#martin x lewis

[ringa-starr]

I would like to dedicate this fic to @fredandginger64. You're awesome and I hope we can be friends. :) I hope this story is to your liking and I hope you all enjoy!

Peace, Love, M&L

Love,

-Dee

"You've got to be kidding me, Dean!" Jerry exclaimed, slapping his hand on the worn-out diner counter. His eyes bulged with a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Dean's smirk remained steadfast as he took a casual sip of his black coffee. "What's the big deal, Jer?" he quipped, his tone as smooth as the jazz playing faintly in the background. "It's just a little harmless fun, like old times."

Jerry leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stern whisper. "Those 'little' stunts of yours have gotten us into more trouble than I can count, and we're not spring chickens anymore. You're going to break a hip or something!"

Dean's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, come on now, pal. Live a little. Besides, if you're worried about breaking hips, you should be more concerned with your dance moves."

Jerry rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up. "You're one to talk, Mr. Two-Left-Feet," he shot back, a hint of playfulness seeping into his voice.

Dean set his coffee down and leaned back on the stool, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, I know I've been a little wild lately, but you've got to admit, it's kept things interesting around here." The diner was their usual spot, a relic of their past that had seen countless laughs, schemes, and the occasional heated debate. The chrome and vinyl stools had held their secrets for decades, and the scent of greasy food and stale coffee was almost comforting.

Jerry's expression softened a bit as he took in the familiar surroundings. "I know, Dean. But we've got responsibilities now. Families, careers... we can't just go around pulling pranks like we're still teenagers." He paused, his gaze drifting to the jukebox in the corner, playing a tune that had been popular back when they were first starting out.

Dean's smile faded, and he nodded solemnly. "I get it, Jerry. But sometimes I miss the simplicity of those days." He paused, his eyes misting over. "The laughter, the camaraderie... it's all so complicated now."

Jerry reached out and gripped Dean's shoulder, his thumb tracing the fabric of his old friend's jacket. "I miss it too, buddy. But we've got each other, and that's what counts." He sighed, the weight of their years resting heavily on his shoulders. "Let's just keep an eye on each other, huh?"

Dean's eyes cleared, and he nodded in agreement, patting Jerry's hand. "Alright, I'll cool it down, for you. But just one more, I promise," he said with a wink, his mischievous spark returning.

Jerry sighed, knowing that was the best he was going to get. "Just make sure it's nothing that'll land us in the hospital," he warned.

Dean's response was a nonchalant shrug. "No promises there," he said, his voice light and breezy. The diner's bell jingled as the door swung open, letting in a gust of cool evening air and the sound of distant traffic. A young couple entered, laughing and holding hands, and the two men watched them with a mix of nostalgia and envy. Their youthful energy was a stark contrast to the creases that time had etched into their own faces and the weariness that lined their eyes.

The waitress, a plump woman with a beehive hairstyle and a name tag that read "Sally," sauntered over to refill their mugs. "You two still at it?" she asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Dean flashed her a grin. "You know us, Sally. We're like a couple of old married folks, always bickering."

Sally chuckled, her eyes warm and knowing. "You two ain't changed a bit," she said, shaking her head. "Still causing trouble after all these years."

Jerry couldn't help but smile at the familiar banter. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he quipped.

Sally wagged her finger at Dean. "You watch it, mister. You're not too old for me to still swat your behind if you get out of line."

Jerry's grin widened. "Oh, c'mon Sally," he spoke up, "you know you enjoy keeping us in check. It keeps you young."

Sally playfully slapped her order pad against the counter, feigning offense. "Jerry Lewis, you're as much trouble now as you were when you two first strutted in here with those ridiculous bow ties!" She couldn't help but laugh, the lines around her eyes crinkling with affection.

Dean took the opportunity to slide off his stool, his eyes never leaving Jerry's. "Speaking of keeping things interesting," he began, a glint in his eye, "I've got a little surprise planned for the upcoming reunion show."

Jerry's smile faltered, his grip tightening around his coffee mug. "Dean, you're not serious. We agreed to keep it low-key, remember?"

Dean waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's nothing crazy, just a little something to get the old crowd going." He winked. "Trust me, it'll be a hit."

Jerry's stomach lurched, a knot of anxiety forming. "Dean, we're not the same guys we were back then. We've got to be careful."

"Aw, come on, Jerry," Dean protested, slapping him on the back. "It's just one night. We'll show 'em we've still got it!"

Jerry couldn't argue with the excitement in Dean's voice. The thought of performing together again, even for a night, stirred something within him, a spark of the joy they'd shared when they were young and fearless. "Okay, fine," he relented, "but you're promising me no stunts, no surprises."

Dean held up three fingers in a boy scout salute. "Scout's honor, no surprises... unless they're the good kind."

Jerry's eyes narrowed slightly, but he decided to let it go. He knew he couldn't change Dean's ways overnight. "Alright, but remember, I'm holding you to that."

Dean saluted again before turning to Sally, his grin widening. "You'll be there to see it, won't you, Sally?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," she replied, her smile genuine. "Now, what'll it be, you two?"

They ordered their usual – a burger and fries for Dean, a grilled cheese with tomato soup for Jerry – and the conversation drifted to the reunion show. Despite Jerry's reservations, he couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of stepping back into the limelight, even if it was just for one night.

The days leading up to the show were a whirlwind of rehearsals and costume fittings. The old theater had changed hands several times over the years, but it still held a special place in their hearts. The dusty stage, the faded velvet curtains, and the creaky floorboards all whispered memories of their youthful escapades.

As the opening night approached, Jerry couldn't shake the feeling that Dean had something up his sleeve. Every time he brought it up, Dean would just laugh it off, saying he was "keeping the magic alive." Jerry's nerves grew tauter with each passing hour.

The theater was bustling with activity, a cacophony of sound echoing through the backstage area. Stagehands rushed about, finalizing the set and checking lights, while a cacophony of laughter and chatter filled the air. Old friends and colleagues had come out of the woodwork to support them, and the camaraderie was palpable.

Jerry stood in the wings, his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the band warming up. He hadn't felt this nervous since their first show together, so many years ago. The audience was a sea of faces, a mix of those who had watched them rise to stardom and those too young to remember their heyday. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

"You ready, Jer?" Dean's voice was calm and steady beside him, a stark contrast to the tumult within Jerry.

Jerry took one last deep breath, forcing a smile onto his face. "As ready as I'll ever be." He stepped out onto the stage, the lights blinding him momentarily. The crowd erupted into applause, and the band struck up the opening number.

The first few jokes were well-rehearsed, a trip down memory lane that had the audience in stitches. As they hit their stride, Jerry began to relax, the old rhythm of their act settling comfortably into place. He glanced over at Dean, who was playing the straight man with surprising finesse.

But as the night went on, Jerry noticed a glint in Dean's eye that hadn't been there during rehearsals. His heart sank as he realized his friend hadn't listened to his pleas for caution. They approached the grand finale, a skit that had always been one of their signatures. It involved a complex series of physical gags and had been designed to showcase their youthful agility.

"Jerry, remember, just follow my lead," Dean whispered, the mischief in his voice unmistakable.

Jerry swallowed hard, his palms growing clammy. "Dean, we talked about this," he hissed back, trying to keep his voice low enough not to be picked up by the microphone.

But Dean was already in motion, setting the stage for the grand finale with an enthusiasm that belied his age. The crowd roared with excitement, clearly eager to see what the dynamic duo had in store. Jerry took his place, trying to focus on the scripted routine while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

The skit began with a simple dance number, which they both executed with surprising grace, considering the years that had passed. The crowd clapped along, their laughter swelling with each step and twirl. Then, without warning, Dean launched into an impromptu backflip, landing awkwardly on the edge of the stage.

Jerry's eyes went wide, and he could feel the color drain from his face as he watched Dean wobble precariously. The audience gasped, and for a heart-stopping moment, it seemed as if his friend would tumble into the orchestra pit below. But with a cheeky grin, Dean regained his balance and shot a wink out at the crowd, who erupted into applause and cheers.

Jerry forced a chuckle, his heart racing. He knew he had to stay sharp, to be ready for whatever Dean threw at him next. They continued the skit, each gag more daring than the last, and with each one, the tension between them grew tauter.

The climax of the performance was a human pyramid, a stunt they hadn't attempted in years. Dean insisted they could still pull it off, and the audience's anticipation was palpable. Jerry's knees trembled as he climbed onto the base, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked up at Dean, who was poised at the top, a smug smile playing on his lips.

"Ready, Jer?" Dean called down.

Jerry took a deep breath and nodded, gripping the shoulders of the men beneath him. The music swelled, and the audience leaned forward in their seats. This was it. The moment of truth.

The base of the pyramid shifted slightly, and Jerry felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. The lights above the stage were hot and intense, and he could feel the heat of the spotlight on his back as he climbed, one trembling hand at a time. The world narrowed to just the stage and the faces of the men holding him up.

"Ready?" Dean called again, his smile never wavering.

Jerry took one final breath, his grip tightening. "Ready," he managed to reply, his voice steady despite his racing heart. The music reached its crescendo, and with a collective effort, the pyramid of bodies rose into the air. For a moment, they held perfectly still, a tableau of camaraderie and defiance against the ravages of time.

