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thef1diary · 2 days ago

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Royally Fucked | Five

— Unresolved Tensions

series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

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The night air was cool against Juliette’s skin as she and Daniel slipped out of the hotel’s back exit. The dimly lit alley allowed them to escape discreetly. His hand was a firm but gentle guide on her back, steering her toward the waiting car. He had coordinated every detail of their exit with precision, ensuring no eyes were on them.

Daniel opened the passenger door for her, his gaze scanning their surroundings with a practiced eye. The secondary security team had already cleared the area, and their vehicle was positioned out of sight from the main road. Juliette slid into the car, her heart still racing from the night’s events. The moment Daniel closed the door and circled to the driver’s side, she felt a slight but palpable shift in the air. The tension was thick, but it wasn’t directed solely at her.

As they securely pulled away from the hotel, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Daniel’s eyes darted frequently to the rearview mirror, checking for any signs of pursuit. Every turn, every streetlight passed was measured, as if he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind to ensure they remained unseen.

Despite a security team being prepared and stationed to assist, Daniel made the decision that only he and Juliette would go to a secondary location. The fewer people involved, the less chance of drawing unwanted attention. His decision was firm, rooted in the need to keep her as safe and inconspicuous as possible. Instead, the team would handle Vincent and secure the area, but the immediate priority was getting Juliette out without a trace.

Juliette sat in silence, her hands clasped in her lap. She could sense the frustration simmering beneath Daniel’s calm exterior. The quiet in the car was thick, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional click of Daniel’s phone as he coordinated their next steps. He had always been attentive, quick with a joke or a reassuring word, but tonight, he was different—colder, more distant.

The silence between them grew heavier with each passing mile. She had slowly but surely started becoming accustomed to the sound of Daniel’s voice, to the comfort it brought in empty silences and tense situations. But now, the absence of his usual warmth was disconcerting.

Unable to bear it any longer, Juliette finally broke the silence. “Daniel…” she began, her voice tentative, almost unsure of itself. She glanced over at him, hoping for a response that would break the icy barrier that had formed between them.

His eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond, not even with a glance in her direction. The weight of his silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension.

Juliette tried again, her tone a little firmer this time, though still tinged with uncertainty. “I know I should’ve stayed in the room, but I… I just couldn’t sit still, not after what happened.”

Daniel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but he still said nothing, his focus on the road unwavering. His silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the steady flow of conversation they usually shared.

The silence from his end stung, feeling like a punishment and perhaps it was—one she would have to endure until he deemed it necessary to speak again. With him so withdrawn, she felt adrift, unsure of how to navigate the tension between them.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Daniel spoke. “Your Highness, leaving the room wasn’t the issue,” he said, his tone low yet firm. “You’re allowed to do anything you like. You’re the princess. But I wish you had told me, I wish you had let me accompany you.”

Juliette’s heart sank a little at his words, but she remained silent, letting him continue.

“Security isn’t just about what happens during an event,” Daniel went on, his voice tightening with the weight of his concern. “It’s everything before, during, and after. The threats don’t disappear once the event ends. If anything, that’s when they become more dangerous.” He glanced at her briefly before his eyes returned to the road.

He hesitated, his jaw working as if he was trying to find the right words. “You nearly got stabbed tonight,” Daniel said, his voice steady, his professional demeanor never faltering. But Juliette could see it—the flicker of raw worry in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. It wasn’t the fear of failing in his duties as her bodyguard or being deemed unworthy of protecting a princess. It was something deeper, more personal. He was genuinely worried about her—as a friend.

Juliette felt a pang of guilt at that realization, understanding the weight of his concern. She hadn’t fully grasped the danger she’d been in until now, and the reality of it all hit her with a cold, sharp clarity.

Daniel exhaled slowly, his frustration evident, but it was clear that the anger wasn’t directed at her. “I’m supposed to protect you,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension remained. “But I can’t do that if I’m not there. All I’m asking for is your trust in my abilities.”

Juliette nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “I understand. I trust you,” she replied quietly. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I really am.”

Daniel didn’t respond immediately, but the stiffness in his posture seemed to ease, if only slightly. The silence between them was no longer as suffocating, but it was still heavy with the unresolved tension of the night’s events.

They continued down the darkened road, the safe house still a few hours away. Despite the emotional distance that had grown between them, Juliette knew that they would have to find a way to rebuild the trust that had been shaken tonight. For now, she would do her part by proving that she trusts him.

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It was well over midnight when Daniel pulled up to the safe house. The drive had been long and relatively quiet—except for a few small disagreements about the music—and the isolation of their destination only added to the somber mood. The house itself was tucked away in the woods, a fortified residence that exuded security and comfort in equal measure. As they stepped out of the car, Juliette took in the surroundings, the dense trees offering both protection and a sense of seclusion.

Daniel moved with practiced efficiency, his eyes scanning every corner of the property, ensuring that all security measures were in place. He entered the house and checked the locks, the windows, and the security monitors, leaving nothing to chance.

Juliette stood by the doorway, watching him work, a thought crossing her mind. “You know,” she began, her voice light but carrying an edge of dark humor, “if you were the real threat, you could easily kill me here, and no one would ever know.”

Daniel paused, his back still to her as her words hung in the air. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression serious for a split second before a playful smile tugged at his lips.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “If I were the real threat,” he said quietly. “I think I’d be more creative than this.” He gestured around them, as if to say that choosing such a predictable setting would be beneath him.

Despite his smile, there was a subtle edge to his tone, a hint of something dangerous that lingered just beneath the surface. The contrast between his lightheartedness and the underlying threat made Juliette realize how profoundly she had come to trust him. The fact that he was the only person standing between her and any real danger added weight to his words. Yet, as quickly as the tension had appeared, it was dispelled. His expression softened, the brief flash of darkness vanishing as if he hadn’t just hinted at something far more darker.

“Oh, thanks, I suppose that’s a comforting thought,” she said lightly, her attempt at humour falling flat.

He shot her a quick wink before turning back to finish his sweep of the room, the moment of levity breaking through the lingering tension between them.

Juliette stepped inside the house, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. The interior was understated but functional—well-fortified and secure, yet designed for comfort. The furniture was sturdy, the decor simple, and the atmosphere was calming in its own way. She could see the reinforced locks on the doors and the security cameras mounted discreetly around the rooms.

When he spoke again, his tone was gentler, almost reassuring. “This place is as secure as it gets. You’ll be safe here.”

Juliette nodded, taking in the aftermath of the situation. The safe house, though comfortable, felt foreign and isolating. It was a stark contrast to the lively hotel she had left behind, and it brought a new layer of reality to the evening’s events. She began to unpack their essentials alongside Daniel, trying to make the space feel a bit more like home.

As they worked side by side, the silence was no longer uncomfortable. It felt like they were gradually slipping back into their usual rhythm, the unspoken bond between them strengthening after everything they had been through.

Finally, after everything was settled, Daniel sat on the couch, a small smile playing on his lips. “Get comfortable, Your Highness,” he said with a hint of his usual humor. “We might be here for a while.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a frown playing on her lips. “What do you mean? How long are we staying here?”

“We’ll be staying here for a few days, at least until we’re sure it’s safe to return to the palace,” he explained, his tone more relaxed now. “Vincent could be a one-off, but until we know for sure, this is the best place for us.”

Despite his earlier detachment, Daniel was still the same person she had come to rely on. His professionalism and dedication to her safety were unwavering, but beneath that was a genuine concern for her well-being.

Soon, Juliette retreated to the bedroom, her dress rustling softly as she moved. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the tasteful furnishings. She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror, noting the intricate beading of her gown and how it clung uncomfortably to her form. The elegance of the dress felt more like a burden than a symbol of grace at that moment.

With a sigh of frustration, she fumbled with the zipper at the back, which had stubbornly snagged. She struggled to fix the issue, feeling the dress that had once made her feel regal now felt like a shackle. Twisting and turning to try and get a grasp on the tiny zipper down her back, the effort seemed futile. Finally, deciding that damaging the dress wasn't worth the stress, she called for Daniel.

She heard his footsteps approach immediately, followed by the soft click of the door opening. Daniel stepped inside, his eyes quickly assessing the situation as he saw Juliette grappling with the stubborn zipper.

“Everything alright, Your Highness?” he asked, his tone neutral as he took in the sight before him.

Juliette turned to face him, her frustration evident. “The zipper won’t budge,” she admitted, lifting her hair to make it easier for him to reach. “I’m afraid I might ruin it if I keep trying.”

Daniel nodded and approached her in a few short strides. He stood close behind her, his breath warm against her neck as he carefully worked on the zipper. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin as he maneuvered the clasp.

“I’ve got it,” he said softly next to her ear, his voice a reassuring murmur. With a deft pull, the zipper slid down smoothly, freeing Juliette from the confines of the dress.

The relief was immediate and palpable. Juliette took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as the tension eased. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer now, laced with genuine gratitude.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “No problem,” he replied. “I’m here to help, after all.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Daniel’s fingers lingered at the base of her spine, his touch barely there but impossible to ignore. The warmth of his hand met the coolness of her bare skin, and Juliette couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her back. His thumb brushed lightly along the path the zipper had traced, the contact sending a delicate tremor through her.

The air between them grew thick with a tension neither of them seemed eager to break. Juliette’s breath hitched, the simple act of undressing suddenly charged with an unspoken intensity. She turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. The way he looked at her—steady, attentive, with something smouldering beneath the surface—made her pulse quicken.

She hesitated, weighing her words before she spoke. “So, you’d help with anything?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost teasing, but laced with something more. The question hung in the air, a delicate invitation wrapped in subtlety.

Daniel’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, the playful smile on his lips fading into something more thoughtful, more intent. His fingers brushed over her back one last time before he withdrew them, as if reluctantly letting go of something he wasn’t ready to admit.

“Anything you need,” he replied, his voice low, the words carrying a weight that belied their simplicity.

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat at his response, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with possibilities that hadn’t been there before. The room seemed smaller, the silence more intimate, as if they were the only two people in the world at that moment.

But just as quickly as the tension had built, it began to ease as Daniel stepped back, watching her for a moment before leaving the room, giving her the privacy she needed to continue undressing. Yet the undercurrent of their exchange lingered, an unspoken understanding that hung in the air, unresolved but undeniable.

As the door clicked shut, Juliette let the dress slip from her shoulders, leaving her standing in the soft light of the room, feeling both exposed and strangely empowered. Juliette dressed slowly, her mind still replaying the moment with Daniel. She pulled on a pair of soft lounge pants and a loose top, something far more comfortable than the gown she had been confined in all evening. But, no amount of soft fabric could soothe the memory of Daniel’s touch that prickled under her skin.

Deciding to push aside the thoughts that refused to settle, Juliette stepped out of the bedroom and made her way to the living room. But as she entered, she was caught off guard by the sight of Daniel lounging on the sofa, completely at ease in his casual clothes.

He wore a simple t-shirt and a pair of joggers, an outfit that seemed so out of place for the man who usually stood guard in tailored suits. Yet here he was, looking every bit like someone she could have met in a more ordinary life—someone who could have been a friend, maybe even something more. The stark contrast between the Daniel she was used to and the man sitting comfortably before her only served to stir the tension that had simmered between them since their last encounter.

As her eyes adjusted to the brighter light, she noticed the tattoos on his left arm, now fully visible in the soft glow of the room. She had seen a few of them before, when he rolled up his sleeves on the plane, but many had been hidden then. Now, the inked designs told a story she hadn’t expected—a glimpse into a side of him she had never fully seen.

It was hard not to notice how relaxed he appeared, his guard down in a way she hadn’t seen before. The way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the casual sprawl of his legs, the easy confidence in his posture—it all made him look less like the bodyguard she was supposed to maintain a professional relationship with and more like someone who belonged in her personal life, someone who could effortlessly blur the lines between duty and desire.

Daniel glanced up as she entered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hey,” he greeted, his tone as casual as his appearance, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” she replied, trying to sound equally nonchalant as she moved closer. But she couldn’t shake the awareness that prickled beneath her skin, the tension that seemed to hum quietly between them, an undercurrent she couldn’t ignore.

Juliette found herself lingering near the sofa, her eyes subtly tracing the lines of his relaxed form. He looked different, more approachable, yet it was precisely this version of him that felt the most dangerous—the most capable of making her forget the boundaries that had been so carefully constructed. This was the Daniel who could slip into her life in ways that were entirely too intimate, too personal.

“You look…different from your usual attire,” she remarked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Daniel smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” she admitted, a smile playing on her lips. “It suits you. It’s just unexpected, I guess.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “Well, I suppose it’s a side of me you’ll get to see more often while we’re here. No suits or ties required.”

Juliette laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. “I think I can handle that.”

For a moment, silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The tension from earlier still simmered beneath the surface, but they both seemed content to let it lie for now, focusing instead on the small, normal moments that allowed them to relax.

“I was thinking of making something to eat,” Daniel said, breaking the quiet. “I’m starving. Want to join me?”

Juliette’s stomach growled softly at the mention of food, reminding her that it had been hours since they last ate. She glanced at the clock on the wall—it was getting pretty late, midnight struck hours ago, but the idea of sharing a meal with Daniel, even this late, seemed comforting. “Sure. I’m hungry too.”

They moved to the kitchen together, the air between them lighter now, the earlier tension replaced by the comfort of routine. Daniel rummaged through the pantry, pulling out ingredients for a simple meal, while Juliette set about preparing the counter space. It felt almost domestic, the way they worked in tandem, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

They ate together, savoring the simplicity of the meal and the ease of each other’s company. For a brief moment, the worries of the day seemed distant, replaced by light conversation and shared laughter. Daniel’s stories, filled with his humor and vivid descriptions, kept Juliette engaged, her own smiles and laughter coming more freely than it had in days.

As the time passed, though, Juliette could feel a creeping unease settling in her chest. Even the warmth of the meal and Daniel’s comforting presence couldn’t entirely push away the restlessness that lingered at the edges of her mind. The idea of going to bed alone in a strange place, after the events of the day, felt daunting. Yet, she didn’t want to voice it directly. Instead, she found herself drawing out the conversation, asking Daniel about anything and everything—his travels, the places he’d seen, even the tattoos that had caught her eye earlier—details she had never thought to ask before.

Daniel, ever perceptive, indulged her questions with a patient smile, but after a while, he glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late,” he noted gently, his tone still warm but carrying a hint of concern. “You should try to get some rest.”

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat, the reality of the night ahead sinking in. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not in the way she needed to. The silence that had been comforting earlier now felt like it might swallow her whole if she were left alone with it.

Reluctantly, she stood, her hands lingering on the edge of the table as she tried to find the words. Daniel watched her, his gaze steady, sensing that something was off.

“Daniel…” she began, her voice quieter than before. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

He looked at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to offer reassurance, to remind her that she was safe here, but she cut him off with a look that told him it wasn’t just about the physical safety of the place.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she finally admitted, the vulnerability in her voice surprising even her. “Could you…stay?”

His brow furrowed slightly as he nodded, clearly ready to reassure her. “I’m not going anywhere, Your Highness. I’ll be here the whole time, right in the next room.”

But she shook her head, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of hesitation and sincerity. “No, I mean…stay. In my room.”

The air between them seemed to thicken, the implications of her request hanging in the space. Daniel’s expression softened, the understanding clear now. He realized it wasn’t just about proximity; it was about presence, about needing someone beside her, more than just physically.

“I didn’t say I’d do anything for you just for the sake of saying it,” Daniel replied, his voice low and earnest. “If you need me, I’ll stay.”

Juliette felt a wave of relief wash over her, the tension easing just a fraction as she nodded. Without another word, Daniel followed her to the bedroom, the unspoken promise of his presence offering a comfort that she hadn’t realized she needed so desperately.

When they reached the room, Daniel didn’t hesitate. He settled into the chair by the window, his gaze never leaving her. “I’ll be right here,” he said, the reassurance in his voice a balm to her frayed nerves.

