#this season is different than the others they are trying different approaches and i understand if ppl feel less than + abt it

[verstappenverse]

The Price of the Podium

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: In the relentless pursuit of racing glory, Max faces the emotional fallout of missing an important weekend in his relationship, leaving your future uncertain.

1.5k words / Masterlist

Max's heart raced as the engine of his RedBull roared beneath him. The familiar hum had become a source of comfort, a steady rhythm that guided him through countless laps and countless victories. But today it felt different—a harbinger of an approaching storm that threatened to dismantle everything he held dear.

The season had been merciless. Each race had been a relentless pursuit of perfection, each lap a battle against time and competitors. Max understood that this world demanded sacrifices but lately the weight of those sacrifices had become different.

When Max glanced at his phone during a fleeting moment of respite his stomach dropped as a surge of guilt swept over him. A string of missed calls and urgent messages from you filled the screen, each one more desperate than the last.

Hey, can you please call me when you get a chance? I need to talk to you.

Max, you’re really starting to worry me. I don’t understand what's going on?

It’s been three days since we spoke properly. Can you at least let me know you’re okay?

Max’s gaze fell on the calendar, he had promised again to visit your extended family this weekend a significant step for you both that had been previously filled with excitement and anticipation. Your family were eager to meet him, and Max had been looking forward to it as well. But now, with the punishing schedule of the season, he was struggling to find even a moment to breathe, let alone make the trip.

He knew he was being a coward, but it was easier to avoid the situation than confront it directly and risk letting down the person who mattered most.

As Max approached the racetrack for another testing session, the weight of his choices hit him like a sledgehammer. He was about to miss an important milestone in your life together and he didn't think you'd be so forgiving this time.

His mind was full of conflicting emotions. He wanted to be there for you, to prove to your family that he was serious about your relationship. But the world of racing had a way of consuming everything in its path leaving no room for personal commitments.

The testing session was a blur. Max’s driving was flawless, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The track blurred into an endless ribbon of asphalt. He pushed himself to the limit, hoping that the adrenaline would drown out the guilt gnawing at his conscience.

Finally, the session ended. Max’s team were in high spirits celebrating the improved performance. He barely registered their enthusiasm, his mind was occupied with the image of you waiting for him in a small town, wondering why he had not shown up. He could picture you there, waiting for him, checking the clock, wondering if he’d even bothered to leave. And it wasn’t just about this weekend—it was about every missed call, every text he hadn’t answered, every promise he’d let slide.

The moment Max stepped out of the car he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone. He dialed your number hoping against hope that you would answer. After a few rings your voice came through the line tinged with weariness and frustration.

“Max?”

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been out of touch.”

“Out of touch? You’ve been completely absent! I was supposed to introduce you to my family this weekend. It was important to me.”

“I know. I wanted to be there, but things just got out of hand here. I’ve been trying to make time, but…”

“But what Max? You keep saying you’re trying, but you’re never here. There's always an excuse.”

“I’m really sorry, I’ve been working so hard this season...I thought I could make it work, I just…”

“You know what? I don’t want to hear more excuses right now. You’ve missed something important to me again, and it hurts. I needed you here, and you weren’t.”

The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, almost unbearable. Max could feel the pain that you were struggling to mask, like a knife twisting in his gut. It cut him deeper than any criticism he’d ever faced on the track.

“Please. I know I messed up, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Make it up to me? I don’t even know if that’s possible anymore. This wasn’t like the other times when you just forgot or lost track of time; you made the choice not to come. I’ve tried to be understanding—I know how hard this season has been, and I know how much time and dedication it takes. I never wanted to undermine that. But I don’t know how much longer we can do this. I get it, you have to make tough choices sometimes, and I’ve done my best to support you, to step back and let you focus on your goals. But it’s happening too often now, and it feels like every time, you’re choosing this..this life over us. Over me. Every single time.”

Max’s throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to explain more, but he also knew that he couldn't keep making excuse for his absence, and he couldn’t bear to hurt you anymore. He’d run out of explanations, out of promises he knew he couldn’t keep. He wanted to say something, anything to fix it, but he could hear the finality in your voice. You’d reached a breaking point, one he’d seen coming but had been too afraid to acknowledge.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally whispered, the words feeling hollow even as he spoke them.

The silence stretched on.

“I understand if you need space.” he murmured, barely able to get the words out, blinking back tears.

Your voice was barely a whisper throat locking up, it felt like he was giving up. Was this even worth fighting for if he wasn't?

Then, in a voice so small it broke his heart all over again, you whispered,“You’re right. Maybe space is what we need right now.'

The line went dead, leaving Max alone in the garage. The celebration of the session’s success felt hollow. The echoes of the track still rang in his ears mingling with the ache of your absence.

In the days that followed Max tried to bury himself in the upcoming races, hoping that the endless rush would drown out the regret gnawing at him. He avoided reaching out to you honouring your request for space. Each day felt like an endless rotation of driving, media commitments, and sleepless nights. The thrill of racing was overshadowed by the growing distance between you and him.

You had always been patient and understanding of the demands of Max’s career. You had supported him through the highs and lows, celebrating his victories and comforting him through the losses, but it hadn’t been enough. Each missed call and unanswered message chipped away at your resolve. You couldn’t keep repeating the same cycles and expecting a different result. The weekend you had planned for Max to meet your family was meant to be a milestone, a step toward a future together. Instead, it felt like a crushing disappointment.

You replayed the conversations you had with Max in your mind, trying to reconcile the man you loved with the absence he had become. You had pictured this weekend as a chance for Max to understand the importance of your family, to see the life you had outside of his world. The hurt and frustration you felt were compounded by a growing sense of doubt—doubt that maybe this life of constant motion had created a rift too wide to bridge.

You needed time to process the hurt, to focus on yourself and figure out where to go from here. The support you had hoped for seemed distant and unreliable, and the future you had envisioned together felt uncertain.

Loving him had been a beautiful dream, but you knew it was time, you hesitated just a moment before hitting send.

Max,

I need you to know that I’m not angry anymore. I’m just… tired. I need to focus on myself right now.

You

Max read the message over and over, his hands trembling. The message was brief and seemingly final. The reality of your words sank in, there was no dramatic declarations, no harsh accusations, just a simple statement of exhaustion, a quiet resignation that tore through him. He wanted to call, to beg you to come back, but he knew it was too late.

As the season drew to a close, Max stood on the podium, the roar of the crowd a distant echo, his gaze searching as if somehow he’d see you there. The trophy was in his hands, but it didn't feel like he had expected. He looked out over the crowd searching for a sense of fulfilment that seemed to elude him, it all felt like ashes without you beside him.

Max only thought of you as he stood amidst the celebrations, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that in the pursuit of his dreams he had sacrificed something far more precious, and wondered if there was a path back to what he had lost.

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[reiding-writing]

hi!! huge congrats on 2k!

I was wondering if I could get a workshop session?

I was thinking early seasons (1 or early 2) spencer who is experiencing extreme jealousy over reader (maybe an ex of hers comes back, or there's someone hitting on her) and he's super confused on why he's feeling like this and goes to someone (likely morgan) is like man. what is wrong with me.

and morgan's like hey. let me touch your hand when I say this. (& is more serious than normal because he knows how powerful of any emotion extreme jealousy can be).

WRONG SUITOR — SPENCER REID!

spencer doesn’t understand why he hates it when you smile at other guys.

spencer reid x reader | fluff | 0.9k | event masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — obliviously jealous spencer is the best spencer

Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling.

It gnawed at him, deep and unfamiliar, every time he glanced over at you.

You were standing near the coffee machine, laughing at something James, a colleague from the field office, had said.

The way you leaned in, smiling, just seemed to prod at something raw in Spencer. His hands fidgeted with the book he wasn’t reading, his mind racing far too fast to keep up.

Jealousy.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? But why? He wasn’t dating you or anything.

You were just... friends.

Sure, he cared about you, more than he would admit, even to himself, but this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him. Not like this.

He watched James’ hand brush your arm, the way you genuinely seemed to enjoy being in his presence and listening to what he had to say, and something inside Spencer tightened.

His breath hitched, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

What was he feeling? Why did it physically hurt? He’d read about jealousy, studied it, even profiled it countless times. But to feel it so intensely terrified him.

It was something that happened to other people, something he’d see from the outside. He wasn’t supposed to feel it himself.

He wasn’t supposed to sit there at his desk like an idiot and think about the fact that you’d never smiled that brightly in his direction or laughed genuinely at one of his dumb science ‘jokes’.

He wasn’t supposed to imagine a sinkhole that swallowed James whole so he’d never have to see you look at him ever again.

He didn’t like it at all.

With his mind spiralling, he pushed away from his desk and made a proverbial beeline for Morgan’s.

He felt a different type of jealousy at how relaxed Morgan seemed—eyes glued to a case file with a pen between his teeth—but his head lifted when Spencer approached, his brows furrowing in concern.

"Hey, pretty boy, what’s up? Why do you look like that?" Morgan tilted his head at the sudden approach, casually leaning back in his chair. Spencer just sighed.

He didn’t know how to start, how to explain his thought process without sounding like an absolute creep or just plain psychotic. He ran a hand through his hair, the discomfort clear in his posture.

"I... I don’t understand what’s wrong with me," Spencer said finally, the frustration spilling into his voice as he glances over in your direction. "Every time I see her with someone else, it’s like—I don’t know—this... this knot in my chest, and I can’t focus. I’ve never felt this before, and I’m not sure why it’s happening now."

Morgan’s eyes followed Spencer’s, expression softening instantly as he caught sight of you. There were sparks of amusement in his eyes, but he knew this wasn’t a time for teasing. He beckoned Spencer a little closer with his hand, letting it rest on his shoulder and giving him a look more serious than Spencer expected.

“Reid…” Morgan sighs like Spencer’s blind, like he’s trying to figure out how to let the news break easily.

“I’m jealous, I know,” Spencer rips off the bandaid for him.

"Hey, man," Morgan presses his lips together sympathetically. "It happens,”

“But why am I jealous-? I don’t—” Spencer cuts himself off frustratedly.

“It's because you care about her, Reid. More than just as a friend.” He paused, watching the realisation flicker across Spencer’s face.

"But—" Spencer stammered, his mind racing. "I don’t—I mean, I’ve never thought about—"

Morgan smiled softly but didn’t let it go. “You have, man. You just didn’t recognize it before now. And that’s okay. But you need to face it, or it’ll eat at you.”

Spencer blinked, his mind whirling, trying to process everything Morgan was saying. Was that it? He had feelings for you? Feelings he had been too blind, or too afraid, to admit?

Morgan squeezed his hand against Spencer’s shoulder with an exasperated sigh. “You gotta figure this out, man. Don’t let it fester. If you care about her, really care, talk to her. Trust me.”

Spencer nodded, but his thoughts were still a mess.

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting Morgan to even take him seriously, let alone offer him genuine advice instead of making fun of him for his apparently glaringly obvious crush on you.

It must be bad.

Spencer glanced over at you again, and this time, instead of just jealousy and frustration, he felt something clearer. Something deeper.

Maybe Morgan was right.

Maybe it was time to stop running from it.

Maybe, it was time to tell you.

[deramin2]

A Quick Guide To Getting Caught Up On Critical Role Fast

This guide is for people who want the fastest way official to get caught up on all 3 Critical Role campaigns without seeing the full actual play episodes. They're all made so that the AP will still be enjoyable later even if you know what happens. There's no "right" way to get into the series, and already having an idea of what happens can even help make the APs more enjoyable and easier to understand.

Summary:

The Legend of Vox Machina

Crit Recap Animated

Exandria: An Intimate History

Critical Role Abridged

Guide:

Campaign 1:

The Legend of Vox Machina on Amazon Prime is the animated adaptation of C1 by the same creators. Sam Riegel said the creative approach is this was the version in av later play. All the important bits are there, but they get to those moments differently.

The Legend of Vox Machina has 3 seasons out now that cover events up through at least episode 85. A 4th season is in the works and will probably cover the final arc.

