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maxinehufflepuffprincess · 19 hours ago

Text

Mother

BangChan x fem! reader. 9th member.

(Sorry if this is at all cringy or stupid or whatever. After the last fic I made for these guys, I thought about making this. After seeing how well received my other fic was, I decided to go ahead with making this. I'm kind of enjoying this whole Motherly 9th member thing that I'm doing. Thank you for enjoying my stories.)

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update.

Summary: You're the mother of the group, and the boys have no problem playing into the role.

You have been a part of Stray Kids since the beginning. You were Chan's right-hand woman and second in command. Your dynamic was very Husband and Wife. Father and Mother. You were quickly deemed the ‘Mother’ of the group. Due to how nurturing you were and how sweet you were with the boys. Stay was quick to pick up on how you and Chan worked so well together, especially when it came to taking care of your seven boys.

With your motherly role, it was only natural for your Skzoo to be a bear, that despite her having an actual name, she and you were both dubbed ‘Mama Bear’. And much like you, your Skzoo was often seen being motherly to the rest of the Skzoos. She could be seen cheering on Puppym when he danced and always giving BbokAri hugs, or breaking up fights between Leebit and Jiniret.

Of course, the boys themselves all played into this whenever they pleased. Felix and I.N. were the two who played into it the most. They had you wrapped around their fingers, and they knew it. They got away with more than they should. But they were your babies, so it was okay. You loved all the boys. You always made sure to be there when they needed you. All nine men were your world. So you always wanted to show them that ad to show how much you loved and appreciated that. You were incredibly proud of each and every one of them.

—------------

Chan let out a small sigh as he sat down. You were all in the middle of dance practice. For now, though, you were all having a ten-minute break. Chan's eyes watched you as you grabbed some water bottles, handing them to the boys sprawled out on the floor and couches.

You turned to look at Chan, who quickly opened his arms for you. You made your way over to him and sat down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around you. You handed him his water before opening your own and drinking some of your water. The room was quiet for a moment. The only sounds were panting, groaning, and water bottles opening. Everyone had worked really hard.

“Ah! I think I'm dying.” Hyunjin groaned out as he draped himself across I.N.'s lap. Innie was quick to push Hyunjin off of him.

“Die over there.” I.N. let out a small huff as he watched Hyunjin place a hand on his heart, acting wounded.

Changbin got up and walked over to Hyunjin and pulled his body close to him. “I'll save you! Mouth to mouth will help.” Changbin puckered his lips and slowly moved closer to Hyunjin’s face.

Hyunjin slapped a hand on Changbin's face and pushed him away. “Yah, no.” He backed away, but Changbin followed.

“I'll make it better. Let me love you!” Binnie's voice was getting louder.

Hyunjin jumped up and ran to the opposite side of the room. Changbin wasn't far behind as he ran after the taller male, arms open. “Come back! We're married!”

Hyunjin took cover behind Felix and Han. Which then sent Changbin into a full game of trying to catch at least one of the three. Soon enough, all seven boys were playing. I.N. got dragged into the game by Felix. Seungmin got dragged in by I.N. Han used Minho as a shield, only to have the tables turn when Binnie caught Minho, who in turn immediately caught Han. Everyone was laughing, shouting and having fun. Hyunjin let out a scream whenever he was almost caught.

You and Chan watched the boys with smiles on your faces.

“They're yours when they're this loud.” Chan told you with a small shrug of his shoulders as he turned to look at you.

You grinned. “No. They get their loudness from you. They get their fun side from me, though.”

Chan let out a gasp. “I'll have you know, I'm the fun parent.”

You let out a laugh. “Mmhm, sure you are.” You gently bumped your shoulder against him. “I think bossy suits you better.”

Chan's eyes went wide. “Yah! Take that back.” He said as he moved closer to you.

“Nope.” You wiggled out of his arms and jumped up.

Chan got up and took a step towards you. You turned and ran off. Chan quickly chased after you. And so the eight of you all chased each other. The thought of practice quickly escapes you all. Chan would have caught you if it wasn’t for Binnie accidentally running into him whilst he was chasing Seungmin.

Ten minutes passed of pure fun, of everyone trying to grab each other and tripping over one another. Chan did manage to catch you, peppering your face in kisses after he did so. Eventually, though, it was time to work again.

Chan clapped his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get back to work!” He called out loudly to get everyone’s attention.

The boys all stopped but complained. They were just having too much fun.

“Don’t make me have to ask for the AMV.” He told the groups.

Han frowned in confusion. “The AMV?”

Chan gestured towards you. “Angry Mother Voice.” That was enough to get the boys into their starting positions.

Chan walked past you, and your hands connected in a high five. “Works every time.” You told him happily.

He kissed your cheek and nodded in agreement. “They hate making their mother raise her voice.” He winked and walked over to the music. Soon enough, the nine of you were dancing in sync.

—------------

It was Mother’s Day. A day meant for celebrating mothers. The boys all had plans to call their mothers that day. You were on tour, so spending the day with their mothers sadly wasn’t an option. So, FaceTime was the next best thing. Thankfully, though, they were all able to make plans for when you all returned home.

You blinked awake. You took a moment before rolling over. Chan had an arm wrapped around you. His free hand ran through your hair. You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours.

“Morning, baby.” He spoke quietly.

“Morning, my love.” You replied to him with a soft smile on your face. You stretched and slowly sat up.

“I don’t want to get up.” He told you with a small whine.

You let out a soft giggle. “I know. But I would love to get breakfast.”

The moment you said those words, the door to your bedroom opened and in piled the other seven members of the group. Leeknow stood in front with a tray full of food. Hyunjin was holding your favourite flowers. Whilst Felix had a big gift in his hands for you.

“What’s all this?” You asked in confusion.

Minho set the tray on your lap. “Can’t we do something nice for you?” He asked you in an almost offended tone.

“Of course you can.” You said softly as Hyunjin and Han got to work putting a vase and the flowers on your desk.

“Thank you, boys.” You looked at the food to see all your favourites. There was even some of Felix’s brownies on a separate plate.

Chan sat up and reached over to grab a strawberry, only for Minho to slap his hand away. “Yah! That’s not for you.”

Chan looked at you. “Geez, nice to know who the favourite is.” You laughed and gave him a strawberry.

You happily ate the food as the boys all lounged around your room, doing as they pleased. You all talked about the upcoming day. They were all excited for the concert. You may have been a little sneaky. You knew the boys were upset about not getting to spend Mother’s Day with their mums. So you organised everything and were able to fly their parents out for the show.

The boys didn’t know. Well, Chan knew what the surprise was. He only found out because he walked in on you whilst you were calling his mother to talk about it all. So he had decided to help you plan everything. He even split the costs with you, saying he wanted to help. The parents were going all be together, in the perfect place, so they could sit down, so that the boys could spot them.

You finished eating your food and thanked the boys once again.

“Here, open this.” Felix excitedly said as he held up the present.

Minho took the tray from you and set it to the side so that Felix could put the present on your lap. You carefully opened it, only to be greeted by a beautiful painting. It was one of the nine of you. A painting of one of your favourite pictures. You were all at the beach. You and Chan were sitting on a blanket, watching the sun set as you shared strawberries. Leeknow and Han were sitting on the sand making a sandcastle with I.N., who was sipping on his favourite drink. Seungmin was being chased by Changbin. Finally, Felix and Hyunjin were both in the water, not to deep but enough to have fun.

“Hyunjin painted it. But it was Seungmin’s idea. Ayen and I found the picture for Jinnie to recreate.” Changbin said with a smile on his face.

“I love it. Thank you so much. Jinnie, this must have taken ages. Thank you.” You were proud of his art skills. “I think I’ll put it above the bed.” You said with a soft nod, panning to put it up later.

Chan opened the top drawer of his bedside table and pulled out another present. You once again opened it. There in your hand is a pretty, velvet red box. You then opened the box and smiled. Inside was a necklace with all eight boys' names on it and what you assumed were their birthstones. Plus your birthstone in the centre.

“It was Han and Felix’s idea for this one. But Minho and I went to get it done.” Chan told you with a small nod of his head.

“Chan,” You spoke softly. It hadn’t clicked in your mind yet why they were doing this. “You do know it’s not my birthday, right. I appreciate the gifts. Thank you.”

Chan shrugged. “We know. We just wanted to show you how important you are to us.” He said, taking your hand in his. He gently kissed your knuckles.

After hugging each of the guys, you eventually had to get up. You showered, happily humming to yourself. When you made it back to your room, the painting was already above your bed. You got changed, and soon you were all off to start the day.

========

It was later that night. The concert was in full swing. You were about halfway through. Your outfit suited you perfectly, and you felt comfortable. You had on the necklace that Chan had given you that morning. By this point, the boys had all spotted their parents.

There you all stood in the middle of the stage. Chan waved to everyone as I.N. and Changbin sneaked off backstage. You didn’t notice as Leeknow was distracting you with jokes.

“Everyone knows what day it is today. So from all of us, we want to say Happy Mother’s Day to all the mums out there.” Chan spoke into his microphone. “Especially to our mums who are thankfully here watching us today, all thanks to one very special lady.” He turned to look at you.

You blinked up at him and lightly smacked his chest. “Yah! I told you not to tell them it was me.” You whined it as you bounced lightly on the spot.

Chan chuckled and shook his head. “We also wanted to celebrate said special lady, for stepping in as a mother for the boys whilst they're away from their mum’s.”

Han placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you lightly.

You let out a shocked laugh. “But, today is about mum’s. I’m not an actual mum. I just pretend to be.” You told the boys in confusion.

“We know and we want to show you how much we appreciate your efforts. You’ve been looking after these boys since day one. You’ve been parenting them alongside me, watching them grow. I know you’re not their mum. But you’re the next best thing, Sweetheart.” Chan took your hand in his gently.

Tears filled your eyes. “Chan. You’re gonna make me cry.” Your bottom lip trembled.

Minho couldn’t help but smile. “You’re always making sure I’m fed whilst I’m busy feeding everyone else. You always get excited to listen to me talk about my cats. You always make sure I’m taking breaks when I’m focused on dancing. You always make time to listen to my worries,” He gently patted your back.

Changbin and I.N. made their way over to a spot on the stage. They placed a small table down and placed a cake on top of it. They then made their way over to you. Binnie took Leeknow’s spot and hugged you tight.

“You helped teach me to cook. It took a while, but I’m getting there. You’re always encouraging me at the gym. Even if you don’t like working out, you’ll do it because it means spending time with me in a place that’s second nature to me.” Binnie pulled away from the hug and wiped away some of the tears that had begun to fall.

Hyunjin then came to your other side. “I know you send my mum clips of me dancing when we’re in rehearsal. I know you have a group chat with all of our moms to keep them updated about us so they don’t mess out on anything. Thank you. You spoil me rotten, and I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much I appreciate it. You keep buying me all these amazing art supplies. You’re always making sure I’m not too hard on myself when I can’t get a step right. You always play into my dramatics and let me get away with acting like a complete fool.” He held your hands in his and squeezed them gently.

“How do you know about that?” You asked him as you squeezed his hands back.

“Ayen’s mum told him. He said that she told him she was happy he had so many people taking care of him. That you were filling a role in his life that he needed in person. They can’t always be here; you can. So you fill the role we need from you. Friend, Sister, Mother, Mentor, Cheerleader. You don’t even realise you’re doing it.” You quickly hugged Hyunjin and smiled up at him through your watery eyes.

“You boys are the sweetest.” You told him with a small giggle.

“We’re about to get sweeter,” Han said from behind you. He moved and hip bumped Minho out of the way. Minho immediately hip bumped him back.

Han gripped onto you to keep his balance. “Anyway. You’re one of the best pillows I’ve ever had. You’re always so gentle when you wake me up. You never want to startle me awake. I’m grateful for that. I know you always put extra food on my plate when I’m not looking. You’re always there when my anxiety takes over or when I have a panic attack. Thank you.” He then gave you a tight side hug.

Hyunjin stepped to the side as Felix came bouncing over to you. He immediately wrapped you in a hug. “I love you.” He said with a smile as he pulled away from the hug. His own eyes filled with tears.

“You always let me hug you. It doesn’t matter if we’re in the middle of practice, or cooking in the kitchen or if I’m crawling into bed with you. You’re always there with open arms for me. You’ll let me cuddle up to you like a baby, and a part of me loves it. You’re always giving me massages whilst I do it for everyone else. You bake with me, and it always feels like a good bonding moment with you. You let me play with your hair, and you always help me when I want to dye mine. You always make sure I have enough food and that I’m comfortable. So, thank you for that.” He then hugged you again. The two of you cried into each other for a little bit before Felix was gently pulled away by Chan.

Seungmin took Felix’s place and placed a hand on your shoulder. “You give me confidence. Whenever I get nervous about doing something without the group, you always make me feel better about it, more confident. You let me tease you like there's no tomorrow. I get away with more than I probably should. But even when I’m cheating in a game, you're still always there, cheering me on and praising me for my creative thinking. You’re someone I can go to when I need to talk. You never judge. But you always listen.” The male then kissed your cheek softly before letting I.N. take his place.

I.N. stood in front of you with a smile. “You’re always saving me from the Hyungs. You always have my favourite coffee ready in the morning. You always put a blanket on me when I fall asleep. You’re always willing to listen to me ramble about whatever I want. Whenever I want something, you never hesitate to get it for me, even when you don’t need to. You do it because you enjoy buying things for the people you love. You always seem to know when I’m ready for a hug or when I’m not feeling physical touch. You always know. You always encourage me when I’m singing or dancing.” He wrapped up in a quick hug before pulling away.

By now, you were crying. Most of the boys were as well.

Chan walked to your side and placed a hand on your hip. “You make an impact even when you don’t realise it. Which is why the boys wanted to celebrate you.” He wiped your tears away. “One, two, three.”

“Happy Mother’s Day!!” The boys all cheered in perfect unison. The eight men all surrounded you in a tight hug. You stayed like that for a while before Changbin pulled away. “We got you a cake.” He said. He took your hand and walked you over to the table. There it was. A pretty cake, your favourite colour and flavour. It was perfect.

“I love you guys so much.” You told them as you let out a sob. You turned to face their parents. “Thank you for trusting me to look after your boys. I know it mustn’t have been easy at the start. To trust a random girl with looking after your sons. Making sure they go to school, sleep and practice. Making sure they’re happy and healthy, and safe. So, thank you for trusting me to be that for them.” You bowed to them before the boys pulled you back into a tight hug. Chan placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“We love you, too.” He whispered to you.

—------------

You stood in the kitchen with Minho and Chan. The three of you were cooking for everyone. The nine of you were recording a SkZ Code episode, and having lost rock, paper, scissors, the three of you were left with doing the cooking. Which was different to usual. The three of you often found yourselves cooking. Seungmin had found his way into the kitchen, having been bored. He didn’t do much cooking-wise, but he did set the table after you asked him to.

The food was now ready to be served. “Puppy, can you call the others in, please?” You asked him, a sweetness in your voice.

Seugmin nodded and immediately went off to find the others. Whilst he did that, Minho and Chan put the food on the table. You made drinks for everyone.

Seungmin walked in with Felix following behind him.

“Where are the others?” You asked curiously.

Seugmin shrugged. “Yongbok was the only one who listened.”

“You four, sit down. I’ll go get those ignorent sods.” You left the room and made your way outside, where the others were. Han and I.N. were playing catch, Hyunjin was relaxing, and Binnie looked like he was asleep. “Yah!” You shouted, quickly getting their attention. “Want to tell me why we’re all out here and not inside? Seungmin came out to get you all. So tell me why, Felix was the only one to come inside?” You crossed your arms over your chest and frowned at them.

“We um…” No one had an answer.

“Inside now. One of you wake Changbin up. If the four of you are not at the table within the next minute, you’ll be going to bed without dessert and without food. And I want you all to apologise to Seungmin for ignoring him.” It was an empty threat for the most part. You’d never deprive the boys of food. You’d only deprive them of dessert.

Hyunjin quickly shook Changbin awake. The four boys made their way inside and to the table. You stepped inside and closed the back door. You made it to the table in time to hear the apology. You sat down in your seat between Chan and Leeknow, across from Changbin.

