triptuckers

[triptuckers]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦

pairing johnny storm x reader summary on a quiet night at the baxter building, johnny delights in good conversation and the feeling of your fingertips against his skin. that is, until manhattan inevitably calls out for a hero [fluff, wc 1.8k]. a/n this is my first johnny fic, so i had to make it mind-numbingly soft and packed with as much charm as I could manage within this amount of words. we're so back!

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Outside, Manhattan dazzles underneath the night sky. There’s all manner of illuminated skyscrapers, neon marquees, and billboards that boast fads old and new. Johnny is indifferent to it all, even though his large bedroom windows make a spectacle of the expansive sight. Instead, his eyes follow your fingertips.

Your glossy red nail polish catches the light as you draw shapes across his bare chest while the two of you lie in bed. 

This is the stillest he’s been all day. At the very least, Ben and Sue are somewhere wondering what spell you managed to put him under. Reed was likely grateful for whatever uninterrupted lab time he could get. 

Johnny seldom remained cooped up in his room. The world was too big. The city is changing every day, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t out there soaking up as much as he could when he wasn’t saving the world. 

Being cooped up with you was different. You made the stillness beautiful. Chasing thrills wasn’t the only way to feel this present or alive. 

The jazz music flowing into the air soon fades to an end. Your fingers still as well. That’s what Johnny notices even more. 

You offer a soft smile. “Gonna go pop a new one in.”

Before Johnny can insist that you stay in bed, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and slip away. You’re wearing a lovely white tank top with dainty ruffle detailing around the collar and hem. You’d taken off your denim skirt before you first laid down, so he’s able to admire the sway of your hips and your pretty legs as you saunter to the record player across the dim room.

It’s intimate, the way you flip through his vinyl collection until you peek up, feeling the weight of his gaze. 

“Anything you in the mood for?” you ask, a little shy, but still tilting your head in that sweet way of yours. 

Johnny purses his lips. “Just you.” 

“Mmm.” 

“I’m serious.” He tucks his arms behind his head. “C’mere. Forget the music.” 

The hopeful look in his eyes coaxes you right back into bed, where you cozy up into his side again. 

“So what’s it like?” you murmur, continuing your conversation from before. Your fingers have started their lazy tracing across his pecs again, and it’s all he can focus on. 

He blinks over at you like he’s only just realized the question was meant for him. “What’s what like?” 

“Outer space, silly,” you giggle, then nip his shoulder. 

He halfheartedly elbows you as he laughs. “It’s hard to focus when you’re feelin’ me up,” he says. “Give a poor guy a break.” 

Your touch was reverent at best, nowhere near charged. But it’s been so long since he’d welcomed somebody into his life like this. Since he’s been comfortable enough to share the parts of himself the tabloids and tell-alls never got to see. 

“You’re such a boy,” you say lightly, smiling fondly at his shameless shrug. “It’s not my fault you’re nice and warm.”

You press your palm to his chest to prove your point. You’re considerably cooler, but only because he runs hot. 

“So I’ve been told,” he drawls. 

“Sorry for being unoriginal then.”

That’s the furthest thing from what you are. You had this way about you that Johnny knew he needed in his life. You’re painfully observant, but also funny, insightful, and down to earth in a way that made him almost certain you’d soon reveal you were really an old soul from another universe.

“Space is quiet,” he finally answers. “Kinda how it is right now, but in an empty way.”

You hum, and trace your finger down the divot of his sternum. “Do you like the quiet?” 

He thinks for a moment. “I’d prefer this any day.”   

You hum. “You seem like the kinda guy who likes a bit of noise.” When he looks over you with furrowed brows, your smile is so sweet and disarming that he can’t take your observation as anything less than a good thing. 

The energy of every room shifts when Johnny walks in. Life itself was noisy, and messy, and exhilarating, and that’s exactly what he is. Sometimes you wish you could emit that same zest into the world, but Johnny had been the one to tell you that groundedness like yours was just as necessary. He sure as hell needed you in his life whenever things seemed as though they were spinning a million miles per hour. 

“You’d prefer this,” you echo thoughtfully. “Because I’m feelin’ you up?” you mock the tone of his voice. 

He chuckles. “No—well, yes. But that’s not the only reason why.” He pretends to think of more, but purposely comes up with nothing. 

You poke him in the ribcage for it, and in a matter of seconds, you’re being flipped onto your back. Johnny’s strong in a way that always catches you by surprise. The squeal that escapes you is louder than what you would’ve allotted, had you seen it coming. Helpless laughter falls past your lips as he pins your hands by your head. 

“Johnny!” You try to pull free, and all he does is grin. “Lemme go.” You’re loving every second of how playful this all is. 

Outside in the hallway, Ben passes the bedroom door at the same time as Sue, who carries a two-year-old Franklin in her arms. 

“We can only assume he’s not killing her,” Ben says. 

Sue chuckles and fondly shakes her head.  

You and Johnny are oblivious to their brief exchange. 

“This isn’t fair,” You whine, weakly attempting to pull free again. 

“What’s the magic word?” he asks, enjoying the feel of you beneath him way too much. 

“Please?” you say, but he shakes his head. “Pretty please?” You poke your lower lip out in a pout. That’s what makes him cave and release your wrists. 

With a dramatic sigh, he flops onto his back and pulls you to lay on top of him instead. A smile twitches at your lips as you settle into the new position, knees bracketed on either side of his slender waist. 

 Johnny stares up at you like you’re responsible for the stars shining in the sky. His eyes sparkle as he kneads your waist with gentle hands. Butterflies threaten to consume you whole when he gives you an infatuated, lopsided smile. He wishes he could bottle this moment and keep it safe forever. 

He’s not prepared for you to lean down and kiss him. You drink in the pleased sound he makes in the back of his throat like it’s sustenance. Your lips move slowly against his, but he can’t quell his eagerness as he speeds it up, fingers curling into your waist with a bit more intensity. 

Just as he feels his face getting warmer, you pull away in favor of trailing kisses down his chin, then his throat, where you eventually nuzzle, your chests pressed into each other’s. Johnny spreads his palm over your back to ensure you stay near, even as his head spins at the feeling of your mouth against his pulse. A rare wave of self-consciousness rises within him because he’s aware of how shallow his breaths have grown.

“Okay,” he breathes. “You win.” 

You raise from his neck to look into his eyes. They’re wide and attentive. His cheeks are flushed. You want to tease him and say you weren’t aware you were playing a game, but you don’t. Instead, you ease yourself off of him so you’re tucked into his side where you first began. 

“You sure you’re not from another planet?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You give the same answer you always do. “Positive.” 

“One hundred percent positive or ninety-nine percent positive?” 

“Have Reed scan me in his lab,” you joke. 

“He’d do it,” he says thoughtfully. “He likes you.”

“And you?” you prompt. 

“Oh, I think you’re awful,” he says. “The absolute worst person who ever walked into my life. Don’t know how I’ve endured this long.” 

At the sound of your laughter, he goes weak even though he’s already laying down. One of these days, he’d have the courage to verbalize how he thinks this might be love. 

For now, he settles with, “I’m kidding.” 

You’re about to say something else when a rhythmic, high-pitched beeping sound emits from his watch. He feels the accompanying vibration of the device before he raises his wrist and sees Alert flashing in red. He sits up carefully so he doesn’t jostle you, and you follow suit a beat later, the stillness of the moment broken. 

For the first time since he brought you to his room, he directs his gaze outside to where an eerie teal glow has appeared in the near distance above the skyline. Your heart rate kicks up a few beats. He’d only gotten called away one other time while you were visiting the Baxter Building. It’s moments like this that make you remember he’s the Human Torch. One fourth of the Fantastic Four. A super hero among men. 

“That’s my cue,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Stay put, alright? You’re safe here.” 

You nod. “Be really, really careful, okay?” 

Johnny cups your cheek. “I’ll be really, really careful,” he promises, if only to ease your nerves. 

He only ever was careful when it came to you. Everywhere else, he erred towards recklessness like it was a mark or a calling. It hadn’t failed him yet, and that was a risk he was willing to keep taking. You can’t lie and say that’s not part of what made you fall for him in the first place. 

You accept the quick peck he presses to your lips, and then he’s off. 

•••

The moment the mattress dips, you stir in your sleep. Johnny crawls beneath the sheets as carefully as he can manage without being a major disturbance. He scoots up behind you, draping an arm over your waist to pull you closer. It’s a little possessive, but you make him that way. 

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he assures when a small sound rises up your throat. 

You turn around in his hold and extend a blind hand pat along his body. “Are you okay?” Your cheeks warm when your innocent touch strays below his waistline. “Sorry.” 

Johnny smirks into the dark. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I promise I’m not missing any important bits or pieces.” 

He only laughs louder when you swat his chest. Somehow, he manages to catch your hand and tenderly kiss the back of it. 

“I’m glad you made it back,” you murmur after a while. 

“Yeah, well,” Johnny starts. “I was pretty motivated.” 

He can’t see your smile widen, but he knows it does.

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

JOHNNY MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

[triptuckers]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖!

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

summary: two superheroes, johnny and y/n are sneaking around behind the teams back, assuming their relationship rendezvous are underwraps. little do they know, the entire team already knew!

aka, how the team found out johnny and y/n were dating!

(slight spoilers for fantastic four: first steps! nothing major, just plot points and relationship dynamic but please proceed with caution if you have not watched the film yet!)

johnny storm x fem!reader (wc: 4.0K)

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𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐎𝐑 rather delusion, you and Johnny should have kept your relationship a secret. Sure, you had saved the world multiple times and fought so many interdimensional villains; but it seemed your limit, or weakness was keeping a very private and very real relationship a secret to your team.

At first, you hadn’t intended it to be a secret from the people you loved and trusted so much, it all just happened at the wrong time.

Johnny had planned on casually announcing it at the Sunday dinner, after you had talked him down from the long speech he had written in the palm of his hand. But it so happened to be the night that Ben figured out that Sue was pregnant. And being the unselfish people you are, opted to keep the spotlight on Sue and her pregnant glow and figure out another time to tell everyone.

That other time being when your earth was threatened and on the verge of being destroyed. It appears that the universe did not appreciate the love between the two superheroes.

And from that point onwards, you and Johnny decided that it was the universe telling you to keep your relationship a secret. And so you did.

For about a month. Maximum. 

Apparently being in a relationship with Johnny ‘loves women’ Storm meant you couldn’t keep your hands off each other for less than a minute; because according to him, if he didn’t have his hands on you, he’ll approach supernova and set fire to the earth’s atmosphere and kill all human life as you know it.

His words, not mine.

Which led to one of the worst kept secrets in Earth-828 and being in a house with literal geniuses and the world's smartest man, your private rendezvous with Johnny didn’t remain private for that long.

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Sue Storm was the first to find out, she knew her brother well and could tell something was off when he seemed to spend more time in his room than usual and held a shit-eating grin at 8:00 in the morning; his designated time to frown and tuck into his cereal.

She never verbalised it to him, knowing Johnny would throw accusations at her and somehow blame Reed for all of this. So she stayed quiet and in question, allowing her brother to keep his private life to himself.

But by chance, if she happened to walk into something she was never meant to see, then Sue couldn’t say she was actively invading his private life.

“Johnny!” Sue shouted as she stormed towards his room, his door closed and protecting whatever was inside. 

The Invisible Woman groaned as her brother didn’t respond, annoyed that he was clearly still asleep way into the afternoon and still in possession of what she was after.

Sue knocked on the door, “Johnny! You’ve got the baby monitor from last night, can I have it back?” She sighed as the room remained silent.

She knocked harder this time, “Seriously, Johnny! You said you’d give it back yesterday after you put Franklin down!”

The room was void of any response and Johnny, inside the room, made absolutely no effort to move. Sue couldn’t even hear the sounds of the bed cover rustling when she thought Johnny had finally woken up and got the memo, but there was no movement inside Johnny’s room.

Sue grew agitated, yet wanted to allow Johnny his privacy and didn’t barge in (yet). “It’s embarrassing that you’re still asleep at this hour, you know?” She teased from the other side of the door, expecting Johnny to groan and chirp out a witty comeback that would make Sue slap the back of his head; but again, nothing.

“I’m not joking around anymore! I’ll come in and get it myself!” Sue warned and put her hands on her hips, counting to 10 which would allow Johnny to get decent or respond.

“Whatever, I’m doing this myself.” Sue muttered to herself and barged through her brother’s door, eyes scanning the room for her baby monitor.

Sue’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes landed on Johnny’s bed and how he was curled in on his side with his mouth open and little snores escaping them. But it was the woman his arms were wrapped around who shocked her.

She was aware Johnny loved women and he definitely wouldn’t be opposed to inviting one into his bed. But inviting one into the Baxter Building with the entire team a few doors away, surprised her to no end.

Either the woman was the real deal for Johnny and he only brought her in here because he truly trusts and loves her; or that she was a massive fan and when she sits up, she’d be sporting an ‘I Love Reed Richards’ shirt.

“Uhh…” Sue looked anywhere but the bed, embarrassed to walk into the two sleeping figures but she was on a mission to find her baby monitor.

As she searched Johnny’s room, Sue couldn’t shake off the fact that she knew that head of hair on the woman, it felt familiar. There were definitely multiple women with the same hair colour but none identical to the one that laid out on her brother’s pillow, strands twisted in his hand.

Sue squinted her eyes as her footsteps took her closer to the pair on the bed, Johnny’s large bedtime shirt engulfing the mysterious woman while he laid shirtless with plaid pyjama bottoms on that were short at the shin on him.

She recognised the woman. Sure, she had saved the world a couple times and recognised a few faces along the way. But she was different, this woman wasn’t just some person, she felt familiar…

Hell, she even looked like--

“Y/N?” Johnny groaned as he nestled his head into your shoulder.

Sue gasped and quickly turned herself invisible, holding her breath as she watched you turn around and lie face to face with Johnny. 

“Yeah?” You mumbled in response and thread your hands through Johnny's blonde hair, feeling his body grow warmer against you, a habit he had when he felt satisfied.

Sue slowly backed towards the door, baby monitor clutched in her hand. She thanked everything that Johnny was so enchanted by you that he didn’t look over your shoulder to see a floating baby monitor backtracking to his door.

Johnny sighed in content and pressed soft kisses to your neck, “Stay here for a little bit longer.” He mumbled into your skin.

You breathed out a laugh and let Johnny do how he pleased, while your words contradicted his, “No, Johnny. You know I’ve got to meet Reed in the lab soon--” “So? Who cares about Reed?” Johnny shrugged.

Sue’s mouth dropped open slightly, mouthing a silent ‘Me!’. 

“Johnny!” You scolded him and playfully pushed his shoulder, but he didn’t budge and instead propped an arm up to hover above you slightly.

“I need you more than Reed. He’ll make you go over some dumb equation. Stay with your hot boyfriend who needs another hour with you, minimum.” Johnny grinned and brushed stray hairs from your face.

You quirked a brow, “Was that a play on words? ‘Hot boyfriend’?” Johnny smirked, “Maybe. Did you notice?”

“Yes, I did.” You laughed and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and letting his body heat convince you to stay a little while longer. No! No, you had work to do with Reed.

Johnny leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, feeling him smile into the kiss and his other hand cupped your cheek. “Johnny! I have to meet Reed!” You giggled into the kiss, but made no effort to shove him away.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t say my brother-in-law's name while I’m kissing you.” He pulled away with his nose scrunched up, but a quick shake of his head and eyes widening made him lean down to try and kiss you again.

Sue grimaces from across the room. Of course Johnny would say something like that, he might be the Human Torch but he’ll always be Sue’s strange little brother to her.

“We’ll get caught if I stay any longer.” You protested and raised your brows. “You make a good point, beautiful.” Johnny smiled, “But I don’t care.” 

As he shuffled to hover over you completely, Sue cringed and took this as her cue to leave, coming back with a lot more than she had intended.

As she ventured out the room, she walked into Johnny’s record player which screeched uncomfortably against the flooring, causing Sue to freeze her movements as she remained invisible.

Both yours and Johnny’s head snapped towards the sound, lips swollen from the kisses and bed hair evident. Your brows furrowed for a moment but Johnny didn’t seem all that concerned.

He turned back to you and shrugged, “Probably Ben moving around upstairs or something.” He mumbled and went in to kiss you which you intercepted with your hand.

“Now you’re the one bringing up other team members while trying to kiss me!” You laughed and teased his earlier comment, causing him to groan and bow his head into the crook of your neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” Johnny chuckled and moved off of you, letting you begin with your day.

However, neither of you noticed the Invisible Woman quickly dart out the room and didn’t question why the door was open when you swore you shut it before you fell asleep.

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The way Reed Richards found out was completely out of your control. Partially.

“That’s strange…” Reed muttered as he looked through his data beside him, your arm grasped in his hand as he did his usual checkup, being superheroes and all.

Your head turned to face him, pulling you out of your conversation with Johnny who was sitting on the table behind you, arms crossed against his chest. “What’s wrong?” You tilted your head.

“It’s just… I’ve never seen something like this before.” Reed stood and walked over to his chalkboard, hands moving frantically to try and figure out the cause of this.

“Something wrong with her, Reed?” Johnny stood, concerned and stepped towards you, fingers brushing your shoulder as you stayed sitting in your chair. Reed didn’t answer and repeatedly mumbled to himself, eyes closing for a moment to go over equations and solutions in his head.

Reed shook his head, turning back to face the pair of you, “Not particularly, no.” You and Johnny looked at each other with furrowed brows. “Out of the ordinary, yes. But nothing’s wrong with you.” Reed concluded and sat back down in his seat, shuffling the chair closer to yours so he could give you the debrief.

“So, what is it?” You questioned and crossed your legs over in the chair. 

“Your body temperature is a lot higher than usual.” Reed nodded. You shook your head, “I don’t get it. Is that a bad thing?”

“No! It would be if it was any other person but the slight concern is that your body temperature is far beyond the average. It’s like for a moment your vitals proved you could have reached full body on fire if you were a normal person.” Reed relayed and defended your spot in the team. 

You squint your eyes and felt Johnny tense up slightly behind you, “Huh…” You said quietly. Feeling like you already knew the cause to your body practically turning into the sun’s heat, you stood up to leave, “That’ll be all--”

“I think I’ve determined the cause of your issue, Y/N.” Reed stood just as quick as you, rounding you to stand shoulder to shoulder with you, sheets gripped in his hand and he pointed across the data.

“If you see here,” He pointed at your vitals, “It’s like your body has been exposed to too much heat consistently.” Your eyes widened and you subtly turned your head to see Johnny’s face paling.

“You sure it’s not just a coincidence?” Johnny stepped closer and read your data, laughing nervously and taking a sip of water.

Reed tutted, “Absolutely not, Johnny.” He handed you the data and pointed at your temperature in a bold font, “You’ve experienced this temperature so much that it’s practically becoming part of your DNA.”

Johnny choked on his water and coughed loud enough for Reed’s attention to be turned onto him, “You alright?” He moved closer to him and rubbed his back, glad Reed had missed your bright red face and wide eyes.

The blonde wiped his face and looked at you, “So what? You’re saying if she keeps… being exposed to this heat, we’ll have a female human torch walking down the street?” His voice raised and he flailed his arms between himself and you.

Your mouth opened at Johnny’s not-so-subtle question, “Johnny!--”

“No, you’re the only human torch we’ll have, don’t worry about that.” Reed reassured him, “What on earth could be causing this heat, what have you been exposed to…” He trailed off and turned his back to the couple.

You snapped your head to Johnny and whisper-shouted at him, “Are you kidding me?”

Johnny’s cheeks were flushed and he set his drink back down on the table, “What?” He said exasperated. “Way to make it obvious!” You said to him.

“Not my fault that Reed’s basically said that when we have kids--” “Sorry, did you just say ‘when’?” You cut him off and your mouth fell open.

Johnny chose to ignore you, “That our children will basically be mini superhero versions of us because apparently my super hot DNA - pun intended by the way! - will be a part of our kids!” He breathed out, making wild gestures with his hands.

“That is so not what Reed said!” You laughed and Johnny spiralling. “That’s so what he said!” Johnny’s voice raised slightly but you could see a grin fighting to appear on his face.

Across the room, Reed laughed to himself, “Hey, Y/N.” He called out but you failed to hear him, “It’s almost as if you’re around Johnny too much--”

Reed trailed off as his mind worked faster than his words. Temperature. DNA. Exposure. Johnny is the Human Torch. Johnny exudes heat. 

Johnny was the heat you were exposed to consistently. You were dating--

“Johnny Storm!” Reed said out loud which made you and Johnny snap your heads to him, breaking you out of your mini / private conversation.

“Yeah?” Johnny shrugged, trying to act nonchalant as if his little breakdown didn’t happen and casually pretended that he hadn’t told you he wanted a future with you via Reed’s overanalysed data.

For the first time, the smartest man in the world was lost for words. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised it sooner. He probably should’ve raised questions when Johnny practically sold himself out and brought up his Human Torch persona after a lengthy discussion on your DNA; but Reed was good at science, not relationship! (Sue could prove this point).

“Nothing!” Reed quickly scooped up his work and darted for the lab door, “Need to find Sue for something, got the Storm siblings mixed up!” Johnny furrowed his brows, not believing his brother-in-law. 

“Alright… So, Y/N’s fine?” Johnny asked, standing too close to you and asking about your wellbeing too much for you to be ‘just friends’, it was all coming together in Reed’s head now.

“She’s fine,” Reed nodded and turned to the door, "Especially now she’s with you.” He laughed to himself but Johnny didn’t catch the last part.

“What did you say?” You and Johnny questioned, confused by Reed’s sudden departure, the lab was basically his second home. More like his first home, actually.

“I didn’t say anything!” Reed quickly left the room and made a beeline for his and Sue’s room, finding her curled up on the bed with Franklin on her lap and a book between her hands.

Reed dropped his data and stood in the doorway, “Did you know that Johnny and Y/N are dating--”

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To some extent, Ben Grimm always knew that Johnny was dating you, being the closest to him and able to see through his poorly attempted lies.

Over the last few weeks, Ben was more observant of you and Johnny, especially on the battlefield.

Being rational in interdimensional fights, Johnny’s actions drove Ben insane sometimes; specifically the times when Johnny would find any excuse to flirt with you while you fought to save their earth.

“Y/N!” Johnny flew down and landed next to you, panting with a smug smile on his face. You turned around and saw your boyfriend approaching in his light blue suit that he wore so well.

“Oh, God.” You groaned playfully as you knew Johnny was up to no good. Ben, a couple feet away from you, watched the Human Torch gravitate towards you as if it was normal.

“Let’s play truth or dare?” Johnny smiled and his height towered over you. You looked up at him as if he’d grown two heads, “Seriously, Johnny! We’re in the middle of a fight!”

The blonde shrugged as if it was nothing, “So? Hasn’t stopped us before.” You rolled your eyes and started walking to Ben who was helping your earth while also eavesdropping on your conversation with Johnny. “You’re impossible.” You laughed as Johnny jogged to keep up with you before standing in your way.

“Just ask me.” He winked. You looked up at him and tutted, “Fine. Truth or--”

“Dare. I’ll do dare.” Johnny interrupted you which made you scrunch up your face and your mind couldn’t come up with one to satisfy Johnny’s risk-taking approach to life. “I don’t know!” You gestured, “I can’t come up with one right now, ask me later.” You tried to walk past him and continue protecting your earth.

“I’ve got one!” Johnny exclaimed. You wondered if Johnny had known this whole time what he wanted to do, maybe even while he was fighting, bored out of his mind that it spiralled into this. “You should dare me to take down this guy in under three minutes.”

You tilted your head, “Why would I do that?” 

You watched Johnny scan the area, obviously not thoroughly because he failed to see the bright orange Thing in the corner of his eye, before he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “If I do it then I believe I deserve a reward tonight.”

You raised your brows, “And what would that reward be, Johnny?” A smile crept up onto your face as Johnny looked at you as if the answer was obvious.

“I think you know, Y/N.” Johnny winked and you nodded at him, agreeing to his dare. He chuckled and looked back at you one more time before flying off to complete his mission; only suggesting it in the first place because Johnny knew he could do it in under three minutes.

If he was being honest, he could do it in under one minute. But he had to stay humble, for once.

Ben shook his head at Johnny who chose the wrong time to flirt, but confused by his proposal. Would your reward to him be those personal cookies you made so well that had everyone in Baxter Building asking for more. They had the recipe, it just didn’t taste as good as yours.

Ben’s train of thought was cut short as more threats came his way, deciding to prioritise the earth’s safety over Johnny and his painfully obvious flirting with you, but of course, you would never date him!

Sure, the reward was personal as Ben had suspected. Just not the… type of personal he had initially thought.

And Ben would find that out later that night as he sat with Herbie and tasted the sauce the pair had made. “Is that too strong?” Ben turned to Herbie, his chirps and beeps a valid enough answer for him.

He lifted his head as he saw you and Johnny burst into the building, not seeing The Thing in the kitchen part of the room. 

Johnny’s arm was slung over your shoulder and you were lent into his side, clearly just coming back from the debrief after the mission. “So, I did it in under three minutes.” Johnny’s hand twisted into your hair and you tilted your head back to look at him.

“That’s right…” You hummed. “Can I cash my reward now?” Johnny licked his lips and watched as you pretended to deliberate on the question. “You know you can.” You whispered.

Across the room, Ben heard your answer and shuffled stuff on the kitchen countertop to make room for you and your ingredients, still thinking you were about to offer Johnny your famous cookies.

Ben turned around and his smile was wiped off his face as he saw Johnny lean down to connect your lips, ducking down and catching the back of your thighs as he picked you up. You kissed Johnny back and threaded your hands through his blonde hair and smiled as he groaned into your mouth.

Herbie practically malfunctioned from across the room as Johnny placed your back on the couch and hovered over you. Ben felt like this really wasn’t the time or place for you and Johnny to make mini superheroes, so bravely spoke up, “Guys!”

You and Johnny separated in rapid time, “Ben?!” The pair of you gasped and flung yourself to opposite sides of the couch.

Ben held back a smirk at your flustered expression and how pale the Human Torch had gone, making a mental note to mock him for it afterwards. “What were you two doing?” Ben knew exactly what they were doing, he just wanted to have a little fun with the situation.

Your mouth opened and closed, “Johnny was just…” You shook your head for an excuse, “He was just checking my temperature! I haven’t been feeling good the last few days.” You lied and widened your eyes at Johnny, urging him to follow along.

Johnny flicked his eyes between you and Ben, trying to understand what you were doing. ‘Oh!’ He mouthed, “Right, I was just checking in on my girl-- the girl!” He corrected himself and shuffled closer to awkwardly place the back of his hand against your forehead.

Ben nodded slowly, “Did you check her throat aswell?” Johnny looked at you and shook his head, “No, of course no. Why?”

“Well, you had your tongue stuck down it so I thought it would be a double feature.” You choked on nothing as Ben laughed. Johnny’s face grew bright red and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“That’s… Yeah, I was…” Johnny stuttered out, realising there was no recovery in this situation.

You stood up from the couch and walked towards Ben, “Hey, do you mind not telling anyone about… this? Us?” 

“We already know.” Reed and Sue laughed as they walked into the room.

Johnny jumped from the couch and stumbled over to you, “I don’t think we were all that good at hiding it now that I’m thinking of it.” You rolled your eyes and elbowed him lightly, but him being dramatic, yelped.

Reed and Sue entered further into the room and went to sit on the couch, before the pair of them cringed at the reminder of what you and Johnny were about to do on the exact seat, and decided to sit on the chairs tucked into the dinner table.

“You guys are just the worst at keeping secrets.” Sue laughed as she bounced Franklin in her arms. Reed agreed and coddled his baby.

“I don’t know, they managed to keep it a secret for more than an hour, that’s impressive for them!” Ben shrugged and continued working on his sauce.

Johnny furrowed his brows, offended, “Come on! We weren’t that bad!”

Ben raised his eyebrows, “Flame Boy, you proposed that you and Y/N should get married when you’re older when we were fighting Galatus!” Johnny groaned and threw his head back, watching you laugh with them now, “Don’t encourage them, Y/N!” He whined.

