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httpsdana · 8 months

Note

HI BABY ITS ME AGAIN

i’ve come with my Ferran requests again 😋😋

can you do it when the reader and Ferran have just started staying over at each others places and she forgot stuff to wear as she wasn’t going to stay as he brought her home after getting cold and rained on at the barca game and then this prompt

51-"is that my hoodie?" "no, not anymore."

and them just cuddling till pedri calls and she sees his lockscreen

127-"Am I your lock screen ?" "You weren't supposed to see that."

and then it just ends all cute and fluffy

thank you mi chica te amo 🩷

Obsessed With You~Ferran Torres

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

She always gives me the best ideas wtf? enjoy bbg <3

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

51-"is that my hoodie?" "no not anymore"

127-"am I your lockscreen?" "you weren't supposed to see that"

"LET'S GO!!!" y/n yelled as soon as her boyfriend had the ball in the back of the net

She started taking pictures of him celebrating, before he pointed towards her and blew her a kiss. She waved at him and blew him a kiss back

They haven't been together for too long, but long enough for her to join him during his matches.

She put her phone in her pocket when the players were back to their game. Suddenly she felt a few drops of water on the top of her head.

"oh god its raining" Anna, Lewandowski's wife, said from next to her. They sat back in their seats, as they had shields above their heads.

When the match ended, it was still raining, but they went down to the pitch either ways.

"Amor. I'm so proud of you" y/n said, wrapping her arms around Ferran's neck, hugging him tightly

"gracias bébé" he said back, hugging her tighter, before taking off his jersey and covering her head with it

"let's go to mine yeah? its closer and I don't want my girl to catch a cold" he put his arm around her neck and started walking to the tunnel

"I don't have any clothes Fer. you should've told me I'm staying at yours" she said, in which Ferran only shook his head

"doesn't matter" he shrugged his shoulders and walked them to his car

The drive to Ferran's apartment was silent, with music playing in the background, and Ferran holding y/n's hand all the way home in his own

y/n was now feeling cold from the water on her skin and clothes. As soon as Ferran parked his car, she rushed to the door, waiting for him to come with key

When he opened the door, y/n rushed inside. Ferran chuckled and locked the door behind him.

A few minutes later, y/n came back to where Ferran was sitting, fresh and warm clothes on this time

"is that my hoodie?" Ferran asked, as soon as his eyes dropped on her, with a small smile on his face

"no, not anymore" y/n said, dropping next to him on the couch

He laughed at her, going to put his arm around her, but she only pushed him back

"as much as cuddling feels really warm right now. you stink. go shower" she pulled on a disgusted face, making him act offended

"I do not stink!" he placed a hand on his chest making y/n laugh at his face

"just get up and take a shower silly" she pushed him off the couch, and he eventually got up

y/n was watching a show on the tv, until Ferran's phone started to ring. She glanced at it, not wanting to invade his privacy. She saw Pedri's name, until it stopped ringing. She noticed the background of Ferran's phone. It was a picture of her, she didn't know existed. It was taken during the picnic she and Ferran had a few days back. She was staring at the rose that Ferran had gotten her.

She turned his phone off, her face flushed as she thinks about the new facts she had just learned. She then acted as if nothing happened, waiting for Ferran to come back. When he came back, he flopped down next to her, pulling her closer to him

"see. now you smell much better" she nuzzled her head into his neck, making him laugh

She was about to tell him that Pedri called, when his phone started ringing again. He reached out for it, answering it. He spoke with Pedri for a few minutes before hanging up, and placing his phone on the table, her picture still on display

"am I your lockscreen?" she asked, looking at his phone before looking up at him. His face was now red, while he scratched the back of his neck

"you weren't supposed to see that" he mumbled, avoiding her eyes

"you're so cute" she cooed, grabbing his cheeks in her hands. She squished his cheeks before pecking his lips a few times

"okay stop it" he laughed, pushing her hands away and pulling her down to his chest again.

"its nice to see that I'm not the only one obsessed here" she joked earning a groan from Ferran

"I'm not obsessed with you" he said, obviously lying

"you obviously are" she rolled her eyes jokily

"okay maybe a little bit" he murmured, making her giggle.

"I love you" she looked up at him, gazing into his beautiful eyes

"I love you more darling"

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severalforraelee · 1 year

Text

Max’s Reaction: Prove It Short Story

Prompt: I was rereading Prove it for like the thousandth time and was wondering if you could do a blurb maybe of Max finding out about the labor! Like his reaction and rushing to get to you! And maybe some of Rowan's first like word and steps! I absolutely love your writing!!

Written by raelee / Posted Mar 19

Word count: 2,329

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

Prove It Masterlist

Max’s POV

I stare down at my phone screen, tapping it awake for what feels like the millionth time in the past five minutes. It shows my lockscreen, a picture I took of Y/N when she wasn’t looking because I knew that if she saw me taking it, she would yell at me. She’s looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush halfway in her mouth with foam falling from her lips. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail, my Red Bull T-shirt falling to her mid-thigh and hugging the top of her baby bump. It’s her freshly woken in the morning getting ready for the day. I took this photo without her knowing because, In her words, she looks tired and gross in the morning. But it’s her, and that’s why I love it so much.

I’ve been trying not to contact Y/N every five minutes, knowing how exhausted she must be with the arrival of our son coming at any minute. But I feel anxious just from being away from her, despite it being for something as good as winning the Formula 1 Drivers World Championship. Hell, I’m even feeling exhausted from all of the worry.

“Max.”

I snap my head up at my PR officer’s irritated tone, giving her a sheepish look while she gives me an annoyed one.

“Did you hear anything that I just said to you?”

