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wisheslost · 4 months

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The white-eye warbles, the camellia blooms.

As a writer of Yae Publishing House, you have to visit the shrine for work purposes quite often— and it is on these shrine visits that you came to be even more acquainted with the yashiro commissioner, of whom you were previously known to only as that writer he had bumped into at the Irodori festival, in his sister's words; the most cliché way possible.

cw : mutual pining, friends/strangers to lovers, fluff, reader gets screamed at but its fine its not by ayato, no use of y/n, reader is technically an oc but is never referred to with a name. pls lmk if I should add more!

a/n : ive been meaning to post this but i kept stalling😭 sorry

wc : 5.4k

Kamisato Ayato is a smart man. The revered head of the Kamisato clan knows all there is to know about what's going on amidst the different commissions in Inazuma, but not a single clue does he have about the feelings you harbour for him, and who knows when he will?

You seldom had the opportunity to go to the shrine, and so, everytime you came down from the shrine, everytime you hurriedly made your way through Chinju forest, you did with the same intention in mind— to see Ayato. It didn't matter if he didn't notice you, just a glimpse of his face made your day better.

One of these very days, Ayato saw you pass, and much to your surprise, invited you in to have tea. In an attempt to be polite, and since you were done with work at the time, you accepted his sweet offer.

And so it continued — each time someone of the estate saw you passing by, they'd invite you in and offer you tea, while you tried your best to decline most of the time, sometimes it was just… not doable. Convincing Thoma was a hard job, but to persuade Miss Furuta to let you go was even more difficult.

Now, Ayato wasn't always there, sometimes he was out for a meeting or was doing work in his chamber ( the same chamber you found yourself too unimportant to enter, the chamber that felt almost suffocating to you the one time you went in there. ) but even when he was, if he heard of you having came, he'd offer you to tea with the condition that you had to wait till his work was done. You loved his company, so who were you to deny it?

And perhaps that love you had for the time you spent with him turned into the love you had for him.

You two weren't strangers. No, not at all. You bumped into each other during last year's Irodori festival, and in the most clichesque way ever, all your documents had fallen down, and being the gentleman he was, Ayato helped you pick them up ( obviously !).

Ayato found himself writing you a letter ever so often, and your reply to it that laid there among his official documents was the last to be opened of the day—but not the least, no, it was a way for him to conclude his day positively, or so he had told you. And as you two grew closer, you only found it easier to share your work with him, snippets of something you wrote that you were somewhat proud of , but that didn't make it into the published version of the story, a verse from a poem you gave up on writing, anything you thought he would like— you sent him, and eagerly waited for his reply.

You'd read him some of your poetry time to time— each time you came by his castle of a house, and each time he simply stared at you until you finished, and would then ask you why you used a certain metaphor to describe a certain thing, to which you'd happily answer, or commend you for having thought of something in such a different way, and at the end, he'd pass a rather funny comment, even if unintentionally, such as one like "I want this framed on my wall." to which you could do nothing but laugh, while he simply gazed at the beauty the sky harboured, seemingly deep in thought. Why he always did that, you did not know, and you could only wonder, what exactly did he think of each time?

Is showing your unpublished work to someone outside the Yae Publishing House breach of contract? No... Well, not exactly. You had agreed to abstaining from showing anyone anything that has to do with your unpublished literary pieces, but you knew the publishing house wasn't ever going to publish the poems you wrote on your own. They would say things like the topic's too vague, the metaphors don't make sense, and that the writing didn't flow, whatever that meant. So, what you wrote for the publishing house was what they demanded from you— quite different than what you actually wrote. Alas, they don’t understand your words when they're not catered to them. But it's fine, Ayato did, and what more could you ask for?

Actually, if given the chance, you would definitely ask for something more.

Kamisato Ayato understood social cues quite well, or atleast one would think he would, as that was a big part of his duty. So why he couldn't comprehend your feelings for him, was a mystery to you. But I guess understanding if someone likes you or not isn't really something listed in the skillset a Yashiro commissioner requires.

Now, what he could and couldn't understand was not your problem, and would no longer be, not after you confess your feelings to him. You figured it would be easier to do if you just played it out like one of your usual interactions, and so you wrote a poem. A poem you'd innocently read out to him one of those days you happen to stumble upon his house, and with it, he'd finally understand. Finally understand you liked him.

Something else popped up. A question much unappreciated. The worst outcome possible. “But what if he didn't like you back?” Well the poem isn't even for him then! It's from the point of view of one of my original characters— yes, that excuse is good enough.

But then the day finally arrived, you were finally there, sitting in Kamisato Estate's courtyard eagerly waiting for Ayato to be done with his meeting that had started just as you came, it was not often Ayato had meetings in his chamber, so it seems you just happened to have bad luck today. Sitting on the cushion, waiting for Ayato to be done, you found yourself making multiple revisions to that poem of yours, and in the middle of that, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting at Yae Publishing House you had this evening, but the thought soon slipped your mind as you thought of another line for the poem.

He had promised it would not take too long, but one hour had gone by just like that, and before you knew it, you were barely keeping awake, you couldn't help it, running on 2 hours of sleep from having worked all night, your mind was starting to shut down. Resting your head on the table was probably the first mistake you made that day— but one could argue there were plenty other mistakes made before that, such as not having slept in the first place.

You usually came to meet Ayato around the evening, not only because his workload was lighter that time of the day but also because the publishing house's important meetings and discussions of the sort were held most often, if not all the time, early in the day. And that was precisely why you had forgotten about that meeting you had this evening. Was it the two hours of sleep or the anxiety from the whole confession thing? whatever it was, it was just making your day harder and harder.

It had been an hour and a half since you arrived at Kamisato Estate, the hour spent waiting and scribbling, and the half spent peacefully sleeping as no one bothered to wake you up. It wasn't that the staff of the estate couldn't care less about you, in fact, everyone around noticed you having succumbed to slumber. But who dare to awaken you, Clan Head's possible significant other?

It's true that Ayato was unbeknownst to your feelings towards him, but those at Kamisato Estate weren't. It was easy to tell you had a thing for him, much too obvious that every time you saw him in the eye your heart skipped a beat, and practically every one of the estate's staff thought you two were together, and just trying to hide it. To them, the way you looked at Ayato, was the way he looked at you. His, a loving gaze that never lets go of your frame, and a soul that so desperately wants to tell the whole world how much he loves you(— but hell, he couldn't even fathom telling you) and Yours, a stare that quickly tries to focus on something else when noticed by him, a heart too heavy with emotions— emotions that cannot find their way through speech, and are expressed only through words.

And that serene and loving gaze was the first thing you saw being woken up, because in that whole house, no one except Clan Head himself would have the courage to wake you up.

It's not until Ayato's voice echoes in your ears accompanied by the faint pitter-patter of the rain that you realise your noses are barely inches away from touching as he knelt down to your level.

“Oh, my writer, it seems you've slept most wonderfully in my absence, and on Thoma's jacket, huh?” his tone had a bit of sneer in it, as if he was jealous of the fact you had used Thoma's jacket as a pillow. And there was that— “my writer”, it stemmed from an inside joke, wherein once when he was transcribing a poem you wrote, you called him ‘my personal calligrapher’ which warranted the “That would make you my writer, hm?” and you knew it was a joke but goodness, he called you that only when people weren't around, and the way he said it everytime, Oh Archons!

But wait— You weren't supposed to be swooning over Ayato right now! You should be at the publishing house, attending that meeting— and so you rose up frantically to leave, apologies leaving your mouth rapidly,

“Lord Commissioner, I'm so sorry but I must go, I had an important work thing and I- I'm sorry! I should hav-'' and that is when you get cut off by Ayato's forefinger upon your lips, if that was an attempt to shush you- it worked. “Just go. I understand.” he said, and the reassurance in his voice and the slight smile on his face brought you right back to your senses.

And so you hurriedly put on your shoes to make a run for it, uttering one final ‘sorry’ to him, much to his dismay. And as you made it out the door of the estate, you heard Ayato's voice calling to you- “Take an umbrella!” to which you could only respond— “I'll be fine! The rain's not that bad!” because right now, saving face at the publishing house was far more important than a few drops on your clothes.

Except it wasn't a few drops, you had greatly underestimated the power of the Hydro Archon, because by the time you reached the doors of the publishing house, you were completely wet from head to toe— and saving face was no longer present in your dictionary. In fact, you never even wanted to show your face again- and god, how many and who even were the people attending that meeting? because you were going to embarrass yourself in front of all of them right now.

The second you entered that room where the meeting was going on, as if your bad luck wasn't bad enough, you saw a figure too striking, bright pink hair.. fox ears.. and those eyes, those eyes that didn't take even a full two seconds to notice your presence and announce it to the whole room.

“Oh, look who's here! did the Yashiro Commission- er, reject you, my dear? or did you finally realise where your priorities should lie?” and right after she had said that, you could feel that theories about you and the commissioner had already began floating in the air of that room— whispers of a mixture of words like yashiro commissioner, head of the kamisato clan could be heard, and among them was that name a bit too familiar- Kamisato Ayato. How she knew about your yashiro commission shenanigans, you had no idea, but you weren't about to question her— Guuji Yae was no god, but people were convinced she definitely was omniscient, the way she never lacked information about the people she worked with.

You could swear on your life that the stutter after the words ‘yashiro commission’ was done on purpose, and you'd live. What she was trying to imply wasn't too obvious, in fact, the way she said it, it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different— but what was also true, only it wasn't something you were comfortable with everyone in that room knowing. You couldn't manage to respond to that, ‘tleast not in a way that would allow you to keep your job. And so Guuji Yae's lips spoke again, this time out of pity for you.

“But hey, better late than never.” she said, gesturing for you to come sit next to her.

And so the meeting went on like normal. You were trembling terribly from the cold, dripping wet still but there wasn't anything you could do about it, and as the guy sitting next to you took notice of that and offered you his jacket, you could feel watchful eyes throughout the room landing upon you two, waiting for your response. With the amount of writers present in this room, you knew this interaction was making its way into a light novel soon. Thinking of a response was hard, accepting it would give birth to more conspiracies, but not accepting it would blatantly prove Guuji Yae's previous comment about the yashiro commissioner right. And before you could think of a response to that awfully nice gesture, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your editor, who was currently explaining something on a whiteboard, something you failed to understand because of the preoccupations your mind currently had. “(Name), are you even paying attention !?” were his words, and as if enough people weren't already staring at you, now the whole room was. A nervously spoken ‘sorry’ was all you could let out, and it wasn't even a proper answer to his question.

The meeting dragged on for another 15 minutes— 15 dreadful, cold minutes. And when it was finally over and people were getting out of their seats and as if your luck wasn't already the worst, it only got worse-r as your editor called out to you right as you got up, “Not you. I still have to talk to you.” Did he not see you shivering? Looking like a sopping wet cat? Did he not have an ounce of sympathy?

As everyone else exited the room, you were forced to sit until who knows when. Guuji Yae was the last to leave, and before she stepped out the room, she called the editor over to speak to him, uttering something along the lines of what you thought was “Go easy on the poor thing, ok?” and was that poor thing in question you? most likely, yes. And good for that— he shouldn't think to disobey the owner of this whole establishment right?

But he did. Or atleast, the words that followed after she left did not seem like him ‘going easy on you’ at all.

The way he had his arms on the desk, the way his figure loomed over yours, that expression on his face… oh, you were about to be scolded big time.

“You, tell me. What exactly is your problem?”

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I apologise.” You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you spoke, and while your attempt at an apology was well delivered, it was terribly timed.

“If you were so fucking sorry as you claim to be, tell me, what the hell has been bothering you so damn much to arrive late to an important meeting when i had reminded you so many times the previous day!?”

Oh. That was a first— never before had you heard him swear like this, and you're pretty sure it probably falls under top 10 things you shouldn't do if you don't want to lose your job, but who were you to say? your job was being held together by a single thread made of miracles.

“I'm really sorry sir, it was just something personal- I can guarantee you, it won't ever happen again.” Ah yes, the infamous personal issue: the inability to manage a schedule.

“Did someone pass away?”

“..No.”

“Someone fall gravely ill?”

“..No”

“Family issues?”

“No-”

“Then WHAT the hell’s been bothering so much you show up late to a meeting with GUUJI YAE? Do you seriously not understand how fucking embarrassing it is? For the writer I had to practically beg for the higher-ups to not fire even though you kept being late and crossing deadlines, to show up late again?” He had yanked you out of your seat with his right hand midway through his speech out of the anger he possessed as of current, becoming physical when angry wasn't uncommon, but for someone who you always saw as calm and cool, for someone who always put up with you no matter what, the breaking point had arrived, and it was wholly your fault.

But you understood. Understood the reasons behind his furious reaction, for he was right, it was truly embarrassing, because that thread made out of miracles that was holding your job in place wasn't made out of miracles at all— it was made out of your editor's continued efforts to keep you in this organisation.

When you didn't, well, more like couldn't respond to him, and he realised the outburst he had just made, he let go of your upper arm, and his hand went back to the desk with his other arm, and as he regained his senses, looking down at the desk realising what he just did, he tried to apologise-

“I didn't mean to-”

“I-it's fine. You don't have to say anything.” Cutting him off was usually not something you would do, but at this moment, it felt right.

“I'm sorry, Please leave. And please, please don't tell anyone about this.” You could see the regret in his face as he sat down on his chair, head in hands refusing to make eye contact with you and instead choosing to stare at the hardwood floor instead, and you knew if anyone found out about this you both would be kicked out the publishing house together.

“I won't. Good night, sir.” and as you exited that room, you could hear a faint “good night” from your editor, who was too ashamed to even speak any louder.

And as you left, you failed to notice the bright pink figure of the Guuji beside the entrance of the conference room, who had eavesdropped on that entire conversation.

________

It had been 11 days since then. 11 days of Ayato wondering whatever it was that you wanted to tell him that day, hoping you would at least write him a letter. But no letter came, and neither did you.

While the Kamisato's days went by quite peacefully and ordinarily, yours were much, much different.

Back at Yae Publishing House that day, the Guuji held your editor back to tell him to get you to write some sort of romance novel around this plot– A careless writer who has amazing skill in writing, but barely manages to keep her job due to the troubles caused by her family, and her editor who has to beg the higher-ups to let her keep her job, who's also hopelessly in love with her.

While the plot is good, you weren't too happy having it recommended to you in that way. Does the Guuji think you have romantic feelings for your editor? or is it vice versa ?