“I can’t help it!” You chuckled and shuffled closer to him, settling your body into his. As everyone relayed their previous experiences about you two, you looked up at your boyfriend who you could proudly show off now, and vice versa. After everything, you were happy.

yipee hope u liked my first johnny fic! would u like more?

[triptuckers]

Two heartbeats

Pairing: Johnny Storm x reader Word Count: 4.9k

Description: You agree to help Reed test his new baby scanner for Sue, so he can collect some baseline data from a non–pregnant woman. But when the screen lights up with a tiny heartbeat, you realize you’ve got some crazy news to break to Johnny.

Tags/warnings: established relationship, mildly soft Reed, Johnny hovering, accidentally finding a pregnancy, panicking over it, comfort, Johnny finding out, fluff, funny and domestic moments <3

Note: all I can say is writing this was so entertaining and heartwarming, there’s just something about the idea of Johnny being a dad😭. Hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼

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The bright lab was mostly quiet, except for the soft humming sound coming from the machine next to you. You sat perched on the edge of a white, medical style platform that looked more intimidating than it probably was. Reed sat on a stool to your left, completely focused on adjusting the controls of his latest invention, a fancy scanner meant for prenatal imaging. You were there as his control subject, since he needed to "create a baseline from a non gestational female", his words. Sue's scan was scheduled for later, if everything worked as expected.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"Alright. The scanner is all set, I'm ready when you are," Reed announced, turning around halfway on his stool to look at you through his thick frame glasses. "Are you comfortable there?"

"I am, actually," you smiled, settling back until your full body rested on the soft leather surface, which, surprisingly, began to warm slowly beneath you. "It's ... warm."

A smile almost ghosted his mouth, but he turned back to the sphered monitor before it could fully form. “Sue tends to get cold in here. I believe adding this feature will make her more inclined to agree to my scans.”

You only gave him a knowing smile. Reed was… Reed, after all.

He wasn’t always able to express care with words, his sentences were more likely to contain statistics or hyper logical reasoning about even the tiniest of details no one noticed or cared about, but his actions spoke louder than words. It was all about the little accommodations, the quiet fixes, the way he noticed discomforts around the building before anyone voiced them. This time was no exception, he didn't think twice about adding a heating feature to the scanner’s seat when his wife had complained about the lab feeling like a freezer last time.

"I bet it's not warmer than me, though," a voice chimed in next to you, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

Ah, yes … Johnny.

Your ever loving boyfriend, who couldn’t stand being more than ten minutes away from you and insisted on being present for this “fake scan” so he could practice holding your hand for future real ones.

Because in his mind, you were in his future that way, not a single doubt about that.

The baby making. Especially, the baby making. The big surprise. The bun in the oven. The endless scans for ultrasound pictures he’d stick to the glass windows of your shared bedroom. The restless nights outweighed by the giggles from a little him ... a little you.

Not today, but maybe one day.

Definitely one day.

And in that hothead of his, he thought what better preparation than watching his brother in law micromanage Sue’s pregnancy through you? At least he could have a little fun with it.

So, naturally, Johnny invited himself to the session. Dragging an extra stool to the lab, sliding on your right side, elbows braced on the platform. His hand found yours as soon as you set your body down.

"You know I can warm you up anytime you want, babe," Johnny shrugged innocently, but his tone was playful as always.

You turned to him amused, a smile already on his face as he leaned definitely way too close to your face, and quickly stole a peck from your lips, earning a soft laugh from you.

Reed sighed next to you, wishing he'd asked you to try the machine in the early hours of the morning before Johnny even woke up. It was his fault after all, he should've known better than bringing it up in front on him. Now he'd have to make it work while you got distracted by ... your distraction.

You instantly noticed his demeanor shift, and gently slipped your hand from Johnny's grasp to lay it flat on the bed, blowing a kiss to him when he opened his mouth to complain. He instantly grinned in triumph, pretending to catch it and placed it over his heart. At least that would keep his hands to himself for a moment.

"All ready now, Reed," you said, offering him an apologetic smile, and he nodded.

"Okay, we're ready to begin. Please just don’t talk," Reed said, his eyes on the display as he pressed buttons, "and try to avoid any unnecessary movement, both of you," he turned slightly, looking over his glasses to glare at your hovering boyfriend.

Which was, unfortunately, a straight dare for Johnny to lean closer against the platform beside you, the corner of his mouth curving into a grin.

"You hear that babe? No unnecessary movement. Don't breathe, not even a little," he said in the most serious tone he could use. "... except if you wanna, you know, lean on me a little," he winked, then nudged your shoulder with his. “I wouldn’t mind.”

You tried not to smile this time when he wiggled his eyebrows, for the sake of the test and the remaining of Reed's sanity, which only made him grin wider.

"Johnny," Reed scolded without looking up, "I need her still, and I need quiet so I can concentrate."

"Hey, I'm just here to supervise," Johnny protested. "Make sure you're not poking her with anything weird."

If there was something Johnny loved almost as much as you and space, it was rage baiting his brother in law. And the worst part was, that no matter how incredibly intelligent Reed was, it seemed to work every single time.

"I'm not poking her with anything,” Reed snapped, sighing afterward. "Can you at least step back a little so I can–"

"Nuh-uh, not a chance in the world," Johnny interrupted. "I'm here for emotional support, you know, a dad being present –Ow. Babe!" you elbowed him lightly in the ribs, which made him gasp.

"First of all, you're not a father. This is purely for data gathering purposes," Reed objected without missing a beat, "and you're only here because you followed her in.”

"Yeah yeah, semantics, whatever," Johnny shrugged, raising a hand to dismiss him and turned to you. "Hey, you hungry, princess? I could get you something."

"I'm fine, Johnny," you shook your head, smiling at the gesture, then raising your hand to press a finger on his lips. "Now, shh."

You caught Reed rubbing the bridge of his nose, muttering something about how he should have asked literally any other woman in the planet who didn't have Johnny Storm joint at their hip.

"The sequence is starting now. I just need five minutes," he sighed for the fourth time in three minutes, and then pressed a few more buttons, his posture stiffening. "Please Johnny, just five, no more talking."

"Alright, alright. I can be quiet for five minutes," he raised his hands in surrender, finally leaning back.

It lasted five whole seconds.

"So," he began, leaning toward you again. "Tell me about the first time you saw me."

You sighed at the question Johnny liked to ask at least once a week. You were happy to answer it every time, just not in front of his brother in law. So you put a hand on his chest to push him back a little, before Reed's patience snapped completely.

"Johnny, angel, you know what? Actually I am hungry," you said, playing with the fabric of his shirt. "I am craving some oranges."

"Oranges?" Johnny's whole demeanor shifted, still grinning, but now with that eagerness to please you sparkling in his eyes.

"Yes, fresh ones," you nodded, slightly biting your lip. "Pretty please?"

“You got it, fresh ones from the market," he grabbed your hand from his chest and placed a kiss on it, making you chuckle once again.

Why was he so annoyingly sweet?

Satisfied with your reaction, he got up from his stool, the little seat's wheels rolling back as he made his way to the elevator's doors. Not without turning around halfway, looking at you while pointing accusingly at Reed.

"Don't let him poke you with needles or draw blood from you. I will sue," then he winked at you, backing to the elevator. "Give me five minutes, ten tops."

And after a shameless wink, the elevator doors slid closed, and he was gone. Leaving a very relieved Reed alone with his scan and you trying very hard not to laugh at the way he exhaled like he'd been holding his breath under water this whole time.

"Thank you," he said genuinely, turning back to his controls. You just hummed in acknowledgment.

You held your breath as the machine made a louder hum, a halo of pale blue light swept over you from head to toe.

"You can breathe normally," Reed said, noticing your stillness. "Just don't move anything else, please."

You let your gaze wander over the colorful room while the scanner did the work. There were gadgets on every counter, Sue's latest ultrasound printed and stuck on the corner of Reed's giant blackboard, a mug that said 'Fantastic dad' that Johnny told Ben to buy Reed as a joke but he wholeheartedly gave it to the man. You smiled at the memory.

The thought of Sue and Reed’s baby being there in a just a months was amazing and terrifying at the same time, and it wasn’t even yours.

And now that Johnny wasn't hovering anymore, and Reed's focus was solely on the screen in front of him, the quiet of the room allowed you to think about what Johnny said earlier.

'A dad being present'

There was a time where you thought something like that was impossible due to his altered DNA, but Sue and Reed had shown you the possibility was still there.

And the more you thought about it, the more it made you want to build that with Johnny. It wasn't a crazy idea, not at all, but it was something you'd projected into the far future.

Definitely one day.

"Huh," Reed's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed as he leaned closer to the screen.

"Something wrong with the machine?" you asked, trying to not make a big fuss about it, it was a new equipment after all.

He didn't answer immediately. Just tapped his keyboard twice, then leaned even closer, eyes squinting and his whole expression sharpening. The scanner made another low pass over your midsection.

"Hmm," there it was, another weird monosyllable.

"That's a suspicious 'hmm'," you said, sitting up a bit straighter.

"Not suspicious at all," Reed said quickly. "Just interesting ... please lean back down, it's not done."

His fingers moved over the console again, adjusting settings. The scanner passed over you once more, slower this time, and you noticed a small, unconscious shift in his posture. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, blinked at the display, then adjusted the image like maybe the machine had made a mistake.

Again.

"Okay, you're being really weird now. Even for you, Reed," you half joked, hoping that would ease the sudden nerves invading your body.

"I just … wasn't expecting to see–" he paused, hesitating, glancing toward the door as if Johnny might burst in at any second.

"See what?" you pressed, fully panicking now.

The machine beeped softly with results for the third time, like it was confirming whatever he'd already noticed the first. Then Reed suddenly stood up from his stool and paced in his spot, folding his arms.

"There are certain... biological markers. In fact, they're very specific markers. I'd like to run the scan one more time to confirm."

"No. No more scans," you fully sat up now, suddenly understanding Sue's dread of those. "Just tell me, is there something wrong with me?"

Your tone actually made him jerk his head in your direction, shaking his head profusely.

"No," his voice was quiet but certain. Not comforting either, though. "No, absolutely not."

"Then what is it?"

Reed hesitated, eyes fixing back on the screen. "It's... actually the opposite," he said slowly. His voice wasn't that detached this time, it was still Reed, still cautious, but there was something... warmer underneath.

"Something right, then?"

"Quiet for a moment," he mumbled, pressing the console again. "I want to be sure."

So you stayed still, your heartbeat ringing a little faster in your ears. The scanner made one last pass over your body, beeping one last time with the same results apparently, because Reed stepped back, took a long breath, and blinked a few times like he was pulling himself back into the room with you.

He wasn't exactly expecting to be the first to find out about... that. Now how on earth was he supposed to break news like that? None of his infinite doctorates qualified him to do so.

Reed stalled for a few more seconds, before reaching to the sphere monitor and rotating it in your direction.

"Look at that," he said, pointing to the screen, his voice slightly softer than usual.

On the screen, a small flicker pulsed steadily in the center of a grainy blue and white colored image. You stared at it for a few seconds.

Was that? … No. No it couldn't be.

"...My heartbeat?" you chuckled weakly, because the alternative your head was suggesting was just not possible.

Not right now. Definitely not right now.

Reed arched a brow, his gaze instantly softening. He knew how this part felt. The first moments of denial. The surreality of it. So he approached it as gentle as his capabilities allowed him to.

None of his education had prepared him for something like this, but you were family, even more so now, so he tried his best to use his heart this time instead of his brain. As absurd as that sounded to someone like him.

"It is a heartbeat, and technically, it's yours too. Or, well, more like a part of you."

You stared at it again. That flicker. The steady, insistent beat. You knew what it meant, of course you did, but the words got stuck in your throat and refused to come out.

"Look," Reed took off his glasses, pointing with the frames higher up in the torso scan. "Your heartbeat is here," and then pointed back lower, "and this one is smaller ... much smaller."

Reed studied your face as you kept quiet, something warm blooming in his chest despite his usually clinical nature.

Two 'fantastic babies' this year. Huh. He hadn't seen that coming. Couldn't have predicted it with equations in a million years.

"Okay," you said finally, too casually.

"Just okay?" Reed almost chuckled this time. "You do understand what I'm showing you, correct?"

"Yeah. I... yeah," you nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath. "I'm ..."

But you didn't say it. Couldn't. Because saying it out loud would make it real. And right now, you weren't ready for real. Not without Johnny by your side.

Right. Johnny.

Who wasn't there to hold your hand through it.

Oh my God. How were you gonna tell him?

He was, after all, your emotional support. But who was gonna be his when you were panicking? Oh my god. What if he panics too? Would he be ready? Would you be ready?

All of a sudden, that 'one day' wasn't so far away anymore.

You didn't even notice your breathing had gone shallow until Reed's voice caught your attention.

"Breathe," he said, not commanding, more like a reminder.

"I am breathing," you looked up at him, chest going up and down rapidly.

"Not enough," he replied. Then, in a move that was so unlike him, he reached for your hand. His palms were warm, not as warm as the ones you were used to, but it helped somehow. His hands pressing yours just enough to let you know he wasn't letting go unless you wanted him to.

"Follow me," he said. He took a slow inhale, visibly lifting his chest, and let it out in a slow exhale. "Again."

You tried your best. Inhale. Exhale. It died in your throat halfway out a few times. But he waited, patient as ever, until you tried again. And again. Until the fifth breath felt a little less jagged.

"It's normal to be scared," he said, when your breathing slowed down. "When Sue told me she was pregnant, I–I almost passed out. And that was after two years of planning for it."

Instantly realizing what he confessed, he cleared his throat, before looking at you more serious for a moment.

"Don't tell Johnny," he asked.

A shaky laugh escaped you, and it loosened something in your chest. You shook your head in reassurance. He nodded grateful.

"I know this is... a big pill to swallow. Terrifying, even. But it doesn't have to be faced alone."

Your eyes got glassy before you could stop them.

"We're all a family," Reed continued, repeating what was always said by the others, not much by him, if ever. "Which means your child will never have to go without place to feel like home, or without love. Not with all of us around."

A tear did fall from on your cheek this time, and you let go of his grip to wipe it before Johnny came back.

Oh, Johnny.

Just thinking about him being a father, a dad who is present, his blonde disheveled hair at midnight as he warms baby bottles with his own hands, a tiny bundle sleeping on his chest enjoying the impossible warmth irradiating from his skin. Him playing peek a boo with the funniest faces he can think of.

And for the first time since you saw that flicker on the screen, you believed, if only for a second, that maybe this wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I'm pregnant," you finally said it, the foreign words leaving your lips in a whisper.

Reed's eyes softened, the smallest smile forming in his mouth.

"You're pregnant," he echoed, just as quietly, like repeating it would help you both absorb the reality. He straightened a little, half turning to his machine. "I'd still like to make some more formal scans–"

"Reed."

"I know, I know. Sorry," he apologized, letting out a dry chuckle while shrugging, "but it's ... protocol."

"I'm telling you, Herbert, those oranges were not fresh. That guy was totally lying ... Yeah right? I know. Unbelievable."

Your head snapped at the sound of HERBIE's robotic beeps and Johnny's muffled voice echoing behind the elevator doors, as they arrived to the lab's floor.

"–and so I had to use my charm on the girl next to him, one smile and she went straight to get me the good ones ... I know Herbert, I know, but you have to do what you have to do."

The doors slid open in a ding, revealing a very excited Johnny walking in, toying with an orange from one hand to another as HERBIE trailed behind him holding something you couldn't see from your seat.

"Ah, there you are." Johnny smiled as soon as his eyes landed on you, "now, what did I miss?"

You looked at Reed for a brief second, at the verge of panicking again, but he mouthed a 'just breathe', gesturing with his hand a swift inhale. So you did that, as Johnny crossed the lab until he got to the stool he was previously sat in, with the little droid following him like a lost puppy.

"Got 'em! Did you miss me, babe?" he asked, plopping into his seat.

"I always do," you mumbled, absentmindedly reaching to the orange he was holding, to try to distract yourself with something. "Thank you, Johnny–"

Before you could reach, he yanked back his hand with a laugh. "Don't be silly, this one is for me. Here–"

He turned halfway to HERBIE behind him, and grabbed with his free hand something from the droid's hands, petting his metal head before turning back to offer it to you.

You lowered your eyes at the plate he was holding to you. Probably two oranges, sliced, and placed nicely around the dish. The citrus scent hit you and half scratched that itch you've been having about oranges lately, which ... made a lot of sense now.

"These are for you, bite sized. I'm gonna tell you now, got the best ones in the city," he leaned down to kiss your forehead, and added with a cocky grin, "go on, tell me I'm amazing."

He was. God, he was.

But it wasn’t the oranges what hit you the most, it was the way Johnny went about it. How you wouldn't need to feel scared, or not ready, when he was willing to take on even the smallest of requests with intention, just to put a smile on your face.

So you couldn't hold it together any longer, and lunged forward to wrap your arms around his neck, the plate of oranges falling from his hand to your lap, small slices scattering across the platform. You buried your head in his neck, not being able to hold the tears anymore. Johnny instinctively wrapped his arms around your body, a hand still holding his orange for dear life as he stared confused at Reed.

“Woah– what happened baby?” he asked softly, bringing his free hand to stroke your hair as you cried into his chest. “What did you do, Richards?” His tone got weirdly serious now, even for Johnny.

“Me? N-nothing!” Reed blurted offended, which only made Johnny glare at him.

“Did Reed lecture you about moving during the scan? I told you, babe, you don’t have to listen to him when I’m not here.”

Reed’s mouth opened to protest, but chose to keep quiet. He glanced at you, still clinging to Johnny for dear life. He took a deep breath. He knew what this was like, so he just let Johnny continue until you chose to tell him.

“She was okay when I left, and now she’s crying in my arms –hey hey, it’s okay baby– so what could have possibly happened while I was gone?”

His tone to Reed was serious, but when he looked down at you it got incredibly softer. You sniffed a few times, pulling apart from him to wipe your eyes and give him a teary smile.

“I’m fine, Johnny, really,” you reassured, sniffing again, “It’s just … I don’t–“ you looked at Reed, nodding at him so he could help you a little.

Reed took off his glasses, and folded his hands behind his back in that way that meant ‘I’m about to say something big and I’m choosing my words carefully’. You just kept your gaze on Johnny.

“The scan revealed some … unexpected results.”

Well, so much for choosing your words carefully.

“Unexpected like… bad unexpected, or ‘hey, you have an extra kidney’ unexpected?” Johnny asked, squinting.

“Having an extra kidney would be bad unexpected too, Johnny,”

“We could always get it out and sell it,” he shrugged, rolling his eyes playfully to make you laugh, and when you inevitably did, relief washed over his face for a second.

Okay, it couldn’t be that bad if he was able to make you laugh after that breakdown. His heart could calm down a little now.

“Well, actually… neither,” Reed said.

His gaze shifted between the two of you before settling on the monitor that was still facing your direction. Johnny glanced at the screen, still expecting to see that third kidney. Instead, he tilted his head and his eyebrows pulled together.

“Huh,” he exhaled.

Funny, his first reaction was identical to Reed’s.

You watched him stare at the screen, and you could almost see the gears turning under all that blonde hair. Because Johnny Storm was a lot of things, loud, playful, endlessly distracting, but he was also sharp. And he wasn’t missing what was right in front of him.

Two heartbeats.

“Is uh– Is that what I think…?” his eyes flicked to you, you were already smiling, still glassy eyed holding the lump in your throat. “Oh my god.”

His mouth fell open a little, eyes darting between Reed, you and the small flicker on the screen for a few times, before it hit him all at once. He finally let go of the orange in his hand, the fruit hitting the floor in a few thuds.

Johnny’s face lit up like sunlight getting through grey clouds. Even HERBIE beeped in awe.

“OH MY GOD!!”

The grin that broke over his face made your heart flutter. He cupped your face in his warm hands before you could even wipe your eyes.

“Babe. Babe,” he chanted enthusiastically, his forehead pressed to yours, voice dropping to a breathless laugh. “We’re having a baby. Oh my god! We’re having a baby! … Herbert I’m gonna be a father!”

You let out a laugh that was half sob, half immense happiness, nodding against him.

He crashed his lips to yours, salty tears mixing in your lips as he kissed you softly, lips slightly pulling back from how wide you both were smiling.

In front of you, Reed stood with his arms crossed, the loveliest smile tugging at his mouth. For once, he didn’t interrupt, didn’t feel like adding facts or disclaimers. He simply turned back to the console and gave you both the moment.

That was, until Johnny pulled apart from you, realizing how you had just lit his whole world on fire and he was more than willing to stand in the middle of all of it.

“Okay,” Johnny said, still holding your face, “this is fine. This is more than fine. This is … this is amazing.”

“Johnny, I think we should–” you began, but he was already in motion, pacing next to you.

“First of all, we need to stock on food, for all the weird pregnancy cravings you’re gonna have. You want pickles dipped in ice cream? boom, Johnny delivers,” he gestured dramatically with his hands in the air.

Reed sighed, rubbing his temple while mumbling something about Johnny speaking in third person.

“Johnny–“

“And the baby’s room. We’ll paint it… okay, we don’t know boy or girl yet, but that’s fine, we’ll go with something neutral. Like… fire yellow … no, wait, that’s too on the nose. Sky blue? Maybe it could be space themed! … babe they can go to space with us one day, maybe Reed can make a baby space suit–“

“I am not sending your baby, or any baby for that matter, to space, Johnny.” Reed interrupted flatly, wishing you could go back to hugging and not this unprompted rambling.

“Johnny, angel, maybe we should–“

“Oh, and the clothes, babe the clothes! Little tiny onesies with flames on them. Reed, you have to make them in fireproof clothing, how else is it gonna be safe for me to hold them?”

“Johnny!” you leaned forward to put your hands on his chest and gently dragged him towards you. “Can we maybe process this before we start designing the nursery?”

He stopped mid ramble, eyes fixing on yours. And for the first time since Reed dropped the news, he hesitated. “Wait, you’re… okay with this? I mean, I’m over the moon, obviously, but… are you?”

You exhaled, reaching to fix a strand of his hair. “Johnny there’s nothing I want more in this life, than to have a family with you,” you reassured, meaning every single word, “but we didn’t even know about this ten minutes ago.”

Johnny’s smile softened. He grabbed your hand and lifted it to his lips, holding a kiss there for a moment.

“Okay. We’ll do this together, slowly, as a family,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, and this time you were the one who jumped at his lips.

This time it was a bit rougher, clinging to him with fists clenched on his shirt, like putting all the overwhelming weight of it all into the kiss. Reed, who was still there, cleared his throat before you started making another baby right there and then. On his new scanner. That he built for his wife but now it would work for you too.

He was gonna have to get used to Johnny hovering all the time now.

“You should both take some more proper tests to confirm everything is okay with your baby, before making any further plans.”

“Yeah, yeah, Reed,” Johnny dismissed, already wrapping an arm around your waist to help you come down the platform, and guide you toward the door, but he halted midway. “Wait both? why me? I swear to god Richards, if you poke me–“

“No one is going to poke any of you here, Jonathan. Ever. I already told you, and it sure as hell won’t be me if it’s ever required,” Reed rolled his eyes, already relieved to see you both make your way to the elevator so he could work in peace.

He could only be happy for so long, before his mind inevitably went to overthink about how on earth you were all going to survive two super babies at the same time. But before he could get lost in his head, Reed turned to thank HERBIE, who was humming cheerfully to himself as he picked up the orange slices from the table. The little droid then rolled toward you, offering the plate with a chirp.

“Thank you, HERBIE,” you smiled, and Johnny pet his head in gratitude.

“Alright, we’ll do all that science stuff later, Reed. Right now…” He glanced down at you, his lovely grin back in full force. “I’m getting my girl more snacks ... and maybe also ice cream. Just in case that pickle phase hits early.”

Even behind all the joking and amusement in his face, the glint in his eyes quietly told you he was looking at the most important thing in the whole universe. Those two heartbeats.

But no, it wasn’t just two heartbeats after all.

Because with Johnny by your side, it was three.

⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆

feedback is always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[triptuckers]

sleepless nights - johnny storm

Request: nope Pairing: johnny storm x reader Summary: staying over at johnny's is mostly fun, sometimes a little inconvenient Warnings: none, some swearing Word count: 1.3k A/N: me nervously coming back after months hey.... heyyy guys.... (I watched fantastic four and ngl the movie was kinda mid imo but johnny storm.... heyyyy) enjoy!

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you love johnny, you really do. after you started dating him, you find yourself liking him more and more every day.

some days you wonder how the hell someone like johnny storm fell in love with you. he has half the world in love with him and the other half envies him for it. he's part of the fantastic four, the human toch, for god's sake. he could have anyone he wanted.

and yet he chose you.

you can tell he really loves you. it's in the way he'd make sure his favorite sweater of yours is always laid out on his bed if you ever come over to the baxter building. he memorised your coffee order, your drink order at a bar, your favorite takeout.

he knows your favorite movies and has watched them multiple times with you. he's invited you over for sunday dinners more times than you can count. you're pretty sure he became a bigger fan of your favorite band than you, after you played him their best album.

and it's very convenient he's always so warm. especially during the colder winter months.

there's a lot of things to love about johnny. but nothing could have prepared you for the way he sleeps.

when you started dating he told you he was "sort of a restless sleeper, but only a little bit". you thought he'd toss and turn a little. you didn't think you'd wake up with bruises after staying the night - and not in the good way.

sometimes you put up with it, sometimes you don't. tonight is one of those nights.

when you fell asleep, you were safely wrapped up in johnny's warm arms. comfortable in his embrace. if only it had stayed that way the entire night.

the first time you wake up, johnny is sprawled out on his back. fast asleep but somehow he still manages to nearly poke out your eye. you push his hand away from your face and move closer to him.

you lay your head on his chest, and already feel yourself falling asleep again. the soft rhythm of johnny's heartbeat works like a lullaby on you.

it feels like only seconds have passed when you're awake again. as you blink yourself awake, you're not sure why you woke. then you feel a stifling kind of heat.

your eyes adjust to the darkness and you feel johnny's full weight on top of you. normally, you wouldn't mind. but johnny is not like anyone else. his body's temperature is always higher than yours. and right now, it's way too hot.

you push him off of you and roll over. one good thing about johnny's sleeping habits though; he almost never wakes up.

whenever he's too close, you can just push him over. the most he'll do is make a noise of irritation in his sleep, but that's about it. he's joked about it before, about how you should be glad he doesn't snore.

one time you briefly wondered what would be better: a johnny who snores or the johnny you have right now, the one who wakes you up approximately three times a night.

the next time you wake up in that same night, you're starting to become really annoyed with your boyfriend. you wake up and the first thing you noticed is that you're absolutely freezing.

which is not a thing when you have a boyfriend who can literally set himself on fire.

you move to pull the covers over your shoulder, but your fingertips only meet the hem of johnny's shirt you'd claimed as your own. you frown and feel around the space next to you in bed.

when you can't feel the blanket, you push yourself up on one elbow and look over at johnny.

somehow, the man managed to steal all the blankets even though he's quite literally a human furnace.

fed up with him, you reach out and harshly pull the covers back to your side of the bed.

'you don't even fucking need them johnny.' you grumble.

johnny mumbles something incoherent but as expected, he doesn't wake up.

you're determined to sleep the rest of the night til morning. you've got the blankets now, making sure johnny cannot steal them from you again. he's already gone through his favorite sleeping positions: on top of you (when you pushed him away because the heat was unbearable) and taking up as much space as he can (while laying with his arms and legs stretched out).

but it wouldn't be a night with johnny if you didn't wake up yet another time.

you seriously consider moving to the guest bedroom when you wake up with something hard poking you in your lower back. when you look over your shoulder and you see johnny's foot firmly planted on your back.

you let out an annoyed huff and roll over, planting both hands on johnny's chest to push him back to his side of the bed. however, in your annoyance, you don't just push him back to his side, but actually out of the bed.

your eyes widen when you hear a thud as johnny falls to the ground. you wince as you crawl over to his side of the bed. but as you peer over the edge of the mattress, you see johnny is still asleep.

