#Thank you wardrobe team

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x02

We are short on the costumes to look at this week as we continue this multi episode arc, so this meta is going to be a pretty short one! I’ve had a pretty busy weekend, so things have worked out for me and its also the reason why I'm only posting this on a Tuesday evening!!!!

There are a few things to point out before I get to the main costumes - we have more bright pink in play here - on the Mom in the car that got hit by the drunk driver. I still have no idea what its trying to tell us a this point, but I have my eyes peeled for more bright pink to appear in the next couple of episodes and see if I can unravel its use.

On the non costume front, on the ship - its a yellow cable that leads to the bomb that ensures communication cannot be restored to the ship when nit explodes - the fact the communications engineer also dies, just re-emphaises the point. Communication is a key theme in this episode.

Back to costumes an in the same vein as the cable, we see Captain O’s deputy in his yellow rain coat when she gives the abandon ship order, and the yellow wire is prominent on the radio when she tells him to do so. He is now the one responsible for communicating her order to the rest of the ship and getting everyone onto the life boats. This is good and effective communication and we see the results of it as we are shown the ship being evacuated. 

Hen and Karen are the only ones we get in a new costume this week.

Lets start with Karen - its an interesting choice - we have her in this navy blue shirt and trousers combo with a brown belt. the top has blue and green Richelieu (cutwork) design on the sleeves and the trousers are also decorated with Richelieu. There are two things at play with this costume choice - the almost entirely navy outfit places her in the same category as Chim, Buck and Eddie. this is very very intentional - Karen mirroring/paralleling them places her in the same position they hold - Karen is meant to be there to show that Hens thought process is flawed and as an outsider to proceedings thats really important for the audience - we need to see that Hen isn't this flawless captain that we've been shown up to this point. The other thing it's designed to do is maintain Hen as separate from everyone else. This visual device helps the script re-enforce things so that when she is then spurred into trying to get hold of Bobby and Athena we are focused on her because of her 'otherness' visually she stands out and we obviously need her to to help drive the narrative forward.

The other thing with Karens costume is the green and blue Richelieu which creates this visual representation of storm clouds swirling and moving in - a subtle reference, not only to Hen's currently cloudy viewpoint on things, but also to the impending storm brewing out in the ocean around the cruise ship. I really love it when they can drop subtle hints like this in set and costuming!

THen we have Hen!

Putting her into her white tee, jeans, green sneakers and this printed silk jacket, and not showing her changing out of her uniform into said outfit while the rest of the firearm are still in uniform helps to separate her from the ‘three Judases’ its a really loud and obvious visual way of separating her from the not only the three boys, but also from the firehouse as a whole. The way the scene is set up helps with this as well -she is on the same side of the bench and room as Chim, Buck and Eddie, until they question her version of events (Eddie is the one to actually ask the question and he is the one dressed differently to Chim and Buck - this isn't about putting him in opposition to them, more just visually signalling that he's the one to ask the important question that we as viewers should be ready for) and then she moves away from them and becomes visually in opposition to them. Its the perfect example of costume, set and direction working in perfect harmony to tell the story visually - we don't actually need to hear whats been said, we can tell it all from the way its shown to us visually.

Hens jacket is a fascinating choice - it plays into a couple of themes we’ve seen in action over the two episodes we’ve had thus far. I did write a little bit about it when we got the first stills of it (which I now cannot find - stupid tumblr search!) but essentially it is a jacket that has various places around California - the golden gate bridge, the redwood trees in Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, etc. as well as the victorian style rose pattern running along the cuffs and edges of the jacket.

The pink roses are a really lovely touch - and one I picked up on specifically because Hen is not a flowery kind of person, so seeing them on her means they are important. Pink roses are generally considered to signify a strong friendship or family bond - something that is ultimately at the heart of matters - the fire family are just that - a family and they might have argument's etc, but they still love each other as a family and will go all out to be there for each other. Its a low key piece of

then we have all that water - do we even need to talk about its meaning?!! Its a literal visual play on the entire them of this arc - water! We all know that water is a really key theme that 911 uses a lot in its storytelling, whether thats big water based events such at the Tsunami or this cruise ship disaster, or smaller low key water theming such as the rain being present at so many of the disasters we see. I'm interested that we now have it appearing on Hen - because it hasn't really been connected to her in many of her personal story arcs (by this I mean arcs such as her deciding and training to be a doctor, Henren's journey through parenthood, the ambulance crash or even Karens lab blowing up last season) so its interesting that we're now seeing her pulled into the water theming in a visual way like this. It is also a play on the two aspects of this episode - there is the loud water theming of the Cruise ship, but there is also the fact Hen has landed in hot water/ deep water.

Hen is also wearing her 'H' necklace, not her 'K' one. This is important because her necklaces tend to be a visual indicator of what her arc is about - the 'H' is worn when it's about her specifically and not her marriage/ family, which is when we tend to see the 'K' heart pendant being worn.

Thats all from me this week! Thank you as always for reading and I hope you enjoyed the shortness of this post - I doubt many of the others will be this short 😂

Tagged peeps below!

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @rogerzsteven @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @bi-moonlight @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud @evanbuckleysarms @satashiiwrites

[birdsandshauna]

mentally im still here, so

[xo100]

Little dreams - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Y/N takes her son Leo to his first Grand Prix, where they meet his idol, Lando Norris. Lando’s kindness makes the weekend unforgettable, sparking joy for Leo and the possibility of something more for Y/N.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1624

*:･ﾟ A/N: a few days ago I saw on insta that they now released his merch for kids and I immediately had to write a cute fic about it bc the hoodies are absolutely adorable!!!

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The Silverstone paddock buzzed with its usual chaos. Engines roared in the background, journalists hustled between interviews, and fans craned their necks for glimpses of their favorite drivers. Among the crowd, a young boy with a mop of dark hair and a light blue hoodie clung to his mother’s hand, his face alight with wonder.

“Mom, this is the best day ever!” he exclaimed, his small feet practically bouncing with excitement.

His mother, Y/N, smiled down at him, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Leo. But remember, we have to stick together, okay? This place can get pretty crowded.”

Leo nodded earnestly, his big brown eyes scanning the bustling paddock. At just six years old, he already knew more about Formula 1 than most adults, a passion inherited from his mom. Y/N had grown up watching races with her dad, and now, as a single mother, she shared that same love with her son.

Leo’s favorite driver, without question, was Lando Norris. His room was decorated with McLaren posters, his toy cars all painted papaya orange, and his wardrobe—thanks to Y/N—now included Lando’s newly launched children’s merch line. The hoodie he wore today was his favorite piece, and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since it arrived in the mail.

“Do you think we’ll see him, Mom?” Leo asked, craning his neck to peer around a group of photographers.

Y/N crouched down to his level, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Maybe, sweetheart. We have paddock passes, so there’s a chance. But remember, the drivers are super busy, so we have to be patient.”

Leo nodded, though the excitement in his eyes didn’t dim. He clutched the small notepad and marker he’d brought, just in case he got the chance to ask for an autograph.

As they wandered through the paddock, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia. It had been years since she’d attended a race in person, but seeing it through Leo’s eyes made it even more magical.

“Mom! Look!” Leo’s voice was a mix of awe and urgency as he tugged on her hand.

Y/N followed his gaze and froze. Just a few feet away, leaning casually against a barrier and chatting with a team member, was Lando Norris himself.

“Go on,” Y/N encouraged softly, her heart swelling at the sight of her son’s hero so close.

Leo hesitated for a moment, his small frame vibrating with nervous energy. Then, with a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and marched forward.

“Hi, Lando!” he said, his voice high-pitched but clear. “You’re my favorite driver!”

Lando turned, his trademark grin lighting up his face as he crouched to Leo’s level. “Hey, buddy! Thanks for saying that. What’s your name?”

“Leo!” he said proudly, puffing out his chest. “And look! I’m wearing your hoodie!”

Lando’s eyes lit up as he took in the light blue hoodie, the logo of his brand displayed prominently on the front. “No way! That looks awesome on you, Leo. You’ve got great taste.”

Leo beamed, clutching the fabric of his hoodie. “My mom got it for me. She says you’re really cool, too!”

Y/N, who had been hanging back to give Leo his moment, felt her cheeks flush as Lando’s gaze shifted to her. He stood, his grin softening into something more genuine.

“Your mom sounds pretty cool herself,” he said, his voice warm.

Y/N stepped forward, laughing nervously. “Well, I’ve been a fan of the sport for a long time, so I guess I’m passing it on.”

“You’re doing a great job,” Lando said, glancing down at Leo, who was now rifling through his notepad. “It’s always nice to meet fans like you two.”

Leo held up the notepad eagerly. “Can you sign this? Please?”

“Of course!” Lando took the marker and scribbled a quick note, adding a little doodle of a race car next to his signature.

As he handed the notepad back, he turned to Y/N again. “Are you two here for the whole weekend?”

“Yes,” Y/N said. “It’s Leo’s first race, so I wanted to make it special.”

“Well, I think you’ve done a pretty good job so far,” Lando said, his tone teasing.

Y/N laughed, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Thanks. He’s been counting down the days for months.”

Lando crouched down again, ruffling Leo’s hair. “I hope you have the best time, Leo. And make sure you cheer extra loud for me, okay?”

“I will!” Leo promised, his face glowing with happiness.

As they walked away, Leo clutching his notepad like a treasure, Y/N glanced back over her shoulder. To her surprise, Lando was still watching them, a thoughtful smile on his face.

“Mom,” Leo said, looking up at her. “That was the best moment of my whole life.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full. “Mine too, sweetheart.”

Little did she know, it wasn’t the last time she’d see that thoughtful smile.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of excitement. Leo couldn’t stop talking about meeting Lando, recounting every detail of their conversation to anyone who would listen. Y/N smiled through it all, her heart full as she watched her son’s joy.

But as much as she tried to focus on the moment, she couldn’t quite shake the memory of Lando’s lingering gaze or the warmth in his voice when he spoke to her. It was probably nothing, she told herself. He was just being kind, like he always was with fans.

The next day, Y/N and Leo returned to the paddock, both dressed in their McLaren gear. Leo wore his hoodie again, proudly showing off the autograph Lando had added to the sleeve. The boy was on cloud nine, and Y/N couldn’t imagine how the weekend could get any better.

But then, it did.

As they wandered near the McLaren garage, a team member approached them with a friendly smile.

“Excuse me, are you Leo?”

Leo’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Yes! That’s me!”

The team member chuckled. “Lando mentioned meeting you yesterday. He thought you might like a closer look at the garage. Would you and your mom like to come in?”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. Follow me.”

Leo practically dragged Y/N by the hand as they followed the team member into the garage. The space was a hive of activity, with engineers working on the cars and team members preparing for the upcoming qualifying session.

Lando was there, of course, leaning casually against the side of his car as he chatted with his race engineer. When he spotted Leo and Y/N, his face lit up with a grin.

“Leo! You made it!”

Leo beamed, running up to him. “This is so cool! Thank you, Lando!”

“Anything for my number one fan,” Lando said, ruffling Leo’s hair. He glanced at Y/N, his smile softening. “Glad you could make it, too.”

“I can’t believe this,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “This is amazing. Thank you so much.”

Lando shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to make sure Leo had a weekend to remember.”

Leo was already engrossed in a conversation with one of the engineers, who was showing him the car’s steering wheel. Y/N took the opportunity to step closer to Lando.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice low. “But it means the world to him. To both of us.”

Lando tilted his head, his gaze steady. “I could tell how much this means to you two. And honestly, it’s nice to meet fans who care about more than just the results. You’ve raised a great kid.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the garage fading into the background. Lando’s easy smile and the warmth in his eyes made her feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

“Mom! Look!” Leo’s excited voice broke the moment as he ran over, holding a small piece of carbon fiber. “They gave me a piece of the car! Isn’t that cool?”

“That’s amazing, sweetheart,” Y/N said, crouching to his level. “You’ll have to find a special place for it at home.”

Leo nodded enthusiastically before turning back to Lando. “You’re the best driver ever!”

Lando laughed, crouching down to Leo’s level. “And you’re the best fan ever. Deal?”

“Deal!”

As they left the garage, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Lando caught her eye and gave her a small wave, his smile lingering.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of excitement. Leo cheered his heart out during qualifying and the race, and when Lando crossed the finish line in fourth place, he celebrated as if it were a win.

But the real surprise came after the race. As Y/N and Leo were preparing to leave, a McLaren team member approached them again, this time with an envelope.

“Lando asked me to give this to you,” he said, handing it to Y/N.

Curious, she opened it. Inside was a handwritten note:

Y/N and Leo, Thank you for making this weekend unforgettable. Leo, keep being the amazing fan you are. And Y/N, if you’re ever at another race, I’d love to see you again. Maybe we can grab a coffee sometime? -Lando

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she read the note. She glanced at Leo, who was already excitedly telling a passerby about his piece of the car, and then back at the note.

Maybe, just maybe, this weekend wasn’t just a dream come true for Leo.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

*:･ﾟtags; @gridprincess-04 , @justaf1girl

[landoughnut]

The Tube Top Incident - KA12

masterlist - request - patreon

pairing: kimi antonelli x horner!fem!reader

summary: your top fails you in the paddock, so you go to kimi's garage, but when you're father sees his shirt on you, he doesn't take it lightly

w/c & a/n: 1.2k | this is based off of this request! thanks for sending it babe :)

"This is bad. This is so, so bad."

Your heart was now racing as you rushed through the paddock, one hand clutching the torn fabric of your top over yourself while the other frantically tried to keep yourself covered.

Eyes darted around, scanning for anyone who might notice Christian Horners daughter's very obvious wardrobe malfunction.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. And right now, that meant getting to Kimi's room without being seen.

It was one thing for you to date a driver, but a Mercedes driver? That was practically treason in your dad's eyes.

You barely managed to slip inside your boyfriend's room, slamming the door behind you, chest heaving.

Kimi, who had been lounging on his couch, looked up lazily from his phone—only for his blue eyes to widen slightly as he took you in. Then, a slow, amused smirk spread across his lips.

