Since you write for Jacek, I asked for a ff in which the reader is Oliver's sister who is studying engineering. And one day, Oliver takes the reader to the paddock to meet with the engineers so that she can talk to them about a project for school, and there she accidentally bumps into Jack and they become friends right away. Continue to write as you want, but I want it to be friends to lovers in the vibe
If you do that, I love you ❤️
♡ navigation / request info / f1 masterlist
♡ warnings: none
♡ a/n: thank you for requesting!
Despite a slight age gap and some differences, you and Ollie were a great duo. One’s always proud of the other. Every weekend Ollie was mentioning his genius sister whereas you were constantly bragging about your brother's achievements to your uni friends.
So when the time came to start writing your thesis everyone could sense your slight uncertainty. Your brother being the first one to notice. And that's how you end up, following him around the track, this time not only to watch him race but also take a closer look at the car.
"Trust me, they'll love talking about your thesis," Ollie said, walking through the paddock slightly ahead of you. The black sunglasses shielded his eyes from the unusual sun above the Silverstone track. You felt a mix of excitement as well as nervousness. The thought of showing your ideas to professionals haunted your mind, different scenarios popping up in your head as you watched your feet.
Suddenly you bumped into something, or rather someone. "Woah!" A voice exclaimed as strong hands grabbed your arms to steady you. You blinked, looking up into a pair of striking blue eyes. A literal prince charming was standing right in front of you. "Sorry about that," you mumbled, stepping back. "Don't worry about it," Jack chuckled. "I should've been paying more attention too." His eyes lingered on you for a moment before he glanced at Oliver. "Hey, Bearman, long time no see. How are you feeling with the new car?”.
"Yeah, good to see you, mate! The car’s good." Oliver clapped him on the back. "This is my sister, by the way. She's studying engineering, working on a pretty cool thesis. I figured I’d bring her along to meet the team”. I smiled as Jack’s eyes darted back to mine. He raised his eyebrows “So this is the sister you can’t shut up about. Engineering? That’s impressive”.
Over the course of the next few races you and Jack became closer and closer. He was always next to you when your brother was busy. He would bring you coffee and listen to you rambling about your struggles with the thesis. He would always try to help even though he didn’t understand a word you were saying.
“I don’t think it makes sense. I feel like I have been rewriting the same thing over and over for the last two pages” you said. You put your head in your hands as you stared at the screen in front of you. Jack raised his eyes at you. “What do you mean?”. He moved his chair closer to you so he could see what you were talking about.
Your bodies were close to each other but weren’t touching, yet.
Jack leaned in, his shoulder just inches from yours, and scanned the screen. His brow furrowed as he took in your work, reading the lines over carefully. "Maybe you’ve been looking at it for too long - sometimes it helps to get a fresh set of eyes." he said, his voice calm and steady.
You sighed “It just doesn’t feel right”, feeling the weight of weeks of frustration bearing down on you. Your hand hit the backspace key and started deleting every word you had written in the past hour and half. “Hey, don’t do that,” he said, gently holding your wrist to stop you. “You’re so close to finishing. Don’t let this one part make you doubt the whole thing”.
You met his gaze, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. His hand lingered on your wrist a moment longer, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin, sending a reassuring warmth through you. “You just need a break. It’s late, you have been staring at this for long”.
“Maybe you’re right,” you whispered. He stood up, offering his hand to help you up “Let’s call it a night and go grab dinner”.
It was exactly what you needed.
The conversation was light, with Jack making you laugh over stories from the track, all the while reassuring you without even having to say it out loud.
You were sitting next to each other at a diner near a track. There was a pause, nothing uncomfortable, just a moment for you two to think.
“Thank you, Jack… for everything, really. I think I would go insane without you” you chuckled but you meant it. Jack looked at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I don’t think you give yourself enough credit," he replied, his voice low, almost as if he was sharing a secret. "But I’ll admit, I’m glad to be here. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else”.
A silence settled between you again, but this time, it felt different. You felt his knee brush against yours under the table, a casual touch that was a sign of something shifting between you.
He seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his cup. "You know," he started, his eyes meeting yours. “Being with you helped me a lot also. I was really stressed about joining F1 but you always make me look at the positive things. You’re different, you know? I can be myself with you”. His gaze shifted to his lap. His hair fell acting almost like a curtain covering his blushed face.
