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magics-neptunes-things · 3 days ago

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Mockingjay - Part 10

Hello :)

Once again sorry for the delay, but here is the next chapter for Mockingjay!

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Death or mention of death, blood, injury, suggestive, fight

Chapter before

After their mutual declaration and several (a lot of) kisses exchanged, Lucy finally falls asleep, exhausted by her fight and her injuries. Ona didn’t ask Lucy what happened exactly during the fight, she keeps her questions for later.

Ona was awake all night, looking at Lucy. Just in case she wakes up with pain or something bad happens. But Lucy’s sleep seems peaceful, she only winces from time to time, while changing position. We must say that maybe the ground of a cave isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.

Being in that position is strange for Ona, she’s not used to being the strong one. It’s usually Lucy who took care of her during their moments together, not the other way. She likes the idea of Lucy being at ease enough with her for it, but of course Ona hates the fact that Lucy is hurt.

They never heard the cannon, so Ona assumed that Tony must be alive somewhere. He doesn’t seem to have any allies, unless they’re all dead already. But the weapon he had was probably from a sponsor. Ona doesn’t know if she will receive more things after the attack she did against her compatriot.

But she stands her ground. Between Lucy and Tony, there she has not a single hesitation.

While Lucy sleeps, Ona lights the fire again and puts some wet tissues on Lucy’s forehead to ease her fever. It seems to work; Lucy’s forehead seems less hot with time.

Ona makes herself more arrows too, she used almost all of them during their fight with Tony. She wonders briefly where the man is, before deciding that she doesn’t care. He might be Joan’s friend; she still has to fight for herself. And the girl she’s in love with.

Talking about Lucy, the girls finally stir for good, but groan in pain while turning on her back. Her face is clenched and Ona hurries to come closer to her.

“Where are you hurt?” she asks softly, removing some hair from her face.

“My head”

“Your head? You didn’t say anything about your head yesterday!”

Ona tries to make Lucy move a little to see which part of her head is hurting. The latter tries to fight against Ona at first, but it was before seeing how determined Ona was. Lucy sighs softly, finally turning on her side.

“Lucy what the fuck”

Lucy doesn’t answer anything and it’s maybe better like this. Ona is mixed between worry and anger against Lucy. There is a wound here too, one that Ona didn’t clean yesterday because Lucy didn’t say anything.

“You couldn’t have done anything anyway” Lucy finally mumbles.

“I still could have cleaned it” Ona answer, her gaze burning.

Lucy chooses widely not to answer anything and crosses her arms when Ona starts to look at the injury. It seems less important than the one on her stomach, but still less superficial than the ones she has on her arms.

Ona cleans Lucy’s head, wondering how she missed the dry blood in Lucy’s hair, before making the girl roll on her back to clean the injury on her stomach.

“How did he manage to attack you by the way?”

Lucy raises her eyes on Ona’s face. The brunette isn’t looking at her, concentrating on her work in Lucy’s body. Lucy sighs softly before answering.

“He took me by surprise. I was looking for food when he jumped on me from behind. He hit me with his weapon. I didn’t hear him coming. He smashed me on my head and from then it was hard to fight back.”

Ona nods softly, wondering if the noises she heard while she was alone in the forest was actually Tony. She hasn’t mentioned it to Lucy until now.

“I think I heard footsteps when I was waiting for you. At that point I was thinking it was you, but when I turned around there was no one. I wonder if it was him.”

“Maybe” Lucy answers after several seconds of thinking. “If it’s him, it means that he chose not to kill you.”

“Yeah…” Ona says slowly. “Or that I could have save you earlier”

Ona was finished with Lucy’s tape since several minutes, so Lucy takes her by her arm to take her closer.

“Don’t reflect like this. You saved me. If you came earlier, maybe you wouldn’t have been able to shoot him like you did. Great aim, by the way.”

Ona rolls her eyes and smiles, snuggling against Lucy as much as she can while being careful not to hurt her more. She smiles when she feels Lucy sighing from well-being, softly kissing her jaw.

“All of those trainings’ session are finally paying off. Looks like training his force wasn’t as useful as he thought.”

“Looks like listening to your mentor was a great idea” Lucy teases.

“It was. It’s because of her advice that I’m still alive”

“I’m glad Alexia Putellas is a genius then.”

Ona hums, stroking Lucy’s neck with her nose. She doesn’t know how much time they will have for themselves, she’s decided to enjoy it as much as she can. She loves Lucy’s scent and how hot and soft her skin is here.

“You know that he’s in love with you right? Tony?”

“I don’t care” Ona answers, kissing Lucy’s neck between her two sentences. “I’m in love with someone else.”

Lucy smiles at this, grabbing softly Ona’s chin between one of her hands.

“Look at you, you little flirt” she says with a smile, before taking Ona’s face against her to kiss her.

Ona smiles against Lucy’s lips, deepening the kiss quickly. Lucy lets her access to her mouth and Ona kind of forgets where they are. All she can think of is Lucy, Lucy’s hand, Lucy’s skin against her, Lucy’s touch. She still remembers not to hurt her, but when Lucy gently tilts them so that Ona is on her back, Ona can’t help but break the kiss.

“Your stomach…” Ona begins.

But Lucy smiles again, putting a finger on her lips.

“I’m fine” she whispers.

She looks in Ona’s eyes again before leaning in for another kiss. After two seconds of hesitation, Ona kisses her back, passing her arms around her neck. Ona is pretty sure that she could kiss Lucy all day long without being used to it. Or tired.

She shivers when Lucy’s fingers slide under the tissues of her clothes, stroking her skin with her fingertips. The sensations are even better than what she remembered or imagined, but when Lucy starts to suck her neck, she feels heat waves in her body and especially between her legs. Under the pleasure, Ona’s fingers (who were under Lucy’s clothes too) sink into the skin of Lucy’s back.

Lucy is very respectful about what Ona told her while still in the Capitol. Ona is sure that Lucy remembers that she never has been intimate with someone else like this. When Lucy is satisfied with her work on Ona’s neck, she kisses the skin lovingly here.

But Lucy seems to come back to reality for real when Ona tries to remove Lucy’s shirt.

“Ona, we don’t have to – “

“No. I want it”

Lucy hesitates for several seconds, looking deep in Ona’s eyes. But Ona only smiles at her, letting her hands run on her back and on her hips.

“I’m sure” she adds, seeing hesitation in Lucy’s eyes.

“Just… Tell me when you want to stop, please”

“I will.”

Ona wanted to answer that she won’t have to say it, because she was certain of what she wants. But she doesn’t have time, Lucy leaning another time for another kiss. Ona doesn’t wait any second to kiss Lucy back. She wants it, she’s sure about it. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they might be dead in several hours, but there isn’t another person in the world she would do it with.

Ona’s clothes are suddenly too much on her skin, but Lucy’s hands manage to smooth her skin with their strokes.

There is no rush between them; they both take their time to discover each other and to remember each other at their fingertips.

And some time later, Ona is pretty sure that she never felt so blissful than now. When she looks up at Lucy who is holding her close against her body, she thinks that Lucy feels the same way.

Lucy feels Ona’s gaze on her because she looks at Ona back, offering her one of her perfect smiles.

“How are you?”

“Pretty great” Lucy smirks at Ona over the fire.

“I was talking about your head” Ona chuckles.

She’s still a little mad at Lucy for having kept that injury away from her. But Lucy shrugs, still adding another branch of wood into the fire. The night is here now, and they had to leave the cave for several hours during the day. It has been their refuge and Lucy is a little scared that the leaders of the Games will try to make them get out of it.

“Can I see it?”

“Will you take no as an answer?” Lucy arches an eyebrow.

“No” Ona smirks.

Lucy rolls her eyes but turns around to let Ona have a look. The younger girl doesn’t wait a second and kneels behind Lucy, gently looking at Lucy’s wound. She hums when she sees it. It doesn’t look very good, but it seems to heal as best as possible.

“It looks okay” Ona whispers. “Are you still in pain? Honestly.”

“It’s okay. Pounding sometimes but I will survive.”

Ona bites her bottom lip, preferring not to remember that they are in a Game fighting for their life. She stays silent and Lucy doesn’t seem to catch what she is thinking about. She starts to talk anyway, taking Ona’s mind away from there.

“We need a plan now. To know how to fight against the others.”

“What do you have in mind?” Ona asks, going to sit in front of the other girl.

“First, we have Camden and Kayla. Camden is hardly injured, but Kayla doesn’t have any injury as long as I’m aware. It would be a hard fight if we were crossing their path. The best thing would be to have them separated. They were near the starting point until now, but they might have changed now.”

Ona nods. It would make sense; Lucy is now with her, and she knows where they were staying. Plus, one of them is hurt and they would probably want to hide him as long as possible.

“Then we have Tony. You hurt him pretty badly.”

Ona nods once again. She doesn’t know if it’s pretty bad, but he wasn’t able to stand up for several minutes at least. It’s still something.

“How would you feel about fighting against him again?” Lucy asks. “I know he’s a friend of your brother but…”

“I’ll do it as many times as I need if it means you will be safe” Ona doesn’t hesitate to answer.

There is a moment of silence, during which they share a look. Ona is determined and very certain of what she just said. She would give her life for Lucy, so she doesn’t mind a single second fighting against her district’s partner.

