A Beast (Harwin Strong Imagine)

AS IF! ― SERIES MASTERLIST

“Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing; but I have never been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.”

― Jane Austen, Emma

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Tyrell!Reader

Rating: Explicit. Trigger warnings will be placed in 18+ chapters.

“Clueless” inspired. Dedicated to all virgins who can't drive.

Summary: (Y/N) Tyrell lives her life just like an ordinary girl - big mansion, wealthy lawyer as a father, getting absolutely everything she wants. Without any worries of her own, as she keeps boys at a respectful distance, she is the perfect candidate to serve as matchmaker for everybody in town. Especially clueless new girls.

No worries of her own. If only the ridiculously handsome and intelligent Aemond Targaryen hadn't found himself right in the middle of her matchmaking games. And in her house as well, how lovely.

But surely it won't be a problem? She doesn't even care.

Ugh, as if...

COMING SOON

Can someone make a very angsty Harwin Strong x reader story? Or an unrequited love something because I badly want to cry I still can't accept the fate of Laena and Harwin😭😭😭😭

You Tell Me You Hate Me, Baby (Yeah I Bet You Do)

FORGET ME TOO PART 1

Summary: When the faithful abandon their duty…what is it that remains? When Aemond return home from yet another visit to see Alys and their son, he finds that there are consequences to his infidelity. Consequences he not only did not expect, but does not like.

Note: This one came to me fast and I just started writing it. It aint perfect, but it sure is about the vibes here.

Part 2

Word Count: 5.2k+

I spoke in quiet tones with the Queen over the table as we broke our fast. Even with the room empty, one never knew who was listening in the Red Keep. The walls themselves seemed to have ears. And it was a fact that I had grown to dread more and more as I learned that just as much as the walls had ears, they had mouths too. Mouths that created rumors and malicious whispers, then caused them to run rampant. The types of rumors and whispers that would tear you apart to the very core of your being while you just had to endure it. The pain they caused was not allowed to matter - not if you wanted to act as though the words were not true. And I could not handle it any longer. I should not have to handle it in the first place. That much I was sure of. 

“I am asking you to understand, my Queen,” I said in a sharper whisper than I had before. “I can no longer do this. And it is cruel enough to me that I have been forced to remain in such a situation this long. Word has gotten out. Why should my reputation suffer further than it already has? Why should I continue to endure this humiliation as I have been? A humiliation that only grows worse by the day. My brother is already angry enough to storm south and take me home himself, even if that required your son’s head on a pike.”

“You cannot simply leave, Y/N, you must know that,” Alicent said quietly, voice closer to begging, to pleading, than it was to demanding. “There are rumors, yes, but there is no proof. The rumors will die down. They always do when given time. All will be well once more when that happens. I will talk to my son. I will make it so. This shall not haunt you forever.”

My hands clenched into fists where they sat on my lap. “Your son does not care for me any more today than he did on the day we met,” I snapped. “It will not magically be well. It cannot be magically well again when it never was - nothing could make it so.” I took a deep breath. Closed my eyes. Opened them again. “Alicent. I am begging you to hear me. He has a lover. His lover has had his child now. A son. He is never here because he is with them. He is with your grandchild.”

Her gaze darkened, my words troubling her and making her sad. But it didn’t matter how much she liked or cared for me. I wasn’t her son. And he was what mattered to her. I knew that. I prepared myself for whatever tirade she would go on, and still, as with every other time we’d had this unending conversation, found myself surprised.

“You cannot say such reckless things,” she insisted. “There is no proof. He merely takes Vhagar on rides and patrols as he must. He is not doing something so insidious as having another family. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking of such! A good wife does not put weight into such unsubstantiated rumors.”

I leaned against the table, then covered my mouth with my hands feeling utterly exhausted. “Alicent. He told me so himself,” I said shortly. “He told me that Alys Rivers is the one that he loves - the only one that he could ever love. He told me he loathed me for keeping him from the only family which he found to be true. He told me that they had a son and that she was the only one he’d ever see carry his children. That she was the only one he would be a true family with. The words came from his own mouth. And if you do not trust my own word, well then the next time he sees fit to show up I recommend you ask him.” I scoffed. “Better yet, my Queen, ask your Master of Whispers. I am sure he has information on it for you should you ask for it.”

Alicent’s hands were shaking and she started picking at the skin around her nails. I sighed and immediately intercepted her, grabbing her hands and holding them to stop her. She stilled in the destruction she was doing, but her hands still had a light tremor to them. She looked upset. Genuinely so. Part of me felt bad. Part of me understood the unending stress she had endured since she was a mere girl-made-Queen. Part of me, though - the larger part, in fact - had grown to be colder than the home I’d left behind in Winterfell and just didn’t care for her pain anymore.

“Let me…please let me just be a Stark once more. I don’t…I don’t even ask you to let me go home to Winterfell. I know that you cannot grant me such a thing. But implore the Septons to annul this wedding. We didn’t have a bedding ceremony. He has not touched me. I am a woman grown. Just let me go. I have no desire to remain in this sham and have to make both our lives so needlessly fucking miserable. Alicent…please. If you ever cared about Aemond. If you ever cared about me. Just…please let this end. I will speak no ill of him to others. Of any of you. Not even to Cregan - I will keep the truth from my own brother if that is what you require, my Queen. I don’t care. I don’t even ask for revenge or retribution as you of all people would know I’d be well within my right to do. So just…please let me go,” I pled. 

The Queen looked hesitant. But, I could tell that the tide was turning and she was coming to see my side. “You…you give up too easily on this, Y/N. You cannot do such a thing,” she said firmly.

“I do not give up! I have waited over three years of marriage for your son to even pretend he can stand my presence and he cannot even grant me that much respect,” I said, unable to help the tears of both frustration and humiliation from rising in my eyes. “He will chart the fucking constellations in her eyes and I doubt he could even name the color of mine. He knows nothing of me and cares not to. And to be frank? I have long since given up a desire to care for anything related to him. How could I not? I have been patient. I have been understanding. I have been kind. I have been loyal - to him, to the Targaryens, to the fucking Hightowers! And what have I gotten out of it? Less than nothing! Separated from my family and the only home I knew! With people who do not care for me at all! I am no fool who thinks life is fair, but I would think that maybe you could understand my frustration at all of this!”

