#Is this qualified as hurt/comfort or just hurt?

[enderlovez]

can you write Spencer Reid and his secret girlfriend that's a nurse/doctor, when the team comes back from a mission and reid is injured they all go to the hospital and they see them two flirting and figure it out

(sorry idk how to phrase it)

also can you tag me when it's out?

Kiss It Better

Spencer Reid x Nurse Reader

WORD COUNT: 1000+

Summary: Spencer gets injured on a case. Imagine his team's surprise when they come to see him and find his nurse flirting with him.

Content Warning: hospitals, Spencer got hurt on a case, probably a whole lot of medical inaccuracies, stitches and needles

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Spencer sits on the edge of the hospital bed, his button-up shirt and cardigan draped over the back of a chair, leaving his undershirt rolled up past his elbow. His thighs are parted so you can stand between them, cleaning the small gash on his arm, your gloved fingers brushing over his skin with the gentlest touch.

"You know," you begin, your tone lightly teasing, "for someone with your IQ, you're really bad at stay out of trouble."

Spencer chuckles softly, though his ears turn a shade of pink. "It's not exactly something I plan for," he defends quietly, good arm wrapped loosely around your waist. "Besides, statistically, my injury rate is relatively low for the kind of work I do."

You glance up at him, a brow raised. "Spencer, you've been here three times in the last two months. At this rate, I should really just set up a reserved bed for you."

"Maybe I just like the company," he quips, and now it's your turn to blush slightly.

"Flirting isn't gonna get you out of a lecture about taking better care of yourself," you reply, tying off the final stitch and cutting the rest of the thread off. "There we are. Good as new."

Spencer watches as you peel off your gloves and toss them into the bin. Everything you do seems to catch him off guard, even after months of... well, whatever this thing between you two has become.

"You're amazing, you know that?" he murmurs.

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "I just stitched up a cut. Pretty sure that doesn't qualify as amazing."

"To me, it does," he counters, his gaze soft as he watches you walk around the room. "You're brilliant and kind and—"

"—And wondering why you're still sitting here," you cut him off with a grin, moving back to your previous spot between his thighs and holding the back of your hand to his forehead. "Don't you have a team to get back to?"

As if on cue, the door swings open, and a group of people spills into the room, their voices a mix of concern and exhaustion.

"Reid, how's—" a man with a shaved head starts, but immediately stops again, his eyes narrowing slightly as they dart between the two of you.

The room grown awkwardly silent as they take in the scene: you standing between Spencer's legs—closer than any medical professional should be with their patients, his unbandaged arm hung loosely around your waist.

"Oh," says a woman with dark hair and a wicked smirk. "This is interesting."

Spencer shifts uncomfortable but doesn't quite move away. "Guys, this is—uh—this is Doctor L/N. She was just... patching me up."

"Patching you up, huh?" the man from before drawls, a teasing lilt in his voice, his grin widening. "Looks like a little more than that to me."

You straighten and take a step back, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the heat crawling up your neck. "Doctor Reid is in good shape now. He'll need to keep the stitches dry for a few days, but the cut wasn't too deep."

The blonde woman in the back raises an eyebrow, clearly biting back a smile. "Thank you, Doctor L/N," she says politely before her attention shifts to Spencer. "Though I have to admit, considering his arm got cut open, this is the first time we've seen him quite so... comfortable."

Spencer groans, his head falling slightly forward. "Can we not do this here? Please?"

"Oh, we're doing this," the dark-haired woman says, crossing her arms. "How long has this been going on?"

"Emily," Spencer pleads, his voice laced with something somewhere in-between exasperation and resignation.

You glance between then, suddenly feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. "I'll just—uh—leave you all to it," you say quickly, stepping toward the door.

Spencer's hand shoots out, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment. "Wait—"

But you shake your head with a small, reassuring smile. "It seems you've got enough explaining to do without me making it harder."

As you slip out and shut the door, you hear the inevitable teasing start.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The hallways is surprisingly quiet compared to the chaos inside, and you take a moment to collect yourself. You've grown used to Spencer's shy smiles and occasional compliments, but seeing him surrounded by his team—people who clearly adore him and who are incredibly perceptive—feels like stepping into a spotlight you hadn't anticipated.

You're about to head back to the nurses' station when the door opens again, and Spencer emerges, wearing all his clothes and his cheeks still faintly red.

"They're never going to let this go," he says, running a hand through his hair.

You bite back a laugh. "I can see why. You should've warned me they'd be so observant."

"I was trying to keep things simple," he admits, stepping closer, "but apparently, we weren't as subtle as I thought."

"Subtle?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically glowing in there, Spencer! You were quite literally holding onto me."

He grins sheepishly. "I can't help it. You make me happy. I like being close to you."

Your heart does a little flip at his words, but you roll your eyes for his benefit. "Well, now that they know, I'm sure the rest of your team will, so I guess our secret's out."

"They'll adjust to the idea," he says lightly. "And for what it's worth, I don't mind them knowing. I'm proud to be with you."

You smile, reaching out to brush your fingertips against his. "I'm proud to be with you, too. Even if it means getting interrogated by the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Spencer laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "They'll get over it. Probably."

"Probably?" you echo, laughing with him as you start walking back to the nurses' station.

He shrugs, his hand brushing against yours as he keeps pace. "I think Morgan might take longer. But that's okay. I'm not in any hurry."

@priv-rose

[voidsturn]

title: no. 1 party anthem

pairing: stranger!chris x stranger!fem!reader

plot: while suffering with the consequences of unprocessed hurt and loneliness and self-hatred, chris is forced to yet another party. he finds himself in a conversation with someone new, which proves to be weird, comfortable, stupid and real.

type: fluff (maybe hurt/comfort), strangers au, close proximity, open ending

warnings: this fic does touch on some sensitive topics but i’m not sure it qualifies as angst. mentions of anxiety attacks, alcohol, smoking/vaping and sex

author’s note: ahhh my first fic on this blog! i’m extremely excited and nervous cuz it’s somewhat longer than i expected but oh fuck. yes, i know this song isn’t actually a happy love song but i just couldn’t bring myself to give them an unfortunate ending. i might in the future but i didn’t want my first fic here to be completely angst (there will be in the future tho, no worries about that) for now, i really do hope you like this!

chris - orange | the girl - pink | nick - purple | matt - blue

“chris, are you making your goddamn piss in there?!” screamed nick, while almost breaking down the bathroom door. he was getting on chris’ nerves, probably more than the thumping bass of some party song or the loud moans of some hookup next door. he was still breathing weirdly but told nick to just leave him alone. nick shortly after, gave up and ran towards the dance floor once he heard the first few beats of some charli xcx song.

while getting out of the bathroom, chris got stopped in his tracks. it was some idiot who couldn’t hold his fucking liquor better than a toddler. he was on the verge of punching that same idiot in the face. “jeez, can you walk like a normal human you fucking moron?” chris realised the asshole spilled some of the disgusting drink on his previously crisp white shirt. he couldn’t believe the theme of this party was ‘classy’. in a matter of thirty minutes, chris almost had an anxiety attack, was caught squatting in the bathroom by his own brother, heard some really unfortunate noises next door, and got his only formal shirt ruined.

chris was stuck replaying the last few moments in his head when the drunk idiot dodged chris and basically threw himself into chris’ safe space - the last empty bathroom. muttering a string of curse words, chris decided to give up on this ‘stupid fucking party’. he thought, or was hoping, that at least matt might be having a bad time as well. in a borderline ritualistic way.

once he saw some familiar faces, chris interrupted a discussion about pokémon between matt and sam. “chris, is it okay if we leave in an hour? i’m finally having a nice time at a party”. matt just said the words he thought would never leave his mouth. sam and colby along with matt tried to calm down the clearly uneasy chris. all he wanted was some fucking peace. chris was getting so goddamn overstimulated, he was fully ready to accept the jail time of a few murders. he wasn’t ready to take an uber either so he just basically ran towards tara after colby told him where she was.

while walking towards tara, chris was so fucking done. doomed actually to be at this party. the big hall felt endless with the maze of sweaty, icky bodies of completely wasted people on the dance floor. this, coupled with the strobing led lights and almost deafening party playlist, proved to be the final boss of overstimulation for chris. he finally reached tara, who was hosting the ‘stupid fucking party’. tara immediately knew chris wasn’t feeling good once he started to frantically ask if there was someplace less chaotic. she said that there’s a rooftop where she saw people go for a smoke.

tara made it seem like the rooftop was a chimney when in reality, there were only three other people. two of them were on their phones, editing pictures taken hours ago, occasionally taking a hit of something bubblegum flavoured. the third was looking at the city skyline. the rooftop was dimly lit with a few fake lamps, streamers and rogue balloons from the loud party downstairs. it was pretty small in size so chris was basically forced to go near the third girl. she had on a sparkly dress. her hair was up in a ponytail with bangs. chris thought she looked pretty but was in no mood to chit-chat cause the environment still reeked of alcohol, pretend and bubblegum. the alcohol smell was probably cause of his ruined shirt. chris walked towards the edge of the rooftop and leaned against the edge, slyly looking for a ‘fucking place to sit’.

he questioned why he was feeling way more sad than at the previous parties he had been forced to. sad wasn’t the word. more like left out. numb… lost even. yeah, his brothers and friends were all present downstairs, having the time of their fucking lives. but why couldn’t he? maybe he wasn’t in a good place mentally. he hated himself and his fucked up predicament for that while the others were just living it up, talking to other excited strangers, dancing, enjoying the ‘stupid fucking party’.

thoughts of self hate started their inevitable projections onto others. in a weird way chris felt almost betrayed. he hated coming across as a complainer but on the way to the party, matt was quick to say shit like leaving in half an hour, while nick was ranting about hoping tara didn’t invite the same morons from two weeks ago. all that bitching and moaning and praying and hating and now nick’s probably dancing his heart out to some ariana grande remix while matt’s chatting with people about fucking pokémon. just pokémon actually, that was phrased really weird.

it wasn’t always like this. all three of them were supposed to be in LA for business and pretend to like this. but at this point, nick and matt were getting a bit too good at pretending and chris just wasn’t. hence the shocking betrayal. now chris knows that entire cycle of thoughts started okay and just spiralled. completely outta his hands. now, he hates that he thinks like this about his two favourite humans in the world. thus began the voices in his head.

“you’re such a loser, useless without your brothers, and still you’re thinkin’ shit like this. fucking pathetic. don’t even have a fucking driver’s license? scared of having a girlfriend? again, you’re fucking pathetic. stop crying and whining and complaining like a stupid baby and suck it up for the love of-”

chris was quick to pull out his nearly dead phone and hence began his doom-scroll during moments like this. he wanted to avoid this shit, at least till he was in the comfort of his own bedroom. he heard the ‘sparkly’ girl behind him muttering and breathing? if anything, he thought she was staring at him cause of the two burning holes he felt at the back of his head. ugh, the one time he doesn’t have a hat or beanie on. he hoped ‘taylor swift doppelgänger’ took the hint that he wanted to be left to his own goddamn devices.

she didn’t. of course she didn’t cause that’s just who she is.

“you should sit down. that glass railing isn’t as strong as it seems. wouldn’t wanna witness a-”

“i got it, thanks” snapped chris as he finally made eye contact with the girl. she had wide eyes, really big hoops and glitter on her face. her dress resembled a disco-ball.

“fine by me, more room on this… floor” chris let out a soft chuckle. can you blame him, he needed it. well to her, it sounded more like a scoff. “sorry, things are just harder to process tonight and i don’t know why” chris didn’t know why the girl was saying things that someone closer to her should hear. ‘maybe she’s drunk’ he thought, while thinking of something weird to ask so she’d go away.

“are you a disco-ball? i’m asking this to see how shit-faced you might be”

“i’m not a disco-ball, i’m a mirrorball… see that’s funny because they’re the same goddamn thing. and, this isn’t a fucking halloween party. and no, i’m not drunk, i’m pissed”

“oooh mirrorball’s got some lip on her huh?” shock wasn’t the word chris could use anymore. more like glad. glad that he wasn’t the only one pissed, again, in a borderline psychotic way. nick had tara to dance with, matt had sam to catch pokémon with. maybe chris could just talk to this girl. it wasn’t completely unrealistic, right?

he walked towards where she was sitting. getting comfortable on hardwood floor was no joke but once he saw her gratefully smile at him for a change, it was weirdly comfortable. she began talking yet again. “any good shows you’ve been watching?” wasn’t the question chris thought he’d be asked. maybe his name or something, but decided to roll with it. “nah, more of a music guy. matt’s the crazy binge-watcher”

“excuse me, more like matt’s the fun one. and yes, i took that personally cause i love shows” the girl was fully ready to defend her slightly insane ways to finish a series. “okay, well i love breaking bad, what about you?”

the girl shook her head “sadly, breaking bad is currently rotting on my watchlist but hey, you’re motivation to finally start it” chris was still hoping for something in common between them. not in a romantic way, of course but it did make talking to a complete stranger easier.

