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rosyblooom · 2 months

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blooming season🌷 (1) | ln4

"grief is just love with no place to go”

PAIRING: lando norris x fem nepo!reader WORD COUNT: 2.6k WARNING(S): mentions of death & blood, swearing SUMMARY: four years after she fled monaco, y/n is back on the anniversary of her father's death. however, an unexpected encounter with an f1 driver disrupts her plans. A/N: my first time doing this, so probably has errors. if you've got any thoughts or requests pls let me know xoxo hope u enjoy! :)

part 1 <- | part 2

The scent of salt still lingers in the air, but now it feels different, not as welcoming as it used to be. It's a painful reminder of days gone by, days filled with joy and warmth that now seem distant and unattainable. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake off the memories, replaying them in your mind like a scratched vinyl record that refuses to play properly.

Today marks four years since your father's passing, and four years since you left Monaco. You were just eighteen then, fresh out of high school, when the news of your father's tragic car accident hit you like a ton of bricks. In a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sorrow, you packed your bags that very night and left before the weight of it all drowned you.

You couldn't bring yourself to attend your father's funeral, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't real. But deep down, you knew the truth—your father was gone, and nothing could change that. Even as you threw yourself into your studies, pursuing a nursing degree, the pain never truly went away.

And now, here you are, sitting alone on this deserted stretch of beach, watching the waves crash against the shore in a steady rhythm.

This spot holds a special place in your heart, known only to a handful of locals—a fact you couldn't be more grateful for. Here, away from the watchful eyes of tourist crowds, you find solace as you simply listen to the earth rotate.

You exhale slowly, leaning forward to brush the sand from your palms before reaching into your bag for the bottle of red wine nestled inside. It takes a bit of effort to uncork it completely, but the satisfying pop is worth the wait. With careful precision, you fill a wine glass to the brim with the rich, maroon liquid—something to take the edge off.

"Welcome back, Y/N," you whisper to yourself, lifting the glass in a silent salute. "Thank you, thank you. I can't imagine anything worse."

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips, a stark contrast to your usual composed demeanour. It's been 1,460 days, yet it feels like your world only just came crashing yesterday.

Needing calm now, you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness, when the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention, pulling you back to the present moment.

"Seriously?" you think to yourself, feeling your heart plummet like a stone sinking into deep waters. You took every precaution to keep your return under wraps—after all, you paid good money for that privilege.

Arriving just last night, you made it a point to rise at the crack of dawn, a time before the world awoke; a time when it's just you and no one else. You couldn't bear the idea of facing the prying eyes that would surely accompany the day ahead. For once, you didn't want to be known as the daughter of one of Monaco's wealthiest families; you simply wanted to be yourself, stripped of titles and expectations—a daughter mourning her father.

Feeling like a trapped animal, you become acutely aware of every sound and movement, your gaze locked on the figure approaching.

A man.

His brown curls bounce with each step until he comes to an abrupt stop just a few feet away from you.

With a small wave and a nod, he greets you with a simple "Hey."

It takes a moment for you to register that the greeting is directed at you, causing you to tear your gaze away without a response. Your eyes flit between the gentle ripples of the sea and the man settling down uncomfortably close, prompting an annoyed grunt to escape your lips.

“Fuck spatial awareness, huh…,” you mutter under your breath, though not quiet enough to evade his notice. He slips off his black headphones, eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Sorry, what?"

You clear your throat, then sit up straight and gesture expansively. "All this space, and you have to sit right next to me?”

He smiles.

Your gaze narrows.

"But I'm not right next to you," he retorts with a playful grin. "You're all the way over there." He points towards you and then at himself. "And I'm right here."

"Well, it's still too close," you snap.

"Sorry, did you buy this beach or something?" he counters, his grin widening. "Last time I checked, it's open to all members of—."

Growing increasingly frustrated, you interject, "No, I didn't buy anything. I just want some personal space. But clearly, that's lost on you."

With a scoff, you spring to your feet, snatching up your towel and cramming it into your bag, sand and all.

"Wait, you don't have to leave," he insists, his footsteps drawing closer. But you pay him no mind, tossing your phone into your bag and hastily gathering the rest of your belongings from the ground.

Once everything is crammed into your bag, you snatch up your half-empty glass of wine and stand upright, only to feel a foreign warmth enveloping your hand and glass. The man now stands directly in front of you, invading your personal space completely; you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his piercing green gaze.

"Look, I'm sorry if I did something wrong, but—" he begins, but you cut him off sharply.

"Way too close now," you snap, attempting to pull your hand away, but he refuses to release his grip.

"You do realise I'm trying to apologise, right?" he asks, confusion evident in his eyes.

"I don't care."

His grip remains firm. "There's plenty of space for both of us here."

"It doesn't matter anymore," you respond, your patience wearing thin.

The struggle continues, your voice growing louder with each tug. "Let go of the fucking glass!"

Suddenly, a sharp yell pierces the air, followed by the hollow thuds of broken glass hitting the ground. Shock washes over you as you barely register the sticky liquid trickling down your hand and onto your toes.

"Ah, shit," he exclaims, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly assess the situation, noticing the shattered remnants of the wine glass scattered on the ground, staining the sand crimson.

Panic sets in as you frantically check your hand and feet for any injuries, your eyes wide with fear. After several anxious moments, you breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm okay.

The tranquillity is abruptly shattered by deep groans echoing through the air, drawing your attention to the man's slumped figure with his back turned to you. His face remains hidden from view.

Though he's clearly in pain, you're tempted to slip on your shoes and make a hasty escape. Today is already burdened with its own weight; you're not sure you can handle any more. You even take a step back, ready to flee, but then something stops you.

A pang of guilt washes over you, weighing you down like heavy bags strapped to your legs. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly admit to yourself, "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Okay, fine. How about you put on your big boy boots and let me take a look at that?" you say, crossing your arms expectantly.

There's no reaction from him, not even a response.

Rolling your eyes, you drop your bag onto the sand and cautiously circle around him until you're face-to-face with his unruly brown curls.

"Hello?" you tap his shoulder, frustration creeping into your voice. "Earth to the stranger who doesn't understand personal space?"

"Seriously?" he retorts, his tone sharp.

His eyes meet yours as he straightens up, his expression guarded, but you simply shrug, maintaining a neutral demeanour, and extend your hand.

"Let me see," you say calmly.

For a moment, he simply stares at you in bewilderment, but then he tentatively extends his hand towards yours.

"I see," you breathe, examining the large cut in his palm with care, mindful not to dirty it with your fingers. Despite the blood seeping from the wound, you release a relieved sigh after a thorough inspection—it's not as deep as it initially appeared.

"Alright," you announce, dropping his hand and clapping your hands together. "Go home, make sure nothing touches that hand, clean the cut, and bandage it. Keep it dry for a couple of days, and then reassess."

Without waiting for a response, you turn towards your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and shoot him one final glance.

"This has been... unpleasant," you remark dryly. "I really hope our paths don't cross again. Goodbye."

"Wait!"

You shake your head and ignore him, determined to continue onward.

"Wait!" he calls out again, desperation evident in his tone. "I don't have any bandages!"

You stop walking, considering his words, but still don't turn around.

"And... I don't have any sanitising stuff either," he adds, his voice trailing off slightly.

Slowly, you turn around and wave your hands dismissively in the air, shouting back, "That's what supermarkets are for! I guess it's time for a shopping trip!"

Just as you're about to spin on your heel and leave again, his voice cuts through the distance.

"Look, you seem like you know what you're doing. Can't you just help me out here?"

Shielding your eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, you squint at him as he begins jogging toward you. "That advice," you shout back, "was me helping you out. Trust me, I wanted to leave way earlier."

For a moment, neither of you speaks as you watch him closing the distance between you. When he finally comes to a halt in front of you, you instinctively take two steps back—you need your personal space.

"So?" he says between pants, waiting for your response.

You furrow your brows, deep in thought. "Well, I don't have anything on me, sorry to disappoint. But like I said, there are shops around here."

You resume your walk, but to your dismay, the guy falls into step with you almost immediately.

"So, what? You have nothing at home?" he presses, his gaze burning into the side of your face.

Refusing to meet his eyes, you increase your speed.

"Right, because I'm just going to invite a stranger," you emphasise, "who I didn't want to be around in the first place, into my home."

His hand suddenly grips your arm, causing you to instinctively rip out of his grasp, both of you coming to an abrupt halt.

"What?" you bark, irritation seeping into your tone.

"You can google me," he offers, his voice calmer now. "Lando Norris, Formula One driver. Search my name up. You'll see pictures—every single detail about me, you'll probably find on the internet. Now I'm not a stranger anymore, right?" he suggests, his gaze pleading.

You remain silent, shifting your focus toward the calm waters as you breathe in and out. It feels as though the world has paused, waiting for you to come to a decision, to reach a conclusion.

Today, the anniversary of your father's death, is a day you've been dreading yet anticipating for so long. Its disruption unsettles you, but deep down, you know you can't simply ignore it. As much as you wish to skip over this chapter of your life, tear out its pages, and never look back, you can't. It's not healthy.

Still, that doesn't mean you can't delay it for a little while longer.

"Fine," you sigh, relenting to the situation, and begin rummaging through your bag until you locate your phone.

Quickly, you extract it and raise it to Lando's face, snapping a photo of him with the flash on.

"What the hell?" he exclaims, blinking rapidly.

"For my protection," you state matter-of-factly. "Just because you're famous doesn't mean you can't be a bad person."

Once his gaze meets yours again, he runs a hand through his hair and offers a sheepish smile. "Fair enough."

You nod, acknowledging his words, and continue your walk toward the car park.

"I'm not a bad person, though," he adds quickly, catching up to you.

"Colour me convinced," you reply dryly.

*********

As you approach the car park, annoyance bubbles within you at the sight of it: filled with cars and swarmed by dozens of people.

"You said you're a Formula One driver, right?" you ask, tilting your head up at Lando.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

Instead of answering, you grab the hood of his jacket and pull it over his head.

"Why did you do that—" Lando begins, but you cut him off.

"The last thing I need is a mob of your fans, okay?" you interject firmly. "The quicker we get this done, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

Lando chuckles as he adjusts the hood. "I'm really that bad, huh?"

"Worse," you deadpan.

"...Right."

With your raven car in sight, you quicken your pace, relief flooding through you. The last thing you want is for people to realise you're back, especially not today.

However, as if your luck has run out, a woman steps in front of you, blocking your path. You immediately turn your focus to Lando, motioning for him to take a picture with his fan and hurry up.

But instead of the attention falling on him, a weight suddenly falls onto your shoulder, catching you off guard. You clear your throat, preparing to speak, but the woman beats you to it.

"Oh my goodness, Y/N. It's you, isn't it?" the woman exclaims, her voice filled with recognition and sympathy.

You can't reply; your mouth feels dry, your tongue heavy with unspoken words.

No, not today. Please, not today.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Y/N," she continues, her expression radiating pity. It's uncomfortable—the way she looks at you, the way she touches your shoulder so gently. It feels like you're being burned alive, yet you're immobilised, just as you were four years ago when you first heard the news.

"Your father was such an amazing man. And you, I mean, you've been missed. My daughter loves you—"

Suddenly, you're being pulled forward, jolting you out of your trance. You struggle to keep your balance as you try to comprehend what's happening—the woman is gone, and Lando's hand is firmly clasped around yours, pulling you closer to him.

Your personal space has been completely invaded, yet you don't feel the usual urge to pull away. Even if you did, you're not quite sure Lando would let you.

"Your car's the black one, right?" you hear him ask, but the words don't immediately register.

"Huh?" you mumble, still reeling from the encounter.

"That black car over there," Lando points and leans in close, his gaze locked with yours, "that's yours, right?"

You nod, still not quite ready to speak.

Lando releases your hand and holds out his palm to you. "Okay, car keys, please?"

"What? No," you shake your head, rejecting the idea. "There's no need for that."

"Come on, I'm a Formula One driver, remember? I won't crash it."

"It would be irresponsible of me to let you drive in this state," he adds, his voice firm.

"And what about your hand?" you nod toward the injury.

"Like I said," Lando smiles slyly, cocking his head to the side, "I drive race cars; I think I can handle driving with one hand."

Rolling your eyes, you relent, "Okay, fine."

With a sigh, you fish out the car keys from your bag and hand them over to him.

4:05 ───────────ㅇ─ 4:28

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 10 months

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ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS S2 BTS VIDEO! :)❤ 🐍😊

David: Good Omens 2 will be once more unto the breach...

Michael: The kind of world that Neil and Terry Pratchett created here. It's... it seems to be expanding out into the world in all kinds of unexpected and and truly joyful ways.

Douglas Mackinnon (the directior): If Season one was a comedy about the End of the World, Season Two is a comedy about the beginning of everything else.

Miranda Richardson (demon Shax): The Bromance is continuing.

Doon Mackichan (Archangel Michael): What a cast, is all I can say, incredible, incredible cast.

Liz Carr (angel Saraqael): But of course a script of Good Omens is a whole different thing because anything can happen.

Shelley Con (Prince of Hell Beelzebub): There's always a smirk somewhere around the corner in a Good Omens script.