“Well, this is interesting,” he drawled, stretching his arms behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He tilts his head, eyes shamelessly raking over you, “Did you come running into my room half-dressed just because you missed me?”

“Kimi!” you hissed, still clutching your ruined top. “Are you serious right now? My top just ripped open in the middle of the paddock, and I was about two seconds away from flashing half the grid!”

Kimi tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “I mean… I wouldn’t complain.”

You groaned. “Kimi.”

He chuckled, finally standing up and pulling his team shirt over his head. “Relax, amore. Here.” He dangled it in front of you, but when you reached for it, he tugged it just out of reach, his boyish grin never fading.

You glared. “Kimi, give me the damn shirt.”

“What’s the rush? It’s just us here.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “Unless… you want me to help you put it on?”

Your face burned. “Oh my God, you’re the worst.”

"What?" He exclaimed, "I've seen you in less, you know."

"Oh my gosh! Shut up," you look away, now blushing even more.

He finally handed it over, laughing as you snatched it and turned away to pull it on. His shirt was oversized on you, the fabric soft and smelling like him.

"Drop your smile, this isn't a joking matter," you huff.

"I don't know, amore... this is pretty funny to me," he grins.

Just as you sighed in relief, thinking you had escaped disaster, the worst possible voice rang out from behind you.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?”

You froze. Kimi’s gaze flicked past you, his body stiffening slightly. You turned slowly to face your father, who was standing at the entrance of the room, eyes narrowed and arms crossed.

His gaze flicked to your oversized shirt, then to Kimi, then back to you. The realization dawned quickly.

“You— him—” Your dad's face turned an alarming shade of red. “You’re dating Antonelli?”

Kimi doesn't move but he does gently grab your hand with his, likely trying to comfort you.

You winced. “Okay, first of all, let’s not have an aneurysm about it—”

“Oh, I’ll have an aneurysm if I damn well please!” he snapped. “You are my daughter, and you are not dating a Mercedes driver—especially not behind my back!”

Kimi, to his credit, stayed calm, his usual cool demeanor unfazed. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think your daughter needs your permission to date me. In ogni caso, sono innamorato di lei,” he cracks a tiny smile, eyes soft and glancing at you.

Christian gaped at him. “With all due— Are you serious? Do you even know who I am?”

“Yes, not that it matters,” Kimi said smoothly.

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Your dad looked like he was going to pass out and he looked back and forth between you two.

“This is unacceptable,” he declared. “You’re getting out of that shirt right now.”

“Yeah, not happening,” you shot back. “Unless you’d rather me walk around half-naked?”

Christian spluttered, trying to think something to say.

Finally, he groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “We are not done discussing this. Find something else to wear.”

“Oh, I figured,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He stormed off, still muttering under his breath, while Kimi turned to you with an amused smirk. “So… do I get to keep my girlfriend, or do I need to prepare for war?”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s Christian Horner. It’s always a war.”

Kimi chuckled, slipping an arm around your waist. “Don't worry, mi amore, I'd win a war for you.”

Later that evening, after the chaos had settled and your father had stormed off to complain to someone else, you found yourself tucked away in Kimi’s motorhome.

You greatly enjoyed the quiet moments like this, there weren't many times when the opportunity came about.

You sat between Kimi’s legs on the couch still wrapped in his oversized Mercedes shirt, your back pressed against his chest. Some random movie playing in the background.

His fingers traced lazy circles on your exposed thigh, the fabric having ridden up as you curled into him.

“I think my dad’s going to try and have you exiled,” you murmured, tilting your head back against his shoulder with a small smile.

Kimi chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “He can try.” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a slow breath, your hand reaching up to tangle in his hair as he pressed another lingering kiss against your neck. His hands, warm and soft, slid up your sides, just barely ghosting over your ribs, making you squirm and laugh.

“Kimi,” you warned, but there was no real bite to it.

He hummed, his grip tightening slightly as he turned you around in his lap, his blue eyes dark with amusement. “You’re still wearing my shirt,” he whispered, his fingers playing with the hem.

“Well, you did give it to me.” You shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His lips curled into a smirk of his own. “Mmm. I did. But now I’m wondering if I should’ve asked for something in return. And I think it would look better on the floor.”

You gasp, "Kimi! You naughty boy," you lightly slap his arm. You rolled your eyes playfully, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

You didn’t have a comeback for that, not when he leaned in and kissed you, stealing the air from your lungs. You comb you hands through his fluffy hair and he lets out a content sigh.

His hands wandered, exploring, teasing, until you were practically melting against him.

By the time you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed and lips a little more plumped and Kimi looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Your dad is going to kill me,” he mused, brushing his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. This was his favorite look of yours.

You grinned, breathless. “Not if I kill him first.”

Kimi laughed lightly, pulling you in again. “I like the way you think, mi amore.”

[totalswag]

since it’s award season!!! can i request singer!reader winning a grammy and ofc she takes drew as her plus one. and the internet goes wild!!! watching them interact with eachother :))

grammy award winner ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note you must’ve read my mind cause when i got immediate inspo for singer!reader at the grammys. i love writing singer!reader.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary attending the grammys with four nominations, performing, and bringing your handsome, supportive boyfriend along with you.

warning(s) cursing and bunch of cuteness

The Grammy's. The day you've been waiting for since you were a little girl sitting on the couch with your family watching some of your favorite artists perform. Now, you're blessed to say you're attending the Grammys with four nominations.

You're allowed to bring a plus one. Drew, your boyfriend, will be coming along with you. You wanted to repay him for bringing you to his events and bring him to the Grammy's. Plus, he's been talking about it non stop.

"Okay, plan is to have you walk out on the carpet first, take a few pictures, then have Drew come out" Your manager, Alysa, explains before signaling you to walk out.

You nod in agreement, gently squeezing Drew's hand, looking up at him⎯he's already looking at you with so much love and devotion. "I'm so proud of you baby, you got this, take a few deep breaths" he reassures you.

"Thank you baby, I really needed that" you smile.

You start by briefly taking photos on the carpet. You gesture Drew over for a few photos as you turn around. He stands tall and to your right. His left arm is fastened around your waist, and his thumb is gently rubbing circles to keep you calm.

You two stole everyone's hearts with your complementary outfits—elegance and love manifested. Every time you two attend an occasion, your wardrobe always complements or matches that of the other person.

You let out a giggle and moved in his direction, clasping hands, before he twirled you around in a playful manner. The genuine joy and pure devotion that radiated between you two was captured by the incessantly clicking cameras. He kissed you quickly on the temple as you sat back next to him.

He whispered, "I love you," in a voice reserved for you.

Your eyes gleamed as you gazed up at him. "You have my ultimate love."

The paparazzi were getting loads of video and camera footage of your little interaction.

By the time you arrived at the arena, you were taken backstage to prepare to play two of your most popular songs from your latest album. You've been working with your dance team on geography and making sure everything is flawless. There's an outfit change that alters the whole vibe.

Drew and your manager were in your changing room before the show, seated in the front of the stage. He wished you luck before Drew and Alysa took to the floor where everyone else was.

Chase, his co star on Outer Banks, is here attending with his girlfriend, Kelsey. Drew mentioned prior to leaving the dressing room they were gonna catch up.

"Good luck out there, you're gonna kill it out there, I love you baby," he says, embracing you with a gentle yet loving hug that makes you feel protected.

"I love you handsome."

Once it came time to performing, you stood on top of the stairs when the lights were placed on you. The first few chords sounded out, and the audience burst into cheers. So many things running through your mind on stage⎯you got this.

As your final song ended, the audience erupted in applause, giving you a standing ovation. You turned to face Drew, and there he was—on his feet, applauding swiftly whistling with his fingers, pride on his face.

For the viewers at home watching got to whiteness Drew's reaction after the performance. The way he looked at you was filled with so much emotion, love, and excitement. They were going crazy on social media.

Then came the awards. Your category was up, and the excitement was evident. Drew's fingers intertwined with yours under the table, causing your heart to race.

Best Pop Vocal Album Category.

“And the Grammy goes to…" The entire arena was on their toes as the card was being open.

"Y/N Y/L/N!”

Gasps and shouts erupted around you, but your thoughts went blank for a second, incredulity sweeping over you before Drew gently pulled you up. "It's you, baby. "Go get your Grammy."

Your jaw fell, free hand on your chest, searching your surrounds, unable to think or feel what was going on. You've won your first Grammy.

He walked you up to the stage, his support unwavering. He brings himselve back the table⎯giving you your moment to shine on stage. This moment is about you.

Taking a shaky breath, you accepted the award, emotions thick in your throat. Finally glancing up from staring at the award in your hand, "This… This is unbelievable," you began, peering out into the crowd. "I've dreamt of this moment my whole life, and I wouldn't be here without my incredible team, my fans, and the people who've supported me through everything."

Drew's eyes caught your attention amid the crowd, filled with unshed tears and pride. "And to my partner in crime, Drew, thank you for always believing in me and being my rock. "This is ours."

Drew placed his hand over his heart and nodded, sending a silent 'I'm very proud of you' your way.

After giving thanks to winning your award, you were guided back stage that trailed towards the front of the stage where the tables were. Drew's eye's were already on you when he could see you in his eye of vision.

He gets out of his chair, adjusts his tie, walks towards you, "my girl won her award tonight," and wraps his arms around you.

Trying to hold back your tears, you acknowledge in a hushed tone, "I fucking love you so much, and I love having you by my side throughout this entire process."

"And I love you more than you know; I'll be here every step of the way," he says, gently swinging your bodies side to side. The height gap between you two is rather noticeable.

As the show continued, there were more performances that were unbelievably beautiful no one could take their eyes off the stage. More awards were given out from different categories. You ended up winning two more awards from Album of the Year and Best Pop Solo Performance.

There are no words to describe how honored you feel after tonight. Everyone has been discussing the idea of an after-party following the Grammy Awards. After that, you can celebrate and spend time with Drew.

Fans couldn’t get over the interview of you backstage after the show with Drew by your side. He couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time as he smiled. You would put your right hand on his chest whenever you spoke about him.

fan33: can we please talk about the tears forming in drews eyes when y/n stood on stage?!? #boyfriendoftheyear

fan2: they fit each other so well I LOVE IT

fan7: this is what love looks like if y'all were wondering

fan22: alexa play that should be me 😔

fan10: DREW GET ON THAT KNEE NOW 🫵

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[ssahotchnerr]

fluffy aaron request !! reader is on a date that is going so bad when she gets called in for a case so she shows up in her like fancy date outfit and confides in hotch about her horrible date then he offers to make it up to her and takes her out when they get back <3 maybe there’s some room for slight jealous!aaron in there somewhere tehe

it's a date

there's always room for jealous!aaron 🤭 cw; fem bau!reader, mutual pining, a touch of nervous and jealous!aaron, brief standard cm case info, fluff <3

You were the last one to arrive at the BAU, departing from the far side of town and evening traffic to blame.

Consequently, you pulled stares the second you arrived within the roundtable room. Your presence was anticipated, for one, the sound of your heels clacking against the hard floor, and:

A low whistle exited Morgan.

"Look at you." He tossed out, a tickled grin spread wide across his face.

Your current attire was a dress; a fancier, slightly more risqué choice compared to your typical office wardrobe. It was a light beige, your hair was down your back in loose curls, makeup more enhanced than your usual routine. Aaron had to (internally) admit, you looked stunning.

"Hot date?"

"You could say that."

Aaron felt his jaw move. Clench, actually.

"Sorry for cutting your night short." He apologized, forcing his sentence out deep from inside his chest. He turned towards the screen, concealing himself.

"On the contrary," You eased yourself into your chair, eagerly accepting a file from Emily. "Thank you for cutting my night short."

"With this one, you may want to rethink that sunshine." Penelope clicked her remote, illuminating the screen with the latest case photos. "Ain't no rest for the wicked."

The team collectively ran through it quickly; a brutal family annihilator, decreasing cooling off period, the gravity of the situation heightening and a panicked town. Wheels up in 30 to Oklahoma.

As the others trailed out, Penelope hurrying to her bat cave, Aaron slowed his pace. He prolonged securing his files into his briefcase, zipping it shut, leaving only the two of you in the room.

Coincidentally, you weren't in too much of a rush either.

"That bad?"

You huffed in response as your eyes found his. He was met with a hardened, utter annoyance, instead of your familiar warm liveliness.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's not much to talk about." The bottom of your files hit the surface of the table, loudly, stacking the few evenly together. "The guy sucked. Interrupted me every second he could. I don't think the restaurant he picked was up to code either. Thank goodness I got the call before our food arrived." You shuddered lightly, in theatrics but also genuineness. "I'm greatly looking forward to pretending it never happened."

There was a carefree airiness within your voice - attempting to wave it off, the simple acceptance of one night gone bad - but small dismay was amongst your words.

"I'm sorry." While Aaron meant his apology wholeheartedly, he couldn't help but feel relieved, for his own selfish reasons. "But I am glad you narrowly escaped the potential food poisoning."

That pulled a laugh from you, agreeing. "But it's fine, really. I didn't want to go anyways, don't know why I did." You shrugged as you disrupted the continual, shared eye contact. While the tail end of your sentence was spoken lowly, it wasn't long lasting, picking up some enthusiasm. "How was your night going?"

"Jack and I were just settling down to watch a movie."

"Which one?"

"Shrek."

Your head tilted exasperatedly, face pulling into jealousy. "Really? How fun." You whined gently, wishing your night could have been spent with the two of them. Your preferred choice of company.

"Well, he wasn't too happy it was cut short." Aaron admitted, a loose, downhearted chuckle escaping.

"You'll make it up to him. Perhaps a multiple movie feature when we're back? Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek the Third... maybe order some pizza too." You suggested, reaching out to touch his arm reassuringly with a gentle smile. "No matter, he'll be thrilled."

Sourcing from your touch, lightning bolts dashed within his arm, feverishly. Aaron soon found himself simply studying your face, falling on the silent side. You were just, you. Extraordinarily kind, beautiful you.

