the-offside-rule

[the-offside-rule]

Oscar Piastri (McLaren) - Well F**k

Requested: yes

Prompt: 1) Staying back to finish a project together

Warnings: none

College/Work AU Masterlist

t was past midnight, and the blue light of Y/n’s laptop cast a hazy glow across the cramped dorm room. The once-pristine engineering blueprint now looked like a battlefield—coffee-stained, scribbled on, and hastily taped together in spots. She tapped her pen anxiously against the desk, glancing at her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. "He’s not your boyfriend." Her roommate, Izzy, said from across the room without looking up from her book. "You’re acting like he’s coming over with flowers and a promise ring."

"He’s bringing the parts for the engine." Y/n muttered defensively, although she was smiling. "This thing’s due at nine, and I’m not trying to fail because of a late delivery."

"Right. It’s definitely the engine you’re excited about." Izzy smirked, finally glancing over. "You’ve been fixing your hair in your webcam reflection for the last twenty minutes." Y/n threw a pencil at her, but it missed wildly and bounced off the wall. Before Izzy could make another snarky comment, there was a soft knock at the door. "Saved by the Aussie." Izzy whispered with a teasing grin. Y/n scrambled to open the door. There stood Oscar Piastri, hoodie zipped halfway, arms full with a small box and a backpack slung over one shoulder. His hair was a little windswept, like he’d jogged across campus.

"Sorry I’m late." He said with a breathless smile. "The 3D printer jammed, and I had to fight a mechanical arm for the crankshaft prototype."

"Did you win?" She asked, stepping aside to let him in. "Barely." He stepped into the room, and Izzy gave him a knowing look over the top of her book. "I’m gonna head to you-know-who's." She said pointedly, grabbing her bag. "Try not to light anything on fire."

Once she was gone, Y/n locked the door and gestured to the workspace she’d set up by the window. "Looks good." Oscar said, setting down the parts and flipping open his notebook. CYou were working on the ignition housing, right?"

"Yeah, but I’m stuck on the timing alignment."

"We can work on that, then."

As they both leaned over the half-assembled mini engine, the energy in the room shifted into something focused and rhythmic. The silence between them was easy, broken only by the clink of tools and the occasional muttered swear when something didn’t fit quite right. Y/n took a long sip from a half-warm Monster can sitting on the windowsill. Oscar raised an eyebrow.

"Lando Norris?" He asked, recognizing the branding immediately. "Yeah. The melon one." He made a face. "Overrated."

"You’re overrated."

"You wish."

Their eyes met for a second too long before they both looked back at the engine, cheeks tinged pink. Oscar cleared his throat. "Alright, let’s get this piston lined up. If we get the timing right, we can finish assembly and test it by morning."

By 4:27 a.m., exhaustion had sunk its teeth into them. Oscar was on the floor, legs stretched out, while Y/n was curled beside him with a hoodie bunched beneath her head. "You think it’ll run?" She mumbled, eyes barely open. "If we didn’t mess up the timing gear… maybe."

"Great." She yawned, curling a little closer. "Wake me up if it starts to smoke." Oscar chuckled quietly. "M'kay." They drifted off with the faint hum of the heater and the scent of solder lingering in the air.

Sunlight spilled through the blinds when Y/n stirred, face smushed against Oscar’s shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open to find him already awake, watching her with a sleepy smile. "Morning." He said, voice gravelly. "Hi." She whispered back, fighting back a grin. "Did you stay up?"

"Nope." He replied quickly, but his smirk betrayed him. "But you fell asleep on me like twenty minutes after promising you’d stay awake."

"Typical."

They sat up slowly, blinking against the light. Y/n reached for the engine model on the desk and glanced at the digital clock. 7:41 a.m. "Moment of truth?" She asked, nerves suddenly buzzing under her skin. Oscar nodded and flipped the power switch.

Nothing.

Y/n frowned and pressed it again, checking the wiring.

Still nothing.

Oscar leaned in, double-checked the power input, and even swapped the battery. Still, the engine remained stubbornly still. "Are you serious?" She muttered, the panic rising. Oscar ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight. "We triple-checked the alignment. Everything should be right." She could feel the burn of disappointment curling in her throat. After all the effort. The hours. The spark between them. It was like a needle scratching across a perfect record. "Well… that’s brutal." She finally said, trying to laugh it off.

Oscar looked at her for a second, then sighed. "We’ve still got an hour. Maybe we missed something stupid."

"We?"

"Hey, I’m not letting you make me take the fall for this." He said firmly. She blinked at him, surprised by the determination in his voice. "Fine." He gave her a half-smile. "Just don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my image."

"Overrated, remember?" She teased. "Still better than a melon Monster." Their eyes locked again, a flicker of something unspoken between them, and then—

"Let’s get this engine to start." Oscar said, already digging into the wiring. Together, tired and a little buzzed from nerves and caffeine, they dove back into the project. And maybe, just maybe, they weren’t entirely hopeless.

[the-offside-rule]

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - I'd Give Up Forever To Touch You

Requested: no

Prompt: Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls

Warnings: its SAD bro

The palace glowed golden against the inky sky, the sound of clinking glasses and muffled laughter echoing from the great hall. Tonight was a celebration. Charles Leclerc had won the Monaco Grand Prix, his home race, at last. The city rejoiced. Y/n, Princess of Monaco, stood poised beside her father, the Prince, her tiara delicate but heavy. Her smile never cracked. Her heart did.

She watched Charles slowly make his way through the receiving line, shaking hands, thanking dignitaries and foreign guests. He was radiant, flushed with victory, his eyes sharp and searching. When he reached her, he bowed slightly, lower than protocol demanded. Then he took her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to it, a beat too long. His thumb grazed her wrist. Her stomach twisted.

"Your Highness." He murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. Her eyes met his for a fleeting second. Her nod was practiced, regal. She watched him move on. She didn’t let her hand tremble.

Dinner passed in a blur of speeches and toasts. Y/n played her part. She laughed, offered polite claps, lifted her glass with grace. But inside, she was already on the balcony. It was her sanctuary; the only place in the palace that felt like hers. She stepped outside, the ocean stretching dark and infinite below. The wind tugged at the silk of her dress, and she gripped the railing, willing her heart to still.

He deserves tonight. He deserves joy. I’ll ruin it if I say anything. I always ruin it.

She didn’t hear the doors open until they clicked shut again. She turned. Charles stood there, tuxedo immaculate, eyes soft. His hair still messy despite the gel his mother used to try style it to be a bit more presentable, but his smile, that smile was only for her. "I knew I’d find you here." He said. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. "Congratulations." He stepped closer. "You didn’t come see me after the press. Thought you might be avoiding me."

Not avoiding. Preparing to lose you.

The air was thick, the silence was deafening. Then he leaned in. She turned her face. He froze, brows furrowing, stepping back. "Right. Of course." He said, stiffly. "We’re not alone." There was a pause. Then he tried again. "Come by later? After the chaos dies down. We can talk. Ask your guard for a favour again." He chuckled as his hands rested on her hips. She didn’t answer. Her throat closed around it. "Y/n?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. His smile had started to fade. She met his eyes. And broke.

"We can’t, Charles. I can’t."

Confusion washed over his features. "What are you talking about?" He asked. "You know what I’m talking about." she said, voice thick. "I’m next in line. I can’t keep sneaking around rooftops and pretending that someday this will be simple." He took a step forward. "So we stop pretending."

"Don’t."

"Y/n-"

"I’ll never ask you to give up racing. Never ask you to quit doing what you love. But I also can’t ask my family, tge principality, to accept something they won’t. You know how this ends."

Silence.

"You think I care what they think?" His voice rose. "You think I wouldn’t give it all up if it meant being with you publicly? No more hiding? I’d change a million things about myself if it meant they’d look at me and see someone worthy of you."