You watched him, your heart pounding as he looked down. "Jack," you said softly, reaching out to gently lift a strand of hair from his face, letting your hand linger by his cheek. "I… I feel the same way. Somehow, being around you just makes things… make sense” you giggled nervously.
A soft smile tugged at his lips, and he reached up to hold your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. "So we’re on the same page, then?" he asked, a hint of his usual playful tone slipping through, though his eyes held a seriousness that made your heart skip.
You nodded, smiling back, feeling the relief and excitement of finally sharing what had been unspoken for so long. "Yeah, I think we are”.
Jack’s face lit up, and he gave a quiet laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. His fingers tightened around yours. "Good," he murmured, his voice a little shaky. "Because I don’t think I could’ve kept this to myself much longer”.
Hi there! Can I request a hurt/comfort fic for Jack? I was thinking about having a reader that identifies a lot with Matilda by Harry Styles, is always taking care of everyone else but never asks for help when she’s going through something. Their relationship with Jack is fairly new and he’s been slowing noticing these things about her but also surprising her with how much he cares about her because before him, she never really had someone actively paying attention to her needs and looking out for her.
But only if you’re interested, of course.
I really enjoy your work, and I appreciate you sharing it with us and also having your requests open.
❤️🔥 anon
the cake and the newt ⚘ jd14
warnings: reader has a troubled family life and verbally abusive parents, so please proceed with caution if this sort of content is sensitive for you. explicit language. not proofread (yet!)
pairing: jack doohan x reader
genre: hurt-comfort, fluff??
word count: 2.8k
summary: just before the 2021 f3 season, you finally reveal to your boyfriend the ugliest parts of your life after months of keeping it a secret for so long. but where you used to tiptoe around, for the first time, you were finally given the courage to land with your feet on the ground. all of which you wouldn’t have done without him.
author’s note: thank you guys so much for requesting, omg i sort of deviated from the requests a bit… but i hope this captures the essence of them still!! Anyway the title is a reference to 'matilda' by roald dahl and how the cake and the newt is a symbol of acting against adult oppression, and in a way i hope that this story embodies that just a little bit. Hope you guys like it, and thank you so much for reading!!
THE FIRST TIME it happened, Jack didn’t want to say anything.
Of course, you didn’t want it to ever be something he caught on to. Not since your friends first pointed him out to you on a beautiful, sun kissed, late afternoon on Gold Coast. Not since he invited you out to surf the day after and you had to pretend like your knees weren’t bruised from climbing out your bedroom window.
You didn’t want him anywhere near it — especially not when you recoiled the first time he tried to put his arm around you, and you couldn’t explain why the tears couldn’t stop coming when he dropped you off down the road from your house later that night.
It, and all of the rain and tar and fog that came along with it, would ruin the only breath of fresh air you’d known.
And so, you kept it to yourself. You thought you did a good job, too. You’d stuff your blanket in the gap under your door and answer his FaceTime calls in the dark of your bedroom. Spending your limited pocket money on postage stamps was tricky, and heading out to the post office to send Jack little gifts certainly was a feat, but somehow you managed.
You’d tell him everything was alright at home, that you were managing well without him. Your boyfriend was none the wiser, and that was for the better.
The first time it happened, Jack didn’t want to say anything. But that was only because you simply wouldn’t let him.
With the end of his first Formula 3 season, and its residual responsibilities, Jack could finally come home a little earlier. The Alpine Academy driver had been counting down the days; crossing out little tallies in his notebook until he could see you again. When his manager bid him farewell from the Gold Coast Airport, Jack knew that he could finally come home to you.
He was impatient, with the same sort of juvenile greediness that crossed him on Christmas mornings as a kid. The immigration officers were taking their time, and his luggage just had to be the last one to roll out on the conveyor belt. Even the cab driver seemed to be plotting against him, taking the wrong turn and dragging out the trip another fifteen minutes.
It’s alright, mate, Jack had said, forcing the annoyance back down his throat. Take your time.
But, really, all he wanted was to see you.
His girlfriend. The title itself seemed to frustrate him, too, because it somehow felt too light to capture the weight his feelings for you. To Jack, no word ever could; how would one describe the person who clouded his thoughts from the moment he woke up? Was there anything, anywhere, in the dictionary that labeled the type of person whose heart Jack admired so much? Who he was in awe of every day?