“We cannot do such a thing,” she said. Alicent’s eyes were impassive and she looked me over. Analytical. Looking for weakness. The sharp, shrewd look was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Her mouth came into a line, veering just slightly into the territory of a frown. “We could not afford to lose the alliance with your house. I am sure you understand that, Lady Stark. I am…am sorry.”

My jaw clenched in anger. I couldn’t help it at this point. “If you are that concerned with maintaining the relationship with my family then you should listen to me, Queen Alicent,” I warned. “I mean it when I say that Cregan intends to march here himself with a thousand Northmen if that’s what it takes to free me from this. He is no fool. He receives word just as every other nobleman. I did not even need to tell him for him to know. He is furious that I have been held in such a situation this long. And I have no desire to stop any aim of his to retrieve me. Why would I?” I shook my head. “Your best bet to maintaining the alliance is by letting me go. Marry me off to your other fucking son and send me to Oldtown if your concern remains that great. I would take that - I would take anything - over the humiliation that I have already endured. We both know that the Targaryens do stranger things than switching wives.”

She blinked in shock. “Is that a threat?” she asked sharply.

I’d lost her, then. Her minor willingness to listen had evaporated into nothing. I let out a sigh and rose to my feet. “No, my Queen. It wasn’t a threat. It was a statement of fact. A statement of the future that will quite literally storm the doors of the Red Keep if allowed to happen,” I said. “I shall leave you to think in peace, Your Grace.”

Without being granted leave, I exited. I nodded to Ser Cole, standing faithfully at the door as always. My own guard, Ser Rydan Carron,  appointed to me by the King himself upon my wedding to Aemond, stepped off the wall, following me not even a full step behind me. I nodded to those who greeted me with combinations of Lady Y/N, Lady Stark, and Princess. I kept my face impassive as I moved towards my chambers, looking bored and blank rather than upset. I heard their whispers, heard the words of my husband’s actions swirling behind me. I pretended to be oblivious as was always required. It was only in the peace of my room that I openly let out the curses I had been building up.

“Gods, Y/N,” Rydan chuckled, “Based on that ladylike tirade, I take it that the conversation did not go to your liking.”

I leveled him with a glare. “Fuck you, Rydan,” I said simply. I scoffed and shook my head. “Of course it didn’t. The Queen would rather we all be fucking tortured than do what will ultimately be the best choice for everyone involved.”

Rydan hummed in acknowledgment. “Good as your stupid husband is with a blade, he remains untested in true battle. I do not. I could run him through with a sword the next time he returns and have us safely on the way to your brother before they’d even notice his body had gone cold.” A kind offer, if entirely impractical. He smirked then. “Or if that doesn’t suit your fancy, I could just kill you. Frame him for your death. Cregan will well and truly wage war upon them if I do that for you.”

I laughed at his words, the sound startled from my lips more than anything intentional. I reached out and squeezed his arm in appreciation. “Most kind of you to offer, Ser. But alas, I think that is a terrible idea so I will have to refuse. The both of them,” I said. My lips fell back into their half frown. I gestured to one of the couches in my antechamber, sitting in one myself. Rydan took the one opposite me, a look of vague amusement on his face at my lackluster refusal. “I wish I could accept it though, in truth. The first one. It would be well deserved but I…I cannot.”

He nodded, pursing his lips. “Stark honor,” he said, with faux wisdom in his voice. He gave me a goofy smile and I rolled my eyes. He reached over to the table in front of him, picking up the book he’d set there the day prior. “Shall I continue off where we were yesterday, Princess?”

“Never call me that,” I said after fake gagging. I relaxed on the couch until I was more laying than sitting. I allowed my eyes to drift up to the ceiling and tucked my feet under myself. I looked at him. “Go on then, read to me.” 

Rydan opened the book, a long tale that one of the foremost authors of Westeros had written. A rare first edition with the author’s notes. My favorite book, and a gift from the King at my wedding. A generous gift. A well-loved one. Far more generous and well-loved than his son, even. I listened as Rydan’s voice washed over me, capturing the cadence of the story expertly. I smiled and laughed at all the right parts - even more than expected with the humor and personality he managed to inject. A few chapters in, I was already more relaxed than I had been through the rest of the week. I was enjoying myself as much as I allowed myself to while in King’s Landing. Right as we reached the point where the hero was going to agree to fight our villain, I stopped him to call for a light lunch for us. We spent time eating, chatting in half-sentences about mindless topics, and then returned to the story. I was far too exhausted to give energy to anything real today. He knew that. He was kind enough to oblige. Rydan always was.

Yet, at the peak of the story, right as the hero and villain were ready to clash, there was an insistent, impatient knock on my door. I turned my head into the fabric of the couch and let out a short, cathartic scream before sitting up. I gestured to Rydan with my head. He placed the book down and snorted at my dramatics even as he rose to his feet and walked to the door. He opened it slowly and I watched as the ease on his face died. His eyes became pinched, his lips turned downward, and he looked generally annoyed if you knew what such a thing looked like on him. Regrettably, I did, which meant I knew just who it was.

“Prince Aemond,” he greeted, tone just shy of icy.

My eyes widened and I sat up more, my feet touching the ground. My brow furrowed as he walked into my chambers. He did not greet or even acknowledge Rydan. He had an annoyed look and a determined stride. That was never a good combination with my dear husband. I did not bother to keep the cringe from crossing over my face as I looked at him. 

“Dear husband,” I greeted, dull, emotionless. “What a surprise it is to see you. I had no idea you returned. What can I do for you?”

His expression fared no better, nor did his own voice. “I just got back,” he said shortly. “Come. My mother is summoning us both I’ve been told.”

I glanced over to Rydan, eyes dark in irritation. “Of course,” I said, rising to my feet. “I would not dream of keeping the Queen waiting.” I was proud of myself for keeping my icy rage out of my voice, and my sarcasm too. I gestured him to the door with my hand. “After you, husband.”

Aemond openly glared at me, forcefully taking my hand and wrapping it around his arm. “What kind of husband would I be to not escort you,” he said, voice acidic in a way that he clearly could not stop.

“Oh just yourself, you bumbling idiot,” Rydan muttered quietly in a coarse version of the trade tongue he’d taken the time to painstakingly teach me solely for the chance to insult my husband. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing. “Lead the way, my Princess.” Didn’t even acknowledge Aemond. “I go where you lead me as your faithful servant, my Lady.”

