#Car Body Works Melbourne

[lnlightning81]

All American

Summary: An all American team on the grid.

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader, Max Verstappen x reader (breifly), Carlos Sainz x reader (breifly), Oscar Piastri x reader (briefly)

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Logan Sargeant Masterlist

Tag List

Logan’s year in formula one hadn’t ended the best, but neither had yours. Logan was dropped by Williams Formula One Racing whereas you had been dropped by Arrow Mclaren due to an injury at the end of the indycar season that meant you’d missed too many races and it was in your contract that you couldn’t miss more than four races.

However, for you, being dropped by Arrow was probably the best thing that had ever happened because Andretti was allowed into Formula One. Offering you a place within formula one after your ‘Great work in Indycar’ you couldn’t help but accept the offer. Working with an American company also helped you decide. 

Your first meeting in the Andretti office allowed you to meet your new team, your mechanics, your race engineer, your performance engineer, PR manager and everyone else who’d be surrounding you for most of the year. Your teammate wasn’t decided at this point, though. 

However, when you went back for simulation testing, your new race engineer and performance engineer were waiting for you. Except your new teammate was also doing some simulation testing. Logan Sargeant. 

You smiled over to him as you sat in the simulator. You were glad to see that he also got a second chance at racing. You knew he was a good driver. Just Williams didn’t have any trust in him, and the car wasn’t showing enough performance for him. 

However, your simulation testing was a little different. Andretti knew you could reach the times they were looking for; they just wanted to ensure that after your injury you’d be ready to race by the time the new season started. Once both yours, and logan's teams had left, you walked over to him to see him practising 

“Hey there” You smiled, leaning on the back of his seat 

“Hey” He looked up with a smile 

“So were teammates now huh” You smiled, and he nodded 

“Yeah I guess so. What happened with Mclaren?” He asked. Motorsports in America wasn’t a big thing, so most drivers knew yeah other 

“Broke my wrist and took longer than four races to heal, so they terminated my contract. I was mad at first. Fans were more than mad, but it’s in my contract. Getting injured isn’t on anyone’s agenda” You shrugged, looking at his data. 

“Anyway keep testing” You hummed watching as he raced around Melbourne. 

“I hate Melbourne” He mumbled, and you nodded 

“Change your racing line a little. Turn two try to come off the brakes a little later. How’s your stats been racing here before?” You asked 

“Twenty-three. I DNFed and twenty-four I got my car taken off me” He explained, and you nodded 

“When was the last time you raced here?” He asked 

“I did some testing for Mclaren two years ago? When I was their reserve driver but that was ages ago. Sim work every day almost though” You shrugged, and he nodded. 

“I guess that makes sense” He shrugged, and you nodded. 

“Oh look at that. See my tips work” You joked, walking over to grab your bag from your sim 

“Thanks. Any more tips?” He asked, and you shook your head

“Not for Melbourne. When we move on, give me a shout” You hummed. Walking out of the simulator, you walked down to the cafeteria. The best thing about joining an American company is that although you were on diets to keep your body correct while racing, they still make the best typical American food even if it’s diet themed. 

Thanking the woman behind the counter, you took a plate sitting down at one of the tables. Scrolling on your phone as you ate the chicken and rice. You hadn’t been announced for Andretti yet, but neither had Logan. They were waiting for the right time, apparently. 

Although speaking to your race engineer, they wanted to wait until pre-season testing, but the FIA wasn’t allowing that. It had to be announced at least a month before pre-season testing. Posting a picture of the simulator on instagram, you closed the app, opening up the group chat where you streamed with a few friends, including Max Verstappen. 

They were planning on streaming, but due to your training for going into Formula One. Looking up, Logan was sitting in front of you with his own plate of rice and chicken. 

“This is so much better than Williams” He chuckled, and you laughed 

“Yeah well first of all they’re British. Second of all it’s rice and chicken” You tilted your head to look at him. 

“What’s your plan for this afternoon?” He asked 

“Meeting with my performance engineer. She wants me to start my neck training” You huffed, and he laughed. 

“Neck training isn’t that bad” He shrugged 

“Yeah I know. I don’t mind neck training it’s just my friends have plans, and I’m missing it to torture my neck” You shrugged, and he nodded 

“Fair enough. How are you feeling about coming on the grid?” He asked, and you looked at him. It’s something you’d never thought about 

“Well. I’ve never actually thought about it, to be honest with you. I know Lando, Daniel, Carlos, Oscar, and Max, so I guess knowing some people helps? I obviously know Pato as well” You shrugged 

“Yeah, getting to know people really does help. It’s my biggest regret hiding in the Williams garage and not getting to know new people” You nodded with a small smile

“Well let’s make a deal. This year. You and I make as many friends as possible. I know Max and Daniel are troublemakers, so they’ll make sure I get to know people, so you’ll just have to follow me about” You shrugged with a smile, and he chuckled 

“That’s a deal L/N” 

A month later and you were now on the grid for pre-season testing sat in the Andretti garage just minding your own business as you watched Logan doing the testing, obviously sandbagging because the bosses didn’t want to show off what the car was able to do just yet. 

A flash of colour caught the corner of your eye as you looked over spotting a couple other drivers looking into Logan’s part of the garage which was open for all to see unlike your side which was blocked off due to the floor of your car was off. 

Pushing the headphones so they rested around your neck,, you walked over to the group of drivers who were being nosey about the garage. 

“Hello boys” You hummed tilting your head as you stood trying to figure out what they were looking at. 

“Y/N” Max smiled, giving you a quick hug 

“What are you all looking at?” You asked confused, causing Max and Daniel to shrug 

“No idea. Lando and Carlos just started staring at something” You looked back into the garage to see mechanics just sitting about. You shrugged, putting the headphones back on your head, shoving one side off so you could listen to them talk. 

“How’s your wrist?” Daniel asked 

“How's yours?” You asked, and he chuckled 

“Fair enough, but honestly, how is it?” He asked again 

“Physio is going well. Simulator work is going okay, and I guess we’ll see how actually driving goes when I get out there tomorrow” You shrugged 

“You’re not going out today?” Max asked, and you shook your head 

“Logan does today, I do tomorrow, and we both do the third day” You explained 

“Ferrari’s doing that as well” Carlos nodded with a shrug as you quickly jogged into the garage, hearing Logan’s panicked voice through the radio. 

“Jesus” You mumbled while watching the TV. Someone stopped on track right as Logan was doing a flying lap, causing him to go into the gravel trap. His panicked radio broke your heart, hearing him ask if he had done something wrong and the fact he had hurt himself trying to save himself from crashing into someone else. Biting your lip as the rest of the drivers stood next to you watching the TV. 

“What happened?” Oscar asked with a frown 

“Someone stopped on track during his flying trap” You explained, watching their facial expressions change as you were called over to the pit wall. Jogging over and standing behind Logan’s race engineer and your team principal 

“Change of schedule. Logan’s floor is damaged so you’re going out this afternoon” You nodded slightly walking back into the garage knowing that you’re going to have to get changed out of the nice comfortable uniform Andretti had provided. 

Having changed into your fireproofs, you walked out to the garage to see the drivers talking to Logan. Walking over to him, you wrapped your arms around him from the side

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Don’t beat yourself up for it” You smiled up at him. Over the past month, you had become very close with Logan. Maybe a little closer than teammates should probably be, but you both had a lot in common, including being American. 

“You’re going to do great though” He shrugged, and you looked him in the eyes 

“Is your tongue okay? I heard you bit it” You frowned, and he nodded

“Yeah, it was bleeding a little, but by the time I got back here, it had stopped” He shrugged, and you nodded 

“Okay” You nodded, accepting your equipment from your performance engineer. Most of the other drivers went back to their own garage. 

As you put your earphones in and pulled the balaclava on your race engineer went over the plan for the afternoon. With a nod, you pulled your helmet on, ensuring it was tight before getting in the car. Pulling your gloves in as a mechanic placed your wheel in the car 

“Radio check Y/N” They nodded 

“Loud and clear” You smiled

Tag list

@bearryyy

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@f1kenzzz

@evie-119

@ahgase99

@velocesainz

@callsignwidow

[tomorrcwz]

✰ LATE NIGHT'S DESIRE , O. PIASTRI

[ preview ] working as a mclaren strategist for years, the newest driver is the perfect candidate to satisfy your hunger — he does make it easy for you, coming to your door in the middle of the night.

[ tw ] smut, unprotected sex, dom!fem!reader, teeny tiny little bit of corruption kink, spit kink, inappropriate work relationship | gif by @princemick

[ a/n ] idk what this is but yeah slay or whatever bruh. Might write more smut about oscar, I'm really fixed on him rn + ITS MELBOURNE GP and in honor of that i had to write a little something

. minors do not read | masterlist .

The sight of the quiet, charmingly awkward Oscar makes your blood pump fastly though your veins as the desire within you grows. You know its wrong, having inappropriate thoughts about a co-worker, one that isn't as secure as you are on the team but you can't help yourself with it; the need to fuck whoever is handsome and new is strong enough to make you black out rules.

First you had Lando — he was eager to fuck you as you pleased, then you had to have Daniel, who mind you, wasn't as easy to get in your bed and he also wasn't to corrupt as he was the one to mirror your actions and pull some stuff. Sadly it ended rather fast with him getting a girlfriend. But you still have Lando every other month as the boy can't keep a girl around, making him fall regularly in your bed or wherever you are to fuck. It's not that fun anymore, quiet bland. The routine is always the same — first he'll finger you to get you wet enough and then you push him to whatever surface and take his cock. Afterwards you clean yourself, Lando already out of the door.

So, that brings you to Oscar.

He's fresh blood, newly single, and dear lord in heaven over the winter break he put on a lot more muscles, looking ridiculous strong, causing your pussy to flutter whenever you see him. You flirt with him quite often and you do see his brown eyes cloud with lust, but you want to take your time. There's no need to rush.

But the day comes.

Its Sunday night, hours after the race and celebrations of Oscar taking P3, when you hear knocks on the door of your hotel room. Reaching for your phone, the homescreen only shows a few messages from people you're currently not interested in responding. No Lando. Normally, he'd shot a text beforehand, so you're not sure of who is standing opposite the wooden door.

Breathing in, you swing your bare legs off the bed and walk across the room, opening the door. The sight greeting you leaves your mouth agape — Oscar's wearing an maroon satin shirt, tucked into a pair of black slacks. On his thick fingers are two rings which you've never seen him wear but it suits him. He looks hot, even more so with his hair all toulouse and a curl glued to his forehead. It's an indicator that he is influenced by Lewis and Guanyu, both very fashionable drivers on the grid, and you could kiss them right now because Oscar has never looked this hot. He is but this is otherworldly.

"Everything alright, Oscar?", you ask, crossing your arms under your breasts and unintentionally pushing them up, presenting the man with your more than welcoming cleavage.

He can't help himself; his focus rests on the soft curves of your tits, the skin glistening under a sweat film the heat of middle east brings.

Clearing his throat, the Mclaren driver, sends you a dashing smile. "Yes, actually I've missed you at the celebration and was wondering if you—", he stops himself, cheeks flaming hotly.

"If I want?"

You can see the thoughts running around faster than the car on the track earlier. Must be hard to grasp whatever plagues his mind.

"I was wondering if you'd celebrate with me", he whispers, somewhat bashful which is endearing.

"Sure, let me throw on something else to wear, can't go out in this", you say, hands moving across your body to clarify your point; due to the heat you're only wearing some boxers and a flimsy babydoll top. Oscar gazes at you, shaking his head. "No, no, I mean celebrate in, you know . .", he stumbles over the words, blush now burning his ears too.

Oh. Oh.

To end his misery, you catch his wrists to pull him inside before hitting the door close with your foot and shove him against it.

For the first time you kiss him, all teeth and tongue, and its different from what you have imagined — his hands are rougher, caressing your lower back, creeping under the top to feel the warm skin of yours. Grabbing you by the hips, he sloths his dick against your stomach and grinds. He doesn't feel small, maybe even bigger than his teammate. In your imagination, he was softer yet he let you guide him to bed exactly like dream-oscar did and falls backwards on top of the cream coloured sheets, breath hitching in anticipation.

"Remove your clothes, baby."

You reach for the hem of your top as you command him, letting him stare at your tits while he steps out of his bottoms and throws the shirt in a corner. His milky smooth skin's glowing in the dim lighting a street lamp spends, and you see a map of freckles on his chest as well as a happy tail lending down to his beautiful cock.

Spitting in your hands, slander finger gently touch his length, causing Oscar's head to fall back, lips wide agape and you take the opportunity to spit in his mouth. "Shallow, Osc, be a good boy f'me, yeah?", you coe, hot breath fawning the auricle. He does, groaning lowly but its getting louder when you bring your legs on either side of his lap, left hand grabbing his cock and coating it in your wetness before probing the fat mushroom tip at your pussy, gliding down till every inch is inside you.

The feeling of his cock might aswell change everything; he's the biggest you've ever taken, scraping and burning you inner spongy walls deliciously as he kisses your cervix.

Fuck Lando, he doesn't have anything on Oscar.

"M so full, you're filling me up so good, baby", the praise let the man smile in a haze, far lost in how good you ride him. Your wet hole holds his grith snuggly as you fuck yourself on his cream coated length — his eyes roll back in pleasure at the sight of a white ring forming on the base of his dick, something he has never seen before, and it spurrs him on to grind his hips into yours, getting a worish wail out of you.

You fuck him till his abdomen thighten and he pumps you full of cum, that is oozing out of your desperately moving body, chasing your own orgasm. Oscar leans in, bitting on your pulse point. Then you fall over the edge, legs shaking as you still on top of him.

After catching your breath, you charmingly smirk at him before he grinds up in your fluttering hole — he's already getting hard again.

[norlestappen]

The Williams Shitstorm - LS2

Summary: After Alex crashed in Australia, Logan was just ready to be sad with y/n, but y/n was having none of that. She was ready to fight everyone to make sure her boyfriend was happy again. Sad-boyfriend!Logan x confident gf!reader

Time flew by, you cheering for your boyfriend, feeling so confident in his performance in the current season. You felt so happy knowing that Logan got his second chance and could finally prove that he was just as talented as the other drivers on the grid.

When you used to work in a boring office, you would always miss your boyfriend, seeing him on the television that was positioned on the other end of the room.

Dating a racing driver had its ups and downs, but you would never trade it for the world. You had a gentle, kind, and wholehearted man by your side, who never once doubted your abilities or you.

It seemed like the perfect opportunity when you were offered a job in Williams when Logan resigned for another year. You felt ecstatic being able to stay with your boyfriend, still being able to work and finally having that free time together that you guys always missed out on.

All of that gratefulness ended when you were in Melbourne, Alex had just crashed in FP2 and they had to find a solution on what to do. You were on edge a little bit, not liking the fact what the team was talking about. Getting Alex to race in Logans car? Impossible. Trying to repair his car? Unless they were magicians, that would be pretty impossible too. You were getting impatient, waiting in Logan’s drivers’ room, wanting an answer on this whole situation. You knew that Logan would agree to anything that James made him do, because he was just that person. Never arguing, in hopes to not raise any attention to himself.

So, when the door opened and he just laid down next to you on the tiny couch, you just knew something must have happened. He would always try to escape his mind by cuddling into you, like an infant. But you also knew that there was no way to get the information at that given moment. He needed to calm down, collect his thoughts and just relax before approaching the subject.

