#‘you will never guess what just happened.’

[astonmartinii]

day six: not so home for christmas | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

oscar and y/n are having their first christmas in monaco because of a snow storm, unfortunately this also means they're now hosting most of the grid as well.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 137,094 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: thanks a lot snow storm :( i guess it's our first ever christmas here in monaco

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user1: yall global warming might just be real

user2: you're only just realising it now ?

charles_leclerc: you kids and your complaining - a white christmas in monaco, what more could you want?

yourusername: a christmas at home with our families?

charles_leclerc: families? when you're in your adopted father-in-law's home city, i'd watch your tone if i were you

oscarpiastri: if you think of your kids as often as you say then you should be worried that your aussie son is going to FREEZE to death :(

charles_leclerc: if it's the bbq you crave, you can still do that?

yourusername: it's snowing? and he is NOT bringing our bbq inside

charles_leclerc: okay jeez, not much christmas spirit here i see

oscarpiastri: we miss our families, sue us

user3: wait... if they couldn't get out of nice... who else couldn't

user4: the storm kicked in like a day ago right?

user5: based on instagram activity, my guess is that max, lando, ollie (idk why he was in monaco anyway), kimi (i think he's attached to ollie), alex (and lily) and george

user6: i know it would never happen but wouldn't it be so cute if we got a grid christmas dinner

yourusername: please don't give them any ideas

oscarpiastri: i only just got rid of them 😩

landonorris: so, just out of interest, is y/n still free to maybe wrap my presents for me?

yourusername: do i look like the christmas fairy to you?

landonorris: well i know for a fact that oscar's ass was not wrapping those presents

oscarpiastri: well y/n actually likes doing things for me soooooo

landonorris: PLEASE Y/N I'LL HAVE TO RESORT TO USING TIN FOIL

yourusername: tin foil... please you are a 25 year old man

landonorris: does it look like i'm a man who has sellotape in his house?

yourusername: no.

user7: y/n is like a full time mum to a load of men all older than her

user8: she better get ready to cook for them at christmas because none of these men can cook for themselves

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 692,108 others

tagged: yourusername & landonorris

oscarpiastri: i'm not sure how this went from our lonely christmas away from both of our families to babysitting half of the grid but what the hell, sure

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user10: i personally blame all of you for this

user11: and what??? i'm so excited

user12: i hope they post nothing more just to spite your ass

charles_leclerc: i’m kinda offended no one thought of coming to mine :/

maxverstappen1: you’re shit at cooking

charles_leclerc: how would you know?

maxverstappen1: i saw it in your vlog

charles_leclerc: you watch my vlogs???

maxverstappen1: NO?

yourusername: okay queens stop flirting and get back to your stations in the kitchen

charles_leclerc: can we flirt there?

yourusername: if you're still peeling - knock yourselves out

user13: y/n basically confirming lestappen? wow christmas DID come early this year

user14: the real question is why she would let those menaces in the kitchen?

yourusername: i have seen how much these people eat, i need help even from the useless

yourusername: also if they want certain dishes from home they have to help

maxverstappen1: i am CORING AS MANY APPLES AS I CAN I PROMISE THE APPLE BEIGNETS WILL BE WORTH IT

oscarpiastri: i know they will be, y/n is making them

maxverstappen1: okay buddy, i don't see you helping

oscarpiastri: i am keeping everyone else in line, that's a full time job as well

user15: who made the youngest couple in charge of these fools?

user16: a comedic genius

yourusername: they're annoying but i'll deal with them for you

oscarpiastri: you make such sacrifices for me, i love you

yourusername: i love you more

alexalbon: we're really not that bad you guys are being dramatic

yourusername: george walked up to our mantle piece, pointed at my baby picture and said "ugly. my condolences" ?

alexalbon: that's george ? he's mean to everyone

yourusername: HE'S IN THAT BABY'S HOUSE

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 418,934 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri & kimiantonelli

olliebearman: first christmas with my big brother :))))

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user17: yall be on oscar about him holding onto the leclerc family joke but the real enemy is ollie

olliebearman: i think it's cute

olliebearman: and it's NOT a joke

user18: you know what? yeah i'd also keep going with the joke i need to get in that leclerc family

olliebearman: the real catch here is y/n she's going to teach me to crochet :)

yourusername: we can make little bear mans !!!

user19: the grid dad stuff was cringey... but grid brother well that's hitting like crack i fear

charles_leclerc: grid dads are cringey ??? count your days

user19: sorry?

charles_leclerc: i (and my family) will NOT tolerate sebastian vettel slander. not now not EVER

fernandoalo_oficial: and me?

charles_leclerc: i couldn't give a fuck about you old man

fernandoalo_oficial: excuse me

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll have you know i am just as much oscar's father as you are

charles_leclerc: and how have you come to that OBVIOUSLY WRONG conclusion

fernandoalo_oficial: WELL i don't know maybe his REAL grid dad is actually mark webber who i have a well documented homoerotic relationship with and therefore oscar and most importantly Y/N are my children

charles_leclerc: what a load of bullshit

charles_leclerc: if grid children were based on homoerotic tension then i'd be father to all of the red bull juniors and max would have custody of the FDA

maxverstappen1: well....

pepemarti: hi !!!

dinobeganovic: hey.....

yourusername: what happened to the original plot of the movie

user20: i think the cabin fever is getting to them

lilymunhe: no they're like this all of the time it's exhausting

yourusername: tell me about it

olliebearman: but not me :(

yourusername: no we love you

oscarpiastri: you are the least annoying one

olliebearman: omg thank you :3

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, alexalbon and 163,207 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc & landonorris

yourusername: not so home for christmas but with family nonetheless

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user22: what was the dress code here?

landonorris: what we had left? all the dry cleaners are closed because of the storm

yourusername: you take ALL of your clothes to the dry cleaners?

landonorris: why wouldn't i do that...

yourusername: yk what, whatever !

user23: omg of course leo was there as well

yourusername: we only invited charles for him

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

landonorris: he was invited ????

oscarpiastri: well he was staying in monaco anyway and you guys all invoked your squatters rights in my house so what was one more

landonorris: i am not squatting? my ass is already big enough as it is

yourusername: i know your ass is big because YOU'RE ALWAYS SAT ON IT

oscarpiastri: god i love you

yourusername: i love you even more

oscarpiastri: nuh uh not possible

yourusername: i love you so much i'm not even that angry about half of the grid crashing our christmas

oscarpiastri: i love you so much that i personally barged a child out of the way to get you your eras tour merch

yourusername: i do love my merch.... but not as much as i love you

oscarpiastri: you're so romantic

georgerussell63: right that's it, i am SICK of you people pretending you are not enjoying our presence

yourusername: did i or did i not say family ???

oscarpiastri: george i'd appreciate if you didn't talk to y/n this way

maxverstappen1: yeah back the fuck off

georgerussell63: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: ummmm y/n busted her ass to make apple beignets for me so i had some netherlands with me at christmas so i would die for her. i am somwhat fond of oscar as well

maxverstappen1: so fuck with them, you fuck with me

maxverstappen1: and you seem to like doing that recently

yourusername: awwww thanks max!

oscarpiastri: we are fond of you too buddy

georgerussell63: how did i lose this?

user24: max out here getting wags on his side

maxverstappen1: that's my ma

maxverstappen1: wait that makes my homoerotic tension with charles incest

maxverstappen1: that's my home girl

oscarpiastri

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tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: y/n absolutely smashed our makeshift grid christmas and she said she'll accept thanks in qualifying tows or easy passes on track 👍

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user25: oh they want me dead

user26: i would do questionable things to get a slice of that cake

user27: drop the recipe please xxx

yourusername: oh babe i be following the tiktoks like the rest of yall - i'll repost it

user28: woman of the people

yourusername: babe i don't really remember saying those exact words...

oscarpiastri: PLEASE ! they don't say no to you now you've filled their stomachs

landonorris: he's not wrong

maxverstappen1: you're in my will now

charles_leclerc: you're now my favourite daughter in law

yourusername: i'm your only daughter in law?

charles_leclerc: idk kimi and ollie are pretty attached with their weird tension

landonorris: like father like son

charles_leclerc: huh?

landonorris: huh?

oscarpiastri: ^^ see !!!! y/n please !!!

yourusername: fine.

yourusername: thank you all for coming, i hope you enjoyed dinner and your time with us. i loved spending time with you all but if you wish, i will be accepting thanks in the form of qualifying tows and easy passes for oscar or pornstar martinis from any hospitality

yourusername: happy?

oscarpiastri: yes

oscarpiastri: YOU HEARD THE WOMAN GUYS

maxverstappen1: oh i love y/n but i'd rather put you in the wall than let that ugly orange car past without a fight

georgerussell63: @fia i told yall

yourusername: are you ever gonna give that up ?

georgerussell63: no? and i KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SAT ME NEXT TO HIM AT DINNER

yourusername: you'll never prove it :P

user29: oscar is such a sassy man

yourusername: he gets it from his momma

oscarpiastri: and you :)

yourusername: i will say your ability to watch my reality tv with you is a big factor in how much i love you

landonorris: is that why oscar once woke me up the night before a race by shouting "get her ass lisa" ???

oscarpiastri: we watch real housewives together on facetime :)

charles_leclerc

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tagged: yourusername & oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc: i made the right choice in son and most importantly daughter in law

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user31: okay the cinnamon buns have thrown me over the edge now

user32: i NEED to know who asked for them

alexalbon: guilty 💅 and they slapped thanks y/m

oscarpiastri: we've been dating for years? like when i was still in f3?

charles_leclerc: semantics

oscarpiastri: no i met and charmed y/n all on my own thank you very much

charles_leclerc: because she saw the future and the potential of our prosperous family !!!

oscarpiastri: at this point, whatever you wanna hear old man

charles_leclerc: relegated below ollie

olliebearman: score !!!

user33: oh these people are never letting this joke die are they

user34: i think we're stuck with it

charles_leclerc: are you people sick of whimsy ???

charles_leclerc: i am ALLOWED to flex my son's amazing choice in women, especially a woman who will make me a swiss roll on demand

yourusername: he does have amazing taste

oscarpiastri: thank you :3

yourusername: as much as you guys were somewhat annoying, we had an amazing christmas xx

oscarpiastri: please do not bother us until march

charles_leclerc: fine. but we're still on for the double date in melbourne?

charles_leclerc: (maybe triple? idk ollie can just bring kimi)

kimiantonelli: score !!!

yourusername: we would love to !

oscarpiastri: i guess you could meet my actual family ?

charles_leclerc: not now oscar, let me enjoy chritmas with you all before you remind me of that

oscarpiastri: okay?

user35: y/n and oscar actually have the patience of saints because if these clowns crashed my christmas i'd be on the news

yourusername: any christmas is perfect with him

oscarpiastri: with y/n, i can get through even the most annoying people

user35: okay yall didn't have to flex on me that hard damn

fin.

note: here's day six! i'm not sure if you guys saw my update post but this series won't be done by christmas day but will stretch to NYE because unfortunately my cat has to be put down :( i've had him for nearly 19 years and it's really hard to think about him being gone so i'm just spending as much time as possible with him atm. anyway, i hope you enjoyed !! xx

[sweeturavity]

𝓑𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇. . when katsuki finally confessed his “big problem”—his baby fever that had been eating away at him for months— tiny feet and starting a family, you were surprised—but safe to say, you weren’t against it.

katsuki bakugo had a big problem. well, not big enough to cause chaos—though he was no stranger to that—but big enough to keep him up at night, pacing his living room like a restless tiger in a cage. how could a man like him—a grumpier version of any grandmother you’ve ever met, a walking volcano of hot-headedness, and someone who never gave a damn about societal expectations—have this kind of problem?

the thing is, katsuki bakugo was hiding a secret. a deep, dark, unbelievably soft secret. one that not even you, the person closest to him, would suspect. because who in their right mind would guess that the mighty explosion master extraordinaire, was an absolute sucker for babies?

yes, katsuki bakugo had a raging case of baby fever.

it started the moment he began spending more time with you—watching you interact with the world, your gentle care for others, and that warmth you exuded that could melt even his gruff exterior. he never really thought about kids before, much less his own. but then he saw you holding a friend’s baby at a small gathering, cradling the tiny bundle in your arms like they were the most precious thing in the world. the way you smiled down at them, the soft cooing noises you made, and how the baby instantly relaxed against you—it was like a punch straight to his chest.

katsuki swore he felt his heart skip a beat. that tiny human looked so damn peaceful in your arms, and for the first time in his life, he imagined what it might be like to see you holding a child that looked like both of you.

ever since that day, the thought just wouldn’t leave him alone. he’d catch himself staring at families in parks, his sharp eyes zeroing in on chubby cheeks, tiny fingers, and wobbly little steps. he even started tolerating kirishima’s stories about his nieces and nephews, though he’d never admit it out loud.

but here’s the kicker—katsuki bakugo was absolutely mortified about telling you. how does a guy like him, who’s built his entire persona on being tough, independent, and borderline unapproachable, confess that he’s been daydreaming about late-night feedings and toddler tantrums? about a miniature version of himself—or, god forbid, you—running around the house?

so he kept it to himself, bottling up those strange, unfamiliar feelings like he did with most things. but every time he saw you, especially when you were in one of those rare, tender moods, he felt that itch grow stronger. he wanted to tell you. he wanted to share this part of himself with you.

and it didn’t take much longer for you to figure out what was going on with your husband. after all, you knew katsuki bakugo like the back of your hand—every scowl, every grumble, every subtle shift in his demeanor. it was easy to notice when something was off, even when he thought he was being sneaky about it.

you saw how his eyes would linger, softening ever so slightly, whenever a baby was around. at first, you thought it was just a coincidence—a rare moment of katsuki being uncharacteristically quiet. but then it kept happening. whether it was at the park, at a friend’s house, or even in the grocery store, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from those chubby-cheeked little ones.

and then there were the baby videos. oh, those damn videos. you remembered the first time you caught him watching one. he’d been sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone with his usual scowl. but when you peeked over his shoulder, you saw it—a ridiculously adorable video of a baby giggling uncontrollably at their dog’s antics.

