#and i am looking forward to how it goes from here

[in1-nutshell]

Fearless is still crying about Alabaster and Megs finds out. cut to the scavengers freaking the fuck out because holy shit Megatron is about to bust down their door and all because their newest member catfished his kid.

Finally!

Definitely going to be doing a long version of this in the future

Hope you enjoy!

Fearless and Alabaster

SFW, Platonic, Angst, Hinted romance, Human reader

MTMTE

There had been a noticeable change on the Lost Light.

It was the behavior of the ship’s resident human, Fearless.

Ever since their no show to trivia night, and the sudden sick day they took after, they had been… quiet.

Their demeanor reminded the original crew members how they acted the first few days on the ship.

More composed, stiffer, more neutrality in their tone, more… robotic.

Magnus: “I do believe that concludes today’s meeting.” Fearless wordlessly starts packing up their things. Rodimus: “Hey Fearless, there’s karaoke night over at Swerve’s. You wanna team up for tonight’s duo performance?” Fearless: “I’m afraid I cannot tonight, Captain. There are too many reports to fill in after Whirl’s last escape from the brig. Have a good night.” Fearless tries to leave the room before Megatron stands in their way. Fearless: “Megatron, is there something you need?” Megatron: “I need assistance in getting the classes grades in the system.” Fearless: “Just send the work to my mail and I will get to it. Good night.” Fearless wordlessly goes around the mech and makes their way to their habsuite. Rodimus: “Nothing?” Magnus: “Anything? Megatron sighs: “Nothing.”

The human barely interacted with the bots and always headed back to their room as soon as they finished their tasks for the day.

The only other bot on board who had the slightest idea what was going on was Whirl.

But even he refused to say much.

Mainly because all he knew was that he needed to pummel someone who made Fearless sob up a storm and he didn’t even have a name!

Whenever he wasn’t in the brig, Whirl became a bodyguard of sorts.

Always watching Fearless surroundings for any sign that the bot who did this was on board.

Megatron had tried to talk to them, but even that left fruitless.

Megatron is sitting next to Fearless in the empty classroom. Megatron: “There is something you are not telling me.” Fearless stays silent. Megatron: “… I will not force you to talk, you can come to me when you are ready… but remember the crew, that I am here to listen when you wish to speak.” Fearless’s eyes gloss a bit, but they bite their tongue and leave the grey mech alone. Megatron looks at his child sadly but decides to trust what Rung had advised him to do. Don’t force it, let them come to you.

Megatron didn’t like seeing his kid like this.

Even Rung tried coaxing Fearless into having a private session to figure out what was going on.

And to many surprises, Fearless denied it.

The human was always advocating for the bots to go see Rung and went to him too.

But to suddenly not want to go?

This was bad.

It would be a month into this state when the Lost Light would get an unexpected visit from the WAP.

Maybe the visit of the Scavenger’s would cheer them up.

There were two things that the crew noticed immediately.

1. The scavengers had a new crewmate

2. They looked tense, especially the new crewmate.

Fearless arrives with Megatron and Magnus. Rodimus was already talking with the Scavengers. Rodimus looks over at the three. Rodimus: “Magnus, Megatron, Fearless, you remember the Scavengers, right? Well, they have a new member!” The bot steps forward stiffly and greets the bots. Alabaster: “My designation is Alabaster Lapis.” Fearless just looked at him with a surprised look. Fearless: “…Nice to meet you.” The bots detected a bit of hostility in the human. Rodimus: “How about we head to Swerve’s for some drinks? I think he has a new variety of mixes.” Megatron glances questionably at Fearless who looks ahead, not making contact with anyone.

Everyone dispersed once they got to the bar.

Many of the crew were surprised to see Fearless out and about for the first time in a month.

That comment caught Alabaster’s attention feeling the guilt rack up.

Alabaster saw a shooing motion from Misfire and Spinister before he reached the bar where Fearless was sitting.

He ordered a drink and sat beside them in silence.

They both knew they were delaying the inevitable… but maybe this could work in their favor

It was very awkward between the pair.

Fearless asked if his crew new about it.

Alabaster blinked before stating that they heard the conversation… and thoroughly beat him over the helm with his stupid mistakes.

Fearless chuckled a bit after hearing that Grimlock had swung his tail and had him dented on the side of the ship.

His spark fluttered a bit.

It had been a while since he heard their laughter.

This was a win.

Fearless looked around and asked him to grab them, they knew a place on the ship that would give them privacy.

They made their way to the oil reservoir.

That’s where Fearless mask dropped.

They looked at him with a mixture or sadness, frustration, anger, and something else. Fearless: “I thought we agreed in 3 more days. Or is there something else your not telling me about?” Alabaster: “We recently had repairs on an organic planet. They boosted our thruster systems.” Fearless: “And you didn’t think on telling me because…” Alabaster sighed and sat on the edge of the platform, his pedes dangling above the oil below. Alabaster: “I… I didn’t think it was important. We were already meeting each other; it was only 3 days. Those pass by in a blink of an optic.” Fearless huffs standing beside him but with an ample amount of space in between them. Fearless: “In case you forgot, time means something different to ‘organics’. If you need a reality check, we die much earlier than Cybertronians.” Alabaster: “…I know…” Fearless winces a bit at his defeated tone. Maybe they crossed a line. Fearless sits down on the edge, mimicking his stance. Fearless: “…Well… here we are…” Alabaster: “Here we are…” Silence… Fearless: “Why did you keep it on for so long?” Alabaster: “… I didn’t want to lose you.” Fearless: "would it matter if you did?” Alabaster looks at them with a serious expression. Alabaster: “Most defiantly.” He sighs softening his gaze. Alabaster: “I care about you, a lot. More than I want to admit it really. If there was a chance that you hated Cybertronian’s…” Fearless places a hand on one of his digits. Alabaster looks at them a bit surprised. Fearless smiles a bit. Fearless: “I’d be a pretty crummy friend if I did.” Alabaster: “So…” Fearless: “Well, the whole lying and the technical ‘catfishing’ is going to leave a mark.” Alabaster winces a bit at the sharpness in their voice. Fearless: “…But I don’t mind trying this friendship thing all over again.” Alabaster smiles a bit. Fearless stands up and offers him their hand. Fearless: “I’m Fearless.” Alabaster gently shakes their hand. Alabaster: “My name is Alabaster Lapis. You can call me Alabaster or Aster for short.” Fearless and Alabaster smile at each other.

The pair eventually made it back to Swerve’s where everyone else was.

The Scavengers were relieved to see the two in much better spirits and it was safe to assume that the two had talked it out.

The lost light crew looked over that the new mech who had Fearless perched on his shoulder.

It had been a month since Fearless had smiled that widely.

They looked almost like their usual self, a bit tired and drained but much better looking than last time.

Fearless made sure to give the Scavenger’s all goodbyes when they had to leave.

Fearless waves at the WAP as it leaves. Fearless sighs and looks behind them. Everyone is looking at them. Fearless: “Uhhh…” Whirl: “What did that bot do to you?” Fearless: “What?” Whirl: “I just got out of the brig to see you and that other guy smiling. You haven’t done that in weeks.” Megatron: “What whirl means to say is that we are all happy to see that you have moved from your depressive state… but we are curious to what happened.” Fearless looked at the direction of the WAP. They were safe enough. Fearless: “Okay… but you all have to SWEAR not to do ANYTHING drastic or harmful.” The bots look around confused. Fearless: “All right, here goes…” Hopefully things did not go off the rails… Oh, who were they kidding, this was the Lost Light, going off the rails happened every other day. On the WAP... Alabaster suddenly shudders. Alabaster: “I feel like I’m in danger…”

alabaster feeling the rage of the Lost Light thousand miles away

[kenobers]

anyway, here’s a preview of the next jason + sionis!reader fic | 18+

tw; reader’s an asshole maybe? a girl failure, perhaps?

"I said, 'are you sober'. You look sober. Are you?"

Jason Todd blinks, like he still doesn't quite understand the question. He straightens his posture, jostling the untouched pint of something between his middle finger and thumb.

"I-yeah, I am. Are you?"

You cross your arms, roll your eyes again and ignore the question. Obviously, you're sober.

"Do you know who I am?"

He looks you over thoughtfully. His gaze conveniently lingers on the pop of your hip and the cleavage peeking out of your ruby neckline. Exactly where you want it. You snicker; so maybe he's a little slow, but at least he doesn't seem to be blind.

"You're Sionis' kid, aren't you? It's been a hot minute," Jason leans forward a little, magically more invested in the conversation. The ginger man standing next to him pauses his attempts to woo a brunette to raise an eyebrow at you.

"My dad hates you."

He scoffs, taking a half hearted sip of his beer.

"And bears shit in the woods, what else is new?"

You don't remember him having that stupid white streak in his too-well-tousled hair. It was sexy. You hated it.

"Fuck me."

IPA dribbles down his idiotically strong chin. His mouth goes a little slack as he blinks once again, harder and longer this time.

"What?"

Ugh, again with the repetition.

"Fuck me. Have sex with me," you reiterate as nonchalantly as if you're asking him to move over.

The redhead next to him starts cackling. Jason glowers at him, shoving the drink into his hand with one arm while pulling you closer with the other. It only takes him a gentle tug to pull your chest to broad chest. He leans down so his lips brush against your ear.

"Hey, you sure you're sober?"

The warmth of his breath in contrast with his mouth, still cool from his glass, sends a shiver down your spine.

"I'm dead sober."

"Okay, you see how I might doubt that given you just walked up to me and asked me to have sex with you."

You push him away and it's like pushing into a brick wall. A very muscular brick wall. "Look, Wayne-"

"Todd."

"Whatever. Even if I wanted to drink, I couldn't because my father drained my entire bank account."

Jason tilts his head, causing a lock of white hair to fall across his crooked nose. 

"And why'd he do that?"

You hum amiably, curling your pretty maroon nails around his thick forearm. 

"I'll tell you if you fuck me," you promise, batting your eyelashes as you place your other hand over his heart. Much to your frustration, his heartbeat is slow and steady. His sharp face has lost its earlier shock. He looks at ease, pleasantly entertained, with a slight smirk and a cocked slitted eyebrow. 

"I think that's called extortion, baby girl."

"It's only extortion if I'm threatening you," you snap back. You should know, your father's an expert in it. You take a small breath, smoothing out your tone again, "I'm just keeping my business to myself. So, I'd call this more of a quid pro quo."

"It's a quid pro quo if I'm getting something substantial out of it," he says this but at the same time, two large hands are sliding over your hips with a featherlight touch. His nails briefly press into your skin. 

Something in your belly tightens. Maybe he’s a more worthy opponent than you’d initially assumed. 

You tip your head up as you stand on your tiptoes and sneak your much smaller hands under his jacket, brushing up his warm sides. He sucks in a sharp breath. 

"If you really had no desire to fuck me, this conversation would've ended by now,” your voice is dripping in something venomously sweet. “And I'm not going to claim I have any idea of what's happening in your own business, but if I had to take a wild guess as to who in this room has the most to gain from fucking Roman Sionis' daughter, you'd be at the top of the list. Even if it's just for the bragging rights."

"You're worth more than just bragging rights, princess,” he says, rolling a fold of your dress between his fingers with a condescending shake of his head. You wonder if he can feel the heat radiating from underneath. 

"Prove it."

"...and you're sure you're sober?"

"Wanna test my breath?"

He snorts at your bad line, but his index and thumb are already caging your chin between them. He considers you for one more moment, then kisses you.

You can taste the single sip of beer, but it’s not as strong as the fading taste of a cigarette. His lips move against yours with intent, as if seeking out a falter in your sobriety. Their search comes up empty, leaving behind nothing but a thin string of spit and the overwhelming desire for more of him.

"What's your plan then? Risk it in a bathroom stall?"

You loath how utterly girlish the grin on your lips is.

"Nah, I know a spot upstairs."

