#Best NASCAR Drivers of All Time

[toptenknowledge]

Top 10 Best Nascar Drivers of All Time

Best NASCAR Drivers of All Time: The National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, has a rich history of legendary drivers who have left an indelible mark on the sport. These drivers have battled through tough competition and overcome obstacles to become the best in the business. In this article, we will take a look at the top 10 best NASCAR drivers of all time. Top 10 Best Nascar Drivers of…

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

No Words *ೃ༄

Summary: max defends his girlfriend and gets into trouble

𖤓 mv x reader ⋆｡°✩

𖤓 fluff + slight humour (iykyk) ⋆｡°✩

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been a fan of formula one since she was a child. every parental figure in her life had been a fan of the sport, so it was natural and she got into it too. thankfully, it also made her realise very quickly in life that she wanted to work in the field of motorsports. she wasn't sure yet, and she was still working her way to getting into the sport, but it was a sure, clear path for her.

after meeting max, and falling in love with him, everything had changed. her family approved of the two of them, obviously, and so had his, though she hadn't cared much about jos' opinion. y/n made it clear in the beginning that she wanted to work in motorsports and she wanted to earn her place. she refused to let max talk her up or anything, because he was the kind of guy who would do just that for his girlfriend. max agreed, and promised to keep their relationship private for as long as she wanted.

it had taken her a few years. she bounced from indycar to motorgp to nascar and eventually made her way to f1 as a journalist. she had gained far more experience than she would've gotten if she had only focused on formula one, and she was confident in her abilities to finally be formula one.

max and her had stayed strong throughout, even if they kept their relationship private. she had met and become friends with daniel, lando, carlos, and all of max's friends. they often played padel together as well. mix the competitive spirits that max and she possessed, it was always fun.

after a year of being in formula one as a journalist, max and y/n had decided that it was time to stop hiding. they skipped the soft launch part, and jumped directly into the hard launch phase that left a lot of fans shook.

unfortunately, it also got her a lot of hate. y/n went from being one of the best journalists in f1 to one of the most hated ones for the same reasons that she was loved. the fans adored her because she was a woman of colour making a name for herself in such a sport, and that her parents had sacrificed a lot for her and she was making them proud. now, she was hated because her success became max's story and how he put in good words for her and how she was only with him for the money.

it broke her heart, but max was someone who had received a lot of hate before in his life, so he taught her all the ways to ignore the comments and focus on what she did best. it helped a great deal, but it also made her determined to prove that her career had nothing to do with max.

it was getting better, slowly and over time. max and y/n promised to never lose their temper on the comments. a lot of interviewers and fans had also asked the other drivers on the grid to comment on their relationship, asking if it was ethical for a journalist and a driver to date. but the other drivers always responded with the same thing, always saying how they've known max and y/n for a long time, and their relationship was no one else's business.

unfortunately, after a particularly hard race, max finally lost his cool.

"well, max, it's safe to say that this particular race of yours wasn't the best that you've performed. what do you have to say about that?"

"uh, nothing, really. we just didn't have the pace, and with some mistakes on my side, i lost a lot of points. but, i'm sure we can cover it up next race." max replied.

"you don't have to worry about us writing a bad article about you. your girlfriend and we will only be writing praises, don't you worry. the only difference would be that we won't take your hard earned money like she does," the interviewer laughed, nudging y/n.

the cameras were all focused on them, there were fans nearby, and other drivers. everyone was watching. it was live tv. the entire world was watching. the thick crowd of an audience had their gaze fixed on y/n, and all she could do in that moment was hang her head and try not to cry.

that's the moment max lost his cool. y/n was standing right there, and the interviewer had disrespected her on a very public platform.

"actually, my girlfriend will always tell me what i need to hear, whether it's good or bad. y/n y/l/n, a well known journalist, who is also standing right there with you, will write exactly what happened on track, because that's the part that she reports on. she made her own career, so fuck you for dismissing all of it." max bursted, before he stormed off.

the interviewer was spluttering, not sure how to react, but completely outraged as he forced the fia to take actions on max's outburst. y/n slipped away silently, needing to go back to max.

later on, the fia decided to punish max for using "language during the fia sunday press conference". their decision: obligation to accomplish some work of public interest.

later, an interviewer asked him if he regretted his decision of defending his girlfriend and getting a punishment, max responded, “no.”

“so, what do you think of the punishment given to you? do you think it’s fair?”

“no words.”

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of fun writing this, mostly because i had no idea what my brain wanted me to write, but somehow i kept on typing. anyways, this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[nico-di-genova]

Explaining the current Indy drama (to the best of my knowledge)

A few days ago, nascar confirmed that they would be hosting a race in Mexico City for the 2025 season.

For IndyCar, this is a big hit - for Pato especially, since he’s been very vocal about wanting a race in Mexico. He is not, however, the only driver that’s frustrated by this news.

There has been vocal discussions within the IndyCar fandom, and across the series as a whole, about their failure to sell tickets and draw in fans the way other racing series have. A large reason for this is they’re going by outdated marketing tactics and refusing to evolve with the times. This weekend is a great example of their failure to market. Milwaukee was added back on the calendar because so many fans had been demanding a return to ovals, preferring them to the street racing. Yet, the ovals are here, a double header oval on a historic circuit, and the fan turn out has been minimal. Why? Because IndyCar does not know how to market itself, there’s little promotion for the series done outside of what is seen on socials.

Yet, instead of listening to concerns from fans, employees, and drivers alike, IndyCar CEO, Mark Miles, wants to claim they have not secured a Mexico race because Pato is not famous enough to draw a crowd.

This is massively disrespectful for a number of reasons. 1. It should not be a single drivers sole purpose to drive fan turnout at a race. Indycar marketing as a whole should learn to better promote themselves, instead of relying on a driver who’s already done so much for the series. 2. Pato is easily one of, if not the, most famous drivers in the series currently. He has more followers on Instagram than the official IndyCar account, and Josef Newgarden - the two time Indy500 winner.

This isn’t an accident. Pato has been very intentional in his branding and approach to the series. He intentionally markets himself in a way that draws fans and goes out of his way to make time for those fans, because he wants this series to succeed. He has given so much time, money and effort just to do what Indycar should have been doing themselves. Instead of recognizing this, Miles wants to make the claim that Pato isn’t “as famous” as previous Mexican IndyCar drivers. Which, not even gonna touch on the lowkey racist implications of that (he’s not your token @mark miles). It’s massively, insanely, disrespectful to imply that Pato is the reason IndyCar is not reaching its full potential, when the blame falls squarely on the execs. who fail to understand the modern day demographic they need to appeal to and who refuse to employ current-day marketing tactics to ensure race turnout is where it should be.

IndyCar isn’t failing because of the drivers, it’s failing because they cannot see beyond the one singular historic race that they sink all of their money into promoting - thereby ignoring the rest of the series as a whole.

[willowsnook]

Secret Identity (OP)

oscar piastri x zakbrowndaughter!reader

You and F1 had never gotten along. It's not like you didn't like racing, you loved it; you'd been at almost every IndyCar race this season. But racing took your dad away from you and that had majorly fractured your relationship.

Being 16 when it happened, you thought it was the end of the world. As an only child, your dad was your best friend and now he lived a whole new life across the world from you. Being as stubborn as he was, you barely spoke the first year that he was gone. It had gotten a little better since then, especially because he had gotten you an internship with Arrow McLaren that turned into a full time job, but it wasn't what it was.

This weekend was definitely him trying to make up a lot to you. Your season was over and F1 was racing in Austin so he flew you out to be a "VIP" guest. And he gave you his credit card for the whole weekend so you swallowed your pride and came.

Being in the F1 paddock was a lot more uptight than you were used to. Way more cameras and people looking frantic; you found yourself missing IndyCar already. Putting your headphones in you turned on your favorite sports podcast while scrolling through your phone in hospitality. The food you grabbed from the buffet barely touched and you didn't notice when someone sat down in the chair diagonal from you.

A couple of minutes later you realized he was saying something to you. Yanking out your airpod you apologized.

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" You asked and he blushed. You recognized him as one of your dad's drivers, Oscar.

"Yeah, sorry I didn't realize you had headphones in," he said awkwardly. "I was just saying that I hadn't seen you around before."

"Yeah, this is my first F1 race in a very long time," you replied. "My dad works here and asked me to come."

You were thankful when he didn't ask who your dad was.

"Well, thoughts so far?" You shrugged, looking around.

"IndyCar is better," you replied making him chuckle.

"Oh yeah? Go to a lot of those races then?"

"Yeah I actually work for Arrow," you admitted.

"Little bit of nepotism ya think?" He joked and you snorted, if only he really knew.

"Just a little bit," you said, eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's way more relaxed than this."

"I've heard that," he said. "I actually have always been curious about NASCAR."

This surprised you, the boy sitting across from you pretty much screamed the opposite of NASCAR.

"You're looking at me like I just grew another head," he said.

"It's just that you seem so polite and dainty," you said and he scoffed.

"Dainty?" He questioned and you twirled a piece of hair around your finger thinking.

"It's like you have F1 with all your media and PR training," you started. "And then you move to Indy with no training but still some decorum, and then NASCAR where you basically get anti-PR training."

"I think I could surprise you," he said confidently with a flirty edge.

"Oh yeah?" You said and he smirked, dragging his eyes down to your lips and then back up making you flush. Jesus this guys has some kind of weird hot aura.

You chatted a little longer before he got pulled away and you found yourself actually enjoying yourself a little.

Oscar's POV

"Dude what has gotten into you?" Lando was looking at his teammate weird. Oscar had been distracted ever since he got back from lunch, clearly zoning out in their meetings this afternoon. The younger driver blushed and Lando's eyebrows shot up.

"I just met someone very interesting during lunch and it was nice," he said refusing to meet Lando's eyes.

"Was she a guest or what?" Lando asked smirking, following as Oscar started walking out of the garage.

"Yeah, her dad works here or something and she works for our IndyCar team," he said and Lando had to look away to keep from laughing. He knew exactly who Oscar had met but he was not about to let him in on that info.

"It was just nice to talk to someone my age who wasn't a fangirl," he admitted. "Plus she was hot as fuck."

Lando couldn't keep his laughter in at that and Oscar turned to him confused.

"Sorry, I've just never heard you talk about a girl like that," he quickly covered and Oscar nodded.

"Hopefully I'll get to see her again today," he said.

"I'm sure you will," Lando said grinning.

Y/n's POV

Heading into the McLaren team dinner, you were nervous. There were a ton of people here as basically everyone affiliated with the team + their plus ones were able to come resulting in the team renting out a restaurant.

You absolutely did not want to have to cling to your dad's side for the evening but also you didn't know anyone else here. Your worries were short lived though, as you felt someone softly touch your back.

"Hey," Oscar said smiling and you were relieved.

"Thank god you are here," you said and he laughed.

"Y/n, I'm literally a driver why would I not be here?"

"Idk I was just stressed because I don't really know anyone else."

"Didn't want to sit next to your dad?" He asked and you shook your head.

"We aren't on the best of terms," you admitted and he frowned.

"Well you can come sit with me," he said holding out his hand. You grabbed it and let him drag you over to a table, sitting down next to him on the bench. He introduced you to the other guys at the table, most of them were mechanics and all young enough that they didn't put two and two together about your dad.

As a couple more people joined you had to squeeze closer to Oscar, your thighs touching. He had his arm rested along the top of the railing behind you and it was making your heart rate go up.

You were happy that you had decided to come and found a lot of the younger members of the team easy to talk to. They all drilled you on what IndyCar was like which you enjoyed. As the night came to a close you found yourself wishing it didn't have to.

"Do you want to walk back to the hotel with me?" You asked, turning to Oscar. "It's nice out."

"Yeah, c'mon," he said pulling you up. You passed Lando on the way out and he shot you a wink which you ignored.

Conversation was light as you walked back and after going through a crowd and Oscar grabbing your hand in order to not lose you, you didn't let go. It felt nice and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

As your hotel came in to view, Oscar slowed down, nudging you towards a bench nearby.

"I'm really glad you decided to come this weekend," Oscar said, looking deeply into your eyes.

"Me too," you agreed smiling. Your breath hitched as he got closer, stopping just short of contact.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked and you nodded. He met your lips in a sweet kiss, slowly exploring your mouth with his tongue. After publicly making out for a bit you pulled back, smirking at his flushed face.

"Come up with me?" You asked, adrenaline from the kiss boosting your confidence. His eyes bore into yours, getting darker as he nodded and you led the way back up to your hotel room.

The second the door closed, your back was against the wall his lips on yours. This was not like the kiss you shared outside as you clawed at this shirt, ripping it off his body. His hands moved to your ass, lifting you up and carrying you towards your bed. You pulled your shirt over your head while he worked to slide your jeans off of you.

"So beautiful," he murmured looking down at you. He pushed open your legs and you blushed at being so exposed to him but your mind went blank right as you felt his tongue dart out on your clit. He dragged his tongue threw your folds, circling back up at your clit for a second before moving down again. Your hand found his head as you pulled his hair crying out.

"You like that baby?" He teased and you moaned in response. Adding a finger, you felt yourself nearing the edge of your orgasm and were left a whimpering mess. Looking down and seeing him staring back at you while his mouth covered your pussy sent you over the edge, climaxing all over him. He cleaned you up before standing back up and pumping himself a couple of times with his hand.

"Do you have a condom?" He asked and you shook your head.

"I'm on the pill, don't worry," you said and he nodded. You gasped as you felt him push in and he bottomed out, eyes squeezed shut and breathing heavy.

"Please move," you begged, needing more friction. His eyes snapped open as he set a brutal pace, slamming the headboard into the wall repeatedly. The shy, sweet guy you had met at lunch earlier today was not the same one in front of you.

He leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, nipping lightly causing you to cry out. You moved your legs to be over his shoulders and almost blacked out at the new deeper sensation.

"You like it rough huh," he said, slamming into you his hand finding it's way around your throat. "I want to see my pretty girl cum around my cock."

Your eyes widened at his words, getting closer to finishing. He moved one leg off his shoulder giving him access to bring his chest down to yours as he pounded into you. He brought his hand down to your clit making circular motions and that sent you over the edge. You screamed out as you finished and listened to his grunts as he joined you. Breathing hard he pulled out, staring down at you.

"Shower?" He asked and you nodded. He wrapped his arms around you and carried you to the bathroom where you stepped into a very much needed hot shower. You both were silent as you washed each other.

"I can stay for another hour or so but I have to wake up really early for tomorrow's practice," he said.

"It's okay," you said. "I didn't expect you to sleep over."

He grabbed your chin, pulling it up to look at him.

"I would if I could."

You dried off and cuddled for a little bit before he kissed you goodbye, heading back to his own room.

----------next day--------------

After the practice session ended you found yourself talking to Oscar in the garage when Lando walked up.

"Hey guys," he said looking at you amused.

"Hey, this is y/n," Oscar said and you fidgeted nervously.

"Yeah, we've met," he said full on smirking now as Oscar looked between the two of you confused. "You know who her dad is right?"

You were about to jump in to argue with Lando when you were interrupted by the man himself.

"Hey guys, been keeping my girl company here," your dad Zak said, his arm thrown over your shoulder and leaning in to kiss your forehead. Oscar paled and Lando bust out laughing. "I'll see you guys for the debrief in a bit."

Zak walked away and you turned to Oscar who had yet to come back to reality.

"I was going to tell you," you said softly.

"I slept with my boss's daughter," he said to no one, staring blankly. Lando was laughing so hard he was crying and you did not know what to do. "I slept with Zak's daughter."

You watched as he went through all the stages of grief and then settled back on anger making you flinch.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded but you didn't back down.

"Hmm I don't know let me think," you fake pondered. "Would you have even talked to me if you knew?"

He didn't say anything but you knew the answer. Lando took this as a sign to leave, leaving the two of you together.

"Look, I know I should have told you, but it was fun just getting to be here and with you and feeling normal," you said. "I hate feeling like people are walking on eggshells around me because my dad controls their fate."

You saw his expression soften as he contemplated and you continued.

"I'm never at these races, he doesn't have to know," you said looking down. "I'll leave after this weekend and we can pretend this never happened."

You were prepared for the rejection because come on, who would want to date their boss's kid? That's why you were shocked when he moved closer to you, grabbing your hand.

"That's the problem though," he said. "I don't want to pretend this never happened."

You smiled at him and he wrapped his arms around you. Lando popped back up next to you holding his phone.

"Yeah sorry to eavesdrop lovebirds but the whole world is not going to pretend it didn't happen either," he said and you looked at his phone. It was a video of you and Oscar making out outside of the hotel. The next thing you heard was the unmistakable scream of your father.

"WHERE IS OSCAR? AND WHERE IS MY FUCKING DAUGHTER?"

[eddiesghxst]

a very big thank you to my bby @mmunson86 bc she listens and entertains all of my random ass bursts of inspo and helped me decipher the plot to these two babies (and many many others hehe), ilysm stinky 🤍

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: older!NASCAR driver!eddie munson x pop singer!reader

summary: Eddie's a famous former NASCAR driver who now does paint jobs for celebrities, and you just so happen to need a paint job

contains: oral (f receiving), banter, flirting, and eddie being head over heels for reader <3

word count: 2k

| nascar!eddie x pop singer!reader masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Thursday is Eddie’s favorite day.

One more day til the weekend, things are slow at the shop, and Bug, the detailer, usually pays for lunch. So, Eddie’s usually pretty fucking happy on Thursday— usually. However, it’s hard to be happy when you wake up to a music video of a famous pop singer crashing the car you’d just spent weeks working on.

Now, Eddie’s all for creativity and expressing art in different forms of destruction, but it’s hard to see the art in smashing a brand new McLaren, freshly painted and detailed by none other than Eddie Munson himself. Sure, you paid for it, so it’s basically a waste of your money, but it’s also a waste of Eddie’s time and work.

“Turn this song off, Bug,” Eddie grumbles from under his mask, focused on spraying fine lines of paint onto the car in front of him. It’s your song.  The song that you’d smashed Eddie’s car into smithereens for. That being said, even if Eddie is utterly and incredibly displeased with how you’d decided to treat Eddie’s hard work, his heart skips a beat when he hears the familiar tone of your voice, “You don’t like my music, Munson?”

Eddie pauses his task, blinking a few times to clear the possibility of the paint fumes finally getting to his head and making him hallucinate. And if Eddie’s hallucinating, then his brain is quite vivid because the click of your heels is drawing closer and closer with the smell of your sweet perfume.

Eddie puts the spray gun back on the cart next to him and stands up, facing you as you approach him. Eddie sighs, tipping his head to the side as he removes his gloves. This isn’t the first time he’s met you; no, he met you when he dropped the car off at your film set. You were kind and soft-spoken, with a pretty smile and voice that made Eddie’s chest erupt in butterflies he hadn’t felt in years. You were gorgeous then, and you’re gorgeous now, standing in front of him with that sinister little glint in your eyes.

You’re a pretty young thing, that much is obvious, but it doesn’t negate the fact that you crashed Eddie’s car.

“How can I help you, doll?”

You smile, tipping your head as you watch Eddie remove the mask from his face, tossing it onto the tool cart along with the disposable gloves. “Need a paint job for my new car. Wanted the best in town.” You sweetly say.

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “A paint job?”

You blink up at Eddie, pretty eyes and cute lashes batting up at him. God, you’re perfect. It's no wonder why the entire world is head over heels in love with you.

“You crashed my car, honey.” Eddie points out.

Your hopeful gaze falters then, lips dipping into a ghost of a frown, “It wasn’t my idea.” You respond. “You crashed my car. For a music video,” he drawls, “Do you know how much time I spent on that car?”

Bug seems to take that as his cue to leave because suddenly he’s tossing his tool in his toolbox and calling over his shoulder, “Goin’ to lunch, boss.” And there goes Eddie’s free lunch.

A flash of guilt passes through your eyes before you huff with a roll of your eyes, shifting to lean on one foot as you cross your arms over your chest, “It wasn’t your car.” 