“seriously, katsuki?” you teased, leaning in closer. “didn’t take you for the ‘cute baby video’ type.”

he practically jumped out of his skin, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket with a glare. “shut up.” he barked, his ears turning a telltale shade of pink. “it popped up on my feed. stupid algorithm.”

but after that, you started noticing more. how his fingers would hesitate just a second longer when he scrolled past a baby video, or how he’d glance at your phone if you were watching something similar. of course, he’d always roll his eyes and mutter something about how “cringe” and “unnecessary” it was for people to post that kind of shit online.

“what’s the point, huh?” he’d grumble, arms crossed over his chest. “ain’t like anyone cares about random babies.”

but you weren’t fooled. not even for a second. the way his voice softened at the end, the faintest twitch of his lips as if he were fighting back a smile—you knew. katsuki bakugo had a soft spot, and it was big enough to fit every giggling baby and their tiny fingers in it.

and now that you knew, it was just a matter of time before you brought it up. because there was no way you were going to let him keep this adorable little secret to himself.

you decided to wait for the right moment, knowing katsuki would probably combust on the spot if you confronted him too soon. patience wasn’t always your strong suit, but for this, you were willing to bide your time.

that moment came one lazy sunday afternoon. katsuki was sprawled out on the couch, pretending to be interested in whatever action movie was playing on the TV, but you knew better. his phone was resting suspiciously close, and every few minutes, he’d glance at it like it was calling his name.

“you know.” you began casually, sitting down beside him and leaning against his shoulder. “you’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”

he stiffened immediately, a gruff ‘tch’ escaping his lips as he shifted under your weight. “the hell are you talking about? ’m not acting weird.”

“oh, really?” you tilted your head to look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “so, you’re saying you didn’t watch that compilation of babies trying lemons yesterday?”

his eyes widened, just a fraction, before narrowing into his usual glare. “you were spying on me?”

“you were sitting right next to me, katsuki. it’s not spying if you’re practically shoving it in my face.”

he grumbled something under his breath, probably a string of curses about how nosy you were, but you weren’t about to let him squirm out of this.

“you know.” you continued, voice softer now. “it’s okay to admit you like them. babies, i mean.”

his entire body went rigid, and for a moment, you thought he might explode—not in anger, but sheer embarrassment. his ears turned that familiar shade of pink, and he refused to meet your gaze, choosing instead to glare at the TV like it had personally offended him.

“i don’t—” he started, but you cut him off with a gentle laugh.

“katsuki.” you said, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his. “it’s fine. it’s not like you’re some heartless robot. you’re allowed to like cute things, you know. even babies.”

he let out a frustrated sigh, running his free hand through his hair. “it’s not like that.” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i just. . fuck, i don’t know. ever since you—i mean, we—it’s just been on my mind, okay?”

you blinked, taken aback by his honesty. katsuki bakugo wasn’t the type to bare his soul, but here he was, stumbling over his words, trying to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself.

“on your mind, huh?” you teased gently, though your heart was swelling at his vulnerability. “like. . you’ve been thinking about us? having a baby?”

he groaned, dropping his head back against the couch and covering his face with his arm. “don’t make me say it out loud, idiot.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “you’re such a dork, katsuki. but for the record. . i think you’d be a pretty amazing dad.”

that got his attention. he peeked at you from under his arm, his crimson eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or teasing. when he didn’t find any, his expression softened, and he let out a quiet, almost relieved breath.

“yeah?” he asked gruffly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

“yeah.” you said firmly, squeezing his hand with a warmth that made his chest ache in the best way. “and, you know, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to start our own family.”

katsuki could feel his heart skip a beat, the words settling over him like a blanket of relief and excitement all at once. he stared at you, wide-eyed and a little stunned, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

you were more than happy with his idea.

he didn’t know what he was expecting—maybe teasing, maybe some sarcastic remark to brush off the heavy topic—but this? this genuine, heartfelt agreement? it floored him.

“you— you mean that?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

you smiled at him, your expression so soft and full of love that he thought he might melt right then and there. “of course, i mean it, katsuki. i’ve been thinking about it too, you know. and seeing how you are. . it just makes me feel like we’d be good at this. together.”

his throat felt tight, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. katsuki bakugo didn’t cry, damn it, but this moment—this you—was doing something to him he couldn’t quite explain.

“yeah, well.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, his ears still bright red. “don’t think i’ll be one of those soft-ass dads who lets the kid get away with everything.”

you chuckled, leaning closer and wrapping your arms around his middle. “no, you’ll be the dad who pretends to be all tough but secretly sneaks them sweets when i’m not looking.”

“the hell i will.” he shot back, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

you chuckled softly, the sound filling the quiet room as you glanced up at your husband. your eyes met his, and in that moment, they said more than words ever could—full of love, trust, and the unspoken promise of a future you both were starting to dream about together.

katsuki’s crimson gaze softened in a way that was reserved only for you. his calloused hand moved with a gentleness that never failed to surprise you, his fingers slowly tilting your chin up to meet his.

“c’mere.” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter.

before you could reply, his lips brushed against yours, firm yet tender, a kiss that spoke volumes. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was reassurance, excitement, and an unspoken vow all wrapped into one.

you melted into him, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. it was moments like this that reminded you just how deeply katsuki loved, even if he wasn’t always the best at putting it into words.

slowly, the kiss deepened, the soft tenderness giving way to something more heated, more desperate. katsuki’s hands moved on instinct, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided you onto his lap. the motion was seamless, almost as if it was second nature for him to want you this close, to feel you against him.

his hands found their way to your waist, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made your breath hitch. it wasn’t calculated—it never was with katsuki. his movements were raw, driven by pure feeling, as if his body knew what he wanted before his mind could catch up.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low growl from deep in his chest. the sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but press yourself closer, your knees bracketing his thighs as you straddled him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and rough as his hands tightened their hold on your waist, pulling you even closer. “always makin’ me feel shit i never thought i’d feel.”

you smiled against his mouth, your own fingers sliding down to trace the sharp lines of his jaw. “maybe i just have that effect on you, katsu.”

“damn right, you do.” he shot back, his lips trailing down your jaw and along the column of your neck, leaving a searing trail in their wake. his breath was hot against your skin, and the way his hands moved—one slipping up to rest against the small of your back, the other holding your hip firmly in place—made your head spin.

the movie playing in the background was long forgotten, the only sounds in the room now the soft gasps escaping your lips and the low, gravelly noises katsuki made as he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough. and truthfully, he couldn’t.

[gremlinwithacause]

You should have known better. It’s not the first time you’ve been ditched, but it might be the last. Huh. 

You make good money on your work. You’re nothing noble or special. You’re just damn good at your job. Fighting and killing come second hand. You could blame it on your parents. Blame it on working at a slaughterhouse. Blame it on getting picked on and having to fight for yourself. Blame it on needing cash to live. The details don’t matter all that much. You’re a good fighter and a better killer. Someone told you that your need to survive made you different. You don’t think so and you’re tired of hearing it. 

It’s not just the shady folks that hire you. You get plenty of employers of good standing. The adventurers aren’t special. A set in a line of many that want extra hands or extra cannon fodder. You tend to be lucky enough to be the former. You’ve ended up in jail more than once for people like this. Your wealthier employers tend to bail you out. You were valuable enough for the extra investment. Worth more alive, and all that. So you’ve been around a few dozen times. 

Being ditched in the field isn’t new but being half dead is. 

You should have seen it on their faces. You should have known better. They didn’t want you there, but someone thought they needed you. It makes sense they ditched you once the boss went down. 

But damn. They didn’t even watch it happen. Straight for the loot, huh? On some level you respect it, on the other level you’re bleeding out and you can only watch them run away. Not even a one liner? A spit on your body? A single piece of gold thrown on your body and a good “there’s your payment, you filthy animal.” 

Huh. Maybe you deserve it. You never messed with theatrics. Why would you get any? 

Things are fading in and out. Blood loss is always a pain to deal with. It would be easier to let go, you think. You still put pressure on the wound in your stomach and side and breathe through the pain. It’d be insulting if you just let yourself keel over, right? No, you’re just scared. 

“Guess we’re both expendable, huh?” 

You don’t have it in you to startle. The boss that you were damn sure was dead is not that. Alive enough to banter with you. It’s more than you offered anyone. What a sweetheart. 

“Dunno,” you say. “Never really thought of it.”

It makes sense. You’re not a hero. What were the chances of you actually out-living adventurers like the ones that ditched you here? You’re worth more alive, but when is the investment no longer worth it?

“‘S funny,” the boss says. Chatty, you think. What can you do but humor them? “Didn’t think heroes would leave their own behind.” 

“I was hired,” you say. 

“Really?” 

They laugh. Then cough and choke on blood or their own spit. You wait for them to finish their cackling, and then continue to wait for the end. 

“They're always picky with their heroes, huh?” 

Oh boy, the pronoun game. 

“Don’t care,” you say. May whatever higher power there is forgive your temper as you’re dying. “It’s work.” 

“Ah. You’re one of those,” they say. Like they know you. Ugh. You want to finish the job. “I always liked those. Basic motivations are the best. Nothing to second guess.” 

You roll your eyes. You’ve heard it all before. What is it worth now? 

“I tried the whole leader thing,” they say. “Good worshippers are hard to find, you know?”

You don’t. You won’t. 

“Sounds more like a cult.” “Eh. Same thing,” they dismiss. 

“What were you even the god of?” you snap. You can’t help it. This guy wasn’t any more special than you--that is: not.

“Anything I could get my hands on,” they say. “I wasn’t picky. Got enough of something that I became this, though.”

A boss. A few tiers above the usual monsters that you can find, always locked up in some kind of home base. 

“So were you a god or not?”

“No, never got that far. Wouldn’t have lost to you if I did.”

“Sure. Lie to yourself.”

They laugh again, “I like that. Confidence like that is usually up on some pedestal. Good on you.” 

“Yeah. Did me a lot of good.” 

“Did you enough,” they say. “You’re not new at this, must have been going for a while.”

“It’s work,” you repeat. It’s always work. It’s to survive. 

“You want a new job?” they ask. 

You lift your head enough to look over at them. They’re flat on their back. Your spear is still in their chest. It’s what’s keeping them from bleeding out. You know better than to leave the weapon in, but you were distracted by the whole dying thing. 

It’s getting harder to keep the pressure on your wound. Your hands are getting weaker. You’re getting weaker. You’re surprised you’re still awake. And what is this guy talking about? …You’ll indulge it. What else are you going to do? 

“Contract?” you ask. 

“Sure,” they say. 

A silver contract appears in front of you, something you don’t see too often. The consequences on silvers are serious, most people just do physical ones or bronzes. 

You squint to make sense of the blurring letters. 

“Follower? Really? What, are you still trying to form that cult?” you snort. It hurts and you dig your fingers into your skin. You don’t even feel it. 

“Good clerics are hard to find,” they say.

“Hah, and your lucky cleric is about to kick the bucket,” you say. “Sucks to be you.”

“Read it.” 

“Sorry. It gets hard to read with blood in your eyes.” 

“You live. You worship me.” 

You grimace. Sounds like a hassle. But… the idea of continuing to live is like candy. What else is there to do? It’s work.

You sign. 

You’re a mercenary hired by adventurers to defeat the boss. After the battle, they loot the treasure and abandon you wounded. The defeated boss crawls over and says, “Guess we’re both expendable, huh?”

[scarletemeterio]

Hello! Can I ask for ekko with an reader who confessed to him thrice (and thrice rejected) and then he finally falls hard for them? With a happy ending, thank you!

(kind of like she fell first he fell harder trope)

Let Me Love You (Ekko x Reader)

Warnings: some cursing Genre: angst, hurt/comfort Word count: 2.3k Reader has no set pronouns!

The first time was the hardest of them all. You’d muster up the courage to confess your feelings for him, knowing very well that it could go south.

“I have something to tell you,” you uttered. He gave you a worried look, noticing that there was a hint of desperation in your voice. You were in his so-called office, working on something that didn’t really matter anymore.