Campaign 2:

An animated adaptation for Amazon Prime called "Mighty Nein" is in the works, but not out yet.

Crit Role Animated is an older comedic summary series presented by their Lore Keeper that covers the whole campaign in 10 videos. Great if you want the gist.

It's like a history crash course history video meant to get you curious to learn the full story later. Great way to get a sense of who people are and what they've done. Available on YouTube and their streaming platform Beacon.

Exandrian History Review:

Exandria: An Intimate History is a timeline review of key events in world history, starting from the creation.

It was released before Campaign 3 as bonus content. It represents what the average person in Exandria knows about world history up to that point.

Campaign 3:

Critical Role Abridged is the Campaign 3 AP condensed down into 1 to 1.5 hours. It mostly cuts down combat to the narrated results and reduces table chatter and indecisiveness. It's a great way to experience the full campaign.

Critical Role Abridged is coming out 1 a week at a time on YouTube and 2 a week on Beacon. YouTube is currently up to episode 25. Beacon is up to episode 47. The AP is at episode 109. At some point you'll have to switch to full episodes to catch up.

Wiki:

There's also 2 world-class wikis where's you can look up extensive and meticulously cited information about anything you need. I prefer The Encyclopedia Exandria.

Viewing Notes:

An important thing to know about "continuity" in Critical Role is that it takes a more realistic view of how history is passed down through the ages and even dedicated academics will never know the full story or be fully correct. They know versions colored by in-world biases and lost knowledge.

Which is great for you the viewer because any campaign you comes into, the characters don't know most of what happened in past games. What they actually know will come up in game. The players have above table reactions and some subtle in jokes, but try not to act on meta knowledge.

It's structured a lot like reading one history book and then wanting to go back and read more about past events that set the stage for all those things to happen. They've tried to make it easier to come into the story happening now.

I certainly enjoyed watching the full APs from the beginning, and I think you can get a deeper understanding of the story from them, but it takes thousands of hours to catch up on the story that way and it isn't realistic for everyone. Each series builds on the consequences of past events more than they rely on unexpected twists, so already knowing what happens just helps you notice all the little things that led to them. Similar to how Shakespeare's plays are often more enjoyable to watch unfold if you already know the basic plot points going into them.

Happy viewing, and I hope this helps you or someone you know get into this very rich and interesting story!

[barcaatthemoon]

should be me || leah williamson x reader ||

leah gets jealous when the team tease you about the obvious thing going on between you and rachel daly.

you sat silently in your cubby, ignoring the looks of your teammates. this game against aston villa wasn't overly important, no more than any others you'd played this season. still, you were incredibly nervous about it. your captains were all picking up on it, but they had different approaches for trying to help you.

leah tried to comfort you the best that she could, but it was little more than an awkward shoulder pat and reassuring comment. kim was much more motherly in her attempts to calm you down a bit. however, it was unfortunately katie who was the most effective with her knowing and teasing comments.

"are you excited to see your little girlfriend?" katie asked as she nudged you with her elbow. both you and leah snapped your heads towards katie to glare at her. leah's glare was all anger, but yours was annoyance. "she's been asking a lot about you. i think you've really got a chance."

"whatever," you huffed. truthfully, you would have been more than happy going out with rachel. however, there was a slight problem. she wasn't leah. nobody else was leah, and that was why all of your dates led to absolutely nothing. you wanted to be with leah, but leah didn't want to be with you.

"seriously, she's interested," katie told you.

"drop it mccabe," leah grumbled. katie put her hands up in surrender, muttering about how she only wanted to help her friends. katie didn't understand why leah always got so upset whenever arsenal played aston villa. leah and rachel were friends, at least they were until the teams met up. leah was friendlier with her national teammates who played for chelsea than she was with rachel. "you good?"

"i'm fine leah," you promised her. she smiled as she ruffled your hair a bit. you groaned as you tried to fix your hair again. you were just finishing up whenever kim called everybody to huddle up for a quick pre-game pep talk. you knew that arsenal had this game in the bag, but you still appreciated the little boost to everybody's confidence.

"quick hug before we become sworn enemies?" rachel asked. you hadn't expected to see her waiting for you as the team shuffled out of the locker room. admittedly, you had been a bit eager as you launched yourself into her arms. behind you, leah scoffed as she walked past the two of you. "i'd tell you good luck, but my mates would kill me."

"we don't need it anyway." you gave rachel a cheeky smile before you joined your team. the girls all started to tease you a bit as you found your mascot and spot in line. you knew that you had done it to yourself, but their words still made your cheeks burn bright red with embarrassment.

…

arsenal's win over aston villa was unsurprising. you hadn't scored any goals, but your two assists brought you all the pride you could handle. usually, you found yourself right by leah's side after games like this, but katie was excitedly pushing you away from the team. you were about to question her whenever she directed you towards a downtrodden rachel daly.

"go on, give her something to smile about," katie told you. she gave you a good shove, which leah missed. all the blonde saw was you walking over and sitting next to rachel. the two of you sat on the pitch for nearly 10 minutes together before you got up to take a shower.

you liked longer showers, but a good amount of the hot water had been used up. you walked back into the locker room to the stares of your teammates. this time, instead of katie starting the teasing, it was steph and caitlin. even kim joined in, which was when leah finally lost her cool.

"for the love of god, will you lot stop talking about rachel? i am sick and tired of hearing her name! we get it, she's into (y/n) and maybe (y/n)'s into her too!" leah shouted. you flinched as she stormed out of the locker room, slamming the door behind her.

"what the hell was that about?" katie asked as she glanced over towards you. in all honesty, you had no idea what leah was on about. she had never been a big fan of the jokes, but it had never seemed like something that would result in such an outburst.

"(y/n), honey, i think you should talk to leah," kim told you. she placed her hand on the small of your back as she guided you onto your feet. you didn't know why, but you were incredibly nervous as you looked for leah. she wasn't mad at you, but there was a chance that she'd blow up on you too. you didn't want to smother her, but the team had decided that you were the best person to find out what was wrong.

"leah?" you called out as you found her in an empty trainer's room. "can i sit with you?"

"surprised you're not off comforting your little girlfriend," leah grumbled. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion as you stared at her. at the look of confusion on your face, leah suddenly felt a bit guilty. it wasn't you who had been making all the jokes after all. if anything, you were the most innocent in the whole situation. you didn't seem to understand the situation, unlike kim and alessia, who definitely knew all about leah's feelings.

"i don't have a girlfriend. rachel and i are just friends, leah. we grew up in the same neighborhood, we're like sisters," you told her. leah had heard it a million times before, just like most of the team had. "why does it bother you so much whenever they talk about rachel? you two are friends."

"it's not just rachel, it's you and rachel that bother me. this is embarrassing to say out loud, but i get jealous," leah admitted. you didn't understand what leah could possibly have to be jealous about. the two of you weren't dating, and even if you had been, you never ever would have hooked up with rachel. you meant it whenever you said that she was like your sister.

"i'm not yours, so why are you so jealous?" you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice. leah caught onto it, and instead of getting defensive, she decided to play along. if you wanted her to stop, you were more than comfortable telling her so.

"because maybe, i think that you should be mine," leah said. she grabbed onto your jaw and leaned in close enough for you to feel her breath against your lips.

"don't play with me like this," you warned her.

"i'm not playing love," leah told you. you swallowed as your eyes flicked down to her lips. leah caught your gaze and took the hint. she didn't waste any time in teasing you, opting to press her lips against yours instead. you kissed leah back, opening your mouth just enough for the tip of her tongue to dip into your mouth. leah's hands moved to the back of your head as she pulled you even closer.

"take me home." you had been reluctant to break the kiss, but if things had gone any further, you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself. leah seemed to understand that, sighing as she got off of the table.

"not tonight, not yet. i want to do better than that for you. i'll pick you up tomorrow morning for coffee and breakfast. we can see how things go from there, okay?" leah offered.

"i never thought i'd see the day leah williamson turned away such a willing bedmate," you teased.

"trust me, it's not easy by any means, but you deserve better," leah said. you pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks before you leaned in for a final one to her lips. this kiss was softer and sweeter than the one you had just shared, neither one of you pressing too far in any direction. "i'll miss you."

"i never thought you could be such a sap, it's cute."

[roxineedstosleep]

Could you do a snippet for yandere platonic Batfam where reader accidentally gets hurt and is able to hide it for a few days until someone (May be Dick?) finds it and asks / gets upset about it? Love your writing!!! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Hi there!!!

First of all: Thank you sweetie!

It's been a while since I've written, mostly because of the university, I'm about to graduate and I'm crazy because I'm approaching my final exams (I even have to defend my research work to be able to get my bachelor's degree)!

But, I got to thinking a bit about what you have written above… and even more so because I myself am a little bit crashed after my last film shoot for my final year of my degree. And can I just say that being in a bad way and having to hide it is terrible.

So… here goes!

(I'm sorry if I sound a bit comical in this writing, but I think the best way to get over something is to laugh at yourself a bit so you don't think about the pain too much; I hope you enjoy it anyway.)

Disclaimer: I don't know if you've noticed, but English is not my native/mother tongue. Occasionally, when I think too much, I write them in my language and then translate it in a trusted translator. So, if there's a grammatical problem or a strange term, it's the translator's fault.

Let's face it… having a large family is terribly exhausting.

It's never quiet enough, everyone is in everyone else's business, you can't leave your favorite mermelade in the fridge for less than a day. Someone is always occupying the bathroom or using your favorite shampoo or watching something on TV at too much volume and someone is probably occupying your bed at nap time.

Did I mention about meddling too much in other people's business? Yes? Well… triple it.

Having multiple siblings was new.

Having multiple siblings, a father and a butler/grandfather isn't exactly bread and butter either.

It wouldn't be so bad to belong to a large and numerous one if it was your blood family and you had lived with them all your life. I mean, sometimes blood is too thick and you have no choice but to learn to love them or just be nice to each other.

Like I said, it wouldn't be so bad if they were really your family.

But the Waynes were not your family. Not distant relatives or anything like that.

You were just living your life, as quietly as possible… and poof!

New room, new butler/grandfather, pets beyond belief, 4 new male siblings and a father with serious emotional constipation issues. And, to add more salt to your wound…. all have serious abandonment issues and death-related trauma.

After several escape attempts, sleep strikes, hunger strikes and any other kind of protest that an anarchist could be proud of… you realized that it was simply impossible to get out of this without risking the path of death.

Which, to top it all off, was also unreliable because apparently your older brother Jason had revived as well as another of your siblings. So no, dying was also not a viable option to which one could resort in the worst case scenario.

What to do?

Well, not much. Trying not to die of suffocation of affection or finding a way to have privacy while going to the bathroom just seemed to be the best survival tools you could resort to.

What does that entail?

It implies that Tim was going to give you hours and hours of lectures on his latest discovery of a case, even if you don't understand half the things he's told you or mentioned at all.

Richard and Damian trying to teach you new tricks almost every second, taking you to the Zoo or not leaving you alone to go to the bathroom.

That Jason, oh holy cow he is the only one more relaxed, takes you with him on his motorcycle to eat ice cream and to the public library. Without being able to scape, because it seems that you have a kind of GPS inserted in the bone marrow.

(Sometimes you don't know if it's true or not, but sometimes you also felt pain between your bones, almost during the cold seasons, and you didn't want to burst your poor little head thinking of different viable possibilities knowing them. No scars, no remembering anythins about any surgery).

Have a grandfather who will not hesitate to make you cookies, your favorite foods whenever you want … without leaving you aside at any time.

Plus a terribly quiet father, who if he can will carry you for as long as you spend time together, won't let you near the secret basement and enjoys being in the same room with you.

Do you see any privacy in this?

No, because even at the bathroom door would be the pets trying to get in and see you for themselves while you want to do your business.

The worst of that? Titus always judge you when you close the curtains.

As I mentioned and it was clear: Having a large family implies little privacy… Having a large, obsessive family means NO privacy.

