#logan sargeant drabble

[5sospenguinqueen]

Land Of The Free | Logan Sargeant x Verstappen! Reader

Summary: Logan is just minding his business, quietly going about his life, secretly loving Max Verstappen's younger sister. Until the day he posts her in one of his Williams shirts.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, secret relationship, badly edited pics, one suggestive comment 

Requested: yes by anon

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yn_verstap just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe and others 

yn_verstap who decided skiing was a holiday, i want to have a word with their manager 

16,087 comments 

maxverstappen1 watching you get a face full of snow was the highlight of my week

→ yn_verstap watching you lose a race is the highlight of my week

→ maxverstappen1 you take that back or i’m telling mama

kellypiquet just means you can keep me company whilst P and max ski 

→ yn_verstap perfect. i’ll order the hot chocolates 

user1 okay but that’s such a pretty sunset 

→ user2 it’s never an y/n aesthetic post without a sunset 

logansargeant those gloves make you look like you have gauze paws 

→ yn_verstap okay callie torres. i regret showing you grey’s anatomy

→ user3 since when were they friends?

→ user4 she talks to him in the paddock all the time

user5 the matching outfits P and kelly have are so cute 

→ kellypiquet max was meant to as well but he refused so we gave y/n his beanie

→ yn_verstap just call me mr steal ya girl 

→ maxverstappen1 how do i disown you 

→ victoriaverstappen y/n and i have been trying to figure that out for years  

logansargeant just posted

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logansargeant ski you later 

18,558 comments 

user6 i swear all the drivers go skiing for winter break 

user7 omg logan is skiing at the same as y/n verstappen. is he with her?

→ user8 no. she’s with max, kelly and p

→ user9 charles is also skiing, that doesn’t automatically mean he’s with them. can we stop pushing this agenda

alex_albon why are you stood like a roblox character  liked by logansargeant 

user10 okay but that sunset is almost identical to y/n’s 

→ user11 wow it’s almost like the sun is the same 

williamsracing rest and refresh 

→ user12 gtfo 

daltonsargeant love how obvious your photographer’s shadow is. did you sit and go ‘take a pic of me?’

→ logansargeant living my instagram model dreams

→ user13 can anyone tell if that shadow is a woman or a man?

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yn_verstap just posted

liked by kellypiquet, francisca.cgomes and others 

yn_verstap goed om thuis te zijn (good to be home)

14,321 comments 

sophiekumpen you better come home whilst you’re here

→ yn_verstap i am literally in your driveway. unlock the door

→ user1 she has such younger sibling energy 

→ maxverstappen1 yeah, she gets away with everything 

→ yn_verstap shut up, golden child 

alexandrasaintmleux pretty pretty girl 

redbullracing excuse me. where’s our garage? can’t feel like home without us 

→ yn_verstap @/maxverstappen1 they’re stalking me again 

user2 max got the racing genes but y/n got the pretty genes liked by yn_verstap liked by logansargeant 

victoriaverstappen don’t forget you owe me lunch

→ yn_verstap geez i can’t catch a break round here

→ victoriaverstappen i’ll bring my boys

→ yn_verstap on my way ! 

→ user3 love how family oriented she is 

landonorris i thought you had hayfever

→ yn_verstap hayfever is for weak 💪

→ logansargeant you were literally crying. there was mascara running down your cheeks 

→ yn_verstap gotta commit to the aesthetic 

alex_albon you were with logan? he told me was busy 

→ yn_verstap he needed a tour guide. are you belgian? no 

logansargeant just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others 

logansargeant ready for one last push before the summer break 

23,600 comments 

user4 excuse me, is that a woman?

→ user5 excuse me, is that y/n verstappen? 

alex_albon um, mate, i don’t think you meant to post that last pic 

kylekirkwood oh brother, you are in danger 

daltonsargeant lo, you might need to recheck this post 

user6 y/n verstappen! 

user7 i knew this was happening but people tried to say i was crazy

williamsracing i think we need to have another chat about using social media 

charles_leclerc someone film max’s reaction to this for me, please

→ user8 ha, he’s so messy 

user9 i literally called this back on his skiing post and i was accused of pushing an agenda

user10 um, guys, i have a paddock pass and i’ve just heard a really loud yell come from the rbr garage?? i think this might be related

maxverstappen1 what are you doing with my sister!! 

(this post has been deleted)

yn_verstap just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

yn_verstap oops, looks like i forgot to tell people about my relationship with logan 

20,001 comments 

maxverstappen1 oh, so i’m just people now 

→ daltonsargeant not to rub it in but i knew 

→ user11 uh oh we’ve got the girls fighting in the comments 

→ logansargeant it’s only because you walked in on us, and i don’t have to worry about you driving me off the track 

user12 omg the fact that they’ve been together or friends for so long that he was with her during the short hair era and now it’s grown past her shoulders

user13 the matching pjs! 

user14 the matching disney shirts! 

→ user15 california?

→ logansargeant obviously. making an american out of her 

→ maxverstappen1 don’t you dare. she’s belgian-dutch! 

→ victoriaverstappen don’t piss off our mother before you’ve even met her

→ sophiekumpen met, loved, and approved. but she will never be american

→ yn_verstap and the home of the brraaavvvveeeee

→ maxverstappen1 disowned

oscarpiastri urgh you’re one of those couples. sickeningly, disgustingly in love, reminding us all that we’re alone and sad 

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[pucksandpower]

Do-Over

Logan Sargeant x Andretti!Reader

Summary: Logan drowns his sorrows after being dropped by Williams and passes out in 2024 … he wakes up slightly hungover and very much in 2022 (aka the time travel fix-it fic)

Logan’s hands are shaking.

He’s staring at the email on his phone, reading it over for the third time, hoping the words will somehow rearrange themselves into something different. But they don’t. The screen doesn’t lie, and neither does the cold, detached tone of James Vowles.

Logan, I’m sorry to inform you that Williams Racing has decided to terminate your contract effective immediately. Your performance this season has not met the team’s expectations, and the decision has been made to move forward without you for the remaining races. We believe this is in the best interest of the team as a whole. You’ll find the details of the termination and the necessary steps moving forward in the attached document.

His eyes blur, and he forces himself to blink, trying to hold it together. He knows what this means — his F1 career, the thing he’s worked for his entire life, is over. And it’s not ending with a bang, but with a fucking email.

A knock on the door snaps him back to the present. He looks up, swallowing hard as James walks in without waiting for permission, just like he always does.

“Logan,” James begins, his voice calm, almost clinical. “We need to talk.”

“I got the email,” Logan mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Is this really how it’s going to end?”

James’s face is unreadable. “We’ve discussed this at length. The crashes, the lack of progress … it’s just not working out. The engineers and mechanics are frustrated. We’ve been more than patient.”

Logan feels a wave of anger rising in his chest, but he pushes it down. He knows it won’t help. “So that’s it? Nine races left, and you’re just … dropping me?”

“It’s not an easy decision,” James replies, crossing his arms. “But we have to think about the team. We can’t afford any more setbacks.”

“Setbacks,” Logan echoes, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That’s all I am to you? A setback?”

James hesitates, his expression softening for just a moment. “Logan, you’re talented, but this sport is ruthless. You know that.”

“Don’t,” Logan snaps, his voice sharp. “Don’t try to soften the blow now. You could’ve at least told me in person, before sending the damn email.”

James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it seems cold, but this is the reality of Formula 1. You’ll land on your feet. You’ve got potential.”

“Potential,” Logan mutters under his breath. “That’s not going to get me back in a car, is it?”

There’s a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. Logan feels like the walls are closing in, the air in the room growing thicker with each passing second.

“I’m sorry,” James says finally, and for the first time, he sounds genuine. “I really am.”

“Yeah,” Logan replies, his voice hollow. “Me too.”

James lingers for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but there’s nothing that can fix this. Nothing that can make it right. Finally, he nods and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

Logan stands there, staring at the door, his mind racing. This can’t be happening. It feels like some kind of nightmare, one he can’t wake up from. But the harsh reality is setting in. It’s over. All those years, all that effort, and it’s over just like that.

He sinks down onto the couch, his head in his hands. His chest feels tight, like he can’t get a full breath. He needs to get out of here, but he has no idea where to go. Where do you go when your dreams have just been crushed?

His gaze falls on the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small kitchen counter. He bought it a few years ago, intending to open it after a win that never came. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Logan pushes himself up and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and a glass. He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and puts the glass back. What’s the point of pretending there’s any dignity left in this?

He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink, the burn of the alcohol offering a brief distraction from the pain gnawing at his insides. He leans against the counter, staring out the window at the darkening sky. How the hell did it come to this?

He’s replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity, every race where he could’ve done better. It’s a torturous cycle, one that he can’t escape. He takes another drink, then another, hoping to drown out the thoughts, to numb the ache in his chest.

But it doesn’t work. The alcohol just makes it worse, amplifying the guilt and the regret. He feels like a failure. No, he is a failure. The team didn’t even have the decency to let him finish the season. That’s how little they think of him.

The room starts to blur around the edges as the whiskey takes effect, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He’s spiraling, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. This is the only way he knows how to cope, the only way to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.

Hours pass, or maybe minutes — he’s lost track of time. The bottle is nearly empty now, and he’s slumped on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. What’s the point?

The apartment is silent except for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. It’s eerie, this quiet, and it makes the emptiness inside him feel even more profound.

Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The screen is cracked from a previous fall — one of many — but it still works. There are messages from friends, from his family, but he doesn’t open them. He knows what they’ll say. They’ll be supportive, encouraging, but it won’t change anything. They can’t fix this.

Instead, he opens his camera roll and scrolls through the photos. Pictures of him in the car, of the team, of moments that once meant everything to him. Now they’re just reminders of what he’s lost.

He stops on a photo of himself, taken just after he signed with Williams. He looks so damn happy, so full of hope. He barely recognizes that person now.

“What a joke,” he mutters to himself, his voice slurred. “What a fucking joke.”

He takes one last drink from the bottle, then tosses it aside, not caring as it rolls across the floor. He feels the darkness closing in, pulling him under, and for once, he doesn’t fight it. He lets it take him, lets it drown out the pain, the regret, the fear.

And as he finally drifts into unconsciousness, the last thought that crosses his mind is that maybe — just maybe — he deserves this.

***

Logan wakes with a start, his head pounding, the taste of stale whiskey thick on his tongue. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the assault of the light streaming through the windows. His whole body feels like it’s been put through a blender — sore, achy, heavy. But it’s not just the hangover, it’s the weight of everything, of what happened yesterday.

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he sits up, his hands pressing into the bed beneath him. Except, the texture’s wrong. It’s not the rough fabric of his apartment’s couch or even the smooth, cool sheets he’s used to.

Logan’s eyes snap open, and he looks around, confusion crashing over him like a cold wave. He’s not in his apartment. The walls are different — cleaner, the color a familiar light blue he hasn’t seen in years. The bed is narrow, uncomfortable, with plain white sheets. There’s a desk pushed against the far wall, a locker in the corner with his name printed on it in block letters.

This isn’t his apartment. This is … his driver’s room. The one he used when he was driving for Carlin in Formula 2.

“What the hell …” Logan mutters, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of it. He must still be drunk. Or maybe he’s dreaming. But no — he can feel the dull ache in his temples, the dryness in his throat, the uncomfortable press of the mattress beneath him. This is too real to be a dream.

But it doesn’t make any sense. The last thing he remembers is passing out in his apartment after finishing nearly a whole bottle of whiskey. He was a mess. He is a mess. But here he is, waking up in a place he hasn’t seen since 2022, a place that shouldn’t exist in his present reality.

Panic starts to set in. He fumbles for his phone, which is miraculously still in his pocket. The screen lights up, showing the date and time.

September 10th, 2022.

His heart stops. That’s impossible. It’s been two years. Two years since this date. His mind races, trying to piece together what the hell is happening, but nothing fits. He’s not in 2024 anymore. Somehow, he’s back in 2022.

It’s the only explanation, but it’s insane. None of this is possible. It’s not even like those vague dreams where everything’s familiar but distant. This is his life two years ago, down to the worn fabric of the team jacket hanging on the back of the door.

Before he can spiral any further, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Logan barely has time to react before it swings open, and Gary Catt, his manager, strides in with his usual briskness, already talking before the door is fully open.

“Logan, I just got off the phone with Jost Capito,” Gary says, his voice all business, not noticing Logan’s stunned expression. “Williams wants you. They want to lock you in for next season. It’s the best possible scenario. This is it, Logan — this is what we’ve been working toward.”

Logan feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. This conversation — he remembers it. It happened. Gary, standing in this very room, telling him the exact same thing, with the exact same excitement in his voice. The memory is vivid because it changed everything. It was the start of his F1 career. And also … the start of everything that led to that email.

“Logan?” Gary’s voice cuts through the fog in Logan’s mind, pulling him back to the present. “Are you even listening? This is huge, mate. You’re going to be in F1.”

Logan’s throat is dry, his mind racing with possibilities, with consequences. He remembers how he felt the first time he heard these words — pure elation, followed by a rush of nerves. But now, with the knowledge of what’s to come, all he feels is dread.

This is his chance to change things. To make sure it doesn’t end the way it did yesterday. He’s been given a do-over, a second chance, and he can’t afford to mess it up.

Logan takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Gary,” he says, his voice rough from sleep and the alcohol, “I don’t think I should take the offer.”

Gary stops mid-stride, turning to face Logan with a look of utter disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t think I should take the offer,” Logan repeats, more firmly this time, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s too soon.”

“Too soon?” Gary looks at him like he’s just sprouted another head. “Logan, this is Williams. It’s F1. There is no such thing as ‘too soon’ when an opportunity like this comes around. What are you talking about?”

Logan stands up, pacing the small room, trying to gather his thoughts. How does he explain this without sounding completely insane? He can’t tell Gary what he knows — what he’s seen, what’s happened. But he also can’t go down the same path again. Not when he knows where it leads.

“I just … I don’t think I’m ready,” Logan says, finally turning to face Gary. “If I rush into F1 now, it could end badly. I need more time. More experience.”

Gary’s expression shifts from disbelief to concern. “Logan, listen to yourself. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life. You’re as ready as anyone can be. If you pass this up, there’s no guarantee another chance like it will come along. You know that.”

Logan shakes his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but … I have a feeling that if I take this now, it’ll be a mistake. A big one. I’ll end up in a situation where I’m not able to deliver, where the pressure is too much. And that’s not good for anyone — me, the team, my career.”

Gary is silent for a long moment, studying Logan with an intensity that makes him squirm. “Where’s this coming from? You were over the moon about this before. What changed?”

Logan hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just … I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. About what I want my career to look like. And I don’t want to be one of those drivers who gets rushed into F1 and then crashes out because they weren’t ready. I want to do it right. I want to be fully prepared.”

“You don’t get to be fully prepared in this sport,” Gary says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “This is Formula 1. It’s sink or swim, and you know that. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this, Logan.”

Logan feels a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He knows Gary is right, in a way. This is F1. It’s not supposed to be easy. But he also knows that if he takes this offer, if he goes down the same road, it’ll end in disaster.

“I get that,” Logan says, his voice firm. “But I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to take the seat. Not this time.”

Gary stares at him, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Logan, this could be career suicide. You understand that, right?”

Logan nods, swallowing hard. “I do. But I’d rather take that risk than go into something I know I’m not ready for and crash out in a blaze of failure. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Gary runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “This isn’t like you. You’re not one to back down from a challenge. Why are you doing this?”

Because I know how it ends, Logan thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “Because I want to do this right. I want to have a long career in F1, not a short one that ends in disappointment. And to do that, I need to be smart about the choices I make now.”

Gary lets out a slow breath, clearly conflicted. “This is … I don’t even know what to say, Logan. You’re turning down a seat in F1. That’s not something you do lightly.”

“I’m not doing it lightly,” Logan assures him, though his heart is racing. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and it’s the right decision for me.”

There’s a long silence as Gary processes this. Logan can almost see the gears turning in his head, the calculations, the weighing of options. He knows how hard this must be for Gary to accept — hell, it’s hard for Logan to accept, and he’s the one making the decision. But he has to stick to his guns. He has to believe that this is the right choice.

Finally, Gary lets out a resigned sigh. “Alright, Logan. If this is really what you want, I’ll back you. But you need to understand the risks. This could close doors for you. Big ones.”

Logan nods, his stomach twisting with anxiety. “I know. But I also know that if I take this now, it could end up closing even more doors in the long run.”

Gary studies him for a long moment, then gives a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll let Jost know. But don’t expect him to be happy about it.”

Logan feels a mixture of relief and dread. “I won’t. But thanks, Gary. I know this isn’t easy.”

Gary gives him a tight smile, still clearly grappling with the decision. “No, it’s not. But you’re the one driving the car, Logan. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Logan nods, watching as Gary turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him. He stands there for a moment, taking in the silence, the surrealness of what just happened. He’s just turned down a seat in F1. The one thing he thought he wanted more than anything. But as the anxiety ebbs, a new feeling takes its place — determination.

This time, things are going to be different. He’s going to do it right, even if it means making the hard choices. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. This is his second chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

***

The 2023 F2 season ends in a flurry of champagne, confetti, and flashing cameras. Logan stands on the top step of the podium, the P1 trophy clutched in his hands, a grin splitting his face. He’s done it. He’s proved to everyone — most of all to himself — that he was ready. This time, he didn’t rush, didn’t let the pressure consume him. And it’s paid off. He’s the Formula 2 Drivers’ Champion.

But as the celebration winds down and reality sets in, Logan faces a new challenge. Despite his victory, the F1 grid is full, and F2 champions can’t return to the series. He could take a reserve role, bide his time, wait for a seat to open up. But that’s not what he wants. He’s not willing to spend another year on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity that may never come.

So when the offer from IndyCar comes, Logan doesn’t hesitate. He’s heard the stories — about the speed, the fierce competition, the thrill of racing on ovals. It’s not Formula 1, but it’s still racing at the highest level. And right now, that’s what he needs.

The decision surprises everyone. The media buzzes with speculation, but Logan remains focused. He knows what he’s doing. This is a new path, one that he’s chosen for himself, not because it was expected of him. He’s determined to make it work.

A few weeks later, Logan finds himself in the heart of Indianapolis, standing outside the office of Mario Andretti. The legendary name still carries a weight of history and reverence, even in this new world of racing. It feels surreal, like stepping into a different era of motorsport.

Inside the office, Mario is all business. The contract is laid out on the table between them, a simple piece of paper that represents Logan’s future. Mario goes over the details with the kind of thoroughness that only comes from years of experience, but Logan can barely focus. His mind is racing, thoughts darting between the past season, the unknown future, and the thrill of what he’s about to embark on.

“Everything looks good?” Mario asks, breaking Logan from his thoughts.

Logan blinks, then nods, forcing himself to concentrate. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Mario slides the pen across the table. “Then let’s make it official.”

Logan takes the pen, feeling the weight of the moment as he signs his name at the bottom of the contract. It’s done. He’s an IndyCar driver now.

Mario nods in approval, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Welcome to the team, Logan. We’re excited to have you.”

“Thank you,” Logan says, meaning it. This is a new beginning, and he’s ready for it.

They shake hands, and Mario stands, motioning towards the door. “I’d love to chat more, but I’ve got to head out. My granddaughter’s picking me up for lunch.”

Logan heads out of the office, his mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person rounding the corner until it’s too late. They collide, and Logan’s first instinct is to reach out, steadying the person as they stumble backward.

“Whoa, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, his hands gripping her arms as he helps her regain her balance.

“It’s okay,” you reply, laughing softly as you look up at him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Logan’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at you, the apology dying on his lips. You’re beautiful — stunning, even — with eyes that seem to sparkle with life and a smile that’s warm and inviting. For a moment, all he can do is stare, struck by how perfect you seem, like someone who’s stepped straight out of a dream.

“You alright?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study him.

Logan snaps out of it, quickly releasing his hold on you and stepping back. “Yeah, sorry again. I didn’t see you there.”

The door to Mario’s office opens, and the man himself steps out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the scene. “Everything okay out here?”

You turn to your grandfather, smiling brightly. “Just a little bump, Grandpa. Nothing to worry about.”

Mario’s expression softens as he looks at you, the sternness replaced by affection. “Good. I don’t want anyone getting hurt before lunch.”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and Logan finds himself smiling along, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“Logan,” Mario says, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat. This is Mario’s granddaughter? Of course, she is. It makes sense now, the confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. You’re part of a racing dynasty, just like Mario.

“Logan Sargeant,” Mario continues, introducing him to you. “He’s going to be racing with us next season.”

You offer him your hand, your smile never faltering. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Logan takes your hand, feeling a jolt of electricity as your fingers brush against his. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

You glance at Mario, then back at Logan. “We’re heading out for lunch. You should join us.”

Logan’s mind goes blank for a second, and all he can do is blink at you, trying to process what you just said. “Lunch? With you and … Mr. Andretti?”

You laugh again, and Logan thinks it might be the best sound he has ever heard. “Yeah, with us. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“No, no,” Logan stammers, trying to regain some composure. “I’d love to join you.”

Mario claps Logan on the shoulder, his laughter booming through the hallway. “Looks like you’ve made an impression already, kid. Come on, let’s get out of here before the press catches wind of this.”

Logan nods, still somewhat dazed as he follows you and Mario out of the building. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts — about the contract he just signed, the new chapter he’s stepping into, and now, about you. He can’t quite believe his luck. Not only is he starting a new adventure in IndyCar, but he’s also just met someone who, in the span of a few minutes, has completely captivated him.

As they walk to Mario’s car, Logan steals glances at you, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. You seem so at ease, chatting with your grandfather, your laughter punctuating the conversation. There’s a lightness about you, a warmth that’s infectious, and Logan finds himself drawn to it, to you.

“Logan,” you say, turning to him as you reach the car. “So, what made you decide to join IndyCar? It’s not every day an F2 champion makes that leap.”

Logan pauses, caught off guard by the directness of your question. “Well, uh,” he begins, trying to find the right words, “I guess I just wanted something different. F1 wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to sit around waiting for a seat to open up. IndyCar seemed like the right challenge. Something new, but still competitive.”

You nod, clearly intrigued. “That makes sense. It’s a bold move, but I think it’ll pay off.”

“Bold,” Logan repeats, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you assure him, your eyes sparkling. “I admire people who take risks. Especially when they’re as calculated as yours seems to be.”

Mario clears his throat, a knowing grin on his face as he watches the two of you. “Alright, kids, enough shop talk. Let’s get some food.”

You and Logan exchange a smile before sliding into the back seat of the car. The conversation flows easily, despite Logan’s initial nerves. You ask him about his time in F2, what it was like racing on the different tracks, how he handled the pressure. Logan finds himself opening up more than he expected, the words coming easily under your encouraging gaze.

Mario chimes in every now and then, adding his own insights, but it’s clear he’s content to let the two of you do most of the talking. He watches with an amused glint in his eye, as if he’s already figured out something that Logan is just beginning to realize.

By the time you reach the restaurant, Logan feels like he’s known you for much longer than the short time you’ve actually spent together. There’s an ease between you that he’s rarely felt with anyone else, a connection that seems to have sparked almost instantly.

Inside the restaurant, Mario insists on taking the head of the table, leaving you and Logan to sit across from each other. As you settle in, you continue to ask Logan questions, but now they’re more personal — what does he do outside of racing? What’s his favorite movie? Does he have any hidden talents?