So, instead of agonising over vocabulary and etymology, Jack stopped by the florist for a bundle of roses. He made a quick trip to the supermarket for the apricots you’d eat on the beach together, too.
After spending another ten minutes deliberating between chocolate or lemon muffins, and deciding on both, Jack hoped that this would be enough. He would tell himself that this was how he would measure his love for you, that this would be the best way he knew how to do it. After a year away, this was the least that you deserved.
The walk down your driveway was one the young man wasn’t familiar with. For as long as he had known you, this was something that he had only ever watched you do. He would sit in his car, the headlights off, squinting into the distance. He’d try to reason with himself why you’d repeat this routine, time after time, but eventually, he had given up trying altogether.
Perhaps you were embarrassed of him, Jack had thought at one point. Maybe his car was too flashy, and his job was too unorthodox, and so you wanted to keep him a secret. But that just seemed silly — you were never the type of person to worry about things like that.
Don’t worry about me, you had said when he brought it up, your touch against his jaw sending a warmth across his skin. It’s nothing. Trust me.
And how could he say anything when you were looking at him like that?
Eventually, he dropped it, forced himself to stop worrying about the whole thing, and here he found himself standing at the front door of the house you always disappeared into. He could barely contain the smile that spread across his face at the thought of finally seeing you again.
With his heart beating right out of his chest, Jack knocked on the door three times.
“Who the fuck are you?”
For a second, he was stunned. The older man who had opened the door was much larger than him, much larger than you — a storm cloud was cast over his features, and his voice was like stones against glass. Whoever this man was, the young driver wanted nothing to do with him. More importantly, he didn’t want you to have anything to do with him.
Words eventually began to form in his head, and Jack cleared his throat. “I, um-”
“Um? Um? I don’t fucking have time for this,” The man spat, giving the young driver a once over. “Who the fuck is this for?”
Before he could reply, Jack could hear the familiar rhythm of your footsteps approaching.
In a small voice, you let out, “Jack?”
“(Y/N)-”
“(Y/N)? You got all this shit for her?”
You pushed past the man, your eyes downcast and lower lip quivering. Immediately, it was like a knife twisted in his chest as Jack finally pieced everything together. A mix of anger and disbelief clouded his head, slogging his movements as he let you drag him away from your porch.
“(Y/N), I had no idea….”
“Oh, Jack, what are you doing here?”
He tried to ignore the man’s obscenities from over your shoulder — it took everything in him to focus on your eyes that were pleading with him so desperately. “I thought I’d come home early, I wanted to surprise you, I-”
You held his head in your hands, fingers shaking. “Go. Home. You can’t be here.”
The flowers in his hand were wilting by the second.
“What?! Me?! (Y/N), this man is living with you, in your house, you can’t be here with him, I won’t let you.”
“No. No, no,” You shook your head. Tears had begun to fill your eyes, and Jack felt the knife twist one more time. “That’s not how this works. You shouldn’t be here-”
“He’s fucking crazy! You’re not safe here-”
“Please, Jack.”
The look on your face was enough to break his heart.
“Go home,” You tried one last time. “Please. I’ll be okay. Trust me.”
If anything, that day proved the lengths to which that he did trust you. And he hated himself for it.
The second time that it happened, Jack didn’t know.
Well, in a way. Jack had only found himself in its’ aftermath, never knowing what really happened to you once he pulled his car out from the end of your street. He was only seventeen; a child himself, really, so what could he have done? That day on your porch was barely enough evidence to push for any sort of legal action -he checked, too- and Jack knew you could only do anything when you turned eighteen.
And so, he loathed himself, playing along and pretending like everything was alright. A coward's dream.
Months had passed since the incident, a coil tightening around you with each day that passed. It suffocated you, this coil that was your house and this inescapable ache — the only relief you felt was when you’d sneak out of your window, dirt on your palms and knees, as you met with the only love you’ve ever known.
This time, the two of you found yourselves laying in the back of his truck. The sound of waves crashing against the shore drowned out the hurt of your day, and the full moon overhead cast pale shadows over your intertwined figures. The beach where you two met was your safe space, your heart buried deep in the sand for him to keep.