Whatever it is that the Guuji thought, it didn't matter right now, because she demanded the first volume of the comic book that was about to be serialised be done in 15 days. With 11 days already gone by, and everything done on your part, you finally had some leisure time to enjoy, leisure time you were spending laying on the floor in front of the fan sipping cold lavender melon juice peacefully, almost on your way to dreamland.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, no one was there, or so you had thought, not having noticed the little kid dressed like a mujina at your doorstep at first, looking sleepy as ever.

“Oh, hello! What is it that brings you here to my doorstep, little one ?” as you bent down to greet the sleepy child, you felt a muscle in your back ache. Ah, the consequences of having the worst sleeping posture known to man.

“I'm not ‘little one’. My name is Sayu. I'm from the shuumatsuban, and Mr. Yashiro Commissioner sent me to relay an important message to you.” as she finishes her sentence, she hands you a little paper from her back pocket that says “I have something important to speak to you about. Come meet me. -your personal calligrapher”

Oh. You're done.

What could it possibly be about !? What could Kamisato Ayato, Clan head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner have to talk about that would be important to you !? Whatever it was, it was scaring you.

“Do I have to go right now?” as nervous as you were, you were also curious, what the hell was this man upto? and actually, was he even upto something, or was this just something to get you to come to the estate as quickly as possible?

“Yes, that's what he said anyway.” as she said this, Sayu sounded so, so done with you and Ayato that you couldn't really do anything. It seemed like if you didn't go right now, as soon as possible, Sayu would fall asleep right on your doorstep.

“Alright, then, let us leave. But wait- just one thing-” and so, you went to your bedside table to pick up that diary you always took to Kamisato Estate, the one you wrote that damnee confession in- but, it wasn't there? surely you placed it somewhere else when under the influence of fatigue and forgot.. Well, with Sayu's patience running thinner- you should probably just leave finding that diary to your future self.

Sayu was not at all interested in whatever it was that went on between you and Ayato, she kept quiet the whole way from your house to the Kamisato Estate, except for a yawn or two in the middle.

Your attempt at distracting yourself from whatever it was that Ayato wanted to talk to you about by looking at the flowers and the trees as you made your way to the estate was not quite successful.. for as the dew drops fell off from the roses, you could feel yourself perspire as well.

When you finally stepped foot in Kamisato Estate, you saw him, Kamisato Ayato, simply leaning on his balcony ledge gazing at the horizon, unaware of your resence and all he made you feel. You were quite sure this amount of sweating could submerge Jinren Island.

Jinren Island being submerged aside, no one was there at the estate except Ayato. Miss Furuta wasn't standing at her usual place, Koharu wasn't busy cleaning something that doesn't even look like it needs cleaning, and even Mr. Madarame was nowhere to be seen.

As you were busy analyzing the current state of the ground you were standing on, Sayu's voice spoke—

“Mr. Yashiro Commissioner, I brought them.”

Ayato turned around, his eyes finally meeting yours after what seemed to be an eternity to him.

“Oh, thank you Sayu. You may go now.”

As the man came to sit down, he signaled you to sit near him as well, contrary to how you would usually sit, on the opposite side of the table. “Sit here, you sure look like you need to.” his voice beamed, and you could feel your heart burst into eight thousand pieces upon hearing him talk to you again.

While you were most delighted to finally talk to him again, you couldn't help but wonder where the staff went, therefore naturally, you asked him as he poured his tea from the kettle into his little cup,

“So… where's all the staff gone?”

“Disappointed no one's here to give you free snacks, huh? Don't worry, I'm quite generous when it comes to my food, Here, want a sip?” and as his sentence came to an end, he offered you a cup of tea by raising it to your lips, which you pushed away as politely as you could. “You know I don’t drink tea, right? You asking me multiple times isn't going to change that..”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“But seriously, where are all the staff? in all my days spent procrastinating here, I've never seen it so empty..”

“I told them to take a break as I was going to have an important person over to discuss some very important, urgent matters, and for that discussion, I need some privacy.”

“But then why not have the meeting in your chamber? Enough privacy there, no?”

“Of course, of course, but you see, this client of mine, they think my chamber is really stuffy and feels suffocating. So naturally, I decided to have said meeting here.”

“Oh, so uhm, when is this meeting of yours? considering the staff are already gone..It must be soon, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes.. Infact, for the staff, the meeting has already started.”

“Wait.. Am I..?”

“Go on, you're almost there.”

“Jackass, I'm the ‘super important’ person you were meeting, huh?”

“See, this is exactly why this meeting is being held. The way you address me, the way you talk to me.. it's not exactly the usual way I'm addressed.. Not even my friends behave this way with me.”

“You have friends?”

“Of course I- See ! that's my point, you talk so nonchalantly to me, what do you think people would think of you as when they see you acting like this in public ?”

“Disrespectful? Discourteous? Rude? Impolite? Ill-mannered?”

“My beautiful Oxford dictionary, that's not what I meant. Don't you think people would look at us joking around and think of us as lovers ?”

As soon as you heard that “beautiful”, oh goodness, you were done for. you had fallen so deep in love with this man it was beyond any find and rescue team to help you. you couldn't make an answer to that statement, no, you were busy in dreamland wondering if all these people at the estate saw you and Ayato talk to each other and thought, “oh, these two definitely have something going on.”

Snap. one snap of his fingers in front of your face, and you were thrown right back into reality.

“So?”

“Uhm, we don't go out much, actually, we've never gone out together, so that's not a problem as far as I'm concerned.”

“The way you say it.. it's almost like you're mad we never go out.”

“Well, we don't. I've never even stepped foot on the east side of the estate.. let alone go anywhere with you.”

“Hm? Let's go there then.” near the end of his sentence, he placed his teacup down and got up, walking to the same place he was standing before you came here, and so you followed.

As he leaned on the ledge of the balcony, his body facing the horizon, he looked at you, hands crossed, yours facing him.

“So? What do you think, are we qualified to go out now?” he spoke, turning towards you, and as he turned, he looked up at something and then smirked, his eyes returning to you. Goodness, he looked so hot— but wait, what was he staring at? before you could fully turn your head to face behind you, his left arm quickly got hold of the side of your neck that you were about to turn, “Why are you-”

“Answer my question first.” throughout this exchange, his hand was still there on your neck holding it from turning around.

“Yes, we can go out together, but what the hell is behind me that you don't want me to see?”

Leaning in towards your ear, he spoke. And to say his lips were one breath away from touching your temple is an understatement. “You remember the thing i told you about the staff, right? Well, they've all gathered near the first window of the second floor, and are currently looking at us, waiting for something to happen.” while he said all this, he was staring daggers into Thoma's soul, who, being the one who accidentally spread the rumour that Ayato was going to confess his feelings for you today, was awkwardly smiling at the slightly pissed off clan head, whose confession of love was about to turn into a source of entertainment for his staff, and of course, something to tease him about later for his sister, also present with the staff. Finishing his sentence, he finally pulled away from you.

“But.. waiting for what to happen..?” trying to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down from what just happened, you focused back on the conversation.

“Waiting for me to confess.”

Stop the clock. He didn't mean confess his love, did he? Surely there's no way.

“C-confess what!?”

“That- ah, I can't believe I'm saying this in such an ordinary way, but listen, I'm not a man of poetry, or atleast, writing it. I tried to, believe me, but it just looked so awkward to me, nothing compared to what you wrote for me in your diary-”

“YOU READ THAT POEM?”

Ayato put his hands on your shoulders, and in an attempt to calm you down, spoke forth.

“Hey now! Let's calm down, alright? I didn't read anything beyond the 9th line because Ayaka snatched it away from me, so please, don’t be mad. I should have realised I was in no place to open someone else's very personal diary, and I don't even know if that poem was meant for me, but I just-”

“No.. Ayato, you're.. You're too sweet. I'm sure you had no ill intentions, I only freaked out because it was so surprising, and since it was indeed meant for you. And you can read the whole poem afterwards, but for now, please, please go on about what you were telling me.”

“I can't just go on like this, not after you've told me you wrote about me- Me, of all people! Me, after you've written about the sun, the seas, the sky, the surreal- after all that, you wrote about me. And so beautifully, too, I can't go on, not with my life, not with whatever it was I originally wanted to say.” his expression was one you had never seen before, so full of innocence, he looked like a wet puppy in the rain, like he'd die of a cold if you didn't shelter him right away, and you could swear you saw tears welling up in his eyes, and all this because you wrote about him, all this because his feelings were returned, all this because he finally felt loved.

You couldn't even respond, hell, you couldn't even choke back tears, and so as you were processing his words, you wrapped your arms around his torso and went in to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He returned the hug, one arm around your shoulders, and one running over your head, a tear dropping on your head as he did.

When you both pulled away from the hug, it was just laughter and wiping away each others’ tears, until you both were staring at each other fondly. And then Ayaka's voice could be heard from the back— “I told you they wouldn't kiss!” followed by a subdued Thoma, “my mora..”

“You know we can hear, right? And betting on my love life? Seriously?” As Ayato turned to reply to his sister, the staff scurried away, not wanting to be noticed by him, and as amused as you were, you didn't join in on the conversation, instead choosing to pull Ayato's collar towards yourself and pulling his lips onto yours. Before Ayaka could respond, Ayato leaned in to the kiss, cupping your face with his hands, and you could feel him smirk a bit.

He chuckled while pulling away from you, turning to a very surprised Ayaka and Thoma, mouths open in bewilderment,

“So... I guess Thoma wins?”

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ace-race-ace · 2 months

Text

The delusional Danny Ric fan make me so mad. (Not a Danny hate post)

You can tell most of them are purely in for the DTS-like drama (nothing wrong with the show itself as long as you take it with a grain of salt) who don’t understand anything about reality in a professional sport.

Why don’t they fire Checo??

Because he just recently signed a fucking contract! Do you know how hard and expensive it is to break something like that? Even with the “exit clauses” the teams still have to prove without a doubt that that Checo has breached them. That takes time and money. They much rather wait until the end of the season where they might have more “proof” and get the contract broken then, much easier. It’s also a question of reputation, the team doesn’t want to lose face and seem like they drop people harshly like this out of nowhere. That doesn’t bode well for fans, investors, and employees who would rather see a strong team.

B-but they fired Pierre and Alex like that!

Because those two were nobodies back then! At their time at RedBull, they never brought in a win. And of course the car was to blame at the time but as a team perspective, they had one incredible driver that was winning while his teammates were struggling to even stay in the points. Obviously they were going to try and change things up to see if they could get a better result. Those two didn’t have a big dedicated fan base yet, at least not as big as Checo’s. So switching them wouldn’t have as much impact.

Checo has been at RedBull for a while now and has proven he can win and get on the podium more consistently. He supported Max into getting his first WDC. He gave them their first driver championship 1-2. He’s got a hefty resume with them, getting rid of him isn’t as easy. If they do replace him, they won’t do when all the eyes are on them.

Danny also has a lot of wins at RedBull, and he’s a better driver!!!

He may be, maybe not. It’s so nonsensical to try and claim that another driver would immediately be better in that car. All the f1 cars are different, feel different, drive different. You can’t know for certain it won’t take a few races for Danny to get use to the car. Which displaces a driver who knows how to drive the RB20, Checo, which gives him a better chance of getting back up to form.

It also goes back to the point of how complicated it is to switch drivers like this. Both have contracts and are going to fight for their side. Danny can’t just swoop in, sign a contract and replace Checo. Checo can push against that. He’s been a driver at RedBull for a while now, living and breathing the brand while Danny has jumped around. So it’s beneficial to hang on to him at least till the end of the season.

Ugh it’s all about moneyyyy!

Yes. Welcome to how companies work. As long as they aren’t actively losing money by keeping Checo, they will wait until it is easier to get rid of him if they decide to do so. Checo is also incredibly popular in Mexico and other South American countries (and all around the world) which gets him a huge amount of sponsorship money. Danny is also well surrounded but he’s not as adored by a big country like Checo is. His sponsors won’t be as big. The thing he has going for him is a great PR persona, and that gets you pretty far until a certain point. And again, trying to fiddle with things now would cost RedBull a lot of money, so they will wait to make their move.

Do I believe in the whole Liberty Media/FIA meddling thing? Ehh maybe? They don’t actively have the power to tell RedBull to keep Checo but they might have used their data to discourage them from dropping Checo. In the end, it’s the company that makes the decision.

*keeps harassing the team and Checo*

Please stop. The team are never going to read shit immature fans post on social media and be like “oh yeah, they’re totally right! We need to fire Checo now!”. It just makes interacting with the content they post less enjoyable. You can watch a funny video of Checo and Max doing a challenge, and go to the comments to laugh at jokes people are making but instead it’s flooded with Checo haters that insult everything from his driving, his looks, his personality, his RACE in some extreme cases. It’s so annoying, and the poor admins that probably have to comb through all that, waisted time. Meanwhile people spam shit about Danny being better. Bro, these driver are just trying to do their job. Again, Checo isn’t going to read “Danny ric is better” and be like “oh shit they’re right, let me quit the job I’ve worked my entire life for!”. It just causes unnecessary hate and pain for everyone involved. Even Danny probably doesn’t enjoy how his “fans” are handling this shit. It only puts pressure on him to do something when he knows he can’t. And he’s on good terms with Checo and team as far as I can tell but constantly harassing/hating is only going to strain that relationship.

Please have some media literacy. Stop harassing people. And stop treating this sport like fictional story.

Sorry for the rant. Had to get it off my chest. (Btw, I don’t hate Danny or DTS fans so no need to come attack me in my inbox about that 😆)

#f1 #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo #checo perez #sergio perez #max verstappen #red bull racing

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st4rg1rl-16 · 7 months

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━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗜𝗫 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!11 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ mattia calls for a meeting to talk about the relationship between his drivers, after it nick becomes suspicious about his feelings towards arabella

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 10 april

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ shanghai, china

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ anxiety, anxiety attack, sexism (there’s going to be a lot of this in this fic) mattia binotto slowly starting to show his true colors, kids being little shits to our babygirl

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ i was going to post this yesterday for valentines but since I’m single af and I was tired and bored of seeing all those people in love I tried to do my own bangs and guess what? i fucked up HAHSHSH so I was sad (I still am, I hate my hair so much right now) btw the parts in cursive like this are flashbacks or little previews of the future, keep that in mind!!!

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90 @wcnorris

• — need for speed’s masterlist

“OH, I also receive threats from tifosi. Things like "You are a traitor, you have left Ferrari for the enemy."

"Why did you leave Ferrari?" The interviewer, sitting in front of her but out of the eye of the camera, asked her.

The twenty-two-year-old Arabella let out a laugh in a snort raising her hips to get more comfortable in the armchair “Ferrari was not very... kind to me so I stopped being kind to Ferrari”.