“so what about music?” the girl’s eyes lit up when she said taylor swift. chris was quick to speak. “okay but i don’t get why she’s so popular music wise? she’s cool don’t get me wrong, but-”

“because… she makes us feel seen dude” the girl continued. “the fact that someone as awesome as her can go through some of the same shit as me, makes me feel validated… seen. but then again, i won’t try to make you like something if you just don’t wanna. i do fuck with r&b and rap though if that’s what you listen to”

hoping this is the overlap between them chris asks “you heard of lil skies?” “i have, but i’m a local. more on the chill rap scene”

“so you like drake don’t you?” “say what you want but the guy’s got some hidden gems and his old stuff’s pretty awesome” chris couldn’t agree more. “totally get it, matt and i used to always jam out to the motto and she will-” “is matt your brother?” chris is in disbelief. egotistic disbelief but still. he widens his bright blue eyes. “oh my god, you have no idea who i am don’t you?”

the girl shakes her head “i mean i don’t know which one you are? are you one of those who refers to themselves in third person?” “please say something other than that. you’re making me feel like an idiotic species with that sentence. see now that’s funny cause that’s pretty weird of you-”

“i got it, thanks” the two couldn’t help but laugh. chris was feeling light and it was all thanks to this ‘mirrorball’ he found. he thought he could ask why she was previously pissed, hoping she didn’t take it the wrong way.

“oh i saw my drunk ex downstairs. he said some really weird shit and i got super mad at him and almost punched that bitch in the face” chris let out a wheeze which was promptly stopped by the girl’s pissed face. he couldn’t relate to her, yet he tried to understand. “how did it end?”

“whoa. you just made a taylor swift reference! you’re learning. see that’s funny cause-” “not funny dude. and you’re dodging the question so i’m sorry i asked” chris knew he overstepped the pretty thick boundary with someone he met only twenty minutes ago. after a long sigh, the girl began her explanation. “i just lost feelings. and it sucks cause i didn’t wanna string him along. downstairs he made me feel like i was a monster”

chris completely respected her decision. “you aren’t. you’re already better than people who choose to cheat. how long was it?” he thought people like that are very rare to come by. “barely two months? i don’t really remember but thanks for saying that whole thing” the girl smiled and felt understood. she added. “i tried, but my commitment issues kinda got in the way” chris knew all about that. he really did. even though he was curious, he wasn’t sure if he should go any further. something between the two had changed. one could hear a spark of lighting a firework in the silence, that kinda silence. not the awkward kind at all. peaceful and understood, yet troubled by the past.

both were left thinking about what could’ve been if they didn’t just push people away. maybe chris would’ve had a girlfriend, or an ex by now. maybe she would’ve still been in that relationship. unfortunately, the need to be free and invulnerable overpowered the two’s want of romantic love.

the girl was first to break the silence. “i love how i just said that to you, yet i don’t even know your name”

“the name’s chris” she hummed “name matches the looks”

chris had an involuntary red tint spread across his face while he widened his eyes. “did you just say i literally look like a chris?” “yeah basically” said the girl as if he asked her the dumbest question of the week. maybe of the month. chris agreed and continued, “hmm yeah, we did just trauma bond, yet we met barely an hour ago”

the girl was taken aback. “excuse me, trauma bond where? you still haven’t told me why you’re sad.” chris thought the hard part of finding someone was over. maybe just saying this to a complete stranger was harder. ‘fuck it’ he thought.

“look, i can’t even begin to think why cause every time i do, i ignore it cause i just don’t wanna get into it, and it all just builds up-” chris stopped himself but the girl nodded, showing that it’s okay and safe for him to go on.

“i know i should be happy. i’m young, healthy, well-off… but i feel so lonely, now more than ever. i blame my brothers for finally finding fame and LA actually okay and i know i’m such an asshole for saying that. y’know every single time some fan asks, ‘oh who’s least likely to live without his brothers or who’s least likely to be in a relationship’ they always instantly say it’s me. and i get it. i’ve built an image like that and yes it’s partially my fault but it still hurts. it’s like… people just expect me to be attached at the fucking hip to my brothers, and scared of women. i’m still definitely not ready for a relationship, but when someone says something like that again and again, it fucking pisses me off even more. in a way, it just stops me from pursuing anything cause everyone just always has something to say, and i just can’t help focusing on the bad shit. now i’m here, troubling you. someone i’ve known for two fucking seconds with my shit. i just really fucking hate it”

the girl took in all of his words and hurt and inhaled sharply before she spoke. “it’s okay to feel that way. the whole thing about you just blurting this out is valid. sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than a loved one because they don’t know anything about you. and i’m weirdly proud that you said all that. it takes real guts”

chris felt the way he thought the girl feels when listening to taylor swift. seen. the girl continued. “and at the end of the day, you’re not gonna fucking end up cranky, sad and alone. as long as you have hope, faith and most importantly, love. not only for others, but really for yourself. if you feel hurt, you’ll hurt others and push them away. so it’s best to take care of yourself first, try to find a way you can open up to people closest to you. then you can definitely find whatever it is you’re looking for” chris didn’t take her words lightly and knew they were gonna be stuck in his head, regardless of his shitty memory.

he resumed the quip-off, feeling much better after letting all that out, and not being blindly judged for it. “so, we’re even now right?” the girl just knowingly smiled and chris couldn’t put a finger on why he just really liked a smile on her face. “y’know, i got all that from a taylor swift song”

“no fucking way. taylor’s songs give you wisdom?” the girl nodded but was quick to add. “more than wisdom, it’s clarity. and advice. honestly, she’s like the older sister i never had” chris wondered which song and as if the girl read his goddamn mind she answered, “well, it’s actually a combination of three songs. one’s the archer by taylor swift, the other’s escape from la by the weeknd-”

“did not think you fuck with him as well. they’re so different from each other” chris says while the girl just blinks. chris immediately apologises. “sorry, i have a habit of interrupting my brothers. my brain’s just really fucking weird and fast”

letting out a chuckle she says, “nah its all good chris. i can personally relate to that” to ensure he didn’t commit a fucking crime. chris lets out a sigh of relief while pulling out his phone, opening apple music in the process. “what’s the third song?”

as if right on cue, the five percent battery warning invades his screen. “ah fuck, phone’s almost dead” his panic continues. “i hate to say this but i have to go. otherwise my brothers will think i left already and my phone will be dead by the time i can call-” “it’s okay chris, go. i’m not mad at all”

chris hurriedly tries to find an outlet on the rooftop but there aren’t any. even the other two people who were previously there are gone, leaving their trace behind with the sweet smell of bubblegum. the girl’s eyes kept following chris, who was spastically still searching for a goddamn power bank or something. anything. “i’m pretty sure there’s no chargers here”

he turned his head towards her so quick, whiplash never felt more real. “okay then tell me your number, your name. anything” he was so out of breath from running around like a hooligan. yet, chris was determined to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating that entire conversation. the girl smiled yet again. ‘that damn smile’ he thought. “i hope you’re coming to jake’s party next weekend. i’ll be there”

chris really liked that answer. of course he did. he liked the chase and was finally excited to come to the next party. his phone started buzzing, messages from the triplet’s group chat appeared on his lock screen asking chris’ whereabouts. they were dying to leave but he wasn’t. he bid his ‘mirrorball’ goodbye and started to run down the stairs. just before chris could go he asked. actually… screamed.

“what was the third song!”

the girl turned around and screamed back the third songs name.

she blushed and looked away while chris’ signature grin took over his features. he saw the rooftop one last time. the battery on the phone was low but his spirits were high. he somehow managed to take a really shitty picture of that very ‘shiny’ rooftop.

the downstairs scene still felt like a thick and claustrophobic fog of pretend, but chris knew that if he really wanted to, he could find something real and grounded.

in their car, the triplets like after every ‘stupid fucking party’, talked about their individual experiences. nick as always began. “tara really needs to invite better people cause what the fuck. why’d they all look so judgy when i told them my favourite genre’s pop? after that whenever i tried to talk to them they’d just ignore me, like a bunch of goddamn high status judgmental uglies. like hello?! the music was loud but you’re not fucking deaf!”

“nick, i thought at least you were having a nice time. sam and colby had to leave five minutes after chris asked me to leave. honestly can’t believe i’m saying this but i should’ve listened to the kid. after that, i locked myself in one of the bathrooms and fucking played cheese escape. that’s right.. CHEESE ESCAPE. chris, where the fuck were you?”

before nick could answer, he saw the slight red tint on chris’ face as a cheeky grin was plastered his face. “oh my god, did you fucking hook up with someone?” the shock value was a bit too high for both matt and chris. the car slightly wobbled on the road. “no you fucking idiot i didn’t. i just went to the rooftop after tara told me it’s quiet up there and just scrolled on my phone. that’s why my phone was dead”

“well since you could’ve called me, i say bullshit. but it’s fine. i won’t ask further” said matt as he partially believed his story. nick was weirdly proud that chris finally talked to someone he didn’t know at a party, all by himself.

after a short thirty seconds of quiet, chris started blabbering about playing a song before he forgot the name. “oh my god, stop saying the fucking name of the song and just play it you brain-dead moron” scolded nick cause kid was morphing into a monkey while matt was on a highway.

chris finally opened apple music on his currently charging phone. he started played a song called, ‘no. 1 party anthem’.

[ravendruid]

Vaxleth + Sleepy Prompt #16

Let’s face it: they’re both afraid to sleep because of nightmares. Vax especially.

Just a warning for this drabble: it contains a dream sequence in which Keyleth has a lot of self-doubt and guilty feelings. 16. “Are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re gonna have a nightmare?”

Keyleth tossed and turned in bed, kicking back the covers when she felt too warm, then pulling them up when the cold bit her skin. After what seemed like hours, she finally felt herself drift off, only to be awakened by a sudden jerk of her body.

She sat up with her back against the headboard and her heart racing in her chest after feeling like she was about to fall from a great height. She felt a body stir next to her, and a warm, calloused hand rested on her thigh. 

“Are you okay?” Vax’s sleepy voice asked in a whisper. Keyleth nodded, willing her tears down with a knot in her throat. “Are you sure?” Vax didn’t buy her lie. Of course, he wouldn’t.

“I can’t sleep. I’m… I’m scared, Vax,” she let herself cry, pulling her knees to her chest. Vax sat up next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. 

“Are you afraid to fall asleep because you think you’re gonna have a nightmare?”

Keyleth nodded again. She had been having a recurring nightmare the past week, and Vax had been woken to her screaming or crying several times. 

“I can’t do it, Vax. I can’t go to sleep and dream about it again.” She sobbed into his shoulder.

—

Standing under the cherry tree that centered Zephrah was a family of half-elves. The mom had long curly red hair and was well-equipped with all sorts of traveling gear, and the father, a tall man with long hair, held a little girl on his hip, whose hair was so red it seemed like she had been kissed by flames.  

Keyleth held on to her father, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t understand why her mom was leaving, she was scared and sad, but most of all, she felt it was her fault. Maybe if Keyleth behaved better, if she had eaten all her veggies and paid attention in class, her mom wouldn’t be leaving her.

The scene changed, and a teenage Keyleth sat under the cherry tree, crying by herself. It had been a decade since she last heard about her mother, and while she understood why Vilya had left, she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t returned yet. Maybe her mom didn’t love her enough, or maybe Keyleth wasn’t good enough a reason for her mother to return.

Another change. This time, Keyleth saw herself and her father under the cherry tree, wearing her mother’s old leather armor and staff. Korrin reminded her of her obligations, what she was setting out to do – her Aramenté – and how much was at stake. As Keyleth crossed the portal her father opened on the trunk, she felt like she was thrown out into the wild and wasn’t ready for it – even though she had years of training.

