#and more importantly take care of their team
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The Chains Are Heavy
(Levi's long awaited backstory, finally)
Special thanks to everyone who has been following and rp with me. You really have helped make this character more than he was meant to be.
(@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency @tired-sayaka-ada @never-gets-sick @oscarsgallery @city-of-c0rpses @v-extreme-diminuendo @kijimha )
How did I get here again? It could all have been a simple life for me, but it wasn't. Ever since I became 10, I was rob. Robbed of my family, friends, goals, dreams, my childhood, and most importantly my innocence.
Not just my innocent mentally, but literally too. I lost my innocence of being a civil. They all hate me now. Rightfully so. After all I have been nothing but a danger to everyone around me. All I did was make things worse. This war could have ended quicker if it way for me....
How did I get here again....
Foul Ball
It all started on March 22, a day after my birthday and two days after my best buddy's birthday, Cooper. We have been friends since daycare and being in the nursery at church. Cooper was a year younger than me, he was a wild kid, always taking things to the risk or the extreme. Super fast as well, faster than all of the kids on the playground, running was one of his passions. Cooper once told me that when he grows up he'll become a track star. As silly as it sound he had my full support, because you could never say no to Cooper. You could never tell him what to do.
I on the other hand was the balance for Cooper's wild behavior. Much more soft spoken and tame for a 10 year old. I may have not been the fastest runner, but I sure did have a good arm at throwing things. I had a goal, to become the world's best baseball player. It was my dream after all, to be on the professional teams and be famous. I wanted to make my mom proud
I must admit some of my behavior is like that, mostly because I was a mommas boy. It was just her and I after all, which I didn't mind. Though sometimes Cooper would joke that his dad, who was also single, should marry my mom so that we can be brothers and live together. I always told him that we wouldn't need legal documents in order to be brothers. As long as we stick together we will always be brothers.
Well that promise didn't last long... Cooper and I wear out in the front yard of my house, playing baseball as usual. I was using my new metal bat that I got for my birthday, it was much stronger than my old wooden bat. We were having a fun time, Cooper was about to throw the ball until he arm suddenly dropped and let go of the ball.
"What's wrong?" I asked as I turned my head to see what Cooper was now looking at. My eyes widen and I start to feel the same sense of fear that Cooper might be feeling. Two black cars parked in my driveway, and five government agents came out of them. My heart skips a beat. It can't be.
I watched as the knocked on the front door of my home, my mom answering it a second later. The government agents start talking to her, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I could tell by the look on mom's face that this way good.
Cooper tugged on my sleeve. "You don't think the president actually signed that bill right?..." Cooper looked worried now, and I so was I. I clenched my fist into my shirt.
"He would only sign it if war ever started....." The realization dawned upon us both. My lips trembled. "I don't want to go to war...." I mumbled those words with tears falling from my eyes.
That was the last day I ever saw my mom again.
That was the day I was robed of everything.
Strike 1
A 10 year old out in the battlefields of war, that isn't something you saw everyday. But here I was, fearing that my life could end at any moment in these trenches. And it would be like this for the next 9 years.
It took some adjusting to, though there was no time to adjust. Hand a gun to a 10 year old and tell him to go to the trenches and figure it out. I wasn't even given training. They didn't care. They wouldn't care about me. I was a child who would get in their way.
I didn't blame them. After all this wasn't the military decision after all, it was the horrible president at the time who made this decision. What the Nimone government did was cruel. They went through every legal citizen document and determined who would be drafted into war. We already had plenty of men above 18 drafted, but it wasn't enough. With the law at the time, anyone who was above 10 years old, could be drafted if they were proved useful enough to be used.
And that's what upset me the most. That I was just some weapon in their eyes. A tool to be once and never again. I wasn't the only one upstairs though. Many parents and families were upstairs by this dumb decision. It wasn't just families either, it was our own men as well who were outraged by this decision.
Upon my first day at the military base I met the leader of my unit squad, Captain Ross. He was a tall and well built man, always having a cigarette in hand and giving cold gazes at everyone. It was scary first meetings him. After all, the captains in the Nimone are train and built to be unstoppable military weapons. Nothing can stop them, and they will not stop until they are dead.
Being compared to this grown man compared to me was quite scary contrast. I was just some tiny kid compared to him. We both looked at each other for the first time and I can tell by the look in his mustard yellow eyes that he was displeased. There was a scoff as Ross stared down at me. "Who the Hell put a 10 year old in my unit squad? This is a kid, he should be home, not here about to die for our country." At least Ross and I were on the same page. Who's mess up idea was this anyways?
Everything from that day forward continued to go down. You expect the 10 year old to be a helper in transporting supplies or be in the med bay, but no I was thrown straight to the front lines. The trenches. The conditions of trenches were horrible, but the treatment around here was worse.
I wasn't given proper clothes that were my size, everything I worn was made for grown men. I had to learn how to sew to keep my shirt together because I wasn't given new clothes. I been wearing the same shirt the militarily gave me for over 10 years now.
The bunks were hard as rocks, I could barely sleep. That's even if I could sleep at all within the anxiety that any moment a bomb could drop on us. Sometimes I didn't even get to sleep in bed. Someone I would pass out in the trenches or on the floor. I had to push myself to still be barely functional.
They needed me after all, all for my ability. It was either fighting in the trenches, or infiltrating the enemy team as a spy. With my ability I could look, sound, and act like someone else as long as I had a single strand of their DNA on a peice of clothing for me to wear, I could transform to be like them. Mirror Mirror, I called it. This was useful to the military, since I had to use it a lot. My ability was the only reason why I was still living while fellow soliders fall dead to the floor before my eyes.
They all started calling me DNA, Levi DNA, since that's what I was to them. I was called that name so many times that to this day I can't remember my own real last name now. That war has made me forget a lot of things.
Strike 2
I try to suppress the memories and nightmares so hard, but at the cost of forgetting anything good before the war. I was robed of the memories of my childhood because of it. Even if I did try to forget, the ones that were the worse always lingered in the back of my mind. All those moments of being in pain and suffering. Everything was starting to become dull around 18.
This was had been going on for so long that I was loosing my reason to keep fighting. As if I ever had a reason to in the first place. I was just doing what I was told. Go spy on these guys, aim for the head, use your ability, back to the battlefield you go. All words that have no importance to me anymore.
I remember one time I was in the medical bay, I had gotten badly injured, but even in that moment I couldn't rest for long. Dr. Ikari, a young man who never got to finish school, had to patch me up. Unfortunately he had to send me right back out to the battlefield a minute after he was done attending me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were feeling the same thing. This dullness that we both felt. I barely talked to him, but I could tell that both of our worlds were become gray.
When I was around 19 I thought there was nothing left to look forward to. The war was slowing down but I was already numb. Or so I thought until one day I saw a familiar face. Jumps off the bus was a familiar red head, it was Cooper! For the first moment in a long time I smiled as I saw him. He spotted me and we waved to each other. He still recognized me! I never felt more happy in that moment.
At last we can be like brothers again. Things became less dull, there was some color back into my life. Things were finally looking up. We would sit in the dining hall, eating the worst food, but that didn't matter to me. I got to talk to. My best friend.
Cooper would catch me up on everything that I have missed and I would vent to him about how this war was. His optimism brought up my spirits, which brought me to ease. He barely has changed since I last saw him, my same old buddy. We promised that once this war was over that we would support each other while we fulfilled our dreams. A track star and a baseball player.
Strike 3
That promise didn't stay.
I was robed again.
I could never forget that moment.
We were out in the battlefield, trying to traverse no man's land, our side finally had the upper hand in closing end on the enemy. But we lost many men that day, including Cooper.
He didn't react faster in time. Before I knew it, I was cradling his dying body in my arms, blood dripping from his forehead. Cooper was shot in the head. I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't even fighting anymore. All I did was lay on the battlefield, holding him closer to me. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." I would mumble to myself through tears.
But he left. I believe now that he's resting well with God in heaven.
In that moment I could forgive myself. I couldn't forgive the enemy team. I couldn't forgive our own government for all of this. Things were becoming dull again, but there was this redness starting to boil in the inside of me. This ticking time bomb.
Then it happened.
I had enough.
The day I finally snapped.
I'm out
I regret everything I have done in that span of a week. I was the reason why things got worse. It was little things at first. Ignoring Ross commands, running straight into dangerous territory and slaughtering the enemies, or throwing a grenade at helicopters. Then it got worse, I destroyed many of our own military weapons and transport, with some of our own men still in them. I set some of the base on fire. Gave valuable information to the enemy team. Held hostages of innocent people. Many things.
All these things became documented, published for all the public to see. Soon Levi DNA became a name to hate. I was a danger to everyone around me. That I need to be killed or locked up away forever.
There were two final straws that let to my arrest. The president at the time came over to the base, there for a impossible meeting. He was the reason why I was suffering like this. With all the rage built up in me, I tried to assassinate the president. It took 6 guys to stop me from doing so.
But I wasn't done that day. The worst thing that I have done was use me ability for a murder. I transformed to look like Captain Ross, committing a murder on the previous vice captain at that time, making it look like he was the one who did it. I baseball almost ruined his name and reputation.
He hated me that day since.
There I was, now arrested and locked away in a high prison facility. Ross took the pleasure to torture me in breaking my spirit, in which he did. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. Everything had became gray once again. I felt nothing as I sat in my dark cell, chained to the wall. I didn't deserve good treatment. I didn't deserve kindness or anything good. After all a criminal, a monster, doesn't deserve anything at all.