“No,” I admit.

She sighs, starting from the beginning. Truthfully, I don’t care what she’s saying. I don’t care what anyone’s saying to me. I just want to rush through everything that I have to unfortunately do after winning the second world championship before I can go home to my family.

Her sighing again snaps me out of my thoughts of holding my girl in my arms, and soon, my son.

“Max, you realize that the sooner you do this, the sooner that you can leave to go be with her?” She points out.

I nod, standing up to follow her to the filming room.

“Morning,” I sit down at the conference table, staring down at the hot coffee cup in my hands. I didn’t even add any sugar or creamer this morning, my mind completely preoccupied by the conversation that I had with Y/N last night.

I wish more than anything that I could be there with her. Hearing the anxiety in her voice as she asks when I’m coming home, reassuring me just to get my work done so that she doesn’t cause me any more anxiety than I’m already feeling makes me feel like shit. It makes me feel like a bad partner for even putting her in this situation, and a bad father for making my son’s mother feel so unsure.

I want her to feel valued. I want to be by her side, but it’s so hard when there’s so much pressure from everyone in the Formula 1 world. From fans to the crew at Red Bull racing to the FIA to other teams, everyone expects me to be celebrating right now. They’re expecting me to do media duties by day and celebratory duties, also known as getting wasted, by night. And I can’t help but give in to that pressure, not wanting to let down the tons of people relying on me.

“You’ve been awfully quiet over there, Maxie,” Christian calls across the table.

I swallow the lump in my throat, nodding. I open my mouth to speak before realizing just how dry my throat is, raising my coffee to my lips and taking a sip.

“Just wishing that I was with Y/N,” I confess.

Everyone at the table freezes at my words. They all know that the reason why I’ve been so calm about this championship as compared to my last one is because of the unknown delivery date of my son. But I’ve never really talked about it with anyone at Red Bull, wanting to keep such vulnerable emotions somewhat secretive.

Christian nods in understanding. He knows what it’s like to balance being a father and working in such a chaotic environment.

“Tell you what, let’s rush through what we have planned for today, get the things that we have to do tomorrow done today, then we can get you on a plane tonight and send you back to be with your missus?” He questions.

I nod in excitement, heart fluttering as he refers to Y/N as my missus.

Someday she will be.

My phone dings as the meeting comes to an end and I’m rising from the office chair.

“You know, we’ll get things done faster if you don’t have that to distract you all day,” my PR officer lets me know.

I pull it out of my pocket, handing it to her before rushing out the room without another word.

At the time, I was just so enthusiastic to start the media duties and other things that I have to do, wanting to get them done as quickly as possible, that I didn’t even think to check who was texting me or what it said.

If I did, I would’ve seen the first text of many that Y/N sent me. I would’ve turned around, ran out of the Red Bull complex, and gotten the hell out of Milton Keynes.

If I didn’t put so much pressure on myself to fulfill the duties of a world champion, I could’ve been there for the birth of my son.

It isn’t until I get my phone back half a day later- time slipping away from me without the device being on me and being hidden away in dark rooms for the media that I realize what happened.

“Hey, Max, Daniel walked in while I was having contractions and we’re on our way to the birthing center now. Call me back when you get this.” Her voice fills my ears as I ride the plane back to Italy to be with my family.

I wish I could fly this plane myself to get back there faster.

“I’ve been getting contractions about every- what did you say earlier, Daniel, every five minutes? Yeah, every five minutes, and contractions are lasting about a minute each. I’m five centimeters dilated. The predicted birth is in four to eight hours, so you still have time to get here.”

I listen to the one from Daniel next. “Hey, Max, Y/N’s in labor, as you probably know from the dozens of phone calls, texts, and voicemails that we’ve both left you,” he lets out a fake chuckle, “Funny story, Nurse Emma- you know Nurse Emma, right? She asked if the dad was going to be joining us for the birth and you know what I told her? I told her that he’s a-”I end that voicemail with a wince before it can get to the surely explicit part.

My fingers tremble as I click on the next voicemail. “This is the last time that I’m calling you, Max, if you wanted to be here by now you would be. The doctor just left to make sure everything is ready for our son’s arrival and when she gets back I’m going to start pushing. Hope getting media done was worth it.”

I just delete the one from Charles, already knowing that it’s not going to be a pleasant one to listen to. But I can’t blame him. I left one of his best friend’s and the mother of my child to go through one of the most traumatic and important moments of her life alone.

Well, she has Daniel with her, but if he wasn’t there- I shake my head, not wanting to go there.

I stare out the window, willing the plane to go faster. From the texts and calls, I know that she’s already had the baby. I wish I could be there with them both, holding and meeting my son and reassuring my partner that she did an amazing job.

And I’m sure she did, but I feel like shit for not even knowing that. I want to know all of the gritty details of the labor. I want to know if she needed any stitches, how loud our son cried when he came out, if he’s latching on properly.

But I’m the only one to blame for missing out on that experience.

I run through the hallways of the birthing center, wanting to get to her as fast as possible. The bouquet of red roses that my assistant greeted me as soon as I got off the plane to give to her is gripped tightly in my fist, the anxiety of seeing her reaction and holding our son for the first time causing me to hold them a little tighter than I’d prefer to.

Charles points at me as soon as I enter. “No.”

My eyes slide past him, focusing on her lying on the bed. She looks exhausted, hair messy and bags under her eyes but she’s never looked so beautiful. She looks so disheveled because she’s a mom. She’s a mom to our son.

Despite the clear anger and resentment in her eyes at the sight of me, I fall even more in love at the sight of her.