"C'mon, Dave told me if I was late to the tarmac once more, he'd tell the pilot to leave and I'd have to take a commercial." You joked. Although, a small part of you feared he'd stick to his promise.

"Yeah, like I'd let that happen." He rolled his eyes, amusedly shaking his head.

The bullpen was quiet; most had gone home, the overheard lights had dimmed, the team long out of earshot. As the two of you neared the glass doors - Aaron leading - there was an urgency heightening in his chest, mere seconds away from bursting. As if each step forward, he was losing precious time. Any hesitations on the temptations he had felt for months dissolved. Now or never.

"What about you?" He asked, sweetly but timidly, finding a sudden interest in the floor.

"What about me?"

"Who's going to make it up to you?"

"Well," That caught you in a bit of surprise, your feet halting. Aaron turned, his eyes lifting. "That's a million dollar question right there. I don't see anyone lining up to take me on some extravagant outing, do you?" You forced out a laugh, your cheeks fairly blushing.

"Maybe," Aaron replied, his voice wavering with a touch of nervousness. It was rather endearing, seeing him so adorably flustered. "Perhaps the person you're looking for is right in front of you. Figuratively, at that."

A rather charmed expression formed on your face. Eyes brightening, lips pursing upwards, "Are you asking me out?"

"I'm trying." He confessed, his boyish expression just as light as yours. "So, tell me. How am I doing?"

"How about this," You spoke slowly, attempting to suppress the butterflies in your own stomach, hoping to maintain some composure within your answer. "Your next available night after your movie marathon with Jack, I'm completely and all yours."

All yours. He could get used to that.

"It's a date."

[hoe4hotchner]

Hiii!! Could you do another non bau rich fem!reader where she gave Aaron lots of designer stuff and he starts wearing them to work? Like maybe ties, cuff links, and like an LV duffel bag and the team is just like “??? Woah dude where’d you get that??”

Subtle flex | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.9k | CW: nothing

Aaron Hotchner was usually not one for excess. His wardrobe was practical and professional, his tastes minimalistic, and his life, outside of Jack, revolved around efficiency and exuding authority on the job. Sure he had splurged occasionally on a stray high-quality tie here and there as well as his Rolex watch. At least that was until you entered his life.  

The first gift was a tie — a deep navy one in silk with subtle pinstripes. It came in a sleek wrapped box with some designer brand he had never even heard of before. You’d handed it to him with a casual smile, brushing off his initial protests with a light, “Aaron, I saw it and thought of you. Let me spoil you for once.”  

He wore it the next day, paired with his standard black suit, and noticed how it caught the light in the mirror. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hand over it. As hesitant as he had been to accept it, he was thankful for the present and happy that you'd chosen one that wasn't smothered in logos or brand names.

Then came the cuff links. They were sterling silver and engraved with his initials. He opened the box late one evening after you handed it to him over dinner. “You didn’t have to,” he said softly, though his smile betrayed how much he loved them.  

“Of course, I didn’t have to,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “But you deserve nice things, Aaron. You do so much good without even expecting a thanks.”  

And so it continued. A Louis Vuitton duffel bag for his work trips, a black leather wallet that somehow managed to look even more professional than the one he’d carried for years, and a collection of even more ties that were understated yet undeniably luxurious and seemed to multiply in his closet every so often.  

At first, he rotated the items slowly into his everyday wardrobe, unsure if they would draw attention. But one particularly chaotic morning, he grabbed the LV duffel, clipped on the cuff links, and shrugged into a jacket before heading into the office having gotten an urgent notification for a case.  

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.  

“Uh… Hotch?” Morgan’s voice cut through the usual buzz in the conference room as Hotch entered. “Is that a Louis Vuitton bag you’re carrying?”  

Hotch glanced at him briefly, setting the duffel down by the door before striding towards the front of the room to grab the file Garcia was holding outstretched for him. “Yes. Why?”  

Morgan blinked. “Why? Man, you’ve been holding out on us. Since when do you roll up looking like you just stepped out of GQ Magazine?”  

Emily leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “Is that a new tie, too? That’s at least Tom Ford.”  

Hotch adjusted his tie instinctively. “It’s not. It’s Brioni.”  

“Oh, excuse us,” JJ chimed in throwing her hands up and exchanging an amused glance with Emily.  

“I’m sorry,” Spencer Reid piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are those cuff links monogrammed?”  

“Okay, seriously,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, Hotch? You win the lottery or something? Cause if your salary is high enough for those purchases Imma have to talk to Strauss about a raise.”  

Hotch, shrugged lightly as he opened his case file. “No. My girlfriend has… a habit of giving gifts.”  

The room fell silent for a beat before Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wait, girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us in more ways than one!”

"Who is she I need details," Garcia cut into the conversation, her excitement starting to bubble over.

JJ smirked. “Are you telling me she just gives you designer gifts casually? I agree with Garcia, who is this woman?”  

Hotch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Someone who insists I deserve the finer things.”  

“Damn,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head. “Where can I find one of those?”  

“Maybe start with charm school,” Emily teased.  

As the team bantered, Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk. A message from you:  

Miss you already. Hope you’re putting the cuff links to good use. Dinner at my place when you get back?

He smiled quickly at his phone before typing back a quick reply.  

Always. I’ll bring the wine.  

When he looked up, the team was staring at him, curious. “What?” he asked, his tone amused, knowing fully well that they wouldn't stop bothering him about you until he eventually agreed to let them meet you.  

“Nothing,” Emily said, though her grin suggested otherwise. “Just trying to imagine Aaron Hotchner in love with a rich fashionista.”  

“Not just a fashionista,” Morgan added, gesturing toward the duffel. “An angel sent from the heavens, apparently.”  

Hotch shook his head, lifting his file up in the air in a quick and smooth motion as if to remind them why they were there. “Focus, everyone. We have a case.”  

A few days later, when you saw Aaron again, he mentioned the team’s reaction with a mix of exasperation and amusement.  

“I think they’re more interested in my wardrobe than the case,” he said, loosening his tie as he sat beside you on the couch.  

You laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Let them wonder. They’ll get used to it eventually.”  

“I’m not sure they ever will,” he muttered, leaning into your touch.  

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him. “I like keeping them on their toes.”  

[wosospacegirl]

Love bite - barça teen reader

Summary: Y/n's trying to hide the lovebite on her neck from Alexia and Olga but fails.

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: This was an anon request!! <3 thank u for sending it in <3

Masterlist

..

Jana, Vick and Pina had told Y/n that it would be a good idea to go to the concert of a local singer. They had told her she should ‘enjoy her teenage years’ and ‘stop acting like a grandma’.

So Y/n asked Alexia if she could go, and of course the answer was a straight up go. La Reina said it would be too dangerous, that bad-intentioned people would recognize them and try to do something bad to Y/n.

It took a lot from Y/n, the girls and Olga to change Alexia’s mind about it, but she finally caved in.

Y/n went out and enjoyed her night, although she might have enjoyed it a little too much.

Y/n had spent the last hour trying to hide the telltale mark on her neck. She had barely slept the night before, she had come back to the house late, only mumbling a good night to Alexia, who had stayed up and waited for her.

The young girl hadn't noticed the mark sitting right on her jugular when she collapsed into her bed, barely taking her shoes off.

But as she looked in the mirror that morning, the bright red hickey stood out like a neon sign, and she knew it was going to be impossible to keep it hidden much longer. 

Y/n quickly pulled on her hoodie–the first one lying around in her drawer– hoping the high collar would be enough to cover it. But as soon as she walked into the kitchen to have breakfast, she could tell that Alexia and Olga weren’t going to be fooled.

"Morning, Y/n!" Alexia greeted, raising an eyebrow when she saw the way Y/n was pulling her hoodie up around her neck, practically choking herself in the process.

Cool, act cool.

"Uh... morning," Y/n muttered, her voice higher than usual as she tried to act casual. She kept her eyes down, but she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Carinõ, why the hoodie??" Olga asked, confusion on her face. "Today’s one of the hottest days of the season!” She pointed at the window, as if the bright rays of sunshine running through their front yard would back her up on it.

Alexia, though, was worried about something else.

“Hey!” Alexia said sternly, frowning on her face, getting closer to Y/n.

Y/ froze on the spot. Alexia saw it. Somewhere she saw it under the thick fabric of her clothes. It was over for her. Alexia would never allow her to go out again.

“–Is that my hoodie?” Alexia questioned, the frown on her face deepening as she saw the little AP embroidery on the hem of the left sleeve. “I’ve told you not to take my clothes, nena!”

Y/n let out a breath in relief, her body suddenly not feeling so stiff.

“Uh, yeah,” Y/n said, rubbing the back of her neck and sitting on the table, in front of Olga and Alexia. “It’s just so comfy.”

The young girl prepared her coffee as if nothing had happened. If she acted cool enough, she would get through it.

Alexia rolled her eyes, drinking her smoothie.

“That hoodie was handmade for me,” Alexia muttered under her breath, but Y/n could still hear her.

“You always let Olga wear it, though!” Y/n shot back.

The hoodie was an exclusive piece. There was only one in the world, because the designer had made it for a campaign Alexia did for the Barcelona media team. It was blue, red and yellow, but the charm of it was that it looked old money.

Y/n fell in love with it the moment she saw Alexia wearing it, so of course, she casually borrowed it from Alexia from time to time.

“She’s my girlfriend, tio [dude]!” Alexia said as if it were obvious. “It’s different, we share the same wardrobe.”

“But–”

“Cariño,” Olga said softly, interrupting her and Y/n’s bickering. “What if you ask Alexia for her clothes before taking them, huh? You wouldn’t like it if Alexia just got into your room and took your stuff without asking.” 

“Alexia never asks for my clothes though!” Y/n argued, taking a bite of the sandwich she had just made.

Alexia turned to her comically fast. “And when did I ever wear your clothes? You wear shirts with cartoons on them, I would never wear something like that!”

“Okay, first,” Y/n pointed a finger at her. “It’s not cartoons, it's anime. Second, you did take my clothes when we went to that game in Portugal.”

“Because the airport lost my baggage!” Alexia said exasperatedly, holding the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t have anything to wear! And it was 2 years ago.”

“Well, you still took my clothes and you didn’t even ask–”

Then a tragedy happened. 

Y/n reached her hand to grab one of the fruits that were near Olga, but then she accidentally knocked her hand over the orange juice jar that was just on her left.

Her football reflexes weren’t fast enough, and the juice splashed all over the table–and on her, meaning, on the hoodie.

Alexia’s hoodie quickly became wet and turned into a weird orange-ish tone in a matter of seconds.

“Y/n! Merda [shit],” Alexia said, getting up from her seat, her eyes in horror as she saw how stained her hoodie–her personalized hood–was. “Take it off now! I’m gonna put it in the laundry machine.”

Olga, seeing it all happen, was quick to take some paper towels and try to clean up the mess on the table. Although Alexia was–again–more worried about her hoodie.

Alexia came closer to Y/n and held the hem of the hoodie, but Y/n fought her on that, taking a step back and putting her arms in front of her body.

“No, let me wear it!” Y/n said, her tone harsh.

Both Alexia and Olga stopped and stared at Y/n. Why would Y/n want to wear something wet and, well, dirty?

Okay, maybe the whole thing about being cool about it wasn’t working.

“ I-I mean I’ll go change and I’ll put it in the laundry machine myself,” Y/n said, smiling nervously as she noticed Alexia and Olga were not buying the whole situation.

Instead of waiting for them to say something, she quickly turned around, heading for the stairs. But Y/n quickly felt something tugging her back.

Alexia and her stupid arm strength.

Y/n twisted away from Alexia’s grip like her life depended on it “I said I’ll wash it later!” she yelped.

Alexia was obviously stronger, but Y/n was faster– fastest one on the team, to be more exact–no bragging though.

Y/n dodged to the side while Alexia groaned, her grip losing. 

“Come on, nena”, Alexia groaned. “I want my hoodie, not your kidney.”

Y/n was fast, but Olga? Oh, Olga was messy.

Y/n tripped over the bag Olga always left on the floor, and that’s when Alexia got hold of her again.

“Not so fast, nena,” Alexia said firmly, her tone indicating she wouldn't let her go until she got to the bottom of her awkward behaviour.

“Sit.” Olga pointed at the sofa to her left with her chin. 

Y/n gulped and sat down, looking at her feet while both Alexia and Olga looked at her sternly. Olga was never the serious one, which meant she was gonna get in trouble.

“What happened?” Olga asked, crossing her arms. “What’s this whole thing with the hoodie?”

"Nothing, it’s fine… I am fine," Y/n said quickly, tugging the stained hoodie higher. "Just, uh, you know…” Y/n looked around, grasping for an excuse. “I’m really stressed with school and… I just kinda found comfort in this hoodie, it 's-uh, so… soft?"

Alexia gave her a knowing look. "Right, of course," she said slowly, clearly unconvinced. "Since when does a hoodie help with school? And why not just take it off? I can get you a hoodie, you know. No need to go around clinging to my clothes."

Y/n’s stomach twisted with nerves. I can’t let them find out. I just can’t.

Alexia continued, raising an eyebrow. "Y/n, if you’re hiding something from us, you know we’ll find out eventually, right?"

Y/n’s face went scarlet. She instinctively reached up to adjust her collar again, but Alexia wasn’t buying it.

Olga's face softened when she noticed how nervous Y/n looked. She quickly got down to her knees in front of Y/n.

“Cariño,” she began gently. “You know that you can talk to us about anything, right?”

Y/n thought it was one of those rhetorical questions, but Olga waited until she replied.

“Yeah, um, I know that,” Y/n said, smiling shyly.

Y/n knew she could come to Olga and Alexia about anything she needed or wanted. When she messed up or did something stupid, they would give her a hard time and a lecture before fully supporting her and giving their best to help her.

But…Y/n wasn’t sure whether Olga or Alexia wanted to talk about how she got too caught up in a make-out session inside a bathroom stall.

“Look, if this is about body image issues–” Alexia began.

“Or mental health–” Olga said in sequence. 

