#if you know who she is please tell me so i can give her name!!!

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[wholoveseggs]

Dark Star {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} In the present day, Cami takes matters into her own hands by going to the police, urging detectives to search for your killer. Meanwhile, Rebekah and Kol return to Mystic Falls to seek Bonnie Bennett’s help...and run into an old friend. In the past, your church has a watchful eye on your every move as fear of demons brew among the villagers, risking your exposure and ruin.

5.4k words - Warnings: so much angst, Cami trying her best, Kol and Rebekah being an iconic duo in Mystic Falls, murder investigations, pain with a sprinkle of more pain on top, hallucinations, demons and Klaus having a little treat...

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}{Part Six}

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Cami sat nervously in the waiting area of the police department, wondering why she ever thought this was a good idea. What was she going to say? That she knew a vampire that was murdered? They would want details she couldn’t give… like, where’s the body? How does she know there was a murder?

She could already hear them laughing her out of the office.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. This was the right thing to do. She had a hunch, and it was her job to follow through.

A door opened, and a tall, no-nonsense detective stepped out, scanning the room until his gaze landed on her. With a slight nod, he motioned for her to follow him, leading her to a small, windowless room.

“How can I help you, Miss O'Connell?” he asked, settling into a chair across from her.

Cami took a breath, the uncertainty bubbling up again. “I… I have a friend who went missing, and I was hoping the police could help me find her.”

“Missing?” The detective’s brow lifted, his expression shifting to mild skepticism.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. She’s been missing for several months…” Cami replied, realizing too late how wrong that sounded.

“Months?” His skepticism deepened, one eyebrow arched.

“Yes,” she repeated, trying to sound more confident.

“Miss O'Connell,” he said, softening his tone just slightly, “you’re aware that most missing persons cases aren’t solved. Many aren’t even reported until it’s too late.”

“I understand,” she replied, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

The detective sighed, studying her closely. “Do you have any evidence of foul play?”

Cami’s mind raced. “No… I don’t have evidence, but I know something is wrong. She wouldn’t just disappear.”

“Alright,” he said, pulling out a notepad. “Let’s start with her name and tell me what she looks like.”

Cami swallowed again, steadying herself as she described you: the color of your hair, the shade of your eyes, the way you always wore that silver bracelet. She felt the lump in her throat grow as she spoke, picturing you more vividly with each word.

The detective listened, his expression hardening slightly. “Did she have any enemies?”

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “She… well, she had a lot of enemies,” she admitted, immediately regretting it.

He raised an eyebrow, jotting something down. “Enemies?”

“Yes, but she was… a private person. I don’t really know who they were,” she said, guilt pricking at her as she lied.

The detective’s patience began to wear thin. “Miss O'Connell, if I’m going to help, you need to be honest. What aren’t you telling me?”

Cami hesitated, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. She glanced down, trying to find the words. “It’s a long story,” she managed, her voice small.

“We have time.”

“It’s a very long story,” she repeated, almost pleading.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I have several open murder cases on my desk. I’m not going to spend hours on a missing person unless you can give me a reason to. So if you have something to tell me, spit it out. Otherwise, we’re done here.”

“Right, sorry,” she stammered, her cheeks burning. “It’s just… my friend was married into a very powerful family of vampires, and she is one herself. And she was murdered, I know where and when, so I need your help collecting forensic evidence.”

He stared at her, his face blank. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I was,” she said softly.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “Please leave.”

“But-”

“Miss O'Connell, unless you want me to throw you in jail for wasting police time, I suggest you leave now,” he said, his tone cold.

Cami rose, shame washing over her. “I’m sorry. I was just hoping-”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his expression hardening.

She hurried out, her heart pounding, a mix of anger and humiliation clouding her mind. She had been foolish to think the police would help. As she walked down the hallway, she caught sight of a bulletin board covered in photographs and reports. Missing people. Her heart sank as she stared at the faces.

“Hey!” she called out as a young officer passed by.

“Yeah?”

“What’s this for?” she asked, nodding to the board.

“Murder victims, same motive. Possible serial killer,” he said.

A chill ran down her spine. “Can I look at the case file?”

The officer raised an eyebrow, giving her a wary look. “Sorry, ma’am, but those files are confidential.”

“Right. Thanks.” She forced a polite smile, walking quickly out of the building. Once outside, she pulled out her phone and dialed Klaus’s number.

“Cami?” Klaus answered, his tone warm.

“I’m at the police station. They’ve got a case on a possible serial killer,” she said, her words spilling out. “All the victims… Klaus, they look just like her.”

There was a long, tense pause on the line.

“Stay where you are,” he said finally, his voice low and serious. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

Relief washed over her as she hung up, the weight of fear lessened. Maybe, just maybe, they were onto something real.

“Rebekah, darling, be a dear and pass me that bottle,” Kol gestured lazily toward the expensive bourbon behind the bar.

She raised an eyebrow. “Planning on getting wasted? We’ve got work to do, Kol.”

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy,” he replied, grabbing the bottle as soon as it was in reach. He poured himself a generous amount, then one for her. “I died in this town. I’m entitled to a drink.”

Rebekah sighed but accepted the glass, taking a small sip. “Technically, we both did. Though, you managed to do it twice.”

Kol smirked, savoring his drink. “Ah, yes. I nearly forgot how much fun it was the first time.”

He turned, leaning back against the bar, surveying the Mystic Grill’s bustling crowd. Music hummed in the background, laughter and chatter filling the air along with the scent of alcohol. The place had changed, yet a strange sense of familiarity lingered.

“This place brings back memories,” Kol mused, his tone light. “There was a lovely little spot nearby where I’d... relieve myself. Quiet, private.”

Rebekah grimaced. “You’re disgusting.”

"What? Like you didn't have your spots, Rebekahhh," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I liked the view, nothing makes the bowels move quite like the morning sunrise,"

She let out a sound of disgust, and tossed back her drink, setting her glass down and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Not much has changed about this place, still a glorious shit hole," He quipped, taking another gulp of his drink.

She rolled her eyes, leaning back against the counter and scanning the crowd. Her eyes landed on a familiar face sitting in a booth, and she smirked. "You can't be serious,"

"What?" He asked, arching an eyebrow, turning to look at where she was staring. "Oh, for fucks sake,"

Stefan Salvatore was sitting in a booth, alone, sipping on his drink. He was watching them, his expression carefully neutral, his body tense.

"I'll deal with him," Kol muttered, standing up.

"Kol, behave," Rebekah warned, elbowing him.

"When have I ever not behaved?" He shot back, smirking.

"Do you want a list?" She snapped, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "We are here to convince that Bennett witch to help us, not cause trouble."

"I'm just going to say hi," he defended, holding his hands up. "If anything happens, it will be entirely his fault,"

She rolled her eyes and released his arm, giving him a pointed look.

He winked at her and strode towards Stefan, a grin spreading across his face, sliding into the seat across from him. "Well, well, if it isn't the famous Ripper of Monterey. Seems you have a new hobby of stalking people,"

Stefan smiled faintly, swirling the bourbon in his glass. "I'm just enjoying a drink at my local bar,"

Kol chuckled, shaking his head, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "How long have you been following us, hm?"

"Since you showed up," Stefan answered, taking a sip of his drink. "I thought you and your family moved on to New Orleans."

"Oh, we did," Kol grinned, tilting his head. "But, we've always had a fondness for this place. We are sentimental like that,"

"So this is just a vacation then?" Stefan asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"In a sense," Kol shrugged. "Family business, you know how it is,"

Stefan hummed, raising an eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with the death of your sister-in-law?"

"Oh, you're a busy little birdie," Kol drawled, his smile widening. "Where did you hear that?"

"It's not everyday that a Mikaelson dies," Stefan replied, his tone light. "That kind of news gets around."

"Ah, yes, the supernatural grapevine," Kol sighed, rolling his eyes. "A dreadful thing. So, have you heard anything useful?"

Stefan stared at him, his jaw clenching, Kol could tell he was afraid, even though he made great efforts to hide it. "Like I said, just rumors."

Kol laughed, shaking his head. "Don't worry, Stef. You're safe, Rebekah would have my head if I killed you."

Stefan raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that would stop you,"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," Kol scoffed, tilting his head. "Your neck is intact, isn't it?"

"Why are you really here, Kol?" Stefan asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Looking for a friend of yours, perhaps you could help me," Kol replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "We need to speak to a young Miss. Bennett."

Stefan frowned, his eyes darkening. "What do you want with her?"

"Relax, Stefan," Kol sighed, shaking his head. "We're not planning on harming her. We just need her help, that's all."

Stefan leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering to Rebekah who was walking towards them. "And if she says no?"

Kol's smile widened, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Then we'll convince her otherwise,"

Stefan tensed, his expression hardening, his hand tightening around his glass. "Is that a threat?"

Rebekah let out an annoyed sigh and leaned over the table, pinching Kol’s arm. "Stop being an ass."

"Ow," he whined, rubbing his arm. "You're supposed to be helping,"

She glared at him, then looked at Stefan. "Don't mind my brother, he was dropped on his head when he was a baby,"

"I was not," Kol protested, frowning.

She rolled her eyes and moved to sit next to Stefan, placing her hand over his, smiling sweetly. "Tell me, what is Bonnie up to these days?"

"Bonnie isn't going to help you," Stefan answered, his voice hard. "She's not exactly a fan of your family,"

"We aren't looking to be friends," Rebekah said, shaking her head. "All we need is a little help,"

"Help with what, exactly?" Stefan pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Kol and Rebekah exchanged a glance, and Rebekah gave him a nod.

"The death of my sister-in-law was a bit unexpected," Kol explained, his voice low, his smile fading. "We want to fix that, bring her back,"

Stefan let out a dark chuckle, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head. "So it's true? Elijah has gone off the deep end?"

"You are hardly one to judge, darling," Rebekah remarked, glaring at him.

"Look, I have no interest in being dragged into Mikaelson family drama," Stefan replied, his voice tight. "And neither will Bonnie,"

Rebekah let out a soft sigh, and glanced at her brother, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Brother, will you get me a drink?"

"Sure, Bex," he said, giving her a wide smile before heading up and walking to the bar.

Rebekah leaned in, her voice lowering. "I think you have misunderstood us, this isn't a request. We are asking politely for you to tell us where Bonnie is... Or I will force the answer out of you,"

"I would like to see you try," Stefan replied, his words laced with challenge.

"I'm stronger than I look," she murmured, her gaze lingering on him, her smile turning sly. "You of all people should know that."

Stefan stared at her, and she could see the tension in his shoulders, the wariness in his eyes.

Kol returned and set a glass of whiskey down in front of her, sliding back into his seat, sipping on his own drink.

"One last chance, love," Rebekah purred, taking a small sip, her gaze locked on Stefan's. "Tell us where to find Bonnie, or things will get ugly."

"You can do whatever you need to do to me. I'm not giving up my friends," Stefan said, his jaw clenching, his eyes flashing.

Rebekah let out a long sigh, and reached over, her fingers trailing along his jaw, tilting his head to the side.

"Look around Stef, all the people in this bar, they have interesting looking drinks in front of them, don't they?" She asked, her voice soft.

Stefan stiffened, his brow furrowing, his gaze sweeping over the bar. All the glasses in front of the patrons seemed to be filled with a bright blue liquid.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice strained.

"Those drinks aren't exactly... safe," Kol chimed in, his tone full of amusement. "It's absolutely horrid what antifreeze can do to a human's internal organs."

"Antifreeze?" Stefan repeated, his eyes widening, a hint of fear flashing across his face.

"Mhm, it's actually a rather effective poison," Kol added, grinning.

"To Stefan Salvatore," Rebekah said, raising her glass, her gaze locking with his.

Stefan watched in horror as all the patrons raised their glasses with her, some holding their cups to their lips, poised to drink. She had compelled the whole bar, and it was a terrifying sight.

"Wait, stop," he stammered, panic rising in his chest.

Rebekah smiled and put her glass down, everyone else doing the same. "Where is Bonnie?"

"Fine," he said, swallowing hard, his pulse racing. "I'll give you her address,"

"Good boy," she said, her smile widening, patting him on the cheek.

"You're psychotic," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Oh, darling, I'm a Mikaelson, this is just a Tuesday for us," she replied, winking at him. "Write down the address,"

Stefan glared at her, but obliged, quickly scribbling down the address on a napkin.

She snatched it from him, and tucked it into her purse, before getting to her feet. Her blonde hair swayed behind her as she turned and headed towards the exit, not looking back.

"Lovely seeing you again, Stef," Kol called out, smirking. He got up and followed her, leaving a defeated Stefan sitting alone.

13th century Europe

Evening mass was almost over, and you were growing more and more bored, wishing you were anywhere else. Your attention was drawn to the window, the full moon hanging low in the sky. It was a beautiful sight, reminding you of your night with Elijah, and the promise he had made. You smiled faintly, a faint blush coloring your cheeks.

You could feel Mother Mathilde's stern gaze fixed on you, and you tried to look serious, straightening in the pew. But the thoughts wouldn't leave your mind. You wondered if he would ask you to marry him, if he would take you away from the convent. A strange sort of longing gripped your heart, and you realized, more than anything, you wanted to be his wife. You wanted to live by his side, grow old with him, share his bed, have his children. The realization surprised you, a wave of panic rising within you, and you swallowed hard, trying to calm yourself.

As the priest finished his final prayer, you joined the others, standing and reciting the closing hymn. Your voice faltered as Mother Mathilde stood, moving to the altar, her expression unreadable. She nodded to the priest and turned to face the congregation.

"There has been some troubling news," she announced, her voice loud and clear, filling the sanctuary.

Your brow furrowed, and you listened, waiting for her to continue.

"There is reason to believe demons may be among us," she continued, her eyes sweeping over the crowd.

Murmurs erupted from the congregation, and you felt a chill run down your spine, your stomach twisting into knots.

"Two of our children were nearly attacked last night in the forest," Mother Mathilde's voice rose, silencing the crowd. "We must be vigilant and pray that God will protect us from this evil."

Your heart was pounding, and you were certain that you had heard her correctly. In the woods? Was it near the same place you had spent the night with Elijah? 

"Be wary of those who tempt you into sin," Mother Mathilde's gaze swept over the room, her eyes stopping on you. "Be mindful of those who wish to lead you astray,”

Your stomach sank, and you felt a rush of embarrassment, a sudden urge to run out of the chapel. You stared at the ground, heat rising in your cheeks, shame burning within you.

"Have any of you been tempted? Speak now so we can root out this evil," the priest called out, his eyes searching the crowd.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down, your heart racing. You knew it was a trap, and yet, you couldn't resist the urge to look at her. You raised your head, catching her gaze, and immediately regretted it. She was staring at you, her expression full of judgment. You felt like a child being scolded, your eyes falling back to the floor, unable to look at her anymore.

"For those who lay with demons are anointed by evil, and must be cleansed," she declared, her voice full of conviction. “We must prevent this sickness from spreading by all means that we possess,”

You couldn't move, frozen in place, panic rising within you. You didn't know what to do, or where to go, so you sat there, waiting, hoping she wouldn't come for you.

The priest began speaking again, and the rest of the congregation joined in, reciting a prayer. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the words, but it was useless. All you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears, the sound of your heart pounding. You were terrified, and all you could think about was running.

Suddenly, there was a commotion behind you, and the chapel door swung open. Several of the nuns rushed in, their faces pale, their eyes wide. They were carrying a limp body between them, and as they laid it on the ground, you realized with horror, that it was Sister Claire.

The other nuns gasped, and several cried out, crossing themselves. You couldn't look away, transfixed by the gruesome scene. Her throat had been torn out, and her blood was everywhere, pooling on the stone floor, staining the white robes of the nuns.