“Alright. Let’s eat.” And they did. You fed Leeknow and put food on Chan and Felix's plates as Minho took care of giving the others extra food. The nine of you began sharing the food and happily eating. You enjoyed the days you all got to sit like this and eat, like a family. It could be a home-cooked meal at one of the dorms. Or it could be something you ordered whilst at the studio whilst you all practised. Or room service whilst you all chill in one of the hotel rooms whilst on tour. Either way, family dinners were your favourite. Everyone always laughed and had something to say. It always turned fun and made you all laugh. Good food and even better company.

—------------

Hyunjin looked through the paints in front of him. There were so many choices, and he was struggling to decide which set to get. He picked up two palettes and sighed. He turned to face you.

“What do you think? Water paints or oil?” He asked you curiously.

You shrugged. “We’ll i’ve been enjoying your water paintings recently. But you seem really into the oil paintings at the moment, so maybe the oils?” You suggested.

Hyunjjin bit his bottom lip and nodded lightly. “Maybe. They are both pretty.”

You let out a soft sigh and took the two palettes from him. “How about this, I’ll buy you both.” You told him. “You get the brushes you wanted, and I’ll get you these.”

Hyunjin shook his head and held a hand out to you. “You don’t have to do that. I can get them myself.” He told you. Whilst he was one of the ones who tended to just shrug when you offered to pay for him, he still always liked to push back. Even just a little. Because the reality was that you didn't have to buy him things. You didn’t have to spoil him like he was your son, and it was her birthday or Christmas. So he always liked to make sure. He never wanted you to think you had to buy him anything.

You never did feel pressure or anything of the sort when it came to buying things for any of the guys. It was one of your love languages.

“Jinnie, I know. But I’ll get these for you this time, okay? You focus on picking the perfect brushes you want.” You then went to the counter and paid. You made your way back to Hyunjin and helped him pick the brushes he wanted. Once he was done, he paid for the brushes and the two of you left the store.

“Thank you for these, seriously. You didn’t have to.” You just smiled up at him.

“I know I didn’t. But I wanted to.” You placed a hand on his arm and gently squeezed it to reassure him. “Now, come on. Binnie is waiting for us so we can go to lunch.”

Hyunjin grabbed your hand and the two of you walked outside with all your bags, and there were a lot of bags. Binnie helped the two of you carry everything to the car once he saw the two of you.

The three of you piled into the car before driving off towards your favourite lunch spot. All the while, Hyunjin played music whilst you and Binnie bikered over who was playing for lunch this time. You had paid last time, so he thought it was only fair if he got to spoil you this time, because whilst you spoiled everyone else, the boys took it in turns to spoil you in return.

—------------

Han shifted in his seat. The nine of you were in the middle of the interview, answering questions. Han was the next person to answer a question. He leant forward and picked up a piece of paper.

"What is the person on your right's contact name in your phone?” Han turned to look at you, who was on his right. The two of you smiled at each other.

“Oh, I have her down as Mumsy. We all have something Mother-related for her contact name in our phone.” He nodded with a smile on his face.

Seungmin nodded from his place beside Chan. “Felix started it.” He said simply.

Felix frowned in confusion as his head quickly turned to look at Seungmin. “Me? How did I start it?”

“Because she called you when we were out at lunch, and the contact name came up as ‘Mummy Bear’. So I.N. changed it in his phone from ‘Noona’ to ‘Mama Bear’, and I changed mine for her from ‘Chan’s wife’ to ‘Mother Bear’ because you said it just fit her perfectly and that we should all match. We all even have the same bear emoji at the end.” Seungmin said with a shrug.

Hyunjin grinned. “I have her down as Sugar Mama.” His face and tone told you all how proud he was of that. He was practically preening.

“Why Sugar Mama?” You asked in confusion as you turned to face him.

Hyunjin frowned at you. “Because you're always buying us stuff. Whenever we go somewhere or order food, you just hand us your card and tell us you'll pay. We all have your card saved on our phones. Well, except Chan.”

Minho nodded. “Some of us don't use your card, though. Unlike Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “She said I could.”

“You could have bought those shoes on your own.” Han added.

“Like how you could have bought those new headphones on your own.” Hyunjin shot back.

“Yah! That's enough.” You clapped your hands together once. The boys all looked at you. “I wanna know what the rest of you have me as in your phones.”

Leeknow grinned. “I have you down as Soonie, Doongie and Dori's Grandma.” He nodded his head with the toothiest grin.

“Grandma? I'm not old enough to be a grandma.”

“And yet, as your eldest son, I have three sons. Therefore, you are a grandma.” Leeknow told you as Chan rubbed your shoulder. “Sorry. It's time you accept your old lady now.”

That made you both giggle and pout. It was sweet, though. You turned to look at Changbin.

The male grinned. “Milf.” The guys gasped in dramatic horror.

You placed a hand on your chest. “You think I'm a milf? Oh Binnie, that's so sweet.” You fanned your face with your hands. “He thinks I'm a milf. Seven children and I still look good.”

Han reached over to Changbin and slapped his knee. “Yah! How could you say that about our mother?”

“I blame Chan.” I.N. spoke up with a smile on his face.

Chan had a puzzled look on his face. “Me? I didn't do anything. I have her as ‘Mother of my kids’ in my phone.”

I.N. nodded. “Exactly. You made her a mother. So you need to take responsibility.”

Chan pulled a face before turning to look at you. “What do you have us as in your phone?” He asked, shifting the attention off of himself and back onto you.

You smiled brightly. “Well, I have Chan as ‘Father of my kids’ with a kiss emoji. In brackets, it says Hubby. Minho is ‘Maniac Chief Son’ with a cat emoji. Then, in brackets, it says Cat Daddy. Um, Binnie's is ‘Strong Cute Son’ with an emoji of the guy lifting weights. Hyunjin's contact name is ‘Artistic Princely Son’. It has the art palette emoji thingy. In brackets, it says Drama Queen. I have Han as ‘Sleepy First Born Son’. With the Squirrel emoji. Lixie is ‘Cuddly Angelic Son’. He has the light blue heart emoji. In brackets, it says Baby Boy. Minnie is ‘Adorable Menace Son’. Dog emoji, obviously and in brackets it says Puppy. Because, obviously, it does. Last but not least, Innie is ‘Smiley Baby Son.’ With a fox emoji. So yeah, mine all have the word son in there. Well, except for Channie.”

The interviewer looked at you, puzzled. “If Leeknow is the eldest of the rest of the boys. Why is Han your firstborn?” She asked.

You couldn’t help but grin. “Ah, so technically it’s because Han was the first Stray Kids that Chan chose. However, we made up some lore for it to make sense differently. It’s like Skz family but in an alternate universe. So, how it works is that Changbin is Chan’s child. Leeknow and Hyunjin are mine. In the world, Chan and I meet and eventually are married. Our children get along. Then the twins came alone. Han is the firstborn child that Chan and I had together. Lixie is Han’s twin, but being a day apart was difficult. We don’t speak of their birth. Then we had Seungmin and then Ayen.”

Leeknow slowly nodded. “I kept telling her she could have picked a better husband, but she never listened to me.” Hyunjin let out a cackle and clapped his hands as he leaned on Changbin to stabilise himself.

Chan looked over at Leeknow in betrayal and shock. “I’m a great father and husband. Thank you very much.”

Leeknow shrugged. “My mother deserves the best. You are not the best.”

Seungmin nodded. “You’re too old.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement after calming himself. “Only the best for our beautiful mother!”

—------------

You were all spending the next week and weekend on Jeju Island. Everyone had gone off to their rooms to shower and change. You were already snuggled in your bed, showering, and getting into your preferred pyjamas. Chan was in the shower. So in the meantime, you had the TV on, looking for something to watch on Netflix.

A light knock came from the bedroom door. Then the door opened, and a mop of blonde hair was seen. His bright smile made you smile. He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. The male then made his way over to you and slipped under the covers beside you.

“You okay, Angel?” You asked him curiously.

Felix nodded. " I wanted to show you some TikToks I think you'd like.” He handed you his phone with the first video ready to play.

“That's sweet of you.” You said and placed a kiss on his temple.

Felix quickly snuggled into you. His head lay on your chest, his arms wrapped around you as he cuddled into your right side. Your right hand came up and stroked through his hair as you played the video with your left hand.

Felix had always found it easy to snuggle with you. He enjoyed that you just let him. That you welcome with open arms. He felt safe in your arms, plus in his opinion, you gave some of the best hugs. Plus, you were easy to fall asleep on, which was a bonus in Felix’s eyes. He always found himself falling asleep easily to the sound of your heartbeat and your fingers running through his hair.

“Did you enjoy the beach today, Sunshine?” You asked him softly as you scrolled to the next video.

Felix nodded as he snuggled closer to you. The sound of your heartbeat was making him completely relax. It was something he had found that helped him a lot in the early years of the group being formed. You didn't mind; you always welcomed him with open arms.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun. Minho Hyung did well in the water this time.” He said with a sleepy smile on his face. “Had fun burying Changbin with Jinnie and Han.”

You placed a soft kiss on his forehead as you continued to stroke his blonde hair. “I'm glad you had fun, baby.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, laughing at TikTok videos that Felix had found for you to watch. Felix had slowly begun nodding off just before the bathroom door opened. Chan stepped into the room. He was at first surprised to see Felix in the bed, but the surprise quickly faded. Chan grabbed his phone and took a quick photo of the two of you. You later found out that Chan uses it now as Felix's contact photo in his phone. You have the picture on your private Instagram account.

Chan then climbed into bed beside you. He took the phone from you and placed it on charge beside yours and his. He then turned the TV off and placed the remote on the bedside table before lying on his side and placing an arm around your stomach. He placed a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away. “When did Lix get here?” He asked curiously, his voice quiet.

“Just after you went into the bathroom.” You told him with a soft smile. Your fingers are still stroking Felix’s hair. “Our baby just climbed into bed and started cuddling. We’ve been watching TikTok.”

Chan couldn’t help but smile as he watched the two of you. His heart swelled with pride. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.” He told you. He knew it. You were his future. You had both talked about the future you wanted together. Chan was adamant that you were going to be the perfect mother after the practice you’ve had with your seven basically adapted at this point sons.

“She already is.” Felix’s sleepy, quiet voice filled the air before he finally drifted off to sleep.

That had your eyes filling with happy tears. Chan wiped away a tear that began to fall. “He’s right. You’re already a good mum.”

“Thank you.” You spoke quietly.

Felix snuggled closer to you as he slept. Chan held you close. “Sweet dream, my love.” He whispered to you.

“Sweet dream, my heart.” With one final kiss, the two of you slowly began to fall asleep.

—------------

It was always fun when you got to share the stage with the Skzoos. The moment you saw Mama Bear, you happily skipped over to her and hugged her tightly. She, of course, hugged you back. You pulled away and watched the boys for a moment. It was going to be a fun day, that much you were sure about.

The boys and Stay all agreed that you and Mama Bear were the perfect mirror image of each other, personality-wise. That was proven right tonight as you walked down the stage holding Chan’s hand. Behind you both was Mama Bear and Wolf Chan doing the exact same thing. The next day, you found pictures and videos of the moment captioned as ‘Just parents on a double date’.

Eventually, you and Mama bear made your way away from the Chan and his Wolf. The two of you danced a bit before spotting Felix and BbokAri. You made your way over to the two. You wrapped your arms around BbokAri from behind. Mama Bear copied your actions, hugging Felix. BbokAri looked around and turned around in your arms, causing you to giggle. She then gave you a big hug once she was facing you. You looked over to see Felix doing the same thing. You and Mama Bear then switched. Felix happily sank into your hug.

“How are you doing?” You asked him curiously.

Felix just smiled. “I’m good. We’re having fun.” You nodded softly.

“Good, I’m glad.”

You and Mama Bear then made your way over to I.N. and FoxI.Ny. The four of you found yourselves holding hands and jumping in circles together. After spending time with your two foxes, you and Mama Bear found yourselves stroking Han Quakka to help smooth out her face, as Hyunjin, Leeknow and Seungmin had previously been messing around stroking up as they always did. Quakka gave you a big hug as a thank you.

You ended up watching proudly as Mama Bear stepped in between Leebit and Jiniret to stop them from fighting. Of course, it was all fun and games. Changbin had fun effortlessly picking you up and passing you to Dwaekki. You even danced alongside PuppyM, who was going all out as usual.

Sadly, though, soon enough it was time for the Skzoos to go. Whilst the others all left with a wave and kisses, PuppyM was desperately trying to get one more dance in. You being you didn’t let seeing any of the Skzoos upset.

You raised your microphone to your lips and spoke. “Wait!” The boys looked at you in confusion as you jogged over to PuppyM.

“How about this? You can do one more dance, Pup. Then Mama Bear will walk with you to join the others. How does that sound?” You asked. PuppyM nodded, and the crowd cheered.

“Alright. Boys. Sing for PuppyM.” So they did. The boys sang whilst PuppyM danced. You stood to the side, cheering PuppyM on with the crowd. Once the song was over, you smiled.

“Let’s give PuppyM a big round of applause.” You clapped happily before taking PuppyM’s hand and walking him over to where Mamabear and some of the staff were waiting. Puppy gave a few more waves before taking Mamabear’s hand and walking off the stage.

“You’re such a good grandmother!” That had your eyes going wide as you turned to face the boys.

“Excuse you?” You asked in shock.

Leeknow let out a laugh. “You’re a good grandmother.” He repeated like it was common knowledge.

You placed a hand on your chest. “We’ve been over this. I’m not old enough to be a grandmother. You take that back, you gremlin!” You stepped towards the male.

“He’s right. I mean, no matter how you look at it, the Skzoo’s are your grandchildren. Their either the children of your children-” I.N. pointed to himself, Felix, Seugmin, Hyunjin, Han, Leeknow and Changbin. “Or they are the children of MamaBear, who is also your child, and Wolf Chan, who is Chan’s child. So either way, grandmother. He’s a granddad.”

Chan let out an exaggerated sigh.

You stood frozen for a moment and licked your bottom lip. You let out a sarcastic laugh. You walked over to Felix and wrapped him in a hug.

“Congratulations, my Angel. You have been promoted to my only favourite human child. My sweet baby.”

Felix let out a squeal of excitement. “Yes!!” He pulled away to do a little dance before hugging you again.

I.N. pouted as the other boys laughed. “He can’t be your only favourite. I’m also your baby. Me, Felix and MamaBear. We’ve got you wrapped around our fingers. He can’t be the only favourite out of the two of us.”

Felix stuck his tongue out at I.N. “Tough luck, Buttercup. Shouldn’t have called her a grandma.”

Han then stepped forward with a question. “So, as a granny, does that mean that BbokAri is your favourite grandchild or is your favourite PuppyM?” It was a genuine question. He was curious.

You looked over at Leeknow. “You have my permission to spank him into next week.” That ended up with Leeknow chasing Han around the stage until Chan picked him up, allowing Leeknow to get revenge for you.

—------------

You had decided to spend the day in the studio with Chan, Binnie and Han. Today, everyone was recording their lines. Han had just finished his lines and was currently napping on the couch with his head on your lap. He had the eyemask you brought for him on, so the lights didn't wake him up. You were currently sewing up a part of the blanket you kept in the studi,o as it had somehow gotten ripped.

“Who's next after, Minnie?” You asked softly. Though you knew Han could sleep through all the noise in the world, you were still cautious about being too loud.

“Ayen is next, he will be here soon to record his lines,” Chan spoke as he turned to look at you. He couldn't help but smile at you. You smiled back at him.

Chan turned back around in his chair as he prepared to continue working. He placed a hand on the red button that would allow Seungmin to hear him.

“Alright, Seungmin. Let's try it one more time.” He said.

Seungmin nodded. He hadn't been happy with himself today, so he kept retrying his lines. The male adjusted his headset as the music played. He then began to sing.

The moment he began to sing, you could feel it. You didn't just hear the words, you felt them. To say you were proud was an understatement. You always thought that Seungmin's voice was utterly angelic. It was moments like these that proved you write.

Chan played it back for Seungmin to hear. He then turned to you. “What do you think?” He asked, pushing the button for Seungmin to hear you.

“I think that's the one. You can hear the sadness in his voice. He felt it that time. Plus, that little riff he did scratched my brain in the right way. You did perfectly, sweetheart.” You said as you finished up with the blanket. You passed it to Changbin, who placed the blanket in its usual spot.

