Life Lessons || CL16

This was so cute I recommend to 2atch this if you like dad!shawn I really loved it it made me cry it was so cute😭😂♥️

Baby Steps | Expecting

She wasn’t sure she was reading the test right. It can’t say pregnant can it? I mean, it was only one time that they didn’t use a condom. Just that one time. 

“Oh fuck,” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling of their shared master bathroom. 

Currently his side of everything was half empty, since he’s on tour and took it all with him.

That one time was when he flew her out to see him in Vienna and to stay with him for a few shows. Karen and Manny offered to take Adelaide so she could make the trip, to give the couple a chance to see each other and figure some things out since their lives had been so crazy with him gone for so long.

“This can’t be happening.” She murmurs as she stands on shaky legs, setting the third positive test on the counter.

“Mommy!” A soft knocking rings on the door. “Are you okay?” Adelaide calls, and she quickly wipes her tear stained cheeks, swiping all three tests into a drawer and opening the door.

“I’m just fine Bug, just had to go potty, are you ready for dinner?”

Lees verder

She's Not Here- Part 2

This is the second part in this Evan Buckley mini series, thank you all for the amazing feedback on part one. I had so much fun writing this next part and I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: While Evan is on a long weekend at work, (Y/n) takes their girls out with their family. Things don't go to plan when something happens to one of their daughters.

Enjoy.

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"Buck!" He shrugged off Eddie's touch and bolted from the table, checking his pockets for his phone and his wallet. He needed to find his keys from his locker and leave. He had to get down there and get in that shopping centre. Evan needed to scout round every inch of that building. Every corner, every crevace, every hidden crook and cranny, he needed to look round them all. He needed to watch and search every person who tried to leave and every car needed to be stopped and checked. "Buck what's going on?" "One of my daughters is missing."

"Where's my daughter?" Anger, agony and pure, unrivalled chaos burst to life in Evan's voice.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his shoulders hunched up near his neck and his chest puffed out with a deep breath that made him feel like he was about to combust.

He could feel his phone burning a hole in his back pocket. He had been spammed with messages from Bobby, Maddie, both his parents but nothing from (Y/n). All he wanted was for her to tell him that they found Minnie, hidden away in some corner or wandering off with someone from another station in a similar uniform to his.

Evan would settle for being told Minnie had been taken by a stranger but someone had found her and brought her back to safety.

His phone was locked but there was the most recent picture of Minnie that he had, waiting to be shown to any security guard or police officer who needed it. He was ready to show his picture to everyone he passed and demand they find his little girl.

He could see the officer's eyes raking him up and down, assessing whether or not Evan was actually the dad of the missing girl. But the fury in his eyes gave it away and told him if he refused to let Evan inside that shopping centre, they would have a bigger situation out here.

"Name?" His voice held a small waver as he looked up at Evan who was a good few metres taller than him. They had to be certain.

"Evan Buckley. Where's my daughter, have you found her yet?"

"We haven't located her yet… Seargent, I have Mr Buckley on his way in." He waved for Evan to follow him and headed inside the shopping centre entrance.

Evan followed closely behind, his irritation growing with each passing second. How long had his daughter been missing? Was she alright? Was someone with her? Was Minnie wandering this place- or God forbid, the streets, all alone? No. Someone would have seen her wandering alone, they would have stopped her, questioned her, tried to help her or look after her. No one would let her get far on her own.

Someone had to be with her, whether they were a friend or an enemy. Evan didn't like either option.

"Then where's my wife?"

"Right this way."

As they walked down the wide hall, Evan let his eyes dart around him. Shops were still open. People were still fluttering in and out. But out of the shops, in the middle of the centre, people were confined to the sides. They were told to walk in single file and stay close close to the wall. No one could wander or flutter about the middle of the floor. They needed clear views of every angle to find Minnie.

Security were posted near every shop, not letting people in or out if they had a child.

Evan shuddered when he heard an announcement rattle through the speakers that almost deafened him.

"If anyone sees a little girl, Minnie Buckley, three years old. Wearing a purple flower dress, white tights and red shoes with a Disney headband on, they should stop her and alert security immediately."

That gave Evan some sort of hint, at least now he knew what she was wearing. The last time he saw any of his girls had been Friday morning when he kissed Minnie and Evie goodbye and dropped Lois and Ellie at school. He had spoken to them last night to say goodnight when they went to bed, but he hadn't seen them. He didn't know what they were wearing, what hairstyles they had today or what their plans had been for today.

Evan saw his family before the officer got close to them.

He bypassed the shorter man and started into a run, pelting down the hall until every set of eyes were on him and people started to panic that he was the culpret with Minnie.

There they were. His mother, sat with an arm around Maddie, both of them red-eyed and looking down at the table as if it would somehow give them the answers they wanted. The blushing pink pram he recognised was next to his mother and he figured his youngest girl was swaddled away in there. He prayed she was.

When his eyes set on (Y/n), he could feel his heart breaking all over again. He felt his heart impale itself on his ribs, wanting to bleed out and commit his body to the ground then and there.

She was sat with her forehead propped up on her hand, her arm trembling, her upper body hunched over the table. Tears streaked down her face, trembles set in all across her body sending her shoulders rocking back and forth.

"Daddy!" Ellie, who had been sat with her chair pulled as close to (Y/n)'s as she could, ripped out of her mother's arms and bolted from the table. Even as she heard her mum cry out and hear her aunt gasp in panic, she bolted across the polished floor.

As soon as she bolted, Lois looked up, located Evan and subsequently set off into a run for him too.

Evan crouched down and held his arms out, scooping the pair of them up, one in each arm until they were cocooned into his chest. He smothered his lips against Ellie's temple, then kissed Lois's cheek as he stood up to his full height and lifted the girls up. Their arms circled around his neck and held him so tightly he couldn't breathe, but he didn't want to.

Evan didn't want to blink, breathe, move or eat or scream until Minnie was back. He didn't want to carry on dwindling through the minutes, the hours, the days. He wanted everything to stop until his third daughter was here and safe in his arms.

"I'm here. It's okay, it's okay girls, I'm here." He nuzzled his face into Lois's hair and took a second to breathe deeply and hold them as close as he could. He wanted them encased into his chest, hidden behind his ribs with his heart so he could keep them safe.

He started walking forwards, the girls in his arms, until he reached the table they were all sat at.

Security were posted around them, police officers were filtering in and out of the food court and milling about the place, trying to set up a plan to search and locate Minnie. If she was even still in the centre at all. But at least the food court had been evacuated. Only their family was in here with the officers, somewhere they could sit and wait in agony but with some sense of privacy.

Evan carefully eased Lois down into a chair and set Ellie on her feet next to her and he took the time to kiss their foreheads again and whisper that it was okay. Because he would make sure of it. Evan would do anything within his power to make sure everything turned out okay.

Tears burned in the corners of his eyes and his heart started to falter and skip a few beats when he crouched down in front of (Y/n).

He nudged her knees to the side and crouched between her thighs that caged him in and grounded him to her. His hands feathered up and down her thighs until she looked at him.

A single tear jumped free from the end of her nose and Evan could see the tracks slithered down her face from how badly she had been crying.

Why did he go in this weekend?

When Maddie texted, why didn't he just talk to Bobby and try and get today off? Why didn't he try harder to get off work earlier today so he could be here with them? Minnie might not have wandered- or someone might not have taken her, if Evan had been with them.

"She's s-still not here." (Y/n) brushed her sleeve against her nose and beneath her eyes to try and stop her face from feeling so tight and taut.

But when she looked back down at Evan, she could feel another tidal wave washing over her. She reached her arms out and wrapped them around his neck and slid forward until she almost fell off her chair and onto his lap. She felt him push upwards so they were level and he let her head slump onto his shoulder.

His arm circled around her waist and pulled her tightly into his chest while his right hand moved to cup the back of her neck. He smothered his lips against her temple and brushed her hair back behind her ear.

"We're gonna find her, okay? We're gonna go find her and take all our girls home."

(Y/n) brushed her nose against Evan's neck and tried to take a deep breath, but all she could do was wheeze and croak small, shallow gulps of air. Having him here made a difference, though. She could feel her heartbeat thinning out, it wasn't throbbing in her temple or pulsing beneath her skin anymore. She could close her eyes for a few seconds now, instead of look around and try not to blink in case she missed a potential sight of her baby girl.

She could feel Evan's fingers gliding up and down her back and she stayed tucked up into his chest, pressing her face as close to his neck as she could until she could feel his thundering heartbeat.

He kissed the side of her head and spared a glance over at his mum and sister. This wasn't how he wanted to meet with their mum. He hadn't seen her in over six months. The last thing Evan wanted was to meet under horrific, uncertain circumstances like this. And he hated to see Maddie in such a state of distress.

She was usually the epitomy of calm and collected. She stayed calm all those years she was with Doug. She put on a brave face for Evan, trying not to let him see what was going on and how frightened or hurt or uncertain she felt. When Maddie was at work, she remained calm even when the 118 were involved in collisions or dangerous situations. She powered through and helped them.

Not today. Today, his sister was crying, rocking back and forth and about to have a panic attack because where was her niece? Where was that little toddler who brightened up a room and made everyone smile, no matter what mood they were in? How had someone managed to get away with her? How had she slipped away from them in less than three minutes without someone stopping her or seeing or noticing?

How did something like this happen?

"Buck. (Y/n)."

Evan lifted his head and he felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest when he looked across the food court and saw his mother in law. Athena. Just the person they needed in a crisis like this to help them through it and find their little girl.

"Here we go, baby. We'll find her now, hm?" Evan's hands moved to cup (Y/n)'s face and he gently lifted her head from his shoulder so he could look up at her. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, tasting the saltwater tears tracing across his tongue.

His hands moved down to her waist and he helped her up and let her lean into him when he noticed her knees were close to giving way.

"It's nanny Nash." Ellie murmured quietly but when she tried to get up, Evan reached an arm out and gently nudged her to sit down on the same chair as Lois. He shook his head when she started to whine and his stern expression and broken eyes told her not to try and see Athena. Not yet.

"I want you both to stay here where I can see you. Do not move away from this table, at all. You understand?"

Both girls meekly nodded and stayed cuddled together, squished on the green plastic chair opposite their nan and aunt. And Lois turned to her left and leaned to look in the pram, checking her youngest sister was still asleep and okay.

Evan couldn't have either of the girls coming over and talking to Athena, not when she was here on business to find Minnie. And he didn't want them leaving this table. He knew security was gathered around and every exit was watched and under lockdown, but he didn't want them moving. He needed all his girls where he could see them so he didn't have to panic about losing another girl.

His arms curled around (Y/n)'s waist and he pulled her back up against his chest with his lips against the back of her head. They headed over towards Athena and as soon as they were within reach, Athena reached out and gripped (Y/n)'s hand.

She could see the panic and the fear swirling within her step-daughter's eyes and her face was a bundle of emtions too vast and too many to reason with.

"Okay honey, I've been on the phone to your dad, he's on his way down here now. And he's going to do a quick canvas of the streets, just as a precaution. The officers have run me through the timeline and what's happened."

She gave (Y/n)'s hand a tight squeeze and ran her other hand up and down her arm. Athena had been in this situation hundreds of times, consoling parents, calming them down. Telling them everything was going to be okay. She had seen parents reuinited with their children and watched others fall apart when their children were never found or the worst outcome happened.

But a case like this had never been personal. She had never had a missing child be someone in her own family; one of her granddaughters, no less.

"What do we do now? No one's found her and this place is on lockdown, I'll go roam the streets if I need to, what's the plan?" Evan knew his mother in law would have a plan.

She was experienced in these situations and she knew the best course of action, but Evan wasn't a fan of waiting around. And they all knew if Athena tried to tell him not to help or get involved, he would go against her wishes anyway.

He would drive round the streets and look for her, he would scour the whole city if he had to. Someone just needed to point him in the right direction and off he would go, looking for his baby girl.

He needed her back.

"Just, try and stay calm Buck, please. I want you both to come with me to the security office so we can find her on the cameras and track her movements. That will tell us whether she is still in the centre, and if she is with someone. I can't imagine she'd be on her own, not willingly and not after this place has been swarming with security."

Athena wouldn't believe Minnie would willingly wander off alone, she was too young and nervous for that. And after all the announcements, the security rattling round and now the police, if Minnie was on her own they would have found her. She had to be with someone.

Evan nodded and gave (Y/n)'s hips a squeeze. This was good. They could see who they should be looking for and where they needed to check for Minnie. It had been just less than an hour since she went missing, if they were quick they could go and get her. They hoped.

"Seargent Grant?"

Athena let go of (Y/n)'s hand and turned to the side, looking at a younger officer who was trying to wave her towards him.

But (Y/n) saw what he was holding.

She ripped out of Evan's arms, stumbled past Athena and snatched the item before he could hide it from her or try to give it to Athena in secret.

"Baby, baby what is it?"