Quelin Sepulveda (angel Muriel): I had no idea what to expect, where this character was gonna go...

Liz: I feel quite honored that when they were thinking of the realms of sarcasm they thought of me.

Gloria Obianyo (angel Uriel): Seven-year-old me is like, 'Oh my God! This is the stuff of dreams!'

Maggie Service (human Maggie): A whole Fantastical Universe of joy that we just get to playing and you'll get to watch.

Tim Downie (Mr Brown): I am immeasurably, immeasurably excited.

Jon Hamm (Archangel Gabriel / Jim): You know I was very pleased when when I was brought back to be a part of that story.

Neil Gaiman: Ppeople are excited and I'm working so hard to tell them absolutely nothing. I'm very lucky because Michael Sheen and David Tennant love Crowley and Aziraphale. I think the first moment that I saw David and Michael acting together... all of a sudden there was Crowley and there was Aziraphale, it was like seeing two friends who I hadn't seen for years.

David: There's something about the way Neil sees the mundane that is extraordinary and there's something about the way things filter through his imagination and of course in this world it also sprinkled with the imagination of Terry Pratchett and those two together created this cocktail that is it's unlike anything you've seen anywhere else and yet it feels utterly familiar.

Michael: And they both have a sense of the absurdity of what it is to be a human.

Rob Wilkins: When you've got David and Michael in front of the camera David and Michael evaporate and you have Crowley in Aziraphale and that relationship it needed it needed interrogating more and of course we all know that Terry and Neil had conversations about what the sequel would be and Neil has taken that and he's blown it up in a way that the viewers are just going to love so what would Terry think? Terry would pat Neil on the back and he would push Good Omens forward, he would break a bottle of champagne over its bows and be absolutely delighted and I know that, I'm the one person on Earth who's been entrusted to know that for certain and I promise you Terry would be absolutely delighted.

David: We've got some cast members coming back, returning but playing different parts which is a lovely little addition to things isn't it, so Miranda Richardson is back not playing the same role as Season One, she's now Shax, my replacement - Crowley's replacement on Earth.

Neil: Shelley Conn came in as Beelzebub and it feels in a weird way kind of like a Doctor Who Regeneration. We have a new demon called Furfur played by Rheece Shearsmith who was our Shakespeare in Season One.

David: Nina and Maggie were two of the Sisters in Season One, The nunnery of Doom, and now they are two characters imaginatively called Nina and Maggie.

Maggie: In season one really it was just me and the nuns, it was the nun gang, so to actually get to meet Aziraphale and Crowley... I hadn't been prepared for how delightful Aziraphale is.

Neil: Season Two begins about threem four years after the events of Season One.

Michael: Aziraphale and Crowley now are, you know, out on their own, they're.. they're a team to themselves.

Neil: Everything changes when Aziraphale gets an unexpected visitor.

Michael: A familiar face comes along with a mystery that needs solving and as Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to solve that mystery they realize that there are much more terrifying things ahead than they've had to deal with in the past. That involves having to go back through history as well to get clues as to what might be going on.

David: When we go back into these stories set within Aziraphale and Crowley's personal history there are moments within those stories where where their relationships sort of pivots or develops in some way. Himself and Aziraphale I think rely on each other even more in season two than they did in Season One because they are by necessity and by circumstance they're a they're a double act that nobody else can join.

Michael: It's extraordinary to see how important these characters and this story have become to a lot of people and how much people enjoy expressing themselves through art, through fan fiction.

David: I went to a Comic-Con and the amount of Crowleys and Aziraphales that I saw everywhere, the cosplaying just took off, and always in twos, which was joyous because of course the characters in my mind only exist in relation to each other. They are the Ying and the Yang.

Michael: It's such a... I think it's such a compliment and I think Neil feels the same way as well.

Maggie: Always clever Neil Gaiman, isn't he?

Nina: Yeah yeah, you'd have to sort of admit that at some point, yeah-

Maggie: He's quite good at his job.

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whytheylosttheirminds · 11 days

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I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 4)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

(Prologue and Ch. 1) // (Ch. 2) // (Ch. 3)

Rafe had his head down on the rusting metal table. The sheriff’s deputies had all taken turns trying to interrogate him about the events of the day before, but none of them had succeeded in getting him to admit his father was on that plane. His hands were still bloody from the fight and he was exhausted, having been awake for nearly 48-hours.

The door creaked open again, but he didn’t bother lifting his head, anticipating another round of questions he wasn’t going to answer.

“Well,” Shoupe said with a sigh. “You’re free to go.”

Rafe raised his head with a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Shoupe? Couldn’t make anything stick?”

Shoupe rolled his eyes, “just stay on the island, alright? We’re not done with you yet.”

“Actually, sounds like you are,” Rafe stood and patted Shoupe’s shoulder condescendingly as he started walking towards the door.

“Funny, I didn’t think there was anyone left on this island who cared enough about you to wait in the station lobby all night, but apparently I was wrong,” Shoupe said as Rafe opened the door.

Keeping his back turned, Rafe stood in the doorway with his brow furrowed. He didn’t want to give Shoupe the satisfaction of knowing he also had no idea who could care enough about him to be there.

As he passed the rest of the officers, standing there watching him in disgust and disbelief that he was getting away again, he gave them a smirk and a mocking salute, “a pleasure as always.”

You shifted in the uncomfortable lobby seat, continuously fidgeting both from discomfort and panic at the idea of seeing Rafe. When you had approached the front desk and told them you were here to post bail for Rafe Cameron, the woman behind the counter looked at you annoyed and informed you that you couldn’t, as Rafe hadn’t officially been charged yet.

“Charged with what?” You asked.

She rolled her eyes at your naivete and returned to the sudoku she had been working on.

“Okay, then,” you said as you took a seat in the empty waiting area.

That was six hours ago, but you figured if he hadn’t been charged, they would have to release him eventually, and you’d be here waiting. You had no earthly idea what you would say to him when the time came, but you’d be here, and maybe that would be enough.

He strutted into the lobby like he owned the place, his cocky walk coming to an abrupt halt when he looked up and saw you sitting there. You rose to your feet, shocked at the sight of him even though it was all you had been thinking about since you ran out of the cemetery hours ago.

Rafe looked at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before. In his eyes, you could see his brain at work, like he was calculating. What choices he was weighing, you weren’t sure, but you certainly didn’t expect the move he made next.

“Hey, baby!” He called out, striding toward you quickly, pulling you into his arms. Just as you opened your mouth to respond, he kissed you. It was sloppy and crude, his tongue invading your mouth as hands grabbed your ass, lifting you into the air. Your face burned with shock and embarrassment, knowing all of the cops in the station could see you two. Then it clicked - that’s exactly why Rafe was doing it.

Before had a chance to decide if you were going to play along or slap him, he broke the kiss and threw his arm around your shoulders, walking you toward the front door.

“Later, Shoupe!” Rafe called over his shoulder, turning the two of you slightly, allowing you to get a quick look at Shoupe standing with his hands on his hips, red in the face. What the fuck did Rafe do to make Shoupe look at him like that?

You stayed silent as Rafe walked you through the door, leading you down the block and turning onto a side street. The second you were out of sight of the station, he pulled his arm away and took several long strides to create as much space between you as possible.

He looked at you for a long moment, once again calculating his next move. You froze in anticipation as he opened his mouth to say something, heart dropping when he changed his mind and closed it again. Silently, he turned and started walking away from you down the street.

“My car’s the other way,” you said, feeling stupid for saying such a mundane thing in such a heated moment.

“Have a nice walk then,” he called back sarcastically.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” he was almost too far for you to hear now. You started after him, needing to jog a bit to catch up with him.

“Let me give you a ride,” you panted once you had caught up to him, stepping in front of him to stop him from getting any further away.

“Think I’d rather walk,” he said dismissively.

“It’s 10pm, and you’re gonna what? Walk through The Cut in the middle of the night? I know I’ve been gone for a while, but I don’t think they’ve changed their opinion on having Kooks in their territory,” you were pulling out any logic you could think of to get him into your car so you could finally talk to him.

Taking your point, he rolled his eyes and turned around, walking in the direction you had indicated your car was in.

You drove in silence for what felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been, as you knew the drive to Tannyhill was fifteen minutes tops. Rafe was looking out the window, hands anxiously rubbing up and down his thighs as he kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he was fighting against some invisible restraint. You were trying hard to keep your eyes on the road, but couldn’t control the way they kept drifting over to him, eyeing the blood on his battered hands. The remnants of what was clearly not a good forty-eight hours all over him.

You had so many things you wanted to say, so many questions you wanted to ask him, that you almost couldn’t think straight. You were still reeling from the news that his father had died, and now the sight of him walking out of the sheriff’s station covered in blood. If so much could happen to him in just a few weeks, you didn’t even want to think about how much of his life you missed in the last two years.

After a while, the silence so tense it almost hurt, you decided to dip your toe in the water.

“Is it yours?” You asked, forcing your eyes to stay on the road.

“What?” He mumbled as he ran his hands over his buzzed head, still not looking at you.

“The blood,” you clarified.

“Some of it,” he answered honestly.

You nodded, as though this was all super normal. “And the rest of it?”

He threw his head back on the seat and let out a forceful sigh, pointedly not answering your question. You decided you’d tested the waters enough and remained silent the rest of the drive.

When you pulled up to the gate at Tannyhill, you rolled down the window so you could reach the box to put the code in, looking at Rafe expectedly. Your attempted nonchalance didn’t work, he rolled his eyes at you, pulling out his phone. As he typed the code into his app, he used his other hand to cover the numbers from your view. Long gone were the days he’d text you the code the second Ward changed it so you could sneak in and out to see him whenever you wanted. The days he’d hold you until you fell asleep, whispering to you about how someday he’d inherit this house and share it with you. As you watched the gates slowly open in the glow of your headlights, the future you once believed in so fiercely had never felt further away.

You drove slowly down the long drive toward the house, surprised to see it was completely dark.

“Where is everyone? Where’s Sarah?” You asked.

“Just drop me here,” Rafe ignored your question.

You stopped the car a few yards from the front door, and Rafe immediately climbed out, closing the door loudly behind him and walking toward the house. You weren’t exactly expecting him to invite you in, but this non-goodbye was so abrupt you felt cheated. Your mind raced with all the things you still wanted to say as you watched Rafe walking toward the house, your chance to finally say them going with him.

You snapped out of your haze and threw open the car door, not bothering to close it behind you as you ran after him calling, “wait!”

He turned on you quickly, making you stop in your tracks a few feet from him. Suddenly, all the things you wanted to say disappeared from your mind and you swallowed hard.

“What do you want?” He prompted, looking annoyed at how long it was taking you to form a sentence. “Why the hell were you at the station?”

“I just…” you could feel him preparing to turn and keep walking back towards the house, you needed to say something, fast. “Your dad.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, he didn’t know what you had heard and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

“I’m…” you took one step towards him. “Rafe, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He left the question open ended, forcing you to reveal exactly how much you knew.

“I saw his plot, at the cemetery,” you didn’t need to tell Rafe what you were doing at the cemetery, he had been there with you on multiple occasions, including the day they buried your own father.

Rafe just shrugged, looking at the ground to avoid your empathetic gaze.

“Rafe,” you said quietly, the sound of his name on your tongue sending chills through you both. When he still didn’t look up at you, you stepped closer. He tried to dodge your eyeline, but you reached up gently and placed your fingers under his jaw, looking him straight in the eye as you asked, “what’s going on?”

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, chest to chest as you searched each other’s faces in the glow of the moon. If he’d let you, you would stand there for hours, just studying him, trying to read it all on his face. You used to know the meaning of every expression he made, every glint in his eye, every twitch of his lips. The two of you used to be able to have full conversations without saying a word. Now, your eyes searched every inch of his face, and you were coming up with nothing.

He snapped his head back suddenly, ripping it away from your hand like you were burning him. He shook his head, and he wasn’t sure who he was saying no to- you or himself.

“Just go home, y/n,” he said, arm outstretched, gesturing towards your car dismissively.

“I can’t,” you spoke into the darkness.

Rafe caught himself before asking you why, trying to preserve the image that he didn’t care. He assumed it had something to do with your mom. He had spent countless hours of his life listening to your stories of fights with your mother, even being present and involved in several of them, often being the source of the conflict. He swallowed the temptation to ask you what happened, pushing away the desire to have you laying with your head in his lap, gently playing with your hair as he let you rant as long as it took for you to feel better. He pushed the memory away, an action that was muscle memory to him at this point.

“Well you can’t stay here,” he told you.

“But I just want to-”

“Just leave! We both know you know how to, you’re a fucking professional at it!” His booming voice echoed through the evening air and shot straight through you.

Tears sprang to your eyes, the sound of his raised voice so jarring. He had never screamed at you like this. Even in moments of frustration, just the thought of making you cry was enough to break him.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears slip through and slide down your cheeks. You turned from him, but he’d already seen them. Guilt and fury battled in his chest, wanting to hold you and push you away at the same time. He hated the sight of your tears, but being able to release the hurt and anger he’d been feeling for two years felt somewhat satisfying, too. He felt like he was two completely different people, not sure he wanted to be either of them.

You sniffled and wiped your tears with the backs of your hands, gathering yourself before turning back to him.

