#f3 smut

[pha55ed]

Infrunami || JMA21

type :: smut!

tw/cw :: gentle!dom!pepe, somnophilia, size kink, overstimulation

summary :: pepe has been away for almost 3 weeks and he's never been needier. but you're sleeping so peacefully, thank god you agreed to be able to use each other whenever.

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || OVULATING CELLY!!!

Usually when Pepe comes home, he'll dramatically yell out "I'm home!" for the entire world to hear. But this time, he simply opens the door, drops his bags and goes on a hunt to find you in the shared apartment. His shoulders are sore, his races were awful, and he needed an outlet for this all.

"Cariño," He called out for you. But it fell on deaf ears as he looked inside the bedroom to find you peacefully sleeping.

He feels a wave of softness run over him, simply just from seeing you after so long. It's like you're a drug for him. A smile appears on his lips as he quickly changes into some fresh pajamas. Except his pajamas is just his boxers, so it's not much "changing"

Before he jumps into his bed, he can't help but just stare at you. How you're so peaceful, cute pajamas on, hair all over the pillows. It's always been a joke from his friend group that he's a simp for you, but he truly is. You didn't even do anything and he already has a boner simply from appreciating your beauty.

"Fuck..." He mumbles as he reaches in his boxers, stroking his hard on. He gets on his knees on the bed, using his free hand to caress the small of your back that wasn't covered due to you moving a lot in your sleep. The soft skin touching his hand made him want more, need more.

Thankfully you both agreed before to allow the other to do whatever you want when they're sleeping. And Pepe has never been more grateful for this rule until now. He quickly reached for some lube in the nightstand's drawer, rubbing it all over his dick to make sure it wouldn't hurt.

His dick curves up to touch his stomach, the cold lube touching his belly made him hiss a little. But that didn't matter, as he slowly and gently pulled down your pajama pants and panties. It was like he was teasing himself just from getting a view of your cunt.

As if you would break from a gust of wind, his fingers softly touch your cunt. Rubbing it in circles in a gentle motion. You twitch from the touch, the feeling of the leftover lube from his fingers making you feel cold. But you didn't wake up. Instead, you just moved your body to face away from Pepe.

You facing away on your side, with your thighs touching together, only gave Pepe a better view of you . And also a tighter position to fuck you in. Pepe can't help but chuckle slightly, thinking that it's your body's instinct to get into one of his favorite positions.

He can't hold back anymore, propping both of his arms around your body as he positions his dick at your entrance. And like usual, he slips his tip in. Barely. You're too tight to even take more than the tip.

"Ow," you mumble loudly, blinking your eyes awake. As your eyes piece together the puzzle in front of you, you're met with Pepe sinking his head down into your neck.

"I'm sorry, cariño." He says in a groan as he pushes further into you, making your insides burn from the stretch. "Couldn't help it."

You moan lightly against his shoulder blade. To let him in easier, you move onto your back and slip your leg under his chest, putting you in missionary. Which is actually Pepe's favorite position.

His big frame became 10x times bigger when he was with you. His towering height, slight muscles, and masculinity were all exploded to an extreme level with you. You loved it and so did he.

Even though you feel the sting from him stretching you out, he's still not fully in yet. He had about an inch and a half that he needed to get in you. You moan again, wincing slightly as he begins to coo at you.

He balances his entire weight onto one arm, using his free hand to move the hair out of your face. His fingers caress your cheek and trace your jaw. "It's okay, it's okay" he whispers to you. "I'll wait."

And he kept his word, waiting until you give him a sign that you're ready. But he's not a jerk about it, that's the last thing he wants to be. He's patient and slow. Thrusting in and out so gently, as if you would break. He's loving it, feeling every bit of you wrap around him and each centimeter of him being soaked by you. Kissing all around your neck and lips, making sure you knew how much he loved you.

But for you, this is teasing. You're practically soaking the entire bed by the time he begins to finally pick up his speed. And the only reason he even began to go faster was because you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you aggressively.

"Faster?" He asks, making sure he understands you. You nod, letting a moan slip out from him thrusting in you yet again. "You sure?" A smile creeps onto his lips. Again you nod, knowing exactly what his smirk means.

And he starts. Thrusting in an out at a pace that had the bed frame hitting the wall. He moved one hand to pin both of yours onto the bed. The other hand was busy caressing your boobs and waist. Playing with your nipple and then admiring your curves.

He moved his head down from your neck, now facing your breast. His lips met your breast, sucking on them and twirling your bud with his tongue. All while thrusting in and out of you whilst the other hand was holding your waist. His grip was soft, yet controlling when needed. He halted you whenever you bucked upwards but would quickly loosen his grip to make sure he didn't hurt you.

You moaned out his name, begging to do anything to touch him back. But he didn't let you. Only he wanted to be in control, giving you as much pleasure as possible. "Mm please Pepe," you moaned out as he kept thrusting into you. His harsh pace was a stark contrast from his gentle touches.

"You wanna cum?" He misinterprets you. "Cum then," He mumbles and lets a small groan escape. "Cum, I'll just, agh, I'll keep going."

You shake your head, unable to use words from how much pleasure he was giving you. Even his voice was sending you into a further spiral. "N-No, wanna-" You let out a moan, needing a few seconds to continue your sentence "Touch you, mm, wanna-"

"No" He says instantly, thrusting extra hard into you when he says that. You swear that if you were to look down, you'd see a bulge in your belly from how deep his dick was hitting you. "Jus' be pretty"

And you obeyed him, who are you to not listen to him? He knew you too well. Your body was coming undone, feeling your stomach tighten and your brain get fuzzy. All you could think about was looking at Pepe's eyes while wondering if your bed would break. He knew you were close, going extra hard in his thrusts and even moving his hand to your clit.

He rubbed circles on your clit, making you yelp and cry from the overstimulation. But it was all you needed to finally cum, making your legs wrap tightly around his waist to try and halt him.

Pepe knew you too well, he's a caring man after all. So he quickly moved both hands to go under your back, lifting you up to now be stranding his lap. You thought that having your legs wrapped would stop his thrusting, but the new position made your legs useless. He used his strong arms to grip your hips, forcing you to bounce up and down on him.

"Pepe!" You screamed out, grabbing his shoulders for support as you feel your own cum drip down his dick, being forced back into you.

"You can 'ake it." He groans loudly as he focussing on watching your boobs bounce. "Relax, cariño."

[httpiastri]

I'm begging for smut with Paul my man with "teach me" and "is this ok?" maybe it's the first time they get that far and they are both kinda inexperienced and super soft, I'd you can make Reader the one that "teaches" that would be amazing

love your works have a great day 💕💕💕💕💕

thank you for requesting sweets!! esp thanks for requesting paul <3<3 my brainrot is so real. i had so much fun writing this and i rlly got too into it lol. hope u have a great day too!

18+ content below, minors dni!!

the feeling of his lips on yours is familiar. the way he tilts his head as he presses himself harder against you, the way his teeth sink down into your bottom lip, the way he licks into your mouth; it's nothing new, it's yesterday's news, such a comforting feeling.

but it's still never been quite like this before. there's never before been this eagerness, this impatience, this amount of lust. your hips don't usually roll down against his this hard, and he doesn't usually let out these kinds of moans. there's something new in the air, a new type of greediness, and none of you complain.

your knees are settled on either side of his lap, your arms resting on his shoulders as his large hands squeeze the top of your hips, thumbs drawing absent-minded circles into the skin. you're both left in your underwear by now, after an awkward but giggly stripping session, and you're sure the cute floral panties you're wearing have a damp spot already. however, the way paul is poking up at you from under the thin layer of his calvin kleins makes you realize you're not the only one who's pent up. paul's hands make their way up your sides, dipping inside your flowery camisole top, the pads of his fingers swiping along your upper ribs. his touch makes you sigh into the kiss, arms wrapping around his neck to pull yourself further onto his crotch.

you've never gone this far before. sure, you'd seen each other in just your underwear a few times, while getting changed together or when you went swimming together. and you'd made out plenty of times, with his hands all over your body and you gasping for air as he left bitemarks down your neck and along your collarbones. but you'd never gone further than some grinding and kissing, so this was definitely a new feeling.

paul eventually parts from the kiss, leaning back slightly to take in the sight before him. your flushed cheeks, your perked nipples poking through your top, your red and swollen lips. your eyes open and they meet his gaze, a bit questioning as to why he's stopped. his gaze is scanning your face, analyzing your features and looking for even a tiniest hint of uncertainty.

"are you sure about this, sweetheart?" his voice almost cracks when he speaks, too flustered and excited to keep calm.

you're nervous. you aren't exactly the most experienced – far from it, actually – and just the thought of this situation brought you chills whenever the possibility flashed through your mind these last few weeks. thinking about it has been a kind of common occurrence recently, as you figured this was approaching, but your mind never really got accustomed to the idea.

you can tell paul is a bit nervous, too. he's more tense than usual, muscles stiff under your touch and fingers trembling slightly as he holds you. he doesn't have a lot of experience either, and there's something special about being here with the girl he likes so much, in a situation where you're both so exposed and so raw, with so much trust in each other. it makes him tingle in a way he's never felt before.

"yeah, i'm sure," you finally get out, fingers moving to play with the hair on the nape of his neck. "you?"

he gives you a quick nod. then, he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, more gentle than before. when he parts this time, his fingers move down your front, fingers grazing your stomach. "what makes you feel good?" his touch moves down to the lace of your panties, fingers dragging along the edge. "teach me, love."

you take a deep breath, gathering all of the courage you have in your body. just do it, you tell yourself.

and then you reach down to take one of his hands in yours, pushing it into your underwear. you fold his fingers to only leave the pointer and middle out, dragging them back and forth along your wet folds while your eyes flutter closed. you position his fingers on your clit, pressing them down and drawing circles onto your sensitive bud as a you moan lowly.

paul's jaw drops. you've never been this bold around him before, and now he's watching his always oh so innocent girlfriend basically fuck herself on his fingers. he wasn't sure if this day would come, but he is definitely happy about it.

the circles increase in speed and your head is spinning already. you guide one of his fingers to your core, slowly pushing it inside you as a shiver shoots down your spine. you take him all the way down to his knuckles, pulling him in and out of yourself a few times before adding another finger. he stretches you out, and it's painful but also so good, and you never want it to end. after a while, the buildup gets too strong and you lean your forehead onto his shoulder, your grip on his hand easing.

paul takes your helplessness as a sign. this time without your guidance, he continues pumping you with his fingers, adding a third one when he deems you ready for it. "is this okay?" he asks, thumb brushing your clit every once in a while.

"yeah- just-" your breath hitches in your throat as you try to speak and he grins at the sound, so satisfied and content with himself and the way you're reacting to his touch. your hand lets go of him completely, instead coming up to rest around his neck as a string of sweet whines spill past your lips. paul grows uncomfortably hard as he hears you, craving you even more.

and when he pushes you to the top, helping you reach your high, you're left a shaking mess in his embrace. you clench around his fingers and the noises you let out are like music to his ears, ones he could never get tired of. he's still pushing in and out of you to help you ride it out, your hot breath against his skin so sexy to him. paul loves the way you're curled into his chest, with his free arm slung around your body to keep you close as you twitch and shudder occasionally. it makes him feel proud and thankful that you let him do this to you, that you came undone like this to him.

a warm feeling spreads in his chest when you finally lean back, drowsy eyes finding his. you slowly blink up at him, taking in the sweet grin of this godlike man in front of you, and your heart flutters when he presses a kiss to your forehead. "you alright there?" he asks.

"so good." your hand curls in the hair at the back of his neck and you pull him down to you, tasting his lips again. "so good i think we should... you know..."

the chuckle that vibrates from his chest makes you shove his shoulder, but you are not nearly strong enough right now for him to even budge. "i do know." his hands land on your waist and he flips you both over, laying you down on the covers as he climbs on top of you. "are you really sure about this?"

his gaze is genuine and caring, and you get the feeling that he'd be totally alright with stopping here and now if you wanted to. but instead, you nod your head. "for the hundredth time, yes."

he presses his lips to you one final time, mumbling against your lips. "thank you. i love you."