I smiled at him, acting as though he had said nothing of consequence, even as he laid it on thick. I looked over to Aemond then who was busy glaring at Rydan, suspicious of what he said. I tugged at his arm once, raising an eyebrow. Aemond glanced back at me and rolled his eyes openly before harshly tugging me down the hall forcing me to lengthen my stride to keep up with him. Both he and I ignored the greetings around us as he forced me to near-sprint down the corridors back to his mother’s chambers. I nodded to Rydan as a silent instruction to remain outside of the door next to Ser Cole who remained faithfully at his post as he always did. 

After we entered and the door closed, I released Aemond’s arm as though it burned my skin and took three steps away from him. Aemond did the same. I didn’t spare him a look. Instead, I looked to the Queen, who sat, a troubled look on her face as she gazed into the fire. There was a Septon at her side, and Larys Strong, the Master of Whispers, on her other side. My eyes widened, breath catching in my throat. Upon seeing us, the Septon and Lord both stood, bowed to us, and then left. Aemond looked puzzled, I tried my best to not appear as though I felt any particular way seeing the religious man and the Master of Whispers in the Queen’s quarters on a seemingly random day. 

“Mother, you wished to see us both. And I’ve brought…her. So here we are” Aemond asked with open animosity in the way he spat her. He dropped into the chair beside his mother in waiting. Cautiously, I perched on the couch across from them, folding my hands in my lap. “What do you need to discuss?”

“Tell me, son,” Alicent said, turning her eyes to her son, “do you enjoy making a fool of your family? Your house? Your name?” I was shocked at the venom in her voice, but Aemond looked more surprised in truth. “Tell me, where do you go when you leave your wife here alone for weeks on end as you have since you married?”

Aemond stiffened at her words, back straightening. He sat up straighter, looking still and unnatural as a shadow. “I have explained to you, mother, I must take Vhagar for regular rides. She does not enjoy being still for so long,” he said.

“That dragon is well over one hundred and fifty years old, son. I am not a fool. It is not some fledgling that needs to stretch its legs,” Alicent snapped. “Do not treat me as a fool, Aemond I warn you. So tell me the truth of these rumors I have been hearing. Do you have a…a lover in the Riverlands? Did you father a bastard with her?” Her fury was palpable. Evidently, the Master of Whispers had told her something she did not wish to hear. “Do you defile your wife’s reputation and honor? That of your mother? That of your family?”

Immediately, the Queen was no longer the only one angry. Aemond followed, and his anger was an incandescent rage that made the room stifling. “I told you that I did not wish for this, mother,” he said, as if things were that simple. As if it absolved him of his sins. “I told you that my heart belonged to another and I had no plans to be a part of this marriage. You and father are the ones who did not listen to me when I told you such. This is not my fault.”

“Not your fault?” the Queen asked, voice quiet with an anger that she was trying to conceal and was faring very poorly at doing. “Tell me, son, how your vile actions are not your own fault? You…you sleep with another woman who is not your wife. You have a child with a woman who is not your wife. These choices are yours entirely! So tell me how it is not your fault! Tell me how you’d explain it as appropriate to Y/N’s brother if he were to ask. Because oh, my son, he is. Cregan Stark is ready to march down from the north to take your head and I have half a mind to let him!” 

Aemond shot a furious glare at me. As though I had anything to do with this - which generally I did, but specifically I did not. “Mother,” he said, voice harsh. She stopped him though, unwilling to let him speak yet.

“You have shamed us. And moreover, you did not have the decency to try and conceal such things. Instead, you decided that ruining the reputation of your poor wife was the better of choices.” Alicent shook her head, furious, and began ripping at the skin around her nails again, blood coming easily with the tearing. “I am disgusted with your actions. With your lies. You thought nothing for the consequences of your actions, that much is very clear. I thought you better than that.” She glared at her son. “The kindest thing that you did was leaving poor Y/N’s virtue intact so she may yet still find a husband who will treat her well.”

At those words, I sat up straight, looking solely at Alicent. I did not care to see Aemond’s reaction to her declaration. I only needed to know for certain what it was that her words meant. “You…you mean?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

The Queen nodded once, lips turned down in a frown, tears in her beautiful, sad, exhausted eyes. “The Septon is going to figure out what he can do to make this happen as quietly and quickly as possible. For both of your sakes,” she said, nodding. She clenched her jaw. “The Hand will be writing a letter to your brother explaining such things so he will have no need to…to march on King’s Landing.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And the letter will beg forgiveness, and assure him that we had no clue what was happening.” My lips turned up in a bitter half-smirk that almost immediately disappeared. “It will ask what we may do to maintain our alliance as it should have been initially.”

“I see,” I said. Her words ripped a pressure off of my shoulders that I was aware of, but not cognizant of the extent of. I felt suddenly weightless. I could have laughed, giddy, if I weren’t entirely aware of how inappropriate it would be to do so. I let out a half laugh and leaned back into the cushion of my seat on the couch. “In all honesty, my Queen, I know exactly what Cregan will say to you. And I will tell you so. Bring Daeron home as I said, and warn him very carefully about how he must act and…conduct himself in his new role. And ensure that he listens to you.” I look away. “Starks are loyal. They’re honorable. But they are not fools.”

“What are you talking about?” Aemond snapped, his voice positively venomous. “What are the Septons working on?”

“Annulling the farce of the marriage that I foolishly allowed Y/N to stay in this long. Working to ensure that your stupidity does not ruin the peace and partnership that we are trying to forge with the Starks,” his mother replied.

Aemond scoffed. “You will take my wife?” he asked, mocking. “And what will the people say about that?”

“She will no longer be your wife, Aemond,” she said sharply. Alicent looked at her son with no attempt to conceal her anger. “The people will say more about you than they will about her. The Starks will be seen as benevolent and generous for not taking action to counter your transgressions against such a noble house. And the Starks will be noble and generous for considering marrying Y/N to Dareon and maintaining the alliance that we are trying to build. We, Aemond, will be the ones who are talked poorly about. We will be the ones that are negatively whispered of. We might only pray that Daeron is able to counter it by being gallant and noble.”