Evan pushed forward and latched his hands onto (Y/n)'s hips again so he could look over her shoulder. His lungs quaked in his chest and he couldn't breathe. Suddenly stricken at a bundle of thoughts of what it could be. Was it part of Minnie's clothing? Was it her shoe? Was it a randsom note or a picture?

It was Minnie's headband. The one with the mouse ears stitched on and a bright red, glittering bow in the centre. The one Evan had bought for her and had last seen her wearing on Friday morning. This was their way of finding her.

They would of been able to spot her in a crowd wearing these. The security cameras would pinpoint the toddler since she wore these all day. She wore them almost every day. Since Evan put them on her head Friday morning, she only took them off to get a bath and go to sleep.

She would scream if someone tried to take them off her or knocked them off. Minnie wouldn't leave them behind or go anywhere without them.

"Evan, s-she wouldn't take them off… Oh God,"

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Her eyes zoned in with tunnel vision until the glittering, blood red bow was all she could see, think and imagine.

Her baby was lost somewhere, without these. That made her so much harder to spot in a crowd. She would be crying that she had lost them. She would be crying for her parents, her sisters, her aunt, her family. Something bad had happened to her and they weren't any closer to finding her.

(Y/n) held the headband so tightly the plastic started to cut into the palm of her hand. She didn't realise her knees had caved in until Evan's arms bound tight around her middle and he wrenched her into his chest before she went down to the floor.

She deadlocked the headband to her chest, binding her arms around it until the band was almost imbedded into her skin. Her head flopped forward as she began to sob but she felt like her heart was being torn out when she felt Evan's lips against the side of her head and realised he was crying too.

"She… I…"

"Where did you find them?" Evan's eyes were full of malice when they darted over to the officer stood behind Athena.

He pulled (Y/n) closer and tried to stand up, holding her tighter when her legs continued to shake and wobble. He could feel her shoulders shaking, her wheezing, croaky breaths. And when she turned her head and pressed her face into his neck, he wanted to scream. His wife shouldn't be in this state of distress, his daughter shouldn't be missing, his other girls shouldn't be frightened and traumatised.

"Where the fuck did you get them? They belong to our daughter! Where were they?!" Evan's voice rose until he was almost shouting and he could feel his voice travelling around the walls and bouncing off the glass ceiling.

Suddenly it didn't matter if the girls heard him or if he panicked the rest of his family. All Evan cared about was finding Minnie. They had to know where her headband was found.

"On the search, just outside the East exit." He pointed to their right but he shrunk back when (Y/n) all but screamed and Athena pushed him away.

"She's gone- Evan…"

Evan turned (Y/n) around in his arms, keeping his right arm around her waist while his other hand cradled the back of her head. His fingers knotted in her hair and he smothered his wet lips against her burning temple. Tears burned his face like acid rain and he started to sway them from side to side, quietly humming and shushing her.

"No, no baby she's not gone. We're gonna find her…" His eyes lifted to lock with Athena. "Bobby's not here yet, tell him to circle around."

"I will, now we need to go and check those security cameras. She clearly isn't alone which is what we want if she's out in the streets. Let's find out which direction she's gone, when they left, and who we need to be looking for."

He curled his hand and wove his fingers into (Y/n)'s hair, gently tilting her head back from his neck so he could look down at her. He brushed his fingers delicately over the side of her face and swiped his thumb across her lower lip.

"I'm gonna get Maddie and mum to take the girls home, they're scared. That way we can stay here and find Minnie, okay?"

He didn't want the girls to have to hang around in this bad situation. They didn't need to see their parents getting distressed and panicked like this. And they didn't need to watch them flutter about this place along with the police and security, trying to find Minnie. It would be easier for them and safer if they went home and tried to calm down and get settled.

That way, (Y/n), Evan and Athena could all focus their attention on Minnie without having to worry about checking on Lois and Ellie or settling Evie for a nap or calming her down.

And a miniscule piece of Evan's heart knew he needed the girls to be away from here in case they got bad news. If they found Minnie and it wasn't good. If they watched someone snatch her on the security tapes. If they couldn't get her back.

The girls couldn't witness that.

Evan could see all the bad thoughts running round in (Y/n)'s mind through her frantic eyes that couldn't stay focused on anything. She clutched the headband like it was her lifeline. When she nodded, Evan unravelled his arms from her and left her leaning into Athena so he could go back to the table all the girls in his family were sat at.

His hands found Maddie's shoulders and he leaned over the back of her chair, hovering his lips over her ear so the girls wouldn't hear.

"They found her headband outside… someone's got her. Can you take the girls home for me, if we stay and check security tapes?"

The hairs on the back of Maddie's neck started to prickle and stand on end and a fresh wave of goosebumps rose over her skin. She could feel her blood turning cold and disappearing down to her toes that were tingling and going numb in her shoes. They found her headband. She had managed to get outside before every exit of the shopping centre had been closed. They tried to lock her in but she got out somehow. Someone took her away.

She couldn't find her voice, so she settled on nodding. Her lips pressed into a thin line to stop a frown and she swallowed down her tears, she didn't want to worry the girls anymore than this.

Evan kissed her temple and moved to crouch down beside the table, resting between the chair the girls were sat on and Maddie who was sat on his right. He leaned his right arm on the table and moved his left hand to hold Lois's trembling hand in his palm.

"I want you all to go home with aunt Maddie and gran, you don't need to be here. But me and mum need to stay and get Minnie, so you need to be good for me, okay?"

Evan rolled his lips into a thin line when Lois wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to his chest, crying out in agony. It was almost as if he'd told her he was leaving for weeks instead of hours. But then again, Evan didn't know when he or (Y/n) would be able to go back home. If they didn't find Minnie soon, would he really be okay going home without her?

He would end up roaming the streets with Bobby, sending (Y/n) home to wait with the girls. Evan couldn't go home if one of his babies was missing, he wouldn't rest or sit down without her.

"Are you sure?" Maddie rested her hand on her brother's shoulder and leaned over to kiss his temple. She knew it was the right thing to do, but her heart didn't want to leave him and (Y/n) here. She wanted to stay and help search, but she knew none of the girls would settle with Margaret or Phillip. They needed her.

"Daddy, we don't wanna go without you. Can't we stay-"

"No baby girl, you can't stay with me I'm sorry. You need to go home, Maddie's gonna look after you, you'll be safe I swear." He kissed the top of her head repeatedly and moved to do the same with Ellie. "If you need us or you just wanna talk, you just call me, okay? We'll see you soon."

It took all the strength Evan had within him to pull away from his girls and take a step back so they couldn't cling to him. Their eyes stared up at him, full of pain, fear and unshed tears that were now tracing down their cheeks.

"Call me when you get them home." He looked between his mum and sister until they both nodded. He had to know when they were home or else Evan's mind would be split between panicking about Minnie and the rest of his girls. He needed them to be safe so his focus could be on Minnie.

Moving round behind the seats, Evan leaned over the pram and kissed Evie's temple. She was taking another power nap and Evan was glad. The last thing they wanted was the toddler crying and panicking too, if she could remain calm and settled then that would be a blessing for everyone.

When he approached (Y/n), his hands found her shoulders and his lips found the back of her head. When he nodded, Athena took the lead and led them towards the lift.

They had security tapes to check.

(Y/n) couldn't keep her eyes in focus. It didn't matter how hard she tried or how she scolded herself.

Minnie needs you! Look at the screen! Find your daughter in that sea of people.

All her eyes wanted to do was go down to stare at the headband tightly crumpled up against her chest. She was holding it so tightly the plastic was starting to cut through her shirt and imbed into her sternum like she wanted to tuck it into her ribcage and keep it safe with her heart. Keep it safe for Minnie.

Her forehead pressed up against Evan's razor cut jaw and she could feel herself focusing on how his fingers were feathering up and down her hip, trying to calm her down. It was doing the trick, but it was also distracting her. She was supposed to be looking through the tapes to find Minnie, but she couldn't.

She didn't want to, in fear of what she was going to find. Who would be walking away with her daughter? Why would they be taking her away?

Had they just taken her hand and walked her out of here? Had they picked her up? Did they smother her cries or pretend she was a child having a tantrum? Did Minnie go willingly or did she put up a fight and cry out for her mum who was nowhere to be found?

All the questions sent (Y/n)'s body into spasms and trembles. And when Athena pointed out the tape that showed their group going into the clothing store, (Y/n) turned away.

She didn't want to see herself letting Minnie run off. She didn't want to see her family turn their backs for one second and have Minnie snatched away from them.

She could feel Evan leaning over her left shoulder to scrutinise the tape, watching all the girls of his family split apart and wander around in pairs.

"Slow down that tape, she went missing around that time upstairs." Athena pointed to a screen on the left. At least four other officers were crowded into the room. They were going to go through each security camera in the area, one by one, tracking Minnie's movements.

"Minnie."

Evan tilted his head to the right and kissed (Y/n)'s temple, unable to bring his eyes away from the screen Athena was looking at. There was their girl, just about to dart away from his mother when she had her back turned.

"Stop!"

Evan's eyes managed to tear from the screen and look down at (Y/n) when she jolted forward. She was looking at a different screen. One of the ones on the right in the bottom corner. Her hands lunged out and patted the screen, drawing a circle with the pad of her finger around Minnie.

The security officer sat just in front of Evan was quick to pause the tape, and all eyes went to that screen.

There she was. Hidden in plain sight. Her hair, thin as the first layer of snow and straight as a ruler until it crimped at the very ends that touched her shoulders. Her hand, gripped tightly by a young woman, not too much older than (Y/n) herself.

Minnie was leaning backwards like she was trying to pull away or wanted to turn around and run back to her family. Tears were streaked down her face and her lips were parted like she was in the middle or about to burst into a sob.

They were stood in front of an exit that led out onto the street. And right there, as the frame was paused in motion, Minnie's headband was halfway down the back of her head, about to drop onto the floor.

That exit led out onto the street. It didn't lead into the multistory carpark that belonged to the shopping centre. Maybe they were walking on foot. That would slow them down; she couldn't take Minnie far on foot. She couldn't have gotten far in the hour that Minnie had been missing, if they didn't get straight into a car, that meant there was a better chance of getting her back.

"Play it slowly, frame by frame."

She dragged her out. The woman dragged Minnie out the door like she was a child having a tantrum who she was taking back home.

No one stopped her.

How could they? If (Y/n) had been passing by, she wouldn't have the courage or the nerve to stop another woman and her child. It wasn't normal to stop women when their children were having a tantrum. Even if Minnie had been screaming that she wanted her mummy or her aunt or even her sister. People passing by would presume the woman was Minnie's guardian, her aunt or her babysitter or someone familiar rather than a stranger dragging her away.

"Where's the nearest camera after that one?"

The guard pointed at the same screen but switched the video feed to the camera posted outside the exit.

The woman swooped down, hoisted Minnie up onto her hip, and walked down the street as if nothing was wrong.

"I want all cameras down that street, any shops, any traffic cameras. Centred around half past two, find out where she went after that street. This is good, we have a suspect and a direction and they're on foot, that gives us an advantage." Athena gave (Y/n)'s hand a reassuring squeeze, but (Y/n) didn't feel so relieved.

It didn't matter that it was a woman who had taken Minnie. There were thousands of derranged, twisted women in the world. That woman could have taken Minnie because she wanted a child, it could be innocent. She could have lost a child and wanted a replacement, or thought she was looking after Minnie or saving her from something.

Or she could have chosen Minnie because she wanted to hurt her. She could be doing anything to her by now.

(Y/n) wanted her baby back this very second.

"Baby- baby wait!" A growl tore from the back of Evan's throat as he set of into a sprint when (Y/n) bolted.

She flung the door open and flew out the room with her bag bashing against her waist and Minnie's headband still clutched to her chest. She was getting her back. They were going to open the shopping centre again and let people leave now they knew for certain that Minnie wasn't in here. (Y/n) was going to leave the exact same way that woman had and try to find her. She didn't know how and she didn't care, she just wanted to find her.

Evan's hands curled into fists at his sides and he could feel Athena hot on his heels as they darted out of the room and down the corridor to the left.

His heart jumped into his throat when he watched (Y/n)'s foot slip on the top step and he cringed, biting down on his tongue at the thought of her falling down. But she regained her balance and stumbled down the stairs two at a time, flinging herself around the corner to propell down the second flight and get down to the ground floor.

All the air got caught at the back of (Y/n)'s throat when she stumbled onto the ground floor and felt a hand curl around her upper arm. She tripped, sliding back on her heel until her shoulders crashed into a tense, hard chest and a familiar set of strong arms bound around her waist.

"Baby," Evan rasped into her hair, his voice deep and guttural as he breathed harshly against the top of her head. "Take a breath. We don't know which way she went after that road, and that was nearly an hour ago."

When (Y/n) tried to break out of his arms, Evan tightened them around her and pulled her back. He moulded his chest over her back and leaned forward, smothering his face against her neck. But he lifted his eyes to look across when Athena stood in front of them.

