Pete Maverick Mitchell X Lieutenant! Reader

So an idea I have for James Vowels, is her telling him they’re expecting a baby while at a race and Logan overhearing and being so excited for his F1 parents to become actual parents 🥹

A/N: Stopppp this makes me melt cause James just had his real own baby and I just know that man is an amazing father

"Morning," You walk around, fingers tracing over James's shoulders as you take your place in front of him. You two had your signature table when you two eat whenever you two traveled with the team.

If they couldn't find James, they just had to look at the little table in the corner, where the sun was constantly there and warm, not hot, but that soft warm that had your eyes closing, wanting to nap there, but now, James was eating his sausage, eggs, and some toast.

"Morning, my darling," James smiles and you warm hearing those words and sit down across from him. Quickly one of the sweet girls runs up to you and offers you some food. You can't help but pale a little bit at the food and shake your head no. James quickly sits his fork down and puts his newspaper down as well and wipes his mouth.

"Darling, is something wrong? I noticed you reacted like that to my steak at dinner, do you have a small stomach bug?" You giggle and mumble back, "Yeah, some kind of stomach bug," James sighs and smiles gently at the girl.

"Can I get some ginger tea for Y/n?" "Of course, Mr. Vowles." The girl runs off as you take small deep breaths trying to control the curling in your stomach at the moment. James watches you, as you smile and accept your tea and take a slow sip. The color seems to come back to you a little bit and he smiles.

"So, how long have you had the stomach bug? You should've told me you've been sick," James's voice is soft, but you feel the slight curl of sternness he gives Alex and Logan. "Not long, but it'll be here for about 9 or 10 months," You smile into your tea while James bristles "What kind of stomach bug stays for 9 to 10-" He stops fluffing out his newspaper as his eyes grow wide.

Giggling you cover your mouth as James looks up at you with shiny eyes. "Really?" He drops the newspaper and grabs your hand, bringing it up and kissing the inside of your wrist then your ring. "Are you 100% positive?" You nod your head and reach into your pocket and pull out the sonogram with the small little blurb currently in you.

James picks it up with shaky hands and stares at it. "I love you," He whispers to the picture before looking up at you. You two can't help but break out into a laugh and hug each other. "Woah, weird picture." You giggle hearing that American accent of Logan as he quickly grabs the photo.

"Who's having a baby?" Logan steals a piece of sausage from James's plate as James turns around and snatches the picture giving him the most Dad glare every. "Oh...oh...OH! Oh my god, Mrs. Vowles, that's awesome." He whispers and bends down and hugs you gently. "Thank you, Logan," "Logan, leave." "James," You smack your husband on his shoulder, but Logan just laughs and hugs James.

"Nah, it's okay, he wants some alone time. I get it, you two will be amazing parents, I'm great practice anyways." James chuckles and pats the young american on his back as he watches Logan walk off.

"He really is great practice." James mumbles which has you bending over laughing.

LORENZO ZURZOLO and LUDOVICA MARTINO in Under the Amalfi Sun (2022)

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

&lt;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.

&lt;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

Undercover

Angela Lopez x female reader (The Rookie)

“Officer Y/L/N,” Sergeant Grey calls, “Detectives Lopez and Harper want to see you.”

Your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Yes, sir.”

You make your way to the detectives’ desks, swallowing your nerves at the sight of Lopez before standing at attention. “Morning, detectives. Sergeant Grey said you wanted to see me?”

“Morning,  Y/L/N,” Harper greets. “We’ve got a case. We could use your skill set.”

“My skill set? What exactly do I have to offer that you don’t, ma’am? Hard to believe you need a patrol officer’s help. Big case?”

“Don’t undermine yourself,  Y/L/N. You’re smart. You’ve got good instincts. And you know this case inside and out,” Lopez cuts in. You swallow thickly at her praise, forcing the blush off of your face.

“The Tijuana Cartel?” You guess.

Lopez confirms it. “We’ve got an in. You and I are going undercover,” she smirks.

