#if anyone is not aware of miamis well. now you are

[grandprix-ao3]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

AH. okay. hello. well i Am my own biggest fan so. my favorite five fics that i've written?? forgive me

boyish: this fic is actually trying to kill me in real life. it's what i get for deciding i could be the longfic i wanted to see in my favorite rarepair tag. hi i know this i'm on grandprix rn but are you aware of how i feel about loscar

the midpoint between the water and your name: !!! i wrote this whole thing in one sitting which is dumb but i reread it recently and i still love it so much. not to sound conceited but underrated imo. + stop sleeping on sargewood @ society

shark bait: what happens when you fuck around and find out. still holds up. i love college aus

the red parts: sometimes i think about secret omega logan and i can confirm it still makes me crazy so glad there remains a shred of whatever insane thing possessed me to write this in four days

my guy's pretty like a girl: this one was very self-indulgent so it's no wonder i like it so much... no further comment available at this time

and thank you for sending this to me <3 sorry it's all logan sargeant slashfic but. recency bias logan sargeant bias i'm insane et cetera

[kinzis-writing]

Surprises | Josh Allen (Buffalo Bills)

Summary: Y/N ends up surprising Josh at one of his games, which leads to Josh knowing that he has to play his best to impress his woman.

Pairing/Fandom: Josh Allen x Wife! Reader (NFL)

Requested: Yes/No @thedoveesquire

Warning(s): none that I am aware of! Also the game is going to be a buffalo home game for the plot so!

*Not edited*

Y/N's heart ached at the way her husband had left their house upset. Her husband was the quarterback of the Buffalo Bills, and they were playing the Miami Dolphins today. She had told her husband that she would not be able to make the game, because when she woke up, she had every intention of going to her friend's birthday party. That was until her best friend texted the group chat last minute saying she was sick and rescheduling her birthday celebration.

It wasn't that Y/N was putting her friend before her husband, it was the fact that the celebration was planned before the NFL couple knew Josh's NFL schedule this season. Now that her plans were cancelled, she was planning on surprising her husband at his game. She knew that he got anxiety before all of his games, no matter how many times he stated it was not anxiety. She was guaranteed a season pass in the VIP box, seeing as she was married to the quarterback.

After getting herself ready, she left their house and headed towards the bills stadium. Her custom jersey that had been made for her was what she had chosen to wear. This would have been one of the first games that she had missed, she tried her best to make as many games a season as she could. Y/N usually made all the home games but struggled with away games sometimes.

Getting to the stadium was hectic with the traffic, seeing as many people were trying to find parking spots and there were people walking to make it into the stadium. Once a parking spot was found, Y/N slipped her VIP ticket around her neck and headed towards the stadium. Once inside the stadium she was quickly escorted to the Bills VIP box and left to herself with other significant others and parents there as well.

"Y/N! I'm so happy you're here, Josh said you weren't going to be able to make it." LaVonne Allen spoke as she noticed her daughter-in-law. Unlike most people, Y/N had a great relationship with Josh's family the same way that he was loved by hers.

Y/N quickly pulled Josh's mother into a quick hug before backing away, "Plans changed last minute." she explained to the woman before grabbing a bottle of water and going to sit down next to her in-laws.

"I'm sure Josh will be happy to have you here." Joel stated upon seeing his daughter-in-law wearing his son's jersey number.

"My plan was to surprise him." She spoke standing next to her added family.

It was only a matter of time before the stadium was filled and the two teams were announced on the field. The national anthem was sung, and the game was kicked off with the bills having the ball first.

The game started off a bit slow, seeing that the bills had turned over the ball in the first couple minutes and that the dolphins were in the Bills territory. It made Y/N anxious to see how the bills were playing and she knew her husband better than anyone. He wasn't focused on the game the way that he should have been.

After Miami had kicked a field goal and missed, the Bills had the ball back and was running it down the field. Once the second quarter came, the bills were at 1st and 10, with Miami using a timeout. While timeout was happening, the NFL tv cam turned to the VIP box to capture Y/N, since many fans know of her and Josh being married.

On the field, during timeout Stefon lightly hit Josh getting his attention. "I thought you said Y/N wasn't coming?" He asked.

"she isn't." Josh muttered before turning his attention back to the huddle.

"She's here, man." Stefon told him before pointing up to the Bills VIP box. Stefon waved at Y/N before turning back to the huddle.

Josh wore a grin on his face as he noticed his wife standing next to his parents, in the place she always was for home games. Eventually, he tore his gaze and got back to his team. "We got this, let's go out here and win!"

Stefon gave him a pat on the back with a smirk before it was time to resume the game. He made a mental note to thank Y/N later.

After Josh had noticed his wife at the game, it had taken a big turn. The bills kept getting touchdowns every time they had the ball and they had even stopped Miami from getting far.

At half, the bills were up 35-0, which was rare for Miami to not score anything. It was just proof of how amazing the bills were doing and how they had stopped the dolphins before they could get anywhere or they had thrown interceptions and given the bills the ball.

"Josh is doing great." Y/N spoke to her mother-in-law as she took a sip from her plastic cup.

"Because his good luck charm showed up." Mrs. Allen told her new daughter, making sure the younger girl knew that she was her son's good luck charm.

Y/N blushed at the comment before taking another sip of her drink to hide her red cheeks. Josh had told her multiple timed that she was his good luck charm, even before they tied the knot. It made her feel warm on the inside to know he thought that, but she knew it was all in his head.

"Mrs. Allen." A deep voice spoke coming up behind the two women. Both turned towards the man, "Josh is requesting to talk to you for a moment." the security guard spoke to the younger woman. Y/N placed her drink down on the table beside her before following the security guard out of the VIP box.

She figured that she would be going to the locker room, just because halftime would be over soon and they would be going back on the field. The security guard led her exactly where she felt she was going to go. Y/N thanked him before walking inside the room slowly.

"Can I just say that you are the best for coming here." Stefon spoke as he blocked Y/N path to her husband. "We would've lost over him sulking about you." he added.

Y/N let out a laugh, "I'm glad I could help." she joked before going around him. She knew Josh would probably be towards the back seeing as he liked to do his "pre-game ritual." Which she knew was his anxiety, but she lets him call it what he wants.

"Did you need me, Mr. Allen?" Y/N asked softly, getting Josh's attention so he'd look at her.

Josh grinned seeing his wife in her jersey, "I always need you." He replied pulling her into a hug. Y/N gave him a squeeze before leaning back a bit. "What happened to Y/F/N's birthday?"

Y/N shrugged, "She's sick, so I decided to surprise my husband."

Josh nodded, his hands running up and down her sides. "Definitely surprised." He muttered before leaning closer trying to steal a kiss, only to be met with her finger.

"You know I try not to be rude, but your so called 'pre-game ritual' is gross and you're going to have to brush your teeth before I kiss you." Y/N explained pulling her finger away.

"Already did." he stated in a 'matter of fact' manner. "I know you, baby, we've been together long enough for me to learn you."

Y/N rolled her eyes before placing her lips on his for a moment before pulling back. "I'm going to go find my place, I will see you after the game." she spoke softly before placing one more kiss on his lips and leaving the locker room. The boys were outside waiting for Josh by the time she was returning to her seat.

After the game started back up, it felt like it went by fast. The bills ended up winning 41-0 and all the Bills fans were happy for the home team. Everyone was trying to leave the stadium, or they were lined up outside trying to get someone to sign something or meet one of the players. Y/N had decided to wait for her husband to get done with post-conference and then travel home together.

"There's josh's wife!", "I wish I was her.", "How'd she get so lucky to marry Josh Allen?" conversations were going on around Y/n as she walked herself with a security guard towards the locker room. It was no secret that she got some hate every now and then. That's why Josh always made sure that she was escorted by someone at all timed. She made sure to wave at the ones who were taking pictures or giving her smiles.

She always treated Josh's fans and supporters kindly. There was no reason not too and she loved being able to make someone's day just because she knows Josh.

"Thank you!" Y/N told the guard kindly when she stopped outside the locker room. She knocked on the door before pushing it open and peeking her head in with her eyes covered. "You guys decent?"

a course of "Yeah's" was heard before she uncovered her eyes and slipped into the locker room. Most of the guys were shirtless from just taking a shower but had the rest of their clothes on.

"Congratulations, you guys!" she spoke loudly as she made her way further into the locker room. The coach never truly liked her being in there, but he never said anything to her. It wasn't a very common occurrence, only for certain days. The men thanked her before going back to what they were doing. Making her turn back to her mission to find her husband before his post conference. "There you are! How did Josh Allen manage to pull a 41-0?" Y/N asked as Josh slipped a fresh shirt over his head.

"My good luck charm was here, and I knew I had to impress her." He shrugged as he walked closer to her.

"You already have me for the rest of our lives," She replied as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You don't have to impress me anymore."

"I do." He assured. "All because you agreed to marry me doesn't mean I'm going to stop dating you babe." He mumbled before placing a soft kiss on Y/N's head.

"I love you so much." Y/N whispered, playing with his damp hair from his shower.

"I love you more and that's a promise." He replied back pressing his lips to hers.

*Not edited*

Author's Note: I hate the way I ended this, but I hope it was okay. I wish I could have written this a bit different, but it is what it is. I honestly love writing NFL request right now. There are so many guys that are worth writing for that I may have to update my list! My cousin has been bugging me to write for Aaron, but I am not sure about that yet.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Drive Safe Part 3 Preview

Jack played with his phone in his hands contemplating calling your older sister, Danielle, but had a strong feeling that she wouldn't want to hear anything that he had to say.

But he had to try.

He was willing to do absolutely anything to get you to forgive him and get him to marry him again. Even though you told him that marriage was definitely off the table, in the back of his mind and deep down he knew that if he wasn't able to get married to you again that he wouldn't get married again at all. You were the love of his life and he ruined it.

Before he backed out, he quickly hit her number to call her as his heart was damn near beating out of his chest.

And now he was hoping she didn't answer.

But luck wasn't on his side and she did.

“Hello?”

“Dani, it's Jack.”

“I know. I have something called caller id on my iphone.”

“Umm….”

“What do you need?”

“Um, for your little sister to stop ignoring my calls and talk to me.”

All Dani did was scoff before responding.

“And you think that you deserve to talk to her after what you did?” Dani asked and now Jack was starting to regret ever picking up the phone to call her.

“Dani, she's pregnant.”

“I am aware. I was there when she took the test. What's your point?”

“Dani, please. I just want her to talk to me so she can hopefully forgive me and we can get back together.”

“Jack, I told you to do one thing when it came to her. ONE. Do you remember what that was?”

“Take care of her.”

“Hmm, and did you do like I asked?”

“Well…”

“No. You didn't. Instead you hurt my baby girl and quite frankly, I’m surprised she stayed with you as long as she did. That girl LOVES you and would do anything for you, but instead you let your little fame get to your head. As much as she would call me crying all times of the night over you, you honestly think you deserve to be in a relationship with her again?”

“I know I've messed up and that I've hurt her, but all I want to do is make it right. I don't want anyone else or be married to anyone else. I didn't even want to sign the divorce papers!”

All Dani did was sigh before responding.

“You better listen to me and listen to me good. I will do what I can, but it is ultimately her decision. If she gets back with you, fine. I'll support it. If she doesn't, I'm also going to support it. But one thing I'm not going to tolerate is you disrespecting her. That is the mother of three of your big headed children, so give her the respect she deserves. She's in Miami and I'm going to check on her so I'll do my best to see if she’ll talk to you. But, no promises."

[lostinlewis]

Miami....

Rating: M

Words: 3336

Miami, it held so much potential. A place that was blessed with heat more often than not, a place filled with the best food, the best parties, and a culture quite unlike another. Miami was supposed to be the chance for you both to let loose for a week, it was supposed to be where the months of hard work, the weeks apart as he raced across the world whilst you stayed home, all paid off. This was the week that granted you both enough time, and privacy, to really enjoy your relationship. That fell to the wayside a few hours after arrival. 

The sun rays burned into your skin as you walked through the paddock alone, for the first time ever. You were very aware that should anyone spot you, Lewis Hamilton’s girlfriend, alone and having arrived before he did, you would be hounded with a thousand questions. You thanked all of the Gods for how ridiculously crowded the paddock was today, normally you would have struggled with a crowd this size, but today it allowed you to blend in, to disappear amongst the sea of other overdressed people, as you headed straight for general hospitality, rather than your usual Mercedes suite. 

You were almost there, your destination and hiding place for the day was within your eye line now but all at once you felt the atmosphere of the paddock change and you knew what that meant. First there was a silence that fell, you often thought of it as an awestruck pause in the world, a moment when the crowds forgot their conversations and all turned to look at the usual culprit. Then there was the sudden excitement that hit all at once, where the once muted crowd of spectators, both fan and photographer alike, chattered with enthusiasm. Lewis had arrived. 

Fuck. 

You cursed the fact he had arrived early, well early by his standards anyway, you cursed the fact you hadn’t yet arrived at your hiding spot and quickly you looked around you for shelter. There was not one single part of you that wanted him to notice you, but every single part of you wanted to see him. 

Stood in the entrance of the Ferrari hospitality suite, you peeked down the paddock to where the crowds had gathered, unable to see him at first due to his not so tall frame, but when you did, it quite literally took your breath away. 

Double fuck. 

Lewis always looked good, in fact in all of the many months you had been together you had never seen him look anything but impossibly good looking at all times, but today…today he had outdone even himself. 

He sauntered through the paddock, the swagger of his walk was laced with the knowledge of how undeniably good he looked. Dressed in a tracksuit of which it was mainly red but for a few smaller grey sections, from a distance it looked pretty normal for him but you knew better, you could see those tattoos for which you had traced with your tongue many a time, he had his Adonis like body on full display to the world and you knew the next few minutes were about to be a torture like no other.

You looked down at your dress and shook your head, Law Roach had done it once again, had you been with Lewis as planned, you would have matched perfectly with his outfit. You couldn’t deny the fact that today’s looks were the kind that fans would fawn over for months, even years, to come. Thanks to Lewis, everyone was being denied that opportunity. 

Photographers fell over each other, and themselves, as they raced after him to get the perfect picture as he made his way directly to the Mercedes garage. The ten minutes it took between Lewis arriving at a paddock and Lewis reaching the Mercedes garage every race weekend played out exactly the same. The photographers all knew the fans would go wild for a picture of him, but especially for a picture of him looking like that. Sometimes you would beat them to it, on a race weekend of which you thought he looked exceptionally good, you would take a candid photo of him for your Instagram story, before even arriving at the track. It was your little way to give the fans a little something of what they wanted, Lewis just being Lewis, something you were one of the few who ever got to see that. 

You thought you were hidden enough out of sight, you thought it impossible for him to spot you, but you were wrong. As he walked past the Ferrari suite, he waited until he was directly in front of you to turn towards you, his walking pace having slowed quite considerably but he never stopped completely. No one else would notice him stare, he was subtle, but his gaze was anything but. His eyes trailed from your own, slowly drawing down your whole body, his smirk growing with intensity as he took you in fully. 

You were fairly certain you had not breathed the whole time in which he scanned you, Lewis’ attention often did that to you. Whilst he looked, it gave you the chance to look at him, to really look at him. There was not one single flaw on the man, his hair braided to perfection, his skin flawless, his body something most men dreamt of, he was incredible, both inside and out, yet all you could focus on was the not quite tight enough tied drawstrings that just about held up his pants. Within seconds, your mind wandered to how easy it would be for you to untie them, to pull the drawstrings apart, and get to the part of him you could never resist.  

He was yours, your boyfriend, the unequivocal love of your life. Nothing about Miami was fair, not the argument you had the first day you arrived, not the fact that he had been kept from you all weekend, and definitely not the fact that he would now be walking around all day with you absent from your usual spot by his side. You didn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved past you, and into the Mercedes garage. You couldn’t deny it, he looked good but more importantly, more heartbreaking, he looked single. Did he think he was single? Was he single? Nothing about the last 48 hours answered that uneasy question. 

The bottom of a Mojito glass was the perfect place to drown your sorrows, that’s why you had so quickly moved onto your second, and then third, hoping to make it through the day as numb as possible. You were tired of feeling, you were exhausted by the question of Lewis being single pummelling you from the inside out. You were about to order your fourth when your phone screen lit up on the table next to where your glass sat, ‘Lewis’.

‘Is it bothering you yet?’ 

‘What?’

‘The fact that I look this good today. You could be with me in this room right now, taking what is yours, yet you’re sitting three cocktails deep in general hospitality.’ 

You looked around you to see if he was there, how did he know exactly what you were doing? But of course he wasn’t, he just had security sat a few tables away to watch over you. Even when you were fighting, his priority was your safety. 

‘I want you here, with me.’

A message that tugged at your heartstrings until your aggravation took hold once more. A message that before this weekend, you would have swooned over for hours, now felt empty, like something he just said when he was overcome with desire, not love. 

‘Maybe those girls will appreciate the way you look in my absence.’ 

Lewis didn’t reply after your last message, you knew he wouldn’t. It was a fly away comment that triggered this fight, your longest and most serious to date, a comment in remembrance with his friend as he recalled a New Years Eve he had spent right here in Miami a few years ago. At first you were barely even paying attention to the conversation they were having, you were used to them reminiscing about the memories they shared, it wasn’t until you heard the enthusiasm in his voice as he recounted a private party they had back in his hotel room, that you really began to listen. 

You weren’t ignorant to the fact he was very liberal with his dick before you, you knew that before you even went on your first date and it didn’t bother you, much. You had never been the jealous type, never been one to obsess over your partners talking to or about anyone else, yet hearing him retell a night, minus the gritty details for your benefit, was a whole different matter. His voice was filled with excitement, but worst of all, it sounded like he missed it, like he missed being single, and it ate away at you from the moment you heard it. 

There was a coldness about you for the rest of that night, and for a while he didn’t seem to notice, but the moment he did, he didn’t stop asking you what was wrong, right up until you exploded at him when you were finally alone together. 