“You would marry Y/N to my brother? You think that Daeron marrying my wife will help in those rumors?” Aemond spat, clenching his fist in anger.

“Daeron is known to be a man of his word, kind, and daring. A well-suitable match for a Stark. Chivalrous and duty-bound. A man dedicated to family and to his responsibilities. There will be no doubt that he shall be a good match for her,” Alicent stated, slipping quickly into her persona of the Queen, firm and unyielding, even to her own children. “And I will hear no argument, least of all from you.” She glared at her son. “And do not think this changes anything. You will still not be allowed to marry your…your whore.”

I let out a shallow gasp at her words and the way Aemond immediately rose to his feet, fists clenched. His chest was heaving with his anger. This was the most emotion I had ever seen out of him. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that it was rage. He hardly seemed capable of experiencing positive emotion.

“Do not speak ill of Alys, mother. I love her and she is the mother of my son. I will allow none to speak ill of her,” he said dangerously. He turned then to me, a frantic look in his eye. “And what do you say to this, wife?” I turned my head, observing him. It was to the point that he could lay his hand on me right now and I wouldn’t care. So, risking it, I Iet myself bark out a laugh. This only served to make him look angrier. “You dare laugh?”

“I think, Aemond, that this is the smartest decision that the Queen and the Hand could’ve hoped to make on behalf of the King,” I said simply. “Perhaps a bit later than they should have, but, they can be credited for eventually coming around to see sense.” I raised an eyebrow. “I am confused by your anger, Aemond. You have made it clear since the moment that we met that you’d rather die than be married to me, much less touch me. I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me and be rid of the title of husband. Happy of me being rid of my title as your wife.” I let out a hum, lips pouting slightly. “I suppose you must be disappointed that it is your reputation that will suffer for this and not mine. A pity. Truly.”

“Y/N,” the Queen said shortly. A warning to not push him when he was this angry. A warning that I did not need. A warning that I had never heeded before and certainly would not need now.

“Bold words from a woman who could not please her husband,” Aemond said, taunting and unkind.

I openly laughed at his words, while Alicent gaped and tried to scold him. “Please,” I snorted, “when I am married to your brother, by all accounts feel free to ask him if I can please my husband. Until then, don’t be afraid to mind your own words or I may just have my brother come to take your head anyways.” I offered him a saccharine smile. “Even as a Prince you are no heir to the throne. And you have still offered my house - a house that you require the allegiance of - a great offense in your treatment of me. I dutifully endured it as long as I could. You are in the wrong by all accounts.”

He stepped forward, a menacing, cold smile on his face. Still, I did not break. I was far too cold myself to care for the depths or chill of his cruelty. I, in fact, rose to my own feet and smiled up at him, bright and cheery. His height advantage was no longer intimidating to me. He was no longer intimidating to me. It seemed that at that moment, he was finally recognizing the fact that I held no fear of him, no concern for him at all, really. And as he noticed, I saw a flicker of confusion and concern in his eye. I couldn’t help but smile brighter. I stepped to the side of him, one closer to the door.

“I assure you that I will write my own letter to my brother, Your Grace. All will be well,” I vowed. She looked visibly relieved at that assurance. I felt a sick sense of satisfaction at that power. “I thank you for your help in this. Thank you for listening.”

“What?” Aemond asked, reaching out and grabbing my arm, tightly. “What do you mean thank you for listening? Are you responsible for this, wife?”

My own bright smile grew colder as I wrenched my arm from his hand. “Do not put your hands on me,” I warned. “None will take to it kindly. And I am going to tell Ser Carron that if you do lay your hands on me that he may do whatever it may take to get your hands off of me.” Alicent’s breath caught in her throat. I did not care.

“You threaten a prince,” he said, jaw clenched. “Your husband.”

“I threaten a wastrel,” I corrected with a mocking smile. “And you should take that word out of your vocabulary. You shan’t be my husband for much longer, thanks to the mercy of the gods old and new, and the wisdom of our dear Queen.” I made to walk towards the door. Then, I turned back. “And yes I am responsible for this, Aemond. I had no desire to deal with you any longer than I already had. You should be glad to have so much more time freed up for your princely duties and your rides upon Vhagar! Take heart!” I offered another malicious smile. “And it is as your mother said. You left my virtue intact, the kindest thing you could have done. I do so appreciate it. And I am sure that your brother shall as well when the time comes. No one likes a person with…loose morals, do they?” I walked to the door then, leaving the pair in stunned silence. I turned back a final time. “Thank you, Your Grace. Truly. I will deliver a missive to you today. For a raven to send to my brother. This I promise you.”

“And I…I will send word for Daeron to return from Oldtown,” she said, slumping back in her seat, looking exhausted and a little bit defeated. Again, I got a sick little sense of delight from it - from the power. She looked directly at me then. “And, Y/N, thank you…for your generosity and understanding in sorting this. Yours and that of House Stark.”

“Of course, my Queen,” I said, bowing my head dutifully before pulling the door open and leaving. The shouting behind the door started almost immediately. Louder than the Queen even shouted at Aegon. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. Ser Cole’s face was impassive. Rydan looked curious. I smiled shortly at him, innocent and fleeting, unseen by another, and pat his arm. “Come now, Ser Carron. I have a letter I must write presently. We should make haste. It will need to go out today.”

The words were innocent enough. But Rydan clearly knew what they meant. He chuckled as he stepped of the wall, gesturing forward with a hand. “Lead the way, my Lady,” he said with a wolf-like grin.

damn

i yearn for him like the victorian children yearned for the mines

vettel reincarnate * fem!driver

after retiring from formula 1 at the end of the 2022 season, f1 legend sebastian vettel realised a while after the announcement that he would miss the paddock way too much. instead of taking back his announcement, he pairs up with an up-and-coming driver and gets her a seat in a race car in formula 1.

this is SOOO heavily inspired by @sebscore and also @thepersonnamedsam (i was doing some research how to start and came across theirs too) and i'm lOVING IT!!

i wanted there to be a twist that didn't make it seem like it's an outright copy, so there it is! do feel free to send in requests here or questions!!

if there are too many similarities and/or copies, do drop me a message to let me know so i can address them </3

do take note that these are written in no particular order, just based on requests and scenarios sent in or that i come up with!