Logan answers as best he can, though he’s still reeling a bit from how quickly this day has turned into something he never expected. He’s just signed with IndyCar, but more than that, he’s sitting across from someone who makes his heart race faster than any car ever could.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Logan,” Mario says suddenly, breaking into the conversation. “I’ve seen a lot of young drivers come and go, but you … you’ve got something special. Just keep your focus, and you’ll go far.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andretti,” Logan says, his voice sincere. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Call me Mario,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “We’re family now, after all.”

Logan smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him at the word “family.” It’s strange, how quickly things have shifted, how he’s gone from a solitary driver trying to make his way in the world to someone who might actually belong here, in this new place, with these new people.

As the lunch continues, Logan finds himself growing more comfortable, the initial awkwardness fading away. You keep the conversation lively, sharing stories about your grandfather, about your own life, and Logan can’t help but be drawn to your passion, your intelligence, your warmth. It’s clear that you’re not just Mario Andretti’s granddaughter — you’re your own person, with your own dreams and ambitions.

Eventually, the meal winds down, and Mario excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but charged, filled with the unspoken things neither of you have quite put into words yet.

“So,” you say, leaning forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips, “what do you think of Indy so far?”

Logan grins, feeling a boldness he didn’t expect. “Well, it just got a whole lot more interesting.”

You laugh, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, his voice softening as he looks at you, really looks at you. “I think I am too.”

You hold his gaze, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels almost like fate.

Before the silence can stretch too long, Mario returns, his phone call finished. He glances between the two of you, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look that makes Logan’s ears burn. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, standing up and giving Logan one last, lingering smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Logan stands as well, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you and Mario head out of the restaurant, Logan lingers for a moment, watching you go. He can’t quite believe what just happened, but one thing is certain — his life just got a lot more complicated, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he walks out into the bright sunlight, Logan can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He’s taken a leap into the unknown, and it feels like the start of something incredible.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, vibrating through the very core of the Speedway as Logan crosses the finish line first. It’s the 107th running of the Indianapolis 500, and he’s just won it. The realization hits him like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath out of him. He’s an Indy 500 champion. In his rookie season, no less.

The engine growls as he coasts to a stop, and for a moment, all he can do is sit there, hands trembling on the steering wheel. His heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he lets out a breathless laugh, disbelief and elation mingling into something indescribable.

“Logan Sargeant wins the Indy 500!” The announcer’s voice echoes through the speakers, barely audible over the cheers of the crowd. He hears it, but it still feels surreal, like something out of a dream.

The pit crew rushes over, the celebration already in full swing as they haul him out of the car. He’s immediately surrounded by a sea of people — team members, media, officials — everyone wanting a piece of this historic moment. But through it all, there’s one thing on his mind. One person.

You.

He’s searching the crowd, trying to spot you among the chaos. His vision is blurred with sweat and tears, but then he sees you — pushing your way through the throng of people, a look of pure joy on your face. You’re clapping, laughing, your eyes shining with pride, and all Logan can think is how he needs to get to you.

But first, there’s tradition to uphold.

One of the crew hands him the iconic bottle of milk, the symbol of victory. Logan takes it, still in a daze, and tilts it back, taking a long swig. The cold liquid is refreshing, cutting through the heat of the moment, and he can’t help but laugh as he lowers the bottle, milk dripping down his chin.

Without hesitation, he lifts the bottle above his head and pours the rest over himself. The milk runs down his face, soaking into his race suit, and the crowd goes wild, the noise level somehow reaching new heights. He feels on top of the world — unstoppable, invincible.

And then he spots you again, closer now, just on the edge of the crowd. Logan doesn’t think, doesn’t pause to consider anything else. He just moves, pushing through the throng of people until he’s standing right in front of you.

You’re smiling up at him, eyes bright with something that makes his heart race faster than it did on the final lap. Before he can stop himself, Logan reaches out, pulls you in, and kisses you.

It’s the kind of kiss that’s been building for months — the culmination of all the moments, all the glances, all the unspoken words between you. You taste like the victory he’s just claimed, like the adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins, like everything he’s been chasing since he first set foot in this world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, milk dripping from Logan’s face and onto yours. You laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.

“You’re lucky I’m not lactose intolerant,” you tease, licking the milk from his lips with a grin that’s both playful and suggestive. “But honestly? It’d be worth it even if I was.”

Logan laughs, a deep, full-bodied sound that comes from a place of pure, unfiltered happiness. He feels like he’s floating, like nothing in the world could possibly bring him down from this high. Not now, not ever.

“Best win of my life,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, still holding you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment disappear.

You tilt your head, still smiling up at him with those eyes that have captivated him from the start. “I’d hope so,” you say softly. “You just won the Indy 500.”

He shakes his head, a playful grin on his face. “No, I mean this.” He gestures between the two of you, the words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning.

For a second, you just stare at him, the noise of the crowd fading into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. And then you’re laughing, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

This one is softer, sweeter — less about the heat of the moment and more about the connection between you, the way everything just seems to fit when you’re together. Logan loses himself in it, in you, in this moment that feels like the culmination of everything he’s ever wanted.

When you finally break apart, the noise of the crowd floods back in, the celebration continuing around you. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world.

“Come on,” you say, tugging him towards the podium. “You’ve got a trophy to collect.”

Logan follows, still holding onto your hand, not willing to let you go just yet. The team is waiting, cheering him on, and as they hoist him up onto their shoulders, Logan realizes that this — this moment, this feeling — is what he’s been racing for all along.

Standing on the podium, the trophy in his hands, Logan looks out at the sea of faces, at the fans cheering his name, at the team celebrating their victory. But his eyes find you in the crowd, and that’s where they stay.

You’re smiling up at him, and Logan knows, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The beginning of something incredible, something he never saw coming but can’t imagine living without.

As the anthem plays and the confetti rains down, Logan lifts the trophy high, his heart full to bursting. He’s done it — he’s won the Indy 500. But more than that, he’s found something, someone, who makes all of it mean so much more.

And as he looks down at you, standing there with that bright, beautiful smile, Logan knows that he’s not just a champion. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.

***

The soft hum of the office fills the silence as Logan sits across from Mario, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The past year has been a whirlwind — plenty of IndyCar wins, that unforgettable victory at the Indy 500, and the life he’s built with you by his side. It’s been everything he didn’t know he needed, but now, as he sits in Mario’s office, there’s an air of something significant, something life-altering in the way Mario looks at him.

Mario clears his throat, leaning forward on his desk, hands clasped. “Logan,” he begins, voice steady, serious. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking — planning, actually — and I need to talk to you about something important.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat, the weight of Mario’s words sinking in. He nods, leaning forward slightly, feeling the anticipation coil tight in his chest. “What is it?” He asks, voice steady despite the flurry of nerves.

Mario takes a deep breath, then looks Logan squarely in the eye. “We’re buying Haas F1 Team. The deal’s already in motion, and we’ll be restructuring everything from the ground up to make our entrance into Formula 1 in 2026.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Logan’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he’s not sure if he’s heard Mario correctly. “Formula 1?” He echoes, almost disbelieving. His mind races, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as it gets,” Mario replies, his expression unwavering. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Logan. And now, with everything coming together, it’s finally happening. But here’s the thing-” he pauses, his gaze locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt, “I can’t think of anyone better suited to lead this team as our driver than you.”

The words hit Logan like a freight train. He stares at Mario, unable to speak, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Formula 1 has always been the dream, the pinnacle of everything he’s worked for. The chance he thought he’d lost — twice, if he counts the strange twist of fate that had brought him here in the first place.

“Logan, I know this is a lot to take in,” Mario continues, his tone softer now, understanding. “But I believe in you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, in F2, in IndyCar — hell, you won the Indy 500 in your first season. And I know you still have that fire for F1. This is your shot, kid. And I want you to take it.”

Logan feels the lump in his throat as Mario’s words sink in. The room seems to close in around him, the gravity of the moment pressing down like a physical weight. He’s had a lot of success in IndyCar, more than he ever imagined, and it brought him you — his reason to smile, his anchor in the storm. But Formula 1? That’s the dream he’s never fully let go of, even when he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He swallows hard, forcing the words out past the emotion threatening to choke him. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice thick. “I mean, this is … I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance like this.”

Mario smiles, the kind of smile that’s equal parts pride and encouragement. “I know it’s a lot, Logan. And it’s not an easy decision, especially considering everything you’ve built here in IndyCar. But I have no doubt in my mind that you’re the right person for this. You’ve got what it takes to succeed in F1, and I’m not just talking about talent. You’ve got heart, determination, and the ability to learn from your mistakes. That’s what makes a champion.”

Logan’s mind races, the possibilities spinning out in front of him. He thinks about everything he’s worked for, everything he’s achieved. And then he thinks about you — how you’ve been there with him through it all, supporting him, believing in him even when he doubted himself.

He takes a deep breath, his decision already forming in his mind, solidifying with each passing second. “Okay,” he says, meeting Mario’s gaze head-on. “I’ll do it. I want this, Mario. I want to prove to myself that I can do it right this time.”

Mario’s grin widens, and he stands up, offering Logan his hand. “Welcome to Andretti F1 Team. We’re going to do great things together.”

Logan shakes his hand, the reality of it all starting to settle in. He’s going to be a Formula 1 driver again. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, everything he’s ever wanted all over again. As he stands there, absorbing the magnitude of what’s just happened, he feels a strange mix of emotions — elation, fear, anticipation, and something else that he can’t quite name.

Mario walks him to the door, still talking about the next steps, the plans they have for the team, but Logan’s mind is half-focused on something else, someone else. As the door swings open, the conversation comes to a halt. The sight that greets them both brings a grin to Mario’s face and a burst of laughter from Logan.

You’re standing there, your ear pressed to the door, looking guilty as hell when you realize you’ve been caught. You straighten up quickly, trying to play it off, but the blush spreading across your cheeks gives you away.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” Logan teases, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. There’s a lightness in his voice that wasn’t there moments ago, the news already settling into a place of excitement rather than apprehension.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, but failing miserably. “I, um … I might have been curious,” you admit, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “Looks like we’ve got a new team spy, Logan. Better watch out.”

Logan can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He steps out of the office, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You know, you didn’t have to spy,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I would’ve told you everything.”

You look up at him, your smile fading slightly as something more serious takes its place in your eyes. “I just … I wanted to know if it was good news,” you say quietly. “I know how much F1 means to you.”

Logan feels his heart clench at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. You’ve always understood him, always known what drives him, what keeps him going. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “It’s great news,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting a second shot at F1, and I’m not going to mess it up this time.”

Your smile returns, bright and full of the same determination he feels. “I know you won’t,” you say confidently. “You’re going to do amazing things, Logie. And I’ll be right there with you.”

Logan’s chest tightens with emotion, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Good thing you won’t have to find out,” you reply, your tone teasing but laced with affection.

Logan’s heart swells, and before he can stop himself, he lifts you off your feet, spinning you around in a circle. You yelp in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the hallway.

He sets you down gently, your laughter fading into a soft smile as you look up at him. There’s a moment of quiet, the world around you fading away as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. Logan leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate, a promise of what’s to come.

When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Logan feels a sense of calm settle over him. Everything is falling into place, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

With you by his side, he knows he can face whatever comes next.

“Ready to take on the world?” You ask, your voice light but your eyes serious.

Logan grins, squeezing your hand. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, he leads you down the hallway, the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.

***

The sun is barely up, casting long shadows across the Albert Park Circuit, but the air is already alive with anticipation. It’s the first day of preseason testing for the 2026 Formula 1 season, and the paddock is buzzing with the usual mix of excitement and nerves.

Teams are unpacking crates, engineers are huddled over laptops, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber is already in the air. But for Logan, walking through the paddock with you on his arm, it feels like stepping into a dream — one he’s worked too damn hard to make a reality.

He adjusts the collar of his Andretti jacket, the weight of the moment not lost on him. This is it. His second chance — though, thanks to the bizarre twist of fate, no one else knows it’s his second. Everyone around him sees a rookie, an American hopeful making his debut with Andretti’s new F1 team. But Logan knows better. He’s here with experience that no one can fathom, and he’s determined not to waste it.

As you walk beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, he can’t help but steal a glance at you. There’s a brightness in your eyes, a mix of pride and excitement that mirrors his own. “You okay?” He asks, squeezing your hand gently.

You look up at him and smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart do a little flip. “I’m more than okay,” you reply. “I’m with you, and we’re about to watch you live your dream. What could be better than that?”

Logan grins, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. You’ve been his rock through everything — the highs, the lows, the strange, unexplainable journey that brought him back here. He’s never been more certain that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As you make your way through the paddock, heads turn. It’s not just because Logan is here with the legendary Andretti team, but because of the woman at his side. He catches a few curious glances, some surprised, others appreciative, and he can’t blame them. You’re a sight to behold, and he’s proud to be walking in with you.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan spots a familiar face. Oscar Piastri, decked out in McLaren colors, is standing near the entrance to the pit lane, chatting with a few team members. It’s been years since they last spoke properly — back when they were both climbing the ranks in the junior series, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of track.

They were close once, but life pulled them in different directions — Oscar to McLaren, Logan to IndyCar. And now, here they are, both in Formula 1, albeit on different paths.

Logan feels a wave of nostalgia, and before he can overthink it, he’s steering you in Oscar’s direction. As you approach, Oscar looks up, and for a split second, there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it melts into a wide, genuine smile.

“Logan Sargeant,” Oscar says, his Australian accent as thick as ever. He steps forward, hand outstretched, and Logan takes it, shaking firmly. “I’ll be damned. You actually made it.”

Logan chuckles, the sound more relaxed than he feels. “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s been a long road, but here I am.”

Oscar’s smile widens, his grip on Logan’s hand lingering for just a moment longer. “It’s good to see you, mate. I was wondering when you’d show up in F1. Figured you were having too much fun in IndyCar to come back.”

“There was a lot to love about IndyCar,” Logan admits, glancing at you with a fond smile. “But F1 was always the dream, you know? Couldn’t pass up a chance like this.”

Oscar nods, understanding clear in his expression. “I get it. And with Andretti, no less. That’s a hell of a team to start with. You’re going to shake things up around here, I can tell.”

Logan shrugs, trying to play it cool even as his heart pounds with the reality of it all. “That’s the plan. But enough about me. How’s life at McLaren? You guys ready to give us a run for our money?”

Oscar laughs, the sound light and easy. “Always. McLaren’s been working their asses off, and I’m feeling good about this season. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because we’re old friends.”

Logan grins, feeling the competitive spark that’s always driven him reignite. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve gone wheel-to-wheel. I’m looking forward to it.”

Oscar’s gaze shifts to you, his curiosity evident. “And who’s this?” He asks, his tone polite but genuinely interested.

Logan’s grin softens as he looks at you. “This is my better half,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “She’s the one who keeps me sane.”

You smile at Oscar, offering your hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Oscar. Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

Oscar shakes your hand, his smile warm and welcoming. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly,” you tease, throwing Logan a playful glance.

Logan laughs, feeling a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s good to be here, good to be surrounded by the familiar banter and camaraderie that he’s missed. He knows the road ahead is going to be tough — F1 is nothing if not ruthless — but with you by his side and old friends welcoming him back, he feels more ready than ever to face whatever comes his way.

Oscar steps back, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Well, I’d better let you guys get settled in. But hey, we should catch up properly later. Maybe grab a drink after testing?”

Logan nods, appreciating the offer. “Definitely. It’s been too long.”

As Oscar walks away, Logan watches him for a moment, the memories of their shared past mingling with the excitement of the present. It’s surreal, being here again, but this time with the weight of everything he’s learned, everything he’s fought for.

You tug gently on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” You ask, your voice soft and curious.

Logan smiles down at you, squeezing your hand. “Just how different things are now,” he admits. “But in a good way. I’ve got a second shot at this, and I’m not going to waste it.”

You nod, your eyes shining with the same determination he feels. “And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

Logan feels a swell of emotion, gratitude, and love that he can’t quite put into words. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The two of you continue walking, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you focus on each other. The day ahead is full of unknowns — testing, strategy meetings, the inevitable pressure of proving himself — but with you by his side, Logan feels ready for anything.

As you make your way to the Andretti garage, the team members greet Logan with nods and smiles, and he can see the mix of curiosity and expectation in their eyes. They’re all in this together, building something new, something that has the potential to be great. And Logan is determined to be the driver they need, the one who can lead them to success.

You squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “You’re going to do amazing, Logan. I can feel it.”

He smiles, the confidence in your voice bolstering his own. “Thanks. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” you reply, your gaze unwavering.

As the day progresses, Logan finds himself falling into the rhythm of the paddock. The familiar sounds of engines roaring to life, the chatter of engineers discussing data, the focused intensity that permeates every corner — it’s like he never left. But this time, there’s a new layer to it all, a sense of belonging that he didn’t fully grasp the first time around.

He exchanges nods and brief conversations with other drivers as they pass by, some offering congratulations, others sizing him up as the new competition. It’s all part of the game, the unspoken dance of respect and rivalry that defines the sport. But through it all, Logan keeps you close, your presence grounding him in the midst of the chaos.

As the day draws to a close, Logan finds himself back in the garage, the car stripped down and the team poring over the data from the day’s sessions. He’s tired, the kind of exhaustion that comes from both physical exertion and mental focus, but it’s the good kind of tired — the kind that tells him he’s exactly where he needs to be.

You’re standing nearby, chatting with one of the engineers, your laughter mingling with the sounds of the garage. Logan watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. You’ve always had a way of fitting in, of making everyone around you feel at ease, and he’s grateful for that — for you.

As if sensing his gaze, you look over at him and smile, that familiar warmth in your eyes. You make your way over to him, and when you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you close. The noise of the garage fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

“You did great today,” you say.

Logan holds you a little tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. “You’re the one out there driving, Logan. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”

He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “It means everything to me that you are,” he whispers.

For a moment, the chaos of the garage and the world outside fades, leaving just the two of you standing together, ready to face whatever comes next. Logan knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but with you by his side, he’s more than ready to take on the challenge.

***

The media room is buzzing with the usual pre-race energy, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling in the air as the drivers settle in behind the table. Logan’s seated between Oscar and Charles, the bright lights overhead casting sharp shadows across their faces. The backdrop behind them, plastered with sponsor logos and the official F1 emblem, feels almost like a stage, the press in front of them the audience waiting for their performance.

Logan shifts in his seat, glancing down at the bottled water in front of him. The press conference has been the usual mix of questions so far — how the cars are handling, expectations for the season, the general camaraderie between the drivers. But there’s an undercurrent, a sense that something more pointed is coming.

A journalist from the back finally stands, her voice clear and direct as she catches Logan’s attention. “Logan,” she begins, holding her recorder up, “there’s been some observation that every time you see James Vowles, your expression seems to … change. Almost like you’re not too thrilled to be around him. Any comment on that?”

There’s a moment of silence in the room, a collective breath held. Logan feels the gaze of every person on him, including the drivers beside him. He lets out a quiet laugh, trying to play it cool, but he can’t help the way his mind flashes back to the last time he’d faced Vowles, the man’s condescending tone, the cold dismissal that had sent him spiraling.

Oscar shifts beside him, giving him a sideways glance, probably wondering where this is going. Logan catches the edge of his own reflection in the shiny surface of the table and forces his expression into something neutral, even though the old bitterness is clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach.

“Bad vibes,” Logan says finally, his voice carrying just enough humor to keep it light, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “That’s what my girlfriend would say. He just … gives off bad vibes.”

There’s a ripple of laughter through the room, the tension breaking slightly. But the journalist isn’t done yet. “Bad vibes? Care to elaborate on that?”

Logan shrugs, trying to brush it off with a casualness he doesn’t quite feel. “You know, it’s one of those things. Sometimes you just don’t click with someone, right? It’s nothing serious.”

Charles, on his other side, leans into his mic, flashing a grin. “You’re not going to make us all paranoid about our vibes now, are you?”

The room laughs again, and Logan takes the opportunity to sip his water, hoping the moment will pass. But he can feel the weight of the past pressing against him, the memories of how it all went down before he’d found himself in this second chance. He knows better than anyone that this sport is a game of perceptions, of how you carry yourself, and he can’t afford to let the past taint his future.

Another journalist jumps in, steering the conversation toward safer waters — questions about the new car, how he’s adjusting to the Andretti team. Logan answers on autopilot, the usual lines about feeling confident, about how the team has been amazing. But in the back of his mind, he’s still thinking about that flash of disgust he couldn’t hide, the way his skin prickled when he saw Vowles earlier that day.

When the press conference finally wraps up, and the drivers are ushered out of the room, Oscar hangs back, falling into step beside Logan as they head toward the paddock. “So,” Oscar starts, keeping his voice low, “bad vibes, huh?”

Logan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know how it is,” he says, trying to keep it light, though he knows Oscar can see right through him.

Oscar just nods, not pushing any further, and Logan’s grateful for that. They walk in silence for a moment, the din of the paddock growing louder as they approach, engineers and team members bustling around them.

“Honestly, mate,” Oscar says after a beat, “if anyone’s going to bring some good vibes into F1, it’s you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan glances over, and there’s sincerity in Oscar’s expression that makes Logan’s chest tighten, the weight of everything he’s carried with him lightening just a bit. “Thanks, Oscar. That means a lot.”

They reach the Andretti motorhome, where you’re waiting for Logan, your eyes lighting up the moment you spot him. He feels a warmth spread through him at the sight, a reminder of what really matters.

You push off the wall you’d been leaning against, falling into step beside him. “So, how’d it go in there?”

Logan smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as they walk. “Let’s just say my reputation for honesty might have gotten a bit more solidified.”

You tilt your head up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “That bad, huh?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not bad, just … honest.”

You glance at Oscar, who’s still walking beside you, and give him a knowing look. “He always has to make things interesting, doesn’t he?”

Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “Never a dull moment with this one.”

As you make your way back into the motorhome, Logan feels the tension of the day starting to ebb away. The familiar scent of coffee and fuel, the low hum of conversations around him, and the comforting presence of you by his side — it all feels right. Despite everything, he knows this is where he belongs.

Once inside, the motorhome offers a brief respite from the chaotic energy outside. The team is prepping for final checks, and Logan knows he should be focusing on the task ahead, but there’s something nagging at him, a need to explain himself, to make sure you understand.

You catch the way his brows furrow slightly, the way his grip on your shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. “What’s up?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, looking for the right words. “I just … I don’t want to come off like I’m carrying a grudge or anything. That comment about Vowles — it probably sounded harsher than I meant it.”

You step closer, your hand finding his, grounding him. “Logan, it’s okay. Everyone has people they don’t vibe with. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

He nods, the tightness in his chest loosening as he looks into your eyes, seeing the unwavering support there. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s a gift. Plus, you make it easy.”

Oscar clears his throat, and both of you look over to see him trying not to grin. “I’m going to leave you two to it. Just don’t forget we have a race to focus on.”

Logan laughs, shaking his head as Oscar heads out. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right out.”

When Oscar’s gone, Logan turns back to you, his expression softening. “Thanks for being here. Really.”

You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Always.”

As you both make your way out to the garage, the sounds of the team preparing for the weekend reach your ears, and Logan feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the anticipation of what’s to come. The memory of the press conference, of Vowles, fades into the background. What matters now is the race ahead, the chance to prove himself once again, and the knowledge that whatever happens, you’re right there with him.