The guilt of not being there with them for the birth encourages me to work even harder to repair the relationship with Y/N and to spend more time bonding with Rowan. And it works, because I’m there for his first word.

As unfortunate as a first word it may be.

“Who am I, Rowan?” Charles holds the eleven month old baby in his arms, something that I’m already grumpy about. I can’t take him from Charles' arms, though, because he cries every time I try.

I hate this obsession-with-Uncle-Charles phase.

“Who am I?” He coos to the baby, bouncing him up and down in his arms in a playful action. “Am I Uncle Charles? Can you say Uncle Charles?”

“Cha,” Rowan cheers, clapping his hands in excitement at the attention from his uncle.

I freeze at his words. Y/N pauses her conversation with Carlos. Charles' face just- ugh, shows the arrogance of a man who’s name was the first word of a baby. Specifically his rival’s baby.

“Was that his first word?” Y/N questions, staring with wide eyes at Rowan as he stares back at his mom.

“No, Cha is not a word,” I immediately disagree, shaking my head.

Truthfully, I just don’t want my kid’s first word to be my rival’s name.

“Say it again, Rowan, say Charles,” Charles encourages, excitement lacing his tone.

“Cha,” Rowan repeats.

Carlos, Charles, and Y/N- then quickly after, Rowan, erupt into cheers, hollering at Rowan’s first official word.

“Good job, baby,” Y/N coos, leaning down to press kisses all over his face.

I suppose I’ll give Charles a win with this one.

And I’m there for his first steps.

As unfortunate as they may be, too.

“Little man’s not walking yet?” It’s one of the few times that Lewis and I actually get along. When we’re talking about Rowan.

“He’s working on it, he just gets so nervous,” I explain. We both watch as he pulls himself up on the chair in the hotel lobby, doing it with ease because of how often he does it at home.

“Come here, Rowan,” Lando grins, bending down and opening his arms for the thirteen month old to come to.

The blonde baby eyes him curiously, looking down at his feet, as if he’s wondering if they actually work.

“Don’t look at your feet, kid, that’ll sike you out,” Daniel advises, bending down beside Lando and opening his arms. “Come to Uncle Daniel.”

“Daniel, let me have this moment with him,” Lando whines.

“May I remind you-”Lando groans at the piece of information that Daniel loves to bring up every chance he gets. “He is named after me.”

“Just his middle name.”

“Still. He’s named after me.”

“Uh, guys?” Lewis’ tone cuts out the fight.

We all turn to see Rowan hobbling unsurely towards his uncles.

On two feet.

We erupt into cheers, startling the rest of the lobby.

“He just took his first steps,” Daniel informs everyone like a proud parent. The rest of the lobby erupts into cheers as well.

Rowan reaches Lando and the Brit pulls the little boy into his arms, rising to his feet and throwing him in the air playfully.

“Look at you go, mate.”

Rowan giggles at the compliment.

“Y/N,” I holler, looking around me to find my beautiful partner. “Y/N- wait, where is she?”

“Shit,” Daniel’s eyes are wide, “She’s still in that meeting.”

“Oh shit,” I rub my forehead in stress, “Okay, this never happened, okay? She will be so upset if she found out she missed his first steps. The next time she’s around and takes his first steps, we’re treating that as his first steps, got it?”

The three other drivers nod in agreement, knowing how momentous first steps are to a mother. Especially a first time mother.

Y/N exits the elevator, Carlos and Charles following her after their Ferrari meeting has ended.

An elderly woman stops in front of Y/N, patting her on the arm gently. “Congratulations on your son’s first steps.”

She leaves before we can say anything and Y/N stands there, eyes wide and jaw dropped.

“I missed his first steps?”

“No,” Charles cries from behind her, his face in his hands.

“Charles, are you- are you crying?” Daniel asks.

“I just can’t believe I missed his first steps. He should’ve been walking towards his favorite uncle.”

“He was walking towards his favorite uncle,” Lando chimes in, “He was walking towards me.”

“May I remind you,” Daniel interrupts, “He was named after me.”

Eye rolls and groans are heard around the group, Carlos even throwing a water bottle that hits him right in the nuts.

#formula 1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #sfrproveit

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tonnerredebrest · 2 years

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Mick with Angie and Roscoe, that's I don't have anything else.

Ok, I can do that! I love how Mick is a dog dad, and also the first F1 driver featured on Roscoe’s Instagram!

Let's assume Mick is talking to Angie in German here, even tho I wrote in English. Sadly, I'm not confident enough in my German to try to write in Goethe’s language.

(I am also not an expert in dog behaviour. AO3 link at the bottom, as always.)

*****

When Mick found Roscoe in the paddock at the English Grand Prix, he was more than delighted.

“Roscoe!” The driver almost squealed, running to greet the dog.

The latter joyfully barfed, wagging his little tail.

“Hey, man. Don't pull too much on the leash,” Lewis joked, enjoying seeing how his dog was fond of another driver.

Roscoe didn't seem to care about that comment. The Haas driver got to the dog’s level and started to gently pet him. Roscoe seemed to tremendously enjoy the pats, as he was always looking for more.

“Who’s a good boy, eh,” Mick used that baby voice pets seemed to like. “Ooooh, you very good boy.”

Roscoe barfed happily, trying to lick the human's hands. Mick chuckled, Roscoe’s rasp tongue was tickling him. He spend another couple of minutes playing with him, will Lewis was filming.

“He likes you, man,” the Mercedes driver said as he was sending the German pics and videos. “I didn't see him being this playful with anyone in the paddock.”

“I guess it's because he smells Angie on me,” Mick shrugged, not having really been thinking about it until now.

“She’s your dog, right?” Lewis asked, as he had heard him mention her a few times before.