And then, as if the universe had conspired against them, the bottom man lost his balance, toppling the entire structure like a house of cards. Jerry felt himself falling, his heart in his throat, time seemingly slowing to a crawl. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact. But instead of pain, he felt strong arms catch him, and the sound of laughter filled his ears.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself cradled in Dean's arms, the latter's face a mask of feigned surprise. The crowd roared with laughter, thinking it was all part of the act. Dean winked at him, a devilish twinkle in his eye, and Jerry couldn't help but laugh too, the tension dissipating. They had done it. They had survived the grand finale without serious injury.

As they took their bows, the applause thunderous and the smiles on their faces genuine, Jerry couldn't help but feel a warmth in his chest. The connection between them was as strong as ever, the years melting away as they shared the stage once more.

"You crazy son of a gun," Jerry murmured, panting slightly as the curtains closed.

Dean chuckled, setting him down gently. "What, you didn't enjoy that?" He draped an arm around Jerry's shoulders, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of their near-disaster.

Jerry swiped at the dust on his jacket, his own smile reluctant but genuine. "You know I did, you joker," he admitted. "But you scared ten years off me back there."

"Hey," Dean retorted, slapping him on the back, "that's what friends are for, right?" His grin was infectious, and Jerry found himself smiling back, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

The dressing room was a flurry of activity as they changed out of their costumes, surrounded by the well-wishers and old friends. Each pat on the back, each congratulation, was a testament to the joy they had brought to the crowd. Despite the close call, Jerry couldn't deny that the thrill of performing together had rekindled something within him.

As the room cleared out, Dean turned to Jerry with a serious look. "Look, Jer, I know I pushed it tonight, but you've gotta admit, we still got it." He paused, his expression softening. "But maybe we should ease up on the stunts, huh?"

Jerry nodded, his eyes misting over. "Yeah, maybe we should," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We're not kids anymore, Dean."

Dean's expression grew solemn, his hand resting gently on Jerry's shoulder. "I know," he said softly. "But we're still a hell of a team."

Jerry nodded, his eyes meeting Dean's with a silent understanding. They had come a long way from their early days, but the bond between them remained unshaken. "Alright, Dean," he conceded, "just no more surprises, okay?"

Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Scout's honor," he repeated, his smile warm and reassuring. "But we've still got a few tricks up our sleeves."

Jerry rolled his eyes but couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. "Just don't make me the punchline of any more of them, okay?"

Dean's smile grew wider. "Can't promise that, but I'll do my best." The two men shared a laugh that held a hint of the youth they had long ago left behind.

The reunion show had been a hit, a testament to the timeless appeal of their friendship and comedy. As they stepped out into the cool night air, the theater's marquee flickering above them, Jerry couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. "You know, Dean, maybe we've still got a few good years left in us," he mused, his eyes scanning the empty streets.

Dean clapped him on the back, his laugh lines deepening. "You bet we do, Jer," he said, his eyes sparkling with the excitement of the evening. "But let's not push our luck too much, huh?"

Jerry nodded, his own laugh lines crinkling as he smiled. "Agreed. We'll stick to the jokes, leave the acrobatics to the youngsters."

The two men made their way to their separate cars, the sound of their laughter echoing off the empty theater walls. As they parted ways, each climbing into their vehicles, Jerry couldn't shake the feeling that this night had been more than just a trip down memory lane. It was a reminder that, despite the years that had passed, their friendship remained as strong as ever.

[maxz-b]

fun fact I can't drink white monsters anymore cause they make me physically ill :/ the more you know huh part 37/???

[hero-israel]

I want you to know Malcom X hated Israel along with most people during the civil rights movement

"Most people during the civil rights movement" except for Martin Luther King and his family, Bayard Rustin, A. Phillip Randolph, Rosa Parks, John Lewis, Elijah Cummings, and hundreds of others, you mean?

Basically all activists involved in the civil rights movement respected Jews and Israel. You are of course permitted to ignore them in favor of faketivists who raise awareness on OF.

As for Malcolm X, there's a lot about him if you check the comments / reblogs; basically, he was extremely antisemitic for most of his life because that was the doctrine that the Nation Of Islam cult preaches. After going to Mecca and getting a taste of non-culty Islam, he changed his mind about Jews and apologized, then NOI killed him.

[bunnienorris]

Aston Martin handsome boy, lance stroll

[amirasainz]

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Masterlist 3

Masterlist 4

Started: 10.08.24

Last updated: 02.02.25

[verstappensrealwife]

FORMULA 1 - masterlists

TEXT AUs (multi)

୨♡୧

Max Verstappen ( 1 )

Logan Sargeant ( 2 )

Lando Norris ( 4 )

Fernando Alonso ( 14 )

Charles Leclerc ( 16 )

Lance Stroll ( 18 )

Lewis Hamilton ( 44 )

Carlos Sainz ( 55 )

Oscar Piastri ( 81 )

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Feel free to request another driver for the list ♥

[vettelsvee]

MY FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

before you read: check ABOUT MY WORKS to make sure you don't miss anything. let me remind you that everything you see in here is real person fiction (rpf) and any similarity or coincidence with real life is just that, a mere coincidence, but everything is fictional.

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

GENERAL MASTERLIST

⋆ SECOND CHANCES SAGA: Formula 1 fanfiction saga with 6 different stories, including Sebastian Vettel, Charles Leclerc, Mick Schumacher, Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton and Esteban Ocon ⋆ VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST: Prompts of Formula 1 x Reader stories where you can request everything ⋆ MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT: A Formula 1 fics compilation based on songs from my favourite singers of all the time ⋆ CLASSROOM GOSSIPS: A Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Teacher!Reader/Reader fics compilation

DRIVERS MASTERLIST

01. SEBASTIAN VETTEL 02. OSCAR PIASTRI 03. LEWIS HAMILTON 04. MAX VERSTAPPEN 05. MICK SCHUMACHER 06. LANDO NORRIS 07. CHARLES LECLERC

[logansargeantsbabymom]

I'm Sorry

Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

My heart raced as Lance stormed out of our apartment after our explosive argument. The slamming door echoed in my ears, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. Tears blurred my vision as I sank onto the couch, trying to process the hurtful words we had exchanged. I never expected him to call me that name, never imagined he would suggest breaking up.

Hours passed like an eternity. I paced the living room, my anxiety mounting with every unanswered call and text message. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? My mind conjured up the worst scenarios—accidents, emergencies, anything to explain his absence. Fear gripped me like a vice, squeezing tighter with each passing minute.

When Lance finally returned, the relief that flooded through me was quickly overtaken by a surge of anger. He looked tired and defeated as he stood in the doorway, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Where were you?!" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and worry. "I've been calling and texting you all day! I thought something had happened to you!"

Lance sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I needed some space, Y/N. I'm sorry for worrying you."

His apology only fueled my frustration. "Space?! You disappear all day without a word, and you think that's okay? I thought… I thought you were dead, Lance!"

The weight of my words hung heavily between us. Lance looked stricken, his expression pained as he realized the depth of my fear.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, stepping closer. "I didn't mean to scare you. I should have let you know I was okay."

Tears streamed down my cheeks, my emotions raw and tumultuous. "You can't just… disappear like that," I whispered, feeling the hurt and fear spill over. "I was so scared, Lance."

He nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know. And I'm sorry. I messed up, Y/N. I messed up."

Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken apologies and regrets. Lance reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. My breath caught as he opened it, revealing a key fob with the Aston Martin emblem.

"I got this for you," he said quietly. "It's not to make up for what I said or what I did today. It's to show you how much I regret hurting you."

I looked at the key fob, its significance not lost on me. It was more than a gift—it was a plea for forgiveness, a symbol of his remorse.

"Lance…" I began, my voice wavering. "I don't know…"

He stepped closer, placing the key fob gently in my hand. "Please, Y/N. I love you. I never want to hurt you like this again."

I closed my fingers around the key fob, feeling its weight and the weight of his words. Could I forgive him? Could I let go of the hurt and anger that had consumed me all day?

"Lance," I whispered, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "I love you too."

He pulled me into his arms, holding me close as we stood there in the doorway. The tension between us slowly melted away, replaced by a tentative hope for reconciliation.

The Aston Martin sat outside, its sleek lines reflecting the streetlights. It wasn't just a car—it was a promise. A promise to communicate better, to cherish each other, and to navigate the bumps and curves of our relationship with more care.

As Lance held me, I knew that forgiveness wasn't easy, but it was possible. And as we stood together, embracing the fragile yet resilient bond we shared, I dared to believe that we could overcome even our darkest moments, stronger together than we had ever been apart.

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taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[ithinkabouttzu]

Hey Mac! I was wondering for an ask if you could do where the BoB men would take someone on a first date? Thank you!

Where Easy co. would take you on a first date!

a/n: Of course sweet friend! I’m sorry this took so long but as you know, life has been 🫠, but i hope you enjoy! ❤️

genre: Romance/comedy

warnings: cursing?(maybe idk i forgot); my brutal honest opinion

description: Where the men of easy company would take you for a first date and why!