The dream changed again, and Keyelth saw herself surrounded by fire and screams. Her friends were laying on the ground next to her, and she saw their faces, one by one, and the pain they were in as they were engulfed by flames. She led them to this hell. It was her fault.

One last change, faster and more sudden, hitting her like a punch in the gut, and Keyleth saw Vax in the tentacles of the Kraken, the air leaving his lungs as he drowned, while Keyleth did nothing but watch in fear. She did this. She killed him, the one she loved the most. Just like her mother, she led her friends to their death, and she was next. She failed again and again and again.

—

“Keyleth, it’s just a dream. I’m right here.” Vax rested her hand on his beating heart.

“You died.” She sobbed again. “And it was my fault.”

“No, Kiki. I live because of you. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t saved me. I’m real. This is real, not your dream. You did not fail anyone, and you did not disappoint anyone. You are more than enough! Fuck! If someone isn’t enough, it’s me! I don’t deserve you, Keeks.”

Keyleth let out a wet chuckle of disbelief. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true,” Vax pulled her away from him and kissed the tears in the corner of one eye. “You are strong,” he followed the path of her tears down to her cheek. “You are amazing,” he kissed the corner of the other eye. “You are fierce,” he pressed soft, tender kisses down her other cheek. “And most of all, you are more than enough.” He finished with a long, deep kiss on her lips. 

Keyleth felt warmth rush through her body as if Vax had just cast a healing spell, and she leaned into him. She knew her doubts emerged from exhaustion, from not having rested all week, and she knew she would feel like an idiot the tomorrow for even thinking that way.

“Ready to try to get some sleep?” Vax asked, laying down and bringing her with him. Keyleth nodded and nuzzled against his neck, feeling his soft and warm breath atop her head. 

“Thank you, Vax,” she sighed. “I love you.”

“I will always love you, Kiki.”

[tin-can-iron-man]

I'm just gonna say it again real quick:

Yes!! Iron Man is a tragedy! It has and always has been since the very first appearance in 1963 which describes itself, Tony's life, and legacy, as such.

Tony causes most of his issues himself, he is his biggest villain, a majority of his rogues gallery are caricatures of the worst versions of himself brought to life (when they're not just being racist cuz...60s...). The worst thing about being Tony Stark is that he can't stop being Tony Stark (he tried!!) That is the point.

The majority of pain Tony goes through, is pain he inflicts on himself, whether intentionally or inadvertently. That is the point.

He is not A villain (at least. Not usually. There are...some rough moments and arcs that are. Not great. As there is with any character as old as he is). But he is his own main antagonist.

[just-rogi]

im so fucking tired of going to the doctors. i cant keep up. every week its a new test or a new lab or a new specialist. i'm just exhausted. i have to go in for blood work AGAIN- this is the fourth time since april. its expensive, and time consuming, and honestly? im tired. im just tired. all the fucking time im tired of the lack of answers, and the phone calls in the middle of the day, and crying at work in front of my students, and opening my email to new lab results every other day. IM TIRED OF IT!!! im not even afraid of hospitals or needles i never have been, even as a kid, but i couldnt stop crying last time i got bloodwork. ive never been upset by bloodwork before what the fuck. last week i had an ultrasound of my liver and i got a call in the middle of the work day today that i need to get a BONE SCAN?? are you kidding me?? im scared. and im tired. and im angry. and i dont want to do any of this. i just want to cry and isolate myself and go to bed and not see anyone ever but i cant fucking do that because i have to go get injected with radioactive contrast material and wait four hours so they can see what is wrong with my bone enzymes.

[thenon-fictiondays]

ok so i got super fucking depressed and started reading the kagihira manga to make myself less depressed and kagi blowing their team's tournament qualifier is lowkey cheering me up bc i know just how miserable we're about to see him and somehow that's making me less miserable about my own misery

so uh where do i fall on the bdsm scale 😅

[thepeacefulgarden]

And remember, they don't have to hit you in order to qualify as an abuser. Do they...

Say mean and/or creepy things and then try to walk it back as "just a joke?"

Tell you that you're "too sensitive" when you call out their words or behavior?

Use the Bible, the Quran, the Torah, the Vedas, or any other religious text to justify mistreating you?

Treat you badly, apologize, promise never to do it again, and proceed to do it again?

Try to control where you go, how you dress, who you see and talk to, what and how much you eat, etc.?

Snoop through your phone, emails, belongings, or other private stuff without your OK? Or manipulate you into "letting" them do so?

Track your menstrual cycle (if you have one) without your OK? Or manipulate you into "letting" them do so?

Try to make you keep a pregnancy you don't want (or terminate one you do)? Or try to dictate what (if any) birth control you use?

Threaten to hurt themselves or other people if you leave, or "step out of line?"

Break or throw things when they're upset?

Punch holes in walls, doors, etc.?

Make you (or try to make you) engage in sexual acts you don't enjoy, don't feel ready for, don't feel comfortable with, or just plain aren't in the mood for?

Try to make you feel like a bad person for saying "no" to sex?

Try to distance you from your friends and family?

Actively try to turn your friends and family against you? Or you against them?

Get mad when you say no or try to set a boundary?

Call you degrading names?

Use your insecurities against you?

"Neg" or "should" you into conforming to their preferences?

Try to get you to quit your job, or get you fired?

Use drugs, alcohol, a bad day at work, or whatever their deal is as an excuse for their behavior? If so, you need to get out. Now. Make a plan. I promise, it doesn't get better as long as you are in this relationship. You cannot love the red flags out of people. Even if they don't hit you now, there's a good chance they'll start sooner or later; abuse has a nasty tendency to escalate.

[mythicalcoolkid]

I love the "glasses are disability" thing because it applies to basically every complaint abled people have about disability

"You're not even that bad, why would you get that?" Have you ever used a magnifying glass for small details or zoomed in on a picture

"Why do you have that accommodation TODAY?" Why do you wear reading glasses when you're reading

"It seems like your 'needs' are inconsistent." Yeah and you wear sunglasses when it's sunny and not all the time

"But you can technically walk without that." Yeah and if I put the page really close to your face you could read it, it would just hurt and be hugely impractical, inconvenient, and limiting

"But you COULD go without it all the time, you don't NEED it to live." And maybe you could technically see without your glasses, doesn't mean it's comfortable or practical day to day

"If you REALLY had a hard time seeing you would have glasses." Have you ever known someone who couldn't afford a new pair of glasses? Or eye appointments? Someone who needed vision therapy or special prism glasses? Someone whose vision only gets bad during migraines or seizures? Someone with astigmatism that glasses can't help? Someone who didn't qualify for LASIK?

"You only use it when you're out in public." Have you ever gotten up to use the bathroom at night without putting on your glasses

"Decorating it is just trying to get attention, and it's a medical device so stop glamorizing it." Do you hate any patterned or colorful glasses frames too? Art with characters who wear glasses? People who make OCs with glasses? Glasses chains, prescription sunglasses, aesthetic fake glasses with tinted lenses?

"There are secretly lots of people just using aids for fun and attention." There are secretly lots of people wearing fake glasses or colored contacts for fun and attention, it does not affect you

"We need to find fakers, they're stealing disabled resources!" Someone pretending to need glasses is "taking" a seat in the front from someone who might need it more. That sucks and they shouldn't do that. But I'm not going to scrutinize every person who wears glasses to see if I think they really need that seat. You personally are not the arbiter of who is (based on the random times you've seen them) secretly not disabled

"My friend has that and doesn't act like that." Does every pair of glasses in production, or even every pair close to your prescription, work for you? Is your vision identical to every other nearsighted person?

"If you can do X why can't you do Y? Some people with that can do Y."/"But if you have that how can you do X? People with that can't usually do X." Some people are nearsighted and some people are farsighted and some people are both. Some farsighted people can read some without glasses and some can't. And good distance vision doesn't mean you don't ever need glasses, it's just an entirely different reason you'd need glasses

"You're too young to need that." And there are young people who need bifocal lenses

"Why don't you use this DIFFERENT aid though, it would look like you didn't even have an aid." Why doesn't everyone in the world wear contacts

"Why can't I/my friend/my kid play with it?" Do you let random strangers and children try on your glasses at the grocery store

"I was just trying to help, I thought you'd need a push/you were in the way." Are you cool with me suddenly pulling your glasses off your face to clean them, or because the glare was distracting me

"You'll eventually stop using it though right?" Are you planning on no longer needing glasses someday

Disabled people are free to add

I am aware this is not a 1-to-1 perfectly accurate post. Do not come into the notes trying to "um actually this isn't a perfect comparison." I know. Just don't

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 6

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe

The car ride is the worst of your life. 

Neither of you speak. 

And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything. 

Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue. 

Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again. 

When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on. 

For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away. 

“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes. 

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted. 

Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart. 

But you never claimed to be strong.

Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.

“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”

Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands. 

The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry. 

For not loving you?

If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?

But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces. 

As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied. 

“I don’t understand you.”

The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears. 

“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed. 

“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding. 

He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for. 

“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”

A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath. 

His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond. 

“Love you back?”

You blink. 

Your stomach drops. 

For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself. 

What a way to make an exit from your relationship. 

Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something. 

What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know. 

“I didn’t…”

“You didn’t mean it.”

The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp. 

“That’s not what I was—”

“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”

It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions. 

“Spencer…”

It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable. 

He swallows. 

“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”

For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.

“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”

“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”

And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice. 

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”

You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her. 

“Wait.”

He says your name.  

And of course you pause. 

You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle. 

“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?” 

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again. 

The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring. 

“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”

You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about. 

Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break. 

“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”

Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly. 

“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

You blink. 

And for some reason, begin sobbing. 

Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in. 

“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

You take a shuddering breath. 

“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”

Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper. 

You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty. 

“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”

“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”

You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly. 

“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”

His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel.  Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this. 

“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes.  “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”

Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft. 

“How could I not be so in love with you?” 

Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold. 

“Really?”

“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”

The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw. 

When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat. 

“Too honest?”

You shake your head as if in a fog. 

“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”

He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone. 

“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”

“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder. 

“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”

There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up. 

“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”

He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning. 

“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”

You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him. 

Spencer kisses you on the cheek. 

“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”

As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is. 

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room. 

“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on. 

“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand. 

“Ambience over everything, baby.”

His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other. 

“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”

You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy. 

Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.

He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this. 

“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets. 

“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”

He knows he hasn’t.

“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”

Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC. 

“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”

“I missed you too,” you admit softly. 

He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes. 

Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck. 

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs. 

Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.

His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut. 

Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon. 

And he’s laughing. 

“What were you drinking?”

You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.

“Water.”

“Before that, baby. At the bar.”

You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall. 

“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”

Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige. 

Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all. 

“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip. 

“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face. 

It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same. 

“Love you.”

He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own. 

“I love you.”

It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips. 

A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately. 

Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first. 

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology. 

“For what?”

The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly. 

“For what I said at the bar.”

Oh.

That.

It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth. 

You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you. 

At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth. 

“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”

Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak. 

“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”

“It is not. I made you cry.”

Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him. 

“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”

You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back. 

“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”

You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly. 

“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too. 

But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight. 

“You know what you could do right now?”

The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would. 

“What’s that?”

You smile slyly. 

“You could kiss me again.”

“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”

“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours. 

“I thought I was already forgiven.”

“Apologies can be retracted.”

“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel. 

As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks. 

Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee. 

Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now. 

But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy. 

“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.

He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming. 

“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”

Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him. 

“Playing nice?”

“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”

Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his. 

“According to who?”

His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?

“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”

You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart. 

“What?”

“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”

You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall. 

“I think I’m in a great place.”

At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet. 

“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”

“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours. 

“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”

Reluctantly you nod. 

“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”

In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier. 

“Hey.” 

“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly. 

“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”

That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would. 

“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”

He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”

“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”

You turn back around, brows raised. 

“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”

“Uh-huh. Come here.”

Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case. 

But at the same time—everything’s different. 

And you won’t make the same mistake twice. 

“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face. 

“Hey what?”

“I remembered what I was gonna say.”

The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. 

“Tell me.”

“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”

“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”

It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.

“You already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”

And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all. 

“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top. 

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled. 

Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage. 

Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.

Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you. 

Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement. 

The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself. 

Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest. 

“Jesus, you—”

But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs. 