Seungmin grinned. “That's the one.” He said in agreement.

Chan nodded in agreement. “You're done for the day, Min.” He told him with happiness in his voice.

Seungmin grabbed his stuff after taking off his headset. He left the booth and came to sit on the couch. He had decided he would be waiting for I.N., as the two had plans for after Innie's session.

“You did great, Puppy.” You told him as you gently stroked Han's hair.

Seungmin nodded softly and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

The studio door opened, and in came a pouty I.N.

The male quickly turned to you. “You're here. Minho Hyung said you were here.” He said, relief filling him.

“Yeah, I'm here.” You nodded in confusion. Has he been looking for you?

I.N. pulled out his hoodie from his bag. “It ripped. Could you please fix it? Please, Mama bear?”

Of course, how could you possibly say no to I.N., your youngest? Your Makenae. One of your babies? He had those big, sweet eyes that made you utterly melt. He was very good at making it hard for you to say no to him. It was something that he, Felix and Seungmin had perfected over the years.

“Of course, my lovely. Pass it here and I'll sew it whilst you do your lines.” You said holding out a hand to take the hoodie from him. Thankfully, you hadn't put your sewing kit away yet.

Innie greeted everyone before going to the booth. Whilst he recorded his lines, you sat there sewing up his hoodie sleeve. You gave feedback here and there when your opinion was asked for. Han was still fast asleep, his head on your lap. Chan was working well with I.N., explaining everything in a way that I.N. instantly understood, allowing the male to easily record his lines. Binnie sat beside Chan, gushing over how cute I.N. was. Meanwhile, Seungmin was on his phone, playing a game, just enjoying the atmosphere.

Innie finally left the booth just as you finished with his hoodie. He happily took it from you and kissed your cheek. “Thank you, you're a lifesaver.” He said before putting the hoodie on.

Seungmin got up and grabbed his stuff.

“Where are you boys heading?” You asked them curiously.

Seungmin smiled. “We're getting dinner at that new place that opened up.” He said happily, having wanted to try it since he heard about it.

You nodded and grabbed your phone. You pulled out your bank card from your phone case pocket and held it out to the two youngest members of the group.

“Use my card. Call it a treat for doing so well today. I'm proud of you both.” They had both learnt by now that arguing against using your card would never work. So Seungmin gently took it from you and placed it in his wallet.

“Thank you, Mother bear.” He said before hugging you. He quickly turned to Chan, a mischievous smile on his face. “This is why she’s our favourite parent. Take notes.” He then nodded and walked towards the door. “See you all later.” He waved.

I.N. also hugged you. “Thank you, Mama Bear.” The two boys waved at everyone.

“Have fun.” And with that, the two boys left. Changbin got up and grabbed your sewing kit, and placed it in your bag so you wouldn't have to move and disturb Han. You thanked him happily with a soft smile. The male then headed toward the booth.

Chan turned to you. “You spoil them too much.”

You scoffed playfully. “As if you don't.” You said with a raised eyebrow

The two of you shared a smile before Chan turned back to work. You gently shook Han's shoulder.

“You gotta wake up, hun. We need your help with recording Binnie's lines. You can sleep again once he's done.” And you kept that promise. Because the moment Changbin was finished, Han found his way back to you and fell asleep within minutes.

—------------

Everything Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @thecheshireprincess @potato-vagina @spanish-delulu-23 @deliciousmagazinequeen @myblovedjyh @alex--awesome--22

SKZ Taglist: Thank you for supporting me. @jinnie-ret

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jraker4 · 3 days ago

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If you think American economic and military aid is given anywhere for just one reason, you're a bigger idiot than your meme would suggest, which is saying something. For instance: the region being a powderkeg that contains vital resources for the American economy in particular and the global economy in general? Not only that, your own link doesn't say what you say it says. Speaking of not reading something. You're also profoundly ignorant of regional affairs if you think the only thing keeping Egypt from attacking Israel is our aid. I suppose you think Egypt is big fans of Palestinians in general and Hamas in particular, right? They're all Arabs, they gotta be friends, amirite? Idiot. I did, in fact, read the whole article, and the part your triggered snowflake as is whining about is irrelevant to the point you're trying to make: you're claiming that 'that money should go to Americans!' What money, you tedious fucking idiot? 0.01% of our budget? OK! You get to wave your swastika-tipped wand and tomorrow your wish is granted: no more aid to Israel. We're saved! After all, America's problems are solved with a 0.01% budget bump, right? Not to repeat myself, but it keeps being true: you're a fucking idiot. The problems you claim to want to solve-relief for poor Americans (and having spent about ten seconds reading what you say, I know immediately that that is fucking bullshit, too), would not be solved by cutting foreign aid to Israel to 0. In fact, if we took back all $330b in aid they've ever received over nearly 70 years, that still wouldn't solve the problems you're pretending to care about. As for 'Muslim hordes', don't pretend everyone thinks like you, shit for brains:) Even today in 2025, proud Nazis like yourself are few and far between. Not nearly as far and nearly as few as you should be, of course, which is unfortunate. Likewise with your tedious white replacement fragile bullshit. You are right about exactly one thing, though: perhaps we'd have less antagonism from Arabic Muslim countries if we'd said a further fuck-you to refugees from the Holocaust than we did during the Holocaust, or if we'd let Arabic Muslim nations (and Iran) wipe them out more than once. I'm fine with us, y'know, not having made that choice:) Make sure you keep on whining about that, bud! You're a Nazi, after all, what else do you have to do but whine about failing to wipe out the Jews? Well, that and getting your shit pushed in by the 'decadent' West and the 'Communist hordes', I suppose. Your list of things to whine about is pretty long! I guess I find it funny that Israel exists, and being a Nazi is illegal in Germany:) There is some justice in the world, at least. That being said, I'm not Jewish, and it's not my homeland. I realize that in what passes for a brain for you, to support a group means you must belong to it, but out here in the rest of humanity, that's not always true. Make sure you keep on not learning that lesson, shit for brains:) Also, seriously? You're gonna pretend to be antagonistic to genocide? I guess in your circles, people are such stupid dickriding jackasses that they'll buy into that, but again, out here even on tumblr, if you say 'no I dress like the SS', you're not opposed to genocide. Rats in a hole? Sweetie, your cult is outlawed where it started. Israel is flying daylight missions over the capital of one of its worst enemies. Mere projection, once again:)

Really puts "taxation is theft" into perspective.

I wonder what America would looked like if, for just a few years, they spent all that money they take actually on America. 0 foreign aid, just actually use tax dollars how they're supposed to be used for like 3 years, it'd be amazing.

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emjayewrites · 21 hours ago

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according to lyric • lyric hamilton [private landing one shot]

SUMMARY: Growing up Hamilton may have its perks, but living life as Lewis Hamilton's son isn't what it's all cracked up to be....or is it?

WARNINGS: cursing, nepo baby ish, celebrity children, f1/racing b.s.

WORD COUNT: 10K+

TAGLIST: @4ftwonder, @iamryanl, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @totallynotluluu, @omgsuperstarg, @amirawrah, @imjustheretomanifest, @greedyjudge2, @muglermami, @irishmanwhore, @barcelonesa, @lewisangel, @scorpiobleue, @iam-lulu, @lewlewlemon44, @lewismcqueen, @purplelewlew

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a Private Landing one shot. Read the story here to understand the characters. This is also first person POV....

The Colorado mountains stretched endlessly in front of me as I sat on the deck of our family cabin, my legs propped up on the railing, watching Larke attempt to teach Brutus and Maximus some elaborate trick through the holographic pet training app she'd downloaded. The dogs were old now - Roscoe's boys - but they still had that stubborn Hamilton streak that ran through everything in our family, including the four-legged members.

"Lyric, tell your sister that dogs can't learn quantum physics," Mama called from the kitchen, her voice carrying that amused exasperation she'd perfected over twenty-one years of dealing with us Hamilton kids.

"Larke, the dogs said they're more of a classical mechanics family!" I shouted back, earning myself a middle finger from my little sister.

Real mature, sis.

"They're smarter than you think!" she yelled back, but Brutus had already given up and was sprawling in a patch of sunlight, completely unbothered by her academic ambitions for him.

This was our thing - winter break at the Colorado cabin before the chaos of the new racing season kicked into gear. Pops had bought this place years ago when I was still karting, back when Larke was just a baby who cried through most of his races on TV. Now here we were, me at twenty-one and working as her race engineer, her at eighteen and already making history every time she got behind the wheel.

Wild how life works out.

My phone buzzed with a text from Laura - L'waura in my contacts because I'm apparently still five years old at heart and it never fails to get an eye roll out of her when she sees it.

L'waura 💕: Miss you already. Stockholm is gray and depressing without your stupid jokes.

Me: My jokes aren't stupid, they're sophisticated comedy that you're too Swedish to understand

L'waura 💕: I'm literally Danish-British you absolute muppet

Me: Tomato, tomahto. Still love you though

L'waura 💕: Unfortunately I love you too. Say hi to your family for me

"Yo, Abel!" I called out as I spotted him emerging from the guest room, looking like he'd just woken up from the best sleep of his life. "Laura says hi to everyone, including your ugly mug!"

"Your girlfriend has excellent taste," Abel grinned, dapping me up with that elaborate handshake we'd developed over the past few months. Kid had grown on me, I'll admit it. Plus, anyone who could keep up with Larke's intensity deserved respect.

"She really does. That's why she's dating me and not you."

"Mate, I'm spoken for," Abel laughed, nodding toward where Larke was now trying to convince Maximus to participate in her holographic training session. "Besides, your sister would murder me if I even looked at another girl."

"True. She's got that Hamilton protective streak. Very possessive."

Pops emerged from the house carrying three cups of coffee, settling into the chair next to me with that contented sigh he always did when we were all together like this. At fifty-eight, he still moved like the athlete he'd always been, but there was something softer about him now. Less of that razor-sharp intensity that had defined his racing years, more of the man who'd taught me how to ride a bike and fix engines and treat people with respect no matter who they were.

"Morning, boys," he said, handing Abel a cup. "Sleep well?"

"Like the dead, sir. This altitude is no joke."

"Stop calling him sir," I laughed. "You're practically family now. He's just Pops. Or Lewis if you're feeling fancy."

"I'm still getting used to it," Abel admitted. "Six months ago I was watching him on TV, now I'm drinking coffee with him in Colorado."

"Six months ago I was convinced you were going to break my daughter's heart and I'd have to end your football career," Pops said casually, taking a sip of his coffee.

"And now?"

"Now I'm only mostly convinced."

"Lewis!" Mama's voice carried from the kitchen.

"What? I'm being nice!"

Abel looked between us, clearly not sure if Pops was joking or not. I decided to help him out.

"He's messing with you, mate. If he actually thought you were going to hurt Larke, you wouldn't be here. Trust me."

"Plus," Pops added with a grin, "Lyric's the one you should really worry about. He's got that protective big brother energy."

"Please. I'm a lover, not a fighter," I protested. "Though I am six feet tall now and I've been working out, so..."

"You bench pressed the bar yesterday," Abel pointed out. "Just the bar."

"Hey! That bar was heavier than it looked!"

Rude but accurate.

________

That night, after dinner and way too much wine (for the adults) and hot chocolate (for those of us who were apparently still children according to Mama), Pops suggested we take a walk around the property. It was one of those clear Colorado nights where you could see every star, the kind of sky that made you feel small and infinite at the same time.

"So," Pops said as we walked, our breath visible in the cold air. "How are you boys feeling about the new season?"

"Excited," I said immediately. "The car's looking incredible, Larke's driving better than ever, and I think we've got a real shot at the championship."

"Nervous," Abel added. "Not about the racing, but about the attention. Larke's getting more famous by the day, and football's ramping up too. It's a lot to navigate."

"The attention never gets easier," Pops said thoughtfully. "But you learn to manage it. Focus on what matters, ignore the noise, and remember that most people are just trying to live their lives and don't actually care about your personal business."

"Most people," I emphasized. "The rest are complete psychopaths who analyze your grocery receipts."

"Lyric's not wrong," Pops laughed. "But here's the thing - you two are building something real together. That's rare in this world. Don't let other people's opinions mess with that."

"Any specific advice?" Abel asked.

"Communicate. Like, constantly. About everything. Schedule, priorities, fears, dreams, all of it." Pops looked at both of us. "And remember that you're both young and figuring things out. There's no rush to have everything perfect right away."

"What about the long-distance stuff?" I asked, thinking about Laura in Stockholm and how hard it was sometimes.

"Make the time you have together count. And when you're apart, be present in your own life instead of just waiting for the next time you'll see each other."

We walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the night air and the kind of conversation that only happened when it was just the guys.

"Can I ask you something?" Abel said eventually.

"Shoot."

"How do you deal with people constantly comparing you to your father? Both of you?"

Ah. There it was. The question everyone was always too polite to ask directly.

"Honestly?" I said. "Some days it's motivating, some days it's exhausting. But mostly I just try to remember that I'm not trying to be Lewis Hamilton. I'm trying to be the best version of Lyric Hamilton."

"Same," I continued. "Like, Larke's not trying to replicate Pops' career. She's building her own legacy. And you're not trying to be anyone else either - you're just Abel, who happens to be really good at football and really good for my sister."

"Plus," Pops added, "people are going to have opinions no matter what you do. Might as well do what makes you happy and let them talk."

"Wise words from the old man," I grinned.

"Old man? Son, I can still outrun you."

"In your dreams, Pops."

"Want to test that theory?"

"Right now? In the snow? At ten thousand feet altitude?"

"Scared?"

Oh, it was on.

What followed was the most ridiculous sprint race in Hamilton family history - three generations of competitive stubbornness playing out on a snowy mountain path, with Abel recording everything because he said it was "content gold."

Pops won, obviously, because genetics are unfair and he's still in better shape than people half his age. But I came in a respectable second, and Abel... well, Abel learned that footballers aren't necessarily built for high-altitude sprinting.

"I'm dying," he gasped, bent over with his hands on his knees.

"You're fine," Larke said, appearing from nowhere with a cup of hot chocolate. "Though you do look like you're about to pass out."

"Your family is insane," he told her.

"You're just figuring this out now?"

_______________________________________________

The view from our family's São Paulo home on a hill was absolutely insane on New Year's Eve - the entire city sprawling out below us, fireworks already starting to pop off even though it was only nine p.m. Brazil always felt like home in a way that was hard to explain, probably because Pops, Larke, and I all had dual citizenship and had been coming here since we were kids.

"Lyric, vem cá!" called Isabela, our housekeeper who'd been with the family for like fifteen years. "Your hair needs work before the party!"

Yes. Isabela gave the best braids, and I'd been growing my hair out specifically for this trip. There was something about having her do my hair that felt like a tradition - she'd been braiding it since I was little, always adding these intricate patterns that somehow looked both classic and fresh.

I settled into the chair she'd set up on the balcony, the warm Brazilian air a perfect contrast to the Colorado cold we'd left behind.

"You're getting handsome like your pai," she said in her mix of Portuguese and English, starting to section my hair. "But you need to eat more. Too skinny."

"I eat plenty, Isa."

"McDonald's is not eating."

"I don't eat McDonald's!"

"Hmm." She clearly didn't believe me, but her hands were gentle as she worked. "Your namorada, she's coming tonight?"

"Laura's in Stockholm still, but she'll FaceTime in for midnight."

"Good girl, that one. Smart. Pretty. You keep her."

Planning on it.

As she worked, I could hear the chaos inside - Larke and Abel attempting to salsa with Uncle Franco and Aunt Aaliyah, who were trying to teach them the steps they'd learned on their honeymoon. Abel was... not good at it. Like, genuinely terrible. But he was trying, which earned him points.

"Meu Deus, your boyfriend has no rhythm," I heard Aaliyah laugh from inside.

"He's English!" Larke protested. "What did you expect?"

"Hey!" Abel's voice carried through the doors. "I have rhythm! Just... not for this!"

Franco was dying laughing, which wasn't helping the lesson at all. Their kids - my cousins Maria and Gabriel - were recording everything, probably for TikTok.

"Done," Isabela announced, holding up a mirror so I could see the back. The braids were perfect - neat, intricate, with a geometric pattern that somehow made me look older and more put-together.

"Isa, você é incrível," I said, giving her a hug.

"Of course I am. Now go take pictures so your followers can see my work."