“It’s got my work written all over it.”

“Again, it wasn’t my idea.”

Eddie tilts his head, lips pouting as he shrugs mockingly, in a way. “But you went with it.”

Eddie had been slowly walking you backward across the empty garage, pressing and pressing until you reached his parked car, your body coming to a sudden stop with a hitch in your breath. You huff out a laugh, rolling your eyes for the second time, “Well, I was filming a music video. I just do what they tell me to and look pretty— it’s kind of my job, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes fall to your lips for a split second.

You lick your lips, cocking your head to the side as you gaze up at him, “Obviously.”

Eddie’s lips twitch like he wants to smile, a smirk lingering in his tone as he mocks you, “Obviously.”

“You really don’t like my music?”

You feel like you’re losing your mind. Not only are you standing in the famous Munson’s Paint & Body garage, but you’re standing face to face with the Eddie Munson— famous former NASCAR driver and hot as fuck body man.

It’s like all those Sundays you spent back in high school watching him race as your dad bet money with his friends on who would win are flashing before your eyes. Okay, so you’re fangirling a little bit; who wouldn’t? It’s Eddie fucking Munson.

“Never said I didn’t like your music; I just don’t like the fact that you crashed my car.”

And well, you feel bad. You didn’t know the car would get hurled off a cliff in the middle of the California desert, but it was a little late to protest against that when it was flying through the wind at 90 miles per hour with literal flames decorating the wheels.

“I’m sorry,” you finally apologize. “I shouldn’t have let them destroy your car�� which was technically my car for my music video.” You and Eddie share a playful gaze, but it’s soon overthrown with something lustful when Eddie reaches out, fingers toying with the waistband of your denim skirt. “You’re playing with fire, princess.” He lowly says.

You hum, tipping your head as he towers over you, bodies pressing against one another as you dance along the edge of the thick line of tension, “Wanna do something about it?” A sly smirk and glinting brown eyes have you weak in the knees, your body heating up like a fucking furnace as the man silently gazes at you. 

It’s like the spread of wildfire when he presses his lips against yours, a warm hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses you against the hood of his car. Your skirt is short, and it rides up when he maneuvers you further up the hood. You let out a shaky breath against his lips when the cool metal of the car meets the hot skin of your thighs.

You’d be lying if you hadn’t somewhat come here with the intention of getting your hands on the handsome older man— there’s no denying there was some kind of energy bouncing between the two of you when you briefly met him on the set of your music video. Eddie’s got a way of looking at you with daring yet respectful eyes that make you want to pounce— he had it then when you first met, and he has it now.

He’s pawing at you like he’s addicted, big hands grasping at your sides as he practically devours you. It’s sloppy and wet and so fucking addicting you wish you didn’t have to breathe so you could just keep kissing him.

He’s slinking his hands down to your thighs, hooking them into the crooks of your knees and pressing them up, spreading you wide for him as he kisses down your neck. He reaches one hand up, tugging down at your shirt to give him room to mark the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitches when your bare nipple meets the cool air, and he laves his tongue over it, “W-what about— fuck.” You whimper as Eddie hums, kissing further down your body and fully pushing up your denim skirt to mouth at your thighs. You press your thighs closer together, pressing up onto your elbows to gaze down at Eddie as he kneels between your legs.

“What about your employees?” You ask.

Eddie mouths at your thigh, kneading at the fat of your skin as he speaks, “Just me and Bug today. Open up, baby.” His brown eyes are like swirling hypnotic pools, and your body moves in accord with his directions, thighs parting to show him the damp material of your flimsy panties.

Eddie groans, leaning forward to drag his tongue up the damp spot before gently nipping at the material. He’s impatient, so he only hooks his thumb in the hem of the cotton and hooks it off to the side, keeping it pinned beneath his thumb so he has full access to your dripping cunt. He doesn’t waste time, laving his tongue from your opening up to your clit, teasingly running the tip of his tongue in circles over your sensitive bud just to hum at the pitiful whimpers and whines that escape your mouth. 

Your eyes roll when he closes his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking and teasing until you’re fully moaning, reaching down to thread your fingers into his curly locks, knuckles curling at the root to gently tug him deeper into your cunt.

“Yeah, yeah,” He breathes, “Fuck my face, princess, there we go.” It’s so wet, his voice, so wet and eager and mind-numbingly gorgeous.

He teases two thick fingers at your entrance before sinking them into you and curling them in a come hither motion. Your legs twitch to close around his head, “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Eddie, I’m so close.”

You’re teetering on the edge, heat brewing in your lower tummy as Eddie devours you like it’ll be his last fucking meal. The lights overhead are bright, and there’s heavy metal playing from the shop speakers. Still, all you can bring yourself to focus on is the sinful drag of Eddie’s tongue up and down the entirety of your cunt, sticky strings of arousal and spit smearing all over your thighs and his face, and your moans increase in volume when he slinks a hand up to squeeze at your chest.

His fingers are gentle yet overwhelming as they pet at your sensitive spot, and before you know it, you’re body is tensing, and you’re coming around his thick digits, soaking his chin as you fail to keep your thighs open and sounds to a minimum.

Eddie doesn’t mind, though, it seems, because he only moans and nuzzles his face deeper into your pussy, greedily licking into you like it’s his last chance— and hopefully it’s not.

You must have spaced out because, between the immense pleasure and the sinfully beautiful sight of Eddie between your thighs, you seem to only come back to earth once Eddie places your panties back over your pussy, pressing a gentle kiss to your covered and aching clit.

He snickers when you twitch in overstimulation, “You’re real cute when you cum, you know?” He says before pressing a kiss into your thigh. You huff out a laugh, leaning on your elbows to watch as he stands up to hover over you, pressing his palms into the hood of the car on either side of your blissed-out body. “Thank you?” You say. Eddie laughs, eyes twinkling with admiration as he gazes down at you.

“I’ll cut you a deal, alright?” He starts. Though your mind is still foggy with the lingering effects of your orgasm, your eyes narrow in suspicion as you tell Eddie to continue. Eddie sighs, leaning in further, “You let me take you on a date, and I’ll paint your car— I’ll also forget all about you crashing my car.”

Even if you want to point out that the car wasn’t Eddie’s, yet again, you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips as you give in and nod, “Okay. One date.”

Eddie beams, raising an eyebrow as he responds, “Yeah?” You want to lean in and kiss him, but you think the heat of the moment from before had been fuel to the boldness that you’re now lacking.

You nod before holding up your index finger, “One,” you stress, “No promises for a second. I don’t have another car for you to paint.” You joke, but Eddie only shrugs with a smug look.

“Sweetheart, I’ve got enough cars for you to last a lifetime of dates.”

[vivwritesfics]

Hi, literally dying for more top gun x f1!

Literally anyone for top gun (your choice) x f1!driver reader

And then I maybe like Lando, max or Oscar with a top gun reader

tgm x f1 with a slight twist!!

Jake Seresin was always aware that his best friends had money growing up. Their house was incredibly grand and they got whatever they wanted. It never drove a wedge in their friendship, though. (Not until they were older, at least).

When his best friends little sister started karting, Jake didn't really understand it. His father had enjoyed NASCAR, and that was what he knew. He didn't understand the elegance of the sport she was so desperately trying to get into.

She made it. They'd lost touch for years, but she made it.

Jake sometimes saw her on television, sometimes saw news articles about her, about her career. He didn't expect her to come back to Texas so long after she'd made it, didn't expect to see her in the store, acting like a normal person.

But there she was, buying a pint of milk like her salary wasn't $2000,000.

She looked so different from the last time Jake had seen her. But she had been a teenager then, not the young woman she was now. She'd grown into herself, and Jake was floored.

That little girl who used to chase after Jake and his best friend, demanding they let her play with them, had grown up hot.

She hadn't noticed Jake, not until he was stood behind her at the checkout. She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse. But then she was turning on her heel to look at him. "Jake Seresin?" She asked, voice full of surprise as she looked at him.

Jake said her name in the same way.

"No freaking way," she mumbled as she threw her arms around him. "You got big, Jakey," she said as she pulled back to look at him.

But Jake was looking at her, too. "You..." But he was tongue tied, in a way he wasn't used to. "How long are you back for?" He asked instead, nodding towards the cashier.

"Until the end of August," she explained as she paid for the milk. "What about you? When are you next shipping out."

She knew she was in the navy. How did she knew he was in the navy? His cheeks were pink as he paid for his own groceries. "Have you spoken to my mom by any chance?" He asked as she stood there, milk in hands to talk to him.

"I might have stopped by the ranch," she said, almost coyly. "So, you wanna hang out?"

But it went beyond hanging out while they were both there. It had started out perfectly innocent, getting dinner, catching a movie, all of it as friends.

But that one night at the bar. Slamming tequila shots in a way she hadn't since her win in Spa. She and Jake were positively stumbling over each other as they left the bar. But then he had her pushed against the wall, lips against her own.

Her arms were around his neck, pulling him close as his fingers dug into her side. Neither of them were willing to pull away, kiss positively becoming bruising. "Fuck, Seresin," she hissed against his lips.

They couldn't let it happen again, but it did. Every night until she ended up in his bed. And then that happened every night until she had to go back to the UK.

Neither of them expected it to go any further. Neither of them expected it to get to the point where they were, quite literally, dating. Constantly on the phone to each other, sending memes and pictures through the day.

She knew she had to invite him to a Grand Prix.

Vegas. He made the trip, joined her in her hotel room. She was incredibly late for media duties that day. And, when she made it to the track, her hair was a mess and she was being trailed by her big, hunky boyfriend.

[fictionalmenxyn]

☼𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥☼

Pairing: Rafe x cargirl!reader

Warnings: language (mentioned once) inappropriate/suggestive talking, making out and Rafe slaps your ass once (also I haven’t got the best of car knowledge I know car model names but nothing to do with the insides of the cars 😭😭)

-–——-

You pulled up to the country club parking lot, parking you finally finished project. You held a proud smile to your face ever since you finished your car, so almost four hours. You got out of your car, taking a quick picture and sending it to Rafe with the caption ‘outside and waiting 😁��� he quickly replied ‘we’re on our way rn!’

Soon enough emerging from the entrance of the country club. Rafe, Topper and Kelce appeared. You jog over and practically leap into Rafe’s arms. He smiles and pecks your lips “hey baby, let’s check out this car.” You grabbed his hand and guided the three of them over to your newly modified Toyota GT86. It was hardly feminine compared to your friend’s cars. But you didn’t car. You were into cars since you were a child. Your father/mother took you to car shows as much as possible. Also taking you to nascar and drag races whenever they were near enough to drive or fly a short flight.

You were forever grateful for the money you and your family had. Being able to modify a car costed a lot. But you could afford it and not have damaged wallets.

You motioned to the car “her she is!” Kelce let out a low whistle “Damn, Y/n, nice whip you go here” Kelce ran his hand over the hood.

Your car was eye candy to them. A stone grey Toyota GT86. Small but sleek spoiler on the back. A nice sounding exhaust on the back. The interior had LED inside, along with a small screen to use for music and other things. The black leather seats all new and fresh.

Rafe spoke “sweet car, baby” you smile “thanks, take a look inside, then you can pop the hood and take a look at my work.” You smiled proudly. Rafe opened the car door and sat in the drivers seat. He twisted the keys in the ignition and you all heard the engine come to life. The exhaust roars and crackles then muffles. The boys were ecstatic. Topper sat in the passenger seat as Kelce leaned over and looked inside the car “gotta say, Y/n, this look amazing since I last saw it.”

You laughed “maybe it’s because the last time you saw it, it was gutted out and completely bare??” He smirked “fair point, but still… looks great now.”

Rafe reached under the steering wheel and pulled the small lever to pop the hood. You smile and stuck your small fingers under the hood and lifted it up; putting the stand under the hook.

The boys all walked around and stood next to you, looking at the insides of the car. “Jesus, Y/n, got some gear in here, eh?” You smiled at Topper’s comment. “Only the best of the best, you know how I am with cars.”

Rafe put his hand on your hip as he leaned over and took a closer look “damn, babe, you got some serious engine right here.” You nodded “thanks, that took the longest, my dad and I took like… one hour? Just to get the engine in.” Topper let out a low whistle.

Rafe walked over to the back and open one of the back doors and looked at the backseats. Kelce grinned “what you looking for? Room to fu-” “shut up Kelce!” You smirked at Rafe’s quick interjection.

You hung out with the guys at the country club after they took a look at your car.

And yes the boys did ask for a ride home, and yes, you did let them.

You got into the drivers seat and buckled up. You turn the keys in the ignition and the car roared to life once again. Rafe sat in the passenger, Top and Kelce sat in the back. You put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Rafe leaned back into the leather seat and sighed. He turned his head to look at you as you kept your eyes in the road.

He thought it was so hot, his girl, driving a modified sporty car. Not some pretty little fiat 500 like most girls your age does. He liked that about you, you wouldn’t expect it from him. But he loved it about you.

Seeing you behind the wheel, looking smaller than you would in a fiat 500. He was also grateful that you had knowledge of cars. His legs would’ve been crushed every time in your car if you liked smaller cars.

He smirked “hey, y/n/n? You still staying over tonight?” You nodded as you stopped at the red light “yeah, why?” “Can we go on a late night dr-” “yep” he smiled to himself as he turned to look out the windshield.

Topper and Kelce talked with you as you continued to drive. You eventually dropped both of the guys off, leaving you and Rafe alone.

The car was in a comfortable silence, Rafe’s hand was on your thigh the whole car ride. His cold rings against your hot tan skin as you wore your shorts. He grinned to himself. You could see him in the corner of your eye “babe? Why’re you smiling like that?”

“Just thinking of ways to break in the car”

You rolled your eyes knowing his head was way too far in the gutter as he had been smiling to himself for more than five minutes.

“You seriously wanna do it in here? Your truck is bigger.”

“So? It’s cooler in here.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Am I laughing, princess?”

You saw him lean forward in his seat and tapped his fingers against the small screen on your dashboard. You raised an eyebrow when you saw him put google maps up. “What’re you doing?”

“Just drive there, it’s our spot…”

“You better pay for McDonald’s if you make a mess in my new car…”

“Oh I’ll buy whatever you want, baby girl.”

You rolled your eyes, but still drove to your spot. You parked up, Rafe wasted no time. He crashed his lips into yours as if he hadn’t seen you in months, even if it’s only been a few hours. Both of your lips moved in sync. Rafe was quickly asking for entry when he slid his tongue against your bottom lip, you accepted. His hands were quick to grab at your clothes and remove them, he grinned “backseat, baby, c’mon..” as you leaned on the console to climb into the back. You felt a sharp sting as Rafe connected his hand to your ass cheek. The things that boy made you feel… HMM…

Yep, you broke in your new car…

And yes, he did buy you both food after. Then had another round in his room later that evening… the man had needs. Like always… he had your eyes rolling… for both reasons…

Have a good day/night all! 🫶

[sports-on-sundays]

lucky strike / CL16

Summary: Charles x American!female!reader - F1 comes to Sin City and you unexpectedly run into a certain someone.

Warnings: gambling, alcohol, cussing, use of pet names (A LOT), flirting, one moment of implied jealousy

Requested?: Sort of! Thank you to everyone who voted for Charles in the poll!

Author's Note: Charles won out in the poll, so here you go, everybody! (Of course I HAD to use The Charles Vegas Podium Picture). Also, I listened to Lucky Strike by Maroon 5 while writing.

one in a million ; my lucky strike

Well, you thought the whole F1 thing was absolutely ridiculous. You couldn't care an ounce less about Formula 1, so you certainly weren't happy about all the complications of it coming to your city.

You would call yourself an all American girl, and you're proud of it. If any racing, NASCAR. Football is the sport with the brown ball you throw- NFL, not the white and black ball you kick. That's soccer. You have the greatest food, the greatest mix of cultures, the greatest weather. If you didn't know better, you'd say you have the greatest country, too.

You watched a Formula 1 race when you realized the whole Las Vegas Grand Prix thing was actual, and when you saw that (firstly) it was honestly pretty boring, and (secondly) the only American driver is basically the most sucky one, you decided it would be pretty hard to get into it.

You're a Vegas girl, and you're proud of it. You're actually from Los Angeles, California, but you moved to Vegas to chase your dreams and live the life you dreamed of a year ago with your boyfriend, and it was so worth it.

Now you identify yourself with Vegas even more than you do with the Los Angeles Rams, despite the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you seven months ago and left to go be a prodigal son in New York City.

You decided Vegas was perfect enough for your clever hand, and you'd continue to be a prodigal daughter right where you're at.

But now the Grand Prix is the newest thing, and you don't like it at all. All these people flooding in, like as if there's not already enough people. Just to watch some cars drive around in circles, closing up main roads? No, you're not into it.

Your girl friends all seem to think this is just the best thing, and you discuss it across the table with two of them. One says, "Honestly, the McLaren duo are the hottest."

"No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?" your other friend disagrees.

You snort in disbelief and say sarcastically, "How about neither? So you guys only care about this because the racers are hot? Give me a break."

"Well," one of your friends starts, crossing her arms across her chest, "They are hot. At first, I wasn't so sure, but, I mean, come on! Maybe we could get glimpses of them when they're in Vegas!"

"Or meet them!" your other friend pipes in.

You scoff. "Good luck with that. Aren't these guys self-focused millionaires with too much money for their own good? Probably all greedy idiots who hook up with every half-sexy girl who comes along. So if you're into that, sure, waste your time trying to meet some hot plutocrats, with the one percent chance you might get f*cked like crazy for a night before they forget about you and move back to their mansions across the world! F*ck, is race car driving even a real sport? It's f*cking driving cars. I could do that!"

Your friends don't really argue with you, because you're right. And clearly, they do only care about the hot racers, because you figure any real fan of the sport would argue with you.

Two days before the Strip is supposed to be closed up for the Grand Prix, you find yourself submerged in the vibrant energy of Wynn Las Vegas, the dazzling lights and sounds of the casino floor swirling around you. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, a reminder of the drinks you've indulged in throughout the night.

You slip between two people to reach the roulette wheel, holding your newly bought chips, with money you've earned earlier in the night.

Bets are placed around the table over and over, as you earn more and more chips. You feel someone nudge your shoulder, and a cocky male voice comments next to you, "You're having a good night, huh?"

"Every night is a good night," you remark back, not even glancing up at the man talking with you. He seems to have some sort of accent that you can't place. Perhaps French?

Which means he's probably from Louisiana. Possibly Quebec.

Probably some rich idiot F1 fan who can afford to travel half way across the country for the Grand Prix.

You don't plan to even give him the light of day.

"Until it's not," he says as you watch the roulette wheel spin once more.

You smirk and feel his eyes on you as you collect more chips.

The game goes on, and you think he's gotten the message that you don't care to converse with him, because does shut up.

But now it's the last bet of the game. You take a sip from your glass and feel a stupid, risky streak in you.

Some idiot part of you that's drunk and wants to push her luck way too far.

You place a straight-up bet, all your chips on the number sixteen.

You can feel eyes on you, and the same man next to you from earlier says, "Are you stupid?"

You chuckle. "Possibly."

"You're going to lose all your-"

"No, I won't." You straighten your back, staring at the wheel. It's true, you've earned a lot of money throughout this game.

And honest, it is true that you're stupid.

But it's also true that for some reason, you're confident.

"So you're overconfident and risky? I like that," comments the guy next to you. "But you're going to lose all your money. All that good luck for nothing..."

"You'll see," you breathe, ignoring his little flirt. "It's going to land on sixteen."

"Sixteen, huh?" This man's hazel eyes sparkle, and something in you tells you that you've seen this guy's brown locks, bright dimples, and perfect stubble before.

You've seen him somewhere. Recently. Like some guy you could haven't been drunk with, but the memory is fuzzy.

But you weren't drunk with him.

Despite being sure you've seen this guy before, you're also sure you've never met him before, either.

"Yeah," you nod, looking away, staring as the roulette wheel begins spinning. "It's my lucky number."