[lover-of-mine]

what are your thoughts on nde for either eddie or buck in 8x08? me personally, im thinking buck is gonna get the nde, and i think he’s gonna be shot. tim recreating s4/5 when he originally wanted to do buddie, but what im thinking, is buck realizes his feelings for eddie but doesn’t want to/doesn’t know if he should tell him, then he gets shot and it’s all dramatic and eddie is there and freaking out, trying to save him and keep him alive (aka why they’re pushing medic eddie so much this season) and buck realizes this might be his last chance so he just goes for it anyway and while he’s bleeding out he tells eddie he loves him😭 i know this is probably not what’s gonna happen but lol i just enjoy theories and i always love to hear what you think!

adding onto this, i ALSO saw around twitter the theory that buck would get a nde, but he gets hit by a car or just in a car accident in general, and eddie is there and it parallels shannon’s death (obviously buck doesn’t die but you get the memo😆)

Hi, darling! Okay, I don't mean to shit on anyone's specs, but I think either of them getting shot again would be so uninspired. The show is slowly reintroducing new ways to pull the triggers they put down for buddie because they need to address the stuff that happened to them somehow, but a direct mirrored parallel to the shooting wouldn't work as well as everyone seems to think it would. Partially because I think that forcing Buck to confess because he (or Eddie) is dying is yet another way to take away Buck's agency and further attach Buck to the idea he's only worthy of love when someone bleeds. But also because putting one of them in the position to be doing the saving again won't really further their storyline. Eddie watched Buck in a nde twice, the bombing and the lightning, and Buck watched Eddie in a nde twice, the well and the shooting, and I think they need a combined trigger, aka a combined nde.

I am attached to my drown Buck theory, have them off duty, crash the car, end up trapped and the car filling with water, but I also think that the trapped dads theory also works a lot here, especially if you put them both in the situation while off duty, aka without gear or backup, and you can play with a lot of elements of every nde before that and create a catalyst for them to talk and figure themselves out. I also think everyone is getting ahead of themselves, I don't think they are in the place to get that catalyst yet, and 2 episodes are not enough to get them there when we are talking about an ensemble show. I feel like people are expecting a direct callback because we got a well callback and are getting a lightning callback, but while buddie was front and center during the well callback, they actually used it to further Chim at first. It works to get the audience thinking about different aspects of their past, which in turn makes it so that when they talk about it, it will be in our minds, but it doesn't explicitly address the implications with buddie. I think the lightning callback will be a lot about reminding Buck of whatever it was that he was supposed to learn with it the first time around that they never truly explored due to the network switch and Natalia not coming back. I also think that confronting the situation where Buck almost died and possibly watching a freshly heartbroken Buck be impulsive can push Eddie to look at some stuff that would push him into action to figure himself out.

Especially if @stagefoureddiediaz ends up right and the lightning callback ends up being a truck bombing callback too since the well callback is also a subtle callback to the kids on the cliff call in 304 and could be played into different directions when it comes to what comes out from it moving forward. Buddie has a lot to talk about, but they need a reason to think about the stuff they need to talk about on their own before getting to a point where they can actually have those conversations. I think they rely too much on how well they understand each other that they fail to consider the way they can't actually read each other's minds, and figuring that part out is important before pushing them to the catalyst. And please don't get me wrong, I'm like, 90% sure that the catalyst will be another nde, I just don't think it's gonna happen until 8b.

[jimbodyson]

Already been posted before buly someone else but I was so happy I thought I'd do the same lol

ined

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"For a self-proclaimed researcher... I thought you'd know by now that Psychic-types are weak against Ghost." "Morty-ehehe! B-But I'm nohohot a type specialist!" "Maybe should've thought of that first before deciding to wake me up so early."

A spiritual successor to this lil doodle of mine 🫣💖💕

[yo9urt]

jpmd update post #6! for some reason i thought we were further than 6 by now

EVEN LONGER THAN USUAL!!!!!!! also today's post is ENTIRELY about the bidoof special episode because that is all i did today!

as always, cool observations and thoughts first:

PRONOUN TRACKER:

bidoof's mama calls him お前, he calls her 母ちゃん, his little brother calls him 兄ちゃん（あんちゃん）; bidoof's mama calls herself 私 and お母ちゃん

the camerupt npc called him あんた, marowak called him おめえ, the slakoth/slowpoke team called him きみ

jirachi (!) calls himself 僕 and calls bidoof きみ before properly waking up and learning his name (after that i believe he only calls him bidoof-さん)

not a pronoun but doesn't fit anywhere else; as mentioned in previous posts, bidoof uses あっし and でゲス which are both words i've never heard anywhere else, and he has a relatively unique voice/accent in english, so i was on the lookout for more unusual language, but...there wasn't too much...he did say "兆枚" which jisho tells me is a rare term, and when talking to the kecleons he also said "こんちは" and "すまない," the 2nd of which is essentially the same as すみません but i'd never heard it before (i think) so it was cool

ALSO not a pronoun but doesn't fit anywhere else - this was probably happening in past sessions but today in particular i noticed how many npcs use かい to ask questions (teddiursa, kangaskhan, corphish) which was kind of reassuring because the only other time i've EVER seen かい is in one singular song on my entire japanese playlist and i was almost doubting that it was a real thing lol

FUN AND SILLY DIALOGUE NOTES

the slakoth/slowpoke npc team has some funny dialogue early in the episode where they go "aren't you the guy who screws up all the time?" (textbox ends, new box starts) "yeah...us too"

marowak dojo is "ガラガラ dojo" - ガラガラ meaning (among many things) "rattle/clatter," "rough (personality/speech)," AND "almost empty/uninhabited/etc." which is kind of perfect - the clatter of bones, the rough personality of marowak, and the emptiness of the dojo...i understand why the localization team didn't bother with a stylized translation and just called it "marowak dojo" in english lol how could you capture all of those things the same way in english?

also, one thing i didn't know - if you visit marowak in this episode, he goes on a very long ramble about how the dojo has failed and it's kind of funny you showed up on the last day before he closes it, and then he gives you a reviver seed (!). also in that speech, he lengthens practically all of his vowels and says "ぜーーったい にーーーーーーー" and "だよーーーーーー！！！" a lot and sounds like an anime character lol

bidoof ends a LOT of his sentences with かね which gives him a really...like it makes him sound really unsure of himself lol poor guy

at the end, when he made his wish, he said he wanted "かわいい こうはいs" - i don't remember what he says in english here but i remember when he meets the protag team he gets teary eyed and refers to them as "juniors" and "rookies," and of course at the end of the special episode you watch your team chatting happily with each other while bidoof watches, teary-eyed again, from the side, and it was...very endearing...i do think this is something that might have gotten lost in translation because once i read かわいいこうはい i went "oh!" and knew exactly what he meant, it gives him more of a big brotherly feeling in relation to the protags, which is pretty cute when you remember he's the big bro of 2 siblings back home...almost like he missed being in that せんぱい sort of position :') it really recontextualized his relationship to the protags for me, very endearing

SPECIAL SECTION JUST FOR SNOVER/GLIGAR/BAGON

this group was FAAASCINATING to watch. they were NASTY. but of course, snover puts on a front at first, and i'll say i think the fact that japanese has specific and more strongly marked registers for (im)politeness made the big reveal much starker than in english

PRONOUNS: bagon said "俺たち" implying 俺 for himself, called bidoof お前, called snover きさま (!) before the reveal and お前 afterwards, pre-reveal he also called snover "そこのお前" lit. "you there" which made me giggle because that's what street fight NPCs say in yakuza games lol

PRONOUNS PART 2: bidoof called bagon/gligar "お前たち" in the reveal and called snover "きみ" before it; pre-reveal, snover used "僕" and lots of "でしょう"/"ません," post-reveal he switched to "俺さま"/"snover-さま" (omfg), he also started calling bidoof お前 (see above - super formal language vs. super...not...)

OTHER BITS: snover used assertive sentence ender さ, gligar used ぜ (very masculine and a bit rough/forceful/sneaky), snover used "ねえ" instead of ない which adds even more colloquiality, all 3 of them interchangingly used "な" and "ろ" command forms, both of which can be (and in this case, were) impolite. (this was very well timed because i JUST studied command forms this morning!)

BONUS OTHER BITS: gligar taught me a couple new words: "やがる," which is attached to a verb to show that the speaker has disdain/contempt/hatred for what someone else is doing, and "このやろう," which is rude to the point of being listed as "you bastard/son of a bitch" in jisho. also, ALL THREE OF THEM used くそ, and interestingly, くそ was always written in hiragana and always followed by a small つ pause, which was in katakana. weird!

i was genuinely surprised by how nasty their language was, even worse (way worse) than team skull (at least so far). but it was pretty effective writing! nasty fellas!

general notes: this was easily the best play session ive had so far, like, bar none. maybe its because i studied a lot yesterday and i had some residual smartness or maybe ive just made a lot of real progress but today i felt like i was FLYING through most of the sentences, and concepts/constructs i was mildly-to-moderately familiar with suddenly became so much easier to get!!! and the best part is that i've only played sky once, so unlike the rest of the game, i DON'T have hard-coded memories of the special episodes and their associated dialogue; all i had to go on here was what i remember from playing the game like 3ish years ago + the synopsis on bulbapedia (i was checking to see how long it is because i was getting tired lol). so, i'm REALLY PROUD OF MYSELF for basically wading into (young) native-level material that i'm only kinda familiar with and understanding it so well!!!!!! today was great!!!! i've never felt so 日本語上手!!!!!!!!! ^_^

GOOD SENTENCES (realistically i should put like 75% of the episode here, but i can't, so just some of the best instead)

(all translations are freehanded by me since i don't remember the real english dialogue lol)

90+% of the conversation between chatot and bidoof at the beginning of the episode. seriously i barely looked at the dictionary at all during this part and i could tell what they were saying and what the feeling was WHEEEE i'm so happy

"プクリンのギルドをそつぎょうできりゃあんたりっぱなたんけんかになれるよ" (said by camerupt to bidoof) = "if you can graduate from wigglytuff's guild, you can become a magnificent explorer" (lit. "wigglytuff's guild OBJ graduation DO-POTENTIAL-CONDITIONAL you magnificent exploration TARGET become-POTENTIAL-NONPAST NEW"

"じつはあっしってなにをやるにしても。。。どうもどんくさいようで。。。いつもギルドでしっぱいばかりしてるんでゲス" (said by bidoof to himself at the shop) = "really, no matter what i try/do, i always seem stupid/clumsy...at the guild, i do nothing but fail..." (lit. "reality TOPIC i QUOTE what OBJ do TARGET do-EVEN-IF...awfully stupid/clumsy likeness COPULA-CONN...always guild LOC failure nothing-but do-EXIST-IN-STATE EXPLANATORY (COPULA)")

^ proud of myself for understanding the sentence structure here, i think my particle-understanding and structure recognition are both improving by leaps and bounds

"いつかこんなひがくるかとおもってね。。。まえからすこしずつためてたんだよ。なにかこまったことがあったらつかっておくれ" (said by bidoof mom to him when giving him $) = "i figured this day would come eventually...i've been saving up money bit by bit for a long time. if you get into trouble, use it, okay?" (lit. "someday (when QUESTION) this-kind-of day SBJ come-NONPAST QUESTION QUOTE think-CONN SHARED...before since a-little-bit piece-by-piece save-up-EXIST-IN-STATE-PAST EXPLANATORY (COPULA) NEW. something (what QUESTION) trouble (troubled thing) SUBJECT exist-CONDITIONAL use-CONN-???)

^ i thought the "おくれ" on the end was from regular old "おく" but...maybe it's not...? maybe it's an irregular conjugation? i don't know...

"あっしはきがよわいからああいうやからとはあまりかかわりたくないでゲスよ。。" (said by bidoof to himself watching bagon/gligar pretend to harass snover) = "since i'm so timid, i really don't want to get involved with that group..." (lit. "i TOPIC ki SUBJECT weak since (distant)that-kind-of say-NONPAST group QUOTE TOPIC excess get-involved-with-WANT-NEGATIVE COPULA NEW...")

^ i'm endlessly fascinated by all the collocations of 気. i know it's usually translated as spirit, energy, mind, etc. but lately i've been experimenting with thinking of it as just the original chinese qi/chi concept (at least i assume that's what it is.....erm) and taking the collocations literally and it works surprisingly well - in this case "since my qi is weak..."

"いちりゅうのたんけんかになるというあっしのゆめもかなえてくれるかもしれないんでゲス！" (said by bidoof to himself while chatot tells him about star cave) = "maybe even my dream of becoming a first-rate explorer can be granted!" (lit. "first-rate CLASS exploration QUESTION TARGET become-NONPAST QUOTE say-NONPAST i POSSESSIVE dream EVEN grant-CONN-give-down-NONPAST QUESTION EVEN(?) know-POTENTIAL-NEG EXPLANATORY (COPULA)!"

^ how many particles do we need man???????