He glances over at you as they approach the car, and you catch him staring, raising an eyebrow in question. “What?”

Logan just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile playing on your lips. “You better believe it, Sargeant. Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got.”

He nods, feeling more centered than he has all day. With a final squeeze of your hand, he steps into the garage, ready to take on whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens on the track, he’s already won in the ways that truly matter.

***

The roar of the engines reverberates through the paddock, a constant hum that thrums in Logan’s chest as he steps into the Andretti garage. It’s yet another race weekend, and the energy is electric, a mix of anticipation and nerves hanging in the air.

The team is buzzing around him, mechanics fine-tuning the car, engineers buried in data, but Logan’s focus is on the familiar figure leaning casually against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the hustle with an almost serene smile.

Logan stops in his tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise. It’s not that Mario isn’t around — he’s a constant presence in the team, always keeping an eye on things — but he usually doesn’t show up this early in the weekend, and certainly not with that look on his face.

It’s a smile Logan recognizes all too well, a mix of pride and mischief that means only one thing: Mario knows something that everyone else doesn’t, and it’s going to shake things up.

Logan weaves his way through the garage, sidestepping the organized chaos until he’s standing in front of Mario. “You look like you’re up to something,” Logan says, crossing his arms to mirror the older man’s posture. “What’s going on?”

Mario’s smile widens just a fraction, his eyes glinting with a secret. “Now, what makes you think I’m up to anything, kid?”

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Because I know that look. You’ve got news.”

Mario doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pushes off the wall and motions for Logan to follow him to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team. Logan follows, his curiosity piqued. Whatever Mario’s about to tell him, it’s big.

When they’re sufficiently out of earshot, Mario leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You remember how I told you a while back that we were working on something big for the team?”

Logan nods, his interest fully captured. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Mario’s smile turns almost wicked. “Well, it seems that James Vowles and Williams think they’re going to secure Adrian Newey for next season.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. Newey is a legend in the sport, the kind of designer who can turn a good team into a championship-winning one. If Williams were to get him, it would be a game-changer. “Wait, you said they think they’re going to get him?”

“Exactly.” Mario’s grin is practically gleeful now. “What they don’t know is that Adrian’s already in talks with us. In fact, we’re just about ready to sign the deal.”

Logan lets out a low whistle, the magnitude of the news sinking in. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. By this time next week, Adrian Newey will be working for Andretti.”

Logan can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. This is huge, a move that will send shockwaves through the paddock. With Newey on board, Andretti’s chances of becoming a front-runner in F1 just skyrocketed. “I can’t believe it,” Logan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s going to change everything.”

Mario nods, satisfaction evident in his expression. “It’s a big deal, no doubt about it. But we’ve still got work to do. We can’t get complacent, not with what’s at stake. But this … this is a big step in the right direction.”

Logan’s mind is already racing ahead, thinking about what this means for the team, for his own career. The idea of driving a car designed by Newey is almost surreal. “When are you going to announce it?”

“Not until everything’s signed and sealed,” Mario replies. “But once it’s done, we’ll make sure the whole world knows. And Williams … well, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

Logan laughs, the sound coming out more exhilarated than he intended. The idea of one-upping Vowles, especially after everything that’s happened between them, is deeply satisfying. “I can’t wait to see the look on Vowles’ face when he finds out.”

Mario pats Logan on the shoulder, the gesture filled with a camaraderie that Logan has come to cherish. “Neither can I, kid. Neither can I.”

As they walk back towards the main part of the garage, Logan’s mind is still reeling from the news. He’s been focused on the present, on making sure he performs at his best every time he’s out on the track, but this … this opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. With Newey on board, there’s no telling what they can achieve.

When you spot him from across the garage, the look on his face must give away that something’s up because you immediately make your way over, your expression curious. “What’s going on?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

Logan glances around, making sure no one is within earshot, and then leans in, his voice low. “Mario just dropped a bombshell. Andretti’s about to sign Adrian Newey.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and Logan watches as a grin spreads across your face, mirroring his own excitement. “No way. That’s … huge!”

“I know,” Logan says, still barely able to believe it himself. “This changes everything.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, your voice filled with pride. “You’re going to be driving a car designed by Newey. Do you realize how amazing that is?”

Logan nods, the reality of it finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. It’s … I can’t even put it into words.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t have to. I can see it on your face.”

For a moment, Logan just stands there, soaking it all in. The garage is still bustling around them, the team oblivious to the monumental news that’s just been dropped in their laps. But Logan knows that soon enough, everything is going to change. This is the kind of move that can define a career, that can take a team from being contenders to being champions.

But more than that, it’s a chance for redemption. A chance to prove to everyone — including himself — that he belongs here, that he’s capable of more than anyone ever gave him credit for. The past is behind him now, and with you by his side, and Newey in the garage, the future looks brighter than ever.

Logan glances over at you, seeing the pride and excitement in your eyes, and feels a surge of gratitude. For the second chance he’s been given, for the team that believes in him, and for you, the person who’s been there through it all.

“We’re going to do something amazing, you know that?” Logan says, his voice filled with conviction.

You nod, your smile soft but full of certainty. “I know. And I can’t wait to see it.”

Neither can Logan.

***

Logan’s heart is still pounding from the rush of the race as he stands on the podium, feeling the weight of the Miami sun on his shoulders. The crowd roars below him, a sea of red, white, and blue as far as the eye can see, their energy pulsing through his veins. He can hardly believe it. A podium at his home race, in front of a crowd that feels like family, is something he’d dreamed about since he was a kid.

He turns, looking out over the crowd, his eyes scanning for you. You’re there, as you always are, standing with the Andretti team, your smile brighter than the sun. The mechanics are cheering, patting each other on the back, but Logan only has eyes for you. It’s like everything else falls away — the noise, the cameras, the pressure of the season — all of it fades into the background. All that matters is the way you’re looking at him, like he’s your entire world.

He takes a deep breath, the realization of what he’s about to do washing over him. His hands shake, just slightly, as he reaches up and touches the chain around his neck, feeling the weight of the ring that’s been hidden there for weeks, waiting for this moment.

Without another thought, he drops to one knee, right there on the podium. The world seems to stop as he looks up at you, the crowd going silent in his mind. He hears the sharp intake of breath from the Andretti crew, sees the shock on your face as you register what’s happening.

“Hey,” he says, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I … I don’t know if I can put into words what you mean to me. You’ve been with me through everything — the wins, the losses, the crazy twists and turns. And I can’t imagine going through any of it without you by my side.” He pauses, the weight of the moment sinking in. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is … will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen, and for a second, you’re frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. Then, as if breaking free from a spell, you laugh, a sound that’s pure joy, and nod vigorously. The next thing Logan knows, you’re being lifted onto the podium by the mechanics, tears of happiness streaming down your face as you launch yourself into his arms.

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I will!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, the noise deafening as Logan slides the ring onto your finger. He pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes like victory, love, and everything good in the world. The mechanics are going wild, chanting your names, and someone — Logan thinks it might be Mario — pops open a bottle of champagne, spraying it over everyone.

It’s chaotic, it’s perfect, and it’s a moment that Logan knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life. As he holds you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realizes that this — right here, with you in his arms, and his home crowd cheering around him — is the true victory. The rest is just a bonus.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You know,” he says, his voice low so only you can hear, “I always knew I was lucky. But this … this is something else entirely.”

You smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart skip a beat, and lean in to kiss him again. “We’re both lucky, Logan,” you whisper against his lips. “And this is just the beginning.”

***

The paddock is buzzing with activity, the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics creating a familiar symphony that Logan finds oddly comforting. It’s the start of another race weekend, but this one feels different. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation that has nothing to do with the cars or the track.

Logan slips away from the Andretti garage, his eyes scanning the bustling paddock as he makes his way toward the Williams garage. He’s done his best to stay clear of them ever since re-entering Formula 1, but today is different. Today, he has a reason to be there — a reason that brings a small, almost mischievous smile to his lips.

The Williams garage is a flurry of motion, mechanics and engineers huddled over laptops, surrounded by toolboxes and tires. The sight brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over Logan, but he quickly pushes it aside. He isn’t here for a trip down memory lane.

Spotting Alex Albon near the back, Logan weaves through the chaos, his steps light and easy despite the tension he can feel crawling up his spine. Alex is engrossed in a conversation with his race engineer, but when Logan steps up, he looks up in surprise.

“Logan!” Alex greets, his face splitting into a wide grin. “What are you doing here? Slumming it with the backmarkers?”

“Something like that,” Logan replies, his tone light as he pulls a small, cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Alex, who takes it with a curious tilt of his head. “Figured I should deliver this in person.”

Alex flips the envelope over, his eyes widening slightly as he reads the names printed in elegant script on the front — his and Lily’s. He breaks into a grin, already understanding what it is before he even opens it.

“No way,” Alex says, pulling out the invitation and quickly scanning the details. “You’re really doing it, huh? Getting hitched?”

Logan chuckles, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. “Yeah, we are. And we’d love for you and Lily to be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex replies, his grin softening into something more sincere. “Congrats, man. You two are great together.”

Logan nods, grateful for the genuine well-wishes. He’s about to say something else when a flicker of movement catches his eye. Glancing up, he sees James Vowles standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he watches the exchange between Logan and Alex.

For a brief moment, the past rushes back — the frustration, the disappointment, the sense of being discarded like a broken part. Logan feels a familiar pang of bitterness, but he quickly tamps it down. He isn’t that person anymore. He’s moved on, and he’s got better things — better people — in his life now.

Still, he can’t help himself.

He meets James’ gaze head-on, his smile shifting into something a bit more pointed, more deliberate. “Oh, James?” He says, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the noise of the garage. “Seems like your invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail. Real shame.”

James’ eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. The tension between them is almost tangible, thickening the air around them. Logan holds his gaze for a moment longer, then shrugs exaggeratingly before turning his attention back to Alex.

“Anyway, hope to see you there,” Logan says, clapping Alex on the shoulder before stepping back. “Tell Lily we’re looking forward to it.”

“Will do,” Alex replies, still smiling but with a touch of unease as he glances between Logan and James.

Logan doesn’t linger. He turns on his heel and strides back through the garage, the small, satisfied grin still tugging at his lips. He can feel James’ eyes boring into his back, but he doesn’t care. Let him stew, Logan thinks. He’s got more important things on his mind.

As he exits the garage and steps back into the sun-drenched paddock, Logan takes a deep breath, feeling lighter, freer. The thought of the wedding, of you waiting for him back in the Andretti garage, fills him with a sense of contentment that he never thought he’d find in the world of Formula 1.

He spots you before you see him, standing with Mario and a few other Andretti team members, animatedly talking about something. Your laughter rings out over the noise of the paddock, and Logan feels his heart swell with affection.

It’s funny how things work out, he thinks. How life has a way of surprising you, of turning things around when you least expect it. He’s come a long way from that lost, angry kid who thought he’d never get a second chance. And now, here he is, standing on the cusp of a future that’s brighter than anything he could have imagined.

He picks up his pace, eager to get back to you, to tell you about the exchange with Alex and the little jab he couldn’t resist throwing at James. But as he draws closer, you turn and catch sight of him, your face lighting up in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey, you,” you call out, stepping away from the group to meet him halfway. “Did you get it done?”

Logan nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I did. Alex and Lily are in.”

“And Vowles?” You ask, a knowing glint in your eyes.

Logan chuckles, slipping an arm around your waist as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Let’s just say … he didn’t make the cut.”

You laugh, the sound pure and full of joy, and it’s the best thing Logan’s heard all day. “Good. You don’t need that kind of negativity at our wedding.”

“No, I don’t,” Logan agrees, feeling a rush of relief that you’re by his side, making even the most awkward encounters bearable. “And anyway, we’ve got more than enough people who actually care about us.”

You nod, your expression softening as you look up at him. “Yeah, we do. And I can’t wait to celebrate with them — with you.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through him, the same warmth he’s felt ever since the day he realized just how much you meant to him. It’s a feeling that never gets old, no matter how many podiums or victories he racks up. Because at the end of the day, it’s moments like this — simple, shared moments with you — that matter the most.

As the two of you head back toward the Andretti garage, Logan can’t help but think about how far he’s come. From the chaos of that first season in Formula 1, the heartbreak of being dropped, to the wild success of his time in IndyCar, and now, back in the sport he loves, with you by his side.

He knows there will be more challenges ahead — there always are in this world. But for now, he’s content to focus on the here and now, on the love he’s found and the life he’s building with you.

And as you walk together through the paddock, the sun casting long shadows on the ground, Logan can’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Not because of the cars, or the fame, or even the victories, but because of you — because you’re the one thing in his life that makes all the twists and turns worth it.

And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wall of sound that crashes against Logan as he stands on top of the podium. His hands grip the trophy tightly, the cold metal grounding him as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s done it. Logan Sargeant, the kid from Florida who almost lost everything, is now the World Drivers’ Champion.

The first American to do so since Mario Andretti himself.

He’s fought hard for this moment, clawed his way back from the brink of obscurity, and now here he is, at the pinnacle of motorsport. The champagne sprays around him, but all Logan can focus on is the sight of you, beaming up at him from the edge of the podium. You’re standing beside Mario, who’s wearing a grin as wide as Logan’s ever seen. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands clasped together, eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and joy.

He barely registers the other drivers beside him, the interviews, or the flashes of cameras. Everything narrows to you and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. You’ve been there through it all, from the moment he took that leap of faith into IndyCar, to the sleepless nights before his first season back in Formula 1. Every high and every low has led to this, and you’ve never wavered.

Logan can’t help the way his gaze shifts slightly to the left, where James Vowles stands at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a tightness to his expression, a bitterness that Logan recognizes all too well.

But as much as he’d love to revel in that small victory, he finds that he doesn’t care. Not really. The vindication is sweet, sure, but it pales in comparison to the sight of you and the emotions radiating from you like the warmest of suns.

You notice him looking at you, and you blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it, holding it to his chest. There’s no place he’d rather be than right here, right now, with you by his side.

The ceremony starts to wrap up, and as the photographers move in closer for shots, Logan can see Mario nudging you forward. You’re waving your hands at your grandfather, as if to say no, you’re fine where you are, but Mario’s having none of it. The mechanics and team members part to let you through, and Logan watches with an ever-growing smile as you finally make your way up onto the podium.

When you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms without hesitation, lifting you off your feet as the crowd goes wild. He spins you around, feeling the way you cling to him, your laughter ringing out in his ear.

“You did it,” you say when he finally sets you down, your voice thick with emotion.

“No,” Logan corrects, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We did it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your eyes glisten. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” Logan teases, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I really do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mario clearing his throat, and Logan turns to see him holding a bottle of champagne, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Now, are we celebrating or what?”

Logan laughs, grabbing the bottle and popping the cork, spraying the contents over you and Mario, who both shout in surprise. The rest of the team quickly follows suit, and soon, the podium is a chaotic mess of laughter, champagne, and pure, unfiltered joy.

As the celebrations continue around him, Logan takes a step back, watching the scene unfold. His heart swells with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before. He’s always been driven, always had his eyes set on the next goal, the next race, the next win. But standing here, with you by his side, he realizes that he’s found something even more important than all of that.

He’s found a home.

A family.

And he’s never letting go.

The night carries on in a blur of congratulatory hugs, media obligations, and team celebrations. But as the crowd starts to thin and the energy begins to mellow, Logan finds himself sitting on the edge of the podium, his legs dangling off the side. The cool night air brushes against his skin, the sounds of the city in the distance providing a soft backdrop to the dwindling celebrations.

You find him there, sitting in silence, and without a word, you join him. You lean into his side, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“It’s still sinking in,” Logan admits after a while. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth. “You’ve earned it, Logan. Every single bit of it. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nods, resting his chin on top of your head. “It just feels … surreal. Like I’m living in a dream.”

“Well, if this is a dream,” you say, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “then it’s one I never want to wake up from.”

Logan chuckles softly, his heart swelling with affection. “You and me both.”

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, watching as the final remnants of the celebration begin to fade. The stadium lights dim, and the night sky takes over, a blanket of stars twinkling above you. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and Logan can’t help but feel grateful for this quiet moment with you.

“I used to think winning was everything,” Logan says after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. “That nothing else mattered as long as I crossed the finish line first.”

“And now?” You ask, your tone gentle, inviting him to continue.

“Now I know that it’s not just about the win,” Logan replies, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s about the journey. The people who stand by you, who lift you up when you’re down, who make the victories sweeter and the losses bearable. It’s about finding something worth fighting for, and never letting go of it.”

You smile, your fingers intertwining with his. “Sounds like you’ve learned a lot.”

Logan nods, turning his head to look at you. “I have. And it’s all because of you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Not at all,” Logan says, his voice firm. “You’ve been my rock, my anchor. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

You look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Logan …”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice gentle yet unwavering. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You don’t respond with words; instead, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss filled with promises, with unspoken words, and with a love that has grown stronger with every challenge, every victory, every moment shared.

When you finally pull away, Logan rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his heart full. “I love you,” he whispers, the words carrying the weight of all he feels.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as soft, just as full of emotion.

The world fades away as the two of you sit there, wrapped up in each other. Logan knows that there will be more challenges ahead, more races to win, more obstacles to overcome. But as long as he has you by his side, he knows that he can face anything.

Because, in the end, it’s not just about the racing. It’s about the people who make it all worthwhile.

And for Logan Sargeant, that person is you.

As the night deepens and the city quiets, Logan realizes that this is just the beginning. The beginning of a new chapter, a new journey, with you right beside him. And whatever the future holds, he knows one thing for certain:

He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

And with you, he’s already won.

[fastandcarlos]

Daddy The Hero : ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

summary: unable to put your daughter to rest, you rely on logan to step in with the magic of dad to save the day

“Logan, are you free?” You called downstairs where you knew Logan was sat watching the next part of the series that you had been watching. Your frame leant against the wall, too tired to even stand upright anymore as cries continued to echo through the upstairs. 

“Babe?” Logan shouted back, pausing what he was watching before standing up from the sofa. 

You stayed where you were, hearing Logan’s footsteps walking through the house, relieved when you saw the shadow of his figure first before his body appearing at the bottom of the stairs, concerned eyes looking up at you. 

“Everything alright?” He questioned, already knowing the answer before he even asked his question. 

Your head shook as a dejected sigh escaped from you. “I feel like I’ve done everything I can to get her to go to sleep, but nothing’s working.” 

The frustration in your voice was clear for Logan as a sympathetic smile appeared on his face. You always offered to do the night routine whilst Logan relaxed after his busy days but tonight you were just about running on empty. 

“Can you come and see if you can do anything? Please. I’m at a loss,” you asked, relieved as Logan immediately made his way up the stairs, forgetting all about what he was watching before. 

If there was one thing you adored about your relationship with Logan it was how well you worked as a team, particularly after having your daughter too. When one of you was struggling, the other stepped in and made sure that you both felt well supported. 

“What’s going on?” Logan smiled as he followed you into your daughter’s bedroom, noticing her sat up with a wide grin on her face. 

“I’m going to go and tidy up the bathroom, give me a shout if you need me,” you told Logan, pressing a kiss against his cheek. 

He hummed in response, taking a seat beside your daughter’s bedroom. “I’m sure we’ll be alright; you take it easy for a while sweetheart.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at how calm Logan’s voice was, if he needed to stay up all night with your daughter then he would, he’d do anything to make life easier for you. 

“What’s going on baby?” Logan asked, brushing his hand through her hair as her small frame turned so that she was facing him. “You know you should be asleep right now.” 

“I want to stay up with you and mummy,” your daughter argued. 

“You can’t,” Logan gently giggled, “mummy and daddy are grown-ups which means we get to stay up just a little bit later than you.” 

“It’s not fair,” she huffed, her sassy attitude beginning to show itself. 

Logan knew your daughter’s attitude was directly inherited from you. It was like dealing with a mini version of you sometimes with how well your daughter could outsmart him with her comebacks and jibes. 

“What about if I stay here with you until you fall asleep?” Logan offered, keen to get her to sleep as quickly as he could. “We can have some daddy and daughter time?” 

“Yeah, let’s do that,” she smiled. 

Logan nudged your daughter along her bed, making room for him to just about squeeze his tall frame into the bed with her. She immediately snuggled into Logan’s side, allowing his arm to wrap around her and pull her as close to him as he could. 

“How’s that?” Logan asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The giggle that came from her was all that Logan needed to know that your daughter was much happier now. Logan fell quiet, keeping his eyes on your daughter as he watched her eyes flutter shut, hopeful that was how they’d stay for the rest of the night. 

After finishing up in the bathroom, you crept into your daughter’s room to check in on how they were getting on. Logan’s eyes flickered across as soon as he saw you, giving you a thumbs up in the darkness of the room to let you know that she had finally fallen asleep. 

Slowly, Logan sat himself up, sliding your daughter down off of his arm. He thought he’d got away with it, but soon enough her eyes darted open and looked over in panic when she realised where Logan was going. 

“It’s alright, go back to sleep darling,” Logan whispered, feeling her grip tighten. 

“Don’t leave me daddy,” she groaned, kicking her legs against the mattress of her bed. 

“Come on sweetheart, it’s time for me and mummy to get some rest,” Logan tried his best to explain to her, but she was having none of it, digging her heels, and her hands in stubbornly. 

Logan’s eyes looked between you and your daughter, reminding himself of just how exhausted you were. You kept staring across at them as your daughter remained strong, refusing to let Logan go as he tried his best to carry on sliding away from her. 

“I’ll stay here for the night,” Logan told the two of you. 

“A-are you sure?” You asked him, drawn to the difference in size between Logan and the bed that your daughter slept in. “You’re going to do yourself an injury Lo.” 

His head shook, “I don’t mind, if it means you get a peaceful sleep for the night, then it’s worth it.” 

After a little bit more persuading, Logan encouraged you to head to bed, leaving him in with your daughter. She was beyond excited to have Logan stay, falling asleep almost in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the man who spent the night beside her. 

Before you even saw Logan the following morning you could hear his groans coming down the stairs. Every muscle seemed to ache from where he had squeezed himself in, unable to move out of fear of rolling either out of the bed or onto your daughter. 

Your teasing smile was wide as Logan appeared in the living room, throwing himself down on the sofa and stretching his body out for the first time in hours, full of relief. 

Your eyes kept watching him, unable to hold back your laugther. Logan shot a glare across at you as he sat himself up with a shake of his head. 

“Did you have a good sleep?” You jokingly quizzed. 

“Never again,” he huffed, running his hands over his face. “Next time I offer to sleep in her bed, please slap me across the face.” 

“Do you mean that?” You laughed, “because you know that I will take great delight in doing that.” 

“That was awful,” he complained, nodding in response. 

Despite how much it hurt, it was a relief for Logan to look across at you and see you full of energy again. The night’s sleep you had was exactly what you needed to feel like yourself once more, and although he’d suffered, Logan was pleased to see it. 

“I do appreciate you stepping in last night, I know how busy you are too,” you told him, your laughter turning into a wide smile. 

“We’re a team,” he reminded you, “I’m always going to step up and help, I’m her dad after all. Plus, I think I happen to be a pretty cool husband at the same time too.” 

Your eyes rolled as Logan smugly smiled back across at you. “Oh, trust me, you’re the best husband ever,” you assured. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lovings4turn]

୧ ‧₊˚ ☕️ ⋅ ☆ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭…

— in desperate need of caffeine, logan stumbles into the first cafe he comes across. little does he know, this will be the start of something great.