You're not looking at him, but you can feel him grin next to you. "Your lucky number, huh? Just so happens, it's mine, too."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Is that some lame attempt of a flirt?"

"No. It really is my lucky number." By his tone, you can tell that grin has downgraded to a smirk. "But if you'd like to see a lame attempt of a flirt, that's an option, too..." His voice lowers as you feel his arm snake around you, and his hand land on your waist.

You gently shove it off as the wheel begins to slow. You hold your breath, watching, this stupid French boy no longer even a fraction of your concerns. All focus is on your slight potential lucky strike.

And then the world stops as the wheel stops, too.

On sixteen.

And then it all comes flooding back. "Oh my God!" you squeal stupidly, covering your mouth as there's rounds of, "You've got to be kidding me," "No way," "It's impossible!" and "How lucky is this girl?"

You feel surges of shock and pride as you collect all your money. Once you've received it, after such luck, and earning a fortune, you decide you're going to have a drink. Or more than just one.

But when you turn, there's that guy again.

"What's up?" you ask, the grin on your face impossible to wipe off.

"How did you know it was going to stop on sixteen?" he questions, and he looks a little more handsome than he did before as this time he succeeds in taking your waist.

"Are you trying to pick my pocket?" you question warily, though, shoving his hand away.

"Not at all," he chuckles, "But you're a smart girl, aren't you? And I think I might be a lucky boy. Come on- I'll buy you a drink."

You snort. "No way, pretty boy! I can buy my own drink, after what just happened! How cocky are you?"

"Call me cocky, or call me rich, but either way, you're too sexy to have to pay for your own drink."

You scoff at this, but figure that you can't really let down an offer of free stuff. You'll be the first to admit you're greedy. Once of the biggest reasons why you gamble is because you want money- duh- and as much of it as you can get.

So soon, you're sitting at a table with this random guy, looking into his eyes, holding your drink in your hand. After barely a moment of hesitation, your curiosity finally gets to you, and you ask, "Who are you, anyway? I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere recently."

He gets a smug look on his face, which you don't like, before he says, "You really don't know?"

Your nose crinkles up in confusion, and for a second you feel ultra worried. Is this someone that I've met, that I should remember? Am I a terrible person for not knowing who this is...?

But then he says simply, "My first name is Charles. Charles Leclerc."

You stare at the taller individual, knowing you've heard that name, trying desperately to wrack your brain of it.

And then, suddenly, it hits you.

Loudly, in your head, in your friend's voice, in the exact tone she said it, 'No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?'

"Wait-!" you say in shock. You can see the satisfaction on the man's face, Charles, as you realize. "So, you're one of those F1 racers? Like, you race for the Ferrari team?"

He snorts and nods. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me right away. Do you live here in Vegas?"

"Yeah," you say simply, taking a sip of your drink.

"So I take it you hate Formula 1, then? Because how else are you living in Vegas right now and don't know my name, or recognize my face?"

"You sound awfully prideful."

Suddenly, he smirks, and drags his finger across your jawline, pulling your face to look up at him in the process. "Maybe so. But clearly you're not so much better yourself, Miss Bet It All On Sixteen."

You cock an eyebrow at him and return his smirk with a challenging grin. "Sure, but I was right. I won what I wanted."

"Hmm... Well, what if I'm about to win what I want?"

"Oh, yeah? And what is it that you want?"

He leans in closer, so you can feel his hot breath tickle your ear as he utters simply, "You, baby."

You smirk. "We just met, buddy. I'm not that stupid."

"I think you're just playing hard to get."

"Or maybe it's just hard for you to get me," you counter.

"Well, I like your spunk. And your good luck. I think I might need a little bit more of that." He leans away a bit, and comments, "And I think I foresee a little bit more of luck in your future."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he smirks, leaning in closer. In barely any second, his lips meet yours, and though you know you should, there's no way you're pulling away now. He wraps his arm around you, urging you to lean into the kiss. You melt, letting him.

You don't know what it is.

But in this moment, you gently let your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip in between your lips, allowing yourself to, yes, make out with basically a stranger.

It wouldn't be the first time, but it also isn't something you do for fun whenever you feel.

When you finally force yourself to pull away, the first thing you breathe is, "How did you do that?"

He grins, and is clearly red in the face. But there's a look of shock on his face, too. As if his flirty cover was just confidence, and not because he gets tons of girls like this...?

Or maybe you're just reading too much into his expression.

Either way, he responds with, stroking your cheek, "No idea. Maybe I just have a way with you?"

You roll your eyes as you check your purse. No, he didn't pickpocket. He meant to kiss you. You stand up and say simply, "Well, I better get going n-"

"Sorry, what?" he suddenly snatches your arm back, pulling you back down to sit again with a surprised chuckle. "You just met a famous millionaire race car driver who bought you a drink after you won big money in roulette, let him make out with you, loved it, and now you're just going to casually walk off?"

You grin. "What? Do you think I was impressed by you? Think again, honey. Just because you drive cars fast and make ridiculous amounts of stupid money for it, and that you're insanely handsome- none of that means I'm any more impressed with you than I am with any other guys I meet on my night outs."

"Hm," he raises an eyebrow, and says, "What if you could get more from me, missy? Clearly, you're out for yourself and will do anything for a good deal. And you're f*cking sexy about it, too. So what if I had something else to offer you?"

You let yourself sit down at this, looking at him expectantly.

He smirks, clearly loving that he's 'won you over,' before saying simply, "Would like a free pass to the whole weekend, and a pass for the paddock?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes widen. "I- what?"

His smirk grows even bigger. "You heard me."

You inhale sharply, but cross your arms across your chest and come out sharply saying, "Unfortunately for you, I couldn't care less about Formula 1. In fact, I'm starting to dislike it a lot. But thanks for the offer."

His jaw drops, and his eyes practically pops out of his head, which gets a chuckle from you. For a moment, he's actually speechless, before he finally gets out, "Are you aware of the offer you just refused?"

You raise an eyebrow, not able to keep the cheeky grin off your face. "Probably not, but that's okay. Why, anyways, would you give a stranger such an opportunity in the first place? You probably have ulterior motives, and I think I can pretty much guess what they are, mister. You don't even know my name yet."

"Oh, God, you're right," he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Well, what's your name, princess?"

You roll your eyes, and tell him.

He grins. "It's been wonderful meeting you." He digs in the pocket of his light blue jeans, and pulls out a pen and a restaurant receipt. "I know you think you'll be able to forget me so easily, princess," he starts, scribbling something on the receipt, "but trust me- you'll be wanting this." He takes your hand and presses the receipt into it, before standing up just like that, and saying with a wave as he turns to walk off, "I'll talk to you later, angel."

You look down at the receipt to see a phone number scribbled on it in chicken scratch. But the numbers are clear. And though you walk out that night rolling your eyes at this Charles's boldness and cockiness, with an abundance of money you've earned that's a lot more worth the stupid grease-stained receipt, the moment you get back to your apartment, the first thing you intend to is putting that stupid number into your phone.

"This is stupid," you comment as you slide into the backseat, next to Charles.

He just rolls his eyes. "You won't be saying that by the end of this experience. Besides, you were the one who decided to text me, like I said you would. You were just playing hard to get."

You scoff. "Oh, shut up."

"You look lovely, by the way," he comments in a lower voice. "I like that skirt." You look down at yourself. You're wearing a matching crop top shirt and short skirt, your sunglasses holding your hair back away from your face, and brown sandals.

"Thanks," you snort, crossing your arms and looking out the window, turning your gaze away from the Monégasque driver. (Yes, you did, despite yourself, look him up last night, just to know who the heck this guy even is.)

(You also were sure to look up his salary.)

(Ridiculous.)

(But also intriguing.)

Soon enough, before you know it, you're walking alongside him, about to enter the 'paddock.'

Makes it sound like a bunch of horses racing.

But when you're there, surrounded by it, in the moment, you don't think rude comments like that.

You stop, taking in the high life atmosphere. The revving car noises, the lights of The Strip on the 'racetrack,' the crowds, the music, the richness, and the challenge.

Your breathing falters, and your heart beat quickens as your hand involuntarily finds Charles's wrist and grips it as you gasp, "It's... extraordinary."

You glance to Charles's face to see him softly grinning. His hand slips down to hold yours as he comments, "You seemed like the type of girl to love it."

Your smile widens. "I've been here so many times. On The Strip. But... it's not the same. How did they do it?"

He begins walking, pulling you along by your hand as you look around. "That's just Formula 1 for you. There's nothing in the world quite like it, Y/n."

He leads you by the hand toward the Ferrari garage. Once you're there, he says, "Want to meet my teammate, Carlos?"

"Don't know who Carlos is, but sure..." you say vaguely, taking in the large piece of machinery- the Formula 1 car- in front of you.

He chuckles. "You're f*cking adorable," he murmurs, before leading you away to see Carlos.

He's a well-built man with fluffy dark hair, tan skin, big brown cow eyes, and stubble. Pretty much looks like exactly how you'd imagine a Formula 1 driver to look.

He nods respectfully. "Hey, Charles," he says, and shakes your hand with a friendly wink. "This your new girlfriend?"

You look up to see Charles smirk. "Not yet."

One of Carlos's thick, dark eyebrows cocks up, and the suggestion of an amused smirk travels on his lips for a second. "Ah, I see."

"Charles!" you snap, your eyebrows scrunches together. "Not ever."

"Well, we'll see about that. So far, I've been the right one, now, princess, haven't I?"

"Pfft. I was right about sixteen, wasn't I?"

He rolls his eyes as Carlos says with a chuckle, "Well, it will sure be interesting to see how this plays out," before moving on with his life.

Charles takes the time to show you around, and halfway through the tour, you blurt suddenly, "So, this is all the Italian team and stuff. Isn't there an American team?"

"Hmmm," Charles snorts as his eyebrows travel farther up and he fights off a seemingly somewhat mocking smirk. "There is."

"Why don't you show me them? Don't they have an American driver? Like, Carlos is Italian, right? Isn't it protocol or somethin'? Anyway, isn't it called Williams, the American team, or something? Some guy named Logan something that's an American racer on there-"

At this, Charles can't seem to hold it together anymore, and doubles over laughing, essentially, at you.

"What?!" you demand indignantly.

"You really are clueless!"

"I-"

"Alright, alright, Y/n. Haas is the American team. They don't have an American driver- German and Danish. No, Carlos is not Italian; he's from Spain. Williams is British, and yes, Logan Sargeant races for Williams, and he is American. About the only thing you got right."

You roll your eyes with a shrug. "I told you I don't give a damn about this stupid sport."

"Whatever you say, Miss Starry Eyes."

So, first Charles takes you to Haas, where you learn, surprisingly, that not all the racers are young hotshots like Charles and Carlos at least seem to be. They're friendly enough there, but really don't care much to give you any of their time, so then Charles suggests to go to the Williams garage and see if there's Logan to bother. You agree to that, so soon, you're entering Williams.

As soon as you see Logan, you know he's the American. You can see it in his stance. You can see it in his golden blond slightly sweeped hair, gray blue eyes, and strong jawline. "That's Logan, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

You shrug, breaking off from Charles to Logan. "Hey! You're the only American 'round here?!" you ask with a friendly grin.

"Huh?" he asks, looking up, in the most United States of America way. "Oh, hi," he says in what you perceive as dumbly, with a friendly smile. Ah, that's more like it. None of these posh Monacan boys and hot Spanish men- this guy is just like home sweet home!

You can practically hear the eagles cawing over the Rocky Mountains!

"You're Logan Sargeant?"

He nods. "I am. And you are...?"

"Just some Vegas girl dragged here by Charles."

"Ah... so you know him?"

"Well, now, unfortunately, yes."

His eyebrows furrow, but he chuckles at the same time. Though this guy isn't nearly as handsome or charming as Charles, there's something about him you like a bit more-

Suddenly, a hand is on your waist, and hot breath says in your ear, "Got to be getting back to Ferrari now. Come on with me?"

You blush and nod. "Right, Charles."

You have no idea what to think of him.

"Podium?! Uh- is a podium good?!" you ask, eyes wide as Charles brings it home in second.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good!" some guy you don't know wearing red near you says.

"Oh- Alright, well- That's good, I suppose!" you respond a little manically.

As soon as Charles as the chance, he finds you. He still has champagne on his race suit and his face is glistening with sweat, and there's no way you can deny it- he's sexy. When he reaches you, he wraps his arms around you, and his stunning eyes seem to burn into you. He can't fight the grin off his face as he says lowly, "Get why my lucky number is sixteen, baby girl?"

"Ah, stop with that," you snap, your voice cracking. You don't know, but this seems- all this seems-

Way too important.

You reach up to touch the number sixteen on his hat, before taking it off his head and slipping it on your own, backwards, on impulse.

He grins. "You can keep it. Not like you'll need a keepsake. You won't forget me."

You bite your lip, giving a quick nod, still studying his handsome face. Your eyes linger on his light pink lips, which arch into a perfect cupid's bow, as you murmur absently, "You seem pretty confident about that, huh?"

"Of course I do. Looks like you might be my little good luck charm, hm? Can't be letting you run away from me, can I?"

"Hm. Well, we'll see about that."

"Still playing hard to get?"

"Not playing. I just am hard to get."

"Whatever you say, darling," he comments with a shrug, walking off.

The French accent is pretty sexy.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see are the big earnest eyes of Charles Leclerc, staring back into your eyes. "Morning sunsh-"

Your immediate reaction is to scream and promptly slap him across his pretty face.

He grunts as his hand flies to his cheek to cover it up, and he says, "Hey, hey, calm down!"

But your eyes scan the room. It's clearly a hotel room. There's only one bed: the one you and Charles are laying in right at this moment. You're wearing a large black T-shirt and big blue gym shorts very tightly tied to fit your waist. Charles is dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans with a white T-shirt underneath, his regular jewelry, and white sneakers. So clearly, he's already showered and gotten dressed. He smells like his rich cologne, and his hair is all washed and fluffy and clean. If you weren't in a slight panic right now, you'd have wondered if you could touch his hair and feel how soft it is.

But!

As you're about to gasp out questions, Charles sits up and gently sets his hand on top of yours. You become aware of the pounding in your head as you bite your lip nervously. Charles looks at you earnestly, and says calmly, "Hey, you don't have to worry. It's okay."

"What happened?" you exhale.

"Nothing," he soothes. "We went out. You got more drunk than any of us though you should. I didn't know where you lived, so I took you to my hotel room. Gave you clothes to change into, and we went to sleep. Nothing more."

You swallow an anxious lump in your throat. "How do I know I can trust you? Please, just be honest with me. I won't be mad. You didn't know any bet-"

"I didn't do anything. We didn't do anything. Okay?" he leans in closer, and reaches to cup your cheeks in his hands. "'Kay? Can you just trust me?"

You bite your lip, but slowly nod. "I suppose that's the only thing I can do."

Over six months later, you stand on the boat, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea, smelling the salty breeze in the air, feeling content, wearing a loose button down, light blue jean shorts with a brown belt, your slew of bracelets, white sneakers, and a headband holding back your hair.

Suddenly, Charles is up next to you. "Hey, princess." For months, you've had what you stubbornly call a 'situationship,' whilst Charles calls you his girlfriend.

Because you love Vegas more than you love Charles (or at least that's what you like to say), you refused to leave when Charles did. You like taking risks. Just not the 'travelling halfway across the world for a hot guy' kind of risks.

But you stayed in touch. Charles made sure of that.

Well, he meant it when he said he'd make sure you'll never forget him.

But then Formula 1 came back to the States, to Miami, and you knew you'd have to make the trip. The flirty comments and romantic tension thick enough to cut ensued as soon as you and Charles set eyes upon each other, like as if it hadn't been six months or so since you'd last seen each other last.

It just felt like-

Somehow fate is involved.

Well, when Charles invited you to the Monaco Grand Prix, that was an offer you felt you couldn't let down.

And, boy, was that the best descision of your life.

To see Charles win his home race like that, and to be there? Just thinking about it now gives you goosebumps. Charles had wrapped his arms around you after the race, his eyes a little damp, and you felt something more.

Like he really cared.

If you didn't know better, you'd say it was like he really loved.

Loved you.

But, no. Of course not. That can't be.

Can it?

Well, all night you partied. You were in on the fun. You also made sure to pay a visit to the Monte Carlo casino, as you obviously must.

You had amazing luck, once again.

On this thought, as you feel Charles approaching from behind you, you comment into the wind, "You know, I'm starting to think you're my lucky charm, honey."

He chuckles, coming up next to you. "Oh, yeah? That's what I said six months ago when I first met you, you know. I've been starting to think the same thing about you."

You snort. "Maybe so, Monaco race winner."

He smirks, and you can feel the pure joy radiating off him. He slips his hand into yours as he murmurs, "I was so lucky to meet you."

I smirk. "I am pretty awesome."

He rolls his eyes, but squeezes your hand. "So, do you like it here in Monaco?"

You nod vigorously. "Gosh, Charles, it's amazing."

"Better than Vegas?"

"Well- I don't know if anything is better than Vegas..."

He leans in closer and speaks lower. "Well, would Monaco be better if your good luck charm just so happens to reside here?"

"Hm..." you smirk, flushing a bit. "I'd have to think about that, prince."

"Yeah," he nod, his tone softer. "Why don't you."

There's some silence, as you watch the sun begin to set, reflecting off the sparkling water.

Charles leans even closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist, pulling you towards him. He leans down, gazing deeply into your eyes. Then that stupid flirty grin appears on his face again. "F*cking gorgeous you are, one in a million. I struck lucky with you. My lucky strike."

He closes the distance between you, his soft lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine, igniting a spark between you as your tongues dance together in a sensual embrace. Connected.

Maybe it's not fate.

But it is most certainly luck.

And in this moment, with the lips of the winner of Monaco sucking on yours, you feel like the one who struck it lucky.

[seat-safety-switch]

Ah, morning. Hot coffee in my favourite mug, a sun-dappled veranda on the balcony of my rural French palace, and a quick peek at the newspaper to see how my favourite NASCAR driver, Rusty "Piss" Trickle, placed last night. Now, just to take a big sip of scalding hot Blue Mountain before I read the results...

No, of course you know what I know. Rusty didn't podium. Hell, he didn't even place. He got, once again, ejected from the venue for trying to crush a full can of beer with his helmet-mounted GoPro at 180 miles an hour on the roval. Before the race had even started.

His utter collapse in the face of competition doesn't impact my life materially, although tens of thousands of motorsports fans across the world peg their emotional states to the success or failure of their favourite racists. And you can see why. In early childhood, we all want to have heroes. Originally, they're characters of fiction, or idealized representations of actual jobs. Firefighter. Paramedic. Home Depot guy who unlocks the saw when your mom needs to rip some planks.

This is innate to the human experience. We see folks doing exemplary things, helping their communities, getting glory, and we want to do that too. Maybe we start adopting some of their mannerisms. For a few weeks as a nine-year-old, I kept harassing my parents with the catchphrase of my favourite television star, the 1989 Lincoln Mark VII LSC. I can quote it now, to this day: "vroom."

As we age, those heroes often become specific people. We become invested in them, in an unhealthy parasocial way. For instance, I once sent Rusty ten dollars in Streamer Superchat® because he posted a livestream of himself driving across a cornfield in a stolen MG Midget. Ten dollars. I don't even give my actual human friends gas money for transporting my ungrateful ass across the country when I drop a cylinder liner. So you can see how folks go absolutely apeshit when their favourite football team scores an insufficient amount of touchdowns, or a hockey squad fails to behead the referee in time to prevent a power play.

Is there a cure for this sort of unhealthy fixation? Probably not. Becoming disillusioned with your heroes, or ruining your entire day because a bunch of millionaires failed to win a competition, is natural. Maybe it's best that we target folks far away from our communities, because the guy at Home Depot who works the saw gets real nervous when I carry a giant foam finger into the place and cheer on his rough cuts. And that creates a really dangerous situation, even if it makes it much more exciting.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

My One and Only, My Lifeline

Pairing: NASCAR!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: angst, crash and injuries

Summary: Steve is a famous NASCAR driver who finds the thrill in driving at high speeds. You’re there at every one of his races, praying that he’ll make it out without injury. Sometimes, God doesn’t answer prayers and then the worst happens.