“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”

-

part seven

[pastryfication]

hi!!! can we get an ollie x reader, frustrated after he misses out on q3 in baku, and fully melts into his gfs arms when he’s out of the car. until someone from the team has to steer him away to the media pen

i guess that's the best i can do

pairing: ollie bearman x reader

note: i absolutely adore writing hurt/comfort so thank u for this request <33 i know it’s been over a month since u requested, and i’m so sorry for that, but i hope u still like it

the streets of baku were unforgiving that day, the tight corners and narrow straights biting harder than ollie had expected as he got into the car. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but missing out on q3—by just a fraction—hurt more than he wanted to admit.

he climbs out of the car quickly, his helmet still on, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. the moment he’s out of the cockpit, the frustration floods him. all those laps, the careful management, and it still wasn’t enough. he slams the steering wheel back in place a little harder than necessary, trying to keep the emotions from boiling over in front of the cameras. the pit crew is busy around him, preparing for the post-qualifying debrief, but all he can think about is how close he came.

he catches sight of you standing just outside of the garage, your face soft with understanding. it’s as if you know exactly how he’s feeling before he even reaches you. you offer a small smile, but ollie’s expression doesn’t budge. he pulls off his helmet and then his baclava, running a hand through his sweaty hair, before walking over to you, his shoulders heavy with disappointment.

as soon as he’s close enough, he drops his helmet onto the ground beside you and crashes into your arms without a word. his hands grip tightly onto your waist, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, as if all the tension and frustration can somehow seep out through the contact. for a long moment, he just stands there, holding on, and you can feel the shuddering breath he lets out.

you wrap your arms around him, holding him close, your hand gently stroking the back of his neck, offering silent comfort. his body, taut with frustration and anger just moments ago, begins to sag against yours, melting into your embrace. he’s letting it all go, just for a moment, here with you, where it’s safe to be vulnerable—where he can show his true emotions.

“you were absolutely brilliant out there,” you whisper softly into his ear, trying to sooth the storm brewing inside him. “so close, ollie. you fought so hard.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, his face still buried in the crook of your neck, his arms clinging to you as if he's afraid you'll disappear. you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, deep breaths as he tries to calm down, to find the words he wants to say. his grip on you tightens even further for a second, as if he needs to hold on to something stable, something real, before he can speak.

“i should’ve made it,” he mumbles, his voice thick with frustration. “i had the pace. i know i did.”

you keep stroking his hair, your other hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. “you’ll get them next time. this isn’t the end.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with emotion. “i just—” his voice cracks, and he shakes his head, trying to get the words out. “i wanted it so bad. i was right there.”

“i know,” you say softly, cupping his face in your hands. “i know, love. but this doesn’t change how incredible you are.”

for a moment, he just looks at you, the frustration still simmering beneath the surface but dulled by the warmth of your presence. you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his forehead, and he sighs again, his shoulders finally slumping in defeat—though not the kind of defeat that lingers, but the kind that comes with acceptance, with knowing he did all he could.

but before he can fully disappear into the comfort of your embrace, someone from the team approaches, clearing their throat. you both turn to see one of the pr managers, looking slightly awkward but aware of the time crunch. “ollie,” they say softly, not wanting to intrude too much. “we’ve got to get you to the media pen. they’re waiting.”

ollie groans quietly against your shoulder, his grip on you loosening as reality pulls him back. “right,” he mutters, clearly not thrilled about it.

he pulls back reluctantly, his hands still lingering on your waist for a second longer before he lets go completely. “i’ll be back soon,” he says, the words more for himself than for you, like a promise he’s making to get through this next part.

you offer him an encouraging smile, giving his hand a squeeze. “you’ve got this.”

he nods, though you can see he’s still carrying some of that disappointment with him. just before he walks away, he pauses, turning back to you. “thank you,” he whispers, his voice quiet but sincere. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“you don’t have to,” you reply, smiling softly as you reach up to caress his cheek adoringly. “i’ll always be here.”

with that, he smiles softly and leans down to give you a hurried kiss before finally allowing the team to steer him away, glancing back at you one last time before disappearing into the paddock. you watch him go, knowing that once he’s done with the media, you’ll be there waiting, ready to pull him back into your arms when he needs it most.

[lvstrucks]

breaks

lando norris x reader

Being a couple both of whose love languages were physical touch, you and Lando were no strangers to a bit of playfighting. Lando loved nothing more than to tackle you onto the soft surface of a sofa or bed and watch you squirm playfully, collapsing into a fit of giggles as you tried to take control of his strong form and make him do what you wanted. It was perhaps the only time Lando would allow his competitive side to slide, letting you pin him down and sit on his toned stomach in victory.

So it was nothing out of the ordinary when he leaned against the doorframe, watching you pad around the kitchen making dinner in one of his Quadrant t-shirts he felt a familiar burst of love begin to creep up his abdomen. It was a quiet Friday night before the Monaco Grand Prix, the both of you enjoying the comfort of being in your own apartment before what was sure to be a hectic weekend.

As soon as you put down the wooden spoon you'd been using to stir the dinner, he makes a beeline for you.

"Lovie," he half mumbles, half laughs into your shoulder as he scoops you off the floor.

"Lando!" you giggle, making a feeble attempt to shrug him off. "Stop, I'm making dinner," you protest, while really having no intention of making him stop.

Lando twists you around so he's holding you horizontally, gripping onto your waist and starts to spin you around so you can't reach to push him off.

"You just look so cuddly and cute dressed like that," he defends, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "Just wanna love my girl a little."

You both shriek with laughter as he begins to spin you even faster. Lando's certain that hearing you laugh like that because of him is one of the best feelings he's ever had. He feels like he might be flying a little, until your left arm flicks out with the force of being spun and the sound of a crack against the marble counter stops him in his tracks.

"Baby?" He asks uncertainly as he sets you gently on your feet.

"Ow." you blink back tears. "That hurt. But I'm fi-"

You cut yourself off as your hearing becomes muffled.

"Lan, I can't..." you put both hands up to your ears, pressing as if to try and restore your hearing. It comes flooding back, along with a throbbing pain in your wrist as it pushes against your head.

"Fuck, baby. Fuck!" Lando says, snapping into action. Not only is his girlfriend clearly hurt, she got hurt under his care, and it was his fault too.

He grabs a bag of frozen peas from the freezer, pulling you gently over to a chair at the dining table and sitting you down. He hands you the bag of peas, gesturing for you to rest your hurt hand on it.

"Did it...always bend that way?" He asks quietly, face going pale as you both assess the situation. The tears begin to fall as the full brunt of the pain begins to hit and Lando is quick to lead you downstairs, getting you buckled into his car and running around to the driver's seat. 

It takes a little while longer than normal to get to the emergency room, as lots of roads have been closed off in preparation for qualifying tomorrow, and Lando drums his fingers impatiently on the wheel.

"Not long, baby. We're gonna get you some help, and they can give you something to help the pain, ok? I'm right here with you." He tries to reassure you.

Good as his word, Lando doesn't leave your side once. He holds your hand whilst they set your fractured wrist back into place, gritting his teeth and keeping quiet as your nails dig into the calloused skin of his hands. He rubs your back softly as they wrap a pink (as requested) cast around.

You sleep on the way home, suddenly exhausted now the pain meds have kicked in. Lando watches you quietly each time he stops at a red light. He feels sick to his stomach as the red glare catches the streaks of dried tears on your cheeks.

Once back in your apartment, Lando carries you bridal style up to the bedroom. He undresses you quickly, taking care not to bump your wrist as he pulls one of his shirts over your head, one of the softer ones that you love to sleep in.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles into your hair as he wraps himself around you. "I'm so, so, sorry."

You shake your head softly, waking up a little.

"I know you are, Lando. It was an accident."

"But I promised I'd never do anything to hurt you, and I broke it. I broke you." He frets.

You lean up and press a kiss to his pouty lips.

"It was an accident, both of us were being silly. I'm not upset at you, just upset it happened. So please don't beat yourself up about it, okay?" you say and Lando nods solemnly, snuggling down so your head is laying on his chest. He strokes your hair softly and you breathe in his scent, closing your eyes.

"Does it hurt? A lot?" Lando asks quietly into the darkness.

"No." you lie.

Although you'd assured Lando you were fine in the morning, ready to come and support him during qualifying, you were quickly deteriorating as the day dragged on. You found yourself sinking into a cushioned seat in the McLaren hospitality, beginning to shiver as the ache from your wrist travels up your arm. Lando is busy preparing for qualifying, but Adam is talking to an engineer and notices his son's girlfriend fading into herself and walks over to check on you.

"Everything ok?," he questions you. "Should I get Lando for you? He gave strict orders to interrupt him at any time if you weren't feeling well."

"I just need my next painkillers, I think." you say, trying to smile in a way you hope is reassuring. "Do you know where they ended up? I didn't bring a bag so Lando had them in his pocket when we arrived."

Adam tells you he will go and hunt down your meds, but unsurprisingly Lando spots his dad looking around and excuses himself from talking to Zak in the garage and jogs over to the hospitality.

"Baby, are you OK?" He asks, wrapping you in a gentle hug. You sigh, sinking into his chest and allowing him to hold you up.

"It's just..it's really starting to hurt now." you say, and his heart sinks at the sight of your bottom lip beginning to wobble.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he says truthfully. "Do you want to go home and take a nap there? I can get someone to drive you now."

You shake your head stubbornly.

"I want to stay and see how you qualify. I just need some pain meds."

"They're in my driver's room with my clothes." He explains. "Do you want to come with me? I have that fold-down bed in there now, you can have a quick nap?"

You nod, allowing him to lead you into his room. Once there, he hands you your meds and then slips his comfy cable-knit sweater over your head to stop your shivering. He does his best to tuck you in all comfy, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll come and wake you up in about an hour or so, ok?"

As he shuts the door behind him, he hears a soft "Thank you, Lan." He blows you a kiss, heading back to the garage.

When Lando comes back to wake you up, he's met with a much happier looking Y/N. You sit up on the bed, kissing his cheek and stretching.

"Do you have a pen anywhere? Or do you know where I can find one?" You ask.

Lando frowns, but gestures that he'll be one minute as he slips into Oscar's driver’s room for a second, returning with a Sharpie and handing it to you.

"What's it for?" He asks. "Are you going to vandalize McLaren to get me back?"

You giggle, standing up from the bed.

"I'm heading over to Red Bull," you explain, as if that would make any sense to Lando. "I'm going to see if I can get Max Verstappen to sign my cast. Ooh, and maybe I'll look for Charles too after."

"What?!" Lando splutters. He can't believe his ears. "You want Max and Charles to sign your cast before your own boyfriend? I know they were your favorites before we met, but have I made no progress?"

You laugh, flopping into him and leaning against his legs.

"It's because I don't want to exploit you, baby. I'm going to enjoy their signatures and then maybe sell the cast on eBay once it's off."

Lando bursts out laughing at your explanation, eyes squeezing shut as he holds you tight.

"My little businesswoman. Can I please be the first to sign it?" He asks.

You hand him the Sharpie, holding out your wrist to him. He takes it ever so gently and his tongue peeks out his mouth as he concentrates.

Twisting your arm around to read it, you grin as Lando looks proud of his work. Instead of signing as he would sign a hat or shirt for a fan, he's simply printed his name, followed by a collection of kisses and one wonky love heart. He lightly kisses your exposed fingers, then pats you cheekily on the bum as you pass him.

"Go get your signatures, baby."

thank you for reading! feedback is always appreciated <3

[reiding-writing]

C O L D ! R E A D E R M A S T E R L I S T !

CAPSULE SERIES [GENRE]

/kæpsjuːl ˈs̠ɛrieːs̠/

A series of stories or documents that can be read in conjunction with each other or as stand alone articles.

[ pair. ] spencer reid x fem!cold!reader

[ fics. ] twenty eight

[ key. ] 🌨️/angst ❄️/fluff 🧊/hurt*comfort

main masterlist.

0.9k | greetings & salutations. ( ❄️ : you meet spencer reid for the first time.)

2.1k | (under)qualified. (❄️🧊 : Sometimes, having older people work alongside the team is beneficial, other times they’re ageist and discredit anyone younger than them. The only real solution for that is to stand up for yourself.)

1.4k | roommates. 1.4k | part two. (❄️ : when you and spencer share a room together on a case, you find yourself a little out of character at the revelation you'll have to share a bed with him)

1.1k | checkmate. (❄️ : morgan and spencer just cannot agree on whether or not chess is actually a fun game to play, dragging you and emily into their debate in hopes of gaining a majority vote.)