You nod, forcing yourself into business mode. “When are we doing this?”

“Tomorrow night. Which means we have today to prepare you.”

“This isn’t my first undercover op, Detective Lopez.”

“I know. We wouldn’t risk the case if we didn’t have faith in your abilities.”

You nod firmly. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You’ve earned it,” Harper assures. There’s a glint in her eyes that rouses a curiosity in you. She knows something.

You pull a chair up to their desks and review the case with the detectives. Several hours are spent delving into cover stories and planning before it’s time for a break. As Lopez and Harper bicker over what to get for lunch, you let your eyes trail over to Detective Lopez. Her eyes shine as she smiles at Harper, arguing that they get burritos way too often. Dark hair frames her face as she arches a brow at Harper’s claim that they hadn’t gotten burritos all week. 

“What do you think, Y/L/N?” Harper asks.

“Huh? Oh, uh—I, yeah, I’m fine with whatever.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harper says with a vaguely accusatory look as Lopez shoots you a lopsided smirk. 

“Y/L/N and I will go pick up the tacos,” Lopez says, motioning for you to follow her. You scramble out of your seat after staring for a moment too long, ignoring Harper’s laughter behind you.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. After last time…I can’t mess this up. Diaz needs to go away,” you mumble, remembering the barrel of his gun against your temple the last time you saw him.

“He won’t be there. Don’t worry. We’ll get him. If this op goes as planned, we’ll have enough to issue a warrant for his arrest.”

“Thank you, Detective Lopez.”

“You can call me Angela. We’ll be working together pretty closely the next couple of days.”

“Right, of course. In that case, call me Y/N.” Your eyes meet hers across the center console and your stomach flutters. You do your best to ignore it.

You nervously adjust the black blazer that rests over a lace corset top and black pants. As silly as it is, you’re almost nervous for Lopez to see you in something other than your uniform.

A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You open the door and smile in greeting before the grin drops entirely off your face.

Angela stands there in a long sparkly black dress. A deep V-neck and long leg slit leaves little to the imagination. Your eyes get stuck at the top of the slit where the beginnings of her hip are exposed.

She clears her throat and your eyes dart up to hers, finding an amused smirk on her face.

“You clean up alright, Y/L/N. Ready to go?” 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. You ready?”

“Always. Come on. We’ve got a party to attend.”

The two of you were undercover as girlfriends—not that anyone would even notice you at this huge party. Lights flashed and music pounded. A couple was having sex in one corner and a group of guys were playing poker in another.

You kept your arm wrapped securely around Angela’s waist—for the sake of your cover, of course. Her hand came to rest on an exposed sliver of skin on your stomach as the two of you stood near the bar. To anyone else, you looked like a drunken couple lost in their own world. But in reality, it was the perfect vantage point to keep an eye out.

Angela’s fingers pressed firmly into your stomach to get your attention. “There. Carlos. Diaz’s right hand man. Let’s go.”

Quietly, the two of you make your way across the dance floor—getting shoved against each other several times—and make your way down the hallway that Carlos disappeared into. The two of you stop outside the door he went into, leaning against the wood to hear what he was saying.

“Next week’s meeting is crucial. We can’t fuck this up. Anyone strays from the plan and Diaz will gut you like a pig, got it?”

You meet Angela’s eyes as another voice speaks too quietly to make out his words.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something before you interrupted me. And she was hot.”

Your eyes widen as Carlos’ footsteps approach the door, and you grab Angela’s hand and drag her quickly down the hall. You slow to a semi-casual stroll.

Footsteps coming from the other direction pull a cuss from your lips as you realize that you’re being boxed in.

“Shit, we should call for backup,” Angela mumbles, her eyes darting around in search of an escape. The footsteps are growing close enough to have your heart thrumming.

“Do you trust me?”

“What? Of course I do,” she answers with confusion. Swallowing your nerves, you duck your head down and bring your lips to hers, pushing her back into the wall. She doesn’t kiss back at first, but then she understands your intentions and reciprocates. 

