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[r-vera]

𝐀𝐧𝐝…𝐒𝐞𝐭

Pairing- Art Donaldson x !female reader

Summary: Art's determination to win collides with his distant connection with Tashi. You always knew it was a problem, but one incident snapped your band of patience and found the urge to address it. (I suck at writing summaries forgive me!<3)

Warnings- Cursing, fluff, small angst but with happy ending

Word Count- 1.4k

Authors note: Hii! Soo this is my third post and I really hope this one's good in your opinion. I feel like this coudve been written better but I wanted to post something since it has been a minute. Also, I didn't watch Challengers so this might not be as accurate just FYI!! Also againn, this does have a spicy version sitting in my drafts so if this gets enough recognition and you guys want it then I'd be more than happy to post it. Enjoy!

“Art, baby-” You uttered softly while he grabbed his tennis racket from one of the many benches surrounding the tennis court. Sweat covered his forehead and shirt from the summer heat, eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, hands red and irritated from the firm grip he had on the racket when swinging, and Tashi’s stare from the sidelines, right beside where you were, only encouraged it.

  “Don’t ‘baby’ him, you know it'll only distract him from what he needs,” Tashi replied, black sunglasses-covered eyes still set on Art, now beginning his stance as the trainer began to set the ball once more. 

You understood where the woman came from...to a short extent. She’d been your friend since college, both having dreams about becoming the best. But ever since her injury and your lack of motivation, you both stopped doing what you loved. You accepted that. Tashi couldn't.

“What he needs is a break, Tashi, a real one.” She only rolled her eyes in return, not caring if you saw it or not. You wanted to say something, demand something, but you knew how important this was to Art. Knew that if you tried to take the sliver of hope he had at ameliorating his already perfect skills of what he’s trying to love away, then he’d never forgive you.

With a huff of annoyance, you opened your mouth to say anything reasonable that could go through your old friend’s thick skull but was interrupted by a yelp, followed by a tennis racket hitting the ground, the noise echoing throughout the court. Your chest tightened, and a sharp breath caught in your throat as you saw Art lying on the ground, face grimacing in utter pain while hunched over and clutching his right ankle. 

“Art!” You ran to him, not noticing Tashi behind your trail. You knew this would happen; You knew Tashi would push him too far. You knew Art wouldn’t be able to just listen to you-

“Get a fucking medic already!” Tashi exclaimed to the shocked trainer watching over the situation. They stood for a second more before rushing to get help. 

You knelt to Art’s level, cradling his face in your hands. The small movements of your thumbs drew circles against his temple. You hoped, no, prayed, it did him any good. 

“Just breathe, love, you’re okay.” The reassurance in your smile and the soft gaze in your eyes relaxed Art into a consistent breathing pattern. His hand wrapped around your wrist for support as he shook his head in dismissal. You noticed Tashi, kneeling beside him on the other side, looking at him with the same, if not more, deeper concern than you. Her hands shook lightly in her lap as she observed the two of you and if you weren’t mistaken, she wanted to reach out to him herself.

“I-It’s fine. I’m good for another hit.” Art muttered in what tried to be confidence, but the shakiness in his voice said otherwise. His heavy eyes fixated on Tashi when saying ‘another hit’ almost like he needed her confirmation to let him continue practicing. 

“What?” you exclaimed. Tashi’s eyes widened when she noticed Art’s gaze on her. “Art, no. Help me take him to the car.” Thankfully, you majored in specialized healthcare and knew the basics of treating a sprained ankle so taking him home wasn’t a big deal.

“What about the medic-” Tashi began.

“Fuck the medic!” You cut off, mumbling “They’re taking too long” in the process. You hooked your arms around him as Tashi did the same to his right. 

The drive home was silent except for the light grunts Art made with every slight bump in the road. You tried to make him comfortable as much as you could; resting your hand on his knee, reassuring him everything was okay and well, kissing his reddened knuckles once or twice with sympathy. 

You managed to get Art out of the car without struggle and rest him on one of the couches that accompanied your shared living room. Wrapping his foot was the easy part, but convincing him to rest and take it easy was a whole different story. 