Two, almost three, years earlier, an eighteen-year-old Arabella was sitting in an uncomfortable chair without being able to avoid comparing the beginning of her day to that moment. The cold office did not look anything like the warm room, the uncomfortable chair could not be compared to the comfortable and soft bed and, of course, the look that Mattia Binotto was giving her was the opposite of the affectionate and warm look that Charles had given her when she had woken up in his arms.

She looked up at her manager, who watched her standing behind Ferrari's boss, with his arms crossed over his chest and serious face. Next to him was Charles' manager.

She looked down at her hands where her fingers had begun to play with the rings that occupied the opposite fingers. She wanted to look at Charles to see a smile, a look or at least feel his hand against her giving hers a squeeze trying to say that everything was going to be fine but she preferred not to do it.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, I don't want to waste some time we need" The Italian's black curls peeked out under the red cap when he shook his head looking at his wrist where a watch was. He looked up to the front again to see his drivers “Are you dating, yes or no?”.

A deep silence crossed the room after the question while the three "adults" looked at them expectantly. The silence was clear but for Arabella there was a lot of noise in the room, she could hear her heart beating in her ears, Charles' breathing next to her, the annoying noise that Binotto's fingertips made when he hit the glass of his desk.

When he saw that they didn't answer, the Italian let out a sigh “I need you to tell me the truth. It's not that I care who you sleep with but the men above seem to care and they don't find it funny their drivers dating” He looked at them desperately “You can lose your seats in Ferrari because of this, guys”.

"It would be a breach of contract," Nicolas, the manager of the 16, said in a sigh. He looked at his client with severity “Not only would you lose your position in Ferrari but you could be sued”.

An alarm began to sound non-stop in the head of the youngest in the room, suddenly she felt a dizziness and her chest contracted. She thought of her parents, of her brother, of her eleven-year-old self. It would be a disappointment for them.

Everything she had fought for would go to hell in a second.

She dared to look at Charles sideways and when she did she had to take a breath, he was already looking at her. She separated her gaze from his and lowered it to the ground, her hands began to play with each other again before she squeezed her jaw and looked up: looking, for the first time since she had entered the room, at their boss.

"We're just friends, can't friends hold hands?" A crooked smile slipped down her lips while she shrugged "I'm sorry, I can't help it, I'm very affectionate. You can ask Carlos, Lando or anyone, I'm always holding hands with them or hugging them”.

The eldest of the room turned to her manager looking for confirmation and when he saw Nick nod he let out a sigh of relief that almost went unnoticed by the others present. He turned his gaze to the young duo in front of him and nodded to himself "Well, then there's not much to say. You are free to go”.

The first to get up from the chair was the girl, who began to go to the glass door wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. She heard the chair in which Charles was sitting crawling on the floor and a short time later she felt his presence behind her. She placed her hand on the doorknob ready to leave but the voice of the team boss stopped her.

"Avoid expressions of affection in public, please. We can let it go once, but twice...”His tone was calm but it hid something behind his words, the girl didn't want to jump to conclusions but could swear that it was a threat. She knew that the words were for the both of them, but then, why did she feel his eyes only on her?.

She heard Charles' voice respond with a "Yes, sir" while she turned again to get out of there once and for all but then she heard her name with a slight Italian accent overflowing through the white walls causing her hand to freeze on the doorknob, she closed her eyes strongly waiting for the worst.

"I'm sorry for what has happened in Twitter, the advertizing team has already taken care of everything. I can't even imagine what you've been through” His words were nice and even somewhat kind but the tone with which he had said them made it clear that those were not the feelings he really felt towards the girl. She looked at him over her shoulder, ignoring the questioning expression on Charles' face and the frown of her manager, and nodded before running out of there.

She passed through the garage aware of the not at all disguised looks of the team on her, she accelerated the pace wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible.

She needed to be alone, get away from reality even if it was for ten minutes. She felt that at any moment she was going to faint.

She went to her driver’s room, she was mentally grateful that the area of the rooms was empty, she hurried to close the door but Charles' foot in the middle prevented her from doing so. She looked up slowly over the boy's leg until she reached his face, she snarled.

"Move”.

“No”.

"Charles, move” She pushed the door but with the boy's foot in the middle it didn't move too much. She looked at him angrily “Remove it or I'll destroy your foot”.

"We have to talk about what has happened, Bells" He looked at her pleadingly but she still didn't remove her expression from her face.

"There's nothing to talk about" She snarled, squeezing her grip on the doorknob "Everything has already become clear in there”.

The Monegasque bit his lower lip, this could not be happening. Only four hours ago they were lying in bed kissing until they were out of breath. He looked at her face, her precious face, and cursed himself for having fallen into her charms. Because of them, they were now on a thin line that threatened to break. He felt guilty, he was the one who had kissed her, he was the one who was looking for her, he had started everything.

On the other hand, he was angry, with Binotto, with him and right now with her. Why did she have such a hard time talking about things? Why did she run away at the first change? He thought that maybe it was because she was younger than him, after all, they were three years apart and she was only eighteen, she was a still a kid.

He sighed leaning his forehead on the door “Whether you like it or not, we have to talk”.

A silence formed between the two that was soon interrupted by the girl's sobs trying to escape through her throat, he heard her sip her nose.

"What do we have to talk about, Charles?" She no longer sounded angry but sad and hurt, her voice trembled "We can't be together, if we do we will lose our seats. Everything is against us”.

A puncture made a hole in the male driver’s chest “So that's it? Don't you want us to be together?”.

She opened the door and pushed him into the room, closed the door quickly. Unfortunately, now they couldn't risk anyone seeing them arguing or anything. Now they would have to think very carefully about what their interactions would be like both in public and in private, you never know because as her grandmother said "the walls have ears and eyes."

Charles dedicated himself to observing her, her green eyes were already injected with blood and her cheeks wet. Her nose was red. He felt even worse because he knew it was his fault.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you, it's that I can't!" She exclaimed frustrated. She was tired, she felt that all this was way big for her. Her anxiety didn't help the situation too much and that she had little experience in couple arguments wasn't very helpful either. She moved her hands in front of her showing her frustration, she didn't really know how to express her feelings or her thoughts “I can't risk everything I've achieved, everything I've suffered for”.

"And you think I haven't suffered?" He looked at her in disbelief "I have also suffered to get here. It took me a long time to get here, you know?”.

An ironic smile stuck on her lips as she snorted “You have grown up with money, with friends and a dick between your legs. I didn't. I hardly had any money to eat, the other children didn't want to be my friends and I was a girl. You don't know how difficult it is to be a girl in this world and much less in a sport in which there are only men. So yes, it may be that you have suffered, but I don't think you have suffered the same as I did”.

"I understand, but you can't run away just like that" He tried to touch her arm but she moved away, he licked his dry lips and frowned feeling rejected "What did Mattia mean by what happened in Twitter?".

He observed how the color went away from her skin and how her face deformed showing several emotions that he didn’t know how to decipher although he could differentiate the fear from the others before faking a look of indifference “I don't know”.

"Yes, you do" He raised his arm pointing to her face "You have it written all over your face, don't lie to me”.

"I'm not lying to you”.

"Then tell me!".

"There's nothing to tell".

Both began to raise their voices, one more fed up than the other of the conversation. It was clear that neither of them wanted to have that conversation but, unfortunately, you don't always have what you want.

Charles' face began to take the same color as the red that decorated some of the walls and objects of the room, a vein began to take shape on his forehead “Let me help you, Arabella! I'm here for you, it's not that hard, fuck!”.

"Maybe not for you, but for me it is!" She shouted back, her eyes getting redder and red as tears ran freely down her cheeks. She put a hand to her chest and pulled her shirt “I feel like I can't breathe every time I want to explain how I feel and you want me to let you help me because...don't you feel connected to me or something like that?! I'm sorry, okay?! I'm sorry I'm not like the other girls you've dated, I'm sorry I can't tell you at all times what I'm thinking or feeling!”.

Finally the silence was present between them, the only thing that could be heard was the girl's quick breathing and how the boy absorbed his nose from time to time. Both were with red eyes and soaked cheeks.

Finally she let out a sob breaking the silence, wiped her nose with the sleeve of her red sweatshirt and gave him a sad smile “I'm sorry, but I can't risk it”.

"Ma belle, I..." The angriness that ran through his body was still there but now Charles felt bad, bad because she was right.

She took a breath of air feeling an anxiety attack cover her body, squeezed her lips trying to swallow the sob that was on its way down her throat and looked at him with her eyes bathed in tears "Everything has gone very fast and look at us" She pointed between the two while shaking her head "Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. We should give ourselves some time”.

And with that she turned around and, again, she ran out of there, leaving Charles trying to pick up the pieces of his broken heart from the ground.

“ELVIRA, Elvira...” The tall man's gaze moved non-stop throughout the red garage, trying to find the black and smooth hair between the sea of red shirts.

He clicked his tongue rolling his hand in the bicep of his little girl's engineer, Alexander raised his neck to look at him curiously.

"Have you seen Elvira?" He asked urgently to which the eldest smiled broadly, kneeling his index finger in the chest of the tall one, he looked at his finger frowning before turning his gaze to the man.

"I knew that there was something between you two" He also clicked his tongue shaking his head while the blond looked at him as if a second head had come out on his shoulder.

He began to question whether that man was in a good mental state to be a Formula One engineer but he ignored it, it was not the time.

"Have you seen her yes or no?"

"Ah, yes, yes" He took off his glasses and wiped them clean with the edge of his red polo shirt before pointing in the opposite direction "I think I saw her go around there”.

He sighed a thank you before starting to jog in that direction. He felt a bad feeling on his chest, he knew that something was not right as soon as he left the office of the head of the team. Had he heard wrong or had Binotto threatened Arabella? Well, technically he had threatened both of them but while he was doing it, he could see his gaze on the girl more than on the monegasque.

He moved in the direction of the cafeteria, he lightened his step when he saw the black, long and smooth hair move on one side on the fabric of the red polo shirt that covered Elvira's back. He approached her exclaiming her name, making her stand in her place and turn to look at her.

"What did Mattia say?" She asked him once he was close to her. The publicist observed him worried because although she knew Arabella for a short time, she had taken affection for her and was worried about her.

He took her by the elbow and started pulling her “Come, we have to talk somewhere where they don't hear us”.

The woman's frown furrowed as she looked at the back of the blond's head, beginning to feel anguish in her chest “It was that bad?”

He pulled her until he found a small space between garages, they both got into the small "alley" hoping that there was no one nearby to listen to them.

"Nick, can you tell me what happened?!" Elvira was already hysterical, her coworker was getting on her nerves with so much secrecy.

He raised his hands trying to calm her down "Well, okay, okay" He put both hands on his hips and took a breath “I have the slight suspicion that Binotto has threatened Arabella”.

"What?" She looked at him strangely "What do you mean, has he threatened her?".

"He was scolding them over the photo that has gone viral but his gaze was on her all the time, it was as if Charles was not present. And in the end he said something like "it can't be repeated again" and, seriously, Elvi, he just looked at her!”

"But, it doesn't have to. Arabella hasn't done anything wrong”.

"Not everyone likes a woman in Formula One, Elvira. Mattia may be one of them”

"But he has been treating her well so far”.

"Maybe he was trying to be professional until he saw the opportunity" He sighed running his hand over his face showing his frustration.

Maybe they were taking things out of context but when there was as much money involved as there was in Formula One, neither of them was surprised that the situation was true.

Both remained silent, weighing the situation and the consequences it would bring with it if it were true.

The woman with pale skin like milk bit her lower lip “Do you think she has noticed?”.

"I know she did. Arabella is an observer, of course she has noticed” He nodded, turning his head to look for something to sit on. There were a couple of boxes so he took a few steps back and sat on top of them, he really needed to sit down. He felt that his blood pressure was raising.

"And what are you going to do?".

"For the moment, try not to get her into some scandal that involves Leclerc, keep an eye on Mattia and pray that these two years will pass quickly and without any problems”.

"And when her contract with Ferrari ends?".

"Last month Toto Wolff made it very clear that he is interested in Arabella, Zak and Christian are also looking to sign her" He denied with a smile on his face, but it was not a smile of joy but one of incredibleness.

"Horner? I don't think it's a good idea for her to go to Red Bull, not when they have Verstappen”.

He nodded in agreement with her “Yes, they would belittle her as they do with Pierre but if she goes to Mercedes they would do the same, they have the five-time champion as the leading driver”.

"Valtteri doesn't seem very unhappy" She crossed her arms resting his back on the wall.

"This sucks" He let out a sigh, throwing his head back "When she was in Formula Two, everything was much easier. I miss that”.

She looked at him with empathy “But now she is in Formula One. She is going to be a star, Nick”.

"But the stars fall from the sky and I don't want her to be hurt. You've already seen what they say about her on the internet, she's just a little girl!” Unintentionally, his head revived yesterday when his was in his hotel room watching a chinese romantic comedy and suddenly his phone seemed to explode from all the notifications he was receiving. He almost started to cry when he read the things people said about Arabella.

"She is a little girl who drives a car at three hundred kilometers per hour defying death every weekend. She is a little girl who has entered in Fotmula One, something that no little girl has been able to achieve for many years” She approached him looking at him with sadness because she knew it hurt. I knew that the girl was the closest thing he had to a daughter “You know she's not just a little girl”.

"But it's been so recently that her race suit was bigger than her" An expression of melancholy crossed his face as he remembered a little Arabella fighting with her race suit so that it didn't fall off her waist.

"I know that you've known her for many years and that you see her as a daughter and that's why it hurts you that all this is happening because you know that it also hurts her, but it's her dream, isn't it?" She looked at him expectantly and after a few seconds he nodded.

He began to play with his hands, a bead bracelet, clearly made by a little girl, peeked out of the sleeve of his left arm attracting the woman's attention. It was seen that it was old because the beads were white but with pieces of colors staining them indicating that they had lost the color and the rope on which it held itself seemed to be struggling for every second of it’s life.

She was able to appreciate the letters forming a 'Nicky ♡'.

"I have shed sweat, blood and tears for that girl since I met her ten years ago" He began to play with the bracelet, an act he did every time he was nervous "And I have never asked for anything in return, only that nothing ever happened to her but now there are fifty thousand people saying dirty shit about her on twitter, her boss seems to hate her and I don't know what to do. I always know what to do but not now” The air got stuck in his chest and his voice trembled becoming hoarse “And I can't ask her because she has trouble letting people help her, now I never know what she's thinking and I know that her anxiety is not helping. And I'm afraid because I'm the one who must protect her, her parents gave me that honor and now I can't do it”.