“I know that I hurt you,” you said. “But I have my side of the story, too.”

“The story?” he scoffed. “You said you’d love me forever and then you didn’t. You said you wouldn’t disappear into the night and that’s exactly what you did. You’re a liar. That’s the story.”

Every day for two years, you had broken your own heart. You had never stopped trying to fight the demons of that night. You had devoted your life to trying to figure out what the hell had happened that could’ve ended with you on a train, riding off into the night against your will. For two years, you’d spent your nights praying to any God that would listen to let you go back in time, to undo this twisted fate.

But none of those agonizing nights hurt quite like this. He really thought you had wanted to leave? That you just up and stopped loving him? You knew he had no way of knowing what really happened, but you were still clinging to some small shred of hope that he’d give you the benefit of the doubt. Clearly he hadn’t.

“Is that what you think?” You asked in a small voice.

“That’s what I know,” he corrected.

No words came to you as all of the tiny cracks in your heart you had worked so hard to fill ripped open again. Rafe only took your silence as confirmation.

“Let it go, y/n,” he said, turning to walk towards the house. “I have.”

With that, he closed the door firmly behind him, the lock clicking loudly.

So that was it then. Seven years of friendship, five years of wild love, two years of heartbreak. Fourteen years of him gone, the rest of your life without him a sprawling void ahead of you. The kiss you shared in the sheriff’s station would be your last. Your last kiss and it wasn’t even real, the agony of that thought pushed you ever the edge and the tears you’ve been trying to stifle flowed free. Shoulders shaking with your sobs, you forced yourself to walk back to the car, no idea where you’d go once you were in it.

The door was still open, but the light had gone out. Once inside, you turned the key and the engine sputtered meekly as you tried and failed to turn it over.

“Shit!” You screamed, slamming your hands against the steering wheel. Leaving the door open must’ve killed the battery. You cursed your mom for insisting on still driving this piece of shit even though she could easily afford an upgrade.

A professional leaver, Rafe had called you. The irony that just minutes after he said that you were literally unable to leave made you chuckle humorlessly. All of the emotion of this week weighing on your shoulders, you sat and cry-laughed into the darkness, feeling completely unhinged. What was supposed to be a quick, uneventful trip to your hometown had turned into a complete shitshow, you don’t know why you expected anything less.

You sat in the dark, giving up on trying to start the car. What were you supposed to do here? You could either knock on the door and chance another verbal bruising from Rafe, or walk home in the dead of night and face your mother. You fell asleep trying to decide which was worse.

Seven Years Earlier…

There were so many people packed into your house, you assumed nobody would notice when you slipped out and hopped on your bike. You were wrong. Rafe saw your bike lying on its side on the path leading down toward the beach, you hadn’t even bothered to put up the kickstand.

He followed your footsteps down to the water. It was chilly and raining, the beach completely clear of people. The rain was falling hard, washing your footsteps from the sand, but he managed to follow what was left of them to the abandoned lifeguard tower you used to climb on as kids. There you were, sitting underneath the wooden structure for shelter, feet digging into the sand as you hugged your knees to your chest. Rafe stopped short, he hated seeing you upset, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to make you feel better. He had never been very good at feelings.

He decided he would approach you anyway, not saying anything in order to avoid saying the wrong thing. He ducked down and slid between the stilts of the tower, finding a space on the ground next to you.

You didn’t have to look over to know who it was, you could feel him. You were relieved when Rafe didn’t say anything, you were so overwhelmed by the chaos of the day, you couldn’t form words to explain it if you tried. After a few minutes, you couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and they began rolling down your face in big, fat drops.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe said, startled by your sudden outburst. He put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You laid your head on his shoulder and he awkwardly rubbed his hand up and down your back. “It’s…it’s gonna be ok,” he said hesitantly, terrified he’d somehow make you feel worse.

The soft fabric of the black dress your mother had chosen for you to wear to your father’s wake felt nice under his fingertips. His hand grazing softly up and down your back felt nice as you let the tears fall. You let Rafe soothe you for a few minutes, before taking a deep breath and wiping your tears away with the back of your hands.

“Sorry,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he assured with a sincerity that almost made you start crying again.

You looked over at him for the first time, his hair messy and wet from walking all the way here from your house in the rain. His cheeks were pink from the chilly air and the bashfulness he was feeling from sharing such an intimate moment with you. You had always thought he was cute, but in this moment, you realized you absolutely adored him.

“I just didn’t want to be there anymore,” you explained. “I don’t even know half of those people and everyone just kept hugging me.”

“I wouldn’t want to be there either,” he reassured you.

You nodded, sniffling, and giving him a thankful smile. Without really thinking it through he reached out a shaky hand and wiped the remaining tears off your cheeks. His hand lingered, and you placed yours on top of it, squeezing gently with appreciation. The contact made both of you blush and you looked away from each other. You had been friends since you were both six-years-old, of course you had touched before, but something about this time felt different.

“I know how you feel,” he said in a voice so quiet that you could barely hear it over the pattering of rain on the wooden structure above you and the crashing of waves.

That’s right. In the storm of your own grief you had almost forgotten that Rafe had once lost a parent, too. It was about a year after you got to the island, he had missed two weeks of school in the third grade. When he came back, he started his still-running reign of principal’s office MVP.

“I know it feels like maybe you won’t ever be happy again,” he looked out at the ocean, afraid you would notice the water starting to collect in the corners of his eyes. “But you will be. You’ll find something that makes you happy, and soon it won’t hurt so bad.”

“Did you?” You asked.

“Did I what?”

“Find something that made you happy again?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

Rafe looked down at his feet shyly, his hand scratching the back of his neck in discomfort. You teasingly elbowed him, making him laugh. He swallowed hard before mumbling, “you.”

Your stomach flipped and your face went beat red, completely caught off guard by his answer. Once again, your heart ached with the affection you felt for him. You reached out and lightly tucked your fingers under his chin, pulling his face up to meet your gaze.

“You make me happy, too,” you confessed.

You had never done it before, and you weren’t really sure how to, but you knew that you just had to kiss him. Rafe had the same idea, and met you half-way with his own lips puckered.

It was quick and innocent, the first of a million kisses you’d share. You didn’t know how it was possible to feel so sad and so happy at the same time, but you felt as though you could face anything now that you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Now…

TAP TAP TAP. Your eyes flew open as you lifted your head from the window and took in your surroundings, unsure of where you were. As your blurry surroundings came into focus, you were pulled down from your post-sleep haze by the looming figure of the man on the other side of the window. Rafe stood outside your car window, holding up a steaming mug of coffee.

You rolled the window down, smiling shyly at Rafe as you blinked rapidly in the soft morning light.

“Hi,” you said weakly.

“You sleep here?” He asked with neither amusement nor annoyance in his voice.

“The car wouldn’t start,” you explained. “I think the battery died.”

“You could’ve told me, I could’ve called Triple A,” he chided.

“I wasn’t sure you would’ve opened the door if I knocked,” you pointed out.

“That’s fair,” he agreed. The gentleness he was speaking to you with now was in such stark contrast to the tone he’d used last night. You didn’t want to say anything, scared to disturb the calm waters.

He handed the coffee to you, which you accepted gratefully. You took a sip, two creams and one sugar - he remembered.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“You can come inside while I call someone to come jump the car,” he offered.

You were so confused, but didn’t want to question it. You simply nodded as he opened the car door for you so you could climb out without spilling the coffee.

After calling Triple A, Rafe joined you on the back porch, now with his own cup of coffee.

“Still take yours black?” You asked.

“The way coffee should be?” He teased. “Yes, yes I do.”

You smiled and you shook your head at him, clutching your coffee and looking out at the sun rising over the sea. The two of you sat in silence for a while on opposite sides of the wicker patio couch, sipping your coffees and avoiding each other’s eyes.

You thought through the events of yesterday, remembering everything Rafe had said, and everything you wanted to say but hadn’t been able to. Rafe’s words were so cruel, but you got the sense he had fully believed everything he said. You thought you would never get the chance to respond to his accusations, but your car troubles had given you this extra time with him, and you didn’t want to waste the second chance. Should you make a joke? Try to tease him some more about his coffee preferences? Should you ask about his dad, or the reason he had been taken in to the sheriff’s office for questioning? Rafe clearly didn’t want to talk about his dad, and if this was your last chance to talk to him, you didn’t want to waste it on small talk. You decided your only option was to talk about yourself, about how you are feeling, and let him decide if he wanted to hear it or not.

“You’re wrong,” you said, sitting up to look at him.

Your direct words startled him and he snapped his head to you, also sitting up straight.

“About what?” He says defensively.

You look at him, hoping he can’t tell that your heartbeat is spiking and your throat is tight with anxiety. You need what you’re about to say to come out confidently, you need to say it with your chest or you may as well not say it at all.

“I never lied to you,” you told him. “And I never stopped loving you.”

Rafe’s face went pale, not at all expecting you to say that. He set his coffee down and got up from the couch, walking quickly back into the house and leaving you sitting alone, heart in hand.

You followed him into the house, feet padding on the wooden floor behind him.

“Please just talk to me,” you pleaded.

He rounded on you, forcing you to step back.

“Don’t say shit like that!” He yelled.

“Don’t yell at me!” You matched his energy. “You never used to yell at me.”

“You left, y/n! What was I supposed to do, stay exactly the same and wait patiently for you to come back from God-knows-where like a good boy? No!” He jammed his finger into his chest, “I grew up! I became a fucking man! And now you wanna just waltz in like nothing fucking happened? It’s too late for that!”

You didn’t cower, but got closer to him with each proclamation he made. You found something in you that you hadn’t had last night, something like courage.

“You’re fucking right you changed! You know how I know? The old Rafe would’ve listened to me for two fucking seconds so I could explain!”

“I don’t wanna hear any fucking excuses-”

“I’m not making excuses! If you’d let me speak for two fucking seconds, you’d know that!”

“There’s nothing you could say that would make me not pissed at you,” his voice was lowered but still filled with vitriol.

“You know what? Fine,” you shot back. “Be pissed at me. But I’ve had a long, unbelievably shitty two years and I’m not gonna stand here and let you scream at me as if you’ve never done anything wrong, ‘cause we both know that’s far from the truth.”

Rafe looked at you like you had smacked him, surprise flashing across his face. Of course, he knew you were referring to the accident and the things that happened before you left, right? His face smoothed over with recognition, maybe even relief.

“You’re talking about the accident,” he confirmed.

“Yes, I’m talking about the accident,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “What else would I be talking about?”

He shook his head, “nothing.”

“Unless there’s something you want to tell me?” Like maybe why you were held for questioning by the police for 24-hours, covered in someone else’s blood.

Rafe studied you for any sign that you knew what had really been going on the past few months. You were looking at him so intensely, it was impossible to read your face. He couldn’t bear the thought that you knew what he’d done, what he’d become. And even though he was still pissed at you, still hurt, no matter your supposed explanation for leaving, he was desperate for you to remember him as the person he was before. He needed you to believe he was good.

He drank you in for a long time, standing there with your arms crossed, looking up at him expectantly. Your hair was still messy from your night of tossing and turning in the car. You definitely looked older, but you were still so essentially you. He knew you wouldn’t let him stall much longer, that he would need to respond eventually. So he did.

Rafe stepped closer to you, his tall frame requiring you to tilt your head back to look up at him. He grabbed each of your forearms, pulling them apart, forcing you to uncross them and lose your defensive stance.

“There’s a lot of things I’ve wanted to tell you,” he whispered in a low voice, sending a shiver down your spine. “And things I’ve wanted to show you.”

You feel your new-found courage faltering, but try your best to maintain your confident facade as you respond, “like what?” The small amount of air between you is so tense, you’re being pulled to him like a magnet. You know, you know, you shouldn’t do this. There is so much you need to talk about, so many things left unresolved. But then he licks his lips, an action that used to mean I want you in your own secret language. And fuck if you don’t want him too.