Her hands run down your sides, pulling you closer into her body. The footsteps fade to the back of your mind as you run your tongue over her bottom lip, moaning lowly when she grants access. With one hand against the wall next to her head, the other hand grabs her hip and brings it into your own. Her hand tangles in your hair as she tilts her head, finding a new angle that has the both of you moaning and pushing desperately for more.

“Who are you? You can’t be back here,” a deep, grainy voice cuts in. The two of you break the kiss but your hands remain on each other and your bodies against the wall.

“Uh, sorry, just got distracted,” you tell him with a laugh. “This dress should be illegal,” you add as your eyes rake over it.

“We just wanted some privacy. Only so much you can do before people begin to notice your hands under the table,” Angela says with a smirk. Holy fuck, I’m gonna die right here, right now, you think.

“Well you can’t be here. Get out. Now,” he grumbles.

“Of course. So sorry,” she giggles before pushing off the wall and dragging you down the hallway. You turn around and give the burly man a half-sorry shrug.

The two of you make it back to the car in silence. Adrenaline lights your bodies aflame and arousal has your hearts beating rapidly. Once seated in the car, the air turns thick and awkward.

“Um, I’m sorry if I crossed a line back there. I understand if you need to write me up, or–”

“Stop right there. It was good thinking. If we had been made, we might not be alive right now. Nobody’s being written up,” she promises. “Plus, it was a pretty good kiss,” she adds with a smirk.

“Just pretty good?” You laugh.

“Yeah, not half bad.” Her eyes dart down to your lips and your stomach tightens.

“Is it bad that I want to kiss you again?” You whisper.

“Yes. Definitely. But I think you should do it anyway,” she urges you.

Without hesitation, you lean in and meet her lips once more, sucking her plump bottom lip between yours and drawing a moan from her throat. Her tongue slips into her mouth as your hands roam desperately over her body that's separated from yours by the center console. Her hand dips beneath your blazer, toying with your waistband as her thumb slips beneath it. Her hand moves to the button of your slacks.

“Can I?” she breathes.

You nod, whispering “please” before a knock on the window interrupts your actions. Your bodies jolt apart at a speed that you briefly think might be inhuman. When you see the face that’s smirking outside the car window, your body fills with fear. “Oh no.”

Angela opens the window and Harper leans down, smiling evilly at the two of you. “So. You two have fun? What am I saying? Of course you are. Enough fun to forget that I could hear everything over comms.”

“Nyla–” Angela starts.

“Don’t. Your little secret is safe with me. It’s about time you two stopped making heart eyes at each other and actually did something about it,” she smirks.

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.

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.

Why Can't We Get Along? | Alexia Putellas x Reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni. literally just loved-up smut with the tiniest bit of angst. word count: 3696 based off this request.

“This isn’t right, Alexia. We shouldn’t be arguing this much just a few months in.” You sighed, hand trembling as you held your phone to your ear.

“So what? You just want to give up?”

Her tone was defensive, something you’d come to expect when she was faced with moments of insecurity. You knew she was hurting, but sometimes you wished she would unlock the chains around her heart and tell you what she really felt.

“I don’t want to give up but we can’t seem to stop arguing. Is this normal for you?”

“No. Maybe we just aren’t meant to be.”

You wanted to shake her; you were sure if she wasn’t on the other end of the phone, you would’ve tried it by now. If she could just tell you what was causing her to pull away every time you began to connect on a deeper level, maybe you could have a shot at this.

“Okay, fine. I want us to be civil, though. Can we please be civil?”

“I would like that too.”

“Thank you, for everything. You really have made me feel like never before. I truly mean that.”

“And you for me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard her voice break, but before you could listen more closely, the phone line was cut off, and you were left heartbroken and clutching a soft toy she had won for you on one of your first dates.

You hadn't been together that long, but long enough for the mere thought of her not being around enough to kill off any sign of life in your chest. The tears didn't take long to arrive, and once they began, they didn't seem possible to stop.