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop @imaginethatneathuh @goodluckbabeheffron @resting-distressed-face @bossboudicca (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: He's a simple man, might I add also a very romantic man. I think he would go for a classic candlelight dinner. Probably to some fancy Italian restaurant with amazing alfredo. He would pick you up, or meet you but either way he’s showing up with red roses. During the meal he’d be down for some nice conversation and overall he’s very charming. After dinner he’s paying and tipping the waiter generously.

Lewis Nixon: A sophisticated man like himself who occasionally enjoys history is definitely taking you to a museum for your first date. Thankfully he would pay for the both of you. I think it would go pretty well overall. Only somewhat bad thing about the whole date is the fact that he would talk so much about himself and interrupt. I don’t think he would do it on purpose, he really just loves talking any chance he gets lmao.

Carwood Lipton: He’s probably going to take you out to eat for your first date. Instead of a dinner date though, I see him taking you to a really cute cafe for brunch or something like that. He would be so polite the entire time, using his manners and being attentive to you. He’s kind of the opposite of Nix, instead of talking about himself, he can’t stop asking you questions and getting to know you more. “I didn’t know if you were allergic so I decided not to get you some, but I would love to give you a bouquet next time we meet.

Joe Toye: I feel like he’d be the type of guy to invite you to a bar on the first date. Not exactly like a bar but a nice seclusive brewery that isn't super overwhelming to get to, so I guess a pub? He's a fan of getting a couple drinks, relaxing, and talking about whatever is going on at the moment. He’s paying for all the drinks you get. Did I also mention that he’s so damn charismatic during the entire time? Afterward he would be more than welcome to walking or driving you home.

Joe Liebgott: This hottie would probably try to pick a nice dinner restaurant to eat at for your first date but then settle for something a bit more simple, like an ice cream date. You guys could sit, relax, and chit chat while enjoying a nice scoop of goodness (Sounds like an amazing date tbh.) He would of course pay for your ice cream and even take you out to another cool place afterwards (aka his room) if the date goes well.

Bill Guarnere: I feel like he’d definitely be the one to take you out to a nightclub on the first date. He’s all about having fun, and having fun with you, so why not go out and dance while getting to know eachother better? You definitely have to stop him a couple times for trying to grab your ass while dancing. You guys would have good conversation and fun and he’d definitely ask you to come to his place after.

George Luz: George would totally take you to an arcade on your first date together. I feel like that perfectly gives off his vibe. Fun and playful while still getting to know each other better. I'm not getting a Dave and Busters kinda vibe but maybe a cute place downtown that has fun games. (notice how you guys would probably be the only two adults there lol) Ughh it would be totally perfect. (George is so “Boyfriend” yk?) He would of course pay and afterwards maybe a cute kiss?

Moe Alley: I think he would invite you somewhere pretty random for a first date. Maybe wine tasting? It's giving middle aged mom but trust me it would be a total vibe lmao. Both of you would probably be a little tipsy afterwards (Ugh imagine flustered and tipsy Moe) and need an uber home. If he really liked the date I feel like he’d be the type to text you non stop until you guys go out for another date lmao.

Eugene Roe: I fear we’re going to find a common theme here. As much as I love Roe, I think he would settle for a nice dinner date like a good bit of the others. He would probably take you out to a steakhouse with really pretty decor. He would be such a cute gentleman the entire time. A little shy at first but he warms up to you as the night goes on. He's one of those guys that doesn’t want to make it awkward so he tries not to keep too quiet. (Also he would tip the waiter a lot which is a plus.)

Bull Randleman: Okay here me out: An at home dinner prepared by him. I know it’s kinda giving serial killer vibes when a man invites you to his house on a first date but lets go ahead and assume that you two already know each other pretty well beforehand. He gives such a homey vibe I feel like it would be out of his character to go out and spend a 100 dollars on a dinner that he “has all at home” But don’t worry because he can cook a pretty good steak.

Floyd Talbert: I think the first date with Tab HAS to be mini golf. The cute banter between you two while he’s slighting winning, the fake pouting once you take the lead. The flirting between holes and casual chit-chat while playing, he’s the perfect guy for a date like this. He’s so charismatic it's kind of hard not to fall for him after the first date. “We should come back here next week, then you might actually be able to beat me then, sweets.”

Skip Muck: To me I feel like he would want to take you somewhere a little seclusive where both of you can just relax and enjoy yourselves without there being crowds of people there. I could definitely see you and him going to a nice comedy show in town that has some nice drinks and food. It would be so fun for a little date night. Maybe afterwards you guys could stop by an ice cream shop and get some dessert?

Don Malarkey: I think like some of the other guys he would take you out to eat for a first date, but instead out to dinner maybe a lunch date at a diner? One with hamburgers and milkshakes that are to die for. There’s definitely a moment within the date where he’s trying to chug his milkshake and ends up getting a horrible brain freeze lol. Afterwards he would take you to a sweet drive-in movie theater to watch a classic movie. (He’s just the sweetest)

Babe Heffron: This first date has to be at an amusement park of some sort. I mean an amusement park kinda sums up his personality as a whole . Fun, wild, and if you’re there just know you’re having a good time 9 times out of 10. He would dare to go on all of the scariest rides with him. (Cue to him screaming at the top of his lungs right next to your ear. ) He definitely gets a stomach ache from eating all the junk at the park. By the end of the date he's making you take super cute pics in a photobooth

Shifty Powers: I’m really thinking that he would love to take you on a super duper cute picnic! He would set up a picnic table at the park and you guys could hangout there once the weather is nice during the day. He’s such a gentleman the entire time, it's certain that you guys are gonna have an amazing date together. Also his attempt at making a bunch of homemade foods is actually really good, I have a feeling he’s secretly an amazing cook!

Frank Perconte: He’s just gotta take you to a drive-in movie. He knows it won’t be too awkward because the movie will be playing, and if you guys run out of things to talk about then you guys could just focus on the movie. (Major overthinker here) he’s definitely one of those guys who sit there and stare at you intensely while you watch the movie and you can just feel his gaze on you lmao. “I had a fun time tonight, maybe we can go get dinner sometime again next week?”

Ronald Speirs: Again, (like a lot of the other guys) I'm sensing that he would take you on an amazing dinner date. He would probably take you to one of those fancy hibachi restaurants that make volcanoes out of onions and whatnot. I think he would be such a charming person you can’t tell if he’s going to be the love of your life or make you wish you were never born. He’s the type to pull up to the date with one singular rose to impress you lmao.

Johnny Martin: This old head is taking you bowling. (arguably one of the worst date options in my opinion) It’s a little awkward at first, just because the walking back from it being your turn and seeing him staring at you is so funny lmao. Also i can’t forget to mention the fact that he’s oddly super good at bowling?? I mean this man is practically getting a strike every time. “Maybe we should play again sometime, unless you don’t wanna get beat again.”

Chuck Grant: Okay here me out, this guy loves cars and motorcycles and just driving in general, so what would be better than a first date then go-kart racing?? It would be really fun and not too awkward for a first date. Maybe afterwards he could take you to a burger joint where you guys could get to know each other a bit better. But go-karting would originally take the awkwardness out of the first date.

Skinny Sisk : Axe throwing!! He wants to put your skills to the test (and his) with some fun knife throwing (i can’t tell if imagining him throwing an axe is hot or scary. ) Hopefully with a place that also serves food and drinks as well! The entire time he would try to make you laugh with a bunch of corny jokes of his (you can tell off the bat he’s kind of a terrible flirt lol) Afterwards he’d take you home and maybe finish the night off with a kiss?

David Webster: Knowing this guy, of course he just has to take you to an art gallery. He would sit there and try telling you all about some of the art pieces up for show. And after he would take you somewhere that has some really good tasting wine. I think the date would be very lax but also interesting. The more you talk to him all you can think is, “What else has this guy been through?” (I think he’s the type to trauma dump on the first date but can’t hate bc relatable tbh)

Buck Compton: I’m not trying to stereotype but I REALLY would want him to take you to a baseball game for a first date. He would be so excited to tell you all about the sport, he also desperately tries to catch a ball for you to take home. He probably buys you guys a ton of junk to snack on throughout the game and is so easy to talk to while the game is going on. “I know they lost but, wanna try and go out again sometime next weekend?”