She stroked her arm to tell him that she was there for him, she felt a tear running down her cheek "You're doing well, Nick. Just... talk to her and make it clear that you are there for her.”

The man let out a little laugh “I wish it was so easy”.

“AND Arabella Torres crosses the finish line two minutes apart from Marcos Gómez!

From ear to ear, the smile of the eleven-year-old girl couldn't be bigger. From the podium she looked at the audience and smiled even more –if it was possible– when some hands showed up in front of her and extended the trophy. Her small hands took it between tremors, she analyzed it for a few seconds before lifting it over her head. She looked at her podium teammates waiting to see their smiles but it wasn't like that, both children looked at her seriously before looking at each other sharing a look of displeasure.

Suddenly her smile no longer reached her ears.

She lowered the trophy and after the photos she got off the podium, trying to find her parents. She pulled the brilliant trophy without much desire going to where they decided that she would meet with her family after finishing the race.

"I'm sick of her" The voice of the second winner of the day filled her ears, she frowned and hid behind a wall of one of the trailers.

Listening to other people's conversations is wrong, Arabella. Her mother would have said but she couldn't help it.

"I don't understand what she is doing here" Another voice joined him "She's a girl! This is not for girls”.

"My father said that they let her win because her family is very poor”.

"In addition to the fact that she is very annoying, I hate her. She gives me a headache just for listening to her”.

"She's not even good at driving”.

"She thinks she is a big deal for being the only girl but she'll never get to anything”.

Maybe she should have thought more about what her mother told him and not let curiosity win her over. Because as they say, curiosity killed the cat but this time it killed the heart of little Arabella.

A pout began to threaten to be present on her small lips, she released the trophy and turned around ready to run away but her body crashing into a larger one prevented her from doing so.

"I'm sorry" She murmured, passing her small hand formed in a fist through her eyes, trying to wipe away the tears.

"Don't worry" The man bent down to see her better, he extended a tissue to her "You're today's champion, right?".

She frowned slightly when she heard him speak in english and let out the smallest of sighs, it's not that she was bad at english but she still didn't speak it fluently and it was a little tedious for her to have to be speaking in another language being sad.

She looked up a little, enough to see the tissue in his hands and accepted it murmuring a "Thank you" before wiping her face, once she did she looked at the man.

"Sebastian Vettel" A gasp came out of her little lips when she realized that he was the Formula One driver. She couldn't believe it, it was Sebastian Vettel!

The german laughed "Yes, that's me. What's your name?”.

"Arabella" She said and he extended his hand to her, she looked at him curiously.

"Nice too met you, Arabella” Between his gigantic hand he took hers and waved them up and down "Now, can you tell me why you were crying? Are you lost? I can help you find your parents”.

"No, no, I know where they are" The tissue moved with every gesture that the little girl made and Vettel smiled again, the girl seemed adorable with her big green eyes and dressed in her little race suit.

He had always wanted to have a daughter, he was still very young but he was sure of it and even more so after seeing little Arabella.

"Well, then?".

He regretted asking because he quickly noticed that she was uncomfortable, he squeezed his lips in a thin line waiting for the girl to say something. He opened his mouth to talk because it seemed like she wasn't going to tell him anything but he shut up when she suddenly answered.

"The other children hate me for being a girl" She shrugged, looking down at the tissue in her hands, began to play with it while a sad smile stuck in her lips "It’s okay, not always people have to like me”.

A puncture made a hole in the blond driver's chest. How is it that a little girl of nine, ten or eleven years old –he wasn’t very sure about her age– could speak like that? He grimaced by responding to himself, probably because she was already used to being rejected.

He looked at her with sympathy “That's true, not everyone will always like you and that's why you don't care. You have to ignore what they tell you or think, the only important thing here is you”.

Arabella looked at him with bright eyes and admiration coming out of every pore of her body because one of her favorite Formula One drivers was there in front of her giving her some advice. A piece of advice that she would take very serious.

"Seb, Seb!" A blond boy with blue eyes shouted the german's name as he ran towards them. Arabella looked at him cautiously, she didn't want another boy to make fun of her, much less in front of the next Formula One champion.

The older blond turned as soon as he heard the boy's voice and could swear that if he had looked in front of a mirror he could have seen a light bulb light up above his head. He smiled at the boy when he finally arrived next to them.

"Seb, dad is looking for you" He said between accelerated breaths, swallowed saliva and looked up, colliding with that of the mysterious girl who was with her father's friend. He frowned.

"Yes, I'm coming" Even without erasing his smile, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and brought him closer to him "I want to introduce you to someone”.

"What are you doing?" He asked in german to what Sebastian looked at him badly.

"She's Arabella" He pointed to the girl, making him to look back at her. He observed her, she was a little taller than him and his green eyes attracted more attention than his blue ones. She was in a red and blue rice suit and a trophy was lying on the ground, not far from her, he deduced that she was the champion of the race. She sent him a smile to which he replied blushing, she was beautiful.

Sebastian's smile got bigger “He is Mick and I think you are going to be great friends”.

She hid her face between her arms and squeezed her grip on her knees more, bringing them even closer to her chest if that was possible. She let out several sobs, one stronger than the previous one, almost drowning with her own tears.

She cried for herself, for her family, for the boys and cried for Charles.

She had screwed up everything and she didn't know how she was going to fix it or if she could fix it.

She regretted everything and for a moment she wanted to go back to that moment when she decided to sit for the first time in that kart that was not for her and avoid it, if she had not touched it maybe now she would be in college and would be a normal girl with normal problems or maybe she would be unemployed struggling to find something to put in her mouth, she didn't know but at that moment anything seemed better than the present.

At what point had she stopped being in a hotel room living a honeymoon moment with Charles to have broke up with him, to have been threatened by her boss to fire her and be sexualized on twitter?.

"Oh, tyttö" Little girl. She heard someone's voice bringing her back to reality, she still didn't raise her head because her body had stopped working, she didn't feel anything. "What happened to you?".

She heard a few steps and then a presence near her, she felt like some hands made her raise her head, finding Kimi Räikönnen's cold blue eyes looking at her with some concern.

She couldn't answer, when she tried to speak her lips contracted in a pout and another sob ran away for them. The blond frowned, holding her head.

"You have to breathe, tyttö” He said but he didn't get an answer. The girl in front of him really looked like a corpse. He moved her head between his hands “Eh! Tyttö, are you listening to me? Breathe with me, c’mon”.

He began to do breathing exercises trying to get the girl to follow him, his heart jumped in his chest when she began to follow him. They stayed like that for about fifteen minutes until she stopped crying and was able to keep her head high on her own.

Once he separated from her, an uncomfortable silence embraced them. The eldest looked at her “Eh...Do you want to talk about it?”.

The girl shook her head and he felt a little relieved "How did you know what to do?".

"I'm a father, tyttö." He raised the bottle of water he had left on the floor as if he were toasting and drank from it "I know how to do everything”.

She let out a small smile at the finn's attitude and began to play shyly with the zipper of her jacket. The blond looked at her curiously.

"Is this for Binotto?" Arabella raised her head looking at him surprised.

"How...?"

"I'm friends with some of the engineers. I heard them talk about the twitter thing and Binotto scolding you and Leclerc”.

She let out a moan taking her gaze to her shoes “Great, so everyone knows”.

"You should not care, you shouldn’t give a fuck" Before the expression the girl laughed covering her knuckles with the sleeve of her jacket and passing the fabric over her cheeks to wipe the tears that silently continued to fall. The blond looked at her from above “You know what? I thought you were tough, I guess I was wrong”.

"Excuse me?" She looked at him somewhat offended.

"I thought you wouldn't care so much about what they'll say" Kimi was trying to get a reaction from her and Arabella, unconsciously, she knew it but still couldn't help but feel his words.

"Well, sometimes you can't take it anymore" She shrugged, looking away from him.

"I know you can do it, but you can't yet" He pointed out "The first day I saw you, I knew you were going to be big, you know? I knew you were going to change things, that you were going to make history" He drank from the bottle of water as if nothing had happened while Arabella looked up to him with her mouth open, was this really happening or had she become unconscious thanks to the anxiety attack?.

She wanted to laugh, the situation literally seemed surreal to her.

"You have a champion's face, so don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t mind them, do whatever you want. Win races, get on the podium and show everyone who you are. If they are going to hate you okay, but give them a reason to hate you: be the best” The finn spoke with passion and knew that it was because he had experienced hatred first hand. He had been in that world for many years, he had seen many friends suffer from the hatred of the public eye but none of them were like her. He knew it was different because she was a woman and very young. She had achieved what many men hadn’t been able to but, right now, before him she was only a scared little girl.

Maybe he wasn't aware of what he was saying to the girl, much less about how her skin had bristled or how something had "clicked" on her head thanks to his words. But he still continued “Make them get bored of seeing you win, I know you can do it but remember that after all not always people like you”

That phrase reminded her of an old friend.

A phone rang, causing him to separate his gaze from her. He looked for the device in his pockets and when he found it he looked at the screen. He raised his head to look at the girl, who was looking at a fixed point in front of her “I have to go. Will you be okay?”

At his question, she raised her head and Kimi could swear that there was something different in her gaze. She gave him a small smile of gratitude “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Räikkönen”.

"Call me Kimi, tyttö”.

And with that he turned around and left, leaving the girl alone again.

She licked his lips observing how the figure of the Alfa Romeo’s driver disappeared in the distance. She tested the salt of her tears on her lips and sighed before moving her hand down her leg, looking for her own phone. She took it out of the pocket and after unlocking it she went to the contact app, her eyes moved all over the screen in unison with her finger, looking for the right name. Once she did it, she pressed the call button.

She put the device in her ear and waited for it to sound “Hey, uhm. I miss you, do you think you can come to the next race?".

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ofstoriesandstardust · 1 month

Text

i miss you, i'm sorry (dani - twisters)

a/n: sooooo i know like four people will read this but twisters was for the bisexuals i said what i said. this is 3/4 of the way written but i was chomping at the bit to get this posted so it's just gonna be split up into two parts. comments and reblog are always appreciated! :)

summary: Seven years. It's been seven years since you broke up with Dani. Seven years since she left to go work for Tyler Owens all because you could never bring yourself to put a name on what she was to you. It's been seven years time since you've seen her. But she's here, in Oklahoma, working for the Tornado Wranglers with that little look in her eye at the sight of you in the StormPar uniform. Seven years and you know you still love her, even though you know you can't have her. It's been seven years. So how come she still looks at you like that?

warnings: car accident, tornados, minor injury, weather inaccuracies, swearing, scott i hate you, gay found family i love you

word count: 2.3k

“Yooooo! Looks like StormPar’s got a new crew!” Someone calls from across the parking lot, and the man from next to you, Robert, rolls his eyes.

“Boone.” He mutters under his breath and you raise an eyebrow.

“Is that some Southern insult I don’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Boone. He’s one of the Tornado Wranglers.”

“Which you all are to stay clear of. Fraternization of any kind is forbidden and a clear breach of your contract. Any contact will have your position terminated.” Scott says, coming from the gas station. You swallow as Scott gives you a once over, before turning to the rest of the team. “Go on, take your last bathroom breaks before we head out there.”

You nod, crossing your arms as a tall man with a cowboy hat rounds the truck, sizing you all up. You follow the crew into the gas station, only planning to fill up your waterbottle and round the corner, running straight into someone.

“Jesus, StormPar!”

“Sorry!” You exclaim, stepping back as the girl bends down to pick up the snacks she dropped. Another girl rounds the corner and it feels like your heart stops beating for a moment as time slows down.

“Lilly, you alright?”

The girl, Lilly, dusts herself off as she stands up. “Yeah, ‘m fine Dani. Are you sure Boone asked for all of this?”

“You’ve changed.” Dani says, eyes roaming over your figure.

“You haven’t.” You respond, swallowing around the lump in your throat.

It’s true. It’s been almost seven years since you’ve seen Dani at this point and yet it feels like yesterday with the way she hasn’t changed. A mischievous twinkle in her eye, the short hair, cowboy hat. Even her sense of style hasn’t changed as she gives you a once-over.

“The two of you know each other?” Lilly asks, a finger wandering between the two of you.

Dani shrugs. “We used to.”

“Lil, Dan, T says we’re rolling out.” Boone says, opening the front door of the gas station to shout out to his friends (co-workers?). You witness several of your colleagues heads swing towards you and you step aside, letting the two girls pass you.

“The hell was that?” Scott says, stepping in line next to you. His jaw is set as he tracks the crew out to the parking lot.

“Nothing.” You say as Scott raises his eyebrow, the tick in his jaw growing stronger. “I knew one of them in college.” You say and Scott’s eyebrows join together.

“You heard what I said out there, yeah? This isn’t the time for you to be chumming it up with an old friend.”

You force a tight smile. “Yeah, I heard you Scott. Don’t worry about it, we left it on pretty bad terms as it was. There’ll be no revisiting old friendships, I swear.”

“Uh huh.” He says, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll be keeping an eye on it.”

“So how do you know dear old Dani?”

You curse under your breath as Boone shouts out at you as you walk towards your motel room.

“Boone, the fuck I’d say about leaving it?” The blond from earlier shouts back as he adjusts stuff on the truck.

“T, I’m just asking what we’re all wondering!”

Your eyes track the numbers on the door as you walk, realizing your door is right where they’ve set up camp. Because of course it is.

“You know it’s rude to ignore people StormPar.” The man says more quietly when it becomes clear you’re ignoring them. You gently excuse yourself as you walk in between an older member of their team and a blond girl, both standing by the grill they’ve got set up.

Someone says your name and you turn, finding Javi. Relief spreads through you, shoulders dropping at the sight of him before dying as quickly as it came.

Right, right, Javi is like public enemy number one to Scott and Riggs, after he pulled out, taking his radars and most of his team with him.

Javi’s fiery exit was the only reason you’d found yourself in Oklahoma instead of the corporate office in Texas, because Riggs had wanted someone on site, on the ground, to do damage control to StormPar’s image in case Javi had started to run his mouth.

Javi had been at your interview, he’d been influential in bringing you on. He’d been your friend and you feel sick as you take a step back, eyes leaving his. Javi doesn’t notice, taking another step towards you with his arms out like he’s going to hug you. You take a few more back as he asks you how you’ve been, sentence trailing off as he realizes you’re trying to get away from him.

