Enjoy The Butterflies
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.
More Posts from Squirreljoe and Others
lotus
a/n: this has been sitting half-written on my pc for i don't even know how many months (tbh at least half a year. i was living somewhere else when i started it wow). finally took a deep breath and finished it (though with an ending that kinda flies by a bit because just wanted it to get done. i was scared that the story would never see the light of day, so zooming through the ending was a better option)
summary: a nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”
warnings: massage therapist!bucky barnes x reader, smut, sex worker!bucky, bucky doesn't have the metal arm in this one, thinking that your friend just signed you up for a normal massage but then it turns out to be an erotic one, kissing, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, toys, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, anal, double penetration
word count: 4000
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With a hand tangled up in one of the ties of the robe you wore, you answered your front door after finally hearing the bells chime.
“Hi,” a soft smile swiftly warmed up the features of the man standing on the other side of the threshold, “are you miss Y/l/n?”
“Yeah, I am,” a tingle of nerves flickered through your body as your gaze washed over him, “you must be the masseuse.”
Why did he have to be so attractive? If it was this difficult to remember to breathe when he was standing completely out of your reach, then how were you going to survive a guy such as him touching you?
Following your gaze down to the folded-up table he carried, he nodded, “guilty,” before setting down the duffle bag he clutched in his other hand and extended it for you to grasp, “my name is Bucky.”
“Bucky,” you briefly shook it, “nice to meet you.”
“You too,” the touch faded, and he bent down to pick the supplies back up, “so, where should I set up?”
“Oh, in here, in the living room,” you gestured behind you and shifted to the side for him to enter. As he set up everything, you stayed at the perimeter and felt your heartbeat thump behind your ribcage, “is it weird that I’m a bit nervous?” you then quietly asked.
Briefly pausing his actions as he unfurled the massage table, he cast a glance your way.
“It’s not weird at all, it’s okay,” he stated in a calm tone, “but I assure you, this is a completely safe space, you’re in good hands.”
“I just–, this wasn’t exactly my idea, or even at all,” your hands fiddle further with the terrycloth tie around your waist as you began to ramble, “Nat, my friend, she told me that I needed to relax, so she booked this appointment for me as a treat. I don’t even know what it is she signed me up for, if it was just like a little five-minute long thing or what.”
“Oh no, she signed you up for the full package, 90 minutes.”
“Really?” your eyebrows rose, “wow, that’s amazing.”
Once the table was set up and he rummaged through the bag for a towel as well as other supplies, his low timbre filled the room once more.
“So, before we start, I’d just like to ask if there’s anything off limits to you, anything you don’t like or that you’re not interested in? Or perhaps something in particular you’d like today?”
“Uh, I don’t think so,” your eyes narrowed slightly as you thought, quickly scanning through your body to get a good sense, “you can just be as rough with me as you want.”
“Alright, you like it rough, good to know,” you felt yourself suck in a silent breath at the way the phrase fell from his lips, “you ready to begin?”
“Yep,” you swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered he seemed to make you.
He then lifted up the ivory sheets he’d sprawled out on the plush bench and held it up high, giving you a smidge of privacy as you dropped your robe to a nearby armchair, before laying down on the table and feeling the cotton drape over you.
As you layed there on your stomach with your face comfortably nestled in the little nook, you sensed Bucky adjust the fabric, folding it down so that your entire back was exposed.
A dull click found your ears as he pumped some oil into his palm. The very first touch conjured a brisk breath to fill your lungs as his hands slid along your spine, spreading the slickness around.
Though when you finally managed to force yourself to relax into his touch, a soft moan slipped from your lips as his meticulous grip found a muscle particularly sore.
“Sorry,” you timidly apologized for the sound.
But he simply zeroed in on the very spot that had made you groan and said, “don’t apologize, whatever bubbles up, please let it out.”
Your lips stayed half parted as his touch dug deeper, “it just feels really good right there...”
“Yeah, you seem to be holding a lot of tension in your back, especially right here between your shoulder blades.”
“Probably all the time on the couch,” you let out a pitiful chuckle, “I just kept on getting into uncomfortable positions and then stayed like that. Which, funnily enough, is pretty symbolic of how I ended up there in the first place, stuffing my face with Ben and Jerry’s and binging the most depressing of romcoms.”
“Bad breakup?” he guessed.
“I don’t think you can call it a break-up if you never really were together in the first place,” you let out a sigh. Yet again had you fallen for a guy who’d turned out to be a complete and utter asshole, “men are just pigs,” you spat out, “no offence.”
“Oh, none taken,” he uttered, “you know, it’s actually very common for people to get this particular treatment after something like that.”
“Really? Your touch is on the same level as bawling your eyes out to Joni Mitchell?” you jested, “well, now I’m really happy that I let my friend talk me into this.”
Soon, when his touch had kneaded every inch of your back, it faded away and reappeared lower on your frame as you then felt him fold the sheet up to expose your legs, letting the thin fabric only drape across and cover the curve of your bottom.
Once his touch had soothingly wandered up the length of your legs and as his broad palms dented your slightly parted thighs, you nearly didn’t notice through the trance-like state you’d drifted off to when his reach crept close enough to your core to feel the heat radiating off it. A gasp parted your lips as his fingers briefly ghosted against the very outside of your puff before retreating back down your thigh.
“Is it alright if remove this for a bit?” he then asked as you felt his hand clutch the sliver of modesty that remained.
“Oh, uhm,” you fought to comprehend his question through the haze you’d slipped into, both the haze of relaxation, though maybe more predominately the haze of sin, which was most likely what had swayed you to utter, “sure,” trying your best to stay calm as he removed the sheet completely.
It became a difficult task to keep your quiet noises at bay and have them not seep through your heavy breath as he then began to massage the soft peak of your butt.
You tried to remind yourself that it was the biggest muscle on the human body and thereby completely normal to be treated in this manner, but that truth would have been easier to swallow if it had been a less attractive specimen touching you in such a way.
Eventually, Bucky’s lavish rubs came to spread you apart with each repetitive motion, surely granting himself a perfect view of just how mortifyingly wet you’d become.
As he let his broad thumbs dig into your sitting points, you told yourself it was the slipperiness of the oil that caused his fingers to sweep closer to your core and not your own nectar that had leaked down towards his touch.
It felt so good that your hips unconsciously tilted up and into his touch, as his thumbs slid close enough to caress your outer lips, nearly capturing them in a gentle pinch.
You didn’t know how long it took, how long you essentially grinded into him as if you were in heat, but eventually, you snapped out of your fog and realized just where his fingers were.
“U-uh… w-what are you doing?” your frame jumped slightly at the realization.
“Do you not like this?” his touch paused, though didn’t retreat.
“Why–, uhm…” you nearly panted, “you’re just very close to somewhere else.”
And when he simply uttered, “yeah, I know,” in an almost amused and cocky tone. You swiftly propped yourself up onto your arms and glared back at him, successfully prompting him to rip his hands away.
Snatching the sheet back over your frame as you scrambled to a seat, you stared back at him in utter shock, “I’m sorry, but are you actually trying to sleep with me right now?”
His brows furrowed slightly as he blinked back at you, seemingly confused at your outburst, “I’m just doing my job.”
“I’ve had massages before, that was not–… that right there was something else. That was not you doing your job, that was your hands being persuaded by your dick.”
A nervous breath then escaped his lungs before he uttered, “you do know what kind of massage this is, right?” to which you only blinked back at him all the same, none of your shock evaporation at his words, “you know that I’m here to give you more than just a regular massage?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh boy, I’m sorry, I thought you knew…” his glance fell to the floor as he then began to enlighten, “well, the lotus wellness center, where I work, specializes in the blend of not just physical and mental health, but also sexual health and satisfaction. An erotic massage, like the one you were signed up for, is one of the many services we offer.”
Your eyes had grown as wide as saucers during his explanation, “o-oh…”
“I totally understand if you wanna stop, if you’re not interested.”
“I–…” you tried to make heads or tails of the situation you found yourself in, “so you were gonna–, what? Fuck me?”
“I was gonna try and make you feel good, help you relax and unwind. You were signed up for the aurelia treatment which would involve me using my hands to pleasure you, as well as whatever toys you might be interested in.”
