#a fellow french asks

[themidnightpanda]

just had a conversation for like 10 minutes straight and am very shaky but still operational everyone be proud of me

[penseesauvage]

Trouver des français sur Tumblr c'est pas genre un mirage?

Hehe on existe aussi 😊

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[eustasskidagenda]

anon asked: Hi, fellow Kid-Stan, I love your writing, it's so well-written! So I hope my request isn't too weird, but would you mind writing some headcanons with a fem reader afraid of having sex with Kidd, Zoro, Law and Sanji if that's okay. Like because the reader is stressed about getting hurt (maybe because of their size or because it’s been a long time since the last time the reader had sex, no heavy topic involved!) Thank you if you consider writing this scenario and please, can I stay anon if you post this?

Hello, dear anon! Thank you for requesting and your kind words, it was interesting to think about how those dummies would act in this situation. I hope you'll like the result.♡

☆Kid, Zoro, Law & Sanji with a s/o afraid of having sex

CW : n/sfw, MDNI, f!reader, size kink, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), v. sex, unprotected sex, protected sex, dirty talk, praises, Sanji talking in French because I could die for this, Kid is cursing as always, let me know if I forgot something

WC : around 2,000

You can read the part two here & the part three here

Kid

Let's assume it's your first time in the same bed: Kid being... Kid, his first reaction would be to grin cockily or even laugh proudly. He thinks you're actually praising him for his size. Please keep going, it’s music to his ears. He loves praises and when you acknowledge his size. It fuels his ego tremendously. "I know it's big, that's enough praise. Wait, were you talking seriously?" 

Seriously, Kid, ugh. 

So, once he realized you're not praising him but rather really stressed, he's still pleased with himself.

Kid is a man of action; talking, trying to understand, or reassuring is not something he's easily able to do. Because honestly, he would just say something like "it's just sex, I'm not gonna hurt ya, look how wet you are" 

Whenever there's a problem, he's more inclined to take action to find a solution. So his first reaction is to ask if you want to stop. Although he may be cocky and carefree, he would never cause harm to anyone he truly cares about. And no one will have a good time if you're too stressed. Totally pointless. 

So you have to tell him you want to continue, but you're nervous because Kid is not the one to indulge into sweetness and his size doesn't make things more easily. 

"Then, come get what you want by yourself" he would say before laying on his back, his cock twitching impatiently. Kid doesn't often let his partner ride him, except when he's feeling tired. His body is truly a beautiful throne to sit on. A toned and beautiful body, covered with scars, like war paint, full of stories and secrets.

Once you finally straddle him, he would hold your hips firmly as you line your wet pussy up to his cockhead. When you slowly impale yourself on his thick member, he would let out a low, animalistic growl of satisfaction. You feel too tight around him, and you feel too full with him buried deep inside you, stretching your walls. 

He would guide you down his cock until his balls deep inside you. The expression of pure delight on his face is truly mesmerizing. Riding someone as tough and impressive is quite intimidating, so he would hold your hips, helping you to move up and down, as you slowly adjust to him. "Fuck, look at you, taking me all the way in like the good girl you're"

He feels your walls tightening him as you start to move faster.

"Take it easy" That's the moment you will hear his shaky breath and deep growls. He can't handle how good you feel. So wet, so hot, so tight as you walls spasms around him. His cock is throbbing inside you and he grit his teeth, holding your hips that firmly it will leave bruises on your skin tomorrow.

He's truly trying his best to not just hold your hips and slams inside you as his usual rough and merciless pace. He wants to transform you into a whiny mess. 

"Shit, y/n, let me fuck you." 

And once you finally get used to him, then prepare yourself for the wildest ride of your life. You better hold onto those sheets tightly. Because he will slap your ass, pull on your hair and fuck you with enough intensity to leave you breathless and exhausted.

Zoro

Zoro has not a lot of experience because he's way too focused on his goal of becoming the greatest swordsman ever. Even when it comes to sex, he's a bit oblivious. So you better have to be precise and explain things correctly, so that it takes over his mind. As Kid, he's not a man of many words, he doesn't really know how to reassure you. Like, okay, it's been a while since the last time you had sex, but the same applies to him. At least you're in the same situation, isn't that nice?

He's trying his best.

Once he's sure you want to keep going, he will consider the whole thing like a training: everyone needs a good warm-up. So prepare yourself to have your pussy eat for a long, long time and to cum at least once against his lips. He may not be the most experienced, but he learns quickly and your body language is like talking to him. 

He would then slowly push two fingers inside you, feeling how wet you are for him. "Looks like my girl is ready for me, yeah?" 

Try not to be too embarrassed when he hungrily licks his fingers covered in your wetness, like if it were a precious cup of sake. The way your body looks and tastes is truly intoxicating. How could he get enough of your shivering, moaning, sweating, begging, and slow pleads when his head is buried between your thighs? 

"Now open your legs for me" 

Eyes darkening with lust as he sees your folds exposed, his cock twitching and throbbing. Although he is thick, he never realized it. So you better prepare yourself. 

He would look into your eyes just to be sure you're still willing, before placing his hands on your shoulders to pinning you down the mattress, shifting his weight so he can position himself at your entrance. 

Thrust forward, filling you up in one swift motion. He's completely focused, as if it's an important battle. And actually, he's really struggling to stay nice and slow for you. He's quiet. Breathe deeply and make low grunts close to your ear.  When you begin to scratch his back, he becomes confused. Why are you doing this? Does it hurt or feel good? "You doing okay?" 

If you tell him you need more now, he will give it to you as hard as you want.

"Such a brave girl"

Law

As a good doctor, his first reaction is to understand the cause of the problem. Is it a physical or psychological problem? Sex can be painful if you're experiencing too much stress or vaginismus. If he wants to help you feel better, he needs to understand what's going on. He’s a logical man, he can't act without a good understanding of what's happening. 

He would probably cover your body too, in order to preserve your intimacy while you explain him you're just a bit stressed because it's been a long time and you often face pain when it comes to sex. 

"Sex isn't supposed to hurt or to be stressful. Do you want to continue?" 

As you slowly nodded, he would kiss your forehead and then slowly remove the bedsheets, revealing your bare body to himself. 

He wants to reassure you even if he struggles with intimacy, including in the bedroom. He's not that kind of guy having sex with random people. If you end up in the same bed, it's because he genuinely cares about you. And damn, he definitely knows how to take care of your body too. He has divine hands. Good to heal, but also to help you reach new heights. The way he runs his hands along your body, your inner thighs, your pussy, and then your clit causes shivers down your spine. 

And when he slides two fingers inside your core, damn, the only thing you can do is arches your back and beg for more. He’s the king of fingering. You can't help but cum as his thumb circles your clit while he pushes his long fingers in and out of you. When he removes them, his tattoos are soaked with your wetness, you are flustered, and he's content with himself. He can't help but grins, licking his fingers while watching your reaction closely. Even in bed, Law likes to tease you.

"Need me so bad, y/n-a?" with a slight pinch on your nipple 

He's a doctor, so he will wear a condom. Even if you're wet, he'll reach for the bottle of lubricant and then sloshing some onto his palm before smearing it over his length. The emo boy myth is true because his cock is long.

Usually, Law struggles with eye contact, it's too intimate for his sake. But for once, he will let you lie on your back, spreading your thighs enough to fit in between. His tattooed chest slowly rises up with each breath, making him look beautiful over you. 

"You're ready?" 

He's a smart and careful person, so he'll go slowly and check your expression to ensure you're alright. He feels the tightness around his cock. So wet, so hot. His hands are shaking on your hips while he gently steady you. "Everything's fine?"

Slow and deep strokes as you trace the tattoos on his arms and chest. With his lips sealed to yours, he swallows all of your moans. And his low, deep breaths are leaving you in shambles.

Sanji

Oh, sweet Sanji. Similar to Zoro, he's not the most experienced, but he has a kind and compassionate soul. He would let you explain yourself, running his hands all over your shoulders, hair and stomach, trying to soothe you as you confess you're scared because it's been a while since the last time you had sex.

Sanji would never judge you. He would offer you sweet kisses to cover your body, promising to take things at your own pace. And if you need to stop, please just tell him. He would try his best to hide that he's a bit nervous too; nervous about hurting you or not being good enough for you. 

Gentle kisses on your neck, breasts, lower stomach, inner thighs, and hands running all over your skin, fondling your breasts softly with a heavenly touch. He wants to take good care of every inch of your skin because your body is so precious, perfect and beautiful. All your shivering, moaning, and the way you look at him with pure love on your face... it melts his heart. He desperately wants to be inside you, but he'll never rush the whole thing. Like a good meal, sex deserves to be appreciated. 

Probably the king of oral sex, he could keep his head burring between your thighs for the entire day and still can't get enough of how good you pussy feel and taste. He is fond of eating you out, hearing you moan, feeling you shivering and beg for more. The way your body is arching, how you grab his hair, pressing his lips more firmly against your wet folds. Not only do his hands know how to cook, but they also know how to please your body. Slowly circling your clit, fondling your breasts, and caring for every inch of your skin, making you melt and beg for more. You forgot you were tensed and stressed with all his attention. 

Sanji being Sanji, he would love to bind your wrists with his tie, but he knows it's not the time for this. "I need to be inside you, mon amour" (my love)  His cock is painfully hard and twitching, leaking in pre-cum.

As you spread your legs, letting him know that you're ready for more, Sanji would try his best to hide how stressed he really is. He doesn't want to hurt you. Fingers entwined with yours, a lot of eye contact as he slowly pushes his cock inside you. "Shh, it's okay. You're so tight. Laisse-moi te faire l'amour" (let me make love to you)

You softly moan as he penetrates you completely. You were stressed about getting hurt after such a long time without having sex, but Sanji is so soft that it didn't hurt even a bit. Even if you're relaxed, he would ask, "Am I hurting you?" And when you confirm that everything is more than fine, he can't help but sigh in relief. His fingers are still entwined with yours as you use your other hand to softly pull on his hair.

Slow and deep strokes. "C'est si bon d'être en toi" (it feels so good to be inside you) He is not ashamed of moaning. Moans that are really pretty. The feeling of your skin against his, how wet and welcoming you are inside. This is too much for him to handle. 

Naturally, when it came to aftercare, he would rush to the kitchen to make you a good meal. 

Sanji is so sweet please, help.

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[catcze]

not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

[pitchsidestories]

healing II Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1644

It’s a truth universally acknowledged, that two successful female players, must be in want of the biggest title in Europe, but also want to impress their girlfriend with this huge achievement.

Playing for pride and love on the biggest stage.  The stadium in Bilbao was full of supporters of both teams, although the Barca fans were outnumbering the Lyon fans by far.

Meanwhile the second half had started, and the game was getting more heated and intense, the final was slowly slipping away from the French players fingertips, while the team of your girlfriends was gaining momentum. You watched everything unfold in front of your eyes with Lucy Staniforth who has been a friend of Lucy and Ona for a long time at this point.

“Lucy, have you seen how Lyon knocked over their former teammate?”, you asked her. It enraged you how the Lyonnais players were treating Lucy Bronze on the pitch.

“I did!”, she added in a more calm and reassuring tone, but Lucy is tough.”

“Yes, you’re right, but this was still harsh from them.”, you nodded.

“I agree. But it’s the UWCL final.”, the Aston Villa midfielder reminded you and herself. There was so much to win and loose over 90 minutes plus added stoppage time. You could almost taste the anticipation and pressure radiating from both teams on your tongue. So did your friend next to you.

The match went on, but when suddenly Ona was on the ground and Lucy Staniforth told you earnestly:” Don’t look, y/n.”

Her saying that only caused you to glance at the horrific situation closer, turning pale at the sight of your girlfriend, whose face had started to bleed heavily:” What, why? Oh no, Ona!”

“I said don’t look. That’s a lot of blood.”, she observed quietly. The horror the fellow footballer felt was written in her face too.

“Does she need to get off?”, you questioned her worried.

“No, I don’t think so.”, the midfielder slowly shook her head.

“Ona wouldn’t want to anyway, not when it’s about her first Champions League title.”, you thought out loud.

“They’re checking her.”, Lucy Staniforth remarked.

“Ona’s tough too.”, you mumbled unable to look away from your girlfriend’s red face.

“You’re right, but it’s so much blood.”, the older woman swallowed hard.

“It’s. God, I wish I could somehow do something.”, you cried out helplessly.

“You can’t. Stay here.”, she replied rationally, holding you back with her hand on your upper arm, so you wouldn’t move.

“But-.”

“They covered it. She’s coming back on.”, the midfielder interrupted you. Looking back at the pitch it filled you both with relief, seeing Ona doing alright for now.

You watched on as Ona took the pitch again, a white band-aid on her cheek.

“This will hurt tomorrow.“, you cringed in sympathy for your girlfriend.

Lucy smiled, trying to loosen up the atmosphere: “I’m pretty sure it already hurts.“

“Yes but I guess the adrenaline will help her now.“, you shrugged.

“I’m sure.“, Lucy said, fully focused on the game again.

The game was tight and hard-fought. Exactly the kind of game a Champions League final deserved and you were sure you could appreciate it more if you were less worried about your girlfriends.

Only when Alexia came on and scored the 2:0 for Barcelona in stoppage time, you could feel yourself relax. That was it, the game was over. Another UWCL trophy for FC Barcelona.

With the final whistle, you flung your arms around Lucys neck while she pulled you in for a hug to celebrate.

Your gaze drifted towards the players on the grass again.

“Let’s go down there, shall we?“, you asked, trying to keep any impatience out of your voice.