So, knowing that you have over 50 nanochips tracking in all your clothes, two security monitors embedded - God knows how - in your body (monitors that only tell you if you are in designated safe place), 20 high definition surveillance cameras in every room and a Great Dane chasing you like a chick …. How the heck do you fall down the stairs and hit your pelvic bone without anyone noticing?

No kidding, how?

And if you had to blame someone for your fall… you'd totally blame Damian for it.

It's not that the kid pushed you down the stairs, but over time he had tamed himself into various things and relaxed into looking his age. You know!!! He started acting like a normal teenager!

What do Damian's kids do at his age? Well, they leave things lying around and have messing around them when they can, of course they do!

You just wanted some yogurt with orange marmalade. Maybe some oatmeal cookies. Alfred had left it for you in the fridge when he noticed you'd been watching video tutorials on homemade marmalade for hours. Who were you to deny such a gesture of generosity?

I mean, Alfred was the one who allowed you to hide in the attic for hours on end so you could have some time to yourself.

And how did it end? You, slipping down the main stairs of the old Wayne mansion, down a nicely polished wooden staircase, rolling all the way down (which is no small flight of stairs, it should be noted) to the bottom of the first floor.

Now, lying on the ground is not so bad in itself. What is bad is not being able to feel your legs and still not being able to understand how you manage to tidy up your neural wiring so that your legs can still move on their own and go to the kitchen to rescue all the delicacies Alfred left you in time.

And it's a good thing you managed to do it… because within seconds Bart had rushed in to ransack the fridge and the fruit basket.

But that's not the point.

The important thing is that this time you managed, I insist a little on the feat of action, to climb up to your room and not notice how you couldn't really feel your legs.

You ate, you lay down… and to your bad or good luck, you couldn't get up …. and without anyone noticing there was an emergency and everyone went out to sort it out.

Weak limbs, limited movement and you don't want to mention the embarrassing actions you did in order to go to the toilet.

It's not like you hid it either, I mean, there was no one who could even notice because they weren't entirely available to watch you. Nor is it that you would have run away, otherwise they would have been at your side in less than a second.

The detail, as they insist, is that you had probably bruised your back badly and your body was now taxing you extra for your food craving.

I insist, you did not hide anything.

But still, when you're found completely itchy on the floor, ridiculously trying to run away in the direction of the bathroom… that's when everyone really goes crazy.

First, having to carry you and not dying of embarrassment when you notice that Bruce definitely doesn't give a damn about having to carry you to the bathroom and do almost everything for you.

Or having Dick and Jason carry you and fit you into some kind of weird medical scanner they have in the cave.

Or that Tim keeps track of your periods, types of meds you take and, for fuck's sake, knows how the fuck to inject something into your spine.

Or that Damian had the gall to look a little embarrassed when he heard that a pair of boxers lying outside the laundry basket was to blame for all this.

NO matter.

At the end of the day they heal you, pamper you, leave you alone when you need to take a nap and figure out a way to fix it without looking like complete maniacs who built some kind of internal plumbing that sucks up the dirty laundry and throws it straight into the washing machine.

Like the time they didn't look like maniacs by sanding all the edges of the tables and nightstands.

Or the time they bought a whole brand of sanitary towels when they realised that not all women use tampons.

Don't worry, they're looking out for you… even if they look like deranged Arkhan freaks in the process.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Once and Forever - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1332

Summary: Not everything is meant to be seen as a duty when one feels different, am i right?

The ballroom of the Bridgerton household was abuzz with activity, as the crème de la crème of society gathered to celebrate the impending union of you and the beloved Anthony Bridgerton.

You were praised as the most enigmatic beauty of the season, your arrival at the ton had been nothing short of legendary.

Rumors swirled of your heritage, your tragic past, and the scandalous circumstances that had brought you to England.

Now, as you took your place at Anthony's side, your every move was scrutinized, your every word analyzed, and every touch felt like a spark igniting a blaze.

Despite your outward appearance of calm, Anthony could feel his heart racing as he looked into your eyes.

He'd never been so torn between his duty and his desires.

On the one hand, he knew that this marriage was the only way to ruin the 'rake' rumors, on the other, he couldn't help but feel an undeniable attraction to you.

He longed to tell you how beautiful you were, how your laughter filled the halls of the house, how your presence lit up the room like the sun on a summer's day.

But he didn't know how.

You, for your part, could feel the tension emanating from Anthony.

You'd thought him arrogant and dismissive at first, but as the night wore on, you found yourself growing more and more confused.

His eyes seemed to bore into your skin as if he were trying to see past your facade and understand the real you.

You wished he would say something, anything, that would put you at ease.

But you knew that your marriage was about more than just your feelings, it was about duty and obligation.

And so, you smiled and laughed and tried your best to fit into the world he'd built for himself.

Yet, you thought that the most thoughtful thing to do was to distance yourself from heartache and a whirlwind of emotions.

And so you did.

You spent your days in solitude, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of your rooms.

The servants, who had once treated you with such admiration and awe, now ignored your presence, as if you were nothing more than another piece of furniture.

You found yourself missing the sound of laughter and music that once filled the halls of the house, but you knew that it was better this way.

Anthony, on the other hand, was a different story.

He seemed to be everywhere you went, always watching you, always studying you.

It was unnerving, to say the least. You wondered if he was trying to find some fault in you, some reason why you shouldn't be together.

Perhaps he was looking for a way out of your arranged marriage.

The thought brought a twinge of sadness to your heart, for you had begun to hope that perhaps, in time, you might find some sort of happiness together.

The servants, too, seemed to be more attentive to him than ever before.

They hovered around him like a cloud of gossipmongers, whispering and giggling whenever he was near.

You couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy. You wanted to be the one who made him smile, the one who made him forget about everything else.

But you knew that it was not to be. Your marriage was about duty and obligation, nothing more.

One day, as you were wandering the gardens alone, lost in your thoughts, you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up to see Anthony walking towards you.

His expression was solemn, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and longing.

For a moment, you couldn't breathe. You'd never seen him look at you like that before.

"Y/n," he began, his voice gruff with emotion.

"I... I wanted to apologize for my behavior. For treating you the way I have. I know that I haven't made it easy for you to adjust to life here, and for that, I am truly sorry." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"I want you to know that I did not choose this arrangement lightly. I did it because I believed it was the best thing for my family, and for my siblings who look up to me. I thought it was my duty to protect them."

You looked up at him, your heart racing. His words were like balm to your wounded soul.

"I understand that, Anthony," you said softly.

"And I appreciate your apology. I want you to know that I didn't come here under false pretenses. I know what our marriage is about, and I accept that."

He studied your face for a moment as if searching for some sign of deception.

"You're not just saying that?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "You truly accept it?"

You nodded, your heart swelling with a mixture of affection and understanding.

"Yes, I do. And I want you to know that I'm not angry with you. I understand why you did what you did, and I respect that."

Anthony took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I... I wish things could be different. That we could be different." He hesitated as if searching for the right words. "I want to try, y/n. I want to make this work between us."

"At which moment has there ever been an, us, Anthony?"

His features twisted in thought as if he were trying to understand your words.

"I don't know," he admitted softly.

"Perhaps there never was. Perhaps we were always meant to be pawns in a game greater than ourselves. But... I want to try. I want to see if there's something more between us. Something real."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words.

You wanted to believe him, to trust that he was sincere. But you couldn't help but feel a sense of caution.

"Anthony, I... I appreciate what you're saying. But I don't want to hurt you, or your family."

He took another step closer, his expression solemn.

"Y/n, I understand that. Yet, I want you to know that I will always put your happiness first. Above everything else."

His voice cracked slightly on the last word, and for a moment, you stood there in silence, the weight of your words hanging between you both.

And that was the very exact moment that you decided to do something very unexpected.

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you both, and tentatively placed your hand against his chest.

He looked down at you, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth spread through your body that you hadn't experienced in a very long time.

"Anthony," you breathed, "I... is this a smart thing to do?"

He smiled down at you, his eyes softening.

"I don't know, y/n. But I do know that I've never felt this way about anyone before. And I think... I think I want to find out where this leads us."

As if emboldened by his words, you leaned in closer, your lips meeting his in a gentle kiss.

His hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he deepened the kiss.

It was a tentative, exploratory kiss, a first step into uncharted territory.

You could feel the heat from his body, the strength in his embrace, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily, your face flushed.

He looked into your eyes, searching for some sign of what you were feeling.

You reached up and traced your fingers along his jawline. "I know," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. "I want to find out as well."

He smiled down at you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his entire face.

"Me too," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Me too."

[f1daydreamers]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Check out the masterlist for the first two parts if you haven’t read them already! Also, thank you so much for the kind comments on my posts, they mean more to me than you’ll ever know!

Warnings: this one’s a bit more fluffy, still a very reserved Trent tho

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

The first match to kickstart the club’s season was undeniably close.

The pressure had been mounting palpably in the last few weeks, evident in the increasingly focused, sharper, and heavier training sessions.

You didn’t have a personal experience with them, more so the ones that Conor had been complaining about.

But despite being unable to travel to the US, you’d personally assumed that preseason had been a success.

You’d caught highlights when they dropped and heard murmurs of staff satisfaction with certain performances circulating around the centre.

You hadn’t been able to get many sessions in though, only a touch few with Conor, as he was your top priority given his age.

He’d done remarkably well the previous season under Jurgen when top performances were needed, but working on his mental stability was always a key factor and one of extreme importance.

"Congrats," you smiled warmly as the Irishman approached, his own smile mirroring yours. You acknowledged his successful time in America.

“You must be feeling great,” you remarked, smiling gently.

His dimples were evident as he nodded, a sense of fulfilment telling in his stance. “Yeah, yeah. It was good, enjoyed it proper.”

You let him continue on, giving brief welcomes and some hugs to the players as they piled in one by one within the hour before their training began.

You felt a pang of frustration as Trent walked directly past you, refusing to even meet your eyes as he acknowledged only a few of the staff who were standing off to the side.

Dismissing it, you turned your attention to Wataru as he approached next.

You needed to focus on the players who were working with you. It was crucial, especially as the season was fast-approaching.

Or so you kept telling yourself.

“Y/N,” you glanced back, a smile forming as you spotted Arne trying to catch your attention.

“How are you doing?” He asked as you fell into step with him, continuing to walk down the corridor towards the gym where he was headed.

“Good, yeah. You?” You kept it short and sweet, fully aware that he was a busy man.

“Doing okay. About your request you sent before preseason,” Arne continued, prompting both of you to stop and face each other, a hopeful anticipation in the air.

“It’s fine with me and Lee doesn’t have any issues with it. But, if there is no improvement, then the sessions will need to resume as planned. Okay?” He nodded affirmatively.

“Yes, of course. I-I understand. Thank you.” You replied gratefully, your appreciation evident as he patted your shoulder before leaving you.

…

The city was buzzing with activity as match day quickly approached. Red flares blazing around the city, shirts and scarves already adorned the day before.

The players were being put through their paces in the final training session before the big game. Having an hour free in the mornings after your request was approved meant you could utilise it in a different way.

You observed the session from the sidelines, making mental notes of the players' demeanours and interactions. Trent was, as usual, intensely focused. Every movement, every touch of the ball deliberate.

After the session had concluded for the day, you made your way to the changing rooms. Some were discussing tactics, sharing jokes, and some were lost in their thoughts, mentally preparing.

You approached Conor, who was pulling his boots off his feet, and sat beside him.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

He looked up, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I think so. Just need to stay focused."

"Remember what we talked about," you reminded him gently. "Always be ready, visualise your game, see yourself succeeding."

Conor nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his fist, and you met it with a bump. "Thanks, Y/N. It helps, you know."

A wave of relief washed over you. Reminding yourself that you were doing a good job was one thing, but hearing it from someone you always tried to help was another.

"I'm glad," you said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Upon hearing Arne clasp his hands together, forcing everyone to quiet down and hear the gaffer out, you silently gave Curtis and Wataru a nod before slipping out of the room.

As you turned, you nearly collided with Trent. He tutted, sidestepping in order to slide past you and into the changing rooms. You'd hoped that once he was informed of your approved request, he'd be slightly less frowny.

