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alocon · 10 months ago

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Forever Irresistible [5/5] - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

written by alocon

Summary: Despite all hope, Lando never lost his feelings for his best friend's twin sister. However, he still hadn't acted on it. Well, that was until the party, which led you two into a long-term secret relationship

Warnings and Tropes: Fluff, implied smut (no actual smut though), final part

[Part One Here] [Part Two Here] [Part Three Here] [Part 4 Here] [Masterlist]

Irresistible - LN4 x Fem!Reader

“Can we get lunch together tomorrow to talk? Just me and you?”, the 12 words which had been absolutely overwhelming you for the past hour. Rather than give you an idea about what your brother wanted to talk about, Max had instead left you with an ominous “could go either way” message.

You see, it seemed like he was coming around after that family dinner, when he asked you to message him, but no. He instead expressed that he would not be talking to you for a while to work out how he felt about it. It's fine, you thought, a while may only be a couple of weeks. However, he instead decided that “a while” would be at least 8 months. That being said, it was now the day before you and Lando would fly out to Austin for the COTA grand prix. You would be meeting up with Max for breakfast instead of lunch and then would go straight to the airport to what might possibly be one of your favourite tracks. The atmosphere was great, the racing was fun, and there was only a tiny chance that you would manage to walk around the paddock without Daniel or Logan putting a cowboy hat on your head.

A lot had happened after the 2024 season. Lewis had, of course, gone to Ferrari. Nico Hulkenberg had left Haas, leaving an empty space that Checo filled in. And he had done surprisingly well, scoring Haas’ first ever win. By the power of magic? Who knows but that man had become a hell of a good driver to be able to do that. To bring a tractor to 1st takes some skill, especially with 2 Red bulls, 1 Mercedes and 1 Ferrari still in the race.

Daniel had taken the Red Bull seat, of course, and Yuki was next in line for it. Liam had taken his place in AlphaTauri. Mercedes had seen a new addition to Formula One, with Frederik Vesti taking the Mercedes seat. It was meant to be Mick but after his Le Mans win, he realised that maybe he preferred world endurance a little more. Carlos had obviously left Ferrari with the addition of Lewis. However, instead of joining another team, he left F1 for a season to rally with his dad and would be driving again in 2026 when Valtteri was planning to do a Kimi and go do another type of racing for a couple of years. Other than that, the grid had remained the same. Max in Red Bull, George in Mercedes, Charles in Ferrari, Lando and Oscar in McLaren (Lando had signed a contract until 2027), Fernando and Lance were still in Aston Martin and were rocking it, Lance having got his first win and Fernando his first in like 10 years in 2024, along with 2 more for his collection. Pierre and Esteban still drive for Alpine, Nico for Haas, Zhou for Sauber, and Alex and Logan for Williams. Logan had done really well, too. He got a couple of podiums the previous season.

Lando still hadn't got his first win. Lots of podiums, but no wins. However, that was hardly his fault. The Red Bull, as per, absolutely ripped.

Walking into the café, you were nervous. You had no reason to be, realistically speaking. Lan had proven to you that he had absolutely no intention of leaving you because of Max, as he had proven over the past 2 years and a few months. You saw Max already there when you arrived so you took a seat at the table with him. It was mostly quiet until you both had ordered your breakfast and drinks, after which you finally spoke up. “Why have you called me here, Max? After not speaking to me for like 8 or 9 months.”

“I miss you. I miss being your twin, having you to look up to and doing dumb stuff together. I miss being the iconic non-driver grid duo. I-”

You cut him off. “Max if you're going to tell me that and then say something about me breaking up with Lando, I will leave. I will walk out of the door right now.”

“You don't need to do that. I just miss you. If you and Lando being together makes you happy, which it clearly does, then maybe I was overreacting.”

“Maybe? Max, you told him he had to choose between me and you,” you said as you took a bite of your food. “You shouted at me for being with him. Made comments about how it wouldn't last because he doesn't love people. But he loves me. He has for years. And I love him. And I just want that to be okay for someone.”

Max nodded, understanding completely why you were upset with him. He looked at you, waiting a few moments before speaking. “I accept the relationship, just so you know. I think… I have for a while, it just upset me a lot that you didn't think that you could tell me for over a year so I freaked out.”

“I think freak out is an understatement, there. Now if that's all, I have a plane to catch.”

“Wait,” he said, placing his hand on your arm to stop you leaving straight away. “It sounds silly but there is a type of counselling/therapy for family members who want to repair their bonds. I've been going to individual therapy for a year, maybe we could give at least one session of the family therapy a go, see if it helps?”

You sighed, mentally weighing the pros and cons. “Okay. One session and we will see where that takes us. I seriously have to go though, Lando is here to get me.”

You stood up, quickly paying for both of your meals despite your brother's objection. You gave him a hug before you left. COTA here we come, you thought.

The journey to America was on a private jet with some of the other drivers. Lewis had, ever so sweetly, invited you and Lando on his jet along with him (obviously), Charles, Arthur (who was racing this weekend as Charles had badly sprained his wrist the previous day but still wanted to watch his brother drive), and George. The plane ride was great, as always, you all talked and played games, you humbled your boyfriend in many games of Uno and Mario kart, you and Lewis caught up, you and Arthur gossiped, overall, it was a great plane ride.

“And Lando Norris wins the United States Grand Prix!”

You don't think you'd ever cried as much in your life as you had watching your boyfriend cross the finish line. He had tried every single race and finally, for the first time, he had come first after so much bad luck.

As the checkered flag waved and the roar of the crowd filled the air, Lando stormed across the finish line, the first-time winner of a Formula One Grand Prix. He could hear cheers through the radio from his pit crew, him equally excitedly screaming back. The euphoria of the moment engulfed him, but as he slowed his car to a stop in the pit lane, his mind was consumed by one thought: he had to find you.

In the midst of the chaos and celebration, Lando’s heart raced with anticipation as he tore off his helmet and looked towards the crowd of people waiting for him. He spotted you in the crowd quite quickly, your eyes filled with tears of joy and excitement. He didn’t hesitate to make his way to you, embracing you and lifting you off of your feet and over the barrier that separated you.

"I did it! I finally fucking did it!" Lando whispered, his voice trembling with exhilaration as he buried his head into your shoulder.

Your smile was bigger than he thought he had ever seen before as one of your hands gently played with the curls in his hair. “I knew you could do it, Lan. I’m so so proud of you,” you whispered back, your words filled with unbridled happiness as you gently rocked you both back and forth on the spot. You placed a kiss to the side of his head as you felt his tears soak through your shirt. You didn’t care, though.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of victory, the blaring of the engines, and the cheers of the crowd, you and Lando found solace in each other's arms. Your love had weathered the turbulent journey of a competitive racing world, and now, in the exhilarating embrace of a triumphant win, you both knew (or more proved to those around you) that you were destined to conquer any challenge together.

As you stood together, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of victory and the warmth of love, Lando realised that this moment was not just about his first win; it was about sharing it with the person who had been his unwavering support for years, his pillar of strength, and (by far) his biggest fan.

“Am I even allowed to be over the barrier?” You inquired quietly as Lando stayed attached to you.

“I don’t know… or care.”

“Well, put me back over, you have to hug the rest of your team and go do your interviews.”

He groaned. Very dramatically. “I don’t want to, I want to stay with you.”

“I’ll be here when you get back, darling.” You looked at him as he sighed before lifting you back over, placing a long kiss to your lips and celebrating with his team before doing his interview. The second he was done with all the podium and media obligations, though, he was dragging you back to the hotel, wanting to cuddle before you all went out to party in the evening.

Once inside the hotel room, you kissed him. His arms travelled swiftly back to your waist, guiding you backwards as he kissed back, you soon feeling your back touch the door as he crowded you against it. You deepened the kiss, hearing him groan softly as he pressed his body closer to you. His hands started to snake under your McLaren polo that you had “borrowed” from him the day previous, placing themselves on your bare waist. Your hands were in his hair, gently tugging at the curls every so often, making him let out quiet but obscene noises as you kissed. He then started moving you again, this time towards the bed.

“Are you going to sit there and continue to eye fuck me, Lando?” You asked as you adjusted the bottom of the dress that you had just changed into for the party.

He leant his head back on the wall behind the bed. “I can't help it. You look amazing.”

You chuckled, walking over to him and placing a kiss on his forehead. He responded by pulling you onto his lap. You looked at him, seeing the familiar look in his eyes. “Don't start this again, Lan.”

“Why?”

“We have a party to go to. Wait until later.”

He sighed, pulling you closer into a hug. “You're the most beautiful person in the world, you know?”

The party went as normal. You and Lando both didn't drink much but everyone else did. As usual, there was a lot of chaos caused - mostly by Max, Checo and Daniel, you were convinced that Charles would end up with alcohol poisoning with the amount that he and Lewis drank together, and Logan, Oscar and Fred almost burnt the place down.

Everything seemed (almost) perfect as you laid in bed, in your boyfriend's arms, having just celebrated his first win. Neither of you were asleep yet. Lando could tell because your breathing pattern was different when you slept. Whilst running his hand through your hair, he took in the atmosphere. The way that you softened into his embrace, the little snores you did when you slept, every little thing you did reminded him of how much he loved you.

“Marry me.”

“What?” You said, head instantly snapping up towards your boyfriend.

He was already looking at you. “Marry me.”

You sat up, him leaning over to switch the bedside lamp on. He returned to look at you, holding a ring in his hand. You were dumbfounded. “Lan.”

He looked into your eyes, placing his forehead against yours before beginning to speak, softly. “I don't want you to think this was the spur of the moment. This sounds silly but I've had this ring for like a year and a half. I've just been waiting for the right moment. And this feels like the right moment. If you don't want to, or feel it's too soon, I completely get it. But if you do, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He smiled, genuinely, watching as a tear fell down your face. “Please don't cry, it's okay.”

“Yes.”

“Yes as in yes you'll Marry me or you think it's too soon?” He asked, voice soft as he felt a glimmer of hope in his chest

“Yes, as in yes, I will marry you, Lando.”

Now everything was perfect.

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youruser

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and others

youruser: My boy won his first race finally!! So so proud of him, so here's a Lando appreciation post ❤❤

tagged: landonorris

-comments limited-

landonorris: I love you xx

youruser: I love you too xx

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landonorris

liked by youruser, mclaren and others

landonorris: Soulmate appreciation post because she's not the only one allowed to be sappy on the main. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with this beautiful woman ❤❤

tagged: youruser

-view all comments-

youruser: You're stuck with me now x

landonorris: Wouldn't have it any other way x

mclaren: Congratulations!! Welcome to the McLaren family officially (although you were already in it to us), future Mrs. Norris

youruser: My favourite sm admin, thank you x

-The End-

-Word Count: 2,230 (ish)-

Hi, Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this mini series x If anyone has any requests for one-shots, possible series, etc about drivers, please feel free to request. You can do so by clicking on my profile and there should be a requests/questions box. Have a good day x Alocon

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wardenparker · 6 months ago

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Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 15

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 10k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Tooth-decaying sweetness, talk of pregnancy/impregnation, unexpected visitor, references to rough sex, possessiveness. Oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: After almost a year together, you and Marcus celebrate your first Valentine's Day together with a weekend trip away. Notes: We are inching closer to the wedding with every chapter! This week enjoy some sex and romance, Pike style.

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

The flight from Dulles to JFK would be shorter, but there’s a certain charm to taking the train. The rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the track is almost romantic and Marcus had secured an entire compartment for you, him and Agent Sellers. Agent Bailey will meet you in New York with a car and to trade off with your other security detail, but for now, it seems like it’s just the two of you in the car. “Hotel first?” Marcus asks, kissing your fingertips and you look out the window at the passing scenery.

“Because you want to drop off our bags or because you want to test out the mattress?” Either way the answer is yes, and you relax in your seat all over again. This idea to go away for a few days for Valentine’s Day had made you feel guilty at first, but you were easy to convince once you remembered that it was around Valentine’s last year that everything has started to happen between you. Now that chaos of finishing the house and moving in together is over with, a couple of days in New York sounded perfect.

"I do need to see if your legs look different on my shoulders in New York than in D.C." he teases, wagging his eyebrows playfully. "Three days of no house details, no work, and all we have to worry about is walking out of our hotel room dressed."

“And making our reservations on time.” With your fingers tangled through his, this time you pull his hand over to kiss his fingers instead. “I may have called in a favor for our dinner tonight.”

"Where are we having dinner?" He had left the dinner reservations up to you, knowing you would have a list of favorite places you would want to go.

"Tonight we're going to see a friend," you hum, leaning into him as much as you can in your seat as the train speeds toward New York. "One of Syd's friends from culinary school opened a restaurant right in the city a couple of years ago and I've just never gotten the chance to go up and try it out. So I called in a favor and got us a reservation for after the theater tonight. Neo is an Italian steakhouse, which sounded right up your alley."

"Nice." He's impressed by the idea of a nice steakhouse that is close to you and Sydney. His hand slides down to your thigh and he squeezes it gently.

"And then tomorrow night..." Your hand over his on your thigh is basically just grounding. Holding you to him and making sure you don't float away on the bliss of having some time off with your fiancé. "Every time we watch FoodTV you get obsessed with watching Alex Guarnaschelli, so I got us a reservation at Butter."

"Really?" His eyes widen in delight and he can't believe that you would go through the trouble for something like that. It's the small things that you notice that makes him feel special. You do so many little things that show him you pay attention to his interests, passing or intense. "That's— wow." He shakes his head. "Thank you."

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. The train ride was a special treat but now that you’re almost in the city you’re eager for your trip to really begin. “I love you more than anything.”

"I love you too." He leans his own head against yours. "I booked our tickets to the Met." He tells you quickly, knowing you will like that.

“I’m sooooo excited for museum time with my own personal art expert.” He claims he isn’t, but you’ve learned in the last year not to listen to his protests. He practically gives guided tours whenever you go to the Smithsonian together.

He rolls his eyes playfully but he doesn’t naysay. He knows that you look at it as a point of pride almost. “Anything else you want to do? I think it’s a little too cold to take a boat out in Central Park.”

"There are a million museums and historical sites." And you can't wait to explore each and every one of them with him. "It's just too bad it's too early in the year for a ball game."

“We can always make a summer day trip.” Marcus immediately offers. “Maybe the subway series?”

"That would be fun." You perk up instantly at the idea of it. "The MET is tomorrow, so how about we ask the concierge at the hotel what their favorite underrated attraction is for today before the theater?"

“That sounds good.” He agrees. “Something that is kind of off the beaten path sounds fun.”

The last hour of the trip is smooth sailing, and early check-in at your hotel means that you and Marcus are unpacking your suitcases in almost no time. It’s snowy in New York but not in a way that will add up, and it makes the whole thing look quite picturesque from your seventh-floor window.

“Too bad the fireplaces have been closed for years.” Marcus comments. “Couldn’t you imagine curling up next to a fire and watching the snow fall?”

“Next year let’s rent a cabin,” you hum, leaning back in his arms as you look out the window together. “Get snowed in.”

“That sounds like something we can definitely do.” For the suggestion, you deserve a kiss. “Unless you are pregnant. Then I don’t know if I would want to risk it.”

“If I’m pregnant we’ll choose a very easily accessible hotel where we can watch the snow fall instead.” His concern is sweet enough to earn him a kiss in return, and they’re getting longer every time. “Someplace where we can get snacks delivered.”

“Pregnancy cravings.” Marcus practically moons at the idea and he cups your cheeks to kiss you again.

“So…I’ve been thinking about something.” This calls for a face to face conversation, and you turn around in his arms.