“Babe, what is your problem tonight?” The frustration in his voice was clear as you brushed him away when he went in to kiss you. 

“You really want to know? It was that story, those girls...” 

Lewis rolled his eyes and left you where you stood, to throw himself down on the end of the bed in frustration. 

“Am I supposed to never speak about life before you? Babe, you knew when you met me that I had a past.” 

“It’s not your past, Lewis, it’s the way you tell it. You miss it, you miss being single, and it shows.” 

“You’re being ridiculous right now. We’ve been in Miami only a few hours and already you’re ruining it.” 

“I’m ruining it? Fine. I’ll make your time here real easy for you.” 

That was the last thing you said before you left. You left the room, you left him, and now it had been two days since you last spoke, before that little text exchange that was. Sure, he had attempted to reach out to you a few times. Missed calls late at night, when you knew he was avoiding sleep, but you never once called him back, you had nothing to say to him anyway.

You watched both FP3 and qualifying from a foreign place, amongst the guests that had paid extortionate amounts to be there, yet none of them really seemed to pay attention to the actual motor racing and instead spent their time taking selfies and getting incredibly drunk. You paid attention though, you watched him struggle with his god awful car, your stomach engulfed in the usual nervous butterflies as you willed him to just make it through safely. 

‘Congrats on P6, good job.’

The intention behind your message to Lewis was not to initiate conversation, more to congratulate him after the hardest start to a season he had had in such a long time, yet you couldn’t help but feel disappointed when he didn’t respond. What did you want from him? You weren't sure. 

On what must have been the hundredth check of your phone to see if you had missed his notification, there was a knock on your hotel room door. You were trying your best to ignore it, nothing good ever came from an unexpected knock at night, but the person was persistent, the knocks got louder until you had no choice but to answer it.

“What are you-“

Before you even had a chance to finish your sentence, Lewis walked past you and into your room. 

“As you won’t come to me, I thought I would come to you.” The distance between you both grew smaller as he made his way towards you. “You looked beautiful today, that dress…it was all I could think about.” 

“Lewis…I-“ 

Your words interrupted once more as he stood only inches from you now, stroking his fingers down the side of your face whilst he stared into your eyes. He was touching you, studying you, as if this was the first time he ever had; you were as nervous as you were the first time you were alone with him, too. 

“You really think I would even look at someone else when I have you?” His finger brushed over your pursed lips, his eyes following its direction. “Your jealousy is sweet but completely unnecessary, you’re all I think about, you’re all I need…”

With his words not quite hitting the way he wanted them to, his other hand reached for yours and placed it on the part of him that would show you. 

“This is what you do to me, do you feel how fast it’s beating?” You didn’t pull away, instead the elevated beat of his heart was quite endearing. “And this…”

Lewis moved your hand down his body until you felt your favourite part of him, swollen and hungry for you. 

“I’ve been hard since I saw you in the paddock earlier today. Do you understand now?” 

You nodded your head rather unconvincingly, you wanted to believe, you really did, but a small speck of doubt lingered within you. 

“Baby, you are all I think about, you are more than I could ever hope for in a woman, you are-“

You interrupted his sentence this time, you threw yourself at him as if drawn to him by a magnetic field, you kissed him. 

For a while you stayed in the same position, your lips joined, your body so close against his you could feel his heartbeat with the same rapidness as before, your closed fists rested against his chest. 

Lewis placed both hands on either side of your face as he pulled away from you, not wanting to break complete contact, as he looked at you once more. 

“Let me show you.”

You gasped as Lewis bent down and picked you up in one quick scoop. Your thighs crashed against his huge biceps and your ankles locked together behind his back. It was only a few steps to the bedroom, but for those few steps you took in as much of him as possible. 

His eyelashes enviably long, fluttered with vigour as he fought back the urge to take you on the floor right then and there. His lips tinged with the colour of your lipstick, were swollen from the intensity of your kisses. His smell, a musk combined with his natural scent, played to your attraction to him. Nothing attracted you quite like his smell did, you quite often laid on him post workout, just to smell the scent you loved the most. 

Sometimes Lewis would throw you down on the bed with little care, so desperate he was to be inside of you, but not tonight; tonight he laid you down as if you were the most delicate flower before he climbed on top of you. 

It was unclear who made the move, it was unclear which one of you stripped the other first, but in between an entanglement of kisses, you found yourselves bare but for the body of the other. 

He rose up on his hands placed either side of your head, his gaze unable to break from yours as you felt him press into you. Your lips parted with a gasp as he stretched you, his with a soft groan. You had both felt this moment a thousand times before, the first thrust, but it never failed to surprise you both with how good it felt. 

Lewis thrust in and out of you slowly at first, his eyes still locked on you as he watched your face contort with the pleasure every stroke gave you. It didn’t take long for him to fall into a rhythm he always favoured, with your legs hooked over his shoulders, he stroked you deeper now, with a quicker pace.

“Take it, beautiful, take all of it…it’s yours, only yours.” 

Faster now, with strokes that seemed to hit you deeper each time. He knew it wouldn’t be much longer for you now, he could feel your orgasm teeter near the surface before you even knew it was there. He was so attuned to your body, so perfectly able to provide exactly what you needed, at times you were adamant his dick was quite literally made to fit you. 

Your nails drew along his broad back as your breathing laboured to a halt, your orgasm was so close now, his was too. He groaned louder, his stride almost broken by every contraction of your walls, every whimper that escaped your lips. He was trying his hardest to hold on, to wait for you to ride your high out for as long as possible, he always did, but right now it was impossible. 

His own explosion hit with a sloppiness quite unlike him, the moment he felt your finish, he let out a curse word as if he wasn’t expecting it and then thrust deep inside you, releasing everything he had as he moaned out to you in appreciation. 

“Thank you, Baby. Thank you, thank you…” 

Lewis didn’t move, he didn’t climb off of you to roll over and recover, nor did he immediately rush to clean himself up; he stayed with you, he stayed inside of you, he always did. With the little energy he had left in him, he soothed you to sleep underneath him with the softest kisses, whilst he thrust ever so gently inside of you, desperate to feel the tightness of your walls around him for as long as possible. 

“What are you doing?” You were awoken by the sounds of Lewis shuffling around the room, placing your clothes inside the bags you had taken with you. 

“Packing your things, you’re coming back with me.” 

“Can this not wait until tomorrow? I’m tired, come back to bed. Please.” 

Checking your phone, you realised it was 2:30am, a ludicrous time for Lewis to be packing your things. 

“Ange will be coming to get me early in the morning for our run, I need to be in my room when she does.” 

“Fine, I’ll come by when you’re back then.” 

“No babe, you don’t understand.” Lewis sat on the edge of the bed where you lay. “I want to come back to you, curled up in bed, just like now. I want to climb in beside you, still sweaty from my run, and lay with you for the few short hours before I race.”

“That’s sweet, but can I not just sleep for a little while longer?”

“They are the moments I cherish most, you know? Not the parties, not the sex, those little moments.” He leant forward to kiss you. “My job is so dangerous that us laying together in bed before a race might be one of the last things I ever do.”

“Lewis, don’t talk like that…”

“No, you need to know. You need to know that if it happens, if I’ve spent my last few hours curled up with you in bed, just existing together, then I couldn’t think of a better way to spend them.” 

You both knew it would have been wiser to take ten minutes to head back to his room before you found yourself making love once more, but neither one of you could wait. There was never a moment with more serenity than when you were laid with Lewis on top of you, inside of you, gently rocking just enough to please you both and if you were completely honest, it was that moment that rid you of any lingering speck of jealousy. Lewis loved you, you could feel it with every stroke. 

[internetgremlin-writes]

Hiii! Congratulations!🎉

Could I request 2 & 106 with Max Verstappen🥵

Thank you!

2 - "Wait a minute, are you jealous?"

106 - "I'm going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name,"

Thank you anon!! Angry Max just hits different. And a POV switch? Hope you likey

Warnings: SMUT!!! Jealous/possessive max

Prompt night info and list to request your own ficlet/HCs here!

He'd won.

He won the first-ever race in Miami. He was the F1 world champion. He won nearly every race he finished. He was funny, charming, and sweet when he wanted to be. He thought he was pretty good lucking, tall enough and he was ripped. He had nothing to be insecure about but somehow looking across the packed Miami club to where someone else was talking to you, he couldn't help but feel like the little boy left at the gas station.

Lost, sure, but also bubbling with rage. Boiling, in fact.

Max knew he was the jealous type, but he had no rights over you. You weren't his girlfriend, in fact, you were barely his friend. But that didn't stop the fact that he was seething, his stomach feeling like a ball of snakes as he watched the guy touch your arm. He was too close, far too close. Whispering in your ear, his other hand tucking your hair behind your ear. Max was gripping the beer bottle in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were white. He was vaguely aware of someone speaking in his own ear, another stupid American who didn't understand a thing about the sport.

You laughed, and his stomach dropped through the floor because, shit, what if you really liked this guy? In the dark of the club, with sweaty bodies packed in and multi-coloured lights sweeping the floor, anyone could look hot he reasoned. But still, who were you to be flirting with anyone who looked at you? Well, you, he guessed. Because he knew you belonged to no one.

Max had met you a few months ago. You worked... somewhere in the paddock. He'd been meaning to ask you for a while but the problem was, whenever you were around Max didn't want to do much talking at all. You didn't seem to mind, because every time he saw you it ended up the same way. In his driver's room, against one of the lorries, in the back of his car, he didn't care so long as it was you that he was coming undone over. It was strictly casual, he knew that, no strings attached. You barely knew anything about each other but that didn't stop the fact that he was completely consumed by you.

Especially when you were here, in that stupid little dress and those stupid heels that made your legs look like literal heaven, shaking your hips to the beat of the music. He could have fucked you right there on the dance floor. Except you'd not even looked at him once.

He didn't understand it. Girls at these parties loved guys, especially the drivers themselves. And the winner? He was usually drowning in attention, he had the pick of the bunch if you will. Maybe that was why he was so obsessed with you because you were absolutely not obsessed with him.

The guy's hand landed on your ass, and even at this distance, Max could see him moving closer to you and his fingers closing around the soft flesh. He leant his head down and Max found himself completely and totally fixated on you, begging please god please don't let him kiss you, and the relief when you ducked out at the last second, allowing him access to your neck only. Still, it was enough for Max.

He downed the rest of his beer and cut his way quickly across the dancefloor. He must have had that glower he was constantly being told off about on his face because no one tried to approach him or congratulate him, and it took him less than a song's length to get close to you. Now you were so close he found himself freezing. He didn't know what to do, what if you actually wanted to be with the guy that was wrapping himself around you instead of him?

He was about to turn around and leave you to your night of fun when you spotted him. You held his gaze with confident ease and Max realised that there was no way he could leave you there even if he wanted to. He felt like a deer caught in headlights, his mind slow to catch up with his body. He decided to ignore the guy, which was hard because the little voice in his head that usually made him win races was currently screaming at him to punch him in the face and not stop until he didn't get up.

"Can I have this dance?" He finally managed, and there was a not-so-secret part of him that was thrilled when you immediately dropped the guy, who looked a little disappointed, but very quickly shrugged it off when he saw who Max was, and left the pair of you to it. You wasted no time on getting to work with Max. Your hip-shaking and twisting hands seemed aimless before, except now they were on him. Max's pants were uncomfortably tight within seconds and he could feel his resolve already dissolving right before his eyes. You were an angel, or maybe a sorceress. Because you had him under some kind of spell for sure.

Throwing all caution to the wind Max grabbed your wrist and before the song had finished you were out of the club and walking home. He didn't hesitate to put his jacket on your shoulders. It was a mild night in Miami, but you just looked so damn good in his clothes.

"Who was that?" He couldn't sound light and curious if he tried.

"Why?" He hated that you sounded so light, so unbothered.

"I just want to know," he knew he blew it already. His voice has that textbook sulk.

"Wait a minute, are you jealous?" How had you clocked on so easily? Was he that transparent around you? Your eyes were sparkling, the smile tugging at your lips teasing him, begging him to come closer to you. Max gritted his teeth. Admitting his feelings was hard enough on a good day, but now? A little drunk in front of a girl he barely knew? If he didn't think it might just give him the edge on you he would have stayed silent.

"Yes," he forced the word out, and the reward was oh so worth it. Your eyes widened, lips, full and pink and begging to be kissed, puffing out, a silent 'Oh' escaping you. Max was done. He picked up the pace, you falling into his quickstep and he didn't dare look at you or say another word to you until you were inside his hotel.

He took the stairs, three flights. It was stupid and time-wasting, but he couldn't trust himself in the lift with you. He'd fuck you against the mirror without a second thought for the CCTV cameras.

He pulled you inside his hotel room, and turned you, pushing you against the wall. Your chest was rising quickly, giving it away that maybe you liked this too. He couldn't wait any longer, his lips crashing onto, the turmoil of emotions he'd been building in the club exploding like a geyser as he pushed them all onto you. And you, Jesus fucking Christ, you.

You were moaning right into his mouth, your tongue battling with his, your hands raking through his hair, pulling harder than you needed to but it felt so damn good. You felt so damn good. It was primal, Max knew that, but he didn't care. He had gone past the point of no return and he needed you now.

"I'm going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name," he spat, not angry in the slightest with you but the thought of that guy touching you made the rage boil within him once more and before you had time to argue he had your thighs wrapped around his waist and he was thrusting into you with relentless force and fuck it was so good and you were so tight. You were making filthy sounds, his name rolling off your tongue with every thrust. Max couldn't even kiss you because he knew he'd cum the second he did.

The feeling of you contracting around him hard and screaming his name, and his name only was enough. He came so hard he saw stars, and you.

You caught his lips in a sweet kiss and Max knew he didn't have a prayer against you.

[marvelstarker-mha98]

The Runaway Distance Life Of A Little Stark Last Chapter: Goodbye isn't Farewell

Pairing: Tony Stark & daughter!Reader, Maria hill & tony stark, Friday & reader, Tony stark & The avengers, mystery murder man & Hydra Scientist, Two Mutants twins. Summary: you have read it Warning: conversation, injecting, military jet, space and stones Co author with: callikc Tag:  @venomsvl  @geeksareunique

Two months had passed since devastation landed in New York City.

Homes had been decimated, landmarks destroyed, and too many people killed.

The Battle of New York was brutal.

You were sitting quietly on the deck area of the warehouse. Your journal was balanced on your lap, a cup of steaming coffee sat comfortably at your side, and your phone was playing Rock Radio. The wind was gentle and birdsong filled the air, making it appear as if nothing had ever disrupted the peace of the state. It seemed almost impossible how quick nature had moved on.

Your brows were furrowed and you subconsciously bit your lip as you detailed your latest vacation. A trip to Florida courtesy of Director Fury. He had all but insisted you take a week or two off since all you did was work and work, therefore leading to your vacation with pay.

You had an amazing time in Miami first. It had been surreal to return to a city as vibrant as Malibu had once been and you spent the majority of your first week partying and taking in every little detail of every single place. Your second week, on the other hand, had been spent at Disney World, filling your heart with childlike glee and wonder.

As you wrote down your experiences, there was a ping from your phone which had previously been playing some hits from Def Leppard. You paused writing to dig it out and take a look, surprised to see that the host of Rock Radio had a special guest.

Your dad.

"Afternoon, folks." The host greeted with a bright tone. "That was Def Leppard with 'Animal'. The English bands really are the forefathers of rock, am I right?"

Your dad's voice spoke next.

"Apparently they just know what we like." Tony said with an air of flamboyance you were actually relieved to recognize. "You can't beat Sabbath."

"Truer words were never spoken." The host laughed. "So, as y'all can guess, I'm here on this fine Monday with the one and only Tony Stark. How's life as a superhero, Tony?"

"I prefer the word 'savior.'" He joked.

"Savior it is. What's it like?"

"Well, you got the adoring fans, the creepy fanfiction, the questionable gifts in the PO box... It's a lot."

As he went on to explain both detailed and brief parts of his new life, you couldn't help simply just listening and smiling. He'd make sarcastic quips and the usual Stark jokes and you would laugh at every one of them. Every few minutes a song would lead to a break from the interview but you waited patiently every time just to hear your dad's voice again.

After perhaps an hour, FRIDAY spoke through your phone, lowering the volume of the interview as she did.

"Miss Stark?"

You leaned back a little, surprised by the interruption. "Hey, FRI. What's up?"

"Can I ask you something, Miss?"

"Always."

"I was analyzing your vitals via the SWM system you installed and noted your heart rate spike when Mr. Stark is mentioned. The biosynthetic pathway is almost immediate."

You smiled. "That's because I'm happy."

"I'm aware of that, Miss, but I do not know why. The stories you tell me of your childhood concern a less than ideal relationship with Mr. Stark. I would compare the feeling to resentment."

"Once upon a time, yeah." Your smile gradually faded as a thoughtful look settled on your features. "It's complicated. He's changed. I guess I can tell? I'm not sure... I just know. He's patient now. A-And almost kind. Don't get me wrong, he's got a long way to go - we both do - but I'm still proud that he's becoming a better person bit by bit."

"'Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.'"

"Yeah, pretty much. Dad is complicated, but he's trying. As long as he's still got the sass, I don't mind."

"My time with you implies that all Starks are related by that one characteristic. I doubt it will go away any time soon."

"Well, you're the expert."

"Hardly." There was a pause before she spoke again. "Do you want to see him again?"

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly found yourself hesitating. It wasn't that you didn't have an answer, you just didn't know how to properly convey it.

"I do." You said quietly. "But there's a lot of things I want that I can't have."

"How so, Miss?" FRIDAY asked.

"I want to see dad again but I've got a target on my back. If I think about it and I get too close, he's at risk too. So are Pepper and Happy and Uncle Rhodey. Everyone I know."

There was a moment of silence as you took a breath.