But seemingly, the opposite was happening.

…

You had just finished Curtis' report when a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Mustering a tired smile, you called out, "come in."

Lee popped his head through the door, and you rose from your chair. "Hey, everything okay?"

He entered the office, closing the door behind him but not completely. With his hands raised in mock surrender, he said, "yeah, yeah, all good. I just uh wanted to ask if you caught Trent." "I thought you approved my request?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I did," he confirmed, stepping forward. "But I saw Trent hanging around your office just after training." "What? Why?" you asked, bewildered. You tried to think back to earlier, but all you remembered was that you were definitely not in your office. "He didn't say. Didn't seem happy, though." Lee shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight on to either feet. "Not much difference there, then." You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. "I'm confused. If he knew about the request, why would he show up?" You asked, and the senior consultant shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You both thought about it for a moment until Lee spoke again, "are you sure Arne let him know?" Your head tilted, mouth slightly parting as realisation dawned on you.

Oh.

"I'm pretty sure Arne didn't because you were meant to," you said, trying to keep your tone casual despite the frustration creeping in.

The first session Trent had supposedly shown up for, you weren't even there. Suddenly, his avoidance of you after you'd exited the changing rooms made a lot more sense. He must’ve just come down from your office. "I was?" Lee asked, clearly taken aback. You let your head fall back in exhaustion but slowly nodded moments later. Shuffling through the papers on your desk, you found the one you needed and handed it to Lee. He scanned over the text, before he looked up again.

“Y/N, I feel terrible. I can go find him." Remorse painted itself across his features.

"It's okay," you replied. "It's better if he hears it from me." You aimed to justify poorly.

Because you had a very successful track record of not pissing Trent off, obviously.

...

Later in the day, you found yourself back in the canteen, grabbing a quick coffee.

It was well past noon, but with the mountain of reports you needed to write about the players' psychological states before tomorrow, caffeine was your only ally.

Trent walked in, looking for a snack. Being on the bottom of his 'I don't want to talk to you' list every day meant the outcome of your conversations with him were quite forseeable.

Deciding to address the elephant in the room, you walked up and pushed all doubts to the back of your mind. You reached out and touched his arm to get his attention, and he reacted immediately.

He turned to face you, and you lowered your hand slowly.

“Can we talk for a second?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

His jaw hardened. “I'm busy.”

"I promise it won't take long." You countered.

"Considering I don't care about your promises, that don’t mean shit to me." He's on a roll with the irony, you thought to yourself.

You glanced at a sympathetic Carol who was standing on the other side of the serving station.

"Please?" You blinked slowly, praying to the powers that be to instill some patience in the man.

He picked up a bag of trail mix, before watching your face for a few seconds. You were half-expecting him to tell you to eat shit, but you were wrong.

An unusually pleasant surprise.

You nodded to a quieter corner and led the way, with him following behind before you whisked around.

"I'm so sorry." You fiddled with the cup of coffee in your hand.

Past his hardened anger, you'd felt bad for him. The courage to have shown up only to be let down isn't a feeling that would've altered his perception of you.

"I don't care." His gaze bore into yours, unyielding.

You frowned slightly. "I do. I told you I'd keep trying to reach you and-"

"What's your point?"

His eyes travelled down to your fidgeting fingers before dragging back up to your face. He sighed, clearly bored.

"Lee was meant to tell you," you paused, gathering your words. His eyes narrowed.

A flush of guilt coloured your cheeks. "I put in a request before preseason to cancel our sessions together."

You looked up, trying to gauge his reaction. The crease between his brows was prominent. "It was approved, and Lee was supposed to tell you, but he must've forgotten."

It hurt to let someone down. As a chronic people-pleaser, this likely frustrated you way more than it did Trent.

He leaned against the wall behind him, bringing one knee up. He crossed his arms but his eyes lightened. "So, you're telling me that..."

He paused to pop an almond into his mouth. "You admitted defeat?"

Either he was smirking, or you were being incredibly delusional.

You shook your head. "No, I never gave up on you. I thought maybe you needed a different approach." Explaining your previous actions felt pathetically awkward.

His lips pressed together. "Or maybe you just couldn’t handle it."

You rolled your eyes, your features still guilt-ridden. "Does that make you happy or something?"

His eyes roved over your features, and for a moment, his expression softened.

"Oh, you have no idea, psychologist."

You swallowed, feeling a flutter of surprise. Your eyes widened slightly, the gentleness in his features unexpected.

Just then, Curtis walked by and caught the tail end of your conversation. “Are you two flirting or fighting?” He teased, winking at his Scouse counterpart.

Your expression didn't change, but Trent looked over, staring at him. “Can’t you tell the difference, mate? Your missus must have a hard time putting up with you.” He remarked a little too quickly.

Curtis' mouth fell open as some of the players snickered at the exchange. To your surprise, Trent let out a genuine laugh - an unfamiliar sound that retained your attention.

He pushed off the wall and ambled over, casually draping an arm over his friend's shoulder.

On another day, maybe you would've joined into the jokes that were being thrown around but you were oddly rendered silent.

His almost playful disposition was a complete contrast to the tension that had clouded your interactions since the day you'd met.

It was almost as if he genuinely believed he was rid of you, and this moment of levity was his way of signalling relief.

You took a deep breath.

The casual banter, although lighthearted, felt jarring. Without another word, you walked out of the canteen, the enigma of his sudden change nagging at you.

As you exited, Trent’s gaze followed you, his eyes tracing your retreating figure. He seemed poised to follow you, a sign of a subtle, perhaps unconscious shift in his stance.

His eyes lingered on your departing form, as if grappling with an unspoken urge to either see where you were going or say something to you, though he wasn't quite sure what.

Yet only as he started to move, Curtis' voice cut through the moment. "Oi, where you off to?" Trent shook his head, a half-smile still playing on his lips as he rejoined the group.

Oddly, his attention remained fixed on the door for just a bit longer, as if expecting you to turn back around, before he fully immersed himself back into the conversation.

…

Part 4

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e

[wosofics00]

Sister

Leah Williamson x Reader!Alessia

Part 2

Part 1 : https://www.tumblr.com/wosofics00/759735653070241792/sister?source=share

Authors note: you should read part 1 to understand the storyline. It’s right on my page!

——————————————————————-

A few months later y/n and Leah have established a routine of seeing each other once or twice a month. Due to the distance from Rome to London both women were too scared to think of something more than just being casual. Or so they told themselves.

Usually y/n would fly to London, sleep at Leah’s place, visit alessia the next day and return to Italy after that. Alessia is a bit surprised about how often you were coming to England since she won the euros. And she is also surprised to find a unusually cheerful Leah at training once in a while. Nevertheless she never makes the connection between those two incidents and you and Leah intended it so stay this way. But the whole dynamic shifts when Leah’s visiting Rome, this time she’s there with Keira to see her girlfriend Laura play but she also planned on seeing you at some point. 

Leah: Do you want to come to my room tonight? Keira and Laura probably want some privacy anyway. x

You: sure, just send me the details :)

The exchanges you had where always pretty similar. Not a lot of texting, just practical planning to meet up at some point. But that differs from the way you would interact when you were seeing each other. Even though the arrangement was casual, it wasn’t just about sex. You could have someone for that in Rome, and Leah in London, which would make it a lot easier. Actually Leah really liked hanging out with you, and vice versa. From time to time Leah manages to really open up to you, which doesn’t happen a lot in Leah’s life. Usually she has this hard demeanour, focused on her career and the duties that come along with that. But when you’re laying in bed together she was the one to snuggle into your neck, give you soft kisses and tells you about her fears and worries. 

Therefore you meeting up in her room was, as always, very intimate and intense. As soon as she opened you the hotel door she would drag you in and pin you against the wall. But after the physical desires are more than satisfied, you both laying naked in bed, cuddling each other, you’d start speaking about god knows what. Leah tells you about her ACL recovery, a journey you have helped her carry through it. She tells you about the new season approaching and the pressure that comes with it. You on the other hand share your doubts about keep living in Rome and thoughts about some career choices you would have to make. But apart from talking about deeper topics when you got together you would be just as goofy as serious. That’s what leaves Leah feeling giddy and all smiley when you leave her hotel room in the morning. But she isn’t prepared about what’s going to happen at brunch with Keira.

„You seem cheery“ she observes and Leah just nods, smiling lightly „well maybe I just like spending time with you“ Leah answers which makes Keira raise her eyebrows „you don’t even believe that yourself“ she answers which makes Leah chuckle. „Maybe it’s the weather here, I’m just in a good mood“ Leah shrugs, trying to end the topic. But Keira answers bluntly „maybe, or it’s about the women you managed to fuck yesterday“. Leah is startled by that and turns a red tomato, completely overwhelmed by the situation. Did Keira see you leaving her room and more importantly, did she recognise you? Leah is a stuttering mess until Keira speaks again „the walls are thin here Leah“ she chuckles when Leah blushes even more „sorry…“ Leah just quietly says, too embarrassed by the situation. She and Keira never talk about things like that so she’s feeling pretty uncomfortable. But Keira chuckles and waves it off „it’s alright…so who was she? And how the hell did you meet her, we just arrived last night“. 

„Ehhhm“ Leah tries to think of an excuse but she’s always been a bad liar „eh…I met her online!“ she finally thinks of something but Keira frowns „I don’t believe you, I’ve known you half my live Leah, you can’t lie to me“ she says and Leah groans at her. „So? Who is it?“ Keira asks again. „Just someone I have been…seeing“ she finally confesses but that makes Keira frown even more. „Like dating? Why the hell are you dating someone in Rome?“. „No no no not dating, just casual. And I just…know a lot of people“ she shrugs it off. „Just tell me who it is already mate“, then Keira slowly realizes why Leah’s so hesitant to tell her more about the mistery woman. „Oh my god it’s someone I know isn’t it?!“ she says excited by the gossip, grinning from ear to ear. „I’m not answering anymore“ Leah states and leans against the wall, praying that Keira somehow doesn’t find out the whole story. „I’ll find out who. Is it a teammate of Laura?“ no answer from Leah, she tries to remain as neutral as possible. „Someone from the Italian national team?“ Leah keeps on being quiet. 

Keira keeps on going through her head who Leah’s lover in Rome could be until her eyes go wide „oh my god, please tell me it’s not alessias sister“ she says. Leah tries to stay neutral again, to not give it away, but her cheeks are reddening what is enough confirmation for Keira that her guess is right. „Leah! You can’t sleep with y/n, she’s alessias younger sister“ Keira scolds her but Leah rolls her eyes at that „yeah she is but she’s also an adult who makes her own decisions. So don’t judge me like that“ Leah defend herself and Keira sighs, understanding Leah’s point. 

They stay silent for a while before Keira says „you really like her right?“. „I told you it’s casual“ Leah looks down and fumbles with her fingers a bit. She always tries to push the question about her feelings for you to the side but her best friend sees right through her. „Leah“ she just has to say before Leah sighs and leans against the wall „I might like her…a lot. That’s why I have to end it“. „You deserve to find someone you know that right?“ Keira answers, trying to tell Leah it’s a great thing she found someone she really likes. „No…not her. It’s way to complicated with long distance and less being her sister. I just can’t give into those feelings“ Leah explains and Keira sighs in defeat, sensing that she can’t persuade Leah otherwise right now. „Alright then, but let her down gently. And don’t you dare sleeping with her again!“ Keira gives in and Leah sighs but nods. „Enough talking about my shit love life, how are you and Laura?“ Leah then changes the topic to something more positive, pushing her thoughts about you to the back of her mind.

But in the evening she’s sitting in front of her phone, writing and deleting texts to you for about a thousand times. She doesn’t want to end it over the phone but she’s also overwhelmed about what she wants to say to you in person. Finally she takes in all her strength and texts you:

Leah: Hey, I’m still in Rome for tonight. Can we meet up? In my room or a bar, I have to talk to you about something.

You’re quite confused about the seriousness in Leah’s message. Usually their interactions are easy and light and uncomplicated. 

You: Hi Leah, sure I can come around after dinner. 8pm?