"We have people checking cameras, honey. Let's wait and see what they find and where she went-"

"I can't- I can't wait here," (Y/n) tilted her head back onto Evan's shoulder and looked up at him with those big, pleading eyes that made his stomach flip and sent his heart reeling. He would do anything she asked when she looked at him like that and they both knew it. "Evan… we need to look for her, she was crying."

Biting down on his lower lip, Evan looked from his wife to his mother in law. "Could we do a drive round? If Minnie lost her headband, maybe, fuck… maybe she lost a shoe or something? We can at least look, can't we?"

It was possible.

Minnie wasn't old enough to know about leaving items behind like a trail of breadcrumbs for people to find her. But if she was struggling, what's to say that she didn't lose a shoe? Or they could still be wandering the streets, trying to get away from the police that would be scattered round looking for them.

A drive round couldn't hurt, it would keep them busy and out of trouble and occupy their minds. (Y/n) and Evan couldn't wait around here doing nothing and they couldn't sit at the police station either and wait for news. It would drive them both insane.

"Okay. But I'll drive you."

***

Leaning to the left, (Y/n) slumped her head on Evan's shoulder. She felt unbelievably tired. Her eyes were aching and yearning to get some rest, her stomach felt heavy and her heart had turned to a stone, thudding and bashing against her ribs until her chest was going to collapse.

But she couldn't close her eyes. What if she missed something? What if when she closed her eyes, they passed by Minnie or something that belonged to her, or a clue?

They had been driving for almost half an hour now, and (Y/n) was losing momentum and the will to be in the car. It wasn't as bad as waiting at the station, but being confined in here, not able to do anything to or for Minnie, was just as bad.

Every now and then, Athena was getting updates from the security cameras and from tips people were calling in to the station.

People had seen a woman carrying a crying toddler. Someone had said they saw a woman in a corner shop whose child was crying for their mummy and that only made (Y/n) breakdown all over again.

Athena had driven down the route they knew for certain the woman and Minnie had walked when they left the shopping centre. But now they were driving around slowly, cruising the streets for clues, to pass the time, to wait until someone called in with another sighting.

And Bobby was driving round too. He had been driving for over an hour, going in circles, passing the same streets, going past the shopping centre at least ten times. Waiting for a sighting of his little granddaughter.

*Any news??? XX

Evan looked down at his phone but his eyes were glossy and cracked like marbles and his face was void of any expression. He had no update to give his sister. His mum. His daughters. Nothing of interest, nothing that would give them any sense of hope.

*Nothing yet. Driving round to find her, a woman carried her out the shopping centre. XX

"Why take her?"

Looking down, Evan pursed his lips and looped his right arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders. He let her head slump off his shoulder and down onto his chest and he smothered his lips into her hair when she bound her arms around his torso. She finally let go of the headband, but only to place it delicately on Evan's knee.

The band weighed down on Evan like a ton of bricks had crushed down on his leg. He could feel it burning, melting into his skin and it made his lungs ache like he had breathed in poisonus gas.

"She wasn't in danger, she wasn't wandering… or lost, and I, I'm not a bad mum-"

"I don't know why, baby. But we're getting her back safe." Evan couldn't go down that road. Not yet.

He couldn't bear to imagine what had gone through that woman's mind to make her snatch his daughter like this.

Minnie hadn't been in danger or wandering alone without her family, she had been less than twenty feet from her grandma when that woman took her. She wasn't in danger of being run over or hurt or snatched by anyone else. Minnie wasn't an unloved child, lost and forgotten or abused by her family. And (Y/n) wasn't a neglectful mother.

There was no tangible reason to take Minnie, no explanation or reasoning that could explain what this woman had done to them today.

When her phone began to ring, Athena swiped across and put it on speaker. "Bobby, whereabouts are you, love?" He had been calling every now and then to say where he had checked and whereabouts he was going next so they didn't go down the same streets together, they needed to canvas a wider area.

"Down fifty-seventh street… I've spotted her."

"Where is she? Is she okay?!" (Y/n) surged forward and latched her hands around the passenger seat in front of her while she felt Evan's hand slide down to her lower back. He sat up straighter, more alert beside her as they all waited for Bobby to respond.

Athena turned on her siren and lights and started to speed up. They were only two minutes away from that street.

"I swear it was her, with a young woman. They got into a taxi but he won't pull over so I'm following him. If you head up the top end of the street you can cut them off."

Bobby wasn't an officer, he wasn't in a police car or the fire station truck of the ambulance. Flashing his headlights was only annoying and probably panicking the taxi driver in front of him. And Bobby couldn't overtake and cut them off with oncoming traffic and the taxi speeding up to get away from him.

He knew it was Minnie. He watched a woman bundle a crying toddler into the back of the taxi and he just knew. He wasn't quick enough to stop them before the car drove off, so he did the next best thing and sped after them.

"We're on our way. This is 7-2-7-L-30, in pursuit we have a sighting of Minnie Buckley in a taxi on fifty-seventh street, back up required."

Athena could see and hear Evan tapping his knuckles against the window out of anxious habit. His hand was curled into a tight fist and if he applied pressure, he might just break the window.

"You both need to stay in the car until I can make sure it's Minnie and get her out safely. Do you understand me?"

With a deep breath, (Y/n) looked up at Evan and she knew. She just knew by that look in his eyes. She didn't want to wait in here and he wasn't going to sit back and wait. The moment Athena stopped the car, Evan would bolt. He would go and get their daughter back because this had been a day from Hell and he couldn't have anything happen to her. He couldn't have his daughter hurt or scarred for life by this. He had to have her back in his arms.

The couple braced themselves on the front seats when Athena swerved to the left and blocked off the end of the street. She put the door locks on and climbed out the car, effectively locking her children in the back of the car so they couldn't cause a scene.

"Evan-"

"She's not locking me in here. I'll go get her, baby."

(Y/n) leaned to the right and deadlocked her arms around her chest when Evan pushed forward. He swung his long legs between the front seats, thankful Athena didn't have a barrier in between the back and front of this car. He clambered roughly into the drivers seat and stumbled out into the street. He wasn't waiting, not when his daughter needed him.

"LAPD, turn off the engine and step out of the car." Athena held her gun low at her thigh and tapped her free hand on the driver's window. She could see Bobby's car parked across the road to block the taxi in so there was no escape. Though they both doubted the taxi driver was in on this or would help a kidnapper escape.

When the driver complied and slowly stepped out of the car, Athena pointed to the pavement. "Stand over here please."

Evan held his breath deep in his lungs and walked at a distance from Athena, whose back was turned to him. He didn't want to get her into trouble but he didn't want her to stop him either. He just wanted his baby girl.

His eyes darted to the right and for a split second, he watched Bobby get out of his car. But then Evan's eyes went to the back door of the taxi.

A woman climbed out.

A young woman, younger than Evan, at least. She had shoulder-length black hair and a fringe that almost reached her eyes that were rabid like a wild animal caught in a snare. But when she reached down and grabbed the hand of a little girl who scurried out the taxi, Evan saw red.

A purple dress with flowers. Plain white tights that were now ripped and black around the knees. Red shoes that were lathered in mud and about to drop off her little feet. That pencil-straight hair that was so thin if it had been blonde, she would of looked bald.

Those big doe eyes made Evan see red. His baby girl. That was his daughter, and she was trying to take her away from him.

The woman began to run. She hurried as fast as she could to the pavement, dragging Minnie with her who kept falling and scuffing along the road, unable to keep up and she clearly didn't want to either. She wanted to stop, she wanted to go home. She was lost, on a street she didn't know with a strange woman and she was hurt. She wanted to go home.

A blood-curdling cry left Minnie's lips as she moved her free hand to her mouth and began to sob. Her eyes scrunched up tight as tears stained her face and her feet bent and scuffed along the pavement.

Why was she being dragged around? Where was her mummy? Why had this lady taken her away from the shops? Why did none of her family follow or meet them outside like the woman said they would?

"Minnie!"

"Buck don't you dare!"

Evan broke out into a sprint, ignoring Athena's warning and moving faster when he saw Bobby aiming for him or Minnie, he couldn't be sure. But he wanted to get to her first. It was like a race, a competition, and Evan needed to win. He had to.

When Minnie stumbled, she flopped onto her already bruised and bloodied knees that had cut open when she fell just outside the shopping centre. Her hands scraped the floor and she let out a belting scream, curling up on herself in case the woman grabbed at her again.

Lunging forward, Evan crossed onto the pavement just as the woman either went to grab Minnie by the arm or the hair, he couldn't be sure. She looked panicked and frightened enough to grab her by her hair and haul her up if it would get them away from here any quicker.

"Touch my daughter again and I'll break your arm!" He caught her wrist mid-air, a split second before she could reach his little girl.

He could feel his boots touching Minnie's side, he was standing that close to her and his towering frame cast her in a protective shadow. But his eyes, oh his eyes seared holes right through the woman stood in front of him. His fingers clenched around her wrist until she was whimpering and shaking and he knew he was going to bruise her skin. If he clenched just a little more, he might even break a tendon or a bone.

He was desperate to. Evan wanted to crush her wrist into dust. He wanted to throw her down to the floor and scream at her. He wanted her to see the agony she had put all his girls through today.

To see what she had done to Evan's wife, how she had traumatised all his children and how petrified she had made Minnie by doing all of this.

When Evan let go of her wrist, an overwhelming wave of protection flooded through him like a tsunami. And before the woman could move an inch, Evan doubled over and grabbed his daughter.

He scooped Minnie up as she screamed, uncertain who it was that now had hold of her. But the moment she was nestled into that comforting chest and smelled that mixture of cologne and smoke, she simmered down into quiet cries and whimpers. Her arms bound around Evan's neck and she nuzzled her face into his skin as he peppered her temple and cheeks with kisses.

"Oh baby… it's okay, you're safe now. Me and mummy are here, we've got you little mouse."

Evan bounced her up and down against his chest, quietly shushing against her temple as he turned his back to the taxi and the woman who was now being detained by Athena.

"Mummy?"

"Yeah, mummy's here too baby, and nan and pops. We've been looking all over for you." He moved his hand up to cradle the back of her head and tangled his fingers through her thin hair. He didn't get two steps towards the police car before (Y/n) was clambering out of the open driver's side door and pelting across the road towards them.

"Mummy," Minnie sniffed and went off into another round of crying as Evan carefully lowered her down into (Y/n)'s arms.

As soon as Minnie was in her arms, (Y/n) closed her eyes and went down on her knees. Evan thought for a moment that she had collapsed or even fainted with relief, but she hadn't. She didn't have the strength to hold herself up any longer.

She tucked her face into Minnie's neck and started to rock back and forth, cuddling her close as if this was the last time she was ever going to see her.

A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine when she felt Evan kneeling behind her. His knees pressed up into her leg and his chest curved around her, pulling her back into his chest so he could wind his arms around both her and Minnie.

"Are you okay baby, are you hurt?" (Y/n) brushed her sleeve beneath her eyes to clear her vision before she gently stood Minnie up in front of her and Evan so they could look at her properly.

She stuffed her thumb into her mouth and sniffed, letting them both reach out for her and check her for any injuries. When (Y/n) gently took both her hands and looked at them, she began to whimper. There were grazes along her palms, nothing major or deep but for a toddler, it would sting and distress her.

Evan carefully reached out for her left leg when he noticed she was leaning her weight on her right foot rather than balancing between the two. He didn't want to take her shoes off here and now in the street to assess her, but he figured it was either her foot or her ankle that was causing her pain when she flinched away from his touch.

And the cuts on her knees were clear as day. Her previously bleached white tights had large holes ripped through them with loose threads hanging loose around the sides. Blood was soaked into the fabric of her left knee which was cut open and her right knee wasn't much better, grazed and scuffed, lightly bleeding.

"Oh, little mouse."

Minnie whimpered again and pushed forward until she could flop against Evan's chest and shimmy until he lifted her up off her aching feet.

He held her as close and as tightly as he dared without smothering her, looped his left arm around (Y/n), and slowly rose to his feet. He kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head when she bound her arms around his torso and tucked herself beneath his arm.

She was okay. They had her back. Athena was arresting the woman and she would find out why she had decided to take Minnie and what she thought she was going to do with her. Bobby was beckoning them over to him as he leaned up against the bonnet of his car, arms folded tightly over his chest. But the relief was evident on his face.

"Come on, let's get you home."

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.

make me feel (h.o.)

masterlist | ko-fi?

pairing: pornstar!harrison osterfield x pornstar!reader

summary: Harrison and Y/N has undeniable chemistry onscreen and off. The question is, how long will they deny such connection and convince everyone that they're just friends?

word count: 4,558

warnings: pornstar!au, friends to lovers, language, drinking, banter, mention of douching & anal, smut! [pegging, praise kink, cross-dressing, dirty talk, slight daddy kink, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (f)]

song inspo: Janelle Monae - Make Me Feel, Damon Daunno & Rebecca Naomi Jones - People Will Say We're In Love, Tom Waits - Midnight Lullaby, James Vincent McMorrow - One Thousand Times, Taylor Swift - False God

notes: finally coming out of my writer's block with this one woohoo! i've been working on this since may, like that's insane??? im pretty happy with how it turns out lol. big thanks to @shipping-not-sailing and @tommysparker who put up with my bullshit brainstorm, and shoutout to @marvelouspeterparker for making a CRAZY pornstar!au fic with tom that inspired me to do this one. happy reading!