His presence was solid and grounding, yet he was careful to respect the boundaries of her personal space. He wasn’t about to invade her privacy by suggesting they share the bed or take advantage of her vulnerability. After all, she was a princess, and he was her bodyguard. His role was to provide protection and support without overstepping the delicate balance of their professional relationship. His choice to stay in the chair, maintaining a respectful distance, was a testament to his understanding of the boundaries between them.

Juliette slid into the bed, the unfamiliar sheets feeling just a little more welcoming with him there. She didn’t know if she would sleep, but for the first time all night, the idea didn’t seem so impossible. As she closed her eyes, she let the sound of Daniel’s steady breathing anchor her, the darkness of the room no longer feeling so suffocating.

With him there, maybe, just maybe, she could find some peace.

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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Enjoy the Butterflies

Daniel Ricciardo x crazy rich!Reader

Summary: in which Daniel gets dropped by his team and picked up by an heiress with a penchant for taking in strays

The heavy bass of the club still hums in your bones as you step out onto the pavement, the humid Singapore night wrapping around you like a second skin. The neon lights from Zouk, one of the city’s most exclusive nightclubs, pulse in rhythm with your heartbeat, and for a second, you stand still, relishing the quiet that follows hours of dancing, laughter, and too many cocktails.

The sounds of the party still echo behind you, a muffled roar of privilege and extravagance, but out here, it’s just you and the night.

Or so you think.

Your attention is pulled toward a commotion just a few meters away. You blink, trying to make sense of the scene. There’s a man — definitely not local, tall, and a little scruffy compared to the sharp-dressed crowd you’re used to — being unceremoniously escorted out by one of the bouncers. His head hangs low, and his shoulders are slumped in a way that screams defeat.

It’s not the dramatic, messy kind of exit where someone’s too drunk to stand, or too proud to admit they’ve done something wrong. No, this is different. This guy isn’t even trying to fight back.

“Get lost,” the bouncer grunts, shoving the man one last time before turning to head back inside.

You can’t help it — you freeze, your gaze lingering on him. He doesn’t move, just leans against the wall like he’s considering sinking to the ground. His posture is pitiful in a way that tugs at something inside you, that soft part of you that your family says is too soft. The part that’s always drawn to the broken, the hopeless, the ones who don’t quite fit.

He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, his eyes flicking up to the club entrance, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll magically be allowed back in. He’s pathetic. There’s no other word for it. But he’s also kind of endearing, in a weird way.

“Pathetic,” you mutter under your breath, half-amused.

You could leave him there, you know that. This isn’t your problem. He’ll figure something out. Or not. It’s not like you owe him anything, but …

"Are you just going to stand there?” You hear yourself saying, your feet already moving toward him before you can stop them.

His head snaps up, clearly not expecting anyone to address him. His eyes — big, brown, and confused — lock onto yours. He’s a little scruffy, but there’s something boyishly charming about him.

“I — uh,” he stammers, straightening up slightly but still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “No. I mean, yeah, I guess?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs helplessly. “Well, I don’t really have one. Kinda got kicked out of the only place I planned on being tonight.”

You narrow your eyes. “What did you do?”

“I, uh …” He scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know, honestly. Might’ve been a little too loud, or maybe I was blocking someone important from getting their drinks. These places, man, they don’t like it when you’re … disruptive.”

You cross your arms, glancing at him up and down. He doesn’t look dangerous, just out of place. “You sound like you deserved it.”

He winces. “Probably did.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re still standing there, wondering why you’re wasting your time. Then, before you know it, you’re sighing. Your family would shake their heads at you, calling you too kind for your own good.

“Come on,” you say, jerking your head toward the curb. “Let’s go.”

He blinks. “What?”

You nod toward the curb, where your Rolls Royce waits, engine quietly idling. The chauffeur stands by, staring straight ahead like this is the most normal thing in the world, like this isn’t some insane act of kindness you’re pulling out of nowhere.

“I’m not leaving you out here,” you say, already heading toward the car. “Get in.”

“Uh — wait, seriously?” He hurries to catch up, still clearly not processing what’s happening. “You don’t even know me.”

You shrug, throwing a look over your shoulder. “Do I need to?”

“Usually, yeah,” he says, jogging slightly to keep pace with you. “I mean, what if I’m like, a complete psycho or something?”

“If you were, I doubt you’d be sitting against a wall feeling sorry for yourself,” you shoot back, opening the car door. “Now get in before I change my mind.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation, like he’s weighing his options, but then he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and slides into the backseat beside you. The leather is cool against your skin, the scent of luxury and privilege permeating the air, and for a second, it’s quiet as the door closes behind you both.

The driver pulls away from the curb smoothly, not asking questions.

“So … you do this often?” The man asks, still clearly bewildered. “Pick up random guys outside clubs?”

You snort, turning to face him. “Definitely not.”

“Then why me?”

You shrug. “You looked pathetic.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, you think you’ve offended him, but then he laughs — loud, unabashed, and surprising. “Wow. Okay. Well, thanks, I guess?”

You smile despite yourself. “Don’t mention it.”

He leans back in the seat, still grinning. “I’m Daniel, by the way. Ricciardo. Not sure if that means anything to you.”

You narrow your eyes, the name clicking into place. “The F1 driver?”

He looks a little sheepish but nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

You stare at him for a moment, processing that. It’s not like you keep up with racing, but you’ve definitely heard of him. Seen him in ads, maybe, or on TV. It’s a little weird, thinking about it now. The same guy who’s smiling at you, a little bashfully, is famous in his own right.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you say, somewhat apologetic.

He shrugs again, more relaxed now. “Don’t worry about it. Happens more often than you think. Usually, I’m not getting kicked out of places, though.”

You smirk. “Good to know.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, the two of you settling into the soft hum of the car as it glides through the streets. You steal a glance at him, watching as he stares out the window, looking slightly more at peace now that he’s not sitting on the pavement outside of a nightclub. He catches you looking, raising an eyebrow.

“So, you’re just gonna take me home, drop me off like a stray cat?” He teases, flashing you that boyish grin again.

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “Depends. Do stray cats usually get rides in Rolls Royces?”

“Only the ones that get kicked out of clubs,” he fires back, and you can’t help but laugh.

This was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

***

You lean back in your seat, letting the smooth hum of the Rolls Royce fill the silence for a moment. Daniel seems more relaxed now, but there’s still something hanging in the air, something that makes you look at him again, curiosity getting the better of you.

"So," you say, turning your head slightly to study him, "where am I dropping you off? What hotel are you staying at?"

Daniel blinks, the question catching him off guard. He looks at you, then at the ceiling of the car like the answer might be written somewhere above his head. “Uh … yeah, about that …”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”

He winces, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not exactly. I mean, I know I checked into a place, obviously, but I can’t remember the name right now.”

“You can’t remember what hotel you’re staying at?” Your tone is somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

Daniel shrugs, unbothered. “It’s been a long day. Plus, there’s like, a million hotels in Singapore. They all start to blur together.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Okay, genius. So how were you planning on getting back?”

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admits, grinning lazily. Then, the grin fades, and something shifts in his expression — something a little sadder, more raw. “Honestly, even if I did know, I don’t really want to go back there.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He hesitates, eyes flicking to the window as if he can avoid answering by watching the city lights whiz by. After a long pause, he sighs and leans back against the seat, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I got dropped,” he mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Dropped?” You repeat, confused. “From what?”

“From my team,” he clarifies, his voice a little hoarse. “VCARB. They, uh, decided they didn’t want me around anymore.”

You blink, the realization hitting you like a sudden cold wave. “Oh.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything for a moment, the silence growing heavy. You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly as he picks at an invisible thread on his jeans.

“I mean,” he finally continues, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “I kinda saw it coming. Just didn’t think it’d happen this fast, y’know?”

The lightheartedness from earlier is completely gone now, replaced by something darker, something heavier. You can feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the frustration and sadness barely concealed behind his crooked grin.

“I thought I had more time,” he says softly, his voice raw with vulnerability. “But I guess that’s how it goes. One day you’re on top of the world, and the next … well, you’re getting kicked out of nightclubs.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. You weren’t expecting to find yourself in this situation tonight — sitting in the back of a Rolls Royce with a famous F1 driver who just lost his job. And yet, here you are, listening to him spill his heart out in the middle of the night, somewhere between Zouk and wherever he was supposed to go next.

“I just don’t want to be around them right now,” he continues, voice thick. “The team, the people … they’re all pretending to be nice, like it’s just business, but it’s not. It’s my life. My career.”

He shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter laugh. “And now it’s over. Just like that.”

You let out a sigh, long and heavy. “So, you don’t want to go back to your hotel?”

“Not really,” Daniel mutters, slumping back in his seat.

You stare at him for a second, weighing your options. Your chauffeur is driving aimlessly through the city, waiting for your instructions, and Daniel is sitting here, lost in his own world of disappointment. He looks tired, drained, and you’re not cruel enough to leave him like this.

“Well,” you say, after a beat of silence, “I guess you’re coming with me then.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, his brows furrowing. “Wait, what?”

You glance at him, your voice firm. “You heard me. You can’t remember your hotel, you don’t want to go back even if you could, and I’m not about to leave you wandering around Singapore. So, you’re coming to my place.”

He stares at you, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You roll your eyes. “Would I say it if I wasn’t?”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to argue, but then he slumps back in his seat again, exhaling a long, tired breath. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

You nod, already turning to the front of the car. “Take us home,” you tell your chauffeur, who acknowledges the instruction with a curt nod before the car smoothly shifts direction.

Daniel leans his head against the window, eyes heavy. “Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

You wave it off. “I know.”

A few minutes pass in silence, the soft sound of the tires against the road lulling both of you into a calm quiet. You glance over at Daniel again, noticing how his eyelids are drooping more and more, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” you comment, amused.

“M’not,” he protests, but his words are already slurred. “Just … resting my eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out, and his head tips to the side, fully succumbing to sleep. You shake your head, watching him for a moment. He looks peaceful like this, the weight of whatever he’s been carrying lifted, if only temporarily.

“Of course,” you mutter to yourself, leaning back in your seat, “this is how my night ends.”

The car pulls up in front of your building — a sleek, modern tower in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Your chauffeur steps out first, coming around to open the door for you. You step out gracefully, smoothing your dress, but when you look back into the car, Daniel is still out cold, slumped awkwardly in the seat.

You sigh. “This is not happening.”

Your chauffeur, ever professional, stands at attention, waiting for your next move. You consider your options for a second before glancing at him. “Help me get him inside, will you?”

The chauffeur doesn’t hesitate, nodding curtly. He moves to the other side of the car and carefully opens the door. Together, you manage to maneuver Daniel out of the backseat, his arm draped over the chauffeur’s shoulder as he leans heavily against him. Daniel stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, too deep in sleep to even register what’s happening.

The doorman, recognizing you immediately, rushes over to assist. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says, eyes flicking from you to the unconscious Daniel, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just … had a long night.”

The doorman nods, not pressing further, and helps the chauffeur guide Daniel through the lobby and into the elevator. You follow behind, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing there’s no turning back now.

The elevator ride is quiet, save for Daniel’s soft breathing as he leans against the wall, still fast asleep. You glance at him, half-amused, half-exasperated. What a night.

When you finally reach your penthouse, the door slides open smoothly, and the chauffeur and doorman gently ease Daniel onto your plush couch. He sprawls out, looking even more out of place among the sleek, expensive furniture, but you can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Thanks,” you tell the men, who nod before excusing themselves quietly, leaving you alone with your unexpected guest.

You stand there for a moment, looking at Daniel as he sleeps soundly on your couch. His shoes are still on, one arm hanging off the side, and his mouth slightly open in a way that’s almost comical. Shaking your head, you grab a blanket from a nearby chair and drape it over him.

“Well, this is definitely not how I thought my night would go,” you mutter to yourself, standing back and crossing your arms as you look at him one last time.

With a sigh, you turn and head toward your bedroom, already mentally preparing for the chaos tomorrow is likely to bring.

***

You’re in the middle of a dream when you hear it — the unmistakable sound of your mother’s voice. Loud, sharp, and utterly out of place in the peaceful silence of your penthouse. Your eyes snap open, heart pounding in your chest as you try to piece together why in the world she would be here, at this ungodly hour.

And then you hear it. A scream.

“Who is this man?”

Your stomach drops, the reality of last night hitting you like a freight train. Daniel. He’s still here. Passed out on your couch. And now, your very traditional mother is standing in your living room, probably about to have a heart attack.

You scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over yourself as you rush toward the living room. You can already hear her ranting, a mix of shock and outrage in her voice, and you don’t even have time to think before you’re standing in front of her, trying to calm the situation down.

“Mum!” You blurt out, trying to sound casual, like this isn’t the absolute disaster it clearly is. “What are you doing here?”

Your mother’s eyes are wide, her perfectly manicured hand pressed dramatically against her chest as she stares down at Daniel, who’s still blissfully unconscious, mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing!” She snaps, her voice rising with every word. “Why is there a man sleeping in your living room? And why-” she leans in, eyes narrowing, “does he look like he’s been out drinking all night?”

Your mind races, panic bubbling up as you try to figure out what to say, what kind of excuse would possibly explain this. And then, without even thinking, the words tumble out of your mouth.

“He’s … he’s my boyfriend.”

The second the lie leaves your lips, you know it’s a terrible idea. But it’s too late now. Your mother freezes, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she looks between you and Daniel. “Your … boyfriend?” She repeats, her tone incredulous.

You nod, forcing a tight smile, praying that Daniel stays asleep long enough for you to get through this. “Yes. My boyfriend.”

Your mother looks like she’s about to faint. “And you didn’t tell me? You-”

“I was going to!” you interrupt quickly. “But it’s … it’s new. Very new. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

She crosses her arms, still clearly not buying it. “And this is how you introduce him to your mother? Drunk and passed out in your living room?”

“He’s not drunk,” you say quickly, even though that’s obviously a lie. “He’s … uh, just really tired. He’s been going through a lot lately.”

At that moment, you hear a groan from the couch. You glance over, heart sinking as Daniel stirs, slowly blinking awake. His face is pale, and the second he opens his eyes, you can see the hangover written all over him.

“Wh-” Daniel starts, voice groggy as he sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Where …”

Your mother’s eyes widen, and she turns to you, her expression one of absolute horror. “This is him?” She whispers, like you’ve just committed some kind of unspeakable crime.

You give her a weak smile. “Yes. Mum, this is Daniel.”

Daniel’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, his bleary eyes trying to make sense of the situation. He looks at you, confused, and you give him a pointed look, willing him to just go along with it.

"Daniel," you say through gritted teeth, “this is my mother. Remember? I told you she might stop by.”

Daniel blinks at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. It takes a second, but you can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he tries to process what’s happening. Finally, he nods slowly, trying to catch up. “Right. Your mum. Uh, hi.”

Your mother stares at him, unimpressed. “Are you alright?” She asks, her voice cold and judgmental.

Daniel, still clearly half-asleep and in the throes of a wicked hangover, gives her a shaky smile. “Yeah, just … didn’t sleep great,” he mumbles, leaning back into the couch.

You wince internally, but keep up the act. “He’s been working so hard lately,” you say quickly, hoping to smooth things over. “With his job and everything.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow further. “And what does he do, exactly?”

Daniel glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes, clearly not prepared for this interrogation. You jump in before he can make things worse.

“He’s … in sports,” you say vaguely. “He’s an athlete.”

Your mother’s gaze doesn’t soften in the slightest. “What kind of athlete?”

You feel Daniel’s eyes on you, pleading silently for help. “Formula 1,” you say quickly. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Your mother blinks, taken aback by this revelation. “A race car driver?” She repeats, like it’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “That’s … interesting.”

You can tell she’s not impressed, but at least it’s bought you a little time. You just need to get through this without her prying too much further.

“I promise, Mum, Daniel’s a good guy,” you say, trying to sound convincing. “He just … had a rough night. That’s all.”

Your mother’s gaze flicks between you and Daniel, suspicion still heavy in her eyes. “And where did he sleep?”