"Dear God," Mother Mathilde exclaimed, her eyes wide, her face ashen.

The priest crossed himself, his voice shaky. "It seems the demons have claimed their first victim."

Elijah was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, studying his reflection. His hair was damp and tousled, his cheeks smooth, his chin freshly shaven. His deep, dark brown eyes, full of secrets and sadness. He could see the weight of his years etched in the lines on his face, the shadows beneath his eyes that refused to fade.

He could feel the ghost of your hands wrapping around his shoulders, see your smiling reflection in the mirror as you gazed at him, your face radiant with happiness. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, allowing himself the dangerous comfort of imagining your touch. It was like being caressed by a shadow… your fingers tracing the contours of his body, exploring the planes and ridges. Your voice echoed softly, teasing and affectionate, calling his name as if you were still there.

"It’s okay to be sad, Eli," you had once told him, pressing a kiss to his neck, your fingers resting over his heartbeat. "You don’t have to carry it all alone."

He felt the sting of tears behind his eyelids and swallowed hard, forcing the memory back. He had been vulnerable enough already, and he couldn’t afford to give in further. Opening his eyes, he steadied his gaze in the mirror, his grip on the sink tightening until his knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched. He had promised to always protect you, and yet, here he was. A failure. The ache in his chest spread, crushing, unrelenting, leaving him feeling like a ship adrift, helpless in the abyss.

He avoided looking at the wedding ring on his finger, a sharp reminder of what he had lost. It felt wrong to take it off, yet the temptation to cast it aside was almost overwhelming.

Turning away from the mirror, he grabbed a towel, drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist. Returning to the bedroom, he saw you. Your phantom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"You know it's your fault, right?" you teased, tilting your head. "If you had just left me alone, none of this would have happened."

"I didn’t have a choice," he replied, his voice hoarse, tight with emotion. "I loved you. I couldn’t let you go."

"Liar," you laughed, shaking your head. "You didn’t love me. You wanted to own me, possess me."

"No, I-" he started, but the words caught in his throat.

"You turned me into a monster, corrupted my soul," you hissed, your eyes flashing, a cruel smile tugging at your lips. "You destroyed me, Elijah."

He closed his eyes, turning his face away, unable to look at this twisted version of you. "I’m sorry," he whispered.

"Pathetic," you sneered, contempt dripping from your voice.

He couldn’t bear it anymore, his heart breaking all over again. Retreating to the bathroom, he shut the door behind him, pressing his back against it as he took a shuddering breath, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"Go away," he whispered, his voice strained.

"No," your voice answered, the doorknob rattling, the door shaking as if it would break under your rage. "You promised to love me, to protect me."

"I know," he murmured, his voice thick with grief and regret. "I know."

"You lied," you spat, the doorknob rattling harder, the door creaking and straining against its hinges.

"Please," he begged, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Open the door," the voice hissed, rattling the knob with renewed violence, the door cracking under the pressure.

"Go away," he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest, every muscle tensed.

And then, abruptly, there was silence. The only sound was his own heartbeat, thudding in his ears, drowning out everything else.

He stayed still, afraid to move, unsure of what might happen if he did. His entire body felt frozen, rooted to the spot, waiting.

From downstairs, he heard the sounds of Cami, Klaus, and Marcel entering the compound, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain his composure. He couldn’t let them see hin so weak and broken. He knew he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever.

"Elijah?" Klaus’s voice echoed through the compound, laced with worry.

Clearing his throat, Elijah steadied himself and opened the door. The bedroom was empty, the ghost of you nowhere in sight. He let out a long, uneven sigh, then went down to the courtyard, where Klaus, Cami, and Marcel waited for him.

On the table were at least forty photographs, each one of a different woman. They all looked hauntingly like you.

Elijah frowned, stepping closer, his gaze sweeping over the pictures, brow furrowing as he took in each face.

"What’s this?" he asked, his voice low.

"It’s the list," Klaus answered, his tone grave.

"Of what?" Elijah asked, his confusion mounting.

"Victims," Marcel explained, watching Elijah closely. "Louisiana has a serial killer."

Elijah stiffened, his eyes darkening as he picked up one of the photos, staring at it, his stomach twisting. It was an image of a woman lying in the woods, stab wounds in her hands and feet, her face pale and ashen. She had the same hair as you, the same shape of your mouth. He swallowed hard, anger rising in his chest.

"Why are you showing me this?" he asked, his voice strained.

"We think there might be a connection to your wife’s death," Cami said softly, her eyes full of sympathy.

"This has nothing to do with her," he growled, his fingers gripping the picture.

"They all look just like her, brother," Klaus pointed out, his brow furrowed. "It’s hard to ignore."

"No," Elijah muttered, shaking his head, refusing to accept the implication. "You’re wrong."

"Look at the pictures," Klaus insisted, his voice firm. "It’s too much of a coincidence."

Elijah’s gaze dropped back to the photos, the truth sinking in. It felt like looking at countless versions of you. And yet, none of them were truly you.

"The killer has been operating in Louisiana for years," Cami continued, her voice gentle. "No one has ever gotten close enough to identify the suspect, much less stop them."

"There was a pattern to the murders, at least until recently," Marcel added. "They were all killed in or around churches,"

"My wife wasn't murdered in a church," Elijah said, his voice hard.

"As far as we know," Klaus argued, his eyes flashing. "You found her body in the streets, but it doesn't mean she was killed there."

Elijah let out a frustrated sigh, his jaw clenching. He knew his brother was right, and the thought made his blood boil.

"Whoever did this is a sick bastard," Marcel said, his voice edged with anger. "They take their time, torture their victims for days, even weeks before they kill them."

Elijah's stomach churned, and he set the photo down, his eyes closing, a wave of nausea hitting him. The thought of you suffering like that made his skin crawl, his heart ache.

"I compelled a very friendly detective to let me borrow his files," Klaus said, smirking. "The last crime scene was not too far from here,"

Elijah's eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with his brother's.

"We could take a look," Klaus suggested, his tone cautious. "Maybe there's something there we can use,"

"I'll get my coat," Elijah said, his voice flat.

Klaus nodded, a grim smile tugging at his lips.

Cami sighed, her shoulders sagging, worry etched on her features. Marcel squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, his expression solemn.

"Let's go," Elijah muttered, moving past them, his thoughts racing.

There was no way this was connected to your death, it couldn't be. And yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a chance. He didn't know what he would do if it was true.

13th century Europe Since the announcement of demons in the village, Mother Mathilde had increased her scrutiny over the sisters. You knew she was watching you, waiting for you to slip up, hoping to catch you in the act of sin. But you were careful, keeping your distance, staying out of her way. Still, she found excuses to punish you, giving you extra chores and longer hours.

"She's going to work you until your fingers bleed," Sister Margaret said, her voice hushed.

You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, though you felt anything but. "It's nothing I can't handle,"

Sister Margaret looked at you, her eyes full of concern. "Still, it isn't right. You haven't done anything wrong."

You swallowed, thinking of the night you spent with Elijah, the promises he made. Had you been foolish? Had you led him to Sister Claire, causing her death? A wave of guilt washed over you, and you shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away.

"I'll be fine," you insisted, forcing a smile.

"If you say so," Sister Margaret sighed, turning her attention back to the task at hand.

You worked in silence, scrubbing the floors, your thoughts drifting. You couldn't stop thinking about Elijah, the way he held you, the promises he made. A part of you feared him, what temptation he had brought into your life. Another part was drawn to him, the desire still lingering within you.

You felt tainted, dirty, knowing that he was a demon. Still, there was a part of you that longed for him, the desire pulsing deep within you. You couldn't explain it, the way he made you feel, the way he changed your life. It was like a force of nature, powerful and all-consuming.

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up, surprised to see Sister Margaret rushing towards it.

"I'll get it," she called, hurrying to the front of the convent.

You continued working, but your curiosity was piqued, wondering who had come to the door. You heard the muffled voices of Sister Margaret and the visitor, but you couldn't make out what they were saying.

"She's here, she'll see you," Sister Margaret said, her voice sounding surprised.

You straightened, wiping your hands on your apron, wondering who the visitor was.

Sister Margaret returned, her eyes wide, a hint of panic in her voice. "There is a nobleman here to see you... Lord Mikaelson,"

You swallowed, feeling a mixture of dread and excitement. What was he doing here? Why did he want to see you?

"Tell him I'm not available," you said quickly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Sister Margaret frowned, studying you. "Is something wrong?"

You shook your head, unable to meet her eyes. "No, everything is fine, I just... I don't feel well. Tell him I can't see him,"

She hesitated, her eyes full of concern. "I'm sorry, but he's very insistent. He says it's urgent."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. "Fine, I'll speak with him. Just give me a moment."

Sister Margaret nodded and turned, leaving you alone. You took a few moments to compose yourself, knowing that whatever Elijah had come for, it wouldn't be good. You smoothed your hair, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You walked down the corridor, stepping into the reception room. The space was sparsely furnished, with only a few chairs and a small table. The walls were bare, save for a cross and a painting of the Virgin Mary.

You could see Elijah standing by the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked out of place, dressed in a fine tunic and cloak, the sunlight casting a glow on his pale skin.

You stood in the doorway, unable to move, feeling a strange mixture of emotions.

"You shouldn't be here," you said finally, your voice trembling slightly.

He turned, his gaze locking on yours. "Neither should you,"

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I need to speak with you, in private," he replied, his voice low.

You glanced around, looking for Sister Margaret, but she was nowhere in sight. "This isn't the place," you said, shaking your head.

He approached, a hint of desperation in his eyes. "Please, just give me a moment of your time."

You hesitated, your mind racing. You knew you should send him away, but your gaze dropped to his lips, remembering the way he had kissed you, the way he had touched you.

"Tonight, in the place we went before," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

You felt a flush of heat, the memory of that night washing over you. "I can't,"

"You have to," he said, his voice urgent. "Meet me there."

You bit your lip, torn between fear and desire. Finally, you nodded, unable to deny the pull he had on you.

"Tonight," he repeated, a flicker of relief in his eyes. He turned, walking towards the door, then paused, glancing over his shoulder. "I'll be waiting."

You stood rooted to the spot, watching as he disappeared through the doorway, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall.

"What did he want?" Sister Margaret asked, startling you from your thoughts.

"I'm not sure," you lied, swallowing hard.

"Well, he seemed upset," she said, her voice full of concern. "Perhaps you should talk to Mother Mathilde."

You shook your head, the thought making your stomach churn. "No, it's not necessary."

Sister Margaret studied you for a moment, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "Don't stray from His light, sister," she warned, before turning and walking away.

You watched her go, her words echoing in your mind. You had already strayed, you thought, a wave of guilt washing over you. But what choice did you have? Your heart was drawn to Elijah, despite the danger, despite the consequences. He had stolen your heart, and you knew there was no going back.

{Part One}{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}{Part Six}

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 11)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/n find out more about their baby while trying to distance themselves from the crime.

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4k+

It'd been a few weeks since the cops chased John B and Sarah out into the storm. They were presumed dead.

People were talking. The rumor that it had actually been Rafe that had killed Peterkin was circling around the island but there was no evidence to prove it. And going after the Cameron's, especially after they'd just lost their daughter, was not a good look.

Even more so, you were showing now. Elliot Y/L/N's daughter was bearing Rafe Cameron's child. Needless to say, you and Rafe had protection.

However, that didn't stop the sideways stares you received attending Sheriff Peterkin's funeral. Or the way Topper and Kelce had slowly distanced themselves from the two of you.

"Did he do it?" Courtney had asked you as you sat across from her in her bed.

You answered with your eyes. You couldn't lie to her. But you couldn't say it out loud.

She nodded. The lack of words exchanged kept her safe. Kept Rafe safe. But she knew. She'd never say a word though. She loved you. She loved Rafe. And she loved the baby that would need both of it's parents.

-

You gripped Rafe's hand tightly as the doctor scanned your ultrasound.

"5 months! Good weight, looking healthy as can be." The doctor says. "Would you like to know the sex?"

You smile widely at his words. You could see Rafe shaking with anticipation. "Yes, please!"

"Well, Miss Y/L/N. People will owe you a lot of money. It's a boy."

You squeal with excitement and you watch as Rafe tries to contain himself, wanting nothing more than to jump around the room and cheer.

You knew from the beginning. You always knew. Call it mother's intuition. Mother. The term felt so real now.

Rafe kneels down beside you, placing kisses all over your swollen belly. You giggle at the sensation.

"I'll give you two a minute." The doctor smiles. "When you're ready, just head to the front desk and schedule your next appointment."

Rafe looked up at you, tears streaming down his cheeks. You laugh but couldn't help the tears spilling from your eyes as well.

"I can't believe this is real." He whispers against your skin. "You still want to name him after me?"

"Of course I do! Wolf's been his name since the beginning. It's who he is. I can tell. I'm his mom." You tease, getting used to referring to yourself as that.

Rafe presses a deep kiss to your lips before trailing the rest of your face with kisses. He'd never been so happy in his life.

-

Rafe gushed about your future the whole ride back to Tannyhill. About the house he was going to buy you, about colors for the nursery, about all the sports he was going to teach Wolf.

You smiled the whole way, admiring the smile on his face at the thought of his son.

When you pulled into the driveway Rafe quickly hopped out to come retrieve you. You chuckled as he pulled you inside, clutching the ultrasound pictures tightly.

"Dad! Rose! Wheeze!" He yelled.

"What's going on?" Wheezie asked, poking her head out of the living room.

"Where's dad and Rose?"

"We're right here," Rose said as her and Ward enter the foyer. "Is everything okay?"

Rafe excitedly passed out the pictures, smile wide on his face. "It's a boy!"

"Oh my God!" Wheezie squealed.

Rafe pulled you to his chest and squeezed you tightly. You were at pure bliss with how happy he was. You hadn't seen him like this in so long.

Ward was still grieving the loss of Sarah but you caught the genuine smile break across his face as he stared at the picture of his soon to be grandson. "Shit," He mumbled, running his fingers over the scruff coating his face. Rafe looked at his father hopefully. "This is-wow. Congratulations, son."

Rafe smiled. "Thanks, dad."

"You guys are gonna be great parents." Rose cooed, pulling you into a hug.

"Do you have any names for him?" Wheezie asked hopefully.

"We do, actually." You say, earning Ward's attention away from the photo in his hands.

Rafe smiles even bigger, you swear he was going to bruise his cheeks with how much he was smiling.

"Rafe-" You begin. "Rafe means Counsel of the Wolves. So we're naming him Wolf. Wolf Cameron."

"What? That's so cool!" Wheezie says. "Holy shit, I'm gonna be an aunt!"

"Language, Wheeze!" Rose scolds.

"Your, uh...your mother named you. I didn't know that was the meaning." Ward said softly, almost disappointed in himself for not knowing that.

"Thought he should have a strong name," You start, wrapping your arms around Rafe's waist and looking up at him. "Like his daddy."

Rafe was an absolute mess of pure bliss.

"Okay, uh..." Rafe says, running his fingers through his hair manically. "I have to take you out tonight. Wherever you want. Whatever you and Wolf are hungry for."

"Oh, let us cook!" Wheezie says. "Please?!"

You glance at her and Rose. They both seemed eager to make a special dinner for the two of you.

Rafe looks at you, eager to know what you want to do. You were beginning to feel overwhelmed.

"Uhm, yeah Wheeze! That sounds good! Italian?" You offer.

"On it!" Wheezie says, running to the kitchen.

"You two go rest." Rose smiles. "Rafe, breathe."

You notice the way Wheezie and Rose pin your ultrasound photos to the fridge. You also notice the way Ward stuffs his in his pocket.