"Stop." She begged. "Please. Don’t make this harder than it is." Her voice cracked. "You want me to drink champagne and forget you tonight?" He snapped. "Smile for the cameras while you're dying inside? I don't want their party. I want you. If I can’t have you by my side, I want no part of this." Her heart shattered. "Then you’re a fool." She whispered. "Because I will never ask you to change your life for mine."

"And I’ll never forgive you for making that choice alone."

Her composure broke. She ran into his arms, lips crashing against his in a desperate, soul-baring kiss. It was fire and grief and everything they couldn’t have. He stumbled back, pinned against the cold stone of the balcony as he held her like he’d never let go. When they broke apart, her lipgloss marked his mouth.

"I love you." She said, a confession and a farewell in one breath. "But I can't ask you to give everything up. You were never mine to keep." She turned and disappeared through the glass doors before he could reach for her again. He stood in the cold, heart in ruins, frantically wiping her lipstick from his lips before someone could see it. And somewhere inside, the music swelled. The Prince raised another toast.

But Charles stayed on the balcony — mourning something the world was never meant to see.

[the-offside-rule]

Do you write for tennis and golf???

Omg if i had requests from then then YES absolutely

[the-offside-rule]

Pedro Acosta - Skincare

Requested: yes

Prompt: skincare w Pedro Acosta

Warnings: none just fluff

Pedro stared at his phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard as he debated how to word his next message. Finally, he typed out a simple:

Pedro Hey, amor, can I come over tonight? I miss you.

He leaned back in his chair, helmet from training still on the table in front of him, and waited for the usual enthusiastic response. A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.

Y/n I don’t think so, Pedro.

He frowned at the reply. She never said no. In fact, she was usually the one asking him to come over if he hadn't already suggested it.

Pedro Why not? Are you okay?

The three dots indicating she was typing appeared, then disappeared. After a minute, they reappeared, and her message came through.

Y/n I just… I'm having a bad acne breakout. I don’t want you to see me like this.

Pedro blinked at the screen, then chuckled softly. Acne? That’s why she didn’t want him over?

Pedro Seriously? Amor, I don’t care about that

Her response was quick.

Y/n I know you mean that, but I don’t feel good about it. It’s really bad this time.

Pedro sighed, her seriousness clear even through the screen. He couldn’t just leave her feeling self-conscious and alone. An idea popped into his head, and he grabbed his jacket and keys.

Pedro Alright, I won’t come over… unless I come prepared. Be ready.

Before she could argue, Pedro was out the door.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

At her favorite store, Pedro wandered through the skincare aisle, picking up a couple of face masks and eye masks. He made sure to grab soothing and hydrating ones—he wasn’t an expert, but he figured they’d feel nice. Then he headed to the fresh produce section, selecting a few of her favorite fruits, and grabbed her go-to drink on the way to the counter.

Half an hour later, he was knocking on her door, bags in hand. Y/n opened it cautiously, peeking through the gap. "Pedro, I asked you-"

"eah, yeah." He interrupted, slipping inside before she could stop him. He grinned and held up the bags. "I come with gifts. You won't lose me that easily." She sighed, tugging at her sweater. "Pedro-"

"Amor, come on. Everyone has bad skin days." He said, his tone soft but firm. "So, here’s the plan. We’re doing a spa night, eating your favorite snacks, and watching whatever movie you want. Deal?" She hesitated, biting her lip, but the corners of her mouth tugged upward. "I hate you sometimes, you know that?"

"Maybe, but you love me too." He teased, setting the bags down on her bed. She laughed, her shoulders relaxing. "Fine. But I’m picking the movie."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

An hour later, they were sprawled on her bed, both wearing matching green face masks. Pedro had one arm wrapped around her while the other held a bowl of sliced fruit they were sharing. On the screen, the movie played, but neither of them paid much attention. "You look good in a face mask." Y/n teased, her voice muffled as she rested her head on his chest. "Obviously." Pedro quipped. "But you look better."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Thanks for this. I needed it." He kissed the top of her head, careful not to smudge their masks. "Always, amor. Bad skin day or not, I’m here for you." As the credits rolled and the face masks dried, Pedro tightened his hold on her. Nights like these, filled with laughter and love, were his favorite kind—even if they involved green goo and cheesy rom-coms.

[the-offside-rule]

Franco Colapinto (Alpine) - Packing Up

Requested: yes

Prompt: some mutual pining with Franco

Warnings: none

The apartment was unusually quiet for a Monday before a double header. Franco walked down the hallway, adjusting the strap on his duffel bag when he heard a familiar voice drifting from Y/n’s room. "I dont think this makes sense to pack, but.....just in case." She muttered. He raised an eyebrow. Was she... talking to herself? The door was ajar, and curiosity got the better of him. He pushed it open gently and peered inside. Y/n was crouched next to an open suitcase, phone propped up on a stack of folded shirts. Her hair was in a bun, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head like a crown, and she was narrating her chaotic packing process to her phone like it was her best friend.

"Qué estás haciendo? (What are you doing?)" He asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips. She looked up, grinning when she saw him. "Un TikTok. Me lo pidió la gente. (A TikTok. People asked for it.)" She turned the phone toward him, and Franco instinctively waved at it, eyebrows raised. "Hola a todos, soy el rehén. (Hey, everyone. I'm a hostage)" He said with mock seriousness. Y/n rolled her eyes with a laugh. "Eres libre de irte cuando quieras. (You’re free to leave whenever you want.)"

"Pero me quedo porque esto es mejor que Netflix. (But I'm staying because this is better than Netflix)." He said, plopping down on her bed. She continued her running commentary, pulling random items from her dresser and tossing them into the suitcase. "This is for the paddock. This is for when I inevitably break a nail because it happens so often you have no idea. And maybe-" Franco wasn’t really listening. His eyes landed on a bikini lying innocently on the bedspread. Without hesitation, he picked it up, held it against his chest, and grinned.

"Y esto? Vas a empacar esto? Porque me encanta. (And this? Are you packing this? Because I love it.)" He teased. Y/n snorted and lunged to snatch it from him. "Franco! Coño!" She laughed, batting his arm. "Dámelo. No es para Bélgica. (Franco! Give it. It's not for Belgium.)" He laughed, dropping it dramatically as she tossed it into the corner. "Deberías. Después de todo, nos vamos de vacaciones después, no? (You should. We are going on vacation after all, aren’t we?)"

"Para eso tengo otra maleta. (That's what the other bag is for)" She said, tapping a second suitcase under her bed. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Usaste mi tarjeta para reservar todo, verdad? (You used my card to book everything, didn’t you?)" She gave a guilty little shrug. "Pues claro." Franco slowly turned to the camera with a look of utter betrayal. “Esta piba…" He muttered, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. Y/n laughed. “Vamos de Bélgica a Grecia. Necesito una maleta para trabajar y otra para el bikini que tanto te gusta. Me diste tu tarjeta. Hice lo que haría cualquier mujer sensata. (We’re going from Belgium to Greece. I need one suitcase for work and one for that bikini you love so much. You gave me your card. I did what any sensible woman would do.)" He grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it at her gently. "Sos una ladrona, boluda. (You’re a thief, dumbass.)"

"Y tú me adoras." She shot back with a wink. Franco just shook his head, still grinning, and leaned back on her bed, watching her finish packing. "Un día me vas a arruinar... pero qué manera tan divertida de caer. (One day you’re going to ruin me… but what a fun way to fall.)" She paused mid-pack, looking at him with a raised brow. "Estás flirteando conmigo o es el cansancio?" (Are you flirting with me or is that just exhaustion?) Franco gave a lazy smile. "Por qué no los dos?" (Why not both?)

