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eu-nicola · 12 days ago

Text

Morocco part 3

and final

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, pregnancy

word counter: 10706

author's note: spoilers of s4, things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

The ride home was shrouded in a fog of silence and empty stares. No one talked much; JJ’s death had left an open wound, an empty space that was impossible to ignore. You felt that weight in every fiber of your being, as if the air you breathed was thicker and harder to swallow. Even Rafe, always tough, showed a certain discomfort. It had been he who, in an act of unexpected humanity, had taken the shovel and buried JJ’s body with his own hands. His movements had been slow, while the echo of the earth falling on the body still resonated in your mind as a cruel reminder of how ephemeral life was.

They had achieved what they had sought so long. The Blue Crown, the relic that had led them all to the most dangerous adventures of their lives, was now in their possession. But the triumph tasted bitter, tinged with the boy’s absence. The laughter, JJ’s jokes, his unbridled energy and his unwavering loyalty were things they could never replace. Outer Banks felt different without him, as if a shadow had fallen over the place, obscuring happy memories and hopes for a better future.

Despite everything, there was one dim light that held everyone together: Sarah and John B’s baby. It was as if the news of his arrival was the only thing keeping the spark of life in everyone’s eyes. You knew that this baby would be named after their lost friend, a tribute that would forever connect them to the past. And John B, despite his pain, had already hinted that he wanted Pope to be the new godfather, a gesture that had brought tears to everyone’s eyes.

You watched all of this from a sort of distance, as if you were trapped in limbo. You didn’t know what to expect from your own life, from your future. The trip to Morocco had changed everything, not only because of the experiences you had lived through, but because of the promises and decisions yet to be made. You were expecting Rafe’s child, and the uncertainty of what that meant kept you on edge. What he had said in Morocco, the words laden with desire and a commitment you barely understood, kept fluttering through your mind. Was it real? Could you trust him to accept it, to keep those promises now that the adventure was over and reality was setting in again?

Rafe, sitting beside you on the shuttle back, stared out the window with his jaw set and his eyes lost somewhere on the horizon. You hadn't exchanged many words since JJ's death. You didn't know if he remembered what he had said, if the heat of the moment had faded into the coldness of reality.

The landscape passed by at full speed, but for you everything was suspended in a strange waiting pattern. There was no certainty about what would happen once you returned home. Rafe was a mystery, an enigma that you had loved and feared in equal measure. And now, with a child on the way, the future felt like a blank slate, ready to be written with the decisions that were to come, decisions that would define not only your life, but that of your child.

Hours later, upon returning home, the air was filled with a familiarity that contrasted with everything they had experienced abroad. Each of the group dispersed, returning to their own lives, immersed in a cloud of exhaustion and memories. You, with your heart still reeling, headed to your family mansion. The high walls and long shadows of the place greeted you with a sense of relief, as if you had finally found shelter after a long and stormy journey.

The first to see you was your father. His always imposing bearing seemed even firmer that afternoon. He approached you with determined steps and, to your surprise, a slight smile on his lips. He was not a man known for his displays of affection or fatherly affection, but this time, his hand rested on your shoulder with a touch that spoke more than a thousand words. “Well done,” was all he said. You had heard him say those words in contexts of success and victory, but this time, you knew there was something deeper behind them. He had underestimated you for so long that seeing his approval made you feel a weight less on your chest.

The conversation turned to what you had achieved, the Blue Crown and all that it had meant. Despite your father's joy, your mind kept wandering, divided between the euphoria of his approval and the constant shadow of uncertainty that Rafe cast over you.

Rafe arrived shortly after. Your father wasted no time and, with a look that combined defiance and humor, he addressed him with a few words: “Well done, Cameron. And congratulations on your engagement, although it seems it was not as solid as I thought.” Your father's ironic smile was a knife in the air.

Rafe reacted immediately, raising his chin with that mixture of haughtiness and tiredness that you knew so well. “I finished it,” he replied, his words sharp but full of conviction. The look between the two men was fleeting but intense. Your father, who had always been a good reader, let out a short, dry laugh, as if he had just won a game that only he understood. He didn't insist any further and walked away, giving you one last look that seemed to say that everything was fine, that you had done the right thing.

After the brief meeting in which your father and Rafe had exchanged words, you felt the weight of fatigue take hold of you. As you watched Rafe walk away, his silhouette fading into the dusk of the evening, a long, deep sigh escaped your lips. You knew you needed space, not only to process what had happened, but also to find clarity in the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that were crowding your mind.

You stayed in the mansion, allowing the silence and familiarity of the place to envelop you like a hug. You walked through the halls with slow steps, touching the walls and letting the coldness of the stone remind you that you were there, that everything had been real.

You reached your room and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you closed your eyes. You headed to the large window that looked out onto the garden, the lights of the night beginning to flicker, and for an instant, the view gave you some calm. Outside, the breeze moved the leaves of the trees, and the whisper of the wind was a reminder that, at least for now, you were safe.

The desire to rest was overwhelming. You took off your shoes and let your feet feel the soft carpet beneath them. You changed your clothes into something more comfortable and let yourself fall into the bed, which seemed softer and more welcoming than you remembered. You closed your eyes and tried to clear your mind, but the images and memories kept coming, like flashes you couldn't ignore.

What you needed most was a moment away from him, a space to put your thoughts in order without the intensity of his presence influencing you. You had shared so much in such a short time that your world seemed to revolve around him, and that scared you. You wanted to think about what it all meant, what you would be able to accept, and what you really wanted for yourself and for the future that, without realizing it, you had begun to imagine.

With a tired sigh, you lay down on the bed, letting the softness of the sheets envelop you. The distant sound of crickets and the tranquility of the place helped you disconnect little by little. Your body, physically and emotionally exhausted, was leading you to sleep, giving you the rest you had longed for. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to not think, to not feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, and just be you, in the shelter of your home.

When you woke up, the soft glow of the morning sun was streaming through the window, enveloping the room in a warm, golden glow. You blinked slowly, still sleepy, and your gaze landed on your phone. A notification caught your attention: a text from Rafe. It didn't surprise you, but it did make your heart beat a little faster. It said he wanted to see you, to come to his house.

Without answering, you put your phone aside and got up. You headed to the bathroom, letting the hot shower water run over your skin, washing away the tiredness that still lingered in your body. When you were done, you changed calmly, choosing an outfit that made you feel comfortable and safe. Breakfast was brief; just a cup of coffee and some fruit that you savored without haste.

When you finally felt ready, you grabbed your keys and left the house. The drive to Rafe's house felt longer than usual. When you arrived, an unexpected scene greeted you.

Rafe was standing on the porch, his expression tense and his hands gesturing in frustration as he argued with Sofia. Sofia, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with anger and distress, was trying to defend herself. You heard her say in a broken voice that everything she had done was because he had called her "Pogue," a word that to her was more than an insult; it was a rejection.

Rafe’s face hardened even further, his blue eyes flashing with anger. To him, that justification was a mockery. He couldn’t believe the ridiculousness of that confession. He demanded that she give him back the ring he had given her, a ring that belonged to his mother, a symbol that had once meant a future together. His voice was so firm and icy that even from your position, a little apart, you could feel the tension in the air. With one last look of despair, Sofia took off the ring with shaking hands and handed it to him. Without another word, she quickly left, passing you by with tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you. She simply disappeared down the road, leaving a trail of pain and failure behind her.

Rafe stood still for a moment, staring at the ring in his hand as if it were a weight he wanted to get rid of immediately. When he looked up and saw you, something in his expression changed. The hardness faded briefly, replaced by a flash of something you certainly didn’t know what it was.

As you approached him, you noticed how Rafe, with a quick and almost instinctive movement, put the ring in his pocket. Without hesitation, you moved closer and greeted him with a kiss, feeling the slight tremor in his lips.

“What happened?” you asked, trying to read in his eyes some sign that betrayed the conversation he had just had with Sofia.

“Nothing important,” he answered, looking away for a second before looking at you firmly again. “I just had to make it clear that this,” he said, making a gesture that implied everything that had happened with Sofia, “doesn't mean anything anymore.”

You nodded, although an uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach. The conversation you had been avoiding since Morocco was unavoidable, and the time had come.

“Rafe, we have to talk,” you said in a more serious tone, causing his expression to change as well. He nodded, waiting for you to continue. “What will happen to us now?” After everything that happened in Morocco... everything we said...

Rafe looked at you with an intensity that made the air feel thicker.

“I want to marry you,” he said, without hesitation. But there was something else in his voice, a note that you recognized as uncertainty.

You sighed and looked down for a moment, searching for the right words.

“I’m not sure, Rafe. You were with Sofia. If what happened hadn’t happened, would you have left her?” The question hung in the air, weighing between you like an unspoken truth.

He didn’t answer right away, and the pause made you feel like your heart stopped for a second. But then, with a determined gesture, he came closer and took your hands.

“You’re right to doubt, but listen,” he said, his voice deep and sincere. “If Sofia did what she did now, she would have done it sometime later. And it would have ruined everything, our marriage, my life… it would have brought me down. Her doing it now opened my eyes. It made me realize that the one I really wanted was you. Because I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else, to see you married to someone else, happy with another man. Not after everything we’ve been through together.”

His words were a torrent of emotions, and for a moment you were silent, taking in each one. The warmth of his hands in yours was an anchor, and when he raised a hand to caress your face, you felt a single tear run down your cheek.

“Rafe…” you whispered, and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if your words were all he needed to keep going.

You spent the day at Rafe’s house. Every corner of the place reflected his presence: the photographs on the shelves, the personal details on the furniture, and the subtle aroma that seemed to permeate the walls. You walked slowly, observing everything carefully, aware that this space would one day become your home.

Rafe watched you from the other side of the room. He knew that, although you had agreed to be there and spend this moment with him, there was a gesture he had to make. The ring that had once belonged to his mother and that, for a time, had been on Sofia's hand, was no longer a pure symbol.

As he walked towards you, he thought about how he knew you better than anyone else. He knew that you would not agree to wear that ring, not after everything that had happened. As much as it meant something special in his family, you would understand the burden it carried and what it symbolized. His thoughts were intertwined with the decision he had made: he would look for a new one, perhaps more than one.