Lucy smirked knowingly at you: “Yes, go to your girlfriends.“

When you entered the pitch, the players were still jumping around in exhilaration and you had to wonder where they got all that energy from after such a game. Your girlfriends stood off to the side.

Lucy was busy examining Onas injury when they caught sight of you.

“Y/n!“, they both called, waving you over.

You hugged your girlfriends with pride: “Hi. Congrats, champions.“

“Hi, babe.“ Lucy pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How are you both? Oni, yours looked especially bad.“, you asked, eyeing both your girls cautiously.

Ona shrugged a little self-consciously: “I’m okay. I got her studs in my face. It looks worse than it actually is.“

“Promise?“

The smaller defender nodded: “Promise. It’s just a bit swollen right now.“

You had been able to tell since you arrived on the field. Her cheek was red and the swell almost reached her eye. It looked horribly painful.

“We’ll take care of that. Right, Luce?“

Your English girlfriend nodded, a big grin on her face: “Of course we’ll.“

Ona almost rolled her eyes at the two of you: “Loves, I can assure you I’m alright.“

“I’ll get you some ice later.“, Lucy said, completely ignoring Ona.

The Spanish defender let out a sigh: “It’s fine, really. All I want to do now is to celebrate this big win with you two.“

“Ona…“, you started.

Lucy looked at you, smirking at your girlfriend: “She’s so going to regret that tomorrow.“

“Oh, absolutely.“, you agreed, amused.

Ona groaned: “Don’t talk to me like I’m the child in this relationship!“

“We don’t.“, Lucy laughed, unimpressed by your girlfriends annoyance.

“We’re just making sure that you’re going to be alright.“, you sided with Lucy.

“You should better check on Lucy, she’s older.”, Ona only half joked, bumping the fist playfully against your lover’s upper arm.

“Oh, please, I’m good. Plus wait until you two turn thirty.”, the English woman warned you both grinning.

“That’ll take a while, Lucy.”, the younger defender reminded her.

“Very true, sorry Lucy.”, you quickly switched alliances to your other girlfriend.

“I’ll remind you in a few days.”, Lucy decided.

“That’s basically forever until that.”, you couldn’t resist teasing her. Even when it meant that she was throwing you on her broad shoulders, carrying you over the pitch.

“Hey, let me down.”, you protested giggling.

“No.”, the older player replied. The win had made her forget about her knee which always hurt and made her act recklessly.

You looked for the face of your injured girlfriend, crying out:”Oni, help.”

“Lucy, we don’t want any more injuries.”, Ona intervened.

“I’m careful.”, Lucy promised.

“Hopefully.”, the younger defender said, but she did look relieved once your feet touched the ground again.

After you both were inspecting her wound, the English woman announced:” We’ll take care of you now, Ona.”

“I’m okay, really.”, Ona attempted to wave off the concerns you were both having.

After the party where the team, friends and family let loose, celebrating the champions league win, as well as the nearing end of a long, successful, but also exhausting football season, you three reached the comfort of your hotel room.

“Here’s some ice, amor to help with the swelling.”, you told her in a soft voice before it could touch her skin she stopped you with a tortured smile.

“Too late. I look like this in all the photos.”

“Yes, but you will feel better with it on your skin.”, Lucy stated, knowing fully well from her own experiences with injuries that it was at least providing some kind of relief.

Despite Ona throwing her a doubtful look, she let you do your work:” Okay, fine.”

“And better?”, you asked her quietly.

“A lot.”, the Spanish player closed her eyes in relief. Giving you a perfect view of her long lashes and freckles who were scattered around like stars in the night sky while you were comforting her with the eyes in your hands.

 “That’s good.”, you nodded happily.

“Thanks, my girls.”, Ona mumbled gratefully.  

“You’re welcome.”, Lucy whispered, while squeezing the younger woman’s hand.

Watching your girlfriends’ interactions moved you and made you feel warm and proud inside.  Especially when you were thinking about what they achieved today with their team.

“You two really left it all on the pitch today.”, you remarked in awe.

“It helped to know that you were in the stands.”, the Spanish defender confessed as she pressed a thankful kiss to your temple.

“It did?”, you lifted an eyebrow.

Nodding, Lucy joined in: “I can confirm that.“

“But I did nothing…“, you interrupted, feeling stupid to get all the praise when your girlfriends where the ones fighting on the pitch.

Lucy carefully ran her thumb across your cheek, cradling your head in her hand: “You were there. That was enough.“

You could melt at the sound of her voice. “Thanks, girls. Tonight was really special.“

“Yeah, for us too. Trust us.“, Ona smiled softly.

“I do. But now it’s time for healing.“, you decided, nodding towards the bed.

Ona sighed: “But only for a bit.“

You knew how much your girls hated to sit still and relax. Especially when it involved injuries.

You were surprised that Lucy immediately moved towards the bed. She sat down and patted the mattress next to her: “Come on, girls. Let’s try to rest, tomorrow will be just as crazy.“

You crawled into bed next to her. Ona followed you and took the place in the middle.

Happily, you smiled at the two football players, still moved by the events of that evening: “Good night, my champion girlfriends.“

“Sleep well, our pretty WAG.“, Ona grinned back.

You let out an amused huff. You never imagined yourself as the girlfriend of a football player and yet here you were, in bed with two of the most amazing women on the night of the Champions League final.

As you listened to the slowed breathing of your girlfriends, you realized that you would not change a single thing. There was still some concern about Ona's wound, but in overall contentment you also fell asleep.

[kamotecue]

imagine a KCC fic where they are trying to hide their relationship from the media but the fans are catching them doing everything (like walks together, going on holidays Mcfoord type shit) and they’re just debating wether to co form it or tease the fans

secret's out ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x fem!reader

a soft hum escaped your lips as the australian wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her as she softly chuckled against your skin. she leaned against you, hiding her head in the crook of your neck as you softly smiled at her actions. it wasn't easy being a long distance couple, you both represented the australian team - you as a striker, and her as a midfielder, completing each other perfectly as you both had a few plays. the midfielder plays in the women's super league, playing for arsenal, the team you had supported since childhood while you play in the french league, alongside ellie carpenter, a national and club teammate of yours.

"i missed you" kyra's voice was softer than usual as you chuckled at her, before placing a lovely kiss on the crown of her head. "missed you too, sugar."

"we have a few more hours before the team dinner, is there anything you'd like to do?" you asked, as the midfielder stepped back to properly look at you, her eyebrows furrowed as you patiently waited to know that she was thinking of things to do. you noticed how she grabbed your hand softly swinging it, as she hummed and that's when you knew she had already decided on something.

"how about the arcade, and then let's settle for ice cream." you raised your eyebrows, ice cream before dinner - wouldn't that ruin the appetite. but you gave her a nod, giving her a small grin as she led you away from the hotel and onto the streets. the arcade was only a walk from the hotel, as you had your camera in hand - clearly taking photos of the day, as the two of you had been soft launching your relationship. the fans have noticed it, and certainly your national teammates have too, but they've always thought that the pair of you two were just best friends.

"ha! you lose." kyra shouted, as you chuckled at the loudness of her voice. subtly glancing to see if anyone had heard, and they did - but they had averted their eyes as you softly shook your head at your lover who snickered at your screen. you were always competitive, the both of you were - but if there was a game that you unfortunately suck at would be the car racing games.

"you always choose this game to break the tie" as you walked forwards, kyra instantly grabbing your right hand - interlocking your fingers together as you walked side by side, leaving the arcade and searching for an ice cream shop. you were scrolling through instagram, taking a peak at the photos you both posted on your individual stories, sooner or later there was bound to be a tiktok edit about it.

"thinking about the hard launch soon, love?" kyra asked, as she peaked at your phone - passing it to her as she hummed, stopping on a photo. it was a picture of your silhouette. "i like this one"

"because it's the one you took right? but yeah, i find it amusing - we're pulling a mcfoord move." you joked, making her laugh - but it's true, the irish and your fellow national teammate have been soft launching their relationship.

the two of you continued to talk about life, simply catching up as there were a few stories you never told her - just like there were stories she didn't tell you. as the two of you walked to the resturant where the team dinner was held, you watched as she went through the photos you took, quickly picking a few as she showed you.

"let's hard launch these." kyra said, as you came to a stop, flipping through the photos. the first one she chose was a mirror picture of you two, you were the one in front as kyra was the one in the back - you both made a heart shape with one hand.

the rest were simply photos that you two were being carefree, dancing when the sun was close to setting, or her sticking her hand out in the air as you rode the bide safely making sure that you both wouldn't fall - it would be collateral.

when she jumped you on the bed, as you had finally said yes to be her girlfriend - it was after camp had ended. your mother wanted to meet kyra, a simple dinner and when that dinner was over - you brought her to your room - the pictures you had hanged was something she loved.

and lastly, her personal favorite - her hand on top of yours. it's something she loved, she wore your ring in the picture, like she always does.

safe to say, as the mini collage hit the internet, you did get teased by the veteran players of the team. charli was the one teasing kyra the most, as you softly enjoyed it.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

y/nl/n: i guess it was never a secret, was it?

tagged kyracooneyx

liked by katie_mccabe11, kyraandy/nfan, alessiarusso99, and 572,325 others.

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[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

i like to imagine going out to a party or club or bar with steve and kissing him on the corner of his mouth or his cheek or jawline and saying that "youre leaving a mark on him" with your makeup, and he pretends it's annoying or silly or a fuss, but you know it isn't bc he's blushing a little bit and his ears are red and his face splits into a grin the moment youre done

i hope this okay. i didn’t exactly go with the vibe you wanted but this was a version 2. i could always rework my first version for a more soft reader personality. a mini blurb.

steve harrington x fem!reader

masterlist

💗

clubs felt like a safari at times. every guy and girl feeling like a predator to your prey, watchful and hungry eyes following your every move. worst when your boyfriend was looking as handsome as ever and fellow girls couldn’t steer away their gaze. biting their lips and cooling their looks seductively, fixing their bras and messing with their clothing.

it was killing your vibe in the bouncing club. narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest, you seethed silently at a tipsy girl standing way to close next to your steve. and you hustled into action once a manicured hand gripped steve’s bicep and laughed at nothing.

determined strides towards the bar you were able to hear steve’s response to whatever the girl was asking, “i’ve got a girlfriend, actually. she’s here with me.” that didn’t stop her from undressing him with her smudge eyeliner.

you tapped a finger to steve’s shoulder, he already had the same response spilling from his lips but then ended on a happy, “girlfriend!” when he turned around to see you staring the girl down.

“baby! sorry this is taking awhile.” steve wrapped his left arm behind your waist and pulled you close to his side. your own two circled his stomach and clung to him like a koala.

“it’s fine, stevie. who’s your… friend.” barely acknowledging the stranger who was equally eyeing you down with annoyance.

“amanda.” “don’t really care!” throwing a wide smile at her before pushing to your tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto steve’s cheek, dark red lipstick staining his skin.

steve looked at you with wide eyes before leaning down so he connected your mouths, a bruising kiss that slowly turned french making you dizzy in the hot club. his large hands caressing your hips and sliding up and down, both of you getting too bold for the pda.

you were the first to pull away, steve going in for another kiss before you had to push a finger to his pursed lips. smudges of red covering his mouth and chin. you bet your face wasn’t any better.

“what was that for?” a slight pant to steve’s words.

a slight raise to your brows with a cocky smile, “gotta show the girls that you’re a taken man.” before happily diving back in for a kiss.

“get a fucking room!”

[cheriladycl01]

My girlfriend jousts! Charles Leclerc x SouthKoreanOlympicFencing! Reader

Plot: Charles Leclerc finally dates outside of his friendship circle, nobody in the paddock has met you yet. He invites you to your first race and tries to explain your job to everyone...

Credit to givemegifs for the GIF

You walked next to your boyfriend F1 driver Charles Leclerc. It was your first time in the paddock with him and you were very nervous. You'd never met his team-mate Carlos Sainz, or any of the drivers for the matter.

You reached out to take his hand which he took happily, pulling it up and kissing the top of your hand.

"There's no need to worry! Everyone's going to love you!" he smiles down at you, you rub your thumb over his knuckles as a comforting gesture for yourself.

You both swiped in and he didn't leave your side, no matter how many people came up to talk to him. Weather it was the likes of Will Buxton, wanting to talk to him about the car, or a fan asking for a signature on a Ferrari cap or one of his fellow drivers offering him quick good lucks for the weekend as they rush off to whatever media duties they have.

"Come on, lets go find Carlos! I'll introduce you to Rebecca" he smiles as you both head over to the Ferrari motorhome. You can tell everyone really is like family there, Charles walks you round introducing you to all the mechanics and the social media staff. Literally anyone he can find he goes up to, and he knows their names and is asking them about their families.

"Oh! Yes this is my girlfriend Y/N. She's much cooler than me... she jousts for her job!" he exclaims using the worst way possible to describe what you do.

"Excuse me?" the man laughs, not really understanding what Charles was trying to explain your job as.

"I'm a South Korean Olympic Fencer. I competed in the 2021 Olympics in Tokyo. Charles just finds it funny to tell people i joust like some medieval brute!" you smile at the mechanic who laughs nodding.

"I knew i recognized you from somewhere, just couldn't put my mind too it where I support Italy!" he smiles and you nod at him.

"So what's it like being a fencer?" he asks.

"I enjoy it, there's obviously a certain level of talent too it and dedication but i've also found its rather artistic" you smile while explaining how you've linked your training schedule up to Charles' with Joris so you can get fitter before the next games.