(chapter five)

a/n: y'all. not me making myself cry with this one. your support has absolutely blown me away and made me so happy to be posting my writing again!!! Doing my best with this taglist but if you asked and I left you off please let me know!! ch 5 on it's way!

taglist: @maybankslover @dark1paradise @lmg-stilinski24 @idkdudsworld @mimipanini09 @patis643 @readingsmuts @nymphetkoo @xoxohoneymoongirl @hangmanscoming @azrielsgirll @laniirackssss @rubixgsworld @sweetienans @dasguccier @brain-palacee @ymnizuh @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesgiirl @thewalkingdeadsmut @themindofmoe @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @aerie717 @kickenkricken @st0rmyt @sage-burrow @adoreleeknw @mudisgranapat @sugarmelonwater @blue-greener-weiner @vilentia @sunny1616 @namelesslosers @groovycass @zizuras @lifeonawhim

561 notes · View notes

lnfours · 4 months

Text

paradise on earth | l.n

summary: summer in love.

warnings: smau, actress!reader, obx cast, fluff, language, lando is 100% whipped, might make this a mini series idk yet

face claim: steph bohrer

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

obx

liked by y/ny/l/n, hichasestokes, madisonbaileybabe and 3,383,817 others

another summer with our favorite pogues ☀️ season 3 coming to netflix soon

200,922 comments

y/ny/l/n

poguelandiaaaaa 🫶🏻

obx

we love u 🩷

netflix

looking forward to this one! 🤩

madisonbaileybabe

P4L 🤍

obx

our queen kie 🥹🥹🫶🏻

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, hichasestokes and 2,093,872 others

another summer with my favorite humans 🌊 season 3 is coming to u super soon 🩷

302,827 comments

madisonbaileybabe

my heart ❤️ i love love love you

not pictured: y/n watching f1 between takes

y/ny/l/n

i love you most 😚

and don’t expose me 😔

danielricciardo

is it too late to get a cameo in season 3?

y/ny/l/n

netflix can we get a drive to survive x obx collab??

netflix

on it 🫡

landonorris

can i partake?? i’m the one who showed you this show 😔

y/ny/l/n

no loser

madisonbaileybabe

i can’t do this anymore

landonorizz04

LANDO???????

obxxf1stan

she’s one of us 🫶🏻

landonorris

liked by y/ny/l/n, lnfour, maxfewtrell and 3,098,883 others

beep beep 🚙

203,882 comments

mclaren

landoooooo

quadrant

boss whippin it in the jolly 😮‍💨

y/ny/l/n

how much for a ride, mr. uber driver? 🤔

landonorris

free if you get me a cameo 😌

landonorizz

LANDO FLIRTING????

madisonbaileybabe

y/ny/l/n i support

liked by landonorris

y/ny/l/n

ihy stfu

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, oscarpiastri and 2,452,004 others

filming is wrapped which means i get to stay in bed all day

390,432 comments

madisonbaileybabe

hottie

y/ny/l/n

let’s get married

madisonbaileybabe

say less.

landonorris

😴 <- you

y/ny/l/n

🤓 <- you

landonorris

lies

lnfourupdates

liked by y/ny/l/n and 1,083 others

lando in charleston today!

89 comments

fan1

charleston???

fan2

his obx cameo dream might be coming true

dannyricscowgirl

i don’t think he wants the cameo as much as he wants y/n

boxboxcl6

ur so right.

username004

did i miss something? 🤨

maxsrichbabydaddy

he 100% has a crush on y/n

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, madisonbaileybabe, rudeth and 3,932,005 others

breakfast and dinner

1,003,444 comments

landonorris

no pic creds? 😔

y/ny/l/n

sorry 😬

madisonbaileybabe

get away from my wife landonorris 🤺

landonorris

can you fight???

madisonbaileybabe

yes i can 😤

georgerussell63

how romantic, almost like you two are a couple or something 🤨

landonorris

???!??

lewishamilton

that nighttime sky tho 🤩

landonorris

i’m not lookin at the sky tho 😅

y/ny/l/n

😳 errrrr

mclarenfan0481

LANDO?

georgerussellsmerc

oh i fear he just exposed himself

lando.jpg

liked by y/ny/l/n, charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 3,092,665 others

summer on film 📷☀️

tagged: y/ny/l/n

1,004,772 comments

y/ny/l/n

my personal photographer 🫶🏻

landonorris

oh so that’s what i am to u 😔

danielricciardo

HAHAHAHA

oscarpiastri

is that baguette good tho? y/ny/l/n

y/ny/l/n

‘twas exquisite 😮‍💨

madisonbaileybabe

🥺 stop

y/ny/l/n

🥹 crying.

charles_leclerc

glad ur having a good holiday!! ❤️

landonorris

you too, mate 🥺❤️

georgerussell63

so, like, was i right or..?

landonorris

cannot confirm or deny 😌

maxfewtrell

confirmed: he’s down bad.

georgerussell63

KNEW IT.

landonorris

??!?!?!?

y/ny/l/n

liked by landonorris, rudeth, madisonbaileybabe and 3,654,886 others

1989 tv - track 17 - verse 2

456,987 comments

madisonbaileybabe

🥺 i’ll cry

y/ny/l/n

🥺🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻

landonorris

my book worm 🧡

danielricciardo

WAIT YOU FINALLY ASKED HER?????

oscarpiastri

finally after all that yappin 😩

y/ny/l/n

#4 on the track but #1 in my heart, baby!! 😤

georgerussell63

WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE TOLD ME??????

landonorris

bc u would’ve blabbed 😬

georgerussell63

fair, actually

hichasestokes

FINALLY!! now i fear she won’t stop talking about you even more now landonorris

rudeth

i second that, she was actually insufferable

y/ny/l/n

stfu???? 😐

landonorris

sorry. but, i’m also not 😅

carlos_sainz55

she’s also all he would talk about if it makes you feel any better hichasestokes rudeth

landonorris

liked by y/ny/l/n, madisonbaileybabe, lewishamilton and 2,982,224 others

what’s that song from grease? something about summer loving? idk..

393,440 comments

lewishamilton

ok fine this is adorable

landonorris

thank u lew lew 🥺🫶🏻

lewishamilton

i told u not to call me that

y/ny/l/n

MET A BOY! CUTE AS CAN BE!!!

landonorris

she thinks i’m cute 🥹🥹

maxfewtrell

so does like.. half the population, mate

landonorris

yea but she’s the only one that matters 😌

y/ny/l/n

🥺🥺🥺🥺

madisonbaileybabe

🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

BACK! AWAY!

landonorris

NO 😤

fan1

i love how they’re both fighting for her love

oscarpiastri

didn’t think you were a grease kinda guy

y/ny/l/n

he wasn’t until i made him sit down and watch it 😌

danielricciardo

you have taste. i like you.

landonorris

hey, i have taste !

oscarpiastri

.. no

y/ny/l/n

hey! you’re so pretty! it 100% makes up for ur lack of taste! 🥰

danielricciardo

uuuuuhhhhhhh 😅

pierregasly

crickets …

alex_albon

LMFAO that’s actually funny

charles_leclerc

sorry, mate..

landonorris

OH COME ON.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au #lando norris fluff #smau #social media au #formula one smau #f1 smau #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #ln4 smau

678 notes · View notes

bedsyandco · 7 months

Text

3 times people asked if you and Auston were together + 1 time you finally are?

note: been in a little Auston mood lately and I always enjoy writing my silly little leafs. Feat. teammates JT, Willy, Mitch, Morgan and Matty Marts (miss you king) I don't love this but it's been sitting in my drafts for 2 weeks so...this is a little silly especially the last part

warnings: none? i think…

wc: 1.2k

1 ★ Christmas

It was one of the few days off the guys were given across the season and most of the team were gathering at the Tavares house for christmas dinner. A tradition John started when he became captain.

Auston was watching you from across the room, a smile on his face as he saw you talk to Tessa about something. His smile widened as he watched you throw your head back laughing. When he looked back in front of him, he found 4 pairs of eyes staring him down.

“What?” he asks

“Nothing,” John, Mitch, Willy and Morgan say all at the same time.

“Here we go,” Auston says rolling his eyes

“We didn’t say anything,” Morgan says and Auston gives him a deadpan look.

“Yet” Morgan amends his statement

“Just get it over with,” Auston sighs

“You brought a date,” Morgan starts

“To a team event,” John says

“A woman. A really hot woman.” Willy says grinning a little when Auston glares at him.

“You never bring dates to team gatherings. Ever.” Mitch says

“First of all, it’s not a date, she’s a friend. The same friend I’ve been telling you guys about for months-”

“In all those months you failed to mention that she’s a woman,” Mo points out

“A very hot woman,” Willy says again and lets out a little laugh when Auston punches him on the arm.

“I don’t see why that matters,” Auston mumbles

“Mm you don’t?” Mitch asks looking at him pointedly

“So there’s nothing going on between the two of you?” John asks

“No. Now are we done with the interrogations?” Auston asks and wait for them all to nod before making his way over to you. He wraps his arms around waist from behind as you look out the window admiring the christmas lights.

You shriek when you feel his cold nose press into your neck.

“You little rat, don’t do that!” you say turning around and looping your arms around his neck.

“What you just call me? A rat? Careful, or you’re walking home tonight in the cold.” he says, pinching your waist and you laugh.

“You would never let me walk home alone…would you?” you ask pouting slightly when he jokingly takes a few seconds to think about it.

“No, of course not. I would just be punishing myself since I’d be worried sick about you the entire time.” he says and you smile, resting your cheek against his chest.

“Let’s go eat, I’m starving,” Auston says, squeezing your hip and you laugh.

“When are you not?”

Throughout dinner Auston has a hand on your thigh, tracing patterns lazily, and keeps his gaze on you, choosing to ignore the piercing stares of his teammates.

2 ★ Playoffs

“Auston, wait up, I’ve got something for you.” JT says as the guys all walk to the parking lot after practice.

Auston grimaces when John hands him the jacket, knowing he did it now so that Mitch would see it.

“Is that a…no way.” Mitch says, grabbing the jacket out of Auston’s grip and holding it out in front of him to examine the back. “Is this for who I think it is?”

“Your mom?” Auston asks immaturely and Mitch glares at him.

“The mom jokes are never funny.” Mitch replies and John shakes his head at them, saying goodbye and getting in his car, leaving Auston there to deal with Mitch on his own.

“She gets a jacket huh? What’s next a key to your apartment?” Mitch asks teasingly and his eyebrows shoot to his hairline when Auston doesn’t reply, simply snatching the jacket back and putting it on the passenger seat of his car.

“Oh my God. She already has a key, doesn’t she? Does she have a drawer?” Mitch asks and Auston sighs knowing Mitch wasn’t going to let him go home until he had the answers he was looking for.

“Yes she has a key. And yes she has a drawer, but it’s not like that! Sometimes she comes over and it’s way too late to drive back to her place, so she stays the night and then she has to go to work the next day and she needs something to wear- You know what it doesn’t matter, you’re just going to make it something it isn’t anyway.” Auston says resigned

“Something it isn’t? She has a WAG jacket and a key and drawer in your apartment. Pretty sure it is what I think it is. Why are you so against it anyway, do you not feel anything for her?” Mitch asks, tone serious. Everyone could see that there was intense chemistry between you and Auston, and Mitch knew him. He wouldn’t give a key to just anyone.

“I don’t have time for a relationship right now and we really are just good friends,” Auston claims, hoping Mitch will drop the subject.

Sensing Auston is done with the conversation, Mitch tries to get one last word in before he leaves.

“So uh, when do I get a drawer and key to your apartment? We're friends…”

3 ★ Mitch's wedding

Mitch was standing next to Matt and despite it being his wedding it felt as if at this very moment all eyes were on the two people on the dance floor. You and Auston. It was almost as if people were in a trance, not able to look away as Auston bends down to whisper something in your ear.

“I’m glad he finally has someone,” Matt says

“Oh they’re not together,” Mitch replies and laughs when Matt’s jaw nearly drops

“There’s no way,” Matt says turning his gaze back to the dance floor just as you rest your head on Auston’s chest and his hands slip dangerously low on your back, resting just above your ass.

Matt doesn’t buy it that there’s nothing going on between you and Auston. Having experienced it himself, he knows what that type of chemistry, intimacy and feelings look like.

“People are staring,” you mumble into Auston’s chest and he looks around the room. He was so caught up on you he didn’t even notice that there was barely anyone else on the dance floor, a lot eyes on the two of you.

“What can I say, we put on a good show,” Auston says and you scoff.

“It’s you they’re looking at,” you reply and Auston shakes his head.

“Trust me baby. No one is looking twice at me when you’re standing next to me in that dress. You look stunning,” he says, and your cheeks flush as his eyes run down from your eyes, to your breasts, down to your legs and all the way back up.

“Aus?” you whisper and the way you look at him nearly knocks the breath right out of his lungs because he knows what you’re about to say.

“I know. You don’t need to say it. I feel the same way,” he says and pulls you closer again, kissing your temple and making eye contact with Mitch and Matt across the room, both of them laughing when Auston discreetly flips them of behind your back.

+1 ★

liked by mitchmarner, morganreilly and others.

austonmatthews: happy birthday to the best friend I could ask for. so blessed to have you in my life. thank you for everything you do for me. I love you❤️

view all comments

mitchmarner: feel so betrayed that you called her your best friend. I see how it is.

willynylander: wait until you find out that they've been dating for almost 2 months and he didn't tell you

mattymarts: no way they're finally dating?

mitchmarner: 2 MONTHS?

mitchmarner: you can stay in Arizona. that's where liars belong.

morganreilly: if he stays in AZ who's gonna get you all those points?

mitchmarner: actually come back so I can yell at you

yourusername: love you🩷

sydmartin: happy birthday love! 😚

username22: there's so much going on in this comment section I think we're completely skipping over the fact that Auston has a gf??

leafsfan3416: mitch's comments😭💀

user96: they're so cute

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📂 bedsyandco works!#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📜 cam's fics #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews fic #auston matthews fanfic #auston matthews x y/n #hockey blurb #nhl blurb #hockey fic #nhl fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction

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thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

Text

Rainy Season - Part 3

Storm Warning

Azriel Eris x Reader

We’ve got a time jump and are swapping points of view for this chapter y’all.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

3 months later

Eris Vanserra hated the Summer Court. The humidity anywhere outside of the temperature regulated zones of Adriata, the way his hair clung to his forehead and caused curls to form in his otherwise immaculate hair, but most of all it was just insulting to be so bothered by the heat itself when he quite literally had fire in his veins. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

Tarquin strode alongside Eris through the open air lower levels of his keep, three of his guards and two of Eris’ own flanking them several feet behind, one could almost forget they were there if not for the “click clack” of feet echoing through the halls. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t have to try very hard to focus on the mundane talk of trade routes and port authorities instead of getting lost to the sounds of crashing waves and gulls outside.