"If I see my dad again, I don't know if we'll get a happy ending."

-

Tony stared long and hard at your journal.

There was too much information to take in and too little time to process it all. The only time he moved was to run his hands down his face and get rid of lingering tears.

The wind was soft against his skin. It was as if it were offering comfort. A gentle breeze to soothe the pain.

FRIDAY's voice broke the silence.

"Is Mr. Stark all right?" She asked.

"He is mourning (Y/n)." JARVIS told her in reply. "It's the first time I've heard him this quiet."

Tony closed his eyes for a moment, fighting a smile. "I'm not deaf."

"Apologies, sir."

"You seem at peace, boss." FRIDAY said.

Tony shrugged. "I guess there's a first time for everything. Thanks for showing me this."

"Miss made it my duty. Might I also warn you that Agent Hill has been waiting."

Tony frowned and looked around, surprised to find the mentioned agent indeed waiting patiently by the entrance to the compound. He quickly jumped up, tucking the journal away for now.

"You know, sneaking up on people is considered impolite." He commented.

The woman gave him a smug look in response. "It's a shame I don't care."

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough. Gotta say, Stark, emotional gratitude doesn't suit you."

"Very funny." He began walking over, eyeing the lot around them. "I can understand the whole 'take your time' thing. This place is pretty big. (Y/n) had it all to herself?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

Before he could reply, there was a notification on his phone. He dramatically held up one hand and used his other one to hold up his phone. It was a message from Clint on the Avengers group chat.

To: Powerpuff Girls (Remastered) From: Legolas You guys gotta check out the hangar!

Tony raised a brow, curious. It was a simple message but it intrigued him. This place had a hangar too?

"What's up with the hangar?" He asked.

"So, you've found that one." Hill stated. "I think you should come with me."

He waited for her to elaborate but was merely greeted with silence.

"Gonna leave me hanging?" He asked.

"This is something better shown than explained."

"Alright... Can I get a hint?"

"All you need to know is that (Y/n) left it to the team because she knew you'd have a better use for it than she would."

"Wow, that's so much better. Not cryptic at all."

She sighed and began walking, leaving the conversation at that. Tony was about to follow but stopped upon realizing how awkward he looked with your journal stuffed inside his jacket.

Hill noticed and had to hide an amused smirk. "Having trouble?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Unless you've got TARDIS pockets, don't mock me."

"Just leave it on a bench."

"What?"

"Leave the journal here."

"Uh... No, thanks. I'll be doing some light reading later and I'm not risking some...-" He thought up any excuse to keep it on hand. "Some wild animals taking it or something."

Hill crossed her arms. "Wild animals?"

"If I may, boss." FRIDAY spoke up again. "The only animals within the area are deer and rabbits."

He was still hesitant. "What about wild people?"

"That's even more ridiculous." Hill claimed.

"Hey, this is Upstate. I wouldn't count out the possibility."

"Look, even if that were the case, (Y/n) was clever. She has FRIDAY linked to a few drones by a WBL network. If anyone or anything gets too close to something she values, FRIDAY sends a signal and the drones retrieve it."

Tony was momentarily speechless.

"Initially the designs were to carry groceries and clear out the warehouse but she utilized them for other things."

It hurt to know you were so paranoid that you had to make plans for these things, and yet it was also quite amazing to remember how inventive you were.

"Remind me to take a look later." He said.

Afterwards, he carefully locked the journal back up and looked around for a place to put it. His gaze settled on an isolated bench surrounded by tall plants.

The journal seemed to glitter like a diamond in the sun as he set it down.

His hand lingered over the padlock before he very reluctantly backtracked towards Hill again.

"Satisfied?" She mused.

"Let's just go." Tony grumbled.

As they moved on towards the hangar, he glanced over his shoulder at the journal until it was out of view.

"How are you doing with FRIDAY?" Hill asked, hoping to distract him.

"She's unique." He shrugged. "I don't know what I'll do with her, though. A man doesn't need two AIs."

"What about the others?"

"What, the team? Like I'd entrust any of them with intelligence. Well, maybe Banner. But the others? Disaster waiting to happen. They've got limited reign over JARVIS anyway."

She thought on his words for a moment before eventually settling on an idea. "I could always use an assistant."

He raised a brow. "You?"

"Don't sound so shocked, Stark. Besides, she knows me thanks to (Y/n) and you'll always have the right to use her if JARVIS goes out of commission."

"Pardon me, Agent Hill, but the likelihood of my deactivation is near impossible." JARVIS intervened. "Mr. Stark likes me too much."

"Sorry, JARVIS." She smiled slightly. "I think I could use the help with my new job too actually."

Tony turned to her. "That's new."

"In case you missed it, thousands lost their jobs when SHIELD fell. I'm one of them."

"So where'd you apply?"

"None of your business."

"Why not?"

"Confidentiality."

"Excuse my French, but bullshit."

"Agent Hill has handed in an application for a front desk receptionist at Stark Industries." FRIDAY said.

He was surprised once more.

"FRIDAY, if we're going to be working together, we need to talk about secret keeping." Hill deadpanned.

"Apologies, Miss."

"I can't see you behind a desk." Tony frowned. "I'll tell them to reject it."

"Tony, if you-"

"No, no. Hear me out." He waited a moment to make sure she was listening before explaining. "Screw the desk job, work with me personally."

"I'm not being at your beck and call."

"Not like that. I mean being the Avengers handler or something. You know, keeping us in check and making sure we don't skip too many leg days. That kind of stuff."

Hill looked away, debating it intensely. It would be a decent cover for her SHIELD work. Not to mention that FRIDAY would always be close at hand if the Avengers or Tony needed her for something. It would definitely pay better than a desk job at least.

"We'll talk about it later." She decided.

Tony flashed a smirk. "I'll hold you to that."

By this point, they had reached the outside of the hangar. Waiting already were Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Natasha. Bruce was asking Natasha what Clint wanted to show them but apparently even she didn't know what her best friend was up to.

"So, Dora and friends, how'd the exploring go?" Tony asked once he reached them.

"It's a big place." Steve said. "There's a lot to find."

"The shooting range is nice." Natasha commented.

"I enjoyed the kitchen." Thor chimed in. "A perfect palace for a feast."

Not at all surprised by the god's priorities, Tony went to reply. He was cut off, however, when Clint bounded from the hangar doorway with an almost insane grin.

"Don't tell me you found a Playboy stash." Tony joked.

"Not exactly." Clint replied. "It's cooler."

"Cooler than Playboy?"

"Much coller."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Mind clueing us in?" Bruce asked.

"You gotta see to believe. Come on." He began leading them into the building. "I don't think it's technically legal for (Y/n) to even own this, but it's awesome."

The discussions and prodding continued until finally the object of the archer's amazement came into clear view for everyone to see.

It might have been simply hyped up by Clint, but there was no denying it was definitely something to marvel at.

While most of the team simply saw a very cool field mission vehicle, Tony saw a very advanced and very armed VTOL shuttle modified and tinkered with to the best of one's ability. It had to be one of the most tactical aero-weapons created and it had just been in this warehouse collecting dust for years.

It was painted white and red and even had the Avengers name painted on the side.

"I so told you." Clint taunted Natasha.

She returned his tease with a playful glare and an elbow to the ribs.

"What is this?" Steve asked, staring up in amazement. "Military?"

"A SHIELD jet?" Bruce also guessed.

"Not quite." Hill told them, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I think FRIDAY should do the honors."

Summoned, the AI proudly presented it. Her sudden appearance surprised the team - save for Tony - and they looked around for the source of the voice.

"Captain Rogers is on the right path." She said. "The jet is a VTOL aircraft designed for tactical and head-on mission pursuits, armed with many guns and rockets that Miss (Y/n) installed. It was originally owned by Howard Stark and Miss spent exactly eight months and twenty-six days fixing the disrepair brought on by age and abandonment."

"Uh-" Clint's enjoyment had faded into confusion. "Whomst?"

Even Thor had lifted his hammer in preparation for a fight.

"We're good." Tony assured them with an amused smirk. "Down, boys."

"Did JARVIS get a sex change?" Clint questioned, genuinely serious.

"That's FRIDAY. (Y/n) created her." His tone dampened at your name but he forced his smirk back just as quick. "I guess she runs the place."

"The JARVIS and the FRIDAY are related?" Thor guessed.

"Why didn't we hear her before?" Natasha asked.

"(Y/n) made an AI?" Bruce mumbled to himself. "Incredible."

"Oh, boy. Okay." Tony took a deep breath, preparing to answer all the questions. "No, JARVIS and FRIDAY are not related. You didn't hear her because she was with me and Hill. And, yes, (Y/n) made her. She's like JARVIS, she's got a personality and can adapt to those around her, and she's just as smart."

"I like grandpa JARVIS." FRIDAY said.

Clint found the comment funniest - even snorting - and used Natasha as a shield to avoid the disapproving glances he got afterwards for it.

"She'll be working with Hill." Tony continued.

"What kind of work?" Natasha questioned.

Hill immediately changed the subject.

"Later." She said. "I think you guys should check inside first."

"I couldn't find a hatch." Clint told her, curious. "It's gotta be camouflaged or something."

"Was there a key?" Bruce tried.

"Not that I saw."

"If we're trusting your eyesight, I'd rather check the hangar myself." Natasha mocked.

"Be my guest, Sauron."

As he said the quip, there was a loud hiss and the jet shuddered. Everyone jumped back in surprise and watched as light flooded from inside, the source being LEDs strung around the inside hull.

"Of course there is a key." FRIDAY claimed. "It's located within the laboratory. I can access it from here."

"And you couldn't tell us that before trying to give us heart attacks?" Clint shot back.

She ignored him. "Boss, you can go inside now."

Tony stepped forward. "Thanks, FRIDAY."

He was the first to place a foot on the metal hatch. Each step was burdened with a weight he couldn't describe and yet each breath was filled with amazement as he stared at the interior.

Against one wall was a seating area and against the other was a display filled with knives and guns and explosives and many self-designed weapons. Between these walls was another resting area, although this part had a perimeter of machinery, perhaps to be used as an operating area for emergency fix ups. At the very front were four seats, one for pilot and co-pilot and the other two just for passengers who wanted a better view.

-

My dad is Tony Stark.

He's brave and he's genius and he's not alone. He has his love, Pepper Potts. He has his protection, Happy Hogan. He has his friendship, Colonel James Rhodes.

There are others too. He has Dum-E, Mama Rhodes, and the Avengers.

He'll be okay.

-

Tony let his fingers glide across the interior of the jet, his skin glossing over the metallic bumps and scrapes of the work.

It was handmade.

Practically every detail he could guess was designed by you. This jet was the embodiment of your work. He couldn't even fathom how many hours you spent fixing it up. He wondered if you ever had the chance to fly it yourself.

He moved to the front and rested both hands on the piloting chair. It was leather and a little worn but comfortable, exactly like the other seats. In front of it was obviously the main window and controls.

Each button was a different color according to its function and labeled in a way that made the harmless buttons obvious but the ones that released weapons and such much harder to figure out. He assumed that because of your paranoia the system was like that in case anyone tried to steal or hijack the jet.

The main thing that stuck out to him was a yellow post-it note. As he picked it up, Clint had a quick and hushed conversation with Hill.

"This totally isn't legal." He was mumbling. "No way did she have a license for this thing."

"Nope." Hill confirmed. "She said she did flight tests around here and we just assumed she was joking."

"She's a Stark."

"Yeah. She definitely did some illegal scouts."

Back at the front, Tony studied the note in his hand.

Welcome to Aven-Jet Prime The First. She's a beauty, am I right? I built this girl from the ground up so take damn good care of her, you hear me? If not, I'll find you. - (Y/n)

He scoffed as a fond smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His other hand immediately went to the necklace he wore, gripping it so tightly his knuckles almost turned white.

He promised.

Steve watched Tony for a moment with a sympathetic look. After giving his friend some time, he finally approached and placed a hand on Tony's shoulder.

Tony turned to meet his gaze, both of them seeming very worried.

-

My dad has his team.

They weren't even friends at first. They fought and argued and had differences, but now they're something so much more than that.

They look out for each other. They have fun. They bond. And even though they still argue, they're family.

-

"Tony?" Steve asked.

A single tear fell from Tony's eye. He closed both for a moment and wiped any emotion away.

"I'm fine." He told the super soldier.

"I know." Steve replied, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. "What do you think of this place?"

"It's pretty damn incredible. I haven't explored much. Been reading."

Steve showed curiosity but Tony wasn't ready to tell anyone else what he was reading about just yet.

"I was thinking we move in." He announced, addressing the entire team.

They each held a different look but they all seemed optimistic.

"The SHIELD and HYDRA leaks are over. They no longer 'trend.' The relevance of (Y/n) Stark's death is fading, her murderer is not a priority."

"Very well. Once again, thank you for taking care of the problem."

While the Avengers talked about a new home, something else was happening on the other side of the globe.

In a desolate woodscape, there stood an old Eastern-European castle on a snowy hill. It was the stuff of fantasy novels, beautiful and isolated and calm. On the inside, however, much darker dealings were taking place.

A man in a mask removed his cover, shaking his head to get the hair out of his eyes. He shoved the mask into the pocket of a long coat and faced a second man. A scientist.

"I should leave." He claimed. "My mission is done, and you have the scepter."

"Your services are appreciated, sir." The scientist told him sincerely.

"Where is my money?"

"It will be waiting for you once we complete the transfer. If I might be so bold, is it wise to remove your guise so soon?"

The once masked man only smiled. It was a cold smile, something sinister and cruel.

"The SHIELD and HYDRA leaks are over. They no longer 'trend.' The relevance of (Y/n) Stark's death is fading, her murderer is not a priority."

"Very well. Once again, thank you for taking care of the problem."

“Before I go, what will you do with the young ones?”

He looked over at a window that separated the research area and what was evidently a testing area.

Inside were two gurneys. Strapped to the beds was a young woman and a young man, both with messy dark hair and an almost identical sparkle in their eyes. Their situation seemed terrifying but the twins were calm and perhaps even excited.

“They will be tested.” The scientist said, watching as a doctor injected something into the wires that connected the pair. “They volunteered to fight, and that is exactly what they will do.”

“Through the scepter?” The man guessed.

“Yes. We will expose them to its raw power soon enough.”

The twins looked to each other as an unidentified serum mixed with their blood. Although they couldn't physically touch they seemed to mentally communicate instead. Whatever they were saying made the woman smile.

-

Although the Avengers are big and strong and famous, sometimes they're gonna need a hand from other players.

My dad and his team can't always fight alone. Help will be coming for their next battle. Two enhanced individuals will write their own destiny into the dust of this world, and they will become heroes.

They will save lives.

-

Your grave was beautiful in the dying light of sunset.

Light trickled through the gaps in the trees and bestowed its life upon the flora that lay scattered around. It looked perfect.

Too perfect.

In the midst of all this life was a purple flower. It stood out from the rest in such a way that made it seem impossible to grow there. It looked ethereal and unnatural, but it was so beautiful.

-

My dad's team is going to need the enhanced for what's coming.

It is something bigger than SHIELD and HYDRA. Something bigger than all of us. If the Avengers can't find a way to stop it, these next few years will probably be the last.

Everyone's last.

-

Across the universe was a secluded planet.

This planet was surrounded by asteroids and wreckage, the result of a war. The ash and dust of an ancient civilization glided upon the atmosphere, their stories forever lost to the voids of space.

Circling the planet was the skeletal remains of a large creature. A broken landmass perched upon its spine, and upon this landmass stood two beings.

"Humans..." One whispered.

His voice was old. He had lived many lifetimes and destroyed even more in his endeavors, and his tone only raised into anger as he spoke.

"They are not the cowering wretches we were promised. They stand. They are unruly and therefore cannot be ruled!"

The creature he spoke to rose to his feet from a throne and the other quickly bowed his head out of fear and respect for his leader.

"To challenge them is to court Death."

The leader - the bigger and more menacing of the two - turned slightly to glance at his servant. There was a glint in his ancient eyes, something ambitious.

"It has been done before." He stated.

"Of course." The other agreed, keeping his head bowed. "If you truly wish to resurrect your love and deliver justice, we will hasten our search for the stones."

"You will. And this time you will not fail me."

"You have my word. The glorious manipulation of power, the intelligence of the mind, the bending of time, the portals of space, an alternating reality, and the-"

"That power is lost."

"We will find it, my lord. The beauty of the missing stone will shine on the universe once again. With its power to take and restore life, the soul shall be yours."

-

Your body...

It was cold.

It was skeletal.

It was dead.

The darkness of your coffin was a curse now placed on the hearts of your loved ones. They would mourn and cry but they would find a way to survive. Death was brutal but it comes, in time, to everyone.

It happened in an instant.

The darkness was broken by a glow. It was barely noticeable at first. It could have even been a dust particle. But it only got brighter. It came from the necklace resting on your chest.

The orange light filled the coffin, the very essence of life and death itself filling every inch of the space.

You thought it was your time to die.

But maybe you were wrong.