“Art, Angel, please just lay down. The court isn’t going to grow legs and leave.” You joked as you knelt before him, one hand clutching his own. He sighed while tilting his head back in final defeat, nodding in understanding.

“I know baby, I get it. It’s just- if I’m going to compete for this season then it’s whatever it takes. Tashi…” He paused.

“‘Tashi’ what?” You deadpanned with a little more forceness than intended. Given his situation, you knew he couldn’t help how he felt about his (toxic) ex and coach. He loved you with all of his fiber and being, no doubt, but Art never could understand that his vulnerability, trust, attachment,  poured out of him without even knowing. You felt the need to close your eyes and take a deep breath. Exhaling all the creeping stress that was about to shoot out your body and attack Art without fault. “Art. listen to me, please, I know you want her to coach you, I know that, and I’ve been trying to let you get to where you want to go with your career. I understand. But do I really have to list everything she’s done to you without an ounce of sympathy? Before and after you married her.”

Art’s eyes averted from yours, finding the couch more interesting than the needed conversation. 

“That’s not fair.” He muttered. You scoffed.

“No, what’s not fair is the constant stress she used to put you in. What’s not fair is the fact that I had to watch you work your ass off and be rewarded with a fucking cuss-out from her because she thought you still weren't good enough…a wife doesn’t do that to her husband.”

Art’s head finally turns to you. The whites of his eyes were red, eye bags more prominent than ever. Blush stained his cheeks, neck, and pouty lips. He looked exhausted. 

“I just wanted her to accept me…I still w-want her to accept me.” his mouth contorted into disgust as if what he said was the most controversial thing in the world. He reached for the bottom of your top and tugged, encouraging you to rest your body on top of his, and you hesitantly obliged. “And I swear to you it’s not because I still love her, you know that. I guess…” He paused. You reached your hand to glide your fingers through the blonde hair that lay on the nape of his neck, looking at him with soft, understanding eyes, encouraging him to use his words. To finally release his true feelings about something hidden for way too long. “I guess it’s partly because of pity? Y’know with her injury and everything. When we were…something, I saw the look of pure agony and anger on her face when she found out she wouldn’t be able to play anymore, and I felt horrible. Just imagining not doing the one thing you’ve worked so hard for kills me.”

“You felt as though you needed to continue her dream through you,” You summarized but shortly chuckled before straddling Art’s waist. “Art you’re too vulnerable for your own damn good.” He sheepishly smiles while shrugging.

“Just say I have attachment issues, I can take it.” Snickering, you playfully rolled your eyes. At least he wasn’t completely clueless, you thought. 

“I would never make you do anything against your will, but I feel like after the world champs you should take a good break for a while and maybe separate yourself from Tashi,” You said, the statement sounding more like a question. “Just to see if she might be the one holding you down.”

His head tilted to the side in peak curiosity, eyes squinted and tense before they relaxed into soft irises. You knew he knew the answer, but what worried you was the sincerity behind it. He would do anything and everything to please you; it was his perfect flaw, but sometimes that flaw overtook him. Trapped him. You just hoped his answer would hold sureness in it. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” He nodded, a lazy smile, that replicated yours, plastered on his face.

“Yes, baby. I love you. I want to make you my wife. I’m going to make you my wife. Why would I fuck that up?” Silence engulfed you as your stomach began to turn. The love you had for him outweighed the stars, fuck, it outweighed the whole universe. And as he looked up to you tired eyes glistening, perfect lips smiling, amazing hands caressing, you knew. You knew he could listen and cherish and understand anything you brought to him; whether it’d be small or big, annoying or reasonable. You knew he would still be there. 

[r-vera]

Did NOT expect my first blog to get as much love as it did!!🫶🫶🫶

Thanks for giving me a chance ❤

[r-vera]

Honestly!! You're the inspiration 😭😭

Needing requests in my inbox please 🙏🏻😭💀

[r-vera]

I'm With You

Summary- You notice Spencer’s mental health slowly drain while working on a complicated case and you’d do whatever to relieve that stress, even if it meant involving yourself in a subject you barely know about.