“Toys?”
“Yes, I have a generous collection with me,” he briefly gestured back to the duffle bag resting on the couch.
“Okay, uhm…” one of your palms came down to brush over your features as you fought to comprehend it all.
“Do you want me to pack up and go?” you heard him ask.
Slowly, ever so slowly, before you even realized it was moving, you shook your head. Letting your gaze flutter back up to find his, you exhaled lowly, “fuck…”
“I can also just give you a completely traditional massage if that’s what you want.”
“…and if I wanna try the other thing?” you nearly whispered.
“Do you?”
“I–…” you tried to speak, though couldn’t find the words and ended up just hazily nodding back at him.
“Alright,” he gently mirrored the nod that still faintly rocked your head, “I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise. You just say the word, okay?”
“Okay,” you breathed, shivering slightly at the tingle of goosebumps that spread across your flesh.
The way he held your gaze a moment longer before shifting it to the massage table you still sat upon made you feel as if you might melt off it entirely.
“Lay back down,” he faintly nodded to the bench.
Your eyes stayed glued on him long after you now layed sprawled out on your back.
Letting his touch graze the sheet you still absentmindedly clutched to your chest, he asked, “do you wanna keep this on?”
“No,” you shook your head faintly, “you can remove it.”
“Okay,” he gently peeled the fabric off of you, “just say if you get cold, alright?”
“Mhm,” you hummed, still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fantasy you found yourself in.
He began by working at your arms, tenderly spreading some oil across them and massaging down the length of them, one at a time, till his skilful fingers descended to work at your palms. It nearly felt as if he was merely holding your hand before he tossed you into the deep end with how intimate the simple beginning sensed.
You couldn’t command your gaze to leave his visage as you traced his every move as if he was made of stardust.
When his warmth let go of your hand, he reached for the bottle of oil that didn’t have a pump and unscrewed the top. Your bottom lip got caught by your teeth as he then poured a bit out over your stomach, curving the s-waves of droplets all the way up and across your boobs, dripping over your pebbly nipples as they stared back at him.
As Bucky began to rub it in, he first stared softly down at your belly before swooping up, only to skip over your tits entirely and instead yanking a disappointed whimper from your lungs as he then commenced massaging your shoulders.
You felt a bit lightheaded as you blinked up at him, all tall and broad, looming above your head and digging his warm touch into the base of your neck.
Though when his rough palms finally did swoop down to caress your soft peaks, he quietly checked in, “this okay?” to which you simply nodded your head, eyebrows knitting together at the intenseness of the built-up anticipation.
Your entire chest cage heaved beneath his touch as he finally massaged your boobs, even occasionally fleeting away to ghost across your nipples, only to capture them in a pinch the next moment.
You felt as if you were floating down a calm stream, letting the river of sin take you somewhere new and wonderful.
Eventually, his broad palms swept up and down your form, though each time his reach dared to near your core, he barely touched you at all, missing entirely the spots that throbbed for attention, which of course only caused the sensation to deepen and render you even more desperate from his teasing.
When he then shifted to stand to the side of the patted table, his deep voice washed over you once more as his touch stayed warm against your skin.
“Everything okay so far?”
“Yeah…” you hummed as you lazily blinked up at him, and the soft smile that curved your lips caused a similar one to bloom upon his own.
His slow stride then carried him further down till his fingers began to dent the softness of your thighs.
After he’d made your eyes flutter at the way he worked at the muscles in your legs, focusing on one thigh at a time, slowing working his way up till his fingertips stretched to dizzily brush against your outermost petals, it was then, that his sweeps grew and blossomed till one fleeting tease to your centre morphed into more as he kept coming back, each fluttering time slowly transforming till the maddening pets had become everything you’d dreamed of.
Soft whimpers flowed out of your lungs as he gently folded each of your legs up by your sides and cracked you wide open for him.
As he gazed down at you with such intensity you’d never experienced before, it only took one step for him to change his angle and stand tall next to your hips.
Letting his palms run up your inner thighs, the edges of each of his broad thumbs then met and joined on either side of your pussy as he captured it in a light pinch, making you moan softly, “fuck….” as his touch rolled your clit through your glistening puff.
You nearly didn’t catch it because of how hard your own pants were, but Bucky’s own breaths had picked up as well and with a few stray curses seeping through his teeth as he continued to pluck at the strings of your pleasure.
But then, before you could truly lose yourself to the ecstasy you felt flicking in your periphery, his hands slipped away, a smirk fast on his lips as a whine escaped you and he returned his attention to the rest of your body. Though thankfully, his torture only carried on a short moment before he finally granted you the first of many treats.
“Oh, yeah,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rubbed your clit and carried you over the peak.
“Right there?” he leaned down closer to you as he kept up his pace, his free hand coming to rest right beside your head as he loomed over you.
“Yeah,” you breathlessly panted as your body trembled beneath his touch.
“Yeah?” he huskily echoed, nearly sharing your breath as he drew out your orgasm for as long as he could, and even as your body began to squirm at the sensitivity that swiftly set in, his touch never left you, only lightened to make it bearable and tickle you back from the high.
He studied your features fiercely as his fingers then came down to tease your entrance.
“How about this?” your leaky hole swallowed up the two digits he swiftly filled it with, “how’s that? Is that what you want?”
“Oh fuck!” your back briefly arched and lifted you off the table, closer to him for but a moment as sloppy sounds of your want echoed at the slow rhythm he played you at.
“Or do you need a little more maybe?” he sneaked another finger inside, “huh?” his frame then bent down till you could feel his hot breath fan across your face, “what do you want? You want something more to make you feel good right here?” his fingers slid back out of your pussy and fluttered up till they found your puffy pearl, “or here?” he briefly soared back down to plug up your cunt once more, but only offered you one messily rock before his digits slipped back out and drifted down much further than you expected, “or maybe even here?” you let out a gasp as the slick pads of his fingers glided over your little rosebud.
“I–, I–,” you struggled to answer him, feeling so foggy that you might just fall off the table, “fuck…”
“I have any toy you could dream of with me,” he purred as your grip found his shirt for support, “so, what do you want?”
“I want–, I want–”
“What?” he pushed as he continued to stare down into your eyes.
And as blinked back at him, only one wish came to mind, one that you timidly whispered, “y-you…”
But as fear began to prickle at your nerves, they all dissipated as the masseuse wasn’t offended at all, your words somehow conjuring a dazzled smile to appear upon his lip before he then chuckled warmly, “roll over for me.”
You nearly gave yourself whiplash from the hast you tried to fulfil his command.
As he soon kneeled down to be on level with where your head was now twisted and resting on its side, his hand drifted up for you to spot the dildo clutched in his grasp.
Handing it off to your flicking fingers, his touch briefly lingered on your cheek, stroking it softly as he said, “then pretend this is me, will you? Get it nice and sloppy for me.”
When you began to plant pecks across the silicon, your eyes shadowed him as far as they could as he straightened back up and walked back far enough to disappear from your sight, only for you to know where he’d gone to once you felt his mouth begin to devour you whole.
It became difficult to concentrate on the task he’d given you, so much so that he had to remind you each time his lavish tongue buried between your legs caused your own to forget itself.
Arching your ass further up towards his efforts, he tilted away from your drooling cunt and instead nipped up till he lapped against your other hole.
“Oh, that feels really good,” you moaned around the dildo as you tried to catch a glimpse of him, though only saw the edge of one of his hands and they dented your bottom.
“Yeah?” he let a dollop of spit drop to your rosebud before he nudged the pad of a thumb against it, “you like having this little hole played with?”
“Uh-huh,” you nodded, then watched as he momentarily dipped away to snatch up a butt plug from the zipped-open treasure trove his bag was.
Once the toy was snugly buried within your little ass, he snatched the dildo out of your mouth and a string of your drool chased the silicone as he brought it back to tap against the sloppy petals of your pussy.
It didn’t take very long after he’d begun to fuck you with the toy that you tumbled over the edge once more, making you that much more malleable when he yanked at your legs and manhandled you down to the bottom of the bench till your unsteady feet were once again on the floor and he had you bent over the table like a needy whore.
That was also when your weak pleas began to bubble out, begging for him to fill you up with something other than a toy.