Thank you all for reading so much! If you enjoyed, please help a writer out and like or reblog!! 🩷💖💕💝

[fernando-jpg]

f1 fanfic writers: so they hate each other...but they're teammates

me, gasping: my god they're teammates

[simp-and-shift]

grid mom: instagram au

paring: f1 x driver!reader

summary: the ultimate mom friend

warning: none

y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n: family dinner 💓

danielricciardo: great night!

user7: love when the grid hangout

charlesleclerc: thx mom

y/n.y/l/n: I hate this joke.

landonorris: my place next

maxverstappen1: no

alexalbon: no

georgerussell: no

kimiraikkonen no

y/n.y/l/n: kimi?

f1: the fam 💓

danielricciardo

danielricciardo: help! my mom took me to a bookstore

user3: adorable

landonorris: loser

y/n.y/l/n: lando

landonorris: sorry Dan 😔

y/n.y/l/n: I feel like everyone should know dan got "they both die at the end" saying that it cant be true

danielricciardo: WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THAT THE TITLE, IT HAS TO BE FAKE

lewishamilton: imma tell him

y/n.y/l/n: don't

y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n: life of a grid mom ep.2,630

charlesleclerc: really !?!?

y/n.y/l/n: payback for waking me up at THREE IN THE MORNING

user5: why is this so cute 😍

danielricciardo: landos hair😳

user4: what was carlos doing

y/n.y/l/n: complaining 🙄

lando.jpg

lando.jpg: happy (grid) mothers day

y/n.y/l/n: thx?

landonorris: YOU ARE WELCOME 😊

danielricciardo: love you mom !!

carlossainzjr: best grid mom ever

maxverstappen1: grid mom is best mom

f1

f1: We heard it is (grid) Mothers day, so shout out to the best grid mom and amazing driver Y/N ❤️

landonorris: YESSSS

pierregasly: half the gird would be dead with out y/n

yukitsunoda: including you?

pierregasly: especially me

y/n.y/l/n: what is happening 😳

y/n.y/l/n

y/n.y/l/n: my kids (i guess) 😊

[spoonfulofmilo]

Masterlist :)

up to date as of 25/1/25

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

alex albon

andrea stella

andrew 'shov' shovlin

arthur leclerc

carlos sainz

charles leclerc

daniel ricciardo

dino beganovic

doriane pin

esteban ocon

fernando alonso

general

george russell

gianpiero (gp) lambiase

jack doohan

james vowles

jenson button

kimi raikkonen

lance stroll

lando norris

lewis hamilton

liam lawson

logan sargeant

mark webber

max verstappen

mick schumacher

nico rosberg

oliver bearman

oscar piastri

paul aron

peter 'bono' bonnington

pierre gasly

sebastian vettel

susie wolff

toto wolff

victor martins

victoria blokhina

yuki tsunoda

[bippot]

Bippot’s Masterlist

Hey there! I’m Bip, a writer with a love for crafting stories. Whether you’re here for sweet moments, slow burns, or a bit of angst, I’ve got something for everyone!

If you’d prefer to read my stories on AO3, you can find me here

Here

Here

Here

Here

[rogue-durin-16]

PAST PROTOCOL

Request: hey beautiful you…could we maybe have more Nixon then? what about at the attack on Foy, reader gets hurt and Lewis has to be held back because he is panicking and furious about Dike letting this happen?

Summary: Things can get complicated when decade-long feelings meet restrictive protocols due to gaps in military ranks.

Pairing: Lewis Nixon x Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

Requested by: anon

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, blood, depictions of period-typical violence (it's literally ww2)

A/N: Didn't put much thought into this one but I think it turned out alright. Again, never thought writing for Nixon would be entertaining but here we are. Another George Luz request coming right away btw. They're keeping me busy while I find the strength to keep organizing the Liebgott multipart without spiraling. Enjoy <3

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The night was dark, quiet enough that the occasional murmur of voices seemed to carry through the entire company. I could feel the weight of what Lipton and I had come to say pressing down on me, but it was too late to turn back now.

My First Sergeant paced before me, an uncharacteristic cigarette hanging from his lips. He didn't like this one bit.

"Lip," Winters greeted exiting the improvised Battalion Headquarters, his voice measured as usual despite the shakingly low temperatures . "Y/n/n?"

Lipton and I shared a resigned look before I addressed the confused officer. "Sir."

"What in Pete's name are you doing here?"

"It's... Part of the reason why we're here, Sir." The West Virginian man replied before I could. 'Let me do the talking, alright?' Lip had requested on our way.

Winters gave us a steady yet somewhat weary nod and prompted us to follow him into the tent where he and Nixon were huddled over maps, the low lantern light casting long shadows on their faces.

Nixon had to do a double check when I trailed behind Lip. He raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of us with a hint of suspicion but not saying a word.

"So," Winters sat down, expectant, hands around a mug of steaming coffee. "what is it? How are the men?"

“Sir, the men are ready.” Lipton said, his tone steady, though his jaw was clenched. "I'll be leading Second Platoon tomorrow. It's the most affected out of the three and I figured it'd be best for me to take care of them." Winters gave him a nod as a form of agreement, and his eyes couldn't help but land on me for an instant. "I have full confidence in the men, Sir."

Here we go.

"On the other hand, I have no confidence in our CO, Sir." Winters’ expression shifted—just a flicker of surprise in his otherwise steady gaze. "He's an empty uniform. He's been taking... very questionable decisions." Lip's gaze flickered to me. "I think tomorrow he's gonna get a lot of Easy men killed, Sir."

He dropped it as heavy as it came, and one would think that would have everyone's attention on him, but Nixon was unabashedly focused on me.

I knew he wouldn't like me being there. It only meant trouble —trouble he could not solve, and that ate at him from the inside.

Nix and I had practically grown up together, our families being close since we were born. The older we got, the more we gravitated towards each other, an unspoken connection pulling us in. Sadly, war came and, to our mothers' dismay, we both enlisted.

Nixon, became an officer while I had to climb from down below —something I wasn't used to, but I had never backed down from a challenge. We wouldn't have imagined he would be assigned to my company. That made things way too complicated.

Which is why he drastically distanced himself from me; for both our sakes. It was difficult enough as it was, I couldn't have an officer favoring me and he couldn't engage in issues just because they involved me.

"I'm gonna address the elephant in the room. What’s she doing here?" Nixon asked, tilting his head with a scrutinizing look.

Lipton hesitated, choosing his words carefully, but I could sense that he was unsure of how much to say. "She'll be leading First Platoon tomorrow, Sir."

"She what?" Nixon jumped from his spot, brows almost meeting his hairline.

"You're not in this?" Winters' shocked whisper was directed exclusively to his friend.

"Do I look like I'm in this to you?" The brunet man spat more bitter than he should have. "Where is this coming from? Who's idea was it?"

"Permission to speak frankly, Sir?" I said, directing my question to Winters instead.

"Permission granted." He had become accustomed to it; Nixon and I using him as a bridge.

I drew a deep breath, and for a second, I questioned if this was a mistake. But the words had already lined up in my mind, and I knew I couldn’t hold back. "I’m a Staff Sergeant. I clearly shouldn't be leading a platoon," I said, keeping my voice even. "Just like Lieutenant Dike shouldn’t be leading Easy Company, Sir. He's as qualified to do so as I am."

Silence fell, thick and heavy in the small space. They both knew I had never spoken ill of any officer or fellow soldier, no matter what I had seen myself dragged into. That's how bad it had gotten.

Nixon’s mouth opened, but for a moment, he seemed unsure of what to say. "You’re saying Dike’s incapable."

"Yes, Sir," I replied, my voice softer but no less certain. "Respectfully, Sir, he’s going to get people killed if he’s in charge out there. We’ve all seen it. And the men—" I glanced at Lipton, who gave a tight nod of encouragement. "They don’t trust him."

Winters exchanged a long look with Lipton, and I could see the gravity of the situation weighing on him. But as much as he might have wanted to do something, it wasn't their choice, and we were stuck with it.

We were about to be halfheartedly dismissed when Nixon exhaled a low, frustrated sigh. "So what do you want us to do about it? We’re as boxed in here as you are," he said, though the irritation in his tone was directed somewhere far beyond us.

'don't ask me for help' he wished to say instead. The four of us knew the moment I stepped into the CP, the problem in his eyes would be less about the company and more about me.

A part of me thought Lipton wanted this to happen; perhaps he hoped Nixon would put more pressure up on Regiment if I was dragged into it.

"We know, Sir." Lipton replied, carefully redirecting the officer's attention to him. "But as First Sergeant, I figured it was my duty to let you know what we think."

"The orders are clear." Winters finally spoke, his words steady but carrying a hint of resignation. "Dike is to lead."

Lipton’s shoulders sagged a little, and I felt the weight of what I’d feared all along settle heavily in my chest.

"Understood, Sir." Lip said, his voice barely above a whisper. For a moment, I almost regretted speaking up, but there was no turning back.

Lipton and I turned to leave, but Nixon’s voice stopped me as I stepped outside.

"Y/n."

I looked back, meeting his gaze. For a second, it seemed he wanted to say something else, something that wasn’t bound by ranks or regulations. He wouldn't do that, though.

"Stay safe tomorrow."

I limited myself to respond with the short sentence I had struggled so much to internalize when it came to Nixon. "Yes, Sir."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the cold, gray light just before dawn, the trees cast long shadows over the gathered soldiers. A tense quiet filled the air, broken only by the low murmurs of the men making last checks on their gear and formations. Winters was crouched a few feet away with Dike, going over the plan, his voice steady and insistent, doing his best to guide him through every step. Our Lieutenant's gaze drifted across the field toward Foy, and I couldn't help but wonder if Winters was getting any word into him.

With Martin's help, I stood a little apart with the men of First Platoon, running through their positions, double-checking who would be where, and making sure each of them understood. They all knew I shouldn't be leading, but tried their best to help me out.

Lipton who did the same as me with Second Platoon not too far away from us, caught my eye with a quick nod, offering some small assurance. But before I could fully return the gesture, Nixon appeared, slipping through the trees toward me.

"Sergeant." he took a look around us and gestured me to step aside with him.