Still, in time, you would wear both rings: the new one, and his mother's. But using just the old one wouldn't be an option, and Rafe understood that.

It had been two weeks since they returned from Morocco. Everything had calmed down, but there was still a tension in the air that didn't seem to want to go away. There were things you still hadn't talked about and you wanted to but you didn't know who to talk to.

The idea of talking to Sarah crossed your mind several times, but you quickly put it aside. Although you both shared something very big in common, the reality was that you had never been very close to her. Besides, she had her own problems: the pregnancy, her relationship with John B., everything that had happened with JJ... and you didn't want to add more to her burden. It wasn't the time.

You decided that the best thing was to go to the doctor alone, to confirm that everything was okay. Maybe find some peace at that moment.

When you arrived at the clinic, you felt a little nervous. The atmosphere was calm, but the discomfort of what you had to face didn't let you be completely relaxed. You sat in the waiting room, going over the thousand and one things that were running through your mind.

Finally, your name was called, and you walked into the office. The doctor greeted you kindly, motioned for you to sit down, and began asking you some general questions about your health and emotional state. You knew that was important, but you couldn’t help but feel like everything was about to change.

“Everything seems to be in order,” the doctor said with a smile as he looked over your results. “Your pregnancy is progressing well. You’re in the sixth week. It’s early, but everything we see so far is positive.”

You felt a wave of relief run through your body. At least at the moment, things seemed to be going well. But, inside, you were still a little lost. How were you supposed to handle all of this? How was something like this supposed to be handled?

The doctor, as if reading your thoughts, continued.

“The most important thing now is that you eat well. Your body is working for you and the baby. You need to make sure your diet is right for both of you.” He looked at you with slight concern. “And don’t stress yourself out.” That's a very important factor. Stress can affect not only your well-being, but that of the baby. Try to get enough rest and not overload your mind.

You knew it wasn't going to be easy. Stress was a constant in your life, but, for the moment, those words were what you needed to hear.

As you left the consultation, you felt a mix of relief and confusion. Everything seemed fine.

When you got home, the atmosphere seemed different. You had been alone in your mind all day, reflecting on everything you had experienced in the last few weeks. Despite everything, your father's call had taken you out of that bubble and brought you back to reality.

He was waiting for you in the living room, sitting in his usual chair, staring at the turned-off television. He wasn't watching anything in particular, he was just thinking, and you knew that. When you walked in, he smiled at you, although there was something in his eyes that you couldn't decipher.

“Take a seat, daughter,” he said in a calm tone, inviting you to sit in front of him. It wasn’t common for him to talk about personal matters like that, but you knew something important was coming.

You sat down, leaving your bag on the floor and crossing your legs, preparing yourself for what awaited you. The silence between the two of you was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a kind of calm before the storm.

“Your mother…” he began, and you already knew what he was going to say. There was something in his voice that showed a mix of tiredness and resignation. “She wants to see you again.”

You didn’t know how to react. Your heart skipped a beat, a kind of knot formed in your stomach. Your mother had never been a part of your life in the way one would expect. Since you were nine, she had chosen her freedom over you, over family, over everything. She left in search of something you never understood. And now, after all those years, she wanted to come back as if nothing had happened. As if life could go back to the instant it left.

Your father continued, not looking directly into your eyes, as if he preferred to talk about her without doing it face to face.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” he said quietly. “She was never there when you needed her the most. It was my job, my responsibility… I raised you, I gave you what you needed, and although I know it wasn’t perfect, I did it with everything I had.”

He sighed, and for a moment, the weight of his words filled the space between the two of you. You knew how much it had cost him, what he had had to sacrifice to be a father and a mother at the same time.

“I’m not asking you to forgive her or accept her right away,” he continued. “What I’m asking is that you don’t treat her badly. If you want to reject her, do it, but don’t argue with her. She’ll be here for a while, and we’ll both welcome her.” If we’re lucky, she’ll be gone soon, and you can go back to your normal days, to your life, as if nothing had happened.

You stayed silent, processing his words. It wasn’t just what he was telling you, but also what he wasn’t saying. You knew he was worried about how you might react, how difficult it would be for you. But he didn’t want you to get into something that could only make things more complicated than they already were.

“And one more thing,” he added, finally looking at you, his eyes steady and sincere. “I don’t want you to talk to her about Morocco, or Rafe, or anything that’s affecting you right now. She’s not here to get involved in your life again. If you do, you’ll only open a door that we don’t need to open. She has her own life and you have yours.”

You couldn’t help the feeling of anger, frustration, and pain rising in your chest. It wasn’t just that your mother abandoned you, but that she now intended to come back as if she hadn’t left a mark. As if the years of abandonment could be erased in the blink of an eye. But what hurt you the most was that your father was asking you to accept all of that. You understood it, somehow. He just wanted to avoid more conflict, more pain. And what he was asking of you was reasonable, but you couldn't help but feel trapped.

"I will, father," you said, your voice a little cracked. "I promise."

You stood up, knowing that this would be a difficult moment. You knew that the situation wouldn't be easy for anyone. But for your father, and for everything he had done for you, you were going to try. At least, you owed him that.

"Your mother won't be home for another month," your father said in a deep voice, as if the weight of that word, "month," was the only thing you could take in. "Don't worry."

That was the last thing you heard, as you left the room, you felt a mix of emotions. The weight of what was waiting for you was upon you, but for a moment you held on to the idea that everything could be better.

Your life was going to change once again, and you didn't know if you were ready for it.

Despite this, the days passed peacefully, more peacefully than you had imagined. You focused more on yourself, on your baby, without saying a single word about it to anyone. Despite being surrounded by people who loved you, you decided to keep that part of your life to yourself, letting your body and mind adjust to what was to come. Each day that passed, your heart was filled with a mix of excitement and fear, the future was uncertain, but you knew there was something beautiful and new waiting for you.

You and Rafe spent your days as you always had, but for you everything you did now seemed to revolve around that little life growing inside you.

One afternoon, when the sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning an orange color, Rafe invited you for a walk. There was something in his attitude that made you suspect that something was about to happen, but you didn’t give it any importance. The two of you were walking through the garden, enjoying the peace, when suddenly, he stopped in front of you, his expression serious, but with a spark of excitement in his eyes.

“I want to do something,” he said in a low, but firm voice.

You stopped, looking at him curiously. You didn’t know what to expect, but the calmness of his tone only increased your intrigue. Before you could say anything, he pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and opened it in front of you. Inside, not one, not two, but four rings glittered. Each one uniquely designed, with vibrantly colored gemstones that reflected the sunset light in an astonishing way. They were beautiful, ostentatious, almost as if he had wanted to encompass everything he felt for you in a single display of his love.

You looked at him in silence, not knowing what to say. He smiled, not losing his composure, but with a spark of nervousness escaping from the corner of his lips.

“I know this is a little… excessive, but I wanted you to know how much I love you, and that the future I want to build with you has no limits,” he said in a tone that tried to be serious but couldn’t hide the slight amusement he felt at the extravagant gesture.

You laughed, a light, genuine laugh, which filled the air with a warm feeling. Rafe looked genuinely nervous, but there was also something so sincere in his gesture that you couldn’t help but smile even more. Four rings? What kind of proposal was this? But at the same time, you understood what he meant by that act. It was his way of showing that he wanted you by his side, of making you feel special, unique. And he had succeeded, without a doubt.

You approached, took one of the rings and looked at it, then another, and another. It was an impressive collection, but you laughed again, amused by the exaggeration of the situation. You felt a little overwhelmed, but also touched by the gesture. Finally, you decided on one of the rings, the one you liked the most, but not before showing Rafe that out of those four, you would wear only two.

“I can’t wear all of these, but this one…” you said as you took the one you were most attracted to. “This one will be perfect.”

Without thinking twice, you let your laughter take over the situation. You fell into his arms with a mix of excitement and affection. “I do, Rafe. I do!” you said between laughs and hugs.

The relief on his face was instantaneous. He put his arms around you, holding you tight, as if he didn't want to ever let you go. There was only you and him, in time you would also wear his mother's ring but for now you wouldn't tell him.

After the proposal, the days passed too quickly. Although the news was still recent, you knew that, somehow, everything was falling into place, the news of the engagement soon reached everyone's ears, and one of the first to find out was your father.

One afternoon, when you came home after a long day, you found him waiting for you in the living room. His posture, always serious and of a man who rarely showed his emotions, was somewhat different that day. There was something in his eyes, a glint that you normally didn't see, as if he had been waiting for something in particular.

You sat down in front of him, and before you could say anything, your father broke the silence. “I heard about your engagement to Rafe,” he said in a firm tone, but with a slight smile on his lips, which he barely managed to hide.

“No… I didn’t know you already knew,” you said, surprised by his reaction.

“I’m your father,” he replied with a slight smile, “it’s hard for something to go unnoticed.” Then, his tone softened a little, and he looked at you intently. “I always wanted you to marry Rafe. He’s a good man, and although I’m not very given to showing it, I’ve always trusted him. Beyond emotions, what he does for you, for this family, gives me the peace of mind of knowing that you’re in good hands.”

You were surprised to hear those words from him, since you had always seen him more concerned about business and image, than showing you that kind of emotional support. But now, in front of you, it seemed different, like what she felt for Rafe was more than just a working relationship, like she really thought he was the best for you, for your future.

“Besides, I always had a good relationship with his father,” she continued, “and now, with what is going to be your marriage, we are going to have more than just a business relationship. This is going to be positive for everyone, for the family and for business.”

You stayed silent, processing his words. Although you didn’t like to see things only from a practical angle, you knew that your father was right in many ways.

The next day, you received a text from Sarah. She had been quiet for the past few days, but as soon as she found out about the engagement, she was quick to send you a text. The message appeared on your screen as soon as you opened your phone:

"Congratulations, future Mrs. Cameron. I can't believe you're marrying my brother. You know, I wish you the best, but don't expect me to agree with you about all this. You're not rid of me yet, I'm going to ask you a lot of questions!"

You laughed at the message, you knew Sarah was never one to express her feelings to you, but you were relieved that she at least agreed, even if it was in her sarcastic and funny way.

You quickly responded with an equally playful message: "Thanks, Sarah. Don't worry, I'm going to need you for the tough questions, be prepared!"