She wasn't wrong. I pulled out my phone and took a few shots - one serious, one grinning, one with the São Paulo skyline in the background. Posted them to Instagram with the caption:

liked by f1, mclaren, and 200K others

lyrichamilton: NYE ready thanks to the best braider in Brazil 🇧🇷 Obrigado Isa! ❤️

The comments started rolling in immediately:

BRO YOU LOOK SO GOOD those braids are PERFECT you and your dad could be twins I swear daddy Lewis raised you right 😍 sir you are FINE Lewis Hamilton's genetics are undefeated both Hamilton men can GET IT

Ugh, gross. Some of these comments about Pops were just weird. Like, I get that he's objectively handsome and all, but these people needed to chill.

lyrichamilton replied with: y'all are nasty talking about my dad like that. He's literally married to my mother. Get help.

"What are you frowning at?" Larke asked, appearing on the balcony looking slightly disheveled from her dance lesson.

"People being thirsty on Instagram. As usual."

"About you or about Pops?"

"Both. It's disgusting."

She looked at my phone and made a face. "Ew. Block them."

"I can't block everyone. There'd be no one left."

"Fair point. Come inside, Uncle Franco's trying to teach Abel how to dip me and it's going very badly."

This I had to see.

Inside, the living room had been turned into an impromptu dance floor. Mama and Pops were actually pretty good at salsa - they'd learned years ago for some charity event and apparently still remembered the steps. Uncle Franco and Aunt Aaliyah were pure poetry together, moving like they'd been dancing their whole lives.

And then there was Abel, who was holding Larke like she might break while simultaneously looking like he was about to trip over his own feet.

"Mate, you're thinking too much," Franco called out. "Just feel the music!"

"I am feeling the music! The music is telling me I can't dance!"

"Here," I said, stepping in. "Let me show you. Larke, dance with your actually coordinated brother."

What followed was me giving Abel a crash course in basic salsa while dancing with my sister, who was trying not to laugh at both of us. I wasn't amazing at it either, but I had rhythm and I'd been forced to take dance lessons when I was younger (thanks, Mama).

"See? It's all about the hips," I demonstrated, earning wolf whistles from our cousins.

"Your hips lie though," Maria called out, recording everything.

"My hips tell beautiful stories, thank you very much."

By the time we switched partners back, Abel was at least not actively dangerous to dance with. Progress.

"Better?" I asked him.

"I didn't step on her feet that time, so yeah."

"Small victories."

As midnight approached, we all gathered on the terrace with champagne (sparkling cider for me and the cousins) and phones ready for the countdown. Laura's hologram was projected in the center of our group, and even though she was five hours ahead in Stockholm, she'd stayed up to celebrate with us.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" we all shouted together, the fireworks from Copacabana visible in the distance.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

"Four! Three! Two!"

"FELIZ ANO NOVO!"

The sky exploded with color, and everyone was hugging and kissing and shouting. Larke and Abel had their New Year's kiss, Mama and Pops had theirs, and I blew a kiss to Laura's projection while she laughed at me from her Stockholm apartment.

"I love you all!" Larke shouted over the noise.

"We love you too!" everyone shouted back.

Looking around at our family - blood and chosen, present and projected - scattered across Brazil and Sweden but somehow all together, I felt that familiar surge of gratitude.

Tomorrow we'd start gearing up for another season of racing, another year of chasing dreams and managing pressure and living in the public eye. But tonight, we were just us. The Hamilton family, plus one South African footballer who still couldn't salsa, one Danish-British artist beaming in from across the world, and enough love to power this entire city.

"Ready for 2043?" Pops asked, raising his glass.

"Bring it on," Larke said confidently.

"Let's make it legendary," I added.

Yeah, definitely worth it.

The 2043 Formula 1 season had been nothing short of spectacular for Larke. Starting with her victory in Bahrain - where she'd controlled the race from pole position and reminded everyone why the Hamilton name meant excellence in motorsport - she'd gone on a tear that had the entire paddock talking.

Australia came next, another commanding performance where she'd managed the challenging street circuit with the kind of precision that made veteran drivers shake their heads in admiration. By the time we reached the third race, the media was already throwing around words like "dominance" and "historic."

Saudi Arabia was a night race, which meant everything felt slightly surreal - the neon lights, the late start time, the way the entire paddock seemed to be running on caffeine and adrenaline. Larke qualified second behind Kenzo Craigie, which was frustrating but not devastating. Sometimes you had to settle for a front-row start and trust that race pace would make the difference.

Laura had flown in from Stockholm, which was a surprise and also the best possible way to start the weekend. She looked tired from the travel but happy to be there, wearing one of my McLaren shirts and a pair of sunglasses that made her look like she belonged in the paddock.

"Shouldn't you be studying for finals?" I asked when I found her in the garage before practice sessions.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on your sister's car instead of questioning my academic priorities?"

Fair point.

"Besides," she continued, "I wanted to see you work. And Larke asked me to come."

"Larke asked you to come?"

"She said she needed another woman around who understood what it was like to date someone in this world. Apparently I'm now the relationship expert in your family."

Interesting. Things with Abel must have been more complicated than Larke was letting on.

The race itself was a thriller - Larke and Kenzo battling for the lead, wheel-to-wheel racing that had the entire paddock on their feet. In the end, she finished second, which was a great result but I could tell she was frustrated by the missed opportunity.

"Good drive," I told her over the radio as she crossed the finish line.

"Not good enough," came her reply, clipped and professional but I could hear the disappointment.

Later, in the garage while the media circus was happening outside, I found her sitting in her driver's room looking frustrated.

"Want to talk about it?"

"He made a mistake in sector two and I couldn't capitalize on it. Should have been my win."

Racing was cruel that way - sometimes perfect wasn't good enough.

"You drove brilliantly. Sometimes the other guy is just slightly better on the day."

"I hate losing to Kenzo."

This was new - Larke usually had good relationships with the other drivers, but there was something different in her voice when she talked about Kenzo Craigie. Something more personal than professional rivalry.

"Why?"

"Because he's cocky and he thinks he's entitled to everything because he's daddy's protégé and he acts like I only got my seat because of who our father is."

Ah. So it was like that.

"Have you talked to Pops about this?"

"What's he going to do? Tell Kenzo to be nicer to me? That would just prove Kenzo's point about me needing daddy to fight my battles."

She had a point there. The last thing Larke needed was for people to think she couldn't handle her own racing rivalries.

"You know what the best revenge is, right?"

"Beating him on track."

"Exactly. And you will. You're eighteen and already giving him trouble. He's thirty-three and supposed to be in his prime. Time is on your side."

She nodded, looking more determined than frustrated now. "You're right. Besides, Abel's flying in tomorrow and I want to actually enjoy having him here instead of being grumpy about finishing second."

There it was again - the mention of Abel with that slightly complicated expression.

"How are things with you two?"

"Better. We had a really good conversation after our fight. About priorities and communication and what we both need." She picked at her nail polish. "He's been trying really hard to understand the racing schedule, and I'm trying to be better about making time for us even when everything's crazy."

"That's good. Relationships take work, especially in this world."

"Speaking of relationships, Laura's been giving me advice about dealing with long distance. She's smart about this stuff."

Laura was smart about most things.

"Yeah, she is. Also probably good to have someone to talk to who gets it."

"Definitely. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only girl in the world trying to balance being a professional race car driver with having a normal relationship. But Laura makes it seem possible."

If anyone could make it work, it was Larke. She was stubborn enough to have both.

lyrichamilton posted on his instagram!

liked by larke_hamilton, lauraaaaaa, f1, mclaren, and 1.3M others

lyrichamilton: Still the fucking best driver! P2 in Saudi Arabia but we clinched in the WDC! #WeMove #NeverDoubtTheOrange #McLaren4L tagged; larke_hamilton, mclaren, f1

view all comments...

lauraaaaaa: go larke the shark!!

⤷ lyrichamilton: luv u l'waura 😘

⤷ lauraaaaaa: 🙄🙄🙄 - love you more! 💋

f1: 👏👏👏👏

mclaren: you got this larke_hamilton! next week we got the dub! 💪🧡

random_girl1001: your so fine!

⤷ thirstyhoe11: isn't he? looking like his equally fine af daddy

⤷ lyrichamilton: yall this is a wendy's....and we trying to support lil sis. off with that pls 😒

Larke was changing the sport itself. Every race weekend brought more young girls to the barriers, wearing #44 merchandise and carrying signs with messages like "Future Female Champion" and "Larke is my hero." It was the kind of thing that made Pops emotional.

The marketing team couldn't keep up with demand for her gear. Larke wasn't just racing - she was inspiring a revolution.

By the time we reached Miami, she was leading the championship by sixty points and showing no signs of slowing down. Three wins in the first five races, and each victory more dominant than the last.

Larke was somewhere in the middle of the popup store she had for her latest merch, taking pictures and signing autographs and being gracious to every single person who'd waited hours to meet her. She was in her element - confident and charming and completely natural with fans in a way that reminded me so much of Pops during his prime.

"She's a natural at this," Laura observed. She'd flown in for the Miami race weekend and was documenting everything for her summer art project about sports celebrity and fan culture.

"Takes after the old man," I said. "Though I think she might actually be better at it than he was at her age."

"Different generation. She grew up with social media and constant attention. You both did."

True. Pops had had to learn how to handle fame; Larke and I had been born into it. Sometimes I wondered if that made us better at managing it or if it just made us think we were better at it than we actually were.

My phone buzzed with a notification - someone had tagged me in a video of Larke signing a little girl's race suit. The girl couldn't have been more than eight, and she was wearing a full McLaren outfit that was clearly several sizes too big for her. Larke had gotten down on her level to talk to her, and you could see the exact moment the little girl realized she was meeting her hero.

Jesus, that was going to make me emotional.

"You okay?" Laura asked, noticing my expression.

"Just proud of her. Look at this." I showed her the video, which already had thousands of likes and comments.

making dreams come true this is why we love you future world champion and class act

"She's going to change everything, isn't she?" Laura said quietly.

"Yeah, I think she is."

The popup was scheduled to run until an hour before qualifying, but we had to shut it down early because the crowds were getting too big for the security team to handle safely. Not a bad problem to have, but definitely a learning experience for future events.

"Next time we're renting out a stadium," Pops joked when we finally made it back to the garage.

"Next time you're hiring more security," Mama corrected. "I aged ten years watching those crowds."

Larke looked tired but happy, still signing the occasional autograph for VIP guests and team members who'd missed the popup. She had that glow that came from doing something you loved and being appreciated for it.

"How do you feel?" I asked her.

"Like I just ran a marathon, but in the best way. Did you see how many kids were out there?"

"I saw. You're inspiring a whole generation of future drivers."

"That's the goal," she said simply. "If I can make it easier for the girls coming after me, then everything else is worth it."

This was why she was going to be special - not just the talent, but the understanding of what her success meant for other people.

Qualifying was later that afternoon, and Larke put the car on pole by three tenths of a second. The popup had been great, but this was what really mattered - showing up when it counted and proving that all the attention was deserved.

"Pole position in Miami," I said into my headset as she crossed the line. "That's how you shut up the doubters."

"Just getting started," came her reply, confident and focused.

God, I loved working with her.

___________________________________________

The basketball court they'd set up near the Miami paddock was supposed to be a fun promotional event - just Pops and me playing some one-on-one to hype up the Grand Prix weekend. What it turned into was me absolutely roasting my father in front of a crowd of fans and media while pretending I wasn't trying to impress the group of girls who'd somehow gotten VIP access to watch.

"You sure you want to do this, old man?" I called out, dribbling the ball between my legs in what I thought was a pretty slick move. "I've grown like six inches since the last time we played."

"Old man?" Pops laughed, stretching his arms above his head. Even at fifty-eight, he was in ridiculous shape - all lean muscle and quick reflexes, his tattoos catching the Miami sun as he moved. "Son, I was playing basketball before you were even a thought."

The speakers were pumping music to keep the crowd hyped, and when a Notorious B.I.G. track came on, I couldn't help myself. Started moving to the beat, adding some improvised bars that definitely weren't appropriate for the all-ages crowd but got the girls in the corner absolutely losing their minds.

"LYRIC!" one of them screamed, and I shot them a grin that I'd definitely inherited from my father.

"Are we playing basketball or are you putting on a concert?" Pops asked, but he was trying not to laugh.

"Why not both?" I shot back, still bouncing to the beat. "Gotta give the people what they want, right?"

What followed was twenty minutes of the most competitive father-son basketball you've ever seen. Pops might have been approaching sixty, but he still had those quick hands and that court vision that had made him dangerous in charity games for years. I had height and youth on my side, but he had experience and the kind of trash talk that reminded me where I'd learned it from.

"That's a foul!" I called when he got a little too physical defending.

"That's just good defense!" he shot back. "You're just soft!"

The crowd was eating it up, cheering every basket and laughing at our banter. By the end, we were both dripping sweat and breathing hard, but grinning like idiots.

"Water break?" Pops suggested, and we headed to the sideline where they'd set up chairs and towels.

"Not bad for an old guy," I conceded, accepting a bottle of water.

"Not bad for a string bean," he replied.

We sat there for a few minutes, catching our breath and sharing the vegan lunch they'd brought over - some kind of quinoa bowl that actually tasted decent. The crowd had dispersed a bit, giving us a moment of relative privacy.

"I've been thinking about getting some tattoos," I said casually, watching his reaction.

Pops raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What kind of tattoos?"

"I don't know yet. Maybe something racing-related? Or family stuff?" I shrugged. "Just feels like it's time, you know?"

He looked thoughtful, tracing one of his own tattoos absently. "It's a big decision. They're permanent, obviously."

"Obviously."

"What does Laura think?"

"She said as long as I don't get her name tattooed anywhere, she doesn't care what I do."

That got a laugh. "Smart girl. Never get someone's name unless you're married to them."

"Even then?"

"Even then. Your mama's the exception to every rule."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "You're such a sap."

"Says the kid who posts love poems on Instagram."

Touché.

"So you'd be okay with it? Me getting tattoos?"

"Son, you're twenty-one years old. You don't need my permission to get tattoos." He paused. "But if you want my advice, think about what they mean to you. Don't just get something because it looks cool. Get something that tells your story."

"Like yours do?"

"Like mine do."

Looking at him - sweat-soaked and relaxed, surrounded by the controlled chaos of race weekend but taking time to just be my dad - I felt that familiar surge of gratitude for how normal he'd managed to keep our family despite everything.

"Thanks, Pops."

"For what?"

"For being you. For this." I gestured around us. "For teaching me how to trash talk properly."

"That last one was all natural talent," he grinned. "But you're welcome."

______________________________________________

The Miami Grand Prix was one of those races that reminded you why you fell in love with motorsport in the first place. Larke controlled it from start to finish, managing her tires perfectly and making strategic decisions that had the commentary team comparing her to drivers twice her age.

I was in the garage, monitoring telemetry and radio communications, but I kept finding myself just watching her drive. There was something almost artistic about the way she took certain corners, the way she could find grip where other drivers couldn't, the way she seemed to understand exactly what the car needed at any given moment.

"She's in a class of her own today," Jamie said, shaking his head as he watched her lap times.

"Yeah, she is."

With ten laps to go, she had a fifteen-second lead over second place. Barring mechanical failure or an act of God, the race was hers.

"How are we looking, Lyric?" came her voice over the radio.

"You're absolutely flying. Fifteen seconds clear, tires are good, just bring it home."

"Copy. This one's for everyone who waited in line today."

Of course it was. Larke had this way of making everything personal, of connecting her racing to the bigger picture of what she represented. It was part of what made her special as a driver and as a person.

When she crossed the finish line, the garage erupted. I was screaming into my headset, probably loud enough to damage someone's hearing, but I didn't care. This was my little sister, winning races and making history and being absolutely brilliant at it.

"LARKE HAMILTON WINS THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX!" I shouted.

"YES! YES! YES! Thank you everyone, thank you to all the fans, this is incredible!" came her reply, pure joy and adrenaline in her voice.

Later, watching her on the podium with champagne in her hair and the biggest smile I'd ever seen, I felt that familiar surge of pride and protectiveness. She was eighteen years old and already changing the world, one race at a time.

After the ceremonies, when the media obligations were done and the garage was finally quiet, our family gathered for our traditional post-win dinner. Nothing fancy, just good food and wine and the kind of conversation that reminded you what was really important.