"Captain." My curt response was choked by the formalities I no longer felt like indulging.

"Who exactly decided you’d be leading First Platoon into Foy?"

Oh, he was mad.

"Lieutenant Dike, Sir." his jaw clenched at the mention of the commanding officer. I knew what Lew would have said to me. But Captain Nixon surely wasn't able to cuss out my superior.

"Why was that?"

I barely held back a huff. "He gave no explanation, Sir, just pointed at me and moved on."

He pressed his lips into a line, clearly unsatisfied. "So you didn't do anything to bring this to yourself?"

"No, Captain." My gloved fingers tightened around my rifle's strap. "I just happened to be nearby."

"That's pretty hard to believe." There was a tinge of poison in his words. 'I don't buy it', he meant.

"Sir, with all due respect," I took a step towards him, shortening the distance between us. "Believe whatever you want. It's none of my business."

He held my gaze, conveying that annoyingly protective instinct I seemed to trigger in him since we were teens. "You're not qualified to do this."

"Frankly, Captain, if you have a problem," without thinking twice, I raised my pointer finger at Dike, sat still in the same position Winters had left him in. "go have a word with Lieutenant Dike. I'm clearly not qualified for this either."

That was it, I thought to myself when I turned heel. That was the last conversation I would have with Lew.

Maybe he thought the same, because I had barely lifted my foot off the mud when his hand found my elbow and tugged on it.

His eyes were softer now, brows knitted with worry. "Did he even ask if you wanted the job?"

"No, Sir." With a sigh, he glanced away, and while he tried to find the words, I continued speaking. "I didn't wanna be put in this position, but I'm gonna do my best to make it right." It wasn't the reassurance he needed, but I couldn't offer anything else when I had that horrible feeling in the back of my mind.

He saw straight through me, as always.

Nixon’s voice lowered as he dangerously closed the distance between us. "What happens when he gets himself in over his head?" I couldn't even open my mouth before he hissed "First platoon is leading in, what happens when you have to shoulder the whole attack?"

"What's the point of this goddamn conversation, Lew?" It slipped. It was quiet but it slipped. "It's... It's an order. I'm just doing as I'm told."

Nixon swallowed the lump in his throat but it had triggered a tenderness out of him I didn't expect. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just— this is madness." I muttered a soft 'I know'. "Y/n, I tried. I tried to get him transferred. Dick and I-" He discontent grunt escaped him. "He's untouchable and it's gonna cost us dear. And you're getting dragged into it, I swear to God, this son of a—"

"Alright, stop." The back of my hand stealthily brushed his, killing the words at the tip of his tongue. "I’ll figure something out."

Before return the hold I previously had on my gear, Nixon's cold digits trapped mine for an instant, giving them a squeeze. "Look, just... watch out down there, okay?" Nixon ran a hand through his hair. He was past the point of being tired. "Don't make me write to your mother."

'don't get killed'.

"Yes, Sir."

I held his gaze for a moment, something tight and unspoken settling between us.

As if on cue to break the spell we shouldn't be under, Martin called my name. It was time. With an apologetic look, I stepped back in my Platoon's direction.

"Stay sharp, Sergeant." Another plea, just like the night before.

I managed a small, grim smile. "Always do."

Martin sidled up beside me, raising a brow as he watched Nixon walk away to reach Sink. "The hell was all that about?"

I shrugged, adjusting my helmet before spinning to face him. "Just… Nixon being Nixon." Martin gave me a weary up-and-down that I swiftly shook off. "Let's do this, yeah?"

He nodded, clapping my back and prompting me to join the platoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We didn't even make it to town before what everyone feared happened.

We had made it through D-Day, Carentan and Holland, but when Lip, Luz and I exchanged exasperated looks crouched behind hay bales, it was clear as day we all thought that was it for us.

After a lot of outraged yelling on our parts to try and get anything out of Dike, the Lieutenant did what no one expected. He gave an order.

"First Platoon will surround Foy!" Dike’s voice might have been a quiver, but it was a direct command nonetheless.

It hit like a punch to the gut.

"Are you f—" My voice caught in my throat as I looked back toward him, trying to read any sense in his face. "Sir, you want First Platoon alone to surround and attack the town?!"

"Sir, they're gonna be exposed!" I had never heard so much anger in Lipton's voice, but it there was a time, it was now.

"We will provide c-covering fire!" Dike's shellshock face snapped to me. "Move it, Y/l/n! N-now!"

I didn’t have a choice. I ran back to my platoon bullets ricocheting around me. I kept my head down while I signaled Martin to take the men forward. With every nerve on fire, we pushed out the best we could until we were spread too thin around the town.

It was chaos all around while I tried my best to lead a platoon I shouldn't have been assigned in the first place.

Then it happened.

A sharp, hot pain ripped through my side. My legs buckled, the ground rushing up to meet me as I went down hard.

NIXON'S P. O. V.

I watched through binoculars the disaster unfold, my heart hammering violently with every wrong move, every stop, every scream from Dick.

I saw Dike’s shaky gestures and heard the garbled command over the radio, muffled by George's frantic plead for his CO to take the phone.

The binoculars dropped over my chest when I snapped my head at the higher ups from Regiment overlooking the scene almost unbothered at the sight of their best Company getting massacred.

Dick was too busy trying to get Dike on the radio, so I took it upon myself to not so kindly go off at XO's a few steps away from me.

I wasn't too far when the radio crackled with Lipton’s voice. All we got was 'Y/n' and 'hit'.

"She’s down!" Luz’s voice cut in, strained and tense, making my blood run cold. "Y/n’s down! First platoon is stranded!"

My chest seized, panic clawing up my throat when my trembling hands lifted the binoculars back to my eyes. Fate seemed to play a cruel joke and made me direct my view straight at Y/n, lying on the ground with a crimson pool of blood under her middle, propagating on the pristine white snow.

I barely registered Winters' furious call for Speirs; I was too busy grabbing my rifle —the same rifle I had never shot. My mind was a blur as my feet attempted to carry me to the battlefield.

Winters yanked me back by my arm and I shoved him off, only for Colonel Sink to step forward and block my path. I believe he was shouting something about ranks, but all I could hear was Luz's message ringing in my head.

There were numerous times in this godforsaken war in which I had felt useless and overpowered, but never to this level.

Nothing compared to the helpless feeling of having to watch the girl I had grown up with —the one I had so badly tried to protect— shot down in the middle of a frontline; caught in the crossfire without anyone able to help her while she bled to death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The aid station was full of activity as medics moved between beds, their voices a murmur of steady instructions. I had been drifting in and out of consciousness since they had brought me in.

I wasn’t fully sure, but chances were Speirs had been the one who got me out of Foy. I could still hear the echo of his barked orders, steady and focused, right before someone's hands had snatched my body from the chaos and onto a stretcher.

The sting of antiseptic seared my side, snapping me back to the present. A nurse leaned over me, quietly murmuring something I didn’t quite catch as she tended to my bandages. I forced myself to stay still, swallowing back a hiss of pain, when suddenly, through the thin canvas walls of the tent, a familiar voice rang out.

It was Nixon, and from the sound of it, he was furious.

"—no, I don’t give a damn if that’s not procedure. This never should have happened!" I could almost see him out there, pacing back and forth. "Dike’s a goddamn disaster. How many times did we say he’d freeze under fire?" There was a pause, then the slam of a fist against something solid—a crate, maybe. "We got soldiers down in there because he panicked. Is this what you needed to take Easy off his hands?"

My chest tightened, and I tried to sit up, ignoring the ache in my side. The nurse gave me a sharp look, pressing a hand to my shoulder, but I strained to listen.

"Do NOT tell me I'm outta line again, Lieutenant." A scoff. "You all knew he wasn’t fit for this," Nixon’s tantrum continued. "We all did. And now she’s in there, and I'm out here, waiting to see if she makes it out while I listen to this dumbfuckery!" He forced himself to continue, voice rougher. "This isn't— you're not pushing another replacement officer into the company."

There was another pause, and I could hear someone else murmuring low responses, as if trying to calm him down. But Nixon wasn’t having any of it.

"I don't give a damn! He's not gonna command Easy." Another murmur, another humorless laugh. "Oh yeah? I’ll go straight to Sink myself if I have to." The tent flap shifted, and finally caught a glimpse of him. No helmet, no gear. Just his winter uniform and that disheveled look he sported. God, he was handsome. "You're dismissed."

His arm hit the canvas with a grunted curse, and his confident steps came to a halt when he spotted my sitting form.

Resolved, he made a beeline to my stretcher, dismissing the nurse on his way.

"Captain Nixon—"

"Fuck that." My eyes widened ever so slightly at his harsh pitch. "I told you to be safe."

"Sir—"

"Don't call me that, Y/n/n." Oh. "I'm not in the mood to play on this bullshit." His complaint barely made sense to me, but I figured it had something to do with the trail of stitches on my abdomen and the fact that he had to witness it. "I told you to be safe." He repeated, this time with more intent.

"Are you really gonna scold me after getting fucking shot, Lew?" The act was down among us, but I just hoped no one could get me court-martialled for it. "Keep treating me like a kid, see where that takes you."

"I know you're not a kid."