“Is everything okay?” He simply asked.

“I’m not sure,” you began, “but I really need to say this.” He gave you his full attention, making you feel a bit intimidated by him and extremely self-conscious. “I’m in love with you,” you blurted out.

Silence quickly filled the room, and the tension could easily be cut by a knife. The moment you saw his face, you knew it: he didn’t feel the same way.

“I, uh, I don’t know what to say,” he mumbled more to himself than to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward at all. You can just forget I said anything.”

“I really don’t want to hurt you but I just don’t feel the same way.” You were trying to hold back your tears as his words left his mouth. “You’re an amazing person and anyone would be lucky to be with you, but that person isn’t me.”

You simply looked at him and slowly nodded. “It’s okay, you can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t.” It was hard to speak at this point. He knew you were hurt, but you’d never show it; it would just make things harder for the both of you. “Is this gonna change things between us?”

“I would hate that, honestly.” You nodded again, finally being on the same page about something. He came closer and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder to try and alleviate the tension. If only it were that easy.

•••

Some time passed and you still tried to hide your feelings for him. For a while, it worked, you’d suppressed them every time you spent time with the boy but deep down, you missed the way you were before. It had always been hard for you to open up to people, but you’d never been this miserable before. You were just a shadow of your usual self, and it was evident to everyone in the base.

Ekko himself tried to talk to you about it, clearly oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for your attitude. Finally, after a particularly hard day for you, you just lost it.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Ekko? It’s you!” You truly didn’t mean to scream at him but you also couldn’t help it. Lately, you lived on edge, always frustrated about something; it was like you were a bomb simply waiting to explode. “I swear I tried to play dumb, to ignore everything but I just can’t.”

“Is this about-?”

“Yes, Ekko, of course it is.” You interrupted him. “I know you went on with your life and pretended I never said anything so we could go back to the way things were, but it’s not that easy for me. Nothing about this has been easy.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “You know exactly how I feel about you. We’ve known each other for years, you can’t tell me you never realized why I’ve been acting so strange.”

There was a pause between you. You were agitated, heart beating so fast that you could feel it in your throat. “I guess I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened,” he confessed after some time. “Acknowledging it made it real and I just- I just want my friend back, without any messiness and complications between us.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ekko. I’m sorry my feelings are such an inconvenience to you. Trust me, I wish I could change them and forget about you for good but I just can’t.”

Something twitched inside of him when you said that and he looked at you with hurt eyes. “You really mean that? That you’d like to forget me?”

“I meant forgetting about my feelings for you, ‘cause you’re not making things easy for me,” you explained. “When you come over and put your arm around me or stand so close to me that I can feel you breathing it kills me, Ekko. And the worst part is that you know it.” You took a deep breath, anger slowly leaving you, feeling nothing but sadness. “Sometimes I feel like you enjoy testing me like that because you know that no matter what I’ll always come back to you. But I’m tired of this dance between us, it’s too much.”

“I just don’t know how to feel! This is hard for me too!” Neither of you cared if someone heard you at this point, you’d simply have to put up with the weird looks from everyone. “I don’t know what you want me to do and I’m confused.”

“Honestly,” you began, “I want you to give me some space.”

“Wait, I- uh, I don’t want that, please,” he took a step closer to you, trying to grab ahold of your hand but you avoided his touch, as you avoided his sad eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me, Ekko?”

“I said I’m confused.”

“It’s a simple question, do you?”

You finally looked at him and he realized that you were crying. He could count with one hand the number of times he’d seen you cry, and he never thought he’d be the reason why. “I don’t know,” he finally whispered.

“Then I don’t have anything else to say. I don’t want to wait for you to figure out how you feel and keep getting hurt in the process, I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Wait, please-.”

“Ekko,” you cut him, “I need some space, don’t make this even harder, please.” And with that, you left, leaving him even more confused than before, and with a pain in his chest he couldn’t really explain.

You should’ve known this was coming. Still, it hurt like the first time. You couldn’t blame him; if anything, you were glad he was honest with you. But after today, you realized that you needed to keep some distance from him, or this would end up destroying you for good.

•••

Days quickly turned into weeks, and you realized you hadn’t said a word to the Firelight’s leader in almost a month. Your heart still flipped inside whenever you inevitably ran into him or locked eyes with him within the first few days since the fight, and soon you started avoiding him all along.

In no time, the boy started feeling an emptiness inside him, something he couldn’t explain. He was truthful with you in that last conversation, he truly wasn’t sure how he felt, but with every passing day that you were nowhere to be seen, he realized that maybe he’d been a complete fool.

He missed you, there was no denying that. Now the question was if his feelings for you were simply platonic or if deep down he yearned for you, maybe even more than you for him. Ekko wasn’t the best with his emotions, not because he actively repressed them, but because all of this was extremely new to him, and he just felt so overwhelmed. However, there was one thing he was extremely sure of: he wanted you in his life.

It had been days since he last saw you, evident now that you’d been avoiding him for a while, so when he finally caught a glimpse of you around the base, it was like seeing an angel. Soon, his pleasant feelings were replaced by envy. You were talking with one of the new members from the Firelights, nothing out of the ordinary, but there was nothing he wanted more than to be the one you had your attention on. He didn’t recognize himself, filled with jealousy and bitterness.

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts when someone asked him a question, engaging in conversation with him, but that strange sensation still clung to him like glue. He hated himself and blamed his stupid ass for being such an idiot, these were merely the consequences of his own actions.

When he was lying in bed that night trying to fall asleep, you were the only thing on his mind. Your smile that shined like the stars, your lips that he so wanted to feel against his own while your arms wrapped around his body. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, he was such an idiot. If only he’d realized this before then maybe now you wouldn’t hate him. It all seemed so obvious to him now. You were there for him, by his side from the very beginning. He could always count on and lean on you, he trusted you even more than he trusted himself. Oftentimes he’d become mesmerized by how pretty you looked when you spent time together, the sun hitting your face in just the perfect way or your hair effortlessly framing your face in such a flawless way. Of course, he thought nothing of all this at the time, brushing it off as objective thinking. But now, it suddenly hit him, everything was different now because he wasn’t unsure anymore, he knew exactly how he felt about you. He loved you.

He sat on his bed, passing his hands through his face in an attempt to clear his mind. He wanted- no, needed to talk to you. Maybe you didn’t even feel the same way anymore, but he had to get it off his chest, he had to at least try. But right now, he also had to calm his nerves because if he didn’t, he’d go and knock on your door this very moment, and he was certain you didn’t wanna see him at all. So instead, he got up and went to take a walk, thinking it would be nice to sit by the tree to help him organize his thoughts. What he wasn’t expecting was seeing you there.

As soon as you saw his figure making its way to you, you got up, ready to leave but were interrupted by his voice. “Wait, please, don’t go.” You knew you should pay him no attention and leave anyway, but it had been so long since you’d last heard his voice that you were taken aback for a moment, standing in place. “Can we talk?” His voice was soft, nothing compared to what it was in your last conversation together; you could even hear a hint of desperation, which was what ultimately made you turn around and stay.

“What do you want, Ekko?” As soon as he heard you he let out a small smile, confirming that yours was the voice he wanted to hear every day when he woke up and every night before going to sleep.

He motioned for you to sit down again, doing the same right after you. “I’m sorry for everything,” he began saying, “I never meant for things to end up like this between us.” His chest accompanied his breathing, moving just a little too fast, earning him a concerned look from you. “I know that you probably hate me now, I know I would if I were you, and you’ll probably hate me even more after what I have to say since I acted like a complete idiot and took so long to figure out something that was right in front of me this whole time but I- uh, I do have feelings for you. Lots of feelings actually, I’m in love with you.”

You snapped your neck to look at him, trying to read his expression in search of a playful tone, but it wasn’t there. He was serious, he was finally saying what you wanted to hear for so long now. So long that you couldn’t fully believe him.

“Ekko, I don’t want any games, please.”

“I’m being serious. These weeks without you have been absolute torture, I can’t do this without you, I need you.” He rubbed his face, stopping at the bridge of his nose to pinch it. When he looked back at you, he had tears forming in his eyes, a sight you hadn’t seen in a very long time. “I’m being honest. I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally realize it. I made it my personal vow to always protect you and keep you safe and I’m the one that caused you pain and for that, I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t really know what to say, nothing seemed good enough. Your mind was racing and quickly you were lost in your thoughts and were brought back to reality by the sound of Ekko getting up, ready to leave. “These last weeks have been hell for me, too.” Your eyes met his and you stoop up, getting closer to him. “I don’t hate you, Ekko. I could never hate you.”

“But you don’t love me anymore?”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.” He got closer to you, trying to grab your hand and this time, you let him do it. He brought it to his face and planted a kiss on it, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m so in love with you that just thinking about spending a second away from you makes me suffer. I don’t want to feel that way anymore, I want to be with you, share my life with you, and love you every day.” One of his hands went to cup your face and you leaned against it. “Please let me love you.”

You looked at his lips and then back at his eyes, and in just a second the air was knocked out of your lungs when you felt his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet but desperate and filled with emotions. “Please let me love you, too,” you said when you separated.

“Nothing would make me happier.”

hey! i loved this request, i'm a sucker for angst :)

i changed it just a little bit but i still hope you like it anon, thanks for requesting! really enjoyed writing this one and i LOVE writing for ekko

[starkeynation]

I love you, I’m sorry

A letter from reader to Rafe

Content: Angst, like PURE sad, the lamp looks weird, based on the song I love you, I’m sorry by Gracie Abrams (may or may not be accurate)

A/N: about that cliffhanger and happy ending, I changed my mind… also ignore any writing mistakes if there’s any and this was kinda rushed so I hope it still turns out good

Masterlist

dividers from @anitalenia

Rafe,

It is Saturday night. I should be out doing something, partying or whatever to enjoy myself, yet here i am, pen in hand, finding myself writing to you again. I know this letter will never reach you- it’ll end up crumpled at the bottom of my drawer or burned to ashes. Still, I can’t seem to stop myself.

It has been exactly two august ago since everything fell apart. I remember the way I laid it all out, raw, I wanted to be real, hoping that honesty would mend us. We weren’t perfect. Hell, we were far from it. We fought like fire and gasoline, burning everything we touched. Jealousy leads us to mistrust each other but even then, I didn’t think it would end the way it did. I never thought that fight would be the last..the final, devastating blow before you ghosted me and blocked me everywhere.

I swear it wasn’t my intention to break up with you, I thought by exposing the cracks, we could patch them together. Instead, the truth just ended up pushing you away. When you drove off in your Benz and left me standing at my gate, it felt like everything had stopped. The time, the world, my heart…everything froze. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream, I wanted to stop you, beg you to stay, to tell you that we could still save us but you didn’t look back, and i was too late.

Now, i watch you from a distance as you become successful, helping your dad doing business, running Cameron’s development like you were born to do it. I heard your name whispered in admiration at the club where I work, how you charm people the way you trained for. And you know what? I’m so so proud of you Rafe. I always knew you had it in you. I’ll be rooting for you always, even from the shadows.

Maybe two summers from now we’ll be talking again at some point, exchange smiles, our lives untangled and we’re cool again. I can picture you’ll be in your family’s jet, travelling, and me, on my boat moving on with our own lives. By then, i hope..im actually ready to move on. I know you’ve already moved on- I mean, why wouldn’t you? Still, there’s part of me wish that you wouldn’t yet, and maybe, just maybe, you would take me back.

But that’s just selfish isn’t it? I was selfish when we were together too. I made everything about me, i was inconsiderate, I turn something small into raging battles. I didn’t listen, didn’t see you for who you were. I’m ashamed of the person I was, of the mistakes I made. After everything i did, I’m surprised you haven’t send someone to kill me yet.

Lately I find myself sitting on the porch, watching sunsets like we used to, with a glass of something strong in my hand. I laugh at myself, at the crash I made, because what else can I do? It’s a twisted kind of coping—laughing at my own heartbreak. It doesn’t feel real and it’s really hard to let go but i guess that’s just the way life goes.

I know i was a dick, Rafe. I had too many flaws to count but as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. You’ll always be my first love. You were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, a storm that left me shattered but alive. Your love had impact me deeply, it is carved in my soul. No matter where we are, i want you to know that I’ll carry the past and the weight of my mistakes with me. Trust me, it will always, haunt me.

I regret every second for not treating you well, for not being the person you needed. Lastly, i want you to know that I still, truly, deeply, love you, I’m sorry.

*Ding* you heard the bell rings. You rush downstairs to answer the door.

“Pizza delivery”, says the delivery boy standing in front of you. You almost forgot you ordered one, an hour ago. You take your prepaid alfredo chicken pizza and thank him. It was Rafe’s favourite pizza, you’re not sure if it’s still his favourite though. After shutting the door, you walk to your kitchen.

Just two seconds later, *ding* the bell rings again. Did the delivery boy forget anything? You thought.

You open the door, “yes-“ you pause. You couldn’t believe it, standing right in front of you,

“Topper?”