"Four wins in five races," Pops said, raising his glass. "At this rate, you'll clinch the championship before summer break."

"Don't jinx it," Larke laughed, but she looked confident in a way that suggested she might actually believe it was possible.

"To Larke," Mama said. "For driving like a champion and inspiring a generation."

"To family," Larke corrected. "For always believing in me, even when I don't believe in myself."

Yeah, we were pretty lucky.

______________________________________________

The Met Gala was one of those surreal experiences that reminded you how weird your life had become. One day you're covered in motor oil in a McLaren garage, the next you're walking up the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in a custom Tom Ford tuxedo while photographers scream your name.

The theme was "Future Histories," which was perfect for our family - Pops in a vintage Virgil Abloh piece that somehow managed to be both classic and futuristic, Mama in something flowing and beautiful that made her look like a goddess, and Larke in a stunning gown that incorporated racing-inspired elements without being gimmicky.

"I can't believe this is my life," Larke whispered as we posed for photos at the bottom of the steps.

"Better get used to it," I whispered back. "You're only getting more famous."

The actual event was a mix of art, fashion, and networking that felt like the most expensive party in the world. I spent most of the evening talking to other young people who'd grown up in various spotlights - actors' kids, musicians' children, athletes' families - and was reminded that privilege came in many forms but always with its own unique set of complications.

Laura looked incredible in a dress she'd designed herself, something architectural and flowing that perfectly captured her aesthetic. She was in her element talking to artists and designers, and watching her hold her own in conversations with people who'd probably never heard of her was incredibly attractive.

"You clean up nice," I told her during a rare quiet moment.

"You're not so bad yourself. Though I preferred you in the garage clothes."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're sexier when you're doing something you're passionate about."

Note to self: wear more McLaren gear around Laura.

The evening ended with our family at the after-party, Larke holding court with a group of young activists and artists who were fascinated by her perspective on sports and social change. She was in her element, talking about representation and inspiration and the responsibility that came with platform.

"She's going to be President someday," Laura observed, watching my sister charm a table full of influential people twice her age.

"Probably. Though I think she prefers racing cars to politics."

"Give her time. She's only eighteen."

True. Who knew what Larke would accomplish once she was done conquering Formula 1.

The Good Morning America studios in Times Square buzzed with the kind of energy that only came with live television. I'd been doing interviews since I was karting as a kid, but this felt different - more formal, more important somehow.

"Five minutes, Lyric," the producer called out, adjusting my mic one final time.

The host today was Janai Norman, who'd taken over the morning show after Robin Roberts finally retired about ten years or so back. She had that perfect morning TV energy - warm but professional, the kind of person who could make anyone feel comfortable on camera.

"So we're talking about the Netflix documentary, your role as Larke's engineer, and growing up Hamilton?" she confirmed, settling into her chair across from me.

"That's the plan. Though knowing me, I'll probably go off on some random tangent about why pineapple belongs on pizza or something."

She laughed. "Please don't. We only have ten minutes."

Fair point.

"So tell us about Life in the Fast Lane," Janai said. "What can viewers expect?"

"It's really about the next generation in Formula 1," I explained. "Kids who grew up in this world, whether their parents were drivers or team principals or engineers. The pressure, the privilege, the way it shapes your perspective on life and career choices."

"Your sister's having an incredible season. As her engineer, what's it like watching her make history?"

"It's surreal," I said honestly. "Like, I remember when she was this tiny kid following me around the garage, asking a million questions about everything. Now she's out there breaking records and inspiring a whole generation of young girls. As her brother, I'm proud as hell. As her engineer, I'm just trying to give her the best car possible so she can keep doing what she does."

"And what she does is pretty spectacular."

"Yeah, it really is."

After the interview, Laura and I met up outside the studio. She looked gorgeous in that effortless way she had - jeans, a blazer, and boots that somehow made her look like she belonged in New York more than anyone else.

"How'd it go?" she asked, falling into step beside me as we headed toward the street.

"Good, I think. Didn't say anything stupid or controversial."

"That's always the goal."

We'd made it maybe half a block when I noticed the crowd forming behind us. Phones were out, people were calling my name, and that familiar surge of adrenaline that came with unexpected attention kicked in.

"LYRIC! Can we get a picture?"

"Oh my god, you're so much taller in person!"

"Is that your girlfriend? She's gorgeous!"

"Laura, right? We love you!"

Here we go.

I grabbed Laura's hand and picked up the pace, smiling and waving but not stopping. This was the balance I'd learned over the years - be gracious but keep moving, acknowledge the fans but don't get trapped.

"Sorry," I called back to the growing crowd. "Late for dinner!"

Which was actually true. We were meeting friends at Carbone in an hour, and knowing that place, being late meant losing your table.

"Is it always like this now?" Laura asked as we finally escaped into a cab.

"Sometimes worse," I admitted. "But also sometimes I can go weeks without anyone recognizing me. It's weird how random it is."

"I don't know how you handle it."

"Practice. And good running shoes."

Carbone was exactly as chaotic and perfect as always. The kind of place where you had to know someone who knew someone to get a table, but the food was worth the hassle. Our group was already there when we arrived - my best friend Marcus, Sophie who worked in fashion, James from my brief stint at NYU, and Elena who was some kind of tech genius and always had the best stories.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Marcus grinned as we slid into the booth. "How was morning television?"

"Exhausting. They make you get up at like five AM for a ten-minute segment."

"The sacrifices you make for fame," Sophie teased. "So tragic."

"I know, right? My life is so hard."

Laura had met this group a couple times when she'd visited New York, but she still seemed a little quiet. I could tell she was trying to figure out the dynamic, which made sense - they were my friends from before her, from the brief period when I'd tried to be a normal college student.

"Laura, tell us about Stockholm," Elena said, clearly sensing the same thing I had. "Are you surviving Swedish winter?"

"Barely," Laura laughed, and I could see her relax a little. "Though my apartment has incredible heating, so I'm mostly just complaining for dramatic effect."

"Very Scandinavian of you," James said. "I spent a semester in Copenhagen and I'm pretty sure I didn't see the sun for three months."

"That's because you never left the library," Marcus pointed out.

"Fair point."

The conversation flowed easily after that - work, travel, relationships, the kind of normal twenty-something stuff that felt precious because of how rare it was in my usual world. Laura fit in perfectly once she relaxed, charming everyone with stories about her art installation and the weird Swedish cultural quirks she was still getting used to.

"So Lyric," Sophie said as we were finishing our pasta, "are you going to tell us about this documentary or do we have to wait for Netflix like peasants?"

"It's actually really cool," I said, trying not to sound like I was doing PR. "They followed a bunch of us around - kids of drivers, team principals, engineers, all sorts of F1 family members. The whole thing about what it's like growing up in this world."

"And you're the star, obviously," Elena grinned.

"Obviously. Though Larke steals every scene she's in, so really I'm just the comic relief."

"That tracks," Marcus said. "Remember freshman year when you tried to explain tire compounds to that girl at the party?"

"Hey, she asked!"

"She asked what you did for fun, not for a physics lecture."

Rude but accurate.

"In my defense," I said, "tire compounds are fascinating when you really think about it."

"This is why I love you," Laura said, kissing my cheek. "Your complete inability to be normal."

"I can be normal!"

"Name one normal thing about your life."

I considered this seriously. "I... put my pants on one leg at a time?"

"Your pants are custom-made by a designer who charges more per garment than most people make in a month."

Damn, she had me there.

"Fine, I'm abnormal. But I'm abnormally charming, so it works out."

As the night wound down and we were getting ready to leave, Marcus pulled me aside.

"She's good for you, man. Laura. Like, really good."

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you though? Because you get this look when you talk about her. Like... settled. In a good way."

Settled. I'd never thought about it like that, but Marcus wasn't wrong. Being with Laura felt like finding something I hadn't realized I was looking for.

"Thanks, man. That means a lot."

"Just don't fuck it up by being an idiot."

"I'll do my best."

lyrichamilton posted on his stories 5 hours ago!

Austin was hands down my favorite race weekend of the year, and not just because the racing was always incredible. There was something about Texas that spoke to my soul - maybe because I'd grown up between California, Colorado, and Monaco, but had always been drawn to that whole cowboy aesthetic.

"Finally," I said, pulling my white Stetson out of my suitcase. "Been waiting all season to break this bad boy out."

"You're such a stereotype," Larke laughed from her bed, where she was scrolling through race data on her tablet. "California boy playing dress-up."

"Hey, I spent half my childhood in Colorado. That counts for something."

"Colorado isn't Texas."

"Cowboys are cowboys, sis."

We were driving to the circuit listening to Beyoncé's Cowboy Carter album - a vintage classic from like twenty years ago but still perfect for Austin vibes. When "Texas Hold 'Em" came on, both of us started singing along at full volume.

"This ain't Texas, ain't no hold 'em, so lay your cards down, down, down," we belted out, completely off-key but not caring at all.

"You know that song is literally about how this isn't Texas, right?" Larke pointed out between verses.

"Details," I waved her off. "It's got cowboy energy, that's all that matters."

The paddock was buzzing with pre-race energy, and I could already see the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders setting up for their traditional pre-race performance. That was another Austin tradition I never got tired of - something about the intersection of American sports culture and Formula 1 that just worked.

"You're not seriously going to do the bull riding thing again, are you?" Larke asked as we parked.

"Of course I am! It's tradition!"

"You nearly got thrown off last year."

"Nearly being the operative word. I stayed on."

"For like three seconds."

"Three seconds longer than most people manage on their first try."

True story. The mechanical bull they set up at Austin was no joke, but I'd been practicing. Well, sort of. I'd watched a lot of YouTube videos, which basically made me an expert.

The bull-riding station was set up near the main fan zone, complete with a proper Western-style arena and announcers who took the whole thing way too seriously. I'd signed up earlier in the week, partly because it was fun and partly because the fans loved it when the teams did the local culture stuff.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed over the speakers, "we've got Lyric Hamilton from the McLaren team ready to take on Tornado Tom!"

Tornado Tom. They'd named the mechanical bull. Of course they had.

I adjusted my Stetson, made sure my boots were secure, and climbed onto the bull. The crowd was cheering, phones were out recording everything, and I could see Larke shaking her head in the background while trying not to laugh.

"Eight seconds is the goal!" the operator called out. "You ready?"

"Born ready!"

Famous last words.

The first few seconds were actually manageable - a gentle rocking motion that made me think maybe I'd gotten better at this. Then Tornado Tom decided to remind me who was boss.

What followed was the most undignified thirty seconds of my life. The bull bucked, spun, and generally tried to launch me into orbit while I held on for dear life. The crowd was going absolutely wild, and I could hear my name being chanted from multiple directions.

I lasted exactly six seconds before Tornado Tom finally won and sent me flying onto the padded mats. But I landed on my feet, arms up like I'd just stuck a gymnastics routine, which got an even bigger cheer from the crowd.

"Six seconds!" the announcer proclaimed. "Not bad for a racing engineer!"

"I demand a rematch!" I called out, earning laughs from everyone watching.

"Maybe next year, cowboy!"

As I walked back toward the McLaren hospitality area, tipping my hat to fans along the way, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline that came from doing something ridiculous in front of a crowd. This was what I loved about Austin - the permission to lean into the showmanship, to be a little extra.

_______________________________________________

The race had been a disaster for Larke - a DNF on lap forty-three when her engine let go in spectacular fashion. Mechanical failures were part of racing, but they always stung, especially when you were leading the championship and every point mattered.

I found her in her driver's room afterward, still in her race suit, staring at her phone with that blank expression she got when she was trying not to show how upset she was.

"Engine failure sucks," I said, settling into the chair across from her. "But that's racing. We'll bounce back next week."

"Yeah," she said quietly, not looking up from her phone.

"Want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to go through what happened, figure out if there were any warning signs we missed."

"It's not about the race, Ly."

Oh. That explained why she seemed more upset than a DNF usually warranted. Larke was competitive as hell, but she was also practical about the realities of motorsport. This was something else.

"Want to talk about whatever it actually is?"

She was quiet for a long moment, scrolling through what looked like news articles on her phone. Then: "Do you ever feel like you're living someone else's life?"

That was not what I'd been expecting.

"Sometimes," I said carefully. "What do you mean?"

"Like... everyone expects me to be this confident, fearless racing driver who never doubts herself. And most of the time, I am that person. But sometimes I just want to be eighteen and not have the weight of representing all women in motorsport on my shoulders."

Ah. There it was.

The pressure that we all carried but rarely talked about - the expectation to be perfect, to never show weakness, to always be on.

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is." She finally looked up from her phone. "And then I feel guilty for complaining because I have this incredible life and opportunities that most people can only dream of."

"You're allowed to feel overwhelmed, Larke. You're eighteen years old carrying pressure that would break most adults."

"I know that logically. But..." She trailed off, then suddenly laughed. "God, I sound like such a privileged brat."

"You sound like someone who's human. Which, despite what the internet thinks, you still are."

That got a small smile. "Barely, some days. And....Abel and I are... struggling."

"The long distance?" I asked.

"Everything. The distance, his training schedule, my race calendar. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, it's like we're strangers." My voice cracked slightly on the last word.

"That sucks. Have you talked to him about it?"

"How can I? He's dealing with his injury and getting back to match fitness. The last thing he needs is me complaining about our relationship."

"Larke..." I said, gently. "Relationships are supposed to be a safe space to talk about this stuff. If you can't be honest with Abel about how you're feeling, then what's the point?"

She let out an exhale. "What if talking about it makes it worse? What if he realizes that dating someone who travels nine months out of the year isn't worth it?"

"Then at least you'll know. But hiding how you feel isn't going to fix anything."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while, the chaos of the paddock muffled by the walls of her driver's room. Outside, I could hear the post-race interviews happening, the usual analysis and speculation that followed every Grand Prix.

"You know what we need?" I said suddenly.

"What?"

"A Disney movie marathon. When's the last time we just sat around and watched Frozen seventeen times in a row?"

She laughed, the first genuine laugh I'd heard from her all day. "We're not children anymore, Ly."

"Speak for yourself. I maintain that Frozen is a cinematic masterpiece with universal appeal."

"You cried during 'Let It Go' last time we watched it."

"It's an emotional song! Elsa's embracing her true self despite societal pressure to conform! It's basically a metaphor for your entire career!"

"Oh my God, you're right," she said, laughing harder now. "I'm Elsa and motorsport is my ice powers."

"Exactly. And I'm obviously Anna because I'm loyal and charming and have excellent hair."

"You're Anna because you're goofy and talk too much."

"Hey!"

"But also loyal and charming," she added. "Fine. Disney marathon tonight?"

"Disney marathon tonight. But we're watching it at the hotel because if the McLaren social media team finds out we're having feelings, they'll want to film it for content."

"Deal. But I get to pick the movies."

"As long as one of them is Frozen."

"Obviously."

Later that night, we were sprawled across the oversized hotel room couch with room service snacks and a carefully curated Disney playlist. Larke had changed into sweatpants and one of my old hoodies, looking more like a regular teenager than a Formula 1 driver for the first time all weekend.

"You know," she said during the opening credits of Moana, "this is exactly what I needed."

"Disney movies?"

"This. Just being normal for a few hours. Not having to think about championship points or media obligations or what my success means for the future of women in motorsport."

"You can take breaks from being a symbol, you know. You're allowed to just be Larke sometimes."

"I'm working on it," she said. "It's just hard when everyone's watching all the time."

"Well, I'm always watching too," I said. "But not as your engineer or as Lewis Hamilton's son. Just as your annoying big brother who thinks you're pretty cool."

"Just pretty cool?"

"Fine, extremely cool. But don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," she grinned, settling back into the couch cushions.

As the familiar opening notes of "How Far I'll Go" filled the room, I thought about what Laura had said earlier about life in the fast lane. Yeah, we lived at a different speed than most people, with more pressure and scrutiny and opportunity than any twenty-somethings probably deserved.

But moments like this - just me and my sister, eating overpriced hotel room service and singing along to Disney songs - reminded me that underneath all the chaos, we were still just family. Still the Hamilton kids who'd grown up watching animated movies and dreaming about the future.

"Thanks, Ly," Larke said softly as Moana set sail for the first time.

"For what?"