There was no reason for me to live anymore, and I was ready to accept that.
For a long time in that cell I would be in my own little headspace, daydreaming that I was living a better life with my family and friends. It was my only "joy" left. But even that couldn't be enough.
I was ready to end it all, yet a tiny part of me told me not yet. One more chance. I try to ignore that tiny bit of hope left, but I caved in. I made a promise to myself, that if I could not find a reason to continue on living in a month, then I would end it all.
So I acted. With brute force I broke out of that prison. I snuck onto a boat headed towards Japan. I free myself and upon leaving Nimone to Japan, I did find one major thing to keep me living. The sun and rakn. The sun was so warm and bright, great against my skin and the rain was so calming and cooling.
This was my chance to start again.
Back in the game
Upon arriving to Japan, I ended up in Yoko's city. There I was already lost and confused. I didn't know where to go or where to stay. I didn't know Japanese so asking for help was a impossible.
For my first few weeks there I was a hobo, wandering around, taking food out of trash cans. I found a abandon car to sleep in for the nights, but I barely got sleep. Things weren't looking good again. I desperately needed a job.
But who would hire a criminal?
That's until I stumbled upon this building and this man with probably over 20 children. His name was Mr Fukuzawa. And upon meeting him, my life was never the same again. Things changed, for the good this time. And I was welcomed into a new life with such amazing and kind people. My world had color again.
I'm forever thankful for that day.
Thank you.
#bsd oc#bungou stray dogs oc#bsd#bungou stray dogs#levi dna#Cooper Levi's best friend#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs rp
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theres nooo way im trusting a team with a fan base happily saying “spurschester city🤪”…. there’s no way.
#just typing that made me gag#I also pay zero attention to whatever the fuck other prem teams are doing#we do our prayers on our own and most importantly we COYG! genuinely! bc whoooo cares what’s going on with them!!#take that petty stanning and the more than one team in one league support and SHOVE IT
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OMG I JUST NOTICED YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN THAT JUST MADE MY DAY!!!!
anyways can you do headcanons for bllk character introducing you to either their teams or the press iykwim
pretty please I loveeeee your posts so much <333333
Introducing their s/o to their team - isagi, kaiser, rin, hiori, chigiri
m.list | rules
Note : Hiii you're so cute lslsls thank you sm for your request <3 I chose this one cause somebody else asked about the press finding out so I'll do both !
Nobody is mentioned so I'll choose but feel free to ask for your fav !
Isagi
He's so shy but happy omg
He's probably blushing if they keep saying how pretty you are
Those who ask a bit more about you earlier to isagi will probably start a conversation more easily
But you love to talk with everyone!
If you're famous, they'll ask about it or how you two meet or even about your job
But if you're someone like you and me they're begging to know how you two meet
They're probably expect something really cheesy based on isagi himself
He probably get teased a lot afterwards but he takes it easy
he’s just so happy you can finally meet them
Rin
he’s pretty but awful so everybody think he’s bitchless
no need to say that they GASPED when he introduced you
you seem so sweet, what are you doing here ?
“He paid you ?” i definitely see some of them ask you that - like bachira
wait until you tell them that you asked him and he wasn’t planning of doing without you mentioning it
they’re shocked, they feel betrayed and are ready to make a scene to him before you calm it down
everybody want to know more about you, asking you lot of questions to the point that rin has to claim you back
holding your waist or wrist to remind you that he’s there too
I think it goes more simply that he imagined at first
He's always happy when they ask about you even if he doesn’t show it
Chigiri
just like that time they react when they saw his sister, they will ask him who you are even if it’s obvious that you’re his s/o
one or two would probably ask you out on a date to make him mad - tbh it’s really funny to see
he’ll blush and become protective over you, adorable
he would roll his eyes at their jokes but as long as you’re laughing at them, it’s fine with him
he’ll get tease by the gaze he sent you all night, sweet and soft, speaking all the love he has for you before his tongue can
he’s a bit cash if they’re doing to much though, they have to be careful around his lover
Hiori
he talks about you regularly so they’re all happy when he mentions that you’ll tag along for a team meal they’re HYPE
they’re so happy to see you it’s cute, you wish every partner is welcome that way
you’re so soft spoken it totally make sense that you ended up with him
you’re probably a little reserved and overwhelmed at first but they’re calmer than you thought
it’s also a lot funnier than you thought so, even if you stay glued to hiori’s side, you can enjoy the night to the fullest !
he checks on you frequently, catching a lot of eyes and they make sure to let him know
you two are just so cute for sure damn couple goal
Kaiser
ness is jealous lmao
he’s very cocky and proud to introduce you to them
you’re so precious and most importantly : you’re his - he can’t just keep it to himself
sharing the world about you start with his teammates
he’ll tell them how you two meet and how you fall in love with him - as if he wasn’t the one down bad - with his arm around your shoulders to keep you close
he trusted them but they can’t touch <3 even in a friendly way
you’re really welcome though, they’re all very interested in you and your life/job
it goes pretty smoothly, even if ness is a little salty
Sae
he’s reluctant to say the least, he knows he won’t see the end of it
you’re amazing, he loves you unconditionally
but you’re so good like that that he knows he will have to deal with them asking how you’re doing and he doesn’t like it
he says yes anyway, and one day he brings you with him at an unofficial meeting
they’re so shocked but happy to see you in real life (you’re on his lock screen) : they want to know everything
sae is a rather intimate person and doesn’t talk much about his personal life so you’re the one who will tell them the cheesy stuff
yes you received death glares, you you still answer them with a big smile
you’re funny, they already really love you and they can’t wait to see you more around
I hope you liked it !
#blue lock x reader#blue lock headcanons#blue lock fluff#blue lock hc#bllk x reader#bllk headcanons#bllk hcs#bllk fluff#sae x reader#sae headcanons#sae hc#isagi x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi headcanons#isagi fluff#kaiser x reader#kaiser fluff#kaiser hcs#michael kaiser#hiori x reader#hiori headcanons#hiori fluff#hiori yo x reader#chigiri x reader#chigiri headcanons#chigiri hcs#chigiri fluff#rin x reader#rin itoshi x reader#rin hcs
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Broken || Alexia Putellas
summary : you're broken but your girlfriend knows how to hold you together. angst.
a/n : i've literally got no time to write but i've been itching so here just a teeny tiny blurb i came up with before class while listening to the song below.
Based on ‘Stay’ by Gracie Abrams
Alexia walked into your apartment to the sound of your sobs. She almost dropped the groceries she was holding, your dog startled at the sound of a wine bottle that nearly broke as it hit the marble counter a little too hard.
“Amor?” she called, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. You were a mess, curled up in a ball in the middle of the king-sized bed.
“Please make it stop,” you begged, words muffled into the pillow you were hugging, wishing it was your girlfriend. Alexia shuffled into the room with tears brimming in her eyes, her heart shattering as she watched you become a shell of yourself.
The pain was something you learned to deal with yourself. Years and years of self-loathing from bouts of depression and suicide made you numb to love. Your parents were to blame, favoring your sister who was always smarter, better, stronger, and more deserving of their love and attention. Football was your one distraction and injury took that away from you.
The years of hiding behind a ball and suppressing all those feelings came crashing down when your ACL tore. The feelings were overwhelming, thoughts of self-destruction felt like an old friend.
You were better at football than she was. But that was not good enough for them. She had to be first. Not you.
You thought that if you could just be better at something than she was, they’d love you.
Turns out, they resented you for it.
“How dare you be better than her?”
“How dare you take her spot on the team?”
“You don’t deserve it.”
They got one thing right though. You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve their harsh words. You didn’t deserve their criticism. You didn’t deserve their wishes that you weren’t a burden.
Burden. That’s what you feel like now. On your girlfriend who had to deal with your breakdowns and tantrums.
She was too good for you. If she saw how broken you were, or how much of a liar you were, she’d leave. Just like they did.
“Amor, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Alexia cooed, curling up beside you with her arms around you.
“Could you hold me without any talking?” you asked, a voice so soft Alexia almost missed your request.
“Of course, I can,” she said, pulling you into her arms.
They were warm. Safe. Strong. Determined to take your pain away.
She spoke after a while, certain you had fallen asleep as your choked sobs simmered down.
“I don't care if you've changed, but you are so much more than football. You are so beautiful, kind, loving, and most importantly, mine. Amor, you are so special to me and I hope we can help you see that.”
“You deserve someone who isn’t such a mess, Alexia,” you mumble; she’s a little startled that you’re awake but keeps her cool to not agitate you.
“Everyone’s a little messy, cariño. That’s what makes us people who learn how to love.”
#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#woso x reader#fc barca femeni#woso community#woso soccer#woso fanfics#woso#woso imagine#espwnt#woso blurbs
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a bad feeling || arsenal x teen!reader ||
your bad feeling before a game ends up turning into your worst nightmare, but your teammates don't let you mope for too long.
"now that is a starter if i've ever seen one," katie said as she put her arm around your shoulders. you had been nervous all morning, nearly throwing up your breakfast before any of you had gotten on the bus. you were playing against manchester united, which meant going against tooney, but more importantly, mary. you had been with arsenal for a little while now, but you hadn't gotten to really play in any of the games against united yet.
"oh yeah, that backline won't know what hit 'em," alessia joined in. she wasn't sure what you needed at the moment, but katie's jokes had been making you smile so far. they wanted you to be relaxed and comfortable. there was a lot riding on this game, but the last thing any of them wanted was to put too much pressure on your shoulders. alessia wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she had done something to cause you to crumble. "you okay?"