You freeze. “Uh …”

Daniel, finally catching on to what’s happening, sits up a little straighter. “I slept here,” he says quickly, gesturing to the couch. “On the couch. I didn’t … you know …”

He trails off, looking at your mother awkwardly, but the message is clear.

Your mother’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised by his admission. “You didn’t share a bed?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, Mum. We didn’t share a bed. We’re not married, remember?”

For the first time since she walked in, your mother seems to relax a little, her rigid posture softening just a bit. “Well,” she says, sounding somewhat mollified, “at least he has some morals.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, nodding along. “Exactly. Daniel’s … very respectful.”

Daniel gives a small, awkward smile, clearly still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Uh, yeah. Very … respectful.”

Your mother studies him for a moment longer, then nods, satisfied. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

You almost laugh at that but manage to keep a straight face. “Right.”

There’s a brief pause as your mother smooths down her dress, glancing around the penthouse like she’s looking for something to criticize. Then, her eyes land back on you, and she smiles — one of those deceptively sweet smiles that always makes you nervous.

“Well,” she says brightly, “since I’m here, I’d love to get to know Daniel a bit better. Why don’t you two join me for dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Your mother nods, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Yes. I think it’s high time I meet this boyfriend of yours properly.”

You glance at Daniel, who’s looking at you with wide, slightly panicked eyes. You can tell he’s regretting every decision that led him to this moment, but there’s no way out now. You’re both trapped.

“Uh, sure,” you say weakly. “We’d love to.”

Your mother beams, clearly pleased with herself. “Wonderful! I’ll have my assistant call to make the reservation. Seven o’clock sharp. You know where. Don’t be late.”

Before you can respond, she’s already turning on her heel, heading toward the door with a satisfied smile on her face. “I’ll see you both tonight,” she calls over her shoulder as she exits, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

The door clicks shut, and the room is suddenly, blissfully quiet.

You turn to Daniel, who’s staring at you, still half-dazed from sleep and now fully confused about what just happened.

“Boyfriend?” He croaks, his voice rough from the hangover.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing your temples. “I panicked.”

He groans, flopping back onto the couch. “Dinner with your mum? Really?”

“Yes. And if you don’t play along, I’m pretty sure she’ll disown me.”

Daniel chuckles weakly, rubbing his temples. “Great. Just great.”

You stare at him for a moment, then flop down next to him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. “This is a disaster.”

“Eh,” Daniel mutters, eyes closed. “Could be worse.”

You shoot him a look. “How?”

He cracks one eye open, grinning. “At least I didn’t throw up on her.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “That’s not funny.”

But when you look up, you can’t help but laugh, because as ridiculous as this entire situation is, somehow, in the madness of it all, you know tonight is going to be even worse.

***

Dinner is already awkward. You can feel the tension every time your mother glances at Daniel, her polite smile not quite reaching her eyes. It’s a small, exclusive restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters wear gloves, and the courses are tiny but outrageously expensive. The chef is renowned for his traditional yet experimental take on Singaporean cuisine, which is perfect because your mother insists on a display of sophistication when it comes to hosting. Unfortunately, that also means the pressure on Daniel is palpable.

Daniel sits across from you, trying to look comfortable, though his hand is constantly fiddling with his napkin under the table. Your mother, seated beside him, is maintaining her usual air of grace, but you can see she’s sizing him up, scrutinizing every bite, every word. And you … you’re just trying to survive.

“So, Daniel,” your mother begins, swirling her wine like a seasoned critic, “what are your long-term plans? With your career, I mean.”

Daniel freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, the question clearly catching him off guard. He clears his throat, scrambling to find an answer that sounds impressive. “Well, uh, things are a bit … in flux right now,” he says, offering a weak smile. “But I’m working on it.”

Your mother arches an eyebrow. “In flux? That doesn’t sound very … stable.”

You kick Daniel lightly under the table, silently willing him to come up with something better than “in flux.” He glances at you for help, but you just widen your eyes, urging him to recover.

“Yeah, well,” Daniel says, trying to salvage the conversation, “I’ve been racing for a while, you know? Formula 1. It’s a pretty high-pressure job, so … I’m considering my next move carefully.”

Your mother makes a noncommittal hum, clearly unimpressed. “I see.”

You want to sink into the floor.

“I’m going to excuse myself for a moment,” you say quickly, standing from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Daniel gives you a look that screams *don’t leave me alone with her*, but there’s no way around it. You shoot him an apologetic smile before making your way toward the restroom, leaving him to fend for himself.

As soon as you’re gone, the silence at the table becomes almost deafening. Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around the room as if he’s suddenly forgotten how to act normal. He’s about to reach for his water glass when he notices your mother watching him closely.

“So,” she says, her tone unnervingly calm, “Daniel.”

He straightens up, unsure if he should be relieved or terrified that she’s addressing him directly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I think we should speak candidly, don’t you?” She says, her voice as smooth as silk but with an edge that makes Daniel’s skin crawl. She reaches into her handbag, and Daniel feels his stomach lurch with nerves. What’s she going to pull out? A contract? Some kind of questionnaire?

What she pulls out, however, is much worse.

It’s a small, velvet box. A ring box.

Daniel’s heart stops. His eyes widen as he stares at the box, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Your mother places the box delicately in front of him, her expression serene, like she’s offering him a cup of tea rather than a proposal-sized bombshell. “I’ve been waiting for Y/N to bring home a boy for quite some time,” she says, her voice soft but pointed. “And now that she has … well, I can’t let this moment pass.”

Daniel opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too stunned to respond, completely blindsided by this sudden turn of events.

Your mother’s eyes gleam, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if she’s sharing a secret. “Of course, I would have preferred if you were Singaporean,” she continues, her tone just a touch sharper, “but I’m not getting any younger, and I want grandchildren. So, we can’t be picky, can we?”

Daniel’s mind goes blank. He tries to form a coherent thought, a response, anything, but all that comes out is a strangled, “I … uh …”

Your mother regards him with the same calm, calculating gaze she’s had since the start of dinner, as though this entire interaction is completely normal. “You’ll do,” she says simply, and there’s a finality in her tone that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

Daniel stares at the ring box, his brain short-circuiting. Is this really happening? He glances around the restaurant, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him it’s all some elaborate prank. But no one does. It’s just him, your mother, and the heavy weight of that velvet box sitting between them.

He’s completely out of his depth. He can’t even think of how to respond to your mother’s words, let alone the fact that she’s just essentially handed him an engagement ring.

“I-” he starts again, but his throat is dry, and nothing coherent follows.

“Daniel,” she interrupts smoothly, her gaze sharpening. “You’re a good man, I can tell. And you’re very … respectful.” The word drips with meaning, making Daniel shift in his seat.

Before he can stammer out anything in return, the restroom door swings open, and you reappear, walking back toward the table, blissfully unaware of the bomb that’s just been dropped.

Daniel panics. His mind races as you approach, and without thinking, he snatches the ring box off the table, slipping it into his jacket pocket in one swift movement. His heart is racing, his palms suddenly sweaty, but he tries to keep his expression neutral.

“Everything alright?” You ask, sliding back into your seat, oblivious to the tension radiating from both Daniel and your mother.

Daniel clears his throat, forcing a tight smile. “Yep. All good.”

Your mother smiles pleasantly, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, we were just having a lovely little chat.”

You look between them suspiciously, but there’s no sign of the chaos that just occurred. Daniel’s poker face is impressive, but you can sense something is off. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he just gives you a strained smile in return.

The rest of dinner is a blur. You try to focus on the conversation, but your mother seems to be on her best behavior, keeping things light and superficial. Daniel is unusually quiet, nodding along and making polite comments when necessary, but there’s something distant about him, like he’s somewhere else entirely.

By the time dessert arrives, you can’t shake the feeling that something happened while you were gone. But Daniel isn’t saying a word, and your mother’s serene expression betrays nothing.

As the waiter clears the last of the plates, your mother dabs at her mouth with her napkin, looking between the two of you with an air of satisfaction. “Well,” she says, standing from the table, “this has been lovely. I’m so glad we could all spend this time together.”

You force a smile, standing as well. “Yes, of course. It was … lovely.”

Daniel stands too, his movements a little stiffer than usual, like he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says politely, though his voice is a bit strained.

Your mother gives him one last, long look, then smiles warmly. “Oh, Daniel, you’re always welcome. Anytime.”

With that, she gathers her things and heads for the door, leaving you and Daniel standing there in stunned silence. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Daniel.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Daniel gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah … not too bad.”

You narrow your eyes at him, picking up on the odd tone in his voice. “Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird since I got back to the table.”

He blinks, his hand instinctively brushing the pocket where the ring box is hidden. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just … full. Really full.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but decide to let it slide for now. “Alright. If you say so.”

As you both head for the door, Daniel’s mind is still racing, the weight of the ring box burning a hole in his pocket. He has no idea what to do with it, or what your mother expects from him, but one thing is for sure — he’s in way over his head.

And he’s not sure how much longer he can keep pretending.

***

Back at your penthouse, the atmosphere feels … tense. Not the sort of charged tension from earlier, but something more fragile, awkward. The kind that makes everything feel a bit too quiet, like the air is too thick with things unsaid. You and Daniel are sitting on opposite ends of the plush couch in your living room. It’s not that big of a couch, but the distance feels enormous.

Daniel is fidgeting, running a hand through his hair, tapping his fingers on his knee. You’re sitting with your arms crossed, staring at him, waiting. But waiting for what, exactly? Neither of you knows. The silence stretches between you both, and it’s unbearable. Every breath feels louder than it should.

“Uh …” Daniel finally starts, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to find something — anything — to say. But nothing seems right, so he just ends up staring back at you, eyes darting around like he’s looking for a way out.

You, on the other hand, are unusually still, your eyes narrowed at him. It’s like you’re waiting for him to make the first move, but he’s not catching on. Not yet.

Daniel swallows hard, and after a moment of hesitation, his hand moves toward his jacket pocket. Your eyes flick to the motion, and his fingers tremble slightly as they close around the velvet box, pulling it out with an awkward kind of determination, as if it’s weighing him down more than anything. He holds it for a second, staring at it like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

Then, with a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, he opens the box.

The soft click of the hinge seems impossibly loud in the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare. The ring glimmers under the soft lighting, catching the faintest reflection of the overhead chandelier. It’s not just any ring. You recognize it immediately.

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, you start laughing.

Daniel’s eyes snap to you in confusion, his brows furrowing. “What … what’s so funny?”

You’re still giggling, pressing your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound, but it doesn’t work. The laughter bubbles up uncontrollably, and Daniel looks like he’s caught between being relieved that you’re not mad and completely baffled by your reaction.

“You-” you manage between breaths, “That ring … that’s my grandmother’s. Oh my God, she’s really lost it.”

Daniel blinks, glancing down at the ring again, his confusion only deepening. “Wait, what?”

“My mother,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye, “She must be really desperate to get me married off if she’s giving out my grandmother’s ring to the first guy I bring to dinner. I can’t believe it.”

Daniel stares at you for a second, then back at the ring. “This is your … grandmother’s?” His voice is shaky, like the absurdity of the situation is just now hitting him.

You nod, biting your lip to stifle another laugh. “Yup. She always said it was meant for the man I’d marry one day. Guess she couldn’t wait any longer.”

Daniel’s face goes through a range of emotions — shock, embarrassment, and finally, something like disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say.”

You snicker again, leaning back against the couch and crossing your arms. “I think the bigger question here is — why didn’t you say anything to me? Did you just plan on pocketing the ring and hoping I wouldn’t notice?”

Daniel shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks flushing. “I — I didn’t know what to do. Your mom just … handed it to me. I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘No, thank you, ma’am, I’m not ready for an arranged marriage just yet?’”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “That might’ve been a good start.”

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again, clearly struggling to find a way out of this. Finally, he lets out a defeated sigh and leans back, running both hands through his hair. “This is insane.”

“You think?” You quip, smirking.

Daniel’s gaze drops to the ring again, and there’s a beat of silence before you speak up, this time your tone more playful than mocking. “Well,” you say, drawing out the word, “if you’re gonna propose, you should at least get on one knee. You know, for tradition’s sake.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief. “What?”

You laugh again, your teasing smile growing. “I mean, come on. If we’re going through with this charade, you might as well go all in. Get down on one knee, Ricciardo.”

He blinks at you, completely at a loss for words. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not?” You shoot back, still grinning. “What’s stopping you? You don’t have a job anymore, so it’s not like you have much else going on. You could always be my trophy husband.”

There’s a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes — part shock, part amusement, and maybe just a little bit of something else. “Trophy husband?” He echoes, his voice incredulous.

You shrug, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand, as if the idea were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I mean, think about it. You wouldn’t have to work, I’d take care of you. You could just … exist. Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”

Daniel laughs — an actual laugh this time, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You grin. “Maybe. But I’m also not wrong.”

For a moment, the room is quiet again, but it’s not the awkward silence from before. This is something lighter, filled with the remnants of laughter and the weight of an unspoken understanding. Daniel is still holding the ring box, his thumb absently running over the velvet surface as he processes everything that’s just happened.

And then, because clearly, the universe hasn’t thrown enough chaos at him lately, Daniel does something that surprises both of you.

He nods.

It’s a small, hesitant nod at first, like he’s not even sure he’s agreeing to anything real. But then he meets your gaze, and there’s a flicker of something — maybe exhaustion, maybe delirium, maybe just the sheer absurdity of it all — and he nods again. This time, more certain.

“Alright,” he says quietly, still staring at the ring. “Okay.”

You freeze, blinking at him in surprise. “Wait … what?”

Daniel looks up at you, his expression unreadable but calm. “I said … okay. Let’s do it.”

For the first time tonight, you’re the one who’s caught off guard. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head slowly, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Nope.”

You sit up straighter, suddenly unsure whether you’re still in the middle of some elaborate joke or if the reality of the past few days has finally broken Daniel’s sense of logic. “You — wait, seriously? You’d marry me?”

Daniel shrugs, though there’s a glimmer of humor in his eyes now. “I mean, like you said … I don’t have a job anymore. And hey, being a trophy husband doesn’t sound half bad.”

You stare at him, searching his face for any sign of a punchline. But the longer you look, the more you realize he’s not kidding. He’s serious. Or as serious as someone in his situation can be.

A beat passes. Then another.

And suddenly, you burst into laughter again.

“God, you’re insane,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “This whole thing is insane.”

Daniel grins, leaning back into the couch with a relieved sigh, as if your laughter has lifted the tension from the room entirely. “Welcome to my life.”

You shake your head again, still chuckling, though there’s something warm and strange growing in your chest. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

Daniel glances at the ring one more time before closing the box with a soft click and slipping it back into his pocket. “Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, “if nothing else, at least we’ll give your mother something to talk about at her next dinner party.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, she’ll have a field day.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, side by side on the couch, the absurdity of the night finally settling over you both. It’s ridiculous, completely irrational, and yet somehow, in this moment, it feels … right.

Daniel nudges you with his elbow, breaking the silence. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You groan, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Daniel chuckles, leaning back into the cushions, finally starting to relax. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

But even as you say it, you can’t shake the feeling that this strange, accidental engagement is just the beginning of something even more complicated.

And maybe you’re okay with that.

***

You come home the next afternoon, practically skipping into the penthouse, your eyes sparkling with excitement. The energy around you is contagious, and even Daniel, who’s lounging on the couch with a glass of water — probably trying to recover from the whirlwind of the past few days — can’t help but smile at your entrance.

“You look … happy,” Daniel says, a slow grin spreading across his face. “What did I miss?”

You clap your hands together like an excited child, barely containing your glee. “I got you something.”

Daniel’s smile falters for a moment, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Wait, what? You got me something?” He straightens up on the couch, his brows furrowing. “You really didn’t have to do that-”

“Shush.” You wave a hand at him, cutting him off before he can protest further. “I wanted to. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Daniel chuckles, though there’s a nervous edge to his voice. “Alright, alright. What is it then? A new watch? Shoes?” He pauses, glancing at you skeptically. “Wait, is it another one of your mum’s rings?”