"For reminding me that it's okay to not be perfect all the time."

"Always, sis. That's what annoying big brothers are for."

lyrichamilton posted on his instagram!

liked by larke_hamilton, f1, mclaren, and 2.0M others

lyrichamilton: thank u texas for always showing out n showing love. see y'all next time! 🐴

view all comments......

f1: 🤠 🐎

lewishamilton: rizz

⤷ lyrichamilton: pops.....lmfao 😭

thirstyhoe1234: now that's a cowboy i'll like to ride

enews: Cowboy Lyric!!!

roriehamilton: 🥺🥺

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⤷ lyrichamilton: ababyblu and don't. thanks for looking out 🙏🏽

#emjayewrites #private landing #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #emjayewrites masterlist #lewis and rorie hamilton #private landing one shot #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton

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a1sft · 2 days ago

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۶ৎ PIRATE DR INTRO

"Who is she?... The Dame Drowned, The Hollow Maiden, The Black Veil, She Who Sings Below... Why so many names? How can so many generations remember the exact same face but with different identities... Wait, no, this is stupid, she looks young. How-"

"She's a siren I swear, my grandfather told me she-"

"No! She's a fortune teller, I saw her in Tortuga, she told me that-"

"But, in these books they say she's a princess-"

"How- In this one they say she's a Captain..."

"My father told me she's a-"

"Wait, no, this doesn't make any sense, who the hell is she?!"

Well, If you ask someone in a tavern, they'll tell you she's a mermaid, a siren, a witch, a fortune teller, a princess, a captain, blah blah blah... Why would you believe them, right? They're probably drunk, as usual... But, what if no one is lying about her identity?

𝒲ho is she?

Name: Alaa Current Alias: Sea Witch Date of Birth: I don't know, it's been ages Also known as: So many nicknames I don't even care about them anymore... Currently a: Pirate

Oh, there's a lot to say, but let's put it shortly, okay? Daugther of Poseidon, Hecate legacy, immortality, curse... Ugh. makes my head hurt already.

Alaa is a daugther of Poseidon, blessed with Hecate's legacy, cursed with immortality by her own father. The God of the seas couldn't care less about her, he has many other unwanted children... But she had Hecate's legacy, he needs her near to fight his wars, forever.

Everyone around her slowly dissapeared, what best than distracting youself, right? Try a hundred years being a fortune teller and a witch, had to use Hecate's gift to earn a living... Another fifty years being a princess, ha! it's fun to control people's mind into thinking you're royalty... Take some hundred years off in an island, never bad for your heath i guess... Now, let's live underwater for another two hundred years, fun, but the fish don't have anything interesting to say... and more and more and more years of distractions, until she found something that felt more like destiny rather than just a simple distraction...

[ taglist: : @cupiid-777 , @dollistive , @iama1ice , @h1biscusgal , @girlberrie, @avelineshifts , @mimi-shifts , @alexshiftz , @soapyfairie , @nothyeri , @essentiallyaine , @lyra-143 , @arabellaswift , @freewinnie , @kazuyas-gallerymwah , @seungminsbigjuicylefttoe ]

(interact here to be added to my taglist)

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unsolicited-opinions · 2 days ago

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Identifying and Coping with Cults

Most people seem to believe cults are about religion, robes, and/or UFOs, but cults aren't about theology or cosmology - they're about mental, social, emotional control. A cult doesn't need a compound, robes, or cosmology - just a belief so total and consuming that it swallows the rest of your identity.

We tend to think that cults draw other people.

Dumb people.

Weak-minded people.

People who aren't as smart or educated or skeptical as we are.

The truth is that cults don't rely on stupidity, they rely on conviction and the need to belong.

Conviction makes people feel important, righteous, elite, and part of something bigger than themselves.

That kind of thinking isn't rare. It's everywhere.

Features of All Cults

The Leader/Doctrine Is Infallible

It doesn't have to be a person. It can be an ideology, a set of principles, or a revolutionary narrative. What matters is that it's never wrong. Any mistake, contradiction, or moral failing is either denied, excused, or reframed as proof of how right the group is.

Outsiders Are Enemies

There are no legitimate opponents, only evil ones. If you're not with us, you're corrupt. The world is divided into us (good, awakened) and them (bad, brainwashed, oppressive). The possibility of good-faith disagreement is off the table.

Doubt = Betrayal

Skepticism isn't healthy, it's treason. Asking questions means you've already failed a loyalty test. You either accept the whole package or you're a danger to the group.

The Cause Justifies Everything

Because the group is always right, its behavior is always justified. Harassment, threats, violence, lying, and dehumanization are all fair game if they serve the mission.

Truth Is Monopolized

They have The Truth. Everyone else is misled or malicious. Any source that contradicts the group is propaganda. Any evidence that complicates the narrative is ignored or dismissed.

Purity Is Mandatory

You don't get to agree with parts and question others. There is no cafeteria plan. You believe it all, or you're compromised.

There Is No Exit Without Punishment

Try leaving. Try expressing doubt. You will be humiliated, discredited, and demonized. The group will claim you were never a real believer anyway.

These Features in Famous Cults

Jonestown (People's Temple - Jim Jones)

A political-religious movement that ended in the mass murder-suicide of over 900 people in Guyana in 1978.

Infallible Leader - Jim Jones was treated as a prophet and god-like figure.

Outsiders = Enemies - The US government and defectors were seen as existential threats.

Doubt = Betrayal - Defectors were labeled traitors, dissent was suppressed.

Cause Justifies Everything - Abuse, mind control, and ultimately mass death were rationalized.

Truth Is Monopolized - Only Jones' interpretation of the world was accepted.

Purity Is Mandatory - Members were forced to adopt strict ideological conformity.

No Exit Without Punishment - Defectors were hunted, threatened, or killed.

Heaven's Gate (Marshall Applewhite & Bonnie Nettles)

A UFO-doomsday cult whose members believed they would ascend to a spaceship by shedding their bodies. Ended in 39 suicides in 1997.

Infallible Leader - Applewhite was seen as the only conduit to salvation.

Outsiders = Enemies - Non-believers were seen as "Luciferians" and corrupt.

Doubt = Betrayal - Questioning the teachings endangered the "exit plan."

Cause Justifies Everything - Suicide was framed as liberation from Earth.

Truth Is Monopolized - All external sources were rejected and only the leaders had access to "The Next Level."

Purity Is Mandatory - Strict celibacy, dress codes, and detachment from the world were enforced.

No Exit Without Punishment - Psychological control and isolation made leaving nearly impossible.

Scientology (L. Ron Hubbard / David Miscavige)

A pseudo-religious organization founded by a science fiction writer, known for aggressive legal tactics, secrecy, and abuse allegations.

Infallible Leader - Hubbard's writings are treated as scripture and Miscavige is treated as his anointed executor.

Outsiders = Enemies - "Suppressive persons" are vilified, critics are targets.

Doubt = Betrayal - Internal questioning is punished with auditing, isolation, or expulsion.

Cause Justifies Everything - Surveillance, harassment, and lawsuits justified to protect the church.

Truth Is Monopolized - Members are discouraged from consuming outside media or criticism.

Purity Is Mandatory - Advancement requires complete adherence to doctrine and lifestyle.

No Exit Without Punishment - Defectors face smear campaigns, disconnection from family, and threats.

NXIVM (Keith Raniere)

A self-help organization that devolved into a coercive sex cult with branding, blackmail, and criminal convictions.

Infallible Leader - Raniere was marketed as a genius and moral authority.

Outsiders = Enemies - Critics were dismissed or targeted with lawsuits.

Doubt = Betrayal - Members were pressured to ignore red flags or risk expulsion.

Cause Justifies Everything - Abuse and manipulation were reframed as empowerment.

Truth Is Monopolized - Raniere's teachings overrode conventional ethics or science.

Purity Is Mandatory - Members were ranked and groomed for obedience.

No Exit Without Punishment - Those who left were harassed, blackmailed, and/or publicly discredited.

The same seven features are always there in every cult.

These, of course, are all in the past.

Here in 2025, we have two popular cults which are doing all of us extraordinary amounts of harm.

MAGA

Infallible Leader

Donald Trump isn't just a politician to his followers, he's a symbol. When he lies, it's not a flaw. It's strategy. When he fails, it's sabotage by the deep state. He is the center of the movement's gravity, and his word overrides observable reality. The courts, the media, even physics, meteorology, and basic math are all wrong if they contradict him.

Outsiders = Enemies

The MAGA worldview is binary. You're either a patriot or a traitor. Democrats, immigrants, journalists, academics, scientists, and election officials are all suspect. Ther are no disagreements, there's only war. Opponents aren't wrong, they're evil.

Doubt = Betrayal

MAGA has no tolerance for internal dissent. Most of the Republicans who acknowledged Biden's win were branded as RINOs and purged. The rest got in line and kissed the ring. Asking for evidence about election fraud is seen as disloyal. Even silence can be suspect.

The Cause Justifies Everything

Storming the Capitol? Justified. Threatening election workers? Patriotic. Spreading conspiracy theories? Necessary. There are no rules if the mission is to save America from the leftist cabal.

Truth Is Monopolized

Only certain sources are trusted and even Fox News has often been smacked down for insufficient loyalty. So the cult faithful turn to right-wing echo chambers, YouTube prophets, and meme accounts. Anything mainstream is automatically suspect, but in a world of liars, only the Dear Leader is always telling you the truth.

Purity Is Mandatory

You can't just support tighter borders or lower taxes. You have to accept the whole package: the stolen election, the culture war, the personality worship, the persecution narrative, the attacks on immigrants, the assault on higher education...Moderation or nuance are weakness.

No Exit Without Punishment

Look at Liz Cheney or Mike Pence. Look at anyone who tried to steer the movement or the GOP back toward reality. They didn't just lose support, they were cast out. Once you're disloyal, you're dead to the group.

And on the other end of the horseshoe:

The Western "Pro-Palestinian" Movement

Infallible Doctrine

This movement isn't about support for Palestinian rights (a legitimate cause we should all support). This is a movement which treats anti-Zionism, the belief that Israel must cease to exist, as sacred law.

No amount of evidence, history, or context can challenge the idea that Israel is uniquely evil, that Palestinians are uniquely innocent, and that the only moral position is total condemnation and elimination of the Jewish state.

Outsiders = Enemies

Anyone who supports Israel's right to exist is an enemy. Jewish students are enemies. Palestinian peace advocates who reject Hamas are enemies. You don't need to hold extreme views to be treated as an enemy, you just have to diverge from the orthodoxy.

Doubt = Betrayal

Say you're uncomfortable with chants like "from the river to the sea" or that you believe in both Israeli and Palestinian national self-determination...or say you oppose Hamas' methods and violent suppression of the people of Gaza...?

That's enough to get you labeled a Zionist apologist, a traitor, a colonizer. There's no space for complexity. No room for nuance.

The Cause Justifies Everything

Celebrating the October 7 massacre? "Context."

Ripping down posters of kidnapped civilians? "Resistance."

Harassing Jewish students? "Solidarity."

The cruelty is framed as necessary, desirable, even virtuous.

Truth Is Monopolized

Official sources are dismissed as biased. Only certain accounts (often anonymous, hyper-partisan, and unchecked) are treated as legitimate.

If a Palestinian criticizes Hamas, they're ignored or attacked as a Zionist (ask Hamza Howidy or Ahmed Fouad Alkahatib).

If a Jew defends Israel's right to exist, they're a propagandist. HASBARA!

Purity Is Mandatory

You can't be selectively critical. You can't say "I support human rights but also think Hamas is a terrorist group." That's impure. You must affirm the full narrative or you're compromised. You must chant the slogans, share the posts, and avoid any hint of nuance. If you don't strictly follow the purity guidelines, anything you say on any topic is deemed false.

No Exit Without Punishment

Try saying you no longer support the movement because of extremism and antisemitism. You'll be attacked, disowned, doxxed, called a Zio or other slurs. There's no graceful exit.

Once you're out, you're not just wrong. You're the enemy.

Coping

So what do we do when people we care about fall into cults draped in flags and slogans?

First, understand that logic won't pry them out. Cults aren't built on facts, they're built on identity, emotion, and a deep need to belong.

If it's someone close to you, your best move is to stay connected without indulging the dogma. Ask questions, not to debate, but to remind them there's a world beyond the script. Don't play their game of moral purity, just show them what it looks like to think freely and still care deeply.

With strangers, it's different.

You owe them less, and it's okay to disengage when the cost is too high. Not every argument is winnable, and not every person wants to come back.

But when you do engage, go for clarity, not conversion. Speak plainly, factually, and with spine. Cults thrive in echo chambers. Every time you speak outside the script, you widen the crack that might let someone else out.

Not today, maybe. But eventually. That's the long game.

That's how you fight a cult without joining one.

(This post inspired by tags of @tapdancingmutantboy - thanks!)

Further Information:

Two-hour playlist of excellent videos on cults

Singer, M. T., & Lalich, J. (1995). Cults in our midst: The hidden menace in our everyday lives. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

Hassan, S. (2015). Combating cult mind control: The #1 bestselling guide to protection, rescue, and recovery from destructive cults. Freedom of Mind Press.

#jumblr #MAGA #“Pro-Palestinian” Movement #Cults #Jonestown #Heaven's Gate #Scientology #NXIVM #US politics #psychology #sociology #current events #mind control #undue influence #Politics #Right wing cults #Left wing cults #Right wing #left wing

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hadesoftheladies · 2 days ago

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i've become more anti-romance these past two years, not because i hate love but because romance is such an infantalized, patriarchal way to look at love.

the entire culture of romance disgusts me, i think, primarily because of how it isolates women from their communities in real time, even alienates them from their sense of self. like, romance insists that there is such a thing as THE ONE and this one must be a sexual/life partner. like, already the premise forces a toxic environment where a couple has unrealistic expectations of each other, where they're both pedestalized, and i've seen so many relationships frustrated by this stupid, childish idealism when it comes to romantic relationships.

but it's always worse when a woman is romancepilled. when a man is romancepilled, chances are his misogyny decreases by like maybe 10% or something. but when it's a woman OH MY FUCKING GOD. it's like she gets a lobotomy. it doesn't matter how self-assured she used to be. what her temperament was. you just start watching these women humiliate and baby themselves in front of these men. like they adopt learned helplessness. and he becomes so CENTRAL to their lives that like, if you don't have a boyfriend/husband genuinely good luck hanging out with her. she'll bring him everywhere. she'll talk about him when he's not there. she'll be talking TO him when you're supposed to be hanging out. and you'll find that the only other women she maintains friendships with are the partners of her partner's friend group.

you're just not a priority. like at all. except for when she has low self-esteem or breaks up with him.

and my question is: why? why should people who've known you longer, who've been loving you longer, for DECADES, take a backseat to someone you've dated for like three? maybe two years? why is one kind of love exalted above all others? you point this out and they start calling you jealous. your life and love, because you are single, is just so small apparently. "i hope you find love one day" "i hope you discover what it's like for someone to love you so unconditionally" genuine question, but is this man your legit first time experiencing love let alone unconditional love??? because i cannot fucking relate. i cannot relate to only having deep, intimate connections with one person. i cannot relate to having my love and life be concentrated in one relationship. it's criminal how this new guy just usurps her life. just fills up every crevice and pushes everyone out.

it also makes het-couples such insufferable fucking martyrs, if not the smuggest most self-centred drags. all of a sudden it's "us against the world" and "no one gets me like you do" and everyone who doesn't like your PDA is just jealous? oh word? because i've watched you lie to each other's faces about shit you wouldn't lie about with me. your friends and family do "get you" they're just not obligated to pay you the kind of attention a romantic relationship traditionally demands (no matter how unsustainable and unrealistic). and look, i get that the more time you spend together, the closer you'll be. if you're living with your partner, chances are you're close. like duh. but i cannot fathom, genuinely, i cannot fathom how ONE person in your ENTIRE LIFE takes center stage.

that's what i fundamentally disagree with. why is there a CENTRAL PERSON? why does that make sense to anyone? genuinely how can you have a central person????? why can't you have a variety of deep relationships? why are you only willing to pour so much effort into ONE relationship? it just sounds more and more insane to me. like maybe i'm just crazy, and i thought that all my mutual relationships deserved my time, effort, intention and focus and that just because i lived with some and not others, or had sex with some and not others, they were all just "people in my life that i love." it's probably why i can imagine not living with someone i date for life. like if i was to forsake the febfem thing and date a man, i would neither marry nor live with him and that would make 100% sense to me, because like, he's one among many of my loves. why do we have to share a bed? i haven't shared a bed since i was 12. why do we have to do EVERYTHING together? i hate the fucking codependency.

you say shit like that and people look at you crazy. "but he's your PARTNER" "you must not be in love with him." i am in love with all sorts of people in my life every day. but i don't cling to any one of them as my end-all-be-all. i may not love them all equally, but i don't have a ONE. that's the thing. i just don't have a ONE because it doesn't make sense to me. each relationship has its own individual flavour, and all are worthy to me. the kind of relationship it is does not actually determine how much love and intimacy is there.

but even on a socioeconomic scale, romance is just patriarchal nonsense. it's all about starting your own family unit. leaving your families to become your own. in most cases, it's a woman leaving HER community and HER job and HER friends and HER family to integrate into the man's life. which is why men don't switch up so fucking horrendously when they get into relationships. they legit do not change 99.9% of the time.

i'm just so tired of adults treating life like a disney movie and getting mad when i don't. like no i do not believe in "the one." no i do not believe in "happily ever after." the entire thing just screams co-dependence and infantalism. with how some of these couples talk, i'm convinced they use each other as an easier way to gain social status and get new parents. the mommification of girlfriends and daddification of boyfriends sickens me. to my fucking core. like you're just here to make each other regress so that you trap each other there. people who weren't insecure wouldn't act like this. like they'd have that bigness to them. they're often more open with their love and time, and they have a rich community that they built themselves around them. they're intentional with all their relationships and they don't treat their partners as shields from society's stigmas. which is why their relationships aren't plagued by mistrust and controlling behaviour. (interestingly, i usually see this in people who married old like when their hair was starting to grey and a few lesbian couples)

but for romancepilled couples it's so miserable and small and pathetic and i'm so tired of watching it happen and holding my tongue. like heal and grow up.