'are you fucking kidding me?' you mumble. 'fucking hell, at least have the decency to wake up and say "ow".'

you let yourself fall back on the bed. you consider waking johnny up (or trying to do so, really) to tell him to get back in bed. but right now it's gloriously empty, you've got all space.

before you can make up your mind about it, you're already asleep again.

the next time you wake up, thankfully, you wake up to the bright sun outside. the last few hours of the night were peaceful, and you weren't woken up because of johnny a single time.

you reach for him now, wanting to feel his warmth. but you only find cold sheets. that's when you remember you pushed him out of the bed last night.

carefully, you roll over to his side and peer over the edge of the bed. johnny is still asleep, even if it's in an uncomfortable position on the cold floor.

you reach out and nudge his shoulder with your hand. then another time, when he doesn't wake up.

when he finally does, his blue eyes are hazy and unfocused, before they settle on your face above him. then the frowns. he looks around and seems to realise he's on the floor.

'morning sleepyhead.' you say, disappearing from his view as you lay back down.

'hey.' johnny says, his voice still laced with sleep.

he moves to sit up but immediately falls back down when a sharp pain shoots up his back. how did he get on the floor?

johnny climbs in bed again, and you immediately cuddle close to him, soaking in his warmth.

'did you push me off the bed in the night?' he asks.

'yes.' you answer.

he makes an offended noise. 'you're not even gonna deny it?'

'no.'

you move closer to him and wrap your arm tightly around his chest.

'little tight, sweetheart.' he says, but he doesn't really mean it. and you know it.

'payback for waking me up four times.'

'shit, four times? I'm sorry.'

's okay. I'm used to it.'

'is my back pain from sleeping on the ground also payback?'

'yes.'

'you're so lucky I like you.'

you smile at his words and feel how he kisses the top of your head. johnny wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in his warm embrace.

you feel yourself dozing off again, thinking about him. because no matter how many times johnny wakes you up during the night, he always makes up for it with cuddles in the morning. and sometimes a little extra something.

but for now, you settle for laying in his arms, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his hand lovingly drawing circles on your lower back.

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

[triptuckers]

One and a half Storm

Pairing: Johnny Storm x Reader Synopsis: Being the girlfriend of Johnny Storm meant that you are automatically his nephew's godmother. Genre & warnings: Just sweet domestic fluff, established relationship Word count: 1.8k | masterlist a/n: this one is inspired from this post but in the middle of writing I was listening to Echoes by Enhypen and this came out instead.

Sue had called you early that morning, a touch of frantic energy in her voice even though she tried to hide it.

"I’ve got a full day at the Foundation. Think you could come by early today?"

Of course you said yes. You always did.

You showed up with a soft overnight bag slung over your shoulder, hair pulled back in a loose tie, and a familiar comfort in your step as you walked into the Baxter Building. The space already smelled like the faint mix of Sue’s citrus candles and baby powder, and the hum of the building felt like a second home now.

Franklin lit up the moment he saw you, his tiny hands flapping excitedly as he let out a series of happy squeals. You barely had a second to drop your bag before scooping him into your arms, his warm little body melting against you like muscle memory. He had grown so much and you were there to witness it.

“You missed me that much?” you whispered into his soft hair as he babbled nonsense, tiny fingers grabbing at your collar. “I was gone for, like, twelve hours.”

Across the room, Johnny was already there, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen like he’d been waiting for his moment. Coffee in hand, wearing that compression shirt he definitely chose just to be annoying.

"You again?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

You tossed him a look as Franklin nuzzled into your shoulder. “Charmed, aren’t you.”

He didn’t move right away, just took a long sip of his coffee, his eyes tracking your every movement. Then he pushed off the frame and strolled over, already hovering. Already being him.

"You're holding him wrong," he said, casually.

You adjusted your grip by maybe a centimeter. “He’s literally clinging to me like a baby koala. He’s fine.”

Johnny peered closer, dramatic as ever. “Just saying. Wouldn’t want his tiny spine to misalign or whatever.”

You gave him a slow side-eye, shifting Franklin onto your hip. “First of all, that’s a morbid thought. And second, I’m a woman, Johnny. I have maternal instinct. Trust me.”

“Oh, maternal instinct,” he repeated with a grin, circling you now like a shark with a caffeine addiction. “How could I forget? That’s why you were letting him chew on the remote last week, right?”

“That was one time.”

He leaned in close like he had a secret. “Pretty sure it still turns the TV on.”

You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let your smirk win. “Keep it up and I’ll put you in time out.”

“Oh no,” he mock gasped. “Not time out. You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would dare.”

There was a beat where your eyes locked. Franklin squealed between you, but Johnny didn’t look away. Not right away. He was close now. Close enough that you could see the flecks of amber in his eyes under the warm glow of the living room’s lights, close enough to feel the lingering heat radiating off his skin even through your long sleeved blouse.

His smirk pulled into something a little more crooked, more familiar. “You’re all mouth today.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Worried I’m better at it than you?”

He leaned in, lips brushing your cheek first, barely and featherlight, then ghosted toward your mouth with maddening slowness. And then he kissed you.

Not a dramatic kiss. Not one of those kiss-you-against-the-wall kinds he sometimes pulled when it was just the two of you. This one was simple. Barely parted lips. Warm. Easy. A “hi” with no fanfare. Like he kissed you this way every morning, and every morning was quietly spectacular.

You let yourself lean into it, just for a second, before pulling back with a hum. “Hi to you too, I guess.”

He smiled against your skin. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“I was eating breakfast when Sue called,” you said pointedly. “And I couldn't decide what to wear today.”

“You always look nice,” he said quietly, teasing still, but something else was there. Fondness. A thread of something unsaid. “You know that, right?”

You blinked. “Was that... a compliment?”

He took another sip of coffee, turning on his heel. “Don’t get used to it.” Stingy kind of guy he’s being.

“Too late,” you called after him, grinning. “I’m adding it to my journal entry.”

“Let me know when you get to the one called ‘Why Johnny Storm’s Parenting Advice Should Be Ignored.’”

“I already started on that one months ago. It’s titled ‘He Tried to Feed the Baby Gummy Bears.’”

Johnny’s laugh echoed from the kitchen.

The rest of the day was spent in the whirlwind that came with babysitting a very active, very curious 8 month old cosmic baby. Franklin had recently learned how to crawl, and boy, did he take that freedom seriously. He was everywhere. Under chairs. Behind the couch. At one point, you caught him trying to bite the rubber corner guard off the coffee table.

By early evening, you were tired in a way that only chasing a crawling human all day could make you. After dinner prep was done and you’d managed to stop Johnny from feeding Franklin mini marshmallows as a "snack," you brought the little one to his colorful, plush-filled nursery for some quiet playtime.

"Alright, bud," you sighed, flopping gently onto the carpeted floor, surrounded by oversized stuffed animals and rainbow-colored stacking toys. "I’m just going to lie down here for one second. Just one."

You cradled your head on the soft belly of a giant stuffed lion and closed your eyes. You didn't expect sleep. Just a moment. A pause.

You felt the soft thump of baby hands crawling across the carpet.

And then, a warm little head rested beside yours. Franklin's breath puffed softly against your cheek. His tiny fingers found your hand, curling around your pinky.

Your heart ached in the most beautiful way. A slow, quiet ache. You opened your eyes just a sliver and found him lying there, eyes fluttering closed, cuddled up beside you like you like a cute little cat.

You couldn’t move if you wanted to.

So you didn’t.

⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝

That’s how Johnny found you.

He paused in the doorway, mid-step, holding a bottle of formula he was meant to bring to you. The late golden light from the windows warmed the room in a hush, catching the softness of your expression even as you slept. Franklin, half on your chest, half on the plushie, still had one hand curled into yours.

Johnny stood still for a long time. He'd seen a lot in his life. Battles, crimes, explosions, chaos, but nothing ever hit him in the ribs quite like this did.

You and Franklin. Safe. Soft. Together.

Something flickered behind his heart. Longing. Gratitude. Love.

He crouched beside you, careful not to wake the baby, and reached out. His hand brushed your shoulder gently.

"Hey," he whispered, fingers warm against your blouse. "Dinner's ready."

You stirred, slow and a little groggy, blinking up at him. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven. Come on, Sleeping Beauty."

⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝

Dinner was warm, family style, with the table full of laughter and the soft clinking of cutlery. Sue was bouncing Franklin on her knee, grinning over at you with a fondness that felt like home.

"I don’t know what we’d do without you," she said suddenly, passing you the salad bowl. "Honestly. You’ve been here almost every week for seven months. Franklin adores you."

You flushed. "He’s easy to adore."

Reed looked up from his plate. "You’d make a good mother someday."

The words landed soft, like snow over your skin. Your breath caught.

Johnny didn’t say anything. But you felt his hand slide beneath the table, finding your knee, warm and steady.

You dared a glance at him.

He was already looking at you.

Dinner turned chaotic after that. Franklin smeared mashed potatoes on Reed's sleeve, which then he flicked peas across the table, and soon the baby-parent food fight had escalated to ridiculous proportions. You laughed so hard your sides hurt.

⌞══════════════════════════════════════════⌝

The Baxter Building was finally quiet.

Franklin had long since surrendered to sleep after an enthusiastic food war with his parents that left pasta shells in Sue’s hair and mashed peas clinging to the collar of Reed’s shirt. You and Johnny had slipped away somewhere after that. To shower, to change, to breathe. The usual post chaos ritual.

Now you were curled up on his bed, one of Johnny’s t-shirts hanging soft on you, your legs tucked under his sheets like you belonged there. Because, at this point, you kind of did.

Johnny stood near the window, one hand braced on the sill, the other ruffling damp hair with a towel. City lights flickered against the pane behind him, casting him in silhouette.

“You know,” he said after a long stretch of quiet, “Reed’s right.”

You glanced over, lazy with comfort. “About what? I’m a goddess? I should be rewarded for my patience with Franklin?”

He smiled, just a little. “That you’d make a good mom someday.”

Your breath caught, not because it was the first time you’d heard it, but because this time it was him saying it. Voice low, not teasing. Sincere. Weighty.

You lowered your eyes, nervous suddenly. “That’s… not something people usually say if they’re not thinking long term.”

Johnny shrugged off the towel and finally turned toward you, walking slowly until he reached the edge of the bed. He sat beside you, then leaned back on one arm, watching your face. Watching the way your fingers worried the hem of his t-shirt like it would answer for you.

“I think about it more than I should,” he admitted, quiet now. “Us. What we’d be like… later. When it’s not just babysitting.”

Your gaze met his again. He looked serious, but not in a way that made you want to run. Just the opposite.

He reached over and traced his fingers down your arm, stopping at your hand, interlacing them slowly. It meant something new now.

“You and me,” he said, voice softer than flame. “We’re already one Storm.”

Then he smirked faintly.

“Maybe one and a half.”

You blinked, smiling despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “One and a half Storm?”

He nodded, thumb brushing your knuckles. “You’ve practically moved in, Franklin loves you more than he loves me, and Sue thinks you're a superhero in disguise. Half a Storm now. Just need to make it official someday.”

You leaned in, forehead resting against his. “You keep saying things like that and I might actually cry.”

“I’d catch your tears before they hit the pillow,” he said. “I’m very fast. It's a whole thing.”

You laughed, soft and real.

He kissed you again then with no teasing this time. Just a quiet, grounding kind of kiss. The kind that said yes. yes, I want this. I want you.

And that night, when you finally curled into him under the blankets, his arms around you and your fingers still laced, you thought to yourself.

One and a Half Storm. You liked the sound of that.

A lot.

tag: @lady-violet

[triptuckers]

personal heater

pairing. johnny storm x fem!reader

summary. when the heater blows out in the midst of a large snow storm, you seek shelter in your boyfriends arms

content warnings. fluff, established relationship, cuddling, kissing, r can fit into his sweater, johnny calling you his girl. not proofread

word count. 1043

a/n. first time writing for johnny 😛

———

the only thing that kept you going throughout your day was the knowledge you’d be greeted with the best heating system this city had to offer. you trudged the streets of new york bundled up in more layers than you’d like to admit, going about your business begrudgingly. you had errands to run and promises to attend to, ones you wished could be set aside until the snow storm departed from the sky. the pretty white mounds of snow were much more pretty to admire when you weren’t ankle deep in it.

when you stomped your way towards the baxton building, snow crunching beneath your boots, relief washed over your body. the only thing that could make things better was sitting behind those front doors. you thought so, at least.

you were greatly disappointed when, instead of being met with a large hug of warmth radiating from the vents, you were met with temperatures cold enough to compete with what you’d just endured outside. with your warm layers still on, you knocked your boots clean of the snow, before stomping frustratingly towards the elevator to find your way up to the living quarters. your first stops were the common areas, and much to your dismay, both the kitchen and the living room were totally and completely empty. as if to make things worse, reeds lab was empty as could be.

that’s when you made your way to johnny’s bedroom. with your jacket drawn close to your body, you knocked softly. the noise was muffled only slightly by your gloves, though your knuckles met the door hard enough to echo through his room. he’d invited you over knowing you could utilize the heating well, even if it was a slight disguise to simply see you again. you were over often regardless, you practically lived there. when your boyfriend finally answered the door, his eyes fell on the most pitiful sight he’s seen in a while. there you were, shivering, with your arms crossed over your body and the biggest pout you’d ever given him.

“you promised it’d be warm,” you whined, teeth chattering together. truthfully, johnny didn’t notice. he always knew he ran warm, and by the looks of it, he runs really warm. he tugged you into his room in an instant, before jogging over to check the thermostat. 50°. while it may be below freezing outside, that was in no way warm.

“i’m sorry,” johnny cooed, coming back over to help you tug off your rather cold exterior. he hung up your winter coat as you pulled off your boots in a stumble. “i didn’t even realize, i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay,” you told him with the same pout, even if it wasn’t entirely the truth. when you were left in just a thin undershirt and a pair of soft joggers, he’d finally tugged out your favorite sweater of his. you were quick to tug it over your head as you speak some more.

“couldn’t even find reed to ask him about it. i was hoping he was somewhere fixing it.”

“he hasn’t been home for a few hours,” johnny murmured, gentle hands pulling you in by your shoulders. “i’ll tell him to fix it the moment he gets here.”

the moment he wrapped his strong arms around you was the moment you were engulfed in that warmth you were ensured earlier this morning. with a hand of his cradling the back of your head, you found solace in his broad chest, nuzzling into the heat radiating off of him. it never failed to amaze you how warm he is constantly. as much as you hated it during the summer time, the feeling of him clinging to you sometimes bordering unbearable, it was the greatest gift during the winter.

“promise?” you ask, voice muffled by his shirt.

“promise,” he confirms. “i won’t stop bugging him until he does.”

in the meantime, you were glued to johnny. you’d ushered him into bed, giving him no other choice but to lay with you. if the thick duvet wasn’t enough, his body definitely was. with you curled up beside him, head resting on his chest and a leg draped over his, there was no way you couldn’t be warm. his arms stayed wrapped securely around your body, trapping in every last bit of heat radiating off of him. it was enough to coax you asleep for nearly two hours, the last thing you remembering was the feeling of his lips brushing against your hairline in a soft kiss.

when you woke back up, there were two things you noticed. the first thing you noticed was that the bed was empty. johnny was nowhere to be seen, and you mourned the warmth immediately. the second thing you noticed was that the building was no warmer. in fact, you were convinced it’d gotten colder. not that you’d get up and check, though, not when the thermostat was halfway across the room. the only thing that had you even remotely moving from the bed was the sound of johnny’s voice echoing down the hallway, your head lifting from the soft pillow slightly.

“it’s 45° in here, she’s freezing!”

“we’re all freezing, johnny, just give me a second.”

“you’ve been home for twenty minutes! use that big smart brain of yours and get to workin’.”

you smiled weakly as you listened in on the tail end of the conversation, nose frozen stiff from the cold. wrapping the blankets tighter around you, you listened to johnny’s footsteps finally approaching his room again, slipping through the parted door and shutting it quietly. he realized after that you were already awake, giving the softest smile at the sight of you. he was welcomed back to bed with open arms, sliding into them and letting you wrap him up into a large hug.

“told you i’d give him a piece of my mind,” johnny told you, body warming you up once more.

“always so good to me,” you mumble, letting him settle in your arms this time, holding him much like he was holding you earlier in the evening. he lifted his head up only to kiss your lips, soft and loving, before settling back down against your chest.

“anything for my girl.”

[triptuckers]

yuck !

summary: love makes you sick. so why do you keep going back to him?

pairing: johnny storm x fem!reader

warnings: suggestive, minors dni, fwb to lovers, pessimistic! reader, no use of y/n, johnny is a lover boy, strong language, loosely based of yuck by charli xcx.

word count: 2.5k

author's note: Trying a new format for my writing! lmk if y'all prefer lowercase or capitalized teehee.take a shot for every fic i write that's based on a song. jk don't or you'll die. honestly send more song fics bc it gets me in a writing mood ! dividers by @uzmacchiato

"Oh Jesus Christ."

Sitting on your desk is a fresh bouquet of peonies. Again. You reach down to trash the, admittedly beautiful, arrangement away before your coworker, Olivia, stops you.

"Hey, hey not so fast," her hands snatch the flowers from your grip before they can tumble in your mini trash can. "My mom is coming to visit and these are perfect." Her fingers ruffle through the petals as she peers up at you.

You roll your eyes, "I'm glad someone's enjoying this."

"Don't act like you aren't giddy at the fact that Johnny Sto—," you slap a hand over her loud mouth. You really don't need the entire office knowing who the flower offender is.

"Shh. and No. He's just being a little shit. He knows we aren't serious." The frown on your face is a direct contrast to the grin on hers. She moves to her chair across from you. You can picture her kicking her feet under the table as she takes a direct whiff of the flowers.

"Sure, Jan," she nods, reapplying the lipstick you rubbed off with your hand.

"Okay, now you've gone too far. You know I love the Brady Bunch movie and you're using it against me," you groan. The pencil in your grip is shooting to her side of the desk. She watches it hit the computer screen lamely. Curse your poor aim.

"Woah, did someone fucking die? Why does it look like a funeral home in here," your other coworker, Ruth, exclaims. She's ten minutes late, as usual. She claims it's because of traffic, but she's setting down her purse in a way that makes sure her suspiciously fresh manicure isn't disturbed.

When you say you have a flower offender, you really mean it.

There's at least five— no scratch that, ten vases of flowers sat around your cubicle. At first you were confused. The note attached to the first one was nothing but a small "pretty flowers for a pretty girl - Johnny". You snorted, threw the note, and decided he was just being dumb.

But then it didn't stop.

The poor receptionist was sneezing for the rest of the day after placing fresh deliveries on your desk for the past two weeks. The box of tissues by her front desk as an apology from you.

"I wish it was my funeral," you mutter, before trashing the newest note into the bin without reading it.

"My stomach hurts. Maybe I should call him and cancel," you consider.

Johnny baited you into a dinner date tonight. And well, you wanna get lucky. So you agreed.

Olivia is cat sitting for you while you're busy getting wined and dined. The array of nail polishes she looted from the bathroom spread out over your living room as she meticulously applies polish to her pinky toe. "It's not hurting. They're called butterflies," she remarks.

You groan and flop on the sofa beside her, "Not butterflies. Moths. And I want them dead." She seems to be enjoying the shit show that is your love life, or lack thereof.

"Just admit you like him," she continued.

"I don't like him. I like his dick," you reason, watching as Olivia waves air to her freshly painted toenails.

She stops and grimaces, "Ew, keep that to yourself." Girlhood has a boundary now it seems.

"You say that like you wouldn't jump at the chance to be me right now, Liv," you protest.

"I would, which means I would also be, what's the word…," she raises a mocking finger to tap at her chin, "happy? Not everyone gets dicked down by a superhero every night."

"Not every night," you counter before slowly sinking back into the sofa, "…like twice a week." You know if you look up at her, she would give you a flippant eye roll.

She's right. You are lucky. And honestly you would have a better attitude towards the whole situation if he wasn't so committed to wanting more. After the first night you spent with him, you directly told him that you weren't looking for anything more than hook ups.

He had smiled like you hung the moon and stars. sheet splayed over his abdomen before replying, "That won't be a problem."

Lying jackass.

You swore off feelings, all it does is cause problems and a month long depression after it all crumbles down. It's been a few weeks now that you've been seeing Johnny, if you can even call it that. Usually it starts with him blowing up your phone, you not responding until halfway through the day, him flirting his way into seeing you that night, and you acting like you don't want to until eventually giving in.

She twists the bottle closed before resting her feet on your coffee table. "I think deep down you're happy to see him." Your cat, Charlie, meows somehwere from his perch in agreement. "Why else would you use your nice perfume and wear that new skirt."

You feel exposed.

"I can't want to look good?"

"No. I've seen you leave in a moomoo before."

Fuck. She's right. You feel like she just dumped a bucket of ice water down your back. When was the last time you went out with someone other than Johnny? And tried to look good, at that. You stand up quickly, the floor feeling like it's swaying under your feet.

"I gotta go," you mumble, sick to your stomach. The turkey sandwich from earlier almost rising up your throat. Olivia quickly tucks her feet towards her as you barrel past. You pause to scratch Charlie's head, hoping his certificate as an emotional support animal means anything. It doesn't help. He's also judging you. Damnit.

"Oh god," you breathe, before tiredly falling next to Johnny. To no one's surprise, you're in his bed. Again.

"Not my name but I'll take it," he groans, spent from the rigorous night you just shared.

He's covered in a thin sheet of sweat, droplets forming at the base of his hairline. The room is quiet, nothing but heavy breathing as you both try and slow your pulses down. It's weirdly intimate. There's a jazz record playing in the background that Johnny started before you arrived. A single candle lit on the corner of his desk. Both you're clothes tangled together on the floor trailing to the bed.

He's cleaned you both up and flopping beside you once more, still bare but he holds no shame. He's opening his arms and sliding you close to him before dipping his head low to steal a kiss.

"Uh-uh, you know the rule," you turn away to dodge it before it lands.

You have one rule that you live by with hook-ups. No kissing outside of the bedroom. It's not crazy, but it helps you sleep at night.

Johnny lets his head fall back onto his pillow. His hand is combing through your hair, softly brushing the sweaty strands away from your face. You try to ignore the hot flush burning its way up your neck.

Grhghrhh

Johnny blinks, "Was that your stomach?"

"No, it was my knee. Yes, it was my stomach."

You feel him shift as he reaches over to rummage through his nighstand. His hand returns with a package of Sour Patch Kids.

He drops it gently near your side. "Here, have some of these."

You sit up, "Thanks," you whisper. Did he know these were your favorite? As you rip open the box with as much grace as a toddler, you ask, "Why did you have these stowed away like contraband?"

"Because I saw you eat them once and wanted to have them here just in case you were craving them," he finishes sincerely. He fishes for a red candy, "I call dibs on these though." He pops it into his mouth before eliciting a theatrical moan. The candy leaves a trace of sour coating on his lips, and you resist the urge to kiss it off.

"If you look at the phone one more time, I'm gonna call him myself," Ruth huffed. Her eyes never left the computer screen, although she didn't need to look up to know you were fixated on abnormally silent phone in front of you.

You took edge of your finger from your mouth. You only bite your nails when you're anxious enough that the stress ball in your drawer isn't enough. And this situation calls for it.

Johnny Storm hasn't called you at all today.

Not once.

Which you would think would be a sigh of relief, right? Wrong. Because never in the two months you've been seeing him has he gone a day without absolutely blowing up your phone.

"Do you think he's in trouble? I haven't seen anything on the news but—," you ramble.

Ruth wheels her way into view, "He's the Human Torch. Unless he's fighting Elsa I'm sure whatever he's up against is the equivalent of swatting a fly."

"Unless he is fighting Elsa, ooh— or Frozone, and he's losing and possibly near-death at this very moment," Olivia contributed. She quickly backed her chair a safe distance away once she saw the murderish look in your eyes.

"Wow. You guys are such great friends. Truly."

Ruth exhales loudly before making her way towards you. "Babe, he's fine. He's probably just… ," she whirls her hands in the air dramatically, "..kissing babies and getting a key to the city or whatever people like him do."

"You're probably right, I don't know why I'm getting worked up." You take a deep breath in before grabbing the nearest pen, clicking the end anxiously.

"I mean, I think we all know why—," Olivia begins before she's cut off by the unmistakeable ringtone of the Fantastic Four cartoon theme song that Johnny himself programmed into your phone.

You're on your feet faster than you thought was humanly possible. Snatching the phone, you bolt outside the office doors to answer.

"Finally picking up on the first ring pretty girl?—"

"Where have you been? You had me worried sick, Johnny." You feel your voice shake before you can even it out.

"Woah, woah— what? I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you, I was on baby-duty while Sue was busy." He sounds genuine, worry lacing his voice from what you can hear from the static service.

Ugh, fuck him for making you feel bad. "Sorry I-I was just— I dont know, Ruth and Liv were giving me a hard time," you try to lighten the mood, "I almost thought I was gonna have to replace you."

"Nah, you can't get rid of me that easily, sweetheart."

You've shaved every part of your body three times. There are four different outfit combinations waiting on your bed. You've already brushed your teeth but considering going for a second go around. Your hand is catching a cramp from pulling your hair up, to taking it down, then back up again. Nothing feels right.

There's a sweat stain building on your shirt when you finally manage to step into the kitchen. Ruth is raiding your pantry for snacks, while Charlie is coughing up a hairball by the sink. Great.

"Please don't eat me out of house and home. Charlie's food is more expensive than mine," you beg. Ruth is cat-sitting tonight due to the fact that last time Olivia watched him, she ended up with cat litter in her hair. Don't ask.

"No promises." She pauses her rifling to look you up and down before continuing, "Something else is getting ate up tonight, too."

"Shut up. I didn't have anything else," you lie.

She seems to read you like a book, nodding along to whatever excuse you had for a thin tank top and strong vanilla perfume. "You smell like the Pillsbury Doughboy's asshole," she chortled.

"Fuck you, and I'm leaving." You playfully smack her arms before stepping out.

It's a brisk walk to the Baxter Building. Tall skyscrapers and flashy billboards to pass the time while you debate your choice of shoes. H.E.R.B.I.E better have a foot massage setting, you think to yourself.

As you get closer, you feel your pulse in your throat. Like frog and toad became friends in your esophagus. You can feel the sweat start to form again in your pits and the trembling of your feet as they carry you closer and closer to him. You've never had the urge to turn around and go home like this before.

You raise a hand to knock on the door. Why are you so nervous?

The answer comes in the form of a effortlessly domestic looking Johnny Storm. He's wearing a plain white tee, navy blue sweats hanging low on his hips. His hair is swept upwards from the unmistakeable mark of his helmet that he toyed with on occasion. He's leaning against the frame as his eyes light up at the sight of you. How can a man be this beautiful?

"You don't know how long I've been sitting at the door like an idiot," he smiles.

You settle into step beside him as you wander to the elevator. Has he always looked like this? Like an angel that was sent down for the sole purpose of damning you to Hell. Making you commit all seven deadly sins if it meant one more night with him.

He's mindlessly blabbering on about a rogue incident in Reed's lab before you come to the horrifying realization.

You like hearing him talk. You like when he blows up your phone at work for the stupidest reasons. You like when he kisses your hands after you've made him a random late night snack. You like pretending to hate him when that's not the truth.

You like him.

Actually, it's worse. Much worse.

You love Johnny Storm.

He seems to notice the dazed look in your eyes as the shocking truth has dawned on you. He pauses mid rant to wave a hand over your face. "Did you just see the future or what was that—"

"IthinkI'minlovewithyou"

He freezes.

"Oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with me." You drag both hands over your face before you start backtracking. "Let me out of here, I'm going ba—,"

The words don't fall from your lips before Johnny is crashing into you. The kiss is sloppy, a mixture of teeth and exhilerating want. His hands roam up your sides feeling everything, before making their way to cradle your neck. He's pushing your back against the elevator wall, easily locking you in place. You're sure you could stay here forever. This moment replaying on a loop for centuries.

