WTF I'VE BEEN CRYING MY EYES OUT BECAUSE OF THIS AND I CAN'T WAIT FOR PART 2!!!
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
You’re King Viserys oldest daughter, hardly a year older than Rhaenyra, but it was Queen Alicent that has taken you under her wing after your mother died birthing your late brother, strengthening your very being with her own faith. You’re pious, though all your prayers resolve around one thing: being married one day to provide your husband with a healthy heir. A betrothal has already been made, but what if you want the opposite of your pious nature? Something that would make you feel alive just as much as riding your dragon does? You’ve been so faithful to the Seven, so it is only right they finally offer you something in return.
WARNINGS: See each chapter for individual warnings. Both chapters will include sexual content and canon typical incest between uncle and niece.
WORDS: —
NOTES: Yes, I know Aemond won the corruption poll (shocker, I know 💀), but the Daemon option hasn’t left my mind for a few days. The Aemond thing is in the works, too, and will probably be a mini-series as well! Based on this request. This won’t really be a series and more a One-Shot split into two parts because I hate posting things that are longer than 4K words. 🫠 Part 1 basically is the smutty bit and part 2 is the Valyrian wedding and a smutty bit.
Part 1 — coming 01/10/24
Part 2 — coming 01/19/24
Summery: Conrad brings his girlfriend from Boston to Cousins Beach for the first time and it’s safe to say that someone isn’t happy about it. (Told in Belly’s point of view)
Paring: Conrad Fisher x Girlfriend Reader
Warnings: Belly being a bit of a bitch to reader
coming September 21
I would die on the spot if my grandmother told me those things in front of my partner 😭😭
warnings: obscene language, reader talking back to elder people, sweet, fluff. That's all, I think? Haha!
pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader
summary:
The well-known Lady Thorn of Highgarden finally visited you after a year of being wed to Prince Aemond. However, you have a feeling it will not go well.
a/n: this was supposed to be a 100 followers thank you fic but I just finished it today lol Enjoy!
You have been acting up since earlier when your mother informed you that your grandmother decided to visit the two of you after many moons of being wed.
~~~~~~
"For someone who hasn't seen their grandmother for years, you seem not thrilled enough, my love." He gave a light chuckle when he saw your face with a sneer.
And you have a feeling that he was enjoying this different side of you.
You're always calm and collected and it was rare to see you so agitated about someone who used to be your mentor.
No, you're not like this because you're troubled she did not visit you sooner.
Nor, it was due to you not caring about her enough either.
It's the opposite.
You love her.......truly.
And you know her better than anyone in this kingdom. Her old bones, wit and all.
If you have been asked to give one word to describe her, that would be; a nuisance.
"Well, if I were you, you should too." He raised his eyebrow at that but the look of wonder was still etched all over his face.
"I still fail to understand what was so wrong in meeting, not just your grandmother but your teacher when you were young. I bet she can share stories I do not know about you, Lady wife."
"I also fail to understand why such a man of your stature was so excited to meet a chattering old lady, Lord husband." You said as a matter of fact.
At this point, you knew that he truly thinks you do not want to meet her for fear of hearing embarrassing stories about your childhood.
He did think about one thing right, but he did not hit the head in the nail on what your fear truly was for.
"Enlighten me, my love. What did your grandmother do to earn your ire?" Before you could share the reason for your distress, a servant's knock disrupted your conversation.
"Pardon me, my prince and my lady. Lady Tyrell was waiting in the sitting room." The servant bowed once she announced the arrival of your family. She stood near the door, waiting for your command.
With a sigh, you stood up and went near your husband. Your hand reaches for his hair and you run through your fingers on his soft locks. Your hand fixes the ones that always seem to find themselves unaligned.
He closes his eyes and leaves a soft "hmmm" on his lips as he savors the feel of your fingers through his hair.
"Are you certain you want me to go and waste my time with that old monster instead of doing this with you?" You smiled sweetly at him and pouted your lips to convince him not to let you go and finally meet your grandmother.
However, instead of saying yes, he chuckled and warm calloused hands clasped yours.
"As much as I love to do that and stay with you in our chambers, wrapped around my arms, your refusal to meet her might leave a wrongful impression towards who I am. So go now, dear wife, I know you'll come back to me safe and sound."
A grumble left you before you pecked his nose. He frowned a bit at your rebellious antics. You always give him a kiss on the lips and wish him well before he trains. But today, you're not giving him that.
