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kumkaniudaku · 2 months ago

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Stay A While

Summary: Terry's back home and trying to make amends with an old friend.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

Warnings and Notes: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Or at least Terry hoped that was the case as his thumb hovered over a familiar name in his contact list. A dingey hole in the wall became a haven on the tail end of his journey back to some sense of normalcy. He was down a bike, a truck, and a piece of his heart but continued to press on until fatigue forced him to stop for rest. The owner, a small woman with a big voice noticed his rough appearance as he passed by on foot and invited him inside to duck an incoming storm. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when he repeated that he had ground to make up before nightfall.

When she asked if he needed help he politely and foolishly declined all but a glass of brown liquor and access to an outlet. That same whiskey and a sprinkle of Motown-era love songs playing on a rickety jukebox had broken a grown man down enough to reach out to the one person who might still be willing to take him in. Even if only for a night.

Searching for extra courage, Terry took another sip of lukewarm Jack Daniels before tapping his phone screen. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a short pause signaled the call had connected.

The silence on the other him was loud, forcing him to speak up first.

“Hello?”

Fading voices and shuffling in the background were the only indicators of a presence on the other line, making Terry feel embarrassed for starting a call in the first place.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, look… if now’s not a good time I ca -”

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?”

“I, uh…yeah. I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve -”

“Are you okay? It’s loud wherever you are. You good? You hurt?”

“I could tell you if you would give me a chance to answer,” he chuckled. His amusement made her kiss her teeth in annoyance. “I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but I’ve seen worse. I’m somewhere between Charlotte and home. Stopped in this spot for a drink and somewhere to sleep for the night.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

Terry took another swig of whiskey and sighed. “Nothing, really. I was hoping I could see you, though. You know, when I make it back tomorrow.”

“You staying anywhere when you get here?”

“Not yet, but I’ll find somewhere. I know how to survive.”

“TJ…,” More silence. Thick. Long. Full of tension and years of baggage that they had yet to discuss. The other voice sighed before answering. “Come on by. I’ll have the back room ready for you. You need toiletries?”

Terry’s face softened into a near smile at the invitation. “Yes ma’am. A meal would be nice, too.”

“Okay. I’ll have you something if you can get here before dark tomorrow. Please be safe, Terrence. I mean it.”

Before he could attempt to extend the conversation, the call ended, leaving her contact photo in full view. Terry allowed a slow grin to spread across his face just as a short text with her address came across the screen.

“Another round, brother?”

Terry looked up from his phone to find an expectant expression on the bartender’s face. He shook his head and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “Nah, but thanks, man. Think I’m gonna close my tab, actually. I gotta see about a bus ticket before it’s too late.”

“If you heading to her,” the man started, pointing toward Terry’s phone. “you need a cut, man. A lineup. Something. You look like what you been through. If you got $20, I can get you right.” A slight frown and knitted eyebrows in response made the bartender shoot his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want no problems, big dog. I just know what it’s like to see your lady after a hard time. Let me help you.”

A quick look into the black mirror of his cell phone screen forced Terry to reckon with his appearance. He couldn’t remember his last haircut and his mustache was starting to dwarf his upper lip. He sighed and reached into his back pocket.

“Extra $10 and you can get the face too?”

“Extra $20 and I’ll get you where you going myself.”

------

City noise had long been replaced by suburban quiet by the time Terry’s destination came into view. His friend back at the bar was true to his word and arranged transport that turned a 6-hour journey into 2 hours of UGK on the speakers, a little privacy, and AC on the hottest summer day so far.

After exchanging pleasantries and cash, Terry stepped out of the cramped Honda onto the smooth driveway pavement. Every house, street sign, and front yard looked exactly as he remembered them, bringing mixed emotions forward.

The short journey to her front step felt arduous for his tired legs, but he persisted until he was mere inches from the front door. He lifted his arms and prepared to knock but stopped short when it swung open unexpectedly.

“Knocking when I can hear those heavy feet from a mile away is courteous but unnecessary.”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand down the back of his head. “Good to see you too, Treece.”

Patrice greeted him with a half smile as she studied his appearance from toe to head. A few years and a little extra weight had done wonders. She settled on his eyes and softened her gaze. “You look good, TJ. Come in here and cool off.”

Stepping inside her home felt like walking into a time capsule. He’d spent so many after-school days and summer nights here that it felt like his childhood home not too far up the road. Photos from yesteryear lined the walls on the way to the living room where nothing had changed except new furniture and a bigger television on the TV stand. The heat from the oven mixing with a slight chill from the air conditioning unit kept the room comfortable enough to nap if he could settle for more than a few minutes.

Terry’s eyes drifted from his surroundings to Patrice as she led the way. Long braids covered the back of a high school t-shirt and jean shorts. Her brown skin had become golden under the North Carolina sun, making her glow a little in the morning light. Grown woman weight had settled onto her once thin frame, transforming her into a more of a mini version of her mother than before. All the changes he’d imagined when he had a free second were ions better in person.

Patrice gestured toward the leather recliner in the corner without speaking, inviting him to take a seat and settle in on her way to the stove.

They existed without words for a few minutes while she took fresh biscuits out of the oven and arranged them next to sausage patties and an omelet on one of her good porcelain plates. Terry trained his attention on his shoes, trying and failing to find a way to break the ice. He wanted to apologize. Confess his wrongs and desires in one grand speech designed to erase nearly ten years of absence. But the words wouldn’t form in his throat and the moment came and went.

Balancing a dinner tray in one hand and orange juice in the other, Patrice carefully made her way to his spot in the living room. Seeing her kind eyes calmed his nerves and set his chest ablaze.

“No more pork for you, right? This is chicken sausage from my Nana and them in the country.” She asked as she sat the tray on his lap.

He nodded in appreciation. “Yeah. You remembered?”

“You ain’t been gone that long, TJ. I still know who you are and what you like. That orange juice don’t have pulp in it either.”

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly before hanging his head to pray.

“Any time.”

A re-run of A Different World became the only sound in the room outside of an occasional content sigh from Terry as he tore through his breakfast. Patrice watched in amusement until her broad smile caught his attention. He slowed in embarrassment and returned the stare long enough to induce loud laughter from both of them.

“I look crazy, huh?”

“No,” she assured with a sweet smile. “You just look like you're happy to be back home, is all. Fayetteville missed you.”

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?”

“Don’t start, TJ.”

“I’m only asking a question.” He answered without making eye contact. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that?”

“What? TJ? That’s your name.”

“Yeah, but…you know. It’s not 2010 anymore.”

Patrice shrugged and settled deeper into the couch. “Considering that’s about the last time I saw you in the flesh, I guess it stuck for me. But, I can call you Terrence if you like.”

“Nah, TJ’s good. I like it. From you…specifically.”

The pair exchanged equally bashful looks, both too shy to say anything that would incriminate themselves. Instead, they watched the television in silence and stole looks until a commercial break took away their distraction.

Without speaking, Terry began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Patrice to rush over before he could move too far.

“Treece, I can do it.”

“I know,” she answered in a sing-song voice while sliding the tray from his grasp. “But I haven’t done this for you in a while. Let me love on you a little bit.”

His eyes tracked her every move until she was behind him at the kitchen sink. Boyish nervousness made him twiddle his thumbs until words came rushing out like water from a burst pipe as he sat back down.

“So, how you doing? How you been?”

“I’ve been okay. Mostly work and no play, you know. Thankful to be out of that classroom for a few weeks and get some peace.”

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?”

“Baby, the kids, their parents, and my parents are driving me to drink,” she laughed. “I can’t catch a break.”

“What about your man? He driving you crazy?”

Patrice scoffed and shook her head. Her mama and his mama talked too much. Terry chewed his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t offend.

“We…aren’t together anymore. Hard to build a family together when he’s off building one across town.”

Terry craned his neck around the armchair to make sympathetic eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part. I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s alright. I gave it to God a long time ago. Maybe I’m not meant to be anybody’s wife yet.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be his wife.”

“Well, it’s not like any suitors are knocking down my door for my hand in marriage.”

“Probably because you keep swinging it open before anybody gets a chance.”

Patrice rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger in Terry’s direction. “Ha-ha. I see you didn’t lose your jokes at Lejeune. Only your ability to keep in touch.”

Her retort left a shallow cut in Terry’s ego, making him turn his attention back to the television. He knew he’d broken a decades-old promise and that atoning for his sins would take time. But he also knew that, at any moment, Patrice could send him back into the world with nothing more than a full belly and a swift kick in the ass. He had to tread lightly.

Taking the lull in conversation as his opportunity to lick his wounds in private, Terry stood and gathered his belongings in both hands. Patrice watched him from her spot with an apologetic expression.

“You don’t have to leave. Got a couple errands to run so it’ll be quiet in here. Take the whole couch if you want.”

“That’s alright, but thank you. Figure I can make myself useful and cut the yard. Maybe unpack some of this stuff if that’s alright with you. You got a mower?”

“Yeah, it’s back there,” she answered, gesturing toward the backyard with her head. “Will you be here when I get back?”

Sensing the hidden motivation behind her question, Terry dropped his bag to the ground and made his way into the kitchen. Cautiously, he leaned down to press a short kiss to Patrice’s forehead before using his index finger to tilt her head upward and meet his eyeline. “Yes. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Her eyes fluttered closed for a half second while she nodded her understanding. A wave of relief made the hair on her arms stand at attention but she quickly bit back any urge to engage further.

“You looked tired when you got in,” Patrice started, turning her back to Terry to conceal her flustered face. “I cleared Junior’s old bed back there. It’s a little small but sturdy. The sheets are fresh. Let me know if you need more blankets. I like it cold at night.”

“I’ll survive, girl. I’ve slept in worse places than a full-sized bed. Thank you.”

A split second of hesitation kept their eyes glued to one another until Terry ended the stalemate by backing out of the room and disappearing down the hallway.

Patrice took his absence as an opportunity to compose herself. Busy hands and racing thoughts fueled a cleaning marathon until tasks that had long fallen to the bottom of her to-do list were crossed off.

For hours they co-existed without many words exchanged. Occasionally, Patrice would steal glances at Terry while he meticulously tended to the lawn and bushes. When he could, Terry made a point to brush up against her when he walked past and agree with each of her many suggestions. Being in her space was enough for him and he dared not upset the natural harmony.

By the time dinner rolled around, they had found a groove. A quiet dinner led to an even quieter cleanup shift and quick good nights exchanged after watching Jeopardy together.

Terry left Patrice to her own devices while he fought to acclimate to such cushy surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn’t get used to the soft mattress below him or the near-frigid temperature in the house. Tossing and turning left him unsatisfied. The walls felt like they were converging. Flashbacks were turning into night sweats. He needed to escape.

Slowly, he slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers Patrice had gifted him earlier in the day. Measured steps help him sneak past her bed bedroom, out of the back door, and down into the backyard without causing a disturbance.

The early June air was balmy, clinging to the skin beneath his t-shirt. In the distance loud bass from someone’s car speaker vibrated until it was out of earshot. Dogs barked and howled to salute the moon worked in tandem with the faint smell of charcoal cooling from a night of backyard barbecues to remind him that he was far from the trouble of Shelby Springs.

It’d been a while since he could enjoy the night without being on high alert. The last week was a special kind of hell that he feared he could never shake. The urge to flee was beginning to creep in like the tide, threatening to wash away what little progress he’d made.

After a few deep breaths and mumbled prayer, Terry retreated to a porch swing to rest his weary legs. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his backside met the aged oak and, almost instantly, he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One deep breath turned into another until he was drifting into his first peaceful sleep in weeks.

Minutes passed like seconds. Thoughts slowed to a halt. His heartbeat regulated. Near bliss was upon him.

Inside, a single lamp flipped on to illuminate Patrice’s path as she searched the house for her guest. His room and bathroom had turned up empty results with almost no sign that he’d been there throughout the day. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen raiding the fridge like she half expected. Worry had all but made her pass out until she heard the slight creak of her swing on the porch, making his head appear and disappear from the window above the sink.

She couldn’t fully open the door before Terry opened one eye and looked in her direction. She froze and he smiled.

“Feet not as heavy as you thought, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah. If I’d known you trade in a bed for this old thing I wouldn’t have wasted my time on laundry.”

“Hey, I built this old thing, remember?”

Patrice chuckled at the memory and pointed at the metal chain keeping the swing in place. “Damn near lost a finger behind it, too.”

“Would’ve been worth it knowing you were happy.” Patrice nervously shifted her weight from left to right under Terry’s intense gaze while he took his turn to look her over. Finally noticing her awkwardly standing between the screendoor, he motioned to the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second.”

Patrice visibly wrestled with her decision but ultimately joined him. They maintained a careful distance, being sure to keep their individual limbs from connecting for fear that the mere sensation would set them ablaze. They played a childish game of cat and mouse until Patrice spoke.

“I was rude earlier,” Patrice confessed while fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Terry closed his heavy eyes to cure the burning sensation growing by the minute but acknowledged her statement with a confused grunt. She continued. “I never asked how you were doing. The whole thing about my ex sort of brought up old feelings.”

He frowned, hurt by her revelation. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?”

“You never are. Same ol’ honorable TJ. Terry, I mean.”

“TJ for you.”

Again he popped one eye open and paired it with a grin that disamered Patrice and made her giggle like her high school self. The sound had him resolve that he’d spend his whole life making stupid faces if it meant she’d get some joy from them.

“You ready to tell me everything I missed or are you content with popping up on my porch? And how long do you plan to be here eating all my food, anyway?”

“I don’t think you wanna hear that,” he answered in an attempt to dodge the loaded question. Patrice persisted.

“No, I do. I see the tattoos and the fresh haircut. TJ turned into a man while he was gone. At least let me get to know this new person.”

“I grew up,” he sighed after some time. “Gained some. Lost a lot. Still trying to pick up the pieces.”

“What’d you lose?”

“Lately? Money. Family. Shit, my mind.”

“Why?”

“Mike died.” An abrupt interruption of an already complicated conversation brought forth a long pause. He waited for an interjection but found none, prompting him to offer more details. “He was killed. In jail. I tried to get him out and bring him home but I was too late.” Terry answered without making eye contact. Shame wouldn’t allow him to meet her potential judgment.

Patrice mentally cycled through names and faces until she realized the gravity of Terry’s statement. She reached out to breach their unspoken barrier and grabbed his hand which he accepted with no pushback.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he answered before squeezing her hand and finally returning her eye contact. “I handled everything. It’s over for now. I’m here with you. We can focus on that.”

“Even though you keep skipping how long you’ll stay.”

Patrice’s warmth was starting to take a backseat to her cold nature. Old wounds had started to re-open and rebuild a wall they both thought they’d successfully hurdled. Despite her attempt to pull her hand out of his grasp, Terry stayed put. He eyed her for a moment, picking up on a thin veil of tears threatening to form at her water line.

She watched his normally steely blue-gray eyes soften into something that mirrored the softness he carried when they were kids. She couldn’t find the gumption to look away as he brought her knuckles up to his lips for a set of short kisses before looking back up at her. Pleading. Begging for any indication that she had softened her heart toward him.

“Treecey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. You meant more to me than the way I left and I pray every day for a chance to make it right. We crossed a line that night and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t handle that like a man should have. I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.”

Sincerity was thick in his voice despite his low, even tone.

Patrice listened without a word. A single tear cascaded down her face despite her valiant attempts to keep her emotions at bay. She swore she’d never cry about Terrence Richmond again. But old habits die hard.

Terry used his free hand to swipe away that tear and the next one sitting at her lower lash line with the pad of his thumb.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Tell me you hate me.”

“You know I don’t hate you,” she whispered, too choked up to continue without a deep breath. “I…I just feel like you took a piece of me with you, you know? And you never wrote back. You never called. You shut me out like we were never friends. We could’ve gone back to how things were.”

“I fucked that up.”

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t mean that I trust you won’t do it again. No matter how much I don’t hate you, I’m not eighteen anymore. My patience is thin. I can’t allow you to turn my world upside down again.”

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yeah. I hope so.” Though she whispered, Patrice’s words sliced through Terry like a hot knife through butter.

He hung his head in defeat as she pulled her hand from his grasp and made quick work of standing from the bench. Her footsteps retreated past him and to the back door until she paused.

He looked over his shoulder to find her eyes closed and chin pointed to the sky in contemplative silence. This was it. The final blow.

She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “Stay as long as you want. Junior’s living with his girlfriend now, so nobody’s coming to make you leave. Tomorrow, we can go get you some new clothes. I’m tired of looking at those raggedy t-shirts already.”

Terry took her jab in stride and gave her a half smile as a sign of compliance. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

“Mhm. Lock the door behind you when you come in.”

“Good night, Treecey.” His farewell came in an annoyingly sweet voice as a last-ditch effort to drag some loving words from her. Patrice stopped and gave him one more once over and a dismissive eye roll.

He waited for the ghost of a smile that disappeared before he could blink. She shook her head and took a step inside the house.

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.”

Terry hid his amusement until she was out of sight, leaving him alone to grin at how even her rebukes felt like love letters.

“Shut up,” he repeated to himself as he closed his eyes to doze again. “Hm. I’ll take it.”

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

#terry richmond #terry richmond x oc #rebel ridge #aaron pierre

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flwrstqr · 4 months ago

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𓈃 ★ PRINCESS DIAIRIES | PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis you are a shy, awkward teenager living with your artist mother. your life is turned upside down when you discover you are the heir to the throne of genovia. at first, you're reluctant to accept your new identity. as you face challenges at school, with the media, and within yourself, you struggle to balance your normal life with your royal duties. sunghoon, who has secretly liked you for a long time, finds himself falling even more for you as he sees you grow into your new role. as you navigate your new life, you and sunghoon grow closer, sharing quiet moments and, most importantly, falling in love.

word count 6.8k+

meet the cast best friend's brother!sunghoon x quiet kid/princess!fem reader (feat haneul from kiss of life + other ocs)

genre high school au, royal au, angst, fluff, romance, best friend brother au, unpopular to popular, crack, princess diaries based

warnings swearing, kissing, small grammar errors, everyone being mean to yn at first, some annoying characters, mentions barfing, yn being played by a boy at one point, some second hand embarrassment scene 😓,

danielle's note 𖥔 so i just watched like princess diaries yesterday and i ended up falling in love with it so i wanted to write a long ass au for this. plus like i had to cook up a good plot so 😈 sorry if this is ass but anyways i hope u guys enjoy this (this fic is for my fav hoon stan ><)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀good luck babe by chappell roan, feather by sabrina carpenter, saturn by sza, i love you so by the walters, obsessed by olivia rodrigo, xo by enhypen, break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

YOU WAKE UP TO THE SOFT CHIMES OF YOUR ALARM, gradually getting louder until you reach over and silence it. You fumble for your glasses on the bedside table. Once they're on, the world comes into focus: your room adorned with vibrant art pieces that was made by your mother.

You stretch and get out of bed, your feet touching the cool floor. Your school uniform is laid out neatly on the chair by your desk: a skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer. You put on the uniform, the fabric feeling stiff but familiar. As you stand in front of the mirror, you run a brush quickly through your hair. Makeup isn’t part of your routine; you prefer to keep things simple.

Heading downstairs, you hear the familiar sounds of your mom humming along to music in her studio. You grab your backpack from the hook by the door and slip on your shoes. The house smells of fresh paint and coffee, a comforting mix you've grown up with.

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart! Also, don't be nervous during the speech!” your mom calls from her studio, not looking up from her canvas.

“Thanks, Mom. I will,” you reply softly, even though she can't see you.

Stepping outside, the morning air is cool and crisp. You take a deep breath, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, and start walking to school. You keep your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

YOU ARRIVE AT SCHOOL, spotting Haneul leaning against the bike racks, her face lighting up as she sees you. She's waving enthusiastically, and you can’t help but smile back. Haneul, like you, is considered one of the "losers," known for being a "nerd." But she’s your best friend, and that label doesn’t bother either of you much.

“Hey,” you greet her, adjusting your backpack.

“Morning! Ready for another thrilling day of high school?” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

You both laugh and start walking towards your first class. As usual, you pass the popular girls, Eunae and her two "minions", who are gossiping loudly by their lockers. Your eyes dart towards your crush, Siwoo, who’s with them. His blonde hair is always perfectly styled, falling just above his eyebrows in a way that frames his sharp, expressive eyes. Those eyes, a deep shade of brown, seem to hold a confident, almost teasing glint. His smile is captivating, often described as a blend of boyish charm and genuine warmth, making him instantly likable to many (such as you). Your heart sinks as you see him kissing Eunae. You roll your eyes, trying to forget it.

“Ugh, seriously?” Haneul mutters, noticing the scene as well. “She’s so fake.”

You nod in agreement, but your attention shifts as you catch sight of Sunghoon, Haneul’s older brother, standing nearby. His dark hair, slightly tousled, falls naturally around his face. His eyes, a striking shade of hazel, are often focused.

You give him a small wave. Sunghoon notices and waves back, his smile warm and genuine. The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Haneul says, tugging at your sleeve.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you reply, falling into step beside her as you make your way to class.

CLASS TIME BEGINS, and your heart races as you try to focus on the lesson. When Siwoo stands up to give his speech, you can't help but be mesmerized. His blonde hair is perfect, shining under the classroom lights, and his confidence radiates as he speaks. You know Siwoo isn’t the brightest student, more of an athlete than an academic, but that doesn’t matter to you. He’s cute, and that’s enough.

As he finishes his speech, Eunae and her two friends erupt into loud cheers, their high-pitched voices echoing in the room. You roll your eyes internally but feel a pang of nervousness as you realize your turn is coming up. Public speaking has always been your weak point.

When your name is called, you stand up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Your legs feel like jelly as you walk to the podium, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear Eunae giggling with her friends, and it only heightens your anxiety.

"Look who's next," Eunae whispers loudly to her friends, making sure you hear.

You take a deep breath and start your speech, but the words come out in a stutter. "S-so..."

You push up your glasses, hoping it will give you some confidence, but it only makes things worse. The giggles turn into outright laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your stomach churns, making you feel like you’re going to be sick.

"Oh my God, she can't even talk properly," Eunae says, loud enough for the whole class to hear. More laughter follows her comment.

In the far corner of the room, you notice Sunghoon watching. His eyes are calm, and there's a hint of concern in his expression You feel like you're about to barf and, in a panic, you rush out of the classroom. The laughter follows you, echoing in your ears.

Once outside, you lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Tears prick at your eyes as the embarrassment washes over you. You feel utterly defeated, wishing you could just disappear. You were always the invisible one, what should you expect?