Squares Filled: "I'm just trying to sound tough" (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: i saw this video on tiktok and i immediately drew inspiration for it. go check it out!

x

One of the most dangerous jobs in your opinion is race car driving like NASCAR, but your boyfriend is very skilled at it. He has always had a passion for racing even when he was a teenager. There were underground racing groups that would take their precious muscle cars and go so far out of town that there wouldn’t ever be people on the road to crash into. Hundreds of kids would gather to watch the race and almost all of them would place bets on the best driver, that being Steve.

Steve claimed he loved the thrill of it but you know the fame was a big part of it to. He felt untouchable. Everyone tried racing him but he had all the best things. It didn’t help his dad was the best mechanic in town that would often supply Steve with the best parts. Still, Steve didn’t need it. He had raw talent on his side.

There was this one time when Steve’s opponent got so mad that he lost against him that he declared a rematch but the driver had to pick who got to drive their car. He picked someone he thought was the best while Steve immediately went to you. You have never driven like he does a day in your life but he trusted you to drive his car without question.

He sat in the passenger seat and watched you with heart eyes as you drove as smoothly as he did. The cops were called about the illegal racing and came to shut it down, and you passed by the finish line and continued driving away. The cops almost nailed you two but you made a swift escape by outrunning a train. There was an opening that Steve didn’t think you’d make but you proved him wrong that night.

It was thrilling but it was something you never wanted to do again. You’d leave that for Steve to do.

Eventually, he moved out of state with you and applied for NASCAR. It took him a long time to actually drive on the track and when he did, he impressed everyone. His rise to fame was fast, almost too fast for you to keep up. Before, you’d go out with him to the store without issue. Now, you can’t go anywhere without women falling head over heels for him or men asking him to sign things.

It makes Steve happy so you don’t say anything about it. It could be worse but you often wish that things could go back to underground racing and running from the cops.

You walk into the area with your laminated VIP pass slung over your neck like a necklace. From Steve’s first race to now, you have never missed one. Even when you were in the hospital for a broken leg, you still found a way to cheer him on from the stands. Steve’s been part of the same pit crew for years so they all know you like you’re part of their little family. They allow you to be with the crew because you’re always out of their way.

All you want to do is support your man as close as you can get.

“Hey, Tony!” you greet the man responsible for designing Steve’s car. Tony took a shot at Steve years ago and has been his sponsor ever since. “How’s Pepper?”

“At home with Morgan. I told her she could come but she didn’t want Morgan around here.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want a six-year-old here either.”

“You’re here.” You turn around and see Steve jogging over to you. “I’m just about to go out.”

“Go kill it, baby,” you grin.

He kisses you twice--once because he loves you and one more for good luck. He slides his helmet on and hops into his car through the window since the doors don’t open. Cars don’t have any opening doors to protect the drivers in case they crash. They can roll safely knowing a door won’t open and they’d be ejected from it. You fear for Steve’s life whenever he gets into that car and pray that he makes it through this race unscathed.

It’s worked so far… until it doesn’t.

Steve slides into his car and does the pre-race checkup with his pit crew before driving over to the group of cars that are already driving slowly along the track. They do that as they wait for everyone to prepare for it. As soon as everyone is in line, they set up the starting line witht he large green flag in the air. Just like how a flip is switched, every single driver presses on the accelerator and the race is on.

It’s hard to determoine who will come out on top in the beginning os everyone is fair game. It’s only until they reach the mid-mark that people start to get an idea of who is going to come in the first five spots. Steve pulls into the pit area and stops so his crew can give the car fuel and change his tires all at an alarming speed. It amazes you how quickly his team works.

You sit with your elbows on your knees and rub your hands together from how nervous you are. Cars race by in the blink of an eye, round and round they go. This race is three hundred and twelve laps and Steve just passed the three hundred mark. The race is nearly done and he is neck and neck with his biggest opponent, Baron Zemo.

“Y/N, he wants to talk to you.”

You get up and take the headset from one of the crew members, Bucky.

“Steve?”

“Baby, talk to me. Give me words of encouragement.”

“You can do this, Steve. I’m so proud of you and I’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome.”

“No, do better.”

“Uh… Oh! If you don’t win this, I’m going to leave you for another man.”

“No man will ever get the chance to touch you,” he smirks.

“Go kill it, baby.”

“You know I will.”

You take the headset off and hand it back to Bucky. Eleven laps to go.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

You’re standing on the edge where the concrete barricade is. It feels like your head is going to explode from the lack of oxygen because you’re holding your breath in anticipation. If you even blink, you fear you’ll miss it.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Nearly there. Steve and Zemo are neck and neck as they come across the final three laps. You’re not sure which one is going to win. One half of the audience is cheering for Steve while the other half is rooting for Zemo.

Three.

Two.

You prayed for tonight to go according to plan but not all prayers reach God. There are some that fall through the cracks, this time, it’s yours. It’s the last lap and it’s clear that Zemo isn’t going to win this one. He does the one thing that would ensure his first place prize. All it takes it one swerve of his car and Steve gets thrown off balance. His car is slammed into concrete wall before swerving toward the grass. It flips twice and comes to a screeching halt.

Time slows down for you. Nothing else matters but your boyfriend. You open your mouth and scream his name but you don’t hear it. You heave yourself over the concrete barricade and sprint right into the tracks. The crew members try grabbing at you to keep you from running onto the tracks with dozens of racecars.

Silence befalls the audience as they watch with horror from the accident. Not even Zemo’s side are cheering for his run. Everyone saw what he did. He betrayed Steve and causes him to crash just so he could get the nearly eight million dollars. You take a step onto the track and almost get knocked back by cars speeding past you.

You find your first opening and run across the track as fast as you can before the next wave of cars can come. Thirty feet before you get to Steve’s car, the engine blows up in flames. Reality comes rushing at you at full speed.

“Steve!”

HIs pit crew is already trying to make their way over to help but you’re not sure what they can do about the smoke bellowing out of the car. You get on your knees and look through the open window to see him coughing inside.

“Steve! Grab my hand!”

Steve looks at you with dazed eyes. He must have hit his head on the ceiling. He struggles to get into a position that can slide him right out of the car but he doesn’t stop trying. You reach in to help but your arm touches the hot, hot metal of the dashboard. You hiss in pain but ignore it because Steve is top priority.

Bucky grabs your shoulder and gently moves you out of the way so that he and the crew can get him out. They’re better qualified than you are. Bucky pulls Steve out of the car only moments before the rest of the car gos up in flames. He has scratches to his leg and bruising on his face but you think he’ll be okay.

“Y/N, are you nuts? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“You’re bleeding, Steve.”

“I’m okay.” He winces from pain which means he’s clearly not okay. “Okay, I’m just trying to sound tough. You really shouldn’t have come out here. It was stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you. I thought… I can’t lose you, Steve.”

Steve stays seated on the ground and waits for the paramedics to come and you sit right nex to him to keep him company. Steve grabs your hand and notices the burn on your forearm.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re burned. You could have died.”

“So could you. Your life is tied to mine. If you die, then I die.”

Steve kisses you quickly to assure you that he’s going to be okay.

“I can’t die now,” he chuckles painfully. “Winning means nothing if you’re not next to me.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i didn't win the wheel: episode 7 (pt. 2)

[game ends, Logan loses but they both fumbled their way through the whole thing; they apologize for their lack of knowledge]

Logan: "It's not intentional at all, I respect–"

Alex (pointing at Logan): "Tell us about NASCAR, he'd know everything!"

Logan: 😁

this isn't the first time alex has done this and it won't be the last, but watch alex's reaction when logan loses at something. like, literally anything. when they're competing and alex is ahead, he'll tease, laugh, celebrate each little point that puts him in front of logan. but what about when the challenge is over– when it's time for somebody else to come in with the comparison? when an outside voice needs to be the one to say "alex, congrats on the win; logan, you lost"? alex is immediately averse to it. there's an old video where they're doing something similar to "who's more likely to" and the question comes up about who does better starts; i'll find it but alex absolutely fumbles through his answer. shoulders shrugging in on himself, voice getting quieter. "well um i am– i mean actually, so far, i've been... a bit better at it than, than logan has". he's fine with being the best but he's not fun with being reminded that logan is the worst. all of the sudden alex has this protective side coming out, he's literally putting an entire arm between the camera and logan, and this isn't even the first time he's stood like that during a video or a photoshoot. he shrinks into himself when he gets silly and flustered but there are these microscopic shifts and tone and he's a guard dog. like when he was the ONLY ONE to say remotely anything good or at least forgiving about logan's performance out of the whole fucking team pointing out that "He's been doing a great job in the last few races. I don't think it's really been understood because we aren't driving the same car. He's a great driver with great raw speed" (this was in late june). which, considering how the rest of the team treat logan? bold move. when logan's confident in himself– even about a stupid basketball challenge or whatever– is when alex is most comfortable. so here he steps in with a completely unrelated topic, even though he's been surprisingly quiet this whole video (for alex) to remind everyone, "hey, this isn't his area of expertise, but don't fucking underestimate him he will blow you out of the water with nascar facts".

Alex: "So, the prizes are, Logan– it's a spark model car..."

this. fucking. moment. this is right after alex has done his little nascar-themed pick me up, and there's actually a sudden cut in the video at this moment so who knows maybe there was just the beginnings of a nascar tangent going on and they needed a little redirection (with how much redirection these two need on-screen it's surprising they get any footage at all). but what's just happened is that alex has taken ANY chance of logan being told "you lost" or "you didn't make it" into a little ego-boost instead. and logan pulls an alex then, laughing suddenly and unexpectedly like whoaa i did not expect to be feeling these feelings and looking down in the middle of what he was trying to say. they switch back and forth between roles so comfortably, so seamlessly, it's like you can't even describe their relationship in clearly defined roles because they take turns looking after each other.

hand-on-the-hip-leaning-over-the-table-to-gaze-helplessly-into-each-other's-eyes okay boys is that your signature move now?? logan has this way of following alex with his eyes, even as alex fidgets around and shifts and has so much restless energy, logan is so still and stable beside him and the contrast would make me anxious but they're comfortable and familiar with how they each occupy space and they know how to share it.

and the fact that alex says logan's name here. in the middle of his sentence. during the most administrative, the most rehearsed, the simplest (they're literally reading words off an ipad) part of the video. and it's not even akin to the way logan uses small hand gestures to shift alex's focus. logan is completely focused, he literally goes from turning to the camera/instructor to leaning into alex waiting for the moment when the wheel spins and they get to crowd close. he makes room for alex before it's even the time yet because he's ready and he's welcoming and he's anticipating that they're going to be close to each other and yep, alex leans forward and diagonal and right into the space. it's like when you make a circle out of tape on the floor and your cat immediately sits in the middle. and i don't think either of them even realize that they're doing this, that they've formed a routine within this routine. but alex saying logan's name? while logan is already focused, and also not interrupting, and while this part is supposed to be for the audience who will actually get the prizes. the fact that he interrupts himself to add the name is so indicative. it's almost as if he'd intended to say the name all along but forgot at the last second but even as they leaned in close to each other and alex made that nascar joke and they're finally at least a little bit relax alex needs to make a point. he says logan's name when he's talking directly to logan on a regular basis. i don't have to do a behavior analysis of that, right? we all know what it feels like to carry the shape of someone's name in your mouth all the time that the silence aches without them and when you get to see them and say it out loud just remind yourself that this is who you are to me? moving on.

Alex: "If you want to win that prize of a framed bodywork, make sure to check out the Williams website, williams f1 dot com, or–" (turns expectantly to Logan)

Logan (doesn't miss a beat): "–visit the app!"

Alex (laughing even as Logan steps away): "We're getting good at this!"

oh, alex. he's gonna break your heart, and it won't even be his fault.

something happened with alex over the course of this episode. blink and you miss it– well shit, i must've blinked because i definitely missed something. the last, like, twenty seconds of it. reminding the camera that they both struggled and that logan's loss doesn't mean that he isn't smart, leaning into logan as if they have a prechoreographed pose required for The Wheel, saying logan's name for literally no reason ("logan i'm trying to tell you that even though the game is over and we have to read off the cards again and they're about to end the video i still want this to be about us because there is an us when we play like this and i'm telling myself and i'm telling the world that that's what i'm getting out of this"). three minutes of a dejected confused flop of content (from the william's admin side, total fail) and suddenly alex has been hit with some lovestruck epiphany and his behavior. is more obvious. these two are not obvious with each other. charlos will openly use pet names and then insist on other pet names and perform wedding vows on a golf cart. landoscar are more subtle, but it's always been easy to read between the lines and the facial expressions give it all away anyway. but these two are not obvious withe themselves or with each other (spare the one little miracle moment of episode 4) and they're not even in a situation where being obvious is fun let alone easy. but what happened the last time we were at this point in the video? the doors closed, the lights went off. alex got like 2 seconds of the logan he cherishes and then got shut the fuck out because they'd already spun the stupid wheel, and subconsciously or not alex hasn't forgotten that. he's reaching out to logan in the middle of his sentences. because every second that passes with logan not talking is a second of logan that alex is losing, and he's trying to just drag this out and it's obvious and clumsy desparation. giving logan the cue in a way that was clearly improvised even though i know they must hate all the retakes. logan picking it up instantly. alex's face literally falling even as logan says the line because he can sense that it's fading, it's slipping, it's not working. then logan straight up leaves. before the camera turns off he's just walking away. alex's last little setup didn't work because the fucking video is over.

less actual imagery this time because there was less to work with. this episode was about 2 or 3 REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT moments that carried a lot of weight but were rare among a pretty extensive drone of statistics and depression. then again, episode 1 was pretty much the same format, and the alex and logan even from just a few months ago are not the alex and logan we have right now. i think alex is more aware of that than logan is and yeah.

he's gonna break it, alex.

episode 8

[coimbrabertone]

MotoGP Silly Season Predictions - Plus Larson Waiver Talk.

As recently as this morning, I was planning on this week's blogpost being about the Kyle Larson waiver situation over in NASCAR, however, MotoGP then decided to do everything all at once and launched silly season into high gear.

So, with regards to Larson, I'll just say one thing: he raced in the Indianapolis 500 competitively and made NASCAR look good mere years after Jimmie Johnson, unfortunately, struggled in a Chip Ganassi Indycar on road and street circuits - and there were a lot of jokes at NASCAR's expense after their seven-time world champion spun out every race. So how does NASCAR repay him? Utter silence over whether or not he'll get a playoff waiver.

Kyle Larson is the 2021 champion, took his car to the owner's championship final four as a result of playoff shenanigans in 2022, and then made the final four in 2023 again. He is considered one of the top talents in NASCAR and he has the results to back it up. So why is there controversy over him getting a playoff waiver for this year?

Because Kyle Larson prioritized the Indianapolis 500 last weekend.

I talked about this in my Motorsports Christmas blogpost, but the Indy 500 was rain delayed and Kyle Larson stayed there to compete, and only then he flew out to Charlotte. Now, Kyle Larson landed, was ready to get into the car, but then it started raining in Charlotte too. Just before midnight, as the track was drying, NASCAR controversially decided to call the race, thus Kyle Larson was not able to relieve Justin Allgaier in the #5 and resume the rest of the Coke 600 at Charlotte Motor Speedway.

NASCAR is mad because every other weekend of the year, they're the biggest show in racing, they can throw their weight around and try to chase NFL ratings while all other racing series are considered a niche. That's true every weekend except Memorial Day weekend, when the Indianapolis 500 reigns supreme. The whole existence of the Charlotte 600 is to compete with Indy.

Larson prioritized the bigger race and that made NASCAR made, because they're used to getting their egos stroked.

Larson is one of the best drivers in NASCAR and the double attempt brought good publicity to both sports. He had already won his way into the playoffs and made an effort to get to Charlotte for the end of the 600 - give him a waiver. If not, well, you face the possibility that Austin Cindric is in the playoffs after his shock win at Iowa, and one of the top drivers in the series isn't.

I like Austin, I'm glad he won, but he's nowhere near the same level as Kyle Larson. If he can compete for the championship and Kyle can't, then it makes the NASCAR playoffs look even less legitimate than they already are.

Anyway, that turned into a longer rant than I intended, so I'll leave it there. Now onto the main topic for today: MotoGP silly season.

Yesterday at Mugello, Enea Bastianini spent the final laps of the race charging from fourth to second, overtaking Marc Marquez for third and then pulling off an audacious last corner pass on Jorge Martin for second. This meant that Enea finished just eight tenths off leader Pecco Bagnaia for a factory Ducati 1-2.

So naturally, Ducati has decided to replace him.

Marc Marquez, who finished four and last out of these three, is going to the Ducati Lenovo Team, according to Autosport.

This was all but confirmed when, a few hours later, Aprilia confirmed the signing of Jorge Martin for Aprilia. Jorge Martin who finished third and got overtaken by Enea Bastianini in the final corner, mind you.

Now, of course, Ducati is not judging this off of one race alone and I acknowledge - as I did in two recent blogposts - that Enea has had a rotten time on the factory Ducati seat. That being said, seeing him lose Ducati to Marc Marquez, who finished last of the main three, and then lose out on the Aprilia seat to the guy he overtook in the final corner. It stings.

That being said, some news out of this weekend might offer a possibility for Enea to have a bit of a soft landing from the factory seat anyway. Let me explain:

Earlier in this weekend, Marc Marquez spelled out his demands in an interview. He said that he was not interested in going to Pramac, saying that he didn't want to switch from a satellite team (he's currently riding a 2023 Ducati at Gresini Racing) to another satellite team (Pramac runs 2024 Ducatis, same as the factory team, with factory contracted riders, they are still customers, however). Instead, Marquez said that the best option was a factory team, and if not that, then a factory bike at minimum.

Translation: Marc Marquez wanted the factory team for 2025, and if he couldn't get that, then he wanted a 2025 Ducati at Gresini, remaining at his current team.

In response, Gino Borsoi, who is the team manager at Pramac, insisted that his team had a contract for two factory-spec Ducati GP25s next year. This was somewhat of a surprise for a number of reasons, one: Ducati announced late last year that they signed Moto2 rider Fermin Aldeguer for 2025, and it seemed like the natural landing spot for him was going to be Pramac...until it emerged later on that Ducati wanted to start Fermin out on a 2024 bike. Two: regardless of which spec Ducati Fermin is going to be on, Pramac has been heavily linked to Yamaha lately.

The Japanese bikes are struggling in MotoGP right now and, ever since RNF switched to satellite Aprilias for 2023, Yamaha has not had a satellite team. Four bikes capturing data instead of two could really help Yamaha right now, so they've been linked to pretty much every Ducati satellite team the last few months. VR46 with the romanticism of a Valentino Rossi and Yamaha reunion, Gresini until they renewed their deal, and most recently, with Pramac.

Yamaha was desperate and the rumor has been that they offered very generous terms to Pramac.

So, the news that Pramac may stay with Ducati after all is a shock to the media, but it does not seem to have been much of a shock to Ducati. Ducati had been working on a way to keep both Martin and Marquez, and it seems that they wanted to offer Pramac the chance to run MotoGP's biggest star - Marc Marquez - as a reason to stay...and potentially a reason to accept taking on a rookie Aldeguer on a year-old bike as well.

Now that Marquez is going to the factory team instead and Jorge Martin has snatched the open Aprilia seat, I see an opening. Ducati can send Enea Bastianini to Pramac, keeping him on a factory spec bike while giving Pramac another frontrunning rider. Aldeguer joins as Bastianini's teammate, on a GP25 if that's what it takes to keep Pramac in the fold, because Marc Marquez will be in the factory team so freeing up a GP25 won't be as important.