You shake your head, grinning like you’ve just pulled off the best surprise in the world. “Nope. Guess again.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Okay … well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s great but-”

“I bought Red Bull Racing.”

For a second, it’s like the words don’t register. Daniel blinks at you, his expression blank as his brain tries to process what you just said. There’s a long beat of silence before his mouth finally drops open in disbelief.

“You … you what?”

Your grin widens. “I bought Red Bull Racing. You know, the Formula 1 team? Your old team?” You say it so casually, like you’re talking about picking up a pair of shoes or booking a vacation.

Daniel’s jaw is still hanging open. “You — wait — are you serious?” He’s half laughing now, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But the look on your face — pure, unfiltered joy — tells him you’re very, very serious.

“Yup!” You say, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Apparently, if you offer double what a team is worth, the owners tend to sell pretty quickly. Who knew?”

Daniel stares at you, completely slack-jawed, like you’ve just told him you bought a small country. “You … bought Red Bull Racing?” His voice cracks a little as he repeats it, as if saying it out loud will make it more real.

You nod, your smile never faltering. “Yup. Just closed the deal this morning.”

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel runs a hand through his hair, looking like he might faint. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a playful shrug. “But it’s an engagement gift, you know? Gotta keep things exciting.”

Daniel lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say. That’s — this is crazy.”

“I know,” you say, beaming. “But crazy is kind of our thing, isn’t it?”

He laughs again, though it’s still a little shaky. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

There’s a pause as Daniel tries to wrap his head around the fact that you, his new fiancée, just bought one of the most successful teams in Formula 1. He stares at you for a moment longer, then blinks, rubbing his temples like he’s getting a headache. “I … I don’t even know where to start. What does that even mean? You’re gonna be the new team owner?”

“Pretty much,” you say, like it’s no big deal. “And I’m planning to do a bit of restructuring. You know, make some changes, shake things up.”

Daniel gives you a skeptical look. “Restructuring? What kind of changes?”

“Well …” You tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “First of all, I figured I’d ask if there’s anyone you’d like me to keep around. I mean, it’s your engagement gift, after all. I want you to be happy with the team.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

You lean closer, your eyes gleaming mischievously. “And I assume you’ll want me to keep your boyfriend, right?”

Daniel freezes, blinking at you in confusion. “My … boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say, deadpan. “Max.”

Daniel nearly chokes. “Wait — what?”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “I’m talking about Max Verstappen! Don’t act so surprised.”

Daniel’s face flushes a deep red, and he shakes his head, exasperated. “We’re not — he’s not my — Jesus, you’re impossible.”

You pat his head, still laughing. “Sure, he’s not. Whatever you say.”

Daniel groans, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

You sit back, grinning at him. “So, do you want me to keep him or not?”

He lowers his hands, shooting you a look that’s half amused, half irritated. “Obviously, you keep him. He’s the best driver on the grid.”

You nod, pretending to jot down notes in the air. “Okay, so keep Max. Got it.”

Daniel leans back against the couch, staring at you like he still can’t believe this is real. “I can’t believe you just bought a Formula 1 team.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” you say with a grin.

Daniel laughs, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “And you’re just … going to be the boss now?”

You shrug. “Why not? It’s not like I haven’t run a business before. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a Formula 1 team?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You do realize you’ll be dealing with, like, a whole bunch of egos and drama, right? It’s not just about racing. There’s politics, sponsorships, technical regulations …”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Details, details. I’ll figure it out.”

Daniel shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And that’s why you like me,” you quip, flashing him a playful wink.

Daniel’s smile softens, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. But then he shakes his head again, chuckling. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and Daniel’s gaze drifts back to the ring box still sitting on the coffee table between you. It feels surreal — like the last few days have been one long, crazy dream that neither of you can wake up from. But somehow, despite all the madness, there’s a strange sense of peace settling over the room.

Finally, Daniel breaks the silence with a quiet laugh. “So … when do you get to meet the team?”

You grin. “Soon enough. I’ll introduce you as my fiancé. It’ll be fun to see the look on everyone’s faces.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You’ll love it. Don’t you like being the center of attention?”

He shoots you a playful glare. “I’m starting to regret this engagement.”

You laugh, leaning back into the couch. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

Daniel chuckles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

***

You and Daniel are curled up together on the plush couch, nestled under a thick blanket, a pint of ice cream balanced between the two of you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room as Crazy Rich Asians plays in the background, the glamorous scenes of Singapore flashing on the screen. You scoop a spoonful of ice cream and pop it into your mouth, your eyes glued to the over-the-top depiction of high society that, to you, feels more like a parody than reality.

“I mean, come on,” you mutter around a mouthful of ice cream, shaking your head. “That’s not how any of this works.”

Daniel glances at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “What do you mean? It looks pretty fancy to me.”

You roll your eyes, waving your spoon toward the screen. “Yeah, because all of us crazy rich Asians are just constantly jetting off to private islands in the middle of the week. And, of course, we throw dramatic, lavish parties for every minor inconvenience.”

Daniel grins, leaning back against the couch as he scoops up some ice cream. “I dunno, the whole secret wedding dress thing seemed pretty realistic to me.”

You nudge him playfully with your elbow, laughing. “Please. If anything, that’s understated.”

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, so maybe Hollywood doesn’t exactly nail the rich lifestyle. But it’s entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “It’s borderline satire. Half the time, I’m watching these movies like, ‘Are you serious? Who even does that?’”

Daniel laughs again, clearly enjoying your commentary more than the actual movie. “Okay, but admit it, the wedding scene was pretty epic.”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine, I’ll give them that one. The water running down the aisle was a nice touch.”

“See? Even you have to admit there’s some good stuff in there,” Daniel says with a grin, licking his spoon.

You lean back against the couch, settling more comfortably into Daniel’s side as the movie continues to play. The ice cream between you starts to melt slightly, but neither of you seem to care, too caught up in the comfort of the moment. Your head rests on Daniel’s shoulder, and his arm is loosely draped around you.

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a few minutes, the movie providing a soft background noise as you both watch absently. Then, without looking away from the screen, you break the silence with a casual question.

“Hey, so … do you want to drive for Red Bull next year?”

The question seems to catch Daniel off guard. His hand, mid-way to another scoop of ice cream, freezes in the air. He turns his head slightly to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He doesn’t say anything at first, and the silence stretches out long enough for you to glance up at him, wondering why he’s taking so long to respond.

“Daniel?” You prompt softly.

He pauses the movie, the room suddenly quiet without the chatter of characters and dramatic music. His face is serious now, a stark contrast to the playful mood from moments before. He places the spoon down in the pint and leans back, exhaling a long breath.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You blink at him, confused. “You don’t know? What do you mean?”

Daniel rubs a hand over his face, looking down at his lap as if the answer is written there somewhere. “I mean, I don’t know if … if I deserve it. That seat.”

There’s a heavy pause as you process his words. The casualness of the evening suddenly feels distant, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. You turn slightly, facing him more directly now, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

“Why would you say that?” You ask, your voice quiet but firm.

Daniel looks up at you, his expression pained. “I’ve been dropped twice now. McLaren, VCARB … And, honestly, I didn’t do as well as I wanted. As well as they wanted. What if I’m just not cut out for it anymore? Maybe the sport’s moved on, and I haven’t.”

You frown, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true. You’re still an incredible driver.”

Daniel lets out a bitter laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Incredible? You’ve seen the results. I’m nowhere near where I used to be. And Max? He’s on another level. It’s his team now.”

“Okay, first of all,” you say, your tone shifting into something more assertive, “don’t compare yourself to Max. You’re both amazing in your own ways. And second, this isn’t about what they want, Daniel. It’s about what you want.”

Daniel doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at the frozen image on the TV screen, lost in his thoughts. His jaw is tense, and you can tell he’s grappling with something deeper, something that’s been weighing on him for a long time.

You squeeze his knee gently, your voice softening. “You’ve still got it, Daniel. I know you do. And so does everyone else.”

He glances at you, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find some kind of reassurance in your words. “But what if … what if I can’t get back to where I was? What if I’m just holding onto something that’s not there anymore?”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, not missing a beat. “You’ve had a rough few seasons, sure. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. It just means you’ve had setbacks. And if anyone knows how to bounce back, it’s you.”

Daniel still looks unsure, and you can tell there’s a part of him that’s scared — scared of failing again, scared of not living up to the expectations that have been placed on him, both by himself and by others.

You lean in closer, your voice gentle but insistent. “Daniel, you’re one of the best drivers in the world. You’ve proved that time and time again. Red Bull wouldn’t have taken you back if they didn’t believe in you. And I wouldn’t have bought the damn team if I didn’t believe in you either.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Daniel’s lips at that, though it’s fleeting. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I just … I don’t know if I’m ready to go back. I don’t know if I can handle it if things go wrong again.”

You nod slowly, understanding the fear behind his words. It’s not just about driving. It’s about the pressure, the weight of expectation, the fear of failure.

“I get that,” you say softly. “But you can’t let fear stop you from doing what you love. You’ve been through a lot, I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You have so much more left to give. And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

Daniel meets your gaze, his eyes softening at your words. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression is raw, unguarded. Then he reaches out, taking your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze.

“You really think I can do it?” He asks quietly.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “I know you can.”

Daniel lets out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as some of the tension seems to drain from him. He looks at you for a long moment, then nods, as if finally coming to terms with something inside himself.

“Alright,” he says, his voice a little steadier now. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you say with a soft smile.

He leans back into the couch, and you both settle into a comfortable silence again, the tension from earlier slowly fading away. You reach for the remote and unpause the movie, but neither of you are really paying attention to it anymore. Instead, you both sit there, sharing the ice cream, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air but somehow lighter now.

***

The evening is quiet, the city’s hum muted behind the large windows of your penthouse. The movie’s credits are rolling, but neither you nor Daniel has made a move to turn off the TV. Instead, you both sit there, wrapped up in the soft blanket, the nearly empty pint of ice cream abandoned on the coffee table. There’s a sense of calm in the air, but underneath it, you can feel something unspoken, simmering just below the surface.

You glance at Daniel, who’s leaning back into the couch, his gaze distant. He’s still processing, you can tell — about Red Bull, about everything that’s been thrown at him lately. The weight of it all seems heavier in the silence.

After a long moment, you shift slightly, turning your body to face him more directly. “Daniel,” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinks, coming back to the present, and looks at you with a small, tired smile. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said something a lot that I keep thinking about,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “The whole ‘enjoy the butterflies’ thing. I’ve heard you say it in interviews, but I don’t think I ever really understood what you meant by it.”

Daniel’s smile falters a bit, and he looks away, his expression growing thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything at first, and you can see he’s retreating into his thoughts again, the way he does when he’s trying to figure out how to articulate something that matters to him.

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm, coaxing him back to the conversation. “What does it really mean to you? Enjoy the butterflies?”

Daniel takes a deep breath, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “It’s … it’s kinda hard to explain,” he says slowly, his accent thicker when he’s being reflective. “It’s not just about racing, you know? It’s more about the feeling — the nerves, the excitement, the anticipation. All those little moments that make your stomach flip.”

He pauses, glancing at you as if gauging whether you’re following. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I think,” he says, his voice quieter now, “for the longest time, I used to hate that feeling. The butterflies. It always made me feel … unsure. Like, am I good enough? Am I ready? Every time I’d get in the car, no matter how many times I’d done it before, I’d still feel that little twinge of anxiety. And for a while, I thought it was a bad thing.”

You listen intently, your eyes never leaving his face as he speaks. There’s something raw and real in his words, a vulnerability that you don’t often see in him.

“But then, I don’t know,” he continues, “at some point, I started to see it differently. Like, maybe those butterflies aren’t a sign of weakness. Maybe they’re a sign that you’re doing something that matters. That you’re alive. That you care.”

You nod slowly, your hand still resting on his arm. “That makes sense.”

Daniel meets your gaze again, his eyes softening. “Yeah. So now, when I feel the butterflies, I try to embrace it, you know? Instead of fighting it. Because if you’re not nervous, if you don’t feel anything, then what’s the point?”

You lean back slightly, absorbing his words. There’s a quiet wisdom in what he’s saying, a reminder that life’s most meaningful moments are often the ones that scare us the most. You think about how that applies to you — not just in your relationship with Daniel, but in everything. The choices you’ve made, the risks you’ve taken, the moments when you’ve doubted yourself. Maybe those butterflies are a part of the journey, too.

“I get that,” you say softly, nodding. “But … do you still feel them? After all this time?”

Daniel smiles, but it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “Every single time.”

You look at him for a long moment, the weight of his honesty settling between you. There’s something comforting in knowing that even someone like Daniel — someone who’s faced so many high-pressure moments, who’s been at the top of his game — still feels that same uncertainty, that same flutter of nerves.

“But now,” he adds, his voice softening even more, “I think the butterflies aren’t just about fear. They’re about excitement, too. Like, yeah, maybe I’m nervous, but I’m also excited because it means I still care. I still love what I do, even when it’s hard.”

You smile gently, your hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s beautiful, Daniel. Really.”

He chuckles lightly, looking almost embarrassed by the compliment. “I don’t know about beautiful, but it helps me get through the tough days.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel the conversation shifting into something deeper, something more personal. You take a breath, feeling the moment settling between you like a quiet pulse.

“Do you ever get tired of it, though?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “The butterflies, the pressure, the weight of it all?”

Daniel tilts his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, his voice is tinged with a kind of quiet resignation. “Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like too much, like it’s all building up and I just … don’t know how to keep going.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. You’ve seen Daniel at his best, but you’ve also seen him at his lowest. The moments when he’s struggled, when he’s doubted himself. And yet, through it all, he’s always managed to push through. To keep going.

“But,” he continues after a beat, his voice soft but steady, “those moments don’t last forever. And when they pass, when I’m back in the car, or when I’ve crossed the finish line, it’s like … I remember why I do it. Why I love it.”

You watch him closely, your heart swelling with both admiration and empathy. “You’re stronger than you think, Daniel.”

He glances at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think it’s a little bit of both.”

Daniel grins at that, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He shifts on the couch, turning more toward you, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. There’s a softness in his touch, a quiet intimacy that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You know,” he says quietly, “you’ve got your own butterflies too. I’ve seen them.”

You raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “Oh, really?”

Daniel nods, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yeah. Whenever you’re about to make a big decision or when something’s stressing you out. You get this look in your eyes, like you’re bracing yourself for something.”

You blink, taken aback by his observation. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

He smiles gently. “I notice a lot about you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence again, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air like a shared secret. You can feel your heart beating a little faster, the warmth of Daniel’s words wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Do you ever wish the butterflies would go away?” You ask after a moment, your voice soft.

Daniel shakes his head slowly. “No. I don’t think I do. Because if they did, that would mean I’ve stopped caring. And I don’t ever want to stop caring.”

You nod, understanding now in a way you didn’t before. The butterflies aren’t something to fear — they’re a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re still passionate, that you’re still fighting for what matters.

You smile softly, leaning in closer to him. “I think I’ll try to enjoy the butterflies a little more.”

Daniel smiles back, his hand gently resting on your cheek. “Good. You should.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace settle over you — a quiet understanding that, no matter what happens next, you’ll face it with open hearts and, yes, even a few butterflies.

***

The Red Bull Racing factory is a hive of quiet activity. The entire team, from mechanics to engineers, marketing staff to the senior management, stands gathered in a large meeting room just off the factory floor. Whispers ripple through the crowd, conversations hushed and speculative. It’s unusual to have the entire team assembled like this — especially during the off-season.

But today is different. They’ve been told that the team’s new owner will be making her first official appearance, and no one knows what to expect.

The announcement of Red Bull Racing’s sale had come out of nowhere, a shock to everyone. No one knew who the buyer was, only that it was someone with enough money to pull off the purchase in record time. The rumors had flown, the speculation mounting over the past few weeks, but nothing concrete had leaked. All they knew was that something big was coming. Something — someone — new.

The murmur of voices grows louder as the minutes tick by. Eyes dart toward the doors at the far end of the room, the anticipation palpable. Then, the doors swing open.