“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t think that it’s anything bad, you come to him when something heavy is on your mind. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking, sweetheart.”

The two of you have always agreed that the timing of your lives needed to be a joint conversation, but somehow you don’t think this particular idea is going to need much debating. Not much if any, knowing Marcus. “I think I’d like to stop taking my birth control the day before the wedding,” you tell him, slipping both arms around his waist. “I know it might not happen for us immediately, but I think everything else has fallen into place for us so maybe this might, too.”

Marcus tilts his head, a slow smile spreading over his face and lighting it up. “Yeah? You want to do that?” He asks quietly. “I— I think that’s perfect.” He admits. “As long as you are ready.”

You're glowing as you lean into him, already feeling like you could burst with happiness and pride. "I'd say we should start now but there's no way my wedding dress will fit me if I'm pregnant."

“I want you to be able to drink a toast at our wedding if we can help it.” Marcus admits.

"Especially since you went through all the trouble to pick out good toasting champagne with the wedding planner." It had been an entire conversation of wine pairings and champagne choices that you hadn't understood a word of but watching Marcus get excited about tasting notes had been well worth it.

“I think you will enjoy it. It will go well with our wedding cake.” He reminds you, knowing you are excited for the replica cake the bakery in Boston had fallen over over themselves to agree to bake.

"I'm excited for everything to come together." After so easily picking out bridesmaids' dresses last weekend and even finding a mother of the bride dress at the same shop, the wedding is feeling like everything is really falling into place. "Last things are to pick a place for the rehearsal dinner and to book our honeymoon."

“We’ve had so many ideas for our honeymoon…” he laughs quietly, remembering all the various places you’ve both come up with. “Have we actually decided on where we are going to go?”

"I think we've talked about almost every place on earth," you laugh right along with him. "But no. We haven't decided. I think the last time we talked we said it should be someplace that neither of us have been."

“Maybe we need to make a honeymoon wheel.” Marcus snorts. “Have you seen the trend where a guy will make a restaurant wheel to spin when their girlfriend or wife can’t decide?” He shrugs. “We could do the same thing with our honeymoon ideas.”

“Hotel room crafts.” It’s silly and sweet enough of an idea to make you giggle, and you press more kisses to Marcus’s lips and cheeks. “I don’t know about making a wheel, but we could do slips of paper with destinations on them in the ice bucket instead of a hat.”

“Like a lottery drawing.” He snorts. “That could be fun.”

“I have a notebook in my purse.” Which doesn’t surprise him one bit, but you tug Marcus back into the room from the window. “Grab the ice bucket?”

“In a minute.” He smirks and his hands slide from your waist to your ass. “You remember what I told you I wanted to do on the train?” He coos, leaning in and kissing your neck.

“Mmmmhmm.” A soft moan of approval and agreement sounds from deep in your throat, but you feel like teasing him just a tiny bit. “Something about…shoulders?”

“Your legs, my shoulders.” He grinds his hips against yours, his hardening cock proof of his desire and he smirks. “I need to see if you taste different in New York.”

It is pretty much never difficult to convince either of you when a good time to be intimate has appeared, and you nudge him backward again toward the bed. “Then why are we still wearing clothes?”

“That’s a good question.” He goes willingly and he reaches for the edge of your sweater to pull it up. “You’re wearing far too many of them right now.”

Sweaters, t-shirts, pants, and everything else end up scattered around the room, littering the carpet with evidence of the romance in the air. Marcus has you laid out on your back on the bed in no time and you happily tug him down to you for a kiss when he climbs in with you.

“My gorgeous hummingbird.” His hands slide over your clavicle and he kisses your collar bone gently. Worshipfully. “My love, my soulmate.”

“I love you.” Simple words, but meant with all the feeling in the world as your limbs curl around him and you melt under his kisses.

“I. Love. You. Too.” Every word is punctuated by a kiss. Making sure that he teases and caresses your skin with his lips.

“Baby.” After almost a year together, you and Marcus have no trouble finding the right buttons to push. You know each other’s favorite things, each other’s ticks and hidden kinks. You know Marcus adores being showered in praise just you like him to have a firm hand. The flow of your relationship has been built on respect and trust and mutual admiration. Which has made experimenting and finding the things you enjoy together all the more rewarding.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Marcus pops his head up, eyes dark and fixed on you. “What do you want me to give you, sweet thing? I’ll give you anything you want, you just have to tell me.”

"Just you, baby." Anything and everything he is will to give you is always what you want. Just him. As much of Marcus as he is willing and able to pour into you any time you have moments to yourself.

“You have me, baby. You’ve got all of me.” He groans, adding to teeth to his kisses as he starts to move down your body.

"All of me." It's so true. And true for both of you. The complete devotion you have to each other is obvious. Lying naked wrapped in each other's arms might be the most honest and most vulnerable you ever are, and there is no one in the world you are more grateful to share that feeling with.

Marcus groans, your words of affirmation and affection always affect him, but none like they do when you are both stripped bare. When there is nothing between you but the air and your beating hearts. He drops a featherlight kiss on your stomach, which will one day hopefully protect his children, and then down to your hip.

"We really need to start asking hotels if they have sound proof rooms," you giggle, already sighing as Marcus moves lower and lower on your body.

"Let them hear." He chuckles, never having a problem with others knowing how satisfied you are. He brings your leg up onto his shoulder as he settles between your thighs and he licks his lips as he parts your folds to expose the sensitive little clit that he will lavish with attention.

The touch of his fingers makes you gasp, but you still chuckle despite yourself and know that you'll hold back more here than you do at home. Having the house finally be finished has been a blessing. "Last thing we need is a sound bite of the First Daughter getting eaten out."

"Then it's a good thing they don't have access to those little videos we've made, isn't it?" He smirks, having enjoyed the clips of sexy scenes both of you had made together and while you were apart to send to each other. They were in a locked file and heavily guarded so no one could get to them.

"Well I don't want you to miss me while you're on a long case," you rationalize, letting out another deep sigh as his finger paints a long stripe along your slit.

"Oh I always miss you." He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose against your clit before he samples a small taste of your essence.

He knows how to make you moan. He knows as well as he knows his own name. And yet the first moment your back lifts off the mattress always takes you by surprise and you have to remind yourself not to squeeze his head too tight between your thighs when they clench with that first feeling of pleasure. "Fuck, baby."

The noises you make are always so fucking sweet. He’s addicted to them, to you. His own groan is sounded into your pussy as his tongue flutters around, sweeping the edges of your folds in a pattern that always makes you whine.

The fingers of one hand twist into his curls and you’re prepared to thank every possible god all over again that Marcus has been growing out his hair. It’s all his own style of course, but you don’t mind having a handle to keep him close as he devours your pussy every chance he gets.

The small whine of pleasure that he gives at the pressure of your hand in his hair is one you thoroughly enjoy and he gives you that sound every time his cock twitches against the bed. Making him even more eager in his task as he flicks his tongue over your soaked hole.

Curses and praise and moans of pleasure fill the room, babble verging on incoherent as Marcus plays you with as much skill as his bass or guitar. It’s the w of pleasure that makes you feel like you’re floating all the way above the mattress. It’s ecstasy, all on the curls and flicks of your soulmate’s tongue.

Marcus has always enjoyed sex, enjoyed giving and receiving pleasure, but there is something incredibly unique about his intimacy with you. There is a fusion of your bodies that match your souls, where your pleasure magnifies his own and he gets lost in it.

You shatter for him as easily as breathing, although in the moment you come apart you’ve replaced panted breaths with an orgasm so intense that your mind goes blank as you sob his name into the bright white afternoon. It’s almost like being at peace, the way he breaks you apart and puts you back together with tender caresses and loving kisses, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your come down is his favorite part of foreplay. The pliant limbs and pleasure warmed skin. He loves the dazed look in your eyes, as if you are surprised by how good you feel. “Maybe I need another taste.” He murmurs against your lips.

“Babyyy.” You whine and grab his shoulder when he ducks his head like he’s going to travel down your body again. “Don’t you need to see if I ride you just as well in New York?”

He stops, tilts his head as if he is considering that point before he sighs. Making it seem like it’s a big concession on his part. “I think that needs to be explored too.” You love to ride him and he always lets you be in control when you want it, since so often you want him in control.

“It seems very important.” You nod in agreement, grinning lazily to see his eyes light up at the prospect of having your tits in his face while you bounce on him.

He comes back up to kiss you thoroughly before rolling onto his back. His hard cock laying against his stomach as he reaches out and caresses your side. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

It’s just teasing, but you straddle his waist and lean over to press a kiss over his heart before shifting back into position. “That’s a very dangerous thing to promise your fiancée.”

“Not at all.” His hands find your waist and he squeezes gently. “I mean every word.”

“Dangerous.” You admonish him again with a tsk, but sink down on his length all the same — making both of you gasp and moan in unison.

Marcus’s eyes flutter closed with a silent prayer of thanks. His fingers digging into your flesh and for a second, he wishes you were already off your birth control. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” He groans when you roll your hips in a little circle and clench down around him.

“Fuck, you always feel so fucking good.” Letting your head fall back makes it feel like he’s gotten all the way up into your throat and your whole body tightens like a bowstring in response.

“That’s because you’re so perfect.” He groans in appreciation, rocking his hips up. “Tightest little cunt I’ve ever fucked.” He flashes a grin and twitches inside you. “Last little cunt I’ll ever fuck too.”

"All yours." As many times as you promise him that, it never diminishes how much you mean it. He has your whole heart for your whole life. "All yours and you're all mine and fuck you have the best cock in the world."

He chuckles, proud of your happiness with his abilities. His hand slides up your neck to cup the back of your head as he drags you down for a kiss.

The rhythm you set is quick but thorough, making sure to rise and fall on every inch of him to swallow his moans in equally thorough kisses.

He loves when you ride him. Your tits bounce and your kisses are greedy, leaving him to touch you how he wants to while you use his cock for your pleasure. “Fuck, baby.” He grunts, twitching when you swivel your hips.

The figure eights you draw in his lap are his favorite. They always have been. They're brilliantly drawn out and exaggerated to leave him groaning and greedy, pawing at you as you bounce on him. It's greedy for both of you in different ways, which is probably why this is one of your favorite positions.

“You’re teasing me.” Marcus huffs, lunging up to capture one tit in his mouth and scrape his teeth over your sensitive nipple.

"You — ah! — love when I tease you." And since he's so good at teasing you back, you don't ever hesitate.

Marcus just groans against your breast and slaps your ass playfully. Rocking you harder on his cock as his mouth works your breast.

It’s the hungry kind of sex where you know you’ll be sticky and sweaty and need a shower after. Where you know Marcus is going to leave teeth marks pebbling your skin. Where you know without a shadow of a doubt that you’ll be achy and feeling him in your theater seat tonight. And it’s exactly the right kind of fierceness for both of you, so you amp up your pace and throw your head back, letting the bliss of it all wash over you. Lovemaking is what you’ll do tonight, with moonlight streaming through the windows and soft touches and whispered promises. This is a deeply cathartic and energizing fuck — the perfect way to start your weekend.

“Fuck.” Marcus hisses and his fingers slide down to find your clit. Sensing the urgency to your pace and knowing how badly he wants to see you fall apart for him before he finds his own release.

Your whine of agreement is high from the added touch. His fingertips are calloused, giving you added friction as well as added tension, and every time you roll your hips you get more pressure and friction. It's stunning, the way he drives you toward the edge of that cliff of pleasure, and your head spins from how close you are.

“That’s it baby, you’re so good to me.” Marcus groans, loving how you just give him everything you’ve got. “So pretty on my cock. You gonna cum for me? You know I want to see it. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

"I'm so close baby." So close that you feel like you're about to fall over onto his chest from the way you're tensing up. Every part of you is tense, right down to the way your greedy cunt is clamping down on his cock.

“That’s it, fuck- you’re so tight.” Marcus hisses, watching you as your hips stutter and your shoulders start to shake. “So good baby, want to feel you.”

"Fuck, fuck, oh my god, Marcus!" The freedom to cry out, even though you joked about volume earlier, isn't lost on you. The way you tense and shatter and cry his name is his favourite music in the world.

He can’t help himself. Lunging up, he presses his lips to yours desperately and rolls you over to keep pistoning his hips and drilling into your spasming walls. Working you higher through your orgasm and chasing his own.

It would be a whole different ballgame if you were already off your birth control, but you still want Marcus to cum inside you. There's no better or more indulgent feeling in the world, so you wrap your legs around his waist and shake with the last waves of your own orgasm knowing that it will bring him toward his own.

“I love you, I love you. I love you.” Marcus begins to chant as his hips rock forward desperately, barely pulling back as he feels his body pull tight.

"I love you." Those words never diminish, especially not when he's driving his hips forward to bury his cock deep inside you, coating your walls with his searing hot release.

He whines your name as he rides out the release of every tense bone in his body. Pouring himself into you as he collapses against you. “Fuck.” He huffs, face buried against your neck and panting softly. “Always.” He murmurs, kissing a damp patch of skin over your pulse.

“Always.” A fact which leaves you breathless and tangled up in each other more often than not. Right now you hold him tight, hanging on to a confessional sigh. “I almost wish I was off my birth control already,” you admit quietly.

“Me too.” He chuckles because the two of you seem to always be so in sync about your goals and desires. “But we know that it would be better to keep to our original timeline.”

"It's a nice dream, though." Your fingers run up his shoulder and through his hair, and the softness in your eyes is pure adoration when your eyes meet again. "And I can't wait for it to come true."

“I know.” He smiles softly as he presses his lips to yours. “You know I’m going to be feral over you.” He warns. “Not going to be able to stop touching you.”

"Oh nooo." The laugh in your voice is as joyous as your smile but you toss a tone of sarcasm into your teasing. "That will be terrible. I just hate when my fiancé, the sexiest man in the whole world, wants to fuck me."

“You might hate sex while you are pregnant.” He huffs, knowing he would hate it, but he would never pressure you to sleep with him if you don’t feel like it. From what he can tell, it’s hard work to grow a human.

"I don't think I will." Of course, you can't be sure. But as you stretch your neck to kiss him again you enjoy the image tucked away in your mind. "I think I'm going to melt in your arms every single time like I already do."

“I love you.” The simple words are more vow than statement, completely true and undeniable. Luckily, the nasty rumors have tapered off and you have been able to enjoy the wedding planning so far.

"I love you, too." It doesn't take much surging to kiss him one more time, and then you're grinning all over again. "Now...how do you feel about naked honeymoon planning?"

“Naked anything with you is good for me.” He jokes. “Unless it’s frying bacon.”

"Aprons when we cook." You quote Sydney with a grin. "I think I can walk. I'll grab the notebook from my purse and we can write down the ideas we're serious about?"

“If you can’t, I’ll grab it for you.” He smirks, a little pleased when you are unsteady on your feet climbing out of the bed after he rolls off of you.

"Why don't you grab the ice bucket, baby?" Your purse is much closer to the bed than anything else, so it barely takes you two shaky steps before you're slumping back onto the mattress with a grin.

“Can’t make it, can you?” He chuckles as he stands up and crosses over to the desk where the ice bucket is located.

"Shut up." A playful little huff and a pout comes from the bed as you stick your tongue out at him. So what if you barely made it? You managed to grab your notebook and a pen and that's what matters. "You fucked me so good I can't walk, be nice."

He winks at you. “I fucked you so good you can’t walk because I’m nice.”

"I love you very much, now come and get back in bed," you stick your tongue out again and pick up your pen. "So what are your top choices. Are we doing top three each or top five?"

“I say we do five.” Marcus suggests, grinning as he saunters back over and plops down beside you with the bucket. “And then we use the bucket idea for the next nine anniversaries.”