And just like that, Y/n turned back to her suitcase with a laugh, muttering something about how she really needed to finish before he distracted her again—though secretly, she didn’t mind the distraction one bit.

[the-offside-rule]

Isack Hadjar (VCARB) - Incident

Requested: yes

Prompt: 29) "I didn’t know you could be this bold."

Warnings: mentions of a crash

The green flashes of the Aston Martin blurred past the garages as Y/n pushed through her qualifying hot lap, feeling every vibration of the car beneath her. She knew she was nailing the sector— purple times lighting up her dash— when suddenly, out of nowhere, a car crawled out of the pit exit without warning.

Her heart seized.

"Shit!" She cursed, instinctively jerking the wheel. She managed to avoid slamming into the slow-moving cars, but she clipped the outside wall with a sickening thud instead. "Red flag, red flag. Y/n, are you okay?" Her engineer crackled in her ear immediately. The car was wounded but slowing safely. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel as she brought it to a controlled stop. She didn't answer right away — more because she was furious than hurt.

"I'm fine." She bit out. "Who was that." She looked over to see the Racing Bull car passing her, looking intently at where the driver number was.

6

Before she could even process it, she was ushered to the medical centre for checks. It was standard protocol after an impact, no matter how minor, but at that moment, she wanted to be back with the team to figure out how to get the car fixed before tomorrow. After about a half hour in the medical centre, she was told she had a bruised elbow, a sore shoulder, and a spiraling mood were all she left with, stomping out with her race suit tied around her waist, fireproofs sticking to her skin in the midday heat.

Across the paddock, Isack was mid-interview, laughing about something stupid, clearly unaware of the carnage he’d caused...until he spotted her. His smile dropped instantly. "Sorry— sorry, I have to go." He blurted, ripping the mic pack off and jogging after her. "Y/n! Wait up!" Cameras turned like sunflowers to follow the drama. Microphones poised. Y/n kept walking, jaw set. "I didn't know you could be this bold, Isack." She said as he called after her, the cameras loving the drama. When she noticed the cameras getting closer, she realised she had to shut up and stay quiet. Isack on the other hand, wanted to say sorry and wanted her to know he was sorry and insisted on talking. "Y/n, really. I-" She didn’t even look at him when she snapped. "Shut up and follow me." She said low and sharp. Isack’s eyes widened, but he obeyed, trailing after her as she stormed toward Aston Martin hospitality. He looked so out of place, like a rookie sneaking into enemy territory, clutching his cap awkwardly, ignoring the stares from green-clad team as he walked by.

Y/n didn’t slow down until they reached her driver room. She shoved the door open, stepped inside, and waited until he followed before clicking it shut behind him. Only then did she whirl around to face him. "I'm sorry." He blurted out, hands raised slightly. "They didn’t tell me you were on a hot lap, I swear. I wouldn’t have—"

"It's fine." She said, voice clipped. "Accidents happen." He blinked. "Really?" He seemed surprised. "No." She sighed after a beat. "I'm still pissed. But it’s fine." There was a heavy silence before Isack let out a nervous breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "You scared the hell out of me, you know. You just disappeared around the wall." She chuckled. "You scared me more." She muttered, slumping onto the sofa in her room. The adrenaline crash was hitting her hard now. "I thought I was gonna end up in the other side of the barrier." He sat down opposite her, guilt written all over his face. "I really am sorry. I feel like an idiot."

"You are an idiot." She said, but there was a tiny, tired smile twitching at her lips. That cracked the tension. They started talking about everything and nothing about qualifying chaos about other stupid near-misses they'd had in junior categories about how the whole paddock felt cursed today. Neither of them noticed the time slipping by until her media officer knocked frantically on the door. "You both have to be in the media pen now." The voice called. Y/n groaned, pulling herself to her feet. "Come on, genius. Time to face the firing squad." Isack laughed sheepishly, following her out of the room and back into the chaos of the paddock — this time side-by-side.

The media pen....was chaos

Drivers, team members, journalists — all packed together like a school hallway between classes. Y/n and Isack ended up standing side-by-side, waiting for their turn, crammed against the barrier with cameras pointed everywhere. It should have been awkward after everything, but somehow it wasn’t. They were both laughing under their breath, Isack whispering a ridiculous retelling of what had happened — complete with dramatic hand gestures — and Y/n shaking her head, trying to keep a straight face.

"And then you yeeted yourself into the wall like it was Mario Kart." Isack whispered, eyes wide in fake horror. "I didn’t yeet!" She laughed quietly, elbowing him. "You did! I was there." Their laughter died down just as a Sky Sports reporter called Y/n over. She shot Isack a mock-glare and stepped forward, pulling her race suit tighter around her waist as she adjusted the mic clipped to her top.

"So, Y/n." The reporter began, smiling warmly. "First off, glad you're okay. Bit of drama out there today. Can you tell us about what happened in qualifying?" Y/n nodded. "Yeah, I mean it happens. I have been guilty of doing that before too, so I completely understand. Just a lack of communication all around really, but I'm fine, the car not so much." She replied. "Any injuries that could affect you tomorrow?" She let out a sigh. "A bruised ego maybe?" The interviewer laughed. "No, just my elbow and shoulder are a but sore but nothing to worry about. I'll work with my physio to sort it for tomorrow."

"Isack was seen following you in, I assume it was to apologise. Is everything good between you two?" Instead of answering, Y/n glanced sideways at Isack, who was still lingering just a few steps away, pretending to be very interested in his shoes. "Actually." She said, smiling mischievously. "Isack! Come here." Isack looked up, startled. He pointed to himself. "Yes, you. Come on." She laughed, waving him over. The interviewer grinned, clearly loving it as Isack awkwardly sidled up next to her in front of the camera.

"So-" Y/n said, folding her arms. "This absolute genius here decided to have a sightseeing tour of the track while I was on a hot lap." He groaned. "I didn’t know!" Isack protested, laughing. She shook her head, grinning now. "Honestly, it was either hit him or hit the wall. I chose the wall." The interviewer chuckled. "All good between you two, then?" Y/n exaggerated a long, heavy sigh before finally nodding. "Yeah, it's all good. I mean, how can you stay mad at this idiot?" She said, squishing his face between her two hands.

She turned slightly toward him with a playful glint in her eye, and leaned in to pretend to give him a kiss on the cheek as a joke. Except right as she moved, Isack turned his face toward her, and instead of pretending, she accidentally kissed his cheek for real. They both froze for half a second, wide-eyed, and then burst out laughing in front of the cameras. Y/n covered her mouth, trying and failing to stifle the giggles, and Isack just rubbed the spot on his cheek dramatically like he’d been blessed by the heavens. The interviewer was practically howling at this point. "I think that answers my question."

Still laughing, Y/n grabbed Isack’s sleeve and pulled him toward the exit of the pen, waving vaguely over her shoulder. "We’ve got more interviews to bomb." She said over her shoulder. "And hopefully no more crashes!" Isack teased, trailing after her, both of them still smiling like idiots as the cameras kept flashing behind them.

[the-offside-rule]

Sam & Dean Winchester (Supernatural) - Welcome Back

Requested: yes

Prompt: How Y/n would be introduced into season 1

Warnings: none

The glow of the streetlamp outside flickered against the window as Y/n Winchester unlocked the door to her apartment. It was late, too late, really, but her grueling study session had finally wrapped up, and she was ready to collapse on her bed for a few precious hours of sleep. She pushed the door open, her brain too fogged from hours of memorizing anatomy to notice anything amiss. That is, until she glanced toward her couch and froze.