Before he could protest though, you stuck out your tongue and winked at him. Leaving him on his own devices as you were escorted by the servant to the place you truly hoped not to visit today.
Even from afar, you can already hear your grandmother's feeble voice from old age. Yet, you know that despite the soft sounds, she's far from tender.
"Here I thought I'll meet my death bed first before you finally show up here." She said with eyes-closed while sipping her tea.
Trying not to roll your eyes, you smiled at the servant and dismissed her. You gave your mother a smile before you sat down beside her.
Servants who were standing closed immediately placed a cup and saucer in front of you. They also filled the table with new biscuits and sweets.
"Well, I guess my timing's not that impeccable because I would have waited more just to see that." The servant who was filling up your tea almost let go of the teapot from shock on what she heard. But as she was a highly trained servant from the palace, she composed herself right away and bowed once she finished her task.
Meanwhile, your mother let out a cough and a choked sound of surprise before deciding to dismiss the servants fully and avoid any more witness from your family banter.
"I can't believe you call yourself a lady with that manners." Once all the servants were dismissed, your grandmother spoked again.
"Apologies, mother. I will make sure to teach her the proper decorum again later." Your mother gave you an eye and you just rolled your eyes at her.
"Not my granddaughter. She's perfect as is. I meant you. Who would have choked on her own tea?" Her feeble voice cracked from hoarseness as she raised her voice, scolding your mother.
A knowing look was passed between you and your mother as she gaped at your grandmother from shock.
If you do not respect your mother, you would have said I told you so.
"Anyway, enough lessons about etiquette. How was the life of being a wife, my favorite grandchild." Even without a mirror, you can see your face twitched from annoyance.
This old hag was indeed testing your patience. It has been a year since your wedding. You'll understand if she did not come to your wedding due to an official business. However, all those times, she was sitting on her favorite chair, sipping her warm tea, inside her chambers in Highgarden.
"It was well, until you decided to come here and ruin it for me." At this point, your mother feigned ignorance and continued with her afternoon tea. She's smarter now as she realized that your grandmother came here for you with an agenda. You're trying to decipher what it was. Yet, you have a feeling you know it already.
"If that was true then, when are you going to give me my grandchildren? Are you impotent? Because I believed based on stories inside these walls, your lord husband made your legs wobble on several occasions. I can only assume that problem was you." The cutlery rang when you put your cup down full of anger from her statement.
It wasn't as if you did not want a child either but no matter how much you did it with Aemond throughout that year, you were still not blessed with a baby. Your husband, the ever sweet partner, assured you that it was fine. Some couples had the hardest time having children and there was no rush.
The insult stings, especially, since it was your family who mentioned it.
"If that was the reason for your visit then I'd rather spent more time doing it with my husband than wasting my time here talking to a wrinkled old thorn." You were about to leave your seat when suddenly, your grandmother grabbed your arm and pulled you back down.
"Oh dear. Your patience was still shorter than my lifespan. Sit back down and let this wrinkled old thorn finish what she was trying to discuss." Still fuming, you followed her but crossed your arms in defiance as you stared straightly in her eyes.
"Well, I would not even agree that you were impotent as our family were known to have no problems with giving birth compared to the Targaryen. But still, answer my question truthfully.
.
.
.
.
.
When you're doing it, have you tried using your mouth and licking the tip while massaging his balls so he'll enjoy it. In my time, ladies let their husbands cum first and that method was certain to make them pregnant after a month." Your mother who was quietly listening to your discussion was left coughing violently at your grandmother's shameless words in broad daylight. The tea she was holding splashed everywhere as she tried to compose herself.
To help her calm down, you put your hand soothingly on her back. Your face red with shame as your grandmother continued her obscenities and the advice for the right position to get pregnant next time.
When she realized that you and your mother gave her silence as she told you what must be done, she looked in your direction and raised her eyebrow at your reddened looks.
"Ha! I do not understand why the two of you act as if you did not know what I am saying. Stop pretending to be prim and proper! A man can do and tries everything when he's fucking every lady on these realm but a lady had a chance to only do it with once with one man on her lifetime. Enough with this nonsense and do me a favor and use this." You almost backed away when she suddenly stood up and placed a bag inside your hands. The bag emits a strong sweet smell you've never smelled before.
"What is this?"
"An aphrodisiac."