Lucy, on the other hand, gives the impression to Ona that she’s looking for something special in her eyes. But Ona let her look, not having anything to hide from her. After a moment, Lucy finally talks again.

“And then the two girls. We don’t know if they are together, but we can guess they are.”

“Haven’t you seen them at one point?”

Lucy shakes her head to answer no.

“They might be hidden somewhere. They haven’t killed anyone for now.”

“Could they be in the desert? That’s what we wanted to do with Teagan, we were almost sure that no one will come for us there”

“Maybe…” Lucy answers slowly, looking by the entrance of the cave. “I know there is an oasis somewhere, if they found it it’s probably the safest place in the arena.”

“How do you know that?” Ona frowns.

“I went to it at the beginning”

Lucy shrugs and Ona frowns. Lucy asked her a lot of questions about her adventure until they met again, but Ona sometimes feels like she doesn’t want to talk about hers. Which is a little strange in Ona’s eyes.

Ona stands, pretending to be looking for something in their bags. She doesn’t like that feeling in the bottom of her stomach. And it has nothing to do with the kick she received during her fight.

“You never told me”

Lucy shrugs one more time before answering, still sitting on the ground.

“I went with Declan. We just wanted to see what was there.”

Ona hums only, her back turned to Lucy. The brunette catches easily that something is disturbing Ona, only by the other girl’s behavior. Ona usually never hides her eyes to her, or even her face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Lucy asks.

“Nothing.”

But Lucy knows better. Rather than letting it go and talking about something else, she gets up to press her front against Ona’s back, passing her arms around Ona’s waist. Her chin is on Ona’s shoulder when she talks again.

“Ona, what’s wrong?”

Ona sighs softly. She knows she’s probably stupid about her reaction and she’s a little bit ashamed, to be honest. But Lucy is waiting patiently for her answer, and she finally opens her mouth again.

“It’s just… Sometimes I feel like you are hiding something from me. I don’t like it.”

She knows she’s right when Lucy bites her bottom lip before answering. Ona turns her head as good as she can given their position, looking for Lucy’s green eyes. When Lucy stays silent, Ona talks again, whispering this time.

“What happened?”

Lucy sighs at her turn, letting Ona go. The younger girl doesn’t like the way her body suddenly seems very cold without Lucy’s embrace. She squeezes her arms around her body, looking at Lucy.

“It’s just that I have to do some things. And I’m scared that if you know them it will change how you see me.”

Ona tilts her head, searching for Lucy’s eyes. Lucy seems so tense that it scared her. Suddenly she’s not a tribute at the Hunger Games, she’s just a girl waiting for the love of her life to admit what fault she did when they weren’t together.

“Like I told you, I had to do things and play a role at the beginning. I needed people to think that I just wanted to win and that we weren’t even friends you and me”

Ona nods, waiting more or less patiently about the end of Lucy’s confession.

“To show people that I was really into it, I had to kill. A lot of people. In fact, after killing Seth, I’m the one with the higher number of murders.”

“Oh…” Ona breaths.

She wasn’t expecting this to be honest. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, to be honest. But Lucy is still looking at her feet, not able to look up at Ona. So, the younger girl approaches her, kneeling a little bit to have their eyes at the same level.

“Lucy, it’s okay. You did it for us. You didn’t have the choice”

“I didn’t” she repeats. “If I had… I just needed to be with you again.”

“We are now”

“Yeah”

Ona smiles softly at Lucy, who smiles almost shyly back. She doesn’t like to be seen as weak or something, but the way Ona cups her face to kiss her makes her feel lighter than ever. She still doesn’t understand what she did to find a girl as sweet and kind as Ona.

The morning after, they decided to sort out their things to know what to take with them in their backpack and what to leave in the cave. They let some food they know would be damaged in their bag during the day, for example. Ona is never leaving her hoodie under her jacket, loving the soft feeling against her skin.

They take their weapons of course, the medical kits and the most important things to survive.

“Okay, let’s go” Lucy says, looking at the fire behind them.

Ona is looking at the cave with a little pout. She feels like they won’t come back, and it makes her a little sad. It’s once again a memory of her history with Lucy where she probably won’t be able to come again.

Easily understanding what Ona is feeling, Lucy smiles softly and passes her arm around Ona’s shoulders.

“Come on, Love. It will be okay”

She kisses Ona temple before taking her to go down the mountain again. Ona let her do, blushing softly at Lucy’s surname. It’s the first time she calls her something like that. Of course, she loves it.

They decided to go to the desert, Ona hoping not to cross someone else’s path during this. Or at least someone they can kill easily. They walk silently, just in case. Ona asked Lucy if she saw the wolves too, but the older woman answered negatively. But it seems to her that one of the tributes died because of the wolves. The idea made Ona shivers.

Lucy is walking first; Ona really closes behind her. She has to fight against Lucy to prevent her not from carrying all the heavy things. Ona is really scared that Lucy’s stomach will start bleeding again. She changed Lucy’s bandage before leaving, putting the old one in the fire.

The walk is pretty long, it seems that there is only one bridge to cross the breach. And that it is far away from where they are.

“It’s weird that we haven’t crossed anyone’s path” Ona mumbles at some point.

“Yeah” Lucy answers. “I think they used the fog to make people come closer to each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if they do something similar soon.”

Ona hums. She doesn’t really like the idea. The last time she had time with Teagan to leave, but it wasn’t the case for Lilith. Her death might have been harsh If Ona remembered correctly the screams of pain that she lets go before dying.

When they finally reach the bridge, Ona takes a last look behind her before crossing it, still behind Lucy. As soon as they arrive on the other side, the heath strikes them hard.

“What the fuck” Ona says, instinctively tying her hair.

Lucy smiles when she hears and sees Ona. Then she looks around, trying to remember where she went with Tony.

“I’m pretty sure the Oasis isn’t that way” she says, pointing somewhere right in front of them. “That’s where we went with Declan. Maybe we should go there?”

Ona nods, not having anything to say. She never came here before. The heath and the sand everywhere are very impressive, to be honest. But if they find the oasis, they could have something very interesting to have.

Still walking, Ona looks at Lucy’s neck and the drop of sweat running slowly on her skin. The sun is still high in the sky, which is a good thing because it means they still have a lot of time before the night. But they are still very hot because of the sun too.

“Are you okay?” Ona asks Lucy for the thousand times since they left.

“I am” Lucy answers patiently. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

They walk for some time more, seeing nothing around them other than sand and blue sky, until…

“This is the end of the arena”

Ona raises her head to look where Lucy is pointing. She doesn’t see anything at first, until she finally sees something looking like mini light blue lightning running in front of her eyes.

“We turn around?” Ona proposes.

Lucy bites her lips, thinking for several seconds before answering.

“I don’t know. If we do that, we will lose time and maybe we won’t find the oasis. But at least we know where we are exactly.”

“We were coming from the east to west. We just had to look at the sun to know where to go back” Ona shrugs.

There is a moment of silence, Lucy looking at Ona blankly for some long seconds, before answering.

“You know how to find your way with the sky?”

Lucy’s amazement is easily audible in her voice when she asks that question. But Ona just shrugs before smirking.

“I thought you would be able to do it too, aren’t you the one coming from the best fisherman’s family of Panem?”

Lucy rolls her eyes and smiles.

“I have nothing from the Bronze. And we have a compass and that kind of thing.”

They are walking next to each other now, softly bumping into each other from time to time while talking. There is nothing around them and they would easily see if someone else was here.

But they have to admit at some point that finding the oasis is harder than they thought. The sun is now hiding behind the horizon, gradually plunging them into the night.

“Do you want to take the torch?” Lucy asks Ona.

“I don’t know. Is this not going to draw attention to us?”

Ona looks at Lucy for several seconds before answering, not wanting to scare the girl.

“Are there not scorpions that come out of the sand at night?”

Lucy froze and looks at Ona, her eyebrows softly frowned. It’s something they learned during the survival courses, but to be honest, Lucy completely forgot about it.

“You are right…” Lucy answers slowly, before opening her eyes wide. “Wait, what is on your arm?”

Frowning at turn, Ona looks at her arm. A scorpion. There is a scorpion on her arm.

Next chapter (Coming soon...)

#woso imagine #woso fanfics #ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #lucy bronze #ona batlle x lucy bronze #lucy and ona #lucy bronze x ona batlle #lucy bronze imagine #woso x hunger games

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maddy-k-reads-all-day · 3 days ago

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Lunchtime!

Finally, all the homework is done. Sophie sighs in relief. Now I can watch the next tape. Sophie takes the tape and sticks it into the VCR. It begins to play.

“Hi friends, I’m Amanda.” Amanda beams.

“And I’m Wooly…” Wooly smiles. They are standing in the kitchen.

“And today we’re going to make lunch together for our picnic!” Amanda announces. “We had a picnic with Riley once! It was fun.” Amanda grins.

“A… picnic…” Wooly says quietly.

“Hm? What was that?” Amanda wonders, Wooly doesn’t respond, he looks deep in thought. “Okay anyway… First we need to make some sandwiches! What’s your favorite kind of sandwich?” Sophie thinks for a moment. BLT. she answers “Really? Oh my gosh me too! Guess what? That’s what we’re going to be making today!” Amanda cheers.