"You know, people usually give notice before visiting." She said as she flicked on the lights. Her twin brother, Sam, was sitting on her couch, arms crossed with that familiar look of concern she hadn't seen in years. Dean stood by the bookshelf, casually flipping through one of her medical textbooks, looking utterly out of place amidst her carefully curated student life. "Hey, sis." Dean greeted, his trademark smirk spreading across his face. "Nice digs. Though, I gotta say, studying medicine? At least it's something useful." He held up her textbook for emphasis, then tossed it onto the coffee table with a loud thud.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she stepped inside, flinging her bag onto the couch beside Sam. "Well, we can't all get our education by slicing open demons and stitching each other up in sketchy motel rooms." Dean chuckled, clearly amused. "Fair point. But trust me, what we’ve got coming up? Gonna need a doctor more than a lawyer." Sam shot his older brother a look. "We might need a lawyer, Dean." Y/n's eyebrows furrowing, glanced between the two of them. "What’s going on?"

Dean’s face sobered slightly, his smirk fading into something more serious. "Dad hasn’t been home in a few days." Y/n shrugged, heading into the kitchen and pulling a pot of noodles from her cabinet. "And? When is he ever? He probably got sidetracked chasing another ghost story." Dean followed her, leaning against the counter. "I'll say it again. Dad was on a hunting trip." That stopped her in her tracks. She turned slowly, the unease creeping into her chest. "He hasn’t been home in a couple of days." Her gaze flicked to Sam, who gave her a small nod. "He told you the same thing?" She asked, her voice quieter now.

"Yeah." Sam confirmed. "And you believe him?" She asked. "I really don't think he'd lie. Especially about Dad." Y/n's eyes darted between her two brothers before she groaned deeply, running a hand through her hair. "You couldn't have picked worse timing, man. I have a paper due, a big one. I already turned in the last one late, and my professor is this close to failing me." Dean crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. "Sorry, Doc. This isn’t up for debate. You’re coming with us."

The microwave beeped, signaling her noodles were ready. She shot Dean a glare before turning to grab the bowl. "Fine. But I’m eating in the car." Dean grinned, the tension in the room easing just slightly. "Not a chance. My baby doesn’t do noodle stains." Y/n rolled her eyes again, grabbing a duffle bag from her closet. "Whatever. I’ll pack my stuff. You two better be ready to roll when I’m done."

Minutes later, she shoved her bag into the back seat of the Impala, right next to Sam’s. Sliding into the front seat with her noodles in hand, she jabbed a plastic fork into the bowl and took a big bite as Dean glared at her through the mirror. "Seriously, Y/n-" Dean warned, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "You spill one drop of that crap, and you’re walking." She waved him off, mouth full. "Don’t worry about it, pretty boy, just drive already." Dean shook his head with a grin, the engine roaring to life. "Welcome back to the family business, sis."

The hunt was calling, and once again, the Winchesters were on the road.

[the-offside-rule]

Can I please request a Jack Doohan with the prompt 39 "Stop flirting and focus on the road!" From the motorsport prompts?

Jack Doohan (Alpine) - Route 66

Posted xxxx

[the-offside-rule]

Alejandro Balde (FCBarcelona) - Quieres Jugar?

Requested: yes

Prompt: gaming with Alejandro Balde

Warnings: none

Alejandro lounged comfortably on his gaming chair, headset snugly fitted over his ears, controller in hand, as the sounds of gunfire and explosions blared through his TV. His teammates' voices came through loud and clear in rapid Spanish. "Cúbreme, tío! Estoy recargando." (Cover me, dude! I’m reloading.) Gavi shouted into his headset as Ferran rushed to cover him. "Pero qué haces, Alejandro! Estás corriendo al medio como un loco." (What are you doing, Alejandro! You’re running into the middle like a madman.)

"Cállate! Es estrategia, vale?" (Shut up! It’s strategy, okay?) Alejandro shot back, grinning. Just then, the door to his room creaked open, and Y/n walked in with a bright smile, holding a tall glass of a freshly made smoothie. Alejandro glanced at her briefly, then returned his attention to the screen. "Hola, guapa." He said with a soft grin, quickly muting his mic.

"Hola, chicos." She greeted warmly, leaning down to place the smoothie on his desk. Through the headset, a chorus of excited greetings erupted. "Hola, Y/n!"

"Qué suerte tiene Alejandro, madre mía!" (Alejandro is so lucky, wow.) Torre spoke up. Alejandro rolled his eyes as he unmuted his mic. "Veis? Ahora me estáis poniendo rojo, contentos?" (See? Now you're making me blush, happy?) Y/n chuckled, amused by their antics. Alejandro turned to her and smirked. "Quieres jugar?" (Want to play?) She shook her head with an apologetic smile. "No puedo, tengo que estudiar para los exámenes." (I can’t, I have to study for exams.)

"Eso no les importa-" Alejandro teased, tilting his head toward the headset. "No me van a dejar en paz hasta que juegues." (They don’t care about that- they won’t leave me alone until you play.) Y/n groaned, biting her lip. "Cinco minutos, pero luego me voy, vale?" (Five minutes, but then I’m leaving, okay?) Alejandro’s face lit up with a grin as she sat down beside him. He handed her the controller, and she adjusted it in her hands. He kept the headset on, wanting to hear his teammates' reactions.

"Sabes cómo jugar?" (Do you know how to play?) He asked, teasing. She gave him a pointed look. "Tengo hermanos y primos, Alejandro. Esto es pan comido." (I have brothers and cousins, Alejandro. This is a piece of cake.) His teammates laughed. "Eso sí es confianza! Vamos a ver." (Now that's confidence! Let's see.) Ferran chuckled as they waited to start up a new game.

Y/n entered the match with surprising ease, moving the joystick smoothly and racking up kills left and right. The boys on the other end of the line were losing their minds. "Pero si es mejor que tú, Balde!" (She’s better than you, Balde!) Gavi joked. "Fíchala para el equipo!" (Sign her up for the team!) Torre laughed along.

Alejandro leaned back in disbelief, unable to hide his grin. "Sabía que eras buena, pero esto es otro nivel." (I knew you were good, but this is another level.)

By the end of the match, she had led their team to victory. She handed the controller back with a satisfied smile. Alejandro looked at her with admiration, shaking his head. 'Deberías jugar más seguido." (You should play more often.) Y/n laughed, standing up and brushing a quick kiss on his lips. "Ahora sí, tengo que estudiar. Diviértete." (Now I really have to study. Have fun.)

As she walked out, the boys erupted in loud goodbyes through the headset. "Adiós, Y/n!Vuelve pronto, por favor!" (Bye, Y/n! Come back soon, please!)

"Eres la mejor, no como Alejandro!" (You’re the best, not like Alejandro!) Alejandro winced, pulling off the headset to rub his ears. "Vale, vale, ya! Callaos!" (Alright, alright, enough! Shut up!) But he couldn’t help the smile that stayed on his face the rest of the night.

[the-offside-rule]

Ollie Bearman (Haas) - Rainy Days

Requested: yes

Prompt: Ollie and his girlfriend sharing hoodies

Warnings: none

Y/n loved rainy days. There was something so comforting about being curled up inside while the rain pattered softly against the windows, the sky a gentle shade of grey. But what she loved most about rainy days was stealing Ollie's hoodies. She was currently wrapped up in her favourite one—an oversized navy hoodie that smelled like him, with some crest slightly faded on the chest. It hung past her fingertips, practically swallowing her whole, and she had the sleeves pulled over her hands as she stood in the kitchen making tea.

Ollie walked in just as she was pouring the hot water into a mug. He was fresh out of the shower, his damp curls falling over his forehead, and his grey sweatpants sat low on his hips. His gaze flickered over to her, and instantly, his lips curved into an amused smirk. "Is that my hoodie?" He asked, leaning against the counter. "No." Y/n lied smoothly, lifting the mug to her lips.