Even though you couldn’t see his face, you swore you heard a tinge of astonishment in his tone when he asked you to clarify, making sure it really was him that had you begging and not just the way he made you feel.
Though once you finally managed to convey the sincerity of your words and convince him of the way he and not just the acts he was performing, drove you wild, it was in the middle of chasing your next high that he broke his pattern and traded out the dildo with his own hard cock.
A low moan seeped across your spine as he buried his length completely and let himself melt down against your back. Letting himself savour the sweetness of your warmth clenching around his fat girth, it took him a while before he finally began to move and soon found a steady pace that had your toes curling against the floorboards.
His fingers gently dug into the soreness still remaining all down your back as his hips repeatedly collided with the plush of your ass in desperate thrusts. Though as his digits worked their way down the length of your spine, they eventually found the little plug that still remained in your ass.
Teasingly twisting the toy, you thought that was everything he had planned, though all of those fantasies fluttered away when he suddenly yanked the small plug out and switched it with the bigger toy still firm in his grasp, your little hole only managing to wink up at him before he stuffed it full once more.
You lost track of the amount of times he made you cum as the remainder of the intense dance became a bit of a blur. At one point he had you flipped around and lying on your back, gasping up at him as he folded you in half and nearly broke the massage table beneath you from how hard his deep strokes were. At the next, the dildo he drove you mad with was traded out with his own fat cock and he conjured a vibrating wand to hold against your puffy clit as he watched your pussy leak from the bliss. But at the end, once you were nothing more than a puddle on the table, his load painted against your tits as he let his frame drape down atop of yours, a hazy question left your lips.
“Is that usually how that goes?” you asked as you both panted, plastered against one another.
Raising himself up only enough for his eye to catch your own, he uttered sincerely, “no…” and his gaze flickered down towards your lips, “no, it is not…” before he let himself give you the thing you hadn’t dared to request. The kiss was so sweet it nearly caused you to forget the sinful acts you’d just wrapped up.
© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble
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.”
Tag List 🏷
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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."
Fake texts au- pt.12 bffs with the rookies+ Monaco for one, please!
Literally love the way anyone older than them has to be the babysitter 😭😭😭
| Masterlist |
The week you spent with Oscar and Logan was perfect in every way possible. You woke up with perhaps the worst backache you'd ever had, almost unable to breathe because Logan had shited his entire weight on you... well, that part wasn't perfect but the dinner you had afterwards made up for every ache and pain.
Oscar's mum made every favourite dish of yours and Logans, leaving a very jealous Oscar but at the end of the day, the three of you fell into the same routine you did as kids.
Sleeping late, Waking up even later and eating junk till you couldn't eat anymore (much to the dismay of their trainers) the only different thing is that all three of you couldn't bunk on the same bed. So you took turns, as suggested by Oscar's mother because your first idea was to fight for a spot on the bed.
But sadly, the week had ended and you had to leave, you hugged Logan and Oscar goodbye and made your way to Monaco, where you'd spend the rest of the summer vacation with Arthur.
He'd invited you not wanting to be alone while his brothers had their girlfriends and the last time he'd invited one of his friends from Prema, his mom had pulled him aside and given him the 'you know you can tell me anything, right, son?' he'd simply told her that he was just a friend, and anyways she should have been having the conversation with Charles anyway, with whatever he had going with Max, or with Carlos or Pierre.
You were a little nervous to go, never having been around his family before. You'd met Charles before and had become pretty good friends with him and Max but his mom? His Eldest brother? That was a whole other story.
He picked you up at the airport, drove you to the house, you offered to uber as you weren't allowed to drive in Monaco anymore (its a long story) when you walked in you hadn't realised everyone would be over and were currently on Arthur's back trying to get your phone back for the boy, which he had stolen when he saw the picture of you and Logan, oscar had sent you.
You looked around the room to find Charles, his girlfriend, his eldest brother, and their mother, staring at the two of you with wide eyes.
You jumped off your friends' back, snatching your phone in the process, "Um, hi, I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all!" You smiled hugging Charles and shaking hands with everyone else, trying to ignore your entrance.
"I'll go get the bags, yeah," he muttered as he left, his eldest brother following him.
"Maman, C'est une amie d'Arthur, celle dont je t'ai parlé," (Mom, She's one of Arthur's friends, the one I told you about), Charles said something to his mother in French, you tried to decipher with whatever Arthur had taught you over the years but they spoke too fast.
"Celui qui l'a emmené faire la fête?" (The one who took him to party?) She replied, her voice displaying disappointment, making the girl awkwardly standing next to the door frown at Charles for translation.
"Maman..." Charles began but his mother shushed him, making him look down.
Suddenly, the older woman's face and body language changed, doing a total 180, "Y/n, I've heard a lot about you, from Arthur and Charles!" She said with a smile, making the girl slightly jump in surprise, "Come on, sit, the boys will get your bags," she invited the youngest woman to sit and nodded at Charles to help get the bags, he wanted to protest but was nudged in the ribs by Alexandra, making him walk out in betrayal.
"Uh, hi guys," she said awkwardly feeling a little out of place. She felt like she was in front of a jury assessing her every move to give her life in prison and by the look on the mother's face, they were leaning in favour of the death penalty.
"Hi, Y/n," Alexandra began, quickly leaning forward as soon as her boyfriend left the house, " I've seen you around the paddock before, but mostly in Mclaren and Williams," She began, "I thought you were dating Oscar, right? Or Logan?" She asked making the girl cringe, she couldn't imagine dating one of her friends.
"Um, no, we're just friends, all four of us," she explained, this is so weird.
"And what about the hyper little British one?" Pascale asked making you laugh,
"Lando? I'm going to save his name like that from now on!" You smiled, "No, no, not at all, I think he's a little too invested in Carlos to even think about dating," you joked hoping to change the conversation, Alexandra smiled but Pascale remained unchanged.
"I've noticed, he's a sweet boy," she nodded, "Are you dating my son?" She asked, not sugarcoating anymore, making you choke on your spit, Alexandra quickly rushed to your side, patting your back.
"Thank you," you took the glass of water she offered, "I'm not dating Arthur!" You yelled as soon as you finished drinking the water, making his mother look at you suspiciously at first then nod.
"Thank you for being truthful Y/n," She began, "My kids are everything to me and they only have me to protect them. Lorenzo and Charles are old enough to understand just how cruel life can be, but Arthur's still naive," she explained slowly. It seemed like Alex had heard the same lecture too.
"Maman! Tell Charlie to stop kicking me!" Arthurs's voice rang as the trio stepped inside, proving her point.
"Maman, please, both of them won't shut up!" Lorenzo complained at his brother's antics, in true older sibling fashion.
"Only because you are stupid," Both Arthur and Charles replied at the same time making the eldest groan and place your bag down, to swat the others. Charles had your duffle and Arthur held your haversack, currently using it as a weapon to hit his brothers.
"Boys!" Their mother called out, making them all stop and pick up your bags, and carry them to some room in the house. Alexandra smiled at their antics and Pascale just shook her head.
"Sweetheart, come on, let's have some dinner, I'm sure the flight has you hungry and tired," She practically dragged you to the dinner table. You sat next to Arthur, Alex and Charles in front of you and Lorenzo and Pascle and either head of the table.
After the strange test of sorts, everything was normal, you joked along with the others, and the brothers often fought making you and Alex look at each other and laugh. You were getting along with her the most, being quite close in age and humour. However, as the night continued the jet lag became more and more of a problem.
Arthur was the first to notice your head falling as you sat, "Maman, We are going to turn in," you both began to get up but Lorenzo spoke up, making you stop.
" Où penses-tu aller?" (Where do you think you're going?) The older man asked.
"Ma chambre ?" (My room?) Arthur answered.
"Non, elle couche avec Alexandra, tu restes avec Charlie," (No, she's sleeping with Alexandra, you're staying with Charlie) He replied making both brothers angry.
They started talking over each other, yelling and shouting, you definitely made out more than one curse word. You looked over at Alex silently asking if she knew what was happening, but she just shrugged.
"You're so annoying, Lorenzo, Je jure devant Dieu que j'aurai une chambre d'hôtel !" (I swear to God I will get a hotel room!) He screamed making everyone quiet down.