You'd never really been the type to cry yourself to sleep, but then again, you'd never really been the type to fall in love within a few months. As your eyes grew heavy, you couldn't help but wonder what she would do next. Would she immediately find someone else?

You weren't sure how long you'd been asleep when a gentle knocking at your front door startled you. You cursed yourself for your online shopping addiction, guessing that the same delivery man would be at your door for the third evening this week. The first day he'd witnessed you in your pyjamas, the second he had witnessed you with your hair dye on, and now he was about to witness your puffy eyes and damp cheeks at 9pm. You didn't care. It hurt too much to care.

Mind absolutely made up that it was him, you headed towards the doorway and pulled the front door open, only to find Alexia standing on your doorstep. It was obvious to you that she had been crying too, her breath shaking as another round of tears threatened to come out at the sight of you.

“Hi.” You smiled sheepishly.

“Hi. I wasn’t sure if this would be okay. I don’t want to be alone.” She mumbled.

“Come in.”

You guided her through the hallway, not thinking twice before you headed for the room you’d just left. Alexia hesitated slightly, causing you to realise what habit had you doing.

“Sorry, we can go to the living room if you’d prefer?”

You watched as her brain mulled it over, her heart battling with her head right in front of your eyes. She took a step closer to you, stroking her thumb across your face ever so gently and giving you the smallest but most beautiful of smiles.

“I’m sorry that you’ve been crying.” She whispered.

“I’m sorry that you don’t want to be alone.” You followed her volume.

“I think I worded that wrong.”

A small giggle left her lips at her admission—an admission that had confused you. You weren’t sure why else she would be here than not wanting to be alone, and your heart ached at the thought of her taking back the vulnerable statement.

“What did you mean then?” You sighed.

“I wanted to be with you. If that wasn’t possible then yes, I would’ve wanted to be alone.”

You smiled at her, reaching for her hand and guiding her into your bedroom. You'd done that same act so many times before, but this night was different. This night, you were just glad to have her presence, butterflies filling your stomach as she lay back on your bed and kicked her shoes off with a thud.

"Come to bed?" She asked, slightly unsure of herself.

You nodded, pulling back the covers on the side that had become your side of any bed the two of you slept in. A slight distance remained between the two of you at first, neither wanting to make the other feel uncomfortable.

After just a few agonising seconds, you both turned to face one another, arms slowly pulling each other closer as you met in the middle. You moved your hand to her face, gently brushing the loose strands of hair that had fallen behind her ear as she closed her eyes in sheer bliss.

“I have so many feelings for you.”

That statement caught you off guard; it was the last thing you had expected to hear from the woman who had spent the last few months making you feel like she couldn’t stand you for longer than a day at a time.

“You do?”

You spoke softly, not wanting her to confuse your need for clarification for any kind of repulsion or aggression.

“Yes. I don’t know how to tell you that I think I love you without scaring you away.”

You were dumbfounded. In a few seconds, a million thoughts flashed through your mind. These arguments weren’t coming from a place of hatred; quite the opposite, in fact. Both of you were just too afraid to admit that love was seeping into your relationship. For you, you could’ve told her right there that you did love her, but you knew that wasn’t what she needed to hear right now. Telling her you were that little step ahead of her would bring unnecessary pressure, something that might break the two of you forever. So, you held onto that secret, responding with something that aligned more with her.

“I think I love you too. I think that’s why I get so scared when we argue. I’m so afraid of losing someone that I know I’m falling in love with.”

Her hand mimicked yours, coming up to your face to rest on your cheek, and her thumb matched the repetitive pattern of yours as it gently stroked across your cheekbone.

“Kiss me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You gently moved your lips towards hers, being careful not to come across as too eager for your girlfriend, who obviously needed something a little more loving tonight.

"I want you, but slowly." She whispered, confirming your suspicions that she needed to feel you tonight, just you and not the act of confidence you put on when you she wanted a show.