As if your skin was burnt by the bag, you immediately throw it on the table and stay as far away from it as possible.
"Have your old brain finally given up?" You yelled at your grandmother. Fingers pointing at her accusingly. You can feel the hotness run from your face to your ears and you know that you looked just like an apple from how red you were.
"Oh hush now. Me and your grandfather used to add that to our tea and it always ended up with a child so that product's safe from testing. Not that we need it much but the feeling we have after using it was something I missed so much. Believe me, it will just help your body relax and be more sensitive from your partner's touches compared to other aphrodisiacs." The disgust you felt when you saw her close her eyes and shudder from remembering what she did with your grandfather were so immense you felt all the hair in your body rise.
"Oh gods. My dear ears." On the other hand, your mother's laments as she tries to console her ears and head from what she heard today.
A sudden knock made you jump from where you were standing and you three looked at the door and waited for the announcement of whoever was on the other side.
"Lady Tyrell, his grace, the prince Aemond Targaryen is here to see you."
"Let him in. Let me see my grandson-in-law." Before you can react, your grandmother smiled wickedly at you and announced to let your husband in.
Panicked, you grabbed the bag and put it inside your dress, where a hidden pocket was made.
Your husband came in with a warm smile but frowned when he saw your pale face and rigid body as you stood near a chair.
He titled his head at you in silent question about what happened when your grandmother opens her mouth to greet him.
"If this wasn't the infamous one-eyed prince who was able to tame the biggest dragon at such a young age." A toothy grin was plastered on her face and she walked towards your husband. She opened her arms and hugged him tightly. She also patted him loudly and the gesture confuses your husband but let her do it.
"Hmmm... I know now why my granddaughter is protective of you. I will surely climb you if I am a little bit younger."
The world stopped as you tried to understand what your grandmother said to your dear husband.
You were just glad that your husband did not skip his etiquette classes as he was able to compose himself right away and gave a proper answer from that obscene remark.
"You flatter me, Lady Thorn." He replied with a smile.
Your grandmother chuckled at that and decided to walk back in her seat. But when she passed your way, she whispered something that only your ears can hear.
"If you do not pull him away from this place, I will make sure to make his ears bleed." You looked at her incredulously as she sat back down with a soft look on her face.
Blinking, you looked at your mother, who was still red, and looked back at your husband who was staring at your mouth agaped expression then back to your grandmother, who ordered another servant to bring another warm tea like normal. As if she did not just whisper the most absurd order you've heard.
Without further ado, you stride towards your husband with a purpose and grab his arm away from the chamber.
"Make sure to use my gift tonight, my favorite grandchild." Your grandmother reminded you with a wink.
All you were able to say was a loud groan and you stomped away dragging your husband with you.
"What was that?" He asked. Obviously confused with your manners.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." Looking at your husband's face, your thoughts immediately come back from the nights he kisses your skin and presses himself closer to you. Thanks to your grandmother's scheme.
Stepping backwards farther in his direction, you stride and start running away.
He called your name many times but you can't look back as you slapped both of your cheeks from embarrassment.
How could you feel so turned on in the middle of the corridors just from staring at him. You groaned as you felt your core slicken from just the thoughts of him.
With a scream, you look at the clear sky with determination.
You will prove to your grandmother that you do not need that tea to enjoy your husband's company and bear his child!
~~~~~~
Meanwhile, back inside the room, Lady Tyrell cleared her throat and finally opened her mouth to talk to Lady Thorn.
"Do you truly need to edge her that way? I believe they're doing their best."
"Then, their best was not enough. With that type of husband, I can't believe she was having a hard time having a child. All she needed was a little push. I know it." The old lady smiled to herself and sighed as she looked outside and witnessed the beauty of spring.
She was sure that this will be a fruitful year for the Highgarden.
Summary: Bucky is going to confront you for why you have been avoiding him but when he comes home he finds out you have been kidnapped
Warning: Mentions of kidnapping and torture
Part 1 Part 3
Bucky couldn't bear the growing distance between you any longer. He knew he had to talk to you and stop the tension that had been building. The constant absence of your touch, your laughter, and your presence had made him realize just how much he needed you.
One evening, as he mustered up the courage to have the conversation, he decided to surprise you at home. He wanted to show you that whatever he did wrong he deeply regrets it and stop whatever had caused this sudden change in your behavior.