AFTER SCHOOL, you walk home, the events of the day replaying in your mind. When you step inside, the familiar smell of your mom's cooking greets you. You head to the kitchen, where she’s stirring something on the stove.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says, looking up with a concerned expression. "I heard you barfed in class today. Are you okay?"

You sigh, dropping your backpack on the floor. "Yeah, it was just… really embarrassing."

Your mom walks over and gives you a comforting hug. "I'm sorry that happened. Kids can be really mean sometimes."

You nod, feeling a bit better with her support. "Thanks, Mom."

She pulls back and looks at you seriously. "There’s something I need to tell you. Your grandmother is coming over for tea next week."

You look at her, confused. "Grandmother? But we never talk to her."

"I know," your mom says, her tone softening. "This is the first time we’re going to meet her. She’s your father's mother. After your father passed away a few months ago, she reached out. She said she wanted to speak with you specifically."

You blink in surprise. "Me? Why me?"

"I don’t know," your mom admits. "But I think it’s important to hear her out. She might have something to share that’s meaningful to you."

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Okay. I’ll talk to her."

Your mom gives you a reassuring smile. "It’ll be fine." You nod, trying to push aside any other thoughts on your mind.

YOU WALK INTO THE CAR MOTOR PLACE, the familiar scent of oil and rubber filling the air. Your heart races as you see your Mustang in the garage, a little closer to the dream car you’ve been saving up for. It still needs a lot of work, but you’re determined to have it ready for your 17th birthday.

As you approach the car, you hear the final notes of a performance. Sunghoon finishes his set and the crowd disperses, girls whispering excitedly about how hot he is. But he pays them no mind. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his eyes lighting up with a genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, his voice smooth and warm. "Checking on the car?"

You nod, unable to help but smile back. "Yeah, it's coming along slowly but surely."

He glances at the Mustang, then back at you. "It's going to look amazing when it's done. You've been saving it up for a while,"

You blush at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Thanks, Sunghoon."

His smile widens, and he leans a bit closer. "If you need any help with the car, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

"Really? That would be amazing," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer.

Sunghoon's eyes twinkle "Anything for you," he says softly, before giving you one last smile.

YOU STAND AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE GRAND MANSION, your eyes wide with awe. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion are overwhelming. Fancy maids and butlers bustle around. You clutch your cheap, simple backpack, a gift from your mother three years ago, and adjust your school uniform nervously. Your hair is a bit messy, and your glasses keep slipping down your nose.

As you step inside, the grandeur of the place hits you like a tidal wave. The floors are polished to a gleaming shine, intricate chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, and every piece of furniture looks like it belongs in a museum. You can't help but feel out of place, a small figure in this space.

Just then, you hear the soft click of heels on the marble floor. You look up to see her, your grandmother, a woman you've never met before. She descends the grand staircase with an air of grace and authority, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. She's dressed in an elegant gown, a deep shade of blue that compliments her dignified demeanor. In contrast, you feel even more self-conscious about your plain school uniform.

"Hello, dear," she greets you with a refined smile. Her voice is smooth and cultured, a stark contrast to your own uncertain tone. You mumble a shy greeting in return, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, sit," she says, gesturing to a plush armchair near the grand fireplace. You sit down cautiously, feeling the softness of the cushion beneath you. A maid approaches and places a delicate china teacup in front of you, the steam rising in gentle curls.

Your grandmother takes a seat across from you. She reaches into a small velvet box and retrieves a necklace and charm, the gold catching the light in a mesmerizing way. "Here's a gift," she says, handing it to you, "has been passed down through our family for generations."

You take the necklace. The charm is intricate, a tiny masterpiece that speaks of history and legacy. You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. You play around with it nervously as your grandmother eyes you quietly.

As you sip your tea, you can't help but make a bit of noise, your lack of manners showing. Your grandmother eyes you critically but says nothing about your manners. Instead, she clears her throat, the sound resonating in the quiet room.

"I have some news for you," she announces, her tone serious and measured.

You stop stirring your tea and look up, pushing your glasses up your nose in a nervous habit. "What is it?" you ask, curious.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You are the Princess of Genovia."

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. You choke on your tea, coughing violently as you try to process her words. "What?" you exclaim.

She nods, her expression grave. "Your father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes you the next heir."

"No, no way," you stammer, shaking your head, "I'm just… an invisible me. There's no way I'm a princess."

Your grandmother's gaze softens slightly, "It's true, my dear. Your father never had the chance to tell you, but this is your birthright."

The weight of her words presses down on you, a crushing force that makes it hard to breathe. Your life, once simple and predictable, has been changed.

"No," you whisper, your voice trembling. "This can't be happening."

Your grandmother is about to explain further, her lips parting to speak, but the overwhelming reality hits you like a freight train. You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that echoes in the grand room. "I need to go," you say, your voice breaking.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and rush out of the mansion, your footsteps echoing in the vast hallway. you push the door open, the bright sunlight outside momentarily blinding you. You stumble down the steps.

You walk quickly, almost running, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the mansion as possible. How can this be real? How can you, an quiet girl with a simple life, be a princess? You are the Princess of Genovia. And your life will never be the same again.

THE NEXT DAY, the reality of the previous day’s still hangs heavily over you. You can hardly focus on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the shocking news. You try to go about your usual routine, but everything feels different, surreal.

As you sit at the kitchen table, pushing your breakfast around your plate, you hear a knock at the door. Your mother goes to answer it, and you strain to hear the conversation. Your heart skips a beat when you hear your grandmother’s voice.

“Hello, my dear,” she greets your mother politely. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” your mother replies, sounding a bit nervous.

They walk into the kitchen together, and your grandmother’s presence fills the small room. She’s dressed impeccably, her elegance stark against the worn, cozy surroundings of your home.

“Good morning,” she says to you with a gentle smile. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better today.”

You manage a nod, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You notice your mother looks anxious, avoiding your gaze.

“Please, have a seat,” your mother offers, gesturing to a chair. Your grandmother sits gracefully, folding her hands in her lap.

“Yesterday was overwhelming, I know,” your grandmother begins, her tone soft but firm. “But we need to talk more about this. There are important things you need to understand.”

You remain silent, feeling a mix of resentment and curiosity.

“There’s a royal ball in two months,” she continues. “It’s an important event where you’ll be formally introduced as the Princess of Genovia. It’s crucial for our country and for you.”

Your mother takes a deep breath, finally looking at you. “I know this is a lot to take in,” she says. “I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to have a normal life.”

You feel a surge of frustration. “You knew? All this time?” you ask, your voice shaking.

Your mother nods, her eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry, honey. I thought it was for the best.”

Your grandmother reaches out, placing a hand on yours. “I understand that this is a lot to accept. But you have a duty, a responsibility to your heritage. This is your birthright.”

You pull your hand back, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a normal girl. I don’t know anything about being a princess.”

Your grandmother’s expression softens. “You may feel that way now, but you have the potential to be a great leader. We will help you every step of the way. You won’t be alone in this.”

Your mother’s eyes plead with you. “Please, sweetheart. Give it a chance. We’ll support you in any way we can.”

You sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of their words pressing down on you. The idea of being a princess, attending a royal ball, and stepping into a completely different world feels terrifying. But there’s a small part of you that’s curious, that wonders what it would be like to be this new identity.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you say reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

A FEW DAYS LATER, the sun casts a warm glow over your grandmother’s mansion as you arrive. You clutch your simple backpack, feeling out of place yet again as you step into the grand foyer. Your grandmother greets you with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Today’s the day,” she says, leading you to a large room filled with mirrors and high-end beauty products. “I’ve arranged for the best stylists to give you a makeover. They’ll help you look the part of a princess.”

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As you take a seat, a team of stylists and beauticians file into the room, each one carrying various tools and products. They begin their work, chatting amiably as they discuss your transformation.

For nearly four hours, you sit patiently as they work their magic. Your hair is trimmed and styled into a sleek, elegant look that frames your face perfectly. Your eyebrows are shaped, making your eyes look bigger and more defined. They remove your glasses and fit you with contact lenses, giving you a clearer view of the world without the barrier of frames.

As they finish up, you catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at you. Your skin glows, your features are more defined, and you look… different. Beautiful, even.

Just then, your grandmother walks back into the room. She pauses mid-step, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in your transformation. You stand up and turn to face her, feeling a rush of nerves.

“Oh my,” she breathes, her voice filled with awe. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms, stepping closer to take a better look. “Your hair, your eyes, everything… You look like a true princess.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. The stylists beam with pride, knowing they’ve done an excellent job.

Your grandmother reaches out to gently touch your hair. “This is just the beginning, my dear.”

As you walk through the grand halls of the mansion, you feel different. Lighter. More confident. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a large, ornate mirror as you pass by, and for the first time, you see not just a girl, but a princess.

THE NEXT DAY, YOU SIT NERVOUSLY IN THE BACK OF THE LIMO, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. You’ve been riding in this luxurious vehicle for a few days now, but it still feels surreal. The thought of people judging you for your sudden change in appearance and status makes your stomach churn. Today, you’re picking up Haneul and Sunghoon.

As the limo pulls up in front of their house, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The driver opens the door, and Sunghoon steps inside. His jaw drops as he sees you, his eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N… you look…” He’s completely speechless, his gaze fixed on you.

Before he can finish his sentence, Haneul appears, her voice breaking the silence. “Sunghoon, get in already—” Her words trail off as she sees you, her eyes widening in surprise.

Sunghoon finally finds his voice. “You look amazing,” he says, blush creeping up his cheek.

Haneul, on the other hand, doesn’t share his enthusiasm. She crosses her arms, her expression turning sour. “So, what’s the deal? You get a makeover and now you’re one of those popular girls who’ll ditch us?”

Your heart sinks at her words. “Haneul, it’s not like that…”

“It sure seems like it,” she snaps, her voice filled with hurt. “You think you’re better than us now?”

Sunghoon, sensing the tension, tries to intervene. “Haneul, that’s not fair. Let’s hear her out.”

You feel a mix of frustration and sadness. “I haven’t changed on the inside. I’m still me. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

The limo moves closer to the school, and you feel the pressure mounting. “I can’t explain it all right now, but you need to trust me.”

As the limo approaches the school, you grab a hat from your bag and put it on, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention. You quickly get out of the car, pulling Haneul aside while Sunghoon steps out slowly, still in shock.

“Haneul, listen,” you whisper urgently, glancing around to make sure no one is overhearing. “I need to tell you something. Please, just hear me out.”

Haneul crosses her arms, still looking skeptical but nods for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice even further. “I’m a princess. The Princess of Genovia.”

“What?” Haneul whispers, her anger dissipating into surprise.

“It’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “I found out a few days ago. My grandmother told me. My father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes me the next heir.”

Haneul’s expression softens as she processes your words. “Really?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder. “You’re a real princess?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yes. And it’s been overwhelming. I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

Haneul’s face breaks into a smile, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Why didn’t you just say so? That’s amazing! I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

"I'm sorry, I couldn't tell anyone." I say, shrugging.

Haneul giggles. “So, does this mean we get to visit a castle?”

You laugh, “Maybe one day. But for now, I need you both to keep this a secret.”

Haneul nods “Absolutely. My lips are sealed.”

YOU SIT IN CLASS, your hat pulled low to avoid drawing attention. Your fingers tap nervously on your desk as you try to focus on your work. The day has already been overwhelming, and the last thing you want is more eyes on you. But as the class progresses, you hear a familiar, smug voice from across the room.

“Sir, Y/N is wearing a hat, and I think that’s against the school dress code,” Eunae says, a smirk playing on her lips.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the class turns to look at you. The teacher glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well, that is true,” he says, his tone regretful but firm. “Y/N, unfortunately, you have to take your hat off.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach up and slowly remove your hat, letting your hair cascade down your back. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable laughter or teasing. Instead, you hear a murmur of whispers filling the room.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re so pretty! Can we be friends?” one girl exclaims.

“Your hair is gorgeous!” another student adds, their tone filled with genuine admiration.

You look up, seeing the mean girls from your class suddenly smiling at you, their previous disdain replaced with a strange, almost predatory friendliness.

“I think it’s a wig,” someone whispers, a hint of skepticism in their voice.

Before the whispers can escalate, Haneul’s voice cuts through the noise. “I think her hair is gorgeous,” she says loudly, her tone firm and supportive. “But let’s get back to class. We have more important things to focus on.”

Her words have the desired effect, and the classroom falls silent. The teacher nods approvingly and returns to the lesson. You glance at Haneul, gratitude evident in your eyes. She gives you a reassuring smile, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

YOU'RE WALKING TO SCHOOL ON AC RISP MORNING. Sunghoon is beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform.

"So, YN," Sunghoon begins, his tone casual, but there's a hint of something more beneath it. "Do you have any plans for Saturday?"

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment, then looks at you with a mix of hope and excitement. "Well, my band is performing at this new place downtown. It's kind of a big deal for us, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

You stop walking, "Really? That sounds amazing! I'd love to come."

A grin spreads across Sunghoon's face, and he looks relieved. "Great! It starts at seven. I'll send you all the details later." As you start walking again, the conversation shifts back to lighter topic.

"You know," you say after a while, "I've always wanted to see you perform. This is going to be so cool."

Sunghoon chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm glad you're excited. It means a lot to me that you'll be there."

When you reach the school gates, Sunghoon turns to you, "Thanks, YN. For coming on Saturday. I know it's going to be awesome with you there."

You smile, giving him a gentle nudge. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you later,"

A FEW DAYS PASS, and you're walking through the bustling school courtyard, lost in thought about what you might wear on Saturday, when you hear someone call your name.

You turn around to see Siwoo, the school's star athlete and the crush you've harbored for as long as you can remember. He's walking toward you with that effortless confidence that always makes your heart race. The chatter around you seems to fade as he gets closer, and you can feel a rush of butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, YN," Siwoo says, his voice smooth and casual. "Got a minute?"

You nod, trying to keep your cool. "Sure, what's up?"

Siwoo runs a hand through his hair, looking almost bashful for a moment. "So, I broke up with Eunae."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Eunae, the queen bee of the school and someone who has made your life particularly difficult, is no longer with Siwoo? You can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. "Oh, wow. I didn't know."

Siwoo shrugs, his usual smirk returning. "Yeah, it just wasn't working out. Anyway, there's this beach party on Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Your heart nearly stops. Is this really happening? You, the one who has always admired him from afar, being asked to a party by Siwoo? Without hesitation, you blurt out, "Oh my god? Yes?"

Siwoo's smirk widens, and he gives you a wink. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

As he walks away, you can't help but watch him go, your mind spinning. The butterflies in your stomach are in full force now, and you feel like you're floating. You finally manage to turn around and head to your next class, but your thoughts are excitement and disbelief.

For the rest of the day, you can't focus on anything. You keep replaying the moment in your mind, wondering if it was all a dream. But no, it was real, and now you have plans for Saturday with Siwoo.

YOU STEP OUT OF THE LIMO, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, ready to face another day of classes and the usual high school chaos. But today, something feels off.

Suddenly, there's a commotion. A crowd of photographers and reporters seem to materialize out of nowhere, cameras flashing and microphones thrust towards you.

"Is it true you're the princess of Genovia?"

"How long have you known?"

"What's your next step as royalty?"

You stand there, stunned and overwhelmed. Your heart races as the realization dawns on you: the secret is out. You glance around frantically and spot Haneul, your best friend and the only person you trusted with the truth. Her eyes are wide with shock, and you can't help but wonder if she was the one who let it slip.

Everyone around you is whispering, their curious and excited gazes fixed on you. Some are even reaching out, asking for your autograph.

Before you can fully process what's happening, you're gently but firmly guided through the crowd by school security and pushed towards the principal's office.

You sit in the chair, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts and questions. Moments later, the door opens, and your grandmother strides in.

"YN," she says, her tone calm but serious. "We need to discuss the next steps for you. I've already spoken to the principal about the necessary procedures to ensure your safety and academic success."

You nod, still in a daze. "What's going to happen now?"

She sits down beside you, her expression softening slightly. "Things will change, my dear. There will be more security, and certain aspects of your education will need to be adjusted to accommodate your new responsibilities. But don't worry, we'll handle this together."

The principal enters, looking a bit flustered but maintaining a professional demeanor. "We've arranged for additional security measures starting today. Also, your schedule will be slightly adjusted."

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb everything.

THE SUN IS SETTING OVER THE BEACH, casting a warm golden glow across the sand. The beach party is in full swing, with music playing and laughter filling the air. You’re sitting with Siwoo by a bonfire, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze and the warmth of his presence. He’s been attentive all evening, and you can hardly believe that you're here with him, the guy you’ve admired for so long.

He leans in closer, his voice low. "I'm really glad you came tonight, YN."

You smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Me too, Siwoo."

Just as the moment seems perfect, a sudden burst of light blinds you. You blink, confused, as you realize it’s the flash of a camera. Then another, and another. You look around and see a swarm of paparazzi emerging from the shadows, their cameras aimed directly at you.

"Princess YN, over here!"

"How does it feel to be the princess of Genovia?"

The questions come rapid-fire, and the crowd presses closer. Panic sets in as you realize your private moment is being invaded. You look at Siwoo, who seems just as stunned as you are.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he says, grabbing your hand.

You run together, dodging through the throng of people and flashing cameras. He leads you to a small beach shed and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

Siwoo looks at you, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect this."

He steps closer, his gaze intense. "Neither did I. But, YN, there's something I've wanted to do all night."

He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But something feels off. The reality of your situation crashes down on you. This isn’t how you imagined it, not surrounded by paparazzi and hiding in a shed.

You try to pull away, but Siwoo's grip tightens slightly.

Just as you're about to push him away, the door of the shed creaks open slightly, and the flash of a camera captures the moment. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks. This was all a setup. Siwoo purposely kissed you in front of the cameras.

"I can't do this," you say, your voice trembling as you push your way out. "I'm sorry."

Before he can respond, you slip out of the shed, the flashes blinding you once again. You hear the paparazzi shouting and the clicks of their cameras, but all you can think about is getting away. You run down the beach, tears stinging your eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING, you pick up the newspaper on your doorstep and your heart drops at the front-page headline:

THE DAILY BUZZ

PRINCESS OF GENOVIA HAS A BOYFRIEND?

Photos of the Princess in a Beach Scandal

Your stomach churns as you see the photos of Siwoo kissing you splashed across the front page. The headline is bold, the images intrusive and unmissable. The story details the scandal that erupted at the beach party, with paparazzi capturing every moment of your private exchange.

You arrive at school, clutching the newspaper in your hand. Whispers follow you through the halls, eyes lingering on you with curiosity and judgment. You can hear snippets of conversations as you pass by.

"Did you see the photos? I can't believe it's true!"

"She's really the princess of Genovia, and now she's got a boyfriend?"

The words sting, but what hurts more is the realization you have yet to face: Sunghoon. You had forgotten about the whole performance on Saturday. You scan the hallway and finally spot him by his locker, his face buried in a book. As you approach, he looks up, and your heart sinks further. His eyes are cold, filled with disappointment and hurt.

"Sunghoon," you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "I—"

But before you can continue, the bell rings, echoing through the corridor. You glance at the clock, realizing you have to get to your private class. You want to stay and explain, to apologize, but you know you can’t afford to be late.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, but Sunghoon has already turned away.

YOU RETREAT TO YOUR ROOM, hoping for some quiet time. Hours pass as you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in your mind—the paparazzi, the headlines, Sunghoon's hurt expression.

As the night deepens, a realization slowly dawns on you, one that sends a jolt through your heart. You don't have feelings for Siwoo. The excitement and attraction were all lies, fueled by the thrill of being noticed by someone so popular. But when you think about Sunghoon, it's different. You remember all the moments you've shared, the way he makes you laugh, the way he genuinely cares about you.

Sitting up, you take a deep breath. It’s Sunghoon. It’s always been Sunghoon.

YOU PACE AROUND YOUR LIVING ROOM, your heart heavy with the weight of the misunderstanding. Mustering the courage, you pick up the phone and call him.

"Hey, can you come over? I really need to talk to you," you ask softly.

There's a pause on the other end before Sunghoon finally agrees.

When he arrives, he looks weary, the pain still evident in his eyes. You take a deep breath and begin, "Sunghoon, I'm so sorry. I need to explain what happened. Siwoo was using me, and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I didn't meant to skip your band performance."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I… I believe you."

"I know, and I'm so sorry," you repeat, your voice earnest. After a moment, you look at him, your heart pounding. "There's something else. Can you come to the ball with me? It's the Genovia Special Ball, and I want you to come with me."

Sunghoon looks at you, surprised. "What?"

You smile a little and repeat yourself, "Will you come with me to the ball?"

After a few moments, he nods slowly. "Okay, I'll go."

THE DAY OF THE GRAND BALL HAD FINALLY ARRIVED, but instead of excitement, you were overwhelmed with stress. Your grandmother was incredibly upset about the whole situation, her stern words echoing in your mind. The pressure of becoming a princess was suffocating, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to run off.

As you hurriedly packed your things, you noticed a letter on your desk. With trembling hands, you opened it and began to read.

"Dearest Y/N,

If you’re reading this, it means the time has come for you to embrace your destiny. I know it seems daunting, but remember, you are stronger than you think. You have the heart of a lion and the grace of a swan. Being a princess isn’t about perfection; it’s about kindness, courage, and love. I believe in you, and I know you will make me proud. Trust yourself, and remember, you are never alone.

With all my love, Dad"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his words. You realized, you couldn't run away from reality and you had to face it.

Meanwhile, at the ball, Sunghoon was waiting anxiously. He felt betrayed and worried as you hadn't shown up yet. Your grandmother, too, was nervous, glancing at the door every few minutes, hoping you would walk through.

Sunghoon paced near the entrance, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He felt a pang of hurt, thinking you had left him again.

Your grandmother, regal yet tense, addressed the crowd with a forced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. My granddaughter will be joining us shortly."

Determined, you dashed out into the pouring rain, hailing a taxi to the grand party. The rain soaked through your dress, but you didn’t care. You arrived, drenched from head to toe, but your resolve was unshaken. You rushed inside, interrupting your grandmother's speech. She was shocked to see you, but relief washed over her face as she motioned for you to come forward.

"Y/N, my dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You made it."