Tarquin broached the riveting subject of tariffs on imports from the continent as the first rumble of thunder boomed in the distance. Now that - Eris enjoyed that aspect of the court. Autumn had no shortage of rain but the turbulence of storms often mirrored his own inner peril - made him feel less alone in the world. And truthfully, there was nothing like taking cover from the rain and listening to the rumble outside, watching the lightning dance across the skies as the loud cracks of thunder commanded the attention of anyone within earshot.

“Have your people felt the same effects, High Lord?” Tarquin broke Eris from yet another drift of his thoughts. He really should have brought a secretary or advisor along for this meeting.

Sparing Eris from the embarrassment of asking Tarquin to repeat his last three minutes of speech a cry broke through the hall. The battle cry of a…. Child?

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Followed by a yelp of “ow!”

Eris’ head jerked as he found himself drifting toward the action.

Turning a corner he found a woman laying on the ground, curled into a ball - a child of no more than 10 with a large jagged stick standing over her with his chest puffed out, pure smug joy on his face.

Eris looked to Tarquin who only grinned with satisfaction. Eris gaped before Tarquin quietly whispered, “just watch.”

The woman didn’t move. The child’s look of satisfaction slowly turning to that of concern as she lay there. He bent over the woman placing a hand on her shoulder, his brows knit together. “Lady L/N?”

So focused on the woman on the ground before him, the boy didn’t notice her arm slowly sneak around him and “Oof!” The kid let out a startled breath as she grabbed his ankle, ripping it out from beneath him, effectively leaving the child on his behind.

The female lept up into a crouching position. Her tanned, muscled thighs pushing her up to stand effortlessly. “And that, little ones, is why you never let your guard down with an adversary.”

Eris turned, wondering how he could have missed the group of children sitting on the other end of the room watching the scene unfold.

The boy remained on his behind, hands resting on his forehead in defeat.

“Hey-“ She reached a hand out to help him up. “You did a great job. You quite literally swept me off my feet! Nobody has done that in quite some time.” She paused, sadness twisting her features as if her own words struck her before shifting back to that of a proud instructor. “In fact - I have something for you.”

She reached into the pocket of her calf-length, flowy pants and reaching handing him a shell. “Add this to your leather strap.” She tapped a leather bracelet on his wrist, one shell already strung on it. “You did great, kid.” The boy gave her a genuine smile as he returned to the rest of his classmates.

Eris shifted involuntarily. How much had he wished for someone to say those words to him when he was a child?

Tarquin chuckled “An excellent motivator. Shells. Who knew?”

Eris gave a small smile - brief but genuine before adjusting back into his usual mask. The instructor turned to face them and cauldron damn him if she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. Radiant skin that came from plenty of time in the sun, silky hair that practically begged to have fingers run through it, a soft and curvy yet toned build. A body that told him she indulged herself in what she enjoyed but was active enough to define her plush features, likely blessed with great genetics - lithe yet perfectly squeezable in all his favorite places.

“High Lord.” Her voice carried to him like an ocean breeze. She bowed her head in a respectful greeting, long lashes fluttering. “How may I be of service?”

“Lady L/N,” Tarquin beamed. “It’s a pleasure to introduce you to Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

Her brow puzzled for a brief moment before bowing her head again. “It’s an honor to meet you, High Lord.”

“A pleasure to meet you as well, lady.” Eris replied sincerely, meeting her bright eyes. “I didn’t realize Tarquin was hoarding such beauty within his keep.”

“We have many treasures in our court, High Lord. She is one of our brightest.”

Rather than blushing, the female held her head high, giving a polite “Thank you, High Lord.”

“We must be getting to lunch now. Have a pleasant rest of your class, Lady L/N.” He turned to the children with a stern look “And children, behave for her.” following the reminder with a smile and cheeky wink.

—————

It was hours later that Eris was released from meetings for the day. Unfortunately, there was still more to be discussed that would have to wait for tomorrow. Making the way to his guest suite, Eris found himself wondering about the instructor from earlier. Something about her felt vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.

After changing out of his stuffy clothes into something more befitting of the climate, Eris paced his room. He’d forgotten how much longer daylight lasted here than in his own court, with several hours remaining before dusk. He supposed he could brave the heat and take a stroll through the palace grounds, preferably without his entourage of guards.

Relieving the pair from their duties, Eris wandered through the gardens and toward a small grove of trees on the other side of the palace grounds. He could hear running water from a garden tributary that likely connected into the river that emptied into Adriata’s harbor.

Sauntering through the grove, he was pleased to find reprieve from the heat, the cool air wafting off of the stream and shade from the trees turning the grove into a private oasis. It wasn’t particularly trekked through. “Finally.” he thought to himself. A moment of peace.

Situating himself on an iron bench, Eris looked up, only to find that through a thicket of cattails, Lady L/N was standing on a rock upstream, eyes closed and balancing on one leg. Given her steady, intentional breathing he supposed she was meditating. It was odd - seeing her like this - strangely intimate to see someone in such an isolated state of catharsis, unaware of his own presence before her. The sun rays shone through cracks in the leaves, shrouding her in tiny fragments of light that made her tanned skin near golden. Her hair was wind blown from the breeze winding through the grove off the ocean, and she’d changed into a thin cotton sundress. Gods, maybe the Summer Court wasn’t so bad after all. The way it effortlessly flowed over her body perfectly accentuating her ample curves, and those tanned, toned legs - yeah, he should probably leave.

After momentary internal warring he began to stand but before he could sneak off, she gasped. Clutching her arms to her rib cage. “MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed. Vulgar words coming from such a pretty mouth.

What an interesting method of meditation.

She took several breaths before resuming her position. Another minute went by when she audibly growled. “Bastard!!” She clutched herself again, keeling over. Finally she sat down on the rock, the hem of her dress soaking in the stream’s rippling water, and pressed her head into her hands. Eris thought she was crying.

He really should leave but - memories of his mother crying over the years flashed into his mind. All the years that she only had he or Lucien to console her, kindered spirits brought together by Beron’s casual cruelty. His other brothers being the emotionally void carbon copies of their father they were, paid no mind to their mother’s plight.

Yet still, he didn’t know her. She didn’t know him. She likely didn’t want him bothering her.

Against his better judgement, he found himself drawn in by her familiarity and approached. As he drew closer, he realized her sobs were not sobs at all. She was muttering the raunchiest, most vile slew of curses that he’d ever heard. Lucien would enjoy this female.

As he approached, she jerked her head up. The lovely, collected face from earlier twisted into one of contempt. He wondered if she knew that, that face was, well, adorable like a fierce little kitten. Although, something told him to tread carefully. She may look adorable but he’d bet good coin that her bite matched that of a lions.

“What do you want?” She spat.

Eris only smirked. “And here I thought you were a lady.”

Baiting her. Genius idea, Eris.

“Only within the palace.”

“You’re still on palace grounds.” Shrugging with the statement, Eris put his hands in his pockets - damn these Summer Court linens really were comfortable.

“Well, I was alone until you intruded.” she murmured, not meeting his eyes.

“Did you win Tarquin’s good graces with such manners?”

Her expression filled with ire as she looked up at him. “Did you take your throne by being such a prick?”

Eris couldn’t help but laugh at her bravado. This female either REALLY didn’t like him or truly didn’t care about consequences. “Ah, so you do know who I am.”

“You’re a High Lord. Of course I know-“

Her words cut off as she clutched her ribs again, tighter this time. A shudder escaping her. This time the pain seemed to last longer. And this time he could have sworn her voice cracked as she swore.

“Hey” Eris stepped into the creek, not bothering to step out of his sandals. Before he could hesitate he crouched down before her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

The thing was, he recognized that pain well. It has been centuries but damn he remembered it so clearly.

“Breathe through it. Think of something that makes you smile.”

She clutched herself harder, shaking her head. “Think of the look on your student’s face when you gave him that shell today.”

She breathed in deeply this time instead of letting out another curse.

“Good. Hold for three beats.”

“Now let the breath out.”

She breathed out. “In again.” He instructed. She followed suit. “Now out.”

As her breath steadied, she met his eyes - momentarily soft, a little broken, before ire crossed them again.

“For fucks sake, High Lord.” She spat. “I came here to meditate. I know how to breathe.”

She sure as shit seemed to have forgotten how to for a moment there, but he kept that to himself.

He only let out a soft laugh.

“There she is.”

She scowled in return.

“So, Lady L/N” he began, standing and extending a hand to help her up.

“Y/N.” She interjected, taking his hand. “Call me Y/N.”

Y/N. Fitting, he thought. The kind of name a tropical storm would be given.

Wait. Y/N L/N. Oh, he knew exactly why she was so familiar now. No wonder she’d given him that puzzled look in the palace. And, if Eris recalled correctly, his brother actually was rather fond of her - in a friendly and platonic sort of way. Though in his tales of the Night Court he’d certainly never mentioned the fact that she looked like a gods damned deity.

He led her out of the creek, not quite ready to drop her delicate hand. “So, Y/N, tell me about this idiot mate that let the Summer Court’s brightest treasure go.”

She gaped, jaw dropping into a look of genuine shock. “How-“

“I had one too. I believe you know her.”

—————

Eris and Y/N spent hours talking in the grove. He gave her all the details of his mate, Morrigan. How it killed him to leave her that fated day. Had he touched her, his mate, Beron would have claimed her as Autumn Court property requiring a Blood Duel for the Night Court to retrieve her. Though, Beron would have ensured she never left unharmed. That aside, Eris didn’t want that blood on her hands, the blood of a blood duel or any battles over her. He didn’t want it on his hands either. It killed him to feel her pain down the bond starting from their forced engagement and through the torture her father had inflicted upon her, and the trauma that lingered thereafter. The gut-wrenching, immobilizing pain that only a mate could feel shooting through to them.

He never wanted her to feel that pain. If it hurt him that badly to only feel it down the bond, he couldn’t imagine the strife she’d felt. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, to tell her everything he couldn’t risk saying. He was too young to face the ramifications from his father and he had his mother and Lucien to protect in those days. So he protected her in the only way he knew how to at the time. Through cold, calculated indifference. He still regretted it.

As time went on, the mask he wore became heavier and heavier, burying that bond deeper within himself. It took him until after the war with Hybern to finally lay it all out to her. Y/N never knew any of that part of the story. She knew Mor and Eris had made amends but nothing of their bond, and she knew that Mor was happily committed to Emerie, an Illyrian female now. He was happy for his mate, as happy as a rejected mate could be.

Eris never claimed to have been in the right. In fact, what he did to Mor was wrong. The way he spoke to her as if she was no more than a common whore when facing her in front of his father at the High Lord’s meeting. Yes, it was an act but it was never okay. He’d live with that for the rest of his days. His apologies to her since never felt like enough.

Y/N empathized with Eris. He could see that she was torn but her gaze toward him softened although, never into that of pity. He liked that about her.

She shared the story of her mating bond with Azriel. And how the waves of anger and grief down the bond had increased in strength recently as she had continued healing. She laughed bitterly at the typical trajectory of females in her situation getting better over time while unfaithful males seemed to spiral as it went on. She didn’t say who he had cheated on her with but Eris had his suspicions. The Shadowsinger apparently had a thing for Vanserra mates. She laughed and cried over the hours they talked. They’d eventually ended up back in a palace seating area for a drink.

Eris hadn’t been so open with someone like this in so long that it felt foreign. Hell, opening up always felt unnatural for him. Perhaps he was stupid for sharing with her. After all, mating bonds could make people do crazy things. She could always take Azriel back and share the details of his little sob stories with the Night Court.

She’d occasionally let out a sharp breath as small jolts of emotion came rolling in. It was nearing dusk when she finally huffed, slapping her hands on her thighs saying, “Enough! This tea is weak. I need something stronger.” Pouring them each a glass of brandy, and another, and another.

As the conversation shifted from the heavier topics to lighter ones, Eris let it slip that he wasn’t fond of the summer court and found all of the sand and humidity to be unpleasant at best.

Her inhibitions were down and if Eris were being honest with himself, his were too. He hadn’t drank much since becoming a High Lord though he often felt the need for a stiff drink. No, there was too much work to be done and he was still getting his own inner circle acclimated. Trust was harder to give in the Autumn Court, especially after being under his father’s rule for so long. There were plenty of good people in the castle but just as many were corrupted under Beron’s rule. Weeding them out was consuming more of his time than anticipated.

Somehow, after their fourth drink, Y/N dragged him out onto the beach, determined to show him all the merits of the crusty, sand-infested shores.

Admittedly, her joy was contagious but he was going to make her work for any positive reaction.

“Okay!” She eagerly squealed. “First - sand castles! Have you ever built one?”

“I live in a castle.” Eris feigned boredom, inspecting his nails. “It seems unnecessary to build one out of… that.” his nose scrunched up, lip curling into a sneer as he gestured to the sand surrounding them.

