#i am a calm and patient person
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
#through gritted teeth:#i am a calm and patient person#things on the internet do not bother me#presume good intentions. benefit of the doubt. presume good intentions. benefit of the doubt. presume good intentions. benef
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
spiritually banging my head against a wall. every time i start having respiratory/throat/chest symptoms from my mcas, I immediately flash back to all the times I've had anaphylaxis and get terrible anxiety. Survival mechanism, yes. But also... I am not having fun and I have not had full blown anaphylaxis since the early days of post mold exposure. so like. let's take a deep breath and calm down, body
#vent#personal#mcas#might delete later im just grumpy right now#i get a tight chest and im like. SHIT. anaphylaxis?? mcas getting worse???? epipen?????#ive only needed the epi immediately once but that was enough#overwhelmed because I just want to find a doctor that can help me manage this shit but there are no specialists around here so#my options rn are an immunologist in maryland or a gi in louisiana...#my pcp is like yeah you prob have mcas and i have other patients w mcas but he isnt comfy managing my mcas or prescribing my cromolyn bc he#not a specialist!! which is fair enough!!!#completely understanding thirteen being scared to death in you dont want to know when she has tremors. and thinking its her huntingtons#bc i feel my chest and immediately think 'is this my mcas. am i being horrendously triggered by mold again'#the momentary dread of 'is it getting bad' before I can calm myself down (stress can make reactions WORSE 🫠)#differential diagnosis
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
i am getting so close to genuine violence with all this ai shit. i have used my notes app as a personal journal and writers notebook since i was thirteen fucking years old. it has some of my most vulnerable moments and greatest joys and hopes on there and the fact that i have to open it every time now and see a glaring "AI ASSISTANCE :D" button right and center genuinely makes me want to break my fucking phone
if anyone knows how to get rid of the icon entirely in the notes app i will kiss you straight on the mouth i swear to god
#through gritted teeth. if i cant fucking stop it then i need to get used to it bc this constant panic will only hurt me#but also god it feels like a slap in the face every time#i dont fucking need assistance in organizing my shit. THIS IS MY HOUSE. KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF#anti ai#mossy speaks#anyways. im fine and calm and patient. lord i am fine and calm and patient#personal
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Klapaucius and Trurl ponysonas. If you even care.
#featherglum art#the cyberiad#blorbo from my books#cyberiada#robot character#stanisław lem#mlp au#ponyfication#ponified#i am cringe but i am free#i originally considered making them both alicorns#due to the big brain 4d chess moves they're always pulling#and their overall omnipotence#but I ultimately decided against it#because them being different types goes better with their different personalities#like Trurl being a unicorn means he can do things faster with magic#which fits with him being the more impulsive one#and Klapaucius as an earth pony has to#do everything by hoof and take his time#so it fits with him being calm and more patient#d.does that mean anything to anyone#and yes they have matching cutiemarks ^_^
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nothing pisses me off more than when people talk about my friendships with mid-support needs autistics and other people with differently-wired brains as if I am descending to help them because I’ve taken them on as a charity case. That is NOT true. Oh they’re a burden because they’re neurodivergent? WELL GUESS FUCKING WHAT: SO AM I! THE REASON I HAVE SO MANY FRIENDS WITH SO MUCH SHIT WRONG WITH THEM IS BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF SHIT WRONG WITH ME. WE ATTRACT EACH OTHER! WE LIKE EACH OTHER! IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND!
#How about I just start strangling ableists from now on?#Would THAT convince them I’m actually this person’s real friend?#Literally nothing I say to them is able to get through their dense fucking skulls—#as if it’s sooooo hard for them to believe I actually enjoy their company#Also (halfway unrelated): if I hear “It takes a special person to work with special children” one more time I am going to SCREAM#Tell me I’m calm; tell me I’m patient; tell me I’m creative— do NOT tell me I’m “special” for doing a job I LOVE#Can you imagine telling a quantum physics major “It takes a special person to solve special math problems?”#😂💀 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I’m gonna start saying that to people from other professions. To see how they like it.#The children are not a burden to me; the children are very enjoyable to be around#and I enjoy troubleshooting what is preventing them from learning and coming up with workarounds for them#I made a glued roll of paper for a kid who constantly peels their skin because I saw them peeling crayons#It works!#I made math problems into a Skibidi Toilet role playing game for another kid who hides under tables when it’s time to work. It works!#You know why I was able to come up with either of these inventions? Huh? You wanna fucking know?#1.) I peel my lips and mouth and palms of my hands and calluses and cuticles and scabs; and#2.) I have awful executive dysfunction and have to do weird stuff to engage myself#People talk to me like I’m one of the “normal” ones; little do they know I’m getting assessed for ADHD and score 142 on the RAADS-R#and I essentially self-destruct when I get mad so I don’t break valuable items or punch through drywall and oak doors#I give myself bruises that swell a half inch high and form hematomas under the skin#I think I’ve permanently weakened the blood vessels and a vein in my right thigh from beating it so much#because it only takes one well-placed blow on my right; but several blows to my left#And I can see the bruise pooling towards my heart along the path of that vein from day to day after the initial beating#and sometimes it just randomly aches when it’s not injured; so I have to shift my weight when the kids sit in my lap wrong#so with that and something else I did to it not super recently that I should have gone to urgent care for… I probably have nerve damage lol#so it’s gross when people say such things about other NDs to me as if I am above them#Just fuck off already
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think I've been touchy lately about my feelings of access to/participation in generativity. I've been feeling really overwhelmed lately by how much needs doing and how much disparate but necessary information I'm keeping in my head. I should probably get back into my thought maps for the work on the yard and house, because I think that will make it easier for me to empty my head when I'm not actively trying to work on something.
#i'm feeling a sinking recognition that i need to build a life for myself that's functional#even if it means accepting norms that i have been trying to cight for a long time in my relationships#boundaries are weird and hard and i've never been particularly good at them#but if the comversations i have with my clients are anything to go by#i have a solid understanding of how to identify and communicate them#i just don't seem to have the will to stand by my decision when push comes to shove#so people around me carry on doing what they've always done#and going all shocked pikachu face when i finally collect myself enough to remind them exactly how i feel about their behavior#oh i have no idea you felt like this!!!#why are you so angry and snappish all the time?????#i just don't have any idea what else you expect from me i already spend all my time thinking about what i expect you to expect of me?#what do you mean that's not the same thing as actually having open lines of communication with me and treating me like awhole fuckin person#i work so hard not to take my frustration out on anyone#to be kind and calm and clear when I talk#to love the things about them that i love and enjoy the time with them that i enjoy without feeling compelled to seek disappointment#asking for more or different just won't happen so what's the point of looking to feel hurt#and i do have a lot of different areas of my life that fulfill different needs of mine#so i understand that i'm lucky and should really probably accept that i am much less alone than I often feel#i just wish i had someone in my life who was both willing and able to see all of me with affection#or at least. someone who was willing and able to take on that role and who I am willing and able to trust with the role#therapy helps#my new therapist is nice and seems open and understanding#but i understand our relationship probably better than most patients given the circumstances#i know how important it is that she never be more than a facilitator of space in my life#she seems good at doing that and i appreciate having the space again#i don't really know what i want anymore but i know i'm tired of feeling unwelcome in my wholeness of self
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Feeling like the most annoying, worst patient in the history of medical patients because I can't stop calling my oral surgeon (for a procedure that was done a week ago AND I had a follow-up already) and I can't stop messaging my general practitioner (a doctor I literally just got a week and a half ago)
#personal#I am literally the poster child for hypochondria.#And not in the 'I'm gonna die.' ways. Just in the 'My mind is thinking I'm in the worst possible scenario.' ways.#Patient portals for GP's are a Godsend but terrible for me because I keep messaging him with every little concern.#<- And some of them are literally just my anxiety creating pain for me.#And it's the same for my surgery. The doc said I'm healing FINE at the follow up and I still can't calm down LMAOOO#I'm still waiting for this BuSpar to kick in. It's done nothing for me yet.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
dont fucking sob emoji me there was no need??
#i am being patient i will be aptient i will be calm and normal and aptient about this i will be very patient i am a patient person i am#/nbh !!!!!!!
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#things i am excited about at my new job#it's nice to SEE AND INTERACT WITH PEOPLE EVERY DAY#jesus between covid and working from home that was getting seriously hard for me to achieve#i find the subject matter interesting (it's medical stuff and helping patients which is way more interesting to me than the finance shit#i was doing at my last job where i just like helped financial advisors get richer)#my bosses are kinda young and cool which is nice because mostly i have worked for boomer men older than my dad#i get to people watch and learn new things and it's challenging but not TOO overwhelmingly difficult#it's admin stuff which i kinda enjoy in a dorky sim management job sort of way (i do that kind of shit for fun in video games all the time)#the one thing im worried about rn is that the person who's training me that im filling in for is leaving soon and they're my fave part#of coming to work right now because i just like hanging out with them and they have like this hypnotically soothing aura#and sweet kind personality so im afraid once theyre gone (a) i will suck at doing it all without them and#(b) it just wont be nearly as nice but#i must think positive thoughts and hopefully i can use their mentorship as inspiration too#i spent all last year failing at being a self directed online student and juggling random part time shit so i am SO GLAD#to have full time work and work that isnt horribly boring and lonely like the finance work from home one before it#ps the person who is training me worked for 12 years as a 911 emergency phone operator if you want a picture of how calm and nice they are#like they can make anything seem ok and fine and remain calm no matter what and their voice is the gentlest thing on earth lol#i get free asmr all day basically#p
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
i feel like iggy only snaps once during the blight, and it's when morrigan says that circle mages "allow themselves to be corralled like cattle".
#ooc / delete.#// iggy: i am a calm and patient person. i never get angry.#// morrigan starting to say something snarky about circle mages:#// iggy: SHUT!!!#// beware the fury of a patient man. that's all i'm gonna say.#// ''now their masters have chosen death for them and i say let them have it.''#// that line makes me feel ill actually.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do-Over
Logan Sargeant x Andretti!Reader
Summary: Logan drowns his sorrows after being dropped by Williams and passes out in 2024 … he wakes up slightly hungover and very much in 2022 (aka the time travel fix-it fic)
Logan’s hands are shaking.
He’s staring at the email on his phone, reading it over for the third time, hoping the words will somehow rearrange themselves into something different. But they don’t. The screen doesn’t lie, and neither does the cold, detached tone of James Vowles.
Logan, I’m sorry to inform you that Williams Racing has decided to terminate your contract effective immediately. Your performance this season has not met the team’s expectations, and the decision has been made to move forward without you for the remaining races. We believe this is in the best interest of the team as a whole. You’ll find the details of the termination and the necessary steps moving forward in the attached document.
His eyes blur, and he forces himself to blink, trying to hold it together. He knows what this means — his F1 career, the thing he’s worked for his entire life, is over. And it’s not ending with a bang, but with a fucking email.
A knock on the door snaps him back to the present. He looks up, swallowing hard as James walks in without waiting for permission, just like he always does.
“Logan,” James begins, his voice calm, almost clinical. “We need to talk.”
“I got the email,” Logan mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Is this really how it’s going to end?”
James’s face is unreadable. “We’ve discussed this at length. The crashes, the lack of progress … it’s just not working out. The engineers and mechanics are frustrated. We’ve been more than patient.”
Logan feels a wave of anger rising in his chest, but he pushes it down. He knows it won’t help. “So that’s it? Nine races left, and you’re just … dropping me?”
“It’s not an easy decision,” James replies, crossing his arms. “But we have to think about the team. We can’t afford any more setbacks.”
“Setbacks,” Logan echoes, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That’s all I am to you? A setback?”
James hesitates, his expression softening for just a moment. “Logan, you’re talented, but this sport is ruthless. You know that.”
“Don’t,” Logan snaps, his voice sharp. “Don’t try to soften the blow now. You could’ve at least told me in person, before sending the damn email.”
James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it seems cold, but this is the reality of Formula 1. You’ll land on your feet. You’ve got potential.”