Leah: Sounds good, see you then :)

——

Later that evening Leah’s nerves are running wild. She’s pacing up and down her room, waiting for you and still trying to think about what she’s gonna say to you. But eventually you knock on her door and after taking a deep breath she opens it. 

„Hi“ you smile sweetly and she greets you with a hug, closing the door after you step in. „Hey, do you want some tea? Or espresso? I don’t know how you Italians are drinking this but I have a machine here“ she rambles on which makes you chuckle lightly. „Espresso would be great“ you answer and she nods before trying to make the machine work. After a few minutes watching her struggle you finally take pity of Leah and take care of the drink yourself. „Sorry“ she smiles lightly and scratches her neck. „Don’t worry about it“ you laugh and then sit down on the couch with her drink, looking at her expectingly. „You gonna sit down as well or just stand there?“ you laugh again and Leah blushes lightly „right yeah“ she mumbles before sitting down next to you, trying to keep her distance a bit. „So you wanted to talk about something?“ you ask her while taking a sip of espresso before putting it down on the table. „yeah“ she says scratching her neck again. „I’m just gonna say it right away…we have to end things“ Leah reveals which makes you gulp a bit. „Oh“ is the only answer you can get out. „I’m sorry but i umm decided to get back out there and look for something serious, and I can’t resume what we have going on if I want that“ Leah thinks of a quick lie, which feels terrible but she can’t tell you her real reason for ending things. „Right…I understand you, and good luck with that“ you smile weakly and get out of your seat. „Hey“ Leah gets up as well and takes your hand „I think you should do the same, you’re quite the catch“ Leah smiles softly but you just squeeze her hand lightly before pulling away. „Maybe…so I better go, see you Leah“ you answer and then make your way towards the door. „Bye y/n“ Leah follows you   and can’t help herself staring at you until you’re out of sight and she has to shut the door. 

—

As soon as you’re outside the hotel you lean against the cold stone wall and try to steady your breath. 

After a few seconds she starts to type in her sisters number with trembling hands. Finally she picks up, a bit confused by the sudden call: 

Less: Hey y/n what’s up? Are you good?

You try to contain a sniff and finally say „n-no…she ended things.“

—————————————-

This is a bit shorty, sorry. Also I am not really happy with this story but whatever, it’s my first fic so that’s okay. Hope you still enjoyed it. Happy about feedback and comments!

[imagineseclipse]

I know you- Anthony Bridgerton x Y/n:Part one

Part one - Part two

Anthony rolled his eyes as he leant against the door frame, watching his family whisper excitedly between themselves as they leant towards the door trying to hear inside, thankfully the walls were thick because on the other side you were almost rolling around on the floor out of breath trying to tighten the corset that Violet had picked out for you. You weren’t a Bridgerton, but you were as close as. You had been a family friend of theirs for as long as you could remember, spending many occasions with them and this season was no different. You often chose to stay at their house instead of your own.

The eldest Bridgerton couldn't understand what all the fuss was as he peered over at the chaos once again, this year a Bridgerton sister wasn’t being put forth before the queen. Francesca had just married off and there was still a while before the others could join Society. So what was the commotion for?

He rolled his eyes again, pushing himself off the door frame, approaching his mother and sisters.

“Maybe we should just quit whilst we’re ahead, I’m sure the queen has already found her diamond”you breathed out nervously, sweat dripping from your top lip as you looked dishevelled and troubled.

“Y/n, you’ve been putting this off since the season I got married”Daphne sighed as she patted down your chest with a cloth.

“And for good reason, it’s hell on earth out there Daphne you know all too well”you scoffed swatting your best friend away.

“You’ll be amazing I’m sure of it-Are you ready?”Daphne raised her eyebrow

“Absolutely not, do not open those doors”you uttered out shaking your head as Daphne unfolded the double doors, revealing the crowd in the hall. You let out a growl as you walked past her, towards Violet.

Anthony's eyes widened as you stepped out, the pale blue lace and silk popping against your skin. The lace draping down around your waist, the silk clinging to all the right parts of you. He was not expecting this. He wasn’t expecting you, looking like that. An unfamiliar feeling washed over him as he realised what was happening. You were going out into society after years of avoiding it. You were to Marry.

He watched as his family, especially Eloise and Daphne, danced excitedly around you, admiring your new look. But Anthony's gaze then fixated on you, his eyes following your every move.

He clenched his jaw slightly, confused and conflicted emotions plagued his thoughts. You had grown up very quickly, no longer the annoying bestfriend to his sister but a mature and captivating lady.

For some reason Anthony had always been relieved that you chose not to join the rest of the Ton in the marriage market, telling himself that you were like a sister to him, and you were strong and independent, eager to think for yourself.

In truth, it was because he didn't want to witness men courting you and vying for your affection like vultures, he didn’t understand why the thought made him uneasy. But it did.

“Can I change my mind?”you pleaded to everyone, Violet letting out a small chuckle as she stepped forwards to adjust a loose hair that fell down your face.

“Yes can she?”His voice rang out, causing everyone to fall into a heavy silence, Anthony’s voice rang out clear as day, his sisters turning to face him with confused expressions, your head turned to him, the first time seeing him since you had moved your things in. Your gaze met his and his eyes never left you, even after everyone had been staring at him because of his sudden outburst.

Something about him was different, you had always thought that Anthony was handsome, but you would have rather died than let him know that. He already had most of the ladies in London falling to their knees, you would be a bonus ego boost for him having teased him for years. His brown hair had grown longer, his eyes full of adventure a twinkle residing there. He looked older, and more muscular. You snapped yourself out of the daze you had fallen into noticing that his gaze was still burning into yours.

“I uh- I mean why make haste if she wants to be a spinster for the rest of her life”he smirked covering his tracks, switching back to his usual insults towards you.

You rolled your eyes, narrowing them at him, you ignored the small smile that played on his mother’s lips as she watched the interaction between the two of you.

“Anthony Bridgerton, as charming as ever, shouldn’t you have been wed like five seasons ago?”you grinned menacingly, thankful that this conversation had calmed your nerves slightly. Eloise stifled a laugh as her older brother grumbled out a profanity under his breath.

“You know let’s hope you’re successful finding a suitable husband with that sharp tongue”he retorted before turning and disappearing into his room, slamming the door behind him.

“What is with him, he’s acting weird”Benedict groaned, Francesca nodding in agreement.

“He’s just snarly because y/n knows how to push his buttons”Daphne hummed out as she put the finishing touches to your dress.

“It’s taken many years of practice but I think I have managed to master the art”you curtseyed with a proud nod.

“Right children, we shan’t be late, the queen will faint if we don’t show on time, we always deliver every year so y/n do us proud”Violet took your hand in hers giving it a tight squeeze.

“I’ll go and get Anthony, there are three coaches outside waiting”Benedict briskly walked in the direction of his older brother.

“Y/n you must take the third carriage with Anthony, we have to keep your dress in pristine condition for your entrance, if you are seen with the Viscount it may deem you more desirable, not that you aren’t already, but it will help”Daphne ordered.

“Honestly Daph, I’m starting to believe you might actually hate me”you groaned, rolling your eyes once again at the thought of being left alone with Anthony when he was in one of his moods.

You sat in the carriage, starting to panic on your own for a little while whilst you waited for Anthony so you could be on your way, your breathing becoming laboured and short. The door finally flung open and the Viscount caught sight of you fanning the sweat from your face. He hesitated before entering, he couldn’t peel his eyes away from you as he watched you struggle.

“What are you staring at Bridgerton”you quipped out as the journey began, the carriage moving swiftly along with the horses.

"Just admiring the view, love," he replied with a smirk, sitting across from you. You ignored his back handed compliment, sure that he was just trying to get under your skin.

He watched you with an amused expression, but his gaze darkened slightly with concern. "You're not feeling unwell, are you?"

“If it means I don’t have to go through with this then yes I’m feeling extremely unwell”you blew air into your own face.

“I know you y/n y/l/n, I know this isn’t what you want”Anthony spoke out gently, a great difference to how he spoke to you earlier. He knew that this was not what you wanted, he also knew that this is not what he wanted either. Deep down in the depths of his ice cold heart. It was like a nagging feeling that he couldn’t get rid of, an itch that he couldn’t scratch. He didn’t know what it was he’d never felt this way before.

“I have no choice, I’m not like you I can’t just decide that I don’t want to get married, i certainly don’t have a love match, I’m not married into royalty, it’s time I faced the music and put my delusions of being independent to rest. If that means marrying someone just for convenience then so be it”You had lied to everyone else about why you had stepped forward to join the Society, but you had never lied to Anthony and you wouldn’t start now.

“And as much as it kills me I can’t hang around the Bridgerton house forever, if anything it’s a win win for everyone at least you get me out of your way so you can be broody In peace my lord”you offered him a genuine small smile.

A frown settled on his face as he listened to your words, he had always loved having you around, he would never tell a living soul that information. But every time you came to stay his life became more exciting. He would find himself purposely bumping into you during gatherings.

A mixture of emotions passed through Anthony's face as he absorbed your words. A part of him wanted to argue and convince you to stay, insisting that you weren’t a bother and that he didn’t want you gone. But he kept his mouth shut, his pride preventing him from showing any vulnerability. Instead, he leaned back against the seat, his expression unreadable.

“I suppose you have a point,” he finally said with a small forced chuckle. “It will be quieter around Bridgerton House without you constantly bickering with Eloise and I.”He teased, a hint of sadness lingering. He didn’t want this.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Anthony’s hand reached out to grasp yours unexpectedly, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You tried to regain your composure, before anyone saw the interaction. His hand still holding yours.

The sound of music from the ball a few yards away had faded into the background as you looked up into his eyes, seeing a new and unexpected look in them. It was different from anything you had seen before, a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“Find me”he whispered.

“What?”you breathed out, your words barely leaving your lips.

“Find me if someone disrespects your honour, I know you get awfully anxious, if you feel like the earth is falling out from underneath your feet, I promise, I will drop everything. Find me”Anthony grew closer to you in the moment, your chest rising and falling faster as your eyes flickered between his.

Anthony's whispered words reached your ears, his tone serious. A part of you knowing that he was just willing to protect you because he thought of you as a younger sister, a part of you wanting it to be for a different reason.

Just as you were about to say something absolutely ludicrous the door was abruptly opened, your hands jumping out of each-others quickly. Feeling empty and cold as he exited the carriage, standing outside with his hand extended towards you.

You took a second revisiting everything he had just said to you. The two of you had deep conversations in the past, but nothing like this. Reaching out, your hands fitting together perfectly once again as Anthony gently helped you down from the carriage.

[estapa-edwards]

hughes sister who plays for the rnagers and falls in love with matt especially as she sees hwo sweet he is off the ice and hate how the media makes him look like an ass. matt who quickly falls for her, he stays with her when he gets called up to the rangers

ALWAYS - M. REMPE

paring: Matt Rempe x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Y/N Hughes had always been the odd one out in her family. Her brothers, Jack, Quinn, and Luke, were all renowned hockey players, carving their names in the NHL history books. Y/N, on the other hand, was also a hockey player, but she was making waves in her own right as one of the few women in the sport to play in the NHL, proudly representing the New York Rangers.

Her journey hadn’t been easy, facing skepticism and doubt at every turn. But Y/N had her brothers' unwavering support and her own determination to prove the doubters wrong. And so, she had become a formidable presence on the ice, known for her agility and sharp instincts.

Yet, even in the bustling world of professional hockey, fate had a way of introducing unexpected twists.

Her latest task was scouting new talent, and that’s how she found herself at a Hartford Wolf Pack game, keeping an eye on Matt Rempe.

Matt was known for his size and physicality, a giant on the ice with a reputation to match. The media often painted him as the enforcer, someone who used his fists more than his skills. But as Y/N watched him play, she saw something different. His movements were calculated, his plays strategic. He had a grace that belied his imposing figure.

After the game, Y/N decided to introduce herself. She found Matt in the locker room, his tall frame hunched over as he unlaced his skates. She took a deep breath and approached him.

“Hey, Matt. Great game out there,” she said with a warm smile.