However, when Bucky entered the apartment, he found it eerily quiet. The atmosphere felt heavy, and his heart clenched with a sense of foreboding. He called out your name, but there was no response.
Panic surged through his veins as he quickly searched every room, hoping to find you. It was then that he noticed something off—a broken vase on the floor, shattered glass scattered across the room.
Bucky's hands trembled as he desperately dialed your number, hoping against hope that you would answer. But each ring went unanswered, intensifying his anxiety. Fear gnawed at his heart as he realized something was terribly wrong. Where were you? Why weren't you picking up?
Unable to waste any more time, Bucky quickly dialed Sam's number, his voice filled with urgency. "Sam, it's Y/N. She's in trouble. I can't reach her, and I don't know where she is. I need your help."
Sam's voice conveyed his concern as he responded, "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm on my way. We'll find her together. Just hold on."
Bucky's mind replayed every moment, every conversation, searching for any signs he might have missed. Anything that could show what had happen to you. Bucky's mind raced with worry as they searched for any sign of your whereabouts. Doubt gnawed at his thoughts, questioning every decision he had made leading up to this moment. Did I miss any signs that something was wrong? Should I have noticed your distress sooner?
But as the minutes ticked by, Bucky's conviction grew stronger. Deep down, he knew you would never willingly leave him without a word. Your love had been genuine, your connection real. It didn't make sense that you would simply disappear without a trace. His gut told him that something was terribly wrong.
That is when he saw Sam walk in with a computer in his hand. "Well I asked the landlord for the security cameras and he was happy to give it to Captain America." Sam says laughing trying to lighten the mood as he sits down, but no reaction from Bucky. "Well what did you find?" Bucky says eagerly. "I see that Y/N got captured while heading in, but its a little blurry to see the number plate." Sam says while showing Bucky "But I do know someone who can get it, wait here." Sam walks out to make a phone call.
The guilt intensified, a suffocating presence that threatened to consume him. He blamed himself for not being there, for not protecting you when you needed him the most. His mind raced with a barrage of "what ifs" and self-recrimination.
Sam comes back awhile later to inform Bucky he found where Y/N is held captive and they rush off to find you.
✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦
Y/N's heart raced as she found herself trapped, held captive by Brock. She knew Bucky would come for her, and she held onto that hope tightly. But the more Brock tortured he, she felt as if all that hope was slipping away.
"Poor, poor Y/N I really thought your boyfriend would save you" Brocks says putting a knife near your neck. "I can't believe he would let someone as precious as you thrown away"
"I don't give a fuck what you believe" you say spitting at brock
Brock punches you and you feel blood come out of your moth. "You need to learn to not be a bitch, before we can play". You can see the look Brock gave you and it didn't make you feel good. He starts to walk away and comes back with collar and puts it on you. You try moving your neck but you feel a sudden pain of electrical shocks.
He lifts your chin up "You better hope your boyfriend comes in time, because a few more shocks and your dead" he says with a smile while he walks outs.
✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦
A few hours later you see the door open in but the tears in your eyes make it hard for you to make out the figure. There was so many of Brock's henchman here you couldn't tell which one was Brock or not.
That is when she caught a glimpse of Bucky hiding behind some crates. Bucky gave you a soft smile while he disapeared into the dark.
However, luck seemed to elude him as a creaking floorboard betrayed his presence. The sudden sound alerted Brock's henchmen, who immediately converged on Bucky, trapping him within their grasp. Bucky's heart raced as he found himself outnumbered, but he refused to back down.
As the first henchman lunged at him, Bucky swiftly dodged the attack. He retaliated with a powerful punch, sending his assailant crashing into a nearby wall. But there was no time to savor the victory as the others closed in, their fists flying.
Amidst the chaos, Bucky caught a glimpse of Sam swooping down from above. The familiar wings of his Falcon suit glinted in the darkness.
You saw while Bucky was fighting the henchman, Sam was taking you out of the facility and to the hospital. "You okay there, were almost to the hospital, then I'll go back for buck" Sam says holding you tightly as he brings you to the hospital. But you eyes start to close slowly, you didn't want to hold on for life anymore, you didn't want to be Bucky's burden, you just wanted some peace.
@vicmc624 @cjand10 @marygoddessofmischief @matchat3a @blue-chup @floralwsloki @kentokaze @internet-infuencer @666yourmomdotcom @zzziea @maddieislost @madi-is-kinda-lame @openup-yourmind @almosttoopizza @specialsnowflake-gabbi
you and I are made of fire
Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader
Summary: A tourney at Winterfell will change your life forever...