+ the first part of my whole latte love series , aka my child , so i hope you all enjoy <3 this is set in the uk , but reader isn't specified to be any particular nationality !

+ dividers from benkeibear !!

there were many sacrifices logan sargeant was willing to make in his life.

flying halfway across the world aged only eleven to pursue his dream of racing, for one. on a smaller scale, always allowing his brother dalton to ride shotgun on family trips, despite the fact that the backseat caused his legs to cramp up after a few hours.

but, no matter how late he was running, logan had promised himself he would never, ever deprive his body of a hot, caffeinated beverage before a meeting. 

on this particular morning, though, logan was running especially late. normally, the jarring sound of the iphone alarm would snap him from his deep sleep within seconds, the noise sparking an instant feeling of dread within him even when it wasn't coming from his phone. 

he’d learned that alex had a habit of setting alarms for various things throughout the day, before promptly forgetting what he’d set it for, leaving logan to go through the five stages of grief at least four times a weekend. 

but it seemed today the universe had been a little bored, and so decided to find entertainment in burdening a poor, unsuspecting american race car driver with one minor inconvenience after another. 

firstly, his alarm hadn't woken him up. correction: it had woken him up, just thirty minutes after it was supposed to.

secondly, his pride in managing to get dressed with an impressive five minutes to spare was quickly dissipated when he couldn't find his keys or wallet. the hunt had set him back another ten minutes (because why on earth would he think to check the cutlery drawer until he had run out of other possible options?).

and, for good measure, he'd tripped over his own welcome mat in his mad dash out of his apartment. so, yeah, it had been a morning, to put it lightly.

logan cursed to himself as he all but jogged down the busy street, eyes desperately scanning every building he passed in search of a cafe. he was too frantic to read any shop signs, but when he witnessed two girls walking out of a doorway clutching two paper cups, he knew he'd struck gold.

fucking finally.

logan offered the pair a tight lipped smile as he slipped past them and into the cafe, letting a sigh of relief escape his lips as the familiar smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee hit him. 

this was more than worth being late for, he decided. he'd pick up a few extra coffees, as an apology, a courtesy of some kind. who could be mad with a cup of coffee in their hand? though logan figured he was allowed to be a little lax in his timings anyways, since he was no longer in his rookie year at williams. the team would forgive him quick enough.

trainer-clad feet led him towards the back of the fairly short queue leading up to the counter, and logan took the opportunity to slip his phone out from his coat pocket and shoot a quick text to alex. he hoped his teammate wouldn’t mind bearing the responsibility of updating the rest of the team on his whereabouts. 

‘sorry, overslept. omw now though, bringing coffee as an apology and effort to keep my head’.

three laughing emojis quickly flared up onto logan’s lockscreen, and he took that as a positive sign. 

it was only when logan placed his phone back into his pocket that he realised just how close he was to the front of the line, and immediately began rehearsing his order. sure, he ordered the same thing practically every single time he got coffee, but with the day he was having, he’d probably find a way to absolutely butcher the simple order.

all he needed was his oat milk latte, a black coffee for james, and some sort of sugary, overly sweet concoction for alex. he doubted this place sold the pumpkin spiced lattes that he loved to tease alex about ordering, so he’d just have to find the next best thing.

only, when he finally stepped up to the counter and opened his mouth to order, his mind went blank.

standing only a few feet in front of him was the most gorgeous person logan had ever seen, and considering he’d travelled the world and met countless different women and men over the years, that was an impressive achievement. 

you, luckily, hadn’t noticed the internal reboot logan was experiencing, and focused instead on offering him a warm smile and greeting.

“morning! what can i get for you today?” you asked, finger poised and ready to input his order into the till in front of you.

logan barely managed to stop himself from physically shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, before pasting a crooked grin of his own onto his lips.

“good morning,” he returned, voice a little quiet before he cleared his throat and spoke up again. “can i just get a large black americano, large oat milk latte, and uh,” logan paused, eyes quickly scanning the board in front of him as he weighed up all of the different syrups available. 

vanilla, caramel, hazelnut, and oh, thank god, cinnamon. that was close enough to pumpkin spice, right?

“and a large cinnamon latte, please. oh, to take out.” he finished, finally returning his eyes to you as you skillfully rang through his order.

“ah, great choice,” you commented, your smile still never having left your lips. 

from the moment he’d opened his mouth, you’d quickly registered the accent, though opted not to comment on it despite how pleasing it was to your ears. of course there were no shortage of americans stepping into the cafe everyday, but there was something about his in particular that caused your ears to perk up a little more. maybe it was down to the person it was attached to, instead. 

“and is that everything for you today?” you continued, snapping back into following what you’d aptly dubbed your ‘service speech’, a routine that ensured you didn't stumble over your words to every customer you served.

“that’s all, yeah.” logan responded with another small smile. 

“perfect. that’ll be nine eighty there.”

"great, thank you."

logan quickly pulled out his phone to pay, though as his eyes caught the small jar sat on the counter, ‘tips’ scrawled onto a label in nice handwriting, he wished he was paying by cash. a flash of hope ran through him as he dug his hand into his jean pocket, and he had never been more relieved to feel some spare change brush against his fingertips. 

barely even bothering to count how much was there – it looked to be about three pounds, but he could have been wrong - logan dropped it into the jar, offering you a sheepish smile. he felt a little foolish, paying by card and fumbling around for some cash, but the look on your face was more than worth it. 

“thank you,” you repeated with a soft laugh. “should be ready for you in two minutes.”

logan couldn’t bring himself to speak again, so simply nodded and moved to walk to the point he would collect his drinks from. before that, though, he would grant himself one, small privilege. 

his eyes quickly found your name badge, and he scanned it as subtly as he could before he walked away, the name replaying over and over in his mind like a broken record. but, no. broken records were annoying, an inconvenience, something to fix or throw out. your name was anything but. 

not even five minutes after he’d placed his order were his drinks placed onto the counter, each labelled appropriately to save for any confusion. a cupholder had also been provided, which logan was eternally grateful for. he didn’t think the three drinks would survive the short journey otherwise. as a treat to himself, he took a small sip from his latte and almost swore. logan didn’t believe in magic, but he was sure that this coffee was somehow laced with it. never had a simple oat latte tasted so good to him.

and, he thought, a little embarrassingly, never had someone looked so good making one, either. 

“see you later!” you called from behind the till, lifting your hand in a gesture that could be perceived as a wave, but also an attempt to smooth your hair a little. 

logan nodded and gave you a smile. you would definitely see him later. he had just found his new favourite coffee shop, and he wasn’t going to give it up any time soon.

☕️ . . . there it is , the first instalment !! i loved writing this so much - and actually did so with a cinnamon iced latte of my own , as alex and i are actually one and the same ! hope you all enjoyed , and thank you for reading <3

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Doing Their Makeup

♥ masterlist

♥ headcannons: lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris, and logan sargeant

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: a little bit suggestive !!!

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴇᴡɪs ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ - There is not an ounce of toxic masculinity in his body so when you asked to do his makeup he immediately let you. He most likely had some Mercedes PR that day which put his look on display. The fans weren't able to shut up about how glowy his skin was. After this Lewis asked you to do some colorful eye makeup for him whenever he showed up to the paddock (matching the colors of his outfit of course).

ᡣ𐭩 ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀsᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ - I have a feeling he uses a 3 in 1 soap on his face but has the most flawless skin. This meant that he never felt the need to use any makeup or skin care. After you introduced him to a few products like primer, cleansers, and oils he really got into it. As for a standard face of cosmetics he doesn't like the feeling of foundation or eye products. He'll let you practice on his face but the minute you're done he washes it all off.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇs ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ - He didn't mind getting his makeup done by you considering he was so used to it when doing promo pictures. After a while he'll start requesting that you practice on him because he loves how the brushes feel on his skin. He's also an absolute sucker for a lip butter or gloss.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀsᴛʀɪ - Oscar loves that no make up make up look and probably has a few products of his own! He'll definitely let you teach him things like why setting your makeup is important or the difference between contour and bronzer. He also absolutely adores doing face masks and really any sort of skin care with you.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs - He wasn't really up for the idea of you practicing new makeup techniques on him but he gave in when you offered to sit on his lap as you did it. He'd buck his hips into yours not realizing that it would totally backfire on him later. The more he teased you the more you wanted revenge. You purposely messed up and smudged the products across his face just to make him look as ridiculous as possible.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴏɢᴀɴ sᴀʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ - Alex invited you to do Logan's make up before a team torque episode just to see how he'd respond. Logan was enjoying it much more than he thought he would, but who was surprised that he loved being pampered? It was difficult to spread any foundation on his face due to his stubble but you didn't mind because he looked too good with it.

[maxlarens]

53) holding the other’s jaw + logan

this is to make up for what i wrote last night viv hope u like ittt 😋🫢😌 @coff33andb00ks

You meet Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant in a dive bar in Austin, Texas and you don’t know if you have the heart to tell him that you’re in Austin specifically for the Grand Prix.

It’s cute that he assumes you don’t recognise him, it’s even cuter that he tells you he drives race cars and then assumes you still don’t know he’s an F1 driver. It’s a little sad maybe— especially when Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan are sitting in a booth across the room, trying and failing to take surreptitious glances at the two of you. But you’re trying not to think about that, probably as much as Logan also is right now.

You’re leaning with your back up against the bar drinking a vodka whatever, he’s standing in front of you. Ostensibly in line to get a drink, but he hasn’t stopped talking to you since you almost bowled him over trying to get back to your friends. There’s no drink in his hand that’s for sure, just an empty beer glass that he’s bringing back. You think that’s unbearably sweet— well, no, actually you think that’s hot.

You’re not the kind of person who’s into Formula One for the drivers. You’re into it because instead of watching football games like every other all-American family did, your dad used to sit in front of the TV every weekend to watch twenty men drive around a track. You’d grown up on the sport; the roar of the cars before they hybridised them, old-school turn names, fiery crashes ending in tragedy, the blood sweat and tears of teammate rivalry. Your dad complains that the sport has changed too much— but still he puts the races on every weekend.

You try to watch the sport for the cars, for the racing, but at the end of the day, you’re not immune to a cute guy. You follow most of them on Instagram (except the drivers you hate), find yourself smiling at promo videos and liking pictures that have nothing to do with the sport. Your dad is annoying about it, but you don’t care.

You especially don’t care when Logan Sargeant is smiling something crooked at you as he tells you he’s here with his friends. You nod, looking where he’s pointing, where you’ve already seen Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan, you laugh a little, giggle really, and you lean toward him.

Deliberately.

“Yeah,” you take a sip through your straw, maintaining eye contact, “I know who you are, Logan.”

He goes red immediately. Pale cheeks turning a very pleasant colour. You lick your lips, lean back against the bar. He blinks his sparkling wet eyes at you, mouth gaping like a fish out of water for a moment before he snaps it shut and scrubs a hand across his stubbly beard.

“Oh— I—”

You wave his shock off, barrelling on to avoid anything awkward for him, “Sorry, should’ve told you.”

“No,” he shakes his head, apparently desperate to make it fine, to make it okay, “You’re good. I just— I didn’t expect someone so—”

He trails off, trying to start the sentence again. But you’re intrigued, very intrigued.

You cut him off, not rude, just insistent, leaning forward into his space, “What was that? Finish your sentence.”

His eyebrows go up in a flash. The blush on his cheeks grows a little more prominent. He’s biting down a little on a smile, on something.

“I—”, he flounders for words for a minute, you give him that minute in silence but you’re staring at him, a little fiery, a little intense, “I didn’t expect someone so,” he stops, whines something a little desperate, quiet enough that you’re not supposed to hear it, “cute, I guess. To know who I was.”

“You guess?”

He nods, slowly. Getting braver as he leans past you, deliberately getting in your space to put his empty glass on the bar behind you. You’re trying not to smile, you’re biting down on the inside of your lip so the biggest grin you’ve probably ever grinned can’t split across your face.

“Yeah, I guess.”

This is how you end up in a dark corner booth with Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant. This is how you end up making out with Formula One driver Logan Sargeant. You’re halfway in his lap, your legs a weird tangle as you try to fit yourselves into the space. But you’re hardly thinking about his knee digging into you or how you’re slipping off the seat every five seconds because Logan’s got a hand buried deep in your hair and another on your waist. His hand splayed against your back, a few fingers touching the bare skin at your hip.

He tastes like beer and ketchup and he kisses you like he’s starving. It’s slow, it’s deliberate but the slip of tongue and the way your mouths slide against each other is intoxicating. Makes your head feel fuzzy.

You’ve got a hand on the side of his jaw, the crook of your thumb hooked on his ear, fingertips pressing into his neck, the base of his skull. He tries to pull away from you— ostensibly to breathe, to say something. But you’re a little desperate, chasing his mouth and bringing your other hand up to his jaw to drag him back.

You feel him laugh a little into your mouth.

“What?”, you mutter, eyes closed, still kissing him, "Finish your sentence."

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, you feel his mouth move against yours as he speaks, hot breath fanning across your jaw, “Just. Do you maybe wanna get out of here?”

And this is how you end up in Formula One driver Logan Sargeant’s hotel room.

this is probably the most bordering on nsfw content that i will venture to in my writing just a heads up for people:)

[linaslivery]

౨ৎ PLAYING FAVORITES ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Oscar’s daughter has favorites. And sadly, he isn’t one of hers, in fact her favorite happens to be her favorite American, Logan. He says it’s fine and that he doesn’t care… but actions speak louder than words.

PAIRING ౨ৎ Not really a pairing, but reader makes multiple apperances 🩵

WARNINGS ౨ৎ Sadie being a menace

A/N ౨ৎ got requested more sadie, the more sadie you shall receive. i was writing this before the logan news and i’m absolutely distraught. i decided to start from the group up and include logan to feel a bit better hurt ❤️‍🩹

Part of the Dad Oscar mini-series 🩵

“Sadie, are you ready to see Dad drive fast?” You asked, adjusting her little McLaren cap as I held her hand to the garage.

“No.” Sadie says bluntly in her toddler way, her lips forming a small pout as she clutched the tiny stuffed koala Oscar had bought her from her a year ago from Australia.

You couldn’t help but blink at her straightforwardness, crouching down to be at eye level with her. “No? Not even to cheer him on?”

Sadie shook her head with determination. “No. Wanna see Logan.”

Sadie’s pout deepened, and she hugged her koala closer to her chest. “Logan’s funny.”

“Yes, he is. But you know who else is funny? Daddy. Remember when he made silly faces during breakfast?” You suggested.

Sadie tilted her head, considering this for a moment, before shaking her head again. “Logan’s funnier.”

Before you could respond, you heard footsteps approaching, and there was Oscar, already in his race suit, with a forced grin on his face, clearly overheard the conversation. “Hey, little miss,” he greeted giving a kiss on your cheek before crouching down beside you and holding out his arms for a hug.

Sadie looked at him for a moment, then back at you, before finally deciding to toddle over and give him a quick hug. It was short, sweet, but not as enthusiastic as the ones she usually reserved for Logan recently.

Oscar’s smile faltered for just a second, but he quickly recovered, lifting her up in his arms. “Guess I’ll have to up my game if I want to be the favorite, huh?” he teased, though there was a trace of something more behind his words.

“Daddy’s funny,” Sadie said, almost as if she was trying to console him.

“Yeah?” Oscar’s eyes lit up with hope, but Sadie quickly added, “But Logan’s funnier.”

You winced, but Oscar just laughed it off, giving her a playful tickle. “Well, Logan better watch out then, because I’m coming for his title.”

This was going to be a long day for Oscar.

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

The buzz of the McLaren garage was background noise to Oscar as he watched his Sadie, toddle around with a bright smile on her face. It was a year after her first ever Grand Prix… and safe to say you and Oscar have definitely learned a lot from it. Normally, her little smile would make his heart swell with pride, but today, it was bittersweet. The reason? Logan Sargeant was the source of her joy, not him.

Logan, Logan, Logan. that was the name coming out of her mouth the past month.

Sadie had been enamored with Logan since the first time she was born. Who wouldn’t when their godfather was her dad’s best friend who happened to have the same job?

She would light up at the sight of him, smiling at every chance she could excitedly in her toddler way, always eager to be scooped up into his arms. And Logan, the ever-charming American, was more than happy to oblige.

Oscar leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Logan lifted Sadie into the air, eliciting giggles that echoed around the garage. He tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him. So what if Sadie liked Logan more? It wasn’t a competition. He was her father, not Logan. Surely she likes him more.

…

Right?

“Hey, mate. You good?” Lando’s voice snapped Oscar out of his thoughts. His teammate had appeared beside him, eyebrow raised in concern.

Oscar forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

Lando followed his gaze to where Logan was now letting Sadie play with his cap, much to her delight. “Looks like someone’s got a new best friend.”

Oscar’s smile faltered slightly. “Yeah… guess she does.”

Lando didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in Oscar’s voice. “You know she still loves you, right? Kids go through phases.”

“I know, I know,” Oscar replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he rolls his eyes. “It’s just… I didn’t think I’d be playing second fiddle to Logan, of all people.”

Lando chuckled. “Well, at least she has good taste. Logan is fun… in his weird American way. Baseball, football, hotdogs and stuff like that. But you’re still her dad… no one can take that from you.”

Oscar nodded, though his eyes were still glued to the scene in front of him. Logan was now teaching Sadie how to high-five, her little hand smacking against his with enthusiasm. The sight should’ve made Oscar laugh, but instead, it made him feel… left out.

“Maybe,” Oscar said quietly, “…but sometimes it feels like I’m just not enough for her.”

Lando looked at him, surprised by the admission. “Oscar, she’s a 2-year-old. It’s not about you being enough or not. She just likes Logan because he’s fun and new. Trust me, when she needs comfort, when she’s upset or scared, it’s you she’ll run to.”

“Did you indirectly call me old and boring?”

“You know what I meant!”

Oscar wanted to believe that, but watching Sadie beam up at Logan made it hard. He knew he was being irrational, that he shouldn’t let a child’s innocent preferences get to him, but the sting was still there.

“…Zak is calling me over.” Lando gave a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he spots the CEO waving a hand over. “Just keep what I said in mind. She loves you Oscar. Sadie’s just happy to see a face she rarely sees. Good luck in quali, yeah?”

Oscar nodded as Lando walked away, but his focus was still on Sadie and Logan. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—jealous of his best friend, of all people. It was silly, really, but he couldn’t shake it.

As the preparations for Qualifications continued, the garage was abuzz with activity. Oscar was trying to get back into the right mindset when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“You look deep in thought,” You said, coming up beside him with a warm smile.

Oscar turned to her, managing a half-hearted smile. “Just thinking. You know how it is.”

Your eyes followed his gaze to where Sadie and Logan were now playing with a small toy car. “She seems to be having a blast with Logan.”

Oscar sighed. “Yeah, she’s been obsessed with him lately. It’s like I’m invisible.”

Your expression softened. You wrapped an arm around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not invisible, Oscar. Kids can be unpredictable. Logan’s just the new fun thing right now. It doesn’t change how much she loves you.”

Oscar looked at you, the weight of your words hitting him. “I know you’re right. I just hate feeling like I’m second place.”

“Oscar,” You said, lifting his chin with a gentle touch. “Sadie is 2 years-old. I think you need to remember that Sadie’s attachment to Logan doesn’t diminish her love for you. She’s just interested in her godfather she rarely sees. If anything, it just means she’s comfortable with the people around her, and that’s a good thing. Remember how she went from hating everything Lando did in the free practices to loving him at the end of the day? It’s the same thing. You’re her dad, and that’s a role no one else can fill.”

Oscar took a deep breath, letting your words sink in. Your gentle touch and reassuring smile helped ease the knot of insecurity that had settled in his chest. He glanced back at Sadie and Logan, and the sight of his daughter’s unrestrained joy started to warm his heart, even if the jealousy still lingered a bit.

The buzz of the garage continued around you both, and Oscar gave a thoughtful exhale, a much needed one. “Thank you, lovely. I guess I needed that.”

You gave him a soft smile, then glanced over at Sadie. “Logan might be fun for her at the moment, but remember that she’ll always be the one calling you dad.”

Oscar’s lips curved into a grin at your comment.

Yeah. Dad does sound pretty nice.

“Dad!”

[formulafics]

★ BABY, JUST SAY YES | LS2

Scenario: its no secret that logan sargent isn’t single, but one thing that no one can quite figure out - not even his co workers - is who the mystery girl is. logan doesn’t reveal who until she’s no longer his girlfriend, but his wife. (requested)

Pairing: logan sargeant x fem!popstar!reader

A/N: it’s taken me 4 days of writers block to get this one figured out, but she is finally here! i hope everyone enjoys! <3

logansargeant

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and 233,567 others

logansargeant the flight is always worth it to be with her

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sargeantformula another day, another soft launch from logan 😔 when does the pain end?

logansgirl HE LOOKS SO GOOD

formulogan so either logan plays guitar or his gf plays guitar 🧐

⤷ norizzlando i thought that i could figure out something by looking at the music sheets but it’s beatles songs, and i doubt logan is dating paul mccartney

⤷ alexalbonooo23 STOP IT FHIS COMMENT IS KILLING ME 😭 “i doubt logan is dating paul mccartney”

logansargeant

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, and 356,789 others

logansargeant summer dump

view all 3,457 comments

alex_albon getting a little to close to using @/georgerussels tactics

rizzciardo logan pls just tell us who it is 😔 do it for your fans

⤷ norrisnation DO IT FOR AMERICA

formulaobssesed why is logan kinda…

⤷ sargeantformula YOURE JUST LEARNING THIS? HES BEEN FINE

sargeantnation THE FIRST PICTURE HELLO YOU LOOK SO GOOD

ls2sargeant okay, but WHO is in the second picture? 😭

logansargeant

in love

liked by alex_albon, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 124,678 others

logansargeant

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formulanorris the location being “in love” is sickening

⤷ piastrizz no literally i want want what him and his gf have

williamillion ITS NOT FUNNY ANYMORE LOGAN

godblessls2 boy if you don’t just drop her @ rn

loscargirlie logan you wanna drop her @ sooooo bad rn

logansargeant and ynlnsargeant

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 467,892 others

logansargeant so glad my baby said yes. happy one year, my beautiful girl.

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ynsworld LOGAN IN RHE MIDDLE OF YNA FUCK I G CONCERT???

oscarpiastri happy anniversary ❤️

⤷ rizzciardo loscar crumbs 🥹 i love them

alex_albon happy anniversary! love you guys.

formulasargeant LOGAN WHAT????

piastrizz LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT I SWEAR TO GOD

ynfannacc the caption. not okay, young man.

⤷ godblessls2 LMAOO THIS COMMENT IS SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON

rizzciardo the mesh of logan and yn fans in the comments is so funny to me 😭

loscargirlie I KNOW I BEGGED YOU MULTIPLE TIMES TO DROP THE @ BUT COME ON LOGAN

ynlnsargeant

liked by logansargeant, lewishamilton, alex_albon, landonorris, and 789,367 others

ynlnsargeant what a night. thank you to everyone who came out tonight, i am so grateful for your support. on a side note, happy anniversary to my love, @/logansargeant. one year down, forever to go. 🫶🏻

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logansargeant i love you so much baby.