The conversation continued with more jokes and laughter, something that allowed you to relax a little after so many days of uncertainty. But even the days you had to relax would come to an end, in your life those kinds of days didn't last long and this was certainly not going to be the exception.

Shortly after the engagement, everything seemed to calm down. Family, friends, and even acquaintances seemed to be content with the idea that you and Rafe would really take that step together. However, something inside you still hurt, something you hadn't been able to share with him yet: the fact that you were expecting his baby.

The days went by and, although the idea of being a mother was beginning to settle in your mind, the fear and uncertainty about how Rafe would receive the news paralyzed you. It wasn't the perfect time to talk about it, not when you had just accepted his marriage proposal, not when everything seemed to be going the way you wanted. But you couldn't keep ignoring it.

Finally, after a quiet afternoon, while you were both relaxing at home, the moment you were dreading happened unexpectedly.

Rafe approached you in the kitchen while you were preparing something quick for dinner. There was something in his gaze, a slight uncertainty on his face, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. However, when he came closer to you and ran a hand down your back, a loving gesture, something clicked in your mind. A small movement he noticed, but you didn’t expect him to have such a big reaction.

“You’re… different,” he said, more of a statement than a question. “Are you okay?”

You stopped, turning your back to him so he couldn’t see how the news affected you. But it did. His gaze had changed.

“Rafe…” you murmured, turning to look him in the eyes, knowing you couldn’t hide it anymore. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence fell heavily between the two of you. Rafe stood, completely still, as if those words couldn’t be processed. He didn’t say anything right away, he simply watched you, as if he was expecting this to all be a joke, a misunderstanding.

“What?” The word came out of his mouth as a disbelieving sigh, but his gaze left no doubt that he couldn’t understand what you had just confessed.

You stopped short, anxiety beginning to take over you. You tried to calm your breathing, but your hands were shaking slightly. You knew this moment was crucial, that everything was going to change from now on, and the pressure of telling him the truth about the pregnancy had choked you until now.

“I’m sorry, Rafe… I… I was waiting for the right moment,” you began, your voice soft, but full of uncertainty. “I was supposed to tell you, but… I didn’t know how to do it.”

What you didn’t expect, however, was Rafe’s response. He was silent for a few moments, his expression distant, almost as if he wasn’t there. The initial confusion quickly gave way to a mix of anger and frustration.

“Since when have you known?” His voice came out louder than you expected, the question laced with a pent-up rage. “How long have you been keeping this to yourself?”

You felt yourself caught by his gaze, a mix of fury and confusion that you didn’t know how to handle. “Before I came back from Morocco,” you finally said, not looking at him directly. “I knew right before I came back.”

The change in him was immediate. Fury flared in his eyes, and for a second, he looked like he was going to explode. His breathing became faster, and the space between you was filled with palpable tension.

“Before I came back from Morocco?” he repeated, his voice now laced with disdain. “So you’ve been lying to me all this time. You’ve been avoiding me, hiding something so important from me. Why? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

You tried to get closer to him, but he took a step back, as if your proximity made him even more uncomfortable. “Rafe, I didn’t want this to change things between us. We were already going through so much… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want everything to fall apart.”

He kept looking at you, anger more than evident on his face. “What do you mean you didn’t know?! This changes everything! And you hid it from me, as if it wasn’t important. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me before.”

His words hit you, Rafe’s rage was palpable, and for a moment, you felt small in front of him. You had never seen him so furious, so distant. He wasn’t the man you trusted, he wasn’t the man who had proposed to you with that promise of a future together.

“Rafe, I didn’t want everything to fall apart,” you tried to explain, but words didn’t seem to be enough. “You know that’s not the case. I knew this wasn’t the time to tell you… we already had too many problems, and…”

“We had too many problems!” He interrupted bitterly, a growl coming from his chest. “And you think that makes all of this any less important? What, because we were in the middle of chaos, so it wasn’t going to be relevant that we were expecting a child? Did you really think I wasn’t going to care?!”

You stopped, the weight of his words had hit you like a hammer. You didn’t know what to say. He was angry, confused, and there was a part of him that seemed like it was about to fall apart, but the rage he felt was blinding him.

“Rafe, I…” you didn’t know how to continue. “I thought it was best to wait, that maybe after everything that happened…”

He interrupted you again, his tone already cold, as if he had completely shut down. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses. What bothers me, what really bothers me, is that you didn’t trust me enough. You didn’t care about how I was going to react. You didn’t think for a second about how this was going to affect me.”

The anger wouldn’t go away, and the worst thing was that it seemed to be closing in more and more. There was a wall raised between the two of you, a barrier you didn’t know how to break down.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your words empty. “I didn’t know any other way.”

The room was so quiet that the echo of his breathing was the only thing you heard. He wasn’t looking at you, his face a mask of frustration and sadness, and you didn’t know how to make it right. You didn’t know how to fix it.

Finally, after a few moments that felt like hours, Rafe took a step back and sighed deeply. “I need to think, I need time,” he said in a tense voice, not even looking you in the eye. “This is… too much.”

You watched him walk away, his figure disappearing down the hallway. You stood there, in the middle of the room, not knowing if the words you had said would ever bring you closer to him or if, on the contrary, you had pushed them further away. The future you had imagined with him now seemed uncertain, and the only thing you knew for sure was that everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

But beyond the anger and frustration, what hurt you the most was the feeling that, somewhere deep down, Rafe was still as lost as you were, and you didn't know if you would ever find him again.

After the argument with Rafe, you felt more lost than ever, not knowing how to face everything that was happening. The pressure of your pregnancy and the growing distance between you had left you exhausted, both emotionally and physically. You had tried to avoid talking about it, but something inside you knew you needed support. So it occurred to you to visit Sarah, she could understand you, she was the only one who could understand you.

When you got to where she was, the door was ajar. Sarah was sitting on the couch, staring into the horizon, as if thinking about something very deep. The sound of the wind coming through the window seemed to accompany the calm of the afternoon. You didn't say anything at first. You stood there, watching her for a moment, feeling that alien calm embrace you, even though you knew your mind couldn’t find peace.

“Do you mind if we talk?” You asked quietly, with palpable uncertainty in your tone.

Sarah turned her head upon hearing your voice and motioned for you to come in. Her eyes reflected a mix of surprise and curiosity, but there was also something in her expression that indicated that perhaps, at some point, she already sensed that this could happen.

“No, of course. Come in.” She replied as she settled down on the couch, moving some things around her.

You sat down next to her, keeping a little distance, but at the same time needing to be close. The silence between the two of you was heavy for a few moments, but finally it was you who broke the ice.

“I’m pregnant,” you said suddenly, as if blurting out the phrase was the only way to relieve a weight too great to carry alone.

Sarah looked at you for a few seconds, her expression soft but attentive. He knew you were waiting for his reaction, but he didn't say anything at first, not wanting to interrupt the moment when you decided to share something so personal.

“I knew it…” he replied, after a pause, almost as if he had already suspected it, but without any sign of judgment. “I'm so sorry, but it's… well, I can't imagine what must be going through your head.”

You sighed, letting yourself fall back a little on the couch, staring at the ceiling, searching for the right words.

“It’s… hard, Sarah,” you continued, your voice now a little more broken. “I was trying to hide it, to not think about it. But, after everything that’s happened… with Rafe, with everything… I don’t know what to do.”

Sarah nodded silently, her expression now serious, as if she were trying to understand you. Then, slowly, she turned to you and looked at you with an understanding you had rarely seen in her.

“I’m scared too,” she said suddenly, dropping her mask of perfection. “Of what’s going to happen, of how everything is going to change. It’s not easy, especially when you have no idea if you’re going to be able to do it right.”

Sarah’s words, so simple and sincere, made the pressure in your chest ease a little. The fact that she was scared too gave you a feeling of company, as if you weren’t completely alone on this uncertain path.

“What I worry about the most is… whether I am enough for this baby, whether I will be a good mother.” Your voice shook as you spoke those words, as if what you were saying was also an accusation of yourself.

Sarah looked at you for a long moment, thoughtful, and finally answered, in a soft but firm voice: “There is no manual for how to be a mother. There is no right way, and every day will be a test. But all I know is that when the time comes, you do the best you can. And that is all that matters. Because when you have that baby in your arms, you will know that you will do whatever it takes for him or her, whatever it takes.”

Those words, full of wisdom and unconditional love, were what you needed to hear. The uncertainty and fear were still there, but for the first time, you did not feel so alone. You knew that Sarah was going through something very similar, although her situation was different, but they shared the same fear, the same longing for an uncertain future.

“And about Rafe…” Sarah started, but you cut yourself off, feeling your stomach tighten at the mention of his name.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” you said quickly. “Everything is so broken between us right now… I feel like he’s not ready to be a father, and I don’t know if I am either.”

Sarah looked at you with a glint of understanding in her eyes. “It’s normal to feel that way. No one is ever really ready to be a parent. But you know what? Rafe is… complicated, I know that. But, if there’s one thing I can tell you, it’s that he’s going to have to deal with this somehow, because there’s no going back. And even if you don’t know it now, you might be surprised when you see how much he’s capable of loving that baby. Men have a different way of showing it, but that doesn’t mean both of you don’t feel it.”

You could see that Sarah, despite all her own fears and challenges, was trying to give you some hope. It was rare for the two of you to talk so deeply and openly, but you needed to hear those words from someone who was in a similar situation, someone who understood what it meant to take that leap into the unknown.

“Thank you, Sarah,” you finally said, with a sigh of relief. “I really needed to talk to someone about this.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a warm smile. “We’re a team now.”

You felt comforted knowing that even though life wasn’t easy, at least you now had someone to lean on, someone who, like you, was trying to find her way in this new chapter you were both beginning.

The conversation between you continued for a while longer. You didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in weeks, you spoke to someone who was willing to listen to you.

The days following the meeting with Sarah felt like a mix of surface calm and internal storm. Your father had also found out about the pregnancy and had congratulated you, but he had made it clear that you had to get married before giving birth, and you certainly agreed with that. Despite the uncertainty that continued to surround your relationship with Rafe, you knew that the engagement was still on, at least in appearance. It was not a topic that was openly discussed, but the presence of the ring on your finger was a constant reminder of what was to come.