“I told you, all StormPar dummies are born assholes.” Lilly mutters, tapping on the tablet she’s holding as she leans on Boone, but not quietly enough for you to miss it as you try to approach your door. You wince, shoving the key into the lock, pushing on the door as it sticks. You keep fumbling with it, inevitably dropping the key as tears blur your vision.

Javi says your name and you blink back the tears stinging at your eyes, turning. “Javi, really- I’m not trying to ignore you or anything but- I could lose my job if I get caught talking to you and I need- you know I need this money.”

“You look like hell.” He comments, sticking his hands in his pockets as his eyes roam over you. “Scott put you guys through the wringer today, at least take a burger. I know he ain’t paying for shit.”

“I can’t.” You say as your eyes dart around, searching for any sign of the StormPar crew.

“Kate, would you-“ The blond girl, Kate, nods, wrapping up one of the burgers the older man had just slid off the grill.

“Javi, I really can’t take that.” You say as he offers it out to you.

“Just take the burger.” Another familiar voice says and your eyes find the ceiling, tracking the flickering light illuminating this side of the hallway as you will yourself to vanish. “If you’re anything like you were then, you probably don’t eat enough as it is.”

“I don’t need your charity, Dani.” You breathe.

“It ain’t charity.” She says, falling next to the older man. “It’s just called being nice.”

Your eyes flicker down to the burger Javi’s still offering you before darting around the parking lot. Most of your crew was staying on the other side of the motel and Scott had driven off half an hour ago to get dinner at some diner a town over.

You hold your hand out for the food, which Javi places gently as his concerned eyes follow you, like you might spook. You turn, setting the key back in the lock, finally clicking this time, and you stumble into the musty room.

You drop your stuff next to the bed, heading straight toward the bathroom. The flickering light turns on overhead with a low buzz as you take yourself in.

Javi was right, you did look like hell.

Your hair was sticking up at all angles and it was a miracle it even appeared in some semblance of a bun. There was mud tracked down your face and shirt, all caked on to your pants too from when you’d slipped, helping Liam with the radar. There was grass in your hair, stained on the whites of your shirt and you’re pretty sure there’s hay in the back of your pants.

As you stand under the lukewarm water, picking clumps of mud out of your hair, you let your mind wander to the girl sitting outside. Occasionally, a loud burst of laughter would erupt and you could hear it through the thin walls.

Seven years gone and seeing her here still made your heart ache. Seven years of failed flings, of ruined first dates, and you always thought of that girl. The girl who’d stood in your shitty studio apartment and cooked for you as you’d recount your lectures from the day, who talked you through essays and term papers despite having no college education herself. The girl who had been so sure of herself it had cost you your relationship.

She seemed happier now, as much as that feels like a dagger to your heart. She seemed more full of life, more truly settled into who she was. Those weren’t just her friends out there, they were her family, and it’s a bittersweet feeling to know she had finally found what she was looking for without you there with her.

You groan, scrubbing a hand down your face. The blond guy, T — why did he seem so familiar to you…

The sound of the door slamming behind Dani echos in your dream as you shoot up with a gasp.

Tyler Owens

You blindly reach for your phone on the nightstand, pulling yourself up as you do.

A frantic Google search tells you everything you need to know.

The early morning light peaks into the window of the diner where all the StormPar crew had been instructed to meet. You’re too engrossed into the YouTube page with a million subscribers to notice someone sliding their plate down in front of you.

You glance up at the sound, heart fluttering as you register Dani’s presence. “Didn’t know you were a fan.” She comments and you’re quick to click off your phone, setting it aside.

“You know, when you said you were leaving ‘cause you had found a job helping a storm chaser named Tyler Owens based out of Arkansas, I didn’t quite imagine it would be all that.” You say with a small shake of your head before taking a bite of hash browns.

There’s a beat as Dani studies you. You let her, all too happy to soak in her attention after the drought of not having her at all.

“You really do look different.” She comments.

You shrug. “A couple of piercings and a haircut will do a lot of things for a girl.”

“You look more yourself.” She says softly.

You swallow, feeling your cheeks heat as you duck your head to avoid having to answer.

It passes though, because she keeps talking.

“I never really expected you to end up with a crew like StormPar.” She says, leaning forward on the table.

You shrug again. “They pay decent and I need the money.” She purses her lips, clearly dissatisfied by your answer. You glance up at her, discomfort growing at the look on her face. “What do you want me to say Dani? I was broke as fuck, my family doesn’t talk to me. I had rent to pay and I needed groceries. I needed a job.”

She raises her eyebrows. “You don’t- you don’t talk to your family anymore?”

You huff, sliding your plate away from you as you wipe your mouth. “Seriously? That’s the part you care about?”

The doorbell jingles and you both turn, seeing the rest of the Wranglers walk in. You’ve learned all their names by now from the two hours you’ve spent watching their channel, learned the way they lean into one another, the way they bounce off each other’s energy. Behind them, you can see Scott’s car pull into the gravel parking lot.

You sigh, pulling some cash out and setting it on the table. “Look Dani, I gotta go.” You stand up, feeling the eyes of her friends burn into you as you do. You pause, sighing. “I’m really happy you found what you’re looking for.” You say softly, rapping your knuckles against the table before turning, pushing past Tyler and Boone.

Javi calls out your name but it gets drowned out in the jingle of the bell as you stride towards Scott.

And so the next two months go.

You and Dani pass each other everyday, like ships in the night.

Never any acknowledgment to who you were to each other or who you had once been.

Scott gets more controlling, as the months go on. He’s fired three people for talking to the Wranglers crew at gas stations or diners and another two for talking to them after hours in motel parking lots. He keeps a closer and closer eye on you despite you putting more distance between you and Dani. He’s practically breathing down your neck.

With every storm that wrecks another town, Scott gets more tense and every failed scan riles him up. The scary vein in his neck pops out more often and every chase gets more terrifying, Scott pushing the limits every time.

You know he’s pushing boundaries he shouldn’t, catching the way Javi had shouted at him after your last chase in the motel parking lot. Javi had made a huge scene, Kate and Boone having to pull Javi back as he shouted that Scott was going to get his whole team killed.

Will it be worth it to Riggs then? When his entire team is a just another casualty number? Will it be worth it to him when his entire team becomes just another headline?

A shiver goes down your spine at the memory and Will, one of the new kids on the crew, looks at you. “You alright?”

You give him a brief smile. “Yeah, fine. You’re gonna take a right up here.”

Will, fresh from his first year of grad school and only here to complete a summer internship, adjusts his hands on the wheel nervously. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Scott seems unstable.”

“I can hear you.” Scott’s voice crackles through the radio.

“Well, you are.” James comments from the other vehicle.

“Get to work, the lot of you.” Scott yells through the radio and Will flinches. You’ll be okay, you mouth to the kid and he nods uncertainly before pressing down on the gas.

The rain starts a few moments later, appearing in a sudden torrential downpour, the wind whipping around you.

“Oh fuck.” You whisper, craning your neck. “I think we’re in the path of the tornado.”

And then everything goes black.

i love you, i'm sorry

#twisters #twisters fic #dani x reader #dani x female reader #twisters dani x reader #twisters dani x female reader

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sbdskate · 8 months

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 9) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings : fluff and cheese, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3,866

A/N: One day I may be one of those writers who is well organized and has a preplanned schedule for posting, but unfortunately (and as my first fic), today is not that day. Thank you for your patience during this writing drought. Another chapter will be on the way after this, hopefully in a couple of weeks after another round of edits. Shout out to @cutelittlefakejourneys for your help. As always, thank you for reading and don't be a ghost reader!

Daniel Ricciardo had been in your room last night. After a long race day filled with anxiety, media, McLaren, and subsequently relief and pride, he had stolen a bottle of champagne from McLaren’s afterparty, and your heart. He had hesitantly conditioned the gift on being consumed after the signing and delicately suggested you share the bottle, evidently afraid he would tear the fragile string that connected the two of you since the beginning. But you didn’t want to wait, so you had invited him in.

“So that’s how you open a bottle without spilling half of it?”

“What can I say, I’m a woman of many talents. Would you feel more comfortable if I gave you one of my heels to drink out of?” He laughed.

“Nah, not dirty or sweaty enough.”

He looked around to see what you had made of your private space. In contrast to the crisp outward appearance you presented as you strutted through the paddock in your tailored suits, your hotel room was a mess. Laptop open, papers spread out over every surface. Your petite figure was dwarfed by the oversized, plush hotel robe. Behind closed doors he realized you were quite ordinary. Not that you were unremarkable, but in the sense that you were perfectly imperfect.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To finish lines.”

You started out at least trying to be prim and proper, using the hotel’s water glasses as vessels. But at a certain point decorum went out the window and you simply passed the bottle between you sitting cross legged on the floor. Even though it was late, the hours passed like sand through an hourglass.

“Biggest celebrity crush growing up?”

“Leonardo DiCaprio. Easy. Man has been attractive literally at all stages of my life, from the time I was six watching ‘Growing Pains’ to now. Dude aged like fine wine. Unfortunately though I’ve aged out of his dating pool.”

He observed your lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, how small your hand looked holding it, and his imagination ventured to unclean places.

“You?”

“Josh Allen,” he said without skipping a beat.

“You were five when Josh Allen was born. I know he’s your boyfriend but that doesn’t count.”

“Fine, fine, fine. I might have had a poster of Kylie Minogue in my bedroom when I was like, twelve.”

The two of you sat side by side at the foot of the bed, your hands inched closer towards one another as the night dwelled on.

“If you could do anything in the world, if money didn’t matter, what would you do?”

“Eh. I think I’d still be a lawyer.” He snorted.

“That’s the biggest fucking lie I’ve ever heard.”

“What? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“Come on. Do you actually love this? You’ve been away from your life in the States for months. And for what?”

“Well, I got to travel the world, meet cool celebrities… I got to know you. That must count for something, right?”

You tried to deliver the earnest statement as casually as possible, hoping he wouldn’t read too much into it. But the heft of your words hung in the air and blended with the little popped champagne bubbles that had evaporated. After months of Daniel tormenting you with flirty comments, it was his turn to try to ignore your flattery.

“Really. Money’s no object. Any job in the world. Go.”

“Ok ok fine. I suppose - Oh I don’t know… Maybe I’d be a food critic. I love to eat, I like to complain, and I like writing, so I feel like that’s the perfect marriage of all those things. Or… maybe I’d just drop off the grid completely. I’ve always dreamed about running off to the rolling hills of Italy and living off the land, maybe I’d open a flower shop or something. Really just live out my Under the Tuscan Sun fantasy. But it’s silly. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, I could never imagine throwing it all away.”

“It’s not silly.”

Your sideways glance met his deep pools of dark ember, filled with sincerity. You took a swig of champagne and passed the bottle back to him, wishing to wash away the palpable chemistry that swirled around you.

“What about you?”

“I guess I’d still be doing this.” You frowned, sensing his timidness.

“That’s not fair, you made me pick something.”

“Come on, it’s not like I have any transferable skills. I don’t know what else I could do.”

“You literally have two side hustles already. Wine maker and fashion mogul don’t do it for you?”

You thought you could crack a smile out of him, but instead the corners of his mouth downturned slightly.

“It’s not the same. We already decided the second time we met I could never have a desk job. I’m an adrenaline junkie, I’ve always needed to be in a car. Plus my parents worked hard to get me here, to get those opportunities for me, and seeing them happy makes me happy. I don’t know what else there is.”

“Your mother has a small heart attack every time you race.” You tried to placate his uncertainty, but the light conversation had turned heavy and there was no undoing it.

“Oh, that’s neither here nor there,” he brushed off.

“What about all the cameras constantly in your face? Don’t you miss being anonymous?”

This seemed to make him pause.

“I do… but at the same time, part of the fun was getting to make a name for myself. I’m not sure I fully knew what I was getting myself into, but I knew that fame came with the territory if I was actually good at what I was doing. Do I miss being able to walk down the street or go to a restaurant without being bombarded? Yeah for sure. But even when I had that, I don’t think I enjoyed it because I was always trying to get to the next step.” He paused, the furrow in his brow coming undone. “Do I love it right now in this very moment? No. I need a fucking break. I think you corporate people call it ‘burnout’ or whatever. But I’ve loved it up until now, and I know I’ll love it again eventually. I really can’t imagine doing anything else.”

The space between your fingers had vanished. As though your extremities had a mind of their own, you both looked down to study how they folded over one another. There was no recoiling. Your hand, that apparently had its own free will, sent signals to you to look up again. It was ironic that you had partially declined his invitation to the McLaren afterparty because you were afraid of winding up in a situation that vaguely resembled something exactly like this. Tomorrow was so close yet so far, and your wherewithal to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you was at an all time low. Over the last week leading up to the final race, flashbacks of the kiss in Brazil replayed on a loop in your mind. If you blinked you would’ve missed it when it had happened in real time. But the memory teased you and champagne was buzzing through your veins, clouding your judgment. You wanted to explore. Like a moth to a flame, you began leaning in, your eyes fluttering as his lips went in and out of focus.

Instead of being met with Daniel’s embrace, you toppled over as he got to his feet.

“Champagne’s gone, guess that’s my cue for bed.”

You propped yourself on your elbow as you looked up at him incredulously. How much champagne had you had, that you had so badly misread the situation? You averted your gaze in embarrassment.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

His extended hand came into view. You slowly looked up again, his warm and inviting eyes conveying more than words ever could. You cautiously accepted his help as he got you to your feet, his strong hold steadying you.

“Do you need any help in the morning?” Yeah, just avoid Daniel until it’s over so you don’t lose your job. That would probably be a good start.

“No, I’m good, thanks though. Do you need any help?”He laughed, mostly out of astonishment that you could possibly ask such a question when you had already done so, so much.

“Yeah, if you could just sign for me too that would be great.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm. “Get some rest, yeah?”

And then he was gone. But how could you possibly just get some rest? You tossed and turned, never quite falling into a deep slumber. The scene of two friends on the floor sharing champagne and secrets played over and over. Friends? Colleagues? Business partners? Something else?

It festered as you got ready, before even the sun was up. The tried and true pink suit felt like it might burst at the seams, unable to contain the palpitations in your chest - a concoction of anticipation, nerves, anxiety, and excitement.

It was strange, having such a momentous deal take place outside the confines of a grandiose conference room with a dramatic, long, mahogany table overlooking some city skyline and perhaps a beautiful, shiny body of water. It was a status symbol of Big Law, the firm’s ability to peacock to clients how successful they were. The bigger the room and better the view, the more deserving they were of that outrageously high retainer fee they charged.