In the meantime, you were texting the wags group chat, trying to get more information on whatever drama was going on in the other teams. But most things weren’t new.

Kika and Flavy were complaining about Alpine being shit. Alexandra and Rebecca had their own conversation going on, while both Lilys, Luisa, and you were discussing what was going on with Logan. Barely a few minutes went on, when you got a message of Alex’s Lily:

Lily Albono: heyy girl, so I just talked to Alex, and I got horrible news. Alex is fine btw, but idk about Logan. Is he with you? Alex is worried. Apparently, Alex is driving Logans car tomorrow? Wish I had better news, but James said that Logan is sitting out this GP since Alex always has more points than him.

Your phone fell down, accidentally hitting Logan’s head as it fell down onto the floor. You couldn’t even process what happened as your whole body was suddenly fueled with anger and frustration.

Sitting up, you looked at your confused and sleepy boyfriend and you just hug him tightly. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lo? You do know that you can always tell me anything, right?” He looked up at you, nodding slightly, tears escaping his eyes already.

“You know about it, don’t you? That I can’t race anymore this week?” You nodded, not wanting to scare Logan because you knew that he was just the babygirl in this relationship.

[callmewrinkles3]

Message In A Bottle - DR3 x fem!OC

Masterlist

Summary: After Dan lets something slip in their phone call after FP2 in China, Em makes a split second decision to make sure he’s ok. Three flights later it’s worth every moment of it.

Warnings: Smut (18+ only!).

Word count: 8.6k

A/N: We know that 2022 won the poll, but we have been working on this one for quite a while!

April 2019

The alarm at one fifty in the morning was too loud as Em hit her phone to switch it off, rolling over to pick the offending object off the nightstand. If anyone had ever told her that she would be willingly awake so she could watch cars do a Formula One practice at two in the morning she’d call them a liar, but there she was. She dragged herself to the couch with her phone in one hand and a blanket in the other to create a cocoon to watch practice from.

She kept a look out for Dan’s yellow and black car, watching him take the track with ease. Her nerves were still high, she couldn’t forget how he looked when he’d DNF’d in Australia, and then the sadness in his voice when she called after the Bahrain race. She’d wanted to be there with him, but she couldn’t justify the cost of flights and it fucking sucked. Em missed her boys and the three weeks they’d been apart so far had been fucking awful. And it was nearly another week until she’d arrive in LA to go to Coachella with Dan.

Seeing Dan finish the practice near the top of the timings made her smile, and she texted a selfie of her face in the dark room along with a well done, proud of you to him. Watching him do media in that stupid yellow cap made her grin to see an actual smile on his face for the first time in weeks. Almost everything to do with Dan made her smile if she was honest and she couldn’t help it. Once he was on her screen she hit send on the text, watching as the moment his phone vibrated in his pocket he stilled for a millisecond. She could see how his expression and body language changed. For nearly anyone else it would have been unnoticeable, but Em wasn’t just anyone. Ten minutes later she had a response.

You were watching? It’s three in the fucking morning baby girl.

I couldn’t miss you driving.

Instead of another text as a response her phone buzzed with a call, Dan’s grin filling her screen. She answered, determined to keep happy with him.

“Hey Handsome, well done!” She said as Dan let out a sigh.

“Thanks. I…yeah. At least we finished. We made it through the practice and neither engine broke down.” There was no sassy reply, no silly comment, no nickname. It was worrying.

“Dan, you can’t perform miracles when the car is still developing. You were ahead of Pierre, you were barely behind Max. You beat Nico. You’re getting everything you can out of this car already. The points are coming, Babe, I promise.”

“Yeah.” He sounded dejected and she wanted to wipe his frown away. Dan’s face should never have a frown on it, he was built to smile. “I just miss you. Can you please just come out? Never mind, it’s stupid. Forget I said anything. It’s too fucking far away, I hate being thousands of miles away.”

It was the disappointment in his voice that made her make a split second decision.

“Dan…”

“Look, I have to go, we’ve got an engineering briefing and Mike wants to do some stretching. I’ll talk to you soon.”

He hung up without saying goodbye and that’s when Em knew just how bad it was. Her encouragement had helped him before in Melbourne, it had helped when they FaceTimed after the race in Bahrain, but this time it did nothing.

She checked the time - quarter to four in the morning. She could do this. Daniel deserved the effort. It took fifteen minutes to change, pack a backpack with some clothes, and order a taxi that was waiting outside her flat to bring her to Heathrow. The driver thought she was crazy with just her carry on, asking her questions.

“Where are you off to then, Luv?” He wondered, a proper Cockney accent asking questions.

“Last minute trip to China. A friend needs me.”

“Without a suitcase?”

“If I spend the time to pack I won’t make it in time. All I need is some clothes and I can sort everything else when I’m there.”

“Must be a really important friend for you to do a trip like this.” He smiled as he looked at her through the rear view mirror. Em just nodded, not really sure what to say.

She made it to the Hainian Air ticket counter and handed over her credit card to pay the disgustingly expensive ticket charge. It was about to wipe out most of her savings but seeing Dan’s face when she got in would be worth it. Before she boarded her first flight - the first of three because ew - she called Blake.

“Hey Ems, can I call you back? I’m about to go into a meeting.”

“I won’t be able to answer. Is Dan there?”

“No. What’s going on?” Her neighbour sounded confused and she grinned, half listening to the announcement that her flight would board shortly.

“I need you to organise a car to meet me in Shanghai International at ten fifteen in the morning to bring me to the track.”

“Ems. What the fuck?”

“I’m waiting to board my flight, I get into Shanghai in the morning. Blake he called me and he needs me. He’s not okay. So I’m about to get on a plane and I’m coming straight to the track. Can you get me a pass so I can get in?”

“Consider it done. You’re insane. You know that?”

“You adore me anyway.”

“Damn right I do, TimTam. I’ll book the car and make sure Dan doesn’t know. Text in between your flights?”

“Gotcha. And thanks. I’ve gotta go, we’re boarding.”

The fact that Blake didn’t argue with her meant that she was doing the right thing. Michael was the optimist in their group, he was the one who insisted everything would turn out great at all times. Meanwhile Blake was the realist. It was part of his job as Dan’s manager. He was realistic and honest and blunt when he needed to be. It was part of why she adored him so much. This had to be a good thing.

If you asked Em exactly what she did on her layovers she couldn’t tell you. The one in Brussels was long, eating breakfast and people watching to get her through it. It was getting to evening in Shanghai and she wanted to be as on time as she could be. The main thing she did was cancel her flight to LA for Coachella. This trip was wiping her out enough, the festival wasn’t happening. Maybe next year she could do it. At least the BA flight was the refundable option, it’d cover part of the cost of her flight to China.

The final thing before boarding the flight to Beijing was texting Dan that she was in client meetings all day and wouldn’t be able to talk to him, but good luck for FP3 and she’d try to call him before qualifying. On board the flight Em just tried to sleep for most of it. It was ten hours long and she spent most of it with a crappy pillow behind her head and thin blanket over her lap thanks to the broken sleep the night before. The food wasn’t great but it wasn’t the worst, and she forced down the breakfast they gave her. Nerves made it hard to eat, so nervous about seeing Dan. Would he actually be happy to see her? She hoped so. He said he wanted her there, but it was easy to say that when she wasn’t able to actually get there.

When she arrived in Beijing and connected her phone to Wi-Fi there was a text from Dan saying he missed her. She couldn’t reply yet, UK Emmy should be in bed before getting up for FP3. The other texts were from Blake confirming that someone would be waiting for her at arrivals, and how to get her pass and where to go once she made it to arrivals. Passport control was a pain, but she made it through after some questions about the last minute booking and why Shanghai. Blake’s texts confirming the pass and photos of her at other races getting her through.

The long layover in Beijing gave her a chance to drink yet more coffee and eat some breakfast to prepare for the chaos that was about to ensue. The two hour long flight went by quickly, and once she was off the final plane for a few days she walked straight out into baggage claim to search for whoever from Renault got the task of picking her up. Instead of a driver or someone in a team shirt Blake stood there, a wide grin on his face as she hugged him.

“I figured it was easier to just pick you up myself. Remember when you said that I just needed to get you a pass for Melbourne? That you didn’t want to go  to any other flyaway races?” She laughed at his joking tone, watching as he took in her lack of luggage. “Where is everything?”

“If I packed I’d miss my flight. I’ll need to pick up something because I’ve just got a few tees and extra underwear, nothing else. How long will it take to get to the track?”

“I thought you’d want to go to the hotel?”

“If I get near a bed I’m falling asleep for the day, so track it is. How is he?”

“Honestly? Not great. Frustrated, he reminds me of the end of last year. 

Her heart broke at Blake’s words, thinking about the way Dan had nearly given up at the end of last year. They’d worked so hard to help him this year and if it didn’t work she didn’t know what they’d do. The hour drive to the circuit felt like a lifetime, Blake telling her to nap on the drive so she could see him when she got there. It was scanning her pass and going straight to the Renault garage, waving at the mechanics she’d met in Australia and nodding at Cyril, who had a wide smile when he saw her.

Practice was nearly over but she watched the end from his drivers room. The last thing she wanted was Dan seeing her in public, she wanted their reunion to be private. She knew everyone would keep that she was there a secret so it was safe until he came in. Instead she sat in the small room with the tiny tv, watching Dan’s car solidly in P13. It was only practice as she counted down, but she knew he’d be devastated by it. Hearing him over the radio asking where he was compared to Nico hurt her heart and she wanted to run down to the garage to see him. It might have been practice but things weren’t good at all for him.

The cameras were focused on Dan getting out of the car to talk to his engineer, flashing a wide grin at the lenses. She could tell it was fake as soon as she saw it, his eyes not lit up like usual. All Em wanted to do was run down to him and wrap him in her arms, but she couldn’t save him from the media questions. She muted the tv as media rounds began, wanting to see his face but not listen to him blame himself. A couple more minutes and he could relax and be himself, she could hold him and be held by him and have that reminder that people cared about him for so many more reasons than just being a driver. They could hide from the world until his engineering meeting, and she’d stand in the garage to watch him in qualifying.

They cut from the interview with Daniel and her phone buzzed from with a text from Mike to bring her back to reality. As she opened her messages one from Dan came in, asking if she was watching. A quick I’ll talk to you in 5 xx was enough to stop him from calling her straight away, her message from Michael a warning that Dan was on his way back. 

She hated keeping anything from him, hated that she’d told him a lie that she was busy with clients and time zones so she couldn’t talk to him while she was flying. Lying to Dan just felt so, so wrong. She’d never drawn that line between them. From the moment they started texting she always answered the phone when Dimples called her. There’d been too many talks when they were on opposite sides of the world for her not to, too many times she’d gotten a call where she’d answer with sleep thick on her voice and he’d immediately curse and try to do timezone maths. For a man who knew so much about engineering and the physics of airflow, he couldn’t always do basic maths.

She sat there nearly vibrating with nerves and excitement as she heard three all too familiar Australian accents coming towards her. She didn’t know what they were talking about and she didn’t really care. If it was important she’d find out later, but Dan was right there and she’d get to see his big brown eyes in a moment. The door opened as Dan entered first. Blake and Michael grinned at her from behind him as Dan ranted before realising she was there.

“I know its a project but I don’t even know if I’ll finish the race. If I DNF tomorrow then I’m the first to do that since 2017. Another one in Baku and I’m the first to do that since Alonso and Sainz in 2015. It’s so… Emmy?”

Dan turned around and finally saw her sitting there with a smile on her face. His own lit up as he realised it was actually her, coming across the small room to pull her into a hug. His arms wrapped around her waist and shoulders as she pulled him in tightly, their height difference coming into play. She didn’t care that he was in his sweat soaked nomex fireproofs, that he smelled of sweat and fuel and rubber. Dan was there and she was there and despite the cost and hardship this hug was so worth it.

“You’re here?” He asked, barely more than a whisper.”

“Hi, Babe.” She smiled as she leaned against his body wile speaking so lowly that nobody else could hear her. There were times when she was sure that despite being a grown man, a professional athlete, Dan was so fragile that if she spoke too loudly he’d break. This felt like one of those times.

“What are you doing here?”

It broke her heart to take her hands from around his body but she knew he needed to look at her. His hands didn’t release her, just arms extending to give her space. The only real movement he made was to cup her cheek with his right hand, his thumb running along the soft skin.

“You asked me to come, so here I am.” She shrugged casually, acting as if crossing half the world in less than a day to see him was the most normal thing she could do in the world. Even in the surreal universe Dan lived in it wasn’t, but the awe on his face was so worth it. “And I know you’re going to say it so no, I can confirm you didn’t crash and hit your well protected head very hard. You’re not hallucinating. I’m really here. I’m real and a mess and I’ve spent too many hours on too many planes, but I’m real.”

He pulled her body against his before she could even think about it. It was the tightest hug she thought he’d ever given her, even closer than their first hug, but she wasn’t complaining about it. Em had taken three flights and dealt with awkward border patrol just so she could get a hug exactly like this one, so she held on and hugged him back. What she didn’t expect was Daniel to hide his face against her neck like a shy kid. She definitely didn’t expect to feel him place a soft kiss against her neck or his hands running up her back under her shirt as if his life depended on it, memorising every square millimetre of skin. As she felt him squeeze her tighter she just held him closer, ignoring the sweat and grime that would usually make her push him off.

“Thank you,” he whispered. It was so real and sincere that it broke her heart to hear him.

“You don’t need to thank me. I missed you too,” Em confessed. Saying it twice in twenty four hours was a lot for them, but it felt right to get it off her chest. Dan deserved to know she missed him whenever they weren’t together. “But you need to get changed, Babe.”

“What, do I stink too much?”

“Not as much as I do after travelling, but you have your engineering debrief. Go and I’ll have your lunch when you get back.”

She tried to ignore the disappointed whine Dan let out from the back of his throat. She ignored it the same way she ignored the exasperated breath he always released just before letting her go. She knew that little breath the same way she knew the back of her hand or the tattoos covering his thigh.

It was his little “I don’t want to do this” complaint. She’d heard it so many times before, especially early on dark mornings when he had to leave the comfort of her bed and the warmth of her body against his. It was the same little breath before his inevitable “I wish I could stay” when he had to go back to his hotel room alone instead of falling asleep with her in his arms. It was the same breath he let out when they had their final hug in an airport before she got on a flight to London and he flew to wherever the next race was, even though they just wanted to stay together.

This breath was exactly the same, but instead of letting her go so she could catch a plane, he was the one who had to leave to go to work.

“Are you having lunch with me?” He asked, looking down at her face and moving her hair from her shoulder.

“If you want me to.”

“I always want you to. And I can smell you, you don’t stink.” Dan grinned, stroking her cheek with his thumb and making her smile.

“I really do. I need to steal your deodorant. And maybe one of your shirts. I sort of didn’t pack anything to make my flight.”

“Whatever you want, it’s yours. But I do have a price. And it’s kind of expensive…”

Em didn’t need to be able to read minds to know what Daniel wanted. More than eighteen months of knowing him and almost a year of sleeping with him was enough for her to know his mind perfectly. She didn’t need to ask permission to put her hand on the back of his neck, push up on her tiptoes and meet him halfway to push their lips together. It had been more than three weeks since she’d seen him and she had no intention of flying home without at least one kiss. Even if all she’d gotten was a goodbye one. Blake and Michael had left the room when they were hugging and Em was so glad. She didn’t intend to have a full make out session right there in the middle of the room when she knew Dan needed to get ready and leave, but the second he deepened the kiss she was lost.

She missed this so much. She missed his kisses, the feeling of their tongues touching and the taste of his lips. She missed feeling him smile against her lips. She missed how his hands roamed her body like he was trying to remember every single inch of her even though he knew her by heart now. She missed tangling her fingers in his messy curls, the way he’d moan at the sensation and pull her even closer to him. She missed how he made her lose the entire concept of time because there was nothing better than Dan and being together.

She missed the way her lips turned red and tender thanks to stubble burn that matched the inside of her thighs, the way just that sensation could turn her on. She missed the wetness between her legs that appeared as if by magic when he touched her, and his cocky grin when she begged him to touch her because she was so desperate. She missed the butterflies in her stomach making a mess so big that she would come close to saying out loud what she’d barely admitted to herself. That she’d blurt out he was the best she’d ever had. The best sex, the best kisses, the best man she had opened her heart to and he’d made a home in it.

“Is that enough?” She asked while her lips still touched hers even as she spoke, trying in vain to hide the smile he’d put on her face. He didn’t need to answer, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Daniel and she was so thankful for that because it was never enough for her either. Dan reached to kiss her again, running the top of his tongue against her lower lip, making her moan softly as he did. They stayed like that for longer than they should have until logic came roaring back to Em’s brain and she finally broke their kiss.

“You need to go.”

“Just another minute?”

“I’ll be right there with the boys waiting for you, ok? It’s not like I can go anywhere until I work out how I’m getting home. I’ll see you after your debrief for lunch.” She pecked his lips once before moving away.

“Monday is gonna be a fun day for us, yeah?”

“Go!” 

She left the room with one of Dan’s spare tees in her hand, along with a stick of deodorant. Michael pointed her to a bathroom so she could attempt to make herself look more human than she actually felt. A hair tie bunched the shirt at her hip instead of it being a dress, and she could act like she belonged in the paddock with her pass around her neck instead of just tagging along. Michael and Blake waited for her, walking across to Renault hospitality with her and ordering a caramel latte as she sat down.

“Lunch will be over in twenty, Dan should be back by then. Is he ok?” Michael asked, Em nodding as she took a sip of the drink.

“He’s doing better. We didn’t really have a conversation, I just let him get his feelings out. I thought that was more important. I promised him I’d be here for lunch.”

“Will caffeine get you through the day?” Blake asked and she shrugged.

“I think I got about six hours sleep on the flight? We left Brussels at two their time, so nine here. And arrived in Beijing at six in the morning. I’ll need chocolate and caffeine.” The three laughed, Mike putting a sponsor chocolate next to her coffee.

“It’s you, I figured you’d want some at the very least.”

“You know me too well, Mikey.”

Dan arrived as their lunches were being put on the table, sliding into the booth beside Em and hooking his foot around her ankle. His plate of meat and veggies looked unappetising to her, but Dan ate quickly while she picked at her chicken noodles.

“You ok?” He asked, Em nodding in response.

“Just tired. Food’s good though.” She made herself keep eating, letting the conversation and music wash over her as she did. She managed to finish the plate, following everyone back to the garage and standing in the back beside Blake. He handed her a set of black headphones with a silver Renault logo on one ear. The other had Emmy in small silver script. Em raised an eyebrow, Blake smiling at her expression.

“Dan wanted to make sure you could listen to his radio during qualifying and the race, no matter which ones you’re at. So he got you your own headphones.”

When Dan came down in his fireproofs with his race suit half done up he walked over to them, Em reaching out her arms for their hug. He pulled her close before they separated, doing up his suit and putting his helmet on.

“Go fast, Danny,” she whispered and saw his eyes crinkle in a grin, kissing the side of his helmet before he went back to the car and she stepped out from behind the tires to the viewing area. Nico was on his side of the garage getting ready and the last thing she wanted to do was get in anyone’s way.

If she was actually more awake and alert she’d have loved watching the different cars go past the garage. Since she’d met Dan she’d been to more races than she ever thought possible, and seeing the cars drive down the pit lane at slower speeds than on track hadn’t lost its shine. It was still weird to her that she was on nodding terms with multiple drivers, that she was on first name terms with a world champion. But there she was.

Seeing Dan’s name easily into Q2 made her grin, and the nail biting wait to see if he made it to Q3 was painful, but when he did it she squeezed Blake’s hand. It was the first time this season, but he was there. He was starting in the right half of the grid, the intense pride surging through her as she grinned.

Seeing him get to seventh and finish there at the end of qualifying? That was the icing on the cake. The garage celebrated the fourth row lockout for the team after a really solid qualifying performance. As Dan got out of the car he immediately made his way to them, wrapping them all in hugs. Em wanted to reach up and kiss him but they were in public, she couldn’t. It was a hug that lasted for slightly longer than appropriate, but neither of them could care.

They all agreed to head back to the hotel once Dan’s debrief was over, room service dinners and an early night. Tomorrow was too important to even think about staying for dinner in hospitality, sleep before the all important race the plan. Em could feel the exhaustion hitting her, a pilfered Red Bull from outside the energy station that she’d downed between two buildings barely helping her.

“Ems?” Blake asked, seeing how her steps had slowed.

“The jet lag just hit in full force. Ugh.”

“C’mon.” He went to put an arm around her shoulders but Dan got there first, slipping his arm around their waist as the four of them walked out. She was aware of the camera flashes going off but she didn’t care. It was hard enough to keep one foot going in front of the other. Once they were in the car she could hear the debate about where she was staying begin but she stayed out of it.

To her complete surprise it was Dan who won that debate. When he insisted Em should stay in his room because “it has two beds, it means nobody’s sharing a bed”, she thought he was joking. It was clearly an excuse made up for Michael and Blake to believe, but it worked because neither of them said anything about how bad an excuse it was. Friends could share rooms, it was more than fine. Just another little white lie that wouldn’t hurt anyone except Em every time she had to hear the word “friend” while Dan argued.

She pushed all that to one side as she walked down the long hallway of the hotel on their floor, Dan by her side. He had her backpack in one hand, his other one clasping hers tightly. She wasn’t letting herself overthink this. She wasn’t going to put words to her feelings because that was a dangerous road to go down. All she wanted was to lie in bed with Daniel, his arms around her and his lips pushing kisses to her forehead. Once that happened she’d be able to get a good nights sleep. It’d be even better if there were no clothes involved.

At least one part of her dream came true nearly immediately. As soon as the door was closed and the lock was flipped closed, Dan pulled her into a kiss. Their shirts were quickly removed, Dan pulling their bodies together with just her bra in between.

“So this room has two beds, huh? You always take the one by the window, want me to take the other one?” Emma joked, biting her lower lip in an attempt to hide the moan that she knew would leave her lips soon. Dan began pressing a series of kisses along her bare shoulder, reaching up the column of her neck and finishing at her earlobe as he began to speak.

“Nope. It was just a lame excuse to get you in my room. You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sleep all the way over there,” he whispered in her ear, the shivers going all the way down her body from his lips barely touching her. It was the usual effect of his skin on hers. It happened every single time they were together, but after weeks apart it was always more intense.

“It’s not that far!”

“Too far for me.”

“But it looks comfy?” Em giggled while Dan lifted her and threw her onto the bed, crawling over her until his face was right in front of hers. She stared into his eyes as something in the air changed, Dan leaning down to kiss her. It was so soft it felt like either of them could break at any second, but when they separated he pulled her tightly to him. She knew this Dan. The one who was afraid she would disappear into thin air at any second. It wasn’t hard for her to realise he was still having a hard time comprehending she was right there in his arms.

“I’m real. I promise, Danny, I’m actually here. I’m not going anywhere, Baby,” she whispered, running her fingers through his messy curls and up and down the soft skin on his back. She’d do this all night if he needed the reminder that she was right there with him.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do. I came all the way to China just to see you so you’re stuck with me. At least for the weekend.”

“More like the whole month. We can make arrangements for the whole year, you can come with us.” It was half pleading and part of her was screaming to say yes even though she knew it was impossible.

“Danny, Baby, you know we can’t. We both have to work, there’s enough going on. But I’m right here for this one, and all the European ones too. Plus you and me in Austin again. Ok?”

“Fine.”

After they ordered and ate their meals they spent the evening curled up in bed with Criminal Minds playing lowly on the tv. It was soft kisses and Em’s fingers running through his hair to make sure he was relaxed. Dan fell asleep holding on to her and Em smiled, more than content to sit there in the quiet.

She didn’t really sleep that night. She never did, really. Not the night before a race she was attending. She was always nervous and pent up, and this night was worse because of how she’d gotten there. Usually she’d be able to relax the week before and get extra sleep, but her change of plans meant she was running on near empty. But she dozed in Dan’s arms as he slept peacefully, and his sleep was the most important to her.

The next morning they woke up to a knock on the door and “Mr Ricciardo, your requests have arrived!”. It was time to get up anyway, their usual making out before getting up replaced with the start of a race day. Michael arrived with Dan’s breakfast - and a chicken and cheese omelette for Em that she yelled a thanks for - before leaving them to eat. As she took a forkful Dan handed over the bag from the hotel to her, watching as she pulled out the contents. Inside were three pairs of jeans, each looking like they’d fit her perfectly. Black skinny jeans, navy skinny jeans, and a pair of lighter blue slightly wider legged ones.

“Danny…”

“You got on a fucking plane to see me because I asked. You left everything behind to do this. The very least I can do is get you some fucking clothes when you didn’t even stop to pack for me.”

“I was going to find somewhere to get something.” She looked at the labels, spotting the brand. “You’re not even sponsored by Pepe anymore. What the fuck, Dan?”

“I know people. I know your sizes, and I know exactly how your waist and ass feel, denim or not. It was easy for me to get them and you need them, right? Please, Emmy. Just accept a present for once?”

“Fine.” She leaned against him before reaching up to kiss him in thanks. It still didn’t feel quite real to her, that her best friend and the guy who she slept with regularly would just do this for her.

They made their way to the circuit in a car together, passes around necks and Dan and Michael in their full black and yellow ensembles. They reminded her of bees, and she made Blake giggle by whispering it to them as they walked behind the others.

“Please say that to Cyril later.”

“Sure.”

Dan and Michael had to disappear for meetings and race planning so Em sat across from Blake in hospitality, pulling out her iPad to get an hour or two of work in. A couple of clients had sent things while she was in the air and at the circuit, so she got to work transcribing what she could when the noise wasn’t too bad or editing the templates they’d sent.

“Nico, hey.” She lifted her head from the screen to see Dan’s teammate sit beside them, the blond man taking the seat next to her.

“Em, right? Dan’s…friend?” His tone was strange but she ignored it, closing her email to actually talk to him and be friendly.

“Yeah, we’re friends. We met through Blake actually. Sorry I didn’t say hi to you yesterday, it was busy. I’m sorry about Bahrain, it was tough on the team.”

“Thanks. You’re only here for qualifying and the race?”

“Yeah.” She smiled apologetically, gesturing to the tablet in front of her. “I had to work until my flight out, have to do some while I’m here too. But it’s worth it to see the race and cheer Dan and you on.”

“Oh,” The word seemed filled with more than two letters could hold. She knew why she was there, she knew Dan wanted her to be there. She could ignore his teammate and be polite when she needed to be. It was fine.

“Ems, formation lap and the race are starting soon. Want to head in the garage?” Blake stood and pushed his chair in.

“Perfect.” She smiled at Nico as she stood, Blake escorting her into the garage as they showed their passes. “What was that for?”

“No idea. Ignore him, that’s what I do.” She laughed and made her way to Dan’s drivers room as Michael was leaving.

“He’s got a minute.”

When she knocked and entered Dan had his headphones on, bouncing to a song, but as soon as he saw her they moved to around his neck.

“Having fun?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, I am.” Em grinned, pulling him into a hug. “Drive fast, be safe, and I’ll see you at the checkered flag.” She pushed a kiss to his cheek for good luck, Dan pulling her into a proper kiss for the briefest of moments.

“I haven’t seen it yet this season.”

“You called me your lucky charm, remember?” His fingers traced over the planchette tattoo on her inner arm, tapping twice at the yes symbol.

“I remember. Gonna make it there just for you.” He kissed her forehead and Em left the room, Dan a few paces behind her.

Watching the race was torturous. The garage was always so loud, the earplugs she wore under the headphones not helping much to dull the noise. She hated the way people’s attention was on her, the tv cameras finding her once or twice during parts of the race with less overtaking. Em hated how her name appeared on screen with “Daniel Ricciardo’s friend”. Netflix had called her that on Drive to Survive for the three seconds she’d been on it, so people had run with it. Now her instagram was public knowledge and people left comments on her posts about watching races she was at. It was so weird to have people invested in her, but it was becoming normal. Ish.

She held her breath for what felt like the entire final lap even though she knew she didn’t really need to. Dan had built up a gap to Checo and watching him come in with those sweet six points in his pocket was beautiful. The entire garage was cheering, Blake’s arm around her shoulders. Even Nico’s mechanics joined in, although their driver was understandably frustrated from his retirement. Em celebrated along, watching as Dan was swept up in delight.

It felt as sweet as Monaco, proof that two retirements didn’t matter because he’d done it. He’d gotten Renault on the constructors board and those points were his, from a car that arguably shouldn’t have held off the rest of the midfield for so long. Because that was her Dan and he was a talented driver. She watched everyone congratulate him, Dan searching her out to give her a hug.

“Best good luck charm ever.”

“I did try!”

Em kept an eye as he left the garage to go for interviews with a grin on his face. He’d led the midfield for the entire race and didn’t let anyone past him. He’d kept his cool and she got to see him be so happy. What else could she really want?

They spent that night at a restaurant trading bites of food, the four of them relaxed and enjoying it. The original plan had been for Michael and Blake to head back to England on Monday morning, and Dan to go to LA where Em would meet him. Now he was staying in China for a few extra days with her. Until when, she wasn’t sure, it depended on whatever madcap route she could get to go home. Her credit card was about to take a beating, even with the LA flight refund arriving in her bank account.

The next morning Em woke before Dan, pulling out her iPad and siting at the desk to try work out flights. He startled her by putting his hand on her shoulder, leaning over before sitting down in the other chair.

“What’re you doing?”

“Trying to work out what flight I’m booking to get home? There’s a bunch of random budget airlines I can try, but the idea of being lost in Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan is a little worrying.”

“Why Kyrgyzstan or Uzbekistan?” He butchered the pronunciation and she smiled, bringing up her travel app to show the route she’d built.

“I can get from Shanghai to X’ian, and then X’ian to Bishkek. After that it’s kind of a crapshoot to get home depending on if I go through Russia or not, but I think I can go from Bishkek to Istanbul and then do Ryanair flights from Istanbul to Milan, and Milan to London. It’s just over two days of travelling, but I can make it work and I’ll be home by Saturday.”

“But we’re going to Coachella this weekend?”

“I can’t, Danny.” The way he was looking at her killed her inside and made her want to cry but she had to keep it together. “I’ll pay you back for the ticket if you can’t sell it, but I can’t make it.”

“Why not? I’ll book your flight from here to LA now. We’ve got our tickets, you’re staying with me. Yeah you’re not using the flight out but you’ve got the flight home. Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t afford it.” The words hurt to admit, Em letting her hair cover part of her face. “I booked a last minute flight to China, Danny. I had to make a choice so I cancelled my flights for LA. I’m just going home. Not all of us get paid the big bucks. It’s fine, I’ll see you when you get home.”

Money was always the thing that had been an unspoken potential disagreement with them. She’d argued with him time and time again about all the things he paid for when they were together, the presents he bought. The way he’d paid for their flights to Australia for Christmas and wouldn’t let her contribute. The constant arguments about him wanting to pay for her birth control. She hated admitting she couldn’t afford something. His eyes hardened for just a moment before pulling her over to him for a hug.

“Emmy. Never feel like you have to do this again. I’m so, so fucking glad you’re here. I’m so glad that that you came, but if it means you worry about money then don’t do it. And I’m paying for your flight to LA.”

“My outfits and everything are at home.”

“I’ll get you new ones.” He pressed a kiss to her to make her smile.

“The flights?”

“I’m booking you on my flight and you’re coming. And on my flight home.” Another kiss with another disagreement.”

“I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“I own a fucking house there and you’re using somewhere to stay as an excuse? Seriously?” She smiled and reached to kiss him, staring right into his eyes.

“Dan…”

“I want you to come.”

“Danny. I just…”

“Emmy. If you really, really don’t want to go then that’s fine. I’ll book you a flight straight back to London, a direct one, and you can head home. But if this is because of your pride or you think you don’t deserve it or you don’t want me to spend money on you then I have some bad news for you Baby Girl. You’re worth every single penny I spend on us. That’s why I get paid way too much money so I can spoil us like this.”

“I don’t want to be a burden. You pay for everything. I don’t. I’m not your friend because of money or your job or any of that. I never want that to be a factor between us.”

“It’s not one.” He stood, lifting her easily and moving them to the bed with her perched on his lap. “Em I get paid way too much. Plus there’s sponsor deals and everything else and I’m lucky enough that I don’t need to worry about money. You are so important to me. So I’m paying for this flight and I’m sending the money for your flight out here because it’s my fault you’re here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I don’t want you spending two days travelling when we can go together. Ok?”

“Ok.” He pushed kisses to her face, Em grinning as his hands slipped under her shirt. “Having fun there?”

“I have a beautiful woman on my lap, I’m only human. Plus, we didn’t exactly get to enjoy ourselves last night.” He caught her lips with his, her shirt pulled off and Dan immediately moving to cup her boobs. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Her lips immediately went along his jaw, Dan’s hands pushing their underwear down. He lifted Em up slightly to push her panties off, a rip heard through the room. “Please tell me you didn’t rip-“

“I’ll get you a new set. Promise.”

His fingers were immediately playing at her clit, rubbing soft circles as he teased her. Em gasped, desperate for him to push at least one finger in but he held off.

“Gonna be at Coachella with me, Emmy? Gonna spend a week with you and me and the sun? I can’t wait to be there with you and dance with you, get to see you in your sparkly brilliance. You never even realise how good you look, do you?” 

“Danny please. Don’t tease me.” All she wanted was to grind down on him, desperate for friction and movement. He set her body on fire so easily, Em holding onto his shoulders as she moved without realising.

“But it’s so fun. It’s more fun when I do this though.” Without warning he began fucking her with his fingers, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Dan had learned every single way to get her off in the last year and this was a sure fire way. Two fingers twisting and hitting the perfect spot inside her, his thumb or tongue on her clit depending on the position they were in. Her quiet moans got slightly louder, Dan’s kisses on her neck encouraging them. He loved hearing every sound she made, the ones she’d forced herself to be quiet about for too long.

“Right there Emmy. I’m not going to fuck you until I get to feel you cum at least once. Right there such a good girl for me, aren’t you? So pretty like this. Just let go, Baby. Let me feel you, let me hear you.”

Between the words and the sensations Em came with a low groan, her lips pressed to Dan’s shoulder as she shook with desperation. He fucked her through her orgasm, continuing to murmur in her ear as she came back.

“Thank you,” she murmured, Dan kissing her.

“You never need to thank me, Baby Girl. I’ve got you.” He pulled his fingers away and Em licked at them to clean them, watching his face light up before he pulled her for a filthy kiss. It was Dan and her and she’d never thought anyone would want to kiss her when she tasted of herself but he could never get enough of that. She moved slightly, feeling Dan line himself up and slide into her as she sat down to take him fully.

That was the sensation she loved. The slight stretch, the way he felt so perfect in her. The gasp he let out every single time. Usually like this they’d take an age to just be close, but instead she knew it wouldn’t be as slow as normal. His lips were against her shoulder, sucking a mark she knew would last. She should argue, but it was too good. Until she rolled her hips and they both began to move.

It was soft kisses and touches, Dan making sure she was well on her way to a second orgasm and taking pride in it. She was holding it back barely, determined to keep things lasting, when the worst thing that could happen did.

The door to the hotel room opened and she heard Michael begin to speak as he walked in.

“Mate do you not check your phone in the morning? I thought we were I DID NOT NEED TO SEE THIS!”

“Get out!” Dan yelled, pulling a sheet around them. His hands had been covering her boobs, playing with them at the exact right moment. Em pushed her face into his neck, hiding herself away.

“Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck?! USE THE DAMN DO NOT DISTURB YOU ASSHOLE!” The door slammed shut and Em stayed still, holding onto Dan. This was her worst case scenario. They’d been so careful to keep this hidden, to make sure the boys didn’t know that they were sleeping together. And in one moment they knew.

“You ok?” Dan whispered to her, his hands running up and down her back.

“Mortified? That was pretty much the thing I didn’t want to happen.”

“It’s gonna be fine. They won’t say anything, I promise. I won’t let them.”

She kissed Dan harshly, pulling his face to hers. Of course he was making sure she was ok. He always did that for Em. His hips thrust up and she laughed, moving back against him.

“Not even getting walked in on is stopping us, is it?” She giggled, Dan laughing back at her while pressing kisses to her cheeks. He turned them over, Em on her back as he made sure to get her back to that second orgasm before he came, the two of them holding each other before going to the bathroom to clean up.

When they came down for breakfast Michael was quiet and didn’t say a word. Things didn’t feel different between them, and it was hugs goodbye to him and Blake as they left for the airport to go back to London. She and Dan were spending two days in Shanghai before flying to LA on Wednesday, and they were going to take advantage of every minute.

They held hands while walking around the streets, Dan letting Em choose their plans. She brought them on a boat trip down the Huangpu river so they could see the city from the water, a selfie of her and Dan one of her favourite photos. They went to the Shanghai Museum so she could see the art from centuries before. Dan watched her watching it, smiling at her excitement. It was a whistle stop tour and she could have spent even more time there, but instead it was curling up in bed at night, sex alone without the worry of anyone walking in on them. Dan had to do some phone interviews but they were simple and she worked while he did. Their last day in Shanghai was a late one, their flight not until nine that night. But instead of worrying about how long it would take they relaxed and wandered the city again.

Em brought him up the Oriental Pearl so they could get photos of the entire city. People ignored them, just looking like any other Western tourists. It was different to being in Perth or parts of Europe where he was recognised immediately, even if people in Perth left him alone with a nod of recognition.

Instead it was to the airport, checking in with her clothes in Dan’s case. They settled in the lounge as Em people watched and they ate dinner, preparing to nap for a little while at the start of the twelve hour flight. 

“You know before I met you I’d never travelled anything except economy?” Em said, taking a sip of the Coke Zero in front of her.

“You deserve it. It’s a long flight, we don’t get into LA till like six. I’d rather we can be comfy before getting to the house and relaxing.”

“Yeah, but still. Just weird. I feel like I’m being spoilt here.”

“And you deserve all of it.” 

Sitting into the plane and being greeted by name Em just smiled, watching as Dan sat in the pod beside her. How could she want anything else?

Taglist: @dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav

[libraryofloveletters]

Memories Hold Me Hostage

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: break ups, lots of pining, little bit of jealously, lots of flashbacks, mentions of alcohol and the consumption of, being drunk, heartbreak all around, mopey Daniel for the win tbh 

Word Count: 5.0k

Author’s Note: If your name is Alyssa, sorry ?? just pick a different name LMAO // the current parts take place between the Australian 2022 GP to the Imola GP 2022 // inspired by Glimpse Of Us by Joji 

***flashbacks in italics and dated!!!***

Part Two: Nothing Ever Changes 

---- 

Sunday the 10th, Australia, 2022. 

The hair colour caught his eye - that can’t be right, his eyes were deceiving him. 

She quit her job. She moved. She ran away from everything that reminded her of him. 

And yet, she stood down the pit line from him, a green t-shirt clinging to her body and the camera hung around her neck, a smile reaching from one ear to the other as a giggle slipped past her lips. 

The love of Daniel’s life was all but a few feet away and he couldn’t bring himself to move. 

You wanted nothing to do with him. 

You avoided Daniel like the plague, keeping him at a hundred mile distance as often as possible. You weren't even supposed to be here. 

Moving to London was the best decision you could have made after the two of you broke up and now you stood in front of the Aston Martin garage in your green shirt and your camera around your neck. 

Sebastian had begged you to take the job, claiming that no one else did it like you did. 

The need for a job wasn't what brought you back to Melbourne.

He was - the man who you knew was standing all but 50 feet away from you. His laugh carried across the noisy pit line, hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

“You alright ?” Sebastian called, pulling you back to reality. 

“Let’s get some of you and Lance, yeah?” You followed the man into the garage, watching as he and Lance situate themselves in front of the car, one on each wheel. 

Your heart pangs in your chest, reminding you of all those years ago. 

Australia, 2014. 

“Would you two quit that?!” You shout at the two of them. Daniel chased Sebastian through the garage with a screwdriver and Sebastian was hiding behind you and you were now stuck between the two drivers. 

“Move please.” Daniel smiled at you, hoping you’d listen. 

“We have 30 minutes before the press conference. I’d like to get some half decent pictures of you,” you take the screwdriver from him, handing it off to a mechanic, “so please, for the love of god, would you listen to me?” 

“I’ll behave if you give me a kiss,” the Aussie smiles, puckering his lips. 

You glance around the busy garage, no one in particular paying any attention to the two of you. You lean forward, giving him a peck on the lips before pushing him towards the car. 

Sebastian taps your shoulder, making you turn. “Do I get a kiss too?” he teased, puckering up his own lips. 

You laughed, Sebastian loved to tease the two of you seeing that he was the only one that knew you and Daniel were dating. 

“Of course baby, c’mere.” You lean towards Seb and he leans in too, you move your head and press a kiss to his cheek. He chuckles, walking over to the car before leaning back into one of the wheels. 

“Jealous Danny?” Seb looked over at his teammate and Daniel shrugged. 

“No, because I know who she’s coming home with later tonight.” He winks at you.

“Gross.” You say, holding up the camera as they smiled. 

“Lance, smile, would you?” You call out to the younger man who gives you a fake grin to please you. 

After a few photos of the drivers in green, Seb comes over to see a few that you had taken. “I promise, he’s not always so grumpy. He’s got a hangover.” He says, leaning over your shoulder to see the pictures on the screen. 

“Working with you now is so different,” you click through the pictures, “nothing like when you and Dan-” you stop yourself and Seb senses the change in tone, giving your arm a squeeze. 

“I know but if you can’t do this-” “No, no. I’m fine Seb, I promise.” 

“Whatever you say, y/n. Are you heading out now?” He asks and you nod. 

“I’ll give you a ride, come on.” Sebastian says, linking his arm with yours as he pulls you down the paddock with him, headed in the direction of the parking lot. 

Daniel’s eyes caught you as you passed by, the same smile on your face but worn out and tired; it hurts his heart to see you like that. 

Alyssa nudged Daniel, “what are you staring at ?” His girlfriend asked him and he shook his head. 

“I’m not staring, babe.” He tells her, the nickname sounds foreign on his tongue.

Daniel was done for the day, he and Alyssa would be heading back to his place for the night. The perks of racing in Australia was that he could sleep in his own bed until he had to leave again. The current downside of being home is that the fact that Alyssa’s stuff is everywhere. She was in the process of moving into his place and she hasn't fully unpacked yet. So when they got in, he offered to move some boxes out of the closet to make space for her things. 

It’s been almost 2 years since you two broke up and he started seeing Alyssa some time after you moved to London. Maybe, 7 or 8 months after you left. 

He hasn't changed much since you left; all of the decor you had picked out was still there, the way you organized things and left them was exactly how it was. The only thing that was different was the fact that there aren't any photos of you or the two of you together. In all honesty, Daniel left the photo of the two of you above his bed there for a year after you two broke up. It wasn't until he was sure that Alyssa was coming over for the first time that he took it down. 

The boxes in the closet get pulled out one by one, stacked in the corner of his room before he can move them downstairs into the basement. He finds one that’s got your handwriting scribbled across it. 

Albums, 2014 - 2020. 

Daniel unfolded the flaps and peeked into it. This wasn't his stuff. He didn't keep photo albums. It had to be yours that you forgot or left. There's at least 6 albums in the box, all different colours and different things stuck on the front of them. The binds of the albums have the years on them, ranging from 2014-2020 and Daniel pulls out the first one marked for 2014. 

The album was thick, the blue cover slightly faded from its time in the box and the red writing on the front read; Daniel Riccardo and Y/n L/n- Red Bull Racing: 2014-2018. 

He goes through the photos, the album broken down into 2 sections. The first half of it were travel photos; Daniel at the airport, you two smiling with whipped cream moustaches. The two of you had a tradition where you’d have hot chocolate with whipped cream before every flight hence the moustaches. The next half of the pages were pictures from when you two went touring through the cities you stopped in or pictures from dinners and dates you went on. 

There’s another album but it’s only got his name and the same years jotted down on the front. The blue cover faded like the other but this has got a red bull insignia drawn on the bottom left corner. 

Daniel fingers brush over the drawing, his heart sinking a little more. 

Opening the album, he finds photos of the crew and his car, your handwriting on the pages, naming every single person in each of the photos. That was the thing about you, you knew everyone in that garage and you treated them all like family. Alyssa probably didn’t even know his engineer's name. 

The first few pages go through his years at Red Bull; the crew, him and Seb, his cars, the change in partners to him and Max. There’s a few of them goofing off, getting ready for their races or just him in his car. There were so many shots of him in his car or him talking to the crew or getting ready in the album that he didn’t even know you took. 

He was your muse; you loved to photograph Daniel. He was gorgeous and he looked even better candid. 

The following section was of his podiums; 29 podiums and 5 first places. All of the labels from the champagne bottles stuck on the pages along with a photo to accompany them. There’s even a photo of you peeling a label off of the bottle and another one besides that of the two of you, your lips on his cheek that he remembers taking. 

The handwriting under the picture reads; an artist at work, photographed by DR3. 

His heart clenches at the memory, pulling him back to his win in Monaco. 

Monaco, 2018. 

You sat on the floor of his driver’s room, the bottle of champagne tucked between your thighs and your bottom lip pulled between your teeth in concentration. You were picking at the label glued to the bottle. 

“Hey! Why’re you ruining my bottle?” Daniel asks, shutting the door to the room. 

You rolled your eyes, you knew the bottle would be tossed by the end of the night and that he wouldn’t even blink an eye. “I need it for something.” You tell the driver, carefully lifting the edge you picked at. 

Daniel’s brows furrowed, not bothering to ask more questions. He unzips his race suit, pulling it down to his waist before noticing your camera on the table. He wipes his hands dry knowing you’d kill him for getting it all sticky with champagne. Daniel picks up the camera and waves his hand in front of your face, catching your attention. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask him. 

Daniel holds up the camera, “smile!” he grins at you, his smile infectious enough to get you smiling. You even hold the bottle up for him, making him laugh. 

The driver takes a seat on the floor next to you, one of his arms slung over your shoulder as he pulls you into his side. Daniel turns the camera so the lens is facing you. You lean into Daniel, kissing his cheek when the camera flashes. 

“What’s that?” Alyssa’s voice startled him. He shuts the album and puts it back into the box. 

“Just some old books.” He lies, “need help bringing your stuff up?” 

“Yeah, just the boxes downstairs. Thanks.” She smiles at him as he walks out the room. Something urges her to check what the books were because the smile on his face told her otherwise. Alyssa flips through the books, finding out that they were photo albums from his time at Red Bull. Photos of him and a woman in a lot of them. 

Daniel comes upstairs, setting a box down to find Alyssa with her back turned and an album in her hands. “Who’s this?” She turns the album to face him, pointing you out from photos. 

“An old friend. She used to work at Red Bull with us.” It wasn't a lie, you did work at Red Bull. 

Alyssa shuts the album, setting it into the box again. “Okay.” 

Daniel’s glad she doesn’t press him on it but he makes a mental note to put the boxes in the basement.  

---- 

Monday the 11th, Australia, 2022. 

The house was quiet and the bed empty when he woke up. There’s a smell lingering in the air and the bedroom door was cracked open, the faint sound of humming pulling him out of the bed to find the source. 

After brushing his teeth, the humming coming from the kitchen caused him to shuffle his way down the stairs to find Alyssa in there. Her back turned to him while she hummed along to the music. There’s a black t-shirt hanging off her body, yellow along one of the sleeves and white writing covering the fabric.  

He recognized it.

One of his Renault shirts. 

His heart pulls at the sight. “Good morning.” he says softly, not wanting to startle her. 

She turns to face him with a smile, “hey you, how’d you sleep?” she asks him, pouring some coffee into a mug. Daniel shrugs, mumbling an answer as he watches her add cream and sugar to the mug. 

“Thanks,” he smiles when she slides the mug over the counter to him. 

Daniel was sitting on the stool by the kitchen island, his girlfriend making breakfast for the two of them but his mind was anywhere but there. 

Australia, 2019

Humming woke him up. That, and the faint smell of something burning. Daniel didn’t even bother to check if you were in bed, jumping up and running down to the kitchen. 

Imagine his relief when he sees you in the kitchen. “What happened?” He asks, letting out a breath. 

“Oh good morning to you too,” you roll your eyes playfully, walking to the backdoor with a plate. Daniel walks over to the stool, sitting on it before turning his attention to you. 

The backdoor from the kitchen led onto the patio which went into the backyard of his house. You were crouched down, breaking pieces of burnt toast and tossing it into the yard. 

Daniel’s brows furrowed, you were always up to something. 

It's like you could read his mind when you walked back in, shutting the door behind you. “The toast was burnt and I didn’t wanna throw it out. So I figured the birds would make use of it; don’t worry I ripped it into small enough pieces that they won’t choke.” 

“How gracious of you, Mother Nature.” he smiles, propping his chin on the palm of his hand. 

You flip him off with a smile, setting the plate in the sink before putting two new pieces of bread into the toaster. “Is that my shirt ?” he asks, noticing the yellow and black t-shirt you had on. 

“Is there a 3 on the back ?” you ask, pouring coffee into a mug. 

He nods when you hand the mug over to him, “then it's yours.” You turn your attention back to the eggs that were sitting on the counter, cracking them into a bowl before whisking them. 

Sure, being a Formula One driver is exciting and winning a Grand Prix is even better but this? Nothing beat this if you asked him. Daniel loved mornings like this; domestic and wholesome. 

He could stay in this moment forever. 

He often wondered how Sebastian did it. Daniel used to tease him when he gushed about what an amazing woman Hanna is, which she was, but Daniel could have never imagined feeling that way about someone. 

Then you walked into the paddock and it was game over. The first day he saw you, he threw that mentality out the window. 

Now you were standing in the kitchen of your place together, cooking breakfast for the two of you while wearing his clothes. It didn’t get better than this. 

He got up, walking over to you while you shuffled the eggs around in the pan. Daniel hugged you from behind, holding you close to him while he slid his cold hands under your shirt. 

“Dan!” You squealed, pushing him away. He laughed, the grin on his face warming your heart. 

He resumes his previous position, hugging you from behind but his hands over your shirt this time. Daniel rests his chin on your shoulder before kissing your cheek. 

The memory of the two of you makes him chuckle. Reminders of you lingered everywhere; his memories, his house, his heart. 

Everything comes back to you. 

“Are you okay?” Alyssa’s voice brings him back to reality. 

Daniel blinks a few times, shaking the thought of you away from his mind. “Yeah, why?” 

“You started chuckling by yourself out of nowhere.” She has a confused look on her face, unsure as to what’s so funny. 

“Just remembered a dream.” 

Please don’t ask. 

“What about?” The words leave her mouth. 

Shit. 

“Oh uh.. Max tripped over a rock and then Lando was laughing at him only for him to trip over the same rock.” he fibbed, the first random thought coming to his head. 

Please fall for it. 

“Huh, funny.” She gives him a small smile before turning her attention to the pancakes. 

Hook, line and sinker. 

----

Wednesday the 13th, Australia, 2022. 

Daniel’s downstairs, searching for his car keys. Alyssa was getting ready and should be coming down any minute. The two of them are heading out for dinner for their anniversary. 

“Have you seen my keys?!” He shouts from the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah! I’ll bring them down!” She shouts back to him. 

Daniel’s walking around, switching off the unused lights, unplugging the kettle and the toaster; habits which he picked up from you. 

He’s by the door, his back facing the staircase as he checks the time on his watch. He can hear the heels clicking on the wooden stairs and he glances in the direction of the noise. 

Daniel thought he was losing his mind, blinking a few times before looking back over. The blue dress and the curled hair, the car keys hung on her fingers as she carefully made her way down the stairs. 

It’s just some freaky coincidence. 

Spain, 2019. 

Somehow Daniel had convinced you to actually do something for your anniversary that year. You had flown to Spain a few days before the race so you'd have time to relax and unwind before everyone else arrived. 

He had gone as far as renting a place for the week so you two would have the time and space away from everyone. 

“You forgot the keys, Dan.” You call out to your boyfriend, the keyring hanging off your finger as you walk down the stairs. 

Daniel turns to face you, a smile on his face when he sees you. “Blue’s always been your colour.” He says, admiring the blue dress you had on. Your hair was curled and your heels in your other hand as you walk over to him. 

“I know.” you smile, giving him a kiss. 

Daniel takes the car keys from you when you return to the stairs, sitting on the step to put your heels on. His hand is stretched out to you to help you up and when you stand, he grins. 

“Woah.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh. 

“Woah, yourself.” You laughed. 

Daniel pats his chest and his thighs, searching for his phone. “Okay, don’t move.” He holds his phone up, taking a photo of you. You even strike a pose for him, blowing him a kiss. 

He makes a mental note to change the lock screen of his phone. 

You make your way over to him, straightening his tie. “You never quite got the concept of fixing your tie, hm?” You brush down his torso, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

Daniel shrugs, leaning in to kiss you. You smile against his lips before pulling away. He’s about to walk down the door when you grab his hand, pulling him back to you. 

“What would the paparazzi say if they saw you with lipstick all over you?” You tease, brushing your thumb over his lips to wipe away the red. 

“That I love my girlfriend.” he smiles, kissing you once again. 

“You look beautiful.” He smiles at Alyssa. “Thank you, you look nice too.” She hands the car keys over to him before picking up her purse. 

“Your tie is crooked.” She calls to him and he lifts his chin for her to fix it but she walks off instead, out the door and towards the driveway. Daniel looks at the woman outside before glancing in the mirror to straighten his tie, brushing a hand over the wrinkles on his shirt. 

Everyday he finds you in her and then, it disappears. 

She’s not you. 

She’ll never be you. 

He needed to stop looking for you in her. 

You’ve moved on and so has he. 

---- 

Saturday the 16th, Australia, 2022. 

Micheal pounds on the front door with one hand, the other holding onto a very drunk Daniel. It’s half past one in the morning and Alyssa is grumbling to herself about why Daniel is knocking and not opening the door. 

“Where are your keys- oh my god.” She stops, looking at Daniel who's clinging onto Micheal for dear life. 

Michael gives her a sympathetic smile before he helps Daniel to the couch. 

“What happened ?” she crouches in front of Daniel, looking over at Micheal. “He had a little too much to drink, I didn’t think letting him come home by himself in an Uber was smart.” He tells her.  

She nods, “no of course. Thank you Micheal.” 

Daniel blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to the light Alyssa had switched on. “Baby,” he reaches out, his hand brushing her cheek. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He whispers and the room goes silent. 

You could hear a pin, no, a feather drop how quiet it was. 

“It’s Alyssa.” She looks at the man on the couch, her hand resting on his. 

Daniel’s brows furrow, “no, no.” He shakes his head, sitting up a little too quick. The room starts to spin and he closes his eyes, leaning back into the couch cushions. Micheal walks towards the couch, not wanting to overstep but he wants to remind Daniel that you aren't there. 

“Dan, mate. Y/n’s not here.” he says to the driver, Daniel’s confused now. 

“Well where is she?” he asks, eyes still closed. “It's lat- it’s dark outside. She’s supposed to be home.” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. 

Micheal can see how confused Alyssa was but also how flustered Daniel was. Alyssa looks between Daniel and Micheal, turning to Micheal for an answer. 

“Who’s y/n?” her voice breaks the silence. 

Daniel’s still pouting, “where’s y/n? I want y/n.” he looks at Micheal. “Where is she? Did she forget to tell me she was going out?” Daniel asks his friend. 

Drunk minds speak sober words and Daniel had been missing you a lot, even more so since seeing you at the paddock. 

Alyssa tries once more to get Daniel to come with her, “let’s get you changed okay? I’ll get you some water.” She’s holding his hand, going to help him up when he pulls his hand away. 

“Where is y/n?” he asks for what feels like the millionth time. 

Micheal nudges Alyssa, signalling for her to follow him to the kitchen and she does. “Okay listen, he's not gonna shut up until he sees her, so if it's okay with you and to avoid more of a tantrum, I’m gonna call her.” 

Alyssa hesitates, “is this really the best plan ? He’s drunk, he’ll sleep it off.” 

“Trust me, he won’t.” 

Alyssa might not have noticed the way Daniel looked at you when he saw you at the paddock but Micheal did. He knows even though it was Daniel who ended things between you, Daniel regretted it from that very moment. 

---

The phone rings. It’s quarter to 2 in the morning and no one calling at this time ever had good news. 

Micheal’s name flashes across the screen and your heart stops. He hadn't called you in almost 2 years. Why is he calling on a random Saturday at 2 in the morning. 

You pick up. “Hello?” 

“Y/n? Oh good, you have the same number. Can you swing by Daniel’s ? He’s asking for you.” Micheal rambles out in one breath. 

“Daniel’s.. asking for me? Is he okay?” you’re already out of bed, pulling on your sweater and searching for your car keys. 

“Yeah no, I guess? I don’t know. He said he wants you here, just please.. hurry up.” He says before hanging up. 

The route to Daniel’s place engraved in your mind, you were there in 10 minutes tops. You knock on the door and when no one answers, you dig through the bunch of keys you had to find the one for his place. Just as you were about to slide it into the lock, someone opens the door. 

“Hi,” the woman says, looking at you. You looked a mess to say the least. Your hair tossed into something resembling a ponytail, a bright green Aston Martin sweater and some shorts. 

“Hi. I uh- Micheal called me.” you explain, unsure if you were at the right place. You peeked behind her to see the big photo of Daniel and his cars on the wall. The same photo you took. 

“Oh.” She looks you up and down. “You must be y/n.” 

“I am.” 

“Y/n!” You see Micheal appear from the kitchen. “Come in, he’s on the couch.” Micheal walks into the living room and you glance at the woman in the doorway, before she steps aside and lets you in. 

Alyssa’s all but a few steps behind you, her eyes burning into you when you crouch in front of the couch. She recognized you from somewhere, her mind trying to figure it out. 

The woman in the photo album. 

Why was Daniel asking for you? You don’t ask for an old friend when you’re drunk unless you were- you were his ex-girlfriend. 

Daniel’s half asleep, his curls flattened to his forehead and his eyes are closed. You brush his curls back and pat his cheek, your knuckles rubbed against his cheekbone and he leans into your touch. 

There’s a slight smile on his face and he nuzzles into your hand. Even after so much time apart, he knows your touch instantly; it's warm and loving unlike Alyssa’s. 

“You’re home.” He whispers, the words hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

You hum, “I’m here.”

You can’t bring yourself to call it home again. 

“Come on,” you pull him up, his arm wrapping around your torso as you slowly walk him away from the couch. “Let’s get you into bed, you need to change.” You tell him, the tension from Alyssa’s end of the room making you want to throw up. 

“Why?” he pouts, one hand on you and the other on the railing. “Because you smell like a brewery.” You pat his back, an arm around him. 

Daniel flops onto the bed and you leave him there for a minute, instantly falling back into your routines. You search for a change of clothes for him, the left side of the dresser was his and right side of it was your- Alyssa’s. 

Pulling the drawer open, you pause. The memories flood back in as you look down at the neatly packed shirts. 

Australia, 2015. 

“You can’t have underwear in the top drawer!” You toss the boxers back at him. 

“Why not? That’s the first thing I put on, it's only logical. Underwear, pants, shirts.” Daniel says, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

You had been rearranging the bedroom all day, your stuff finally finding their place into the drawers after moving in. “It goes shirts, pants and then underwear.” You sit on the floor and open the bottom drawer. 

“You just like it in that order so you can look at my ass when I bend down to get it.” He nods to himself, smiling. 

“Weirdo.” You shook your head, tossing all of his boxers into the drawer. 

Daniel moves to the floor, dropping his head onto your lap. “Hi.” he smiles up at you. 

“Hi Daniel.” 

“You’re pretty.” 

“Thank you, Daniel.”

“Can I have a kiss?” 

“No Daniel, I need to finish packing. Your parents are coming for dinner tomorrow.” 

Daniel pouts, puckering up his lips in hopes that he’ll get lucky. You bite back a smile, hoping he’ll catch the hint and he doesn’t. You lean down and kiss him before turning your attention back to the clothes in the drawer. 

One kiss wasn't enough, he manages to get you on your back before he pins you under him. “Daniel!” you scold him like he was a child; he acted like one sometimes so it wasn't much of a stretch. 

“Y/n!” he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again then back up then down to kiss you once more. 

You realize what he’s doing when you look at his arms; pushups. 

“You’re a dork.” You mumble between kisses. 

You forego the shirt and pull the second drawer open to get some shorts for him. Daniel was laying on his stomach when you rolled him over and pull on his arm to sit him up. It wasn’t hard to get him out of his clothes, wiggling the jeans off and somehow shimmying him back onto the shorts before you unbutton the shirt. 

Tossing a thin sheet over him, you get the trash can from the bathroom and set it on the floor next to the bed in case he needs to puke. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, brushing your fingers through his curls. Your heart can’t help but sink when you face the fact that you have to leave him here and go home. 

Home. 

This was your home. 

Not the house but him. 

Daniel was your home. 

You cup his cheek, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. A simple gesture that said the thousands of words running through your head right now. 

Daniel turns his head, whispering into the palm of your hand. “I love you.” He kisses your hand.    

No. He didn’t say it. 

He’s drunk. 

He doesn’t love you. 

Daniel opens his eyes, looking at you. Big brown eyes staring right at you and you can’t run away now. 

“I love you, y/n.” 

You let out a shaky breath, nodding at him. “Me too.” you whisper, unable to say the words because the minute you do, it's real. 

It’s the same spiral you fall into. 

Loving him until it hurts only for you to get hurt. 

This wasn't love. 

Memories carried love and memories held you hostage. 

---- 

Part Two: Nothing Ever Changes

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[supersonicart]

Abigail Goldman's "Small Improvements."

Currently on view at Beinart Gallery in Melbourne, Australia is artist Abigail Goldman's solo exhibition, "Small Improvements."

"Small Improvements" is the latest collection of sculptures by Abigail Goldman. They are miniature, rendered in 1:87 scale: the figures in each work are just under 2 centimeters tall.

Goldman calls these miniature scenes “dieoramas.” While they initially appear charming, the viewer looking closely soon realizes that the diminutive figures within each dieorama are holding weapons, lying in pools of blood or standing in a kitchen, serving body parts for breakfast. What first appears to be a generic suburban family setting unfolds into a macabre tableau where miniature mayhem reigns.

The dieoramas in Small Improvements are part of Goldman’s ongoing exploration of violence and our deepest selves, which are more depraved than we admit. The pull of violence is everywhere—in breathless TV news coverage of crime, in the movies and shows we consume, and in our primal selves, which are revealed in fleeting moments of daily rage: at the car that cuts us off on the highway, the boss that passes us over for promotion. Increasingly, we are angry and divided. Increasingly, we are unmoved by violence, which has become commonplace and predictable.

Dieoramas are an effort to capture and contain rage, to disarm with the contrast of awful and adorable, and to invite the viewer to assess their own attraction to misery and mayhem. In this way, dieoramas become both cathartic totems and miniature monuments to the id. Goldman finds that for every one person repelled by her dieoramas, there are three who delight in them. The vast majority of us, she believes, are fundamentally dark, and driven ever darker by our modern condition.

THE SUPERSONIC ART SHOP | FOLLOW ON INSTAGRAM

[ms-hells-bells]

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING FOR EXPLICIT DESCRIPTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND ABUSE

My name is Jaime. At 15, I left home due to the abuse going on there and I became a homeless runaway living on the streets of Melbourne, Australia…

Within days I met apparently friendly older men around the age of 20 or so, who offered me a hotel room to stay in if I helped them sell newspapers on the corner. At the time I thought they were being kind. It was soon made very evident that there was an extra price for this roof over my head. There began a steady stream of strangers coming to my room and expecting all kinds of sex from me. It was a tiny room with just a single bed and a bedside table. I was not allowed to leave it for any reason other than to use the bathroom down the hall.

All I can really recall from those days are the smell of bad breath, body odour and fresh cum as the faces and ages of these men all intermingle in my nightmares. I cannot even tell you how long I was trapped in that hotel, as each day and night blurred into the next.

One night I was bundled in a car and driven to a house just outside the CBD. I was instructed to stay with the man at that house. It was made clear to me that I was expected to have sex with him. The fact he spoke English and had a lovely looking home made it seem not so bad compared to where I had been. I lied and gave him a false name and said I was 17, almost 18.

A couple of days later, he drove me back to the city hotel so I could gather the clothes and things I’d left behind. It was empty and I had nothing left to my name but the clothes on my back. So I accepted his offer to stay with him as it seemed like a better option than trying to survive on the streets.

I tried to live a normal life of getting a job at Coles and leaving my past behind. One day, my lies about my age and name caught up with me and I was put back into the government foster care system as a ward of the state. I was put in a home with much older residents and was again raped and abused, so my sense of worth was zero. I felt it was all I deserved.

At 16, I was allowed to move out of the system and back to the “home life” I knew. That is where I really began joining in with the full-on drugs, alcohol and porn/sex trade scene. Surrounded by adults who, for them, it was normal, by 17, I was stripping and nude modelling and quickly became addicted to the money. My face and my body were the only assets I had to sell.

Not long after my 18th birthday I began work for an insurance company. Another attempt at a normal life. I was subjected to sleazy bosses and customers who didn’t want the insurance I was selling. They wanted my mouth, my tits and what was between my legs.

Months went by and suddenly the homicide squad from Sydney NSW were knocking on my door. They were unsure if I was dead or alive as they had photos of me on the same roll of film as a young woman who had gone missing from the streets of St Kilda and was presumed murdered. It turned out she had been kidnapped, drugged, tortured and photographed naked and then killed by a man, who had come to the studio I worked at months earlier.

To this day I’m grateful I said no to his offer of more money to leave the studio to go to the beach with him for further photos – or my story would have ended there. Except as a google search for murdered sex workers in Australia.

Because of my lack of confidence that I could do anything else, I spent months stripping around the pubs and clubs of Melbourne. Private gigs were always the worst as there were more expectations of the acts we were asked to perform. Live sex acts with bucks party men. Lesbian acts were expected, condoms were not. Drugs and alcohol were a standard part of my life.

By 21, I was a single mother struggling to pay my rent. One morning, after dropping my child off at day care where I knew they would care for my child better than I could at the time, I came home in tears and picked up the paper and looked for a job. Every one of them wanted qualifications and an education level I didn’t have.

I then saw an ad for massage girls. Due to my past experiences of nude modelling and stripping, I knew what the ad meant. They were offering an immediate start. So, with my pride pushed aside, I called and arranged to go to a legal brothel in the eastern suburbs of Melbourne.

My idea of legal brothel work was a nice clean place, nice men who would pay good money to have sex with me, and a safe working environment because it was all legal, right? I’d been having sex with men I didn’t like for years so why not get paid for it in a legitimate business?

A friendly lady met me and took me inside and showed me around the nice-looking spa rooms and explained I could earn a lot of money being a fresh face and so pretty. At $80-90 an hour, I thought how hard could it be? I had arrived just before lunch time and was told I could start immediately as they were expecting to be busy.

I quickly learned that there was such a thing as a 15-minute booking for $50 cost to the punter – of which I received $25. There was no nice spa room for that. Instead, I was put in a tiny little room with a huge two-way mirror. My first john was a scrawny elderly man who, as a regular, was given first choice of me being fresh meat. Reeking of garlic, and with very long fingernails, he demanded I get naked and get on my knees to suck his dick. His nails dug into my head as he fucked my face and I tried not to gag at the smell of him. It was over within five minutes and he left me to clean up.

For the next two hours, I was in and out of that room faster than a swinging saloon door as men on their lunch break came in to get their rocks off as fast as they could. Sucking and fucking till I was feeling dizzy and sore. The other girls assured me it was normal for the lunch time rush and I would get used to it in a day or two and don’t forget to use as much lube as I needed.

As I walked out of there with just over a couple of hundred dollars cash, I said I’d be back tomorrow. I had two weeks rent in my pocket and I could feed my child that night. That first week I went home with enough to take my child shopping for winter clothes and shoes. I filled my fridge and pantry and, for the first time, I was a month ahead in rent and my bills were paid on time. I had a new addiction. Money of my own.

I bought new clothes, lingerie, gowns, shoes, make up and jewellery to make sure I was the prettiest girl on shift so I would earn the most money. I also bought lots of alcohol and weed to numb myself after work. I was given a work name – so I became her and she became me and we were strong empowered women earning our own money in a legitimate business, not relying on a man to pay our bills or way through life… From legal brothels to escort services, I was doing it all, except where it was illegal: on the streets.

Meanwhile the rest of my life was falling apart. I had sex with old men. Ugly men. Savage men, who would pin me down and grind their hips into my thighs till I felt like they would dislocate. Drunk men who would get angry and demand a refund because they couldn’t cum after an hour of sucking and fucking. Entitled men who felt they had paid for the right to use my body in any way shape or form they wanted to. Perverted men who paid me more to wear a school girl uniform and call them daddy. Strange men who paid extra for me to fuck them anally with large dildos while they masturbated. Bastard men who only wanted it doggy style so they could attempt to slip the condom off. Men coming straight from a factory job covered in grease and dirt with filthy hands and nails wanting to shove as many dirty fingers into my vagina as they could. Men who were offended when I told them I needed to perform a visual STD check for crabs or herpes before the booking could go ahead. Men who were even more offended when I refused to service them due to suspicious looking critters or lesions on their dicks and told them they could return when they could supply a doctor’s certificate.

I was booked to go to men’s homes, workplaces or wherever they were. My driver I hear you ask? Surely, I was safe with a driver waiting outside? More often than not, I drove myself as the escort company’s one driver can’t drive six women to different parts of the city or suburbs all booked at different times or lengths of booking.

So off I went. Never knowing if tonight was going to be my last night alive if I displeased the john with no-one to intervene. Would my child be left growing up to discover Mum was a dead prostitute? I learned how to negotiate enough to get myself out of some pretty scary situations with johns who were drunk or high. I guess that’s one good life skill. What I use it for these days is not much, but hey, at the time, I was an expert…

Especially with the guy high on crack who was holding a large Crocodile Dundee size knife when I came back from doing a safety check of the hotel bathroom. Thankfully, he was only using it to cut the TV cord for the copper in it. But I swear in that moment, I thought I was dead and I prayed…. To Everything… Then I spent three hours fucking him so I could walk out without further incident as the image of that knife constantly flashed before me.

Every month I went to my doctor for STD tests to prove to my bosses I was fit for work, and every three months, a blood test to hopefully prove I had not contracted HIV from a john. The anxious wait for the all clear still sits in the hallowed hell of my memory bank.

I was in and out of legalised prostitution from the ages of 21 to 32. Do you know that the only kind of promotion I got in all those years was to go from the rooms to behind the counter, helping to sell other women like myself. I hate myself for that. To me, I was no better than the pimps and thugs who trade in women and children for profit.  But it was all I knew and there was no real tangible support to help me turn my life around.

There was so much shame and fear associated with coming forward even to a GP, because they all seemed to think it was my choice to work as a prostitute. In some ways, it was the only choice. I knew nobody wanted to employ a woman who puts “sex worker” on their resume to fill in the 11-year gap in their working life when they attempt to reclaim some semblance of a “normal life”.

Almost none of the helping professionals I have seen over years of therapy has ever asked how this job has affected me. Even today after all these years. Instead, they try and diagnose me with borderline personality disorders or schizophrenia or bipolar and put me on medication – which never worked, by the way. If anything, they made things much worse as I was bounced from one medication to another as doctors tried to squeeze me in a neat box and tick me off as cured.

Only one got it right – in 2004. I live with Complex Post Traumatic Stress (CPTSD) and Dissociative Identity Disorder, and chronic lifelong back injuries, and vagina and rectal trauma. I’m not crazy. I’m not mental. My name is Jaime and I am the hidden result of the real horror behind the closed red doors of the sex trade industry here in Australia.

It is my lived experience that gives me the right to say that sex work is not a job like any other job and nor should it ever be seen as such. The deaths and long term mental and physical illnesses caused by this industry are ever growing and uncountable in monetary terms for society as a whole.

There is a minute percentage of people who may come out unscathed from their time in it, but I’m here to tell you an unpopular truth: I’ve personally met well over a hundred women over the years who will never have a normal life again. Beaten, bashed, raped, killed – and that’s just me.

I can’t help but think of the thousands of stories women tell each other every day as they wait in some dingy waiting room hoping to pay their rent, bills, school fees, etc. And I haven’t even started on interviewing the men/boys/trans people who have similar life stories to mine.

I don’t even know how to try and get a “normal job” – because I’ve tried – only to have to deal with men who trigger all my old memories with their sexist misogynistic views on women, their “boys will be boys” attitudes, and their locker room jokes.

After over 20 years of quietening my voice, hiding my life in shame and being frightened that no one would believe how damaging this was to me and the loved ones around me, thanks to the love, support and empathy shown towards me/us from Wahine Toa Rising’s founder, Ally Marie, I now feel safe and have the courage to speak out publicly.

Decriminalizing prostitution in countries that I know, like Australia and New Zealand, has sent the message that it’s OK to buy and sell people like pieces of meat at market. My observations of it since leaving 20 years ago, is that it’s caused an explosion in men or women with large amounts of money, mostly obtained through illegal activities, to invest in the creation and building of more brothels to fill the demand of men who want the freedom to abuse and commit violence towards people. I’m saying people as a whole because it’s not only women who are caught in the sex trade.

They target the most vulnerable ones in our societies and exploit them for profit that fills their wallets and, I promise you, the tax man barely sees a cent from them due to the front cover businesses they run at a loss.

Our elected officials are tasked with a duty of care towards the population they represent and to work in the best interests of a happy and healthy society. But they are allowing the sex slave industry to flourish unchecked. This beggars belief to someone like me and others I speak to.

As I stand here today, I implore you to look within your hearts and ask yourself, is this what you would want for your family, children and grandchildren?

To be lied to, tricked, coerced, sold, kidnapped and trafficked to strangers, numerous times a day. To be abused, raped, develop substance abuse issues, be beaten or at worst murdered, by a society that accepts this as a risk of the job that is deemed legal despite overwhelming evidence of the long-term negative ramifications.

Would you feed your family asbestos? Would you advise they take up cigarettes or drink DDT? No. Why not? Because time eventually proved the sickness and death tolls are too high.

In closing, I also ask which side of history will you want to be known for standing on? The one that ultimately destroys humanity or with the ones who did whatever they could to save it.

I know where I’ll be. For I was once taught, that if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.

Thank you for your time. I pray you choose right from wrong.

[katherinebotten]

Diabetes Type III

Two hipsters are in Footscray Mall, they are on a date. It is a guy and a girl. A homeless man asks them for money. The girl gives him money and smiles knowing the code she’s sending to her male date is that she’s a good person.

The homeless guy talks back to her and they have a fake conversation for about ten seconds, because it's a part of the exchange that the homeless guy is paid to pretend he doesn't deserve to be on the street. His role in this three-person play recollects him from deviation. She doesn't want to be talking to him. She is pretending. She shouldn't be on a date with a guy who she has to perform a false-self in front of. The homeless guy doesn't want to earn his keep like a clown at The Royal Adelaide Show. Everyone involved is being dishonest. No one actually wants to be engaging with another. Even on a date you are just stuffing holes. 

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction and the homeless man has further calcified his hopeless clown mask and the hipster retard has further calcified her Married to the Mayor in the 1940s mask. They are making a random man Work For The Dole and no-one's Autonomic Nervous System is relaxed. The two hipsters on a date and the homeless man just played out old survival strategies, which feels bad every time we do it, even if it's unconscious, because it adds to our vibrational signature, and because playing small is false and the metaphysical false is the same as running off batteries instead of running off infinite effortlessly regenerative Source Energy (like biodynamic/permaculture).

VS.

Later that day all parties from the above minor exchange will engage in a mix of over- or under-consumption, depending on each parties long pre-established coping mechanisms, as they will now know their attempts at everyday freedom were met by the border security of their bodies nervous system’s, and their visa applications to leave the confinement of the Old Survival Law were rejected. 

A grief sits underneath.

Physics is subtle. 

Energetically the hipster couple on a date in Footscray:

Made the homeless guy be a comedian.

Energetically raped the homeless man.

Limited variation, having the effect of bleaching culture. 

Were nazi’s killing out variation. 

Were big industry mandating monoculture. 

Were the Work For The Dole police.

Demonstrated violence against women by re-affirming limited female behaviour.

The girl raped her male date by forcing him to stand-witness to her fear-based programming.

For three dollars the girl took two men’s freedom. 

The homeless guy drugged himself, and the two on the date, by perpetuating a scenario that would result in all parties acting out in a way later on to re-establish regulation of their nervous systems.

The two leftists on a date would be jailed in spiritual court for starting off a reaction that will inevitably end in the inorganic chemical alteration of three of God’s Children’s physiology. 

This could be through the obvious avenues, or the less obvious for example: cursing at someone from inside a car, gossiping, over-cleaning, taking melatonin to sleep, drinking coffee, being on antidepressants, wearing any shoe that isn’t a bare-foot shoe, getting tattoos, or eating fruit.

If you explain this to a magician they understand.

I gave up being an influential fine artist to become a magician. 

I am looking for other magicians.

I was driving from Adelaide to Melbourne the long route, no highways, and went through lots of tiny townships. In country Australia everyone is dressed like an eshay. 

Brunswick East has a significant Lack of Culture. There is no Actual Difference in Brunswick East. Karen R. Hurd is a biochemist and nutritionist in America. She talks about the condition of the villi lining the small intestine. You want the villi to be standing tall, proud, engorged with blood and vital but within its natural resting-working-states, and independent. Like the Great Indian Spirit of America. The food we eat makes our villi flat and smooshed like when fake-artists make “felted” fabric out of clumping fibre together, or a backpacker's squashed dreads. In Brunswick East the villi is smooth. Conflict and disagreement is important for the ecosystem. 

VS.

Rap music makes villi flat because it is about bandaging fear instead of confronting it.

In Melbourne Fine Art sex, hate, death, apathy, violence, drugs, and post-modernism is common and cheap. In a country town it is easy and simple to do ice and dress like Eminem. Simple signifiers secure safety. The most hard looking Unit is the most scared Unit. The most stylish cool Melbourne artist whore is the most scared Melbourne artist whore. When you act on being scared you are not an artist. Anyone can contribute - to contribute does not mean to create. Melbourne art galleries with death names is smooth-villi culture. It is stable to do what is common. Our inner-child wants to feel safe. The nervous system is dysregulated and we run on defaulted survival mechanisms like layering second-hand designer clothing. It feels good to pitch a ball low like when the anaesthetist puts the gas mask over your mouth and nose and says to take “a big deep breath”. Girls starve themselves for summer and the prize is being looked at.

Everyone who says they like Ice Spice is a regressed loser not an artist. There is a lot of confusion in fine art about who is an artist. I know two artists they are On The Dimensional Quest, and the rest are parrots pursuing what is horizontal. Contributing to the culture is not the same as making a new one. Death art is mono-culture, it’s one crop. Low-ball anaesthetic art has the same effect as antibiotics and maybe those who can’t survive infection should die. 

I’m honouring my villi and sculpting it like a true fine artist which means one that creates. Everyone else is a phoney two-bit actor, I didn’t know we were living in LA. We must get underneath the programming given to us by our parents, who were given their programming, all the way back to Adam and Eve, who were gifted consciousness by leaving the Garden. Underneath all the lying. 

No one caring about what is new could be on The Quest. Artists must only care about what is True. 

I am guiding the villi to stand up on their own and be independent and autonomous and in doing so the villi are morphing from Bob Marley dreads to big antennaes like from the 1970’s.

The villi are picking up on more frequencies and the villi themselves are acting like sails on a super-yacht and I’m sailing around quicker and smoother and sending out signals and wavelength beep bops and I’m begging for my billionaire magickian husband to pick up on the frequency because I feel so fucking alone. 

At our core sits our subconscious, the designer authenticator. It sends out a wavelength. Everything in your material plane is a sculptural representation of this personal wavelength. The way I’m making art today is rejecting the physical world and cultivating Great Internal Change. This guy is coming to fuck me and sail around Australia with me and at night he decorates me with Tibetan Prayer Flags and then stuffs them into my cunt with his fist.

I am so lonely I feel like I was born in New Caledonia without friends, only books and TV and I’m staring out into the ocean and I might as well have cataracts because who cares about Vision when you can’t see.

Fine Art is merely fashion. Transcendental Meditation is definitively a cult and fake but they talk about if your mind is an ocean then dropping down deep into The Source Of All Thought at the bottom like James Cameron’s Deep Sea Challenger. 

Fine Artists are cowards who need to become magicians but most are too scared.

I had a friend, we don’t talk anymore, that’s the pattern. She said “the way someone looks is the least interesting thing about them”. A vibrational signature radiates out and casts marks like Style, and a vampire mirrors-back and sneaks under diamond-security vault laser beam radars and gets in close because Glamour dresses snakes up like trance-inducing pendulums. Iconoclasm hones in on the skills we need to remain present when the Nervous System is Dysregulated and taken by false idols like low-value beauty. This is a quality difference similar to chocolates that look the same but one brand leaves a coat of oil in your mouth. There is a resonance difference. We come to learn to uncouple from the authority of appearance. Iconoclasm helps us develop our own internal energetic compass. Artists become tuning forks. Artists become theremin's. Melbourne Germany art heads are Anko-ass Kmart-ass spectrum bleachers and magicians are and should be invisible because vampires don’t deserve to see them. Making a painting or a sculpture or having a show is mediaeval. Saved by grace through faith, not works.

Spider tattoo prostitutes are the only people economically able to live alone in Australia. Patrick Sandberg and Paul Cupo contributed to culture and now they can holiday in Miami and live alone in Los Angeles and New York, doing what they do best, which is writing and thinking and putting clothes together, watching movies, laughing and having friends, but in Melbourne there are no rewards. It’s Diabetes Type Three.

I took a long service leave to go find us all something else. I sit at Williamstown and stare at the water. There's a giant ladder reaching into the sky. Practitioners like Irene and Seth Lyon, Jessa Reed, Neville Godard, and Josef Strau, hold the hand of the people vibrationally below them and lift them up. This is the chain of atonement described in A Course In Miracles. We extend upward like a spire constructed like vernacular architecture from bits and whatever is around. It is DIY punk but not ugly and only elegant because it is pure purpose and function, not identity. The people at the top you can’t see because they are vibrating at such a rapid speed and of such fine a frequency that they have dissolved into space and time. The string from the bottom of the ground to the top of the sky reads like a historical time-line of technology evolving. At the bottom the people are like VHS and in the middle they are like Blu-ray and near the top they are streaming, and at the top top they are just Imagination which is God carnate.

When I spin so fast I dissolve for the final time I am not coming back to help anyone!

[thedailyscribbler]

What is a panel beater and how they repair damaged vehicles?

A panel beater, also known as an auto body technician or collision repair technician, is a professional who specializes in repairing damaged vehicles. Their job is to restore vehicles to their pre-accident condition by repairing or replacing damaged parts, straightening bent metal, and addressing other cosmetic issues. There are some professional panel beater in Melbourne that offer professional panel beating services for any type of vehicle.

Here are some of the steps that a professional panel beater may take to repair a damaged vehicle:

Assess the damage: The panel beater will examine the vehicle to determine the extent of the damage and create an estimate for the repair work.

Remove damaged parts: The panel beater will remove any damaged parts that cannot be repaired, such as a damaged fender or door.

Straighten bent metal: Using specialized tools, the panel beater will carefully straighten any bent metal to restore the vehicle's shape.

Repair damaged parts: If possible, the panel beater will repair damaged parts rather than replacing them. This may involve welding, sanding, and painting.

Replace damaged parts: If a damaged part cannot be repaired, the panel beater will replace it with a new part.

Refinish the vehicle: Once all repairs are complete, the panel beater will refinish the vehicle by painting it to match the original color and texture.

Overall, panel beaters play a crucial role in restoring damaged vehicles and ensuring that they are safe to drive. They use specialized skills and equipment to repair damage and restore the appearance of the vehicle to its original condition.

How long does it take to panel beat a car?

The amount of time it takes to panel beat a car will vary depending on the extent of the damage and the specific repair work needed. In general, minor repairs that involve small dents or scratches can be completed in a few hours, while more extensive damage may take several days or even weeks to repair.

Here are some factors that can affect the time it takes to panel beat a car:

The extent of the damage: The more severe the damage, the longer it will take to repair.

The availability of replacement parts: If replacement parts need to be ordered, this can add to the time it takes to complete the repair.

The complexity of the repair: Some repairs may be more complicated than others, such as those involving structural damage or extensive paintwork.

The workload of the repair shop: If the repair shop is in busy area like Melbourne city, this can affect the amount of time it takes to complete the repair.

Overall, it's best to get an estimate from a panel beater in Melbourne to determine how long it will take to repair a car. They will be able to provide a more accurate estimate based on the specific damage and repair work needed.

What makes a good panel beater?

A good panel beater is someone who possesses a combination of technical skills, creativity, attention to detail, and customer service abilities. Here are some qualities that are essential for a good panel beater:

Technical skills: A good panel beater should have a strong understanding of the mechanics of cars and be proficient in using tools and equipment needed to repair them.

Attention to detail: Panel beating involves precise and detailed work, and a good panel beater should be meticulous in their work to ensure that every detail is perfect.

Creativity: In some cases, a panel beater may need to be creative in finding solutions to repair damage that may be difficult to repair using conventional methods.

Communication skills: A good panel beater should be able to communicate effectively with customers, insurance companies, and other professionals in the auto repair industry.

Customer service: A good panel beater should be friendly, professional, and provide excellent customer service to ensure customer satisfaction.

Time management: A good panel beater should be able to manage their time efficiently to ensure that repairs are completed within the agreed-upon timeframe.

Dedication to ongoing learning: The auto industry is constantly evolving, and a good panel beater should be dedicated to ongoing learning to stay up to date with the latest techniques and technologies.

Overall, a good panel beater should be skilled, creative, detail-oriented, and dedicated to providing excellent customer service.

[f1]

Max Verstappen hits out at FIA after winning chaotic F1 Australian GP

Max Verstappen has led a swathe of driver criticism of the decision-making at the Australian Grand Prix after the race was stopped three times because of incidents on track. The world champion dismissed it as a mess and accused governing body the FIA of being responsible for the problem. Verstappen won in Melbourne with a dominant display but only after three red-flag stoppages, chaos and confusion and the race ultimately finishing behind the safety car. The second red flag with four laps to go led to a standing restart from which there were multiple incidents causing another stoppage and a further 30-minute delay. “I am very happy to have won, but the race towards the end was a bit of a mess,” he said. “I just didn’t understand why we needed a red flag. It left a lot of drivers confused. If we would have had a safety car and then a normal rolling start we wouldn’t have had all these shunts and then you have a normal finish. So they created the problems themselves. “We’ll talk about it, I think it left a lot of drivers confused about why we needed a red flag. We’ll talk in Baku.” Questions were also raised as to whether the stoppages, which close the field up and are followed by dramatic standing starts, were being employed merely to improve the spectacle, which was proving costly with six drivers involved in incidents after the second restart. “Nothing against them, but the people who make decisions don’t know what’s going on inside the car,” said McLaren’s Lando Norris. “The whole point of red-flagging it feels like it was just to put on a show. Someone does something stupid at turn one, locks up and your race is over because [the FIA] just want to make the show more exciting.” The Mercedes driver George Russell who took the lead from Verstappen off the start but was then put at a disadvantage after the first red-flag was also critical of the FIA. “I thought the red flag was totally unnecessary,” he said. “I don’t really know what’s going on with some of the decisions at the moment. We’re all trying to work together with the FIA to improve things but it’s seemingly a bit of a challenge.” via Formula One | The Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/sport/formulaone

[duckprintspress]

Contributor Spotlights: S. Z. Meriläinen and Maggie Page

Welcome to She Wears the Midnight Crown and He Bears the Cape of Stars, two brand-new anthologies that share a common theme – masquerades – but tell different types of stories – wlw in She Wears the Midnight Crown and mlm in He Bears the Cape of Stars. These collections are the latest titles from Duck Prints Press, the indie publisher founded by fans to publish original works by fan creators, and they’re crowdfunding NOW, only on Seed & Spark!

Curious about the collections? Well, here’s a sneak peek of the works of two of our creators!

She Wears the Midnight Crown Contributor Spotlight: S. Z. Meriläinen

Biography: Satu Meriläinen grew up exploring the Great Barrier Reef off Queensland, Australia, and foraging through pine forests in rural Finland. Now she lives with her wife and two dogs in Melbourne. She adores fantasy and science fiction with sprinklings of magical realism. In her spare time, she sings along loudly to any song she knows, cross stitches, bangs out a few sentences at a time, and plays video games badly.

Links: Personal Website | Twitter

Story Title: Carved of Ice and Snow

Teaser:

Tendrils of ice had squirmed beneath it and were winding their way towards the stranger’s supine body. Siofra lunged forward and stomped her heels hard into the ice, shattering it below her heel. It splattered the floor with shards and mud from the tread of her boots. Muttering, she glared at the tendrils, which quickly slunk back to linger, uncertainly, by the door. To vent her frustration, she sent her kicked-off boots to thud against the door above them.

Despite her anger, the ice tendrils lingered. Siofra almost fancied they were wistfully waiting for a chance to reach for…

She turned to the stranger, moving closer to kneel by their side. Despite the heat filling the room, the snow that coated them was still intact. Siofra brushed it away with brisk swipes of her hands, hands travelling up the stranger’s body, fingertips trailing over powerfully built muscles. The stranger was, so far as Siofra could tell, a normal elvish—no, human, judging by the rounded ears—woman who wore a loose dress dyed in irregular starbursts of colour that shifted like sunlight off a flowing stream.

He Bears the Cape of Stars Contributor Spotlight: Maggie Page

Biography: Maggie Page lives in Texas with family, including her incorrigibly clumsy mom with a green thumb, two silly dogs who are also mother and daughter, and a fierce feline hunter. Maggie has previously published several poems and a piece of flash fiction with collegiate and independent journals.

When not indulging the urge to write, Maggie enjoys music, traveling, camping, dabbling in various art forms, principally watercolor and graphic making, and torturing her loved ones with her ruthless board game victories.

Story Title: Sincerely and Enigmatically Yours

Teaser:

“You’re all ready. Paid in full.” Felicia fussed with the card attached to the aubergine ribbon tied around the vase. “I do hope you enjoy them; be sure to pay close attention to the note.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

Felicia winked. “You too, dear.”