"yeah, i'll be fine," you reassured her. a part of you felt like you'd be anything but fine. you weren't sure why, but you felt like something bad was going to happen. there had been something off all day, but you couldn't figure out what it was, so you tried your hardest to ignore it.
on the pitch, things were working fine until they weren't. manchester's girls were being a bit rough with you, which alessia and katie definitely noticed. at the half, katie had absolutely gone off ranting about them, but alessia had distracted you during katie's rant. you were a bit more winded than you normally would have been, but you didn't let the other team's aggression deter you.
"you go out there and score some goals," katie said as she pulled you in for a hug. you nodded against her before she kissed the top of your head and let you go. alessia pulled you into a similar embrace, something that she had noticed leah do during every game that you got to play in. leah's injury was hard on you, but everybody had picked up the slack to make sure that you were taken care of.
you started the second half in good spirits. you managed to get an easy break early on, slipping past their defense with ease. you kept your head forward like you'd always been taught to. the defense wasn't nearly as far behind as you had expected, and when you went to take your shot, one of them came in for a tackle. it wasn't clean, but she hadn't expected to connect as well as she had. your movement mixed with hers had you crumpling to the ground clutching your knee.
"(y/n)?" mary was the first person at your side. she pulled your head into her lap as she rubbed your back. ella was quick to join alessia and katie, as well as a few of your other arsenal teammates.
"i want leah," you whimpered. alessia frowned as she held onto your hand. they all crowded around you until the medics came with a stretcher to take you away. a few quick scans had confirmed your worst nightmare, an acl tear. it was worse than that, but all you had heard was that part. everything else out of the trainer's mouth had been garbled like your head was stuck in a fish bowl.
the rest of the day felt like a blur. you were whisked away to a hospital, several people from both teams and your national team came to visit you. it wasn't until you were back in london at your parents' place that you finally saw the one person you had been begging and pleading for all weekend, leah. she hadn't come alone, having heard how you had been moping since you left the trainer's room in manchester.
"hey," leah greeted you. she was speaking softly, just like everybody had since you got hurt. you were laying up in your bed, confined to your room to rest for a few days. technically, you could move around your house, but you didn't see the point in getting out of bed until you could play again.
"is it okay if i come in?" viv asked from your doorway. you perked up a little, not having seen her for what felt like forever. beth was with her, the two of them rarely separated off of the field. you nodded and scooted over so that there was more room for all of your teammates to come in.
"what are you guys doing here?" you asked. leah took the spot right next to you, the two of you having developed a special bond from the start. you had flocked to leah immediately, but back then, you had just been in pure awe of her. now, she was like your absolute best friend on the team and had stopped treating you like a baby all the time. that wasn't to say she wasn't fiercely overprotective of you like you were her sister.
"we wanted to check on you. i heard you've been having a hard time since the game," beth answered. you shrugged it off, despite knowing that she was telling the truth. you had been having an incredibly hard time dealing with your injury and the reality of what it meant. you were so young, and this was the kind of thing that ruined careers.
"more importantly, we wanted to remind you that this setback is temporary. you'll rest and rehab it, and take care of yourself so that it doesn't happen again, not for a long time at least. you'll bounce back from this because you're young and smart enough to take good care of yourself. i believe in you, we all do," leah said. "isn't that right?"
"yeah, i'll get better," you mumbled. leah nudged you, trying to get you to say it again louder. "i'll get better, and i'll stay better."
"that's right," leah said triumphantly.
"how long are you guys staying?" you asked. you were a bit distracted from your injury, and hopeful that your friends would stay for a bit. since joining arsenal, you hadn't really had much time for friends your own age. they didn't understand the strictness of your schedule and training regiment. it was just easier to hang out with your teammates, even if the age gap meant that you had a lot of differences in interests.
"well, i happen to have a clear night. in fact, i believe that mary and tooney are coming down for a little get-together. if you've got all your school work done, i am sure that your mum wouldn't mind if you stayed over," leah suggested.
"viv and i might even stop by for a bit before her bedtime," beth said. you had finished nearly your entire week's worth of work with an open schedule, which meant you were free to go to leah's for the night. that was something that your mother definitely knew, and had most likely even arranged to get you to come out of your room.
"do you mean it?" you asked leah. she nodded and helped you pack a bag to spend the night. it had been a long time since you'd gotten to attend a team sleepover, and even though you couldn't play and train with everybody else, you were glad that they still thought to include you. you hadn't admitted it to anybody else, but your big fear was that the team would shut you out because you were injured.
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To Care For A Woman
Chapter 1
Simon Riley x Reader
Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...
Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception I'm sorry it's unedited...
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Simon's POV
A fear tactic. That's what Johnny called it. The infamous Ghost. The Reaper of The Night. The man, myth, and legend that was coming to act as a vengeful reaper and mercilessly take the lives of those who got in his way.
His reputation preceded him. A reputation he never intended to have. The point was never to be something for others to fear. A Ghost couldn't be seen. A Ghost couldn't be touched. Most importantly, a Ghost couldn't be hurt. Simon was safe if he was dead.
Until he wasn't.
You were just some stupid rooky who joined the army so they'd pay for your college tuition. You had the same sob story most people did. No money, no marital prospects, and not enough education to obtain a job that would sustain you in a struggling economy. No one was coming to save you, so you made a decision to save yourself.
"Mom and Dad were barely making things work financially, I couldn't be a burden anymore," you explained once as you sat next to Soap in the helicopter, your head barely reaching the shoulders of the men and women you were seated around.
It made Ghost's stomach drop, no, Simon's stomach. You were fragile and had no business having that battle rifle in your small, soft hands. People like you were supposed to have options. At least Simon believed so.
How was he supposed to give you orders as if he didn't know you had a higher chance of not making it back? He just wanted to leave you on base, wrapped up in bubble wrap for good measure. When he looked into your eyes there was still a softness there, a feminine light that hadn't been beaten out of you just yet. The idea of seeing it vanish terrified him. It made his chest ache.
You didn't need to know that however, and as far as anyone knew, Lieutenant Ghost despised you. He told you to secure the landing zone for when they got back or left you behind to keep watch on every mission possible. You were convinced the large, masked man saw you as a disgrace to the 141 and was embarrassed to have such a small fry on his team. At least that was the gossip you picked up here and there. He didn't want you to see any action, that much was clear.
"You're up late."
Simon glanced in your direction as he stirred the honey in his tea, his grip on the chipped mug, the porcelain stained on the inside from many years of holding hot coffee, tightening ever so slightly. You were seated in one of the kitchen chairs, legs folded in on yourself as you sipped at your own steaming mug.
He didn't respond and went about dumping his tea bag in the wastebasket. He needed to not look at you in your soft leggings that hugged your figure with that baggy 141 sweatshirt that despite being a size small was still too big for you. You'd be swallowed whole in his clothes, and that was a sight that a very primal part of his brain wanted to see.
There was something about you being so delicate that made him want to press his lips against the curve of your jaw and tell Price to go to hell for not assigning you more office work instead of sending you out with his men.
He had to keep his mind in his upstairs brain, however, lest he risk your life and others in the field. He wouldn't be responsible for you getting hurt.
"I'm sorry," you said all of a sudden.
"What for?" he didn't look up from his mug as he took a sip.
"For being...being a liability that you have to plan for."
He let out a tired sigh. "What happened to going to college?" he disregarded your apology.
"What?"
"Heard you tell Soap you joined the army so you could get into college, that clearly never happened."
You coughed awkwardly. "I got a little lost along the way." You didn't know what to study. Didn't know where to apply. Didn't know what you really wanted out of it other than a career that would make you money. "The 141 offered me a good salary, no need to waste tax dollars on a degree I wouldn't even know what to do with."
You shouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. You should have someone taking care of all of that so you could read books, go on walks, and grow a garden. You didn't seem like the type who worked because they wanted to, you did it because you had to.
The part of Simon that had watched his mother go to work grueling hours at the local diner just to support his father's addictions hated that. The part of him that had watched her slowly lose her feminine glow and replace it with withered steel to accommodate the survival of herself and her boys stung. He wasn't supposed to feel this hurt. He was supposed to be a Ghost. But the overwhelming urge to care for you was making that difficult.
He set his tea down on the counter and let out a huff as he approached you. Your hair was wet, and you had clearly just come from the shower. He suspected you showered later to avoid the others, specifically the men.
And boy did that thought have him grinding his teeth. If you were his woman, you'd be using his own private quarters to clean up. No prying eyes, not even his own.
"What would you have done if none of that was of any concern?" he asked, and you let out a soft little laugh.
"You'd have me anywhere but here, huh?" you said with a raised brow.
Simon tilted his masked face downward to pin you with a stare that made you swallow thickly, brown eyes boring into your own.
He'd have you dolled up in his cabin back home doing whatever the hell you pleased, painting pretty pictures, baking sweet bread, he bet you would like riding horses too.
"I'd have you safe, y/n."
He didn't say another word to you as he turned around, picked up his mug, and left you to watch him go with wide eyes.
~
He didn't want to take you on the mission, but Price said they needed someone small enough to sneak in through the warehouse's ventilation system and gather intel.
Price told him not to worry, and that you were a clever girl. That didn't ease his mind in the slightest. He had the scope of his sniper trained on the building, watching for any alarming movement.
"Confirmed intel on the location of the arms dealer and their client, ready to regroup, L.T.?" you whispered into your radio.