Soaking wet, you stood beside her, and she handed you the microphone. Despite your usual fear of public speaking, you felt an unexpected calmness. You began your speech, your voice steady and clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you started, taking a deep breath, "I apologize for my tardiness. Today, I was reminded of the true meaning of being a princess. It’s not about the crown or the title, but about the responsibility to lead. My father’s words reminded me of this, and I am here to honor him and all of you."

You paused, scanning the room filled with expectant faces. "Being a princess means embracing the values that truly matter: compassion, integrity, and dedication to our people. It's about standing up for what is right, even when it is difficult. It's about listening to the voices of those who cannot be heard and offering a hand to those in need."

You took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown yet also the support of your father's spirit. "My father taught me that true leadership comes from the heart. It's about being a beacon of hope and a pillar of strength for others. I promise to uphold these values and to be the princess that you all deserve."

The crowd listened intently, and by the time you finished, they erupted in cheers. Your grandmother placed the crown on your head, and you were officially crowned princess.

YOU SLIPPED INTO A BREATHTAKING GOWN OF SILK AND LACE , its intricate design accentuating your every movement. Your hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, adorned with delicate jewels that sparkled under the ballroom lights.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you re-entered the ballroom. The music had started, and couples were already dancing. Your eyes searched the room until they found Sunghoon, who was waiting for you near the dance floor. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly made his way to your side.

"You look stunning," he whispered, offering his hand. You blushed and took it, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "Shall we?"

He led you to the center of the dance floor, and the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he began to lead you in the dance. The world seemed to fade away as you moved in perfect harmony, your eyes locked on each other.

"You did amazing tonight," Sunghoon said, his voice low and sincere. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admitted. "Thank you for believing in me."

As the dance continued, the room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the two of you in focus. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

Your heart raced, and you felt a flutter of anticipation. "What is it?" you whispered, barely able to breathe.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I always have."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

You could feel his heartbeat through the closeness, and you melted into his embrace. Your hands instinctively reached up, one resting on his shoulder while the other gently tangled in his hair.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you confessed, your voice trembling with happiness. "I always will."

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bellezaycafe · 11 months ago

Text

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 5

genre: 2024 Season AU

pairing: Romantic! oc x someone ;) . platonic! oc x literally the whole grid.

warnings: lots swearing, mentions of the accident, stitches, alcohol. mentions of crimes.

context: Dude, if you don't know the context, go read the other parts. Here's the masterlist.

----$----

Five Months Later...

"Are you sure, mate?" Max Fewtrell asked as they stepped into the restaurant.

"Danny said it was the best bet," Lando assured him, shrugging.

"Danny isn't from Melbourne, he's from Perth," Max noted.

"Let's just have dinner, bro. We'll be fine even if we are recognised."

It didn't take long for them to be seated and, as soon as Max realised they weren't going to be waited upon, ordered their meals at the register.

"That's new," Lando commented when they returned to their seats.

"It's a small place," Max replied, observing everyone around them. "The locals seem pretty used to it."

Lando shrugged again and began to talk about upcoming Quadrant content. They had proposed a race with Daniel and Oscar around Melbourne, now that it was the off-season.

"Daniel seemed pretty keen, Oscar -" Lando trailed off.

His mind had gone blank, everything stopped by the memory gripping him.

Her voice.

"Thanks, Damon. Let me know if you need it back," she said to a coworker.

Lando's head snapped up, looking across a staircase to the opposite bar area. There she was, pouring a beer, dark brown hair pulled into a high ponytail and eye crinkled from her smile. She said something to the customer, some old crusty white man and laughed at whatever his response was.

Lando couldn't hear anything Max was saying, couldn't feel him nudge his shoulder.

"It's her," he whispered.

"Love at first sight isn't a thing, Lando," Max joked as he turned around.

"No, dumbass. I- I think it's Sadie." Lando shoved his shoulder.

Max turned back to him, dumbfounded. He had never met Sadie but knew exactly who she was. Throughout his recovery, Lando hadn't shut up about her and what she'd done for him. He'd tried to find her, but two weeks after the accident, she left the UK and no one had been able to find her since.

Lewis had even tried to find her, and was unsuccessful.

"Are you sure, mate? She had a helmet on."

"I just heard her talk. I saw her face at Albert Park. I think- I think it's her."

Her voice echoed in his head; I've got you now.

Keep going, pretty boy.

You're going to be okay.

In the blur of the accident and his trip to hospital, she was what he remembered. Her voice, her reassurance, her warm eyes.

"Mate, you're staring." Max waved a hand in front of Lando's eyes.

"I- Max, I think it's her." Lando repeated.

Their food came, a chicken carbonara from Lando and fish and chips for Max.

"Can I get you anything else?"

Max kicked Lando under the table as he said, "no, thank you," with a smile.

Lando dragged his eyes away from the woman across the room. "Thanks," he muttered.

The older woman smiled, politely said "have a lovely night," and left.

Lando tucked into his food and tried to listen to Max. He couldn't stop glancing, trying to work out if it was Sadie. He needed a closer look at her eyes, her reassuring eyes.

Those deep brown eyes that had said we are okay while she had a piece of his car in her leg.

"Hi there, how's the food?" a server asked. He was tall, and standing between the bar area and their table. His green eyes were watching Lando carefully.

"Great," Max said. "Thank you."

"Actually," Lando said, ignoring another kick from Max. "The barteneder over there, what's her name?"

"Uhh, that is Sadie." The sever said, looking over his shoulder.

Max and Lando shared a look and Lando's hand began to shake. He couldn't place whether it was nerves or anticipation.

"Thank you," Lando murmured, his eyes not leaving Max's face.

The server walked away with a tense smile.

"You sound creepy, you know that right?" Max groaned.

"It's her!" he whisper-yelled.

"You don't know that for sure. Finish your food."

Lando rolled his eyes and stabbed a chip with his fork.

----$----

“Sads.” Damon, tapped her shoulder. “I don’t want to scare you but there’s a guy at a bistro table asking about you. Molly said he’s been looking at you all night.”

Sadie groaned. “Ugh, men. What table?”

“Four.”

She stepped to the side, into and where she could view of table four, and froze.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” She whispered, as if he’d hear her.

Damon pulled her back out of sight. “You know him?”

Shit, she scolded herself. Get yourself out of this one, Sadie.

Sadie hadn’t told anyone from work the real way she had been injured, just that she had been in an accident that weekend.

“Remember how I had to take an extra three weeks off that mid-year annual leave?” she whispered to Damon.

“Yeah, car accident right?”

“Well-“ she drew the word out. “I wasn’t actually in a car. I was hit while trying to get him off the, uh, road.”

Road, not racetrack. Road.

Sadie couldn’t risk Damon figuring out that it had been her in that viral video. The less people that knew, the less people who could tell the media circus where to find her. The less danger she'd be in.

“What?” Damon’s face was scrunched in a frown.

“Ah, it’s hard to explain.” She waved off any further questions. “Can you watch the bar for me? I’m gonna go say hi.”

Damon nodded as Sadie stepped past him, more confidence in her stride than in her heart.

She managed to avoid Lando Norris and his gaze on her way to the kitchen. She thanked Molly, the supervisor, the noticing his behaviour and keeping an eye on him.

That was when she decided to surprise him.

Max Fewtrell, who had sat across from Lando, saw Sadie first.

She shook her head. Let me surprise him, she tried to say.

Max, understanding in his eyes, ignored her.

Lando wore no moonboot or ankle brace. Sadie wondered if the fracture reports were true.

"I see the ankle healed nicely," she quipped. "What about the concussion?"

He spun, almost falling out of his chair, and leapt to his feet. Lando wrapped his arms around Sadie with no hesitation. She was glad the tables nearby were empty.

"Oh shit," he murmured into her ear. "It is you. I was right, it's you."

He'd trapped Sadie's arms by her sides and Max laughed at her awkward attempt to hug Lando back.

He pulled back, but kept his hands on her shoulders, as if she'd vanish if he let go.

Fair enough, she mused silently. I disappeared once, what's to say I won't do it again.

"Mate, what are you doing here?" She asked seriously.

He gestured to the table. "Having dinner, I didn't know you worked here."

"Jesus, of all the coincidences to happen," Sadie muttered under her breath then said a little louder. "I have to get back to work, it was great to see you, mate. I'm glad you've recovered."

"You're tense, why are you tense?" Max observed.

"I want to talk, I want to thank-"

Sadie cut him off. "Not here. My managers don't know exactly how I was injured. No one here does and I'd like to keep it that way."

"No," Lando insisted. "No, you are not disappearing again."

Sadie stopped for a moment, paused to let herself breathe.

"How about this-"

"Last time you said that, we both ended up in hospital," Lando joked with a wide smile.

Sadie returned the humour with a small laugh. She ignored the feeling clutching at her stomach.

"How about this, did you uber or taxi here?

Max nodded as Lando frowned.

"Okay, good. How about I drive you back to where ever it is you're staying and we can talk on the way?"

"And after that?"

Sadie sighed and gave Lando a sad smile. "There can't be an after, mate." She was careful not to use his name, just in case. "It's a long story."

"Will you tell me?" His voice dropped to a volume she didn't know he could use. His head tipped down, eyes boring into hers with too many emotions for Sadie to guess his thoughts.

The sad smile didn't leave her face. "As much as I can, but that isn't a lot. Give me half an hour. It's a quiet night, I'll ask to finish early."

Max reached out and tugged on the back of Lando's shirt.

Let her go, the gesture said. Lando did, releasing her shoulders and shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

"Okay," he decided, "okay."

Sadie glanced to Max. Thank you, her eyes said.

He smiled gently but Sadie could see the concern in his posture and knew it wasn't concern for her. It was about her.

----$----

Twenty-five minutes later, Sadie grabbed her car keys and pulled her name tag off.

"Thanks again, Katy. I owe you for this."

"No, you don't." the on-duty manager waved a hand. "I was going to let some one go home soon, anyway. Have a good night.

"You too, see you tomorrow!"

Lando, who had struggled to take his eyes off her, noted the conversation and rose.

Max rose with him and put a hand on his shoulder. His back to Sadie, she watched as he whispered something in Lando's ear. Lando nodded with a frown.

"Ready?"

"I'm never ready for anything involving you," Lando quipped.

Sadie couldn't help but snort.

They walked to Sadie's small blue Mitsubishi and she ignored the small glance the boys shared. Damn them and their money.

Lando jumped into the passenger seat before Max could say anything.

"Fuck you, dude," Max joked.

Lando only grinned as he put his seatbelt on.

Sadie didn't smile at their antics. She was too busy considering how to tell them the situation without revealing anything that would put them in danger.

“Here’s the deal.” There was no room for negotiation in her tone. “You can ask questions but I’m only going to tell you want I safely can.”

She glanced at Max in the rear view mirror. He was frowning with suspicion and wariness, which Sadie considered to be a good thing.

“That’s ominous,” Lando noted.

Sadie shrugged and pulled out of the car park. “You’re going to have to navigate as well. The Piastri Family home isn’t public knowledge.”

As Lando pulled out his phone and brought up Google maps, he asked, “why did you stay away?”

“You’re a public figure, so are you, Max. Your lives are full of cameras, videos, articles and media. I can’t be amongst all that.”

"Why not?"

"I'm in a witness protection program."

----$----

hehe, whoops. LORE

Hope you like it!

Taglist (never thought I'd write one of these, I'm very happy to):

@snubug

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #get your shit together #lando norris #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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starscabaret · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere OC Profiles

here are some quick basics on all the oc's I will be writing about, feel free to ask anything about them Southern Gothic! Yandere🪲

Full Name: Vincent Lucky Thompson

Gender: Male

Background: Latino/ White

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: Hetero

Age: 26

Height: 6’6

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Cowboy! Yandere 🐎

Full Name: Lane David Gitre

Gender: Male

Background: White

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality : Hetero

Age: 23

Height: 6’2

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: Blonde

Military! Yandere 🎖️

Full Name: Aaron Martin

Gender: Male

Background: East Asia

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality : Hetero

Age:23

Height: 6’1

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Black

College Athlete! Yandere 🏀

Full Name: Elizabeth Danielle Moore

Gender: Female

Background: White

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality : Lesbian

Age: 21

Height: 6’1

Eye Color: Blue

Hair Color: Blonde

Hood Drug Dealer! Yandere 💸

Full Name: Jaden Derrick Fisher

Gender: Male

Background: Black

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality : Hetero

Age: 21

Height: 6’3

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Emo! Yandere 🦇

Full Name: James Nicholas Sawyer

Gender: Male

Background: Mixed

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality : Bisexual

Age: 20

Height: 6’2

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Dyed Black

Graduate Student! Yandere 📚

Full Name: Cynthia Broad

Gender: Female

Background: Mixed

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality : Lesbian

Age: 24

Height: 5’8

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Brown

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chaiiitime · 1 year ago

Text

It Happened One Summer Night

Summary : A broken car. A sleepy little village. It was a scary feeling to see all the excuses you made to hate each other slowly crumble away. Wild curls. Inked skin. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to let go.

Stranded together off the beaten path, Adriana and Daniel realised it was too easy to give in to the feelings growing between them.

Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x OC!Fem

Warning : Sexual themes, 18+

Chapter 5

“Alrighty, here we are,” Daniel pulled up through the gates Adriana had indicated. “Delivered safe and sound as promised,” he said as he playfully tipped his cap towards her.

“Even though you nearly got us killed back there,” he added cheekily.

Adriana gasped indignantly. “I so did not! Anyway, it wasn’t my fault!”

“Sure, it wasn’t,” Daniel teased back.

They’d left the village late in the morning, the two of them taking turns driving to reach Jerez in time for the rehearsal dinner. And now that they were finally in front of her grandmother’s farmhouse, it truly hit Adriana that her little adventure with Daniel was over.

She needed to get out of the car, go find her mother and Carmen and get ready, but yet, neither she nor Daniel made a move to get out. She wondered if he was feeling the same confusing emotions as her. His right hand was resting on his knee and he was doing that thing with his cuticles. She knew him well enough now to know that this little tick of his meant he wasn’t as unruffled as he appeared.

Say something to him.

She turned towards him, surprised that he was already looking at her. He leaned slightly forward, his breath fanning over her face. His eyes looked more hazel than brown in the afternoon sunlight and they held an intent look that made Adriana shiver. Daniel reached out, his hand clasping hers, his thumb grazing the fluttering pulse at her wrist.

“Daniel, I —“

Just then, Carmen burst out of the house, George following behind “You guys are finally here!” Carmen exclaimed. “We were so worried about you!”

Moment gone, Daniel let go of her hand as they slowly got out of the car and were instantly bombarded with questions from George and Carmen. Adriana stayed mostly quiet, grateful for the way Daniel could pretend to be nonchalant as he dismissed their questions with his usual humour. Then Carmen was leading her into the house and George got into the car to take Daniel to the B&B where the rest of the guests were staying.

For a brief moment, their eyes met and Daniel flashed her a tiny smile, just a little quirk of his lips and the simple familiarity of that gesture felt like a promise for much more to her.

“How was it with Daniel?”

Adriana looked up from where she was wrangling with the steamer, trying to get the creases out of her bridesmaid dress. Carmen was lounging on the bed, already in her pyjamas and a face mask on as she munched on some almonds.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Had Carmen seen the way she kept looking at Daniel all through the welcome dinner?

“I know you don’t exactly like him. So —“ Carmen shrugged, “I was just wondering how you survived the last few days with him.”

Adriana’s hand stilled on the steamer. Should she tell her sister that she’d let Daniel touch her in the most intimate of ways? That she’d let him kiss her till she was breathless? That she’d spent the last few mornings waking up next to him? That she was afraid she might be falling in love with him — if she was not already there?

She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “It was alright,” she ducked her head, frowning at one particularly stubborn crease. “He was very nice.”

Carmen hummed, as if she was considering whether to say something or not. “He’s very funny and charming, isn’t he?” She said finally. “I knew you’d get along with him once you gave him a chance.”

Adriana could only nod mutely as she avoided her sister’s eyes. She wanted to ask Carmen how she knew she was in love with George, how she knew George was the one for her. She knew what she felt for Daniel was maybe just infatuation, born out of their forced closeness over the past few days, but she knew she would always regret it if she at least didn’t explore whatever was between them. She’d been dying to go talk to him earlier tonight, but she’d had a million things to do as maid of honour and the only time she’d managed to get away, Daniel had been talking to Toto.

Tomorrow could be her only chance to tell Daniel how she really felt and she was going to make sure she didn’t waste it.

Daniel watched as Adriana escorted an old lady back to her table, smiling as she bent down to patiently listen to whatever the old lady was telling her.

He loved this soft side of her, the one that had a smile for everybody, the one that fiercely loved her family and the one, as Daniel had come to realise, who would do anything to make sure her sister had the perfect day. He also loved the prickly side of her, the one that could be no-nonsense to a fault, the one who always had a sarcastic little quip ready for him. He loved sparring with her. He loved her dry sense of humour. She kept him on his toes. If Blake was here, he would have said that she’d got him by the balls – and he wouldn’t be wrong.

He was quite simply obsessed with her.

From the moment he’d seen Adriana walk down the aisle earlier that day, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her. Daniel was pretty sure bridesmaid dresses weren’t meant to be sexy – but the deep-pink number she wore accentuated every single curve of her body. The back — or lack thereof — exposed the smooth golden expanse of her skin and dipped so low Daniel could almost see her dimples of Venus. He itched to reach out and touch her, especially when the knowledge of just how soft her skin was tormented him.

He watched as some guy approached her and said something to make her laugh. He felt a flash of jealousy that he had no business feeling. Adriana deserved more than the casual fling he could offer her. It wasn’t that he was commitment phobic. He came from a pretty stereotypical Italian family and he’d grown up seeing his parents’ love for each other. Most of his mates back home were married with kids now. Of course, he wanted that kind of stable and wholesome life for himself. He’d always thought he’d get ‘round to having a family of his own once his life didn’t revolve around racing as much, but that seemed pretty far off for the time being .

He’d always been selfish when it came to prioritising his career. Maybe even more so now after staring at the possible death of it. When he got the chance to be back in the sport, he’d promised himself he would not let anything take him away from making the most of this second chance. His chance to create his own legacy. His chance to not be just another passing footnote in the history of the sport.

And a relationship was just that — a distraction because a relationship demanded time and effort and compromise. And Daniel couldn’t afford that kind of distraction now, but he was a greedy gluttonous bastard. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. He wanted to have Adriana without having to change anything about his priorities.

“Hey, man.” Daniel looked up as Lewis sat down next to him. He was pretty sure he and Lewis had already exhausted their quota of conversation topics for the year. They’d already discussed whatever steward decision they’d not been happy with, Lewis’s new tequila venture and Daniel’s merch. They pretty much had nothing left to talk about but it was pretty inevitable that they were back at the same table given how outside of Alex – who was a groomsman – and a few other Mercedes people, they were the only drivers who had been invited for the wedding.

“Why do you look so serious?” Lewis asked as he sipped his drink. His eyes followed Daniel’s line of sight and ended on Adriana. “Oh, I see,” he drawled, hiding an amused grin behind his glass.

“What?” Daniel asked. He took a sip of the champagne they’d served with the wedding cake and winced – champagne only ever tasted good to him when he was drinking it on a podium.

“Come on, man,” Lewis leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs over his knees. “I can’t believe you, of all people, are hesitating to go up to a woman after all the crazy stories I’ve heard about you over the years.”

“Look who’s talking,” Daniel said jokingly, trying to steer Lewis away from talking about him. “I distinctly remember a story about you on a yacht with a certain top model back in 2018, I think it was,” he said, raising his eyebrows almost mockingly.

Lewis stayed quiet, watching as Daniel anxiously twirled the stem of his glass as he furtively sneaked glances at Carmen’s sister. In all the years that Lewis had known him, Daniel had never shown any kind of vulnerability, except maybe for that moment at McLaren. They were Formula One drivers after all, they knew one sign of weakness and all the jackals would pounce – like Lewis did now.

“So, it’s like that, huh?” Lewis said.

“What?” Daniel asked quizzically, his brows furrowed.

Lewis quirked his eyebrows, as if to say you very well know what I mean. He gestured towards where Adriana was standing. “You’re in deep shit, aren’t you?” He said with a laugh. “This isn’t about a fun one night stand kind of thing, is it? This is more like ‘should we sync our Google calendars’ kind of thing.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Daniel could feel the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He was a bit mad that Lewis had so quickly zeroed in on what was bothering him, especially when Lewis was one of the few that fiercely protected his own space.

“Look, man.” Lewis leaned forward and it reminded Daniel of the time when Lewis had taken him aside before his first race in 2011 to offer his advice. “If you’re interested in the girl, you should go and talk to her. You’re not going to be able to drive that beast car of yours well if your balls are blue and with all this pinning. Trust me, you can’t have anything distract you when you’re in a championship fight.”

Daniel gave a little embarrassed huff but said nothing as he thought over what Lewis had just told him. They both sat in silence as they watched the guy who had been talking to Adriana lead her to the dance floor. Adriana glanced at Daniel over the guy’s shoulder, and Daniel could see the same yearning he felt reflected in her eyes.

“Oh for god’s sake, man! Can you do both of you a favour and go up to her already?!” Lewis nearly shouted.

“Ok, fine!” Daniel pushed his chair back and stood up. He stopped, bending down towards Lewis. “Don’t you dare tell anybody about this, though. Because if you do, I have all the details of your wild days from Jenson and I won’t hesitate to tell Lando about it and you know he isn’t one to keep secrets.”

“I’ll wait for my wedding invite in the post!” Lewis laughed as Daniel turned back to flip him off.

“Mind if I cut in?”

Adriana’s heart knocked against her ribcage as Daniel stood in front of her, looking so handsome and serious in his tuxedo and bowtie.

He didn’t give her time to properly excuse herself as he took her hands and guided her to a quieter and darker part of the dance floor. He laid his hands on her bare back, his warmth branding her skin. The song playing over the speakers was upbeat, but Daniel held her close, swaying her gently to his own rhythm.

“You look very beautiful,” he said quietly.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself,” she quipped.

“What – just not too bad?” He smirked, his dimples popping out. “Come on.”

Adriana laughed, slipping her arms around his neck. “You are looking very handsome, Mr. Ricciardo. In fact –” she looked up at him with a teasing smile, “my aunt Maria was definitely checking your ass out earlier. Maybe you should consider giving her your number.’

“Maybe I will,” his fingers trailed down her spine. “If this girl I’m interested in leaves me hanging.”

“Oh yeah?” Her voice was throaty as she spoke.

“Oh yeah,” Daniel echoed back. “Maybe you know her – she’s been driving me crazy the past few days.”