⤷ ynlnsargeant i love you more. thanks for coming out tonight ❤️

ynsguitar the end of an era - she changed her username

⤷ ynloverforlife ITS SO CUTE 😭 she and logan are actually so cute together i can’t even be sad

ynsworld simultaneously extremely happy for you and feeling like my heart has been ripped out. ilysm </3

ynsnumberone i cannot believe i witnessed this kiss in real time

⤷ formulasargeant i have no idea how you survived because me personally? that would be the end

danielricciardo NO WAY. happy anniversary!

⤷ rizzciardo DANIEL WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE LMAO

⤷ sargeantformula apparently only oscar, lando, and alex knew about their relationship. oscar was the only one who went to the wedding 💔 (not to mention daniel has always liked yn’s music)

all feedback is appreciated! thank you for reading <3 - daelynn

general taglist | @renarots (special shoutout to her for always fueling the brainrot for these fics) @jsjcue @treehouse-mouse @harrysdimple05 @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @minkyungseokie

[faithsmadhouse]

Congratulations faith!! You absolutely deserve 1k!

Could I get Logan and fem reader and 🍓? He deserves some softness

Still my champion||Logan Sargeant x fem!reader

Summary—After being replaced in Formula 1, Logan returns home emotionally wrecked and weighed down by feelings of failure.

Warnings — praise soft sex riding sad Logan

Word count—587

A/n— AHHHH!!! thank you so much also this is my first Logan fic In months i really missed my American boy.

The door shut softly behind him.

You barely heard it over the quiet hum of the kettle, but the shift in the air told you he was home before his voice even reached you. Not that he said much—just a tired, barely-there “Hey,” as he dropped his bag by the wall and kicked off his shoes.

You turned from the kitchen slowly, watching him like something fragile. Logan looked… worn. Not just tired. Worn down. Like something had been stripped from him and he was still trying to figure out what was left.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, drying your hands on a dish towel.

His eyes met yours for a second. Then he looked away, jaw clenched.

You crossed the room, reaching for him. “Logan—”

“It’s okay.” His voice cracked slightly. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He tried to pass you, but you stepped in his way gently and slid your arms around him. His body was tense at first, locked down with shame and defeat, but when you whispered his name again, softer this time—he broke.

He collapsed into you like a man finally letting go, burying his face in your neck as his arms pulled you in tight.

“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I tried so fucking hard. And it still wasn’t enough.”

“Don’t say that,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair.

“It’s true.”

You cupped his face and forced him to look at you. “You are enough, Logan. Always.”

His eyes brimmed with tears, and the wall cracked again. You kissed his cheek, then his temple, then his lips—slow and warm and patient. Not trying to rush him. Just holding him in all the places that had been hurting.

“I hate how it ended,” he whispered.

“I know.” You kissed his jaw. “But it doesn’t define you.”

“I feel like I let everyone down.”

“You didn’t let me down.” Your voice trembled. “You could never.”

Something shifted then—something tender and aching and real.

He kissed you again, this time a little deeper, a little needier. His hands found your hips like he was grounding himself in you, pulling you close until there was no space left between you.

“You still want me?” he asked quietly.

Your heart broke a little. “God, yes. Always.”

You took his hand and led him to the couch, the fire flickering low behind you as you sank into it together. Clothes came off slowly, without urgency. This wasn’t about distraction. This was about reassurance.

You straddled his lap, guiding him inside you with a soft gasp, and the look on his face—the way his eyes fluttered shut, the way he exhaled like he was finally breathing again—told you he needed this as much as he needed air.

You moved slowly, rocking your hips, pressing kisses to his lips, his cheek, his neck.

“You’re still my champion,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over his brow. “Even if the world doesn’t see it.”

His hands gripped your waist tighter, overwhelmed.

“You’re strong. You’re kind. You never gave up, even when they made it impossible.”

He let out a broken moan, forehead against yours.

“I’m so proud of you, Logan.”

That did it—he groaned your name, hips bucking up into you, and you held him as he fell apart, as he clung to you like he’d lose himself if he let go.

When you both stilled, panting and wrapped up in each other, you kissed the top of his head and whispered, “You’re home now. And I’ve got you.”

[lesbiannieism]

loscar fic where logan’s middle aged retired drivers fanclub notice that logan and oscar are so whipped for each other and become very invested in helping them get together. oscar’s old man fanclub (mark and fernando) also get involved, which could go one of two ways. either it’s a typical getting together story but it’s narrated by the older drivers like they’re a pantheon of gods watching the lives of mortals for amusement OR the old men take sides and it devolves into a pseudo fanwar with faction leaders jenson button and mark webber and loscar are chill about the whole thing but the older drivers make everything out to be way more dramatic than it is

[chilling-seavey]

Land of Hope and Glory (ls2)

↳ Timeless: F1 Grid Masterlist

↳ Summary: As the son of a governor, Logan's life is meticulously planned out for him. Yet all he wants to do is be like the other young men paving their own ways in the new century.

↳ Title Song: Land of Hope and Glory by Edna Thornton (1902)

↳ Word Count: 1.4k

↳ A/N: Oh I'm so excited for this lil series! Starting off strong with Logan <3 

↳ Warnings: Mentions of societal divide accurate to the time period (Logan's family has servants), mentions of a controlling father, and a very brief mention of child abuse.  

May 1902

Logan always felt small in the shadow of his father’s looming portrait. It hung on the wall of the wood paneled office in their Florida mansion, above the crackling fireplace and peering down menacingly at any visitors that sat opposite the governor at his home desk. 

Governor Sargeant ran his home like a tight ship, not unlike the way he ruled his elected land, and he held his two sons to impeccable standards. Both would follow in his footsteps into politics and use their platforms as hope to Floridians for the new century. It was now the 20th century, of course, and they were to be ahead of the field in all aspects, striving to make Florida a state as strong and substantial as any of the others. 

Despite this fate that he had been given upon birth, Logan resented every ounce of it. He hated the rulings his father took, hated the conservative outlook on society and life, and frankly, would rather contract scarlet fever than have to stomach politics for his own lifelong career. And yet, there Logan sat, beside his brother and opposite his father in his home office, listening to him drawl on about this or that.

Logan couldn’t stop staring at the portrait above his father’s head; his likeness having this unsettling stare about him that perfectly mimicked his real-life counterpart. Portrait paintings nowadays were truly ahead of their time. 

The brothers were soon released by their father for lunch, during which the servants would bring them full meals on fine china in the dining room. While his brother headed to wash up and his father stayed behind to reply to some letters, Logan slipped into the kitchen undetected. 

The cramped kitchen was bustling with chefs and servants; so many people just to serve and cater to a family of four. Logan stayed out of the way as he navigated his way along the wall and ducked under the arm of one of the chefs when he passed by.

“Master Logan, what are you doin’ in here again?”

Logan straightened up, caught, at the sound of the lead housemaid’s voice. He turned on his toes to face her, dropping his hands on the edge of the stone island with a sigh of submission and, yet, that cheeky smile stayed ever present on his face. 

“Why, simply looking for you, Miss Ada,” Logan buttered her up, tilting his head sweetly in the direction of the older woman.

Ada, a short and stout middle aged woman with hair like salt and pepper that was peeking out from beneath her white uniform bonnet, tried to keep a serious expression as she prepared the rolls for lunch. She shot a glare in Logan’s direction that didn’t quite meet her eyes and, even still, her lips played into a small smile as she arranged the homemade rolls in their basket, “You’re gonna get yourself in a whole lotta trouble one of these days, boy.”

“Not quite,” Logan protested, cut off as one of the chefs went whizzing past with a hot pot and Logan had to duck to avoid getting hit. When he straightened up again, he rested his forearms against the stone countertop, leaning towards her, and continued, “I know you’re too sweet to go ratting me out to father.”

“Maybe so, but at this rate, your reprimanding won’t be by the likes of me,” she warned. 

Logan reached over to grab a roll out of the basket, right out from under her hand. Before she could grab it back, he had taken a bite. 

“Oh, you!” Ada grabbed the tea towel laying beside her and swatted him with it. “You will spoil your lunch.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Miss Ada,” Logan said through a mouthful of bread, still draped casually over the corner of the counter, “Do you think I may take my lunch for a picnic today?”

Ada’s eyebrows raised. With her age came her wiseness…and her ability to read Logan like a book. She had known him all his years, of course, having even been in the room where he was born and had been his wet nurse for the first year of his life. Logan was most special to the middle-aged housemaid and she often saw him like her own son. 

“A picnic?” she questioned, lifting the basket of bread to bring out through the swinging door to the dining room. 

Logan followed closely behind her like a pleading puppy, unflinching as the noise of the kitchen turned into the eerie silence of his family’s lavishly decorated dining room and he pleaded his case, “Oh, please, Miss Ada, you know how I loath to eat here. And it is such a beautiful day outside and I would love to sit by the ocean and—”

“Master Logan,” Ada turned back to him once the rolls were set on the table. She set her hands on her full hips, right over the ribbons of her apron, “you know your father did not take kindly to you takin’ your lunch out of doors last week.”

Logan, with half a roll balanced between his teeth, clasped his hands together in silent pleading with the kind woman. Yes, Ada might have seen Logan like a son of her own, but Logan, too, saw her like a mother figure; she was everything his mother wasn’t: warm, comforting, maternal. That being said, it only played into the fact that Logan knew just how to wear her down.

With a reluctant sigh, unable to turn down that sweet face of her housemaster’s son, Ada nodded and led the way back into the kitchen, Logan hot on her heels, “Fine, fine. It is your choice, boy. It is your father’s beatin’ you will have to face.”

“Anything will be worth getting out of this house for an afternoon.”

Ada packed him up a picnic lunch in a wicker basket of his own and she sent him on his way. He thanked her with a kiss to her cheek and then he was bolting out the servant’s door into the side yard. 

His bicycle was propped up against the siding of the estate and he stuffed the last bit of the roll into his mouth as he lifted it up onto its two wheels and he slung a leg over. The rickety metal frame creaked underneath his weight as he shifted to make sure the basket was secure on one of the handlebars before he was pushing off in the direction of the road. 

He cut across his family’s neatly manicured lawn, peddling up to top speed as he whizzed past the windows of his father’s office and between palm trees that lined the property. The bike went airborne for just a second as he reached the top of the small embankment up to the main road before it landed expertly onto the roadway. The packed gravel made the bike rattle underneath him but Logan was unfazed, zipping around pedestrians and horses with his feet pushing it to impressive speeds. 

The local park, with its serene ocean-side views, was a few blocks away and Logan barrelled through the front gates and down the first hill into its depths. Pedestrians had to jump out of the way to and fro to avoid being run over—women with their parasols and men with their walking canes—but he didn’t bat an eye; he and his bicycle were one. The wind rushed through his tidy blonde hair and rustled the strands out of its styled perfection into a look of more boyish charm.

By the time he reached the fields, the crowd of twenty-somethings were already gathered. The breaks on Logan’s bike shrieked as he skidded to a stop and let it fall to the side as he clamoured off, making sure his basket was politely set to the side. Sure, he was in a rush but he would never dream of ruining the hard work of his family’s staff. 

“My apologies!” Logan called to his group of friends as he jogged over to them, “We haven’t started yet, have we?”

One of his friends clapped him on the shoulder, “Right on time.”

Another shoved a leather football into his arms, “Almost thought we were going to have to scrape by and win the tournament without you.”

“You know I would never dream of doing such a thing,” Logan grinned back at them, his cheeks slightly flushed from his exertion, “Besides, you could never win without me.”

His friends replied in overlapping protests and laughter, jostling him around in a friendly manner as they got into position. Someone took out a coin to flip, arguing amongst themselves who was heads or tails. 

Logan tossed the worn football in the air and caught it again, taking a deep breath of crisp ocean-kissed spring air. For a moment, life felt good.

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[5sospenguinqueen]

American Boy | Logan Sargeant x Celeb! Reader

Summary: When Logan finds out this his celebrity crush’s celebrity crush is HIM!! He freaks out. Thankfully, the internet (and Oscar) manage to do most of the work for him. 

Warnings: Swearing. Fluff

Requested: No. I just love Logan Sargeant

I put an embarrassing amount of effort into this one, especially that letter. 2024 season

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

user1 girlies, who is this logan sargeant and how is he managing to make our girl smile like that 

→ user2 he’s an f1 driver. yn grew up watching f1 and is still a huge fan of it

→ user3 a vroom vroom guy! the shame 

user4 i can’t believe these came out in the same week??? 

→ user5 the universe is aligning 

user6 okay but i don’t think any of us would recover from them dating. they’re both so hot  liked by yn_official_ln

→ user7 omg omg omg she liked the tweet

→ user8 @/logansargeant look at this!! 

user9 okay but i really hope that somebody showed yn that episode of team torque because she loves f1 and i feel she would die

→ user10 babe, if logan is her celeb crush, what makes you think she hasn’t watched it herself? liked by yn_official_ln

user11 can we all take a moment to admire how calm yn was in her interview though. she admitted she’s had a crush on a guy since she was like 17 and didn’t even blush

user12 okay but yn’s liked tweets section is going to send logan into cardiac arrest

user13 @/logansargeant shoot your shot, dude! 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_official_ln vroom vroom what an exciting day. a huge thank you to mclaren for inviting me into their garage. i can’t put into words how amazing it was to be inside an f1 garage, and the whole team were warm and welcoming.  (i’m still convinced these two are dating though???)

1,778 comments

user1 someone check on logan please? is he still alive?

→ user2 no because the way he just stopped dead in the middle of the paddock when he spotted her walking with oscar and lando

landonorris right, i’ve told you like 10x now. we are NOT a couple. he just looks at me that way 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, don’t act like you’ve not been caught giving me the goo goo eyes too

→ landonorris goo goo eyes? who taught you that!

→ yn_official_ln that would’ve been me when i was showing him the photo i took of you looking at him with goo goo eyes

→ landonorris i take it back. i don’t want you to come again next weekend

→ yn_official_ln but i already booked my ticket :( 

→ user3 i fear logan may have passed away

 williamsracing perhaps we could poach you into our garage next time? 

→ user4 logan ghost wrote this

→ yn_official_ln would i get an ls2 cap to go with it?

→ logansargeant you can have mine liked by yn_official_ln

→ user5 they interacted! 

→ alex_albon i’m hoping he won’t see this because it’s hidden within comments but logan won’t stop giggling at his phone 

danielricciardo it was so great to meet you. i didn’t know it was possible for one person to do so many different voices 

→ yn_official_ln give me time to watch some interviews and i bet i can do you by silverstone

→ danielricciardo i don’t think logan would appreciate that

→ yn_official_ln omg! no! not in that way! i think i’ve made it clear that aussie drivers aren’t my type 

→ arthur_leclerc what about monegasque?

→ yn_official_ln not american, not for me liked by logansargeant

→ user6 i love how bold she is! logan, go for it! She has literally announced to the entire world on multiple occasions that she’s into you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_official_ln just posted a new story

logansargeant just posted a new story

oscarpiastri just posted a new story

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and others

yn_official_ln exciting things coming soon 

1,650 comments

alex_albon i thought we were friends. you can tell me right? new movie? new album?

→ yn_official_ln as my friend, i can tell you that you already know

→ user7 new boyfriend

georgerussell63 what’s all this then

→ landonorris george admitting he’s not cool enough to be included in the inner circle 

→ yn_official_ln don’t pick on him. there’s pics of him looking like amelia airheart on the internet, he’s suffered enough

→ georgerussell63 @/logansargeant why do you like this one

charles_leclerc the news is that she’s an ambassador for lec ice cream

→ yn_official_ln deal but only if i can meet leo

user8 okay but all the f1 drivers being here makes me think something

→ user9 she’s been in the paddock and went to a few garages. i think she’s made friends with a lot of them

williamsracing just checking that we’re still on for sunday?

→ yn_official_ln like i would miss the british gp

→ lilymhe you’re going to be in silverstone? omg, i’m freaking out. alex, why didn’t you tell me! 

→ alex_albon yeah, she’s racing instead of me liked by logansargeant

user10 miss rabbit has fainted

francisca.cgomes i was not familiar with your game. i need you to kiss ME like that 

→ pierregasly pardon? you better not come anywhere near alpine on sunday 

→ alex_albon like logan would let her leave williams

user11 logan liking but not commenting? do we think he’s actually died upon seeing that yn has a boyfriend?

→ user12 hear me out. what if he’s the boyfriend

→ user13 babe, i think you’re as delusional as he was for thinking he had a chance. nobody has a shot with their celeb crush, even if you’re semi-famous yourself

→ yn_official_ln wait, so i don’t have a shot with my celeb crush either?

→ oscarpiastri i think your celeb crush would let you step on him if you asked 

→ user14 i love that the grid are exposing logan being down bad for our girl 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

logansargeant just posted

liked by jensonbutton, arthur_leclerc and others

logansargeant silverstone complete. amazing support this weekend. and an amazing effort from the team

995 comments

user1 where can i get that jumper

→ yn_official_ln etsy x

→ user2 um, ma’am are you admitting that’s your jumper?

user3 i’m sorry but did anyone else see logan kissing someone who looked an awful lot like yn after he realised he was almost in the points???

→ user4 and we all know she was in the garage that weekend 

→ user5 fans caught video footage of her hugging him, and he just folded into her in shock, his helmet was still on and everything 

alex_albon i don’t think this counts as a soft launch after you were caught on camera in front of millions

→ logansargeant i’m trying my best, okay! 

→ yn_official_ln you’re doing amazing baby 

→ user6 miss yn, are you even trying to hide it

→ user7 she kissed him on live tv, i’m gonna go with no

→ yn_official_ln have you seen his face? you would too

→ logansargeant ☺️

lilymhe thank you for bringing my new best friend to silverstone

→ logansargeant you can’t have her

→ yn_official_ln i only came for you @/lilymhe

→ lilymhe you, me, run away into the sunset together?

→ alex_albon whoa, hold on a second

oscarpiastri mate please tell me you’re not attempting to soft launch

→ logansargeant it was the plan but somebody ignored the plan

→ yn_official_ln oops? it’s not my fault you’re too cute to ignore

yn_official_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, williamsracing and others

yn_official_ln somehow i managed to get a date with THE logan sargeant. i think i have ultimate rizz

1,839 comments

oscarpiastri no, you both just have a really good friend. you’re welcome

→ yn_official_ln whoa, i can get bitches on my own

→ logansargeant i can’t so thank you, oscar

→ mclaren i think you mean, thank you mclaren. we sent the letter 

logansargeant babe, you got more than a date

→ yn_official_ln you’re right. i’ve had six months worth <3

→ logansargeant and i look forward to even more

landonorris and it was all too much for little logan sargeant 

→ landonorris mate, why do your legs look so long

→ logansargeant @/yn_official_ln this is why i told you not to post that one 

→ yn_official_ln but you look so baby girl 

→ landonorris ha! 

alex_albon stop trying to make him look good at sports. i kicked his ass at table tennis

→ yn_official_ln yeah and i kicked yours. and stole your girl

→ lilymhe you tell him, boo! 

→ user8 yn really said don’t insult my princess

→ logansargeant she just called me her beautiful princess so thanks for that 

user9 when they say people died, and it’s a pic of logan sargeant kissing his celeb crush. i am people

→ yn_official_ln i also died because do you see how passionate this man is

→ user10 no need to rub it in (i love you)

danielricciardo i see a gentleman who respects a good hat

→ yn_official_ln he’s letting me live out my cowboy fantasies 

→ danielricciardo you know what they say, save a horse

→ yn_official_ln yeehaw!

→ logansargeant is this why pr are calling me?

Tag list

@rosecentury @peachiicherries

[pucksandpower]

Princess Protection Program

Logan Sargeant x Princess of England!Reader

Summary: when your safety is compromised due to escalating threats, the decision is made to send you overseas for your own protection, with one caveat: no one can know about your true identity (aka the fix-it fic we desperately need right now)

The sun streams through the ornate windows of Buckingham Palace as you pace anxiously in your private chambers. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your designer blouse, a habit you’ve developed when stress creeps in. The weight of the situation hangs heavy in the air, thicker than the plush carpet beneath your feet.

A sharp knock at the door makes you jump. “Come in,” you call, trying to keep your voice steady.

Your father, King Edward, enters with a grim expression etched on his face. Behind him, your mother, Queen Charlotte, follows closely, her usual poise wavering slightly.

“Darling,” your mother begins, her voice soft but strained. “We need to talk.”

You sink into a nearby armchair, bracing yourself. “Is this about the threats?”

Your father nods, his jaw tightening. “I’m afraid so. The situation has ... escalated.”

“How bad is it?” You ask, dreading the answer.

The King exchanges a look with your mother before responding. “Bad enough that we can no longer ignore it. The security team believes your life is in genuine danger.”

Your heart races, but you force yourself to remain composed. “What does that mean for me?”

Your mother moves closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “We think it’s best if you leave London for a while, sweetheart. Just until we can neutralize the threat.”

You stand abruptly, shaking your head. “Leave? But I can’t! I have responsibilities here, engagements planned for the entire summer!”

“Your safety is our top priority,” your father interjects firmly. “Everything else can wait.”

“Where would I even go?” You ask, exasperation creeping into your voice.

Your mother hesitates before answering. “We’ve been discussing options with the security team. We think it’s best if you go somewhere ... unexpected.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding your anxiety. “Unexpected how?”

“Florida.”

You blink, certain you’ve misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Florida?”

Your mother nods, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the gravity of the situation. “Your Aunt Maggie and Uncle George have that lovely beach house in Fort Lauderdale, remember? We visited when you were younger.”

“But ... Florida?” You repeat, still struggling to process the idea. “It’s so ... American.”

Your father chuckles softly. “Exactly. No one would think to look for you there. It’s the perfect cover.”

You begin pacing again, your mind racing. “For how long?”

“We’re not sure yet,” your mother admits. “But we promise to bring you home as soon as it’s safe.”

You pause, turning to face your parents. The concern in their eyes is palpable, and it hits you just how serious this situation must be for them to suggest such a drastic measure.

“Can’t I just stay here? Increase security or something?” you plead, making one last attempt.

Your father shakes his head firmly. “The palace is too exposed. There are too many variables, too many potential weak points. We need you somewhere more ... inconspicuous.”

You sigh heavily, knowing deep down that they’re right. “When do I leave?”

“Tonight,” your mother says softly. “We’ve already begun making arrangements.”

Your eyes widen. “Tonight? But I haven’t packed, I haven’t said goodbye to anyone-”

“I know it’s sudden,” your father interrupts gently, “but the quicker we move, the safer you’ll be.”

You nod slowly, reality sinking in. “I understand.”

Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace. “Oh, darling. I know this is difficult, but please try to think of it as an adventure. A chance to experience a different kind of life for a while.”

You lean into her hug, drawing comfort from her familiar perfume. “I’ll try, Mum.”

As she pulls away, your father clears his throat. “There’s one more thing. While you’re there, you’ll need to ... blend in.”

You furrow your brow. “What do you mean?”

“We think it’s best if you adopt a different identity,” he explains. “Just temporarily, of course. To throw off anyone who might be looking for you.”

“A different identity?” You repeat, the concept both thrilling and terrifying. “Like ... a commoner?”

Your mother nods encouragingly. “Exactly. You’ll be staying with Maggie and George, of course, but to the rest of the world, you’ll just be their niece visiting for the summer.”

You take a deep breath, trying to wrap your head around it all. “I suppose I could use a break from royal duties,” you admit with a small smile.

Your father’s face softens with relief. “That’s my girl. Always looking on the bright side.”