Warnings: canon-typical stuff, messing with the original timeline
• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen • summary: a dragon meets his match
• chapter 2 • ñuha prūmia • my heart • summary: celebrations after the tourney
• chapter 3 • ñuha ābrazȳrys • my wife • summary: you are presented to the court
• chapter 4 • ñuha dārilaros • my prince/my princess • summary: another celebration, another wedding
• chapter 5 • ñuha zaldrītsos • my little dragon • summary: you prove that you have more than enough fire in you
• chapter 6 • ñuha dārys • my king summary: a new king is crowned
a 7 part jjk drabble series based on the explicit version of ‘seven’. release tbc.
how it will work: each day of the week is assigned a different lyric from the single ‘seven’ by jjk. each drabble will feature its own environment & kink(s) that correspond to the associated lyric.
series masterlist:
1. monday: sęx in the workplace - “got you skipping work and meetings”
2. tuesday: sęx in a car - “its the way that you can ride”
3. wednesday: sęx outside - “i kiss your waist and ease your mind”
4. thursday: sęx in a hot tub / bathtub - “you know night after night, i’ll be fuckin' you right”
5. friday: sęx in a secret space - “so break me off another time”
6. saturday: sęx while gaming - “you wrap around me and you give me life”
7. sunday: sęx in the kitchen - “wind it back, i’ll take it slow, leave you with that afterglow”
pairing: seven!jungkook x f!reader (afab) genre(s)&au(s): non idol, slice of life, established relationship, smut, fluff, minor tiny angst warnings & smut warnings: all drabbles will come with their own warnings upon release w/c: all drabbles will come with their own word count upon release rating: 18+ banner: @caelesjjk
taglist [open]: - comment below! - ageless & empty blogs will not be included & minors will be blocked. update: AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE IGNORED
note1: this is something new that ive never tried before, so i do hope people will show it some love ♡ note2: thank you to my sarah for not just the banner but for also listening & sharing ideas over the last 2 days to create this series
who gets me WHO GETS ME!!!!!
( insanely in love with him ; I love him sm 🙏)
"we have never heard the devil's side of the story, seeing as god wrote the book"
warnings: explicit language, drinking, motorsport accidents, mentions of sex, mentions of death, mature themes
graphic by @schuvries 🫶🏻
chapter zero
edits
playlist
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
chapter eighteen
Fuck that hurts like a lot
aemond targaryen x reader
author's note: eek this is my first angst fic and i have no idea if its good so please leave comments and feedback!! its very loosely based off othello with ofc aemond as othello and the reader as desdemona. this can be read alongside my other aemond x reader but also can be read alone!! i am working on part two for my other aemond x reader but i'm struggling w ideas so please drop me a message if you have any!! also please comment if you'd like to be added to my aemond x reader taglist <3
genre: very angsty, prepare for tears
the love between aemond and his dear wife would be in the history books one day, he was sure of it. there would be songs, poems and ballads written about the ardent love between them. a love which their great, great grandchildren would aspire to have. their love was refreshing in the court, all the other marriages were ones of duty but theirs was one of love.
that was until everything tumbled down. when you first became with child, you were estatic, you ran to tell your husband, who was over the moon. however, rumours had spread of your infidelity, that you had laid with one of the knights of the kingsguard and that you were pregnant with a bastard. at first, aemond didn't believe it, his beloved wife would never do such a thing. but he started to let his self doubt overcome his love for you.
"have you seen the knight? he's a far better swordsman and far better looking than the prince, you can't blame the princess."
aemond became overcome with jealousy and insecurity. it made sense to him, why would someone as perfect as you be with something as blemished as him.
then there was the stocking incident. one of your stockings, with your initials on it was found where the kingsguard trained which led everyone, including king aegon and prince aemond to believe you to be unfaithful.
you were walking in the gardens when you saw your husband. you had a smile on your face whilst your husband barely made eye contact with you. "what is it my love, you have been ignoring me?" you asked with concern evident in your voice.
"do not call me your love when you are carrying anothers bastard." aemond replied sharply.
"you do not believe the rumours? do you? aemond i love you, you know that? please don't do this." you took a step back and could feel your voice falter.