“Yeah, she's my best friend!” He beamed just by thinking about her. “You’ll see her in Austria.”

“Can’t wait!” The Mercedes driver said, putting his phone back in his pocket.

Roscoe could only barf in agreement.

-----

Mick was getting tired of all this climbing. The team had told him it would be a little walk, but he should have anticipated a little walk in the Alps won’t be on a flat road. He didn't take his mountain shoes, so he was afraid he’ll slip on some wet grass or stone. Yet, seeing Angie happily wagging her tail, going on the trail before him, made this whole operation more than worth it.

“Angie, wait for me,” he said between uneven breaths. “You’re far more faster than me here.”

The dog continued to walk at the same speed, making Mick smile. She was glad to explore new environments, and he could always catch up when she’ll stop to sniff a flower or other plant. Behind him, a Haas mechanic laughed at the interaction. Mick didn't mind, he knew people were sometimes surprised to see him talk to Angie. She was his best friend, how could he not speak to her?

“Careful, there’s a ravine not far,” the mechanic warned, and Mick nodded.

Yet, he didn't call Angie back. She was a smart girl, he had educated her well. He was sure she won't fall.

They continued their merry way up the mountain until they reached what seemed to be the top. The view was beautiful. From up there, they could see the valley and the track. Angie was carefully stepping on the stones, sniffing around, maybe to find some sunbathing lizard.

Mick took out his phone to take some pictures. They were beautiful, but something was missing.

“Angie, come here!” He called her, and she came as fast as she could.

The dog was wagging her tail, giving him puppy eyes. She wanted some head pats, and Mick couldn't refuse.

“Oh yes, who's a good girl, you're a good girl Angie,” he still baby-talked his dog, even if she was years out of her puppy phase.

That evening, the team photographer, who was also part of the expedition team, send him some pics. They were all of him and Angie, with the beautiful Austrian Alps in the background. Mick realised what was missing in the photos he had taken. His best friend wasn't in them. The driver smiled and chose one to put on his phone’s lockscreen. That way, Angie would always be with him.

-----

Mick had decided to take Angie with him to the French Grand Prix. France wasn't that far from Switzerland, and he knew she'll get a kick out of exploring a new paddock. What Mick didn't know, is that Lewis had the same idea, as he brought his dog with him. Mick saw Roscoe in the distance, and couldn't wait to go to him. Yet, he had to say a few things to Angie first.

“Angie, Roscoe is coming. Please be on your best behaviour,” the driver was on his heels, in front of her, and she took it as an invitation to try to lick his face.

Mick giggled, before gently pushing her away. He loved his dog, but having her saliva on his face wasn't something he appreciated much.

“Hey, Mick!” Lewis called, Angie’s ears immediately darting towards the newcomers. “Good to see you, man.”

As the humans went for a polite hug, the two pets looked at each other curiously. They hadn't met before, but they had smelled each other on their respective human’s clothes. Roscoe barfed, going closer to the bigger dog. Angie inclined her head and sniffed his fur. Then, something Mick couldn't see must have happened, as the two animals start wagging their tails and playing with each other.

“They seem to like each other!” The Haas driver pointed out. “Maybe we should go outside to unleash them.”

“Good idea, man.”

The two drivers made their way toward a rather empty patch of green/yellowish grass outside the building. There, when they were sure nobody was around, they unleashed the pets, who immediately started running. Mick was so happy that the two dogs liked each other. It would have been a hassle if they didn't.

They left the dogs running in circles, joyfully chasing each other. Angie was far bigger than Roscoe, but she was gentle with him, making sure she won't crush him. Roscoe seemed ready to pounce on her, playfully wanting to fight. He tried to make Angie fall, but he miscalculated her stature, and instead, he fell on the ground. They continued to play like that for a while, under the attentive eyes of their owners.

After some time, Mick’s and Lewis’s phones rang. They had to go to the driver’s meeting.

“Roscoe! Angie!” The German called them back. “We have to go!”

Immediately, two cannonballs were coming for him. Mick didn't have the time to get up from his heels, and the two dogs came pouncing on his chest. The German giggled.

“Angie! Roscoe! Don't drool on me, please guys!” Mick was chuckling while trying to get the two little demons off him.

Lewis was plain out laughing on the side, not even thinking about helping Mick.

“Lewis! Come on, do something!”

The Mercedes driver’s laugh only doubled, and Mick abandoned his fight. He let the dogs lick him. After a few seconds, they seemed to have enough of him. They just settled on his chest, apparently thinking Mick was a good human pillow. The German was happy there, and not even Lewis taking a picture of him didn't worsen his mood.

*****

#mick schumacher #formula one #formula 1 #fanfic #ao3 works #angie schumacher #roscoe hamilton #lewis hamilton

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twilightofthe · 2 years

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More character prompts from this post!

Did Obi Wan’s here

What does your blorbo's phone/laptop/car/backpack look like?

Padmé

Phone:

Ok so Padmé isn’t stupid, Ani, she knows what planned obsolescence is, she knows the tech industry is predatory and stupid and Apple is some of the worst, but living in a capitalist society means you have to participate in capitalism and she likes the convenience of Apple software, so she always has the newest iPhone. She likes to get them in regular silver or white.

Her phone screen has a protector on it and you BET there is no crack to be seen because her phone is very much her baby. The case for the phone is a pretty marble/geometric/metallic design that’s got decent enough ratings online in terms of protection. Maybe it has one of those little built-in slots where you can put a spare credit card or ID, and if it does, she actually uses it lol

Her lockscreen is a screenshot of her weekly schedule because she is a neurotic type-A over planner and she needs that along with her twenty million alarms and reminders of everything all the time

Her homescreen is actually a cute picture of Anakin/Satine/Sabé/Obi Wan/whoever she’s in a relationship with, or if she has Luke and Leia it’s Luke and Leia. All her apps are meticulously organized into categorized boxes and everything is positioned on the screen so you can actually see the homescreen background and everything is accessible

She has no less than five different email apps. She checks all of them meticulously.