"i love you, too."

[snoopyreadstoday]

ill sell my soul for a paul aron x reader fic i swear to god

[formulakatya]

MET YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME | MICK SCHUMACHER

"living in a movie i've watched and funny, cause you couldn't have called it, met you at the right time, this is what it feels like"

not my gif :)

part 1

summary: where your best friend is sick of you thinking your not deserving of love and so she introduces you to a certain someone

pairing: mick schumacher x professional golfer!reader

notes: hi! sorry for the long wait but part 2 of ‘this is what it feels like’ is finally out, thank you for your patience 😭🤍

warnings: a universe where mick is in ferrari and ferrari aren’t idiots

—

“amazing drive, mick!” you smiled, congratulating the german, “congrats on that win!”

“thank you, (y/n),” mick smiled shyly as both of you exited the paddock and walked down the streets of monaco, the sun setting as nighttime came. “so, uhm…how’s golf going? lily says you’re amazing at it.”

chuckling, you shook your head, “i hope she didn’t oversell me to you.” smiling as mick let out a laugh, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own. “well, i just won my first major— the chevron championship— uhm, and i also managed to win the cognizant founders cup after that…before that i won the honda lpga tournament in thailand.”

“your kidding!” mick exclaimed, looking at you.

“oh no, did she oversell me? because if she did—“

“no, no! absolutely not,” mick smiled. “she talks about you a lot and before i met you i already had a good impression of you based off the things she said…and then i met you and you’re really just as much of an angel as she says you are,” he chuckled.

“really?”

“yeah,” he nodded, “and for the record, she never told me you were winning tournaments left and right…when’s your next one?”

“the lotte championship in hawaii,” you replied, “and why are we only talking about me? come on, lily says you have a dog!”

“she told you about angie?” he smiled as he scrolled through his camera roll quickly to find a picture, “she’s an australian shepherd.”

“stop, she’s so cute,” you shook your head, “i wish i had a dog…”

“i’ll let you meet angie one day.”

“please, that’ll be a dream come true.” laughing, you averted your gaze to the sunset as the both of you neared the restaurant.

mick smiled, admiring you for a split second. “am i allowed to say you’re pretty or is that too soon?”

—

you let out a deep breath as you took your driver from your caddy. spectators were crowded as they watched your group since you were the favourite to win. and you weren’t going to let the pressure get to you, absolutely not.

“approaching the tee, (y/n) (l/n)”

looking out into the fairway, you went through your pre shot routine before addressing the ball. drawing your club back, it wasn’t soon until the piercing sound of your metal club against the ball was heard as you looked where the ball went— twirling your club as you did so.

well done, good shot.

the other 2 players making their way to the fairway as soon as you picked up your tee and walked to your caddy, you gave a smile as you followed your fellow players to the fairway. whispering words of encouragement under your breath, you kept yourself calm as you found your ball in no time.

holding back a laugh upon seeing the small formula one car drawing stamped onto your ball, you looked at your caddy who gave you a thumbs up in encouragement before giving a glance into the crowd.

and you could’ve swore you saw someone you knew there.

gripping your club, you let a deep breath out as you repeated the same routine as before. swinging the golf club, the satisfying sound could be heard once again. squinting your eyes as your gaze watched the direction, you crossed your fingers together as it landed onto the green.

“not bad,” you chuckled, shrugging as you passed your club back to your caddy. “also is it just me or are my friends in the crowd?”

“it’s possible,” he shrugged, laughing as you two approached the green, your eyes glancing around the crowds before returning your focus back to the green as you did a quick analysis.

from where you were it would be a left to right, fast downhill putt. if you were able to find the right line and speed, you’d birdie the hole. and despite not knowing what your score was at the time, it was clear that it would be a putt that would decide your fate as a winner or the first of losers. marking your ball, you took another deep breath before stepping away, watching as your competitor run through her routine before making her putt.

the air grew tense as you wiped the sweat off your head, patiently waiting for your turn.

time seemed to slow down as you set up, your eyes focused on the ball as you concentrated on your putt. the soft sound of the metal hitting the ball could be heard as you watched the small golf ball roll down the green.

“go, go, go,” you mumbled under your breath, watching nervously as the ball slowed down as it approached the hole. “YES!”

smiling as you gave a hug to your caddy, thanking him for his congratulations as you quickly searched the bustling crowd with your, shaking hands with your competitors before you went on the search— confident that you’d find someone you knew in the crowd.

“(y/n)!” the familiar voice of lily could be heard as she squeezed her way to the front of the crowd, “that was amazing! oh my gosh! congratulations!”

“thank you so much, lily,” you smiled as you hugged her before pulling away only to see alex and a familiar blonde stood behind. “mick?”

“hi,” he smiled, giving a shy chuckle as he waved his hand. “lily said you’d be playing so i decided to come. congrats!”

“thanks, mick,” you smiled, a light blush forming on your cheeks as he pulled you into a tight hug, “it means a lot.”

“do you wanna go out to celebrate? dinner’s on me.”

“but you payed last time!” you exclaimed, “let me pay!”

“then take it as a date,” he shrugged. “and let me pay, my love.”

—

“i’m still mad you didn’t let me pay.”

“well…” he chuckled, “that prize money isn’t spending itself and i much rather spend it on a girl like you.”

“and no one else?” you asked playfully, resting your head on your palm as you looked outside the window.

“only a fool wouldn’t choose you,” he paused, “and based off my results in school, i count myself a genius.”

[violetszone]

Quality time

Arthur Leclerc x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: just a nice valentine with Arthur

Prompts: “You told me you wanted cliche, so I got you a teddy bear.” / “This reminded me of you.”

WARNINGS: Quick finish,not edited writing

Valentine's day with Arthur was always sweet but you never asked him to get big gifts you cared about inner things and being a hopeless romantic unfortunately meant you loved clichés.

When you woke up in the morning Arthur was hugging you, you poked his arm and made him wake up he kissed your head and hugged a little tighter "Good morning my love happy valentines day"you smiled and kissed his cheek Arthur was going for a morning jog as usual, and you were going to prepare breakfast for the two of you at the time.

You went to the kitchen and started to prepare your breakfast, you didn't realize how the time passed, Arthur had come home and you were cooking the last pancakes when he announced that he was going to take a shower.

While you were putting the plates on the table, Arthur entered the room.He was hiding something behind him. You sat across from each other. He handed you what he was hiding behind it was a little teddy bear it also had a small bouquet of flowers in its hand.

“You told me you wanted cliche, so I got you a teddy bear.” you laughed and hugged the teddy bear "Also this reminds me of you, its looks like you" you put the teddy bear aside and hugged Arthur."Thank you Arthur this is so sweet, it could be the best valentine gift" 

You had your breakfast together and enjoyed the day. For you, Valentine's Day was more like trying to spend the best quality time you can spend together.

[daddyricsdoll]

Ur so real honestly I was taught not to go in strangers cars but if that stranger is paul my common sense is going out the window and I’m going with him lmao, honestly I wish I was a writer you all seem so imaginative and you can put all the words onto “paper” and share it with other people whereas I sit here with nothing in my head trying to decide if for my bedtime imaginary story™️ I think Paul would wanna do unimaginable things in his sexy car or weather he’s too much of a total gent or weather he’s just a tease till we get wearever we’re going honestly I envy the way ur mind works -🫶🏻

I think that common sense would be to go in Paul’s car. And I think quite a lot of my imagination comes from delusion but at least we’re here to try and put the beginning of your thoughts into a story/fic.

Paul knows how to treat a girl so I’m sure he will be a gentleman and once he hears the moans leaving your mouth from his fingers he doesn’t want it to stop so he starts teasing you. Even edging till you try and slip your hand down to try and make yourself cum but he can’t let you do that.

You beg him so many times and it’s like music to his ears and when you finally cum he doesn’t let you get a break. Once he finds a secluded spot he gets out of the car and opens your door, just to kneel down and put his head between your legs.

He’s so talented with his tongue and he teases you, but not as much as before, letting you cum as your fingers pull on his hair tightly. Then finally you get to feel his dick slide into you and leave you speechless.

[taegularities]

y’all... :’)

[majusialikesfastcars]

could you please write any fluff stories with pepe (pepe x reader). thanks in advance :)

here 🫶

[sunflowerstothesun]

The game of control (18+)

Luigi Mangione x fem!reader smut

SUMMARY : you lose a bet to Luigi and he makes you play a game of chess you can never win.

WARNING: dubcon, noncon, coercion, overstimulation, manipulation, non consensual use of sex toys

a/n: I got inspired by a tumblr ask that was sent to someone else so shoutout to them for the idea and sorry if i ruined it. send me asks if u want me to write anything.

Luigi started with his pawn. e4. That much was always a given. It was his favorite opening move—a subtle declaration of dominance over the game and, by extension, over you. He didn't need to do anything different this time either.

You could predict all his moves, and yet he would still win.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the anticipation and tension making it hard to concentrate.

"Your turn, sweetheart," Luigi whispered, his voice low and dripping with mockery.

Before you could fully process his words, the sudden buzz of the vibrator began.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, and the embarrassment hit you instantly. You covered your face, wishing you could disappear.

Luigi chuckled, his usual condescending amusement evident. His sharp eyes were fixed on you, observing every reaction like a predator.

"Look at you," he teased, his smirk growing. "Already falling apart. And the game's just started."

This wasn't just about chess; it was about control. He had always wanted to see you like this—squirming, struggling, entirely at his mercy. This was his test, his game.

You forced yourself to focus. Moving your black pawn to c5, you met his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

His smirk widened as he turned off the vibrator. Relief flooded through you, and you exhaled deeply, grateful for a brief reprieve.

Your insides were on fire, and you could feel the wetness through your panties. The fact that your body had such a reaction to something you despised was unbelievable.

Luigi made his next move—a calculated knight to f3. You knew what he was doing, the trap he was setting, but before you could even reach for a piece, he turned on the device again, more intense this time.

A sharp whimper escaped you, and your hands trembled as you tried to steady yourself. You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to touch the source of your torment, but Luigi's large hand quickly caught yours.

“What do you think you're doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please..." you whimpered, your voice trembling.

"Giving up already?" he taunted, the corners of his mouth curving into a cruel smile. His words sparked something in you—rage, defiance, or maybe both.

You reached for the board, determined to prove him wrong, and moved another pawn, opening a path for your queen.

Luigi's eyes gleamed as he leaned closer. He always saw through your strategies before you even committed to them. His next move, a bishop, targeted your queen with ruthless precision.

Your breath hitched as realization dawned. You'd walked straight into his trap.

The vibrator surged again, hitting every nerve, and you gasped, your body trembling uncontrollably. Unable to hold yourself up, you collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face in the sheets. Luigi's hand found its way to your hair, his touch gentle, almost tender, as he stroked your head.

"There, there," he murmured, his voice dripping with honeyed mockery. "You're doing so well, my clever girl."

Tears stung your eyes as the sensation overwhelmed you, every fiber of your being on fire. He had always teased you for your inexperience, for being “a virgin,” and now he used it against you.

"It hurts..." you whimpered despite not wanting to, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know, sweetheart. But you're handling it beautifully," Luigi said, guiding your gaze back to him.

Desperation flared in your eyes as you pleaded with him silently. He stripped away your shorts, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

"Good Lord," he muttered, amusement flickering in his voice. "You're soaking wet just from this."

The vibration intensified again, and this time, it was more than you could take. Your body convulsed with the unbearable sensation. You tried not to wail too loudly, but you were sure that's exactly what he was trying to hear—and why he was doing this.