You decided, in an attempt to distract yourself, to go for a walk through the town. The fresh morning air embraced you, and although your thoughts were still focused on other thoughts, for a moment you let yourself be carried away by the routine, by the simple pleasure of being alone, breathing the clean air and not having to worry about the awkward conversations that always seemed to haunt you.

The town seemed to be quieter than usual, perhaps because many had stayed home or were busy with their own affairs. The streets were more deserted than usual, which allowed you to enjoy the walk in peace. You walked down the quiet avenues, greeting some neighbors who knew you, without thinking much about your surroundings. The sound of your footsteps on the pavement was the only thing that accompanied you.

But as you turned a corner, you came across a figure that, at first, you couldn't quite recognize. The sun was low, and the dim light cast long shadows, but as soon as you looked up and your eyes met hers, you immediately knew who it was.

Sofia.

The moment was brief. She looked at you with a mix of surprise and something harder to identify, as if she didn't expect to see you there, but also as if she had known that sooner or later you would meet again. You, on the other hand, felt a mix of discomfort and some satisfaction at seeing her. The situation had changed, and you knew that was something that couldn't be ignored.

You both stood still, watching each other for a long minute, without saying a single word. The silence was heavy, the kind of silence that speaks for itself, that says everything without any need for any pronunciation. Sofia seemed to hesitate for a second, as if she didn’t know whether to say hello or continue on her way. Finally, it was she who took the first step, forcing herself to smile with an effort that seemed forced to you.

“Hello,” she finally said, her tone warm but with a slight awkwardness behind it.

“Hello,” you replied, keeping your cool. I didn’t want to seem like the situation affected me more than necessary, although the weight of the conversation that wasn’t being said was on you like a thick layer of snow.

You couldn’t help but let your hand slide, almost involuntarily, towards the engagement ring that sparkled on your finger, just as Sofia looked down. The gesture was subtle, but the way you watched her as you did it made it clear that you didn’t need to talk about what had happened for both of you to know what it meant.

Sofia, noticing the direction of your gaze, tried to smile again, but this time it was more of a nervous movement than a genuine one. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, and you could see how her eyes filled with discomfort. She knew what the ring meant. She knew what was happening. The silence between the two of you stretched, each of you struggling to find something to say, but neither of you really knowing how to handle the tension that had settled between you.

Finally, Sofia spoke, her voice a little lower, as if she were carefully evaluating her words: “So… you’re engaged, huh?”

Your heart was beating harder than usual, but you managed to stay calm, looking at Sofia with an expression that didn’t give away what you were really thinking. “Yes,” you answered with surprising calm. “Rafe and I are engaged.”

Sofia’s reaction was almost imperceptible, but the change in her expression was evident. Her smile faded a little, and her eyes, although still shining with a layer of confidence, no longer seemed as sure as before. She didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, she took a step back, looking around as if looking for some way to escape the conversation.

The atmosphere between the two of you was filled with that silent awkwardness, a space where words were unnecessary and gestures spoke for themselves. You didn’t know if she was expecting some kind of confrontation, or if she had reached a point where there was nothing left to say. All you knew was that the situation was no longer as it was before, and you were no longer the same person who had once felt insecure or small in front of her. You had changed, and that transformation was evident, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

“Well, I have to go now,” Sofia finally said, in a voice that, while trying to sound casual, was full of tension. “Congratulations,” she added quickly, as if she were looking for an excuse to escape.

You watched as she walked away, her steps quick and determined, without a backward glance. A sigh escaped your lips when you were no longer looking at her, and even though you knew the situation hadn’t been resolved, something inside you felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. You didn’t need any more explanations, you didn’t want any more confrontations. The ring on your finger and the way she had seen it was enough for you.

You stood there for a moment longer, the fresh air surrounding you, before continuing on your way, with the feeling that, even though things between you and Rafe were still unclear, at least there was no longer room for Sofia’s doubts.

After the unexpected encounter with Sofia, the awkwardness still throbbed in your chest as you walked to Rafe’s house. When you arrived, the house was empty, silent as if it hid secrets within its walls. A sudden impulse led you to search for answers; his phone was there, forgotten on the living room table.

Nervously, you picked up the phone and tried his birthday as the password. It unlocked easily. You scrolled through messages and notifications, hoping to find something that would explain Rafe’s recent distance. To your relief, there was nothing incriminating, just a text from Sofia, unanswered except for a short one from him that said, “I have a new life now.”

You sighed, putting the phone back, feeling guilty for the invasion of his privacy but, at the same time, calm. There was nothing else to see, nothing that could break your already fragile peace of mind. You decided to walk around the house to find any sign of him, but everything was silent. Rafe had left.

You didn’t stay long waiting, you didn’t have time. When you returned home, you were surprised to find your mother waiting in the living room, her elegant figure and imposing presence as if the years of absence had left no trace. She had heard about everything: the engagement and your pregnancy, and although she smiled approvingly, there was a sadness in her eyes.

“Child, I am happy for you, I really am,” she said softly, but her tone changed, “but it hurts me that you didn’t tell me yourself.”

The conversation became tense, and although you wanted to avoid conflict, frustration and resentment built up. For years, you had learned to live without her support, and now her sudden involvement felt almost foreign to you. The words began to flow, first in murmurs and then in a more frank discussion about her absence, about how she was never there when you needed her most.

Your mother nodded, apparently understanding, although pain was reflected in her eyes. Silence settled between you, heavy with the unsaid, the lost years and the opportunities that could no longer be recovered. You left the room leaving her alone, you did not have the energy to continue arguing with her.

She could stay here as long as she wanted but in regards to your life, you would not let her in, you would not give her that privilege again. She left you, very well, now that the consequences are taken care of.

After the tense conversation with your mother, you went up to your room in search of a refuge where you could gather your thoughts. You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the room you had known all your life, now so full of memories and at the same time so strange. You tried to calm your mind, but it was useless. Emotions crowded one after another.

You lay down on the bed, hoping that fatigue would overcome the whirlwind of ideas, but not a single second of sleep came. The hours slowly slipped by, the sun rose and slanted towards sunset, dyeing the room in orange and gold tones, but your thoughts did not cease for a moment. Reality was overwhelming, and every detail that emerged in your mind made you feel more trapped.

You knew that things with Rafe needed a solution. The conversation about your pregnancy, the uncertainty that floated between you and the weight of doubts were like shadows that did not fade away. And on top of all this was the presence of your mother, someone who had decided to return after years of absence and whose return complicated things around your life.

When the afternoon began to dye the sky a deep grey, you knew you couldn't continue like this. It was time to act, to do something to break this cycle of incessant thoughts and regain, even a little, control of your life.

You grabbed your phone with shaking hands and sent Rafe a short but direct message: “I need to see you.” Rafe’s reply was not long in coming; a simple “Come on over, I’ll be home” appeared on the screen. There were no more words, and with your heart racing, you prepared to go to his house.

The drive there was silent, interrupted only by the pounding of your heart and the crunch of gravel under your feet. When you arrived, the house was calm. The soft lights of dusk filtered through the windows, bathing the walls in a soft gold. You took a moment at the door to breathe deeply and calm yourself before entering.

Rafe was there, standing by a window, watching the horizon with a thoughtful expression that faded when he saw you. His eyes, usually confident and calculating, reflected a mix of emotions that were difficult to decipher. The tension in the air was palpable, but there was also a softness in the way he turned to look at you.

You took a couple of steps towards him, words stuck in your throat, until you finally broke the silence. “Rafe, we need to talk,” you said, your voice sounding firmer than you expected.

He nodded slowly and moved closer, his hands hanging at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. You took a breath and began to speak, your voice breaking at first, but gaining strength with each word.

“Rafe, I want you to know that I love this baby and I love you. I want you to be there, to love him as much as I do. I don’t want fear to drive us further apart.”

Rafe’s expression changed; his eyes darkened for a moment, reflecting a mix of guilt, fear, and something deeper. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you made when he was nervous. “I know I’ve been distant, and I know this hasn’t been easy for you. But… I’m scared,” he confessed, and his eyes searched yours, waiting for a reaction.”

You approached slowly, each step feeling lighter than the last. You raised a hand and placed it on his arm, forcing him to look at you again.

“No one is born knowing how to be a parent, Rafe. We’re going to make mistakes, sure, but you’re not alone. I’ll be here with you, always. We’ll do it together, we’ll learn together. I don’t want you to think you have to be perfect, I just want you to be here and try.”

For a moment, the tension seemed to fade. Rafe closed his eyes and let the words sink in. When he opened them again, there was a different glow, a spark of hope and resolve.

Without warning, he put his arms around you, holding you with a mix of strength and tenderness. You felt all the accumulated weight begin to fade in that contact. No more needed to be said. The reconciliation was not in the words, but in the gesture, in the way his hands trembled as they caressed your back, in how his lips brushed your forehead like a silent promise.

After the reconciliation, you spent the rest of the day at Rafe's house. There was something different about him, a renewed energy and a genuine interest that had only been hinted at in fleeting moments before. As you sat on the couch, the afternoon light illuminated the room. Rafe plopped down beside you, his gaze curious and soft, free of the shadows that used to accompany him.

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” he asked, breaking the silence with a voice that denoted both concern and contained emotion. His eyes searched yours, eagerly awaiting an answer.

You smiled slightly, remembering the visit to the doctor. “Yes, I went a few days ago. Everything is fine, he told me that the baby is healthy and that I should take better care of myself. Eat better, rest more... things I haven't done much of lately.”

Rafe nodded, and for a moment his lips sketched a calm smile. “I'm going to make sure you do. I don't want you or the baby to lack anything.”

The air in the room felt lighter, almost cheerful, as the two of you began to imagine what this new life that awaited them would be like. Rafe, with an unusual sparkle in his eyes, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you thought of names? Because I have a couple in mind, but I don't know if you'll like them.”

You laughed softly, relieved to see him so engaged. "Actually, yes. If it's a girl, I've always liked the name Clara. It's simple, but strong."

Rafe nodded in approval, repeating the name as if to test how it sounded in his voice. "Clara... I like it. But if it's a boy, I have one in mind: Luca. What do you think?"