What about VR46 and Gresini then? Well, I think Marco Bezzecchi's current season has been a bit of a disaster, so he won't really have much of a chance to get a factory ride next year, so staying at VR46 seems likely. Furthermore, his struggles mean that Bezzecchi probably isn't going to have much luck demanding Ducati gives him a GP25, so status quo is probably the most likely outcome there. It's unfortunate for Bezzecchi, but the sheer reality is that, with all these hot riders on the market, his options seem to be either stay at VR46, or make a more or less lateral move to Trackhouse Aprilia.

Then Franco Morbidelli, another Valentino Rossi academy product, can drop from Pramac into the other VR46 seat.

Where does Fabio DiGiannantonio go then? Well, with Marquez going to the factory, Fabio can now return to Gresini and be reunited with Frankie Carchedi. Thus, restoring the 2023 lineup of Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

So, to sum things up, I think Ducati can keep all three of its satellite teams and all eight bikes like this:

Ducati Lenovo (GP25): Pecco Bagnaia and Marc Marquez.

Pramac (GP25): Enea Bastianini and Fermin Aldeguer.

VR46 (GP24): Marco Bezzecchi and Franco Morbidelli.

Gresini (GP24): Fabio DiGiannantonio and Alex Marquez.

Maybe Pramac will go to Yamaha after all, maybe my predictions will look radically wrong in a few weeks. I don't know how it'll turn out, but this is the scheme I've thought up in my mind.

I need to do something since with Marc Marquez at Ducati and Jorge Martin at Aprilia, my two favorite teams now have my two least favorite riders and I'm trying not to dwell on that part.

So yeah.

Oh, also this weekend Indycar raced at Detroit, but uhh...the less said about that, the better.

[nurse-floyd]

How to Smile Again - Chapter 1

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x driver!reader

Warnings: mentions of injury/ some sad feelings.

You arrive at the ranch and are introduced to Rhett who shows around your new home for the next few weeks.

Rhett Abbott taglist: @vivwritesfics

Rhett didn’t know the first thing about F1 when your trainer called him to enquire about you going for some rehab there, sure he’d seen Nascar on TV as he flipped through the sports channel but his life was pretty much horses. He knew you were a driver, knew you had to be pretty good to be 1 of 20 driving on the current grid as your trainer explained to him. He also knew that you’d worked hard to get where you were. He also knew you’d had a pretty severe crash that had landed you there. 

He didn’t do much digging after that, he mostly wanted to respect your privacy and go off of what your physio and trainer told him about the incident and your surgery. Together they worked out what would be best for you, but mainly you were there for a break. Being on the grid wasn’t good for you at the moment, and everyone could see that. 

You weren’t exactly happy about coming here. No, you were used to being the one in control, but after the bad crash at the Las Vegas Grand Prix had left you with a nasty leg injury requiring surgery and weeks of physio, you were out for the remainder of the season and maybe the next if you didn’t get your strength back. That’s how you found yourself here, at a freaking ranch of all places. Your trainer and physio thought time away from the circuit and a different form of therapy would be good for you mentally and physically. 

A man dressed in worn jeans, a plaid button-up, and a Stetson was standing at the gate for your arrival. ‘Of course he would be wearing a fucking Stetson,’ you thought to yourself as the car pulled up. 

Rhett watched as you climbed out of the car, your posture stiff as you looked around. He watched as you climbed out of the car, the limp in your step wasn’t hard to miss, and neither was the slight scowl you wore on your face. He could tell there was some reluctance about being here, but he’d already gotten the heads-up from your trainer that you probably wouldn’t be in the best of moods. Still, Rhett was used to it; you weren’t the first to not want to be here and you certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

He gave you a smile and held out his hand for you to take, “Hey, my name’s Rhett, you must be Y/N? Your physio and trainer have told me a bit about you.” 

You narrowed your eyes slightly at him and gave him a nod and took his hand, “Yeah. I’m not exactly thrilled to be here.” 

Rhett laughed, unfazed by your bluntness, “Yeah, they also said that you might say that. How about I show you around and then show you to the cabin you’ll be staying in?” 

You took a minute to look around before you gave him a nod, just wanting to get the day over with and call your physio to tell him you were right and this was a dumb idea. There was no denying the place was beautiful. Sprawling fields filled with horses grazing. There were a couple of young children being led around the stables outside with workers, big smiles on their faces. You pulled your baseball cap lower over your eyes as you made a move to follow him, “let’s get this over with.” 

Rhett took the bag from your shoulder and led you through the main path as he pointed out the different areas of the ranch. “We’ve got the stables over there, indoor and outdoor arenas, the tack room is over there but we mainly sort that out for you.” 

You finally made it towards the cabin and it was exactly what you expected. It looked run down but cozy enough for your stay, so you had no complaints. There was a swing seat on the porch, a few plant pots around the porch to make it seem a bit more homey. 

Inside was much the same as the outside. There was a small simple kitchenette, a couch with a coffee table, and a bed. It was cozy enough and it’d do, but it was definitely run down and in need of a makeover. “Sorry it’s not much. Planned to redecorate and update it but the horses keep me pretty busy. Still, bathroom’s over there and the wifi is decent,” Rhett took the Stetson from his head and ran his hand through his hair as he looked around. 

“No…it’s fine. Thanks, Rhett,” you reassured him. ‘Not that I’ll be here long enough for it to matter,’ you thought to yourself. 

“Listen, I know this is the last place you want to be and you’re probably not interested in being here, but we can take things at your pace. No rush. When you’re ready, you can head over to the stables and I can introduce you to some of the horses.” 

You gave him a small smile and then you were alone. You took a seat on the edge of the bed and pulled out your phone to text your trainer. 

‘Seriously…’ 

Your phone flashed up with the three dots showing he was replying. 

‘Give it a chance, it’ll be good for you.’ He finished it off with a cowboy emoji, which made you roll your eyes. 

After about half an hour of lying on the bed, texting Max, Logan, and Danny how pissed you were, asking them how your reserve was getting on, and how much you were missing them, you thought you might as well not keep Rhett waiting any longer. 

As soon as he saw you heading towards the paddock where a few of the horses were grazing, Rhett made his way over to you. He joined you as you leaned against the fence and as soon as she saw him, a gorgeous piebald horse trotted over and nuzzled against his face. 

“This is Hope. She’s one of our best therapy horses and loves everyone.” You watched how Rhett's face lit up with a smile as he interacted with her. 

Another larger horse joined in as it noticed Rhett giving its pasture mate attention and gave a snort. 

“Alright, jealous!” he tutted as he gave the black horse who’d trotted over a scratch. “This is Toro. Don’t let the name fool you though, he’s a gentle giant.” 

You let out a small laugh at the name, causing Rhett to raise an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you replied, “good name.” 

He pointed out the last few horses in the field, “Over there’s Penny, Belle, and Teddy. There are a few more horses in the stables that aren’t being ridden right now if you want to come and meet them too.” 

He was patient and walked at your pace as you both headed toward the stables. There were a few empty stalls as you walked down the middle aisle, “Sam and Billy are out in the ring at the moment, but they’re my smaller boys for the younger clients we get. There’s Heidi; she’s on rest at the moment so isn’t being used.” 

You paused in front of one of the occupied stalls where a beautiful bay horse had its head leaning over the stable door at the sound of Rhett’s voice. “This is my girl, Jojo. My niece chose the name, Jolene.” 

You held out your hand to stroke her nose, and Rhett finally thought he might be getting somewhere with you opening up a little. As you scratched at Jojo’s nose, another horse let out a loud whinny, stealing both of your attention as she kicked the door once as if you hadn’t heard her the first time. 

“Who’s that?” 

“That is Peanut, Pea to her friends,” Rhett said as he led you towards the stable housing the huge chestnut mare. “She’s not usually a part of the program, a bit too stubborn and hot-headed to pair with most of our clients.” 

She was gorgeous, there was no denying that. Sure, you’d ridden horses a few times when you were younger, but not for a long time, not since your entire focus turned to karting and then Formula One. In all your time, you’d never seen a horse as gorgeous as this. Her big brown eyes stared into yours and you forgot all about your injury for a moment until you felt a painful twinge shoot through your whole body. Then you were reminded of why you were here. You were here because you couldn’t be there, at the track where you belonged, where you knew Max, and Danny and Logan were this weekend. Then the anger came back. 

“Listen, I appreciate you doing this, but you don’t have to. I told my physio I’d try this out, but I really don’t think this is for me,” you sighed. “I can’t even run without my leg hurting, so how the fuck is getting on a horse going to help me?” You didn’t mean to snap, but you’d had a long day and you were tired and in pain. 

“Hippotherapy and equine-assisted therapy have been shown to help a lot of people recover physically from injuries like yours as well as from mental health problems, PTSD.” 

“I don’t have PTSD. There are no mental health issues,” you snapped a little more than you’d meant to. Not because you were being an asshole—well, maybe a little—but after all you’d been through, you couldn’t be blamed. “I was in a crash and I hurt my leg, that’s all.” You weren’t about to tell a complete stranger about the nightmares that still plagued you, the depression at seeing your friends compete, at seeing your reserve in your seat, not traveling the world and being in near constant pain. 

“I didn’t say you—” Rhett didn’t get a chance to explain himself before you were snapping again. 

“I’m only here because I’ve been sent here. If it were my choice, I’d be in the gym or at home doing anything but this.” 

Rhett sighed and held up his hands in surrender, “Fine by me. Let me know if you change your mind,” he walked off and left you alone to cool off. 

He left you standing there next to the huge beast who nudged you playfully with her nose. “Stop that,” you chided.  

Peanut, however, didn’t listen and nudged you again. Then she decided to up her game as she began nibbling on the hood of your jacket, “I said stop it,” you gently pushed her away but she insisted. She leaned in again, a playful snort leaving her lips as she grabbed the baseball cap from your head and lifted it high in the air, nodding her head as if she was tormenting you. 

“Jerk…” you muttered under your breath. You rolled your eyes, grabbed the hat back, and gave her a pat. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all.” You sniffed as tears threatened to spill over, and buried your face in her mane. “How did I end up here, girl?” 

She nuzzled into your side, as if knowing you needed comfort in the moment. You clung onto her neck, scratching at her neck as your tears soaked into her mane. 

Rhett watched on from the corner of the stables as he went about his work. He felt weird encroaching on such an intimate moment. He’d had Belle or Penny lined up for you, but maybe he’d just found the right match, or rather Pea had. It’d be a gamble choosing her for you; usually she wasn’t a part of the program, but his instinct told him she’d be good for you. From what he’d seen so far, he might just be right. 

He left you with Peanut as he went about the rest of his business for the day and let you get settled. He knew he had his work cut out for him but he was determined to help you get back to where you wanted to be most. Back on the grid racing.

[mandy-asimp]

Fast lane

Melissa Schemmenti x oc!racer

Smut, language, there's a fire accident at a point but other than that it's like mostly wholesome

Happy Fri-YAY🥳

It was close to Valentine's Day, the holiday would fall on a Saturday, and the school was buzzing with hearts.

The red head sat in the teachers lounge on her phone. Her eyes focusing on the text that was sent not too long ago. A geeky smile on her face.

A picture of her girlfriend in the airport with a

'good morning' text following under.

Melissa's girlfriend was constantly flying but also had long breaks in between. After all, being a famous NASCAR driver had its pros and cons.

How the two met is a story she has waited for someone to ask her about.

Melissa was with family when it happened. She was walking around trying to find anywhere to get food from when she realized she was lost. Her first instinct was to ask the first person in sight.

Which just happened to be Phoebe Stern. A new driver who was about to have her first race.

The nervousness must've really shown as Melissa met her eyes. Suddenly coming to the others aid and trying to get her to take deep breaths. "You're ok, just breathe hun. Deep breath in....and out..." she had coaxed the young woman.

After a few minutes she had calmed down and finally really looked at the woman. Meeting soft green eyes that could tell stories for days. "What's got you so worked up, huh?" Her voice. It's wasn't what the racer was expecting but it matched almost perfectly.

"It's my first race. My big debut. What if I'm not all I'm cracked up to be? What if I do so bad?" The younger began to panic again. Feeling hot tears burn her eyes.

"Hey, you're ok! You will go out there and do your absolute best. You are about to make history as the youngest female NASCAR driver. You're doing great so far, so you'll go out there and give it your absolute best. Plus you already have fans cheering you on." She reassured Phoebe. Carefully, she wiped away the spilled tears with a huge smile.

Phoebe couldn't help but feel warms don't I fly at the action. How that smile captivated her and gave her motivation to do everything in her will to win the race. The woman was her motivation. For what reason, she didn't know, but it felt right.

"Thank you, really. It's nice to know there's still people out there who care for others. I'm Phoebe, but you already knew that." She held out her hand, waiting for the other to shake it. Slightly smiling when the red head had.

"Melissa, and of course. Now, do you know where Ican get any food?" She changed the topic. Looking around a bit for any stand.

Phoebe couldn't help but let out a laugh. "There was a pizza stand just over there. The line was dragging though. But if you want, I can have Stephen to my locker room and we had a little pre-race buffet. There's still food left, feel free to help yourself really. Least I could do." The brunette offered. Her smile showing nothing but honesty and purity. "It'll also get you more for free and before the race starts."

Just then a manager came up to rush her away.

Whispering a 'let's go' before trying to usher her out to the car for a few pre-race interviews.

However, Phoebe in a quick manner rushed over to Stephen. Whispering in his ear and smiling at the woman before running off to the blue race car.

That was only their first interaction. Their second was less frantic. And more digital.

Later that night, after hours of celebrating Phoebe's first race and first win, she had gotten drunker than known. Leaving the party at nearly four in the morning in a cab back to her hotel.

Sending out a few gibberish texts and crashing.

Melissa was just waking up at the time, furrowing her brows at the unknown number but reading (trying to read) the few texts. Picking out that they were compliments of sorts and giving a sleepy smile.

She sent a few text back, mostly talking about taking care of the hangover that's going to happen and to text her when whoever it was wasn't drunk and could actually get out a full sentence. Obviously she sent it in a nicer way, with a few nicknames here and there.

Once Phoebe woke up, she immediately apologized. Mostly for getting her number without actually asking her.

That was all nearly eight years ago. Now the Daytona 500 was coming up once more. Phoebe was heading down a few days early for a lot of press events. Melissa would head down the Friday before the race.

"I think nascar is a fun thing, I wish I could attend a race once. Just to see the Wonder Woman of racing, Phoebe Stern. She's trying to bet someone's record, just don't know who's." Janine practically hopped into the teachers lounge. Acknowledging all the other teachers in the room with her cheery smile.

"Isn't it Josh something?" Gregory guessed from making his coffee.

Jacob shook his head, "No it's another female right?" He pulled out his phone, ready to look up the answer.

Before he even put in his password, Melissa chirped, "she's trying to beat Jimmie Johnson. He's won like seven Daytona races, but she has years to catch up."

The room was silent, "Melissa, I didn't take you for a NASCAR fan?" Janine sounded confused.

Loving when melissa would slightly open up about herself.

"There's a lot you don't know about me kid. I've been a fan of NASCAR for, I dunno, eight maybe nine years? Never miss a race." She hummed, going back to her phone and minding her own business.

The rest of the conversation she tuned out and just texted back and forth with her girlfriend. Attempting to school her features from showing anything In front of her colleagues.

"What about you Melissa? What are your plans for Valentines? Any special someone you'll be having?" Janine called out to the woman, breaking her away from her phone.

"Well the Daytona race is Valentines weekend and I already planned to go." She shortly answered.

"If Melissa did have any big plans, I'm sure Barb knows all about them." Ava came in. A dirty smile playing at her lips. "So come on Barb, spill her secrets!"

Barb had a look of 'are you serious' on her face. "I wouldn't dare tell someone else's business. If Melissa wanted us to know what she was doing, she would tell us. She hasn't mentioned anyone t me though," the kindergarten teacher let out. Moving from the table before anything could happen to her.

"Melissa, no offense, but you gotta get out there.

You're starting to seem like a prude." Ava had a disappointed look as she left the room. Other teachers following as their lunches came to an end.

Melissa sending out a few more text before leaving as well to get her class from gym. She was minding her own, rereading a few text, when she could hear Janine running up on her. "No Janine I will not be talking about my plans for the weekend. What I do outside of school is not your business nor should you want it to be."

"Ok, but I was going to ask more about this Daytona race?" Janine finally caught up. Walking alongside the other teacher eager for answers. "I mean really how did you get tickets? They sold out within the hour. Not to forget how expensive the whole trip is."

"I know a guy." Was all she answered with and ended the conversation. "If you still like it next year, maybe I'll get you a ticket to come with and you can bring Jacob. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal!" She squealed and ran off. Eager to tell the other of the offer.

Melissa shook her head but continued with her day. Counting down the days till she was on her mini break.

And after a few days that felt like eternity, it was finally Friday.

~

It was an hour before the day had ended and Melissa had sent her kids off to art class. Her phone began ringing and she didn't need to look to see who it was.

"And what do I owe this honor?" She teased.

"Yeah, yeah, I wanted to let you know that Mikayla will be stopping by the house to grab your bags, then to get you from work to take you to the airport. She's agreed to watch the house while we're gone and to get us once we're back home. I also told her to grab you an airport outfit. I figured you wore either those sexy black pants or a pair of jeans that make you look even sexier." The voice of her girlfriend played in her ear. Lighting up her day by just the sound of her voice.

Melissa let out a soft hum. "You really know how to flatter a woman. And I did wear my sexy black pants. They looked nice with my pink top and boots." She described lightly what her outfit looked like. Yet she knew Phoebe already knew exactly what the outfit looked like.

"I love that outfit on you. Sad I can't be there to see it on you and take it off," she hummed, only to go silent after. Fiddling around with something in the hotel room.

Melissa listened, hoping to figure out what she was messing with. "Hun? You still there?" She broke into the silence. Getting a distant hum from the other end of the line. "Pheebs? What are you doing that had you so distracted?"

"Oh just some papers for the race tomorrow, just a few waivers so if anything goes wrong." The brunette simply answered. Phoebe had lied right through her teeth. In her hand was the rings she had bought for Melissa.

Watching as the moss agate and diamonds shined in the light. A giddy smile pulling at her lips.

"You know I don't like when you say that. Nothing will go wrong and you'll be fine." Melissa huffed. She really hated when Phoebe would mention those waivers. Yes it was always a possibility but not one she liked to hear or think of for an even a second. It worried her how Phoebe was always so calm with what she does.

"I can't wait to see you tonight." Phoebe let out, changing the topic entirely. Feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness to see her girlfriend again. Putting the ring back in her bag and putting it back in the corner.

Melissa felt loved at those words. The thought of someone waiting for her just did things she couldn't explain. Especially after Joe when she was so young. She never thought she would get the chance of love again. But here was this young racer who had millions of people dying to take her out, and she chose a second grade teacher.

Melissa knew Phoebe loved her deeply. It was in the words that would be said, the amount of emotion in her voice, the looks she would only give to Melissa. Even after all the ups and downs, Phoebe never once thought of leaving her side. Always there to reassure any bad thought that could come to Melissa's mind.

"Only a few more hours, hun. Then I'll watch you win and we'll go out to celebrate," the red head put the phone on speaker on her desk. Sorting out her last hour before the day ended. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Well I have a press conference to talk about how I feel about my eighth Daytona race. Questions are probably going to be if I think I'll win, if I'll be able to beat the record finally, what training I've been doing, questions about other drivers. I'll save my cocky smile because there's always a chance I won't win no matter how good I think I am. But then I have an early dinner planned with a few racers. Then l'll be back before you arrive at the hotel to greet you." Phoebe summarized the rest of her day. Leaning back to fall onto the bed, letting out a huff.

Melissa couldn't help the laugh, "sounds like a hard, hard day." She teased. A groan being her answer. "It's only a few more hours. Then you have a long, long, season to play out."

"Don't remind me!" Phoebe cried, covering her face with her hands. There was another short silence.

"Pheebs?"

"I think I'm ready to be done after this season." She quietly confessed.

"What?" Melissa froze in her seat. Picking up the phone to her ear. "What do you mean?"