You'd placed silver which had been incredible but like most olympians or people in sort you wanted that gold. You'd noticed major improvements in the way you'd fenced since you'd gone to training with Charles. You basically copied his everyday routine. You ate what he ate and you exercised like he did.

Next up Carlos came jogging over Rebecca as graceful as ever floating behind him greeting everyone that she passed.

"Omg hello! You must be Charles girlfriend. He and Carlos have told me all about you!" Rebecca smiles but you struggle to understand her because of the strong Scottish accent. It took you months to get around the way Charles spoke that you actually found it easier if you both spoke in French, which you'd learned at school. But you eventually both got around that curve-ball.

"Hello. It's nice to meet, both of you. Charles has also told me lots about you!" you admit smiling at her, she pulls you into a hug which you kindly accept and try to not make the first contact awkward.

You all ended up having lunch together in the Ferrari hospitality talking about everything and how you'd be flying back to Korea next week. Carlos said how he was upset that the Korean International Circuit wasn't on the roster anymore and that he'd never driven round it and might never get too.

Charles was very touchy all day, every time he left you to go do something team related he either held onto you while you walked him to wherever he needed to be. You'd wait and he'd rush straight back out pulling you into a hug kissing your neck and burying his head into the crook of it.

"What's wrong Jagiya (Baby)?" you asked looking to him and holding him.

"I just want to go home with you" he sighs, you can tell its not been a good day with the media considering they kept asking about his DNF in last weekends race.

"Mmmmm and we will. But I think you have some more friends to introduce me to" you grinned at him.

He introduced you to Lando and Oscar, who you both enjoyed their vibe. You found it easy to make conversation with Lando and his upbeat energy and Oscar had very funny and comedially timed inputs and ad libs to the conversation but also had a comforting silence you enjoyed.

He also introduced you to Pierre saying how they'd been best friends since they were very young and they'd come all the way through Karting together.

Pierre asked his girlfriend Kika to come over and introduced the two of you. Being similar ages you both got on having similar sense of humors and were into the same things.

You spent the rest of the day walking round the paddock with her, until someone caught you for an interview. It seemed to be Sky News, you'd been privy to Sky News before when they captured you in the Olympics.

"So Y/N it's your first time here! How have you found the energy of the paddock?" he asks.

"Yes, it's been very faced pace I think I've met and spoken to more people today than i have in my 23 years I've been around!" you joke laughing with the presenter.

"And how does it feel, as a Silver Olympic medalist to be around a sport like this?" he asks.

"Yeah, I mean from a very young age I was active and enjoyed different types of sport. My mum really wanted to pursue Taekwando as it's our national sport but I was never an aggressive person. I tried football and then when i was sent to a boarding school I was enlisted for fencing and I just stuck with it!" you answer politely.

"So, as i'm from the UK I would assume that your Premiere League Team is Spurs?" he asks hoping you liked football still to this day.

"Yes, I do. I try watch them at any opportunity i can! Sometimes and don't tell Charlie but I've skipped qually to watch them play" you say biting your lip a little.

The quick interview wraps up and it was safe to say that afterwards Charles Leclerc was now having to share his girlfriend with everyone online who had fallen in love with her personality.

"You look cute here!" Charles says latter that night a still from your interview on the TV where he'd paused it. You were laughing at something the interviewer had said and you hand was over your face covering it while your sharp eyes crinkled from your smile.

"Mmmm today was fun! I'd like to come to this more often!" you smile at him, flopping down onto the bed and playing with the collar of his red team shirt.

"Yeah? You would?" he asks and you nod before pulling him into a hug.

y/user

Liked by charlesleclerc and others

y/user: Amazing weekend at my first race! The Scuderia was very exciting. Thank you for the time @scuderiaferrari

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charlesleclerc I love you ❤️ thank you for coming 🔥

2 hours ago

Taglist:

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A/N: sorry this is my first try at some kind of social media! Im sorry if it’s bad!

[goldsbitch]

That one Christmas flight

summary: Y/N and Lando Norris are seated next to each other on a long flight. Innocent little Christmas tradition that Y/N does every year brings them just a little too close.

warnings: fluff, one-shot (whops a lie!), meet cute

Christmas. Y/N felt like an alien walking among people. It was impossible to avoid it. It was present in songs, in decoration, in fashion, online and on the news. Everywhere.

It's not like she was a grinch or anything. Nor was it because of some tragic incident causing trauma. Just pure fatigue from all the logistics and travel connected, which most kids of divorced parents faced every year.

Flying from Japan back to England, from her mother to her father, was a chore that seemed unavoidable. Her mother was kind enough to splurge on first class ticket for her, which her fancy Tokio job allowed. Ever since fours years ago, she continued a tradition that was introduced to her by a fellow Christmas traveller - the most stylish sassy French woman, who often spend the holidays on a plane. She would get herself and who ever was sitting next to her a glass of champagne and chat them up. Y/N has never laughed so much in her life like she did when she met this woman - so she took the tradition as her own.

Lando's plan wasn't to be on a flight from Japan to London on the 24th of December. He had so little time with his family and friends that this secret work trip to the Honda factory was really pushing him into staying with McLaren for the following years and not switching to a different team. This whole situation was like fuel for his current headache.

Y/N second guessed her tradition when a super gorgeous looking boy, who seemed to want anything but to be bothered, was sat next to her. She was used to having older people sitting next to her. Anyway, tradition is a tradition, so she eventually got up to order the classic. She nearly turned back at the thought that this guy was giving off some serious "I'm a dick" vibes, he had barely acknowledged her since she sat down. Luckily, she ignored this feeling.

When a glass of champagne appeared before Lando, he was sure it was a mistake.

"Well, to Christmas," his neighbor toasted. While he thought that she was a rather good looking girl, he was in no mood for a fangirl.

"I'm very sorry, um...I'll be happy to take a photo with you or something, but I am not in the best mood for a interaction with a fan."

She gave him a baffled look.

He continued. "Look, I'll be more than happy to sign anything. Or a photo, just as long you keep between un on which flight you saw me."

Y/N put her glass down, this was a first one.

"First of all, sorry for invading your private time. I have this stupid tradition of having a glass with whomever I'm destined to spend this Christmas flight. Guess I was mistaken. Second of all, I have no fucking idea who you are. So, calm down." She downed half of her glass. Of course this stupid year would include an asshole like this. Oh well.

Lando was confused for a moment and immediately after that he felt like an idiot.

"Apologies," he slowly replied, somewhat baffled. "I thought you were a fan and I'm just not in the mood for that." Y/N rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her champagne. "I'm Lando, by the way."

"Is that a stage name?"

"No, " he laghed. "I think it was a random decision of my mom."

"Interesting. Y/N," she introduced herself, without looking at him.

There was a weird tension in the air. Lando was determined to break it. Y/N was currently casually offended.

"Let me get you another one so that we can have a toast."

"Great, getting drunk is also an option. Hate flying sober," she joked.

Another glass was brought by a smiling flight attendant.

"So, how does this work?" Lando asked. Y/N was a person easily annoyed, however as quickly this came it also ended.

"Fine. There are rules, btw."

"Of course there are."

"Ehm, ehm, " she cleared her throat. "So, this tradition was started by Madame Tatanova and from now on, if you find yourself on a plane on 24th or 25th of December, you need to toast with your fellow neighbor passenger and answer the following: why and for how long-"

"I will have to write this down, I have a memory of a dead chicken."

"-I'm not finished! And then you follow up by your biggest regret and one thing nobody knows. The purpose of this is to gain or pass on wisdom and use the opportunity you'd normally miss by blasting up your headphones." She's done this for four times now, still the introduction was missing the "Madame Tatanova magic". Maybe one day.

"Ok..." Lando was not following yet, but he was keen on doing so. She raised her glasses, as did he.

"Cheers, to Christmas flights."

"Cheers, " he replied and they both sipped their champagne. "Wait, I have a question - what would you do if I did not speak English? Or if I was deaf?"

Lando was being his cheeky self and Y/N was not having it. She answered the question with a look.

"Got it! Anyway...what was the question?"

"Why."

"Why? Why is the sky dark or....?"

"Why are you on this plane."

"I'm trying to get to London from Tokio."

"I swear to god, I will ask to be seated somewhere else, Orlando."

"Lando, actually."

"If you say so..."

"Huuh, I'm going back from a work trip. And since you claim not to know me, I can probably tell you more than I should. Um, imagine I am in a band, right? I'm singing for a band and every few years they change their lead singer, one of the two actually, and I'm a the lead singer who might go to a different band now. But it's not clear yet and super secret actually. So, please keep it to yourself." Lando felt like someone who has just discovered speech and this was the first time he was using it. "Does that make any sort of sense?"

"Sort of I think. So you're cheating on your band?"

"Uhh, I'd say checking out options."

"Remind me never to date guys like you," she joked and immediately regretted that. Y/N was not good at flirting and did not want to appear creepy.

Lando passed on this comment, still not sure if he could trust this girl. "So, what about you? Why?"

"The curse of the divorced parents. One lives in London, the other one in Japan and I'm a package they pass each year," she said rather bitterly.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. I get to see mom twice a year and it's all always so planned and predictable. I would kill for spontaneity."

"Take me with you next time, I'm sure she'll be surprised." "Yes, she is a big fan of British guys, that's why she divorced one!"

"Great, happy to follow that route!"

Y/N started to relax a bit. This could be good, actually. "Ok, so now. For long are you staying in London, Lando?"

"Only few weeks. Then our music season starts. "

"Yeah, the one with all the singing, of course."

"Yeeah."

Y/N laughed a bit. He was suprisingly easy to talk to.

"So, how long?"

"A week. Then I'm off to Bologna."

"Uuuh, fancy that!"

"Yeah, I'm studying history there."

"Bologna is the one with the old university?" he asked, pretending he has never heard of that.

"No, not really, they just opened. Last year we did not have chairs, because the shipment got delayed," she replied with a dry tone.

"One does always study better while standing. I believe it was Socrates, who said it."

"Oh, yes. They teach you this at the singing music school?"

"Exactly. We were never allowed to sit."

They continued to chat all the way through the airplane dinner, getting few more glasses of champagne during that. Their laughter was interrupted by a flight attendant, who acted on a complaint from a fellow passenger. They both fell asleep watching a movie. Y/N woke up few times in the night and observed the boy next to her. Knowing this was the best Christmas plane encounter she ever had. Lando woke up as well, feeling strangely happy about the fact she was resting her head on his shoulder.

//

"Wait." Lando stopped her at the entrance to customs hall and pulled them both behind a column, so that they could not be seem by bystanders.

"Yes?" she turned to him.

"This might be weird, but can I kiss you?" Y/N looked at the boy in a hoodie standing in front of her, cheeky guy suddenly appearing nervous. He was absolutely gorgeous. She hated the fact he was random guy on a plane to London and not to Bologna.

"Yes. Must be midnight somewhere. So it could be like a New Years thing."

"Yeah. Just an airport thing." With that he kissed her. Just two young people having a little moment of silence. His kiss was a light slow brush on the lips. He cupped her cheek and her hand brushed through his curly hair. First kiss usually does not take long. For a person passing by, this would appear like kiss these two shared a thousand times before.

When they eventually parted, it all seemed a bit surreal.

"We never got to the second part of your Christmas interview," Lando commented.

"Well. Let's say that the one thing nobody knows is that I just kissed a random guy from the plane. And that my biggest regret is that we will never see each other again." For the first time, she was this bluntly honest with somebody who had just kissed her for the first time. It felt intoxicating.

Lando smiled. "See, I knew we had something in common."

Lando was usually not so open with his crushes, if he could even put her in that category.

"Don't worry. I won't search for you online or anything. I want to keep the mystery of Lando alive."

He kissed her once more, before they parted.

//

Their hearts felt a little more heavier than usual on midnight that New Years Eve. Both standing surrounded by their favorite people, yet with the one they would wish to kiss being impossibly far away.

part 2

_________________________

@superlegend216

[corroded-hellfire]

From one ginger to the other I absolutely adore the as you wish series! <3

I was wondering if you could do something where the reader goes out with Nancy for brunch for the first time after having Eliza. And her alcohol tolerance is obviously lower than pre-Eliza. And she gets quite tipsy, and Eddie has to pick her up, and she's all over him and just spewing nonsense about how much she loves him and their family.

And she admits how much she loved having his baby, and Eddie is just totally smitten as she just keeps going on and on.

Anything for a fellow ginger! This is silly and cute and I hope you like it 🥰

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, sexy talk

[As You Wish masterlist]

The sun brings warmth to the breezy spring day as you finish up your brunch with Nancy. It’s the first time the two of you have gotten to do this since you gave birth to Eliza. You had been aware that things would change drastically after giving birth, but you hadn’t even realized how long it had been since you and Nancy had a girl’s day until she invited you a few days ago. 

Mimosas seemed like a perfect way to celebrate when you arrived, but by the time you had finished your second glass along with your French toast, it was too late to remember that your tolerance was lower now. 

“Same thing happened after I had Danny,” Nancy tells you as you take a long sip from your water glass. “Steve and I went to a work party, and we had to leave after I had one vodka cranberry.”

“I don’t feel drunk,” you tell your friend, the lightness in your head giving you a pleasant buzz of happiness on top of the already enjoyable day. “Just tipsy. But I know I can’t drive like this. I’ll go call Eddie.”

“Are you sure?” Nancy offers. “I can just drive you home.”

You shake your head as you carefully push yourself up from the cushioned chair. 

