#(max just turned 19 that weekend) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fernandopiastri28 · 1 month

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i bet on losing dogs

Toro Rosso, Red Bull, Renault, McLaren, Racing Bulls. Each one just doesn't fit for Daniel. It doesn't matter how hard he tries- he finds himself in an endless pit of a lack of self worth and doubt. After losing his McLaren seat to Oscar for the 2023 season- he believed that would be it for his f1 career. Until the divine intervention of each and every occurence of Nyck's rookie year landed him a spot at Alpha Tauri. Now, it was just a matter of time until he fucked that up to.

orginally posted to my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernandopiastri28/works

Shit shit shit.

The car feels so fucking bad, all janky and undrivable around the 34 year old’s worn out body. No matter how hard Daniel tries to focus on trying to keep the car from crashing into the wall, understeer is getting the best of him and he feels control slipping away further from him.

It's pure betrayal. The racing bulls had been so good in preseason testing, him and Yuki had been getting podium placements throughout- now he’s barely managing to take p17, swiftly avoiding DNFs. Of all races for this to be happening, it's in his own home race. He has thousands of devoted Australian fans out in the crowd watching him, watching him screw up and bring shame to his own country.

Yet, it hardly even feels like his home race. Ever since Oscar joined the year prior- essentially ‘taking’ his seat from underneath him, Oscar is the Australian in formula 1. Daniel is just the smiley guy who ‘deserves’ a seat, until he gets one and suddenly Liam deserves it more instead.

He doesn’t hear the end of it, blaring over and over in his ears that he’s ‘washed up’ and ‘undeserving’ of a spot. It’s such a drastic flip on the narrative he’d been force fed ever since his end of contract with McLaren had been announced at the end of 2021, that he ‘deserved the second seat at Redbull more than Checo’, that Oscar would be a ‘hopeless addition to the sport’, that he would ‘fail drastically,’. But due to how sheerly impressive oscars rookie year was, that ideal had been quickly discarded and the pure want for ricciardo in the sport was beginning to fade.

He’d spent the first time in a while feeling wanted when that was all going on. People from all over the world who loved the sport flocked together to support him- lest it was at the expense of a young talent entering the sport- a kid that Daniel was supposed to protect and support. He did so, showing Oscar the utmost respect and encouragement whenever seemed fitting.

It had been particularly impressive when the boy had scored his maiden formula 1 points at this very track only the year before, and now he was looking well onto securing a third podium position for his career. God, Daniel hadn’t gotten his first podium until his fourth year in f1 in 2014- at 25 years old then, he was looking far less impressive than the younger Australian.

His radio crackles in his ear, his engineer murmuring about how his former teammate and current world champion, Max Verstappen, had been forced to withdraw from the race three laps in. Daniel hissed into where his helmet squeezed against his chin, if even Max couldn’t complete this race- how would he?

The following laps were agonising, not a single overtake was performed or even attempted by the curly haired man. With Max retiring hardly into the race, Hamilton following with a power unit failure, and Russell crashing on turn 6 in the final lap, he already had three drivers below him. Poor Sargeant had had his seat taken away during fp2 after Alex crashed out his own car, the American being forced to give up his race weekend for his teammate. That was formula 1 though, giving up your spot- your hard worked for and deserved place in the sport- because you do what you’re told. Because of his complete lack of appearance, there were only 19 drivers to start with at the beginning of the race.

Both Kick Saubers and Alpines are behind him, Gasly creeping up onto his car’s rear. His current p12 grid placement is hardly impressive for a driver who had the potential to be a world champion only a few years prior.

Maybe if he’d stayed at Red Bull.

He pulls his car to a halt, his boney fingers wrapping around the sweat crusted handles of his steering wheel. His joints click awkwardly as he removes his hands from inside the car, too tense from the race. He tugs at his gloves, bunching them up into the palm of his right hand. Once he's out of the RB, he heads over to get weighed post race, his silver red bull emblazoned helmet in his opposing hands to his gloves.

He sees Yuki celebrating the four points he’s earned for the team, his old teammate Lando with race winner Carlos Sainz- the pair’s second double podium together- Oscar bringing spirit and celebration to the awaiting and patriotic crowd, the name ‘Piastri’ chanted throughout the rows and rows of grandstands.

Not a single murmur for Ricciardo.

The jealousy is still there, the weight of pressure and disappointment weighing down on his forever weakening body- still not quite the man he was before McLaren. The younger boy is relishing in the glory of his home race, all the attention he usually despises, while Daniel forces a weak smile, somewhat proud of what Oscar has to come for him, what he’ll achieve that Daniel couldn’t.

Daniel queues up behind Fernando to be weighed, scratching at the scruff of facial hair decorating over his cheek as he waits for his turn. He looks upward, ignoring the number on the scale that almost taunts him. Once that's done, he heads over to the media paddock, trying to get over and done with any painful interviews and questions he’s bound to receive.

He passes by Max, giving the man who had once raced alongside him a comforting pat on the back. The dutch hardly looks up at him, his sharp blue eyes softening as they look into warm honey brown ones, his bitten and bloody lips twisting up into a halfway smile from a grimace. “You were good, Daniel,” Max’s accent is thick and almost gluey, twinged with anger and disappointment. It’s the highest of compliments from the rawest talent on the grid currently, but Daniel can’t help but notice the weight of pity behind his words.

“You too,” Daniel squeezes over his friend's shoulder, watching his resolve fade slightly at the first sense of comfort since his retirement over an hour ago. The two men stay there in solace for a few moments despite the hectic surroundings enclosing them. It’s a part of the sport- learning how to find peace when there isn’t a single calm moment from the moment you enter racing, and it even continues years after you leave.

“Interviews,” Max’s voice interjects Daniel’s thoughts, his attention being brought to reality means he realises that Max is now standing up, hovering over Daniel just ever so slightly with a mere inch between the two of them. Daniel looks to the side where there’s a clump of drivers mingling in the media pen, microphones and cameras shoved into their sweaty faces, capturing their worn out expressions.

“Interviews,” He nods, wiping a hand over the back of his neck, sweat gathering in the gaps between his fingers. He smears it off down against his fireproofs before hooking two fingers around where the tight fabric wraps around his thick neck, pulling it out to regain the ability to properly breath. Max smushes his close cropped hair down under a navy blue cap just as a female interviewer ropes him into a conversation, Daniel left to his own devices.

He plasters his signature grin over his face as an interviewer, hardly looking old enough to be out of school yet, approaches him. His face muscles twitch and struggle to keep that phoney smile as he reflects back on the events of the disappointing home race. By the end, he feels weak and empty, letting the false cheerful expression slip back to a neutral cover up of harsh self critique. In order to mask his dissolving ‘happiness’, he directs the straw of his drink to his mouth, suckling on the scarce remaining drops inside the metal bottle.

When he’s alone once again, Daniel cards a hand through his once full head of thick curls, grimacing at the noticeable thinning of it. A mix of stress and lack of taking care of himself has led to this, all self inflicted. He smooths it back down, trying to get rid of the almost static look it had gained from the slightly fiddling.

As he’s making his way through the paddock, head down and inside of his cheek roughened by the scraping of teeth, he feels a hand against the small of his back. It belongs to the short Japanese driver he drives alongside, often now against recently. “Sorry mate,” The younger pilot gives him a curt smile, “I think you don’t deserve that,” He gives a sympathetic look which Daniel shrugs off, politely and half heartedly.

“Ah, it happens. Not every race can be a podium,” Daniel shakes his head, a million thoughts contrasting those very words swelling up inside his overworked mind. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying, and it doesn’t look like Yuki does either- meeting him with an expression of confusion, eyebrows strung tight together and lips slightly pursed.

“Not the race…” The Japanese man itches at the short black hair on the back of his neck. “About Liam,” He frowns, walking off as he leaves Daniel to unpuzzle his cryptic and vague words. Sure, Liam had filled in for Daniel after a collision with Oscar that had left him injured mid last year, but that was hardly relevant at a moment like this.

He reached the RB garage, heading inside to where his belongings remained from before the race. He checks his phone, messages from his mother, Heidi and Scotty sitting unread on his lock screen. The top notification however is from the F1 app- the names ‘Helmut Marko’, ‘Daniel Ricciardo’, and ‘Liam Lawson’ twist in between all the different ways to say replace.

Oh god.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He opens his phone, scrolling through the brief article. According to it, he has two races to show his potential and prove that he deserves the racing bulls seat until his contract will break and be given to the 21 year old driver from New Zealand. He has Japan and China to show that he deserves this, notoriously two tracks that aren’t easy for him as a driver, nor for the team. He’d won in China in 2018 by the skin on his teeth, barely making it through to the end. To be able to do that again, or even just get a mildly impressive result seemed like a far fetched dream.

He slides down against the wall, his knees tucking up to his chest as he reads through the article again. And again. And again. He reads it over and over until he’s sure he could repeat it from heart, then reads it again. Surely he’s reading it wrong- it had to be fake news. But if that’s true, what on earth did Yuki mean about the ‘Liam thing’? He swipes off the website, searching his name followed by Liam’s into his search bar and clicking on the first link that appears. Different wording, the same exact content. ‘Replaced if Ricciardo’s performance doesn’t improve,’.

His head drops into his hand, strangled and choked back tears spilling into his knuckles as his hand tenses into a fist. He sounds like an idiot, crying on the floor of a garage when he’s sure fans could likely hear him if they were close enough. He’s a disappointment once again, just like he’d been in 2021 at McLaren, just like he’d been at Renault, just like he’d been in his last year at Red Bull. He’s mastered the art of letting everyone around him down, and they’ve perfected not putting faith into him.

As salty tears spill down his tanned cheeks, an arm wraps around his torso, squeezing him into the other person as a head finds its way to settle into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “It’s okay, Daniel,” That all too familiar Dutch accent, the way the voice pronounces his name like ‘Dan-Yell’. “You did it once, you’ll come back,” Max’s breath is hot against where Daniel’s fireproof shirt is scratching into his skin, the all enclosing tight fabric squeezing him into physical numbness.

“I won’t,” Daniel shakes his head, embarrassed by the fact that someone almost 8 years younger than him is being the one to be mature and comforting. Far from the angsty teenage boy who’d stepped into that red bull at 17 almost a decade ago. He was a better driver than Daniel back then, and he still is now, also now a better person. “No one thinks I belong here,” He intentionally deepens his voice, painstakingly aware of how unintentionally vulnerable he’s being

“I believe you do, isn’t that enough?” That gets Daniel to look up from his wrist, meeting those ocean blue eyes he’s encountered too many times when Max has been in his very own position and Daniel’s been in his. He rubs his nose against the sleeve of his race suit that's otherwise been resting on the concrete floor next to him. “I think you’re a superior driver to me,” Max gives him a tight smile, not receiving once in response.

“We both know that’s not true,” Daniel looks back down at the floor in front of himself, his arms crossed over his knees. Max gingerly rests a hand over one of Daniels, one of his fingers prodding into the dorsal side of Daniel’s limp fist.

“You don’t know that,” He murmurs, both men now looking away from each other's eyes and focusing on where their hands are barely intertwined. “You’ve got years of experience over me, more teams and teammates. You’re funnier than me, and you’ve got that 'Daniel Ricciardo' smile.” He grins, finally getting one out of Daniel this time, a genuine one too.

“Pretty easy when you are Daniel Ricciardo,” He knows that’s not what Max means by it. Max rolls his eyes, nudging his elbow into the older man’s chest.

“I’ll always root for you Dan, you know that,” The promise is appreciated, but Daniel struggles to find comfort in it when Max is the only person who does. He no longer even finds the ability to believe in someone who will always lose.

#daniel riccardo #max verstappen #formula1 #formulaone #f1 #yuki tsunoda #rb #redbull #racing bulls #lando norris #aus gp #aus gp 2024 #australian grand prix #oscar piastri #liam lawson

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max-the-many · 5 months

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Start here:

'body a day' #19: dad

Took me quite a minute to figure out his adress. Couldn't ask as I was his son. Luckily his phone got face recognition. So an hour later I was on my way out of the city to meet his, or may I say my dad.

He greeted me at the porch as I arrived at a nice little house in the outskirts.

"Almost thought you might skip it!" he chuckled, giving me a hearty half-hug grabbing my shoulders before heading towards a big heap of uncut wood that wouldn't be all of what had to be prepared for the winter. Much time to get to know him while getting to know my new body at the same time, working, sweating, seeing his older version doing just that.

Turned out, he lived alone, beeing one of those weel known, but independent wolfs after his wife left feom one day to the other.

The way he treated me, his son, though, really spoke for a big heart, making me even more horny than in the gym at the same time.

It was pretty late when we finally headed in, going for a nice clunk of golden juice infront of the fireplace.

"Don't you wanna get your stuff in" he wondered.