“Potential,” Logan mutters under his breath. “That’s not going to get me back in a car, is it?”
There’s a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. Logan feels like the walls are closing in, the air in the room growing thicker with each passing second.
“I’m sorry,” James says finally, and for the first time, he sounds genuine. “I really am.”
“Yeah,” Logan replies, his voice hollow. “Me too.”
James lingers for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but there’s nothing that can fix this. Nothing that can make it right. Finally, he nods and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.
Logan stands there, staring at the door, his mind racing. This can’t be happening. It feels like some kind of nightmare, one he can’t wake up from. But the harsh reality is setting in. It’s over. All those years, all that effort, and it’s over just like that.
He sinks down onto the couch, his head in his hands. His chest feels tight, like he can’t get a full breath. He needs to get out of here, but he has no idea where to go. Where do you go when your dreams have just been crushed?
His gaze falls on the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small kitchen counter. He bought it a few years ago, intending to open it after a win that never came. The irony isn’t lost on him.
Logan pushes himself up and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and a glass. He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and puts the glass back. What’s the point of pretending there’s any dignity left in this?
He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink, the burn of the alcohol offering a brief distraction from the pain gnawing at his insides. He leans against the counter, staring out the window at the darkening sky. How the hell did it come to this?
He’s replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity, every race where he could’ve done better. It’s a torturous cycle, one that he can’t escape. He takes another drink, then another, hoping to drown out the thoughts, to numb the ache in his chest.
But it doesn’t work. The alcohol just makes it worse, amplifying the guilt and the regret. He feels like a failure. No, he is a failure. The team didn’t even have the decency to let him finish the season. That’s how little they think of him.
The room starts to blur around the edges as the whiskey takes effect, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He’s spiraling, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. This is the only way he knows how to cope, the only way to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.
Hours pass, or maybe minutes — he’s lost track of time. The bottle is nearly empty now, and he’s slumped on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. What’s the point?
The apartment is silent except for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. It’s eerie, this quiet, and it makes the emptiness inside him feel even more profound.
Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The screen is cracked from a previous fall — one of many — but it still works. There are messages from friends, from his family, but he doesn’t open them. He knows what they’ll say. They’ll be supportive, encouraging, but it won’t change anything. They can’t fix this.
Instead, he opens his camera roll and scrolls through the photos. Pictures of him in the car, of the team, of moments that once meant everything to him. Now they’re just reminders of what he’s lost.
He stops on a photo of himself, taken just after he signed with Williams. He looks so damn happy, so full of hope. He barely recognizes that person now.
“What a joke,” he mutters to himself, his voice slurred. “What a fucking joke.”
He takes one last drink from the bottle, then tosses it aside, not caring as it rolls across the floor. He feels the darkness closing in, pulling him under, and for once, he doesn’t fight it. He lets it take him, lets it drown out the pain, the regret, the fear.
And as he finally drifts into unconsciousness, the last thought that crosses his mind is that maybe — just maybe — he deserves this.
***
Logan wakes with a start, his head pounding, the taste of stale whiskey thick on his tongue. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the assault of the light streaming through the windows. His whole body feels like it’s been put through a blender — sore, achy, heavy. But it’s not just the hangover, it’s the weight of everything, of what happened yesterday.
He takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he sits up, his hands pressing into the bed beneath him. Except, the texture’s wrong. It’s not the rough fabric of his apartment’s couch or even the smooth, cool sheets he’s used to.
Logan’s eyes snap open, and he looks around, confusion crashing over him like a cold wave. He’s not in his apartment. The walls are different — cleaner, the color a familiar light blue he hasn’t seen in years. The bed is narrow, uncomfortable, with plain white sheets. There’s a desk pushed against the far wall, a locker in the corner with his name printed on it in block letters.
This isn’t his apartment. This is … his driver’s room. The one he used when he was driving for Carlin in Formula 2.
“What the hell …” Logan mutters, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of it. He must still be drunk. Or maybe he’s dreaming. But no — he can feel the dull ache in his temples, the dryness in his throat, the uncomfortable press of the mattress beneath him. This is too real to be a dream.
But it doesn’t make any sense. The last thing he remembers is passing out in his apartment after finishing nearly a whole bottle of whiskey. He was a mess. He is a mess. But here he is, waking up in a place he hasn’t seen since 2022, a place that shouldn’t exist in his present reality.
Panic starts to set in. He fumbles for his phone, which is miraculously still in his pocket. The screen lights up, showing the date and time.
September 10th, 2022.
His heart stops. That’s impossible. It’s been two years. Two years since this date. His mind races, trying to piece together what the hell is happening, but nothing fits. He’s not in 2024 anymore. Somehow, he’s back in 2022.
It’s the only explanation, but it’s insane. None of this is possible. It’s not even like those vague dreams where everything’s familiar but distant. This is his life two years ago, down to the worn fabric of the team jacket hanging on the back of the door.
Before he can spiral any further, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Logan barely has time to react before it swings open, and Gary Catt, his manager, strides in with his usual briskness, already talking before the door is fully open.
“Logan, I just got off the phone with Jost Capito,” Gary says, his voice all business, not noticing Logan’s stunned expression. “Williams wants you. They want to lock you in for next season. It’s the best possible scenario. This is it, Logan — this is what we’ve been working toward.”
Logan feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. This conversation — he remembers it. It happened. Gary, standing in this very room, telling him the exact same thing, with the exact same excitement in his voice. The memory is vivid because it changed everything. It was the start of his F1 career. And also … the start of everything that led to that email.
“Logan?” Gary’s voice cuts through the fog in Logan’s mind, pulling him back to the present. “Are you even listening? This is huge, mate. You’re going to be in F1.”
Logan’s throat is dry, his mind racing with possibilities, with consequences. He remembers how he felt the first time he heard these words — pure elation, followed by a rush of nerves. But now, with the knowledge of what’s to come, all he feels is dread.
This is his chance to change things. To make sure it doesn’t end the way it did yesterday. He’s been given a do-over, a second chance, and he can’t afford to mess it up.
Logan takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Gary,” he says, his voice rough from sleep and the alcohol, “I don’t think I should take the offer.”
Gary stops mid-stride, turning to face Logan with a look of utter disbelief. “What did you just say?”
“I don’t think I should take the offer,” Logan repeats, more firmly this time, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s too soon.”
“Too soon?” Gary looks at him like he’s just sprouted another head. “Logan, this is Williams. It’s F1. There is no such thing as ‘too soon’ when an opportunity like this comes around. What are you talking about?”
Logan stands up, pacing the small room, trying to gather his thoughts. How does he explain this without sounding completely insane? He can’t tell Gary what he knows — what he’s seen, what’s happened. But he also can’t go down the same path again. Not when he knows where it leads.
“I just … I don’t think I’m ready,” Logan says, finally turning to face Gary. “If I rush into F1 now, it could end badly. I need more time. More experience.”
Gary’s expression shifts from disbelief to concern. “Logan, listen to yourself. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life. You’re as ready as anyone can be. If you pass this up, there’s no guarantee another chance like it will come along. You know that.”
Logan shakes his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but … I have a feeling that if I take this now, it’ll be a mistake. A big one. I’ll end up in a situation where I’m not able to deliver, where the pressure is too much. And that’s not good for anyone — me, the team, my career.”
Gary is silent for a long moment, studying Logan with an intensity that makes him squirm. “Where’s this coming from? You were over the moon about this before. What changed?”
Logan hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just … I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. About what I want my career to look like. And I don’t want to be one of those drivers who gets rushed into F1 and then crashes out because they weren’t ready. I want to do it right. I want to be fully prepared.”
“You don’t get to be fully prepared in this sport,” Gary says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “This is Formula 1. It’s sink or swim, and you know that. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this, Logan.”
Logan feels a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He knows Gary is right, in a way. This is F1. It’s not supposed to be easy. But he also knows that if he takes this offer, if he goes down the same road, it’ll end in disaster.
“I get that,” Logan says, his voice firm. “But I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to take the seat. Not this time.”
Gary stares at him, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Logan, this could be career suicide. You understand that, right?”
Logan nods, swallowing hard. “I do. But I’d rather take that risk than go into something I know I’m not ready for and crash out in a blaze of failure. I can’t do that. I won’t.”
Gary runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “This isn’t like you. You’re not one to back down from a challenge. Why are you doing this?”
Because I know how it ends, Logan thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “Because I want to do this right. I want to have a long career in F1, not a short one that ends in disappointment. And to do that, I need to be smart about the choices I make now.”
Gary lets out a slow breath, clearly conflicted. “This is … I don’t even know what to say, Logan. You’re turning down a seat in F1. That’s not something you do lightly.”
“I’m not doing it lightly,” Logan assures him, though his heart is racing. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and it’s the right decision for me.”
There’s a long silence as Gary processes this. Logan can almost see the gears turning in his head, the calculations, the weighing of options. He knows how hard this must be for Gary to accept — hell, it’s hard for Logan to accept, and he’s the one making the decision. But he has to stick to his guns. He has to believe that this is the right choice.
Finally, Gary lets out a resigned sigh. “Alright, Logan. If this is really what you want, I’ll back you. But you need to understand the risks. This could close doors for you. Big ones.”
Logan nods, his stomach twisting with anxiety. “I know. But I also know that if I take this now, it could end up closing even more doors in the long run.”
Gary studies him for a long moment, then gives a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll let Jost know. But don’t expect him to be happy about it.”
Logan feels a mixture of relief and dread. “I won’t. But thanks, Gary. I know this isn’t easy.”
Gary gives him a tight smile, still clearly grappling with the decision. “No, it’s not. But you’re the one driving the car, Logan. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”
Logan nods, watching as Gary turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him. He stands there for a moment, taking in the silence, the surrealness of what just happened. He’s just turned down a seat in F1. The one thing he thought he wanted more than anything. But as the anxiety ebbs, a new feeling takes its place — determination.
This time, things are going to be different. He’s going to do it right, even if it means making the hard choices. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. This is his second chance, and he’s not going to waste it.
***
The 2023 F2 season ends in a flurry of champagne, confetti, and flashing cameras. Logan stands on the top step of the podium, the P1 trophy clutched in his hands, a grin splitting his face. He’s done it. He’s proved to everyone — most of all to himself — that he was ready. This time, he didn’t rush, didn’t let the pressure consume him. And it’s paid off. He’s the Formula 2 Drivers’ Champion.
But as the celebration winds down and reality sets in, Logan faces a new challenge. Despite his victory, the F1 grid is full, and F2 champions can’t return to the series. He could take a reserve role, bide his time, wait for a seat to open up. But that’s not what he wants. He’s not willing to spend another year on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity that may never come.
So when the offer from IndyCar comes, Logan doesn’t hesitate. He’s heard the stories — about the speed, the fierce competition, the thrill of racing on ovals. It’s not Formula 1, but it’s still racing at the highest level. And right now, that’s what he needs.
The decision surprises everyone. The media buzzes with speculation, but Logan remains focused. He knows what he’s doing. This is a new path, one that he’s chosen for himself, not because it was expected of him. He’s determined to make it work.
A few weeks later, Logan finds himself in the heart of Indianapolis, standing outside the office of Mario Andretti. The legendary name still carries a weight of history and reverence, even in this new world of racing. It feels surreal, like stepping into a different era of motorsport.
Inside the office, Mario is all business. The contract is laid out on the table between them, a simple piece of paper that represents Logan’s future. Mario goes over the details with the kind of thoroughness that only comes from years of experience, but Logan can barely focus. His mind is racing, thoughts darting between the past season, the unknown future, and the thrill of what he’s about to embark on.
“Everything looks good?” Mario asks, breaking Logan from his thoughts.
Logan blinks, then nods, forcing himself to concentrate. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”
Mario slides the pen across the table. “Then let’s make it official.”
Logan takes the pen, feeling the weight of the moment as he signs his name at the bottom of the contract. It’s done. He’s an IndyCar driver now.
Mario nods in approval, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Welcome to the team, Logan. We’re excited to have you.”
“Thank you,” Logan says, meaning it. This is a new beginning, and he’s ready for it.