"Ten out of the twelve months I'm gone racing. I hardly get to see you. I'm coming close to thirty-five and I've spent my twenties well. I've traveled the world, did what I love, but now I want to be with who I love. You've supported me since the first race I ever did, now it's my turn to come support you." Phoebe was quiet while explaining.

Staring up to the ceiling as she thought about life after.

"But what about beating the record?" Melissa questioned. Wanting to know where this suddenly came from. "You love racing, hun. I love watching you race."

"I've already made history. Nobody's won seven Daytona races in a row. I train and train, but I'm ready to give up my throne to another young racer. Next year there's supposed to be the next me coming in. And I've watched her race, I've raced with her, I've taught her. She's ready to take my number and I'm ready to give it to her. My legacy is getting carried on, and I know that." Phoebe stretched out.

Melissa thought for a moment. "What ever you choose hun, I will be your biggest fan and your number one fan." She reassured. "But I have to go, have to go get my class. I'll see you tonight though angel. I love you."

"Alrighty, I love you too Mel. I'll see you in a few hours." Phoebe ended the call, almost instantly rolling over to burry her face and take a quick nap.

Melissa sat still for only a moment, processing the news. A part of her was so overjoyed to hear it all, but also sad to know that the goal was almost completed.

Meanwhile Phoebe was being ambushed to get ready for the press. A light touch up being done to her hair and makeup. The outfit being laid out on the bed.

If there was anything Phoebe didn't expect from the dream, was becoming a fashion influence. It only happened because she wore her race jacket out one day and everyone thought it was a fashion statement. She let them go with it anyways and decided to start a collection of race jackets to wear. They kept her warm during the

seasons.

"You know, they're gonna ask about your girlfriend. After you posted that little anniversary thing back in January. Everyone's been trying to get you on talk shows for it." Stephen walked in, handing the lemon water over.

"Thank you, and yeah probably. I mean I've been dating her for over five years now. In a few days she'll be my finance hopefully." She took a sip of the drink, humming in approval. "You've never failed to make my lemon water taste just right."

"I've been your manager since you were a child. Of course I know how to keep you pleased. Plus the new you.." he trailed off moving around to start getting things tidied up.

Phoebe huffed. "She's going through something right now. I'll talk to her tomorrow anyways, she's watching next to you today. I mean after this season, she's the one who you'll have to talk through a press, not to forget races. So be patient with her. You were with me, and she's almost as good as me. In a few years I bet she'll be better than me."

Stephen hummed in disagreement. "Nobody will ever be better than you. I don't think anyone else will win seven Daytona races in a row."

There was a collective agreement from the team working on her. Making her realize, she has made history already. This race will just add to her achievements.

"How did Melissa feel about you telling her you're done after this season?" The lanky brunette sat in a chair close by. Still scrolling through the schedule laid out for them. "She upset?"

"She didn't sound upset. She said she'd support me no matter what. If anything, and she wouldn't have admitted if, but I think she was thrilled i decided to call it now." She watched as they worked on fixing her makeup and hair. How they moved so carefully but efficiently.

"And how do you feel?"

"Like I can do normal people things now. I can spend time with people and not just two months. I don't have to worry about racing as much. Next year I'll get to get a dog maybe." She went over. Smiling at the idea of settling down finally with Melissa.

The two of them together just doing nothing for a day. The two of them traveling more. The two of them cooking. The two of them drinking. The two of them partying. The two of them celebrating.

Just the two of them.

"Well before I loose you into your fantasies, get changed so we can get this over with. And we're going quick. You'll do press, come back and change into the dress, then to dinner. Then you'll get dropped off before I go pick up Melissa and bring her back." Stephen summed up before leaving with the hair and makeup. "Make it quick princess!" He called back.

Phoebe yelled back and then just stood in the room. Staring into the mirror. This was it. The start of the weekend. "One race. Then proposal. That's all." She mumbled to herself.

~

Melissa watched as the clock slowly ticked over.

Almost cheering as the final bell rang. For the last hour she's let her kids have a valentines party. It was the easiest excuse to distract them and be able to watch Phoebe's press. Smiling when they asked several questions about the anniversary post.

She began to pack up after walking all her kids out and making sure they got picked up. It was just her and her silence before it was ruined.

"So. Are you going to tell me why you're rushing out and suddenly a fan of NASCAR? Or am I just in the dark with everyone else?" Barb stopped by the door. Once Melissa looked up, the older walked closer, closing the door behind her. "Who is he?"

Melissa frowned at this. "I've always been a fan of

NASCAR, just figured it wasn't a topic you would ever want to talk about."

"Melissa, you have told me every detail about your life and for someone who claims to have liked racing for almost a decade, I would think it's something that gets mentioned once." Barb frowned. Sitting on the first desk in front of the teacher desk.

The red head only shrugged. Secretly wanting to explode and tell all about her girlfriend. "I have to go, but we can talk more when I get home?"

"Melissa Schemmenti, I don't know what you're hiding but I better be the first to know." Barb hugged the friend goodbye. Leaving to let the other be free for her weekend excursion.

~

Phoebe sat at the dinner table. The baby blue dress clingy to her figure as she chatted with the other racers her age.

"So, you and your girlfriend? It's been what, eight years? You tying that knot soon?" Mike had piqued interest. "I mean you posted an anniversary thing back in like January."

Phoebe shook her head with a smile. "Not that it's any of your business, but I am planning on proposing this weekend. We have a dinner just the two of us on Sunday before we fly home." She confessed. Feeling the butterflies at just the thought of proposing.

"And are you gonna show the world?" Andrew jumped in. The boys quick to jump on the train of questions.

"What is this? An interrogation? You guys have never shown interest in my relationship, why start now?" Phoebe narrowed her eyes at the table. Waiting for one of them to crack.

They all shared a look. "Well I mean, after you posted about her, it's hard not to be curious. We knew she existed but you went public. It's free game now. If press can ask, so can we." Joey answered for the group. "So come on. You've met all our wives. Now tell us about yours."

"Well, we met on my first race and I told myself that she was my motivation. After I went out and drank galore, I texted her drunken compliments and then after three years of talking and getting to know her and gain her trust, I ask her to be my girlfriend for the billionth time and she said yes. She's been to almost all my races, and has been my biggest fan since day one. And now I get to be her biggest fans in hope she says yes." She babbled on. Zoning out on everyone as she thought of her Melissa.

The boys all joked and teased her. It was the greatness of being close with the other racers.

They were always like big brothers. Always supporting each other if one won or if they all lost. They still made light of every race.

There was a text from Stephen that lit up the phone. Showing off the lock screen of Melissa. Dave was the first to grab at the phone. Examining the picture entirely. "Ya know, I would've never thought you for red heads." He chuckled.

"Red head?!" Andrew shouted while practically flying from his seat. Everyone trying to gather around and see the screen.

Tim was shocked the most. "A milf?!" He had wide eyes, like he had seen the world explode. "Thats Who your girlfriend is?!"

"Five years strong. Boutta make her my wife. Give her the wedding she dreams of. Settle down and take care of her ya know? Let her be able to do things she never has." Phoebe reached for her phone, not pleased when they all pulled it away and gave her a look. "It's my phone!"

"But it's about to be us who have the conversation," Joey smirked. Instantly being handed the phone. "Hey hun, just wanted to let you know I've landed!" He read in a girly voice.

"She landed?!" It was Phoebe's turn to look shocked. "I have to go. I'm supposed to meet her back at the hotel. It was nice to have dinner with you guys. I'll see you tomorrow!" She grabbed her phone, holding her dress up as she ran out with her jacket thrown over her shoulders. Listening to the boys laugh as she moved quickly in heels.

She ran right out into the car and was off before anyone could recognize who it was. Praying Stephen wouldn't drive her back, especially after she spammed his phone to detour.

Within fifteen she was back at the hotel and in her room. Moving the ring out of her bag and into her racing bag. Knowing Melissa doesn't go in there as much as any other bag.

Just as she zipped up the bag, the door opened and in walked Stephen and Melissa. "She should be back by now. Maybe changing out of her dress." He mentioned and walked back to the door. "Tell her ass to be up by ten and ready to go by eleven. The track lets people in around noon and the race is set to start at one. Goodnight Melissa."

"Will do, night." She bowed her head, trying to remember all the times to tell you. Giving the man a second to leave before rushing into the bedroom. Eager to see this dress you were in.

Melissa didn't even bother to knock as she opened the door. Freezing in awe at how the baby blue did Phoebe justice. How it hugged her figure deliciously. The slit up the leg that showed off a little bit of her tattoo. The silver heels that wrapped around her calves.

"Hi hun," she said softly. Still staring at her beautiful girlfriend. Really burning the picture into her head. "Is that what you wore to dinner with the guys?"

A careful hum was her answer. "They asked about you. It seems everyone is curious about you. They want to meet you I think," a small laugh left Phoebe's lips. "I missed you." She came up to Melissa. Hugging her like she would disappear at any second. And the older hugged just as tight. The two just enjoying the other in the moment.

"You should wear dresses more. You look really good in them." Melissa teased, pinching the sides of her girl. "Let's get you changed, then we can settle in. You have a big day tomorrow."

"I'm happy you're here with me then," Phoebe pecked her cheek before pulling away and pushing Melissa onto the bed. Crouching to take of her boots. "I told Mikayla to grab you your travel slippers. I'm sorry you were in boots the entire time."

The green eyed beauty was confused. The action wasn't what she had really meant, but she couldn't oppose. Not to a face like that. So she just let Phoebe continue to undress her all while in that blue dress.

The two fell into a peaceful silence as Phoebe moved around to get pajamas for them both.

This is what Melissa had craved for so long. This domestic feeling. That everything was playing out how it was meant to be. She had someone who wanted to take care of her forever and now she had it. Her everything was moving around the hotel room in a baby blue dress and sparkly heels.

She was so lost in the feeling she didn't realize the tears that began to creep up on her. "Mel?" Phoebe's voice brought her back. "Sweetheart you're tearing up, what's wrong?" Phoebe was back in front of her, crouching to look up at her.

Melissa opened her mouth and just gave a dry laugh. "I love you so incredibly much, hun. That's all. You found me when I was at my lowest and you lifted me up all the way. And I can't thank you enough."

Phoebe blushed and beamed. Melissa had seen this smile few times but it was a smile full of pure happiness and love and care. It was the smile she wore when they finally became official. The same smile she wore when they said 'I love you' for the first time. The smile she reserved for Melissa, and only Melissa.

"I love you too, Mel. From every part of me." She grinned as she stood up. "Absolutely in love." She thought out loud while looking at Melissa. Taking her in now and here.

"Come on, your turn." The woman wiped her tears.

Moving so Phoebe could sit down. "And it's ok she forgot my shoes, saves me space and shoe dilemmas."

Phoebe softly laughed, "still though. Now you have to wear boots to the race. I mean they make you look sexy don't get me wrong, but your feet will be aching."

"Well then I guess tomorrow night you'll have to help me out of them and soothe the ache. Do you think you could do that?" Her voice was teasing, making the younger shiver. And when they met eyes, Phoebe saw nothing but mischief, making her cheeks burn at the ideas. "My little racer. What would I do without you?"

"I can tell you what you wouldn't be doing," Phoebe smirked. Having a playful joke lined up but lost it as Melissa's eyes darkened before her.

"And what's that hun?" She let her hands wander up the soft legs, only to rake her nails down them. Humming in sheer delight at the physically shudder. "Cause I know exactly what I am going to do. And it starts with getting rid of this dress."

The manicured hand pushed the silky fabric up her legs. Revealing the blue panties that were decorated with a little white bow.

Melissa pulled on her shoulder, causing Phoebe to fall onto her back. "This how you get everyone into bed, Ms.Schemmenti?"

"Only cute racers." Her hands were holding onto hips. Massaging her finger tips into the soft skin. "But I'll save this for tomorrow night." She pulled away.

A boo was given in return. "Now you got me all hot and bothered." Phoebe exhaled dramatically. "Room service and a movie?"

Melissa placed a kiss to her forehead. "Sounds like my type of night. You shower first and I'll order for us, even pick their good wine."

"No wine, just food and us. And come shower with me, it'll save us both time." Phoebe gradually made it to the bathroom. Having a luring look in her eyes. Melissa let a Cheshire grin take over as she followed close behind.

For the next forty-five minutes, the two were lost in the shower. It had started of sweet and wholesome. Melissa had her hands in the mane of brown, scratching and scrubbing away any stress and worry. And it would've stayed that way had she not scratched right by the nape of the neck. Earning a muffled whine and her girlfriend even closer to her.

She let out a light chuckle and continued. Thinking nothing but a reflect of it. But when the noises happened a few times more, Melissa couldn't contain herself. The idea of just her touch doing so much to someone drove her insane.

That's why her lips found the soft neck. Kissing up to the pulse point and sinking her teeth in carefully. Sucking hard on the point, taking joy in how Phoebe squirmed immensely at the action.

Her head fell to give more access, crying out when curious hands found her boobs. She was ready to give everything and skip dinner.

It didn't help when Melissa spun her and kissed her hard. Hard and passionate. Every ounce of her love was poured out through just a single kiss.

Melissa felt hungry. Her hands began to hunt for anything to inflict more sounds. Desperate to hear any lewd noise that was caused by her.

First it was a hand slithering across Phoebe's stomach that made her chill, but it was the squeezing of her hips that made her shake with need. "Please Mel.." was lost in the steamy air as a skilled hand parted her legs and finding the right spot almost instantly. Teasing her clit with slow, agonizing circles that only took her so far.

"My sweet girl..." Melissa hummed as she added more pressure. Her lips found a spot right next to Phoebe's ear. Letting out a warm breath against the shell before bitting on it. Pulling a moan that would make a porn star blush.

It took them both back. They stopped and stared at each other. Both blushing, one more than the other, but just staring at each other. A hand reached to the ear. Stroking over where she bit. "Sensitive ears?" Melissa faintly smiled.

Phoebe shrugged, "I didn't know either." She huffed. "So..."

"Are you ok? Do you need a moment or anything?" Melissa tilted her head, worry evident in her eyes.

She was ready to care for the brunette almost instantly.

Phoebe shied away, feeling a small blush creep in her. "Do it again?" She looked through her lashes. Driving Melissa up a wall with the simple expression.

Melissa pulled her by the waist, flush against her body now. Phoebe could feel their heart beats finding the same rhythm.

In the moment she could only feel love. This was her other half. Her definite soul mate. Their hearts were united to one.

Her thoughts were mushed when she felt the same sensation. This time it was longer and full of hands grabbing at her skin. Melissa always knew how to touch her. How to make her absolute putty in her very hands.

Phoebe would be a fool not to let her. Her hands ran over Melissa's, trying to direct them towards her thighs. Eager for the hands to work their own magic.

No matter how many times they did this act, Phoebe could always feel her heart thumping in her chest. Feeling like at any second her ribs would break and her heart would fall out her chest and right into Melissa's hands.

Where she would hope that it'd be put away and treasured. Never to be touched or harm by anyone other than the key holder.

Melissa's index and middle finger slide further down. Teasing the dripping hole before slowly sinking in. Lost at the sensation. "You're so perfect, hun. Everything I've ever hoped for." Melissa would whisper into the younger woman's hair, a devilish smirk toying her lips.

The words made Phoebe gasp. Her hand gripping onto Melissa's arm that wrapped around her waist. Needing to be grounded by anything.

It had been awhile since the two had a chance to appreciate each other. Between school and constant practices, the two were just tired. The most they had time for was laying in each other's arms and sleeping. But this was relieving.

"It's been so long since I got to have you like this.

My little racer. Always moving so fast, but now we're gonna go slow. Just relax with me, against me, for me." Her voice was low and raspy. Almost being drowned out by the shower.

Phoebe's heart was pounding on her chest. She was worried it might break through for real with how hard it was beating. And it didn't help when she could feel Melissa's matching with every beat.

The racer couldn't help but begin to tremble. Feeling overwhelmed in the best ways entirely. "Just like that sweetheart. I can feel how close you are. You've missed me just as I've missed you. Didn't you?"

"Yes...it's been too long Melly." Phoebe whined.

The knot that had begun to tightened was suddenly too tight. "I'm right there, please Mel."

Melissa hummed and bit on the others ear again.

Both their holds becoming firm as Phoebe fell apart. "Thats it, you're ok. Doing so well." Melissa whispered sweet nothings to her. Holding her through her entire high and even after. Loving the feeling of just having her love in her arms.

Phoebe spun to face Melissa. The warm water on her back now. Her soft gaze peaked through her lashes. "You are amazing." She geeked. Her smile touching from ear to ear. "Now...it's your turn to relax."

She sunk onto her knees, kisses being left behind.

Kisses over Melissa's neck, her pulse, her collarbones, her chest, down her stomach, and to her thighs. "My beautiful woman. How lucky I am to have you," Phoebe smiled up. The delicacy in her eyes meaning nothing but love.

She licked her lips once over before pressing kisses closer and closer. Making Melissa hum in anticipation. Her head rolling back at the feeling of Phoebe's tongue licking through her folds. A delicious moan fell to Phoebe's ears, spurring her on with each move. Her hands holding onto Melissa, grabbing at her figure and massaging the pads of her fingers against it.

Melissa adored how the hands worked against her. They were so careful when pushing and pulling. So feather light when running miles along her. "Just like that Pheebs.." Melissa panted. Her hips rocking forcefully. Her hands found home in Phoebe's hair. Pulling from the scalp and earning moans from below. "You like that? Your hair being pulled?" Melissa groaned. Pulling just slightly harder. It gave her another moan, vibrating her entire body right over the edge. She came with a call of Phoebe's name.

The two took a second to catch their breaths. Humming as Phoebe slowly licked her clean. Rising to give a quick kiss before moving to let the cold water hit Melissa's front.

Phoebe, quick to rush out and into a towel. Running to the bed with giggles filling the room. She laid on her stomach, her body still dripping of water.

"We're gonna need new sheets now," Melissa walked into the doorway. Rolling her eyes as Phoebe made point to look her up and down.

"Well then let's make the most of this mess then,"

Phoebe tease, pushing her hips back and into the air.

She pushed up to crawl to the other side of the bed. Meeting Melissa at the edge with her bottom lip between her teeth. "Don't you wanna get messy?" Phoebe reached for Melissa, pulling her onto the bed. Straddling her waist and holding onto her waist.

Melissa chuckled, her hand pushing a wet strand of hair back. "You are so full of youth and energy."

"Then let me use my youth and energy to spoil you." Phoebe pressed her lips against the thumping pulse on Melissa's neck. Soon wrapping her lips around the same spot and sucking hard. Eager to leave a hickey in the morning.

Her hand wandered down between Melissa's legs. Tracing a range of circles on the bundle of nerves. Her other hand keeping Melissa spread out on the bed.

"How did you get so good," Melissa gave an airy laugh. "Your first time you couldn't even-" her sentence ended with a loud moan. She couldn't figure out what Phoebe did, but god did it feel good.

Melissa began to arch off the bed, her hips moving with Phoebe. The movement ceasing as Phoebe's arm pushed her hips down and held them there. "It'll feel better if you stay still Melly," Phoebe whispered. Her warm breath fanning across Melissa's neck.

And it did. Melissa wanted to scream to match the feeling. It worked her right over again. Leaving her short of breath. Phoebe pulled off, a dirty smirk on her face. The bruising and bite marks were scattered all across the left side.

The brunette picked up the phone and called for new sheets and pillows. Finally throwing the pajama over to Melissa. "The food should be up in a few. I ordered light since we have breakfast in the morning."

"Since when was breakfast?" Melissa sat up, slipping on the shirt. Her bottoms close behind. "We've never done breakfast before a big race?"

Phoebe beamed, "to making new memories. We can't live the same way forever." Phoebe worked on finding her pajamas next.

"What does that mean?" Melissa began to deconstruct the bed. Folding them into a small pile aim the table. "You tryna pull something on me?"

"Oh Mel, you always assume the worst from me.