"That's actually super cute." So much that it earns him a kiss when he comes and sits back down with you. A sheet of paper from your notebook is torn up into ten strips, and you hand him five. "I'm thinking my top five are Paris, Scotland, Napa Valley, New Zealand..." You grin unapologetically. "And Disney."

He shakes his head, faking a disappointed pout. “No naked honeymoon in Disney.” He grumbles. “We would be banned and then our kids would never forgive us.”

“We can still be naked in the hotel,” you remind him, grinning unapologetically as you drop the last destination into the ice bucket.

“Yeah, yeah.” He swats your thigh gently and sighs. “So I need to pick other destinations, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Being done before him lets you lay back in the pillows and idly stir the slips in the ice bucket while he thinks.

“Okay, okay…” he takes the notepad you’ve left on the bed and writes on the first one. “Ireland.” He shoots you a grin. “It’s different from Scotland.”

“Yes, it is.” You smirk at him, wondering if he’s going to pick places near all of yours.

“Let’s see…” He taps his chin. “Ohhhh Bora Bora would be good.” He scribbles it down. “Fruity alcoholic drinks, and tiny bikinis for you the entire time.”

That earns a grin from you, and you lean over to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Tiny bikinis are a favorite vacation theme for you.”

“It’s as close to naked as I can get you.” He huffs. “Unlessssss…” Marcus flashes you a teasing grin. “We go to one of those nudist resorts. Should I write Hedonism II down?”

“You try explaining that to my mother when she asks for vacation photos,” you snort, knowing that that choice would go over like screen doors on a submarine.

“Yeah…no to Hedonism.” He doesn’t write that, but he pretends to and mimes ripping the sheet out and balling it up. “How about Chile?” He asks, tilting his head curiously. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Atacama Desert or Easter Island.”

“Chile would be gorgeous. It’s too bad we couldn’t bring your bike down with us.” The image makes you hum, and your shoot him a grin. Marcus sitting astride his motorcycle in any setting just does things to you. “We’ll have to rent one when we go.”

“Absolutely.” He has rediscovered his love of having a woman on the back of his bike and often will bring you along if you can get away for a quick drive in the evenings.

“So…Ireland, Bora Bora, Chile,” you prompt him, tucking off your fingers. “Two more.”

“Greece.” Marcus decides and sends you a small smirk. “Rome.” He writes them down as well so they can be added to the trip bucket.

“Alright.” Dropping each slip into the ice bucket and stirring it around, you give it a few shakes for good measure before holding it high above either of your sight lines and angling it toward Marcus. “Go ahead. What’s our honeymoons going to be?”

Marcus grins and takes the bucket from your hands. “Let’s not pick now.” He teases. “Why don’t we pick at the end of our vacation?”

“You live to torture me!” You groan dramatically, dropping the ice bucket between you. “Do you really want to wait?”

“You don’t want to?” He teases, leaning in and kissing you playfully. “I guess we can decide now.” He rolls his eyes and picks the bucket up. “You choose. That way you can’t blame me.”

"Blame he says, as though they aren't all great choices." It calls for blowing a raspberry in his general direction, but you dip your hand into the ice bucket high above your head and swirl your fingers around to snag a single slip of paper. "Here we go," you intone dramatically, pulling the slip open and wiggling it around. "Looks like it's going to beeee..." Flipping the paper up, you grin at him. "Scotland!"

Marcus laughs at the glee on your face, knowing he would be happy going anywhere with you. “A stone cottage in the Scottish highlands where we walk the moors and burrow into each other in front of a roaring fire sounds perfect.” He puts on a thick Scottish accent for the dramatic flair.

"We can see the Highlands and the cities and go all over." Actually having a location picked out makes you giggle with excitement, and you lean over to kiss him before practically jumping out of bed. "Just like we can go explore this city right now. With clothes, of course."

“Now she can walk.” Marcus groans, climbing out of the bed after you. “What do you want to do before Ellis Island?”

"We should check what time the ferry runs." The concierge downstairs had given you a few ideas but ultimately you had decided to take the trip out to Ellis and Liberty Islands. It’s an important piece of American history and Agent Bailey won’t admit to it but she’s excited to look up her family from their crossing. "Why don't we grab a quick lunch? Give ourselves back some of the energy that we just burned off?"

“That sounds perfect.” He agrees, unable to resist grabbing a handful of your ass when you bend down to pick up your clothes. “Build up reserves for tonight.”

It's hardly a surprise when you and Marcus end up in a little café halfway between your hotel and the ferry to Ellis Island, ready to feast on French bistro classics for lunch. It's warm in the picturesque little restaurant and the snow is still falling without collecting on the sidewalk, so it's a picture-perfect winter day in the city.

“I think it’s safe to say that I will have to have the French onion soup.” Marcus tells you as he looks over the menu. “At least to start. What about you?”

"I think it's going to be a boeuf bourguignon day," you hum, spotting the item on the lunch menu and salivating over it immediately.

“Would you hate me for hurting Thumper if I had the rabbit cassoulet for the main?” He’s grinning and shrugging slightly.

"Not if you won't hate me for having cute little escargot for my first course." The one time he had expressed finding snails cute had obviously stuck with you, and since they're one of your favorite gourmet treats, it's a fair trade.

He huffs in feigned offense and sighs dramatically. “I suppose.” He jokes. “It’s only fair and I know it makes you happy.”

"What do you want to see first at the MET tomorrow?" The café is buzzing around you but you're happy in your little bubble. Just you and Marcus, cuddled together and happily plotting out the rest of your day.

“I’m not picky?” Marcus asks, playing with your fingers. “But Lady with a Parot and Perseus.” He rattles off with a guilty grin.

"Not picky, but two very specific choices." You grin at him, charmed all over again by the beauty and relaxation of the day. Agent Bailey is enjoying herself at a table across the café, also doing her best to relax despite being in the busy city. "Okay, you're on. And I want to track down Madame X."

“The American Wing.” Marcus instantly replies.

"That's my man." Of course he knows, that doesn't surprise you at all.

What does surprise you is the woman walking behind the hostess, currently approaching your table to be seated right next to you. "Vanessa?" Of all the gin joints in all the world, you think ruefully, but it's been so long since you heard from either her or Sam that you're just sort of shell shocked to see her instead of upset or angry about it.

Marcus turns to see the ex that he had hoped to never run into again - even more than Teresa - and wonders what the hell is about to happen. He warily glances behind her and around the smaller café. “This is a surprise.” He intones dryly.

“Just a coincidence.” Vanessa promises. She thanks the hostess and takes a seat, though she wishes there was literally any other table left. “I’m just having a bite after class. Forget I’m here.”

“Class?” That catches Marcus’s attention and he glances over at you to make sure that you are comfortable continuing the conversation. He feels like if there’s a change in the dynamic of your foes, you should learn all you can.

You nod subtly, but Vanessa doesn’t catch it. She’s thanking the waitress for her water. “Class,” she confirms when the waitress is gone. “I’m getting my master’s. I—” she looks between you, her former foes, and shrugs slightly. “A lot has changed.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” There’s no pressure to be applied, but it’s an offer. An olive branch, just like the one extended at the engagement party.

That’s a bit of a sticky question, but Vanessa nods. Her own is far less subtle than yours, as it’s meant to be seen. “I left Sam,” she begins, feeling that that is the most important news. “He was…he was getting out of control. There was never going to be an end to it as long as he had people on his side.”

Marcus squeezes your hand gently, the confirmation of it being on purpose was right there between the lines. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly. “When you said you had discovered your soulmate, it was Sam, wasn’t it?”

“It was.” Vanessa confirms. There’s no reason to beat around the bush after everything that’s happened. “He’s just…he’s not the man he was when I first fell in love with him. Not anymore.”

“Vanessa….” Marcus sighs softly. “What was the root of the issue? We didn’t cheat. Why was Sam so obsessed with hurting us?” He phrases it that way so she doesn’t feel like he’s attacking her, and because he honestly never really imagined Vanessa being the ringleader. Now it seems as if she was a hopeless idealist, blindly following her soulmate down the wrong path.

She sighs, biting her lip slightly, and looking between you both with regret shining in her eyes. "Birdie was supposed to be his ticket to the White House," she admits, although the confession isn't hers to make. "When Marcus appeared on the scene he started getting paranoid, and then...then when you broke up with him? He seemed like he was just taking it a little too hard in the beginning but he started to go down a dark path pretty quickly."

“Did he hurt you?” Marcus’s voice gets soft, his jaw tense at the idea of violence perpetrated against any woman, even one who has wronged him. “Or made threats against Birdie we should know about?”

"No. No, he never would have had the resolve to hurt me physically. And the only threats he made never worked out." Vanessa assures him. "The worst founded one was the engagement party. Whatever you two and your social media team did to get ahead of that, well done."

“You went along with it because he’s your soulmate?” Marcus guesses. “The rumors and the whispers that were being fed from somewhere?”

"I can't exactly defend myself." Vanessa twists in her chair to face you fully, so this conversation can be quiet. "I was jealous."

"Of me...for being with the man you were in love with." You finish her thought without effort, understanding the instinct fully but from the opposite direction. "I was jealous of you. When you were with Marcus. We just...we had things switched around, I guess."

Marcus frowns, never realizing that she had been so involved with her feelings in the brief relationship. “I thought…you were waiting for your soulmate and just having fun with me?”

"I was trying to get over Sam." This is bound to be an uncomfortable conversation of confessions for Vanessa, but she is going to tell the truth. "In a sense you were a rebound for a relationship I never had. And when I realized who my soulmate was I thought everything was finally going to work out the way I wanted. But...that was even more wrong than I ever could have guessed."

“I’m sorry.” Marcus murmurs softly. “I hope that one day, you find the love and happiness you have been searching for.”

"I think I have to love myself first." Vanessa shrugs her shoulders and laughs. "I know that sounds cheesy, but...I started seeing a therapist and I got myself into grad school, and taking control of my own life has been really good for me."

“That’s great.” Marcus assures her, squeezing your hand again and glancing at you. “I can tell you that therapy will be good for you. Doesn’t matter what you’re going through. Sometimes it’s good to just learn how to cope with life.”

"I'm doing my best." Marcus has always been a kind man. It's good to know that that is just who he is, and that Vanessa hadn't been so blinded to people's good natures as to have misjudged him at any point. "I really want to apologize to both of you. Some of the things we did...that I did for him...were truly despicable. If I could take it all back, I would."

It’s not his place to accept an apology, especially when most of the attacks were focused on you. He squeezes your hand again, and defers to you.

"I wish we could have made amends sooner." You tell her, gently squeezing Marcus's hand in return. "But I'm glad that things are looking up for you, Vanessa. And I hope they continue to go in a positive direction. Nobody deserves to be defined by their mistakes when they're trying to better themselves."

It’s a gracious acceptance of the offered apology and so on point for who you are that Marcus wants to kiss you. “I completely agree.” He adds. “You focus on yourself and things will work out for the best.”

"That's very kind of both of you." And probably more than she deserves, but Vanessa isn't going to split hairs when she's stumbled into the chance to move forward. "And very diplomatic. It's...it's very easy to see, from the outside, why you're such a beloved couple." A fact which had made you both difficult to tear down, and is probably why Sam failed so entirely.

“We had some not so diplomatic moments.” Marcus admits, feeling that she is owed some truth as well. “But we aren’t going to punish you for mistakes that you are owning up to and trying to rectify.”

"Thank you." Vanessa half-smiles, looking around the small café, and makes the decision for herself with a small feeling of relief letting her shoulders relax for the first time in longer than she cares to admit. "I should let you enjoy your lunch," she says after a pause, and she stands. "It...was good to run into you. To clear the air."

“Good luck.” He won’t ask her to stay and continue the conversation and neither will you, but he wishes her well as she gathers her things.

"That was...unexpected." You murmur, watching Vanessa cross the street outside quickly, and duck into a pub instead of the little café you're still sitting in.

“Yeah.” Marcus blows out a breath and picks up your other hand. “How do you feel about it?”

"Weirdly...good?" It feels awful to admit, but getting an apology from someone who was actively trying to ruin your life not so long ago feels incredibly settling. "Or at least it feels validating. To know that we weren't crazy in thinking that Sam really was trying to hurt us so actively." It also feels awful to know that you were right about your ex not caring about you during your entire relationship, but that is a separate issue.

He sees the frown and he brings your hands up to kiss them gently. “At least we know now. You know.”

“Knowing is good.” You can agree to that, even as downtrodden as you feel right now. You got out of the relationship, found your soulmate, and are getting married. Everything is falling into place in the best way possible. But the sticky, icky, despicable sensation in your chest at being used isn’t exactly nice. “It still doesn’t feel good, though.”

“No it doesn’t.” He knows that feeling in a sense. Looking back at things objectively, it seemed like Teresa used him to prod Jane along, to pull his buried feelings out of him. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?” He asks softly, hating how your shoulders are rounded and your voice has dipped down.

“No.” This awful feeling will pass, you’ll regain your good humor, and this weekend won’t be ruined by a chance encounter in a restaurant. You won’t let it happen. “Let’s enjoy our lunch.”

He wants to ask if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. Giving you a reassuring smile, he glances towards the waiter. “How about a glass of wine?”

Determined to smile and to not be upset over a relationship that you ended willingly to begin with, you sit up your seat, roll your shoulders back, and turn your eyes back to Marcus. “Something bubbly, I think? We’re on vacation, after all.”

He smiles and nods. “I think that is completely appropriate. And it looks like they have a nice champagne on the menu.”

“Perfect.” You squeeze Marcus’s hand gently, thanking him for sticking with you through the tidal waves of clashing emotions you’re dealing with.

“Not nearly as perfect as you are.” There’s an odd sense of relief to have that chapter firmly closed, at least on Vanessa’s end. “Hopefully nothing else will happen.”

“Fingers crossed.” Huffing a soft laugh, you just shrug your shoulders and get in with ordering your lunch. It does no good to dwell and ruin the time away you have with Marcus. No good at all.

Panting, Marcus stares at the ceiling, nearly giggling at the bubbly, blissed out exhaustion that settles in the very marrow of his body. “Good girl.” He praises. “Good fucking girl.” Your own body is collapsed in a spent heap and he trails his fingers over your spine as you come down from the last, most intense orgasm of the night.

A matching giggle bubbles out of you as you curl into his side, utterly spent and gazing up at him with moony eyes. “Baby…” you laugh again, and half-turn toward him lamely. Your wrists are still bound with the tie he wore out to dinner. “Can I have my hands back?”

“Maybe I like you all bound up for me.” He teases, turning and working on the knots that are now harder than what he had originally tied because of you pulling and tugging on the restraint. Eager to touch him and frustrated by your inability to do so. “Next time I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“We’ll be back in our big four poster at home tomorrow night.” With your hands free, you loop your arms around his neck to kiss him soundly. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

“There’s something about being at home, isn’t there?” He asks, his hand coming up and tenderly caressing your throat where he had held it as he pounded into you. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Perfect level of rough,” you promise. Experimenting with his more dominant side had turned into a much-loved habit over your year together, and though you don’t get rough every single time you have sex it is definitely something you both enjoy.

“Do you need anything, sweetheart?” He asks. “Water, a rag?” Sometimes you like to keep his cum inside you, sometimes you like to clean up right after. And after every rough session, he likes to dote on you.

“I should say water.” Your eyes gleam with mischief. “But do we have any more wine? That bottle we bought in the Village was amazing.”

He smirks at your cheeky response and leans in to bite your bottom lip. “Sure.” He hums before he is climbing off the bed to get the lovely wine the two of you indulged in before your romp.