"My... ah, ehm..."

"You will stay for the weekend as planned, don't you"

"I... sure!" I collected myself "I... damn, totally forget to pack some"

He just laughed it off "Guess it is ur old stuff then. Gonna head for the shower, though. If you wont first"

I didn't. I was just too curious to look around while he was away. When he was, though, my thoughts had another focus. To know, that he was undressing now, getting out of those dorty, sweaty cloth, stepping under the hot shower just got the best of me.

Eventually I gave into it, went up the stairs and ended up infront of the bathroom. The sound of the water, the smell of soap and man oozing out of the slightly opened door... It didn't take long for me to open the door completely, taking in the sight of him behind frosted showerdoors.

"Jacob?"

"Sorry... dad. Cant find any matching clothes. Where did you put 'em" I improvised.

"Didn't move anything" he replied "let me just finish. I'll show you"

I left. That little sneak really got me going, longing for me. His clothes alone, laying on the counter, screaming to be sniffed, to be worn even.

Worn... my mind went for his closet. So I looked around until I found the bedroom. To open the dresser, seeing all that stuff that he wore at some time really was a sight of it own. I almost grabbed some underwear when I saw a basket of dirty ones, going for it at once, fishing out some tighty whities to dive in when I heared the water stopping.

So I rushed back downstairs, chucking the underwear right into my crotch.

"Free to go!" I heared the old one shortly after, so I did, still having a major twitch against that whity if his. At the showers though it wasnt only that. Seeing myself, looking back as his son gave me the rest, sniffing his well-worled pits, injoying his shape under the shower, thinking of his old man while pumping out a major one.

The evening went pretty relaxed, chatting, sitting infront of a nice fire with some nice rye. I couldn't keep myself from reaching down every once in a while, partly out of pure horny, partly out of curiosity on his reaction.

Other than that I broad up some rather particular topics like jerking of. I planely asked if he caught me, as his son, doing it, going further about his own experiences which he answered surprisingly open. My handling though didn't get less at those instances, but he kept chill about it. He never saw his son or crashed into such occations, but as we talked I figured, he would have been totally fine with it. Even as I constantly reached for my crotch now, which he couldn't really ignore, he didn't loose a single word about it.

And I left it like that, injoying my little game, hightened even since I wore the very underwear I took from his dirty bin underneath.

Eventually we went for bed. There I layed, strippee down to just that tighty white brief of the hunk of a dad, laying mere meters away, twitching right there, thinking of him, of me, that dad-son-couple I encountered st the gym, now beeing all in, dying go make a move.

And after slumbering away a little I got up. I just had to, beeing driven over in thar early night, step by step, taken just wearing tjose briefs, eventually Peeking through the bedroom door.

The dad seemed to be asleep as I saw his broad, naked shoulders under the blanked. Quietly I stepped in, slowly, with a pulsing heart, staring at him with tenting groins. I couldn't do otherwise nut getting even closer. He appeared to be deeply asleep.

"Dad?" I whispered. Nothing. So I stepped closer already recognizing the smell from the bathroom if not imagined. My hand reached out like moved by it's own.

Suddenly a twitch!

But i moved on, clearing my throat to further test his state.

When I touched the blanket I felt my heart with every breath, his presence, his warmth. Then I slowly pulled on it. No reaction. Pulling on, bit by bit, revealing his back, inch by inch until... a clean, white waistband got visible. No way. As I pulled further, it got confirmed. He too was only wearing one of those tight, white briefs spanning my hips, moving under heavy twitches from his sons pulsing tool.

I couldn't stop, reaching ever so slowly towards his hairy chest, barely touching it when he suddenly churned, along with deep, sleepy moans. My hand remained. And he remained sleeping, allowing me to fully cup those meety pect, even massaging them the slightest bits while shivers ran theoughout my whole body.

I was so captired by the whole situation that I even didn't realized my hand touching my crotch, massaging it through the aalready damp fabric. His pleasant sighs didn't affect me less. So I continued fondling him, fondling me, getting down over his stomach to his soft but well packed crotch, feeling it while unpacking mine, breathing heavily until I suddenly began to erupt, barely able to contain heavy moans and even heavier grips to his package.

I almost forgot what really was hüpeningat that moment until I snapped concious of it again, a surprised to see that musky man infront of me still asleep with a satisfied smile, my juice spread all over the floor up to his blanket.

To be continued...

#male bodysuit #male skinsuit #body a day #prompt

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totowlff · 2 years

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chapter one — punishment

➝ request: I would really like to read again a jealous Toto for the reader.

➝ word count: 7,2k

➝ warnings: smut

➝ author’s note: this one-shot took unnecessarily long time in my head as well as my drafts. unfortunately, i don't know how to write a porn without a plot, so let's just say i got too carried away. moreover, with a beautiful inspiration that was those two laps at spa-francorchamps, i couldn't leave this request aside.

You stared at the dark sky over Stavelot in silence as your fingers clenched the blue and red foam of the Sky Sports microphone in your hands.

The memory of one particular Sunday was vivid in your mind.

The wind.

The cold.

The rain.

— Y/N — you heard, behind you. Turning around, you found Jules, your producer, smiling.

— Yes? — you answered.

— They cleared the track for us. Shall we record the first segment?

You looked down the pitlane, where three cars were parked side by side. There was a crowd of onlookers, photographers, and cameras around them. On the left was the Mercedes-AMG ONE, with Lewis Hamilton leaning against the bodywork, talking to Bradley, Mercedes' communications director. In the middle was the GT3 EDITION 55”, which was currently being photographed by Steve, the team photographer. On the right was the 300 SEL 6.8 AMG, the famous Rote Sau. Behind the wheel, talking to George Russell, there he was.

Toto Wolff.

You knew of the team principal's reputation long before you even thought about the possibility of stepping into the paddock. When you were still working in the Sky Sports newsroom in London, you were always amused by the behind-the-scenes motorsport gossip from your colleagues who worked at the races. The words 'beautiful', 'charming' and 'charismatic' never failed to appear in their accounts of interactions with Toto. However, it never crossed your mind that you would someday witness his charm and good looks firsthand.

The first time you stepped into a race paddock was to replace Georgina, one of the producers who worked with Ted Kravitz, producing content for the channel's website, who had contracted Covid-19 at the British Grand Prix. After some exceptional work on the two weekends you covered for your colleague, you were sent more frequently to produce on-location, helping to create stories that had a resounding impact. It didn't take long for you to reach the higher echelons of sports reporting, crafting more interesting stories and producing more daring reports.

However, your big break came when you found out that Lewis Hamilton would not race at the Sakhir Grand Prix after testing positive for Covid-19. With Ted stuck in a meeting, there was no one who could break the news live during the F1 Report. So, using all your courage — and steely nerve — you stood in front of a camera for the first time and gave the world first-hand information about the medical status of the seven-time world champion.

The following year, you were promoted to the role of being an on-camera personality, occasionally doing pit lane walks and media pen interviews. It was during one of these interviews, after qualifying for the Bahrain Grand Prix, that you had your first interview with a certain team principal.

— Hello, Toto, how are you?

— Fine — he replied, smiling. “They weren’t kidding, he does have a nice smile.”, you thought — And you?

— I’m fine as well. I would like to get your impressions of today’s qualifying session, especially considering the pace shown by Max Verstappen today.

— Well, we're very excited to have a real fight on our hands. Six teams in the top ten today and it's clear that simply being good won't be enough this year. But in this final year of the current set of regulations, we have to push the needle even further, not only to beat Red Bull, but also some of the other teams.

— Lewis and Valtteri were both unsatisfied with the reliability of the W12 during pre-season testing. Today, the car proved to be more reliable, but it still doesn't seem to be quite at the pace you’d like it to be.

— It’s true that conditions weren't favorable for us today, but we're definitely closer here than we were during the three days of pre-season testing. However, I can't say exactly what our position is in relation to Red Bull yet.

You smiled, satisfied with his answers.

— Right, Toto. Thank you very much for your insight.

He nodded, preparing to go to the next set of microphones. However, the team principal stopped, standing in front of you for a few seconds in the middle of the media pool before coming back to you.

— You're new around here, aren't you? — he asked, raising an eyebrow.

— I’m not new at Sky, no. I've been here since 2018.

— But, here, in the paddock, how long have you been here?

— Since last year.

— As a reporter?

— No. I was a producer. I started as an on-camera reporter this year.

Toto smiled.

— I understand now.

— Understand what?

— Why I don’t remember you.

— Well, with so many other media people around the paddock, it's pretty easy for us to blend in.

— Blend in? Not for someone as pretty as you are. — he replied with a mischievous smile before moving on to the next journalist who was waiting for him.

“And… He’s definitely charming”, you thought, trying to ignore the way your face was heating up, as well as the laughter from Daniel, your cameraman.

As the months passed, his compliments became more frequent. The looks you shared lingered more. His touches were no longer incidental. The tension between the two of you was palpable every time you crossed paths, whether in the paddock, the media pool, or the press conference room.

It was like a glass of water, filling drop by drop.

— We're going to do the introduction, and after they've done the laps, you're going to talk to the three of them, okay? — Jules said to you as you walked towards the three cars in the pitlane.

— Right — you confirmed. You stopped at a point just to the right of the track, so that Daniel could capture all three cars in the same frame in a diagonal shot.

— Do you think it's better to keep still or move for these introduction shots?

— Moving. It’s more dynamic.

— Okay — you smiled — Let's go.

You grabbed your cell phone and quickly reviewed the talking points for your segment. “Talk about where we are, the reason, the cars, and the drivers”, you thought, reading the email sent by the Mercedes’ press office.

— Ready? — Daniel asked.

You hesitated, taking a moment to fix your hair and smooth your hands over your skirt one last time.

— Yes — you smiled.

With a thumbs up, the cameraman signaled you to begin.

— We are here at the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, celebrating the 55th anniversary of AMG. To celebrate in style, AMG has put together four great cars, as well as four… Or, rather, three, great drivers.

Behind the camera, Jules laughed at your phrasing.

— Now, Toto will be behind the wheel of this legendary 300 SEL 6.8 AMG, better known as the Red Pig. Lewis will be behind the wheel of this spectacular Mercedes-AMG ONE and George will drive the new GT3 EDITION 55, which you can see in the middle there. We also have Formula 1 Safety Car driver Bernd Mayländer who will be driving the AMG safety car, which is a modified AMG GT Black series. Let's take a look — you added, smiling.

A few seconds later, Daniel looked up at you

— Perfect, Y/N.

— Want to try a second time?

— Do we have time, Jules? — the cameraman asked.

You saw your producer wave to Bradley, who was still standing next to Lewis, pointing to his wrist, in a way of asking how much time they had there before the cars took to the track. The communications director held up two fingers, to which Jules simply responded with a raised thumb.

— No, we don't. Daniel, can you take some more filler footage?

— No problem — the cameraman replied, repositioning his device on his shoulder and heading toward the cars parked behind you. Meanwhile, Jules approached you, putting a hand on your shoulder.

— Shall we go to the pit lane?

You nodded, following your producer to the pit area. It was starting to become busy due to preparations for the next day, when the first free practice sessions would take place at the circuit. Leaning back against the wall, you were making a concentrated effort not to look for those familiar brown eyes in the midst of the crowd of people, so you looked up, staring at the dark clouds over the circuit.

— You think it will rain? — you asked quietly, placing the microphone on top of the concrete.

Jules looked up.

— I saw that there was a good chance of rain for this weekend.

You pursed your lips.

— That’s shit — you muttered.

— I hope you brought your raincoat this time — the producer said, nudging you with his elbow.

— I did — you said with a smirk, your memory taking you back to the year before.

It was a rainy Sunday on the same circuit, and it was the day that the metaphorical glass, filling drop by drop as you and Toto flirted and teased each other, spilled over.

You had always prided yourself on being a woman who was always prepared for any eventuality. However, on the wettest weekend of the season, on a trip to the racetrack in the Ardennes forest, an area famously prone to heavy rainstorms, you'd somehow managed the feat of forgetting your raincoat in London.

“Dumb bitch”, you thought, after you left the third official merchandise tent without finding a way to protect yourself from the storm that fell on Stavelot.

Accepting the consequences, you decided to keep working, ignoring the weather-related adversities. However, with you running up and down the paddock so much during the red flag period, with only your normal jacket to protect you from the elements, it wasn’t long before you ended up completely soaked.

At one point in the afternoon, after yet another aborted race start, you were walking back to the media center when you felt your cell phone vibrate in your coat pocket. You sought shelter to check your messages and hadn't even noticed which tent you’d stepped under until you heard a familiar male voice behind you.

— You're soaking wet.

Turning around, you saw Toto's familiar smile. The team principal was seated at one of the hospitality tables. The hospitality area was otherwise completely empty.

— I didn't bring my raincoat.

— Bad weekend to leave it at home, huh?

You nodded, chuckling before looking back at your cell phone, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. You were trying to type a reply to Billy, Sky’s Formula 1 director, but your fingers didn't seem to want to respond.

— Are you cold? — Toto questioned you.

The question made you notice the chill building up in your body that you’d been ignoring until just then.

— No.

— I can see from here that you’re shivering, Y/N.

— It's nothing — you replied, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.

Toto got up from the table and approached you. He took your hands in his, the iciness of your cold, wet hands a stark contrast to the warmth of his.

— You're freezing — the team principal stated, rubbing your hands lightly, trying to impart some of his warmth.

— Seriously, it's okay — you said softly, trying to ignore the sudden wave of heat that coursed through your body, pushing away the chill you were feeling.

— No, no, you're going to get sick like this — Toto said, a worried look in his brown eyes.

— Toto, I'm fine, it's just water. I’m not going to melt.

He shook his head. He didn’t let go of your hand and took you, without a word, into the Mercedes motorhome. He led you up the spiral stairs, through the hallways, and to a frosted glass door. He opened it to reveal a small, simple office with a neat desk made of pale wood and a black office chair.

— I'll go get you a towel, don’t go anywhere — Toto said, disappearing down the hall.

Alone inside the small office, you looked at the shelves on the wall, decorated with potted plants, awards and picture frames with images of Toto at team celebrations, accompanied by his drivers. However, the photo that caught your attention the most was a photo of him with Niki Lauda. You smiled looking at it.

— Here you are — you heard him behind you. Turning around, you found the team principal holding out a rolled-up black towel to you. Taking the terry cloth in your hands, you unfurled it, noticing a logo embroidered in white thread. The logo was a pair of stylized wings that formed a shape that looked like the face of a lion.

— Is this Lewis’ towel? — you asked.

— Yes. I took it from his room.

— You don’t think he’ll get upset?

— I’m sure he won’t — Toto replied, giving you a wink. You felt your face heat up.

— I really hope so — you muttered, as you opened your wet coat.

Smiling, the team principal stepped behind you, helping you peel the soaked jacket from your body. Underneath, you wore a thin blouse that was also wet. The fabric was transparent now, and clinging to your curves. You were embarrassed as you hurried to dry yourself off, running the towel down your arms.

However, the damage was already done.

Looking up, you noticed that Toto was watching you carefully, taking in every detail that the wet shirt showed, his lips pressed together. In his brown eyes, you could see only one thing.

Desire.

— Well — you said, wrapping the towel around your shoulders — I just have to thank you for your kindness.

He blinked, as if he'd come out of a trance.

— It was no problem, Y/N. Really.

— Yes, but I appreciate it anyway. You didn't have to.

— Yes, I did. One of the best journalists in the paddock can't walk around soaking wet and risk catching pneumonia.

You felt like you could melt on the spot.

— I don't know how to repay you — you stammered.

— But I do — Toto smiled, taking a step forward.

In your chest, your heart was pounding.

— Do you want a kiss? — you asked, without hesitation.

Toto's eyes widened.

— Well — he began to stutter, his face red — I had something else in mind… I don't know, maybe a feature story about the team… Or even about me.

— Toto, I've watched enough romantic comedies to know what happens when a man and a woman are alone in a room for the first time after months of flirting and staring at each other.

— What’s that?

— They kiss. And then they have sex.

— And what do you want?

— With you? Both.

You couldn’t say anything else before Toto advanced on you, his lips on yours, releasing the tension of nearly six months of the game the two of you were playing with each other. You knew you wouldn't be leaving that office until he was fully sated, which was almost an hour later, after you'd had three orgasms on top of his desk, your moans echoing off the office walls.

You’d had many more since that day.

The sound of engines brought your focus back to the cars in front of you. With the track cleared, the two Mercedes drivers and team principal were already seated inside the vehicles for their exhibition lap, waiting for authorization to accelerate through the circuit.

Soon enough, green lights lit up on the electronic panel, and the three of them shot down the main straight with the safety car behind, dozens of people in the stands and pit lane watching.

After two laps around the circuit, the four cars entered the pit area in a row, stopping in front of the Mercedes’ garage. It wasn't long before mechanics, photographers, cameramen and onlookers crowded around the vehicles, pointing and chatting about the cars.

— Shall we, Y/N? — Jules turned to you.

Picking up your mic again, you smiled.

— Yes, let’s go.

The two of you crossed the pit lane towards the point where the cars were gathered. The drivers were already outside the vehicles, their helmets abandoned on the seats, talking to each other about the laps, teasing and joking with each other. After hearing Toto's laugh after a comment from George, an involuntary smile appeared on your lips. It was your favorite sound.

— What are you smiling at? — Jules asked you, one eyebrow raised.

You blinked. The producer didn't know about your affair with Toto. Nobody did. It was a deal made by both of you, not just to protect each other’s privacy, but also to avoid any issues of you violating journalistic ethics. “You can’t sacrifice your career because of me”, you heard Toto say in your head.

— I was thinking of a question to ask Toto.

Jules looked around for the team principal.

— Then you'd better take advantage of the fact that he's free now and go ask him — he said, tilting his head in the Austrian's direction.

You saw Toto again and noticed that he was leaning against the red bodywork of the 300 SEL 6.8 AMG, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed to the ground. Before you even realized it, your feet were pulling you towards him, like a metal piece drawn to a magnet. Stopping beside him, you hesitated for a few seconds.

— Did you have fun? — you said.

— Who's asking? — he smiled, looking at the microphone in your hand.

— Toto…

— I need to know, so I know how to answer. Is it the journalist asking me, or the woman?

You leaned back against the red metal beside him.

— Both — you replied, the shadow of a smile on your lips.

— Well, to the journalist, I will say that I was looking forward to driving this car and that it was a lot of fun.

— And to the woman?

Toto brought his face close to your ear.

— I had more fun last night with you.

You looked at him, violent heat rising in your face. Noticing your flushed cheeks, Toto just smirked.

— I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that — you mumbled.

— Your face says otherwise, but that's okay.

You were silent, wondering what to say. “Didn't you have a question for him?”, you asked yourself, fiddling with the microphone awkwardly. When you were around him, it was as if your mind just went completely blank, leaving only room for the desire you felt for him.

— Do you want to record a segment with me? — Toto said, breaking the silence. Lifting your face to him, you smiled.

— Yes. We're doing a feature about AMG's anniversary and today's activities.

— What do you want me to talk about?

— I'll ask about the company and how it feels to be on the track. Nothing too difficult for you.

— Fine by me — he smiled, rising from the hood of the car. Signaling Daniel to come closer, you momentarily closed your eyes, mentally reviewing your questions for Toto. When you opened them again, you noticed he was watching you carefully, the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile.

— Can we start? — you asked him.

— Anytime, Y/N — Toto replied. Smiling, you lifted the microphone and nodded for Daniel to start recording.

— Well, Toto, what does it mean to celebrate AMG's 55th anniversary?

— AMG is synonymous with racing and high performance. For 55 years they've been at the forefront of pushing what's possible on four wheels, both on the track and on the road. And celebrating this history here, driving a car as special as the Red Pig, an icon in motorsport history, is very special.

— And what was it like to take those two laps here in Spa?

— Race drivers simply have the best job in the world. I don't spend a lot of days on the track, but even with this car, doing two laps at Spa reminds me how amazing that is — he concluded, smiling.

— Okay, thank you, Toto — you said, signaling Daniel to stop recording. When the cameraman lowered the camera, the team principal smiled back at you, leaning in closely.

— At your service, moja maleńka — he whispered, making your face heat up again at his nickname for you.The first time Toto had referred to you with those two words, you had no idea that they were even words at first.

To you, it sounded like a sneeze.

— Bless you — you said, rolling over in bed to face him.

— What?

— Didn't you sneeze?

Toto laughed.

— No, I didn't sneeze.

You blinked, confused.

— So what was that?

— What was what?

— You whispered something.

He smiled.

— Yes — Toto said, running a hand through your hair, brushing strands out of your face — I said… Moja maleńka.

— Is that German? — you asked, raising an eyebrow.

— No. Polish.

— Do you speak Polish?

— Yes. My mother is Polish.

You were silent for a few seconds.

— Aren't you going to ask what it means?

— Should I?

— I think you would find it interesting.

— And what do words that sound like a sneeze mean?

— They mean… My little one.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

You've never been called that, not even by your parents.

“He's definitely charismatic”, you thought, a smile on your lips.

— Y/N, George is free now. Should we interview him? — you heard Daniel say in your ear. Taking one last look at Toto, you smiled at your cameraman, following him towards the point where the Brit was talking to your producer.

— Good afternoon, George, how are you?

— Good, and you?

— I’m fine as well — you replied — Shall we talk about your laps with the GT3 EDITION 55?

The Brit's blue eyes lit up.

— Let's do it! — he said, smiling.

Interviewing George was never difficult. The driver, in addition to being polite and intelligent, knew how to answer with confidence, without forgetting to put a pinch of British humor in his statements. Whenever you needed soundbytes, you knew you could count on him.

However, even his charm and good press presence didn't make George your favorite driver to interview

— Lewis is free now — Jules said, jerking his thumb at the man behind him.

Talking to Lewis Hamilton was a special thrill for you. If your passion for motorsport was born from watching Damon Hill lead Williams to glory, it was with the Stevenage driver that it came to full bloom. Watching him race as just a spectator was incredible, but watching him up close as a professional was a privilege that would never feel real to you.

— Good afternoon, Lewis — you approached him, greeting him with a hug — How are you?

— Much better now — he smiled — It's wonderful to drive a good car once in a while.

You chuckle, feeling awkward. That season was cruel. Not just to Mercedes, but to the British driver especially. After having his eighth title snatched from his hands at the last second, he went on to deal with a brand new and terribly temperamental car, the result of a new build regulations that Mercedes missed the mark on.

But with the new spending cap rules, there was nothing they could do to salvage the season other than discuss how incomprehensible and temperamental the W13 was. It was something Toto made a point of doing every race weekend that you spent with him, as he twirled a lock of your hair around his index finger or traced the features of your face with his finger.

— I can imagine how fun it was. Can we talk about it?

— Of course — Lewis replied, putting his hands on his hips.

Signaling Daniel to stand, you quickly fixed your hair, as well as running your hand quickly over your dress, trying to smooth any creases.

— You look great, Y/N — the Brit commented, a shy smile on his lips.

Looking up at him, you smiled.

— Thank you, Lewis.

Turning to face your cameraman, you waited for his signal to start, which came seconds later, with a nod.

— So, Lewis, tell us, what was it like driving the Mercedes-AMG ONE here in Spa?

— Celebrating the 55th anniversary of AMG here in Spa is something incredible, as we are talking about an iconic brand in the world of motorsport. But to do that while driving a car like this is very special to me. We work hard all year and we don't always have time to enjoy moments like this, so it's a really fantastic thing.

— We can see how excited you and George were, even competing at one point.

— Yeah, things got hot on the track — Lewis laughed.

— Toto was pushing you too, I don't know if you could see it, but we saw it here.

— Yes, I saw. He's a real racer, like me and George, and you can see his passion for it, even though he's cut some of the curves, from what I noticed in the rearview mirror.

You couldn't help but laugh. You knew that Toto had experience in rallying, endurance racing, and racing GT cars. However, you also knew that he wasn’t able to achieve success, which explained why he turned to business.

— I haven't seen the footage yet to say — you said, trying to catch your breath.

— I bet you'll enjoy the damage he did to the grass at Turn 11.

— I'm looking forward to seeing the track remodeling work — you smiled, waving your hand for Daniel to stop recording. After receiving confirmation that the cameraman had finished the job, you continued talking to Lewis for a few more minutes, listening to his impressions of the car he had just driven, as well as more harsh words about the W13. According to him, the team couldn’t nail down the tuning or set-up for a lot of tracks.

Distracted by Lewis' monologue about the car, you didn’t as someone approached behind you both. He touched your shoulder and you can't help but be a little startled by the sudden intrusion. Turning around, you found Toto with a serious expression.

— Y/N, can I talk to you?

You blinked.

— Yes, about what?

— Privately — Toto said in a low voice. His face was completely unreadable.

Those two words made a chill build up in your belly. Looking around, you noticed Jules talking to Daniel and Steve. “They won't even notice I'm gone”, you thought, before flashing a smile to the team principal.

— Okay, let's go — you replied — See you, Lewis.

The driver nodded at you with a smile. Looking back at Toto, you saw him gesturing for you to go ahead of him into the Mercedes pit area, a quick shortcut to access their hospitality, which was just behind the entrance to the team's garage. Heading towards the access to the paddock, you waved at an engineer before turning down the hall, past the wall where the headphones were kept. One of the hooks had a red hat hanging on it. How many stories have you heard about the owner of that red hat?

Walking silently down the hall, you had just passed the door of the Petronas fluid analysis lab when you felt a hand close around your arm, pulling you back. Guiding you with little delicacy, Toto moved you into the small lab that was inside Mercedes garage, releasing you only to slide the opaque glass door closed, locking the two of you inside.

— What are you doing? — you asked in a whisper.

Toto remained silent, staring at you with those chocolate-colored eyes, until he began to approach you, slowly. Almost instinctively, you started taking steps back, trying to keep the distance between the two of you. You were succeeding until you felt your back hit the wall.

“Fuck,” you thought, watching the team principal get closer and closer to you, the shadow of a smile on his lips as he stopped in front of you, his face inches from yours.

— Y/N — he whispered, placing his hands on your waist.

— Yes? — you replied softly, lifting your face to look him in the eyes.

Silence.

“What did I do?” you asked yourself.

Suddenly, in one swift movement, you found yourself with your back to Toto, your cheek against the wall. You felt his hot breath against your ear.

— What was going through your head out there?

You swallowed hard.

— What are you talking about?

His hands went down your side, caressing you.

— Your conversation with Lewis. What were you thinking?

— I… I was just… Doing… My job — you tried to sound confident, without any success.

— Your job is to interview drivers. Not to flirt with them — he said in a low voice.

— I… Wasn’t flirting… With anyone — you gasped, your apprehension turning into curiosity. You had never seen this rough, possessive side of him before, and you couldn’t deny that you were a little turned on.

— That's not what it looked like to me — Toto growled. His fingers were already on your hips, skimming the fabric of your dress in search of your panties. “If only I had put any on”, you thought, pursing your lips. Seconds later, you felt him press his body even more firmly against yours.

— Are you not wearing any panties, maleńka? — he asked in a low voice, his lips against your ear. His breath against your skin sent a shiver through your body, your pussy getting wet. Swallowing hard, you made an affirmative sound, the words stuck in your throat.

However, it wasn't enough for Toto.

With a not-so-gentle tug, he pulled your dress up, exposing your bare ass. Toto's hand roamed over your delicate skin, as if he was confirming what he'd already felt through the fabric. Suddenly, the sound of a slap filled the small lab space, accompanied by the gasp of surprise that escaped your lips. The sensation was not unfamiliar to you, as one of the first things Toto had done when he laid you on his desk that rainy Sunday was asking to slap your ass as punishment for months of teasing.

And you found, to your surprise, that you liked it.

— Can you answer me? — Toto whispered, his fingers ghosting over the spot where his hand had landed violently against your bottom.

— Yes — you stuttered, your voice shaky — I'm not wearing any panties.

— Why, maleńka?

You blinked. The reason you'd gone without underwear had been solely because of the unsightly panty lines that were visible in the dress you were wearing, which fit snugly against your body. However, seeing Toto's reaction, you couldn't help but wonder what he would have done if you’d gone without for any other reason. And with the opportunity to find out on the tip of your tongue, you decided not to waste it.

— Because I didn’t want to wear any — you replied, your voice firm and challenging.

Another slap, this time on the opposite side of the first.

This time, the sound that left your lips was nothing like a gasp. It was a moan of pleasure.

— Do you like it? — Toto's hand went back to massaging your butt, which was probably starting to turn red from the impact of his fingers against your buttock.

You muttered something that sounded like yes, nodding. It wasn't enough for Toto. In a split second, you felt his free hand go to your jaw, tilting your face back. Your gaze met his, his brown eyes tinged with a darkness you knew well.

— Words. I want to hear you.

The tone of his voice sent a wave of arousal through your body, your core pulsing. The hand that was on your face slid down, wrapping around your neck in a gentle grip, but enough so that the sensation went straight to your pussy, the wetness building more and more.

— Yes, I like it — your voice was barely audible.

— You're a bad girl, Y/N.

— Then… You should punish me — you replied, a teasing tone in your voice.

One more slap. One more groan.

You had never felt as aroused as you did at that moment.

— You talk too much for such a bad girl — he muttered, his hand caressing your aching skin.

— And you act too little for someone who wants to discipline me.

Another slap. Another moan.

However, this time, Toto didn't massage your ass as affectionately as you'd expected him to. You felt the team principal release your neck and bring both hands to your waist, turning your body so that you were facing him. There was nothing gentle about his movements now.

— So, you want to be punished? — Toto asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

— Yes, I do — you replied, whispering.

Smiling, he took your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue unceremoniously invading your mouth. As one hand caressed the back of your head, guiding it subtly, the other moved down your spine, pulling your body against his, the fabric of his black race suit rubbing against your exposed skin.

You were so immersed in that kiss that you hardly noticed when Toto pushed you away from the wall, leading you through the cramped room to one of the lab benches, where Petronas engineers performed tests during the sessions. Pulling his face away from yours momentarily, the team principal's hands wrapped around your waist, boosting you up and placing you on the white countertop, your legs spread wide enough for him to position himself between them. With the bottom of your dress still rucked up around your hips, you were completely exposed to him. Something told you that was exactly how he wanted you.

Toto didn't need to say a word to tell you what the next step was. Bringing your fingers to the collar of the black and red jumpsuit, you opened it, revealing the zipper, pulling it down desperately, clumsily. Biting your bottom lip, with one quick movement, you peeled the overalls from his shoulders, allowing Toto to pull his arms through the sleeves, leaving only the white fireproof undershirt he was wearing. With his hands free, he lowered the overalls even lower, exposing his fireproof underwear, the outline of his erection evident beneath the thin fabric.

Looking up at you, Toto gave you a devilish grin before pulling the last layer down, exposing his cock. The sight sent a wave of arousal through your skin that felt like an electric shock. He knew the power he had over you and your body, and he was eager to use it.

— Do you like what you see? — the team principal whispered, while his fingers wrapped around his own dick, pumping slowly.

— Yes — you said, your voice shaky.

— Do you want this? — he asked you. The light glistened on the pre-cum spread along his length — Do you want my cock, maleńka?

— Yes — you replied, pleadingly. You could feel anticipation building up in your core to the point where it was almost painful. You needed it the same way you needed air to breathe. However, Toto wasn’t making any effort to approach you, to enter you, to make you moan his name with your nails digging into his shoulders.

Instead, he remained standing in front of you, one hand stroking his cock and the other squeezing one of your thighs, keeping your legs spread and still, your pussy completely exposed to him, wetness almost oozing out of you.

In the fog of your desire, you finally realized his intentions.

Denial. This was your punishment.

— Toto…

— What do you want, maleńka? — he asked softly, his thumb circling the head of his cock — Tell me what you want.

— You…

Toto looked at you with a devilish expression.

— But, you have me. I’m right here.

— I want you inside me, fucking me like the bad girl I am.

— After what you did today, do you think you deserve my dick?

— I was working, Toto — you whimpered, almost like a child who didn’t get any dessert — I just want you. I only think about you. There is only you.

— Do you only want me? — he moved toward you now.

— Yes, yes, yes — you gasped, your muscles tensing in anticipation.

With a smile on his lips, Toto moved even closer, positioning his cock at your entrance. His lips found your jaw, placing gentle kisses going up towards your ear. You felt a shiver of anticipation run through your body. “Finally, finally, finally,” you mentally repeated, your fingers finding the back of his neck, playing with his dark hair.

But instead of the pleasure you were desperate for, you felt his tip brush against your clit, your sensitivity making you nearly sob at his subtle movements. The sound made Toto smile against your skin.

— You look so pretty like this — he murmured, nibbling at a spot below your earlobe — Completely desperate for me.

His cock continued to brush through your folds, pressing lightly against your hole. You could feel the tears of agony building up in your eyes.

— Please, please, please — you moaned, squirming at the subtle touch.

— I'll give you what you want — Toto whispered — But you have to ask for it.

— Please, I want to feel you inside me — you gasped — I need to feel you. Please please. Let me feel you.

— Fine — he said.

Slowly, you felt Toto sliding inside you with no resistance. You were beyond soaked and ready for him. However, instead of penetrating you completely, he sank just the head of his cock in and retreated almost immediately. You searched his face and found a mischievous smile.

— Toto — you stammered.

He laughed.

— You asked me to feel my cock inside you. You felt it.

Something between an incredulous laugh and an agonized groan left your lips.

“Son of a bitch”, you thought.

— You're ridiculous, Wolff — you managed to say.

— And you're not being clear about what you want.

You rolled your eyes. However, instead of slapping you again for your insolence, Toto just leaned his forehead against yours, his brown eyes glued to yours.

— Tell me what you want — Toto whispered, brushing his nose against yours — And you'll have it.

You blinked, your breath caught in your throat.

— Fuck me. Just fuck me. Please.

He smiled. Not in a mischievous or provocative way, but sincerely.

Toto had finally heard what he wanted to hear.

Positioning yourself again at your entrance, you turned your head to the side, muscles tensing. However, holding your chin, he made you look at him again.

— I'm going to fuck you like you want. But… You will have to be quiet.

A nod of your head was the signal for Toto to penetrate you immediately. Stifling a cry at the sudden sensation of him inside of you, you felt pain and pleasure mingling in your belly.

It was everything you wanted.

It didn't take long for Toto to set a delicious rhythm, causing you to dig your nails into the muscles of his shoulders beneath the fireproof shirt. You strained to keep your mouth shut, trying not to make a sound, just as he had asked. However, when he found the right spot inside you, you couldn't resist emitting low grunts and moans.

— Yes, yes, yes — you muttered, as Toto attacked your neck, biting your skin with little delicacy. There would probably be marks. There would certainly be marks. But, you couldn't care less right now. This moment was worth every extra minute you'd have to spend hiding the evidence of your affair with him.

Focused on the sensation building in your abdomen, you received a new rush of pleasure as Toto's hand left your thigh and snaked between your legs. Finding your clit, his fingers began to draw quick, indelicate circles, making you expend a Herculean effort not to scream at the top of your lungs.

— You… Aren't… That bad… Maleńka — Toto gasped, quickening the movement of his hips against yours. With your heart racing, you didn't know what to say because of the fog of pleasure that clouded your mind, making you completely lose the power of language. You pulled him by the back of his neck towards your lips, in a deep kiss, backed by the wet sound of his cock against your pussy.

Your legs contracted, as did your abdomen.

You were close.

Very close.

Too close.

Until, suddenly, Toto stopped, causing a frustrated groan to escape your lips. Pulling his face slightly away from yours, he studied your face.

— Y/N, look at me — the team principal asked, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered, the effort to open your eyes was almost unreal.

— Who makes you feel good?

— You — you gasped, the painful sensation of your aborted orgasm coursing through your body — Only you.

Toto smiled, bringing his hand to your neck. His fingers pressed lightly against your skin, just enough pressure to let you know he was there. “As if I needed a reminder,” you thought, your fingers moving up to his wrist, begging him not to let you go.

— Good girl.

Using your neck for support, he moved roughly inside you again, his cock touching the spot you needed most with each thrust. Parting your lips in a silent scream, you felt the pressure in your abdomen start to build again, making your legs shake and your spine arch.

— Yes, yes, yes, yes — you repeated, in a thin voice, almost desperately.

Somewhere, you heard Toto grunt, pulling one of your legs to his hip. The other followed, imprisoning him against you. The hand that was on your neck went down to your core, massaging your clit again.

— I… Ah… Yes… I will — you stuttered, your nails sinking deeper and deeper into Toto's shoulders.

— This, this, this — he muttered. And it was the last thing you heard before the pressure in your abdomen exploded.

Biting your bottom lip hard to keep from screaming, you felt a tsunami of pleasure relentlessly sweep through your body. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, your chest rising and falling with your labored breathing. Not seeing, hearing or feeling anything around you, you were completely numb.

So numb that you didn't notice Toto continuing to move inside you, the contractions of your pussy pulling him along into his own climax. He released himself inside you, the sensation of his hot cum going unnoticed as you had still not yet returned to Earth. Then, he rested his palms on the countertop on either side of your thighs, resting his head on your shoulder, breathing heavily, completely exhausted.

For a few minutes, what you could hear inside the small laboratory was the sounds of both of you trying to catch your breath. It was definitely the craziest thing you had ever done in your life, but never had something so wrong felt so right.

— That was amazing — you mumbled, eyes half closed.

— Thanks, we're always working to provide the best experience — you heard Toto say, his voice muffled by your shoulder, making you giggle weakly.

Lifting his face to you, he brushed his nose lightly against yours. It was gentle and affectionate.

— Can I clean you up?

— Yes — you smiled.

Toto pulled out of you and the small sink that was in the corner of the lab room. Taking a handful of paper towels from the dispenser mounted on the wall, he walked over to you and began to gently wipe you down. Then he helped you down from the counter and helped you pull your dress down again, trying to smooth out the various wrinkles. Then it was his turn to clean up and get dressed again, pulling the pants and overalls back up again.

— Come here — you said, signaling him to turn around. Holding the rough fabric in your hands, you helped him put his arms through the sleeves of the racing suit, fitting it around his shoulders. Turning back to face you, Toto smiled.

— Can you help me with the zipper?

— Sure — you replied, finding the tab and zipping the jumpsuit again, finishing with the collar embroidered with the AMG logo.

— Dziękuję, moja maleńka.

You smiled, guessing what he had said to you.

— I don't know how to say 'you’re welcome' in Polish.

— Well, you could say… Nie mogę się doczekać, aż znowu mnie przelecisz.

You blinked, confused

— Something tells me that wasn’t just ‘you’re welcome’.

Toto pursed his lips, trying to contain a smile.

— It may be. Polish is complicated.

— Torger — you scolded him.

— Okay, Y/N, nie ma za co is fine.

You tried to reproduce the words, the phonemes unfamiliar on your tongue. Your pronunciation was heavily accented and unclear, and it made Toto laugh.

— Close enough — Toto said, kissing you on the forehead.

Once you both were cleaned up and put back together, you started thinking about how to leave the lab room and the Mercedes garage unnoticed. After a few minutes of discussing a plan, you concluded that the best thing would be for you to return to the pit lane, while Toto would go to the motorhome. Taking a deep breath and running your fingers through his hair one last time, you were about to open the door when you felt his fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you into a kiss.

— See you tonight?

— Yes — you smiled, giving him one last peck on the lips before opening the door and disappearing down the hall.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 one shot #toto wolff smut #wlffog #conwlff

628 notes · View notes

lestappenforever · 10 months

Note

Omg after watching the Charles post race interviews from the Hungarian GP I feel like I need 8 and 37 for established lestappen 😭

Bestie, the way my heart has fucking shattered over and over again for Charles this weekend. The sadness in his eyes after the race is just devastating. 😭

8. and 37. for established Lestappen coming right up! ❤️

You're also getting a bonus 19. "Can I play with your hair?" and 20. "C'mere sweetheart."

---

8. "Relax. I've got you.", 37. "Oh, baby... c'mere...", 19. "Can I play with your hair?", and 20. "C'mere, sweetheart."

The Hungarian Grand Prix adds another crushing blow to Charles' never-ending list of crushing blows in 2023.

Qualifying P5 wasn't ideal, but it could have been worse. A lot worse. Charles went into the Sunday hopeful — confident — he could overtake Zhou early, and then set his sights on Lando and Oscar. And he did.

But everything went to shit after that.

The absolute low point of the day — and there were quite a few to choose from, including the ridiculously slow pit stop — was Xavi telling him they'd discuss the race strategy at the end of the race.

The race strategy for this race. When they were smack dab in the fucking middle of it, and Charles had ideas that could take him to a higher position if the team would just fucking listen to him.

He wants to laugh when Xavi tells him good job at the end of the race.

A P7 finish after a P5 start is not a good result. But he supposes that his engineer thinks so just sums up their season altogether.

When he's roped in for his post-race interviews, Charles feels frustrated and sad and tired. He's just so fucking tired of everything.

He's tired of every race feeling like a fucking struggle with a car that can't seem to perform the way Charles needs it to. He's tired of having a team around him that won't listen to a word he says, and seem to have made it their life's mission to screw him over with their strategy one way or another, every single race. He's tired of feeling like with every passing week, another team outperforms them and passes them in the overall standings.

But most of all, he's tired of feeling like he's not enough. That nothing he does will ever be enough. Even though he knows, deep down, that he's not at fault for the way this terrible season is turning out.

Because Charles will never not blame himself. It's in his blood, his genes, his very soul.

Once he finishes his media duties, Charles retreats to his driver's room and is fully intent on staying there until the paddock is as close to empty as possible.

He doesn't even have the energy to change out of his racesuit, only unzipping it and pushing the top half down to expose his fireproofs. Then, he just sits on the floor with his head in his hands.

He doesn't cry, though. There have been so many tears already this season that Charles doesn't think he has any left at this point.

Charles convinces himself that's a good thing.

As he sits on the floor of his driver's room, staring ahead without seeing anything, Charles feels nothing.

---

"You need to see this," Lando tells Max as they wait to be called in for their post-race press conference, handing his phone over.

Max takes it with a frown, looking down at the screen as Lando taps the screen to start the video.

Charles' face stares back at him, and the Monégasque looks so fucking tired, so fucking sad, that it makes Max feel sick. His eyes are shining with tears Max knows won't spill. He watches the way Charles wipes at his face, touches his mouth, licks his lips, rubs at the back of his neck, looks away from the interviewer and the camera as he talks about the race.

It's every tell-tale sign of the chaos going on in Charles' mind — in his heart.

He's doubting himself, blaming himself, trying his damnedest to find a way to shift the fault of the race to himself as opposed to where the blame truly lies: With the team.

It's infuriating, and Max kind of wishes Lando hadn't shown him this now, before the press conference. Because now Max needs to pretend like he isn't thinking about Charles as he sits with Lando and Checo on that couch, answering questions about his own race.

Max sighs as the interview finishes, and he hands Lando his phone back just as a woman comes out to collect them.

Behind him, Checo pats his shoulder in sympathy.

"Do you think he's okay?" the Mexican asks quietly, low enough for only Max to hear him.

And Max sighs again, shaking his head. "Would you be?"

Checo doesn't answer, but that's answer enough.

---

When Max lets himself into Charles' driver's room after the press conference, the Monégasque is still sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead.

Max shuts the door behind him and goes to sit next to him on the floor. He waits.

When a full minute passes and Charles doesn't speak, Max reaches out to take one of Charles' hands from where it's danglig limply between his bent knees, lacing their fingers together.

The contact makes something dislodge in Charles, and the numbness that's been holding him together disappears, replaced by every heartbreaking emotion he's been trying so hard to ignore. His shoulders begin to shake as the tears Charles was sure he was all out of well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks.

Max sees it right away, because of course he does.

"Oh baby... C'mere," he says without missing a beat, letting go of Charles' hand in favor of curling his arm around Charles' shoulders and pulling him against his chest.

"C'mere, sweetheart."

Charles goes willingly, turning slightly on the floor so he can press his face into Max's chest, tears wetting the fabric of Max's fireproofs. He curls a hand in the fabric by his face, holding on for dear life, as Max's other arm wraps around him, too, holding him close.

And he cries. Flat-out sobs against Max, his heart breaking over and over again in his chest as the sheer hopelessness of the situation washes over him for what feels like the millionth time this season.

Max kisses his head, again and again, as Charles trembles violently against him.

"Relax," Max whispers into his hair, tightening his hold around the Ferrari driver. "I've got you."

It's said like a promise, and Charles knows he means it like one.

It takes Charles a long time to get his bearings enough to make his voice work, but eventually, he manages a whisper.

"Can I play with your hair?"

Max is already pushing the orange cap off his head before Charles can finish the sentence.

"Of course you can," he murmurs, as he wraps his arm back around Charles.

Charles lets go of Max's fireproof shirt to reach up, tangling his fingers in the blond strands and toying with them. It’s an act he always finds to be incredibly soothing, and it helps calm his racing mind.

The fact that Max fucking loves it too is a nice bonus, as the Red Bull driver lets out a pleased hum.

It won't make it all better. Won't make the pain stop or make the devastation of it all go away.

But amidst what is shaping out to be a truly horrible year for Charles, Max is the only constant he knows he will never have to worry about. Because Max loves Charles more than he loves anything else, and Charles loves Max just the same.

It won't fix anything. But it will make it bearable.

And at the end of the day, that's all that matters.

#Lestappen drabble #Lestappen prompt #Prompts #Asks prompts #Asks #Anon asks

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neonponders · 1 year

Text

Part 28 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🍦

Part 27

( pt. 7′s art 🎩 ) ( pt. 9′s art 👀 ) ( pt. 14′s art 💨 ) ( pt. 19′s art 🦇 ) ( pt. 20′s art 🍳) ( pt. 27’s art 🦦 )

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy opened the door with furrowed brows, which relaxed when he saw who stood behind Max. “Did you forget your key?”

“Robin picked me up on the fly, remember?” she answered, striding past him towards her room.

This left Billy to watch uselessly as Steve followed in with a weekender bag hanging from one shoulder, with the shoebox bedroom tucked between the straps. “Are you staying for the week?”

Billy only got a glimpse of big brown eyes peeking through the paladian windows of the box before Steve announced, “You might’ve noticed that the guys need a good night’s sleep, and for that, they need to feel at home.”

Billy summarized, “And a lot of stuff makes a home.”

And then Steve lifted small Billy out of his jacket pocket, further confusing the larger Billy. He glanced between the little guy dressed in fuzzy socks, shorts, and a t-shirt that was too big for him, and the eyes still watching him from the box that Steve placed on the kitchen table.

“Did they have an argument or something?”

“No, you did,” Steve announced, gently setting Billy on the table top and taking a seat. “But lucky for you, little Stevie and I have an incentive for you two to apologize to each other.”

Billy’s brows flew up and he watched his littler self fidget with the long hem of his shirt before he stubbornly crossed his arms. “Him firwst.”

Billy cocked a hip to the side, shifting his weight to one leg. “I don’t need to apologize because he can’t take a joke. And isn’t it Stevie who needs the apology?”

Steve huffed a breath out of his nose. “Unfortunately, we are the forgiving types.”

Billy flashed a smile. “Unfortunately?”

“Just say you’re sorry. Sit down, for one. Don’t tower over him.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Biwwy!”

All heads turned toward the box, where little Steve glared around one of the cutout doors. “Be nice! Or elwse!”

Billy laughed, “Or else...” before his eyes narrowed in on the white sailor’s cap on little Steve’s head. His eyes darted to big Steve, who pursed his lips to the side in defiance as he pulled his jacket aside to reveal familiar blue fabric with white stripes, and a flash of red.

Billy’s jaw went slack without him realizing, but he quickly picked it up and slowly sank down into a chair. For a long minute, no one said anything. Little Billy accepted the offer of Steve’s hand and sat on his palm, waiting.

Large Billy started, “Do you want to tell me something for biting my hand.”

The little guy’s chest heaved in a deep breath. “I wasn’ sowwy when I bit you. But thank you for not wetting me fall out of your pocket.”

Big Billy’s lips pursed in a discontent line, but the little Billy finished, “I twust you to catch me. That’s why I’m mad at you for biting Stevie.”

“I didn’t bite him.”

“You twied.”

“It wasn’t real - ”

Big Steve cleared his throat, distinctly playing with the red tail of an ascot. Billy’s nostrils flared and he rerouted, “I’m sorry for breaking your trust. But don’t go diving out of our clothes - and don’t bite me anymore.”

Little Billy’s bottom lip pushed up in a deep frown, eliciting Billy to corner, “Can you promise me that?”

“Not weally.”

Steve intervened, “But you can promise to try. Right?”

Little Billy’s eyes softened up at him and he wilted, “I can twy. If he twies.”

Steve looked up at him and Billy sighed with a vague wag of his finger. “Cross my heart.”

Steve peeked back down at little Billy, who absorbed this and burst, “I don’t twust him.”

“He’s gotta earn your trust back. That’s part of the process. You’re both agreeing to try. Is that okay?”

Little Billy grasped his shirt again. “I don’ know...”

Small Steve burst from their bedroom, in full Scoops Ahoy regalia apart from his own pajama socks. He ran towards Billy and hugged him close. “We’rwe not losing him, okay? Stevie needs his Biwwy. Pwease twy. They’re siwwy and look down to us for helwp.”

Big Billy looked up at Steve, who hid behind his hands, rubbing deep circles into his sockets. Billy didn’t like how his own eyes hung heavily in his skull. He sniffed and swallowed thickly as his smaller self agreed, “Okay. I’ll twy.”

Little Steve kissed his cheek, making Billy blush like a whole cherry while Steve otherwise turned to his bigger self. “Weady, Stevie?”

Steve perked up and pulled out his own sailor’s hat from his pocket. One hand twirled it over his finger tips, therein reestablishing its shape, while the other hand zipped down his jacket, revealing his old job’s sailor costume.

The cap embroidered with blue, AHOY, landed on his hair as he said in somehow equally monotone and enthusiastic, “Get ready to set sail on an ocean of flavor!”

Little Steve giggled with his hand on his hair in a salute. Small Billy took a deep breath, trying to cool his face down.

Big Billy, however, said bluntly, “Where are the shorts?”

Steve deflated and went to the front door to properly take his shoes off as well as the track pants over his blue shorts. “I’m not Superman. This is harder than it looks.”

But Billy leaned back in his chair and held up a hand when Steve tried to come back. “Give us a twirl.”

Mirthless brown eyes rolled as he held his arms out and rotated to give Billy the full picture. When he faced him again, Steve accused, “It’s your own fault for never coming into the shop to see it in all its glory.”

Billy ignored that to observe aloud, “You even matched the shoes.”

“Company policy,” Steve remarked, glancing back at the blue and white shoes by the front door.

Billy rolled his lips. “You really wore this for a whole summer.”

“What’s your point?”

“Shame on me for taking so long, that’s all.”

Meanwhile, on the table, little Billy finally managed, “You wook weally cute, Stevie.”

Little Steve blushed over a grin. “Thank you, Biwwy.”

#if you're picture the Steves in Sailor Moon poses #you're absolutely correct #harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #like magnets

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fourmula1 · 2 years

Text

“I am twenty now, Daniel.”

Max says as if he didn’t just win the Malaysia Grand Prix.

-or-

How it all starts.

established relationship maxiel snapshots. 1300 words. from my ao3.

“I am twenty now, Daniel.”

Max says as if he didn’t just win the Malaysia Grande Prix. They’re both still sticky with champagne and sweat, race suits pulled down around their waists as they head for their drivers’ rooms to get cleaned up and ready for press.

As if that’s what’s important, what they should be talking about and celebrating right now. Not the double-podium for Red Bull, with Daniel taking third.

“My birthday, it was yesterday,” Max continues as he walks alongside Daniel.

Daniel, for one, is perplexed by Max’s non-sequiturs, but claps Max on the shoulder nonetheless and nods his head. He knew this. The team had had a little birthday celebration for Max in the garages yesterday for quali.

“Double celebration tonight then, yeah?” Daniel laughs as they reach their rooms, two doors on opposite sides of the narrow little hallway. He pauses at his, waits for Max to finish whatever thought he’s gearing up for. Max doesn’t say a lot, usually, but when he does it’s always exactly what he means. His bluntness, his forward nature makes Daniel laugh, and he finds himself eager to hear what’s coming.

“So I am not a child anymore. A kid,” Max says, expression set into a serious gaze focused intensely on Daniel. Daniel shifts his feet, confused, eyebrows knitting together as he looks back at Max. The high of their double podium is slowly withering as Daniel feels Max’s serious energy wash over him. He’s not sure what’s happening but it feels intense being stared down by Max’s piercing, fierce blue eyes like this. He’s lost.

“Max, mate, you’re gonna have to tell me what you’re getting at here,” Daniel tells him as he pushes sweaty curls back from his face. Max’s cheeks are tinged pink and Daniel thinks it’s not just the win celebration doing it, anymore. “Maybe come inside?” He suggests, nodding his head back at the door to his driver’s room, hand already reaching for the knob to push open.

He steps inside, Max following easily and closing the door behind them as Daniel goes to his little fridge to grab them both another electrolyte drink.

“Last year, you said,” Max starts, and Daniel looks back at him, turning back to face him. Last year. Max is never anything but literal. Suddenly, Daniel knows. Last Malaysian Grand Prix. 2016. Daniel had won. Max had –

“I said what?” Daniel asks, heartbeat starting to pick up.

Max had tried to kiss him.

After Daniel’s win, after their Red Bull 1-2 podium, after press and media and obligations, high on adrenaline… Max had knocked on Daniel’s driver’s room door and let himself in. Daniel had expected another round of congratulations, of celebrating their 1-2 together, but what he’d got instead was pressed up against the wall and an awkward, gangly attempt at a kiss before he’d been able to press his hands to Max’s chest and stop him.

Max had just turned 19 that weekend.

They’d agreed to forget about it and move on but Daniel doesn’t remember what he’d said.

Max does.

Of course.

“You said that I was just a kid,” Max tells him. He’s leaning back against Daniel’s door, hands clasped behind himself, casual and relaxed. “You said I was just a kid and I didn’t know what I was doing and that I was too young. I am twenty now, so I am not a kid anymore and I know what I am doing. I of course also knew what I was doing last year, but now I am twenty so probably now you will think I know a bit better.”

Daniel stares at Max, heart pounding, mind reeling. Max remembers everything. Daniel isn’t always sure whether to be awed or fearful.

It’s been a year. It’s been an entire year, to the weekend, and Max is right here, making a case for himself.

Daniel flashes back to last year, to the devastating rejection written all over Max’s face as Daniel saw him out of his room and back into Max’s own. He remembers the crushingly desperate feeling of want when Max had pressed him into the wall, and he remembers the crushingly depressing feeling of no when he’d pushed Max away. Max had been too young for Daniel, too young to be doing this, too young to be risky with his career by doing something like kissing his teammate.

Daniel had known, of course. He’d known. Max’s crush, puppy love, whatever it was had been on his radar for awhile now. Lingering glances, shameless staring, Max was endlessly enamoured with everything Daniel did or said, always laughing with him, eyes lit up, cheeks blushed pink. Always.

But Daniel knew what this sport would do to Max if this was public knowledge. Knew he couldn’t let that happen. Knew he had to be responsible and not let Max’s naivete fuck anything up.

Knew he wanted Max back.

Fuck.

“Max,” Daniel starts, heaving a sigh as he sits down on his couch and runs a hand over his face. They’re both still sweaty and sticky and disgusting. This is the worst time for this conversation. “Max, this isn’t a good idea. You’re still so young. Too young. For me.” Daniel makes himself say it. It hurts as much as it did last year. Last year. An entire year – more! – that Max has been thinking about this. God.

“When will I be old enough to decide what I want?” Max asks him and it’s intense, his frown. His stare. Max pushes himself off the door in a huff and strides over to sit himself down next to Daniel, crammed together on the little couch, thighs pressed up against one another. “Daniel, I am twenty. I am a man. It has been more than a year that I have wanted to be with you and I know I will want to be with you in another year, so what difference it makes?”

Max shifts to angle his body to be able to face Daniel head on and the intensity of his eyes, his words, makes Daniel feel small.

“If you do not want to be with me, then you should say,” Max tells him, blunt. “Of course I don’t think that would be the truth but I will accept it if you say,” he continues and Daniel cannot help the bubble of laughter he lets out. Max is so himself, all the time, and Daniel loves that about him.

“Max, do you have any idea how insane this is?” Daniel asks him, incredulous and unable to help but to keep laughing. He looks back at Max, this earnest, impossible boy - man, he reminds himself – in front of him. Max, with his sullen frown, serious expression, determined glare. Max, who knows always exactly what he wants and is never afraid to take it, to ask for it, to get it.

Max, who is brave.

“I do not think it is insane to like you,” Max says and Daniel breaks out into a grin. He cannot hold it back any longer. Max is so much. “I do not think it is insane, Daniel. I would like to kiss you. Perhaps I should have asked you last year, first. Then maybe you would not have pushed me away. Okay? Daniel, I would like to kiss you, please.”

Daniel tosses his head back and laughs; manic and unhinged and so overwhelmed by the rush of affection and delight and fear and shock that courses through him. Men stronger than him would crumble, he’s sure. His resilience is failing him in the face of Max’s earnest want and Daniel finds himself struggling to come up with reasons to say no.

Max is twenty. Max is young. Max wants to kiss him.

Daniel wants to kiss Max.

“Okay,” he says, smiling just as big and shaking his head a little. “We can’t tell anyone,” he says, because it’s true.

“Daniel, don’t be stupid,” Max says, but Daniel can see the light returning to Max’s brilliant blue eyes. “We of course cannot tell anyone else but that does not mean we cannot tell each other. I like you, Daniel. I want to kiss you. I am going to kiss you now, okay?”

Daniel grins, nods, and meets Max half-way.

#maxiel #my ficlet #established relationship snapshots

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liaromancewriter · 1 year

Text

La Vie Avec Toi

Premise: When it comes to love, these couples know it’s about every moment of every day.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine); Sienna Trinh x M!OC (Max Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,785

A/N: Submission for @choices-february2023, day 18 prompt "romance; @choicesflashfics wk 19, prompt 2 (in bold); @choicesholidays Valentine's Day prompt 2 (in bold); @choicesmonthlychallenge To Be prompt "sweet" ps. I imagined part 2 and 3 of this fic happening this past weekend.

Part 1: Cassie & Max

The music that filled the air was dreamy and romantic. A fire crackled in the fireplace, its flames casting shadows on the cream-colored walls. Outside, it was cold and snowy; inside, it was warm and golden.

The flaxen-haired king took his beautiful queen’s hand, pulled her into his arms, and they started to sway. He spun her around and around, the skirt of her dress flaring in a dance of its own. Her joyous laughter filled the air as he gripped her hand, twirled her away and then reeled her back into his arms.

She looped her arms around his neck, her body fitting perfectly against his, and closed the distance between their lips. It was a sweet kiss full of promise and love. And when he dipped her low, his strong hand sweeping along the curve of her waist, bracing her, it was a picture-perfect moment.

Cassie Valentine watched her parents dance around the living room, and her young heart longed for a love so strong it made every day, every moment romantic.

She should be asleep; it was late and a school night. But she’d awakened from a strange dream and heard the laughter and music. She quietly padded down the dark hallway to the landing with a banister that overlooked the living room.

Knowing she would get into trouble if anyone saw her, she lay on her stomach, resting her chin on folded hands.

Her parents had been cuddling on the couch, drinking wine from fancy glasses, talking and laughing. When the music changed, she saw her dad stand and formally bow as he took her mom’s hand.

And then they were dancing, and Cassie forgot about being discovered as she got swept up in the romance.

When she felt the air shift around her, she knew it was her twin brother Max. He hadn’t made a sound—something he was good at—and joined her on the floor, mirroring her pose.

“Why are you spying on mom and dad?” he whispered in her ear.

“Because they’re so beautiful together,” Cassie murmured, her heart full of yearning. “Someday, I’m going to have what they have.”

“Not me,” Max countered stubbornly. “Kissing gives you cooties.”

She ignored the comment and the gagging noises Max made. She loved her brother, but there was no denying that boys were stupid. They had no appreciation for romance, Cassie thought in annoyance.

As she continued to watch from her hiding place, she sighed dreamily. Someday.

Part 2: Cassie & Ethan

An arctic snap had the country in its grip, the sharp rays of the sun piercing the pristine blue sky deceptive in their promise of warmth. After Miami's heat and sandy beaches, the return to New England felt like being doused in an ice bath.

Ethan Ramsey turned away from the view outside and thought he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here. The condo’s walls were still unfamiliar; they had moved in just a couple of months ago. But it was already home. One that he and Cassie were making together.

The music drifting from the Bluetooth speaker was cheerful, full of sunshine and rainbows. It matched the mood in the sunlit kitchen inside the beautiful condo facing Boston’s waterfront.

He cast a furtive glance at his wife, humming along with the tune, her hips shimmying to the rhythm, while she chopped vegetables for a stir fry.

Ethan smiled inwardly that once upon a time, he wouldn’t be caught dead listening to syrupy pop. He chuckled, imagining someone somewhere laughing at how the mighty had fallen.

“What’s so funny?” Cassie asked, not looking up from her task.

“Just wondering how I got here with Taylor Swift playing in the kitchen instead of Puccini,” he grinned, strolling into the kitchen.

She angled her head when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. He nuzzled her neck and lightly bit the edge of her ear lobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. Her hand on the knife handle wavered, and he knew she was as affected as he was by the small gesture.

“I hate to break this to you, babe, but that’s not Taylor Swift,” Cassie grinned up at him, her lips grazing his jaw. “But you get an A for effort.”

“Lucky me,” he said sarcastically with an exaggerated eye-roll. He kissed the side of Cassie’s head, and then he turned away to open the refrigerator. “I’ll get started on the chicken.”

He reached inside to take out the container in which the chicken was marinating. When he closed the door, he found Cassie on the other side, leaning against the counter, arms folded across her chest.

“So this is what they mean.” Her green eyes narrowed to slits. “Put a ring on it, and then it’s ‘Can you pick up milk on your way home?’ and ‘I’ll get started on the chicken.’ Where’s the romance and grand passion, Dr. Ramsey?”

“Cooking together isn’t romantic?” he asked, confused, carefully setting the container on the counter. “Because that’s not what you said in the past.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she countered, disgruntled.

For a minute, he thought she was angry. But then he saw the twinkle in her left eye, a dead giveaway for when she was teasing him. Time to give Cassie a taste of her medicine.

“It doesn’t matter if you didn’t mean it. You still said it.” Ethan kept his tone grim, pretending hurt and annoyance, and secretly enjoyed the remorse gathering on her face.

Before she could react, he tugged her into his arms, placed two fingers on her chin to tilt her face up and covered her mouth. His tongue darted inside to duel with hers, coaxing a response, while his hands cupped her ass.

“How’s that for passion?” He retorted once he let her go.

Cassie sniffed dismissively, but a playful grin hovered on her lips. “Keep going.” She tapped one finger on her lips in invitation. “I’ll let you know when you get it right.”

She batted her eyelashes at him coquettishly. “Unless you’d rather romance the chicken instead?”

Ethan framed her face between his hands and leaned his forehead against hers. “You broke through every wall I had. How can I resist you now?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “The chicken can wait. I’d rather romance my wife.”

“Right answer!”

And then he was kissing her, or she was kissing him. Either way, they agreed they needed a lot of practice to get it right.

Part 3: Max & Sienna

Storm clouds gathered on the horizon, bringing with them the threat of rain. The night sky above the Potomac was never truly dark as city lights sparkled in the distance. A gusty wind rattled the windows, the occasional howling more suited to Halloween than February.

Inside the Georgetown apartment, a fire crackled in the fireplace, its red and orange glow warming the room. The low, soft sound of plaintive Blues music floated through the air, the sultry melody enhancing the intimacy of the scene.

Sienna Trinh was stretched out on the couch, her back resting on her husband’s lap while her head leaned against the couch arm. His legs were stretched out in front of him, socked feet propped on the Ottoman.

She scanned a journal article about RSV on her tablet and enjoyed how his fingers played with the edges of her hair. She didn’t think Max even noticed the absentminded gesture, engrossed as he was in his book.

As much as Sienna loved entertaining and going out on the town with Max, she cherished the quiet evenings they spent at home. Quiet companionship, content to be near each other even if they were doing their own thing.

Their relationship had grown long distance. It took living together for Sienna to realize how important physical touch was to them. Holding hands, arms wrapped around each other, foreheads touching, and his intoxicating kisses.

When she read the same sentence for the fifth time, Sienna knew her mind wasn’t on medicine. She set the tablet down and, as she had often done in the last few weeks, lifted her left hand to stare at the beautiful engagement ring and wedding band.

She peeked at Max’s right hand and the matching band she’d placed in an intimate wedding ceremony before Christmas. Once his cast came off the next week, she was looking forward to transferring it to his left ring finger, where it belonged.

There were times when she couldn’t believe it was real. And then she’d look at the symbols of their commitment to each other and know everything was as it should be.

Almost everything, she giggled. After all, their wedding night had been postponed because of his accident.

“Care to share the joke?” Max asked, marking his place with a bookmark before putting the book down on the end table.

“I really want to kiss you,” Sienna replied, a smile hovering on her lips.

“And that’s funny because…?” He quirked one eyebrow.

“I don’t want to stop at just a kiss. And, unfortunately, we can’t go further until you get the all-clear,” she explained.

She sat up, curled her legs under her and nestled against his side. Still smiling, she tilted her head back to meet his disgruntled gaze.

“That’s not a comedy,” he pouted. “It’s a frigging tragedy of Shakespearian proportions.”

Sienna burst into laughter at the peeved look on his face.

“I’m glad my predicament amuses you,” he muttered.

“You’re unbelievably cute when you’re grumpy,” she said, peppering kisses along his jaw.

The stubble tickled her lips. She blushed as she wondered how it would feel against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

“Cute, huh? Sure, let’s go with that,” he smirked, making it clear he knew exactly what was going through her brain. “Clearly, my cuteness makes you blush.”

Before Sienna could retort a comeback, his hand cupped her chin, closing the distance between them; his mouth stopped a breath away from hers.

His green eyes glinted with determination, and he teased her lips, tracing the seam with his tongue until she parted for him.

But he didn’t kiss her, content to tease and tantalize. The amusement on his face told Sienna it was on purpose.

“Just kiss me already,” she almost shouted in frustration.

Before she could get the words out, he was kissing her. His lips were hard and demanding, and Sienna’s passion matched his own. She locked her hands around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, and held on as he deepened the embrace.

Before she lost herself in the romance of the moment, Sienna's last thought was that Max was an expert kisser. And he was all hers.

------

All Fics & Edits: @a-crepusculo @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @choicesaddict5 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @mysticalgalaxysstuff @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @takemyopenheart @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @vi-writes-stuff @zahrachoices

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @lovealexhunt

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey

Max & Sienna only: @aallotarenunelma @storyofmychoices

#open heart #choices open heart #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #sienna trinh #sienna trinh x oc #writers on tumblr #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choicesfebruary2023 #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #sienna trinh x max valentine

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f1 · 11 months

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Canadian Grand Prix: Max Verstappen would like Fernando Alonso to win if he cannot

Max Verstappen and Fernando Alonso have been on the podium together five times so far this season Venue: Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, Montreal Dates: 16-18 June Coverage: Live text updates and radio commentary of all sessions on the BBC Sport website & app, with live commentary of the race on BBC Radio 5 Live and BBC Sounds app from 19:00 BST on Sunday. Full details Max Verstappen says that if he cannot win any race this year, he would like to see Fernando Alonso win it instead. Verstappen's Red Bull team have won all seven races so far this year and he says it is possible they could win them all. But the Dutchman said: "If you ask me one driver who I would like to see win a race, it's him." Verstappen, who leads the drivers' championship by 53 points, said Alonso "deserves it - he is a real racer". Alonso, a two-time champion with Renault in 2005 and 2006, last won a race for Ferrari in 2013. He spent four uncompetitive years with McLaren from 2015-18, stepped away from Formula 1 for two years to compete in endurance racing and at Indianapolis, before returning with Alpine in 2021 and then moving to Aston Martin for 2023. He is third in the championship and has finished on the podium in all but two races so far this year. Verstappen said: "I like him. He never gave up and you can see he loves the sport. Sometimes, after so many years of only having a car that is capable of driving in the midfield, maybe you lose a bit of that love but he is a real racer. He is an animal." Alonso said he was optimistic that Aston Martin would be more competitive in Canada this weekend than they were at the last race in Spain, when they had their weakest performance of the season. "It should be a good weekend," said Alonso, who qualified his Alpine second on the grid in the rain in Montreal last year, with wet weather predicted again for Saturday. "But we also had expectations in Barcelona and we didn't perform that race. We have a couple of new parts. Hopefully we can be a little bit more competitive than Barcelona." Verstappen is hot favourite to win on the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve on Sunday and a victory would be the 41st of his career, drawing him level with Ayrton Senna's total, with just Alain Prost, Sebastian Vettel, Michael Schumacher and Lewis Hamilton ahead. Verstappen said it was impossible to compare the two achievements. "People always have different kind of careers," he said. "Maybe some drivers get into a race-winning car sooner than others. Nowadays, we have more races than back in the day so I never really look at the number but as a kid I would never have imagined to be in that list. It is an amazing career for sure but you can't compare it." Verstappen said he understood why those watching F1 would be finding his domination of the sport a turn-off. "It is nice sometimes to have good competition," he sad. "For the sport in general, I understand of course if people get a bit bored if only one team is dominating. We have seen it also in the past with Mercedes and Ferrari and Red Bull. "For sure, I hope that more teams can get together. At least then, even if you have a little issue or whatever or you can't get the set-up fully at 100%, there is another team to win. "It is all about hard work. I appreciated what they were doing. It was super impressive at the time. I never really felt you had to stop that. It was all about trying to work harder and catch up. via BBC Sport - Formula 1 http://www.bbc.co.uk/sport/

#F1 #Canadian Grand Prix: Max Verstappen would like Fernando Alonso to win if he cannot #Formula 1

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

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Sunday Six 7.3.22

I had really hoped to get a chapter or two up today, but real life has intervened, so instead I'm just going to drop a couple of teasers here.

I hope everyone is enjoying their fourth of July weekend.

As always, spoilers are under the cut.

My Best Friend’s Girl Chapter 19:

“Riley, what’s wrong?” I asked in concern, sweeping her into my arms without a second thought.

There had been a time when I would have been hesitant to touch her, unsure if she’d want me to. Now I simply wrapped her in my arms, knowing instinctively exactly what she needed. When had that happened? It had been a gradual shift, born out of months spent in each other’s company, first at the palace then Lythikos, Applewood, Ramsford and finally random hotel rooms scattered across the U.S.

Long days of casual conversations, months of getting to know each other, trivia night, pool parties, shopping in the capital, inside jokes, discovering each other’s likes and dislikes. Nights full of drinking, joking, and sometimes real conversations, about politics, religion, our respective childhoods, our hopes, dreams, fears. Long walks in the gardens, through the hedge maze at the palace, exploring the vineyards in Ramsford, watching her bust her ass on the ice in Lythikos, holding her at night as her heart broke, laughing with her in the sunlight as it started to heal.

I had thought that I’d been in love with her from the first moment I’d laid eyes on her. I now knew that wasn’t true. I’d been enthralled, enchanted, infatuated. All of those feelings had been new, exciting and thrilling. But this was something more. What started out as friendship, and attraction, had grown deeper, fuller, richer. I knew this woman, I knew her, and I loved her, inside and out.

The King’s Punishment Part 3:

“So, what do you two have to say for yourselves?”

The men spoke at the same time,

“It was Liam’s fault!”

“It was Max’s fault!”

Riley lifted an eyebrow inquiringly, “Well, one of you is either lying or sorely mistaken.”

“Him!” They chorused together.

“Riley,” Liam was using his reasonable diplomat voice, “He provoked me into it, and I’m like ninety eight percent sure he did it on purpose.”

Riley turned toward Max, “That true, Max? Did you provoke him? On purpose?”

#angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc sunday six #my wips #wip stuff #writing wip #wip snip #trr #choices #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #choices stories you play #trr poly #my best friend's girl #my best friend's girl remix #drake walker #liam rys #maxwell beaumont

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intothewickedwood · 8 months

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1, 3, 7, 11, 19, 20, 21, 23 for Kathryn!

Yay, Kathryn! Thank you, Maria! <3

My first impression of them

I can't 100 percent remember. I think I was a little confused about who she was and thought she was David's demanding sister, or something. I thought they kinda looked alike. I don't think I warmed up to her until I saw her as Kathryn. But when she showed up in the hospital scene, I was so touched by how much she cared about David and how kind and sweet she seemed. I think I was questioning whether Henry's book was real but was also kinda wary in case she was a Regina minion. But I didn't wanna believe it because she seemed so nice.

Her bringing a basket of muffins was the cutest gosh darn thing I've ever seen in my entire life and I was fully sold by then. But I also loved that she stood up for herself and knew she deserved to seek and find her heart's desires- all while being incredibly generous and forgiving in Storybrooke and the EF.

3. A song that reminds me of them

I know she doesn't have hazel eyes, haha, but I came across this fan vid. and I just love it so much. It's on my favourite fan vid playlist (which I listen to, like, every other weekend). It's 'Behind These Hazel Eyes'.

youtube

7. A quote of them that you remember

"No, you're not. A friend wouldn't do this. A friend wouldn't lie. Everyone is lying to me!" - It just tears my heart out. Poor woman got caught in the middle of a mess that had little to do with her, and it almost ruined what she thought was her whole life. She must have felt so alone and like she could trust no one. My heart really went out to her. She deserved so much better. But the way she chose to look at things from a different perspective for her own sake, and tried to pursue real happiness, was so admirable. It's a shame she got drugged and locked in a basement afterwards! That'd must have been really horrible and terrifying. Poor Kathryn couldn't catch a break!

11. What’s the first thing you think about when thinking about the character?

I get the warm fuzzies. Season 1 nostalgia to the max! My favourite season is not my favourite season without Kathryn. It just wouldn't be the same. She has a very special place in my heart and I just want her to have all the happiness and I cry and I am baking her cranberry muffins as we speak, even though I really freaking hate cranberries. That's how awesome I think she is! I am willing to touch dried fruit with my human hands just for her!

19. The most random ship you've seen people have with them

I tried to look for a blog I thought I saw a rare Kathryn pair on a while back that I couldn't remember, but found Kathryn x Ingrid on another blog instead. I feel like I kinda get it, as to me they have similar vibes a.k.a they're both pretty regal. I gotta read it! It's here if anyone's interested!

20. A weird headcanon

One thing I've always thought deep down is that, despite essentially psychologically torturing her, Gold tried to be nice about it, if that makes sense. I think he maybe got her nice food, maybe sat with her, and tried to calm her – not that she knew what was going on. Don't get me wrong, Gold can be very cruel, but that cruelty is usually directed at people who have wronged him or those who made a deal with him without reading their contract properly, like poor Anna. Kathryn was completely innocent and likely made no deals, so I don't think he would hit her with his cane or anything (at least, I hope not!). He could have killed her like Regina wanted him to, but he didn't. Whether that was to ensure things would work in his favor, an act of mercy, or something in between, I suppose is a bit of a mystery. Nevertheless, what he did was still terrible.

21. When do you think they were at their happiest?

I think with Frederick pre or post curse. She seemed to have very fond memories of her time with him before he turned to gold, so probably then. But I like to think she'd find even more happiness after the curse, whether she ended up with him or not. Now I think about it, I wonder if she tried to cross Lake Nostos to save Frederick. I can't remember if she said she did. Did the siren seduce her too?? Where's that scene at?!