"Uh, Y/N. I have something for you." Ward says as he walks back to his office. You and Rafe follow slowly. Ward picks an envelope off his desk and hands it to you. "From your father."

Your breath hitches. You'd written your dad a while ago to tell him the news but you hadn't heard back. You were at the Cameron's so often you had just sent the letter from there. "Thanks," You say, taking the letter from him warily. You had no idea what your father's reaction would be and you knew Ward would be eager to know.

You and Rafe head up to his room. You still had a few more photos from the ultrasound and you watched as Rafe propped one up on his nightstand, smiling down at it. It made your heart flutter.

You sat on the bed and sighed, staring at the letter. Rafe sat behind you, pulling you into him. The feeling of his arms around you calmed your nerves.

You ran your nail under the envelope to open it. You took a deep breath as you unfolded the letter.

Y/N,

Wow. It's so good to hear from you. Although, that was not the news I was expecting to get. Pregnant. I'll be honest, I went through a range of emotions at first. One of them being the urge to strangle Rafe. But I talked to some of the people here. They are really great. They helped me realize that you are an adult. You won't always be my little girl.

You are so much like your mother, and because of that, I know that you will be a great mother. And I know Rafe will be a great father. I trust he is taking good care of you. I trust that all the Cameron's are. I pray you're staying clean. For yourself and your new little family. I know you can do it. You're strong. You just have to put your strength to use in the right places.

I hate to do it, but I will be staying for a few more months. I miss you and I wish so badly I was there with you, but this experience has really opened my eyes and I just don't feel like I am ready to leave yet. But when I come back I will be a better father and grandfather. I can't tell you how excited I am to meet him or her.

Take care of yourself. I love you. Talk soon.

Dad

You stared at the letter with a lack of emotions. You knew they were there somewhere but you just couldn't bring yourself to feel them. You'd built up a wall. Of course he was staying longer. You weren't surprised. I mean, good for him right? It's what he needs. At least he is happy for you and not grabbing the first flight home to murder Rafe.

You fold the letter up and set it to the side. "You okay?" Rafe asks.

"Mhmm," You say. "I'm really sleepy. Can we nap?"

"Of course, my love."

Rafe gets up and shuts the blinds in his room before crawling back into bed beside you. He wraps his arm around you and tucks his hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over your belly.

"Shit!" You hiss and grab your stomach.

"What? Are you okay? What happened?!" Rafe asks.

You chuckle. "Nothing, babe, I'm fine. He's just kicking." You reassure him. "Here, feel." You guide Rafe's hand to the spot where a tiny foot was thumping against your inner belly.

"Holy shit," Rafe smiles. "That's our son." His voice was so soft, so absolutely entranced by the movements inside you.

You smile, enjoying the little jolts inside your stomach as Rafe caressed you skin.

-

You woke up around 7pm to Rafe bringing you a plate of chicken alfredo.

"Oh shit," You mutter, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. "I forgot Wheezie and Rose were cooking for us."

"It's okay, baby. I told them you were really tired. We can just eat in here and watch a movie."

You smile, taking the plate from him. You were grateful for their efforts but you don't think you'd be able to make it downstairs without falling asleep.

You lazily ate your food as Jurassic Park played on the tv. You were starving but you could barely keep your eyes open. You managed to finish your food and set your plate on the night stand before pulling yourself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.

You peed and chugged a glass of water before stumbling back and collapsing in bed.

"Back to bed, my angel? Did you eat enough?"

"Mhmm," You groan. "Shhh, I go sleep now."

Rafe giggled and placed a kiss on your head, instantly shipping you off to dreamland once again. Pregnancy made you tired.

-

"Rafe,"

Rafe snaps awake to find Ward standing in the dark of his room.

"What? What is it?" He asked sleepily, looking over at you to make sure you were still asleep.

"I need your help." Ward said.

Rafe slowly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake you, and followed his dad outside.

"I need you to keep quiet and stay calm okay?" Ward said.

"Yeah, okay." Rafe responded nervously.

Ward pulled back the cover on the truck to reveal a large bag.

"W-what is that?"

"It's a body, son."

"Oh my God." Rafe says, losing control of his breathing. "Oh my God, it's a body? Whose body is it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? My girlfriend is upstairs! Whose body is it, dad?!

"It's Gavin!" Ward hisses, slapping his hand over Rafe's mouth.

Rafe pulls back. "Gavin? The pilot? W-why? What'd he do?"

"He was trying to blackmail us. He had the gun that you used to kill Peterkin. I told him to throw it over the ocean on the way to the Bahamas but he didn't. He kept it." Ward explained.

Rafe's eyes were wide with anxiety.

"He was going to turn you in, Rafe. I couldn't let that happen. Not when-" Ward sighs. "Not with Wolf on the way..."

Rafe eyed his father for a moment before glancing back to the body. "He said you were a psychopath, Rafe, and that he wasn't going to jail for you. Now can you please help me carry him to the boat."

Rafe took a deep breath, absorbing all the information. Gavin was a threat. Ward took care of him. Just like Rafe took care of Peterkin. A dead witness meant a safe place for him and his family.

"I got the head." He says.

-

You woke up to an empty space beside you. You frowned, hoping Rafe was just downstairs.

You reached for your phone and scrolled through your messages.

Rafe: Gotta take care of some business. I'll be back later. I love you more than life.

You sighed. You knew it wasn't work related business.

You open the next message.

Courtney: Wanna kick it?

You smile. You needed to get out of the house and do something.

Please. You respond.

You get up and go to Rafe's bathroom, pulling open your drawer where you kept your make up, tampons, moisturizer, and all the other shit you could possibly need when you stay at his house. Although you had your own drawer, lashes and hair ties and glitter still took up most of his bathroom counter.

You get to work on your face, opting for a simple make up look since you and Courtney planned to spend the day getting your nails done and shopping for Wolf.

Here, bitch

You smile, checking yourself in the mirror one more time before heading downstairs.

You hop in Courtney's car and hold up your nails. "Take me to the salon right fucking now. This should be illegal!"

Courtney examined your pink claws in desperate need for a rebase. "Atleast you still have all yours. I'm missing three!"

Courtney backs out of Tannyhill and makes her way to town. "Soooo?" She asks. "How was the doctor yesterday? Did you find out what you're having?!"

You look over at her and smile. "It's a boy."

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Courtney screams. "YAYAYAYAYAY!!!"

"We're naming him Wolf." You smile.

"Oh my God that's so fucking cute!!! Where'd you come up with that?"

"Naming him after Rafe. He's absolutely over the moon."

Courtney beams over at you. "I still can't believe you guys are having a baby. Really never thought I'd see the day you or Rafe Cameron settled down."

"I wouldn't exactly say we're settled." You laugh.

"Where is Rafe anyways?"

You shrug. "Said he was taking care of some business. I don't really want to know to be honest."

Courtney nods and decides not to press it further. The two of you go to the salon. You opt for white toenails to bring out your tan and glittery gold coffin nails for your fingers. You felt like a new person as you walked around town, looking at the cute baby items all the shops had. You couldn't believe you were spending a Saturday shopping for a baby instead of getting fucked up on the beach. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Yo, is that Rafe and Barry?" Courtney asked suddenly as the two of you made your way down the street.

You look up to see Rafe and Barry fucking with the water system. "What the fuck..." You whisper to yourself before heading towards them. "What are you two doing?"

Rafe and Barry turn to look at you at you and Courtney. "Uuhhhh..."

"You better not try to lie to me right now, Rafe Cameron." You said sternly.

Rafe knew better than to lie. He took your arm and pulled you to the side. "My dad lost the gun..." He stated quietly.

"The one-"

"Yes." He cut you off. "He dropped it down the sewer by accident. We're trying to get it back."

Before you could respond your heard the sound of echoing voices.

"Guys! There's something dead in here!"

You and Rafe walked closer to the sound.

"Is it Gavin?! Do you see the gun?!"

The fucking Pogues.

"They're in the sewer." Rafe states.

"Shit..." You hear Courtney say.

Rafe turns back to Barry. "Flush 'em out."

"You flush that pipe, you gonna kill the rat." Barry warns.

"Yeah." Rafe's voice was confident.

"The last thing you need is more dead bodies showin' up around this bitch."

"If you're gonna be a pussy then you can leave." Rafe says.

"Do you not realize what you are doing, bruh?"

You and Courtney watch as Barry and Rafe stare at eachother for a moment.

"Get the hell out of the way." Rafe finally says. Barry does as he's told and leaves. The three of you standing in silence. You glance at Courtney.

"I'll go get the car," She said. "Be ready."

Courtney walks off towards the car and you turn to Rafe. "They all know?"

He bites his lip and nods.

"Okay. Drown 'em." You tell him. You tried not to think about the murderous path you had joined Rafe on, but you needed to protect your family. These Pogues were going to try to take him down and you couldn't let that happen.

Rafe smiles at you and you smile back. He begins turning the wheel and you watch as water begins to bubble out of the manhole. You listen closely for the voices.

"Guys! The water!" You can hear Kiara yell. "Guys, help!!"

You laugh. "Got 'em."

Courtney pulls up quickly and you and Rafe jump in her car. She speeds off towards Figure Eight, leaving the Pogues to drown in the sewer system.

-

You stared out at the moonlight hitting the water while Rafe and Ward talked.

"I looked for it everywhere, I swear to God." Rafe said.

"I know, I know. I'm not mad at you."

"Listen, if those Pogues got the gun we can just say John B stole it, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah I mean he lived at the house." Ward responded. "He's a known thief. Absolutely, yes."

You turn to Rafe. He holds out his arm for you and pulls you close to him. You remained quiet while him and Ward talked. You were as much a part of this now as they both were. There was no way you'd be kept out of the loop and they knew that. Even though you were pregnant, you still possessed all the crazy that Rafe did and now that the two of you were expecting, it fueled your fire even more, ready to do absolutely anything to take care of your baby.

"Listen, guys..." Ward begins. "I have to fly to the Bahamas tomorrow. Will you-will you guys go with me?"

Rafe looks at you and you smile your approval. "Yeah, yes sir."

"Good. It will be good to get you guys out of here. And honestly, I feel like I need someone to have my back."

"I got that. All day." Rafe says.

Ward looks at Rafe with love in his eyes. An expression you barely ever see from him. "You do, don't you?"

Rafe smiles. The smile only you and his dad are able to pull out of him. It makes your heart melt.

"Are you okay to fly?" Ward asks you.

"Yeah. I'll be good." You say with a smile.

"Okay. I'll see you two in the morning."

"You sure you're okay to go, sweet girl?" Rafe asks once his dad disappears down the dock.

You felt your hormones take over suddenly and you couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips.

"Baby girl, what's wrong?!" Rafe asked, pulling you into his chest.

"I just-I just want to be with you." You cry. "All the time. I hate when I'm not with you."

"I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

"This is just all so overwhelming, Rafe. I just want you to be okay. I'm so scared."

Rafe kneels down in front of you, holding your hips and placing kisses to your belly. He looks up at you. "I'm okay, baby girl. I'm going to make sure everything is okay. I'm going to take care of you and Wolfie, okay?"

You stare down at him through watery eyes and nod, running your fingers through his hair.

"Nothing will take apart our family. I promise." He tells you.

You smile. He smiles back, standing up and pressing his lips to yours. "Let's go pack, baby."

-

You practically want to kiss the ground when you touch down in Nassau. You were puking the entire plane ride. Rafe holding your hair back over a bucket while Ward flew the plain. You had no morning sickness your entire pregnancy but as soon as you were in the air you could not hold on to your stomach.

Once you got into the truck and rolled the windows down you felt a thousand times better. Ward stopped and picked up some sandwiches which you were grateful for because you had absolutely nothing in your stomach.

When you pulled up to the Cameron's Bahama house you were more than excited to go inside and lay down.

"I'm sorry this trip's been so hard, baby." Rafe says sadly as he helps you out of the car.

"It's okay. I'm just glad we're here." You say, lacing your fingers through his and resting the other hand on your baby bump.

"I didn't just bring you guys here because I need your help." Ward says. "I want to show you guys something."

Ward walks over to the large safe he had built into the wall. "You ready?"

You hold Rafe's hand tightly. "What you got in there? The Hope Diamond?" Rafe chuckles.

Ward smiles and opens the door to the safe. Your jaw drops at the sight. Gold. A lot. Of fucking. Gold.

"Is that real?" Rafe asks.

"Son, that's the realest thing there is." Ward says. He grabs two blocks of gold and hands one to each of you.

You gasp at the weight of it in your hands.

"You found..." Rafe begins. "You found the Royal Merchant?"

"Holy shit," You whispered.

"That's what all this has been about. The shit with John B, his dad, Peterkin. It's what Elliot and I worked out. All this gold, it's ours now. It can't bring your sister back, but it can save us."

"Jesus," Rafe whispers, you look up at him in awe.

"When Agatha hit we were in a financial hole, a deep one. Now we're not."

"How much are we looking at here?" You ask as you eye the gold.

"Half a billion." Ward responds.

You drop the gold to the floor as you turn to look at him. "Half-half a billion?"

Ward chuckles, picking the gold bar up off the ground.

"Oh, my God." Rafe says. "Holy shit!" He skips to the back porch. "Whoo! Haha! Dad what?! How is this even possible, huh?!"

You could feel a tear escape your eye as you laughed. You were set for life. I mean shit, you already were, but now you really were. You and Rafe could get a place of your own, you'd be able to send Wolf to college. The world was literally yours.

"Rafe look at me, look." Ward says, grabbing Rafe's shoulders. "I'm hard on you, Rafe. I'm real hard on you. That day on the tarmac. This is what was on the cargo plane." Ward says, holding up a piece of gold. "You were the only reason we were able to fly that out."

You look over at them, watching Rafe absorb his father's words.

"You, Rafe. Without you, no gold."

You walk over to them, pulling them both into a hug.

"You guys will be set. Wolf will be set for life. We wouldn't have this gold without the two of you." Ward says.

Rafe turns and wraps his arms fully around you, picking you up and twirling you around. Ward smiles at the sight of you two.

You giggle in Rafe's arms, pressing a deep kiss to his lips when he sets you down.

"You two go get some rest. We're flying this out first thing in the morning." Ward says, patting Rafe on the back. "You feeling okay, Y/N?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm great. Thank you for this." You say to Ward.

"Wouldn't have been able to do it without your dad's help." Ward smiles. "Now go. Figure out what school my grandson will be attending."

You chuckle and offer a smile.

"Thanks, dad." Rafe says before grabbing both your bags and heading upstairs, pulling you along with him.

He brings you to his room of the Bahama house. It was gorgeous. Gold assets and a large double door that lead out to a patio facing the ocean. It looked like a hotel room at the Versace mansion.

You and Rafe were all smiles. "We're set, baby." Rafe says as the two of you lay down on his bed. "We're fucking set."

You laugh. You couldn't believe how fucking set you were. "I fucking love you, Rafe."

"Marry me." He says quickly, but meaningfully. As if the question, or the demand, has been in his head forever. "Please. Please, marry me."

You look over at him in shock.

"I will buy you the prettiest ring. I promise. I just want..." He starts, turning towards you and cupping your cheek. "I want you to be my wife."

You place your hand over his and smile. "Of course I'll marry you, Rafe."

That sets off his big ass grin. "Really?"

"Yes. YES!" You say excitedly.

Rafe rolls you over, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips as he hovers over you. "I'm gonna put another baby in you now." He whispers against your lips.

"I don't think it works like that," You giggle.