1.0k | majority vote. (❄️ : morgan is convinced that you're incapable of expressing human emotion, so you bring spencer in as backup to consolidate you.)

2.3k | breaking the ice. | 2.4k | part two. (🌨️🧊 : Sometimes people just cry, there doesn't really have to be a reason. But when you have a reputation for being cold and uncaring, being emotionally vulnerable with other people isn't very easy. Spencer doesn't care though, he'll get through to you either way.)

1.6k | takedown. (❄️ : Who knew watching somebody take down an unsub would cause Spencer to feel so many emotions at once?) | 2.4k | part two. (❄️ : Spencer might be a know-it-all, but at least he actually knows the things that he talks about.)

3.1k | backup. (❄️🧊 : some men are assholes who only care about their own gratification, some men are spencer reid.)

2.9k | cup of coffee. (❄️ : a local officer on a case you're working on really wants to impress you, spencer reid does it without even trying.)

1.6k | trypanophobia. (🧊: you get an injury that needs medical stitching to stop it from scarring properly, but you’re not a fan of needles.)

2.8k | close call. (🧊🌨️ : spencer runs head first into a situation that almost gets him killed, and you show your concern in a very roundabout way.)

1.5k | little things. (❄️ : You'd like to say that you were entirely successful in emotionally removing yourself from your coworkers, but Spencer had managed to work himself into a crack in your emotional wall and the rest of the team is starting to notice.)

3.0k | hometown. (🧊❄️ : spencer runs into an unfortunately familiar face during a case in las vegas, and you help him escape it whilst inadvertently proving you pay more attention to him than he thought you did.)

2.3k | sick day. (🧊❄️ : Stubbornness is both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, but there's always going to be one person with enough leeway to force you into what's best.)

1.0k | visitation. (❄️ : the team come to visit you post surgery, you're feeling a little more accepting than usual.)

1.5k | artificial sweetener. ( ❄️ : spencer's affinity for sweet drinks often bites him in the back when it comes to coffee shops, but with you as his conpany, it doesn't last very long.)

1.2k | talking fists. (❄️? : alcohol and a short temper don’t mix, who would’ve thought?)

1.5k | secret santa. (❄️ : spencer’s a little stumped on what to get you for secret santa.)

1.0k | just another day. (❄️? : you and the team get caught in texas over christmas.)

2.3k | oh no. (❄️ : Spencer makes a (rather terrifying) revelation in relation to his ice-hearted coworker, who might not aetually be all that ice-hearted.)

1.2k | face to face. (🌨️ : you threaten to crack under the stress of spencer’s abduction.)

2.2k | à bientot. (❄️ : spencer takes an opportunity to get closer to you based on nothing more than a passing comment.)

1.4k | midnight visitor. | 1.3k | part two. (🧊 : after a particularly eventful case, spencer has a night terror, and the only person he wants to see, is you.)

1.1k | adrenaline. (🧊🌨️ : you and spencer get caught in an explosion, and you’ll be damned if you don’t both get out of it.)

[thelostconsultant]

Double surprise

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: Lando wants to surprise you, but in the end you surprise him too.

Lando could tell Max was already planning to bang his head against the coffee table, but it honestly wasn't his fault. Maybe he was terrible at making decisions at the moment, yes, so what? It's not like he had anywhere to rush at this time, and if he was a true friend, he would stay to provide emotional support.

Because Lando was preparing for something big, and the first step was asking a jewelry store employee to jump in the hotel he was staying in with a bunch of engagement rings. If he showed up in the store himself, social media would be full of pictures within a matter of minutes. He didn't want to ruin the surprise. And it was also much more comfortable this way.

“Lando, just pick the third one. You said it yourself, that's her style,” Max tried.

With a thoughtful hum, the Brit picked up the said piece and took a better look at it. “Yeah, it's true, but,” he began, then came to a halt as he grabbed the last one the jeweler showed him. “I don’t know, the first one is a classic, but what if she prefers something modern and trendy?”

The jeweler watched him in silence, the patience of a saint radiating from his smile. He had been there for two hours now, it was already nine in the evening, but he not once made a comment about still being there. “Which one is closer to what she usually wears?” he asked softly, trying to guide him towards a decision.

Lando thought for a moment. “The classic one,” he replied while he took a closer look at it again.

One big, round white diamond with two smaller stones on its side, completed by a yellow gold band. It was clean. Nice. Something simply elegant for her. But then he glanced over at the other one and saw the curved white gold band with a big, pear shaped yellow diamond, and a voice in his head told him that was the one. People would go insane over it when you shared it on social media.

He looked up at the jeweler with a thankful smile, then turned to Max. “All right, I'm buying both. She'll get the trendy one, but if she doesn't like it, all I'll have to do is pull out the classic option. She can even wear whichever she prefers depending on the day,” he explained his master plan.

Max let out a sigh of relief and mouthed ‘finally’ under his breath, while the jeweler clapped his hands together and closed the box with the rest of the rings. Meanwhile Lando had a huge grin on his face, clearly satisfied with his decision. He solved the problem. Sure, it took two hours, but he wanted to pick the perfect ring for you.

Since he specifically asked for rings already available in your size–which he only knew because he stole one you wore on that finger–he kept the chosen ones and said goodbye to the jeweler after paying for the items. Once they were left alone, Max picked up the rings and took a closer look at them, carefully examining every centimeter, every curve, and every stone. As if he was waiting for approval, Lando raised an eyebrow at him.

“Good choice if you ask me. Seeing her disappointed in your taste wouldn't make you feel good, even if she said yes,” Max said with a short laugh before putting down the jewels.

Rolling his eyes, Lando stretched his arms above his head and fought back a yawn. Media day always took a lot out of him and today wasn't any different. Add the stress of making the right decision and he felt like a truck had hit him. “Thanks, mate,” he told his friend.

“When will you ask her?”

“She arrives tomorrow, so I guess I'll get it over with as soon as I can. I need an extra boost for qualifying,” he added with a laugh.

Max gave him a ‘good luck out-qualifying me’ look, but Lando was too hyped to notice. So he let out a sigh and decided to voice his only concern. “So you want to get this over with? Sounds romantic.”

“You know what I mean,” Lando said defensively, giving him a disappointed look that was mixed with the hurt feeling because he dared to joke about him not being serious enough about it.

“Well, tell me how it went.” Max patted his friend on the shoulder before standing up, then watched him with a small smile. “But I'm proud of you. She's nice and has a good influence on you… You chose wisely.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow at the track?”

Max nodded, then he raised his hand to wave him goodbye and left the hotel room. This left Lando alone with his thoughts, and he began to wonder if he would succeed. The two of you had been going through a bit of a rough patch lately, and he told you this trip was all about fixing that. You would join him for the race weekend, then you would stay in the area for a little trip, just the two of you, away from curious eyes.

His mother told him this plan of his might backfire, because you weren't entirely pleased with him right now, and who knew, maybe you would consider this a way to force you to stay in this relationship. He obviously didn't want you to feel that way, but he didn't want you to leave him either.

His phone buzzed next to him, and when he took a look at it, a wide smile grew on his face. “Hello, beautiful,” he answered happily.

“Hey, you have a moment?” you asked him hesitantly.

“For you? Always.”

There was a short pause, he could hear the traffic in the background, but before he could ask you where you were, you took a deep breath and began to talk. “So I said I'm gonna arrive tomorrow, but I won't.”

Lando felt like he was stabbed in the heart, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. “What do you mean you won't? You promised to come here, you can't just back out of it! Unless it's a family emergency. Is it a family emergency?” he asked, barely able to hide the anger that latched onto his voice.

You remained silent for a while and he silently cursed under his breath. How could you do this to him? You had agreed you would join him two months ago, there's no way you couldn't plan that much ahead back then. But then you let out a laugh, one of those adorable laughs he loved so much, and his anger disappeared at once.

“I'll send you an address. Get in the car and meet me there,” you told him.

“I'll be at the track all day and you arrive in the morning, don't tell me you won't–”

You cleared your throat to interrupt him. “I was talking about now, you muppet. Or are you about to sleep?” you asked him teasingly.

Lando huffed and rolled his eyes. But then it struck him, you were talking about now, you were talking about him driving to that mysterious location, which meant… “Wait, you're already here?” he asked you.

“Just meet me. There's something I need to tell you.”

And with that you ended the call. He didn't have the brain capacity to stop you, and it didn't occur to him that he could have called you back. Instead he stood there, staring at the screen of his phone until the notification popped up. He put the address in the search bar and checked the map. It was close, only a fifteen minutes drive from his hotel.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys and headed to where you were apparently waiting for him. He was already standing in front of the elevator when he realized he left the rings in his room, and he didn't want to leave without them. So he ran back and picked up the two boxes, putting them safely in his pocket.

After a car ride that seemed painfully slow, he finally arrived at his destination. According to your message, you were right here, but when he looked up, he noticed it was a private clinic. Hoping this was the right address, he went closer to the door and it opened right away, so he went inside and tried to figure out where to go next. This place was huge, and at this time it felt like he was in The Walking Dead.

“Mr. Norris? Please, follow me,” a woman in her thirties told him with a polite smile, gesturing towards the elevator.

“Where are we going?” he asked when the door closed behind them.

The woman only watched him with a mysterious smile, probably perfectly aware of what was happening, but she didn't say a word. She probably promised to keep your secret, which was nice, but also extremely annoying. Why in a clinic? Did something happen to you? But you sounded happy, surely everything was okay.

Before they stopped, the woman handed him an eye mask and asked him to put it on. At this point he didn't dare to ask questions, so he did as he was told and followed her guidance after the elevator came to a halt. After she made him stop, he heard a door open and he was soon pushed ahead to enter.

He waited. Someone would hopefully come over to tell him what this was all about, and until then he decided to remain silent. And then he felt soft fingers trace his cheek, only to find the edge of the mask and slowly pull it off his head. There you were, happy and in one piece. With a smile, he was quick to pull you into a hug.

“I missed you,” he whispered as he kissed your head then buried his face into the crook of your neck. “What are you doing here? Or rather, what are we doing here in a clinic?”

“I have a surprise for you,” you purred into his ear, and he could feel your nails scratch the skin on the back of his neck as you spoke. It felt nice. He missed this.

For the first time, he took a look around the ultrasound room, and when he noticed the posters on the walls, his suspicion began to grow. “Wait a second,” he began as he took a step back and looked you in the eye. “Are you…?” He pointed at your abdomen with a raised eyebrow.

With a laugh, you took his hand. “I am. Eight weeks in,” you informed him.

For a while he was staring at you with a dumbfounded look on his face, but then he stepped closer to pull you into a passionate kiss. What started out as something serious soon turned into a series of giggles from the both of you. Lando was the one who pulled away, suddenly remembering something.

He excused himself and stepped outside for long enough to find the main ring’s box in his pocket, then returned with his hands held behind his back. There was no plan, at least not for these circumstances, so he had no choice but to improvise. You looked confused and he had to flash a smile at you to let you know it was okay.

“I… You know… Damn it. Okay, so there was a plan, I promise, but you didn't really leave me a choice. Pick a hand.”

“What?” you asked with a confused look.

“Choose a hand. Left or right?”

You let out a thoughtful hum, visibly thinking about the answer. Then you flashed a wide grin at him and said, “Right.”

It was in his left hand, but nevermind, he grabbed the box with his right one and held it out for you. “This is yours,” he said nervously.

The shocked look on your face made him worry, but it slowly melted away as you slowly opened the box and saw the ring inside. You took it out to take a better look at the piece of jewelry, and soon a smile grew on your face before you finally turned to him.

“What do you say?” Lando asked.

“You didn't ask me anything.”

With a roll of his eyes, he reached out to take the ring and took your hand as well. “Will you marry me?” You nodded without hesitation, tears already forming in your eyes, and he quickly put the ring on your finger before you could change your mind. He kissed you again, but he could tell you were looking at your new ring behind his back. “You like it?” he asked once he pulled away and took a look at it as well.

You nodded. “It's beautiful.”

Lando reached into his pocket for the other box, and showed you his plan B. “If you'd prefer something classic, here's this one too,” he explained.

“You're insane. One ring is more than enough,” you told him with a laugh.

“Well, I know how many shoes you have, this can't be any different.”

With a playful laugh, you slapped his arm. “An engagement ring is different, trust me,” you said as you leaned closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He looked around and motioned towards the machine in the corner. “So… Are we here so I can take a look at my child?”