“Ughhh.” Her eyes rolled back into her head as her little sun dress blew in the wind. And damn if he wouldn’t love to see her eyes going back into her head like that in other circumstances.

He was a gentlemale but a male nevertheless.

“Being High Lord doesn’t mean you have to be such a bore, but fine… No sand castles. Maybe next time!”

Next time. He liked the thought of that. My how far she’d come from practically snarling at him just this morning.

“Look!” She squealed, bringing her hands to her chest and clapping with excitement. “Dolphins! Now I know you don’t have those in the Autumn Court, Eris Vanserra.”

Fuck, his name sounded so good coming off of her lips.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her enthusiasm and then at the dolphins. They swam so peacefully in a pod through the harbor. One even let a young water wraith trail alongside it as a hand carefully gripped onto its dorsal fin as the creature pulled her along.

“The wraiths and dolphins coexist well together.” Y/N mused wistfully. “There’s a common misconception that they are territorial due to food supply but they have plenty in the harbor.”

She smiled softly. “The younger wraiths tend to bond with them and the dolphins have even been known to protect them from certain dangers.”

As the pair continued walking along the shore, the conversation occasionally faltered as Y/N would stare off distantly, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

His heart ached for her. From what he’d gathered during their talk, she’d left the Shadowsinger, but the heart is slow to heal after losing a mate in any capacity.

Eris nudged her with his shoulder. “Hey little minx, where’d you go?”

Coming back to reality she halted. “Oh! Oh my gods. The sun is setting and you have to come with me! Hurry.”

She grabbed his wrist and he didn’t hesitate to follow along as she all but dragged him down the beach. “Hurry! We’ll miss them!”

They ran until reaching a secluded inlet of the bay. They climbed up a small rocky ledge where she sat, dangling her feet over the edge. “There’s an underwater cave-“ she breathed heavy, catching her breath. “here, beneath us and every night-“ another pause to breathe. “something magical happens as the sun sets.”

Eris, catching his own breath, waited patiently for more details but she only dropped a small pebble into the water and as she did, a rainbow of luminescent fish rippled to life below the surface. There had to be thousands of them, leisurely swimming out of the cave as if they were just waking up. Shades of bright pink, green, blue, orange, and purple lit up the small inlet. Eris was awestruck, so awestruck in fact that he didn’t hesitate planting his ass next to her on the crusty sand-coated ledge.

With a wave of her wrist she pulled a bottle of rum out from the pocket realm, tugging the cork out with her teeth and taking a swig, then handing it over to him.

They sat in silence as the remaining fish left the inlet and the remaining colors of the sunset disappeared into night. Clouds began rolling in as they drank and began chatting again. Much like that morning, thunder rolled in but this time he was disappointed to hear it. He didn’t want the evening to end, wasn’t ready to let her go quite yet.

He wished he’d had a warning before the ocean winds blew this wild, beautiful storm into his life that morning. Something to brace himself against the inevitable fallout of the precarious situation he found himself in. It was a storm he was prepared to ride out and he had a feeling it would be worth whatever debris she’d leave him with.

The base of the distant thunder rumbling, the cymbal-like crash of waves on the shore, and singing of the creatures of summer nights blended together into a beautiful melody that flowed through Eris. Quickly he stood, extending a hand to her. “Dance with me, Y/N?”

She froze, that distant look crossing her eyes again for a second. He braced himself for her decline but the life returned to her eyes as a smile graced her full lips. She accepted his hand and didn’t hesitate as he tucked her into his chest, her warmth and scent lulling him into a state of bliss.

No, Eris Vanserra did not hate the Summer Court at all.

————————

This was a long one and I know it wasn’t from our girls POV but I hope you all enjoyed it 🥹 Stay tuned for more! Her story is not done yet.

Tags:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #eris x reader #summer court #tarquin #eris vanserra #eris x oc #eris vandaddy #inspired by Hunter Hayes #storm warning Hunter Hayes

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fangirl-dot-com · 2 months

Text

Across Every Universe - Part 2

Well, I didn't expect this work to get this long. It was only supposed to be short but then I worked on it all day and for multiple hours on end?? I guess I just enjoy this concept so much! These are basically the stories I wanted to put in last time, but they needed their own chapter to truly shine.

I know people asked for Arthur and reader romance, but To Do Is To Dare has always been a racing fic first and romance second. I tried to add in all the people I could without going crazy with the plot line or it would have gotten out of hand (or more than it already is). There is a lot of Max and Charles (my two favorite boys on the grid).

If anyone has anything against Lestappen - there's the door :)

Please enjoy :)

Earth 33891

“Please stand for his Majesty King Max Emilian Verstappen, King of the Netherlands and Prince of Orange.”

Max always hated these announcements. Like, why did they have to always say his middle name and all the titles that came with it? He put on a gentle smile and waved to the crowds around him. Thankfully, his dressers had decided to forgo the kingly robes and opted for a nice suit with his pins. Definitely fitting for the Dutch Grand Prix.

This would be his ninth to attend since taking the throne at 18-years-old after his father passed away. The kind always enjoyed seeing the Orange Army at the home race.

After greeting everyone, he was led to the special box. Apparently, more than one royal had decided to attend as well. Max’s shoulders loosened when his eyes landed on a familiar figure.

“Charles!”

Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc, The Sovereign Prince of the Principality of Monaco. Max was always glad that his mother only chose one middle name for him instead of three.

The prince’s green eyes widened at the sight of the Dutchman. He waved off whoever he was speaking to and all but glided across the room. The two forwent the formalities and brought each other into a hug.

Max leaned back a bit to look the Monegasque in the eye.

“What are you doing here? Monaco not enough for you?”

There was a playful glint in his eyes as Charles rolled his. The brunet gestured to a plush couch in the corner, one that Max was excited to sit in.

Charles began to speak, a small smile on his face, “Well as you know, my brother is currently dating one of the drivers on the grid. And it is her home race so Arthur wanted to come watch.”

Max nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew exactly who Charles was talking about.

Y/n L/n, the only female driver, who currently was working on her fourth World Champion.

“And where is your brother now?”

“He’s in the garage,” Charles rolled his eyes. He had wanted to go, but an ambassador had insisted that he needed to talk to the prince.

“Why don’t we head there. I always want to say hello to my race winner.”

Now, Max and Y/n had a very loving sibling relationship. The king had watched her grow up karting and made sure to sponsor her and support her through her career. Without his support, the girl would not have been able to continue. Yet, when you put the royal Dutch crest on your Formula 3 car, someone has to know that it means something.

This would be her 4th season in Red Bull, having been 19 when she joined in 2019. She was only 20 when she won her first World Championship, breaking the record for the youngest ever to dominate the sport.

Now she was 24 and is on a path to win her fourth in only five races if she keeps up the winning streak. Max was only older by 3 years, yet he watched over her like a very protective older brother.

He and Charles had made their way down to the pitlane, much to their advisors’ chagrin. They passed by the Mercedes garage to say hello to King Lewis Hamilton III and then George Russell, Duke of Sussex. The two Brits had been friends or well, colleagues, with the other two reigning monarchs for quite some time. They were currently backing Kimi Antonelli and Mick Schumacher, the current driver line up for Mercedes.

Right next to the silver garage stood a very orange and bright one. Max was excited to see Lando Norris, Duke of York also in attendance. He was very close with the two Aussie drivers, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo.

Down the line was Williams, who was attending to a very eager Logan Sargeant, the President of the United States’ kid. Max was fond of the blond and often said hello to him whenever he got the chance in diplomatic settings.

But finally, they were able to reach the big navy garage. Max could definitely pick up Arthur’s almost French accent everywhere. But, his ears were tuned to the sound of your Dutch accent that was similar to his.

“Geitje!” he called out, finding your blond hair against the navy racing suit.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing the conversation with your boyfriend. You rolled your eyes when you saw Max in his kingly splendor. You took a few steps toward the fellow Dutch and gave him a hug.

“I told you to quit calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore, or was never a goat for that matter.”

Charles took this moment to catch up with his brother.

Max looked down at you fondly. “You’ll always be that small kid whose suit was two sizes too big on her.”

You honestly wanted to cry, but you kept the tears in. There was a race that you needed to win.

“Are you going to give me my trophy this year?”

“Don’t I every year?”

You looked up in mock thought. “Well, there was that one year that you had appendicitis and your mom gave me my trophy.”

Max lightly nudged you. “That was one year, let it go.”

You grumbled. “Well I hope that someone won’t break my trophy this year.”

Your teammate, Ollie Bearman, popped his head up from where he was looking at his tyres.

“It was one year Y/n! One year!”

You giggled at the disgruntled yells from the British Driver. Ollie had been one of your favorite teammates.

Your first year, you were paired with the golden boy himself, Sebastian Vettel, before he retired with one last championship. And then your first year as world champion, you were paired with Oscar Piastri before he left for McLaren. Ollie had been your teammate for the past two years, but you had a feeling that he’d stick around for more than a year.

You got the heads up that the race would be starting soon. You turned back to Max.

“Are you staying here or do you have to go?”

Max had a mischievous glint in his eyes and was about to reply before being interrupted.

“Actually, their royal highnesses need to return to the royal box.”

Max fought the urge to roll his eyes. You only laughed and pushed him in the direction of the exit.

“Go, I’ll see you at the top.”

“Blijf veilig, alsjeblieft,” Max softly pleaded.

He really hated that you put your life on the line every weekend for the job that you loved. He remembers the first time you had a terrifying crash when you were unconscious until they got you to the hospital. He was told that you probably wouldn’t wake up. However, you defied the odds and were back in the seat for the next race.

You responded, just as gentle, “Voor jou, mijn koning, altijd.”

When Max left, he turned around one last time and witnessed you giving Arthur a quick kiss before he put your helmet on. It was something that the two of you had been doing since you started dating almost two years ago.

The Dutch king was back to walking with Charles to the box.

“So, when is he proposing.”

He hadn’t expected an answer, but was surprised when he got one.

Charles gave Max a look. “They’re actually going to a restaurant, and he plans to propose tonight.”

Max’s eyes widened at the confession. But, he got over it quickly before gently smiling. You deserved happiness, and you found that in his closest friend’s brother.

“So will she have to stop racing for royal duties?” the blond questioned.

Charles shook his head. “Non. Arthur will step down.”

Max clapped him on the back. “Guess you and Alexandra need to start with some heirs huh?”

Charles squinted up at him. “Says the man who currently needs to propose as well.”

The prince got the last laugh as he left Max stuttering for a comeback.

You won the race like Max knew you would. The king watched as you held your head up high as the Dutch National Anthem played loudly through the crowds. He saw the crowds of orange, the only ones rivaling the red Tifosi at Monza.

The crowds were shouting, “De Langverwachte! Onze kleine leeuw!”

The Long Awaited.

Their Little Lion.

Max had always wished for a champion from his home country. Something to ode back to the sport he loved as a kid. His wish came true in the form of you. People talked as the king publicly backed the only female driver on the grid. But he knew that you were something special. He was there as you took the championship from Vettel in the last lap of the 2020 season fair and square. Obviously he was thankful that there was no safety car to ruin your race of any kind. You had coped brilliantly against your older teammate and your talent truly showed.

Max was given the signal to head out with the hand painted trophy. He was honestly kind of scared to drop it. But he made it across the stage and handed it out to you.

You proudly took the trophy from Max after you bowed in respect. He may have been your friend, but he was your king first.

The ceramic trophy was held high once it was safely in your hands. Jokingly you hugged it tight as you gently stepped down off the podium. Ollie gawked at your childishness before spraying you with the champagne.

With trophy set down a nice ways away, you took your own bottle. Except, instead of spraying Ollie, you pointed it at Max, whose jaw was on the floor as you came after him with the liquid.

If you were having fun now, you wouldn’t expect what was coming later that night.

And you said yes.

Earth 12399

“Zusje!”

Your eyes widened at the familiar squeaky and young voice. You turned your whole body away from your race engineer to only be taken down in the knees. Once you were on the floor, you laps was immediately filled with a small body that had bleach blond hair and bright blue eyes.

“Maxy, Ik heb je gemist Kleintje!”

“Uh Y/n, is everything good?” Charles’s voice sounded from above. You stared back at your teammate in the red overalls. You grabbed under the child’s arms and hoisted him up along with yourself.

“Yep! Charles meet Max. Max meet Charlie.”

Max’s small eyes widened before he tucked himself in your neck. Your hand came up and rubbed his back as you cooed. You turned back to Charles.

“He’s a bit shy in front of his favorite driver.”

You poked Max’s side and his giggles filled the room. The small one turned his head and peered at the Monegasque whose eyes were wide, looking at the child in his teammate’s arms.

“Didn’t know you had a kid.”

Your jaw dropped at his statement.

“He’s not my kid, idiot. He’s my brother,” you hissed, lightly bouncing Max up and down as you swayed side to side.

“Oooohhhh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah oh. I’m younger than you.”

“One night stand?”

“Charles!”

The brunet laughed loudly, making Max giggle a bit with him. You looked down into his blue eyes.

“Oh so you think that’s funny hm? I’m getting bullied.”

Max only giggled more before pointing at Charles.

“Rari?”