Instead, you walked into what was left of Red Bull hospitality after the big, final race weekend. Of course it was sleek and modern in its own right, but it gave an air of approachability that was lacking at the firm’s office. Nonetheless, you tried to import formality back into the space. You had printed and made matching binders of copies of the agreement for everyone present, appropriately tabbed and color coordinated. You brought blue, black, and red pens, highlighters, sharpened No. 2 pencils, and legal pads with the firm’s name emboldened at the top. You had gotten to Red Bull early to set up the space yourself, so that all materials were spaced out accordingly for each chair at the table. You took a step back to admire your handy work. Yes, this would do just fine.

Your phone went off.

DR: Where are you? We’re going to be late.

Y/N: I’m already here.

DR: 🙁

DR: You didn’t wait for me?

DR: It’s going to be weird walking there without you.

Y/N: I figured you wouldn’t want to be over an hour early and you could use the extra sleep. I’m sure you’ll manage.

It was weird for Daniel walking to the paddock without you. The whole morning had been weird. It had been too quiet. There was no offkey musical number through his bathroom wall. He missed the sprightly knock at his door that came about ten minutes too early. He missed guessing which of your faces he’d get when you realized he wasn’t ready. He was amazed at how quickly he had gotten used to you. Had they really only been at this hotel for four days? Five?

His memory taunted him as he walked to Red Bull. He recalled himself holding his breath in anticipation as you closed in on him last night. He felt his heartbeat all the way up to his throat, his pulse points throbbed. It was an out of body experience, watching in slow motion as he pulled himself away from you. He finally learned it was for the best, even though the dejected look on your face pained him.

When he got there, he was disappointed to discover he was the last to arrive, wishing he had more moments alone with you. Christian, Joe, and in-house Red Bull lawyer bros sat around you, centering you as a vibrant glow in a sea of dull blues and grays. He was relieved to discover that you had reserved the seat next to you. He felt his face involuntarily break into grin as he noticed you notice him come into frame.

Christian, who was sitting across from you with his back to the door, saw the slightest twitch of your facial muscles. He whipped around, before a smile was fully formed, knowing exactly what it meant.

“The man of the hour! So nice of you to finally join us.” Everyone stood up for another round of hand shakes and self-congratulatory pats on the back. He could hardly maintain eye contact, his gaze constantly darting back to you. You rose to your feet, but remained in place, patiently waiting your turn for him.

He finally stood in front of his reserved chair, directly facing you. He wasn’t sure what to do – he knew you so well, a handshake hardly seemed appropriate. But you were in front of professionals so a hug wouldn’t do. He knew what he wanted to do, and that certainly wasn’t an option. Fortunately you made the decision for him, instinctively sticking your hand out. He would’ve been a little sad about it, but for the knowing twinkle in your eye. Your palms firmly met, and he appreciated how soft and delicate yours were. It was like you were holding hands.

“Eh-hem.”

You cleared your throat, eyes suddenly piercing. It wasn’t until he felt you try to pry your hand away that he realized he had been shaking it about six seconds too long. He finally relinquished his grip and you both sat down.

“Sorry, I spaced out,” he whispered to you. You only gave him a twitch of a smile and a curt nod in return before swiveling your chair to face the other side of the table.

“Now then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Daniel almost felt silly for pushing this whole ordeal back an extra day. Almost. He could imagine you marching out of there muttering this could have been an email under your breath. The contract was, for all intents and purposes, finished and truly just needed to be signed. It only took twenty minutes to do a walk through of the terms, which of course no one objected to after the countless back-and-forth’s of redlines, late night phone calls, and negotiations. And then, with a swift flick of his wrist, it was set in stone.

He stared at the wet blue ink on the page. He didn’t realize he was smiling until his cheeks started to hurt.

“I guess we’re engaged now. This feels familiar.” When he finally looked up Christian was beaming back at him like a proud dad.

“Welcome back, Daniel. Welcome home.”

“You do realize that could’ve been an email?” He laughed as he waited behind for you to pack up your stuff. Joe in typical fashion had exchanged quick pleasantries after the signing and was gone in a flash, off to the next client. The other Red Bull representatives followed suit not long after.

“It could’ve, but where’s the fun in that?” He watched as you stuffed the last binder into your bag, fighting with the zipper. When you finished you looked up to find him staring intently at you, causing you to nearly drop your bag.

“Can I help you?”

He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. You stared at his tan forearms, noticing his veins bulge.

“That depends… do you like surprises?” You did your best to hide a gulp, your throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating what you thought…

But if he was, two could play at that game.

“Depends on the surprise,” you purred, leaning forward ever so slightly to show off the v of your necklace that led a trail to your hidden cleavage.

He leaned forward to meet you part way, not breaking eye contact.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he whispered. You felt goosebumps raise on your skin, giddy in suspense. Your heart was about to burst through your chest. Was he really about to take you right here in this office?

Without warning he pushed himself from the table and walked quickly towards the door, leaving you bewildered in the middle of the room. He stopped in the doorway and looked back at you innocently.

“What are you waiting for? Follow me!”

He proceeded to skip down the hallway, forcing you to jog to try to keep up with him.

“Daniel! Wait up! What the hell?”

He led you to the exit of Red Bull hospitality before he finally stopped.

“I may or may not have called in a favor.”

“Daniel, this isn’t funny. What –“

You stopped in your tracks as the doors opened. With your jaw on the floor, you let out a silent scream as Geraldine Estelle Halliwell Horner, aka Geri, aka Ginger Spice, aka one-fifth of the iconic girl group The Spice Girls, stood in front of you in the flesh. As a child of the 90’s, this moment felt biblical.

Apparently Christian was also there. “Oh Darling, I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

You were already barely functioning when she turned away from her husband and made direct eye contact with you. Then, as though it were a conversation about the weather, she very casually said “Oh hello. You must be y/n, I’ve heard so much about you. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your hand gripped over your chest. Eyes wide, you looked to Daniel to confirm she was not a hologram, but he only gave you a wide grin, then back to Geri who was waiting patiently for you to act like a human which was unfortunately too big of an ask.

“I-you’re-ohmygodIcan’tbelievethisishappening-I-hi-I mean…. You know my name.” You dissolved into fits of nervous giggles. Daniel stood there very pleased with himself. He was a little insulted you weren’t this starstruck when you met him, but it was overshadowed by the immense satisfaction he felt that he initiated something that made you so happy.

Geri gave a sympathetic smile. Clearly this was not the first time a fan lost their shit at her mere presence. “I do. I hear you’ve been very busy the last few weeks.”

“What? Oh, right. Yeah I’ve spent a lot of time with Daniel and your husband.” you blabbed, quickly changing the topic. “Do you and the girls still hang out regularly? Spice World was my favorite movie growing up, and-and-and I memorized all of the choreography to Stop and Spice Up Your Life.” You continued talking a million miles a minute.

“Well that’s good to know in case we ever need a fill-in,” she joked trying to put you at ease. Your demeanor quickly sobered and you put a hand over your heart.

“Oh, Miss Halliwell. I could never replace Victoria on your next reunion tour, but if you absolutely insist I would be honored to step in to ensure the show goes on,” you swore in earnest. Geri slowly nodded, locking eyes with Daniel behind you doing her best to telecommunicate with him. What the fuck. He only shrugged as he continued beaming.

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said slowly and politely. Daniel finally interjected.

“Y/n, you have to pack and I’m sure Geri and Christian have their own flights to catch…”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time,” you said, Daniel’s voice beginning to bring you back down to earth. You rummaged through your bag, before proudly presenting your hand to her. “Here’s my card in case you or any of the girls need any type of legal assistance, happy to go over any contracts for you or whatever else you may need.” Geri’s forced smile relaxed, appreciating your hustle and intellect.

“This is great, thank you. Girl power, right?” And just like that you were back on Saturn. You proudly held up a peace sign as though you were giving an oath.

“Girl Power. Forever,” you swore. Daniel gently put his hand on your lower back to try and herd you along, but you turned to look back as you walked. “And now that you have my number, let me know if you ever want to get your nails done together or get coffee or even a yoga class!” you called after her. Geri chuckled and waved.

“It was nice meeting you too,” she shouted back.

“Good seeing you too y/n – what am I, chopped liver?” You kept walking and waved him off.

“Oh right, sorry. Yeah yeah, nice seeing you too Christian. Pleasure doing business.”

You proceeded to gush about the encounter the entire way back to the hotel. Your hands flailed in the air as you excitedly repeated every little detail, even though Daniel had also been there to witness the whole thing. Your eyes were bright and wide, still processing the adrenaline.

“So did I do alright then?” he asked cheekily as you approached your rooms.

“Did you do alright?! That was one of the best moments of my life, I could kiss you!”

The words slipped out before you had a chance to think, stopping both of you in your tracks. They hung heavy in the air, waiting for an answer. But for the tension that had dragged on, and built, and compounded on itself for months, the statement would never be interpreted as anything other than an innocent, facetious comment for dramatic effect. But Daniel looked at you intently hoping you meant it. He turned his body to align with yours as you remained frozen, and cautiously stepped forward to remove the space between you. Your mouth parted slightly, trying to find words to explain yourself but drew a blank. He leaned in ever so slightly, his hot breath beating on the side of your face and tickling your ear.

“So do it,” he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear him. You dared to lock eyes with him, searching for an answer. His hand finally did what it had wished to do for so long, gently pushing hair out of your face and finding a home at the nape of your neck. He left it there, but he didn’t have to use any force to bring you together as your heads naturally tilted and pulled inwards like magnets. It was dizzying having his face so close to yours, feeling his breath tickle your nose and your cheeks, stoking the flush that had your face burning.

It was only when your lips were so close that you inhaled each other’s oxygen that you suddenly remembered you were in a very public hallway. You were still in your suit, that felt like it was about suffocate you. To his disappointment, and yours, you fell into old patterns. You pried yourself out of his orbit, stumbling backwards.

“Would you look at the time? I, um, need to go pack. Long flight tomorrow,” you stammered, as you continued backwards towards your room.

“y/n…”

“Congratulations again, I’m super happy for you.”

“Can we at least talk about this?” You fumbled with your keys pretending not to hear him, your focus on the floor.

“It was great working with you. You have a bright future back at Red Bull, I’m sure everything will work out. Have a safe trip back to Perth.”

And with that final, clinical, arms-length message, you left him in the hallway.

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thydungeongal · 1 month

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I've been thinking, and I want your insight: do you think there's a relation between the accusation of Rules Lawyering and the flaunting of rules ignorance (as per your post on it)?

It feels like there should be some shared DNA between these two, almost like a coping mechanism for being ignorant. But again, this is just a hunch, a bout of fridge thinking.

I feel there is a shared genealogy between the two. A lot of people think D&D 5e's "ask your DM" philosophy is good, but as an unwanted consequence it empowers the DM to make rulings contradicted by the rules text to the point where it actually devalues players learning the rules and developing system mastery. This also, inadvertently, leads to the DM having a lot of responsibility because they don't just have to run the scenario, they effectively need to be constantly adjudicating the rules.

Now of course not all tables are like this and I've heard from multiple people that they love their players who know the rules back to back because it means they don't have to make off-the-cuff rulings all the time but can count on a player to walk them through the minutiae of the rules if needed. But there definitely are people who see the very idea of correcting the DM on a rule as almost a breach of the social contract and that I feel is not a healthy dynamic to be had in these games.

And as per my previous posts, multiple people involved in D&D 5e tables have chimed in to say that they have felt like them trying to express system mastery (i.e. knowing the rules) is met with accusations of metagaming and being a rules-lawyer, anyway I think we need to start hunting these people for sport,

#thydungeongal answers

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crooked-wasteland · 1 year

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The SpindleHorse team is full of two-faced individuals. There’s a leaked screenshot of crew member (@hntrgurl13 on Twitter), telling both Lackadaisy and Farfetched to “suck a dick” on Vivziepop’s discord server and bragging about Helluva Boss winning a Streamy award…yet they told people to “support all indie animation” not too long ago on their Twitter account; what a hypocrite. This behavior is disgusting and only proves how toxic that studio is.

Credit to @showtoonzfan for this. Frankly, I think it is fine if you want to be a nasty petty person, but to publicly have such a different face, as well as then use that mask to weaponize an entire fanbase of abusers and harrassers. That's just where I have to say:

This is a situation of a creator fostering a community that is a reflection of the creator.

That dig at Ashley was personal and ugly. But you know, the HB Fandom is saying now that people can say whatever they want behind the scenes. But if anyone else says anything negative about Helluva Boss in private, they are now two-faced hypocrites.

It's the moving of goalposts for me, to be honest.

They don't have to pretend to be supportive of other projects. They can just keep their mouth shut and be a real person behind the scenes as well as an honest person in the public eye. To pretend to be a supporter or a friend is so much worse than just keeping quiet.

But this is Vivienne. This is just a continuation of posting the Lackadaisy email. This is a continuation of Sam Haft and his goons platforming the false reports to bury the concept stills controversy. And just a continuation of being angry at Ashley and Michael for the Hazbin Hotel situation and trying to act like someone announcing their employment status is somehow a breach of an NDA. Which is unenforceable as an NDA agreement due to the nature of the business.

It's the face of someone who doesn't know how to be a real person and likable at the same time. The only time Vivienne is kind or supportive is only ever in this platformed, showy way where it is obviously a performance. It feels fake every time she does it.

Like, just don't say anything. And telling other hard-working teams to suck a dick when one isn't even out and the other only has a pilot. That's not petty. That's just a nasty, mean, hateful person. Petty is saying congratulations, your 2 season series with a whole team of independently contracted artists and animators beat 2 story time channels and a parody channel that goes out of its way to be as repulsive as possible. Look at you winning that low hanging fruit. Good job.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivienne medrano #vivziepop #helluva boss #vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #spindlehorse criticism #Im being honest about my feelings here #i try to keep my critiques impersonal #but the fact that these fans have been rather cruel to me has made me less sympathetic rn #you all are nasty #such mean people who pretend to be better than they are #its just a mirror

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kanmom51 · 1 year

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good morning. hibe released a note saying that BTS renewed their contract, and even made a donation to the Unicef fund, however, when reading the note I realized that there is no extension date for the current contract, considering that the current one runs until 2025, and the note says exactly the same date. On the other hand, there are rumors that BTS has separated, there is a probable unrequited feeling of a member, who is supposedly part of the other ship, for JM, which has caused discomfort and dissatisfaction among the members and making this continuity impossible. I don't have concrete facts, but I analyzed some facts, including the visible discomfort of the hug between JM and Tae, at the launch of the latter's MV. This became clear, putting together the facts and JM's song that talks about breach of trust among other evidence, I would like to know your opinion on this. grateful

Hello @nut2019. I will give you my 2 cents on what you asked me.