It's nice little breakfast in bed. I heard the hotel has a really nice breakfast selection." Phoebe came back over, clothed in an old racing sweatshirt. "Just us before a race."

Melissa wanted to think further into it, really she did, but once Phoebe was helping to get the bed ready for new sheets, she didn't let her thoughts wander.

"Did Stephen tell you any times?" Phoebe said, knowing the answer entirely to the question. He had texted her the schedule for the day weeks ago, forcing her to remember it on her own.

Melissa froze, trying to think about the times. "He did.." she was thinking over it. "There was a noon, a one maybe, and something else." She threw out what she could remeber.

"I have been instructed to be up at ten, ready by eleven, track opens at noon, race starts at one." Phoebe recited. Her face never loosing a smug smile.

The red head scoffed playfully and resumed helping with the bed. Finishing getting ready for bed while waiting for room service. The two holding a small conversation while they moved.

The room service coming up while Phoebe was still doing her skin routine. "Is that room service?" She called out. "There's tip money on the dresser for them!"

Melissa looked around, not seeing it anywhere.

Her second thought was look in the bags. First it was the purse, then it was the racing bag. Just as her hand grabbed the bag Phoebe jumped out.

"Mel." Her voice was demanding. It was solid and lacking that usual warmth. "The money was right here," she smiled. Taking it out to the worker and bidding them goodbye.

"Got pretty stern there for a second," Melissa picked up the sheet. "Haven't heard that voice for a good minute."

Phoebe could tell she wasn't going to let it go as easily. "I have a bomb in my bag." Was her first thought. It came out before she could think it over. It gained a laugh, "I'm sorry about that voice though. I don't know why it came up."

"It's ok hun, you're under a lot more stress. I know you don't like when anybody goes through that bag." Melissa finished putting on the sheets, moving so Phoebe could throw the pillows back to the top.

Phoebe hummed, flopping down onto the bed with a gruff. "How was your day? Work? Barb?"

Melissa sat next to her, lying on her side with her head propped up. "They found out I was a fan of NASCAR today. Janine wants to go to the next Daytona race, I said if she can hold onto liking nascar that long I'll get her and Jacob passes. Barb questioned me a bit. I think she's upset I've never mentioned it. She asked me who he was." She summed up her day.

"Well wait till she finds out that he is a she," Phoebe rolled her head to look at Mel. "How come you've never mentioned me?"

"How come you're so interested in being known?" Melissa returned the question.

Phoebe was silent for a second. "Because once I start showing up with lunches for you, it's gonna be hard to keep me quiet. And plus, my coworkers know about you, yes they've never met you, but still."

"When you finish first, we can talk about this more." Melissa leaned over to place a chaste kiss. Moving to grab the dinner for the two and the tv remote.

~

Phoebe's eyes fluttered open. The sun peaking and illuminating the room. Her arm reached over to look for Melissa, frowning when there was an empty space.

The brunette sat up, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus her view. Searching around the room before moving out to the kitchen. "Mel?" Her groggy voice sounded the quiet room. "Mel are you still here?"

"Kitchen hun, use your nose." Melissa answered finally.

Phoebe crawled out of bed, following the sounds and smells that Melissa made from the mini kitchen.

With soft steps, Phoebe hugged Melissa from behind. Breathing her in with a huff. "No negative energy before a race, you know this."

"It's not negative," Phoebe grumbled. Taking another second before letting Melissa work. "I was supposed to be the one in the kitchen."

"No offense, and I'm only saying this cus I've been dating you for five years, you can not cook. And I mean that out of love and worry that one day you'll undercook something and get sick." Melissa poked. Knowing she made a point because it's already happened before. "Plus, you love my cooking."

Phoebe pondered over it, agreeing and sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter. "Are you excited today?" She began to zone in on how Melissa moved with the ingredients.

"It's your big race day. It's all they've been talking about on the news. Yous making history today," she didn't look up from cutting anything. She knew you were watching and listening. "Are you nervous?"

Phoebe wanted to answer, really she did, but there were absolutely no words to describe how nervous she really was. Today was the possibly the second biggest day in her life, the first would be the wedding.

"Pheebs? You still with me?" Melissa waved her hand in front of the spaced out girls face. "You've never been this nervous before, are you all right?"

Phoebe's head nodded for her. "I'm making history today." Phoebe couldn't help the smile that ran her lips. "And you'll be right by my side."

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else," Melissa whole-heartedly responded. "But seriously, just breathe today. No matter what, I think you are the world's greatest racer."

The smile only grew, along with a heavy blush.

Melissa took note of it. Phoebe was easy to fluster, a simple look would do if wanted, but this reaction wasn't a sexual thing. It was so new and it made Melissa feel a new sense of true love.

"What is going on with you today?" She tried to laugh off the look but it just couldn't be shakes. "I've seen you nervous before but this is so different. You're glowing almost."

Phoebe let a soft shrug go, "I just feel so lucky to be where I am. And I can only keep thinking into the future and where it'll take me. Not to mention I have the best, most amazing, delicious, most bad ass girlfriend right in front of me." Phoebe got up to come back around the counter. Walking right into the open arms and just sighing. "I love you."

"I love you too," Melissa placed a kiss to the side of her head. Resting hers against where she kissed.

If either were to move it would ruin the moment, but thankfully neither wanted to move. They enjoyed each other's existence  on such an extreme level.

"Do you want to eat before you get ready?" Melissa mumbled. Separating them just slightly. Phoebe nodded, slowly letting a mischievous grin forming. "Now what?" Melissa chuckled.

"Just that maybe I could have two breakfast?" Phoebe suggested the idea. "The first being what you made, which I'm assuming is pancakes, and then the second being you." She showed a toothy grin. A subtle pink grazing her features.

Melissa was baffled by the offer. Genuinely not expecting it. And she couldn't lie, the idea was tempting, but she knew how that could be a cause with a long line of effects. "How bout this, you win this race, and I'll let you do anything you can think of. Anything you've ever thought of. And if you loose, I'll be the one doing everything. Okay?" She spoke lowly. A sneaky smile toying with her lips.

"Deal," Phoebe quickly agreed. Sealing their deal with a kiss and moving to see the pancakes. "These look delicious Mel! Thank you!"

"Gotta start your day right hun, dig in. You have about half an hour before hell breaks in." Melissa grabbed herself a plate.

Phoebe bit the pancake whole, "hell?"

"Stephen has sent hair and makeup to get you ready. He texted me knowing you would still be asleep. So really eat now cause once Stephen gets here, you're really out of my hands." Melissa finished topping her food. "Let's eat in bed."

There wasn't much choice given as Melissa was already moving into the bedroom. Making herself comfy towards the middles of the bed. Phoebe only had the option to follow. Having the realization that today was the last day she'd be calling Melissa her girlfriend. The thought made her glow extremely.

~

Phoebe stood right by the car. Her heart was pounding as she put the helmet on.

"Alrighty, you've done this before. You've done it six more times before that. I'm gonna talk you through it. All of it. What I need from you, is to keep it steady. You can't freak on me." Stephen's voice crackled through the mic. "Talk to me kid."

"No freaking. It's a race I've done before. I can do this." She climbed in. Eliminating any second thoughts.

She took in the familiar car. Looking for her motivation once more, only failing to find it. "Stephen! Where's my pictures? It should be here, I can't find it. I never race without it, and what if-"

"Breathe. We decided today you needed a bigger motivation. You have a lot on you. So, Phoebe it has been an honor to race with you, but for your record breaking race you need someone else. And before I pass it over, I know I'm talking a lot, your physical motivation is in the bag under your chair. Now good luck, and go kick their ass." His voice sounded almost emotional for once.

"You so suck, ya know?" Phoebe sniffed. She had been crying a little bit too hard. Phoebe reached under, feeling the bag and pulling it up. She reached in, laughing through the tears. "What's my next surprise?"

"I am," Melissa's smile was evident in her voice. Even as she heard Phoebe groan in tears. "You ready?"

Phoebe had to lift her visor to wipe the tears. "Let's kick some ass."

~

After hours of laps, hours of conversations, an hour of singing like there was no tomorrow, and hours of laughs, Phoebe was coming up in her last lap. Passing the mark before the final.

"You're so close hun. I can see you. This is it. Dave is behind you, Andrew right behind him. You just have to make these few turns and then your home solid." Melissa was standing high up. Watching the blue car race around a few more corners. "Thats it angel, just a little more."

Phoebe was quiet. Suddenly feeling cold and nervous. "Mel. What do my surrounding looks like? Where's the line? How many more turns?" She quickly questioned. After doing so many laps, the track begins to blend together.

"Um, still in front of Dave and Andrew, you have two more turns and then a dash to the line. Is everything ok?" Melissa sensed the sudden shift. Examining the car quickly. "Pheebs?"

"It's fine. I'm just nervous. I have what, a minute left? Have I ever told you how much I really love you? I know I say it everyday but I want to say it for a gazillion more. Until time runs out. In this universe and every other one. I love you with everything I have Melly." Phoebe felt tears begin to fall again.

"Save your sappiness for when you can kiss me at the finish line. Front stretch hun. You're so close." Melissa had a death grip on the railing. Leaning to see Phoebe make the last turn. "I'm proud of you sweet girl. You've done so much for yourself. Last stretch, as fast as you can."

Phoebe put a bit more pressure. Watching as the number began to climb. Her heart was pounding with the growing speed. She could see it. The finish line. Dave and Andrew too far back to catch up now. She was right there. About to finish her eight Daytona race.

Five seconds off of the line the car began to fill with smoke. She reached for the ring without thinking and finished the race blind.

Melissa's voice fell on deaf ears as Phoebe began to search for the seatbelt buckle. Desperate to get out.

From the outside, Dave and Andrew stopped as fast as they could, rushing to get to Phoebe. Breaking the windows as smoke oozed out the car.

The crowd was in silence as other racers came to help. Medical standing by till the woman was retrieved. It was taking too long for comfort. Melissa couldn't stand back and watch. They were taking too long. She ran over, pushing through to see.

Regretting it as Phoebe was helped as she climbed out. Her helmet being taken off as she took deep breathes. Her body felt rigid and stiff. She sat back onto her legs looking to the sky then down to her hands.

"Thank you," she whispered when she looked back up. She stood and was still for a second. An infectious smile dawning on her as she began to cry of joy. She looked to the boys. "I just made NASCAR history...again." Her arms raised in the air, "fucking finally!" She cried out to the small crowd. Turning to the now put out car and running to jump on it. Listening to the crowd scream with excitement at their winner.

Phoebe laughed and glanced around. Finding her love easily out the crowd. That's when Phoebe jumped down and ran over to her. Grabbing her face and laughing. "I did it! I'm ok!" She wiped away the fallen tears. Pulling Melissa into her arms and just laughing. "I'm ok I promise."

Melissa held on tightly. "Had to go out with a bang huh?" She buried her face into Phoebe's neck.

Phoebe laughed again, "it's the only way to go out. If I won without any complication, did I really win? I'm ok that's what matters, we're ok!"

Melissa sniffled before leaving the embrace, standing arms length. "Congrats hun."

"I love you Mel."

"I love you too Pheebs."

Phoebe stated before smiling like a dork. "I set the records." She simply said. Turning to look at the car once more, she laughed. "I set the records!" She yelled. Earning cheers once more.

It was(almost) a perfect race.

~

Phoebe stood on the table, drink raised to the sky as Melissa pulled at the hem of her dress. Doing her best to keep her girlfriend reasonably covered. It wasn't that Phoebe was drunk or anything, but Melissa knew how unaware she could be of her own beauty.

"A toast! Mine of tonight! Thank you to everyone who has believed in me this year. To the boys for rushing to my aid. To Stephen, my manger since before time. To the pit team today. But mostly, thank you to Melissa." Phoebe rambled before looking down to the red head. The light making her glassy green eyes reflecting a million memories. "Thank you. For absolutely everything you have done for me."

Phoebe's glass raised at the end, everyone following with clinks of drinks together. The brunette jumped down, standing close to Melissa. "Thank you again. My motivation." Phoebe softly spoke. Her voice fading with the music and chatter, yet Melissa heard.

"Motivation? What does that mean?" She furrowed her brows, a small smirk playing at her lips.

"Every race I had a picture of you in the dash. But I think it's well lost now." Phoebe shrugged, defeat swimming in her eyes as she tried to play it cool.

Melissa laughed at the look. "Hun we can make more, what would your new motivation picture be?"

Phoebe thought for a second. Her fingers tapping against her chin. "You on our wedding day." She answered with a serious undertone. Enjoying the shocked look on Melissa's face.

"Well then get to it," she clapped back. Her eyes holding nothing but a childlike glimmer. "After all, it's been five years."

Phoebe's jaw dropped, "wow! Ok! And why was stopping you from asking?" She raised a brow, arms crossing over her chest.

Melissa winked and walked away. Her hips swaying just a bit more than usual. She knew she didn't need to answer. As she walked, she thought of the conversation. Yes Phoebe had mentioned getting married but Melissa never thought it would be to her. Yet here they were, five years deep and neither one had made a move to further their relationship. They agreed it was perfect as is. Melissa just smiled to herself as she started collecting her stuff.

"Melissa," Stephen waltzed up to the red head. Holding out his hand with a small piece of paper.

In closer inspection it was a picture of melissa. An old one from at least six summers ago. It was a date that Phoebe had planned and told Melissa to meet her by a coffee shop. She stood in a blue floral sundress, white Converses, and frilly socks. Half her hair pulled back into a blue bow with front pieces framing her face.

Meanwhile Melissa was in a long floral dress. A jean jacket over and her purse on her shoulder. Her red waves were messily, but almost perfectly, pulled up into a high ponytail.

"What is this?" She frowned looking up to the manager. Not sure how he had the picture.

"It was Phoebe's motivation but we gave her a better one. Enjoy your night with her. You make her happy beyond what she lets on." His soft lips turned up before he spun to head into the crowd.

Melissa hummed as she went back to examining the picture. Realizing she doesn't know what he meant by 'better motivation' really meant. But when her eyes found Phoebe's, they were already on her. A heavy blush on Phoebe's cheeks, yet her smile was stronger than ever.

With a single finger, Phoebe beckoned Melissa to follow her outside. Leading them off to walk along the beach as the sun began to set. Neither talking and just holding hands.

"I enjoy being with you." Phoebe hummed. Smiling to herself as the cold water washed over her feet. "You truly have changed my world for the better. I couldn't imagine a world where you said no to me begging you for a date."

Melissa snickered at the memory, "I'll give it to you. You had dedication and a schedule for asking me." She continued the reminiscing.

"Had to keep you thinking of me somehow. I wanted my chance desperately since the day I met you." The brunette confessed. "But..."

"But?" Melissa frowned. Fear suddenly running in her veins. "But what?"

"But now I ask you for another chance." The two had stopped walking at the point. Phoebe standing in face to face with Melissa.

Her green eyes watched as Phoebe lowered down on one knee. A small black bow coming into view. Tears began to fill her eyes and her breathing became irregular. She couldn't believe it.

"Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you know I adore everything about you. Your sass, your cooking, your death glares, everything. Every single thing about you I love. And I know it's five years, but I know I want to spend every morning by your side. Every night to go to sleep with you. Melly, will you marry me?" She had tears escaping from the corners of her eyes.

With a sniffle and a head bob, the ring was slid on and they shared a kiss. Listening to the cheers that happened from behind them. Many having phones to capture the moment.

"I love you so much," Phoebe gave a heartfelt laugh. Kissing Melissa passionately before raising her left hand into the air and cheering.

~

Monday had come around again. Big chatter in the teachers lounge about NASCAR.

"And now suddenly they're engaged! Like for five years they're a secret and now they're getting married. Crazy timing man." Jacob was going on about the engagement post made by Phoebe.

The picture being their silhouettes with the sunset, a heartfelt caption 'dedicated to my eternal happiness'. Keeping it brief and sentimental.

"Can't even guess who it is unless you compare figures. I mean you can clearly tell that this one is Phoebe and then this is her now fiancé. There's absolutely no trace." Janine stared at the post. In her head, if she stared long enough it was going to come to her.

Ava waltzed in with her signature smile. "Maybe it's a publicity stunt. Boost her name or whatever. I do it all the time."

"No, I don't think it is because there's no already existing rumors of her and anyone." Jacob debunked. Leaning to look at the picture once more. Really taking in the mystery woman.

Melissa was humming as she walked into the lounge. Her hands busy with her phone as she followed her daily routine. Making the room still at the new behavior.

That's when Janine saw it. The gold ring that made home on Melissa's ring finger.

"YOURE ENGAGED?!" She shouted. Putting the rooms focus on the ring as it shined in the light. "Since when were you even dating anyone?!"

"Since five years ago. Like I said, there's a lot you don't know about me." The red head winked and took her seat next to Barb, who looked a bit hurt at the new confession. "Let me explain why I never told you."

"Please, because I would love to know." She crossed her arms and leaned back, waiting for the reason to come out.

"Come over tonight, I know it's only Monday but I'd rather explain in private than with the goons listening." Melissa joked, her thumb points over to Janine and Jacob listening.

"So do we all get to find out after Barb or do we just get left in the dark?" Gregory piped in, geneuinly curious of this new relationship.

Melissa only shrugged and continued with her morning routine.

~

A few hours rolled by and Barb stood at Melissa's front door. A bottle of their favorite in hand and her purse in the other. The door opened and there was the red head. Her hair pulled up and blush on her cheeks. She opened it further for her friend.

"This better be good if they have you blushing like this." Barb walked past, making her own way to the kitchen. "Seriously Melissa. There's a whole life I don't seem to know about. So who ever this man is-"

"He's a she!" Melissa blurted out as Barbra had a view of the kitchen.

Her eyes had to be tricking her. Barbra didn't know much of NASCAR, wasn't her thing, but with the talk that Janine and Jacob had been doing, and with the news, it was very easy to tell who the person was. Phoebe Stern had a worried smile on her face as she chopped up food. "Before you ask, no I can't cook. Mel just has me chopping up the basics."

"That was not my first question," Barbra turned to Melissa. "You have two minutes, and that is me being generous, on why she's in your kitchen."

Melissa moved closer. "This is my fiancé!" She said with spirit fingers aimed at Phoebe. "For the past five years this has been a secret mostly for both of our privacy, but recently we've been more ok with being public. We wanted to introduce each other to the most important people in our lives before going full public." She was quick to explain, taking a stand next to Phoebe and taking the cut up vegetables and dumping them into the bit. "And I'm sorry I kept it a secret for so long, the only people who really knew were our families. We just didn't want it to be a spotlight topic."

Barb was silent for a long minute. Just staring between the two and trying to think of anything. She exhaled heavily, "it's nice to meet you." She held out her hand, trying to keep her smile up.

"Phoebe. Mel has told me so much about you, it's nice to know she's terrible at impersonating you." The brunette softly shook the hand. She was giving her best smile, hoping to make good first impressions with the best friend.

"And the internet has told me so much about you, dear. I guess I might as well get ready for a night of questions!" Barb joked and moved to get three wine glasses.

Melissa and Phoebe shared a look before going with it. Acting as if that was the reaction they were expecting.

And after hours of talking, Barbra Howard knew this was the one for Melissa. She liked how open Phoebe was and how willing she was to treat the two woman while they conversed. She could see the look of love in those brown eyes every time they were on the red head. Melissa was in very safe hands and Barb knew it.

The two were slightly more wine drunk than Phoebe (they had finished two bottles). "Ya know Phoebe, I really like you. And even though I was unaware of you for almost ten years, just based on tonight I can tell you really to have good intentions with Melissa." The older woman spoke. Her eyes a bit hazy from the glasses, but she stared to Phoebe. A soft, warm smile plastered in her lips. But it quickly dropped, "but so help me. You pull what Joe did and you will find out. Understood?" Her face was stern.

Phoebe felt a cold wave rush over her as the color in her face drained a bit. She knew this woman was serious. From what Mel had said? There was no doubt Barbra Howard had a mean, vicious bite. "Yes ma'am." She quietly got out. Grabbing the glasses and placing them in the kitchen.