You lovingly stared at him in your arms. “Yep, Rari.” You saw how Charles was staring at Max. “You want to hold him?”

Charles dropped everything (only his water bottle) and reached out to take Max. Once he was in Charles’s arms, Max immediately rested his head on his shoulder and gripped the red suit. You smiled fondly at the two.

“He’s so small,” Charles whispered after seeing the kid’s eyes close in slumber.

You ruffled the spiky blond hair. “Yeah, he’s only 3 though. Full of wonder.”

“Y/n!”

Ah, there was your mother. You looked over and saw Sophie walking with your other sister Victoria. Thankfully, your dad was nowhere to be found. After you found out what he had done to Max, you put in a restraining order against him immediately.

It was a hard discussion with your mom when you told her that she needed to divorce him. Tears were shed and hearts were broken. But, you never wanted to see another bruise on your younger brother again.

It was fine if he did that to you. But to Max?

Jos wouldn’t stand a chance against your anger. He had shaped you to be like him.

A racer. A winner. The best.

But being the best wasn’t supposed to be the most important anymore. And if he wanted you to be like him, then he’ll get his own anger thrown back into his face. You remembered how your fist met his eye after you found Max alone with him one night. An ugly purple thing covered Max’s tiny wrist and there was a scratch on his face.

You had just returned home from a triple header and wanted to surprise your family. Only, you came home to Max’s screams of terror and Jos Verstappen yelling. You didn’t think, you just did. Sophie and Victoria returned home to multiple police cars and an ambulance in front of the house. When they finally were told what happened, they found you covering Max’s body with your arms as you spoke to one of the paramedics. A blanket was draped around your shoulders and a bruise was forming on your face as well.

After that, you moved your entire family to Monaco with you. Your house was plenty bit and you only shared it with Charles whenever he came over to play FIFA. But now, whenever he wanted to play, you insisted on going to his house.

It might have been to protect your family. Or it might have had to do with a certain handsome brother that Charles had.

Definitely the first one.

Hence why Charles had never met Max beforehand. But that also didn’t stop the little gremlin from choosing Charles as his favorite driver and not his sister.

It’s not like you were bitter or anything.

You walked toward your family and gave the two women a hug.

“I’m glad that you could come today!” you told them, truly happy at their arrival. It wasn’t like it was a big race. You had already won the championship last week, which sadly they weren’t able to make it. But Max was still up past his bedtime when you got home after. The kid sleepily muttered that he was glad you won, even though you had beaten Charles. Yet, you reminded him that Charles had won the year before and it was sissy’s turn.

Sophie looked at Max in Charles’s arms. “He’s so comfortable. I honestly thought he’d be scared of men after what happened.”

Victoria nodded in agreement.

You crossed your arms. “I think that Max knows that dad wasn’t a good man. And well, he still loves Lando though.”

“Is that Max?”

Speaking of.

Max’s head jerked up from Charles’s shoulder at the familiar voice. His little head swerved in the direction of the papaya clad driver.

“Lanno!”

Max started to squirm in the captive arms. Charles quickly set him down, not wanting him to fall. Max immediately ran to the Briton, who picked him up with ease. At the sight of the two, Charles pouted.

You knocked him with your shoulder. “Don’t’ worry, you’re still his favorite. He bought Max a toy McLaren for his birthday and Max demanded that I paint it red and add a 16 on the side.”

Charles seemed to gleam with pride at the confession.

“Don’t tell Lando though. He’d be devastated.”

What Lando didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hey little man. You ready to watch the race?”

Max’s head bobbed quickly.

“Are you going to watch Lanno win?”

At that, Max shook his head making Lando’s eyes widened.

“Little Verstappen I am hurt.” Lando clutched his hand to his heart in mock hurt. Max only stared at him while the McLaren driver put on a bit of a show.

Charles piped up from beside you. “Max, is Charlie going to win?”

Max, once again, shook his head. Now that made you confused, because Max always cheered for Charles. You cocked your head as you looked at your brother.

“Then who Maxy?”

The boy shyly pointed at you before muttering, “Zusje gaat jullie allemaal verslaan.”

Not that made you laugh out loud, causing even more confusion to the two male drivers. You covered your mouth as you continued to laugh. Sophie and Victoria laughing as well.

You smirked at your rival and teammate.

“He said I’m going to kick your asses.”

Max gasped as he heard your words.

“Bad words!”

Max pouted as he was put down by Lando. His little legs ran to you and his arms stretched out wanting you to pick him up. You squatted and scooped him up. Your arms tightened around him as he tried his best to hug you.

“Sorry for the bad words kid.”

“’S ok,” he slurred, getting even more tired. It was definitely his nap time. And it was time to get in your car. You handed him back to Sophie, who gave you a kiss on your head as you stooped. You gave a quick hug to Victoria before going back to kiss Max’s head.

“I’ll win for you ok?”

Obviously, he couldn’t hear you, but you would say it anyway. You turned away from your family to get ready.

“Going soft on me L/n?” Lando quipped, making his way out of your garage.

You discreetly flipped him off, to which he laughed at as he left. It took about 30 minutes to get in the car and get everything ready. You swerved your head, making sure the helmet was tight. Your eyes flitted about the garage and caught sight of your family again. Max was now wide awake and waving at you.

Your gloved hand reached out and displayed your fingers wide. The little boy reached over in his mom’s arms and clapped your hand with his small one. You were given the signal that it was time and drove off once Sophie was out of the way.

Her and Max watched as you rounded the corner in your red Ferrari, out of sight.

Sophie leaned down and kissed her youngest’s head.

“Mijn baby, zal zus winnen?”

Max’s small voice was just loud enough for her to hear.

“Ja mama, sij is kampioen.”

Earth 9596

(btw - I made the max pic because no one has good edits of him in a ferrari suit)

“Scuderia Ferrari Signs Y/n L/n for the 2024 Season”

“Ferrari Mistake? The Formula 1 Team Signs the Youngest Driver to Date”

“Ferrari Becomes the First Formula 1 Team to Sign Female Driver”

“Former F1 Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Backs Goddaughter as Her Race Engineer”

“How Will Verstappen React to His Younger Teammate on the Track?”

You hadn’t known what to expect when you arrived at the paddock first thing on Saturday morning. You had convinced Lorenzo to bring you early so you could at least avoid some of the crowds, if not all. However, it seemed like everyone else liked that plan as well, and the paddock was full.

You hung back near Enzo as the two of you walked side by side. Your hands gripped your backpack straps hard, turning your knuckles almost stark white. Thankfully, your sunglasses kept your wide and scared eyes from the public. It wasn’t that you were scared of people. It’s what you thought that they thought about you that made you nervous.

Just 17 and baby faced.

Something that wasn’t heard of in 2024. Yet, with older drivers retiring back and forth, the FIA had to make new changes to deal with the need of rookie drivers. Hence why Lorenzo pushed to have Ferrari sign you as early as possible. You basically went from karting, to Formula 2 and didn’t even start your second season.

It came as a shock when Lewis Hamilton finally retired after only one year at Ferrari. You had thought that he’d want to get one more championship to make it to 9. But, life throws curveballs and it was headed straight to you.

Now you had to face your new teammate, a champion himself, Max Verstappen. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that he was talking to Charles Leclerc and Fernando Alonso. The two black Mercedes polos stood out in contrast to Max’s red one. You took a quick glance at the two drivers and realized that they were already watching you.

Your cheeks heated up as you quickened your steps to get to the garage faster. Once you were in the safety of the garage, you let out a deep sigh.

Lorenzo looked at you with a sad smile. He knew you were going to be overwhelmed for the entire day. He took his backpack off and reached down in, fingers feeling for your headphones. He took them out and handed them to you.

You immediately put them on, connected them to your phone, turned on the music, and got to work on your racing journal. You wanted to go over your notes before the race. While you were distracted, Enzo took a little walk, trying to find some coffee.

He ended up walking past the group of three drivers and smiled at Charles. The Italian knew of him growing up and was excited to see him in a team that gave him a good championship winning car.

He nodded his head toward your new teammate. “Max.”

Max’s eyes lightened at the familiar face. “Enzo!”

The two bro-hugged before parting, letting Enzo greet the two Merc drivers. When he was done, Max had a teasing attitude.

“Can’t convince you to stay as my engineer? Don’t get me wrong, I love GP, but you knew me better.”

Enzo smiled and shook his head. “No can do. Gotta take care of my kid.”

Fernando entered the conversation. “Where is she? We saw her walking but then she disappeared.”

The older man scratched his head. “Yeah, she tends to do that. She’s a bit nervous.”

Charles scoffed. “I’ll say. They shouldn’t have said anything until Wednesday. Sky Sports announced it way too early.”

The Monegasque had something similar happen to him when he first joined Mercedes. It had all been planned that he would take Valtteri Bottas’s seat mid-season. Yet, Sky Sports announced it before Mercedes had a chance to even say that Bottas had wanted to retire early due to an illness. The media had made Charles into a seat-stealing villain his first season.

The engineer nodded sadly. “I think she’s also nervous about the team.”

Max looked at him with a shocked expression. “The team?”

Enzo waved his hands. “She has full confidence. Y/n’s a bit nervous about trying to be on your level Max.”

Well, that didn’t settle well with the Dutchman. Great, he was excited to have such a young teammate: someone who he could get along with and help them grow in the sport. But now, you were afraid of him?

“She’s not scared of you Max, just nervous.”

Oh. He said that out loud.

Max glanced back at the garage. “Can I go talk to her.”

Enzo nodded before handing him a pen. “I forgot to give this to her, she’ll be looking for it. You don’t mind giving it to her right?”

“Not at all,” he responded, thankful for something that could break the ice between the two of you.

Max grasped the pen and made his way to the overly bright red garage. He really wished Ferrari would take a page out of Mercedes’s book and make everything black. But no, they had to show off the corsa rosso red.

You were too busy writing some notes down, with the wrong pen, to notice Max’s shoes now in your line of sight. The Dutchman lightly nudged your own shoe, which had your head jerking up to look at him.

Your eyes widened and your hands reached to pull your headphones off.

Max only smiled down at you. He thought that you looked like a scared mouse. He wondered if you were quiet like one as well.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

You could only shake your head no and scoot over as Max sat down on the concrete near you. The two of you sat in silence as you continued to scribble. Max suddenly remembered the pen in his hand.

“Here. Enzo wanted me to give this to you.”

Your fingers lightly touched his as you grabbed it from him.

To Max, you also reminded him of his sister at this age. Shy, meek, quiet. But he had seen your videos and your impressiveness on the track. Your overtakes were nothing to be overlooked. He heard you sigh as the pen now nicely glided over the pages.

The Dutchman let his eyes wander over the pages. He noticed that you were even taking notes on him as well.

You didn’t look at him, but you spoke, “If you break a bit later on turn 4, you can cut off another tenth.”

Your voice gave Max whiplash as he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him without being prompted. His mind ran as he tried to remember turn 4. When he did the calculations he was surprised to find that you were correct.

“How did you..”

“I watched your onboards from last season. You’re very, what’s the word,” you gave him a smirk, “predictable.”

Max’s jaw dropped, which caused you to laugh a bit. Max, although shocked, was glad that you were coming out of your shell a bit.

He leaned over to whisper, “Are you overwhelmed with the red as much as I am.”

You smiled as you whispered back, “It is positively draining. Why can’t they do black like Mercedes?”

Max threw his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

You pretended to think. “What if we gang up on them. They can’t resist both drivers.”

Max put on a weird accent, making his voice higher. “It’s either change the garage and everything to black or we walk.”

That made you snort which caused Max to wheeze.

Enzo was just on his way back with two coffees (both for him) when he heard the sound of you laughs mixed with Max’s. He smiled fondly at the two drivers. He took a sip before putting on his bright red headphones that he needed for qualifying. He coughed a bit, but it was soon over. Nothing like the sickness that he barely beat back in 2019. He was thankful that he got to continue to watch you grow.

Max asked, “How far do you think you’ll get in qualifying?”

You thought for a moment. “Uh, I hope to make it to Q2 if possible.”

The Dutchman lifted his hand to ruffle your hair. Your hands swatted at him as you pouted.

“I think you can get farther.”

You only shrugged. “We’ll see.”

The car was definitely your safe space. You felt as though you could finally breathe easier.

“Radio check please.”

“Loud and clear Enzo.”

“Ok, let’s get this bread.”

You shook your head as you sat in the car. “Please never say that again.”

Much to your and the team’s delight, you made it past Q1 and Q2. And you ended Q3 in the second row in P3. Max had just missed pole by mere hundredths. Charles Leclerc always had scarily good one lappers in the third session.

Max gave you a giant hug at the end of the session, very glad at your positioning.

As he had his arms around you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah. You were going to be great.”

Earth 331649

The big letters stood out to Max as his eyes began to water.

“Not Applicable for Adoption at this Time” was all the top said. He hadn’t bothered to read the rest. He knew what it was going to say. It’s what every letter said for the past few months.

They weren’t approved.

They traveled too much.

There weren’t any in their preferred age group that were adoptable right now.

They wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby.

They were…Max didn’t even want to mention the word.