"ただ。。。あのばでちからまかせにうばうとさわぎになる。" (said by snover to bidoof in the cave) = "but...if we went full power and took it by force out there...there would've been an uproar." (lit. "but...that place LOC using-all-one's-strength ADV take-by-force-NONPAST CONDITIONAL uproar TARGET become-NONPAST")

^ i think i'm getting better at recognizing what と is doing in any given sentence, which is great because i hate how many functions it has, and my grasp of conditionals is getting stronger too! i kind of appreciate how japanese does it similarly to english (vs. spanish) - but that's a topic for another post

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[kuromi-hoemie]

lmaoo not me on vacation missing my manager 😩 she's a real cup of sunshine omg.. i can Feel when we haven't had our one on one in a sec bc I'll miss talking to her and won't be as energetic bc i haven't had my fill for the week ૮ – ﻌ–ა ♡⁠ we work in different offices but it's really really nice getting to see each other in person sometimes too bc she's so so pretty and rly fun and sweet and gives incredible hugs 😔💕🥰

we always end up hanging out n talking way longer than we need to, last time she was like omg yeah let me hurry up n finish so u can do ur thing and i was like listen.. i am never rushing u i love having ur company u are always welcome to stay as long as u want i can just work right here ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა take ur time ♡⁠

[akkivee]

mtr has my favourite brand of codependency (husbands with their new doctor bf who def cannot survive without each other lmao) but all the divisions have their own versions of codependency and I Like That tbh lol

[crest-of-gautier]

pq posting before i go to bed! a shorter session (3 hours) but it was nice and i'm happy to say that i finished you in wonderland!

THIS WAS SO FUNNY... honestly i don't think i give enough credit to akihiko and mitsuru's dynamic they're literally so good i really enjoy how well they know each other but also they're like.. a constant in each other's life and i do enjoy their interactions a lot even if i never vocalize it...

wow yosuke, who would've thought that you two are partners, this guy literally introduced himself as your wife /s (i kinda regret naming souji yosuke wifey but im glad i wrote the y in lowercase bc otherwise i wouldn't be able to tell their dialogue apart 💀

and finally, yosuke <3

some more elaborate thoughts (aka speculation) under the cut because i learned my lesson from last time

ok unfortunately i can't say that im going to go AS INSANE as i did last time when i was spitballing in the tags for the second pq posting just because i feel like i aired out most of my "AAAA WHO IS ZEN AND REI??" there but.

i do have to say that i'm very glad i'm at the point where p3 and p4's casts are able to interact! i can't tell if it's because the writing feels like it shines a little bit better here rather than the solo casts (sometimes i roll my eyes at how junpei and akihiko are with some of the traits the writers play up), or if it's because i'm a guy who's very endeared by crossovers and interactions from characters who didn't exist in the original source material.

i had a lot of times where i was writing things down in my notes software during the crossover segments and im just?? really endeared and creatively inspired by it, to be honest. i really like this aspect of pq.

i think something that catches my interest with zen and rei at the moment is the difference in how they're.. regaining their memories. like... it's interesting to me that zen is able to get some of his memories back from the stuffed rabbit marked with "niko," but rei doesn't. i don't really know how much i can speculate off of this atm (i feel like this is something i'd get more info on when i progress through the second labyrinth, or it's something i'm missing out on because i can't use intertextuality to piece things together. i dont know shit about alice in wonderland.)

like it does make me think that maybe these two are like.. separate entities in that respect (rather than a shared one? but i could be wrong, and i welcome that!). but also there's something that makes my brain go "AAA" about how adamant zen is about wanting to protect rei despite not having any memories, because my brains like "WELL WHAT IF ZEN'S TRUE IDENTITIES AND MEMORIES ARE ACTUALLY THE OPPOSITE, AND DON'T WANT GOOD THINGS FOR REI." poorly phrased but like, it's about the irony, y'know.

i have no fucking clue what rei is supposed to be if we're going under the notion that they're two different things that have lost their memory (she is so head empty only food and its precious tbh). but like my brain just thinks that zen is just... going to end up being some awful incarnation or something like idk. there's something about persona characters with amnesia that make me raise my eyebrow... like just look at ryoji and marie and teddie...

and i guess as another thought on the matter, the way zen and rei work mechanically speaking does make me ponder a bit because like.. obviously, yeah, they can't equip a subpersona because they're... GESTURES. not persona users but FUCK, the way zen and rei have very distinct skillsets just make me wonder if those can allude to what they symbolize. like zen's skills are much more.. destructive and im just like (AIGIS VOICE) "YOU ARE DANGEROUS."

anyways. i am very much invested in the identities of zen and rei but i am also glad that the crossover stuff is here too because i think the sillies will keep me inspired... and also im just happy to see yosuke... i really like yosuke even if i forget that i do a lot of the time..

last thought, after seeing souji talk and move, i think i'd definitely want to look into p4 side... because um. 🥴 i'm really simple guy. i need more minato in my life. (everyone rolls their eyes. i'm predictable!) i want to see minato move and talk. i want to think about him. he's my boyfriend. he's my wife. he's my universe. im being so cringe about him but I DONT THINK THIS IS A SURPRISE TO ANYONE... i like him a lot (NO SHIT, LIZZ). but!!! idk if this'll be something that i watch or play, it depends on what the NG+ functionality in this game is like...

anyway gn!! thanks for reading my delusions im very much enjoying this game and im happy to be playin git.

[autopsytableromance]

Oh god 6 days till grandparents ………….

[pucksandpower]

Baby Girl Norris

Lando Norris x pediatrician!Reader

Summary: you know what you have to do — track down a world-famous Formula 1 driver, tell him about his newborn daughter, and maybe, if he’s willing, help him navigate single fatherhood — falling in love with their little family was not part of the plan … but doing so changes all your lives for the better

You take a deep breath as you enter the nursery, steeling yourself for the task ahead. As a pediatrician at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco, you’ve cared for thousands of babies over the years. But this case is different.

Baby Girl Norris, born just two hours ago, is now legally parentless after her mother signed away all parental rights. Hospital protocol demands you track down and notify the father before assuming guardianship. Easier said than done when the father is Formula 1 superstar Lando Norris.

Approaching the clear bassinet, you gaze down at the sleeping newborn. Wispy dark hair peeks out from under her pink cap. Ten tiny fingers curled into fists. She has no idea how complicated her life is about to become.

You flip through the chart again, verifying the details. Mother is French, here on a student visa. Refused to even look at the baby after a 27-hour labor, immediately signing away rights. Father listed as one Lando Norris of the United Kingdom.

You sigh, picking up the phone to dial the number listed. It rings five times before disconnecting. You try the landline for his Monaco residence with the same result. Probably outdated.

Time for plan B. You search the McLaren Racing website until you find a generic service line. Heart pounding, you dial.

“McLaren Technology Centre, this is Marie speaking.”

You take a breath. “Hello, I apologize for the strange request, but I need to reach Lando Norris as soon as possible. It’s … it’s regarding a private family matter.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Norris does not accept unsolicited communications. Have a nice-”

“Wait!” You interject. “Please, I am calling from Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. We have a newborn baby girl here, and we believe Mr. Norris may be the father.”

Marie hesitates. “Hold please, I’ll transfer you.”

Your pulse quickens. This may actually work! But your hopes are quickly dashed.

“This is Andrew from McLaren Racing public relations. May I ask who I’m speaking with?” His tone is suspicious.

You explain again about the baby, her mother, and the situation.

Andrew sighs loudly. “I’m sure you understand we get calls like this constantly. Lando isn’t even in the hemisphere right now. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”

“No, wait, please!” But the line goes dead.

You frown, gears turning. The team must think you’re some obsessed fan or scammer. You’ll have to get creative.

Over the next two days, you call every related number you can find. Each time you’re met with more resistance. They must have flagged your information as a nuisance caller.

On the third day, you’re signing charts at the nurse’s station when a colleague walks by. “Did you hear? Lando Norris is coming to take a tour of the hospital next week. Some charity thing.”

Your eyes widen. This is it — your chance to intercept him in person!

You spend the next few days obsessing over what to say, how to convince him. Baby Girl Norris needs her father.

The big day arrives. Heart hammering, you lurk near the lobby, peering around the hallway corner as Lando walks in flanked by handlers. He looks exhausted but flashes his winning smile at the staff welcoming him.

You watch them start down the opposite hallway for the tour when you make your move. Rushing forward, you plant yourself firmly in his path.

“Mr. Norris! Sorry, I need just a minute of your time, it’s urgent-”

A member of his team immediately swoops in, pushing you back. “Ma’am, please. We kindly ask that you step aside.”

“No, wait!” You raise your voice over them. “Mr. Norris, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a pediatrician here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now regarding your newborn daughter!”

The team looks exasperated, but Lando holds up a hand. “It’s okay, let her speak.” His eyes bore into yours warily.

You take a breath. “I know this sounds insane. But a baby girl was born here last week to a French student named Celeste Dubois. On the birth certificate, she named you as the father before signing away parental rights.”

You continue explaining the situation rapidly, watching Lando’s eyes widen in shock.

One of his handlers steps in. “You honestly expect us to believe this wild story? We’re on a timeline.” He tries to tug Lando along.

“No, it’s okay.” Lando stands firm, studying you intently. “What proof do you have of any of this?”

You hold his gaze. “I can show you the birth certificate, but a DNA test would confirm if you’re the father. It’s hospital policy to notify and provide the father an opportunity to assume custody.”

Lando chews his lip nervously. His team murmurs among themselves.

After a long pause, he speaks. “Even if this is some scam or mix-up, that poor child deserves to have answers. Please, lead the way for a test.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, you turn and lead Lando to the lab. His team protests but he insists on following through.

In the lab, you supervise as the technician takes a simple cheek swab. “24 to 48 hours for results,” she confirms.

Lando nods, looking dazed. “Right. Okay. If she’s really mine, I want to step up. Just call me, yeah?” He extends his number on a slip of paper.

You smile and promise to be in touch. As he turns to leave, you feel swarmed with emotions. One major hurdle down, but nothing certain yet.

The next 48 hours pass at a snail’s pace. When the lab calls, your fingers shake as you unfold the results. Positive. A 99.99% match.

You pass along the news and arrange a meeting at the hospital. The press can’t know about this yet.

Approaching the secluded waiting room, you pause to observe Lando through the window. He paces nervously, running his hands through his hair again and again. His usual polished veneer is gone, replaced by a young man anxiously awaiting life-changing news. Your heart goes out to him.

Finally knocking, he whirls around as you enter. “Well? Is she really mine?”

You nod, holding out the results. He accepts them with unsteady hands.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says quietly. “This is just ... a lot.”

“I understand. It’s a complicated situation. But you’re here now.” You offer an encouraging smile.

Lando takes a deep breath. “Can I meet her?”

You lead him to the nursery viewing room. He presses against the glass, eyes scanning until they settle on bassinet D7. His brows knit together.

“That’s her?” His voice wavers slightly.

You nod. “Would you like to go inside and hold her?”

He hesitates. “I don’t want to confuse or upset her.”

You gesture reassuringly. “Newborns seek warmth and a gentle touch. She’ll appreciate the contact.”

Looking uncertain, Lando follows you into the nursery. You lift the swaddled baby, carefully transferring her into Lando’s awkward embrace. He peers down at her, his expression unreadable.

“She’s so tiny ...” he murmurs. The newborn girl yawns, eyes still shut, snuggling instinctively into his chest.

Lando’s guarded facade finally cracks, eyes glistening. He adjusts his arms to cradle her more securely.

“Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your ...” He trails off, not quite able to say it.

You touch his shoulder gently. “You’re her father. And she needs you.”

He nods, never breaking his gaze from the newborn’s face. “I’ll do right by her, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

Relief sweeps over you. While an arduous legal process awaits, this sweet child will finally have a real family.

As Lando rocks the baby gently, he suddenly laughs. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she? Look at that hair. Thick and curly, just like her old man.”

You chuckle. “It appears so. Have you thought about a name?”

He hums contemplatively. “I’ve always been partial to Georgia. Gigi for short.”

“Georgia Norris,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

The new father beams down at his daughter. “Welcome to the world, little Gigi. I can’t wait to take you home.”

As you observe this tender moment, your heart swells for both father and daughter. With someone as loving and dedicated as Lando by her side, Gigi’s future looks bright indeed.

Watching them meet for the first time — seeing a family begin to blossom out of hardship and uncertainty — is the greatest reward of your job. As you quietly slip out to give them space, you can’t hold back a smile. Everything, after all, is turning out exactly as it should.

***

After spending over an hour bonding with his newborn daughter in the nursery, Lando reluctantly hands her back to the nurse for feeding time. He turns to you, smiling but still looking dazed.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. Really. You’ve given me and Gigi a new start.”