They’d given up the pretense of dancing now, both of them standing pressed together, their breaths in sync.

“I think I’m done dancing now,” Adriana whispered in his ear.

Daniel looked down at her upturned face, his hands pressing lightly just above the dimples in her back. There was a glint of wickedness in her eyes and Daniel was tempted to kiss her right there and then. Sink his hand into her hair and make a mess of her lipstick.

“If we go now, there’s no coming back. You’re mine all night long,” he said roughly.

“I’m counting on it,” her eyes flashed with heat and Daniel was instantly hard. He guided her out of the wedding tent with his hand on her elbow, trying to not show his desperation to get her out of there.

Once out in the night air, Adriana tugged on his arm. “There’s a gazebo just further out in the garden,” she whispered urgently against his lips.

Daniel stopped her, his hand snaking around her waist. “Hell nah. Our first proper time is not going to be in some fucking gazebo with me looking over my shoulder for people.” He pressed a hard kiss against her lips. “I want you laid out on a bed so that I can take my sweet time with you,” he said as he hustled her towards where he’d parked the rental car.

He pressed her against the passenger door as he fished the car keys out of his pockets. Adriana slipped her hands up into his curls, her nails scratching his scalp as she brought him down for a kiss. Daniel gave in to her seduction, their tongues tangling together as they desperately tried to get closer.

Daniel broke away, his breaths choppy. “Okay, okay. Let’s get out of here,” he said with a groan as he nearly wrenched out the passenger door in his hurry to get her inside. He drove like a madman back to his B&B, his hand pressing into the soft skin of her thighs all the way over.

They tumbled into his room, Adriana instantly seeking him out to pick up where they’d left off against the car. Daniel grabbed her hands, pinning them behind her back in his right grasp as his left hand came up to softly cup her face, his thumb grazing the beauty mark just above her lips.

He bent his head, kissing the base of her throat, feeling the fluttering of her pulse against his lips.

“Let’s take our time, shall we?” He whispered huskily against the curve of her neck. His lips traced a blazing path over her skin before they finally captured hers in a kiss.

The kiss was decadent. Depraved. Drugging. Adriana could taste the champagne on his lips and it made her head spin. She strained against his hold on her — helpless, desperate. “Please, let me touch you,” she moaned against his ear.

Daniel pulled back slightly, his pupils blown wide open as he took in her swollen lips and smeared lipstick. He let go of her hands and watched as she slipped them inside his tuxedo jacket. Her fingers lightly traced the golden studs of his shirt as they crept up towards his neck. She tugged on one end of his bow tie, undoing it as her fingers nimbly opened the top button of his shirt.

Daniel tipped his head back with a groan as her tongue delved into the divot at the base of his throat, tentative and bold at the same time.

“This works both ways, baby,” he said as he recaptured her lips in a kiss. His hands moulded over her hips as he trailed them up her body, cursing as he grappled with the delicate buttons at the back of her neck that held the halter of her dress closed. Adriana took over, undoing them with practised ease. She reached for the zipper that ran on one side of her dress and inched it down. Her dress slithered down her body, falling in a pool at her feet, leaving her standing in front of him in nothing more than her matching deep-pink silk thong and heels.

“Holy fuck.” Daniel walked back, leaning against the bureau as he looked at her. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he took her in — from the flushed pink of her puffy nipples to the way her hips flared out into generous curves, a few faint stretch marks marring her skin there. He could see where her wetness had darkened the material of her thong and he ached to slip his hand past the material hiding her from view and feel that wetness on his fingers.

Adriana’s nipples tightened in the cool air of the room. She should have felt self-conscious, standing in front of him almost naked while he was still fully dressed, but yet his gaze warmed her all over. Emboldened by the lust in his eyes, she moved towards him, arching her body against his. The rough material of his tuxedo felt downright dirty as it rubbed against her bare body. Tongues tangling, Daniel lifted her up and carried her to the bed, depositing her on it with a soft bounce.

He stepped back and quickly dropped his jacket to the ground. Adriana lifted herself up on her elbows, watching as he efficiently unbuttoned his shirt, unmindful of where the studs fell on the floor. Her breath caught as his hand came to rest on his belt. She licked her lips in anticipation and Daniel gave her a teasing smile.

Those few days spent on the beach had given her the chance to admire his body — the tight lines of his obliques, the graceful sloping curves of his shoulders, the whorls of curling hairs that grew from the centre of his chest to fan out over his pecs. The way his abs could flex and flit in the light, bringing out an interesting play of ripples and indentations, but she’d yet to see that part of him.

She watched in fascination as he tugged his zipper down, pushing his trousers and boxers over his hips and discarding them carelessly to the side. Then he was standing in front of her in all his naked glory.

Of course, he was a beautiful man.

His cock stood out, proud and thick in a thatch of dark hairs, curving almost upwards towards his stomach. She watched as he palmed his dick, his thumb swiping over the smooth purple head. Adriana wanted to feel the weight of his dick in her mouth, inside of her. Wanted to taste the saltiness of the bead of pre-cum on his tip. Wanted to run her tongue on the bulging vein that ran on the underside of his shaft.

His quads bunched and flexed as he got on the bed between her knees, attracting her attention to his tattoos and Adriana got the answer to a question that had been tormenting her — his thigh tattoos did indeed go quite far up.

Daniel quickly undid the clasp of her heels, placing a soft kiss on the arch of each foot. His hands moulded over her calves, his thumbs digging into the soft skin of her thighs as they came to rest at the sensitive juncture of her thighs and hips.

“You know, a few days ago, I wouldn’t have pegged you for one to wear pink underwear,” he said as his fingers trailed along the waistband of her thong.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she sucked in a breath as his fingers dipped lightly inside. “I unfortunately wear very basic underwear in my daily life.”

“Basic or not,” he flashed her his usual wolffish smile, “they look better off your body,” he said as he tugged at the soaked material and stripped it off her body. He then sat back on his knees and took in the wanton image she presented — hair spread out on the pillows, the fading hickey he’d left days before on her right breast and the way her arousal was smeared on the inside of her thighs.

Daniel bent down, his broad shoulders pushing her legs wide open. She was hot and wet and pink where his finger parted her, almost pulsating in anticipation. He placed an open wet kiss right at the centre of her core. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to taste you since that day on the beach,” he said as his tongue licked along the slit, the wet sucking noise of his mouth mixing with her breathy moans.

He looked up at her, taking in her heaving breasts as he pressed two long fingers inside of her, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot. Her knees closed on instinct, trying to keep his hands there as she rode his fingers.

“No,” Daniel said on a harsh breath. “Let me see,” he said as he pinned her legs open, watching his fingers move in and out of her in satisfaction.

“Daniel, please —“ she moaned. His fingers inside of her felt incredible, but she needed something a bit more. She needed him inside of her. She lifted herself up on one elbow, reaching out to grasp him at the base of his shaft. She gave him a firm and long stroke, Daniel’s head tipping back with a groan as she swiped her thumb over his smooth head. He was hard and heavy in her fist. Warm velvet stretched over steel. He was already thick, her fingers barely wrapping around him but she felt him grow impossibly larger as she stroked him.

Daniel let out a litany of curses. The little minx was going to be the death of him. He pushed her hand away, smearing her juices over his dick with his fingers as he guided himself inside of her, the tip of his cock sliding over her clit. Her wet heat sucked him in, her walls fluttering around him. She felt good. Too damn good.

“Shit, shit,” Daniel withdrew from her as Adriana whined in protest. “Condom,” he said as he got up and stumbled towards his suitcase. He rooted around for the box he always travelled with, depositing it on the bed as he tore a packet open with his teeth.

Adriana thought it was the sexiest sight she’d ever seen. Daniel on his knees on the bed, his tattoos a bright canvas on the bunching muscles of his quads as he slid the condom over his member with adept skill. Then he was moving towards her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he slowly sunk into her, his shaft dragging over her engorged nerves. They both moaned when he was finally fully seated inside of her. He filled her up, the sensation almost bordering on pain as his wide girth almost split her in half.

Daniel rested his forehead against hers, his breaths puffing out against her lips as he tried to get himself under control. Then, he slipped his hands under her hips, tilting her slightly upwards such that with every thrust, his pubic bone rubbed against her clit and his tip hit that sweet spot inside of her.

His body was a live wire, all-tightening sinews as he fucked her in short and fast rhythmic thrusts. He held her body achingly close to his, her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples rubbing against his chest hairs.

Adriana had thought sex with Daniel would be a light and fun affair. She hadn’t expected him to be this intense and serious. His desire had pulled the planes of his face in stark relief. One of his hands cupped her chin, keeping her mouth open for him as he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the motions of his hips. All the pleasure coalesced at the point where he was spearing into her, the heavy weight of him inside of her becoming the focal point of her world. Her hips gyrated off the bed, undulating to meet each of his thrusts as she desperately sought to draw him even further into the wet clasp of her body.

Daniel groaned, the sound coming deep from his body. Her heat was an all-consuming fire, electrifying him. Their bodies slapped together, slick with sweat. A bead of sweat rolled off his brow, dripping down onto Adriana’s breasts, mixing with her own sweat. Daniel bent down, chasing it with his tongue. He could tell she was close, her nails scratching wildly at his back, her walls clamping down on him.

He shifted her legs higher up on his waist, his hips snapping forward with gathering force. He knew the exact moment the coil inside of her sprung free. Her walls spasmed around him, her hips nearly lifting off the bed as her nails punctured his skin. Daniel swallowed her hoarse moans into his mouth, then he set about chasing his own release. He thrust into her with almost animalistic force, his movements turning erratic as he let go.

He threw his head back, the tendons of his neck straining, his teeth bared in a snarl as he came on a silent growl.

He crashed down on her, his head coming to rest between her breasts. They both laid there, trying to catch their breath as they came down from their high. Daniel slipped out of her, tilting his body to the side and wrapping an arm around her waist to bring her with him.

“This was —“ Daniel started breathlessly. “Wow.”

“I know,” Adriana whispered back, pressing her cheek against his.

Adriana woke up feeling a delicious ache in her body. She smiled as she remembered how Daniel had reached for her in the middle of the night, slipping into her with both of them still half-asleep. Their second time had been tender, Daniel bringing her to a slow orgasm that had felt even more powerful than the first.

She turned around, looking at him. He was lying on his belly, which as she’d found out, was his preferred sleeping position. He was looking at her with sleepy eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Good morning,” he said as his fingers lightly trailed over her arm, tracing the curve of her breasts.

“Morning,” Adriana murmured back. His curls were sticking up on one side, making him look almost adorably boyish. Adriana could only imagine how she looked with her day-old makeup on her face, but that didn’t seem to bother Daniel as he brought her in for a soft kiss.

“I was thinking,” he said between kisses, “I have a few free days before I have to start training for the second half of the season. I was thinking maybe I’ll drive the rental car back to Barcelona.” His roving hands had now slipped to her tits, cupping them in his warm palms. “Maybe stop in little seaside villages along the way.” His thumbs were now caressing her nipples, a small smile appearing on his lips as he felt them pebble against his hands. “What do you say about accompanying me?”

Adriana moaned as she looped her arms around his neck, arching into his touch. “Yes, yes,” she whispered against his lips as she kissed him.

She didn’t want this dream to be over.

#with a little cameo from lewis #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine

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homoeroticvillain · 5 months ago

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how geistverse ocs deal with their issues i guess?

geist: masking, masking so hard as much as possible at all times

angie: usually she acknowledges her issues but only to herself and then does nothing about it, but y'know she is self aware at least

adam: romanticizes them, i guess? or at least frames them as just silly things about himself that aren't an issue. he kinda manic pixie dream girls himself

bianca: tries to fix herself through various questionable methods online then catastrophizes when nothing happens after doing it once, picked up a lot of bad habits this way

luci: doesn't think he has any issues 👍

dan: overthinks, looks on reddit about it, feels worse, considers killing himself and/or someone else, decides not to, jerks off, repeat as needed

#geist to themself: i'm the coolest person in this room and no one here knows i have a personality disorder #dan to himself: i need to explode and kill everyone in this room and myself #<- i put dan through so many relationship horrors that he turned out like this #klepto talks to himself #klepto rants about ocs #geist ii [oc]#angel [oc]#lilith [oc]#snow [oc]#<- really need to update their tags to just being their names...#luci [oc]#daniel brown [oc]

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alittlerightalittlewrong · 1 year ago

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Steph: Daniel I have a question for you.

Daniel: Shoot.

Steph: You know how your meta-gene gives you cat-like abilities?

Daniel: Yes?

Steph: So, does that make you a cat boy?

Daniel:

#incorrect dc quotes #incorrect quotes #dc characters #steph brown #stephanie brown #daniel morris (oc)#spolier #spolier dc #batgirl #alley cay (oc)

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callmewrinkles3 · 2 years ago

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That’s when - DR3 x Fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: First part here. It’s been eight weeks since Em left Australia, six weeks since she got on her train to Liverpool. But when her closest friends pool their resources to locate her she finds herself back where everything started, just four years later.

Word Count: 11.7k

Warnings: mentions of pet death (not Em or Dans!), emotionally/mentally abusive families, angst, mentions of potential cheating, Zak Brown (he counts), mentions of fatal crashes.

A/N: It’s heeeere! Thank you so much for the wonderful reception this fic has gotten, and we hope part two is everything you’ve been waiting for. This most definitely isn’t the end of Dan and Em’s story, we’ve so much more to write about.

May 2022

The worst pain that Emma thought she’d ever felt in her life was when she was six years old. She was barefoot on freshly cleaned floors, running around her parents house playing an imaginary game when she slipped and fell right into the doorframe. She remembered her yells for her parents, her baby toe pointing out to the side and turning purple almost before her very eyes. The joint still ached if the weather changed quickly.

Not even the lack of sympathy from her dad had hurt more than the pain when he found her sobbing on the floor of the hallway. Not the doctor at Alder Hey giving her an injection into the aching joint that didn’t fully numb her before yanking it into place. Nothing in her life had ever hurt as much as right then, and she didn’t think anything ever could.

At least, not until she’d left London for good and arrived back in Liverpool.

She’d built up a routine in the five and a half weeks since she’d gotten on the train. The traditional grey British skies helped too. There hadn’t been a single day of sun since she’d arrived, the weather echoing her mindset as she stared out her bedroom window to the housing estate. It was miserable and cold and near constant rain. It matched her mood, no respite from the constant exhaustion and nausea she’d been dealing with since she arrived making her not want to eat anything. She could hear Michael in the back of her head, telling her to just eat a bloody protein bar when she was stressed and had forgotten to eat. But Michael probably hated her. He’d said in his texts that he wanted to find her once, and she’d read them and stared at the screen. She’d nearly written back, not realising he was online and watched as he asked her for details but she ignored it. He couldn’t have meant it. She was the one who left them.

The rain also helped when she followed her routine to go get her coffee at 11.25 - after the boxing classes she went to but hated because the instructors weren’t Michael, but before she started job hunting - because it meant she could keep her coat on. She didn’t have to see the delicate number 3 tattooed on her wrist. That was a blessing. She kept the same routine every day, the only variations if she needed to stop somewhere or do something. There was a day she had to go to the job centre, the day she thought she needed the chemist but it turned out she didn’t need to. It was easier this way.

Em felt like Bella in New Moon, time passing by her rather than her moving with it. The grey skies and constant routine didn’t really help in that regard if she was honest. Everything felt like she was going in slow motion. Without the sun she could keep her mind focused, keep herself away from the memories that were so happy they made her want to sob. Michael forcing her to stand and stretch and go for a walk through the paddock because she’d been head down working in the one awkward position all day. Blake pulling her tablet away from her when they were on the deck at the farm during lockdown and she was making a colour coded calendar of sponsor videos that needed to be filmed and published. But more than that it reminded her of Daniel.

Sunny days made her think of his wide grin and the dimples that had captivated her from the very first night they met. The way he laughed when she made a stupid joke that yeah, the sun stopped the earth from freezing but his smile did the same to her heart. It made her think of summer Christmas in Perth, barbecues and no turkey in sight as she chased the kids around the garden before getting pulled into a paddling pool. Of the sun ring she’d given him. Of her matching moon one that she’d left behind and how much she missed it.

Sunny days reminded her of Daniel, but more than that they reminded her of everything that she’d given up and how maybe she’d gotten things so incredibly wrong. That she’d lost her Australian family. She’d given up her brothers and her sister and her nibbling and the parental figures who cared about her. Grace kept asking to FaceTime and Em sent one word responses back, unable to ignore her. She could pretend to ignore everyone else, but never Grace. Those sunny days meant her family and now she was alone and she was dreading summer.

Her parents weren’t helping either. As soon as she got on the train she knew that Liverpool was the wrong place for her to go to sweep up her heart. Staying with her parents was so definitely wrong, and she shouldn’t have been surprised by how badly it was going. Instead of asking how she was, if she needed anything, even if she was ok, all they wanted to know about was the rumours. About if she was sleeping with Michael, Blake, and Dan. If the photo of Lance hugging her from when he made his pole in 2020 was another “man she’d slept with”. Because, of course, none of them would like her for who she was. It had to be something else.

She was at the kitchen table for breakfast when she finally responded, siting there nibbling on a piece of buttered toast with a cup of badly made tea.

“You need to tell us if there’s going to be a scandal, Emma. We need to be prepared. Were you sleeping with them?” Her mother asked as the cramps low in her abdomen made Em want to get sick from fear and anger and loss.

“Blake and Michael were like my brothers. Daniel was my best friend. They couldn’t keep me employed any longer and we decided a break from our friendship would be good for a while. That’s it.”

She couldn’t go into the details of what had happened or it would all blow up in her face and that was the last thing she wanted. She couldn’t tell them that she was in love and now was utterly heartbroken. If she went into the details of how heartbroken she was Em would break right then and there. The last thing she needed was for her parents to judge her on the baseless rumours. If she cried in front of them she’d never hear the end of it, and she couldn’t admit that she’d lost the best friends she’d ever have and the man who was the love of her life. That she’d be followed around by Dan’s face every time she moved because it was Daniel Ricciardo.

That was why Em spent so much time in her childhood bedroom. It was the only place in the house that didn’t scream reminders of the life she’d left behind, that didn’t immediately make her think of Dan. Everywhere downstairs was filled with the memory of when Michael had been there once on the way home from a Liverpool match. But the bedroom that still had Westlife and Spice Girls posters on the walls - the latter quickly pulled down to get Geri Horner’s face away from her - was the best place to hide. If she had her way she would never bring Dan to the house, he’d never even go near Liverpool as a city. She wanted to keep him safe from the ghosts that haunted her past, and more importantly she wanted him safe from her parents.

Daniel was everything that they would never want her to have in a boyfriend. He was a man with too many tattoos, who hadn’t finished school let alone gone to university, who she’d basically been in a relationship with for four years. A man who travelled the world and wasn’t going to settle down any time soon, who drove fast cars at dizzying speeds. They’d call him reckless and feckless and judge him on sight, not caring what Emma saw in him.

They wouldn’t listen to her tell them that he was the person who made her laugh until tears of joy fell from her eyes and her stomach hurt from laughter. They wouldn’t know that before every race she kissed his helmet and told him to go fast. They’d have no interest that he was the most caring man she’d ever met, that he’d spent the last four years trying to make sure that she was happy and safe and looked after.

All they cared about were things that were unimportant to Em right now. A ring on her finger, two point five grandkids, a house in the suburbs and a steady office job. Not apartments in different countries and tax residencies, not having friends around the world. Not having racing be such a huge part of their lives.

Her parents didn’t care that she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone else in the world, that she would always love him more than anyone else. They didn’t care that he was bigger than her whole sky. She always said that he was her sunshine, but he was so much more than that.

He was her whole world. But she’d had to learn the hard way that she wasn’t his and that knowledge and understanding still ached in her chest. If Dan loved her he wouldn’t have sent her away alone in Saudi. He would have gone back to the room to check on her, even knocked on the door to let her know he was safe. He would have put an arm around her waist and asked “are you ready to leave, love” at the party in Melbourne because that was their code for him wanting to leave. He would have kissed her forehead in bed that night, he would have hugged her.

He wouldn’t have said what he said. The Daniel that she loved, the one that she thought was in love with her, wouldn’t have said that he was done with her. He wouldn’t have said that he was done with them. He wouldn’t have left. The Daniel that she thought loved her for four beautiful years would have spent every minute that they were together in Melbourne trying to convince her to change her plans and come to Perth after the race because he didn’t need to be in London. He would have roped the kids into convincing her to come stay with them and spend time with them. The Daniel that she loved would have never let her go like that.

The worst part was Em knew that she wasn’t blameless. She could have said something, should have said something. After Christmas when things felt oh so wrong she should have spoken up then. On their trip to Sicily when it felt like they were papering over the cracks with sex and food and selfies. When they’d been talking about finding an apartment for them in London but the conversation stopped. She should have said anything. But she was so afraid of things being broken that she hadn’t realised that there was a fundamental break in their relationship that could never be repaired. Because Dan didn’t love her like she loved him.

That’s what she repeated to herself. It played on a loop in the back of her mind every waking minute of every single day since that warm April evening that she stepped on the first plane out of Melbourne. Every single hour of the seven and a half weeks since she’d seen him she kept telling herself that it wasn’t real. She’d fallen so deeply in love with Daniel and wanted him to love her the same way she loved him, so she convinced herself that he loved her. But he didn’t. Not like that. She had to come to terms with the fact that every time he said “I love you” to her it was platonic. The “Emmy”, the “Baby Girl”, the “y’know, right” was all platonic. He was the Morgan to her Garcia the exact same way it was when they watched Criminal minds on quiet flights, except she had fallen so deeply for him. She was making it up and got everything mixed up in her head. That was all it was, a big misunderstanding.

Thinking that way hurt her so much less than the other thoughts that filtered through her head. The ones like Dan was bored of her. He was sick and tired of having her around. He picked the fight because he wanted her to leave. That he’d met the blonde from the photo in Miami before and that’s why everything stopped. He’d found a woman who looked the way the media said a Formula One driver’s WAG should look, so Dan wanted to get rid of her.

It was so much easier than the “I told you so” she’d heard as soon as her dad saw her again. Better than the judging faces she saw when she came out of her room wearing the cardigan Charles had bought her for Christmas. She hadn’t mentioned where she even got it, it wasn’t worth the “stop lying, Emma. We all know you were just an assistant”. It was easier to be quiet than deal with the shocked expressions on faces when she actually appeared at the anniversary party, her press smile firmly on her face and her aunts and uncles judging her. One of her uncles mentioned that it was too safe and she wanted to scream that she was in Spa that awful day three years ago, that it wasn’t safe and she’d seen boys who were too young hold burdens they shouldn’t have to carry. Some of her younger cousins asked questions about if she’d ever met a driver and she wanted to laugh.