“No, it’s okay. Wayne’s over so he can stay with the kids.” 

It is the truth, but the main reason you want Eddie to pick you up is because you really want to see your husband right now. Like a pregnancy craving for food turned into a yearning for a person, you feel as if your hands are not on Eddie within the next few minutes, you’re going to lose your mind. It’s all you can think about as you put one foot in front of the other as you walk inside the restaurant from your porch table.

The hostess shows you to a phone and your fingers eagerly skip over the familiar numbers for your home.

“Hello?”

Just the sound of his voice sends a chill throughout your body—one the warm spring day outside could never eradicate. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you say. Even you can hear the smile in your voice.

“What, baby? Are you okay?” The concern in Eddie’s voice does nothing to help the burning deep within you.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you tell him. “I had a, uh, couple of mimosas with lunch and I did not realize my alcohol tolerance would be this low after having Eliza since I haven’t drank in a while.”

There’s an exhale of relief on the other end of the phone. Eliza babbling in the background and Luke’s raucous laughter has you grinning into the mouthpiece you’re clutching on to. 

“I’ll be right there, okay?” Eddie assures you. “We’ll get your car later.”

“Okay!”

Eddie chuckles at your carefree attitude and can only imagine how cute you look right now, all smiley and bubbly. 

“I’ll see you soon, princess.”

“Okay! Bye.”

When you get back to the table, amongst the empty plates and discarded silverware, you see that Nancy has already paid the whole bill and you give her a soft glare.

“What?” she asks innocently, large eyes making it even more convincing. “I’m pretty sure you paid last time.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble as she stands up and grabs her purse. “I’m sure you remember that from, like, a year ago.”

No response from Nancy on that, she just gives you a wink and loops her arm through yours. The two of you walk arm-in-arm out to the parking lot in front of the restaurant. 

Nancy’s car is parked in the shade so there’s a coolness on your backside as you rest against the trunk of the silver Lexus. Your friend tugs a little on the cream-colored sweater she’s wearing but you wish you had Eddie’s arms around you to keep you warm. Thoughts of Eddie’s arms lead to thoughts of his hands all over you and you’re unable to keep a dreamy little hum from slipping out.

“Thinking about Eddie?” Nancy asks, though the amusement on her face says she already knows the answer.

“I’m always thinking about Eddie,” you admit with a shrug. 

“God, you two are adorable,” Nancy says, mostly to herself. 

A squeal of excitement and you hopping off the car in excitement lets the brunette next to you know that Eddie’s truck has pulled into the parking lot. It’s her clue even before the metal music can be heard soaring out of the open windows. 

Eddie leaves one hand on the steering wheel and uses the other to turn the volume dial down as he slows the truck down right behind Nancy’s car. He lifts an eyebrow and looks you up and down appreciatively. 

“Need a ride, gorgeous?” he asks.

The giggle that tumbles out of your lips has both your best friend and your husband smiling as he puts the truck in park and steps out of the car. As soon as he walks back around the bed, you throw yourself at Eddie, who catches you and lets out a surprised huff of laughter.

“Hello to you, too,” he says. Protective as always, he wraps a sturdy arm around your waist to make sure you’re steady before he looks over at Nancy. “She wasn’t any trouble, was she?”

“Nope,” Nancy says. “Ate her vegetables and went to bed on time.”

“Hey!” You pout, looking back and forth between the two of them. “I’m the babysitter, not the baby. I mean…I was the babysitter. Now I’m the Mommy.”

Your two compatriots share an amused smile before Nancy gives you a wave and gets in her car. Eddie leads you over to the passenger’s side of the truck. You have no intention of letting him go though, so you wrap your arms around his neck so he’s leaning over you in the seat.

“Uh, babe?” he says with a chuckle before realizing it’s better to just humor you. 

Rapid fire kisses get smacked all over your face which has you squirming on the spot and gets you to loosen your grip on your husband’s neck. But the moment Eddie climbs in the driver’s seat and closes the door, you lean over the center console to grab at him again. 

“Sweetheart,” he says with a laugh, amused at your touchiness, “I have to drive us home.”

Silently, you decide that’s okay because that’s where your babies are, so you let go and slip back into your own seat. The older man puts the truck into gear as you buckle your seatbelt and then he pulls out of the parking lot, onto the main road.

It’s quiet only for a matter of seconds before you speak again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We have the cutest family ever.”

Eddie nods his head in agreement, trying to keep his laughter inside lest you think he’s laughing at you.

“Absolutely,” he agrees.

“And it’s because you’re so cute!” you gush, throwing your hands in the air with a dramatic flourish that Luke would be proud of. “What do Ryan, Luke, and Eliza all have in common? Your genes! That’s why they’re so stinkin’ adorable.” You sigh dreamily and rest your head against the headrest as you gaze at your husband. “You’re such a DILF.”

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of laughter at that and looks your way as you pull up to a red light. Glee dances in his eyes as he tilts his head. 

“Isn’t that ‘Dad I’d like to fuck?’” he asks. “You have fucked me, baby. Many, many times.”

“Fine. You’re a DIHF.” The different pronunciation has a raspberry blowing out of your mouth at the end of the word. “‘Dad I have fucked.’”

This is the most entertained I have been in so long, Eddie thinks to himself as the light turns green. It only reinforces the insane amount of love he has for you, and he feels the need to reach over and hold your hand. Luckily, yours is resting on your thigh now so he does just that. Softly, his thumb begins to stroke the back of your hand. 

“M’so happy, Eddie.”

“Good,” he says, “I’m glad you had a good time with Nancy. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to go out.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, yes, I am happy because I got to spend time with Nancy today but that’s not what I was talking about. I meant that I’m so happy cause I got you and the boys and little Liza. Best things that ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same way, princess.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I really, really loved having your baby.”

Eddie can’t help the big grin that stretches across his face at your words. God, he could never hear that enough from you. 

“I had something that was half you and half me growing inside me,” you explain as if Eddie doesn’t know what being pregnant entails. “It felt crazy. But like, a good way. Like, I couldn’t believe it was happening. A little piece of you right here.” Your free hand pats your lower abdomen and when Eddie glances over he sees you looking down at that part of your body.

“I wanna do it again.”

Eddie almost swerves off the road at those words.

“Huh?” he asks, hand tightening on yours.

“I wanna have your baby again! I mean, not right now. Fucking hell, my vagina would fall out having babies so close together like that. Ow.”

“Jesus Christ, I love you,” Eddie raves. “But yeah, we don’t want your vagina falling out. Pretty sure we both really, really like that part of you.”

A sly smile grows on your lips as Eddie turns the truck into your neighborhood. You know it’s a little mean to turn your husband on when you’re about to go home to a house full of kids and his uncle, but you just can’t help it. You’re having fun and it’s alcohol-induced and Eddie’s done way worse things while under the influence. 

“Well,” you start innocently, “maybe if my vagina hurt you could kiss it better?”

“Fuck,” Eddie growls, glancing over at you. “Really gonna do this now?”

The maniacal giggle you let out already has Eddie forgiving you, his heart soaring with how much love he feels. He’d let you tease him and taunt him until the end of time. And God knows you’re the only one allowed to. But that makes it even better, Eddie thinks, because then he gets a pass to act as an over-protective asshole once in a while when the jealousy monster rears its ugly head. It’s a fair trade you can both live with. And if Eddie’s cross to bear is you getting him all worked up when there’s no time to do anything about it, he thinks he’s pretty damn lucky. 

[moviestarmartini]

ella es mi fiesta — jude bellingham x hispanic!reader

es la favorita, la mujer más buena / la que más me gusta de todas las nenas / es la mamacita, se me agua la boca / que no más las miro y todo me provoca.

summary: jude has completed his move to madrid, and while you watch him shine, you've got a wedding to plan.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: wedding!! tried not to specify much so it adapts to everything (methinks), good mother/daughter relationship lol, short nsfw but still 18+, brief female masturbation, unprotected sex (not endorsing it!!!), lots and lots of sappy crying, smau at both the beginning and the end, sentences in spanish, a paragraph in spanish will be translated at the end hehe

previous part

A bigger, brighter spotlight started to shine on your fiancé. 

You knew Jude deserved that and more, and you were more than satisfied with his success. If college wasn’t occupying your nights, you saw him at the Bernabeu whenever you could, preferring to sit outside than inside the VIP boxes to feel la afición you grew up with. Feel that passion and support surrounding you, coursing through your veins. 

Nothing had really changed; you still supported him through thick and thin. You cried when he scored a brace against Barcelona, and held him close after the endless recovery hours when he was injured. The fact he was physically closer only improved your relationship further. 

You never knew how much you needed to have him close by. 

But being at Real Madrid had its disadvantages. You barely got to hang out around campus to avoid people asking too many questions, wanting to know more about your relationship with the golden boy. But most of this chatter wasn't even questions about you or him, they were directed towards your relationship. 

The same comments you’d read on Twitter and his Instagram Posts— not yours, considering you decided to keep your account private for the time being. Things ranging from your age, the time you’ve been dating before the proposal to downright wishing you wouldn’t even make it to the wedding and just cancel the engagement. 

You’d discussed these comments with Jude, and his reassurance was more than enough to keep you at peace about your relationship. But the criticism only made your body burn with the necessity to prove everyone wrong. So you kept your head down, concentrating on your studies and planning the wedding on the side. You had bimonthly reports to Jude about the progress of everything, though Denise had been a godsend this whole time. Any decision you needed an opinion on, she was there to provide the most helpful insight when Jude wasn’t able.  

As he settled into the team, the teammates he grew closer to got to meet you, all of them absolutely adoring you and the pair you made with the englishman. 

“When are we getting our wedding party ask? Cama here wants to be the flower man.” Tchouameni joked, elbowing his fellow french national on the ribs as the group exploded with laughter. 

During one of the international breaks Jude surprised you with his return by joining you during a cake tasting. He wasn’t fully recovered from the injury and was sent back, having taken a few hours off to be with his ‘best girl’— he said himself. 

“Shoo, or I’m going to report to the mister that you’re playing hooky.” You stuck your tongue out while dropping him off at Ciudad Real Madrid for his recovery training. The truth was, you had a dress fitting that afternoon. Your mom, Denise, your cousin and your best friend were in attendance. 

You’d find your dream dress at a boutique in the city center, the streets crowded enough for people to recognize you and snap a few blurry pictures entering the shop. None of those wearing the dress, thank goodness, but by the time you found out people started to realize you and Jude were actually getting married that year, you were too elated to care. The dress fit like a glove, and your mom couldn’t help but sob by seeing you in it. She bought it on the spot without much consideration, and considering you were the only girl in your nuclear home, your mother was going all out for her little girl’s wedding. 

As the temperatures dropped, the planning became more frantic. You had fifty calls to make every single day confirming everything, keeping Jude updated and checking one last time for the RSVPs. As November edged in, you only felt more and more nervous. 

“Are we too insane for this? We should’ve waited for two years from now maybe…” You wondered out loud to Jude as you finished the engagement photoshoot. Brunch was your thing, so it was a playful twist on the theme. 

“Look at me,” He incited, taking your face in his hand. His eyes were full of reassurance, and it always surprised you to see how he never doubted anything for a second. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me. If you want to delay it for fifteen years I’ll wait patiently.” The photographer was already packing up his things, but perked up when he noticed the intimate moment going on. He didn’t interrupt, just taking a few candids. 

His understanding just melted away any doubts instead of reinforcing them. You scooted closer in your chair. “I’m not moving anything. The wedding’s in a month, and I couldn’t be happier.” You cooed, your fiancé humming happily as he kissed your forehead. 

When you received the pictures you came to notice those candids turned out to be your favorites. Not that the others looked bad— on the contrary, you both looked stunning— but they transported you back into that moment full of reassurance and love. 

Before you knew it, the last game of the season transpired, along with your last class before exam season took place in January after your Winter vacations. 

After your wedding. 

For your bachelor and bachelorette parties respectively the two of you decided to celebrate during the day so that night the rehearsal dinner could take place at the same cozy chateau the wedding was taking place the next day. It was more of a mixer than anything else, considering Jude had guests come from all over to the event. All of them you knew, since you both agreed to keep it tight knit on both sides. There had also been a sworn secrecy, you’ve giggled for hours reading Twitter threads speculating when your wedding was taking place when it was literally happening right under their noses. 

It had been an hour or so since the last of the guests either drove home or crossed over to stay at the boutique hotel nearby. Both of your families were sleeping in the other rooms in the venue, but the matrimonial bedroom was left for your solitude. 

“Can’t sleep either, eh?” You turned to Jude’s husky voice from the bedroom door. You got up with a nod, watching as he closed the door behind you. “Anxious?” 

“Definitely.” You agreed, pulling him down and into a hug. “Young bride was not something I ever pictured in my resume but that was before I met you.” You muttered, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. 

Jude observed your movements slowly, feeling the cold white gold against his cheek. He turned his face and kissed your palm before taking it in his hand, kissing your fingers, never breaking eye contact. He inched in, nose brushing against you and you knew well enough his intentions. 

“In twenty-four hours we’ll consummate the marriage, Belli-bear; don’t.” You warned him with a playful smile, noticing how he leaned down and kissed your neck slowly. You couldn’t resist, tilting your head back. With all the planning involved, you barely got to see anything of each other, even less intimately. 

“I don’t care.” He grumbled, sliding his hands on your thighs as you stumbled over to the edge of the bed. He sat first, drawing you over to his lap. “I’ve barely seen you in the last two months.” Jude linked your lips together, and you melted right into his lap. It was slow, taking your time. He pulled down the straps of the soft cotton pajamas, letting the top roll down and pool at your waist. 