"i have arranged for our chambers to be separated. your maids will know where it is they will take you. the king was ready to have you killed but your family are needed." he said quickly and walked straight past you. it hurt him to see that he hurt you. he wanted to go back and apologise but his pride and insecurity got the better of him.
being isolated took a toll on you and your pregnancy. you were struggling greatly with no husband or friends in court other than your handmaid who you appreciated greatly. you saw how your mother was when she was pregnant and she wasn't anywhere near as unwell as you were. you were going to send a letter to your parents asking for their guidance but decided against it, you didn't want your father to storm down kings landing. breakfast, lunches and dinners you would spend alone in your small chambers as your husband refused to be in the same room as you, which hurt you greatly. you loved aemond so dearly, you went for spending to everyday together to months apart. most days you would spend weeping in your chambers praying to the gods for any form of relief. you preferred staying in your chambers than walking around court. you would recieve stares, looks and laughs from everyone around. it broke your heart, you had good relationships with everyone, with alicent, otto, daeron, haleana and even aegon, who would refer you to as his "good sister". now they don't even look in your direction.
it was his nephews nameday celebrations which hurt you the most. you played the role of the perfect wife, in the perfect relationship which almost had you believing that aemond was still in love with you, that was until he whispered in your ear that it was all a pretence.
but that didn't stop you from loving him. though you wished it did, maybe it would hurt less if you didn't love him anymore. at whatever opportunity to ask about his wellbeing you would, you even went as far as asking his mistress, who took pity on you and kept you updated. you still prayed for his health every night and prayed that the mother would take pity on your soul and relieve you of the pain.
although aemond was smart, he wasn't as smart as his grandfather, the hand. otto had his doubts regarding the infidelity rumours he had his child spies keep tabs all over westeros and after eight months of digging, he found the truth.
"speak up boy, tell the king what you heard"
the young boy bowed to the king before the hand's spy told the council what he heard,
"the rumours regarding the princess' infidelity were created by daemon and his old whore."
aemond looked up in shock, he felt his blood boil as he held the arm of his seat tighter.
"it was said that daemon knew the easiest way to seperate the greens was through his "fickle nephew" and that once word of the princesses disrespect reached the riverlands, they would switch alleigances to the blacks."
an uncomfortable silence hung the room. all eyes were on aemond who felt a mixture of anger, guilt and distraught. he spent the past 8 months slighting and hurting his chaste lady wife. the king knew his brother well enough to know how his mind was racing,
"i promise you brother we will take down the blacks. you will be the one to take our wretched uncle yourself i swear this to you brother."
once again silence befell the room. aemonds face was unreadable. the council sat in fear of his reaction as his mother held his hand in hopes to calm him down.
"eight months. for the past eight months my lady wife has been with child with my child and i have not spent a single day with her. the lady wife who loved me so loyally has spent eight months confined to a chamber not fit for a princess because of that pathetic cunt. no, his death would not satisfy me. i need more." the calmness in aemond's voice evoked a deep fear in the room. daemon's doing caused aemond's beloved to suffer at his own hand, they all knew that aemond would not rest until she was avenged. "as for now i need to see my lady wife."
as aemond got up from his seat, a maester and midwife covered in blood, sweat and tears entered. the only lady pregnant was his wife. his heart dropped. this couldn't be happening.
"your graces. the princess entered her labours a moon early-"
before the maester could even finish, aemond ran out of the room and straight to his wifes pathetic excuse of a chamber as fast as his legs could take him with ser criston his mother, grandfather and both his brothers close behind him. when he saw the limp body of his once beloved wife he fell to his knees.
"no, no, no. wake up my love, my love please. my love i am so sorry. please no my sweet girl come back to me, open your eyes once more, you do not need to forgive me my love, i will spend the rest of eternity at your feet please just come back to me. i was wrong my love, i'm so so sorry." he cradled her dead body, begging for her to awaken, praying to every and any god to bring his sweet girl back to him. he was overcome with guilt and anguish, the last memory he had with her ended with her heart shattering.
it was two months ago. you had a feeling that something was wrong with you or your babe but none of the maesters in court believed a word you had to say since the rumours.
"please aemond just listen to me for a second, i need to see the maesters in my fathers home, they will know what to do, they saved my mother once before." you begged aemond as you trailed after him with abnormal aches in your body.