***

Y/N has said it before and she would gladly say it again.

Harrison Osterfield is one hell of a fucking sight to behold.

Writhing underneath her as she rocks her hips against his, his statuesque features come to life —cherry red lips hanging open, making way for moans of pleasure to escape him. The veins on his neck, popping out from underneath his black collar necklace. His fingers around her wrists, statement rings against her bare hands.

His eyes, more blue than green today, peering back and forth; to the sleek black strap-on sliding in and out of him, and to the person it’s attached to.

Y/N, in all her glory, wrapped in a lacy bra and a harness around her hips.

“Baby…” She cups his face with one hand. "S'that feel good?"

He catches her eyes and nods, his sparkling galaxy fingernails digging into her hips, wordlessly beckoning her to come closer. Deeper.

Faster.

But instead, she slows down. She pulls nearly all the way back, leaving only the tip of the strap-on inside him. "Use your words."

Harrison lets out a whimper, rose gold and dark bronze eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay open. Peering at her through his mascara-laden lashes.

"God, you're so pretty…" Y/N beams, for a moment simply admiring the view underneath her. Head empty, except for the thought she said out loud. And soon her body moves on its own accord, lips closing in on his. Hips thrusting in and out of him. Enrapturing him in all of her.

For a moment, alone together.

“CUT!” Elena, the director, calls out, and the whole set comes to life. Camera and boom operators stretching their arms and artistic team adjusting the set and people generally crossing over.

"That was beautiful, darlings. Let's move onto the next shot and— I really liked when you just gaze at each other for a bit there," Elena compliments as she walks over. Then, turning towards her director of photography, she says, "Can we keep that for the next shot?"

The two stars of the show blend into the busy set just as quickly as they become the center of its attention. It’s a nice little break among the adjustments of the lighting and camera and everything.

"Hold up, I need to stretch my legs a bit," Y/N sets off to straighten up.

Harrison's hand flies up to her hip almost immediately. "Slowly, slowly, slowly—" his quiet warning is cut off with a sigh as she unsheathes the strap-on from him, as gentle as she can be.

She settles opposite him, both casual and comfortable in their state of undress, drawing soothing circles on his lace stocking-clad ankle next to her.

“So I finally tried marinating my steak with pineapple like you said!” he pipes up, “It’s game-changing, Y/N.”

“I know, right? You’re welcome, by the way.” she flashes a cocky grin his way. “How long did you marinate it?”

“The whole day. Did it first thing in the morning, and then seared it for dinner.”

“Nice!”

“It's so tender and rich and God, I’m starving.” he muses, tucking an arm behind his head.

“You wanna grab a bite after this?”

“Fuck yes!” he reaches her calf, moaning almost as obscenely as he does during his scene.

It makes her laugh. “We can try that restaurant near—”

“Alright, everyone! Next shot. Harrison, Y/N, can we go back to your marks, please?” Elena turns to them, patting the latter’s shoulder on her way back to the monitor.

“Yeah— can we have some more lube, though?” Y/N motions at the production assistant, who promptly hands her a bottle.

It’s a strange lull, watching someone putting on a generous amount of lube for him while another person hovers around for that bottle, but Harrison simply smiles unabashedly at that girl. “Aw, you didn’t have to.”

“But I want to,” she simply shrugs, handing the bottle back to the unassuming PA, who scurries back as quickly as she arrives. Then, Y/N returns to her initial position on top of him and says, jokingly, “Gotta treat my princess right, don’t I?”

But in that exact moment, she feels his cock flexing in excitement. He looks up to find his gaze darken at the pet name. “Fuck’s sake, Y/N…” he turns away to his the blush in his cheeks.

“You got a fine taste, Harrison.” she nods in approval, pleasantly surprised at this revelation, her signature smile taking over her entire beautiful face once more. “Ready?”

The hustle and bustle quiets down and with it, time slows down, too. The call of camera rolling and slate clapping takes her mind into a different headspace. Her body relaxes, readies itself. For the scene. For the sex.

“ACTION!”

He takes her in with an arch of his back, savoring every inch. Gosh, he’s so tight, she swears she could feel him gripping from inside her.

It’s a performance, yes, but it’s also awfully intimate. Like drawing the curtains on the deepest part of herself. And Harrison gives as much of himself as she does hers; she likes that about him. Always equally as vulnerable. Familiarly so.

He is, arguably, the best scene partner she’s ever had.

Even when the novelty has worn off, and the sensation starts to dull out of exertion, there’s still that sizzling connection between them that makes them so fun to watch. It’s not always in the motion of their hips (although it is one of the things driving him crazy at this instant.) Sometimes it’s in the glide of her thumb over his lips, or the way he chases her kisses and traces his mouth anywhere he can, ever so tenderly. A breath of fresh air in the midst of the heat.

Right now, her hand is closed in on Harrison's cock, stroking and pounding into him as he ruts back against her. Among the haze, he opens his eyes to gaze at her, pleading,

"Please, I wanna cum… Daddy..." he whimpers. His eyebrows knot in anticipation —and maybe nerves, since he's going off-script with yet another kink.

But Y/N smiles, her quickening pace a stark contrast to her soothing whispers. "Let go, baby. I got you. Daddy’s got you…"

He sprays his hot mess all over his heaving chest with a breathless moan, his ass gripping her strap-on like a vice. She takes her time lapping up his cum and making her way to his lips with soft kisses, making him giggle hazily.

He finds her lips, indulging in his own taste and how her tongue makes it sweeter. For the longest time, they just stay there; hands in each other's hair, catching their breath in kisses after kisses after kisses… until they part and fall back to the soft surface of the bed, blissfully sated.

"And cut,” Elena says softly, definitively. "That's a wrap for the day, people! Wonderful job!"

It's only then that she remembers the presence of twelve other people in the room with them, applauding and cheering for a job well done. Harrison sits up first, bashfully bowing before lightly elbowing her. Y/N nods graciously at everyone else and applauds right back at them.

The PA scurries back around, this time with some wet wipes and bath robes, and the two of them go on about their own business, cleaning up and going back to their respective dressing rooms, exchanging congratulatory pats on the back with the crew on their way.

Y/N is chatting with Elena when Harrison pops up at her open dressing room door. "Hey. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." she flashes a brief smile her director's way, and then looks back at him. "We're still up for some food, right?"

"'Course! I'm dying for some proper food," he groans dramatically, sauntering in. "Anyway. I'll see you outside and I'll see you tomorrow, Boss."

"Ciao, bello." Elena gives him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, seeing him out of the room. As soon as he's out of earshot, she turns back to her actress. "You two are so cute."

"We're friends," Y/N rolls her eyes, here we go again. It’s quite surprising how, in an industry where friendships among fellow sex workers are so normalized, they’re not exempt to the light teasing. "Really, really good friends."

"Right..." she replies dubiously.

Y/N absently applies her lip gloss, a ghost of a curious smile creeping up on her face. "What?"

Elena rolls her eyes in relent. "I mean, you know me. I don't do those male gaze-y Gonzo porn. I'm all about sensuality and connection and… I'm just saying," she shrugs, "the chemistry doesn't lie."

"Well," Y/N stands up to bid her farewell, "If it gets you to keep working with us, then we'll keep that chemistry alive, how 'bout that?"

"Such a charmer," Elena shakes her head, laughing. "Go. Your good friend is waiting for you."

She can say that it’s all in day’s work until she foams at the mouth, but all signs point the other direction. The bleak grey London scenery is nowhere to be seen; instead, the golden Roman sunset barely peeks over the rows and rows of centuries-old buildings. And leaning against the lamppost, her so-called good friend is casually checking his phone.

He looks up at her and his handsome features light up, gesturing at his watch as he hurries her. “Hey, come on! Mamma mia, spaghetti carbonara! Vamonos.”

"That’s Spanish and… you’re on your own, pal," she deadpans, turning to walk the other way.

He catches her arm, of course. "Oh no, I’m not. You're not gonna leave me to eat alone like a sad English bastard, are you?"

"But you are a sad English bastard, my darling.”

"Mean." he pouts, and he knows how powerful his puppy dog eyes can be. "Besides, I had a gummy bear diet for a whole 24 hours for you. Shoot water up my ass clean for you! The least you can do is wine and dine me, Y/N."

She bursts out laughing —partly at his dramatic recount of his 'sacrifices', and partly at the idea that this is more than what it is. Two very good friends, who do not shy away from gross conversations, letting off steam after work.

Nothing more.

***

“God, that hit the spot…” Y/N sighs as she takes a bite of her tiramisu, following a hearty spaghetti carbonara as their main course (Harrison was not kidding when he uttered that word so passionately earlier.)

Harrison looks up from his now-empty glass of wine with a cheeky smile. “That’s what she said!”

“Having fun, are we?” She teases him good-naturedly.

“I mean, I could definitely get used to this,” he gestures all around him, “We’re doing something cool and artsy for a change, we’re in Rome…”

“Bumming my dessert…” she stiffly points out as she swats his hand away, although he’s already taken a generous amount of her cake in his spoon.

“Exactly! The desserts here are amazing and I just—” he purposely ignores her and puts the stolen spoonful into his mouth. “What a life, you know?”

She glares at him, although the smile she bites back says otherwise. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m buying you dinner.” she finishes her dessert before he beats her to the final bite.

But she gets what he means; it was a truly good day at work, where they got to play dressup and do something experimental and incredibly sensual with a female-led crew. And to do that with one’s most trusted scene partner is… wonderful.

“Would you and your beautiful wife like some more wine, Signore?” their waiter, a friendly middle-aged man, offers.

The pair exchange looks —a pause, and then they burst into laughter.

“No, no, no. We’re not—” Y/N chortles, too caught up to continue.

The waiter looks at her in confusion. “No to the wine or the… wife thing, Signora?”

“Oh, we’re not together, sir.” Harrison clears his throat and smiles politely, “As for the wine… what do you think, love?”

“I think we’re good. Early day at work tomorrow, remember?” she eyes him pointedly. Then, she looks to the waiter, “Can we have the check, please? Thank you.”

The waiter nods, walking away from this peculiar pair at the windowside table of this little restaurant, tucked away in one tiny corner of the city. He comes back with the check a moment later, still quite adamant on offering another bottle of Chianti to go.

Y/N shakes her head, much more composed now. “Grazie mille. The food was…” she makes a chef’s kiss gesture as she links her arm with Harrison’s on her way out.

“I’ve never seen someone openly shipping us so hard,” she muses as they enter their hotel lobby, just across the street.

“Do you think he recognized us?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t have ‘that look’, you know?”

“Ah, yes.” Harrison grins knowingly.

It doesn’t happen very often, but every now and again someone might clock them from their films or OnlyFans and they have this ‘I-can’t-believe-you’re-a-real-person’ look on their face, which can be amusing or unnerving sometimes.

“He does have the look of, ‘if you get the wine, maybe you’ll get frisky later’ though,” he adds, briefly nodding at the receptionist who wishes them a buonasera.

Y/N simply laughs it off, pressing their floor button.

The door closes, one of those antique elevators with the metal trellis and wooden finish. And suddenly there’s no noise anymore. Just the low humdrum of the old engine.

They climb past floor after floor in silence. It’s only in times like this —where there’s no one else that the voices start to settle in. The voices that ask them why aren’t they together and point out just how close they are. Arm in arm. Alone together in this tiny little space.

“Does that ever make you feel… I don’t know, weird?” Harrison speaks up, a little more quietly this time.

His nose nearly brushes against her cheek, and it makes her heart skip a beat. It takes everything to keep her composure and say, “What do you mean?”

“You know, like, when people are nosy, I guess.”

“Ah well, it comes with the job, right?” Y/N coolly shrugs it off. “And you?”

She finally brings herself to turn to him, finding him looking ahead, lips pursed, head tilted away from her. He feels her curious eyes on him, and he meets her gaze. At that moment, it seems they are both keeping their cards close to their chests. And neither is willing to budge.

The elevator dings and Y/N opens her mouth. Harrison doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath.

“You still have some makeup around your eye.” she saunters out of the elevator and towards her hotel room door.

“Fuck’s sake!” he hisses, his voice coming out sharp in the empty hallway.

“Come on, I got some cleansing oil inside,” Y/N motions him over and slides in her key card.

“This is why you’re the fucking best.” Harrison follows her into her room, drops his bag on the entryway with a flourish, and invites himself into her bathroom.

Such is life as Harrison’s friend, she sighs.