You walk in, a vision of confidence, head held high. The noise in the room instantly dies down, replaced by the stunned silence of dozens of pairs of eyes turning in your direction. Beside you, Daniel walks in, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, a familiar but unusual sight for the Red Bull team.

The shock is immediate, rippling through the room like a wave. Everyone stares, first at you, then at Daniel, as if trying to piece together how any of this makes sense. The whispers start up again, but you don’t let it faze you. Instead, you step forward with a wide, almost mischievous smile on your face.

“Good morning, everyone!” You greet them brightly, clapping your hands once, the sound echoing in the room. “I’m sure most of you have heard by now, but allow me to introduce myself formally. I’m your new boss.”

You pause, letting the statement sink in as the team stares at you in stunned silence. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m thrilled to be taking over as the owner of Red Bull Racing.”

There’s a beat of silence, the team processing the bombshell, before a smattering of hesitant applause starts. You nod, acknowledging the claps, but there’s still a palpable tension in the room. You know they’re still confused, still reeling from the surprise. You’re not done yet.

“And I have one more introduction to make,” you say, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You glance over at Daniel, who’s standing beside you, a little less sure of himself than usual but still flashing that signature Ricciardo smile. “This is my fiancé, Daniel Ricciardo.”

The room gasps. The shock is real this time, murmurs breaking out instantly among the team. Fiancé? Some people turn to each other, others crane their necks to get a better look at Daniel. The whispers intensify, but you continue as if none of it fazes you.

“And I have some exciting news for all of you today,” you say, your voice cutting through the growing chatter. You step forward again, your gaze sweeping across the room. “With the team being restructured, and with Sergio Perez deciding to take some time away from the sport to be with his family …” You pause, letting that hang for a moment, watching the confusion bloom on their faces. “I’m thrilled to announce that Daniel will be returning to Red Bull Racing as a driver next season.”

The room falls completely silent again, a collective intake of breath. For a long moment, no one says a word. Then, as if on cue, someone begins clapping. It’s slow at first, hesitant, but then others join in, and soon the room is filled with applause. The realization starts to settle in.

Daniel Ricciardo — back at Red Bull.

You glance at Daniel, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, you see the flicker of uncertainty in them, the weight of everything hanging in the air. But then, as the applause grows, you see the shift — the spark of confidence returning to him, the slow curve of a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Daniel steps forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd, but they don’t stop clapping for several more seconds. Finally, the noise dies down enough for him to speak.

“Wow, uh … thanks for that,” Daniel begins, clearly taken aback by the reaction. He rubs the back of his neck, his grin widening as he takes in the faces of the people who, not so long ago, had been his team. “I’ve gotta admit, it feels pretty good to be standing here again.”

A few people in the crowd chuckle, a ripple of warmth spreading through the room.

“I know it’s been a strange few years,” Daniel continues, his voice more serious now. “There were times when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get back to this place. But when Y/N came into my life, well, let’s just say she’s good at making the impossible happen.” He glances at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and affection, and you feel your heart flutter in response.

The room watches this exchange, enraptured. There’s something surreal about seeing Daniel Ricciardo, a former Red Bull driver, now standing next to the team’s new owner — his fiancée, no less. It’s a lot for them to process.

Daniel turns back to the team, his expression softening as he addresses them. “This place has always been special to me,” he says quietly. “I’ve had some of my best moments in my career here, and I’m so grateful for the chance to come back and create more memories with you all. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I’ve got a lot to prove. But I’m ready. I’m ready to give everything I’ve got.”

The room bursts into applause again, louder this time, more genuine. The team members seem to be warming up to the idea now, their initial shock replaced by excitement. A few of the senior engineers, who had been with the team during Daniel’s previous stint, exchange nods of approval. There’s a growing sense of anticipation, the mood in the room shifting.

You watch Daniel as he steps back, the energy of the moment clearly lifting him. He catches your eye again, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. His smile is softer now, more private, meant just for you. You feel a surge of warmth, the bond between you solidifying even more in this shared experience.

Then, clearing your throat, you step forward again, reclaiming the attention of the room. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” you say, your tone playful. “But don’t worry. Daniel and I aren’t here to shake things up too much … unless we need to.” A few chuckles ripple through the room at that. “We’re committed to making sure this team remains at the top of the sport. And we’re going to do whatever it takes to get there.”

The applause comes again, more enthusiastic this time. You can feel the room shifting from shock to acceptance, and even a little excitement. The Red Bull team is known for its resilience, for thriving in the face of challenges, and this is no different.

As the clapping fades, one of the senior team members — a man with graying hair and a knowing smile — steps forward. He glances between you and Daniel, then says, “Well, if Daniel’s back, I guess we better start preparing for some shoeys.”

The room bursts into laughter, and even Daniel can’t help but laugh along with them, shaking his head. “You better believe it,” he says with a grin.

Slowly, the group begins to disperse, people heading back to their workstations, some still murmuring excitedly about the news. You catch snippets of conversation — mentions of Daniel’s return, your surprising entrance, and speculation about what’s next for the team.

As the room clears, Daniel turns to you, his expression soft. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You smile at him, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. “It’s just the beginning,” you say, your voice filled with determination. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Daniel grins, reaching for your hand. “Yeah, but I think we’re gonna be just fine.”

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with excitement and love. Together, you’ve just taken the first step into a new chapter — one filled with challenges, risks, and plenty of butterflies. But you know, with Daniel by your side, there’s nothing you can’t handle.

And as you leave the factory hand in hand, the future stretches out before you — unknown, thrilling, and entirely yours to shape.

***

The roars from the Melbourne crowd reverberate through the air as the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix begins. The cameras lock onto Daniel’s Red Bull, the #3 flashing as it leads the pack by several seconds. The circuit is electric, and the commentators can barely contain themselves.

“Here we are on the final lap,” David Croft’s voice crackles through the Sky Sports broadcast, almost trembling with excitement. “Daniel Ricciardo, the hometown hero, is this close to claiming his ninth career win — and his first ever win here in Australia. You can hear the crowd, the energy in the air — it’s absolutely incredible!”

Beside him, Martin Brundle jumps in, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. “This is what the fans have been waiting for, for years. After everything Daniel’s been through — leaving Red Bull, bouncing between teams, and now back with Red Bull and at the front of the grid — this will be a monumental moment, not just for Daniel, but for every Australian who’s dreamed of seeing him on the top step here.”

The camera flickers briefly to the Red Bull garage. You’re standing at the front, practically on your toes as you watch the live feed with bated breath, every nerve in your body tense with anticipation. You’re surrounded by engineers, mechanics, and team members, but it’s clear that all eyes in the garage are on you. The new team owner, the mastermind behind Daniel’s return to the team. And now, you’re witnessing the culmination of it all.

“Look at that,” Brundle says as the camera focuses on you. “There’s Daniel’s fiancée and the new team owner, Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve got to imagine what this moment means for her too, after buying the team and making the bold decision to bring Daniel back. She’s been nothing short of instrumental in this comeback.”

Crofty’s voice grows louder as Daniel approaches the final few corners. “And here he comes now, through Turn 13, a perfect line through there — keeping it clean. The crowd is going wild, and you can see why! He’s a few corners away from victory, from making history on home soil.”

As the camera switches back to the track, Daniel’s race engineer comes over the radio, his voice steady but filled with excitement.

“Alright, mate. Just bring it home now. One more corner. You’ve got this.”

There’s a brief pause before Daniel’s reply crackles over the airwaves, his voice barely containing his elation. “I’ve got it, mate! I’ve bloody got it!”

The Red Bull flies around the final corner, the engine roaring, and Daniel rockets down the straight toward the checkered flag. The crowd’s roar is deafening as he crosses the line.

“And there it is! Daniel Ricciardo wins the Australian Grand Prix!” Crofty yells, his voice barely audible over the roaring fans. “His ninth career win — and what a win it is! His first win here in Australia, and you can just feel how much this means to him and the crowd!”

The camera immediately cuts back to you, your face a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. You’re laughing, hands clasped over your mouth as the enormity of the moment sinks in. The entire Red Bull garage erupts into cheers, people hugging and high-fiving all around you, but you’re frozen for a moment, just soaking in the euphoria of the victory.

“Look at her reaction!” Brundle says with a chuckle. “You can tell just how much this moment means to the team owner. It’s not just a win for Daniel — it’s a win for them. What a partnership!”

The scene cuts to Daniel inside the cockpit, raising his fists in victory as he slows the car on the cool-down lap. His voice comes over the radio again, almost breathless.

“YEEEEES! Let’s go! Oh my god, we did it! We actually did it!” Daniel shouts, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Mate, you’re a race winner in Australia!” His race engineer’s voice is filled with pride. “Take it in, soak it all in. This is your moment.”

“I’ve waited so long for this …” Daniel’s voice is quieter now, more introspective. “Thank you, everyone. This is unbelievable.”

As he makes his way around the track on the cool-down lap, the camera follows him, showing the thousands of fans on their feet, waving Australian flags and cheering for their hero. It’s an emotional scene, the kind that will go down in F1 history. The commentators fall silent for a moment, letting the raw emotion of the moment speak for itself.

Finally, Crofty breaks the silence. “Daniel Ricciardo has just made history. He’s become the first Australian driver to win here in Melbourne in front of his home crowd, and you can just see how much this means — not just to him, but to every fan in the stands.”

Daniel pulls into parc fermé, his car screeching to a halt under the massive “P1” sign. The mechanics are already leaning over the barriers, waiting for him, their arms raised in celebration. Daniel clambers out of the car, pulls off his helmet, and lets out a roar, his signature grin plastered on his face. The crowd erupts once more, their hero standing victorious before them.

The Red Bull team surrounds him, cheering and patting him on the back. But Daniel's eyes are searching, scanning the pit lane for you. Finally, they find you in the crowd, and without hesitation, he breaks away from the chaos and runs straight to you.

“Hey, boss,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, his voice barely above the roar of the fans. “Did I do alright?”

You laugh, pushing him back playfully. “I’d say you did more than alright.”

Daniel grins, his smile wide and genuine, and then he’s swept back into the celebrations, the team lifting him onto their shoulders as the cameras capture every second.

The podium celebrations come next, the lights glittering, the trophy standing proud. Daniel, Max Verstappen, and Charles Leclerc climb onto the podium, their faces reflecting the joy and exhaustion of a hard-fought race. The national anthems play, first for Australia, then for Austria, and the crowd sings along, their pride and passion tangible.

When the champagne is finally handed out, Daniel holds his bottle aloft, savoring the moment. He walks to the edge of the podium, holding his finger up to signal the crowd. The fans know what’s coming. The mechanics in the garage know what’s coming. You, standing just below the podium, know what’s coming.

Daniel unlaces his boot and fills it with champagne, holding it high as he looks out over the sea of fans. The crowd roars with approval.

“Oh no …” Brundle says with a laugh, watching from the Sky Sports commentary booth. “Here we go. It wouldn’t be a Daniel Ricciardo victory without a shoey!”

Daniel grins and, with the flair only he can pull off, drinks the champagne from his shoe. The crowd cheers louder than ever, reveling in the chaotic joy of the moment. Even Max, standing beside him, cracks a smile as Daniel offers him the boot, but Max declines with a laugh, shaking his head.

As Daniel finishes the shoey, he looks down at you with a cheeky grin. He points the boot in your direction, his eyes twinkling.

“Wanna join in?” He shouts down, loud enough for the camera to catch.

You cross your arms, shaking your head with a smirk. “Absolutely not.”

Daniel laughs, tossing the boot aside and grabbing the champagne again, spraying the crowd as the podium celebration continues. The cameras capture everything, the joy, the fun, the relief of a long journey finally reaching its pinnacle.

Back in the commentary booth, Crofty speaks again, his voice soft but filled with admiration. “Daniel Ricciardo, a winner in Australia, celebrating in true Ricciardo style. This win means more than just points on the board — it’s the result of hard work, perseverance, and a love for racing.”

Brundle nods, his tone warm. “You’ve got to hand it to Daniel, and to Y/N Y/L/N as well. She brought him back to Red Bull, believed in him when others didn’t, and now they’re celebrating together on the biggest stage. It’s a fairytale moment.”

As the champagne rains down on the podium, Daniel glances over at you again, his face still lit up with that signature Ricciardo grin. And even though you’re not up there with him, he knows that none of this would’ve been possible without you by his side.

This is your team, your driver, and your moment.

2K notes · View notes

thewispsings · 4 months ago

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personal photographer | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x photographer!reader

summary: the one where daniel ricciardo is dating his personal photographer.

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 527,153 others!

yourusername: my favorite daniel is a smiling one :D

view comments below!

user1: he looks so good

user2: y/n always makes sure she gets the BEST angles of daniel

user3: he is her bf 😭 can’t post photos of him off guard

maxverstappen1: gorgeous

yourusername: 🤨

danielricciardo: don’t be jealous baby (max we talked about this…)

maxverstappen1: i can’t help it, you look so good 🤤

yourusername: that’s MY boyfriend you’re talking about

maxverstappen1: until i make him mine ☺️

user4: #freeynfrommaxverstappen

landonorris: when can y/n come to my garage and take pictures for me?

danielricciardo: um never?

yourusername; don’t be rude daniel 🤨 just text me lando! we’ll figure something out

danielricciardo: um no you won’t. youre MY photographer, not LANDOS.

landonorris: i just want some pictures mate 😕

danielricciardo: WELL GET THEM SOMEWHERE ELSE

user5: jesus daniel it’s okay yns all yours…

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 725,018 others!

daniel3.jpg: the photographer gets photographed

view comments below!

user6: does anyone know what camera y/n uses professionally?? if you do pls let me know 🙏🙏

daniel3.jpg: she uses a canon EOS C70 cinema camera!

user7: that is…a 7 THOUSAND dollar camera.

user8: what the fuck

user9: sometimes i forgot that she’s like rich??

user10: i think that’s the camera daniel bought her as a birthday present, she used to use a Canon EOS Rebel T3i DSLR Camera!! that one’s more on the affordable side, and it lasted her yearrrsss

landonorris: oh but when i take photos of her it’s weird???

daniel3.jpg: YES!! she’s MY girlfriend

landonorris: I TAKE THEM SO I CAN SEND THEM TO YOUUUUUU

user11: y/n is so pretty 🤭🤭

daniel3.jpg: correct!!

user12: she’s so gorgeous

daniel3.jpg: 1000000% agree

user13: the easiest way to get a reply from daniel is to compliment y/n

maxverstappen1: why don’t you post me like this? 😕

daniel3.jpg: we’ve talked about this, you know y/n gets jealous

yourusername: WOW OKAY YOU SICK LIAR 🧍

user: i wonder how many pictures daniel has of y/n like this…

landonorris: LITERALLY thousands.

liked by danielricciardo, daniel3.jpg, maxverstappen1, and 410,017 others!

yourusername; he’s trying to take my job 😡

view comments below!

user14: he could NEVER do it like you tho

user15: y/n we know it’s like your literal job to take pictures of daniel, but pls pls pls the world wants more pictures of YOU

user16: uh pls tell me if the tattoo is on his butt cheek

landonorris: i know where it is 🤫🤫

user16: is it on his butt cheek???

user16: lando pls

user16: is it on the downstairs cheeks

user16: pls lando

user16: LANDO PLEASE

maxverstappen1: you get a tattoo for HER? but not for me. did you ever love me??

danielricciardo: baby please, you know you’re the only one for me

yourusername: he says as he places a kiss on my head AS we cuddle

maxverstappen1: YOURE A SICK MONSTER YN SICK SICK MONSTER.

user17: i’m so jealous of y/n

user18: you and me both sister

user19: i’m actually going insane I NEED TO KNOW WHERE THAT TATTOO IS

user20: man that chicken wing looks nice

user21: where exactly does one apply to take pictures of f1 drivers all day??

user22: wait..were y/n and daniel dating BEFORE she was hired or??

user23: they met on the job!! it was a straight out of wattpad moment

user24: you guys are the cutest ever

maxverstappen1: me and him are cuter.

user25: i’m starting to think it was never a joke..