“Topper what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice laced with confusion.

He then steps aside and reveals a man behind him, lying on the steps of your porch- a man whose silhouette you’d recognize anywhere. “Rafe,” you whisper.

“Shit I’m sorry to bother you but this dumbass got into an accident for driving while he’s high,” Topper blurts out, panickly.

Your brow furrowing and your confusion deepens. You walk closer to Rafe and spot the blood dripping from his head, “Accident? What? Then why do you bring him here instead of the hospital?” You ask, your voice sharp, slicing through the chaos of the moment.

“He won’t let me. He insisted I bring him here to see you,” Topper explains.

“Y/n,” Rafe speaks up, his voice low and strained.

Your heart skips a beat. It’s like the universe has stopped spinning again. This is the first time you hear him calling your name after two whole years.

“Hey Rafe, you’re bleeding,” you say, your voice mix with feelings.

“I’m fine,” he says, giving a soft, disarming smile while trying to sit up.

You instruct Topper to go find some cloth to stop the bleeding. As he dissapears, you sit on your knees facing to Rafe, “Rafe, what happened? Why are you here?” you ask, still have no clue of what’s going on here.

“I wanted to see you,” he replies, putting on that damn smile again, the one that’s always managed to unravel you. “I miss you, y/n.”

Your face goes pale, your eyes widens, the words hang in the hair, heavy and unexpected. “Rafe, you’re drunk,” you accuse, trying to make sense of what’s happening right now.

“No, I’m not, i swear I’m very conscious right now,” he insists, his voice firm. You’re still not sure if he’s telling the truth or not. “I really miss you, y/n,” he continues, his voice low but still clear for you to hear it.

Your heart aches, torn between disbelief and the undeniable pull of his words. “How hard did you hit your head? God, you’re still bleeding. We need to see a doctor,” you say, trying to stand up, but he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.

“Stop it, I’m fine i swear…this is nothing,” he says waving off the concern. Just then, Topper returns with a towel in his hand. He hands the towel to you and says, “dude, are you sure you’re okay? When i saw your car there were smokes everywhere. Looks like you hit that tree pretty hard,” his voice fill with concern.

“I’m fine Top, just go. I need to talk to y/n,” Rafe says with a dismissive wave. Topper hesitates, he looks at you for confirmation as if you’re the one in charge here. You nod at him, signalling an approval, “s’okay Top i can handle this.”

“Okay, just call me if anything happens,” he says. “Thank you,” you mutter softly to Topper as he’s leaving towards his car.

With Topper gone, you shift your focus back to Rafe. You take the towel and start dabbing on the blood on his forehead, “we still need to get this stitched up,” you say. Rafe then grabs your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, “look at me,” he demands.

You look at him straight in the eyes, drowning in his blue eyes. It’s overwhelming- staring at the man that you love but no longer yours.

“I do mean what i said, i miss you y/n and i wanted to see you,” he says, his tone steady and sure.

“But why now?” You ask, your voice breaking under the weight of the question.

“Sar..Sarah told me tonight that you’ve been writing letters about me. She found them stashed under your bed,” he says, hesitantly.

Your stomach drops and you shake your head in disbelief, “God…i knew it there was something wrong. She was acting so weird when she left this morning,” you mutter.

“So it’s true? You’ve been writing about me?”

Your face is turning red, you’re struggling to find the words. “I- yes…I’ve been writing letters. Pretending like I’m gonna send it to you but i never do,” you stutter.

“Why didn’t you just send them?” He presses, his voice low, almost pleading.

“You know why Rafe…you’ve moved on. You blocked me few months after we broke up. You’re thriving now with your job, you got your whole life together, and I- I was the reason why we broke up. I can’t just crawl my way back into your life like nothing happened,” you shatter, your voice breaking as you’re struggling to control your tears.

Rafe shakes his head. He brushes his thumb over your knuckles and kisses it. “You’re wrong y/n, you’re absolutely wrong. I’ve been doing nothing over the past two years except than trying to forget about you. That’s why I’ve been doing all these jobs, thinking it could distract me, but no,” he shakes his head again. “Nothing could make me stop thinking about you.”

His confession leaves you breathless, your tears streaming down your face as he continues. “About the blocking and disappearing, I’m really sorry, I was a coward. The truth is, that day i came to your house to apologize. Then, as I stood outside, i saw you were laughing with jj through your window. I knew you guys were not together cause after jj left, I may or may not have confronted him…” he then mouthed sorry. “But then, I remember the way you looked so happy when you’re with him. At that time, I knew I had to let you go cause you deserve someone better and you deserve to be happy so that’s why I blocked you..as if that makes any difference.”

You idiot,” you scoff. “I never wanted anyone else, only you Rafe, only you. You’re the only one who could truly make me happy.”

His eyes glisten, his smile soft and hesitant. “Please forgive me y/n, I swear I’m a better person now and I love- I love you, so much. I still do.”

You reach up, caress his cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “I love you too Rafe,” you whisper. He cups your face and returns the kiss. The kiss is passionate, slow and tender. His lip is so soft and only god knows how much you miss this. The world fades around you, leaving only the two of you, two broken pieces finding their way back to each other.

You pull away from his face and let out a giggle. “Why are you laughing?” He asks, can’t help but let out a soft giggle too.

“Before you came I was actually writing another letter for you,” you admit, a shy smile appears on your face.

“Oh really? Tell me about it baby,” he smirks. Your smile widens at the sound of the nickname that rolls out from his mouth. “Mm I miss that. You, calling me baby. Anyways, it’s in my room, wanna come in?” You ask.

He shakes his head, pulling you closer as he leans back against the stairs railing. “Hmm in a bit sweetheart, you can tell me here while we stargaze. I missed your porch- and mostly you, of course,” he replies with a faint smile.

So you do. You talk to him about the letter while your head rest on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined. “Lastly I wrote, I love you, I’m sorry,” you say, explaining the last content of the letter. But then, you realise he has gone quiet. His stillness unsettling. You glance up to him, “Rafe?” He’s not responding. You check his pulse but there is none. Panic sets in as you shake him, calling his name.

“Rafe”

“Rafe, wake up”

“Wake up!”

“Wake up!”

“Y/n”

“Y/n”

“Y/n, wake up”

You gasp, your heart is pounding like a drum. You’re sweating all over your body as reality crashes down. It was a nightmare.

“Hey..baby you okay?” You turn your head to your right and realise it’s Rafe. He’s okay, he’s alive and he’s sitting on the bed next to you. Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

“Is it the nightmare again?” He asks. You nod, signalling him that he’s right.

“It’s okay baby I got you. Here, come back to sleep,” he says, gently pulling you into his arms. You smile and cuddle him, clinging to the illusion of safety his embrace provides. You close your eyes again trying to fall back to sleep till your alarm suddenly rings.

You wake up with a tear running down your cheek. You hit the snooze button and realise that was a dream and this time, it’s the true reality. You look to the other side of your bed, it’s empty. It always has been for quite a while now. The truth is, that night after Rafe collapsed, you called for an ambulance. On the way to the hospital, they try everything to make his heart beat again, but nothing works. It was too late. He had lost too many blood before that you weren’t aware of and that same night, Rafe had died in your arms.

It’s been 3 years since the tragic. You keep having the same dream almost every night. Part of you is grateful that you and Rafe had ended in good terms but another part of you knows that the truth is you’ll never get the chance to redeem yourself and be a better partner. There’s nothing remaining other than the memories that will haunt you forever.

Rafe, if you’re hearing this, I love you, I’m sorry.

Like and reblog if you want to kys after reading this😇☺️

[postsforposting]

i'm surprised i've never seen anyone say that, because they didn't design the system, therefore nothing they choose to do is their fault and isn't a moral statement.

the whole point is that it's simple. simplistic. and yet we can't find an answer to even the simplest question. people keep changing it to make themselves feel better about it. it's common that people won't even engage with it, as if denying it is a solution. i guess that is a form of "this isn't my fault or my problem". if you act, you "take responsibility" for it all.

are you responsible? how much? does changing the parameters from a lever to shoving matter, and why? does it matter if you designed the system or not? why does it matter who the people are or how they got there?

life isn't fair and people don't like confronting that. there MUST be an out that leaves you unambiguously the good person. that's the just world fallacy: if only you can figure out how things work, nothing bad will ever happen to you, nothing bad will ever happen to anyone again, you'll never do anything bad again. you'll never deserve to be on the tracks, you'll never be forced onto them.

except that's a childish fantasy and life isn't fair. all you can do is try to make it more fair, which is the whole point of the question: what does that mean? why does bitching about it matter, when all that does is put moral paint over it to deny responsibility and thus consequences? why are there consequences when all you did was try to help? why is your trying to help nitpicked as if you designed the circumstances?

The root of my frustration with a lot of trolley problem discourse is that 'What does it mean to act ethically in a world where shitty luck and the actions of strangers you'll never meet have left you without any purely good options?' is, like, possibly one of the most relevant and universally applicable questions moral philosophy might help answer.

Saying it's a bad question because it's the negligent trolley engineer's fault literally exactly misses the point - yes how to deal on a personal level with systems and infrastructure that designed without much care for human collateral damage is an incredibly useful thing to think about!

[myth1cs]

Deal of Lust (Im Nayeon x M!Reader)

Remastered version of my first smut because it SUCKS. (I'll give Nayeon a new smut ... eventually ... maybe)

Word Count: 1,309

Walking into school you walked around with caution making sure you didn't bump into a certain someone.

You were almost to your first period class but before you reached it you were grabbed and brought into an empty classroom.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you were trying to avoid me."

"What no, I'm just really tired."

"Mhm, Anyways Y/N I trust you did my pre-calculus work."

"Actually I was studying for my exam last night so I wasn't able to finish it."

"You piece of shit!"

Nayeon smacked you and you fell to the floor. She grabbed you by your hair and lifted your head up.

"It's due today. Since you didn't finish it your going to pay."

Nayeon was about to hit you and you raised your hand in order to block her punch but before she hit you the sound of the doorknob twisting made Nayeon let go of you.

"Is there someone in here?"

The person who stepped through the door was the president of student council Park Jihyo.

"Oh Y/N you're so clumsy you have to stop falling down." Nayeon started caressing your face and helped you stand up.

"What are you guys doing in here?"

"Me and Y/N wanted to study on our own so we came in here. We were just about to leave but Y/N tripped and fell to the floor."

"Is this true Y/N."

You looked at Jihyo wanting to tell the truth but when you turned to look at Nayeon she gave you a "I'll kill you if you tell her." look.

"Yeah, I fell down I'm kinda clumsy like that."

"Okay well you guys can't be in a classroom without a teacher present so I'm advising you guys to go to the library if you want to study."

"Understood president Park, it won't happen again. Right Y/N?"

"R-right."

Once you all left the room Nayeon waited for Jihyo to be out of sight before she spoke to you.

"You're lucky she came in when she did. Have my homework done by 5th period or you'll regret it, got that?"

"Yes Nayeon."

She turned around and walked to her first period class leaving you in the hallway.

"Damn it why do I let myself get pushed around by her?"

Im Nayeon was the popular girl in school. Even saying that is an understatement she is what many saw as the person every student should aspire to be like. However you're the only one who knows the "real" Nayeon.

Once she realized you were the highest performing in school she started bullying you into doing her work and giving her test answers. She used the threat of beating your ass to keep you in check.

Reporting her would do nothing as everyone including staff had a false view of her and wouldn't take you seriously so you never bothered to do so.

You really wanted to finish her homework to avoid being punished but you were busy in every class. 1st period you had the exam you were studying for last night, 2nd period you had to work on a lab, 3rd period you were working on a project, and 4th period you had to help your art teacher set up for an after school event in the gym.

As the bell for fifth period came you tried to get to your class as fast as possible before Nayeon could find you. You settled for the longer path to your class assuming that Nayeon would assume you would take the shorter path to get to your class quicker.

However you didn't anticipate that she would correctly guess your actions and you saw her standing in the hallway as you turned the corner. "Oh shit!"

You tried turning around to run but before you could Nayeon grabbed you and brought you into the janitors closet.

"Where's my homework loser?"

"I don't have it!"

"Is that so? You know what happens now."

"No wait Nayeon please I'll do anything! Just please don't hit me."

"Anything I want?"

"Yes! Anything, just please don't hit me."

Nayeon grabbed your chin and made you face her. Laying your eyes on her you felt as if her demeanor changed from the one that was present just a moment earlier.

"You know Y/N there is one way you could make it up to me."

She put her fingers on the waistband of her pants and pulled her pants down.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Once her pants were all the way down you noticed her pink pantie she was wearing but quickly averted your eyes.

"What's wrong Y/N? Do you not like what you see?"

You were unable to say to get words out of your mouth but eventually you were able to muster out a sentence "Please put your clothes back on."

"Don't be such a baby Y/N. Now look at me or I'll punish you."

Turning around to look at Nayeon you tried your best to focus on her face but you couldn't help yourself from trying to get a quick glance at her pantie.

"Go on Y/N stare at my clothed pussy." She put her finger inside her pantie and started to finger herself.