She wanted to tell them the story of meeting a barely twenty year old Max Verstappen, gangly and growing into himself, who’d smiled and shaken her hand. Of Charles helping her with her French and Italian in return for being treated not like il predestinato, but like a normal human. Of being one of the privileged ones to get to pet Roscoe and Coco Hamilton and feed them treats, giving Lewis a card when Coco died. Of Esteban and Lance and Mick treating her like a big sister. Of Hanna Vettel handing over one of her kids for a brief minute just inside the Aston garage while Em was talking to Chloe because she was Em and she was always there and she was trusted and liked. That she’d lived and breathed that world for a solid four years, and she’d lost her family and friends leaving it behind.

But she couldn’t. None of them would believe her even if she told the stories and showed the photos she had. None of them counted on her, they thought her flighty. Her leaving her job without a safety net was of course something that Emma would do. She’d moved to London in her teens and had essentially run off, coming home for Christmas and funerals and that was it. She was the one who’d built a life away from them, a life that her parents constantly talked badly about her “gallivanting around the world”. But now it was over and she had to make her peace with that. She’d walked away from everything she’d had, lost everyone she’d loved.

At least she thought she had.

Every single time the doorbell rang, Em ignored it. There was no way it could be for her, so why would she go to get it? Her debit cards remained unused in her purse, and nobody knew she was there. Nobody had any idea that she might even be there. The rare moments that she spent in the living room staring out the window reminded her of that.

“Nobody’s coming, Emma.”

It was the refrain her father said when she didn’t realise what she was doing. He didn’t just mean Dan. There was nobody else in her life coming to see her. Michael and Blake were probably too mad that she’d left her work behind to see her. Chloe and Scotty had enough going on that they might not have even noticed her disappearance. Her father was right, but she didn’t want to hear it. So instead she ignored the knocks and doorbell ringing, ignored the raised voices from downstairs. Her dad was doing his usual being annoyed at a delivery driver for being there and Em went to roll over on her bed to mute the noise. But then she heard it, clear as a bell.

“Wiggle!”

Each of the boys had given her a nickname in the four years they’d spent together. Emma had become Emmy from Dan, and Wrinkles after the first night they met. Blake called her Ems, or after her rant about how Tim Tams were basically the same as penguin bars she became Tim Tam. Or Timothy. Or Tamothy. Or whatever variation of the bars he could come up with in the moment. Michael was the most creative. She was Em to him, but after he walked into her dancing around to Speak Now he started calling her Wiggle when he compared her awful dancing to the kids show. It was their thing.

She went from having no nicknames for most of her life to having more than she could count. It was ridiculous and she joked that it was the result of spending too much time with Australians. But she loved it. It was one of the things that made her feel oh so loved. And there was no greater feeling than the one spreading through her when she recognised Michael’s voice calling her from downstairs thanks to the stupid nickname.

Em wanted a clean break from them all. She left everyone thinking it was the best thing for her to do, that the people she loved could move on without her around. But the second she heard his voice again she stumbled out of the bed and ran to the top of the stairs.

“Sir, I know she’s here. I know Em is here and I’m not leaving until I talk to her.”

“There’s nobody called Em or Wiggle here, I’m not sure what you mean.”

When she got to the top of the stairs Michael said her name again, and the moment she saw him a tiny “Michael”” burst from her, the tears in her eyes making everything blurry. Michael Italiano had found her and he was at her parents front door, arguing with her dad to stop him from closing it in his face. He was there.

Her big brother was right there and she didn’t know how he’d found her but he had. Em couldn’t tell you how she got down the stairs, tears spilling as she pushed through to Michael standing there. She didn’t stop moving until his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against him.

All she wanted to do was ask how the hell he’d figured out where she was but she couldn’t. How had he found her in the very last place she ever wanted to be? Between her near uncontrollable sobs and the knot in her throat all she could do was rest her head against his chest and hold him tightly. It was Michael. She could feel him and smell his usual deodorant and he was right there with her. It felt like a dream but it wasn’t. He was there. She could tell by the way that Michael was holding her and the way he kept pressing kisses to the top of her head that it was real. He was there.

“I told you I was gonna find you, Wiggle,” he whispered against her hair. It was barely loud enough for her to hear it, a warning that her parents were still close enough to listen. “Can we talk?”

She didn’t want to let him go. Letting go of him meant that he could disappear, he could leave. She’d take her hands away and he’d be satisfied that she was alive and could go without a word and she couldn’t take it. He was right there.

Em nodded into his chest, looking up and beginning to loosen her arms but Mike knew her so well and kept one of his around her shoulder, pushing another kiss to the top of her head. The last time she’d hugged someone was eight weeks before in the hotel lobby in Melbourne, holding onto Isaac and Isabella before having to let them go and Joe wrapping an arm around her. She hadn’t touched another human since then. After almost four years with her boys and their families hugs and human touch were common and she craved it. Before now she hated it, but they’d converted her to it. She was so touch deprived that actually being held by someone nearly hurt.

If she couldn’t have Daniel there with her, if she couldn’t have the one she really wanted, at least this way she got to have one of her brothers there with her. Michael didn’t let go, keeping a hold of her as she led him up the stairs. They both ignored her parents questions as they made it into her room and sat down, Em leaning against his chest for another cuddle. They were perched on the edge of the single bed as Em took deep breaths, waiting for him to speak first.

“You don’t know how many people miss you, Wiggle. I missed you so, so much. Come home?”

“I can’t.” It was hard to say so casually but she did it, watching as his face fell in shock. “I appreciate that you’re here but I can’t come back. I’ve nowhere to live, I can’t. I can’t come back to London.”

“If you wont come back, at least let me FaceTime Blake? I had to fight him to stop him getting into the car with me, part of me thinks he might be in the boot. Let him see you and know you’re ok at least?”

“Ok.” She could do that. Michael kept his arm around her while he opened his phone, Em spotting the photo of the two of them walking through a paddock together as his Lock Screen. It barely rang before Blake picked up, hair unusually askew.

“Mate did you find her? Was Chloe right? Is she ok?”

“Hey Blakey.” Em smiled through her tears, watching the shock on his face as he realised she was there. His hands reached out to the screen as if to touch her face.

“TImmy, you ok?” She nodded, unable to speak while swallowing back a sob at seeing him again. “You scared us, you know that? We miss you so, so much. I can’t wait to see you.”

“I’m not coming back. Thanks for being caring, but I can’t. I need to be away. I can’t see him again.”

“Just come home,” Blake pleaded, barely taking a breath before continuing. “Emma, please. Please just come home to us. I need my sister home with me. Nobody needs to choose between anyone, TimTam. But we need you home.”

She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell Michael to leave, to let her stay in London and try to find her new normal. But she’d left to make life easier on them and it clearly wasn’t. She could go back with them and find a new life with them all still there. And that felt right to her. She could deal with Dan on the periphery of her life rather than in the centre.

“I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“My spare room.” Em turned to look at Mike, a grin spreading across his face. “You can stay in my spare room, it’s your room now. You’re coming home with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. I’ll come home.”

“Blake, I’ll text you when we’re in London. Gonna get our girl packed up and ready to go.”

It didn’t take long for her to pack, Michael making her stay sitting as she directed him to where everything was. She hadn’t even unpacked her things fully, just pulled out what she needed as she did. But the two cases were packed, Michael had gotten her chargers together, and he brought them downstairs as Em followed behind him.

“Where are you going, Emma?” Her mother asked, watching the way Michael kept his hand on Em’s back.

“Back to London. I shouldn’t have left.”

“We never wanted you to go, everyone’s just glad you’re coming back. Chloe knows I’m here, trying to convince her not to fly over has been tough.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. She was about to tell Lawrence what happened so he’d get involved in finding you. Lance really misses you. They’re the only ones who know everything, we told everyone else you’ve family stuff happening. Well, Seb, Este and Mick might have an idea from Lance. Natalie and Ted said to say hi and to look after yourself. Charles kept asking when he thought you’d be back.”

Em could feel her parents eyes flicking between them as he spoke, taking in the names.

“Who are you talking about?” Her dad asked, Michael squeezing her hand for a moment as if to ask if he could reveal everything. Em squeezed back hard, watching as he was let off the leash.

“Em’s friends in the paddock. Chloe Stroll, her dad Lawrence owns Aston Martin and her brother, Lance, is one of the drivers. Sebastian Vettel, Esteban Ocon, and Mick Schumacher are Lance’s teammate and best friends. They all helped Em when she learned French and I think Seb helped a bit with Italian. And then Natalie and Ted are Natalie Pinkham and Ted Kravitz from Sky Sports. And of course the last is Charles LeClerc. He got you that sweater, right?” Em looked down at the one he’d gotten her the year before, fingering the soft wool.

“Yeah he did. I told him I owed him for the Italian and French lessons and he told me he owed me for the English ones and got me this. I’ve missed them all.”

“They’ll be happy to see you in Monaco. We’ve got to get going to get back to London.”

“I hope this isn’t another mistake.” Em nearly stopped as her mother commented, but instead she just looked at her.

“It’s not. This is the right thing for me.”

“Let us know if there’s going to be another scandal. We need to get ahead if there is.”

Em turned and left, not dignifying it with a response. Michael was the one who got her suitcases into his car, opening the passenger door and watching as she settled in. It didn’t take long to get on the motorway, Michael pulling into a services about halfway through the drive.

“What do you want with your coffee?” He asked, Em shaking her head.

“A caramel latte is fine. I don’t need anything.”

“Did you have breakfast?” She shook her head. “You need fuel, Wiggle.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“A chocolate muffin?”

“Maybe.”

She sipped her coffee and picked at the muffin, barely eating any of it. But finally they were getting closer and closer to London, the motorway getting busier with people leaving the city after work. She was terrified and excited at the same time, completely unsure if this was the right thing to do. They’d said they wanted her back. They wanted to see her. People were asking about her. But really would she be wanted there?

Her phone lit up with an incoming call from Grace, Em sending it to voicemail. She couldn’t.

“Who was that?” Michael asked, Em taking a sip of coffee before speaking.

“Grace. I still texted her. She kept asking how I was and saying she was worried and I couldn’t cut her off. I was trying to do it slowly. It’s easier when she’s the other side of the world.”

Michael reached over to squeeze her hand, Em squeezing back.

“We’re home.” She looked around the familiar car park, panic starting to hit her chest. Michael recognised it in a moment, a hand on her shoulder. “I’m right here, Ems. Right here. Blake’s in the apartment because he couldn’t wait to see you. Are you ready for that?”

“Yeah.” No. She wasn’t nearly ready but she had to. She had to see him and apologise for leaving him lost with work.

Again Michael insisted on carrying her cases, the two of them arriving in together. He opened the front door to let Em through and she saw Blake the moment she stepped into the living room. He stood up, opening his arms and Em walked straight into them and clung to him again.

“God I missed you. So, so much. I didn’t think I’d get to hug you again.” Blake’s words made Em want to crack, her sobs coming out so quickly.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You’re back, that’s all that matters TimTam. You’re home and we’ve got you.”

The afternoon passed quicker than Em expected, the three of them splitting takeout that she barely ate. They boys glanced at her, and she knew she didn’t look great, but she couldn’t stomach anything.

“I added you to the flight reservation for tomorrow, Ems,” Blake said and her head shot up, staring at him.

“What reservation?”

“To Nice. Monaco’s this weekend.”

“I can’t.” Cold fear caught around her stomach. Monaco was the beginning of everything. “You don’t understand, Monaco is-“

“Where everything started. Dan told us.” She looked at Michael, at the first mention of Dan he’d made. “Em the two of you need closure. Say goodbye to him in person. I’ll bring him to our hotel to do it so he’ll leave when you need him to. But you need this.”

“I don’t know if I can walk away again.” The words were choked, yet more tears flowing. She didn’t know she had anymore tears left to cry. “It was so hard the last time. I don’t think I can again.”

“He’ll be the one leaving this time. But you need it. Plus, Chloe and Scotty will be there. I put it in the group chat we found you and Chloe’s insisting. If it wasn’t Monaco she’d be here already.”

“Group chat?”

She listened in stunned silence as they filled her in on everything that happened since she’d left. Chloe’s flight to London, leaving her in laws behind, so she could try find Em. The gossip instagram sightings of her that had been used to find her. The way people kept asking about her. Brown wanting to cancel her paddock pass.

“It’s still active?” It was the one thing she was stuck on.

“Dan wouldn’t let them cancel it. He insisted that you needed it. He kept hoping you’d turn up one weekend.”

“I’ll come to Monaco with you.”

That night she lay in bed, staring at the wall. She was home. She’d get to see Chloe tomorrow, and nobody was mad at her. They all missed her and wished she’d talked to them, but they weren’t mad. She was going to get to say goodbye to Dan for a final time and then come home and start building her life up. She could do it.

Her phone rang and without thinking she answered in her half asleep haze, realising too late that it was Grace calling.

“Hello? Grace?” There was silence on the line, Em leaving it for a moment. “Are you there?”

With no answer she hung up, switching her phone off. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need to mourn anymore, not when she had a hard few days ahead of her because Monaco was the place where everything had begun and where it would end for good.

Dan stared at the track map in front of him, his finger tracing the oh too familiar streets of Monaco. He knew every single round of the track. Every single place he’d need to turn, he’d driven them the day before when he got back from Barcelona. When he came back to this apartment that reminded him of Emmy and cried sitting on the couch and spotting her shoes by the tv. When he sprayed her perfume on the pillow next to his because it helped him get a little bit more sleep.

He wasn’t ok. He knew that now. He knew he had monumentally fucked up and ruined the best relationship of his life because he never opened his mouth. He had flights booked to go home and tell everyone that Em was gone and he was dreading it. Having to tell his parents she’d left him, telling Michelle and Adam that she was gone. Telling the kids how much their auntie Emmy loved them but Dan had fucked it all up on them so she couldn’t come back again.

His heart was completely broken. The one week between races meant he didn’t have to go to England, could avoid the apartments in London. His empty one and her former one he was paying rent on. Instead Dan focused on the next weekend. He ran through the circuit on the sim again and again until he was driving it as perfectly as he could but his lap times were still too high. He ate and worked out and used the sim and showered and slept and that was all he did. Focusing on anything else was too much.

Blake and Michael were still in London. They were getting in on Wednesday but not seeing him till Thursday, two days from then. And that was barely hanging on by a thread. Every morning Dan half expected Michael’s resignation letter. Blake hadn’t said anything yet, but it was coming. He knew his manager too well. The explosion and anger were going to happen and it was going to be deserved.

When Dan was feeling especially masochistic he dug down in his backpack and opened the green leather box hidden in a bottom pocket. Nestled in the black satin was a thin gold ring with a tiny diamond in it. Em deserved more, deserved a huge ring. But she’d never wear it. She always preferred dainty jewellery, made comments about how big stones were destined to fall out. He picked it out for her style, not his. He should leave it in a drawer or sell it but he couldn’t. It meant giving up on her, and he didn’t know if he ever could.

“Dan? Em? Are you home?” His head shot up as his hand dropped the ring into his bag. No. He knew that voice and she should be seven timezones away from him right now. Not walking into his apartment.

“Danny? You here?” His mum and dad walked into the kitchen to see him, both of their faces brightening at seeing him there before taking in the expression on his face, the tears he’d let out thinking he was alone. “We thought we’d surprise you for Monaco. Where’s Em? Is she gone out?”

His throat went dry as he swallowed, watching the two of them taking in the scene. The lack of anyone else’s belongings. Her baby blue suitcase not there.

“Danny? What’s wrong?” He hadn’t heard his mum like that since he was a teenager and scared to move to Italy.

“I…uh…I have flights to come home next week to tell you.” He swallowed desperately, unable to make himself say the words for a moment. He hadn’t said it out loud. “Em…I…Emmy left me. She’s gone. She’s gone for good and she’s not coming back and it’s all my fault.”

He could see the moment they hit his parents, the way they nearly rocked back. The devastation on his mother’s face, the shock and dismay on his father’s.

“But you were going to propose?” Dan huffed a bitter laugh at his dad’s words, putting the ring box on the table where they could both see. “What happened?”

“I fucked up, Dad. I…I did something I never should have. I said things I shouldn’t have said. So she’s gone and she isn’t going to come back. I don’t even blame her, she was right to. I never even called her my girlfriend to her face.” They both sat and looked at him as Dan ranted, letting it out to the two people who he thought would still love him after he revealed everything. “She made me promise her not to leave her alone and then I not only did it, but I sent her away. And we fought in Melbourne. I told her I was done. She resigned when she was flying home from Australia. I haven’t seen her since the hotel and there was a letter in Blake’s and my stuff and she moved and she’s gone. I chased her away. She’s sorry for hurting everyone but I made her leave. I made her go. She’s never coming back.”

He watched his mum pull out her phone and hit a speed dial, putting it on speaker. It rang once, twice, three times, and then hit voicemail. “Hey, this is Em. If this is business related send an email. If not, leave a message after the beep.”

“Dan…” His mother wrapped him in a hug and Dan sobbed in her arms, everything hitting him now he’d said it out loud. Em was gone. His Emmy wasn’t his and she was never coming back. It had been nearly eight weeks since he’d gotten to even see her, it was nearly three months since they’d shared a bed. Not since the night before going to Saudi. She wasn’t going to run her fingers through his hair anymore. She wasn’t going to cup his cheek and kiss him, fall asleep with her arm over his chest. Curl up on his lap on a plane while he talked to the guys and she napped.

He’d never see her in the paddock again. Never get that jealousy when he saw her talking in French with Charles or Lance, never see her hug Chloe before they went to their own garages. Never watch her talk to Mick and tell him to keep his head up, that she was proud of him.

He was never going to get to have a child who looked like her. One with her hair and eyes and nose. One who looked like him but with her personality. Never put the ring on her finger. Never ask her to please let him be her husband because he didn’t care about the rest of it, he wanted her.

The list of things he would never do again felt sickeningly long. He’d forget how it felt to kiss her. How it felt when she woke up from a nap in his arms and smiled up at him. When they were in Sicily and ate food and he showed her where his great Nonna had lived, a house no longer occupied by Ricciardos but where his dad had carved his name into drying cement. The way she looked at him like he was her world. The way she said “I love you”.

He was going to forget all of it in time. He’d never forget Em, never forget how she had changed his life and ruined him for any other woman, but he’d forget the details. He kept opening his messages praying for something from her but nothing. He was never going to get another one from her.

“You were going to propose.” Joe was caught on that detail, opening the box and looking at the ring he’d bought. “You had the ring, you asked me how I knew. How did…how did it happen?”

“I told her I was done.” It slipped out with another tear, Dan pushing his fist to his mouth. He’d replayed those sentences over and over and over in his head. “If that’s what you want, I’m fucking gone. I’m done here, I’m gone” Em’s face falling as he turned to slam the door. The way that if he’d taken even a second he’d have realised she knew him so well she pushed his buttons deliberately. He’d have known. He wouldn’t have left. He didn’t even kiss her goodbye.

“I can’t believe..you…I…” Joe burst into angry ranting and Dan half ignored it, feeling his mother stiffen at his back.

“Did you really say that to her?” Grace was quiet, and the quiet disappointment was worse than anything else. Italian mothers knew Catholic guilt, and at his heart he wanted to be a good son.

“Yeah. She told me to leave, that I’d been leaving her behind the whole weekend and I should go. So I told her if that was what she wanted I was gone. I was done. And then she went downstairs and said goodbye and I swear she planned it. She knew what she was doing. The resignation email was already queued. She knew she was leaving and I encouraged her.”

“The presents…” he could hear the realisation in his mother’s tone.

“I have to tell the kids she loves them so much but she can’t see them anymore and she wishes she could be their auntie. It’s why I’m going home next week so I can tell everyone. I just want her back, Mama. I don’t know how to do anything without her. She’s my life.”

His mother sat opposite him, pulling Dan’s face up and wiping his eyes. He stared into that identical face, the same nose and curls he’d inherited.

“You can’t fix this, Danny. If she’s gone she’s gone. But if she saw you like this? You’re too thin, have you eaten?” He shook his head. “If she saw you like this she’d blame herself and you don’t want Emmy to do that, do you?”

“No.”

Exactly. So you’re going to put that away and we’re going to make dinner. You have media tomorrow and you need to get yourself ready for it. Understood?”

“Yes, Mama.” She pulled him into a hug.

“We’ll talk more when you’re ready for it. I bet Michael already told you just how angry he is?” Dan nodded. “I thought so. I’m so disappointed in you. You called her your girlfriend, you were going to ask her to marry you but you never told her that you’re dating?”

“I thought she knew!”

“You always say it. Did you even have an anniversary?”

“Monaco. It’d be four years on Friday.” Grace peeled back through the memories, shaking her head.

“I…that makes sense. You need to get ready for tomorrow. Go shower and change, and I’ll have food ready when you’re out.”

“Thank you.”

He ignored the quiet disagreement he could hear between his parents as he left the room. He just felt hollow, and when he got into the shower and caught sight of Em’s fancy custom shampoo his tears fell almost as hard as the water from the shower head.

—

Being in a hotel in Monaco felt too much like four years before and it was suffocating for Em. She shared the room with Michael, and the day before Chloe had appeared at the hotel room door, wrapping Em in a hug and pulling her to sit and talk. It was awkward and painful and part of the mistakes she’d made were full force in front of her, but it was also like she’d never been away. Having her best friend there as they people watched out the window and Chloe filled her in on the gossip she’d missed in the last few months.

But it was Thursday and she was on a mission. Michael had agreed to bring Dan to the hotel that afternoon for her to say goodbye to him at last, and Em was on her way back to Dan’s apartment to pack up whatever was there. She wasn’t even sure what she’d left behind, but she needed to get it out of the apartment. She didn’t want to have to go to the place she almost considered home after saying goodbye to Dan for the final time.

For the first time since she’d answered Grace’s phone call and got no response on Tuesday night Em switched her phone back on, muting all her notifications but opening Spotify. Her Taylor Swift Heartbreak playlist was on repeat, big sunglasses hiding the bags under her eyes and making her blend in with the rest of the city. Last Kiss was playing through her headphones and she bit her lip as she went into the apartment building, pushing the button for Dan’s floor and waiting to go up. Their floor. Dan’s floor. He’d kept making the joke that she basically lived there, she should stay more. But London had always been their home base, really.