"why? so you can run off to your father with that bastard and face no consequences? no you will stay him and have that bastard here and face punishment from the king himself." there was no mercy in aemond voice or gaze. he saw the way your face and body crumpled. his words cut deeper than any blade and you couldn't hide it. he felt a pang of guilt in his heart but he pushed it aside.
aemond felt the bile rising in his throat after remembering his last encounter with you. gods he would do anything to turn back time and fix things. he was so fixated on ignoring and avoiding you that all good memories of you were distant.
"i do not remember the sound her voice mother. i do not remember the sound of the voice that spent countless nights whispering sweet nothings to ail my troubled mind. i do not remember the delicate touch of the lady who dedicated herself to comforting me." aemond confessed with a heavy heart, staring and clutching on to his wife's cold body.
"please aemond do not do this to yourself-"
"do what mother? torture myself? torture myself as i tortured my wife? as if carrying a babe was not torture enough, i tortured her even further by abandoning her when she needed me the most. she had no one apart from her one handmaiden and tis no ones fault but my own. how could i doubt her? how could i be so foolish? the last time we spoke, she insisted that something was wrong with her or the babe and i ignored her. i killed her mother."
"yes, yes you did my lord." spoke up your handmaiden with your newborn daughter sleeping soundly in her arms.
"you can cut my tongue, kill me do whatever you like with me, my loyalties are not with you but the the princess whos blood is on your hands. she loved you so dearly, yet you turned on her with no hesitation after hearing baseless rumours. her father was ready to have his men pledge alliegance to the blacks after hearing your treatment towards his only daughter but she told her father that it was all lies spread by the blacks and that you still loved her. she prayed to the gods everyday that once the babe was born and you would see how that it is your trueborn child you would love her once more. but now she is longer with us and she died with a broken heart."
as ser criston drew his sword ready to cut the throat of the maid, the prince piped up,
"leave her be ser criston. she said no word of lie. no harm should come to the only lady who stood by my beloved's side when she was alone. i am in debt to her. you are free to leave my lady, i will ensure all provisions are made for you."
"as kind as your offer is my prince, i promised the princess that in case of her untimely death, i would remain beside her daughter until her eighteenth nameday and to hand you this letter." aemond looked up for the first time since he entered the cursed chambers as your handmaid passed the baby to his mother
"i have a daughter?" his voice trembled. you both always dreamed of having a daughter and whilst he wanted his youngest child to a girl, you wanted the eldest to be a girl. but that dream was now thwarted.
alicent choked back a sob as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. "she's tiny aemond. she has your targaryen hair and eyes but she is her mother through and through."
he was lost for words. he couldn't fight it anymore as he began to sob as he cradled your body just the way his mother cradled his babe.
"read the letter out loud my lady. i treated my wife terribly there is nothing left to hide."
your handmaid was hesitant at first but read your last letter to your husband out loud.
"my dearest husband, dear husband,
you recieve this letter due to my untimely death but our child lives on. i do not know if this is news is joyous for you or one of regret but please do not take your hatred for me out on our child. i know our child will look like you as i have never laid with another but i am unsure to if you will ever believe me.
when you remarry and have other babes of your own, ensure that they all love one another and that their stepmother loves them the same. if you cannot ensure this, send our child to my parents, where they will be cherished.
please remember the love we once shared and share that love with our babe. i know that you may not want to to keep the portraits of us and of myself, but i beg of you to do so, even if its just one of myself. i would like for our child to know what their mother looked like. regardless of what happened between us, it hurts to say that i still love you as i did when i first fell in love with you. i hoped it wouldn't end like this but the gods work in mysterious ways.
your lady wife."
no one could hold back their tears. aemond knew the letter would hurt him, but knowing that she died thinking that he hated her, that he would remarry and that he may even celebrate her death killed him. he thought that the stranger visiting him would be less painful than what he was feeling at that moment.