Stepping out the door felt like leaving another dimension. He carried his prize as if the plants harbored a little bit of magic and settled the bouquet carefully into his car. Unable to resist his curiosity, Marcelo reached for the card. Inside, he found a poem like those in the adventure stories he’d read as a child.

A rose for love is too cliché

to express what I would say.

These blooms for you instead convey

noble qualities you display:

You never do a thing halfway.

When others go, you always stay.

You take the time to savor play.

One final hint with no delay:

The liar wetly will relay, 

“In company, I hide away

among the twins and scales that weigh.”

*

Intrigued? You should be! But, if you want to read the rest of these stories you’ll need to back our campaign, running now through July 14th, 2022!

Visit Our Campaign Page!

[nusrattalks]

An Immigrant’s Notes- 1

Rubayat was woken up by the familiar, deafening knocks on her bedroom door- it was part of her house help Tara’s weekend ritual to try and break down her door in the process of waking her up.

But even Tara’s absolute lack of a sense of privacy couldn’t take away from the glee Rubayat woke up feeling. It was going to be an absolutely PERFECT day where everything and everyone including the weather was going to cooperate. With an ear to ear smile, Rubayat got out of bed and opened the curtains. And just as her heart had promised, the weather was indeed an indication of Dhaka feeling love for it’s people- sunny, breezy with the slightest sign of humidity and maybe some hints of rain. Perfect.

As she was washing up and brushing her teeth, she took her time to appreciate the beauty of the mundane: the feel of the toothbrush, the coolness of the water on her always-warm skin, the smile that greeted her in the mirror, the yellow of the indoor cactus by the window. So this is what ‘yellow’ feels like, she thought with giggles.

Even her beloved, torn-in-multiple-places maxi was saying ‘I love you’ to her in all possible languages.

She giggled some more.

Her parents met her at the dining table, along with her little sister Reba, waiting to start breakfast.

“Abba, I don’t know why you insist on waiting, it’s the weekend I should be able to sleep in some more.”

“Because otherwise, I’ll have to go days before we can all sit together at the table for breakfast.” He smiled. That warm, ‘Abba’ smile that radiated the sun’s rays.

She countered with giggles.

Rubayat looked around at the table and inhaled the sight and the smells: porota, dim poach and alu bhaji with her sister making their signature porota wrap, tongue out in concentration; Amma insisting on hand-feeding her; the smell of freshly brewing tea on the stove.

She could also smell the rest of the day. It smelt like her favourite Fridays, spent at their Uttara home, with those she loved as much as life itself. Smelt like the fragrance of turmeric and Chandan on Amma’s freshly showered skin, the fish fry for the feast which best described their Friday lunches, the smell of Abba’s skin as they’d all cuddle together in bed for a post-lunch nap, and the smell of fresh rain soil. The kind you only get to smell in Dhaka.

It sounded like cars honking at each other, and street peddlers reminding the neighborhood Ammas of the vegetables they forgot last minute; tunes of the old Bangla classics in the voice of Runa Laila and Shabnam that Abba will be playing later through the day already made its way into her ears.

She closed her eyes in anticipation and gratitude.

And just as she was about to take her first bite of the signature porota roll, Rubayat heard Amma’s frustration: “but how many times have I told you not to eat or drink anything in your dreams, Rubayat! Pet kharap korbe pore ke dekhbe tomake?”

As her brain tried to make sense of the confusion, her people and Dhaka home became a blur.

A jolt. And then, Tara’s deafening knocks.

Only, it wasn’t Tara.

It was the construction work taking place in the neighbourhood.

And it wasn’t her Dhaka bedroom.

It was the bedroom she was learning to call ‘mine’ in Melbourne.

As her body tried to make sense of what was going on, Rubayat’s brain tried to provide some assistance- This is Melbourne, Rubayat. You live here now. This is your new home.

That smell you’re getting is your roommate brewing coffee and making toast for breakfast.

That sound you’re hearing is Kiss FM playing the latest hits of Melbourne.

That alarm you are hearing is your phone telling you to wake the fuck up and call Robert about the meeting in Oakleigh at 3.

Abba, Amma and Reba are pretty far away. Dhaka home has to wait for a bit

Rubayat looked around her. Sure enough, her brain wasn’t lying, but her body was taking some time to re-adjust.

But wasn’t I just wrapping Amma up in my arms and smelling her skin? How could that not be happening right now?! Maybe if I close my eyes and open them again…

And so she shut her eyes tight, said ‘Allah please, Allah please’, and reopened them.

No Abba, Amma or Reba anywhere. Just her in her PJs, still feeling the warmth of her torn maxi.

With a sigh, she made her way out of bed with a smile.

Oh, well. Another day. Another dream about home. And a heart full of gratitude.

She went in to say good morning to her lovely Greek roommate, and the sight did make her heart smile.

Family away from family. Home away from home.

As she grabbed a piece of toast and made her way to get dressed, she heard her roommate call out.

“Wait, what’s those lines you were humming last night, again?”

Rubayat felt her heart fill up with sunshine and face light up with the biggest smile.

“I’ll be home for Christmas...if only in my dreams.”

[kavinsmith1122]

Expert Car Dent Repair in Melbourne | Bridge Road Body Works

Restore your car's flawless appearance with Bridge Road Body Works. Our skilled technicians in Melbourne provide top-notch car dent repair services, ensuring high-quality results and customer satisfaction. Trust us to bring your vehicle back to its best.

Visit: https://www.bridgeroadbodyworks.com.au/paintless-dent-removal/

[jollysauto]

Economic Efficiency: How Holden Wreckers Can Save You Money

Are you looking to save money on car repairs and maintenance? In today's blog post, we'll explore how Holden wreckers can be the key to unlocking economic efficiency and reducing your automotive expenses.

Whether you're a car enthusiast or someone in need of cost-effective car parts and services, understanding the benefits of Holden wreckers Melbourne is essential. Let's dive into how this approach can help you save money and make the most of your automotive investment.

What are Holden Wreckers?

Holden wreckers are specialised businesses that dismantle, recycle, and sell used parts from Holden vehicles. These parts are sourced from cars that are no longer in use, salvaged from accidents, or simply at the end of their life cycle.

By offering these recycled parts at affordable prices, Holden wreckers play a crucial role in sustainable automotive practices while providing cost-effective solutions for car owners.

Cost-Effective Parts and Accessories

One of the significant advantages of engaging with Holden wreckers is the availability of cost-effective parts and accessories. Whether you're in need of a replacement engine, transmission, body panels, or interior components, Holden wreckers offer a wide range of recycled parts in good condition.

By opting for these recycled parts instead of purchasing brand-new ones, you'll significantly reduce your expenses while ensuring the functionality and quality of the components.

Environmental Sustainability

In addition to being a budget-friendly option, choosing Holden wreckers for your automotive needs contributes to environmental sustainability. By reusing and recycling parts from old vehicles, these businesses play a vital role in reducing the environmental impact of automotive waste.

Every component salvaged through Holden wreckers represents a step towards sustainable practices, making it an eco-conscious choice for car owners.

Efficient Disposal of End-of-Life Vehicles

When a Holden vehicle reaches the end of its life, it's essential to ensure that its components are disposed of responsibly. Holden wreckers follow strict environmental guidelines for the disposal and recycling of end-of-life vehicles, minimising the environmental footprint of automotive waste. 

By choosing to work with Holden wreckers Melbourne, you're actively contributing to the responsible disposal of vehicles and their components, aligning with sustainable and environmentally friendly practices.

Expertise and Quality Assurance

Contrary to common misconceptions, Holden wreckers prioritise expertise and quality assurance in the parts they offer. Through rigorous inspection processes, only reliable and functional components are made available to customers.

This commitment to quality ensures that you can source cost-effective Holden wreckers parts without compromising on the performance or longevity of your vehicle, giving you peace of mind and confidence in your purchase.

Supporting a Circular Economy

By engaging with Holden wreckers, you're participating in the concept of a circular economy, where resources are reused, recycled, and repurposed. This sustainable approach to consumption and production not only saves you money but also contributes to the efficient use of materials and reduced waste generation.

Choosing to support Holden wreckers is a proactive step towards participating in a more sustainable and economically efficient automotive ecosystem.

Conclusion

The economic efficiency and cost-saving potential of Holden wreckers Melbourne make them a compelling choice for car owners seeking affordable and sustainable solutions for their automotive needs.

By embracing the benefits of recycled parts, contributing to environmental sustainability, and supporting the circular economy, you can make informed decisions that benefit both your wallet and the planet.

Source by - How Holden Wreckers Can Save You Money

[siya-patel]

Emergency Chiropractic Services in Melbourne: A Guide for Residents

Emergency Chiropractic Services in Melbourne: A Guide for Residents

In the bustling city of Melbourne, unexpected injuries or sudden back pain can strike at any time, leaving you in need of urgent care. When these situations arise, knowing where to turn for emergency chiropractic services can make a significant difference in your recovery. In this guide, we'll explore what emergency chiropractic care entails, why it's important, and where to find reliable services in Melbourne.

Understanding Emergency Chiropractic Care

Chiropractic care focuses on diagnosing and treating musculoskeletal disorders, particularly those related to the spine. Emergency chiropractic services address acute issues such as:

Severe Back Pain: Intense or sudden back pain that limits movement.

Sports Injuries: Immediate care for injuries sustained during physical activities.

Auto Accident Injuries: Whiplash or other injuries from car accidents.

Work-Related Injuries: Strains, sprains, or ergonomic injuries.

General Musculoskeletal Emergencies: Acute joint or muscle pain.

Emergency chiropractors are trained to assess these urgent situations promptly and provide appropriate treatment to manage pain and prevent further complications.

Why Seek Emergency Chiropractic Services?

Prompt treatment is crucial in managing musculoskeletal injuries. Here's why you should consider emergency chiropractic care:

Immediate Pain Relief: Chiropractors can offer immediate relief through adjustments and therapies.

Injury Prevention: Early intervention can prevent injuries from worsening.

Holistic Approach: Chiropractic care focuses on whole-body wellness, not just symptom management.

Non-Invasive Treatment: Chiropractic techniques are generally non-invasive and drug-free.

Finding Emergency Chiropractic Services in Melbourne

When you require urgent chiropractic care in Melbourne, consider these steps to find a reputable provider:

Research Online: Search for emergency chiropractors in your area. Look for clinics with positive reviews and emergency service availability.

Check Credentials: Ensure the chiropractor is licensed and experienced in emergency care.

Consult Local Hospitals: Some hospitals have chiropractors on call for emergencies or can refer you to trusted providers.

Ask for Recommendations: Seek recommendations from friends, family, or healthcare professionals.

Key Considerations

Before choosing an emergency chiropractic service, keep these points in mind:

Availability: Ensure they offer emergency services outside regular hours.

Location: Choose a clinic that is easily accessible in case of emergencies.

Cost: Inquire about fees and insurance coverage beforehand.

In Conclusion

Emergency chiropractic services in Melbourne can provide vital care when you need it most. Whether you're dealing with sudden back pain, a sports injury, or another musculoskeletal issue, seeking prompt treatment can accelerate your recovery and prevent long-term complications. By understanding what emergency chiropractic care involves and knowing where to find reliable services, you can be better prepared to address unexpected health challenges effectively.

Remember, your health is a priority, and accessing emergency chiropractic care promptly can make all the difference in your well-being. Be proactive in researching and identifying trusted providers in your area, so you're prepared if an urgent need arises.

Stay informed, stay healthy!

[pickpart1]

Auto Wreckers 101: Everything About Salvaging Vehicles

If you've ever wondered what happens to a vehicle after it’s deemed beyond repair, the world of auto wreckers and vehicle salvaging holds the answers.

Salvaging vehicles isn’t just about disposing of old cars; it's a complex process involving recycling, reusing parts, and ensuring environmental responsibility. In this blog, we'll delve into the fascinating world of best auto wreckers Melbourne, exploring what they do and why their work matters.

What is Auto Wrecking?

Auto wrecking, also known as vehicle dismantling or scrapping, involves dismantling vehicles that are no longer operational or are beyond repair.

The primary goal of auto wrecking is to salvage usable parts and materials from these vehicles. This practice is not only environmentally friendly but also economically efficient, as it reduces waste and provides valuable resources for repair and reuse.

The Salvaging Process

When a vehicle reaches the end of its road life, it's typically taken to an auto-wrecking yard. Here, the salvaging process begins:

Vehicle Inspection: The first step is to assess the vehicle for salvageable parts and materials. This includes checking the engine, transmission, body panels, tyres, and any other components that can be reused or recycled.

Fluid Removal: All fluids, such as oil, coolant, and gasoline, are drained from the vehicle. These fluids are then properly disposed of or recycled to prevent environmental contamination.

Component Removal: Skilled auto wreckers Melbourne carefully remove usable components like engines, transmissions, doors, windows, and electronics. These parts are tested, cleaned, and refurbished for resale.

Crushing and Recycling: Once all reusable parts are removed, the remaining shell of the vehicle is crushed and sent to a recycling facility. Metals like steel and aluminium are extracted and recycled to produce new materials.

Benefits of Auto Wrecking

Salvaging vehicles through auto wrecking offers several benefits:

Environmental Conservation: Auto-wrecking reduces the demand for raw materials by recycling existing metals and components. It also prevents toxic fluids and materials from leaking into the environment.

Cost-Effective Repairs: Salvaged parts are often significantly cheaper than new parts, making auto repairs more affordable for consumers.

Support for Local Economy: Auto-wrecking businesses create jobs and support local economies by providing employment opportunities and generating revenue through recycled materials.

The Role of Auto Wreckers in Recycling

Auto wreckers play a crucial role in the recycling industry. By salvaging and recycling vehicles, they contribute to the circular economy by reducing waste and conserving resources. Here's how auto wreckers contribute to recycling:

Metal Recycling: Vehicles are a significant source of recyclable metals like steel and aluminium. Auto wreckers extract these metals and supply them to metal recycling plants.

Part Reuse: Functional parts like engines, transmissions, and electronic components are refurbished and resold, extending their lifespan and reducing the need for new manufacturing.

Tire Recycling: Auto wreckers also handle tyre disposal and recycling. Used tyres can be repurposed for various applications, such as making playground surfaces or asphalt.

Choosing a Reputable Auto Wrecker

When it comes to salvaging vehicles, choosing a reputable auto wrecker is essential. Here are some tips for finding a reliable service:

Check Licenses and Certifications: Ensure that the auto wrecker holds the necessary licenses and certifications required by local authorities.

Ask About Environmental Practices: Inquire about their environmental practices for disposing of fluids, batteries, and other hazardous materials.

Read Customer Reviews: Look for customer reviews and testimonials to gauge the wrecker's reputation for quality service.

Compare Prices: Obtain quotes from multiple auto wreckers to compare prices for salvaging your vehicle.

Conclusion

Auto wrecking is more than just dismantling old cars; it's a sustainable practice that supports recycling and resource conservation. By salvaging vehicles, auto wreckers Melbourne contributes to reducing waste and providing affordable automotive parts. The next time you see a salvage yard, remember that it's not just a graveyard for cars; it's a hub for recycling and reusing automotive materials.

If you're considering salvaging a vehicle or looking for spare parts, consider reaching out to your local auto wrecker—they're the unsung heroes of sustainable automotive practices.