"Affirmative, meet us at evac," he replied, motioning for Soap to follow him. The other soldiers under his command had been circling the warehouse from a distance, looking for any sign of trouble. He had just about allowed his shoulders to relax when the alarms started.
Ghost whipped his head around as a slew of curses left Soap's lips. "What'd the little lass do now?" he muttered, but Ghost didn't hear him, having already taken off towards the warehouse.
He was already planning how he was going to chew you out for not being careful enough when he saw trucks approaching in the distance. It wasn't you that set the alarms off, it was some rag-tag terrorist group on their way to rob the warehouse. And you were going to be right in the middle of it.
"L/N! What's your status?" he demanded over the radio. His men were already being pulled into the firefight. It wasn't until he was nearing the warehouse that he finally had eyes on you, your small form crouched behind a stack of crates.
"L/N, Move!" he shouted, providing you with enough cover to make a run for the evac. He watched as you took off, running as fast as your small legs could carry you. He was so distracted with you that the sting of the bullet in his shoulder came as a shock.
Seconds later he was knocked to the ground, by a kick to the back of his leg, and a strained grunt left his chest. His head snapped up as his attacker stood above him, prepared to finish him off with a bullet between his eyes.
But then he stopped, and Ghost's eyes narrowed at the sound of running feet slamming against the ground. He felt his heart sink watching you throw yourself at his attacker, knife in hand.
No. It wasn’t going to work. He was bigger than you, and you didn't have a clue what you were doing. You were going to die for him. Because of him. He'd never hated himself more.
He had to watch the man rip the knife from your hand and drive it into your knee, his anger boiling over as his attacker pushed you away as if you were as threatening as a sunflower stalk.
You fell to the ground in a sobbing heap, and that sound alone had Simon reaching for the man's sidearm despite the pain in his shoulder. There was a bullet in his throat before he even noticed that the Lieutenant was no longer lying flat on his back.
"L.T.? Where are you? Evac is here?" Soap's voice chimed over the radio, but Ghost ignored him as he hefted your small form into his arms.
"Shh shh, hold on f' me now. Done so good so far. Gotta finish the mission," he murmured as he squeezed you against his chest. "M' not leavin' you here," he promised, trudging towards the evac site.
"L.T.?" Soap tried once again, but Ghost didn't answer. It was too much to think, too much to hit the button on his radio as he tried to hold you in a manner that wouldn't make you cry out in pain.
"Almost there, love."
AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! Next chapter will be in Reader's POV!
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader
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Basketball superstar!Satoru x popular influencer!reader who is always on courtside gf duties whenever it's game season. You often go viral on social media for your antics— like proudly sporting a smaller version of your boyfriend's jersey, wearing cutesy cheerleader outfits, swearing at the referees whenever your boyfriend is hit with a foul, and jumping into his arms the moment his team is declared the victors. You were his number one fan, after all.
Fortunately, Satoru is way into PDA that you often get away with your antics, which he thinks are just so cute. His teammates are used to him running up to you instead of the trophies they've won. You don't mind that he kisses you while he's all sweaty— you relish his warmth even more since he's worked so hard.
At times when you're busy with your own gigs to attend his game, you send a care package his way along with other nutritional pre-game goodies for his team, too. They thank you with a cute and clumsy TikTok video on their official account, showing off their healthy snacks while still in their jumpsuits. Satoru takes the centre stage and is inevitably teased by everyone else in the locker room.
When game season is over and the teams get a break from training, Satoru joins you in your gigs and endorsement shoots, happily playing the role of your (real) stage boyfriend. He's mostly a glorified PA but everyone else in the set still gets so starstruck by his mere presence. He allows photos and selfies but only at a respectful distance, but he is handsy once you step into his space.
When you're both at home in bed in your pyjamas and Korean face masks, he'd show you his phone and how his socials were flooded with thousands of tags to photos and Pop Base videos of the two of you. You'd tease him about giving the people something else to talk about, but he'd reply in kind and enumerate in detail all the crazy things and trouble you two could get into— if you didn't care about your careers, that is.
You and Satoru are one of the most popular couples on social media at the moment, but you don't let your audience impact the way you two handle things. More importantly, you still keep a fair amount of your relationship to yourselves, so not everything your followers see online is the whole of it.
Satoru proposes to you on a quiet fall afternoon, and you fight the urge to post your engagement as soon as you realised what was happening. There would be so much speculation about your marriage and a lot of unsolicited comments from both family and followers alike, so you say yes in the same quiet way, savouring your first few sacred moments as a newly engaged couple before eventually texting your parents and siblings with a disclaimer— not to tell a single soul.
Your wedding photos go viral, and you laughed at how insane your Instagram comments went before muting your notifications. Satoru is drawing a lopsided heart in the sand, the bright smile on his face disappearing just as quickly as the waters washed away his artwork. Your honeymoon is just as quiet as your wedding, and while you thought you could have made a quick buck out of the whole ordeal, you really wouldn't have had it any other way— just you and him and all the precious people in your lives.
When Satoru returned to the game from your extended honeymoon, the media was nothing but ecstatic to see him and hear about your first few moments as newlyweds. He makes the rookie mistake of excitedly telling everyone that you were expecting, thus the influx of baby items from new sponsors. You forgive him for that, thankful for all the love and support you've received from both your followers so far.
You no longer swear at the refereees nor do you jump into basketball superstar Satoru's arms whenever his team wins a game. Instead, he carries your son on his shoulders, their matching jerseys a sight to behold for all watching his every move. Your son clings to his father as confetti rains over the court and the crowd, and you can't help but think how you've been dethroned as Gojo Satoru's number one fan. Wife sounds just as good, though.
#songsofadelaidewrites💛#mari's prompts 🎠#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk au#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x yn#gojo satoru x you#boyfriend gojo#basketball boyfriend gojo!!#starry divider by @/cafekitsune
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If your still taking requests could u pls do “if you were taken by an unsub” criminal minds imagin? Or smth along those lines, if not that’s fine tho
~ ☘️
(BAU Headcanons) If you were taken by an Unsub
A/N: Um, of course you can?! Thanks for sending this one in angel 😇 I'm only sorry it's taken me this long to answer this. Hope you like it!
Warnings: Usual Criminal Minds references to criminals, murder, violence etc. Mentions of mental health. (Let me know if I missed any)
Aaron Hotchner
If you were taken? This man would not rest until you were back and safe with him - and not just because of what happened to Haley (though it doesn’t help).
He would bark orders at everyone in a cold and blunt manner that tells them he is not in the mood to be messed with.
They will do as they are told and they will do it now.
This poor man would be fighting not to let his fear show but he'd be seen clenching his fists over and over and taking long deep breaths in front of the mirror in the bathroom in an attempt to ground himself and get his head on straight.
He's no good to you if he lets himself fall apart. His team - and more importantly, you - are counting on him.
You know he’s blaming himself and you’re both going to need therapy once this whole experience is over with.
He would go into his hyper-rational mode, focusing on making plans and ignoring anything that isn’t getting you back safe and sound - which means no sleep. None. He’s running on fumes and caffeine - even after you’re found.
It would take days for him to feel secure enough to close his eyes and be able to trust you’ll still be there when he opens them again.
Also you best believe he is breaking out his old law text books and ensuring this UnSub goes down for a lonnnnnng time… if they even make it to trial that is. This man is a trained sniper and knows other trained snipers… just saying…
David Rossi
He may like to remind you all of his passionate Italian nature from time to time but it’s impossible to miss when he hears what’s happened to you. He’s an emotional mess, staggering between horror and rage to a frighteningly cold determination that is rare for the eldest team member.
He’d try to act in control, pulling rank on everyone - including Hotch, which obviously doesn’t work.
“No offence, Aaron, but I was chasing down Unsubs when you were still in diapers. I know what I’m doing.”
However, they know him well enough to see that despite having years of experience under his belt, Rossi is terrified of making some kind of mistake.
Once they do find you, he’d be one of the first through the door, too concerned with checking you’re ok to worry about anything else.
He’d also be sure to pay for the best medical care money could buy, if you needed it following the ordeal.
He also knows people and has no problem paying for you to see a counsellor of some sort if the situation required it. He just wants to take care of you now that you’re back in his arms again.
Derek Morgan
This man is like a whole military unit in himself at the best of times, but he’s a whole other level of lethal when it comes to protecting the ones he loves. You do NOT want to be on the wrong side of Morgan, and that’s exactly where the Unsub who took you would sit.
There isn’t a door he wouldn’t be willing to kick down to get you - and everybody knows better than to say a word about it. (Hotch is already mentally filling out all the paperwork he’s going to need once this rescue is done, but he doesn’t exactly mind, given the situation).
Also, Morgan may have trained you himself, drilling you in self-defence and marksmanship so you’d known how to protect yourself out there in the field, but none of that matters now. You may have the Unsub at your mercy already, or you may be at theirs, but he doesn’t know and that’s what’s killing him: the not knowing.
It’s why Penelope is basically glued to his side the whole entire time, telling him everything she finds out the very second she finds it.
“We’ll find them sugar, I promise. They’re just as tough and strong as you are, so don’t give up on them, ok?”
He’d be leading the pack once you are found though, tearing through anyone and anything that stood in his way. All he cares about is seeing you with his own eyes and getting you as far away from danger as possible.
“I’m so sorry, baby. It’s my job to keep you safe and I failed you.”
He’d be beating himself up for weeks after and it would take an entire team intervention to get him to let you go back out into the field again without him being glued to your side. After all, he’s not making the same mistake twice. Any Unsub wants that wants to get close to you will have to get past him first.