And this is just her personal phone, it’s not even the phone she keeps for work lmao

Laptop:

Pads also has the latest up to date MacBook Pro.

She’s like Obi Wan and she keeps a cleaning cloth for the screen because the dirty screen CONSTANTLY getting schmutz all over it drives her nuts

Her laptop background is some aesthetic floral background, but she actually has a screensaver slideshow of one of her photo albums with people she likes on it

She has a laptop case, it’s also very aesthetic and something with pretty abstract patterns in pastel colors, she has a matching colored rubber keyboard cover to keep yuck out of the keys.

Car:

Akshskdhk Padmé honey I’m so sorry I keep giving you literally every single one of the stereotypes for the rich liberal white women who were in my area growing up, but let’s be real that’s what you are 😂

So yeah Padmé has a new model shiny silver luxury electric sedan. She’s got a good job and rich parents

Not a Tesla because fffffuck Musk but one of those other brands. She feels like a BMW driver to me but idk if they come in electric.

Her license plate is specialized with her initials and has a special plate because she donates to the state wildlife society

She’s a faster driver; there isn’t really any wear and tear on the outside, like not in terms of dents, but there’s stress on the tires

Nice leather seats, seatwarmers, great sound system, the works. She’s always got a vanilla air freshener in it, it smells nice enough and she keeps the front area fairly clean, but do NOT open up the trunk or the glove compartment or pull down the sun visors, she’s got twenty million emergency first aid kits and spare outfits and boxes of pads and apocalypse prep boxes and three knives and four shopping bags of things she needs to return and bags of stuff she’s going to donate to the poor/soup kitchens

One of the check engine lights or something is constantly flickering on and off, Pads ignores it because “eh I need my car, I don’t have much time to get it fixed and nothing seems to be wrong with it, it should be fine”. Anakin’s eye twitches every time he sees it because not only is it something Broken he’s not currently Fixing(TM), he’s honestly not sure he CAN fix it because these new techy digital cars are extremely anti-self repair, and that just gets him and Padmé right back into the planned obsolescence argument again.

Backpack:

Bold of you to assume Padmé Amidala only has one (1) backpack

She has multiple high quality ones that suit her various needs

Two for school/work. They’re the same brand, small and one is plain leather and one is bougie-plaid and they depend on what outfit she’s wearing. They contain her laptop spare electronics and chargers, her emergency kit, umbrellas, and her purse

She’s got like three more for leisure. A bit more slouchy and aesthetic for just carrying random stuff when she doesn’t want a purse, still contain everything you could possibly need

Also one sports backpack

All in top quality shape

#we love my material girl yes we DO #thank y’all so much for still playing along with me when i’m absolutely balls at ask games nowadays #padmé amidala #star wars #sw #queen of my heart #ask #asks #anon

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onceagreys · 6 years

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give credits (© selflesswan)

don’t forget to like or reblog if you save/use them

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fantasylockscreens · 7 years

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•Brighton Rock // Queen •Baby Driver (2017) •Requested

#baby driver #queen #ansel elgort #lockscreens #iphone lockscreens #lockscreen #wallpapers #wallpaper #movie #movie lockscreen #movie lockscreens #cars #baby driver lockscreen

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mockscreens · 2 years

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more star wars lockscreens, this time with darker colors! 💫

please like/reblog if you save!

more star wars lockscreens here!

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lokcscreen · 4 years

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baby driver | like or reblog

#baby driver #lockscreens baby driver #baby driver lockscreens #baby driver wallpapers #ansel elgort #ansel elgort lockscreens #lily james #lily james lockscreens #eiza gonzález #eiza gonzález lockscreens #eiza gonzalez lockscreens #jamie foxx #jamie foxx lockscreens #jon hamm #jon hamm lockscreens

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notthatgoodoflockscreens · 5 years

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Lily James

#lily james #lily james lockscreen #lily james wallpaper #mamma mia here we go again #cinderella #baby driver #yesturday

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deepgreensunlight · 5 years

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there’s not enough lily james on this blog i need new lily content to gush over i want photoshoots and interviews and screencaps and metas and-

#lily james #donna sheridan #cinderella #mamma mia #yesterday #the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society #baby driver #pride prejudice and zombies #i just love her okay #she returns!!!!#she's my current lockscreen and wow #also just saw her insta story about brown hair #i love brunette lily with my whole heart #the boys

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moonlockscreensz · 5 years

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Lily James aesthetic locks 🌞

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Like or reblog if you save & give credit if you repost !

#lily james #lily james wallpapers #lockscreens #cute lockscreens #wallpapers #iphone wallpapers #aesthetic #iphone lockscreens #iphone lockscreen #vintage lockscreens #baby driver #cinderella #beige lockscreens #beige aesthetic #beige collage

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focusedits · 5 years

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#jon hamm #jon hamm lockscreens #eiza gonzalez #eiza gonzalez lockscreens #baby driver #baby driver lockscreens #lockscreens #lala

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severalforraelee · 2 years

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Prove It Part 11: Max Verstappen x Reader

Photo credit to Wikipedia

Word count: 3726

Written by raelee / posted April 25

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

Prove It Masterlist

I watch through the phone screen as Charles drags the broom across the hardwood floor, going over the same two floorboards at least three times.

A sigh escapes my lips. “Can you at least do something interesting today?”