Alexia and Olga began muttering about Y/n’s mental health and well-being, but it was like they didn’t know how to talk about it, so their words were mixing together and they were absolutely making no sense.

Y/n let them have their own monologue moment while she thought of what she could do about the whole situation. Olga and Alexia clearly thought the whole hoodie thing meant that there was something wrong with her.

“I’m gonna call her psychiatrist and tell him she needs to see him,” Olga said, turning to Alexia.

And that’s when Y/n gave up trying to hide it, she could show the hickey but maybe say it was something else?

Y/n’s mind raced as Alexia stared at her down. Maybe she could lie — say it was a burn from her curling iron or a mosquito bite she scratched too hard.

Yeah, that could work. She opened her mouth to speak but immediately shut it again when Alexia’s eyes narrowed. Nope. No way she’d buy that. Alexia had the terrifying ability to see through every excuse Y/n had ever made.

Y/n had her fair share of lies she told and got cough–’ fake stomach aches’, ‘forgot my boots',  ‘didn’t hear my alarm’. Alexia would never believe the bug bite story.

What was worse? A hickey or Alexia and Olga thinking that she wanted to off herself?

Y/n hoped they thought the mental health thing was worse.

“Okay, you two, stop,” she muttered, looking down in embarrassment.

That caught Alexia and Olga’s attention, and both women looked at her again.

Y/sighed in defeat and lowered her hoodie, revealing the bright red hickey on her neck. 

"So I went to that concert last night and..yeah, me and this girl…we kinda... kissed. And, uh, I wasn’t really thinking about where I was... You know, being kissed." Y/n mumbled, feeling her ears get red.

Olga’s eyes widened, her face changed from confusion to relief and then to amusement. "Well, well, well. Look who’s got a little love bite."

Y/n buried her face in her hands, mortified. "Please don’t make it worse."

Alexia, on the other hand, held a stoic expression on her face, not saying anything. Y/n could feel her eyes burning on her hickey, so she pulled the hoodie tight again.

“And here I was scared that we were going to have to send you to some clinic,” Olga smirked, sitting on the love seat in front of the sofa, while Alexia stood in front of her, still no expression on her face.

“Hmm, no,” Y/n mumbled, eyes locked on Olga and deliberately ignoring Alexia. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Olga seemed to have taken the whole situation in stride, Alexia, on the other hand, looked like she had just lost to Real Madrid.

"Nope, now we just have to worry about what happens the next time you go out,” Olga teased, her grin widening. 

“Look at my cariño all grown up... What’s next? Bringing your girlfriend home?”. 

Olga shot a pointed look at Alexia, her smile turning downright devilish. "Bet she’d love that," Olga added, clearly enjoying herself.

Y/n groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “Olga, stop it!” 

Olga just laughed, giving Alexia a gentle nudge before tugging her down beside her. She took Alexia’s hand, her thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“Alexia, stop looking at Nena like she did something wrong,” Olga finally said, her voice softer.

“Who was the girl?” Alexia finally spoke, as if being close to Olga had settled her nerves.

“Just…someone from school,” Y/n said, playing with her hands. “We  ran into each other at the concert.”

“You didn’t tell us it was going to be a date,” Alexia said, lifting one eyebrow, Olgas hand resting softly against her thigh. “You said it was just you and the girls from the club”

“Well, that’s because it wasn’t a date,” Y/n said, feeling more defensive. “I was with Jana when I saw the girl in the bathroom line.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Did you go to her house?” Alexia pressed.

Y/n’s head snapped up. "Why does that even matter?" Her irritation flared. "I’m sixteen, not twelve."

“Nena,” Olga said calmly but firmly, sensing the tension building between Alexia and Y/n. “We just want to know what happened, we’re not accusing you of anything–we want to make sure you were safe.”

Y/n felt her cheeks blush even more.

“Oh, no! We-we didn’t… you know,” Y/n stammered. “We didn’t…nothing happened.”

“You didn’t go to her house? Or like…somewhere else?” Alexia asked again.

“No,” Y/n said. “We-we met at the concert, and we stayed there.”

“You know you can go out alone, right?” Alexia asked. “People know you. It’s dangerous, you have to let us know where you are all the time.”

“Alexia, I know!” Y/n replied, the frustration creeping into her voice. “Like I said, we met there and then Jana drove me back here, I swear I didn’t leave.”

“You don't need to swear, we believe you,” Olga said, patting Alexia’s tight. “Right, amor?”

Alexia let out a sigh, her body not so tense anymore. “Yeah, we trust you.”

“Okay, so we’re done here,” Y/n said quickly, getting up and trying to run against the very awkward chat she just had. “Nice interrogation, though.”

But before she could make her getaway, Alexia tugged at the hem of her hoodie.

“Not so fast, lover girl,” Alexia teased, her lips curling into a smile.

Y/n froze, her face going bright red at the nickname. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered.

Alexia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Hickeys happen. They’re normal.” She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But seriously, right on your neck? A little more careful next time, yeah?”

“Necks are like…rookie territory,” Olga added, grinning.

 "Come on! I didn’t plan it! It just happened,” Y/n groaned, her face still bright red.

“You’ve got training tomorrow,” Alexia said, her tone softening with a hint of concern. “You’ll probably want to figure out how to cover that up. I’m pretty sure everyone on the team is gonna notice. Trust me, they can spot a hickey from miles away.”

“Why do you say that?” Y/n looked at Alexia out of the corner of her eyes. “You've had hickeys?”

“Of course she has,” Olga cut in, grinning wickedly. “She’s not a nun, cariño.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked back to Alexia, who was suddenly very interested in the rug Olga had bought last week.

Alexia was the most put-together person Y/n had ever met. Her capitana was focused and professional…she just couldn't picture Alexia walking around with a love bite.

Y/n had been living with Olga and Alexia for a fair share of years and–thank god– she never noticed any hickey or well…anything between the two of them.

Unfortunately, by the way both Alexia and Olga blushed at her question, it was safe to say Alexia did have her moments with hickeys, but Y/n just never noticed them.

Ignorance really was a virtue. 

“Okay…” Y/n said slowly, backing away from the living room. “Ew.”

“Hey, we didn’t ew you?” Olga protested. “Don’t ew us! Like Alexia said, hickeys are normal and–”

“Please stop talking right now,” Y/n said, already on the stairs.

“When two people love each other–”

"Nope!” Y/n blurted as Olga started talking

She practically sprinted up the stairs, her hands over her ears. “I don’t wanna hear it! I’m good! I’m fine! No life lessons, please!”

“Coward!” Olga called after her, laughing.

Y/n groaned, slamming her bedroom door shut. Maybe she could fake an injury before training tomorrow. Anything was better than showing up with her glowing red lovebite for the entire team to see.Y/n had a feeling Alexia wasn't going to be on her side on this one.

“By the way,” Olga called up the stairs,  “Next time you’re sneaking around with someone, maybe ask her to mark you somewhere less obvious. Just some friendly advice!”

“Stop talking!” Y/n’s muffled yell came from behind her door.

..

The next day, Y/n knocks on Alexia and Olga’s door.

When she heard the sleepy ‘come in’ from Olga, she opened the door, lingering in the doorway.

Olga was clearly still trying to sleep, her face half buried into the covers. But Alexia was up already, her gym clothes on while she looked at the mirror and held her hair in a ponytail.

“Here,” Y/n said, Alexia’s hoodie folded neatly in her hands, and she handed it to her.

Alexia glanced at the hoodie, then at Y/n, and took a deliberate step back. “Oh no. Keep it.”

Y/n frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t know what else you’ve been doing while wearing that,” Alexia said, eyeing it like it was contaminated. “I’m not risking whatever...teenage chaos you’ve dragged it through.”

“I didn’t—” Y/n started, but Alexia was already walking away, heading through the. “Alexia! I washed it! I literally wore it after the whole…kissing thing.”

“Keep it!” Alexia called over her shoulder. “I’m going to the gym — be ready when I get back for lunch and make sure Olga actually wakes up.

Y/n sighed, resigned to dealing with Olga, but at least she got to keep the hoodie.

Olga murmured something in response and turned around, burning her face in the other pillow.

..

Masterlist

Notes: Please let me know what u guys think <3

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which the next chapter begins

new york city hums like it knows what’s about to happen. there’s a kind of electricity in the air, thick with promise and nerves, and as your driver weaves through the busy streets, you watch paige take it all in from the backseat—her face turned to the window, hood pulled over her head, hand clasped tightly in yours.

“this doesn’t feel real,” she murmurs, eyes wide as they track the towering buildings, the people, the energy. “like, i’m actually here.”

you squeeze her hand. “you’re not dreaming, bueckers.”

she smirks, still dazed. “you sure? 'cause being in new york with you, about to get drafted number one… i must’ve done something right.”

you look at her—at the soft awe in her voice, the nerves she’s trying to hide—and smile. “you earned all of this.”

she leans over and kisses the back of your hand. “wouldn’t be here without you.”

the hotel lobby smells like roses and money. a few of the other top picks are checking in, media reps scattered around, coaches from various teams exchanging polite nods. paige walks in with her backpack slung over one shoulder like she’s still in college, but she’s greeted like a queen.

people look at you too—curious, trying to place you. her plus one, but not a public one. not yet.

upstairs, the suite is stunning. floor-to-ceiling windows, champagne already chilling in a silver bucket on the table, and a view of manhattan that would knock the breath out of anyone.

paige walks straight to the window. “god,” she whispers. “how am i supposed to sleep tonight?”

you wrap your arms around her from behind. “you won’t. and that’s okay.”

the next few days are a whirlwind of cameras and flashing lights, pre-draft interviews, and moments stolen in between where paige clings to you like you’re the only thing keeping her grounded.

you walk with her to early press calls, watch her shake hands with executives and talk to reporters with the perfect balance of humility and fire. she rides up the empire state building in an elevator full of pr staff, but she only holds your hand. at the top, she stands by the glass and whispers, “feels like the whole world’s watching.”

“they are,” you say, brushing your fingers against hers. “and they’re about to see what happens when a star rises.”

the suite becomes a glam studio before the sun even rises. stylists, makeup artists, wardrobe specialists—all bustling around paige while she sits in the middle of it all, cross-legged in a robe, sipping coffee like she isn’t about to have her life change forever.

her stylist calls you over as you’re about to change into the outfit you packed.

“actually,” she says, holding up a garment bag. “this is for you.”

you blink. “that’s not mine.”

“it is now. paige picked it out. said it had to be perfect.”

your chest tightens as you unzip the bag, revealing a dress so perfectly you, it feels unreal. the fabric is soft, expensive, and the color—something muted and romantic—brings out your features in a way you didn’t even know was possible.

“she did this?” you whisper.

“she wanted you to feel special today too.”

you change in the bathroom, hands shaking slightly. when you finally step out, paige is standing near the window, fully dressed in a glittery-dark colored custom suit that has her shimmering with every step, her curls falling effortlessly over her shoulders.

she turns—and everything slows.

her mouth parts. “holy... you look…”

you laugh, flushed. “you too. you clean up alright, bueckers.”

she walks up to you, cups your jaw gently. “you’re unreal. thank you for being here today.”

“there’s nowhere else i’d be.”

the red carpet outside the venue is chaos—reporters, photographers, wnba legends, fans with signs, people shouting paige’s name like it’s already etched into history.

you try to stay a step behind her, to let her soak in her spotlight, but she won’t have it. her hand wraps around your waist and stays there. through the cameras, the chaos, the interviews—she keeps you close.

you’re standing just off to the side when the espn interviewer waves paige over for a quick one-on-one. the camera is rolling, and you make a move to step back, but paige pulls you forward by the hand.

the interviewer smiles knowingly. “paige bueckers! big night. how are we feeling?”

paige smiles back, calm and radiant. “excited. grateful. nervous. all of it.”

“you’re projected to go number one overall—does that add pressure?”

“a little,” she admits. “but i try to block it out. i’m here to soak it in and be present.”

the interviewer nods, glancing at you briefly. “and you’ve got some company tonight. can we ask who your date is?”

paige glances your way, and you feel her fingers squeeze yours.

“she’s someone very special to me,” paige says, voice even but warm. “we’re here to celebrate the moment. that’s what tonight’s about.”

“so… are you confirming you’re in a relationship?”

she chuckles, not flustered at all. “i’m confirming that i’m not doing tonight alone. that’s all you get.”

“alright, alright,” the interviewer laughs. “we’ll take it.”

twitter explodes five seconds later.

inside the venue, the lights dim and the countdown begins. you sit beside paige, her hand still wrapped in yours like a lifeline. her leg bounces. her breath hitches every time someone coughs into a mic.

“paige,” you whisper, turning to her. “hey. breathe.”

she nods, but doesn’t look at you. her eyes are on the stage.

“whether you go first or fifth,” you murmur, pressing your forehead to hers, “you’re still the most incredible person in this room. and i’ll be just as proud no matter what.”

her eyes flutter closed. she exhales.

“promise?” she whispers.

“promise.”

then the lights shift. the wnba commissioner walks to the podium. the music swells.

“with the first pick in the 2024 wnba draft, the dallas wings select… paige bueckers, university of connecticut.”

the room erupts.

paige turns to you—eyes wide, heart on her sleeve—and she kisses you.

right there. full, gentle, and certain.

the room falls silent for a heartbeat, and then explodes again.

@/espnw: she’s the number one pick. she also just kissed her girl on live tv. paige bueckers is here.

@/wnba: #1 pick. #1 moment. paige bueckers delivers the most unforgettable draft night kiss of all time.

@/bleacherreport: paige bueckers. first pick. first public kiss. iconic.

@/gaysportsnerd: so like… when do we get the engagement photos?

@/dallaswings: welcome to dallas, @/paigebueckers!

@/overtime: not just #1 on the court. paige bueckers just dropped the most iconic draft night moment of all time.

@/chennedyfan99: paige bueckers said “i’m number one and i’m in love, what about it?”

later, after the cheers settles and the cameras stop flashing, paige wraps her arms around you on the balcony of the hotel suite. new york glows behind you, and she leans her head on your shoulder.