A knock at the door interrupts the moment. “Your Majesties,” a voice calls from outside. “The security team is ready for the briefing.”

Your father sighs. “We’d better go. Darling, start packing what you can. Someone will be up shortly to help you with the rest.”

As your parents move towards the door, you call out, “Wait!”

They turn back, concern etched on their faces.

“I just ... I love you both,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “And I know you’re just trying to protect me.”

Your mother’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as she rushes back to embrace you once more. “We love you too, sweetheart. More than anything in this world.”

Your father joins the hug, his strong arms encircling both of you. For a moment, you’re not a princess facing a crisis, but simply a daughter cherishing her parents’ love.

As they reluctantly pull away, your father says, “Remember, this is only temporary. Before you know it, you’ll be back home, safe and sound.”

You nod, forcing a brave smile. “I know. I’ll make the best of it, I promise.”

With one last loving look, your parents exit the room, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts and a suitcase to pack.

You move to your closet, running your hands along the rows of designer gowns and tailored suits. How do normal people dress in Florida? You wonder, realizing just how much you’ll need to adapt.

As you begin selecting clothes, a bittersweet excitement begins to bubble up alongside your anxiety. It’s terrifying, leaving everything you know behind, but there’s a tiny part of you that can’t help but wonder what adventures await in this unexpected journey.

You’re lost in thought when another knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” you call, expecting to see one of the staff sent to help you pack.

Instead, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, Olivia, bursts into the room. “Is it true?” She demands without preamble. “Are they really shipping you off to America?”

You sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Florida, to be exact.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. “Florida? Land of alligators and questionable fashion choices? Oh, darling, no.”

Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “It’s not that bad. I hope.”

Olivia moves to your side, helping you fold a blouse. “How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Until they catch whoever’s behind the threats, I suppose.”

Olivia’s face softens with concern. “Are you scared?”

You pause, considering the question. “A little,” you confess. “But also ... I don’t know. Maybe a tiny bit excited? Is that weird?”

Olivia shakes her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not at all. It’s like your own personal Princess Protection Program, but with better weather and beach access.”

You snort, grateful for her ability to find humor even in the darkest situations. “I’m going to miss you so much, Liv.”

“Oh, please,” she scoffs, though her eyes are suspiciously shiny. “You’ll be having so much fun living your secret Florida life, you’ll forget all about little old me.”

“Never,” you promise, pulling her into a fierce hug.

As you embrace, Olivia whispers, “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” you reply without hesitation.

“If you meet some devastatingly handsome American and fall madly in love, you have to tell me every single detail.”

You pull back, laughing. “Liv, I’m going there to hide, not find romance!”

Olivia winks mischievously. “The best love stories always happen when you least expect them, darling. Trust me on this.”

As you continue packing, chatting and joking with Olivia, the weight on your shoulders begins to lift slightly. Yes, you’re leaving behind everything you know. Yes, there’s danger lurking in the shadows. But with the love of your family and friends behind you, you feel a flicker of hope.

Whatever awaits you in Fort Lauderdale, you’ll face it head-on. After all, you’re not just any ordinary girl — you’re a princess. And princesses, as you’ve always been taught, are made of stronger stuff.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across your room, you zip up the last of your suitcases. Olivia helps you change into a simple outfit — jeans and a t-shirt, clothes that won’t draw attention during your journey.

A soft knock at the door signals the arrival of your security detail. “Your Highness,” a voice calls. “It’s time.”

You take a deep breath, looking around your room one last time. “Well,” you say to Olivia, your voice barely above a whisper, “I guess this is it.”

Olivia pulls you into one last fierce hug. “Go show those Floridians what British royalty is made of,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “And don’t you dare come back with an American accent.”

You laugh, wiping away a stray tear. “I’ll do my best. Take care of everything while I’m gone, okay?”

“Of course,” Olivia promises. “Now go, before I change my mind and hide you in my closet instead.”

With one last smile, you open the door. Your security team waits outside, their faces a mask of professional calm. As you follow them through the winding corridors of the palace, each step feels both like an ending and a beginning.

At the private exit, your parents wait. Your mother pulls you into a tight embrace, whispering words of love and encouragement. Your father, ever the king, maintains his composure, but you can see the emotion swimming in his eyes as he kisses your forehead.

“Remember,” he says softly, “no matter where you are, you carry the strength of your ancestors with you. You are a princess of the realm, even if you’re pretending not to be for a while.”

You nod, standing a little straighter. “I won’t let you down.”

“You never could,” your mother assures you.

With one last look at your family, at the only home you’ve ever known, you step into the waiting car. As it pulls away from the palace, you don’t look back. Instead, you fix your gaze forward, towards the unknown adventure that awaits.

Florida, you think with a mix of trepidation and excitement, I hope you’re ready for me.

***

The Florida sun beats down mercilessly as you step out of the air-conditioned car, squinting against the bright light. The humid air immediately wraps around you like a warm, damp blanket, a stark contrast to London’s typically cool climate.

“Welcome to Fort Lauderdale, sweetheart!” Your Aunt Maggie’s voice rings out, full of warmth and excitement.

You turn to see her hurrying down the driveway of an impressive Mediterranean-style villa, arms outstretched. Behind her, your Uncle George follows at a more leisurely pace, a wide grin on his face.

“Aunt Maggie, Uncle George,” you greet them, trying to infuse your voice with enthusiasm despite your jet lag and lingering anxiety. “Thank you so much for having me.”

Aunt Maggie pulls you into a tight hug, her floral perfume momentarily overwhelming your senses. “Oh, darling, we’re thrilled to have you. Aren’t we, George?”

Uncle George nods, giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Absolutely. Our home is your home, princess. Er, I mean-”

“Just Y/N,” you remind him quietly, glancing around to ensure no one overheard. “Remember, I’m just your normal, everyday niece visiting for the summer.”

“Right, right,” Uncle George says, lowering his voice. “Sorry about that. Old habits, you know.”

Aunt Maggie loops her arm through yours, leading you towards the house. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’ve briefed all the neighbors. As far as they know, you’re our lovely niece from England, taking some time to experience life across the pond.”

You nod, grateful for their thoughtfulness. As you enter the house, the cool air conditioning washes over you, providing instant relief from the oppressive heat outside.

“Now,” Aunt Maggie continues, “I know this must all be very overwhelming for you. Why don’t you freshen up, and then we’ll give you the grand tour?”

“That sounds lovely,” you agree, realizing just how grimy you feel after the long journey.

Uncle George appears with your suitcases. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s got a great view of the pool.”

As you follow him up the stairs, you can’t help but marvel at the casual opulence of the house. It’s certainly luxurious, but in a relaxed, lived-in way that feels worlds apart from the formal grandeur of the palace.

Your room, as promised, is beautiful. Large windows overlook a sparkling pool surrounded by swaying palm trees. For a moment, you feel like you’ve stepped into a holiday brochure.

“I’ll let you get settled,” Uncle George says, setting down your bags. “Take your time, we’re on Florida time now. No rush.”

As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, finally allowing yourself a moment to process everything. You’re here, in Florida, thousands of miles from home and everything familiar. The reality of your situation hits you anew, and you feel a lump forming in your throat.

A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. “Y/N, dear?” Aunt Maggie calls. “I’ve brought you some iced tea. May I come in?”

“Of course,” you reply, quickly composing yourself.

Aunt Maggie enters, carrying a tall glass of tea so cold that condensation is already forming on the outside. She hands it to you with a warm smile. “I thought you might need this. The Florida heat can be quite a shock to the system.”

You take a sip, the sweet, refreshing liquid instantly soothing your parched throat. “Thank you, Aunt Maggie. This is delicious.”

She sits beside you on the bed, her face softening with concern. “How are you really doing, sweetheart? I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

For a moment, you consider maintaining your composed facade. But something about Aunt Maggie’s gentle demeanor breaks through your defenses. “I’m ... scared,” you admit quietly. “And I miss home already. But I’m trying to be brave.”

Aunt Maggie wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Oh, my dear. It’s okay to be scared. What you’re going through, it’s not easy. But you are brave, just by being here.”

You lean into her embrace, allowing yourself this moment of vulnerability. “I just feel so ... out of place. I don’t know how to be a normal person.”

Aunt Maggie chuckles softly. “Well, I’ve got news for you. None of us really know how to be normal. We’re all just figuring it out as we go along.”

Her words bring a small smile to your face. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Tell you what,” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “Why don’t you get changed into something cool and comfortable, and then we’ll show you around the neighborhood? It might help you feel more settled.”

You nod, feeling a flicker of curiosity despite your apprehension. “I’d like that.”

After Aunt Maggie leaves, you dig through your suitcase, realizing with a start that you have no idea what constitutes “cool and comfortable” in Florida. You eventually settle on a light sundress and sandals, hoping it’s appropriate.

Downstairs, Aunt Maggie and Uncle George are waiting. “Oh, don’t you look lovely,” Aunt Maggie coos. “Very Floridian chic.”

Uncle George grabs a set of keys from a hook by the door. “Shall we take the golf cart? It’s the preferred mode of transportation around here.”

You blink in surprise. “We’re allowed to drive golf carts on the streets?”

“Welcome to Florida, kiddo,” Uncle George laughs. “Different rules apply here.”

The next hour is a whirlwind tour of the neighborhood. You zip along palm-lined streets in the golf cart, waving at neighbors who call out cheerful greetings. Aunt Maggie provides a running commentary.

“That’s the Johnsons’ place — lovely people, but their dog is a menace to squirrels everywhere. Oh, and over there is the community pool, although everyone just uses their own pools, really. And that’s where we have our neighborhood barbecues ...”

As if on cue, a man watering his impeccably manicured lawn calls out, “Hey, Maggie! George! Don’t forget the barbecue tonight!”

Aunt Maggie turns to you with a bright smile. “Oh, that’s perfect timing! What do you say, Y/N? Feel up to a little neighborhood gathering?”

You hesitate, anxiety bubbling up at the thought of meeting so many new people. But you remind yourself that this is part of your cover, part of being normal. “Sure,” you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Why not?”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of unpacking and preparation. Before you know it, you’re walking down the street with your aunt and uncle, a dish of something called “ambrosia salad” in your hands.

The barbecue is in full swing when you arrive. The air is filled with the smell of grilling meat and the sound of laughter and cheerful conversation. Children splash in a nearby pool while adults mingle, cold drinks in hand.

“George! Maggie!” A jovial man with a impressive mustache approaches, clapping Uncle George on the back. “Glad you could make it. And this must be your niece!”

You smile politely, remembering your cover story. “Yes, hello. I’m Y/N. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Y/N,” the man says warmly. “I’m Bill, by the way. Now, let me introduce you to some folks. Can’t have you standing around like a wallflower, can we?”

Before you can protest, Bill is leading you through the crowd, making introductions left and right. You smile and nod, trying desperately to remember names and keep your story straight.

“And this here is Logan,” Bill says, stopping in front of a young man about your age. “Logan’s our local celebrity, drives race cars for a living.”

You look up, meeting a pair of startlingly green eyes. The young man — Logan — smiles, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Hi there,” Logan says, his voice a pleasant drawl. “Logan Sargeant. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Hello,” you manage, suddenly very aware of your accent. “You’re a race car driver?”

Logan nods, a hint of pride in his smile. “Formula 1, yeah. I drive for Williams Racing.”

Your eyes widen in recognition. You’ve attended a few F1 events in your official capacity, though you’ve never paid much attention to the drivers themselves. “That’s impressive,” you say genuinely.

“Ah, it’s just a job,” Logan says with a self-deprecating shrug, though his eyes sparkle with obvious passion. “What brings you to our little slice of paradise?”

You launch into your prepared story about traveling abroad, surprised at how easily the words flow. Logan listens attentively, asking questions that show genuine interest.

Just as you’re starting to relax into the conversation, Aunt Maggie appears at your elbow. “Y/N, dear, come meet the Hendersons. They’ve got a daughter about your age.”

You turn back to Logan with an apologetic smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

“Likewise,” he replies, that charming grin still in place. “Hope to see you around, Y/N.”

As Aunt Maggie leads you away, you can’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan is still watching you, and when your eyes meet, he gives a little wave.

For the rest of the evening, you find yourself scanning the crowd, hoping for another glimpse of those green eyes. But between meeting what feels like the entire neighborhood and helping Aunt Maggie with hostess duties, you don’t get another chance to talk to Logan.

As the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow over the gathering, you feel a mix of emotions washing over you. There’s still a lingering sadness, a homesickness that sits heavy in your chest. But there’s also a tiny spark of excitement, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, this unexpected adventure might not be so bad after all.

Uncle George finds you as the party begins to wind down. “How you holding up, kiddo?” He asks gently.

You consider the question for a moment. “I’m okay,” you say, surprising yourself with how true it feels. “It’s all very different, but ... I think I might be able to get used to it.”

Uncle George smiles, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s my girl. Now, what do you say we head home? I don’t know about you, but all this socializing has worn me out.”

You nod gratefully, suddenly aware of how tired you are. As you walk home with your aunt and uncle, the warm night air filled with the sound of cicadas, you feel a sense of calm settling over you.

This isn’t home, not really. But maybe, for now, it can be enough. And as you climb into bed that night, your mind drifts to a pair of green eyes and a charming smile, wondering what other surprises Florida might have in store for you.

***

The Florida sun has barely crested the horizon when you step out of your aunt and uncle’s house, running shoes laced tight. You’ve taken to early morning jogs as a way to clear your head and adjust to the new time zone. The neighborhood is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of exotic birds and the distant hum of sprinklers.

As you round the corner, lost in thought, you nearly collide with another runner coming from the opposite direction.

“Whoa there!” A familiar voice calls out, hands reaching out to steady you.

You look up, startled, into the green eyes of Logan Sargeant. He’s dressed in running gear, a light sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead.

“Oh! Logan, I’m so sorry,” you stammer, feeling heat rise to your cheeks that has nothing to do with the morning warmth.

Logan grins, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before dropping away. “No harm done. I didn’t know you were a runner.”

You shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not really. Just trying to ... acclimate, I suppose.”

“To the heat or to Florida in general?” Logan asks, falling into step beside you as you both slow to a walk.

“Both, I think,” you admit with a small laugh. “It’s quite different from home.”

Logan nods understandingly. “I bet. I’ve been to England quite a bit since Williams is based there. Beautiful country, but yeah, not exactly known for its tropical climate.”

You’re about to respond when your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. Logan’s eyebrows shoot up in amusement.

“Sounds like someone worked up an appetite,” he chuckles. “Have you tried the coffee shop down on Atlantic Boulevard yet? They make a mean breakfast burrito.”

You shake your head, realizing you haven’t ventured much beyond the immediate neighborhood.

Logan’s face lights up. “Well, we can’t have that. What do you say we grab some breakfast? My treat, to make up for almost running you over.”

You hesitate for a moment, your ingrained caution warring with the genuine warmth in Logan’s smile. “I wouldn’t want to impose ...”

“Not at all,” Logan insists. “Besides, I could use a coffee after this run. What do you say?”

Against your better judgment, you find yourself nodding. “Alright, that sounds lovely. Thank you.”

The walk to the coffee shop is filled with easy conversation. Logan asks about your impressions of Florida so far, and you find yourself relaxing as you share some of your culture shock moments.

“Wait, you’ve never had a key lime pie before?” Logan asks incredulously as you approach the quaint storefront of the coffee shop.

You shake your head, laughing. “I had never even heard of it! Aunt Maggie was scandalized.”

Logan holds the door open for you, the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods washing over you as you enter. “Well, we’ll have to remedy that. They make a pretty decent one here, actually.”

As you settle into a cozy booth by the window, you can’t help but marvel at how ... normal this feels. Sitting in a cafe with a handsome boy, discussing pastries and local cuisine. It’s a far cry from formal state dinners and carefully orchestrated public appearances.

“So,” Logan says after you’ve placed your orders, “what brings you to Fort Lauderdale? Your aunt mentioned something about you taking some time off?”

You nod, reciting the cover story you’ve practiced. “Yes, I wanted to experience life outside of England for a bit before graduate school. My aunt and uncle were kind enough to let me stay with them.”

Logan leans forward, genuinely interested. “That’s cool. Any specific plans while you’re here?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “Not really. Just ... experiencing life, I suppose. What about you? Shouldn’t you be off racing cars somewhere exotic?”

Logan grins, a spark of excitement lighting up his eyes. “Usually, yeah. But it’s the summer shutdown right now. All the teams take a break for a few weeks. I always try to come home when I can.”

“That must be nice,” you say softly, a pang of homesickness hitting you unexpectedly.

Logan’s expression softens. “You miss home?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak for a moment. Logan reaches across the table, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey, it’s okay. Homesickness is rough. But you know what helps?”

You look up, meeting his eyes. “What’s that?”

“Making some good memories in your new place,” Logan says with a warm smile. “And I happen to be an expert in South Florida fun.”

You can’t help but smile back. “Is that so?”

Logan nods solemnly. “Oh yeah. In fact, I’d be happy to be your official tour guide. If you’re interested, that is.”

Before you can respond, your food arrives. The conversation flows easily as you eat, Logan regaling you with tales of his racing adventures and you sharing carefully edited stories of life in England.

As you finish your meal, Logan glances at his watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got a training session in an hour. But hey, if you’re free later, maybe we could meet up at the beach? I could show you some of the best spots.”

You hesitate, knowing you should probably decline. But the thought of spending more time with Logan, of experiencing a slice of normal life, is too tempting to resist.

“That sounds wonderful,” you find yourself saying. “What time were you thinking?”

Logan’s face lights up. “How about three? I can meet you at the public access point near your aunt and uncle’s place.”

You nod, already looking forward to it. “Three it is.”

As you part ways outside the cafe, Logan gives you another heart-melting smile. “See you later, Y/N. And welcome to Fort Lauderdale.”

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. You help Aunt Maggie with some gardening, your mind constantly drifting to thoughts of green eyes and easy smiles. By the time 3 o’clock rolls around, you’re a bundle of nervous energy.

You spot Logan waiting by the beach access, a backpack slung over one shoulder. He waves as you approach, that now-familiar grin spreading across his face.

“Ready for Beach Life 101?” He asks as you fall into step beside him.

You nod, breathing in the salty air. “Lead the way, Professor Sargeant.”

Logan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Oh, I like that. Maybe I’ve found my post-racing career.”

As you walk along the shoreline, Logan points out various landmarks and shares local trivia. You find yourself captivated, not just by the information, but by the passion with which he speaks about his hometown.

“And over there,” Logan says, pointing to a stretch of beach dotted with volleyball nets, “is where I learned that I am absolutely terrible at beach volleyball.”

You giggle, the sound surprising even yourself. “Oh? Do tell.”

Logan dramatically recounts a particularly disastrous game from his teenage days, complete with exaggerated gestures. You’re laughing so hard you barely notice when you stumble over a piece of driftwood.

Logan’s arm shoots out, steadying you. “Whoa there. You okay?”

You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing. “Yes, thank you. I’m not usually this clumsy.”

“Must be my sparkling wit distracting you,” Logan teases, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before dropping away.

As the afternoon wears on, you find yourself relaxing more and more in Logan’s company. He’s easy to talk to, genuinely interested in your thoughts and experiences. For a few blissful hours, you almost forget about the circumstances that brought you here.

As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks, Logan leads you to a quiet spot away from the main beach.

“This,” he says with a flourish, “is the best place to watch the sunset in all of Fort Lauderdale.”

You settle onto the sand, marveling at the view. “It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

Logan sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his sun-kissed skin. “Yeah, it really is.”

For a moment, you sit in comfortable silence, watching as the sun slowly sinks into the ocean. Then Logan turns to you, his expression suddenly serious.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod, a flicker of nervousness igniting in your chest. “Of course.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to your story than you’re letting on?”

Your heart races, panic threatening to overwhelm you. “What do you mean?”

Logan shrugs, his eyes searching your face. “I don’t know. There’s just something about you. The way you carry yourself, the things you say ... or don’t say. It’s like you’re holding part of yourself back.”

You look away, focusing on the horizon. “I’m just ... adjusting. To being here, I mean.”

Logan nods slowly. “I get that. And hey, if there are things you don’t want to share, that’s cool. I just want you to know that you can trust me. If you want to, that is.”

You turn back to him, struck by the sincerity in his eyes. For a wild moment, you consider telling him everything — who you really are, why you’re here. But the weight of your family’s expectations, the very real danger that drove you here, holds you back.

Instead, you offer him a small smile. “Thank you, Logan. That means a lot.”

He returns your smile, reaching out to squeeze your hand gently. “Anytime. Whatever brought you here, I’m glad it did. It’s been really nice getting to know you.”

As the last rays of sunlight disappear beneath the waves, you find yourself wishing you could freeze this moment. Here, with the sound of the ocean in your ears and Logan’s hand warm in yours, you feel more like yourself than you have in years.

But as the sky darkens and the first stars begin to appear, reality starts to creep back in. You know you can’t stay in this bubble forever.

“We should probably head back,” you say reluctantly, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled between you.

Logan nods, standing and offering you a hand up. “Yeah, I guess so. But this doesn’t have to be a one-time thing. Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

You smile, surprising yourself with how much you want that. “I’d like that very much.”

As you walk back along the beach, Logan’s hand brushes against yours. After a moment’s hesitation, you let your fingers intertwine with his. It’s a small gesture, but it feels monumental.

At the edge of your aunt and uncle’s property, you pause. “Thank you for today, Logan. It was ... wonderful.”

Logan’s smile is soft in the dim light. “I’m glad. And if you ever need a break from acclimating, you know where to find me.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Logan.”

As you hurry inside, your heart pounding, you catch a glimpse of Logan touching his cheek, a dazed smile on his face.

In your room, you sink onto the bed, a whirlwind of emotions swirling through you. You know you’re treading dangerous waters. Logan is everything you shouldn’t want — a distraction, a complication, a risk to your cover.

But as you drift off to sleep, your dreams are filled with green eyes and the sound of waves crashing on the shore. And for the first time since arriving in Florida, you find yourself looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

***

The gentle lapping of waves against the hull of the boat fills the comfortable silence between you and Logan. You’re sprawled on the deck, basking in the warm afternoon sun, while Logan sits nearby, his fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Logan’s voice breaks through your reverie.

You turn your head to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Just thinking about how surreal this all feels. A few weeks ago, I never could have imagined ... this.”

Logan’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement. “What, lying on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic? Or spending time with an incredibly charming race car driver?”

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Both, I suppose. Though I’m not sure about the ‘incredibly charming’ part.”

“Ouch,” Logan clutches his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me.”

Sitting up, you lean against the boat’s railing, taking in the endless expanse of blue around you. “It’s just ... I’ve never felt this free before. This ... unburdened.”

Logan’s expression softens as he moves to sit beside you. “What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, choosing your words carefully. “Back home, there’s always ... expectations. Responsibilities. Here, with you, I feel like I can just be myself.”

Logan nods thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s kind of like how I feel when I’m racing. When I’m in the car, nothing else matters. It’s just me, the track, and the speed.”

“That sounds exhilarating,” you say, genuinely curious. “Is that why you love it so much?”

Logan’s eyes light up with passion. “Partly, yeah. But it’s more than that. It’s the challenge, you know? Pushing yourself to the absolute limit, always striving to be better, faster.”

You listen intently as Logan delves into the intricacies of Formula 1 racing, marveling at the depth of his knowledge and the intensity of his enthusiasm.