They shake hands, and Mario stands, motioning towards the door. “I’d love to chat more, but I’ve got to head out. My granddaughter’s picking me up for lunch.”
Logan heads out of the office, his mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person rounding the corner until it’s too late. They collide, and Logan’s first instinct is to reach out, steadying the person as they stumble backward.
“Whoa, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, his hands gripping her arms as he helps her regain her balance.
“It’s okay,” you reply, laughing softly as you look up at him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Logan’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at you, the apology dying on his lips. You’re beautiful — stunning, even — with eyes that seem to sparkle with life and a smile that’s warm and inviting. For a moment, all he can do is stare, struck by how perfect you seem, like someone who’s stepped straight out of a dream.
“You alright?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study him.
Logan snaps out of it, quickly releasing his hold on you and stepping back. “Yeah, sorry again. I didn’t see you there.”
The door to Mario’s office opens, and the man himself steps out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the scene. “Everything okay out here?”
You turn to your grandfather, smiling brightly. “Just a little bump, Grandpa. Nothing to worry about.”
Mario’s expression softens as he looks at you, the sternness replaced by affection. “Good. I don’t want anyone getting hurt before lunch.”
You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and Logan finds himself smiling along, despite the awkwardness of the situation.
“Logan,” Mario says, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter.”
Logan’s heart skips a beat. This is Mario’s granddaughter? Of course, she is. It makes sense now, the confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. You’re part of a racing dynasty, just like Mario.
“Logan Sargeant,” Mario continues, introducing him to you. “He’s going to be racing with us next season.”
You offer him your hand, your smile never faltering. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Logan takes your hand, feeling a jolt of electricity as your fingers brush against his. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”
You glance at Mario, then back at Logan. “We’re heading out for lunch. You should join us.”
Logan’s mind goes blank for a second, and all he can do is blink at you, trying to process what you just said. “Lunch? With you and … Mr. Andretti?”
You laugh again, and Logan thinks it might be the best sound he has ever heard. “Yeah, with us. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”
“No, no,” Logan stammers, trying to regain some composure. “I’d love to join you.”
Mario claps Logan on the shoulder, his laughter booming through the hallway. “Looks like you’ve made an impression already, kid. Come on, let’s get out of here before the press catches wind of this.”
Logan nods, still somewhat dazed as he follows you and Mario out of the building. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts — about the contract he just signed, the new chapter he’s stepping into, and now, about you. He can’t quite believe his luck. Not only is he starting a new adventure in IndyCar, but he’s also just met someone who, in the span of a few minutes, has completely captivated him.
As they walk to Mario’s car, Logan steals glances at you, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. You seem so at ease, chatting with your grandfather, your laughter punctuating the conversation. There’s a lightness about you, a warmth that’s infectious, and Logan finds himself drawn to it, to you.
“Logan,” you say, turning to him as you reach the car. “So, what made you decide to join IndyCar? It’s not every day an F2 champion makes that leap.”
Logan pauses, caught off guard by the directness of your question. “Well, uh,” he begins, trying to find the right words, “I guess I just wanted something different. F1 wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to sit around waiting for a seat to open up. IndyCar seemed like the right challenge. Something new, but still competitive.”
You nod, clearly intrigued. “That makes sense. It’s a bold move, but I think it’ll pay off.”
“Bold,” Logan repeats, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” you assure him, your eyes sparkling. “I admire people who take risks. Especially when they’re as calculated as yours seems to be.”
Mario clears his throat, a knowing grin on his face as he watches the two of you. “Alright, kids, enough shop talk. Let’s get some food.”
You and Logan exchange a smile before sliding into the back seat of the car. The conversation flows easily, despite Logan’s initial nerves. You ask him about his time in F2, what it was like racing on the different tracks, how he handled the pressure. Logan finds himself opening up more than he expected, the words coming easily under your encouraging gaze.
Mario chimes in every now and then, adding his own insights, but it’s clear he’s content to let the two of you do most of the talking. He watches with an amused glint in his eye, as if he’s already figured out something that Logan is just beginning to realize.
By the time you reach the restaurant, Logan feels like he’s known you for much longer than the short time you’ve actually spent together. There’s an ease between you that he’s rarely felt with anyone else, a connection that seems to have sparked almost instantly.
Inside the restaurant, Mario insists on taking the head of the table, leaving you and Logan to sit across from each other. As you settle in, you continue to ask Logan questions, but now they’re more personal — what does he do outside of racing? What’s his favorite movie? Does he have any hidden talents?
Logan answers as best he can, though he’s still reeling a bit from how quickly this day has turned into something he never expected. He’s just signed with IndyCar, but more than that, he’s sitting across from someone who makes his heart race faster than any car ever could.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Logan,” Mario says suddenly, breaking into the conversation. “I’ve seen a lot of young drivers come and go, but you … you’ve got something special. Just keep your focus, and you’ll go far.”
“Thank you, Mr. Andretti,” Logan says, his voice sincere. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Call me Mario,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “We’re family now, after all.”
Logan smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him at the word “family.” It’s strange, how quickly things have shifted, how he’s gone from a solitary driver trying to make his way in the world to someone who might actually belong here, in this new place, with these new people.
As the lunch continues, Logan finds himself growing more comfortable, the initial awkwardness fading away. You keep the conversation lively, sharing stories about your grandfather, about your own life, and Logan can’t help but be drawn to your passion, your intelligence, your warmth. It’s clear that you’re not just Mario Andretti’s granddaughter — you’re your own person, with your own dreams and ambitions.
Eventually, the meal winds down, and Mario excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but charged, filled with the unspoken things neither of you have quite put into words yet.
“So,” you say, leaning forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips, “what do you think of Indy so far?”
Logan grins, feeling a boldness he didn’t expect. “Well, it just got a whole lot more interesting.”
You laugh, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here.”
“Yeah,” Logan says, his voice softening as he looks at you, really looks at you. “I think I am too.”
You hold his gaze, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels almost like fate.
Before the silence can stretch too long, Mario returns, his phone call finished. He glances between the two of you, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look that makes Logan’s ears burn. “Ready to head out?”
You nod, standing up and giving Logan one last, lingering smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”
Logan stands as well, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”
As you and Mario head out of the restaurant, Logan lingers for a moment, watching you go. He can’t quite believe what just happened, but one thing is certain — his life just got a lot more complicated, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
As he walks out into the bright sunlight, Logan can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He’s taken a leap into the unknown, and it feels like the start of something incredible.
***
The roar of the crowd is deafening, vibrating through the very core of the Speedway as Logan crosses the finish line first. It’s the 107th running of the Indianapolis 500, and he’s just won it. The realization hits him like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath out of him. He’s an Indy 500 champion. In his rookie season, no less.
The engine growls as he coasts to a stop, and for a moment, all he can do is sit there, hands trembling on the steering wheel. His heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he lets out a breathless laugh, disbelief and elation mingling into something indescribable.
“Logan Sargeant wins the Indy 500!” The announcer’s voice echoes through the speakers, barely audible over the cheers of the crowd. He hears it, but it still feels surreal, like something out of a dream.
The pit crew rushes over, the celebration already in full swing as they haul him out of the car. He’s immediately surrounded by a sea of people — team members, media, officials — everyone wanting a piece of this historic moment. But through it all, there’s one thing on his mind. One person.
You.
He’s searching the crowd, trying to spot you among the chaos. His vision is blurred with sweat and tears, but then he sees you — pushing your way through the throng of people, a look of pure joy on your face. You’re clapping, laughing, your eyes shining with pride, and all Logan can think is how he needs to get to you.
But first, there’s tradition to uphold.
One of the crew hands him the iconic bottle of milk, the symbol of victory. Logan takes it, still in a daze, and tilts it back, taking a long swig. The cold liquid is refreshing, cutting through the heat of the moment, and he can’t help but laugh as he lowers the bottle, milk dripping down his chin.
Without hesitation, he lifts the bottle above his head and pours the rest over himself. The milk runs down his face, soaking into his race suit, and the crowd goes wild, the noise level somehow reaching new heights. He feels on top of the world — unstoppable, invincible.
And then he spots you again, closer now, just on the edge of the crowd. Logan doesn’t think, doesn’t pause to consider anything else. He just moves, pushing through the throng of people until he’s standing right in front of you.
You’re smiling up at him, eyes bright with something that makes his heart race faster than it did on the final lap. Before he can stop himself, Logan reaches out, pulls you in, and kisses you.
It’s the kind of kiss that’s been building for months — the culmination of all the moments, all the glances, all the unspoken words between you. You taste like the victory he’s just claimed, like the adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins, like everything he’s been chasing since he first set foot in this world.
When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, milk dripping from Logan’s face and onto yours. You laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.
“You’re lucky I’m not lactose intolerant,” you tease, licking the milk from his lips with a grin that’s both playful and suggestive. “But honestly? It’d be worth it even if I was.”
Logan laughs, a deep, full-bodied sound that comes from a place of pure, unfiltered happiness. He feels like he’s floating, like nothing in the world could possibly bring him down from this high. Not now, not ever.
“Best win of my life,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, still holding you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment disappear.
You tilt your head, still smiling up at him with those eyes that have captivated him from the start. “I’d hope so,” you say softly. “You just won the Indy 500.”
He shakes his head, a playful grin on his face. “No, I mean this.” He gestures between the two of you, the words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning.
For a second, you just stare at him, the noise of the crowd fading into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. And then you’re laughing, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss.
This one is softer, sweeter — less about the heat of the moment and more about the connection between you, the way everything just seems to fit when you’re together. Logan loses himself in it, in you, in this moment that feels like the culmination of everything he’s ever wanted.
When you finally break apart, the noise of the crowd floods back in, the celebration continuing around you. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world.
“Come on,” you say, tugging him towards the podium. “You’ve got a trophy to collect.”
Logan follows, still holding onto your hand, not willing to let you go just yet. The team is waiting, cheering him on, and as they hoist him up onto their shoulders, Logan realizes that this — this moment, this feeling — is what he’s been racing for all along.
Standing on the podium, the trophy in his hands, Logan looks out at the sea of faces, at the fans cheering his name, at the team celebrating their victory. But his eyes find you in the crowd, and that’s where they stay.
You’re smiling up at him, and Logan knows, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The beginning of something incredible, something he never saw coming but can’t imagine living without.
As the anthem plays and the confetti rains down, Logan lifts the trophy high, his heart full to bursting. He’s done it — he’s won the Indy 500. But more than that, he’s found something, someone, who makes all of it mean so much more.
And as he looks down at you, standing there with that bright, beautiful smile, Logan knows that he’s not just a champion. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.
***
The soft hum of the office fills the silence as Logan sits across from Mario, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The past year has been a whirlwind — plenty of IndyCar wins, that unforgettable victory at the Indy 500, and the life he’s built with you by his side. It’s been everything he didn’t know he needed, but now, as he sits in Mario’s office, there’s an air of something significant, something life-altering in the way Mario looks at him.
Mario clears his throat, leaning forward on his desk, hands clasped. “Logan,” he begins, voice steady, serious. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking — planning, actually — and I need to talk to you about something important.”
Logan��s heart skips a beat, the weight of Mario’s words sinking in. He nods, leaning forward slightly, feeling the anticipation coil tight in his chest. “What is it?” He asks, voice steady despite the flurry of nerves.
Mario takes a deep breath, then looks Logan squarely in the eye. “We’re buying Haas F1 Team. The deal’s already in motion, and we’ll be restructuring everything from the ground up to make our entrance into Formula 1 in 2026.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Logan’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he’s not sure if he’s heard Mario correctly. “Formula 1?” He echoes, almost disbelieving. His mind races, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. “You’re serious?”
“As serious as it gets,” Mario replies, his expression unwavering. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Logan. And now, with everything coming together, it’s finally happening. But here’s the thing-” he pauses, his gaze locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt, “I can’t think of anyone better suited to lead this team as our driver than you.”