"I'm gonna try anyways," He says, reaching under your dress and ripping your panties off.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 3

Description: where the hell did this motivation come from?! Anyway. Ray gets some background added here, also soon to be reunited with some old friends, if you can call them that, of hers. Hint: they’re Mexican…

You shouldn’t have hesitated. Should have marched straight on out while you still had the chance. But he had called you by your name. It still catches you off guard. You much prefer to be detached from people, you like the unfamiliarity of Ray, or better yet, sergeant, soldier, or whatever the hell your higher ups wanted to call you.

“Please, y/n, wait..” he tries again. You close your eyes at the sound of your name, once again, caught off guard. “Let me explain.. please..”

“Don’t start begging, Garrick” you murmur, not turning around, scared that if you make eye contact with him, he might sway you.

“Give us a chance. C’mon. For old time’s sake, huh? We were always a good team, me and you.. once you get to know the oth”—

“Stop right there. Don’t go any further” you warn, still not facing him, but holding up a hand in a signal to halt his rambling.

“You left, moved on to bigger and better things.. I get that, Gaz, I do, and well done for that.. but I was left in the dirt, remember? Called in to help provide extra support for your op. My entire unit was wiped from existence within hours. And you expect me to come skipping back into the fray, with a team of strangers, might I add, who already have prior reason not to trust me, and expect me to put my neck on the chopping board..?”

Kyle looks taken aback by your outburst, gulping slightly. “No.. no, it’s not like that.. and, I’m not a stranger, am I?” he says with a hopeful smile.

“Aren’t you?” you reply, with a bite. Kyle inhales sharply, clearly upset by your mean words.

“..you’ve changed” he speaks now, quietly. Your stomach drops, it sounded more like he was accusing you.. it didn’t feel good. It felt like you were letting him, hell - everyone, down.

Really? Hadn’t noticed your brain supplies, but doesn’t verbalise. You just scoff at his statement instead, trying not to let it eat you alive.

“When we first met, when we were sixteen, seventeen?.. you were happier.. nicer” yeah, that’s a low blow, Garrick... “you were proud to be serving. I remember thinking ‘wow she’s one of the good ones’.. y’know? Not one of the pricks that join as a dick measuring contest, but someone who wanted to make a different. Try to save lives, and do the right thing…”

You listen to Kyle, his words actually starting to make inroads into breaking down the wall you’d built. No, don’t let him in!!

“I was ignorant” you mutter.

“No, you weren’t”

“I was stupid” you rebut, quickly.

“Definitely weren’t. You’re were the smartest of all of us. Still are, probably” Kyle argues.

“Fine whatever.. I’m not like that anymore. The me from before.. she’s misshapen and deformed. She’s gone. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Nah, she’s still there somewhere..the fact you’re still standing there, listening to me, tells me otherwise..” damn you, Garrick.

As if on cue, the bitch nurse from the front desk pops her head through the door. “Time’s up” she snips.

“I was just leaving anyway” you snap back, stepping forward to leave the room. You expect Kyle to pipe up from behind you, try to convince you to stay. But he stays silent. That’s weird. Why do I want to look? Why is my head turning without my consent?

You look back. Stupid bitch, why did I look back?! Your eyes are instantly drawn to his. He is looking right back at you, with strength and determination in his eyes. He gives you a single nod. “I’ll see you later, Ray”.

Will you? You sound so sure about that..?

Fucking Kyle Garrick! That boy had managed to wear you down. You’d spent so long building up those walls, convincing yourself that you weren’t a soldier anymore, convincing yourself that you were out. For good. Why then, were your feet matching you straight back towards the Captain’s office?

You barge through, not going to the bother of knocking. The three men, who were clearly in the thick of a heated discussion, go silent, and stare at you. You take three strong steps up to the Captain’s desk, slamming both hands against the wood, loudly.

“You have about two minutes to explain why I’m here, what you want from me, and why you’ve kept tabs on me for years” you growl at the Captain, who looks completely calm, as is this was normal for him.

“Awkt, see! Telt you the lassie would come around tae the idea!” the Scottish voice laughs, in the silence of the office.

You spin, like a beast possessed, marching toward the mo-hawked man, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, shaking him up slightly.

“And YOU, have about two seconds, to shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but if you keep talking to me, or about me, you’ll find out what my fuckin’ fist feels like..” his mouth snaps shut, and he nods, in an almost childlike way.

The masked Lieutenant just grumbles a short chuckle, and stays silent.

You return to Price’s desk and raise an eyebrow, checking your watch dramatically (totally ignoring the fact that your wrist was not clad in a watch whatsoever)

“Minute and a half left, captain. Better start taking..” you warn.

“Alright, soldier, listen up. I tried to take both you and Garrick at the same time. Red tape bullshit stopped me from doing that. I went to the higher ups and by the time I was cleared to take you, you’d been absorbed into another unit. We were busy on ops and time ran away from me. Gaz kept on nagging me to get onto Laswell, but all I kept hearing was that you were deployed, over seas, on leave and so on..”

You listen, in silence, hunched over his desk, the anger that had been radiating off of you, slowly, ever so slowly, dissipating.

“Anyway, when your unit crossed paths in Russia, I had planned to bring the transfer up to Laswell upon completion, seeing as you were finally right there, in front of us. I don’t think anyone expected it to end the way it did. We were fed bad intel, the mission was a bust. You know as well as I do, you were all wiped. We only just made it out, Shepherd somehow weaselled his way out as well, not even a scratch on the old bastard” Price scoffs, clearly not a fan of Shepherd.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it went wrong.. really..” he apologises. I look at my boots, and gulp.

“30 seconds left..” I grit out, trying not to show emotion.

“We circled back, covered the dead zones. You weren’t there. We assumed.. you were killed. Gaz wouldn’t leave it, though. At the very least, that boy wanted to bury a body. But there was nothin’ to be found of you apart from a smashed up pistol, that Garrick insisted was yours. I must admit, I didn’t understand why he was so adamant about you. You were a stranger to the rest of us, after all..”

“To cut a long story short, we’ve needed someone with your skillset for a few years. I would have given you a contract the day of the ceremony, but.. we know what happened. I saw it, that day, our first face to face conversation, that you needed a break. You needed time to cool off. I didn’t know Garrick had a tracker in his wallet. Not until he told me a few months later. I thought you’d reach out. Us soldiers, even when we promise that we’re out for good, we crawl back, hell or high water. When you didn’t surface, after a year, I asked Laswell to check on you.. to make sure you hadn’t…”

“Wishful thinking..” you interrupt, solemnly joking at the fact they’d thought you’d topped yourself.

The captain’s jaw ticks at your dark humour, but he continues anyway. “I have a few pieces of intel that we need to follow. We are headed to Mexico, within the week, could do with a sniper and Spanish speaker.. I want you to be a member of Taskforce 1-4-1. I want you to understand, though, that this team is my family. We would bleed and die for each other. If you join, that extends to you. Understood?”

“………”

[sanderssidesthehouse]

First of all, the reason it took me so long to put this out was bc I was trying to find good shots of their outfits and I simply couldn't except for Remus. Theoretically they all wear pants. I swear we've gotten good shots of them, I just can't find them anywhere so if anyone wants to help a guy out and send some my way, thanks in advance.

Look, is Logan hot? Yes. But it’s not because of the outfit. It’s because of the autism.

Just put him in a whole ass button up and some slacks and nice shoes, keep the tie, he doesn’t need a full suit, but if he’s trying to look professional, that’s literally what district managers and office workers wear, it would do. Now, if he did some character development and wanted to express his interests via clothing, we could throw in a lab coat or maybe a heavy duty apron. If he wanted to be more casual, you know he’s wearing a NASA bomber and star patterned converse but he also definitely put the stars and such on there himself. Space nerd has to have a favorite galaxy he could map out.

He’s not giving enough. He could be giving so much more. He’s Creativity and he is extra as hell, you’re telling me he couldn’t be MORE extravagant? Where are the furs? The cape? The crown? The DRAMA??? He’s playing a prince, but a prince can wear eyeliner. Where is it? Give him some gold highlighter, I want to be able to see him from the moon. A prince has got to slay, but what is he slaying? My spirits? With his current outfit, certainly. I’m mad because he can do better. He’s so boring to look at. Maybe it’s because he’s not just a prince, he’s specifically a Disney prince, but just because we’re pulling from a source material doesn’t mean we can’t spice it up, ok? Adaptation is allowed and encouraged to make improvements. But I’m also not really a Disney fan. You didn’t come here for unbiased facts anyway, you came her for my bad opinions.

I don’t think you can get any more Catholic guilt than that look so potential is met. Unfortunately the only thing he’s serving is church dad who cries himself to sleep next to his wife that he never has sex with because he’s gay but scared to admit it. She loves him but knows there’s something missing and resents him for it. They still have two and a half kids as is standard. Their picket fence is white. He’s living in suburban purgatory. He projects a little too much onto his dog. This is what he’s serving. I’m not eating it. Um, personality, yeah the fit pretty much sums him up. I hope at some point it doesn’t. I hope he gets better. Someone help him.

I know he’s on the cusp of proper development so he might get a new fit soon? Or not idk. I hope if he does it’s froggy. Give him one of those frog rain hats that would be cute af. He just wants to be silly, let him be silly, please for the love of everything, someone let him be silly.

I think we could have went harder into a subculture. Emo/punk and he doesn’t even paint his nails or wear a choker. What a fucking poser. The patches on the sweatshirt and holes in his T are good, though. He could also probably do with piercings and more make up. I do love that as a collective the fandom decided to have him keep the purple hair bc that really did him some good. I understand it's annoying to put chalk or wax in your hair every time to play him, but it would get him another point in the potential category. I just want him to look cool.

Serving- Dark sides know how to serve a look. If you’re going to be morally neutral/grey you have to make up for it by being hot. They don’t make the rules but the rules were definitely made for them.

Personality- I know exactly who he is by looking at him: A fucking dork. I love my dork ass wife.

Potential- There’s always room for improvement. Namely a yellow ribbon strip on the hat. I know in my heart of hearts that it’s there, but my eyes betray me.

idek if I’d say the cape is an improvement, I think they were right not to include it because it doesn’t really add anything to the way he’s been portrayed. Though I would love to see an occasion where he can play around with the cape because I love capes. I just feel like a variation of landsknecht would have served him well. Maybe paned slops. Pumpkin breeches. Do you see the vision? He just needs some slutty little booty shorts to amp up the bottom energy, and he already has the sleeve design to go with it.

Look, he’s not even my boy, but I’m going to defend Patton on this one. What else could we possibly do here? (I’m serious, please tell me, I want to hear about your Patton designs.) He’s just you’re emotionally repressed dad! Not MY emotionally repressed dad, for certain, mine wears Hawaiian shirts, Bermuda shorts, and crocs, but SOMEBODY’s emotionally repressed church dad. Probably. Maybe.

He’s not SUPPOSED to be all ‘it’s called fashion, sweaty’ because he’s just a guy! A very normal, boring guy! That’s part of his whole thing! He’s church dad! And his outfit shows it! Anyway, sorry Patton. I didn’t mean to expose you to this kind of outfit negativity. (This portion is mostly a joke. Idc if you think his outfit sucks. It does, that just happens to be in character which makes it technically not suck in my opinion.)

Maybe now that Janus has his hands on him Patton's fashion sense will improve. Light sides just don't do it like the dark sides.

[belovanat2]

Our new chance, pt.4

Agatha and Rio are given a new chance. 

It's age regression, if you don't like it, don't read it - NEXT CHAPTER WE’RE GOING TO SEE MORE ABOUT AGERE

Alice is the reader's name, unrelated to the show.

I'm going to write several chapters, so it may take a while for the story to unfold. 

English its not my first language.

Rio and Agatha help Alice to get ready on the bed in the guest room, so that the couple can go back to sleep and Alice can start resting.

"Okay, I think everything's ready for you to go to rest," Rio says leaning against the guest room door next to Agatha, staring at Alice who was sitting on the bed.

"Do you need anything else before you go to sleep?" Agatha asks less indifferently this time.

"No, it's all very well, thank you for the evening Miss Agatha and Rio," Alice replies formally and the two older women laugh lightly.

"When you wake up, you can call Agatha and I, okay?" Rio asks, waiting for the girl to answer, but she only nods.

"We'll let you rest now, good night... Alice..." Agatha replies with a sad smile and leaves before the girl can answer.

"Door open or closed dear?" Rio asks

"Open please" she replies shyly and Rio nods.

"Good night, anything just call me”

"Thank you, good night..." Alice replies and Rio leaves her alone to go to her and Agatha's room to go back to sleep.

As soon as she hears the two of them, she quietly goes to her backpack and takes out a teddy, a teddy she wouldn't sleep without at all. She went back to bed, lying under the softest covers she had ever seen or come close to. The house was very comfortable. She wished she'd had a life like that....

She decided to go to bed soon, because she wanted to wake up before the women so that she could leave without them noticing. 

She just didn't know how to deal with goodbyes, and she was in a bad situation, she didn't want to have to talk about it. And what if Rio and Agatha changed their minds in the end, and called the police on her, and they took her to a shelter or back to her mother. That would be terrible.

She decides to push the bad thoughts away and hugs her teddy and falls into a deep sleep.

----

In the early hours of the morning, all three of the girls in the house were sleeping soundly but restlessly. It was a restless night. 

Near dawn, Alice woke up, realizing that she was lucky to have been the only one to wake up.

She looked around the room and mentally thanked herself for a comfortable night's sleep. But she had to leave. 

Alice politely tidies up the bed and leaves the room as it was. She even manages to find pen and paper to write "thank you". 

She puts her favorite stuffed animal back in her backpack and leaves the room as quietly as possible, this time being very careful not to make any noise.

----

Agatha's dream

Nicky appeared in her dream, they were lying on the grass, the little family present. Rio, Agatha and Nicky. Laughing and telling stories.

Until the boy sat up abruptly, looking frightened. 

"Nicky, baby, what happened?" Agatha asks, sitting down next to her son with her wife accompanying her.

He looks desperately at them both.

"She's leaving, moms! She's leaving!" He despairs, gasping for breath.

"Who? Who's leaving?" Rio asks, confused by her son's reaction. 

"My sister, my sister Alice!" He starts to cry, and the two women look at each other in fright without understanding "Don't let her go, go! Quick, don't let her go! Wake up! Wake up!" Nicky begins to speak repeatedly.

These words echoed in Agatha's mind. She wakes up gasping 

“She's leaving!" She says, nudging Rio awake.

"What?" Rio asks sleepily.

"Alice is leaving," she says, getting up and looking for Rio to do the same. 

Rio then obeys her wife's pleading look and quickly gets out of bed. The two of them head for the stairs. Agatha holds Rio's hand and looks at her deeply.

"It's really her..." she says, starting to tear up "Nicky told me..."

Rio looks at her in shock, with her heart in her hand, but gives Agatha a reassuring smile. 

The two then run back up the stairs and spot Alice about to open the door and leave. The girl doesn't even notice them.

"No!" Agatha shouts and Alice jumps up frightened "Don’t go" the woman holds back the tears that insist on coming out.

Alice turns to face the women. "How did they know?" She thinks.

"Where are you going?" Rio asks in a slightly lower voice, trying not to scare the girl any more.

Alice lowers her head in shame.

"I have to go, I can't stay..." she replies in a whisper 

"Why not?" Agatha asks, moving closer to the girl.

"This isn't my home... I have to find my place" Alice looked at Agatha, who was visibly upset.

Agatha sighs and puts her hand on the younger girl's chin, making her stare at her. Rio approached, even though she knew Agatha wouldn't hurt the girl, she knew her wife was upset by the dream she'd had. 

"But it can be," Agatha finally says, and Alice opens her eyes in surprise, "this can be your home, you don't have to leave."

Rio also looked at the woman in surprise. This was an exciting and confusing moment for everyone.

"What do you mean?" Alice asks in a shaky, unsure voice.