Luigi's hand rested on your waist, his fingers brushing your skin in a maddening contrast to the torment. His fingers rubbed around your abdomen and then near your belly button, knowing it would drive you crazy. He knew everything about you. It was impossible to escape his keen observation.

Luigi’s fingers reached further down, encircling your inner thighs. He poked the vibrator, and your back arched as you moved your hands to stop him. He quickly held them above your head with one hand. Then, he pushed the vibrator inside as far as it would go, observing your reactions as he did.

A loud cry escaped your mouth, and this time, you couldn't stop it.

“I know, my love. It's okay, hush,” his words were sweet—a contrast to his rough grip on your hands.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he whispered, getting close to your face as he softly kissed your cheek.

You held in your squeaks, unable to look him in the eyes, which earned a smile from him.

“Please… stop it… please.” You could only speak so much before your words became incoherent with all the sniffling. You knew he had power over you—physical and emotional—and you hated being so weak.

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say because he only smirked before increasing the speed to maximum and holding your trembling body steady.

“If you can't handle this, how will you ever take me, sweetheart?” he tilted his head to the side, still gripping your hands with one arm and caging your body with the other.

He rolled up your top and kissed your stomach, leaving trails of kisses everywhere, as if to savor every inch of your skin until every spot was marked with his name.

He rolled the top up even further until it was above your head, making quick work of it as he tied your hands with your own clothes.

His fingers traced the outline of your breasts, while the other hand pressed the nipple bud gently through your bra.

He pushed the rest of the fabric up, leaving you bare. Your body shivered, even in the absence of winter-every fiber of your being was on fire, and the heat was palpable.

The trail of his kisses moved upward,

lingering on your breasts as his fingers softly brushed around, getting closer and closer to the sensitive buds with every touch. The sensation made your back arch as you fought against the restraints, helpless to move.

When his fingers reached the most sensitive spot, he brushed gently before squeezing, leaving you an overstimulated mess beneath him.

He alternated between light touches and firmer ones, covering your mouth whenever he bit you and pressing you down on the mattress as you tried to move. his attention was unyielding, ensuring every part of you was aware of him. When he paused, he leaned in to peck your lips softly, silencing any words that might escape.

His gaze held a mixture of intensity and admiration as he looked at you, studying every detail of your disheveled state as if you were a painting he created.

Tear-streaked cheeks, smeared lipstick, and damp lashes painted a picture he seemed to savor.

"Beautiful," he murmured softly, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Now, name your move, and I'll stop."

You weren't sure if you believed him, but you forced yourself to focus through the haze.

"B-block the queen with the... bishop," you stammered, your voice trembling.

Luigi chuckled low in his throat, a gleam of approval in his eyes. "Impressive," he remarked, turning off the vibrator at last. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting.

You sagged against the mattress, shaking and trying to catch your breath. Your mind was clouded, but you had survived.

Luigi leaned back, smirking as he savored your exhausted state. "I'm proud of you baby" he murmured, his tone sweet yet laced with something darker.

For a moment, you thought it was over.

"Do you want me to take it out?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

You nodded weakly, too spent to speak.

"Hm." He pretended to contemplate. "Why don't you push it out yourself, love?" He brushed a strand of hair from your face as he made the suggestion, his tone teasing but edged with cruelty.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, but you were too tired to protest. With your hands tied and his mood unpredictable, you knew he could leave you like this all night. The more you cried, the more his control over the situation solidified.

He chuckled, his tone softening. "I'm joking."

"You did so well, my brave girl," he said again, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that felt almost parental, though his intentions were anything but pure.

But then his eyes darkened, his smile taking on a wicked edge.

"But you still lost."

He turned his attention back to the board and, with one swift motion, moved his knight into position.

"Checkmate," he declared.

It was over before it even began.

Your lips parted, trembling as you tried to form words, but no sound came.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

[0mg-bird]

Sunrise~ Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: The curious case of the tornado wranglers, down to earth, girlfriend.

A/n: I just watched Twisters and am in love. Right now Sunrise by Ryan Bingham is my favorite song so here’s a little one shot inspired by it.

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Everyone’s called you crazy ever since you were born. The people in your small Texas town said you were the wild child, your parents had four boys and when their baby girl came around, she had a mean streak just like her brothers. Ten years old and standing in an empty corn field, looking at the thunder heads forming above you, hot and muggy air gusting against your skin, the crack of thunder didn’t scare you, you were utterly curious and amazed. You’ve known storms since you were a babe, you remember the shrill sound of the sirens going off and your mama screaming for you to come inside. Your family was in a panic, you remember your daddy letting the horses loose and the way the cattle ran. That funnel touched down and prayers were prayed, you watched from the bathroom window despite the way your mama dragged you away.

It was beautiful, so utterly terrifying in the distance, a force of straight power.

You were hooked.

Telling your parents you were going to the University of Arkansas to study meteorology was a good idea in theory until they told you becoming a weather girl was a sweet job.

You told them about storm chasing and your mama almost had a stroke.

But you’ve worried everyone your whole life, only you would choose something so crazy.

You met Tyler your sophomore year when you had the same class, your energetic personality hid the fact you were a nerdy kind of cowgirl. The two of you quickly became best friends, despite his cocky personality. You formed a dare devil connection, you were the call he made when he got a lead on something.

Graduation came and you said you were going back home, he hated that idea.

“Come with me.” He said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, everywhere.”

It’s hard to say no to a man with puppy dog eyes.

Somewhere between gathering a crew up from all over the boons and adopting a one eyed dog you found stranded after a storm in Little Rock, the two of you fell so deep for each other, it hit harder than any storm you experienced.

Here you are now in Oklahoma, cutting through fields in Tyler’s red Ram truck. “Lilly, talk to me.” You call over the radio system on the dash, looking for what data the girl in the vehicle following has. In the backseat, Boone, the right hand man, is recording like always, talking to the followers.

“Welcome back guys, we’re currently back at it again in the Oklahoma plains. This beauty we’re going into is gaining speed, turning into something good. What are we thinking, Tex?”

You look to the camera and smile. “You know, I’d like to call this an easy F2 but the strong updraft we’re getting here could push this baby into the F3 category.”

Also from the back seat, Ben, the London journalist asks to explain what you just said.

The rain cap starts and muddies the earth, the truck drifts as Tyler maneuvers it greatly. You pull your sunglasses off and lean forward to get a better look at what you’re driving into.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?” Tyler asks, seeing the way you evaluate the area.

“Take a left, it ain’t gonna hit the tree line, see the way the wind shifted?” You instruct.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, giving you one of his perfect grins before making a sharp left.

Ben makes a sort of strangled cry of fear as he gets tossed around in the back. You, completely nonchalant, chewing on a Red Vine, turn to look at the Brit.

“Ben, baby, how you feeling back there?” You ask, pointing something else out to Tyler.

“Oh I’m bloody great.” He lies before getting knocked into the door again. You laugh. “Man, I love this guy.” You declare, finding him so amusing. “Let’s keep him, Ty.”

He rolls his eyes at you, making you scoff. You look at the dog in your lap who’s wearing a tiny helmet with the words ‘Killa’ written across the front. “What you think, Rocky? You wanna keep Ben?”

The dog lays his head down and places his paw over his small snout.

“Rude. Ty, Rock used to agree to everything I say, now you’ve done gone and brain washed him. Poor fella.” You pout before yelping in surprise at the way Tyler drifts into a spot. He grips the radio, calling for the convoy to assume their positions.

“Sorry, I’m no expert but it looks like the twister is going to roll right over us.” Ben says as everyone buckles their harnesses.

“You’re exactly right Benny boy.” You say, opening the center console and placing Rocky inside his designated safety seat. “We need to be in its path so the data bugs we’ll launch have enough wind speed to reach the height needed. Put your harness on and you’ll be about as secure as a pistol in a PTA Mama’s purse.”

Ben looks to Boone in question. Boone just shrugs. “At some point you get used to all the odd shit she says.”

Tyler cranks the E brake, then looks at you with a smirk. “You wanna touch my joystick?” He ask, motioning to the control stick that has the button to activate the drills that will anchor the truck into the ground.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You scrunch your nose, pushing the button.

The truck is secured, you’re all buckled in tight, now you have to focus on when it’s the perfect time to launch the processors. Things are blowing against the windows, Tyler’s laughing and Boone is howling into the camera, showing the viewers what they see.

“Tell me when.” Tyler says, and as thick water drops pummel the windshield, you stay silent, waiting…watching.

“Now!” You shout and he presses the button that activates the hydraulic opening lid to the tub in the truck bed, the small bug sensors fly out and are carried up into the funnel that is passing over you.

“Breaker breaker, what are we seeing?” You call into the radio, Dexter in the caravan off in the clearing responds. “We got eyes, Tex. Data is coming in clear.”

You shoot your arms up in victory, this was the first time you were launching the 2.0 sensors. “There we go!” You look directly into the camera Boone is pointing at you. “You see that kids? I still got it.”

You watch the storm pass you, the funnel goes into the distance and the winds calm a bit as you unbuckle your harness. You’re pulling the pup from its safety and throwing open the door, running to the spot it just was.

“Whoo!” You hear Tyler whoop, and you throw that snapback hat of his you were wearing, adrenaline pumping through you. He sweeps you into his large arms, twirling you around. “Did you see that, baby? God, that was beautiful.” He laughs and you pull on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I sure did, let’s go get those bugs before we lose their signals, cowboy.”

Later as you set up camp in some cheap motel, Ben is approaching Lilly and Boone with questions.

“I need a story about the girl, uh Tex? Does she have a name?” He settles into one of the fold out chairs and motions to you sitting on the roof of the truck, looking up at the stars and listening to the music playing on the radio.

Lilly chuckles and then makes an adjustment to her drone. “She does, but she’d kill you if she found out you was using her government name in your fancy paper.”

Ben finds that interesting, he writes a few notes about a very mysterious persona you have. “How long has she been in this business? I tried to ask her some questions but she shushed me and told me she was ‘meditating to a Childers song’ and it was very important that she did this.”

Boone shakes his head. “She says confusing stuff to make people go away when she wants her peace.” He explains. “Tex is the original, her and T were the ones to assemble the squad of us, they taught me everything I know. She might be crazier than he is if I’m bein’ honest, always pushing the limits but every move she makes is calculated.”

Lilly agrees. “She’s my best friend, but has always been a curious case. She comes from Texas, hence the nickname and the accent that gets too thick when she’s drunk. Mama wanted her to be this Southern belle but she turned out to be a real wrangler. She’s the smartest person I know, but has a very relaxed way about her.”

“Who?” Dexter asks as he passes by.

“Tex.” They answer.

He shakes his head. “That girl’s a tree hugging loon.”

Ben quickly comes to know the dynamic of you and Tyler. There is no home but each other, you make the best of every situation because you are together. Two pairs of cowboy boots and wide eyes, that’s what you two are.

“I’d compare her to like…a coyote.” Lilly determines. “She’s the perfect balance of wisdom and foolishness, always willing to make light of situations. One time, we were tracking a desert storm in New Mexico and we were camping in our trucks, it was hot, all our leads were gone and we’re ready to turn back. The sunrise comes and it’s prettiest thing I ever seen, we wake up to just a color spill of orange and pink. We open our doors up and Tex is out there dancing in a sports bra and boxers.”

Boone leans back in his chair, laughing at the memory. “Man, we thought she finally lost it, that being with Tyler for so long finally made her go off the rails. T is standing there, watching her, asking what the hell she was doing and she claims she was doing a rain dance.” He says, making Ben chuckle to himself.

Lilly lights a cigarette and rolls her eyes. “She was out there shaking her ass.”

“You fucking joined her!” Boone argues, taking the cigarette from her.

“Well yeah, you don’t let your best friend dance alone. And what happened that day? The rain came and the biggest thunderheads I had ever seen blew in. The lightning was beautiful, Ben, you shoulda been there.”