“I… think I’ll have a PB and J…” Wooly mumbles.

“What? But you have that every day! And we went out of our way to grow the vegetables and buy the bacon!” Amanda protests.

“I don’t think I want bacon…”

“You could just have lettuce and tomato.” Amanda suggests. Wooly still looks unsure. “You know, you should never be afraid to try new things!”

“I want a PB and J.” Wooly pouts. Amanda smiles.

“Okay Wooly, you can have your PB and J.” she chuckles. “Let’s get our ingredients first! We’ll need bread, lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, and… peanut butter and jelly.” She grabs a step stool and climbs up on the counter. “Can you tell me where the bread is?” she asks. Sophie clicks on it. “Alright, then the peanut butter?” Sophie clicks on that too. “Great!” Amanda stumbles a little as she climbs down. Wooly’s face folds in worry, and he immediately runs over to help her. “I’m okay Wooly, just lost my footing a little. How about you have a turn?” she suggests.

“Can you tell me where the fridge is?” Sophie clicks on it. “Nice! We need bacon and peach jelly. Do you see them?” Sophie clicks on them. “Thanks!” He puts them on the counter and waits patiently, looking toward Amanda.

“Wooly… we still need lettuce and tomatoes.” Amanda reminds him.

“Oh right… those should be…” he walks back to the fridge. Amanda transports them to the garden. “Oh right! I forgot! We gotta pick some more!” Sophie clicks on the lettuce and tomatoes. Amanda and Wooly pick some and put them into a bowl. Then the tape freezes and glitches back into the kitchen. “Now it’s time to make sandwiches!”

“Um wait a second Wooly, we gotta rinse off the vegetables first.” Amanda reminds him.

“Right, right.” Wooly chuckles nervously. Amanda looks at him with concern. She waits a moment. As if expecting him to say something more.

“It’s important to rinse off your vegetables before eating them, and check them for any bugs! You wouldn’t want to find a worm in your sandwich, gross!” Amanda says, “Where do we rinse off our vegetables?” Sophie clicks on the sink. She watches Amanda rinse them off. “Alright! Now it’s time to make sandwiches!” Amanda separates the bread. Wooly just stares at it. “Wooly, is something wrong?”

“Oh um… I’m… fine.”

“Really? Are you sure? We can take a break if-” “No Amanda, I’m fine. Really!”

“Okay…” Amanda still looks worried, “Um…” Amanda looks unsure as to what to do. “Let’s make sandwiches!” the tape glitches and the sandwiches are made.

“Okay, we got the sandwiches, a blanket, some juice boxes, now all we need is a special treat!” Amanda explains.

“Wait Amanda… did you fast-forward the tape?” Wooly asks.

“What? No, I had all this prepared before the episode, remember?” Amanda answers.

“Amanda you didn’t have to do that.”

“Wooly I don’t know what you’re talking about. I prepared them all this morning, remember? Oh right, you were asleep.” Amanda recalls. Wooly looks, kinda mad. “If you think I did it for you because I know you’re tired, I didn’t okay? Now let’s get some cooki- you know what, forget cookies. I want cupcakes. Let’s grab some of those instead!”

“Amanda…”

“Alright, we got the cupcakes!” the tape glitches. “Now let’s pack our lunch!” Amanda starts putting everything in the picnic basket. “Yay! We’re done, and look, it’s lunchtime! Let’s go have our picnic!” the tape glitches to the park where they had a picnic before.

“Yay! It’s such a nice day out! It’s a perfect day for a picnic!” Amanda beams.

“Amanda, those clouds are looking pretty dark.” Wooly points out. “And it’s pretty windy…” Amanda gives him a little glare.

“Let’s set up our picnic!” she smiles. “First we need to lay out the blanket!” Sophie clicks on the blanket. Amanda tries to lay it out but the wind makes this very difficult. “Wooly, a little help here?”

“Right.” They both try to lay the blanket down, but a gust of wind blows it out of their hands.

“Wa-wait! Wait! Wait!” Amanda runs after it but it flies far away. “My picnic blanket…” she says sadly. “Mmm… Well whatever, we’ll sit in the grass.”

“But I don’t like sitting in the grass…” Wooly protests.

“We’re sitting in. The. Grass.” Amanda demands. Wooly nods. “Ah! Sorry! I just… got a little mad about the blanket and… aaaah… I just wanted this picnic to go well!” she groans.

“It’s okay…”

“No, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that.” Amanda sighs, “anyway… let’s just eat and get out of here before it rains.” She hands Wooly his sandwich and takes out her own. “Mmmm! These are so good! How’s yours Wooly?”

“It’s good…” he mumbles, but he hasn’t even taken a bite.

“Are you sure you’re okay Wooly, you’ve been acting kind of… off… today.”

“No no… it’s fine… I’m…” tears start dripping down his cheeks. “Oh my… heh heh… I guess my allergies are really bad today…” he tries to wipe them away. Amanda comes over and gives him a big hug.

“Hey… you’re allowed to not be okay.” Amanda tells him. Wooly responds by hugging her really tight. Really really tight. “Ow ow ow… but you are not allowed to break my back.”

“Amanda… remember our last picnic?”

“Yeah I- Oh.” Amanda suddenly realizes their last picnic was not so pleasant.

“Sometimes… I feel myself rotting too…” he says quietly. “Amanda… I know I ask this all the time… but are we really getting out of here? Are we really going to be able to go to the real world and do… I don’t know… fun stuff together?”

“Maybe not Wooly… maybe not…” Amanda sighs, gently petting the fluff on his head, “that’s why I decided… that we might as well have some fun adventures here… make here as comfortable as possible.”

“Okay…” he sniffles.

“So Wooly? How are we going to make this place as fun and comfortable as possible, for both of us?” Amanda asks. Wooly thinks about it for a bit. He takes a bite of his sandwich.

“This really is good.” he says, “Um… I… don’t want to eat meat anymore… it kind of freaks me out.”

“That’s fine.”

“And maybe you could stop commenting about my weight?”

“Urk! Have I? Okay… I’ll keep that in mind…” “And… could we lower the cabinets so we can reach them?”

“Alright.”

“And I don’t like it when you do dangerous stuff… and I’d rather not go out at night.”

“Aww… but what about stargazing?” Amanda asks.

“That’s fine… and I don’t like it when you talk about death and rotting and stuff…”

“Mmm… okay. Got it.” “And… could we have warm milk and cookies before bed.”

“Like… every night? That’s a lot of milk and cookies!” Amanda laughs. Wooly looks sad. “Yeah we can do that…”

“What about you?”

“Me? Hmm… Well, I don’t like being interrupted. I don’t like it when things go wrong. I wanna try and see just how much we can do in this imaginary world. I don’t wanna go to the library anymore… and I don’t want to talk about Hameln or whether or not we can leave. What happens will happen and whatever happens I’ll be right here by your side, okay?”

“You’re like a big sister Amanda.” Wooly smiles.

“Is that right?” Amanda chuckles forcefully. She pauses for a moment, “Here’s something else that I want to… and I’m not sure how to say this… because I don’t want you to take it the wrong way but… every now and then… could I have some alone time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… an episode where I just do an activity on my own…”

“Huh? Why? Di-Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you’re fine. I just want a little me-time sometimes. Sometimes… I wanna do something by myself with Riley. Or… like you talking to Sophie with the cookies…”

“How did you-” “I couldn’t sleep either… I guess we kind of had a similar idea but… I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh… so you heard all that…” Wooly looks a bit… distraught.

“Not all of it… ah! I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything… it was an accident!” Amanda frantically explains, “Look, the point is… I’m glad we’re friends again… it’s just… this time I want us to really be able to depend on each other… but not be dependent on each other.” Wooly looks hurt. Amanda sighs, “I knew this was a bad time…”

“No no, it’s fiiiine.” Wooly says, sounding annoyed, “I totally get it.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“You’re just sick of me aren’t you?” Wooly laughs, pushing Amanda away.

“See you don’t get it at all!”

“What do I not get?” Wooly snaps.

“I’m not sick of you! I want to be your friend, I want to be a better friend! I’m trying really hard to respect your boundaries and make things better for you Wooly, all I’m asking is that you do the same.”

“But I don’t like being alone…”

“Why not?”

“Because when I’m alone I start thinking a lot of… dark thoughts… sad stuff…”

“Well, what do you do when you're alone?”

“Um… nothing?”

“Well that’s your issue, you gotta do something. Get a hobby.”

“Like…”

“Whatever you want. Personally I like to draw.”

“But I’m not good at drawing.” Wooly pouts.

“Then find something else you like.” Amanda shrugs, “How’s this? If you find something you really like, we can do it together sometime!”

“Well okay…” he turns to Sophie, “What do you like to do?” Amanda facepalms. Reading. Sophie types. Wooly makes a very disinterested face.

“See, you got plenty of time to figure it out next time I want some me-time! Got it?”

“I guess so…”

“Don’t worry so much Wooly!” Amanda says, this seems to bother him a little, “I’m not saying we’re NEVER going to hang out. I just want a little bit of me-time, okay?”

“Okay…” Wooly sighs. Just then, the picnic blanket blows by. “Oh, I’ll get it!” Wooly shouts, running after it. He jumps up and grabs it, falling onto the ground.