Tonight is one of those nights that you both indulged in the fantasy of getting pregnant, and lying in bed with a glass of wine with the sticky slick combination of your cum slowly dripping from your pussy sounds like pure indulgence. Plus you stashed Marcus’s Valentine’s gift in the bedside table, so there’s that too. You grab it now and slip it under your pillow, waiting for him to come back.

Pouring two glasses he turns back to admire your sprawled form as he bites his lip. It’s Valentine’s Day and the two of you have completely indulged today. Now, he needs to give you the gift he had picked out months ago.

“What’s that look for?” You hum, grinning back at him when he returns to your side in bed. “Did you suddenly remember how amazingly lucky I am to have you as my soulmate?”

“More like I remember how lucky I am.” He retorts. “I have a wonderful, sexy woman who indulges my desires and matches them.”

“So I guess we’re both lucky, then.” He hands you your glass and you take a sip, glad that you opted for a white wine tonight so you won’t accidentally ruin the sheets if you get playful. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He smiles as he leans in to take a kiss from your wine soaked lips. “Have you enjoyed our weekend away?”

“To me it’s been perfect.” There are more kisses for both of you, never able to have enough of tasting or even just being near each other. “Have you enjoyed it too?”

“Hell yes I have.” He promises. “It’s been an incredible weekend, one we needed. No work, just us.”

“I’m just glad we both got through the weekend without any work emergencies.” The inn is in good hands, as Selena has finished her training to become your new manager and she and Malachi are running the place as smoothly as ever between them in your absence.

“Yeah, me too.” He takes a sip of the wine and sighs softly. “Part of me doesn’t want to go back. Just live in the hotel and run away from responsibility.”

“You would miss work pretty soon.” He loves his job, and you know that. It’s a very serious point of pride even though it’s very taxing on him sometimes. “My offer still stands, my love. Whenever you decide to retire from the FBI, you have my full support.”

“I know, and I’m very grateful for your support.” He promises. “It will come eventually, but I’m happy in my career right now and my team is excellent.”

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy,” you promise him. With Marcus it’s always about support and communication, so having the small check-ins often is key.

“How about you?” He asks. “The inn is becoming even more popular and nearly full every night.”

“It’s nice that we’re not seeing the after affects of the smear campaign anymore.” It seems like the good will from your social media posts surrounding wedding planning has really worked to verse the damage Sam did months ago, and ever since the holidays the inn has been booked solid. “I’ve been thinking about adding an afternoon tea,” you admit, giving him a sheepish look. “Syd’s sous chef is English and French trained and the three of us were thinking about trying out an Italian-inspired tea service for Mother’s Day.”

“Like the tea cakes and sandwiches?” Marcus smirks slightly. “I can see that being a real draw.” He admits. “Older ladies coming in to socialize and then young girls coming in to learn how to take tea. Paninis and cannolis. Cups of tiramisu.”

“Teacups full of individual tiramisu was Syd’s first idea.” It’s sweet to see him get excited and you glow with pride. “I thought it would be nice to give Syd this Mother’s Day off but she came back with a whole new business idea.”

“I think she’s imagining Constance having tea there, with our girls when they are old enough.” Marcus smiles at the thought.

“It’s a beautiful thought.” The dreaminess on his face is obvious, making your heart swell at the promise of growing the family you’re building with this man. Your other half. Your better half. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He promises softly, his own dreams for the future in his eyes. “I have your present, to show you how much.”

“I thought my roses were my present?” In fact, you and Marcus must have given the hotel staff a good chuckle this weekend, because you both ordered a dozen long stem red roses to the hotel room — addressed to each other — that arrived with your breakfast tray with room service this morning.

He gives you a look, one that tells you that you are being ridiculous and moves to his bag to pull out the lovely wrapped gift he had brought for you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you laugh, sliding his gift out from under your pillow to hand over to him.

He huffs at you, even as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You should know that roses were going to be your only Valentine’s Day gift.” He hadn’t been expecting anything, and his eyes soften at the sight of a gift for him.

“They weren’t going to be your only gift either,” you tut. But sitting up together in your hotel bed, naked with glasses of wine and hearts utterly full, seems like the perfect time to exchange gifts. “This looks suspiciously like a jewelry box, Agent Pike.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” Marcus pleads his innocence, even as he smirks.

“Mmhmm.” Giggling to yourself all over again, you nudge Marcus’s package toward him so you can both open them at the same time.

“I need you to open yours first.” He wants to watch your expression and put it on you if you want.

“Very mysterious.” You eye him but obey, pulling open the ribbon on the little wrapped box and tear away the dark red paper to reveal a silver jewelry box — exactly as you suspected. When you remove the lid, a small gasp of surprise and wide eyes come with an open mouth reaction. “Is this…?” The delicate silver necklace inside has a heart pendant hanging from it in the center, but the back clasp is on display in the box: a lock, not a claw.

“A collar.” Marcus nods, watching you seriously as he picks up the small, ornate key and showing it to you. “We’ve talked about it, teasing about it, but I found this and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

"Honey, it's beautiful." To the outside observer, the inconspicuous little heart is a sweet token of love from your soulmate. For you and Marcus, it's a next step into the world that you've been exploring together. "I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking about it, either."

“You know you have me, every single part of me, and I have you.” He reaches out and caresses your neck. “This would be between us. Our little secret from the world. My claim on you.”

The little lock on the necklace is meant to be done for you, and you raise your eyes back to Marcus. "Will you do the honors?"

“Do you want to wear my collar, sweetheart?” He asks seriously. “Keeping me close to your heart every day?”

"I really do," you lean across the small expanse to kiss him, just as soft and steadily as the rhythm of your heartbeat. "Even though you're already in my heart every single day. This is just another way to show the whole world."

Marcus hums as you hold out the necklace to him and he carefully unlocks it. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t take it off.” He tells you as he wraps it around your neck and closes the lock to secure it around your neck.

"I know I can always ask you." There are some occasions when it won't be appropriate -- State dinners, your wedding, the fanciest things that you'll do in your lives -- but each and every day of your life the necklace will either go on or off and that means that Marcus will always be with you even when he's away.

Once the necklace is locked around your neck, Marcus leans in and presses his lips to it and your skin gently.

"I feel a bit like I underdid it now," you admit, touching the necklace gently with your fingertips. "But I still hope you like it."

He snorts, not even able to imagine you not putting incredible thought and time into his gift. He picks up the box and shakes it like a kid at Christmas, grinning at you. “Nahhhh, sounds fun.”

"Oh yeah." You snort and wave one hand casually. "I figured Lincoln Logs were the most romantic gift possible."

He laughs and shakes his head as he starts to unwrap the beautiful paper. “Whatever it is, I appreciate you getting me something.” He murmurs. “A lot of women seem to think valentines is only for them.”

"You are the most romantic man on the planet." While he works open the paper you lean back in the pillows and toy with your new necklace. "I couldn't possibly leave you out of the celebration this weekend. That would be awful."

“You would be surprised how often it happens.” He knows you wouldn’t and it makes him appreciate you even more. “Babe….” he freezes when he opens the box and sees the lighter that is nestled into the protective fabric. “Is this— it’s a 1939-45 World War II Trench lighter.” He murmurs, admiring how the patina on the metal is meticulously cared for. “How did you know to get this?”

The awe on his face is enough to tell you that you made the right decision, and you leave a kiss on his cheek with pleasure. "I may have dug in your eBay search history a little," you admit without shame. "Your lighter collection is a point of pride and I know you want to keep growing it."

“I- I love it.” He promises you, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. “So many of these have been lost or discarded but they all have so many stories ingrained in every flick of the flint.”

"The shop I got it from had a little history of previous owners." The handwritten card is tucked inside the lid of the cigar box, and you nudge Marcus to keep going. "You have to keep unwrapping, though."

“There’s more?” He huffs, rolling his eyes playfully and carefully setting the lighter aside to pull out a box of cigars. “Very nice.”

His smile makes you glow, so happy to see him accepting these shows of love and tokens of affection. "Now that you have a porch to sit out on at night, I thought you should be able to enjoy an indulgence you couldn't have while living in an apartment or the inn."

“That is as long as you don’t hate the smell.” He eyes you, even as he opens the box and pulls out a cigar to smell, groaning at the aroma.

"I called your dad to make sure I got the ones you and he smoke when we're in Texas," you admit. "So I already know I like the smell of these."

“Good.” He chuckles quietly and kisses you again. “You’re perfect, you know that?” He asks. “The universe couldn’t have chosen better.”

"I was just thinking the same about you." Nudging his nose with yours brings a smile to both of your faces. The perfectly contented kind of smile that is somehow both enraptured and at peace all at once. "So I'm very glad we agree."

“That’s why we are soulmates.” He reasons, giddy to be celebrating the holiday with his soulmate, his fiancée and the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers @missladym1981 @babeincolor @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #The Mentalist #soulmate au #First Daughter reader #Juan Badillo #Graceland #Juan Badillo x f!OC #Juan Badillo x OC #PrincessPike2018 #PikeWedding2018 #WhiteHouseWedding2018

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woso-fan13 · 1 year ago

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It’s Fantastic

Most of the team is hanging out in the common room, everyone doing their own thing. The silence of the room is interrupted when you look up from your phone, calling everyone’s attention.

“Hey guys? Do we have any plans tomorrow night?”

The question is clearly directed towards one of the older players, as you and the younger players have made it clear that you would not be memorizing schedules.

Alex scrolls through something in her phone for a few seconds before looking up and responding.

“Practice until 6, dinner at 7. After that, we have the rest of the night off. Why?”

“That’s literally perfect! There’s a movie theater not too far from here, can we please, please, please all go see the new Barbie movie?!?” you’re not ashamed to admit that you may be begging slightly.

The others chuckle at your enthusiasm, but all exchange glances. There really wasn’t a good reason that they couldn’t see the move. And judging by the looks on everyone’s face, you weren’t the only one who wanted to go see it.

“Tell you what, Y/N,” Pinoe levels you with a look, “if you can convince Vlatko to let us all go, we’re in.”

“Easy,” you say with full (false) confidence. “He can’t say no to me. Plus, I already rented out a theater.”

—-

It turns out, Vlatko has no problem saying no to you. But, again, you’re not above begging. You beg and plead, until he finally gives in. Honestly, it’s probably so he doesn’t have to listen to you anymore.

Your team was in, Coach had approved it, now you just needed to make it exciting.

—-

“It’s Lucy and Kiera, and Georgia and Le-“ you sing, skipping into the England common room. “Hmmm, I guess that song doesn’t really work anymore. And I didn’t even get to the bridge about Beth and Vivi.”

The England team is somewhat startled by the American who came singing an obnoxious theme song. You had made the song up almost four years ago, after you had signed for Arsenal. At freshly 14, in a new country and away from your family, some of the Arsenal girls had taken you in.

When they realized that going to camp meant leaving you behind, Leah worked some magic and managed to sort it out so that you could go and practice with the team. You clicked with the team instantly, becoming the annoying little sister that they couldn’t help but love.

“Anyway, mates,” you start. Leaning over to Georgia, you whisper to ask, “did I use that right?”

At her nod, you continue, “as I was saying, anyway, mates, I’ve come to extend an invitation for a once in a lifetime opportunity. It’s been called bigger than the World Cup. Who wants to go see the Barbie movie tomorrow night?”

You’re bouncing on your feet slightly as you speak, clearly excited.

Lucy lets out a small chuckle, “good luck convincing Sarina to let us skip recovery to watch a movie.”

You squint slightly at Lucy, somewhat questioning, “you seem to forget who convinced Sarina to let us have a Colin cake for dinner more than once. It’s on.”

“Meet in the US lobby at 7:45, and don’t forget to wear pink,” you shout over your shoulder as you rush out the door.

—-

Sarina agreed with very little convincing. You assured her that all of the girls were okay with starting recovery earlier so that they could go to the movie, and she couldn’t deny that team bonding is always a good idea.

She only had one stipulation, which you easily agreed to. After helping her pick out the appropriate pink outfit for her to wear the next night, you move on to your next project.

—-

You knock cheerily on the door a few times before swinging it open. Your face lights up as you see the two people you were looking for, and you rush towards them.

Rue and Katie pulled you in, hugging you tight. You hadn’t seen them in a long time, and you had missed the women who had watched out for you for so many years. Rue pressed kisses all over your face as Katie ruffled your hair. You pull away from them, giggling.

“Guys, I love you and I missed you like crazy, but that’s not why I’m here,” now, you turn to address the majority of the Ireland team that’s in the room. “I’m here to invite you all to come to a very exclusive cinema screening tomorrow evening. Meet at 7:45 in the US lobby and wear something pink. Don’t be late!”

You shout a quick bye to the two women before leaving the room, now onto your hopefully last task.

—-

“Oh, Sammy,” you say happily, trotting into the room where you found most of the Australian team.

You knew Sam from playing against her in London, but you had become even closer when she started dating Kristie. If she could be your possible future sister-in-law who’s not actually related to you in any way, you had to be best friends. If you asked Sam, though, she may say that she mainly tolerates you.

“Hi Ali, hi Sammy, hi rest of the team,” you rush out, “tomorrow night, 7:45, US lobby, wear pink, please come.”

You nod once, turning and waking out the door. The team sits in confusion for a second, scanning the others’ faces to see if anyone knows what you said.

—-

When dinner started at 7, you ate about two bites before trying to get out of your chair and clear your plate. You get about a dozen glares and a hand catches your wrist before you leave the table.

“I’m full, promise, I just gotta go. It’s almost time,” you protest.

The glares don’t lessen, though, so you slump back in your seat. You pout as you push the food around your plate, the others trying not to laugh as you through what is basically a temper tantrum.

“Y/N.”

Your full first name gets you looking sheepishly up at Alex.

“You don’t have to finish your whole dinner, but you do need to finish your vegetables. Then you can go get ready.”

You still squirm slightly, too excited to sit completely still. But you don’t make any move to bring your fork up to your mouth.

“You know,” Kelley starts in a way that makes it clear that you don’t actually know, “I bet Pressy and Tobs would love a call to hear about how the ‘golden child’ isn’t listening. I don’t think they’ll be asleep yet, how about we give them a call now?”

You stay silent, finally managing to still your body.

“It’s funny, I bet Tobin still has all the numbers of the Arsenal players. And I would also bet that she would not hesitate to call them and tell them the plans are off because someone couldn’t behave.”

She pulls her phone out, then hesitates, “that takes care of England and Ireland, but I’m not sure about Australia. I could have Kristie call Sam, or I could have Chris call Ali. Y/N, do you have any preference?” Kelley fixes you with a look.

Finally, you break, showing a bite of your dinner in your mouth. After chewing and swallowing, you look up.

“I’m sorry, please don’t cancel. I wasn’t trying to be bad, I’m just excited.”

The rest of dinner passes quickly, and soon it’s 7:30. You’re basically vibrating in the lobby, waiting for everyone to arrive. Soon enough, everyone’s arrived and the lobby is a sea of hot pink. With a giant smile on your face, you start leading everyone out of the hotel and over a couple of blocks to the movie theater.

“Was this planned?” Sam leans over to ask Kristie, “how did she have that outfit?”

You were wearing a fully pink outfit that would have made Barbie herself jealous. Meanwhile, the England girls were doling out their pink warm up gear after you insisted that you wouldn’t let anyone not wearing pink into the movie.

Kristie laughs, “no, that’s just how she dresses. Pink nails, pink dresses, sparkles, the whole deal. It’s easier not to question it.”