- about fem!driver

❧ get to know her

a short summary on fem!driver

❧ headcanons

headcanons of fem!driver with the grid / her life

- 2023

❧ for the girls

she isn't worrying about being on track for the first time - she worries about the media

❧ the new hires

still skeptical about roaming by herself on a race weekend, oscar and logan pick her up from her garage before media commitments

❧ fly on the wall

she crashes in her third race of her f1 career, but she's more concerned about its repercussions than the concussion

❧ family day

her siblings are in attendance for her race, wreaking havoc wherever their sister steps foot in

❧ best dress

when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night

Are we still friends? | Masterlist

Summary: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw and you have been friends since you could remember, just friends (unfortunately) but when you are called back to Top Gun everything changes.  You have to keep on the down-low that Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell is your father. Rooster, who you’d been able to read since you were young, seems unreadable to you now. Other pilots that are usually lining up for you, don’t seem that interested (much to your dismay). You are apparently now unable to keep your feeling at bay and oh, right. You have a life-and-death mission in your hands, which is the icing on the cake. Lots of angsty discussions, lots of jealousy, and even dog fights. What else can you expect from a mission on Top Gun?

bradley 'rooster' bradshaw masterlist

playlist

prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine* | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter thirteen | chapter fourteen | chapter fifteen| chapter sixteen | chapter seventeen (scheduled a weeks from now- read early on my ko-fii!!!)

updates on monday, wednesday, friday

also, smut: *

silver spring | coriolanus snow

Description: Coriolanus Snow knows that he shouldn't have ended up this way. He knows that he was destined to be something better. The woman sleeping beside him is a testament of his reckoning, Lucy Gray is a ghost that he tries to forget. (Snow and Reader's marriage told through the cold beliefs of Coriolanus.)

Pairing: young-president!coriolanus snow/wife!reader

Warning: childbirth, major character death, angst, snow is haunted by lucy gray's memory.

"Time cast a spell on you But you won't forget me." - Fleetwood Mac.

[...] He was glad about the erasure. It was just another way to eliminate Lucy Gray from the world. The Capitol would forget her, the districts barely knew her, and District 12 had never accepted her as their own. In a few years, there would be a vague memory that a girl had once sung in the arena. And then that would be forgotten too. Goodbye Lucy Gray, we hardly knew you.

"Are you alright?" you cleared your throat seeing him in deep thought. There was always something mysterious inside the man that you married - he was always deep in thought. "You came to visit?" he seemed disinterested in what you had to say. "I-they told me that you didn't eat dinner yet," you managed to choke out.

He was very clear and precise. He told you that he couldn't stand you - that he hated you, and it was the very reason that you were wed.

An amused chuckle exits his mouth. "Aren't there more important things to have your attention?" he raised an eyebrow, staring at you up and down with that incredulous stare.

You seemed to amuse him - to some extent.

"- like running our household or gossiping with your friends." he mused, returning back to his paperwork. His statement made you feel awry, you were never the one to listen to gossip - the suggestion that you should do that only cemented the fact that he didn't know you - didn't bother enough to know you. "I was worried that you'd starve without dinner." you took another step forward.

He shakes his head.

"I will not die without dinner." he scoffed - dismissing you.

It was late at night when Coriolanus stumbled inside your room. By then, he could hardly make out the outline of your body on the bed.

He couldn't believe that the woman he hated - had finally become his wife. "Coriolanus," you mumbled - eyes trying to adjust with the dim light. "Did I wake you?" he removed his jacket, surprised at his tone. "N-No," you stuttered. A meek prey against him.

You moved slightly, leaving him enough space to lay beside you.

Coriolanus was surprised that you slept that quick - though, perhaps he was also thankful. He didn't want to create a reason for small talk. Your purpose in his life wasn't to be loved - it was to create children, and to strengthen his political prowess.

The moment he set his eyes on you - he vowed to never love or care for you. He couldn't afford to love again. He knows what love feels like - Lucy Gray manipulated him, both body and soul. Until now he doesn't know if she is truly dead. He wishes that she is.

He is snapped away from his thoughts again.

This time, you wrap your arms around him. His eyes widen in surprise, he opens his mouth to speak but he relents seeing your sleeping figure.

He may hate you, but it does not stop him from finding you beautiful.

It was a few months later when he sees you again - this time with good news. "They tell me that our child is the size of a small ball." you smiled, reaching for his hand and placing it on your stomach. This was one of the few moments where he showed his love. You were sat on his lap, almost inhaling his scent at the proximity.

It was all for show, you thought. He had guests in the courtyard, and they could see you from the window.

"I've thought of names, but I wanted you to choose too." you continued, licking your pink lips. Oh, Coriolanus wanted nothing than to kiss those lips right now - but alas, his ambition ruled him. "What are they?" he continued rubbing your belly.

"Brutus, if it is a boy and Lucy-"

"No, not Lucy. Something else." he demanded, interrupting you. "Josephine," you quickly replace and he nods.

"- but if there are other names that you prefer, you may choose." you stared deep into his eyes. "You bleed, you decide." he whispered, his hands trailing up to your neck. "Kiss me," he suddenly demanded.

"What?" your eyebrows merged into each other.

"There's people watching, kiss me."

And you obeyed him.

"As pure as the driven snow," you mumble while soothing the pain in your stomach. "What did you say?" Coriolanus raised an eyebrow. "Our child is as pure as the driven snow," you repeated - almost seeing his face in a dream. "Where did you come up with that?" he chuckled, slowly used to your company.

"You mumbled it in your sleep." you responded, continuing to write on your journal. "Well, I can't remember saying that anymore." he shrugged, feeling paranoia gnaw at his bones.

Lucy Gray, let me live.

"It sounds familiar, it's from that tribute - I watched her then, but its been so long I can't even remember." you chuckled, Lucy Gray Baird, the songbird from District 12.

You were enamored by her - intrigued by her voice. Your husband seems to be the same. "Is that why you wanted to name our child Lucy?" he questioned, her name tasted bitter on his tongue. "No, of course not - you'd never approve." you scoffed.

"Why wouldn't I? I don't know Lucy Gray personally." he lied once more, maintaining his narrative. "You told me that the Games were created to remind the Districts of what they are - animals." you remembered, not fully believing his speech. "You would hate me if I named our child after an ... well, someone that you hate."

"Good, and don't mention Lucy Gray ever again." his eyes narrowed.