Let's start with the contracts.

They have been renewed. Period.

There would not have announced it if this was not in the bag. RM would not have posted about it if it wasn't a done deal.

Well, the members that haven't enlisted yet have signed them, meaning RM, Suga, Tae, JM and JK.

Jin and Hobi can't sign at the moment given they are in the army, but again, this announcement wouldn't have been released if it was not a given they will sign as soon as they are released.

The current contracts are until end of 2024. These new contracts will come into effect starting 2025.

We are not given the deets about their content nor length, other than it was approved by the company board (which means there were terms there that needed special approval - this could be monetary but also have to do with freedoms given to them, like total creative independence and no company veto powers over their music or content - not me saying I know what is in the contracts, just mentioning several options that may need special approval).

Like I said, there is an extension start date - 2025. No end date. I am assuming they aren't releasing more info a. because there are still 2 members that need to sign, and b. just like their previous contracts, their contents will not be divulged.

Just answered an ask about rumours.

No rumours here.

I will just say one thing about the whole disbandment.

Bull.

As in bullshit.

How these rumours start and who spreads them (well, solos and antis)... but why don't you listen to the members? Why choose to listen to these utters of nonsense when you have every single one of them saying they can't wait to get back together? That the plan is to get back in 2025. That they want to be together on stage together. Each and every one of them. With all the success of their solo paths, they still want and even need that connection and each other's presence together on stage. And now you even have RM posting about it as well, like the announcement wasn't enough.

Listen to them, not to some unsubstantiated rumours started by people that have agendas that have nothing to do with the 7 members best interests.

As for your hints about Tae, man is in a relationship. Not with JK. Not with JM. Ooh, her name does start with a J though.

Anyway, the drama people are looking for, being bored and all with no actual BTS content as of late, yeah, it's not happening.

And Face off, btw, not about Tae. Read the lyrics. Not a break up. Not about JK. Not about Tae. These men, they do have other friend circles outside of BTS. Friend/s that might have used and hurt JM, you know. Fame comes at a price. And growing up you at times discover that not everyone that calls himself your friend is there for you and not their own selfish reasons (latching on to fame and money is a thing you know). Sadly, JM most likely learnt that the hard way.

As for that hug at Music bank. Won't deny it felt awkward. But there are many other possible explanations as to why, and definitely not to do with any kind of non existent romantic triangle.

#ask

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ktwritesstuff · 2 years

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The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 4

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~800 Summary: Just a quickie. Beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: we had to get the daddy kink in here somehow :D Rough sex, unprotected p-in-v. Quickie, aka The One with the Daddy Kink

A whole herd of infected had breached the southern fence, but at this point, people scared you almost as much as the infected. About a dozen were killed, some in the fighting and some after. It was all hands on deck making the repairs. You knew your way around a post-holer, but you were happy to let Joel do most of the heavy lifting while you attached cattle panels to the reinforced t-posts. By the end of the day, you were certain you had the best-looking section of fence on the line.

“Looks good, Daddy,” you said, as Joel dropped an arm over your shoulders.

Sunburnt and sweating, you leaned against him. Joel leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Finish this,” he said, handing you his canteen. “And let’s put this stuff away.”

You loaded the tools back into the shed along the edge of camp. Joel turned the door handle, wedging it closed with a shovel. You grinned. Privacy was hard to come by, so you took it where you could.

“You did good today, Sweetpea,” Joel said, wrapping his arms around you. “I think you deserve something nice.”

“Is that right,” you teased, sinking onto the pile of sandbags on the floor.

You lifted your feet and Joel pulled your shoes off one at a time. He climbed over you, unbuttoning your threadbare flannel shirt, dipping his mouth into the little hollow at the base of your throat.

Joel pulled the cups of your bra down under your breasts, kneading the soft skin. He slipped a hand into your pants, fingers tracing a path through your hot folds. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back.

“Is it safe?” he asked, reaching for the button of your jeans. You did some quick math, not that your cycle was particularly reliable these days.

“Should be; yeah.”

Joel sat up, pulling your jeans off; you laughed as they caught around your ankles and he struggled to pull them free before settling back between your legs. He circled your clit with his thumb, sliding two fingers into you, curling them up.

You stretched your back and sighed contentedly.

“You like that?”

“Yes, Daddy.” The words slipped out without thinking–a force of habit.

Joel’s eyes went dark. With a growl, he flipped you onto your stomach and you gasped, pushing yourself up. Joel slapped you hard, the flat of his hand connecting with the soft, sensitive flesh between your legs and you cried out, more from the surprise than the pain.

Joel grabbed your face, his hand over your mouth, pressing his lips close to your ear.

“Shh, shh, shh, quiet down now,” he warned.

He rammed four fingers into you, stretching you open, pumping in and out as you whimpered into his hand. You shuddered as your inner walls contracted around Joel’s fingers, like you were trying to draw him deeper.

Joel withdrew his hand with a soft sucking sound, smearing the slickness of your arousal up the crease of your ass.

“You gonna be good for me?” Joel held you by the back of your neck, pointing your face down. “You gonna be quiet?”

You nodded; you felt dizzy with the anticipation.

Joel slammed into you, hard and fast and frantic, deep enough that you could feel the thick head of his cock bumping into your cervix. It wasn’t entirely pleasurable, but you were too far gone to notice much difference between pleasure and pain, it was all too intense. You bit down on your fist to keep from crying out.

Your legs turned to jello; you might have reached another climax, but there was no fall to the sensation as your inner walls clenched, just more and more and more.

Joel reached under you, pulling you up to your knees, a sticky, sweaty, drooling mess. His hand snaked up your belly, between your breasts, resting on your throat, squeezing–just enough. Your head swam. He pressed his body into you, hot and hard. You reached behind you, grabbing at the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt, his wiry curls.

The saw of Joel's hips slowed, once, twice. He came inside you. A rush of fresh blood finally reached your brain as he released you back onto your belly.

You rolled onto your back, still trying to catch your breath.

“You okay?” Joel brushed your hair out of your face and you nodded, watching as his eyes surveyed the wreckage of your body.

He straightened your bra and buttoned your shirt–gentle, careful, slow–and slipped your pants back on one leg at a time. He tied your shoe laces.

Joel took a seat beside you. You were still shaking, coming down. He wouldn’t look you in the eye, but he took your hand and waited until you could reasonably trust your legs to support you.

“Don’t do that again,” he said. “I don’t like it.”

It took a moment for your sex-addled brain to realize what he meant; what button you had pushed that had gone too far.

“I won’t. I’m sorry. It was an accident,” was what you said. But what you thought was: Are you sure?

Baby's First Taglist: @stilllivindue2spite, @amethystwonders11, @teacupcollector, @jbaby2, @flyingmushroomss, @boysddontcry

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

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sterekmpreg · 1 year

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I 100% believe that even though Stiles tried his hardest to enjoy his pregnancy with Eli, most times he just can’t. For the most part he can keep his feeling hidden in front of most the pack but when it comes to Derek, his father, and Peter he can’t fool them.

He’s in pain most days, all day. His nausea sets in early and stays all the way through labor, delivery, and recovery. His feet are swollen after the 4th month 90% of the time. He struggles without his medicine dosage, lacking his normal amount, and this causes his depression to peak. Some days, even in the early stages of the pregnancy, he can’t bring himself to move from the bed; this only gets worse after his 8th mo the an many days he's forced from the bed to walk around or go see the others. (he's grateful his family cares and makes he be proactive as much as he can because he knows sleeping won't help his anxiety or depression.) He has to completely put his college career on hold because he just couldn’t handle it on top of the stressful pregnancy. He’s Way more hormonal than most pregnant people, crying and uncontrollably for no real reason, having rage episodes, guilt because he loves his baby but hates the experience of carrying them. He’s overdue by weeks when his body finally has enough in him to give birth.

Birthing his and Derek’s son isn’t any better either. He screams his lungs raw, hands weak from griping sheets or his mate's hand, throwing up before almost all contractions, and not being able to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Eli is breached, feet out first like he was just born to go, go, go; “just like his mother,” Derek muses later and earns a weak laugh from Stiles. His water breaks early and by the time Eli decides to make his debut, there is not much of anything aside from his weak pushing to help Stiles get the baby out. He’s exhausted before he can even start pushing from all the pain and barley any sleep. Derek can only do so much and his scent/presence can’t even help soothe the human because werewolf babies don’t come into the world with ease, especially with a human male carrying/birthing them.

Stiles passes out the second he feels the baby slip out of him because his body just HAS to stop after all the stress and trauma of the last nine (nearly 10) months, only running on pure adrenaline and instinct at that point. He needs immediate care because he was bleeding out, fast. Derek has to leave the room because it's taking everything in him to to not bite Stiles to save him, even if he knows Stiles would never forgive him for taking his choice away. His dad gave blood to keep his son breathing and heart beating. When Stiles wakes up days later he’s in such a sick pain he can’t even hold his baby and he feels like shit because all he wants is his baby in his arms that he couldn’t even muster the strength to lift. He has to watch Derek hold their son to Stiles' own chest and won’t let anyone other than Derek, Deaton, his dad, or Peter even touch his cub until he can and he feels so bad but he couldn’t stand the thought of them holding his baby boy before he even has the power to.

Recovery is shit and slow and painful. Stitches take weeks to come out of his lower region. Post-partum depression hits him like a train and most days all he can do is cry after getting enough strength to hold his son for more than a few seconds to feed him. Guilt and self-hatred at being a horrible mom who couldn’t do anything right. Feeling like his pack, his family, hated him and wanted him to leave because he wasn’t good for Eli. It’s all hard. But it also makes the good swing in recovery so much happier for the while pack when Stiles is starting to be ‘pack mama Stiles’ again.

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lover-of-mine · 1 month

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I’ve thought about it and considering we haven’t seen Lou on set yet if he’s going to be back in season 8 (though like everyone else I would not be mad if he just didn’t come back at all lol) I feel like one or more of the 3 following scenarios is happening

1. He’s been on set but for such minor scenes just to wrap up that storyline that it just so happened he wasn’t caught on camera

2. He’s not allowed to be involved in any PR including behind the scenes videos because of his cameo nonsense

3. He hasn’t been on set yet but he will be and they just didn’t have time during opening emergency stuff (which is what they’ve been filming I believe) to deal with BT breakup so maybe the first 3 eps focus on the emergency and Eddie and Tommy isn’t really mentioned (unless maybe by Buck to lay groundwork that it’s not working out) and then he comes back in ep 4 or later for the breakup.

I’m curious your thoughts now that we’re a little further into filming and have gotten some behind the scenes stuff.

Okay, I think that no matter what that man is under the most strict NDA an abc lawyer ever had to write. Second, they don't film things linearly and our first sign that Marisol was gonna be back was almost a month into filming even tho she was in 701, there's a chance they filmed emergencies in a bulk because of location availability and consistency or just because it was easier to block those together and he didn't show up yet because they are just now starting to film non call related stuff. But I feel like the longer we don't see him the options are:

They decided bringing him back is not worth it and that the narrative can take the hit of having him being written off off-screen because of the chaos the ghost of his presence can create (ref most recently the comments on Kenny's reel but literally anything else) or that they found out that the cameos were a breach of contract and they are not bringing him back at all. This is the less likely scenario in my head, but it is a possibility;

He already has been in to film whatever scenes they need him in. Like, they clustered them together, locked him and Oliver in a set for a day and then sent him on his way without anyone else seeing him because he's under the most strict NDA known to men and the rest of the crew just didn't post him;

He will show up soon and still be in the opening arc because realistic anything they film up until the end of the month can end up in the first episode anyway (opinion of a video editor, considering how s7 was, maybe even first week of September could still mean first episode);

He will show up soon but will only be addressed once the opening arc is over. I think this one is extremely unlikely mostly because the longer it takes to address the relationship, the crazier things are gonna get, just watch the way the other side is already losing it, it's gonna get worse once the show starts airing, he needs to be addressed quick, ignoring him within the narrative for 3/4 episodes is gonna create problems, for marketing and for the narrative;

He's been there multiple times already and they actually are hiding him. Hiding as in making a point of not letting anything involving him hit social media. This is a network show not a marvel movie so I don't see why they would hide him, but at this point I need to say it is a possibility that he is being hidden to avoid creating conversation.

He's a schrodinger cat. He's both there and not there at all times until we see something definitive. I still think they need him for at least 2 scenes (maybe one if they do the rest of the work with Buck talking to other people but it will be pushing it) so I'm not holding my breath for him not to come back at all. But I also know he's gonna be addressed in episode 1. Ali was addressed in 301, Taylor and Ana are both in 501, Natalia is addressed in 701 and Marisol is in 701. Whatever happens with him, we will know in 801.

#911 #but thats just me #i really need a tag for asks #anon 😌

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sbdskate · 1 year

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 6) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, mature themes

Word Count: 3,635

A/N: That’s right, I broke the ending into another part which means another chapter is on the way. If you’ve been keeping up, I appreciate you sticking with me through my draughts and generally inconsistent posting schedule. Thank you again for every like, comment, and reblog. Please let me know what you think and enjoy ❤️

The week passed more quickly than you anticipated. You pulled an all-nighter to draft the language you promised. It helped that you couldn’t sleep anyways. You tried to make up for it on the twenty-hour flight from Brazil to Abu Dhabi but again, rest evaded you. It didn’t help that between the travel and the time difference you basically lost a day and a half. You threw yourself deeper into your work as a distraction. You were thankful that there were lots of back and forths of redlines, as expected.

But no matter how busy you kept yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss that had now been tattooed in your mind. You wished it wasn’t good. You wished he had chapped lips and tasted like onions. But it had enveloped you. The way he grabbed you and the feeling of his stubble on your face set off butterflies in your stomach and other places down south. You were pretty sure you saw through space and time and you suddenly had the ability to hear colors.

And even though the kiss was so good, it was made bittersweet by everything that was discussed afterwards. You didn’t miss the warmth leaving his eyes and his obvious disappointment. On one hand, you handled the situation the best way you knew how. You had been very clear in Mexico on the limits of your relationship, that should not have been a surprise to him. Your job was to be professional and you reestablished those boundaries. On the other, you had somehow removed every laugh line from his face. You missed the crinkles around his eyes and the reverberating bravado of his laugh. If there was another way you could have gone about the conversation, it was lost on you. Leaning into the kiss and those feelings surrounding it was legally impossible. He would simply have to pick up his bruised ego and move on, which you were sure wouldn’t be difficult. The thought helped you somewhat – he was still a handsome, charismatic celebrity who could get any girl he wanted. You were one piece of parsley in an endless buffet. Poor little rich boy couldn’t have the one dish he wanted right now, but as soon as the season was over and you went your separate ways, you would be a distant memory he would laugh at in retrospect. Amongst the models, actresses, singers, and influencers he could pick from, he had trauma bonded with his very average and nerdy lawyer during a particularly vulnerable point in his life.