Your bare chest heaved against his clothed one, and he removed the shirt before his hands cupped your breasts. The tension building up in the room was something you’ve never experienced before; it was mind numbing, almost. 

“I love you.” You muttered something you’ve said so many times previously, but it felt like the first time. You noticed how he swallowed hard, his eyes looking up at you with utter admiration. Instead of replying right away, his hand sneaked under the matching shorts, past your underwear. Your breath hitched, his middle fingers drawing circles slowly. 

“Yo también te amo.” He replied, licking his lips. You slightly raised your brows in surprise; it was usually the other way around. You said it in Spanish and he replied in English. Now his tongue spoke your language with ease each day. Your mouth twitched lightly into a smile, interrupted by a moan as he gathered the slick pooling around his fingers. 

“Let me take you, please.” His begging was sincere, knowing you could easily decline and follow traditions. Not that you hadn’t done it before, but maybe right before your wedding was pushing it. “I’m too eager… I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow. 

You have been feeling his boner pressing against your thigh for a while now, yet again adding to his honesty. Your thoughts were racing a hundred miles per hour, but you concluded there was nothing traditional about this in the first place. The two of you were bending the rules over backwards from the day you met. A smile still rose to your lips, pulling him into a kiss and pushing him onto the bed. 

“Take me now. Tomorrow you’ll do it forever.” You brushed your nose against his, and he switched places to lay on top of you. Without wasting any time he pulled your pajama shorts and underwear down, his own following soon after. 

“Uh, fuck— I forgot,” He looked around the room, trying to figure out if you’d brought any condoms. You pulled his face towards yours, cupping his jaw in your fingers. 

“I’ll take a pill tomorrow.” You noticed how his eyes shone in a way you’d never noticed before, and he caught your lips in his once more, brushing his tip against your entrance. You mewled, feeling the stretch and embracing it warmly. Your fiancé held you against his chest, kissing the top of your head. 

“You feel so warm,” He practically whined, starting to draw out long thrusts. You could barely reply to the praise, trying to keep your moans muffled by hiding your face in his neck. “So perfect for me, my girl.” 

He knew those strained moans like the back of his hand, the kind where you seemed to be choking on air. The way your cunt squeezed him was enough indication. “Yes, baby. Do it, cum for me.” You exhaled in a way it was apparent the permission lifted a weight off your shoulders. He held you closer to his body, allowing your moans to leave your mouth more freely without escaping those four walls. 

The stutter of his hips that came soon after, followed by a string of curses gave away that Jude was close too. You kissed his strong shoulders, giving him words of encouragement as he perched your legs over his shoulders and started a painful pace to find his release. Still, he looked down at you with a fondness that made your heart melt, leaning down for a final kiss as he pulled out and shot ropes of white to cover your lower tummy. 

“How about a warm bath?” He proposed tenderly, and you couldn’t have said no, even if you wanted to. Without even noticing you fell asleep curled up in his chest, the light steam surrounding your bodies. 

You woke up the next day to the empty bed, haven’t felt so well rested in a while. There was some chatter going on downstairs, and you peaked from the bedroom window to notice staff being led by your mother and soon to be mother-in-law assembling the ceremony venue in the vast backyard. The reality soon dawned upon you, and you wanted to throw up from the nerves and scream in glee. 

But that was the last time you were left alone with your thoughts, as a soft knock rang through the room. “Coming! Denme dos minutos!” You sprung up from the bed, quickly fixing the bed and slipping into the silk slip dress you bought for the whole ‘getting ready’ part of it. The house had a great heating system from the dropping temperatures, but you still got a matching bolero in cashmere. Upon opening the door you were greeted by your small wedding party, consisting of your cousin and best friend. Your other female family members were getting ready with you with the same team of hair and makeup. 

The greeting hugs everyone gave you were so different. They were full of warmth, positivity. You had to hold back tears when your mom hugged you, easing up all your nerves. It was as if they were confirming to you that they were there for you, sending all the well wishes for the years to come with a simple embrace. 

You had your favorite breakfast with mimosas before getting ready. Music was blasting, everyone was chatting it up and helping each other. It felt as though you were getting ready for a regular party, until your brother came knocking at the door. “Delivery for the bride.” He smiled, and the room full of women squealed. You were done with your hair already but you were going to be the last to get your makeup done. 

With a smile you kissed your brother on the cheek before ushering him out the door, taking a hold of the large box and placing it on the bed. Upon removing the lid, you gasped at the delicately placed bouquet, the one you were going to be walking down the aisle with. 

“You like it? I helped him choose. He assembled it himself last night after everyone was gone.” Denise came up to you with a warm smile, and you couldn’t help but give her a tearful nod, setting the flowers aside to give her a tight hug. You figured this whole thing was a big change for her, considering how much of a mama’s boy Jude was. 

But that embrace felt just like the others; full of support and well wishes. 

In no time your makeup started and the women got dressed, only leaving your mum to help you with the dress and the veil. “Ay mi princesa.” She exhaled, fanning her eyes as you took a step back to look at yourself in front of the mirror. You took a deep breath in, having to hold back the need to start crying. Your dream wedding dress fit you as perfectly as it did on the first fitting, and the lacy veil was as perfect as it was on your mother all those years back. 

“I think we should head downstairs. Get some pictures of our family together. Jude should be waiting outside already, so there would be no peeking.” She laughed, carefully cleaning away the tears right at the edge of her eyes. 

The following reactions were similar. Your father looked as though he was about to pass out, and your brother was left speechless. But you only cared about one reaction, and you stood perfect for the family pictures as you could only imagine how Jude would react. 

Still the anticipation couldn’t have prepared you to see him shedding real tears as you walked down the garden, unable to stop looking at you. And for a second there, you swore it was just you and him in the entire planet. 

You couldn’t stop looking at each other throughout the whole thing, no matter if you were supposed to look at the officiant. You said your vows first, eyes brimming with tears. “Most importantly, I love how you make me think I’m the brightest star in the world, no matter how bad either of us are feeling. And I promise I’ll drive you everywhere for the rest of our lives, don’t get that license, amor.” You finished with a bitter sweet chuckle. But you couldn’t have expected what Jude had to say next. 

“Uh, I’ve been practicing my vows for the past six months. If there’s any mistakes, just… keep it to yourselves.” The audience chuckled lightly, but they were as intrigued as you were. He started out by saying your name, almost breathless, “Siempre te he dicho que eres la razón por la que creo en el amor a primera vista.” You choked out a sob, as people in the audience gasped. 

Jude had written and learned his vows in Spanish. Without telling a soul. 

He apparently grew more confident, sucking a big breath in. “Y hoy, puedo decir con toda certeza que creo en el amor sincero y eterno. Todo por ti, preciosa,” His bottom lip quivered, noticing how you were made a mess, eyes full of tears. 

“Eres la estrella que alumbra mis días. Mi chauffeur que me lleva a todos los lugares sin que se lo pida.” He cleared his throat, inhaling the tears in. “Gracias por confiar en mí y en nuestro amor para llegar aquí hoy. Te amo.” 

You smiled at him warmly, and knew he would tease you later for having matching vows without knowing. The rest of the ceremony flew by, and Jude really took the ‘you may kiss the bride’ part too seriously. 

“I can’t believe you copied me…” He huffed as you made way inside the mansion, waiting in a separate room for your entrance. “…Mrs. Bellingham.” He practically giggled, and you laughed from the mirror as you were retouching your makeup.

“You’re the one that copied me! I said my vows first, idiot!” You joked, finishing the lip combo before getting to his side, holding his hand to do your entrance to the dining hall. The nerves filled you up and he noticed from the way you shifted your weight from one side to another. 

He kissed your hand and winked, and you knew everything was going to be alright. 

You found out that night most of your guests were hefty drinkers, or at least they had decided to be so for that particular occasion. But you also found out later that night that thank God you ‘consummated your marriage’ the previous night, considering you had to ask for a few of his fellow athlete friends to carry him up to the newlywed couple’s bedroom. You later laid there staring at the ceiling, stomach churning from… anticipation? The drinks? 

But even as Jude was snoring right next to you, you knew deep down everything was going to be alright. 

For the rest of your lives together.

judebellingham mr. and mrs. b 🤍

tagged: yourusername

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A/N: my bf still says we can't get married so enjoyyy this delusion i'm using to cope KFDSKLSDFKLV lowk did my dream wedding here but it wasn't at the same time. hope everyone enjoyed this sappy sappy short series !! the translation to jude’s wedding vows are in that lil note in the smau !!!

[httpsuniverse]

mr lover [ ben chilwell ]

— right where you left lover girl sequel, this takes place two years later!

[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — ben chilwell x singer!reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *

[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — romance, mentions pregnancy, google translated french . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *

࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ clearing my drafts again 😵‍💫 if you ask me, i’m obsessed with singer!reader fics lol

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

benchilwell

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benchilwell family time

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yourusername

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benchilwell

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benchilwell home is where the heart is.

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yourprivate

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yourusername and benchilwell

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yourusername we’re getting him a human in a few months 🙈

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— ❤️ by yourusername

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benchilwell

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benchilwell eleanor chilwell is here 🩷👨🏻‍🍼 you did good mama, i’m proud and grateful to you, yourusername. i love you both

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yourusername thank you dada, we love you too 🩷

yourusername

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yourusername the happiest i’ve ever been 🩷 merci pour tout mon benji. je t'aime toi et eleanor de tout mon coeur. (thank you for everything, my benji. i love you and eleanor with all my heart)

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benchilwell 🩷🩷

user several chapters missed but i’m glad to see you so happy y/n 🥹

user i was surprised when they announced she was pregnant, bit i was more surprised to know that they’re married now 😭

user the hand placements of ben 😭

user i’m so alone yall

user AAA y/n 🥺

user literally went from being dog parents to real parents 🥺🩷

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────────────

yourusername and benchilwell

2,836,729 likes

yourusername darling, don’t you ever grow up... just stay this little. happy birthday my sweet eleanor🩷 mama (with the help of dada) wrote a song for you baby, me and dada loves you sooo much. never grow up out now ✨

view all 238,861 comments

benchilwell growing up too fast, my ellie bear 🥲

user ellie bear... 😭 bens such a girl dad

user stopp im emo im not even a parent

user omg eleanor looks so cute!!

user milks expensive, im too young to be a mum

user my daily mantra every time i see ben or y/n post eleanor

user they have a little ballerina 🥺

user 4 years old already? 😭 time really flew by omg

yourusername i know right 🥺

user y/n and her happy ending 🥺 CURRENTLY TAKING A BATH WITH MY TOASTER RN

[comyet]

Completely forgot that I indeed speak french!! I'll work on a list translation for my fellow french speakers as soon as I can. In the meantime if you've translated the list in any other language, feel free to reblog the original post or lmk via ask! Thank you to those who take the time to make the challenge more available <3

[bippot]

Hi! I love your writing. Do you have any ideas for an enemies to lovers w Spencer?

Ask and you shall recieve. Happy new year!!!

Summary: Spencer's mouth moves faster than his brain whenever he's around the Film Studies professor. She's smart. She's cool. And he's made a fool of himself in front of her.

So, to save him from heartbreak, he's decided he doesn't like her. It's a lie, and not a very good one.

Additional Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Language of Flowers, Professor Spencer Reid, professor reader

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Summary: Spencer's mouth moves faster than his brain whenever he's around the Film Studies professor. She's smart. She's cool. And he's made a fool of himself in front of her.

So, to save him from heartbreak, he's decided he doesn't like her. It's a lie, and not a very good one.

For all of his life, Spencer thought he was an easy person to get along with. He had friends who were happy to have him around despite the fact that he often lectured them about everything and anything. Diana had raised him to be polite and well behaved, so he never failed to answer anyones questions with an appropriate response without hesitation. He wasn't vulgar. Didn't swear. Never stolen anything in his entire life. He did not drink or smoke, and drugs were a touchy subject these days.

Then, he met Y/N. She was a fellow professor at Marbury University and was renowned across campus - if she wasn't teaching, she could be found either helping the drama club film videos or doing follow up tutorials and study sessions for whatever students needed it - and was loved for it.

And she was pretty. Like, really pretty. Whether it was her skill at lecturing or her face, Dr L/N held the unofficial record for the most audited class. Dr Reid was second place - and for once he didn't mind getting a silver medal - and it would take him a while to close the gap between their class sizes. He'd heard about her in the staff room. All good things. A real glowing report card. Everyone loved her and for good reason, apparently. Their paths were yet to cross.

That was until he realised her lecture was directly before his every Monday at 9 and decided to be early - a full two hours early - to check out if she was as good as everyone said she was. And there she was in all her glory, the Dr L/N he'd heard so much about sat back on her desk and waved everyone as they walked in, the occasional student getting a 'Like your new haircut, Bethany!', 'Ready for class, Joe?' or even 'Did you get the email I sent you about the Paramount internship you asked me about, Darla?'

Okay, she was kind too. Kind and pretty. Kind and pretty and obviously smart enough to get a doctorate. Admittedly, she did have a doctorate in Film Studies, and Spencer wasn't entirely sold on the idea that Film as a subject was something worth getting a doctorate in. He liked movies.

A particular favourite of his was 80's Soviet parallel cinema - well, he was a fan of most forms samizdat (rebellious ideals and ideologies presented through art in an attempt to be an act of defiance in the face of the Soviet Union) - because there was so much so much poignant commentary and emotional depth that it was impossible not to love.