Emily Prentiss
This woman is a super spy and a lethal weapon on an average day but if you were taken? Then she would be the most dangerous woman in the entire United States.
She knows people in every agency and on every continent so you best believe she will be calling in favours left, right and centre. (Even Rossi is terrified by how quickly she was able to get the Pentagon on the phone…)
She would also be action-focused, needing to do something rather than sitting around wasting time. Every minute spent talking was one more minute the Unsub had to hurt you - and that thought makes her feel physically sick.
This would end up causing her to explode, taking it out on whichever unfortunate soul is closest. Like, you know she would definitely have to be reminded by Hotch that they actually need the local law enforcement to work with them, if they want to get you back alive, after she is seen screaming at an unfortunate officer for their ‘utter stupidity’.
Thankfully, she gets to turn that rage on the Unsub after they find you. I mean, let’s be real. It would take Morgan physically holding her back to stop her from beating their face in.
This frustration would ultimately then be transferred to you, once she knows you’re safe.
You almost can quote her ‘You almost died’ speech by this point, but you know it makes you both feel better to hear it so you let her rant and rant until she’s calm enough to crawl into your arms and squeeze you close.
“I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”
You’re also pretty sure she now has people following you at all times, watching over you when she can’t, so that this never happens again.
JJ
JJ is every bit as lethal as Emily is when those she loves are at risk. If anything, she’s more terrifying because she’ll hide that murderous rage behind a ‘butter-wouldn’t-melt’ smile before deciding to strike.
However, it would take everything in her not to just charge in and go on the offensive. After all, she was willing to run into a bank full of armed robbers after Will.
It would probably end up with the team having to physically holding her back to stop her - usually accompanied by a well meaning pep talk about how she needs to get her head on straight if she actually wants to help get you back.
You know this woman would follow you everywhere afterwards, never letting you out of her sight. In fact, she hits ‘super Mom mode’ where she is constantly fussing over you and seems to have the world in her go-bag.
You need tissues, pain-killers, chocolate: she got it.
“Hey, it’s ok. You know I’ve got your back, right? I won’t let anything else happen to you. You’re safe now.”
She would also call you out on all your BS, if you tried to downplay what happened to you or if you were still affected.
One twitch of her eyebrow is all it takes for her to have you pinned to your chair and spilling your guts about your emotions. You know better than to make her ask twice. After all, she may be the first to downplay it when she’s hurting but when it comes to her team and her family, she’d do anything to take care of you. If that’s driving your ass to therapy or just holding you, she’ll do it without complaint.
Penelope Garcia
Would immediately panic as soon as she hears what’s happened to you. Like, we’re talking SO much panic.
Poor girl is spiralling and needs the team to help ground her so she can get back to the lair and do her thing. It would probably be down to Morgan or like JJ to get her to actually remember to breathe and not make herself pass out.
But once she’s up and running? Well, she’d be all over the Unsub like a bad rash. Every teeny tiny detail of their life is suddenly unearthed and splashed on the
board for everyone to see. (No one dares ask how she found certain items, but knowing her history with the dark web it’s probably for the best).
Also, she would be begging for constant updates once the team is out in the field. Any other day, it would drive the team insane to have a constant running Penelope monologue in their ears, but they’re surprisingly tolerant in this case.
“Guys, do you see them? Are they ok? What’s going on? I need to know people! I have no eyes here!”
Would be all over you once you’re safe and insists on installing tracking software on everything. She wants a digital link to you, 24/7 so that this NEVER happens again. It’s simultaneously flattering and slightly terrifying how much power this angel has at the end of her glittery, manicured fingers.
Dr Spencer Reid
Depending on which season-Reid you’re with when you’re taken, you would have a distraught super genius who makes it his life’s mission to get you back. Or, you’d have a prison-hardened super genius with a slightly grey-er view of the world on a mission to find you.
Either way, there’s probably no one you’d want more to be in charge of locating and rescuing you.
Like Hotch, I feel he would become obsessed with nothing other than finding you. He wouldn’t eat. He wouldn’t sleep. Hell, no one on the team has even seen him leave the briefing room long enough to go pee, let alone take a break. This results in the team all taking it in turns to be parental figures and coax (and eventually threaten) him into pausing long enough to down a glass of water and eat some snack bar.
Between Morgan’s physical threats, JJ’s guilt-trips, and Hotch threatening to bench him from this case, they’d eventually succeed.
“You guys don’t get it. They need me. I have to figure this out - they’re counting on me. I can’t fail them. I won’t. So either help me or get out of here and let me think.”
We all know he would probably harass any medical professionals charged with caring for you, once you’re back. He doesn’t trust them - especially when it comes to your welfare.
He’d also confine you to the couch and force you to rest, queueing up endless re-runs of Doctor Who and whatever shows you find most comforting to have playing in the background. It’s selfishly what he needs too, being able to sit and hold you long enough to quell any fears he may have about you and your wellbeing. You’re here and you’re real and you’re safe.
Masterlist
#ithebookhoarder#masterlist#thesilentmage#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch imagine#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotch x you#david rossi x reader#david rossi#David Rossi x you#derek morgan x reader#derek morgan#derek morgan x you#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x you#jj x reader#jennifer jareau x reader#Jennifer jareau x you#penelope garcia x reader#penelope garcia#Penelope Garcia x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#Spencer Reid x you
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Gearing Up & Catching On
Summary: Getting Ready for a mission, you realize someone is watching.
T/W: female-coded reader, sexual themes, staring w/o consent, def not proofread.
Mission prep always came with a certain level of ‘hurry up’ that anyone outside the task force would understand easily. New variables, information, and deadlines always made traditional planning quite impossible. Therefore it made sense why most of the men just always walked around like they were moments away from being right in the middle of a week-long fire-fight. But, there were always times when things needed to be prepped. Be it a different tac vest or something as simple as a change of pants just because someone liked a different pair better and there was enough time to concern themselves with it.
In those few and far-between moments, there wasn’t ever a place to slip away and just take care of your business. Essentially, due to the very irritating fact that up until your arrival, Task Force 141 never had to think about a woman being integrated into more than just a few hours' worth of wartime cooperation. Everything from sleeping arrangements to bathrooms, to who got to sit in the front seat changed when you were adopted into the squad. It made the situation of changing clothes a little bit… different for one man specifically.
It had been made clear when you joined the task force that there was not to be a single misstep in terms of conduct when it came to you, in the specific topic of you being different from the rest of them. No crass remarks, no flirting, no staring or groping. Typically this kind of thing went… a little unspoken about. Since most of the men didn’t mind hearing that sort of thing about each other here and there. Captain Price set out to make it very understood that you weren’t to be a topic of discussion for anything that wasn’t professional simply because he believed they owed you some damn respect.
Unsurprisingly, Soap was the primary concern for a while. The Sergeant was just too fucking flirty and friendly for his own good, and it was often suspected that if someone didn’t stop him from saying something wildly inappropriate he’d end up dead inside of HQ at your hands for crossing the wrong line too far. Captain Price didn’t expect everyone to follow his orders to perfection. At least… follow his orders well enough that no one noticed how Lieutenant Simon Riley’s eyes lingered in all the wrong places at the most opportune times.
Typically you didn’t have the slightest problem changing in front of any of the team as long as you didn’t have to get totally naked. And most of the time, that wasn’t a problem. Changing from one outfit to another was just a part of daily life while on an extended mission or back at HQ; Therefore when you stripped down from your civvies to prepare to fly out, you didn’t even concern yourself with looking around the room at the rest of the team all standing within viewing angle of you in nothing more than a pair of underwear and a bra. Sitting down on the bench to put your socks on before having to go through the whole ordeal of getting pants on, you began talking yourself into the fact. Not that the pants didn’t fit… but after being in shorts or sweatpants for almost a week, the idea of pouring yourself into a stiff pair of tac pants sounded downright revolting.
Just as you put the first sock on and pulled it up, you heard the familiar sound of a towel snapping followed by a sharp curse from Gaz and an evil sort of chuckle from Soap. The instinct to look up took over and you turned in the direction of the commotion just long enough to see Gaz and Soap… But more importantly, your Lieutenant. Standing almost like a dark shadow with his shoulder leaning against the wall and his dark eyes highlighted by the gun grease smeared all over the top half of his face.
The angle at which you sat gave you just a spare second to realize that Ghost was staring right at you before snapping your eyes back to the floor. Such a small moment, yet it was very obvious by the way he was standing that he’d been there for a good while. Long enough to get comfortable cross his arms over his chest and rest the toe of one boot against the floor to take weight off of one leg. Thoughts scrambled through your mind at all of the possible reasons why the Lieutenant would’ve been doing that in the first place but one seemed even more likely than the next.
Surely he had a professional reason, right? Maybe it was to do with the clothes you were choosing to wear and was thinking that there would be a better option for the mission or climate. Even something smaller like him having a genuine or innocent curiosity about why you liked putting on your socks before your pants. Either way, you caught him looking directly at you while you sat there in your bra and underwear. A good part of you shivered with the embarrassment of it, while the other half tried not to think about if Ghost was looking for less than professional reasons. Because, no matter how much you wanted to tell yourself that your Lieutenant wasn’t attractive… you knew it was a huge lie. In the meantime, you did your best to hide the sudden awareness of being watched and went about getting your lower half dressed so that your asscheeks weren’t out long enough for Ghost to get an even longer look.