Ollie raised a brow, stepping closer. "Really? Because it looks an awful lot like the one I was planning to wear today." She took a slow sip of her tea, peering at him over the rim of the mug. "Maybe you just lost yours." She suggested, voice innocent. Ollis huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You’re such a little thief." Y/n grinned, setting her tea down before stretching up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his jaw. "I'm not a thief. I’m a girl who likes her boyfriend’s hoodies."

"You like them a little too much." He teased, wrapping his arms around her waist and effortlessly lifting her onto the counter. She let out a giggle, looping her arms around his neck. "You love it." Ollie pretended to think for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, I do." He admitted, nudging his nose against hers. "You’re cute when you steal my stuff."

"I know." Y/n said smugly. Ollie rolled his eyes, but his hands tightened around her waist, keeping her close. "You’re lucky I love you." He murmured. She beamed. "I really am." And just like that, Ollie kissed her—slow and sweet, like they had all the time in the world, like there was nothing better to do on a rainy day than be wrapped up in each other.

[the-offside-rule]

The top 3 posts being my McLaren boys

[the-offside-rule]

Jack Doohan (Alpine) - Route 66

Requested: yes

Prompt:

Warnings: nope (THIS WAS WRITTEN BEFORE JACK GOT BOOTED)

The stretch of open road blurred by in long ribbons of sun-scorched asphalt. Y/n lounged in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under her, sunglasses perched on her nose, scrolling through her phone. The radio buzzed low in the background, a mix of rock classics and country twang filling the tiny rental car Jack had stubbornly insisted on. "Liam’s just texted again." She said, smirking as she tilted her phone to show Jack. "He’s fuming he wasn’t invited." Jack barked out a laugh, tapping the steering wheel in time with the music. "Tell him we didn’t invite him because he’d whine the whole way about air conditioning and snack choices."

Y/n grinned, thumbs flying across the screen. "Jack says you would've whined the whole time." She narrated as she typed. Within seconds, her phone buzzed again. "He says, and I quote, tell the discount Ken Doll to shove it." Jack practically wheezed, shaking his head as he stole a quick glance at her. "Tell him he's just jealous we actually stuck to our word and did route 66."

"Can't you just text him? I'm more than just your messenger, you know." Y/n warned, nudging his arm lightly. "Sorry, sorry." Jack teased, shooting her a cheeky grin before turning his attention back to the highway. "Just can't help myself. You're too distracting."

"Stop flirting and keep your eyes on the road. I'm not trying to crash." She deadpanned, trying not to smile. He only chuckled, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Not flirting. Just… complimenting my co-pilot." She rolled her eyes, but warmth bloomed in her chest all the same.

They'd talked about this road trip since they were kids, watching Cars on repeat and swearing one day they'd cruise Route 66 themselves. Now, years later, Jack made it to F1 and Y/n has been climbing her way through F2, it finally happened — just the two of them, no team handlers, no cameras, no expectations. Just the road, the sun, and maybe a little too much nostalgia.

By the time the sun began bleeding pink and orange across the horizon, they decided to pull over at a neon-lit motel straight out of a postcard. "Bet Lightning McQueen stayed somewhere just like this." Y/n joked as they grabbed their bags from the trunk. "Yeah. Cozy Cones. Remember?" He said as they headed inside. "I don't know if it's impressive or sad that you know this." Inside, the clerk handed over a key with a too-wide smile. Room 12. First floor. The room was clean enough, decorated in faded desert-themed wallpaper. But there was one problem.

"Oh." Y/n said, pointing. "There's only one bed." Jack snorted, dropping his bag near the door. "I'll take the sofa." He said immediately, already making a beeline for the sad, lumpy excuse for a couch. "You sure?" She asked, even though the thought of squishing onto it herself made her bones ache just looking at it. "Yeah. Next motel, you can take the couch and I'll get the bed. Fair's fair, right?" Y/n laughed softly, tossing her bag onto the bed. "Deal."

As she flopped onto the mattress, Jack watched her for a second longer than necessary before shaking his head and grinning to himself. Maybe it was the summer air. Maybe it was the years of friendship. Or maybe, just maybe, there was something about this trip that was about to change everything.

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The little bell above the diner door jingled as Jack and Y/n pushed their way inside, the scent of fried bacon and burnt coffee immediately hitting them like a wall. The place looked like it hadn’t been updated since the '70s — all cracked leather booths and faded posters of the Grand Canyon. It had been four days into their road trip, and everything was going pretty smoothly.

They slumped into a booth by the window, sun pouring in through the blinds in slanted stripes across their table. A waitress who looked like she’d seen it all poured them each a cup of coffee without asking. Jack stared suspiciously at the brownish liquid in his mug before cautiously taking a sip. Immediately, he grimaced. "Jesus Christ." He muttered, setting the mug down like it had personally offended him. Y/n chuckled around a bite of crispy bacon. "You're just spoiled with your fancy Australian coffee." Jack wiped his mouth with a napkin, shooting her a wounded look. "It's not fancy. It's just... real coffee. This is battery acid."

After they ordered and their food came out, Jack took out his phone to text Liam. This had been a constant thing; making sure Liam Lawson knew what he was missing out on. Y/n just laughed as Jack read out his texts, spearing some hash browns onto her fork while casually scrolling on her phone with her free hand. Jack noticed how quiet she went for a second, thumb pausing over the screen. "You good?" He asked, lowering his voice so it didn’t carry across the almost empty diner. "Or do you want a minute alone with your toast?"

Y/n rolled her eyes without looking up. "Shut up." She said, grinning. "This—" She lifted a piece of golden, slightly burnt toast in salute. "This has been the best part of the trip so far." Jack's eyebrows furrowed. "Wow. Thanks. Nothing says bonding like bad diner food and emotional toast." She lifted her phone and aimed it at him just as he braved another sip of the coffee. The resulting face he made was perfect. "Delete that." Jack whined, leaning over the table in a futile attempt to grab it. "Not a chance." She teased, slipping it into her pocket safely. "Might make it my new screensaver."

After finishing up — Jack only managing half his breakfast thanks to the assault on his taste buds — they tossed a few crumpled bills onto the table and headed out into the already-blazing morning heat. Jack stretched his arms overhead as they walked back to the car. "Alright, co-pilot." He said, grinning at her. "Let’s hit the road. You can pick the next stop."Y/n slid into the passenger seat, sunglasses back on, toast in hand like a prized possession. This? This was exactly how she imagined the trip would be. Maybe even better.

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The afternoon sun beat down on the deserted gas station, shimmering off the blacktop like a mirage. After hours of music, singing badly at the top of their lungs, and throwing lighthearted digs back and forth, Jack finally swung the car into a gas station that looked like it hadn't seen a renovation since before Route 66 became famous. Y/n leaned her head against the window lazily, watching Jack hop out and start filling the tank.

She grinned at how ridiculously serious he looked about it. Why was he trying to act so non-chalant and lean against the car? She snorted and quickly snapped a candid photo without him noticing. "That's going in the photo dump." She mumbled to herself. When he came back around, wiping his hands on his jeans, she hopped out too. "Come on, Doohan. Let’s go find some snacks. I’m dying."

The inside of the gas station was exactly what you'd expect: dusty shelves, racks of neon-colored drinks, and a suspiciously empty hot dog stand. Y/n wandered down an aisle, eyes lighting up when she spotted a bright yellow box. "Oh my God!" She gasped, pointing. "Twinkies! I always wanted to try them as a kid ‘cause they were in every American movie ever." Jack laughed, nudging her forward. "Buy a packet. We'll do a proper review. But—" he added, holding up a finger. "’m getting donuts too. Just in case those things are terrible."