23. Future headcanon

I don't mind a happy ending where Regina doesn't end up with a love interest, although goodness knows I would have loved to see her end up with Facilier. But since canon won't let us have him back (not without more time travel, at least!), I think it would be nice if Kathryn and Regina reestablished a relationship and it maybe developed into something more. Maybe things didn't work out with Freddie (sorry, Freddie!) and things end up coming full circle, where they both end up at some sort of celebration party together. Maybe they're both feeling a little lonely, and Kathryn sits next to Regina, and they just talk and reconnect. Oh snap, this was more of a wish than a headcanon before I wrote it out, but I'm totally adopting it as an official headcanon now!

I like to think she is good friends with the Charmings too!

#ouat #once upon a time #kathryn nolan #princess abigail #ask #asks #darkpoisonouslove #ask game

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silverstonesainz-archive · 1 year

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top 5 carlos races!

omg okay had to ponder this but:

(1) silverstone '22

duh! first win, the vibes??? immaculate. i still hear crofty saying "for the first time in formula one, carlos sainz is victorious! he wins the british grand prix!" he took that win for himself, and for that i love it.

(2) canada '22

this race is the race i fell in love with carlos as a driver. watching him battle it out with max and nearly overtaking him was SO exhilarating. those turns and attempted overtakes at the hairpin??? fuck.

(3) monza '22

i didn't watch this race because i was busy, BUT my man and all those overtakes??? going from p18 to p4??? and in that stupid yellow??? so sexy. if it weren't for the safety car, he would've been on the podium. such a sexy fucking drive from him.

(4) brazil '22

just... ICONIC racing from this man. the sprint race was probably my favorite part of the weekend, but oh god the race itself was also phenomenal.

(5) brazil '19

his maiden podium, that was also on my birthday hehe. but another phenomenal drive from the back of the grid to the front. and although he physically finished p4 and got the podium bc of a penalty, his drive is still worth crediting. fuck what a drive.

d's 2k celly

#d's 2k sleepover!#carlos sainz #no because clearly im in love with this man

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made-ofmemories · 1 year

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When Life Tears You Asunder, But You’re Not Alone

(Chapter 17/19)

General Warnings/tags: Found family, implied Wayne/Susan in future chapters, Max & Eddie have a sibling like relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, Lumax and Steddie make appearances throughout the chapters but the primary focus is on the familial bonds between characters

Chapter specific warnings/tags: Quite a lot of Steddie in this chapter, a hint of ronance, El and Robin make a guest apperance, lots of fluff and not much else

Word count: 2081

Summary: Billy was a pretty shitty brother, there was no denying it, but Max still finds herself mourning for the sibling relationship they never got to have. With him gone she thinks so are her chances of ever having the big brother figure she’s always wanted. Then in a turn of events that she never saw coming, Eddie Munson waltzes into her life. Or more like, almost runs her over.

Notes: We have a special chapter that will be posted on Tuesday, before we return to our regular Friday posting schedule for the last chapter... (or two).

Co-written with the wonderful @ladydorian05 and crossposted on AO3.

Series masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie has grown used to Max waltzing into his trailer as if she owns the place. El accompanying her, however, is a new development.

“Hey.” He greets. He’s scribbling down lyrics in the little leather-bound notebook he keeps specifically for this purpose, his guitar propped up against the couch beside him.

“Hi,” El says, returning his greeting with a wave and a smile.

“We’re bored,” Max announces. Which is how the 3 of them end up at Family Video not half an hour later at Eddie's suggestion.

It’s a Saturday, but still early enough in the day that the rush of customers usually accompanying the weekend hasn’t arrived yet. El drags Max off to the romantic comedy section as soon as they step through the double glass doors and to Eddie's surprise she doesn’t even grumble about it. Robin had been behind the counter when they walked in. She smiles at him and then heads off to assist the girls, leaving him to browse the horror section on the other side of the store alone.

He runs his fingers across the spine of a VHS case. He’s not really looking for anything in particular, just wasting time until Max and El have picked what they want to watch.

“That’s a good one, have you seen it?”

Eddie jumps a little startled and turns to see where the voice is coming from just to see Steve with his back to him, stacking a shelf on the opposite side of the aisle.

“Yeah.” He replies, taking a quick glance back to the tape he’d been looking at, “I didn’t take you for a horror fan.” He’s seen the type of movie Steve usually chooses during group movie night, it’s never horror.

“Dustin.” He says and Eddie chuckles, that’s all the explanation he needs, “So,” Steve continues, finally looking over his shoulder at Eddie once he’s placed the last tape on the shelf, “Anything I can help you with?”

There’s a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of Steve’s nose, not his usual sunglasses, no these ones have clear lenses with a thin wire frame. It takes Eddie by surprise and he tries his hardest not to stare, he fails.

“Uh.” He says, momentarily forgetting the question. Right, movies, help, does he need help looking for a movie, “Nah, I’m good. Just waiting for the girls.” He explains with a nod in their direction.

“Looks like they might be a while.” Steve smiles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Eddie says, following Steve’s gaze over to Max and El. They’re still in the rom-com section with Robin giggling about something or other, “Nice glasses by the way, Stevie. They suit you.”

“Oh, Thanks. I forgot I was still wearing them.” He replies, taking them off and sheepishly tucking them into his pocket much to Eddie’s dismay.

“They look good, you should wear them more often.” Eddie comments, offering a little smirk as he bumps his shoulder with Steve’s.

“Really?”

“Really.”

There’s a beat of silence before Steve continues, “Hey are you sure I can’t interest you in a movie? We just got some new stuff in, not even on the shelves yet. I can give you first choice.”

He really hadn’t been kidding when he said he was just here to wait for Max and El, but he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with Steve. Besides, how is he supposed to say no to those pretty brown eyes?

“Sure, show me what you got.”

Eddie follows Steve over to the counter and he can’t help but hide his slightly surprised expression when he plucks the first movie from the top of the pile Steve has pulled out from the shelf beneath the cash register. He holds it up in Steve’s direction with raised eyebrows.

“That’s a good movie.” Steve states when faced with the copy of Top Gun Eddie is currently holding in front of him.

“Military propaganda and a cheesy romance?”

“Come on, I know even you aren’t that cynical, Eddie.” Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as he snatches the VHS back from him, “It has everything, action, drama, romance.” He explains, with a wiggle of his eyebrows at the word romance which is so ridiculous Eddie can’t help but laugh, “Which is not cheesy, thank you very much.”

Eddie hums, pretending to think about it as if seeing Steve’s face light up as he talks hasn’t already sold him on the movie a thousand times over, “Well, I guess there’s got to be a reason Nancy likes it so much right?”

“Nancy likes it so much because she’s had a Tom Cruise poster on her wall since 9th grade.”

The VHS is on the counter between them and Eddie takes another look at it, studying the printed image on the cover once more before coming to his conclusion, “He’s an attractive man. She has good taste.”

Steve looks surprised for half a second before he composes himself. The matter of Eddie’s sexuality has yet to come up, but he’s been far from subtle about it hoping that Steve would figure it out for himself. Robin didn’t have a lot of faith in the plan, but Eddie was still holding out hope it’d work.

“Yeah.” Steve says, looking at the VHS cover just as Eddie had a moment ago, “He’s not really my type though.” Eddie doesn’t think anything of the look Steve gives him after that. Steve’s type is women, that’s probably all he meant he assures himself.

“Tom Cruise is everyone's type,” Eddie replies and Steve just shakes his head, hiding a small smile that tugs at the edges of his lips.

“Y’know,” Steve drawls as he scans the barcode on the back of the box, “My shift ends in a couple of hours if you wanted to come by mine later and watch it there?”

“Sure.” He says it maybe a little too quickly and a little too eagerly he realizes just a second too late to stop himself.

That small smile that had been lingering on Steve’s face develops into something bigger, but they’re interrupted when Max and El come charging over right as Steve hands over the VHS. They’ve picked a movie, or rather a whole stack of them. Eddie pulls out some more crumpled bills from his pocket and hands them over to Max without a word, he knows neither of them have brought cash with them and this was his idea after all, then trades places with them and heads over to Robin.

“Well,” Robin says when she sees him approaching, “That was painful to watch.”

“What was?” He asks with a frown. Usually it was Max reminding him how gross he was, but this time he swears he hasn’t even done anything.

“You and Steve trying to flirt.”

He rolls his eyes, “We were not flirting.” Ok maybe he was, just a little bit, but no more than usual and Steve didn’t feel the same way so the whole thing was pointless anyway.

“Please, do you know how many times I’ve had to watch him pull that same routine with just about every girl that walks through those doors? Trust me, I know what Steve Harington’s dire attempts at landing a date look like.” She lets out an amused huff.

“We’re friends.” Eddie emphasizes, though he doesn’t sound as sure of that as he might have been a few minutes ago… Robin was starting to make him question things and his brain was busy ticking over trying to make sense of it all, “Steve isn’t into me like that…. Is he?” If anyone would know it would be Robin, She knew Steve better than he knew himself some days.

“You spend so much time together I’m surprised you haven’t morphed into one shared consciousness at this point. And didn’t he just invite you to watch Top gun with him? Alone? At his place? Do the math, Munson!” She pats him on the shoulder as she moves past him and flits off between the rows of neatly stacked VHS tapes as if she hasn’t just turned his entire world upside down and broken his brain in the process.

She wasn’t exactly entirely wrong. But all that stuff had started after his incident with Jason, they’d been friends before and that had just brought them closer it was just a friend helping a friend. At least that’s what he’d been telling himself, but his injuries were long healed now and he still found Steve a consistent presence in his life.

“Wait, but Steve isn’t-” He takes a quick glance around the store for anyone who might be in earshot, there’s a woman possibly a couple of years older than him a few rows over and Eddie drops his voice to be sure she can’t hear, “he’s not… like me.”

“That is something you should discuss with Steve.” She says with a meddling smirk on her face as she darts off again, narrowly avoiding bumping into one of the shelves as she makes her escape. She doesn’t get far before he catches up.

“Speaking of,” He says, close on her heels, “How’s Nancy?”

That catches her off guard and she falters for a second, “How is that even related to this conversation?”

“You know how.” Now it's his turn to smirk.

He hadn’t seen Nancy since Winter break, but she called on occasion. Had someone told him even just a year ago that he’d consider Nancy Wheeler one of his closest friends he’d have laughed in their face, but now he looks forward to their little chats whenever they’re possible.

He knew she spoke with Robin even more frequently than she did him, he knew about the letters, though Nancy had refused to tell him about the contents despite his begging, and the last time he had spoken to her he’d convinced her to confirm his suspicions about the crush she’d been harboring on Robin for months. Judging by the vibrant shade of red coloring Robins cheeks at the moment, it was reciprocated.

“She’s… good.” Robin squeaks. Max and El choose that moment to round the corner, saving Robin from further interrogation as they all but drag Eddie back to the van.

“Is Steve your boyfriend?” El asks out of nowhere just as they’re pulling out of the parking lot.

Eddie chokes on thin air, “What?” He splutters out once he’s remembered how to breathe again.

“Is Steve your boyfriend?” She repeats. Nope, hadn’t misheard her.

He sends a quick glare in Max’s direction, she’s seated in the passenger seat with her hand pressed firmly over her mouth in an attempt to suppress her obvious laughter. He knows she wouldn’t tell anyone about his little crush on Steve, or even that Steve is someone he would ever be interested in in the first place, but he’s also very confused about where all of this is coming from.

“Jonathan told me that sometimes dudes like dudes and girls like girls.” El elaborates, “And Steve always looks at you the same way couples in movies look at each other.”

Eddie is pretty sure this is karma for teasing Robin. Maybe he deserves it, he briefly thinks as he tries to put together a response and pointedly avoids thinking about the way Steve looks at him.

“Uh, no. No we’re not- he’s not my boyfriend, kid.”

“He should be.” Is all she says before turning her attention back to the tapes she and Max had picked out.

Eddie discovers a few hours later just how difficult it is to pay attention to a movie at Steve’s place. With Steve. Just the two of them. With Steve sitting right beside him, despite the fact that there is so much space on Steve’s big-ass couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn.

The movie isn’t all that bad, he ends up liking it, even if he did spend more time watching Steve than the screen. He leaves Steve’s house with even more questions and regretting not having the courage to ask not even one of them before he leaves.

If he buys Berlin’s single ‘Take my breath away’ the next time he goes to the record store because it resonates with him so much and the way Steve truly leaves him breathless sometimes, that’s no one's business.

Until Max finds the tape and relentlessly teases him about it for a whole week.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eleven #el hopper #max mayfield #robin buckley #stranger things

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