The words hit Logan like a freight train. He stares at Mario, unable to speak, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Formula 1 has always been the dream, the pinnacle of everything he’s worked for. The chance he thought he’d lost — twice, if he counts the strange twist of fate that had brought him here in the first place.
“Logan, I know this is a lot to take in,” Mario continues, his tone softer now, understanding. “But I believe in you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, in F2, in IndyCar — hell, you won the Indy 500 in your first season. And I know you still have that fire for F1. This is your shot, kid. And I want you to take it.”
Logan feels the lump in his throat as Mario’s words sink in. The room seems to close in around him, the gravity of the moment pressing down like a physical weight. He’s had a lot of success in IndyCar, more than he ever imagined, and it brought him you — his reason to smile, his anchor in the storm. But Formula 1? That’s the dream he’s never fully let go of, even when he tried to convince himself otherwise.
He swallows hard, forcing the words out past the emotion threatening to choke him. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice thick. “I mean, this is … I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance like this.”
Mario smiles, the kind of smile that’s equal parts pride and encouragement. “I know it’s a lot, Logan. And it’s not an easy decision, especially considering everything you’ve built here in IndyCar. But I have no doubt in my mind that you’re the right person for this. You’ve got what it takes to succeed in F1, and I’m not just talking about talent. You’ve got heart, determination, and the ability to learn from your mistakes. That’s what makes a champion.”
Logan’s mind races, the possibilities spinning out in front of him. He thinks about everything he’s worked for, everything he’s achieved. And then he thinks about you — how you’ve been there with him through it all, supporting him, believing in him even when he doubted himself.
He takes a deep breath, his decision already forming in his mind, solidifying with each passing second. “Okay,” he says, meeting Mario’s gaze head-on. “I’ll do it. I want this, Mario. I want to prove to myself that I can do it right this time.”
Mario’s grin widens, and he stands up, offering Logan his hand. “Welcome to Andretti F1 Team. We’re going to do great things together.”
Logan shakes his hand, the reality of it all starting to settle in. He’s going to be a Formula 1 driver again. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, everything he’s ever wanted all over again. As he stands there, absorbing the magnitude of what’s just happened, he feels a strange mix of emotions — elation, fear, anticipation, and something else that he can’t quite name.
Mario walks him to the door, still talking about the next steps, the plans they have for the team, but Logan’s mind is half-focused on something else, someone else. As the door swings open, the conversation comes to a halt. The sight that greets them both brings a grin to Mario’s face and a burst of laughter from Logan.
You’re standing there, your ear pressed to the door, looking guilty as hell when you realize you’ve been caught. You straighten up quickly, trying to play it off, but the blush spreading across your cheeks gives you away.
“Eavesdropping, huh?” Logan teases, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. There’s a lightness in his voice that wasn’t there moments ago, the news already settling into a place of excitement rather than apprehension.
You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, but failing miserably. “I, um … I might have been curious,” you admit, your eyes twinkling with mischief.
Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “Looks like we’ve got a new team spy, Logan. Better watch out.”
Logan can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He steps out of the office, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You know, you didn’t have to spy,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I would’ve told you everything.”
You look up at him, your smile fading slightly as something more serious takes its place in your eyes. “I just … I wanted to know if it was good news,” you say quietly. “I know how much F1 means to you.”
Logan feels his heart clench at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. You’ve always understood him, always known what drives him, what keeps him going. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “It’s great news,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting a second shot at F1, and I’m not going to mess it up this time.”
Your smile returns, bright and full of the same determination he feels. “I know you won’t,” you say confidently. “You’re going to do amazing things, Logie. And I’ll be right there with you.”
Logan’s chest tightens with emotion, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Good thing you won’t have to find out,” you reply, your tone teasing but laced with affection.
Logan’s heart swells, and before he can stop himself, he lifts you off your feet, spinning you around in a circle. You yelp in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the hallway.
He sets you down gently, your laughter fading into a soft smile as you look up at him. There’s a moment of quiet, the world around you fading away as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. Logan leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate, a promise of what’s to come.
When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Logan feels a sense of calm settle over him. Everything is falling into place, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
With you by his side, he knows he can face whatever comes next.
“Ready to take on the world?” You ask, your voice light but your eyes serious.
Logan grins, squeezing your hand. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m ready for anything.”
And with that, he leads you down the hallway, the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.
***
The sun is barely up, casting long shadows across the Albert Park Circuit, but the air is already alive with anticipation. It’s the first day of preseason testing for the 2026 Formula 1 season, and the paddock is buzzing with the usual mix of excitement and nerves.
Teams are unpacking crates, engineers are huddled over laptops, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber is already in the air. But for Logan, walking through the paddock with you on his arm, it feels like stepping into a dream — one he’s worked too damn hard to make a reality.
He adjusts the collar of his Andretti jacket, the weight of the moment not lost on him. This is it. His second chance — though, thanks to the bizarre twist of fate, no one else knows it’s his second. Everyone around him sees a rookie, an American hopeful making his debut with Andretti’s new F1 team. But Logan knows better. He’s here with experience that no one can fathom, and he’s determined not to waste it.
As you walk beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, he can’t help but steal a glance at you. There’s a brightness in your eyes, a mix of pride and excitement that mirrors his own. “You okay?” He asks, squeezing your hand gently.
You look up at him and smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart do a little flip. “I’m more than okay,” you reply. “I’m with you, and we’re about to watch you live your dream. What could be better than that?”
Logan grins, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. You’ve been his rock through everything — the highs, the lows, the strange, unexplainable journey that brought him back here. He’s never been more certain that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
As you make your way through the paddock, heads turn. It’s not just because Logan is here with the legendary Andretti team, but because of the woman at his side. He catches a few curious glances, some surprised, others appreciative, and he can’t blame them. You’re a sight to behold, and he’s proud to be walking in with you.
But then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan spots a familiar face. Oscar Piastri, decked out in McLaren colors, is standing near the entrance to the pit lane, chatting with a few team members. It’s been years since they last spoke properly — back when they were both climbing the ranks in the junior series, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of track.
They were close once, but life pulled them in different directions — Oscar to McLaren, Logan to IndyCar. And now, here they are, both in Formula 1, albeit on different paths.
Logan feels a wave of nostalgia, and before he can overthink it, he’s steering you in Oscar’s direction. As you approach, Oscar looks up, and for a split second, there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it melts into a wide, genuine smile.
“Logan Sargeant,” Oscar says, his Australian accent as thick as ever. He steps forward, hand outstretched, and Logan takes it, shaking firmly. “I’ll be damned. You actually made it.”
Logan chuckles, the sound more relaxed than he feels. “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s been a long road, but here I am.”
Oscar’s smile widens, his grip on Logan’s hand lingering for just a moment longer. “It’s good to see you, mate. I was wondering when you’d show up in F1. Figured you were having too much fun in IndyCar to come back.”
“There was a lot to love about IndyCar,” Logan admits, glancing at you with a fond smile. “But F1 was always the dream, you know? Couldn’t pass up a chance like this.”
Oscar nods, understanding clear in his expression. “I get it. And with Andretti, no less. That’s a hell of a team to start with. You’re going to shake things up around here, I can tell.”
Logan shrugs, trying to play it cool even as his heart pounds with the reality of it all. “That’s the plan. But enough about me. How’s life at McLaren? You guys ready to give us a run for our money?”
Oscar laughs, the sound light and easy. “Always. McLaren’s been working their asses off, and I’m feeling good about this season. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because we’re old friends.”
Logan grins, feeling the competitive spark that’s always driven him reignite. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve gone wheel-to-wheel. I’m looking forward to it.”
Oscar’s gaze shifts to you, his curiosity evident. “And who’s this?” He asks, his tone polite but genuinely interested.
Logan’s grin softens as he looks at you. “This is my better half,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “She’s the one who keeps me sane.”
You smile at Oscar, offering your hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Oscar. Logan’s told me a lot about you.”
Oscar shakes your hand, his smile warm and welcoming. “All good things, I hope.”
“Mostly,” you tease, throwing Logan a playful glance.
Logan laughs, feeling a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s good to be here, good to be surrounded by the familiar banter and camaraderie that he’s missed. He knows the road ahead is going to be tough — F1 is nothing if not ruthless — but with you by his side and old friends welcoming him back, he feels more ready than ever to face whatever comes his way.
Oscar steps back, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Well, I’d better let you guys get settled in. But hey, we should catch up properly later. Maybe grab a drink after testing?”
Logan nods, appreciating the offer. “Definitely. It’s been too long.”
As Oscar walks away, Logan watches him for a moment, the memories of their shared past mingling with the excitement of the present. It’s surreal, being here again, but this time with the weight of everything he’s learned, everything he’s fought for.
You tug gently on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” You ask, your voice soft and curious.
Logan smiles down at you, squeezing your hand. “Just how different things are now,” he admits. “But in a good way. I’ve got a second shot at this, and I’m not going to waste it.”
You nod, your eyes shining with the same determination he feels. “And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”
Logan feels a swell of emotion, gratitude, and love that he can’t quite put into words. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The two of you continue walking, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you focus on each other. The day ahead is full of unknowns — testing, strategy meetings, the inevitable pressure of proving himself — but with you by his side, Logan feels ready for anything.
As you make your way to the Andretti garage, the team members greet Logan with nods and smiles, and he can see the mix of curiosity and expectation in their eyes. They’re all in this together, building something new, something that has the potential to be great. And Logan is determined to be the driver they need, the one who can lead them to success.
You squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “You’re going to do amazing, Logan. I can feel it.”
He smiles, the confidence in your voice bolstering his own. “Thanks. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”
“Always,” you reply, your gaze unwavering.
As the day progresses, Logan finds himself falling into the rhythm of the paddock. The familiar sounds of engines roaring to life, the chatter of engineers discussing data, the focused intensity that permeates every corner — it’s like he never left. But this time, there’s a new layer to it all, a sense of belonging that he didn’t fully grasp the first time around.
He exchanges nods and brief conversations with other drivers as they pass by, some offering congratulations, others sizing him up as the new competition. It’s all part of the game, the unspoken dance of respect and rivalry that defines the sport. But through it all, Logan keeps you close, your presence grounding him in the midst of the chaos.
As the day draws to a close, Logan finds himself back in the garage, the car stripped down and the team poring over the data from the day’s sessions. He’s tired, the kind of exhaustion that comes from both physical exertion and mental focus, but it’s the good kind of tired — the kind that tells him he’s exactly where he needs to be.
You’re standing nearby, chatting with one of the engineers, your laughter mingling with the sounds of the garage. Logan watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. You’ve always had a way of fitting in, of making everyone around you feel at ease, and he’s grateful for that — for you.
As if sensing his gaze, you look over at him and smile, that familiar warmth in your eyes. You make your way over to him, and when you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you close. The noise of the garage fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this moment.
“You did great today,” you say.
Logan holds you a little tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmurs.
You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. “You’re the one out there driving, Logan. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”
He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “It means everything to me that you are,” he whispers.
For a moment, the chaos of the garage and the world outside fades, leaving just the two of you standing together, ready to face whatever comes next. Logan knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but with you by his side, he’s more than ready to take on the challenge.
***
The media room is buzzing with the usual pre-race energy, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling in the air as the drivers settle in behind the table. Logan’s seated between Oscar and Charles, the bright lights overhead casting sharp shadows across their faces. The backdrop behind them, plastered with sponsor logos and the official F1 emblem, feels almost like a stage, the press in front of them the audience waiting for their performance.
Logan shifts in his seat, glancing down at the bottled water in front of him. The press conference has been the usual mix of questions so far — how the cars are handling, expectations for the season, the general camaraderie between the drivers. But there’s an undercurrent, a sense that something more pointed is coming.
A journalist from the back finally stands, her voice clear and direct as she catches Logan’s attention. “Logan,” she begins, holding her recorder up, “there’s been some observation that every time you see James Vowles, your expression seems to … change. Almost like you’re not too thrilled to be around him. Any comment on that?”