You touch his arm warmly. “Of course. I’m so glad I could help connect you two. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

Lando grins proudly. “She really is perfect. I already love her so much, it’s mad. I just ...” His face falls slightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to actually take care of a baby. Let alone with my job, traveling all the time for races and training. What have I gotten myself into?”

He runs an anxious hand through his curls. Your heart goes out to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You gesture for him to follow you out to the waiting room for privacy.

Lando collapses onto the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, I’m just now fully realizing what this means. A baby, she’s completely dependent on me! I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m barely an adult myself!”

You sit beside him. “Lando, look at me.” He lifts his head reluctantly. You offer an encouraging smile.

“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you stepped up when Gigi needed you most. That’s what matters. With some guidance, you’ll be an amazing father.”

He doesn’t look convinced. You continue gently, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you all the essential information for first-time parents. I’ll even set you up with parenting classes, and we have a support group-”

Lando groans loudly, letting his head fall back. You suppress a chuckle.

“Okay, forget classes for now. Just focus on learning the basics. Things like feeding, changing, bathing. Infant CPR. I’ll give you my cell to text with questions anytime. Day or night.”

You jot down your number and hand it to him. He nods, looking slightly encouraged.

“We’ll also get you connected with services that can assist first-time parents with supplies, nutrition consultants, and childcare options.”

His eyes widen again. “God, I haven’t even told my family yet! Or bought anything she’ll need!” He scrubs at his face anxiously.

You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Setbacks are expected. But you’ll get there.”

Lando takes a deep breath, regaining some composure. “You’re right. Sorry for the meltdown. I really appreciate you talking me down.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t at all anxious about this huge life change.”

You smile warmly. “But you accepted your daughter unconditionally when it mattered most. Not every man in your position would do that. I know you’ll figure the rest out over time. It’s a process.”

He nods, starting to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take it step by step.”

You spend the next hour walking Lando through all the basics — safe sleep, feeding schedules, hygiene, developmental milestones, and pediatrician visits. He takes vigorous notes on his phone, determination returning to his face.

“Clothes, blankets, nappies, bottles ...” He mumbles to himself as he types. “Maybe pick up a parenting book or two as well ...”

You grin, happy to see him growing more at ease and optimistic. When the nurse returns with a sleeping Gigi, Lando immediately takes her back into his arms.

“We’ve got this, little one,” he whispers to her. “I’ll give you the absolute best in life … starting with a nice new flat for us here in Monaco.” He looks back at you questioningly.

You nod in approval. “Giving Gigi a stable home should be your top priority.”

He smiles down at the baby, gently stroking her cheek. “Daddy will take good care of you. I promise.”

Your heart swells at the natural bond already forming between father and daughter. In this moment, any lingering doubts fade away. However difficult the road ahead, together they’ll be just fine.

After another hour visiting together, it’s time for Lando to head out. He’s clearly still anxious but also radiating love when he gazes at Gigi.

“Thank you again for everything,” he says sincerely, shaking your hand. “I’ll call my parents when I get home. Figure out how to break the news and beg for their help.”

He chuckles and you join in. “Don’t hesitate to text me anytime. About anything.”

Lando glances down at your scrawled cell number, then back up with a crooked grin. “Careful or I might take you up on the anything part.”

You blush slightly, waving him off. “Get out of here, you charmer. Go buy a crib and get some rest. Your life is about to get very busy.”

With a laugh, Lando walks backwards toward the exit, pointing finger guns at you. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. Catch you later.”

You stand shaking your head as he disappears from view. What an interesting patient case this has turned out to be.

Over the next several weeks, you and Lando text constantly. He sends cute videos and photos of Gigi along with his near-constant questions about her care. You don’t mind at all — you’re happy to guide him through this life transition.

True to his word, he quickly finds and furnishes a family-friendly luxury apartment in Monaco. He introduces Gigi to his stunned but excited parents via video call. He adjusts his training schedule to maximize time with her.

When his race travel resumes, he arranges for his parents or a local nanny to assist with Gigi full-time. Still, being apart takes an obvious toll on him.

The day before he’s set to fly to Australia for the first race of the season, Lando texts you a selfie looking forlorn, with Gigi snoozing on his chest.

Can you believe she’s already a month old? I don’t want to leave her!

You grin down at the photo. Gigi’s little rosebud lips are slightly parted as she sleeps. Lando’s staring at her adoringly despite the bags under his eyes.

I know it’s hard being away from her. But Gigi knows she has a father who loves her so much. Focus on making her proud out there!

You always know just what to say, doc. I’ll text you after the race!

You smile softly as you set down your phone. Over the past weeks, you’ve found yourself looking forward to Lando’s frequent messages and photos. He’s relieved when you reassure him he’s doing a great job as a new dad. And seeing Gigi thrive and grow under his doting care makes your heart fuller.

Professionally, your work is done now that Gigi and Lando are connected. But you can’t help feeling personally invested in this little family you helped create. You make a silent vow to always be there for them both, as long as they need you.

***

Weeks later, you’re jolted awake by your ringing cellphone. Bleary-eyed, you check the time: 2:37 am. Who could be calling at this hour?

You don’t recognize the number on your buzzing phone. But you answer anyway, just in case it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

“Y/N? Oh thank god!” The panicked voice on the other end makes you sit bolt upright.

Lando.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” Worry floods your system, instantly washing away any grogginess.

“It’s Georgia,” he cries. “She woke up crying and felt so hot. I took her temperature — it’s 39 degrees! I think she has a fever?”

You’re already throwing off your blankets, phone tucked against your shoulder. “Okay, stay calm. How is she acting otherwise?”

“She’s crying and really fussy. Won’t take her bottle. I don’t know what to do!” Lando sounds near tears himself.

“Shhh, deep breath,” you soothe. “Fever in babies this young is serious. You need to take her to emergency department right away.”

“Right, emergency, of course-” Lando rambles nervously.

“I’ll meet you there ASAP. Princess Grace Hospital, yes?”

“Yes, please hurry!” He ends the call abruptly. You scramble for clothes with adrenaline pounding.

In under ten minutes, you’re peeling out of your driveway towards the hospital. Even at this hour, Monaco’s streets remain congested. You drum your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, praying Georgia will be okay.

Once you’ve parked, you race inside the ED doors. Your eyes scan the crowded waiting room until you spot Lando pacing in the corner, Georgia whimpering against his shoulder.

You rush over. “Lando!”

He turns, relief washing over his features. “Y/N, you came. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You squeeze his arm comfortingly before looking Georgia over with practiced eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, eyelids fluttering as she whines. Definitely not well.

Lando bounces lightly, trying to soothe her. “They told me it’s at least an hour wait. She’s getting worse though.” His eyes glisten with tears.

Your protective instincts flare, seeing them both so distraught. Striding to the check-in desk, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Y/L/N. I have an infant patient here who needs immediate evaluation.”

The nurse scans the packed waiting room. “I’m so sorry doctor, we’re doing our best. If you could just wait-”

You interrupt firmly. “This is a seven week old with a spiking fever. She requires urgent triage and treatment, not a waiting room. I must insist we be seen next.”

The nurse purses her lips, but can’t really argue with your reasoning. “Of course. I’ll let the charge nurse know to get you back immediately.”

You nod curtly before returning to Lando, who looks awed. “Blimey, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

The hint of a smile on his lips relieves you. Georgia’s still fussy as you both follow a nurse back moments later.

In an exam room, you help transfer the baby from Lando’s arms to the table. Her pitiful crying tugs at your heart.

Lando hovers anxiously as you take Georgia’s vitals and change her into a hospital gown. 39.1°C — higher than the concerning range for an infant. You frown in worry. Poor little love.

Soon the attending pediatrician arrives to assess her. You explain the situation from Lando’s frantic call to racing over. The doctor asks questions while examining Georgia’s ears, throat, and reflexes. Lando clutches your hand tightly the entire time.

After what feels like an eternity, the pediatrician steps back. “Given the fever with no apparent source, I’m concerned this could be a serious bacterial infection. We’ll run labs to check for things like meningitis. Start IV antibiotics and paracetamol to bring her fever down quickly.”

Lando pales, swaying slightly at the onslaught of medical terms. You slip an arm around him supportively.

“You’re saying she might have meningitis?” Lando chokes out.

The doctor holds up his hands. “It’s just one possibility. We’re not sure yet. The labs will tell us more.”

Lando buries his face in his hands. Your heart breaks seeing his shoulders shaking.

After the doctor departs to order tests, you guide Lando to sit down, keeping an arm around him. “Hey, try to breathe. Georgia needs her daddy calm and strong right now.”

Lando drags a hand over his wet eyes. “God, I’m trying. But she’s so little and sick. What if … what if it’s something serious?” His voice breaks again.

You turn him gently to face you, hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever is going on, we will figure it out, okay? I’m right here with you both.”

He searches your face before nodding unsteadily. You draw him into a fierce hug.

“We’ve got this,” you whisper.

A nurse entering startles you apart. “Alright, time for labs.”

You both watch anxiously as she collects blood and other samples from a deeply unhappy Georgia. Her shrieking cries at the poking and prodding are harrowing. Lando has gone deathly pale.

Once finished, the nurse situates an IV line in Georgia’s tiny hand, securing it with tape and popping a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyelids droop, cries fading to soft whimpers as medication starts flowing.

You glance at Lando. “Why don’t you hold her again? Skin to skin contact will help soothe you both.”

Looking relieved by the suggestion, Lando strips off his shirt and takes Georgia, nestling her against his bare chest. You drape a blanket over them before rubbing his back comfortingly.

Georgia’s fussing settles as her father hums softly, eyes never leaving her face. The pure love between them makes your throat tighten.

Despite the uncertainty ahead, you know Georgia couldn’t be in better hands. And you silently vow to remain steadfast by their side, for whatever comes next.

Eventually Georgia drifts to sleep. The pediatrician returns shortly after with test results. “Good news. All the cultures are negative so far. With the antibiotics and paracetamol, her fever is already decreasing.”

You and Lando both sigh in relief.

“So no meningitis?” Lando asks hopefully.

The doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t appear to be. We’ll repeat testing tomorrow, but likely just a minor bacterial infection. She’ll need to stay a few days for monitoring and fluids.”

Lando clutches Georgia closer. “Anything she needs. Thank you, doctor.”

Once you’re alone again, Lando gazes down at his sleeping daughter. “I was so scared,” he admits softly.

You nod, squeezing his shoulder. “I know. But she’s getting great care now. Try and rest — it’s been a long night.”

Lando glances at the empty cot along the wall. “Stay? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone right now.” His voice sounds so small and vulnerable.

Your chest tightens. “Of course.”

You help shift Lando and Georgia onto the little bed. She stirs slightly as you both get settled on either side of her.

Lando strokes Georgia’s cheek tenderly. “My brave girl. You’re going to be just fine.” Glancing up, his eyes meet yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

You offer a tired smile, taking his hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep.”

Exhaustion quickly pulls you under. But Lando’s hand remains wrapped firmly in yours until morning.

A strong bond has formed between the three of you. And you know that whatever the future brings, you’ll be facing it together.

***

A few weeks after the scare, you’re finishing paperwork at your desk when your cell rings. Lando’s name pops up, making you smile.

Since the hospitalization, you and Lando have fallen into a routine of near daily calls and texts about Georgia. You don’t mind at all — you adore hearing the latest antics and milestones of your special little patient. Not to mention Lando’s voice tends to brighten your day.

You answer warmly. “Lando! How are my favorite patients today?”

He chuckles. “Well, Georgia just mastered holding her head up while on her tummy. She’s getting so strong! But uh, that’s actually why I’m calling ...”

You detect the hesitancy in his tone. “What’s up?”

Lando sighs. “So McLaren just sprung a mandatory sponsorship meeting on me last minute. It’s in like an hour. I don’t have any childcare lined up though.”

You frown sympathetically. The demands of Lando’s career often collide with new parenthood. “Oh no. Can you reschedule or bring Georgia with you?”

“I tried, but it’s impossible to postpone. And definitely not an ideal environment for a baby,” he laments. “I don’t have any family nearby and my usual nanny said it’s too short notice.”

Your thoughts race, heart sinking at imagining his distress. “Hmm. Well, do you happen to have any trusted neighbors or friends there who could babysit?”

Lando makes a frustrated noise. “I’ve barely met my neighbors. And my mates, well, most are even less qualified than me for childcare. I’m stuck.” Defeat colors his tone.

You bite your lip, hesitating only a moment before saying gently, “Lando, I could come watch her.”

“What? Really?” He sounds stunned. “But isn’t it your day off?”