"Don't yell at me, it was maman's idea," he looked at his brothers a little guiltily, making everyone look towards the eldest woman on the table.
"It's okay, Charlie, reste avec ta petite amie, Arthur soit avec ton ami." (Charlie, stay with your girlfriend, Arthur be with your friend.) Everyone seemed to be okay with the decision, though you didn't know what the decision was.
Arthur patted your shoulder, making you get up and follow him to his room. As soon as you walked in you kicked your shoes off, falling face-first on the soft king-sized bed. He followed suit, dropping himself on the opposite end of the bed, and turning his head to face you.
"I don't think your brother and mum like me very much, Princie," You spoke in a soft voice, too tired to even sit up.
"Nah, they are just over-protective," he answered, his voice nothing but a whisper.
Slowly your eyes drifted shut, letting yourself succumb to sleep.
"Bonne nuit, chérie."
Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat
😂😂
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
Alonso Shenanigans
Fernando Alonso x Reader
Summary: Mamá has business to attend, and Fernando is left to watch his son and get a hold of his whereabouts.
Word count: 1.8k
Tags: female reader, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, dad!Nando, silly little slice of life, not beta read
Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader
Note: Another bite sized fluffy Nando fic, because I think about that one thing he said about finding happiness in becoming a father at least four times a week. Comments and feedback are appreciated xx
“Are you sure, love?” You asked again, nervous, watching as Fernando carried Alejandro attached to his hip.
“Yes, I’m sure, will you be back later today?” Fernando asked, as Ale played with his father’s hair, mumbling a little lullabye.
“Yes, in around three hours,” you said, kissing the top of Ale’s head, then pecking Fernando’s lips, “I’m really sorry, this meeting came out of nowhere, I promise I’ll make it up to you when-”
“Amor, it’s ok,” Fernando interrupted, “Go, we’ll behave and wait for you.”
It was just media day, but unfortunately a last minute meeting at your company needed to happen, and you’d have to leave your husband and kid alone in the paddock so you could go back to the hotel to attend the meeting online.
“Love you two to the moon and back!” You said, scurrying off.
“Mamá!” Alejandro asked, suddenly noticing his mother’s absence, and getting fussy.
“Mamá had to work, we’re going to have a lot of fun together today!” Fernando said, putting him on the floor, and holding his hand.
He took Alejandro all around, when he went to talk with the mechanics about the last update to his car, when he went to take a few pictures, recording a few marketing stuff, here and there. Everyone knew Alejandro as “Little Alonso”, his tiny feet padding around, his head full of disheveled brown wavy hair, and eyes that were pretty much the same as his father. He was always around, pointing at his dad’s car, muttering gibberish half in spanish and half in english, he also liked walking to the engineers pulling on their shirts to get their attention so he could ask for a headphone.
At the age of four and a half, Alejandro was a known face around the paddocks, always asking questions and waiting to know about everyone’s business.
“Papá, I’m hungry!” Alejandro patted his own belly, which made his dad chuckle.
“Ok, we’re getting food, campeoncito,” Fernando muttered, leading his son to his room. Inside, he rummaged through all his bags, searching for his snacks and juice bottle.
He ended up sitting beside Alejandro in the cafeteria, the little boy munching in a pot of cut fruits, a bag of chips, and a mango juice. Alejandro talked about everything, asking about the people and the colors, and why everything was where it was.
Eventually, Fernando had a meeting, so he set a little playing mat to Alejandro on the floor of the meeting room, where he put his son’s toys, paper and crayons.
“Papá, yo quiero inside your car!” Ale asked, as Fernando placed him on the little mat.
“I’ll take you to sit in my car as soon as we finish here, yes? Just sit tight and I’ll be really fast. Do you want to play with your toys, or paint a little? Come on,” Fernando took a crayon and started drawing, looking over his shoulder to see his engineers and strategists getting inside, sitting down, opening their laptops and notes. Nobody batted an eye to Fernando kneeling on the floor, convincing his kid to sit quietly. Everyone was used to the Alonsos’ shenanigans.
Finally, after making sure Alejandro was still on the mat, under his sight, Fernando went on and started the meeting.
It took something between 20 and 30 minutes until it was over, and when Fernando went to pick Alejandro, he noticed his little boy wasn’t there anymore, and the door was slightly ajar. Muttering every curse word he could think of, he bolted outside. Alejandro had become a little menace in escaping rooms now that he was tall enough to tiptoe and reach a door handle.
“Have you seen Alejandro?” He stopped a couple of the staff in the hall to ask. They just shook their heads. He went to the garage, and stopped the whole team of mechanics, his heart beating faster than it did when racing, “Have you guys seen Alejandro?”
“He walked past with Lance a few minutes ago,” Someone said, pointing outside. Fernando breathed again, ok, at least he wasn’t alone, roaming around and in danger.
Striding forward, Fernando kept looking for his teammate and his son, and eventually ended up in Ferrari. He walked inside to ask Carlos if he had seen the little boy, but he stopped short when he noticed a tiny hand print made with what looked like grease on the livery of the 55 Ferrari, and the letters “ALE” written sloppily with the very same black grease.
“Oh, mierda,” he whispered. Carlos noticed him, walking up to Fernando with a smile.
“Ale was just here with Lance, we talked for a couple of seconds, and when we looked, he had his hand printed on the car,” Carlos explained, as Fernando winced.
“Lo siento, Carlos. Do you know where they might have gone?” He asked.
“Well, Lance said he was going to wash Ale’s hands. So, back to Aston Martin, maybe?” Carlos shrugged.
Fernando went back to his garage, looking for Lance and Alejandro. Finally, he found Lance using a cloth to dry his hands. He smiled and waved at Fernando, who quickly went up to him.
“Is Alejandro with you?” Fernando asked.
“Oh, he saw George walking by, ran up to him and they both bolted together. I have no idea where they went. Sorry.” Lance muttered.
Fernando walked out again, going to the Mercedes motorhome to find his son once again. Honestly, everyone loved Alejandro way more than they loved Fernando, he was pretty sure, and the little boy was frankly a menace all around. If he found someone like George to match his energy, they would go around causing trouble to everyone.
At the Mercedes motorhome, he found Lewis staring curiously at a bowl of fruits.
“Hey, have you seen Alejandro? Lance said he and Geor-” Fernando stopped himself when he got closer to the table where the bowl of fruits sat.
“Well, for sure they’ve been here,” Lewis muttered, holding an apple, showing how the fruit had one single bite taken off. One little bite which Fernando knew very well who that dental arch belonged to. There was a bite on the apple, the banana, the pear, the peach and every single fruit there.
“¡Ay, dios mio! I’m sorry about this!” Fernando whispered, “I need to find them before him and George set the whole paddock on fire.”
Fernando walked out, knowing that George was probably going to look for Alex or Lando, who would probably support their little mischief around. He found Williams garage first, where he found a laughing Logan Sargeant picking up what looked like hundreds of little pieces of lego. And Fernando knew his kid, and knew he loved throwing things to the floor to make a mess.
“That’s Alejandro’s doing, right?” Fernando asked, wide eyed. Logan nodded and explained how the little boy had been there with George to taunt Alex after throwing his lego piece to the floor and scattering all the tiny pieces. Fernando helped Logan pick up the pieces from the floor.
“The three of them left, saying they had to prank Lando too,” Logan told Fernando, when they finished.
Fernando ran off, walking to McLaren, where he found Lando washing off his hair which was tangled in pink play dough, and George was trying to help him. Standing a little far behind, Alex had Alejandro sitting on his shoulders, the two of them giggling with Oscar.
“Alejandro didn’t do that, did he?” Fernando asked, worried and getting angry.
“No, no!” George was quick, “that was an accident on my part!”
“Yeah, little Alonso is innocent on this!” Lando added. Fernando squinted, not sure if he fully believed that, since Fernando himself had gone through something similar with Alejandro and his play dough.
“Look, any kind of oil will remove that from your hair,” Fernando patted his back, walking to his kid.
Alex gave him Alejandro, who Fernando decided was best to keep attached to him, not letting the little boy out of his sight again.
“Green! Verde, verde!” Alejandro was exclaiming to Alex.
“What is going on, pollito?” Fernando asked.
“He asked me to paint my hair green next time,” Alex explained, showing his blonde hair.