. . .

notes; i’m thinking of making this like a series?? like f1 drivers dating their __ and it’ll be like, personal trainer, engineer, stylist, and things like that! thank you for reading ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

#daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo social media au #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 #f1 smau

2K notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 4 months ago

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a misunderstanding | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader x heidi berger

summary; in which a huge misunderstanding when y/n was on the paddock leads to a hate train on social media

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; hate comments, cursing

all works taglist; @goldenmclaren @namgification @c-losur3 @minkyungseokie @lavisenri @ollieshifts

note; requested !

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by heidiberger_, danielricciardo, and others !

yourusername: my bad guys, i’ll make sure to keep spare batteries in my bag

tagged; heidiberger_, danielricciardo

heidiberger_: i’ll carry them for u my sweet girl

yourusername: awh shucks ☺️

danielricciardo: i say go full on comando and leave your hearing aids at home

yourusername: and ignore you yapping?

danielricciardo: that’s what sign language is for, to keep yapping, duh🤓🤓

heidiberger_: like not wearing your hearing aids ever stopped danny from yapping

yourusername: ur so right babe

username: LMAOSLSKS UNBOTHERED😭

username: she dgaf i love her

username: as someone who is also hoh, it means sm that you are too❤️

yourusername: 🥹🥹

username: CLOCKED Y’ALLLL

username: knew my it girl wasn’t rude 💯💯

username: ok but her, heidi, and daniel are the CUTEST EVER😣😣

maxverstappen1: y/n may be hoh but that doesn’t stop her from listening to me😁

yourusername: unfortunately no one can stop maxplaining😕😕

alexandrasaintmleux: we’ll all carry spare batteries for u so ppl don’t think ur rude when ur the sweetest ever 😁❤️❤️

lilymunihe: #buyingthemrn

iamrebeccad: we got youuuu🥰🥰

heidiberger_:🥹❤️

yourusername: my girlssss🫂🫂

username: period💅

username: yall couldn’t have fooled me when there were COUNTLESS of stories of y/n being so nice 😭

username: EXACTLYY, at least we now all know it was a big misunderstanding 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #daniel ricciardo smau #daniel ricciardo scenarios #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader x heidi berger

2K notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

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Hooked On A Feeling (FIN)

Masterlist

Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.

Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)

43.6K

Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Aus Grand Prix Special

Wedding Special

Blurbs

Hoaf Stuff

High On Believing

Chapter One

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader

4K notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 3 months ago

Text

Feels Like Sabotage - Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge.

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull.

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow.

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?”

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead.

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror.

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.”

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left.

#2 Daniel Ricciardo

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down.

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier.

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.”

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her.

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head.

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!”

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them.

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!”

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian.

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.”

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media.

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.”

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car.

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference.

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground.

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage.

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering.

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?”

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile.

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling.

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.”

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye.

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne.

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose.

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.”

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye.

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly.

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?”

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.”

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless.

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.”

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend.

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite.

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.”

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout.

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her.

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?”

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver.

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation.

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.”

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max.

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

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itaipava · 1 year ago

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— f1 boys pulling you in their lap.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

he does this casually. most of the time he looks uninterested as he scrolls through his phone and when you pass by, he reaches out to grab you and pulls you into his lap without sparing you a glance. looks at you after and gives you a smile and says a simple ‘hi’ before peppering your face with quick kisses. shows you whatever he’s looking at or watching on his phone. this usually turns into lazy, cozy cuddling.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

he does this out of habit. he’s talking to someone but when he notices you pass by or feels you near him, he takes your hand and gently pulls you to him, letting you sit on his lap, all the while continuing to talk with someone else. mindlessly traces little patterns on your back or thigh. this only happens around people you’re both comfortable with and he does this so often that it doesn’t even bother the other person anymore.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he just loves having you on his lap so he will do it all the time. no matter what he’s doing, he’ll pull you into his lap and rest his chin on your shoulder, continuing what he was doing before.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

he does this out of nowhere, especially when he’s bored and wants to cuddle. he watches you intently and adoringly while you’re doing your own thing. and when you pass by him, he grabs your wrist and pulls you gently towards him. hugs you from behind while you’re seated on his lap and always leaves a trail of feathery kisses on your shoulder and back of your neck and wordlessly holds you close, resting the side of his face on your back.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he does this when he’s doing something but also wants to show you affection. distractedly says ‘come here, baby’ with his arms outstretched and pulls you to sit on his lap while he’s watching a movie or something. looks at you briefly with a small smirk and a raised brow before he continues with whatever he’s doing. rests his chin on your shoulder sometimes or gives you distracted, lingering kisses on your neck and shoulders although his eyes stay fixed on the screen.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

sometimes he does this unconsciously; he sees you passing by and gently takes your hand, pulling you into his lap. he brushes your hair off your neck and spreads soft kisses over your neck and shoulder before wrapping his arms around you, bringing you even closer to him - if that’s even possible.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he does that when he misses you. sometimes he keeps busy all day with work and unconsciously ends up leaving you out; so at the end of the day he just pulls you gently into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he leaves soft kisses on your shoulder, neck and cheek. he thinks this is such an intimate and unique act and he never gets tired of having you so close to him.

#formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic

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eccentricwritingbaby · 4 months ago

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f1 driver's bday posts for their babies

daniel ricciardo, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz jr, oscar piastri, logan sargeant, max verstappen, george russell

masterlist

danielricciardo - it's these two's birthday so the twin's are old now??? stop growing up! your dad commands it!!

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youruser - their mum commands it too!! they've gotten too big 🥺

danielricciardo - maybe it’s time to try for more … youruser - push two kids back to back out of you and then we’ll talk about more danielricciardo - 🤐

user1 - i feel like just yesterday the twins were born

user2 - ME TOO!! i miss the redbull days when they were so so small user1 - ikrrrrr 🥺🥺

user3 - i forgot how cute they are omfg 🥰

maxverstappen1 - playdate with p again when??

kellypiquet - ^^she’s been asking!! ❤️ youruser - so have they!! drop by anytime 💖 danielricciardo - come to the farm 😀 maxverstappen1 - danielricciardo no.

user4 - i love that they’re so close with p it’s adorable

user5 - i mean they were babies together at redbull so user6 - that's so cute 🥲

user7 - mclaren jumpscare

landonorris - chat i'm afraid the monster's grown now. birthday boy will forever be a messy boy tho, some things never change with age.

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youruser - my sweet boy, takes after you a little too much 😆

landonorris - and what's that supposed to mean? 🤨 maxfewtrell - you're a slob, just like my godson carlossainz55 - godson?? 🧐

user1 - he really is lando 2.0

user2 - youruser is really living my dream

user3 - NO FR!! cutest baby and hottest husband 😩 user4 - like how does it feel to be god's favourite???!!

mclaren - happy birthday mini norris! 🧡

user5 - even mclaren admin is obsessed with the little lad user6 - who wouldn't be?!

oscarpiastri - my nephew's getting so big

maxfewtrell - nephew??!! carlossainz55 - nephew??!! oscarpiastri - nephew!!!!

charles_leclerc - ma petite fille, joyeux anniversaire! mon monde entier et ma douce fille, papa t'aime tellement :)

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youruser - aye! she's getting too big! mon ange <3

charles_leclerc - our sweet baby ❤️

user1 - little leclerc is too cute

user2 - remember when she was born 🥺 user1 - how could anyone forget 🥺❤️

scuderiaferrari - happy birthday baby leclerc! ❤️❤️

pierregasly - let kika and i babysit again!!

francisca.cgomes - yes!! let us babysit 💖 charles_leclerc - you almost didn't give her back last time?? pierregasly - not our fault she's adorable youruser - i'll give you that one

arthur_leclerc - her favorite uncle can't wait to see her!

lorenzotl - 🤨 carlossainz55 - 🤨 pierregasly - 🤨 arthur_leclerc - i stand by my statement.

lewishamilton - it's my baby's birthday! my beautiful girl is four, can't wait for many more memories to come with my little love

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youruser - the last picture 😭 she's just too cute!

lewishamilton - gets it all from you, youruser youruser - 🥰😘

nicolashamilton - my lovely niece! give her a happy birthday kiss for me!

youruser - alwayss ❤️ lewishamilton - she said she misses her uncle!

user1 - the mini gwagon 😭 she's adorably spoiled

user2 - with lewis hamilton as her dad? i think she always will be lewishamilton - exactly!

roscoelovescoco - i's love's you's birfday girl 🥰

user3 - i love that lewis comments for roscoe user4- i know he's laying in bed laughing doing it too 😭

mercedesamgf1 - our merc princess! happy birthday! 🖤

user3 - oh to have lewis hamilton be my father

user4 - right??! the most stylish baby with everything she wants user3 - so jealous of a four year old rn ...

carlossainz55 - mi niño pequeño ya no es tan pequeño, feliz segundo cumpleaños hijo, pronto karting! 💪🏼💪🏼

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youruser - two years old already! time is flying!

carlossainz55 - flying like he will be on the track soon youruser - im going to choose to ignore that carlossainz55 - 😐

landonorris - ok so when can i babysit again

carlossainz55 - you lost him last time???!! landonorris - WE WERE PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK youruser - no.

user1 - he's so small omfg

user2 - so cute 🥺

user3 - are we all just brushing past lando losing him?

landonorris - HE WAS STILL IN MY APARTMENT IT WAS FINE charles_leclerc - whatever you say mate landonorris - HE'S A VERY FAST BABY lewishamilton - sure, kid

scuderiaferrari - the sweetest baby in red! ❤️

carlossainzofficial - mi nieto, feliz cumpleaños!!

youruser - he won't stop asking for you, abuelo! carlossainz55 - ven aquí! carlossainzofficial - on my way!

oscarpiastri - happy birthday to my aussie beach baby! to many more sunsets and rises

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youruser - many more sunsets 🧡💛

oscarpiastri - always, love 💛🧡 user1 - the hearts 🥺 i wanna love like theirs user2 - RIGHT!?

mclaren - does the birthday girl need some more merch?

oscarpiastri - we'd never turn down some papaya

user3 - she really is just a beach baby

user4 - i feel like they're always there 😭😭 youruser - gotta give her the best experiences! user4 - that's so sweet 🥺

landonorris - she's just so wee

oscarpiastri - wee little papaya baby landonorris - my favourite! 🧡

logansargeant - hugs and kisses for the birthday baby!

oscarpiastri - always, mate!

logansargeant - baby birthday baby birthday!! a whole year old and plenty more to come from my girl

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youruser - the buc-ee's hat😭

logansargeant - she had to experience the vibes youruser - and i believe she enjoyed it 🙃 logansargeant - everyone who goes, does enjoy it!

user1 - the fourth of july picture 🥺

user2 - she's so smallllll 🥰

oscarpiastri - tiny baby

logansargeant - wym she's gotten huge oscarpiastri - you've got dad brain, mate, she's tiny

alex_albon - my baby! come over and visit with her...now

youruser - only if lily's there, i don't trust you alone with my child alex_albon - logansargeant are you hearing this?? lilymhe - baby...you shouldn't be alone with her logansargeant - lilymhe thank you alex_albon - i will not accept this 😖

maxverstappen1 - he's five now! verstappen legacy is about to live on as he starts karting 😡💪🏼

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youruser - he's so big now! fifth pic he was just a babe

maxverstappen1 - he's almost all grown up youruser - do not make me cry right now verstappen user1 - into the dog house he goes

danielricciardo - mate, he might take your seat soon

maxverstappen1 - he's gotta fight for it danielricciardo - he 100% will maxverstappen1 - i know 😂 user2 - this kid is so loved yet challenged user3 - max is healing his inner child with his own little boy user4 - i know 🥺

redbullracing - you're just warming the seat for our star, which is him

maxverstappen1 - i already know, verstappen dominance crossing centuries landonorris - can you just give us a break, mate maxverstappen1 - no.

user5 - he looks just like his dad 🥺

georgerussell63 - my love is now three, but i remember when she was only a fresh few weeks, i love you so much baby

view all comments

youruser - pretty girl 🤍

georgerussell63 - our pretty girl 🤍 user1 - they're still so in love, it's so adorable

user2 - she's so rich 😩😆

user3 - they're like old money old money user2 - i know...i am green with envy

mercedesamgf1 - our favourite cheerleader! happy birthday 🖤

georgerussell63 - the best cheerleader around!

alex_albon - SHE'S SO BIG NOW

georgerussell63 - I KNOW alex_albon - but she's still so cute georgerussell63 - i know 🥰

user4 - she's the sweetest little baby

user5 - happy birthday mini russell!

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bunnys-kisses · 1 month ago

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kink-o-ween - day four

daniel riccicardo - cockwarming

cw: smut/pwp, cockwarming, size difference/kink, secret sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, daniel is horny (and needy), restaurant sex

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

you knew daniel could seduce a habit off a nun. he was an inferno that buried deep into someone and made them hot all over. you were no exception. your beloved danny had a mean streak in his, at least sexually. as much as you tried to push back on the insatiable lust he carried in him, sometimes the allure of the driver was too much.

you were confident that this dinner together would go swimmingly. one date before you spent the entire summer in your apartment feeding into daniel's sexual desires. after weeks apart, he hungered for you. therefore, you were proud that you managed to hold him off to have one nice dinner together.

so why were your panties in your boyfriend's pocket?

the place was quiet on a tuesday evening, the moon hung large in the sky and the food was delicious. but the food tasted dull on daniel's tongue, he yearned for something more. the weight of your cotton panties in his pocket was heavier than the wallet next to it. when he went to wash his hands before dinner, he took them out and gave them a good sniff.

call him perverted, but being exhausted from the intensity of racing left him little time to sate his other urges. he was running on empty by the time the season break occurred. so call him a little antsy for some affection from his beautiful girlfriend of almost three years.

you were mostly alone, you had the privacy to let daniel's eyes wander across your form. the softness of your face, how your curves looked into the dress you wore. he wondered if he could take you apart over the table and no one would notice. or care enough to say anything. he had that kind of buying power.

but he knew you'd die of embarrassment. it was bad enough he had to forgo your panties for the evening. but something crossed his mind that would make both of you happy.

"babe." he said as he propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin across his interlocked fingers, "come here. i missed you too much, you feel so far away."

you looked up from your meal and raised your eyebrows, 'danny."

he pouted a little, showing those big brown eyes that seemed to touch the depths of your soul. you sighed before you got up, you went to his side of the table and held his face for a moment before he got you down on his lap. you could feel his erection straining against his slacks.

"danny, if we need to. we can do it in the car."

"it'll take too long. your dress should cover any activities we do here. just warm it up a little. get familiar again." he kissed at your neck before he fed you a piece of his meal, "please."

you got off of daniel's lap for a moment and thanks to the privacy of where you were seated, he was able to get his cock out of his slacks and with a little work you got yourself onto it. you clutched onto the side of the table as you felt the stretch. maybe you two were a little less familiar than when he left.

the skirt of your dress has enough volume to cover both of your laps, hiding your activities of the evening. you rested against him, while his cock remained pressed against the softest parts of you.

"this feels insane." you said softly, but daniel silenced you with a kiss on the lips. his hand in your hair for a moment. he tasted like the expensive cut of meat he was having for dinner. it tasted good, but you knew he'd forgo food for a month if it meant keeping his dick in you.

"don't worry, babe." he said as he kissed your nose, "just don't be too loud." he remarked as he held your face for a moment, "we'll share my dinner tonight."

it was hard to ignore the growing of warmth in your middle. daniel ricciardo's cock was inside of you at an expensive restaurant. you were enjoying food, wine and the familiar girth of your lover's cock in your slick pussy.

so much could go horribly wrong, but the way his cock nudged against your sweet spot made you almost choke on your wine. you covered your mouth with your elbow as you swallowed the tart liquid. the coughs that went through you caused your pussy to clench which made daniel hold your hip tightly.