He glanced at the gold band that adorned his ring finger on his left hand. The sight made his eyes water more. The paper was quickly crumpled and thrown to the side. The Dutchman leaned forward and put his hands over his face and just sobbed.

They had been trying for so long. The conversation had started two years ago as they lied in bed one night. They were nearing the ends of their careers, but they hadn’t wanted to wait until they were retired. They were sure in their marriage enough to where they both could handle a baby in their lives.

A mini them running around, playing with Jimmy and Sassy. The thought was too much to bear right now though.

The door clicked but Max hadn’t heard, he just continued to sob.

“Amore, I’m back from the shop. They had the pastries that you really liked. Amore?”

Max started sobbing harder. Before he heard knew it, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He heard a big sigh as a head rested against his back.

“Another one?”

Max didn’t even reply, but his sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles. Charles glanced over at the crumpled paper that had been tossed to the side. He’s told Max time and time again to wait until he gets home to read them, but the older was always a bit too excited or anxious to wait. He bit his tough, not wanting to say anything that could upset the Dutchman even more.

“It will be all right.”

“Will it?” Max bit back, full of sadness and anger. But, it wasn’t anger at Charles. He was angry at the world.

“It will,” Charles hummed. However, the Monegasque was also getting run down by all the rejection letters. He didn’t know how much more he could take. But, he wanted to be strong for Max. For himself. For their hopeful future child.

“Every time Charlie. Every time, it’s always a different excuse.”

“Our time will come.”

“But what if it doesn’t? We aren’t getting any younger Charles.”

The Monegasque harshly inhaled. He stopped rubbing Max’s back. Although, he really didn’t know when he started.

He went to say something, yet his phone rang loudly, breaking the silence of the room. Charles muttered something about wanting to hang up, but his breath hitched at the sight of the name at the top of his phone. His thumb had never pressed the answer button.

He quickly put the call on speaker.

“Bonjour?”

“Ah, Mr. Verstappen?”

“This is he.”

“Is your husband here with you?”

Max perked up at the question. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was now paying attention. He scooted even closer to Charles, face almost in the phone.

Charles chuckled at Max’s closeness.

“Oui, he is here.”

“Ok, so we just got a call from the Princess Grace Hospital. We think you want to come here for this.”

Max gulped before whispering. “It is what we think it is?”

Charles held his breath as he and Max waited for the answer.

“Why don’t you come find out.”

The two of them could hear the playfulness as the their adoption agent hung up the phone. They looked into each other’s eyes before they dashed around, getting their shoes on. Max almost tripped as he hopped on one foot, his shoe getting caught on his finger. Charles chuckled as he bent to tie his own shoe.

Max was halfway out the door, still waiting.

“Come on Charlie.”

“Mon amore, are you forgetting something?”

Max patted his pockets and realized he forgot the key that were now dangling on Charles’s finger.

“Oh.”

Charles rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door, grabbing Max’s waste as he walked. The Dutchman quickly followed him to the Monegasque’s Ferrari Purosangue. He bought the SUV when he and Max put in their first adoption profile.

Max huffed as he noticed that Charles was going below the speed limit.

“Baby, can you maybe, hurry up?”

Charles only hummed as a reply. He did step on the gas a bit, but the Monaco speeds were slow as it. It wasn’t their fault that they drove ridiculously fast cars and his husband was currently high strung.

Charles put his hand on Max’s thigh and started to rub small circles, which in the long run did help Max calm down a bit.

The Dutchman had calmed down some by the time they parked in front. Charles started to get out of the car, but Max’s hand grabbed his arm before he got far. Charles recognized the look of fear on his husband’s face. His pointer finger found the golden band on Max’s finger and started to rub it.

“What if- What if- What if it happens again.”

Charles’s eyes drooped a bit at the sadness in Max’s voice.

“But what if it doesn’t?”

A glimmer of hope came back to Max’s eyes as he places a chaste kiss on Charles’s lips.

“Let’s go.”

With an unbuckle of his seatbelt, Max was out the door. Charles had to catch up to Max’s larger steps. His hand soon found Max’s as they walked in. He squeezed three times, and got three in return.

Charles look the lead as they approached the front desk. The lady at the computer had a nice attitude as she gave them a smile when she looked up from her screen.

“May I help you gentlemen?”

“Ah, yes, my husband and I got a call from our adoption agent, Mitch Walker.”

The lady’s eyebrows raised as she started to type on her computer once again. Max bounced in his place, willing the lady to type faster.

“Ah, floor three, room 89.”

“Thank you,” Charles stated, already watching Max walk toward the elevator. He chuckled as he slowly followed, knowing the elevator would arrive when he got there. Inside the contraption, Max read the list of floors.

His finger traced them until he got to the third floor.

“Charlie.”

Charles looked where his finger had landed.

Delivery floor.

Before Charles could react, the elevator doors opened. They both bolted into the hallway.

86.

87.

88.

89.

They both paused in front.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Charles grabbed the nob and slowly twisted. The room was a bit dim and Mitch was standing in the middle of the room. She turned at the sound of the door and a smile made a way on her face.

“Hi guys,” she whispered. She stepped closer and pulled a curtain that cut the room in half.

“Hi,” Charles replied, also whispering.

Mitch put her hands together. “So, we have a little someone who was given up today. If everything goes well, you two might be going home with a baby today.”

Tears welled up in Max’s eyes at her words. He choked down a sob and bit his knuckle.

“I just need you two to wash your hands and then you can meet her.”

Charles whispered, “Her?”

Mitch only nodded.

This time, Charles was the one to let out a small sob. They gingerly walked over to the sink, hands bumping into each other as they rinsed under the water. Once dry, Mitch dragged the curtain back over.

In the middle of the smaller section near a couch, lied a bassinet. With bated breath, Charles and Max peered over. Tears now welling in both their eyes. Max’s finger gently moved towards the baby’s face.

He lightly grazed the soft cheek, causing the baby to squirm. Max had never jerked his hand away from something faster. Charles let out a small and quiet laugh. The baby’s hand was open, inviting Charles to put his finger in the tiny palm.

The baby suddenly curled her fingers around the one finger, eyes suddenly opening. The Dutchman wanted to cry once again. Her green eyes peered up at him. Max’s eyes caught a tuft of hair and he gently pulled back the tiny hat. Blond hair appeared in a small bit. He gently pulled the hat back into place.

His blond hair.

Charles’s green eyes.

Charles turned to Mitch.

“Can I hold her.”

A single nod had Charles scooping the baby in his arms, and he placed her on his chest. His body leaned back just a bit to accommodate her. Max immediately took his phone out and took a picture. He was definitely going to use that as his lock screen picture from now on.

Max watched as Charles sat on the small couch in the corner. Max followed suit and sat next to him.

The baby was looking right at him.

“Hello little one,” he whispered, finding the courage to graze her face once again. A small smile appeared on the girl’s face, but it was short lived. But, Max had seen it and he was happy that it was directed at him.

“-ax, Amore.”

His eyes shot up to Charles’s face.

“Yes?”

The brunet rolled his eyes. “I asked: Do you want to hold her?”

Max could only nod. Charles gently handed her over to his husband and watched as his big hands cradled the baby. One hand was gently placed on her bum and the other on her head. He cooed at the man and baby, seeing tears stream down his face.

Mitch quietly approached the couple. “So, it seems like everything is going well. I can almost read your minds and I got your application approved. It’ll take a while for everything to come in but you are good to take her home.”

Charles stood and gave her a giant hug: big enough for the both of them. She patted Charles’s back before grinning widely again.

“You know, she doesn’t have a name yet.”

Max’s head whipped from the baby to the woman.

“We get to name her?” he questioned, heart filling with so much love. There were so many names that he and Charles had picked out. The first name would be something special, something not used before. The middle names would be in honor of loved ones past and present. And then, the baby would take both last names.

Mitch came over with a certificate and pen in hand.

“Do you two know or do you need a moment?”

Max nodded at Charles and then looked back down at the beautiful green eyes that stared up with him.

Charles did the honors.

“Her name is Y/n Julia Sophie Pascale Antoinette Leclerc-Verstappen.”

Little Y/n. Oh how the world wasn’t ready. But it would welcome her with open arms.

Earth 959589

“Shit!” you yelled, tumbling out of bed. You were late, oh you were so late. Max was going to kill you and you could say goodbye to your seat.

Before the season even started.

You tripped as you pulled on a shoe, face planting back into the bed. Your phone was currently blowing up with notifications as it rested on the side table. You hastily pulled on your Red Bull polo and grabbed your jeans. Your foot got stuck since you put your shoes on first.

Great move Y/n, great move.

You finally got a hand on your phone and answered the call.

“Where are you? Max is close to having an aneurism,” your race engineer hissed through the phone.

“I know Charles, but my alarm never went off!”

Your head was pressing your phone to your shoulder as you talked and walked toward the elevator.

“Just please get here ASAP,” he sighed. You could see the man rubbing his eyebrows, even if you couldn’t see him.

“I’m getting in the car now.”

“You better be thankful. I’ll see you here.”

When you arrived to the paddock, you went directly to the interviews, which you were late for as well. You winced as you walked in front of everyone and sat down, face ablaze in red.

Lando poked your side. At least he went with the polo so you two could be matching some. He leaned over when a question was directed to Arthur.

“Max is going to kill you.” He smirked as he leaned away. Your microphone accidentally picked up the smack to his shoulder. Some eyes landed on you as you tried to duck away.

Arthur looked over at you. “Nice of you to join us champ.”

You shrugged. “My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Sure.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse you?”

Before you could get any farther, a journalist asked a question directed toward you.

“Y/n, if I may, how is this season a bit different than last?”

Your eyes looked up as you thought of a good answer. “Uh, well, there was a lot of change within Red Bull this past winter break. My old teammate went to being my team principal. And then he somehow convinced Charles to join as well and be my race engineer.”

A scoff came from Arthur that cause you to lean to look at him.

“Are you all right Leclerc?”

The Monegasque rolled his eyes.

“I would like to have my brother back please.”

“Well, too bad I got him first. And then back to my question. Lando became my teammate and he’s giving me a run for my money.”

Lando smirked at that statement.

“Ah yes, the cheeky little bugger he is. But, I’m really on track for my second championship. Maybe next year I’ll let Lando get one.”

The journalist thanked you for your good answer.

Fortunately the press conference ended after that. Yet, it was unfortunate for you since you could feel Max’s glare from miles away. You stopped, causing Arthur to bump into your back.

“Any chance I can come hide in your driver’s room?”

Arthur shook his head yes, giving you some hope.

“No.”

You visibly deflated as you watched him walk toward the bright red garage.

A sigh left your lips as you stalked toward the garage. Charles gave you a sympathetic look as you walked past. His hand rubbed your shoulder until he gently pushed you toward Max. You winced under the Dutchman’s glare.

“My office Y/n.”

You could only follow him into the office. You took the first seat you passed in front of the large desk. Max rubbed his eyebrows and sighed. But, you panicked.

“I’m so sorry Max. I swore I turned on my alarms last night, but I was up late going over data again because I can’t let the team down again like last race. I know that I can make up the speed. And then my phone was on silent and then I tripped on my shoe and the car got stuck in traffic. I swear I went straight to the conference. I won’t be late again I promise, just please don’t take away my seat.”

Max watched in horror as you lost your composure right in front of him. This monologue only told him that you were truly scared that he’d kick you off the team because of a little DNF last race. His heart dropped as he saw tears stream down your face as you visibly shook.

He stood up quickly and rounded the desk. His hands dropped on your shoulders.

“Kid, kid. Listen to me. You’re not going to lose your seat. I was just worried when you didn’t show up and when you didn’t answer mine or Charles’s calls.”

“Oh.”

Max wanted to laugh. “Yes, oh. Do you remember all the times I used to show up late? The times that Charles showed up late as well?”

You let out a chuckle as you remembered both Ferrari drivers would show up a bit late. No one ever seemed to mind. You let out a sigh of relief.

Max stood up and walked toward the door. “Now, let’s go out there and what do we do?”

“Kick names and take ass!”

Max rolled his eyes. “Sure kid. Sure.”

Earth 1218 - Present Earth

You gasped as you sat up in your bed.

“Kid?” Max questioned, head popping up from the couch. Vegas had been super early again and you and Max didn’t want to go back to the hotel when you had FP2 soon. So, the two of you just curled up in his driver’s room. His voice was groggy as he had just gotten up from an interrupted nap as well.

You clutched your head and groaned.

“I had such weird dreams.”

“Oh. Tell me?” Max’s head was already back down on his pillow.

“You were a king, and then you were my younger brother?”

Max snorted but let you continue. He knew that you wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway.

“And then you were my teammate at Ferrari and Charles drove for Mercedes, Enzo was there. Oh, and then you and Charles were married.”

“Kid you have been watching too many Lestappen edits on Twitter and TikTok.”

You only grumbled.

“I do not. Finally you were my team principal.”

“Strange. Go back to sleep.”

Max never got an answer back, because you were already zonked. He chucked and turned back over, phone clenched in his hand as he watched the edit of Charles’s 2022 sunset lap into his 2023 pre-storm qualification. However, he didn’t know that his volume was so loud.

“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain…And I could see it all in my mind…”

“I KNEW IT! YOU WATCH THEM TOO!”

“GO TO SLEEP!”

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