I need it so badlyyyyyyyyy

would anyone be interested in ready a super angsty sad Harwin Strong one shot? Reader is Rhaenyra’s younger sister and married Harwin even though he continues his relationship with Rhaenyra? I know Harwin is super honorable but I can’t help but write for the unrequited love trope 🫣.

I freaking love this ❤️😭😭😭

Reggie x Reader: Fingers and thumbs, baby. (Epilogue)

A/N: SIKE BITCHEEEES. Y’ALL REALLY THINK I’D LEAVE IT LIKE THAT!? HELL NAH YOUR MOTHER HAS RETURNED TO PROVIDE LOVE YA XXX

Plot: When Reggie and (Y/N) have been bestfriends their whole lives but the universe had other plans.

Samantha stole another glance at the tall, gorgeous boy that seemed so keen on listening to everything that was coming out of their boring professor’s mouth. He was popular and friendly but still somehow remained a mystery, always kept to himself. Everybody was practically in love with him because aside from his well-built physique, friendly nature, and willingness to help those who need it he had this certain aura of vagueness around him which seemed to drag everyone in, makes them want to unlock more. As if there is so much more to be discovered aside from the glimpses of personalities he shows the world but nobody ever had the chance to be that close. Everybody knew him but at the same time nobody actually did.

When their professor finally ended his discussion Samantha stood up, ready to take the first step to become the first person to have the honor of actually knowing Reggie Mantle.

Or so she thought.

“H-Hey, Reggie?”

He looked at her before gracing her with a smile, making her heart beat twice as fast. “Hey, Samantha,” He adjusted his gym bag on his shoulders, probably preparing himself for his daily training. “Need anything?”

“Y-Yeah, actually, I was wondering,” she closed her eyes for a second to gather some courage. “Would you – would you like to get some coffee with me? Some time? If you’re not too busy.”

She swallowed as she waited for his response, afraid to look at his face for any sign of rejection. Then she heard a sigh and knew it was game over. She heard the stories, the rumors, how no one stood a chance because:

“Sorry, Sam,” Reggie really sounded sympathetic and she hated it. “I – I have someone –“

“I know.”  Samantha smiled, sadly, successfully cutting him off. She looked up at him despite the pain. “What a lucky girl.” She whispered more to herself than anything but Reggie seemed to hear it.

Reggie smirked before shaking his head. “You got it all mixed up, Sam.” Reggie said. “I’m the one who got lucky.”

He patted her head before walking away.

“W-What’s her name?” Samantha asked. Curious as to who got this beautiful boy’s fancy and got him hooked that he couldn’t even look at another girl ever again. Reggie’s mind immediately went to the memory of your smile, the way you’re hair danced messily in the wind when you were in the passenger seat of his car, the echo of your laugh in his room as you wore his shirt while running your hand across his hair, your beautiful 5 o’clock shadow as you stared outside the windows of Pop’s with the neon lights making you look ethereal and seraphic.

Samantha noticed that Reggie’s mind seemed to disappear to a happy place because he beamed, almost shining with happiness. Another glimpse, she thought, Reggie was really full of surprises and secrets.

“If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”

All the boys stared as Cheryl and (Y/N) walked together, with their arms crossed, talking quietly among themselves. How the meanest and nicest girls of the entire building managed to become bestfriends was beyond them but they would be lying if they say they weren’t a sight to behold. Especially (Y/N), known to be the kindest soul to ever grace their halls, who was always willing to extend a helping hand and always treat everybody with respect. A lot of boys tried to win her heart but none was very successful, in fact not qa single one even came close, because aside from the Red Widow by her side, a nickname she earned because of her careful yet poisonous words and her dedication to guard the little angel of New York University everybody gets the same response from her every time: a kind rejection. The kind of rejection that makes them feel bad for even trying and putting her through the dilemma of even rejecting them.

One poor soul gripped the bouquet of roses in his hands before daring to walk towards their table and try his luck, eyes on the back of (Y/N)’s head. He gave himself a mental pep talk trying not to chicken out but all of those words of inspiration and prayers were obliterated when he caught Cheryl’s eyes.

Cheryl seemed bored and emotionless, head resting on her palm, as she stared at another clueless boy trying to vouch for her bestfriend’s affection. She gave him the smallest glare, which usually meant ‘scram’ or ‘fuck off’, and smirked as she saw him make a 90 degree turn before walking out straight out the library.

“Cherry, stop scaring people.” (Y/N), who apparently wasn’t really focusing on her advanced reading, chuckled. “You’ll never get a boyfriend if you keep that up.”

Cheryl scoffed and flipped her long, almost fiery in this lighting, red hair. “Nobody deserves me, darling, and we both know it.”

“No we don’t,” You stared at her. “You should give them a chance.”

“That’s rich coming from you, sweetie.” Cheryl shot back making you blush. “Why don’t you give those unfortunate souls who are just begging for a glance from the angel of their dreams, a chance?”

You blushed even more. “You—I – You know I’m not into that, Cherry.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, who you tryna fool?” Cheryl smirked, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back on her chair. “And please, he was carrying roses, how cliché right? The right man would know you’re more of a sunflower girl.” She smirked. “Too bad the right man is in a far far away kingdom.”

You managed to give her a glare despite the heat on your face but she just laughed at your effort in looking mad. You just rolled your eyes, heart beating a little too fast at the memory of him.

“I’m just, such a good friend.” Cheryl dramatically fanned her face, as if she was about to cry, speaking a little too loudly in the library. “That bastard better be fucking grateful and buy me a Victorian-inspired mansion for all my effort in making sure his lil’ lovebird doesn’t get snatched by worthless peasants.”

“Cherry stop,” you whined trying to remove the attention away from the two of you, knowing nobody would have the guts to try and make her quiet but you.

“I’m gonna guilt-trip him his whole life, you just wait.”

“We don’t even know if he is still single.”

“Oh, we know.”

“How? I mean have you seen him? Boy’s like that doesn’t stay single for very long time in college.”

“Because I know him, and that boy is about as gone for you as you are for him,” Cheryl stated confidently. “And if you weren’t sure he is single, why are you still rejecting everybody left and right? Unless …”

“You are crazy.” You shook your head, not wanting to feed yourself any more false hopes. You don’t even know where in God’s green Earth he was staying at right now. You haven’t talked for almost four years now. You could but you decided not to because getting a little taste of that heaven will make you want him and miss him more and you don’t want to be running back to him when you are this close to your goal. That reunion will have to wait, and it seems like he was thinking the same thing, too.