You were at the front of the group, talking to players you used to play with, players you currently play with, players you could only dream of playing with. There weren’t different countries, there weren’t rivals, there weren’t competitors. There were simply people following a girl dressed in far too much pink.

#woso imagine #uswnt players #uswnt woso #uswnt x reader #womens soccer #reader insert #woso x reader #woso imagines #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso soccer #uswntsoccer #uswnt fanfic

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imagine-lcorp · 1 year ago

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Stubborn Love (One Shot)

Request

Hi! How about where Lena and reader broke up because Lena want to focus on being a CEO, fast forward in the future where they meet again and Reader has a child with her, whose also Lena's, and Lena tries to make up with reader and their child (Time where women can make a baby together, if you're okay with that)

A/N: Hey little beans!! missed me? Ok so a lot fo stuff has happened and I know I always promise I'm back, but all things considered I just gotta tell you, I'm just here, lost in space, I'll never be gone so at least theres that, so as long as you're here, I'm here, let's just enjoy our time together. Pls enjoy this little something!

Lena Luthor x Fem!R//Word Count: 2, 546

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"Give our children your dark-bright eyes or your enchanted smile. So that even when we are gone, the world will find within them all the reasons I loved you." -Nizar Qabbani

Kelly put glass of water on the coffee table in front of you and sat next to you on the couch. She put an arm around you, rubbing your back and shoulders, trying to provide any kind of comfort she could.

It had been late at night when you had come knocking at her door. From the moment Kelly had opened it she knew something had happened. Your eyes were swollen?, red and you could barely say a word. You were holding a small bag of luggage beside you with a trembling hand. She practically pulled you inside by pure instinct without asking any of the questions that were swirling in her mind to put you in a safe space. It was her number one priority and she wasn't going to leave your side until she was sure you were alright.

When you were calm enough to speak, Kelly found herself shocked by what had made you come to her in the middle of the night. You and Lena had broken up.

Kelly had known you since she had arrived to National City to help her brother. It had been years ago but she still remembered you and Lena together and how happy you had seemed back then. You were probably one of the most estable relationships she had seen among her friends and it surprised her to find out how things had developed between you two to want to end it so abruptly.

Of all your friends, she was probably the only one who could grasp what you were going through and she promised you she was going to help you sort things out.

"Alex is out in a mission, she'll be back home in a couple of days so you can stay without problem. The spare room is ready." She said as she kept rubbing your back and shoulders. She could only imagine how tired yo would be after what had happened.

"I can't stay." Your voice came out hoarse and in a whisper.

"C'mon, you know I won't let you go like this. It's late, we can get to the problem solving tomorrow."

"No, I…I." You swallowed, gathering yourself as best as you could. "I can't stay in National City."

That took Kelly by surprise. "Let's not rush things, alright?"

"No, Kelly, I can't." You turned to look at her so she could see the determination in your eyes.

"(Y/N), I know this may seem difficult but you need to talk to Lena first. I think- ."

"I'm pregnant." You blurted, leaving Kelly with an open mouth.

There was a moment of hesitation in which Kelly didn't know what to do first. If jump in excitement about the new member of the Superfriends family or hug you because this seemed to trouble you more than she would have expected. Kelly opted for the second option and you let her embrace you, she pulled you into her arms as you let another handful of tears roll down your cheeks.

You would remember that first night after leaving Lena as one one of the most painful ones of your life. Your last conversation with Lena, the way you had left her apartment with a single suitcase in your hand, reaching for someone that could help you, and leaving National City behind to start a new life. Everything had seemed too dark and painful but you had something to pull you forward, someone that was going to change everything.

And so, years later you would find yourself stroking a little head full of black hair with your hand while you held his little body with the other against your chest. Little (Y/S/N), your son, was a little more than four years old. He was the light of your life and you loved him with all your might.

Since you had left National City, it had always been the two of you. From the nine months you carried him in your womb until that moment in your life, you had been inseparable. You had been afraid at first, for him and for yourself. Strangers in a new town, trying to make your own home, with no idea of how family was supposed to work. Things were not perfect, but he didn't need them to be and neither did you. You had made it and you had made something beautiful.

It was also true that you had your own regrets. There were moments when you thought a little too much about the past. About how things could have ended up if you had taken better, or less reckless, decisions. You feared the what ifs, the maybes, and the past that had been left that night at Kelly's door. And one particular ghost still haunted your mind and your heart.

Every time you looked at your son, you looked at her. Black hair, green eyes, and a young mind as sharp as a knife. Now I know whose genetics are stronger, you had thought to yourself with a smile so many times. Of course, if you looked at him you could also recognize yourself. (Y/S/N) was the little perfect combination of the best of you.

"She will have your nose, I'm sure." Lena had told you once, delighted at the thought of having a little you running around the house.

She had been sitting on the floor behind you, with her head placed above your shoulder as you both read the required papers to start the medical process that would make you both mothers. You had leaned back, humming in thought. Your fingers moved through pages and pages of information, trying to grasp as much as you could, amidst the distraction that supposed Lena's breath so close to your neck.

"What if she is a he?" You had questioned with a little smile.

"Then we'll have to think of more names." She had placed a kiss close to your ear and then had helped you read the rest.

It had been years since you had last seen her but there she was, with you, with him, even if you couldn't name her. You had said as much about her as you had been able to to your son when he was old enough to question you about it. Why he didn't a father? Or another mother? Two parents like most kids like him? Because his Mama wasn't ready to come to them yet, you had said, but that one day she was going to, and it pained you to realize how much you wanted for that wishful thing to happen too. And it was not long before it became true.

"(Y/N)?"

The phone had almost slipped from your hand after hearing her voice after so much time.

(Y/S/N) had turned his head away from the TV on the living room to watch you, trying to imagine who was talking on the other side of the line to make his mom make that funny face.

"Lena?" You had answered with a shaking voice.

"It's been a while."

The conversation started as it usually did, with people who used to know everything about each other and ended up becoming complete strangers. An exchange of words, questions and answers that seemed to lead to nothing but the abyss that now separated you from your past selves.

"I'm sorry." You heard her say on the other side with a hesitant tone so rare in her it surprised you even more. "I know I should've called you a long time ago."

"Yeah, you should have." You tried to keep your wounded heart from spilling as you looked at your son.

"Would it be too late if I ask , can we see each other again?"

You sat in the corner of the coffee shop with a warm cup between your fingers, sipping your beverage as you waited. You were nervous. You kept bouncing your leg and looking at the door until you saw her come through it.

It reminded you the very first time you had sat together, in that little coffee shop across the street from the office. You had been dreading the moment she would have to cross the door to meet with you, that if she even thought you were worth her time, after you had asked her to have a coffee with you. You could still remember the little smile playing across her lips when she accepted the invitation and the way your stomach had fluttered when she grabbed your arm, promising to met you after work. Time had passed and there had been no sign of her yet. You feared or a moment she had forgotten, and if that was the case you would not hold it against her. She was a busy woman, what was a coffee date compared to the empire she had to keep from crumbling. Still, you waited and, against all hope and all odds she had come.

Time seemed to freeze when your eyes found each other. She was all goddess looking even after the years you had spent away.

When you finally settled at the table, words seemed to be lost for both of you. Small talk was painfully dull. Another reminder of all that had been lost between you two.

"Lena?" You held your gaze towards her and finally asked her. A question too obvious, maybe, but necessary nevertheless. "Why are we here?"

She smiled, sheepishly and not without a hint of regret in her emerald eyes. "'Cause I was wrong".

The moment you had crossed her door to never come back again was the moment Lena knew what true and complete loneliness meant. An unyielding emptiness filled by shadows and rumors of what life she had with you and she had no one else to blame but herself. She had put her company above you, trying to make it the force of good the world needed and wanted, that she forgot you also needed her and wanted her and loved her.

And when Lena had realized her mistakes, when she had tried to reach you, to bring you back, you were so long gone and lost from her sight that it made her want to destroy everything she had worked so hard to build if that meant she would have you again.

"I'm sorry." Lena's eyes were full of regret.

"Don't be." You shook your head. "You were out there saving the world, trying to change your family legacy and I…I didn't want to hold you back."

"I don't think I would have done most of what I did if it wasn't for you." Her lips curled in a little smile. "We did many great things together."

"Yes, we did." The image of your son flashed through your mind and you swallowed hard. "One in particular, I think you need to know."

You stood in the sidewalk among the rest of parents that waited patiently for the school bell ring. You had not dared to answer Lena's questions about where you were going and why you were there after your encounter but you knew she had surely figured it out by now as you watched her fidget with her hands. Instinctively you reached for them, a gesture that had been so common between you, in an attempt to soothe her and yourself. You held hands as you kept waiting.

"How is he?" Lena asked, her thumb caressing the back of your hand in a nervous tick.

"He's very smart, first of his class." Lena raised her brows in surprise. "He likes big animals, wants a bike for Christmas, and wants to be an astronaut before becoming an Olympic athlete, in all sports." You sighed with a smile.

"Wonderful." A wave of warmth rushed through her, feeling herself proud of the little boy she was about to meet, and a moment of silence passed before she dared to ask. "Why did you never tell me about him?"

"I didn't know how." You took a deep breath. "Back then, you were so focused on being a CEO, on working for the good of the people. I saw how much it took from you but I also understood how big that responsibility was. It's true, what I said before. I didn't want to hold you back. I didn't want us to be a distraction, not particularly after our last fight."

"I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way." Lena turned to look at you with pleading eyes. "I never wanted you to face this alone and I'm here to amends…If you let me."

You couldn't say more as the bell finally rang. You could feel your heart pounding hard against your chest and you squeezed Lena's hand.

"Ready to meet him?" You managed to said.

"I am." Lena nodded.

You headed inside the building with the rest of the parents, ready to pick your son. You reached her classroom in no time, greeting his teacher and asking if your son had behaved during class. His teacher was all smiles when she told you your son had been in nothing but his best behavior. Then she called your son and you watched from the door as he stepped out of his little chair, rushing towards you. You picked him up, holding him in your arms, and thanked the teacher before turning around to leave.

You asked him about his day and the things he had learned that day. He replied with nothing but excitement and you were happy to hear him.

"Hey, I bring a friend today with me." You said after he had finished. "Would you like to meet her?"

"Yeah." He replied with a smile.

You walked through the hallway and there, sitting in a bench, was Lena waiting patiently for you. She rose from her seat once she saw you approach and her face couldn't hide her awe. As if she was seeing a true miracle, she didn't know what to do or what to say, until you were close enough.

"Hi." She said wearing that beautiful smile of hers.

"Hi." Your son responded with his little voice.

"My name is Lena, nice o meet you."

"You're pretty." He said, making you and Lena chuckle.

"What do we say when we meet new people?" You reminded your son.

"I'm (Y/S/N). Nice to meet you, Lena."

"Good boy." You said kissing his temple.

Lena took a look at him, seeing herself in that little face and there was no denying he was hers and yours. A pang of regret struck her heart for all the years she had not known about him. If she had only called after you, if she had called you, if she had tried to contact you sooner rather than later, how different things would have been for you three. But she was there, with you and your son, and that was all that mattered to her.

This time, she promised herself, she was going to do whatever that was in her hands to make it up to you and she wasn't going to waste another moment.

#stubborn love #one shot #request #lena luthor imagines #lena luthor imagine #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x you #lena x reader #fem reader #female reader #fem!reader

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nico-di-genova · 6 months ago

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Just a Little Rain

Prompt: Palex where Alex comes to Pato for a sleepover in his bus because he can't fall asleep alone A/N: Don't ask me the timeline of anything, idk. Anyway, found out Alex apparently has a fear of lightning and I ran with it.

The rumble of thunder through the bus lot is what pulls Pato from his sleep, a sound that roils through, bringing Pato’s consciousness with it. The lightning that flashes, casts shadows of his blinds across the ceiling and illuminates the messy state of his room for a blink, is quick to follow.

Pato groans, muffles the sound into his pillow when he turns on his side and curses the weather.

The storm had been forecasted, discussed in their meeting the night before because it is meant to be slow-moving, still sitting above them come morning and impacting the practice session he sorely needs. The rain that beats against his window would normally be appreciated, soothing in nature, if not for the fact that it is what will be keeping him out of the car come tomorrow. Ovals and their temperament, their unreliability, and the fact that they can kill, have killed, aren’t safe to drive on in wet conditions. Pato wouldn’t want to take the risk, not for a practice session, but he is itching to get in the car.

May is already weighing heavy on him, despite the fact that the month is still in its infancy, still ripe with potential and promise. Pato cannot help but think twenty steps ahead, can’t help that his brain seems to be working in overdrive these days, especially where the 500 is concerned. It’s exhausting, which is another reason he curses the storm. He needs sleep.

Thunder rumbles again, louder this time, enough to shake the bus. Enough that Pato misses the knocking until it comes again, frantic. He could pass it off as storm noise, if not for how it echoes and sound far closer than what is brewing in the sky above.

Grumbling, he pulls himself from the bed and pads down the length of the bus, wiping at the sleep crusted in the corners of his eyes. He opens the door mid-yawn, not expecting anyone, but least of all the man who stands on the first step shivering in his soaked through pajamas.

“Alex?”

Alexander Rossi looks up at him through the rain beading on his lashes, squints when it drips and joins the rest of the cascading trails down his face.

“Hi.”

“Hi?”

“Can I come in?” He shivers again as if for emphasis, curls his arms tighter where he’s wrapped them around his torso. His shirt is plastered to his soaked through frame, sleeves tight against the swell of muscle. Pato stares, wondering for a moment if he’s maybe dreaming, before Alex tacks on a feeble, “Please?” and his voice, trembling just as much as he is, pulls Pato back to his senses.

He moves out of the doorway, motions for Alex to enter, and then Alexander Rossi is standing in the entryway of his bus and dripping water in a puddle on the linoleum. His shoes leave muddy tracks, before he looks down and notices the mess.

“Sorry,” He mutters to Pato before kicking the sneakers off, standing in the puddle of water in his socks once he does.

“It’s okay,” Pato promises. His bus isn’t the sanctity of cleanliness that Alex’s is, there’s enough half empty water bottles and piles of clothes scattered around to attest to that. But Alex probably can’t see the mess in the dark of the bus. He isn’t looking at anything anyway, just the floor beneath him, his socks changing color where the water is soaking into them.

Pato isn’t sure what to say, what to do, shuffles around Alex from where he’d been standing with his hand still on the door and then makes for the kitchen so he can flip the switch to illuminate the small space. The light has them both flinching, blinking against it, even though it’s dim because Pato has it on a slider and always keeps it on the lowest setting. It casts Alex in a new light, makes his soaked through state even more apparent. Their buses are on opposite sides of the lot, which means Alex has run through the grass and the mud, braved the torrential downpour that now beats against the windows, to stand in one spot on Alex’s bus and shiver.

“Are- do you- do you want a change of clothes?” Pato asks. They’re not the same size, but Pato thinks he maybe has a hoodie or two that are oversized on him.

Alex swallows, nods, “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Pato wouldn’t have offered if he did.

He doesn’t look at Pato, still keeps staring at that same spot on the floor. Alex doesn’t ever speak much, but he doesn’t show up at Pato’s place at close to three in the morning without explanation either. They’re friendly, friends even, but Pato is used to long text conversations and casual flirting, not whatever this is. He’s out of his element, Alex too if his stilted behavior is any indication.

Rifling through the bit of clean laundry he still has, Pato is able to procure a tan hoodie. There’s a stain on the front, probably from spilled food, but it’s clean. Alex doesn’t seem to mind, which is strange too, just peels his shirt from his body without preamble and wipes himself down with the towel Pato offers too before sliding the hoodie on.