Your hand travelled from her cheek to her neck, your fingertips tracing the length of it before your lips followed the same journey. Tonight, though, your teeth didn’t play a part in it. Instead, you pressed open-mouthed kisses against her, letting your tongue gently slip through a few times as her hand came to rest in your hair.

“Yes.” She whispered into the dark room, tilting her neck back to give you more access.

You took your time, painting your love across each square of skin until you reached the tip of her collarbone. You ran your hand along her side, almost like you were giving her a warning that you planned to remove the loose shirt she was wearing, before your fingers took the first button between them.

“Can I?” You brought your lips to hers once more.

You felt her nod against your lips, giving you the go ahead to gently untangle each button along the length of her shirt and pulling her upwards with you to push her arms out of it. You couldn’t help the little smile that showed itself on your face as you found she hadn’t bothered to put on a bra before her surprise visit.

“You’re perfect.”

Your declaration came out in a whispered moan as you pushed her onto her back and began to slide across the bare skin of her chest with your lips. There was no end goal for you except for making sure every inch of her had been kissed before things went any further. You started in the centre of her chest, moving from there to her left shoulder and then all the way across to her right. 

“Yes.” She whispered into the room again, the faintest twinge of a moan entangled with it this time.

You positioned yourself between her legs as your mouth travelled down the valley of her breasts, making your way down her navel before finally moving to her breasts. The most intimate of groans left your throat as you found her nipples were already hard, waiting for your mouth to finally wrap around them, ever so lovingly. You gently sucked them, bringing your tongue into action with little teasing strokes followed by gentle bites that wouldn’t cause the pleasurable pain she’d enjoyed so much previously. Tonight was about making her feel connected to you.

“I’m so wet for you.”

That seductive whisper, combined with a subtle thrust of her hips, sent waves of pleasure through every nerve in your body. You swore you could've finished right there, hearing the bedsheet's gentle rustle beneath her.

“Tell me that again.” You teased, sitting up slightly to take the button of her jeans into your grasp.

“I’m so wet for you, I’ve never felt like this before.”

It wasn’t her usual bedroom talk; before now, she had been full of expletives and demands. There was something about how vulnerable she was tonight that had you wanting to satisfy her needs even more than you did when she was screaming your name. 

You detached her button, listening to the heavenly sound as you pulled her zip down and she wiggled her hips to help you peel her jeans from her toned legs, both letting out a gentle laugh at her movements.

You reached your hand out, your fingers brushing against the dampness of her thong as her body shuddered. She was right; she had never been this wet before. Her core radiated a heat that could be felt before your fingers had even come into contact with it.

“God.” You groaned.

You knew you wanted to taste her, but you also knew that, with how worked up she was, the second your tongue hit her clit, she’d be a shaking mess in the bed. So, you compromised, spreading her legs slightly, running your fingertips from the bottoms of her thighs to the lining of her underwear, and repeating the process for the other leg.

Your fingers slipped between the creases in her thighs and her underwear on either side. You tugged them upwards, letting go and causing them to snap back against her sensitive skin, knowing that each snap would cause a rush of air to hit against her clit and send shockwaves through her.

“Keep teasing me. I… I didn’t know I could feel like this.” She murmured, feet digging into the bottom of the bed and hands gripping the sheets. You had truly never witnessed her so wanting for you.

“You’re so beautiful.” You broke character for a moment, speaking directly from the heart.

Your plan to tease her for a little longer failed the second she brought her hand to wrap around your thigh. The sensation of her being that close to where you wanted her, but not close enough, jolted you to remove the last piece of clothing that lay between your fingers and her body.

Always one for skin on skin contact, she batted your hand away from her and removed your clothes before settling back down on the bed and spreading her legs eagerly for you.

Finally, for both of you, your fingertips were delicately gliding through her velvety folds, her arousal so intense that it glistened all the way up to her belly button in the dimly lit room.

“You’re soaked, baby.” You whispered breathlessly.

“Can I feel?”