Then the elevator dings open to the residential floor. You break apart when you realize you both are breathless. You wish you never had to breath again if that was the only barrier from kissing him forever.

"I'm in love with you, too." He says it so easily, like if someone asked if the sun was going to rise the next morning.

"Do you think I'm ever going to hear the end of it from Liv and Ruth?"

"Not a chance," he grins, before dragging you to his room.

[triptuckers]

guys the johnny storm fic idea that’s sitting in my notes rn…

[triptuckers]

Blabbermouth

johnny storm x fem!reader content warnings: none! all fluff! summary: on a mission, Johnny gets sprayed with something that makes him way too honest. you try to keep him quiet, but he blurts out all the things he’s been holding back, especially how long he’s been in love with you. wc: 2k

masterlist.

It was supposed to be a standard sweep.

Alien bunker. Low threat. Weird tech, strange symbols, and enough glowing crystals to make Reed’s voice crack with excitement. Johnny had been bored from the start—hovering in the back of the group, tossing a ball of flame between his fingers while Ben kicked open doors and Sue cleared the path.

“I could be on a beach right now,” Johnny muttered, singeing the edge of a scorched blueprint with his pinky. “I deserve to be on a beach.”

“You got terrible sunburn last time,” Sue reminded him without looking back.

“It was a controlled burn.”

The air in the corridor felt stale, like something hadn’t breathed in there for centuries. They moved cautiously through the underground chamber, scanning for trip wires or pressure plates. Nothing. Just strange writing etched into the walls, humming with quiet energy.

That was the first sign something was off.

The second?

The pod.

It sat in the corner of the room. Dull silver, cracked slightly open, leaking a strange violet mist that curled and floated like it had a mind of its own.

Johnny, naturally, poked it.

“Johnny.” Ben snapped, too late.

The mist shot upward in a perfect puff—like a firework in reverse—right into Johnny’s face.

He blinked. Coughed once. Waved the smoke away.

“What the hell was that?” Sue asked, backing up with her arm half-raised for a shield.

“I’m fine,” Johnny said, squinting. “That was barely a breath. Not even spicy. Smelled kind of like lavender.”

Reed was already scanning him with some handheld monitor, muttering calculations under his breath.

Johnny grinned. “Relax, I’m fine. I feel great, actually.”

Then he looked at Sue and said, completely deadpan:

“By the way, your meatloaf sucks.”

A beat of silence.

“Excuse me?” she said, affronted.

“I’ve been pretending for years. I’m sorry. It’s bad. It’s like sadness in a pan.”

And that was when Reed declared the mission over.

The Baxter Building lobby smelled like smoke.

Not the scary kind. No alarms, no shouting, no flaming holes in the ceiling. Just a lingering warmth in the air, like someone had lit a match and forgot to put it out. You looked up from your notebook as the elevator doors slid open and the Fantastic Four filed in, one by one.

Reed had a sample tube in his hand. Sue was wiping green goo off her shoulder with a sigh. Ben was muttering something about “next time, I swear I’m bringing a flamethrower.”

And Johnny…

Johnny was beaming.

“Hey, guys!” he said way too brightly, his eyes going wide when he spotted you. “Look who it is! It’s the prettiest person in the tri-state area. No, the planet. Actually, the universe. Easy.”

You blinked. “Johnny?”

He marched right up to you with zero hesitation and zero regard for personal space.

“Hi,” he said, grin full blast, cheeks flushed. “You look amazing. I love that shirt on you. And your hair? Perfect. Is that a new lipstick? It’s making me go crazy. In a good way.”

“…Are you okay?”

“Me? Never better,” he said, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Got sprayed with a weird puff of alien gas in a tunnel, but I feel fantastic. And also, I’ve been thinking about how your laugh sounds like windchimes, and how it makes my chest all floaty and-”

“Johnny,” Reed interrupted from across the room, brows furrowed behind his glasses. “I need you to sit down.”

“I am sitting down,” Johnny replied.

“You’re standing.”

“Well, emotionally I’m sitting. Emotionally I am in a beanbag chair. Staring at-” he turned back to you, “a literal work of art.”

Sue groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Reed, tell me he didn’t breathe that stuff in.”

“He did,” Reed said grimly. “And based on his current behavior, I’m hypothesizing a psychochemical compound similar to a truth serum. But stronger. Less filtered. More impulsive.”

“Sweet,” Ben said. “So he’s just gonna be running his mouth until it wears off?”

“Correct.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good.”

You turned back to Johnny, whose attention hadn’t wavered once. He looked like a golden retriever that had just discovered affection. His smile was stupid. His eyes were shining. His hair was a little windblown and he had a small scratch on his cheek, but he looked annoyingly good.

“I am so sorry,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You probably don’t feel like yourself right now.”

“I feel great,” he replied. “Your hand is soft. Did you know that? Have I told you that before?”

“Johnny-”

“And I love that perfume. It’s not too much. It’s, like, subtle but deadly. I would let it kill me.”

“Okay-”

“I’m in love with you, by the way.”

Silence.

Your mouth dropped open.

Sue choked on her coffee.

Ben muttered, “Aw, hell.”

Johnny blinked. “Oh. Should I not have said that?”

The words just…hung there.

Like a balloon popped in the middle of a silent room. Time slowed. You felt your ears go hot, your heart skip. Johnny stood there, blinking at you like he didn’t just say that, like he hadn’t just detonated the emotional equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the middle of the Baxter Building.

“Okay,” you said, voice tight. “Okay. So you’re, uh. You’re drugged. That’s cool. That’s fine. Everything’s cool-”

“I’m not drugged,” Johnny said proudly. “I’m just finally free.”

Sue set down her coffee with a loud clunk. “Johnny, shut up.”

“I won’t!” he declared, like he was giving a toast. “I have been in love with her for, like, six months- maybe more, who’s counting, not me, except that I definitely wrote it in my notebook at one poin=t”

“Oh my God,” you whispered.

“And I didn’t say anything because I thought, hey, you’re normal, right? And I’m me. Human torch. Fire boy. Disaster man. I figured if I told you, you’d run for the hills or laugh or worse. But I think about you all the time.”

“Johnny-”

“Like, all the time. Like, embarrassing amounts. Like I have quotes you’ve said stuck in my head like song lyrics.”

"Johnny can you-"

“I memorized the way you say my name,” Johnny added, eyes wide, honest to God sincere. “You say it different than everyone else. It’s like…softer. Like you’re letting me be someone else when you say it.”

You wanted to disappear.

No. You wanted to melt into the floor.

Or maybe fly into the sun.

But instead you stood there, frozen, while Johnny kept going, still not done.

“One time I flew over your apartment window to make sure you got home okay after that dinner with that guy you didn’t like. And I pretended it was a patrol run, but really I just wanted to make sure your lights turned on. And I saw them. And I smiled for, like, an hour.”

“Oh my God,” Sue muttered into her hands.

“Also!” he added brightly. “I have a collection of vinyls in a box labelled ‘If She Ever Lets Me Kiss Her’ and I will be playing it in full if that moment ever comes."

Ben was red in the face now, shaking with laughter. Reed just looked concerned.

You finally grabbed Johnny’s arm and pulled him into the hallway with a rushed, “I just need to talk to him, excuse us.."

Once the door clicked shut behind you, Johnny looked up at you with a dreamy smile.

“You’re holding my arm,” he said, like it was the best part of his whole day.

You stared at him. “Johnny.”

“Yes?”

“You are not in your right mind.”

“I’m in love.”

“No, you’re chemically compromised.”

He grinned wider. “Wow. That’s my favorite way someone’s ever said that.”

You ran a hand down your face, trying not to laugh. Trying not to feel the way your heart was pounding.

“You can’t just…say all that to me,” you whispered. “You can’t say things like that and not mean them.”

Johnny paused.

The smile softened. For the first time all afternoon, he looked a little serious. A little still.

“I do mean them,” he said quietly. “Every single word.”

You stared.

He wasn’t grinning now. He wasn’t performing. He was just looking at you like you were the only real thing in the room. No sparks. No flash.

Honest.

Open.

Yours, if you wanted.

“But,” he added, blinking slow. “If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I can…walk that back. Just, like, tell me, and I’ll make myself forget. Or I’ll pretend this never happened. I’ll do whatever you want. Just…don’t stop being in my life. I need you. Even if I don’t get to have you.”

You didn’t realize you’d moved until your hand was on his face, fingers cradling his jaw, thumb brushing the side of his cheek.

He leaned into it instantly, heat curling off his skin like instinct.

“You didn’t even ask if I feel the same,” you said softly.

“Do you?”

You nodded. Barely.

He didn’t say anything.

He just kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fiery.

It was warm. Solid. Real.

He tasted like cinnamon gum and something a little electric. He sighed into it like it was the one thing he’d been holding his breath for all this time.

When you pulled back, he looked dazed.

“You taste like strawberry chapstick,” he whispered. “I knew it.”

You laughed, breathless, forehead pressed to his.

“What happens when the serum wears off?”

“I panic. Sue makes fun of me. Reed writes a report. I pretend I don’t remember any of this.”

“And then?”

He looked at you again.

“Then I kiss you again,” he said. “But on purpose this time.”

By the time Johnny woke up the next morning, the serum had long worn off, and the crippling realization of everything he’d said had kicked in.

He lay on his back in his bed, arm over his face, replaying it all in horror:

“I think about kissing you, like, constantly.” “I flew past your window to make sure you were safe.”

He groaned. Out loud. Into the void. Into his pillow.

“Oh my god.”

There was a knock at the door.

He flinched. “Go away.”

The door opened anyway.

“Morning, lover boy,” Ben said, way too cheerfully.

“I said go away.”

“Too bad. I brought company.”

Sue followed behind, sipping her coffee. “How’s our little truth bomb?”

Johnny rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. “Dead. Gone. I’m quitting the team.”

“Aw, come on,” Ben said. “You were adorable. Real rom-com material.”

“Kill me.”

“I didn’t know your middle name was ‘romance’” Sue added.

“I swear to God-”

“And Reed says he’s almost done charting your ‘emotional spike timeline,’” Ben said. “Apparently you got more honest every time she smiled at you.”

“I will burn this entire building down.”

A soft knock interrupted his growing spiral of despair.

You stepped into the doorway, holding two mugs of coffee. One of them had little flame doodles on the side. Johnny peeked over his pillow, eyes wide like a scared cat.

You gave him a slow smile. “You, uh…remember yesterday?”

He groaned. Again. “Please say it was all a dream.”

“Nope.”

You walked over and handed him the flame mug.

“But it was a very good dream for me.”

His ears turned red. Bright red. Like the serum had activated all over again.

You sat gently beside him on the edge of the bed.

“I liked hearing the things you said,” you added. “Even if they were…sudden. And chaotic. And a little concerning.”

“So…you’re not never speaking to me again?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t hate me?”

“Definitely not.”

You leaned in, brushed your hand across his cheek, and kissed the corner of his mouth, warm and quick and real.

“I kind of want to hear more of the truth,” you murmured. “This time without the alien chemicals.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“Only if you promise to show me that collection of records.”

Johnny grinned, wide and stunned, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“I’ll even throw in choreography,” he said. “But I’m warning you—it’s a lot of finger guns and dramatic pointing.”

“Perfect.”

And for the first time in twenty-four hours, Johnny Storm thought:

"Yeah. That wasn’t so bad after all."

[triptuckers]

FALLING FOR YOU… LITERALLY | oscar piastri

^ྀི pairing: oscar piastri x clumsy! reader

^ྀི genre: FLUFF.

^ྀི context: You’ve always been clumsy—tripping over nothing, bumping into everything. Luckily, Oscar’s gotten so used to catching you that he can do it without even looking. It’s become a running joke in your relationship, but behind the teasing is a quiet kind of care: no matter how many times you fall, he’s always there to catch you. Literally.

^ྀི sophie speaks!: the votes between lando and oscar in the poll was extremely close so why not do both 💋 (requests:open)

You had long since accepted the fact that gravity had a personal vendetta against you.

You tripped over nothing on a regular basis. Uneven pavement? Instant faceplant. Carpet edge? Gone. Steps you walked up every day? Still managed to fall on the third one like it was new.

It had become such a frequent occurrence that Oscar didn’t even flinch anymore. He’d just… catch you. Like clockwork. Like it was scheduled. Like his reflexes had learned to expect it.

One time—your favorite and most embarrassing to date—you were walking through the paddock beside him. He was scrolling through his phone, casually replying to a message from Lando, when you caught your foot on the tiniest dip in the pavement.

You braced for impact.

But Oscar? He didn’t even look up. His arm shot out, fingers catching you by the crook of your elbow. With a small tug, he steadied you like it was no big deal. Like it was muscle memory.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Did you just catch me without even looking?”

“Mmhmm,” he murmured, thumbs still typing. “Third time this week.”

“You didn’t even flinch!”

“You fall the same way every time,” he replied calmly, finally glancing over at you. “Left foot. Mild panic gasp. Arms flail. It’s honestly kind of graceful now.”

You shoved his arm playfully, cheeks burning. “I’m going to start wearing knee pads.”

He just grinned. “Might be a good idea.”

⸻

It was a running joke between you two now. The paddock had noticed too.

Lando had once dramatically offered to buy you stabilizers like you were a toddler learning to walk. Pierre claimed you were trying to invent a new sport: Freestyle Faceplanting. Even Zak Brown got in on it once, laughing as you slipped on the steps leading into hospitality and Oscar caught you by the waist with a practiced ease.

“Again?” Zak had chuckled.

“She’s consistent,” Oscar had said coolly, not even breaking stride.

You groaned. “I’m never living this down.”

⸻

At home, it wasn’t any better.

You once knocked over an entire glass of water while reaching for the remote. Oscar was across the room but still managed to catch the cup mid-air while saying, “Babe.”

“I swear I’m cursed,” you’d muttered.

“No, you’re just…” he paused, searching for a diplomatic word. “Energetic.”

You gave him a flat look. “Just say it.”

“You’re clumsy.”

You threw a pillow at him.

⸻

Despite all the teasing, you knew Oscar secretly loved it.

There was a look he gave you every time you stumbled — a mix of fondness, amusement, and “of course she did.” The way his hands were always ready to steady you. The way he instinctively reached out when you were near ledges or steps or wires or literally anything that could even remotely be a hazard.

You’d tested it once. On purpose.

You were walking through the paddock beside him. You didn’t actually trip this time — you pretended to stumble, just a little, and sure enough, his hand shot out to grab your elbow, like a reflex.

You burst into laughter. “Oscar! I wasn’t even falling!”

“Don’t play with my instincts like that,” he said, eyes narrowing. “One day you’re gonna fall for real and I’ll think you’re joking.”

“You’re like a clumsy-girlfriend-safety-net,” you grinned.

He smirked. “Someone has to be.”

⸻

The jokes continued, but so did the care.

Like the time he wordlessly switched sides with you on the sidewalk to be closer to the curb.

Or when he told the team to move a cable because “Y/N’s coming and I don’t want to spend lunch at the med tent.”

Or when he gently held your hand walking up the stairs — not like a boyfriend being sweet, but like a man who had seen you trip too many times not to intervene.

But your favorite?

It was after a particularly long day in Monaco. The race weekend had been chaotic, the streets were narrow, the press had been overwhelming, and you were exhausted. You were trying to walk beside Oscar while balancing your phone, a drink, and your pass. It was only a matter of time before you dropped something — and trip, you did. Shoes catching on the cobblestone, body lurching forward.

This time, Oscar didn’t just catch your elbow. He tugged you directly into his chest, wrapping both arms around you, steady and warm.

“Okay, that’s it,” he murmured against your hair. “I’m buying you bubble wrap.”

You giggled into his jacket. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he corrected. “The falling is just part of the package.”

You smiled, nose buried against his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing I keep falling for you, huh?”

Oscar groaned. “That was so bad.”

“Still laughed though,” you smirked.

And with his arm around your shoulders and your balance forever in question, you walked on — tripping occasionally, sure — but always knowing he’d catch you.

Every single time.

[triptuckers]

made to be here

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

prompts: squishing the other's cheek + stroking the other's arm soothingly + leaning into the other's side — requested here and here, from this list! (3.1k)

a/n: did anyone say super fluffy osc fic because boy do i have a treat for you 😇

“Come home with me.” 

Oscar’s proposition comes out of the blue. You’re curled up on his couch with a book in your hands and his head in your lap when he blurts it out, breaking the comfortable silence you’ve been sitting in for hours now. 

Honestly, you thought he’d fallen asleep ages ago at the feeling of your fingers stroking through his hair absentmindedly, but when you glance at him, he’s fully awake, looking up at you with his usual neutral expression. 

“What?” You chuckle. You fluff his hair one more time before he sits up. 

“I want you to come home with me for the summer holiday.” 

That gets you to set aside your book, carefully marking your page before tossing it off to the side. Oscar leans forward, hair falling back into that perfectly messy swoop you love so much, cheeks rosy with your shared warmth. This kind of relaxed comfort isn’t something you get to have very often with him with the F1 season upon you. 

“Come home with you,” You repeat slowly, like you’ve somehow misheard him even though he’s sitting right next to you. He nods. “Like…meet your family?” 

“Yeah,” He says, nodding. Like it isn’t a big deal. His tone makes it seem more like he’s suggesting what to have for dinner, not taking a big step in your relationship together. “It’ll be nice.” 

Something about Oscar you have yet to get used to is how casual he is about things. To you, this is a big thing, but to him? Well, you’re not really sure what he thinks. 

“Osc, I’d be meeting your family for the first time. This is a big deal.” 

He blinks, cocking his head to the side in thought. “Um, yeah I guess it could be, sure. But you’ve already met them before, over video chat.” 

“That is so not the same thing!” You whine, leaning forward until your cheek presses against Oscar’s thigh. His hand moves to your back immediately, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Meeting them in person is something else entirely.”

“They’re gonna love you, you know that, right? I’m pretty sure they already do. My sisters keep asking me where you get your clothes from every time you post on Instagram.” 

You return to a sitting position, cocking your head at him. “And do you?” 

His nose wrinkles in confusion. “No? I just tell them I don’t know.” 

“God, you’re such a boy, Osc,” You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“Thank you? I’m taking that as a compliment even if it isn’t.” He shrugs, laying an arm across the top of the cushion behind you. He reaches out, gentle fingers stroking your arm soothingly. “So, what d’you say? Come home with me, meet my family?” 

You take in the sight of him, the tilt of his head and the softness in his smile and the happy crinkles he gets by his eyes whenever he’s happy. “Okay,” You agree. (Like you were ever going to say no to him in the first place.) “A summer holiday to Melbourne it is.”

-------

The handful of days before summer break fly by quicker than you can imagine. Now you're standing on the front step of Oscar’s childhood home, nervously clicking the button on the handle of your suitcase like it suddenly gained the ability to teleport you home. 

“I think I might throw up.” 

Oscar’s nose crinkles when he looks at you. “Gross. Are you being serious?” 

“Not really. I think. My stomach feels weird.” 

“You're nervous.” 

“No shit, genius.” 

An amused laugh snort escapes his mouth. “Oh, you really are nervous.” 

“I will smack you.” 

“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” He says, shrugging. Then you shoot him a pointed look and he holds his hands up in surrender. “But I know it is a big deal. And I will try my best to remember that.” 

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing none other than Oscar’s mum and dad. 

“You’re late!” His mum exclaims, though her fond expression tells you that she really doesn’t mind at all. In fact, she just looks beyond relieved that her son is home. His dad looks the same. 

“Hi, mum, dad,” He says softly, accepting the bone crushing hug she gives him. He doesn’t even say a word when she fusses over him, wonders if he’s eating enough and getting enough sleep, and then berates him for not calling her more often whilst he’s been away in the very same breath.

You can tell right away, he’s happy to be home. 

You stay back, wanting to let Oscar have this moment with his parents, but Nicole Piastri turns her gaze on you next. Part of you is a little intimidated, but then she breaks into a smile like a carbon copy of Oscar’s and any worries you have start to melt away. 

“Don’t be rude, Oscar, introduce us to this lovely young woman!” 

“I was getting there!” Oscar laughs, escaping his mum’s clutches to slide a hand around the small of your back, nudging you forward. “You guys remember my girlfriend.” 

Oscar’s mum says your name with such maternal warmth, you don't even recall why you were so nervous to meet his family in the first place. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s so nice to finally meet you face to face! Video quality doesn’t do justice to how gorgeous you are, my goodness.” 

“It’s really nice to meet you too, Mr. and Mrs. Piastri,” You say politely.

“There’s no need for that,” Oscar’s dad insists, waving away any formalities as you cross the threshold into their home. “Chris and Nicole is just fine.” 

“Oh, um, okay! Thank you for having me, by the way. I hope it’s okay I brought dessert, Oscar’s always raved about a bakery in town that has amazing pastries. I may have gone a little overboard and gotten a bunch of them for everyone to try,” You admit sheepishly, holding up the giant box. 

It’s true, Oscar had told you about the family owned bakery many times, the same place where his mum would buy anything for a special occasion. You’ve been wanting to try it, but you’d also chosen to get a little of everything to smooth out any awkwardness with his family if there was any. If they’re anything like Oscar, dessert is always the answer. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Oscar asks, peering around in search of his sisters. 

“All out with their friends, but they’ll be back soon for dinner. Your dad’s about to fire up the grill, we've got steaks and chicken—oh no, I forgot to ask if you had any dietary restrictions, hon.” 

“She doesn't,” Oscar chimes in before you can respond. His mum swats him on the arm. “What?” 

“She can answer for herself, Osc!” 

“But I was just—” At her pointed look, he snaps his mouth shut, looking at you with an expression that screams help me.

“He's right, I’ll eat anything,” You chuckle. 

“I can see why my son loves you so much! Y’know, he talks about you all the time. Whenever I can wrangle him for a call—which, let me tell you, is like pulling teeth—he always chats about you nonstop. His sisters tease him about it too, but they’ve always liked to poke fun at their big brother—” 

“Okay, alright, mum! Let’s not scare her off just yet, yeah?” Oscar says, absolutely red in the face with embarrassment. 

He hurries you upstairs before his mum can share any more stories, but you’ll be sure to get your fix of them in the mornings, when he’s busy snoring away. Where Oscar is an enjoyer of sleeping in, you thrive in the quietness of early morning. 

You barely have time to set your bag down at the foot of the bed before he’s tugging you into his room right across the corridor. Looking around the cozy room, you take in every bit of the version of Oscar you haven't had the chance to know. 

Trophies and medals and stacks of books sit neatly on shelves, posters of cars and pictures with jagged edges from being torn out of magazines plastered all over the walls, photos of friends and family tacked onto a cork board above a terribly cluttered desk. Even though it hasn't been occupied in a while, it still feels very lived in. 

You can almost picture little chubby cheeked Oscar reading vigorously through car books with a torch under the blankets at night when he was supposed to be asleep. 

A lone koala stuffed animal sits on the small bed tucked into the corner of the room, obviously well loved and facing the door like it had been waiting for Oscar’s arrival. 

“Oh. My. God.” You plop onto the bed with a bounce, gathering the soft toy into your arms with a giggle. Oscar scrubs a hand down his face, cheeks tinged pink. “It’s you!” 

“Just because I’m Australian doesn't mean every koala is me,” He sighs, rolling his eyes playfully. You make the koala’s paw wave, peering at Oscar with pouted lips. “And besides, his name is Turbo.” 

You laugh then, loud and clear and so full of joy it makes Oscar’s heart leap right out of his chest. 

You look like you belong here, sitting on his bed in his childhood room hugging his favorite stuffed animal. In another life, one where racing never came into the picture, you’d spend hours and days here together, sprawled out on the carpeted floor eating snacks and laughing until your stomachs hurt. 

In another life, you might’ve grown up knowing you loved each other your whole lives. 

But then again, if he never took up racing, he never would've gone to boarding school, never made his way to Formula 1. Never met you in the first place. So, he wouldn’t trade this life for anything. 

“Turbo! Of course his name is Turbo, you absolute nerd.” 

Oscar gives a little snort at your quip, taking a seat next to you. “I wasn't very original when I was nine.”

“Definitely not. Sure were a little cutie, though. Look at those cheeks! You’ve still got that baby face, you know.” 

“I do not.” He frowns, pressing his lips together. 

“You so do, don’t even try to deny it.” 

“I don’t see it.” He shrugs. You knock your knee against his. “I don’t!” 

“Fine, live your life in denial. I, for one, adore your baby face.” You squish his cheek between your fingers, grinning widely at him, and it makes him roll his eyes playfully. 

Just so he doesn't have to listen to you talk about it any more, he leans in to kiss you then. On instinct, you meet him halfway, eyes fluttering shut as his lips press against yours gently. 

For a second, you almost forget where you are. It isn’t until Oscar’s kisses start to stray towards your jaw that you remember. 

“Oscar!” You gasp quietly, splaying a palm over his chest. He rears back, brows pinching in confusion, eyes squinting. “Your mum and dad are right downstairs.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“So we can’t.” 

Oscar makes an indignant sound out the back of his throat, pushing in a little closer still. “They’re busy. It’s not like anyone’s gonna come upstairs, my sisters aren’t even home. Besides, I haven't kissed you in so long I’m starting to forget what it's like.” He grins boyishly, head lolling to the side. 

“I kissed you after we got off the plane.” 

“Yeah, but that was, like, an hour ago. Way too long.” 

“You’re feeling deprived?” You giggle, bumping your shoulder against his. 

“Very.” He nods. “Help a guy out?” 

“I guess I could.” 

“How gracious of you. C’mere.” Oscar slots his mouth against yours with a lazy smile, sliding a gentle palm around the back of your neck. 

He’s too big for this bed now, but he doesn't let it stop him from guiding you back down against the mattress, pushing himself onto his elbows without breaking the kiss. 

“Osc, d’you still have—oh shit!!!” 

Oscar shifts his body over yours in a flash, shielding you from view as if you aren’t still completely clothed. (Had it been a few minutes later, well, that you couldn’t say for sure.) 

“Edie!” He snaps. He doesn’t sound mad though, just firm. “Ever heard of knocking?” 

“Your door was open, you moron!” Edie exclaims. You can see her with her hand over her eyes through the gap between Oscar’s arm and chest. 

You’ve just been caught making out with your boyfriend on his childhood bed by his sister, and it’s absolutely mortifying. 

“Get out!” He says exasperatedly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hi! It’s really nice to finally meet you!” Edie chirps, waving at you. You manage a feeble wave back, smiling as best you can given the circumstances. So much for a good first impression. “I love your top! Where’d you get it?”

Oscar groans, turning to shoot a glare her way. “Out!” 

“Ugh, okay! I’m going!” 

She does shut the door on her way out, something Oscar and yourself should’ve done the moment things started to get heated. Oscar drops himself by your side, wedging himself in between you and the wall with a groan. You roll over to face him, cheeks still burning hot. 

Truly, this might have been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. 

“I’m never living that one down,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You?” You whine, burying your face in your hands. “What about me? Edie will never look at me the same! She might be scarred for life.” 

“Trust me, she’s seen a lot worse before. She’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t think I even want to ask about that,” You huff. You wriggle out from under him, going over to the mirror in the corner to make sure you look as non-kissed as possible. Oscar pouts from behind you, having flipped onto his back to watch you straighten yourself out. “What? We’re going downstairs.” 

“Right now?” 

“Right now.” 

“But we were a little busy before Edie barged in,” He reasons, coming to stand behind you. An arm winds around your waist, chin nestling on your shoulder as he meets your gaze in the mirror. You level him with a pointed look, brow raised. “Point taken. You’re right, of course.” 

“Always am.” 

“Right again. Don’t know what I was thinking. Certainly not anything to do with you laid out on my bed like some sort of—” At the elbow you press warningly against his ribs, he clears his throat, cheeks flaming pink. “Uh…nevermind. Nothing.” 

“Thought so,” You hum, smiling. “Let’s go meet your sisters, shall we?” 