“It’s no problem, truly,” you insist. “I don’t live far. Be there in fifteen?”

“I-I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thank you, thank you!” Lando gushes gratefully.

You smile, already grabbing your keys. “Anytime. See you soon!”

On the drive over, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You adore Georgia, of course. But something about visiting Lando’s home, being fully immersed in his world, feels monumentally intimate.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that your priority is helping a friend in need.

You park outside Lando’s sleek modern condo building and take the elevator up after checking in with the concierge. Before you can even knock, the front door swings open.

“Y/N, thank god,” Lando sighs in relief. He looks unfairly attractive despite being slightly disheveled in a dress shirt and slacks. “Please, come in.”

Stepping inside the open concept condo, your eyes sweep over minimalist furniture and racing memorabilia decorating the shelves. Cozy baby items like a playmat and bouncer provide stark contrast. It’s uniquely Lando.

“Nice place,” you remark sincerely.

“Thanks. Still feels empty sometimes, but slowly making it a home for Gigi.” He smiles softly. “Speaking of which ...”

You follow Lando down a short hallway to the nursery. Your heart melts at the sight of Georgia kicking on a playmat, wearing a pink romper with a giant bow.

Lando swoops her up, blowing raspberries on her cheek. “Daddy’s got a big important meeting, princess. But Y/N is going to play with you instead.”

He passes the baby over. Georgia gives you a gummy smile, cooing.

“There’s my sweet girl.” You tickle her belly, eliciting a giggle. Lando beams proudly.

“Alright, her bottle is prepped in the fridge, and there’s clean nappies on the change table. Call if you need anything at all.”

Lando leans down to kiss Georgia’s head. “Be good for Y/N, monkey.”

With a final grateful smile your way, he heads out. You settle on the nursery floor with Georgia. “What adventures shall we have today, miss?”

The next few hours pass in a blur of playing, feeding, changing, and rocking little Georgia. You even manage a nap time by singing softly, something that always seemed to soothe her in the hospital.

Watching her sleep, you feel a rush of tenderness for the tiny being who has depended on you since her first moments. You vow to always be there when Lando and Georgia need you.

Soon enough, Lando returns home looking drained. But his whole face lights up seeing you and Georgia on the floor.

“How’d it go?” He asks, crouching down to tickle her toes.

“Perfect. We had lots of fun, isn’t that right, lovebug?” You hand the baby over for cuddles.

“Daddy missed you.” Lando nuzzles Georgia, before giving you a grateful smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a natural with her.”

You wave off his praise, but can’t deny the warm spark his words ignite.

After chatting a bit more about Georgia’s afternoon and Lando’s meeting, it’s time for you to head out.

At the door, Lando halts you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hey, let me take you to dinner this week — a proper thank you,” he entreats. “Anywhere you like.”

Your pulse quickens. It sounds suspiciously close to a date. But Lando’s smiling hopefully, and you find yourself nodding before overthinking it.

“I’d love that.”

Lando grins, looking both relieved and excited. “Brilliant! I’ll text you details. Have a safe drive home.”

Strapping into your car, your thoughts race wildly. This man and his daughter have captured your heart. What started as a professional duty has grown into so much more.

As you drive away, Lando and Georgia waving from the window, you can’t keep the giddy smile off your face.

Your lives are intertwining in the most marvelous ways. And you can’t wait to see what adventures are in store next.

***

The following Saturday evening, you stand in front of the mirror, fussing with your hair and makeup. Glancing at the clock, you feel butterflies swarming. Lando will arrive any minute to pick you up for dinner.

You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your knee-length black dress. It’s daringly low cut for you, but you want to feel beautiful tonight.

A buzz from your phone makes you jolt. Lando is here! Taking a deep breath, you grab your purse and hurry downstairs.

Stepping outside your apartment building, you freeze in awe. Gleaming in the golden hour sunlight is a sleek dark blue vintage supercar unlike any other you’ve seen before.

The driver door opens, and Lando steps out looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. He beams. “Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush at the sincerity in his warm gaze. “Thank you. This is … quite the car!”

Lando grins, patting the hood affectionately. “She’s my baby — a Lamborghini Miura. Isn’t she a beauty?”

You take in the aerodynamic lines and what you can only assume is a very powerful engine. “Gorgeous. And probably costs more than my yearly income.”

Lando laughs. “But she’s perfect for impressing a lovely date.” He winks before opening the passenger door for you.

You carefully climb in, hyper aware of the tiny black dress riding up your thighs. Lando’s eyes trace your legs appreciatively as you smooth your skirt.

Soon you’re zipping through the seaside city, wind whipping your hair through the open windows. Lando navigates the roads expertly.

He glances your way. “Hope this is alright! Wanted to take the fun car out while the weather holds up.”

You grin at him. “Are you kidding? I feel like a movie star!”

He looks delighted, picking up speed as you both relax into the ride.

Before long, you pull up at the legendary Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. A uniformed valet opens your door. Taking the proffered hand, you step out feeling like a princess.

Lando offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Inside the opulent restaurant, you’re quickly shown to an intimate table beside a window overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea. Soft piano music fills the space.

“Lando, this is incredible,” you breathe, taking it all in.

He smiles, eyes never leaving your face. “Only the best for you.”

You blush again at his sincerity. A waiter appears to take your drink order. When you request just water, Lando insists you pick any wine on the menu.

You settle on a creamy chardonnay that pairs perfectly with your scallops and Lando’s steak. Thoughtful touches like him pulling out your chair or refilling your wine glass make the lavish meal all the more special.

The conversation flows effortlessly from racing to traveling to favourite films and music. More than once, Lando’s foot brushes yours beneath the table, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

After dessert, you both linger over coffee, hands unconsciously joined on the pristine tablecloth between you. The connection humming between you feels profound.

When Lando finally checks his watch with a reluctant sigh, you’re surprised to see you’ve been there for over three hours. It felt like mere minutes.

On the drive back, you steal glances at his sharp profile in the fading light. Joy bubbles inside you. The evening exceeded your wildest expectations.

Too soon, you’re pulling up outside your building. Lando hurries around to open your door, ever the gentleman. Clasping his hand, you step out onto the curb together.

Turning, you find him watching you closely. “I had the most wonderful time tonight,” you say sincerely.

Lando’s face breaks into a grin. “Truly magical. Thank you for coming, Y/N.” He squeezes your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles.

On impulse, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Lando.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk inside, casting a coy look back to see him touching his cheek in wonder.

Safely in your apartment, you kick off your heels, collapsing onto the sofa with a giddy smile. The evening played in your mind like a movie — the fancy car, exquisite dinner, effortless conversation. And that powerful connection with Lando blossoming into something new and tender.

What started as a professional relationship has organically grown into a deep friendship over your shared love of little Georgia. But tonight awoke a yearning for more. You sensed the same from Lando in the way he looked at you — with affection, wonder, and desire.

You drift off on the couch still reliving each vivid moment. This feels like the start of something life changing.

Meanwhile, Lando remains fixed outside your building, fingers brushing the spot your lips graced. The soft press seared an imprint deep within him.

People had warned him pursuing anything romantic with Georgia’s physician was unwise. But from the instant he saw you holding his fragile newborn girl, instinct told him you were special. That only grew each day as your compassion and devotion soothed his frightened heart.

Tonight confirmed what he felt blooming for weeks now — he’s completely enchanted by you.

With your laughter still echoing in his mind, Lando finally drives off into the night. He knows his future, wherever it leads, must have you and Georgia in it. He’s falling, fast and hard.

And for once, recklessly chasing his heart feels entirely right. He just hopes you’ll take this leap with him.

***

On a sunny afternoon, you’re sitting cross-legged on Lando’s living room rug playing with Georgia. At nearly four months old now, she’s mastered rolling over and absolutely loves tummy time.

You grin as she determinedly pushes up on her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s it, clever girl! You’ve almost got it.”

Georgia gives you a gummy smile before toppling over with a huff. Behind you, Lando chuckles from the couch where he’s on hold with a takeaway place.

“I swear she gets more stubborn every day. Definitely takes after me,” he remarks fondly.

You smile. “She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to work for it. Sound familiar?”

Lando laughs. “Too right. At this rate, she’ll be racing cars herself soon.”

You’re about to respond when the sound of the front door opening makes you both freeze. Before you can react, an accented female voice calls out excitedly.

“Lando, darling! Surprise, we’ve come to visit!”

Lando flies off the couch just as his parents round the corner. “Mum! Dad! What are you doing here?”

He embraces them both tightly while you hover awkwardly behind Georgia. What must Lando’s family think finding a strange woman playing with their grandchild?

But before you can open your mouth to explain, Lando’s mum spots you. Her face lights up. “Y/N! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!”

To your shock, she swoops down and hugs you like a long lost relative. Bewildered, you return the embrace.

Over her shoulder, Lando rubs his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I may have told them a fair bit about you and Gigi ...”

His father approaches next, politely shaking your hand. “Lando speaks very highly of you, Y/N. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy and the little one.”

“Oh, um, of course!” You manage to stammer out. Lando mentioned you to his parents? The thought makes your heart flutter wildly.

Before you can dwell on it, Georgia lets out an impatient shriek from her abandoned tummy time.

Cisca gasps, immediately scooping her up. “Oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten, baby girl!” She tickles Georgia’s belly, eliciting sweet giggles.

Lando smiles softly at the sight. You feel privileged to witness this intimate family moment.

Soon you’re all seated around the living room, chatting comfortably. Adam keeps throwing not-so-subtle winks Lando’s way whenever you and Cisca fawn over Georgia together. Lando just shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushed.

Later, his parents insist on taking you both out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Over the meal, you observe how Cisca’s animated mannerisms and Adam’s dry wit remind you so much of Lando. He clearly inherited the best of both.

Walking back to the car afterwards, Cisca links her arm through yours fondly. “I’m just thrilled Lando has you looking after him and little Georgia. It takes a very special woman to so selflessly love and support someone else’s child.”

You squeeze her arm, touched. “Well, they make it easy. I’d do anything for those two.”

Cisca pats your hand knowingly. “I can see that, dear. Don’t ever let my son take that for granted.”

Glancing ahead, you watch Lando swinging a sleepy Georgia in his arms, gazing down at her with pure adoration. Your heart clenches.

“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s the most devoted father imaginable,” you reply softly.

Cisca follows your gaze, smiling. “He is at that. Just like his own.”

Adam wraps an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Cisca leans into him with a contented sigh. Their easy intimacy and abiding love is relationship goals.

You find yourself sneaking another peek at Lando, imagining strolling arm in arm like that one day. But it’s too soon for such daydreams.

Still, meeting his wonderful parents today, seeing how he talks about you … it feels like things are shifting into place.

That night, as Lando walks you to your car, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Thank you again for today. You were brilliant with my parents — they’re absolutely smitten.”

You grin. “They’re lovely. I see where you get it from.”

Lando rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully. An impulse has you leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Lando.” With a little wave, you slip into your car before he can respond.

But the awestruck look on Lando’s face stays with you the whole drive home. Something big is on the horizon, you can feel it.

And if the way his family embraced you today is any indication, you have their full support too. You’ve never been more excited about what the future holds.

***

A few days later, you’re rushing around your apartment getting ready. Lando invited you over for dinner and a movie tonight while his parents watch Georgia. You’ve been looking forward to the rare child-free evening all week.

After debating outfit options, you decide on form fitting jeans and a silky camisole. Casual yet flirty. Dabbing on a bit of perfume, you check yourself in the mirror. You want to knock his socks off.

Precisely at six, your phone chimes with a text from Lando that he’s waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you go meet him.

As expected, he looks effortlessly handsome leaning against his flashy car grinning at you. “Well don’t you look gorgeous tonight,” he remarks, opening your door.

You smirk, settling into the low seat. “Not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Norris.”

Lando just winks before speeding off into the golden hour sunlight. You chat easily throughout the short drive about your days apart. When you mention missing Georgia, Lando smiles softly.

“Me too, constantly. But she’s in great hands with my parents tonight.” Reaching over, he gives your hand an affectionate squeeze that makes your heart race.

Soon you pull up outside Lando’s sleek condo building. He leads you upstairs, fingers entwined.

Inside, mouthwatering aromas fill the air. You follow Lando to the kitchen where pots bubble away on the stove.

“I hope you’re hungry. My dad’s recipe for chicken curry.” Lando stirs one of the pots before glancing at you shyly. “I may have been practicing all week.”

You grin, touched that he went to such effort. “It smells incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Full of surprises.” Lando winks. “Now you just relax while I finish up.”