Rating- Not Rlly Mature

Pairing- Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Warnings- no use of y/n, very slight angst, established relationship, small kissing, happy ending, fluff, fluff, fluff, hopefully that’s all!

Words- 1.5k

You lay comfortably on your love, Spencer’s mahogany long couch while reading one of the many books he collected every other week. You appreciated his love and care for books, even if most of them were informational. It encouraged you to dive further into your reading skills, increasing them for the sake of your own intelligence and enjoyment. Your reading also gave you a distraction from his absence, still stuck on a case at the BAU–probably racking his brain, trying to sense answers to confusing clues and openings to dead ends but never getting far because of the complexity of the case. He could only tell you bits and pieces of the unsolved case for confidential purposes, and you even tried some late evenings to dissect clues yourself. Even if you weren’t a professional in that range of work, your determination made Spencer smile, and you’d do anything to make him show his cute smile lines and tiny crinkles around his eyes.

It was almost as if he read your mind because you then heard the sound of keys dropping on the ground and whispered curses coming from outside the apartment door. Excitement filled your entire body as you closed the book, gently placing it on the coffee table before you, and rushed to help open the door. Your eyes met his tired, sunburned ones, and you swore everything around you disappeared, only brightening his perfectly imperfect features more.

“Sunshine,” Spencer breathed out, engulfing the light of his life in a bone-crushing hug. You felt all of the built-up tension in his muscles melt away as he held you in his arms.

“I missed you,” you muffled dearly into the crook of his neck, smiling at the distant smell of your signature perfume you accidentally sprayed on his white collar while you two got ready for work.

“I missed you too, darling. This case will be the literal death of me.” You sighed while mindlessly tugging at the nape of his unruly curls, eliciting a relaxing groan from him. You knew what you were in for when Spencer revealed his tiresome job to you all those years ago, and you understood the stress that came with it, even if you felt the concern resting in the pit of your stomach when you saw the damage the job could do to him.

“Oh, Spence...Hey, let’s put a hold on dinner for now and rest on the couch. You can tell me everything that’s been clouding your perfect mind, yeah?” You released your hold on him to snake an arm over his limp one, guiding him into the apartment and closing the door to make your way back to where you were sitting. Spencer only followed your way without complaint, already knowing it wouldn’t have made a difference if he rebuttaled.

You sat crisscrossed on the cushioned surface while your love rested his head on your lap, the rest of his body spread out on the other cushions. Your fingers went back into his hair, hitting all the right spots you’ve memorized just for him. Spencer’s eyes fluttered in complete bliss, and just for a second, all of his troubles disappeared. One of his hands reached up from its rested position to your wrist, gliding his fingertips loosely back and forth on your soft skin until mindlessly playing with the beaded friendship bracelet he made for you in high school.

“Morgan’s been telling me to cut some slack with everything that's been going on, but I just…I feel like the answer to all of this is on the tip of my tongue, and I’m scared it’ll be too late when I finally figure it out.” He then grabbed your wrist and laid a lingering kiss on your skin before placing your hand on his heart, craving reassurance that you weren’t going to slip out of his grasp at his most vulnerable moment, and you let him. You’d let him do anything if it assured you that he was okay. “God, the look on the victim's face when we told them there was another holdback right after we gave them hope–right after I told the team that I figured a way out of the loop.” You realized he was blaming all of this on himself, something he usually did when he felt obligated to carry anything to feel like he’d done good. You patted his chest a few times before tracing the outline of a random clear button on his shirt.

“Honey, you do realize you have a whole team that has your back, right? I truly, and I mean, truly understand how you’re feeling right now. I do, love, but please understand you can lean on them from time to time. You don’t have to share everything that’s on your mind but just something so you don’t have to hold in all of those strong feelings that are begging to be free.” You knew sometimes Spencer needed some type of push to get your word across, but you could feel his shoulders tense once again, and his finger tapping on the side of the couch grew faster. You sighed, placing your hands on his shoulders and massaging them, hoping they would relax again. You then thought of an idea, an idea your beau probably wouldn’t agree to. “What if I…helped you?”

Spencer let out a breathless chuckle. “You tried to, remember?” Though he couldn’t see, you rolled your eyes with slight amusement.