Pato tries not to stare, fails, watches as Alex runs to towel over his chest, his arms, the expanse of his abdomen. He’s seen Alex shirtless before, worked out with him occasionally and seen him strip out of his fireproofs when he got too overheated, but never in the intimacy of his temporary home. Never when Alex was so close. Alex dries at the water along his v-line, and Pato’s mouth goes a little dry.

He forces himself to look away, makes himself a glass of water and chugs it while leaning against the sink so he can maybe not feel so thirsty that he thinks about dropping to his knees and licking away the rain dotting Alex’s skin himself. Alex doesn’t seem to notice, just slides on the hoodie and then strips out of his socks, adding them and his shirt in a soggy pile next to his shoes.

“Thanks,” Alex says when he’s dressed, no longer standing in the puddle, but across from Pato in the small space of the kitchen. He’s leaned back against the door of the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest again, eyes still not quite meeting Pato’s.

“No problem.” Pato sips from his water now, casts a look at Alex over the rim of the cup.

“I-“ Alex starts, shifts against the door, sighs, “I don’t like storms.”

The thunder rumbles again outside as if to accentuate Alex’s point. He tenses, noticeably, fabric of the hoodie stretched tight across his shoulders.

“Oh,” Pato says, for lack of anything better. Alex didn’t seem like the sort to be afraid of anything, least of all thunderstorms.

“I- it’s the lightning really. Or just- just the whole thing. I don’t know. Mainly the lightning.”

“Oh,” Pato says again, still unsure what he’s meant to do here, “Okay.”

“Sorry, it’s stupid,” Alex says, forces out a laugh, but Pato knows when he’s faking something so it’s not hard to miss the tension in his tone. He glances up at Pato for a second, quickly looks back down, finds another spot on the floor to study with avoidant interest. Pato’s never seen him like this. Quiet, annoyed, yes, but awkwardly picking at the sleeve of Pato’s hoodie with anxious fingers, that’s a new one.

“No, it’s not stupid,” Pato assures him, sets the cup of water down behind him, “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be an asshole.” He steps closer to Alex, sets a hand over where Alex is pulling on the hoodie at his bicep and then releasing it, repeating the behavior again and again with increasing agitation. Alex flinches at the contact, eyes darting to Pato’s holding for a second before they leave again. He’s biting at his bottom lip nervously, enough that Pato can see blood beading up when he pulls at a loose bit of skin to hard. Alex licks it away quickly, ducks his head further like he’s ashamed.

“It’s not stupid, honestly. What do you need me to do? How can I help?”

Alex shrugs, shakes his head.

“Come on, Alex. You came here for a reason, let me help. Please.”

“It’s dumb,” Alex says, quiet, ashamed. The thunder comes again, and he tenses impossibly tighter, goes so rigid in Pato’s grasp that Pato can feel it. The bus does little to help, just keeps rocking with the wind that gusts against it and doing nothing to mute the cacophony of noise that is the rain pounding against the roof. The storm is picking up, and Alex is only growing more and more agitated with it.

“Alex, I want to help,” Pato pushes. He hates this, hates seeing Alex practically trembling in the dim light of his bus, looking smaller than he should. He’s exhausted, and he can see Alex is too in the dark circles under his eyes and his weary expression. They need to sleep, they both need this rain to end. Alex because he clearly can’t stand the storm itself, Pato because he needs to get in his car tomorrow, drive out the anxiety and frustration that’s crawling up his spine. He curses Indiana weather again, mentally gives it the finger, it responds with a clap of thunder so loud the bus shakes with it.

Alex’s face goes white, his grip on his own bicep goes so tight Pato can see it, feel it beneath where he’s got his own hand resting atop Alex’s. It must be painful, has to be, because he’s gripping skin and muscle with enough force his knuckles are going white too.

“Hey, woah, it’s okay.” He soothes Alex like a spooked horse, pulls the man’s hand away from where he’s attempting to bruise his own arm, lets him grip his hand instead. “You’re okay, dude. All good.”

“S-sorry,” Alex stutters out, choked sounding. He’s squeezed his eyes shut, just as tight as the rest of his body, leaning against the door behind him heavily for support. His breathing comes out ragged, unnatural. “I need- I need to lay down. Please. Under something, with someone. Just- I can’t- I don’t like being alone when it’s- when it’s like this.”

Hence running through the rain and to Pato’s door. Pato remembers Alex telling him Hinch was out of town, gone to Miami for the Formula 1 race. He wonders if that’s who Alex would have run to instead, assumedly he had not been the first choice. They’ve endured plenty of storms during this season and the last, but this is the first time Alex has shown up at his door seeking shelter.

Carefully, still handling Alex with all the care one would a particularly frightened thoroughbred, he takes him by the wrist and leads him back to his room. Alex follows, numbly, blindly, trusting Pato fully. Pato has contended with his fair share of nervous system overloads, understands the way you feel frayed and exposed, like a raw nerve. He doesn’t blame Alex for shutting down.

Alex’s sweatpants are still wet from the rain, and Pato doesn’t have a pair that would fit him.

“Do you want to sleep in these?” He asks, gently tapping against the waistband of the clothing.

Alex shakes his head.

“Okay if I take them off?”

Alex nods.

It’s not the way Pato had envisioned undressing him, and he does so with a gentleness he had not pictured either, sliding the elastic band down past the hem of his briefs, the muscle of his thighs, and then letting them pool around his ankles so Alex can step out of them when Pato pulls him forward and eases him down onto the bed. Alex sits on the edge for a minute while Pato crawls in behind him, all rigid and unmoving, and then falls back on the pillow with a sigh of relief when Pato grabs his arm and pulls him down. He is taller than Pato, longer than him, but the height doesn’t factor much once they’re laying parallel. Pato holds him, Alex turns himself around to bury his face against the crook of his neck. The blanket Pato eases over him ends up pulled to his ears.

When lightning flashes, illuminates the room, Alex’s breath stutters.

“Okay,” he soothes, “You’re okay.”

Part of him wonders at the fear, wonders what it is in the lightning that causes Alex to press closer to him. Come morning maybe he will ask, or maybe he will text Hinch, or maybe he will say nothing at all, and Alex will leave once the sun arrives. This could become something they aren’t meant to talk about, like the flirting and the texts that Alex sends when he’s drunk and alone. Just another thing they step around, until the next storm that Alex comes knocking during.

Pato holds him closer, closes his eyes and inhales the scent of him, the sharp copper scent of rain and skin that isn’t really Alex at all, but will be what Pato recalls when he thinks of this night.

“You’re okay,” Pato promises, because the bus doesn’t muffle much sound, but it keeps out the rain. Alex lets him run a hand down his back, muscles jumping under the touch, coiled so tightly he can’t hide the reaction. Pato does so until Alex begins to relax against him.

Slowly, his own exhaustion begins to return. Despite the rain still pounding down on the roof, beating against the window in sheets, the noise begins to lure him toward unconsciousness. He’s warm under the blanket with Alex, almost unbearably so, but it’s also comfortable. He likes the extra weight on the mattress beside him, how Alex dips toward him, they dip toward each other, with the weight of their bodies at the center of the bed. Alex has nuzzled himself right under Pato’s chin, so that his breath is warm when it ghosts along his neck.

Warmth and heat and a familiar hand clutching at his hip, this is how Pato falls asleep.

In the morning, Alex is still there, snoring softly, body relaxed. One quick look at his phone assures him they can stay in this moment for longer, Pato’s engineer having texted to let him know practice is, predictably, delayed. It’s easy, for a moment, to fantasize a life in which this is normal. Where he might, one day, wake up with Alex in his arms and it will feel like home. Certainly it is the closest Pato has come in recent weeks, since leaving Monterrey and having to pack his life into a bus, an Airbnb, a hotel room over and over and over again. Alex is one of the constants now. Next to Elba, he is usually the first person to text Pato in the morning. Often, it is to ask him if he wants to work out, go for a walk – because Alex doesn’t run – and now, for a moment, he is here. It feels right.

Pato, harshly, hopes they have another storm.

He doesn’t wake Alex, just sets his phone back down on the nightstand and carefully eases himself back to where Alex is curled against him. Alex mumbles in his sleep at the movement. It’s nonsensical, not even words, but Pato can feel them because Alex is so close to him that his lips ghost along the exposed column of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Pato calms him once more, another hand down his back, down the fabric of his hoodie that Alex is now stretching out and claiming, “Go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

“M’kay,” Alex mutters.

Pato smiles.

Sun is beginning to filter through the blinds, despite the rain still pattering against the window, and Alex continues to sleep.

#palex #alexander rossi #pato o'ward #indycar fic #my fic #palex fic #please know this was word vomit at 3 am so I could actually just get the words flowing #so it's a little bad and dumb maybe #anywho #I go to sleep now #because #like i said #its 3 am #also we must consider: Alex likes horses because he 1 - is a horse girl #but 2 - shares traits and similarities with them

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mixedcontents · 5 months ago

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Thinking about how Alan and Alice love each other so much and what they're willing go go through for each other. Alan willingly being trapped in the dark place to get Alice out all his fighting for her and Alice willingly sacrificing herself in the second game knowing she'll be going to the dark place despite her absolute terror of the dark and her wanting to see and capture Alan/Scratch so badly she was willing to make so much of their apartment dark so he'd show up and her depression and grief so bad she probably would have succumbed to it had it not been for Barry who she did not like at all til after she got to know him truly without her husband and Barry loved Alan so much even though he went to hell and back he tried pretending it wasn't real and a reaction to the trauma of losing Alan and he spent the time since protecting and continuing Alan's work (being turned into shows/movies) and yet spent so much of his time caring for Alice in her grief despite his own saving her pulling her out of that darkness until she was able to pull herself out and stand on her own and yet even from across the country busy with Alan's work and meetings to get it perfect so Alan would be proud and happy with it were he there Barry still checks in with Alice daily and is gonna come back at the drop of a hat should she not reply for one day just all the love there and in the dark place we see Alan loving Alice wanting to get back to her and that's reflected a lot in the graffiti but also we see Barry there to like Wheeler Street and whatnot and then Saga and her grandfather and grand uncle and despite not knowing them feeling that connection and coming to love them they do everything to try to help and protect her walking into the dark place themselves her love for her daughter and husband her love for Alex Casey just it may be a horror story but at its heart Alan Wake is really a love story and it has been one of my favorite games since I played the first one and American Nightmare when they first came out 13ish years ago I was finishing up high school and so in love with the game for it's story and characters and unique and incredible game play and I desperately wanted all my friends to play and love it too and i desperately wanted more and then alan wake 2 was worth the wait and not knowing we'd ever have a sequel and then some it took what made the first game incredible and the love the fans had and the story and introduced new mechanics and characters and just built upon what made the first game incredible and more and I love it so much I was going through a really rough time and I was spending most of my time in bed trying to sleep the pain away and my depression getting bad bc i was unable to physically do anything and my mom was getting really worried about me as we waited for my specialist appointments (my mri for my knee is tomorrow finally!) And so I was like what can I do to convince myself to at least get out of bed and sit up for a while so i splurged and bought a ps5 earlier than planned just so i could play Alan Wake 2 cause it was the one thing I really wanted to do little did I know that the game would become the reason for getting out of bed excited for a new day and that it would help keep my own darkness (depression due to chronic pain and injury) at bay truly both games hold special places in my heart and mind for both what they are but also what they mean to me for the horrible things i was going through when playing them for the first time and the way they brought so much light and joy to my life may be a bit silly sounding to some but it means the world to me I truly am excited to play the dlc lake house when it comes out and I'm excited to see where Sam Lake goes next be it Alan Wake or new games I know I'll be happy to play em 💜💛🧡❤️

#alan wake 2 #alan wake #alice wake #barry wheeler

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maxybabyy · 1 year ago

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It’s almost half past eight when the door opens and breaks Max’s focus.

Usually, people don’t come into this room. It’s too noisy, too hot when it isn’t completely freezing outside.

Lewis comes by occasionally, uses the nanodrop for his DNA samples. But his project is on the tail-end, and he’s too deep in the writing phase to even be on the lab cleaning rota. Max knows he was meant to stay, that Toto wanted to build a part of the group around him and his expertise. But funding runs out quickly; what was hot five years ago, may as well be old news today.

But it’s Daniel who pokes his head in, smile wide as he spots Max in the corner.

“There you are, Maxy.” He says, pushes the chair closer to Max before sitting down. “Alex said you’d left, but your stuff was still in the office, so.”

He doesn’t have a lab coat on, but always he doesn’t wear it. Max doesn’t know still if it’s an Australian thing, or because he is a pharmacist maybe, but also Oscar does it.

“But I have my gloves on today, Maxy.” Daniel said yesterday when Max had commented on it, trying not to stare at the lovely white tee shirt Daniel had been wearing. He wiggled his fingers as a tease, the bright pink gloves Seb had brought as a joke. He would have to at least be a large to escape the bright blue nitrile hell Max and the other mediums were saddled with. “Don’t get used to it though, just Oscar’s apparently shit at aliquoting piss I’ve learnt.”

“So what are we doing tonight, Max?” Daniel asks now. He is sitting on the chair the wrong way; elbows on the back of it with his chin in his hand. He couldn’t sit like that, Max thinks, at least not for very long. Not like Daniel can, like he does in their shared meetings when Christian and Zak remember they have a grant together.

“The university said the power would be out for a while tomorrow, so I of course have to shut down the MS,” Max says, huffs when he has to turn back to the computer.

The email had come Wednesday night, barely any information except for the notice of a power outage within eighty hours. Max had used the reply-all function to tell them to go suck an egg, turned off his phone and gone for a run.

Checo should of course be the one to do this, senior to Max in every way but one. But last time Sergio had been in charge of shutting down the systems, Max had come in the next day unable to complete calibration, and they had to replace two different parts.

It’s a new instrument too, and always he can be – the mass spectrometer can be a bit fussy when you have to shut it down. But Max has been working with mass spec since undergrad, was the second author on GP’s Nature Communications paper. Had come to Christian’s lab for this very instrument, so he of course knows it best.

“Always they say we are a part of a core facility, and still, they do this,” Max says. He’s already discussed it with GP and Jonathan how it isn’t okay, with the facility manager who hasn’t touched probably a mass spectrometer in his life.

Daniel also hasn’t worked with MS by himself before, but he would of course understand, would know it isn’t okay to do this.

“Was the Friday bar alright?” Max asks. He had gone too for a bit, shared the last dregs of gin with Charles, pouring the tonic directly into the bottle to get the most of it. “George said he made a quiz, but to me it sounded very boring. There was a part, I think, where you had to spell out chemicals’ names.”

Daniel laughs, and it sounds so loud in their tiny room for two. Daniel has of course always had a very lovely laugh, but it sounds even better like this. The two of them only. Max likes it like that the best.

“Yeah ah, George kinda went to town on the goon sack instead,” he says. “I reckon Alex had to carry him home.”

“George drank the wine?” Max asks. “No! But that is so old, it’s been in the fridge since Liam graduated.”

“He went for the sangria too, it wasn’t even good fresh.”

“Always George should not be in charge of this, of drinking and parties,” Max says, remembers the nightmare his grad party had been. “You are of course very good at it, how to make it a good night.”

“You think so?” Daniel says, soft, hesitant. Max looks up from the instrument with a frown, touches Daniel’s hand where it’s been hovering in the air, like he didn’t know if he could touch him. Always he can. Max should tell him this, maybe.

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Then, would you go somewhere with me tonight?” He asks, closes his hand around Max’s. It’s different to work like this, one-handed and typing slow. But Max doesn’t want to pull away, keeps his hand in the warmth of Daniel’s.