“My God, Y/N, how do you live like this?!” he hollers from inside.

She doesn’t rush inside right away. She knows exactly what he’s going on about. And sure enough, she finds him fixing the towel haphazardly strewn on its hanger and rearranging the mess of her skincare products on the bathroom counter. He makes a point to put the toothpaste cap back on in front of her.

“I was in a hurry, okay?” She simply takes the tube from him, replacing it with the glass bottle of her cleansing oil.

“You’re an animal,” he groans, although he lets her push his hair back anyway —carding her fingers through his wavy locks. It feels so good, so comforting, and he secretly wishes she could do it for longer.

But she lets go. She sits by the sink and toys with a fresh towel while he lathers his face with the cleanser. He can see there’s something on her mind, but Y/N is a stubborn little thing. The more one tries to coax it out of her, the deeper it gets buried.

So Harrison stays quiet, lathering his face with her cleansing oil. He can barely see the little knot between her eyebrows in his periphery, but he knows it’s there. Any second now...

“You know, Elena said something similar earlier.”

And there it is. “What’d she say?”

Y/N waits until he turns on the tap, rinsing his face. Perhaps some white noise and mundane activity would be a good buffer. “She asked if we were together. Said the chemistry doesn’t lie, or whatever.”

Harrison turns off the tap, and the small squeak sounds deafening at the moment. “And what did you say?”

“I said we’re really good friends!” she replies matter-of-factly, a little too loud and high-pitched to be casual. Well, at least he’s patting his face with the towel, so she can’t see his face.

Alas, the distraction only buys her 5 seconds until Harrison puts it down. He folds it in two and sets it aside. An extra 3 seconds, but it’s enough for him to muster up the courage to say,

“Would it be so bad if it were true?”

“What?” she looks up from her hands in her lap, for the first time sounding less than cocksure about herself.

He shrugs, absently fixing the row of bottles and tubs in front of him. “I’m just saying.”

“What are you saying?”

“I… like you and I like what we have and —I don’t know. Maybe I want to kiss you when we’re not working.” he wipes his hands awkwardly and leans against the sink.

They’ve been in every intimate situation known to man, with tens of people watching, and yet… in the stillness of this sleek bathroom, bathed in warm vanity light reflected against emerald green tiles, they’ve never felt so naked with each other. So vulnerable.

“Just kisses?” Y/N eventually pipes up, a glint of humor in her eyes —but also a sliver of yearning, too.

“See, that’s the other thing! We already know how compatible we are in bed and, like, we both do the same shit for work; we don’t need to have that awkward conversation about what the relationship will be like between us.”

“What if I want you to quit doing porn?” she crosses her arms, challenging him. Making sure he’s not fucking with her.

He makes a face like he knows her like the back of his hand. “Do you, really?”

And he does, she begrudgingly admits. “No, I don’t,” she sighs.

“That’s exactly what I mean." he lodges himself between her open legs. “What do you say?”

Y/N loosely wraps her legs around his trim waist, hands sneaking under his sweatshirt. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

It’s a valid concern and definitely something he’s maturely considered. “Then we… go back to being friends and co-workers. I mean, at the very worst, I don’t see us ending so badly, we wouldn’t stand to be around each other.”

“I don’t know about that, though. You’re pretty anal.”

“I thought you liked me because I’m anal.” he quirks his eyebrows at the last word.

“Shut up…” she weakly swats his chest, though she keeps her hand there, her initial worries dissipating. Gosh, being with Harrison is so easy. “So we’re doing this?”

“If you want to.”

“Sex without a camera, huh? That’s new.” she smirks at her own remark.

“No camera, no crew, no makeup…” he teases, pulling her in.

Their foreheads rest against each other, and it does calm her nerves a bit. “When in Rome,” she murmurs.

She makes the first move. They must’ve kissed a thousand times today, adding to tens of thousands more kisses in all the times they’ve worked together. But this one feels new. Unhurried. Untethered.

Indulgent, for once.

They eventually move to the bed and Y/N has no qualms with continuing their makeout session right away, but of course Harrison can’t stand the mess of clothes on the edge of the bed. She tuts and pushes it onto the floor, only to find him shooting a dirty glare at her.

“You’re an animal,” Harrison reiterates his disdain for her messy habits.

“Ugh, you’re so anal. Leave me alone!” She groans, stretching out her limbs in her bed.

“I didn’t hear you complain about that earlier,” he retorts, pulling her back into his arms.

The night is young and with no marks to hit, no takes to nail, they just lay on their sides and make out in bed for the longest time. Fingers dancing on the skin under their shirts, lazily peeling away one clothing item after another. She draws an invisible line from freckle to freckle, from his neck to his hip, before eventually resting her palm over his heart. Beating stubbornly under the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Harrison’s hand treads between her legs, knuckles stroking her soft inner thigh. She lets him in, of course, reveling in the way he traces her clit. How his whole body presses against hers, taking in every shift in her movement. Every twitch. Every subtle reaction to the way he makes her feel so fucking good.

Y/N arches up into his touch as he inches closer towards her opening. No words needed to be said; he knows what she wants. And when he spreads her own wetness around her cunt just a little too long, he simply wants to savor her bashful little laugh… and watch it falter when his fingers swiftly enter her.

“Shit…” her hand flies up around his neck, pulling him back into a kiss.

He falls out of the kiss as her jaw slacks at the quickening of his pace, and he ventures down her breasts. Finding his way to her hardened nipple, nipping and sucking to his heart’s desire.

And his heart desires to hear her sweet sighs and feel her fall apart underneath him.

She gives him just that, and it’s the easiest thing ever. Her whole body is overwhelmed with the sensation of his fingers stroking her sweet spot and his thumb lightly —lithely pressing on her clit. Soon enough, she succumbs to the impending release and whimpers his name as she cums. She trusts him to listen to her body and follow the signs, and sure enough… he does. He powers through her orgasm and slows his pace as she winds down.

"Fuck, that was nice.” she falls back into her pillow.

“I know. You’ve been doing a lot of the work today, my love,” he smooths out her hair, kissing her sweetly. “Want me to take the reins now?”

“Mm, yes please.” As bossy as she is, Y/N can’t fight how her limbs feel like jelly after that. And being taken care of really doesn’t sound so bad right now.

And Harrison is more than happy to do so. He lines up his hard, veiny cock and slides it in bit by bit, letting her adjust to his size. He’s always been thicker than he seems, and as sexy as it may be to make her scream with one swift thrust, the promise of slow, vanilla sex sounds way more enticing to them.

Y/N wraps her legs around his waist and eventually pulls him all the way in. Above all, her heart feels full at how tender they are with each other.

“You feel so good…” he hums into her neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake as he feels her walls gripping him like a vice.

“So do you, darling,” she murmurs back, grinding her hips into his.

He starts thrusting in and out of her, easing her into the comings and goings of his cock. She keeps him close, though. Letting herself be enshrouded by his body, his scent. His warmth. It feels grounding.

And when Harrison picks up his pace and inching closer towards their high, she finds herself settling back into the comfort of their relationship. In her haze of it all, she still finds it in her to tease him.

“That’s it. Fuck. Be a good boy and take care of Daddy,” she lazily grins.

He clenches his jaw, the motion of his hips faltering just a little. “Fuck’s sake, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she blinks up at him, feigning innocence and fooling nobody.

“You know what, Y/N,” he replies with a grunt and a thrust that reaches deep into her core.

And of course, with the big dick energy she possesses, she responds with a sharp smack on his ass. “Don’t be rude, that’s Daddy for you.”

“Fuck!” he feels the clench of her pussy, the sting of her palm, and the sly smirk gazing up at him and he loses all control. Blowing his load into her silky inner walls.

Meanwhile Y/N is rocking a shit-eating million-dollar smile through it all. That little shit.

“That’s a dirty fucking game you’re playing,” he says between labored breaths into the crook of her neck.

“I know.” she kisses his sweat-damp hair.

Harrison, sluggish as he is after his orgasm, lifts his head up to meet her gaze. “I’mma get you for that.”

“Oh yeah? How?”

Y/N feels two things in the span of 3 seconds: emptiness, from Harrison pulling out of her and his weight on top of her suddenly gone just like that. And then warmth, of his mouth on her spent, dripping pussy. He wastes no time devouring the juices leaking out of her like it’s the only thing he’ll ever do. There's no camera to pander the money shot —just his insatiable self and this sexy, peculiar, funny creature that he’s crazy about. And if he spends the rest of his life bringing her to her sweet release and nothing else, he’d be the luckiest man alive.

Her big finish comes as sudden, as intense as her beginning. The kind that takes her breath away and makes her thighs tremble and close in around his head. And he makes good on his promise —he keeps licking her clit as a playful revenge, until she actively pushes his head away from the overstimulation.

“You’re an animal,” she whines, although she pulls him back into her embrace.

“That’s what you get for exposing me!”

“Um, excuse me? You exposed yourself, sir.”

“I guess I couldn’t help it when you’re being so fucking sexy like that.”

They exchange looks, the room suddenly quieting down —and then they burst into laughter, gagging and shuddering at the corny, porn-y pickup line.

“Oh God, Elena is gonna have a field day tomorrow,” Y/N sighs as she settles back into his chest. He makes for a nice pillow, it turns out.

“Ah well, let her,” he smooths out her sexed-up hair gently, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “We’ll be alright.”

And if this is what she falls asleep and wakes up to forever, she’s pretty sure she will be.

***

thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed it! if you like my work, please consider giving me feedback through reblogs and asks. thank you so much <333

Softy | Bucky barnes x fem!reader

When you first met Bucky, it was different. He didn't want to let people in because he thought they would betry a him like hydra. He was a bit cold hearted. And with nightmares, only having Steve as a friend and he didn't really know what to do. So you kinda stepped in.

The first night he didn't really want to have to do anything with you. He woke up screaming I think everyone must've heard it, it was loud. So you stepped out of bed but a shirt on to look a but presentable,a and walked to buckys room. Some were already there trying to calm him down but his breathing was heavy.

You went up to him, pushing everyone so what out the door, so it was only you two in the room. You looked at him, lifting his chin up so he could look you in the eyes. "Hey do you mind telling me what the nightmare was about you have been having those alot lately?" You said softly also trying not to scare him too much. "Its just hydra....they did all those things to me and brainwashed me into killing my bestfriend and those people I killed it's still all in my head" he said guilty with tears in his eyes, you felt very bad for him what he must've felt in that time.

"I understand can I lay down with you?" You asked hesitant thinking he wouldn't agree, but he nodded instantly lifting up the covers. You got in bed placing his head on your chest, and stroking his head, he hummed at the feeling soon lulling him to sleep. You looked down at him asleep smiling, seeing him sleep so peacefully for the first time in years, you knew you loved him already then.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You were having a movie night with all the avengers. You were sitting on the couch with Bucky beside you, both at the end of the couch. You whispered so you wouldn't disturb the movie. "Hey babe, do you want to cuddle?" He looked at you with puppy eyes. "Yea sure? Come here" he went to lay on you. Your hand went immediately to his head playing with his hair as he fell asleep, you following soon after

The team looked at you to in awe, they've happy since you both ahd a hard past. Steve spoke up first "he looks so happy and they really have a soft spot for each other haven't seen them so happy since they got here." He said smiling. Everyone agreed nodding. "They really deserve each other" nat said. And that is how bukcy went from killing machines to a big cuddling teddy bear.

A/N: hi this is my first every imagine I hoped you liked it. I'm still very new to writing and I want to also write stuff that you would love. So hope you could sent some requests and I could happily make them for you, it would take a bit of time for me to figure out how I work this but I'll be fine. I wrote for almost whole the teenwolf just not really the adults, like sheriff or Chris or something more only the pack. I know teenwolf the best and have seen it so some are just characters that I would like you could also send in some marvel request just dont know how I would do that. But yeah hope you liked it.

Every Part of You

Pairing - Grumpy!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader A.N. - Alright, I've been asked to write about Bucky and Sunshine's first time many, many times. And the thing is, like sure, I could write that, but also I want us to take a moment to consider trying to build up to that. There's so many firsts buried in there that I think need to be navigated through before they even get there. This is one of those firsts. Like the first time you see Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Grumpy Sunshine Series

"You're just- " You stop speaking, searching for his lips again. Though you're breathless, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him, "You're so pretty."

You shudder as you feel his hand slip under your sweater. The occasional graze of the cool metal on your skin enough to send shivers down your spine.

His lips trail down, nipping at your jaw, "I'm not pretty."

Your hands, winded in the hair at the nape of his neck, glide down his neck, to clutch the fabric of his henley. The moment he feels your fingers toy with the collar of his shirt, his heart hammers against his ribcage. Not in the sort of way that he usually feels in these moments with you. He feels a sense of dread, of panic. It wraps around his spine like a python. It feels like he can't breathe.

"You're so -"

He wrenches away from you, his chest heaving, "Stop, stop, stop."