With your shirt halfway over your head, the sound of boots on the floor stopping right behind you made your breath disappear and your heart rate spike to double it’s typical resting rate. Made even worse with your eyes covered by your black shirt, you could only hope that it was Soap coming to swat you with a towel instead of what your gut was screaming.
“You always put your socks on first?” Ghost’s thick accent and low rasp made chills run down your back. He was rightbehind you. The question was innocent enough, but that wasn’t enough to make you feel any better. Matter of fact, you didn’t even bother pulling your shirt down the rest of the way before answering his question.
“Yeah, makes tucking my pants in easier.” A fact nonetheless, but you couldn’t help feeling a bit childish explaining your habits from boot camp that never went away.
Ghost’s gruff sound of acceptance from his throat gave you the momentary feeling that he’d let you go without any more feelings of pre-mission mortification. Suddenly you feel your shirt being pulled down in the back, down over your bra band down to the waistline of your pants. Ghost, apparently being helpful while simultaneously making your heart beat so hard against your chest that you feared it might bruise against your ribs.
“Next time, do me a favor…”
“What’s that Lieutenant?” Your question comes out far more shy and submissive than you normally would sound answering someone.
“Don’t sit down,” His voice nearly drops to a rumbling snarl of a sound, bent right at your ear so it vibrates your brain in your skull.
“It’d make for a stunnin’ show.”
Comments and Reblogs are Always Helpful <3
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod#cod mwii#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#velvetures writes#velvetures
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hiii !! could i request something like spencer gets hurt on a case and he tries to act like he's all good in front of the team but then gets home to his gf and just lets her baby him ?? 🙏 thank u <3
༉‧´ˎ˗ pairing; spencer reid x girlfriend!reader
༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.7k
cm masterlist ; main masterlist ; request guidelines ; inbox
Spencer should have thought this out more— chasing after an unsub while Derek, the brawn of the two, was still unbuckling his seat belt. Through his one-track mind, he forgot to take into account the weather conditions, and how icy the roads could be this time of year.
Derek rushed to catch up to Spencer, accidentally knocking into him in the process, causing him to lose balance and trip, falling right on his face, along with hearing something, he still doesn’t quite know what, crack. He winced at the pain but urged Derek to keep moving and let him get up on his own.
He played it off well enough back at the scene, but as soon as the team closed the case, he dialed you to pick him up from work. Luckily, the unsub they were after hunted near Virginia, and they didn’t have to travel very far. The only thing on his mind the rest of the day was how he would get to see you, his girlfriend, at the end of it.
Unlike how he was untruthful with the team about his little accident, as soon as he got in the passenger seat of your car, and once you pointed out his bruised nose, he started rambling to you about his day, more importantly about his fall and how tough it was to walk it off, along with how bad his nose hurt.
You stuck your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout and rubbed at his shoulder, assuring him you would take care of him and that he could stay over at your place tonight so you could cuddle the day off. He did hesitate slightly, but you quickly offered him a ride to work again in the morning, and without any further questioning, he agreed and you drove off.
…
“Do you think you pulled something, Spence?” You ask, looking up as you untie his converse for him. He does find it a little extra for you to be doing all this just because he got hurt a bit at work but he isn’t complaining. He won’t outwardly admit to it, but he enjoys it when you get like this, babying him and going full caretaker mode, not that he can’t take care of himself of course, just sometimes it’s nice.
“M’not sure,” he has an unsure look on his face, looking down at you, his eyes slightly watery. It feels nice to be the one being taken care of for a change.
You place his shoes on the rack in the closet, standing back up at your full height and guiding him down the hall and to your room. You wish he didn’t have to walk on his hurt leg, but there’s nothing you can do about that. In the past, you will admit to having tried to pick Spencer up, but that just ended poorly for the both of you. Thankfully, his plush mattress was there to cushion his fall. You two just giggled it off, it was a stupid idea in the first place.
Reaching the bedroom, you push the door open and let him get situated under your covers, watching adoringly as your boyfriend snuggles up to your pillow, the main one you always sleep on, the one that smells of your shampoo.
You rush to the kitchen to get something for his nose, quickly coming back and hopping into bed next to him, handing him a make shift ice pack. Pulling him close, you rub slow, soothing circles over his back. He nuzzles his head into your chest, pressing against the warm cozy fabric of your sweater, careful not to put too much pressure on his nose.
“How are you feeling? Do you need me to get you anything for your leg as well?” you speak softly, moving your hand up to rake it through his hair.
“No, I think I just need to rest,” he replies drowsily, already drifting off from the feeling of calm washing over him.
“That’s fine,” you nod to no one but yourself, it’s not like he can see you anyways with his head buried in your sweater. “Just make sure to tell me if you do think of anything.”
With that, you press a chaste kiss to his forehead before letting yourself relax as well, wrapping your arm fully around his back and letting him cling to you like the exhausted koala bear he seems to be.
#reidsdaisies#reidsdaisies spencer <3#spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer drabbles#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x gn!reader#criminal minds#spencer reid criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic
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dancing with the devil - alexia putellas x reader
pairing: alexia x singer!reader
warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol
Meeting Alexia hadn't been an accident. If anything, meeting anyone, for you, was an accident, because more often than not, people were screaming into your face, demanding pictures and autographs and spinning theories about your private life that you were pretty sure could be considered conspiracies.
You hadn't intended, however, to meet Alexia. And she hadn't intended to meet you. The first time you'd seen the Catalonian woman had been on Keira's instagram. Your lifelong best friend and childhood neighbor was the only reason you were interested in women's football - or sports in general. You'd never shared your father's passion, or joined the local team like your brother had. If it wasn't for Keira, you would have no ties to the sport whatsoever, and even this way, you grew annoyed every time the strawberry blonde and her insufferably confident girlfriend tried to explain the offside rules to you.
Still, you followed Keira's life everywhere she went, and although you hadn't been happy with her move to Barcelona, you had forgiven her the minute you'd spotted the Catalonian woman on the sidelines.
Keira had warned you, but really, she should've warned Alexia. You enjoyed the lifestyle that came with being a singer, relished in parties and one-night-stands and rebounds that Keira doomed forbidden. More often than not, she'd threatened to hang up on your FaceTime call when you'd phoned her from London to tell her about your latest hookup. But Keira, as different as the two of you were, was still your best friend, and so she listened to every word you said, or sung, and was your number one supporter. This wasn't missed by her new teammates, who started following your socials the second Keira had first shared the promo picture of your new album. That's when Alexia had followed you. Keira should've warned her then, but a few years down the line, you were glad she hadn't. Because what was supposed to be a bed for you to spend a night in when you next visited Keira and Lucy in Barcelona blossomed into your second home, and the woman who was supposed to be yet another hookup blossomed into your girlfriend.
You had spent the past year somewhere between London, New York and Barcelona, desperate to spend time with Alexia, Leah and your producers all at the same time. The fans had quickly taken notice of your and Alexia's relationship, although, to be honest, not one of you had tried to hide anything. Alexia was easy, Alexia was simple, and most importantly, Alexia was safe. She was the one to ground you whenever you struggled with your mental health, whenever you were overwhelmed with pressure, anxiety, or any emotion alike.
But a few months ago, with Alexia's return to the pitch, the World Cup and the crippling pressure to perform, at all time, that grasped your every cell, things had taken a turn for the worst.
You were on tour, and had witnessed the public abuse of Alexia and her teammates via FaceTime and instagram, trying your hardest to console the captain as best as you could from so many miles away. It hadn't been an easy task, and with the everlasting rehearsals, concerts and afterparties, you had neglected to take care of yourself.
Drinking was easy when you had the excuse of missing your girlfriend. Using was easy when you had the excuse of just living a little.
Nothing was easy now, as you stood in your girlfriend's flat in Barcelona, the woman halting across from you.
"I'm... home", she breathed, taking in her surroundings. There was no way to hide the bags packed behind you, the way you were still wearing your shoes despite the fact that Alexia had taken so much time to drill the habit of taking them off at the doorstep, the way you seemed to be ready to leave when you had just come home.
"What is going on?", she asked, dropping her bag with a soft thud. Alexia had expected you on the couch, with a mug of tea in your hands, in her sweatpants and fluffy socks, just the way you liked during the colder months. She had expected you to be nuzzled under a blanket, perhaps napping as she knew the jet lag robbed you of energy whenever you took the plane from the States to Spain.
"I'm leaving", you breathed, staring into her face blankly. You tried to remember. Tried to take in every dimple, every freckle, the color of her eyes and the baby hairs that were flying off her hairline. If you could have, you would have taken a picture. You had so many pictures of Alexia in your phone, ranging from ones to her sleeping, from her at training, from her during matches, from her at dates you took her on or standing in the crowd of your concerts. They were never going to be enough - realistically, you knew that. But, realistically, you could never forget Alexia either, no matter how much time you would spend away from her.
Alexia looked confused. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she opened her mouth and closed it again. Her lips looked like she had been picking them, the way she always did when she was stressed, but you wanted to kiss them anyways.
Her feet guided her into the kitchen, walking straight past you as she inspected the apartment. She noticed your favorite mug - one that she had given you for Christmas last year - wasn't where it usually stood next to her favorite mug. Why would you take your mug? You never took your mug when you went away from her, to concerts or recording sessions or award galas.
If she looked any closer, she might've noticed the broken handle of it laying next to the trash can. The dish had been sent to the floor when you had frantically grabbed at it, desperate to leave the flat before your girlfriend came home, and shattered into a million peace. Each one of it was tucked in a plastic bag in your suitcase, but you had forgotten the handle. Alexia didn't notice. Her eyes were back on you.