“And I failed because I didn’t have all of the information.” His lazy smile was still planted on his face as he sat up to face you.

“I told you, sunshine, they’re confidential.” You sensed seriousness in his tone, but that didn’t stop you from backing down.

“Please baby, let me help you. It kills me whenever you're feeling this way. I just want you to feel better. Let me make you feel better.” You whispered as your hand cradled the side of his face; he automatically melted into your touch. You could see the gears moving in his head until he threw his head back, his hands covering his face as he groaned in half-hearted annoyance. He couldn’t say no to you, and you knew that. You grinned as he began to get up and head in the direction of your shared room, already knowing he was getting the files to the case.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

It had been a few hours since the start of you and Spencer’s private investigation. The aroma of chicken alfredo still lingered around the apartment as your bowls rested on the coffee table that accompanied scattered files and loose papers. Your body relaxed against Spencer’s as his arm lay behind you on the couch. Your brows scrunched together in thought as you looked at your notebook, each scribble, and scratch having some type of codded meaning only you could understand.

Spencer stayed silent as he went over old articles and personal intel from the victims and convicted felons for what felt like the hundredth time. His glasses hung loosely from his nose, mindlessly pushing them up every once in a while. You skimmed through your notes until finding a sentence that felt very familiar to something that was based on the case. Sitting up, you scrimmaged through papers and more papers until finding exactly what you were looking for. Holding the two pieces of paper together, you actually found what was missing.

“Spence! Spence! I think I found it!” You beamed, shaking him out of his daze.

“Lemme see love.” He asked before you gave the two pieces of paper to him. You explained the connection between the two objects, deciphering the little details that were lodged into the evidence. What fit. What didn’t. How the intel was missed. The truth behind the victim really having something else up their sleeve that was blinded by manipulation and advanced guarding. Spencer couldn’t believe it. After weeks and weeks of constant stress and broken evidence, his beautiful, smart, endearing, love of his life managed to figure it all out.

“We did it!” You celebrated with a sigh and big stretch that’d been contained for hours and Spencer could only look at you in awe. He then grabbed your face which erupted a yelp from you until it turned into giggles when he began to litter kisses all over you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” He kept repeating, each vowel sounding more heartfelt and meaningful. His smile radiated off of him like the sun and you couldn’t help but really kiss him, wanting his love more than just simple physical contact. He melted into you as his soft lips moved in sync with yours, following your lead. You held on as long as you could before releasing for air. “I don’t deserve you.” He whispered though the sentence was loud and you understood him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed the top of his head, then nose, and lips before whispering back, “You deserve the world.”

A/N: Hii guys, it’s been a minute since I last posted and I didn’t expect that blog to get as many notes as I thought it was going to get lol. Thank you, truly. I kind of just winged this imagine, not really knowing what I was doing but I thought the plot was cute so wth its ok. Again, if something doesn’t really add up to Spencer’s personality please tell me and I’ll make sure to fix itt!! I like criticism, even if it’s the hard truth lol. Thank you!!!

[r-vera]

Trust me

Summary- Benedict has been acting weird because of an incident involving one of his muses (she attempted to sa him). Reader tried to gently coax him out of his ‘bubble’ though it was no use until she tried to touch him, earning her a jolt.

Rating- Mature (16+)

Paring- Benedict Bridgerton x female!reader

Warnings- Angst, talks of se***l assault, fluff, slight language, established relationship, happy ending (hopefully that’s all)

Words- 1,841

“Daph, may I ask you something?” you quipped quite unexpectedly. Both you and Daphne were basking in this season’s summer heat from inside Clyvedon Castle’s drawing room, enjoying a rather nice cup of tea. Daphne had decided her time being a Duchess was well-earned for now and was in desperate need of her family’s boastful laughs and silly jests—not to mention their hectic dinners—to indulge her once again. You were especially excited for her visit, not only because you had a chance to see Daph’s little bundle of joy, but because you and she were very close, even before the Duke himself. Childhood friends. You remember all those years ago when you tried to encourage her relationship with the Duke, supporting him over the charming but ‘bland’ prince. She reciprocated her feelings, knowing your deep affection for her big brother, Benedict, and desperately tried to get both of you to admit your stubborn feelings for each other. Her efforts successfully paid off, resulting in the love-bird couple getting married two weeks after their confessions.