“Wooly, are you okay?” Amanda asks, running over.

“Look, I caught it!” Wooly beams, seeming super proud of himself. Amanda laughs and helps him up.

“Yeah, you did!”

“Now we can sit on it!” Wooly points out, “Can you help us?” Sophie clicks on the blanket and they lay it out.

“Now let’s have some cupcakes!” Amanda beams. She goes back and grabs them. “For you Wooly.”

“Why thank you.” he giggles.

“So, are you feeling a bit better now?”

“I guess so…” Wooly replies.

“Good. Now let’s enjoy this dang picnic!” Amanda announces, digging into her cupcake. “Mmm so good!” she glances over at Wooly and laughs, “Wooly, you got a bit of frosting on your nose!”

“Oh really? Ha! Take that!” he snickers, sticking a blob of frosting on Amanda’s nose. They both laugh.

“See, we can have fun here too.” Amanda says.

“Ye-yeah!” he replies, still looking a bit unsure.

“Enjoy your picnic!” Amanda calls out to Sophie, and the tape ends. She turns around and sees a picnic basket. Inside are some toy cupcakes… and the next tape. Aww… I was enjoying those puzzles. Sophie thinks to herself. It looks like things are working out but… I still sense a storm on the horizon. Just then, Riley comes inside.

“Oh hey, did you get the tapes?”

“Yeah… only four of them though.”

“I got some toy cupcakes, and a tape from Amanda without even needing to do a puzzle!”

“She just gave it to you? Like a freebie? No way! How many tapes have you watched with her?”

“Only like… four…” Sophie smirks. Riley looks so frustrated and betrayed it makes Sophie laugh. “Maybe she wouldn’t mess with you if you didn’t mess with her so much!”

“Well fine!” Riley pouts, “If that’s the way it is I guess you’ll be the only one watching the tapes from now on! They shouldn’t mind since they like you sooooo much!” Now Sophie is absolutely cracking up.

“No no, don’t do that! Amanda was just talking about wanting to spend time with you! Like… just you!” Sophie explains. Riley now seems touched. “She really misses you a ton.”

“And Wooly?”

“He seems… happy that you’re gone.”

“That little-” Riley grumbles, “Oh right, about those demons I mentioned, don’t get Amanda and Wooly too pissed off at you or they will attack you!”

“Um… excuse me?!” Sophie gasps, immediately catching Riley in a noogie, “Listen here you! I don’t mind you getting me mixed up in this weird, creepy, cult business, but demons? Well I guess they are a demonic cult… but huh? You didn’t think to tell me this BEFORE?”

“I told you the demons were attached to the tapes! I wasn’t really in the best headspace at that point so it kinda slipped my mind.”

“So those cuts and scrapes on your arms?”

“The other demon saved my life. But uh yeah it’s kinda my fault… shouldn’t have pushed Wooly’s buttons like that…”

“That poor kid constantly looks one wrong word away from a mental breakdown.” Sophie observed.

“So has Amanda absolutely lost it on you yet?”

“She gave me some hard puzzles for a bit… but I think I finally got on her good side.” Sophie explains.

“Scary.”

“Huh?”

“You are scary good with kids Sophie. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Well I am studying to become a daycare provider.”

“Girl you could go to much higher places-”

“Maybe…” Sophie sighs, “One day I might want to be a child psychologist… but I want to have enough money saved to go to a better school for that.”

“I told you, I have some inheritance from Aunt Kate-”

“That you should use for yourself. It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry Sophie… I shouldn’t have-”

“Nuh-uh. Shut up. You are not going to apologize for getting me involved. I am happy to be involved. I want to be involved. Now do you want to watch the next tape with me?” Sophie smiles, gently rocking the tape in her hand. Riley kisses her on the forehead.

“Of course I do.”

Authors Note: Kay I lied. Ended up having some free time today and I really wanted to write. So here's the next chapter. :) Riley and Sophie's conversation was really funny to write. Next fic is completely fluff. I am committing myself to one completely fluff fic for you guys (This will be very hard for me, lol). But only cuz I want Amanda and Wooly to have some fun!

#amanda the adventurer #amanda the adventurer 2 #wooly the sheep #ata 2 #maddykpost #amanda the adventurer wooly #fanfic #fanfiction #maddykwrites

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diana-bluewolf · 2 months ago

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I commissioned awesome @deathlysallows to make a mod for Chris's hair, and I'm as happy as a clam (the happiest clam in the universe) *_* She's such a pleasure to work with <3

#also I'm glad I found that old shabby texture for his coat #like look at his sleeve in the third pic - it looks so threadbare #just what I needed for him!#I still have several drafts with his old hair #so I probably will be posting them too now and then #or maybe not #we will see #hogwarts legacy #wait a second I still have something important to say #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!#that's it thank you for your attention #chris mongrel #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy screenchots #my_screenshots_chris

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whateveriwant · 5 months ago

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Ok I lied. Here’s some more Simon fucking himself stupid because apparently he has a chokehold on me. (prev: part 1, part 2)

You’d think a man that regularly fucks his own brains mushy would have a poor performance in the bedroom, right? For a normal man, perhaps, but this is Simon Riley we’re talking about; ‘vigor’ is his middle name.

So even after going for multiple rounds, cycling through multiple positions, and getting covered in multiple fluids, your boyfriend is as ready to go as ever… physically speaking, that is. Because as far as mentally goes, he dropped out a long time ago, somewhere between taking you on your back and then on your knees.

Now you’ve reached the part of the night you like to call your ‘wind down phase’, where you’re just looking for one last, easy release before you throw in the towel. But where you’re tired, sensitive as hell, and already feeling tomorrow’s soreness starting to creep in, Simon’s still pinching and pawing at you like he can’t get enough.

As you lazily ride him, fingers curled over his thick shoulders, Simon’s own hands are pressed hungrily into the meat of your hips. From where he’s sat against the headboard, his lower back propped up by a pillow or two, he’s in the perfect position to guide you back and forth in his lap.

It’s as you feel the slow approach of your final climax that you begin to pick up the pace a little, only to slow right back down again as a sudden noise has you distracted. It takes you a second to place the sound, but once you recognize it, you’re immediately grinding your movements to a halt.

Simon’s phone only rings when it’s you or his work calling. And seeing the current situation you find yourselves in, you know it’s not the former.

The phone rings and rings, neither one of you bothering to move for it. The call gets sent to voicemail, and for a moment you think that’s all it’s going to be, but as the phone promptly begins to trill again, you know something else is up.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you reach over to the nightstand to grab the device. “It’s John,” you tell your boyfriend, seeing his Captain’s contact flash across the screen. You turn the phone around to show Simon, but it seems he has little interest in it, his grip on your waist unwavering as his phone buzzes away in your hand.

“Should you answer? Could be important,” you say. The boss making back to back calls speaks of urgency, if not emergency. But Simon’s focus lies solely on where your two bodies are connected, a sex-fueled tunnel vision if you ever saw one.

Though one look at Simon’s face tells you he’s in no place to have a meaningful conversation right now, as the phone darkens again, only to then light up for a third time in a row, you know this is serious. So despite the haziness in his eyes and the limpness of his jaw, you decide to answer the phone, putting it on speaker.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment before you hear the deep baritone of Price’s voice calling out. “Simon?” He waits a beat. “Simon, hello?” He tries again when he hears nothing in response.

While Price is kept in limbo, you’re busy trying to rouse your boyfriend back from brain death. “Simon, it’s John,” you whisper to him, hoping to not be heard by the other man on the phone. Unfortunately, Simon gives zero indication he’s heard you, his bleary gaze looking right past you.

“You there, Simon?” Price’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Bringing your hand up, you lightly tap Simon on the cheek. “Baby, it’s John. Your boss,” you whisper again, slightly louder this time.

Again, he offers you no response, just a slow blink, an even slower trickle of drool starting to form at the corner of his mouth.

As you hear another gruff, “Simon?”, being spoken over the phone, your taps become a little more insistent, a little more forceful.

“It’s Price, Si. Price. Captain Price,” you hiss, urgently patting him against the cheek.

Somehow, whether by miracle or sheer force, you’re able to knock Simon’s last two brain cells together and coax forth a vaguely human-sounding reaction from him.

“Priiizzzzze,” Simon rumbles out, a garbled approximation of his Captain’s surname.

The line goes quiet for a beat, and you can almost imagine the man on the other side blinking in confusion. Then, “You alright, Simon?” he asks earnestly. “Now’s not a bad time, is it?”

Thankfully, Simon seems to have regained the smallest hint of his bearings again, and he manages to hum a solid, “Mmmf.”

Price takes a moment to consider what he means by such an ambiguous response, and deciding it translates to ‘Speak freely’, he does just that. “Well, I’m callin’ because we’ve just received word of some new developments comin’ out of Hong Kong. Laswell’ll want to give a full briefing tomorrow mornin’, but essentially–”

And that’s about as far as Simon gets before he checks out again.

As Price continues to lay down the basics for him, Simon’s focus shifts back to what he really desires: the person he’s currently buried to the hilt inside.

His Captain’s droning acts as little more than background noise as Simon reaches up and begins toying with one of your nipples. The action is unexpected (not to mention ill-timed given the circumstances), and you try batting his hand away, even as a pleasurable tweak has you choking back a moan.