"careful, beautiful." he said as he kissed your shoulder, "don't want to get me too excited." then leaned over you to cut another piece of his food. he slowly fed it to you and kept his gaze on you.

most would assume this was some lavish display of public affection. not daniel's need to feel as close to you as he could get. you could feel the heat rise in your body as you rocked your hips a little. his cock was snug in your, but it felt right.

you ate and after you swallowed, he brought you in for a kiss. everything felt over-saturated as you mind tried to focus on everything at once. the lust, the food, the setting. it was a lot.

but you snapped back in reality when you heard someone's voice nearby. you looked over and saw the poor waiter by the table.

"how is everything?"

daniel leaned back in his seat a little, not enough to show what he was doing under your skirt. he smiled, "everything is lovely. thank you so much. actually, if you can, may we get some more wine?" his smiled was confident, like all seven inches of him weren't shoved inside your poor pussy.

the waiter nodded, "of course. i have to ask, is the chair you were seated in okay, ma'am?" he turned his attention to you.

you blinked for a moment, feeling the gaze of the waiter and your boyfriend on you. you swallowed, it was sink or swim. play it cool or have your face in the headlines. you took your lover's hand and held it close to your chest, daniel could feel your rapid heartbeat, "of course! i just really missed my boyfriend so i thought his lap was better option tonight." you gave your own smile, hiding that your core was shaking.

daniel looked at the waiter once more, "we promise everything is perfect." he laughed, "thank you though." then watched the waiter nod and walk off to get you some more wine. when he was far enough away, daniel held onto your hips and rutted up a little further in your sweet pussy. it almost made you choke on your drink once more.

daniel pressed his chest against your back, he curved over you like a shadow, "amazing acting, beautiful. if i didn't feel your heartbeat, i would've called it a convincing performance." he took the napkin and pressed it at the corner of your lips, "next time i'll order you some white wine. this is the second time you've choked, babe. don't want to ruin this pretty dress. it hides everything."

"shut up." you groaned a little bit, but composed yourself when the waiter came back with two glasses of wine. you thanked the man before he walked away and did your best to keep yourself composed.

daniel was feeling good, he knew he wasn't going to last long. and while he couldn't make you finish as well. but he'd make it when you got home, he'd happily lay you out for hours and devour your sweet pussy. he shifted his hips a little bit to get that rush through his body. he continued to feed you his meal, your meal grew cold. but daniel was more than happy to share.

"you're so beautiful." he said, "i can tell you're all flustered. poor thing." he chuckled low in your ear. he feed you some of the vegetables and kissed your chin where a bit of the sauce from the vegetables ended up. tasted better on your skin.

he moved against you a little more, small shifts of his hips allowed for him to get a little more friction against you. you felt like a dream, to daniel it was heaven. he buried his face into the back of your shoulder as the fork in his hand trembled. he came inside of your pretty cunt.

he shuddered and deeply exhaled. it took all the focus in him not to moan. he kissed an exposed part of your arm and muttered, "i love you. oh fuck, i love you."

you craned your neck to look back at him and were met with a kiss. heat was high in your face and you fanned yourself with daniel's napkin before you slowly got up on shaky legs.

when your dress exposed his wet cock to the evening air, he was quick to put it back in his slacks. he adjusted himself and leaned forward in his chair once more. his hands were still shaky as he picked up the wine glass and took a careful sip.

you knew that this was only act one of tonight's sexual adventures. you hoped that the rest of the even was less public. the last thing you needed was your face on the front page tomorrow. daniel reached out for you and held your hand across the table.

"i have to say." he said, "next time i wonder how well your pussy would pair with this wine." he chuckled and held the glass up with his other hand.

you could've thrown your napkin at him. daniel ricciardo, your loving boyfriend, could be an insatiable sexual hound sometimes. <3

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f1girliefics · 3 months ago

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Their Reaction to You Being Pregnant - Preferences

A/N: Both planned and unplanned pregnancies below.

Daniel Ricciardo

It was a planned pregnancy and yet it hit you like a truck. You have been trying for so long, you almost gave up.

You planned a special dinner and even bought a special gift for him.

Little socks.

You gave it to him during dinner and watched as his face morphed into confusion.

"Isn't this too small for me to wear?"

"For you, perhaps, but not for our little one." you put him out of his misery as his smile grew bigger and bigger and tears fell from his eyes.

He would be so proud to finally become a dad.

Max Verstappen

Your pregnancy was unplanned but it was a nice surprise.

You had a stable relationship and you did talk about children before.

The way you told Max was not cute or romantic, you just basically blurred it out one day while watching TV.

"Come on Max! Your baby mama is craving some popcorn."

Oops.

He was shocked but then you spoke again. "I'm pregnant." to confirm what you just said.

Once he is able to close his mouth and talk, he will tell you that he is indeed happy.

"I just can't believe it!" he said.

"With the way you behaved for the entire summer break... I'm not shocked." you gave him a wink as he handed you the popcorn.

Fernando Alonso

He always wanted you.

Even if you were years younger. You didn't care about his age, you loved him.

It was a complicated love with many headlines.

Your pregnancy became one of the biggest, claiming you are a gold digger.

But Fernando didn't care for the headlines. He loved you and your baby.

Even if it was an unplanned baby, it was definitely not an unwelcome one.

"I would do anything for the two of you." he promised you the day you told him about your pregnancy.

Lance Stroll

You told him about your pregnancy on his birthday.

At first, he didn't believe you, but then he would be so thrilled he picked you up and spun you around for two minutes.

You had to tell him you would throw up if he didn't put you down.

Lewis Hamilton

You two would be trying to have a child for years when you finally get pregnant.

Both of you would be told by your doctor after weeks of hope due to your symptoms.

He would be so happy, he would shed many tears and he would be unable to stop hugging you.

On your way home, you would stop by to start and plan your baby's room.

George Russell

He would be in the middle of a meeting when you texted him. He could only check your messages after the meeting. George would drop his phone upon seeing the picture you sent.

5 pregnancy tests, all positive.

He would pick up his now broken phone and call you, rushing to his car to go home.

But you picked up the phone and you sounded so happy, it made all his worries lift off of his shoulders.

"We are having a baby George! I'm so happy!"

All his worries and doubts, out the window, the second he heard your laugh.

George will never forget that moment and how he cried of happiness at a red light.

Lando Norris

You two constantly joked about you getting pregnant.

When you started using pills instead of condoms, it was a constant joke between you two.

Lando did like to play with the idea of getting you pregnant.

But neither of you was serious until you took a test.

Positive.

"Okay, that is only a little plastic, the doctor needs to confirm." he would say and the next day you would be at the doctor's.

And the doctor did confirm, you were indeed 3 weeks into your first pregnancy.

You two sat in the car after the visit in silence.

Your mind was empty yet is was filled with thoughts.

"Let's grab something to eat before we go home." he would finally speak, making you look at him, you smiled when you saw the happiness in his eyes.

All your worries were gone because you knew you two can do this.

Oscar Piastri

To say that your pregnancy was a shock would be an understatement.

Both of you stared at the result for hours in silence.

Then, you finally spoke up. "Well, at least now we know I don't actually hate you."

He would laugh. He would laugh so hard that tears would fill his eyes.

You and your baby will be in good hands. Oscar would be the best father ever.

Carlos Sainz

You were on a vacation in Spain when you started to feel sick. You thought it would pass but Carlos insisted on visiting a doctor. This is when the news of your pregnancy hit you.

You didn't speak much Spanish, but that word, you understood.

Almost like a truck, it knocked all air out of your lungs.

When the doctor left, you turned to Carlos.

"Looks like we will have a little one running around soon." he spoke as he laughed but tears also left his eyes. "I'm so happy." he said, finally calming you down.

Charles Leclerc

After getting Leo, you didn't even talk about babies anymore. You were happy where you were in that moment.

But of course, the universe and a heated night had different ideas.

Your pregnancy was confirmed by the doctor and now you just needed to tell Charles.

You travelled to his upcoming race and had a plan.

But that plan all went out the window the moment he finished first.

Suddenly you completely forgot about everything and everyone as he hugged you close and you told him.

"Now our baby can say their father is number one!" you didn't even realise what you said.

"You're pregnant," he said and you nodded, crying from happiness. "PREGNANT!" he yelled as suddenly the trophy in his hand wasn't the most important thing.

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fastandcarlos · 17 days ago

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When You Lay Down Between His Legs : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

You often laid between Max’s thighs when he was playing a game so that you didn’t get in the way. Your head would rest just above his chest, so if he was streaming or on a call with one of his friends then they wouldn’t be able to see you. It also meant that it was easy for Max to glance down and check on you when he wanted to make sure that you were alright without anyone wondering what it was that he was looking at, too ashamed to admit to his friends that he let you lay down between his thighs.

» Lando Norris

He often pinned you between his thighs when Lando wanted to annoy you, keeping his grip around you tight so that you couldn’t wriggle away and escape from him. He would just give you enough space that you could breathe, but when he wanted attention and wanted for you to stay with him, that was how Lando would keep you in his hold. He’d only let you go once you had promised that you would stay with him and pay him some attention, but if you tried to run away, he’d quickly latch back onto you again and refuse to let go.

» Charles LeClerc

One of Charles’ favourite things to do was play with your hair, and so you often laid between his legs so that Charles had easy access to be able to reach for your hair and do whatever he wanted to do. His fingertips would twirl through your hair as you rested your frame against his chest, relaxing into his hold. Your hair would fall against Charles’ chest, his thighs pressing against either side of your body to keep you warm. He loved trying to plait it or tie it up into some sort of bun, anything to keep him entertained.

» George Russell

Whilst George was still on his phone or reading one of his books, you’d often lay down between his legs and tuck yourself underneath him. It meant that George could still do what he was doing whilst you got a bit of rest, feeling him press against the top of your head repeatedly. Every time you shuffled his eyes would look up and across at you to make sure that you were alright before watching you settle back down again. When you did, George’s legs would squeeze against you just to remind you that he was there and that you were alright.

» Carlos Sainz

The feeling of your figure laying between his legs is one of those rare moments when Carlos finds himself feeling quite shy and embarrassed. He never quite knows how to respond when you lay so close to him, with so much of your body pressed against his. It takes a while for Carlos to settle as his body gets used to the feeling of you being there, especially when you find yourself exploring his body a bit. You know how coy Carlos gets whenever you lay there, which only encourages you to spend more of your time laying there too.

» Oscar Piastri

It was a slow process when you laid between Oscar’s legs. It would start with you noticing that the gap had opened up, finding yourself noticing how big his thighs were. Slowly you find yourself shuffling closer towards Oscar, laying down beside him first. It’s at this point he usually picks up on what you’re doing as your body rolls into his, lifting one of his legs up so that you can lay between them before dropping it back down, pushing yourself up so that your head can rest against Oscar’s toned stomach, filling the gap that you had found.

» Daniel Ricciardo

It was one of Daniel’s favourite places for you to lay, he loved the feeling of your back pressed against his chest leaving him feeling nice and warm. It was a particular favourite of yours too as it allowed you to trace over Daniel’s thigh tattoo. When you were feeling sleepy it would always be your go to place, lazily drawing over the patterns to make you even more sleepy, coupled with the feeling of Daniel playing with your hair it never usually took long when you were laid between Daniel’s thighs for you to end up falling fast asleep.

» Lewis Hamilton

Whenever you were feeling tired you would rest yourself between Lewis’ legs, your head against his chest so that you could feel the beat of his heart, matching yours with his. Lewis knew that it was a comfort place to lay for you, and secretly it was for him too. He loved feeling the weight of you on top of him, like a blanket of warmth against him. Particularly when he was feeling stressed, Lewis would invite you to lay down between his legs so that he could feel as much comfort from the hold as you did.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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thef1diary · 1 month ago

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Anytime, Anywhere | D. Ricciardo

Kinktober 4/11 - Free Use

Summary: it didn’t matter if you were in the safety of your home or not, Daniel could have you whenever he wanted.

warnings: 18+ smut, consensual free use, unprotected sex, slight breast play, lil bit of degradation, praise kink, fingering, Daniel’s like obsessed w your cunt

please note, though not explicitly mentioned, the free use arrangement is completely consensual from both sides aka no one is doing anything they don’t want to. also, huge thank you to @emchante for proofreading this, love you loads!

wc: 4.5k

kinktober masterlist

The kitchen is warm, filled with the comforting scent of herbs and spices simmering on the stove. You’re standing by the counter, chopping vegetables, the rhythm of the knife steady against the cutting board. It’s a quiet moment, one where you’d normally lose yourself in the task, but you can already feel Daniel’s presence approaching behind you.

“Danny, can you help me with—” The words are barely out of your mouth when you feel him press up against you from behind, his hands sliding around your waist, his chest firm. His lips find the curve of your neck instantly, peppering kisses all over.

You let out a soft sigh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access, but you try to keep your focus on the vegetables in front of you. Your movements slowed down, the rhythmic chopping faltering as his kisses grew insistent. His teeth grazed your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Daniel…” you murmured, but there’s no hint of resistance in your voice.

“I’m right here,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low. His hands roam lower, over your hips before dipping under the hem of your skirt. His featherlight touch glides over your inner thighs before grasping on the fabric, slowly pulling it up until it’s bunched around your waist.

Your breath catches in your throat as the cool air hits your skin, and though you try to keep chopping, your focus splinters under the heat of his touch. His fingers graze over the bare skin of your hips and trailing lower, until he reaches the space where your panties should’ve been. But there’s nothing. Just you, completely exposed and ready for him.

His soft chuckle vibrates against your neck, lips still ghosting over your skin. “Good girl,” he mutters, his voice a rough whisper. The praise sends a wave of warmth through you, your cunt’s wetness slicking your thighs as evidence.

Daniel’s hand lingers between your thighs, fingers gliding over your folds with deliberate teasing strokes. Ever since the two of you had agreed on this, there was no point in wearing anything that might get in the way of what he wanted.

You’d stopped wearing panties completely, abandoning them in favor of clothing that granted him easy access whenever the mood struck. Skirts had become your uniform—simple, accessible, and a constant reminder of your submission to him. All he needed to do was lift the hem, and you were his, no flimsy barriers in place.

Over time, he’d indulge you with a wardrobe full of skirts, each one shorter than the last. With every new skirt, the tease was more potent, the air against your bare skin constantly reminding you that you were his for the taking, any time he desired.

He’d spoiled you this way, every hemline a bit more revealing, every breeze between your legs a subtle promise of what was to come. And now, as his fingers glide over your wetness, you know exactly why you’d agreed to it. The ease with which he could take control of your body was intoxicating, leaving you vulnerable in the best possible way.

His fingers part your slick folds as he dips into your wetness, collecting it on his fingertips. He hums in low approval, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He sucks them clean, savouring the taste with a deep, satisfied groan.

Daniel’s body pressing you firmly against the counter is the only thing keeping you upright as your focus shifts from the task at hand to the overwhelming presence behind you. The rich, earthy aroma of herbs and spices simmering on the stove fades into the background, eclipsed by the intoxicating scent of Daniel—something undeniably masculine, warm, and familiar. His scent wraps around you, filling your senses as he holds you there, exposed and vulnerable.

His hand doesn’t stay idle for long. He reaches for the neckline of your shirt, fingers hooking under the fabric, and with one swift motion, he pulls it down. The cool air hits your bare chest, and your nipples harden immediately. You gasp at the sudden exposure, your body arching into the pleasure. You never bothered with bras at home, not when Daniel made it clear he preferred you without them.

“Just the way I like it,” Daniel mutters, his large hands cup your boobs, playing with the soft, supple mounds. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them with a featherlight touch that has you biting your lip, struggling to hold back a moan.

You suck in a sharp breath as he toys with you, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. You can feel him grinning against your neck, savouring the way your body responds to him without resistance. Your thighs tremble, wetness slicking your skin as you try, and fail, to stay focused on the task in front of you.

“Drop the knife,” he commands, his voice barely above a whisper, but the authority in it is undeniable. The tone sends a shiver down your spine, your fingers instantly loosening their grip on the handle. The knife clatters to the counter, forgotten as his hands slide down your body with purpose. Compliance comes easily, a reflex born out of the silent understanding between you.