"You have no faith." She teased, tossing the Twinkies into their growing pile of junk food. After paying, they headed back to the car, arms loaded with snacks. Y/n set up her phone on the dashboard, angling it just right. "Alright." She said, dramatically clearing her throat. "Welcome to our very professional food review." Jack leaned closer to the camera, holding up the Twinkie like it was a lab experiment. "We’re risking our lives here." He deadpanned. With a laugh, they each unwrapped one. Y/n took a big bite first — and immediately made a face. Jack followed, chewing slowly before looking over to Y/n. "It’s... soggy." Y/n said through a half-laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Who eats this voluntarily?" Jack added, inspecting the inside like it might reveal some secret. "It’s like... cake that gave up." They both burst into laughter, Y/n turning off the recording to save it for later blackmail.

Jack tossed the rest of his Twinkie into a bag. "Alright, enough torture." He ripped open the donut bag dramatically and held it out to her. "Pick your salvation, Y/n." She beamed and carefully selected a sugar-coated one. "You’re a good man, Jack Doohan."

"I know." He said with a smirk as he started the car again, pulling back onto the road. "And I don’t even make you eat soggy sadness anymore." Y/n bit into the donut and leaned back in her seat, feeling the warm sugar stick to her fingers and the corners of her mouth. "This....this is unreal." She murmured as Jack started up the far and made their way to the next motel.

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It had been Jack’s idea to start skipping motel stays — too much time lost, too much money wasted, and honestly, the back seat wasn’t that uncomfortable. Plus, the goal was to see Route 66, not nap through it in dingy motels. So now, they took turns at the wheel, switching whenever the other got too tired. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was theirs — and somehow that made it perfect. It was just past 4:00 a.m. when Y/n took over driving, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she climbed into the driver's seat. Jack, still sprawled across the passenger seat with a hoodie thrown over his face, didn’t stir.

The road was quiet, empty, almost sacred, and the early morning light started to spill over the horizon, casting the world in soft pinks and oranges. Y/n’s breath caught. She couldn’t just drive past this. Without a second thought, she eased the car onto the shoulder, throwing it into park. Carefully, she climbed out, the cool morning air biting at her skin as she crossed in front of the car and perched herself on the bonnet.

Jack stirred, mumbling something incoherent before pushing the hoodie off his face. His brows furrowed in confusion at the stillness, the stopped car, and then he caught sight of her through the windshield. She was sitting there, legs dangling over the edge of the bonnet, head tilted back to watch the sky set itself on fire with color. Jack stayed frozen for a second, something tugging deep in his chest. He didn’t know what it was. Didn’t really want to know either. It felt too big, too dangerous, too...real.

When she turned and caught him looking, she smiled all sleepy and soft, so completely her and Jack felt his own mouth tug into a slow, helpless smile in return. Without a word, he pushed open the door and joined her, climbing up onto the hood beside her and wrapping the blanket they bought at a store a few miles back around her. They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, legs brushing accidentally now and then. "You ever think." Y/n said quietly, resting her hands behind her to lean back a little. "That we’re just tiny specks driving through the middle of nowhere... and none of it matters, but also, somehow, it matters so much?" Jack chuckled, shooting her a sideways glance. "That’s deep for six in the morning."

"Yeah, well." She shrugged. "Sunrises make me philosophical." Jack tilted his head back to watch the colors shift and melt into each other across the sky. "Remind me to never let you get coffee and existential dread at the same time." Y/n laughed, bumping her shoulder lightly against his. It sent a spark of something straight through him, something he couldn’t name.

The sun finally broke the horizon in full, setting the world aglow, and Y/n stretched, hopping off the bonnet with a soft thud. "Alright." She said, brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Next diner’s my treat." Jack followed her to the car, still feeling... off-balance. Or maybe it was something else entirely. He watched as she slid into the driver’s seat, already queuing up another chaotic playlist. And for the first time all trip, Jack realized he wasn’t in a rush for this to end. Not even a little bit.

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They pulled into the small, neon-lit motel just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in dusky shades of violet and gold.

The trip was nearing its end — just a few more days, a few more pit stops — and both of them were starting to feel it. The ache in their backs, the miles racking up, the way the car seemed to have developed its own smell. Still, they couldn’t help but grin as they hauled their bags toward the front office.

Y/n opened their room door first, stepping inside and immediately letting out a long, dramatic groan. "You're kidding me." Jack peeked over her shoulder, laughing when he saw the single, slightly lumpy-looking double bed. "Déjà vu." He teased, tossing his bag near the sofa. "I promised I’d take the sofa this time." Y/n said, half-laughing, half-resigned. Jack shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. "Doesn't matter to me." Y/n dropped her bag with a sigh, rubbing her arms. "It's freezing. No way either of us is surviving on that couch tonight. Just—" She waved her hand vaguely. "Get in the bed. Stay on your side, Doohan." He mock-saluted. "Yes, ma'am." Rolling her eyes fondly, Y/n grabbed her stuff and headed for the shower, muttering something about needing to defrost.

Jack flopped onto the bed with a quiet laugh, tugging his phone from his pocket. Unsurprisingly, Liam had already blown up his texts.

Liam Another motel?? Are u guys secretly married yet or??

Jack Might as well be

Jack One bed again

Liam OH MY GODDDD. It’s happening. FINALLY.

Jack It’s not happening. Shut up.

Liam Jack. My guy. My brother in Christ. You’re literally in love with her.

Jack stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. After a second, he just locked the phone, flipping it screen-down onto the nightstand and tossing his arm over his face. Because... maybe Liam wasn’t wrong. Not that he was about to admit it. The sound of the bathroom door opening made Jack sit up.

Y/n padded out, hair damp and tucked into a towel, wearing a hoodie so oversized it practically swallowed her and a pair of baggy sweats. She looked... effortless. Sleepy. Soft. Jack’s heart did something he refused to examine. She crawled onto her side of the bed, grabbing the remote and flipping through channels until she found some old sitcom. It filled the room with low, easy noise. "Ever notice the TV here is so shit?" Jack chuckled as he watched along. They stayed like that for a while — just two idiots lying stiffly on their designated halves of the bed, pretending the occasional glance wasn't happening.

Jack chuckled under his breath when Y/n's head started to slowly tilt, her eyes drooping shut. She mumbled something unintelligible, leaning against his shoulder with a heavy sigh. Jack froze, heart hammering against his ribs. Carefully, so carefully, he reached up, slipping the towel from her hair and tossing it aside. She barely stirred when he shifted her, guiding her gently onto the pillow. Jack stayed sitting there for a second, just looking at her — the little crease between her brows, the way her hoodie strings had gotten tangled. His chest ached in a way that was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. He lay back finally, staring up at the ceiling, feeling like he might float right out of his skin.

"Bloody hell." He muttered under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. Because it wasn’t just a crush. It wasn’t just some road trip banter. He was completely, hopelessly in love with Y/n. And he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do about it.

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Jack twirled the car keys around his finger as they tossed their bags into the backseat. He grinned over at Y/n. "Since we’re way ahead of schedule, thanks to my genius." He emphasized, earning a playful shove from her. "What do you say we make a little detour?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, arms crossed as she leaned against the car. "Depends. Where to?" He wiggled his brows. "Lake Havasu." She blinked, caught off guard, then shrugged with a grin. "Dunno where that is mate, but let's go."

The drive wasn’t too far, and when they finally pulled up to the lake, both of them sat there for a second, wide-eyed.

The water glittered like a mirror, reflecting the burning orange and purple hues of the setting sun. Mountains loomed in the distance, and the air was fresh and cool against their skin after a day cooped up in the car. Jack was about to say something when he heard a rustle. He turned just in time to see Y/n peel off her shirt, tossing it onto the passenger seat in a heap, before sprinting full-speed toward the water in her shorts and sports bra. "Oi! Wait for me!" He called after her, but that didn’t stop him from stripping off his hoodie and chasing after her.