Matt looked up, slightly surprised. “Y/N Hughes, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to come down and check out your game. You were impressive.”

He shook her hand, his grip firm but not overwhelming. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t know you were with the Rangers now. How are Quinn, Jack, and Luke?”

“They're doing great. Busy with their own seasons,” Y/N said. “But let's talk about you. I’ve been watching your progress and I think you’ve got a lot more to offer than what the media shows.”

Matt’s smile widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Thanks. It’s frustrating sometimes, being seen only as the enforcer.”

“I can imagine,” Y/N said. “But from what I saw tonight, you’re a lot more than that. You’ve got some serious skills out there.”

“Appreciate that, really,” Matt replied. “It’s nice to hear.”

--- --- --- 

Y/N and Matt kept in touch after that initial meeting. They talked about everything: hockey, life, their families. Y/N found herself looking forward to their conversations, intrigued by the man behind the tough exterior. Matt, too, found himself drawn to Y/N’s intelligence and kindness.

One evening, after a particularly grueling game, Matt invited Y/N out for coffee. They sat in a cozy corner of a small café, the warmth and aroma of freshly brewed coffee surrounding them. The bustling noise of the city outside was a stark contrast to the intimate bubble they had created.

“I hate how the media portrays you,” Y/N admitted, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “They make you out to be this brute, but you’re so much more than that.”

Matt sighed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on the steam rising from his cup. “It’s frustrating, but I try not to let it get to me. I know who I am, and the people who matter know too.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. “It’s just unfair. They don’t see the person I see. The one who’s thoughtful and strategic on the ice, and kind off it.”

Matt's gaze softened as he looked at her. “You really see all that?”

“I do,” Y/N said, her voice firm but gentle. “You’re an amazing player and an even more amazing person.”

Matt reached across the table, taking her hand in his. The touch was warm, grounding. “And I think you’re pretty amazing too, Y/N. You’ve accomplished so much, breaking barriers and proving everyone wrong.”

A soft blush crept up Y/N’s cheeks. “It hasn’t been easy, but it’s worth it. And having people like you who believe in me makes it all the better.”

Matt smiled, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “You make it sound so simple, but I know it’s not. You’re strong, Y/N. Stronger than most people I know.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the connection between them growing stronger with each passing second. The café around them buzzed with life, but it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

“What’s your favorite part of playing in the NHL?” Matt asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N thought for a moment, her eyes distant. “Honestly, it’s the feeling of belonging. Growing up, I always felt like I had to prove myself, even to my own family. But now, when I step on the ice, I know I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. It’s empowering.”

Matt nodded, understanding completely. “I get that. For me, it’s the camaraderie. The team becomes your family. And even though the media focuses on the rough side of the game, there’s so much more to it. The friendships, the trust, the mutual respect.”

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand. “That’s what I love about you, Matt. You see the bigger picture. You’re not just a player; you’re a teammate, a friend.”

Matt felt his heart swell with emotion. “And you’re not just a player either, Y/N. You’re a trailblazer, an inspiration. I’m really glad we met.”

“Me too,” Y/N replied softly, her eyes locking with his. “I feel like I can be myself around you. No pretense, no expectations. Just me.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Matt said, his voice barely above a whisper.

--- --- --- 

As their friendship blossomed, so did Matt’s career. He was called up to the Rangers, a momentous occasion that he wanted to share with Y/N. They celebrated together at a small bistro near Madison Square Garden, the excitement of the news still buzzing in the air.

“I knew you had it in you,” Y/N said, hugging him tightly. Her eyes sparkled with pride and genuine happiness for him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Matt replied, his voice filled with emotion. He held her a moment longer, feeling the warmth and sincerity of her support.

They settled into a booth, ordering their favorite dishes and a bottle of celebratory champagne. As they waited for their food, they talked about the journey that had brought them to this point.

“It feels surreal,” Matt admitted, toying with his fork. “Just a few months ago, I was grinding it out with the Wolf Pack, and now I’m here, in New York, with the Rangers.”

“You deserve it, Matt. You’ve worked so hard,” Y/N said, her eyes fixed on his. “And you’re going to do great things here. I just know it.”

Matt looked at her, his heart swelling with gratitude. “You’ve always believed in me, Y/N. Even when I doubted myself, you were there, cheering me on.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Y/N said, her smile soft and warm. “And besides, you’ve always been there for me too.”

The night continued with laughter and stories, both of them reveling in the moment. As the evening drew to a close, Matt walked Y/N back to her apartment. The city lights cast a soft glow over them, the hum of traffic a comforting backdrop.

“Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It meant a lot to me,” Matt said as they reached her door.

“It was my pleasure,” Y/N replied, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Get some rest, Matt. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

--- --- --- 

In the following weeks, Matt adjusted to life with the Rangers. The pace was faster, the competition fiercer, but he thrived under the pressure. And through it all, Y/N was there, her unwavering support a constant source of strength for him.

Their friendship deepened, the line between friends and something more blurring with each passing day. They spent more time together, exploring the city, sharing meals, and confiding in each other about their hopes and fears.

One evening, after a particularly tough game, Matt found himself at Y/N’s apartment. She had insisted he come over, offering her company and a home-cooked meal as a remedy for his rough day.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Matt said, looking at the spread of food on the table.

“I wanted to,” Y/N replied, handing him a plate. “You’ve had a long day. You deserve a break.”

As they ate, they talked about the game, the highs and lows, and their dreams for the future. The conversation flowed easily, their connection deepening with each shared word.

After dinner, they moved to the couch, a comfortable silence settling between them. Y/N turned on the TV, flipping through channels until she found a movie they both liked.

“Thanks for being here, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Matt said, his voice soft in the dim light of the living room.

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with affection. “You’d do just fine, Matt. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”

They sat together, side by side, the movie playing in the background. Slowly, almost tentatively, Matt reached out and took Y/N’s hand in his. She glanced at him, a soft smile playing on her lips, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

--- --- --- 

As the months passed, the bond between Y/N and Matt grew stronger. They supported each other through the highs and lows, finding strength in their friendship. But it was clear to both of them that their feelings had evolved into something deeper.

One evening, after a particularly exciting game, Matt invited Y/N out to celebrate. They went to the same café where they had shared their first coffee date, reminiscing about their journey.

“I’ve been thinking,” Matt began, his heart pounding. “We’ve been through so much together, and I feel like...”

“Like what?” Y/N prompted gently, her eyes locked onto his.

“Like I’ve fallen for you, Y/N,” Matt said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not just my best friend. You’re the person I want to be with.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening with surprise and joy. “I’ve fallen for you too, Matt. I’ve been afraid to admit it, but I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Matt reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Then let’s be together. Not just as friends, but as something more.”

As Matt's words hung in the air, charged with emotion and vulnerability, Y/N felt her heart swell with joy and anticipation. She had hoped for this moment, dreamed of it even, but to hear Matt express his feelings so openly stirred something deep within her.

With tears of happiness glistening in her eyes, Y/N leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Matt's hand tightened around hers as their lips met in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was a moment of pure connection, a silent promise of the love that had blossomed between them.

The world around them seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the kiss. There was no need for words, no need for explanations. In that moment, everything they needed to say was conveyed through the gentle press of lips, the warmth of their embrace.

As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over her. She looked into Matt's eyes, seeing the reflection of her own feelings mirrored back at her.

"I love you, Matt," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity and affection.

"I love you too, Y/N," Matt replied, his voice soft but unwavering. "Always."

[sea-owl]

Ok but I wanna talk about Portia in that trailer and the absolute pride in her voice when she's taking to Penelope.

I personally love Portia's character and how she's been a foil to Violet in that she's a loving mother, but she's also a realist about the society they live in. She's a tough love, no nonsense type of mother. She's making sure everyone survives as a top priority, if she has to be mean to get them there than so be it.

She's been at odds with Penelope the last two seasons mainly because of their different views. Portia is a realist, while Penelope still has dreams like most 17-18 year olds. Portia, in her own way, has been trying to bring Penelope back to reality.

An example of this to me is the scene where Portia finds out Penelope has been writing to Colin. The first thing she says "I declare Penelope," in a softer tone and when Penelope declares Colin her friend that tone becomes more strict. She tells Penelope, "Colin Bridgerton is no more your friend than I am the next Catherine the Great." Is it mean? Yup. But looking at it through Portia's eyes there's some truth to it. Their society doesn't allow friendships between single men and women. Colin and Penelope writing to one another without being engaged or even a proper courtship was actually very inappropriate. Portia probably does understand that there really isn't anything inappropriate in those letters and they are actually friends but she also knows no one else would see it that way. If she wanted she would have been well within her rights to go to Anthony about it and raise a fuss. She needs Penelope to see this too.

Now come season 3 in Portia's pov Penelope is finally taking the marriage mart seriously. She's got herself a suitor who is a titled lord, and Portia is proud of her. No more silly little fantasies of love. Meanwhile Penelope is probably weirded out with some other mixed feelings by this because this isn't what she is used to from her mother.

Makes me excited to see where their relationship goes. Because honestly, Penelope probably inherited the most from her mother, but she's in denial about it. It mostly comes out in Lady Whistledown, but that sharp wit and scheming mind is Portia. Penelope will actually fall into Portia's line of thinking when she's backed into a corner. When she saved both Colin and Eloise, she knew they would be hurt, and she's sorry about that, but she also knows they'll be safe. That is Portia's school of thought 101.

I've also been wanting to see how they approach the big heart to heart between the two of them. I want them to get into a screaming match that breaks down into them sincerely talking to one another. Penelope's confidence is supposed to get a boost this season, and we know she's not afraid to subtley barb at her mother. I hope they have Penelope confront Portia at some point, forcing everything out in the open.

[soulsisterif]

Soul Sister IF

Tired of dating show games where you feel like you don't actually get to know your fellow contestants? Sick of wlw routes being treated as an afterthought? Done with interchangable characters that share ultimately the same storyline? Do you think it's ridiculous that your choices don't get acknowledged? Do you cringe at motherf*cking adults behaving like 12-year-olds?

Then this self-indulgent game may be just what you were looking for!

Welcome to Soul Sister, the IF game where you'll participate in the first ever exclusively sapphic dating show!

DEMO: TBA

You can't say you've ever been all that lucky in love but after your best friend's insistence that you give this a try maybe the time has come for that to change. Whether your intention is to just be a good wingwoman for her or get yourself a new partner you'll have to make the most of it.

Day after day and week after week, you'll spend your time with other women actively trying to find a partner while facing the surprises the show will throw your way. First seasons always keep contestants on their toes!

This light-hearted but romance heavy story focuses on the relationships you can stablish with your fellow contestants. Have fun trying the different choices that allow you to shape your own journey through the ups and downs of human interaction.

Features:

•Customize your MC, including name, appearance, interests and age.

•Bond with your potential matches over shared interests or experience the joy of learning new things.

•Enjoy the different approaches to dating. Commit to one person or keep your options open.

•Deal with all the curveballs, courtesy of the showrunners. What did you expect? This is show biz!

♥ Abbie ♥

Monolid blue eyes. Long straight black hair, the top strands often clipped back while she leaves it hang freely on the sides. Square jaw. Pale skin with a few moles scattered here and there. As tall as you.

She's in love with you but you don't know that (you moron). She's been your best friend for years. She's known you for such a long time that she can read you like an open book. Bookstore owner.

Not particularly athletic, she enjoys reading. Novels, essays, comic books, poems. You name it. She's goofy and has a blast bantering with you, though she always keeps an eye out as not to overwhelm you and promptly backtracks when she thinks she's making you uncomfortable. She's (not really) subtly touchy with you, always resting a hand on your back or patting your leg. The other contestants see through her from the start.

*What she wants in a partner: familiarity, trust, everyday romance. *Goods you get: feels like home, understanding, warm-hearted, protective. *Bads you get: a bit possessive, scared of change.

Route: friends to lovers, everyone can see it but you.

Says: "I've wanted a relationship for a long time. This might be the only way to push myself out there." But means: "I already love someone who doesn't seem to love me back so I'd rather push both of us to date other people so that I can move on."