You freeze, immediately dropping your hands. Panic starts creeping up your throat, coating your words. "Did I - did I do something wrong?"

He gulps, silently shaking his head. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, to regain the ability to speak clearly, "No, no, you're - you're perfect."

Guilt starts to eat at him. He can see you doing your very best to keep your own feelings off your face. He can see the sting of his rejection in the way your lips press together in a tight line. The embarrassment in the pallor of your once flushed cheeks.

You two have worked so hard to overcome your own personal issues and traumas, to build trust in each other, moments like these hadn't come easy. And he so callously pushed you away, it makes him feel worse. And what makes his heart ache even more, he sees nothing but concern for him shining in your eyes. You just look so worried for him.

Your hands rest in your lap. You twist and untwist your fingers. "If you don't want to, we don't - we don't have to do anything. I'm really sorry -"

"No, no, please don't be sorry." He reaches for you, gently squeezing your hand. It soothes him as much as it does you. "I want to. You don't know how much I want to."

"But?"

His eyes squeeze shut. He can't bring himself to meet your eyes. "You haven't seen it before - my arm, my shoulder."

"Oh."

He drops your hand. That feeling takes over him again. It feels like there's not enough air in the room. He slides away from you, closer to the edge of the tiny couch in your apartment. "It's - I am not pretty."

It breaks your heart, watching him pull away from you. You can only imagine how many people have turned away from him before. "James..."

He fervently shakes his head, refusing to open his eyes, "No, no, I know what you're gonna say, but it's bad. A lot worse than you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"It's bad," he insists. "I see it every day and I can barely - it's just bad, okay?"

You take his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay if you don't want me to see it. I understand."

He finally opens his eyes again as his eyebrows pull together. He still doesn't meet your eye. "No, no, I want to - I trust you with this, I do. I just - I want you to be prepared."

In that moment, you realize that it's not really about preparing you. Not at all.

He thinks you're going to react badly. He thinks that this will make you turn away from him for the first time ever. He's worried that the love and adoration in your eyes will turn to disgust and repulsion.

It's less about preparing you for the scarred flesh, and more about warning you that he couldn't take a bad reaction. He's not sure he could take it if you turned away from him too.

"I love you," you promise him. "There's nothing that you could show me that would change that. I hope you know that."

There is no response to that. And you know that he won't believe it until he sees it. It takes him a moment. His hand toys with the hem of his shirt. His hand grips the hem, only to let it go.

"I love you," you remind him.

He takes a large gulp of air, pulling off his shirt with one quick movement.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting. You knew the story. You knew how Bucky lost his arm. He even confided the bits and pieces he remembered from getting his vibranium arm.

Your eyes trail over his skin. The shoulder is scarred, scars jut in every direction. Each scar is etched into his skin. It's clear it was a painful, violent experience for him. The metal plate protrudes from the scar tissue in a way that you're sure was painful when first placed. You look on with curiosity, you're not really sure how this, a sign of survival, a badge of resilience, could ever make anyone turn away from him.

He's as breathtaking as you could ever imagine.

Your eyes flicker up at him. He looks at the blank wall of your apartment, scared to watch your facial expressions as you take it in. "Can I?"

He nods, barely able to look you in the eyes. He sucks in a breath when your fingers make contact with the scar tissue surrounding the metal plate.

You immediately pull your fingers back, worried you've accidentally hurt him. "Does it hurt?"

"No," he answers reflexively.

You know he's lying. "I've seen you holding your shoulder before - holding it like it hurts."

"Sometimes," he amends. "The doctor said there's a lot of nerve damage. Things they can't fix."

"Does it hurt now?"

"No."

You run your hand over the plate, over his scars, down to his shoulder blade.

"Still think I'm pretty?" he sarcastically remarks.

You press a gentle kiss to his bare shoulder. "I'll always think you're pretty. Every part of you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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Kidnapped

Fridolina Rolfö x Baby!Reader

Summary: Frido kidnaps you

Frido thought that her parents were going crazy when they called. She thought they were losing their marbles when they complained that they missed a full house and were planning on adopting.

She'd swept it under the rug until she received a picture two months later of her parents in a baby's room with a tiny baby sleeping in a crib. She hadn't even realised they were being serious until the picture.

But now, as she stood with you in her arms, she understood it completely.

It had been all too easy to escape with you for training this morning. With her parents coming to visit and the time difference from Sweden to Spain, they had both been out for the count and Frido had taken you with her.

She was still technically injured and only joined in with light training so this was a perfect way to bond with you.

"Frido," Ingrid says as she steps into the locker room," What...What have you done?"

She stood in the doorway in shock, blocking the entrance before she was shoved out of the way by the other girls. Each of them had a similar reaction, stopping and staring before being brutally shoved over so the next person could take their place.

"Hmm?" Frido asks, not looking up from where she's feeding you your bottle," I just finished my gym session. Why?"

"I think she means the baby, mate," Lucy butts in, eyes wide as she stares with no shame," Was the knee injury just a cover up for a pregnancy?"

"What? No! This is y/n. My little sister."

"That's a baby."

"Well, yes, but she's my little sister too."

"I think she looks very sweet," Irene cuts in before anyone else can drag this out any longer.

Irene approaches and you draw your eyes away from where they've gone cross-eyed to see your bottle to look at her. You keep suckling as you stare at her with unblinking eyes.

"This is Irene, älskling," Frido coos," She plays football with me."

You keep suckling as your eyes cut towards the rest of the girls who have begun to line up to get a closer look at you.

"So," Patri laughs," Did you steal her from Sweden or-?"

"My parents came to visit," Frido replies as she detaches you from your bottle and places you on her shoulder to wind you," And I'm letting them have the day off."

"Did you tell them that?"

Frido's face goes a little red. "I left a note. It's not like I kidnapped her!"

"This is like the textbook definition of kidnap," Patri laughs, pulling a silly face at you when you're turned back around to face her," But she's cute so I'm glad you did it."

Frido looks down at you. "She is, isn't she?"

She didn't know what to expect from you when her parents came to visit. She'd seen you briefly in video calls and received routine pictures and videos of you but meeting you in person was different.

You were so small and sweet and you fit just perfectly in her arms. You'd reached up to her with your little baby hands and patted at her cheek and she fell in love with you right then and there.

Ingrid comes to greet you next.

You're more aware of everyone now as you sit propped up on Frido's lap. Your little legs kick out occasionally as Frido sways you side to side. You seem to like that because you let out little peals of giggles as Ingrid approaches.

She smiles at you and Frido beams at her.

It's not that she needs approval but Ingrid's one of her best friends and it would mean a lot if she liked you too.

Ingrid goes down onto her knees so you're at eye level with her. You stare at her like you stared at Irene before Frido rocks you slightly. Your face splits into a smile and you giggle again, kicking your legs out and stuffing your fist into your mouth.

Ingrid grins, looking up at Frido.

"You should be careful," She says," If you keep kidnapping her then your parents might never let you bring her back to see us."

Frido laughs, lifting you up until you're both pressed cheek to cheek. "They'd never be able to separate me from my älskling. I'm going to take her everywhere with me!"

"She's your sister," Ingrid reminds her," She'll have to go back to Sweden at some point."

"No!" Frido declares, shaking her head and laying several ticklish kisses on your cheek, sending you into another round of bell-like giggles. "She's staying with me! They can't have her anymore!"

"So, this kidnapping is a permanent thing," Ingrid teases.

"No!" Frido looks at you and your little gummy smile and the way that you kick your feet out even though you're dangling in her arms. "Maybe!" You shove your fist into your mouth and Frido coos. "Would you like that, älskling? Living with me? Spain is so much warmer than Sweden."

You gurgle and Frido takes that as agreement.

"You're staying with me, huh?" She says as you suddenly get distracted by your own feet, reaching down to tug at them. "I know. We're going to have so much fun together."

"Fun together on the run," Patri teases," Because that's certainly kidnapping."

"I'll lay low at Ingrid's for a while. She and Mapi have already got everything set up for a baby. Me and älskling will be fine."

"They've got things set up for a child," Patri reminds her," Their cub isn't a baby anymore. Sorry, Frido, you've got no chance of outrunning the law."

Frido grins as you kick your feet and giggle again. "We'll work something out."

“My girlfriend will be upset if she sees you touching me like that on my chest,” Carlos murmured, high as fuck post surgery.

“Sir—” you sighed, removing the stethoscope from his chest. You straightened the lapels of your white coat. “I’m your doctor.”

Carlos Sr. made an amused noise from his chair beside his son’s hospital bed. He gestured towards you.

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” Carlos Sr. told his son.

“Oh,” Carlos blinked his big, brown eyes. “I don't?”

Carlos was certain he had a girlfriend. They've been dating for over four years now. Their relationship was kept from the world as his girlfriend wanted to focus on her job without being bombarded by Carlos' millions of fans in her workplace and Carlos respected that, although he was not exactly the type who liked the idea of secret relationships. What did she do again? Carlos couldn't remember. The anesthesia was making everything whoozy for him.

“That's your wife, son.”

Carlos moved his gaze to your coat—[Name] [Surname]-Sainz, M.D., Chief of Trauma Surgery.

"Oh."

You raised an amused brow at his dumbstruck face, his beautiful brown eyes wide and his mouth agape. You shook your head at your husband's adorableness, smiling affectionately.

😂😂

Find your name with the gif button and add the one that is the most relatable

Find your name with the gif button and add the one that is the most relatable

This is the cutest thing I’ve ever read please read this! It’s super cute and beautiful! I’m in tears!🥺😂🥰

OOOOOO, I really like your writing and u asked for prompts. So, maybe u could do a really shy!reader or mute!reader with peter? I think that be cute! Or you can do it with tom since u said once that you like writing for tom more :)

secret language

Pairing: Peter Parker x Mute!Reader

Synopsis: a study in the silence that comes when two people understand each other

Masterlist

You sat alone at on a bench on your first day of kindergarten, feeling intimidated by the noise and spectacle of it all. You hugged your backpack to your chest, wishing the day could go faster so you could fo home.

Then he came up to you.

“Hi. I’m Peter.” A curly haired boy pulled the seat out next to you and sat down. You waved at Peter and put your backpack on the table, deciding to give him a chance.

“Do you have a name?” Peter asked, and you nodded your head. You took his hand and laid his palm flat, carefully writing your name with your finger.

“Wait, do it again.” Peter requested, watching your every move intently. You wrote your name again on his palm and he titled his head, staring at his hand like the word would be written there.

“Y/n?” He looked up at you once he figured it out. “Am I saying it right?”

You nodded happily and pointed to yourself before giving him a thumbs up. Peter smiled proudly and looked at his hand again.

“Do you not talk?” He wondered, making you shake your head no.

“That’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t like to talk either.”

Peter began to swing his legs, looking around the classroom in awe before his eyes fell on Aunt May, who was talking to the teacher.

“Is your mommy still here?” He turned to you to ask. You nodded and pointed to your mom, who was laughing with one of the single dads.

“She’s pretty. Her shoes are so tall!” Peter exclaimed as he pointed at her high heels. You laughed silently, smiling to show that you agreed. Peter smiled back at you, several teeth in the front row missing. His smile faded suddenly as he looked down at his lap.

“My parents just died.” He confessed to you. “Uncle Ben said they’re in heaven. I tried to look for Heaven on the map on the subway, but I couldn’t find it. Do you know where it is?”

You shook your head and Peter sighed.

“Me either.” He said, pouring a little as he slumped in his seat. You sat in silence for a moment until you heard a little noise from Peter.

“I miss my mommy.” He said quietly, his voice sounding weak.

Your eyes filled with sympathy for Peter as you stuck your bottom lip out. Peter watched you curiously as you reached out your hand, taking his little one in your own and squeezing it three times. Peter gasped a little, looking up at you with wide eyes as you gave him a gentle smile. It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he was scared, three squeezes to say three words.

I. Love. You.

Aunt May didn’t know about their little ritual, so when Peter squeezed her hand three times as they lowered his mom into the ground, she didn’t squeeze back. It made Peter wonder if anyone would tell him they loved him in the secret language ever again. But here you were, squeezing his hand to let him know it was okay.

“Thank you.” He smiled, his eyes no longer glassy. “I love you too.”

You smiled at him and he noticed that were missing teeth too. Peter pointed to your mouth and laughed before pointing to his own. You both doubled over on the bench (I was over on the bench) in a fit of laughter, as if you had reached the very apex of comedy with missing teeth and gaps in your smiles.

You and Peter spent the day together, communicating though words written on his palm or on a piece of paper. He found it very easy to understand you, even when you didn’t speak. He liked your quiet company far better than the loud children in the class, knocking over blocks and crying over toys. You were different, and Peter liked different.

At the end of the day, Peter saw his family and grabbed your hand, running towards them with you in tow.

“Aunt May! Uncle Ben! I made a friend. She’s a mule.” Peter proudly presented you to his aunt and uncle. You smiled politely at them as they shared a confused look.