—-------------------

------------------------------------------------------------- note: Thank you everyone who read, comment and loves this! thank you for the support! its be like what a year and something months since me and my co-writer friend, callikc made this possible. since this is the end of the book, a new book will be born. So stay toon for that

[orbleglorb]

I would love to hear the aro essay if you want to write it actually

okay so i KNOW what post you're referencing but i cannot fucking find it. but it's about grollis and qais's qpp. btw you want to read the last best dream by waveridden so bad (although this deviates from that somewhat, it's what got me thinking about them)

the exact post was something along the lines of, "aro ppl can write aro characters in relationships but if an allo person wants to do that they need an essay explaining why." and i added tags along the lines of "i could write this essay about grollis and qais, even tho it's not really romantic." which is funny because i've realized now that i'm probably arospec. but anyway. then i got this ask and went "wow! i should do that" and then couldn't find the time and energy to dedicate to it. but today my body is forbidding me from doing anything that isn't laying in bed and thinking about blorbos so here we go.

grollis was formerly in a qpp with yusef fenestrate and a friend group (brokyo) with yusef, coolname galvanic, val hitherto, and gerund pantheocide. ze naturally grew apart from them, especially when they got shadowed in season 20, and fell into a weird in-between state where ze didn't definitively know where ze stood with anything or anyone. blaseball is going up in flames, hyr personal relationships are full of ambiguity, and it doesn't seem like anyone in the world has a clue what's going to happen next. grol has never handled not knowing things very well. ze's not really good at going with the flow, but ze has literally no other choice now.

qais dogwalker is the captain of the miami dale and, like, the party guy. im convinced they've never made a plan for anything. it's a good temperament to have with blaseball. after the death of their partner jenna, qais sort of lost interest in dating. they're arospec and feel romantic attraction very, very rarely. and, despite feeling aromantic attraction more frequently, they never really got over the whole watching-their-girlfriend-die-in-front-of-them thing. they're not afraid of being open or forming relationships, and have tons of friends and acquaintances, but in the back of their mind, becoming "a thing" with someone leads them into a disaster zone. one of them will die. it's happened with a ton of the big blaseball couples: allison and kichiro, tillman and declan, caligula lotus and beck whitney (that one they got to witness first hand, with cali dying the day after the dale got beck in the feedback). it seems like every other week, the tabloids are reporting on how so and so has died or been alternated or feedbacked to a different team and how it's affecting their relationship with their friend/partner/whatever. subconsciously (and somewhat consciously), qais has a superstition that once The Universe is aware that you have someone you really like, romantically or not, one of you is going to die. and, again, qais has a ton of close friends. but they're all, like, the same level of close. qais doesn't have a best friend. and it's not like they're particularly upset about any of this, but sometimes it hits them that it would be super cool to have a special someone(TM).

so grollis is in a state of trying very desperately to fight against the current, so to speak, when ze meets qais. well, ze has technically met qais plenty of times when they were playing games against each other. but back then, qais was like... a celebrity. and technically grollis is too, but ze doesn't think of it like that. the lift's fans don't even like grollis. qais seems to be universally liked. loved, even. qais talks to people easily, doesn't ever seem to get nervous, and is comfortable with being the center of attention or on the sidelines. qais has a smile that stretches ear to ear and laughs easily. qais loves being at big loud parties and acts like socializing is the easiest thing ever. grollis set foot on the party yacht once and left about ten minutes in, and that was one of the sensory friendly parties. grollis doesn't really hang out with the dale, mostly because ze doesn't care too much for a team centered on partying, but also because there's not many places to meet them that aren't a game or overstimulating. qais remembers grollis as a pitcher for the lift, and... that's pretty much it. they could recognize grollis, but they never spoke. until...

neither of them really remember why or how they started talking; they just kind of did. but, it was during season 21 party time (hosted by the seattle garages). grollis had just gotten out of the shadows and was feeling more disconnected from hyr friends than ever. qais, however, had a very uneventful* season and was pretty damn bored. qais noticed grollis's patchwork coat and came up to hyr to ask where they got it. grollis reponded by telling them ze made it, and they got into a conversation about making clothes, then fashion, then so on and so forth. eventually, one of them had to leave, and grollis had enough courage to ask for their phone number. they began hanging out fairly often, and grollis became well-known amongst the dale. conversely, grollis didn't really introduce qais to any of hyr teammates, and many of them didn't know much about qais, or that they were even friends until much later. but engine eberhardt, the one person grollis still felt somewhat close to, mostly because she refused to let them "sulk in solitude," got to know qais. as did val, who ran the beef wings stand qais frequented.

both of them share common interests in fashion, detective media, urban exploration, "bad" movies and books, movies and tv shows in general, and trying new foods.

now. this is all well and good. but what do they gain from being in a qpp? what does it add narratively? well.

first off, qais has to come face to face with that subconscious-ish superstition. although they know jenna's death affected them, they didn't realize how much it still influenced their everyday decisions. because of their (aromantic) (i cannot stess the nature of this relationship enough) (there's a capital D Difference between romantic attraction and aromantic attraction. no i don't know how it works) attraction to grollis, qais has to decide whether or not they're going to let that superstition continue to inform how they make relationships. here's someone that would love to be their Special Someone(TM), but they have to get over the fear that something bad will happen. and that fear takes the form of, like, beginning to ghost grollis a little -- not enough that it's obvious, but there's that danger of becoming too close, and then The Universe hears and strikes you dead. so qais takes longer to respond, or sometimes just doesn't. but with the help of the lazarus pit and supportive teammates, they get to process All Of That more and get back to normal with grollis.

secondly, grollis strikes me as the type of person who wants a special someone. whereas qais would be totally okay being single forever, grollis wants to have someone that's hyr go-to. ze like having someone to cuddle and kiss and talk about movies with. although ze don't want romance, per se, ze wants a partner. and! having a partner that's not only able to go with the flow, but able to do so excitedly, really helps grollis feel more comfortable not always having a plan, or knowing how ze feels.

however. grollis and qais cannot live together. they tried around season ß1 and just couldn't. grollis needs a home to be a private place of refuge, while qais needs a home to be a community center for all of their loved ones that's open any time they need. that's just inherently not compatible. so they live apart and see each other often.

*i assume it was an uneventful season. i can't find much on the blb wiki that suggests otherwise

i got really tired towards the end of this so i im posting and hoping it makes enough sense

[effervescentdragon]

valewis + pink

stole one of your web weaving thingys bcs it spoke to me bestie, i hope you like this <3

im gonna tag @lhsrainbowhelmet here just because :)

The Miami heat is different than the others - pervasive, sticky, clammy in a way Bahrain and Jeddah weren't. Valtteri likes it for being the complete opposite of the Finland heat, which always brings that bite of icy wind when he least expects it.

They are in the paddock, and it's race day. He smiles at people, waves at fans, does everything right and proper while still going over the track in his mind. It's a skill he developed early in his carreer, and the one that became absolutely indispensible after his move to Mercedes. One cannot compete with Lewis Hamilton if one isn't ready to do everything, take every opportunity, never cut any corners.

The thought derails him and he stumbles, because, well. Because he wasn't ready to do everything, was he? He wasn't ready to hurt Lewis to win, and that was, ultimately, the reason he never really did. He tries to tell himself that it was because he never got the chance to be close enough to Lewis to be able to hurt him, but Valtteri has decided a long time ago not to lie to himself.

He tries not to dwell on Lewis, but that is also one of the things Valtteri has given up on a long time ago. Lewis is radiant, so much so that his absence is felt as keenly, if not more, as his presence. Lewis is everywhere, because how can he not be? Valtteri sometimes thinks, when the sun hits Lewis from a certain angle, that gods must have sometimes walked the Earth, a long time ago, and they must have left parts of themselves here for Lewis Hamilton to exist in all his glory today.

Valtteri knows he is a lovesick fool, he knows. He's slowly coming to accept that. The distance helps, at least a bit, because he has the excuse of walking back to Alfa Romeo's (his, his, he has to remember it's his) garage now when Lewis' everything becomes too much for him to not make a fool of himself, to not grab his hand and pull him close and just hold him, shelter him from everything and everyone, take up his burdens for at least a moment stolen in time. He didn't have that luxury before, when they were in the same garage, separated with the flimsiest of barriers that wasn't even strong enough to muffle down the sound of Lewis' laugh, which was always a guaranteed distraction for Valtteri.

Valtteri signs autographs automatically, resigned to follow the map his mind has taken. All the roads lead to Lewis, he thinks as he smiles for selfies, and he doesn't know if his true smile is showing behind his media-trained one. He doesn't know if anyone would even notice, and that just makes his thoughts circle back to Lewis, because he would notice. His eyes would flash, and he'd get those adorable crinkles around them and he'd scoff, or he'd smile. Lewis was always good at seeing through the masks others put up. He still is, really. Lewis is -

-right there, in front of Valtteri, dressed in all pink.

Valtteri's mind blanks out for a second.

"Fuck," he says, then flinches. Lewis' eyes are hidden behind the sunglasses, but Val knows his eyes are all crinkled around in the corners, because he knows Lewis. "Hi," he says, and he knows he's blushing.

"Hey, man," Lewis says, and there is that humor in his voice that he rarely indulges in. Valtteri holds every instance when he heard it close to his heart. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Val says. "You look good."

You look wonderful in pink, he doesn't say. You look like you're a god walking the Earth, and you look like you're aware of it, and you look like you don't care who looks, and you look like you want everyone to look, and you look so hot I forgot my name for a moment, and you look like every dream I've ever had and you're here and you're, surreally, real.

Lewis' smile widens, and he pats Valtteri on the shoulder. The little point of contact makes Valtteri hotter than all the heat of Miami, and he swallows around nothing. "Thank you, you too," Lewis says. He squeezes Val's shoulder for a second, and then he's off, waving as he rushes to do whatever he has to do and leaving Valtteri reeling.

I know how you look when you smile, Valtteri thinks. I know how you look when you're exhausted, and heartbroken, and holding back the words that would be forgiven if they came from anyone else in this fucking world except for you. I know what you look like when you're cold, and when you're sweating too much, and when you're uncomfortable with the people around, and how you look when you're most relaxed.

I know you, Valtteri thinks as someone gives him another picture to sign. I know you, and I choose to know you, and I don't think I will ever be over you.

I don't think there will ever be a time when I'm not in love with you, Valtteri thinks, and smiles for the cameras. His shoulder burns in the Miami heat, and wherever he turns, his eyes catch glimpses of pink.

His smile, his real smile, stays on his face for longer than he expected. It doesn't surprise him at all.

[pashterlengkap]

This tech titan makes gay men feel “invincible” by helping them get free PrEP

44-year-old Tristan Schukraft recently made gay news when he purchased legendary West Hollywood bar The Abbey, where a portrait of violet-eyed Elizabeth Taylor still hangs memorializing her Sunday tea dance visits as the AIDS epidemic raged across the U.S. Schukraft has been doing his own work raising awareness and addressing the scourge of HIV. He founded Mistr, a telemedicine platform that provides free online PrEP for anyone with or without insurance, as well as STI testing in all 50 states, DC, and Puerto Rico. Related: One of world’s most iconic gay bars just got sold to HIV healthcare entrepreneur The venue’s founder said the new owner “gets what The Abbey means to people.” Schukraft thinks zero HIV infections are within our grasp, and says we owe it “to those that lost their lives at the peak of the epidemic” to get there. Never Miss a Beat Subscribe to our daily newsletter to stay ahead of the latest LGBTQ+ political news and insights. I spoke with the self-described “serial entrepreneur and aviation enthusiast” (he’s visited 109 countries) in Puerto Vallarta, where he was enjoying the “perfect time of year.” He was dressed casually in an open shirt. I was wrapped in a hoodie under a ski cap. TRISTAM SCHUKRAFT: You look cold. LGBTQ NATION: (laughing) I am cold. Tell me the origin story of Mistr. I was hearing from friends that there were all these challenges getting on PrEP, and I didn’t understand. It was easy for me, but I was part of a clinical trial.   And then around this time, the Commission on HIV and AIDS was looking for more participants, and so I went to a meeting there and it was shocking to hear that they have this five-year plan and their goals were off by like 80%. So I started looking at what the challenges getting on PrEP were, and among the issues were repeated doctor visits, the cost of the doctor visit, the cost of labs, finding a provider that’s willing to prescribe you PrEP. A lot of people go, “Oh, yeah, it must be really hard in middle America,” and I’m like, “You can go to the Valley in LA and there’s doctors that won’t prescribe you PrEP, or on Long Island in New York.” So after I hear all this, I’m like, I gotta turn this into a viable business. Otherwise, it’s not gonna work. But what really motivated me is, we have the chance to actually eliminate HIV, right? If everybody who’s negative is on PrEP, and everybody who’s positive is virally suppressed, we could do it. Given all the people that lost their lives at the peak of the epidemic, we kind of owe it to them to utilize the tools that we have in place now. Otherwise, it’s a huge disservice because they didn’t have that opportunity. You use one statistic on your site that really surprised me: Only 10% of the gay population in LA County is on PrEP. Why is that? I don’t know. Everybody who’s sexually active ultimately should be on PrEP, right? In Miami Dade County, they have mobile testing units, and people would come in and get their HIV test and they get it and walk out and nobody was talking about PrEP. That’s like a lot of government initiatives. They’re focused on HIV testing, which is great, or they’re getting people on anti-viral drugs, but they’re not supporting the others that are not HIV positive.  So now when people go to this mobile testing, we get them a Mistr card, right? Because if you’re worried about being positive for HIV, you’re a prime candidate for PrEP. It’s kind of like birth control. I mean, women should be on birth control consistently, right? They’re not having sex every day, but you’re on birth control for when that moment happens. You say gay men concerned about HIV are prime candidates for PrEP, but since HIV isn’t the lethal disease it once was, are most gay men really that concerned with HIV and AIDS? Yeah, I hear this all the time, and it’s disheartening. You know, for them, ignorance is bliss. “It can’t really… http://dlvr.it/T3Kl9Z

[mommydearestella]

WHO THREATENS TO DRIVE SOMEONES FRIENDS AWAY?

THE PEOPLE ASSOCIATED WITH THIS TERRORISM CAMPAIGN DIRECTED AT ME.  THESE IDIOTS GO AROUND THREATENING FRIENDS OF MINE AT TIMES DIRECTLY OR INDIRECTLY, TRYING TO BRIBE THEM, LYING TO THEM AND ALL IN AN ORCHESTRATED EFFORT, AS THREATENED MANY TIMES, TO DRIVE MY FRIENDS AWAY.  IRONICALLY AND THIS IS ONLY MY OPINION I THINK EVERYTIME SOMEONE BECOMES ANGRY FOR SOME REASON  THAT IS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS CAMPAIGN THEY TRY TO PUSH AWAY ANOTHER FRIEND AND I STRONGLY SUSPECT THAT PERSON IS ELLA  AND I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT THAT THROUGHOUT THE CAMPAIGN OF TERRORISM DIRECTED AT ME.  IT IS OBVIOUS TO ME THAT SOME SCENARIO IS SET UP IN ADVANCE TO MAKE SOMETHING LOOK A CERTAIN WAY TO JUSTIFY CERTAIN ACTIONS.  IT IS WELL KNOWN THAT WE HAVE BEEN BITTER ENEMIES FOR 30 YEARS NOW.  A CAMPAIGN OF TERRORISM REGARDLESS OF WHAT IS THOUGHT OR POSSIBLY EVEN SHOWN TO OTHERS.  IF SO YOU CAN BET WHAT REALLY GOES ON IS NOT WHAT IS TOLD OR SHARED WITH OTHERS.  THIS BS HAS GONE ON FOR NEARLY 7 YEARS THAT I AM AWARE OF AND STARTED LONG BEFORE THAT, UNKNOWN TO ME, IN LESS INTENSE WAYS.  DENNIS FELCHER AND CYNTHIA FELCHER HAVE STEADFASTLY MAINTAINED THAT THEY KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ANY OF THIS AND HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE AT ALL ABOUT ANY OF THIS BS DIRECTED AT ME REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOMEONE CHOOSES TO CALL IT.  IF ANYONE READING THIS DOES IN FACT KNOW THAT DENNIS FELCHER AND/OR CYNTHIA FELCHER DO HAVE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE OF THIS CAMPAIGN DIRECTED AT ME WHAT DOES THAT TELL YOU?  IT TELLS ME THAT ANYONE WHO WOULD DO THAT WERE NOT HONEST FROM THE START AND EITHER HAVE SOMETHING TO HIDE OR CONCERNS ABOUT THE POTENTIAL RAMIFICATIONS FROM WHAT IS BEING DONE.  DOES ANYONE THINK THAT ANYONE BEHIND THIS CAMPAIGN DIRECTED AT ME ACTUALY HAS GOOD INTENTIONS AFTER 7 YEARS DAY AND NIGHT IN BACK TO BACK SEGMENTS?  WHAT KIND OF A MORON WOULD JUST LET SOMEONE COME IN AND DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?  THE KIND THAT WILL BE THERE READY TO SAY THEY HAD NO IDEA TO TRY TO ESCAPE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR CRIMES.  AGAIN WHAT KIND OF AN IDIOT ALLOWS THIS TO GO ON FOR 7 YEARS  DENYING TO ME THAT ANYTHING AT ALL IS GOING ON?  ISN’T THAT IN FACT GASLIGHTING ITSELF RIGHT THERE. WHO OWNS ANY GROUP THAT IS PAID OR HAS TIES DIRECTLY OR INDIRECTLY IN SOME WAY TO ANY CAMPAIGN OR EFFORT DIRECTED AT ME?  I GET THE FEELING THESE PIECES OF GARBAGE ARE TRYING TO SET ME UP, SPY, EDIT, MANIPULATE, PAY OTHERS TO SAY AND DO CERTAIN THINGS AT CERTAIN TIMES, AT TIMES IN AN ORCHESTRATED EFFORT TO PORTRAY ME AS SOMEONE WHO HAS SOME SORT OF MENTAL IMPAIRMENT.  I MIGHT BE PISSED OFF BUT NOT CRAZY... YET.  I CAN THINK OF ONLY ONE REASON FOR THIS AND IT COMES DOWN TO MONEY OR THE CONTROL OF IT.  IT COULD BE RELATING TO ANYTHING IRREVOKABLE WHICH IS UNKNOWN TO ME IF ANY SUCH ASSET OF ANY KIND EXISTS.  IT COULD BE RELATING TO THE DECISION MAKING AND/OR CONTROL OF AN ESTATE, OF ANY ASSETS IN TRUST, ETC.  I AM AWARE OF NO TRUSTS IN WHICH I AM ENTITLED TO ANYTHING AT ALL, TO WHICH I HAVE EVER BEEN A BENEFICIARY, I HAVE NEVER RECEIVED A DIME FROM ANY TRUST... PERIOD.  THE ONLY ASSETS OR MONIES RECEIVED BY ME WAS ABOUT $75,000. A LITTLE OVER 30 YEARS AGO FROM MY GREAT UNCLE AL BERMAN IN NORTH MIAMI BEACH AND APPROXIMATELY $6000. DOLLARS ALREADY DEPOSITED INTO A PASSBOOK SAVINGS ACCOUNT AFTER MY GRANDMOTHER ADELE KAUFMAN FELCHER JACKOWITZ IN NY PASSED AWAY ABOUT 39 YEARS AGO.  THERE WERE NO ADDITIONAL BEQUESTS OF ANY KIND, NO PROPERTY, NO SHARES IN ANY TRUSTS, NOTHING AT ALL.  AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAS GONE ON OVER THE PAST 7 YEARS IT WOUD NOT SURPRISE ME IF INHERITANCES, ASSETS WERE HIDDEN SOMEHOW FROM ME ALL THESE YEARS.  IN RETROSPECT I THINK THAT IT IS HIGHLY UNLIKELY THAT THERE WERE NOT INHERITANCES OR SHARES OF SOME SORT OF TRUST (ONE OR MORE) RELATING TO MY GRANDMOTHER ADELE JACKOWITZ OR MY GREAT GRANDPARENTS MAX AND FRIEDA KAUFMAN WHO RESIDED IN NY AND MIAMI BEACH AND WHO ARE OR WERE WELL KNOWN TO PERSONS AT HADDASSAH.