It was almost the reason you set up a little date with your friend. Your relationship with Benedict had somehow…shifted? You didn’t want to jump to conclusions before talking with your husband; you knew he preferred some space at times, especially if an idea popped into his creative brain and he wanted to sketch or paint it out before the thought could disappear as soon as it came. But this time…this time felt off. Your first hint was waking up to a cold and empty bed, though you passed it off as a little accident from him staying up late painting (it’s usually when he feels most creative), but then those cold mornings became continuous. You felt it was best to leave it as it was, for now—not exactly avoiding the situation but analyzing it for a deeper reasoning. In the afternoon, when the family mostly had time to take a break from important activities, you would greet your husband with a simple “Hello love” or “Have a wonderful evening, Ben,” but it only resulted in brief nods and odd grunts he never let out before. It was a breaking point when he stayed out the whole evening, never coming back until early morning, only making eye contact with you for the first time at breakfast. You never wanted to jump to conclusions with him, but there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that whatever was troubling him could not be good and would only be revealed if you gently guided him to confess.

“Of course, dear sister,” she said with adoration. “What has been on your mind?” You played with the embroidery on your dress, encouraging yourself to say what had been on your mind for the past week.

“Has Benedict been acting a bit…strange around me?” You could tell your husband had no problems with his family; in fact, you noticed he’d been engaging with them more than he used to. It only added more slight hurt and suspicion to your heart, knowing the problem was most likely you. Your friend only added more salt to the wound when a poorly concealed look of guilt was etched onto her face. Shaking your head, you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to pour from your burning eyes. So it is you. You’re the reason he’s been acting this way; you're the reason he can’t so much as look you in the eye with adoration and instead, uncomfortablene-

“Now, now, I didn’t say I know the reason why he has been acting this way…just that I have noticed,” she said, placing a gloved hand on top of your fidgeting bare ones.

“Have I done something wrong, Daph? Did I disrespect him in any way? Could it be the time I accidentally took the last blueberry tart that one day? I swear I didn’t know that was the last of them!” You remembered his frustration when he found out who ate his favorite dessert that only came seasonally, but he told you it was perfectly fine, blaming himself for not getting to them fast enough. Daphne only smiled at your silly accusation; this was a serious matter, of course, but it was nice to see you deeply care for her brother and his feelings, even going as far as to think of the tiniest times something conflicting had happened between you two.

“It couldn’t possibly be because of something so little and, dare I say, pointless,” Daphne moved closer to you, grabbing both of your hands in the process. “Tell me, when was the last time he acted normal towards you?” You tried to recall, surfing past a week of old memories until focusing on a time when he told you quite happily about a new art project that consisted of a new muse he met at one of the diversified functions he (now rarely) went to. You knew where Benedict’s heart lay and had no problem with who he used for his artistic designs whatsoever, so using another woman for his professional acts never triggered you.

“Well, he was boasting to me about finding a new muse for some artwork before going to bed, and then after his first encounter with the woman, that was when he started to act strange.” Daphne hummed, understanding your words carefully.

“Now, I don’t want to worry you, but maybe his actions have something to do with this muse.” You tried to ignore the deep pang of nervousness within your chest. No. Ben is never the type of person to commit such a vile act.

“I won’t jump to conclusions, but somehow I need to talk with him.” Your dear friend only nodded in agreement.

“It is all you can do, sister. Benedict can have some trouble confessing things that do not relate to others, but with a gentle push, he’ll pour everything he’s tried to conceal out like a waterfall, so don’t try to drown.” She teased with a slight squeeze of your hands, trying to lighten the dark conversation.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

It was now late evening. Most Bridgertons had called it a night, preparing for the next activities that awaited them the next day; meanwhile, you awaited your husband in your shared chambers, sitting on the foot of the bed in your cream nightgown, one of Ben’s favorites. Your husband awkwardly met with you after another time at the bar with Anthony. He stood in front of the entryway, tugging on the collar of his suit as if a hand was wrapped around his throat, stubbornly staying there. You immediately arose from your position, too nervous to say anything that would get him to abruptly leave like other times.