New Mexico rain was a memory you thought of often, it just felt a little fresher. Blame it on the heat you were dying of or the thirsty land you stood on, but you stood out in it, getting soaked to the bone and then fell into Tyler’s arms.

Now, far away in Oklahoma, Tyler stands looking up at you soaking in the moonlight. “Come down from there.” He calls. You lean over the edge of the roof and look at him. “Why don’t you come up here?” You challenge.

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m tired, darlin’. Let me take you inside.”

You look back up at the stars, then slide from the top of the truck, making him reach out and catch you. “Alright, take me to bed you old man.”

He shakes his head at your comment. It’s hard to resist anymore, you just looked so gorgeous underneath the moonlight. He leans to kiss you, nothing too deep but still of passion because he loves tasting the sugar of your lips, you were always so sweet that it made his head cloudy.

Arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist, the two of you say goodnight to your friends and head to your motel room, Rocky trotting after you. The lock on the door is hard to budge open, the room has a sort of stale smell.

As Tyler is distracted by setting up a bed for the dog, you grab your things from your duffel. “Dibs in the bathroom.” You shout before making a run for it. Tyler groans and tries to beat you, but you stand in the doorway, sticking your tongue out at him. “You just gotta be faster.” You tease before shutting the door in his face.

The low bulb light casts a hazy orange glow to everything, you start the shower and find it to have weak water pressure. Your clothes make a pile on the floor and soon the air steams up.

Your muscles relax as you wash off, you let out a small groan at your fingers scrubbing your scalp. The sound of the shower curtain being pulled back and Tyler stepping in behind you makes you turn. “I haven’t even been in here that long.”

He shrugs, then moves to hog the water. “I got impatient.”

After being with someone for so long and sharing everything, nothing really fazes you. The crew jokes that you and Tyler could probably morph into one body at this point.

By the time the two of you are mostly rinsed off, he’s getting handsy. His fingers trace over your handful of tattoos, wet skin sliding across you in a feverish way. You lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him. “Ty…”

He looks down you was an innocent smile. “Oh come on, we’ve been traveling with people for too long. We get one night without Boone gagging when I kiss you.” He says, then leans his head down, nuzzling into your neck.

You bite your lip at the feeling, your arm coming up to run your hand through his hair. “Who’s in the room next to us? These walls are thin.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” He mumbles, hand slipping far past your navel, earning a loud gasp from you.

You lean your weight back against him, nodding feverishly as his fingers do wonders to an aching spot between your legs. “Okay, not having Boone around is really good.” You breathe.

He’s practically holding you up, his other arm is around you, holding you to his chest while he makes you fall apart.

It didn’t matter that the room hasn’t been updated since the 80’s or that the mattress groaned under the weight of the two of you or that Rocky runs and hides, the two of you were savoring this alone time because you didn’t know when the next time would be when you got it.

You’re laughing, making out and switching positions. The feel of his hand running past the valley of your breasts and giving your throat the lightest grip, it makes you feel on fire. The headboard’s getting knocked into the wall, you’re breathlessly whining and he’s loving every reaction you give him. By the time you’re gripping his shoulders so tight and his name is sounding broken as it cuts from your throat, he’s barely holding himself up.

The air conditioning makes an odd hum sound as you lay against him, skin on skin. You never understood how people could get bored of sex after being with someone for a while, having sex with Tyler Owens was hotter than west Texas in the Summer.

Well, the first time was a little awkward. Most people don’t establish they love each other before they sleep with each other, but you guys did. When you sat in his lap, lips slotted against his, you had to fight to push the idea out of your mind that you were grinding against your best friend. Everything was slow and every touch was unsure, after it ended you were scared that the relationship dynamic would never work if this was how sex was together.

You laugh now, thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, fingers tracing the long horn skull that is tramp stamped on you.

“I’m just remembering the first time we had sex.” You shake with amusement. He groans. “You have to stop bringing that up.”

Pushing up from his chest, the blanket falls off of you. He watches in amazement as you swing your leg over his waist, your hands planted on his chest. “I think it’s cute, we were just babies.”

“Yeah, sometimes I miss the days where I didn’t know how insane you were.”

You glare, immediately going to move off of him before his grip yanks you back to your spot.

“I’m kidding, I always knew you were crazy.” He says.

“You love it.” You lean over him, and his hand comes to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “You know I do, darlin’.”

Falling asleep was easy, you could fall asleep anywhere, but in a bed with Tyler holding you to his chest, it had you dreaming in seconds. You wake before he does, slowly sliding away to get dressed. You stand at the balcony outside, a cup of coffee in your hand as you watch the sunrise. After a few moments of peace, the door behind you opens and out comes your lover boy.

“No rain dance this morning?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

“There’s plenty of rain in Oklahoma, they don’t need me to shake my ass in the parking lot for it to come.” You state, leaning down to pick up Rocky who trailed out after Tyler.

The two- well, three of you, look out at the horizon line, the air is already getting hot.

“You ready?” He asks you, and you turn to kiss his jaw. “I’m always ready.”

[holllandtrash]

fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information. 

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt. 

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try. 

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You. 

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was. 

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did. 

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better. 

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point. 

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues. 

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated. 

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word. 

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco. 

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend. 

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you. 

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you. 

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there. 

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you. 

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager. 

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever. 

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen. 

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers. 

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck. 

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about. 

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could. 

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?” 

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained. 

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time. 

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.  

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time. 

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked. 

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes. 

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you. 

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking? 

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic. 

At least, you thought you didn’t. 

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.” 

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing. 

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.” 

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.” 

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while. 

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment. 

He wasn’t going to let it escape him. 

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you. 

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere. 

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend. 

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could. 

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips. 

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words. 

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth. 

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him. 

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications. 

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before. 

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain. 

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear. 

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat. 

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night. 

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team. 

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time. 

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful. 

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed. 

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too. 

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between. 

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride. 

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car. 

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you. 

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage. 

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you. 

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story. 

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday. 

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. 

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered. 

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out. 

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner. 

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point  and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts. 

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea. 

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel. 

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry. 

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on? 

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1. 

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different. 

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race. 

And somehow, you won. 

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe. 

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red. 

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you. 

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team. 

He was so proud of you. 

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching. 

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that. 

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining. 

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name. 

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love. 

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it. 

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love. 

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence. 

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions. 

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?” 

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face. 

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently. 

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation. 

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season. 

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it. 

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren. 

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel. 

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023. 

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early. 

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked. 

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders. 

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different. 

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break. 

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily. 

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours. 

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news. 

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

Your heart sank. 

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked. 

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?” 

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response. 

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done. 

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work. 

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life. 

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other. 

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you. 

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three. 

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career. 

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel. 

part 2 haunted

[adventuringblind]

Make Me Yours

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: chaotic smut (I'm a slut for this man)

Summary: Daniel mentions something to Oscar and he takes a shot in the dark.

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, blood, intensive aftercare, Max and Daniel being big brothers, Oscar is a dork and we love him for it, enemies to lovers if you squint, soft dom Oscar, Reader is a mess for Oscar and he loves it.

Notes: This was an anonymous request! I hope you like it!! Please remember to communicate and take care of yourselves if you engage in a kink like this!! Reader is a Redbull rookie which I know is ridiculous but it's fiction.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She wouldn't say her sex life is vanilla. Definitely the opposite, actually. Most people would look at Oscar and assume he is the most boring human on the planet.

They are all wrong.

Most the drivers, including herself, teased him about how he knows two positions maximum. He'd gotten fed up with it and showed her exactly why everyone is wrong.

Turns out pent up tension from being rivals from F3 and F2 leads to these situations. The situation being mind-blowing sex with the one guy who you didn't want to admit feelings for.

Formula 1 is an unforgiving world. She didn't need feelings getting in the way. Until Oscar came along and ruined it all.

Until that night, at least. Now they are stuck together like glue. It drives Max and Daniel insane with how much he's around the Redbul garage.

She tried to use the 'best friends' excuse until Daniel caught them in her driver's room.

"It's always the rookies."

That being said, her problem isn't the sex, or Oscar, or her relationship at all. The problem is how to bring up something she would like to try.

Both of them like trying new things and have been very clear on boundaries and keep open communication about the subject. He's never judged her for anything she's brought up. So why can't she just ask him?

"Something on your mind?" Daniel appears from thin air, and she slams her phone down out of view. She prays he didn't see the pictures of the silver blades and thinks she a psycho.

"Nope," she squeaks. A terrible recovery on her end.

"Watching porn? Looking at Mr. Piartri's nudes? Come one, you can tell me!"

Max pokes his head out from around the corner. "Are we talking about sex?" Here she thought the secluded space would be far away enough for them to come bother her. Then again, Daniel could help her out. He's good at talking to people.

"Pretty sure you and Charles talked about it last night." She quips without looking at him.

She's blushing and embarrassed. Her brain is yelling at her to run as far away as possible before she does something stupid-

"Hey Daniel, you know about sex stuff right?" Wow, that doesn't sound awkward at all.

"Yes?" He quirks his eyebrow at her. "But if you're looking for a threesome I'm going to have to decline. For now, at least," he winks.

She chokes at the notion. She's going to explode at this rate. Time to bail out. "Never mind, it's not that, but it's dumb."

Max appears fully in her line of sight. "You can't leave us hanging now! Oscar not performing well anymore?" His expression suddenly goes dark. "Or if he hurt you, I won't hesitate to send him into the barriers."

"No! no, it's not him it's me. I don't know how to ask him about something."

Both the males soften. It eases the anxiety a tiny bit, but she'd still rather not be here.

"Hmm, can I ask what it is?"

"A kink," she whispers away from him.

Daniel hears it anyway. "Yours or his?"

"Mine."

Daniel, now seeing he's not going to get anywhere like this, tries a new approach. "Look, this is a no judgment zone, right? Max talks about Charles and their sex life any chance he gets. I am an open book. No laughing or cringing, okay?"

It still feels weird having this conversation. But Daniel isn't going to let it sit now. Curse her impulsive mouth. "Knives. I want him to use a knife on me."

~~~~~

Oscar is sitting in wait around the Redbull motorhome. His girlfriend had said she'd meet him out here and he hasn't seen her all day, so he came early.

Media days are usually difficult for her. The journalists manage to find some new sexist thing to point out every race weekend. It drives all the drivers insane. They can't just let it go and move on to something new.

"Hiya mate!" Daniel appears around the corner and Oscar manages (just barely) to not jump out of his skin. "You waiting for your girl?"

"Yeah, I'm early though. Do I need to go?"

"Nah, you're fine." Daniel throws him a grin. "I'm curious how you keep the marks on her hidden. Been wondering for a while now."

Oscar blinks. His brain is trying to process the last Statement. "You mean... like a hickey?"

"No! The scars." Daniel looks like he's just said the most obvious thing. Oscar is still trying to remain neutral in what is definitely an odd conversation.

Scars? What scars is he talking about? "I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see it! That girl totally has some kind of knife kink."

Knife kink?! Where is this coming from? He tries to think back to any hint of it on her end. It's not like he's opposed to trying new things and he wouldn't be shocked if she felt weird about bringing it up.

"I'd ask her about it mate." Daniel winks and disappears into the crowd of people.

Oscar tries not to think too hard on it. It's just a weird comment made by Daniel in passing.

At least, that's what it started as.

Oscar then finds himself doing research on it. A deep rabbit hole that now occupies far too much space in his brain.

The idea of her permanently some kind of mark he puts there drives him wild. Which is odd, because it hasn't before. A visible hickey every now and then does the trick. Satisfies him when they go out places.

After the first 'I don't see your boyfriend,' he started putting one on her collar bone. Not visible unless she deems it so amd fresh enough to ward off any suspicious characters.

Curse Daniel for giving him this stupid idea. Something more permanent than a hickey sounds appealing.

If it were up to him, he'd keep her in his pocket. It's funny, really, how she thought he didn't know about her feelings. Oscar had played the game for two years. Then he couldn't take it anymore and he snapped.

Yes, she's snarky and moody, and as picky as Lando, until you get past the hard exterior and see she's all soft and squishy. Most of the time, anyway.

He asks her about it after Silverstone. He's coming down off his high and drunk on the adrenaline paired with a shot of success. The confidence boost is really what he needs to put the idea out there. As outrageous as it seems, Daniel might have a point.

"I was thinking about something." He starts off with. She flops onto her bed. Not his since Lando manages to get into his room at the worst times.

"Something good I hope?"

"Depends." Oscar adjusts their position so he can cradle her. The way she snuggles into him like an affectionate cat makes him melt. "It's kinky."

"The best kind of thoughts to have!" She taps his nose with her index finger to accentuate each word.

Oscar steels himself for the possible outcomes. "What if we tried knives."

There is an unmatched look of pure shock on her face. Oscar is prepared to reassure that she doesn't have to, until he notices the glint.

"Yes! I mean - yeah, we should give it a try."

Huh, so Daniel was right. Oscar will have to thank him later for the tip. "We need to talk about it first. I'm thinking either talk now and do it or we save it for a later date."

"How about we talk now, then see?"

"Sounds lovely."