Never thought we’d have our last kiss. Never imagined it ends like this. Your name, forever the name on my lips. Just like our last kiss.

The music was blasting as she undid the lock, closing the door firmly behind her. Em didn’t notice the extra shoes in the hallway, didn’t hear the movement in the living room until she pulled an earbud out of one ear and heard movement. Looking up she stopped in terror as Joe and Grace Ricciardo were watching her with shocked eyes.

“Emmy?” Grace asked, worry filling her face as she took Em in fully. The panic filled her chest, her phone falling to the floor and the other earbud yanked out of her ear. They weren’t supposed to be here. They were supposed to be in Perth, far away from all of this. They were supposed to be the other side of the world and the apartment was supposed to be empty and she’d run away, why were they still here? Why weren’t they yelling?

Her hand reached out blindly, grabbing the side of the couch and holding on as it became hard to breathe. She didn’t know what was happening, panic filling her entire body as her thoughts fizzed out and she could feel herself shaking.

“Joe, get orange juice and some water? And put on the Red album, its by Taylor Swift. It’ll help her. Emmy I’m going to touch your arm and help you onto the couch. It’s just me, I’m right here Sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, so sorry,” she gasped out, Grace sitting her down and pulling her into a hug.

“You don’t need to be sorry, we understand why. We get it. Deep breaths, deep deep breaths. Follow my breathing. In for four, hold it for seven, out for four. Follow my counting.”

She followed Grace’s counting, almost jumping when she felt someone at the other side of her. Em kept her eyes closed, afraid if she opened them it’d be just a dream. State of Grace was playing in the background and the irony made her want to laugh if she was less panicked.

“It’s just Joe. We’re both right here for you, deep breaths. We’ve got you Emmy. We’ve got you.”

“I’m right here Kiddo. Follow Grace’s breathing and we’re right here.”

It took time for her to calm down and the trembling to stop. Treacherous was playing in the background as she opened her eyes, looking at her hands. Two familiar hands were clutching hers, sandwiching her on the couch.

“You’re here?” Em asked, Grace and Joe both squeezing her hand.

“We got in Tuesday to surprise you and Dan. He didn’t tell us what happened. We’re so glad to see you.” Grace’s voice was low, Em looking over at her and leaning in.

“I was coming to get my stuff. Michael’s getting Dan to come by the hotel room so we can clear the air.”

“We missed you so much.” It was quiet as Em took it in. The warmth of the two of them beside her, the way Grace’s arm was still around her back and holding her steady. Leaving once was impossible, but leaving twice felt like torture.

“I should go. I’ll get everything when you’re not here.” She went to stand but Joe held her in place, making her look at him.

“Why do you think you need to go?”

“I left. I’m not sure why you’re being so nice to me.”

“You’re family, Kiddo.” Those simple words made her break. The tears that the panic attack had held back started, Em trying to wipe them away. They wanted her. Nobody ever wanted her and she’d walked away but they wanted her and Em felt like she was going to break in two. But Dan’s parents held onto her tightly, calming her down until Grace pushed a glass into Em’s hands.

“You’ve had a shock. Drink the juice and then we’ll talk.” Once Em drained the glass she looked at Grace, the older woman holding her hands as Joe held onto her shoulders.

“Dan told us about what happened. He told us about you not wanting to make people pick sides. But you’re our family, Emmy. Just as much as he is. No matter what happens or happened with you and Dan, we want you in our lives. Don’t take that choice from us.” She nodded, Grace beaming at it. “Now, the kids gave me presents for you. They told us you weren’t well so they wanted to make sure you felt better. Plus we picked up things for you too.”

Joe was the one who went to a suitcase and opened it, pulling out a pile of presents. There were two packets of Tim Tams to make her laugh, a giant Perth mug the size of Dan’s head, and her favourite of all. A hand made get well soon card with childish colours on it, Isaac written semi neatly and Isabella written in a scrawl inside it. Attached to the card was a small white teddy bear that could fit in the palm of Em’s hand. There was a thin red scarf on the bear, making Em grin. She let out another tear at the inscription in the card, written in Isaac’s messy handwriting.

Auntie Emmy,

Uncle Dan said you’re sick and you can’t go on FaceTime with us but we miss you! London looks like it’s raining so you should come to us to get better cause it’s sunny. Isabella named the bear London cause it’s where you are.

Lots of love and see you in winter!

Isaac and Isabella

“They don’t know?” Em asked, Grace shaking her head.

“None of us did. You know how Dan is when he’s hurt, he keeps it in.”

“We both do. He…he’s my whole world. And it’s over and I have to say goodbye tonight and I don’t know how to.”

“Emma, look at me.” Joe had never used her full name and she looked up, wiping away tears. “I shouldn’t say this, he said it to us in confidence. But Danny said the exact same thing about you. He called you his life. Now I don’t know all the details of what happened, but if the two of you miss each other so much then I think you’re destined to fix things. You don’t get two loves like this. He wants you back, Kiddo. And I think you do too.”

“Yeah, I really do.”

Em sat there, holding the teddy to her chest as Grace and Joe kept her penned in. All she wanted was to stay right there with them.

She knew she needed to leave but it was the last thing she wanted to do. Even with the assurances that she was still family it just didn’t make sense. Her family had never wanted her but the Ricciardos still did? They wanted to keep her in their lives? She couldn’t understand why. Time kept passing and the sun was moving across the sky but she couldn’t do it.

Before she could make herself stand up, the front door opened and the oh too familiar footsteps came in. Dan was right there.

“Mum, Dad, I’m home!” She stood up at his voice, Dan coming into the room and stopping still. “Emmy?”

“Hi.” He was gaunt, the tan not hiding how pale and drawn he looked. She knew they were nearly identically haggard, the split hurting both of them more than they could have believed. They met in the middle of the room, Dan opening his arms and wrapping them around her. Em clung to him, holding on so tightly that she thought she might break him. Dan was doing the same thing, pressing kisses to her head. She could hear movement around them, listening out for speech.

“We’ll make sure she’s ok,” she could hear Joe say.

“Really?”

“Yeah. If we need to we’ll bring her to the hotel ourselves.”

“Thanks.” It was Blake and Michael who’d spoken and left the room, Em barely paying attention.

“We’ll leave you two alone.” That was Grace, squeezing Em’s arm and leaving the room as Em looked up at Dan. He was staring at her, and the look in her eyes made her nearly want to look away. It was fierce and caring and she thought it was echoed in her own.

“Are you really here?”

“I’m here.”

“Are…are you going to leave again?”

Em took a breath, deciding to be brave for once. “I’m only leaving if you ask me to leave.”

The grin that spread across his face was the best thing she’d seen in months, the bright smile making her join in.

“Can I kiss you?”

She didn’t even get the words out, nodding as Dan leaned down to kiss her and it felt like coming home. He was there and they had so much to fix, so much to work out, but he was her home. The idea that she was going to walk away or leave him again was impossible.

“I love you. I love you so much and there’s so many reasons why I should have said it before now but I love you and I want you to be my girlfriend. I know we have to talk but I need you to know, Baby Girl.”

“I love you too. So much. I didn’t think you loved me. That’s why I left. But I’m not going anywhere Dan. I can’t.”

He held onto her as they made their way to the sofa, Em settling on his lap. She didn’t fit the way she used to but she rested against his chest, her hand over his heart as her other hand held the teddy against her chest.

“Who’s that?” Dan asked, Em smiling.

“Isaac and Isabella sent him with your parents, they called him London. He’s to make me feel better. They’re good kids.”

“They love their auntie. I didn’t say anything to them. I didn’t know what to say. Just you were sick and had some family stuff so you couldn’t go on FaceTime with me. Next time I talk to them you can too?”

“I’d really like that.”

It was quiet for a moment before they both tried speaking at the same time, identical words flowing into each other.

“I’m sorry.” A huffed laugh went between them, Dan holding out his hand for her to speak.

“I’m sorry. For running, for not talking. I shouldn’t have left but I couldn’t stay. I was convinced it was over and you hated me. I couldn’t stay waiting.”

“I’m so sorry for making you think that, Baby. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long. I never should have said that, I shouldn’t have sent you away in Saudi. I shouldn’t have stayed away from you in Melbourne and I definitely shouldn’t have just left the bed that morning. I should have been there for you. If you’ll let me I want to be there for you now.”

“Yeah. I want it.”

“Yeah?” Em reached up to kiss him, separating and kissing his nose next.

“We have so much to talk about. We have so much we need to fix. But we can’t do it now.” Dan went to speak but she held up a hand and he let her continue. “This conversation we need to have is gonna take time and we don’t have time in the middle of the season. When summer break happens we’ll do it then?”

“That sounds good. But if stuff comes up we talk about it straight away. I can’t lose you Emmy. When you answered that call on Tuesday I couldn’t speak. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. Not again. And that was you?”

“Yeah. I thought you’d answer if you thought it was Mama, but I was in shock hearing you again. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Danny.”

She stayed curled up on him as they both half dozed, content to just be together. Grace and Joe came out a few moments later, looking at the two of them. Em fell asleep in Dan’s arms, unaware of what was happening around her.

“You gonna tell her everything?” Joe asked Dan quietly, watching as his son ran his hand up and down Em’s back.

“Yeah. We’re going to make this work. I got a second chance, Dad. I’m not losing her again.”

“Good.”

Em woke for dinner, actually eating the meal put in front of her. She still wasn’t hungry but having people around made it easier for her to eat. She was beside Dan, his hand on her thigh as they ate Grace’s cooking. It was quiet afterwards, Em pushing kisses to Dan’s cheek because it was something she could do now.

“Are you staying the night?” Dan asked, Em shrugging.

“I don’t know if I have anything here.”

“Your clothes are all still where they belong. I couldn’t move them.”

“Then yes.”

It was awkward as they got into bed for the first few moments, each lying on their own side and trying to get comfortable. Em took the first step, rolling over and putting her arm over Dan’s chest, resting her head on his pec and curling into him. One of Dan’s arms went around her, his lips pushing kisses to her to make her smile. It was the first night of uninterrupted sleep she’d had since she’d left Saudi.

Em woke to a kiss on her forehead as Dan eased out of the bed. “Hmm?”

“Go back asleep, Baby. Just getting up. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

She put her arms around his pillow and curled into it, smelling Dan again on it. He was there and he’d told her he was getting up and it was fine. Fifteen minutes later she woke to more kisses to her face.

“Wakey wakey, I’ve got breakfast.”

“What?”

There was a tray waiting for her, bacon and eggs and a pancake on a plate. Dan’s own meal was there too, along with a bowl of fruit for them to split and a coffee each. She grinned and sat up as Dan got back into bed.

“You made breakfast?”

“You always love when I do.”

“I just didn’t expect it.”

“Happy anniversary, Emmy.”

“Happy anniversary.”

Four years since she’d been in Monaco and watched him win, four years since that night in the club and the sex that had led to everything. To the happiest and saddest she’d ever been in her life. She couldn’t help but grin, eating her breakfast and talking to Dan before going for a shower.

In the bathroom Em fully realised just how she looked. She’d lost weight, her face tight and her hair dull. She looked sick, dark bags under her eyes. And yeah she was there with Dan now but she wasn’t ok, not really. She needed to get herself together and Monaco was not the race to be back in public for.

It was too early in the morning for them to really get up, but Monaco was always weird and Dan had more media that day before and after the practices. Em had insisted she’d be fine there alone, she’d be happy on the couch with F1TV on. But Dan had another surprise for her.

There was a knock on the door at eight, Grace opening it up and welcoming the visitor in. Chloe Stroll stood there smiling, hugging Em and kissing her cheek.

“Everything good?” She asked, Em nodding.

“My boyfriend and I are good.” Chloe grinned, hugging Dan and whispering something that made him pale.

“I’m here for the day. Practice day isn’t fun from the garage, and I figured you wouldn’t want to be around the paddock this week considering everything.”

“Thank you.”

Blake and Michael were the last to arrive, the latter immediately coming over to Em.

“I’m good. Really, I’m good.” She gave Michael a hug, giving one to Blake as well.

“We need to head. I got Nat to move your interview to this morning instead of last night. I told her Em needed you because of family stuff. She was good to move because it was for Em.” Blake nodded towards her after he finished speaking, Dan putting his game face on.

“Tell her I said thanks?”

“Of course.”

Everyone except Em and Chloe left the apartment, the two women sitting on the couch with coffee and Chloe catching Em up on everything that had happened. Apart from that it was relaxing, FP1 on. Em cringed at the times, nervous watching Dan going around the track. She’d seen him be confident on it and seen him be miserable on it, and this was reminding her too much of the year before. But she had lunch with Chloe and they spent an hour painting each others nails as FP2 began. Ems were blue and purple to match Dan’s helmet from the year before, just dry as she caught sight of an orange car going into the wall.

“No. No.” Chloe grabbed her hand as Em increased the volume.

“Is the car ok?” She heard Tom say.

“I’m ok.” She breathed a sigh of relief before standing, heading to the bedroom and putting one of Dan’s oversized hoodies on.

“Em? What are you doing?” Chloe called, watching Em slip on vans.

“I have to see him.”

“Ems, you can’t. He’ll be back soon, he’s fine.”

“I have to. Chlo…if that was Scotty and something happened on a half pipe, and you were a kilometre away. You’d run, right?”

“Yeah. I would.”

“Please.”

It took five minutes for Chloe to do Em’s makeup, hiding the worst of the dark circles around her eyes and the sickly pale complexion she had. The two women had their passes, Em picking hers up from the counter and putting it around her neck. It was an active pass, it was her pass, and it’d get her into McLaren which was where she needed to be. They scanned in and were mostly ignored, just looking like two more young women who were in the paddock. Chloe slipped into Aston, promising to text as soon as she saw Lance for Em to head over to them. Em walked up to McLaren, scanning her pass in front of the security who watched with suspicion as she was immediately allowed into the garage.

Grace and Joe were standing in the viewing spot and Em crept up, tapping Joe’s shoulder. Dan’s car was back, the suspension clearly an issue and the front wing gone. Joe wrapped her in a hug, Em returning it and giving one to Grace.

“How is he?”

“Ok. He got checked out, he’s just finished media. He was going to the med centre afterwards so he could be approved, and then he’s going to his room. Head up there, he’ll be glad to see you.” She nodded, turning and going straight to it. She caught sight of a nod from Andreas and a look from Brown, but they were mostly ignored as she set her sights on her target.

The drivers room was small, Em sitting on the tiny couch and waiting. He’d be there soon. She’d see him and get to see him. He’d be ok. She could hear his footsteps coming down the hallway and when the door opened Em stood to see him.

She didn’t know who hugged who first, Em wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold him. Her boyfriend was so much taller than her but she didn’t care, keeping him close and rubbing his back.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve got a meeting in ten though,” Dan whispered, Em kissing his cheek.

“I’ll go down with you and sit in hospitality. It’ll be fine.”

Em held Dan’s hand going downstairs, walking into the garage still holding it as they got looks. Brown came over to call Dan to his meeting, but Dan leaned down to peck her lips before he said anything.

“I’ll be over when I can. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Chloe was just outside the garage, the paddock still mostly empty while practice was happening. She draped another lanyard around Em’s neck, nodding at Blake behind her.

“You’re in Aston Martin for the rest of the weekend, Dad said yes immediately. I thought it’d keep the media away, they won’t expect you to be there. Can you tell Dan?” The second part was to Blake who nodded, watching as Em was swept down to the green hospitality.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in there until she got a text saying they were leaving, the paddock now empty of media and Em putting her sunglasses back on to head down and walk out in the gaggle of people around Dan. She blended in and nobody noticed, Em tired after the day. Once they were further into the city Dan took her hand and she smiled up at him, the two of them able to do it in public. It felt so good.

That night Grace insisted on cooking for them before leaving to go for dinner with Joe, making their anniversary dinner before hugging them and saying goodbye. It was good food and smiling, Em ending up in Dan’s arms on the couch.

“I love you.” It felt so lucky to get to say it over and over and watch Dan’s eyes light up.

“I love you too. I booked flights to go to Perth on Monday. I was gonna tell everyone that you and I were over and you’d left. I thought the kids deserved to know in person.” Em sniffed, forcing back tears as Dan kissed her forehead. “Come with me. It’s a super quick visit, we’re back in Baku by Tuesday next week. But we need this. And I think you really need a hug from them.”

“I do. I really do. What do they know?” She hated asking, clutching the teddy they’d given her even closer.

“You were sick and there was family stuff going on so you couldn’t be on FaceTime. They didn’t need to know anything else.”

“They don’t need to know anything else.” She was firm, staring up at Dan. “They’re kids, they don’t need to know what happened. All they know is they have an auntie and an uncle who love them so incredibly much.” She nuzzled into Dan more, feeling kisses pushed to her head.

“Exactly.”

The next two days were exhausting, Em not fully fit for the experience. Dan was driving and looking miserable, she was constantly exhausted and felt like she was on the verge of having a meltdown. The noise, the movement, the people were so much. Chloe was great, Scotty there and holding her hand when she needed it in the hospitality. Lance came over to give her a hug on Saturday and she waved at Seb from across the room, getting a grin back in response. Her friends had learned she was there and it was secret meetings in the back of the Aston Martin garage where cameras wouldn’t see. The hugs Mick and Charles gave her made her grin. It wasn’t unusual for the two to pop by Aston, so they could be there in secret. She felt human again.

The practice and race were a wash. Dan wasn’t lapped, which was better than the year before, but she was so fed up of hearing Brown make comments about her boyfriends performance. Give him the car they promised and he’d be able to do something with it. This hunk of junk they’d given him that was designed around his shorter teammate? It wasn’t going to work.

They went back to the apartment that evening, Blake and Michael on the couch with her as she watched Dan change into a suit for a sponsor event. Em offered to go with him, put on a dress and heels, but Dan insisted she shouldn’t do it. She needed to relax and spend time resting, so instead Em kissed him goodbye and waved to Grace and Joe who were accompanying him. She was wrapped in one of the original Ric3 hoodies they’d designed and clutched London the bear as she dozed off. It was one more night until she got on the first flight to Australia and she couldn’t wait.

She woke being lifted off the couch, Dan holding her up and carrying her to the bedroom.

“Huh?” Em asked, still half asleep.

“Just going to bed, Emmy. I got out early and wanted to come home to you.” She filed the question about getting away early to one side, instead focusing on how Dan slipped next to her in the bed and she got to curl up beside him, arms around her as he kissed her forehead before going to sleep with her.

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everythingne · 11 months ago

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out of the woods - ls2 [2]

With a home race that couldn't go better, Dhanishka feels the confidence to let loose. But, Bahrain's post race celebration brings up some confusing feelings Dhanishka definitely won't handle the best. Charles plays the disappointed older brother role very well, Daniel is a bit of an enabler as is Lando, who also wins a bet with McLaren. Also, the FIA makes a weird call.

logan sargeant x ferrari!ex!oc

fc: iffat marash (and other pinterest girlies)

warnings/notes: mentions of past car accidents, drunkeness, a makeout scene, tbh if logan looked at me the way i describe here i would fold oops. conflicting feelings here for miss dubey

(part one) (part three)

Bahrain hasn't even started, my home race hasn't even started, and I already feel like I'm about to snap. I knew coming into this race there was a lot of pressure on me to do well, not to mention how basically everyone I knew and their fucking mother was here, but from Ferrari alone. This was the season they planned to solidify Charles and I next to Red Bull. They'd been secretive about their car, their plans, and whatever, just to hopefully psyche out the other teams.

Personally, I just wanted to win for myself, but thats a whole other story.

When I walk in the race, cameras are on me faster than I can say my name, thousands of eyes watching the only rookie this season as she makes her way into her paddock. Inside the paddock is no better, and the garage can't even be a safe haven as reporters walking the pit lane try to get video of me and Charles greeting eachother.

He's like a bright red beacon of safety admist the chaos of this morning. He hands me a coffee, says it's supposed to be some sort of weird chai thing. It tastes... like slightly more bitter and heavily espresso filled chai. But I drink it anyway because lord knows I need the energy.

"You look stressed, is it the race?" Charles asks after our debriefing, when I'm working on reaction times. I keep working at whacking the buttons, eyes trained on the center as I also work my periphery.

"I think so." I say, uninterested, and Charles purposefully messes up the game so I look at him with a loud exclamation. He grins, and I get now why Arthur had punched Charles in the arm as a greeting once. He looks like a cat that knows it's done something wrong, but smugly doesn't care. Like my aunt's big brown cat named Porsche.

They'd bought her a 'Porsche' for her birthday that year. Haha.

"What's it actually?" Charles asks when I catch my breath a little, taking a big gulp of water and then sipping on the coffee-chai-thing.

"I talked to Logan after we left the resturant and I can't stop thinking about it." I set down the cup and go to return to the game before Charles grabs my wrist and pulls me back.

"Do you wanna talk about it before the race? Maybe get it out of your system so it doesn't affect you while driving?"

"You're talking like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do." He hums and I huff through my nose, before grabbing both of my drinks when he nods his head back to his drivers room. Probably the only place here we could get privacy. He pops me down on his couch and sits next to me, motioning for me to talk.

I stammer a bit before sighing, “Logan still thinks it’s my fault. He still thinks I had something to do with the accident. And I’m a fucking idiot because I still love him.”

Charles’ eyes widen as I lean forward and huff, rubbing my forehead as I keep talking, “I still love him after three years. And he doesn’t love me back and that hurts but I can’t do anything about it.”

"you still love him?" He asks and I nod, and then hitch forward with a sharp gasp. It's like saying the words out loud have thrown every possible emotion in my face. Anger at him for breaking up, regret for not chasing him, a deep sorrow for the things we'd lost. He had been my first love, something so innocent. I didn't know how I was supposed to live without him.

"I do," I whisper through the lump in my throat, "I love him, but I can't even look at him without feeling sick."

For once with all the issues I've come to tell Charles about, this is one that stumps him. But he wraps an arm around me, pulling him to his side as he rubs his hand along my back and I curl into his touch. I don't exactly cry, but I more so just hyperventilate.

And it takes maybe ten minutes for me to calm down fully and when I do, Charles squeezes my hands.

"No matter what happens, I've got you." He says softly, "just like at dinner, I've got you."

I nod and he hands me a tissue, I fix up my makeup and stand, letting him escort me back out to the garage so we can go get out fireproofs and race suits.