After months of fans begging me to do a ‘day in the life’ with Charles and Carlos, I finally convinced our media department that it was a good idea. They wanted it to seem relatable and realistic to the fans, though, so during our break after Italy, I flew back to Monaco with Charles to film and post him doing everyday acts.

I guess the fans don’t realize just how boring Charles Leclerc is.

“This is not interesting enough for you?”

“Charles, you’ve been sweeping for like the past half an hour. I think you got it all, bud,” I answer.

He puts the broom back in the closet, pulling out the vacuum to suck up all of the crumbs and debris.

“Do you want to go to the club tonight?” He asks once he settles on the couch next to me.

“I’m twenty six weeks pregnant,” I deadpan.

“You’re no fun,” he closes his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Dinner then, with Lando and Alex?”

“I’m in,” I agree, glancing over at my phone in case it vibrates. It doesn’t.

Lando, Charles, Alex, and I sit at a table at a new restaurant Lando wanted to try. It’s a nice restaurant with a beautiful view and delicious food, but I can’t focus on that. The black screen of my phone stares up at me blankly, mocking me.

It knows that I want it to ring, and it knows who I want the phone call to be from. But nothing happens.

“And then a shark bit Carlos’ leg off, right, Y/N?” Charles questions.

“Yeah,” I respond absentmindedly, fingers fiddling with the edge of my phone case.

Alex snaps his fingers in front of my face, causing my gaze to snap to his. He gives me a look of concern, examining me closely.

“What?” I question.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone all day. Is everything fine with your mom? Your sister?” He gasps, lowering his voice. “Your niece?”

“Yes, Charles, everything is fine with my family,” I roll my eyes.

“Max?” Lando inquires.

My eyes drop down to my phone again, and I tap on the lockscreen to reveal that I still have no new texts. I would’ve felt it vibrate, anyways.

“What’s going on with Max?” Charles urges.

“Do you feel comfortable talking about it?” Alex coaxes.

“Oh, who cares about that? Spill,” Lando demands.

“Lando-””So, you guys know how we did that maternity photoshoot the other day?” I question, interrupting Alex as he’s about to scold the McClaren driver. They nod. “Max said some shit that I didn’t agree with-””What did he say? I’ll kill him,” Charles interrupts.

“It was just about the baby’s name, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” I reassure him.

“What, he didn’t like Charles Junior?”

“Why does every driver want this child to be named after him?”

“I don’t, there are too many Alexs running around in the first place,” Alex leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, so anyways… he wants the baby to have a Dutch name, I told him it was unfair to expect that because the baby is getting his Dutch last name-””What happened to hyphenating your last names?” Lando asks, also present for the name conversation with Pierre.

“It would be too long. Can everyone please stop interrupting me?” They nod, muttering apologies. “He just really wants the baby to have a Dutch first name too, and he accused me of not compromising even though the baby is getting his last name. It’s just so frustrating, and now I’m just waiting for him to call me with an apology.”

“Sweetheart, it’s Max Verstappen we’re talking about here, you’re never going to get an apology,” Alex tells me gently.

“He never even apologized to me for the inchident,” Charles grumbles.

“I know. And I guess that’s the part that bothers me the most. I don’t want his pride to get in the way of us co-parenting, but I think it already is. Like, he usually texts me every day, but he hasn’t since we had this fight. What if something happened to me or the baby? He wouldn’t know,” I sigh.

“I think you’re coming up with worries, Y/N, he knows you’re with Charles right now and if something happened to you, Charles would let him know. Just give him time to cool down, it’ll be good for you two to have some space,” Lando comforts.

“I know, you’re right. Thanks, you guys.”

Max ghosts me for days. We have a couple of weeks before the race in Singapore, so you would think that Max and I would figure out our differences fairly quickly so that we would be able to spend the break together, right? Wrong.

For the first couple of days, I wait for him to text me. He doesn’t.

So I decide to make the first move, texting him and asking if he would like to meet, since I decided to stay with Charles in Monaco for a while longer. He doesn’t respond.

I begin to get frustrated. It irritates me that I’m carrying his child and he’s completely ignoring me- what if something happened to the baby? Or what if I had something really urgent to discuss with him?

It feels like the roles have been reserved. I used to be the one ignoring him in an attempt to avoid another disagreement, but now Max is in that position. And it’s frustrating to deal with. I feel somewhat justified, since I ignored him at the beginning of the pregnancy when I was coming to terms with the fact that I’m pregnant with the baby of someone I hate. He’s ignoring me because we can’t agree on the origin of the baby’s name.

Charles suggests going to Max’s apartment and confronting him, that way he can’t ignore my attempts at communication. I brush him off at first, but after a couple days of the Red Bull driver still dodging my texts and phone calls, I decide that it’s not that bad of an idea after all.

So that’s where I am now, standing outside of Max Verstappen’s apartment. Charles drove me here since I forgot the address, and he told me to text him when I wanted to be picked up.

I knock on Max’s door. There’s no going back now.

The wooden surface swings open, Max standing on the other side. His face immediately transforms into one of surprise at the sight of me.

“Can I come in?” I request, my eyes daring him to deny me.

He nods silently, taking a step to the side. I walk into the apartment, taking my shoes off at the door.

“Can I get you anything? Water, a snack?” He asks as he approaches the kitchen.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” I respond snarkily.

He sighs at the comment.

“Listen, I’m sorry for-””I don’t even care about that right now,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear his bullshit apology. We both know it would be fake, anyways. I pull out my phone, opening the link that Raphael sent me. “Raphael finished editing the photos and emailed them to me. I figured you might want to see them.”