Moments like this was what you lived for — with your head laying on his chest, his heartbeat slow and steady and lulling you to peace. Jack’s fingertips drifted lazily over your forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His arm, strong from the months of training, pulling you closer to him. If you could, you’d bottle these moments and keep them with you forever.
“When are you leaving again?”
“In a week.” Jack’s voice sent vibrations in his chest and through your bones. “But I don’t know. I was thinking of doing the training camp here and then just flying off for pre-season testing a bit later….”
You sat up, looking down at him in disbelief. “What? Come on, Jack, you can’t do that. Aren’t you supposed to be in Germany with your new team?”
The way he crossed his arms behind his head sent butterflies in your stomach. “Well, yeah, but why be there if I could be with you?”
You laughed, settling back down beside him, despite the sadness of knowing that you could never really be there in the way you wanted to be. If you could, you’d drop everything to go with him. To be with him somewhere far away from here, where all of this would only be a bittersweet marker of the past. This was the sort of game you played, teasing yourself with fools’ dreams, only to scoff at your delusions afterwards.
Tonight, especially tonight, you dug yourself deeper.
“Someday I will be,” You spoke into the darkness. “With you, I mean. In your garage somewhere in Europe, not believing that this is your life. That this is our life.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jack played along. “Any race in mind for your first paddock appearance?”
“Hmm. How’s Monza? In front of all the Ferrari fans, you know, give them a bit of a show?”
Your boyfriend laughed, and you knew that you wanted to be the reason for that for the rest of your life. “I don’t know what show we’d be giving them, mate. Not any that would keep us out of jail, anyway.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You giggled. “But, anyway, the point is that we’ll be together. And you won’t have to park at the end of my street, and I’ll keep your flowers in a vase in my room and water them every day.”
“(Y/N)....”
“I’ll leave you a bowl of sliced apricots on the counter in the morning, and be there to kiss you goodbye when you leave and hello when you come home. I’ll… I’ll be there for you when you get out of the car and hold your hand if the race was tough. I’ll be under the podium when you’re standing on the top step."
You took in a shaky breath. "I’ll make loving me easy, Jack. Easier than this. I promise.”
Jack tilted your chin upwards, and you tried to look at him through the tears that blurred your vision.
“(Y/N), you don’t have to do any of that,” He whispered, his breath warm on your skin. “Are you kidding? Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It’s the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I do before I close my eyes at night. Hell, even in my sleep, I love you, and I know that because you’re all I dream about.”
His words were smooth, gliding over your wounds and softening their ache. The thought of anyone feeling this way about you was inconceivable — it overwhelmed you completely. But for a moment, you let him carry the weight of your worries by your side. For a moment, you let yourself believe him.
“Really, I’m all you dream about?” You hoped to lighten the mood. “An example, please, I’m begging.”
You could practically hear the blush forming on his cheeks as he let out another laugh. “You can’t put me on the spot like that.”
“Come on, don’t be boring!”
“Are you seriously egging me on right now? After a heartfelt confession like that?”
“Yes, mate,” You teased. “I told you about my dreams. It’s your turn.”
“Alright, alright,” Jack finally settled down, his fingertips continuing their gentle journey down your arm. “I’ll tell you about the one I have the most often. Not the one where you have tentacles for arms and hooves for feet….”
He watched your nose scrunch in disgust, flowers blooming in his chest. “From what I remember, we’re in my car in your driveway. And it’s always the moment before you open the door, after I kiss you goodbye, and, yes, your lips feel just as good as they do in real life. But this time you stop. You let go of the handle, and you turn to me and you say, ‘Let’s go home.’ And we do.”
Jack took in a deep breath. “Come with me, (Y/N). For real this time.”
You only shake your head, your heart in your throat. “You know I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” Your boyfriend insisted. “Your birthday is soon. If we wait a bit, you know, and then you’re eighteen and I’ll get you a ticket and-”
“We know that’s not going to happen, Jack. It’s not that simple.”
But he was adamant, pleading, as he held you a bit closer. “It can be. Just… think about it, okay?”
Okay, you had said like a promise. I’ll think about it.