"Then why do you keep acting like this?" I did my best no to raise my voice at him; the situation was a bit too reminiscing of the argument we held after he found out I had enlisted.

He had that same look on his face and that same paternalistic tinge, as if it was up to him what I could and couldn't do. This time he looked less anxious and more exhausted, though.

"You're doing it again." I warned him, but it only seemed to bother him even more.

"I'm doing it again because you keep doing this!"

"What's 'this'?" I spat, attempting to sit up only for his palms to hold me back onto the makeshift bed. "You hate seeing me try and hold my ground on my own?"

"I hate seeing you get hurt!" He was past the point of caring; if it wasn't obvious by the feelings-fueled shouts, the way he kneeled by my side did the trick. "Y/n/n." He shut his eyes, exhaling to collect himself. "I promised your mother I would take care of you, alright? How do I explain this without her forbidding me to step a foot on you house ever again?"

"You shouldn't have promised her anything." I limited myself to respond, although my reply was way less hostile and more understanding. I knew my mother would have dragged him into something of the like, but that was a burden he shouldn't have been carrying. "This is war, Lew."

"I had to." In those saddened dark irises, I saw a reflection of the boy who, scared, used to stand up for me in every situation. The kid that didn't fight unless cornered; the one that would always do anything to keep my reckless self safe.

I denied with furrowed eyebrows. "No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. I've always done that." He was trying to convey something through his retort, but when he saw it didn't seem to reach me, he gave up. "You don't know how much you mean to me. And God knows I wish it wasn't like that because you can be so annoyingly stupid."

Lew got one thing right from the beginning of this ranks shitshow— I was his problem. I had always been. And he had learned the hard way he couldn't keep saving me.

"I had to see you bleed to death and no one let me do anything about it." There was the scolding tone again, only that this time desperation and guilt engulfed it, and I couldn't help but feel bad. "Do you understand how that felt?" It was nothing more than a whisper.

"Do you think I wanted this to happen?" I matched his tone with a pleading gaze. "I followed orders, Lew. Why would I wanna get shot?" He casted his eyes down. "And why would I wanna put you through that?"

His hands rested on the side of the stretcher and I wondered for a second if, aside from being past ranks and formalities, we were also past protocol.

Fuck the protocol, I thought to myself before placing my palm atop his.

"I hate this, Lew."

His hand turned to intertwin his fingers with mine. A quiet silence briefly reigned our little corner of the aid station while we gazed at each other like starcrossed lovers from our books would.

"You're a good soldier, Y/n/n." It was an odd compliment coming from him. Maybe it wasn't a compliment at all.

I feared it would be something else; a goodbye, perhaps.

He swallowed, eyes darting everywhere before finding mine again. "You're getting back to the States in the next ship." Before I could open my mouth, he added, "It's not my doing."

Nixon expected me to clap back.

Maybe three years ago I would have.

"You're staying." It wasn't a question, but he answered nevertheless.

"The job's not done."

Only then it occurred to me why he was there.

"You've come to say goodbye?"

"We're moving out in a couple of hours." His hand escaped my own. So did his eyes. "I hate this too, Y/n/n."

My palms came to cover my face with a shaky sigh, the back of the head sinking into the poor excuse of a pillow.

"If you get yourself killed, Lew, I swear to God." My voice broke slightly. Whether it was due to the exhaustion or the fear of losing him, I couldn't tell.

"You'll come back to kill me?" He finished, making me peek through my fingers at his form, half turned away from me.

"Yeah."

"Consider recovering first, alright?" He attempted to joke, although the situation was too somber to make it land.

"I'm serious." I warned, uncovering my face to look at him —properly look at him— one last time.

"I know."

He wanted to say more, I saw it in the gleam of his eyes and the way his lips parted ever so subtly.

He didn't. He couldn't, not even when we were past formalities. It was too... Improper? Heavy?

It was too much.

So instead he rose to his feet, his digits fumbling a little to find my own and give them a tight squeeze, his attention roaming the tent to check if someone was watching.

"I'll see you back home." His voice was low yet clear, holding intent. 'I'm gonna come back to you', he tried to get across.

"Don't take too long." I responded, hoping he could read the plea in my visage.

This time it was me who let go of his hand, a silent allowance on my part for him to walk away, which he halfheartedly did, sparing me one last glance from the aid station entrance before disappearing behind the tarp.

"Jesus Christ..." I muttered under my breath, shutting my eyes to stop the tears from spilling. "You better come back."

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 9-It Ain't Over

Summary: Easy is tasked to dismantle German outposts across the river and were to return with prisoners for interrogation. The mission is successful but not without another loss. When the Colonel tried to send the men back in, Winters unconventionally goes against the grain, allowing the men a night of rest instead of risking more unnecessary deaths.

A/N: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFem!Medic, Post Bastogne, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Aggression, Angst, Confrontation, Military Terminology, 1940’s slang, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, A League of Their Own Movie References, Mentions of Weaponry, Yiddish/German language with English translation, Smoking, Crying, Banter, Pining, FOREVER FLUFF

German is identified with (g)

Yiddish is identified with (y)

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

February 1945/Night of POW Mission

American side of the river

Liebgott sits behind his M1919 Browning machine gun with his assistant gunner on a bombed-out landing at battalion headquarters right off the water, watching the rest of the platoon load into the boats on the riverbank. You sneak past the AG and sit next to Joe.

"Gams?? What the fuck are ya doin'?" he chided at you.

You roll your eyes, "Just checking on you two and seeing where the guys are." you respond quietly.

"Yeah, well, they ain't even crossed yet so get back downstairs, will ya? I don't want you out here if shit starts poppin' off." he scolded.

You sigh, "Fine, Joe, I just wanted to see you before anything happened, that's all."

You turned to leave but then hesitated. You looked over your shoulder at him with his back towards you. You return to him swiftly, grab his chin and plant a hasty peck on his cheek.

"Ich liebe dich, Joe Liebgott (g)(I love you, Joe Liebgott)." you say in a quick hush before you scamper off inside.

Joe grunted at you not knowing whether to be irritated or entertained,

"Du verdammte Füchsin (g)(You goddamn vixen)." he called after you before you could reach the stairs.

Basement of Battalion HQ

You and Doc sit together in the cellar of HQ, waiting and listening intensely for any gunfire exchange outside. Minutes feel like hours sitting there, as you sip on a tin cup of coffee.

Your leg is bouncing from anxiety, waiting for something to happen. Eugene reached across to you and grabbed your knee to stop your leg from jumping. You look up at him startled.

"You're too jittery. Lay off the coffee, Y/F/N." he said in his low soothing Cajun accent with a gentle smile.

You nod then smile back, placing your cup on the table next to you.

~~~~~~~

German side of the river

The patrol crosses the river in the inflatable boats. When they reach land, they strategically approach the building where German soldiers are posted. As Easy makes entry, Jackson rushes into the building too soon after throwing a grenade and is severely wounded.

The rest of the guys then rush the building and captured three Germans. As they retreat with their prisoners, the remaining German forces open fire. One of the prisoners is hit and is left behind on the riverbank.

American side of the river

Joe sees his platoon scattering towards the boats as smoke and gunfire erupt from the German side. He shifts his line of fire, anxiously waiting to pull the trigger.

"Jesus Christ, come on. Blow the goddamn whistle!" he yelled.

The sound of the whistle finally reaches Joe's ears. He lays heavy suppressive fire at the windows where he sees flashes from German MG-42s. He peppers the buildings back and forth, in hopes he's nailing each one dead center of their foreheads.

Basement of HQ

You and Doc hear an eruption of gunfire and shells dropping through the garden windows of the basement. You stand next to the little window listening hard for the yells and screams from your boys. Just then, you suddenly hear the faint call from the riverbank on the American side...

"WHERE'S THE MEDIC!?!?"

Alarmed, you look back at Eugene with wide, panicked eyes.

"No, Y/L/N." Doc said sternly.

He knew damn well what you were thinking, and he wasn't going to allow it. Not again.

You began to protest, "But they-"

"Y/F/N, NO!" he barked, "I'm not lettin' you run to danger again. Remember what happened in Ardennes?" He reminded you angrily.

You look down shamefully at your boots. Suddenly the basement door abruptly swung open as the platoon started scrambling in.

"Wounded! We got wounded, come on!" Ramirez bellowed.

You swept papers and utensils off the nearest table to clear it for Jackson who was being carried in.

"Set him right here!" you call out.

Johnny Martin entered, "Get the Krauts back there, shake them down! Move! Move! McClung! Get on over to CP, let them know what we got!" he ordered.

Jackson lying flat on the table, his face bloody and raw from the neck up, began gagging on his own blood.

"Jesus, what the hell happened to him over there?!" you ask overwhelmed by the soldier’s appearance.

"Grenade went off right in front of him." Ramirez reported.

"Shit, his lungs are probably hemorrhaging. He can't breathe right." you confirm aloud.

Doc gently pushed you aside and lowered his ear to Jackson's mouth.

"Light. I need some light. Give me some light." Doc requested urgently.

Grant took his lighter and flipped it on. Doc held Jackson's mouth open by the chin, observing and listening for a few seconds as the poor soldier gurgled and whimpered.

"All right, look at the flame. Look at the flame. Ok, that's good." Doc instructed Jackson.

The room became eerily quiet as they all watched Doc work.

"All right, let's get him outta here." Doc directed.

"I don't wanna die!" Jackson cried out.

He repeated these words tearfully over and over again as the platoon started to move him towards the door on a litter. Jackson started to grab at Doc, kicking off the surface as his choking worsened. The men set him down.

"He's gonna die!" one of the guys shrilled in horror.

"Hey, shut the hell up! You're upsetting him more!" You hiss over the sea of bellowing soldiers, while Jackson started to flail and kick in terror.

"Please help me, I don't wanna die!" He wallowed.

Doc tried to hold him steady on the stretcher, "Jackson, you're not gonna die! I need you to hang on!"

Jackson continued to bawl and throw an agonizing fit out of fear until the life drifted from his tearing eyes and his body fell limp. Doc sat up, dropping his helmet to his side with a huff of defeat leaving his mouth. He sat there, lost in his thoughts then looked up at you with frustration painted all over his face.

You look around the room at rest of the guys until you see Martin. You shake your head, confirming he didn't make it. You take Babe's wool blanket he wrapped himself with and covered Jackson.