-------

Dinner goes swimmingly. 

Any worries or fears about Oscar’s family not liking you have disappeared the longer you get to know them, and by the time night falls, you feel comfortable with them. They don’t treat you like Oscar’s girlfriend that they’re just meeting for the first time, they treat you like one of their own. Like you’re part of the family already.

His sisters have no shortage of funny stories about him and they don't hesitate to tell you all of them, which you return with a whole slew of stories of your own. His parents, particularly his mum, join in eventually, and it makes you laugh so much your stomach hurts. 

Oscar sinks lower and lower into his seat with every story, cheeks growing pinker and pinker until he looks thoroughly embarrassed of the attention on him. He’s still got an arm draped over the back of your chair, fingers that smooth over your arm and shoulder soothingly (more for his own sake, than anything, really), occasionally pinching where he can when you bring up particularly embarrassing moments of his. 

As night falls, you all move to the backyard, where Oscar’s dad gets the firepit going as you all settle into the various comfy sofas surrounding it. They all insist on not letting you lift a finger to clean up dinner, which Oscar gets a rare free pass from as well, much to his delight. 

Finally alone again after hours of talk, Oscar tugs you down next to him with a loud exhale, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. 

“You seem like you’re having a little too much fun with them,” He notes. He looks thoroughly unimpressed, as he always does, but you swear you can see a smidge of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You shrug nonchalantly. “I’m starting to think I should’ve kept all of you far, far away from each other.” 

“What? No! I like it here, Osc,” You giggle at last, leaning into his side. You fit perfectly under his arm as if you were made to slot in right there, cheek smushing against his chest, knees drawn up to yours as you smile innocently up at him like you’ve never done wrong in your entire life. 

“You mean you like ganging up on me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Yeah, right. Sure,” He snorts. You press a kiss to the side of his neck to placate his huffing and puffing, another to the underside of his jaw, then his cheek, everywhere you can reach until he gets fed up with your teasing and plants his mouth on yours for a proper kiss. 

There isn’t much kissing that can be done before Oscar’s family comes back outside, but you’ll take what you can get from him at this moment. When you pull back, he looks pleasantly dazed, a little unfocused in the eyes to go hand in hand with his almost noticeable kiss-swollen lips.

“I really like your family, Osc,” You whisper, stroking a thumb under his eye tenderly. All Oscar can do is blush the same color as your lipgloss smudged on his mouth and nod. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“I think my mum would’ve strangled me if I didn’t bring you round to meet everyone soon. The texts she’s been sending have been oddly cryptic,” He says solemnly, looking entirely serious. You burst into a bout of giggles so infectious Oscar can’t help but start to chuckle himself, until you’re both laughing uncontrollably with no real reason why. “Y’know, I think we need to call it a night.” 

“Why? You still think there’s a chance of starting where we left off earlier?” You tease. Oscar shrugs, head cocked to the side like the thought had crossed his mind, and you scoff, elbowing him lightly. “In your dreams, babe.” 

“I was actually talking about beating jet lag, but hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

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[triptuckers]

puzzle pieces - gr63

summary: a new strategist who happens to be a single mom of a five-year-old girl joins the mercedes team for the 2025 season, and george fits in their world like puzzle pieces. wc: 13.3k + social media posts

folkie radio: MY FIRST GEORGE LONG FIC !!! im not that confident about it but i really hope you like it ! let me know all of you thoughts

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

📍Melbourne, Australia

You're huddled in the darkest corner of the Mercedes garage in Melbourne, your silver shirt dampened with tears as you try to muffle your sobs. The Australian Grand Prix weekend has barely begun, but your heart is 16,000 kilometers away in London, where your five-year-old daughter Amelia is fighting a nasty fever. Your mother had called an hour ago - Amelia's temperature wasn't going down, and she kept asking for you between fitful naps.

The garage is a flurry of activity, with mechanics and engineers rushing around to prepare for the first practice session of the 2025 season. You know you should be at your station, going through the setup parameters with Kimi, who you'd worked with during his F2 championship run at Prema last year. The transition from F2 to Mercedes F1 had been smooth, largely because Kimi had practically begged the team to bring you along when they signed him. But right now, you feel like the worst mother in the world for being so far away from your baby girl.

"Hey, are you alright?"

The soft, distinctly British voice makes you jump. You quickly wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, mortified to find George Russell, your other driver, standing there with concern etched across his features. At 27, he's the same age as you, but while you're a mess of tears and worry, he looks immaculate in his race suit, the top half tied around his waist.

"I'm so sorry," you stammer, trying to compose yourself. "I'm being completely unprofessional. I should be with Kimi, going through his-"

"No, no, don't apologize," George interrupts, crouching down beside you. His eyes are kind, and there's genuine worry in his voice. "Kimi mentioned you seemed upset. He's worried about you too, kept asking if anyone had seen where his 'Team Mom' disappeared to."

You manage a weak laugh at that. Kimi had started calling you that in F2, and the nickname had stuck. "I should go find him, he'll be nervous about his first F1 weekend-"

"He's fine," George assures you. "What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?"

The kindness in his voice makes fresh tears well up in your eyes. "My daughter," you manage to say. "She's sick back home in London. She's only five, and I've never been away from her for so long, and now she has this fever that won't break, and I just-" Your voice cracks.

"I didn't know you had a little girl," George says softly. "What's her name?"

"Amelia," you reply, a small smile breaking through your tears at the thought of your daughter's bright brown eyes and untameable curls. "She was so excited when I got this job. She made me promise to bring home one of those tiny Mercedes model cars they give out during race weekends."

George smiles warmly. "I'm sure you have an amazing support system back home helping you out with her?"

You bite your lip, looking down at your hands. "It's just me and her, really. And well, my parents help when they can. I'm a single mum."

His expression shifts to one of deeper understanding. "Oh, I didn't know that. That must be really challenging, especially with a job like this."

"It is," you admit, wiping away another stray tear. "Most days I can handle it, you know? We have our routine, and Amelia's such a good girl. The team at Prema was amazing with her too, always making sure we could manage. But being so far away when she needs me..." You trail off, the lump in your throat growing bigger.

"Listen," George says, his voice gentle but firm. "Being a single parent in F1 is incredibly tough. I can't even imagine how you manage it all. But you're here, following your dreams, showing your daughter that anything is possible. That makes you an amazing mum."

You look at him, touched by his understanding. "It's just... I feel like I'm failing at both jobs right now. I should be focused on the race weekend, but all I can think about is Amelia."

"You're not failing at anything," he insists, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "And you know what? I bet Amelia is going to be so proud when she tells all her friends that her mum works for Mercedes F1. Speaking of which, we definitely need to get her one of those model cars. And maybe a signed cap too?"

You can't help but laugh through your remaining tears. "She'd love that. She's already telling everyone at school that she knows George Russell."

He grins, his eyes twinkling. "Well, now she actually does. Come on, let's get you some water, and you can tell me more about this little fan of mine. I've got some time before practice, and I'd love to hear about the girl who's apparently been spreading my fame in London playgrounds."

As you follow him toward the team's hospitality area, you feel a little lighter. Your worry about Amelia hasn't disappeared, but somehow, sharing it with someone who seems to genuinely care has made it a bit more bearable. Sometimes comfort comes from the most unexpected places, even from a Formula 1 driver in the corner of a garage in Melbourne.

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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 987,487 others

f1 NEW ADDITION TO THE SILVER ARROWS!

Mercedes F1 Team welcomes YN as their newest Race Strategy Engineer for the 2025 season! The 27-year-old British engineer joins from Prema Racing, where she spent three years working on race strategy and simulation.

Fun facts about YN: First class honors in Mechanical Engineering from Imperial College London Started her motorsport journey as an intern at Sauber in 2020 She was key to Kimi Antonelli's championship last year (he even calls her "Team Mom") She's a mum to 5-year-old Amelia 👶 Youngest strategy engineer on the current Mercedes team

Welcome to the Silver Arrows family, YN! 💫

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username1 love seeing more women in F1! and a mum too, that's incredible!

username2 i already stan her so bad

mercedesmagf1 Welcome to the best team on the grid! 🏁

kimi.antonelli THATS MY TEAM MOM!

username3 impressive cv

username4 One of the minds behind Prema's brilliant season last year! Mercedes making smart moves for 2025

username5 Imperial College London grad 🤓 She's definitely got the brains for this!

username6 THIS DIVA

georgerussell63 Welcome to the team! 🌟

liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 54,098 others

yourinstagram First race weekend with @/mercedesamgf1 in the books! ✨

Still pinching myself that this is real. What an incredible start to the season: P3 for @/georgerussell63 and P4 for @/kimi.antonelli! Proud to be part of the team that made this result possible.

Special shoutout to everyone in the garage who made this rookie engineer feel so welcome (especially when I was having a bit of a mum meltdown missing my little one 🥺). The Silver Arrows family is real!

And to my little Amelia back home: Mummy's bringing back some very special presents from George and Kimi (aka Baby Driver) Thank you for being such a brave girl this weekend. You're the reason I push myself to achieve these dreams ❤️

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username1 AWE THIS IS SO CUTE

username2 her little girl must be adorable

georgerussell63 Couldn't have done it without you! See you in China (with presents for a certain little fan )

↳ username1 THE WAY HE SAID LITTLE FAN I'M CRYING

↳ username2 George is so sweet omg

mercedesamgf1 Silver Arrows family forever! 🌟

friend1 So proud of you! Amelia was screaming watching the podium 😂

username3 living the dream! you're such an inspiration!

username4 From one racing mum to another - you're crushing it! 💪🏼

username5 the way the entire F1 community is rooting for you

username6 I BET AMELIA CALLS KIMI BABY DRIVER AHH

kimi.antonelli love you team mom

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📍Shanghai, China

The Shanghai paddock is relatively quiet this early in the morning, and you've found a peaceful corner in the Mercedes hospitality area to have your breakfast while FaceTiming Amelia. She's excitedly showing you her school art project, a rather creative interpretation of a Mercedes F1 car, complete with glitter.

"And look, Mummy! I made George extra tall in the drawing!" she giggles, holding up her artwork where she's drawn a stick figure at least twice the size of the car.

You're in the middle of laughing when a familiar voice comes from behind you. "Did I hear someone say my name?"

Amelia's eyes go wide as George Russell himself appears in the frame, leaning over your shoulder with a warm smile, a coffee in hand.

"George!" Amelia squeals, pressing her face closer to the camera. "I drew you! You're really tall in my picture!"

George laughs, pulling up a chair beside you. "Well, I am quite tall in real life too! How are you feeling now, Amelia? All better?"

"Much better! I got a golden star at school yesterday for my maths!" She beams proudly. "And Sophie believes me now that my mummy knows you because I showed her my signed cap!"

"That's brilliant!" George responds enthusiastically. "You'll have to show me your maths skills sometime."

"Okay, sweetheart," you cut in, noticing the time. "You need to get ready for school now. Be good for Grandma, alright?"

"Okay, Mummy! Bye George! Good luck in the race!"

After you hang up, you can't help but smile at how Amelia has somehow managed to wrap one of Formula 1's top drivers around her little finger without even meeting him in person.

"You know," George says thoughtfully, taking a sip of his coffee, "why don't you bring her to one of the European races?"

You look up from your tea, surprised. "Oh, I... I hadn't really thought about it. I mean, I'd love to, but managing a five-year-old in the paddock while working..."

"Bring her to Silverstone," he suggests. "It's home race, your parents could come too. The team would love to meet her - she's practically our mascot now, the way Toto smiles whenever someone mentions 'George Russell's biggest fan.'"

You laugh, remembering how the team principal had been thoroughly amused by the story of Amelia's reaction to George's message. "She would absolutely lose her mind. She's been begging to see a real race."

"Then it's settled," George says with that characteristic Russell determination. "I'll talk to Toto about getting extra passes for your family. We can set her up in the garage with some headphones, show her the cars up close." He grins. "Plus, I need to see if she's as good at maths as she claims."

"George, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he interrupts gently. "You're part of the team now, and so is Amelia, in her own way. Besides," he adds with a playful smile, "I need to make sure my biggest fan gets the full Mercedes experience, don't I?"

You feel a warm glow in your chest, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, George. Really."

"Don't mention it," he says, standing up. "Now, how about you tell me more about this artwork where I'm apparently a giant? Should I be concerned about how I'm being portrayed to the next generation?"

As you describe Amelia's creative interpretation of the Mercedes team, complete with glitter and impossibly tall drivers, you find yourself looking forward to Silverstone more than ever. The thought of sharing your new world with your daughter, of seeing her eyes light up at the sight of the cars and meeting the team she's heard so much about... maybe George is right. Maybe it's time to bring your two worlds together.

"Oh, and YN?" George adds as he's about to head to the engineering briefing. "Tell Amelia to practice her maths. I'll be testing her when I see her."

You shake your head, laughing. Who would have thought that your daughter would end up with a Formula 1 driver as her personal maths tutor?

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📍Suzuka, Japan

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,985 others

f1updates Spotted: Mercedes driver George Russell grabbing coffee with the team's new strategy engineer YN outside the Suzuka paddock this morning. Could there be a new F1 couple on the horizon?

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username1 omg they look so cute together!! did you see how he's looking at her? 🥺

username2 okayy let's not be weird about this

username3 please chill out they're coworkers grabbing coffee

username4 she's the one who came from prema with kimi right? love seeing her settling in at mercedes!

username5 wait isn't she the single mom everyone was talking about during the melbourne weekend? when george was so sweet about her daughter being sick?

username6 kimi's team mom and george

username7 george russell 🤝 having excellent taste in both coffee and women

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The Bahrain paddock is eerily quiet at 1 AM, most of the team having retreated to their hotels hours ago. The gentle hum of your laptop and the occasional click of your mouse are the only sounds in the engineering room as you pore over tomorrow's race simulations for the hundredth time.

"You do know quali ended six hours ago, right?"

You jump slightly at George's voice. He's leaning against the doorframe, changed out of his race suit into casual wear, looking at you with concern.

"Just want to make sure we've covered all the scenarios for tomorrow," you mumble, stifling a yawn. "Your start position gives us a real chance at a win, I just need to-"

"YN," he interrupts softly, walking over to your desk. "It's 1 AM. The simulations will still be here in the morning."

You shake your head, forcing your tired eyes to focus on the screen. "I'm fine. I just need to run through these few more scenarios. Can't afford to miss anything."

George pulls up a chair, sitting beside you. "Can't afford to, or won't allow yourself to?"

Something in his gentle tone makes your carefully constructed walls crack a little. You sit back in your chair, running a hand over your face.

"I just... I need to prove I deserve this position," you say quietly. "I need this job, George. It's not just about the racing anymore. I have to put food on Amelia's table, pay for her school, her clothes, her future." Your voice catches slightly. "I'm all she has."

"What about her father?" George asks carefully, then immediately adds, "Sorry, that's none of my business-"

"No, it's okay," you say, surprising yourself. Maybe it's the late hour, or maybe it's just George's caring presence, but you find yourself wanting to talk. "He left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn't ready to be a father, that it would ruin his career plans." You let out a bitter laugh.

George's expression darkens. "What a-" he catches himself, but you can guess the word he's thinking of.

"Yeah," you agree. "Anyway, he signed away his rights before she was born. Hasn't seen her once in five years. Doesn't pay any support." You fidget with your pen. "So it's just me. Every promotion, every extra hour, every bit of overtime, it all goes to giving her the life she deserves."

"YN," George says softly, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "You're already giving her an amazing life. You're showing her what strength looks like, what dedication looks like. But you can't pour from an empty cup."

Tears prick at your eyes. "I'm just so scared of failing her," you whisper. "Every time I see a bill, or she needs new shoes, or I think about university fees in the future... I can't mess this up, George. I can't let her down."

"Hey, look at me," he says firmly. "You're one of the best engineers I've worked with. Toto wouldn't have hired you if he didn't see that. The team trusts you, I trust you. But working yourself to exhaustion isn't going to help anyone - especially not Amelia."

You wipe away a stray tear. "I just want her to be proud of me."

"She already is," George says with certainty. "I've seen how she talks about you, her mummy who makes the silver cars go fast. But I bet she'd be even prouder knowing her mum takes care of herself too."

You manage a weak laugh. "When did you get so wise?"

"Must be all those post-race press conferences," he grins, then stands up, offering his hand. "Come on. I'm calling you a car, and you're going to get some sleep. That's an order from your driver."

"Oh, pulling rank now, are we?" you tease, but you're already saving your files and shutting down your laptop.

"If that's what it takes to get you to rest, absolutely," he says. As you gather your things, he adds softly, "You know, you're not alone anymore, YN. The team... we look after our own. You and Amelia, you're family now."

Something warm unfurls in your chest at his words. As you walk with him through the quiet paddock, you feel a little lighter, like you've shared some of the weight you've been carrying for so long.

"George?" you say as you reach the paddock exit. "Thank you. For listening, for caring... for everything."

He smiles, that genuine Russell smile that makes his eyes crinkle. "Anytime. Now go get some sleep - we've got a race to win tomorrow. Can't have my strategy engineer falling asleep on the pit wall, can we?"

For the first time in weeks, you fall asleep without worrying about simulations or spreadsheets, George's words echoing in your mind: you're not alone anymore.

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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 67,890 others

yourinstagram Great triple header with a bunch of points for the team ! Super proud of George and Kimi and all the team who makes everything possible. Now it's home time where a certain little girl is waiting for me with hugs and drawings for her favorite drivers 🤍

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username1 WE LOVE YOU YNNN

username2 sometimes i forget that team members have families waiting for them at home and they spend so much time away at races

mercedesamgf1 Proud of our favorite engineer ✨

lando the famous amelia! eager to finally meet her

↳ yourinstagram She says her favorites are the silver arrow boys, but the papaya ones are also cool

username3 amazing job now time to resttt

username4 amelia must love kimi and george i'm crying

username5 you're a super mom! your little girl should be really proud

username6 rest queen you deserve it

kimi.antonelli love you team mom, say hi to my little bestie for me

↳ yourinstagram She says she can't wait to see you, baby driver

georgerussell63 Can't wait for more of Amelia's glittery good luck drawings

↳ yourinstagram She made you extra tall in those again

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You're curled up on your couch in your London flat, finally home after three grueling weeks of racing across different countries. The morning sun filters through your curtains, casting glow over Amelia's curls as she snuggles against you. She hasn't left your side since you got back yesterday, following you around the flat like a tiny shadow, even waiting outside the bathroom door. Now she's nestled into your side, her small hand playing with the sleeve of your jumper, a self-soothing habit she's had since she was a baby when she wants to make sure you're really there.

The TV is playing her favorite morning cartoons, but you can tell she's not really watching. She keeps glancing up at you, as if making sure you haven't disappeared in the last thirty seconds.

"Mummy?" she asks during a commercial break, twisting to look at you. "Does George miss us when we're not at the races?"

You smile at her use of 'us', even though she's never been to a race. "I don't know, sweetheart. Why do you ask?"

"Because you said he asked about me in Japan," she says matter-of-factly. "And he always says hi when you call me from the track." She pauses, then adds, "Sophie says her dad doesn't even remember to call when he goes on business trips."

You pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. Sometimes it startles you how perceptive five-year-olds can be. "That's because George is special. And you know what? You'll get to meet him at Silverstone."

"That's so far away," she pouts, crossing her arms. "It's ages and ages away. Does he know I got full marks in maths last week? Mrs. Thompson said my adding up was ex-cell-ent."

Before you can answer, your phone buzzes with a text. Speaking of the devil...

Your heart does a little flip as you read the message.

"Melia?" you say, running a hand through her curls. "How would you like to meet George today?"

The speed at which she sits up is almost concerning. "Really? Really really? Not just on FaceTime?"

"Really really," you confirm. "He wants to get coffee near the park."

Amelia launches herself off the couch, practically vibrating with excitement. "Can I wear my special cap? The one he signed? And my Mercedes shirt? And can I bring my drawings to show him? And-"

"Slow down, love!" you laugh. "Yes to the cap and shirt, and yes, you can bring one drawing. Now go get dressed while I text him back."

Two hours later, you're walking through Hyde Park, Amelia's small hand clutching yours tightly. She's wearing her prized Mercedes cap and has been chattering non-stop since you left home.

"Do you think he's as tall in real life as on TV?" she asks for the third time. "Will he remember that I said his car looked like a rocket ship? Can I show him my times tables? Do you think-"

"Breathe, sweetheart," you remind her gently, amused by her enthusiasm.

You spot him before she does, sitting at an outdoor table of the café. He's dressed casually in jeans and a white t-shirt, sunglasses perched on his head, looking nothing like the fierce competitor you see at races. He's doodling something on a napkin, and the sight makes you smile - he's nervous too.

"George!" Amelia calls out before you can stop her, and his face breaks into a bright smile as he stands up. He really is impossibly tall, you think, especially from a five-year-old's perspective.

"Hello there! You must be the famous Amelia," he says, crouching down to her level. "I've heard so much about you."

Amelia, usually so outgoing, suddenly turns shy, pressing against your leg. "Hi," she says softly, then adds with determination, "I got all my sums right at school. Even the hard ones with carrying over."

George's laugh is warm and genuine. "Did you now? Well, I brought something to test that." He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small notebook and some colored pens. "Thought we could do some racing maths while your mum and I have coffee. What do you say?"

Amelia's eyes light up, and just like that, her shyness vanishes. "Can we do sums about how fast you go? Mummy says you drive at three hundred kilometers per hour sometimes!"

"That's right," George grins. "Should we calculate how long it would take me to drive to the moon at that speed?"

"Don't get her started on space," you warn with a laugh. "We'll be here all day."

Soon, the three of you are settled at the table, Amelia perched on a chair between you and George as he draws race cars and creates simple math problems involving lap times and pit stops. You've ordered coffee for yourself and George, and true to his word, he's gotten Amelia a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

"Right then," George says, drawing a simple track layout. "If I'm two seconds ahead of Max, and each lap takes one minute and thirty seconds..."

"That's ninety seconds!" Amelia interrupts proudly. "Because sixty plus thirty is ninety!"

"Brilliant!" George exclaims, and Amelia beams. "Now, if we do ten laps..."

You watch them interact, your heart swelling. George is surprisingly good with children, patient and engaging as he turns mathematics into a game about racing. He listens intently to Amelia's stories about school, asks her opinions about different racing tracks ("Abu Dhabi looks like a spaceship!" she declares), and seems genuinely delighted by her quick mind.

"Your daughter is brilliant," George tells you during a moment when Amelia is focused on coloring a particularly detailed Mercedes car. "She's got quite the mind for numbers. Wonder where she gets that from?"

"Like mother, like daughter," you reply, then catch him giving you a soft look that makes your cheeks warm.

"Mummy's really good at numbers," Amelia pipes up, not looking up from her coloring. "She helps me count my pocket money and everything. And she knows exactly how many sleeps until every race."

The afternoon passes quickly, filled with laughter and racing stories. George tells Amelia about his karting days, and she hangs on every word, occasionally interjecting with facts she's learned from watching races with you.

"I started racing when I was about your age," George tells her. "Maybe a bit older."

"Really?" Amelia's eyes go wide. "Mummy, can I do racing?"

You see George trying to hide his smile at your slightly panicked expression. "Maybe we can start with something a bit less dangerous," you suggest. "Like your school sports day?"

"Oh!" Amelia bounces in her seat. "George, I'm going to run in races at school! We have a special day and everything!"

"Is that so?" George leans forward, genuinely interested. "When is this big race?"

"Next Thursday!" she says excitedly. "We get to wear our own clothes instead of school uniform and everything! And Mummy's taking the morning off work to watch." She pauses, then adds hopefully, "Will you come see me race? I'm going to run really fast, like you drive."

"Amelia," you start to say, not wanting her to put George on the spot, but he interrupts.

"Well, I'll have to check my schedule, but I'd love to come see you race," George says seriously. "What events are you doing?"

"The hundred meter dash," Amelia pronounces carefully, clearly proud of remembering the proper term. "And the egg and spoon race. And maybe the three-legged race if Sarah wants to be my partner."

"Those are very important races," George nods solemnly. "Almost as important as the British Grand Prix."

"More important," Amelia declares. "Because Mummy says taking part is what matters, not winning."

You catch George's eye over her head, and he gives you a warm smile that makes your stomach flutter.

As the afternoon light starts to fade, you reluctantly check your watch. "We should probably head home, love. It's nearly dinner time."

"Five more minutes?" Amelia pleads, in the middle of showing George her detailed drawing of what she thinks the Mercedes factory looks like (complete with a rocket launch pad, because according to her, race cars are basically rockets).

"Tell you what," George says, "why don't I walk back through the park with you both? It's such a nice evening."

The walk back is filled with Amelia's chatter as she skips between you and George, occasionally holding both your hands to swing herself forward. She's completely at ease now, telling George about her friend Sophie's hamster and how she wants a pet too.

"Maybe a racing dog?" George suggests with a wink at you.

"George!" Amelia says suddenly, stopping in her tracks. "Will you come to my birthday party? It's not for ages and ages, but Mummy says we can have it in the garden and there might be a bouncy castle!"

"Amelia," you say gently, "George is very busy with racing-"

"When's your birthday?" George asks, ignoring your attempt to give him an out.

"In the summer!" she says proudly. "I'm going to be six!"

"I think I might be able to make it," George muses thoughtfully. "If your mum says it's okay, of course."

You're about to remind them both that summer is months away when you reach your street. As you're saying goodbye, Amelia surprises both you and George by hugging his legs. "Thank you for helping me with maths," she says. "And for making the silver cars go fast with Mummy."

George's expression softens as he hugs her back. "Thank you for being such a great student. Keep practicing those sums, okay? I'll need to test you again at sports day."

Later that night, as you're tucking Amelia into bed, she asks sleepily, "Mummy? I like George. He's nice."

You smile. "Yeah, baby. He is nice."

"He listens when I talk," she continues, fighting to keep her eyes open. "And he makes you smile the pretty smile."

You brush her curls back from her forehead, your heart full. "Get some sleep, love."

"Can we see him again soon?"

"We'll see," you say, kissing her forehead. "Sweet dreams, love."

As you close her door, your phone buzzes with a text.

You lean against the wall, smiling at your phone like a teenager. Something warm and hopeful blooms in your chest, a feeling you haven't allowed yourself to experience in a very long time. The way George was with Amelia today, so patient and kind, so genuinely interested in her thoughts and ideas...

You fall asleep that night thinking about George's smile, Amelia's laughter, and the way your little family of two suddenly feels like it might have room to grow.

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yourinstagram Someone special showed up to support our champion🥇 Thank you @/georgerussell63 for being such a good sport (literally) and making a little girl's day!

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username1 THIS IS SO CUTE OMFG

username2 IT WAS REALLY GEORGE

kimi.antonelli my team mom and dad being cute again 😎 tell my bestie i'm proud of her medal!!

mercedesamgf1 Our driver taking his coaching duties very seriously!

charles_leclerc this is adorable! congratulations amelia! 🎉

georgerussell63 Best co-pilot ever! Thanks for letting me join sports day, champ!

username3 GEORGE RUSSELL SHOWING UP TO SPORTS DAY AND DOING THE PARENT RACE?? this man is unreal 😭

username4 the way he's just casually becoming dad of the year?? help??

username5 THIS IS NOT REAL

username6 kimi calling them team mom and dad i can't- this family dynamic is everything

username7 the way the entire paddock is just watching these two co-parent at this point

username8 george showing up to support his engineer's daughter at sports day?? this is literally a romance novel

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You're in the Mercedes garage at Monaco, triple-checking the timing screens when Kimi bounces in, still buzzing with energy despite just finishing FP2. At seventeen, he's the youngest driver on the grid, but his talent is undeniable, having him move up to Mercedes feels like watching your second child succeed.

"There's my favorite strategy engineer!" he announces, dropping into the chair next to you. "Where's my bestie? I thought Amelia was coming to Monaco?"

You laugh, ruffling his hair despite his protests. "Silverstone, kid. That's the plan for her first race."