“Sorry,” he says suddenly, looking a bit sheepish. “I tend to ramble when it comes to racing. I’m probably boring you.”

You shake your head emphatically. “Not at all! I love hearing you talk about it. Your passion is ... inspiring.”

Logan’s smile is warm as he takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Thanks. You know, it’s nice to be able to talk about this stuff with someone who actually listens. Most people just hear ‘Formula 1 driver’ and make assumptions.”

“What kind of assumptions?” you ask, curious.

Logan shrugs. “Oh, you know. That I’m some adrenaline junkie who doesn’t take anything seriously. Or that I’m living some glamorous, carefree life.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “But it’s not like that at all, is it?”

“Not even close,” Logan admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. But the pressure ... it can be overwhelming sometimes.”

“How so?” You prompt, recognizing the weight in his voice.

Logan leans back, his gaze distant. “It’s not just about driving fast, you know? There’s the physical training, the technical knowledge, the media obligations. And then there’s the constant pressure to perform. Everyone always questioning whether you deserve your seat.”

You nod, understanding all too well the burden of constant scrutiny. “That sounds incredibly stressful.”

“It can be,” Logan agrees. “But then I remember how lucky I am to be living my dream, and it puts things in perspective.”

You smile, admiring his positive outlook. “That’s a wonderful way of looking at it.”

Logan turns to you, his green eyes intense. “What about you? What’s your dream?”

The question catches you off guard. For so long, your life has been dictated by duty and expectation. The concept of a personal dream feels almost foreign.

“I ... I’m not sure,” you admit quietly. “I’ve never really thought about it in those terms.”

Logan’s brow furrows in concern. “Really? There must be something you’re passionate about, something you’d love to do if you could do anything in the world.”

You ponder the question, thinking back to the interests and passions you’ve had to set aside for your royal duties. “I’ve always loved art,” you say finally. “Painting, specifically. But it’s always been more of a hobby than a serious pursuit.”

Logan’s face lights up. “That’s awesome! Have you painted anything since you’ve been here?”

You shake your head, a twinge of regret in your chest. “No, I ... I didn’t bring any supplies with me.”

“Well, we’ll have to fix that,” Logan says decisively. “I’m sure there’s an art supply store in town. We could go tomorrow if you want?”

The thought of picking up a paintbrush again sends a thrill of excitement through you. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

Logan laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Mind? Y/N, I’d love to see this side of you. Maybe you could even paint me sometime,” he adds with a wink.

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not sure you’d want that. I’m terribly out of practice.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing,” Logan says with such conviction that you can’t help but believe him a little.

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the sound of the waves and the occasional cry of a seagull. You find yourself studying Logan’s profile, admiring the way the sunlight catches in his hair and highlights the strong line of his jaw.

As if sensing your gaze, Logan turns to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, returning his smile. “I’m just ... happy.”

Logan’s expression becomes tender as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah? Me too.”

The moment stretches between you, charged with unspoken emotion. Logan leans in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. But you don’t want to. Instead, you meet him halfway, your lips brushing together in a soft, sweet kiss.

When you part, Logan rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” he admits.

You laugh softly, your heart feeling lighter than it has in years. “Me too.”

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of conversation, laughter, and stolen kisses. As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Logan steers the boat back towards the docks.

“So,” he says as you dock, “what do you say we go on a proper date tomorrow? Dinner, maybe? After our art supply shopping trip, of course.”

You nod, unable to keep the smile off your face. “That sounds wonderful.”

As Logan walks you back to your aunt and uncle’s house, his hand warm in yours, you can’t help but marvel at how much your life has changed in just a few short weeks. The weight of your royal responsibilities, the constant fear from the threats that drove you here — it all feels distant, like a half-remembered dream.

At your doorstep, Logan pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Logan,” you reply, reluctant to let go of his hand.

Inside, you lean against the closed door, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and an emotion you’re not quite ready to name. For the first time in your life, you’re experiencing something that’s wholly yours — not dictated by duty or protocol, but born from genuine connection and shared moments.

The next few weeks pass in a whirlwind of stolen moments and shared adventures. True to his word, Logan takes you to the art supply store, insisting on buying you the best paints and brushes despite your protests.

You find yourself rediscovering your passion for art, spending hours capturing the vibrant colors and energy of Fort Lauderdale on canvas. Logan is always eager to see your latest creations, his genuine enthusiasm bolstering your confidence.

One evening, as you sit on the beach watching the sunset, Logan turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say we go for a swim?”

You laugh, gesturing at your sundress. “Now? We’re not exactly dressed for it.”

Logan shrugs, his grin widening. “So? Live a little, Y/N. When was the last time you went swimming in your clothes?”

You think back, realizing with a start that you’ve never done anything so spontaneous. “I ... never, actually.”

“Well then,” Logan says, standing and offering you his hand, “there’s no time like the present.”

Before you can overthink it, you take his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Together, you run towards the water, laughing as the cool waves crash around your ankles.

Logan pulls you deeper, until you’re both waist-deep in the ocean. The water is refreshing against your sun-warmed skin, and you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of it all.

“See?” Logan says, pulling you close. “Isn’t this fun?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It’s perfect.”

As you float together in the gentle waves, the last rays of sunlight painting the sky in brilliant hues, you’re struck by a sudden, overwhelming realization. You’re falling in love with Logan Sargeant.

The thought should terrify you. After all, you know this can’t last forever. Your real life, your responsibilities, they’re all waiting for you back in England. But in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you and the vast ocean stretching out before you, you can’t bring yourself to care about the future.

“What are you thinking about?” Logan asks softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your back.

You look up at him, taking in the warmth in his green eyes, the gentle curve of his smile. “Just ... how happy I am right now. How I wish this moment could last forever.”

Logan’s expression softens as he leans in to kiss you. It’s a kiss full of unspoken emotion, of shared dreams and secret hopes. When you part, Logan rests his forehead against yours.

“Me too, Y/N,” he whispers. “Me too.”

As you float in the warm Florida waters, the stars beginning to twinkle overhead, you allow yourself to fully embrace the moment. You know that reality will intrude eventually, that the carefree days of this Florida summer can’t last forever. But for now, in Logan’s arms, you feel truly, completely free.

And for the first time in your life, you dare to dream of a future shaped by your own desires rather than the expectations of others. It’s a dangerous thought, a seed of hope that you know might lead to heartbreak. But as Logan pulls you in for another kiss, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

For now, you’re just a girl falling in love under the Florida stars. And for now, that’s enough.

***

The sun is setting over Fort Lauderdale as you and Logan stroll hand in hand along Las Olas Boulevard. The street is alive with the buzz of restaurants and boutiques, but you’re barely aware of your surroundings, lost in thought about the conversation you know you need to have.

Logan’s voice breaks through your reverie. “Earth to Y/N,” he says, gently nudging your shoulder. “You okay? You’ve been pretty quiet tonight.”

You force a smile, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling in your chest. “I’m fine. Just ... thinking.”

Logan’s brow furrows with concern. “Anything you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Actually, yes. Logan, there’s something I need to tell you-”

But before you can continue, a flash goes off nearby, startling you both. You turn to see a man with a camera, his lens pointed directly at you.

“Princess Y/N?” The photographer calls out, his voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Is that you?”

Your blood runs cold as more flashes go off. Suddenly, it seems like cameras are appearing from every direction, voices calling out your name and title.

Logan’s hand tightens around yours. “Princess?” He repeats, confusion evident in his voice. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You feel panic rising in your throat. This isn’t how you wanted him to find out. “Logan, I can explain-”

But Logan’s already pulling you away from the growing crowd, his jaw set in a hard line. He leads you down a side street, away from the main thoroughfare, until you reach a quiet park.

As soon as you’re alone, Logan drops your hand, turning to face you with a mixture of hurt and bewilderment in his eyes. “Princess Y/N? That’s who you are?”

You nod, your heart racing. “Yes. Logan, I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you-”

“When?” Logan interrupts, his voice sharp. “When were you planning on telling me that everything about you has been a lie?”

“Not everything,” you protest, reaching for his hand, but he pulls away. “My feelings for you are real, Logan. That’s not a lie.”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think this was funny? Playing at being a normal girl, slumming it with the commoner?”

His words sting, and you feel tears pricking at your eyes. “No! Of course not. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“Then what was it like?” Logan demands. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve been playing me for a fool this entire time.”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “I came here because my life was in danger. There were threats, serious ones. My family thought it would be safer if I disappeared for a while, if I lived like a normal person.”

Logan’s expression softens slightly, but the hurt is still evident in his eyes. “Okay, I can understand that. But why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me the truth?”

“I wanted to,” you say softly. “So many times. But I was scared. Scared of how you’d react, scared of ruining what we had.”

“What we had,” Logan repeats, his voice bitter. “And what exactly was that, Y/N? Or should I call you ‘Your Highness’ now?”

You flinch at his tone. “Logan, please. What we have is real. My feelings for you are real.”

“Are they?” Logan challenges. “Because the Y/N I thought I knew wouldn’t have lied to me for weeks. The Y/N I was falling in love with wouldn’t have let me make a fool of myself, talking about my problems like they were anything compared to being actual royalty.”

His words hit you like a physical blow. “Falling in love with?” You repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s expression crumples for a moment before he schools it back into anger. “Yeah, well. I guess that just shows how stupid I’ve been.”

“You’re not stupid,” you insist, taking a step towards him. “Logan, I love you too. That’s why I was so scared to tell you the truth. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan laughs humorlessly. “Well, great job there. Because finding out like this? With paparazzi swarming us? That’s so much better.”

You feel tears starting to fall, but you make no move to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Logan asks, his voice softer now but still laced with hurt. “Did you think we could just keep playing pretend forever? That your real life wouldn’t come crashing back in eventually?”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of your reality pressing down on you. “No, I ... I don’t know what I thought. I just knew that when I was with you, I felt free. I felt like myself for the first time in my life.”

Logan’s expression wavers between anger and sympathy. “And who is that, Y/N? Because I’m not sure I know anymore.”

“I’m still me,” you insist. “The girl who loves art and quiet moments on the beach. The girl who laughs at your terrible jokes and feels safest when she’s in your arms. That’s all real, Logan. The only thing that’s different is my title.”

Logan scoffs. “Only your title? Y/N, you’re a princess. Do you have any idea what this means? The media frenzy, the scrutiny, the expectations ... it’s not just your title that’s different. It’s your entire world.”

You feel a flicker of frustration ignite in your chest. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t lived with that pressure every day of my life? That’s why being here, being with you, has meant so much to me. For once, I got to just be myself.”

“But it wasn’t really yourself, was it?” Logan counters. “It was a version of you. A version without the weight of a crown.”

His words hit too close to home, and you feel your own anger rising. “And what about you? You talk about pressure and expectations like I couldn’t possibly understand. But I do understand, Logan. More than you know.”

Logan shakes his head, his voice rising. “It’s not the same thing, Y/N! I chose this life. I worked for it. You ... you were born into it. And you lied about it. To me, to everyone here.”

“I didn’t have a choice!” You shout, surprising yourself with the intensity of your emotion. “Do you think I wanted to lie? Do you think I enjoyed keeping this secret? I was trying to stay alive, Logan. I was trying to protect myself and the people I care about. Including you!”

Logan takes a step back, his eyes wide. For a moment, silence hangs heavy between you.

“Protect me?” He finally says, his voice low. “How does lying to me protect me?”

You take a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “The less you knew, the safer you were. And ... the more I fell for you, the more I wanted to keep you separate from that part of my life. To keep this — us — untainted by all of that.”

Logan’s expression softens slightly, but the hurt is still evident in his eyes. “Y/N ... I get that you were in a difficult position. I do. But relationships are built on trust. How can I trust you now?”

His words cut deep, and you feel fresh tears welling up. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “But I want to try. Logan, please. What we have ... it’s worth fighting for, isn’t it?”

Logan runs a hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is ... it’s a lot to process. I need time to think.”

You nod, your heart sinking. “I understand. I just ... I hope you can forgive me. Eventually.”

Logan looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “I hope so too. But right now I think we both need some space.”

As he turns to walk away, you feel a piece of your heart go with him. “Logan,” you call out, your voice breaking.

He pauses but doesn’t turn back. “Yeah?”

“I really do love you,” you say softly. “That was never a lie.”

Logan’s shoulders slump slightly. “I know,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. And then he’s gone, disappearing into the growing darkness of the park.

You stand there for a long moment, tears streaming down your face, feeling more alone than you ever have before. The sound of distant camera shutters reminds you that your private world has well and truly shattered.

With a heavy heart, you pull out your phone to call your aunt and uncle. It’s time to face the music, to deal with the fallout of your exposed identity. But as you dial, all you can think about is the look of betrayal in Logan’s eyes, wondering if you’ve lost him for good.

As you wait for your aunt to pick up, you gaze out at the Florida skyline, the twinkling lights now seeming cold and distant. For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to imagine a different life — one where you’re just Y/N, an ordinary girl in love with a boy who races cars. But reality crashes back in as your aunt’s worried voice comes through the phone.

“It’s time to come home,” she says, and you know she doesn’t just mean back to the house.

Your summer of freedom, of love and normalcy, is coming to an end. As you give your aunt your location for pickup, you can’t help but wonder … was it worth it? The joy, the love, the heartbreak — would you do it all again, knowing how it would end?

As you spot your uncle’s car approaching, you realize with a start that yes, you would. Because for a brief, shining moment, you knew what it was like to be truly, completely yourself. And no crown, no duty, no threat could ever take that away from you.

***

The Florida sun beats down mercilessly as you sit on the porch swing of your aunt and uncle’s house, listlessly flipping through a magazine. It’s been a week since the paparazzi incident, a week since your world turned upside down. The threats back home have been neutralized, your security team assures you, but it feels like a hollow victory.

Your aunt’s voice drifts from inside the house. “Y/N, darling, are you sure you don’t want to come to the beach with us?”

“I’m sure, Aunt Maggie,” you call back, forcing a cheerfulness you don’t feel into your voice. “You and Uncle George go ahead. I’m fine here.”

As the sound of their car fades away, you let out a heavy sigh. Fine is the last thing you are. With only a week left before your scheduled return to England, you feel like you’re in limbo, caught between two worlds and belonging to neither.

The sudden roar of an engine pulls you from your melancholy thoughts. A sleek sports car you recognize all too well pulls up in front of the house. Your heart leaps into your throat as Logan steps out, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in jeans and a simple t-shirt.

For a moment, you both freeze, eyes locked on each other. Then Logan takes a hesitant step forward. “Hi,” he says, his voice carrying a mix of nervousness and determination.

“Hi,” you reply, barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

Logan runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you’ve come to recognize as a sign of his anxiety. “I ... I needed to see you. To talk to you. Can we ...” He gestures vaguely towards the porch.

You nod, moving over on the swing to make room for him. Logan sits, careful to leave space between you, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

Finally, Logan breaks the silence. “I owe you an apology,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way I reacted when I found out ... it wasn’t fair to you.”

You shake your head, feeling a lump form in your throat. “No, Logan. I’m the one who should be apologizing. I lied to you, kept this huge part of my life secret. You had every right to be angry.”

Logan turns to face you, his green eyes intense. “Maybe. But I’ve had time to think. To really process everything. And I realized something important.”

“What’s that?” You ask, hardly daring to breathe.

“That it doesn’t matter,” Logan says simply. “Princess, commoner, whatever — it doesn’t change how I feel about you. Because the girl I fell in love with? She’s real. Royal title or not.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. “Logan ...”

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “Let me finish, please. I talked to my family, tried to sort out my feelings. And I kept coming back to one thing — how I feel when I’m with you. How you make me laugh, how you challenge me, how you see me for who I am, not just what I do.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “Being with you ... it’s the freest I’ve ever felt.”

Logan’s thumb traces circles on your palm, sending shivers up your arm. “I know we have a lot to figure out. The distance, the media attention, our careers ... it won’t be easy. But Y/N, I think what we have is worth fighting for. If you’ll have me, that is.”

You can’t hold back your tears any longer. They fall freely as you launch yourself into Logan’s arms, burying your face in his neck. “Of course I’ll have you, you idiot,” you mumble against his skin.

Logan’s arms tighten around you, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank God,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I could bear losing you again.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. “I’m so sorry. For lying, for putting you in this position. I never meant to hurt you.”

Logan cups your face gently, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m sorry too, for not giving you a chance to explain. For letting my hurt and pride get in the way of what really matters.”

“And what’s that?” You ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“Us,” Logan says simply. “You and me. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his. “Together,” you repeat, loving the sound of it. “I like that.”

Logan’s lips curve into a smile. “Me too. Now, can I please kiss you? Because I’ve been dying to do that since the moment I saw you on this porch.”

You laugh, a sound of pure joy and relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”

As Logan’s lips meet yours, you feel like you’re coming home. The kiss is tender and passionate all at once, an apology and a promise wrapped into one. When you finally part, you’re both breathless.

“So,” Logan says, his arms still wrapped around you. “What now, Princess? Because I have to say, I’m a little out of my depth here. Is there some royal protocol for dating I should know about?”

You can’t help but giggle at the mix of humor and genuine concern in his voice. “Well, traditionally, you’d have to ask my father for permission to court me. Preferably while wearing a powdered wig and breeches.”

Logan’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

You pat his cheek affectionately. “About the wig and breeches, yes. About talking to my father ... that might actually have to happen at some point.”

Logan gulps audibly. “Right. Talking to the King of England. No pressure or anything.”

You snuggle closer to him on the swing. “He’ll love you. How could he not?”

“I hope you’re right,” Logan says, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Because I’m not giving you up without a fight, royal decree or not.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the simple pleasure of being in each other’s arms again. But reality begins to creep in, and you feel Logan tense slightly.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “What about ... I mean, you’re leaving in a week, right?”

You nod, feeling a pang in your chest. “Yes. The jet is being sent to pick me up next Saturday.”

Logan takes a deep breath. “And then what? I mean, for us?”

You sit up, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I want to make this work, Logan. More than anything. But I won’t lie to you — it won’t be easy.”

Logan nods, his expression serious. “I know. The distance, our schedules ... not to mention the media circus that’s bound to happen when word gets out.”

“Are you sure you want to deal with all that?” You ask, voicing the fear that’s been nagging at you. “It’s not too late to back out, to go back to your normal life.”

Logan’s hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Y/N, look at me.” When you meet his gaze, he continues, “My life stopped being normal the moment I met you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Whatever challenges we face, we’ll face them together. Okay?”

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Okay,” you agree softly.

“Besides,” Logan adds with a mischievous grin, “dating a princess might actually be good for my image. Think of all the sponsorship deals I could get.”

You gasp in mock outrage, swatting his arm. “Logan Sargeant! Is that all I am to you? A ticket to better endorsements?”

Logan laughs, pulling you back into his arms. “Busted. It was all an elaborate scheme to get my face on a tea towel.”

You can’t help but join in his laughter, marveling at how easily he can lift your spirits. As your giggles subside, a thought occurs to you.

“You know,” you say slowly, “there might be a way to make the distance a little more manageable, at least for a while.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I’m all ears, Princess.”

You take a deep breath, hoping you’re not overstepping. “Well, the F1 season isn’t over yet, right? There are still races in Europe ...”

Logan’s eyes light up as he catches on. “Races where a certain princess might be able to make an appearance?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of excitement. “It would be a good opportunity to show support for British motorsport. Purely diplomatic reasons, of course.”

Logan’s grin widens. “Of course. Very diplomatic. I’m sure the press won’t read anything into the Princess of Wales suddenly becoming a racing enthusiast.”

You lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Let them talk. As long as I get to see you, I don’t care what they say.”

Logan’s expression softens. “You really mean that, don’t you? You’re willing to face all the scrutiny, the gossip, just to be with me?”

You nod, your voice firm. “You’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

Logan pulls you close, burying his face in your hair. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”

As you sit there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other’s arms, you know that the road ahead won’t be easy. There will be challenges, obstacles, moments of doubt. But looking into Logan’s eyes, seeing the love and determination there, you know you can face anything as long as you’re together.

The sound of a car approaching breaks the moment. You recognize your aunt and uncle’s vehicle coming up the driveway.

Logan tenses slightly. “Should I ... do you want me to leave?”

You shake your head firmly. “No. Stay. It’s time they met the real you, not just the boy next door.”

As your aunt and uncle pull up, looking surprised to see Logan there, you stand up, hand-in-hand with the man you love. You’re ready to face whatever comes next, be it nosy relatives, prying media, or the complexities of a long-distance relationship between a princess and an F1 driver.

Because now you know — home isn’t a place. It’s not a palace in England or a beach house in Florida. Home is wherever you and Logan are together. And that’s a feeling worth fighting for.

***

The Florida sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon as Logan’s car pulls up to the private airstrip. The sleek private jet waiting on the tarmac is a reminder of the reality you’re about to step back into. Logan cuts the engine, but neither of you move to get out, both reluctant to face the inevitable goodbye.

“So,” Logan says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I guess this is it, huh?”

You turn to him, taking in every detail of his face as if trying to memorize it. “Not it,” you insist. “Just ... see you later.”

Logan manages a small smile, reaching out to take your hand. “Right. See you later. In England. Where you’ll be a princess again.”

You squeeze his hand. “I’ll always be me, Logan. Title or no title.”

“I know,” he says softly. “It’s just ... it’s going to be different, isn’t it? You’ll have responsibilities, obligations. And I’ll be ...”

“The man I love,” you interrupt firmly. “No matter what.”

Logan’s eyes soften at your words. “I love you too. I’m going to miss you so much.”

You lean across the center console, pressing your forehead against his. “I’m going to miss you too. But we’ve got a plan, remember?”

Logan nods, his breath warm against your skin. “Right. The plan. Want to run through it one more time? You know, just to make sure we’ve got it down.”

You can’t help but smile at his attempt to prolong the moment. “Okay, let’s see. You’ve got ten more races this season, right?”

“Yep,” Logan confirms. “Zandvoort, Monza, Baku, Singapore, COTA, Mexico, Brazil, Vegas, Qatar, and Abu Dhabi.”

“And I,” you say, sitting back slightly to meet his gaze, “will be making surprise appearances to as many as I can. To support British motorsport, of course.”

Logan grins. “Of course. Very diplomatic of you.”

“Then,” you continue, “once the season’s over, you’ll be spending more time at the Williams headquarters in Grove.”

“Which, coincidentally, is just a short drive from London,” Logan adds with a wink.

You nod, feeling a flutter of excitement despite the impending separation. “And I’ll make sure to have plenty of reasons to visit Grove. Lots of ... local businesses to support.”

Logan laughs, the sound warming your heart. “I’m sure the people of Grove will greatly appreciate the royal attention.”

“Then there’s Christmas,” you say softly. “I talked to my parents, and ... they want to meet you. Properly.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. “Christmas with the royal family. No pressure or anything.”

You cup his cheek gently. “They’ll love you, Logan. How could they not?”

He leans into your touch. “I hope you’re right. Because I plan on sticking around for a long time, Princess.”

“Good,” you say firmly. “Because I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Logan’s smile fades slightly as his gaze drifts to the waiting plane. “We should probably ...”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. We should.”

With a deep breath, you both step out of the car. Logan moves to the trunk to retrieve your luggage while you take a moment to compose yourself. As he joins you, bags in hand, you’re struck by how domestic this feels — and how much you wish this was just a normal trip, not a return to a life an ocean away.