“i didn’t plan the kiss,” she says softly.

“i know.”

“but i meant it.”

“i know.”

she turns her face to yours, brushing your cheek with her nose. “i want to be number one in everything. including with you.”

“you already are,” you whisper. “you always have been.”

she smiles, soft and golden. “forever, huh?”

“hell yeah.”

[starkwlkr]

Could I request a Hugh Jackman x Reader (in the same universe you have set up with their 3 kids, I love that sm) Where the reader is pregnant with their first baby (Alex iirc) and they haven't told anyone, but there'a rumors, so the paparazzi swarm Hugh and Reader, trying to get a good picture of any supposed baby bump so they can break the news and Hugh gets super protective-

little secret | hugh jackman

an: thanks for the request!! we finally get some baby alex even if he technically isn’t born in this fic lol BUT OMG THIS GIF IM DEAD DYING GONE

1999

When Hugh told you the news that he had gotten the part of Wolverine, you were so happy for him. In a few months, he would leave to go get fitted for his costume, train, film. You weren’t worried, but Hugh was.

You were pregnant with your first child and he obviously didn’t want to leave you alone. You assured him you and the baby would be fine. You had friends and family that called and visited you regularly so technically you weren’t alone.

After two months of being away from each other, you finally made a visit to the set. You were amazed with everything from the props to everyone’s costumes. It wouldn’t take long for you to join the same hero universe, just with a different team.

Your bump was somewhat visible. Only your families and close friends knew. And now, of course, Hugh’s new cast mates knew. Halle and Famke were so happy to finally meet you and your bump.

“Oh, you guys are going to be the best parents! Do you know the gender?” Halle asked.

“It’s a boy.” You confirmed with a smile.

“His name is going to be Alex.” Hugh added.

For a while, only a couple knew about baby Jackman. You weren’t taking any acting jobs at the moment and the media was starting to wonder. Did you retire? Or maybe it was a short break? You went from wearing your normal clothes to wearing Hugh’s clothes or oversized sweaters. It didn’t take long for talk show hosts to start theorizing about your sudden change in wardrobe.

You didn’t pay attention to the media. You hardly did. It didn’t phase you until one day when you were out with Hugh on a walk in Los Angeles. It was a day off for him and a walk seemed like a good idea at the time. Both you and Hugh wore sunglasses. Since it was sunny out, you wore a flowy dress. Again, your bump was somewhat noticeable, but you didn’t think the paparazzi were going to shove cameras in your face. You just wanted a peaceful day with your husband.

“We should’ve stayed in bed.” You whispered to Hugh. You were currently in a clothing store with Hugh. The paparazzi weren’t doing a very good job of hiding, they were waiting outside for you ready to capture pictures.

“I would say let’s make a run for it but I don’t want you or Alex to get hurt.” Hugh placed a kiss on your lips.

“Let’s go home. I’ll just put my bag over my stomach.” You sighed. So much for having a peaceful day …

So after paying for your items, Hugh took your hand and made sure you were ready to face the flashing lights. He made sure you were ready before you headed out.

Immediately the flashing lights hurt your eyes. This was hell.

“Show us the bump!”

“Is it a girl? A boy?”

“Can I get a picture of the bump?”

Hugh held you close to him. When it came time to protect you and the baby, he was ready to fight whoever got too close. Eventually you made it to the car. Hugh made sure to get you in first so he walked with you to your side and opened the door, letting you in quickly. Still the paparazzi followed. After shutting the door, Hugh warned the paparazzi to not get any closer.

“Just show us the bump!” A man said.

“Shut the fuck up!” Hugh pushed past the paparazzi and walked to the driver’s side of the car. If it were legal, he would’ve definitely run someone over. “You alright, love?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath in. “You think we’ll make the cover? I think ‘baby on board!’ is going to be the headline.” You joked, cracking a smile.

[angelluv16]

Hi! Could I have a fic where reader is Chr*st**n H*rn*r's daughter and she doesn't have the best relationship with her dad (especially after the allegations) but she has a wardrobe malfunction during media with her tube top (which, fun fact, is called a boob tube in the UK (I think)) and the nearest garage is Mercedes so she heads there and comes out wearing a Mercedes kit and all hell breaks loose with her dad? It could be Kimi Antonelli x reader (or George Russell x reader, whatever you prefer)

Wrong Team

✩: No one except your close friends knew you were dating a Mercedes driver until a little accident happened that revealed it all

Want to be added to my taglist? (new version): Click here

pairing: Kimi Antonelli x reader

warnings: Christian Horner (🤮), Flashing? argument (chirstian being an ass like always)

A/n: I'm so so sorry this is so so bad. It's really late, and I decided to do it now since I have school tomorrow and I won't be able to write then. But Your my third ever request I love writing for you guys I love writing in general I just really suck cuz Idk what to write about haha

Butterfly Banner- @bernardsbendystraws

This day was officially the worst.

Media duties were already hell, especially when half the reporters were still throwing shady questions about your last name at you. But then, as if the universe was personally out to get you, your top decided to completely betray you in front of the entire paddock.

One second, you were answering some pointless question about Red Bull’s performance. The next—pop. Your stupid strapless top slipped at the absolute worst moment, and the cameras? Oh, they caught everything.

Panic took over. You bolted from the media pen, arms crossed over your chest, not stopping to think about where you were going. Just away.

Which, in hindsight, was how you ended up here.

Mercedes.

“Uh—hey?” One of their mechanics blinked at you, completely confused as you barged in, looking like you’d just escaped a disaster (which, to be fair, you had).

“Long story,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the cold air hit your now-exposed shoulders.

Thankfully, someone—bless their soul—threw you an oversized team shirt. You yanked it on immediately, sighing in relief as the fabric swallowed you whole. The crisis somewhat averted.

Or so you thought.

The second you stepped outside, still wearing the Mercedes shirt, you heard it.

That voice.

“What. The. Fuck.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to see your father—Christian Horner—staring at you like you’d just committed actual treason.

His face? A deep shade of red. His jaw? Clenched so tight you were honestly concerned for his teeth.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he demanded, his voice low but dripping with fury.

You glanced down at yourself like you’d somehow forgotten the giant Mercedes logo now printed across your chest. “Uh—”

“Are you kidding me?!” He took a step forward, eyes burning into you. “You just humiliated yourself on live television, and your first instinct was to—what? Run straight into the enemy’s arms?”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“Oh, really?” He scoffed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you couldn’t wait to ditch Red Bull for our biggest rival.”

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Dad, seriously?”

But he wasn’t done. “Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it makes the team look? My own daughter, parading around in Mercedes gear like she’s one of them—”

“Okay, first of all? Parading is a stretch,” you snapped. “Second, maybe instead of worrying about your precious reputation, you could ask if I’m okay?”

Christian exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re fine.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. Thanks, Dad. Great to know my well-being is second to your ego.”

Before Christian could spit another sharp reply, a familiar arm draped over your shoulders.

“Everything alright here?”

Kimi.

You didn’t even have to look to know he was enjoying this. His voice was calm, but you could feel the smug energy radiating off him.

Christian’s entire body tensed immediately. His glare shifted from you to Kimi, eyes narrowing into dangerous little slits.

“Why the hell are you touching my daughter?”

Kimi didn’t move his arm. In fact, you swore his grip tightened slightly—just to piss Christian off more. “Problem?”

Christian’s gaze flickered between the two of you, realization dawning fast. “No,” he muttered, voice cold. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

You sighed, leaning a little further into Kimi’s side. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“If you think Kimi and I have been seeing each other for a while now… then, yeah. It’s exactly what you think.”

Christian just stared. You could see the gears turning in his head, but whatever response he wanted to throw at you never made it past his lips. He just inhaled sharply, turned on his heel, and walked away without another word.

You blinked. “Okay, that was… unexpected.”

Kimi chuckled, finally turning to you. “I was expecting more yelling.”

“Same.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I give it ten minutes before he finds a camera crew to rant to.”

“Should we place bets?”

You laughed, leaning into him a little more. “I’d rather not lose money today.”

Kimi just smiled, pressing a light kiss to your temple. “Guess we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”

“Guess not.”

You exhaled, glancing down at the Mercedes shirt again. “You know, the worst part is, I actually like this shirt.”

Kimi smirked. “You should keep it.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Might as well. Red Bull’s probably already burning my team kit.”

And honestly? You didn’t even care.

Taglist: @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @greantii @norstappenvibes @mary-op81 @Karmahnicolas @nichmeddar @honethatty12 @mynameisangeloflife

[onsomenewsht]

Silencio en la biblioteca, los ángeles también pecan

About when people slide in Alexia's DMs, she forgets about it, and you find it way too funny

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: 2k

》 to slide into someone DMs [Internet slang]: to confidently send a direct message to someone via social media, mostly with romantic or sexual intentions

“Most famous person on your phone?”

Alexia’s cheeks redden slightly under the studio’s lights and the playful tone of the host’s voice.

It’s predictable enough, part of the game of rapid-fire questions. It’s innocent enough, intended to tease the interview on social media later on. It’s not bad, but she is.

She thinks of you immediately, her heart skipping a beat.

It’s not strange for her, you crossing her mind unprompted at the most inappropriate times. But Alexia can blame Vicky for this one.

The younger girl sent her a TikTok edit yesterday.

Footage of you with a sparkling toy microphone, dressed in a princess gown as a kid, or you writing and recording in a tiny studio, meeting people and doing press tours. A voice-over, some dude on a podcast, saying that you will never make it, that singers like you don’t fill stadiums. The video cuts, with impressive editing skills, to clips of your last tour.

A tour that sold out the Bernabeu.

Twice.

She blocks Vicky after the third teasing text, and if the video gets saved in a dedicated gallery is just for her to know.

“I don’t know, probably some other athlete”, Alexia lies, more worried of saying your name out of instinct than giving a proper answer.

“Messi? The Queen of Spain, maybe?”

“The Queen? Do they even have a phone?”

“You could probably have their number if they do”, he says with a grin.

“I don’t think so”

Moving on to the next question turns out to be nothing more than wishful thinking, as the host decides this is a topic interesting enough to keep exploring.

“I bet you’ve got big names in there somewhere”

“I really don’t”, Alexia dismisses, trying to downplay the whole thing, “It mostly happens on Instagram nowadays, doesn’t it?”

“You mean people slide on your DMs”

“That’s not what I said”, she retorts, her cheeks turning a shade of red that could rival the flush she gets after an exhausting game.

There’s not a real reason for her to be so embarrassed. She faced way more uncomfortable conversation and way better than this.

It’s your fault, actually.

The Catalan can’t stop thinking about the way you smoothly added your contact on her phone after you had met just a handful of times.

Your first encounter was at a Barça’s victory party. You’d been invited to sing, genuinely excited to celebrate yet another award with the women’s team. Jana had dragged her captain along to congratulate you on the album you’d released just a couple of weeks earlier. The blonde didn’t say much, but when she did, her words were always spot-on, carefully considered.

The second time was at a charity event for her foundation. Alexia made sure to thank you for your generous donation, and you joked that it was for a good cause – helping young girls and adding an invaluable piece to your wardrobe. But Alexia saw the sincerity in your eyes and knew you meant every word.

The third time was the lucky one. You both talked for what felt like hours, ignoring the demands of others, hidden away in a secluded corner of the obnoxious rooftop terrace, crowded with music and laughter, that a mutual friend had rented for their birthday party. Just before leaving, far later than you both had intended, you asked for her phone to save your number under a silly nickname. That same night, the footballer texted you as soon as she got home.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Three years later, your contact’s still saved under the same nickname.

“So, no A-list celeb likes your old pics?”

Apparently, the host isn’t going to save her from herself. Alexia realizes she has to dig herself out of this hole without making it worse.

“I mean we all comment people’s posts or text on Instagram now, you know, it’s just easier”

“Nice save”, he remarks, clearly amused, finally moving on to the next question.

~

The weeks after the interview pass in such an erratic blur that Alexia forgets about it entirely.

You are in London to co-produce an album and her schedule is getting a bit more intense now that the Champions League is in full swing. It’s not easy juggling the endless work trips, media days, and the demanding commitments that clutter your shared calendar, but it’s worth it.

The nights hidden in a studio are worth the way you alway get inspired when talking the days away, curled into the footballer’s side. The dates you take each other on, planned in advantage of months or improvised last minute, are worth every single time you have to delay your reunion. The long video calls, the flowers sent from different countries, the red-eye flights, the supportive texts that never quite compare to a comforting hug. It’s all worth it.

After a month apart, you finally have a couple of quiet days to spend together, free from distractions. Alexia doesn’t think about that interview, and that’s a mistake.

She has a session with the team’s physio when they release it, a session that Vicky interrupts abruptly. As soon as the younger girl storms into the room, with a shit-eating smirk on her face, the blonde knows it is not going to be pleasant for her.

“Oh, you’re so done”, she teases, her grin widening as she waves the phone in front of Alexia’s face, “You’re not going to like this”

She doesn’t show her a clip from the damn interview.

Oh, no. It’s much worse.

Vicky’s already saved dozens of video edits, all of them capturing the awkward moment when Alexia tries, and fails miserably, to dodge the question about her phonebook.

“What was I supposed to say?”, the midfielder complains, dropping her head onto the massage bed, while even the physio can’t hold back a smile.

“Anything else? You basically bragged about people sliding in your DMs, you idiot”

“I didn’t say that– and I wasn’t bragging!”

Vicky raises an eyebrow at the older woman’s defense, always surprised by the genuine self-consciousness of a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, “Sometimes I wonder if you know they call you Reina for more than just your football skills”

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Alexia asks, her voice dripping with resignation.

The physio pats her shoulder, offering support and signaling she can go home. Tomorrow is a day off and, suddenly, the idea of spending it rotting in bed sounds so appealing.

“Just wait until your girlfriend sees this”, Vicky murmurs, her grin widening as she bolts from the pissed captain.

~

You have seen the interview.

Of course you have.