~~~~~

The more Oscar talks, the more she wants it. It's ridiculous what he does to her with merely his voice. Or maybe it's the constant regard for her wants, needs, and safety.

Yeah, it's true what they say: consent really is sexy.

"Love? Did you hear what I was saying?" His voice has they soft mellowness about it that calms the raging see of her emotions.

"No..."

"Stay with me, yeah? I'll put this off if you aren't coherent enough to truly consent to anything." Yep, sexy. No doubt about it.

"I'm here, promise! Just got distracting... thinking."

"About?"

She waits a beat to see if he's willing g to drop it. He makes no indication he'll be moving on, however, making her forced to answer. "Your voice..."

She is going to combust at this rate. It's embarrassing how wrecked she is already. Oscar hasn't even touched her, but the sight of him with the glinting silver blade in his hands has her going feral. The crazy eyed, drooling kind that makes her seem like she should be locked up.

The fact Oscar spent over two hours in discussion and has research to back up every point her makes drivers her wild. She would happily spend the rest of her life with him even after a measly two years together.

He's ruined her. Oscar has made it so she will never be able to leave. So what if she's dramatic? Can you really blame her when she has Oscar Piastri standing in front of her looking ready to devour her?

Oscar takes his time. It's slow and gentle kisses, nimble fingers finding their way around the canvas he knows so well. "Fucking hell you're gorgeous."

She takes a mental note of the way she's in no clothes and he's got all his own. It's unfair and she tugs at his sleeve to signal she wants it off. Oscar complies and pulls the fabric off.

He goes back to licking his way around the inside of her mouth. Her hands relax around his body, taking comfort in the warmth and closeness of the skin-on-skin contact.

His fingers slip through her folds and like muscle memory locate her clit. It's pathetic the sounds he's getting her to make. Specifically, while holding the pocketknife, unopened, in his free hand.

"So pretty for me love. I would cut you up and put you in my pocket if I could. Carry your cute ass around with me like a good luck charm."

She's so far down the rabbit hole of her favorite headspace. Oscar's words are just swimming around her, until the sound of the black clicking open pulls her back into reality.

He presses the flat part of the blade against her arm. The cold of the metal sends a shiver running down her spine.

Oscar is looking deep in the eyes, mapping out every emotion and physical reaction she's having to the sensation. "Color?"

"Green, very green, the brightest of greens-" Oscar shuts her up with a kiss to her temple. It's gentle and meaningful. Enough to turn her right into a blushing mess.

Oscar checks in frequently every time the blade moves. The masochist is jumping for joy when the tip barely rests against her shoulder blade. "Are you ready? Want me to mark you? Shall I make you bleed for me?"

"Please," She whines.

"Keep your eyes on me yeah? You say red and I stop."

She signals that she understands and would like to continue. Oscar traces the line he wants to make.

She hisses when the knife presses downwards. Oscar panics, but he watches her eyes roll back and knows to continue. "Eyes on me, love. I want to see how pretty you look."

The cold stinging sensation makes her whimper in pain and moan in ecstasy all at the same time. He's still talking to her. Voice still calm and gentle. He's watching her intently, tracking every shift until he's done.

He keeps a hand on her to let her know he's still present as he tucks the, now closed knife, safely onto the bedside table. Despite looking so composed to everyone else, she notices the small thing about Oscar's shift in demeanor. Like how his pupils are staring at her, just the slightest bit tinged with the desire tor take her in the next ten seconds.

He resists and makes sure she is ready for that first. "Color?"

She slurs through an ungodly number of praises and words resembling 'green'. Oscar basks in it. He sits and caresses her skin as he watches the cut to make sure he really did go light enough.

Small beads of red appear at the surface, but not enough that he's concerned with first aid at the Moment. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Osc? Are you still green?"

Oscar softens again. "Yeah, I'm green, just taking in the sight and - happy I didn't stab you." He's breathless and panting. His jeans straining and her hands aching to get her hands on him.

There is so much love and kindness leading up to him finally getting inside of her. The towel underneath her shoulder catches the run-off red. It falls away with every thrust of his hips and rock of her body.

They hit the edge to quickly. Falling over it in white hot pleasure and moans of joy.

"You're such a good girl for me. You did such a good job." Oscar whispers in her ear as he wipes the cut with disinfectant.

Oscar carries her blissed out body to the bathroom and lets her look at the wound before bandaging it. A perfect heart now rests on the peak of her shoulder. Not massive, but enough to be seen without looking to close.

"I love it."

"Yeah? You ready to bandage it?"

"Do we have to?"

She doesn't get her way. Oscar bandages the heart and gets them cleaned up. Then it's water and snacks in bed.

"I never thought you'd be into it."

"I wasn't until Daniel brought it up."

Her entire being stills. Maybe even goes pale and Oscar looks at her in confused worry.

"I might have asked him for advice on how to ask you... about this."

Once again, his face softens. "You know you never have to be afraid of asking me." A gentle smile appears on his face. "I do think we'll have to thank him for this later."

"You're just going to inflate his ego."

"Maybe it's worth it if he keeps giving me advice." Oscar winks at her and smirks.