“I think I am too tired for the club, Daniel.” Max says softly. He has gone before, after the Friday bar. But he cannot do it tonight, his body is too tired. He doesn’t think he would survive if he did, considers already if he should take the bus home and leave his bike behind.

But to his surprise, Daniel laughs, squeezes their hands together. “Nah, I was thinking we could maybe go get some food? You said you’ve been craving like, tacos, and I’ve found a place down by one of the bridges that I thought we could try. If you wanna, of course.”

Daniel has only been in the city for five months, but already he has made friends in high places, in the low ones too.

“I would love to, but always I don’t know how -“

“Hey, we’ll just leave whenever you’re done, no rush, Maxy.” Daniel says.

Max nods, “Then it of course sounds very lovely. It will not be that much longer, I think.”

“I’ll be here,” Daniel says softly.

He pulls his hand from Max’s, the loss of touch, of warmth is sudden, but Max knew it would happen. But Daniel doesn’t leave.

He doesn’t go back to the office to work on the paper Max knows has to be sent back with major revisions, doesn’t go over the postdoc application Zak isn’t supposed to know about. He pulls out his phone instead, plays one of those indie rock albums that Max has come to like.

It’s very nice, Max thinks, his own earphones still dead in his ears.

The MS does finally shut down, leaves the room almost quiet except for the music.

They’re in the basement to get their bikes, Daniel will go in front because he knows where they’re going. He wears a helmet now too, one of those fancy Hövding airbags that will inflate if he crashes.

“So I won’t mess up my hair, baby,” he had said, the collar loose around his neck when he came into the office to show it off. Max doesn’t care, thinks he looked cute in Max’s borrowed helmet, but this is good also.

“Hey Maxy,” Daniel says now, one leg swung over the bike. “Would it be cool with you if this was a date instead?”

Max almost stumbles over the pedals, but he doesn’t, corrects himself so he’s upright and staring at Daniel, who watches him back almost shyly.

“It would of course be very lovely, I think, if this was a date,” he says, faint.

Daniel's lips stretch into a wide grin, and Max cannot help but return it.

“Cool, let’s do that then.”

#maxiel #max/daniel #maxiel fic #my fic #my writing #fic

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kurapikasjudgement · 5 months ago

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The Bakery

C: Alex Turner X Fem! Reader

W: Angst, Reader is genuinely the sweetest, NO USE OF Y/N, Not beta read

E: A song fic based off of the song The Bakery by Arctic Monkeys (and technically Miles Kane). Song linked at the bottom.

S: You and Alex broke up but for some reason you see each other everywhere until you don’t…

Alex has always had a sweet tooth. There was this local bakery he would visit often. The visits lessened as he grew as a rising musical star. This was the key difference between the two of you. He was in college and paying bills by being a rock star by night while you worked a part time job at said bakery. Since he frequented it often you hit it off. But as his extra time lessened and lessened he began to lose what you two had resulting in an ultimate decision of a split between the two of you. He still misses you though.

After the break up he cut off his visits to the place all together. Until a friend of his who didn’t know about his past with you and the shop invited him to a little gathering between him and his friends. If he recalled correctly, it was during the time where you weren’t on shift so it should’ve been fine.

To both of your amazing luck, you had to pick up an extra shift to make up for a co-worker who had went on a vacation. Meaning you were stuck tending to the needs of the group for the duration of the gathering.

It was awkward to say the least. The friends who did know were nothing but polite to you but decided not to speak on the matter. As for Alex himself he got nervous whenever he was forced to speak to his ex-girlfriend who he definitely wasn’t over.

Throughout the time you exchanged glances and the tension grew more and more. He wanted to have the courage to speak to you but he just couldn’t muster it. And eventually everyone starts to head out from the bakery and he looks at you one last time before following behind everyone else.

***

The next time he saw you was at the post office. You do volunteer work there on Wednesdays and Thursdays (which he has no idea how you have time for). Unfortunately, he has a deadline with the recording company he has to meet and needed to mail something. All of his band mates seem to be conveniently busy right when he needs them so he has no choice but to mail it himself knowing you’ll be there. As soon as he walks in he can smell the faint smell of your perfume and almost wants to take the risk and back out. He doesn’t though.

He walks up to the register and no one is there out first. He taps the bell lightly and you look over to see it’s him. You seem to have a light debate with someone about going up before ultimately walking up to help him. The conversation is nothing but professional and awkward at that. No pleasantries are uttered except a light ‘How is your day?’ ‘Well, you?’ ‘Also well.’ You can’t even seem to meet his dark brown eyes for more than a second.

The interaction is as quick as possible yet still painful for the both of you. He leaves feeling almost worse than he did before, knowing that he had a chance to say something other than boring mail stuff but just didn’t.

***

After his time at the post office he lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what he could’ve done instead. After a long while of reflecting he decides to just go for it and talk to you. Tomorrow he’s gonna go to the bakery and talk to you. He’s been craving a slice of your special apple pie anyway.

***

He builds up the courage and walks into the bakery wearing his sky blue lacoste that you used to love so much. Initially, he walks up to the register and sees it’s not you there but another co-worker. Maybe you’re just in the back?

“Hello, welcome in. How may I help you today?”

“This is sort of an odd request but…” He then goes on to ask if you’re there.

“I’m afraid she’s out sick today.” The worker responds kindly. Out sick? You never call out of work even when you are sick! He had to practically beg you to stay home whenever you caught an illness.

“Did you still want to order something or will that be all for today?”

“That’s all. Thanks anyway.” He says politely before walking out of the shop hearing the ding of the bell follow.

As he walks he thinks to himself about your interaction the day before. You were showing no signs of illness, if you were he’s sure he would’ve noticed. Maybe it is an overnight sickness thing? Or maybe he’s just starting to lose you and he can’t even tell if you’re not feeling well anymore. Or what if you’re not even sick and you’re out for some other reason? There’s just no way to tell.

What he does know is that wherever you are, he desperately wants you back.

#the bakery #arctic monkeys #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #song fic #kinda angsty #x reader #professional kurapika s u c k e r #kurapikax thoughts #kurapikasjudgement #kurapikax #☆#Spotify

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sevendeadlywhispers · 10 months ago

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7Seals

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Chapter 2

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• Previous Chapter: Chapter One Next Chapter: Chapter Three •Content: Levi Ackerman x OC female. Canon verse!

• Word Count: 2.5k • Warning: This content may not be suitable for all readers. If you've watched all of AOT then you will understand that the show handles heavy subjects such as abuse, racism, violence, and other heavy subjects. This fanfiction will also have the same heavy themes. Chapters with heavy themes will be marked with * at each chapter.

“I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to man has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams.”

- Ingmar Bergman

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Hange's voice shattered the tranquility of my dreams, a morning sunbeam cast through my window. Blinking away sleep, their wide-eyed excitement loomed over me with a lamp illuminating the room.

"Hange, let me sleep," I groaned, flipping over and burying my face in the pillow, shoving the blanket over my head to fend off the morning invasion.

"No can do," Hange declared, ripping the blanket and pillow away with zealous determination.

"What the hell, Hange?" I moaned, propping myself up but unwilling to surrender the haven of my bed. "This better be good," I muttered into the mattress.

"Emergency meeting," Hange announced with urgency.

"I'm not a Captain," I complained, lifting my head to peer at them.

"Everyone is required to go," Hange explained. "It's some big news you don't want to miss."

"Tell me later," I mumbled, shoving my face back into the bed.

Hange's grip on my arm tightened, and suddenly I found myself on the cold floor, the warmth of my bed snatched away.

"We have to go. We seriously cannot be late," Hange urged, dragging me out of the room, my uncoordinated form stumbling in tow.

The hallway was a chaotic stream of scouts heading towards the mess hall, clad in uniforms I hadn't bothered to put on.

"Hange, you couldn't have let me get dressed," I groaned, glancing down at my nightgown, bare feet meeting the cold floor.

The final pull from Hange led us into the mess hall. The room buzzed with murmurs, scouts huddled together, an undercurrent of confusion weaving through the air. Still half-asleep, I tried to make sense of the situation, unsure of what had stirred everyone into this early assembly.

"Alex!" I yelled, waving my hand as I spotted him emerging from the crowd. Behind him, as always, were Miche and Oluo.

"It's happening," he declared as he joined us.

"So it's real?" Hange's eyes sparkled, their smile growing wider, hands trembling with excitement.

"Can someone fill me in on what the heck is going on?" I grumbled.

Alexander looked me over, a critical gaze from head to toe.

"You couldn't get dressed?" he scoffed, pulling off his jacket and draping it over me.

"Sorry, Hange pulled me out of bed," I explained, adjusting the jacket.

"Whatever. Next time, don't come out here looking like a fool," he groaned, scolding me.

"It's embarrassing."

I barely had time to react to Alexander's words when a familiar loud voice sliced through the crowd's murmurs, capturing everyone's attention.

"Today, the Scout Regiment sees change," Captain Erwin announced from the stairs above, his presence capturing everyone's attention.

"Our captains will be put to the test to see if they are fit to lead. Scouts will be examined for potential new captains."

Whispers surged through the crowd like a storm.

"What does he mean, 'fit to lead'?" Alexander scoffed. "Is he going to demote us?"

"Captain Erwin can't demote," I tried to reassure him.

"Starting today, I will be leading the Scout Regiment from this point on. There will be a lot of changes coming, so please brace yourselves," Erwin declared. "Tomorrow, at the first 8 o'clock hour, we will be heading out on an expedition. The main objective is to survey the area and for me to evaluate you all. Any comments, questions, or concerns can be addressed today at my office. You all are dismissed."

Erwin left, leaving us in stunned silence. Anger and panic echoed through the room in a cacophony of voices.

"What does this guy think he's doing?" Oluo exclaimed.

"Hange, did he explain this in the meeting last night?" Alexander questioned.

"No, he only mentioned becoming the commander," Hange replied.

"Then why the hell is he just now saying this?" Alexander complained. "I worked my tail off to be a Captain. I'm not giving it up now."

The confusion in the room mirrored my own state of mind. I wasn't angry, just lost in trying to understand what prompted this sudden change. Why didn't Shadis tell us himself? And why did he leave? It made sense that Erwin was to take over. He did everything for the Scouts, including initiation for the recruits something Shadis was supposed to do.

As the waves of anger and frustration crashed around me, I sought solace, walking away from the upset clusters of people to find a moment of clarity. I felt the gaze of those midwinter eyes once again. Leaning against the wall with arms crossed, he observed the chaos in silence. I took a seat on the bench next to him, offering a casual smile.

"What are your thoughts on this?" I asked, attempting to strike up a conversation as if we were old acquaintances.

"Tch," was all he let out. "Why are you out in your pajamas? You're going to catch a cold."

"Oh, this?" I replied, forgetting about my attire until the morning breeze reminded me.

"I didn't have time to change. Wasn't really given the option, either. I had just woken up." I laughed it off, feeling a bit embarrassed. Normally, I wouldn't care, but Alexander's words echoed in my mind, it was embarrassing that I was out in public in my pajamas.

Levi didn't respond, only his eyes scrutinizing me like I was a parasite clinging to his world.

"Are you excited for the next survey? This will be your second one, right?" I asked, attempting to shift the conversation away from the awkwardness of his judgmental scrutiny.

"Excited?" he responded flatly. "What's so exciting about watching others get devoured by titans?"

My attempt to lighten the mood only made the tension worse. I should've stopped talking, but I couldn't.

My words seemed to hang in the air, intensifying the awkwardness between us. "You're right. Pardon my mistake," I said, my tone trying to ease the tension. "Are you prepared? That's the more appropriate question to ask."

"No question is better," he replied with a bitter tone, and a moment of silence followed. I looked down at my lap, cringing at my own words.

"I'm prepared for whatever the commander throws my way. Are you?" Levi's voice broke the silence.

A smile crept onto my face, and I quickly looked back up to meet his eyes. They locked for a moment before he glanced away.

"I'm never prepared, but I'll be quick on my feet when the time comes," I said in a calm tone.

For that moment, it was nice to have a real conversation with him, even if he wasn't welcoming. But the moment faded as footsteps approached.

"Iris," Alexander's stern voice cut through.

I rose to my feet, meeting his glare.

"Is he bothering you?" Alexander asked, gripping my wrist and glaring at Levi.

"No," I quickly replied. "I was bothering him."

It seemed like Alexander didn't hear the last words I said. Like he wanted to ignore them. My eyes were glued to the ground, trying to ignore Alex's anger.

"Listen here, freak," Alexander's voice carried anger. "You stay in your lane, and we will stay in ours. That's an order. Got that?"

I looked up to see Levi's face completely unfazed by Alexander's harsh words. Levi only looked at Alexander's hand gripping my wrist and then back to me. Never once did I see him look at Alexander.

"Come on," I felt Alexander pull me away from the area as he walked through the crowd. My eyes still looked back at Levi as he watched us walk away.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed as I was dragged away from his line of sight.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The world outside the walls was a breathtaking sight. The sky stretched endlessly, and the towering trees seemed to touch the heavens. Flowers adorned the landscape with wild abandon. Yet, this beauty came with a price.

"Abnormal to the right!" A scout's urgent cry pierced the serene scenery.

My eyes focused on the grotesque Titan charging mindlessly towards us, a twisted grin on its face, drool trailing from its mouth. The unfolding scene was abruptly interrupted when the Titan crashed face-first into the ground, blood splattering from the back of its nape. There he stood triumphantly on its head as he wiped the blades off with his handkerchief, disgusted by the blood.

Levi's swift action had averted a potential disaster. The casualties he prevented surprised me. One more second and we all could have been trampled.

"Good job, Levi!" I cheered, but the response from others was silent. They pretended the Titan went down on its own. Anyone else and they would have been cheering and profusely thanking them.

Burning eyes bore into the back of my head as we rode toward the woods. I knew it was Alexander, anger radiating from him, but I refused to let it dominate my thoughts.

Unfortunately, avoiding the confrontation proved futile. Alexander's horse closed the gap between ours. "What the hell was that?" he asked quietly.

"What was what, Alex?" I replied, my tone tinged with irritation.

"You know what,"

"No, I don't. Care to enlighten me?"

"Praising that rat," he groaned.

"You, of all people, should know I praise everyone for their Titan kills," I shot back, meeting his glare head-on.

"Captain Wright," Erwin's commanding voice intervened.

"Yes, sir?" Alexander responded, redirecting his attention to the mission.

"Your lack of attention is going to get you and your whole squad killed," Erwin's stern warning hung in the air. "Your insecurities are glaring. Fix it before it's fatal."

Erwin rode off, leaving Alexander visibly angered. The weight of change, with Erwin now the commander, was a tension in the air above all our heads.

Erwin saved me now but later is a different story.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

The velvet black canvas stretched for miles, adorned with iridescent lights scattered across the sky. Outside the walls, the expanse of the sky was boundless, a sight I cherished every time I stepped beyond the confinement.

Sunsets during our missions held a special allure. The hues painted across the horizon were a stark contrast to the constrained skies within the walls. Tonight, I wanted to venture out to the sky that seemed to stretch endlessly, promising a sanctuary of thoughts under the moon's watchful gaze.

The moon, my confidante, awaited me. No one else looked at me the way she did—listening intently, a beacon in my darkest moments. She bore witness to all my secrets, my fears, and the tears shed for fallen comrades.

Tonight, under the celestial gaze, I yearned to share the changes within the Scout Regiment. The prospect of transformation that lingered in the air, and I couldn't wait to confide in the silent confidante above.