You watched her finger herself and felt your cock grow.

"Y/N if you fuck my pussy everyday then I'll stop bullying you."

"R-really?" You were surprised that her compromise was really lewd.

"Is that a yes or should I beat your face in now?"

Well who were you to deny her?

Walking up to Nayeon you pushed her to the wall and lowered yourself so you were facing her pantie.

"Go on give yourself a better view Y/N."

Putting your fingers on her pantie and dragging it down you got a clear view of Nayeon's wet pussy. Without hesitation you inserted your tongue into her pussy. She let out loud moans but covered her mouth quickly as to not draw attention to the closet both of you were in.

"Gah ~ ah ~ ah"

Hearing the noises coming from her made you want to go faster. You lapped every single inch of her pussy you could get your tongue on.

Nayeon took her shirt off and made quick work of her bra. Her breasts were now out in full display. She started to pinch and twist her nipples for further stimulation.

Pulling out of her sweet pussy you went up and kissed her letting her get a taste of herself. "Mhm ~ you're such a good kisser Y/N."

You reached for her pussy with your fingers and fingered Nayeon. She moaned into your mouth and you decided to explore her mouth with your tongue.

Nayeon felt overstimulated from everything she was experiencing and ended up cumming all over your fingers. So much cum came out that some dripped onto the floor.

"Agh ~ Y/N ... so ... good."

You licked the fluid she sprayed on your fingers: licking every last drop. "Do I taste good Y/N?"

"Yes Nayeon you taste amazing."

"Lucky for you you'll be able to taste this every day."

....

"Should we leave?"

"Probably not school staff is likely roaming the hallways looking for us since we haven't reported to our fifth period."

"So what now Nayeon?"

"We could just fuck until sixth period."

No words needed to be exchanged for her to know that you wanted to take her up on that offer.

The janitors closet was once again filled with moans for the rest of the period.

...

Jihyo was making her way to the bathroom and was passing by the janitors closet when she heard a moan. It was low but loud enough for her to hear.

She slowly crept towards it and laid on the floor to look inside from the crack under the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I prefer this over what I wrote originally. I'd like to think I've improved since I started writing and hopefully that continues.

[endearng]

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

My Favorite Thing

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Your comfort item gets lost on a hunt, and the boys try to help you

“Stop the car!”

Dean slammed on the breaks, turning the Impala to the side of the road before whipping around in his seat to see what was wrong.

“What happened? Are you hurt? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Willow!” You exclaimed. “We have to go back to the motel!”

“Jeez, kid.” Dean let out a huge sigh of relief. “I thought you were dying or something. Don’t scare me like that!”

“We have to go back, it’s an emergency!”

“Kid, your little toy thing is not an emergency,” Dean said.

“Are you sure you didn’t just leave it in your other bag?” Sam asked.

“Yes I’m sure, I always put it right here, and it’s gone!”

“It can’t be at the motel,” Dean argued. “I remember you had it right before we went after that vamp. You must’ve lost it on the hunt.”

“Well then we have to go find it. Please, Dean,” you begged.

Dean sighed, swinging the Impala into a u-turn. “Let’s see if we can find it.”

…

Two hours later, and still no luck.

“Kiddo, we’ve gotta get going,” Dean spoke up reluctantly. “There’s a case in the next state over and we really should try to get there before dark—“

“We can’t just give up!” You cried.

“We looked everywhere honey,” Sam cut in. “There’s nothing else we can do. Maybe we can find you another—“

“No, no you can’t just find another one!” You yelled. “You don’t get it, you don’t even care!” You were racing away from the boys before either of them had a chance to respond.

“What was that?” Dean demanded.

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “But she was headed toward the Impala. Let’s go.”

…

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean’s greeting did nothing to pull you out from the way you’d cocooned yourself in the Impala’s backseat.

Sam eased the door open and slid in next to you, patting your knee that was curled up against your chest.

“N/N, talk to us. You ok?”

“Dad gave it to me.” Your voice came out in a high-pitched whimper. “And I lost it.”

“Oh kid…” Dean climbed into the front of the Impala, reaching over the back of the seat and tilting your chin up. “Dad would understand, ok? It’s ok.”

“No it’s not!” You sniffled. “You have the Impala, and Sam has dad’s journal…I don’t have anything of his. I wanted to at least keep something he gave me.”

Dean suddenly slipped out of the Impala, but you didn’t have time to notice it because Sam spoke up.

“Honey, it’s not about the stuff he left behind. He taught you so much that you’re gonna carry with you, and you don’t need a toy to remember that.”

“I…I guess,” you sniffled. “But I wanted it.”

“Commere…” Sam pulled you into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find it. I know that meant a lot to you.”

“Here it is—“ Dean’s voice caught your attention as he returned, holding a bundle that he’d retrieved from the trunk. “I think dad would want you to have this.” Dean pressed the fabric into your hands, and you held it up to reveal John Winchester’s favorite jacket.

“It’s never gonna fit,” you argued dubiously.

“Who cares?” Dean shrugged. “I heard jackets six sizes too big are the trend now.”

You giggled through your tears as you slipped your arms through the massive sleeves. The sleeves hung down several inches past your fingers, but you didn’t seem to mind as you hugged the fabric around you.

“Thanks, Dean,” you said.

Dean grinned.

“Any time, kid.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz @johannelis2302nely @studiogrimm810

[firestarter91]

I utterly adore this episode, it’s probably my favourite, it’s got so much Merthur goodness in but it’s also got moments for all the cast to shine which is unusual (Uther, Gwen, Morgana, Gaiius - they all get a look in).

However, the one thing that has allways got me was how both boys were prepared to sacrifice so much for each other within such a short time of meeting each other. It was probably a few months may be if that? I thought the episode was perfection aside from that nagging feeling that they advanced Merthur a bit too quickly to feel naturalistic but then this is a fantasy show and so I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.

Sadly they rowed back on the relationship in season 2, in fact they made it worse which upset me. It’s almost as if the writers realised they had moved too fast too soon and were tying to walk back the deep connection they seemed to have forged. Either that or they just wanted to remind people coming to the show in season 2 about season 1 and the way things had sarted but this never made sense to me, if you've been watching the show you should remember basically what happened, if you can't remember you'll soon catch up lol.

Merlin Was Truly Willing To Die For Arthur From The Start

Okay, I know we talk about The Poisoned Chalice all the time, and how gay it is, but I don’t think any of us truly acknowledges how fucking insane Merlin is. Please consider this.

Merlin drinks the poison not knowing:

what kind of poison it is

how lethal it is

how fast acting it is

if it has a cure

if the cure is something Gaius can make

if the cure is something Gaius can make fast enough to save him

What the hell was Merlin's plan?

He would have died. It's arguable that he does die, but his immortality brought him back.

Gaius couldn't make the cure the key ingredient was in a dangerous location and difficult to get to

the poison was magically enhanced it was enhanced by Nimueh to act faster than normal, effectively cutting their timetable in half

Arthur could've been prevented from going after his fight with Uther, he only decides to go possibly hours later, after talking to Morgana

Arthur would've died without Merlin's aid, he would have died in that cave and the cure never would've made it back

it was already too late Arthur gets the flower back, but he gets arrested and locked up, the flower gets crushed, and only gets to Merlin after Guinevere sneaks in and Arthur hides it in the food

the cure required magic Gaius had to use magic to activate the cure, so if he couldn't have gotten Guinevere out of the room, he couldn't have used it, and there was a strong possibility that he wouldn't have had the strength to do it because of the lack of practice

Merlin possibly died anyway he's immortal, and his breathing and heartbeat stop for a significant amount of time before he wakes up; I've written about it being possible that he's able to die and come back to life

So if Merlin was mortal, he would have died, and there was no way for him to know that they would be able to cure him prior to drinking the poison.

He had known Arthur for maybe a month if we're being generous. They were still on rough, getting-to-know-each-other terms. Merlin was still adamantly opposed to the whole "destiny" thing. Despite all of that, he willingly drank that poison without any hesitation.

That is fucking insane.

[mywhisperingwords]

never will be | fred g. weasley

summary: if one more person called fred your boyfriend, you were going to hex them—and then probably yourself for wishing it were true word count: 5.8k masterlist

“Seriously, though,” Angelina said, leaning against the Gryffindor common room sofa with a sly grin, “when are you two finally going to admit it?”

“Admit what?” Fred asked, looking up from the deck of Exploding Snap cards he was shuffling.

“That you’re dating,” George chimed in from across the room, tossing a chocolate frog wrapper into the fire.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. “For the hundredth time, we’re not dating.”

“Not yet, at least,” Angelina muttered, smirking at you.

Fred laughed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Don’t listen to them. They’re just bored and trying to start drama.”

George snorted. “Says the bloke who can’t go two hours without dragging her off to help with one of his pranks.”

“That’s because she’s got steady hands,” Fred argued, flashing you a grin that made your stomach flip. “Best partner-in-crime I could ask for.”

“Mm-hmm,” George said, exchanging a knowing look with Angelina.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks but forced a casual laugh. “Exactly. Partners-in-crime. Nothing more.”

Fred’s grin widened, oblivious to the way your voice faltered on the last words.

Later that evening, as you sat in your usual spot in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, his long legs stretching out in front of him.

George and Angelina had finally left you alone, their laughter about your so-called “relationship” fading into the background.

Fred tossed a bright green bean into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Honestly, they’re relentless. Next thing you know, they’ll be planning our wedding.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, definitely. George would insist on fireworks during the vows.”

“And Angelina would probably hex the cake to explode in my face,” Fred added, grinning.

“Not that you wouldn’t deserve it,” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Fred gasped dramatically. “Me? Deserve it? Please, I’d be the perfect groom. You, on the other hand…”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

Fred smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You’d probably spend the entire ceremony arguing with me about the flowers or the seating arrangements.”

“Only because you’d insist on something ridiculous, like having a Quidditch match instead of a reception,” you shot back, laughing.

“See? Proves my point,” Fred said, throwing another bean into his mouth.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips. The conversation was silly, but it sent a pang through your chest all the same. For a moment, you wondered—what if it weren’t so ridiculous? What if you weren’t just friends?

“Guess it’s a good thing we’d never actually be a couple,” you said lightly, testing the waters.

Fred snorted, not catching the slight hesitation in your voice. “You’ve got that right. Can you imagine? We’d probably kill each other within a week.”

Your smile faltered for a split second, but you quickly recovered, laughing along with him. “True. It would be a disaster.”

“An entertaining one, though,” Fred added, grinning at you.

You laughed again, but the ache in your chest lingered as his words played over in your mind. A disaster.

Fred, oblivious, tossed the box of beans onto the table and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, who needs all that relationship nonsense? We’re better off just being us.”

“Right,” you said softly, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “Just us.”

But as you watched Fred lean back, his expression carefree and content, you made a silent decision.

It was time to stop hoping for something that would never happen. It was time to move on.

A couple days later, Fred dropped into the seat next to you in the common room, his typical big grin directed at you. “Fancy sneaking out to the kitchens? I was thinking a snack, but maybe we could even go for a full-course meal if the house-elves are feeling generous.”

You didn’t look up from your book, keeping your voice steady. “Can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.”

Fred tilted his head, frowning. “Plans? With who?”

“Just plans,” you said vaguely, flipping a page.

Fred narrowed his eyes, studying you for a moment, but you didn’t elaborate. Eventually, he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Your loss. More food for me.”

You hummed noncommittally, keeping your gaze fixed on the words in front of you.

Later that evening, Fred was sprawled on the sofa near the fire, George and Lee arguing over a card game beside him. Angelina sauntered in, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail.

“Oi, Ang,” Fred called, waving her over. “What’s she up to tonight?”

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who. She said she had plans.”

Angelina hesitated for half a second before smirking. “She’s got a date.”

Fred blinked, the words not registering immediately. “A date?”

“Yeah,” Angelina said, sitting on the arm of the sofa. “With that bloke from Ravenclaw—what’s his name? Aaron? Aiden?”

“Andrew,” George supplied helpfully, grinning.

“Right. Andrew,” Angelina said, crossing her arms. “Apparently, he’s been asking her out for ages, and she finally said yes.”

Fred frowned, a strange tightness forming in his chest. “Huh.”

George glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Fred?”

“No,” Fred said quickly, shaking his head. “Why would there be?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, who raised an amused eyebrow. But neither of them said anything, much to Fred’s relief.

Meanwhile you were trying your best to focus on Andrew as he told you about his latest Quidditch practice. He was charming, handsome, and undeniably kind. Exactly the type of person you should be going out with.

But as much as you tried to stay engaged, your mind kept wandering. His laugh wasn’t quite as infectious. His jokes weren’t quite as sharp. And when he leaned in slightly to brush his hand against yours, your chest didn’t flutter the way you wanted it to.

You forced a smile, reminding yourself why you were here. Andrew had always been good to you, and after Fred’s clear rejection, it was time to stop holding onto something that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you alright?” Andrew asked, his voice soft as he studied your face.

“Yes,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter. “Sorry, just a bit distracted. It’s been a long week.”