There’s a moment of silence in the room, a collective breath held. Logan feels the gaze of every person on him, including the drivers beside him. He lets out a quiet laugh, trying to play it cool, but he can’t help the way his mind flashes back to the last time he’d faced Vowles, the man’s condescending tone, the cold dismissal that had sent him spiraling.
Oscar shifts beside him, giving him a sideways glance, probably wondering where this is going. Logan catches the edge of his own reflection in the shiny surface of the table and forces his expression into something neutral, even though the old bitterness is clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach.
“Bad vibes,” Logan says finally, his voice carrying just enough humor to keep it light, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “That’s what my girlfriend would say. He just … gives off bad vibes.”
There’s a ripple of laughter through the room, the tension breaking slightly. But the journalist isn’t done yet. “Bad vibes? Care to elaborate on that?”
Logan shrugs, trying to brush it off with a casualness he doesn’t quite feel. “You know, it’s one of those things. Sometimes you just don’t click with someone, right? It’s nothing serious.”
Charles, on his other side, leans into his mic, flashing a grin. “You’re not going to make us all paranoid about our vibes now, are you?”
The room laughs again, and Logan takes the opportunity to sip his water, hoping the moment will pass. But he can feel the weight of the past pressing against him, the memories of how it all went down before he’d found himself in this second chance. He knows better than anyone that this sport is a game of perceptions, of how you carry yourself, and he can’t afford to let the past taint his future.
Another journalist jumps in, steering the conversation toward safer waters — questions about the new car, how he’s adjusting to the Andretti team. Logan answers on autopilot, the usual lines about feeling confident, about how the team has been amazing. But in the back of his mind, he’s still thinking about that flash of disgust he couldn’t hide, the way his skin prickled when he saw Vowles earlier that day.
When the press conference finally wraps up, and the drivers are ushered out of the room, Oscar hangs back, falling into step beside Logan as they head toward the paddock. “So,” Oscar starts, keeping his voice low, “bad vibes, huh?”
Logan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know how it is,” he says, trying to keep it light, though he knows Oscar can see right through him.
Oscar just nods, not pushing any further, and Logan’s grateful for that. They walk in silence for a moment, the din of the paddock growing louder as they approach, engineers and team members bustling around them.
“Honestly, mate,” Oscar says after a beat, “if anyone’s going to bring some good vibes into F1, it’s you. I’m glad you’re here.”
Logan glances over, and there’s sincerity in Oscar’s expression that makes Logan’s chest tighten, the weight of everything he’s carried with him lightening just a bit. “Thanks, Oscar. That means a lot.”
They reach the Andretti motorhome, where you’re waiting for Logan, your eyes lighting up the moment you spot him. He feels a warmth spread through him at the sight, a reminder of what really matters.
You push off the wall you’d been leaning against, falling into step beside him. “So, how’d it go in there?”
Logan smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as they walk. “Let’s just say my reputation for honesty might have gotten a bit more solidified.”
You tilt your head up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “That bad, huh?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not bad, just … honest.”
You glance at Oscar, who’s still walking beside you, and give him a knowing look. “He always has to make things interesting, doesn’t he?”
Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “Never a dull moment with this one.”
As you make your way back into the motorhome, Logan feels the tension of the day starting to ebb away. The familiar scent of coffee and fuel, the low hum of conversations around him, and the comforting presence of you by his side — it all feels right. Despite everything, he knows this is where he belongs.
Once inside, the motorhome offers a brief respite from the chaotic energy outside. The team is prepping for final checks, and Logan knows he should be focusing on the task ahead, but there’s something nagging at him, a need to explain himself, to make sure you understand.
You catch the way his brows furrow slightly, the way his grip on your shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. “What’s up?”
He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, looking for the right words. “I just … I don’t want to come off like I’m carrying a grudge or anything. That comment about Vowles — it probably sounded harsher than I meant it.”
You step closer, your hand finding his, grounding him. “Logan, it’s okay. Everyone has people they don’t vibe with. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”
He nods, the tightness in his chest loosening as he looks into your eyes, seeing the unwavering support there. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”
You smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s a gift. Plus, you make it easy.”
Oscar clears his throat, and both of you look over to see him trying not to grin. “I’m going to leave you two to it. Just don’t forget we have a race to focus on.”
Logan laughs, shaking his head as Oscar heads out. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right out.”
When Oscar’s gone, Logan turns back to you, his expression softening. “Thanks for being here. Really.”
You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Always.”
As you both make your way out to the garage, the sounds of the team preparing for the weekend reach your ears, and Logan feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the anticipation of what’s to come. The memory of the press conference, of Vowles, fades into the background. What matters now is the race ahead, the chance to prove himself once again, and the knowledge that whatever happens, you’re right there with him.
He glances over at you as they approach the car, and you catch him staring, raising an eyebrow in question. “What?”
Logan just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”
You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile playing on your lips. “You better believe it, Sargeant. Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got.”
He nods, feeling more centered than he has all day. With a final squeeze of your hand, he steps into the garage, ready to take on whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens on the track, he’s already won in the ways that truly matter.
***
The roar of the engines reverberates through the paddock, a constant hum that thrums in Logan’s chest as he steps into the Andretti garage. It’s yet another race weekend, and the energy is electric, a mix of anticipation and nerves hanging in the air.
The team is buzzing around him, mechanics fine-tuning the car, engineers buried in data, but Logan’s focus is on the familiar figure leaning casually against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the hustle with an almost serene smile.
Logan stops in his tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise. It’s not that Mario isn’t around — he’s a constant presence in the team, always keeping an eye on things — but he usually doesn’t show up this early in the weekend, and certainly not with that look on his face.
It’s a smile Logan recognizes all too well, a mix of pride and mischief that means only one thing: Mario knows something that everyone else doesn’t, and it’s going to shake things up.
Logan weaves his way through the garage, sidestepping the organized chaos until he’s standing in front of Mario. “You look like you’re up to something,” Logan says, crossing his arms to mirror the older man’s posture. “What’s going on?”
Mario’s smile widens just a fraction, his eyes glinting with a secret. “Now, what makes you think I’m up to anything, kid?”
Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Because I know that look. You’ve got news.”
Mario doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pushes off the wall and motions for Logan to follow him to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team. Logan follows, his curiosity piqued. Whatever Mario’s about to tell him, it’s big.
When they’re sufficiently out of earshot, Mario leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You remember how I told you a while back that we were working on something big for the team?”
Logan nods, his interest fully captured. “Yeah. What’s up?”
Mario’s smile turns almost wicked. “Well, it seems that James Vowles and Williams think they’re going to secure Adrian Newey for next season.”
Logan’s eyes widen slightly. Newey is a legend in the sport, the kind of designer who can turn a good team into a championship-winning one. If Williams were to get him, it would be a game-changer. “Wait, you said they think they’re going to get him?”
“Exactly.” Mario’s grin is practically gleeful now. “What they don’t know is that Adrian’s already in talks with us. In fact, we’re just about ready to sign the deal.”
Logan lets out a low whistle, the magnitude of the news sinking in. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. By this time next week, Adrian Newey will be working for Andretti.”
Logan can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. This is huge, a move that will send shockwaves through the paddock. With Newey on board, Andretti’s chances of becoming a front-runner in F1 just skyrocketed. “I can’t believe it,” Logan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s going to change everything.”
Mario nods, satisfaction evident in his expression. “It’s a big deal, no doubt about it. But we’ve still got work to do. We can’t get complacent, not with what’s at stake. But this … this is a big step in the right direction.”
Logan’s mind is already racing ahead, thinking about what this means for the team, for his own career. The idea of driving a car designed by Newey is almost surreal. “When are you going to announce it?”
“Not until everything’s signed and sealed,” Mario replies. “But once it’s done, we’ll make sure the whole world knows. And Williams … well, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”
Logan laughs, the sound coming out more exhilarated than he intended. The idea of one-upping Vowles, especially after everything that’s happened between them, is deeply satisfying. “I can’t wait to see the look on Vowles’ face when he finds out.”
Mario pats Logan on the shoulder, the gesture filled with a camaraderie that Logan has come to cherish. “Neither can I, kid. Neither can I.”
As they walk back towards the main part of the garage, Logan’s mind is still reeling from the news. He’s been focused on the present, on making sure he performs at his best every time he’s out on the track, but this … this opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. With Newey on board, there’s no telling what they can achieve.
When you spot him from across the garage, the look on his face must give away that something’s up because you immediately make your way over, your expression curious. “What’s going on?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.
Logan glances around, making sure no one is within earshot, and then leans in, his voice low. “Mario just dropped a bombshell. Andretti’s about to sign Adrian Newey.”
Your eyes widen in shock, and Logan watches as a grin spreads across your face, mirroring his own excitement. “No way. That’s … huge!”
“I know,” Logan says, still barely able to believe it himself. “This changes everything.”
You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, your voice filled with pride. “You’re going to be driving a car designed by Newey. Do you realize how amazing that is?”
Logan nods, the reality of it finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. It’s … I can’t even put it into words.”
You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t have to. I can see it on your face.”
For a moment, Logan just stands there, soaking it all in. The garage is still bustling around them, the team oblivious to the monumental news that’s just been dropped in their laps. But Logan knows that soon enough, everything is going to change. This is the kind of move that can define a career, that can take a team from being contenders to being champions.
But more than that, it’s a chance for redemption. A chance to prove to everyone — including himself — that he belongs here, that he’s capable of more than anyone ever gave him credit for. The past is behind him now, and with you by his side, and Newey in the garage, the future looks brighter than ever.
Logan glances over at you, seeing the pride and excitement in your eyes, and feels a surge of gratitude. For the second chance he’s been given, for the team that believes in him, and for you, the person who’s been there through it all.
“We’re going to do something amazing, you know that?” Logan says, his voice filled with conviction.
You nod, your smile soft but full of certainty. “I know. And I can’t wait to see it.”
Neither can Logan.
***
Logan’s heart is still pounding from the rush of the race as he stands on the podium, feeling the weight of the Miami sun on his shoulders. The crowd roars below him, a sea of red, white, and blue as far as the eye can see, their energy pulsing through his veins. He can hardly believe it. A podium at his home race, in front of a crowd that feels like family, is something he’d dreamed about since he was a kid.
He turns, looking out over the crowd, his eyes scanning for you. You’re there, as you always are, standing with the Andretti team, your smile brighter than the sun. The mechanics are cheering, patting each other on the back, but Logan only has eyes for you. It’s like everything else falls away — the noise, the cameras, the pressure of the season — all of it fades into the background. All that matters is the way you’re looking at him, like he’s your entire world.
He takes a deep breath, the realization of what he’s about to do washing over him. His hands shake, just slightly, as he reaches up and touches the chain around his neck, feeling the weight of the ring that’s been hidden there for weeks, waiting for this moment.
Without another thought, he drops to one knee, right there on the podium. The world seems to stop as he looks up at you, the crowd going silent in his mind. He hears the sharp intake of breath from the Andretti crew, sees the shock on your face as you register what’s happening.
“Hey,” he says, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I … I don’t know if I can put into words what you mean to me. You’ve been with me through everything — the wins, the losses, the crazy twists and turns. And I can’t imagine going through any of it without you by my side.” He pauses, the weight of the moment sinking in. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is … will you marry me?”
Your eyes widen, and for a second, you’re frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. Then, as if breaking free from a spell, you laugh, a sound that’s pure joy, and nod vigorously. The next thing Logan knows, you’re being lifted onto the podium by the mechanics, tears of happiness streaming down your face as you launch yourself into his arms.
“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I will!”
The crowd erupts into cheers, the noise deafening as Logan slides the ring onto your finger. He pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes like victory, love, and everything good in the world. The mechanics are going wild, chanting your names, and someone — Logan thinks it might be Mario — pops open a bottle of champagne, spraying it over everyone.
It’s chaotic, it’s perfect, and it’s a moment that Logan knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life. As he holds you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realizes that this — right here, with you in his arms, and his home crowd cheering around him — is the true victory. The rest is just a bonus.
He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You know,” he says, his voice low so only you can hear, “I always knew I was lucky. But this … this is something else entirely.”
You smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart skip a beat, and lean in to kiss him again. “We’re both lucky, Logan,” you whisper against his lips. “And this is just the beginning.”
***
The paddock is buzzing with activity, the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics creating a familiar symphony that Logan finds oddly comforting. It’s the start of another race weekend, but this one feels different. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation that has nothing to do with the cars or the track.
Logan slips away from the Andretti garage, his eyes scanning the bustling paddock as he makes his way toward the Williams garage. He’s done his best to stay clear of them ever since re-entering Formula 1, but today is different. Today, he has a reason to be there — a reason that brings a small, almost mischievous smile to his lips.
The Williams garage is a flurry of motion, mechanics and engineers huddled over laptops, surrounded by toolboxes and tires. The sight brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over Logan, but he quickly pushes it aside. He isn’t here for a trip down memory lane.
Spotting Alex Albon near the back, Logan weaves through the chaos, his steps light and easy despite the tension he can feel crawling up his spine. Alex is engrossed in a conversation with his race engineer, but when Logan steps up, he looks up in surprise.
“Logan!” Alex greets, his face splitting into a wide grin. “What are you doing here? Slumming it with the backmarkers?”
“Something like that,” Logan replies, his tone light as he pulls a small, cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Alex, who takes it with a curious tilt of his head. “Figured I should deliver this in person.”
Alex flips the envelope over, his eyes widening slightly as he reads the names printed in elegant script on the front — his and Lily’s. He breaks into a grin, already understanding what it is before he even opens it.
“No way,” Alex says, pulling out the invitation and quickly scanning the details. “You’re really doing it, huh? Getting hitched?”
Logan chuckles, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. “Yeah, we are. And we’d love for you and Lily to be there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex replies, his grin softening into something more sincere. “Congrats, man. You two are great together.”
Logan nods, grateful for the genuine well-wishes. He’s about to say something else when a flicker of movement catches his eye. Glancing up, he sees James Vowles standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he watches the exchange between Logan and Alex.
For a brief moment, the past rushes back — the frustration, the disappointment, the sense of being discarded like a broken part. Logan feels a familiar pang of bitterness, but he quickly tamps it down. He isn’t that person anymore. He’s moved on, and he’s got better things — better people — in his life now.
Still, he can’t help himself.
He meets James’ gaze head-on, his smile shifting into something a bit more pointed, more deliberate. “Oh, James?” He says, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the noise of the garage. “Seems like your invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail. Real shame.”
James’ eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. The tension between them is almost tangible, thickening the air around them. Logan holds his gaze for a moment longer, then shrugs exaggeratingly before turning his attention back to Alex.
“Anyway, hope to see you there,” Logan says, clapping Alex on the shoulder before stepping back. “Tell Lily we’re looking forward to it.”
“Will do,” Alex replies, still smiling but with a touch of unease as he glances between Logan and James.
Logan doesn’t linger. He turns on his heel and strides back through the garage, the small, satisfied grin still tugging at his lips. He can feel James’ eyes boring into his back, but he doesn’t care. Let him stew, Logan thinks. He’s got more important things on his mind.
As he exits the garage and steps back into the sun-drenched paddock, Logan takes a deep breath, feeling lighter, freer. The thought of the wedding, of you waiting for him back in the Andretti garage, fills him with a sense of contentment that he never thought he’d find in the world of Formula 1.
He spots you before you see him, standing with Mario and a few other Andretti team members, animatedly talking about something. Your laughter rings out over the noise of the paddock, and Logan feels his heart swell with affection.
It’s funny how things work out, he thinks. How life has a way of surprising you, of turning things around when you least expect it. He’s come a long way from that lost, angry kid who thought he’d never get a second chance. And now, here he is, standing on the cusp of a future that’s brighter than anything he could have imagined.
He picks up his pace, eager to get back to you, to tell you about the exchange with Alex and the little jab he couldn’t resist throwing at James. But as he draws closer, you turn and catch sight of him, your face lighting up in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.
“Hey, you,” you call out, stepping away from the group to meet him halfway. “Did you get it done?”
Logan nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I did. Alex and Lily are in.”
“And Vowles?” You ask, a knowing glint in your eyes.
Logan chuckles, slipping an arm around your waist as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Let’s just say … he didn’t make the cut.”
You laugh, the sound pure and full of joy, and it’s the best thing Logan’s heard all day. “Good. You don’t need that kind of negativity at our wedding.”
“No, I don’t,” Logan agrees, feeling a rush of relief that you’re by his side, making even the most awkward encounters bearable. “And anyway, we’ve got more than enough people who actually care about us.”
You nod, your expression softening as you look up at him. “Yeah, we do. And I can’t wait to celebrate with them — with you.”
Logan feels a warmth spread through him, the same warmth he’s felt ever since the day he realized just how much you meant to him. It’s a feeling that never gets old, no matter how many podiums or victories he racks up. Because at the end of the day, it’s moments like this — simple, shared moments with you — that matter the most.
As the two of you head back toward the Andretti garage, Logan can’t help but think about how far he’s come. From the chaos of that first season in Formula 1, the heartbreak of being dropped, to the wild success of his time in IndyCar, and now, back in the sport he loves, with you by his side.
He knows there will be more challenges ahead — there always are in this world. But for now, he’s content to focus on the here and now, on the love he’s found and the life he’s building with you.
And as you walk together through the paddock, the sun casting long shadows on the ground, Logan can’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Not because of the cars, or the fame, or even the victories, but because of you — because you’re the one thing in his life that makes all the twists and turns worth it.
And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.
***
The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wall of sound that crashes against Logan as he stands on top of the podium. His hands grip the trophy tightly, the cold metal grounding him as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s done it. Logan Sargeant, the kid from Florida who almost lost everything, is now the World Drivers’ Champion.
The first American to do so since Mario Andretti himself.
He’s fought hard for this moment, clawed his way back from the brink of obscurity, and now here he is, at the pinnacle of motorsport. The champagne sprays around him, but all Logan can focus on is the sight of you, beaming up at him from the edge of the podium. You’re standing beside Mario, who’s wearing a grin as wide as Logan’s ever seen. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands clasped together, eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and joy.
He barely registers the other drivers beside him, the interviews, or the flashes of cameras. Everything narrows to you and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. You’ve been there through it all, from the moment he took that leap of faith into IndyCar, to the sleepless nights before his first season back in Formula 1. Every high and every low has led to this, and you’ve never wavered.
Logan can’t help the way his gaze shifts slightly to the left, where James Vowles stands at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a tightness to his expression, a bitterness that Logan recognizes all too well.
But as much as he’d love to revel in that small victory, he finds that he doesn’t care. Not really. The vindication is sweet, sure, but it pales in comparison to the sight of you and the emotions radiating from you like the warmest of suns.
You notice him looking at you, and you blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it, holding it to his chest. There’s no place he’d rather be than right here, right now, with you by his side.
The ceremony starts to wrap up, and as the photographers move in closer for shots, Logan can see Mario nudging you forward. You’re waving your hands at your grandfather, as if to say no, you’re fine where you are, but Mario’s having none of it. The mechanics and team members part to let you through, and Logan watches with an ever-growing smile as you finally make your way up onto the podium.
When you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms without hesitation, lifting you off your feet as the crowd goes wild. He spins you around, feeling the way you cling to him, your laughter ringing out in his ear.
“You did it,” you say when he finally sets you down, your voice thick with emotion.
“No,” Logan corrects, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We did it.”
You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your eyes glisten. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you love me for it,” Logan teases, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.
“Yeah,” you whisper, “I really do.”
The moment is interrupted by Mario clearing his throat, and Logan turns to see him holding a bottle of champagne, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Now, are we celebrating or what?”
Logan laughs, grabbing the bottle and popping the cork, spraying the contents over you and Mario, who both shout in surprise. The rest of the team quickly follows suit, and soon, the podium is a chaotic mess of laughter, champagne, and pure, unfiltered joy.
As the celebrations continue around him, Logan takes a step back, watching the scene unfold. His heart swells with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before. He’s always been driven, always had his eyes set on the next goal, the next race, the next win. But standing here, with you by his side, he realizes that he’s found something even more important than all of that.
He’s found a home.
A family.
And he’s never letting go.
The night carries on in a blur of congratulatory hugs, media obligations, and team celebrations. But as the crowd starts to thin and the energy begins to mellow, Logan finds himself sitting on the edge of the podium, his legs dangling off the side. The cool night air brushes against his skin, the sounds of the city in the distance providing a soft backdrop to the dwindling celebrations.
You find him there, sitting in silence, and without a word, you join him. You lean into his side, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.
“It’s still sinking in,” Logan admits after a while. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.”
You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth. “You’ve earned it, Logan. Every single bit of it. Don’t ever doubt that.”
He nods, resting his chin on top of your head. “It just feels … surreal. Like I’m living in a dream.”
“Well, if this is a dream,” you say, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “then it’s one I never want to wake up from.”
Logan chuckles softly, his heart swelling with affection. “You and me both.”
The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, watching as the final remnants of the celebration begin to fade. The stadium lights dim, and the night sky takes over, a blanket of stars twinkling above you. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and Logan can’t help but feel grateful for this quiet moment with you.
“I used to think winning was everything,” Logan says after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. “That nothing else mattered as long as I crossed the finish line first.”
“And now?” You ask, your tone gentle, inviting him to continue.
“Now I know that it’s not just about the win,” Logan replies, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s about the journey. The people who stand by you, who lift you up when you’re down, who make the victories sweeter and the losses bearable. It’s about finding something worth fighting for, and never letting go of it.”
You smile, your fingers intertwining with his. “Sounds like you’ve learned a lot.”
Logan nods, turning his head to look at you. “I have. And it’s all because of you.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
“Not at all,” Logan says, his voice firm. “You’ve been my rock, my anchor. I wouldn’t be here without you.”
You look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Logan …”
“I mean it,” he says, his voice gentle yet unwavering. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You don’t respond with words; instead, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss filled with promises, with unspoken words, and with a love that has grown stronger with every challenge, every victory, every moment shared.
When you finally pull away, Logan rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his heart full. “I love you,” he whispers, the words carrying the weight of all he feels.
“I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as soft, just as full of emotion.
The world fades away as the two of you sit there, wrapped up in each other. Logan knows that there will be more challenges ahead, more races to win, more obstacles to overcome. But as long as he has you by his side, he knows that he can face anything.
Because, in the end, it’s not just about the racing. It’s about the people who make it all worthwhile.
And for Logan Sargeant, that person is you.
As the night deepens and the city quiets, Logan realizes that this is just the beginning. The beginning of a new chapter, a new journey, with you right beside him. And whatever the future holds, he knows one thing for certain:
He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
And with you, he’s already won.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#logan sargeant#ls2#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant fic#logan sargeant fluff#logan sargeant fanfiction#logan sargeant blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#logan sargeant x y/n#williams racing#williams#logan sargeant one shot#logan sargeant drabble
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
(yandere! doctor x gn! patient) (cw: nsfw, yandere stuff, drugging, bribery, dubcon?)
your doctor is a little weird, you think.
he's a nice guy, yeah. does his work well, always smiling and constantly reassuring you that nothing's wrong with you. sending you off with a nice pat on the back as he emails you your prescription yet again.
but he's nowhere near professional.
his hands linger on your body far longer than what would be considered appropriate. eyes dark and unreadable as you tell him about your lovely significant other that's waiting for you outside of his office. how he'd try and talk bout his own life in an attempt to get you to stay in his office more...
if anything, he acts more like a possessive boyfriend than your doctor.
though you suppose he's just a little eccentric like that. he's a reputable doctor. everyone loves him, and so do you! he's treated you numerous times and his checkups are always so thorough. surely you can just let his... odd behaviour slide.
today you're coming in for a body checkup. lately you've been feeling dizzy and warm despite it being the middle of winter. you wonder if it's because you've gotten ill or someone's poisioning you. after all, there's been some weird holes in your arm whenever you wake up lately.
your excellent doctor has scheduled you in at 4.30 in the afternoon. he was busy earlier today, he says. you understand, he's a busy doctor. your spouse hasn't ended their shift yet so you came in alone. they haven't been answering your texts since they left home earlier today. you can only hope that they've been busy, you'll ask them when they come home.
entering his office, you are met with his polite smile and his melodious voice.