"I should get going. Gerald is outside, but before I do. Come summer, join us on our cruise?" Barb extended the invite. "Originally it was just going to be Melissa and an adventure to find her someone but it's clear she doesn't need my help with that."

"I'd love to join, I'm sure Mel already knows the dates." Phoebe agreed, looked over to Melissa who was staring with that look in her eyes. Both their cheeks began to warm up, both for different reasons. Phoebe snapped her head back to Barbra, proceeding to play it cool. "It was lovely to finally meet you. I enjoyed the night entirely."

"It was lovely to meet you too, Phoebe. Everyone at work will have a hard time believing you Mel." The woman gave a sly smile and left with a goodnight.

Phoebe hummed her way back into the kitchen, ready to clean up the few glasses and plates. Laughing when arms wrapped around her from behind.

"You got along with Barb just fine," Melissa whispered. Hugging tighter and becoming closer each second.

Phoebe hummed with a shrug. "You've told me so much of course I did. I want your friends and co workers to like me. I have your family down but there's bound to be more than just them at the wedding."

Melissa was silent. In her arms stood her fiancé. Soon to be wife. The gorgeous, sexy, young woman in her arms wanted to be legally bound to her. She couldn't help but feel hot at the idea. To see Phoebe on the wedding day all dressed up. To get to tell people that that was her wife.

"Earth to Melly? Wedding already giving you cold feet?" Phoebe teased, still washing the dishes. "I promise I won't take complete control and give you some say."

Melissa still wasn't back from her own world. Still staring at Phoebe's hands under the water. She couldn't seem to process the fact she was getting married again. But this time there was no jitters, no cold feet, no second thoughts. Just pure adoration and love. Her entire world was right here. "Mel? Really, what's going on back there?"

"I get to love you forever," Melissa sighed. Squeezing Phoebe one good time before pull away. She leaned on the island and just admired her fiancé. Fiancé. She loved how it sounded. This is Phoebe, my fiancé she thought to herself. "You are so beautiful."

Phoebe giggled at the compliment,  "not too bad yourself, Schemmenti." She dried off her hands and turned to mirror Melissa's pose. Seeing the shock look at the response making her smile a bit. 

"Thats my line," Melissa sassed as she squinted her eyes.  Only for them to widen as Phoebe waltzed over, getting close. Her arms trapping Melissa between the counter and herself. Melissa could feel the warmth of her breath now.

They were so close in the moment. Neither one wanting to move, a silent fight for control happening. Melissa was stubborn when it came to these stare offs. No matter how badly she wanted to give in to those sweet brown eyes. But it was different this time. The sweet brown eyes were hypnotizing her tonight. Telling her to give in for just one night. It'd be worth it if she did.

Phoebe saw the falter in Melissa's stare, knowing she won. Her head dipping close to the other's neck, slowly peppering kisses up.

"My Melly," she hummed, earning a low hum in return. Phoebe pulled back, smiling brightly at Melissa. Grabbing her hand and just pulling her towards the bedroom. Leading her in first before closing the door and coming to stand toe to toe. Her hands softly playing with the shirt. "I can't wait to marry you. To start a family. To grow together. To be together."

Melissa didn't know how to respond to this new side. It was like the title brought something out into the light. It was much more alluring than Phoebe's normal behavior. "Phoebe Schemmenti does have a nice ring to it," Melissa began to rub her hands up and down Phoebe's arms.

Phoebe hummed and leaned in for a kiss. A pleased hummed as Melissa kissed back with hunger. Pulling her by the waist to be touching. The kiss getting hotter and their breathing heavier. They stumbled backwards towards the bed. Hitting the side and falling backwards with a thump.

The kiss broke and Melissa scooted back with her arms. Entranced as Phoebe crawled up her. A devious look swirling around her eyes. "What has gotten into you?" She whispered with a smile.

"It's the title." Phoebe simply answered. Leaving kisses against Melissa's neck carefully. Only to lead her astray as she bit down of the pulse point. Soothing it with her tongue and kisses. "Something about it."

Melissa's back arched a bit when Phoebe began sucking on the point. Eager to leave a bruise but knew she couldn't. Not till summer obviously.

Phoebe let her hands wander under the shirt. Lightly trailing her hands up, bringing the shirt up with her. Wasting no second to her the fabric off and on the floor. Leaving Melissa's pink bra exposed. Phoebe loved how the color looked against her skin. It made her mouth water.

"You're staring intensely this time." Melissa poked, her finger jabbing Phoebe in the side. "If you're  going to do something, get to it."

"Someone doesn't like being kept waiting." Phoebe playfully rolled her eyes. Sitting up and removing her own shirt. Surprising Melissa with an intricate lace set. Embroidered flowers scattered about the fabric.

Melissa followed the lining with her eyes, realizing it's a one piece that still goes down. "What did I do to earn this?"

"You said yes," Phoebe pressed a kiss to her lips. Slow and soft. Taking her time with how she moved against Melissa. Her hips grinding down with precision. "Can't you picture it Melly? Our future together?"

It was something about how Phoebe was speaking that was driving Melissa mad. She felt squirmish and eager to proceed. "Pheebs..."

Her kisses began to travel. "Us in this house. Twins who run around, picture it Melly. Really picture it. The family vacations, telling your family, I want my future with you more than anything." Her words were true and sweet. Making Melissa feel dizzy at the mix of emotions.

Phoebes hands worked at the gold belt buckle, smoothly pulling off and undoing the jeans. Painfully slow dragging them down her pale legs. "Wouldn't you want that?"

"More than anything, Pheebs." Melissa was struggling to catch her breath. "I need something, anything, please. Just touch me the way you do!"

Phoebe gave one last hum, "anything for you, Schemmenti."

The jeans were yanked the rest of the way off. Leaving Melissa mostly bare. She gasped as kisses were placed along her stretch marks. "Phoebe?"

"I never tell you how beautiful you are. How insane you drive me with just a look. And then you start to speak and I loose all sense of reality." Phoebe spoke so softly, scared she might be dreaming. "I'm so happy you said yes."

The sound Melissa let out was new, but Phoebe didn't stop her actions. Continuing to pull the whimpers with just simple kisses. She kissed closer and closer to where Melissa needed her the most. Her hands snaking around the plush thighs. Pulling them more apart.

Melissa couldn't help the rush of heat that ran through her at the feelings she felt at the sight. It truly was the title. It had to be the title making Phoebe act like this. Her thoughts wanted to run on analyzing everything but couldn't focus at the first swipe. It was teasing and mean. Just barely brushing over her clit.

Phoebe didn't hold back after that. Her arms kept Melissa open while her tongue worked its magic. Listening to each moan and gasp that filled the air.

"Just like that....fuck.....oh god right there!" She panted. Tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. It was enough to hold her at the edge but not enough to set her over. "More...fuck Phoebe..."

Phoebe pressed her tongue flat and harder, earning a cry of her name as she repeated the action. Slowing as Melissa came down from her high. Love pecks being placed all over her inner thighs, which then became love marks. A painting of bruises soon formed.

Melissa was still catching her breathe as Phoebe shimmied out of her pants.

"The longer you look the more confident I'm going to feel." She smirked as she spun and posed a little bit. Popping out her ass and raising her arms. Stretching out her figure for full display. "Ruin me, Melly." She giggled and just as Melissa got up to grab her, she backed up. "But you have to catch me first," and before the red head knew it, she was playing a game of cat and mouse.

Her prize being Phoebe in any way. This was a new experience. They had never done anything near this before, but it seemed so effortless for Phoebe. So effortless to let Melissa chase her through the dimly lit house.

Melissa wanted to play along, see where this was really heading. So she grabbed a big shirt and began to search. Thinking nothing of the game till she really remembered the last time they played hide and seek. How quiet Phoebe could move around and she would never know. It was an unsettling feeling at times, when she actually had the intent to scare.

As melissa asked through the quiet house, she could feel hands on her but then once she turned around, Phoebe was no where in sight. "You little witch, face me like a woman." Her voice called out into the silence. Praying that the on edge feeling wouldn't show.

A soft hand dragged itself across her back, but just as she turned around, she found no one. Sighing, she proceeded with caution. Finding her way into the study and searching through the darkness. Heading in to get any source of light from the lamp.

"Melly," a seductive hum came from the doorway. Melissa's green eyes traced the outline. Drooling a little at the sight. "Your times up."

"I didn't know I was being timed." Melissa smirked, her feet carrying her over to stand close. "You don't make it easy for me either."

Phoebe flashed that pearly smile, "where'd be the fun in letting you win?" Her hands ran under the shirt, massaging Melissa's waist. "I won though, so it means I get to do whatever."

"Thats not fair, you only gave me like a minute." Melissa huffed with a frown. Freezing as Phoebe circled her and hugged her body tightly. Her lips hovering against her neck.

"Let me adore you Melly. You work so hard and do so much for me, let me just try and compare and give you this. Let me love you." Phoebe had the slightest whine in her voice. Desperate to please after so long.

Melissa couldn't help but feel weak in the moment. She couldn't say no if she wanted to. Phoebe had her wrapped around her pretty little finger. The way she was willing to do anything Phoebe would ask. From a simple kiss to murder.

"Fine," Melissa exhaled. Her tone seeming as if she was going to fight against it, but in the end, both knew she wouldn't.

A soft thank you was whispered before Phoebe found the pulse point again. This time loosing all control and leaving a hickey, dragging it all down the side of her neck.

Melissa loved the feeling. How Phoebes lips so easily worked against her skin. How effortless she had to try since she knew every inch of Melissa. "Pheebs...stop teasing me," she lowly warned. Her hands fidgeting just slightly at her side.

"Did you know, ever since I moved in and saw your office I couldn't stop thinking of how'd you'd look on top of it. Legs spread wide open while your head falls back. So Melly, as my prize, I want you on that desk." Her hands pushed her slightly towards the wood furniture. A glint of joy swirling in her eyes. It danced with lust and love as the two took steps in sync backwards.

Melissa lifted her self up onto the desk. Legs spreading as Phoebe came to stand in front of her. The two shared another passionate kiss. They moved slowly, knowing they were in no rush at all. But when Phoebe's hands are in the mix, Melissa needed more than just a kiss.

Phoebe could sense what she was doing, and she was too lost in the moment to keep teasing. She lowered down, leaving kisses behinds where she could.

Her eyes stared up at Melissa, finding the green ones and holding them. Her tongue giving a slow, sensual lick. She watched as the action caused the older woman's jaw to slack. Phoebe repeated the action, picking up her pace each swipe.

"You and that...that fucking tongue," Melissa grabbed a fistful of brown hair. "Fuck Phoebe, just like that!" She got out through a clenched jaw.

Melissa came with a violent jolt and a loud moan. Her thighs going to close, put were restricted. It took a second for her to process what was happening, and once she did her arms gave out. Putting her on her back as Phoebe didn't let up and kept eating her out.

"I haven't had a taste of you in too long. The amount of built up desire for you Melly, it's enough to kill a man." Phoebe's voice was low and tingly.

The room filled with strands of moans and curses as Phoebe brought Melissa over the edge multiple times more.

The three taps to her head being a signal that it was too much now. And while Melissa laid back, Phoebe ran to grab a cold towel and water. Along with an orange.

And after the cleaning up, the two sat on the floor in the living room. Leaning against each other and being content with the soft tv chatter.

The two just thinking of everything that just happened. Turning to look at each other in union, they smiled and laughed. It lasted a few seconds before Phoebe stared with a grin, "my fiancé." It was a whisper so quiet that it nearly got stolen by the wind.

[thatsdemko]

Woodward avenue - p. o’ward

masterlist

pairing: pato o’ward x fem!reader

warnings: talks of Detroit(but I’m from here) + minor anxious thoughts + implications of the future

a/n: I was the target audience for this fic 😅 so enjoy my self indulged fic! xx

the automotive business wouldn’t be what it was without Detroit. pato knows that, it’s why he’s wandered the streets of downtown Detroit, to pay his respect to those workers who created the business they have today. without Detroit, there couldn’t have been an Indy car, nascar, or even formula one. the automative business bloomed here, and now Indy car will race it’s straights and turns once again.

he’s not one to wander too far from the track, but the graffiti on the buildings and the smell of chili brewing grew his curiosity. he wandered the streets, and now began to wish he didn’t go alone. it wasn’t a scary city, he’s seen far worse, he’s now lost looking up at the Woodward street sign.

not a helpful soul roams the streets, just the drunk homeless man who mutters words to himself that are completely useless with directions. he’s lost hope, as he knows he’s got to be at the track in thirty minutes.

“let me guess, you wandered too far down Woodward?” your voice startled him. he turns around to see you standing there, an annoyed look on your face. you didn’t hate that indy car was back in Detroit, but you did hate the obnoxious sounds of the engines that interrupted your morning and afternoon.

“something like that.” he shoves his phone into his back pocket following you down the street. you weren’t too inviting to him, but he needed a way back to his motorhome, and he was sure by now people were beginning to be suspicious of his whereabouts.

“you a fan?” you point to the mclaren shirt, an automotive company you were well familiar with seeing. the cars were too expensive to be outsourced from Detroit, but your fathers dedication and passion to the fancy cars, helped you single him out on the street.

“a driver actually. and I need to be on the grid in thirty minutes.” he checks his watch nervously hoping you’re not leading him to a sketchy parking lot or a white van, but he somehow knew he could trust you. maybe it was the fans and the news casts that made him believe all Detroit native were good people, but he could certainly say he was weary about you.

“oh, a driver? my dad would be so jealous right now, he loves Indy 500– or whatever is filling up these streets.” you gesture to Woodward, closed down until the Grand Prix was done. it pissed more than half a dozen people, but you got a good view from your apartment of the circuit.

“Indy cars, actually, but you get the gist.” he heaves out a chuckle under his breath.

you take the chance to glance over at the man you were helping. your morning walk to get coffee was interrupted by a strangers confusion in his eyes, you were instantly drawn to help him.

two pieces of the mop of brown hair fall just above his eyes, the ones that lured you in. you look back over to the street when his eyes flicker to meet yours. you smell the burnt rubber, tires burning against the shitty pavement of Detroit.

“so first time here?” you ask, out of the corner of your eyes you see him nod, “yeah, actually. I was just trying to take in the city and got a little too lost.” he replies, rubbing the nape of his neck with his fingers.

he takes a look at you now, lips formed in a soft smile as the cool breeze lifts your hair off your back. you love this city, and he can tell by the wave you give to the local drivers who stop.

“who’s this? a new boyfriend?” an elder man pulls to the side of the street pointing out pato. the man knows your kindness runs too far, but seeing the McLaren shirt he knows why you’ve helped him in the first place.

“he drives, and he’s not my boyfriend.”

“I’m pato.” the man waves from behind you to the driver in the car, your dads best friend who nods, smile widening on his face.

“indeed you are my friend. good luck out there!”

you watch his car drive away, before you turn to man beside you, “pato? I like that name.” you gesture for him to continue to follow and he does, allowing you to take the lead like the last time.

“it’s short for patricio, but I don’t know your name, you know?” he looks over at you, brown eyes glimmering in the sun that begins to increase in temperature as you continue to walk.

“y/n.” you stop pointing to the barriers that begin to line the sidewalks, “and I’m afraid this is where we part ways. if you follow the path you’ll find the entrance. good luck today and tomorrow.” you point to the barriers that line the sidewalks and the stands that you see in the distance.

“what would you say to me inviting you and your dad tomorrow? you said he’s a big fan, I’d love to have him in my garage.” his offer excites you, but you know what your father would say. offering a strange man a walk throughout the city, and then an invite to the McLaren garage? he’d think you’d gotten drop kicked on the sidewalk.

“I don’t know, he’ll question why you aren’t my boyfriend—“

“then tell him I am. what’s he got to know?” he smirks watching you open and close your mouth a couple of times.

“he knows you’re pato o’ward and if I was dating pato o’ward and didn’t tell him I’d be the worst daughter ever.”

“then you’re not dating pato o’ward. you’re dating just pato. the guy you met on Woodward.”

—

“dad, this is pato. I met him on Woodward yesterday—“

your dad scoff cuts you off, and he happily shakes the drivers hand, “pato o’ward, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m impressed with your work.” he beams with excitement, a thrill that runs through the drivers body knowing he’s made somebody proud today despite his finish.

“thank you, sir. your daughter helped me out a lot yesterday.” he flashes you a wink, one that your dad doesn’t catch because he’s too busy taking in all the mechanics, cars, and other sights in the garage. you couldn’t believe pato did this for you, matter of fact, for your dad. the man who got you into racing in the first place.

“you know, you come here again I can show you around all the auto factories? y/n can show you downtown Detroit— you know what you didn’t see.”

you laugh at your dads excitement reminding him pato has better things to do. he’s got a busy schedule, and racing came first. you spent a couple of hours last night doing your research on the Indy car driver, he wasn’t interested in much else beside racing.

“dad, he wouldn’t want to come back here I’m sure—“

“there you go again, assuming you know me.” pato tsks you shaking his head, that same smirk that drove you insane all last night forms on his lips, “sir, when can I come back? I’d love to join you and y/n.”

“I like you, pato. have you ever thought about dating anyone? my y/n is perfect for you.” you watch your dad pull pato aside, arm wrapped around his shoulders as he talks highly of you.

you just roll your eyes in embarrassment watching pato look over his shoulders and send you a wink. the universe works in mysterious ways, and you can’t believe it led you to pato o’ward on Woodward, the man you can now call your boyfriend.

[ryanthedemiboy]

What are five things you wish more people knew about NASCAR?

(no pressure ofc)

This ended up being kind of long, oops.

1. Almost all races in any sport are circles. Turning in more than one direction is just as fun as just one. Seriously.

2. It's safer than f1. We haven't had a driver death in any nascar series anywhere in the world since 2009. There are so many safety features — i've spent hours talking about it to some of my friends before, it's extensive as fuck.

(This is where I stopped writing on July 13th lol oops)

3. The drama is different than what F1 seems to be. Sure, drivers occasionally have beef with each other, but usually their only beef is with nascar.

One of the major drivers in nascar, Denny Hamlin, has a podcast about nascar called Actions Detrimental. Which is named that because he's gotten fined for "actions detrimental to the sport of nascar" or whatever so many times (and presumably continues to be, since he openly criticizes nascar)

4. Michael Jordan co-owns a team with aforementioned Denny Hamlin! They're called 23XI (pronounced 23 11), and have the 23 and 45 car.

5. Nascar is set up to be an entertaining sport to watch. Yes, the goal is the best driver, but it's not set up in a way that one driver runs away with it and you know races in advance.

You don't know until the final race of the season who won.

6. While nascar isn't usually four wide like this (three wide is usually the limit except for passing), this is the type of feel for racing on several tracks. It isn't always quite this exciting, but they do often race inches apart going 160-200mph /257-322kmh (below is closer to 200mph/322kmh)

(via https://twitter.com/NASCAR/status/1844006311932956700?t=bXpkOEZU43lSK_Bc3_-4CA&s=19)

7. Michael Jordan is suing nascar for being a monopoly.

While continuing to race his cars in nascar. With one of them currently in the championships.

(Denny Hamlin and another raceteam are also part of the lawsuit, but people unfamiliar with the sport won't feel much about that)

8. These guys can't have a dozen people servicing the car on a pitstop. They get four. (Fueler, tire carrier, front tire changer, and the rear tire changer. They are also allowed a driver servicer — they remove a thing off the windshield every pitstop so the driver can see better, take their old water/gatorade bottle and give them a new one, and anything else the driver might need (occasionally a snackbar or medication))

10. Nascar is a contact sport. Nascar has explicitly said this on multiple occasions — hitting other cars is allowed as long you're not flinging them against the wall or obviously wrecking them (you can move cars by hitting them a certain way, enough that you slow them down without wrecking them. You can also make super defensive moves which are banned in open wheel racing)

11. These guys drive 3-5 hours in cars 110-140F / 43-60C while needing to focus extremely well, since they're racing inches apart at 160+ mph / 257+ kmh