Is he treating himself well?

Is he surrounded by good people?

Is he happy?

Does anything remind him of you? Even for just a second?

“(Y/N),” Cheryl was staring at something in her phone, eyes wide in shock. Whatever it was must be something big to actually surprise Cheryl. Cheryl shoved her phone at you as you read the article about a certain raven-haired boy that just won the Nationals in Indiana. “Point six hundred million for Cheryl. God, I hate being right all the time”

You ignored her as you read how Reggie Mantle, the captain, basically carried the whole game towards their victory with his agility, strategy, and strength. You reread the last paragraph of the article:

Mantle is not only a spectacular athlete but he is also an outstanding student with his top marks which will result to the possibility of him graduating as the top of his class. How he managed to balance his responsibilities, Reggie Mantle gave us an answer that left more questions than answers:

“You could say I have a pretty solid foundation and inspiration.” He said with a grin. “Though she is probably studying hard in New York too.”

Who is this mysterious lady that snatched Reggie Mantle’s heart? The world may never know.

“Hey man,” Reggie returned back to Earth when he heard his roommate, soon to be ex-roommate, in their toga with a big grin on his face. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Reggie took his hands and gave him a half-hug and a pat on the back. “I’ll see you.”

Jake plopped down on his bed, one last time probably. “Can’t believe you’re going pro, man. That’s big.”

“I know,” Reggie chuckled, picking up a football from the ground. “Even I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, as for me it’s the boring old office work.”

Reggie gave him a look before throwing at him the football which he caught with a lot of effort. “Shut up, Jake, you got a girlfriend who’s smart. She got you.”

Jake smirked. “Yeah she’s still pretty bummed about not getting that journalism job. She really wanted it.”

“I can’t believe someone actually beat Janine. Must be some miracle.” Jake’s girlfriend, Janine, was like a machine when it comes to her studies. So it came as a shock to everyone when she came barging in their room crying about how she did not get accepted to her dream job.

“Yeah, she told me it was taken by some monster that graduated from New York,” Jake chuckled. “Kept whining how the world is unfair cause the said monster was drop dead gorgeous, smart, and is now holding her dream job by the neck on her first try.”

“Wai- wait, back up,” Reggie stood up. “Did … did Janine say what the name of this said New York monster was?”

Jake seemed to think for a second and Reggie was literally on his tiptoes from the suspense. “I forgot man, I guess it was (Y/N) or something? I forgot the last na—“

Jake was cut off by Reggie’s jaw dropping in shock before genuinely laughing. Throughout their four years of being friends Jake has never seen Reggie this happy, even during his championship game. Reggie looked at Jake who was looking at him as if he grew a second head.

“Holy shit! I’m so sorry, man.” Reggie laughed once more, patting his shoulders sympathetically. “In behalf of her, let me apologize.”

“What do you mean?” Jake asked, genuinely confused.

“The New York monster that took the job from your girl?”

“Yeah …”

“That’s my girl.”

You just finished face timing Cheryl that was now living in London for some business transaction and she couldn’t stop bitching about the rain ruining her hair, which, in turn, just gave you something to laugh about.

“Good morning, stranger,” your favorite barista greeted you as you leaned in the counter.

“Hello, outsider,” You greeted her back. “Can I get my regular and a muffin?”

“Oooh muffin, you’re being a rebel today, huh?” she snickered as she handed you your favorite drink and a fresh muffin.

“I like to remain unpredictable.” You said as you handed her the exact amount and placed a twenty on the tip box.

“See you tomorrow, outsider.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You sighed as the hot drink touch your tongue, fucking heaven. As you were about to go in your car you felt a small tug on your coat. You turned around and saw a cute little kid that had gorgeous curly locks hiding a sunflower behind his back.

“Hey, there little bud.” You leaned down to minimize the distance between you and the kid. “Are you lost?” You looked around you. “Where’s your mum—“

You were cut off when he suddenly shoved you the sunflower in his handsand ran before disappearing right around the corner.

“What the …” You cracked a smile despite your confusion and saw a small card tied around the sunflower with a note that read:

There’s more from where that came from.

“What?”

Just as you were about to look for the little boy a tall figure suddenly appeared from your peripheral view. And just like in your wildest dreams, there he was: standing in front of you, beautiful as ever, holding a bouquet of sunflowers and wearing that smirk that made your stomach flip in the most beautiful way possible ever since you were kids.

“Reggie …”

Before you could utter another word he sped up his last two steps and cradled your face with his free hand for a kiss. A kiss, a kiss that you have imagined over and over again, a kiss that was foreign yet so goddamn familiar from the amount of times you have dreamt and daydreamed about it. A kiss from Reggie Mantle was all it took for your heart to beat the same irregular beats that was reserved only for him.

I took you a moment to recover from the shock but when you did you wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him in deeper. You waited too long for this kiss and you never wanted it to end and he probably had the same thought in mind. But sadly, like everything amazing, it had to, or else you were gonna die from lack of oxygen.

Reggie leaned in your forehead and laughed just as you started to giggle. “I guess you missed me?” you whispered.

“You have no idea, pup.” You started tearing up, not believing that after all these years he was finally here in your arms, looking at you with the same dark eyes and intense gaze that makes you want to melt.

“I’m – “

“I love you.” Reggie made her forget her train of thoughts with those words. “If the kiss didn’t make it clear enough. I, Reggie Mantle, is in love with you and swears to be in love with you in this lifetime and the next.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Pulling him in for another kiss. “Promise?” You offered him your pinky.

He laughed, crossing both of pinkies and pushed both of your fists and thumbs together.

“Promise.” He gave you another peck. “And, I believe you owe me a date.”

“Oh, do I now?” you teased, giggling when he tried to kiss your neck. “Where would you like to go?”

“I waited for years for this date, pup,” he said letting go of your face as he opted to wrap his arms around your shoulders as you wrapped yours around his waist. He gave you the bouquet which you held with your free hand. “I’ll go wherever the fuck you want.”