♥ Irene ♥

Round green eyes. Shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair left as is, pointy ears peeking through the strands. Tallest of the bunch. Wears more than a few rings, and fiddles with them a lot. Fair, rosy skin that gets easily sunburnt. Smells of sunscreen more often than not when she's outside.

Sweet and shy, her tall and strong frame doesn't look like it suits her. She seems to be eager to make conversation, but ignores how to keep it going. Very into sports and nature. Botanist.

She gets crushes easily, and just as easily she forgets one to focus on the next if her attention isn't instantly reciprocated. Can be stiff in a conversation with someone she's not familiar with, and is often much more relaxed when she can move while she talks, which is why dinner like first dates are certainly not for her.

*What she wants in a partner: kindness, support, life companion. *Goods you get: gentleness, non-judgemental, good listener. *Bads you get: clingy, needs reassurance, naive.

Route: puppy love to actual love.

Says: "I just want to find someone who loves me." But means: "I'm insecure and finding someone who wants to be with me may change the way I see myself."

♥ Joanna ♥

Upturned brown eyes. Curly apparent shoulder-length brown hair that's actually much longer when wet. Golden brown skin with more than a few tan lines. High cheekbones. Average height, wide hips and small waist, epitome of classic femininity.

Energetic, language lover. Flirty and confident, it takes a while to know whether she has a genuine romantic interest on someone or is just being her coquettish self. Translator.

Most well-travelled of the bunch, Joanna is in love with language and shows love through it. She can smooth-talk you and flirt with you relentlessly, and she's the one out of all the contestants who will want to try it out with all of the others. When she feels like things are getting serious for her, though, she'll won't keep it to herself.

*What she wants in a partner: open-minded, curious, willing to learn. *Goods you get: fun facts galore, passionate, straightforward. *Bads you get: dismissive, a little self-centred, commitment issues.

Route: no strings attached (…but she'll get jealous).

Says: "I'm looking for love, not a shackle." But means: "I like the feeling and closeness of a romantic relationship but I'm terrified of how vulnerable that leaves me."

♥ Vega ♥

Hooded black eyes. Short, black hair, long enough at the top so that she can style it a little with wax. Could easily become an afro if given time. Dark skin, tats on her arms highlighted in white ink. Average height, a little on the slim side, but has a toned build.

Laidback and calm. Really enjoys movies and series, has a thing for animation and dubbing. Very good at drawing and impersonations. Voice actress / Music producer

Always humming or whistling, she's content to spend her time looking for shapes in the clouds. She's more sentimental than she cares to admit and often struggles with her feelings when she knows that they don't respond to a logical behaviour, which often leads her to close off and avoid important conversations.

*What she wants in a partner: chill, no over-the-top romance, no pretence. *Goods you get: honest, creative, independent, loyal. *Bads you get: trust issues, reluctant to talk, ignores problems.

Route: let's wing it.

Says: "No need to dress up or hold back a guffaw. I want to truly see you for who you are from the start." But means: "I think every little change in other's behaviour conceals a lie or intent to cheat me. Please don't lie to me."

♥ Margot ♥

Almond-shaped hazel eyes. Long, strawberry blond hair always up in a tight French twist, or a low ponytail if she's going to bed. It's uncommon to see her with her hair down. Tan, freckled skin and hazel eyes. Curvy, doesn't look that short, but reality hits when she allows herself to climb down her high heels.

Gruffiness born out of social anxiety. Surprisingly family oriented. High salary at an important firm. Stiff but compassionate, she's a bitter realist. Lawyer.

A little rough and forceful, she'll make you feel as if you're applying for a girlfriend position instead of organically getting to know her. She's so concentrated in discovering if she's compatible with the other contestants that she overlooks the fact that she has to open up and allow them to get to know her, too.

*What she wants in a partner: family oriented, mature, understanding. *Goods you get: family oriented, devoted, nurturing, tough love. *Bads you get: impatient, approaches dating as an interview, not willing to compromise. …Tough love.

Route: romance bureaucrat turned softie

Says: "I want a wife but the girlfriend stage is such a hassle" But means: "I don't want to waste my time in shallow relationships when all I want is someone to share my whole self and life with."

♥Dawn♥

Deep set brown eyes, dyed blond hair in a wavy pixie cut, but it's naturally a soft chestnut brown in colour. Sharp features, thin nose and lips. Dimpled cheeks.

Confident, master of the innuendo. Loves good (and bad) wordplays and puns. She'd be the intersection in a Venn diagram between Witticism and Self Awareness. Her ability to both fill silences and end discussions in an entertaining manner make her an invaluable asset for any TV show.

Her bold nature lead many to mistake her openness for invitations to go further, which can end badly if anyone dares put a hand on her without her explicit permission.

Openly queer, Dawn is a big fish in the little pond of reality dating shows. Her newcomer label didn't stop her from making a splash from her very first episode. Now a coveted host in the reality world, she turned now the chance to renew her contract with the show that saw her become famous in favour of the upcoming Soul Sister.

*What she wants in a partner: respect, communication, commitment. *Goods you get: intelligent, dependable, romantic, sensible. *Bads you get: paranoid, obdurate, overly perfectionist. …Married.

Route: trying to stay in love while falling for someone else

Says:

"People would be better off if they listened to their brain more often than their hearts. Or loins." But means:

"I consider my actions so thoroughly that them proving to be a mistake makes me feel like a worthless idiot."

[alexstalkers]

Here For You

in which you are the newest member of the bau and help reid with a problem that helps you get to know him better...

season 6 criminal minds

includes: black fem fbi agent, dr. spencer reid

The tension in the BAU had become almost unbearable. Since Emily’s “death,” everything felt off, broken, like a crucial piece of their family was missing. You’d noticed Spencer Reid taking it especially hard, and while everyone else was struggling, he seemed to be slowly unraveling. His usual sharp, articulate self had grown quieter, more withdrawn, the familiar spark in his eyes dulled.

One afternoon, as you stood in the kitchenette pouring coffee, you caught Reid sitting at his desk, fingers rubbing his temples. You’d noticed the small, subtle signs over the last few weeks—the pinched expression, the way his shoulders slumped a little more each day, his normally neat hair beginning to look a little disheveled. Something was wrong.

You approached, careful not to startle him. “Hey, Reid,” you said softly, sitting down beside him. “You okay? You’ve seemed… off lately.”

He looked up at you, a faint hint of surprise crossing his face before he quickly masked it. “Just… headaches,” he muttered. “I’ve been getting them for a while.”

Your brow furrowed. “How long?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his glasses. “Months. The only person I told was Prentiss. I didn’t want anyone else to… baby me.”

Your heart ached for him, knowing how close he and Emily had been. “I get it,” you said softly. “But you don’t have to deal with that alone. If you need anything, I’m here.”

Reid seemed to hesitate before nodding. “Thanks. I’ve just been trying to get through it.”

You smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “When I get headaches, I usually dim the lights, put on some instrumental music, and throw a warm towel over my forehead. It’s not a cure, but it helps.” You gave him a gentle nudge. “Try it and come back with results.”

The next day, Reid appeared at your desk, looking marginally better. “The music thing,” he started, looking slightly uncomfortable, “it worked for a while. But then I got another headache a few hours later.”

You frowned. “Okay, so we try something else.” Over the next few days, you worked with him, suggesting different methods—hydration, deep breathing exercises, even meditation. But nothing seemed to give him lasting relief.

“Maybe you should see a doctor,” you said one afternoon, concerned about the persistence of his symptoms. “Get some medication or—”

“No,” he interrupted quickly, his voice sharper than usual. He immediately looked away, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow but decided not to push. “Okay,” you said carefully. “But if this keeps up, you really should consider it.”

A few days later, Reid approached you again, but this time he was wearing sunglasses inside, an obvious sign that his headaches were worsening. “I’m sorry about the weirdness the other day,” he said quietly. “I just… there’s something I haven’t told you.”

You tilted your head in curiosity, waiting for him to continue.

“A few years ago,” he began, hesitating as if the words were heavy on his tongue, “I had a problem. With pills. It started with the headaches, but it spiraled out of control. I don’t want to go through that again, especially now with… Emily.”

Understanding dawned on you, and your heart sank. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm gently. “I’m sorry, Reid. I didn’t know.” You paused, choosing your words carefully. “I didn’t mean to make things weird, I just… I care about you, and I don’t want to see you suffer. If there’s anything I can do to help, please, let me know. You can call me anytime.”

Reid gave a small, appreciative smile, and for the first time in weeks, you saw a flicker of warmth in his eyes. “Thanks. I mean it.”

“Anytime,” you repeated, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before standing to grab some coffee. Things were heavy, but at least Reid knew he wasn’t alone. Maybe, just maybe, that would help him start to heal.

After your heart-to-heart with Reid, you couldn’t help but notice a shift in your dynamic. He sought you out more often, whether it was for help with his headaches or just to talk. You found yourselves lingering over conversations, sitting at the same table during team meals, and sometimes exchanging small, knowing glances during briefings. It was subtle at first, but undeniable.

One evening, after a particularly grueling case, the team had decided to head out for drinks, but Reid had declined, as he often did. You had stayed behind too, using the excuse of catching up on paperwork, but in truth, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him.

As you filed away reports, Reid appeared at your desk. “Hey, you’re still here,” he said, sounding both surprised and slightly relieved.

You shrugged, glancing up with a small smile. “Yeah, thought I’d finish some paperwork. You okay?”

He looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at you. “Actually… I was wondering if you wanted to come over. I know it’s late, but I’ve been trying to implement some of the things we talked about, and, well, maybe you could help me figure out what’s working?”

You could tell there was more to his invitation—an underlying need for company that wasn’t being voiced. “Sure, I’d love to.”

A couple of hours later, you were sitting on Reid’s couch, the lights dimmed as he set up his record player. Soft classical music filled the room, and a warm towel rested on his forehead, the makeshift remedy you’d suggested earlier. The space was small, cozy, filled with books and the odd pieces of evidence that told stories of who he was.

“Feeling any better?” you asked, leaning back against the cushions.

Reid adjusted his towel, nodding slightly. “Yeah, actually. The music helps calm my mind. And the dim lighting—it’s nice.”

You smiled softly. “I’m glad.”

There was a pause, the silence between you filled only by the sound of the record spinning in the background. Reid suddenly sat up, tossing the towel aside and facing you. His gaze lingered on you a little longer than usual.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about… everything. About Emily, about the team, about you.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “Me?”

He nodded. “You’ve been there for me, more than anyone has. And it’s not just about the headaches. I don’t feel so… alone when I’m with you.”

His confession left you momentarily speechless, your heart beating faster as the weight of his words settled between you. You had always cared about Reid—his brilliant mind, his kind heart—but somewhere along the way, your feelings had shifted, deepened. And now, hearing that he felt something similar, it was hard to keep the emotions at bay.

“I feel the same,” you admitted, your voice soft. “It’s been good—spending time with you. I think… I think I needed it too.”

Reid’s eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside his apartment disappeared. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand. The gesture was small, but it sent a wave of warmth through you.

“I’m not sure what this is,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I don’t want to lose it.”

You squeezed his hand gently, meeting his gaze. “Neither do I.”

In that moment, the distance between you seemed to close on its own. Reid leaned in, his breath warm against your skin, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, soft and tentative, as if he was still testing the waters. You responded in kind, the kiss deepening as the emotions you’d both kept at bay spilled over.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Reid’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

“Sorry,” he whispered, though the smile on his face suggested he wasn’t sorry at all.

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Don’t be.”

For the first time in weeks, Reid looked at peace, the weight of the world no longer visible in his tired eyes. And as you sat there together, the music still playing softly in the background, you realized just how much had changed between you—and how much more you were ready to embrace.

i hope you guys liked this one! it's been long overdue, I've had a lot going on lately, going to try and be consistent! Please request what you want to read, it doesn't have to black fem, it can be any race, any gender, etc. I am still currently only writing in the three fanbases that I have posted for right now, but I am going to post more when I get the chance and get more consistent on the three that I already have!