“Your chariot awaits, Your Highness,” Logan says with an exaggerated bow, trying to lighten the mood.

You roll your eyes fondly, but play along. “Why thank you, kind sir. Your service to the Crown is most appreciated.”

As you walk towards the plane, Logan’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers. “You know,” he says casually, “I’ve been thinking about taking some flying lessons. Might come in handy for, oh, I don’t know ... surprise visits to England?”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “Logan Sargeant, are you planning on becoming my personal pilot?”

He grins, that mischievous sparkle you love so much dancing in his eyes. “Well, I figure if I can handle an F1 car at 200 miles per hour, a plane can’t be that much harder, right?”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” you say, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“Details, details,” Logan waves his free hand dismissively. “The point is, I’m going to find ways to see you. Even if I have to learn to fly, sail, or ... I don’t know, teleport.”

You stop walking, tugging on his hand to make him face you. “You know you don’t have to do all that, right? I mean, I love that you want to, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to change your whole life for me.”

Logan sets down your bags, taking both your hands in his. “Y/N, listen to me. You are worth changing my whole life for. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about finding ways to make our lives fit together. Because that’s what I want — a life with you in it.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes. “I want that too. So much.”

Logan reaches up to brush away a tear that’s escaped. “Then we’ll make it work. Whatever it takes.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. “Whatever it takes,” you repeat softly.

The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the moment. You turn to see the pilot standing a respectful distance away.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Highness,” he says, “but we need to begin boarding if we’re to make our departure time.”

You nod, straightening your shoulders. “Of course. Thank you, Captain. I’ll be right there.”

As the pilot retreats, you turn back to Logan. “I guess this is really goodbye.”

Logan pulls you close, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Not goodbye. Never goodbye. Just ... until next time.”

You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. “Next time,” you murmur. “The Netherlands, right?”

“The Netherlands,” Logan confirms, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be the one in the Williams car, trying not to crash while looking for you in the stands.”

You can’t help but laugh, even as tears threaten to fall again. “Please don’t crash. I quite like you in one piece.”

Logan pulls back slightly, cupping your face in his hands. “No promises. You’re pretty distracting, Princess.”

Before you can retort, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that takes your breath away. It’s tender and passionate, a promise and a farewell all at once. When you finally part, you’re both breathless.

“I love you,” you whisper, your foreheads still pressed together.

“I love you too,” Logan replies. “Now go, before I decide to jump in the cockpit of that plane and fly us both to some remote island where we can just be us.”

You laugh, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace. “Don’t tempt me. That sounds pretty perfect right now.”

Logan picks up your bags again, walking with you the last few steps to the plane’s stairs. “Your royal carriage, m’lady,” he says with another exaggerated bow.

You shake your head fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it,” he counters with a grin.

“I do,” you admit softly. “I really do.”

With one last lingering look, you start up the stairs. At the top, you turn back. Logan is still there, watching you with a mix of love and longing that makes your heart ache.

“Hey, Logan?” You call down.

“Yeah?”

You smile, feeling a sudden surge of certainty despite the impending separation. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

Logan’s answering smile is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Yeah, Princess. We’re going to be more than okay. We’re going to be amazing.”

With those words echoing in your heart, you finally step into the plane. As you settle into your seat, you watch through the window as Logan returns to his car. He stands there, hand raised in farewell, until the plane begins to taxi.

As the ground falls away beneath you, you close your eyes, already counting the days until the Dutch Grand Prix. The path ahead won’t be easy — you know there will be challenges, misunderstandings, moments of doubt. But you also know that what you and Logan have is worth fighting for.

You’re leaving behind the carefree summer days of Florida, returning to the responsibilities and expectations of your royal life. But you’re taking with you something precious — the knowledge that you are loved for who you are, not what you are. And that, you realize, is the greatest gift of all.

As the plane soars over the Atlantic, you allow yourself to dream of the future — of stolen moments at race tracks, of quiet evenings in London, of a love that bridges oceans and transcends titles. It won’t be easy, but then again, the best things in life rarely are.

You’re a princess and he’s a race car driver. On paper, it shouldn’t work. But as you drift off to sleep, Logan’s last words replay in your mind.

“We’re going to be amazing.”

And you believe him. Because with Logan by your side, how could you be anything else?

***

The Texas sun beats down mercilessly on the Circuit of the Americas as Logan adjusts his fireproofs, preparing for another round of interviews. It’s his home race and the pressure is palpable. He’s been struggling all season, the weight of expectations and the constant comparisons to his teammate wearing him down.

As he walks towards the waiting journalists, Logan can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. You had told him you couldn’t make it to this race, citing royal obligations back in England. He understands, of course, but the thought of racing on home soil without you in the stands feels hollow somehow.

“Logan! Over here!” A reporter waves him over, microphone at the ready. “How are you feeling about today’s race?”

Logan pastes on his media-ready smile, falling into the familiar rhythm of pre-race interviews. “I’m feeling good, you know? It’s always special racing at home, and the energy here at COTA is incredible.”

“There’s been a lot of talk about your future with Williams,” another journalist chimes in. “Any comments on the rumors that your seat might be in jeopardy for next season?”

Logan’s smile falters slightly, but he recovers quickly. “I’m focused on doing my best in every race, including today’s. The future will take care of itself.”

As he continues answering questions, Logan’s gaze drifts over the bustling pit lane. Mechanics scurry about, making last-minute adjustments to the cars. Team personnel hurry back and forth, clipboards and tablets in hand. It’s a familiar scene, one he’s witnessed countless times before.

But then, something catches his eye. A flash of familiar hair, a silhouette he’d recognize anywhere. Logan blinks, sure he must be seeing things. But no — there you are, walking down the pit lane as if you belong there (which, he supposes, you do in a way).

“Logan?” The interviewer’s voice seems distant. “Logan, can you tell us about your strategy for today’s-”

But Logan isn’t listening anymore. His jaw goes slack, eyes wide with disbelief as he watches you approach. You’re dressed casually in a flowing maxi dress, your hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. To Logan, you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“I ... uh ...” Logan stammers, completely losing his train of thought. The interviewer follows his gaze, her own eyes widening as she recognizes you.

A hush falls over the pit lane as heads turn to watch your progress. You seem oblivious to the attention, your eyes locked on Logan. A brilliant smile lights up your face as you break into a run.

Logan barely has time to brace himself before you’re launching yourself into his arms. He catches you instinctively, spinning you around as laughter bubbles up from his chest.

“Surprise!” You exclaim, pulling back just enough to see his face. “Did you really think I’d miss your home race?”

Logan shakes his head in amazement, still not quite believing you’re here. “But you said ... how did you ...”

You grin mischievously. “I may have told a tiny white lie. Royal prerogative and all that.”

Logan laughs, setting you down but keeping his arms wrapped firmly around your waist. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” you reply with a wink.

It’s only then that Logan becomes aware of your surroundings again. The entire pit lane has gone silent, all eyes on the two of you. Cameras flash incessantly, capturing what must be the most undignified public display the Princess of England has ever made.

Logan feels a moment of panic. “Y/N,” he whispers, “everyone’s watching.”

You shrug, seemingly unconcerned. “Let them watch. I’m just a girl supporting her boyfriend at his home race.”

The casual use of the word ‘boyfriend’ sends a thrill through Logan. Despite the months you’ve been together, sometimes he still can’t quite believe this is real.

A throat clearing nearby breaks the moment. Logan turns to see James Vowles approaching with a bemused expression.

“Your Highness,” James says with a slight bow. “This is ... an unexpected honor.”

You turn to face him, your arm still wrapped around Logan’s waist. “Mr. Vowles,” you greet him with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced. I was just so eager to see how our British team is faring.”

James nods, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. “Of course, we’re always delighted to host you. Perhaps you’d like a tour of the garage?”

“That would be lovely,” you reply, your voice sweet but with an undercurrent of steel that makes Logan’s eyebrows raise. “I’m particularly interested in discussing team strategy. And driver management.”

Logan feels you tense slightly beside him, and he suddenly realizes what you’re doing. His heart swells with a mixture of love and awe.

James seems to pick up on the shift in atmosphere as well. “I see,” he says carefully. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange a meeting after the race-”

“Oh, I think now would be perfect,” you interrupt, your smile never wavering. “After all, I’m quite invested in the success of this team. Particularly when it comes to nurturing young talent.”

Logan watches in fascination as James visibly squirms under your gaze. He’s never seen his usually unflappable team principal so wrong-footed.

“Of course, Your Highness,” James finally manages. “Shall we step into the hospitality area for some privacy?”

You nod graciously, but before following James, you turn back to Logan. “For luck,” you murmur, pulling him down for a quick kiss that leaves him breathless and the watching crowd buzzing with excitement.

As you walk away with James, Logan overhears snippets of your conversation.

“I do hope, Mr. Vowles,” you’re saying, your voice light but with a clear edge, “that Williams is committed to giving all its drivers equal opportunities to succeed. It would be such a shame if rumors of ... unequal treatment were to reach certain ears.”

Logan watches in awe as James nods frantically, clearly understanding the implied threat behind your words.

“And these whispers about potentially dropping Logan,” you continue, your smile never faltering. “I’m sure they’re just baseless rumors. After all, it would be terribly short-sighted to let go of such promising talent, don’t you think?”

As your voice fades into the distance, Logan stands rooted to the spot, a goofy grin spreading across his face. He’s vaguely aware of the chaos around him — journalists clamoring for comments, team members and rivals alike shooting him curious glances — but all he can think about is you.

You, who flew across an ocean to surprise him. You, who jumped into his arms without a care for protocol or propriety. You, who’s currently backing his team principal into a corner with a smile and a veiled royal threat.

In that moment, Logan Sargeant knows without a doubt that he has never been more in love.

A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his reverie. He turns to see Alex grinning at him.

“Mate,” Alex says, shaking his head in disbelief, “when you said you were dating a princess, I thought you were having us on. But that? That was ...”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, still a bit dazed. “She’s something else.”

Alex laughs. “Understatement of the century. You better hold onto that one, Sargeant. And maybe put in a good word for the rest of us with her royal highness? I wouldn’t mind having that kind of backing in contract negotiations.”

Logan chuckles, finally snapping out of his stupor. “Sorry, Albon. This princess is spoken for.”

As Alex walks away, still shaking his head and laughing, Logan takes a deep breath. The pre-race nerves that had been plaguing him all morning have vanished, replaced by a surge of confidence and determination.

He may not know what the future holds — for his career or for his relationship with you — but in this moment, he feels invincible. Because no matter what challenges lie ahead, he knows he has you in his corner.

With renewed purpose, Logan heads towards the garage. He has a race to prepare for, after all. And now, more than ever, he’s determined to prove himself worthy of the faith you’ve placed in him.

As he reaches the garage entrance, he catches sight of you emerging from the hospitality area, James trailing behind you looking slightly shell-shocked. You spot Logan and wink, giving him a thumbs up.

Logan grins, blowing you a kiss before disappearing into the garage. He has a feeling this is going to be his best race yet. And win or lose, he knows he’ll have you waiting for him at the finish line.

And really, what more could a guy ask for?

[fastandcarlos]

Ray Of Sunshine : ̗̀➛ Logan Sargeant

summary: even on the darkest of days you're always there to make logan smile again somehow

You knew the moment the door slammed how your evening was going to unfold.

Your eyes didn’t even need to look up as you heard familiar mumblings under someone’s breath, heavy footsteps trudging through the driver’s room, sighs released every so often. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as Logan entered, his dejected state was something that you had to come to expect supporting him recently, nothing seemed to fall his way and his was becoming a harsher critic of himself with every week that passed. You could only take so much, hating the way the races seemed to beat any positivity out of him.

“I give up,” he despairingly grumbled.

It was the same each week, you sat in your own bubble and gave Logan a moment to let go of his frustrations. Everything he touched was slammed back down, every little problem was blown way out of proportion, and the Williams hoodie that he wore was taken off as quickly as possible. To say that luck wasn’t on Logan’s side was an understatement, you could see for yourself that every little thing that could go wrong was going wrong for him right now. Once his usual steps were complete, you stood up and placed your hand gently against Logan’s shoulder, feeling his body tense up as soon as he felt your touch on him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

There was a pause between you before Logan reacted, turning his head to glance back at you. There was no emotion on his face, his energy was empty, not even you seemed to be able to bring any enthusiasm back into Logan again.

After a few moments he simply smiled back at you before stepping away, leaving you stood in confusion in the middle of the room. You were used to Logan taking a little while to respond to you after a disappointing race, but even this was extreme by his standards. Most of the time you at least saw a hint of a smile on his face, but Logan had nothing left. His eyes were nowhere near as bright as they usually were, his confident stance had disappeared, replaced by a man who looked as if he couldn’t take the constant bottom place finishes any longer.

“It’s going to get better,” you tried to tell him, keeping your eyes firmly on Logan. “It’s not always going to be this way.”

“I can’t see any way out right now,” he admitted, letting go of yet another sigh. Your heart sunk as you listened to Logan, watching him scuff his feet along the floor before taking a seat, head in his hands.

“You’re a talented driver Logan, your time is going to come soon enough.”

“Yeah? When?!” The sudden rise in Logan’s voice made your body freeze, not expecting to be struck by such a harsh tone. “Every week I get humiliated by my team, my car, they’ve made it so clear they don’t want me anymore, so what’s the point of doing this anymore?”

You were left speechless by Logan’s sudden outburst, running your hands over the top of your head. Part of you wanted to run, but you knew deep down Logan couldn’t stand being left alone with his own thoughts after the race that he’d had. Despite how hard you tried to get him to see the positives, he just couldn’t do it, despite how encouraging you always tried to be with him. You tried your best to get Logan’s feelings, to sympathise with him but you had never been in that car, those dreaded team meetings, never had to hear the remarks that so many experts made about him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that.”

A faint whisper came from across the room, capturing your attention. Logan’s soft eyes looked across at you, his hand stretching out, offering for you to take a hold of it. Instantly you could hear how genuine Logan was in his voice, if there was one person who didn’t deserve to have all of this taken out on them, it was definitely you.

“You might not think it, but I’m disappointed too that this is how things are going right now,” you spoke, taking a hold of Logan’s hand.

I would do anything to make this better for you, to give you all of the things that you deserve and make sure you’re acknowledged for the amazing human being that you are.”

“I don’t need anything else when I’m with you.”

His reply captured you, it left you stunned as your wide eyes looked across at him. The smallest of smiles appeared on Logan’s face as he realised how shy you had suddenly become, feeling your heart race as you stumbled over your words, not quite sure what to say.

“Everything else might suck, but that doesn’t matter when I know that I’ve got you,” Logan whispered, pulling you close to him.

“You’re always going to have me, I’m your biggest fan, remember?” You chuckled, nudging gently against Logan’s side. You intertwined your hand in tighter with his, giving it a slight squeeze.

“I don’t think I’d carry on doing this week in week out if it wasn’t for your support,” Logan noted, his sincere eyes sticking on you. Your head shook as you met his gaze once again, you had every confidence that Logan would achieve his dreams, even when he could only doubt himself.

“I’m sorry if I ever make you feel like I don’t appreciate you,” Logan added, “because I really do. It must be frustrating for you too watching me come last every week, I’m sure you’d probably love to be able to see me up on the podium like all of your friends get to do.”

“All of their boyfriends don’t compare to you though,” you grinned, chuckling to yourself.

“Well, I am the most handsome driver in F1,” Logan teased, throwing his free arm across your shoulders, “of course none of those guys compare.”

Your eyes rolled as the familiar character that you had come to know and love started to appear before you again, the deprecating Logan had gone, and the charming one returned.

“I don’t care where you start, finish, or what happens in between, I’m always going to be with you, we’re a team,” you reminded him, leaning your head down so that it rested against Logan’s broad shoulder.

In Logan’s room was where the two of you stayed for most of the evening, shutting yourselves out from the chaos of the paddock. There was noise all around you, but none of that mattered, you had each other, and that was all that counted, especially to Logan anyway. Beyond those four walls he didn’t care what anyone else had to say about him, because he had you, his bright sunshine, even on those cloudiest of days.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lovings4turn]

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 rum and revelations . . . (l.s.)

— after one too many drinks at a party, logan forgets how to keep his own secrets. but drunk words are sober thoughts, right? (1k words)

+ inspired by this ask from my lovely dolly — i know this was a sugar n spice saturday ask but it just made my mind go BRRR so i had to write a full fic!

+ contains fluff, drinking and drunk behaviour, mentions of vomiting but no one is actually sick. divider from cafekitsune

“woah, sorry!”

before you can react, logan is slumped against your side, essentially placing his full body weight onto you. high-pitched laughter escapes his lips as he attempts to steady himself, placing a hand onto the wall you’re both leaning against as he regains his balance.

there’s no mistaking it. he’s drunk. absolutely shit-faced, to be more precise. 

but you can’t really blame him. all of his hard work and determination had finally paid off, and just a few hours earlier he’d earned his first points of the formula one season. what kind of friend would you be to deny him the chance to celebrate? especially when such a large party had been thrown, a friend of one of logan’s friends offering up their house to host.

“feeling okay?” you ask, an amused smile tugging at your lips as he lifts his head.

“never better,” he responds. 

even his voice suggests he’s a little worse for wear. his accent has somehow grown thicker, and his words are a little sluggish, slurred together in a blur of vowels and consonants with a meaning wrapped up somewhere in the middle. a couple of glasses of champagne paired with tequila shots and rum and cokes will do that to a person, you suppose.

any conversation dies on your tongue as logan slumps forward once more, warm forehead resting against your shoulder as he emits a low groan. if it weren’t for his shoulders shaking with laughter, you would have been concerned. 

“this is what you call ‘never better’?” you tease. 

without thinking, you lift your hand to his hair, carding your fingers through the blonde strands in a motion that you hope is soothing. logan’s response comes in the form of an incomprehensible groan, and you can’t help but laugh yourself.

“i think it’s starting to hit me,” he admits, removing his head from your shoulder. 

his eyes are a little glazed over, and though he’s smiling, there’s a far away look on his face that indicates the copious amounts of alcohol is starting to catch up with him.

“alright, let’s get you some water,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

you and logan are no strangers to taking care of one another. you had been best friends for the past five years or so, so you’d had your fair share of looking after the other when they got a little too carried away at a party. still, you don’t think you’ve ever seen logan this bad.

you take his hand in yours, lifting his arm until it’s draped around your shoulder in an effort to support his weight. he stumbles alongside you, mumbling inaudible comments to himself and bursting into gratuitous laughter as he trips over his own feet. 

some divine force must be on your side, as you’re able to find an empty room without trouble. god knows how you would have reacted if you’d… interrupted something between two other partygoers. 

you lead logan over to the queen sized bed, sitting him down despite his protests that he’s perfectly capable of doing it on his own. luck was certainly with you, as the room you’d selected bore an ensuite bathroom. 

“wait here,” you instruct, striding over to the bathroom and filling a glass with cold water.

as the crisp water fills the glass, you check yourself over in the mirror. when you think about it, you’re not sure why. sure, you don’t want to be walking around with smudged makeup, or your hair a mess, but it’s also just logan. he’s seen you at your very worst sober, so why should it matter how he sees you now, when his vision is likely double? 

you thrust the glass into his hand, cupped palm coming to sit under his chin as he greedily downs the liquid. a few droplets hit your hand, and you hold back a shiver at the cold temperature.

“y’okay?”

“i’m not gonna vomit, if that’s what you mean.” he jokes, and you smile back. 

it’s quiet for a moment, until logan speaks again.

“thanks, y/n. i’m sorry, you should be enjoying yourself. yet you’re here taking care of me.” 

logan exhales, throwing himself backwards until his back hits the mattress.

“don’t apologise, logan. if there’s any night for you to get shitfaced, it’s tonight,” you reason, giving him a smile. “anyways, ‘m happy to do it. long as i know you’re okay.”

“you’re too nice,” logan mumbles, his tone once again far away, as though his mind is somewhere else entirely. “y’know, this is why i like you so much. you’re always so nice to me.”

suddenly, your heart is in your throat. 

“what?” you ask, forcing out a laugh.

he’s drunk. you reason. he has no clue what he’s saying.

“i mean, y’always there for me. at every grand prix, even when i’ve fucked a race, you’re in the garage for me. you always answer my calls, and you’re just really nice. and really pretty. my god, you’re so pretty,” logan mumbles.

his eyes are closed, and it’s apparent to you that he has no idea what he’s saying.

“oscar’s tired of me talking about you, actually. though he promises it’s not your fault. it’s mine, for talking about you so much. oscar thinks you’re great.” 

you’re glad he’s out of it, because it would be impossible to hide your flushed cheeks and dropped jaw. 

“of course,” you respond, begging your tone to stay even. “we’re best friends. and i’m fucking amazing.”

logan scoffs a laugh.

“yeah, ‘best friends’. not like i’ve been in love with you since we met or anything.”

it’s clear his tone is begging to be joking, but the alcohol prohibits him from being convincing. your heart is in your throat, and you swallow it down, praying it doesn’t try to crawl back out. instinctively, your hand finds itself in logan’s hair once more and you sigh, biting back a smile.

“we’ll talk when you’re sober, yeah? i think you’ll be quite pleased with how the conversation turns out.”

logan nods at this, leaning further into your touch. when he finally responds, his voice is thick with sleep.

"mm, sounds good. love you."

your heart skips a beat as you smile.

"yeah. love you too."

🏷️ tags : @faerieroyal @starriesworlds @itscrzy

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Drivers At The Eras Tour

♥ masterlist

♥ blurbs for: lewis hamilton, george russell, oscar piastri, lando norris, and logan sargeant

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: none !!!

♥ a/n: in honor of charles, pierre, alex, and kika being at the milan show <3

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴇᴡɪs ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ - He showed up in a very tortured poets department-esque outfit that instantly turned heads. I think he's a folklore fan + knows all the lyrics to so long london because he’s seen too many edits of himself set to that track. He was able to get a picture with Taylor at the end of the concert and it absolutely broke the internet within seconds.

ᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʀᴜssᴇʟʟ - He's secretly (not-so secretly) a Swiftie. He's a 1989 kind of guy who surprised you with the amount of songs he actually knew. George spent some time making bracelets with you a few weeks before the concert but took hours to make a single one. He also got off topic and made ones that said 'Russell' and had a 63 on them. I'm also positive he'd become a carpenter if she was Taylor's opener the night you went.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀsᴛʀɪ - He's really confused about the costumes and bracelets but he has the spirit! On the way home he keeps asking you to play songs he liked from the concert but you could barely tell what any of them were because all his lyrics were all wrong. The next day he makes you explain all the lore regarding thanK you aIMme and the reason for Taylor's Version.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs - He surprised you with tickets to the first Paris show right after his Miami win (because he secretly wanted to attend as well). The minute you showed up about a thousand fans gave bracelets to the both of you and he wore all of them on his wrists proudly. He was enjoying the concert but got especially into it when Fearless started. I firmly believe that You Belong With Me and Love Story were his favorite songs growing up and he still knows all the lyrics.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴏɢᴀɴ sᴀʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ - You absolutely made him dress as Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince with you, but he didn’t get the reference at all. You gave him a few friendship bracelets to give to fans when they came up to him and while exchanging gifts someone gave Logan their pink cowboy hat. He was pretty sad when you didn't get Teardrops On My Guitar as a surprise song so he made you play it on the car ride home.