In the tent, Alexander's snores were louder than ever. I wanted to shove a pillow on his face to stop his snoring. Sometimes I wonder if my insomnia is because of his late night snoring. Unfortunately disturbing his rare moments of piece felt like tiptoeing around a slumbering beast, and yet, the moon beckoned.

I slipped from Alexander's arms, donned my cloak and shoes, and secured my bag, casting a lingering look at the peaceful figure beside me. The captain's serenity in sleep was a stark contrast to the grumpiness he exhibited while awake.

The crackling fire greeted me as I stepped out of the tent. Someone tended to the flames, their figure cloaked in the flickering light. It intrigued me; late-night wanderers were usually a rarity during our missions. Who was up this late tending to a fire? It didn't bother me none, it was nice to have some company for once.

I plopped down next to them without much ceremony. "Couldn't sleep?" I asked, stretching my hands towards the fire for warmth.

Silence hung in the air, but I couldn't resist stealing a glance under their cloak. "Should've known it was you," I grinned. "How are you holding up?"

Their gaze remained locked on the dancing flames. "Fine," came the curt reply.

"Thirsty?" I pressed on, brushing off the cold shoulder.

No response, no eye contact. Nothing new.

"I'll take that as a yes," I chuckled, setting a pot of tea on the fire. While it brewed, I pulled out my sketchbook from the bag, ready to capture the night's beauty.

Drawing under the moonlight brought me unparalleled peace, and having Levi's silent company wasn't about to change that. I tossed back my hood, basking in the moon's glow with closed eyes.

"You're going to ruin the tea," Levi's voice cut through my tranquil moment.

"Pardon?" I said, meeting his gaze as he lifted the kettle from the fire.

"You're letting it steep for too long," he remarked. "And the fire is too hot. It should steep for three minutes if it's on a fire."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I replied. "Want me to make a new batch?"

"It'll suffice," he said, his tone as bland as ever.

I poured him a cup and served myself one too, watching as he grabbed it from the rim, just like the first time we met. It was a quirky habit, one he refused to let go. Something so small, yet I was intrigued—I wanted to know why the rim over the perfectly good handle on the side. It was a minor detail, but I craved understanding.

While I continued sketching the dim surroundings, I decided to break the silence.

"So, how do you like the Scouts so far?"

"I don't," he replied bluntly.

"Oh, well, why's that?" I asked, still absorbed in my sketch. His straightforwardness caught me off guard, though I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Everyone's arrogant assholes who think they are better than everyone," he stated.

"For a moment there, I thought you were talking about the MP's," I chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. But my attempt fell flat, met with silence. Once again, I realized he wasn't much of a talker.

"I'm sorry if Alexander is getting to you," I said quietly, looking up at him. His eyes were already locked on me. "He wasn't always a jerk. It doesn't help that all the guys feed his ego."

"Hmph," Levi breathed out, eyes shifting away as he crossed his arms. "Like I'd let that shit bag get to me."

I smiled, my gaze lingering on him. "Good. I'm glad," I said, lowering my voice and glancing around for unwanted visitors.

"It's about time someone stands up to him. But let's keep that between us."

Once again, silence draped around us like a comforting cloak. The more it happened, the more I found solace in it. My sketch continued to capture the moon's tender caress over the land as the night unfolded.

"What is that?" Levi's voice cut through the quiet after a while.

"This?" I said, lifting my sketch.

"Yeah, that," he grumbled.

"Oh, just a sketch of the night sky," I replied casually, doodling away. "It's a beautiful night out, isn't it?"

"I guess you can say that," Levi spoke, his words measured.

"Just look at how pretty she is, Levi," I said, tilting my head back to gaze at the moon. Once again, he didn't utter a word.

"Do you not like the night sky, Levi?" I inquired.

"It's not my favorite," he admitted, a slow opening up to me. A brief pause lingered.

"Do you?"

"Absolutely. She's always there for me. Whenever you need her, she's there," I explained.

"Who is she?" Levi asked, clearly confused.

"Well, the moon, silly," I said with a playful smile.

In time Levi, you'll learn to love the moon the way I do.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

#levi ackerman #snk levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #ackerman family #levi #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot #snk #snk x reader

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milflewis · 1 year ago

Note

Gewis + ‘just trust me’

When George is seven and three quarters, he learns off all his times tables up to ten and gets his dad to quiz him at the dinner table. His mum has made them cottage pie with leftover mince from the day before. He is allowed one glass of dilute.

He gets all his sums right — his dad grinning at him as he sits up straighter, saying them faster and faster — apart from seven times seven.

(His dad still messes up his hair and tells him that he’s going to smoke that prick kid with the hair, Billy what’s his face, tomorrow and his mum rolls her eyes, peeling his sister’s potato skin off and mashing it up.)

—

When George is ten, he and his sister stay up late on Halloween and eat nearly all their sweets and watch Coraline. They swap sour worms for jammy dodgers, and suck on gobstoppers.

Their fingers smell of oranges and chocolate in the morning and George’s stomach aches for hours.

(He hates Coraline. His sister loves it, laughing at all the scenes where his heart jumps into his mouth. They watch it for five more Halloweens.)

—

When George is twelve, he has his first kiss. It’s quick and dry and kind of sore — more of a bumping of teeth together than anything else. The second time is not much nicer, if a little wetter.

He isn’t sure if kissing is for him. That’s okay, though, she doesn’t seem that into it either. The sleeve of his school jumper, where he’s always trying not to pull on the threads and failing, gets caught on her earring and it nearly comes right off.

(He is sixteen when he first kisses a boy. He’s two years older, in the class above him, and tastes of cigarettes and energy drinks and his hands are hot on George’s cheeks. He enjoys this one a lot more.)

—

When George is thirteen, the Kaiju come and flatten half of Greece.

(This is when he first hears of General Lauda and Commander Hunt and the Jaeger Program.)

—

When George is seventeen, two Kaiju break through the half built London Wall and he drags his sister all the way deep into the English countryside to stay with their aunt. He doesn’t see his mum again.

(His dad presses his face into George’s hair, voice cracking, and tells him to be good, to stay safe, that he loves him, that he is going away to make sure that the next Wall stays up. He asks him what is seven times seven and wraps his coat around George when he starts to cry.)

—

When George is twenty, he meets Alex Albon, who is tall and always smiling and knocks George flat on his back in basic training. He moves over on the bench, later on during lunch in the mess hall, jerking his chin at the empty seat beside him, spoon in his mouth. George sits down beside him.

(It’s one of the few things that George never comes to regret.)

—

When George is twenty-two, there is a four Kaiju alarm and the entirety of Western Europe duck behind their walls. Michael and Mika’s Flying Rainmaster is retired after, her pilots lost to the sea, and Webber refuses to ever get into a Jaeger again after losing Alonso.

Commander Hamilton looks tired on the tv screen, face thin, uniform buttoned up to his throat. He moves carefully now when the cameras catch him, as if he’s favouring his left side. Rosberg’s body was not recovered.

(Doctor Button punches out a reporter who tries to sneak into Hamilton’s room, Alex tells him later.)

—

When George is twenty-five, he and Alex get accepted into the Jaeger Program, and score a drift compatibility rating of eighty nine percent on their first run.

What, Alex says, trying to trip George up as they climb out of the CONNPOD, like it’s hard? George elbows him away, and Commander Vettel looks amused, jotting something down in the little notebook he always carries around.

Lewis is always trying to get me to watch that movie, Vettel says. And then continues as if that isn’t life shattering news to drop at twelve in the morning on a Tuesday in May: Get in, bitches, time to go training.

You know, Alex laughs in George’s ear, arm bony around his shoulders. I am starting to get your old man boner.

George shoves him off, cheeks hot to his frustration. It is not an ‘old man boner’. What the fuck.

Alex gives him a deeply unimpressed look. George comes very close to regretting him. George, mate, kid, you do know that your boner being just for Hamilton is, like, way more embarrassing than just having one for old guys in general.

(George steals all his fluffy socks, even the really nice expensive ones.)

—

When George is twenty-five, he watches Bottas and Hamilton spar each other with wooden sticks.

He watches them circle each other, defence flowing into offence and back out again, footwork like a dance, one step forward for every one step back. He wants like nothing before in his life.

(It sticks to the back of his throat and stays there for a very long time.)

—

Who is Charlie, George thinks, fingers feeling all tingly and weird as he remembers a man with messy hair and strange pants laughing at something he says. Something Alex says.

Charles, George remembers, seperate from Alex. He works for Bottas; one of his nurses. He reset George's right shoulder a few weeks after it had dislocated. Again.

And then, because Alex is terrible and deserves it, George asks it out loud. "Who is Charlie?"

Their comm crackles. "Can you repeat the question, Ranger? We didn't catch that." Bono sounds amused.

George laughs, the drift between them shivering with it, as Alex scrambles to answer, ears red.

��

When George is twenty-five, his sister, aged twenty two, graduates from college with an engineering degree and heads right to the French Wall to work. George isn’t able to go to the ceremony. He also isn’t able to convince her that working in the safety of a Shatterdome would be more worth her while. He calls her and they both pretend like they aren’t crying.

Hamilton finds him later that night, head slumped onto the cold metal counter of the kitchen island. His cup of camomile tea is cold in front of him. His mum used to drink it.

George watches his hands as he takes the lids off of tubes of ice cream, scooping out spoonfuls into two bowls. He wonders if his tattoos feel any different than his unmarked skin and feel silly with it.

Hamilton tells him about his brother, Nic, and learning to be a Ranger with Rosberg in the bunk below him, Bottas the one below that, and Alonso in the bunk above, Button across the room with Vettel under him.

“Probably a miracle this place is still standing,” Hamilton remarks, dry. His face is terribly soft. He looks like he’s been through the wash one too many times.

George must make a face when Hamilton finishes with the chocolate sauce and shakes out salt into his palm.

“Listen,” he starts, already grinning. It transforms him, his whole body moving with it. “Just got trust me, man. Give it a go, okay?”

“Is that an order, sir?” George asks just to be annoying. Hamilton only rolls his eyes, flicking the last bits of salt at him.

It’s delicious, even with the salt, or maybe, perhaps, because of it. George ignores the smugness radiating off of Hamilton.

He tells him instead of his dad buying books upon books of sudoku because his mum likes to do them while they watched nature documentaries. He talks about how his sister’s pockets had to be checked before she came inside every evening, for any creepy crawlies that she decided needed a warm home for the night. The story about when Alex and him got lost in Tokyo, each missing a shoe, sends the older man into giggles.

(This is the moment that Commander Hamilton becomes Lewis, ice cream in the corner of his mouth, eyes tired.)

—

Seven times seven is sixty three.

—

His and Alex's Jaeger is an old Mark Three one, still half powered by a nuclear reactor. She’s clunky and big and they fight with a massive long-staff, crackling with electricity at the end. George loves her.

Lando takes a bit of getting used to. George wishes he’d stop calling their Jaeger his.

“Veteran,” Lando says one night, feet dangling off the platform edge. George leans back on his elbows to look at him around Alex, who only hums, arms folded over the railing.

It’s late. There is only the skeleton crew working in the Shatterdome’s garage tonight. They’ve already made their way through a bottle of Yuki’s toilet paint cleaner masquerading as alcohol.

Their chief mechanic shrugs on shoulder and turns to look at them, one leg pulling up to his chest bend at the knee. His mouth does something awkward, but most of what Lando does is awkward so George doesn’t really take notice of it. He finds it rather comforting actually.

“Because they’re always going on about how young you guys are. The Rookies and whatever. And, like, fuck,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I get so much shit for my age here too. Be ironic and all that.”

“Veteran,” George says, trying it out. He likes how it fits in his mouth.

“Probably better than Geriatric Fuck,” Alex admits, and they’re all silent for a moment before cracking up.

—

Whenever they drift, Alex likes to lightly trail his fingers through George’s want for Lewis. He runs his knuckles over the backs of longing and warmth and terror and relief and lust and that sweet aching joy that sits in George’s chest when he makes Lewis laugh.

He rarely says anything. Just stands there as George clears his mind, humming softly. He told George once that it’s one of the few parts of George’s mind that is quiet.

“You think too much,” Alex likes to remind him, which George thinks is a bit unfair because Alex once woke him up at three in the morning when he nearly fell out of his bed in excitement, having finally solved Sebastian’s puzzle after hours of staring at the ceiling.

“You think too little,” George replies instead and the shape of Alex’s smile curls around him in the drift as they move as one.

—

Lewis likes to read.

Lewis specifically likes to read fiction. Romance if he can get his hands on, and he loves fantasy or anything sci-fi.

“I’m a bit weird about space,” he says, smiling sheepishly. It is only slightly less devastating than Lewis’s smiles generally are.

I’m a bit weird about you, George thinks. “Space is cool,” he says, and wants to die.

“Yeah,” Lewis says, slow and amused. “So cool.”

They’re sitting down at one of the corner table in the mess hall. George looks at the stupid spoon they gave out with his potato and leak soup in despair.

“I have a book I think you’ll like,” he tries.

Lewis, because he is made to make George feel insane with everything he does, honest to god, perks up. “Yeah?”

George nods, blowing at his soup like a twat. Somewhere Alex is laughing and doesn’t know why. It’s so hot though. He hates when he burns his mouth.

“About bounty hunters in space. There’s pirates too. I’ve written in the margins though, just rubbish really, but you’re welcome to borrow it, if you want?”

Lewis grins at him. “I want.”

Holy cow.

“Can I write my own thoughts in it too? I can use a pencil if you want.”

George thinks he might give Lewis his firstborn if he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he says casually.

—

George finds himself scribbling arguments to counter Lewis’s comments across dozens of books. Some of them are his. Some of them are Lewis’s.

Lewis is sharp and funny and George disagrees with half the things he says but the other half come a such a wildly different angle to how he took the material that he has to sit there and piece through it.

He gets ink on his fingertips as he traces some of Lewis’s words, laughing quietly to himself.

“Normal people send nudes,” Alex murmurs sleepily on the bed across the room from him. George lifts his head, pulling a pillow from behind him to chuck it over at him.

—

When George is twenty seven, he starts to think that maybe Lewis might —

That he might look at George too and —

That Lewis might maybe too.

(When Alex catches this in the drift, he laughs so hard he ends up disconnecting completely. General Susie Wolff is not that impressed.)

Valtteri Bottas is in Italy when the Kaiju attacks. Lewis Hamilton is not. He stayed behind in the Tokyo Shatterdome to welcome in the new cadets.

George has never seen Lewis scared before. He decides he doesn't like it.

"We'll get him," he tells Lewis, wasting precious seconds to stand there in front of him, in his piloting suit, because he couldn't just walk past a Lewis who looks as lost as he does. "We'll get him," George says again, even though the very first thing they tell you is to never ever make promises.

I'll get you your Alex, George thinks, and they have never drifted together before, and never will, but he thinks Lewis understands him anyway. He nods at him and sets his shoulders, broad and unfaltering. George sees, not for the first time, how he is the only person to ever successfully pilot a Jaeger on their own.

"See that you do, Ranger Georgie."

George groans, walking away backward. He's going to kill Lando one of these days. Lewis smiles, eyes still tight at the corners, and George can't help but say, "Just trust me."

When George is strapping in minutes later, Alex a comforting noise beside him, he thinks of how Lewis's face went all slack and blank for a moment before he looked away, jaw tight. I do, Lewis had said then, quiet, and it had sounded like something else.

Seven times seven is sixty three, George reminds himself like he always does before drifting, clearing his head until there's nothing but quiet.

#i hope u got some sleep a promise is a promise this is how much i love u. all of it and all of it and all of it #gewis #flash fic #mark tag #niamh.asks

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