He steps closer to me, and I hand him my phone. I gaze around the apartment as he scrolls through the photos, noticing the dishes in the sink and the clothes on the floor. He’s clearly been here for a couple of days- he can’t even use the excuse that he hasn’t responded because he’s been so busy.

“You look so beautiful,” Max breathes out.

His eyes are glued to the phone, his finger scrolling slowly, but I see the look on his face. His lips are slightly opened, eyebrows gently furrowed in adoration. His eyes sparkle as he soaks in picture after picture.

I try to tame the butterflies in my stomach.

Just because he’s looking at pictures of me holding my bump, staring into the sun, doing whatever the hell I’m doing in those photos, with fondness and warmth, doesn’t mean that he likes me like that.

And just because I felt admiration for him while taking those photos doesn’t mean that I like him like that.

“It’s the bump,” I attempt to joke, suddenly sensing the heaviness in the atmosphere.

“No, it’s you.”

He looks up from the phone, eyes meeting my own. I’m taken aback by the emotions in them. He’s not feeling lust, he’s not feeling love, but there’s a gentleness, a tenderness to his eyes.

I stare back at him, unsure of how to respond to his comment. I don’t know what to say or do. I don’t know what I want to say or do. Do I want this to go further and satisfy my urge to kiss Max? Or do I break the moment, destroying what could’ve been?

He sets my phone down on the counter, taking a step closer to me. He looks relieved when I don’t move away from him. So he takes another step closer. And another.

And soon, his face is inches from my own, eyes gazing into mine, hot breath fanning my face. My heart swoons at the thought of his lips on my own, once again. But this time, I’ll be sober. And this time, we’ll have emotions besides hate behind the kiss.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers.

I nod, not trusting my own voice.

Clothing slipping from our bodies with care, whispered words of passion exchanged between us.

He leans forward, lips pressing against my own. It’s been months since the last time I’ve kissed anyone- in fact, the last person I kissed was Max when we created this baby. In those few moments between thinking about kissing and actually kissing, I was getting nervous.

Will I remember how to kiss? Will I do it right? Will I embarrass myself?

Fingers sliding over limbs, gripping, pulling, moving, to make the experience more pleasurable for both of us.

But all of those worries fade away when Max’s lips and mine move in perfect harmony, knowing exactly what the other person is going to do and how to react. The kiss moves quickly from one of passion and getting to know one another again to a faster pace, lust setting in for the both of us.

All I can remember is moans, groans, pants, soft questions of, “Is this okay?”

His hands grip my hips tightly, pulling me in as close as we can get to each other with the bump in between. One hand remains on my hip, the other sliding down to grip my ass. I moan at the action. My hands move from his shoulders to his hair, tugging at the short strands in anticipation.

And then afterwards, his hand in mine, our bare bodies entangled beneath the duvet.

He pulls back from the kiss and I whine at the loss of contact, causing a smirk to spread on his face. Cocky little shit. “Are you okay with taking this to the bedroom?” He questions, squeezing my hip to let me know that it’s okay to reject him.

“Yes.”

The sunlight bounces off of his hair, making the strands appear blonde. I see why there’s such a large debate online whether Max is a blonde or a brunette. He squints at me, despite the both of us sitting under an umbrella in the seating area of a local restaurant that Max loves.

After the… activity… that was done yesterday, I instantly fell asleep. In my defense, I haven’t had sex in a long time, and I haven’t done something so active since getting pregnant. And, being twenty six weeks pregnant, I do get tired easily. Max let me sleep in his bed, only waking me up to pass me a bowl of soup so that we could eat dinner together in a comfortable silence, and then the two of us went to bed.

Max requested taking me out to breakfast, so we stopped by Charles’ apartment for a quick outfit change. I dodged Charles’ questions as best as I could before heading out the door, telling him that Max will drop me off in the afternoon.

I know we have a lot to talk about, from the argument of the baby’s name, to him ghosting me for days, and then to us having sex last night. I don’t know how to feel right now, but I mainly feel embarrassed. I can’t help but wonder what Max thinks about me going from mocking him to sleeping with him. And if other people were to find out that we slept together without fully thinking it through… I don’t know how anyone would react.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” A waitress questions, snapping me out of my thoughts and Max and I out of our unofficial staring contest.

“I’ll just get a vanilla steamer, please,” I request.

“An orange juice for me, please,” Max answers. The waitress nods, writing down our order before walking away. I pause, waiting to see if Max will begin this conversation or if I should.

“So, should we discuss our son’s name first?” I begin, deciding to get right into it.

His face instantly darkens at the mention of the point of contention in our relationship, and I can tell that he’s remembering our argument in front of Pierre and Raphael. I know it’s not something that he wants to discuss, but I’d rather get this tension surrounding the baby’s name out of the way as soon as possible so that I can relax about it for the rest of the pregnancy. Plus, I’d like to refer to him as something besides ‘the baby’ or ‘our son.’

My phone begins to vibrate on the metal table as Max opens his mouth and I pick it up with a frown and the intention to decline the call. But, once I see who it is, anxiety starts to fill my chest and thoughts pile into my head.

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” I murmur, rising from the seat. I step out of the dining area, my back to Max as I answer the phone call. “Mom?”

“Hi baby,” my mom’s voice coos through the phone. It takes me back to the times when she would read to me in that same voice in my childhood bed. “How are you?”

“I’m doing good,” I smile at the sound of her voice. “I’m just in Monaco right now for work.”

“How fantastic. How’s my grandson doing? It’s hard to believe that he’s already the size of a zucchini.”