You nodded and went out to ask the doctor to come in. Meanwhile Lando couldn't help but think about how much organizing it must have taken to get this ready, but he was honestly grateful, because it was a big surprise. A big and amazing surprise. This was one of the reasons why he loved you so much, and all he wanted was to make your life as good as he could in return.

[benkeibear]

『 Their hand slips 』

☼ synopsis: Their hand (almost) slips and puts a strain on your relationship

☼ characters: Toji, Yuuta, Inumaki

☼ wc: 4.3k

☼ cw: dark content! fem!reader, Toji being a good husband and almost snapping, getting pushed by Rika and slapped (accidentally during a playfight with Inumaki), Toge using his technique on you, overall sogginess, hurt to comfort

☼ notes: I am by no means glorifying domestic violence - this fic is not about this topic. If you or a loved one experience abuse in a relationship please reach out to the police or a qualified counselor / hotline for help!

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Toji:

Being with Toji has always been a rollercoaster of emotions but you never doubted his love for you, despite him being rough around the edges. Yes, he might disappear for days, sometimes weeks after a fight but he never once lifted his hand or indicated that he would physically hurt you. If the fight was over something dumb you would usually end up in the bedroom to get his anger out in a fun way while making up again.

You don't even know what started the fight today, was it the dishes he didn't do? Perhaps he left the laundry in the laundry machine? All you know is that you've been screaming at each other for well over an hour, your throat already sore but you wouldn't stop now. Toji was just beyond annoyed at your little tantrum, at least that's what it was to him. “I said I'll take care of it, didn't I? The day isn't over yet” he tried the calm way at first, his jaw clenching in frustration when you screamed back how tired you are from work.

Things carried on like this for a while, Toji losing his cool after you screamed at him right away and he started to scream back until you were only throwing around profanities. At least until you said something you shouldn't have “No wonder your last two wives left you, you live like a damn pig”. It wasn't too bad but it was a sore topic for him and his hand raised… simply staying up in the air without ever connecting to your face but it was enough for you to flinch away. Toji's jaw tensed up further, his teeth almost cracking from the pure pressure when he realized what he almost did - crossing a boundary that should never be crossed and you looked at him like he's a monster now. Perhaps he was and you were right, make it three wives, it's deserved now that his hand almost struck you.

Ever so slowly he brought his hand down from its spot up in the air, trying not to startle you further when he reached to cup your cheek, the anger in his eyes turning to desperation. Out of reflex you flinched from his touch, your body still in flight mode from almost getting struck by him and Toji recoiled his hand quickly while nodding to himself. The anger flamed up behind his eyes once again upon realizing just how bad he had fucked up. Anger rose up and he couldn't contain himself any longer “FUCK” he roared, making you stumble backwards just to get away from him before he punched a hole into the wall. You barely recognized the man in front of you since he'd never been this violent around you or directed at you. The thought of drawing a single breath of air scared you with him raging around and you simply held your breath, your entire body shaking like a leaf in a heavy storm, but before you found your voice again he stormed out of your shared home, grabbing his coat on the way out of the front door.

Relief was the first thing flooding your mind when you finally felt like you could exhale once again, the air less tense with him out of the room and upon looking around your usually tidy kitchen, you saw the battlefield he'd left behind. The hole in the wall gaping and your favorite candle holder, the one he gifted you simply because you thought the cat warming its paws looked so cute, now on the floor and shattered into hundreds of small pieces. You didn't care much for the cushions laying around or the chairs scattered across the room but you cradled the severed porcelain head of the small cat to your chest as you fell to your knees when the first wave of shock wore off. Toji had left. He's gone now and given how both of you crossed boundaries and he almost hit you, didn't give you much hope for his return. A bitter laugh crossed your sobs when you thought of the small candle holder scattered and how it represented your broken relationship.

After what felt like an eternity on the floor you had the courage to get up once again, slowly putting things back to where they used to stand before picking up each and every piece of Tojis present. You needed to get your mind off of his departure, he sure would return - latest when he had to get his things- you told yourself, trying to calm the mess that was your head. Dedicated you brought he pieces to the living room where his show was running as always, your favorite background noise in your daily life and piece by piece you glued the little candle holder back together until it looked somewhat what it used to and it gave you hope - perhaps you could do the same to your relationship?

Once the distraction wore off you found yourself sitting on the unusually empty couch, sitting on his favorite spot and the silence was deafening, the show stopped playing a while ago, Netflix asking you if you're still watching and the tears started to form in your eyes once again. Perhaps he will be back soon? Your hope wore thinner with every hour that has passed, only hoping that he will come back eventually one day at this point. Sure, you've had worse fights with him but it never got physical, this one felt much more charged and intense than all the others before so perhaps he's sick of the constant fighting, sick of you…

Slowly you sunk your face into the pillow on the couch and brought your knees to your chest as you wept, his show now playing once again to bring you at least a little comfort as you drifted off into a restless slumber, the moment where he almost struck you replaying in your head over and over again.

Toji wandered around the Block at first, contemplating to get drunk out o his mind and simply disappearing out of your life forever since he has nothing to offer to you but his heart and body, but now he wasn't sure if that was enough - if he was enough and he hated these thoughts. He could have any woman he wanted so why is he so damn attached to you? Answers didn't come by as he sat down in the park and gulped down a cheap beer but the longer he sat there the more reasons he found just why he was with you and how you made him feel things no one managed to ignite in so long. It was clear to him that he would need to go back, that he would need to fix things with you, for his own sake because he'd be lost without you once again.

By the time Toji got up from the old bench at the park it was almost morning already, the bird chirping softly in the trees and he took a deep breath in, preparing himself to lose you once and for all since he couldn't force you to forgive him after ever but he would promise to be better, he vowed to be a good partner and later on to be a good husband to you and not once did he make you regret trusting him since he was always nothing but good to you. His posture was slightly slouched when he entered the apartment, ready to find the mess he left behind in the kitchen but it looked as if nothing ever happened here - aside from the hole in the wall that felt like a plow to his guts. That could have been your face, realization setting in once again over what happened and how badly he damaged the trust in this relationship with his cowardly reaction.

Shaking his head at his thought he made his way back to the front door, only to be met by your weak voice somewhere behind him. “Toji?” was all you asked, your voice sounding tired and so fragile from hours of crying and he flinched, dreading your next words. “Don't leave… please,” You continue and sit up now to look at him. “I'm just here to get my thi- you want me to stay?” He sounded rather surprised that you didn't send him out, cussing him and his entire bloodline out as he got his things. Toji was so prepared for rejection he didn't even consider you would want him to stay, but you did, so he dragged himself over to the couch where you sat, waiting to face him. Your bloodshot eyes shocked him, have you been crying all night over him? Over the situation or perhaps the divorce you'd surely want?

“I'm sorry,” was all that he croaked out, his ego crushed and the confidence that usually radiated off of him was entirely gone, he was nothing but a miserable pile in front of you in this moment. It took you a minute or two to fully register his words - his apology and you simply nodded, knowing he wasn't great with words and especially apologies. Silence fell upon both of you once again, unsure how to go on from here, both of you uncomfortable with the situation. You were the first to find your words again, having spent the night thinking about what you wanted and ultimately what you will say to him but right now this was all thrown out of the window when you looked at him and reached out for his hands, trying to show that you're no longer scared.

“Listen to me. If you ever raise a hand to me again, Toji Fushiguru, I will cut out your heart and eat it for breakfast, do you understand me?” You asked with a much more secure voice and it almost scared him because he knew you took that threat seriously, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips now. “That's my wife,” he chuckled a little, wondering if he extinguished your flame with fear but you weren't one to crumble, not from him or his foolish actions.

Unasked Toji whisked you up into his strong arms and carried you to the bedroom, refusing to let go of you for even a second as he smothered you between his arms and chest. Things weren't okay and they won't be for a while but at least you knew that he was willing to work on himself and you were willing to stay, so things could be alright again one day.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Yuuta:

You were always Yuuta's first priority and he never failed to make it clear that you knew that there's no one and nothing that's more important to him than you. Yet he had to save the world as usually, exorcizing a curse here, helping out there and more often than not you found yourself alone in your shared home, talks limited to texts and phone calls. He tried his hardest to make sure you're always on his mind even if he's not physically with you, especially then but you slowly felt like this wasn't the case. It felt like he was running away from home, from you to be alone, to be with Rika rather than you for the old days sake.

This gut wrenching thought became especially painful when you ran into him in the grocery store when he claimed to be on the other side of the world and not in fact in the same grocery store or even the same city. You didn't want to cause a scene, not there out of all places so you abandoned your shopping cart and walked out, ignoring the hurt puppy look from your boyfriend. Dropping the chocolates he held previously he charged after you “Wait, please. Let me explain!” he called after you and caught up with your rather fast pace but you didn't pay any attention to him, fearing the worst.

And sometimes your own mind can be the worst enemy as you now convinced yourself that Yuuta was leading some sort of double life, a secret life hidden away from you and you didn't want to see his face for a second longer. When the young man held onto your wrist to get you to stop running from him it felt as if your skin was burning, quickly tugging your hand out of his grasp and glaring at him. “Stop causing a damn scene, Okkotsu” you hissed under your breath and Yuuta knew he was in trouble by the way you only used his last name, so much venom behind your words. All he wanted to do was surprise you with your favorite flowers and some sweets since he was home almost an entire week earlier and he didn't understand the tantrum you were throwing at that moment. Yes, he did lie to you and told you he won't be home for at least another 5 days but he was already on his way back to you, his home. Was he wrong that he wanted to surprise you just to have you jump into his arms five days earlier than initially planned?

The walk home was awkward and silent, the air around you two charged with strong emotions and unspoken words - words none of you dared to speak until the front door to your apartment was closed and you whipped around, facing him with an expression full of anger and hurt. “Why did you lie to me? Am I not good enough for you anymore?” You immediately asked, letting your inner fear take over instead of trying to think rationally but Yuuta immediately shook his head. “It's not like that, I promise!” His voice was rather submissive, hating to have fights with you, especially out of the dumbest reasons but you couldn't contain your anger, your presence alone making him take a step back. He knew you would never lay a hand on him but the air around you was so thick he feared to suffocate if he couldn't keep some distance. “Don't come at me with that bullshit, Yuuta. You promised not to lie to me and here you are… avoiding me despite being back. Do you have someone else? Do you miss Rika so much you can't bear to be with me?” You questioned, taking steps towards your boyfriend despite his silent plea to keep distance. It's unfair of you to bring Rika up in this situation, both of you knew this but you didn't care. The way he was always talking about her started to gnaw at your heart, slowly building a deep insecurity that you're just someone he settled for because he couldn't have the one he wanted. Perhaps he found a better replacement? That was your initial thought when you saw him smiling to himself at the grocery store. Little do you know he was thinking about your gleeful smile when he came home early.

Yuuta barely opened his mouth after what felt like an eternity of silence when he reached for your hands, hoping you let him explain, hoping you calm down enough to start thinking rationally. “Please, just listen, okay?” He started, his voice small since he didn't want things to escalate, fearing to lose you as much as you feared the same. You were his anchor, his safety vest out in the ocean that kept him afloat when everything was against him. He made the mistake of touching you, trying to get closer to you when you were so charged and it made you feel crowded, pushing him off of you so he let go of your wrists. He would have let go if only you asked, showing him he made you uncomfortable but before he could stop it, it was already too late.

Rika pushed you away from him, much harsher than he would have ever allowed and he recoiled, backing away from your curled up body after you were sent flying against the wall, several feet behind you.

The sight of your body on the floor and the little noise you let out upon the collision shattered his heart. Sure, Rika just wanted to protect him from harm but you would have never seriously hurt him and he was in shambles, trying to figure out what to do now that one of his biggest fears became reality. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened, just sitting up and blinking at Yuuta who looked paler than usual, his body frozen to the spot as he watched you with wide eyes. The way you looked around made him aware of how dizzy you must feel since your head hit the wall - at least there was no blood on your hands when you checked the back of your head reluctantly.

“Yuuta?” You asked him as you teared up, knowing that it was just an accident. The young man snapped out of his trance-like state upon hearing your voice, softly asking him for comfort but he couldn't give that to you, not if he was the one who hurt you in the first place.