[datainternetmarketing]

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These are some tips to help you pick the most reliable airport limousine service:

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It is essential to choose the best Miami executive car service and it is worth spending some time looking at other providers. You want to choose a company that offers high-quality services. Its reputation should be an indication of its quality. Prior to deciding on the best company, call several times to get pricing information from various companies.

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This is perhaps the most important point to remember. It is best to book the limousine service prior to when you know the dates of your travel. You can communicate any changes to your plans.

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Always Double-Check:

The last thing anyone wants is for a misunderstanding to disrupt their travel plans particularly after days or months of preparation. To confirm your reservation, contact the limousine service provider you've chosen.

Budget:

Particularly business travelers need to be aware of their expenditures. It is important to consider your travel budget when you choose a quality service Miami limo. You will be charged a flat cost by the rental company throughout your stay. This allows you to pick a rental that fits your budget.

Let's wrap up:

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If the driver you must travel long distances is an experienced driver that will benefit you a huge lot. A person should be aware of all tourist destinations along with their importance, great malls, special food, adequate lodging while on an extended trip is a matter of fantastic luck. It's a memorable trip with vivid memories you'll cherish throughout the rest of your life. In the simplest sense, you now have a better understanding of the best way to choose the best Airport limousine service.

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[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours in Miami // h.s. - Part 2

Read Part 1

“Did you really just ask the front desk for a condom?” you asked.

“Intimacy kit,” he corrected you, still pink. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Comes with all sorts of things.”

“Ordered a few of them before?”

He looked at you, then, and stammered. “I just thought-- we don’t have to-- but I thought if we--”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

8:35am.

You’d fallen asleep just like that -- tangled up, skins stuck together with sweat. Two hours later, you had to peel yourselves apart with whispery snickers and pounding heads. It would’ve been gross -- it was gross, to be honest -- except it was him. You smelled like him, he smelled like you, and it poured satisfaction into a well of need for this specifically that you hadn’t known existed until it was full. 

“Stay with me.” Deep, rumbled, and just a little slurred, the words made you smile, and you curled up, eyes closed, when he dragged his warm hands and mouth along your back, shoulder, arm, chest, and stomach. One of his legs was wedged between yours, and he was leaving spongy, scratchy kisses up and down the back of your neck that made you scrunch up. “C’mon, darling,” he sighed hotly against your skin, slipping his arm firmly around your midriff to squeeze you back into his chest. “Stay w’me,” he mumbled with honeyed persuasion that needlessly gilded the spider web of his you’d found yourself in. 

“I have work, you know,” you drawled without any real conviction. Hang work -- hang it all. It was partially because of your work that you’d missed every attempt of his to connect like this over the past few days. You weren’t set to fly out that day, not just yet, but he was, and then he’d be gone and you didn’t know when you’d see him next. You’d been gifted with twelve whole hours, and almost three of them were already gone. 

“Get sick,” he said, the demand muffled by your neck, and you laughed, turning into your pillow. 

Were you really going to leave him there, in your bed, knowing he wouldn’t be there when you got back and that the hours you did have were wasted? 

You’d gone to dinner last night, and something hadn’t sat well with you. That was the excuse you used when you made your calls, trying to sound as hoarse as possible, and when the last one was done, he rolled on top of you and you laughed and tried not to focus on how easy it was for him to settle his hips between your thighs as he peppered kisses up and down your jaw and neck, all but gloating in his gratitude. 

He ordered breakfast at 8:50am and answered the door in your robe at 9:20am, giving a tip and a smile while you burrowed under the blanket and searched for the television remote somewhere in the sheets. 

It was a lazy affair, with both of you reclined against the headboard, captive audiences of the bad local news station you’d turned on to catch up with the day. Every now and then, he’d chuckle or snort or offer his commentary with a sort of bemused delight similar to a wizard discovering a toaster for the first time. “Strange, innit?” 

“What is?” you murmured, breaking off a piece of blueberry crumb muffin. 

“This!” He waved his fork and the strawberry speared on the end of it at the talking alligator on screen. “Bizarre.” He pulled the fruit off the fork with his teeth and chewed, shaking his head. 

“This is not the strangest thing you’ve ever seen.” You brought a piece of your muffin to his mouth and he opened it without breaking focus. 

“Didn’t say that, but it doesn’t mean it’s not weird.”

“Weirder than LA? New York? Texas? London? Tokyo?”

“What’s your point?” 

You snickered and took his fork from him to steal a grape from the bowl. 

“What is this?” He all but wheezed, hand on his belly over the butterfly’s wings as he stared at the screen, eyes crinkled with incredulity. 

“Open,” you said, and he did as you asked, tongue darting forward to meet your fingers. “Harry, you licked me!” you cried when you felt the wet slide over the side of your finger. 

His jaw stopped midchew, focus broken, and heat burst through you when his puckered mouth twitched and then flattened with suppressed laughter. 

“I--”

He swallowed and the bed shook with his silent chuckles. “Didn’t think about that one before y’said it, did you?” 

You made a noise in your throat and rolled away from him as he laughed behind you. “Go away,” you said into the mattress. He was still laughing when you heard the clink of dishes being set aside and when he slid up behind you to get close. 

“Have to wait a few hours for that,” he mumbled, kissing the back of your shoulder. “Couple more hours at least. Wouldn’t throw me out in the cold, would you?”

“It’s Miami,” you said, voice muffled. “You’ll be fine.” 

He turned you on to your back and slunk his way under your arm and you held your breath when he came all but nose to nose with you. You could see everything, good and less good -- every pore, every hair, every slight scar, every mole, every beginning of a pimple, all of it. “Not gonna throw me out, are you?” he repeated, huskier and warmer in a delicious way you didn’t think you were supposed to know could be this good. 

“No,” you whispered. 

He hummed, mouth curved in triumph, and you could see his mind working very fast behind his clear, green eyes. Where you’d been howling your outrage seconds ago, you were pretty sure you were both painfully aware of how close you were right then. Wordlessly, he nuzzled the warm point of his nose against yours and your eyes closed as your breath hitched. Your lips parted just as his tongue touched you lower one, and you sighed, hands slipping up his warm, strong back when the kiss deepened. He tasted sweet -- a little like the strawberry, and a little more like the blueberry and sugar from the muffin. He lowered onto his elbows and you absorbed his weight and warmth without complaint and opened your mouth wider. His groan made you shiver and when you broke, you were both panting. Gulping, he licked his lips. 

“M’gonna make a call,” he said. “Downstairs, t’get us some….” He trailed off. “Where’s the….” He grabbed the phone off the bedside table and dropped off to the side of you, jamming his thumb into a button before lifting it to his ear, and you kissed his chest and shoulder, nuzzling the warm skin. 

“Hi, yes,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I’m calling for-- I’m wondering if there’s an intimacy kit on hand?” 

You looked up at him but he kept his eyes on the ceiling, though his cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavily. 

“Right, yes, thank you, if we could-- have that sent up, that would be… but bill it to room 2201… thank you.” He hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed.

“Did you really just ask the front desk for a condom?” you asked.

“Intimacy kit,” he corrected you, still pink. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Comes with all sorts of things.” 

“Ordered a few of them before?” 

He looked at you, then, and stammered. “I just thought-- we don’t have to-- but I thought if we--”

You kissed him, then, cutting him off, and his hands slid over your bare back as you clambered onto his lap over the sheet. Belatedly, his hands fell into the small of your back, and you were very aware of where you’d be if there was no sheet between you then. “I like this,” you confessed. Maybe you shouldn’t have, maybe it was too much to feel or vocalize, but you did, as quietly as possible so he could miss it if he wanted to. 

“Yeah,” he rasped, hand slipping down to the curve of your ass. He swallowed and you kissed his throat, inhaling the smell of his shower and the sex he’d almost had since. He was warm, and where hair didn’t tickle your mouth, he was also shockingly soft. You had no reason to think he wouldn’t be, you’d just… never thought about it, you guessed. You’d thought mostly about how his muscles would feel -- his arms, his chest, his stomach, all of which were moving heavily as he gulped and breathed deeply. It must’ve been taking his every effort to stay perfectly still underneath you. 

You tapped one of his nipples lightly with your index finger before circling it in a featherlight stroke. He huffed a laugh and you glanced up at him, smiling mischievously as his own lips quirked. Without looking at him, you kissed his nipple pertly and he tensed his stomach with a muted, “Oh, fuck.” Giggling in a whisper, you followed the kiss with a playful bite, and his hand slid down to your bare ass. 

“I’ll be good,” you said, moving to kiss down his chest and down his stomach, each one slow and lingering, tongue touching his skin. “I’ll be good,” you promised again over his navel, chin once again on a thin line of dark, soft hair, and you pressed kisses to the leaves of the ferns fanning over his hips. Under the sheet, you could see -- feel -- his cock hardening again, and above you, he struggled to keep his eyes open and on you, with his hands curling into fists alternately at his sides and on his head. “Is this ok?” you whispered.

Harry nodded with a strangled sound in his throat. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flared and lips smashed together, but he kept his eyes on you as best he could as you eased the sheet down with shaking fingers. For a moment, your mind went blank, and your lip twitched with an almost laugh when you realized. No dick was that good that it should rob anyone of coherent thought, but his was, apparently, and all yours had gone out the window -- laughable in and of itself. 

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, pressing your forehead to his hip. “I just had a moment.”

“Think that’s a first,” he admitted in a strained drawl above you, but he was chuckling, too. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “You’re great, you’re--”

“Y’not helpin’, y’know,” he said, laughing more regularly. “Gonna make a man self-conscious.”

“No.” You kissed his abdomen. “No, I’m sorry, I’m fine now, I just… forgot for a minute.”

“Forgot what?”

Everything was too much to admit to, and instead you wrapped your hand around his cock and he groaned quietly, shifting. Hard, but getting harder still, you pumped with a touch that was much more confident than you felt. Every throb pulsed into your palm, and above you, his throat bobbed as he cleared it, jaw clenching and releasing as he shifted his legs. He was the perfect grip -- big enough to fill your whole hand, but not so much that you felt ineffectual. He was smooth, and he looked so--

His groan when you sucked his head gently echoed through the room, and you felt him twitch on your tongue as you ran it around and around his head. Slowly, your eyes rolled up and closed. He felt good even in your mouth -- smooth and silky -- and he tasted like…. You lowered down, thumb touching your lower lip as a guide down his shaft, and you moaned softly, bobbing your head slowly. 

“That’s nice,” he said thickly. You heard his breath rattle in his chest and you cracked your eyes open. His own were in barely open slits, and his lips were parted, left arm thrown over his head, stretching his tattoos out ever so slightly as his muscles flexed every time he opened and closed his hand in a fist. “Shit, that’s so nice,” he intoned in disbelief, smiling with a breathless little laugh. “So soft… bein’ careful w’me, aren’t you?” 

You blinked and pushed him into your cheek with your tongue, sucking a little more, and he groaned loudly, eyes closing completely for a moment. “Jesus, that’s it,” he praised, and a knot tightened in your stomach. You ran your tongue up and down in short sweeps along the vein you could feel and his whole face crumpled as his stomach rose and fell. He dropped his hand and linked it with his other one over his chest in a basketweave, and his knuckles went white as he took slow, deep breaths. 

The rush from looking at him so powerless and vulnerable and open and trusting and absolutely in awe of every little thing you did? Intoxicating. You were shaking from it and you could feel how wet you were between your thighs -- you were dripping, like he hadn’t just licked up every bit of you he could as if his own life had depended on it. 

For a moment, with your eyes on him, you allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to just pull your mouth off him and straddle him to sink down on him. You let yourself think of the feeling -- the full stretch, judging by the way your jaw was just about popping -- and the look on his face. You let yourself revel in the groans he’d make as his face crumpled, and how his chest would heave, and what his skin would look like with the tracks of his fingers over it as you struggled to find your proverbial footing. You’d both be sweating, and grabbing the other, and the thought of his teeth finding your sensitive skin made your hair stand on end and you whimpered. 

“Like it?” he whispered. “S’it good?”

You nodded, and pulled off him with a wet gasp before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock, from base to tip and back again. 

“That’s good,” he said. “Get all over, s’ok… shit.” His throat bobbed and he unclasped his fingers to grip the bedsheets. “Get all over me, get everywhere, it’s ok, it’s f-fine--” He made an almost pained noise and lifted his hand, and brushed it over the back of your head before dropping it to the bed as he squirmed. “Get my balls,” he mumbled, head rolling against the headboard. “Oh, fuck, please….” 

His breath stuttered and he gulped, eyes opening wide and unfocused on the ceiling. Cock wet from your tongue, you pumped your hand up and down while sucking one ball and then the other into your mouth, ears prickling from the soft, pathetic noises he was making. “Holy shit, s’incredible!” he gasped. “Shit, I’m….” Harry trailed off, choking on his words, and his hand came to rest on the back of your head when you wrapped your mouth around the tip of his cock again. You suckled, with alternating pressure, and bobbed up and down, eyes closed and head swimming from his guttural grunts. 

“M’gonna cum,” he said, his mumble punctuated with a wordless shout when you twisted your hand around his wet cock and squeezed. He throbbed against your palm and you heard him take a sharp breath as his fingers tightened on the back of your head, but without pressure to push you down. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, heaving by then. “Don’t stop, m’gonna cum so… gonna cum so hard, I’m--”

You whimpered around him and your other hand pressed against his stomach. He clapped his free hand over it and held it there, wheezing, and you opened your eyes briefly, catching a glimpse of his face contorted in the most erotic agony -- cheeks and chest pink and sweaty, hair mussed, teeth bared with his shout, and the vein in his neck popping -- before you tasted the first salty, tangy string. You stilled, tightening your lips, absorbing every groan as his thighs tensed and released under you in his effort to not squirm and buck you off. He let go of your head to clutch your hand against his stomach with both of his, and your palm slipped against his slick skin. With some effort, you gulped, mouth still holding him, before you relaxed and pulled off him. You ran your tongue over his head and released him with a soft pop before sitting up slightly, neck and jaw both aching and throat just a little inexplicably sore. 

He, beyond a shadow of a doubt, looked spent. His eyes were closed and there was a slump to his shoulders, and his chest rose quickly with each shallow breath he took, and he still hadn’t let go of your hand. “Think….” He cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Think y’really did summat to me,” he rasped. When he looked at you at last, he was dazed, and a dumbfounded smile pulled at the corners of his mouth before his eyes slid shut again. “Fuck,” he sighed. 

“Are you going to nap now?” you asked, voice thick and husky. He laughed. 

“Don’t,” he said. You crawled up his body, unsteady knees guiding you on either side of him. “Don’t tease me, m’only… I’m trying my best, aren’t I?” 

You grinned, and you’d just gotten to perch on his thighs when a knock at the door startled you both. Your head whipped around just after his eyes flew open and he gripped your hand tighter. 

“That’ll be the kit,” he said, breathing heavily. 

“Oh.” You’d almost forgotten he’d called down for it. “Right. I can….” You pulled your hand free from his. “I can get it.” 

“If you--”

“I can,” you repeated, nearly toppling over as you swung your leg off him. “Stay.” You flung the sheet haphazardly over his waist and he chuckled as you stood and pulled your robe on, glancing at the clock on the bedside table as you did. 

11:37am.

[ecoamerica]

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[incarnateirony]

Hi! I’m still not really over the last episode (and that happy montage in the end i-) and I’m feel confused about what’s part of the episode was fake. I mean the end totally is. But all Chuck scene was superweird too. And sometimes i think that it should be Cas instead of Lucifer and Jack felt him. I mean... confused! How do you feel about that?

Okay so here’s the thing -- this is a multifaceted episode--

BuckLeming, while often herded efficiently by Dabb, can muddy up the textual waters, leave gaps, and things unexplained.

However, that doesn’t account for Showalter’s choices in direction. Dutch shots out the ASS which are typically used to evoke that something is "wrong." Lots of panoramas, tracking shots, zooms and blurs in ways that simply are-not-standard for SPN. Extreme aerial shots.

One might even think “maybe it’s Chuck looking in on them!” but then you realize the same overhead view zoomed out on *Chuck* even and panned out to the horizon again.

One of the early mega-zooms literally zoomed out to The World, even. I’m just gonna gesture people to my tag on that and let them think on that, much less the empty world orbiting on the news or whatever the hell else.

There were *several* Cas-baits, yes. Yes, that was intentional from our actual authors. 