You perch at the kitchen island while Lando works. The domesticity of it all makes your chest feel warm. You could definitely get used to this.

Soon dinner is served along with a crisp white wine. You compliment Lando between bites, making him preen. Everything is delicious.

Over dessert, your feet become entangled beneath the small table. The simmering looks passing between you leave no doubt this is a date.

With dishes cleared, Lando leads you to the living room. “Now, the entertainment portion of the evening.” He gestures grandly towards the large TV.

You settle onto the plush grey sectional while Lando queues up your chosen rom-com. Before pressing play, he pauses.

“Do you maybe want to get more comfortable?” He gestures to the blanket and abundance of throw pillows nearby.

You smile, touched at how he’s trying to create a cozy movie watching environment. “That sounds perfect.”

Working together, you both strip down to t-shirts and lounge pants, then arrange the pillows and blankets into a comfy nest. Your heart races at the intimacy of it all.

Lando opens his arms for you to curl against his chest. You sigh, breathing in his comforting scent. His steady heartbeat thrums beneath your ear as the movie starts.

About halfway through, you glance up to see Lando staring down at you tenderly, movie forgotten. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up. Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in as his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

Everything around you fades away. The only sensation is Lando’s gentle lips moving with yours, laced with warmth and affection.

When you finally break apart, faces lingering close, he exhales shakily. “Wow. That was ...”

“Perfect,” you whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. Lando nuzzles into your touch.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits with a crooked smile.

You grin. “What took you so long?”

Lando laughs, pulling you closer again. Your lips find their way back together naturally. With your legs entwined and his hand trailing up and down your back, you lose all track of time and space.

Eventually you pull back just to catch your breath, lips pleasantly swollen. Lando strokes your hair tenderly.

“Y/N, you must know by now how truly special you are to me. From the moment we met, I felt fate bringing us together. And I never want to let you go.” His eyes search yours intently.

Your pulse quickens. “Lando ...”

“What I’m trying to say is ...” He takes a deep breath. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”

Joy erupts inside you as you throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, I’d love nothing more!”

Lando’s delighted laughter vibrates against you as he squeezes you tight. You stay locked in an embrace, trading giddy kisses until sleepiness inevitably sets in.

Lando carries you to bed, tucking you both under the covers with your head pillowed on his chest. You drift off smiling, his steady heartbeat your lullaby.

Waking wrapped in Lando’s arms the next morning feels like pure bliss. He stirs, blinking awake to see you watching him fondly.

“Morning, beautiful.” Lando caresses your cheek before capturing your lips in a tender good morning kiss.

You hum contentedly. “I could get very used to this.”

“Well luckily, you’re my girlfriend now. So you’re stuck with me.” He grins playfully.

You snuggle impossibly closer. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

***

On a sunny spring morning, you’re in Lando’s kitchen pureeing some bananas for Georgia’s breakfast. At nearly one year old now, she’s mastered eating soft finger foods.

Lando wanders in with Georgia propped on his hip, her dark curls tied up in adorable pigtails. “Someone’s ready for her breakfast!”

You grin, smoothing Georgia’s hair back to kiss her chubby cheek. “Morning, my darling! Got your bananas all ready.”

Lando settles Georgia into her high chair, handing you her baby spoon shaped like a rabbit. “Not sure who’s more excited about mealtimes now, her or me,” he jokes.

You laugh. “Gotta get our girl fed so she has energy to get into everything!”

Georgia bangs her hands impatiently on the tray until you scoop up a spoonful of bananas. “Alright, here comes the Formula 1 car!”

You zoom the spoon around playfully before popping it in her mouth. Georgia squeals in delight, kicking her little feet.

Lando leans against the counter smiling as you continue taking turns feeding her. When the last bites are finished, he grabs a washcloth to wipe Georgia’s sticky face and hands.

“Who’s my big girl eating like such a pro?” He coos, tickling her belly. Georgia dissolves into adorable giggles.

Setting the washcloth down, Lando brushes a stray banana strand from her hair. “You’re the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world. Yes you are!”

Georgia beams up at him, waving her hands excitedly. Then clear as day, she exclaims “Mama!”

You freeze in shock. Did she just ...

Lando’s eyes fly to yours, equally stunned. An awkward tension instantly permeates the room.

“I-I never encouraged that, I swear,” Lando rushes to explain, panicked. “I always call you by name when I talk about you to her.”

“No no, of course, I didn’t think-” You halt, flustered. “I would never try to make her call me ...” You can’t even say it, heart pounding wildly.

A heavy silence falls. You avert your eyes, anxiously twisting the washcloth between your hands.

Lando scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she ...” He trails off helplessly.

After a long pause, Lando touches your arm gently. “Hey, look at me?”

You reluctantly meet his earnest gaze. Lando takes your hands in his, tone serious.

“Y/N, you must know how much I respect your role in Georgia’s life. We’re partners in this, fully. I would never try to force a maternal label on you.”

His obvious sincerity makes you instantly relax. Offering a small smile, you squeeze his hands.

“Of course. I didn’t think that. It just took me by surprise is all.” You take a deep breath before continuing hesitantly.

“But, well … the idea of Georgia seeing me that way doesn’t scare me. Not if it happens naturally.” You chance a glance at Lando through your lashes.

His eyes soften. “Truly?” At your shy nod, a smile spreads across his face.

“Because, well, I was thinking the same.” Lando cradles your face between his palms. “You already are a mum to her in every way that matters.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Joy and relief flood your system.

Georgia makes an impatient noise, breaking the tender spell. You both chuckle.

Lando lifts her from the chair into his arms. “Don’t worry princess, your mama isn’t going anywhere.”

Hearing those words from Lando sends your heart soaring. You join the cuddle, Georgia nestled happily between you.

“Our sweet girl,” Lando murmurs, meeting your gaze over her little head. The pure love reflected back at you erases any lingering doubts.

You place a soft kiss to Georgia’s curls, then lean up to capture Lando’s lips. The promise of your future together never felt stronger.

Many more milestones await, for Georgia and your relationship both. But you know without question that the bonds between you three will only continue growing deeper.

Of all the twists and turns on this journey, your little family is the sweetest gift of all.

***

The day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawns bright and clear. You finish braiding Georgia’s hair as she babbles happily. At 18 months old now, her vocabulary expands daily.

“There we go, pretty girl! All set to cheer on Daddy!”

Georgia grins. “Dada race!”

You smile, smoothing her dress. “That’s right, darling!”

A knock sounds right before Lando pokes his head into the nursery. “My two favorite girls about ready?”

Scooping up Georgia, you turn so he can admire her race day outfit. “Well don’t we look beautiful!” Lando tickles Georgia’s tummy before pulling you both into a hug.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to have you both here today,” he says softly.

You squeeze him tight. As a pediatrician, getting full weekends off for races proved nearly impossible. But for Monaco, you moved mountains.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assure him. Lando’s responding smile warms your heart.

The energy at the track is electric. Georgia’s eyes widen taking in all the sights and sounds. You carry her through the paddock towards the McLaren garage, Lando greeting various people along the way.

Inside, Lando steals a quick kiss. “I better go get suited up. See you after?”

You nod, adjusting a squirmy Georgia on your hip. “We’ll be cheering the loudest!”

Lando changes into his race suit, then leads you both over to his car. Georgia is mesmerized, reaching a tiny hand towards the shiny machine.

“That’s right munchkin, this is what Daddy drives!” Lando points out key features, then grabs a helmet from a crew member.

“Want to try it on?” Not waiting for an answer, Lando gently fits the helmet over Georgia’s curls. She immediately shrieks in delight.

Laughing, Lando scoops her up, zooming her around like she’s driving. “Look at you, a future champion in the making!”

You snap some photos of the adorable scene until it’s time for Lando to go off with his performance coach. After one last kiss for both of you, he disappears into the controlled pre-race chaos.

An assistant escorts you to the McLaren hospitality suite overlooking the pit lane. The view of the gleaming harbor and yachts reminds you this race is unlike anywhere else.

As start time nears, you cuddle a restless Georgia close, pointing out Lando’s car lined up on the grid. “See? There’s Daddy! He’s about to go racing.” Her little brow furrows, not quite understanding.

When the lights go out, Georgia startles at the loud roar of engines. Rubbing her back soothingly, you keep your eyes glued to the screen as the cars hurtle towards the tight first corner bottleneck.

“Come on Lando,” you murmur under your breath. He emerges from the chaos in 4th position. Off to a promising start.

Over the next 90 minutes, you fluctuate between pure elation and anxiety as the race unfolds. A collision forces Lando to pit unexpectedly. Just as your heart rate settles, another car spins right in front of him, spraying debris across the track.

But Lando holds his nerve, keeping the car under control to cross the line in P3. You leap up, cheering loudly with Georgia.

Soon Lando emerges, hair damp from the obligatory champagne shower.

His race suit is unzipped to the waist as he sweeps you both into an exuberant hug. “You did so good,” you murmur into his neck. Pulling back, Lando caresses Georgia’s head where it rests heavily on your shoulder.

“Little one tuckered herself out cheering for Daddy, hmm?” He takes her gently as she nuzzles into his chest with a yawn.

“Let’s get my best girls home.” With Georgia cradled in one arm and the other around your waist, Lando leads you out of the paddock like a proud family man. Your heart feels fit to burst.

That night after Georgia is tucked into bed, you curl up together on the couch. The TV plays highlights of the race you lived firsthand.

Lando absently strokes your hair. “You know, the lads invited me out to celebrate tonight.”

You lift your head. “Oh really? You should go have fun!”

But Lando just smiles, pulling you closer. “And miss this? Not a chance.” He kisses you tenderly. “Partying in Monaco holds nothing on being with my two favorite people.”

You kiss him again, touched. However far Lando’s career takes him, you know his heart will remain right here with you and Georgia.

***

Summer finally arrives, bringing a short respite between races for Lando. Eager to make the most of it, you suggest visiting your hometown to introduce him and Georgia to your parents.

“They’d love to finally meet you both,” you say over breakfast one morning.

Lando smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That sounds brilliant, love. I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”

You grin excitedly. “It’s nothing glamorous like Monaco. But I have so many good memories there.”

With plans made, you set off early one sunny Saturday morning, boarding a flight with Georgia securely buckled into her carrier. She babbles happily for most of the flight, enchanted by the clouds and miniature landscape passing below. Lando keeps one hand firmly clasped in yours the entire time.

Late afternoon, you finally pull up outside the cozy house you grew up in. Taking a deep breath, you unbuckle a sleepy Georgia from her seat.

“We’re here, Gigi! Ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?”

She rubs her eyes with a tiny fist, still drowsy. Lando comes around to lift her into his arms.

“Someone’s a bit tired from all the traveling, huh? Maybe a quick nap first?” He kisses Georgia’s fuzzy head as she snuggles into his shoulder.

You nod, smoothing down her rumpled sundress. Taking Lando’s free hand, you head up the front walk.

Before you can even knock, the front door swings open. Your mum stands beaming at the threshold.

“Y/N! Oh, let me see her!” She sweeps you into a tight hug before immediately cooing over a now awake Georgia. “What an absolute darling!”

You grin. “Mom, meet your granddaughter, Georgia.” Saying it out loud sends a little thrill through you.

Your mother gently strokes Georgia’s dark curls. “Look at all this beautiful hair! Those eyes are all her daddy though.” She smiles warmly at Lando.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lando says politely, shaking her extended hand.

“Oh please, call me Y/M/N! Now come in, come in!” She ushers you both inside the familiar cozy house.

Your dad appears from his office to exchange hearty handshakes and hugs. Lando looks slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic welcome.

Sensing this, you squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Why don’t I put Georgia down for her nap? You guys chat.”

Lando shoots you a grateful smile. You disappear down the hall to your childhood bedroom, now converted to a cozy nursery space. Georgia is out like a light before you’ve even finished tucking her in.

Returning to the living room, you pause in the doorway, heart swelling at the scene. Lando sits between your parents on the sofa as they animatedly show him your baby photos. His eyes shine taking it all in. This is the sense of family he’s long craved.

Eventually Georgia wakes, cranky and clingy. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent as you rub her back.

“I know, lots of new things happening today. But you’re being so brave.” Dropping a kiss to her curls, you return to the living room.

Your mother immediately reaches for Georgia, who goes willingly into her arms. “Come sit with Grandma, sweetheart.”

Settling on the couch between your parents again, Lando slips an arm around your shoulders. Georgia babbles happily from your mother’s lap.