Andrew smiled, his eyes warm. “I get it. I’m glad you said yes, though. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.”

You felt a pang of guilt but managed another smile. “Me too.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie. Andrew deserved a chance, and you were determined to give it to him.

Still, as the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but wonder what Fred was doing. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the thought that you wished he were sitting across from you instead.

You had done your best to steer clear of Fred over the past few days. You weren’t sure why, if someone dared to ask. Maybe you wanted to avoid telling him about your date or maybe talking to Fred would force you to acknowledge that moving on was harder than you thought.

It wasn’t easy, avoiding Fred, considering he had a knack for showing up everywhere you didn’t want him to be.

And, naturally, today was no exception.

“Oi!” Fred’s voice rang out from behind you as you made your way down the hallway after class. “Wait up!”

You considered pretending not to hear him, but the sound of his footsteps catching up told you there was no escaping this time.

“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside you. His usual grin was in place, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Been avoiding me or something?”

You gave a half-hearted laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just… busy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Busy with what? Or should I say who?”

Your stomach twisted at the question, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Angelina mentioned you went on a date,” Fred said, his tone light and teasing, though his eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Figured you’d be too busy swooning over this Andrew bloke to hang out with your real friends.”

You rolled your eyes, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. “It was just a date, Fred. No swooning involved.”

Fred tilted his head, studying you. “Come on. Spill. What’s he like? Is he as funny as me? Doubt it.”

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you searched his face for any hint of jealousy, any sign that this conversation bothered him. But Fred’s grin was firmly in place, his tone casual and carefree.

“He’s nice,” you said finally, keeping your voice even. “Really nice.”

Fred’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before returning. “Nice, huh? That’s a glowing review.”

You shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. “What else do you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” Fred said, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe that he’s secretly boring or has terrible taste in music. Something I can mock him for.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, but it quickly faded as the tension in your chest tightened.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Well, if he’s so bloody great, maybe we should invite him to hang out with us sometime.”

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes narrowing. “Are you serious?”

Fred shrugged, his grin turning lopsided. “Why not? He could use a proper Weasley test. See if he can keep up.”

You shook your head, muttering under your breath. “You’re impossible.”

Fred watched you closely, his grin slipping just enough to reveal the confusion beneath it. He didn’t know why the thought of you with Andrew left a sour taste in his mouth, but he was determined to ignore it.

Maybe it was just because he didn’t know the guy. Or because he didn’t want to lose his favorite partner-in-crime to some bloke from Ravenclaw. That had to be it.

Definitely not because he cared more than he should.

&

The common room buzzed with its usual post-dinner chaos. Fred was in his element, loudly challenging George to an Exploding Snap rematch after a questionable loss earlier, when you walked in with Andrew.

Fred’s laughter faltered for half a second, but he quickly covered it up with a grin. “Well, well, look who decided to join us. Ravenclaw royalty.”

“Hi, Fred,” you said, your voice neutral but carrying an edge of warning.

Andrew smiled politely, clearly unfazed. “Hey. I thought I’d take you up on your offer to hang out.”

“Brave of you,” Fred quipped, gesturing to the chaos around him. “We’re not exactly Ravenclaw standards of refined.”

Andrew chuckled. “I can handle it.”

George appeared beside Fred, grinning broadly. “Andrew, right? You’re the Quidditch guy. Chaser, yeah?”

“That’s me,” Andrew said, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Always nice to have another flyer in the group,” George said, clapping him on the back. “Ignore Fred if he gets too annoying.”

“Oi!” Fred protested, but George was already leading Andrew to the sofa, chatting about brooms and game strategies.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Play nice,” you muttered as you passed Fred, taking a seat near Angelina and Lee.

Fred watched as Andrew settled into the group, answering questions and laughing at everyone’s jokes with ease. His jaw tightened when Angelina leaned over to whisper, “He’s charming, isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Fred said, his voice flat.

An hour later, everyone seemed to be getting along swimmingly—except Fred.

He wasn’t outright rude to Andrew, but his usual teasing had a sharper edge tonight. Every time Andrew spoke, Fred had a quick quip or an exaggerated eye roll.

When Andrew mentioned his house winning the latest match, Fred chimed in with, “Ravenclaw’s strategy, isn’t it? Win the game, lose the fun.”

George elbowed Fred, but Andrew only laughed. “We take Quidditch seriously. Some of us, at least.”

Fred grinned tightly. “Right. Because fun has no place in sports.”

“Okay,” you interjected, cutting through the growing tension. “Who wants snacks? I’ll get some from the kitchens.”

“I’ll help,” Andrew offered, standing up.

You hesitated, glancing briefly at Fred before nodding. “Sure. Let’s go.”

After you and Andrew left the common room, Fred slumped back into his chair, muttering something under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” George asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Problem? I don’t have a problem,” Fred said quickly.

“Sure you don’t,” Angelina said, smirking as she leaned against the armrest. “You’re only acting like a jealous git.”

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Please. I just think he’s boring.”

George chuckled. “Yeah, he’s awful. Friendly, charming, loves Quidditch—how dare he?”

Fred scowled but didn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the door you’d just walked through.

When you and Andrew returned, the evening had mostly calmed down. Fred kept to himself, though his eyes followed you whenever you weren’t looking.

As the group began to disband for the night, Andrew turned to you, his smile warm and easy. “I had a great time the other night. Do you think you’d want to do it again? Soon?”

Fred’s head snapped up at Andrew’s words, but he quickly looked away, pretending to fidget with his deck of cards.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering to Fred for just a moment. His usual grin was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and averted eyes. Ignoring him and the little voice in the back of your mind, you turned back to Andrew.

“Sure,” you said with a smile. “I’d like that.”

Andrew’s grin widened. “Great. I’ll find you tomorrow to figure out the details.”

You nodded, and as Andrew left, you glanced back at Fred one last time. He was shuffling his cards with unnecessary force, avoiding your gaze entirely. Weird.

Over the next couple of weeks, your relationship with Andrew began to take shape. Slowly but surely, he worked his way into your life.

He wasn’t overly pushy or demanding, which you appreciated, and he had a way of making you laugh—though not quite as effortlessly as Fred could.

Still, it felt nice to have someone show genuine interest in you, even if the spark you were hoping for wasn’t quite there yet.

Of course, Andrew didn’t just win you over—he charmed everyone.

“Well, he’s bloody polite,” George said one evening after Andrew left the common room. “And he brought snacks. Can’t argue with that.”

Angelina nodded in agreement. “He’s sweet. You picked a good one.”

“Of course she did,” Fred muttered, slumping lower in his chair.

Lee gave Fred a side-eye. “You alright, mate? You’ve been acting off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Fred said quickly, grabbing a deck of cards and shuffling them with unnecessary vigor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lee raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

The thing was, Fred wasn’t fine.

He didn’t know what it was about Andrew that rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was how the bloke always seemed to be around now, sitting beside you in the common room or leaning in too close when you laughed at one of his jokes.

Fred told himself it was just the newness of it all. You’d always been his person—his partner-in-crime, his go-to for pranks, his late-night snack accomplice. And now Andrew was stealing you away.

It was irritating.

But Fred wasn’t jealous. Definitely not.

One afternoon, the group decided to head down to the lake to take advantage of the rare sunny weather.

Andrew and George carried the food, Angelina and Lee brought the blankets, and you walked ahead with Fred, your pace slowing as you chatted.

“So,” Fred said casually, kicking a stone along the path, “how’s Prince Charming?”

You gave him a look. “He has a name, you know.”

“Right. Andy.”

“Andrew,” you corrected, rolling your eyes.

“Same thing,” Fred said with a shrug.

You sighed. “He’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Fred said, though his tone was anything but casual. “Just wondering how long he plans to stick around.”

“Why? You planning to scare him off?” you asked, your voice teasing but laced with curiosity.

Fred grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before you could respond, Andrew called your name from behind, jogging to catch up with you.

Fred fell silent, his jaw tightening as Andrew slipped into step beside you, his hand brushing yours as he walked.

By the time you reached the lake, Fred was thoroughly annoyed.

As everyone settled on the blankets, Andrew took the spot beside you, leaning close to whisper something that made you laugh. Fred sat across from you, stabbing at his sandwich with unnecessary force.

“You alright there, Fred?” Angelina asked, nudging him with her foot.

“Fine,” Fred said tightly, taking an aggressive bite.

George smirked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t care, you’re awfully bothered.”

Fred glared at his twin but said nothing.

As the sun began to set, Andrew offered to walk you back to the castle, and you accepted with a smile. Fred watched the two of you leave, his chest tightening as your laughter faded into the distance.

“Mate,” George said, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad.”

Fred scowled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” George said with a knowing grin.

If there was one thing Fred Weasley prided himself on, it was his ability to remain unshakable. Cool under pressure. Steady in the face of chaos.

Except, apparently, when Andrew was around.

“I’m just saying,” Fred declared loudly, leaning back in his chair with the kind of dramatic flair that immediately drew everyone’s attention, “no one is that nice. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” Angelina repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” Fred said, gesturing wildly as if this were common knowledge. “No one can laugh at every single joke. Even George’s bad ones.”

“Oi!” George protested, though he was grinning. “My jokes are masterpieces.”

Andrew, seated comfortably next to you, chuckled. “I don’t know, George. That one about the Blast-Ended Skrewts last week was a bit of a stretch.”

Fred’s eyes narrowed. “See? Right there. He’s even polite when he’s being critical. Who does that?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Fred, are you really mad because Andrew is nice?”

“I’m not mad!” Fred insisted, though his tone suggested otherwise. “I’m just… observant. He’s too nice. It’s unnatural.”

“Fred,” Lee said, struggling to keep a straight face, “I think you might be allergic to decent human behavior.”

The group erupted in laughter, and for a moment, even you couldn’t hide your amusement. But Fred wasn’t done yet.

“Mark my words,” Fred continued, pointing dramatically at Andrew, “this whole ‘charming and perfect’ act is going to crack one day. And when it does—”

Andrew held up his hands, laughing lightly. “Alright, you’ve got me. I’ll admit it: I burned toast once. Twice, actually. Sometimes I even leave the cap off the toothpaste.”

“Oh, the horror,” Lee said, clutching his chest mockingly. “Fred, are you sure we’re safe in his presence?”

Fred scowled, muttering something under his breath.

You shot him a look, your patience wearing thin. “Fred, if you’re so bothered by something, maybe you should do something about it.”

Fred blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in your tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, standing to grab a glass of water. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Fred watched you leave the room, the weight of your words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“What’s her problem?” he muttered, glancing at the others.

Angelina snorted. “You’re joking, right?”

Fred frowned. “What?”

George exchanged a look with Lee, barely containing his laughter. “Oh, nothing,” George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with you acting like a jealous prat every time Andrew breathes in her direction.”

“I’m not jealous!” Fred shot back, his voice a little too loud.

“Sure you’re not,” Lee said, patting him on the shoulder.

Angelina leaned forward, her smirk practically glowing. “Fred, has it ever occurred to you that you’re not mad at Andrew? You’re mad because he’s with her, and you’re not.”

Fred opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He shut it again, glaring at the lot of them as they burst into laughter.

“Honestly,” George said, shaking his head. “I’ve seen Blast-Ended Skrewts with more self-awareness.”

Fred groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all useless,” he muttered.

“Hey, we’re just here to point out the obvious,” Lee said with a grin. “The rest is up to you, lover boy.”

&

The Three Broomsticks was warm and bustling with chatter, the kind of lively atmosphere that could distract anyone from their troubles.

Fred leaned back in his chair, nursing a mug of butterbeer, and let the noise wash over him.

It had been weeks since he’d felt this at ease. For once, he wasn’t thinking about Andrew or the way he seemed to occupy every spare moment of your time.

Because, for the first time in a long while, it was just the group—George, Lee, Angelina, you, and him—laughing, joking, and bickering like always. And with you sitting across from him, grinning over the rim of your butterbeer as you teased George about his latest failed prank, Fred felt… content.

Comfortable. Like everything was back to normal.

But then the door to the pub opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure.

Fred’s stomach twisted the moment he saw Andrew.

“Hey, everyone,” Andrew said, his smile easy and confident as he approached the table.

Fred tried to focus on his drink, on George cracking a joke, on literally anything else—but then Andrew leaned down, his hand brushing your shoulder, and kissed you.

It wasn’t long, just a brief, casual kiss on the lips, but it might as well have been a Bludger to Fred’s chest.

The laughter at the table carried on, the others welcoming Andrew like they always did, but Fred barely heard a word. His mind was spinning, his heart racing, and for the first time, he couldn’t keep up the denial.

It wasn’t just irritation. It wasn’t just protectiveness.

It was jealousy.

Pure, undeniable jealousy.

And it wasn’t just because Andrew had you—it was because Fred wanted you.

The realization hit him like a brick wall. Every time you laughed at Andrew’s jokes, every time you brushed his hand with yours, every time you smiled at him with that soft, affectionate look in your eyes—it burned.

Because Fred wanted to be the one making you laugh, holding your hand, earning your smiles.