But when it comes down to “fake episode”, here’s where we were at.

15.17-19 run immediately concurrently. At the end of 17, Chuck says this was his ending.

Now, the Winchesters largely derailed that ending, so Chuck was writing new material.

But Chuck is also seeking death. 

He wrote a suicide note in 11. He wrote the story that would end in him and Amara being eradicated. And whatever influence he was exerting forcefully with Michael and Lucifer to bop the story around was all in the interest of seeing his book. One might think “to keep the Winchesters from killing him”, but he was desperate to see what his ending WAS, to know it and experience it and scream after them.

The dour taking of “no one cares” right after “I care(d)” about humanity is its own highlight going on.  But wait, there’s MORE.

When Dabb dropped his pre-episode thing, we started talking before the episode.

So I mean, I think what we were *mostly* witnessing is the pen being ripped away.

But this is that emptiness that lingers even with Chuck generally resolved. They’re still kinda on the pages. The book is presented as shut, and the next steps are not taken. Development stops, if not drops.

This entire thing is so meta my damn head hurts.

Summarily: Is it just like, some weird AU that’s gonna go away? Not so much. Is it an incomplete portion of the story told from a skew? Absolutely. And is there still someone watching over them? T’would seem so. The whole World, even. Beyond Chuck. 

Now the point at which we start blocking off issues of “eugenie writes like she’s 3″ is where we ask about things like “god power” or whatever else being thrown in the mix along with eugenie’s ki ball special effects that are literally always unique to her episodes, even if other people have to add the SFX.

So while it was a good bit of masterful work to do it via buckleming for this style of bump, it still inevitably has its flaws because... buckleming. But... Showalter was there. And one thing to note is almost every single scene entrance had some sort of major pan or zoom effect. That’s not typical for him.

The entire thing is designed to evoke, directorially: 

One style: crooked shots, unlevel, unbalanced, uneasy feeling.

Second style: Over-under; some force is watching them on high, while others have a sort of brechtian absurdity, which seats it like a play on an elevated stage.

We are the audience, looking up at figures half the episode; but a second audience is looking in from “on high” and out over the world. As if perhaps even from the heavens. 

Third style: CSI Miami, basically? Parts of this episode were sectioned off to be like a procedural crime drama in its cinematography and flashbacks. Which is ironic, because Dean loathes procedural dramas, but at the same time some of this fandom demands a procedural monster show instead of a family drama show. 

Sam and Dean barely have any lines in the episode *until* we hit Crime Drama Time. Then suddenly, they reveal all of their case work. Despite Dean’s hatred of crime dramas, this is honestly when I feel like the brothers kicked in their own pen. 

Let’s play a game-- the winchesters are aware they can write their own story. So they start telling the story they think people want to hear, or maybe just fill in the gaps from when Chuck gets dropped on his ass. Maybe Dean’s the one writing about how many times god punched them in the face whereas Sam is breaking down the crime scene investigation front. Another, where it feels like we’re loosely circling the war table as others lightly wander too.

But everything before that is the first and second style, and even after that, the overview-angle remains. The uneasiness is gone but there is an emptiness otherwise. But we are no longer spectators from beneath the stage, but staring into them.

I still very much expect everyone to “die” one more time and several specifics to choose to walk back into life at the end of it.

Is it a *complete* false narrative? No. We’re not just gonna turn around and be like “oh that whole ep didn’t happen.” But the writer lost his pen and got jacked at one point, while we also observed the stage from a series of angles as different audiences.

Riddle me this: Why show the World? “Because it’s empty and just them!” okay but there’s a lot of ways to show that which actually gets that point a whole lot better across than “here, here’s a planet that still looks lit up”--yes I know electricity is still running until stuff runs out but essentially speaking, the end of the episode shows us the kind of dramatic shots that could be used for that.

CASey just poofed in the World in the TV, seems legit.

Let’s see these overhead angles again, knowing it isn’t just Chuck.

This sort of overview is known for causing a “dollhouse effect” that derealizes the episode and makes them seem, well, like toys. Which is interesting. Because Chuck isn’t the only one watching them on high.

Cool, this is fine.

Either way, the entire episode is DESIGNED to cause some major uncanny valley. There’s a lot of parts that simply *haven’t been told or filled in.*  It’s almost like evasive maneuvering, half the content just never made it to print, and what did wasn’t in its best draft. There may be battling authors, or a transition of authorship. But the thing is: this is not the complete story.

There is an entire missing section about Sam and Dean even finding out that Jack is a power siphon which they hadn’t witnessed yet much less arranged an entire plan.

Even Chuck’s episodes are generally told from the general POVs of the Winchesters, but this was absolutely not. 

Matthew 28: 18: And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Put a pin in that one.

Unless CHUCK IS WRITING HIS OWN FAKE DRAMATIC END, the overhead view, however, IS NOT CHUCK PERSPECTIVE.

-- Regardless, the metaness of “fish in a toilet bowl BRL plot” stacked into this makes it very difficult to accurately decipher the lines, especially with only one watch so far--just skimming back through right now to grab a few things I remember.

Some parts are plot salad buckleming.

Some parts are us as forced spectators of a stage play.

some parts are shifting authorship

Some parts are the heavens looking out over the earth it loves.

------

It almost feels as if, within enclosed spaces, unsteadiness and stageplay, we have Chuck’s POV.

But by the end it ceases to have any relevance, as he is no longer the author, and instead, we have the Presence of Being overseeing them, letting the Winchesters argue for their own proverbial pen in their own storytellings between here and there.

ALTERNATE PROPOSAL:

 it is all one point of view. All of it. Pretend you’re someone’s eyes on a situation, you just happen to be in the sky half the time, and the uncanny valley is pulling forward the concept of being a presence that simply isn’t *there.*  For example we're looking extremely closely at passed out dean but the camera turns and raises to level with Sam before Dean gets up. Our viewership lens is rising to meet Sam.

The camera stays in motion to fill a role or slot of a viewer. At first it’s haunting and ominous, but at other times, it’s simply part of the room, when it isn’t hovering from on high. Rather than speaking of empty space, we are viewing The World through that empty space, as if it were a Being.

Just a few more eye catching shots.

But whoever or whatever frames the end, even without Chuck--like the story is still turning on the pages, roughly. 

The montage at the end feels like the Swan Song one, more or less, but there’s no narrator, no chuck.

The writer, the writer we know at least, is Absent.

Men are writing their own Stories.

But they aren’t alone.

I know how you see yourself. Angry and dark like your father. You think that’s what you are. But you are the most loving man in the whole world. That is who you are.

Someone does care. Even if right now, Sam and Dean don’t feel like anyone does.

...Because of you. I cared. For you, for Sam, for Jack, for the Whole World.

I cared.

“That’s not who I am.”

I am.

I speak therefore I am.

[russadler]

Work Hard, Play Harder - Prologue

Russell Adler x Female OC

The mission sounds simple enough, but the devil was definitely in the details.

A/N: This is something completely new and separate from ‘A Little Death’ and NOT a Russell Adler x Bell. After coming to terms with the issues with that pairing, it was difficult to continue that fic even though I loved it as much as I did. It was devastating to do so, but I’m hoping to create something completely new and fun. I guess this is sort of similar to ‘A Little Death’ in a way but completely different at the same time. This is just the prologue, setting the scene for the fic, but let me know what you guys think <3

June 7, 1982

Langley, Virginia

She’s not entirely sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. 

Her day starts out simple enough. Write memos, respond to emails, read and scribble in the growing stack of files on her desk. Then her department lead tells her Jason Hudson needs to see her and from then on things get very interesting, very fast. 

The brunette makes her way to the briefing room with haste, lithe legs carrying her at the fastest pace considered appropriate in Langley’s corridors. Everyone knew Jason Hudson to be a notorious hardass, but he was a decorated one. A long list of achievements had ensured he sat at the echelon of the clandestine operations unit. 

Now he wanted her. Getting called on by Mr. Shades himself was the lifelong dream of the many that worked at Langley, but now that it’s happening the woman can’t deny the sense of apprehension at the prospect. She had worked minor roles under the direction of other handlers in a few of the smaller ops he’s overseen over the years, but felt she had done nothing then to warrant his attention whatsoever. 

There’s little time to ponder, and before long the briefing room door she’d been directed to enters her field of vision. Shoulders squared and breathing deeply through her nose, knuckles meet the worn wood in delicate but firm raps. A deep voice beckons her forth, and she enters. 

Hudson stands at the far end of the table, one hand in his pocket and the other sifting through a stack of papers currently occupying the surface in front of him. 

“Agent Fletcher.” He greets flatly, not even sparing her a glance as he focuses his gaze on the aforementioned sheets of paper.

“Sir.” She returns, thankful that she’s managed to keep the nervous tremble from her voice and replace it with something pleasant and airy instead. Taking a seat, her delicate hands flatten her pressed slacks as she moves. Her selected chair is close, but maintains a respectable enough distance from her superior.  

“Are you familiar with the name Anthony Lipovetsky, agent?” Hudson cuts to the chase, starting as soon as she’s settled. His cold stare shifts to acknowledge her presence, and a chill comes over her as she stares into those signature reflective shades.

They both knew the answer to his question. Aria Fletcher worked mainly in the drug and contraband trafficking sector of the CIA. 

Of course she knew who he was. 

Anthony Lipovetsky had steadily become a pain in the DEA’s ass recently, according to what she had been hearing. Though he wasn’t anyone particularly prolific that warranted the CIA’s attention like some others had. Out of the many individuals Hudson could have pulled her here to ask about, the Russian - American was the least expected.

“Drug trafficker making some big moves along the east coast, but he’s not the biggest fish in the pond.” Aria answers, sounding matter of fact as she stares back at the other. It’s more of a question of a statement. Why him? 

“You’re right. He isn’t, but it’s recently come to our attention that he’s been dabbling into arms smuggling.” Hudson counters, but it still isn’t the answer she’s looking for. 

“Unsurprising. He’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last.” The younger states, but there’s more to this and she knows it. She takes a gamble and makes an educated guess. “Would I be correct in guessing we’re here right now because of his choice in clientele?” 

The female agent can only hope Hudson doesn’t think she’s trying to be a smartass, but all she can do is speculate. It’s the only reasonable assumption that comes to mind seeing as the The CIA doesn’t like it very much when people sell guns to the bad guys, and they especially don’t like it if they’re the type of bad guys who like terrorism. 

“Precisely.” Hudson answers, and the agent has to fight the urge to smile. Right on the ball.

“We have solid intel that he’s been in contact with a soviet agent named Perseus.” The elder continues even seriously, voice grim as he makes the acknowledgment.

Oh. Oh. 

The name Perseus wasn’t one she was familiar with, but the words Soviet Agent had stood out. This was bigger than the domestic drug trade, this was the Soviet Union making way into their backyard. 

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

“So, what’s the plan?” The young woman queries, a touch hesitant at what role she has to play in something that now seems entirely out of her league. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, but a knock at the door interrupts. Her head snaps towards the door as Hudson grants entrance, and in walks Russell Adler. 

Langley legend, ‘America’s Monster’ The man’s in a different league even when compared to a heavyweight like Hudson. He’s pretty much a myth. She’s heard the stories about him, both personal and professional. His portfolio of work is way above her pay grade, and his presence immediately makes the entire thing immensely more interesting. 

She rode an elevator with him once, almost a year back. The encounter was barely a minute long, but she never forgot how devastatingly attractive the man was, with looks that easily could have landed him in Hollywood. Not to mention the way the man carried himself, assertive and with an undeniable dominance. 

Adler doesn’t introduce himself, and doesn’t even spare her a glance nor a word as he takes the seat adjacent to Hudson. His shaded eyes are focused straight ahead as he pulls a cigarette from the pack he seemingly carried in, perching the stick between his lips and igniting it with a zippo lighter that had appeared from God knows where. 

Aria hadn’t realized she had been staring until Hudson tosses something at her from his place at the table, the sound jolting her back to attention. A manila folder glides quietly across the stained wood to land neatly in front of her, only two words on the front.

Operation Ocelot. 

“Let’s get started.” Hudson announces. She opens the file, and things begin to unravel. 

——————————————————————

As it turns out, Operation Ocelot consists of a covert insertion of two agents into Anthony Lipovetsky’s Miami home. That part sounds simple enough, but the devil is definitely in the details.

For the time being, it was prudent Lipovetsky’s connection to Perseus remained intact. They needed a paper trail to follow, and one they could follow without arousing Lipovetsky’s suspicion. There was no real point in spying on someone if they knew they were being spied on.

“The target is well guarded, the man has a price on his head and he’s well aware. Armed security teams around the clock, cameras around the house, the whole package.” Hudson states, slides on the projector screen behind him changing to show a floorplan of the house. 

“Is this where I come in?” Aria questions, it’s easy to assume that’s the only reason why she’s here. 

It seems they’ve selected her to be the honeypot, an unfortunate consequence of being at the very least a mildly attractive woman in the CIA. Sexuality had proven to be man’s greatest weakness time and time again, and it become just a part of the job. She knew if it was something she didn’t want to do, she could easily say no. But then again, she had killed many people in her time as an agent, and one had quickly learned how to detach emotions from entire aspects of life as necessary. 

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but she swears she sees Hudson and Adler share a look before the former answers her. “It’s where you and Adler come in.” 

Adler in the meanwhile, hasn’t spoken throughout the entire thing. He hadn’t even looked at her yet, his sightline having been maintained firmly on the projector screen ahead as Hudson led the briefing. The end of his cigarette had burned red in the darkness as he took steady pulls from it throughout, the only sign of life in an otherwise detached and glacial man. 

And now, Russell Adler is looking at her. Dark aviators like twin blackholes that threaten to swallow her whole. 

At this point the young agent is visibly confused, as demonstrated by Hudson moving to clarify the statement. “Through our surveillance program we’ve been able to observe the targets' routines and behaviours, and it has been noted that Lipovetsky has a particular…habit.” 

“He wants a threesome?” Aria blurts, now fiddling with the gold chain on her neck. 

This whole thing just got really fucking weird. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, likely looking for a way to word the whole thing professionally, but to her utter surprise Adler is the one who decides to cut to the chase. 

“He likes taking home married couples.” He states bluntly, nonchalant as he focuses on crushing the charred stub of his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. 

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Adler speak, his voice low and warm. Though it’s not the sort of warmth one would typically associate with kindness, but rather it brings to mind the heat of a fire and danger. There’s a roughness there too, likely from his smoking, but oh how well does it suit him.

“Oh. Well, that’s…interesting.” Aria huffs with a laugh, feeling honestly a bit relieved. There were definitely weirder things in the world that people were into that she feared. Instead, her body tingles with interest. Married couple. 

“Why me then? This isn’t necessarily my normal line of work.” The woman questions. They could have chosen anyone, but they had chosen her. Hundreds of beautiful women worked here everyday but they somehow settled on her? 

“You both make an…attractive pair. You fit the bill in terms of the target’s preferences, as well the vacation demographic in the city.” Hudson says, arms crossed at his chest. “Apart from that, you’ve so far had an impressive field career, your performance is consistent and high quality.” 

The female agent can’t help the pride that burns in her chest at the praise from such a distinguished and highly respected man like Jason Hudson. Everything suddenly felt like a dream. 

“There’s a lot to lose here, we need more than a pretty face. You’ve got what we need.” Hudson emphasizes, the importance of this mission heavily ingrained to the back of her mind. 

“So…I’m going to play Adler’s pretty little trophy wife and then we’re going to collectively seduce our way into his house?” Aria wonders aloud, Adler and Hudson not moving to interrupt and permitting her speculation to continue. “And then what? Are we expected to fuck the information out of him?” 

Hudson sighs, pinching at his brow in exasperation. Adler jumps in once more, saving Hudson from further embarrassment. “We’re gonna slip him a sedative before things get to that. Special cocktail that’ll make him think he just drank a little too much.”

“Oh, thank god.” The youngest utters under her breath, relieved. Things were definitely easier that way.

“Once he’s out, we’ll mess with the camera system, do recon, collect intel, then get the fuck out.” Adler finishes, intense stare levelled right at her once more. She couldn’t help but squirm, he was almost too much to handle just by existing.

And God, she could listen to that voice all day. She was going to listen to it all day in a short matter of time.

She really loved her job sometimes.

“Sounds simple enough.” Aria resigns, casual as she accepted that her life was just really going to be this outlandish for the next little while. 

“You and Adler will set out the day before and go through the motions and leave a paper trail of your own. The target might try and track you both down just to check his bases.” Hudson adds, arms crossed as he switches his gaze back and forth between her and Adler. 

“If we leave evidence that we’re just a normal couple doing normal things, it’ll reassure the target there wasn’t any outside involvement and we weren’t up to no good.” Aria finishes, one arm perched on the armrest of her chair and the other fiddling with her pen as she returns Hudson’s gaze. 

“Precisely.” Hudson agrees, voice carrying the smallest hint of sympathy. 

It’s almost like he feels bad for her. 

Hudson dismisses them soon after, handing them directives on the particulars of their individual roles and aliases. Adler storms ahead of her to the exit, moving out without so much as acknowledging her once again.

He was an asshole, but a ridiculously good looking one. She would learn to play his game soon enough, and oh, she would press his buttons.

Hudson is quick to catch her disgruntled reaction at Adler’s behaviour. “Adler’s not the most personable, but he’s a damn good agent. He’ll have your back.” The elder reassures, perhaps seeking to soothe the burn of the other’s abrasive nature. 

The woman sighs, turning to flash Hudson a tight lipped smile. “I’ll figure him out, I’m not worried.”

She finishes packing away her items and gets ready to leave, eager to get started on the work ahead. Hudson calls her again as she reaches the door, making her pause in her tracks.

“Remember agent, don’t let me down.” 

Nodding with silent determination, she leaves.