He grips your hips, tugging you with him as he takes a few steps back, pressing your ass against his clothed cock. His rough palms spread your cheeks apart, and you hear the low groan of approval as he watches your arousal drip down your pussy and onto your thighs.

“Fuck,” Daniel muttered, his voice thick with lust. “Look at you… already so wet.”

You whimper, the sound barely leaving your throat as his fingers brush lightly over your folds, spreading your wetness further. You can feel him watching you, the intensity of his gaze heavy as he marvels at the way your body responds to him. You don’t dare to move, don’t even think of it, not when you know exactly what’s coming next.

Without warning, he reaches forward and swipes the cutting board out of the way, sending the vegetables scattering. His grip on your hips tightens as he bends you over the counter, pressing your chest flat against the cool surface. The sudden shift makes your breath hitch, and you brace yourself, palms splayed out on the flat surface beside you, your body already trembling with anticipation.

Daniel wastes no time. His hands grip your hips firmly, and you can feel the rough fabric of his jeans grazing against the back of your thighs. He hadn’t even bothered to take them off completely, too desperate to get inside you. The sensation of the denim biting into your skin is the only warning you get before he pushes into you—thick, unrelenting, and all at once.

A gasp escapes your lips, sharp and breathless, as your mouth falls open in shock. He stretches you to the limit, filling you completely in one brutal thrust.

“That’s it,” he growls, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Take it.”

The pleasure is immediate and overwhelming, your body instinctively arching to meet his rough thrusts. Each movement is purposeful, brutal, and all-consuming. You can feel how desperate he is to claim you, to remind you of exactly who you belong to. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the kitchen, mixed with your broken moans and the low groans coming from Daniel.

His hand moves down to your ass, spreading you wider as he watches himself disappear inside you, over and over again. The filthy sound of your slickness meeting each thrust fills the room, and he curses under his breath, eyes locked on the sight.

“You’re s’good for me,” Daniel grunts, pounding into you harder. “So eager to let me use you.”

Your mind blanks, your nails scraping against the countertop as you nod frantically, unable to form a coherent response. The only thing grounding you is the feeling of him inside you, fucking you like he owns you—and in this moment, he does.

“Fuck, Daniel…” you moan, voice shaky, barely audible over the sound of his cock thrusting into you.

He leans down, his chest pressing against your back, lips brushing against your ear. “You were made for this,” he muttered, his pace quickening, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Made to be fucked like this. Mine to take whenever I want.”

His words send you spiraling, your body tightening around him as the pleasure builds to a breaking point. He can feel it, too, the way your pussy clenches around his cock, and it only spurs him on, his hips slamming into yours.

“You gonna cum for me?” he breathes, his voice ragged with exertion. His hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that push you over the edge. “Cum all over my cock.”

It’s too much. The heat of his body, the roughness of his voice, the relentless pace—it all crashes over you in a wave of ecstasy. Your body shakes violently as you fall apart beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you, leaving you breathless and trembling as you moan his name.

Daniel isn’t far behind. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his grip on your hips bruising as he groans, spilling inside you. The sound of his release sends one last shudder of pleasure through your body, your mind blissfully blank as he slowly pulls out, leaving you empty and spent.

You collapse against the counter, your legs shaky and weak, trying to catch your breath. Daniel stands behind you, his hands still gripping your hips as he leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Now, what did you need help with?”

— — —

The gym is filled with the pounding beat of Daniel’s workout playlist, the bass reverberating off the walls. It’s a fast-paced mix, perfectly matching the intensity of his solo workout. Sweat clings to his skin, muscles flexing with every movement as he powers through his sets. He’s deep in the zone, the rhythm of the music syncing with the repetition of lifting, his breath steady and controlled.

You step in quietly, drawn by the sound of the music and the sight of Daniel’s toned body moving effortlessly through his routine. You don’t acknowledge him, knowing full well he’s focused on his workout, and head to the far corner of the gym, rolling out your mat. You’re dressed in a tight workout set—shorts that hug your curves and a sports bra that offers little in the way of modesty. It’s an outfit you’ve worn many times before, but today it feels different.

You drop into a series of stretches, starting with a deep forward bend, reaching for your toes. As you move, the tight fabric of your shorts clings to your skin in a way that’s impossible to ignore. The material molds to every curve of your body, hugging your thighs and pressing against your bare pussy—because you hadn’t bothered with panties. Or rather, you weren’t allowed to. Not when Daniel made it clear that panties were unnecessary.

With every stretch, the fabric pulls tighter against your cunt, the friction sending an unintentional wave of heat through you. You shift your hips, trying to focus on loosening your muscles, but it’s hard to ignore the way the material rubs against your bare skin, each movement causing a small pulse of arousal to build inside you.

You spread your legs wider, sinking deeper into the stretch, your mind momentarily focused on the satisfying pull in your hamstrings. But as your body shifts, you’re unaware of just how exposed you are. The tight material catches between your lips, pressing into your folds so much that it feels like you’re barely wearing anything at all.

You think it’s just the lack of underwear that’s making you feel so bare, convinced the sensation is all in your head. What you don’t realize is how truly visible you are—your pussy completely framed and outlined by your shorts, the thin fabric offering almost no coverage. It clings to every detail, highlighting the shape of your folds, as if the material is struggling to keep anything hidden. It’s almost obscene, the way your cunt is on display, but you remain oblivious, stretching and moving as if you’re not practically naked.

In reality, it would be better if you were completely nude, because at least then, the exposure would be intentional.

Daniel notices. He’s been watching you from the moment you walked in, his eyes tracking every movement as you stretch. The way your muscles flex and your body moves, wrapped in that tight workout set, has his blood running hot.

Daniel watches you with a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips, eyes glued to the sight between your spread legs. He’s more than pleased—thrilled, really—that even here, outside the privacy of your home, you follow his rule without hesitation. No panties. It may be a private gym, secluded and safe, but it’s the principle that gets him going. You’re obedient, even when you don’t realize just how exposed you are.

The music blares in the background, but it’s nothing compared to the sudden surge of desire that courses through him. His workout forgotten, Daniel sets down his weights and strides toward you, his eyes never leaving the curve of your ass as you drop to all fours in another stretch. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t announce his presence; he just watches, drawn to how the material of your shorts has ridden up, caught between your legs, displaying the full shape of your cunt.

You don’t hear him approach. Too focused on the burning stretch in your muscles, you arch your back, completely unaware that Daniel is standing right behind you. That is, until you feel it—his large, warm hand cups your pussy through your shorts, pressing with deliberate, unrelenting pressure. The shock of it sends a gasp spilling from your lips, and your body freezes at the sudden, unexpected contact.

“Daniel,” you gasp, your voice barely audible over the thumping music.

He doesn’t respond with words, only action. His grip tightens as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles through the material. His other hand grips your hip, keeping you steady as his fingers play with you, nudging your swollen clit with the same practiced ease that has your breath hitching.

The sensation is maddening, the rough drag of the fabric against your sensitive skin making it impossible to think straight. Your legs part wider instinctively, inviting him to do more, to take what he wants. His fingers trace along your slit, running up and down your folds, gathering the wetness that has seeped through your shorts.

Just as you’re sure he’s going to pull your shorts down and give you what your body craves, Daniel surprises you. With a swift, rough motion, he yanks your shorts even tighter against your pussy, pulling the material harshly up between your lips. The pressure is immediate and intense, the fabric digging into your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you that rips a moan from your throat. Your body arches into his touch, completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he growls softly, his voice laced with a filthy edge. “So fucking desperate, you should’ve just walked in with your pussy out, ready for me.”

His grip still firm on the waistband, keeping the material taut against your cunt, while his other hand slides down, giving your pussy a light tap, making you gasp as the sharp sting of pleasure mixes with the aching need that’s building between your legs. The second and third time he brings his fingers down, it’s directed at your clit protruding through the tightened fabric, each gentle slap sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

But just as quickly as it began, it’s over. Daniel steps back, his touch disappearing, leaving you panting, your body buzzing with unfulfilled desire. You glance over your shoulder, expecting him to continue, to fill your cunt—instead, he’s already walking back to his weights as if nothing happened.

The heat between your legs throbs, the feeling of his hands lingering long after he’s let go. You’re left hot and bothered, your pussy slick and swollen, but Daniel doesn’t seem to care. This is what he likes most about your arrangement — it’s not always about him using you to get off. No, sometimes it’s about watching you fall apart under his touch, teasing you until you’re aching for more and then forcing you to return to your mundane tasks as if nothing ever happened.

You finish your stretches, the lingering heat from Daniel’s touch burning in your skin, the wetness between your legs undeniable. Your shorts are already sticking to you, soaked from when his fingers slid over your slit. It’s hard to focus on anything else, but you need to move on, to pretend like you’re not dripping wet and aching for him to finish what he started.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to the weights, setting yourself up for squats, your body instinctively falling into the rhythm of the workout. The bar rests heavy on your shoulders as you lower yourself, the strain of your muscles distracting you only for a moment from the throbbing between your legs.

You bite your lip, trying to concentrate, but the sensation is impossible to ignore, the fabric no longer doing anything to hide how turned on you are.

You can’t ignore Daniel’s presence, no matter how hard you try to focus on your workout. It’s like a thick, lustful cloud surrounding you, suffocating your concentration with every heavy breath he takes. Every grunt, every clink of metal as he lifts weights echoes through the gym over the music, making your core tighten with each sound. He had taken his shirt off now, sweat glistening over the hard planes of his chest, his muscles flexing with every movement.

You pretend to keep your focus, but you can feel it—the weight of his gaze burning into your skin. He’s watching you. Waiting.

You lower yourself again, your muscles quivering with the effort, but it’s not the workout that’s making your legs tremble. It’s the slick heat between your thighs, the way your soaked shorts cling to your skin, rubbing against your clit with every movement.

You feel his presence before you see him, the space between you shrinking as he steps closer. By the time you rise from your squat, Daniel is right in front of you, his eyes dark with intent. He doesn’t waste a second—his hands move instantly, cupping your tits through your sports bra as you try to finish your set. His fingers knead the sensitive flesh, thumbs brushing over your already hard nipples, making you gasp and falter under the weight of both the bar and his touch.

“You really think I’m going to let you finish this workout?” Daniel’s voice is low, husky, dripping with lust. “Not with the way you walked in here practically bare.”

Your breath hitches, legs shaking as his hands roam over your body. You try to maintain control, to focus on the bar resting on your shoulders, but the way Daniel’s fingers trace along your sides, slipping down to your waist, makes it impossible to concentrate. He’s everywhere, his touch overwhelming, possessive.

“Save your energy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in close until his lips brush your ear. “You’re going to need it. You know I’m not stopping until you’re dripping in this fucking gym.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat surging through you, your cunt throbbing in response.

You shakily place the weight back into its spot, and as soon as your hands are free, they instinctively reach out to him, sliding over his sweat-slicked chest. The hard muscles beneath his skin flex under your palms, and you can’t help but bite your lip as you trace the lines of his abs, your mind already fogging with lust.

Daniel grabs your wrists, pulling you closer with a wicked grin, guiding you towards a workout bench. Your back meets the padded surface as he presses you down onto the bench. His hands move with purpose, pushing your thighs apart until you’re splayed open for him, your cunt visibly outlined by the damp fabric of your shorts.

Daniel’s fingers find the soaked material between your legs, pulling the fabric away from your dripping cunt, and pinching it until the wetness coats his fingertips.

His eyes darken as he looks at you. “Let’s make this easier, hmm?”

With a sudden, sharp motion, he tears the fabric right over your pussy, the sound of it ripping echoing through the gym now that his playlist had ended. The cool air hits your exposed, dripping cunt, making you shiver, but it’s Daniel’s fingers that make you gasp. He wastes no time, slipping two fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness as he drags them over your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers, his voice thick with lust as he circles your clit with slow, teasing strokes. His other hand slides up your body, pinching your nipple through your bra, sending a fresh wave of heat flooding your core. “You’re going to take whatever I give you, aren’t you? Right here, on this bench.”

Your body arches into his touch, legs spreading wider as you nod frantically, unable to form words. The thought of being taken right there, out in the open, dripping all over the equipment, makes your cunt throb with anticipation.

Daniel chuckles darkly, leaning down to nip at your ear as his fingers keep torturing your swollen clit. “Good girl. Now stay still, because I’m not stopping until you’re soaked in more than just sweat.”

In one fluid motion, Daniel pulls his cock out, thick and heavy in his hand, and the sight alone makes your walls clench in anticipation. He positions himself, the tip teasing the wetness between your folds, just barely brushing against your sensitive, slick skin. You’re so ready, your body practically begging for him, your pussy already pulsing with need as he slowly pushes into you. Inch by inch, he fills you through the hole in your torn shorts, stretching you in the most delicious way.

A guttural moan escapes you, your body trembling as he sinks deeper, the sensation of his cock sliding into your tight warmth overwhelming your senses. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried to the hilt, filling you completely, your walls hugging him snugly. For a moment, all you can feel is the way he fits so perfectly inside you, leaving you breathless and needy.

Daniel’s grip on your waist tightens, and he starts to move, his hips rolling into you with a slow but intense rhythm. Each thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, driving deeper with every motion. His fingers find your swollen clit again, rubbing in circles that match the pace of his hips, the pressure building with each stroke.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your moans growing desperate, your body arching off the bench as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you. He holds your legs apart, his thrusts becoming more intense, more deliberate, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you. The tension builds, and you can feel it—you’re about to squirt.

He pulls out just before you lose control. He taps your soaked cunt with his cock, the sensation almost too much as he rubs your clit, coaxing the orgasm out of you.

Your body shudders violently, and you cry out as your juices gush from you, soaking his cock and thighs. He keeps rubbing your clit, pushing you to the edge of overstimulation, making you gush even more. The wetness pools beneath you, and just when you think you can’t take any more, he slides back inside you in one swift thrust.

The feeling of him filling you again, his cock sliding through your slickness, sends you spiraling. He doesn’t hold back now, each thrust harder and faster than the last. Your body trembles, on the brink of another orgasm as he pounds into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every stroke.

“Come on, cum for me,” Daniel growls, his voice strained as he drives deeper, feeling your walls flutter around him. “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You can’t hold back any longer. Your body tenses, and with a broken moan, you fall over the edge, your cunt clenching tight around him as your orgasm rips through you. The pleasure is blinding, waves of heat crashing over you as your body spasms uncontrollably beneath him.

With one last deep thrust, Daniel groans, his grip on your hips tightening as he fills you, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, the heat of his cum mixing with your own. He holds you there, completely still for a moment, his cock twitching inside you as you both come down from the high.

When Daniel finally pulls out, the sensation of emptiness makes you whimper, and almost immediately, his cum begins to leak from the torn hole in your shorts. The warmth of it drips down onto the padded surface beneath you, mixing with your own slickness. Your legs are still spread wide, your body trembling, utterly spent and exposed.

Daniel stands over you, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin, your trembling thighs, and the mess between your legs. A satisfied smirk curls his lips. “Guess you’re gonna need to change,” he says, his voice low and teasing, like this is all part of some game you didn’t realize you were playing.

Still catching your breath, you blink up at him, the haze of pleasure lingering in your mind. “Shit… I didn’t bring a change of clothes,” you manage to murmur, your heart racing at the realization.

Daniel’s eyes darken with amusement, and he shrugs, completely unfazed. “No worries,” he says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You can walk home like that, shower later.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief, your pulse quickening at the thought of leaving like this, with a torn hole in your shorts and his cum leaking out of you. “You want me to walk home with my pussy out? You ripped my shorts, Daniel. I can’t walk around like this!”

He chuckles, stepping closer, his fingers tracing the edges of the torn fabric. “You were such a good girl for me, coming here without panties, knowing damn well how easy it’d be for me to get inside you. And now? Since you forgot a change of clothes, you’re gonna have to walk home like the little slut you are, with my cum leaking out of you and that hole in your shorts.”

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