"But that's so far away," he whines, sounding remarkably like Amelia when she's disappointed. "I need her to draw me a good luck picture too. George keeps showing off the ones she makes him."

At the mention of George's name, you feel your cheeks warm slightly. Kimi notices immediately, his face splitting into a mischievous grin.

"Speaking of George..." he starts, wiggling his eyebrows. "I saw you two in the engineering room yesterday. Looking pretty cozy over those strategy plans."

"We were working," you say firmly, though your blush deepens.

"Sure, sure," Kimi nods sagely. "That's why George gets this dopey smile every time someone mentions your name. Because of work."

"Shouldn't you be in your post-practice debrief?" you deflect, trying to hide your smile.

"Oh, I'm gathering important team information right now," he says cheekily. "Like when George is finally going to ask you out properly instead of pretending he needs to discuss strategy at midnight."

You swat at him with your notebook. "Focus on your driving, kid."

"I am!" he protests. "Now let me focus on my other job, getting my two favorite people together." He pauses thoughtfully. "Well, three favorite people. Amelia's my number one, obviously."

"Of course she is," you roll your eyes fondly. "She asked about you this morning, by the way. Wanted to know if her 'baby driver' was being good."

Kimi beams at the nickname. "Tell her I'm being excellent. Unlike some people who keep pining away instead of-"

"Who's pining away?" George's voice cuts in as he enters the garage, and Kimi's grin turns positively wicked.

"Oh, just talking about-"

"Your tire management," you interrupt quickly, shooting Kimi a warning look. "Which needs work, by the way."

Kimi gives you an exaggerated wink before turning to George. "Hey teammate, YN was just telling me about Amelia's new drawing. The one where she drew you holding the trophy in Monaco?"

George's face lights up. "She drew that? Can I see?"

"It's not finished yet," you say, making a mental note to kill Kimi later. "She wants to add glitter."

"Of course she does," George laughs. "Speaking of Amelia, I found this great book about space and racing. Thought she might like it for her school project. I can bring it by later when we go over the quali strategy?"

"Quali strategy," Kimi mouths behind George's back, making kissy faces. You resist the urge to throw your pen at him.

"That would be nice," you say, trying to maintain professionalism despite Kimi's antics. "Thanks, George."

After George leaves, Kimi leans back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be good with numbers, you're really bad at calculating how totally in love with you he is."

"Don't you have some sim work to do?" you ask, but there's no bite to it.

"Fine, fine," he sighs dramatically, standing up. "But tell Amelia her baby driver misses her and needs more good luck drawings. And tell her that her future dad is doing great in practice-"

"OUT!" you laugh, pushing him toward the door.

"Love you too, Team Mom!" he calls over his shoulder.

As you turn back to your work, you can't help but smile. Between Amelia's enthusiasm, Kimi's teasing, and George's... everything, your life has become wonderfully complicated.

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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 82,478 others

yourinstagram Couldn't be prouder of these two! P1 for George and first ever podium for our baby driver. Special thank you to a certain 5-year-old whose lucky drawings (and very specific corner-by-corner instructions) clearly did the trick! 💫

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username1 COME ONNNN

kimi.antonelli BESTIE YOUR DAUGHTER IS MAGIC!! her rocket drawings made me faster, i have proof 🚀

georgerussell63 The fairy wings definitely gave us extra downforce today! Thanks chief engineer in training!

mercedesamgf1 Proof that rocket drawings = extra speed

alex_albon Need to know more about these magic drawings tbh 👀

username2 okay but can we talk about how george keeps amelia's drawings in his driver room?? proud dad energy??

username3 MY SON'S FIRST PODIUM 😭 and him immediately showing yn's daughter the trophy i'm deceased

username4 not me crying over kimi calling yn "team mom" and showing off his trophy like a kid who got an A+ 🥺

username5 the cutest f1 family doesn't exi-

username6 LIVING for george and yn trying to pretend they're not basically dating and co-parenting at this point

username7 george russell handsome successful f1 driver who keeps a 5 year old's drawings for good luck?? my heart can't take this

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The Silverstone paddock is buzzing with its usual race day energy, but today feels different. Your parents arrived with Amelia an hour ago, and watching your daughter take in the F1 world for the first time is making you see everything through new eyes.

"And this is where all the computers are," you explain, showing her around the garage. She's wearing her special Mercedes outfit, a miniature team kit that appeared mysteriously in your flat last week (you suspect George), complete with her own headset and passes.

"It's like a spaceship!" she whispers in awe, clutching your hand. "Is this where you make George and Kimi go fast?"

Before you can answer, a familiar voice calls out, "BESTIE!"

Amelia whirls around to see Kimi bounding toward her, already in his race suit. "Baby driver!" she squeals, running to hug him.

Kimi scoops her up, spinning her around. "Finally! I've been waiting forever to see you! Your drawings give me good luck, you know."

"Really?" Amelia beams. "I made you a new one for today! Mummy, can I show him?"

You pull the carefully protected drawing from your bag. Kimi and George's cars racing with what appears to be rockets attached to them. Kimi examines it with exaggerated seriousness.

"This is perfect! The rockets are exactly what we need," he declares. "Should we go put it up in my driver room?"

Amelia looks at you questioningly. "Can I go with Kimi, Mummy?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Grandma and Grandpa can go too." You turn to your parents, who are watching the scene with amused smiles. "I need to check some things before the race."

"Come on, bestie," Kimi says, still holding Amelia. "I'll show you where I keep all your other drawings. They're my lucky charms!"

As they head off, Amelia chattering excitedly about her rocket design theories, you hear your mother say to your father, "Did you ever think our granddaughter would have a Formula 1 driver as her best friend?"

You're reviewing last-minute strategy changes when George arrives, looking sharp in his race suit but slightly nervous.

"Is she here?" he asks, peering around the garage.

"Kimi kidnapped her," you laugh. "Something about lucky charm drawings."

George's face falls slightly. "Oh. I, uh, I got her something. For her first race." He pulls out a small package wrapped in silver paper.

"George..." you start, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"GEORGE!" Amelia's voice echoes through the garage as she runs back in, Kimi following with a grin. She launches herself at George, who catches her easily.

"Hello, trouble," he says warmly. "Ready for your first race?"

"Kimi showed me his room! And all my drawings are on the wall! And he has a special chair that spins around and around and-"

"Breathe, love," you remind her, sharing an amused look with George.

"I have something for you," George tells her, setting her down and handing her the package. "Every proper race engineer needs one of these."

Amelia carefully unwraps it to reveal a personalized notebook with "AMELIA - Race Engineer in Training" embossed on the cover, along with the Mercedes logo.

"It's just like Mummy's!" she gasps, running her fingers over the lettering.

"Look inside," George encourages.

She opens it to find the first page filled with messages - one from George, one from Kimi, and to your surprise, messages from Lewis Hamilton, Toto, and the entire engineering team.

"Now you can take notes during the race," George explains. "Study all our moves so you can tell us what we did wrong later."

Amelia hugs the notebook to her chest, then throws her arms around George's neck. "Thank you! I'm going to write down everything! Even when you make mistakes!"

"Especially when he makes mistakes," Kimi adds with a wink.

The pre-race preparations fly by, and before you know it, it's almost time for the drivers to head to the grid. Your parents have taken Amelia to their seats in the garage, where she's already making serious notes in her new notebook.

"Right," Kimi says, giving Amelia a high five. "I've got my lucky drawing, so P1 is basically guaranteed."

"No way," George argues playfully. "My drawing has more glitter. That's worth at least half a second per lap."

As they head out, you hear Amelia ask your mother, "Grandma, why does George look at Mummy the same way Prince Charming looks at Cinderella?"

You feel your face heat up as Kimi bursts out laughing and George nearly trips over his own feet.

The race itself is intense. Through it all, you can hear Amelia's running commentary behind you:

"Mummy told George to go faster and he did!" "The red car is being silly, Mummy make them move!" "Baby driver is catching up!"

And even though the race itself didn't bring good results for the team, the smile on George's face when he hugged you and Amelia after the race could probably light up London after dark.

Hours later, you're packing up your things in the engineering room after a long day of post-Silverstone analysis when George appears in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically nervous. He's changed out of his team gear into casual clothes, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Hey," he says, lingering in the doorway. "Good day?"

"Yeah, just finishing up the race report," you nod, trying not to notice how good he looks in that light blue jumper. "You?"

"Same, all done with media." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Listen, I was wondering... would you like to get dinner?"

"Oh," you say, checking your watch. "I should probably get home soon. It's Amelia's bedtime and-"

"I meant just you and me," he interrupts softly. "Like... a date."

You freeze in the middle of putting your laptop away, your heart suddenly racing. "Oh," you say again, eloquently.

"I know this great place in Mayfair," he continues quickly, as if afraid you'll say no if he doesn't get all the words out. "And I already talked to your mum, she said she'd love to watch Amelia for the evening. If you want to, that is. No pressure at all, I just thought... well, after everything, and Silverstone was amazing, and you're amazing, and-"

"George," you cut off his rambling with a smile. "Are you asking me on a proper date?"

He runs a hand through his hair, that endearing nervous gesture you've come to love. "Yes. Very badly, apparently."

"You talked to my mum?" you ask, amused and touched.

"Well, yeah," he admits, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "She cornered me after the race actually. Said something about being tired of watching us dance around each other and that she'd happily babysit any time."

You laugh, remembering your mother's knowing looks throughout the race weekend. "Did my five-year-old and my mother conspire to set us up?"

"Don't forget Kimi," George grins. "He's been sending me links to romantic restaurants for weeks. And threatening to tell Amelia all my embarrassing stories if I didn't, and I quote, 'get my act together.'"

"Sounds like we've been thoroughly outmaneuvered," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full.

"So..." George takes a step closer, hope written all over his face. "Is that a yes?"

You pretend to think about it. "Well, since you've already gotten approval from my entire family, including my self-appointed eighteen-year-old son..."

"YN," he groans, but he's smiling.

"Yes," you say softly. "I'd love to have dinner with just you."

His face breaks into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your stomach flip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He takes another step closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "I've been wanting to ask you for ages," he admits. "Since Barcelona, really. Well, since before that if I'm honest."

"What took you so long?" you ask, even though your heart is hammering so hard you can barely hear your own words.

"I wanted to do it right," he says. "Make sure Amelia was okay with it, that you were ready. That I wasn't misreading things." He pauses. "Also, Kimi told me I had to wait until after Silverstone because he had money on me asking you out this week."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Of course he did."

"So," George says, taking your hand. "Tonight? I can pick you up at eight?"

"Seven sounds perfect."

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a text from your mother:

Mum: Amelia and I are having a girls' night! Don't worry about bedtime, we've got it covered. Have fun on your date! 😘

George peers at your phone and laughs. "I think we've been set up by the most elaborate matchmaking scheme in F1 history."

"Seems like it," you agree, squeezing his hand. "Better make it worth their effort then."

His eyes soften as he looks at you. "I plan to."

As you walk out of the engineering room hand in hand, you can't help but smile at how perfectly everything has fallen into place. Your daughter adores him, your family approves, and even your teenage driver-turned-matchmaker is thrilled.

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liked by yourintagram, lando and 601,287 others

georgerussell63 Not the Silverstone weekend we wanted on track, but having this little engineer-in-training in our garage made everything better. Thanks for the lucky drawings Amelia - we'll get them right next time! P.S. Your detailed notes about my "silly mistake in turn 3" were very professional 😅

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username1 AHH THIS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER I CANT

username2 GEORGE SOFT ERA

kimi.antonelli she told me your mistakes too 😎 bestie keeps it real

lando mate she really wrote "george needs to drive more zoomy" in her notebook i'm crying

mercedesamgf1 Our newest team member giving very thorough feedback! 📝

yourinstagram She's already planning your strategy for Spa. Apparently it involves fairy dust and "extra zoom buttons"

username4 the way george claimed both yn and amelia is just to cute

username5 WE STAN AMELIA

username6 not to sound weird but you can tell that george ADORES both of them

username7 THIS IS MY FAMILY

liked by username1, username2 and 12,095 other

f1gossip BREAKING: Mercedes driver George Russell and chief race engineer YN spotted having dinner together at exclusive Mayfair restaurant. First time the two have been seen together outside of work events. 👀

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username1 HELLO??? THIS IS NOT A DRILL?? look at the way he's looking at her omg

username2 someone write this romance novel immediately

username3 not me zooming in on every detail 👀 THE HAND ON THE TABLE NEARLY TOUCHING HERS I'M SCREAMING

username4 not to be That Person but the way he's always so sweet with her daughter?? and now this?? im crying in the club rn

username5 don't be weird about this

username6 someone check on kimi, bet he's having a proud son moment watching his team parents finally get together

username7 manifesting the cutest f1 family rn 🕯️🕯️🕯️

username8 GEORGE RUSSELL BOYFRIEND ERA STARTS NOW

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It's well past Amelia's bedtime when you unlock your front door, cheeks still flushed from the perfect evening, and the goodnight kiss that made you feel like a teenager again. You expect to find your mother reading on the couch, but instead, you hear small feet padding down the hallway.

"Mummy!" Amelia appears in her pink princess pajamas, clearly having fought off sleep to wait for you. "You're home!"

"Sweetheart, why aren't you in bed?" you ask, though you can't bring yourself to be stern when she looks so excited.

Your mother appears behind her, looking apologetic. "Someone insisted on staying up until you got back. Said she needed to make sure the date went well."

"Did you have nice dinner?" Amelia asks, taking your hand and pulling you to the couch. "Did George tell you funny stories? Did he make you laugh? Sophie says her mummy went on a date and didn't laugh at all and never saw the man again."

You catch your mother trying to hide her smile as she disappears into the kitchen, clearly giving you space for this conversation.

"Yes, we had a lovely dinner," you say, settling onto the couch. Amelia immediately climbs into your lap, her favorite spot for important conversations. "And yes, George made me laugh a lot."

"Good," she says seriously. "Because you have a pretty laugh, Mummy."

Your heart catches at her observation. Sometimes you forget how perceptive she is.

"Did you wear your sparkly dress?" she continues, playing with your necklace - the delicate silver one George had noticed and complimented over dinner.

"I did."

"George likes sparkly things," she nods sagely. "He always says my glitter drawings are his favorite."

You smile, remembering how George had shown you a whole folder on his phone of photos of Amelia's artwork. "He does love your drawings."

"Mummy?" Amelia looks up at you, her expression suddenly serious. "Are you happy?"

"What do you mean, love?"

"When George is around, you smile different," she explains. "Like when we have ice cream on Sunday or when I learn a new word. It's your happy smile." She pauses, thinking hard.

You pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her curls. "You're right. George does make me very happy."

"Good," she declares. "Because he makes me happy too. And he helps me with maths. And he remembers what I like. And he makes baby driver behave." She counts off these qualities on her small fingers.

"Does he now?" you laugh.

"Mhm. Today when you were getting ready, he called to tell me a bedtime story about racing cars while Grandma did my hair. But then I had to promise not to tell you because it was supposed to be a surprise that he called."

Your heart melts at this revelation. You hadn't known about the bedtime story.

"And Mummy?" she continues, fighting back a yawn. "I think George has a happy smile when he sees you too. Like when you wear your sparkly dress or when you tell him he did good racing."

"Did well racing," you correct automatically, making her giggle.

"Did well racing," she repeats. "So can we see him again soon? Maybe for pancakes? He promised to show me how to make them in funny shapes."

"Did he now?"

She nods enthusiastically. "He said he can make race car pancakes! And he said maybe next time we can both come to dinner with him, and he knows a place that has the best chocolate cake ever."

"We'll see," you say, but you're already smiling at the thought. "But right now, little miss, it's way past your bedtime."

"One more question?" she pleads, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

"One more."

"If George makes us both happy, and we make him happy, and he makes good pancakes..." she thinks carefully about her words, "does that mean he can stay? Properly stay?"

Your throat tightens with emotion. "Oh, sweetheart..."

"Because I think we should keep him," she says matter-of-factly. "He fits good with us. Like my puzzle pieces when they click together right."

"Fits well," you correct softly, blinking back tears.

"Fits well," she agrees, snuggling closer. "So can we keep him? He remembers everything. That's important, Mummy. Mrs. Thompson says remembering things about people you love is very important."

"When did you get so wise?" you ask, hugging her close.

"I learned it from you," she says simply. "And George says I'm smart like my mummy. I think we should definitely keep him."

Looking at your daughter's hopeful face, thinking about the perfect evening and how naturally he fits into your lives, you find yourself agreeing.

"Yeah," you say softly. "I think we should."

"Good," Amelia yawns, finally letting sleep catch up with her. "Because he makes everything better. Like sprinkles on ice cream."

As you carry your sleepy daughter to bed, she mumbles, "Mummy? I'm happy you're happy."

You tuck her in, your heart so full it might burst. "I'm happy you're happy too, love."

"Tell George I said goodnight," she murmurs, already drifting off. "And that he better not forget about the pancakes..."

Looking at your sleeping daughter, thinking about George's words, you realize that sometimes the best families are the ones you build yourself, piece by perfectly fitting piece.

You fall asleep that night with a smile on your face, dreaming of race car pancakes, perfect puzzle pieces, and the way happiness feels when it finally clicks into place.

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The summer heat has turned your London flat into a lazy afternoon paradise. You're in the kitchen preparing cold lemonade while Amelia sits at the counter, tongue stuck out in concentration as she works on her latest masterpiece - a drawing of what she claims is Kimi's car with rocket boosters.

"Mummy, do you think baby driver will like the purple rockets?" she asks, reaching for another crayon.

"I think he'll love them," you assure her, just as there's a knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" Amelia scrambles off her stool before you can stop her.

"Amelia, wait-" but she's already running to the door.

"Who is it?" she calls out, following your safety rules.

"It's George!" comes the familiar voice, and Amelia beams at you.

"Can I open it, Mummy? Please?"

You nod, and she throws the door open to reveal George standing there in casual clothes, looking unfairly handsome in a simple white t-shirt and jeans.

"George!" Amelia launches herself at him, and he catches her with practiced ease. "Are you here to see my new drawings? I made one for baby driver with rockets!"

"Of course I am," he grins, carrying her inside. His eyes meet yours over her head, soft and warm. "Hi."

"Hi," you reply, trying to control your smile. "This is a surprise."

"Good surprise?" he asks, setting Amelia down.

"Look!" Amelia interrupts, grabbing his hand and pulling him to her artwork. "See? Purple rockets!"

"Very aerodynamic," George nods seriously, examining the drawing. "Though I think the Mercedes might need some rockets too, don't you?"

While Amelia launches into an elaborate explanation of her rocket distribution strategy, George catches your eye again, mouthing 'kitchen?' with a raised eyebrow.

"I'll get you some lemonade," you say, heading to the kitchen. Moments later, you hear him tell Amelia he'll be right back to help her with the Mercedes rockets.

As soon as he enters the kitchen, he's in your space, hands settling on your waist. "Hi," he says again, softer this time.

"You said that already," you tease, even as your heart races.

"Didn't get to say it properly though," he murmurs, leaning down. "Been thinking about doing this all week..."

His lips meet yours in a gentle kiss that makes your knees weak. You wind your arms around his neck, melting into it as he pulls you closer-

"Mummy? George? What are you doing?"

You jump apart like teenagers caught by their parents. Amelia stands in the doorway, head tilted in confusion, her purple crayon forgotten in her hand.

"We were just..." you start, face burning.

"Were you kissing?" she asks directly, making you both flush deeper.

"Um," George runs a hand through his hair nervously. "Yes?"

Amelia considers this for a moment. "Oh. Like in the princess movies?"

"Something like that," you manage, wondering how to handle this situation.

"Okay," she says simply. Then, "Can I have more lemonade?"

You blink at the sudden change of subject. "Of course, love."

As you pour her drink, she looks between you and George thoughtfully. "Does this mean George is your boyfriend now?"

George makes a choking sound beside you, and you nearly spill the lemonade.

"Well..." you look at George, who seems equally unsure how to answer.

"Because Sophie from school says when people kiss they're boyfriend and girlfriend," Amelia continues matter-of-factly. "And you smile a lot when George is here. And he brings me drawings from baby driver. And he remembers I like the blue cup not the red one."

She says all this while George hands her the correct blue cup, proving her point.

"Would that be okay?" George asks carefully. "If I was your mummy's boyfriend?"

Amelia takes a long sip of lemonade, clearly thinking it over. "Will you still help me with my drawings?"

"Of course."

"And tell me racing stories?"

"Absolutely."

"And you won't make Mummy sad?"

Your heart clenches at that, and you see George swallow hard.

"I promise," he says softly, "I will try my very best to only make your mummy smile."

Amelia nods, apparently satisfied. "Okay then. Can we do the rockets for your car now?"

"Lead the way, boss," George says, shooting you a relieved smile.

As Amelia skips back to her drawings, George quickly squeezes your hand. "That went better than expected?"

"Yeah," you breathe out. "Though we might want to be more careful with the kitchen kisses."

He grins, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. "Noted. Though I can't promise I won't want to kiss you every time I see you."

"George!" Amelia calls. "The rockets won't draw themselves!"

"Coming!" he calls back, then quickly steals one more kiss. "For the road."

You watch him join Amelia at the counter, the way he listens intently to her explanation of rocket physics (mostly gathered from cartoons), and feel your heart swell. It's early days still, but watching them together, you can't help but hope this is just the beginning of something wonderful.

"Mummy!" Amelia waves you over. "George says we need strategy for the rockets. That's your job!"

"Can't argue with that," you laugh, joining them at the counter.

As evening settles in, you find George and Amelia sprawled on the living room floor, surrounded by LEGO pieces. The instructions for her new F1 car set lie forgotten as George helps her create what appears to be a highly modified version.

"See, if we put this piece here," George explains, "it makes the perfect spot for your rocket boosters."

"Can we make the wheels rainbow colored?" Amelia asks through a yawn.

"Of course we- did you just yawn?" George teases, poking her side gently.

"No," she protests, even as another yawn escapes. "M'not tired."

"Really?" you ask from your spot on the couch. "Because it looks like someone's about to fall asleep in her LEGOs."

"But George hasn't finished helping me," she whines softly, rubbing her eyes.

George catches your eye, silently asking permission. At your nod, he says, "How about I help you get ready for bed, and tomorrow you can finish the car?"

Amelia perks up slightly. "Promise you'll come back tomorrow?"

"Actually, sweetheart," he says carefully, "I have to go to Monaco for a few days. But I'll be back for your birthday next week."

Her lower lip trembles slightly. "You won't miss my party?"

"Miss your sixth birthday party? No way," he assures her. "I've already got your present picked out and everything."

"Really?" she asks sleepily.

"Really. Now, bedtime?"

She holds up her arms. "Will you carry me like when I fell asleep at the factory?"

George scoops her up easily, and your heart melts as she immediately snuggles into his shoulder. "Story?" she mumbles.

"One story," you say, following them to her room.

You watch from the doorway as George helps her into her pajamas and tucks her in, making sure her favorite stuffed car is properly positioned.

"Can you tell me about Monaco?" she asks as he sits on the edge of her bed. "Since that's where you're going?"

"Well," he starts, smoothing her hair back, "Monaco is like a magical kingdom by the sea. The buildings are all white and shiny, and the race track goes right through the city..."

You listen as he weaves a story about princesses who race cars and dolphins who watch from the harbor. By the time he's describing the tunnel section, Amelia's eyes are fluttering closed.

"G'night George," she mumbles. "Love you."

George's hand stills in her hair for a moment, and you see the emotion cross his face. "Goodnight, princess," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sweet dreams."

He joins you in the doorway, both of you watching as she snuggles deeper into her blankets.

"You okay?" you ask softly, noting his expression.

He nods, leading you back to the living room. Once you're out of earshot, he pulls you close, burying his face in your hair.

"She said she loves me," he murmurs.

"She does," you confirm, wrapping your arms around him. "You've become very important to her."

He pulls back enough to look at you, his eyes intense. "You know you both are important to me too, right? I know we haven't been dating long, but..."

"I know," you assure him, reaching up to touch his cheek. "We know."

He leans into your touch. "I hate that I have to go to Monaco."

"It's only for a few days," you remind him. "And it's part of the job."

"Yeah," he sighs, pulling you toward the couch. You curl into his side automatically. "I just... I'll miss this. Miss you both."

"We'll miss you too," you admit. "But you'll be back for the party. Speaking of which, what exactly have you got planned? Amelia's been trying to guess all week."

His face lights up. "Ah, that's classified information. But I think she'll love it."

"George..."

"Don't worry," he laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Nothing too extravagant. Well, maybe a little extravagant. But she's only turning six once!"

You shake your head fondly. "You're going to spoil her rotten."

"That's my job, isn't it?" he asks, then seems to catch himself. "I mean, not my job, but... you know what I mean."

"I do," you say softly, understanding the weight of what he's not saying. It's early days still, but you both know this is heading somewhere serious.

He pulls you closer, and you sit in comfortable silence for a while, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

"When do you leave?" you ask eventually.

"Early tomorrow," he sighs. "Need to be there for some sponsorship events."

"Then we should probably clean up these LEGOs before someone steps on one in the morning."

He groans dramatically but helps you up. As you both kneel to collect the scattered pieces, he keeps stealing glances at you.

"What?" you ask after the third time you catch him looking.

"Nothing," he smiles. "Just... thank you."

"For what?"

"For letting me be part of this," he gestures around the flat, at Amelia's drawings on the fridge, the LEGOs, the life you've built. "For trusting me with her. With both of you."

Your heart swells. "Thank you for wanting to be part of it."

He reaches for you then, LEGOs forgotten as he pulls you into a soft kiss. It's different from the heated kitchen kiss earlier - slower, deeper, full of everything neither of you are quite ready to say out loud.

When you break apart, he rests his forehead against yours. "I should go," he whispers. "Early flight."

"Okay," you murmur, stealing one more kiss.

At the door, he turns back. "Tell Amelia I'll FaceTime her from Monaco? And maybe..." he hesitates, "maybe we could FaceTime too? After she's in bed?"

"I'd like that," you smile.

"And you'll text me if you need anything? Or if she does?"

"George," you laugh softly, "it's three days."

"I know, I know," he runs a hand through his hair. "I just... I got used to seeing you both every day. This is different."

"We'll be fine," you assure him. "Just come back in time for the party. Can't disappoint your biggest fan."

His expression softens. "Never." He kisses you one last time, gentle and sweet. "Sweet dreams, beautiful."

Later, checking on Amelia before bed, you find she's kicked off her blankets as usual. As you tuck her back in, she stirs slightly.

"Mummy?" she mumbles. "Is George gone?"

"Yes, love. But he'll be back soon."

"Good," she sighs, already drifting back to sleep. "He gives good hugs. And he makes you smile the proper way."

Looking at your sleeping daughter, thinking of George's gentle ways with her, his careful consideration of her feelings, the way he's slotted so perfectly into your lives, you can't help but smile "the proper way."

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liked by username1, username2 and 17,984 others

f1gossip George Russell pulled up to a Mercedes event in Monaco… and brought a model with him 👀

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username1 OHHHHH

username2 what about yn...

username3 THEY LOOK SO GOOD

username4 george single era is coming

username5 this is why i told y'all not to be weair about him and he merc strategist

username6 NOOO HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WITH YN

username7 yn and amelia are literally right there

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The flat feels quiet without Amelia's laughter echoing through it. Your mother had taken her for a girls afternoon, and you stayed back home doing some chores. A certain British driver's smile coming to your mind as you move through the house.

You're curled up on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone when they appear, photos that make your heart stop. George at some glamorous Monaco event, looking devastatingly handsome in his tailored suit. But it's not his appearance that makes your stomach churn, it's the stunning model on his arm.

They look perfect together - like something out of a magazine spread. The kind of couple that belongs at these events.

Your phone rings, making you snap out of it. Kimi's name appearing on screen. For a moment, you consider letting it go to voicemail, but he'd only keep calling.

"Hey," you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Finally," he grumbles. "Been trying to figure out what to get the little monster for her birthday. Does she still like those unicorn games?"

"Yeah, she does."