Yeah, maybe Daniel's pestering isn't to bad.

~~~~~

Oscar stands waiting for the drivers parade the next race weekend with all the other drivers. He's waiting patiently for his favorite rookie to come and join him.

Instead, he is once again jumping out of his skin because Danile is grabbing his shoulders from out of nowhere. "Could you not, like, scare me? Please?"

"But this is more fun! Certainly not as much fun as you had, I'm sure. I saw the scar." Daniel wiggles his eyebrows.

Oscar is blushing, he can feel it in his face. The words he wants to say are not coming out like he intends. "yep, I - um... thanks."

"Let me know if you need any other advice." Daniel smirks and claps him on the shoulder, Leaving Oscar a mess.

This is why I get teased; he thinks.

[httpiastri]

3k celly masterlist !!

celly navigation ll main navigation ll f1 masterlist ll f2/f3 masterlist

oscar piastri

hand squeeze (kinda college!au)

paul aron

"i missed you" kisses (popstar!reader)

"good morning" kisses

holding his wrist

pepe marti

sitting in his lap (college!pepe)

fred vesti

resting your head on his shoulder (friends to lovers!au)

jack doohan

in the dark kisses

liam lawson

hand squeeze (bff/fake relationship!au)

clement novalak

tickling hugs

luke browning

breaking down mid-hug

jak crawford

breathless kisses (teammate!jak)

© httpiastri 2024 – please do not copy, repost, translate or plagiarize my works on this or any other platform.

[mickriccenergy]

Shiver

Chapter One - We Were Just Kids

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader (I mean, come on, how could I not?)

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, blood/injuries (not graphic, but there is are mentions of it!), mentions of being on a diet, not proofread, angst, young love, unrequited at some point, smut at some point, but ya know. but let me know if I missed any!

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ 3.9k words

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Age 7

Everything was changing. Your mind, your friends, your school, your family, your home. And not for lack of trying, but you had already had been at three different schools and you were only seven years old. (Almost eight, you would remind your parents and your older brother incessantly.) Yet, here you were, a stranger to anyone and everyone. And to make matters worse, you were also in a completely different country… on a completely different continent. At least when you’d have to move again in the states, you’d have something in common even if insignificant, with whatever person you were sat next to in your class. This time around your father was moved to Germany of all places. You had heard about the country and the pretty castles that they had there, but you couldn’t feel more out of place here.   So there you were, standing in the cafeteria of your new school, surveying the new land like a lion looking for its new prey. It seemed like all the seats were taken, and that all the schoolchildren already had friends of their own. This was your first luncheon at the new school. For the past year, your mother made sure you and your brother learned a few German words and phrases; enough to get around and make sure you didn’t get lost. She promised she would teach you more once you arrived in Germany. To say it was a difficult language to learn would be an understatement, but you tried your best and actually caught on fairly quickly. Sure, you weren’t fluent, and you probably still would get lost in the supermarket… But you knew enough to get you to point B at school. You took a deep breath with a scrunched up nose, and finally your eye-line landed on an empty spot. All the way in the far left corner which seemed miles away, was an empty seat at the end of a lunch table.

Begrudgingly, you stomped your way over there with your sack lunch and peered at the table. The other children were laughing with one another, sharing their cookies or juice boxes. Your heart ached for the friends you had made in your home country, and while they knew it was temporary, it still had such a lasting impression on you. You pulled your lips into a tight line and hoped that you’d at least be in this country, at this school, long enough to make one friend. A lasting one at that. 

You cleared your throat, trying to get the attention of the boy at the end of the bench. He didn’t move or flinch. Maybe he was stupid? With another huff, you cleared your throat louder and squinted your eyes in his direction. 

“AHEM.” 

Suddenly, the boy’s head whipped in your direction. He had bleach blond hair, and bright blue eyes. Frankly, his eyes seemed too big for his face. His facial expression was easy to read, too. Unblinking, he glanced down at your paper bag filled with whatever your mother packed for you, and then back up at you. 

“Do you mind moving over just a smidgen? There’s nowhere else to sit, and I’m hungry.” 

The doe-eyed boy remained silent. His cheeks were chubby and his blond hair had wisps that had fallen on his forehead. He finally blinked a few times. 

“Hello? Are you deaf? Can you move over just a smidge?” 

You repeated your question with more emphasis. A part of you felt badly for yelling at the poor boy, but one - you were hungry, and two - well, maybe he just didn’t speak English. His eyes fell to the partially empty seat beside him. Shaking his head, he looked up at you again with the same dumbfounded face he had originally greeted you with when you first tried to communicate with him. Rolling your eyes and sighing so loudly you were sure your friends in America could hear you, you exhaled all the air in your lungs and looked up at the cafeteria ceiling. 

“Kannst du… rüberrutschen… damit ich sitzen… und essen… kann? (Can you slide over so i can sit and eat?)”

Your German was horrendous. It was broken and filled with nerves. Yet, you tried your best and after that horrific attempt at trying to speak to the clueless boy in front of you, you made eye contact again. He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, before covering his mouth. He immediately felt guilt wash over him and looked up at you again. 

“Sorry. I did not mean to laugh.” 

Your eyes widened and your stance hardened. 

“You speak English?! All this time?!” 

“Ja. (Yes.)”

“Then why didn’t you scoot over when I asked you?!”   You slammed your lunch bag down on the table and sloughed off your backpack. With a full on glare now, you crossed your arms over your chest and began tapping your foot impatiently. You hated this school and all the kids that came with it. And clearly, the boy could practically see the steam emanating from your ears because he quickly surrendered, scooting over and moving his own lunch tray out of the way.   “I am sorry. I didn’t understand the word… Uh… Smidgen?” 

“Oh.”  

You took a seat next to the boy and unpacked your lunch. It was nothing glorious, but it would satiate your hunger. The boy gulped and took a bite of his apple. Chewing and then swallowing, you could feel his big blue eyes scanning you as if you were a foreign object awaiting your turn at customs. 

“What is smidge?” The boy croaked at you. “Smidgen?”

Taking a bite of your sandwich and a sip of your water, you looked at him with a raised brow. 

“It kind of means… Like… A small amount? Just a smidge.” 

You shrugged your shoulders and continued eating. Moments later, the boy returned to eating his lunch and reading his book. You couldn’t help but see the tiny smile that emerged on his face as he peered down at his textbook. His cheeks were a faint blush. From then on, you knew that this boy was either going to be your best friend or your worst enemy. 

“Smidge. Okay.” 

Age 10 

There was something peaceful about your father being gone for work and it just being your mother and brother home. Okay, maybe it wasn’t something, and more like someone… But, you enjoyed the weeks as they came and were saddened when they left. Regardless, this was the longest you had ever been in one place and you were absolutely loving it. You actually made friends at your school that you could see on weekends and didn’t have to tell them you were moving away again. It seemed like this was going to be your life for the time being and you loved it. Your brother was thriving at his school and your mother seemed to be in a good routine of her own. Everything was going fairly well. 

“Smidge! Come on, I don’t want to miss the movie!” 

Suddenly, your best friend’s voice snapped you out of your content little thought bubble. His hair was longer now, but his eyes just as blue. He was wearing a simple red shirt with FERRARI printed on the front, with blue jeans and white Converse. It was your typical 11 year old boy’s outfit, yet it looked humongous on him. Maybe he’ll hit a growth spurt or something, but maybe not. You shrugged off the thought and got up off the sidewalk. Grabbing your scooter and your helmet, you began making your way to the boy who was halfway down the street already. 

“Wait for me, Mick!” 

You always tried to get him to wear a helmet, yet there he rode without one. You made a mental note to make sure and tell his mom later. 

“Come on, Smidge! You gotta scooter faster than that!” 

“Stop going so fast, Mick! I’m scared!” 

Your voice was shaking as you tried your best to catch up to your friend. And while his clothes were huge on him, he was still bigger and taller than you. It seemed like he was miles ahead of you. Your legs could only scooter so fast. Mick was on a bicycle too, which didn’t make catching up to him any easier. Why does he always have to go so fast? 

You also could hear him laughing. And knowing him, he loved the feeling of the wind in his face as he biked harder and faster with each pedal. It was a surprise that his tires could catch up to the speed he was going. Soon enough though, everything came to a screeching halt. 

The scooter you were riding on had hit a piece of loose gravel and had sent you flying. Luckily, you were wearing a helmet when you collided with the sidewalk. But your elbows and knees were not so fortunate. Damn you, for forgetting your protective gear this time. Nursing your elbow and trying not to think of the inevitable amount of blood that was going to come out of your knee, you took in some very short breaths to try and keep yourself from crying. It seemed like years had gone by before Mick noticed you were no longer behind him. Soon enough, you looked up through tear filled eyes and saw his bike rushing towards you. Mick did a tiny burnout as he braked hard and hopped off his bicycle. He rushed by your side and was trying to take in all of your injuries. 

“Scheiße! (Shit!)” The boy exclaimed as he gently took your helmet off of your head. 

“Language, Mick!” You scolded.  Tears were falling down your cheeks as he propped you up to the fire hydrant that was luckily there. Taking his shirt, he lifted it and began wiping your face with it. Then, he took his shirt and with all the force his 11 year old body could muster, ripped a part of the bottom so he could press it to your knee. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. He could hear his father’s voice in the back of his head while he pressed the fabric to your knee. 

“You’ll get blood on your shirt!” 

“It’s already colored red, Smidge. It won’t hurt it.” 

If there was one thing you’ve learned about Mick Schumacher it was that his smile could make anyone feel better. His eyebrows were pulled together and his mouth in a tight line as he concentrated his energy on making sure your knee stopped bleeding. You couldn’t help but feel a weird feeling in your stomach as you looked at your best friend tending so carefully to your wounds. And truth be told, you had suffered a lot worse wounds - but with every time you got hurt he would always be there to make sure you were alright. 

“I need to get home, so I can get my mum here to help.” 

“Wait… You’re leaving me here?” 

You almost wanted to begin crying again. Mick looked up at you from where he sitting in front of you and shrugged. 

“Do you think you can make it back to my house with this knee?” 

You nodded fervently, taking him by surprise. He smiled, his lips still touching each other as he glanced around the sidewalk. You would say anything at this point just to make sure you weren’t left here alone. 

“Okay, leibling (darling). I don’t think anyone will steal my bike. How about I scooter back with you?” 

Mick had called you that before, but you never questioned what it meant. You assumed it was a nickname that he made up that had to do with your clumsiness. Because this was definitely not the first time your knee has bled. 

“How will both of us scooter?” 

Mick’s smile turned into a toothy grin as he grabbed your helmet from beside him. Taking one last look at your knee, he nodded to himself and grabbed the scooter. Propping it up against the hydrant, he helped you to your feet. Mick placed your helmet on your head, clipping it under your chin with the most gentle touch. You never knew an 11 year old boy could be this gentle… Considering you remember when your own brother was eleven, and he treated everything like a WWE wrestling match. Smiling at your best friend, he grabbed the scooter and motioned for you to get on it. 

“You just stand on it - if you can, and I’ll walk beside you, and push it - So you don’t have to.” 

Nodding his head again in a matter of fact way, you got on the scooter, wobbly as ever and held onto the handles with dear life. His right arm reached around your waist and his hand fell onto the right handle. His left arm crossed his body and he grabbed the other handle with the other hand. As he slowly guided you on the scooter, you couldn’t help but notice how quiet it had suddenly become. Neither of you were uttering a single word to each other, and neither of you really wanted to. This was hands down one of your best memories of you both that was in the making. 

“You think you can move over just a smidge so I can get a ride too?” 

Age 16 

The air was crisp and cool as you headed to the cool down room.  You were currently in Formula 3 alongside your best friend Mick. After having a great race and placing second, you knew you were too excited to sit down. You were just waiting for Mick to come in and join you. 

“Smidge! We did it!” 

Mick engulfed you in a big sweaty hug, spinning you around the cool down room like no one was watching. He had placed first and knowing that he was under more pressure and scrutiny than you ever were/and would be, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic for him. 

“We? No, YOU did it!” 

Pulling the ponytail holder out of your hair to try and get some relief to your scalp, Mick handed you an already half open water bottle as he took a towel and a water for himself. He always would open up y your drinks for you. Sitting down in the chair, he leaned back and sighed happily. His smile was practically bigger than his entire face. And it seemed as though he finally grew into those blue eyes of his. Mick shut his eyes and took in the serenity. He knew that the press would be all over him as soon as cool down was over, and you knew that this was his time to reflect and relax. 

“You’re going to be in Formula Two next year, you know.” 

Mick just hummed, his eyes still shut. 

“You won’t forget me, right?” You awkwardly laughed.  Opening one eye and turning to you, his smile was imminent and his cheeks pink with hard work. 

“We’re meant to be together forever, Smidge. Ich könnte dich nie vergessen. (I could never forget you.)” 

“Versprichst du mir das? (Promise me that?)” 

Quickly, Mick’s head shot up and excitement washed over his face. Grabbing your hand in his, he fully turned his body towards yours and scrunched up his face. And there was that fluttering feeling again in the pit of your stomach. 

“Somebody’s been practicing their German!” 

And with a smirk, you mimicked his scrunched up nose and smiled softly. This boy was going to be the death of you. 

“Just a smidge.” 

Age 21 

The news was everywhere. You couldn’t catch a break from it… And not that you didn’t want to, you just would’ve preferred it to be more personal than it was. 

In all truthfulness, you and Mick had drifted apart. Maybe it was inevitable, or maybe it was just a phase you two were in - but it didn’t hurt any less. Once Mick had gotten through F2, you struggled in the sport. Soon enough, it was all about gender politics and how your gender played a role in motorsports… Or didn’t. And you were proud of Mick, oh god, you were so proud of him. But deep down inside you knew that your lives were now separate, and his was progressing exponentially faster than yours. 