“Ben…” you whispered softly, unintentionally reaching out a delicate hand in the hope he’d grab it and hug you like he never had before and all would be well, but instead, you received a firm nod and a fast-paced walk toward the water closet. “Benedict!” you demanded more firmly, grabbing his hand in the process, but he instantly removed it from your grasp like it was the hottest thing in the world. Benedict stumbled back, wide-eyed with unstable breaths, heart pounding from the touch. You stood where you were, not knowing what to do. Never had he purposely removed your touch; never so quickly and with a face of horror. “What have I done?” you mumbled more to yourself.

Benedict hesitantly said your name but was quickly cut off by your pained voice. “What did you do that day in your art room with that…woman?” you cautiously crept closer to your husband, too afraid he would jerk away once again. Benedict looked as if he was on the verge of vomiting, cringing when you mentioned ‘woman.’

“N-Nothing, love.” Love. The kind and adoring word felt forced and bland coming from him. It only made you inwardly cry once more.

“Benedict, you must tell me. Whatever it is; I won’t get mad. I swear it.” It was like a wave of guilt, hurt, and resentment came crashing out of a dam he tried so desperately to hold back. His eyes were now red and irritated with tears threatening to spill. It was as if his knees had a mind of their own and felt the need to give out, and before he came crashing down, you were there to hold him and gently place yourselves on the carpeted ground. You cradled him, caressed him, gently whispered comforting nothings in his ear—anything and everything to ensure he was alright and safe.

“I-I never meant to hurt you, angel,” he croaked out through his sobs. You shook your head, almost on the verge of tears yourself.

“You can never truly hurt me, Ben; who did this to you? Was it the woman? What did she do?” you questioned wholeheartedly. Benedict cleared his throat while lifting his head to meet your eyes, your slight nod encouraging him to release the burden that had been locked up within his soul for the past week.

“She…She touched me.”

“Touched you?” you repeated, knowing exactly what he implied. You couldn’t bear the culpability to engross your body. You selfishly thought, though very little, that whatever was going on between him and the muse was…intimate, but in true reality, your husband had been assaulted. Your hold on Ben tightened, silently apologizing to his heart over and over again.

“I tried to tell her to stop…I tried to yell, scream, shout ‘stop,’ but every time the word formed in my mouth, it…it melted. I was scared, only thinking about how you would feel if I,” he paused, “if I told you what she tried to do to me. My mother knocked on the door before anything further happened, and I never felt more grateful in my entire life.” You speechlessly cradled your hands on either side of his face, connecting your heads as one.

“Don’t ever be afraid to come to me when you need help, my heart,” you soothed. “I’m sorry for trying to touch you, and I respect it if you would like more space. I’ll find a guest chamber tonight if I have to,” you said before releasing your hold from Benedict, though he grabbed one of your hands and rested it on top of his.

“There's no need. I think I’m alright now, a little jittery but okay. I need you by my side more than ever now.”

“And I’ll be there every step, Ben.” Your smile slowly turned down at the thought of that imbecile of a woman. “I will kill her even if the whole ton watches. Fuck society, fuck Whistledown,” you seethed. Benedict breathed out a chuckle at your antics.

“Though I would have loved to see that, it’s already dealt with.” You ‘awed’ in partial defeat, making your husband laugh more.

“I love you, Benedict. Never forget that,” you demanded sincerely with every nerve and fiber in your body.

“I love you. Never forget it either.”

Authors note: Hey guys! This is my very first complete oneshot and I’m pretty proud of it. It might have some flaws in there but hopefully, I can learn about them and get better. Please tell me if there are any errors or actions that don’t align with the character's personalities and I’ll fix them as soon as possible! Thank you!

Ps, I don’t really know Benedict’s feelings when sad/hurt since he’s kind of a genuine, playful, and overall comfort character in the show so hopefully I got that down but like I said please let me know if anything’s wrong with the short story!!