"That's enthusiastic," he says sarcastically. "What about- hang on. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Don't bullshit me, YN. I've known you too long. You're my team mum."

You sink deeper into the couch, pulling a throw pillow to your chest. "I'm fine."

"You sound like when George beat you at Mario Kart and you pretended it didn't bother you for two weeks."

"That was different," you protest weakly. "He cheated."

"Stop deflecting. What happened?"

You're quiet for a long moment, then, "Have you checked social media today?"

There's rustling, then typing. A long pause. "Ah, fuck."

"Yeah."

"YN..."

"Don't," you cut him off, voice thick. "Don't try to explain it away. I get it. She's gorgeous and sophisticated and probably knows all about sponsorship events and doesn't have a complicated life with a six-year-old and-"

"Stop," Kimi interrupts firmly. "First, you're spiraling. Second, you know these events are bullshit. Remember when they tried to set me up with that Instagram model?"

"This is different."

"How?"

"They look..." you swallow hard, "right together. Like they fit. Like they make sense."

"And you and George don't make sense?" Kimi asks skeptically. "Because from where I'm standing, you fit better than most things in this ridiculous sport. Like Amelia says, puzzle pieces."

"I thought..." your voice cracks. "I really thought maybe this time would be different. That maybe..."

"Have you talked to him?"

"No."

"YN..."

"I can't," you whisper, tears finally falling. "I can't hear him say that this was fun but he's found someone more suitable or-"

"Now you're being stupid," Kimi cuts in. "George isn't like that. You know he's not."

"Do I? Because I thought Amelia's father wasn't like that either, and look how that turned out."

There's a long pause. When Kimi speaks again, his voice is gentler. "George isn't him. You know that."

"I can't risk it," you say softly. "I can't risk Amelia getting hurt. I can't have her wait by the window, hoping he'd come back."

"And that's exactly why you should talk to George," Kimi insists. "Because he's not the kind of man who makes little girls wait by windows."

"But what if he is?" Your voice is barely audible. "What if I let her love him and then..."

"Then you'll deal with it. But you can't protect her from everything, YN. And maybe you're protecting her from something beautiful."

You wipe your eyes. "When did you get so wise? Why am I taking advice from my 18-year-old work son."

"I've always been wise. You just never listen." His tone turns serious again. "Have you checked your phone? Has he tried to contact you?"

You glance at your notifications - nothing from George. The realization makes your chest ache. "No."

"Give it time. There's probably an explanation."

"Yeah," you say hollowly. "The explanation is probably five-foot-ten with perfect hair and no emotional baggage."

"YN..."

"I should go," you cut in. "Amelia will be home soon and I can't... I can't let her see me like this."

"You don't have to handle everything alone, you know."

"Yes, I do," you say quietly. "That's what being a single mother means."

Before he can respond, you hear keys in the door. "They're back. I have to go."

"YN, wait-"

You hang up just as Amelia bursts in, already talking excitedly about her day with grandma.

"And then we saw the biggest dog ever and- Mummy?" she stops suddenly, looking at you with those too-perceptive eyes. "Are you sad?"

"No, love," you force a smile, quickly wiping your face. "Just tired."

She climbs onto the couch next to you, her small hand reaching up to touch your cheek where a tear had fallen. "You look sad though."

Your heart clenches. This is exactly what you were afraid of - her picking up on your pain, carrying it. You won't do that to her.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," you say, pulling her close. "Tell me more about your day with grandma."

"Well..." she starts, but then pauses. "When is George coming back? He promised to help me finish my LEGO car."

The innocent question feels like a knife to your heart. "He's very busy with work right now, love."

"But he'll be back for my party, right? He promised."

You hold her tighter, breathing in her familiar sweet scent, trying to find the right words that won't hurt her. "Sometimes... sometimes grown-ups have to change their plans."

"Oh," she says quietly, and you can hear the beginning of disappointment in her voice. It makes you want to cry all over again.

Looking down at Amelia, at her tiny fingers playing with the bracelet George gave her, you think maybe some risks aren't worth taking. You won't let her build hopes around someone only to watch them crumble.

Better to step back now, before she gets even more attached. Before those goodnight calls and LEGO sessions and racing stories become something she can't live without. Before George becomes a person she waits by windows for.

Even if it means breaking your own heart in the process.

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The soft knock at your door comes just after ten. You knew he'd come, George Russell isn't the type to let something go, especially not this. Still, your hands shake as you open the door.

He looks exhausted, still in his travel clothes, hair messy like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. The moment he sees you, his face crumples with relief.

"YN," he breathes, stepping forward, but you move back.

"You shouldn't be here," your voice is barely a whisper, conscious of Amelia sleeping down the hall.

"Where else would I be?" He stays in the doorway, respecting your space even as his eyes plead with you. "Please, just talk to me. What happened? What changed?"

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold it together. "I saw the photos."

"The- oh god, the event photos?" His eyes widen. "YN, that wasn't- it was just PR. Mercedes arranged it, I should have told you but I didn't think-"

"It's not about the photos," you cut in, though your heart clenches remembering them. "It's about what they made me realize."

"Which is?"

"That this isn't fair. To any of us. But especially not to Amelia."

His face falls. "What are you talking about?"

You glance down the hallway, making sure her door is still closed, then move further into the living room. George follows, closing the front door softly.

"She never met her father," you say quietly. "He left when I told him I was pregnant. Said he wasn't ready for a family, for responsibility. Last I heard he was in Australia somewhere."

"YN..."

"She used to ask about him," you continue, voice thick. "When she was younger. Why didn't she have a daddy like other kids? Was it because she wasn't good enough? Did she do something wrong?"

"She was just a baby," George says softly. "It wasn't her fault."

"No, it wasn't. It was mine. For letting someone into her life who could hurt her." You look at him directly. "I won't make that mistake again."

"I'm not him," George steps closer. "I would never-"

"You can't promise that," you cut in. "You can't promise you won't wake up one day and realize this is all too much. The responsibility, the complications, the fact that you're barely twenty-seven and suddenly playing father figure to a five-year-old."

"I'm not playing at anything," he says fiercely. "I love her. I love you both."

"Now you do. But what about in six months? A year? When the novelty wears off and you realize you could have someone without all this baggage?"

"Is that what you think this is?" He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "That you're some kind of novelty? That Amelia is baggage?"

"I think you're young and successful and have your whole life ahead of you. And I think one day you'll realize that life could be a lot simpler without us in it."

"You don't get to decide that," he says, voice rising slightly before he catches himself, lowering it again. "You don't get to decide what I want or how I feel."

"I get to decide what's best for my daughter."

"And you think pushing away someone who loves her is what's best?"

"I think..." your voice cracks. "I think protecting her from another heartbreak is what's best. You should have seen her face yesterday, when she thought you might miss her party. The way her whole world dimmed, just at the possibility. I can't... I can't watch her go through that for real."

"Then it's a good thing she won't have to," he steps closer again. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't promise that."

"Yes, I can." He reaches for your hand but you pull back. "YN, please. Look at me."

You shake your head, tears falling now. "I can't risk it. The way she looks at you... she trusts you completely. She loves you so much already."

"And I love her," he insists. "More than I ever thought possible. Do you know what I keep in my wallet? That drawing she did of us, where she put all three of us together and wrote 'my family' at the top. I look at it every day. It's not some game to me."

"George..."

"No, listen to me. I know you're scared. I know you're trying to protect her. But pushing me away isn't the answer. Let me prove to you that I'm not going anywhere."

From down the hall comes a small voice: "Mummy?"

You both freeze as Amelia appears, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The moment she sees George, her whole face lights up.

"George!" she runs to him and he catches her automatically, lifting her up. "You came back!"

The way she clings to him, the natural way he holds her, the absolute trust in her eyes - it makes your heart ache.

"Of course I came back, princess," he says softly, but his eyes are on you. "I'll always come back."

"Promise?" she asks, already drifting back to sleep against his shoulder.

"Promise," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair.

You watch them, your chest tight with love and fear and possibility. "I should put her back to bed."

"Let me?" he asks quietly. When you hesitate, he adds, "Please?"

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat.

You follow them to her room, watching as he tucks her in with practiced ease, making sure her favorite stuffed car is properly positioned.

"G'night George," she mumbles. "Love you."

"Love you too, princess," he whispers, smoothing her hair back.

Back in the living room, he turns to you. "That's what you're trying to protect her from? Love?"

"I'm trying to protect her from losing it."

"Then stop trying to make her lose it," he says gently. "Stop trying to make us both lose it."

"I'm scared," you admit, voice breaking.

"I know," he steps closer, and this time you don't move away. "But I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you make me."

"She needs stability."

"I know. Let me be that for her. For both of you."

"George..."

"Look at me," he pleads. "Really look at me. Do I look like someone who's going to walk away from this? From her? From you?"

You do look at him - at the sincerity in his eyes, the way he's still oriented toward Amelia's room like he can't help it, the drawing you know is worn at the edges from being taken out of his wallet so often.

"I can't lose you," you whisper. "Either of us."

"Then don't push me away," he reaches for you again, and this time you let him pull you close. "Let me love you both. Let me prove to you that some promises are worth believing in."

And there in the quiet of your flat, with your daughter sleeping peacefully down the hall and George's heart beating steady under your ear, you think maybe he already has.

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liked by georgerussell63, kimi.antonelli and 90,122 others

yourinstagram Six years ago, you made me a mother. Six years of endless love, racing car stories, messy art projects, and the kind of joy I never knew existed before you. You amaze me every single day with your kindness, your intelligence, and your incredible spirit. The way you see the world, the way you love so fearlessly, the way you make everyone around you smile. You're magic, my darling girl. Happy birthday to my little racer, my best friend, my greatest adventure. Here's to many more years of race car pancakes, LEGO building sessions, and hearing you explain aerodynamics to anyone who'll listen (sorry about that, fellow airplane passengers). I love you more than all the checkered flags in the world. ❤️

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username1 THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL

username2 happy birthday to little amelia !

georgerussell63 Happy birthday to the most amazing co-pilot anyone could ask for ❤️ Can't wait to finish that LEGO car with you today, princess. Love you lots x

kimi.antoneli happy birthday little monster. your present will make your mother cry. you're welcome.

carlossainz55 Feliz cumpleaños pequeña! 🎉 Still waiting for that rematch on the simulator!

lando HAPPY BIRTHDAY MELIA!

username3 the entire paddock loves her i'm crying

mercedesamgf1 Happy birthday to our youngest team member!

username4 yn is the best mama ever, doing it on her own too

username5 GEORGE THIS IS YOUR FAMILY

alex_albon Happy birthday Ames! 🎈 Still using those overtaking tips you gave me

username6 george bonus dad ever

username7 I LOVE THIS FAMILY SM

username8 Happy birthday to F1's favorite little princess

username9 george's comment 🥺 he loves them so much

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The house is finally quiet, scattered remnants of the party everywhere - wrapping paper, balloons, the racing track cake that took you hours to perfect. You're gathering paper plates when you hear George's soft footsteps coming from Amelia's room.

"She's finally asleep," he whispers, leaning against the doorframe. "Had to read the racing manual three times, but she's out."

You can't help but smile. "The manual? Really?"

"Her choice," he grins. "Said she needed to dream about proper racing lines."

"Of course she did." You shake your head fondly, continuing to clean up.

"Hey," he catches your hand gently as you pass. "Leave it. Just... sit with me for a bit?"

You hesitate, but nod, letting him lead you to the couch. You both sit, a careful distance between you that feels wrong after how close you've been these past months.

"She had a good day," you say softly, filling the silence.

"The best," he agrees. "Though I think Kimi might have gone overboard with the simulator."

"Might have? She's going to be impossible to get to school now."

George laughs quietly, then sobers. "YN... can we talk? Really talk?"

Your heart speeds up. "About?"

"Everything. Us. What happened this week. What you're afraid of."

You pull your knees up to your chest, making yourself smaller. "George..."

"Please," he says softly. "I need to understand. I need to know how to fix this."

"It's not about fixing," you say, staring at the birthday banner hanging crooked on the wall. "It's about... reality."

"What reality?"

"The reality that you're 27, successful, with your whole life ahead of you. And I'm..." you gesture vaguely, "complicated."

"You think that's how I see you? As complicated?"

"Isn't it true though? I come with so much... stuff. A child, responsibilities, limitations-"

"Stop," he cuts in, turning to face you fully. "Just... stop. You want to know what I see when I look at you both? I see family. I see home. I see the way Amelia's face lights up when she masters a new racing game. I see the way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating on work. I see movie nights and pancake mornings and silly dance parties in the kitchen."

"George..."

"No, let me finish. You think you're some burden I'm carrying? You're not. You're the best part of every day. Both of you. Even when Amelia's giving me detailed critiques of my qualifying laps or when you're stress-cleaning at midnight before a deadline."

You feel tears forming. "But your life would be so much simpler without us."

"Simpler?" he laughs incredulously. "My life before you was empty. Sure, I had racing, but I came home to quiet rooms and takeaway for one. Now? Now I come home to crayon drawings on my fridge and LEGO cars in my shoes and two people who make everything better just by existing."

"But what about your career? The traveling, the events..."

"What about them?"

"I saw those photos, George. That world... it's so different from this one."

"You think I care about that world?" he moves closer. "You think I'd choose fancy parties over helping Amelia build racing tracks in the living room? Over watching you fall asleep during movies? Over this?"

"I don't want to hold you back."

"You don't," he says firmly. "You push me forward. Both of you do. Do you know what Amelia said to me tonight? She said we fit together like puzzle pieces. And she's right."

You wipe your eyes. "She's too smart for her own good."

"She gets that from her mum." He reaches for your hand, and this time you let him take it. "I know you're scared. I know you're trying to protect her. But I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you make me."

"I don't want to make you," you whisper. "That's what terrifies me."

"Why?"

"Because..." your voice breaks. "Because I love you. We both do. And if you leave..."

"I won't."

"You can't promise that."

"Yes, I can," he says fiercely. "I can promise that every single day for the rest of our lives if you'll let me. I can promise that I'll always come home to you both. That I'll always be there for school plays and birthdays and random Tuesday mornings. That I'll love you both more each day than the last."

"George..."

"You know what scared me most this week?" he continues. "Not just the thought of losing my girlfriend. The thought of losing my family. Of not hearing Amelia's bedtime stories or your laugh first thing in the morning. Of not being the person she runs to when she masters a new racing game or you turn to when you've had a hard day."

You're fully crying now. "When did you become so important to us?"

"Probably around the same time you became everything to me." He wipes your tears gently. "I love you, YN. Both of you. The busy mornings and quiet nights and everything in between. The complicated parts and the simple ones. All of it."

"Even when Amelia corrects your driving technique?"

He laughs softly. "Especially then. She's usually right anyway."

You lean into him finally, letting yourself feel the familiar comfort of his arms around you. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."

"I know why you did it," he kisses your hair. "But please don't do it again. Talk to me instead. Let me prove to you that some people stay."

"I'm still scared," you admit.

"That's okay," he says. "We can be scared together. Just don't shut me out."

From down the hall comes a small voice: "Mummy? George?"

You both look up to see Amelia standing there, clutching her stuffed race car.

"What's wrong, princess?" George asks.

"I forgot to say thank you," she says seriously. "For the best birthday ever. And..." she looks between you both. "Are you staying? For real this time?"

George looks at you, letting you take the lead.

Looking at them, at the man who loves your daughter like his own and the little girl who's already given him her whole heart - you make your decision.

"Yes, love," you say softly. "He's staying."

And sitting there, with your daughter asleep between you and George holding you both like he'll never let go, you think maybe it's okay to be scared sometimes. Maybe it's okay to let someone in, to trust that they'll stay, to believe in the kind of love that builds homes in hearts.

Because some puzzles are meant to stay together, even if it takes a six-year-old to show you how the pieces fit.

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georgerussell63 The best kind of Sunday 🚲❤️ From "I can't do it!" to "Watch how fast I can go!" in under an hour. Couldn't be prouder of my favorite co-pilot. Even if we had a few crashes into the bushes (sorry about that, YN). Worth every scrape and tear for that victory smile at the end. Now she wants to know when we can upgrade to a motorized version... Think that's a conversation for another day

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username1 THIS IS SUCH A PROUD DAD MOMENT

username2 he's protecting her from falling while letting her be brave

username3 george russell: world class driver, even better bonus dad

username4 "My favorite co-pilot" I'M NOT OKAY

username5 the way he naturally stepped into being her dad though 🥺

lewishamilton Next generation driver in training! 🙌🏾

lando should we be worried about our jobs?

yourinstagram Love you both, you troublemakers

username6 GEORGE REALLY IS THE FATHER WHO STEPPED UP

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The garage is a flurry of activity, screens displaying data streams and weather patterns while mechanics rush around with last-minute adjustments. You're deep in conversation with Bono about tire strategies when your phone buzzes with Amelia's FaceTime call.

"Hi baby," you answer, trying to keep one eye on the radar. "Ready for the race?"

"I've got ALL my lucky charms!" She holds up an assortment of trinkets, including the Mercedes keychain George gave her. "And Grandpa's watching with me! He says hi but he's pretending to be grumpy."

You hear your father's distinct grunt in the background and laugh. "Tell him I said-"

"Is that my favorite co-pilot?" George appears behind you, still in his race suit, hair messy from the helmet.

"GEORGE!" Amelia practically screams. "I miss you! Are you going to win today? I told everyone at school you would!"

His face softens in that way it only does for her. "Well, now I have to, don't I? Can't disappoint my biggest fan."

"I drew you a new good luck picture! Mummy has it!"

You pull the slightly crumpled paper from your pocket - a detailed drawing of a Mercedes car with "GO GEORGE!" written in wobbly letters.

"It's perfect," he beams. "Just what I needed."

"Mummy says it's going to rain," Amelia says seriously. "Remember what we practiced about wet weather racing?"

"Smooth inputs, gentle throttle, stay off the kerbs," George recites dutifully. "Did I pass the test?"

"Mmhmm. You can race now."

You both laugh at her solemn approval.

"Thanks, princess. Better go get ready now, okay? Watch out for me on the podium."

"Love you George! Love you Mummy!"

"Love you too, baby. Be good for Grandpa."

After you hang up, you notice George hasn't moved, still staring at the spot where Amelia's face had been.

"George? You okay?"

He seems to make a decision, turning to face you fully. "Move in with me."

Your heart stops. "What?"

"Both of you. Move in with me." His eyes are intense, certain. "The summer break is coming up. I've already been looking at furniture for Amelia's room, there's this racing car bed I found that she'd love, and the spare room would be perfect for your home office, and-" he stops, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's fast, but it doesn't feel fast, does it? It feels like we should have done this ages ago."

"George..."

"I hate coming home to an empty house," he continues. "I hate not hearing Amelia's morning chatter or your late-night typing. I hate that my fridge doesn't have her drawings on it, that my shelves don't have your books mixed with my racing magazines. I hate that when I buy groceries, I automatically get things for three people but there's only me there to eat them."

You glance around the garage, but everyone is deliberately focusing elsewhere, giving you privacy in the midst of chaos.

"The house is too big," he says softly. "Too quiet. Too... not you. Not us."

"Are you sure?" your voice barely a whisper. "This is a big step."

"I've never been more sure of anything." He takes your hands. "I want to wake up to Amelia jumping on our bed demanding pancakes. I want to fall asleep watching you work on race strategies. I want to build that LEGO city she's been planning in the spare room she already thinks of as hers. I want... I want everything. With both of you."

A mechanic calls out the five-minute warning.

"You need to go," you say, but don't let go of his hands.

"I need an answer more."

You look at him, this man who loves your daughter like his own, who makes you both feel safe, who wants to build a home with you.

"The racing car bed better be amazing," you whisper.

His face breaks into that brilliant smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You squeeze his hands. "Now go win this race so we can celebrate properly."

He starts to walk away, then turns back. "YN?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you. Both of you. So much."

You smile, feeling something settle in your chest. "We love you too. Now focus on the race, or Amelia will never let you hear the end of it."

"Yes ma'am," he grins, pulling his helmet on.

You watch him walk to the car, your heart full. Outside, the Belgian sky opens up with rain, but for once, you're not worried about the weather.

And as George's car roars to life, as Amelia undoubtedly bounces with excitement on your couch at home (soon to be your old couch in your new home) you think about puzzle pieces and racing car beds and the way love builds itself into something permanent when you're not looking.

The race is about to start, but really, you think, the best part is just beginning.

[triptuckers]

Sleeping Medicine

Summary: Oscar always gets the maximum sleep needed, thanks to his warm and cuddly girlfriend but what happens when you go back to uni?

Song: Thinkin Bout You ‧ Frank Ocean

Taglist: @dtsyoongs

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.2k

MASTERLIST - F1

The hushed hum of the McLaren Technology Centre was a familiar symphony to Oscar Piastri, a backdrop to endless hours of simulation, debriefs, and training.

Yet, no matter how demanding his days, he always returned to a sanctuary where sleep came as naturally as breathing. That sanctuary was you, his unbelievably warm, astonishingly cuddly girlfriend.

You were his human weighted blanket, his personal white noise machine, his ergonomic pillow all rolled into one. Your presence beside him in bed wasn’t just comfort; it was a physical manifestation of peace.

Your arm draped across his chest, the soft rhythm of your breathing, the faint scent of your shampoo – these were the lullabies that lulled Oscar into the deepest, most restorative sleep of his life.

He’d wake most mornings before you, the sunlight filtering through the blinds, casting stripes across your face. He’d lie there, just watching you, the quiet contentment settling deep in his chest.

Your hair splayed across the pillow, a soft exhaled sigh from your lips. Sometimes, he’d gently untangle a strand of hair from your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw, feeling the steady beat of his own heart, grateful for this quiet, uncomplicated peace.

Because of you, Oscar always clocked his maximum eight, sometimes nine, hours. He’d bounce into the MTC each morning, alert and focused, his mind a steel trap, his reflexes sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel.

His engineers often remarked on his consistent energy, his uncanny ability to absorb complex data even after gruelling race weekends.

He just smiled, knowing his secret weapon wasn't some cutting-edge sports science or a special diet, but the soft, warm body curled beside him each night.

But then, the summer break ended. Your university called, pulling you away from the quiet suburban house you shared, back to the bustling campus life, the shared kitchen, and the towering piles of textbooks.

The goodbye had been bittersweet, a lingering hug at the train station, a promise to call every night, to visit whenever possible.

You’d tried to sound strong, to reassure him, but a strange tremor in his hand as he squeezed yours had hinted at something deeper.

The first night alone was a rude awakening. Oscar had tried to replicate the conditions. He’d stolen one of your favourite hoodies from the laundry basket, pulling it close, inhaling its faint, lingering scent.

He’d even tried to arrange the pillows around himself in a way that mimicked your presence. It was futile. The bed felt vast, cold, empty.

He tossed and turned, his mind racing, replaying scenarios from the last race, drafting strategies for the next. The silence of the house, usually a comfort, now felt oppressive, amplifying every tick of the clock.

He finally drifted off sometime after 3 AM, only to wake feeling heavy-lidded and sluggish. The usual morning energy was absent, replaced by a dull ache behind his eyes.

He poured himself a strong coffee, dismissing it as a one-off.

The next few days didn't improve. He was irritable in debriefs, his concentration wavering during simulator sessions.

He found himself hitting the wrong buttons on the steering wheel more than once, his reaction times noticeably slower. His engineers, typically stoic, exchanged concerned glances.

"Everything alright, Oscar?" his race engineer, Tom, asked after a particularly sloppy sim run where he’d spun out on a virtual Silverstone. "You seem… a bit off your game."

Oscar forced a smile. "Just a bit of jet lag, mate. Long week." He knew it was a lie. He hadn't left the country in days.

Weeks blurred into a hazy succession of sleepless nights and draining days. Oscar tried everything. Blackout blinds transformed his bedroom into a cave.

He meticulously followed a wind-down routine: no screens an hour before bed, a warm bath, herbal tea. He even tried listening to ambient noise tracks – rain sounds, forest sounds – but they only made him miss the soft cadence of your breathing more acutely.

The cumulative sleep deficit began to wreak havoc not only on his performance but on his entire demeanour. He was perpetually tired, a dark smudge under his eyes that no amount of concealer could truly hide.

He’d snap at his trainer for minor things, his usual patience worn thin. The media, ever watchful, started to pick up on it. Whispers circulated about a "sophomore slump," a loss of confidence.

During a Thursday press conference before the Singapore Grand Prix, a journalist, emboldened by the speculative buzz, aimed a direct question.

"Oscar, you've had a strong rookie season, but your recent performances seem to have dipped. Is there a particular issue you're struggling with, perhaps outside the car?"

Oscar felt a flush creep up his neck. He stammered, searching for an answer. "No, not at all. Just… navigating a tough patch. We're working hard internally." Inside, a desperate voice screamed, It's because I can't sleep! She’s not here!

He called you every night, of course. Your voice was a balm, a temporary comfort. But he censored his struggles, always painting a picture of competence and control.

"Yeah, practice was good, just a few tweaks for tomorrow," he’d lie, when in reality he’d nearly binned the car twice. You, however, had a sixth sense. "You sound tired, Oscar. Are you sure you're getting enough rest?" you'd ask, your concern palpable even through the phone line. He’d brush it off, promising to catch up on sleep.

The breaking point arrived after the Japanese Grand Prix. It had been a disaster. He’d qualified poorly, struggled with pace in the race, and finished outside the points, a truly uncharacteristic performance.

Back in his hotel room, the adrenaline of the race slowly draining, he felt a crushing exhaustion like never before. He lay on the crisp, white hotel sheets, staring at the ceiling, the room spinning slightly from fatigue.

He tried to close his eyes, but his mind refused to shut down. Hours passed. The sun began to peek through the curtains, casting a sickly grey light.

"That's it," he muttered to the empty room, pushing himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. He couldn't go on like this.

His career, the very thing he'd dedicated his life to, was suffering. And it all came down to one simple, undeniable fact: he couldn't sleep without you.

He called Mark Webber, his manager, early that morning. Mark, usually calm and composed, listened intently as Oscar, voice cracking, laid bare his predicament. "I… I just can't sleep, Mark. Not properly. Not without her. Everything feels wrong."

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, Mark’s voice, surprisingly gentle. "I understand, mate. It happens. We all have our anchors. What do you need to do?"

"I need to see her," Oscar said, the words a desperate plea. "I need to go to her. Just for a night, or two. Before the next race. I don't care, I just need to sleep."

Mark, ever the pragmatist, was already thinking logistics. "Alright. There's a short break before Qatar. We can get you on a private jet. Tell me where she is."

It felt absurd, flying across a continent just for a good night's sleep. But as the jet touched down in the UK later that week, Oscar felt a flicker of hope he hadn't experienced in weeks.

He grabbed a taxi, clutching a small duffel bag, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

Your university accommodation was an uninspired brick building, row upon row of identical windows. He found your flat number, his throat suddenly dry. He knocked, a soft, tentative rap.

The door swung open, and there you were, a surprised gasp on your lips, a textbook clutched in one hand.

Your eyes widened, then filled with a mixture of disbelief and pure joy. "Oscar? What – what are you doing here?"

Before you could finish the sentence, he pulled you into a desperate hug, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. "I missed you," he mumbled into your hair, the words heavier with unsaid meaning. "I really, really missed you."

Behind you, a figure emerged from the small kitchen area, mug in hand. Your roommate, Chloe, a whirlwind of vibrant hair and sardonic wit.

She stopped dead, her eyes going from your tear-filled eyes to the internationally recognised face of Oscar Piastri.

"Well, well, well," Chloe drawled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or rather, what the Piastri couldn't sleep without."

You pulled back, a blush creeping up your cheeks. "Chloe! This is—"

"Oscar Piastri, yes, I gathered," Chloe interrupted, a smirk playing on her lips. "Welcome to our humble abode, champion. Heard you’ve been having some trouble in the sack." She winked at you.

Oscar, despite his exhaustion, managed a sheepish smile. "Something like that," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

The dorm room was small, certainly not the sprawling master bedroom he was used to. Your single bed looked impossibly tiny.