A smile formed on your face at the name. "Luca... yeah, I like it. He's got strength. But, to be honest, I hope it's a boy. I've always imagined having a boy, someone to teach all the things I love."

Rafe looked at you tenderly, his hand reaching for yours and interlacing your fingers. "Whatever it is, I don't care. I just want him to be healthy and have your smile," he said in a firm and serene voice.

That simple comment made you feel an indescribable warmth in your chest. "He's going to be spoiled, you know that, right?" you commented in a playful tone, trying to lighten the conversation.

"Oh, I know," Rafe replied, laughing. "He's going to be the most spoiled child in the world, and you'll be the first to spoil him."

You burst out laughing, and looked at Rafe with a mix of love and determination. "And I wouldn't mind one bit," you added, as you moved closer to him and placed his hand on your belly, a gesture that seemed tender to you.

The days passed more peacefully than you had imagined. Tensions had calmed down, and you and Rafe were better now, and you were even going to move into his house. Sofia appeared from time to time, but her presence was no longer a concern for you; you had confirmed that Rafe had completely eliminated her from his life. That security gave you the peace you needed to move forward with your head held high.

In those days, it was decided to organize a family dinner at your father's house. The event was more than a simple meeting; it was a celebration of your engagement to Rafe and the arrival of the baby.

You invited Sarah and John B, knowing that their presence would make the evening even more special. You had noticed a change in Sarah since you shared about your pregnancies, and you felt a growing connection between the two of you. You wanted to reflect that new union, so you decided to prepare a gift for her, something small but meaningful.

That day the house was decorated with warm lights that illuminated the night, and the tables were adorned with simple but elegant arrangements. The aroma of freshly cooked food mingled with the breeze coming through the open windows. Guests arrived slowly, filling the place with laughter and lively conversation. Rafe stood by your side, attentive. The atmosphere was light, but there was a feeling in the air that everything was changing, that they were entering a different and exciting phase.

When Sarah and John B arrived, their smiles and welcoming words broke any hint of tension. You watched as Sarah instinctively caressed her belly, and a warm feeling ran through you at the thought that one day their child would play together.

As the hours passed, the evening exceeded all your expectations. The house, filled with light and laughter, reflected the life you had longed for. You felt safe and at peace, as if everything was finally falling into place. Throughout the evening, you saw Rafe interact with your family and guests. His eyes met yours from time to time, and in those moments you shared glances that said more than a thousand words: you were in this together, and that was the most important thing.

The conversations flowed naturally, sprinkled with anecdotes and comments that elicited laughter and smiles. Sarah and John B seemed more relaxed than you had seen in a long time, and you liked that, they too needed a moment of peace after everything they had been through.

Everything you had ever dreamed of was beginning to materialize before your eyes.

As the night progressed and soft music accompanied the voices that were held in quieter conversations, you felt Rafe's hand take yours under the table. It was his way of reminding you that you were where you belonged, and that, no matter what, they would be together. The evening, in your opinion, was perfect; a silent promise of what was to come.

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emjayewrites · 18 days ago

Text

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (12/15) - Part II

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @tremendousstarlighttragedy @henneseyhoe @serpenttines-library @f1-football-fiend

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

The warehouse stood inconspicuous amidst the arid Palm Springs landscape, its weathered exterior masking the creative pulse within. Inside, the vast space was a stark contrast - state-of-the-art sound equipment lined the walls, and a professional-grade stage dominated one end of the room. Soft, ambient lighting created an atmosphere conducive to artistic expression, while the air conditioning fought a constant battle against the desert heat.

Rorie stood center stage, her voice resonating through the cavernous space as she ran through the chorus of "The Zone."

"I never meant to make you feel alone, a non-chivalrous tone you've used since I got home..."

Ms. Tee, her vocal coach, nodded approvingly from the side, occasionally calling out suggestions. "Remember to support from your diaphragm on that high note, honey!"

Van, the choreographer, moved in sync with Rorie, demonstrating the fluid movements that would accompany the lyrics.

Rorie nodded, sweat beading on her forehead as she repeated the sequence. The knowledge that Beyoncé had once rehearsed in this very space for her legendary Beychella performance added an extra layer of pressure.

From his seat not far from the stage, Lyric's voice piped up. "Go, Mama!" he cheered, his little hands clapping enthusiastically.

Ms. Tee chuckled, shaking her head. "That baby is too cute!"

"And he knows it," Rorie quipped, shooting a wink at her son.

As they moved into the next song, Rorie's mind briefly wandered to the mysterious text she'd received weeks ago. The sender hadn't responded when she'd asked who it was, leaving her with an unsettling sense of curiosity.

After running through the set twice more, Yael called for a lunch break. The team dispersed, grateful for the respite from the intense rehearsal.

Rorie scooped up Lyric, making her way to a table laden with an array of healthy options. As she settled in next to Yael, balancing Lyric on her lap, she couldn't help but marvel at how surreal this all felt.

"So," Yael began, taking a bite of her salad, "have you given any thought to the Mercedes event? They're really pushing for you to be there for the G Wagon unveiling."

Rorie nodded, helping Lyric with his lunch. "Yeah, I think we can make it work. It's after Coachella, right?"

"Car!" Lyric exclaimed, pointing at Yael's phone which displayed an image of the new G Wagon.

Rorie laughed, ruffling his hair. "That's right, baby. It's a big car."

"He's growing up so fast," Yael remarked, smiling at Lyric. "Seems like just yesterday he was saying his first words."

Rorie nodded, a mix of pride and nostalgia washing over her. "I know. It's crazy how quickly they develop. He's stringing two or three words together now. The other day he said 'Mama sing pretty.' Nearly made me cry right there in the kitchen."

Yael chuckled. "Well, he's not wrong. Speaking of which, how are you feeling about the performance? Three songs is a lot, especially with the choreography."

Rorie took a sip of water, considering. "Honestly? I'm nervous as hell. But also excited. I've never been on a stage that big."

"You've got this," Yael assured her. "The rehearsals are going great, and the crowd is going to love you."

As they continued to discuss the logistics of the upcoming events, Rorie felt a familiar mix of excitement and nervousness. Coachella was a big stage, one that could make or break careers. She absentmindedly stroked Lyric's hair as she listened to Yael outline the schedule for the next few days.

"We've got two more full rehearsals here, then we move to the actual festival grounds for a tech run," Yael explained, scrolling through her tablet. "Lil Yachty's team will join us for the final run-through."

Rorie nodded, her mind already racing with all the details she needed to perfect. "What about wardrobe? Have we finalized the looks?"

"Almost," Yael replied. "The stylist wants to do one more fitting tomorrow. She's got some ideas for a quick change between songs."

As they delved into the intricacies of the performance, Lyric began to fidget in Rorie's lap. "Mama, play," he said, pointing towards the small play area they'd set up in the corner of the warehouse.

"Okay, baby. Just for a little bit," Rorie smiled, setting him down. She watched as he toddled off, his little legs carrying him with determined enthusiasm.

"He's handling all this travel and chaos like a champ," Yael observed, following Rorie's gaze.

Rorie sighed, a mix of pride and guilt washing over her. "Yeah, he is. Sometimes I worry it's too much, you know? But he seems to thrive on it."

"He's resilient, just like his parents," Yael reassured her. "Speaking of which, have you heard from Lewis? How's he feeling about the DNF in Australia?"

Rorie's expression softened at the mention of her husband. "He's frustrated, of course. But he's channeling it into preparation for the next race. You know Lewis, always looking forward."

Yael nodded, then added with a hint of sympathy, "It's a shame he'll miss your performance at Coachella though. The scheduling conflict is unfortunate."

"Yeah, it is," Rorie agreed, a touch of disappointment in her voice. "But he's got the GQ Global Creative Awards in New York that weekend. It's a big honor, and I wouldn't want him to miss that." She brightened a bit as she continued, "Besides, the Biebers will be there, and my sister's coming too. They'll make sure Lyric has plenty of support in the crowd."

"That's great," Yael smiled. "It's good to have your people there. And I'm sure Lewis will be watching the livestream, cheering you on from New York."

Rorie nodded, grateful for the support system she had. "Absolutely. We've always made it work, no matter the distance. This is just another one of those times."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of Lyric's delighted laughter. He had discovered a small ball and was attempting to bounce it, his coordination not quite matching his enthusiasm.

"Should we get back to it?" Rorie asked, her eyes still on Lyric.

Yael nodded, standing up. "Absolutely. Let's run through the transitions one more time before we call it a day."

As they made their way back to the stage, Rorie felt a renewed sense of purpose. The nerves were still there, but they were overshadowed by excitement and determination. This performance wasn't just about her; it was about showing Lyric that dreams were worth pursuing, no matter the challenges.

With one last glance at her son, happily playing in his own world, Rorie stepped onto the stage. The music began to play, and she lost herself in the rhythm, ready to give it her all. Coachella was waiting, and she was going to make every moment count.

_____________________________________________

Rorie cruised down the Palm Springs street, the desert sun casting long shadows as evening approached. From the backseat, Lyric's voice joined hers in a sweet, if slightly off-key, rendition of Daniel Caesar's "Get You."

As the song faded out, Lyric piped up, "Bwent!"

Rorie chuckled, shaking her head. "Being toxic isn't cute, sonshine." She skipped to Brent Faiyaz's "Clouded," the smooth R&B filling the car as they pulled up to their rental.

Waving to the security guard at the front gate, Rorie parked and unstrapped Lyric from his car seat. She held his hand as they made their way inside, Lyric gleefully jumping up each step to the front door.

Roscoe greeted them enthusiastically, and Rorie let Lyric play with the dog while she headed to the kitchen. After washing her hands, she pulled out pre-made cookie dough from the fridge.

"You want cookies, baby?" she called out.

"Yes, Mama!" came the eager reply.

Rorie scoffed, muttering, "Of course you do," as she arranged the dough on a cookie sheet.

Struck by a sudden craving, she grabbed a popsicle from the freezer. Then, following an odd impulse, she dug into the cabinet for chunky peanut butter. Scooping some onto the popsicle, she savored the unexpected combination of salty and sweet on her tongue as she slid the cookies into the oven, setting it to 380 degrees.

Just then, her phone rang. Seeing Martin's name on the screen, she hesitated before answering.

"Hello?" she said, her voice cautious.

"Rorie, hi," Martin's voice came through, a mix of nervousness and hope. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her tone neutral. "What's this about, Martin?"

"I... I wanted to talk to you. About Athena, about everything. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie paused, conflicted. "He's good," she finally said. "Growing fast."

"That's great," Martin said, his voice softening. "Listen, Rorie, I was hoping we could meet. I know things are complicated, but-"

"I don't know, Martin," Rorie cut in, glancing at the oven timer. "Things are pretty busy right now."

"Please," he pressed. "I want to make things right. I want to be part of your life, of Lyric's life."

Rorie sighed, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders. "I need time, Martin. This isn't something I can decide on a whim."

"I understand," he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. "But will you at least think about it? For real this time?"

"I'll think about it," Rorie conceded. "But I can't promise anything."

As she hung up, Rorie leaned against the counter, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. The timer dinged, jolting her back to the present. She pulled out the cookies, the sweet aroma filling the kitchen.

"Cookie, Mama?" Lyric's voice called from the living room.

"Almost, baby," Rorie replied, forcing a smile into her voice. "They need to cool first."

As she set the tray on the counter, Rorie took a deep breath. Coachella, Martin, the constant juggle of family and career - it was a lot to handle. But as Lyric's excited chatter drifted in from the other room, she knew she'd find a way to navigate it all. She always did.

The desert night hummed with anticipation as Rorie stood in the wings of the Coachella stage, her heart hammering against her ribs. The bass from the previous set reverberated through her body, but the nausea rolling through her stomach had nothing to do with the vibrations.

"Five minutes, Mrs. Hamilton," a stage manager called out, then paused, studying her face. "Hey, you're looking a bit pale. You okay?"

Rorie nodded, though her complexion said otherwise. "I'm good," she managed, willing her stomach to settle. Somewhere in the VIP section, she knew Lyric was watching with Aaliyah, the Biebers keeping them company.

"You sure?" The stage manager pressed. "You look like you might puke...."

"I said I'm good," Rorie cut in, more sharply than intended. She softened her tone. "Just pre-show jitters."

The opening notes of "The Zone" filled the air, and Lil Yachty's voice boomed across the festival grounds: "Y'all make some noise for my girl, Rorie!"

Taking one final deep breath, Rorie stepped into the lights. The crowd's roar washed over her as she emerged, and suddenly, the nausea didn't matter anymore. This was what she was born to do.

Her voice, clear and strong, cut through the night air. The choreography she'd practiced countless times flowed naturally, her body moving in perfect sync with the music. Each transition, each note, each movement came together in a performance that felt both carefully rehearsed and effortlessly spontaneous.

But as the adrenaline of the first song began to fade, that unsettling queasiness returned, stronger than before. Rorie pushed through, determined not to let it show. She had two more songs to go, and she was going to give this crowd everything she had.

The crowd surged with energy as Rorie finished her planned set, their cheers echoing across the festival grounds. Sweat glistened on her skin under the stage lights.

"One more! One more!" The chant built like a wave.

Rorie exchanged a glance with her band, a slight nod passing between them. As the opening notes of another song filled the air, the crowd's roar grew even louder.

But it was the second encore that would become the night's most talked-about moment. Rorie stepped to the microphone, her breath slightly catching as she spoke.

"Y'all have been amazing tonight," she said, her voice carrying across the field. "I want to share something special with you. A few years ago, my husband and I wrote this song together. Some of you might know him as XNDA…"

The crowd erupted at the mention of Lewis's musical alter ego. A smile played on Rorie's lips as she remembered the late nights in their home studio, the two of them writing and rewriting lyrics, finding the perfect melody to express their love story.

The stage darkened, and then a recorded voicemail played through the speakers: "Hey baby, just wanted to hear your voice…" Lewis's distinctive accent filled the space, intimate and warm.

The soft melody began to build, and Rorie's voice floated over the instrumental, telling their story of love found in the fast lane of life. When Lewis's pre-recorded vocals joined in for the chorus, their voices intertwined in perfect harmony, the chemistry evident even through the playback.

"When the world's moving too fast You're the one thing that lasts Through the curves and the breaks You're the risk I'll always take…"

The crowd swayed, phone lights dotting the darkness like stars. Somewhere in the VIP section, Rorie caught sight of Lyric on Aaliyah's shoulders, his little hands waving in the air.

As their voices rose together for the final chorus, Rorie felt tears prick at her eyes. This song, this moment, was everything - their love, their family, their journey, all wrapped up in melody and rhythm.

The final note hung in the air, and for a moment, there was complete silence. Then the crowd exploded, the cheers almost deafening. Rorie took a final bow, her heart full to bursting.

Walking off stage, she quickly checked her phone. A text from Lewis was waiting:

Killed it, baby. Wish I could've been there. So proud of you.

Rorie smiled, the nausea from earlier completely forgotten in the glow of the night's success. This performance would definitely be one for the books.

Following her triumphant performance, Rorie took a long drink of water before her bodyguards escorted her to the VIP section. Aaliyah immediately engulfed her in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her face.

"You were incredible!" Aaliyah sobbed, overcome with pride for her sister.

Rorie's own eyes welled up as Lyric toddled over, clutching a piece of paper in his tiny hands. "Mama!" he exclaimed, holding up his drawing of her on stage. "I love you, Mama," he said, his toddler pronunciation making the words even more precious.

Rorie dropped to her knees, gathering him close as tears spilled down her cheeks. The Biebers joined the group hug, everyone congratulating her on the spectacular show.

After a while, Justin excused himself to prepare for his set with Tems and WizKid. Rorie and Hailey settled into comfortable chairs, falling into easy conversation and shared laughter.

When a waiter approached, Rorie ordered vodka, water, and lime. "What about you, Hails?"

"Just water is fine," Hailey replied.

Rorie shot her friend a questioning look. "When do you ever say no to a drink?" she teased.

Hailey grew bashful, shrugging. "I'm fine with water."

"What's going on, Hails?" Rorie pressed.

Hailey opened her mouth to respond but closed it as the waiter returned with their drinks. Once he left, she gave Rorie a sympathetic look.

"I don't want to talk about it, Ror, especially with what's going on with you and Lew," Hailey explained.

"What do you mean?" Rorie asked, setting down her drink.

Hailey shrugged again. "With you guys going through IVF again… I don't think..."

"It's fine, Hailey. We're fine," Rorie assured her, taking her friend's hands. "It's okay."

"Honestly?" Hailey questioned.

"Yes, Hailey. It's fine."

They stared at each other in silence before Hailey opened her oversized leather jacket slightly, revealing a small rounded belly. "Justin and I are pregnant," she confessed, tears running down her face.

Rorie felt a complex mix of emotions - genuine joy for her friend tinged with a hint of sadness for her own situation. But happiness won out as she pulled Hailey into a tight hug.

"It's still early, though," Hailey said after they separated. "I'm barely ten weeks, but I'm showing really soon for some reason."

"It's a boy," Rorie said instinctively.

"How can you tell?"

"I was showing early with Lyric. It's definitely a boy and he probably has a big head," Rorie joked.

Hailey laughed. "Just like his father."

As their laughter subsided, Hailey grew serious. "I want you to be a godmother. You're an amazing friend and Justin and I love you so much."

"I would love to be the godmother, Hailey. Thank you," Rorie replied, wiping away fresh tears. "Damn, tonight is making me such a sap!" Hailey's smile widened. "But thank you. Seriously. Not only for asking me to be a godmother but sharing this and taking note of everything. I love you so much."

The two friends embraced again, the desert night wrapping around them like a warm blanket, full of joy, hope, and the promise of new beginnings.

The week after Coachella felt like a whirlwind. Rorie scrolled through her phone, taking in the flood of coverage about her performance.

@/MusicInsider: "Rorie's surprise performance of XNDA collab brought Coachella to its knees. The chemistry is undeniable, even through a recording. #PowerCouple"

@/ChartData: "Rorie's Coachella performance garnered over 2M livestream views, highest for a guest appearance this year."

Of course, there were also the less favorable takes:

@/PopCultureTakes: "Sure, she can sing. But is anyone else tired of the Hamilton PR machine? #Coachella"

Rorie rolled her eyes at the last one. Her nausea had finally subsided, and she was grateful to chalk it up to pre-Coachella nerves. With Lewis in Shanghai for his race, she missed him, but they had a packed schedule ahead - the WhatsApp collaboration in New York, Miami Grand Prix, and then the Met Gala. The thought of reuniting made her smile.

Stepping out of her G Wagon onto the black carpet at the Mercedes-Benz G-Class premiere, Rorie was immediately engulfed in camera flashes.

"Mrs. Mercedes! Over here!" "To your left, Rorie!" "Give us that smile, Mrs. Mercedes!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the nickname - an extension of what they called Lewis. As she posed for photos, a familiar figure caught her eye. Miles was making his way down the carpet, pointing at her with an exaggerated gesture. She returned the gesture, and he came bounding over. They posed for several shots together before heading inside, arm in arm.

"I didn't know you were going to be here!" she said as they stopped at the bar.

"Sort of last minute, honestly," Miles revealed. "But look at you, Miss Superstar - that Coachella performance though…"

"How was it?" Rorie asked, genuinely curious.

"Off the fuckin' chain, lil' sis. You did that."

"Thank you," she smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

As Miles and Rorie made their way through the event, they were stopped every few feet by familiar faces. Kendall Jenner pulled Rorie into a warm embrace, gushing about the Coachella performance.

"You absolutely killed it," Kendall beamed. "And that song with Lewis? Everyone's still talking about it."

Before Rorie could respond, Ciara joined them, her megawatt smile lighting up the space. "Girl, when were you going to tell me you were performing again? That was incredible!"

The conversations flowed easily, punctuated by genuine laughter and warm exchanges. Tracee Ellis Ross swept by, wrapping an arm around Rorie's waist as they posed for photos, while Snoh Aalegra complimented her vocal arrangements.

The evening progressed with typical Hollywood glamour - Travis Scott's performance had the crowd energized, the bass reverberating through the space as he commanded the stage. During dinner, Rorie found herself engaged in easy conversation with those around her, the kind of mindless chatter that filled these events.

As the night wound down, Rorie decided to head home early, missing Lyric and feeling the weight of the day settling in her bones. The drive started peacefully enough, the lights of LA streaming past her window as she thought about the upcoming reunion with Lewis.

Then her phone lit up with an unknown number.

Rorie hesitated before answering, but something compelled her to pick up. The moment she heard the voice on the other end, her blood ran cold.

"Rorie—"

"You must have a fucking death wish," Rorie cut in, her voice sharp with anger.

"Please, just hear me out—"

"I'm calling my lawyer," Rorie snapped.

"Wait!" Deja's voice was urgent. "I want to meet in Miami. We need to talk face to face."

"You've lost your rabbit ass mind!" Rorie couldn't believe her ears. After everything - the lawsuit, the leaked information, the media circus - Deja really thought they could just meet? The audacity was mind-blowing. Rorie clenched her jaw, her hand gripping her phone so tightly her knuckles went white. She could almost picture Deja on the other end, probably desperate, maybe even smug, as if she’d thought Rorie would just give in to this little stunt.

Deja doubled down. "I'm not settling until we talk. Face to face."

"I don't give a fuck what you want. We're going to win anyway - you violated my privacy, remember?"

They went back and forth, Deja pleading her case while Rorie's anger mounted. Finally, Deja suggested Rorie bring her lawyer if it made her feel better, but insisted they needed to meet.

"I'll think about it, bitch," Rorie spat before hanging up.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her hard. "Pull over," she managed to tell her driver, who immediately complied.

Rorie barely made it out of the car before emptying the contents of her stomach, her hands braced on her knees.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Hamilton?" the driver asked, concern evident in his voice.

Another wave hit her, and she groaned as a headache began to pulse behind her eyes. "Call my husband, please."

The driver quickly dialed Lewis, putting the phone on speaker just as Rorie retched again.

"Baby, are you okay? You're scaring me!" Lewis's voice rang out.

"It's Deja…" Rorie managed after a moment.

"What about her?"

"I'm going to kill that bitch, Lewis."

Lewis let out an exhausted "Fuck," followed by, "Let me call Julian."

Rorie stayed bent over, the cool night air doing little to settle her churning stomach. This night had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and somehow she knew it was just the beginning of whatever Deja had planned.

The Miami Grand Prix was a spectacle of color, sound, and energy—a vibrant mix of fans, press, and celebrities, all eager to catch a glimpse of the action on the track. Rorie moved through the paddock with an effortless confidence, dressed in a chic Tommy Hilfiger ensemble—a red mini dress paired with a tailored jacket that bore the iconic brand’s colors. As a Tommy Hilfiger ambassador, she was there to represent, but her mind was constantly pulled to her family, to Lyric, who was wide-eyed and curious, soaking in everything around him.

Julian, their lawyer, had been adamant about his involvement from the start. He wasn’t thrilled about the meeting, and honestly, neither was she—but at least they’d agreed that Julian would be there too, ensuring Deja wouldn’t pull any more stunts. When Julian had looked her in the eye and said, "We’re not letting her turn this into another circus," Rorie had felt an odd sense of relief. Knowing he’d be present gave her the peace of mind to enjoy the weekend with Lewis and Lyric.

Rorie’s attention snapped back to the present as she felt a tiny hand tug at her fingers. Lyric was pointing excitedly to the rows of cars lined up, his face lit with pure awe. She bent down to his level, taking in his excitement with a soft smile.

"Vroom! Vroom!"

"Yeah, baby," she murmured, brushing a soft kiss over his braids. "Those are Daddy’s friends’ cars."

"Where Dada?"

Rorie grinned. "He’s around here somewhere."

Just then, as if on cue, she spotted Lewis, looking impossibly focused and handsome in his race suit, his head bent as he spoke with one of his team members. When he looked up and saw them, his face transformed, a wide grin spreading across his features. He lifted a hand in greeting, then broke into an easy jog to close the distance between them.

"There’s Daddy," Rorie murmured to Lyric, moving aside so he could see his father approaching. "Look, sweetheart."

Lewis bent down, scooping Lyric up and spinning him around, making their son laugh with pure joy. Then, Lewis turned to her, his eyes softening as they met hers. "You’re a vision today," he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Rorie smiled, feeling her cheeks flush a little. "All part of the ambassador duty," she teased, tugging lightly on the lapel of her jacket.

The three of them shared a quiet moment, standing close amid the bustling paddock. For a while, it was easy to forget about Deja, about the upcoming meeting, about everything that threatened to intrude on this moment. But she could still feel the tension, a low hum of anxiety that sat just below the surface.

Julian’s text from earlier that morning flashed in her mind: Remember, we’re handling this our way. She doesn’t get to make the rules.

It was a reminder she clung to, something that kept her grounded even as she stole another glance at Lewis and Lyric. This weekend, she’d focus on them, on supporting Lewis and creating memories with Lyric. Whatever Deja had to say could wait—she wasn’t about to let that woman spoil the joy of watching her husband race, of seeing her son’s eyes light up in wonder.

But just as she settled into the moment, she heard a familiar voice calling her name. Turning around, she was greeted by the sight of KiKi, striding over with her typical swagger, dressed in a sharp, stylish outfit that turned heads as she passed.

Rorie raised her brows, genuinely surprised. "KiKi? What are you doing here?"

KiKi grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Lewis called me in for backup," she said with a shrug, flashing Lewis a knowing smile.

Lewis, still holding Lyric, gave a small, guilty grin. "Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra support this weekend," he said, adjusting Lyric on his hip. "Especially with everything going on."

Rorie couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief. Having KiKi around meant an added layer of support, someone who understood the intricacies of their situation with Deja and who would have her back if things got tense. But she was also wary; KiKi wasn’t exactly known for her subtlety, and Rorie wanted this meeting to be as low-key as possible.

"I don’t know if having you there is the best idea, though," Rorie said, keeping her tone light but firm. "You know how things can get."

KiKi put a hand on her hip, feigning offense. "Girl, please. I can be chill when I need to be," she replied, but the glint in her eyes suggested otherwise.

Rorie sighed, giving her friend a look. "I mean it, Ki. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a showdown."

KiKi held up her hands in a placating gesture. "Promise, I'll keep it cool. I’m just here to have your back. Besides, I’m curious to see what Deja’s got to say for herself."

Rorie gave a reluctant nod, knowing KiKi meant well. She’d always been fiercely protective, and Rorie knew that no matter what, KiKi wouldn’t let anyone disrespect her or her family. Still, she wasn’t entirely sure how Deja would react to seeing KiKi there.

"So, what’s the plan with her anyway?" KiKi asked, lowering her voice slightly. "You really think she’s trying to play nice?"

Rorie bit her lip, glancing over at Lewis, who was now trying to entertain Lyric with exaggerated car sounds. "I don’t know. She claims she wants to talk about boundaries, but I’m not sure I buy it. It feels like another setup."

KiKi snorted. "Wouldn’t put it past her. But hey, at least you’ve got Julian there to keep things on track. And me, if she tries any funny business."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for KiKi’s support even if she was apprehensive about the meeting. "Yeah. Julian’s already set some strict ground rules. We’re meeting in a neutral space, and he’s keeping it professional. He won’t let her turn this into another circus."

"Good," KiKi replied, crossing her arms as her gaze turned serious. "Just remember, she doesn’t get to call the shots here. You’re in control."

Rorie took a deep breath, nodding. "Right. I just don’t want her stirring up drama when all I want is to focus on this weekend with my family."

KiKi gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "You’ve got this, Ro. And if she steps out of line? Well, I’ll be there, chillin'... but keeping an eye out."

Rorie laughed, the tension easing slightly as she glanced back at Lewis, who had Lyric balanced on his shoulders now, the little boy giggling as he held onto his father’s head.

"Thanks, Ki. I appreciate you being here," Rorie said softly.

KiKi smirked. "Girl, you know I’d be here even if you didn’t want me to. Now, let’s enjoy the day and not let her mess with our vibe. Besides, your little one looks like he’s having the time of his life."

After watching Lewis' Free Practice, Rorie found herself alongside Mick Schumacher at the Tommy Hilfiger pop-up store in the paddock. Their easy rapport made the ambassador duties feel less like work and more like hanging out with a friend.

"The new collection's fire," Mick said, adjusting the collar of his Tommy polo. "But I think Lyric's stealing the show."

He wasn't wrong. Lyric, now dressed in a miniature version of the collection, was charming everyone who passed by.

After wrapping up the promotional duties, Rorie made her way to watch the F1 Academy practice sessions with Susie Wolff. The sight of female drivers commanding their machines around the track filled her with pride.

"It's amazing to see how far we've come," Susie remarked, her Scottish accent warm with emotion. "These girls are the future."

Lyric, perched on Rorie's hip, pointed excitedly at the cars. "Fast! Mama, fast!"

"That's right, baby. They're very fast," Rorie agreed, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Later, they ran into Kevin Magnussen near the garages. Lyric immediately perked up, looking around expectantly.

"L'waura?" he asked, his little face scrunching up in confusion when he didn't spot his friend.

Kevin laughed warmly. "She's with Mommy today, but we can FaceTime her later. Would you like that?"

"Yes!" Lyric clapped his hands excitedly.

The lightness of the afternoon stood in stark contrast to what awaited Rorie that evening with Deja. She wanted nothing more than to end whatever bullshit Deja was on, but she knew that not everything will be easy coming from her.

____________________________________________________

Later that evening, away from the excitement of the track, Rorie arrived at the offices of Ocasio & Associates, one of Julian's trusted colleagues in Miami. The sleek high-rise office space felt appropriately neutral and formal for what was about to unfold.

Julian was already there, reviewing documents when Rorie walked in with KiKi. They settled into the conference room, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the Miami skyline at dusk.

When Deja walked in with her lawyer, her face immediately darkened at the sight of KiKi. "What is she doing here?"

"I'm here for moral support, honey," KiKi drawled, her tone deceptively sweet.

Julian cleared his throat. "Let's focus on why we're here."

What followed was an hour of increasingly tense discussion. Deja insisted on rehashing her version of events from All-Star Weekend 2017, her voice growing more animated as she described what she claimed was a meaningful connection with Lewis.

"We had something real," Deja insisted, leaning forward in her chair. "Before she came along—"

"You're delusional," Rorie cut in, her patience finally snapping. "You had a drunken hookup - if that even happened - and now you're trying to rewrite history."

"You don't know what—"

"No, you don't know what you're talking about," Rorie stood up, her voice firm and final. "Julian, we're done here. No more settlement talks. Take her ass to court and drag her to fucking filth."

As they left the office building, KiKi fell into step beside her. "You good?"

Rorie nodded, her jaw set with determination. "I'm done playing nice. She wants to live in her fantasy world? Fine. But she's about to learn what reality feels like."

As they walked down the quiet Miami street, the humid evening air thick around them, Rorie suddenly felt her stomach lurch. Without warning, she lurched toward a nearby trash can, barely making it before emptying the contents of her stomach.

"Rorie!" Julian rushed out after them, producing a clean handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to her as she straightened up, her hand trembling slightly as she wiped her mouth.

KiKi was at her side instantly, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Girl, are you okay? What's going on?"

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to settle her churning stomach. "I'm fine," she managed. "Just stress, I think. This whole situation with Deja…"

"Nah, you need to calm down," KiKi said firmly, keeping her hand on Rorie's back. "This isn't worth getting sick over. Remember that wine bar we used to hit up when I lived down here? The one with the amazing cheese plates?"

Despite her queasy stomach, Rorie felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "God, that sounds perfect right now."

"Then let's go," KiKi decided, already steering Rorie toward the street to hail a car. "Julian, you good?"

Julian nodded, still looking concerned. "Call me if you need anything. And Rorie? Try not to worry about Deja. We've got this handled."

As they climbed into the car, Rorie leaned back against the cool leather seats, grateful for KiKi's steady presence beside her. Maybe what she needed right now wasn't more strategy sessions or legal talks. Maybe what she needed was just this - a night with her best friend, some good wine, and a chance to remember who she was beyond all the drama.

"Thanks, Ki," she said softly as the car pulled away from the curb.

KiKi squeezed her hand. "Always got your back, girl. Always."

TO BE CONTINUED....

#emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #private landing #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton x black reader #f1 driver x reader

117 notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 3 months ago

Note

I'm so glad I wrote these down.

Arrowroot for Jason with a❣️ bottle. I give you, reader and Jason with the same ✨️target✨️

*twirls my hair* Hehehe Jason hehehehe thank you for requesting, angel!! ❤️

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader/ Red hood x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), cw food mentions, cw violence, cw guns, tw death, FLUFF.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

A man walks into your crosshairs, seemingly looking normal except for his bespoke suit that costs three months worth of rent; and wearing a golden Rolex sitting on his unworthy wrist. He's about to have a very bad day, but you're about to get a very good payday once you put a bullet in his skull.

He exits the neon clad iceberg lounge with his entire entourage following right behind him. You smile, eye looking through the scope of your weighty sniper rifle, trigger finger itching as your target moves his head and hides behind a pillar. You hiss behind your clenched teeth, waiting for the right time to shoot. A breeze rushes past you, cold air nipping at your leather clad form.

Your target finally moves away, he walks towards his limousine parked in front of the club. But his wall of entourage is preventing you from shooting lest you hit them instead of the greedy and sleazy businessman. His wall of friends disperse, then for a split second his head tilts to the side as he ducks to enter inside the car, it's the window you've been looking for.

“Gotcha.” Aiming, holding your breath, you shoot.

Suddenly, a puff of red smoke appears right next to the car— startling everyone and making the man's bodyguard run into your bullet as he shields his boss. Your target panics, pushing his way inside the car before it speeds off into the night. You curse under your breath, scanning who threw the smoke bomb; and then you see him behind your scope. Clad in red leather and a helmet in the same hue, Red hood follows the limousine on his motorbike, gun raised and shooting at the bulletproof car.

You smirk behind your mask, annoyed and excited at the same time. You're about to have a high speed chase with your favorite rival.

Jumping off your perch, sniper strapped on your back, you run towards your motorcycle, you then quickly ignite the engine to accelerate and join the adrenaline filled chase. With the wind rushing past you, buildings whizzing past, cars honking loudly as you cut them off, you expertly dodge obstacles as you set your sights on the shiny red helmet in front of you.

Revving your engine, you catch up to him, riding side by side with the Red hood. He turns his head subtly, acknowledging your presence. You instead ride dangerously close to his bike, so close that you can nudge his leg with your foot in greeting.

“Nice day for a ride, huh?” You say casually above the whipping winds, while nonchalantly dodging a bullet from the limousine. “Didn't I tell you to stop stalking me, big red?”

You can tell he's smirking under his helmet. “I'm not stalking you, sweetheart.” His arm muscles threaten to escape from its leather confinement.

“Sure!” You sarcastically say, moving away briefly when a car gets in between you two. Shooting out the back tires of the target's limo, you return to his side. “It's all a coincidence that whenever I'm at a job you're also there.”

“Don't flatter yourself, this is an open contract. I'm allowed to be here.” Red hood tosses a blinking gadget towards the car, it beeps loudly when it hits the trunk. “Besides, where's the thrill in hunting alone?”

Chuckling, you resist the urge to smack his bicep. “A bomb, really? Not subtle at all!” You both continue to weave and bop around just trying to catch up to the mark. Good thing the roads aren't too occupied at three a.m or this would end very badly with a lot of costly damage.

“It's a classic!” He leaves you in the dust before you could quip back. You snort under your mask, immediately driving off with every intention to win. The smell of burning rubber and smoke fuels your adrenaline.

The chase takes you towards a drawbridge. You thought that the chase would've ended right there as the bridge is almost halfway into folding. But just as when it's about to fully close, the limousine accelerates to its highest attainable speed— it launches up, flying in the air before it lands on solid ground on the other side as sparks fly from its busted tires.

You brace yourself before jumping on the ramp, in your peripheral, you see Red hood do the same, but you did not expect him to kick the front of your tires, making you swerve and lose your momentum.

“Shit!” Thankfully, he didn't kick the bike too hard for you to crash. Hands tight around the handles, heart thumping loudly, you watch as he launches into the air and activates the bomb. You swear you even heard him cackle. With a bright explosion from the fleeing car, he lands safely on the ground.

You gotta hand it to him, he has style.

Recovering quickly after seeing him get off his bike, you turn yours around to take the longer route. With Red hood having the upper hand this time, you highly doubt that you'll get that payday. You're irked by what he did, but it is a competition. You finally get to them in record time, jumping away from your motorcycle before it could fully stop, you take out your pistol to aim at the flaming car. The belching smoke and flames prevents you from seeing the other side, slowly, you stalk around, turning the corner to reveal Red hood crouched in front of the target.

Scanning the area for threats, you thankfully find none. Letting your gun down to your side, boots thumping on heated asphalt, you sigh loudly so that he can hear your exasperation.

“You cheated.”

Red hood turns his head, tilting like a confused puppy. “Did not.” The target in front of him whimpers, cradling a broken arm and looking like he went through a chimney.

“Yes, you did!” You stomp your foot, “you kicked my bike! What if I crashed and burned on the side of the bridge?”

Red hood slowly turns his head menacingly towards the man. “Stay.” The man nods wildly. With a final pointed look, he stands up as the fire behind him burns and cackles, bathing him in its glow. He closes the distance towards you, body shielding you from the heat of the flames. “You alright?”

You huff, eyes roaming his featureless mask. But he can read yours as your mask only covers half of your face. The eyes are the window to the soul, and he's looking directly into yours. “... I'm fine, just fucking annoyed at you.” Kicking the toe of his boot, he inches closer to you, grasping your wrist in his gentle hold.

“I'm sorry, I got too into it.” His thumb presses down just below your palm, kneading tenderly and pushing your glove away to feel you.

“I had him, Jason.” Your voice is softer, whispering his name that's only for him to hear.

“I know you did if I didn't show up.” His free hand reaches up to your forehead, wiping away soot. “I didn't know you'd be here, I swear. I thought you'd be chasing the banker tonight instead.”

You lean closer, hand sliding up to his nape to bump your head against the cool surface of his helmet. “That's alright, and you're right, it was an open contract. And it was fun, chasing the same guy.” He hums, wishing that he could take his helmet off. You move away, watching your reflection on his helmet. “A little bit of a friendly competition wouldn't hurt.”

Jason chuckles under his mask, a muffled sound that wakes the butterflies in your stomach. “I was waiting for you actually. Care to share the bounty with me?”

You grin, eyes shining under the firelight. “Only if you pay for dinner tonight.”

“That's how it is then?” You nod with a hidden smile under your mask. He huffs, feigning annoyance. “Deal.”

And with that, you both walk towards the sniveling man bartering with the two of you. He offers cars, money, and even his own business partner in exchange for his life. If only he knew that the same business partner was the one who sent out the contract.

Aiming your gun with Jason mirroring your stance, bullets hit your mark in a thunderous roar of gunfire, and gunpowder smoke.

Jason inhales, finally free to take his helmet off. You look at him through your lashes, eyes roaming unabashedly over his chiseled features.

“God, you look marvelous in this light, Jay-bird.”

“In the fiery embers of a burning car?” He raises a brow. Hand already reaching towards you.

“Yep—” Stepping away from his touch, you see his shoulders slouch, and his frown etched on his face. “Nuh uh, pretty boy, you still gotta earn my affections back.”

Jason visibly relaxes at your teasing, rolling his eyes with a ghost of a smile. “Fine, I'll pick up dinner at that Thai place you love.”

“Order extra pho?” You flutter your pretty eyes at him. And just as you thought, it works as he walks over to you to place his head on your shoulder. “Jay?” Massaging his tensed back, your guilt eats at you. Maybe you shouldn't have teased him like that after a hard night. “Maybe just get something closer to—!”

He shuts you up with a chaste yet heavy kiss on top of your mask. You suddenly wish that you took it off just like he did his. “I’ll see you back home, yeah?” Cupping your warm cheeks, he flashes you his ten megawatt smile before it disappears under his crimson helmet once again. “Sweetheart?” He pokes your cheek as sirens erupt close to where you are.

With a breathy sigh, you pat his sturdy chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch.

“Race you there?”

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