“What sweetie?” Aunt May asked as she crouched down a little. In the mean time, your mother had spotted you holding hands with Peter and made her way over.

“Mute. Y/n is a selective mute.” Your mother explained as she came up behind you. “Hi, I’m her mother.”

“Like on a remote!” Peter cheered as the adults shook hands. “Can she come over?”

“Is that alright with her mommy?” Uncle Ben looked at your mother for permission.

“Sure.” Your mother complied. “If you give her a piece of paper, she can write some words down. I’ll give you my number just in case.”

“She doesn’t need paper.” Peter shook his head. “We can already talk, look.”

Peter held you your enjoined hands and squeezed yours three times. You squeezed back, making him grin.

“See? She said she loves me.” He exclaimed, letting your hands drop back to your sides.

“That’s so cute. I was so worried about her making friends. She stopped speaking after her father passed.” Your mother quietly explained to May and Ben.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Peters parents just passed as well.” May said sympathetically while Ben watched the two of you. A complicit smile sat on his lips as he saw his nephew genuinely smile for the first time since his parents died.

“My condolences.” Your mother touched May’s arm kindly.

“Thank you.” May put her hand over your mother’s. “It’s been really difficult for him. It’s been so long since he-“

She was cut off by Peter laughing loudly at something you didn’t say, but conveyed. Tears brimmed in her eyes as you wrote something on Peter’s palm, something that made him light up like the forth of July.

“Since he’s been happy.” She finished.

“Lucky they found each other, huh?” Your mother smiled fondly as she watched you and Peter play, earning a nod from May.

And lucky you were.

Over the next few years, you and Peter developed a secret language entirely comprised of soft touches, expressive looks and squeezes. It was a dialect that only existed between the two of you, and that was how you liked it.

“Welcome, students, to your first day of high school. My name is Mrs. Ingrid, I’ll be your english teacher this year. I’d like us to go around the room and say your name and what you did this summer.”

You looked at Peter with panicked eyes as tired groans echoed around the classroom. It was your very first period of your very first day and you were already freaking out. Peter gave you a gentle smile as he reached across his desk and took your hand, giving it three solid squeezes.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “I got you.”

“Mr. Parker.” Mrs. Ingrid said suddenly. “Since you’re talking, would you like to go first?”

“O-Okay.” Peter stuttered as he stood up from his desk. “My name is Peter Parker. This summer I watched all the Star Wars movies in a row without breaking to sleep.”

“Thank you for sharing.” She nodded curtly and turned to you, as you were seated next to Peter. “Ms. L/n, you can go next.”

“This is-“ Peter began.

“I believe she can speak for herself.” Mrs. Ingrid snapped, narrowing her eyes at Peter. You looked at Peter with eyes full of guilt as you unintentionally made him get off on the wrong foot with the teacher. You expected Peter to be scared, but his face showed that he was perfectly calm.

“Actually she can’t, ma’am.” Peter said politely. “This is Y/n L/n and she’s mute. She also spent her summer watching the Star Wars movies but she fell asleep sometime between Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith.”

Surprised murmurs swept though the crowd at the mention of the word “mute”. It was something the students hadn’t been exposed to yet and you felt the individual pricks as they sunk their teeth into it. Knowing the pantomime spotlight was being shone on you, you turned to the class and gave a weak smile.

“My apologies.” Mrs. Ingrid said shortly. “I forgot we had a disabled student this year. Thank you, Peter. And welcome Y/n.”

She turned her back to the class to hide the flush of embarrassment as a student called her out, but Peter had more to say.

“It’s not a disability.” He spoke up, shrinking in his seat when everyone’s eyes went to him.

“I’m sorry?” Mrs. Ingrid turned around with an unamused grin.

“Well, Y/n is mute because of an anxiety disorder.” Peter explained. “She physically has the ability to speak, but she mentally feels like she can’t. She doesn’t see it as a disability.”

“Did she tell you that?” Flash, a boy with his name stitched onto the pocket of his shirt, asked from somewhere behind the room, making the whole room laugh at you.

The whole room except Peter

Peter turned around in his seat and glared at Flash, armed and ready to defend you if needed.

“Yes, she did.” Peter stated. “She tells me everything.”

Flash snickered and rolled his eyes as Peter turned around in his seat. Other students continues to gawk at you, as if your mutism could be seen on the outside. Your face flamed red until you felt Peters hand on your shoulder, squeezing it three times to calm you down.

“I apologize, Y/n.” Mrs. Ingrid smiled at you. “Would the next student like to go?”

You walked home once the day had ended with Peter by your side, quietly thinking to yourself as he talked about his science class.

“Anyways.” He paused time catch his breath as he finished his story. “How was your day?”

You looked at him sideways before grabbing his hand and writing an “E” on his palm.

“Come on. English wasn’t that bad.” He insisted, grimacing a little when you glared at him. You made a gesture of a circle before sharply pointing at yourself.

“I know. But I bet everyone had a moment today where they felt like everyone was staring at them.” Peter tried to assure you but you rolled your eyes.

“Tomorrow will be better.” Peter said decidedly. “That Flash kid is so annoying though. How many classes do you have with him?”

You held up three fingers and Peters eyes widened in sympathy.

“Three?” He gasped. I’m so sorry. Hopefully he was just trying to show off for the first day.”

You shrugged a little and pantomimed popping your collar, to which Peter laughed.

“Right?” Peter exclaimed. “Why does he dress like a mobsters son?”

Your shoulders moved up and down as you silently laughed with him, nearing your apartment building now.

“We should do something to celebrate our first day.” Peter decided. “What do you want?”

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, a smile appearing on his face as he caught your drift.

“You read my mind.” He sighed happily and he shifted the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder. “Coffee ice cream and Impractical Jokers it is.”

You put your hands over your heart and made a dreamy expression, to which Peter let out a groan.

“Stop it.” He laughed though a whine. “You’re the only one who thinks Sal is hot.”

You shoved him playfully as you entered the lobby of your building, making a face he knew all too well.

“I’m not having this argument with you again.” He wagged his finger in your face as he pushed the elevator button. You pouted and took his hand, writing out an expletive on his palm.

“Don’t use that tone with me young lady.” Peter feigned a gasp as he held his hand to his chest. You gave him an unamused look as he laughed at his own joke.

“Hey. “ He said suddenly as he took your hand. “Happy first day.”

You reluctantly smiled at his newfound sentimentality and squeezed his hand three times, for for each word.

~

“Mrs. Ingrid.” Flash’s hand shot up one November morning. “When we present the projects tomorrow, can Brian present mine?”

“No, Eugene.” She sighed, a snicker coming from the class as he used his first name. “Every student must do their own presentation.”

“Then how come Y/n doesn’t have to do one?” He asked spitefully, making everyone look at you. You looked to Peter for help, who was already turned in his seat to face Flash.

“You know why she doesn’t.” He said dully, tired of Flash’s unjustified vendetta against you.

“Well I don’t think it’s fair that she gets special treatment.” Flash short back, making some students “ooo” and agree.

“It’s not special treatment. Y/n is mute, Flash. You, on the other hand, have made it very clear that you are not.” Peter sassed, making the class laugh. Flash’s face turned red in embarrassment as he looked around the room for help.

“Selective mute.” He emphasized. “That means she can talk if she wanted to. You said so on the first day, Penis Parker.”

“It’s not like a light switch she can turn on and off, Flash. She doesn’t feel like she has a choice. Leave her alone.” Peter barked, getting up out of his seat now.

“If she wants me to leave her alone, she should tell me herself.” Flash snapped, getting up as well. You looked between the two boys with fearful eyes, tugging on Peters sleeve to get him to back down.

“What’s your problem?” Peter asked angrily. “What are you, jealous because she’s never spoken in this class yet still outperforms you?”

The class laughed at Peters insult, only making Flash angrier.

“I’d like to see how well she’d do without you as her interpreter.” He yelled as he pointed a finger at Peter.

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Ingrid slammed her hands on her desk. “Both of you, sit down. Y/n will be doing a power point presentation. End of discussion.”

“Yeah, that’s enough Eugene.” Peter hissed as he took his seat.

“That’ll be all, Peter.” Mrs. Ingrid narrowed her eyes at your best friend. “If this continues, I’ll have to request that the three of you be separated and put into different classes.”

“Why should Y/n and I be separated just because Flash is a dick?” Peter asked, eyes widened when he realized what he said. The students laughed at the sound of a curse word, even if it was one the uses on a daily. You looked at Peter scornfully and tapped his desk twice, communicating with him to calm down.

“Mr. Parker. I’ll be seeing you in detention.” Mrs. Ingrid stated. “Everyone, take out your textbooks and turn to page 117.”

You put your textbook on your desk and looked at Peter, giving him a sympathetic pout for getting him in trouble. You reached over and took his hand, squeezing it twice to apologize.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He whispered to you. “Detention is a small price to pay for getting to call Flash a dick to his face.”

You squeezed his hand again and tilted your head to the side, making him shake his head at you.

“No, it’s not your fault.” Peter insisted.” It was mine. I interrupted the class, not you. Don’t worry about me.”

You sighed and brushed the side of your nose with your thumb, causing Peter to smile.

“I know.” He said softly. “I always worry about you too.”

~

You found Peter waiting for you at your locker at the end of the school day, bouncing with excitement to tell you a story from his algebra class. You listened intently as you collected your books, linking your arm through his once you were done. You walked past Mrs. Ingrids classroom and heard someone clear their throat, making you both stop in your tracks.

“Going somewhere, Mr. Parker?” She asked as she appeared in the doorway, arms folded and glasses perched on the lower part of her nose bridge.

“Shoot. I forgot I have detention.” Peter groaned before turning to you. “Do you mind waiting?”

You pointed behind you with your thumb and shrugged as Peter chewed his lip nervously.

“Are you sure? What if somebody asks you for directions?” He worried, not liking the idea of you walking home by yourself. You looked at him like he was silly and pointed your finger in both directions, signally that you could just point someone in the right direction of the asked.

“Well what if the directions are really complex?” Peter added, coming up with any excuse he could think of. You made a gesture that Mrs. Ingrid didn’t understand, but seemed to make all the sense in the world to Peter.

“You’re right. You don’t need a babysitter.” He agreed. “Do you want to meet back in my room at 4?”

You nodded and took his books from him so you could drop them off in his room.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He promised as you took his hand and squeezed it three times.

“I love you too.” He smiled, giving you three squeezes before walking in the direction of the detention room. Mrs. Ingrid watched him until he disappeared around a corner, turning to you once he was gone.

“You and Peter, are you two together?” She questioned, making you shake your head. She smiled a little, looking amused as she took off her glasses and rubbed them on her shirt.

“Someone should tell him that.” She chuckled, sliding her glasses back on her face. You put your hand over your heart and rubbed it in a circle, the first gesture Mrs. Ingrid understood.

“I see.” She nodded. “You have a nice day now, Y/n. Get home safe.”

You smiled in appreciation at her before waving goodbye, walking out the doors of the school and towards your building.

You tucked your thumbs under the straps of your backpack as you walked, taking every precaution to step over the cracks in the sidewalk as you approached them.

“Hey, Hellen Keller, wait up.”

You froze for a moment when you heard Flash’s voice behind you before quickly picking up your pace. Unfortunately, he had the same idea and ran to catch up with you, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn around when he got there.

“I was talking to you. Are you deaf too now?” He snickered devilishly as you pulled your arm out of his grasp. You kept walking, but he fell into a stride right beside you.

“So how does it work? Can you and Peter read each other’s thoughts? Does he ever think about me?” Flash batted his eyelashes but you ignored him. You swallowed nervously as you began to wish you had just waited for Peter.

“Come on, Y/n. You should take my interest in you as a compliment.” Flash smirked, making you roll your eyes. “I wanna hear you speak.”

Your unbreaking silence woke up something animalistic in Flash, making him grab both your arms and pushing you into a vacant alley. He pressed you against a wall, gripping both your arms so tight, you were sure they’d bruise.

“Didn’t you hear me? Say something.” He bellowed, getting right in your face as he screamed. You turned your face away and grimaced, fidgeting to get out of his grasp.

“Fine.” He laughed in a way that made your blood turn cold. “You don’t want to talk? Then I wanna hear you scream.”

Your eyes widened as he threw you to the ground, your body skidding on the pavement as you moved. He stalked up to you like a Brute, towering over you as you held up a hand.

“Where’s your little boyfriend now?” He asked, raising his fist above your head. A scream ripped through your throat as his fist came down, never making contact with your face. You opened your eyes slowly and saw him wiping his hands, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“That’s what I thought. See you tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your PowerPoint.” He quipped, spitting on the ground next to you before leaving. Once you were sure he was gone, you sat up. Your hands went to your elbow first, as you felt blood tricking from an open wound. It wasn’t anything serious, just a scrape and a friction burn. Your hands then traveled to your neck, fingers resting over your vocal chords. You hadn’t heard a sound come from your mouth in 10 years, not even a laugh. The scream that came from your mouth was different from screams you’d heard in movies. It was deeper and hollow, as if it came from an animal. Tears stung your eyes as you got up, body aching from hitting the ground. You looked around the corner before continuing your way home, looking over your shoulder every so often out of fear.