“And you agreed?” Fernando frowned.
“Yeah, whatever little Alonso wants, little Alonso gets,” Alex shrudded, laughing and pinching Alejandro chubby cheeks.
“You guys spoil him too much!” Fernando shook his head, waving goodbye and taking Alejandro back to his garage, “now I understand why mamá wants to buy a little backpack leash for you, little troublemaker.”
Alejandro held his face, looking into his eyes, then hugging him tight, which made Fernando’s annoyance from having to chase his son around completely dissolve, and he melted, hugging his boy. He could never get angry with his cute little man, especially when he reminded him so much of his younger self.
“Papá? Where’s Mamá?” Alejandro asked, looking around.
“Mamá is coming back soon, pollito,” he whispered, kissing his son’s cheek, “I’m missing her too.”
Fernando didn’t lose sight of Alejandro anymore, and when he had to leave for the press conference with other drivers, he left his PR manager to watch Alejandro while you had not come back. He was sitting on the sofa, answering questions but he still could watch Alejandro in a little chair on the opposite side of the room, beside the manager.
At some point, he noticed Alejandro getting fussy and pouty from staying in the same place alone for too long and looking fairly sleepy, Fernando could tell from one look.
“Alejandro,” Fernando called into the mic, the little boy looked around, hearing his dad’s voice, finally, he set his eyes on Fernando and jumped from the chair, “vente aquí.”
The boy took off, running towards his dad, eliciting a little “aw” from the journalists, and a lot of cameras following him until he got to his father, sitting on his lap, nuzzling into Fernando’s chest.
Fernando kept answering questions, and in a couple off minutes, Alejandro was fully asleep. Everyone started talking a little lower, as to not disturb the little one who was sleeping so calmly on his dad’s chest.
When the press conference was over, Fernando carried Alejandro inside his room, keeping his son on his lap, while he went through some data.
Finally when you came back, you found Alejandro on Fernando’s chest, his dad holding him tight while both of them took a little nap, looking so much like each other that it warmed your heart. You kissed both of their heads, running your fingers through Fernando’s hair to wake him up.
“Let’s go back to the hotel, so my pretty boys can eat and rest properly, yes?” You said, kissing Fernando softly, his eyes shining with so much adoration that he didn’t need to say the words, you could see the I love you. “Did you two behave?”
“Like angels!” Fernando winked, which told you that they probably had some Alonso Shenanigans today.
Unexpected Meetings
Alessia Russo x reader fic
-> The reader forgets Alessia's team bonding and bursts into the room, her teammates don't know about the reader
➳ Masterlist
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
Alessia had been at the Arsenal Women’s Football Club for about three weeks now. She was settling in nicely. The girls were welcoming and happy to have her, most of them already familiar with each other in one way or the other.
Every Friday there was a team bonding session, those were quite helpful for the new girls to get to know the team and form friendships. The blonde had offered a movie night at her place for this week's ‘Team Date’ as she liked to call them.
None of the girls had been around to her place after the move. It was her family and Ella who helped her move. Oh – and you of course! Being the striker’s girlfriend of just shy of two years you were living with her. So, it was not only the blonde's move, but yours as well, being offered a position as a teacher at one of London’s many schools. It could not have been more perfect.
You knew that the girls were going to be at your apartment, you really did. A co-worker of yours, a quick new friend offering you a place to stay for the night. But somehow, you forgot.
The girls were arriving at your apartment, one after the other, getting comfortable on the large couch Alessia had insisted on buying as you moved in. The floor in front of the TV had been covered with a mattress as well as a mountain of blankets and pillows.
“Less this place is incredible. Just look at your kitchen, man!” Beth was in awe of the apartment. To be fair you had put a lot into making it as comfortable and homey as possible for the both of you.
“Yeah w- I am really happy with it.” With a deep blush, she was hoping, that no one noticed the deep blush on her face. And no one did – except the ever so attentive Leah Williamson.
“It is quite big though Less. Don’t you get lonely?” The Italian sputtered out some weird response about getting a dog to fill the void.
“Where is your bathroom then Russo?” Katie had been suspecting nothing to this point, but it was in the bathroom, where she noticed it. Two toothbrushes, towel sets, and bathrobes. Upon further inspection, she noticed the many shoes in the cabinet, many of them with heels and a lot smaller than the sneakers that undoubtedly belonged to her teammate.
The brunette saw Alessia’s gaze, wary of her wandering around her apartment. Then her eyes fell to Leah who had a subtle smirk on her face. “Oy, Viccy! Change with me, would ya?”
And just like that McCabe had gotten what she wanted, leaning close to Leah. “When do ya reckon she’ll tell us?”
The blonde shrugged. Carefully she pushed aside the fringe that had fallen into her eyes, once again. “We’ll see.”
Meanwhile: You have had a shit night. The school was holding a teacher conference until late in the evening wanting to discuss changes in the school. You had not even been there for longer than three weeks and you were already starting fights with misogynistic, homophobic, old, white men.
With all of that still fresh on your mind, you could not wait to tell Lessi everything. The footballer understood that you did not need or want solutions, you needed someone to be angry with you and still hold you when you cried.
And she could do that incredibly well.
In a hurry you threw the apartment door open, it was freezing outside and you could not wait to fall into bed with your girlfriend. How you did not notice the massive number of shoes in your hallway, you still do not understand to this day.
It was quiet, aside from a movie blaring from the TV. Alessia liked her movies and shows, always having something on in the background. “Less! You won’t believe what happened, baby!”
Hastily you threw your coat onto the bench, stumbling over one of your own shoes. The woman in question shot up in her position on the couch, as did every other woman in the room, looking at her with wide eyes, but keeping quiet.
“That old twat Mister Grimm, or whatever-“ you were out of breath stumbling over your words, still loaded with anger, “said, that it is ‘okay for boys to slack off but girls need to work even harder’.”
An angry huff could be heard from the hallway, where you were fighting with your scarf, not finding the way out of it. “And he wants the girls' grading to be harsher, because ‘boys need more concentration to pay attention than the girls’”, while Alessia couldn’t see you yet, she could imagine the air quotes you were inevitably doing – her teammates were quite amused by your annoyance, but interested nonetheless.
“What does that even mean? How can someone be so-“ By that point you had wandered into the living room, at least twenty women were looking at you.
Fuck.
You had forgotten Alessia’s team night. “
Less I am so sorry.” The blonde however wasn’t even mad (or surprised).
“It’s fine baby, I wanted to introduce you to them anyways – just made it easier.” She stood up, hugging you close to her. “C’mon Russo! Don’t be shy, give ya missus a kiss!” It was Katie who found her words first, wanting to embarrass the Italian.
But Alessia was not as bashful as expected, and instead pulled you into a bruising, passionate kiss – her teammates cheering in the background, hollering at the two of you. After pulling away, because you were still out of breath due to your ranting, she mumbled a quick “I missed ya, amore.”
Now it started to sink in, the reality of standing in front of the entirety of the Arsenal girls, who didn’t even know you existed up until now. Alessia however was beaming next to you, swaying your joined hands between you. “Guys, this is my girlfriend. Baby, these are my teammates.”
“Hi. Nice to meet you guys.”
It was silent for a second, but it was Caitlyn who started the conversation – “So what did that Mister Grimm say?”
Just hours later Alessia could not help but smile – you were cuddled on top of her, in a deep conversation with Lotte, next to her, about some book both of you had read.
This day could not have been better if she tried. She was home.
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
liked by stanwaygeorgia and 44.331 others
alessiarusso99: Team-Bonding Movie Night style!
Roommates (stucky x reader)
3767 words
A/N: i'm writing this fic for...almost 6 months, i dreamed many times of stucky and their roommate. it was always hard to write i had seen in my dreams and to translate all i felt during those dreams. But here we are.
It's gonna be in idk many parts.
This one is a little introduction, and with slight angst.
Enjoy,
Cloudy
TW: fluff, light angst, polyamourous relationship. Steve and Bucky (they're a warning...) <...>= texting
Don't be shy, reblog, comment, like!
magnificient moodboard by the amazing @christywantspizza
divider by the talentuous : @firefly-graphics
not beta read, english is not my first language, all mistakes are my own.
Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3
When you had to find an apartment. You never thought to find yourself with two gentle giants for roommates. But here you are, one year later with Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers in a nice and homely appartement.
You knew them from college, they were friends of friends and when your last roommate kicked you out because she wanted to be alone with her boyfriend… the two big guys were nice enough to propose you to come and live with them for a while. “Yeah, don’t need to pressure yourself, doll, take your time to get back on your feet. We have enough rooms for three.”, told you Bucky. “And when you find a studio or something else, we’ll help you to move out and in, sweetheart.”, said Steve.
But one year later, you don’t want to move out. You like to be here with these two. Monday is Buck’s night for cooking. Tuesday, yours, Wednesday is Steve turns, Thursday is movie night with take outs or leftovers and Friday to Sunday is more like “who’s there, who’s eating at home, who wants to go out?” vibes.
Life is easy, and you were surprised to see that…they clean, like ALL the time. Steve is the tidiest of all of you. Buck tries to keep is mess in his bedroom and ask for help when he has too much “trash”. Sunday is almost always the day where you all clean the appartement. You cook pancakes or waffles and then it’s time to give the appartement a little bit of a makeover. It’s always full of giggles and pinning. Like the time you found a boxer under the couch. Bucky was a blushing mess, saying it was from like two weeks ago when this girl came home with him after a night out. “But I respected the rules, we didn’t do anything on the couch”. Or the time, Steve found your vibrator under the bathroom cabinet, you just took it back and gave him an innocent smile and told him to forget about it. Spoiler alert: Steve didn’t forget that and was impatient to finally have the guts to ask you if you wanted to use it with him one day.
Today, it’s Friday. It’s the first slow day you have in weeks. Steve is out with some friends and Bucky didn’t answer yet to tell you if he’ll be home tonight.
You decide to eat some leftovers and to watch for the hundredth time your favourite movie. Thirty minutes in, you hear the keys and then the door opens with a loud thud. An angry Bucky storms in the living room and lay on you without saying a word. He pushes his head between your breasts and groans. “Ok, hello to you too grumpy man. Can you tell me why you invade my space and doesn’t ask for my consent before shoving your head here?” Bucky starts to mumble fast, and you don’t understand anything. You slap him gently on the back of his head. He stops and lifts his head to look at you. “Shitty day, shitty people. Need a stress relief. May I, doll, please?” he pouts and makes his best puppy eye.
Since you arrived, you realised that the two giants you lived with were very into physical touch. Bucky likes to lay on you meanwhile Steve likes to play with your hair during movie night or offers you little massages during them.
You never complain, you’re most of the time cold so this two are your personals heaters.
You start to massage Bucky’s head and this lovely idiot starts to act like a cat and purrs. “Did you eat?” he asks you.
“Yup, leftovers, there’s still some if you want.”
“The lasagna?”.
“Mmmh”.
The evening goes on. But you can feel that Bucky wants to ask you something. He’s fidgeting, more than usual, and can’t seem to stop touching you. He’s currently massaging your calf. “What is it, Buck?”.
He sighs, and sighs again before sitting up and looking you dead in the eye. “Can I kiss you, doll?”. First, you think he’s joking, but then his expression is too serious for your liking. “Like kiss me on the lips?”, you ask him.
“Yup.”
“WHY?” you almost scream in shock.
He blushes and whispers “because you look beautiful, and I want to kiss you”.
“that’s a cheesy pick-up line, Barnes.”
He looks at you again and asks, “but does it work?” shyly you nod. You won’t lie, you already thought of what it would feel like to kiss Bucky, but you never really asked him, too scared to make thing awkward with your roommates. “So can I kiss you, doll face?” when you don’t say anything he gets closer, when his lips are almost touching yours, he murmurs “I need words, Y/N”.
You swallow loudly before saying “yes, you can, Bucky”.
Then his lips are on yours. The kiss is tender, lovely and your fingers grab his hair. His hands get under your shirt, and you shiver. You feel his tongue caresses your lower lips and you parted them. When both or your tongues meet, the kiss gets more and more passionate. Your legs circle instinctively his waist to bring him closer. When you need to breath you break the kiss and Bucky is panting above you. Pupils blown out and lips swollen. He’s more beautiful than ever. You smile, a little bit uncomfortable. You tap his cheek gently and whisper “gonna go to toilets, sorry”. He nods and lets you go.
Bucky can’t wait to tell Steve what happened.
Two weeks later, Bucky has never once talk about the kiss… at least with you. You didn’t either. You felt weird. Not in a bad way, you wanted to start again, to try again and see if the kiss made you feel again all dizzy and warm.
But for now, you are alone with Steve. Bucky went home to see his family.
“Truth or dare, sweets?” asks Steve from the kitchen.
“Really, aren’t we like to old or outnumbered to play this game?” he snorts and come back with your cocktail and his beer.
“Nope, it’ll be fun”.
“If you say so, truth” you reply.
After maybe twenty minutes, you have to say that he is right, you’re having fun. You told secrets that both of you had never tell and you did some fun dares. But now, Steve wanted to ask you to kiss him.
He spoke with Bucky, and he was jealous. He’s best friend had the guts to kiss you, when he was too afraid to be rejected. But tonight, with the alcohol in his system he feels powerful.
“I dare you to kiss me…with tongues!”, he declares. You laugh because he made a move with his tongue, but you accept the dare. Why not try and see if your attraction for Steve is the same as for Bucky?
When your lips touch his. You feel sparkles down your spine. When you lick his lips with your tongue and he part his, you feel hot all over. His hands go to your waist, and he places you on his lap. And like with Bucky it gets heated pretty fast. And like with Bucky, you end the kiss and excuse yourself to go to the toilets
<Stevie: I did it, buck.
Bucky: how does that feel, punk?
Stevie: like a dream came true, but I don’t want to scare her. We are not playing fair.
Bucky: I know, we must discuss that the three of us when I get back.
Stevie: what if she says no. What if she wants to be just with you.
Bucky: or you…
Stevie: I am sure she likes you more.
Bucky: stop, Steve. We don’t know what she feels. Did she kiss you back? Like really kiss you.
Stevie: yup…that was so hot. She did the thing with her tongue you told me about.>
“Stevie?” you say when you come back in the living room.
“Yup?”.
“I-I think I’ll go to bed. See you tomorrow?” you ask shyly.
“Sleep well, sweetheart, brunch is on me!”. You kiss his cheek and retrieve to your bedroom.
<Y/N: I kissed Steve.
Nat: WHAT? AFTER BUCKY?
Y/N: we were playing truth or dare. He dared me to kiss him. (with tongues, his words, not mine)
Nat: and ?
Y/N: I don’t know what I am supposed to do now. I felt the exact same thing with Bucky and Steve. And you know I don’t feel much when I kissed guys until I am pretty attached to them.
Nat: yeah I know…you and your demi-sexual thing.
Y/N: scuse you bisexual girl who dates only nerds guy. How’s Bruce?
Nat: currently massagin’ my feet so perfect. But you need to talk to them. I am sure they’re planning something.
Y/N: planning smth?
Nat: ask them. Good night, babe.>
What you didn’t know, it’s that before you join them in the appartement. Bucky and Steve had a thing, that only Natasha knows. They are best friends, sure, but they’re also lovers. They only tend to be like that when you are not around, since you moved in.
You are not going to lie to yourself, you are feeling bad to have kiss your two roommates. And you are feeling worse to have like it, both time and even considering doing it again.
This Saturday, you come back from a little walk with Natasha. When you arrive, the appartement is quiet, a little bit to quiet. No one is in the living room and the door from Bucky’s room is wide open and empty, but the room from Steve is closed. You wait to hear something, like Steve has a girl around, but nothing.
You go there and knock. Steve’s voice comes to you in a grumble “yeah?”, “Hello, just to let you know I am home. “, you say.
“Oh hey, little one, ok, we’ll be there soon for dinner.”
You can’t stop your question “We?”. You hear Steve chuckles and then he invites you in.
“Buck and I, sweets, who else?” he says when you open the door.