However, unfazed, Simon drags his fingers down, down, downwards, slowly tracing the midline of your body until he reaches your throbbing sex. His fingers are warm and slightly rough as he begins to stroke you, applying just the barest of touches, but it’s enough to light your nerves on fire.

This time, it’s harder to stop your moans from spilling forth, and you’re forced to mash your lips together lest you reveal your presence to the Captain still chirping on and on. Your free hand darts down to grab Simon’s wrist, meaning to tug it away, but instead, you find yourself pausing, holding onto him as a shudder wracks up your spine.

You know you should push him away – or, at the very least, tell him to ease up a little – but it just feels so fucking good that you can’t bring yourself to do either.

Besides, even if you were to speak up, would Simon be cognizant enough to heed your words? A quick peek at his expression tells you all you need to know. The lights may be on upstairs, but there is no one home right now to answer the phone.

You can feel the hand between your legs grow wetter and wetter as you start to leak droplets of your arousal. The slippery fluid makes Simon’s fingers glide that much smoother, that much slicker as he rubs you.

Even the way he’s touching you now – the way he’s expertly taking you apart – isn’t the result of conscious decision making by Simon. His movements, however deft, aren’t directed by any true rhyme or reason; they’re pure muscle memory at this point.

Simon’s other hand on your hip starts to rock you against him, and you find it’s getting harder to keep yourself under control. Try as you might to tamp your voice down, your ecstasy soon gets the better of you, and before you can stop it, you’re muttering a less than subtle, “Fuck.”

Immediately, you realize what you’ve done, and you slap a hand over your mouth at your mistake. As Price’s side of the call goes similarly quiet, you squeeze your eyes shut, wanting to kick yourself for your carelessness.

Just as you think the jig is up, however, you catch a lucky break, as not a second later, Price resumes, “–boots on the ground to confirm what these sat images have been pickin’ up.”

The feeling of relief that floods you is almost akin to euphoria, and you exhale deeply (but not loud enough to be picked up over the receiver) as you bring your hand back down.

That was close; way too close for comfort, honestly. And yet, despite how close you just came to exposing yourself, Simon is totally, completely oblivious to it all.

This time when you reach for the wrist between your legs, you successfully tug it away. You feel like you’ve tempted fate enough for one night.

Though Simon puts up zero fight as you remove his hand from your sex, that’s only because he then reaches up and quickly stuffs his slickened fingers into his mouth. His eyes fall shut as he savors the salty taste of your arousal, a sort of blissful wave washing over him as he sucks his fingers clean.

Somehow, though you’re not sure how it’s possible, you swear you can feel him grow even harder where he’s buried inside you. The sensation makes you squirm, wanting to bear down on the fullness within you, but you force yourself to resist the urge to tilt your hips back and forth.

This is almost torture at this point, like you’re caught in some kind of kinky Saw trap. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more of this you can take. But thankfully, it appears you won’t have to endure it for much longer.

“All that’s to say, it looks like our timetable’s been moved up. We’ll be shippin’ out earlier than expected,” Price starts to wind the one-sided conversation down.

Though Simon has been relatively mute this entire time, for some reason, at this moment, he takes the opportunity to let out a long, “Mmmmmm.”

While you know the noise isn’t much more than an appreciative moan at your taste, Price is unaware of that fact, and so he asks, “That’s not a problem, is it, Lieutenant?”

You both wait a few beats for Simon to respond, but with less than a handful of working neurons left in his brain, you figure that’s unlikely to happen. Knowing Price is still expecting an answer and your boyfriend is unable to offer him one, you realize you have to take matters into your own hands once more.

So puffing out your chest and straightening up your spine, you muster up your best Simon impression as you expel a deep, gravelly, “Hmm.” The several seconds that follow find you holding your breath in anticipation, praying to whatever god will listen that Price buys your impersonation.

It’s after he eventually says, “Alright, well, I’ll expect you at 0800 for tomorrow’s brief,” that you breathe again, feeling nearly on the verge of passing out.

Frankly, this whole ordeal has left you exhausted. From having to hide from Price to having to pull one over on him, you feel like your heart is liable to give out any moment now.

If only Simon had been more of a conscious participant in this conversation maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. You and him could have quietly laughed and swore together in your shared misery. Instead, he’s too preoccupied with squeezing your nipple again between his wet fingers to notice anything’s the matter.

You don’t even bother pushing his hand away this time as you can sense the call is mercifully coming to a close.

“Have a good rest of your night, Simon,” Price says through the speaker.

If you weren’t so wrecked right now, you could almost leap with joy from how utterly relieved you feel. From the moment you answered this call, you thought you’d undoubtedly be found out. Truth be told, you’re not sure how you managed to make it through the past several minutes unheard and undiscovered. All you know is that you did and you’re beyond grateful for that.

But before you can hang up the phone to celebrate, Price has one last thing to say. Just as you’re about to press the end call button, just as you’re about to fling the phone to the far side of the room, just as you’re about to collapse into a boneless heap because you’re finally, finally, finally in the clear, Price gives one last farewell that makes your stomach fall out of your ass.

“And you too, (Y/N).”

The call dies, and you wish you died with it.

#i made him like a literal caveman in this so i hope y'all are into some freaky unga bunga stuff 😭#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

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svtswhorehouse · 6 months ago

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DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

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astonmartinii · 7 months ago

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i love him, it's ruining my life [guilty as sin part one] | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem sainz!reader

a contract ends, a relationship is exposed and even with everything on the line, she still loves him.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 621,099 others

yourusername: out and about town

view all comments

user1: girl? girl? GIRL?

user2: carlos' career is DEAD AND SHE'S POSTING VACATION PICS ON INSTAGRAM

user3: at least they're cute instagram pics

landonorris: y/n i think it's time you finally take that phone off of do not disturb

yourusername: but that's the perpetual state of my phone i am a poet i was born to be in the woods, if you have news tell me now before i close this app in 20 seconds

landonorris: i don't want to air your brother's business out in a public instagram comments literally just scroll through your timeline idiot

yourusername: wait let me open the family group chat

yourusername: WHAT

user4: are we about to see her reaction to carlos losing his seat in real time?

user5: let me grab my popcorn one sec

yourusername: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?

landonorris: take your phone off DND for once in your life and maybe you’d be clued in on the news

charles_leclerc: and while you’re at it reply to all the tiktoks i sent you

landonorris: not the time leclerc

charles_leclerc: but but but my tiktoks… i finally got a tarot card reading that resonates

landonorris: NOT THE TIME

charles_leclerc: don’t hate the player hate the game

carlossainz55: really?

charles_leclerc: i am TALKING ABOUT TIKTOKS LEAVE ME ALONE

yourusername: this is a lot - gosh can’t a girl go on holiday without everything imploding (i'll check the tiktoks in a second)

user6: anyone kinda weirded out that charles is just here joking with y/n as if his teammate and her brother hasn’t just been forced out of a job?

liked by carlossainz55

user7: babe he wasn’t forced out of a job, his contract wasn’t renewed. the last time i checked this was a sport where they compete not sit around and sit kumbaya

liked by charles_leclerc

user8: oh! they’re both liking shady comments already, it’s been a day since the announcement

user9: this is gonna get ugly isn’t it?

user10: awful, truly. i’m sat.

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,029,458 others

carlossainz55: love all, trust a few and do wrong to none

view all comments

user11: .... right, what ever the fuck that means?

user12: i mean i was just here to celebrate the win what is all this poetry

user11: are we shading charles? lewis? ferrari?

yourusername: shakespeare, really?

carlossainz55: i can read you know

yourusername: oh really, that's news to me

user13: erm you guys i thought the whole job loss thing was meant to bring the family together....

user14: they joke like this all the time this is just sibling banter

user15: idk it's reading a lil more tense than usual, not that there's any reason for that (that we know of)

charles_leclerc: doing the tifosi proud ❤️

carlossainz55: will do while i can

user16: yall .... what happened to the chemistry

user17: they were never friends - pierre tried to tell yall

landonorris: a carlando podium !!! lets do this every week

carlossainz55: golf buddies and podium buddies - you love to see it

landonorris: LETS GO WILD AND PUT IT ON FERRARIS TAB THEY OWE YOU

landonorris: i mean let's celebrate your triumph good pal!

user18: the PR monster got lando :( rip

carlossainz55: just being able to win in front of the most important people in my life is enough

user19: does anyone else think it was weird that y/n wasn't at the race?

user20: like y/n loves australia she litr says that she was an aussie in a past life...

user21: also the most recent carlos comment... is y/n not one of the most important people in his life?

user22: do we think something has happened? like maybe he thought she should've cut her holiday short to come home to support him?

user23: also the fact that her and charles were immediately like joking around with each other? maybe it just rubbed him the wrong way

user24: but not even considering her an important person to him? and also that just seems like he's shifting all the blame to charles when it's ferrari who haven't extended the contract

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 892,309 others

tagged: kellypiquet & yourusername

maxverstappen1: she says she's a professional third wheel, i call that being a LEECH

view all comments

user29: unlikely trio but somehow my favourite

user30: y/n really be their overgrown child

yourusername: how am i the leech when i paid for the ice cream mr millionaire 🤨

maxverstappen1: ever thought about how i want to spend quality time with my girlfriend?