"please sit."
you obey, sitting down in the seat in front of him as you fiddle with your fingers. your doctor looks rather... distracted today. his usually tidy hair is a mess, his glasses wet as though they had just been cleaned.
"it seems that you are feeling warm and under the weather. do you have any other symptoms, my dear?"
"yes... i've been feeling rather..."
you pause, not knowing how to say it.
"aroused?"
you nod. your doctor seems to know you so well.
he hums, going back to his screen before putting on a pair of medical gloves and gesturing for you to lay down on the bed nearby. you oblige. hopefully he'll figure out what's going on with your body.
he starts off normally, prodding and pressing against certain areas of your body. you answer accordingly when he asks you whether they hurt, whether you feel weird or not. it's like any other medical examination.
"so how's your lover been?"
small talk. you realize he's always been a big fan of small talk. asking about your life, humming and smiling as he replies with answers about his own life too. sometimes he says something personal about your life, like how you go shopping on saturdays with your lover or how you sleep with the lights off. you wonder how he knows, is he stalking you? but you shake your head at the thought. you must've told him and forgot.
"they've been... fine. haven't texted me back yet unfortunately."
"mn, i see."
silence washes over the two of you as he continues prodding and touching you. his touches linger, soft and almost as though he was yearning to touch you even more. his tone of voice was nonchalant, like he didn't care.
you feel slightly uncomfortable.
"um..."
"hm?"
"i-i... i guess i'm worried about them. ever since they went out to work in the morning they haven't replied..."
"i am aware."
you remain quiet after that, pursing your lips as you ignore the way his touches have you growing progressively more turned on. you figure it must be a side effect of your condition.
"my dear, can you tell me what you feel what i touch you here?"
"huh? w- h-hey..."
you let out a soft moan as his gloved hands caress your clothed thighs. calm down, he says. it's just a part of the examination. you shudder slightly, squeezing your eyes shut. you feel the warmth in you grow as he continues to gently caress your thighs.
he's right, it's just a medical examination. he wouldn't touch you like that. plus, you have a significant other already. you shouldn't be feeling like this because of his touches. it's wrong.
you exhale shakily, fluttering your eyes open as you stare at him.
"i-it feels nice..? it makes the warmth worse, doc."
"i see... what about over here?"
you let out a gasp, eyes widening so wide you were sure they'd pop out of your skull. where... were his hands touching? surely you're dreaming?
but you weren't. when you looked down, you could clearly see his hands on your nether regions, gently groping and caressing the area.
"w-what are you-"
"i am merely testing to see which parts of your body react to my touch. please do not worry, my dear. this is all medical procedure."
"but it's my-"
"shh... i know. does it feel good? what do you feel?"
you shiver under his touch, whimpering softly as you try sitting up. were you overthinking it? he's just your doctor. this is part of the examination, it's fine.
yet you feel as though his touches have a deeper and more sinister meaning behind them.
"please don't-"
"why not? i've seen your significant other touch you like this multiple times. you've always reacted wonderfully under their touch."
"h-huh?"
your doctor pauses, eyes widening slightly before he lets out a chuckle. his hands continue palming and caressing your privates, almost as though he was... toying with you. with every touch you feel yourself getting more and more worked up, cheeks flushing even more.
"oh dear, i haven't told you have i? i've been keeping a close eye on you... i thought you'd have figured it out by now. your lover certainly has."
you squeeze your eyes shut as his touch, your mind growing fuzzy. what.. did he say? you can't quite understand... all you can feel is how bothered you're getting and how you want him to touch you even more.
"i am pleasantly surprised with how well you are reacting to my touch. i never expected you to react so positively to the drug."
"d-drug? ah... no... don't grope me like that..."
he continues palming at your clothed privates, a calm smile on his face. you can faintly make out the way his cheeks were turning red and the hardening of his pants.
"right, i did tell them not to tell you... my dear, your significant other has left you."
"no... what are you... talking about doc? hah... how would you know anyway..?"
"oh, because i told them to. i gave them some money a few months back and they've been working for me up until... today."
if you were a little more sober, you would've pushed him away and ran for your phone. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had been injected with last night has reduced you into a needy thing desperate for his touch.
"what did you do-"
"well my dear, didn't you notice the injection marks in your arm? your significant other had been administering you with tiny dosages of this particular drug i've given them. it's supposed to make you feel good."
"g-good..?"
you hear your doctor chuckle, his hands moving away from your sensitive parts. only to quickly undo the buckle of your pants and slip his hand down on your newly exposed skin.
your breath hitches, hips instictively bucking against his hand as you let out a low whine. you can't think anymore. your brain is so muddled with feeling good that you aren't even worried or disgusted by what he's saying. all you want is him, him, him. he makes you feel good.
"yes my love, good. aren't you feeling good right now?"
"mn mhm!"
you nod your head eagerly as his hands gently toy with your sex, rubbing and fondling you gently. he continues smiling down at you, pleasuring you with his fingers before pulling away. you whimper, face hot and red as you desperately try and pull him back. why would he do that? he was just making you feel so good...
"haha, you want me to continue touching you?"
you nod again. your doctor grins widely at your words, taking off his gloves before you hear the clink of his belt hit the floor.
"well, i suppose i'll get on with my second part of the medical examination now then."
#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere concepts#yandere doctor#yandere doctor x reader#gn reader#suiana rambling#suiana brainrotting
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
That was lovely 😍 Can you do eye contact in synastry pleasse
Eye Contact In Synastry
—Mars-moon asp, the moon person gives doe eyes, sweet and so whimsical, meeting the flaming passion and steam of the mars person. The mars penetrates the moon person to their core, and finds themselves melting like ice on a hot summer day. A cool chill blows their skin and for a moment their taken aback. The moon person yearns to crawl out their shell and into the mars persons arms.
—Venus-mars ultimate fuck me eyes. Lip bites and and leaning back as if inviting the mars person to pursue and the mars person eats it up. Eyes you like they found their prey. Ready to hunt and capture you in their arms, eyes boring into your playful ones.
—Moon-sun, the moon person hides their gaze away from the sun, retreating to their shadows. Scurrying off like the house pet they are, and the sun strides and shines their eyes onto the moon. Seeing them in their raw, vulnerable state. Exposing the moon. And the moon person gazes yearningly into the sun persons eyes, daring to ask the question: do you love me for who I am?
—Venus—sun, the venus persons eyes joyfully light up like pools of honey. Always expecting with eyes tracing the room, looking for the sun person. And somehow the sun person does the same until their eyes meet. Lines form underneath and wrinkles, unable to stop their grins.
—Neptune—Venus, the Neptune person create an escapade for the venus person. Alluring them and beckoning ever so slightly, if the Venus person blinked they’d miss it. Eyes wide and round, meek and transparent. And the Venus meets them with warmth, protection and familiarity, searching their eyes, as words unspoken pass between.
—Sun—neptune, the sun person looks for the neptune person in more ways than one. Looking to hold the neptune person in a comforting reassuring stare. You can do this. A subtle nod to the neptune person as their warm eyes trace over their figure, wrapping them in warmth like a blanket. Ensuring they’re tucked in and nothing is left behind. The neptune caresses the sun person and extends their mellow glances, calming them.
—Mercury-venus, the shiny and ever so bright mercurials eyes light up. Like a kid on Christmas day just to see the lovely, enthralling venus. How their eyes sparkle with enthusiasm and electricity to share their day with the venus person. And the venus surrounds them with loving, caring eyes, like a tender, invisible touch, only the eyes create distance for what hands would’ve done.
—Pluto-venus animalistic, raw in its entirety. Undressing each other in the room filled with others yet no one can compete. Eyes scanning the room for the familiar doe eyes of the Venus person, and deepening in desire. Persistently gazing until the Venus catches theirs and begins to play this game. Watching their every move and studying their mannerisms. Ingraining their image like a painting. The venus person knows there’s something so subconsciously disturbing and unnerving to the Pluto person. Your eye contact makes me shiver.
—Venus-venus and gazing at each other like it’s been decades since you two saw each other. Lovingly, caressing with eyes over forms with words unsaid. A slight furrow to the brows and a longing to be held, eyeing them, drinking them in as if this were the last moment you’d see them.
—Mercury-moon, instantly the mercury settles and their lively, frenzied eyes lower. Half lidded in a haze and grounded by the moon persons languid gaze. Calm. Soft. Patient. Alone their mind has so many tabs open, but with the moon person only one exists: this moment. Their eyes soften and a moment of reprieve crosses them.
—Mars-Neptune creating a violent clash, turbulent and unpredictable. Mars eyes are firm, set and locked onto the neptune whose eyes do nothing to help their impending curiosity. The neptunes eyes are boundless, held together by string and thread. The more the mars person glares to see them clearly, the image of their eyes blur more. Mars can never tell whats going on behind the neptunians siren eyes, always half lidded in a daze, far off in a fantasy.
—Sun-mars and your eyebrows raising, a pause and then theirs, and then a grin, and wrinkles line under the eyes as laughter spills out. Like two old friends seeing each other and catching up, always peering up from whatever they do, catching and affirming. Eyes never stay long on objects that don’t matter, like their mug. Keep talking to me.
—Pluto-mars feeling like each other’s gaze is like a hot poker tracing flesh. Warmth travels up the slender of your back, and eyes widen slightly to see the pluto person leaning forward to gaze boldly in your eyes. Eyes searching yours. Feeling the same escalating tension. They always do this. The leaning in thing. And yet the mars person meets back with resistance of their own, their gaze tracing the pluto persons flesh like a pointed knife, sharp and calculating.
—Mars-Venus and bringing venus person to the ninth circle of hell over and over again, eyes daring and blazing with an unbridled passion for life. The venus persons’ eyes widen like a gazelle, at the unpredictable nature of the mars person.
—Neptune-venus and being unable to sleep. The venus person cannot forget the neptunians eyes. It’s stained in their mind and years later they wake up, seeing their gaze behind their eyelids like the distant memory the neptunian was.
#this was so cute#asks#astrology community#devi post#astrology#tarotcommunity#divination#tarot deck#tarot#witchcraft#tarot reading#pick a pile#pick a card romance#pick a picture#pick a card#pick one#astro posts#astrology notes#astro notes#astro#astro observations#esoteric astrology
631 notes
·
View notes
Text
WHAT MAKES YOU THE MAIN CHARACTER IN THE CROWD?
꒰⠀from left to right ; intuitively choose the pile your mind, heart and soul desire for. if you are having trouble choosing the right pile for you, here’s some tips you can do ; (1) take a deep breath (2) close your eyes (3) ask guidance from your guides (4) finally open your eyes and you can choose the right pile for you by the guidance you ask from your guides. if you are still having trouble by choosing the right pile for you let me know because i am willing to help and guide you.
send your donations here
PILE ONE
AoW, Temperance, 6oW.
you are the protagonist when you inspire people. when you become someone who lives actively and someone who became an inspiration to people with it's loving nature and unique ideas. you are the type of person who works for what you want instead of just waiting around the corner. you are the main character if you speak with some body movements or in short when you use have a body languages.
when you put much effort into your appearance for example to be well neat looking. you know what you are doing, you know your damn thing and you how to hype and warm yourself up. when you remain silent and calm when there's an argument, downfall or chaotic moment you are experiencing perhaps it can also determine as a reading for as you are someone who is quite influence people. well, maybe you have a sigma aura within you that's why.
when you talk, or if you put everything into how you look or look to people, and you can also know how to take care of yourself or when to warm up for you. others. if you stay calm even in such chaotic moments of life and if you are patient about something you want to achieve. It can also mean that you influence people's lives quietly or speak too quietly. You make yourself. you seem to enlighten them in a simple but calm way. and you can also be the kind of person who reminds someone not to judge others when they determine their future, like reminding them that just because a certain person has less education doesn't mean they can't achieve high goals in life . you can also be someone who is balanced in his life, someone who treats people with balance, like not rich or poor, but equally. it was also your mindset that makes you the main character. you are a person who achieves a lot in certain areas or wherever; you are talented and people may envy you for it. you are a protagonist when you show how you can communicate well or how you respond to people and their negative opinions about you like you simply know how to burn them without actually hurting them.