My heart flutters at the thought of my mom looking up the stages of development that her grandson is in. Even though my sister and her husband banned my mom from seeing Dusty Rose until she became sober, I haven’t made a decision yet about my mom’s relationship with my son. I guess I haven’t thought about it too much because we’re going to be living halfway across the world.

“He’s making me very tired,” we giggle to each other.

“So, do you have a birthing plan yet?” She asks.

“Um, no, not yet. We still have a couple of weeks left.”

“Oh, you know what? There’s a hospital right next to the building where my AA meetings are held. A woman in the meeting said that she delivered her daughter there and the staff was very respectful and helpful. Do you want me to find out more information for you?”

My stomach begins to twist at the realization that I’m going to have to tell her soon that I’m not having the baby at home. “Uh, no, I think I’ll discuss the plan with Max first.”

“Are you sure? I bet they fill up fast.”

“No, really, it’s fine, mom,” I respond. She doesn’t reply and my breath hitches at the silence.

“Y/N, what are you not telling me?”

Tears begin to spring to my eyes and I furiously blink, urging them to go away. My throat closes, not allowing me to speak. I don’t know what I would even say. Not here, not in public, not when my life is just starting to go right.

“What are you not telling me?” She repeats in a harsher tone.

“I’m not having the baby in America. I’m, actually, I’m not moving back to America,” I admit. A sob escapes me by mistake.

“What do you mean? You have to have the baby in America,” she wails, “Paisley won’t let me see her baby and now you won’t either? Why is everyone against me?”

“Mom, it’s just-””I’m trying so hard to recover and my children refuse to see that, they just see me as a good-for-nothing alcoholic,” she interrupts me, ranting.

“Mom, no-””Maybe you two are right. Maybe everyone would be better off without me,” she talks over my plead.

“It’s not because of your drinking problems, mom, it’s because of my job,” I feel like I’m almost yelling, silently screaming for her to listen over the phone. “I just- I’m doing what I love here, and I get paid well, and I have flexible hours and I can bring the baby and Tala with me everywhere I go.”

“And I could watch the baby while you go to work in America, why don’t you understand that?” I hear her sniffles through the phone. “All I want is to spend time with my grandchildren.”

“We’ll visit,” I promise quickly, hoping that my words will keep her from reaching for the closest whiskey. “We will, I promise, as soon as he’s able to fly, we’ll get on a plane and come see you.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

A gentle hand is placed on my shoulder and I turn around, facing Max. His expression is one of concern, and one hand rests lightly on my waist as the other reaches up to wipe the tears from my eyes.

“I think that I need a break from you, Y/N.”

Her words cause my heart to collapse. We both know exactly what that means. She’s going to do a bar crawl around the whole state, only using her phone to match with boys half of her age on hook up apps and to block mine and Paisley’s phone numbers so she doesn’t have to be called out during her fun time.

Then, in a couple of weeks when she’s done being wild, she’ll call us, begging us to give her money for another round of rehab. And we’ll do it, because we care about our mom and want the best for her.

“Please, mom,” I cry, wiping the snot from my nose.

“Have fun in Italy with your baby and without me.” She ends the phone call before I can respond.

My hands cover my face as I choke out sobs, not even caring about my appearance anymore. I know I look like an absolute disaster with tears and snot running down my red face and my hair disheveled, but all I can picture is my mom passed out in a public restroom with no one to care for her. And it sucks, because I know the only person who can really help her is herself, but she’s not willing to.

The Dutchman pulls me into his arms, rocking me backwards and forwards softly as I cry into his chest. He lets me. We stand in a comfortable silence as my tear ducts drain, and once I can’t cry anymore, I pull back from his chest.

“It was just my mom,” I confess before he has the chance to ask, “It’s ridiculous to cry this much over my mom.”

“Pregnancy hormones,” he says gently, giving me an out.

“Yeah,” I nod. We both know it’s not just because of pregnancy hormones. I haven’t talked much with Max about my relationship with my mom, but he at least knows how chaotic it is.

“She, uh, she’s upset that I’m not having the baby in America. She wants to see him,” the words spill out of my mouth before I can keep them in. My relationship with my mom is a vulnerable topic, so I don’t know why I’m telling him about one of the most destructive conversations that we’ve had in months.

“She’ll still be able to see him,” Max urges, “When you work at Red Bull, I’ll tell them that you need off work a couple of days every month to fly back to America with the baby to see your mum. Don’t worry about it.”

“Max, we’ve talked about this, I haven’t made a decision about where I’m going to work next season yet. And I don’t want to use your relationship with me to get special privileges.”

“I mean, it’s pretty much a given that you’re working at Red Bull. It’s just easier for everyone involved,” he shrugs.

I take a step out of his grip. “For you, maybe. But I’d be the one leaving a familiar environment that I’m comfortable and thrive in.”

“You’ll find that at Red Bull,” he tries to reassure me. “And you’ll see the people from Ferrari around the paddocks.”

I cross my arms, staring at him, still displeased.

“Come on, Christian’s going to be so flexible with you. Won’t you just do this one thing for me?”

“One thing?” I stare at him in shock. “Max you have no clue- it’s just- ugh, I don’t even know what to say, you are so frustrating.”

I turn on my heel, heading back in the direction that I think Charles’ apartment is in. My pride keeps me from pulling my phone out of my pocket to look up directions.

“Where are you going?” Max calls after me.

“Back to Charles’, a place where I’m not always pressured to do what he wants,” I holler back, not looking behind me at him.

So the update is so early this week because I really wanted to get this poll out. I need the baby’s name for what I have planned in the next chapter, so please take this poll on what the baby’s name should be! It will close on Friday night.

Poll is here

sorry if you don’t like any of the names :(

Message me to be added to the taglist :)

#f1 imagine

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