But it wasn’t him. And now, sitting here, watching Andrew slide into the seat beside you, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, Fred finally understood why it hurt so much.

&

Fred paced the length of the Gryffindor common room like a man possessed, his hands raking through his hair as George, Angelina, and Lee lounged on the sofa, watching with varying degrees of amusement.

“She kissed him,” Fred muttered for the fiftieth time, his voice tinged with both disbelief and frustration.

“Yes, Fred,” Angelina said patiently, not bothering to hide her smirk. “We were all there. You don’t need to recap.”

“But—” Fred turned on his heel, his expression wild. “How did I not see it before? How did none of you tell me?”

George snorted. “Mate, we’ve been dropping hints for years. You’re just thick.”

“Excuse me?” Fred stopped pacing long enough to glare at his twin.

Lee chimed in, grinning. “He’s right, you know. It’s been painfully obvious to everyone but you. Honestly, we were starting to think you’d never figure it out.”

Fred groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his face in his hands. “What am I supposed to do now? She’s happy with Andrew. I can’t just…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You could do nothing,” Angelina suggested, crossing her arms. “Let her be happy. Maybe keep your mouth shut for once in your life.”

Fred glared at her. “Thanks for the support, Ang. Really helpful.”

“I’m just saying,” Angelina continued, shrugging. “If you care about her, maybe you don’t ruin things for her. It’s not about you, Fred.”

George tilted his head. “Or—and hear me out—you could tell her how you feel and let her decide.”

Lee grinned. “Or—and this is my favorite option—you stage an elaborate prank to scare off Andrew, then swoop in as the knight in shining armor.”

Fred groaned again, throwing his head back against the chair. “You’re all useless.”

“Hey, I’m giving you options,” Lee said defensively.

“Yeah,” George added. “And Angelina’s just saying what she’d do if she were you. Personally, I think you should grow a pair and tell her the truth.”

Fred shot him a look. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Angelina said, her tone softer now. “But you’ve got to figure it out, Fred. Otherwise, you’re just going to keep driving yourself—and the rest of us—mad.”

The sound of the portrait hole opening drew their attention, and there you were, stepping inside with your bag slung over one shoulder and a slight frown on your face.

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately sat up straighter, trying to look normal—which, of course, only made him look even more suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you asked, glancing between the group and Fred’s suspiciously guilty expression.

“Fine!” Fred said quickly, his voice a little too loud.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push, instead walking over to your usual spot by the fire. You dropped your bag on the floor and pulled out a stack of parchment, rifling through it with a small, frustrated sigh.

Fred couldn’t take his eyes off you. It wasn’t anything special—just you being you—but the way your hair caught the firelight, the tiny furrow in your brow as you concentrated, the way you bit your lip when something didn’t go right…

In that moment, Fred knew.

Knew that no one else would ever make him feel the way you did. Knew that no one else would ever measure up to you. Knew that he couldn’t keep this to himself anymore.

Now he just had to figure out how to tell you.

“Merlin, he’s gone,” George muttered, nudging Angelina. “Look at him.”

Fred ignored them, his mind racing as he tried to think of something—anything—to say. But for once in his life, words failed him.

Fred had never been one to overthink things. Usually, he went with his gut, said whatever was on his mind, and dealt with the consequences later. But when it came to you, every plan he came up with seemed doomed from the start.

The first time he tried, it was on the way to Charms. He’d spotted you walking ahead, your bag slung over one shoulder and your hair bouncing as you moved. His heart did that stupid thing where it sped up, and before he could stop himself, he called your name.

“Hey,” you said, slowing to let him catch up.

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly feeling like his tongue had turned to lead.

You smiled at him, that warm, easy smile that made his chest ache. “What’s up?”

Fred opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Andrew appeared from the other direction.

“There you are,” Andrew said, grinning as he slipped an arm around your waist.

Fred’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Right. See you in class,” he mumbled, walking off before either of you could reply.

The second attempt came during a group study session in the library.

Fred had been unusually quiet, his eyes darting to you every few seconds. You were sitting across from him, absently twirling your quill as you read over your notes.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, leaning forward.

You looked up, tilting your head. “Yeah?”

“I—”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed from across the room, glaring at Fred like he’d just set one of her precious books on fire.

Fred sighed, leaning back in his chair as George smirked beside him. “Smooth,” George muttered under his breath.

The third time wasn’t even his fault.

He’d waited until you were alone in the common room, curled up in your usual chair by the fire. It was late, and most of the others had gone to bed, leaving the room quiet and cozy.

Fred took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he approached. “Hey, can we talk?”

You looked up at him, your expression soft but curious. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

Fred hesitated, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue. This was it. He just had to say it.

But before he could, Lee burst into the room, laughing loudly about something George had apparently done. The noise startled both of you, and whatever fragile moment had been building between you vanished in an instant.

Fred sighed, watching as you smiled politely at Lee’s antics before heading upstairs to your dorm.

Meanwhile, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Andrew was as kind and attentive as ever, but your heart wasn’t fully in it. You caught yourself zoning out during conversations, your mind drifting to memories of late-night laughs and pranks with Fred.

Andrew noticed.

“You’ve been a bit distant lately,” he said one evening as you sat together by the lake. His tone was calm but serious, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, though you weren’t sure what you were apologizing for.

Andrew smiled faintly, shaking his head. “We should talk. Really talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with unease and the underlying feeling of already knowing what was about to come.

&

The rain fell steadily, soaking through your cloak and chilling you to the bone, but you didn’t care. After your conversation with Andrew, you’d needed space to think, to feel, to breathe.

That was why you stayed in the same spot he left you in, even when it began to pour.

But tonight, the storm wasn’t just inside.

The sound of footsteps on the dock pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see Fred, his red hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his clothes.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice carrying over the rain.

Fred shoved his hands into his pockets, looking equal parts frustrated and relieved. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You shrugged, turning your gaze back to the water. “Needed to think.”

Fred hesitated, then stepped closer, the wood creaking under his weight. “And you couldn’t think inside? Where it’s dry?”

You huffed a laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Guess not.”

An awkward silence stretched between you as the rain continued to fall. Fred shifted on his feet, clearly trying to work up the courage to say something.

He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he blurted finally, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You’re out here in the rain, and I’m the idiot who followed you, and… Merlin, I don’t even know where to start.”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression guarded. “Then don’t.”

Fred shook his head. “No, I have to. Because—because you drive me mad. You’re all I can think about, and it’s infuriating because I don’t even know when it started, but it’s just… there. All the time.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice.

“You know, Andrew is… perfect, really. Kind, understanding. Says all the right things. And he’s right. He’s everything I should want.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “If he’s so perfect, then why are you out here? With me?”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Why, if Andrew’s so perfect, are you standing out here in the rain with me instead of him?” Fred pressed, his voice soft but insistent.

Your chest ached, and before you could stop yourself, the truth spilled out. “Because he’s not you, Fred! He never was.”

Fred stared at you, his breath hitching as your words sank in.

You laughed bitterly, swiping at your wet face. “Andrew is kind and caring and everything I should want. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s not you. And that’s why we ended things. He knows he’s not the one I want to be with.”

Fred didn’t move for a moment, as though your words had stunned him. His wide eyes searched yours, raindrops slipping down his face, mingling with the uncertainty you saw flicker there.

But then, something shifted. Determination sparked in his gaze, and in one swift motion, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you. His hands, rough yet gentle, cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your rain-damp cheeks.

The kiss came like a thunderclap—fierce, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. His lips claimed yours with a desperation that stole the breath from your lungs, as though this was the only way he could make you understand everything he couldn’t say.

The rain blurred everything around you—the trees, the lake, the world itself—but Fred’s warmth anchored you. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, betraying the vulnerability beneath his boldness.

A soft gasp escaped you as your fingers curled into the fabric of his soaked shirt, pulling him closer instinctively. The rain had drenched you both, but Fred’s heat seeped through the layers, making you feel like nothing else mattered.

His lips moved against yours, earnest and unrelenting, as though he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tightly enough. And yet, there was no demand in his kiss, only a raw, aching need that left you dizzy.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Fred rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. His hands stayed on your face, as if letting go would break the fragile moment between you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but firm, his thumb brushing away the rain—or was it a tear?—from your cheek. “Forgive me?”

The rain continued to fall, cold and relentless, but it didn’t matter. Fred’s eyes searched yours, unguarded and full of something that made your chest ache.

“Always,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute.

Fred’s lips curved into the faintest smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming.

From a distance, George and Lee watched from the cover of a nearby tree, Angelina holding an umbrella over them with a triumphant smirk.

“Told you,” George said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lee muttered, crossing his arms, but not before handing George the bag. “I still say it’s weird to bet on your brother’s love life.”

“Not when it’s this predictable,” Angelina chimed in, snatching a Galleon from the bag. “You’re welcome, by the way. I made this happen.”

“You did nothing,” George said, rolling his eyes. “They’re just idiots. Idiots in love.”

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

THIRD TRIMESTER

Word Count: 1.1K

Pairing(s): Reader x Rafe 

Warnings: Stress and anxiety during pregnancy

Summary: Rafe defends you, pregnancy stress causes emotional pain

The third trimester had come faster than you anticipated, and with it came a series of emotions, both overwhelming and beautiful. You were now heavily pregnant, your body changing in ways that made you feel like you were barely holding onto yourself, but all the while, Rafe was there, supporting you through every step. The two of you had recently moved into a new house, a small but cozy place where you could begin your life together as a family. It was everything you’d dreamed of—well, almost everything.

-

There was still the issue of Rafe’s father, who hadn’t made it easy on you. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, he’d been openly critical of your decision to start a family so young.

“I don’t know why you’d want to keep the baby. You’re barely out of high school,” his voice echoed in your mind as you sat on the couch in your new home, wrapping your arms around your belly. “And you think you’re ready to raise a child? Wait until you see what comes out of her, Rafe. She won’t even look the same, and it’s not like she’ll go back to being skinny after all that. You really want to deal with that?”

You could still feel the sting of his words, even now. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something hurtful about your pregnancy, but it always hit hard. Rafe had defended you every time, but it never seemed to be enough to quiet the doubts you had. His dad’s comments made you second-guess everything, even your own self-worth, even when you knew deep down it wasn’t true.

Rafe had been there, as always, but that didn’t stop the growing anxiety within you. Every time his father would make a comment, it would take everything inside you not to cry or snap back. But today, something inside you broke. You had been unpacking boxes when you overheard another comment from Rafe’s dad, and it sent you spiraling. You knew Rafe wasn’t home, so you found yourself collapsing on the couch in tears, holding your belly as your emotions threatened to take over.

Just as the pain of the words sank deeper, the door to the living room opened, and Rafe stepped in, looking concerned. His eyes softened as soon as he saw your face, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach in distress.

“Baby?” he whispered, kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?”

Through shaky breaths, you tried to explain. “I just... I just can’t take it anymore. He keeps saying I’m too young, and it’s like he doesn’t believe I can do this. He’s always saying that things are going to change after labor, that you won’t even look at me the same way... I feel like I’m not good enough for this baby.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched with anger, but his face softened as he gently cupped your face in his hands. “Listen to me, okay? You are everything I could ever need. You’re the mother of my child, and nothing—nothing—will change that. Not the way you look, not what happens after labor. You could go through the toughest thing in the world, and I would still love you with everything I have. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You looked into Rafe’s eyes, your heart aching at his words, but the anxiety and emotional turmoil didn’t subside. You couldn’t stop crying. You wanted to be strong, but everything just felt so heavy. The emotional strain was overwhelming, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a grip on yourself.

Rafe’s protective instincts kicked in. His voice was steady but urgent as he pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay, baby. Take a few deep breaths. We’re okay. I’m here. The baby’s okay.”

But as you tried to steady your breathing, it felt impossible. You couldn’t calm down. The tears kept coming, and your chest tightened painfully. The stress had taken its toll, and you could feel it radiating through your body. Your heartbeat was erratic, and your baby seemed to be reacting too. The panic only deepened.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, clutching your chest, the pain intensifying. You were hyperventilating, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in fear as he frantically grabbed his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. It’s going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and rushed into the house. They assessed the situation quickly, asking questions and checking on both you and the baby. Rafe was by your side the whole time, holding your hand tightly, his face pale with worry.

Once you were in the ambulance, the pain started to subside, but your body still felt weak and shaky. The journey to the hospital felt long and suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep fear of what might be happening to you and the baby.

At the hospital, the doctors quickly ran tests, checking the baby’s heartbeat and your vitals. They explained that what you were experiencing was likely a panic attack, brought on by stress and the emotional pressure you had been under. It wasn’t something to be alarmed about, but they strongly advised you to stay calm in the coming weeks to prevent any further stress on the baby.

“You need to take care of yourself, both physically and emotionally,” the doctor said gently. “The next few weeks are crucial for both you and the baby. Stress can affect your health and the baby’s development. You need to avoid any situations that could increase that anxiety.”

Rafe was at your side, holding your hand tightly as the doctor finished speaking. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure she’s calm. I’ll keep her safe.”