The rest of the day passes comfortably as your parents dote on their new granddaughter. Watching your mom help Georgia toddle around the yard, your dad pushing her on the tree swing, Lando’s arm stays wrapped securely around you.

That night after Georgia is down, you find Lando out on the back porch gazing up at the stars. You join him on the steps, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Lando looks down at you with a soft smile. “More than. Today was really special.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing how your parents just immediately welcomed us into the family … it means everything. I never expected to find this.” His voice turns thick with emotion.

You lift your head to meet his sincere gaze, heart brimming over. No words needed, you convey it all in a tender kiss.

When you eventually pull apart, foreheads touching, Lando exhales shakily. “Being here with you and Gigi, it just feels so right. Like we were always meant to be a family.”

Joyful tears prick your eyes hearing him voice the same feeling living inside you. You cradle his face gently.

“We were, Lando. From that very first day in the hospital, I knew fate brought us together for a reason.”

Lando’s responding smile could outshine the moon and stars overhead. He kisses you again, soft and unhurried, arms encircling you on that familiar back porch.

***

Two years to the day after that fateful first meeting, you’re finishing rounds in the maternity ward when your supervisor requests you in her office. Brow furrowed, you make your way down the hall and knock lightly.

“Come in!”

You step inside to find her beaming behind her desk. “Y/N! Please, have a seat.”

Perplexed, you settle into the plush chair across from her. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay, I’d say.” She grins and slides an official document across the desk towards you. “Take a look at this.”

You scan the letter, eyes widening. It’s a notice of a 250,000 euro donation to the hospital’s maternity ward and nursery … made in your name.

“What? This must be a mistake, I didn’t ...” You trail off, completely baffled.

Your supervisor laughs. “Oh it’s quite real, I assure you. In fact, the donor himself insisted on being here today to celebrate.”

Before you can respond, a knock sounds. You turn to see Lando stroll in, right on cue, with a grinning Georgia perched on his hip.

“Lando!” You gasp. “Did you … is this from you?”

He smiles almost shyly, setting Georgia down so she can toddle over to you. “Wanted to do something meaningful to mark the anniversary of when we first met.”

You stand frozen in shock as Georgia crashes into your legs. Scooping her up, you turn back to Lando with tears in your eyes.

“This is too much, I … I don’t know what to say.” You glance between him and your equally emotional supervisor.

Lando moves closer, taking your hands in his. “Say you’ll come with me for a proper celebration? Just the three of us?” He brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes twinkling.

Unable to form words, you simply nod. Lando’s face lights up with that smile that still makes your heart skip.

After signing some paperwork and hugging your supervisor profusely, you allow Lando to lead you out to the car, Georgia babbling happily between you. But instead of heading home, he drives to the glittering harbor front.

There, you gasp to see a magnificent yacht floating ready at the dock. A crew in crisp white uniforms wait nearby.

Lando grins at your stunned reaction. “Told you we’re celebrating in style today!”

The staff smiles warmly as you board, cooing over Georgia toddling around excitedly. She especially loves watching the foam trail behind the yacht as it pulls away from shore.

You stand wrapped in Lando’s arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” you murmur.

Lando presses a kiss to your temple. “You deserve it all and more, my love.”

You pass a blissful afternoon on the water, enjoying a gourmet lunch and each other’s company. Lando is attentive as ever, making sure you want for nothing.

As the sun dips low, a crew member approaches. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be arriving shortly. Please follow me downstairs to prepare.”

You glance questioningly at Lando, but he just smiles and urges you to follow with Georgia. Down in your luxurious cabin, an elegant evening gown awaits on the bed alongside a tiny version for Georgia.

Your heart flutters wildly now. Lando is clearly planning something major. You help Georgia into her dress, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation.

A knock at the door announces the crew member has returned. “We’ve arrived back at port, whenever you’re ready.”

Back up top, Lando stands waiting in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. He looks devastatingly handsome.

Taking your hand, he leads you down the gangplank onto the dock where a car waits to whisk you away into the hills overlooking the sea. The sunset bathes everything in golden light.

When the car stops at a secluded lookout point, Lando helps you out then retrieves a sleepy Georgia. Hand in hand, you approach the cliff edge.

Down below, a massive light display flashes to life along the shoreline. You gasp as the glowing words become clear:

Y/N, will you marry me?

You clap a hand over your mouth, spinning to Lando with tears pooling in your eyes. He’s down on one knee, Georgia sitting next to him playing with flower petals.

“Two years ago, you came into our lives and changed everything,” Lando begins emotionally. “Your compassion and selflessness as a doctor saved my fragile new family.”

He takes a shaky breath. “But you gave me so much more than that. Your kindness, your beauty inside and out, your incredible love for me and Georgia … you’re my dream come true.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks as Lando pulls out a glittering diamond ring. “So Y/N Y/L/N, nothing would make me happier than for you to officially become my family. Will you marry me?”

A joyful sob escapes you as you sink down, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Lando, a million times yes!”

His relieved laughter vibrates against you. When you pull back, Lando takes your hand gently to slide the exquisite ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.

Georgia seems to sense the significance of the moment and toddles over to wrap her little arms around your legs. You lift her into a fierce hug between you.

“I love you both so very much,” you whisper emotionally. Lando’s responding smile outshines the luminous lights along the shore.

Cradling your faces in his hands, he seals his proposal with the sweetest kiss as the sunset fades to twilight.

You linger wrapped in Lando’s arms, Georgia nestled between you, as the first stars emerge overhead. Right here, surrounded by your little family, you’ve never felt happier or more at peace.

It’s extraordinary what two short years can bring — unexpected joy, profound purpose, and a love greater than you dared dream.

The brightest days are still ahead. But tonight, in this perfect moment, you know you’ve already found everything you’ll ever need.

***

The day of your wedding to Lando dawns bright and sunny — perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea.

Inside the bridal suite, your mother puts the final pins in your elegant updo while your bridesmaids fuss over the train of your lace gown.

A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. When you turn to face him in your wedding finery, his eyes well up.

“Oh sweetheart … you look absolutely beautiful.”

You immediately tear up too, embracing him tightly. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup before I’ve even walked down the aisle!”

He laughs wetly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Couldn’t help it! My girl is all grown up.”

Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself in the exquisite dress and pinned-back curls. But the overwhelmed bride staring back has the same little girl dreams you harbored all those years ago. Dreams that are finally coming true today.

Another quick knock precedes Georgia toddling in, chubby legs pumping. Your flower girl is absolutely angelic in her silky dress.

“Mama, pwetty!” She declares, rushing over for cuddles. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent you adore.

“You look so beautiful, my love.” Blinking back fresh tears, you smooth down her unruly curls. “Ready to walk down the aisle with flowers?”

Georgia just grins and reaches for your necklace. You tickle her belly, making her dissolve into adorable giggles. Your heart swells with love for your daughter.

Too soon, the wedding coordinator is poking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just about time!”

Butterflies erupt as everyone hustles to line up. Your father tucks your arm through his, beaming with pride. Just outside the doors, Georgia toddles down the petal-strewn aisle ahead of you both.

Then the soaring orchestral processional begins, and you step out into the golden afternoon sunlight. Gasps and murmurs rise at the sight of your dramatic gown trailing behind.

But your eyes lock instantly on Lando under the flower-woven arch, looking devastatingly handsome in his slate grey suit. His face lights up, and you know that your own mirrors the same wonder and joy.

The ceremony passes in a blur of emotions. Before you know it, the officiant instructs you and Lando to face each other and take hands. Time for the vows.

You go first, hands shaking as you pull out your prepared words. But speaking from the heart comes easily.

“Lando, when we first met under the most unexpected circumstances, I had no idea of the amazing journey we’d go on together. My job was to ensure your new daughter received the care she deserved.”

Your voice wavers slightly. “But so quickly, you both became so much more. Being welcomed into your family was the greatest gift. Watching Georgia grow, guiding her first steps and words ...”

You have to pause, blinking back more tears. Lando squeezes your hands encouragingly.

Composing yourself, you continue thickly, “I vow to always provide that same nurturing love and support. I promise to be your safe place to call home after long days apart. And I pledge to show our daughter daily what it means to be a strong, compassionate woman.”

Taking a shaky breath, you finish softly, “You two are my entire world. Loving you is life’s greatest joy.”

Lando’s eyes glisten as he brushes away the single tear trailing down your cheek. His thumbs linger, cradling your face tenderly.

Clearing his throat, he begins his own vows, voice wavering with emotion. “Y/N, you appeared in my life like an angel that frightening day at the hospital. I was so lost, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of suddenly having Georgia.”

He glances down at your joined hands. “But your compassion and wisdom guided me through those uncertain early days. You made us feel safe.”

Looking up, his eyes pierce yours intensely. “What started as our doctor-patient relationship grew into the most important friendship I’ve ever known. And then, miraculously, into true, deep love. Thank you for loving Georgia as your own and showing me what true partnership means.”

Lando’s voice cracks. He pauses to take a shaky breath. “So I vow to spend every day reciprocating that love and support. I promise to shield you from the chaos of my world and provide a peaceful home for our family.”

Then he turns, taking a folded paper from the best man. “I asked Georgia if she wanted to say anything to her mama today.”

He opens it to reveal a drawing of three stick figures, one much smaller than the others. Scribbled hearts surround you all.

Lando’s voice thickens. “She said to tell you she loves you ‘this much’ and that you’re the best mama ever.”

A sob escapes you as Lando refolds the cherished drawing and hands it over. You press it to your heart, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

Finally, you slip the wedding bands onto each other’s fingers with whispered words of eternal love and commitment.

When the officiant pronounces you husband and wife, Lando sweeps you into his arms for the kind of kiss that steals your breath and stops time.

You are finally, officially, wholeheartedly one.

The reception flies by in more happy tears, moving speeches, delicious food, and dancing under the stars. Watching Lando twirl Georgia around the floor tugs at your heart.

Later, as you slow dance wrapped in your new husband’s arms, Lando kisses your hair and whispers, “Ready for this new adventure together, Dr. Y/L/N-Norris?”

You beam up at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Mr. Norris.”

No matter where life takes you next on this journey, your family will thrive and grow stronger. Lando’s love lifts you up in ways you never imagined possible. And you vow to cherish and repay that gift until your last breath.

***

Returning home from a blissful honeymoon, you settle back into domestic life with Lando and Georgia. Mornings are spent over pancakes, playing hide and seek, and dancing around the living room. The pure joy of your little family never ceases to warm your heart.

One evening after putting Georgia to bed, you curl up with Lando on the couch and hesitantly broach something you’ve been thinking about.

“So I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s just an idea, and please don’t feel pressured at all.” You take a deep breath. “What would you think about me officially adopting Gigi?”

Lando’s eyes widen in surprise. You rush to continue explaining.

“I don’t want you to think I need a piece of paper to love her with my whole heart, because I already do. More than anything in this world.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Reaching out, you grasp his hands. “I just want to make sure that no matter what, I have a legal right to take care of her. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it!”

Lando is quiet for a long moment, studying your anxious face. Then a smile spreads across his face. “Love, I think it’s a beautiful idea.”

You sag in relief. “Truly? I wasn’t sure if it was too much ...”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss. “Gigi is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mum. I want the whole world to know that too.”

Tears prick your eyes as Lando caresses your cheek. “The day you promised to love Georgia as your own was the moment I knew you were different. I see how you are with her — the time, the care, the unconditional love ...” His voice cracks slightly.

“You gave us the greatest gift. I want you to have the same security that she’ll always be yours.”

A single tear traces down your cheek. Lando brushes it away gently before drawing you into his arms. You cling to him, heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

When you finally pull back, Lando is dabbing at his own eyes. “So,” he says with a watery chuckle, “How do we make this official?”

You explain the process — paperwork, a hearing, lawyer fees. He waves it all off.

“Whatever it takes. I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow.” Lando squeezes you tight. “Soon you’ll legally be Gigi’s mum too!”

You grin and kiss him soundly. With Lando fully on board, excitement takes root.

Over the next weeks, you go through the steps — filing petitions, scheduling court dates, and explaining the process in age-appropriate ways to an occasionally grumpy Georgia when she can’t go play outside instead.

Finally, the big day arrives. You dress Georgia in her favorite pink checkered dress and do her hair in perfect pigtails.

“My beautiful girl,” you murmur, smoothing down a flyaway curl. Her answering smile melts your heart.

At the courthouse, you all meet the social worker assigned to your case. She questions you and Lando gently about your relationship, home life, and approach to parenting. You cling tight to Lando’s hand the entire time.