yourusername: won't someone think of the children

maxverstappen1: ur 23

yourusername: that's it! p and i are unionising against this if you find suspiciously well drawn crayon graffiti on your walls it was NOT me

maxverstappen1: don't threaten my walls if you still want to come to races

yourusername: low blow 😩

user31: does that mean... she's not going to races with carlos?

user32: she's always been in his garage tho like even with how close her and max have always been SHE'S ALWAYS IN GARAGE 55

user33: i feel like this has something to do with the whole seat situation i'm not sure how but like i think there's something weird going on here

kellypiquet: don't worry @yourusername it might be max's house but it's p that has the final say

yourusername: no one gets bluey like i do

maxverstappen1: yeah but while you're here you get the best seat at the tea party IT'S NOT FAIR

yourusername: well one of us can name all the disney princesses and one of us can't

user34: so.... y/n is living with max? but i thought her and carlos shared an apartment in madrid?

user35: guys i'm so confused

user36: we need the twitter detectives on this asap

charles_leclerc: no lec... when i specifically sent you a PR bundle, you hate to see it

maxverstappen1: you only sent that to us for y/n

charles_leclerc: maybe! but i have it on good authority that you loved the vanilla

maxverstappen1: ummmmmmm no i'm a professional athlete, y/n ate all of it

yourusernames: FALSEHOODS

charles_leclerc: i know who i believe

maxverstappen1: why is everyone ganging up on me in this comment section

user37: charles sending lec to max's house just for y/n WHAT DOES THIS ALL MEAN

user38: and does it have anything to do with carlos maybe kicking her out

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 673,892 others

yourusername: gotta make sure i give p a reason to tell me stick around

view all comments

user39: charles is always in the likes before me and i have notifications on

user40: they seem like such close friends it's so annoying that they're never spotted together at a race and we have no pictures of them :(

charles_leclerc: why do i never get any baked goods i literally sent my ice cream to my arch rivals house just for you

yourusername: you're never in the fucking country that's why

charles_leclerc: i have this kind of demanding job i don't know if you knew

yourusername: i also have the demanding job of being sexy and i cope just fine

charles_leclerc: i heard you got employee of the year, hard to be too upset when you're the competition

yourusername: better luck next time babe

user41: openly flirting with the guy that caused her brother to lose his job, this girl is just shameless

yourusername: do you think charles is the literal ceo of ferrari?

user42: why are you defending charles more than your actual brother?

yourusername: i feel like i gotta make this statement every three buisness days on here but like you people don't know what happens in our personal lives and i can defend my friends if i feel they're being unnecessarily questioned

user43: queen snapped omg

user38: they always be out here trying her like she's not a writer and poet SHE WILL READ YOU FOR FILTH

maxverstappen1: pretty sure she'd replace you with me in like two seconds so you're safe until [redacted] gets home

yourusername: i'm pretty sure with the right campaign i could sway jimmy and sassy to my side as well

user44: who the FUCK IS REDACTED

maxverstappen1: wouldn't you like to know 🤨

yourusername: max ???

maxverstappen1: what? i didn't have friends growing up i like that you tell me secrets

yourusername: oh :(

maxverstappen1: you wanna tell me more?

yourusername: NO YOU ALREADY KNOW THE BIGGEST ONE

maxverstappen1: true 💅🏻

user45: so like the secret is defo a relationship right?

user46: do we think carlos knows?

user47: by the fact that he's not in these comments... probably not

user48: so like he looses his seat and finds out his sister is in a secret relationship? someone give the guy a break

user49: or maybe, just maybe, there's a reason that y/n hasn't told carlos and he's not the guy we all think he is

liked by charles_leclerc

user50: OH? this war is so on ....

f1teaspill

liked by user51, user52 and 31,845 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

f1teaspill: the war at ferrari is heating up... turns out there's a lot carlos didn't know and FOR YEARS. yes, you're reading that right, y/n sainz and charles leclerc have been in a relationship for at least two years and believe us we have a VERY credible source like WITHIN THE FAMILY level source.

the most important thing about this whole relationship is how carlos did not know for years, so how much more was hidden from him? did y/n know about the seat swap for lewis? was she leaking strategies to charles? was she sabotaging her own brother?

view all comments

user53: OH SHITTTTTTTTTT

user54: cancel me if you will but i think the hottest couple in f1 just dropped

user55: the fact we've been robbed of content of them for years .... i'm angry I NEED THE POETRY ABOUT CHARLES

user56: i'm gonna need y/n or charles to drop all the pics in response

user57: y'all a source "within the family"? did these fools find out about y/n's relationship and immediately run to an f1 TEA PAGE???

user58: that's some goofy ass shit

user59: i find it funny that instead of sitting down and thinking about why their daughter/sister didn't feel comfortable enough to tell you about her relationship they're like i know EXACTLY who needs to hear this

user60: the way it's proved her completely right to not tell them

user61: do you guys think this is like a tv show or like fan fiction? in what world is y/n sharing strategies to fuck over her own BROTHER?

user62: also be for fucking real... strategies? ferrari? at least try and be realistic

user63: also.... walk with me .... why would y/n and charles conspire to put lewis hamilton in carlos' seat? LEWIS FUCKING HAMILTON AND SEVEN TIME WORLD CHAMPION? WHY WOULD CHARLES WANT TO TAKE HIM ON OVER A GUY HE'S ALREADY BEATEN TWICE

user64: see this is the point! sainz camp you can try and demonise charles and yOUR OWN DAUGHTER all you want but we all know it's bull shit

user65: one thing about this that really rubs me the wrong way is that the sainz camp clearly expected that if y/n was in a relationship with charles that she would've been a double agent for carlos? and because she's not fucking insane they're now going for character assassination of their own SISTER/DAUGHTER

user66: THIS THIS THIS

user67: carlos won't even consider y/n an "important" person in his life but expect her to sacrifice or exploit her relationship for cheap psychological points

user68: also y/n isn't even at most races so how is she getting carlos' strategies to give to charles? this shit doesn't make any sense

user69: carlos himself has said in an interview that y/n is useless when it comes to racing that she's just a supportive figure rather than someone who has any in depth racing knowledge

user70: this is insane level hating with all the evidence out here... and against your own family...

user71: this just makes me think that y/n wasn't in australia for a reason - like was she banned from carlos' garage

user72: and the fact she's been staying at max's it just makes me think that y/n was kicked out of her and carlos' apartment

user73: now tHATS INSANE

espnf1

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 1,025,788 others

tagged: carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & yourusername

espnf1: well... this could be awkward

view all comments

user77: espn babe you're just like me

user78: *slides $5 across the bar* get a camera in the ferrari garage?

espnf1: we're working on it 😩

user79: pierre and max here... they really are the paddock gossip girls

maxverstappen1: i guess carlos couldn't handle that i knew who redacted was before him 🤷🏻‍♂️

carlossainz55: really?

maxverstappen1: don't put your sister on the streets and i won't dunk these jokes on your head

user80: is this like the official f1 civil war?

carlossainz55: you don't know anything max, i'd really keep your nose out of our business

maxverstappen1: i actually know exactly how you guys move, you tried it on 17 year old me and it becomes my business when my best friend calls me with no where else to go (also i know you changed the locks while you were in maranello so she wouldn't be able to go to charles, you're not slick)

carlossainz55: i never took you as a lap dog max

yourusername: calling him the lap dog when you're the biggest bitch on the grid - bold

carlossainz55: you're burning a lot of bridges for a talentless slut who had to start fucking my teammate when we cut you off

yourusername: keep throwing your PR to the fire and see who fucking hires you, i guess we'll both be unemployed bums

user80: also imagine calling her talentless like she isn't a well established poet LOL

user81: guys this is getting so bad so quickly

user82: we got the whole rest of the season of this

user83: mad respect to max for sticking up for his bestie

user84: and her actual boyfriend isn't?

yourusername: charles will do his talking on the track like he always does. he won't debase himself with bickering in instagram comments, funnily enough ferrari don't like that - might be the reason he still has a seat and someone doesn't

carlossainz55: or he's a pussy who has his woman talk for him

yourusername: at least he has a woman to talk for him, he doesn't behind his dad at any sign of trouble. i've always known i didn't matter to dad the moment i wasn't a boy but i'm not afraid of him or you and i know exactly how you work. good luck

user85: do they know we can all read this?

user86: when i'm in an oversharing contest and the sainz siblings walk in

user87: those ferrari debriefs are gonna be AWKWARD

yourusername: especially since he doesn't have binotto to hide behind any more

user88: girl you good?

yourusername: i've never been better, this has been building for years even before charles and i got together

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 908,487 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: i love you, it's ruining my life

view all comments

user89: y/n i'm gonna let you finish but we could really get the best poetry out of all of this

user90: for real like yeah i'm sorry your brother tried to make you homeless, exposed your relationship, accused you of treason and called you a talentless slut - but think of the poetry!

charles_leclerc: i love you and i hope you're okay

yourusername: i'll always be okay with you

charles_leclerc: it's out now and no one can take us away from each other

charles_leclerc: i'd actually love to see them try

yourusername: i'd go through this fortnight of hell over and over again if it meant i'd still keep you

charles_leclerc: i'd like to say this is the end of it but i think we're in for the long run now

yourusername: i'm prepared to go to war for you

charles_leclerc: there's no one i'd rather be on the front lines with

user91: oh brother... YOU'RE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH A POET WE GET IT

charles_leclerc: * in love with

user91: oh my bad

charles_leclerc: no worries

user91: STILL GROSS BRO

liked by maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: max ???