The sun is long set when we start the race, the warm up lap making my nerves spark as my fingers twitch on the steering wheel. I knew Bahrain's track like the backs of my hands, I knew exactly what to expect and what to do and where to go. Starting p8 wasn't terrible, I would've preferred to be higher but I'll take what I can get. In front of me is Yuki, Carlos, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Lando, and Max. With Logan directly behind me and Alex behind him.

I'm not super worried about Alex, but Logan had a pretty similar driving style to me so I worry about him coming and overtaking me. I know I can overtake Yuki, Carlos, and Daniel if I give myself time and risk going wide when it comes to Carlos, but Lando, Oscar and Max will be my biggest competition. Though I'm not sure about Charles, I guess it depends on what we're told on the radio.

Within the first five laps, I've gotten past Yuki and Carlos, but Daniel's giving me a run for my money. Charles even tries helping, but it's no use, and I take my place behind Daniel for the foreseeable future. I don't mind it, holding P6 at the beginning isn't the worst scenario. I just have to wait until people starting going in for tire changes and such, hopefully I'll be able to use that to get around.

Eventually, Daniel understeers and it gives me a perfect opportunity to whip around him and I solidify myself in P5. Oscar's ahead of me, Lando ahead of him, Charles in P2 and then Max holds P1. Charles is fighting him for it and I'm impressed with how we're doing so far.

At some point Logan comes up behind me, I'm only alerted via the radio for half a second before I see him try and push me to the edge of the track. I speed up, purposefully oversteering the turn to knock him off my back.

By the end of the race, I find myself P3 by a goddamn thread. Lando having wing damage making it easier for me to snag around him in one of the last turns. Charles isn't far ahead of me, and Max holds his P1 usual. Lando's P4, Oscar P5, and Logan P6. Everyone else is pretty much scrambled, almost all the racers overtaking someone multiple times throughout the race.

I can't really feel anything under the thrum of my excitement, Charles coming up behind me and lifting me off the ground in celebration as Max laughs from a distance. We're making our way to the stage for the podium, helmets off and a hat secured over my head to block out the sun and my post-race helmet hair.

"Lets go! 'Ishka!" Charles jumps and I laugh, whacking him on the head as he hoists me in the air.

"Congrats, kid." Max grabs the brim of my hat and yanks it down, making me yelp in surprise as Charles sets me down. I fix the brim of my hat while Charles laughs, trying to help me yank down Max's hat too before I'm called to walk up on stage.

The roar of the audience is deafening, the announcement a warble as I take the trophy with a thank you and shook the hand of the woman who gave it to me. I lift it above my head, the noise only growing, and I can't help the satisfied shout that leaves my throat in celebration.

Dipping back into the paddock, I see Logan being ushered away from me by Alex. Even though the sight of him makes my throat close and stomach drop, I try to keep my head up. I try to not let it affect me, but I know it does.

I told Logan the truth. I let him him go because he wanted to go. Nothing Logan did now would change the way my heart ached for him. In F2 I learned quickly to shove my emotions down and never let them escape me, and when I wasn't in the safety of Charles' company, I felt like I had fallen back into that same routine again.

Cold, sharper than a tack, everything rolled right off. I bit my tongue when necessary, fought back only when provoked.

It was nothing like how I had been before Trident. That much was known. But I wasn't about to be used again. Never again.

A few hours later, we're at the hotel Charles is staying in, him laying face first on his bed while I fix up my makeup in a mirror for the upteenth time. Another night out is in order to celebrate the season kickoff, Max inviting Charles and I along with him, Daniel, and Carlos to some sort club I've been to a hundred times already.

Once I've used Charles' bathroom to change into my clothes for the night, I'm wrapping a large Ferrari jacket around myself to be a bit more 'presentable' until we get to the club. I lean into the mirror to check and secure all my jewlery before I make my way out of the bathroom.

Charles looks up from where he's sitting in one of the chairs in the hotel room, his eyes doing a quick once over before he grins and stands up. He's wearing some jeans and a loose black button-up, a gold necklace swinging before settling against his collarbones as he makes his way to my side.

"Revenge dress?" He muses to me with a smirk and I whack his arm with a loud laugh, shaking my head as I walk to grab my purse off the coffee table.

"It wasn't intended to be, but sure." I grin as I take a sip from my wine glass on the table, eyeing the now empty bottle we were using to loosely pregame the night, "Glad to see you've gotten a bit of fashion advice, the polo looks good. If Max is wearing anything Red Bull I'll choke him out."

"I'll help you." Charles laughed and hands me his wallet. I pop it in my purse without thinking, I know it's so I don't run off without him, and I pretend to be annoyed. But the action is sweet.

"We have a little private room with some of the other drivers," Charles grabs our phones off the charges and hands me mine as he pockets his, fixes his hair in some sort of habit, and then looks back to me as he grabs the handle of the door, "So, you can leave your stuff there until we leave."

"Sounds good to me." I follow him out the door, my heels clicking on the tile on the hallway as we move down to where the carpet starts. Charles turns back to me as he walks, watching me dig out my car keys. When I lift my eyes to meet him he scratches his jaw and then speaks.

"Logan's gonna be there. That's fine with you?" Charles asks. I had told him in the garage this morning about my argument with Logan. It had been eating at me, and Charles being ever the observant picked up on my shift in attitude before I did.

"I probably won't even see him, this club is always packed." I reason, even with the private room. I'd spend most of my time at the bar. If I was with my friends, also the dancefloor, but I had a suspicion I wouldn't be doing much dancing tonight.

"You sure?" Charles holds the elevator door open for me, letting me step in and press the button for the lobby. I nod, adjusting my outfit a little bit as I look over at him.

"It's fine, I'm over it." I shrug, looking at myself in the mirrored doors of the elevator and fixing up my hair loosely. I can feel the elevator slowly start to lower and I grin at myself.

Maybe it was the confidence from my win, but I looked good tonight.

"You cried over him this morning and now you're saying you're over it?" Charles hums, thinking back clearly to me frustrated for no reason this morning and his intervention with led to me half-hyperventilating into his chest.

"I got P3 in my first F1 race, Charles. No one can touch me. I'm hot, sexy, and breaking the Ferrari curse." I playfully do a little z-snap that has Charles chuckling as the doors open to the lobby and he brings me out to an awaiting car. This was something else I would never get used to, how we all just kinda casually had luxury vehicles. Now, my parents were well off, my father a CEO and my mother a tailor, and they had plenty of money to give to me and my sister if we needed it. But it hadn't always been that way. So the Ferrari just idling outside the hotel, clearly brought over by Ferrari for Charles and I to drive like once this whole weekend is a shock to me.

He lets me in the back, then gets in the passengers, instructing the driver on where to go while I lean back with a content sigh and watch the streetlights pass.

dhanishkadubey made a new post!

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, and 254k others...

dhanishkadubey: kicking off the start of a wonderful szn. much love to the tifosi 🏎️ ❤️ (📷: @ charlesleclerc)

charlesleclerc: ❤️

danielricciardo: this bitch drinks fireball like water.

dhanishkadubey: ur rlly exposing me like this danny :(?

user1: congrats on p3!!!

oscarpiastri: go dhanishka go !!

user2: tensions rising in the loscar fandom tn

maxverstappen: great start to your rookie year, dhanishka :)

anyadubey: YAAA THATS MY SEXY SISTER!!!

user3: actually in love w her.

When we arrive at the club, the place is already going hard. Early 2000s music pulses from various speakers, the lights flashing to the beat of who I think is Britney Spears mixed with that one song from Saltburn. It's Daniel who greets us in the upstairs room, showing me where to leave my bag and jacket while Charles is escorted off to the side by Pierre and Max. I spot Esteban and Lance chatting idly with Magnussen and some other racers. It's odd combinations tonight, as the grouping strays from the normal clumps of friends, but it means I find myself engrossed in a conversation with Alex and George maybe thirty minutes after getting inside.

"I seriously thought you were gonna be much meaner!" George shouts over the pulsing music and I laugh as he hands me my drink from the bartender. I thank him softly and take a big sip, nodding at the sour taste im expecting from the cocktail.

Catching George's eye, I tease, "Do you want me to be?"

"God no," George waves a hand in my direction with a soft laugh, something playful and almost childlike gleaming in his eyes as he tilts his head, "Carmen's plenty mean to me."

"Oh stop!" Alex scoffs, whacking George's arm, "As if Carmen's little jabs equate to Lily's!"

"Didn't you literally call Lily the doll from Squid Game?" I ask, then pop my straw in my mouth and take a slow sip. Alex freezes as if he's been caught red handed, and George suppresses a giggle.

"Look..." Alex holds up a hand in defense but George and I are laughing too hard to really hear whatever excuse he uses to defend his actions.

"Okay, can I ask you a question, Dhanishka?" Alex asks after we've calmed down, leaning forward on the bar as I settle in my seat with George on my other side. I nod and he swallows and I can see him roll the question through his head. He takes a sip of his drink, swallows, and turns to ask, "If you wanna answer, what exactly happened with you and Logan? 'Cause he's been moping since you got announced to be racing with Ferrari and I might lose my mind if he doesn't knock it off."

"Oh god," I say into my midori sour, taking the bitter drink into my mouth and swallowing it and setting my hand over the cup. George leans over to look, head slightly tilted like a puppy as Alex quickly speaks up.

"If you don't wanna say anything, it's fine, but--"

"--No, no. It's fine Alex," I wave a hand, "uhm, Logan and I started dating when we were racing in Renault, but we'd been kinda... I guess flirty since the end of our formative years and into like secondary school. We were... I was fifteen, so he was seventeen or sixteen at the time? It was just like... puppy love, y'know? Pure and innocent, nothing too serious.

"And, we were both in love and it was nice. It really was nice. But, when that crash happened with Trident, I think something snapped in him. I... the breakup... it came from nowhere. I don't know if it was because he was mad, thinking I had something to do with it, or if he just... didn't know what to do and needed control after Trident took that P2 position from him? I don't know. We hadn't spoken since that day until last night."

"You talked to him last night?" Alex asks with slightly wide eyes and I nod, taking another sip of my drink.

"We argued about it last night while waiting to leave." I sigh, rolling my shoulders as I pop the straw between my lips and take a long slow sip, then speak, "He thought I had something to do with the crash, I told him I didn't, he asked me why I let him leave--which, Alex, feel free to tell him I think that's a dumb fucking question. I wasn't gonna force him to stay if he was unhappy, or if he didn't wanna date anymore. I'm not a monster."

"Wait, wait," George waves a hand to grab my attention and I turn to him with a soft hum, "So is he mad at you?"

"I don't know," I finish off my drink, noticing both George and Alex are not even halfway down their respective drinks, "I can't tell with him. I would completely understand if he was furious about everything, but none of it was my fault. I didn't even know Trident planned to crash into him!"

"I'm gonna try talking to him," Alex looks over at someone to the right of me and I don't have to look to know he means Logan's there. I nod, sip my drink, and excuse myself to go back to the room. George escorts me up there, to make sure I'm fine, and then leaves me to Daniel who grins.

"You've had something to drink, right?" He asks and I nod, but happily join him and Lando at the bar for shots of various alcohols. And I end up drinking a few glasses of soju back to back with Max at one point, introducing him and Checo to different flavors while Daniel laughs at Max's shock over how everything just tastes like a slightly sour juice. I'm finishing my fourth glass of soju when I start to feel woozy. Taking a water from the bartender, I count the drinks I've had in my head and roughly equate them to about a handle of alcohol.

Lando orders a final round of shots for us, Fireball burning down my throat.

"Danny!" I call to the Australian, who turns in a full circle before realizing wher eI am. He nods and steps closer so I don't have to shout.

"The bathrooms right there," I point to a hallway and Daniel nods, "Can you grab my stuff and I'll meet you guys by the door?"

"Yeah, just be quick! Text me if you need anything." He squeezes my wrist and I nod, slipping away and down the stairs that lead tot he dark bathrooms. Once I'm done, I step out into the hall looking down at my phone when I slip on water pooled by the door. Or what I hope is water.

A hand juts out, catching me by the waist and tugging me forward so I'm no longer falling backwards. The firm hand is familiar, and when I glance up to thank the man who caught me I make eye contact with Logan. I resist the urge to make some rude comment and thank him softly instead.

"Are you gonna tell everyone about us dating?" He asks instead and I scoff.

"Are you gonna start a fight every time I see you?" I rebuke, and then shrug, "Alex and George asked. And if I said no, they could just look it up. I didn't say any apecifics, just the bulk."

Logan looks a little relieved at that, almost like he was nervous about their reactions if they knew every little thing that we'd done. Truth be told, puppy love was the best way to describe us back then. Stolen chaste kisses, giddy smiles when holding hands, little meaningful gifts, late night texts that led to sleepy smiles the next day. I was sure he'd had something more... mature after he'd broken it off. I had rationalized in my head that was why he broke it off. I'd never know the real reason, I wasn't going to ask.

"You..." Logan finally lets go of my waist, and in the low light I see his eyes sweep over me with a look I want to decipher. I've lost the key to his brain, and I know I won't be finding it any time soon.

"You look as beautiful as the day I left you, more so now... but," He laughs, shaking his head, "Sorry, I had too much to drink. I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't." I agree, but a tiny smile curls at my lips, "But thank you."

Logan looks at me for a long moment and I return the gaze, our eyes spelling out stories of his hands carding through my hair, laying on a blanket on the roof of his London apartment and listening to music in shared earbuds, us cheering on Oscar when he'd asked Lily out and celebrating with him after.

He was so much of my past, and somehow I found that I wished he could fit into my future.

"Can I ask one thing?" Logan says, the music pulsing above us louder now, making his voice get swallowed by the music. I step closer to hear him as I nod, throat dry as trepidation rolls across my skin, his lips part, and it takes a second for him to ask, "Can we not fight? I don't think I can ever see you look angry at me again, I've been replaying our argument outside the restaurant for days now.

"I don't wanna leave our past behind us and move on," He continues when I gape at him, "I loved you back then, maybe I still do now or maybe its the fact I'm so drunk the world is spinning, but you were such a big piece of my life. I've known you since we were kids, Dhanishka I can't let go of you now that I've got you back."

His heart is being held out for me, hands shaking as he stares at me, and I just stare back. Just friends, I tell myself. That's all we'll be.

"You know," I start, and I can feel its my heart and blood alcohol content leading the conversation and not my brain, "I do think I still love you--or maybe its the fact I'm just as drunk as you are, if not worse. You made my life, you made me who I am, from the stupid jokes to the little kisses behind our garages, or sneaking into eachother drivers rooms to nap..."

I swallow my pride, "I won't let go of you this time."

He grins and on wobbly legs he takes me into a hug, I let his arms wrap around my waist, hands warm against my skin as I throw my arms around his neck. The stairs squeak behind us, and we step back, but I don't see anyone come down. When I turn back to him, I find he's still looking, and as the music shakes the walls and rolls into my skin, I find one of my hands cupping his jaw. His breath cuts short, lips parting as his tongue darts out.

It's so dumb how easily I fall back in love with Logan Sargeant.

He dips down before I can think to pull back, slotting his lips against mine, and I welcome it. His grip on me tightens as he tugs me back in, bunching fabric under his fingernails as he gasps when I nip his lip.

"We shouldn't do this." He gasps between a kiss he drives, only to be cut off by me stepping closer to keep our lips dancing. He turns us, pressing my shoulders to a wall, cornering me underneath him, and I bite back a whine in the back of my throat.

"We shouldn't," I agree, and gasp when he moves closer, his hands sliding down to guide my hips towards him as his knee knocks mine apart. He steps one foot between mine, leaning into me, and I can't help the whine he forces out of my lips this time. And when I see his satisfied grin, I can't help the tiny bashful smile that pokes at my own lips.

"You're an asshole." I breathe against his lips, the club pulses above us, footsteps creaking on the stairs, but in that moment we dont feel the pull of the crowd singing and dancing. His hands grip my waist through the thin fabric of my black dress, pulling me in, and I feel everything. His chest hits mine with his sharp breath in, our eyes finding each other and holding a gaze I feel as bitter as the tequila in my stomach.

"I know," He pulls me in by wrapping his arm around my waist, hand finding my jaw and tugging me impossibly closer. Our lips meet again, all heat and fervor and my hands find the back of his head, knocking our teeth when I tug him in after he breaks the kiss.

22R stains his lips and I see it on his teeth when he grins, memories flicker through my eyes. He tastes like expensive whiskey and rum, a hint of shitty bottled beer taps my tonsils when I swallow. He tastes like everything I should run from and yet, I crave more.

"Dhanishka!" Charles calls for me somewhere in the club, voice loud against the music, and I step back. Reaching out to grab my wrist, Logan pulls me in once more, his thumb runs along my lower lip, fixing the smudged lipstick in the dark, dingy bathroom hall. I don't know what to say, I don't know if this is a moment where I'm even supposed to say anything.

"Danny!" Daniel shouts, coming to the hall of the bathroom and I push Logan back into the men's room and slam the door shut before he can say anything.

"There you are!" Charles calls and I wave, turning to them.

"Sorry," I giggle, the warmth of the kiss on my face as I feel the ghosts of Logan's hands on my skin, "I think I had a little too much."

"So did Max," Daniel snorts, flicking on his phone flashlight so I can properly see the stairs as I make my way over to where they stand halfway down them. I hear the men's room door creak and turn back to catch Logan's eye as Charles grabs my wrist and carts me upstairs.

We share a tiny grin between us, charged by drunken decisions, it's our moment. No one else sees. Or if they do, they don't say a word But Charles' grip on my wrist tightens, and I have an odd feeling we might not have been as alone as we thought we were in that hallway.

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@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant smau #ls2 fic #ls2 smau #nicole wrote this

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visionofvoid · 2 years ago

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Better To Be Safe Than Sorry - Daniel Ricciardo

Summary: two australians dressed by the same designer for the 2023 met gala. surely its not all just chance?

Warnings: shameless flirting

Pairings: daniel ricciardo x plussize!oc

Word count: 2.3k

She couldn’t believe her eyes when she looked back at her reflection of the tinted car door, the dress hugging her in all the right ways and accentuating her natural curves. She had never seen this body representation at something so prestigious such as the Met Gala save for a few household names such as Ashley Graham. She couldn’t believe it when she first received the invitation on behalf of designer Thom Browne who reached out via a handwritten letter and pitched his idea to her. At first the Australian actress was very apprehensive; was she famous enough for an event like this? She wasn’t used to dressing up like this, so incredibly fancy and she had only just become noticed since her role in Daisy Jones and The Six. She even had a whole team do her makeup and hair for her which she wasn’t used to unless she was about to film a scene.

She expected the tag stitched into the dress to scratch her back but instead it sat flush. It only had Thom’s name, her name and the Met Gala handwritten and the small gesture meant a lot to her surprisingly, it was a garment made just for her plump body. It was organised so all of Thom’s guests were arriving at the same time to showcase his work in a cohesive way, and it meant that organising a group shot was just that little bit easier. Stepping out of the car she was blinded by how lit up the walkway was, a cream colour leading her and ushering her towards the famous steps of the Met and towards the screaming crowds. She wasn’t entirely sure who else was dressed by Thom so she was excited to see and meet some famous faces as well as by other designers.

“Just follow me.” Lucille was met with a smile from some volunteers who rushed to both her side. She wasn’t overly excited to be walking in heels but she had a lot of practice to make sure she wouldn’t fall. The dress, however, hugged her thighs enough that it meant she had to take small and careful steps. She sucked in a deep breath, seeing the ‘TB’ embroidered between her breasts on the bodice move with her breathing and she plastered on a smile.

With each and every step Lucille found that the shouts of the photographers grew louder and the fans screaming in anticipation for the next guest to arrive. There was a little bit of a wait for the celebrities to allow a steady flow at the base of the footsteps and Lucille found herself beaming at Thom Browne when she saw his familiar face talking with presumably his other guests.

“Ah, my dear, my muse!” It seemed as if she was the last of his guests to arrive, eight more heads turning adorned in black and white, tulle and lace, camellias and different patterns. They all looked fabulous and as Lucille scanned briefly over their faces she found that it all suited them. Thom rushed over, embracing Lucille quickly and then pulled away, his arms on her bare shoulders as he stood back to admire his work. “Stunning. Absolutely stunning.” Lucille found her rosy coloured cheeks flush at the compliments but thanked the designer nonetheless.

Daniel was incredibly privileged to say the least when he received a handwritten letter from Thom Browne regarding an invitation to the Met Gala. He had watched Lewis attend and will admit, he found it to be a guilty pleasure to keep up with it every year. He admired the hard work the designers put in and the fuss about it. Now that his main focus was not on racing full time, it was a no-brainer that he would attend the Met Gala. He was all smiles when he first met Thom and that all continued to him actually seeing his suit for the first time to arrive second for the designer. A few months out of a long term relationship and he was thriving, he was just in awe as he looked around the tunnel leading to the waiting area. One by one the remainder of Thom’s guests arrived and piled up behind him, compliments flowing through the air, everyone's agents taking care of phones, bags and other items.

The naturally extroverted racer enjoyed meeting new faces, happily discussing his projects and the projects of others while they slowly moved forward. His back was turned as he anxiously looked past the people in front of him when Lucille arrived. The two were familiar with one another naturally being some of the few Australians that were famous outside of their home nation however when Thom gushed over her Danile found himself turning around. She looked absolutely stunning. The two had never crossed paths with one another before but Daniel was kicking himself over it now. She exuded confidence, kindness and warmth. He could tell she was nervous but as Thom greeted her she seemed to calm herself.

Lucille blushed as Thom showered her in compliments, some of the other guests commenting on her outfit, her makeup and her work in Daisy Jones. It was her first big event she had attended outside of small premiers where she played a menial side character; this was all quite different and overwhelming, in a good way. Lucille spotted Daniel Ricciardo in a black suit with delicate black ruffles that added different hues to the suit. Her body felt warm and fuzzy when he gave her a warm smile. She grew up in Melbourne and attended a fair few Melbourne GP’s growing up so she was quite familiar with the sport and with the man herself. He was easily top twenty of her male celebrity crushes. Okay, maybe top ten. Top five?

“Where is Rhonda?” Thom questioned, knowing that Lucille was usually accompanied by her manager.

“In active labour. I will be hopping up the steps while she’s pushing.” Lucille joked though Thom could tell she was nervous. Daniel felt guilty for eavesdropping but instead found an opening to introduce himself. He apologised as he pushed himself past Teyana Taylor and Jenna Ortega, his eyes focused solely on Lucille. One by one they slowly got called to make their way to the main area where all the hustle and bustle began and there was no set order so Daniel slowly held himself back. Thom moved forward to introduce his pieces to the Met Gala and hype up his team.