You were currently trying to hardest to get into Formula One. After being in Formula Two for much longer than you would’ve liked, it seemed like an impossible task. You knew you had friends in this sport, and you knew you were an inspiration to other women who wanted to be in motorsports, but you couldn’t help but feel unsupported in other ways. Mick was off doing whatever he was doing… Your brother followed suit and was stationed somewhere overseas. And your mother… Well, she had passed and you barely interacted with your father. Mick and his family were really all you had in terms of a close relationship. 

Retiring to your apartment for the night, which was a rare occasion to be in your own home, you quickly discarded your clothes and went into the bathroom. It was a hard day of practice, hot too. You just wanted to shower, crawl into bed and watch something trashy on the tv. Turning on the shower, you hopped in, washed yourself and hopped out. You were never one for long and unnecessary showers. You changed into whatever clothes you could find that could be considered pajamas and made your way into the kitchen. You were hungry, yet you were supposed to be on a diet… So you weren’t actually allowed to eat at this hour. Sighing longingly, you shut the refrigerator and sat on your couch. You stretched your neck and had a pretty good circular motion going on before your phone dinged and so rudely interrupted you. 

MICKEY🐭: Schätzen! I miss you. 

You peered down at your phone and tapped the message. The last time Mick had texted you was three weeks ago, and he was even then too tired to talk on the phone. 

YOU: I miss you too, Mick. 

MICKEY🐭: Ouch. Just Mick? 

YOU: Sorry, just had a long day of practice. How are you? Enjoying the view from up there? 

MICKEY🐭: I’ve barely started here, but it’s definitely different. When can you come visit? 

YOU: Unsure, but I’ll let you know when I have some free time. Ya know, if you’re not in Baku or something. 

MICKEY🐭: I’d always make time for you, even if I were to be in Baku or something. 

YOU: I’m going to hold you to that, Schumie. 

MICKEY🐭: I would not expect anything less from you, Smidge. 

Suddenly, you were pulled from the conversation at hand and trying to decide if the knock on your front door would be worth answering or not. You hung your head for a few seconds and groaned. You let out an audibly sigh as you headed to the door. You looked through your peephole and there was nobody standing there. You shrugged your shoulders and thought maybe someone knocked on the wrong door and realized it before you could answer it. Trudging your way back to the couch, your phone began to ring. It better not be- 

“Smidge!” 

“Mickey?” 

“Did you get my delivery?” 

You swore you were just thwarted into an alternate universe where the language of the region was like, Swahili, because you could not comprehend what was just said on the phone - audibly, mentally, emotionally… Nope. Nothing. 

“Smidge?” 

The all too familiar voice repeated the question as you pulled the phone away from your ear. You looked at the phone screen and squinted. Sure enough, the name on the phone matched the voice repeating your nickname through the speaker. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here. What did you say, Mickey?” 

“I said, ‘Did you get my delivery?’” You could hear Mick’s soft laughter in the background. He always had a great laugh. 

“No? Also, why are you having things delivered to my apartment? Don’t you have multiple addresses?” 

“Ja, das tue ich. (Yes I do.) But that is not the point!” 

“Mickey-“ 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just go open your door already!” 

And if it weren’t for his goddamn giggling, you would’ve hung up the phone right then and there. You took a deep breath and exhaled before making your way to the door again. 

“I don’t hear you opening the door, Leibling!” Mick shouted through the phone. Frankly, he could hear your eyes roll on his side of the conversation. Soon enough though, you opened your front door and looked down. 

Sitting right outside of your door was a takeout order from your favorite local restaurant and a bouquet of your favorite flowers too. Picking up the items, you made your way back inside and placed them on the counter. 

“Really?” 

You couldn’t help the blush that flooded your cheeks, and you were so glad this conversation was over the phone, but you swore up and down a long time ago you would not get feelings for him. He was making that quite difficult. 

“Gefällt es dir? Sind Sie überrascht? (Do you like it? Are you surprised?)” 

“Natürlich gefällt es mir. Dies ist jedoch unnötig. (Of course I like it. This is unnecessary, though.)” 

“Ich würde alles für dich tun. (I would do anything for you.)” 

A deep and profound silence loomed over the conversation now. The only things that you could hear was whatever was going on outside on the street. For the first time in awhile too, Mick was completely silent. It was just now a matter of who was going to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry you’re having a tough time.”  Mick’s voice was quiet, reserved. His tone was sincere and you knew he wished he was there to keep you company.  “Thanks, Mickey. I am proud of you, you know. I’m really, so very proud of you.” 

Mick again just bummed in response. You glanced down at the flowers and did your best not to cry. It was as though he could sense it from all the way… Well whatever he was. 

“One day, you’ll come and join me, and we’ll be the best damn team the world has ever seen.” 

“One day.” 

You repeated as you put the phone down on the counter and on speaker. Truly, you both could just sit on the phone for hours in silence. But you knew that he was busier than he was before, and you were more tired than you had ever been. It was nice to feel like you still both could just enjoy each other’s presence. 

“Are you going to eat any of that Thai food?” 

“I wish. I’m on a diet.” You scoffed. 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, you tried your best to savor the sound of his voice and the memories you held so dearly to you. You truly didn’t know when the next time was going to be that you’d see him, or even speak to him on the phone like this… But you’d be fooling yourself if you weren’t taking in every second of this interaction, and putting it in your pocket - saving it for a rainy day. Closing your eyes, you smiled slightly to yourself and breathed deeply one last time. 

“Just eat a little bit of it.” 

“No.” 

“Just a smidgen, then?” 

Your small smile had turned into a grin as you finally decided to open up the takeout bag. Mick chuckled and you could practically hear his own smile through the phone. God, did you miss your best friend. But god, did that takeout smell so heavenly. Pulling out the plastic cutlery that came with it, you opened up the first box and sighed happily to yourself. Yeah. You owed him one.

“Fine. Just a smidge.” 

And so much more. 

[jellycrusher]

Wolves and Lambs: Part 2

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Synopsis: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter's Premise: "It's easier this way. To hide it from everyone. Being a female alone made it hard for me to enter this sport and rise at this level. If the public knew I was a female Omega, my career is over. No team would give me a contract."

Taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 @fanboyluvr @giffywiffy3408 @notyouraveragemochii @cmleitora

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

In this society that we now live in, there are three "types" of humans.

The most common one, which also makes up 90% of the population are the Betas.

Then, there are Alphas, they're said to have superior characteristics which make them great leaders. Which is why most of the successful athletes are usually Alphas.

And lastly, a class that is even rarer than alphas, the Omegas. One of the pecularities of Omegas is that they constantly release a sweet scent, what we call pheromones. These affect mainly Alphas and lures them. During their heat, the pheromones they produce will be much stronger and will be more luring to Alphas.

One can take medicines to control their pheromones, especially during their heat period. Suppressants can be taken by Omegas. Alphas can also take them if they wish not to be affected by any Omega in heat.

Society has indeed taken it in to protect Omegas because of their special constitution. Sadly, there are a lot of people who thinks that Omegas are inferior and are only good for mating.

Just because someone is an Omega, it doesn't mean that someone isn't meant for greatness ahead.

It was horrifying to think that your career is now ruined when it hasn't even started yet. You choke on your own saliva, making you cough so loud that a few heads turn in your direction. You fiddle with your fingers when you closed the book. Oscar quickly noticed the panic in your voice and in your body language.

"Oh no, don't worry. I'm an Omega, as well. I thought this was public knowledge?" Oh right, bugger me, I wasn't paying attention to Megan when she told me the names of the two Omegas on the grid. You looked at Oscar with a puzzled look and he quickly adds, "Good thing that the venue was swimming with Alphas. Our smell won't really affect anyone. But you? You didn't smell of anything at all. Maybe a hint of sweetness but nothing too obvious. There were a few Omegas at the event so I think the other drivers didn't suspect you."

Realization hits you. You pull out your phone from your pocket and opened the calendar. "I must've missed my suppressants. I was so busy with pre-season testing, the gala, and extra training. That can't happen again."

Wondering if only Oscar was the one who noticed your peculiar scent. It's scary to think that if maybe somebody else has caught you, you won't even be able to continue as a driver for your team.

"It's easier this way. To hide it from everyone. Being a female alone made it hard for me to enter this sport and rise at this level. If the public knew I was a female Omega, my career is over. No team would give me a contract." You confess.

"Well, that's true. It took a lot of convincing before my teams in F3 and F2 trusted me. We had to work twice or thrice as hard to prove to people that we' can deliver the same results as others, if not better." Oscar leans back on the couch, arms sprawled on the backrest. "Besides, my heat doesn't affect my performance anymore. Not since I met Lando."

"What d'you mean?"

"Lando's my mate. I don't get intense heat ruts anymore since he gave me my mark. One time I drove through a GP when my heat came. That was scary, I almost crashed." he says, amused when you got visibly surprised at the revelation.

You felt relaxed that he was able to confess this information with you even if you just met for the first time during the gala. Maybe he was just trying to comfort you when your secret was discovered by him.

"Please don't tell Lando just yet. You didn't, right?" you ask. Oscar shaking his head at your question.

"I kinda have a responsibility to take care of you now. It's not my place to tell anybody. In our line of work, nothing stays a secret so I guess you'll tell who you'll want to tell at the right time." Oscar leans forward to you, gently placing his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. We stick together."

"What secret?" You jump at the familiar voice. Lando pops up behind you two.

"Nothing. She's just telling me which of the drivers she finds cute." Oscar stand up from his seat and guides Lando to the direction of the restaurant.

"I bet it's me, right?" Lando points to himself. Oscar gently punched the side of Lando. They waved goodbye and disappeared into the restaurant.

It wasn't much of a calm air to make you continue reading your book in the lounge. Despite Oscar making you calm even after your conversation, you were still worried. You needed to let out some steam.

When you came up to your room, you took a suppressant and changed into your workout clothes. You arrived at the empty hotel gym and started pretty quickly on the treadmill.

If you weren't a race car driver, no one would bat an eye if they thought you were a track and field athlete at how fast you were going through that treadmill. Your music blasting through your headphones on maximum level when you didn't notice two men entering the gym.

You were breathing too hard through your mouth to even notice the waft of Alpha scent coming from the two men. They were cheerfully chatting and joking when they took notice of you aggressively running on the treadmill. Surprised at the unsettling scent you were giving off. You were angry, very angry.

They chose the two empty machines at either side of you. Careful to not disturb you, they quietly took their place and slowly started running.

Once you got all the frustration off your mind, you pressed a few buttons on the machine to slow it down. You take a moment to catch your breath but not long after, your nose twitched at the strongest Alpha scent you've ever smelled your entire life.

You try to hold your breath and cover your nose with one hand but that didn't help. You didn't know where it even came from. It's so strong that it's starting to make you sick and dizzy. Your limbs felt like jelly and your throat was getting dry. No scent has had this kind of effect on you before. The music blasting in your ears is not helping any bit so you yank it off.

"Hey!" Shocked at the unexpected voice, you shriek and tripped on the treadmill. Good thing it was running very slow that you weren't hurt when you amusingly slid off the machine. The man quickly paused his machine and yours, then ran to help you. "Are you okay?"

You recognized him to be Charles Leclerc. The other half of the driver pair of Ferrari. He offered his hand out to help you stand. You got a bit too close to him as you rise from the floor. You can't help but sniff him inconspicuously. He had a strong Alpha scent, similar to the one you smelled earlier but not entirely the same. The effect it has on you was not as powerful as earlier. Maybe what you've smelled was a mixture of scents? You're not entirely sure.

"Surprised you're a driver with that kind of a reaction with just a hello from Charles. Wonder how you'll do at the track." You turn on your heels at the sound of an arrogant voice behind you, and saw Max Verstappen still very much running and have not batted an eye when you fell.

"I..." You step forward in annoyance, almost about to snap back at him but your feet quickly froze. You recognize the smell. It's coming from Max. The golden boy of Red Bull. The man who dominated all of the drivers last season, and who had broken and topped a lot of records.

The salty taste of fear lingered on your lips. Your muscles screamed at you to leave, but you couldn't bring yourself to move. You were utterly frozen, your body cutting all communication with your mind. Unable to distinguish if you were immobilized in fear or in shock at how his measly Alpha pheromones have this much effect on you.

Thankfully, Charles' voice brought you back to reality when he checked up on you. You bolted to the door as soon as you regained control of your body, leaving the two men baffled at your swift exit from the gym and into the lobby.

"What's up with her?" Max stopped his treadmill and stepped down. Both of the men still looking at the direction you left.

"What's up with you? Why were you rude, mate?" Charles lightly smacked Max's head with his Ferrari cap. "You scared her off. Look, she even left her things in a hurry." They noticed your green flask still on your treadmill.

"What? I was just telling her, that kind of reaction is dangerous on track." Max replies.

"In what universe did you tell her that?"

"I did!"

"You did not. You clearly need to work on your communication skills, Max. Use your words." Charles reached for your flask and aggressively placed it on Max's hand. "For that, you apologize to the woman and return this to her."

"FINE. I'll apologize." Max scoffs as he fix his hair in his Red Bull cap. "Reserve that treadmill for me." He points at the machine you were previously using that was beside Charles.

Charles scoffs and shoos Max away. Max headed to the lobby but he was not able to locate you. He doesn't even have your number. He thought to ask his fellow drivers but surely no one have asked it yet. He spots an Aston Martin staff but when he asked where you might be, they are clueless.

"Max!" He turns at the call of his name and saw Pierre. "Why do you look so troubled?"