#rant #anti romance #radblr #separatism #mine #feminism #i'm just tired of women infatnalizing themselves #no matter the method

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cybermvtt · 3 days ago

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SOREYY I KNOW PEOPLE DIDN'T FOLLOW ME FOR TADC CONTENT BUT 8GEH IT'S MY GUILTY PLEASURE AND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT JAX THAT FUCKED UP STUPID IDIOT

So now let me give u my overanaylizations and infodumping (most of it is Jax 💔 srry I'm Jax pilled)

- I'm so deadass when I say I didn't realize when Jax was talking about his "backstory" it was a Breaking Bad reference. I lowk thought his backstory was gonna be like a Charlotte situation from ONE maybe and then I realized it was a Breaking Bad reference, which makes it funnier

- It's interesting that Caine can in some way alter how the characters think (with how he made Jax vegan) makes u kinda think what's real and what's not or what the characters truly believe and what they don't

- I KNEW IT I KNEW THE REASON HE WAS SUCH AN ASS WAS SO HE DIDN'T GET CLOSE TO PEOPLE I KNEW IT BIG BRAIN BIG

- Also kind of random but trans Jax real

- ^ to go with that (I saw someone else say it and I very much agree) ofc canonically I feel like the main reason Jax didn't like the maid dress is like obvious, it would make him embarrassed esp when he doesn't rlly like to be embarrassed but to embarrass others. But with him being so viscerally upset about it, I like to project and say that it's bc he's transmasc and prob more dysphoric about it as well

- ^^ to also go with that I don't think anyone in the circus rlly knows he's trans since he's so closed off (I think even though Jax has been an ass to Gangle, she wouldn't do something like that, esp since she's close with Zooble who's expressed they're dysphoria before) maybe like Ribbit would've been the only one (probs Kaufmo too?? Think it's been hinted that was possibly another person Jax was close to before he abstracted, due to him being upset when Ragatha mentioned his funeral, and Jax not being present for said funeral) but no one for sure knows besides Jax himself (though I imagine he gives off hints)

- I think Ragatha mentioning how Jax has no more friends and us seeing later that friend was Ribbit also opens up more to maybe why he's upset. 1) Ofc the obvious, he lost a close friend and 2) maybe it got so bad for him mentally that he almost abstracted himself? So it just doesn't bring up good memories in general? We've seen multiple times how characters can almost abstract (Pomni and Gangle) and I wouldn't put it past Jax to have possibly been in so much mental distress that it almost happened to him, idk just a fun theory to play around with

- ^ maybe that could be a reason why he didn't attend Kaufmos funeral, Ribbits made him too upset (possibly causing some sort of breakdown or close abstraction as said)

- Gangle and Zooble lesbians real

- I feel like Jax maybe was like some sort of actor in his life, or like a comedian idk, something like that with how he breaks the 4th wall and is really good with improv when it comes to talking

- Pomni and Ragatha lesbians real (but make it tragic)

- Also I unironically love Bubble sm underrated character. I think this episode shows a clear shift in something going wrong with the ai, since Bubble is way more unhinged (even Caine notices) Caine is also kinda going insane (also with certain things like how Jax said he had a tail but then looks and has no tail)

- I find it funny Jax probably watches anime but just hates slice of life specifically

- Feel like the evil versions of them in some way could kind of project what they don't want to become/insecurities of who they are (Jax being more whimpy, Pomni being more cruel, etc.)

- Ik it's probably a joke but I feel the vegan thing could mean something (esp with Jax suggesting the first adventure and mentioning something about his mom which could be a throw away line but we never know)

- ^ maybe he used to hunt with his mom? Lived in the Savannah? Something like that

- Ragatha being a doll now makes a lot more sense and definetly confirms that everyone's design means SOMETHING

- ^ Ragatha being a doll could be like a representation of being thrown around and abused by her mother, Zooble being Zooble could represent dysphoria they had in they're past life, Jax could maybe be some thing to do with running away from his problems constantly, Gangle shows her fragile nature and also a representation of putting on a mask for depression, Kingers I feel has to do with his closeness with his wife being like a king and a queen together, and Pomnis is a little difficult but maybe something to do with like performance in some way idk

- I think Jax could've also grown up on a farm maybe since he had a reaction when hearing about it from Ragatha (That could maybe explain some sort of fear for corn idk)

- Them not knowing about Queenie is crazy, I'm wondering if she abstracted immediately after she got into the circus

- Very interesting seeing the beef Jax and Ragatha have, I knew it ran deeper then just "they hate each other" but I find it interesting how deep there beef could be

- I don't personally think it's super strange for Jax and Pomni to get close, Pomni out of all the cast makes sense due to her attitude, she tries to understand Jax rather than do what the others do (ignore him, be mean back, etc)

- I feel like a lot of Jax and how he is towards Gangle in specific could be him just trying to project, like a bully to the bullied. I imagine he has his own slew of mental problems which is why when he sees Gangle being happy after being depressed for so long he questions if she (or him for that matter of fact) can truly be happy aswell

- I think Ragatha is kinda pissed about Jax and Pomnis friendship for a couple reasons 1) Ragatha has been there longer than Pomni, she's probably been trying to get close to Jax for awhile but he doesn't budge, to her it can be frustrating seeing the new person, who hasn't been there for long, suddenly form and get more close to Jax so easily rather than her where it's probably taken longer and been harder to. 2) I think that's also something to do with how she's tried her hardest to make Pomni feel welcomed and tried really hard being Pomnis close friend. 3) the obvious, she's a people pleaser, she clearly wants everyone to view her as good and nice, she cares more about others than herself. And 4) being kinda left alone on her own at the end of the episode (also secret answer 5. Probably something to do with her and Jax realationship, I feel like they've had some sort of falling out or big arguement before the events of the show)

- I think the reason Jax sees Ragathas attempts at connection and kindness as trying to take advantage of people could be his own experiences regarding someone else in his past life or Ragatha herself, another reason is due to how he doesn't open up, he sees it as being taken advantage of when people wanna know him

- ^ to go with that Ribbits abstraction probably didn't help that, probably making him think that even if he DOES get close to someone they eventually leave in some way

- Also WHY R WE NOT TALKING ABOUT THE MANNEQUIN?? He's up to something and idk what it is, could be another example of the ai going rougue

- Kingers favorite color is black I think

- ^ Pomnis is possibly red??

- Rlly cool how much range and emotion Jax shows in the episode, idk what happened at Spudsys but if it made the man start to break down his walls than I can only imagine

That's all I rlly have rn, huge info dump mainly hcs and theories plus Jax post ofc, but I hope u enjoyed my info dumping. If I have more I'll let u gamers know okay bye bye

#tadc episode 5 #tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #tadc zooble #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc kinger #tadc caine #tadc bubble #tadc gangle #tadc headcanons #tadc theories #i love u jax amazing didgital cusfueejjr #jax the ever #K9 yaps

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florida3exclamationpoints · 3 days ago

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(Thanks to you, I can't love right.) I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste. It's funny and it's ironic that only I feel that way. (I know everyone sees that he'll be the death of me.) Please, please, please, don't prove I'm right. You're so dumb and poetic, it's just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic. (You drive me crazy, but that's not gonna stop me.) All these douchebags in my phone, if they're winning I'm just losing. (Logically the last thing I should have on my mind, but I want you there sometimes.) If I can't have the one I love, I guess it's you that I'll be kissin, just to get my fixins. Jesus, what's a girl to do? (You can’t blame a girl for trying.) This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are, yet he's naked in my room. I've never seen an ugly truth that I can't bend to something that looks better. (I should've known all along, I was only the next one to take your love songs as a promise.) I'm stupid but I'm clever. You don't have to lie to girls, if they like you they'll just lie to themselves, don't I know it better than anyone else? All your best excuses, no, they don't stand a chance against all the chances I give you. (I feel myself falling further down your priorities, and I still make excuses for you constantly.) You don't even have to try, turn you into a good guy, you don't have to lift a finger. Lucky for you, I'm just like my mother. (Don't think I'll find forgiveness as fast as Mom did.) We love to hear the cold hard facts and swear they're incorrect. I've heard all the bad news and the bad reviews, couple bad gut feelings, well, I've had them too, but still I choose to be in love with you. (You like a certain type of woman, who's smart but neglets intuition.) If I close an eye, it's almost like your red flags are blue. I'm intentionally careless, at least I got self awareness. I like my boys playing hard to get, and I like my men all incompetent. I swear they choose me, I'm not choosing them. Amen... Hey men!

#im not going to explain the web weave #if you get it you get it #if you dont you dont #but you should #sabrina carpenter #man's best friend #short n sweet #manchild #emails i can't send

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lush-escape · 13 hours ago

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This is Me Trying

Part 7

pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

a/n: this one was soooo much fun to write. Loved crashing out vicariously through reader. I wanted this chapter to be serious and funny and I don't think it would've happened without my sister to bounce ideas off of so everyone say thank you RIGHT NOW @clawdee 😤 okay anyway enjoy 🥰

prev: part 6

You wake up groggy and disoriented. You can feel the humidity in the air. Your head is pounding and your mouth is dry. Slowly you open one eye and then the other a groan. The room is dimly lit and sparsely decorated. There's a folding table in front of you with grime and dirt covering it, a beaten down couch holding two guys wearing masks is to your right, a few metal folding chairs to your left.

The walls have paint that's chipping, water damage to the ceiling and parts of the wall. The carpet was a dirty brown color covered in stains. The only window in the room has bars on it but you can tell it's dark outside and you wonder how long you had been unconscious.

“Mm…” you groan softly. It's then you realize you're tied to a chair. Wooden and hard. Arms tied with rope behind your back with your ankles tied to the legs of the chair.

Fuck.

“Ah, finally awake.” A strange voice comes from behind you. It's rough and gravely, you assume from years of smoking.

“Where’m I?” You mumble with slurred speech.

“That's not important right now.”

“Am I in a fuckin' drug den?” The heavy footsteps behind you stop for a second before you feel a harsh smack on the back of your head.

“Ow!” You gasp.

“No!” The man is very obviously offended as he moves to stand in front of you, hands on his hips. “This isn't a fucking crack house, bitch.” the two goons on the couch snicker to themselves before quickly shutting up once being given a sharp glare.

“Rude…” you mutter under your breath on instinct.

Big Bad #1 pulls up a chair in front of you. His face is also covered by a mask but you can see his eyes are brown and he has a blonde goatee.

“Now. Tell us what you know about Red Hood.” He states simply as he ‘intimidatingly’ pulls a knife from his boot. Your heart rate spikes.

“Who?” You ask. He doesn't look amused.

“Red Hood. The wannabe hero? He's been busting our dealers for weeks.”

“So this is a drug den.”

“No. It's not.” Big Bad’s voice is tense, it's obvious how angry he is. “Say it again and I'll cut out that tongue of yours.”

Your lips purse.

“We've been tailing you for weeks. Tracked your phone, hacked it. We know you've been hanging out with him.”

It takes you a second but slowly you start to remember through the drug induced fog. The car that slowly rolled through the neighborhood at the party. The one that circled the flower shop. The stranger who you bumped into at the race where you’d dropped your phone. Your stomach sinks.

How long have these guys been following you without you realizing?

“I still don't know who Red Hood is.” You snap back at him. You figure if they're going to kill you anyway, why make it easy for them?

“Red Hood. Jason. Your little boy toy.” Big Bad snarls.

Jason, Red Hood? The man who begged you with tears in his eyes to read to him while he ate you out before fucking you stupid? Yeah, okay.

You snort. Loudly.

“Jason is not Red Hood. Are you an idiot or just fucking stupid?”

Big Bad didn't think that was funny. He slashes your thigh with his knife, right above your knee. You gasp loudly, crying out in pain.

“Motherfucker!” The tears immediately sting your eyes. “What was that for?!”

He looks almost confused, “For being a cunt.” He states like it's obvious.

You should be scared, you are scared. Terrified. The fear in your stomach is making your intestines cramp, you're sweating. But you're also angry. You did nothing to deserve this and this man has the audacity to come at you with a knife while you're tied up? To threaten you and use you as a pawn to get back at someone you don't even know? No way. Not a chance in hell.

“Oh get fucked.” You mutter before the back of his hand comes in contact with your cheek. It stings like a son of a bitch, it splits your lip. You can taste the warm iron in your mouth. The white hot anger bubbling up in your veins makes you almost black out. You spit the blood from your mouth in Big Bad’s face.

He stands and you watch with a wicked smirk. He wipes the blood from his face and you can see that he's holding back on hurting you.

“Someone get this fucker, now.” He barks. Goons #2 and #3 rush over with dumbfounded expressions.

“Didn't think it'd be this hard…” Big Bad #2 mutters.

“You got a death wish or somethin'?” #3 asks you with a glare.

“Yeah, somethin' like that.” You smirk again.

All the while you're silently thanking whoever is above for your sweaty palms. Each heart rate spikes, each bead of sweat, is making it easier to slowly slip your hands out of the rope tying you to the chair.

“You're fuckin' crazy, you know that?” #2 points a knife at you. They're panicking now. ‘Good’, you think.

“..not crazy.” You mumble, your lip is swelling making it harder to get your words out clearly. “‘m defenseless an’ tied to a chair.” Your hands are free now. ‘It's now or never’.

“No, no. You're fuckin' crazy and this was a bad fuckin' idea.” #3 has his hands on his head, he's pacing. “Red’s gonna fuckin' kill us.”

“Defenseless my ass.” #2 spits as he gets in your face again.

Gathering all of the courage you could muster up your bring your hands forward and cup both of his ears. #2 reels back, dropping his knife in the process. He howls in pain.

“Ha! It worked!” You smile widely before wincing in pain. Right, split lip. Your excitement is short lived as Big Bad and Goon #3 are on their heels turning to look at you. Your face drops.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit, you psycho!” Big Bad barks, grabbing for his knife.

You scramble forward for the dropped knife, ungraceful as a newborn calf, ankles still tied to your chair. You put your hands out to break your fall yet still manage to bump your head. That'll be worried about later.

“Oh, that's pathetic…” Big Bad and #3 laugh at you mockingly. You see boots in front of your face and with a small groan you lift your hand, plunging the knife right into his foot.

“Fuck!” #3 yells. He tries to move away but his foot is stuck to the floor, falling backwards as he tries to work the knife out of his foot. The squelching noise almost makes you nauseous.