"What are you talking about?", she asked. In that moment, you were grateful more than ever that Alexia had taken the longer route to grab your favorite sushi from the one restaurant on the other side of the town, the only one you liked, because it had given you enough time to pack everything before she came home. You had almost been out the door - you had put your shoes and coat on already, leaving your favorite scarf, the pink one that she liked to wear, in the hallway.
"I'm so sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you had to tear your eyes away from her, down to your dirty sneakers, when you felt your lips wobble. If you took another glance at Alexia, you would cry.
The handle of your suitcase was cold as you gripped it tightly, bending down to pick up the bag still on the ground.
"I'm so sorry, Alexia."
It wasn't just another statement one said during a breakup without any meaning. You truly meant it. You truly were sorry. In the past months, both yours and Alexia's life had spiraled completely, and although you had been there for her as best as you could have, and lost yourself in the process. The shell of a person that was left of you was nowhere close to what Alexia deserved. You weren't sorry for leaving her, you were sorry for the person you had become, and you were sorry you couldn't be the person for Alexia anymore. You couldn't be her loving girlfriend anymore, the one that loved her endlessly, that made her laugh, that took her worries away with soft kisses and whispered nothings. You couldn't be the person to make her happy anymore. If Alexia took a closer look at you, maybe she would notice your blown pupils, the redrimmed eyes of yours, the bags beneath them. Maybe she would notice the amount of weight you lost, the leftovers of white powder beneath your nose, maybe she would've noticed how broken you were.
You didn't give her the chance, instead tearing your gaze away from her and shuffling towards the door with soft steps, desperate not to ruin her hardwood floor with the crunch of broken glass and splashes of alcohol on your dirty shoes.
You heard Alexia cry behind you, heard her pleas for you to stay, heard her questions, her yells, but you were out of the flat quicker than she could've pulled you back. The air of Barcelona hit you colder than it had before, and a part of you wished you would've worn the pink scarf, knowing it would've kept you warm and smelled of Alexia's perfume.
The black SUV was still parked right next to her driveway the way you had instructed Lois, your driver, to wait. He didn't ask a single question as you slammed the bags into the backseat, following in shortly after, tears streaming down your face. You needed to leave. You were doing the right thing. Alexia would realize it, at one point.
17th December, 2023:
Breaking news: British singer Y/N Y/L/N's summer tour cancelled after drug overdose.
notes:
there goes my first oneshot! please let me know what you think and also if you want a pt2 bc i have so much more in mind about thus story :)
#woso#woso community#woso imagine#woso one shot#woso fanfics#woso x reader#womens football#alexiaputellas#alexia patellas x reader#Barcelona feminino#barca femeni#patri guijarro#ingrid engen#cata coll#barcelona femeni#mariona caldentey#Spotify
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i know i've said it before but i just. what i love so much about the all for the game series is that, as horrifically brutal as it is, it is so packed full of love. these characters love recklessly and deeply.
neil, dragging this disaster team together with desperation, and everyone rallying around him, giving him the best year of his life. they'd all kill and die for each other, but most importantly, they all live for each other. neil has spent his whole life ready to die, but because of his team, he's finally ready to live.
wymack, gruff as he is, giving a second chance at life to all the kids no one else wants. pulling them to their feet and next to them when they're not ready to stand on their own.
andrew, fiercely protecting his pack. being an unyielding and unfalteringly solid weight for them to lean against. demanding that they not give up on themselves. reminding them of who they are.
kevin, making everyone around him a little stronger. confronting his greatest fears because they all make him a little stronger in return. giving neil something to live for. giving jean a new beginning, a chance at a better life.
jean, already having given up on himself, but still trying to protect everyone else, even at the cost of his own safety. taking care of neil in the nest, sending someone to save zane even after being so awfully betrayed, looking out for cody. falling a little bit in love with everyone.
the rest of the foxes, overcoming disagreements an ocean-wide divide between them and coming out the other side loving each other so much they're willing to risk everything to stay together.
the trojans taking in jean despite everything they've heard, teaching him how to be his own person. keeping him alive. showing him all the little joys in life.
just. this is a series full of brutal, devastating torture and trauma, but it's even more full of love :')
#benji talks#all for the game#aftg#the sunshine court#tsc#the foxhole court#neil josten#andrew minyard#kevin day#jean moreau
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Mine || Charles Leclerc #16
pairing: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader
summary: in which seeing people ship you with other drivers fuels the possessiveness in charles.
author notes: can u tell ive been obsessed with culpa mia. also this is my first charles fic (!!!) i made sm tweaks to the original req im so sorry 😭 deff been in a slump recently bc exams but 🙏 no beta read!! this one is still raw asf lol
req: yes/no.
wc: 1.2k words
————
the air as the weekend approached was filled with an adrenaline of its own. drivers loitering on the paddock, a camera shoved up each one of their faces. most of them were making videos for their teams social media, while others were giving interviews. silly banter & playful hazing surrounded the place as the free practices neared. as calm and laid back as the environment was, a new buzz had taken over the virtual world. it seemed like the redbull fans had taken on a new intrest in a the friendship you and max shared, suspecting it could be more than just friends. you’re shocked as you read through the articles, what could possibly make it seem like you were both in any sense more than just friends? max was like the brother you never had, and you, the sister he had always hoped of having. as much as the articles were delusional, you didnt really care that much about them, i mean why would you be afraid when there’s nothing youre scared of being open to the public? okay, maybe not everything. not the time when you were so drunk you demanded every guy on the paddock to quote “settle it with me on the ring”, not the time when you were the culprit behind the hilarious azerbaijan mix up where you stole the champagne on the podium and replaced it with an empty one, and definitely not the fact that you’re already taken, by a person known to all on the paddock.
—
The morning of the race was always an exhilarating one no matter which team youre driving for, or which team you’re rooting for. the passion, the dedication and the confidence in the each and every drivers persona was enough to fill you in the same mindset. though youve always been a redbull fan, which, i mean is definitely not even surprising considering you probably frequent their garage more than some of their own engineers, youve always held an admiration for all the drivers. even you knew how dominant the redbull cars were, so seeing the rest of the drivers still catch up with less resources filled your heart with pride. you look up at the fan’s waiting impatiently for the race to start with a smile on your face. this, will never get boring, you think.
Lord Percival 👑
can’t find you anywhere near here, don’t tell me you’re ditching me today yet again 😔
a chuckle escapes your lips.
You
i wouldve come over but you’re all the way across rn 😭 i’ll definitely be waiting for you after the race tho.
Lord Percival 👑
wow. way to betray me over text babe
You
okay drama queen 😒
Lord Percival 👑
guess you rubbed off on me then mon jolie
You
ill make it up to you, i always do.
just before you press send, you notice the drivers had already left for their respective interviews. whats the point in sending it now anyways, you decide.
—
the dark looms over the sky as celebrations near. the smell of alcohol, weed and god knows fucking what become all too familiar to you at this point. you reach the party alongside max, which considering he’s your best friend was not out of the ordinary for you, but little did you know, it didn’t help the ongoing rumours one bit. the familiar stench of reporters clogs your mind. what the hell were the doing here? and more importantly why were all of them suddenly taking an intrest in your friendship with max? question after question is thrown at you which makes you realise youve had enough of this. you reach for your phone.
You
screw this party
wanna meet up at our usual spot?
Lord Percival 👑
im always down 🙏
—
you could never get sick of this. the same ride, the same atmosphere, the exact same playlist playing over and over again, the curves of the road as you drive through. because you know, at the end of this journey would be the same thing you look forward to, every time. so you get into you car, and drive the same drive to the same spot, once again. at a pillar reading out “623” you stop by the ferrari you know all too well.
there he was. i could never get used to seeing him like this, you think, dressed up in formals but looking formal in no way whatsoever. shriveled hair, buttons unbuttoned, jewellery he knows how to style in just the right way. his crazed eyes of emerald, gazing into you with an intensity that makes your nerves shiver.
“took you long enough to come here” he says, holding you waist. “it was a longer drive than usual” “is that so?” he says, stepping aside you to rest against his ferrari, right beside you. folding his arms, he continues, pulling a cigarette out of his blazer, “want one?” “please, today was a bitch” “i could say the same for me, really” he reaches towards you, lighting your cigarette. “races in monaco are my favourite” he says, looking up at the sky. “yeah, id imagine so. nothing beats home” “yeah, it’s great to be home and all, but theres also something in monaco that beats the thrill any race could give me” he steps forwards, hands placed beside either sides of you.
he pulls the cigarette from your lips, taking in a puff himself. he brings his lips to your ear, “or rather, theres someone in monaco, who beats the thrill any race could give me” he whispers, blowing the smoke away. he flicks the cigarette aside and steps on it, as he lifts your face up, meeting your eyes with his own. “someone who sighs right when i kiss her here,” he goes on to place a chaste kiss on your mole, right on your neck by your jawline. and like a story repeated enough times, you sigh. “someone who arches her back when i pull her hair slightly like this,” he gently tugs your hair, making a makeshift ponytail and like a telltale, you arch your back, the satisfaction of being right sprawled across charles’s face.
“but of all, the one thing that makes me come back to this place again and again, is knowing that—“ he lifts your hips up, making you wrap your legs around him. “you’re mine.” the second he says that, its like all the dots connected in your head. you never thought charles would be jealous of the rumours, given how he was the one who didn’t want your relationship to be public. “charles, are you jealous?” you ask. “so what if i am?” “well, i for one wouldnt want my boyfriend to be feeling like that anymore” “what do you mean?” you pull out your phone from your clutch, “kiss me” “wait what are you doing?” “i said, kiss me” you say, pulling him in by his jaw. “im conf-“ you kiss him, shutting him up. as he closes his eyes he finds himself to not be able to help himself from drowning into you, well atleast until a flash brings him out of his trance. “im going to post it.” “you don’t have to, you know” “but i want to. i want everyone to know how much you mean to me charles. you’re my favourite person and i would hate to see you be jealous”
——
“i can’t believe you actually did it, jolie” “its the least i could do” you say, pecking his cheek. “but ive gotta say, i definitely wouldnt mind seeing this shade of you more often” “you haven’t seen the end of me yet, mon ange”
#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc imagine#formula one#formula 1#f1 2023#ferrari#charles leclerc scenario
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Bulletproof (4/?)
Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.
Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters
Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader
Part Five | Series Masterlist
-
The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.
At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.
From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.
In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.
And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.
Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.
She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away?
And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?
All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.
But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.
As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.
Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.
It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.
But they aren't.
And she does.
-
Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon.
Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.
“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.
Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”
“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”
Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”
As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.
“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”
Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”
Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”
Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”
He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.
Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”
Fucking Steve.
Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”
“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”
Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”
Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.
Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”
Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”
Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”
Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"
Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"
Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.
Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”
“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.
Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”
Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.
Daisy looks between them in confusion.
Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”
“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”
Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.
She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”
Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”
It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”
-
Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”
Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”
Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.
As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something.
In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.
You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.
Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn.
Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”
Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.
You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”
“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.
Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”
She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”
“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”
Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.
With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over.
“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.”
Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.
Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.
Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help.
-
She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.
It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.
Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize.
She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers.
Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.
“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.
Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”
Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.
Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.
Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.
Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”
Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”
Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”
Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”
Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."
“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.
Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.
And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you.
-
Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission.
Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.
When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.
The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.
Her heart swells with relief.
You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.
Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”
Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”
Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”
As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.
Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.
Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”
You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything.
But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.
She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed.
She’s survived worse things.
Of course, she’ll survive you.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff x you#wanda x you#wanda maximoff#unbetad#my writing#my fic#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen#wanda maximoff fanfiction#natasha romanoff#captain america civil war#the avengers#oneshots#steve rogers#daisy johnson#vision#sam wilson
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may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly
pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader
part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)
time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?
word count: 6.6k
tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max
Two Months Later
Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was.
He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.
But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there.
Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you.
Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.
He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time.
So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.
Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.
Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.
The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”
She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”
Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take?
He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him?
Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.
If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you.
But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial.
So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t.
No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club.
Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line.
But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it.
So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.
Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life.
And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.
Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed.
But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.
“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.
The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.
But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment.
Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan.
“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke.
The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”
Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar.
But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders.
Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.
Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.
He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”
Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair.
What he didn’t expect was you.
Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him.
You were standing right in front of him.
You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.
“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”
It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.
A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.
Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling.
He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching.
But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.
If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.
Two Weeks Earlier
You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes.
And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.
You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.
But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.
“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”
“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”
You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”
“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him.
Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.
“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.
“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”
“Well I didn’t drive it.”
Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”
“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”
You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you.
Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now.
Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them.
He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.
Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.
“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building.
“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”
It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement.
Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands.
But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work.
Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you.
I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore.
“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”
“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”
“So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”
“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.
But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.
Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”
That’s where you still conflicted.
You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months.
But you needed him gone to get over him.
Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life.
So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.
“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”
Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.
“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.
But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion.
You once loved Lando. How could you not?
You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours.
But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.
He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought.
You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”
“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”
“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”
And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally.
As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent.
You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar.
Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.
He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.
“What if things were different?”
You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous.
“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”
He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”
“Asking what if.”
Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”
“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”
There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on.
You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”
That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”
“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”
Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”
A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out.
So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.
“I also want to apologise.”
Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?”
This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.
“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh.
You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”
He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.
“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”
Maybe he did learn something in your absence.
You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.
So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist.
He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this.
You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.
So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours.
You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.
Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.
And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on.
He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.
For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.
“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.
Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you.
“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard.
“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”
“The last race.”
“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.
“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.
“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”
You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.
“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”
Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”
This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.
“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?”
You hesitated, “What about him?”
“He wants you there.”
“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.”
You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.
“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.
You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered.
You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre.
And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you.
So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver.
When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk.
You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life.
When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre.
You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder.
He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time.
Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried.
“Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added.
Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.
You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-
“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode.
“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you.
He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk.
With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there.
“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”
That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there.
And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing.
But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.
Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms.
“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere.
Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again.
“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.
The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.
Well…
Not everyone.
It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre.
Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it.
Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers.
He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver.
Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.
So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.
Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned.
“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it.
He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.”
Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.
“It was never a competition you numbskull.”
Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”
Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship.
Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards.
Neither was keeping you.
But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there.
Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would.
The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if.
The thing was, though, none of it mattered.
You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before.
why am i crying lmao
and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.
i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??
love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre
#pierre gasly x you#pierre gasly fanfic#pierre gasly x reader#pierre gasly x y/n#pierre gasly#lando norris one shot#lando norris social media au#lando norris au#lando norris#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 one shot#f1 requests#f1 au#formula 1#holllandtrash
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Okay so let’s talk about dramatic irony.
Colin’s big Flaw right now is his inability to be himself. This impacts his relationships with team members and also his football playing.
Ted’s speech from a few eps ago where he says “without shame” and the camera focuses on colin? that is where this flaw ties in with his growth as a football player.
We have seen colin make mildly homophobic remarks in the locker room “okay i’ll fuck zava”.
We have seen moments like this increasingly this season as the audience becomes aware of his sexual orientation.
This provides the audience with dramatic irony. The irony is that we know he is saying this to hide as a gay man but the characters in the scene do not.
We also know that what colin is doing is harmful to him. but he is unable to see that. all he is able to do is protect himself.
This episode is the first time (iirc) that we see him say something misogynistic instead of homophobic.
“i know what i’m doing this weekend”
to colin, this is not different. To most of the other players, this is not different.
To us, the audience, this is worse than what he was doing before. He is no longer weaponising homophobia (something he is a victim of) but misogyny (which he is not). you might argue that isnt worse but personally it rubbed me the wrong way and i think a lot of people would agree.
Importantly, some of the players on the team are also opposed to this misogyny.
At this point colin stops joking, and starts defending his real opinion (he shouldn’t have to delete his personal files just because they might be leaked).
This is an issue that some members of the team have beliefs about.
Jamie, Sam, and Isaac, stand up for women by making it clear that keeping nudes when there is a high risk of leaking is not okay.
But colin has skin in this game. Usually, he is never “real” in conversations like this. But this time things are different. He wants to keep the photos.
we see him defend this position by mentioning “memories.” this shows us that his desire is not lustful but sentimental in nature. i’ve seen others point out that this is a facet of his identity (that he is unable to outwardly express!). The photos mean something to him and he is angry at the idea that he is doing something wrong by keeping them.
I don’t think we have ever seen him defend an opinion genuinely before as the audience? In s1 he was pretty much trying to impress jamie. there was one comment about welsh pride but that came across as a joke. (Ted lasso writers make colin more welsh challenge)
And the first time he breaks his facade, the first time he shows his real face, he gets outed.
If he hadn’t cared about the photos he would have stopped arguing, stayed quiet and nodded along. made a joke maybe. something we’ve seen him do many times before. but he was honest about his opinions, so isaac was able to tell he hadn’t deleted anything when everyone else was.
SO: dramatic irony.
The audience knows that he wasn’t being serious with his first comment. “I know what I’m doing this weekend”
We know that that was a joke meant to act as a hyper-masc, homophobic, misogynistic shield in order to disguise his true self.
But the rest of the team do not know that. Issac does not know that. He has probably been making “jokes” like this, off camera, for years.
He leaps straight from a joke about masturbating to leaked nudes, to defending keeping photos that he knows there is a risk of leaking.
We, as the audience, know that he only wants to keep photos.
But Isaac thinks he might as well be defending the leak.
When Colin says “fuck off” to Isaac, he prompts him to take his phone. Isaac is acting the responsible team captain, here.
From what information he has, it just seems like colin is completely out of line. He’s defending misigyny, probably risking the safety and privacy of multiple women, being uncharacteristically rude and angry about it.
He probably has to deal with toxic behaviour from team members all the time. His own captaincy has been a source of growth for him, from the bully he used to be, to someone who tries to make sure everyone is behaving respectfully and as a team.
In any other situation I would want him to take the phone and delete the photos.
But he didn’t know that Colin also needed privacy. And colin was unable to express that to him as someone who is desperately hiding parts of himself.
So Isaac takes the phone.
I think this all explains Isaac’s reaction. Confusion, nods, leaves.
He is confused because he is learning that this interaction is absolutely not what he thought it was. He nods because he accepts that, bc it’s a totally different situation than he thought, he doesn’t need to delete the photos. then he leaves, because what else is he supposed to do.
And colin is left knowing that his slip-up (the first time we see him express a sincere and deeply held emotion in front of the team) caused the very thing he was so afraid of happening.
EDIT: oh also the irony of how isaac invades colins privacy while trying to protect other people’s because he doesn’t think of colin as someone who needs privacy from him. I allude to that but i meant to make is clearer. EDIT 2: corrected spelling of isaac
#ted lasso meta#ted lasso#colin hughes#isaac mcadoo#i have an essay due tomorrow im not proofreading this#hope its comprehensible
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