Steve is on his back with Bucky curled onto his side, sound asleep. You saw them bro cuddling now and then, but never like that. You raise an eyebrow but don’t say anything. Bucky has hard days and seems to find comfort in cuddling. “I have an empty space right here” teases Steve and tapping the other side of him. You hesitate and decide to go and join the cuddle. You lay down beside Steve, his arm goes around your waist. You put your hand on his chest, just beside Bucky’s hand.
“He’s ok?” you ask quietly.
“Bad day, really bad one.”, answers Steve. Automatically, you caress Bucky’s cheek and pass your finger in his hair. “How was your day with Natty?”.
“Good, really nice.”, you smile at Steve.
In your walk with Nat, you arrived at this conclusion: no need to put words for now, just enjoy the feeling of being close to those two wonderful men. So, you enjoy the cuddle and to pass your fingers in Bucky hair, while Steve caress your hip. You’re at peace. You’ve never felt like this with any of your ex’s.
Maybe they talked to each other, and they know that you have kissed each of them, maybe you can tell Steve now and Bucky when he wakes up. Maybe, just maybe you are, and they are into polyamorous relationship. Maybe…
“Stevie?” you murmur in his neck, he smells divine as always, citrus and pine. He hums in response. “I…I kissed Bucky before I kissed you.” His hand still on your waist and he squeezes it.
“Yeah, same Sweetheart, I kissed him before I kissed you.” You sit up, not sure to have truly heard what he said.
“Wait, what?”. Steve grins at you, then he turns his head to Bucky and kisses him on his forehead. Buck sighs in his sleep and get more comfortable on Steve. His leg goes on his thighs, and he tightens his grip around the waist. He looks peaceful. “You’ve kissed?”, Steve shrugs but his smile tells you everything you need.
You weren’t expecting that, of course not, but why are you not more shocked or disturbed? You look at them and it’s like the missing piece of the puzzle in your head. Everything starts to make sense, or you have more questions that need answers. “I always thought that your friendship was more than that”, you think out loud. Steve chuckles while Bucky stirs in his sleep. He tucks himself more onto Steve and his hand, who was on his stomach, goes right to Steve’s crotch. And the blond does nothing to stop him, well not exactly nothing, he’s looking at you and when he sees your expression, he gently takes bucky hand et brings it back to his sternum.
“I think we need to talk the three of us, Sweets” he whispers to you. You can only nod and keep staring at their interlaced hands. “We don’t want to scare you away, you know?”,
“Scare me away?”, you ask intrigue.
“Yeah, by telling you our little secret.” You stay silent, not sure you want to acknowledge the truth just yet…because it doesn’t scare you at all, it turns you on more and that’s what scares you, you almost feel like a creep.
“I would have never judged you. You can love who you want” you finally say. Steve smiles and brings you closed once again. You put your hand on top of theirs. For the first time in a long time, you feel complete and that stress you out.
The next day, you all decide to have THE discussion. It’s just after your usual Sunday brunch. The guys are doing the dishes and you just looking in the void. Your mind is racing. What if it just a dream, what if they pranked you?
“Dollface? You’re with us?” calls you Bucky. You blink twice to focus on them again. They are smiling, and you get butterflies.
“Yeah, I am” you whisper.
“Good, good, so…” starts Steve. And then he explains everything, his relationship with Bucky, their attraction for you since they met you. You listen, stunned by their revelations. Bucky points out some details and makes you giggle. You feel shy and powerful. The more they talk, the more they stare at you with love and lust. You have the last word; you are the one who has to say yes or no. You take a big breath and ask, “How would it works?”.
They are taken aback; Bucky takes Steve’s hand under the table and squeeze it hard. “If we try this throuple, we have to make rules, right?” You sound so confident; Steve’s heart is beating fast.
“Yeah, we need rules for the start, to try and navigate in this together” states Bucky. You nod and smile. Then you get up and round the table to go to their side. You see their hands and chuckle.
“No more hiding now, show me those hands, guys”. They laugh and put their hands on the table, you place both of your hand on their neck. It feels good, you like that they don’t have the same texture, but they both soft. They lean against you and close their eyes.
“I feel like I just solved a puzzle” murmurs Bucky. “Is it weird?” he asks.
“I don’t know, don’t feel weird. “, you answer. Steve is the first to move, he stands up and takes your hand and Bucky’s and goes on the couch. He sits down and puts you on his laps. Bucky takes your calf and cuddle against Steve. One of Steve’s arms is around your waist and the other is around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky has one arm around Steve waist and the other on your legs. You put your hand on each one of them that touches you.
After a moment of silence, you ask” Can we kiss again?”.
“Yes, please” they said in unison. “I want to see you kiss” you murmur. They don’t move, Steve’s blushing, while Bucky is looking at you. You put your hands on their chins and turn their faces, so they face each other. “Please, can I see you kiss?”. Your gentle command makes them move. Slowly they approach each other lips. When they start kissing, it’s sensual, loving and you get flustered. It’s hot, you never thought that looking at two people kissing would be this sexy. Then Bucky does something that makes Steve moans. You did once or twice hear him having someone around, but he has never moaned like that. Steve’s hand on your hip squeezes your flesh. Steve breaks the kiss first; Bucky bites his lower lip.
“You turn, doll face”, growls Bucky. You expect him to kiss you, but he does the same as you did, take your chin between his fingers, and make you face Steve. You kiss the blond; you try some of your trick to make him moan like Bucky and when you succeed you break the kiss and turn your intention on Buck. He smiles at you, and you smile back, before going to kiss him. With Bucky, each of you fight for dominance. You move on Steve’s lap and after a while, you feel him getting hard under you. Suddenly the reality of the situation strikes, and you start to panic.
You get up and say, “I’m going to the toilets”. Bucky and Steve watch you go, and they try not to laugh, because they recognise a pattern there.
Your room is next to the toilets and when you go out, you look at your bed and you really want to hide yourself. But why would you hide? You take a deep breath before going back in the living room.
They are whispering to each other, Bucky seems unhappy, while Steve tries to calm him down. “hey, guys!”, they turn their heads so fast, you’re sure they’re going to bump into each other and you giggle. “ehm, sorry to ran away, could we…could we go in my room? For more privacy?”
Steve is the first to get up, Bucky looks at you strangely “privacy of what? we are the only one here” he says in a cold voice.
“Bucky” warns Steve.
You sigh and smile “No he’s right Steve. Bucky, I know that we are alone, but I would feel better and safer in my room…because it’s new to me and I need to navigate around all of that…around this new us. If that makes sense?”
Bucky relaxes and nods, standing up, “makes sense, sorry.” You wait for them to come close to you before you take each of their hand and guide them into your room.
“Where do we sleep?”, you ask.
“Let’s just say, that we can sleep on our own or together, but no pressure” answers Steve. You smile and walk into your room, sitting on your bed facing them.
Bucky is the first to go lay and waits for Steve and you. “Doll, in the middle” he commands. You giggle and do as he say, loving the few times you find yourself engulf between those two sweet giants.
Steve follows you and sighs. “Love the smell of your sheets, sweetheart”. You smile at him and blushes.
“I use the same wash as you…”, he laughs softly and kisses your cheek.
“But it still smells like you.” He boops your nose and you giggle shyly. Bucky brings you close to him, and he kisses your neck, making you shudder.
“When did you know?”, he asks you.
“When I did know what, bucky?”
“That you liked both of us”.
This question, you’ve been asking it to yourself for weeks now. But honestly, it just came along the way. The fact that they opened their home for you, that they’ve always been there since. Always have a shoulder to lay on, someone to rely on. You’ve never felt alone since you moved in here. You tell them that and they both smile, Steve strokes your cheeks and Bucky your hip. You feel safe, understood, and complete.
Then, they both lean in and kiss you. A three-way kiss, that left you breathless and panting. You look at them and you smile, stroking their chin with your thumb, loving the difference of texture. Steve is shaved, while bucky always have a three-day beard. You pass your thumb on their lips and bucky groans, pupils wide, the blue of his eyes almost inexistant.
“You’ve freed the beast”, chuckles Steve, who’s biting his lip.
“Y/N, Sweetheart?”, whispers Steve. You try to focus on him, but flashback holds you in your terror.
You look between them, and you take a shaky breath. “Oh, yeah?”. Bucky nods and starts to pempers kisses on your cheek and neck.