Alexia may not keep up with her media appearances, but you do. First and foremost because you truly love her, and second, because you adore that dorky side of her that shows up in the most unexpected moments

Like in her latest commercial. She’s posing for the camera, drenched in water to look badass, but blushing, almost embarrassed, as a list of her career accomplishments is given to her. Or in that sponsored video, where she’s in the background, annoyed and teased by her younger teammates for her most listened songs of the year to be all by the same artist.

Barcelona’s media team had to cut most of it out, but you know the whole story. And you absolutely love it.

The loudest sign of her coming home is the soft thud of her kit bag hitting the floor as soon as the door opens. You’ve given her endless shit for leaving her sport gear all over the shared apartment.

Her big hands and warm arms wrapping you from behind come second, “What are you doing here?”

Alexia kisses your shoulder, burying her face in the crook of your neck. Wet hair drips down your shirt, almost enough to annoy you into pushing her away. Almost.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you too”, you reply, smiling as you stir the sauce you've been working on for the past hour.

“Idiot”, she giggles, not moving an inch, “You had dinner with that producer tonight, no?”

“Yeah, but he had an ‘enlightening revelation’ about a track he’s working on, so he’s stuck in studio and couldn’t make it”

“You artists are wired”

“You missed a date once ‘cus you lost track of time working on a drill you ‘absolutely had to master’ that day”

The older woman doesn’t argue, knowing she wouldn’t win this one, so she just turns you around to gently, but firmly, kiss you.

It feels like the comfort of a safe space, like the certainty of a kept promise.

It may be too soon for other kinds of promises, you know that, but the future ahead looks a lot like an older, even more in-love version of the two of you. If a carefully picked ring is tucked away in an otherwise-empty guitar case, she doesn’t need to know. Not yet, at least.

“What?”, she asks, taking in your wandering gaze.

“Just thinking”

“About?”

You hesitate, just for a moment, “That I love you”

“I love you too”

“And you better clean the mess you left at the doorway before dinner’s ready”

Alexia laughs, playfully rolling her eyes, but retreating her steps back to do exactly that.

She knows something is flipping back and forth in your mind, but she also knows when to press and when to let you tidy up your own thoughts before opening up.

The sauce cooks perfectly, creamy and spiced up enough to make the footballer forget the planned dish for the day consisted of plain rice and vegetables. When the pasta is presented on the table and you sit in front of her, it truly looks like a perfect dinner.

You two talk between bites, forgetting manners as the story of a songwriter arriving at the studio with too-personal lyrics about cheating hits its peak. She’s not above good gossip, you know that, and teasing about not revealing names of the people involved is too much fun.

“Speaking of cheating”, you grin as Alexia nearly chokes on the food, shaking your head, “Your football-daughter send me a video”

“Which one?”

“Which daughter, or which video?”

She can’t hide a smile, heading to the kitchen with the empty dishes. You follow, sitting on the counter to keep enjoying each other’s company and the playful banter while she cleans up.

“Vicky sent–”

“I told you to block her”

“Don’t be mean, the videos she share are cute”, you retort, “Most of the times, at least”

“Amor–”

“You have to worry about Jana, actually. She’s ruthless”

“What does that even mean?”

The pure disbelief in her eyes almost makes you second-guess the teasing.

Almost.

“Let’s get back to the point”

“Is there a point?”

“Yes, this video of you– wait, no! Alexia!”

Before you can even finish the sentence, the midfielder decides the dishes can wait. She lifts you off the counter, cutting your words short as she tosses you onto the couch with ease.

The unexpected display of strength overshadows how her soapy hands soak your shirt. It’s an old oversized tee she used to train in, not really something that will be irremediably ruined by the gesture, but it’s the principle of it.

“You watched the interview”, she states, towering above without weighing on you.

“What interview?”

Alexia raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up. One of her hands moving under your shirt. It’s a warning, her fingers trailing across your hip.

“I watch all you interviews”, you admit, shifting slightly to caress her cheek, “It was a good video, you’re cute when you get embarrassed”

“I panicked!”, she complains, dropping her body on top of yours to hide her face.

“I bet, with all those people sliding in your DMs–”

The room fills with laughter as she starts tickling you, and your chuckles become too infectious to hold back herself.

[augustjoy]

The Color Pink

Based on the following ask: Hii, I was just wondering if you could do Aaron x reader but the team for some reason refuses to warm up to her for a while.  If you can please make the reader hyperfem only if you want to. Thank you!!!! I love the idea of Hotch with a hyperfem girlie – she’d be in pink ALWAYS, with a wardrobe and home full of ruffles! So, the BAU team is against this relationship of Hotch’s because 1. They assume she’s a bimbo due to the hyperfemininity and 2. She’s young. Basically, they are questioning Hotch’s judgement on this one. Flashbacks in italics.

Aaron Hotchner x HyperFem! Reader Angst/Fluff Word count: 2552

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is 20s/Hotch is 40s), female reader, np physical description (other than having hair long enough to curl and Aaron referring to her as little – which he’s big tall so everyone is small compared to him), hyperfeminine reader, explicit language, consultant reader, BAU being judgy overprotective, Morgan being rude, Spencer and Garcia defending the reader, Reader is a presumed Bimbo…but is actually really smart (Elle Woods-esque),  mentions of food/eating, reader has a flash of self-doubt, mention of Jack, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Meeting you had been an act of fate. At least, that’s how Aaron saw it. You were not the type of girl he’d typically go for…not ever. But that morning, you’d got a flat tire on your way to work, ironically on Aaron’s way to work. He had to do the right thing, any chivalrous man would, he was going to pull over no matter what, but when you stepped out of your car…that sealed the deal. He needed to pull over because if he didn’t, someone else would, someone potentially dangerous.

--

“Excuse me miss; do you need some help?” Aaron offered.

“Oh, I um – I got a flat. I called Triple A, but they said it be like forty-five minutes.” You explained.

You stepped out of your car and stole the breath from Aaron’s lungs. You were in a satin pink button-up blouse, with high-waisted white trousers, and strappy pink heels. Your hair was cascading over your shoulders in beautiful loose curls, your gaze lifted to his. Aaron had to release a light cough to pull himself out of the trance you had him in.

“Do you have a spare?” He asked.

“I don’ t think so. But like I said, Triple A is on the way, so I guess I will just sit and wait.” You shrugged.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable leaving you here on your own.” Aaron admitted.

You gave him a once over. He was in a well-fitted gray suit, his hair lightly slicked back, black dress shoes, and a silver Rolex resting on his left wrist. You took quick note of the absence of a wedding ring. A very brief rush of unease slid through you, but it was washed away as he moved his hand to his hip, unknowingly flashing the FBI badge that was clipped to his belt loop.

“I’d hate to be an imposition. Plus, we are strangers…” You eyed him once more.

“Right, I uh – I’m Aaron Hotchner.” He introduced himself and offered you his hand to shake.

You shook it gently, giving him your name. You couldn’t help the blush that crept over your cheeks at the warmth radiating from him. It was your turn to feel breathless. Taking him in once more, you had to admit to yourself that he was handsome. Clearly older than you, but you didn’t mind…and age didn’t define beauty.

Aaron had waited the whole forty-five minutes with you, once Triple A showed up, he waited for you to get everything squared away with them before turning to leave.

“So that’s it?”  You called after him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“You just sat and waited forty-five minutes with me and you’re just going to leave? Without asking me out? Or at least asking for my phone number?” You huffed.

Aaron was speechless. He had wanted to ask you out…truthfully he’d thought about it the moment you stepped out of your car, but he didn’t want you to fell that he was some sort of predator. But now here you were, this gorgeous little thing, asking him to ask you out.

“Would you go to dinner with me Friday? Provided my work doesn’t call me away.” He asks.

“Yes. Pick me up at seven.” You smiled, handing him a light pink business card.

--

Initially, Aaron didn’t introduce you to anyone because he wanted to see if your relationship would bloom into something real. As things did progress, he opened up to you about his life, his job, his family…and his demons. He hadn’t wanted to let his darkness taint your light, your sparkle, but one night while he was staying with you, he’d had a brutal nightmare, one that had him spewing all the information out to you while you held him close, your sparkle shining bright.

Another reason why Aaron had hesitated to really bring you into his world was because you were so different than the other women he’d dated. They were grown-up, mature (maybe even too mature), boring even, and here you were, this pastel princess whose home was filled with pink – ruffled pillows, lace curtains, fashion books, flowers, fluffy rugs, etc. you were the textbook definition of a girly-girl.

He was sure the BAU team would have some pretty strong opinions about his relationship with you, not only because of your differences, but also because of the almost 20-year age gap. It sounded silly, but he really wanted the team to like you.

The first time Aaron introduced you to the team hadn’t exactly gone as he had hoped. He had asked you to join them out at their favorite bar for drinks. They had put on quite the show in front of you, but when you stepped away to get a drink, the truth came out.

--

“Hey guys, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my girlfriend to join us.” Aaron mentioned casually.

A chorus of “what” and “you have a girlfriend” and “who is she” all rang out at once. He couldn’t help but chuckle at them. He figured he should answer some of their questions now so that way they could focus on getting to know you once you arrived.

“She and I have been together for about six months. It’s getting pretty serious and, uh – she uh…” Aaron smiles to himself. “She um, she’s different than the other girls I’ve dated, so just keep an open mind and get to know her.”

You arrived about ten minutes later, rendering everyone speechless. You walked in with a light pink mini puff dress on. It flowed around you in a cloud of tulle it rested against your upper thighs which were adorned in sparkly nude tights. You’d chosen to wear white lace up heels with it, and your hair was pulled back, pinned up with loose tendrils framing your face.

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, a client called last minute and, you totally do not want to hear about my boring work.” You sighed, meeting the gazes of the stunned agents seated before you.

Aaron had officially introduced you to everyone, they exchanged hesitant pleasantries, and you began making small talk. After a few awkward moments, you excused yourself to get a drink.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aaron asked.

“No, no. I got it honey. I’ll get you another whiskey.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked toward the bar.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the questions came rolling in. Most notably, Dereks.

“What the hell are you doing man?”

“I beg your pardon?” Aaron was shocked.

“Hotch, man, she’s young enough to be your daughter. And I mean, look at her.” Derek gestured toward where you stood at the bar.

“I am well aware of her age Morgan. She and I have discussed that at length and have both agreed that it didn’t matter. Age doesn’t change how we feel about one another.”

“Hotch, I’m more worried about the fact that she looks like she just walked off of sorority row.” Emily shook her head.

“Yeah, her outfit…Hotch she’s not serious. I mean she’s still a kid.” JJ added.

“That’s enough, she and I are serious. She’s not a kid; she runs a very successful consulting firm, she is kind and sweet, she takes care of me, she gets along with Jack, and I and…well. I love her.” Aaron concluded.

A muffled remark sounded from across the table. Morgan had more to say, and Aaron wasn’t going to let it go. He cared about you and the people across from him were his family, their opinions meant a lot to him…but right now they were letting him down.

“Say it out loud Morgan.” Aaron demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Say it.” Aaron hissed.

“I said she gets along with Jack because they’re closer in age.” Derek shot back.

The table went silent, tension filling the air. Aaron scoffed, shook his head in disbelief, and walked away. Moving towards you, coming up with some lame excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Look, I know that was a lot, but I didn’t say anything that we weren’t all thinking. That girl, she’s a bimbo. Hotch needs someone more serious…more like Beth.” Derek justified.

“Wow.” Penelope scoffed, pushing her chair away from the table. “You guys are terrible.”

“What are you talking about?

“Did you not see his face? Hotch is happy, his smile took over his entire face…because of that girl and you all tore him down so quickly. I mean come on. Spence when was the last time Hotch smiled like that?” Penelope asked.

“The last time Hotch has smiled like that in front of us was back in 2005 when he introduced Jack to the team as a newborn.”  Spencer rattled off.

--

That was about eight months ago. Aaron and you have grown even more serious since then, you moved in together – into a new house where you could set up a space that was all your own, full of pink and ruffles and lace.

Honestly, Aaron had gone as far as buying a ring for you. He wanted to propose and had the whole thing planned. He and Jack were going to take you on a picnic and then they’d ask you to become a permanent part of their family.

Despite the happiness he felt at the idea of marrying you, he couldn’t help the disappointment that crept in. He wanted his family to all be there in support of you two…and his family, well that was the BAU.

He knew he’d have to talk to them, to do something to prove to them how incredible you are.

--

Aaron had called everyone to the round table. He needed to tell them about how serious he really was about you, and he needed them to love you.

 “I asked you all here because today we will have a special guest for lunch.” Aaron went on to explain that you’d be coming in, bringing in lunch from one of the BAU’s favorites. “I know that when you all first met her, you were unsure. But I need you all to realize that I’ve been with her for over a year now, we live together, and…”

“You can’t be serious man. She’s naïve, just some young hot thing seeking an older man, presumably for his money.” Derek interrupted.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Aaron commanded. “I plan on marrying her, and you guys are my family. I need my family there when I marry this woman. If you can’t get on board…then I guess you aren’t the people I thought you were.” Aaron says with finality.

There was a collective nod and shrug amongst everyone.

--

When you walked in, you could feel the tension like a thick fog. It was all consuming, like picking a hangnail until that piece of skin runs further and further up your finger, bleeding and tender.

You needed this to go well.

Aaron had told you to be your usual self. He wanted the team to like you for you, but you knew it would be best to tone it down at least a little bit. You’d choose to wear light blue jeans, a chunky pink sweater, and some heeled ballet flats. Your arms were juggling multiple bags, filled with sandwiches and another one with drinks for everyone.

“Hi guys.” You offered a small wave as you entered the conference room.

“Hey sweetheart, let me help you with those.” Aaron was quick to grab the bags from you.

“You look stunning as always! It’s good to see you again!” Penelope greeted.

“Oh, thanks babe! I love the new hair; it is such a good color!” You complimented. “Oh, Spence, I got you something!” You pulled a wrapped book from your bag, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He asked, gently pulling at the wrapping. “The Narrative of John Smith, this is one of my favorites!” Spencer gushed.