Lucille played with her nails as the team slowly dwindled down into just herself and Daniel and their volunteers got ready. Daniel went first and then it was just Lucille with the next guests arriving behind her and soon she was called up. Her steps were small as she held her head high, walking past several other volunteers who seemed to gush over her look. A few metres later she found herself surrounded by photographers and celebrities, fans turning to look at her and call out her name.

Daniel remained nearby Lucille, feeling somewhat wanting to introduce himself formally or be near her presence. Everyone else had a team of agents or PR representatives to help them pose or engage in interviews with certain people but being a new actress on the scene meant that she didn’t quite have her own team. At least being in a suit meant that it was easier to navigate the stairs leading into the Met.

Lucille found herself being called over to a young interviewer and smiled when the interviewer seemed surprised when she made her way over.

“Lucille Craig, I loved you in Daisy Jones, you look absolutely stunning on the carpet tonight and for your first Met Gala. Can I ask, who is dressing you and what was the inspiration?” It was incredibly loud all around her but at that moment her sole focus was on the interviewer.

“Thank you so much! I’m dressed by Thom Browne. We both collaborated and drew inspiration from Claudia Schiffer’s Spring 1993 Chanel bride look. I am thrilled to have been invited and to see so many different looks on different bodies and people. It’s a bit overwhelming.” Lucille let out a chuckle at the end of her sentence and patiently waited for the next part of the interview.

“We all look forward to seeing what's next for you. It was a pleasure to meet you and I hope you enjoy your night. Thank you!” Lucille thanked the woman before she was ushered in by the volunteers, the stairs coming closer and closer. She was growing more and more nervous but tried to keep herself contained. She smiled at some photographers, said some hellos to other celebrities and continued on her way.

Daniel smiled through a couple of interviews though he kept himself open towards the carpet, his eye always landing on Lucille from a distance. He answered questions to do with his career and his outfit to the best of his abilities but his mind kept going back to Lucille.

“Do you need some assistance, Miss Craig?” The Met Gala volunteer questioned Lucille as she made her way to the dreaded stairs. Lucille went to protest before she felt someone slide her arm through theirs causing her to snap her head to the stranger.

“No, no. I’ve got it from here, thank you.” Daniel spoke, offering a tight smile to the volunteer as Lucille’s hand clutched onto his bicep. The volunteer nodded, walking a few steps ahead of the duo. The small gesture seemed to spark excitement among the spectators and photographers as well as Thom as he stood at the top of the stairs, beaming down on the duo. Lucille sucked in a breath as she lifted one leg, testing the integrity of the dress and sighed with relief when it remained a couple of inches below her behind. “You’ve got this.” Daniel mumbled just loud enough for Lucille to hear, the girl grateful for the support. She gained confidence with each and every step she took, photographers calling out their names to get a pose. This would without a doubt cause some rumours the next day.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do this.” Lucille spoke back, turning her head over her shoulder with her hair following elegantly as she looked back. They were about halfway up the staircase now.

“How could a gentleman like me not help a fellow beautiful Australian? Would be blasphemous.” Daniel joked, Lucille looking up at him briefly before letting out a rather unfeminine laugh. Daniel loved being a joker, he loved making people laugh however this felt different. He suddenly cared about her opinion, he cared about what she found funny.

They made it to the top of the stairs where a number of celebrities were posing for higher end magazines or being interviewed by much more important people. Lucille was fine to walk on her own now but found herself not ready to pull away from Daniel’s arm, and he wasn’t putting up much of a fight either. The two slowly walked with the small crowd on the carpet, both unsure of what to do next. The other guests for Thom Browne were scattered about with the designer standing even further along where guests were to be greeted by Anna Wintour herself and engage in a quick hello before moving along to tour the museum and potter around before the formal dinner.

“There’s so many people. Anne Hathaway, Jared Leto as a fucking furry, oh my God! Is that Ashley Graham?” Daniel admired this side of Lucille, or this side of anyone. Lucille had quite a following, especially after her role in the TV adaptation of Daisy Jones and the Six so she hadn’t quite warmed up to being a loved celebrity just yet that was grouped in the same calibre as these well known movie stars, singers and models. Lucille went to apologise for her behaviour, preparing to call it cringe worthy when she was interrupted by Anne Hathaway turning around, her eyes widening slightly and her perfectly poised smile turning into something genuine. “Daniel, please tell me Anne is looking at us, the Anne Hathaway?” Daniel went to respond but he found himself leading Lucille towards the famous actress.

“Daniel Riccardo! I’m a big fan of F1.” Daniel was taken by surprise that she knew who he was and then she turned to Lucille. “I loved your role in Daisy Jones, you were absolutely fabulous. You’re definitely a force to be reckoned with. I must get going, enjoy the night you love birds!” Anne bid them a farewell, bringing Lucille in for a brief kiss on the cheek and hug before rushing off. Daniel nor Lucille mentioned the last statement out of Anne’s mouth and instead they were both taken back by the interaction.

“She knew who I was.” It was like Lucille’s hand was a part of Daniel’s arm. It just felt so natural and conversation, no matter how small and lacklustre it was between the two, came naturally. Daniel wanted to get to know the girl a little bit more.

“She would be a fool to not know you are, Lucille.” Daniel flirted shamelessly, grinning as he noticed her cheeks flush darker than her rosy makeup. Lucille noticed she was still holding onto his arm even though they were no longer tackling steps. Had Daniel been too nice to tell her that her hand was on his arm. God, what a blunder.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t even realise.” Daniel only chuckled in response, pulling her back towards him. It was as if the two of them weren’t surrounded by flashing lights and people shouting, that it was just the two of them. It just felt natural for the both of them.

“Don’t be silly. I’m sure there’ll be more stairs. Better to be safe than sorry.”

#daniel ricciardo imagines #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x oc #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 smut #formula one x reader #formula one x oc #formula one imagine #formula one smut

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yourfavouritemimic · 9 days ago

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"HI HI HELLO!!! INTERACT INTERACT!! I DON'T BITE!"

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DC mainline universe/ also StarVerse OC!! Daniel Napier, also known as Mimic! The illegitimate son of the Joker! That's why he's 'Mimic', because he's mimicking his father!! He can also be found on Instagram @yourfavouritemimic too!!!

Clown aspects in his design are relevant, and all art posted is drawn by me, the admin!! I'm 17, British 😢 and my main account is @stxrfaced !!!

It's also important to note, I write Mimic with a slight slur in his words! His voice and lungs are lightly wrecked from constant exposure to dangerous gaseous chemicals and it can slightly show in his speech!! It's not a dialect thing!

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Character BIO!!

Name- Daniel Napier

Age- [14-19, normally around 15 though!] He's around the same age as the current Teen Titans (The Damian Wayne Robin era one, comicverse- after the new 52! Rebirth to present era!! I think !)

Pronouns- He/they/it

MBTI- ENTP

Talents- ⋆Biochemistry! He decided to broaden the chemistry only vibes his father instilled! Biology adds another ~fun~ or funny layer! ⋆Talking! A real chatterbox! His comedic influence is his dad though. So that's self explanatory.

Likes- Making new chemicals, talking, hot cocoa, funfairs/theme parks, and schadenfreude?

Dislikes- Waiting, boring people, snitches, being yelled at, and schadenfreude?

Personality- A childish boy who lives for fun and excitement. Who needs morals when you can make things more interesting? He plays up his intelligence and sense of humor as his only traits. The Mimic presents himself as someone you absolutely need the help of, someone you should totally put up with- despite his borderline cruel antics. He doesn't seem to understand the rules of society, but covers this up by overselling the naivety that can often be associated with it.

Height- Around 5'4

Eye colour- Brown- the Blue or Green are always contacts!

Hair colour- Green!!! (Brown actually, he dyes it though. He claims he dyes the brown, but that's not true. He claims the green stripes are real and the brown and purple are dyed.)

#dc oc rp #dc oc blog #dc oc #dc oc art #dc comics #dc rp blog #dc rp #the joker #dc joker #the joker's son #mimic

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cetaitlaverite · 7 months ago

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Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

link to the masterlist is here hope you like hehe

16. Lots of Things

Freddie was dreaming about Rosie again. She’d been dreaming about Rosie a lot recently. Mainly dreaming of kissing him. Sometimes dreaming of more. Her steamier dreams made her blush so hard on waking she had to take a cold shower instead of a warm one and had to avoid him at least until lunchtime because she knew she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.

Freddie had never felt so shy about all of this. When she’d been doing it all for the first time Daniel had been the one taking the lead. He’d kissed her on their third date and hadn’t stopped. They’d made love on their one year anniversary. Everything they’d ever done had been because Daniel had taken the lead and Freddie had been able to trust him to know when she was ready.

Now, Freddie was deciding.

She thought she might have been ready.

If her dreams were anything to go by, she was bursting at the seams with readiness.

Today’s dream was making her entire body warm. Her cheek was pressed to her crossed forearms as she draped herself over her desk and it was a good thing, too, because the sheer temperature of her skin might have set fire to the papers she’d fallen asleep poring over. Her shoes had long since been kicked off and lay strewn further into the room. Her stockinged feet rubbed together beneath the desk.

“Rosie,” she was mumbling in her sleep, over and over again. “Rosie.”

A knock at the door had her slipping drowsily out of slumber. A second, louder knock had her shooting upright, instantly wide awake as she realised where she was and what she’d been doing. “Fred?”

“Rosie!” she exclaimed, aghast.

As quickly as she could, Freddie smoothed down her hair, rolled down her jacket sleeves, and hurried to open the door to him. At the last minute she remembered to check the sides of her mouth for dribble - she was all good - and when she flung the door open she was sure she looked like a deer in headlights but at least she didn’t look sleepy.

Rosie grinned at her. “Have you been asleep?”

Freddie tipped her head back and groaned. “How did you know?”

He was still grinning - trying not to laugh, now, too - when she tipped her head back down. “You’ve got a little…” He gestured to one of his under eyes but before Freddie could move to wipe away what was presumably smudged mascara he cupped her cheek and did it himself. “There,” he said, satisfied it was gone. “All better.”

When he looked at her he always looked so deep into her eyes. It was always a little bit disarming. Charming and endearing but disarming, mainly because of their startling, beautiful blue. But after what she’d just been dreaming about, his intense gaze was too much for her to bear.

Freddie stepped away from him with an awkward cough. “So what brings you here?”

Rosie followed her gesture and walked further into her office. She closed the door behind him. This was how her dream had started too, she couldn’t help but notice, although he’d been the one shutting the door.

Knock it off, she demanded of herself. She wiped her clammy hands down her skirt.

“Didn’t see you at lunch,” Rosie said in response to her question, oblivious to her turmoil. He held up a brown paper bag folded over at the top as he moved to pet Meatball’s head where he was dozing on the leather couch in the corner of the office, “so I thought I’d better see to it myself that you’re looked after. I know you well enough by now to know you can’t be trusted to do it yourself.”

Freddie’s eyebrows furrowed. “I missed lunch?”

“You did,” Rosie confirmed, crossing the room once more to place the bag down on her desk. He turned to lean against it, facing her as she lingered in the doorway. “You been working hard?”

Freddie smiled, fiddling with one of her sleeves. “Something like that.”

Rosie laughed. “Other than the sleeping, I mean. Must’ve been a hefty workload that got you to fall asleep on the job.”

“Ha,” Freddie said, shaking her head. She took a few steps towards him just so they wouldn’t have to speak so loudly and risk people passing by in the hallway beyond the door overhearing. “I haven’t been very productive today, in all honesty.”

Rosie’s eyebrows hopped up in surprise. “Why not?” It wasn’t like her to not be thoroughly absorbed in her work.

Freddie shrugged, looking away from him and setting her eyes on the edge of her desk. “Distracted.”

“By what?”

Freddie scoffed, turning her eyes back to him. “What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

Rosie smiled. “Just trying to get you to let me inside your head. I kinda like it in there.”

“Only kind of?” she teased.

“You don’t let me see it that often.”

“For good reason.”

“What’s the reason today?”

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” she blurted before she could stop herself. He had such a talent, she thought, for making people feel safe and vulnerable at the same time. His was a gentle presence but an authoritative one, too, and he could make her want to spill everything to him with just a few well-phrased, well-delivered questions.

It was the lawyer in him, she supposed. And she hated that he was so good at it.

Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Those pretty blue eyes of his were just a little bit wider than they usually were. She was sure she wouldn’t have noticed if she didn’t spend so much of her time staring at them.

Freddie could feel the fierce burning in her cheeks and prayed her powder covered it. There was nothing she could do now to take the confession back. Any attempts to cover her tracks would be obvious lies.

Well, Freddie thought indignantly, that’s your own bloody fault for poking your nose in where I tried to keep it out, Rosie.

Rosie was so caught off guard by her admission that he couldn’t even force himself to try to be cool about it. “What?”

Freddie tipped her head back, covering both of her eyes with her hands. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Finally, he laughed. “You were dreaming about me,” he said eventually.

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” Freddie corrected him. “I didn’t say today specifically.”

“But before I came in,” Rosie said. “Today. You were -”

“God. Yes.” Freddie huffed.

Rosie laughed again. “Someone’s cranky.”

“Someone woke me up,” she retorted.

“Was it a nice dream?”

“It was -” She faltered. “What do you mean by that?”

Rosie was grinning roguishly, borderline smirking. “What was I doing in your dream?”

There was that fire in Freddie’s cheeks again. She had barely managed to put out the last one and here was the next, coming on strong with a vengeance. “Oh, you know,” she said, removing her hands from her eyes if only so they could fiddle. “Just. Things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah.” Freddie nodded. “Things.” She didn’t know what to do with herself. Would she be giving herself away if she put more distance between them? Did she even want more distance between them?

“I’ve been dreaming about you too.”

Freddie’s eyes shot to Rosie. She searched his face for a few moments, trying to discern if he was making fun of her, but it didn’t seem like he was. “You have?” she asked tentatively.

Rosie nodded.

“What do I do when you dream about me?”

Rosie shrugged. “Oh, you know. Things.”

Freddie pointed a finger at him, taking two steps forwards. “That’s not fair.”

He was grinning. “Why not? You didn’t tell me.”

“You forced the information out of me,” Freddie protested. “You brought it up of your own accord.”

“So you get your privacy and I don’t get mine?” His eyes were dancing. Now he was making fun of her.

Freddie laughed quietly. “What do I do in your dreams that would warrant privacy, Rosie?”

His eyes sparkled. “Lots of things.”

He was still leaning against her desk. She was now standing right in front of him. Things had never really been like this between them. He was always unfailingly sweet, her Rosie, all charming and boyish and shy. Freddie had always known he was attracted to her - he didn’t try to hide it, in fact - but such brazen flirting was new to them. Freddie wasn’t sure how far he would let her push him.

She took another tentative step towards him.

“Do you like dreaming about me, Rosie?” This was a desperate attempt to take the power back and he probably knew it. She just didn’t know if he’d let her.

He tracked her movement with darkened eyes. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Freddie hummed. “Do I?” One step closer. Then another. She had to tilt her chin up to look at him now, even though he was leaning. That aftershave he wore - she could never get it right in her dreams. It was always so much more intoxicating in real life.

He was close enough to touch. She desperately wanted to. She wanted to run a hand over his chest, over his shoulders, over his arms. Bury her hands in his hair the way she had been before he’d woken her up.

Rosie swallowed hard.

Freddie watched, mesmerised, as he let her have the upper hand.

“Don’t play with me, Fred,” he whispered.

She realised then that he was expecting her to bail out. To panic and back away and close herself off to him, as she had been known to do when she got too far ahead of herself and realised at the last moment that she wasn’t ready.

But not now. She was ready now. He couldn’t have known it but she was. And the fact that he’d indulged her flirting without expecting anything out of it, the little darling, not even a kiss - he was so precious, so sweet and patient and kind. He deserved a reward for taking care of her and never expecting anything in return.

Freddie took one final step towards him until she was standing between his legs. She could feel the heat coming off of him. She lifted a hand and rested it gently against one of his cheeks. Smiled as he leaned into it. Their eyes never left each other.

“I’m not playing with you, Rosie,” she breathed.

He was frozen, maybe, or else giving her the reins. He didn’t move but let her do whatever she wanted, touch him however she wanted. She smiled, swiping her thumb gently back and forth across his cheek, before reaching with her other hand for one of his and fastening it to her waist. “One hand here,” she mumbled to herself.

One corner of Rosie’s lips quirked up as he watched her work.

“One hand here,” she went on, removing her hand from his face to put his other hand on the centre of her back.

Freddie smiled, raking her eyes slowly up his body. “And my hands,” she mumbled, considering him, “will go here,” she placed one hand on his chest, “and here,” she placed the other on the back of his head, the prime position to run it through his curls when he finally, eventually, kissed her.

Their eyes found each other again without having to try. Both sets were wide, with blown pupils and fluttering eyelashes. Freddie’s lips were tingling. Was he going to make her take the lead on the rest, too?

No. He wasn’t. He used the leverage the position of his hands gave him to tug her flush against him until she was leaning against him as much as he was leaning against her desk. He tilted his head down, his eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips, and she tilted hers up, watching him in anticipation.

“Fred,” Rosie breathed, so close she could feel his breath on her lips.

Freddie let out an involuntary little whimper from the back of her throat. She tilted her chin up just to get closer.

“Freddie,” Jack Kidd of the air exec said as he barged in without knocking. “I got - Jesus Christ! In front of the dog?!”

“We weren’t doing anything!” Freddie cried, jumping a foot in the air and then away from Rosie. “We were just - well - I just had - I fell asleep and then -”

Jack cut her off. “I cannot stress to you enough how much I do not want to know.”

Rosie rubbed his jaw as he turned his eyes on Freddie. If he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure whether what came out would be a laugh or a scream.

“Here’s the next set of transcripts you asked for,” Jack said, holding up the file in his hand. “Croz wanted me to tell you he wants to discuss - you know what? You find Croz and talk to him yourself. Jesus Christ. You two can’t keep your eyes off each other even when you’ve been walked in on.”

Against her better judgement, Freddie dragged her eyes away from Rosie and back to Jack, stifling a laugh. She had to press her hand to her mouth to do it but it was the best she could do.

“Sorry, Jack,” she said from behind her hand.

“Not as sorry as I am,” Jack said. “Jesus fucking Christ. They don’t pay me enough to deal with this shit.” He took a few steps into the office until he was close enough to toss the folder onto Freddie’s desk, then turned to leave. He kicked one of her shoes, lying in his path, as he went, scoffing.

“Sorry, Jack,” Rosie said from behind Freddie.

Jack threw up a hand in acknowledgement of this before leaving and slamming the door behind him.

Freddie and Rosie stared at each other in silence as they listened to Jack’s retreating footsteps. Unfortunately, they had not heard these footsteps on his approach.

Freddie broke first. Still with her hand against her mouth, the giggles all but sputtered out of her. Rosie’s laughter followed right behind.

“Jesus Christ! In front of the dog?!” Freddie imitated Jack in a poor attempt at an American accent. She crossed the room to Meatball and crouched before him, running gentle fingers over his head. “Meatball, honey, have we scarred you for life?” She had giggles pouring out of her mouth every other second.

Rosie laughed. “I bet he’s seen worse. Lived in the men’s huts before you got him, didn’t he?”

Freddie fussed over Meatball a little while longer, cupping his face in her hands and kissing his head before rising to her full height again.

“You should eat something now,” Rosie said as Freddie turned back to him. He gestured to the bag of food he’d come up here to deliver and since forgotten about, accepting that their moment had passed.

“What if I’m not hungry?”

“I don’t recall asking if you were hungry,” Rosie said with laughter in his eyes. “But I do recall telling you to eat.”

“I outrank you,” Freddie pointed out.

Rosie scoffed. “Eat.”

Freddie sighed. “What did you bring me?”

Lots of things, she found. Various ingredients to make a sandwich, various options of fruit. Basically whatever had been on offer and was transportable in a paper bag.

Rosie sat with her while she ate quietly, trying things at her insistence every now and again even though he himself had had many of them already for his own lunch. He’d brought some snacks for Meatball, too, who ate them all readily and then demanded more. Rosie grinned and scruffed his head, then sighed as he pushed himself to his feet. “I should get going.”

Freddie frowned. “But you just got here.”

Rosie grinned. “I’ve been here for an hour.”

“Right,” Freddie said. “So you just got here.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, smiling as he withdrew. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

Freddie smiled. “If you’re lucky.”

Rosie frowned at her. “If only for Meatball’s sake instead of your own, keep track of time and come to dinner, Fred.”

She huffed overdramatically. “Fine. You’ll see me at dinner.”

A triumphant smile spread across his face. “Lemonade or wine at the club tonight?”

Freddie grinned. So she was being rewarded for making public appearances now. “Neither,” she told him. “I’m having a sleepover with Mils and Jem, remember?”

“Right.” Rosie rubbed his eyes. She had told him that.

“Don’t go dancing with any pretty girls in my absence,” Freddie teased him, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

Rosie raised both eyebrows in a comical impression of shock. “There are other pretty girls?”

“Shut up,” Freddie told him, laughing.

He was grinning that stupid grin he did when he was amusing himself. “I’ve never seen any other pretty girls,” he continued his act. “I was under the impression you were the only one.”

Freddie scoffed. “That’s your oversight, not mine. Don’t tell me you never kissed any pretty American girls before coming over here.”

“Well.” He shrugged, clicking his tongue. “I’ve kissed some girls in my time. They weren’t pretty the way you’re pretty.”

“And in what way am I pretty?” Freddie wondered, giggling.

“You’re the prettiest thing I ever saw,” he told her. His sincerity was disarming as much as it was unbearably adorable.

His mouth was still open, a new set of words, undoubtedly compliments, starting to tumble out, when Crosby came barging in, also without knocking.

“Fred - oh, hi, Rosie - Fred, I wanted to talk to you about these flight plans -”

“I’m gonna go,” Rosie said, ducking his chin to hide his exasperated laughter. Clearly, her office was not the place for them to be flirting. “I’ll see you at dinner, Fred.”

Freddie was laughing to herself as she watched him retreat, heat creeping up his cheeks. He inclined his head in goodbye to Croz and then eased the door shut behind him.

Croz glanced between the closed door and Freddie, eyebrows starting to rise. “Did I miss something?”

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