“Can I kiss you doll?”. You nod and he kisses you tenderly, deeply, you let him have the dominance in that kiss. It feels good, but then his hands wonder on your body, and you start to panic. Bad memories coming back to you. You try to tell him to stop, but then Steve joins him and you freeze, panic taking hold of you, and you feel hopeless, unable to tell them to stop. You whimper and they stop everything they do and look at you. Your eyes are tearing up and you’re heaving, fright written on your face.
Bucky looks at Steve and he’s panicking; the blond understands he must be stronger for both of you. “Buck, it’s okay, she must have…”, they look at each other and remembered the time you came home totally shaking and afraid. It was just before you dump your last friend with benefits.
“Rumlow”, growls Bucky. “I’m gonna end him”.
You take bucky hand and holds it tight. “don’t leave me.”
“I’m not, I’m here doll.” You nod and looks at Steve.
“I won’t either, sweetheart, I’ll stay here with you. Just take a deep breath for us?”. You nod and do some breathing exercise, following what Steve does and then Bucky when he joins in.
“So-sorry”, you murmur, unable to look at them, fiddling with your nails. One hand goes on yours and then another.
“No need to be sorry”, they said in unison, their soothing voice calming you even more.
“it’s a lot.”
“Then we take our time.”, says Steve softly.
“Yeah, you’re stuck with us now”, jokes gently Bucky and that makes you smile.
part 2
Could you make younger girlfriend x Lewis Hamilton. Maybe there are some rumours and then she visits the paddock with Lewis. The wags and drivers aren't to sure about this at first, but in the end see how happy the couple is. I know this isn't what you usually write, but it is my birthday today and it would make me ver happy. 🤭💗☺️
Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!
-xoxo babygirl 💜
Love has no age
The first time Yn had stepped into the paddock as Lewis’s official girlfriend, the buzz had been deafening. Rumors had swirled for weeks about Lewis dating someone new, and when the truth finally came out, it was all anyone could talk about.
“Did you see her? She’s so young!”
“Twenty? Isn’t there, like, a fifteen-year age gap?”
“What do they even talk about?”
Yn had tried her best to block out the whispers, clinging to Lewis’s hand as he guided her through the chaos. He’d been her rock, as always, his calming presence grounding her in the midst of all the speculation.
“They’ll come around,” Lewis whispered in her ear as they walked to his garage. “They just don’t know you yet.”
---
Yn hadn’t expected her first encounter with the other WAGs to feel so…awkward. She sat at the hospitality table, surrounded by the glamorous women who had known each other for years. They were friendly, of course, but Yn could sense their hesitation. She was the youngest by a mile, and the age gap between her and Lewis hadn’t escaped their notice.
“So, Yn,” Carmen began with a polite smile, “how are you finding the paddock life?”
Yn straightened in her chair. “It’s exciting! A bit overwhelming, but everyone’s been so welcoming.”
“Everyone?” Kelly raised an eyebrow, her tone light but pointed. “The media hasn’t exactly been kind.”
Yn hesitated, unsure how to respond, but Rebecca jumped in. “The media is never kind. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.” She offered Yn a warm smile, her hand briefly brushing against Yn’s arm in a reassuring gesture.
“Thanks,” Yn said, her voice soft but grateful. She appreciated Rebecca’s kindness, even if she still felt like an outsider.
Carmen leaned in, placing a gentle hand on Yn’s shoulder. “We’re glad you’re here. Really.”
Yn’s heart swelled at the gesture, and for the first time that day, she felt like she might actually belong.
---
By the end of the day, Yn found herself laughing with Rebecca and Carmen like they’d known each other for years. The initial awkwardness had melted away, replaced by an easy camaraderie. Carmen had an arm draped around Yn’s shoulders as they walked through the paddock, while Rebecca kept a hand on Yn’s waist, guiding her through the crowd.
“You’re stuck with us now,” Rebecca teased. “Hope you’re ready.”
“I think I can handle it,” Yn replied with a grin.
Alexandra watched them from a distance, her jaw tight. It wasn’t that she disliked Yn—she just didn’t understand how someone so young and seemingly perfect could fit in so effortlessly. The other WAGs adored her, the fans couldn’t get enough of her, and even the drivers were charmed by her sweet demeanor.
---
“Yn!” Lando called out as he approached the group, a wide smile on his face. “Finally, someone who makes me feel less like a baby here.”
Yn laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “Glad I could help.”
“She’s not that young,” Lewis interjected, stepping up behind Yn and wrapping an arm around her waist. His tone was playful, but there was a protective edge to it.
Lando raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no offense! I think it’s great. You two look happy.”
“We are,” Lewis said firmly, pressing a kiss to Yn’s temple.
The other drivers gradually joined the conversation, each of them making an effort to include Yn. Oscar cracked jokes that had her in stitches, while Charles teased her about her taste in music after overhearing her playlist. Even Max, who was usually reserved, made a point to ask her how she was finding everything.
“They like you,” Lewis whispered later as they walked back to his motorhome.
Yn looked up at him, her eyes shining. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he said, leaning down to kiss her softly. “But even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. All that matters is us.”
---
Despite the initial skepticism, it didn’t take long for Yn to win over the entire paddock. Her kindness and genuine nature were impossible to ignore, and soon, she was at the center of every conversation. The fans adored her, flooding social media with messages of support and admiration.
“She’s like a ray of sunshine,” one fan tweeted.
“No wonder Lewis is so smitten,” another wrote. “They’re perfect together.”
The attention didn’t go unnoticed by Alexandra and Kelly. Alexandra couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy every time she saw Yn surrounded by people who seemed to worship her. Kelly, on the other hand, was struggling with the fact that Yn’s presence had overshadowed her pregnancy.
“I don’t get it,” Alexandra muttered to Kelly during a quiet moment in the paddock. “What’s so special about her?”
Kelly shrugged, though her expression was tight. “She’s nice, I guess.”
“Nice doesn’t make you the center of the universe,” Alexandra snapped. But even as she spoke, she knew her frustration was misplaced. Yn hadn’t done anything wrong—if anything, she’d gone out of her way to be kind to everyone.
---
Over time, even Alexandra and Kelly couldn’t resist Yn’s charm. During a group dinner, Yn had complimented Kelly on her outfit, sparking a conversation that lasted the entire evening. By the end of the night, Kelly was laughing along with Yn and the others, her earlier resentment forgotten.
As for Alexandra, it was a quiet moment during a race weekend that changed her perspective. She’d been feeling particularly stressed, and Yn had noticed, pulling her aside to ask if she was okay.
“No one’s ever asked me that,” Alexandra admitted, her voice soft.
“Well, someone should,” Yn replied. “You’re always looking out for everyone else. It’s only fair that someone looks out for you.”
Alexandra had been taken aback, but she couldn’t deny the warmth she felt in that moment. From then on, she made an effort to be kinder to Yn, and before long, they’d developed a tentative friendship.
---
Lewis couldn’t have been happier. He loved seeing Yn thrive in the paddock, surrounded by people who cared about her. But more than that, he loved Yn herself. She was everything he’d ever wanted—kind, intelligent, and full of life.
“You know you’re amazing, right?” he told her one evening as they sat on the couch in his motorhome.
Yn looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I’m just me.”
“And that’s more than enough,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.
Their love was obvious to anyone who saw them together. Lewis was always touching her in some way, whether it was a hand on her back, an arm around her shoulders, or a kiss on her forehead. He was protective but never overbearing, always making sure Yn felt safe and loved.
“You’ve got yourself a good one,” Valtteri told Lewis one day, nodding toward Yn, who was deep in conversation with Carmen and Rebecca.
“I know,” Lewis said, his voice full of affection. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
---
By the end of the season, Yn had become an integral part of the paddock family. She was no longer just “Lewis’s young girlfriend”—she was Yn, the girl everyone adored. The WAGs were her closest friends, and the drivers treated her like one of their own.
As for Lewis, he couldn’t have been prouder. Every time he looked at Yn, he was reminded of how lucky he was to have her in his life. And if anyone had doubts about their relationship at the start, they were long gone now. It was clear to everyone that what Yn and Lewis had was real.
Age was just a number. What mattered was the love they shared, and that was something no one could deny.
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Femke | she/her| bi | 18+ | later comes a masterlist| REQUEST: OPEN
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