Chloe's bed was directly opposite yours, separated by a flimsy curtain she sometimes pulled for privacy.

There was a desk overflowing with books, a makeshift wardrobe of hanging clothes, and the distinct scent of instant noodles.

"So," Chloe said, gesturing to your bed, "I gather you're here to... resolve some sleep issues?"

Oscar nodded, his gaze fixed on you. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Oh, no trouble at all, mate," Chloe said, practically vibrating with suppressed amusement. "Always happy to facilitate a good night's rest. Especially when it involves a Formula 1 driver. Just try not to snore too loud, my beauty sleep is precious."

You shot her a warning glare, but a small smile was playing on your lips. You knew how much this meant to him.

Later, after a quick, slightly awkward dinner in the communal kitchen (where Chloe made sure to introduce Oscar to every single person she encountered, much to his chagrin and your mortification), Oscar finally found himself alone with you in your tiny room.

He sat on the edge of your bed, feeling the soft springs, the familiar texture of your duvet. You turned to him, your eyes full of concern. "Oscar, you look absolutely shattered."

He lay down, almost collapsing, pulling you down with him. You curled into him instantly, your body slotting against his as if you were two perfectly shaped puzzle pieces.

Your arm draped over his chest, your head tucked under his chin. He felt the familiar weight of your leg thrown over his. The subtle scent of your skin, the warmth of your body radiating against his, it was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

A profound sigh escaped his lips, a release of weeks of pent-up tension. He felt the rapid beat of his heart begin to slow, the frantic thoughts in his mind gradually quiet.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his body relaxed. He didn't have to try to sleep; it just came. The world outside the small dorm room faded away, replaced by the comforting cocoon of your embrace.

He was asleep before you could even finish whispering, "Good night, love." Deep, utterly peaceful sleep, the kind he hadn't experienced since you left.

You lay awake for a while, just listening to his steady, even breathing, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

It broke your heart that he’d been struggling so much, yet a part of you swelled with a peculiar kind of pride that your presence meant so much to him.

The next morning, the sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Oscar stirred, a slow, languid stretch, before his eyes fluttered open.

He blinked, the room slowly coming into focus, then he turned his head to look at you. You were already watching him, a soft smile on your face.

A genuine, unburdened smile spread across his face, the first one you'd seen in weeks. "Morning," he rasped, his voice rough with sleep. "That was… the best sleep I've had in forever." He pulled you closer, burying his face in your hair. "Thank you. Seriously."

Just then, Chloe's voice cut through the quiet, ridiculously loud from her side of the room, though you hadn't even heard her wake up. "Well, well, well, Sleeping Beauty has awoken!"

She pulled back her flimsy curtain, a wide grin plastered across her face. "Looks like someone finally got their beauty sleep. Did you snore, Oscar? I could have sworn I heard a McLaren engine revving at 4 AM."

You groaned, pulling the duvet over your head, mortified. Oscar chuckled, a genuine, joyful sound that made your heart sing.

"Aw, don't be shy, lovebirds!" Chloe chirped, getting out of bed and stretching. "It's rather sweet, actually. The mighty Formula 1 driver, brought to his knees by a lack of cuddles."

She turned to Oscar, a mock-serious expression on her face. "So, is this going to be a regular thing? You just pop over whenever you need a human sedative?"

Oscar pushed himself up on one elbow, a sheepish grin still on his face. "If it means not crashing out of Q1, then yes, Chloe, it might have to be."

He looked at you, his eyes full of gratitude and a depth of affection that made your stomach flutter. "I really needed this, you know."

He left later that day, visibly re-energised, the dark smudges under his eyes noticeably lighter, his shoulders less hunched.

His team, utterly bewildered but relieved, noticed the immediate change. His performance curve started to climb again, his lap times dropping, his focus sharper than ever.

Chloe, however, never let you forget it. "So, when's your personal teddy bear visiting next?" she'd tease, or "Heard Oscar had a great race. Must be all that extra snuggle time!"

You'd blush, of course, but deep down, you knew she was right. Oscar Piastri, the fiercely independent, ruthlessly competitive F1 driver, needed his warm, cuddly girlfriend more than anyone knew.

And the best part? He wasn't ashamed to admit it anymore. He'd found his unique secret to success, and it was nestled right beside him, heart to heart. . . .

The initial surge of energy Oscar had gained from his secret university visit had been phenomenal. For weeks, he’d felt sharper, more focused, the familiar dark circles replaced by genuine sparkle in his eyes.

His team, utterly mystified but endlessly grateful, had seen the results: consistent points, a podium finish, even a pole position.

Chloe’s teasing had been relentless, a constant reminder of his “human sedative,” but you’d both laughed, knowing how much truth there was in her jests.

But Formula 1 was a demanding mistress, relentless and unforgiving. The jet lag, the constant travel, the media obligations, the intense pressure – it all chipped away at even the most robust constitution.

Slowly, insidiously, the sleep began to elude him again. The dreamless, profound slumber you provided was replaced by fitful tossing and turning, his mind racing with data points and cornering speeds even in the fleeting moments of rest.

The dark smudges returned, deeper this time, a perpetual shadow beneath his blue eyes. His shoulders started to slump, his usual quick wit dulled by a pervasive weariness.

Phone calls became shorter, his voice laced with an exhaustion that tore at your heart. You were still diligently pursuing your degree, buried in textbooks and assignments, but a part of you was always tuned to Oscar, sensing his struggle from thousands of miles away.

You tried everything you could from afar: late-night calls filled with whispered reassurances, sending him comforting playlists, even compiling a "good sleep" care package with lavender oil and a weighted blanket, knowing full well it was a poor substitute for the real thing.

He’d dutifully tried them all, grateful for your efforts, but the fundamental problem remained. He just couldn’t switch off without you.

The tipping point came during a particularly brutal triple-header. Three races in three consecutive weekends, spanning continents. By the third race, in a humid, bustling Asian city, Oscar was running on fumes.

You watched the qualifying session from your dorm room, a knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach. He was quick, undeniably, but there was a ragged edge to his driving, a lack of that fluid precision that defined him at his best.

He qualified P4, a strong result for anyone else, but for Oscar, who was always striving for perfection, it felt like a concession to his fatigue.

You called him that night, your voice soft with concern. He sounded distant, almost hollow. “I just… I can’t sleep, love,” he’d confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “My brain won’t stop. I lie there and I just feel… wired. And then angry that I’m not sleeping. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“I know, Oscar,” you’d murmured, tears pricking your eyes. “I wish I could be there.”

“Me too,” he’d said, and the profound sadness in that simple phrase had shattered your resolve.

The next morning, driven by an impulse you couldn’t ignore, you booked the first available flight. It was reckless, unplanned, and would certainly mean missing lectures and scrambling to catch up on assignments, but you knew, with a certainty that resonated deep in your bones, that you had to go.

He needed you. He was more than a celebrated athlete; he was your Oscar, and he was hurting.

The journey was a blur of cramped airplane seats, stale air, and a frantic race against time. You landed just hours before the race, bypassed your own exhaustion, and navigated the sprawling, security-heavy paddock with a mix of sheer determination and a little help from a sympathetic McLaren team member you’d often chatted with on FaceTime.

You found yourself waiting, heart pounding, outside his driver’s room. The roar of the engines, the electric energy of the crowd, the frantic pace of the pit lane – it was all a cacophony you barely registered. All that mattered was the man inside.

The race itself was a testament to his grit. He fought tooth and nail, pushing the car, and himself, to their absolute limits. He lost a position early but clawed his way back, making daring overtakes, his focus a laser beam despite his underlying fatigue.

In the final laps, a rival suffered an engine issue, elevating Oscar to second place. A podium finish. A fantastic result for the team.

But as the cheers erupted, as the commentators lauded his resilience, you knew. You knew he wasn’t celebrating. He was just tired. Bone-deep, soul-weary tired.

You stood there, your hands balled into fists, watching the telemetry screens, until the race ended.

As the immediate post-race chaos began – the parc fermé, the cool-down room, the media obligations – you saw his engineer, an older, kind man named Mark, direct him away from the immediate media scrum.

Oscar, head down, shoulders noticeably slumping, was guided towards his driver’s room.

This was it.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You’d arranged it with Mark; he would ensure Oscar came directly here.

And then, the door swung open. He stepped in, his racing suit still damp with sweat, his eyes glazed with the fatigue of the race and the emotional turmoil of the last few days.

He saw you, and the shock hit him like a sledgehammer. You raised your hands up to hug him, and for a split second, he froze, as if you were a mirage, a figment of his desperate imagination.

Then, reality crashed over him like a wave, and his eyes lit up with a joy that seemed almost painful in its intensity.

Oscar didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He just moved. His arms snapped around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace. You melted into his touch, feeling the tremble in his muscles, the racing beat of his heart.

He held you so tightly it was almost painful, but you didn’t mind. It was the first time in weeks you’d felt truly safe. The smell of him – the faint hint of sweat and burning rubber and something uniquely Oscar – filled your nose, and you felt your own heart start to slow.

You could feel the tension bleeding out of him, the tightness in his shoulders loosening as he held you closer, as if you were the anchor keeping him tethered to the world.

He buried his face in your hair, and for a moment, you could almost hear him inhale, as if he was trying to suck in every part of you, as if he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

His breath was hot on your neck, and his fingers dug into your back, leaving little half-moons that you knew would fade into nothingness in a matter of minutes.

The silence between you was profound, filled with unspoken words of love and fear and frustration. The only sounds were the distant murmur of the paddock outside and the steady throb of his heart, which seemed to sync with yours.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, but it felt like an eternity. A beautiful, perfect, endless moment where the world didn’t exist, and it was just the two of you, holding on for dear life.

Finally, Oscar’s grip on you loosened, and he leaned back, his eyes searching your face as if he was afraid of what he’d find.

You gave him a gentle smile, the kind that reached your eyes and promised him everything would be okay. “I’m here, Oscar,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

The relief in his expression was palpable. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you reached up and stroked his cheek, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble.

You felt the shiver that ran through him, the way his body responded to your touch. It was like you were speaking a language that didn’t need words, a conversation that was all about comfort and care.

With a gentle nod, he scooped you up into his arms, as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the heat of his body, the solidness of his muscles beneath the fireproof suit.

He carried you to the sofa that was pushed against the far wall of the driver’s room, and you felt the world shift as he laid you down.

The plush cushions enveloped you, and for a moment, you were suspended, floating in the warm embrace of Oscar’s arms.

He sat next to you, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of adrenaline from the race. You leaned into him, pressing your cheek against his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath the layers of fabric.

The room was a blur around you, the only focal point the steady beat that matched your own erratic pulse.

Gently, you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent that was uniquely his – a potent mix of sweat, burning rubber, and Oscar. His skin was warm, the pulse at his throat a comforting metronome to the symphony of his emotions.

His arms tightened around you, one hand moving to stroke your hair, his fingertips tracing the line of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You sighed contentedly, the sound lost against the thunderous applause from the distant grandstands.

Oscar’s eyes searched yours, a question lingering in the depths of his gaze. "You should take a shower," you whispered, your breath a soft caress against his skin, "but I'm letting you off until after."

A smirk played on your lips, the tension in the room shifting from one of painful longing to one of playfulness. The unspoken understanding passed between you, and his expression relaxed, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a hint of amusement.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, resonating through his chest and into yours.

He leaned back, his eyes tracing the contours of your face, the smudged mascara, the flushed cheeks. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, catching the slight tremor there. "Until after what?" he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

You leaned in closer, your breath warming his neck, and whispered, "After I make sure you're relaxed enough to sleep." You felt the tension coil in him, the anticipation thick and palpable.

His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His other hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.

His gaze dropped to your lips, hungrily, as if parched. “Promise?” he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your ear, already tilting his head.

“Promise,” you whispered back, a smile spreading across your face, your own heart quickening in anticipation.

Then his lips were on yours, tentative at first, a soft brush, as if he was still testing the reality of your presence. But then, as you responded, as your own lips parted beneath his, the kiss deepened, instantly.

It was hungry, desperate, a silent conversation of weeks of longing and separation compressed into one explosive moment. His mouth moved over yours with an intensity that bordered on ferocity, a beautiful, overwhelming demand for connection.

You met him with equal fervor, your hands finding purchase on his damp racing suit, gripping the thick fabric, pulling him closer even though there was no space left between you.

The kiss went on, and on, a ceaseless exploration. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, then dipped inside, a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers of pleasure cascading through you.

You tasted the subtle salt of his sweat, the lingering metallic tang of adrenaline, and underneath it all, the familiar, intoxicating taste of him.

His hands left your hair, roaming down your back, pressing you tighter, then slipping under your shirt, his warm fingers splaying against your bare skin. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your throat, absorbed by his lips. Every nerve ending in your body sang.

He broke the kiss for a moment, just long enough to drag in a ragged breath, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed. His chest rose and fell rapidly against yours.

“God, I missed you,” he rasped, the words thick with emotion, a raw confession that tore at your heart.

Then, without waiting for a reply, he found your lips again, the kissing resuming a more frantic pace, as if he worried this moment might vanish.

You kissed him back with everything you had, your hands tangling in his short, damp hair, pulling gently. The world outside the small room faded completely, replaced by the intoxicating sensations of his lips, his hands, the beat of his heart.

The passion was a balm, a powerful antidote to the disappointment and pressure that had been crushing him. With every kiss, every touch, you felt him relax a little more, the deep-seated tension in his body slowly unwinding.

It wasn’t just physical; it was soul-deep, a profound emotional release that you were both desperate for.

He shifted, his body pressing down on yours, as he deepened the kiss, his leg sliding between yours, the bulk of his racing suit a comforting weight.

You whimpered softly, a sound of pure pleasure and relief, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders. Time ceased to exist.

You moved together instinctively, a rhythm building between you, a silent conversation of need and reassurance. It was a symphony of soft moans, ragged breaths, and the insistent press of bodies seeking solace and connection.

He kissed your jawline, your neck, then returned to your mouth, each kiss deeper, more consuming than the last. You felt utterly consumed by him, by the intensity of his presence, the profound love that flowed between you.

Eventually, the initial fire began to ebb, replaced by a profound sense of peace and exhaustion. The kissing slowed, growing softer, laced with tenderness.

His lips trailed across your cheek, then settled on your temple. He pulled you even closer, tucking your head under his chin, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other cradling your head. Your legs were still tangled together, his heavy against yours.

You could feel the profound exhaustion radiating from him now, the adrenaline finally giving way to bone-deep fatigue. He was practically asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, his breathing evening out to a slow, steady rhythm.

You lay there, on top of him, feeling the comfortable weight of his body, the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. The faint scent of racing fuel and rubber still clung to his suit, but it was now mixed with something else, something soft and warm and uniquely him.

You drifted off to sleep to the steady thrum of his heart, feeling utterly safe, utterly loved.

Hours later, you stirred, a soft groan escaping your lips as you stretched. Oscar shifted beneath you, a low murmur in his throat, his arm tightening instinctively around your waist.

You blinked, slowly taking in the dim light filtering through the drawn blinds of the driver’s room. You were still on the sofa, tangled together, your heads pillowed on each other, his racing suit still on.

You felt sticky with sweat – your own, and his – and the lingering scent of the race.

Oscar’s eyes fluttered open, a sleepy, contented haze in their depths. He blinked at you, a slow smile spreading across his face, a stark contrast to the despair you’d seen there hours ago.

"Afternoon, sleepyhead," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

You giggled, a soft, happy sound. "Or evening, more like. We're both incredibly sweaty now."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I suppose that means the shower is no longer optional." His eyes held a playful glint, a silent invitation.

You nudged him gently with your elbow. "Definitely not. But for once, I think we both need it. Together."

He didn't need any more convincing. With a groan of protest, more from the discomfort of his suit than from reluctance, he slowly untangled himself from you, then reached out a hand, pulling you up.

You both stretched, limbs stiff, but a profound calm had settled between you. The disappointment of the race lingered in the background, a faint echo, but it was overshadowed by the warmth and comfort of your shared intimacy.

He led the way, his hand taking yours, his stride still a little heavy with fatigue but now imbued with a quiet strength. The small en-suite bathroom was just a few steps away.

The door opened to reveal a simple, functional space, but right now, it felt like another sanctuary. You stepped in together, the humid air of the small shower stall already welcoming.

As the warm water began to stream down, washing away the sweat, the lingering tension, and the last vestiges of the day's disappointment, you leaned into him, feeling the last knots of stress unravel.

His arms wrapped around you under the spray, and you pressed your face into his wet shoulder, breathing in the clean scent of soap and fresh skin.

Here, in the quiet intimacy of the shower, with his arms around you, everything felt right again. The world could wait. . . .

[triptuckers]

thank you for including me!! it means a lot 💞

Percy Jackson Masterlist 🌊⚡️

08/01/2025

⭒ Luke Castellan

Percy Jackson

headcanons percy x child of hades by @triptuckers

Cabin three by @/triptuckers

Apollo!reader

Percy dating a daughter of Aphrodite by @/triptuckers

the comfort of home  by @/triptuckers

hades!reader

Worry too much by @specialagentlokitty

Sister!reader

Forget & Forgive by @cabinofimagines

Sister!reader

percy jackson dating a daughter of hades by @aristia-pjoheadcanons

Thin Line by theslay3d

Apollo!Reader

“Strawberry Kisses” by @strawberries-and-summer-days

demeter!fem!reader

Underwater by @leaawrites

daughter of Dionysus

SHE IS LIKE THUNDER by @lecsainz

Zeus!reader

my boyfriend by @enviedear

OLD ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND by @iamyourdailydoseofbi

CLOSE YOUR EYES  by @/iamyourdailydoseofbi

Apollo

Apollo x goddess/immortal wife by @theslay3d

Apollo x Demigod reader by @p0ssywhippedcream

Apollo x Human!Reader Headcanons by @mythologicalcorner

i’m immortal, i can wait by @themisplaceddemigod

Immortal Danger by @on-my-vigilante-sht

DaughterofDemeter!Reader

Immortal Danger II by @/on-my-vigilante-sht

wife!Reader

Apollo x wife!reader by @moondrop-writes

Serenity by @crxss01

Clarisse La Rue

— OPPOSITES ATTRACT by @targaryenluvs

aphrodite!daughter!reader

wish you’d ask me by @aphroditesmoon

fem!demigod!reader

Connor Stoll

daughter of Dionysus by @moondrop-writes

[triptuckers]

carlos sainz being hopelessly in love: a compilation

GIF by sainzprix

summary: carlos sainz can't help but talk about his girlfriend all the time, fans make compilation videos about it

folkie radio: compilation blurbs are back! honestly i have so much fun doing these and i was dying to do it for carlitossss, hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Carlos Sainz might be known as Formula 1's Smooth Operator, but there's one thing that makes him completely lose his cool: his girlfriend.

While most drivers keep their private lives under wraps, Carlos can't seem to help himself from turning into a lovesick puppy whenever she is mentioned. His teammates often tease him about how his usual composed demeanor melts away at the mere sight of her.

Fan compilations began flooding social media, showing every endearing moment of Carlos being completely smitten. The most popular one, titled "Carlos Sainz Being Hopelessly In Love: A Compilation," gained millions of views across platforms.

The video opens with Carlos walking to the Ferrari garage during media day. "Favorite meal after a race?" the social media guy asks for the team's instagram stories.

"Well, my girlfriend makes this amazing risotto," Carlos grins, adjusting his Ferrari cap, "I used to prefer paella but now… don't tell my mother, but her risotto is unbeatable."

In another clip, Carlos is doing a Ferrari team challenge, asked about his most used emoji.

"The chili emoji," Carlos laughs, "Because that's what I call my girlfriend. My little chili. She's small but spicy."

During a post-race interview after a podium finish: "This one's special because my girlfriend is here today. She couldn't come to many races this season so having her here for a podium means everything."

Another clip shows Carlos arriving at the paddock, his girlfriend walking slightly behind him. A fan calls out asking for a photo, and Carlos immediately reaches back to take her hand, pulling her into the frame with him.

"No no," he says when she tries to step away, "You're part of the photo cariño."

The fans melted, getting the entire interaction on camera.

There's a moment captured by F1TV during a rain delay. Carlos is in the garage, and the camera catches him FaceTiming with his girlfriend who couldn't make it to that race.

"See? It's properly wet," he shows her the track, "But don't worry, I'll be careful. Yes, yes, I promise."

A clip from Ferrari's social media games shows Carlos doing a "Rate or Hate" segment. When shown a picture of breakfast in bed:

"Rate, obviously. My girlfriend makes the best breakfast," he pauses, "Actually, she's going to watch this and know I'm lying. I make breakfast most mornings because she's terrible at waking up early. But she makes great coffee once she's actually awake."

"Mate, don't roast her like that," Charles laughed from beside him.

"She loves me, she doesn't mind." Carlos shrugged

There's footage from a fan in Monaco, catching Carlos and his girl walking their dogs. They don't notice they're being filmed, and Carlos is gesturing animatedly while she laughs, reaching up to wipe something from his face. The natural, unguarded moment became a fan favorite.

During another Ferrari social media video, Carlos is asked about his most played song.

"Oh no," he laughs, "My girlfriend's going to kill me but it's that Taylor Swift song she keeps playing. It's been stuck in my head for weeks. She converted me into a Swiftie, I can't believe it."

A paddock moment caught on camera shows her helping Carlos with his sunscreen before a hot race.

"I burn easily!" Carlos defends when Charles teases him, "She's is just taking care of me. Unlike some teammates…"

During a radio interview, Carlos is asked about living in Monaco.

"The best part is having my girlfriend there," he says, "She's made our house a home. Though she insists on having plants everywhere. I think we have about fifty now? She names them all too."

A casual moment caught by Sky Sports shows Carlos talking to his trainer between sessions. His girlfriend appears with his water bottle, and without interrupting his conversation, Carlos automatically lifts his arm so she can fit against his side.

During a Ferrari team challenge about "Who knows Carlos better?", Charles vs his girlfriend:

"His biggest fear?" the interviewer asks.

"Spiders," she answers immediately.

"That was supposed to be a secret!" Carlos protests.

"Mi amor, everyone knows since you made me catch that spider in the motorhome while you stood on a chair."

There's a sweet moment from Carlos' birthday celebration at a race weekend. The Ferrari team surprises him with a cake, and the camera catches his girlfriend helping him blow out the candles.

"What did you wish for?" someone asks.

"I already have everything I need," Carlos responds, his arm around her.

The compilation includes a clip where Carlos is doing simulator work, completely focused, until his girlfriend brings him coffee. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reaches for her hand and kisses it in thanks.

One of the most shared clips shows Carlos after a difficult race where he DNF'd. He's clearly frustrated in the garage, but the camera catches his girlfriend quietly approaching him. She doesn't say anything, just takes his hand, and you can see his shoulders immediately relax.

The final clip shows Carlos at a racing podcast, responding to a question about handling public attention as a couple.

"We try to keep things private, but it's natural to want to share your happiness sometimes. She understands this world, she supports me unconditionally, and that makes everything easier. Though she does make fun of me when I take too long choosing my race day outfit."

The compilation ends with text reading: "Find someone who's hopelessly in love with you as Carlos is with his girlfriend."

[triptuckers]

aaa thank you so much for including me! 💞 means a lot <333

Masterpost of Reads I Love

Gonna keep updating this list every so often so I can keep track of all the beautiful fics I come across and will want to reread to my heart's content. Here's me keeping track of fics I'm currently following, fics I reread, and fics I'd rather not lose to the depths of my fish brain memory!

Basically, a bank of fics I cherish deeply 💛✨

(P.S.- if you have recommendations for fics I can gorge on, PLEASE send them my way. Comment under this post or send it through my inbox! I am a fanfic fiend at this point

😭🙏)

Currently Reading 🔖:

Joel Miller:

1. The Savage and The Sanctuary by @justagalwhowrites 2. Ouroboros by @millermouth 3. This is Not a Place of Honour (AO3) by @not-cricketing 4. See You at Three (AO3) by @almostfoxglove 5. Tender Payments of Our Sins (AO3) by @3pirouette 6. A Haunted Body (AO3) by Kodachromereader 7. Honey (AO3) by the_invisiblewoman

Miguel O'Hara:

1. An Incantation Like An Anti-Cruse (AO3) by kindnessgracelss 2. Soft Animal (AO3) by BogElf

Miscellaneous:

1. The Art of the Deal (Harry Castillo) (AO3) by @gothicpaperback

Finished Fics/One-Shots 📚:

Joel Miller:

1. Ghost by @ohraicodoll 2. Territorial by @ohraicodoll 3. The Other Woman by @filthyjoelslvr 4. Beck and Call by @ilikeevilblondes 5. As It Always Was by @mirrormauve 6. Notes in the Dark by @pandapetals 7. The Band Plays On by @sweetsuburbanlegends 8. You Have Me, You Have Me Only by @familyvideostevie 9. Sunset on The Fenceline by @pandapetals 10. horsegirl!reader x handyman!joel by @millermouth 11. Texas Sun by @from-the-clouds

Din Djarin/Mandelarian:

1. Ain't You My Baby by @utterlyazriel 2. A Fresh Start by @theidiotwhowritesthings 3. In a Perfect World, You Love Me by @theidiotwhowritesthings 4. Rough Day by @no-droids

Javier Pēna:

1. Call Me by @touchtheinvisiblestars

Poe Dameron:

1. Heat Me Up by @eyelessfaces 2. Nine by @foxilayde 3. Albanza (AO3) by @brandyllyn 4. The Art of Falling (AO3) by @brandyllyn

Miguel O'Hara:

1. Lover's Meeting by @hungerheld 2. Parallels by @bumpkinspice0 3. Dark Red (AO3) by thedogstar 4. Toxin (AO3) by fablecor

Cassian Andor:

1. Lighthouse by @triptuckers 2. Like A Vow by @andorsdoll 3. Lay me down by @heliads

Miscellaneous:

1. His Priestess (Marcus Acacius) by @letsgobarbs

Will make this more organized later. Just had to get this one out there first, lol.

[triptuckers]

My Boys

Carlos Sainz x Wife!Reader

The sun had barely risen over the quiet Spanish coast when you heard tiny feet padding across the floor.

“Mamá…” a sleepy voice mumbled as soft curls peeked from under the blanket. Your son, Mateo — or as the world had lovingly started calling him, Mini Sainz — crawled onto the bed, wedging himself between you and Carlos with practiced ease.

You smiled, brushing the hair from his forehead. “Buenos días, mi amor. You slept well?”

He nodded, still half-asleep, already cuddling against you. Carlos stirred beside you and immediately reached for both of you, draping an arm around his family.

“Hey, champ,” he murmured, voice hoarse from sleep. “Didn’t want to wait for breakfast to see Mamá, huh?”

Mateo nodded again, this time more awake. “I wanted to tell her she’s pretty.”

Carlos laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head. “Good man. Always tell the girl you love she’s beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “He gets it from you.”

“Oh, definitely,” Carlos grinned, now fully awake and reaching out to cup your cheek. “Although I’m not sure I was this smooth when I was three.”

“Three and a half,” Mateo corrected him.

Carlos smirked. “Perdón, señor. My mistake.”

The morning passed with pancakes, chocolate milk moustaches, and your son insisting on opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, and giving you a little flower from the garden “just because.”

“He literally watched you do all of that yesterday,” you whispered to Carlos.

“I’m not surprised,” he whispered back, wrapping an arm around your waist. “He’s my son. And you’re his queen. Just like you’re mine.”

Later that day, when Carlos left for the paddock, you stood by the door, waving goodbye with Mateo in your arms. As soon as the door shut, Mateo placed his hands on either side of your face and declared with full toddler confidence:

“Don’t worry, Mamá. I take care of you. Just like Papá.”

Your eyes filled with tears before you laughed, hugging him tightly.

And you realized then, you really did have two soulmates — one with messy curls and a love for racing, and one who still couldn’t tie his shoelaces right but would fight the world for you.

Both Sainz boys. Both yours.

This was Requested.🫶🏼