"She's saying that we want you to stay," Rio interferes, hugging her wife and looking at Alice's soft but frightened features.

"But.... But why?" The girl asks confused. No one ever wanted her, never made a point of her presence, this had to be a joke. She began to cry, her thoughts racing.

"Because it's been right... since the beginning," Agatha replies, this time letting a tear fall. She takes Alice's hands and holds them, caressing them "What do you think, darling?" 

They all sit in silence for a minute, thinking, confused and breathless. 

"I think... I think I want to stay too" Alice replies with a shy smile

[faaun]

oh my god ! haha . anyway a bit buzzed perhaps. anyway here's what happened on the date

[t4tstarvingdog]

had the craziest nightmare today. hit every nightmare genre and added a new one just for me

[iftitah]

she's talking on a call with her parents about how it was her luck and gods will what got her into this college who's gonna tell her of course no one because you know 🤡🤡

[acourtofquestions]

No. No, it couldn't have been a dream The escape, Rowan, the ship to Terrasen—

A dream. An illusion. Her escape from him, from Maeve, had been another illusion.

Had she said it? Had she said where the Keys were hidden?

Then a cool, cultured voice purred, "All that training, and this is what becomes of you?" Not real. Arobynn, standing on the other side of the altar, was not real.

"Even Sam held out better than this."

Fenrys snarled.

You could get out of these chains, if you really wanted," Arobynn said, frowning with distaste. "If you really tried."

No, she couldn't, and everything had been a dream, a lie.

"You let yourself remain captive. Because the moment you are free..." Arobynn chuckled. "Then you must offer yourself up, a lamb to slaughter."

Only hearing the King of the Assassins, unseen and unnoted beside her.

"Deep down, you're hoping you'll be here long enough that the young King of Adarlan will pay the price. Deep down, you know you're hiding here, waiting for him to clear the path." Arobynn leaned against the side of the altar, cleaning his nails with a dagger. "Deep down, you know it's not really fair, that those gods picked you. That Elena picked you instead of him. She bought you time to live, yes, but you were still chosen to pay the price. Her price And the gods'?"

Arobynn ran a long-fingered hand down the side of her face. "Do you see what I tried to spare you from all these years? What you might have avoided had you remained Celaena, remained with me?" He smiled. "Do you see, Aelin?"

She could not answer. Had no voice. Cairn hit bone, and—

Aelin lunged upward, hands grasping for her thigh. No chains weighed her. No mask smothered her. No dagger had been twisted into her body. Breathing hard, the scent of musty sheets clinging to her nose, the sounds of her screaming replaced by the drowsy chirping of birds, Aelin scrubbed at her face.

The prince who'd fallen asleep beside her was already running a hand down her back in silent, soothing strokes.

A dream. Just a dream.

She twisted, setting her feet to the threadbare carpet on the uneven wood floor.

"Dawn isn't for another hour," Rowan said.

Yet Aelin reached for her shirt. "I'll get warmed up, then." Maybe run, as she had not been able to do in weeks and weeks.

Rowan sat up, missing nothing. "Training can wait, Aelin." They'd been doing it for weeks now, as thorough and grueling as it had been at Mistward.

She shoved her legs into her pants, then buckled on her sword belt.

"No, it can't."

A gathering storm to the north had forced their ship to find harbor last night—and after weeks at sea, none of them had hesitated to spend a few hours on land. To learn what in hell had happened while they'd been gone.

The answer: war.

Everywhere, war raged. But where the fighting occurred, the aging innkeeper didn't know. Boats didn't stop at the port anymore— and the great warships just sailed past. Whether they were enemy or friendly, he also didn't know.

Aelin scowled. "What." It wasn't so much of a question as demand.

His gaze was unfaltering. As it had been when she'd returned from her run through the misty fields beyond the inn and found him leaning against the apple tree. "That's enough for today."

"We've hardly started." She lifted her blade.

Rowan kept his own lowered. "You barely slept last night."

Aelin tensed. "Bad dreams." An understatement. She lifted her chin and threw him a grin. "Perhaps I'm starting to wear you down a bit."

His canines gleamed. "You need to eat."

"I need to train."

She couldn't stop it-that need to do something. To be in motion.

No matter how many times she swung her blade, she could feel them. The shackles. And whenever she paused to rest, she could feel it, too—her magic. Waiting.

Indeed, it seemed to open an eye and yawn.

She clenched her jaw, and attacked again Rowan met each blow, and she knew her maneuvers were descending into sloppiness.

Knew he let her continue rather than seizing the many openings to end it.

She couldn't stop. War raged around them People were dying. And she had been locked in that damned box, had been taken apart again and again, unable to do anything.

Rowan struck, so fast she couldn't track it. But it was the foot he slid before her own that doomed her, sending her careening into the dirt.

"I win," he panted. "Let's eat."

Aelin glared up at him. "Another round."

Rowan just sheathed his sword. "After breakfast."

She growled. He growled right back.

"Don't be stupid," he said. "You'll lose all that muscle if you don't feed your body. So eat. And if you still want to train afterward, I'll train with you." He offered her a tattooed hand.

But Aelin said, "People are dying. In Terrasen. In-everywhere. People are dying, Rowan."

"Your eating breakfast isn't going to change that." Her lips curled in a snarl, but he cut her off. "I know people are dying. We are going to help them. But you need to have some strength left, or you won't be able to."

Truth. Her mate spoke truth. And yet she could see them, hear them. Those dying, frightened people. Whose screams so often sounded like her own.

Rowan wriggled his fingers in silent reminder. Shall we?

Aelin scowled and took his hand, letting him haul her to her feet. So pushy.

Rowan slid an arm around her shoulders. That's the most polite thing you've ever said about me.

Elide's eyes widened. Widened further as he opened his mouth, and took a bite. His swallow was audible. His cringe barely contained. Elide reined in her smile at the pure misery that entered the Lion's tawny stare. Aelin and Rowan had been finishing up a similar battle when she'd entered the taproom minutes ago, the queen wishing her luck before striding back into the courtyard.

Elide hadn't seen her sit still for longer than it took to eat a meal. Or during the hours when she'd instructed them in Wyrdmarks, after Rowan had requested she teach them.

It had gotten her out of the chains, the prince had explained. And if the ilken were resistant to their magic, then learning the ancient marks would come in handy with all they faced ahead. The battles both physical and magic.

Gavriel met her stare, and Elide again restrained her laugh.

She felt, rather than saw, Lorcan enter. The innkeeper instantly found somewhere else to be. The man hadn't been surprised to see five Fae enter his inn last night, so his vanishing whenever Lorcan appeared was certainly due to the glower the male had perfected.

Indeed, Lorcan took one look at Elide and Gavriel and left the dining room.

They'd barely spoken these weeks. Elide hadn't known what to even say. A member of this court. Her court. Forever.

He and Aelin certainly hadn't warmed toward each other. No, only Rowan and Gavriel really spoke to him. Fenrys, despite his promise to Aelin not to fight with Lorcan, ignored him most of the time. And Elide ... She'd made herself scarce often enough that Lorcan hadn't bothered to approach her.

Good. It was good. Even if she sometimes found herself opening her mouth to speak to him. Watching him as he listened to Aelin's lessons on the Wyrdmarks. Or while he trained with the queen, the rare moments when the two of them weren't at each other's throats.

Aelin had been returned to them. Was recovering as best she could.

Elide didn't taste her next bite of porridge. Gavriel, thankfully, said nothing. And Anneith didn't speak, either. Not a whisper of guidance. It was better that way. To listen to herself. Better that Lorcan kept his distance, too.

Whether the others knew what propelled her, they hadn't said a word. Aelin sheathed Goldryn and loosed a long breath. Deep down, her power grumbled. She flexed her fingers. Maeve's cold, pale face flashed before her eyes. Her magic went silent.

Fenrys sat in wolf form at the edge of the nearest field, staring out across the expanse.

Precisely where he'd been before dawn.

She let him hear her steps, his ears twitching. He shifted as she approached, and leaned against the half-rotted fence surrounding the field.

"Who'd you piss off to get the graveyard shift?" Aelin asked, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Fenrys snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Would you believe I volunteered for it?" She arched a brow. He shrugged, watching the field again, the mists still clinging to its farthest reaches. "I don't sleep well these days." He cut her a sidelong glance. "I don't suppose I'm the only one."

She picked at the blister on her right hand, hissing. "We could start a secret society-for people who don't sleep well."

"As long as Lorcan isn't invited, I'm in."

Aelin huffed a laugh. "Let it go."

His face turned stony. "I said I would."

"You clearly haven't."

"I'll let it go when you stop running yourself ragged at dawn."

"I'm not running myself ragged. Rowan is overseeing it."

"Rowan is the only reason you're not limping everywhere."

Truth. Aelin curled her aching hands into fists and slid them into her pockets. Fenrys said nothing didn't ask why she didn't warm her fingers. Or the air around them. He just turned to her and blinked three times. Are you all right?

A gull's cry pierced the gray world, and Aelin blinked back twice. No. It was as much as she'd admit. She blinked again, thrice now. Are you all right?

Two blinks from him, too. No,

They were not alright.

They might never be. If the others knew, if they saw past the swagger and temper, they didn't let on.

None of them commented that Fenrys hadn't once used his magic to leap between places. Not that there was anywhere to go in the middle of the sea. But even when they sparred, he didn't wield it. Perhaps it had died with Connall. Perhaps it had been a gift they had both shared, and touching it was unbearable.

She didn't dare peer inward, to the churning sea inside her. Couldn't.

Aelin and Fenrys stood by the field as the sun arced higher, burning off the mists.

Aelin shook her head. Another dream, or hallucination. "If she's on our heels with this army, I'm just ... trying to understand it. Her, I mean."

"You plan to kill her." The gruel in her stomach turned over, but Aelin shrugged. Even as she tasted ash on her tongue.

"Would you prefer to do it?"

"I'm not sure I'd survive it," he said through his teeth. "And you have more of a reason to claim it than I do."

"I'd say we have an equal claim."

His dark eyes roved over her face. "Connall was a better male than—than how you saw him that time. Than what he was in the end."

She gripped his hand and squeezed. "I know."

The last of the mists vanished. Fenrys asked quietly, "Do you want me to tell you about it?" He didn't mean his brother.

She shook her head. "I know enough." She surveyed her cold, blistered hands. "I know enough," she repeated.

[classyrbf]

SHE SAID IT'S HER FIRST TIME! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...older bf!nanami finds out he’s your first time and he intends to make it very special

INFO...older bf!nanami x virgin fem!reader, age gap (earlier 20s, early 30s), virginity loss, consent checks, praise, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy eating, penetration, slight blood, slight crying, creampie, nanami grows kinda feral, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

Having Nanami as an older boyfriend was such a joy. The maturity, thoughtfulness, communication, love, commitment, and patience you received from him was more than you could have ever asked for. You were always so open with him, telling him everything and just being the annoying girl friend you were. But, there is one thing that you’ve kept hidden for the last six months of your relationship.

Every time things got heated between you Nanami while making out or getting handsy, you always backed out last minute telling him that you “weren’t ready” and he always understood and respected your boundaries. Though, you are ready. If you were to lose your virginity to anyone you’d want it to be your sweet loving boyfriend. But voices in the back of your head start to make you overthink, wonder if he’ll even want you anymore if you confess to him.

It isn’t until you’re here on his bed, hands tangled in his hair while kiss him slowly, passionately. His hands are roaming all over your body, still careful to be respectful. You’re pushing into him, smiling in between kisses. “Have I ever told you how much of an amazing kisser you are?” He chuckles, peppering kisses along your jawline.

A blissful sigh escapes your lips before you answer, “no.” You shake your head, his lips traveling lower down to your neck. Your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, enjoying the moment. His tongue glides along the skin of your neck, gently sucking and kissing, earning little whimpers from you as a reward. His hand grabs at your leg, hooking in over his waist as he pushes his hips into you.

Your breathing grows shallow, heart beating frantically against your ribcage. You gulp, feeling things grow more intense with each passing second before you push Nanami away. “I’m sorry, Kento, I just—”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand you want to take your time with this kind of thing.” He gently grabs your hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. His brows furrowed as he studies your features, eyes wandering every where else but into his. “What’s wrong, hm? You know you can talk to me,” he says in the most smooth voice, one that makes you wanna spill every secret. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. “Sweetheart?” He draws out the pet name, he knows something is on your mind.

“Ken, I feel bad for keeping this from you for so long, but,” you sigh, fidgeting with the hem of your t-shirt, “I’m a…virgin.” You finally look in his eyes, clenching your jaw. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire, ears ringing loudly it almost drowns out your heart beat.

His lips part, eyes widening at your words. Deafening silence falls upon you like a tidal wave and you feel the embarrassment rush in. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything I…I’m just gonna go.” You quickly scramble to your feet, grabbing your sweater from off of his bedroom floor. Maybe those voices in your head were right. Why would a man like Kento want anything to do with an inexperienced girl like you, compared to a woman who would know how to please him, give him a what he wants.

Just as you were about to walk out his bedroom, you feel a tug at your arm pulling you back until you hit his broad chest. “Where are you going?” He asked, looking at you. “I never said to leave, sweetheart.” He walks you back over to the bed, taking your sweater from your hands and placing it on the back of his chair. You sit on the edge of the bed, anxiously waiting for the next words to leave his mouth. Eyes follow his every movement, watching the way he walks over to you and kneels down in front you, grabbing your hands in his. “Look at me.” And you do, eventually, meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

You find it hard to speak, to even get a peep out. Nerves are shot and it feels like your stomach is twisting in knots. “I just thought that—”

“That I’d be upset you’re a virgin?” He asked, putting it all out there. You nodded your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sweetheart,” he chuckles, flashing a smile at you, “you’re too cute for your own good.” He caresses your cheek. “No wonder you’ve been so nervous each time we’ve made out.” He licks his lips, taking a deep breath in before speaking again, “listen, we don’t have to rush into anything. You should’ve just told me, but I understand your feelings.”

You blink a couple of times, your heart rate finally drops, feeling more comfortable with the situation. It felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders, and even more importantly, you were glad Nanami took it so well. “But, I am ready.” You look away from him.

“What?” His brows furrowed, confusion written on his face.

“I’ve been ready, just been scared, nervous…I don’t know.” You shrug, your voice getting quieter with each word you say.

His hand comes up to your cheek, gently cupping it as he directs your gaze back towards him for the millionth time. “Are you asking me to be your first?” He asks in such a gentle tone, eyes carrying a look of adoration in them. Sheepishly, you nod.

“Always wanted it to be you, Ken. You’re so kind to me, and so patient,” you admit.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, “I’d love nothing more than to be your first.” He kisses the top of your hand, soft lip pressing against your skin as he stares into your eyes. “We’ll go at your pace, yeah?” He smirks.

Everything in you is telling you to pounce on this man and go at it like animals with how he was treating you. It only made him a hundred more times attractive than he already was. Your lips find his as you both fall back onto the bed, resuming the make out session from minutes ago, only this time it’ll actually lead somewhere. The kisses felt more feverish, more passionate, something that’d you been craving this entire time.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He asked, placing a kiss to your jaw. “I’ll take mine off too.”

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling his hands tug at the hem of your shirt. The fabric slipped over your head, your first instinct was to cover your chest, feeling completely vulnerable in this position. His hands carefully undid your pants, pulling them down along with your panties, discarding the items of clothing on the wood floor. You covered yourself up, shutting your legs and holding your chest.

As you watched him get undressed, your eyes landed upon the obvious tent in his shorts, leaving you turned on. His body seemed liked it was carved from the gods, toned biceps, shredded six pack. He looked like he could just easily toss you around, put in whatever position he wanted. Not to mention, you could see how big he was through his boxers, your nerves starting to wrack up again as you began to wonder if it’d even fit. And once he pulled them down, your eyes widened and worry flooded your face.