“It’s a special edition, they only made 200 of them. But that’s not the best part…open the cover.” You were giddy with excitement.

Spencer opened the book to reveal that it had been signed. “Are you kidding me! This is amazing, thank you so much!”

“It’s really no problem.” You smiled.

Aaron was beaming at you, you had been so kind, showing them all who you really were, and he just hoped that they’d all finally see you for who you truly are.

As everyone finished their lunch, you began clearing the trash. Everyone offers thanks to you, the girls planning a day out with you. Each of them seemed to be coming around except for Derek. Aaron couldn’t figure out why he was so against you.

--

You said your goodbyes and made your way out. They had all filtered out of the conference room when Aaron decided to confront Derek once and for all.

“Everyone else has come around, so why can’t you? What is your problem with her?” Aaron asked.

“It’s not her that I have a problem with. Not really.” Derek shrugged. “Look man, I am sorry for how I have acted towards her. It’s unacceptable. But I don’t think you dating her is a good idea.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced Morgan. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You think that now Hotch. But what are you going to do when she up and walks away. That is the type of girl who will ruin your life and Hotch, you’ve been hurt too many times. You and Jack have lost far too much.”

“Derek, I know you are worried for me, but I have to see this through. I really love this girl, and she can handle herself, she makes good money, so I know that isn’t the motivation here. She is everything to me, and she has done nothing but prove that she feels the same for me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I have your back man, and if you love her, then I’m not going to stand in your way.”

--

Things began looking up after that. Derek had pushed his concerns aside and took the time to get to know you, which only made him feel like an idiot for his behavior. Aaron had been right, you could hold your own – you were smart and witty and far to quick with your words, giving him a run for his money. Derek started to see how big your heart was, and he saw the changes in Aaron thanks to your presence in his life. He started to actually appreciate you and your love for his boss.

Aaron told you about his interaction with Derek and you offered some valuable insight.

“Honey, Derek looks up to you. You have made a huge impact on his life, and he has seen you lose so much because of your work, he’s seen you in, quite literally, your lowest moment. He just wants to protect you from hurting like that once again.”

“You are the smartest person I know sweetheart.” Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple.

--

Months later, the BAU team stood and witnessed Aaron and you vowing to spend forever with one another. You had finally been welcomed into this family.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust@khxna@crimesthatnooneaskedfor

[astonmartinii]

rookie love | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x hamilton!reader

sure it's a rookie mistake to lose it in a corner, but is it a rookie mistake to fall in love with lewis hamilton's younger sister?

request from the lovely @starfriuts

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

f1

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,324,772 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, yourusername & logansargeant

f1: welcome the rookie class of 2023 !! 2021 f2 champion oscar piastri will race for mclaren, 2022 f2 champion y/n hamilton will be racing for aston martin and 2022 f2 runner up logan sargeant will be racing for williams!

view all comments

user1: MY prema girlies

user2: 2019 rookies i am so sorry but there's a new favourite in town

yourusername: two hamiltons on the grid i know that's right 💅 👯‍♀️

lewishamilton: they hate us cause they ain't us

yourusername: they can't handle the sass

lewishamilton: neither can the fia

yourusername: ... yeah i've been briefed :(

user3: okay, walk with me. if y/n does all of grill the grid, lewis might do the secret santa again

user4: hopes and prayers

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm teammates with a rookie hamilton, i think i've seen this film before

yourusername: i lived through that old man, don't think i won't use your own tricks on you

fernandoalo_oficial: well there's no dna test necessary here

yourusername: the slay is hereditary, but clearly skipped your generation

fernandoalo_oficial: HEY

oscarpiastri: get her jade

fernandoalo_oficial: EY?

user5: the way the grid are not ready for how ride or die y/n and oscar are for each other

user6: bro just quoted COCO MONTRESE for her i am so ready

logansargeant: dude we're getting the band back together

oscarpiastri: f1 boyband have nothing on us

yourusername: xnda who?

lewishamilton: :/

yourusername: no one is safe sorry lew @charles_leclerc you're next piano boy

charles_leclerc: WHAT

user7: i know the aston martin pr department sweating buckets with both fernando and y/n

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton and 1,332,551 others

yourusername: the hamilton name comes with the wardrobe

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user8: finally lewis has some competition

user9: if there's something a hamilton is going to do it's going to be wearing a monochromatic outfit.

lewishamilton: was the third photo really necessary?

yourusername: yes!

lewishamilton: you're so corny

yourusername: i know this man ain't speaking.... DIGITAL FOOTPRINT

lewishamilton: girl. i've read your diary and your code names don't mean SHIT

yourusername: YOU WHAT?

lewishamilton: got bored when you had a work call ?

yourusername: come to aston's hospitality i got something to show you

lewishamilton: just text me

yourusername: no. spoiler: it's my FOOT up your ASS

user10: so i thought the tussles would be between fernando and y/n not y/n and lewis

georgerussell63: this is just how they are, they'll be besties again in like two minutes

oscarpiastri: why is my outfit not on here you said i slayed :(

yourusername: you did slay !!

landonorris: he literally wore a team shirt and chinos

yourusername: yes but on the oscar scale that is a slay

oscarpiastri: exactly

landonorris: ok?

yourusername: watch your tone mr. norris, you're being awfully loud for a ripped skinny jeans owner 🤨

landonorris: ????

oscarpiastri: :)

user11: okay i think i get the whole ride or die thing now

logansargeant: believe me it gets worse

lewishamilton

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 1,844,902 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: bucket list moment ticked off to share a podium in f1 with my baby sister !!

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user14: two hamiltons in f1 and on the podium before gta 6

user15: we got two hamiltons on the podium but still can't escape a max win

yourusername: thank you for not posting the picture of me bawling my eyes out

lewishamilton: i thought i'd be nice, just this once. i'm proud of you

yourusername: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu. insane to be on the podium with my biggest idol

maxverstappen1: y/n that's very kind of you

lewishamilton: really?

yourusername: 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭

maxverstappen1: saw the opportunity and had to go for it

yourusername: i respect that

lewishamilton: but i am your biggest idol right?

yourusername: yes.

user16: max really out here like i will make a double hamilton podium about me LOL

oscarpiastri: that's my best friend GO BEST FRIEND

yourusername: oscar piastri podium coming soon @mclaren get ur shit together

oscarpiastri: PR KNOW SHE DOESN'T MEAN THAT

yourusername: no i mean every word i wanna be on the podium with oscar :(

oscarpiastri: slumber party ?

yourusername: i'll be there @logansargeant u coming?

logansargeant: i don't really feel like third wheeling

this comment was deleted

logansargeant: if you're buying the room service - yeah

user17: LOGAN WE SAW THAT

user18: y/n x oscar truthers we have some more evidence for the board

user19: gets first woman in f1 on the podium... immediately assumes she’s in a relationship with another driver

user20: i see where you're coming from but watch the prema videos and tell me there's no tension there

user21: idk if oscar can handle all of that ...

user22: i have faith in my goofy lil guy

liked by yourusername

user22: WHAT

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 612,094 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: pookie was on the podium

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user23: okay you shipper bitches may have had a point...

yourusername: when pookie calls you pookie you know it's real

fernandoalo_oficial: i have never felt older than when i listen to you and oscar talk for more than five minutes

yourusername: the girls who get it, get it

oscarpiastri: and the girls who don't.... well

fernandoalo_oficial: i am a 42 year old man

yourusername: and it shows

oscarpiastri: ... oop

user24: oh they annoying... KEEP GOING

lewishamilton: so this is what you left the after party for?

yourusername: yeah and what about it?

lewishamilton: okay like maybe i need to separate you and oscar cause why are you eating me up

yourusername: i'm me but oscar is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse

oscarpiastri: guilty as charged (i learnt everything from your sister)

user25: you guys acting like oscar being like this is a surprise ... we didn't all see him scalp alpine last summer?

user26: the way in my head him and y/n wrote that tweet together and were giggling the whole time

yourusername: we can neither confirm or deny

user27: that's confirmation to me

logansargeant: when will the logan sargeant erasure end?

yourusername: when you serve as much as me?

logansargeant: i am TRYING

yourusername: plus this is an appreciation post for me, stop trying to steal opportunities from women

logansargent: HUH?

oscarpiastri: so disappointing from you logan...

logansargeant: i'm so done with you two

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,309,562 others

yourusername: summer break is annoying i wanna go racing again

view all comments

user31: WHO IS THAT MAN?

user32: my brain (psychosis) tells me it is oscar

user33: i'll believe you

lewishamilton: HOW DARE YOU SOFT LAUNCH WITHOUT TELLING ME

yourusername: girl. sort the tone and i'll call you

lewishamilton: do you think i am dumb? i know exactly who that is, i just need the confirmation so i can beat his ass

yourusername: why would i tell you if you're gonna beat his ass?

lewishamilton: JUST TELL ME

yourusername: you'll have to find me to do that, see you in zandvoort xxx

user34: i think lewis is having brocedes flashbacks

user35: i know bro is PACING

fernandoalo_oficial: you wanna give me a tow in qualifying?

yourusername: why would i do that old man?

fernandoalo_oficial: @lewishamilton i know.

lewishamilton: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FERNANDO KNOWS?

yourusername: NOT ON PURPOSE HE'S JUST NOSEY AND LIKES TO READ MY TEXTS OVER MY SHOULDER

fernandoalo_oficial: guilty 💅

yourusername: fine. one tow.

fernandoalo_oficial: thanks girly

user36: we have to study the girlypopification of fernando since being teammates with y/n

oscarpiastri: it's missing pookie hours

yourusername: i am having separation anxiety

user37: these hoes think we don't know 😂

user38: they think they're throwing us on their scent ... YALL NOT SUBTLE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 802,778 others

oscarpiastri: does this count as a win?

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user39: sorry max we got an oscar win we don't care about your championship win

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO POOKIE

oscarpiastri: slumber party is gonna eat i fear (why do we have to race tomorrow?)

yourusername: you know who else ate? YOU TODAY

oscarpiastri: hehehehe i guess i did

yourusername: no i am so fucking proud of you

oscarpiastri: love you

yourusername: luv you too

user40: okay so they're just playing with our feelings now?

landonorris: proud of you bro (please turn down the beyonce)

oscarpiastri: don't make me enter my lemonade era

landonorris: are you threatening me with a brocedes?

oscarpiastri: maybe?

yourusername: lmao watch your ass lando, i gave him the play-by-play i was in the brocedes trenches

lewishamilton: 1. happy for you oscar 2. SHUT THE FUCK UP

oscarpiastri: oops?

yourusername: sorry lewis, we'll stop joking about britney if you finally call him

nicorosberg: stop calling me that

lewishamilton: why are you here?

nicorosberg: just observing...

user41: poor lewis having his trauma used as a joke 😭

logansargeant: i'm defo skipping this slumber party

user42: you want to elaborate?

logansargeant: no. i don't think i will

user43: JUST SPILL

yourusername

liked by lewishamilton, oscarpiastri and 1,903,448 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: got my first win, me and my boyfriend are better than you x

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user44: I FUCKING KNEW IT

user45: i'm gonna need all the bitches who came for me for shipping them so give me my flowers

oscarpiastri: finally. you're too cute not to kiss all the time

yourusername: then hurry up and come here

oscarpiastri: gladly

user46: no i think he actually went, these bitches usually never shut the fuck up

lewishamilton: ...

georgerussell63: oscar RUN THE BREATHING TECHNIQUES AREN'T WORKING

alexalbon: no he's actually going to scrap you RUN FOR YOUR LIFE

landonorris: those dumbasses don't know what is about to hit them

yourusername: why is logan texting me 911 who is being dramatic

yourusername: wait

yourusername: is that him already

georgerussell63: yes for such a short man he's surprisingly fast

lewishamilton: OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR

yourusername: no!

lewishamilton: I JUST WANNA TALK

oscarpiastri: your tone is scaring me

yourusername: OSCAR NO

lewishamilton: OPEN THE DOOR

user47: it's been 20 mins, can we have an update

oscarpiastri: i am alive!

lewishamilton: regardless of what just happened, i am so proud of you y/n !!

yourusername: i love you big brother :))))))

lewishamilton: you're such an inspiration, here's to many more!

user48: lewis being all supportive now after he's scrapped oscar?

lewishamilton: i didn't fight him, he had 30 seconds to convince me not to kill him

oscarpiastri: i did very well :)

lewishamilton: sure

yourusername: you did great babe

oscarpiastri: :)

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, yourusername and 1,099,457 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: please don't put me into the barriers lewis, i love your sister

view all comments

user51: i think it's safe to say that the 2023 rookies have out done the 2019 rookie sorry not sorry

yourusername: POOKIE, I LOVE YOU POOKIE

oscarpiastri: I LOVE YOU TOO POOKIE

logansargeant: can i like have a medal or some championship points for 1. dealing with this nonsense and 2. keeping this a secret

yourusername: you're our favourite third wheel? that's all i got

oscarpiastri: we also pay for your room service every time

logansargeant: ... fine

user52: they're all so close to me, need y/n and oscar to be the first husband and wife to both win a championship

yourusername: that's the plan 🤞

oscarpiastri: are you PROPOSING TO ME?

yourusername: not yet...

oscarpiastri: hehehehehehe

lewishamilton: SLAM ON THE BRAKES, I JUST GOT USED TO THIS LET'S NOT BRING UP MARRIAGE

yourusername: maybe you need to leave your slag era so i can wife oscar

lewishamilton: DO NOT SLUTSHAME ME

user53: the hamilton piastri house about to be ground zero for the sassy man apocalypse

landonorris: you people are so grossly in love, how did we miss it?

alexalbon: speak for yourself it was so obvious

yourusername: we we're pretty obvious

oscarpiastri: yeah i can confirm that when we told you we were having a pillow fight, we were not

landonorris: WHAT

lewishamilton: delete this.

fernandoalo_oficial: @yourusername did you guys do this so you didn't have to give me a tow?

yourusername: yes xoxoxo

note: i hope you enjoy. life is insane right now but i got my first article at the top of the google rankings so there's that. also ordered my graduation gown and dress!! much love x

[luveline]

Hi honey! I hope you’re taking care of yourself ❤️ I love love LOVE how you write! Can I please request bombshell reader x Spencer telling the team she’s pregnant 💕

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

“Spencer?” 