The water hit like a shock at first, but once they were waist-deep, it felt perfect. They swam lazily for a bit, tossing splashes at each other and trading half-hearted threats. It wasn’t long before things turned chaotic. Y/n tried to dunk Jack, Jack retaliated by sweeping her clean off her feet and hoisting her onto his shoulders with an obnoxious, victorious yell. "Put me down, you menace!" Y/n shrieked, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Jack just stood there in the water, holding her firmly, laughing like it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

Eventually, they both calmed, settling into a quiet sort of awe as the sun sank even lower, painting the sky in fire. Y/n sat on his shoulders, her hands loosely resting in his damp hair, watching the colors change. Her heart was hammering against her chest, and she didn’t know why. She glanced down at Jack, expecting him to be goofing off or trying to splash her again, but instead, he was just smiling softly at the horizon, totally content. Something about it made her chest ache. She scolded herself silently, looking back out at the sky, willing the weird feeling away.

They trudged back to the car after drying off as best they could, laughing about how they probably smelled like lake water and cheap motel soap now. Changing quickly behind separate doors (with a lot of swearing about how their clothes stuck to their damp skin), they flopped back into their seats. "I’ll drive." Y/n offered, sliding behind the wheel as Jack shrugged and handed over the keys.

Before they’d even merged back onto the road, Jack was fast asleep in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest, hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends. Y/n adjusted her seat, the road stretching out endlessly in front of her, humming quietly to herself. But every so often, her eyes betrayed her, flickering over to Jack’s sleeping face. He looked peaceful, a little boyish, like he hadn’t a care in the world. At one red light, Y/n flipped down the sun visor, checking her reflection — and froze. Her cheeks were bright red. "Jesus Christ." She muttered, scrubbing her hands over her face like that might erase the flush. "Get a grip, woman." She shook her head at herself, sighing dramatically as the light turned green.

The tires rumbled against the highway again as she drove on, heart pounding just a little too fast for her own liking.

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The salty ocean breeze hit them the second they stepped out of the car. Y/n stretched her arms above her head, breathing it in. Jack slung his backpack over his shoulder and grinned. "Come on." He said, nudging her with his elbow. "We didn’t drive a thousand hours just to stand in the parking lot." The Santa Monica Pier loomed ahead of them, colorful and chaotic — music blasting, rides spinning, vendors shouting. It was perfect.

They wandered into the pier's amusement park, instantly swept up in the energy. Jack somehow managed to win her a teddy bear at a ring toss — she clutched it proudly for about five minutes until she turned around and absolutely smoked him at a water gun game, winning a bigger teddy bear for him. He pouted while she doubled over laughing. "You’re supposed to let me win." He protested, cradling the oversized bear. "You’re the one who said you were good at aiming." She teased, looping her arm through his.

They spent the next hour like that — arm in arm, heads tipping toward one another with each laugh, bodies bumping together naturally as they strolled through the crowds. Neither seemed to notice (or maybe neither wanted to acknowledge) how easy it all felt. Like breathing. As the sun dipped lower, they made their way to the Ferris wheel.

They climbed into one of the little cars, the clunk of the door closing behind them somehow making everything quieter. The higher they rose, the smaller the noise of the pier became until it was just the soft creak of the ride and the ocean breathing below them. Comfortable silence stretched between them. Jack sat back, chewing the inside of his lip nervously. Y/n fiddled with the hem of her hoodie, sneaking glances at him from under her lashes. Both of them, silently, thinking the same thing: say something. Anything. "We should take a photo. To mark the end of the trip." Y/n blurted out.

Jack looked relieved at the distraction. "Yeah. Good shout." They set up her phone on the little seat across from them, the timer blinking. Jack draped an arm around her, and they smiled...or tried to. The photo came out looking stiff — their smiles too polite, their bodies too tense, like two people trying too hard not to show they were a little scared. Y/n cracked up first, snatching the phone up. "We look like two strangers who lost a bet." Jack chuckled, leaning over her shoulder to look, and she realized how close he was.

His breath brushed her cheek.

The laughter faded.

The world outside the cart blurred, the ocean, the lights, the people — none of it mattered.

Just him. Just her.

Without thinking too much about it — terrified if she did think too much she'd chicken out — Y/n leaned in and closed the gap. Jack froze for a heartbeat, then melted into it, his hand instinctively finding the back of her neck to hold her there like he was afraid she’d slip away. The kiss was soft, tentative, two people who knew each other so well but were still discovering this new part. When they finally pulled apart, Jack looked dazed but lighter, like he’d finally exhaled after holding his breath for miles and miles..Y/n smirked, bumping his knee with hers. "We should probably try that photo again."

He laughed — an easy, boyish laugh that made her stomach flip — and they posed again. This time, the smiles were real. Jack’s arm didn’t leave her shoulders. If anything, it pulled her in closer, until her head rested against his. The Ferris wheel kept spinning lazily, the sunset bleeding into deep purple and blue. Jack leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. "I like you." He whispered, voice low and rough, like it physically hurt him to keep it in any longer. Y/n tilted her head, looking at him. "Too bad. Because I love you." She said eith a soft smile. Jack let out a breath, a disbelieving laugh. "Jesus, Y/n, you couldn't have led with that?" She chuckled, resting her forehead against his. "It’s been fifteen years since we first met, Jack. I figured you needed a little drama to spice up the story."

[the-offside-rule]

Ferran Torres (FCBarcelona) - Profesora

Requested: yes

Warnings: none

The soft glow of the Barcelona morning sun seeped into the kitchen of the lavish home Y/n shared with Ferran. As she sipped her coffee, still dressed in her pajamas, Ferran strolled into the kitchen, already clad in his training gear. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his signature grin lighting up his face. "You’re up early" He teased. "What is on the agenda today?" Y/n chuckled and shook her head. "If by ‘agenda,’ you mean trying to keep them from talking about your game all day, then that." Ferran’s grin widened. "Oh, come on. Let them enjoy it! We worked hard for that win."

"You don’t understand." She sighed dramatically, setting her mug down. "The minute I walk in, it’s going to be ‘Miss Y/n, did you see the goal?’ or ‘Miss Y/n, Ferran is the best player ever!’ They’ll get so excited that no one will focus on math, reading, anything."

"And that’s bad because?" Ferran teased, leaning on the counter. "Because if I let them go wild, no work will ever get done." She shot back, though she was smiling. "Maybe they just need a little football-themed math or something." Ferran suggested. "I’ve tried that. It turns into chaos." Ferran laughed and shrugged. "Just let kids be kids, Y/n. They’ll remember these moments more than anything else." She rolled her eyes affectionately. "Easy for you to say. You don’t have to manage twenty little humans every day." Ferran winked and grabbed his bag. "Have fun, professora. See you later."

At school, the day unfolded exactly as Y/n predicted. The moment she walked into the classroom, a cacophony of little voices erupted.

"Viste el partido, señorita?" (Did you watch the game, Miss?)

"Ferran metió un gol increíble!"

"Barça es el mejor equipo del mundo!" (Barça is the best team in the world!)

She raised her hands for silence, forcing a smile as she addressed them in her calm, teacherly tone. "Sí, sí, el partido fue increíble. Pero ahora necesitamos concentrarnos. Hoy vamos a repasar matemáticas y luego leeremos un cuento. De acuerdo?" The students groaned but reluctantly opened their books as Y/n turned to write on the whiteboard.