Nanami let out a light laugh at the look on your face. “What’s the matter?” He asked, rubbing his hands over your thighs.

“Do you think it’ll fit? It’s just…really big, Ken.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander. He was thick, and slightly long, which is reasonable excuse for your worry.

“It might hurt a little, sweetheart, but that’s why I need to prepare you, yeah? Make it feel good for my sweet girl. Now, don’t hide yourself from me, okay? I wanna see all of you, praise all of you.” He leaned over, kissing your lips again, trailing down further with each one. His hands replaced yours, gently groping your tits, squeezing them in his hands. “Such soft and pretty tits.” He kissed each one. “Can I suck on them? I promise you it’ll feel good.”

Once he gets your approval, he wastes no time, his lips latching onto your hard nipple, hot tongue swirling around the bud. His eyes fluttered shut, a muffled moan escaping his lips. Your hands find themselves in his hair, little pants and whimpers leaving your lips at the foreign sensation. His other hand pulls at your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he gets lost in thought. He pulls his head up, hazy eyes staring back at you. “Doing okay, baby?” He asks.

“Yes, please keep going.” You bite down on your bottom lip, earning a smile from his as he moves over to your other nipple, tip of his tongue circling over the sensitive skin before taking it in his mouth, suckling on it. “Mmm, Ken,” you whimper, tugging at his hair.

“Feeling good?” He places kisses all over your tits, his touches so gentle. You buck your hips up towards him, grinding against him. “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re feeling needy, aren’t you, baby? Go on, you can tell me.” The flat of his tongue lays against your nipple again, slowly licking, teasing you.

You bring your hand up to your face, covering it, too embarrassed to look at him, to let him hear you. But with each flick of his tongue more whimpers spill out of you, overflowing. His warm lips press kisses to your sternum, traveling down towards your stomach, getting lower and lower until you jolt up. “What…what are you doing?” You ask, dumbly. It was clear what his intentions were with his mouth just inches away from your cunt.

“Just sit back and relax.” He caresses your side. “Open up for me, wanna get a taste,” he murmurs. He gently pushes your thighs open, scooting lower on the bed. His mouth slightly parts, eyes gravitating towards your wet cunt. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” he chuckles, looking up at you. He rests his head against your thighs, lips kissing your skin, worshipping you, savoring you. He plans to tease you as much as possible, he wants you ready.

You body twitches when you feel his fingers ghost over your throbbing cunt, light touches making you yearn for something you’ve never even had before. He kisses down your thighs and towards your pussy, pausing when he finally reaches. He looks up at you for approval and when you scoot your hips closer towards him with the cutest whimper, he dips his head down between your legs and presses the slowest kisses on your clit. The way you gasp makes him smirk, he wonders how you’ll sound when he uses his tongue.

Finally, you feel the flat of his hot tongue dip between your soaked folds, pushing its way up your slit and finding your clit. You sit up on your elbows, brows furrowing in pleasure as Nanami wraps your his arms around your thighs, holding your hips in place. He moans against you, pulling you closer towards him as he starves for more of your taste.

He flicks his tongue across your clit, his chin coated in your juices before he moves his tongue lower, tongue fucking you. You bite down on your plump lower lip, quietly moaning while your eyes watch his every movement, like you were studying him. His tongue slithers back to your clit, circling it before he gently sucks on it. “Hah, fuck,” you gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his blonde locks of hair.

He lifts his head, licking his lips to not waste any drop of you. “Hey, pretty girl, can we try something?” His voice is gentle, a sense of security in it. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The pad of his thumb rubs your clit in circles, his other hand caresses your thigh. “Wanna try fingering you while I eat this pretty pussy, get you ready for me,” he explains.

You gulp, nervously looking down at his hands. “Will it hurt as much?” You ask.

“Might hurt a little, but it’ll help. I’ll make you feel good, baby. I never wanna hurt you.” He sits up, moving closer towards you.

You nod slowly, “okay,” you meekly say. Nanami, wraps his arms around your waist, hoisting your leg around him as you both lay on your sides.

“You ready?” He asks, kissing your cheek, his fingers rubbing your slick over your entrance and back over your clit, trying to get you prepared. “Just gonna do one finger for now until you want more,” he whispers into your ear. Slowly, he slides his thick digit into your entrance and you immediately let out a pained sigh. He removes his finger, pressing another kiss to you cheek. “Take your time, baby. You’re okay. Hold on to me if it gets too much.” He continues rubbing your clit in slow circles until you give him the nod of approval to try again.

He pushes his finger past your folds, feeling your walls clench around him as he goes inch by inch. “Mmm.” Your eyes screw shut as you cling onto his broad shoulders, feeling the sting of the stretch. He finally gets it all the way through and you’re panting, clawing at his skin.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he reassures. “Hey, look at me,” he grabs your face in his direction, “it’s okay.” He kisses your lips as you whimper against his. “I’m gonna start moving my hand now.” You hold onto him tighter, the burn making you wince as he pulls his hand back and pushes his finger back in, slightly gaining in speed.

You can’t seem to look away from him, melting into his touch as the pain slowly turned to pleasure, feeling your body accept him just like you wanted this entire time. He presses his forehead against yours, bodies pressed up against one another as you fight back the urge to kiss him until you’re breathless. Your hips rock into his hand, following his movements. “Want more,” you whimper, nodding at him.

“Want more, pretty? Yeah?” He pecks your lips, carefully sliding his ring finger into your entrance. You whine at the stretch, taking in a deep breath when you feel his fingers curl up, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. Your cunt squelches around his fingers, sucking them in. “You’re doing such a good job,” he whispers, working fingers faster until you’re a moaning mess.

Wet kisses make their way down your neck, moving lower down to your chest as he repositions himself at the end up of the bed, fingers still curling inside you. He pushes one of your legs back, eyes intently watching the way your pussy takes his fingers so well. Without warning, the flat of his tongue presses down your swollen clit. “Oh fuck!” You gasp, gripping at the sheets below you. Your body shivers with pleasure, the sensation of his tongue and fingers sending you to cloud nine.

Your head falls back on the pillow, eyes rolling back, legs threatening to close around his head. He slurps your pussy, tongue working its way through your folds to get every last drop. He’s moaning at your taste, breathing heavily through his nose. His hand pushes your leg back farther, nearly up to your chest, as he works hard to drive that orgasm out of you. “Ah! Oh my gosh!” You cry out, clutching at his hair, pushing his head down when he sucks on your sensitive clit once more. “Ken, baby, I think—fuck!” You squeal, rocking your hips on his face. Your legs close around his head as your orgasm arrives, body quivering, and every touch is heightened. That doesn’t stop Nanami, low eyes watching how prettily your back arches off the bed, your walls squeezing his fingers. “Hah! Ah! Yes!” You moan.

Nanami finally lifts his head, chest heaving up and down as he looks at you with the most love in his eyes. “Fuck, baby, you did so good. Come here.” He rushes to plant his lips on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His dick is throbbing, oozing pre from the tip just from watching you cum. “You alright?” He asks, petting your cheek.

“I’m okay.” You nod. “Thank you.” The sweetest smile spreads across your face, one that makes his chest fill with warmth. “But, I think I’m finally ready.” You look down towards where you two meet, only inches away from one another.

“You sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I want you to be comfortable,” he says softly.

“I promise I am. Just…go slow,” anxiousness riddled your tone.

“Of course. Let me know at any time if you wanna stop.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. The nerves build in your chest, and your stomach fills with butterflies. He repositions his hips, rubbing his length through your folds, smearing his precum. He lightly groans, slowly moving up and down, nudging your clit with each thrust. Nanami notices you watching, he can see you’re still nervous. “Baby, look at me, okay. It’s gonna be fine.” He gently grabs your face, staring into your eyes before his fat tip pushes its way through your folds. Your eyebrows raise in surprise before furrowing. He goes as slow as possible before removing himself, letting you take a breather.

You spread your legs further before another attempt, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pushes into you again, inch by inch you feel the stretch, the stinging sensation making you grit your teeth. “Ah!” You bury your face in his neck, when you feel his hips finally meet with yours.

Tears fall down your cheeks, and he’s quick to kiss them away. “I know it hurts, sweetheart. Let’s stay like this for a minute.” He wipes your tears, massaging your thighs as you try to accustom to his size. “Gonna start moving now.” He pulls his hips back, his length coated in a mix of your juices and slight blood. “Oh, your bleeding baby.” He looks at you with the most empathetic expression.

“Mmmph, sorry, I’m sorry.” A wave of embarrassment washes over you as it came to mind that it was most likely on his sheets.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s completely normal.” He kisses your lips as he pushes his hips against your again, the head of his cock grazing over a sweet spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?Hah, my sweet, sweet girl—fuck,” he breathily chuckles. And now he’s moving faster, wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. “So fucking tight,” he grunts.

You feel so full of him, like he was made for you. His dick dragging along your walls, his hands holding you close, wrapping around you as he whispers praises in your ear in the most sweetest voice. Your eyes roll back, nails leaving marks on his skin, your toes pointed. He’s fucking you into the mattress, but being oh so gentle about it. “It feels so good,” you mewl as he fucks you deep, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust.

“This pussy was made for me baby—oh shit—taking me so fucking well. You feel so fucking good,” he moans. He presses into you, each thrust sending your mind spiraling as shivers run down your spine, your body covered in sweat. Nanami squeezes you tightly, kissing your neck, and nibbling at the skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” It feels like your breath is being sucked out of you, your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. “Gonna cum!” You cry out. “Hah—yes, yes!” He keeps the same rhythm, tip of his dick kissing your cervix before your shaking under him.

He holds you tightly, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as you cum around his dick. Your hands cup his face, searching his eyes. “That’s my girl, let it all out,” he says. He can feel you clenching down on him, the feeling making his dick throb harder. “Always be my good girl, right baby?” He asks. And all you can do is nod, when he starts fucking you faster, almost like he’s grown feral. “It’s good that you know because I’m about to fuck you like you aren’t.” He pushes your knees to your chest, lifting your hips slightly so that he reaches the deepest parts of you. “Nngh, fuck!” He grunts.

“Ken! Oh fuck, fuck!” You squeeze your eyes shut, the bed rocking and creaking with each other his hard thrusts. A hand clasps over your mouth in a weak attempt to muffle your screams of pleasure.

“Pussy feels so good, sweetheart. Can’t get enough—fuck—I’m sorry,” he heavily pants. Strands of blonde hair cling to his forehead, eyes fixated on watching his dick disappears in and out of you, your pussy creaming around him, leaving a white ring around the base. He can feel you clenching down on him again, your nails leaving crescent marks in his forearms as you’re cumming for a third time tonight, barely able to form words. “Atta girl. Look so pretty cumming on my cock,” he smirks.

Your back arches into him, legs quivering as he thrusts grow sloppier and sloppier. “Nnngh, shit,” he moans. “Gonna make me cum—ah!” His brows furrow as he fucks you harder, a primal feeling rises in him as he thinks of cumming inside of you for the first time ever. “Baby,” he says with desperation, “baby, let me cum inside you.” A rosy red spreads across his cheeks as he stares into your eyes.

Your arms reach out to him, dragging him down for kiss, legs locking around his waist as you push him closer to you. Nanami groans into the kiss and you swallow every last one as his seed fills you up, coating your walls. He slowly fucks you, making sure to get every last drop of his cum in you before pulling out.

“Oh my god, sweetheart,” he chuckles, a glint in his eyes. You laugh with him before he rolls both of you over, you now on top of him. He caresses your cheek and you melt into his hand, a blissful sigh leaving your lips. “You did absolutely amazing.” He smiles. “You doing okay, though?” He wonders, fingertips tracing patters on the small of your back.

“Yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes shut, “I’m doing great actually.” You smile. You rest your head on his chest. “Thank you, Ken.”

“No, thank you. I’m glad that you trusted me to be your first, honestly. It means a lot to me.” He kisses the crown of your head. “You’ll always be my girl.” He continues tracing your skin.

“Really?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. “Promise me?” You pout, batting your lashes.

“I promise.” A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his thumb rubbing over your bottom lips before you press a kiss to it. He chuckles at the small gesture. “Let’s get in the shower, together, yeah? Maybe order some food? You deserve it.”

[princessbrunette]

hi princess! I was just thinking about shy!reader ending rafe nudes for the first time 🫣 can u pls write abt it

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

he wasn’t expecting it. he thought he’d have to work harder for you to open up like that.

it was toppers turn to swing, the group of them playing golf at the country club. rafe scowls in the sun, staring across the hills in thought knowing his younger friend often took ages to line up and get a good swing in. just as he was wondering what you would be up to right about now, lifting his wrist to check the time — his phone dings with a text and he reaches into his pocket, eyes lighting up in intrigue upon seeing it was your name on the screen, with one attachment.

he clicks on the picture and freezes.

it’s a selfie, you sat infront of the mirror in your bedroom. however, you look askew — clearly hot and flustered with your dress disheveled, one sleeve hanging off your shoulder nearly exposing your tit and the hem pulled up around your waist. you’ve got no panties on, legs open with your knees pointing up and feet flat to the floor and in the image you’re spreading your sloppy, wet cunt with your fingers, a mess of your own arousal coating you. the image is paired with a simple caption — ‘please come to my house i miss u :(’

now you were shy, like — hardcore shy. shit, it took you a while to even let rafe touch on you and fuck you without getting overwhelmed and wanting to cry everytime he looked at you. he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“holy shit. hooooly shit.” he drawls, beginning to pace a little, staring at the image and zooming in. topper gets distracted, turning his head.

“whats up?” he asks as rafe types a quick ‘Give me 15 mins baby’ into his keyboard. rafe glances up, lips parted at his two friends, staring at him for answers.

��shit uh, nah… nah don’t worry.”

he pockets his phone, looking to start packing up his stuff.

“nah c’mon man, what happened?” kelce comes towards him with a friendly grin and rafe lightly shoves him back by the shoulder, walking past to the golf buggy.

“i said don’t worry, alright? i uh, gotta roll though. see you guys around.” rafe punctuates his sentence with a scoffed chuckle of disbelief, swinging his golf bag over his shoulder.

“did… did something happen?” topper shakes his head.

“look, i gotta go see my girl alright, said she needs me. sending me pictures of her pussy all spread out n’shit. respectfully, m’not spending another minute with you suckers.” rafe holds up his hands, biting the bait and telling them anyway. he couldn’t help himself, at the end of the day; a boy.

kelce laughs in shock and toppers eyebrows raise, eyes widening as he says your name in questioning confirmation.

“yeah, who the fuck else?” rafe collects his last club from the buggy, slotting it into the bag.

“what— she’s like, the sweetest girl i know. super shy though, am i wrong?” topper seems in just as much as disbelief as rafe, who shrugs, beginning to walk backwards away from his friends.

“so i thought.” rafe calls out with a smirk, arms wide by his side before he spins around to make his way swiftly to your house to show him how much he appreciated your little text message gift.

⊹ ~ ⊹ ~ ݁. 🎀 ݁.⊹୨🐰୧ ⊹ . ݁🎀 . ݁~ ⊹ ~ ⊹

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ‘punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[synqiri]

YOU HAVE A LOVER?!

or, how the traveller and paimon find out about his relationship with you.

PAIRING: wanderer x gn!reader

WARNINGS: chocolate

WORDCOUNT: 1.1K || CONTENT: you're kinda a menace, slight crack, fluff, relationship reveal

NOTES: tell me why he's so fun to tease pls

“hey, isn’t that hat guy?” paimon says, pointing further down the street. 

it is indeed. he stands outside lambad’s tavern, near the benches, and with him is a group of akademiya scholars. 

her eyes sparkle with curiosity at the sight. “traveller, let’s go say hi!”

snatches of conversation is all the pair hear at first. 