~~~~~~~

The following morning, the platoon hung out in the barracks, resting up after a long night. Webster entered the room with LT Jones.

"Jackson is dead." Webster announced.

"Yeah, we heard." Joe replied from his bunk sitting above you.

"Yeah, well, they want another patrol tonight." Perconte added.

Joe shifted onto the mattress and laid against the pillow. You stood up angrily and walked out the room, down the stairs, and out the door to head to the basement back at HQ to be alone.

With most of Easy at HQ later that day, Winters, Nixon and Speirs address the same patrol from the night before to discuss the next mission for that evening. You're in attendance once again, across the room where you can see Joe as you stood next to Eugene.

Winters opened the brief by stating how proud he was of the good work the platoon did last night then added that Col Sink was proud as well.

"-In fact, he's so proud he wants you to do another patrol across the river tonight."

The men remain resentfully silent. Joe lights a cigarette then shoots you an unamused glance as Winters continued.

"Any moment now, the outpost we hit last night will go up in flames. Means we have to venture farther into town this time. Captain Speirs, you have the map, please."

Speirs passes the map to Grant to display across the table.

"We have enemy movement here and here," Winters began as he pointed on the paper, "Which means this is our new house target here. We recovered all the boats. So, we'll be setting off from the same place we did last night."

"We're not changing the plan any, sir?" Martin spoke up.

"No. The plan is the same. It will be 0200 hours instead of 0100. Is that clear?" Winters asked.

The men shifted in discomfort, "Yes sir." they acknowledged collectively.

"Good, because I want you all to get a full night's sleep tonight. Which means in the morning, you will report to me that you made it across that river into German lines but were unable to secure any live prisoners-" he instructed as he looked around the room to see if the platoon was tracking what he was saying.

Everyone looked at him in disbelief. The man was really ordering you to disobey Col Sink’s orders.

"Understand?" he pushed cautiously as he scanned the room making eye contact with each of his men.

"Yes, sir." The men replied in unison. (Some of their responses sounding like a question, unsure this was actually happening).

"Good. Look sharp for tomorrow. We're moving off the line." Winters finalized as he left the room.

The guys all breathed their first sigh of relief since Holland. A few exchanged handshakes. Joe stood up from the table to rush over to you.

"Did you just fucking hear that, Gams!?" His smile stretching from ear to ear revealing your favorite dimple on his left cheek.

You beam at him, "I did. He's a good man."

You wrap your arms around the back of Joe's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He pressed you against him, burying his face into your neck. A couple of happy tears stream down your face.

"Can we just hold each other for the rest of our lives?" you utter softly in Joe's ear.

Joe chuckled, "That's my plan."

~~~~~~~

As the sun set that evening, Cobb distributed bottles of liquor he found in the cellar at HQ. Each man happily accepted the offer, taking hearty swigs from the bottles.

Luz hacked, pounding on his chest to soften the sting of what he just swallowed.

"Shit! *cough* What the hell is this Cobb?? Jesus Christ!" Luz choked.

"What's wrong, George? A little too strong for ya?" Cobb teased.

"This stuff will knock ya on your ass." Malarkey confirmed as he took another drink.

You walk into the room, and the entire platoon cheered. You stop in your tracks, almost alarmed by their response to you entering the room.

"What are you miscreants doing now?" you ask looking around the room at them.

"Nothin' we're just happy to see our songbird!" Babe yelled across the room.

"Hey, Y/F/N, sing us a little somethin' yeah??" Luz pleaded.

"No, George, I'm not-" you contested before all the men groaned and boo-ed expressing their disappointment.

"-I'm tired, guys! It's been a rough few days for all of us." you defended.

"Hey, Joe, come on. Get her to sing!" Babe resorted.

Liebgott hopped off the top bunk and approached you with his bottle. You deliver a look of skepticism to him as he closed in on you. He raised his eyebrow as he smiled mischievously at you.

"No, Joe." Is all you say.

"Gams, the boys just want you to sing a little lullaby so they can get a good night's sleep like the captain said." Joe justified.

"Winters never said anything about me singing you to sleep." you pointed out.

"True," Joe started, "but Webster didn't get to hear ya yet, and l’ve been tellin’ him how sweet my girl’s voice is. I wanna show you off."

You shake your head at him, "You're unbelievable."

"I know." Joe replied confidently.

You look around the room at all the expectant drunk faces of your boys.

"One song so you can sleep. Just one." you compromise.

"Don't get on a chair this time!" Luz called out.

You glare at him, then smile.

"Get comfortable you idiots." you say as you dim the lamps to set the mood.

"What are you gonna sing, Gams?" Joe whispered in your ear over your shoulder as he snaked his arms around your waist from behind.

"A piece from Laurel and Hardy's The Bohemian Girl. Thelma Todd was always one of my favorites.”

Joe hummed as he pecked your cheek. You smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Hm, ir hot aoykh a bisl shlogn di flash, tsi nit? (y)(Hm, you’ve been hitting the bottle a little, too, haven’t ya)?” You ask Joe, smiling at him skeptically.

Joe only grinned, his face glowing and his eyes droopy, sauced from drink, exhausted by the mission, and completely entranced by you.

“Ok, settle down, boys." you project through the room.

"Hey, Liebgott ain't in bed." Perconte protested.

You guide Joe to your bed and have him sit. You stand in the middle of the room so everyone can hear. Every pair of eyes and ears focus on you, waiting patiently for you to begin.

🎶 “I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,

With vassals and serfs at my side,

And of all who assembled within those walls,

That I was the hope and the pride.” 🎶

You serenade to your platoon, watching their heads lull and their eyes flutter. You make a round around the room to each soldier, touching a shoulder here or patting another on the head over there, making a personal connection to each one to bring a sense of comfort amongst them as you near the end of the song.

🎶 “And I dreamt that one of that noble host

Came forth my hand to claim.

But I also dreamt, which charmed me most,

That you lov'd me still the same...”🎶

You come back to Joe who is laying across your mattress zeroed in on you with adoration behind his eyes. He beamed up at you from your pillow when you start combing your fingers through his hair as you finish your song just for him.

🎶”That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still the same

That you lov'd me, you lov'd me still-“🎶

You seat yourself on the side of your bed next to him.

🎶”-the same.“🎶

The room is quiet, with the gentle snores and breathes of the guys sound asleep in their bunks. Joe took your free hand and started to pull you towards him as he sat up to meet you half way for a kiss-

“That was incredible, Y/L/N.” You hear Webster compliment from the bunk across from Liebgott’s.

You look over at him and smile, “Thanks, Web. Get some sleep, buddy.”

“Yeah, can’t you see we’re busy over here?” Joe sneered.

Webster chuckled and turned towards the wall to make his back face you.

You look back to Joe, whose face was a hair away from yours.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You giggled.

Joe nudged his nose against yours, “Any second I can get with my girl is precious, I don’t want to waste it.” He purred.

You lean forward, kissing his lips softly. Joe’s faultless ability to lock onto your lips as he tilts his head to deepen his kiss always left you craving for more. You try to pull back but he holds you in place so you don’t go too far.

“We should sleep, too, Joe.”

A devilish smirk appeared across his face, “One of these days, Gams-“ he started without finishing.

You smile coyly and laugh, “I don’t mean to get you riled up. But we’re not getting away with anything in a room full of people.”

Joe shook his head and sighed, “Komm her, du Füchsin (g)(Get over here, you vixen)."

You scoot onto the bed laying across his chest as he enveloped you in his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you nuzzle into him.

"Liebe dich sehr (g)(Love you so much)." Joe uttered to you.

"Liebe dich mehr (g)(Love you more)." you whisper back, squeezing him.

~~~~~~~

@wordsaresimple-imnot @mrs-greenside @skiesofrosie 🪖♠️🦅

[verstappensrealwife]

Last Request - Fernando Alonso x Reader

[fernando alonso masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... reader breaks up with Fernando for the better of their relationship... until she drunk calls him accidentally. ʚɞ fluff, smut  ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1900 words ʚɞ warnings: Sex, P in V, oral (Fem receiving), swearing/cursing, drinking, being drunk

Part 2/2 part 1 here.