[perriewinklenerdie]

Married (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 2,4 k

Summary: Parts of Ines’s wedding told from Ethan’s perspective feat. E&C dancing, staring at each other during the wedding, basically being a married couple and everyone calling them out for it. OH3 Chapter 11 added content.

Warnings: None, it’s fluff town all the way

A/N: I feel scammed by PB. All the golden opportunities - wasted. So I fixed it.

His shoes sank a bit in the sand as he began walking towards the venue. More and more people were beginning to arrive, sounds of conversation and laughter increasing by the minute. He recognized his coworkers with ease and approached them. The first to notice him is Tobias, his eyebrow arching slightly at the sight of him.

“You came alone? Where’s Herondale?” he asked, looking over Ethan’s shoulder to search for the blonde resident.

“She helped me fix my tie, then kicked me out of our room. And refused to let me see the dress.” He explained, shrugging with a helpless laugh. Harper laughed along with him, clapping her hands gently.

“That’s wife behavior. Are you sure you two aren’t married?”

“Dude, if you two eloped, I’m not going to be working out with you anymore.” Bryce chimed in, acting as though he was offended, a serious look overtaking his face.

“Where would you- why would you- “ Ethan started stumbling over his words, realizing only after a moment that everyone was smirking at him teasingly. He huffed, fighting a blush that creeped onto his cheeks anyway. “I see. You all think you’re funny.”

“You make it too easy, Ethan.” Harper giggled, shaking her head.

“And we know we’re funny, Ethan.” His mentor put his hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

“Hilarious, even.” Baz added.

A small sound of an incoming message caused everyone to stop talking. Sienna unlocked her phone, her eyes scanning the screen.

“Claire just texted me a photo of her in a dress.”

Immediately, everyone jumped to her side, long before Ethan could even move his finger. Once he woke up from the daze, he took a step towards the young doctor that he considered his friend. Zaid stopped him in his tracks with a hand pressed to his shoulder.

“She said to not let you see the photo.”

“Why?”

Her voice rang from behind him. “I wanted to see your reaction myself.”

Ethan turned around and, at once, his breath caught in his throat. His gaze dropped to her shoes and dragged up her body slowly. The gentle flow of her skirt, pink silk that he knew for sure would almost spill through his fingers. The bodice, snug against her chest, accentuating her curves and making his male brain run wild. Careful to not linger on her chest too long – he would not get crap from their friends for this – he finally looked at her face. She was grinning smugly with a bit of a nervous spark.

He stepped up to her, resting his hand on the dip of her waist, tracing the floral patterns under his touch. With his other hand, he grasped hers in a gentle manner, raising it to press a warm kiss to her fingers.

“You’re taking my breath away.” he muttered, staring at her intensely.

“Hypoxia is dangerous, maybe I should go.” Claire teased, leaning away a fraction of an inch. He immediately pushed on her back to stop her, their personal spaces merging.

“Not having you by my side is fatal.” He dropped his voice to a low rumble, her grin melting into the soft smile. Their lips met in a slow kiss, no heat to it, just pure emotions.

They remained like that for a prolonged moment, his hands carefully pressing her to his chest. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making their bodies move in a swaying motion.

Jackie burst their bubble. “You, lovebirds, the brides are about to arrive, cut it out.”

Ethan pressed his lips to Claire’s one last time, then leaned away. Their noses brushed against one another as their eyes met. He whispered gently. “I’ll come find you after the ceremony.”

She pecked his cheek sweetly. “Can’t wait.”

--

He wasn’t particularly a fan of weddings. He wasn’t invited to a lot of them, either. If combined with his dislike for big social gatherings, one would come to the conclusion that Ethan Ramsey was miserable right in that moment.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

As Ines and Angie exchange vows and talk about their love for each other, his eyes find Claire. Sitting in her chair across the aisle, she’s holding Sienna’s hand and passing her a tissue. She’s all anyone could ever ask for, and the mere sight of her makes him fall down into the void of memories.

How far he’s come as a person. A cynic that dreaded what a new year would bring along with a new batch of interns. A man that had only two people in his life that he could call friends. A man that went to the bar every night to forget the day behind him, only to go back to his empty apartment. All of that was so long ago that he barely recognized that version of himself anymore. He was so different now.

He smiled more. Laughed, even, and found that he didn’t find stupid jokes Lahela made all the time half as annoying as he once did. He didn’t spend every waking moment at work. Instead, he enjoyed his time off. Still at a bar, but not to drink away his worries. Not alone – not anymore.

Now, he had someone to come home to.

Claire shook her head as she laughed at what Zaid said and Ethan’s heartbeat quickened. They grew together as people too, and along with that, their relationship evolved.

From the night they spent together in the NICU, when her head slowly fell onto his shoulder and he couldn’t find a single cell in his body to tell him to lean away. Because he wanted her to be close. It was the first moment in which he thought that maybe this brilliant woman was meant to be more to him than just an intern – and right after that, he squashed the idea back down.

Every hold of her hand, every silent sign of support, he cherished it all. Unknowingly falling deeper for the woman that would become the center of his universe before he realized what was happening.

Their kiss in Miami would be at the forefront of his mind in his every living second until he kissed her again. Growing stronger with each time his resolve broke and their lips met, softly or with wild abandonment.

The first time he could call her his – the first time he had her to himself. He knew in that moment that he was ruined for everyone else. No one would ever make him feel that way, ever again. He knew it damn well – and yet, he still fought against it.

Absence makes heart grow fonder. He now knew it was true. Months he spent away from her, keeping her at arm’s length, taught him as much. How could he deny those words when the moment he pulled her closer to him outside his apartment and their lips touched, he felt his mind go blank and his heart stop. He vowed to never let her leave again. To never lose her.

And then he almost did.

The thought alone made his muscles spasm, and he was a millisecond away from running to her side, just to feel her warmth and hear her heartbeat. Leaving her side now, even if only for a moment, even to do their job, caused a silent voice to go off in his head. A wave of panic usually followed, staying with him until he saw her again.

Thankfully, nowadays, she was within his reach most of the time. She never asked why he sometimes needed to pull her close and just hold onto her – she knew.

He felt the corners of his lips rise on their own accord. She was radiant in every second of every day. In that moment, she was the most beautiful person there. The idea that it was him that she continuously chose to be with, day after day, only made him smile wider.

This was it for him. He found his one and only, as cliché as that sounded – he knew it for sure. Guess weddings really did make people reflect on love after all.

Ethan was very much aware of how lovestruck he must have been looking in that moment. With his eyes on Claire, he was a picture of a man in love – and he was finally ready to admit that he was. He loved her.

Almost as though she could hear his thoughts, she turned around to look at him. Their eyes met and a brilliant smile bloomed on her face. His lips moved as he mouthed the words, her smile becoming gentler.

“I’m yours.”

She mouthed it right back to him.

--

Music wasn’t as obnoxious as he anticipated it to be. That didn’t, of course, mean that he condoned every dance move he saw the guests do. He decided to not complain, though – it was a day to be happy, he wouldn’t bring anyone down with his opinion on their questionable choices of moves.

Currently, he was seated by the table, nursing his whiskey. Mirani twins, Tobias and Naveen sat beside him, all five men watching their colleagues party with wine glasses in their hands.

“How long, do you think, will it take for one of them to break a glass?” Baz asked, leaning out of his seat to see his friends better. Zaid grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

“Any second now. And my bet is on Varma.”

“Why?” Tobias’s face twisted in confusion as he turned towards him, intrigued. Zaid shrugged.

“Because she can.”

Ethan tuned their conversation out, choosing instead to look at his girlfriend. She danced with Sienna, laughing as they sang along to the song. Her dress moved with her, flowing through the air elegantly. He felt the urge to stand up and walk up to her.

“Ramsey, you do know you can just walk up to her instead of sitting here and pining for her, right?” Tobias snickered, punching Ethan’s shoulder playfully. He scoffed, leaning away with a hint of a burn in his cheeks.

“I’m not pining for her.”

“You are.” All four of his companions replied.

He was so distracted by their words that he failed to notice an approaching form. Her hand landed on his shoulder softly, the tips of her nails scratching the back of his neck. Knowing who it was, he leaned into her touch, breathing out deeply.

“Sorry, gentlemen, but I’m stealing him.” she mused happily, dragging her hand down his arm until her fingers tangled with his. Ethan let her pull her up, looping his arm around her waist.

“Stealing is bad, Herondale.” Tobias shot back, moving his eyebrows suggestively at the couple. Claire opened her mouth to speak, but Ethan beat her to the punch.

“She can’t steal something that’s already hers.” He grinned at them, then turned towards her. Claire’s jaw dropped in surprise at his boldness, her posture softening enough for him to pull her away from the table, smirking. Faintly, he heard Tobias’s words.

“Married. For sure.”

Ethan’s arms wrapped around her, fingers hooked onto her hipbones. She threw her arms around his neck, staring up at him with a soft smile. A slow song began playing and one look at where the DJ was situated told them who was behind this change. Ines grinned at them, giving them thumbs up and a cheeky wink.

“Is it just me, or is everyone trying to tell us something?” Claire giggled, nuzzling her nose against his jaw. He kissed her nose gently.

“So, you noticed it too?”

“Kinda hard not to. Girls said we’re acting like a married couple at least twice today.” she traced the lapel of his jacket, laughing quietly at the recognition in his eyes.

“Guys did it too.” Ethan muttered, tightening his hold on her. She laid her head on his shoulder.

“And how does that make you feel?”

He was silent for a long while. They swayed to the song, tuning out everything else. To her surprise, he didn’t tense up – nothing about his posture spelled out the doubts he once told her he had.

“Not as terrified as it did before.”

Claire leaned back to look at him. Their eyes met, tender understanding in them. Ethan leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss, perfectly soft and not nearly deep enough. She clutched his lapel in her fist, creasing the fabric with how strong her pull was. His fingers dug into her back, skipping past the coarser material of her bodice and gripping the soft silk of her skirt. A voice in the back of his head told him to loosen up the hold or he’ll mark the fabric, but the overwhelming need he felt for her overshadowed everything else and he couldn’t bring himself to let her go.

The song ended and with it, their kiss. Foreheads pressed together, they caught their breath, standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Blissfully unaware of how much attention they gathered with their tender moment.

Ethan opened his eyes and finally allowed his mind to register the music again. Some sort of a fast tune that made people around them go mad. His girlfriend stared at him with an unspoken question, and he got the meaning perfectly well.

With a definite move, he dipped her onto the floor. She giggled, the sound breaking through the loud music to reach his ears. Ethan smirked, throwing her back into his arms. With his lips against her ear, he mused hotly.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Her leg wrapped around his thigh, pushing their bodies closer. His voice broke off and his breath shuddered at the way their bodies clashed and the suggestive smirk she sent his way. His hand fell to her ass, all inhibitions gone.

“Ethan!” she exclaimed, laughing at the carefree smile he gave her. He moved his hand a bit, albeit begrudgingly.

“Can you blame me? You’re irresistible.” He muttered, kissing the shell of her ear. Claire hummed, then twirled out of his hold and back into it, jumping into his arms with her legs wrapped around his hips. Ethan groaned deeply in his throat, making her smirk.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve too.”

Notes

This is a part 2 to the Mile High Club fic. As I said, PB could have made the chapter so good with all the wedding themes that I’d lose my wig. Writers apparently don’t know how to do basic research into fiction themes, but that’s okay (kinda). It just means I have more material to work with.

Round two smut is coming soon. 

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

[llogllady99]

Au revoir

CHARACTERS |  Levi, Erwin, Hange, Mike, Nanaba, Petra, Kuchel

RELATIONSHIPS | Erwin x Levi, Mike x Nanaba, Petra x Hange

GENRE | Reincarnation, Smut, Romance

IV | Alternate Universe- Reincarnation. Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Romance, Smut, Angst and fluff and smut, French Levi, Student Levi, Writer Erwin, Light angst, Alternate Universe - Coffee shops.

Summary | “Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.“

Levi.” 

Erwin and Levi meet again in the modern world.Series

-

Levi will never admit to anyone that he thoroughly enjoyed reading romance novels. Yes, they were a bit too cheesy for his liking and maybe some of the passage were kind of forced, but the way they made his stomach drop and heart flutter was enough to keep him buying one novel after another. His first novel of such kind was: Madame Bovary, a book which he stole when his mother was away at work. At the green age of 12 Levi hid in the house’s library, right behind the couch and began absorbing the words hungrily, gaping and gasping in shock whenever Emma’s affair with Rodolphe or Leon would appear in the book. He didn’t necessarily enjoy the story as it was quite bland compared to the romcoms he and his mother would watch on Sundays, but was instead mesmerised by the rose scented perfume that lingered among the pages, a phenomenon which he didn’t encounter in other books because, as his mother told him later, Madame Bovary had been a vessel for Kuchel to deliver her love letters to the post office back when she was younger.

Coincidently, Levi was now holding the same book, enjoying it with a little more fervour and fascination as he himself, in his twenty-one years of life, had experienced some form or pretence of love at some point with maybe two or three of his lovers. Wetting his finger he turned the page and finished what was left of the chapter he was currently reading. He let the book down and stared out the window of the train he was embarked on in other to return to his childhood home: Marseille, France.

Levi remembered his past life. This life had treated him extremely kindly, almost as if the universe was apologising for the hell it put him through the last one. He was born and raised in the countryside, his childhood being characterised by stealing from vineyards, scraped knees, and dirty faces, a fun and ideal childhood. His mother, although having gone through a divorce when he was small, was now well and alive, indulging herself with a quality lifestyle and relaxing hobbies; his home forever full of jamon, quality wine, fresh sea food, and oil paintings in easels  adjourning his hilltop village house’s balcony crowded with red boungainvillea. He had met Hange and Petra in the same village at the sea on a hot summer’s day, introducing himself brusquely, startling the girls, who lacked even an inch of recognition for him in their eyes. Levi quickly realised that not everyone remembered their past life and as such he should keep quiet. Nonetheless, the three quickly became inseparable, their bond not destroyed but only slightly deterred when him and Hange left for university, leaving Petra back home alone. Levi had left to study architecture at the university of Sorbonne and Hange to England to study Medicine at the Imperial College of London, surprising both herself and her friends when she had only applied at the university on a whim not even half expecting to get accepted, but she was the smartest person he knew and if anyone deserved it then it would undoubtedly be her.

Apart from them, Levi had not encountered anyone else from his past life, and by anyone else he only meant Erwin, his blonde, tall, and handsome commander. It was a disappointment that after so much time he still hadn’t managed to meet him, one which left him with an enormous hole in his stomach that would only get bigger every time he allowed himself to think about his past lover. He eventually lost hope and stopped looking for him all together. He had not told Hange and Petra about him however, instead choosing to keep his existence and unsuccessful search all to himself. After all, it is simply expression that gives reality to things. Never mind the fact that he would sound batshit crazy, but if he would have opened his mouth and openly voice the fact that he had not found him yet, then there would have been chances of not meeting him at all. He was still clinging to a thin thread of hope that Erwin will keep his promise of them reuniting again eventually.

At once, the train pulled in Marseille’s train station with a deafening horn, its locomotive letting out clouds of white vapour that swirled fast up in the azure sky, and announced its passengers that they have reached their destination. Levi stepped on the platform, and dragging his black suitcase behind him, he inhaled the fresh country air as a warm feeling came over him. He had arrived home.

-

On the other side of the globe, free lance writer Erwin Smith was packing his suitcase hurriedly, throwing clothes chaotically in his suitcase. He was terribly late for his flight.

Summer always turned unbearably hot in Miami, the dry heat and the omnipresent smell of sweat managing to deeply irritate Erwin. That had been his initial plan for the summer: change shirt after shirt as he walked the road from his apartment, a small 2 bedroom space that lacked air conditioners and that would turn into a literal oven during the hotter months of the year, and his publisher. Therefore, when Mike and Nanaba invited him to celebrate together their anniversary in Marseille, France, he didn’t hesitate to agree, he actually did with so much desperation that he worried even himself. He had quickly called his publisher making up some shitty excuse to extend his deadline, spattering something about how the sweet mediterranean breeze will to wonders to his inspiration. He lied, and quite horribly so, he had finished the chapter he was due but hadn’t edited it yet, a chore which he assigned himself for when he would return. Quickly closing his suitcase and praying that he didn’t leave everything behind, he ran out the apartment and waved his arm frantically in the direction of a cab that happened to be passing by.

Erwin also happened remembered his past life, something he cursed and treasured at the same time. He treasured the memory of Levi but cursed whenever he would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat screaming as he felt the phantom pain from when he lost him arm, something that had somehow followed him into this life also. Just like Levi, Erwin also learned that not everyone remembered their past life. His first such experience had been when he woke up screaming when he was small due to a very unpleasant memory, one filled with titans, blood and the death of his comrades. His father had come to comfort him but dismissed everything as just a nightmare that sprouted from Erwin’s wild imagination. At the age of 16 he started writing everything he remembered before being reincarnated and then at the age of 24 after graduating from university he published a book retelling his story. Society, just like his father, quickly dismissed it under the false and shallow pretension of fiction. Erwin didn’t mind, and at an interview when he was asked what had inspired him to write such a masterpiece, he simple answered: “It’s as if I’ve lived this life before”. In retrospect, a bold statement, but one that had triggered incredulous looks and nervous laughs. It didn’t matter, as long as he was the one that knew the truth.

At the airport, he was met with a very angry Nanaba, that proceeded to punch him in the shoulder as soon as she spotted him coming through the automatic sliding doors, dressed with cargo short pants, white t-shirt and one of those hawaiian shirts, espadrilles not missing from completing his outfit. He apologised and shook Mike’s hand, that came up from Nanaba, trying to calm his petite lover from ending Erwin’s life then and there. His friends, like everyone else he had become acquainted with in this life, did not remember their past lives. They had met in college when he tried to hit on Nanaba and earned himself a punch from Mike, who apologised shortly after and bought him a drink.