You cleaned your elbow up in Peters bathroom, sticking a few Paw Patrol bandaids to the cut as you waiting for him to come home. You ended up falling asleep on his bed, only waking up when he came in a quarter last five.

“Hey sleepy head. I’m sorry I’m late.” He spoke in a hushed tone as he knelt beside his bed. “Mrs. Ingrid made me write on the board 100 times like Bart Simpson. Did you get back okay?”

You nodded as you sat up, slowly opening your sleep heavy eyes. Peter smiled as he smoothed the hair that was sticking up on either side of your part, smile fading when he took a closer look at your face.

“What happened? Have you been crying?” He worried as he cupped your face, turning it slightly to get a better look. Taking a deep breath to brace for Peters reaction, you held out your arm. He caught sight of the bandaids almost instantly, looking at you in disbelief before gently examining your arm.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded as he carefully twisted your arm to see the full extent of the wound. You weakly pantomimed a popped collar, seeing the anger in Peters eyes grow as he understood.

“Fucking Flash.” He stood up abruptly and slammed his hand on his wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you walk home alone.”

You got up and went over to him, shaking your head sympathetically.

“I did too have a choice.” He disagreed. “People skip detention all the time. How could I let this happen?” He asked, more so to himself as he sat on the bed. He put his head in his hands, hiding out of the shame he felt. You took a seat beside him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while resting your head on his body. You tapped his leg four times, making him bring his head out of his heads to shake it.

“It is my fault.” He told you. “I provoked him in English and that’s why he went after you. I should’ve been there. I’m so sorry.”

You pouted and took his chin between your fingers, squeezing his arm twice with your free hand.

“It’s not okay!” He yelled. “He’s been targeting you since day one. I bet he planned this. He’s probably been waiting to get you along. Did he hurt you anywhere else? Oh god, did he touch you?” Peter could barely see past his disgust long enough to get the words, turning a little green as the worst case scenario played in his mind. You frantically shook your head and Peter calmed down just a little.

“He’s lucky. He’d be a dead man if he did.” Peter stated assertively. You tilted your head and gave him a disapproving look that he read in seconds.

“How am I overreacting?” He asked. “You’re hurt! He hurt you! Screw this - I’m gonna kill him.” He got up again and heading towards the door. You sprung up from the bed and threw your arms around him from behind, stopping him in his tracks. You squeezed his tightly, resting your chin on his shoulder as you held him back. He struggled to break out of your grasp until he heard a strangled sound emit from your throat. As distorted and muffled as it was, Peter knew was you were trying to say.

“Stay.”

He hung his head in shame, knowing it scared you when he raised his voice. He put his hands over yours, which had been resting on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed, keeping his eyes down. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. You know I worry about you.”

You slowly withdrew your hands and turned him around, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you.

“I know you don’t need me to protect you. Is it wrong that I still want too?” He smiled weakly as he leaned into your palms. You shook your head and moved your hands down to his shoulders, shrugging a little to tell him you didn’t mind.

“I’m walking you home tomorrow.” He promised as he pulled you into a hug. “And everyday for the rest of my life.”

You patted his back four times, making his body shake with laughter.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Sounds good to me too.”

~

You entered Peters room a little over a year later after receiving a frantic text. The text contained exactly one word, “ouchie”, and the rest was gibberish. Peters wise eyes met yours and you smiled at him, smile fading as your eyes trailed down his body. He was clad in nothing but his boxers and one single sock, glistening with sweat from head to toe. Your best friends lean and scrawny body that you has seen hundreds of times since your childhood was replaced with broad shoulders and solid muscle, features that made your face burn all the way to your ears. That wasn’t what shocked you, though. What shocked you was the series of papers, pens, shirts, and granola bars that were sticking to his body as if adhered with glue.

“Whats happening to me?” He screamed, tugging at a Nature Valley bar sticking to his nipple. You held back a laugh when you saw how scared he looked and approached him slowly like a deer in the woods. You reached out a hand but he backed away as if you might burn him.

“Don’t.” He croaked. “You’ll stick too and I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

You waved your hand in dismissal and reached out again, placing a cool hand on Peters burning cheek. His eyes shut in tranquillity as he leaned into your hand, letting your touch calm him as it had done so many times in the past.

You peeled a shirt off his shoulder and plucked a pencil off his thigh as his breathing slowed down. You cupped his face in your hands and looked at him, wordlessly asking him to tell you what happened.

“I went to Oscorp yesterday and this spider bit me and I woke up really sweaty - and I mean really sweaty - and then I got super hungry so I went ham on granola bars - and I’m talking ape shit Y/n I didn’t even chew I just went feral on those crumbly bitches - and then things kept sticking to me and I don’t know what to do and-“

You acted on a whim and pulled Peters face towards yours, kissing him firmly on the lips. The only noise in the room was the sound of pens and granola bars hitting the ground as they slowly unstuck from his body. Peter places a gentle hand on your face as he kissed you back. You pulled away, feeling his eyelashes tickle your face as his eyes fluttered open.

“And you just kissed me.” He laughed slightly, pace significantly slower now. You gave him a knowing look and shrugged a little, making him laugh.

“You’re right.” He realized. “You didn’t stick.”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and pressed your forehead against his, letting silence fill the room as he held you.

“I don’t know what this means. I’m…I’m scared.” He whispered as he nuzzled against you. You shook your head a little, telling him he didn’t have to be scared. Moving your head up to look at you, you took his face between your hands and kissed his lips three times in a row. After the third kiss, a cheeky smile lingered on Peters lips.

“I love you too.” He told you, grinning widely before kissing you again.

~

You laid on Peters chest, a few years out of college now. His shirt was riding up a little, exposing bare skin that served as your canvas. A shy smile made on a home on your face as you traced letters on his skin.

“What was that?” He asked when he felt your touch but couldn’t make out your words. “Say it again.”

You chuckled a little at his phrasing, and he did too. In accordance to his request, you wrote your sentence again, taking your time with the curve of each letter. Peter furrowed his eyebrows a little as he propped himself up on his elbows, a little annoyed with himself for not being able to decipher what you were saying. He prided himself on being fluent in your secret language, so the only possible answer was that whatever you were writing now was something you had never written before.

“Wait, do it again.” He asked, determined to crack the code. You sat up on your elbow as well, looking at him through your lashes as you traced the words again.

“I’m convinced this is gibberish.” Peter shook his head through a chuckle, looking at curiously to see if you were messing with him. You let out a tiny whine as you stuck your bottom lip out, patting his chest twice to tell him to try harder.

“Fine, fine. Try again. But go slowly.”

You sucked in a breath and held your fingernail to his skin, slowly tracing the first word.

“Will?” He asked, grinning when you nodded and continued to write.

“You?” He looked to you for confirmation. “Will you?”

You nodded again, feeling butterflies now and you moved to the next word.

“Many?” He questioned. You shook your head repeatedly, anxious for him to figure it out. You wrote it again and saw it click for him.

“Ohh. Marry.” He smiled, proud of himself for getting it. His eyes met yours and all at once, he understood why he couldn’t figure it out before.

No one fault really, you just never proposed to him before.

“Wait.” His lips curved into a smile as he cupped your chin with his hand.

“Do it again.” He asked, unable to contain his excitement as you repeated your actions.

“One more time.” He pleaded, eyes filling with tears now. “I know what it is, I just want to feel it again.”

You wrote it again, writing it on every exposed part of his body now. You proposed on his arm, his chest, his leg and his bicep, a man excited squeal leaving his throat each time you did it.

“Give me your hand.” He fully sat up now, wrapping his arms around you and taking your hand in his. He opened your hand and flattened your palm, bringing his finger to your skin.

“Y-E-S.” He spelled out loud as he wrote on your palm. “Yes. I will marry you.”

~

Smoothing your dress with a shaking hand, you turned to your mom for last minute adjustments before you walked down the isle. She smiled widely as she touched up your hair, handing you your bouquet once she was satisfied.

“Are you ready?” She asked. “That’s a dumb question. You’ve been ready for this since kindergarten.”

Nodding at your mothers words of encouragements, you nervously clutched your bouquet of sunflowers and roses, yours and Peters favorite flowers.

“You’re so lucky to have found each other.” Your mother smiled fondly as she dusted off your shoulders. “To understand someone the way you do, it’s rare. Your father would be proud.”

Emotion overcame you as you pulled your mother into a hug, thanking her the only way you could for getting you that far. The vamping of the organ signaled to you that it was time to go, all your nervously butterflies turning into petals of excitement. Your mother gave you an assuring smile as she slipped her hand into yours, both of you facing forward now as the doors opened.

Everyone turned to look at you, a welcome gesture this time around, as you made your way down the isle. You made eye contact with Peter, who had a hand clamped over his mouth to hide his emotions. He wiped tears from his eyes as Ned patted his back, silently willing you to come faster down the isle. In his mind, you couldn’t walk fast enough. He was not interested in spending one more minute as just your boyfriend. As you got closer to the alter, you waved at the Avengers who had put on their best suits to attend your big day.

And finally, you made your way to Peter.

You whole life had been about making your way to Peter, and now, dressed in white, you had arrived. You handed your bouquet to your mother and accepted Peters hand to help you step onto the alter. Peter sniffled a little as he took your hands in his, overwhelmed in the moment by your beauty.

The priest began to speak, but you didn’t hear much. All you could focus on was your childhood best friend, soon to be husband. Your palms sweat as the vows approached, an unfamiliar tickle resting in your throat.

“And now, the vows.” The priest handed the baton to you and Peter.

“Sunsets, flowers, and you. Three beautiful things that don’t make any noise. I believe some of the most wonderful things a human being can experience happen in silence. I believe that because of you.” Peters voice cracked momentarily. “I stand before you today as someone who is permanently subscribed to your silence. I look forward to a lifetime of knowing looks and written messages on the palm of my hand. I never knew how much could be said through three simple squeezes of my hand, but it feels like my entire life has happened since the first time you touched me and the last. Though your voice has never fallen on my ears, I’m confident I could identify it anywhere. You and I have created something incredible rare, a silence that only comes when two people truly know each other. And I know you. I am blessed to say I know you. I have never heard you speak, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear you. I hear you in the early hours of the morning when the birds begin to chirp. I hear you when the blood rushes to my face because you looked at me in a certain way. I hear you when the music swells in my favorite song, and I hear you in every beat of my heart. I won’t tell you I’ll love you until death do us part, because even the jaws of death couldn’t end my love for you. I will just find you in the next life, and the one after that. Nothing could keep me away.”

You touched delicate fingers to your under eyes as you dabbed away tears, squeezing Peters hands three times to thank him for his beautiful words. Now the spotlight had once again returned to you and this time, you were ready.

“Peter.”

Peters eyes widened in astonishment before brimming with tears as your voice fell on his ears for the very first time. It wasn’t perfect after so many years of being unused, but it was yours. That’s what made it Peter’s favorite thing in the world. He bent over and rested his forehead on your enjoyed hands, almost like he was bowing to you. He stayed there for a moment before standing up again, his face full of emotion. You knew he was composed enough for you to continue, so you did.

“I shut my mouth when I was 5 and I didn’t think I was going to open it ever again. But then I met you.” You broke into a smile. You spoke slowly, taking deep breaths every few words. “There is no other way I would want to use my voice than to tell you that I love you. I have always loved you.” You sucked in a deep breath as you got emotional. “My mom worried that I wouldn’t make any friends my first day of school, and I didn’t. I made a partner for life. It is one thing to be loved and another thing to be understood. You give me me both in three small squeezes. I love you, Peter.” You finished, punctuating your vows with three squeezes of his hands.

“I love you too.” He whispered, a steady flow of tears streaming down his face now.

“I love you more.” You said, verbally for the first time.

“Peter Parker, do you take Y/n L/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” The priest asked.

“I do.”

“Y/n L/n, do you take Peter Parker to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish and honor, for better or for worse?”

“I do.”

“Oh my God.” Peter gushed, making the crowd laugh. Peter was still recovering from the fact that your first word was his name, and now you had said the two sacred words he’d been waiting his whole life to hear.

“By the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” The priest smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”

Peter wasted no time in taking your face between his hands and kissing you, smiling with joy into the kiss as you officiated your marriage.

“You did so good baby.” He whispered against your lips as the crowd clapped for you.

“Thank you.” You giggled, proud of yourself for what you did. “I’ve been practicing with my therapist since the proposal.”

“It was amazing. That’s was the greatest surprise anyone’s ever given me. Even if it was just for today, I’m so happy I could hear your voice. I love you so much.” He told you before pulling you into a hug. You rested your head on his shoulder and held him tightly, thanking God that he came up to you that first day of kindergarten.

“I love you too.”

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