-୨♡୧-

You hadn't seen him since that night. Of course, you missed him, but you couldn't have him anymore. It had been almost 3 months and still he wouldn't get out of your head. You couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way he loved you, the way he held you, the way he listened to every word you spoke.

Your friends however, agreed you needed to move on- or at least get a rebound. You really weren't sure about leaving your bed, nor up for the idea of a cheap hook-up to distract you from the once love of your life, but you agreed to go out with them since you did need to get out your apartment for a little while.

You went to a club in the nearest city- well a few clubs- and after a few drinks you were officially feeling like yourself for the first time in months. You took shot after shot, drank a dozen glasses of aperol spritz, and by the end of the night ended up singing Dolly Parton to a whole club of people for karaoke.

Once you stumbled off the stage, giggling to yourself about the applause you were getting, you realised your friends had disappeared. Huffing, you walked outside the club and you pulled your phone out, hitting your friends caller ID and immediately hitting call.

After two rings she picked up. "F-Fiona? Hey Fi, where are you. I think I'm a bit lost," You hiccupped down the phone.

"Y/N?" A man said.

"Who- Who are you!" You shouted at the phone confrontationally. "Where is Fiona Harris, Mister."

"It's Fernando," He said. On the other side of the phone, he was lay in bed, at 1am. He- in all honesty- was hoping you'd called him purposely, to get back together, or to meet up for... things... He felt slight disappointment when he realised he wasn't who the call was meant for, but he didn't hang up, he wanted to hear your voice again. "Where are you?" He said, already getting out of bed and pulling the first clothes he could find, on.

"Where's Fernando- w-wait..." You laughed at yourself getting the names wrong, "Where is Fiona?"

"Where is Y/N?" He asked, already out the door.

"I am at the club!" You announced happily, "The one with the pretty flamingo on the sign."

Fernando knew, by such a small clue, "Don't move okay, my lo– Erm, I mean Y/N,"

"Okay mister man." You slurred, "Can you stay on the phone please mister man..." You asked, but then interrupted him and started talking about how much you really hated the club scene. He already knew every single thing you spoke about during the quick 10 minute drive.

When he got to the club, you were leaning against the brick walls of the club, still talking into the phone as it the receiving end of your call wasn't 10 feet infront of you. "O-Oh hey Fernando," You hiccupped, "What you doing here- hey!"

He picked you up and literally carried you to his car- to any passers by they would be inclined to think he was kidnapping you. Once you were settled in his passenger seat and fought your drunk hands from trying to grab at his face while he was trying to put a seatbelt on you, he drove you both to his home. "When did you get this car..." You asked, as you inebriatedly messed with the radio, dash board, and glove compartment.

"A few days after you broke up with me..."

"Oh- I don't like that answer... Make a new one please."

He chuckled, "A new one?" You nodded quickly and snapped your fingers for him to hurry up with his new answer. "Oh- Okay... I got it last week after a party."

You smiled and nodded. "Is it home time now?" you frowned confused.

When you got to his house, you already knew the procedure he'd make you do. He did it anytime you were drunk.

First, drink water, water and more water. Check.

Then brush teeth. Check.

Then, attempt, to wash your makeup off. Half check.

And finally, kiss him goodnight...

You stepped out the bathroom into the bedroom. He was stood stiffly with a pair of your old pyjamas in his hands and another bottle of water.

"You- You are so good." You slurred, "C-can you help me." You said as you struggled to unzip the back of your dress.

He nodded, putting the items on the bed and turning you around. His hands lingered a little long on your shoulders after pushing your hair from your back. He, slowly, dragged the silver zipper down to the bottom of your back. He shamelessly stared for a moment before turning around. "What you doing?" You asked, "Why you not looking... You've seen before?"

"I- I know I have I just don't want to intrude."

"You can intrude..."

"Not when you're drunk," He replied. You simply nodded- not that he could see- and began to dress into more appropriate clothes to sleep in.

After a few minutes, when you got into bed, he was about to leave when you stopped him quickly, "Don't leave baby..." You babbled, tiredly. Baby... "I trust you- sleep here."

"I- I don't think–"

"I think yes. Come please." You demanded.

He gave in. Lying stiff next to you. You wriggled towards him, giggling to yourself as you, in your eyes, sneakily got over to him and grabbed him. He melted at the touch of your hands on his stomach and your head on his chest. You both fell asleep quickly, it was the first full nights rest Fernando had gotten in a while. When you woke up, you had rolled over to the other side of the bed. Nothing out of the ordinary since you moved alot in your sleep.

He heard you groan under your breath as you were waking up, then a gasp. You sat up quickly and looked at Fernando next to you. "Oh my god." You mumbled. "Oh, my god, oh, my god." You repeated it a few times before Fernando shut you up.

"I didn't sleep with you, stop shouting it is early." He said, in that deep morning voice you always loved.

"Oh."

"You called me drunk about how you lost Fiona and whoever else,"

"That's absolutely humiliating." You mumbled, "S-so nothing happened? Nothing at all?"

He shook his head, "Only you tried to get naked for me so," He laughed, when you groaned in embarrassment. "Don't worry, I looked away..." He said, "You want me to make you breakfast?" He asked, before you could reply he interrupted himself, "N- no, never mind I'll get you an uber- stupid thing to ask..." He mumbled, taking his phone from the side table.

You quickly snatched his phone. He looked at you stunned. "You know how i like my pancakes," You smiled. He looked at you, almost with hope in his eyes. When you smiled at him he felt his heart burst open. He shot up out of bed.

"These will be the best pancakes you've ever tasted," He promised. You chuckled and watched as he ran out the room, then minutes later hearing a clatter in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes and ventured the house to find him.

There was a bowl on the floor, three forks and a spoon, as well as a cook book.

You stared at his back muscles, you won't lie. You didn't forget he slept shirtless. "How's the cooking going 'Nando?" You laughed, his heart skipped a beat. He spun around quickly with a nervous look on his face. He slowly shuffled to the side to reveal a mess of what looked more like cookie dough than pancake mix. "Need help?" You laughed at him, there was flour on his forehead and half an egg yolk on the counter. He nodded silently. You're smile was still on your face as your laugh died down. You stepped infront of him, first throwing whatever he had made away, then picking up the items from the floor and finally standing infront of him. "You have a little..." You pointed at his forehead, he tried to wipe it off and missed. Completely. You smiled and pressed your finger to his head, carefully wiping it off his skin. He stared at your face, eyes, nose, the few freckles on your cheeks and finally your lips. He couldn't help but imagine himself against them again.

"Kiss the cook, huh?" You chuckled.

"Huh?" He was pulled out of his trance. You pointed to his apron, "O-Oh yeah, Lance got it me... the same day we uh... yeah."

You nodded silently, you were between the counter and his body, you hadn't even realised until he got closer and you were against the cold slab of marble. His chest was rising and falling quickly, his eyes staring all over your face, lingering on your lips.

You pressed your hands on his chest, he took a step back, maybe it was too far.

That was what he thought until your hands gripped the fabric of the apron and pulled him back into you.

"Is this wrong?" You questioned him.

"How can this be wrong?" He replied.

"Kiss the cook?" You asked quietly. He was quick to pick you up and put you on the counter, pressing his lips onto yours, he stood between your legs and held you by the waist, while you hands held the back of his head. "God, I missed you," you sighed.

"Not as much as me, my love." he replied, his lips then immediately back on yours. The kiss was needy, wanting and longing for you for months.

You pulled the apron off his body, putting your hands on his bare chest, wrapping your legs around his waist before he pulled you off the counter and to the bedroom. You shrieked a giggle as he carried you through the house, his lips never leaving your neck, his lips tracing the skin, savouring the taste.

He let go of you as you got to the bed, "This is okay?" He checked, to which you nodded thoroughly.

He pulled your pyjamas off your body like it was an inconvenience to him. He crawled down the bed and pushed your legs apart, licking his lips before putting his head between your thighs, your hands instinctively grabbing at his hair, your heels digging into his back as his hands firmly held the flesh of your thighs.

After pulling 2 orgasms out of you he was lining his cock up with your entrance. You nodded as he looked at you once again for a go ahead. He pushed in slowly, dropping his head to your shoulder and groaning curses. He sped up after a moment, and you quickly became a wreck beneath him.

A whining, moaning, shaking, wreck.

"F-Fernando..." You whimper, "I- I'm going to..."

You don't even get the words out before you scream and spasm, everything tingling and throbbing as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and heat flooding your entire body. He's quick to follow you, bottoming out inside of you before pulling out of you and rolling next to you. "Jesus." You say, before laughing a little. "That was probably the best sex I've ever had."

He nods in agreement, he's staring at you like you're God yourself. "S-So does this mean like-"

"If you'd like to, then yeah it does."

You barely finish what you're saying when he jumps back onto you and smothers you with kisses making you laugh hysterically. "I love you so so much, my love, I'm not letting you go again," He announces, before getting up, pulling a robe over himself and then going to the window of the bedroom before shouting out of it, "She's all mine!"

El fin.

hope this was enjoyable. first fic I've wrote for Tumblr. anywho.

<3