“That's fucking it.” Big Bad grabs the back of your neck to lift your head. Your hands reach out for him, scratching at his jacket to no avail.

“No, no, no -” you beg. Big Bad kicks your chair to the side and a leg snaps off. One leg free.

“Oh, yes. You're dying now. I'm not putting up with your shit anymore.

Your hands scramble, a flurry of slaps and scratches, it's a chaotic scene. Your eyes stay on Big Bad as he moves his hand to the front of your throat, choking you. Your gasp and choke, your vision blurs. In one last manic attempt to get away you scratch at his face, catching his eye. He lets go of you and stumbles back, hurling swears and insults at you. You can see a trickle of blood seep under his hand from his eye as your vision comes back.

You hurry to untie your left leg and sigh in relief now that you're free. Goon #2 is slowly recovering from his ears being boxed and staggers to his feet. It takes you a second to catch your bearings but you stand up. #3 finally has his foot free, crying on the floor in pain.

Two goons against one feral hostage.

Right as the two are about to lunge for you everyone is caught off guard by the sound of the front door splintering to reveal a large and absolutely terrifying figure.

Red Hood.

“Oh shit-” you whisper.

He's tense, angry.

“You fuckers.” He looks to Goons #2 and #3 who visibly swallow. Red Hood steps further into the house, stepping on splinters of wood, a gun in each hand. And then he stops and takes in the scene.

You with a busted lip and gash on your thigh and two bleeding idiots, one half deaf.

“What happened?” Red Hood’s deep modulated voice rings out.

“This psycho attacked us!” Goon #2 answers almost fearfully.

But your attention is on Red Hood. It's his fault that you're even here in the first place.

“You.” You practically growl.

“Me?” He gestures to himself.

“Oh fuck man, you're in for it now.” #3 shakes his head.

“Shut up, idiot.” Big Bad warns through bared teeth. The three huddle together to watch the stand off between you and Red Hood.

You pick up the broken piece of chair leg, your anger is palpable.

“It's your fault these assholes took me!”

“Wha- my fault?!”

You take a swing at Red Hood who easily dodges it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down! It is not my fault!” He doesn't sound angry though which throws you for a second. He sounds… apologetic.

“It is! They took me to get back at you!” You swing again and be dodges. He's not even trying to stop you which pissed you off even more.

“Hey! Knock it off, would you?”

This time the leg connects to his thigh and he hisses in pain.

“Ow!” He shouts, holding his leg, rubbing at it.

“That's what you get! I don't even know you and I'm being kidnapped because of you? Hell no.”

“Jesus Christ, calm down!” He's irritated but is still trying to back away from you. “Can you at least let me do my damn job before jumping me?” He gestures to the three idiots who kidnapped you.

“No! You're all fucking getting it!” You swing again - this time hitting his arm.

“Motherf- stop it!”

A second later another figure is in the doorway. Shorter, snickering, and-

“Damian?” You question in a breathless whisper. Your grip on the chair leg falters.

“Todd, as much as I enjoy watching you get your ass handed to you - can you please lock in? We have business to attend to.”

taglist: @theendofthematerialgworl @thy-crimson-king @vellichor01

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #lizzy writes

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crispy-art-on-fire · 2 days ago

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Hi, little question. We know how Blitzwing in your Au loves Optimus, but how would he react to other Optimus from other Transformers Universes?

(Or what would he think of everyone?)

All I can imagine Blitzwing playing smash or pass with Optimuses. I know like 5 Optimuses so very short list.

Bayverse - Blitzwing would have the biggest crush ever but also would be fully aware he would kill them without mercy. Hot. Wings is holding Blitz and Zing back from doing something stupid like agitating him enough to fight.

Tf One - Zing would like him but Blitz and Wings wouldn't know what to do with him. He's unproven and young, they're gonna have to see him do something insanely gutsy before making up their mind.

RotB - He's like Bayverse but less unhinged and cool, pass. Also would not let them get away with things.

TF Aligned (Prime) - Blitzwing would find him so hot, that truck alt? That body? That voice? His knowledge, his prowess in battle? The only thing that would prevent Blitzwing from making a move is that Megatron obsession with Optimus and that Optimus would be knowledgeable enough to call them out when they're lying/being manipulative.

Shattered Glass - It's like Optimus but without his admirable qualities, pass. Can't even enjoy him being bloody ruthless because as a tyrant that's no longer a fun trait but something actively dangerous. Blitzwing would be scared of him.

#crispy answers #blitzop #blitzprime

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emotannies · 2 days ago

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main reason i love buddie so much is bc buck as a character flawed and imperfect and is neglected and abandoned and left behind and people seem to think he's too much, even his friends, his family, they don't say it but it's there sometimes. but i love buddie bc eddie loves him unconditionally and unapologetically, platonic or not, eddie loves all of buck

buck who sabotages his house viewings, and then sublets his house so he doesn't have to worry about it, who he hugs goodbye bc of the not non-argument they had

buck who comes out to him after almost breaking his ankle in a hissy fit, who despite the big change is a new thing he gets to love about buck

buck who almost dies and he tries to lift his dead weight suspended in the air, who has to count every single second that his heart is not beating

buck who helped him in a moment of crisis, no questions asked, got him up on his feet and took care of him and his child, not needing anything in return

buck who rescued him as bullets went flying all around them, who put himself in danger to protect the people he loved, who he revealed to be a legal guardian of his child bc he thinks he's dispensable and no one will need him

buck who clawed at the wet dirt trying to get him out, almost kills himself looking for his child after a natural disaster, and had almost ruined his life trying to get his job back

buck who helps him with his worries even tho they're practically strangers, who took a while to warm up to him bc he thought eddie was replacing him

buck who also loves unconditionally and unapologetically everyone around him. who fights and argues and lets his emotions dictate his life. who rants and goes on tangents about things he knows and loves. who bottles his most important emotions just so it doesn't affect the people around him. who want to be the best version of himself people will finally love him for

eddie loves all of buck, the over analyzing, over thinking, over explaining buck, the fun quirky buck, the nerd who spits fire rapid facts at him any given time of day, the buck who takes care of chris like he's his own, the buck that is just a child begging to be loved and cared for by the people in his life

eddie loves buck, platonic or not, he loves him, flaws, imperfections and all. he has done and said some pretty stupid things yet eddie has been the one to be there for him, to show up consistently, to be the person little evan needed growing up.

buck loves loud and strong, eddie loves quietly and subtly. but for buck he's willing to love him back the same. eddie who tries to listen and understands buck, eddie who never put him down for talking to much or talking too fast. eddie who who wants buck to be angry and sad and upset when he needs to feel all those feelings simultaneously

i just love that buck has his person, he might not know it or not acknowledge it or eddie might not say it or know it or acknowledge it either but eddie is and will always be buck's person. i love that eddie loves all of buck, platonic or not, of course

#i love projecting my love for buck thru eddie #i need to see my buck happy and thriving being loved unconditionally #i just needed to wrote something about buddie #but i am right #eddie loves buck #like i love love love evan buckley #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #buck buckley #9 1 1 buddie

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saudianna · 2 hours ago

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💥 love is papaya orange ᝰ.ᐟ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : word count : 1000 on the dot omg (excluding texts) ੈ✩‧₊˚ : synopsis : after oscar's first championship win, his ego clashes with you- lando's lifelong best friend—when they're forced to work closely at McLaren. what starts as hate turns into secret tension, messy feelings, and a tangled love triangle that neither oscar nor lando saw coming… until it explodes into something no one can control!! ੈ✩‧₊˚ : featuring : oscar x engineer!reader x lando ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : ahh okay pt 2! pt3+4 soon and um this is set in 2026 ੈ✩‧₊˚ : genre : smut, smut and more smut!! theres some fluff and angst in the midst of it all ੈ✩‧₊˚ : tws : just love triangle in this chap </3 also alot of teasing n oscar being as complete ASS !!!!

part 4. falling into place 🦊

The following day, you didn't really see each other much, but when you did, you could tell the cloud of dislike had lifted off.

"Hi," he said, smiling for the first time, instead of stupid smirks.

"Hey." you responded, a faint smile

"I was thinking about how to pay you back.." he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down by the chair in front of your desk, manspreading and looking away nervously.

"Yeah?" you said confused, looking up from your laptop,

"I.. could take you for dinner..? he choked out.

"Oh um- Oscar i dont kno-" you were cut off by a loud cough-

"Platonically! Of course.. or professionally, whichever you prefer.." he looked at you and furrowed his brows as you looked a bit incompetent.

"Ah.. In that case sure, but shouldn't we invite Lando? You know, to make sure the paparazzi don't say we are dating?" you said,

"Oh- i hadn't really though about that. But i wouldn't worry about that.. I can book a very private dinner?" he said nervously, using his signature face, one sided smirk and looking to the side.

"Mmm... Alright. Is Thursday good?" and he nodded,

"Yup," the p popping off his tongue, "Perfect. I can pick you up at 8? Or would you rather me order you an uber?" he offered.

"Uh.. id rather uber myself. Thanks." You cleared your throat. 4 days till your dinner. You didn't really expecting your view of him to change all that much after this dinner, but you were willing to try anyway.

"Oh- Alright," he spoke, "Well I'll see you tomorrow, its home time for me." he turned away.

"Bye," you said clearly.

"Bye."

Over the past couple days, your view did change. He was nicer, politer, you finally saw the version of Oscar everyone raved about. His 'polite cat energy' and honestly even the 'boyfriend material' his fangirls always talked about.

On the day of the dinner, you didn't want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you were going to a very fancy restaurant one reserved by only famous people. Insured that paparazzi would not sneak their way around.

So you ultimately threw on a long black silk dress that hugged your curves, not too tight but didn't exactly leave much to the imagination.

Hair curled and fluffy, eyeliner snatching your eyelids, and lips a dark red.

Your uber was nice enough, comfy and a talkative driver, although a bit inexperienced.

But when you got to the restaurant, you were kind of embarrassed to be riding in an uber, you hoped that people just thought it was fancy, your own personal driver.

As you walked in, searching for the familiar face, but he spotted you before you could spot him, walking over to you and smiling

"Hi, thought you weren't coming for a second there." he laughed

"Yeah... My uber didn't really know his way around, sorry about that." You giggled a bit and he smiled

He looked you up and down, "O-oh and you look really beautiful by the way." he said smiling.

You blushed a bit and laughed nervously. "Ah- thank you.. you look really handsome." he smiled really big and took your arm, "Cmon' our tables over here."

You guys sat down and chatted for a bit before the waiter came to take your drink orders.

"Buonasera, have you made a choice on the drinks?" (good evening)

"I'll have a glass of Amarone please."

"Good choice sir, and for your pretty girlfriend?" the waiter said calmly and Piastri nearly spat out his water.

"Ah- She's not my girlfriend.." he muttered and the waiter looked surpised

"My dearest apologies, i just figured from the way you look at her mister, terribly sorry." and the waiter hung his head for a second.

You coughed, "Ahem um... I'll just get the uhh, ahem.. the Chianti.. please.." you said quietly..

The waiter nodded and said softly to you, but loud enough for the very flustered Australian to hear, "He'll ask one day madam."

Oscar coughed very loudly as he saw you very red in the face, "Please will you just go get our drinks..!"

The waiter walked away and the two of you made eye contact

"I'm sorry about that..." he muttered

"Ah.. its okay osc." he blushed at the nickname.

Over the course of dinner, you got to know each other more, you told him how you knew Lando, and he told you how he got into racing.

When you had finished your meals, you realised he really wasnt that bad. I mean, you really liked him. He was sweet, handsome.. but you couldnt get over the fact he was such a prick when you first met.

At the end of the night as you were laid in bed. He dropped you off instead of ubering, and you gave him a hug before you went inside, his touch lingering a bit too much around your waist, and you leaned into it too much.

But fuck, what were you supposed to do?

And now both McLaren drivers looked at you with a glint in their eye, and both for the same-ish reason, love.

I mean, you weren't sure if either of them were in love, i mean, Lando clearly thought you were hot and wanted you, but you didnt know if he felt the same way, as if you wanted to date, but didn't at the same time, in fear of ruining your 20+ year friendship.

And Oscar, i mean you have spent basically more than half of your time knowing him, hating him. And that wasn't particularly a good start.

But, i mean you liked both, what Oscar lacked in confidence, Lando had. And what Lando lacked in gentleman-ness, Oscar had.

And like... why not both?

The next day felt like static in your brain — fuzzy, unpredictable, uncomfortable. You couldn’t keep stringing Lando along, not when Oscar had actually made you feel something... real. Even if it was barely developing. Even if it was new.

So you told him,

You caught Lando just before the briefing that afternoon, cornered in the hallway with his cap on backwards and his classic cocky smirk — the one you used to love.

"Hey... got a sec?"

"Always," he said, leaning against the wall. That look in his eye again.

You inhaled. “Lando, I need to talk to you seriously.” His smirk faltered.

“This... whatever we’ve been doing—”

“You mean fucking?” he joked, but it was tight, like he already knew.

“Yeah. That. I don’t think we should keep it up. Not anymore.”

His brows furrowed. “Wait, what?”

You swallowed. “I like Oscar.”

The silence hit like a punch in the gut. His eyes flicked away for a second before landing back on you, a little colder.

“You like him?” he said, like it tasted bitter in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to.. But I do. And it wouldn’t be fair to you if I pretended I didn’t.”

He scoffed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Right, okay.” You reached out, but he stepped away. “I just— I thought you and me—”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you deserve more than half of me.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just nodded once, sharp and stiff, before walking away.

Later that evening, Oscar found Lando alone in the driver's lounge, staring at a monitor that wasn’t even turned on.

“Hey,” Oscar said cautiously. “You good?”

“Just fine.” Lando said sarcastically, still not looking at him.

Oscar hesitated, then sat beside him. “She told you?”

Lando’s jaw tensed. “Yeah. She told me.”

Oscar nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean for it to get complicated. I just— I like her. Like really like her.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course you do.”

Oscar frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lando looked at him, fire building in his throat. “It means I’ve been messing around with her for years man. Friends-with-benefits type shit. And now suddenly you get all soft-spoken and polite and she falls for you?”

Oscar blinked. “Wait. You and her—?”

Lando nodded once. “Yeah. We were something. Or at least... it felt like something. Until you came along.”

Oscar’s face fell, stunned silent for a second. “I didn’t know.”

“No shit.”

But then Oscar cleared his throat and looked away, red blooming up his neck. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think I just like her.”

Lando blinked. “The hell does that mean?”

Oscar looked at him — really looked at him. “You. You’ve been in my head too. And I hate it. And I don’t understand it. But it’s there.”

Silence.

Lando stared, like Oscar had just admitted to murder. His breathing slowed. He licked his lips, nervous. “Dude… are you saying you like me?”

Oscar swallowed. “I think I do.”

And then — blame the tension, the jealousy, the months of denial — Lando surged forward and kissed him.

Hard.

Oscar kissed back. They both breathed through it, hands grabbing shirt collars, lips parting, heat rushing in places they hadn’t even acknowledged until now.

It was messy. Rough. A collision of all the confusion and lust they’d buried.

But it didn’t last long.

They pulled away, panting, wide-eyed. And then, in perfect timing—

You walked in.

You froze.

They froze.

You blinked once. Twice. “Okay... what the fuck is happening?”

Oscar jumped up. “Wait, it’s not—”

“I mean, it is,” Lando interrupted, wiping his mouth. “But also… not what it looks like?”

You stared at them, dumbfounded, heart pounding. “So let me get this straight: I regretfully dump you, tell you I like him, and you two decide to make out instead?”

Neither of them had an answer.

“I— I don’t even know what to say,” you whispered.

Lando looked away. Oscar ran a hand through his hair.

It was silent for way too long.

Then you just burst out laughing. A short, hysterical laugh. “This is so fucking complicated.”

Oscar laughs, "We'll figure it out."

<- previous | part 4 | forwards ->

ੈ✩‧₊˚ : author's note : um so i had my first college exams guys, (im taking mechatronics enginerring!) and i did so well i think, so sorry this took so long, since its holidays for me soon ill be more active. and omg i think this fic is only gonna be 5 chaps.. i wanted in to be 10 but anyway. send me inbox's pls!! i alr finished my first, gonna release it ltr tdy but pls send more xx

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