As your thoughts meandered during the course of the long flight, you were appreciative that you would not be on your own this weekend. The partner apparently decided to show up in Abu Dhabi, finally making Daniel a priority knowing that the matter would be closing. You had gotten somewhat frustrated with Joe, that he kept cancelling on meetings last minute leaving you to deal with everything. There were several silver linings, however. First, you hoped it meant he trusted you with the significant responsibility, which again would likely lead to a positive performance review and a hefty bonus. It may even come in handy a few years from now when you would become eligible to make partner yourself. Second, in picking up that responsibility, you had grown a lot professionally in the last few months. Belgium felt like a lifetime ago, in more ways than one. In the last few restless days your mind kept reflecting back to that first race weekend when you were full of nerves, but lately you didn’t quite feel like the same young associate with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. Third, for better or worse, you grew to know you client in a way you would not have been able to but for the partner’s absence and that transfer of duty. Because you knew him so well now, you were better able to represent him. This was, of course, a double-edged sword. You’d unintentionally gotten to know the driver far better than you intended. Over the course of months, he poked little holes in your armor leaving you open and vulnerable and inching you closer towards that delicate line you dared not cross. The two of you had danced around it for weeks. If you hadn’t crossed it before, kissing certainly pushed the two of you over the edge together. You wondered what he thought about all this, considering he had far less to lose from the predicament. It would probably be awkward the next time you saw each other, but hopefully still respectful and professional if nothing else.

Meanwhile, Daniel along with the rest of the grid arrived in Abu Dhabi a day early to have a retirement dinner party for Seb. Seb had been unexpected source of support during this uncertain time in his career. Not all of the drivers had reached out to him when news about his early termination with McLaren broke. Of those that did reach out, some were simply surface level exchanges lacking compassion and depth. Seb, however, had helped him navigate a slew of existential crisis. The least Daniel could do was return that support to his friend. He sat next to Lando and Pierre, the drivers chatting amongst themselves during the meal. Of course there was a general curiosity about his plans for next year, but he playfully remained tight-lipped. The conversation was light, reminiscing and debriefing on some of the post-race debauchery over the course of the season. It was all fun and games until Pierre brought up Halloween in Mexico and his failed attempts at bringing home an instragram influencer and a model that night.

“I think I might be losing my touch. But that was a fun night though, yeah?”

“It was, I’m surprised you remember most of it,” Daniel teased.

“Honestly, me too. That girl dressed as you, she was a good time.” Daniel did his best to remain casual, though his heart skipped at beat at your mention.

“Yeah, y/n is fun when she’s not working.”

“I’ve seen her around the paddock a few times. She’s your lawyer, right?” He took a long drink, not liking the direction the conversation was headed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe when the season is over I can grab her number.” It was more of a statement than a question. Daniel feigned ignorance at the request and laughed.

“I mean I can give it to you, but she probably wouldn’t be able to help you.”

“How so?” Pierre looked at Daniel, both men visibly confused.

“I mean I’m no lawyer myself, but wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest for her?”

“Oh no dude, I don’t want her services – or, uh legal services I should say,” he said cheekily. Daniel’s ears immediately turned red, his jaw clenched, and hand balled into a fist. He did his best to control his facial muscles to not let on to the fact that Pierre had unknowingly stepped on an emotional landmine. Lando, who had been talking to Zhou across from him, sensed the shift in the driver sitting next to him. He diverted his attention for a moment to try to break the tension before Daniel could say or do something he would regret.

“Pierre, she’s way too smart for you and you’re not her type,” he said casually, earning a laugh from the others including Pierre.

“What are you talking about, I’m everybody’s type,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I think that might be part of the problem,” Lando responded. “Plus, you’re already in a committed relationship with this one,” jabbing his thumb in the direction of Yuki. That side of the table continued to laugh and joke, Daniel included, but he didn’t miss the chance to lock eyes with his teammate to silently convey his thanks for discreetly deflecting the conversation away from the woman that had taken up so much space in his mind. Had he really almost punched his friend at a fancy restaurant during his mentor’s retirement party? He was in deep. Hook, line, and sinker.

Daniel had bought himself more time extending the signing with Red Bull, but he had no idea what he was doing. You had made it abundantly clear that nothing could happen until after everything was signed. You also hadn’t explicitly said whether you wanted anything to happen afterwards... All he knew, whether or not anything progressed further between the two of you, he just needed to be near you. He needed more time with you, beyond Monday.

The evening continued with heartfelt sentiments exchanged, and Daniel found himself more and more in his feelings especially as the drinks flowed. He thought he recovered from Pierre’s comments at dinner, but then Seb gave a speech to the rest of grid that brought him to the brink of tears. His mentor’s goodbye made him reflect and contemplate his own journey over the year. Though neither driver would be on the grid next season, Daniel was envious that Seb had the opportunity to leave the sport on his own terms compared to the lack of agency he felt with his tenure with McLaren. Feeling unmoored, you showed up out of nowhere to turn his ship around at the eleventh hour. He wasn’t sure what was next for him, but he knew he couldn’t do it without you by his side. Maybe another drink would take his mind off you.

The night continued, one by one the other drivers called it a night. But Daniel stayed until the wee hours of the morning with some of the younger drivers who had higher tolerances. Lando took note of his teammate’s condition who refused to believe he couldn’t keep up. They hadn’t discussed the elephant in the room, but he could put two and two together even if he didn’t have all the details. You might have been discreet, but Daniel was anything but. He noticed how Daniel perked up just a little on the days you had meetings. He noticed the stupid looks you gave each other, each party oblivious to the other. He noticed all the times you went out with the drivers at Daniel’s invitation, which was surely not in your job description. And right now for whatever reason likely involving you, Daniel was miserable, his melancholia exasperated by alcohol.

“Hey mate, I think it’s time to go back to the hotel,” Lando said as he put an arm around Daniel.

“Nooo, but we’re having fun! For Seb!” Daniel slurred as he held up his drink triumphantly.

“We are having fun, but we have to get up really early. Remember?”

Daniel was too tired to fight back. So he pouted as Lando corralled him into the backseat of the car back to the hotel.

You rolled into Abu Dhabi at 2am. You were exhausted. You had no shame about rocking under eye patches and a face mask mid-flight to at least hopefully make it look like you’d gotten some type of rest over the last two days. Unfortunately, the dark circles that remained begged to differ.

You were in the middle of checking in when you heard commotion in the lobby behind you. You rolled your eyes at the drunks stumbling in, keeping your head down to avoid any interaction.

“That’s it, almost there mate.” You knew that voice. You slowly turned to find Lando struggling to guide a dazed Daniel towards the elevator. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing clearly. That made you wake up.

“Lando? Daniel?”

Both drivers looked your way. You suddenly became very aware and self-conscious of your grungy airport outfit: messy bun, no makeup, and full Enchante sweatsuit Daniel had gifted you after Japan. You couldn’t decipher the look Lando gave you that was equal parts relieved and concerned, but Daniel’s face lit up immediately showing off those darn dimples.

“Y/n!”

“Hi. What are you guys doing?” you asked hesitantly. It was mostly directed at Lando since he still had his wits about him, but Daniel answered anyways.

“We had to say goodbye to Seb,” he said solemnly. Lando rolled his eyes seeing the immediate look of concern and confusion on your face.

“Jesus Christ. The guy’s retiring, he didn’t die.”

You gave a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something.”

“The whole grid had a retirement party for Seb, not a funeral as this one might have you believe. It started with dinner but some guys stayed out and well… he’s just been slightly overserved.” You pursed your lips together to keep from laughing. You could tell Lando’s patience had run thin, but despite his annoyance he had made sure Daniel got back safe which you appreciated.

“Well, thank you for taking care of my client.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine,” Daniel slurred a few feet away, leaning against a pillar in the opulent lobby – immediately followed by him almost slipping but quickly catching himself. He smiled again, proud and satisfied with his own rescue effort.

“Right…” you drawled. You turned to the concierge who had been patient and stoic as the scene unfolded. You’d been informed that the hotel catered to Westerners, but you were still cautious being in a country that technically followed Sharia law despite the many exceptions for expats and tourists. “My apologies ma’am, is it ok if I help escort my friend to his room for a moment? I can finish checking in afterwards.”

“Of course Miss l/n. I’ll still be here.” Having the green light to accompany the two boys, you and Lando flanked Daniel linking your arms through his to walk him to the elevator.

“I don’t need help,” *hiccup* “I’m a strong, independent woman,” he said, though he did nothing to resist your assistance.

“You are maybe half of those things,” you retorted.

“That’s being generous, I give him zero out of three,” Lando chimed in.

“Oh be nice, you know you can feel those muscles,” you lightly countered as you gave Daniel’s bicep a quick squeeze. You gave him a tired, playful smile and the look he returned you was so full of adoration it felt like your heart was going to burst at the seams. He leaned his head on your shoulder when you stepped in the elevator and you wished you could put the moment on pause to keep him there a while longer.

“You can’t possibly be referring to these chicken wings,” Lando replied. “Do you have your room key?” Lando asked Daniel, breaking your daze. Daniel shuffled for a second, patting his pockets, then nodding in confirmation. “Good, I’m going to bed.” He pressed the floor for himself, then Daniel’s.

“I’m sorry, what?” Lando gave you a knowing smile.

“I already did 90% of the heavy lifting, I’m sure you can handle it from here.” You shot daggers his way, Daniel still between the two of you, blissfully unaware of your quarrel. “See you in seven hours,” he said as he got off the elevator.

You sighed as the elevator doors closed, leaving the two of you alone. Daniel was too drunk to feel awkward about the predicament given how you last left things, a lazy smile still on his face.

“You called me your friend. To the concierge.”

“I did.”

“I thought I was your client.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He hummed in response. The answer seemed to make him happy. His eyes grazed over you, his smile growing.

“You’re wearing my clothes.”

“An astute observation.”

“They look good on you.” The elevator doors opened as a blush crept to your face. You guided him into the hallway and ignored his comment.

“Ok, what number are you?”

“This way,” he said, ignoring your question and yanking you to the right. You kept your arm around him to steady his swaying. You could smell the alcohol coming off him, making you wonder about the events leading up to this but whatever it was wasn’t a conversation for today. He finally stopped in front of a door and fumbled with his pockets. You waited to make sure he could get into his room, but after a minute or two you got concerned.

“I can go back to the concierge to get another key-”

“No, no, I got it.” You watched as he fished it out from the depths of his front pocket, then struggled with getting it to work on the fob.

“Here, let me help you.” Your own patience running low, you took the key from his hands and opened the door. You had planned on finishing your check-in when you knew he made it inside, but felt bad leaving him in the condition he was in. You reasoned that it was to help him avoid a hangover in the morning so that he would be as camera ready as possible for press day, but it was a loose excuse.

You cautiously entered his room and turned on some lights. Your jaw dropped for a moment – his room was at least triple the size of every other hotel room you had stayed at over the course of the season, every detail pristine. You held the door open for him as you ogled in the foyer. He pinballed off the door frame to make his way inside, leaning against the wall across from you. He openly took you in, admiring how his merch hung from your body more perfectly than he ever could have imagined. He didn’t turn away when you returned his gaze.

“Come on let’s get you tucked in, you have a long day tomorrow – or in six and a half hours.” You grabbed his arm again and brought him towards the bed, and he happily followed you like a puppy. You were relieved he was at least cooperating. You sat him down. “Ok sir, where do you keep your pajamas?” He gave you a wicked grin.

“I don’t wear any,” he said shamelessly. You pursed your lips, you knew you walked into that one.

“Of course you don’t. Well when I leave you can get undressed. Just sit tight for a sec.” You opened up the bottle of water by the coffee maker and poured it into a glass. “Here, drink this.” He guzzled the water, so you poured him another. “Good job. How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.” He showed off his pearly whites with a giant smile, closing his eyes as his head flopped back.

Oh my God, you’re so drunk, you said under your breath. “I’m serious, do you feel nauseous at all? Headache?”

“I’m peachy,” he said as he swung his legs back and forth off the bed. He played with his hands in his lap. Seemingly able to entertain himself at least for a minute, you walked into the bathroom to go through his toiletries to find some Advil and maybe some tums for the morning. When you returned, your patient was already taking off his shirt and had started undoing his belt.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down there tiger. Why don’t you take two Advil first?”

“I’ll do anything you tell me,” he said before swallowing the pills you handed him. “I’m going to miss you when you leave.” His sudden shift in tone threw you off. You sat down next to him to show your support and solidarity.

“You know you can always call me. It will be like I never left.”

“As a friend?” he asked hopefully. You smiled and put a reassuring hand on his thigh.

“Yes, definitely as a friend.” There was a pause.

“What about as more than a friend?” *hiccup* “Like, afterwards?” You bit your lip, but smiled.

“I think that’s a conversation for another time.”

“You didn’t say no.” You laughed.

“You’re drunk as a skunk and this is the moment you choose to dissect semantics.” He picked up your hand resting on his thigh, bringing it to his lips to kiss without breaking eye contact.

“Enchante.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, but it sure is charming as heck,” you said between laughs. You pulled your hand back and stood up. “On that note, I think you have everything you need so I’m going to head out. You have two more ibuprofen on your nightstand for the morning and two tums in case you get heartburn or an upset stomach. I set your alarm for 8:00 so you can sleep in a little, but still gives you an hour to get ready before you need to head to the paddock. I think it’s ok if you’re fashionably late.” He pouted. “Oh come on now, no need to frown. You get to take off those pants and go to bed. I’m going to go to bed too.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay?” He gave the best puppy eyes he could. Matched with his bare torso, six pack on full display, and unbuttoned belt and pants, anyone with a weaker constitution would’ve folded immediately. But at this point you were a trained soldier, the end of your internal battle in sight. You did make one concession though.

Maybe it was impulse. Maybe it was the jet lag. Maybe it was the possibility he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning. But in a streak of boldness, you brought your hand to the side of his face, feeling the sharpness of his jawline and the texture of his stubble. You bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe next time,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his.

His eyes were flying saucers when you stood. “Good night, Daniel. Get some rest.”

Despite how tired he was, it was hard for him to fall asleep after that.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

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