“just spit it out,” wanderer says, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised. “i haven’t got all day to listen to your babbling.”

the girl right in front of him has a small gift-wrapped box clutched tight in her hands, her three friends behind her all murmuring encouragements. paimon glances at aether, eyes wide. are you seeing what i’m seeing?

the traveller nods. he lingers by the waypoint, motioning for paimon to do the same. they shouldn’t interrupt just yet.

“uhm — i really like you!” the girl rushes out nervously, presenting the gift out to the wanderer hastily. “please accept this!”

aether hears his companion gasp.

wanderer says nothing, picking the little box up for inspection. he gives it a soft shake. “what’s in this?”

“chocolate! i didn’t know which you liked, but — but when we were at the store, someone overheard us talking and recommended a brand… i think their name was [name]...? everyone knows you’re friends, so…”

at that, the wanderer lets out a disbelieving scoff, expression an odd mix of amused and incredulous. aether is curious himself. he wonders what kind of person wanderer would consider a friend.

“not bad,” wanderer tells the girl, pocketing the box as he does, “i guess you have no one but that fool to thank.”

her group of friends cheer, and the girl can’t help but laugh too. with their goal achieved, they scuttle away, chattering. at this, paimon finally rushes up to the guy, aether following suit. she’s stumbling over all her words, completely and utterly flabbergasted. 

“you — i — what was that?!” she exclaims. “since when do you get love confessions?”

aether can’t tell if that was the right or wrong thing to say. wanderer smirks, almost puffing up with pride. “what, like it’s hard?”

paimon stomps her feet. “but you’re —! ugh, whatever. paimon feels bad for all the hearts you break.”

“why should i have to care about that? they should be prepared to face rejection if they are prepared to bare their heart out for all to see.” wanderer shrugs, tone lofty. 

“it’s not as if you can relate,” she quips. “what are you doing here, anyway?”

at this, he huffs, rolling his eyes. “do you think i want to be here, standing around like a buffoon? and yet here i am, waiting for someone with zero respect for my time.” 

aether doesn’t point out the fact that if wanderer really hadn’t wanted to wait, he would have left ages ago. paimon tilts her head curiously. “who are you waiting for? is it that [name] person?”

wanderer stiffens at that. his eyes narrow. “where did you learn that name?”

“we overheard that girl say it just now. why? Is it someone important?”

“of course i’m important!” 

paimon screams. wanderer sighs. aether turns behind to look at the source of the voice.

the traveller assumes you’re [name], and is proven right when you introduce yourself cheerily. shaking both his and paimon’s hands, you say, “it’s so nice to meet the people who knocked sense into this guy over here.”

glaring, wanderer grumbles, almost petulantly. he threatens, “keep up with that and i won’t give you your chocolate.”

“nononono, i was only joking, darling, forgive me?” 

your demeanour flips in an instant, and you whirl around to face him with a puppy-eyed pout. faintly, a baffled paimon echoes a soft, darling? 

wanderer sighs, producing the gift out for you, and you accept it eagerly. 

“you got chocolates for me?” you say, playfully swooning. unwrapping the box, you pop a piece into your mouth. “my favourite kind too! you're the best.”

the irony is neither lost on aether. paimon gleefully accepts a piece from you when you offer. 

“you should have one too,” you tell wanderer, who has been looking at you with an odd look aether has yet to decipher. holding out a chocolate in your fingers, you prompt, “say ‘ah’.”

begrudgingly, he opens up. still, he doesn't fail to make a fuss off it, proclaiming about how sweets were beneath him, and how he preferred the bitterness of coffee. you wave it all off with an eyeroll, and aether is struck with the similarity it had to wanderer's own.

“how long have you been friends?” paimon asks for him. “you two seem really close.”

you burst into laughter, and wanderer glances away. your eyes glitter with amusement. “friends? did he tell you that? ‘cuz personally, i don't know any friends who go on dates —”

“a ‘date’ that you are late to,” wanderer cuts in.

you erupt into another fit of giggles at that. “sorry, sorry. i've been here the whole time, actually — but i was hiding over there when that group of girls approached you.”

wanderer could not look any more unimpressed. though just as he's about to retort, paimon finally stops short-circuiting. 

“YOU'RE DATING?!”

“announce it to the entire world, why don't you?” wanderer snarks, though there is a noticeable flush on the tips of his ears, creeping onto his cheeks. it is then aether realises the expression he hadn't deciphered had been fondness.

you only grin, looping an arm around his. then, before anyone can react, you smack the fattest kiss on his cheek. “that's right! you don't know just how much effort it took wooing this guy.”

“i can imagine…” paimon says, dumbstruck.

wanderer shoots them the most murderous of glares, hissing, “tell a soul about this, and i swear neither of you will live to see the new dawn.”

“he's shy,” you add with a conspiratorial whisper. “but really, we'd prefer if word doesn't get out.”

“our lips are sealed,” paimon vows solemnly.

then, aether taps her on the shoulder, jerking his head in the direction of the adventurer's guild post. thankfully, she takes the hint.

“actually we're really really busy so we'll leave the two of you to it now,” paimon says quickly. “enjoy your date!”

at that, you bid the both of them farewell happily after telling them to visit sometime, and aether leaves with a much different impression he had of wanderer.

though, when he steals a glance back, he sees the both of you entering the tavern, wanderer's grip on your hand tight. and while he cannot see the look on your faces, he can make out the softness in his stance, and the joy in yours.

aether can't help but feel happy for him. it seems that the ‘wanderer’ had finally found a ‘home’.

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t now. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[mywritersmind]

HIDE YOUR NAME NOT YOUR TEAM - LN4

summary : In which a pretty red head catches Lando’s eye one night in mexico, a rude remark and laughable flirting stays on both of their minds. The last thing Lando expects is to see her again in the paddock, while he’s determined to figure her out, she’s determined to hide her name and why she constantly is spotted in orange.

listen up : panic attack, sexual comments, comedy!! lando norris x bosses!daughter.

word count : 5404

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I don’t usually go to these things. But Alexandra convinced me when she said I could borrow her dyson.

“I take it back.” I say as I get my drink, we’re sat at the bar, Charles already gone to find some drivers, “Let’s go back to the hotel! Girls night!” I beg her but she just shakes her head.

“You look too hot for that.” I sigh, I do look hot tonight. I’m in a black mini dress, sheer tights, and knee high boots that are the same shade of burgundy red as my hair.

Just as she says that, Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, comes up to us, “Y/n! You never come out with us!” She hugs me and I smile. I never do but I do like hanging with my girls.

“I had to drag her here!” Alex sips her drink as Rebecca laughs. We’re in Mexico for the grand prix, something I also rarely find myself at.

“Don’t make that face! You deserve a day off.” I sigh, knowing they’re right.

“Alright.” I down the rest of my drink, coughing and turning to the bartender, “Three shots please! Surprise us!”

The girls squeal and as soon as I sit back down, I know it’s gonna be a good night.

I’m multiple drinks in, dancing with my friends, when Carlos and Charles sweep my friends away like it’s nothing.

I scoff, going to walk off the dance floor before a man stops me, “Wanna dance?” I almost laugh when I see who it is. I can tell he sees me thinking about it, “I promise I don’t bite.”

⋆༺

LANDO NORRIS

I noticed her when she was dancing with some guy who was out of his mind wasted. I saw her hair first, a dark cherry red with messy waves.

I don’t know if she’s here with friends but I do know that I want to know more.

She’s staring at me like i’ve just asked her to do a backflip, “Uh… no.” She shakes her head and walks straight past me.

What the fuck?

I haven’t had a girl reject me in a long time, but it’s not unheard of. Still, something about her is telling me to not give up.

“Wait! I’ll buy you a drink!” I hurry after her, she’s flipping her hair over her shoulder and eyeing me, “Please?”

“Please?” She laughs, “You can’t find any other girl besides me?” She hops up onto a bar stool and I lean against the counter, staying close.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m Lando.”

“Yeah, I know.” This surprises me.

“Oh! Well then you know I'm not a creep, so you’ll let me buy you a drink?” She crosses her arms, she seems to be assessing me.

“Fine.” I get her a dirty martini and water for myself. “Thank you.”

“I’ll always be down to buy a pretty girl a drink.” I smile as she sips her drink, “I never caught your name-”

“Mhm…” She looks around the club, obviously not interested in what I have to say.

“Okay, Red.” She doesn’t even flinch at the nickname, “Why are you in Mexico?”

She hums, “Family.” she lets out a long breath.

I frown at her lack of interest, “That’s fun. I’m racing here this weekend.” She doesn’t respond, “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I promise I'm not like whatever shit magazine you read.”

She looks at me after that and I immediately know I fucked up. Except instead of throwing her drink on me, she just laughs, “God, you’re an asshole.” And with that, she walks away.

⋆༺

YOU

Lando Norris hitting on me was not something I expected from that night.

But it immediately became worse once I remembered why I was in Mexico.

“Sweetheart!” My dad hugs me tight. Zak Brown is a lot of things but a shit dad isn’t one of them. He’s in all orange, contrasting my white dress. I smile as he pulls back, “I’m so happy you’re here!”

I have gone to four grand prix’s in my life. It seems a bit odd for someone who’s father is there almost every weekend, but we had a deal. I was a sort of trouble child, more in my teens when I wanted more freedom. I took some years off of school but I realized what I was wasting and got right back into college.

My dad said I couldn’t come to a grand prix until I finished school. I was annoyed at first, who wouldn’t want to spend their weekends partying with rich people and flying on private jets? But I sort of fell in love with my studies in fashion and had no time anyway.

But I recently graduated and am back in my papaya fathers reach.

“How are you doing? Excited to be back?” I nod as I walk up the paddock with him.

“Very! I’ve missed everything, especially my friends.” He smiles and I’m happy I can make him do that in public.

“I’m so proud. Oh!” I see my nightmare in neon and freeze, “Come meet one of our drivers, he’s a bit like you, I think.” My dad looks back at my frozen position and frowns.

“I forgot I have to grab food with Lily! New friend duties, right! Remember how happy you are that i’m making friends!? Bye!” I turn around and run.

I end up meeting up with Lily because as soon as I heard myself say it, I suddenly really wanted to see her. Lily isn’t new to the paddock, but I’ve only met her a couple times. We follow each other on instagram and have DM’d multiple times.

After our taco and gossip session, practice started and I know I should be watching, but I want to explore more. So instead, I walk around the Paddock alone.

I seriously missed this environment. One of my favorite memories from when I was a kid was my dad walking me around the paddock. I love the hustle and bustle of the paparazzi, fans, and drivers.

I also love the quiet in the paddock while the cars are on track. I make it back inside, finally finding a bathroom and after fixing my hair and makeup, I wander more halls.

I don’t want to admit I'm lost, but I definitely am. I’m about to call Lily and Rebecca but realize I am a strong independent woman! That and I'm a tad embarrassed.

I turn yet another corner and see the worst person for this situation. I realize he hasn’t seen me yet but when I go to turn he eyes me, “Red?” He looks genuinely shocked and I'm even more shocked that he remembers me!

I laugh awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He’s in his race suit, sweaty, and way too good looking with it unzipped. He runs his hand through his curls, has he always been this attractive?

Sorry! Dickhead. I don’t like this man. He’s an asshole.

“What the fuck?” Is all he can say.

“Hey!” I smile, “Thanks for buying me that drink the other night…” When I left him at the bar, I did not think about the whole MY FATHER IS HIS BOSS thing.

“What are you doing here?” I hide my paddock pass behind my back, “Seriously. You’re not some stalker are you?”

I roll my eyes, “No but I am lost.” I can’t ask him to point me to the Mclaren garage because then he’ll ask why so I go for the next best thing, “I’m looking for the ferrari garage!” I need to text Alex right now.

“I’m still confused- you said you were in town for family.” Fuck my life.

“Yeah! Well… Alex is like family to me! And she invited me. Alex as in-“

“Charles’ girlfriend. Yeah I know.” He moves his water bottle from one hand to the other, stepping closer. “But, why would I help you if you think I'm an asshole?”

Okay. Good point.

“Because you think I'm pretty?” I smile and I can tell he’s biting back a laugh. “And because you were being pretty cocky!”

He nods, “Fair enough. Come with me.” I didn’t expect him to give in so easily.

“Hey, why were you in here anyways?” He shrugs and keeps walking for a bit before answering.

“Needed a breather.”

I nod, walking with him in silence, he opens the door for me and the sun hits up straight on. “So… how's the whole driving thing going?”

He glances at me, “It's alright. Quali tomorrow.”

“Good luck. Although I kinda hope you don’t get first.” He raises a brow. “I’m a big Piastri fan.”

He looks genuinely hurt, “I didn’t even think you watched.”

I frown, “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, I'm here.”

“Yeah but you… nevermind.”

I stop, turning to him, “You have to tell me now!”

He grins, looking away and continuing to walk, “You just didn’t have a reaction when I hit on you.” I scoff, “I know, I know! Dickish.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Honestly… fair enough. If I looked like you with the whole famous rich thing. I’d be pulling left and right.”

He eyes me, “So you think i’m attractive.” My face drops and I look ahead, “Hey it’s okay we already know I think you’re hot!” God if my dad ever heard this…

“Just shut up.” He does.

Until he doesn’t, “You really a big Oscar fan?”

I’m happy that I got under his skin with that one, “What if I said I liked Verstappen more?”

“I’d leave your lost ass right here.” Lando says it so serious that all I can do is laugh. He looks proud after I look at him again. “Seriously though.”

“Ferrari girl through and through.” He rolls those gorgeous green eyes of his, “McLaren might be second best though. Plus that Colapinto kid…”

He rolls his eyes, “You can’t like Franco more than me.”

“What, you jealous?” He points to turn and when we do, I see the garages in view.

“Gonna give me your name yet? Or am I sticking to Red?”

I pull his same move and avoid the question, “Thanks for showing me back.”

“Is it bad I like it when you’re mean to me?” I groan and walk away, “Bye, Red!”

“Later, Norris.”

⋆༺

“He doesn’t know who you are!?” Lily and Alexandra scream at the same time, we’re sitting in my hotel room when I called an emergency girls meeting. Except Rebecca is with Carlos to celebrate a little after his pole.

I cover my face with my hands, “But why does it matter!?”

“He’s obviously is hot for you.” Alex shrugs as Lily laughs, rolling onto her back.

“Babe, No wonder he’s so interested in you! I mean- besides the fact that you’re hilarious and drop dead gorgeous- he definitely is intrigued.”

I shake my head, “More like plotting to get me back for calling him an asshole.”

“Wait! You called him an asshole!?” Lily laughs even harder, “I love you!”

“Genuine question though… why don’t you go for it?” I stare at Alex as if she has two heads.

“Go for it!? Lando Norris?” She nods, “No way! Besides the fact that my dad is his boss, he’s way too cocky, and he doesn’t even know my name, I still wouldn’t go for him.”

“That’s kinda part of the appeal.” Alex shrugs, “What!? He knows nothing about you but thinks your hot! Seems like enough to me.”

We end up crying laughing, the conversation straying from Lando and to all the on track drama.

⋆༺

I’ve been avoiding the McLaren garage like the plague. I was there this morning but stayed on Oscar’s side. After meeting him, falling in love with him (platonically of course), and seeing that Lando was completely locked into Qualifying, I took my first breath of calmness.

The boys went out and I popped over to talk to Pato. Quali was over way quicker than I expected, After Oscar’s P17 a weird energy was in the garage and as soon as I saw Lando’s car, I was out of there.