“You are well aware we’re going to France, right?” Mike eyed his outfit, and scrunched his nose in something close but not quite to disgust.

“The eccentric writer facade ain’t holding up anymore, you seriously need to change outfits.” Nanaba also joined in.

“I was up writing, thence the messy outfit. I do actually have fancy clothes packed.” Erwin retorted, trying to save himself from their scrutinising gazes.

“Good, because I want to enjoy some of those pretentious wines they’re so famous from at one of those expensive terraces that overlook the sea without wanting to crawl under the table from being seen with a hobo like you. Now come on, plane’s not waiting for anyone.” Nanaba flipped him off, her way of reprimanding him.

“Au revoir America, bien venue France!” Erwin exclaimed, mixing french with english.

“How much did it take to learn those?” Mike asked, amused.

“Only 3 thorough Duolingo lessons, of course.”

-

Levi pushed the door of the little vintage cafe open and was immediately met with the sight of Hange engaging in quite a heated make-out session with Petra. His arrival at home yesterday was met with nothing more than pure joy, as he was bombarded by his mother’s kisses as soon as he walked into the house. They spent a quiet evening on the balcony, enjoying some tea and simply talking the evening away. It felt good to return, he missed the salted air, the chilly breeze, the pink flowers and green bushes, and the exquisite view of the mediterranean sea. Later, when the mosquitoes had started to annoy them, Levi and Kuchel retired back inside the living room, where he was urged by her to play her favourite piece on the piano that had dust on it from never being used anymore. Upon the arrival of the next day, Levi headed to Petra’s cafe, a small vintage shop, which she had opened up quite recently after successfully raising the funds necessary. It was right in the middle of the hill, its glass windows giving a clear view of the stony road and orange coloured walls and roads of the city.

“You guys should get a room, it’s gross.” He said, not one bit of disgust lacing his words. He truly was happy to see his friends again.

“Levi!!!!!” Hange squealed and broke away from Petra, practically jumping over the counter before she threw herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. Petra’s behaviour was hardly any different, surging on the other two and tumbling all three of them down to the floor. They stayed like that for a few minutes until the first customer of the day arrived with an awkward cough to get their attention. For the rest of the day, they chatted quietly, each with a cup of special Petra coffee in their hands, reminiscing about old childhood memories and the things they did while they were apart. Hange had successfully landed an internship at a renowned research company back in London and Petra bought her first place, somewhere they would surely go after she closed the cafe.

“So how’s it going for you Levi? You seeing anyone?” Hange interrupted a peaceful silence then took another sip of her coffee, eyeing him curiously.

“Well, no not really. I guess I’m still waiting for the right person.” Levi replied, his mind drifting off involuntarily to Erwin.

“That’s a pity, tell him Petra!”

“I guess so.” The strawberry blonde sighed, scrubbing the counter. She looked troubled, stressed if Levi knew any better.

“Everything all right?” He asked, hoping she would tell him what was bothering her.

“Theoretically yes, the cafe’s been growing in popularity and the number of costumers has increased exponentially and it has become harder and harder for me to keep up. It’s afternoon and I’m already exhausted.”

“Hire someone to help you.” He offered.

“I would have, I even put up a sign a while ago asking for help, but it’s summer and you know how it is. Everyone would rather bathe than work.” Petra leaned on the counter, huffing exhausted.

“You know, Hange and I could help you if you’d like, until the summer’s end and till you find someone.” Levi scooted over closer to Petra and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sure! There is nothing we’d rather do, Pet.” Hange joined in, assuring her girlfriend.

“You guys, thank you.” Petra smiled brightly, exhaling in relief.

-

Their first day in Marseille had been spent at the beach until they were all fried. Well, Erwin had managed to get a nice tan, save for the red slight burns on his shoulders, those didn’t count. Nanaba had made sure to use sunscreen, but with her pale skin tone, she had turned into a lobster by mid afternoon. Deciding that it was enough sun for today, the three settled on exploring the city, in particular the ports, where smell of fresh caught fish would imbue their noses, the hill village, the sights recommended on the internet, like the colourful Noailles Market, Musée des Civilisatons de l’Europe et de la Méditerranée, and following a maniacal Nanaba that sprinted through every shop in La Panier.

As six o’clock came by, hunger made its presence known in their stomachs, they started searching for a restaurant. With an immense amount of luck and without too much time spent looking, the three had found themselves in Restaurant Peron, escorted to a four persons table right next to the clear glass that provided them with an extraordinary view of the sea, admiring the calm relentless waves and snow white moon that reflected itself on the clear water. When the waiter came, Erwin ordered, putting on his best french accent.

“Un Ricard, s’il vous plait.” He managed to make a fool out of himself, sounding exactly like an ignorant American. Un Ricard was an alcoholic beverage made with aniseed and spice that turns an enticing shade of yellow once water is added, a local must try. Nanaba ordered herself an Aperol sprits and Mike a whiskey on the rocks. The waiter bowed and went to get their drinks. While they waited the three engaged in casual conversation, their voices accompanied by the low murmur of the sea and other people’s conversation.

“I believe this has been quite a successful weekend, don’t you think, honey?” Nanaba asked Mike, leaning her face on her hands.

“Indeed. Happy 5th Anniversary, Nanaba!” Mike kissed her cheek tenderly. Erwin watched the display with nothing more than pure envy. It wasn’t fair that they had found each other despite not knowing their past life, it was utterly infuriating and it made Erwin seethe with anger and frustration, both emotions directed more at himself because he had not found him yet, Levi, his lover, his everything.

“Excuse me, monsieur. I brought the drinks.” The waiter interrupted them, making Erwin forever grateful as he was not sure how much more he could bare. He bowed and retrated, leaving them to enjoy their drinks. The Ricard Pastis Erwin had ordered had a creamy texture and yellow colour, bringing the glass to his lips, he tasted it, immediately scrunching up his nose from how strong it was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to it, god knows his college years hard served for so much, so many nights spent drowning vodka and absinth bottles, he just hadn’t expected it to be so strong, he thought it would be like Nanaba’s Aperol, slightly bitter and sweet. Mike was sipping slowly on his whiskey and asked:

“Any plans for tomorrow?”

“How about we stick to just visiting the town, my skin can’t take any more sun.” Nanaba proposed, hinting to her burnt shoulders that were covered with a very nice white blouse. Mike and Erwin both agreed.

-

Levi fumbled with the speakers’ wire trying to get them to connect with his phone. It was his first shift today together with Petra, Hange will come later tonight to take his place, something completely unnecessary as he would stay anyway. It was his turn to choose the playlist and he resorted to a simple jazz playlist that would blend in nicely in the background acting as white noise. Once that was settled, he wrapped around himself the black apron with the shop’s logo on it and went up to the counter, patiently waiting for the first costumer.

-

Their second day in Marseille was spent indulging in even more sightseeing. Nanaba woke them up at the crack of dawn, excited and completely oblivious to Mike’s and Erwin’s sower moods, dragging them with her to their first destination: Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde. Located in a breathtaking hilltop, this spectacular church is the most important landmark in Marseilles. The site was used in ancient times as an observation point, and during the Middle Ages, was the location of a pilgrimage chapel. Erwin enjoyed the renaissance architecture, admiring the big hemispherical dome with a big golden cross on top of it, the golden statuette of what he reckoned was Virgin Mary, the symmetrical high arches, and smaller, little angel statues. It was truly a sight to behold. Their next destination was also a historical landmark: Abbaye Saint-Victor, a house of worship once belonged to an abbey founded in the 5th century. The abbey's basilica is one of the oldest buildings in Marseilles that is still intact, with foundations dating back to Early Christian and Carolingian times. With its crenellated walls and towers, the foreboding exterior has the feel of a medieval fortress. Inside, the basilica reveals a simple and somber design, which gives it a special aura. The crypt houses sarcophagi of the 4th and 5th centuries, as well as the 11th-century tombstone of Abbot Isarnus. It fascinated Erwin immensely, so much so that he filled his gallery with the amount of selfies and normal pictures he took.

He lied when he said he would find his inspiration here, but he was not so sure that it was true. The city’s architecture and overall way of being, from the local’s lifestyle, to its history and vibe, Erwin was sure to use all of this while working on his new book. Wether he would add a spin off in the book, or make references and parallels to everything he saw here.

It was now mid-afternoon and Erwin was exhausted, the sun constantly warming his head had not done a great job of comforting him in the slightest. They were now in Le Panier again, Nanaba having decided that she did not see all of it the day before and that it was absolutely mandatory they go again. Not wanting to be a burden, although he would have much rather gone to his room, Erwin agreed and set on following closely the two before him who were very much engrossed in their own little world. The old town, like any other part of Marseille they had visited, was also magnificent, with its romanesque architecture, houses that were colourful and joined together, and paved streets. It also housed a lot of shade, making him able to cool down and gather up whatever strength he had left.

The thirst he had tried to ignore for the better part of the day had become unbearable, his throat dry like a desert. As such, Erwin made it his mission to find some place from where he could purchase a water bottle. They passed by jewellery stores and artisan themed shops, displaying their handmade products, like dresses with weird designs from cottons, crystals, wooden scultpures, etc. Finally, in a corner, they had found a small cafe: Haricots vapeur de Petra. Quite a long name for a cafe but who was he to judge. He asked Nanaba and Mike if they wanted to join him but they quickly refused, instead choosing to go ahead. Erwin announced them that they will be seeing each other at the hotel before dinner. That way he could spare a few hours relaxing at the small tables placed outside the cafe, enjoying whatever drinks they were serving. He pushed the front door open and was immediately assaulted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee. The cafe was very nice, inside was quite chilly as there was the air conditioner blowing. Its walls were made of brick, from them hanging several plants, portraits, and drawings of people having coffee and the like. It had small circular tables with purple plush chairs that contrasted perfect to the black counter that housed pastries of all kinds: croissants (of course), pains au chocolate, cinnamon rolls, and macarons of all kinds of colours. It was just like an ordinary American cafe.

“Puis-je vous aider ?” That voice, the familiar voice. It rang through his head and brought back memories of the man he had tried to find for so long. He lifted his gaze and was met with the sight of no one other than Levi freaking Ackerman, cleaning a cup, completely oblivious to him.

“Levi."

-

“Levi.”

That voice. It couldn’t be could it? Levi refused to look up, he was imagining things, it was because of the song, the song he played the man a life time ago. We’ll meet again was playing through the cafe’s speakers, it was only natural he would be thinking back to when he visited Erwin’s grave one last time. With his hands now shaking he continued to clean the glass even more frantically, wiping away inexistent water, droplets he imagined were still there.

“Levi, is that you?” Once would be considered a coincidence, but twice? Finally, the raven haired boy looked up, only to have his breath stuck in his throat. Right in front of him was Erwin freaking Smith, the man he loves even to this day, the time spent together and the promises still so fresh in his mind. Erwin had kept his promise, he found Levi.

“Erwin.” Levi croaked, overwhelmed by emotions. He ran around the counter, stopping for a moment in front of his lover to look at him again. Erwin was exactly the same, except for an almost unnoticeable tan, his hair was now sitting comfortably on his forehead, instead of being styled back with gel. Levi jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around the other's waist so tight, afraid to let go as he might disappear, proving only to be a figment of his imagination. He buried his face into Erwin's neck, inhaling the scent of cologne, sweat, and sunscreen. His lover snaked his hands around his waist and held him tightly, in the same desperate manner. Pulling away, Levi looked into his eyes again, relieved to see the same warm sapphire blue orbs staring right back at him. They were whole again, together again. Unable to hide his excitement anymore, the raven brought their lips together in a kiss, one in which they poured all of their emotions, the longing, love, and relief they had for one another were all present.

“Tu m’as trouvé!” Levi pulled back, out of breath.

“English please.” Erwin chuckled, running a hand through his hair, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his year before putting him down. Levi looked at him in confusion. If Erwin didn’t know french then that meant…

“We should perhaps talk. Wait here for a moment please.” He told him, pulling his hand away from where it was intertwined with the other’s. Taking a step back, he began untying his apron, then turned on his feet to head to the back where Petra was, baking pastries probably.

“Petra, can you cover for me? Something came up. Hange should be here soon, I hope you don’t mind.” At the sound of his voice, Petra turned around just as she was leaning down to grab the tray with freshly baked pastries from the oven. She searched his face, noticing the look of bewilderment, and made to grab his arm in comfort. Levi pulled away.

“I’ll tell you later, but please let me go!” Levi all but begged, making Petra shake her head with wide eyes as she still didn’t understand what was going on.

“Call me if anything happens.” She demanded. Levi thanked her then bolted out back to the front of the cafe where Erwin was waiting awkwardly in the door, never actually having left the spot. As soon as the blonde spotted him, he offered the other the usual warm smile.

“Why don’t you speak french, Erwin.” Levi asked him and gestured for the other to follow him out the cafe. Once outside they started walking on the direction of Levi’s house, unbeknownst yet to Erwin.

“I’m actually a tourist.” Erwin murmured, understanding finally the graveness of their situation.

“Where are you from then?” Levi croaked, his disappointment taking the best of him.

“USA, came here on vacation with some friends.”

“Américain.” Levi spat, his frustration finally showing. “How are we going to make it work Erwin?”

“I don’t know Levi, I believe that’s a problem for another time. I’m here for another week, let’s enjoy ourselves shall we?” Erwin took his hand and kissed it in an assuring manner, smiling again.

“Okay.”

And enjoy themselves they did. Making sure that Kuchel was out, Levi brought Erwin to his house, taking him through every room while he talked about his childhood, his vocabulary limited because his english wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Erwin was patient and didn’t push him, instead helped him by filling in the gaps with google translate or by using his own words when he understood the direction the story was headed in. At some point, they stumbled upon the piano and the blonde urged him to play it, Levi complying not only by second nature, thinking involuntarily to their time on their battlefield, but also by desire, pouring his heart and soul into each and every key he pressed, eliciting sounds that would later formed the master piece named Canon in D major. Erwin listened intently, absorbing every sound Levi produced, his gaze focused solely and completely on him. His lover playing the piano was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. The onyx black hair hung loosely in the air as Levi played, his brows furrowing in concentration, and shoulders tensing when he lifted each hand over the keyboard.

As the song came to an end, unable to hold himself back anymore, Erwin scooped Levi up in his arms and brought him to the couch, the other straddling his waist. It was all too much, the smell of Levi, the feel of Levi, the smooth alabaster skin, silky hair, minty breath, and citrus smelling musk. Levi, Levi, Levi. Erwin brought their lips together in a heated kiss, introducing his tongue shortly after, probing the entrance then entering fully. For a while, that was all they did. They kissed like teenagers, running their hands through each other’s bodies, remapping and rediscovering them. Slowly, Levi became more demanding and started to undo Erwin’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders and caressed his hand over his chest, playing with the curly strands of blond hair that lined it, although scarce. He then kissed his neck and clavicle. All the while, Erwin had been undressing Levi, his fingers now at his entrance, working slowly but steadily their way in. In his arms, the raven writhed, low moans filling the room.

Done with the stretching, Erwin positioned himself at the other’s entrance, entering him slowly as to not hurt him. Once he was fully seated, he waited for Levi’s signal to move, a slow nod in the pit of his neck shortly after. Their rhythm was slow at first, an occasion to feel each other out, but as their moans got louder in volume, the pace, inevitably increased, turning the love making session into something more rushed and more carnal. They had all week ahead of them, they had plenty of time for slow and passionate love later. After a few more minutes each of them reached their climax, Levi first by tensing all of the sudden, his mouth open in a silent scream, then Erwin shortly after with a low groan. The smaller of the two slumped his forehead against the other’s chest and tried to recover, his panting waning.

“I love you.” Erwin brought his lover’s head up and looked him straight in the eye. Levi replied with a lop-sided me too before retaking his position in the crook of his neck, where he shortly passed out, the physical and emotional effort from the day finally taking their toll on his petite frame.

For the rest of the week, Levi showed Erwin the rest of Marseille, taking him sailing with Petra and Hange, snorkelling in the turquoise water, dining in other less famous restaurants that harboured a magnificent view nonetheless, and hiking. Levi also got to meet Nanaba and Mike, a meeting that was awkward at first but then turned casual as the chemistry they had in their past life never had quite gone away. It was now their last day, and they both chose to organise a brunch on a boat Erwin offered to rent. It had started out great, the interactions between the rest of the group going smoothly, but as night inched closer, Levi grew significantly more and more upset. The reason, revealed to him that night when they were alone, tucked in bed together, was none other than Erwin’s departure. It was time to say goodbye, their short week of heaven brought to an end by force of circumstance, a tragic end to an equally beautiful story. A soulmate who was not meant to be, at least not in this lifetime. They could try a long distance relationship, but that was inconvenient for both of them, they would soon fall apart, each having to take care of their lives. Levi had to work towards a degree and Erwin towards finishing a new book.

“Don’t go.” Levi suddenly croaked, turning towards him and taking his hands, kissing each of their knuckles. “I don’t want you leaving me again.”

Erwin turned his head away in thought. He was a writer, he could basically work from anywhere. In Paris he was sure to find a good publisher, working while also living with Levi in his apartment. If he put in a little effort he might manage it. But what about Nanaba and Mike? Would they understand? Would they still maintain their bond? Is he willing to give everything up for Levi? Erwin furrowed his brows, concentrating and thinking even more. Of course, he would go to the end of the earth for Levi, would rip his heart out of his chest and give it to him. Therefore, he voiced the only obvious answer for his lover’s request:

“I’ll stay.”

-

At the airport the next day Erwin hugged Levi and kissed him on the cheek, bidding his goodbye to his lover. After accepting to stay, they both decided that it would be best for Erwin to return to the states to get his affairs into order and when he would be finished he would return back to France and start his new life with Levi. So, with a waving hand, Erwin fell into step with Nanaba and Mike, who were waiting in line to board the plane. Levi smiled his way and said:

“Au revoir, Erwin Smith.”

[ecoamerica]

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