"Have you seen y/n by any chance? I have to give her this." Max raises your flask to Pierre as Yuki and Esteban walks up behind him.

"We just got back here from lunch outside the hotel but maybe you could send her a text to get that. Much easier." Yuki suggests.

"Yeah right, like I have her number." Max chuckles sarcastically.

"We do!" Yuki, Pierre, and Esteban answered in chorus.

"Wait, when did you get her number?" Max asks as he was genuinely bewildered at their response. He remembered that you were barely mingling with any of them during the pre-season testing in the circuit.

"Of course we got her number. Who wouldn't?" Pierre says as he scrolls through his contacts looking for your name.

"We competed through heads and tails to see who'll ask her number first." Esteban adds as he giggles.

"Lando introduced us to her during the gala. She was pulled away by Lance multiple times but when she got away from the sponsors, she would come back to the bar to chat with us." says Yuki.

"Here you go." Pierre shows Max your number and he types it in on his phone. He thanks his pal Pierre and sat down on the lobby couch to put your name in his contacts and start messaging you. The three of them bid farewell to Max and continues to walk up to the elevator.

Unknown Number: Hi! You left your flask in the gym. I'm still at the lobby. I was wondering how to give it to you.

It took almost 5 minutes before Max got a reply.

Aston Martin Y/N: Who's this? How did you get my number?

Max looks at the conversation thread and felt stupid that he didn't mention his name. Anybody would be wary in your position if they got that kind of text.

Unknown Number: My apologies, I didn't tell my name. This is Max. From Red Bull. I got your number from Pierre.

Then it took you 10 minutes to respond. You were fiddling with your hands on the screen as you think of a reply. It was supposed to be a simple reply but the fear in your body hasn't subsided yet. Fully sprawled out on the floor of your hotel bedroom.

Unknown Number: Do you plan to get it from me or do you want me to give it to any Aston Martin staff?

Another ping on your phone and you read the new text. Worried that you'll inconvenience a staff, you quickly typed in your reply.

Aston Martin Y/N: I'll get it. Going down in a sec. Wait.

You took your time to even stand up. Letting your pheromones and instincts recover from the nightmare you experienced just by taking in his scent. As you slowly walk towards the door, you changed his name in your contacts. At that moment coincidentally, you received another text from him.

HE WHO MUST BE AVOIDED AT ALL TIMES: Are you almost here? I still have to work out with Charles.

Aston Martin Y/N: Can you please wait? I'm waiting for the elevator.

Max decides to wait by the elevator when he read your text. He tilts his head up every time it opens and was starting to get irritated at how long you took to come down when finally he sees the door open with you in the elevator... with what seems to be ear plugs up your nose.

He bursts out laughing, even snorted at one point. "Still on brand, I see?" He noticed the green earplugs with a small brand logo peeking out on the side.

"You really enjoy teasing me, huh?" You say in a nasally tone while yanking the flask off his hands as he busies himself laughing his ass out. You turn back to the elevator, about to press the button.

"No, no. I'm sorry." Max fixes himself. "I apologize for earlier. Didn't mean to say those things that way."

"What do you mean?" You stop your hands from pressing the button and looked at Max.

"I'm glad you're okay. Just... maybe you could work more on your reaction time. A fraction of a second could mean winning or losing, and even crashing or not." Max mellows out his voice into concern.

"I am fully aware, not like i've just started racing this year. Thank you for the tip." You reply but as soon as you get a whiff of his scent despite there being a plug up in your bloody nose, you frantically press the elevator button.

The strength of the smell was less this time, maybe because Charles' scent is not in the mix. But nonetheless, Max's pheromones are still causing your hair on your arms to stand up even with the plug. You don't want to imagine the effect on you if you are able to clearly smell him this close without the help of suppressants.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be? You always seem to be in a hurry." Max asks in confusion. You pinch your nose to help minimize the scent.

"I just.. need.. to get out of here." You press the button a few more times and finally, it opens. "Thank you for giving me back my flask. Bye!" You ran inside and pressed the close button.

"What's wrong with her?" Max says out loud, leaving him utterly confused as he goes back to Charles in the gym.

He calls out to Charles when he stepped up on the treadmill.

"Hey! How was it?" Charles asks in between breaths.

"Do I stink?" Max sniffs his shirt and even his pits. He even lifts the collar of his shirt to prompt Charles to sniff him.

"No, mate. Why? Did somebody tell you that you stink?" Charles asks, fully focused with his workout and didn’t bother to actually sniff Max.

"No one. Just asking."

You spend the rest of your day cooped up in your room, trying to avoid Max. You try to think of ways to pass the time but all you have is a deck of cards and a television. Not really a fun way to spend your free time in the room.

No amount of Alpha pheromones have bothered you before. Not unless someone is raging mad like what you've regularly felt during races. But not like this. The combination of Charles' and Max's pheromones are dangerous for you, clearly more of Max's. Like it's enough to trigger a heat from you. Right now, you can't afford that. Good thing you took a suppressant before you met them.

A few minutes before dinner, you heard a knock on your door. You rush to get up from your bed and walk to the other side to get to the door.

"Hi Oscar!" you beam up at the presence of your fellow Omega when you opened the door.

"Hey! They want me to ask you if you're interested to play Switch and PS5 with the guys. They have food and drinks." says Oscar as he stands in front of your doorway.

"Sure. I could use some food right now. Let me get my phone." You smile and went straight for your nightstand.

"Great. I'll text..."

"Wait. Is Max there?" You halt in your steps.

"Him? He never joins us for game night. Too focused on race day." Once Oscar mentioned the absence of Max, you relax and continued to grab your phone and room key, then went back to the doorway. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering."

Oscar didn't think anything more about your question. "They say to hurry. Almost done with the current tournament on Mario Kart. You have to join as the 4th driver." He gently pulls your hand and escorts you to the elevator.

Still, the mystery of why Max's pheromones have that effect on you continues to linger on your mind.

A steward reminded each team that the briefing was about to commence. All 20 drivers are ushered to find their own seats. As you were to take yours, you scan the room and noticed Charles and Max sitting together on the first row with either of their respective teammates beside them. As you were about to sit on the other far end of the next row, other drivers appeared out of nowhere and sat on the chairs next to you.

Oscar made sure to take the seat on your right and pulled Lando to sit next to him. As Alex was about to sit next to you, George hastily took the seat on your left. You quietly giggle at how amusing the boys look. You've gotten so close with some of them after spending your pre-race break by playing video games as a group.

The briefing started and they discussed new rules, and addressed some concerns that were brought up during the pre-season testing. Everything was on point and on time. Good lucks were thrown back and forth to all the teams and everyone bid their goodbyes before heading back to their respective hospitalities in the paddock.

You and Fernando struts back into your own room in the team's garage and came out in your white racing top with your race suits' sleeves tied to your waists and a green cap to keep your hair in place. Your trainer proceeds to work with you to test your reflexes using tennis balls.

Megan pats your shoulder and points at the far end of the Aston Martin Garage. Oscar, in his orange overalls, tries to peek his head through and calls your attention. You excused yourself from your trainer and sprinted towards Oscar.

"What's up? You need anything?" you smile at the Australian driver.

"Did you take your suppressants?" Oscar asks and you nod quickly in respond. "Good. Don't underestimate the pheromones of these guys during races. I had trouble back then when I was still unmated, especially with Lando's. They could really fuck up your races without even needing any contact with your car."

"Really? That bad?" You reply with a nervous laugh.

"Just make sure you have your suppressants with you every race week. That's a priority. Don't ask anyone else to give you or else, your secret might get out. Also, I don't bring mine anymore since Lando takes care of my heat prior to every race week."

"Okay Mom! At least somebody's getting some action." You sheepishly tease Oscar, nudging him at his side.

"Anyways, good luck out there rookie!" Oscar jokingly pulls down your cap to cover your eyes and he steps away, back to his team garage.

"Good luck to you too, Mom!" You shout. Oscar raises his hand and waves it, still walking forward.

You go back to your trainer and continued on with your training.

"Formula 1 is back, and it's time for Qualifying for the 20th World Championship Bahrain Grand Prix. 23 races in 2023 and we get underway for the 6th time in F1 history right here in the Bahrain International Circuit"

You and Fernando went to your respective corners beside your car. Like a well-oiled machine, every part was doing its job perfectly. A team of engineers briefed you of the strategy, at the same time Fernando's team of engineers did theirs.

You fix the rest of your race suit on and placed the earpiece before putting on your balaclava. An engineer hands you your helmet and hans device. Now all set-up, the two Aston Martin drivers lowered themselves into the cockpit and buckled up. Mechanics making their final checks and removing the tire blanket. The engine roared and echoed back. Music to your ears.

Driver number 13 officially representing Aston Martin for the start of the season. Time to do what you do best.

You and Fernando went to do incredibly flying laps through Q1. The engineers back at the pit wall seem pretty pleased with the pace. In Q2, it was unfortunate that Fernando failed to continue for Q3 after a Haas collided with his rear wing and puncturing his rear tire.

Your pit mechanic signals you to go out of the garage once again when Q3 had resumed, followed by the drivers of Ferrari and Red Bull. For the first five minutes, Red Bull and Ferrari had dominated the front row as Verstappen in P1 and Leclerc in P2.

In the last seven minutes, you were able to climb P3 with purples in sector 1 and 2.

You heard a familiar beep in your earpiece as Ben, your race engineer, informed you,

"P3, that's P3."

"Do I have enough pace to try for P2 on the final lap?"

"Confirm. We can try for P2."

You push flat-out on the throttle, eyes darting forward like a hawk. Concentrated on getting purple on all sectors.

Max was granted the provisional pole as he crosses the line, followed by Charles. Charles was informed by his race engineer that he's on P2 at the moment. Max was able to snatch the purple sectors in 1 and 2, while Charles got purple in sector 3. Time's up for Q3 and the remaining drivers' lap times are still to be recorded.

One by one, the remaining drivers cross the line. Max and Charles was told to wait as their race engineers inform them through the radio that you now got purple in sectors 1 and 2. You've yet to complete sector 3 and cross the line. The two men now looking back at their mirrors, catching to see a glimpse of you.

"And it's y/n on pole position for the first race of the season! Her maiden pole! What an amazing lap by this year's only rookie, and she starts on the front row tomorrow."

The two men, in awe by your performance, didn't notice their respective engineers talking through their radios.

Your PR officer guided you to the flock of reporters in the media pen for the driver interviews. Each of them congratulated you and asked about your maiden pole. You carefully answer every question while your PR officer stand beside you, before going on to the next reporter.

Charles and Max were also inside the media pen at the same time as you. Charles to your right and Max to your left. You were the first one among the three of you to finish your media duties. Your PR officer bid you goodbye as she rushes to the team hospitality while talking to someone on the phone.

Charles approached you from behind, "Hey y/n! Congratulations on your maiden pole!"

You gave a genuine smile at the compliment from the Monegasque. "Thanks Charles! You two were extremely hard to beat."

"I look forward to racing with you on the front row tomorrow!" Charles quickly waved goodbye just as how short he said his greeting.

He seems to be in a hurry as well so you just responded, "You too!"

A few seconds later, somebody came behind you to pat your back. As you turn your head, Max blurts out, "Congratulations. That was a pretty good qualifying debut."

Still wary at his presence, you vaguely took a step away from him and held your breath. "Thank you... Congratulations to you too." You try to take a sniff but relief wash over you as his pheromones today wasn't as strong as you'd think. Possibly because you did two doses of the suppressants.

"What's your problem?" Max darts his eyes at you.

"Huh?" You reply, looking confused.

"You always seem to act like I stink when you're around me. I thought it was just my imagination but you act the same every time you stand by me." Max stood tall and crossed his arms.

"No. That wasn't what I..."

"I have the same perfume as Charles yet you don't have a problem with him. Kinda rude for a rookie, don't you think?!" Max continues.

"Are you done? You gonna let me explain?" You reply, also crossing your arms.

And there it is again. That scent. But this time it smelled a bit different. Smelled stronger but muskier. More aggressive than the last time you smelled it on him. Once again, your throat starts to dry up. Your chest and legs are starting to feel weird.

Max noticed your nose scrunch and sees you slightly take another step back. Appalled by your reaction, he cursed under his breath so quietly. He was about to voice out his irritation at you when Oscar runs to insert himself between the two of you.

"Hey Max! Sorry but I need to snatch her away. It seems that y/n is needed by... her engineers! Yes, for a meeting." Oscar mumbled and chuckles as he tries to make more space between you and Max.

"Her engineers asked you to get her? You're a Mclaren Driver." Max raised an eyebrow in response.

"Oh, who minds the small details?" Oscar wafts his hands in the air before pulling you away from Max. "Sorry if i interrupted your conversation!"

Oscar pulled you away from Max's line of sight as fast as he can. Almost comical to see you two running across the paddock. He turns to a corner and lets go of your hand. You lean your hands on your knees and try to catch your breath as Oscar looks back just in case Max is still in the area.

"That was close. A photographer almost took a photo of you two and from where I was standing, the conversation didn't seem to look so friendly." says Oscar.

"Yeah, that was close-- Huh?"

When Oscar pulled you away from Max, you thought he could sense the trouble you were in. Your trouble with Max's presence.

"Wait, you couldn't smell him? His pheromones?" You ask, clearly puzzled at the reason for Oscar's interruption.

"No. Max didn't smell any different when I stood between you two. Why? What's wrong?" Oscar now looks concerned as he walks closer to you.

"Nothing. I just think my nose is busted." You dismiss the lingering thought at the back of your mind. Surely that musn't be it.

"Wait, I just remembered that you really are needed at your garage. Lance was looking for you earlier." Oscar pats your back and pushes you to the direction of your garage. You almost curse that you lost track of time as you ran back like your life depended on it.

"And it's lights out and away we go!"

Next Part: Part 3