His head snapped around, looking for a way out of there, perhaps he could jump out of the window or would it be too high? The sound of his heartbeat picking up was deafening, the only thing he heard in that moment and it only fueled the anxiety further. But it was your utterly desperate voice calling out to him once again that snapped him out of his fight or flight reaction, panicked eyes finally looking at your teary ones and his body reacted on its own. Without a further moment passing he dropped to his knees beside you and cradled your body in his arms, holding you close. You knew he didn't hurt you and it was just a reaction of Rika so you weren't angry, but your body still hurt as you wept into his embrace, body trembling with each sob that wrecked through it. “I'm so sorry my love” kept falling off his lips like a whispered mantra as he gently rocked you back and forth in his arms in hopes that it's enough to calm both of you down - even if it's just a little bit.

Hours later and neither of you had moved. You were still cradled in Yuuta's lap, arms wrapped securely around you and he still looked at you as if he just broke the most valuable thing he ever owned. “I’m sorry that I made you angry,” you eventually broke the silence that just felt heavy to you but he quickly shook his head “don't… it's not your fault I lost control,” he began and kissed your temple, his lips resting against your delicate skin for a moment before you felt them move as he continued to speak. “I should have told you I'm home earlier, the flowers would have been a surprise regardless, I'm sorry I made you doubt my love for you.” He whispered against your temple, earnest regret in his voice. Yuuta knew he was gone too much lately and if the roles were reversed he would have had doubts as well so he couldn't blame you.

Unsure how to answer, you nod softly and your hands clutch onto him just a little tighter. “We will make things better,” you eventually mumble, reassuring the both of you that despite what has happened, things will be okay again and you can work past this accident.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹ Inumaki:

You never felt scared or threatened by Inumaki, he was always more than sweet to you and despite his cursed speech you never feared anything. He fell in love with you the day he found out you learned sign language for him and hasn't left your side ever since. You two were inseparable to the point of his friends automatically speaking of the both of you instead of just an individual and it was you who understood his few words better than anyone.

Laughter echoed through his small apartment when he pinned you to the bed with just one hand, the other traveling down to your sides to tickle you. Your laughter was one of his favorite noises, your smile his favorite sight and he wished he could tell you, scream out how much he loves you but he would never dare to say such things out loud, scared it manipulates you somehow and you're with him against your will. That was his worst nightmare, one that often haunted him at night and he woke up distressed while frantically searching for his phone. It's the same over and over again “You're with me because it's what you want, right?” He texts and awaits your answer as he picks the skin on his fingers anxiously. “I’m with you because my heart chose you” you tell him every time before his phone even unlocks - already knowing what plagues his handsome head.

Your sweet giggle brought him back to the little play fight you two just had and the way you were trying so hard to overpower him despite knowing you would never succeed. This thought never scared you, since you knew he would never use it against you or hold you down when you wouldn't want it. It was all just playful banter until he wanted to catch your wrist after you freed it but miscalculated, sending his hand right against your cheek with such strength the slap echoed off the walls followed by your whimper. You didn't need to push him off of your body, Inumaki got up right away, the tears that started to form in your eyes causing him to panic slowly. He frantically tried to sign “I'm sorry it was an accident” over and over but it felt like his hands knotted up by the speed and you didn't look at him, turning away as the tears started rolling down your cheeks. You weren't mad at him, knowing it was an accident but it still hurt you - the tears only a reaction of your body to the stinging pain that traveled through your face.

But the way you refused to even look towards him frustrated the young man and despite his efforts to get your attention you simply rose from the corner of the bed and left the room. Of course he was chasing after you, tapping you, holding your wrist, whining… he tried so hard to get just a sliver of your attention when you clearly didn't want to give that to him right now and he felt wrongfully punished. “Stop crying and come here” these words slipped past his lips with such desperation, he couldn't even stop himself before saying them out loud and his hands slapped over his mouth the second he realized what he'd done.

No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, your body acted on its own accord as the tears dried and your feet walked over to him. Your face was one of utter shock and betrayal that he would do this to you, accident or not.

Inumaki pulled your body close and held you in a tight embrace despite every fiber in his body screaming not to do it, it felt so wrong to him but he needed you to forgive him, for accidentally hurting you, for putting you through manipulation. When he pulled back he was met with your face full of hurt and anger, which he deserved. “Please hit me back. We can be even” he signed once, twice… but you looked away, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a step back to put some space between the white haired man and yourself. You wanted to scream, to explode at him but you collected yourself and looked at him with a cold expression. “Can you just stop?! I don't care that you hit me,” you started but lost your cool quickly and it came out more snappy than intended “we were play fighting, it happens. But you can't just crowd me and demand me to do things… and you surely can't fucking manipulate me!” Your voice rose in volume at the last part since this hurt you more than the accidental hit to your face.

Inumaki looked at you like a kicked puppy, eyes big and his face sinking into the collar of his sweater further so he can hide. He was beyond ashamed for his actions and didn't want to speak, the desperation clouding his mind and forgetting for just a split second that his words have immediate consequences and despite his best effort of not speaking, he can mess up.

With trembling hands he started signing apologies, begging for your forgiveness over and over until his shoulders started trembling and in a last effort he signed words unclear but you knew what he meant “please hold me” You whispered as he signed it and sighed. Realizing that he's more affected by this than you were and that he really had no malicious intentions you pulled your lover close, comforting him and yourself as his arms wrapped around you tightly, hands clutching to the fabric of your shirt. “Love” he mumbled out aloud, knowing this one word won't make you do anything but it was the first time you heard him say that he loves you out aloud. “I love you too” you whispered back, cheek still aching from the way his hand slipped but right now your heart needed healing from the betrayal of getting manipulated. Both, you and Toge were sure that this was a cut in your relationship but the bond you shared will act as a bandaid and you will be okay again, especially since he will be more careful now.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[dark-konohagakure2]

Could I request a Gaara X reader. Please

He sees her admiring his tattoo while at a neighbouring village, decides that noone will mind him taking her home with him. Gives her a matching tattoo somewhere on her body only he'll be able to see.

tw: dub/noncon, kidnapping, scarification, womb marking, possessiveness, power imbalance, breeding, obsession, abuse of power

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara is somewhat insecure about his kanji shaped scar, having had it since he was a young boy, and he's never once been complimented on it, only pitied and mocked. So when he's visiting a small village on official business and a very cute villager girl expresses her admiration of his 'tattoo', it awakens something within Gaara.

Gaara is the Kazekage, and a respected one at that, so surely this tiny village wouldn't mind him taking a little souvenir with him, so that's exactly what he does. The red haired Sand shinobi feels a sense of contentment as he makes his way back home with his prize tucked snugly underneath his arm.

Despite his unconventional means of acquiring her, Gaara treats her rather kindly, doting on her and not letting her leave his side, and nobody bats an eye at the fact that the Kazekage suddenly has a woman they've never seen before at his side at all times. Gaara thinks it's fate, she complimented his biggest blemish, the mark of 'love' on his forehead, and he wants to give her one to match.

Gaara already knows exactly where he wants to leave his mark on her. He won't do it anywhere too visible, he wants it to be somewhere only he can see, so that it's a special secret just between the two of them, although it will hurt quite a bit.

"This mark means 'love', something very important to me... I'll give you the same mark right here, on your most precious spot, then we'll be bound together by our love forever... It only hurts for a moment..."

He'll use his sand to leave the kanji shaped scar just above her pussy and directly over her womb, marking her precious womb as his property and his alone. Gaara will even gently hold her hand in a comforting manner until the pain and her tears subside, although it doesn't take long before he finds himself getting a bit excited.

Now that he's marked her womb, he wants to fill it as well, claiming her body both inside and out. He needs an heir anyway, and he can't think of anyone more qualified to be the mother of his children then such a sweet and perfect girl who was able to see the beauty in something as nasty as a scar.

Gaara will be gentle despite the fact that he's practically forcing himself upon her, easing his cock in and out of her tight pussy, his face buried in the crook of her neck and he pants heavily and murmurs words of praise and love to her, his hips firmly yet gently grinding against her own.

This will go on for a very long time, taking hours until he's completely sure that he's thoroughly bred her full of his offspring before he finally pulls out of her, leaving her pussy leaking with his semen as he looks down at her with a gentle smile, a rare expression from the usually stoic Kazekage.

"Th-There... You did a great job, my love... I'm sure our children will be just as sweet and caring as their mother..."

Gaara is glad that he has found what he believes to be true love at long last after so much yearning for love, and he's not going to let her go anytime soon, and if she does get away, he wouldn't mind giving her another mark, just somewhere much more noticeable.

[pitchsidestories]

a blessing in disguise II Victoria Pelova x Codina!Reader

masterlist I word count: 3158

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the oneshot and that the time jumps aren't too confusing !

warning: her ACL injury is mentioned.

“Vic, can I ask you a favour? I know you had to return to London, so I was thinking.”, Laia begun nervously during their phone call.

“What?”, Victoria impatiently interrupted the Spanish defender. She had no time for the polite fussing around of her teammate. 

With a sigh the Dutch midfielder realized, she did have that, plenty of it since she had to be subbed of in the qualifying game in Finland because of the injury with three letters which every footballer hoped wouldn’t occur to her.

It did happen to her and immediately she felt bad for acting like this in front of a friend who has been kind ever since she joined the club.

“My cousin is coming to London for a visit. But she’s arriving early.”, Laia continued more rapidly.

“And you’re still in Spain with your national team.”, Victoria remarked. There she would prefer to be as well instead laying helplessly on the sofa without the comfort of Viv or Beth at her side who knew all too well what a horror the injury meant.

“Exactly and I can’t leave.”, the Spanish player added.

“She probably planned to stay at your place?”, the midfielder assumed.

“Yes, she did. But I forgot to leave the spare keys somewhere. Can she stay with you? It’s just for a few days.”, she asked her.

“Uhm, sure.”, Victoria replied.

“Thank you, I owe you.”, Laia responded gratefully.

“You’re welcome, that’s what teammates are for.”, the Dutch footballer smiled fondly, she was so thankfully for the team she played for and every person who was a part of it, her heart was full of warmth when the young woman thought of them.

“I’ll let my cousin know that she can stay with you.”, the defender answered in equal parts cheerful and relieved.

It didn’t take too long until someone rang her front door. Getting up with her injured knee was a challenge on its own, but hearing her ring once more, made Victoria curse under her breath:” Godverdomme!”

The midfielder almost regretted it once she saw the beaming face of Laia’s cousin. Because damn the university student was beautiful, Victoria thought to herself.

“Hola Victoria, nice to meet you, I’m y/n, Laia’s cousin, she told me so much about you already.”, you greeted her with a huge smile on your lips.

“Uhm, hi. Come on in.”, the Dutch player blushed while stepping aside so you could enter her home.

“Gracies.”, you muttered in Catalan.

“You’re welcome. You can sleep here.”, Victoria explained, showing you her guestroom which was beautiful and let a lot of light in when the sun shone.

“It’s pretty.  you commented, before taking a closer look at your host, rising worriedly an eyebrow at her, did you hurt your leg?”  Since you and your cousin Laia has always been very close you knew a lot about injured players and spotted one easily.

The dutch player scrunched her nose, obviously uncomfortable with the attention being shifted towards her injury.

“Oh… yeah, happened with the national team. That’s why I’m home while everyone else is in camp.“, she replied, the sadness resonating in her voice.

You immediately felt bad. But seeing her struggle to move around her own home gave you an idea.

“I’m so sorry to hear this. Did you have dinner yet?“, you asked innocently.

Victoria paused, surprised by the question: “Uhm… no.“

“Is there a supermarket nearby?“, you continued which seemingly only added to her confusion.

“There’s one down the street.“, Victoria said, pointing vaguely in the direction with her thumb.

You smiled at her: “I’ll cook something for you as a thank you for letting me stay here. That way you can rest your knee.“

“You don’t have to… really.“, Victoria declined quickly.

You felt it was out of politeness so you shook your head: “No, it’s alright. Do you like paella?“

The football player considered you for a moment as if she was unsure what to make of this situation. But then the corners of her mouth quirked upwards and she shrugged: “You’re cooking so you get to decide what you want to make. I’m just here to eat.“

You grinned back at her: “Okay. I’m trying to be quick. But I might need your keys so you don’t have to get up again to let me back in later.“

“Here.“, Victoria produced a bunch of keys from the pocket of her sweatpants and handed them to you.

“Gr- Thanks.“, you corrected yourself before you could fall back into Spanish again.