What game am I even playing? Maybe it’s a little hot that he doesn’t know who I am… I don’t know why. Plenty of people have bugged me because of who my dad is, but Lando doesn’t need extra grand prix tickets or me to spot him money.

I find myself in a large room, it’s filled with chairs and a couch facing them. I grin immediately, how the hell is this just open?

I obviously am going to take my chance and pretend to be a talented man! The couch is not as comfortable as I expected and I almost fucking jump off of it when someone walks in.

He's breathing heavily and I recognize something’s wrong immediately. He’s pulling off the velcro of his race suit, unzipping it and pacing. “Lando.”

His head shoots up immediately, just staring at me, “Fuck Red, why are you everywhere?” His breath is labored and shaky.

I stand slowly as he slides down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning his head back. I’m confused because he seemed fine twenty minutes ago. P3 was not bad especially for where they are right now.

I start to say something but he just shakes his head, “I can’t.” He points to his throat and I realize he can’t breathe.

“I like your hair.” I say quickly, he looks so shocked when he looks up at me, “You look really good with it.” He keeps breathing heavily.

“Huh?”

“Although, you should ditch that fuck ass hat.” He tries to laugh but he’s still struggling. I slowly sit in front of him, “Seriously, who told you to wear that?”

“I- I have to.”

I roll my eyes but my hands are shaking. I’m not a stranger to a panic attack and seeing it happen to someone in front of me is a little scary, “Free will? I mean we all know you have it with the amount of times you whip out your middle finger.”

He laughs again, breathy, but his breathing seems to be getting slower.

“You definitely have free will.” he chokes out, “Saw you- today. Flirting with Lewis.” He got me there.

“Okay! Have you seen him? Who wouldn’t!?”

He shakes his head, “He’s way older.”

“Some people might find that hot.” He side eyes me, “Don’t worry I'm still into guys my own age.”

He’s smiling, nodding. We stay silent for a moment, his head resting against his knees as he catches his breath. He finally slides his legs out in front of him and I scoot next to him.

I tap my neck to ask for permission and he understands immediately, nodding. My hand slips to his neck, feeling his pulse.

“I used to have panic attacks a lot last year.” I explain as I feel his heart underneath my touch. He doesn’t say anything, just looking into my eyes. I swallow, “Your heart is going crazy.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah I don’t think that’s because of the panic attack.”

I give him a look, “Seriously? Even in distress you’re a flirt.”

He licks his lips, “You’re good at calming people.”

“All I did was talk, not that hard.” My hand is still on his neck. “Are you okay?”

He swallows, looking away just as I drop my hand back to my side, “Mhm. Thank you.” His hand goes to mine as if it’s nothing. I’m shaking. He rests his head against the wall, closing his eyes, and squeezing my hand. “I think I owe you another drink, Red.”

⋆༺

It’s not until after more press and the conference is over, when Lando finds me again.

“Let me buy you dinner.” I raise a brow, “Come on, as a thank you.”

“You already said thank you.” I sip my water as he frowns. He’s out of his race suit and into jeans and a McLaren shirt.

“Just let me take you out.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I reach up and press the back of my hand to his forehead, “Oh no! Seems like you have a case of aiming high.” He mocks me as I cross my arms.

“Red, If you’re that high, I'll take my McLaren rocket ship and meet you.” I laugh at his words.

“A bit late on the whole rocket ship thing.” He sighs.

“We’ll have fun. Please. Why not?” He goes through five emotions in two seconds.

“You’re sinister, evil, and orange.” My eyes stray who who’s also orange and walking quickly up to us, “Shit.” I don’t mean to say it out loud.

Lando turns around quickly, then back to me, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of Zak. I’ll introduce you-”

“No! I’m not! I gotta go!”

“Wha- Red!” I walk away so fast that I don’t see the man rounding the corner.

“Y/n?” Oscar looks at me confused, “Alright?”

“Hi!” I quickly move past him but he follows.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lando is trying to introduce me to Zak Brown.” I say simply as we turn another corner and Oscar frowns.

“Zak Brown as in your dad Zak Brown?” I look at him, nodding. Then he laughs, “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“Nope. Sort of a long story but I'm in too deep now.” I cross my arms and he starts laughing harder.

“I’m completely here for this- Just one question though… how the fuck does he not know who you are? You’ve been in the garage.”

“He’s blind and I'm a mastermind?” I shrug and of course, Lando finds us.

“Red! No!” He groans when he sees Oscar, “Osc, Don’t convert her into a you fan i’m trying so hard to get her to like me!” Oscar laughs harder, covering his mouth and looking at me.

“I don’t need to be converted! I’m already an Oscar fan!” Lando frowns as I shake my head.

“Don’t worry mate, everyone’s an Oscar fan.” He pats Lando on the shoulder before leaving. “See ya…” I can tell he’s about to say my name but he stops himself.

Lando narrows his eyes at me, “He knows your name?” I bite my lip and walk away. “Hey wait! Any thoughts about tonight?”

I glance back at him, “Don’t you have a race to be preparing for?”

He smirks, catching up to me, “Wanna know my pre race ritual?” I push him away from me, “I’ll give you a hint.” He winks and my stomach does a weird flip.

“You’re never gonna stop, are you?” I place my hands on my hips, looking up at the man.

“Tell me to, and I will.” I stay quiet, his eyes meeting mine and the corner of his lip quirking up. Someone calls his name but his eyes stay on me, smiling. He leans down and taps his knuckles against his hand, “Bye, Red.”

⋆༺

Although Lando has been running around my head, I still have other duties besides being flirted with. I’m at dinner with my dad, it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of us. And I will say, I missed it.

He’s busy and obviously distracted but i’m grateful for any time I get with him. We’re in the Paddock but everybody is gone except for a few engineers and workers.

“Tell me about your weekend! I haven’t seen you much in the garage.” He takes a bite out of his salad, looking down at his texts.

“I’ve been around.” I shrug, drinking my lemonade, “It’s good to be back. But I have been sneaking off with my friends a bit…”

He smiles, “I’m glad. Even if you aren’t cheering us on.” I laugh, “You will be watching from the garage tomorrow, though.”

I nod, “Yes yes, I know.”

We get into a conversation about the issues with my apartment and how he thinks I should move back home. I get the feeling that he’s worried about tomorrow and suddenly wonder if he’s like this every weekend.

My dad gets a call which ends our dinner early, “I gotta grab my bag then I'll head to the hotel.” I kiss him on the cheek and make my way to the garage.

There’s a few people hanging back, some looking at screens and someone laying on the floor, looking at Lando’s back wing.

I grab my purse, rummaging around in it to make sure my phone is there. “You sure you’re not stalking me, Red?” That damn voice makes me jump.

He's sitting on the floor next to his own car, his arms and black shirt dirty. Was he… fixing his car?

I raise a brow, “What are you doing?” He takes the rag next to him and wipes off his hands, standing up.

“What are you doing?”

I cross my arms, “Stealing information for ferrari.” He smirks, shaking his head and walking past me to grab his water.

“Instead of having dinner with me? You need to sort your priorities out.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “Do you work on your own car often?”

“I can’t do much but I do like to see how it looks.” He shrugs, leaning against the wall and glancing at the people working, “You seriously not gonna tell me who you know at McLaren? You obviously have an in.”

He waves to the people who are packing up and walking out. We are now alone.

I hum, knowing there’s no chance I'm about to tell him who my ‘in’ is. He laughs a bit, “Alright, stay mysterious. Wanna sit in it?” I almost think I didn’t hear him correctly.

“What?” He nods, standing and walking over to his car, “Come on, don’t tell me you’ve already driven one or something.”

I smile, shaking my head and walking towards him, “No. I used to kart but I’m actually shit at it.” He laughs, beckoning me closer. “Won’t you get in trouble for this?”

He brings his finger to his lips, shushing me as I stand in front of him, “Okay put your foot here,” he points, “And hold onto this.” He points again and I do as I'm told.

I hate to admit it, but I am quite clumsy. When I slip a bit, his hands go to catch me instantly. Thank you driver reaction practice.

He lifts me down into the seat, his hands regretfully leaving me. I look up at him, “For once, you look tall.” His smile drops, leaning over me.

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffs and starts pointing at things. I try to listen but his hand is right in front of my face and I’m genuinely surprised how much I don’t know.

“You’re so far down.” I hum, holding my hands out as if I'm driving, “My back already hurts.” He smiles and kneels next to me.

“You look good in here. Seems like a complete hazard though, even if the car isn’t on.” I tilt my head up to look at him. A curl is falling perfectly in his face. “I didn’t wear the hat as much today, what’d you think?”

I smile at the fact that he listened to my bullshit, “How are you, by the way?”

He nods, avoiding my eyes and messing around with something on the car, “Fine.”

“So the whole panic attack thing was just for fun?” He eyes me, biting his lip.

“Thank you again, It was kinda embarrassing but you made me feel better.” I chew the inside of my cheek, smiling softly at his expression. He looks tired, but a big step up from earlier.

I’ve seen Lando a million times. He’s on posters, all over my feed, in my dads photo dumps, billboards, ads… But none of that can compare to the real thing.

He shoots up so fast that I’m about to laugh and ask what he’s doing, but he starts talking to someone. “Lando!” It’s my dad. Alarm bells ring in my ears as my hand goes over my mouth. Okay. He can’t see me, I know that at least. “I thought you’d already left!”

Lando laughs awkwardly, I think he’s standing in front of the car now. “Uh! Wanted to make sure everything’s good with the car. Guess I lost track of time.”

I hear my dad laugh, rummaging around, “Get some sleep, kid.” I think we’re in the clear until I hear sneakers squeaking, “You haven’t seen a girl come in here, have you?”

My heart rate skyrockets as Lando clears his throat, “Nope. But I've been pretty distracted with the car.”

“Alright well… I have someone to introduce you to tomorrow! Get some rest and drink water!” The door shuts and I hear Lando sigh heavily.

I stand up and messily get out of the car, “I thought for sure I was dead!” Lando says, running a hand through his hair and shivering, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries! I don’t want to get you in trouble though so I should go…” He nods, looking a bit disappointed.

“Want me to walk you out?” I can’t help but smile softly at the soft way he says it.

“I know my way, Thanks though.” I grab my bag, thanking god my dad didn’t see it before, “Rest up.” I mock my dad as Lando chuckles.

“With you on my mind, that’ll be difficult.” I pretend like my cheeks aren’t on fire and open the door.

“Dream about me, then.”

⋆༺

The party environment of the Mexican Grand Prix is all I needed today. I’m in a white dress with marigolds embroidered at the bottom, a flower in my hand from one of the people who are painted.

I laugh with Rebecca and Alex as we walk through the paddock, their boyfriends already getting ready for the drivers parade.

I haven’t told them about last night. I mean, what is there to tell? I swipe my lipgloss on, checking my makeup in the reflection of Rebecca’s glasses.

“Is Carlos nervous for today?” I ask her as she smiles at his name.

“I think so, but I’m really hopeful for a good result.” we continue walking, “Hopefully I don’t jinx it.”

“Hey, Y/n.” Alex nudges me, “Someone just arrived.” She winks as we all turn to look at the Paddock entrance behind us.

Lando Norris.

He’s wearing a Quadrant crewneck and a big smile. He signs something for a tiny fan and hurry’s past the photographers.

He almost walks past us, but he does a double take. He looks happy, I’m glad. “Rebecca, Alex.” He doesn’t stop walking as he politely greets them. His eyes meet mine and his expression changes, “Hey, Red.”

I smile softly before he turns and practically runs away, “Yup! He’s in love.”

I swat Rebecca’s arm as she laughs, “Goodbye!”

“No!” Alex laughs, “Come get coffee!”

I shake my head, “I told Pato I would grab breakfast with him, I’ll see you later!”

I smile at the two of them as they wave and we split up, me going to McLaren and them to Ferrari.

⋆༺

Breakfast is good, we watch the drivers go around and laugh at George who is shivering like a leaf. I say goodbye to him as soon as the drivers parade ends.

I need to see my dad before the craziness begins. “Dad!” I smile as he sits on the pit wall.

“Sweetie!” He smiles and waves me over, letting me sit with him.

“Ready for today?” I ask as he looks over data.

He nods, “Definitely!” He crosses his fingers and I smile, looking over the data with him. He knows I have no clue what we’re looking at so he explains it to me.

I lean in to look at the tiny words when my dad gets distracted, “Oh!” I hear him say but i’m trying to decipher this code still, “I have someone for you to meet!” I’ve met a million different people this week so I smile and stick out my hand like usual, “Lando! This is my daughter Y/n.”

I stare at him. His smile drops for a second, then a look of panic washes over him before he takes a breath and shakes my hand.

“Nice to meet you.” I almost whisper it. He’s looking at me and I feel like I'm about to get swallowed whole.

His face contorts again, he looks like he’s finally cracked me, “Pleasure” My dad looks away and Lando takes that second to narrow his eyes, a smirk still on his face.

I drop his hand as my dad looks at us again, “I think Y/n has been avoiding the garage! I would have introduced you days ago!”

Lando’s jaw ticks, “Not a McLaren girl?”

I can’t help but smile, “Ferrari through and through.”

My dad shakes his head, “Don’t mind her odd preferences…” he’s about to say something else but gets pulled away by someone in orange.

Lando just looks at me, my cheeks hot as he examines me. I expect him to be mad, but he just smiles, “Y/n, huh?” I nod shyly, “It’s pretty. It fits you.”

“Okay! Lan you gotta go!” My dad claps a hand on his shoulder, dragging him away.

“Good luck!” I say quickly as he shoots me a devious look. I take a breath I didn’t know I was holding in, and watch him leave.

⋆༺

The race has me on the edge of my seat for all 71 laps. I accidentally gasp way too loud at Lando being pushed off track and maybe start clapping when it’s announced that Max got two penalties.

The whole time I have a feeling that Lando will be on that podium, but definitely not in third.

My manifestation comes true when Charles goes off track and Lando zooms by.

Ten laps to go and I don’t think I've taken a deep breath in twenty. But the moment Lando passes the finish line, the garage claps and I sigh in relief.

I hug my dad but I watch the podium ceremony from the side, smiling as the boys get sprayed with champagne while laughing.

I see Rebecca with tears in her eyes and when I look back to the podium, I see Lando looking at me. He's grinning, holding his bottle of champagne and pouring it into his mouth before winking at me.

If he’s still acting like this after he found out my dad is his boss, then I am unexplainably screwed. And I couldn’t be happier about it.

After the podium, I walk back to the garage, but Lando catches me first, pulling me into a hidden area. He’s soaked in champagne and grinning like an idiot, “Have fun out there?” I ask, crossing my arms.

He nods, “Think i’m cool yet?”

“A bit… maybe when I watch you win.” His smile grows, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Go out with me.” I laugh at his words, “For real this time! Y/n.” He says my name like a prayer and I never want it to stop.

“I guess I sort of owe you.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Y/n Brown. What a name… I knew you had an in!”

I shake my head, “I’m sorry. But it was fun messing with you.”

He sighs in defeat, “I feel much better that I know who you are. Although I almost passed out when the words ‘daughter’ left Zak’s mouth!” I laugh with him, champagne dripping down his curls still.

“You did really well today.”

He bites his lip, “Think of how much better I'll do knowing you’re screaming my name in the garage.” I swat his arm but he swerves and plants a kiss on my cheek.

My jaw drops as he pulls back, “I’ll pick you up tonight!” he starts walking away, backwards, “I’ll text you!”

“You don’t even have my number!” I yell after him but he just winks and blows me a kiss. Just as I turn back around and roll my eyes, I see my dad in front of me, arms crossed as my eyes go wide.

He sighs, looking like he already has a headache, “What the hell did I miss?”