Breaking News! After dating for three years and being engaged in one, star football player, Reggie Mantle and his fiancé’ the award winning journalist and published author, (Y/F/N), has officially tied the knot in secret in their hometown, Riverdale, with only a chosen few people present, one note-worthy guest was Mrs. Mantle’s best friend, Cheryl Blossom, the CEO of Blossom Inc.  and world-renowned author of two award-winning novels in her spare time. It was said to be a big event despite the small town in Riverdale as stolen shots were taken of the grand wedding for the official photographs of the wedding was announced to be kept in private and not to be publicized in the request of the couple.

This power-couple had been best friends their whole lives and decided to tie the knot right after Reggie Mantle surprised his, now, wife with her dream house in California where they were rumored to finally settle. The couple is about to head into their 2-month honeymoon that will be spent in different cities around the world that they have planned to visit ever since they were kids.

After you’re done crying and emptying your box of tissue we dare you to find us a more perfect couple, we’ll wait.

(Y/N) was breathing in the fresh air from the morning breeze. She stared at the view from her balcony: the trees, the lake, and the city far, far away. Reggie really thought everything through when he built this house just for her. He built her a home where she is safe, contented, and happy and she could never thank him enough.

She jumped a bit when she felt a fluffy blanket, which turned out to be her robe, being wrapped around her by none other than her husband. Even after a year and a half of being married she still feels giddy thinking about Reggie being her husband. Finally.

“You okay?” Reggie whispered, afraid of breaking this serene moment as he hugged you from behind and gave you a peck on the side of your head.

You decided to face your husband and give him a proper good morning kiss, wrapping your arms on his waist as he wrapped his arms around you. “I feel perfect.” You nuzzled your face on his warm neck relishing on the comfort only he can give you. You looked up at him and saw him looking out at the view before turning his eyes on you making you wonder what you did in your past life to have a man like him to keep forever.

“We’re in love, aren’t we?”

He chuckled at your question before leaning hooking a stray hair in your ear. “I can’t speak for you but you got me pretty hooked, pup.” You looked up at him through your lashes to give him a glare as if to say ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ and Reggie grinned, the same boyish grin from when you were in Riverdale, giving you another kiss

“You don’t have to worry about that for a very, very long time, pup.” Reggie sighed, pulling you closer to him, as if that was possible.”Your heart won’t break around here. I’ll make sure of that.”

You squealed when he leaned down and hooked his arms at the back of your thighs and sat down, taking you in his lap. You watched as the sun rose quietly, sharing the morning coffee you made to help you get ready for the day, small kisses and giggles shared every now and then and in that exact moment you realized you could stay there forever and already find the life that was your definition of perfect

But then on cue you heard the familiar wailing of your two other babies on their bedroom making you giggle and Reggie groan, leaning on your shoulders. “Oh stop it, you were the one who was begging me for a baby.”

“I asked for one baby, pup. Just one, I’m blaming your fertile ass for this.” Reggie complained but was still ahead of you towards his babies room. He loved being a father and everybody knows it. When you were pregnant anxious would be an understatement when defining Reggie as he watched your every move and made sure you were eating only the best to make sure his babies would grow to become ‘as strong as me and as beautiful as their mother’. Heck, nobody could touch you without receiving a glare from Reggie which in turn would result to you smacking him in the head as he pouted but still continued to follow you around like a lost guard dog.

“Or we could blame you fucking me 12 times a day, every day? How about that?” You shot back.

“Hush, (Y/N/N), “ Reggie said as he cradled Cherry on his right arm and picked up the older twin, Jason, on the other. “My babies can hear you.”

“Oh they’re your babies now—“

“TOUCHDOWN BITCHES!” You heard the all too familiar slamming of the door open and Cheryl’s voice from below. “WHERE ARE MY DEAR DARLINGS?!”

“I can’t believe I actually gave that woman a spare key.” Reggie sighed, making you giggle. “Since when did she arrive from London?”

“Come on now,” you said as you took Cherry from Reggie making him pout. God, his daughter had him whipped. “Let’s go down before Cheryl wrecks havoc in here too.”

“I gotta share everything with her,” Reggie complained to a now sleeping Jason, as he went downstairs and saw Cheryl with a dollhouse and a toy car that looked too expensive and too realistic to be owned by a couple of 7 month old babies .”One day I’ll just snap and assassinate her, I swear to God.”

“I heard that, you ass!”

“You needed to hear it, satan!”

You couldn’t help but watch as Reggie and Cheryl bickered back and forth while Jason was silently sleeping in his crib and Cherry was babbling nonsense while sitting comfortably in your lap.

“Listen here Poison Ivy wanna-be, you’re spoiling my kids and they don’t even have the mental capacity to be spoiled yet.” Reggie complained.

“I am their godmother I can do what I want because I am richer than their father.”

“Excuse me,” Reggie seemed genuinely offended and you couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Who’s richer than who’ has been a small game in between Reggie and Cheryl, heck, even Archie, who is now an international song artist, and Moose who is an owner of a couple of successful gyms would join every now and then.

I guess nothing really ever truly changed. Reggie and Cheryl just can’t admit they love each other with a gun aimed at their heads, you were still hopelessly in-love with your husband, and he still looks at you as if you were the reason the sun continues to shine every morning. Only now you had two little angels to call your own and more money than you can spend.

Not bad for a shy girl from Riverdale who was secretly in love with her bestfriend.

You looked at your family, once more. Leaning back, placing Cherry on your chest, you sighed in contentment.

Not bad at all.

A/N: I’m gonna miss writing this so fucking much. Fuck.

Taglist

@captainsuperfangirl

@kimberlymazel

@annoyingsibling

@ooh-hannahsun

@belbow

@courageouslystupid

WTF I'VE BEEN CRYING MY EYES OUT BECAUSE OF THIS AND I CAN'T WAIT FOR PART 2!!!

fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

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

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

“What do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

At least, you thought you didn’t. 

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

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

“Are any crashes pretty?”

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

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

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

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

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

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

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

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

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment. 

He wasn’t going to let it escape him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

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

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

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

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

And somehow, you won. 

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

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

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

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

He was so proud of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who were you to turn that down?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The 2023 seat was yours. 

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

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

Usually, he was happy to see you.

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

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

Your heart sank. 

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

“What do you know?” you asked. 

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

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

“What was I supposed to do?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

stay tuned for part 2