"leave me be, i would like to say goodbye to my wife alone."
as he gazed upon her sleeping face, it set in to him that he would never wake up to her again. he would never hear her laughter again. he would never see her smile again. he pushed her hair back behind her ear as he used and pressed his forehead against hers. he could no longer fight the tears as his voice broke whilst speaking to you one last time,
"how could i ever hate you, my perfect girl? you have been nothing but good to me. you, who showed me what love is, you who made this pointless life worth living, how could i celebrate your depature. i love you my sweet girl. i love you so so much. and how could you think i would ever remarry, my darling? you captured my heart and now you've taken it to the grave with you. i cannot explain how sorry i am, gods i hope somewhere somehow you can hear me. i pray that the gods punish me for the way i hurt you. i allowed my anger, jealousy and doubt get the better of me. i was a fool to not trust you. you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be like this in my arms, we should be in bed, choosing names for our babe who shouldn't have been born yet. who looks just like you by the way. she's the only reason why i'm still here. for her. for you. i will tell her the stories of her one of a kind mother, i pray to the gods she'll be just like you. i will have even more paintings comissioned of us, of you my angel, anything you desire. until next time, my dearest lady wife, i love you."
as aemond laid her cold body down back on the bed, tucked her in and kissed her one last time, he found a small box under her pillows. it was covered in blood from her labors but it was still wrapped like a gift nonetheless. he opened to find 3 matching necklaces. one fit for a man. one fit for a woman. and one fit for a baby girl. all with a sapphire in the middle.
taglist: @fultimefangirl @hc-geralt-23 @vivianeviolet @whatsonthemirror @69cocktimusprime
*tags w a line through didn't work!!
you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3
THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️
Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?
Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts
Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.
Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”
He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”
He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”
Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”
“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.
She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”
Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”
“I was standing up for myself!”
“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”
“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”
“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”
“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”
“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.
“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.
Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.
Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”
Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”
Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”
The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.
“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.
Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”
Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.
Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”
She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”
—
“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”
“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.
Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”
Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”
Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”
“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.
Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”
The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”
Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.
There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.
Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.
It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.
He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.
“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.
She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.
“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.
He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.
Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”
His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.
Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.
“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”
Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?
Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”
He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.
He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.
These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.
Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.
She can’t get feelings.
She won’t get feelings.
And that was that, she decided.
“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”
She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.
Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”
He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”
She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”
As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.
“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.
She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.
He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”
He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.
For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.
What a dangerous game.
—
Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.
She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.
He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.
He’s worried about her.
A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.
The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.
Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.
That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.
The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.
He wouldn’t risk that now.
Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.
“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.
He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.
Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.
“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.
“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.
“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.
She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.
Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.
“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.
“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.
Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”
“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.
“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”
Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.
Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.
Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”
Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”
She nods, “Yeah.”
They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.
“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.
She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”
Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.
“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.
If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.
Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.
Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.
When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”
“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.
He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.
Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.
It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.
His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.
“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.
She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.
Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.
Lando’s drink that’s completely full.
🏎️
Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.
His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.
All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.
The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
All I need is your love tonight.
The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.
His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.
Fuck it, he thinks.
He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.
No cameras, no fans, no press.
Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.
All I need is your love tonight.
—
“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.
Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”
He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”
She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”
He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”
She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.
When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”
She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”
He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”
Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”
He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.
A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”
Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.
“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.
His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.
He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.
“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.
The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.
He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.
After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.
He loves this. He loves he-
“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.
He can’t be feeling that way.
He isn’t.
Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”
The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”
Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”
Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.
He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”
You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.
The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.
She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.
She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.
By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”
He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”
He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.
Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.
Had he always meant everything?
—
Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”
There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.
Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.
“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.
Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”
Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”
Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”
Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.
Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.
“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.
Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.
Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”
He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”
His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.
“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.
It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.
Y/n’s car.
Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”
Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”
Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.
Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.
“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.
He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”
The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”
“How much help?”
Silence.
Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”
“She’s not moving.”
Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.
Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”
Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”
Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”
Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.
When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.
He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.
There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.
There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.
When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.
Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”
She nods, “Will be.”
“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.
They really were selling this.
Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”
He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”
Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.
“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”
The truth hangs in the air painfully.
They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.
All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.
Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.
And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.
—
“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.
He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.
“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.
Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.
With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.
The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.
With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.
Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”
She nods, “Always.”
A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.
In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.
At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.
Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.
How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.
🏎️
Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.
He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.
They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.
“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.
Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”
Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”
He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”
She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”
Of fucking course, he thinks.
“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.
Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.
“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.
“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.
Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”
Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.
They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”
Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.
“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”
His response, easy and light, crushes her.
Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”
Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.
He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”
Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”
Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”
He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.
Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”
Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.
A look of intense love.
She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”
He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.
🏎️
Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.
She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”
As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.
Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”
He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”
“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.
Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”
Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”
Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”
Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”
Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”
His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”
I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.
Those things go unsaid.
Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”
She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”
“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.
The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?
Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”
She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.
“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.
He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.
She isn’t. How could he say that?
How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?
How could he let her get away?
A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE