#fred headers

[r2d2lover]

The Truth Slips

Paring: Fred Weasley X Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Shameless smut without plot. Loss of virginity. Prevalence of a drinking game.

Summary: request: “i wanted to request a fred oneshot where reader is shy/bashful and a virgin and fred's his usually cocky self but sorta fuckboy-eee and yanoo they do the dirty… my guilty pleasure”

My guilty pleasure as well. Fuckboy Fred is my creme de la creme. uncanon fun silly Fred one shot.

Part 2

You nervously watch the bottle in the middle spin around. And around. And around. Until it jolted with a stop on you.

Your glance hesitates as it trails up to meet the bottle’s spinner, who’s green eyes light up with glee.

“This is gonna be so good,” Fred Weasley exclaimed with a wicked smile. He leaned back on his elbows, waiting for your next move. Gulping nervously, you reach towards him wondering how a post-Quidditch party turned into a scene from your nightmares.

Everyone who decided to partake in the game whoops and hollers as you finally reach in the middle of the circle and claim your shot glass of the clear liquid. George had suggested that the house play “Veritaserum Roulette” with a stolen bottle of the potion. While preparing N.E.W.T-level potions was a grueling task, the fun came in seeing who was able to snag a bottle from the professor’s watchful eye to share amongst the house. You decided not to inspect your shot glass and threw the liquid back down your throat, then set the shot glass upside down on the ground like you saw in the Muggle movies. You immediately felt your face get hot but you knew it wouldn’t be because you ingested any serum, rather it was the pressure of having all the 7th year Gryffindor staring you down with intense concentration.

“S-someone has to ask a question,” You stuttered, picking the shot glass back up to fidget with it. Initially when the game was introduced, it was simply truth or dare. You could’ve easily backed out if that. Now, you couldn’t stop anything that was to come out of your mouth if you chose the glass with Veritaserum. You hoped that the two questions chosen for you would spare you any embarrassment.

“Do you fancy anyone at this moment?” Angelina leaned forward, taking her hands off of Fred. She was laying herself across Fred all night, non-discreetly showing off the fact that she was his latest… “conquest” as you overheard one of his friends call the girls that swooned over the redhead. Fred shot to popularity after bringing the Gryffindor Quidditch to back to back championships and it only inflated his ego more so than it already was. Despite his poor reputation, you couldn’t deny that the girls dreaming about Fred were warranted in their pursuit. Fred and George didn’t become the star Beaters without a rigorous workout regiment that hardened their muscles and broadened their shoulders. Their rugged appearances paired with their reliable and goofy personalities made them unstoppable.

Fred also happened to be your first friend at Hogwarts, finding you crying after a particularly embarrassing flying class during your first year. He sat with you and assured you that it wasn’t a show of your skills but the result of faulty school broomsticks. From that day, Fred guided you on flying while you tutored him in Potions.

All this time later, you didn’t need flying lessons anymore, but Fred still needed Potions help. You would never admit it, but your favorite part of the week was sitting in the library with Fred absolutely engrossed in homework. You would steal glances as he nipped the end of his quill in deep thought or when he would push his falling hair out of his face. Fred’s worst trait was his lack of spatial awareness and he’d always lean in too close while you explained the more difficult concepts to him. He was always chewing a sharp minty gum and smelled of a piney cologne that reminded you of Christmas. It distracted you often and made you turn beet red when he noticed the change in your diction. This would only make Fred lean in closer, inquiring about your odd behavior. All this time, you fought off any feelings you could have developed because you were realistic. You weren’t the Quidditch player, social butterfly types that Fred dated. Angelina was a prime example. Speaking of her, your desperate attempt to avoid answering her question was null and void when you felt as if you were being puppeted to speak.

“I do,” You squeaked out. Your hands flung to your mouth, but the attempt was feeble. Everyone quickly muttered amongst themselves to figure out the next question to ask you. At this moment, you felt like a criminal on trial. The easy next question was “who?” but the chatter alluded to a deeper question. It surely appalled everyone that you had a crush. You largely avoided the dating scene despite the relentless attempts from Oliver Wood. You thought Oliver was sweet and went on a singular date with him last year, but he was only focused on Quidditch. Much like Fred.

“Who is it? Is it Oliver? If it isn’t, who?” A younger Gryffindor blurred out in excitement and you felt the same puppet feeling in your gut and as you began to answer, Fred reached over and clamped his hand on your mouth. Your face was burning so hot at this moment you were sure you were sweating.

“Hey! We can only ask one more questions. We gotta make them good. Don’t answer those,” Fred instructed, removing his hand from your face. He brushed a piece of hair that fell out of place back behind your ear, making your stomach flip. This was such a ridiculous feeling. “Did you ever bed Oliver?”

“No? N..no!” You raised your eyebrows at Fred, appalled he would ask such a question. Once you opened your mouth, more words flowed out like a broken faucet. “I’ve never bedded anyone. Oliver was always on the Quidditch Pitch and it isn’t exactly the sexiest place in the castle.”

Your statement made the room laugh, which only increased your self consciousness. You shrugged and admitted you weren’t embarrassed at the fact for never having done anything with Oliver or any man. You were already covering your face with both hands, definitely sweating at this point. The group decided to refill on butterbeer, leaving you to seal your mouth shut with a cup of water. Fred stayed next to you, his green eyes filling with a mischievous glint.

“Has the Veritaserum worn off?” Fred asked, tilting his head up to look at you. He kept unwavering eye contact that made your mind go blank.

“Not yet,” You answered, still under the influence of the potion. Hopefully Fred wouldn’t press any further or that it would wear off before then.

“Ah… So, while I have you here, you really never slept with Oliver?” Fred leaned in closer, a smirk forming across your face. You shook your head and reaffirmed what he already knew. “Why not? And don’t give me the Quidditch answer.”

“I was waiting for the right person,” You said lamely, unable to fight the potion’s effect. Fred lifted an eyebrow.

“You’ve never fantasized?” Fred blocked you from grabbing a cup of water that would render you voiceless.

“Not about Oliver. Wh-why are you asking?” You fought your thoughts hard to answer Fred’s question as vaguely as possible.

“Hey, I thought I was asking the questions here. I just wanted to know what makes the timid girl that tutors me in Potions tick,” Fred moved so close to you that you could clearly smell his cologne. Luckily, his statement wasn’t laced with a question and the potion took no effect, allowing you to shake your head shyly.

“So you said not Oliver, so who do you think about?” Fred figured out how to narrow his question and before you could stop, your mouth betrayed you.

“Us,” You said, feeling like you broke the dam. Fred’s eyes grew wide, but his body language didn’t change. You were waiting for him to recoil out of instinct or turn red. But he continued to look at you coolly, turning a cup of butterbeer in his hands. Your heart jumped to your stomach and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your flight instinct kicked in, but before you could flee from the conversation, Fred grabbed your arm and forced you back down.

“What do you think about us?” Fred’s eyes darkened with an excitement you’ve never seen before. Arousal. You could only take a big gulp before your dirty fantasies about the boy you tutored that you kept locked away spilled out of your mouth for the world to hear.

“I think about you sliding a hand up my skirt in the library. Telling me to be quiet. I want to kiss you until I can’t feel my lips. I want to see you without a shirt on. I think about you pulling my hair back to look at you while you f-“ Your mortification overtook your entire body and you collapsed before you could finish your sentence with a yelp. Fred took a hold of you before you could hit the wall, making sure to take a long look at you. His face still had the cocky smile that you’d grown to love. His strong arm that was wrapped supportively around your waist and got tighter as he tried to figure out his next question. Your squirming didn’t help and you had no choice but to be stuck in his investigation.

“Are you thinking about it right now?” Fred’s eyes flitted from your eyes to your lips and if your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest, you would’ve had half the mind to kiss him.

“Yes,” You practically slurred, unable to calm down from the situation unfolding before you. Fred ran a comforting hand up and down your back, soothing your nerves only slightly.

“Do you want to go up to my room to show me some of these fantasies?” Fred said blatantly. Of course you did and of course you let him know.

“Yes but,” You took a large inhale trying to ease your racing heart. “But what about Angelina?”

“I don’t want her. I want you,” Fred said definitively, sending a chill down your back. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to pressure you into anything just because you don’t have control of your thoughts right now.”

“I want you, Fred,” You said with a confidence that surprised even you. The words were genuine, the feeling of being puppeted by your mouth was gone. As you focused on Fred’s words and realized what he was proposing, you felt a simmering heat between your thighs and that you had been rubbing your thighs together to cause a reliving friction between them. But the clarity brought another realization. “You… you don’t even like me. I’m. I’m not going to be one of your conquests or whatever.”

“Gods, really are clueless are you?” Fred laughed at your out-of-character quip. He used his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. “Did you really think I was spending all this time in the library thinking about Potions? Why the hell would I take N.E.W.T-level Potions if I was bad at it? I just had to pretend enough for you to keep studying with me.”

Fred’s confession stunned you silent. Without second thought, you wrapped your arms around Fred’s neck and leaned forward to meet his lips with yours. He gave an amused noise, kissing you back gladly. The kiss was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You were fulfilling a need you didn’t know you had, pressing deeper and deeper into the redhead’s mouth. Fred skillfully nipped at your bottom lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth when you moaned at the unfamiliar feeling. You were a little intimidated by his knowledge and your lack thereof, but the hand he was rubbing on your waist made you forget about anything besides him. He started to move a hand towards your chest and smirked wildly when you whimpered because he pulled away.

“My room. Now,” Fred said breathlessly, practically dragging you up the stairs. He hastily cast a locking and silencing charm before pushing you on the bed. Fred hovered over you, obviously delighted by your misshapen appearance. He had you pinned to the bed with one leg between your thigh and his arms at either side of your head.

The burning in your stomach only grew and Fred continued to kiss you, tasting every bit of you. He snaked a hand up your shirt, palming you through the fabric of your bra. When you least suspected it, he pulled the fabric down, pinching your firmed nipple in between his forefinger and thumb. The sensation made you moan loudly into his kisses and buck your hips up on his thigh.

“That’s a good girl,” Fred purred, continuing to flex his fingers around your breast. “Stop me if you want at any moment.”

“Take off your clothes,” Your voice was so whiny with need that you hardly recognized it. Fred only chuckled and moved his hand away from your chest to start removing your clothes instead of his. You batted his hand away and ran your fingers down his broad chest. You slowly undid his buttons, shaking from nervousness and exhilaration. Every button revealed more of his tanned muscular body that made your mouth watered. Fred continued supporting himself over you, enjoying your desperation.

When you finally managed to shed his shirt, you could barely focus. Your eyes trailed down his chest to the trail of hair on his stomach that pointed directly to the tension in his pants.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” You admitted to Fred, tangling your hands in his hair nervously.

“It’s okay. I think it’s time for me to teach you something to thank you for the last few years,” Fred said cockily, amazing you at how he stayed the same while you were falling apart under his touch. He quickly removed your clothes, tossing them somewhere in the middle of the room.

You felt vulnerable laying there in only your underwear, but Fred dragged his Quidditch-calloused hands down your body as he planted reassuring kisses on your mouth. His mouth followed his hand down until his lips were biting at the sensitive skin of your neck and his hand was rubbing circles on the soft skin of your inner thigh. You moved your hips down to meet his hand pleadingly and he took pity on you.

Fred moved his hands up to feel your arousal, circling his finger just around the bundle of nerves that begged to be touched. He knew exactly what he was doing and held your hips down with his free hand when you let out a whining groan. After teasing you, Fred slipped your underwear to the side, dragging his middle finger up your slick.

“Just how long have you been fantasizing about me?” Fred joked, breathing in as you moaned. He was barely making any movements and he had you reacting like this. Fred dragged his finger back and forth a few times before slowly pressing his middle finger into you, making sure to look up at you in order to spot any discomfort. You squirmed a little at the feeling, but once Fred started curling his finger, your body relaxed around the pleasure.

“More,” Your head sunk into Fred’s bed as your body grew accustomed to the feeling. Fred audibly smirked as he slipped his ring finger in as well, kissing you deeply. You realized his pants were still on and his fingers were speeding up from impatience. You reached down tenderly, running your fingers gently over the tent in his pants. He let out an airy breath before breaking the kiss to look at you.

“Feel it,” Fred encouraged you. His working fingers paused as he directed your hand with his free hand to his pants. Fred placed his hands on top of yours, simulating a squeeze. You copied his movement, earning a low groan from him. “Fuck… I need you right now.”

You shed your undergarments as Fred fumbled with his belt, too overtaken with lust to focus on unclipping the buckle. He finally released the leather binding and dropped his pants quickly, letting his cock fall as well. You watched with big eyes and Fred took your hand again to wrap it around his base.

“Just like that,” Fred praised as you moved your hand up and down. The friction was uncomfortable for you, so you pulled your hand back to lick a stripe up your palm and return it to his cock. The action made Fred roll his eyes back into his head and let his head drop as you continued to pump your hand up and down. “You’re so good, baby.”

Fred’s praise only made you want him more and the wanting in between your thighs got to be unbearable. As Fred was closing his eyes in bliss, you sneakily reached a hand down towards your folds to mimic his earlier actions in an attempt to ease the pressure. Fred felt you moving and quickly opened his eyes, catching you in the act. He tsked and removed your hand, pinning it by your head.

“Impatient are we, love?” Fred chuckled, sending vibrations through your stomach.

“Please,” You begged. “I want to feel you.”

Fred was impatient as you were and shifted his weight back to line himself up with your entrance. You were filled with such an excitement and nervousness that you subdued by reaching up for a kiss. Fred dragged the head of his cock against your slick folds, almost as if he was waiting for permissions.

“Fred. Fuck me,” You drawled, dizzy from anticipation. Fred let out a string of curses, then entered with a slow thrust. You let out a cry at the satisfying pain of feeling your walls stretch around Fred. He checked in again with you to make sure you were comfortable and you gave him a kiss on the cheek for assurance.

“You feel so amazing,” You slurred, eyes shutting from the pleasure. Fred slowly rolled his hips against yours, intertwining his hands with yours. He still had your hand pinned against your head and he was starting to lean forward, delivering soft grunts to your ear.

“You’re so… tight,” Fred mused aloud. You bucked your hips up to meet the friction the penetration was creating and Fred took that as a sign to go faster. He picked up his rhythm that made you sing a chorus of moans that melted into his name. Fred let curses fall out of his mouth and he picked up the speed of his thrusts, fully fucking you into the bed. Your cries only encouraged him.

Fred planted his lips on yours, creating a messy and heavy kiss that dripped with want. You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging whenever he would move to a certain spot that made your vision blur. A knotted feeling built up in your stomach like you never felt before.

“Fred… I- I’m-'' Fred understood what you were trying to get at and dropped a hand to your clit, rubbing soft circles that only tightened your stomach. With a cry, you broke from his interlocked hand and wrapped your arms around him as you nipped at his shoulder from the immense wave that washed over you. Fred laughed with such confidence it brought you back to life as he slowed down his thrusts.

“I’m almost there. Do you want me to keep going?” Fred panted, brushing a hair out of your face and kissing you on the forehead.

“Yes, please,” You relaxed back, feeling absolutely crazed. Fred dropped his head again and you reached up to trail kisses down his neck. “You fuck me so well, Fred.”

Your praise sent Fred over the edge and he unsheathed himself with a groan, spilling himself on your stomach. Fred collapsed beside you with a heave, then moved quickly to help clean you off. He climbed back into bed with you, pulling you close with a kiss.

“Telling the truth pays off, huh?”

“That, or Potions class.”

[cratoons]

Trick or Treat, Scooby-Doo, (2022).

[ecnmatic]

Fear Street: 1994 (2021) dir. Leigh Janiak.

[slashericons]

Y2K (2024)

[fnafhs-aesthetics]

Halloween headers for anon!

-Mod Golden.

[trashedits]

scooby doo

[sinnerjannik]

team usa (men’s artistic gymnastics) headers

like/reblog if you save x

- requested (part I) 🇺🇸

[leqclerc]

Wow, it's almost as if firing Xavi didn't magically fix all the existing communication issues at Ferrari 🤔

[meladora]

if you like my content please consider buying me a coffee «3 https://ko-fi.com/meladora do not claim as yours, please credit !

[doom-dreaming]

Blue Team Beach House: Overview

So you're a supersoldier in the UNSC and you're being ordered to take mandatory R&R and for the first time in his life, your squad leader doesn't finagle some way to avoid this. But you're sick of being shipped off to places that aren't built for you (because there was that one time you broke a whole couch) but the UNSC hasn't gone out of its way to make a vacation resort for Spartans (because when do they ever go on vacation, right? Ha.) And you're sitting on a lifetime of hazard pay, more money than you know what to do with, but hey...actually, this time you do know what to do with it. You're gonna build a house on the prettiest white sand beach in the galaxy, specifically for you and your Spartan siblings because if the brass is forcing you to take some shore leave, then goddamn it, you're gonna take that literally.

Welcome to the (actual, official) series of Blue Team Beach House posts. If you made it through that whole opening paragraph and still don't know what I'm talking about: I want Blue Team to fucking relax, so I imagined a (beautiful, unrealistic) timeline in which they'd be able to custom-build a vacation home to use when they need a break (and to eventually retire to? Like I said, unrealistic).

The idea is that they'd do their best to tailor it to their own preferences and truly make a place designed by and for Spartans. And then I started thinking about this so hard I had to build the dang thing in Sims. So that's what this is. It's me showing off pics of a fun beach house build and bullshitting about why the architecture and design are (mostly) Spartan-Approved(tm) based on what we know about them from Halo canon. And if you're wondering, yeah, I do things like this for fun more frequently than you'd think.

CONSIDERATION 1: LOCATION

Spartans are always thinking strategy. They can't turn it off. So naturally, if they were making a place where they'd be relaxing - somewhere they'd have their guard down - they'd want it to be naturally, geographically safeguarded, in case there were an attack (hey, you never know). What's better than a narrow strip of land from the front and a reef in the back to discourage access from the water? They wanted to have an anti-aircraft missile system on the roof, but their design team said no. They settled for solar panels instead. (Note that the roof edging the third floor is also made of solar paneling. We know green energy is standard in the 26th century.)

CONSIDERATION 2: FUNCTIONAL ARCHITECTURE AND EFFICIENT USE OF SPACE

They might have the funds to make this a reality, but that doesn't mean they're going to build superfluous balconies when they can just use the roofs of the floors below for deck space. It keeps things compact without being cramped.

Also, see those pretty wood slat facade pieces on the corners of the first and second floor? Not only are they a nice design touch, but they're also makeshift ladders. Need to get to the roof very quickly from the outside? Climb the fucking walls. Let's be honest, they'd do this for fun.

CONSIDERATION 3: OUTDOOR SOCIAL AREAS

It's canon that John is a little claustrophobic. Yeah, he can fight it off, but he doesn't like spaces that are too small for him. I'd venture a guess that this is common for most Spartans, just by virtue of them being nearly seven feet tall. That said, given the options, I think they'd much rather be outside than inside, even if that inside was built to their standards of comfort. What's better than a nice big porch to hang out on and enjoy the gorgeous tropical weather?

Glass railings keep their view open and unobstructed - great for defense (again, you never know). The furniture is sturdy, either sculpted metal or durable wood (with the exception of some pieces that don't have to support a Spartan's-worth of weight). These themes will show up in other areas of the house, too.

Oh, and the vertical wall planter in the corner? Strawberries. What's better than a self-sustaining food source to cut down on trips into the city for groceries? This is only the tip of the iceberg on edible plants, by the way. Just wait.

Things stay well-lit at night, because even though they can see near-perfectly in the dark, it's easier to relax when you know what you're looking at. And while those palm trees are nice landscaping, they're also great for climbing (and coconuts).

[gurizpacks]

like ou (c) jogodoamor

[valyrfia]

I’ve been thinking about it, and I now firmly believe that Charles signed a pre-contract with Red Bull in the week before COTA. Initially, he did it with the intent of putting pressure on Ferrari but then over the course of the triple header he slowly started to realise that maybe honouring that pre-contract MIGHT be his best chance at a WDC. This is heavily reflected in the socials and PR of Red Bull, Ferrari, and Charles himself and ties together all the Lestappen interactions of the past couple of months from Max’s answers at press conferences to the infamous padel date. Buckle up, because it’s going to be a ride.

So I believe to pinpoint the start of the current PR wave/movement that we've coined as Lestappen Gate 2023 we have to look all the way back to Monza. Around Monza, there were numerous rumours that a huge Charles contract renewal was imminent and it was going to be announced, etc. etc. Charles did put these rumours to bed by saying if there were a contract like the one that had been rumoured, he would've signed it immediately. Now, I believe that with Charles confirmed to be unsigned (at around the same time that the George/Lewis and Oscar renewals would've been happening), Red Bull Racing approached Charles to reopen talks.

But I think Charles stalls them, isn't open to talks, until Singapore where Carlos Sainz wins. This throws Ferrari into complete disarray as Fred suddenly can't open talks with Charles as it would then be clear that he will not be re-signing Carlos Sainz. I think it then becomes obvious to Charles and his team that in order for the contract talks to begin they need pressure to negate Santander and the Sainz family breathing down Ferrari's throat. So Charles actively enters talks with Red Bull with the intent of putting that pressure on Ferrari. Also worth noting, Singapore also marked Charles as something special, a generational talent who is also willing to be an exception n2 driver when the team requires it of him, especially when his teammate starts on pole. I think this makes Red Bull even more eager to begin talks with Charles. Interestingly, this is where we get the first Red Bull Lestappen post of this current era, the Lecstappen alert.

This brings us through Suzuka to Qatar, Max winning his 3rd WDC, Charles congratulating him and then effuse about Max and Red Bull in interviews. Seeing the level of success that Max has had is what pushes Charles to decide that he is going to sign a pre-contract with Red Bull for a seat in 2025 because either way, he wins. He either manages to put pressure on Ferrari to get a contract with all the clauses he wants (external brand deals, his own branding, car development to suit him, etc.) OR he gets the MOST talked about seat in F1.

Now this is a key point. I believe the padel date was an excuse to get Max and Charles in the same room. Specifically, for them to have a frank and honest chat about whether they could work as teammates and two n1 drivers on the same team. This is probably the first serious heart to heart that these two have had, which then explains their attitude and closeness in the triple header and them being more ready to be vulnerable and honest with and about each other. Then, in the week before COTA, satisfied that he could be teammates with Max if push came to shove, Charles Leclerc signs a pre-contract with RBR for 2025.

(It's also worth noticing that in the week before COTA, the Lando Norris to RBR rumours and talk noticeably died down, despite Oscar winning the sprint in Qatar).

Now this brings us to COTA, where Charles instantly starts to make PR moves to build a brand for himself. His first big move is signing with WME, a talent agency, and something that Ferrari drivers typically aren't allowed to do. The WME signing solidifies in my mind that a pre-contract exists, because if there is one thing Charles wouldn't do, it's jeopardise his chances of racing in F1. If there's a chance that Ferrari would drop him for this, he just wouldn't do it. However, if he has a guaranteed seat in 2025 no matter the outcome, he would totally do it. It must be said, I believe that Charles is using the pre-contract fully as leverage against Ferrari at this point UNTIL the strategy fuck up. After the strategy fuck up, Charles is noticeably angry and outspoken about it, and Fred starts to freak out a little bit. RBR in the mean time, are starting to try and change the Lestappen narrative from rivals to a duo, with Charles starting to feature heavily on RBR socials.

Moving on to Mexico, Charles does well, considering. But what's important about Mexico is that this is the first time that Charles has truly been treated like a villain by the fans at the track. This is key, not only because of RBR's reaction to it (which I will explore), but also because this is Charles's first taste of what a move to RBR could be like, of what it would feel like were he to become the antihero rather than the golden boy of F1. However, the real clincher is that rather than RBR playing into the narrative of Charles the villain, even despite him literally being involved in the DNF of their own driver (Checo) at his home race, they instead make sure to capture all angles of Charles and Max interacting and one of their own pays special attention to Charles on the podium. In a way, this is the weekend that shows Charles that even though Red Bull and Ferrari are completely different, Red Bull can still be as much of a family to him as Ferrari has been if he wants them to be. Moreso, in fact, considering Ferrari didn't even bother showing up to Charles's P3 podium.

So entering the weekend in Brazil, Charles is pictured wearing his own clothing line that it was rumoured Ferrari forced him to discontinue and Fred Vasseur is starting to get shit scared and starting to talk to anyone from media who will listen about how talented Charles is. Charles does put it on the front row, but there's no real Forza Ferrari about it, and Charles has stopped wearing Ferrari merch in the paddock. A Red Bull employee (Max's PT Brad) is the first person to congratulate Charles on the front row.

Then, the DNS happens. A completely avoidable thing that happened due to Ferrari incompetency, and all hell breaks loose. Charles leaves the paddock before he can finish his Ferrari PR duties like a post-race video, and makes it very clear that he is FURIOUS in all his interviews. Now, laughably, at this point is when Ferrari-Charles contract negations began, or at least, that's what was leaked to the media. In my mind, Charles communicated very clearly to Fred at this point that his pre-contract with Red Bull is a very real threat, and Charles himself is beginning to seriously consider honouring it, and if Ferraro don't get together, they WILL lose their Il Predestinato to Red Bull. At this moment, Fred Vasseur is absolutely terrified. The world is very obviously on Charles's side and sympathetic after the DNS, while being at best apathetic and at worst hostile toward the Scuderia. Meanwhile, Red Bull continue with their Lestappen antics across all social media channel, again publicising the idea that Max and Charles are close and may have once been rivals but are buddies now, like in their tiktok of Max doing the "just an inchident" trend.

Now I haven't mentioned the onboards yet, which were spotted by some eagle eyes fans during the Mexico and Brazil GP weekends, in which Charles's onboard was displayed very clearly alongside their actual drivers, Max and Checo. But the existence of the onboards on the Red Bull pitwall make perfect sense if Charles did sign a pre-contract. Red Bull are gathering data to sway Charles further, almsot a "yeah so here's exactly where Ferrari fucked your race, and here's is what we would've done differently."

The break in the triple header, Charles is noticeably refraining from Forza Ferrari-ing. Rather, he calls the paps on himself on more than one occasion and make sure he is seen with several high profile celebs, strengthening his public image and building his own narrative. Meanwhile, Ferrari is in full damage control mode, taking responsibility for the DNS, acknowledging Charles in a way they haven't fully done since Singapore. There are more leaks of contract negotiations, but Charles does not engage with them. Meanwhile, Red Bull are keeping up their Lestappen propaganda. Charles is making it clear to all parties that this pre-contract that he initially intended to just be a bargaining chip has suddenly become a serious threat to Ferrari.

Finally, this brings us to last weekend, Vegas. Charles, again, refuses to Forza Ferrari. Ferrari PR have put Charles and Red Bull content on absolute LOCKDOWN with not a HINT of Lestappen anywhere, and Max is making comments about the choice of team being important in winning even for generational talents while Charles fidgets and looks away. Fred praises Charles to hell and back again, implying that Charles will obviously be prioritised over Carlos by diminishing Singapore, but in the post-race, Charles still gives nothing. Just a thinly veiled comment about how good it feels to be fighting at the front again. Meanwhile, Red Bull amp up the Charles content even more, even fully posting a picture just of Charles's car. There are also not one, but two questions about Max and Charles's karting past. In discussion with my academic colleagues (@tsarinablogs, @thearchercore, @gaslightgirlsummer (further thanks for all three of them, for entertaining a much rougher draft of this essay a few days ago)), we've talked about the possibility that these questions might have themselves been planted in the media rooms, in order to further cement the idea and control the narrative of Charles and Max, childhood rivals turned dynamic duo. The sort of narrative one might find intriguing around teammates.

So this concludes my essay. I am almost sure that Charles has a pre-contract with Red Bull, which is why he is suddenly so outspoken about the problems and failings of Ferrari. Although this pre-contract originally began as a bargaining chip, I believe that Charles is seriously considering honouring it. Ferrari are desperate, and Red Bull have the upper hand and are starting to pave the way for a media shift in how Charles and Max as a pairing are perceived.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Looks like a group of guys from your college won’t leave you alone.

Oh would you look at that,

1940’s!MobBoss!Bucky Barnes

has got your back, and will continue to have your back forever.

(Also hi babes!!! 🤗🤗Thousand kisses from me to you! 💋💋)

Have Your Back Forever And Always » 40s Bucky Barnes

Pairings: Mob Boss!40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky steps in and saves you from the guys in your friend group who won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: Fluff, language, alcohol, smoking, unwanted touching, kissing, use of pet names

A/N: @amathslutsguidetofandom I love the thought of 1940s!Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes and decided to write it as a one shot🥰🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“No thank you.” You say, politely turning down a drink from one of the guys you go to college with.

“C’mon, sweetheart. It’s just one drink.” Gerald says, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Bucky watched from the other side of the bar as you continued to politely turn the guys down, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could tell how uncomfortable you were.

“It’s just a drink, Y/N.” Fred says, putting his hand on your thigh.

That made you even more uncomfortable than you already were. Bucky downed the rest of his drink and made his way towards you.

“She said no.” Bucky says, standing behind Gerald and Fred.

“No one asked you, man.” Fred says.

“Why don’t you run along?” Gerald says.

Bucky chuckled before grabbing the back of their necks and slamming their heads against the bar counter, making everyone in the bar go quiet and look at them. You quickly stood up and backed away with wide eyes.

“How about you two run along?” Bucky says.

They were too scared to say anything so they just nodded their heads. Bucky let go of them and they stood up. They were about to bolt out of the bar when Bucky grabbed the back of their shirts.

“If I ever and I mean ever see you two near her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your asses, got it?” He says.

“Got it.” They say in unison.

Bucky let go of them and they sprinted out of the bar. You stood there with a surprised look on your face. No one has never done that for you.

“Are you ok, ma’am?” Bucky asks softly.

“I am now. Thank you.” You say, giving him a smile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks.

“I’d like to know your name first.” You say.

“James Barnes.” He held his hand out for you to shake. “Everyone I know calls me Bucky.” He says.

“Nice to meet you, James.” You shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself. “Now that we know each other’s names, I’ll accept that drink now.” You say with a smile.

You and Bucky took a seat at the bar counter and he ordered you two drinks.

“So tell me, doll face…” Bucky took a sip of his bourbon before asking his question. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing at a bar like this?” He asks.

“I go to the local college and I wanted to come here for a couple drinks after all the studying I’ve been doing lately.” You tell him.

“What are you studying?” He asks curiously.

“I want to be a nurse.” You say.

“That’s amazing. I hope all that studying pays off.” He says.

“I hope so too. I graduate next month.” You say.

You learned that Bucky is one of the most powerful men in Brooklyn, New York. You and Bucky spent the whole night talking and getting to know each other till the bar was about to close. He even offered to walk you home from the bar. Bucky being the gentleman he is, wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you close to him and to protect you.

“Thank you for saving me and for walking me home, James.” You say with a smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, babydoll. I have your back forever and always.” Bucky smiles. “If you don’t mind, I would like to see you again.” He says.

“I would absolutely love that.” You smiled. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon after school.” You say.

“Great so it’s a date.” He says.

Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Your hands grasped his suit jacket to steady yourself. Your lips moved in sync with his. It felt like everything around you guys was in slow motion. Bucky pulled away slowly, looking deep in your eyes.

“See you tomorrow afternoon, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky.” You say, smiling widely.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (9/15)

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 @ffenthusiastt

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

CHAPTER 9: New Horizons

Rorie stood in front of the full-length mirror, admiring the sleek Tommy Hilfiger outfit she was wearing for the promotional photoshoot. The partnership felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the recent turmoil. She smoothed down the crisp white blouse, tucked neatly into tailored navy trousers, a look that perfectly blended sophistication with her signature laid-back style.

"You look stunning, Rorie," the photographer called out. Rorie smiled, ready to face the cameras.

This shoot in the Culver City studio was the final piece of her campaign with Tommy Hilfiger. Most of the work had been done in New York a few weeks back - a whirlwind three days of shooting on the bustling streets of Manhattan, in Central Park, and atop a skyscraper with the city skyline as a backdrop. Those images had captured the essence of the brand's urban chic aesthetic, with Rorie as the perfect embodiment of modern, dynamic womanhood.

Today's shoot was for some additional lifestyle shots - casual moments that showed off the versatility of the collection. Rorie moved through a series of poses, from lounging on a minimalist sofa to standing by floor-to-ceiling windows, the soft California light adding a warm glow to each frame.

Between shots, Rorie chatted with the styling team, discussing the collection and her excitement about the partnership. It felt good to focus on her career, to have something positive to pour her energy into after the recent drama. And speaking of it, Deja finally managed to shut her mouth and stay off of social media.

That bitch needs her ass whooped...maybe I should've let KiKi drag her.

A couple of days ago, many of her good friends, KiKi being one of them, came to her defense and even threatened to hunt Deja down and let her reap the consequences of spreading lies, but as usual, Rorie was above the nonsense, and decided against it. Unfortunately, the damage from Deja was already done, and making things worse was not ideal, especially for her lawyers. A mixture of messages, ranging from support to vitriol continued to arrive daily in her comments and DM's, so much so that she had to disable both to safeguard her mental wellbeing.

All in all, work and home life was a welcomed - and needed - distraction from all of the bullshit.

"That's a wrap!" the director called out after a few hours. Rorie let out a small sigh of relief. As much as she enjoyed modeling, it was always intense work.

As she changed back into her own clothes, her phone buzzed with a message from Lewis:

Dinner with Fred Vasseur tonight. Big news. Love you.

Rorie's heart raced. She knew what this dinner could mean - a potential move to Ferrari for Lewis. It was exciting and terrifying all at once.

Later that evening, Rorie and Lewis arrived at Spago, Wolfgang Puck's flagship restaurant in Beverly Hills. As they approached the table, Fred Vasseur and his wife, Marie-Laure, stood to greet them.

"Lewis!" Fred exclaimed, embracing Lewis warmly and kissing him on both cheeks. "And the lovely Rorie," he continued, offering her the same warm greeting.

Marie-Laure followed suit, her elegant perfume wafting as she leaned in to kiss Rorie's cheeks. "It's wonderful to see you both," she said with a genuine smile.

As they settled into their seats, the sommelier approached, and after a brief consultation, Fred ordered a bottle of Château Margaux. "To celebrate old times and new beginnings," he said with a wink.

They then perused the menu, and the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from Lewis's recent races to Rorie's upcoming partnership with Tommy Hilfiger.

"I can't wait to see some of the campaign photos," Marie-Laure commented. "You'll bring such vitality to the brand."

Rorie's cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you. It's been an exciting project to work on."

After their appetizers were cleared away, Fred leaned in, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "So, Lewis," he began, swirling his glass of wine. "How would you feel about wearing red in 2025?"

Lewis glanced at Rorie, who nodded encouragingly. She could see the spark of excitement in his eyes, but also a hint of hesitation.

"I've been thinking," Lewis began, his voice thoughtful. "I've been with Mercedes for so long, and Toto has been incredible. But we haven't been winning races or championships lately, and I'm not getting any younger."

Fred nodded understandingly. "We know it's a big decision, Lewis. But we believe Ferrari can give you the car to claim those additional World Driver's Championships before you retire."

Lewis leaned forward, his expression serious. "If I come to Ferrari, I want to do more than just drive. I want to implement DEI trainings, make the team more inclusive, like I did at Mercedes."

"Absolutely," Fred agreed enthusiastically. "We've been impressed by your work off the track as much as on it. Your vision aligns perfectly with where we want to take Ferrari."

Rorie watched the exchange with pride, seeing Lewis's passion for both racing and social change shine through.

"It's not just about the championships," Lewis continued. "It's about leaving a lasting impact on the sport and the team."

Marie-Laure smiled warmly. "And that's exactly why we want you, Lewis. Your influence extends far beyond the racetrack."

As the main course arrived, they delved deeper into the details - the contract terms, the vision for the future, and the potential impact Lewis could have on the team culture.

By the time dessert was served, the foundations of a deal were firmly in place. As they said their goodbyes, with promises to finalize everything in the coming weeks, Rorie felt a mix of emotions washing over her. This move would be huge for Lewis's career and his broader goals, opening up new opportunities and challenges.

The drive back to their Malibu home was quiet, the usual LA traffic surprisingly light. Lewis held Rorie's hand tightly as he navigated the nighttime streets, the city's lights twinkling around them. Despite the silence, Rorie could sense the nervous energy still bubbling within Lewis. His thumb absently traced circles on her hand, a telltale sign of his racing thoughts.

Once home, they relieved Nina and settled in the backyard, watching the waves crash against the beach in the distance. The rhythmic sound of the ocean provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"It's a big change," Rorie said softly, breaking the silence.

Lewis nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "It is. But it feels right, you know? A new challenge, a chance to make a real difference."

They talked about the potential move to Ferrari, the excitement and the apprehension intertwining in their words. The conversation then shifted to the ongoing situation with Deja.

"I still can't believe she did this," Lewis said, shaking his head.

Rorie sighed. "I know. And even though KiKi wants to fight Deja, she's still acting weird herself."

"What do you mean?"

"Tia told me that KiKi's back with her ex," Rorie replied hesitantly.

Lewis's brow furrowed. "Khalil?" When Rorie nodded, he let out a frustrated groan. "I thought she was done with him. What about Miles?"

Rorie leaned into Lewis's side. "Apparently, Miles was trying to move things into more serious territory, and KiKi got scared. Tia thinks it's because of her low self-esteem, and how Khalil never wanted to commit to her before."

"So she's falling back into old patterns," Lewis mused.

"Yeah. The girls and I are planning to talk to her about it. Kind of like an intervention, I guess."

Lewis chuckled softly. "Sounds intense. But necessary, probably."

Rorie nodded. "And... I think we both need to apologize to KiKi too. For placing suspicion on her. I feel so bad that we did that."

Lewis was quiet for a moment before agreeing. "You're right. We haven't been the best friends we could be." He pressed a kiss to his wife's temple. "Whatever comes next, we've got this," he murmured.

Rorie smiled, snuggling closer to him. "Together," she agreed, as the waves continued their endless dance with the shore.

The next few days went by quickly. With the Las Vegas Grand Prix approaching, Rorie found herself juggling preparations for an Almave pop-up bar during race weekend alongside her usual responsibilities. Managing multiple homes at once was proving to be a Herculean task. Their London house was undergoing renovations, with Lewis's brother Nicolas supervising the work. Her family was currently at their Colorado home, where she'd just hired a new housekeeper. The Monaco penthouse needed attention, and of course, there was their Malibu home to consider.

Rorie sighed as she thought about Luisa, their Malibu housekeeper, who'd been sick lately and rather short in their conversations. She made a mental note to send over a care package. As she juggled all these balls, along with her growing list of campaigns and ambassadorships, Rorie couldn't help but wish she were an octopus, with enough arms to handle everything at once.

"I really need to consider hiring a personal assistant," she muttered to herself as she confirmed yet another appointment.

Amidst all this, Rorie found solace in quiet moments at home with Lyric and Roscoe. Watching Lyric toddle after Roscoe, giggling with delight, Rorie felt content, which made her upcoming OB/GYN appointment all the more significant.

The day of the appointment soon arrived, and Rorie found herself in Dr. Chen's office. The waiting room was a vibrant space, with walls painted in soothing shades of blue and green. Colorful artwork adorned the walls, interspersed with framed photographs of smiling babies - all delivered by Dr. Chen herself. Soft background music and the gentle burble of a small fountain in the corner was a nice touch of calmness, and a refreshment station offered water, herbal teas, and fresh fruit, adding to the welcoming atmosphere.

In one corner, a play area was set up with soft foam mats and an array of toys. Lyric immediately gravitated towards it, joining a couple of other children in stacking blocks and rolling toy cars. Rorie and Lewis settled into the plush chairs, watching their son play.

"He's getting so big," Lewis murmured, a hint of wonder in his voice.

Rorie nodded, squeezing his hand. "Time flies, doesn't it?"

Lewis nodded, his eyes soft as he watched their son. "Do you think he's ready to be a big brother?"

Rorie considered for a moment. "I think so. He's been so gentle with younger kids at playgroup. We'll need to prepare him, though."

"Maybe we could start reading him books about being a big brother," Lewis suggested. "And involve him in setting up the nursery when the time comes."

"That's a great idea," Rorie agreed. "We should also make sure to give him extra attention, so he doesn't feel left out."

Their conversation was interrupted as a nurse in cheerful floral scrubs called their name. "Hamilton family?" she said with a warm smile.

Lewis stood, scooping up Lyric who protested leaving his new playmates. "Come on, little man," Lewis said, settling Lyric on his hip.

The nurse led them down a corridor lined with more baby photos and inspirational quotes about parenthood. "He's adorable," she commented, grinning at Lyric. "How old is he now?"

"Sixteen months," Rorie replied proudly.

"Oh, a big boy!" the nurse said, smiling at Lyric. "Are you being good to your Mommy and Daddy?"

"Say 'no'," Lewis joked, lightly pinching his son's cheek and causing the nurse to laugh.

They entered Dr. Chen's office, which was just as inviting as the waiting room. Soft, natural light filtered through gauzy curtains, and potted plants added a touch of nature to the space. The examination table was draped with a colorful, patterned cloth, making it look less clinical.

Dr. Chen greeted them warmly, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "How are we all doing today?" she asked, giving Lyric a little wave. As Rorie settled onto the examination table, Lewis sat nearby with Lyric on his lap. "And how have you been feeling, Rorie?"

"I've been feeling pretty good," Rorie replied. "A bit nauseous in the mornings, and I've had some weird cravings."

Dr. Chen nodded, making notes. "And you took a home pregnancy test, correct?"

"Yes, it was positive," Rorie confirmed, hope evident in her voice.

Dr. Chen began the ultrasound, and the room fell silent. Lewis held Rorie's hand tightly, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. They both watched the screen intently, hope and anxiety mingling in the air.

As the minutes ticked by, Dr. Chen's brow furrowed in concentration. She moved the wand, checking different angles, her expression growing more concerned. Finally, she set down the wand with a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," she said gently, "but I'm not detecting a heartbeat. It appears to have been a false positive."

Disbelief etched on her face. "But... I've been feeling nauseous. I've had cravings. I haven't had my period..."

Dr. Chen's voice was compassionate as she explained, "Sometimes, stress can mimic pregnancy symptoms. Given everything that's been happening in your life recently, it's possible that stress is the cause of these symptoms."

Rorie fell silent and her heart sank, tears welling up in her eyes as she processed the information. Lewis, sensing her withdrawal, spoke up. "What are our options moving forward, Dr. Chen?"

Dr. Chen's tone was gentle but optimistic as she replied, "We still have two embryos frozen from your previous IVF cycle. If you're ready, we could discuss trying IVF again."

She went on to explain the process in detail, outlining the steps, potential risks, and success rates. Throughout the explanation, she maintained a tone of gentle encouragement, emphasizing that there were still possibilities ahead.

As Dr. Chen finished speaking, she offered them a moment alone. "Take all the time you need," she said softly, before stepping out of the room.

In the quiet that followed, Lewis enveloped Rorie in a tight embrace, Lyric nestled between them. Rorie clung to him, still processing the news. As her initial shock began to subside, she looked down at Lyric, who was watching them with curious eyes. Tears began to fall freely down Rorie's cheeks, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

Lyric, sensing his mother's distress, reached out a tiny hand and placed it gently on Rorie's wet cheek. The innocent gesture of comfort broke something inside her.

"Oh, my sweet baby," Rorie whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She pulled Lyric closer, crying into his soft curls. Between sobs, Rorie turned to Lewis. "I'm so sorry," she managed to say, her words muffled and broken.

Lewis shook his head, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay, love. It's not your fault," he said softly, wrapping his arms around both Rorie and Lyric. "Remember what Dr. Chen said? These things happen, and we still have options." He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice steady and reassuring. "I love you, Rorie. We'll get through this together, I promise."

Rorie nodded, unable to speak through her tears but drawing comfort from Lewis's words and the warmth of her family's embrace. Lyric, not fully understanding but instinctively offering comfort, snuggled closer to his mother.

In that moment, surrounded by the love of her husband and son, Rorie felt a glimmer of hope through her grief. The path ahead was uncertain, but she wasn't walking it alone.

As they prepared to leave, Rorie found her voice again. "Maybe we should take some time to think about the IVF," she said quietly. "We have a lot going on right now."

Lewis nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Of course, love. We'll take it one day at a time."

The neon lights of Las Vegas blazed against the night sky, casting a surreal glow over the city as it prepared for its inaugural Grand Prix. Lewis stood on the balcony of his suite at the Wynn, taking in the spectacle below. The energy was electric, but Lewis felt oddly disconnected from it all.

His mind wandered to Rorie, back in Colorado with Lyric. She had been withdrawn since their visit to Dr. Chen, the false positive pregnancy test hitting her harder than either of them had anticipated. Lewis had encouraged her to sit this race weekend out, to focus on her mental health, but her absence left a palpable void.

The news had been tough on him too. He'd allowed himself to imagine their family growing, Lyric becoming a big brother. But as Dr. Chen had gently reminded them, they still had options. Two frozen embryos waited, a possibility for the future. Yet, Lewis knew the decision to try again had to be Rorie's.

Shaking off his melancholy, Lewis headed down to the lobby where his best friend, Miles, was waiting. The Vegas strip was awash with Formula 1 fever. Billboards flashed with images of drivers, including the debut of Lewis's own Fortnite skin. Rorie's Tommy Hilfiger campaign was also debuting this weekend, her face gracing billboards throughout the city.

Lewis had reluctantly attended the Almave pop-up earlier, putting on a brave face for the cameras despite his heavy heart. Now, he and Miles made their way to Delilah, the Art Deco-inspired supper club within the Wynn.

As they settled into their booth, Miles studied his friend's face. "How's Rorie doing?"

Lewis paused, his fingers tracing the rim of his water glass. "It's been tough," he admitted. "She's withdrawn, barely talking. I don't know how to reach her sometimes."

"And how are you holding up?" Miles pressed gently.

Lewis's composure cracked, tears welling in his eyes. "I'm trying to be strong for her, but man, it's hard. We wanted this so badly."

Miles reached across the table, squeezing Lewis's shoulder supportively as his friend wiped away tears.

As their meal progressed, Lewis opened up more about the pressures he was facing - the lawsuit, Rorie's father reaching out, and the potential move to Ferrari.

"He says he's going to be here this weekend, and wants to talk again," Lewis said, his voice tight with frustration. "I just… I don't know how to handle all of this."

Miles listened intently, offering words of support and gentle advice. "Have you thought about going back to therapy?" he suggested. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot, bro."

Lewis shook his head. "I can't right now. I need to be there for Rorie, for Lyric. They need me to be strong."

Miles leaned forward, his expression serious. "Lewis, listen to me. You can't pour from an empty cup. You need to take care of yourself too. Rorie would want that."

As they were leaving the restaurant, a familiar face caught Lewis's eye. Deja stood near the bar, her gaze locking onto him.

"Lewis," she called out, her voice carrying a mix of anger and hurt.

Lewis tensed, his bodyguards immediately alert. "Deja, I have nothing to say to you."

"Of course you don't," she scoffed. "But I have plenty to say. Like how you're letting Rorie play the victim when she's the one who stole you from me."

Lewis's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"New Orleans, 2017. All-Star weekend," Deja spat. "We met at the club, danced, kissed. You promised me we'd be together! You said I was special!"

Lewis shook his head, genuinely perplexed. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember. I was partying a lot back then. If we did hook up, I apologize, but it was just that - a hookup."

Deja's face contorted with rage. "Just a hookup? You know what, Lewis? I'm glad I met with The Sun's PI. The truth is finally coming out, and I couldn't be happier. You think you can just use people and forget about them?"

"Deja, I—" Lewis started, but she cut him off.

"No, you listen! You ruined my life, and now I'm going to return the favor. You and that bitch Rorie deserve each other! I'm going to make your life miserable!"

Lewis's bodyguards stepped in, creating a barrier between them as the situation escalated. "We need to go, sir," one of them urged.

As they hustled Lewis and Miles out of the restaurant, Deja's angry shouts echoed behind them. "You're a liar, Lewis Hamilton! This is just the beginning!"

In the elevator, Lewis leaned against the wall, his jaw clenched. "I can't believe this," he muttered, then slammed his fist against the elevator wall. "Damn it!"

Miles watched his friend, concern etched on his face. "Talk to me, bro. What's going through your head?"

Lewis ran a hand over his face, frustration evident in every movement. "I'm trying to make sense of it all. All-Star weekend 2017... that was a year before I even met Rorie. Why is Deja so hung up on this?" He paced the small space of the elevator. "I mean, I partied a lot back then, sure. But promising someone we'd be together? That doesn't sound like me, even at my wildest. I'm trying to remember that weekend, but it's all a blur."

Miles shrugged his shoulders. "The bitch is crazy, bro. Don't try to rationalize delusion."

Lewis shook his head, still trying to piece together fragments of memories. "But what if there's some truth to it? What if I did something I don't remember?"

"Look," Miles said firmly, placing both hands on Lewis's shoulders to stop his pacing. "Even if something did happen - which I doubt - it was years ago. You weren't with Rorie then. You didn't do anything wrong."

The elevator dinged as they reached their floor. As the doors opened, Lewis took a deep breath, his mind still racing. "You're right. I just... I hate that this is happening now, with everything else going on."

Miles nodded sympathetically. "I know, man. But we'll figure this out. One step at a time, remember?"

"One step at a time."

As they stepped out into the hallway, Lewis felt a mix of emotions - anger at Deja's accusations, confusion about the past, and a deep longing for Rorie and the simplicity of being with his family.

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

This was not his weekend. At all.

Lewis stared at his phone, scrolling through the TMZ article that had somehow materialized overnight. The drama with Deja at Delilah had made its way to the gossip mill, complete with blurry photos and sensationalized headlines.

His dad had left several texts and voicemails, rightfully upset about what had happened. Lewis sighed, knowing he'd have to deal with that conversation soon. But for now, he was grateful that there were no messages from Rorie. The last thing she needed was this added stress.

His Twitter notifications were exploding, a mix of support and criticism flooding his mentions:

@F1Fan2023: "Lewis, stay strong! We know the truth is on your side. #TeamLH" @GossipQueen88: "First the lawsuit, now this? What's really going on with Lewis Hamilton? 👀" @RacingEnthusiast: "Focus on the track, Lewis. Let your driving do the talking. #LasVegasGP"

As he made his way to the paddock, Lewis tried to push the social media noise out of his mind. He had a race to focus on, after all. The Las Vegas strip was alive with fans crowding the streets and celebrities flocking to the various events.

Just as Lewis thought he might be able to lose himself in the pre-race routines, he spotted a familiar figure approaching. Martin, Rorie's father, was making his way through the paddock.

"This motherfucker," Lewis muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the encounter.

"Lewis," Martin called out, his voice tentative but determined. "I need to talk to you about Rorie. She's not answering my calls again."

Lewis exhaled heavily. "Martin, now is really not a good time."

"I know about the lawsuit," Martin pressed on. "I want to help. I have resources—"

"It's not just that," Lewis cut him off, then paused. He shouldn't be saying this, but the words tumbled out anyway. "We've been trying to have another baby. We just got some tough news from our OB/GYN. Rorie's… she's struggling right now."

Martin's face fell. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Lewis said, turning away.

"Lewis, wait," Martin called after him. "I know I've gone about this all wrong, but I genuinely want a relationship with Rorie and my grandson. Her half-siblings, they want to know her too."

Lewis paused, conflicting emotions battling within him. He understood the desire for family, but his priority was protecting Rorie and Lyric.

"Look, Martin," he said finally, turning back. "I hear you. But this has to be Rorie's decision. And right now, she needs space. Can you respect that?"

Martin nodded slowly, a mix of disappointment and understanding on his face. "I can. Just… tell her I'm here when she's ready?"

Lewis gave a curt nod before walking away, his mind already racing ahead to the challenges of the day. As he reached for his balaclava, his phone buzzed with a text from Julian in all caps:

CALL ME NOW.

Moving to the back of the garage for privacy, Lewis dialed Julian's number.

"Julian, what's going on?"

"Lewis, we've identified the inside source giving Deja information," Julian said, his voice tense. "It's Luisa."

"What the fuck, man?" Lewis exploded, lowering his voice as he glanced around. "This fucking weekend is cursed."

Shit, maybe I need to douse myself in holy water.

"It'll be okay, Lewis." Julian tried to calm him down. "I'm preparing to file a motion to have her arrested—"

"No, don't do that," Lewis cut in. "Luisa has two kids. We can't…"

"What do you want me to do then?" Julian asked, frustration evident in his voice. "This is serious, Lewis. She invaded your privacy."

Lewis took a deep breath. "I'll handle it after the race. For now, just… keep this under wraps, okay?"

As he ended the call, Lewis felt the weight of everything pressing down on him. Between the race, the media circus, and the family drama, this Vegas weekend was turning out to be more complicated than he could have ever imagined.

Lewis took a deep breath, trying to center himself amidst the chaos swirling around him. The garage buzzed with pre-race activity, mechanics fine-tuning the car, team members hurrying back and forth with last-minute adjustments.

He pulled on his balaclava, the familiar routine offering a small comfort. As he reached for his helmet, Toto approached, concern etched on his face.

"Lewis, are you alright?" Toto asked, his voice low. "I've heard about the... incident last night."

Lewis nodded, grateful for Toto's discretion. "I'm managing. Just focused on the race now."

Toto placed a supportive hand on Lewis's shoulder. "Remember, we're here for you. Whatever you need."

As Lewis made his way to the car, he caught sight of Fred Vasseur in the paddock. Their eyes met briefly, and Fred gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. The potential move to Ferrari suddenly felt like it belonged to a different lifetime.

Settling into the cockpit, Lewis allowed himself a moment of calm. The familiar smell of rubber and fuel, the snug fit of the seat – it all helped to ground him. Here, in this space, he was just a driver. No drama, no complications. Just him and the track.

The radio crackled to life. "Lewis, how are you feeling? Car okay?"

Bono's voice made the corners of Lewis' lips quirk into a small smile. Although the car was still shit, at least it was somewhat better than the current reality of his life.

"All good," Lewis responded, his voice steady. "Let's do this."

"Alright, mate, whenever you're ready."

He pulled out of the garage for the formation lap, revving his engine as his mind began to clear. The neon lights of Vegas, the drama with Deja, the situation with Luisa, even the heartache over the false pregnancy – it all faded into the background.

For now, there was only the race. The grip of the tires on asphalt and the thrill of pushing machine and man to their limits. As the lights went out and Lewis launched off the line, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline.

Let's fucking go.

The crisp November air of Colorado bit at Rorie's cheeks as she stood on the balcony of their secluded home. The Rockies stretched out before her, their peaks already blanketed in snow, the evergreens dotting the landscape providing the only splashes of color against the white and gray backdrop. It was a view that usually brought her peace, but today, it felt more like a beautiful, wintry prison.

Lyric's laughter drifted from inside, where he was playing with Aaliyah. Rorie pulled her thick cardigan tighter around herself, grateful for her sister's presence; it provided a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in her mind.

She glanced at her phone, notifications muted but the screen still lighting up periodically with incoming messages. The early sunset of late autumn had already painted the sky in deep purples and oranges. She knew she should check her messages, knew that Lewis was probably worried, but she couldn't bring herself to face the outside world just yet.

The news from Dr. Chen still felt raw, a constant ache in her chest. Each time she saw Lyric, bundled up in his winter clothes, a bittersweet mix of love and longing washed over her. He was growing so fast, and the thought that he might remain their only child brought a fresh wave of pain.

Rorie's eyes drifted to the mountain horizon again, where the first stars were beginning to appear in the clear, cold sky. She'd come here to find peace, to escape the pressure and drama that had been building back in L.A. But even here, in this beautiful winter sanctuary, she couldn't outrun her own thoughts.

Throughout the day, Rorie thought about her husband and his race in Vegas. When the final results came in, she felt a mix of emotions - pride in Lewis's efforts, but also disappointment at his P7 finish. Part of her felt guilty for not being there to support him, but another part was relieved to be away from the spotlight. The lawsuit, her biological father's attempts to reconnect, the constant scrutiny – it all felt overwhelming.

"Rorie?" Aaliyah's voice called from inside. "Lyric's asking for you. And it's getting cold out there!"

Taking a deep breath of the pine-scented air, Rorie turned from the view and headed back inside to the warmth of the house. As she scooped up her son, feeling his warmth through his soft sweater, she felt a small spark of hope ignite within her. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she had this – the love of her family, the strength she knew resided within her.

"Mama," Lyric babbled, patting her cheek.

"I'm here, baby," Rorie murmured, holding him close. "Mama's here."

She settled on the couch with Lyric, and Aaliyah joined them, draping a warm throw over their laps. Rorie allowed herself this moment of peace, surrounded by the love of her family and the quiet strength of the snow-covered mountains.

Rorie heard the soft murmur of voices from the kitchen. Her mother, Marian, and stepfather Greg were preparing dinner, the comforting aroma of homemade stew filling the air.

"How're you holding up, sweetie?" Aaliyah asked, settling beside them and tucking the throw around their legs.

Rorie sighed, bouncing Lyric gently on her knee. "I'm... managing. It's just a lot, you know?"

Aaliyah nodded sympathetically. "I can't even imagine. But we're all here for you, Ror. You know that, right?"

Before Rorie could respond, Marian entered the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Dinner's almost ready, girls. Rorie, honey, have you checked on Lewis?"

Rorie shook her head, a twinge of guilt passing through her. "Not yet, Mom. I just... I needed some time."

Marian sat down on the armchair across from them, her eyes filled with concern. "I understand, baby. But remember, you two are a team. Don't shut him out."

Greg appeared in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space. "Your mother's right, Rorie. And speaking of shutting people out, there were at least a dozen paparazzi camped outside our house this morning. Mrs. Weatherly said it's still a circus back there."

As much as she was nosy, Mrs. Weatherly, her parents' elderly neighbor, was still a good person and kept them updated about everything.

Rorie groaned, burying her face in Lyric's braids. "I'm so sorry you guys got dragged into this mess."

"Hey, none of that," Greg said firmly, moving to sit on the arm of Marian's chair. "We're family. Your battles are our battles."

"That's right," Marian added. "And we'll face them together, just like we always have."

Lyric, sensing the tension in the room, began to fuss. Rorie stood up, bouncing him gently. "Shh, it's okay, baby. Mama's got you."

As she paced the room, soothing Lyric, Aaliyah spoke up. "Have you thought about what you're going to do about... everything? The lawsuit, Martin trying to make contact..."

Rorie paused by the window, looking out at the snow-covered landscape. "Honestly? I don't know. It all feels so overwhelming sometimes."

"One step at a time, honey," Marian said softly. "You don't have to figure it all out at once."

Greg nodded in agreement. "And whatever you decide, we've got your back. All of us."

Rorie felt a lump form in her throat, touched by the unwavering support of her family. "Thanks, you guys. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Just then, the timer in the kitchen went off. "That'll be the cornbread," Greg said, standing up. "I'll go grab it."

As he left the room, Marian turned to Rorie. "Why don't you go freshen up before dinner? I'll take Lyric."

Rorie hesitated for a moment before handing Lyric over to her mother. As she headed upstairs, she paused at the landing, looking back at her family gathered in the living room. Despite everything, she felt a surge of gratitude.

In her room, Rorie finally picked up her phone. Several missed calls and messages from Lewis, all expressing love and concern. Taking a deep breath, she typed out a message:

I'm okay. We're okay. Call you later. Love you.

As she hit send, Rorie felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. Rorie descended the stairs, and the rich aroma of Greg's famous cornbread filled the air, mingling with the hearty scent of the stew. The sound of Lyric's giggles echoed from the kitchen, bringing a small smile to her face.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her. Marian was at the stove, stirring the stew with one hand while balancing Lyric on her hip. Greg was carefully cutting the cornbread, while Aaliyah placed items in the dishwasher.

"There you are," Marian said, noticing Rorie. "Feel better?"

Rorie nodded, moving to take Lyric from her mother. "Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mom."

As they settled in the living room with bowls of steaming stew and plates of Greg's famous cornbread, Greg turned on the TV. The Broncos vs Vikings game was just starting.

"So, Aaliyah," Greg said between bites, "how's that new project at work going?"

As Aaliyah launched into a story about her latest architectural design, Rorie felt herself relaxing. The normalcy of family dinner and football was exactly what she needed.

Greg, ever the Eagles fan, watched the game intently despite neither team being his favorite. "You know," he said during a commercial break, "I'll watch any football game, but it's a bit more interesting now that Lewis is one of the Broncos' owners. Speaking of which, Rorie, does Lewis have any plans for trades? I've got some ideas..."

Rorie couldn't help but laugh, the first genuine chuckle she'd had in days. "Dad, you know Lewis doesn't really deal with trades and that kind of thing, right? But I'll be sure to pass along your suggestions."

Marian rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Greg, leave the poor man alone. I'm sure he's got enough on his plate without your armchair quarterback advice."

As they continued to eat and watch the game, Rorie felt a sense of normalcy wash over her. The warmth of the stew, the comfort of her family, and the familiar sounds of football commentary created a cocoon of safety, if only for a moment.

After dinner and the game, Rorie excused herself to put Lyric to bed. She carried him upstairs, and she could feel the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. In the nursery, she gently changed Lyric into his pajamas, humming softly as she did so.

"Time for sleep, my little love," she whispered, placing him in his crib. Lyric gazed up at her with heavy-lidded eyes, his tiny hand reaching out to grasp her finger.

As she tucked him in, she whispered, "Daddy did his best today, baby. We're always proud of him, aren't we?" Lyric mumbled something unintelligible in response, already drifting off to sleep. Rorie stood there for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, finding a moment of peace in the simple act of motherhood.

With Lyric settled, Rorie retreated to her room, closing the door softly behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone for a long moment before finally dialing Lewis's number. Her heart raced as it rang once, twice...

He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, babe," his voice was tired but warm, instantly soothing her frayed nerves.

"Hi," Rorie said softly, curling up against the headboard. "Tough race today, huh?"

Lewis sighed, and she could almost see him running a hand over his face as he often did when frustrated. "Yeah, not our best. The car just didn't have the pace we needed. Felt like I was fighting it the whole time."

"You did your best, though. That's what matters," Rorie assured him.

"Thanks, love. But that's not even the half of it. Rorie, I need to tell you something, and it's... well, it's not good."

Rorie felt her stomach tighten. "What is it?"

He proceeded to recount his encounter with Deja at Delilah, describing the heated exchange and her claims about their supposed history. Rorie listened, her free hand clenching the bedsheet as Lewis spoke.

"She was yelling about how we met in New Orleans during All-Star weekend in 2017, saying I promised her things. I swear, Rorie, I don't remember any of it. If something did happen, it was just a hookup, nothing more."

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to process this information. "I believe you, Lewis. But why is she doing this now? After all this time?"

"I don't know," Lewis admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "She seems convinced that you 'stole' me from her or something. It's crazy, Rorie. We hadn't even met in 2017."

Rorie's mind raced. "Do you think she's just looking for attention? Or is there more to it?"

"I wish I knew. But there's more, and this... this is going to be hard to hear."

Rorie braced herself. "What is it?"

"Julian called me today. He found out who's been leaking information to Deja."

"Who?" Rorie asked, dreading the answer.

"It's Luisa," Lewis said, his voice heavy.

Rorie gasped, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. "Our housekeeper? But why would she— How could she—"

"I don't know," Lewis cut in, his own voice tight with emotion. "I told Julian not to do anything drastic. We'll figure it out when I get back. I just can't believe someone we trusted would do this to us."

Rorie felt tears welling up in her eyes. "I trusted her with Lyric, Lewis. She's been in our home, with our son... Oh God, what if she—"

"Hey, hey," Lewis soothed, "Lyric is safe. He's there with you and your family. We'll sort this out, I promise. We'll make sure he stays safe."

Rorie nodded, even though Lewis couldn't see her, wiping away a stray tear. "You're right. He's safe. We're safe."

There was a pause before Lewis continued, "Oh, and there's one more thing. My parents are planning to come to Colorado. They want to be there for us, with everything that's going on."

Rorie felt a wave of emotion wash over her. "That's... that's really sweet of them. When are they coming?"

"They're trying to get flights for tomorrow. Is that okay? I know it's a lot with everything else..."

"No, it's perfect," Rorie said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. "I think having them here will help. Your mom always knows how to make things better."

Lewis chuckled softly. "That she does. How's Lyric doing?"

Rorie smiled, glancing at the baby monitor. "He's good. Missing his daddy, but good. He loved watching you race today. Kept pointing at the TV and saying 'Dada fast!'"

"I miss him too. Both of you. God, Rorie, I wish I was there with you right now."

"I know. Me too. But you'll be home soon, right?"

"Late tomorrow, I promise. Look, I know it's a lot to process. But we'll get through this together, okay? We always do. I love you, Rorie. You and Lyric are everything to me."

"We love you too," Rorie said, her voice thick with emotion. "Come home soon. We need you here."

"I will. Try to get some rest, okay? And Rorie?"

"Yeah?"

"We've got this. Together."

As they said their goodbyes, Rorie felt a mix of anxiety and determination. She lay back on the bed, her mind racing with everything Lewis had told her, but also feeling a glimmer of hope. Whatever came next, they would face it as a family. Rorie closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she allowed herself to find comfort in the love of her husband and the peace of knowing their son slept safely nearby.

KiKi sat in her car, parked a few blocks away from the trendy café where Deja was holding court with a group of her friends. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel as she watched Deja through the tinted windows. It was supposed to be a casual surveillance, but the longer KiKi sat there, the more her frustration simmered.

Deja had been a thorn in Rorie’s side for too long, and KiKi had been watching her closely, waiting for the right moment to strike. She’d seen Deja run her mouth to anyone who would listen, stirring up more drama, and generally making Rorie’s life hell. KiKi’s loyalty to Rorie ran deep, and the thought of Deja continuing to cause problems made her blood boil.

When Rorie had told her not to beat Deja’s ass, KiKi had nodded, promising to stay cool. But Rorie hadn’t said anything about not finding someone else to do it, and KiKi had taken that as a green light. Enter her cousin’s boyfriend’s sister, Nyla. Nyla was a wild card, known for handling business in a way that left no room for misunderstandings. KiKi had mentioned Deja’s antics to her in passing, and Nyla had practically volunteered for the job on the spot.

As KiKi sat there, her phone buzzed with a new message. She glanced down at the screen and saw it was from Nyla, who was already on the move:

On my way. Got the address. Bitch won’t know what hit her.

KiKi smirked, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Nyla wasn’t one to play around, and KiKi trusted her to send a clear message. Deja had been playing with fire, and it was time she got burned.

KiKi’s gaze shifted back to Deja, who was laughing loudly, oblivious to the storm heading her way. The woman sitting next to KiKi in the passenger seat, a friend of Nyla’s named Tasha, shifted slightly, adjusting her oversized sunglasses as she leaned back against the seat. Tasha was cool and composed, her sharp eyes hidden behind the dark lenses. Her long braids were neatly pulled back, and she wore a leather jacket that matched her tough, no-nonsense demeanor. Tasha didn’t say much, but when she did, her words carried weight.

"She doesn’t look like much," Tasha remarked, her voice low and steady. "You sure this is the right one?"

KiKi glanced at Tasha, a hint of annoyance in her tone. "Yeah, that’s her. Don’t let the cute face fool you—she’s a snake."

Tasha nodded slowly, taking another look at Deja. "Good thing Nyla doesn’t care what she looks like. She’ll get the job done."

"Damn right," KiKi muttered, her eyes narrowing as Deja tossed her hair and flashed a bright smile at something one of her friends said. "Rorie’s been through enough, and I’m sick of this bitch thinking she can just do whatever she wants."

Tasha didn’t respond, but KiKi could feel her quiet agreement. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that they were about to put an end to Deja’s antics, or at least slow her down. Rorie deserved peace, and if it took a little roughing up to get it, so be it.

KiKi’s phone buzzed again, this time with a simple message:

In position. Ready when you are.

KiKi grinned, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She fired off a quick reply:

Wait for her to leave. Don’t make a scene.

"Time to move," KiKi said, sliding her phone back into her pocket and starting the car. "Nyla’s got this."

Tasha nodded, her expression unreadable behind the sunglasses. As they drove away, leaving Deja to her fate, KiKi felt a sense of grim satisfaction. She hadn’t laid a finger on Deja, just as Rorie had asked, but she’d made sure the message would be delivered loud and clear.

KiKi’s car rolled smoothly out of the parking spot as she and Tasha headed away from the café. The sense of satisfaction in her chest grew with each passing second. Deja had no idea what was coming, and that was exactly how KiKi wanted it. But as much as she enjoyed the thought of Deja getting what she deserved, there was still work to be done. Loose ends needed to be tied up, and KiKi wasn’t about to let anything trace back to her or, more importantly, Rorie.

She drove to a more secluded area on the outskirts of the city, where Nyla had said she’d meet her after handling business. The rain had picked up again, the rhythmic drumming on the car roof only adding to the tension in the air. After about fifteen minutes, KiKi pulled into an abandoned lot, the dim streetlights casting long shadows over the wet asphalt. Nyla’s car was already there, parked under a flickering light. KiKi parked next to her, and she and Tasha stepped out, the cool night air biting at their skin.

Nyla was leaning against her car, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Her expression was calm, almost bored, as if she’d just finished running an errand instead of beating someone up in a parking lot, but there was a hard edge in her eyes that KiKi didn’t miss.

"Is it done?" KiKi asked as she approached, her voice low.

Nyla pushed off the car and nodded. "Yeah. the bitch didn’t even see it coming. Got her right as she was about to get into her car. Didn’t take much—she folded quick."

KiKi’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Good. And no one saw you?"

Nyla shrugged. "Even if they did, they won’t talk. But nah, it was clean. Just me, her, and the rain. She’s probably still trying to figure out what hit her."

Tasha chuckled quietly, pulling off her sunglasses now that they were out of the public eye. "Serves her right. Think she’ll back off?"

"She better," KiKi muttered, glancing at Nyla. "But just in case, we need to make sure this doesn’t trace back to us. No loose ends."

Nyla gave a small, dismissive wave. "Don’t worry about that. I made sure she didn’t know who I was. And if she tries to go to the cops, it’ll just look like she got into some random altercation. Ain’t nobody gonna believe her."

KiKi nodded, but her mind was already working through the possibilities, the what-ifs. She wasn’t one to leave anything to chance. "We’ll need to lay low for a bit, just to be safe. If anyone asks, we were nowhere near that café today."

Nyla smirked. "You’re paranoid, but I get it. Don’t worry. I’ve got an alibi, and I’m sure you two do too. We’re good."

KiKi sighed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Nyla was right—they were careful, and Deja was too rattled to put the pieces together, especially with the warning Nyla had delivered. Still, KiKi wasn’t one to let her guard down easily.

"Alright," KiKi said, glancing between Nyla and Tasha. "We’ll stick to the plan. If anything comes up, we handle it, but for now, we wait and see how she reacts."

Nyla nodded, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. "Cool. You know how to reach me if you need anything else. But trust me, she’s not gonna be a problem anymore."

KiKi offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Nyla. I owe you one."

Nyla shrugged, already heading back to her car with Tasha in tow. "Just doing what needed to be done. Catch you later."

KiKi got back into her car. The drive back to her hotel was silent, the satisfaction of the evening’s events mingling with the ever-present undercurrent of caution. KiKi knew they’d sent a message, but she also knew the game wasn’t over. Deja might be down, but she wasn’t out—and KiKi would be ready if she ever tried to come back for more.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[mayuichi]

Spending your birthday with them.

Include:

Genshin Impact [ Alhaitham, Wriothesley, Heizou ]

Honkai: Star Rail [ Aventurine & Veritas Ratio ]

Persona 5 [ Akechi Goro ]

Moriarty the Patriot [ William James Moriarty & Fred Porlock ]

Content Warning: fem!reader, I'm sorry for men that may read this! If you easily switch pronouns in your mind then go ahead, but there's mention of the reader wearing a dress at some point! (kind of irrevelant though, so I think you can imagine something else then?), pet names and.. that's all i think-. it's just a fluff so...

may's note: im so sorry i took so long to come back!! ive got a lot on my plate recently, i had planned another oneshot to come out but but BUUT!! My best friend's birthday is right around the corner when I write this (aha just a day before.. hi..) so im writing this for her, with her favourites and some that i know she loves <3 HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!! I HOPE YOULL HAVE AN AMAZING DAY AND THAT YOU GOT THAT PLUSH YOU WANTED TO GO WITH AVENTURINE!! ive kinda rushed this to come out ngl, because its been a month im like "i have the time" until i didnt have time anymore.. sorry if it sucks :(

This artwork has been made by susucre! Do not steal/use it! every other used for the headers are official arts!

Even if he doesn't want to, he has duties now. Or at least, unexpected duties. But you can be sure Alhaitham always makes some time for you. How can he not? You're his sweetheart. Well, he isn't one to give sweet names but he still thinks so.

However, how could've you expect him to forget about your birthday? It's once a year, and he doesn't really care much about them usually. But we're talking about you. Of course he can't forget about it. He wants you happy, and he knows you'd hate if he doesn't at least wish you a happy birthday.

But what was your surprise when you find him still in bed, beside you, his right arm drapped over you as he reads from the other. Isn't he supposed to be at work, at the Akademiya? You don't even have the time to inquire, he saw your eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning.„ he briefly looks over you, before focusing back onto his book. But he strokes your side with his hand gently. He isn't much of a talker, but his small gestures are everything, aren't they?

He rapidly finishes his page, and places the book down to turn to you. “I'll let you take a shower and I'll prepare you breakfast.„ you can't even reply that he's already out of bed and heading to the kitchen. You'll just have to go shower.

It's your special day. Of course you'll wear a pretty dress, you want to feel extra pretty for today. When done, you head to the living room, finding him waiting for you to eat. It isn't a feast, but more than enough for the both of you. The silence is comfortable, only your breathing.

“Where are you going?„ he inquires when he sees you about to open the front door. You thought you'd go on a walk. “I haven't overworked myself for a week so I could have a full day off for you to ditch me, you know?„

It wasn't much, maybe even a bit offensive for some. But the idea that he paid attention enough to be certain to have a complete day off for you is enough to make you smile. And so, you chuckle and walk towards him.

“The weather is nice. It's sunny. We should go out together, don't you think?„ you tilt your head, waiting for his approval.. or for a compromise.

“It is. It's the perfect weather to do nothing at all. Or to read next to a window.„ without further notice, he stands and pulls you with him to the nearby window. Making you sit in his lap, he pulls out a book and rests his chin on top of your head.

“Maybe it isn't the best birthday you'll ever have, but I hope my company is enough.„ he isn't necessarily insecure, far from it even. But it's your special day. He just wants to make you happy, doesn't he?

And even if he says so, just reading in his lap with him, is enough. Spending time with him makes it nicer. Leaning further into his chest, you sigh and start to read with him. He's careful to wait for you, to ensure you finished before he actually turns the page.

He'll take breaks from time to time to make you both a drink, or to let you talk a bit. It isn't partying, but being able to spend the day together, reading and talking, without him possibly thinking about his duties is a luxury he doesn't always allow himself.

And he's more than glad for it to be with you.

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒˚ ◌༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ⋆·˚ ༘ *︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚༊*·˚

Until now, Wriothesley was used to stay in the Fortress most of his time. It never bothered him. Sigewinne keeps him company, and his prisoners aren't too bad most of the time. Even Neuvillette or Clorinde comes visit him from time to time.

But it changed when he met you. He didn't want you to be that often in the Fortress, and yet he couldn't help but want you. You don't know it, but he even asked Neuvillette for your birthday. It has never been that much of a talk in between you. You were both kind of over it after all. You aren't toddlers for who it is extremely important to get one year older.

But he wants your first birthday with him to be special, to be something you'd remember. He wants to make this day amazing. And for that, he had to have permissions and ensure the paperwork was done before that day. He had to be prepared for any possibility, to be called in for an emergency if someone tried to escape, or if they get overwhelmed and for your day to be ruined.

But he was willing to take that risk.

On your occasional weekly visit, you both talk and drink tea together, as any other time. You're not sure when, yet now, he has you in his arms, holding you close. It is as if he believed you were leaving. He's quick to compose himself and just steals a kiss from you, to hide his worries behind that smirk he always has when he surprises you.

“By the way, I've heard your birthday is soon, isn't it?„ you raise an eyebrow. You haven't told him, yet he knows. “Would you like us to spend the day together?„

You were so sure he meant inside the Fortress of Meropide, that when he mentioned that it wouldn't be there, but in the city, your eyes widened. Of course, you firstly worried about his work. It isn't like he's just a guard who could take a day off or a sick day. He has a prison to keep in place.

But he assured you it'd be alright. And so you trust him. There's no reason for you not to.

Your birthday was soon to come, and you waited for him in front of the Fortress' entrance. Dressed in a pretty outfit, that you kept on for this occasion, you obviously felt amazing. And upon seeing you, Wriothesley grinned. “Someone made herself extra beautiful for today.„

His tone flirty, he wraps his left arm around your waist and pulls you close, pressing his lips on your hair. “It suits you perfectly. But you're always beautiful.„ his words meant the world to you.

And so began the day. Wriothesley is careful, meticulous even. He makes sure you stay hydrated, well fed and have fun. If you want a pastry, he'll buy it without a second thought. This piece of jewerly looks pretty on you? He'll offer it to you, no matter the cost.

It's weird for everyone to see the Duke out of the Fortress. He's respected for sure, and well known. You hold hands all day long, sometimes stealing kisses when you're in a alley or when no one's looking.

When the sun fades away to let the moon takes place, stars show up too. Now sitting near the water, you both look up at the navy blue sky. Wriothesley lets out a sigh and clears his throat. “I hope you had fun. I'm not sure when I'd be capable to have such a long time outside the Fortress without it being work related.„

Sure or not, you're just happy he manages to have time for you. And he's relieved everything went smoothly. He leans closer to you, his lips grazing your cheek. “Happy birthday.„

And even if it has caused him some stress, he's ready to do it over again next year if it makes him see your eyes so sparkly and shiny with delightment and happiness.

He'd risk anything to see you smile and hear your laughers echoing in his ears.

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹｡ₓ ू ₒ ु ˚ ‧̫‧ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛-

The good part of being a detective is that he knows how to not leave any clue about his true intentions. And so, he can surprise you whenever he wants and you won't even realise he has planned it for a while!

Since Heizou can hardly take a day off recently, you agreed it'd be better if you spend the day with your friends and just leave your evening for him.

It was an amazing day, your friends and you strolled around the city, went to some fancy places and just spoiled you entirely. But it felt off, knowing that Heizou wasn't with you like you wished he could've.

They dropped you by your house, and with a sigh, you stepped inside. Of course Heizou wasn't home yet. It wasn't surprising, he's quite overwhelmed with work lately. Yet there was a small disappointment in your chest. Your heart was a bit heavier. But you brush it off.

By the time he gets home, you had just finished preparing dinner. He steps closer with that shitty grin and clears his throat. “Such a sweetie, making dinner when I hoped I'd have time to treat you today.„ of course, he doesn't want you to do any effort for today, but his schedule decided otherwise.

And so, with a swift movement, he shoves a bouquet against your chest. “I know it isn't much compared to how it could've been nicer to spend the day together, but I hope it'll make it up for it a bit.„

Heizou has always been a romantic at heart, he loves it when he sees your cheeks flushing and feels your breath growing faster from his teasing. And he's delighted to see that sweet blush spreading slowly.

Leaning in close, he takes your hands in his, and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “Let's eat dinner and enjoy the time we have tonight, alright? I need to make it up for you.„

He lets you take care of the bouquet first, ensuring it won't die just yet. He teases you about your day, plays with you some games and even let you win for once. And needless to say the night ends in something.. more than just flirt and teasing.

But he hopes next year won't be as busy, so he can treat you like the princess you are in his eyes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ☽ ✧˖*°࿐ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A gambler. That's what he'll always be no matter what, no matter the day. He needs to work every single day, to be a good asset for the IPC. He can't afford losing. He will never accept it.

But today, Aventurine thought it'd be nice to let you experience gambling too. Well, not as much as he usually does, but more in a regular casino. He's obviously well known here, and has some free drinks. But he wants you to enjoy it too.

He teaches you how to do, the ropes of each games. To guess when to stop, and more importantly of course, to understand the rules and that losing can cost a lot. But deep down, Aventurine doesn't give a fuck about how much money you'll lose. He has way more than someone can think of.

Each games were fun, but you hated seeing those girls eyeing him like you don't exist. Don't they see you, the gorgeous girl sitting next to him, with who he holds hands? Or perhaps they don't care. But it frustrates you.

Even more so when one comes closer and accidentally spills wine on Aventurine's jacket. He doesn't react at first. But he grows more and more impatient as she tries to clean her mess.

But he got fed up when she literally sat in between the both of you. Who does she think she is? “Excuse me, Miss,„ with a dry chuckle and bright smile, he stands up and walks behind her, “don't you see her?„

Swiftly, almost as if he has always been ready for it, he pulls you close, your head resting on his chest. Your face flushes bright red of course, but you don't say anything. “She already holds the string. And compared to you, she doesn't care about my money. So if you please, do not dare to bother us further on her special day.„

He leads you away, and yet, casts them a last glance, “Except if you want to face the consequences, that is. But I doubt you would like it.„

He'd never let anyone makes you feel inferior, nor worthless, and even less when it's supposed to be your day. The day he caters to your every need without any complaint or question.

Upon arriving to a new game, away from those nuisance, he holds your hand in his, pressing his forehead against yours. “I'm sorry, darling. But I promise you, you're the only one in my eyes. The prettiest, the cutest, and the most loveable woman I've ever set my eyes on.„

He'd cherish you. He knows the pain, and he wants to keep you away from it. He struggles at time, but every effort is worth of your smile. Every day is a delight to get home to you, to know you're his, and that he's yours.

That he has a home. A home with you.

☆.｡.:*　❥　-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-　☽　.｡.:*☆

What were you thinking when you first confessed to him? Of course you thought he'd reject you. We're talking about Veritas Ratio. But to your surprise, he accepted! But maybe you should've been careful... He's a teacher.

It isn't uncommon for Veritas Ratio to call you stupid or dumb, because you don't understand something or that you made a mistake on something simple. But you also know he'll always be here for you.

Compared to one of his colleage, he isn't particularly rich. Don't get me wrong, he is completely financially stable, and he won't be anytime soon the type to get ruined. But basically, if you need special teaching in something he doesn't master, he won't hesitate to help you with it.

He can't help but put intellect into a bit everything he does. But he knows it can piss you off at times, especially when it's not the moment for it.

Today, he has a long day. Longer than intended. So you nicely bring him lunch. Yet he requests of you to stay until his break is over. You know he isn't one to care about birthdays, but he does remember them if he is supposed to know them. Yours is no exception.

“I'm going to be home later than usual tonight, but perhaps you have any wish for how we spend our time?„ it isn't often that he lets you so openly choose. But you don't wait more time to ask if you could watch a movie and snuggle. You need nothing more than some rest, and so does he.

Laughers fill the empty classroom, except for the both of you. He knows when to not overdo it, especially with you. He will never admit it entirely, but he doesn't want to risk losing you. He can't. Not when you bring him so much by just existing.

There's a reason why he doesn't want you to be to close to that blonde, don't you think? But it doesn't matter.

In the evening, after you shared dinner, you set on the couch with him, snuggling up. His left hand caressing your side while his right one is holding a pen. Of course he can't only watch a movie, he needs to keep on going with his paperwork. But he doesn't entirely focus on it.

However, from time to time, you'd hear from Veritas that he clicks his tongue. He seems rather.. unpleased. And when you take a look, you don't see anything wrong. “Of course you don't, you're too much of an idiot to realise that student's mistake. What a pity.„

Unfortunately for you, you dared to ask what was the mistake.. and now you're in for a lecture. He sits you up and explains to you, in a rather annoyed tone. It isn't a surprise to say that you both don't even noticed when the movie has finished.

You're about to stand up when he holds you back, pulling you in his lap. “Don't you dare run away from my lecture. You asked to know, so you'll know.„ It promises to be an interesting evening and night, especially if you try to push your luck.

Veritas will make sure you get the appropriate punishment if his patience runs out by the time he's done with you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ੈ✩‧₊˚ೃ⁀➷˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚.ೃ࿐

Have you ever imagined he'd steal your heart? A detective by day, a Phantom Thief by night. He earned his title well, he's definitely a prince in your eyes.

“Are you still listening?„ Akechi inquires. You have to admit, you weren't. You were too charmed into his eyes, shining as he shares his day with you.

“I've been thinking, there's an amusement park not far from here. Would you like to go with me?„ he asks. He isn't really scared of asking you on a date anymore. Of course, he couldn't help but feel like he isn't enough at times. But you love him, right? He can't let his insecurities win over.

And so, you are now on a date with him, on your birthday. He cares for a bit everything. He makes sure the sun isn't hitting you too hard, that you drink enough, and especially have fun.

You're the only one lucky enough to see him almost constantly out of his detective prince persona. To know the real him. He has his issues, and sometimes he may snaps at you. But he apologises and proves that he changes. He already does, but he tries to make sure you know he's willing to become better for you.

You're his light, and he can't lose you. At first, he even thought you loved that coffee shop's employee, but he felt lucky when you reciprocated his feelings.

Since then, Akechi would take you out often. To the beach, at restaurant, or even just for a walk. He wants you to know he cares, and he wants you only. He needs to be careful though, but he makes it work out.

Getting into a bit every attractions, he even ends up winning you a teddy bear. No one is ever too old for one after all, right? As he hands it to you, he presses a kiss on your lips, soft and tender, as if he wants the time to stop.

The sun sets slowly, and you get into the Ferris Wheel to end up the day. It's cozy, just the two of you. He holds you close, his nose in your hair as he breathes in your scent. “Happy birthday, my love.„

Why would he need to say anything more? Your heart races, and you look up at him with a sheepish smile. No one can mistake that expression on both of your faces. You're so undeniably in love with each other.

“I know I fucked up, especially when you discovered what I've done. But I'll become better. For you, and for us. So please, stay with me.„ he couldn't help but squeezing you tighter against him, as if you won't allow him time.

“I love you. So fucking much.„ he whispers as the sun disappears from view, letting the moon rise slowly. He'll always do his best for you, to be worthy of you.

Because he loves you. And he'll make every birthday from now on special for you.

·:¨༺ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　✮　☄. *. ⋆ ༻¨:·

It took him time to allow himself to be vulnerable in front of you. To allow you to see the worst part of him. To see the monster beneath. He was certain he'd lose you. And yet, you're still here, beside him.

William is more than delighted to know you aren't ready to leave him. To know you'll stay. He doesn't entirely understand his feelings himself, but he has them, and that's all that matters.

To say William cares about birthdays is an understatement. He doesn't make big things, but he shows his care for sure. So don't you dare think you'll be an exception.

He has been quite busy lately, but he made sure he'd be here for your birthday. From waking to sleep. He stays in bed with you until you stir awake. Your eyes flutter open, the first sight being his blonde locks.

He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead and lets you get ready while he goes preparing breakfast for you. Going downstairs, you smell the sweet scent of food filling your nose.

He serves you, as well as himself, before eating and letting you talk of whatever comes in your mind. He could listen to you all day long, but today wasn't that. He'd spend some quality time with you, no matter what.

He helps you putting on your coat, and holds your hand as you get inside the carriage. He feels your head resting on his shoulder, and he simply caresses the back of your hand with his thumb.

Getting into town, he dismisses the carriage for now. No need for that. He wants you to enjoy the place. If there's something appealing to you, he'll be ready to let you have it. But in the end, he's mostly the one who wants to buy you things.

A beautiful necklace, it'd go perfectly around your neck. Gesturing you to get closer, he carefully puts it around your neck and smiles. “It looks beautiful on you.„ his voice, smooth and quiet, holds so much love. Without hesitation, he buys it for you.

You walk hands in hands, past bakeries and shops, stopping when something would be nice for you. You're definitely spoiled, and it was unexpected for you. You aren't with William for his money, and he knows it. But today, he wants to make sure you'll remember it.

By the evening, inside the carriage to get back home, he lets you rest against him. It has been a tiring day after all, yet so thrilling. But the best was to come in his eyes.

Entering the manor, the living room has been decorated especially for you, a bouquet from Fred's garden waiting as well as a freshly baked cake by Louis. And they were all here too. Well, some like Sebastian aren't so happy, but they could make that effort.

He has planned it all, and it was worth it. For that smile, those happy tears, and those laughers and happiness filling the manor for the rest of the evening.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚︵‿︵‿୨✧༺♥༻∞୧‿︵‿︵‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

He has never been much of a talker. Ever since you both met, he mostly listened to you, no matter what you'd say. And he has a great memory too.

Fred is a caring man, he just stays quiet. He doesn't want to be noticed, he likes his tranquility, despite the circumstances of his current work under William. He absolutely adores the idea of being in charge of the garden, though.

He doesn't show it, but he appreciates plants and flowers. And whenever you may search him, you always find him there. He's peacefully repotting some flowers, to make sure they can grow further.

His head snaps up when you ask him if you can help. “Shouldn't you.. be with the others, celebrating your birthday..?„ he's unsure. He looks at you with suspicions, but in the end, he relents. You must have your reasons to not be celebrating it with them.

He loves spending time with you, but he doesn't want you to restrain yourself from having a good time just because he's tending to flowers.

But when he sees you, right here, with a smile as you carefully move a flower, it feels him with joy. He doesn't show his love much, he does it through small gestures like making sure there's always some of your favourite flowers in the bedroom for the scent. Or to stay with you throuhough breakfast.

It's those small gestures that makes you love him even more each day. And you just want to spend time with him, especially today.

He shyly scoots closer to you, to correct you. “You shouldn't be doing it like that.. it can hurt the roots.„ he doesn't scold you, he just tries to teach you.

Yet, he doesn't move away once done. He stays close. Until he gathered the courage to press his lips against your temple. “Happy birthday.„

It's cute, the way he quickly walks away to care for other plants. But you just thank him quietly. The day passes in a blur, and without even noticing, the moon is in the sky, and you're both still in the greenhouse.

He holds you tight against him, the garden not over yet but it's too late to keep working. And he has cut a rose to give you, making sure to also cut the thorns so you can't get hurt.

“We should head back inside, it's getting cold.„ he helps you up, until you're both home. He even helps to wash your hands, in your sleepy state.

He never thought he'd enjoy gardening with someone so much, and yet..

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuchi's property. do not repost, copy or translate without permission.

[sinnerjannik]

team usa (men’s artistic gymnastics) headers

like reblog if you save x

- requested (part II here) 🇺🇸