Finally, it’s time for the hearing before a grandfatherly judge. He smiles warmly, peering over his glasses at you all.

“Well, I must say, this is one of the more straightforward cases to come before me. I can see clear as day how much love exists in this family.”

Relief floods you. The judge continues, “Therefore, I am more than pleased to grant the petition to finalize the adoption of Georgia Senna Norris by her mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Norris.” He bangs his gavel with an air of finality.

Joyful tears pour down your face. Lando whoops and sweeps you into a spinning hug. Even Georgia seems to realize something momentous just occurred, clapping her little hands.

In a daze, you sign the final paperwork making it official before emerging from the courthouse into the warm sunlight, your family now fully complete.

That evening, after Georgia is asleep, you curl up with Lando in bed, reliving the special day. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “I’m so proud of you, Mama.”

You grin against his chest. “I never thought I could feel so much love. She’s changed my life in every way.”

Lando tilts your chin up, eyes glowing. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. My girls who make life beautiful.”

***

One sunny afternoon, you’re in the kitchen prepping a snack for four-year-old Georgia when she comes bounding in from preschool.

“Mummy, guess what? My friend Amy at school is gonna be a big sister!” She hops up on her stool, eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh really? That’s fun!” You slice an apple into bunny shapes.

Georgia nods vigorously. “Yeah! Her mum has a baby in her tummy. Can I have a brother or sister in your tummy too?”

You freeze, knife hovering over the apple. Slowly setting it down, you turn to face her. “You want a little sibling?”

“Yes yes yes!” She bounces in her seat. “I asked Daddy already and he said I should ask you too.”

Your mind spins. A baby … it’s something you and Lando have only vaguely discussed as a someday possibility. But with Georgia asking so eagerly, the concept suddenly feels very real.

Just then, Lando walks in from his office. Georgia immediately appeals to him. “Daddy, tell Mummy we should have a baby! I wanna be a big sister.”

Lando meets your startled gaze, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Well, uh, what do you think, love? Could be kinda nice to add to our crew.”

You glance between their hopeful faces, heart swelling. “I think … that could be really special for our family.”

Georgia cheers while Lando grins, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “A mini you running around? Sign me up.” His smile falters slightly. “Only if you want to though, truly.”

You squeeze him back. “I really do. We’ve come so far since the days of newborn Georgia. I’d love to go through it all again with you.”

The joy lighting up Lando’s face erases any lingering doubts.

That night after Georgia is asleep, you curl up together to discuss logistics. “I’ll need to give notice at the hospital once I’m pregnant so they can find someone to cover my maternity leave.”

Lando waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about any of that. Focus on growing our little muffin and I’ll handle the rest.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Our little muffin?”

“Or crumpet. Jellybean. Peanut.” Lando grins. “Take your pick, I’ve got a million terrible nicknames ready to go.”

Laughing, you swat his chest playfully. Sobering, you add, “It won’t be easy juggling a newborn and busy four year-old. But I can’t wait to see Georgia as a big sister.”

Lando smiles tenderly, threading his fingers through yours. “You’re already the most incredible mum. Our kids are so lucky.”

Your throat tightens at the absolute faith in his voice. No matter the challenges ahead, you’ll get through them together.

When you share the news with Georgia, she screeches loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her enthusiasm never wanes over the following months.

Finally, the big day arrives. After a long but relatively smooth delivery, your son enters the world screaming indignantly. The sound is music to your ears.

Lando cuts the cord with shaking hands before your little boy is placed in your arms. Love surges fiercely and instantly.

“Hi Maddox,” you whisper through joyful tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Lando presses a kiss to both your heads before going to bring Georgia in. She gasps softly, climbing up to peer at her new brother with wide eyes.

“He’s so little!” Reaching out a gentle finger, she strokes Maddox’s downy cheek. Your heart clenches watching your babies meet.

Georgia cuddles close as you adjust her arm to help cradle Maddox. “I’m your big sister Gigi! I’m gonna help take care of you.” She drops a sloppy kiss on his forehead.

Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, you meet Lando’s equally wet gaze. The road that first led you to Lando has become so much more than you ever imagined. But you wouldn’t change a single unexpected twist or turn.

***

You link arms with Lando as you make your way through the familiar Silverstone paddock. The distinctive smell of race fuel hangs in the air, mingling with the buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd.

Georgia skips ahead, her brunette curls bouncing with each step, while Maddox clings to Lando’s free hand, his eyes wide with wonder. Alexa, your two-year-old, nestles securely in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching the McLaren teddy bear she insisted on bringing today. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her cherubic face, so much like Lando’s. Your heart swells with love for your beautiful family.

“Mummy, look!” Georgia calls out, pointing towards the McLaren garage suite. “Can we go in and see the car later?”

“We’ll see, darling,” you reply with a wink, knowing full well that Lando will ensure a special tour for the kids.

Lando squeezes your hand, his warm eyes twinkling with adoration. “Anything for my favorite girls … and Maddox,” he teases, ruffling Maddox’s hair playfully.

Maddox giggles, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “I’m your favorite boy though, right?”

“Of course,” Lando assures him with a conspiratorial wink.

As you continue down the bustling pathway, a Sky Sports reporter spots your family and rushes over, microphone in hand.

“Lando! Dr. Y/L/N-Norris! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?” He asks, his cameraman already rolling.

Lando nods, ever the professional. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”

The reporter flashes a bright smile at the camera. “We’re here at the Silverstone Circuit with McLaren driver, Lando Norris, his wife, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Norris, and their children, Georgia, Maddox, and Alexa. It’s the weekend of the British Grand Prix, and the Norris family has been a fixture in the paddock for years.”

He turns to Georgia and Maddox, crouching down to their level. “So, you two must love coming to the races with your dad. What’s your favorite part?”

Georgia’s eyes light up as she launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the cars and the pit stops, her hands gesturing animatedly. Maddox, the quieter one, simply mumbles “the colors” with a shy grin.

The reporter chuckles, clearly charmed by the children’s responses. Straightening up, he addresses you and Lando. “And how about you two? Managing a hectic F1 schedule with three young kids can’t be easy. What’s the secret?”

Before either of you can respond, Georgia pipes up, “But it’s not three kids, it’s five!”

You tense, shooting Lando a panicked glance. This wasn’t how you’d planned to share the news of your pregnancy.

“Five kids?” The reporter’s brows furrow in confusion.

Georgia nods matter-of-factly. “Yep, there are two more babies in Mummy’s belly!”

A hush falls over the small crowd that has gathered nearby, and you can feel dozens of eyes trained on your still-flat stomach. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively place a protective hand over your abdomen.

The reporter blinks, clearly thrown off-script. “Well, I … congratulations! That’s certainly going to be a handful.”

You force a laugh, leaning into Lando’s solid frame. “Yes, well, Lando’s always said he wants a football team.”

Your husband grins, that cheeky grin you fell in love with, and wraps an arm around your waist. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The crowd titters with amusement, and you can feel the tension dissipating.

“I can only imagine,” the reporter replies with a smile. “Well, thank you all for chatting with us today, and congratulations again on your growing family!”

As the reporter and his crew move on, you turn to Lando, your eyes shining with unshed tears — a heady mix of residual mortification and overwhelming love.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his stubbled jaw. “I know we wanted to share the news on our own terms.”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss, his lips warm and achingly familiar against yours. When he pulls back, his gaze is soft, adoring.

“Are you kidding? There’s no better way to announce it than through Gigi,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I’m just happy the whole world knows that I have super sperm.”

You laugh despite yourself, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me,” he counters, that infuriatingly irresistible grin stretching across his face.

“God help me, I do,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

Georgia bounds over then, Maddox and Alexa in tow, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

“Was I not supposed to tell, Mummy? Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her eyes wide and questioning.

You quickly kneel down, gathering all three children into your arms and peppering their faces with kisses.

“No, my darling, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just … surprised us, that’s all.” You share a look with Lando over their heads, a look that conveys a thousand words — your hopes, your dreams, your boundless love for this incredible little family you’ve created together.

Lando reaches down, ruffling Georgia’s curls with one hand while gently squeezing your shoulder with the other. A silent promise, a vow to always be by your side as you navigate the beautiful chaos of your life together.

Rising to your feet, you adjust Alexa on your hip and take Georgia’s small hand in your own. Maddox slips his hand into Lando’s, and you set off once more, the television crew long forgotten.

This is your life — a whirlwind of races and airports, photoshoots and interviews. But it’s also quiet nights cuddled on the sofa, re-watching Disney movies for the millionth time. It’s family hugs and sloppy baby kisses, skinned knees and endless giggles. It’s laundry piled to the ceiling and sleepless nights spent pacing the nursery.

It’s messy and magical, exhausting and exhilarating. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

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(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs. 

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up. 

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble. 

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think. 

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.” 

“Good.” 

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?” 

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.” 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them. 

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand. 

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.” 

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.” 

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it. 

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles. 

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake. 

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door. 

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts. 

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up. 

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone. 

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.” 

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?” 

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.” 

“Oh? How so?” 

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins. 

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.” 

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.” 

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.” 

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.” 

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.” 

“We’re doing our best.” 

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.” 

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.” 

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.” 

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.” 

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too. 

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost. 

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway. 

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough. 

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through. 

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt. 

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them. 

Tattoos. 

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings. 

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him. 

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand. 

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles. 

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.” 

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you. 

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you. 

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit. 

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...” 

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him. 

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run. 

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.” 

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks. 

He has a point. 

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.” 

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit. 

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.” 

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well. 

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes. 

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice. 

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit. 

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you. 

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.” 

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone. 

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega. 

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.” 

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength. 

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance. 

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless. 

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice. 

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit. 

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face. 

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.” 

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back. 

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?” 

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room. 

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.” 

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight. 

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. 

“It’s his fault.” You murmur. 

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows. 

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours. 

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position. 

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.” 

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode. 

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.” 

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office. 

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince. 

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.” 

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly. 

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.” 

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.” 

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?” 

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust. 

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.” 

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.” 

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.” 

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering. 

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?” 

You nod. “Ozone.” 

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.” 

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess? 

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack. 

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.” 

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look. 

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.” 

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down. 

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.” 

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.” 

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?” 

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud. 

“Why not?” She asks. 

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur. 

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks. 

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.” 

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse. 

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you. 

That word again. 

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week. 

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply. 

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you. 

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.” 

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?” 

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.” 

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” 

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain. 

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?” 

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.” 

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.” 

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin. 

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide. 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.” 

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...” 

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”  

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain. 

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?” 

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.” 

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this. 

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now. 

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her. 

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to. 

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in. 

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly. 

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys. 

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms. 

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?” 

You nod. “Thank you.” 

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.” 

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet. 

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any. 

Ask for one thing that you want. 

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to. 

You could ask for something that’s not material. 

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today. 

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed. 

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants. 

You can want this. 

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this. 

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling. 

You want this. 

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-” 

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed. 

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-” 

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip. 

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.” 

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-” 

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours. 

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist. 

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.” 

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.” 

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything. 

This isn’t a want. 

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow. 

“Come in.” 

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there? 

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen. 

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.” 

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air. 

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough. 

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.” 

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.” 

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap. 

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him. 

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand. 

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders. 

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you. 

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe. 

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest. 

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck. 

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent. 

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body. 

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it. 

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly. 

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before. 

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again. 

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south. 

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him. 

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall. 

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days. 

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?” 

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest. 

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.” 

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked. 

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed. 

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock. 

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you. 

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips. 

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days. 

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing. 

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall. 

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him. 

You’re going to be the death of him. 

NEXT ->

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

[luveline]

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe. 

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent. 

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks. 

“Hotch?” you ask. 

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?” 

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.” 

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.” 

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands. 

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it. 

“What happened?” 

“They were kissing.” 

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?” 

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…” 

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose? 

“They were too close,” you say more firmly. 

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon. 

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?” 

“You think I’m overreacting.” 

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.” 

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?” 

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open. 

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.” 

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask. 

“Angel?” 

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.” 

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath. 

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence. 

“I didn’t really look.” 

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” 

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.  

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says. 

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?” 

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm. 

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble. 

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy. 

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him. 

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks. 

“When can’t you?” Spencer asks sincerely. 

Footsteps. A door opening. 

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?” 

“Can you hug me?” 

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.” 

“I am?” 

“Just a little…” 

You try your best to stand completely still. 

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.” 

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better. 

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.” 

“Can I explain it to you later?” 

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says. 

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

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