You didn't respond; instead, you grasped her right hand, intertwining your fingers, and guided her touch with your own. The moan that escaped her lips as she pleasured herself in front of you sent a shiver down your spine, forcing you to rid yourself of your underwear before you soaked it.

“Watch me. I want you to watch me.”

You'd never witnessed her so worked up. Of course, the two of you indulged in countless nights when every thrust left you craving more and every orgasm left you yearning for another. But this time, it was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

She seemed to be unable to stop herself, as if there were no limits to how turned on she could get. The soft glow of moonlight that was seeping through the curtains cast just enough light on the bed to reveal the growing wet patch on the sheets beneath her.

"That's it, keep going."

You wished you could say something more sexual to fit the tone of the show she was putting on for you. Yet you found yourself utterly captivated by the tender and exploratory caresses she gave herself. Your brain couldn't think of anything but the four words you continued to repeat.

“Come beside me."

You wondered at first if your lack of vocal enthusiasm had caused her to feel self-conscious about what she was doing, but as your head hit the pillow beside her, hers turned to press your lips together. She used her free hand to move your left to settle on top of hers, making it clear that it was simply there to feel her movements before taking your right hand and moving it between your legs.

"Follow my lead." She husked out.

The slight issue you had was that you weren't sure you would be able to follow her lead for more than ten seconds before you would end this night prematurely. It wasn't until you had brought your fingers into contact with your own pulsating core that you realised just how difficult it would be to follow any instructions, given that your hand seemed to just slide around in the pool of wetness between your legs.

She used her own actions to guide you, slowly circling her clit once, twice, and then a third time before dragging her fingers down to her entrance and entering the tip of a teasing finger.

"Does that feel good?"

She had no real reason to ask that; your muffled moans against her lips should've given her the answer she was longing for. You nodded your head, breaking your lips apart just long enough to let out a groan before crashing them back together again and letting your tongue delve into her mouth to intertwine with hers.

"I need to tell you something." She whispered breathlessly, finally giving in to the craving of her body to push her fingers inside.

If you had known what it was, maybe you would've been able to focus on her words more than the hope that she would quicken the agonisingly slow pace of long thrusts deep inside and removing almost all of her fingers each time. But then again, if you'd known what it was, you might have been tempted to stop her altogether, and she knew that.

"Anything, babe."

The hand that was resting on top of yours pushed it out of the way, her fingers plunging deep inside you as you struggled to focus on following her lead. She waited for you to catch up, groaning loudly when you pushed her hand away from her core and replaced it with your own.

"I should've been clearer earlier."

"What about?" You choked out, only able to focus on the brushes of her fingertips against your gspot.

The sounds of your hands slapping against the wet skin of one another became the most prevalent sound in the room as she worked you to within an inch of your long overdue orgasm. You'd almost forgotten that she was mid-conversation with you, engulfed in your own pleasure, until she uttered the words that had you crashing over the edge.

"I don't think I love you, I know that I do."

With a scream of her name, you tightened around her fingers, not caring for the loss of rhythm as you removed your hand completely from her core and pulled her face to your chest. You clutched it tightly as your back arched and your body jittered, then jittered again, and then once more as Alexia gave you one orgasm for each of those three words. 

i. love. you.

Unable to speak, you pressed your lips against her forehead and felt her exhale deeply at the contact, still with no idea that you felt exactly the same way. She stayed patient, letting you come down from your orgasm and not running away at your lack of words.

"Alexia..." You whispered.

"You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to you know. I needed you to know." She corrected herself.

You used your trembling hand to lift her chin up, aligning her lips with your own. She opened them, ready to accept the kiss she thought was coming, and opened her eyes when it didn't arrive a few seconds later. There was something magical about the way her eyes were piercing into yours—the silence that should've been eerie being nothing but content.

"I don't just think I love you either, I know I love you. I've known it for a while now." You spoke softly.

The whites of your teeth lit up the room as the two of you giggled at how needless the earlier argument had been. Neither of you said anything else; you didn't need to.