maxverstappen1: you guys need to calm down cause i'm not good with words and kelly is gonna start scrutinising my cards and i DO NOT HAVE THE VOCABULARY FOR IT

yourusername: lol

maxverstappen1: lol? LOL? did our brief yet forced stint as roommates mean nothing?

yourusername: fine i'll ghostwrite your valentines cards

user92: so this is all a bit melodramatic

user93: he CHANGED THE LOCKS BRO SHE HAS THE RIGHT TO BE MELODRAMATIC

liked by charles_leclerc

user94: okay so now we're in full blown f1 civil war - who is on each side?

user95: well max and pierre are on charles' side. i'd also add in lewis, seb, oscar, esteban, george, alex, yuki and daniel

user96: so carlos has lando and fernando?

fernandoalo_oficial: it might not be blood but that's my daughter

user96: ????

user97: did he just show up to diss carlos and then refuse to elaborate?

user98: sounds like a nando thing to do .... also just leaves carlos with lando lol

user99: this feels a bit unfair

yourusername: all is fair in love and poetry

fin.

note: so as soon as i had this idea (litr TTPD release day) i have been so busy and WHACKED with the worst writer's block but i hope this is a good start and rest assured knowing the beef will only get worse... I LOVE DRAMA

note: hiii extra note from me here. first, i will fix this tag list at some point idk why it's not working rn. secondly, i have been made aware by multiple people that there is a series just like this one down to characters and the name of the series on here and i can't lie i'm bummed about it. as i said on the first part (?) this is an idea i've had since the release of TTPD (and people will back me up on this) so it bums me out that there are blatant copies coming out! i'm all for inspiration but sometimes there's a difference between taking inspo and copying especially when my masterlist was posted ages ago and my first part was posted on the 9th of may.... anyways that's all i have to say! enjoy xx

taglist: @aadu2173 @rhythmstars @kqliie @booksandflowrs @2bormaybenot @firelily-mimi @evie-119

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #guilty as sin?

4K notes · View notes

midwestprincesss · 6 months ago

Text

never say sorry -sub!art donaldson x fem!reader smut

notes- this was literally supposed to be super short but i got carried away cause i am a whore (and proud of it)

cw- art is a little insecure:( , mentions of him having sex with tashi before (NO TASHI SLANDER I LOVE MY GIRL BUT IT'S FOR THE PLOT😭) , he cums prematurely (like...really..) art's a whiny little slut, art keeps calling reader love ( i got a thing for that pet name sorry y'all) , reader calls art 'artie' once cus it's cute&idc.

thinking about art constantly apologizing while having sex :( like ur unzipping his pants and he's already bucking his hips up into your hand, and then immediately muttering "sorry":(( my babyyy

so at first you think that okay, whatever, it's just something that slips out

but then he does it SO many times that you're actually starting to be concerned

like, you're giving him head and he moans a little too loudly- he's apologizing again. while kissing, you pull back for air and he still follows you, mouth half-open, wanting more - but then he realizes and he apologizes again.

but one time he really caught you off guard-

it had been a long day for him, spending almost all day training for his upcoming match. he barely had any time to rest, so he comes back to his dorm, taking off his shirt and pants, getting into bed with you only with his baby-blue boxer briefs on.

he kisses you. he's so fucking tired, but he still kisses you. 'cause he needs you, especially after the day he just had. you could feel his hard cock, practically begging you to take his boxers off.

"please love, wanna see you" he says while tugging at your top, watery eyes glistening with tears waiting to be spilled.

you take it off and unclasp your bra, little whimpers leaving his lips at the sight of you over him, with your tits out. you would love to take your time with him, really. to hear him beg and plead for you. but he's so eager, and so polite about it too- you just can't do that to him right now. so when you take off his boxers, his cock immediately jumps up, slapping his lower abdomen, right over his strawberry-blond happy trail.

"aww baby, look at you. you're so pretty aren't you?" you smile down at him, admiring how his legs shake slightly at every word you say. "hmm? aren't you?" you repeat. "mmghn- yeah, i- uhh i am" he says, eyes almost rolling back from the lack of touch. "you're what? say it." he sighs. you do this a lot. 'self love is important' you usually tell him- but not now. not when his dick is out, aching and leaking and begging to be touched. but just for the sake of it- just because he wants to please you, he says it. "i'm pretty"

"good boy," you coo, finally bringing a finger down to his cock, only to circle his pink, wet tip. and with that, he loses it. his mind goes blank, and he can't help it- all the waiting, the anticipating made him lose control of his body. he really didn't want to cum, he wanted to be good for you, but you were just so hot, he couldn't hold back. so immediately after his white, thick and warm liquid lands partially on his stomach and a bit on your hand, he starts babbling out apologies.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry love, please don't be mad, please- i'll clean up after myself- oh my god i'm so sorry-" he was so obviously tired, he could barely make up the words, yet he still continued apologizing. until you cut him off.

"art, baby- you dont need to apologize to me! what's up with this" you ask, softly. "you know i love making you feel good. and it's even better when i get feedback like this" you giggle. his cheeks turn bright pink as he covers his face.

"but i literally came the second you touched me" he mumbles, shyly.

you kiss his shoulder, smiling. "and it was hot."

"i- I don't know how to explain it to you, love- i just don't want to disappoint you. tashi used to hate it when i did any of this, she hated hearing me, and stuff like that- sometimes it made me feel like i was an object to her or something, y-you know? she'd get mad at me, and uh- it wasn't great."

"oh." you could actually feel your heart breaking for the boy. he was so sweet, he never deserved any of that. "well i'm not tashi, and i definitely won't get mad at you for anything like that. i like hearing you, and believe it or not, this was really fucking hot. you're letting me know i'm making you feel good. what's wrong with that?"

"just don't wanna upset you." art shrugs.

"i promise you artie, you could never upset me." you peck his lips and he smiles. "now let's clean you up"

3K notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 9 days ago

Text

The Wrong Bull - Mark Webber x Interviewer! Reader

Summary: Mark was enjoying a private relationship with his favourite F1 interviewer. Until the internet started shipping you with his biggest rival

Warnings: Malaysia 2013. A lot of fabrication ie made up insta names. Swearing. Suggestive content. Indulgent blurb because who doesn’t like the idea of needy/possessive Mark.

Requested: No

F1 Masterlist

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its_yn just posted

liked by markwebber, f1 and others

its_yn happy malaysia grand prix weekend! i’m very happy to be in the paddock this weekend bringing you the insight on how our eleven teams are doing

6,622 comments

danielricciardo can’t wait to see you. always bring me the most interesting questions

→ its_yn and you always bring me the most random answers

user1 my fave interviewer. i love the way she lovingly bullies the drivers. they’re always so engaging with her

jensonbutton now that’s a handsome man

→ its_yn thank you, i try

→ danielricciardo but i’m the one with random answers?

user2 i’m so happy you’re in the paddock. you have the best rapport with the drivers and always have the best interviews with them

skysportsf1 when all the drivers beg for you to be there, we can’t say no

→ its_yn aw, you guys. i knew you loved me really

→ sebastianvettel of course. the prettiest interviewer we have

→ user3 oh, well then, get in there vettel

→ user4 sebastian making his move

user5 vettel winning on and off the track

user6 no way he bagged the hot sky sports presenter

user7 okay but the way she was smiling at him

→ user8 and the way he looked at her? talk about heart eyes

user9 if they need a third or a dog, i can bark

user10 ngl i thought jenson button was going to win her over

user11 okay, let’s chill a second guys. they just entered the paddock together

→ user12 we might be seeing the beginning of their relationship! how can any of us be calm. used to pray for times like these

→ user13 yes but we don’t want to scare them off before we get confirmation

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Back resting against the wall of Mark's driver room, legs curled beneath you, you flipped through your notebooks. Going through your notes, you occasionally jotted something down, deeming it worthy of potentially mentioning during any interviews later. The sound of the lock turning had your head snapping up in time to see Mark's tall stature fill the doorframe. His eyes landed on you instantly, and he wriggled through the small gap he had created, blocking you from view of whoever was on the other side. A few short sentences later, Mark had managed to provide an adequate excuse to be alone. The door shut with a quiet click and Mark assured you it was locked.

"What are you doing here?" Mark questioned, the soft smile on his face assuring he wasn't opposed to the sight of you in his room. "Shouldn't you be out bothering more important people?"

"More important than you?" You shot back. "I've been put in charge of the post-race interviews today so I've got a bit of a break."

Mark took note of your jacket hanging on the back of his door, and your shoes at the foot of his massage table. His things surrounded by your things. And he was warmed by how comfortable you were here. In an endeavour to find some peace admit the chaos of the paddock, you took refuge in his room. The notion stoked the little fire of possessiveness within him.

"So, you're just going to hide out here until the race?"