But why would you devote your life to silly little movies rather than maths and science and the study of thought - like Psychology or Philosophy - that can literally help save lives? How was knowing about the French New Wave ever going to be useful in real life? In pub quizzes, yeah, but where else?

"Hello, hello, hello everybody!" She greeted cheerfully and stood up, waving her arms around for emphasis. "Welcome my lovelies to our first meeting of the semester."

The black skirt she was wearing was long and frilly and had a pattern that mostly consisted of crescent moons and, most important to Reid, swished whenever she took a step. For the first couple of minutes, he didn't hear a thing she was saying because the swishing was far too mesmerising. It wasn't like him to avoid learning and put all his focus on the aesthetics of a person rather than what they were teaching him. Yet, he was doing just that.

Y/N didn't look like a stereotypical lecturer. Her outfit was far from professional attire. The aforementioned skirt was paired with a graphic tee with Indianna Jones and the word 'DILF' across the chest - and even though he had no idea what DILF means, Spencer knew it was something risque by how one of her students covered their giggle with their hand as soon as they saw it - and worn out bright red cowboy boots. She had smudged eyeliner that looked messy enough that she may have slept in it. Her hair was fluffy and untamed, but in that way that is obviously styled to look like that.

Weirdly, even though he was conforming to the standard he'd seen among his fellow lecturers, right then in the room with her, he felt like he was the odd one out.

"I know when I was going through school, all my professors kept assigning movies that college kids don't really want to watch," she began, leaning against the podium casually, her hands resting on her hips like she owned the place and he was nothing but an honoured guest. "One of my professors - his name was Mr Lockley - he assigned my class the film 'The Cure for Insomnia'. Has anyone heard of it?"

Silence. Once Spencer realised that her students didn't know, he was raising his hand.

"Yes, Dr Reid?"

Oh, she noticed he'd snuck it. And she knew his name. Cool. They did work together so it wasn't that outlandish.

"The Cure for Insomnia is the longest film ever made. It's 5,220 minutes long - that's 87 hours, or 3 days and 15 hours - and has no plot. Instead, the filmmaker read his 4,080-page poem," Spencer answered, looking around the hall, waiting for someone to tell him to shut up. He was also aware that he probably sounded like a total nerd, but he couldn't help himself.

No one did tell him to shut up. That was the main thing he loved about lecturing, he got to ramble and was paid for it. His students got to learn extra details and it's not as if they were going to tell him to be quiet like his friends at the BAU did.

She smiled sweetly, confirmed, "That is correct, Dr Reid," then returned her focus to the class. It made sense. Why would she pay attention to him when she had a job to do? It made a little pang in his chest appear but he ignored it because that was beyond unprofessional.

What could he do? Stand on the desk and demand that they have a conversation that ends with her saying, 'Wow, Dr Reid, you're so smart. Would you like to get coffee some more so you can continue to impress me with the sheer amount of knowledge you have stored inside that adorable head of yours?'

Her explanation continued. "John Henry Timmis IV, whose name sounds fancy but this guy was an unsung rock god who created music that he called 'heavy glitter' or 'destructo-rock', and for his movie, apparently he got his poet buddy, Lee Groban, to recite his very long poem then spliced that together with porn clips and heavy metal," Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she said the last sentence.

Instantly, a mumble went across the class, primarily because a teacher mentioned x-rated material, but she shushed them quickly by clapping her hands together. It was a casual movement, but one that got everyone looking at her once again.

"Can anyone hazard a guess what's weird about this movie, other than the run time?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a hand go up but she wasn't going to call on them, and so, Spencer was left with his palm facing towards the stage. Y/N amended her question, "Can any of my students take a guess? Dr Reid, I'd appreciate it if you'd give my class at least 2 minutes so they can Google the answer."

Once again, silence met her question until it was broken by a shy voice. A girl in the front row with curly blonde hair was looking at her expectantly. Y/N smiled encouragingly and nodded for her to speak up louder. "The film was lost?" The girl said hesitantly.

"Like always, Jennifer, you are correct!" Y/N exclaimed happily. Jennifer blushed, embarrassed by the attention and compliment but smiling nonetheless as Y/N moved on to another question. "The film was lost. The film was shown at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago Illinois, and it ran from January 31st to February 3rd. So when Mr Lockley set his essential viewing, he knew exactly who'd tried to do their homework based on their reaction when he asked what they thought of the film."

The lecture went on for another twenty minutes and for the entire time, Spencer was completely transfixed by Y/N. She spoke passionately and lit up as she explained things to her audience, and sometimes, when a particularly insightful answer came her way, Spencer was sure he could see the stars in her eyes. Her enthusiasm was infectious, it almost radiated off of her and filled up the classroom in an instant.

He couldn't help himself, Spencer found his eyes wandering over every part of her body, studying every inch of her before he'd had the chance to properly comprehend that he was being a creep. Appreciating beauty was one thing, leering at women he hadn't met before is another.

As her student piled out of the lecture hall, all chatting loudly as they walked out, Spencer waited. A group of girls surrounded Y/N and asked her a bunch of questions, and she answered them all like she was their cool older sister rather than someone who was paid to teach them things. Then they left too, and the pair were alone.

"Did you enjoy the class, Dr Reid?" she asked kindly, a smile tugging at her lips as she turned around slightly. She sat on top of the nearest desk and folded her legs under her, resting her elbow on her knee and her head on her fist.

"I've always thought of film studies as a throwaway field of study - if I were to study it, it would be more of a recreational degree than my other ones. But yes, you were very entertaining."

Shit. Her face fell. And he instantly regretted having said that. He hadn't meant to offend her. But he clearly did.

"You're a professor of...?"

"Psychology."

A second passed in which Y/N processed that. She blinked, looked at the floor and started fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

"But I probably should've picked Mathematics, Chemistry or Engineering because that's what I have my PhD's in. I only have a Bachelors in psychology - along with my other Bachelors sociology and my most recent in philosophy - but I have a lot of field work in the general area of psychology (or more specifically, Criminology) so I didn't feel as if I was under qualified for the position," he rambled, knowing his words were coming out of his mouth incredibly fast, like he had just poured everything out at once, but he was unable to stop himself.

Spencer wanted to apologise for offending her but that was the one thing his mouth wouldn't let spill.

"Did you feel qualified for your position?" he inquired, intending it to be a genuine question but when he heard it out loud, oh no, it sounded far too much like he was questioning the legitimacy of her employment.

Her eyebrows raised for the briefest moment as she stared at him, searching for the reason behind his words and not finding one. Then, once she made her judgement, she stood up, brushed off her lap and gathered her bag. "I have to go," she said abruptly, "Good luck with your lecture: I can hear your class arriving. I hope you find it more worthwhile than mine."

With that, she left without sparing him another glance. The door closed with a thud and Spencer took a minute or two to stare blankly after her, the feeling of disappointment washing over him as he watched her leave. Well, he'd fucked that up.

They'd occasionally see each other in passing. If Spencer ever did sit in on her lectures (which he did quite a bit), he didn't engage. Any time he happened to see her at a staff event and she would be kind and laugh along with their peers, but would become quiet whenever he was pulled into the conversation. So, after a while, he stopped trying to interact with her. Why would he? She was judging him based on one interaction - yeah, he'd called her life's work worthless during it - but that was just a slip up. If she stopped being so childish and let him speak to her, they could be friends.

Months and months went on. What was hope turned into hate. Did Y/N really think her job was more important than his? He literally used his knowledge to catch serial killers! What did she do? Write lengthy books about the Marxist interpretation of the Shrek franchise. Or the feminist allegory of Jennifer's Body. Or whatever about some niche movie that nobody's heard from and probably never cared about. Could she save someone's life with that?

Once upon a time, he'd planned to apologise. Now? Fuck that. Would she apologise to him about being so dismissive to him? Probably not. It was better that way. He lived a hectic life and if they were ever friends - or something more than that - she'd be indirectly dragged into a part of that. Besides, he didn't need any more friends anyway. It wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth it.

Sure, it didn't help that he did the occasional thing here and there to annoy her.

If she was in her office with students (which conveniently to the right of his), he'd play his jazz records a smidge too loud.

Any time she'd offer to show one of the investors or a prospecting customer around the humanities buildings, he'd pop up and listen just in case she got a fact wrong so he could correct her right in front of her guests.

And there was this one time he'd heard her promote some of the safer movie pirating websites to her students. She'd said that there was no conceivable way that a student was going to be able to pay to watch all of the movies she'd put on the essential viewing because they were scattered across all of the streaming sites. Spencer agreed with that logic. He still wrote the Dean an email about it though. It is illegal.

When the new academic year commenced, their disagreement with one another turned into a feud. It was over something so simple and easy to sort out that it was as if they were acting like children. It was a squabble for the sake of it.Both of them had been called to the Head of Humanities office the day before classes officially started to have a meeting about their new schedules and it had not gone well, mostly because Spencer had requested her usual time slot.

"I booked Taliesin Hall for 9-11 on Mondays like I've done every year since I started working here," Y/N argued, leaning back in her chair and throwing out her arms.

Why had he done it? To be a dick? Well, yes and no. He wanted to be a dick to her, but it was also because he'd moved apartments and his new place was further away. He didn't want the original time they'd given him for Monday mornings because he wasn't a morning guy and he'd have to get up early to make it on time.

Because Spencer was more accomplished and more people knew his name, he brought a lot of attention to the university just by being employed there. Therefore, if he wanted the hall at 9 on a Monday, he'd have the hall at 9 on a Monday. It didn't matter that Y/N had worked there for longer, or was more proactive about engaging with the uni's residents, or that she had more students than he did.

"Dr Reid, are you willing to change time slots with Dr L/N?" Dean Mitchell asked with a sigh. If he had hair to pull out, he would've at this point.

"No I am not."

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to deal with your current time, Dr L/N."

Spencer crossed his arms and leant back in his chair to mimic Y/N teasingly, unable to hide the smug smile from his face. This was a little different from their usual spats. They rarely ever argued. It was primarily Reid going out of his way to make her life just that bit more difficult and Y/N rolling her eyes but, ultimately, it didn't change much about her day.

On that day he managed to get a reaction. She let out a groan - one that was defeated and tired and almost seemed desperate - and tapped her foot a few times. Her hand came up to wipe the corner of her eye briefly as a couple of stray tears escaped. And it made him feel like shit.

"Thank you very much, Dr Reid," she replied sarcastically. He watched as she stormed down the corridor, muttering something about visitation times, and left the office.

Yeah, he'd won. He should've felt victorious. He didn't. There was something far too raw in her voice for him to truly think this was part of the fun little game he was playing on her. He felt awful. And guilty. And stupid for making her cry. This was something beyond just a schedule change, he knew that. And if he pretended not to care, eventually he wouldn't care.

"What was that about?" Mitchell queried, taking a sip from his tea and watching him intently as he put the cup down.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Technically, that was a lie. Spencer could use his profiling skills on Y/N to deduce as much as he could about her, but looking at her in a deeper way would mean that he would really have to look at her. He'd have to see that face for an extended period of time and not fall into her trap of thinking that she was the most interesting woman he'd ever met. Because she wasn't. How could she be? Y/N was just another person in a line of hundreds.

Instead of saying all that, Spencer shrugged nonchalantly and exited the room, waving his goodbye to Dean Mitchell as he left.

That night, he stayed up thinking and tossing and turning about what he said. He thought a thousand thoughts that night, but he kept coming back to one thing: he made her cry. He'd actually done that. Like a fucking asshole. What was he even trying to prove? That he was better than her? That she was missing out on him being in her life? Because, if anything, he'd purposely trying to fuck with her for months now and probably was better off before she met him.

He'd find out the reason why it had gotten to her so badly a few weeks later. It was time for the monthly staff meeting and there was one chair - that was usually occupied - unoccupied. Both of them were creatures of habit and always sat in the same spot so it was obvious when the chair in front of Spencer remained empty. He'd often kick the back of her foot - like an actual child instead of a fully grown adult man - to annoy her until she sat cross legged on the chair to prevent him from continuing. But, Y/N wasn't there. He was staring into space and not the back of her head.

Gordon Patel, one of the performing arts lecturers that Spencer had observed talking to Y/N often, leant across and whispered to him, "Y/N's not coming."

"Do you know why?"

"Her mother's getting worse."

Honestly, he had no clue what was going on with Y/N's mother and urged, "Yeah?"

"She's been bad for a while now." Gordon paused. "If I remember correctly, Y/N said she's in and out of the ICU. Y/N used to check up on her after work but 'somebody' messed that up."

A sick mom? A pang of empathy hit him hard at that comment. He could relate to that. And he'd made her life harder when she was in a situation like that, well, he felt like shit about it now. He nodded silently and tried to focus on his own discussion, though his mind was elsewhere entirely. If he thought he felt like shit before, he sure as hell felt ten times worse now. The whole thing with Y/N really was eating him up inside and he had no idea how to deal with it or where to go. He couldn't even talk to her without sounding like a complete idiot.

So, he didn't talk to her. Yet, Spencer was always watching - maybe it was a habit of being a profiler, or maybe it was because why would he pay attention to anything else if Y/N was there? - and he'd noticed that she was getting more withdrawn by the day. Even her smile wasn't genuine anymore. Eye bags were her new accessory.

Somehow, her passion remained. It was evident in her actions, even if they were short lived. She was still determined to teach and she didn't take no for an answer, especially when it came to her class. With everything going on behind the scenes, she'd arranged for her class to go on field trips if there was anything filming in the general area of the uni and was often seen out in the quad with a camera in her hands, aiding whichever student was deciding to make a film that week.