Your quiet tone has his attention faster than any shouting would’ve; he expects high energy from you, and your murmur scares him half to death. He backtracks from the bathroom with his toothbrush still in his mouth, toothpaste dripping down his fingers as he yanks it out and asks, “What?” 

“Is this okay?” 

You chew your lip and turn to the side, illuminating your problem with a hand framed under your tummy. Your skin peeks out from the bottom of your shirt. 

The wonder of you is that you’ve always been beautiful, always, in Spencer’s eyes at least if not the entire world’s, because of how you present yourself, and of course because of your big heart. Your smile, the way you talk, all of it is beautiful and, most of the time, measured. Your clothes are carefully picked, and now you’re changing and your clothes need to change with it —your bump has appeared faster than Spencer realised it would, and you haven’t had time to upgrade your wardrobe. The cases are endless and you’d been more interested in doctor’s appointments and house viewings than clothes shopping.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks, perhaps a bit useless, white frothy paste sliding down his chin. 

You smile momentarily, nervous on your feet as you adjust your shirt. “I think I look very pregnant.” 

Spencer goes back into the bathroom to finish brushing.  “You look mildly pregnant,” he agrees loudly over the rush faucet. He spits, wipes his face, and rinses his toothbrush. 

“Compared to my usual non-pregnant look, I mean,” you say. 

“It’s just that shirt’s a little tight,” he promises. “We’ll find something.” 

You probably aren’t going to find something, you both realise. You stand in front of him in one of your soft bralettes, the ‘S’ of your pendant on your rising chest, shirtless and likely to stay that way. “Oh,” he says, tapping your bump gently with his knuckle. “Maybe it got bigger overnight.” 

“I think so,” you agree, taking his hand where it hovers to press to the top of the slope of the bump. You’re holding his hand more than you’re protecting the bump, a perplexed frown on your lips as you kneed his fingers in yours. 

“We don’t have time to go to the store, but we could be late,” he says. 

“What if we have a case?” 

“That’s a better reason to go shopping.” 

You pout for a kiss, leaning up to press your lips to his wry smile. “No. Do you still have that maroon sweater? The one that didn’t fit you right, with the v-neck?” 

Spencer helps you into said sweater though you don’t need his assistance, smoothing down the wrinkles carefully. It hides the too-short hem of your white shirt underneath, and paired with the collar, Spencer couldn’t be more in love with you. “You’re dressed like me five years ago,” he says. 

“Like it?” you flirt, your cheeks apples with your smug smile, your hands under your chin.

“You really are glowing.” 

“Don’t tempt me into kissing you stupid,” you say, still flirting, voice dipping into that warm, sweet place that probably caused the bump between you in the first place. 

“You’re lucky I don’t kiss you stupid,” he jokes, putting an arm around you for a quick hug. “Too bad we need to work to save to buy a stupid house instead.” 

“Have a stupid baby,” you mumble happily, your face pressed to his chest. He kisses your cheek. 

You’re both in incredible moods when you finally make it to work, tethered together from the parking lot to the elevator to the BAU office. There’s been a lot more hand holding since you found out you were pregnant, though you’re trying to keep it private just a little bit longer. Hotch gets antsy about pregnant people in the field (though he’d never force you to stay home), and the others can tend to be overbearing. 

You are excited to tell them. Spencer’s your family, the team is as good as, and they’ll all be so, so happy for you. At first you’d been waiting for the twelve week milestone for practicality’s sake, but now you’re just waiting for the right time. 

“Clothes get lost in the move?” Morgan asks. 

You aren’t telling them about the pregnancy, but you’re honest about other things. They know you’ve moved in with Spencer, and that you’re looking for a house. Morgan would’ve been offended if you hadn’t told him. He’d offered up a bunch of his properties to you both for viewing and promised a very good family and friends price point, but they hadn’t been perfect enough. It’s just a starter house, he’d argued, mostly unoffended at your pickiness. 

He doesn’t realise that you and Spencer wanna raise a baby, and you want as perfect a home as possible for at least the toddler years before you start looking to move up the ladder. A family home. 

“Very funny,” you praise, letting Spencer pull back your chair for you as you sit down. You feel the new extra roundness of your bump and wonder why nobody else has noticed it either. Spencer certainly can’t stop looking at it. You catch him all the time, and at night, alone and in bed, you let him run his hand up and down the hill of it, clearly amazed. 

“It looks good on you, mama,” Morgan says. 

You laugh. “Doesn’t everything?” you ask with an exaggerated smirk. 

“Yes,” Spencer says. 

You dip your head back in your chair. “This is why I love you.” 

“Devotion,” Spencer guesses, wiping at a smudge of makeup under your eye tenderly. 

You put your hand on your stomach. It’s weird how things change and don’t at the same time. You feel like you love him so much more now you’re a family with him, but you loved him endlessly before. Moments like this were plentiful and warm as sunshine, the undulating care in his touch a practised exercise at this point. You let your eyes close. He strokes your cheek. 

“Hotch wants everyone in the conference room,” JJ says, announcing herself and her towering cup of coffee as she breezes past the bullpen. 

You follow her upstairs to the conference room. Rossi, Hotch and Penelope are already waiting, everyone accompanied by their own creature comfort (coffee, coffee, and tea, respectfully). You and Spencer take seats opposite Hotch and Rossi, hands held together as always, his left in your right, his thumb kind against your knuckles. 

“The jet is still pre-loading from last time, so we can’t leave until late tonight, but we will be leaving,” Hotch begins, nodding at Penelope. “Until then, we’ll work the case from here.”

She nods back and clicks onto some severely disgusting photographs. 

You work through the facts together. Emily arrives late with apologies soon forgiven, your team a well-oiled machine. Of course, without being there, there’s only so much you can do, but it’s never not useful to have these discussions and to spitball with one another. 

Spencer gets stuck in his head. You fight the urge to kiss his cheek as he’d kissed yours this morning and decide on a more work appropriate show of affection, popping down to the kitchenette to make him a cup of coffee. 

You aren’t drinking coffee or anything caffeinated for the baby. You aren’t thirsty, but Spencer will worry if you don’t make yourself a drink too. You fill a glass with water from the sink and make your way back up the steps to the conference room. 

“It looks like there’s a racial motivation,” Spencer’s saying to Morgan. 

“Sure, but with only two victims so far, it could be coincidence,” Emily says. 

“Or not,” JJ says with a frown. 

“I think our killer would show it more, if it were,” you suggest, “there’s usually some aspect of overkill with hate crimes we aren’t seeing here.” 

You put the cup of coffee down in front of Spencer and sit in your chair. The sleeves on his sweater are too long. You push them up for the tenth time. 

“That’s Spencer’s?” Emily asks, having noticed your struggle.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been sort of scatterbrained, I forgot to put a load in the dryer.” 

“Is your go bag ready?” Hotch asks. 

No. “Yeah, it’s fine. You don’t like my new look?” 

“I’ve never known you to wear clothes that don’t fit,” Morgan says.

“What are you trying to say, Derek?” you ask, propping your face in your chin. 

“You’re getting sloppy in your old age.” 

You turn to Spencer, beaming, and he shakes his head at you immediately. 

“And what’s with the water?”

Your smiling turns deer-in-the-headlights. “What?” 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Morgan prompts. 

That piques the interest of Emily and Hotch simultaneously, but you know you’re caught when realisation colours JJ’s gaze. She stares straight at your glass, then your face. You can practically see her profiling your behaviour these last few weeks, the sudden trips to the bathroom, the worse than usual reluctance to be away from Spencer, and the sudden propensity for safer practice in the field. 

You smile. You’re caught. You see Hotch’s expression and know he knows it, too. 

You give Spencer a little nudge with your thigh, as though telling him, You say it. You know he wants to. 

“You can’t have more than three hundred milligrams of caffeine when you’re pregnant,” Spencer says, his pride unmissable in the slight lift of his chin, “it disrupts midterm foetal growth. Our baby might come out too small, which isn’t what we want, obviously, so she can’t drink coffee. Not for another six months, at least.” 

“Wha– wha– what?” Penelope asks, the physical manifestation of a kettle about to boil over, excitement bubbling and raring to explode as she grips the table. “You’re pregnant?” 

“With Spencer?” Emily asks, though she’s laughing before she’s finished. 

You frame his cheek with one hand and lean in to kiss it gently. “Who else?” you ask. 

The best part is watching everybody hug Spencer. You’re happy they love you and you accept their congratulations and their love with pleasure, but seeing a room full of people thrilled for him finally getting the life he’s wanted, and knowing you’re at least part of the reason, is pretty sweet. You put your hand on your baby bump and take a mental picture of him under Morgan’s arm, his cheeks pink, his smile achingly wide. 

Still, he cuts through his moment to reach for you. “Maybe someone else will be able to convince you to slow down,” he says, hand moving to your stomach protectively. 

You pretend to think it over. “Maybe in a month or two.” 

[neeeooon]

Hi, can you do like blue lock jealous headcanons? with karasu, ness and whoever else u want idm!

Thank youu💗💗💗

i tend to mix and confuse “jealousy” and “possessive/protectiveness” so i’m sorry if this is repetitive with my stalker hc, but thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy! 💗

when they’re jealous ;

jealous bf bllk x gn!reader

karasu tabito

-> of all the players on team blue lock, karasu knew he shouldn’t waste his time feeling jealous of otoya. and yet watching the boy flirt shamelessly with you made his blood boil

-> you seemed pretty guarded as he smirked at you, keeping your arms tight to your chest

-> karasu was going to let it go, knowing you could take care of yourself if you felt uncomfortable, but then otoya decided to show you one of his ninja moves. specifically, the one where he presses a hand against the wall beside your head, and karasu is on his feet

-> you shove otoya’s hand away before he can caress your cheek right as karasu presses a hand against his chest, pushing him off of you. when otoya catches the murderous look in his teammate’s eye, he scrambles off

-> “why did you wait to push him off?” karasu doesn’t know why he’s asking. he knows you and otoya are friends, but his stomach twists with jealousy

-> you can’t smile as you gingerly take your boyfriend’s hand in yours. “he was only messing around, and when he got too close, i made sure he knew it. you don’t have to doubt me, honey.”

-> “it’s not you i don’t trust. it’s him.” but now he’s sulking as he glares at otoya, and you’re able to giggle a bit. “you’re so cute when you’re jealous~”

alexis ness

-> ness wishes his mind didn’t assault him as he watched you interact with other people. other guys. who were taller and stronger and more confident than him. you didn’t agree with any of that, but ness’s mind didn’t know that

-> to make matters worse: you’re a sweetheart. it’s one of the things ness loves most about you, but he sees how your innocent kindness can look to others sometimes, and the way it makes them look at you

-> “oh, wow! i love your shirt! it’s a great color on you,” you complimented the cashier as you and ness check out. the cashier, obviously seeing that you’re together, simply smiled and thanked you back

-> but the damage is done. ness is second guessing his outfit. his colors. his entire wardrobe. why didn’t you love his shirt? was it not a good color? did you think—

-> “ness?” your soft voice broke him from his destructive thoughts, and ness feels sick with envy. he hates jet, but he knows he can’t keep it from you. “i-is there something wrong with my shirt..?”

-> and you melt. “aw, baby! are you jealous? don’t worry, i love you and your shirt more than anyone i compliment. i promise!” and ness smiles, because he believes you 100%

itoshi rin

-> rin hates that he’s jealous of his teammates. he hates feeling lower than them, but more than anything, he hates the way they make your face light up with laughter

-> he watches as your eyes crinkle at something bachira said, how you playfully shove isagi when he says something next

-> rin doesn’t know what he’s doing until he’s stalking over to you, his hand wrapping tight around your wrist, and pulling you away from the boys. “rin, wh—“ but his grip tightens and your words faulter

-> he pulls you into an empty locker room before releasing you, and you throw your arms over your chest. “what the hell? we were just talking—“ “you were laughing.”

-> you blink. “so? am i not allowed to laugh?” “not at something they say,” rin mumbles out, leaning heavily against the door and dropping his head so that his bangs shield his eyes.

-> but you get it now. “you’re jealous,” you say, and it’s not a question. rin doesn’t defend himself, which only confirms your suspicion. so, you step forward and take his face between your hands

-> “it’s okay to be jealous, love, but don’t let it trick you into thinking i’m not happy or don’t love you. got it?” “i’m sorry.” “don’t be sorry! come on, join and laugh with us.” “… fine.”

michael kaiser

-> envy is a sin, and kaiser is feeling pretty sinful as he watches you interact with your male friend while waiting to pick you up

-> he lets you talk and laugh for a good ten seconds before blaring on the horn, causing you and your friend to jump in surprise. you smile when you see kaiser’s car, but he doesn’t return the look through his windshield

-> “are you okay?” you ask as you climb into the car, immediately sensing his tension. kaiser gives a curt nod. “mhm.” “you don’t seem okay..?” “i’m fine, y/n.”

-> you don’t push and let him have his moment until he pulls in front of your house. sighing, you sink into the passenger seat cushions. “i’m not leaving until you tell me what’s bothering you. you know i hate when you go quiet on me…”

-> he does. tightening his grip around the steering wheel, kaiser finally looks at you. “who was that guy you were laughing with? must be some comedian, the way you were gasping for air.”

-> “you mean shidou? my friend? cause that’s all he is: a friend.” you put heavy emphasis into the word friend when you realize kaiser is jealous. he has no reason to be, but you can’t say that since he can’t relate when he doesn’t have many friends

-> “yeah. that guy.” “baby, come on, don’t be like that… he was telling me a funny story about his boyfriend.” kaiser blinks. “boyfriend?” “yes.” “he’s gay?” “yes.” “so… he isn’t interested in you? romantically?“ you try so hard not to laugh and your jealous boyfriend. “no. he isn’t interested into me romantically.” “oh, thank god.”