You waited a little longer before bringing your hands to her shoulders, gently pushing against her until her back fell against the mattress. You didn't need to spend time working her up; your fingers easily slid through her folds, and with a light whimper, she relaxed enough to let you push two of them inside her. 

You wanted to take advantage of just how wet she was and how open she was as you worked your fingers slowly in and out of her. Peppering kisses along her neck again, you allowed your fingers to come to rest inside her. She opened her mouth to urge you to stop teasing before realising you weren't planning on it. Instead, you bent the tips of your fingers against her gspot, repeating the action over and over again as you felt it coming down to meet you.

"This feels so good." She cried out.

Each time you felt her nearing her own orgasm, you returned to slow thrusts in and out of her for a few seconds before she wrapped her hand around your wrist, a non-verbal way of telling you that whatever you were doing before wasn't something she ever wanted you to stop.

But then she felt it.

It wasn't her usual orgasm; it wasn't that buildup of pressure in the lower part of her stomach. This was different. This was coming from directly inside her, and she feared that if she didn't stop you, she might have some kind of embarrassing accident in the bedroom. She tried to recall just how much water she'd drank from her water bottle on the way to your house, unable to concentrate on the memory as your fingertips continued their repetitive strokes against that spot.

“Something is happening to me.” She panicked.

“I know, baby. Just go with it. Tell me if you want me to stop.” You whispered, hopeful that she trusted you enough to know this would be worth it.

You had never heard moans like this from her; they were relentlessly spilling from her mouth and getting stuck in her throat. Her hand came to rest on your thigh, fingernails digging into it so aggressively that you were sure they would draw blood.

“You okay?” You stroked your free hand up and down her arm, careful not to interrupt the rhythm of your other hand.

“Yes. Don’t stop. Oh my… don’t stop.” Her hips thrust up to meet you, neck craning back against the pillow.

And then it happened. The wetness between her legs becoming audibly louder as gentle spurts of wetness hit against your wrist, and the sound of droplets hitting the bed beneath her filled the room. She screamed as you worked her through it, not caring for the neighbours who couldn't possibly have ignored the noises. Her back was arched, and her hips were mindlessly thrusting up and down as you slowed down your pace and carefully removed your fingers.

“Did I just…?”

“That was... wow." You feigned, unable to take your eyes away from the sizeable wet patch on the bed.

If you had been able to see her complexion in this light, you'd have known that her cheeks were slightly pink at the thought that she'd just completely soaked your bed. She gently slid herself away from the mess, pulling you towards her and relishing the feeling of your bare skin against hers, sweat and all.

"I will tell you that I love you every day if that's how you respond." She chuckled, the vibrations of her laughter sending those flutters to your heart.

"I can't wait to tell you I love you every day." You smiled, giving her forehead a kiss.

"I guess now we know why we weren't getting along." She hummed contently, fingertips now stroking across your stomach.

"I guess so."

It was true; that had been exactly why you hadn't been getting along. You knew that because, from the moment you had both put your trust in the power of saying i love you, neither of you felt the need to argue like that again.

Masterlist

Started: 2020-07-31

Updated: 2024-06-07

Top Gun Maverick Fics

As You Wish (a Jake Seresin x Reader Parent Trap AU

When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

Lees verder

★ MASTERLIST

it's nice to have a friend lando is one of your closest friends… until he sleeps with you and ghosts you. part one ★ part two ★ part three ★ part four ★ part five ★ part six ★ part seven ★ part eight ★ part nine ★ part ten ★ part eleven ★ part twelve ★ part thirteen ★ part fourteen ★ part fifteen ★ part sixteen ★ part seventeen ★ part eighteen ★ part nineteen ★ part twenty ★ part twenty one ★ part twenty two ★ part twenty three ★ part twenty four ★ part twenty five ★ part twenty six ★ part twenty seven ★ part twenty eight ★ part twenty nine ★ part thirty ★ part thirty one ★ part thirty two ★ part thirty three

bonus written parts: bonus part one