However, Spencer did allow himself to be a little kind to her. Every Monday right after her lecture she'd find a single daffodil on the desk in her office and was accompanied the first time with a post it note on top that read:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Although Wordsworth was talking about finding pleasure in the natural world - specifically a field of daffodils - to Reid, the natural world was filled to the brim with germs. There was no pleasure to him in dirt and trees and the flowers themselves. Replacing Y/N with daffodils was very doable. Just like the flower's meaning, he wanted to start over with her, to have a rebirth of their relationship.

There was still a lot of anger inside of him, all pent up because he'd been trying not to fall back into his routine of being a dick and it was becoming more tempting every time she ignored him.

Surprisingly enough, the one, the only, Penelope Garcia was the reason they spoke again. For New Years Eve, Penelope had gathered her nearest and dearest in her apartment. Emily had gone back to England. JJ was with Will and her kids at Will's mother's place. Hotch and Jack were with his sister in law and father in law. Tara, Luke, Derek and his family, Kate and hers, Spencer and a couple of Penelope's buddies that he'd never met before were all squished in her apartment, which definitely wasn't suited for that many people.

Spencer was sitting on the couch with Sergio pawing at his leg when the door opened, his brows furrowing as Penelope ushered Y/N inside with an excited, "You came! I missed you so much! Come in, come, come." Penelope was crushing Y/N into a hug at the very first opportunity she had. The pair stood in the doorway for a couple of minutes, slowly swaying in their embrace, until Penelope finally broke away with a big grin.

"Look at this dress! Look at you! You're so pretty that I might die!" Penelope cheered, pulling the other girl by the hips to inspect the leopard print cami dress she was wearing. Penelope even fiddled with the fabric right at the leg slit and Y/N smoothed her hands away before the whole party was unwillingly flashed with hot pink underwear. If that had happened, Spencer wouldn't have been all that disappointed.

"Me? Look at you, my lovely! Most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Y/N cooed, twirling her friend around once so her dress would swish around a little, then Penelope did the same for Y/N.

On anyone else, that dress may have looked tacky. Spencer knew that. He didn't know much about fashion but he knew that. On Y/N? Well, he thought it was gorgeous. His eyes raked over the rest of her as she hung her leather jacket up (that Spencer knew definitely wasn't warm enough for this time of year) and was pulled toward the kitchen by Garcia. Those legs. Her thighs, her hips, those breasts, those curves, those...

Spencer blinked. Like a teenage boy, he was ogling and it didn't matter if Penelope caught him or not.

From his seat on the couch, Spencer watched the two of them interact with curiosity. They clearly knew each other well. But how? When? Where? His brain was running through all possible circumstances that could explain Penelope knowing Y/N. He didn't even realise he was glaring in their direction until two strong hands clasped down on his shoulders. He was at a party with a fair few people, one of them was going to notice at some point.

"Pretty boy, did Penelope give away the last cookie? Is that why you're brooding over here?" Derek asked, shaking him lightly as if trying to jostle him from his thoughts.

"No."

"What's wrong with your face then?"

"Nothing."

Sighing dramatically and sitting himself down next to Spencer, Derek rolled his eyes and began playing with Sergio's ears. "What's Penelope done now?"

"She hasn't done anything."

If Penelope wasn't the issue...

"Oh, I get it." Morgan nodded, looking smug as he took his eyes away from Sergio for a split second. "You haven't been introduced to Y/N yet, and instead of doing it yourself and saying hi to a lady you obviously find attractive, you're here, sulking with poor ol' Sergio."

Right on the money. Spencer groaned loudly. Of course. Why was he surprised? Morgan was good at reading his mind. He'd learned long ago that there was nothing he could do to stop his buddy from finding out anything he wanted. Spencer turned and gave him a death glare.

"I'll introduce you to Y/N."

"I already know Dr L/N."

"Dr L/N, huh? Let me take a guess, you lecture at the same college?"

Derek knew he was right. Spencer's reaction told him everything he needed to know, but he still couldn't resist teasing him further. Spencer groaned, turning red in embarrassment as he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact completely and hoping to god that the conversation didn't carry any farther. If it did, he had to come clean.

But Derek had already begun laughing. "Come on, Pretty Boy." Derek teased, bumping him lightly. "Get up and talk to her."

Reluctantly, Spencer groaned louder this time but obliged and got up off the sofa with a deep sigh. It was time. He made his way into the kitchen and watched Penelope as she poured two glasses of wine, just lurking in the doorway until they noticed him.

"I made you some cookies," Penelope offered, hopping up on the counter and grinning at Y/N. "They're chocolate chip."

"My favourite."

"I know. Why do you think I made them?" Penelope reached for the tupperware of cookies and shoved them in front of Y/N. "Eat!"

Y/N said a quick, "Thank you, Penny. Love you, Penny," as she took a bite. Her eyes widened immediately at the sweet taste of the cookie, mumbling, "Soooooo good," through a mouthful of crumbs.

Just as Penelope was about to reach out to take a cookie, Spencer accidentally pressed his elbow into the light switch and plunged the whole kitchen into darkness, letting out a loud, "Ow!" because he'd hit himself right on the funny bone. He flipped the light back on. "Sorry, Pen."

"Spence! I have to introdu-"

"We know each other, Penny," Y/N cut in, placing her arm on Penelope in the hopes to calm her excitement down. The techie had been telling Y/N all about the Spencer she worked with and they'd often joked that Penelope's Spencer was miles better than the Spencer from Y/N's job. Weirdly, his last name had never come up. And alas, they were the same Spencer.

"You two know -" The penny dropped. "Oh. Oh! My dreams of the two of you becoming fast friends has been squashed flat." Penelope shook her head disapprovingly, sipping her wine and eyeing Spencer in disdain. She slapped him on the arm. "That is for being so rude all the time!"

Two more slaps on his arm soon came when all he did was whine in protest. After he got his own slaps for acting like a child, Penelope turned back to look at Y/N, who was hiding a little smirk behind her hand. "Spencer Walter Reid, you are going to be polite and kind to my very sexy friend or I will reveal your browser history to everyone at this party. Capeesh?" Penelope warned, looking like an angry pomeranian as she glared at him, a finger pointing between his eyes.

Spencer raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Okay! Okay!"

"Say hi to Y/N. Nicely."

After a minute of silent awkwardness, Spencer cleared his throat and addressed Y/N. "So, uh, yeah. Hi."

"Hi?" Y/N repeated back with confusion written all over her face. She tilted her head to really look at him and that was it. He was suddenly even more self conscious and shifted uncomfortably on the spot under her gaze.

His eyes darted to Penelope's, who was looking between the two with a mischievous glint shining in her eyes. She wasn't a profiler but she'd known him long enough to read him like a book. The look on his face said it all. He was just a little boy pulling on the girl he liked pigtails.

"How, uh, how do you know each other?" he stuttered out to the girls, who immediately turned to catch each other's eye.

"You know I took you to the Dr Who watchalong at Noble's?"

Oh no, she likes Dr Who, too, he thought. That was another thing they had in common.

"Y/N here is a regular, just like me. We've been to how many Ren Faire's together now?" Penelope gushed, throwing her arms around Y/N and that action was very quickly reciprocated.

"Five."

"I swear it was six."

"We didn't go together the first time, we just happened to be at the same mead vendor and you didn't let me leave without forcing me to buy you a drink," Y/N reminded with amusement dancing in her eyes as she brushed Penelope's fringe out of her face with gentle fingers.

They were so affectionate to one another it was adorable. It was clear they had the kind of female friendship that was on the borders of lesbianism at times but most often was platonic. There was this yearning - not just for Y/N to act affectionately towards him - for himself to be open enough to be touched and petted and have hair lovingly stroked away from his face without retreating. He liked physical touch but there always was this barrier in the way that stopped him from allowing himself that joy.

So, yeah, he was a little jealous of Penelope. Who isn't? She's super cool and likeable?

"I count that time!"

"It's six then," Y/N conceded immediately, chuckling at Penelope's exaggerated pout.

From the other room, one of the party goers called out for their gracious host and Penelope rushed off to help, leaving the two professors to stew in the awkwardness of being alone together. Y/N looked to Reid and saw him looking nervously at his feet. He was biting on his bottom lip.

"Would you like a cookie?" she offered kindly, gesturing to the tupperware in her hands and holding them out to him when he nodded.

"...Thanks."

It was quiet again. Y/N shyly smiled in response as she handed it over to him and watched as he picked one out carefully and popped it in his mouth before making his way across the kitchen to lean against the counter opposite. They were both hesitant. It was only natural; neither of them wanted to make a scene at this party. Y/N didn't know what to say to him and Spencer seemed to notice.

"I've never been to a Ren Faire, what's it like?"

All the tension in her shoulders relaxed at once. She hadn't expected him to initiate a conversation but she was grateful for the chance to talk to him about something else. Anything else. So, she told him about her time at Ren Faire's, peppering funny stories about Penelope whenever it was a natural moment to do so, and was surprised when he listened to her.

Like, really listened with follow up questions and comments every once in a while. It was nice, she thought, to finally stop squabbling with Spencer after months of doing it nonstop.

"Maybe you can come with us next year?" Y/N offered, taking a sip from the glass of wine. She gave him a soft smile in return and then looked down at her glass, feeling a little bashful. The corners of Spencer's lips twitched into a small smile. "I'm sure Penelope wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, okay," He agreed. "I would love to try it out. Thanks for inviting me."

"And I understand if you have a case and need to go off halfway through. I'm used to it with Pen." Her fingers tapped against the counter. "I didn't know you worked for the FBI. Do you go by Dr or SSA?"

"Dr. I've worked in the BAU for so long now, but when I first started my mentor, Gideon, he made sure that everyone knew I was capable even if I was young and inexperienced." Spencer rubbed at his neck awkwardly, avoiding Y/N’s inquisitive stare. "He was a good man."

Was. She heard that loud and clear. It was a night of celebration, why would she delve deeper into the death of his mentor. One, she barely knew him. Two, it was a time to be happy. Three, they'd crawled their way from the awkwardness, she didn't want to accidently plunge them back in.

But, Spencer didn't think of that.

"How's your mother? Is she still sick?"

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the change of topic. In all honesty, she didn't think he knew her mother had been ill. Why would he know that? Why would he care? For some reason, it became difficult for her to speak, to breathe. A lump began to form in the back of her throat which forced her voice to crack in surprise. She cleared her throat and took another swig of wine in an attempt to steady herself.

“Oh, I don't want to talk about that right now.”

"Not good, huh?"

Why didn't he let the topic slip? Shit! Shit, shit, shit! She looked down, avoiding Spencer's curious gaze as she fiddled with her fingers and tried to figure out what to say. She'd never been comfortable talking about it with anyone and especially not Dr Reid.

Some innate need to comfort her came over Spencer. He was never good at this sort of thing but he'd try. He'd try so hard because he'd been such a super dick and maybe - just maybe - being a super nice and comforting guy would help ease his conscience. If not, well, that was fine too. Because at least she would get some peace of mind and the weight of everything that happened would lessen a little bit. He was determined to make amends and he needed to start somewhere, so why not start now?

His hand was reaching for hers before he could second guess his decision but he didn't pull back. Instead, he laced their fingers together, letting his thumb rub over the back of her hand gently, a gentle soothing action that felt nice. The warmth radiating from his skin and the strength of his grip on her hand made her feel safe, secure and protected in its grasp. The gesture brought her back to reality.

The sound of the party was still roaring on the other side of the wall, the noise reverberating throughout the apartment but that was just white noise for the moment. Right now she could concentrate solely on Reid.

Her eyes flicked down to their intertwined hands then up to meet his. They were warm. Comforting. A soft sigh escaped her lips. His thumb caressed the back of her hand ever so gently and his gaze was intense as they held onto each other. His eyes were filled with a certain sadness that Y/N couldn't decipher but she did know that whatever it was, it could be found in hers too.

"My mom is sick too - schizophrenia and Alzheimer's is not a great combination - our situations probably aren't entirely the same, I don't think, but I do understand and relate to it more than most." He swallowed thickly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. His free hand gripped tightly around the edge of the countertop so it could keep him grounded. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I know the burden it is."

In a flash, her arms were around him, pulling him close to her. Spencer froze but soon melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her very, very slowly. He finally hugged her, his cheek resting atop her hair as he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his throat constrict at the overwhelming amount of emotions threatening to spill over.

Holy shit. She was hugging him. Actually hugging him. Physical contact! And even better, physical contact that didn't spook him into pushing her away. Even though they both knew that this wasn't how they normally acted towards one another, it was okay. They were allowed to hug even if they weren't exactly friends.

Their bodies stayed pressed against one another not saying anything for a while and, in that peace, Spencer's hand ran along the length of her arm, softly stroking upwards, until he got to her shoulder, then drifted down to her wrist, then up again, then down again, repeating the motion over and over.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't like people touching you," Y/N whispered, pulling away just slightly so she could look up at him properly. There was a hint of regret in her tone and that broke his heart. He quickly shook his head to dispel those thoughts.

"No, no. You're good," he reassured her and wound his arms around her waist again, bringing her closer to him. He hesitated briefly, not wanting to push her boundaries. "You don't have to apologise-"

"I do."

"No, if anyone should be apologising, it's me for being...this." He released one arm from around her torso to gesture to himself. "For being an ass, I mean," he amended. Y/N sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder, and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but chuckle at his attempt at an apology.