You pocketed the keys and made your way to the supermarket alone.

It took you a while to find your way around. There was a lot of things to discover and it took you a while to find all the ingredients.

Carrying bags of groceries, you returned to Victorias place.

“I’m back.“, you announced yourself.

“I was just texting your cousin because I thought you’d ran off with my keys.“, Victoria called from the living room.

“Well, I can’t get far with just your keys, right?“, you answered while you paced the bags on the kitchen table and got to work.

As the football player limped over to watch you, you continued: “But this explains why Laia texted me that I should hurry up with grocery shopping. I just assumed a certain dutch woman got hungry and impatient while I was away.“

“I wasn’t impatient.“, she grimaced.

You laughed lightly, happy with the fact that you two got on so well that you already resorted to teasing each other.

“Uhu sure. Get ready to taste the best paella you’ve ever eaten.“, you smirked.

You could feel Victoria watch you with raised eyebrows: “You’re bragging too much.“

“Oh, you don’t believe me?“

“I believe you when you’re done cooking.“

“Go and try it.”, you nodded encouragingly after you cooked the paella, it’s delicious scent was filling the whole kitchen.

With closed eyes the Dutch woman took her first bite before admitting:” Oh wow, that’s actually pretty good.”

For her it tasted after vacation spent in Spain, when the day in the water was over and the sun was about to set, a cold Sangria on the table to drink alongside it.

Meanwhile the recipe for the paella had a special place in your heart as it was one passed from the women in your families to the next generation.

Meaning this meal reminded you of home, on weekends spend at the countryside. You missed this, but you knew that this adventure was worth the yearning.

“I told you so.”, you told her delighted.

“Yes, you were right.”, she sighed dramatically.

“I’m glad you liked it.”, you blushed.

“This is so good. I’m glad you made this huge pan full.”, Victoria raved about your cooked dinner.

“I’m sure there’ll be some leftovers.” A bit later you realized you were wrong.

“Turned out that I underestimated football players appetite.”, you laughed whole-heartedly.

“You absolutely did.”, the midfielder grinned mischievously.

“But I guess that means you did really like my paella.”, you observed smiling.

“Yes, you can stay here. You passed the test.”, the Dutch player winked at you.

“Thanks?”, you giggled nervously.

“Just joking. Thank you for cooking.”, she replied genuinely.

“You’re welcome.”, you muttered, you were grateful for her hospitality. Not everyone would let a stranger sleep in their place even when she was the cousin of a teammate.

“I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to.”, Victoria went on earnestly.

“No worries.”, you waved it off.

“I’ll make breakfast in return.”, the midfielder decided.

“English or Dutch breakfast?”, you asked her.

“Whatever you want. But don’t expect too much.”, she warned you.

“I won’t.”, you assured her.

“Good because I’m shit at cooking.”, Victoria confessed.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, you’ll see.”, the Arsenal player smirked.

The following day, the breakfast wasn’t as bad as your host claimed it to be, but your day was supposed to be even better than that.

“Vicky, can you look after Myle this afternoon? I’ve a doctor’s appointment.”, Vivianne questioned her teammate on the phone.  

“Sure, I love the doggo.”, Victoria agreed happily.

 “Dank je !”, the older woman voice sounded relieved.

“Geen dank. Tell Beth I said hi.”, she responded cheerfully.

“I’ll. Also you texted you’ve a roommate at the moment. Will she be there too?“, Vivianne asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

Her dutch teammate shrugged: “Probably. Unless she wants to explore London on her own.“

“She’s Codis cousin, right? I assumed that as a child from the country side, she would like dogs.“

Victoria frowned but she decided to bite back the question of where Viv knew that from. Knowing the older dutch player, she would probably only get something vague or mysterious in reply anyway.

Instead, Victoria played along: “I mean who doesn’t like dogs?!“

“Exactly.“, Vivianne grinned back.

The sun even made rare appearance in the afternoon while you followed Victoria to go dog sitting.

As soon as the dutch football player had opened the door, a small brown dog was already waiting for you, wagging its tail.

You immediately dropped to your knees in the middle of the floor to pet the dog: “Oh my god. Myle is adorable!“

“Right?“, Victoria smiled down at you while she walked past, deeper into Beths and Vivs apartment.

“Yes, she’s such a cutie!“

Happily, the little dog started to climb up on your lap and lick your face. You giggled.

“Myle, come here.“, Victoria called from the living room and Myle immediately followed her call.

Victoria was sitting on the sofa, the dog right in front of her when you joined them.

“Show y/n what we taught you.“

You laughed: “What is she supposed to do?.“

“Watch.“, Victoria said, holding up one finger. “Sit!“

There was a small pause at first but then Myle sat.

You clapped your hands excitedly: “Well done, Myle.“

“Now lay down. And play dead.“, Victoria commanded.

You watched as the small dog laid down and then rolled over on her back.

You bent down to give rub her belly: “Good girl!“

Victoria looked almost as proud as if it was her own dog: “She’s so talented, right?“

“Yes, she’s a really smart puppy.“, you agreed. You could not get enough of Myle.

“The whole team loves her.“

“I can see why.“, you smiled. Your cheeks felt like you had been smiling the whole time since meeting the dog.

“So it’s a big honour to be dog sitting.“

You thoughtfully studied the football player for a small moment before suggesting: “Do you think we could go for a little walk? If that’s okay with your knee?“

“Sure, who’s going to stop me?“, Victoria smiled confidently but the short look of worry that had flashed across her face did not escape you.

You gave a one-shoulder shrug, trying to match her energy: “I don’t know. Your team doctor, the physios…?“

“They’re way too busy to watch me all the time.“, she joked as she determinedly got up from the sofa and searched for Myles leash.

You nodded slowly: “Okay, let’s go then.“

Despite the pain in her knee, Victoria was eager to show you the beautiful sides of her home of choice. After a short ride on the tube, you walked down the streets of Notting Hill.

Due to her injury, you took several breaks which you didn’t mind because it gave you the time to admire the pastel-coloured houses.

“The city is beautiful.”, you beamed.

“Don’t fall in love in love. You’ll never leave.”, the Dutch woman warned you jokingly.

“I’m only here for one Uni semester as an exchange student and already left my heart in Barcelona.”, you reassured her.

For a second the midfielder was too stunned to speak, before she caught herself again: “Wait. Are you saying you’re staying here?”

“Yes, for one semester.”, you affirmed.

“Oh, I thought you’d just visit.”, Victoria mumbled, while redoing her high ponytail nervously.  

“No, I’ll be here a bit longer than that.”, you said.

“I see..”

“You don’t like that news?”, you raised an eyebrow at her.

“No, I do. That means you can make more paella for me.”, the football player disagreed delighted.

“Okay, I can teach you how to cook it.”, you offered her gladly that she loved your family recipe as much as you did.

“Promise?”, she looked at you big-eyed.

“Promise. Maybe Laia and your other teammates could join us if they want to.”, you thought out loud. Grateful to be able to get to know some more people outside of university, maybe even becoming friends with some of them.

“Sure, they could.”, Victoria replied half-heartedly. Normally she loved to spend time with the fellow Arsenal players, but the thought of sharing you with them wasn’t something the Dutch woman looked forward to. Watching you cook was very intimate experience for her.

“Could be fun.”, you tried to convince her from your idea. The rest of the walk with the dog was uneventful. Still, you wondered why the midfielder was a bit more distanced than before. Got something you said lost or misunderstood in translation?

“Thanks for taking care of Myle.”, Vivianne remarked once she returned from the appointment to pick up her puppy.

“You’re welcome, she’s such a good dog.”, you waved it off, already falling for the dog’s charm like everyone else in the team.

“Myle got a new fan.”, Victoria commented with a cheeky smile on her lips.

“I’m not surprised.”, the proud dog owner grinned.

“I can’t wait to see her again.”, you hummed.

“You’ll soon enough.”, the midfielder promised you.

You enjoyed the days you got to spend with Victoria at her place.

It was like you two had always known each other, there was nothing awkward about it.

You loved cooking and Victoria was more than grateful to have some help around the house.

But your time as roommates was about to end on the day Laia returned from her national team.

While your cousin helped you transfer all your stuff to her house, Victoria sat in her kitchen talking to her dutch teammate.

“You fell for Laias cousin.“, Vivianne said with her typical dutch directness.

The younger player grimaced: “I didn’t fall for her.“

She could basically hear Viv roll her eyes. “If you say so… Then why did you look so sad all day about the fact that she left for Laias apartment today?“

“I’m not sad.“, Victoria protested again, slowly getting irritated with her teammate.

“Tell that to your face, Vic.“, the older player chuckled.

“My face is fine…“

“Vic…“, Beths voice said, she apparently had taken the phone from her girlfriend.

“What?“

Upon the sound of Victorias annoyed voice, even the England winger gave up: “Oh, doesn’t matter.“

For a while there was radio silence between you and Victoria. Finding your way around university took up most of your time and energy. Laia also took it upon herself to show you London whenever you both had some free time.

You were supposed to be working on an assignment when Victoria called.

“Sorry, Vicky. First week of university was a lot. But I’ll be at your home match this weekend…“, you started to apologize before she even said a word.

“I- you will be?“, she asked surprised.

“Yes. Got to see my cousin with her team.“, you smiled.

“She’ll be great.“, Victoria promised you, her voice sounding a bit more chipper.

“I bet so.“

“You’ll see.“

For some reason, after that phone call, you could barely wait for the weekend to come.

Your cousin even provided you with an Arsenal shirt for the game.

You wore it proudly as you watched the game in the stands, cheering loudly whenever Laia had the ball.

The game ended with a clear win for Arsenal.

While people started leaving the stadium, Victoria slowly limped in your direction.

She was still not walking too well but she grinned at you.

“Nice outfit, y/n.“

“Oh thanks.“, you laughed and turned around to show her the Codina on your back.

“Looks good on you.“

“It does, right?“, you winked at her.

“Oh yes.“

“Vicky wants you to get a Pelova one.“, Laias voice joined the conversation as she appeared in front of you.

You turned to the injured player: “You do?“

Victorias cheeks reddened as she asked Laia: “What? Why would I?“

Laia shrugged: “You said that earlier in the dressing room.“

“Oh. See you, Vicky. Laia, we’ll meet each other later.”, you bid goodbye abruptly.

“Where’s she’s going?”, the Dutch woman asked your cousin confused.

“I think home, why?”, she replied, but there wasn’t an answer coming from her friend as the fellow footballer tried to catch up with you.

Surprised you turned around once you felt her gaze on your back:” Vicky?”

“Where are you going?”, Victoria questioned slightly out of breath.

“Home. Laia’s question made you uncomfortable, so I thought it might be better when I leave. But you should know that I really enjoyed the week we had when I arrived in London.”, you explained quickly.

“So did I. Y/n, my door is always open for you.”, the midfielder offered kindly.

“That’s nice of you.”, you commented, smiling thankfully.

“I mean it.”, she emphasized.

“What if I don’t like you like a normal friend?”, you searched in her light eyes for an answer to the question which made your heartbeat faster.

“You mean the way you want to wear my jersey at games?”, Victoria grinned excitedly.

“Si.”, you muttered blushing.

“If I get you my jersey, will you kiss me?”, the Dutch woman pressed on delighted by that idea.

“The answer is yes.”, you replied laughing.

“Wait here.”, she told you smirking before walking as fast as she could with her injury to the changing room.

“Vicky, what’s going on?”, Beth wanted to know noisily.

“I’ve to hurry up.”, Victoria waved it off.

“She’s getting her girl, Beth.”, Vivianne observed. Sometimes it scared the younger player how well the older one could read her thoughts and doings. But this time she had no time to tell her off.

“How can we help`”, the blonde asked cheerfully.

“Help me find a clean jersey with my name on it.”, Victoria answered.

“Found one.”, Beth cheered after a couple of minutes of searching.

“You got the jersey.”, you remarked amusedly, once she handed it to you.

“Told you.”, the midfielder stated proudly.

“I guess it’s time to fulfil my part.”, you said while your lips collided into the softest most heartfelt kiss.

“I wanted to do this since you cooked me paella.”, Victoria confessed.

“When don’t stop now.”, you threw her a cheeky smile before she kissed you again, more eagerly than before.

What a coincidence it was for you two to meet each other the way you did, later when your girlfriend was fully recovered from her ACL injury, she would call the start of your romance a blessing in disguise.