[awkward-walking-potato]

sssoooooo.. I have this OC. They were experimented on for many years, and their appearance is grey skinned, somewhat skinny with white voided eyes, and no mouth. How would Logan react to the new recruit for the X-Men and their appearance? (ps, they have good agility and are very capable of fighting :3)

Eyes of the Void

The morning air was brisk as Logan stood outside the X-Mansion, arms crossed over his chest, eyes squinting at the sky. Charles had mentioned a new recruit—a mutant who’d been through hell, experimented on for years. Logan had seen a lot in his time, but the details Charles hinted at made his gut twist. He wasn't easily unsettled, but something about the description of this recruit got under his skin.

The black SUV rolled up to the mansion gates, and Logan straightened, feeling that familiar sense of readiness. He didn’t like surprises. He liked to know who he was dealing with, what they could do, and how to protect his team from any potential threat. But Charles had vouched for them, and that was enough for him. For now.

The door to the vehicle swung open, and out stepped the recruit. Logan’s brows furrowed as he took them in. Their skin was ashen grey, thin yet wiry in a way that suggested hidden strength. Their eyes—white, voided, devoid of any color or light—were the first thing he noticed. No pupils, no irises, just blank, staring spaces where human eyes should be. Most unsettling, however, was the absence of a mouth. Logan had met plenty of mutants with physical mutations, but this was different. They looked otherworldly, like something out of a nightmare.

Still, he didn’t flinch. He’d seen enough to know that appearances didn’t mean everything. It was their abilities that mattered.

“Logan,” Charles said telepathically from inside the mansion, “I trust you to handle their introduction to the team. They’ve been through a lot, and they’ll need time to adjust.”

Logan gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving the recruit as they approached him. Their movements were fluid, almost unnaturally agile, and it became clear to Logan that despite their appearance, they were capable—maybe even more than capable.

“So, you’re the new recruit,” Logan said, his voice rough but steady. “Name’s Logan. I’ve seen a lotta folks come through these doors. Some with mutations that mess with their minds, others that mess with their bodies. Don’t care what you look like. Just care if you can fight.”

The recruit tilted their head slightly, as if studying him. There was no way to gauge their emotions with those blank eyes, but Logan didn’t need expressions to read people. He could feel their tension, their wariness. He knew that look—the look of someone who’s been pushed past their limits, experimented on until their body and soul were stretched thin.

They raised a hand and signed something with quick, efficient gestures. Logan blinked, not following the sign language, but he understood enough to know they were trying to communicate.

“You don’t speak, huh?” Logan grunted, then gave a small, understanding nod. “We’ll figure it out.”

Without a word, the recruit crouched down, then launched themselves into a backflip, landing effortlessly on the nearby fence post, balancing with the ease of a seasoned acrobat. Logan’s brow lifted. They were fast—damn fast. The agility they displayed wasn’t just impressive; it was near-superhuman.

He walked closer, his sharp gaze assessing every movement they made. “You move like you’ve been doin’ this your whole life. Where’d you learn to fight?”

They tilted their head again, and Logan had a feeling he wasn’t going to get an answer—not in words, at least. They jumped down from the fence, landing silently in front of him, and suddenly lunged into a sparring stance. Logan instinctively braced himself, ready for whatever was coming.

The recruit struck fast, a blur of grey limbs and precision. Logan blocked the first few hits, but he could tell they were holding back. They were testing him, just like he was testing them. He let them land a few more strikes, each one sharp and calculated, but none with the intent to hurt.

“Not bad,” Logan grunted, stepping back and shaking out his arms. “But if you’re gonna be on this team, you’ll need to hit harder than that.”

The recruit stopped, standing still as if waiting for him to continue. Logan took a breath and regarded them, his tone softening. “Look, kid. I get it. I’ve been where you are. You’ve been through hell. Don’t mean you gotta do this alone.”

The recruit blinked, their expression—or lack thereof—remaining unreadable, but there was a shift in the air between them. Slowly, they nodded.

Logan didn’t reach out to touch them; he knew better than to invade someone’s space when they’d been hurt. But he gave them a small, reassuring nod. “You got potential. And this place? We’ll help you figure it out.”

They turned to look at the mansion, then back at him, nodding once more.

“C’mon, let’s get you settled in,” Logan said, turning toward the mansion. “You’ll fit in here better than you think.”

As they walked side by side toward the entrance, Logan couldn't help but glance at them again. Their appearance may have been jarring at first, but he could already see past it. What mattered was what lay underneath—the strength, the resilience, and the determination in those movements.

No matter what they’d been through, Logan knew one thing for sure: this recruit was ready to fight. And with a little time, they’d be a damn good addition to the X-Men.

[joannechocolat]

On Turning 60

When I was a child, someone told me: “Every life is a story.” I used to wonder what mine would be like; what adventures I would have. My favourite stories were from Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, which my grandfather used to read to me:  thus I imagined my own story as a forest adventure in which I would run wild with my friends, and pick fruit by the wayside. I never imagined growing old, just as I never imagined the adults around me ever being young. And death, if I thought of it at all, was a monster that kept to the shadows, and never dared to show its face outside of the scariest stories.

I was four years old when I first encountered the monster. It was in France, when my great-grandmother died, having been taken suddenly ill as she and I were playing a game. I still remember that suddenness, and my mother’s tears, and the whispers of “not in front of the children”, and the various well-meaning relatives trying in their different ways, to explain to me why I shouldn’t be sad, how at sixty-five, Mémée was old, how death was completely natural, and that she was watching us from above. These stories varied considerably, from the fanciful to the macabre. Even at four, it didn’t take long for me to understand that the grown-ups were as much in the dark as I was about the whole affair. Children are analytical. They process information according to what they have been told. And at four, I concluded, both with certainty and a singular horror, that Mémée’s story was over, that death happened to everyone, and that I had more or less sixty years of life before it happened to me. For years after that, I would lie awake at night and think of the monster waiting for me in the dark, and tell myself that sixty years was a very, very long time, and that this suffocating fear would pass with age and experience.

Now I’m approaching sixty. At sixty, we’re meant to examine our lives, and think about mortality. And yes, it seems like a very long time. It also feels as if no time at all has passed since the night my great-grandmother died, and I first encountered the truth that lives at the heart of all fairytales. That was when I decided, with relentless, childish logic, that if death was the ultimate monster, then perhaps I could only hope to keep them at bay with stories.

And so I began to tell stories, first to myself, in secret, and then to anyone who would listen. Of course it took me a long, long time to understand that what I was really doing was trying to make sense of the world. In a universe of chaos, stories give a shape to our lives. They teach us to believe in love; to mistrust what is too easily won; to know that every stranger could be a deity in disguise. They teach us that happy endings exist; that kindness can sometimes bring reward; that life, like so many of the stories we read as children, is a journey through the woods, where anything can happen.

This is the advice I’d give my younger self, if I could. Life is like a story with a beginning, a middle, an end. It is not always as structured or as ordered as a story might be, and some are longer than others, but the journey is ours in part to direct. We can choose the paths we take, the places in which to linger. We can choose the people we travel with, the ones we make a part of our lives. Choose wisely, I would tell my younger self at the start of my journey; not everyone who seems friendly is a friend. True friends are not easy to come by; always cherish the ones you find. And bear in mind that the journey matters more than the destination. We live in a world where everything seems focussed on the future; events to plan; deadlines to meet; months and seasons flashing by. Time seems to accelerate as we get older; and yet there are ways to slow it down. We don’t have to rush through everything in order to rush through something else. We can exist in the moment. Stop. Pick the flowers. Feel the sun. Remember we only pass this way once, and that every step is a privilege.

These woods are filled with obstacles, and challenges, and wonder. Not all paths through it are easy. Stay curious, I would tell myself. Never stop asking questions. Wear your achievements lightly, and don’t be afraid of failure. Failures are a sign you tried; markers on the road to success. And as a teacher of 15 years, one thing I have learnt is this: There are no teachers, just pupils. We are able to learn from every angle, every stage of our lives. Elders may speak from experience, but some of the most important things I have learnt have been from younger people. Bringing up my son has been the lesson of a lifetime; I learn new things from him every day. So take your lessons where you can, and pay them back to others in kind. And don’t be afraid to make mistakes: mistakes are part of your story too, every one a lesson learnt, every one a challenge.

Nor should you fear the changes that time imposes on us. Change is what drives your story. Sometimes it brings grief and loss; sometimes, unexpected joy. And don’t be ashamed of the signs of age: in a world in which youth is prized far above experience, it’s all too easy to feel diminished by wrinkles and imperfections. But your body is a living map of everything you have experienced. Everything leaves marks on you. Childbirth; laughter; damage; grief. Be proud of those marks. They are proof that you have lived. When I look at my face now I see the faces of my family. I see my mother, my grandmother. I carry their stories inside me, coiled as tight as DNA. And I have told them again and again, just as they were told to me. We process the world through stories. We learn to live through stories. Through stories we connect with the past and understand where we came from. I mostly know my great-grandmother from stories my mother told me. The story of the day she died; her life in rural, wartime France; her recipes; her sayings; her jokes. Through stories, my son can know her, even though they never met. And of course, you know her too: she was the prototype for Armande, the fierce old woman in Chocolat. Through stories, people can live on, and be loved and understood. This is one of the things I have learnt on my journey through the woods; perhaps the most important thing: Remember to tell your stories.

Now, after many stories, I’m reaching that part of the forest where monsters lurk in the darkness. Three years ago, I had a brush with a monster I called Mr C - an aggressive kind of cancer, which luckily was found early. I survived that encounter, thanks to the care and vigilance of the NHS, but one of the lessons it taught me is that life is fragile, and precious, and short - much shorter than we imagine. Over the past few years I have lost too many loved ones to Mr C. One of them was my grandfather. Another was my oldest friend. Some were writers: Iain Banks, Jenny Diski, Graham Joyce. I have carried their stories with me, just as I carry the stories of my parents and grandparents. I hope my son will do the same. We stay alive through stories.

But right now, at sixty, I don’t feel old. I doubt anyone who loves stories really ever does. I remember Ray Bradbury telling me, at 81, that when he looked in the mirror, he saw a ten-year old boy with inexplicably white hair. And he was still writing–furiously, sublimely - till the day he died. I can relate: time is speeding up, and there are stories left to tell. I sometimes find myself trying to calculate how many I’ll have time to get down, especially as they’re still popping up like mushrooms all around me. I am more conscious of time passing by. I feel the change of the seasons in a way I didn’t before. But my walk in the woods has been beautiful. I have fulfilled my greatest dreams. I do what I love for a living. I’ve travelled the world, and had many adventures, and met many interesting people. I’m married to someone I love, who loves me. I have a son who makes me proud, and who I love more than words can say. I’ve faced down monsters, and survived. I’ve learnt a lot, sometimes the hard way. But as the French author Jules Renard (a favourite of my grandfather’s) once said: “Aim to die with regrets, not remorse.” I think I’m on the right side of that. And in spite of what I thought at four, approaching sixty is nothing to fear. There are still unwritten chapters to my story to be lived; places to discover, new things to learn. I mean to explore all those things, and more. I want to climb mountains. To travel through space. To see the depths of the ocean. Some of those things I may never know except in stories, but books are the way in which we live our many alternative, possible lives. I feel I’m just beginning to understand what matters to me; to find my equilibrium in this vast, bewildering world. For so many years, being sixty felt like the end of a journey. Now I see that it’s only another clearing in the woods. Maybe I’ll sit here awhile. Enjoy the sunshine. Pick the fruit. But soon I’ll be on my way again, picking up stories wherever I go. Because no story ever ends, not really. It just travels somewhere else, picked up by another storyteller. So, to whoever picks up my story, good luck with it. Maybe give me a wave. But for now, I think I’ve seen a path at the end of the clearing. It’s new, and therefore exciting, and promises adventure. I think I’ll follow it awhile; see what fruits are growing there. Stories flourish along these paths. Let’s see which ones I can find. After all, that’s what I do. And those monsters won’t defeat themselves.