Just as the classroom settled into its routine, a knock at the door startled Y/n. She looked up, and her breath caught in her throat. Standing there, looking smug and entirely too handsome, was Ferran Torres. The room erupted in squeals of delight. "Ferran!" The kids chorused, jumping out of their seats. Y/n crossed her arms and walked over to him, her tone firm but laced with affection. "Qué haces aquí, señor Torres?" Y/n asked. She hadn't told the children she was with a football player. Not only was it none of their business, but she wanted to minimise the whole 'talking about football non-stop' thing they had going on. Ferran grinned. "Solo una visita, professora." (I'm just visiting, teacher). He shot her a wink. "Las visitas necesitan aprobación de la directora." (Visits must be approved by the principle). She reminded him, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"Ya llam�� a la directora." (I called her). He said, holding up his phone. "Me dio permiso." (I'm allowed). Before she could protest, Ferran stepped inside, immediately surrounded by the kids. He crouched down, greeting each of them with a warm smile and engaging in little conversations. "Tú juegas al fútbol?" (Do you play football?) He asked one boy. "Sí, soy delantero, como tú." (Yes, I'm a forward, just like you). The boy replied proudly. "Muy bien! Sigue practicando." (Very good, keepy practicing). Ferran encouraged, ruffling the boy’s hair. Y/n watched from her desk, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile. Ferran had a natural way with the kids, his charisma effortlessly winning them over.

Eventually, he joined her at the front of the class, leaning over her desk. "Ves? Esto no está tan mal." (See? It wasnt that bad). He teased in a low voice. She sighed. "No, pero ahora soy yo quien no puede concentrarse." (No, but now I can't concentrate). Ferran laughed, and for the rest of the morning, he stayed by her side, helping with the lesson and even reading a story to the class. By the time he left, the students were buzzing with excitement, and for once, Y/n was happy he was going.

As she walked him to the door, she whispered. "Gracias por esto. Pero la próxima vez, avísame primero." (Thank you for this, but next tine let me know in advance). He turned, leaning against the door, towering over her. "Y perderme esta reacción? Ni hablar." (And miss your reaction? No way). With one last smile, Ferran left, leaving Y/n to finish her day with a classroom full of beaming children—and the undeniable realization that maybe, just maybe, letting kids be kids wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

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Hi so um.....I didn't mean to post twice today.....I woke up to like.....400 notifications and J was like "oh shit wrote a good fic at long last" and then found out I double posted for the McLaren girlie's......so

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Oscar Piastri (McLaren) - Miss Possessive

Requested: yes

Warnings: jealous!reader

Note: this has made me wanna do McLaren drivers x Tate McRae songs so like....the Indy boys, f1 boys and then idk maybe Alex or something too with Tate McRae inspired fics what we thinking??

The bass thumped through the Monaco club like a heartbeat, the air thick with sweat, champagne, and victory. Oscar Piastri sat in the corner booth, one arm stretched across the back of the seat, drink in hand, eyes still sparkling from his P3 finish earlier that day. Y/n sat beside him, legs crossed, sipping her cocktail and basking in the post-race glow. It had been a perfect day—until she showed up.

One of Magui’s friends. Y/n didn’t catch her name, just the way she leaned too close when she spoke, how she laughed a bit too loud at things Oscar barely said, and how her hand always seemed to find its way to his arm. At first, Y/n let it slide. Oscar didn’t like it when she got too possessive, and truthfully, she didn’t either. But this wasn’t innocent flirting. This was a challenge.

Y/n watched carefully as the girl slid in beside Oscar, her laughter now high-pitched and deliberate. She said something Y/n couldn’t quite hear, and Oscar, ever polite, just gave a small smile. Then the girl placed her arm around the back of the booth, fingers brushing against Oscar’s shoulders like she had some sort of claim.

That....was.....it.

Y/n leaned in, voice calm but firm. "You comfortable there, yeah?" The girl looked up, clearly surprised. "Sorry?" She asked. "Are you-"

"No, I'm being serious. Get your hands off my man." My man? Where the hell did that come out of? "I’m just being friendly." She said with a forced laugh. Y/n’s expression didn’t change. "I’m all for friendly. I was friendly too, right before I got Oscar. But this?" Her eyes flicked to the girl's hand. "This isn’t friendly. So how about you back off and know your place." The girl blinked, scoffing. "You need to calm down." She turned to Oscar as if hoping for backup. "She’s very possessive." Oscar’s response was easy, slow, deliberate. He rested a hand on Y/n’s thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. "Yeah." He said with a soft smile. "She’s Miss Possessive."

The girl paused, realization finally dawning. With a flick of her hair and a dramatic eye-roll, she stood and walked off. Y/n exhaled, ready to return to her drink, but Oscar’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her close. He leaned down, lips brushing her ear. "What you just did?" He murmured. "It did something to me." Y/n took a sip, trying not to let the smirk show too quickly. "Yeah?" His hand was climbing higher up her thigh now, fingers trailing with intention. He pressed a kiss to her neck. "We should probably get out of here." She didn’t need to be told twice.

Grinning, she stood and grabbed his hand. As they weaved through the crowded club, Y/n made a detour to Magui and Lando, who were laughing near the DJ booth. "We’re heading out!" She said casually, but loud enough for someone else nearby to hear. "Oscar and I are going to celebrate in our own way. I’ll see you both at breakfast?" Magui grinned knowingly. "Can’t wait."

Y/n shot one last look over her shoulder, meeting the other girl’s eyes for half a second before turning away with Oscar’s hand tight in hers. Together, they disappeared into the Monaco night—ready to finish the celebration in private.

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Lando Norris (McLaren) - Good (?) Morning

Requested: yes

Prompt: Lando as a puppy dad!!!

Warnings: none

The morning was supposed to be perfect. Lando had just come back from Hungary, and Y/n had been waiting for this moment—just the two of them, tangled up in bed, making up for lost time for the next three weeks. The early morning light streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over the sheets as Lando’s hands roamed over her skin, his lips trailing a path down her neck. Everything was going exactly as planned.

Until a small, high-pitched whimper echoed through the room.

Y/n tensed, her eyes snapping open. Lando groaned against her collarbone, his grip tightening around her waist. "Ignore her." He mumbled. "She’ll settle." Another whimper. Then the unmistakable sound of tiny paws scrambling against the side of the bed. Y/n sighed, running a hand over her face. "Lando, she needs to go out." He barely lifted his head. "She’ll be fine until we’re finished."

Y/n huffed, shoving at his shoulder. "We’re going to get a noise complaint if she starts barking 'cause she never stops when she starts." Lando smirked, looking up at her through lazy, hooded eyes. "If we’re getting a noise complaint, I’d rather give the neighbours a real reason to complain." Y/n rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder. "You behave yourself."

"That’s not what you were saying two minutes ago." He teased, pressing a kiss to her jaw. She groaned and sat up, glaring at the small, wiggling ball of fur staring up at her from the floor. Lilly, their new puppy, wagged her tail expectantly, clearly unimpressed with being ignored. "Right-" Y/n sighed, throwing the blankets off. "I’ll take her out. You make the tea." Lando groaned dramatically, flopping onto his back. "You always give me the worst jobs." Y/n shot him a look as she picked up Lilly. "Tea is the worst job?"

"Compared to staying in bed with you? Absolutely." She kissed his cheek before walking out. "You’ll survive, big man."

By the time Lando returned with two mugs of tea, expecting to pick up where they left off, he stopped in the doorway and let out an exasperated sigh. Y/n was curled up in bed, wrapped in the blankets, with Lilly snuggled up against her chest, both of them fast asleep. Lando stared for a second, then huffed a quiet laugh. "Unbelievable." He muttered, setting the mugs down on the nightstand.

He climbed back into bed, pressing a soft kiss to Y/n’s forehead before wrapping an arm around them both. Maybe his homecoming hadn't gone exactly as planned… but at least he was home.

[the-offside-rule]

same smile