Yeah, he had been an ass.

Awkwardly, they disentangled from each other, not really knowing where to stand next since none of them had known quite how to behave around each other before now. Spencer stood up straight, clearing his throat in a hurry to seem normal, and Y/N mirrored his actions.

"Listen, uh...about the way I've treat-" He started, not looking Y/N in the eye because if he did, there was no way he would be able to stop his cheeks from heating up.

Confessing now would be a good thing. It would explain why he was a dick - although, did it really? - and help her piece together his motive. And, he just really wanted it off his chest. Maybe if he let the words out into the world, they might manifest into something good.

"So someone finally introduced you to the famous Dr L/N!" Derek cheered, interrupting Spencer and effectively distracting the both of them from the conversation they were supposed to be having. Reid's head dropped in anguish.

"Chocolate Thunder, how lovely to see you again," Y/N replied in an equally cheery tone and turned around to face him, being enveloped in a bear hug as soon as Morgan reached her. He patted her back lightly, grinning brightly. "Is Hank here?"

"I swear you like my child more than me? That hurts, woman!" Derek chuckled, letting her go from his hold. "Yes, my baby boy is here but you'll have to pry him from Penelope's arms to say hello."

It made sense that Y/N would know Morgan if she hung out with Garcia a lot. Before Savannah, Derek and his babygirl were attached at the hip whenever they didn't have a case or were in the process of finding a significant other since it's hard to explain to potential romantic partners that you have a platonic twin flame that you spend 24/7 with in and out of work without them getting the wrong idea. If Y/N had been friends with her during that time - which she was judging by the fact that Garcia limited herself to only one renaissance faire per year because that makes it extra special when you do finally go - she'd definitely know Morgan.

From where he stood, Spencer shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes trained on his feet, his hands in his pockets, and his expression unreadable. Morgan noticed and furrowed his brows curiously. He nudged Y/N's arm, mumbling, "Why don't you attempt to convince Pen to take a break? I bet Hank can do with a breather from all the bright colours," and Y/N did as he said.

She did do something she'd never done before, however. On her way out of the kitchen, she craned her head over her shoulder to shoot Spencer a smile and uttered a quiet, "See you later, Dr Reid."

With that, she left the two men alone. Spencer watched her retreating form with mixed feelings; on the one hand, her smile warmed him inside out. On the other hand, his confession still only existed in his brain, the words ringing loudly in his head as he tried to ignore the ache that settled deep within his core.

"Oooooooh, Dr Reid, huh? There's got to be some sort of catnip in your bumbling genius deal because that woman was throwing herself into your arms. I saw it through the door." Derek teased. "And I'm glad she did but please, for Pete's sake, get a grip already! I've seen you pine over girls before and I've only witnessed this for less than 10 minutes but this is ridiculous!"

Spencer winced in embarrassment, cursing Morgan silently to Hell and wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

"I was going to then you interrupted me!"

"Oh sorry, player. My bad."

"...Morgan."

Morgan cackled at Spencer's scowl before getting back on track to ease his little brother, who seemed to be struggling even worse than before. "Hey bud, come with me, Tara has been arguing with me for the past hour and I need my encyclopaedia to kick her ass," he suggested with a grin, ruffling his hair in the process.

Time ticked on, and after what felt like forever - but was in reality just an hour or so - the countdown to the new year was about to begin. As everyone gathered around the tv, Derek and Penelope winked at each other.

5...

Garcia took Hank from Y/N's arms so they'd be free, ignoring her friend's confused complaint. Morgan guided Spencer by the shoulder until he was in pushing distance of Y/N, and then he proceeded to push the lanky man in her direction.

4...

Derek wrapped his arm around Savannah's waist directly afterwards, as if he hadn't just set things in motion.

3...

Y/N caught Spencer's forearms to steady him, and her fingers curled around the sleeves of his shirt, holding on tight so he didn't trip over his own feet and hurt himself on the way.

2...

Before it had reached the inevitable conclusion of the year, Spencer was ducking his head and capturing Y/N's lips between his. For the first few brief moments, she paused, startled at the sudden action, but soon returned the kiss nonetheless. Her hand slid under the collar of his, cupping the side of his neck as he tilted his head forward to deepen the kiss.

1...

It continued through to the new year. Although when the countdown did get to 0, there were other couples having a smooch. Garcia even gave Hank a big sloppy kiss on his cheek, causing his giggle fit to make everything even more hilarious. Morgan laughed out loud while watching their friends making fools of themselves - he'd given his wife a sweet smooch and pulled away to find that the two were still lip locking.

"Jesus, pretty boy, there are children around!" Derek joked, clapping his hands loudly.

The couple broke apart, blushed bright red in embarrassment and attempted to brush themselves off as inconspicuous as possible. Spencer cleared his throat, averting his gaze towards the floor for several seconds. When he raised it again, he realised that his friends were all giving him teasing thumbs ups and whoop-inducing cheers.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," Spencer sighed, but his being was suddenly overcome with chuckles. Happy chuckles. 'Thank fuck I finally did that' chuckles. Because, thank fuck, he finally did it.

They were teased and good naturedly taunted as everyone began to leave, one by one. It was way beyond Hank's bedtime so Morgan and Savannah were the first to part, both being insufferably enthusiastic and encouraging towards Spencers. Kate and Co were next. Penelope's other friends all seemed to leave in one big herd.

Tara quietly slipped out the door so she didn't have to fifth wheel since Luke was lingering around, looking as if he was going to be staying the night.

"I better go," Y/N stated, reluctantly pulling away from Spencer's side since he'd been trapping her against him since midnight. It was a consensual trapping, and Y/N was allowed breaks to get another drink or use the bathroom, but it was clear that he wanted her attached to his hip whenever he could.

His coworkers were astonished. Jaw dropping stuff. JJ would be so pissed she missed it for more than one reason.

"I could walk you to your car?"

"Y/N got the train, didn't you, sexy?" Penelope informed him with a smug grin. "She doesn't like driving."

Another thing they had in common.

"I got the metro too, would you want to walk there together?"

"If you're happy with leaving now, yeah... yeah, I'd like that, Spencer."

She'd never called him by his name before. It felt weird and wonderful, and so right. His name was like the sweetest, most wonderful sound in the world when it came from her lips.

"Okay, yeah."

He was beaming, and as soon as his eyes met hers, his dimples making an appearance. Penelope gripped Luke's hand far too tightly to restrain herself from letting out a ear piercing squeal of joy, and she looked like she was on the verge of bursting into happy tears at any moment.

While Y/N was in the process of gathering her belongings and bidding Penelope goodbye, he didn't move. He was frozen in place, watching her with a huge grin, as if he was afraid that I'd he broke his gaze or something, he would wake up alone in a lumpy bed and have to get to work on another gruesome murder case as soon as his feet touched the gross hotel carpet.

Luke slapped Spencer on the shoulder, physically saying 'time to go, loverboy', and pushed him towards the open door. Spencer stumbled a little and looked like he was going to say something, but he just shook his head and waited for Penelope to stop whispering in Y/N's ear before they made their escape.

It was so quiet.

Without all the music and chattering of party guests, it was so quiet. The air was cool and refreshing, and the world was practically asleep or too drunk to bother walking home. They walked side by side, at a leisurely pace, and it was nice. There was a smidge of tension - obviously, you don't make out with your coworker in front of a bunch of people without there being some unsaid things still lingering in the air - but it wasn't unbearable. If anything, it felt... comforting, almost.

They'd got to their train with mere seconds left to spare. The automatic doors closed behind them, and they were seated in the carriage as soon as they spotted free seats. There were more people on the train than in the streets, though the pair would've been huddled together even if the carriage had been free. Mostly because it was really fucking cold out.

"Are you cold?" Spencer asked Y/N as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. "Do you want my jacket?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'm fine."

Spencer didn't listen - he could literally see her shivering in her boots - and was tugging his coat off his shoulders for her.

"Spencer-"

"I'm trying not to argue with you anymore but I will. Please? If you're cold, I can help you with that."

And this time, she didn't protest as he slid his coat over her shoulders. "Thanks," she said softly, and he felt a little giddy. Even though his jacket didn't really go with her outfit, it was the best thing he'd ever seen. Y/N was wearing his clothes. His! He didn't even know how that was possible, but it was before his eyes so it had to be. He didn't know why it made him feel so damn good, but it did.

"Any time."

He couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear.

Coincidentally, they had to get off at the same train stop and, without verbalising it to her, Spencer had decided to walk her home. He was a hardened FBI agent (that was allowed to skip the physical tests because his brain was too valuable to rule out, but hey) and could walk home without being scared by all the shadow monsters that come out in the dark of the night. Plus, his apartment was in the same general direction.

During their walk, one completely normal streetlamp - completely the same as the rest of the others on the street - happened to be shining its light directly on a store that Spencer was very familiar with. Y/N, however, was more familiar with the item on show in the middle of the shop window.

"...Daffodils."

Daffodils can be found in almost any florist across the world. But it was the fact that the florist was named 'Wordsworth's', that twigged Y/N's attention. That paired with the poem meant that it wasn't so outlandish to assume that whoever left her weekly flowers probably got them from this shop. Out of the two of them, Spencer was the profiler but he could tell he was made.

The case of the appearing daffodils had been solved.

"How much money have you wasted on me?" she asked, eyes still fixed on the price sign right next to the bouquet in the window.

Spencer continued to grin at Y/N as she ogled at the flowers in the window, standing under the spotlight. It was nice to see her still be so enamoured with something he frequently bought for her. "It wasn't a waste," he announced, and he meant it. "You're worth it."

"I am?" she asked, sounding surprised. "I guess I kind of assumed you hated me before tonight."

A huff was released from his nose and averted his gaze to his shoes for a brief moment before he looked back up at her. She tilted her head a little, curious as to why he seemed so put out. "I'm really bad at dealing with my emotions," he clarified.

"Okay," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "You don't have to buy me flowers."

"I want to. I'll buy you whatever you want," he said without thinking.

Y/N laughed, the sound so light and carefree and getting closer to him until she was right before him, and for a moment, he didn't feel the chill in the air. Y/N seemed to think about it for a second, her expression flickering between amusement and nervousness, before she grabbed his face and kissed him.

It started out slow, lips barely touching lips, but it soon picked up pace until the kiss became frantic and Spencer lost his footing on a patch of icy pavement, causing them both to plummet to the floor. They hit the ground with an 'oof' and tumbled into a heap on the curb, Y/N falling on top of Spencer's chest.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, all of a sudden, they burst out laughing. Spencer leant on his elbows, grinning up at Y/N and feeling his heart rate increase at the sensation of her pressed up against him.

"Are you okay?"

"Shhhh... Just kiss me again."

So he did.

Eventually, they got up, cleaned their hands with the pocket squeezy sanitiser Spencer kept on him at all times and continued their walk home.

"Did you know that putting a bouquet in the fridge prolongs the lifespan of flowers?" Spencer began, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Really? That's not true."

"The daffodils I have in my refrigerator say otherwise."

"You don't have daffodils in your fridge."

"I do too."

Despite how earnest he sounded, she still didn't believe him. Was it really believable that he filled up his fridge for weeks with a bouquet of daffodils for her? Because he liked her so much? What did he do with his food? Did the flowers contaminate it? Or did he store them in containers? Why would he do that for her when he treated her like he had before tonight?

"I could prove it to you, if you want?"

Oh. He subtly just asked her to his place without thinking - which was good, overall - but his apartment was in no shape to host guests in. There were books everywhere. Laundry strewn on the couch. One or two half drunk coffee cups left out on the kitchen counter. It was a mess. A clean mess, but still.

"You want me to come over to check out your fridge?" she asked him.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, we could have a coffee and I have a tub of mango sorbet that we could share." He shrugged, pretending to be all calm and casual. "But only if you want to - no pressure - seriously, none. We can forget I ever asked if -"

"Show me your fridge, Dr Reid."

Being a homebody meant that Spencer was always excited to go home. He'd never been this excited before. They hoofed it to get out of the cold, and once they were indoors, they stood in front of an opened fridge to peer inside at the batch of flowers that took up an entire shelf. He didn’t have much else going on in there - why would he keep a lot of fresh produce when he is away for extended periods that they'd become rotten during? - but the daffodils was enough entertainment.

That night, the pair ate sorbet and talked. Really talked. Spencer apologised over and over for his behaviour, and though one night wouldn't erase multiple semester's worth of annoyance, it was a start.

And when the new term commenced, Y/N was expecting to see a single daffodil on her desk as she had the previous.

She didn’t. Not a single flower was in sight.

So, in her momentary disappointment, she reached into her drawer and pulled out her scrapbook to flick through all the flower pressings and post it note poems she'd glued in a fancy looking layout.

"I didn't know you kept them all."

Spencer's voice caused Y/N's head to shoot up from the page and found him in her office doorway with a whole bouquet of daffodils in his hand. Her eyes lit up and she beelined for him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"My train was late, petal."

"Excuses, excuses, Dr Reid."

"Oh, it's Dr Reid today?" he teased, leaning close enough to nudge his nose into hers. "Do you think sweet cheeks is too unprofessional, Dr L/N?"

"Maybe it is, sweet cheeks."

The flowers were gently placed on the nearest surface so Spencer could use both hands to cradle her cheeks and pull her in for a kiss. He smiled against her lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled in happiness. Because he'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd gained her affection.

And now he had it, he was never going to let it wilt. It may have to go in the fridge for a moment or two, but it would always be brought back into the sunlight.