Your pile of snacks, the circle of papers around you, and his jumper hanging from your frame told him all he needed to know. He just wanted - no, needed - to hear you say it. Especially after he'd overheard some of the drivers teasing Vettel during the Parade. About you, and the internet's speculations. And how if the German ended up on the podium, then how could the "pretty interviewer" say no to a date. So, regardless of the fact that it was his name and number splashed across your body, he still needed to hear you say it. To confirm that you were his and his alone.

"Until I'm needed, then yes," you smiled, watching as he slowly approached.

The white fireproof clinging to his muscular arms flexed as he placed them on either side of you. His race suit was wrapped around his waist precariously, looking ready to fall apart with a slight tug.

He angled his head down towards you, cheeks dimpling when he grinned. "And if I say you're needed right now?"

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him down to close the small gap he had left between you. "What exactly am I needed for, Mr Webber?"

His eyes darted down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. Before you could register that he'd moved, his mouth was on yours, moving against you and swallowing your surprised squeak. His arms wound themselves around your midsection, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body pressed into you instantly, and you melted into his touch.

Sliding your hands into his hair, you tugged at the short strands so as to pull him off you in order to catch your breath. As he didn't need oxygen more than he needed you, Mark's lips continued moving. His lips moved across your jaw, under your ear and down to the fluttering pulse in your neck, leaving a fiery path as he moved. A whimper was pulled from you when he sucked gently, your back arching into him. Paper crinkled beneath you when he lowered you onto the bed.

"Mark," you moaned, "you don't have time."

"Shh," he whispered against your skin, crawling atop you, trapping you between his body and the massage table. It have a groan of protest but he paid it no mind.

Not when your hands slid under his fireproofs, stroking the heated skin of his abdomen before trailing lower. With one pull, the knot of his race gave way, removing the cushioning that had prevented his hard length from pressing into you. A throaty groan escaped him when you rolled your hips against him.

Mark chuckled at your sudden eagerness. "What happened to not having enough time?"

"You shouldn't be so tempting."

Knowing that you craved him as much as he did you had Mark reconnecting your lips, moving with more fervour. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. His hips jerked against you when you pulled his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking gently. Mark's hands slid down your hips, reaching around to palm your ass and pull you flush against him. The throbbing in his underwear intensified.

Two sharp raps on the door made your eyes snap open, fear flitting across your face when the door handle rattled. Mark pressed closer to you once more; not in lust but worry that someone would see you in the dishevelled state he had created. That was a sight for his eyes only.

Another knock came before a deep voice called out for the driver. "Christian wants to see you for a pre-race chat."

"What, now?"

"Yeah."

Mark groaned before looking down at you. Lipstick smeared, cheeks flushed and blotches darkening on your neck. He wasn't sure he could go outside. The image of you like this would stay with him, making him strain against the fabric of his suit.

"Go, my love," you whispered, tying his suit back around his waist, ensuring the arms carefully concealed the problem you had created. "And try not to collide with your teammate."

Well, the mention of his biggest rival this year was one way to soften him.

"You'll still be here when I get back? Before I jump in the car?" He pleaded.

He knew the answer. Of course he did. The routine had been the same for the past two years but, as before, he needed the verbal reassurance.

"And why would I do that?" You teased, snickering when the 6'1 man in front of you started to pout.

"Because how else would I get my pre-race kiss?"

"You could away ask Vettel."

The look on Mark's face turned from faux sadness to something much darker. You yelped when his teeth sunk into your neck before he pressed a soothing kiss on the mark he'd left (yes, I laughed at that). Shooting you a wink, he dashed out the door, and you were left alone once more.

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user1 seb really turned on the charm with this one

→ user2 he got away with defying team orders, won the race, and decided to win the girl

user3 they would make such a cute couple though

user4 idk how yn managed to keep her calm, interviewer face on because if 3x wdc winner sebastian vettel spoke to me like that, i’d be giggling and twirling my hair fr

user5 okay i wasn’t a fan of the sebastian/yn train earlier but this interview may have convinced me

user6 i love how she’s trying to stay unbiased but you can see that she’s impressed with vettel’s racing today

→ user7 i actually thought she was a bit short with him for a change

→ user8 no i agree. her energy felt off. usually she laughs when they’re flirting

user9 did anyone else see webber watching them in the background?

→ user10 vettel needs to sleep with one eye open

user11 everyone talking about sebyn but i swear she kept looking behind him at mark

→ user12 mark defo smiled at her when they made eye contact

→ user13 bfr, she’s clearly into seb here

f1 just posted

liked by its_yn, redbullracing and others

f1 and it’s a 1-2 for red bull! oh, sorry, was that meant to say 2-1?

9,222 comments

redbullracing that’s our bulls

→ user1 i didn’t realise we celebrated defying team orders

→ user2 oh please. sebastian was faster. mark needs to just accept that

its_yn well done, team red bull

→ user3 it’s okay, sis. you can say well done to the love of your life for winning

→ user4 vettel getting a celebration better than a champagne shower later

user5 f1 is foul for this lmao

→ user6 love how they used the pics where mark looks the most pissed off

sebastianvettel very good race. well done, team

→ user7 he sounds so polite like he’s not a certified track terror

user8 i’m in love with admin today. they knew what they were doing with this caption

jensonbutton has anyone heard from mark since the podium?

→ fernandoalonso he’s yapping my ear off until all the conferences are done

user9 poor mark. he looked ready to throttle seb when they were doing interviews

→ user10 omg was that the one where seb was flirting with yn??

→ user9 yes! webber was stood behind him looking murderous. so hot

user11 not to be one of those but i saw yn comforting mark after the race

→ user12 before or after her flirty interview with seb?

→ user13 not fans trying to push yn and webber based on their 3 interactions when all this seb and yn content is right there

user1 sorry but no one can convince me that she didn’t just have a celebration romp with vettel

→ user2 yes! got to celebrate his win properly haha

→ user3 when he asked if she had plans later knowing she’d end up in his driver’s room

user4 dishevelled clothes, messy hair and her red lipstick from the morning gone? did someone say driver’s room sex

user5 she really does look like she got dicked down good

user6 it’s the fact that almost everyone from the garage has left and she still got caught, bless her

user7 no because imagine angry sex with mark webber after that race

→ user8 oof, i never saw mark that way before but his face on that podium has me feeling some kind of way

→ user9 i love how everyone is thinking of seb and your magnificent brain thought of mark

→ user7 i’m just saying, if i had to pick between the blonde twink or the angry, tall aussie, i know who i’m going with

user10 okay but imagine it was mark’s room she snuck out from. seb stole his win so mark stole his crush

→ user11 revenge, hate sex

user12 did anyone else see the two marks on her neck during the interviews earlier though? i don't think post-race was the first taste miss thing got today

user13 damn, i always thought vettel would be good but he looks like he did a number on her

markwebber just posted

liked by redbullracing, danielricciardo and others

markwebber please can you stop "shipping" her with the wrong bull. she’s mine

7,012 comments

its_yn and has happily been yours for two wonderful years

→ user1 they’ve been together for two years?!

→ user2 excuse me, two years and they kept it from everyone?!

fernandoalonso does this mean i lose elite status as the only one who knows?

→ jensonbutton you knew!

→ lewishamilton of course he knew. although i feel a little blindsided

user3 no because i was fighting in the trenches for mark and yn whilst y’all were pushing the sebyn agenda

user4 who taught him to take the most romantic photos ever

→ markwebber yn did

→ its_yn i trained him good, ladies, so back off

redbullracing members of the garage have asked that you keep any noise in the driver’s room to a minimum. please and thanks

→ user5 so she did get her back blown out after the race by angry mark

→ user6 living my dream

→ its_yn i see you. he’s not for you anymore

jensonbutton genuinely did not see this coming. ngl, i was convinced yn was with seb

→ redbullracing so did we. we got sucked into all the twitter theories. they made a convincing case

→ its_yn @/redbullracing we had to disclose our relationship to you?

→ redbullracing i know. that’s how convincing they were

→ markwebber @/christianhorner how do i file a complaint about admin

user7 the height difference between them 🥰

→ user8 the height difference between them 🥵

danielricciardo well, there go my chances

→ markwebber you’re too young for her, mate

→ danielricciardo yes but clearly she has a thing for aussies

→ its_yn just the one ;)

user9 no wonder he was angry. seb stole his win and then poor mark had to watch him flirt with his girl

→ user10 and watch as the entire internet shipped his girlfriend of two years with that win-stealing man

sebastianvettel oh

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requests are open. i promise your requests are on the way. i'm just slow haha

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

1K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 2 months ago

Text

Enjoy the Butterflies

Daniel Ricciardo x crazy rich!Reader

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

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

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

Or so you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He winces. “Probably did.”

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

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

He blinks. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why me?”

You shrug. “You looked pathetic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirk. “Good to know.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown. “Why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wave it off. “I know.”

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

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

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

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

You sigh. “This is not happening.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

And then you hear it. A scream.

“Who is this man?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s … he’s my boyfriend.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze. “Uh …”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shoot him a look. “How?”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to sink into the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What she pulls out, however, is much worse.

It’s a small, velvet box. A ring box.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think?” You quip, smirking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beat passes. Then another.

And suddenly, you burst into laughter again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe you’re okay with that.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I bought Red Bull Racing.”

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

“You … you what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you say, deadpan. “Max.”

Daniel nearly chokes. “Wait — what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daniel?” You prompt softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daniel Ricciardo — back at Red Bull.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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