PILE TWO
6oC rx, 9oC, Judgement.
shocks, you got an alluring aura that may remain a lifetime for people. you are powerful, anyone you pass by turns their heads. you are hard to let go, it's not simple for people for you to forget even though you interact with them for only once. you were also matured and grew up that fast in such a very young age due to your past mostly childhood issues perhaps you are learning and openly willing to resolve this issues. you also know how to pleasure yourself in this world, you know what you deserve like you know how to spoil yourself in small and huge things.
you are aware in your dreams and are about to attain them, you are content from what you already have and you know to yourself that you are born lucky despite these past issues ruining you inside. people perceive you as someone who often changes their physical appearance, someone who puts a lot of effort in their outlook. you also know how to defend yourself in the crowd, you fear no one.
PILE THREE
High Priestess, Death, KoW.
you got a psychic ability and you were aware about that. most people may find you as mysterious and well kept, you are mindful about people who can do bad and harm things to you. you are the protagonist as well because due to your high energy, you are easily able to get comfortable with new people and places perhaps maybe sometimes it can take your energy but overall you enjoy new beginnings. you also love to learn and learn and learn a lot, learning new is a part of your everyday life and you may call them new experiences or lessons that you can use on your near future.
i also see here that many people may have crushes or you may be secret admirers, after all, many people perceive you as an attractive and charming individual. you are also focused and serious when we talk about studies and work, you don't want to disappoint yourself because you know you are the best. people view as light and dark, some may have good opinions about while others don't.
you are a knowledgeable person but you prefer to share this knowledge with those people who are worthy of receiving for you. you are quite picky about that because you know that not all this information can be shared to anyone that easily. you are an observant individual, you rather sit back and observe what is happening in your surroundings rather than be a center of attention but as i said you enjoy meeting new people and visiting new places. i describe you as someone who is naturally introvert but selectively extrovert as a protagonist here.
#pick a card#tarot#pick a pile#free tarot reading#tarotcommunity#tarot online#pick a card reading#tarotblr#divination#tarot witch#witch#witchblr
724 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello, idk if you're open but if you dooo, can you do HC of lads seeing MC being more...brutal? since we all know our mc is badass but kind right, but what if sometimes she slipped and her darkness come forth more than she usually let on? hahahah idk it just after all mc been through she's more than validated to be villain u kno. so yea! thankchuu
Just a heads up, I am ALWAYS open, it's just a matter of when I get to the request, so as long as you're patient, anyone can send in anything anytime!! :D And ooh, this is an interesting one, but something I've definitely thought about haha. MC's been through a lot, and I feel a lot of readers also have too, and there comes a point when you gotta say screw it, I'm mad now. (I'll also say I'm still really grumpy about how little we get regarding MC's grieving during certain points of the story, and the lack of how the Li's all react as well to the news, no matter how little they know about the situation :/) Thank you for the request <3 hope you enjoy!
Love and Deepspace Li's reaction to seeing you finally snap
Rafayel -
He's somehow... not surprised.
But can you blame him?
The amount of rage Rafayel carries in his heart is constantly, constantly threatening to bubble up to the surface and boil over the edges of his last remaining ounces of humanity. The amount of cruelty on the basis of pure rage that he could commit is not a volume that he is proud to carry, but something he carries heavily though.
So seeing you finally snap is... almost cathartic.
He knows what he's been through, hell- he knows a great deal of what you've been through. Even in the distant past. It would be a wonder if you weren't angry. If you weren't seeing things. If you hadn't 't been simmering up to your breaking point from microaggressions and trauma stacking up and up until-
Here you were.
And for him, it feels like you're doing something of your own volition- feeling something that was entirely your own. Devoid of any outside influence or need to be the kindest person in the room. To keep your head down, path straight and narrow.
And despite the sheer amount of power he possesses in comparison to you, he will admit if asked- that he was just a little bit afraid at first. Even if just for a moment.
And damn, he was proud of you.
Zayne -
Calmly, he watches you.
It's out of character, sure, given how you usually are. Even when you're rude or abrasive, it's never anywhere near... something quite like this.
But the other thing is- he has a good grasp on the human psychic, just from his medical knowledge, even though it isn't his main area of study. He knows what it takes to truly make someone snap, both from personal experience and from his findings in research.
He also knows the extent of things you have been through that have been building up, cumulating into this moment before him where you have finally just broken.
Depending on the level of rage and cruelty you reach, he may stop you, or he may let you go. Either way, his actions are calm and calculated, no matter how he might disagree with, agree with, or fear your actions. He knows someone needs to remain levelheaded in this situation, and he's more than capable of taking on that role.
Gods forbid once you calm down that you feel guilty. If what you did was uncalled for or wrong, he'll discuss it with you, but if there was justifications to your actions or experiences and trauma that had led you to your moment, he'll just pull you into a hug slowly, his expression even.
He'll say it if he needs to, but his actions will hopefully tell you that nothing, nothing you do will ever change his love for you.
Xavier -
He's startled.
He himself is used to having complete control over his emotions, to the point where he can disguise them exceedingly well to maintain a calm aura. So seeing you fully snap and head down a warpath, it's... shocking.
But he's not entirely surprised.
Honestly, he would be more surprised if you had never got this angry at all, given the things you had told him under the covers in his bed, after a particularly late night in his apartment watching movies together.
You've been through a lot.
He knows that.
He knows how it hurts.
So when you finally rage, it takes him a few moments for even the thought of stopping you to enter his mind. And even when it does, he first has to have a small battle internally on whether or not letting you go off and have your cathartic moment is better, even at the cost of a little bit of destruction.
He'll stop you if it's particularly dangerous though, even if it means having to wrestle you away from whatever it is that was taking the brunt of your anger.
Otherwise, he'll just let you go.
Whenever you're done though, if you dare try and steal a glance back towards him, afraid that you may have scared him or made him scared or angry with you-
He'll just flash you a small, comforting smile.
Sylus -
Sylus spends the majority of his time in a cesspool of seething rage, backstabbing psychopaths, and fake smiles that take advantage of the weak and needy.
Anger for himself, anger towards others, anger to benefit others who can't seem to get angry themselves-
If anyone knows what fury is, it's him. Whether secondhand, personally, or just being around it for so long, he knows the emotion intimately well and every single shape or form that it could possibly take.
Still, seeing you suddenly lose it is... surprising.
He likes it.
Not in a way where he's turned on necessarily (though it is an additional feeling), but the enjoyment stems from constantly seeing you put others before yourself- watching you make yourself small so that the people around you could be big- and now finally watching you take what you deserved in his eyes.
He won't intervene unless you're doing something he knows you'll deeply regret later, instead favoring watching you until you've burnt out and finished to the end.
He's mostly quiet, he knows it's probably not something you want to talk about, like most people wouldn't want to after a particularly vicious outburst in an argument. But he can't help a few small comments.
"I'm surprised. I never thought the kitten had such big claws. You really surprised me, sweetie."
#.writey#love and deepspace#lads#lds#x reader#sylus x reader#xavier x reader#zayne x reader#rafayel x reader
512 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi :)
Could I maybe get a two-for-one for your work, Deprivation? Maybe where reader takes Spencer home with them and they do some skin to skin cuddles and he just melts and sleeps for more than a plane ride?
Or if you don’t like that idea, just any continuation of Spencer being so afraid of touch but desperately needing it? I feel that in my soul.
I love your work so much, you’re beyond fantastic!
SALVATION — SPENCER REID!
after spencer gets some rest on the plane ride home, you offer for him to stay the night with you.
spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.0k | h/c | masterlist.
part one.
event masterlist.
a/n — thank you so much ml, i forgot how much i loved writing stuff like this, spencer needs so many hugs man
Your apartment was warm, a comforting contrast to the sterile jet and the cold night outside.
Spencer seemed out of place at first, standing awkwardly by the door as you set your keys on the table. You could see the fatigue in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the case still clung to him.
“Why don’t you get comfortable?” you suggested gently, motioning toward the couch.
He hesitates, lingering in the doorway like he’s intruding, like he’s unceremoniously encroaching on your space despite the fact that you’d insisted he spend the night at your apartment, insisted that he was going to get a good night’s rest even if it meant not getting one yourself.
It makes him feel bad. Guilty. You should be doing this for him, or feeling like you have to.
“Spencer,” You sigh, “Please,”
He reluctantly relents at the hint of desperation in your tone, toeing off his shoes and sinking into the cushions of your couch. His fingers twitched nervously, his mind still racing even in the quiet.
You brewed tea in the silence, not wanting to push him into talking if he wasn’t ready but wanting to offer him something—something to show that you cared, that you wanted him to feel safe and comfortable with you.
When you came back, you set the mugs on the coffee table, then sat next to him, close, but not impeding on his personal bubble.
The air felt thick with the unsaid, but you waited patiently, letting him come to you in his own time.
After a few minutes of silence echoed only through soft sips from your drinks, Spencer finally spoke, his voice small. “I… I can’t seem to turn my brain off. It’s like, no matter how exhausted I am, I can’t stop thinking about everything. It’s just… always there.”
Your heart ached for him. You could see how much he was carrying, how much he was trying to hold together on his own.
“You don’t have to do that tonight,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to keep holding it all together.”
He looked at you, his eyes glassy with exhaustion and something deeper. Vulnerability. “I don’t know how to… stop.”
You scooted closer, your fingers gently brushing his. “Come here,” you whispered, your voice gentle but firm. “Skin-to-skin contact can help calm your nervous system. Let me hold you for a while,”
Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away.
You were really pulling his own moves against him.
And you weren’t even wrong. It would indeed chemically help calm down his nervous system through releasing oxytocin and serotonin, not to mention promoting activity of the oxytocinergic system.
So there was no excuse to not listen to you.
Slowly, cautiously, he allowed you to take his hand and guide him toward you. You both shed your outer layers—he pulled off his sweater, and you slipped out of your own long-sleeved shirt, leaving the soft barrier of your undershirts between you.
You pulled him into your embrace, wrapping your arms around him as he rested his head against your chest, your warmth surrounding him.
At first, Spencer was stiff, as if unsure how to allow himself to relax into you. But gradually, the tension in his body began to melt.
Your hands stroked soothing circles on his back, your heartbeat steady and grounding beneath his cheek. You could feel the way his breathing began to even out, slow and deep, as if the weight of the world was finally starting to lift.
“You’re safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing the top of his head. “It’s okay to rest.”
Spencer let out a shaky breath, his hands curling gently into your shirt as he allowed himself to surrender to the comfort you offered.
He pressed closer, his body seeking the warmth and safety that came with your touch, revelling in what he’d lost from you after the plane had landed back in D.C.
For the first time in what felt like forever, his mind began to quiet. The intrusive thoughts that normally plagued him began to fade, replaced by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the gentle hum of your voice as you whispered reassurances into the dark.
“I’m still so tired,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly as the weight of the admission hit him. “I know I slept on the plane but…”
“I know,” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and holding him tighter. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. Just sleep.”
And for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, Spencer allowed himself to let go. His body melted into yours, his breathing deepening as the exhaustion finally caught up to him.
Within minutes, he was asleep, completely relaxed in your arms.
You held him as he slept, your fingers still running through his hair, your heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. He deserved this—this peace, this comfort—and you would give it to him for as long as he needed.
And as Spencer slept, you could almost see the tension lift from his features, his body finally at ease. He looked peaceful, truly peaceful, in a way you hadn’t seen in far too long.
You stayed there with him, letting him rest, knowing that when he woke up, you’d still be there, ready to hold him again. Ready to remind him that he wasn’t alone.
#𝜗𝜚 book fayre。#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds angst#mgg
467 notes
·
View notes