As the weeks went on, you found yourself thinking about Jack’s proposition more and more. You thought about it when you FaceTimed him before his flight to Germany, and you thought about it when you texted him on his birthday. It was all you could think about when you tiptoed around your house, and all that you could think about when you shrunk into someone smaller than yourself.
The day of your eighteenth birthday, you sifted through the mail before anybody else could. It had become a habit growing up, meeting the mailman at the door to hide your letters in your t-shirt. This time was no different as you beelined to your room, the edges of the envelope digging into your skin.
You only had a couple of minutes, you knew, before someone would come banging on your door. Rushed fingers tore open the paper, impatient for the letter hidden inside it.
For my dearest (Y/N), it read. Happy birthday! I love you in ways that I can’t even explain. Hopefully this helps a little bit. I can’t wait for you to come home — Monza awaits :)
The words seemed to overlap with each other as you skimmed the letter and the document attached, your excitement getting the better of you. Because right there, in your hands, was a ticket to the last race of the season, and all at once, everything was more than just a dream. It was real. This could be your life.
Suddenly, you knew that this was it. This was your chance.
You were discrete about it, meticulous and cautious. You made your appointments to get your Visa, and you somehow scrapped together just enough to pay off the fees. Over the next few weeks, you felt the coil around you loosen and the clouds overhead cleared.
When the time came, you left your bedroom window shut. You tiptoed, instead, down the hallway and to your front door, leaving a note on the dining table on your way out. Heavy in your hand, your luggage trailed behind you as you turned the handle.
Finally, the bruises on your knees had healed and your palms were clean of dirt. By the time you arrived at your hotel in Italy, the coil around you had loosened. It was strange, navigating this new country on your own, but you knew that this unfamiliarity also came from the clear sky overhead. No longer were you burdened by it and the misery it had caused you — you were free.
Just finished at the track. I’m on my way back to the hotel, Jack had texted you when you landed. I can’t believe you’re here!
And neither could you, not really, as you milled about the fancy hotel room. Your boyfriend knocked three times, the sound echoing off the walls and nesting in your heart.
As you opened the door, you didn’t know what to expect. But you knew that this time, you’d hold the roses to your nose and fill your lungs with their sweet scent. You’d prepare two plates and two spoons, and blow out your candles stuck into the tops of chocolate and lemon muffins. You would pull Jack into the room, wrap him in your arms, and you would know that everything would be okay.
Above all, this was where you were meant to be. You were home.
author's note again: the page break thing keeps glitching when i edit the post ihjskjfhsk i hope its working now :( apologies for the long post!! but yeah hoped you guys liked it hehe i loved writing it sm
Early morning fog surrounded the Spa-Francorchamps track. The legendary circuit was quiet and still in stark contrast to what would be happening there the following afternoon. You always loved your job as a journalist. One of the many perks of this profession was being able to walk and run around the circuit.
As you rounded the iconic Eau Rouge, your breath catching slightly at the incline, you noticed a figure ahead, his stride smooth and focused. You quickened your pace and soon found yourself alongside him. To your surprise, it was Jack Doohan, his focus momentarily broken as he turned to glance at you.
“Didn’t expect anyone here.”’ he said, taking out his Airpod. He slowed down a bit to match your conversational pace. “It’s hard to resist running on this track.” you replied, steadying your breath. “It’s something special. Calm before the storm.” he chuckled.
You two ran together for a while. A light conversation forming between you. Soon, the sounds reduced to the rhythmic pounding of your feet and the occasional bird call from the surrounding forest.As more people began arriving at the paddock, you parted ways, thanking each other for the company.
Not long after rumors were swirling - Jack was to become a full time Alpine driver next season and drive alongside Pierre. Once you heard it you were a bit surprised, in a good way, excited almost. You didn’t really know him - your only interaction being a joint run, yet you felt happy for him.
“Looks like you’re about to become a regular face around here,” you said, trying to keep your tone light as he stood in front of you for a quick interview. Jack’s expression brightened as he saw you. “Yeah, it’s been a wild ride. I’m just trying to take it all in”. You asked him a few questions, his answers laced with the mix of nerves and excitement that came with such big news.
But as the interview wrapped up, there was a moment of pause, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than before. “Thanks for the run this morning,” he said quietly, a hint of something unspoken in his voice. “Anytime, I will be more than happy to be doing this more often next season” you responded with a big smile.