You felt the sincerity in his voice, and although you still felt a little shaken, hearing him promise to be there for you made everything feel a bit more manageable.

As you were discharged and brought back to your new home, Rafe stayed close, making sure to comfort you and help you get settled back on the couch. He insisted that you rest, assuring you that everything would be okay. You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his care, feeling more grateful than ever that he was by your side.

“Don’t worry about anything else, baby,” Rafe said softly as he kissed the top of your head. “We’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one.”

[guessthatrec-poll]

Welcome to the Guess That Rec tournament!

Do you like enemies-to-lovers? Non-stereotypical queer rep? A cyberpunk setting with dragons in space about friendship, family, and the dangers of capitalism?

Well, this isn't any of those things! This is Guess That Rec, a tournament by the mod of @besttropeveershowdown where we'll be voting on media based entirely on bad, Booktok-style recommendations. Inspired by @guess-that-ship and this post, the rules of the tournament are simple: submit a recommendation for your favorite piece of media, and we'll vote on which ones we like best, BUT, here's the kicker: You may not mention anything about the actual plot of the story. Instead, we will be voting based on promo-post-style recommendations, which can include tropes, representation, setting, genre, very general theme, and anything else, as long as it doesn't describe anything that actually happens in the story!

Example:

Do you want a high school story about a neurodivergent protagonist working through their trauma by going on adventures in the big city? Queer-coded side characters? Male characters breaking through their toxic masculinity and expressing their feelings? Wholesome sibling relationships?

Then you'll love Catcher in the Rye!

The tournament will work similarly to the way @guess-that-ship does. Each rec will be assigned a number for the poll with the rec itself going in the body of the post, and each round, there will be a poll pitting 2 recs against each other. Vote for whichever piece of media sounds most appealing based on the rec alone. At the end of each round, I will reveal the identity of the loser. Guessing what work each rec is for in the comments is encouraged!

The submission form is here.

THE RULES:

Any type of media is permitted. Both fiction and nonfiction are allowed, but everything must be presented as if it's fiction.

You may NOT mention anything to do with the actual plot or premise of the story. You may, however, mention:

Tropes (ex. enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, unreliable narrator)

Representation (ex. disabled protagonist, gay side character)

Character dynamics and relationships (ex. dysfunctional siblings, grumpy x sunshine lesbians)

Setting (ex. in space, in the Old West)

Genre and subgenre (ex. historical fiction, whodunnit, workplace comedy)

Comparisons to other media (ex. if you liked Avengers you'll love this, it's Twilight meets Hunger Games)

General themes (ex. love, grief, family)

General elements (ex. murders, adventures, road trips)

Anything else that has NOTHING TO DO with what the story is actually about!

3. You may NOT make anything up: everything must be technically true, or at least up for interpretation. So, in my Catcher in the Rye example, I can't say that there are "canonically gay characters" because there aren't, but I CAN say that there are queer-coded characters. Similarly, if there's a character in your piece of media who exhibits autistic traits but has never been confirmed autistic, you can't call them "autistic", but you can call them "autistic-coded" or mention their specific traits. The use of weasel words (ex. describing a mentally ill serial killer stereotype as "neurodivergent", or a gay villain as a "major queer character") is allowed and encouraged.

4. Do not include any identifying details (ex. title, character names, identifying place names) in your rec.

5. Funnier submissions will be given higher priority. Submissions are funnier if A) they're of media that most people have heard of, and B) they are technically true while not at all capturing the vibe of the media.

5a. Additionally, remember that this is meant to be BAD recs: don't just use this as an excuse to recommend your favorite media! If a Booktok-style rec actually provides a good picture of what your media is, consider either rewriting or not submitting it.

6. Should the same media be submitted by two different people with different recs, priority will generally be given to the first submission, unless a later submission was significantly funnier by the guidelines stipulated in rule #5.

7. There is no banned media: go nuts!

Submissions will be open for at least 2 weeks, depending on how many I get, after which polls will begin! Happy recommending!

Tagging @tournament-announcer!

[poespetraven]

Hiiiiiii hellooooooooo hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii so uh funny story I haven’t watched the new episode yet…

LET ME EXPLAIN

(!!!spoilers for both the X-tale comic and series below!!! (I’ve never tried using the “keep reading” line thingy ooh this is exciting! Heehee look at me being all tumblr proficient! (I still have no idea as to what I’m doing (shoot sorry I got distracted.))))

I DID REREAD THE X-TALE COMIC AND REWATCH THE X-TALE SERIES THO AND OH MY GOSH I FORGOT HOW MUCH I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THE X-TALE COMIC, ESPECIALLY THE 2ND HALF OF IT LIKE OH MY GOSH I FORGOT SO MANY LITTLE DETAILS THAT MAKE IT SO MUCH MORE DEVASTATING BRO WHY DO I NEED REREAD THIS MORE OFTEN WHAT AM I DOING?!?!

Anyways, that was fun! I guess in a way it was kinda fun having not read it in a while cause like I got to be surprised by some things I forgot. Like Cross almost killing Frisk in the very beginning and then panicking about it and feeling awful. The slow build up of his suspicion of Frisk. And the whole deal with Papyrus secretly protecting Cross from his blasters to make Undyne and Frisk think he killed Cross. I had been thinking that Cross saved himself for a while now. And you know what? You know what that does? YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MAKES EXTRA DEVASTATING?! YOU KNOW WHAT OTHER KNIFE TWISTING DETAIL I FORGOT?! CROSS INITIALLY SPARED PAPYRUS! DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?! DO YOU?!?!?!? CAUSE I DIDN’T! I FORGOT! BUT AFTER CROSS KILLED EVERYBODY HE LEFT PAPYRUS TOTALLY UNHARMED AND WAS LIKE “Papyrus wants me happy 🥰” AND PAPYRUS IS JUST LIKE STANDING THERE AND THEN HE’S LIKE HES LIKE “yeah but like maybe you went like a little too far-“ THEN BOOM HES FUCKING DEAD. CROSS KILLS HIM! LIKE URGHHHHHH IT HURTS IT PHYSICALLY HURTS ME! AND THEN LIKE WHAT HAPPENS DIRECTLY AFTER? LIKE I FORGOT ABOUT FRISK TRYING TO GIVE CROSS THE HEART LOCKET AND THEN CHARA ACCIDENTALLY KILLING FRISK!!! LIKE I HAVE I ROBBED MYSELF BY NOT REMEMBERING THIS ANGST! IT MAKES CROSS’ REALIZATION THAT HE CAN’T ACTUALLY BRING EVERYBODY BACK EVEN MORE DEVASTATING!

So uh yeah I had a very fun time rereading the comic. And then I rewatched the X-Take series like the next day and OH MY GOSH IT WAS EVEN BETTER HAVING JUST READ THE COMIC LIKE IT JUST HITS SO MUCH HARDER AND I should probably stop there before I jump into another rant. This post was not supposed to be this long oops. I’ll just summarize what I was going to say by saying that this series gives me Feelings and Emotions.

BUT I STILL HAVENT WATCHED THE NEW UNDERVERSE EPISODE! I’ve being holding off for a day when my family is out of the house for long enough for me to rewatch all of Underverse Season 2 plus the new episode cause I want to try and see if I can put it on our television. BUT GUYS I DONT KNOW IF I CAN WAIT ANY LONGER! I THINK IM GONNA CAVE! LIKE I DON’T NEED TO WATCH IT LIKE THAT! LIKE ITS A NICE IDEA SURE BUT LIKE WOULD I REALLY ENJOY THE EPISODE LESS IF I DIDN’T WATCH IT LIKE THAT? NO! WHY AM I DOING THIS! I DONT KNOW! WHY AM POSTING THIS ON TUMBLR? WHY AM I STILL TYPING? WHO IS EVEN GOING TO READ THIS? HEY YOU THERE! YEAH YOU! WHY ARE YOU READING THIS? WHATS GOING ON?

…well I think I have officially decided that I am not going to wait until the house is empty to watch the new episode cause that’s stupid. I’m going watch it on my laptop with my headphones and a cozy blanket on my bed the way it was intended and it is going to be fucking fantastic.

UNDERVERSE 0.8 PART 1 Premiere

[reiding-writing]

For the Christmas fic, how about bau!reader never celebrated Christmas properly cause she had like bad parents so Spencer decides to change that with the help of the team

RESTORATION — SPENCER REID!

you’re not a big fan of christmas. spencer enlists the help of the team to try and restore your festive spirit.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.5k | fluff | masterlist.

a/n — watch someone who doesn’t like Christmas, write about a group of people who do like christmas :)

You’re not sure how it happened, but suddenly, Christmas is everywhere.

Twinkling lights hang from every corner of the bullpen. Garlands wrap themselves around the stair railings like ivy. A Christmas tree towers near the kitchenette, its branches heavy with ornaments you suspect Morgan and Garcia argued over before agreeing on a theme. The air smells faintly of pine, cinnamon, and coffee, a warm combination that feels almost too comforting. Too safe.

You try not to let it bother you.

You never understood the hype around Christmas. Every year, you watched the world transform into a wonderland of twinkling lights and festivity, but for you, it was just another day. Another reminder of what you never had.

While other kids were unwrapping presents under the tree, you sat in your cold, quiet room, the sounds of your parents’ arguments drowning out the holiday cheer. Christmas wasn’t a celebration in your house—it was a chore, a duty, something to get through without breaking.

Even now, as an adult, you treat the holiday like it’s just another box to check. The gifts you give are practical and impersonal, and the ones you receive feel more like obligations than thoughtful gestures. You avoid the parties, the caroling, the incessant cheer. It’s easier that way.

At least, it was.

The BAU changed everything.

You weren’t prepared for how much they’d come to mean to you. They weren’t just colleagues; they were family in a way you’d never truly known. And Spencer… Spencer Reid is something else entirely. You can’t pinpoint the exact moment your feelings for him shifted, but now they’re impossible to ignore. Every shy smile, every ramble about quantum physics, every thoughtful gesture—it all leaves you wondering how you got so lucky to have someone like him in your corner.

Still, when he asks you about your Christmas plans during lunch one day, your walls go up.

“Oh, you know,” you say casually, taking a sip of your coffee. “Probably just a quiet night at home.”

Spencer frowns, his brow furrowing in that endearing way that tells you he’s already analysing your words. “You’re not a Christmas person?”

You shrug, trying to seem indifferent. “Not really. Christmas wasn’t… something my parents did growing up,”

That’s the understatement of the century, but you don’t elaborate. Spencer’s gaze lingers on you, and you can practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Well,” he says slowly, “maybe it’s something we can work on,”

You wave him off with a chuckle, but the idea takes root in his mind anyway.

—

A week later, you’re finishing up paperwork when Spencer approaches your desk, his face lit up with excitement.

“Are you free on Christmas Eve?” he asks, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You blink, caught off guard. “I guess so? Why?”

He grins, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his messenger bag. “It’s a surprise. Just… trust me?”

You don’t have the heart to say no.

—

When Christmas Eve arrives, you find yourself in front of Spencer’s apartment, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling in your chest. You’re not sure what to expect, but the last thing you anticipate is the sight that greets you when he opens the door.

“Surprise!”

The entire team is there, the living room transformed into a Christmas wonderland. There’s a fake tree in the corner, its branches laden with ornaments and lights. Garland and tinsel drape over every surface, and the scent of cinnamon and pine fills the air.

Hotch is standing by the fireplace, looking uncharacteristically relaxed with a drink in hand, JJ and Will are helping Henry hang a candy cane on the tree, Garcia flits around in a sequinned Santa hat, arranging plates of cookies and snacks, and even Rossi is there, holding a glass of wine and smirking like he knows exactly how overwhelmed you’re feeling.

And then there’s Spencer, standing in front of you with that nervous, hopeful look that makes your heart ache.

“You did this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “We did. You’ve never had a proper Christmas, and we thought it was time to change that.”

You look around, your chest tightening as the weight of their thoughtfulness sinks in. For a moment, you can’t speak.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” you finally manage, though your voice trembles.

“We wanted to,” JJ says, stepping over to hug you. “You’re family, and family deserves to be celebrated.”

The word family hits you like a freight train.

—

The night unfolds like something out of a movie.

You start with decorating gingerbread houses, a task that quickly descends into chaos when Garcia insists on bedazzling her roof with edible glitter. Morgan competes with Henry to see who can build the tallest chimney, while Rossi critiques everyone’s technique like it’s a cooking competition.

Spencer sticks close to you, guiding you through the process with his usual patience and a surprising knack for icing details. At one point, he accidentally smudges frosting on his nose, and the way he blushes when you laugh makes your stomach flutter.

Next comes dinner, a feast that Rossi and JJ clearly poured their hearts into. You sit between Spencer and Garcia, listening to Rossi’s stories and laughing until your cheeks hurt. Every now and then, you catch Spencer sneaking glances at you, his expression soft and fond in a way that makes you feel seen in a way you’re not used to.

Afterward, Garcia insists on a gift exchange. You’re hesitant at first, but when you open your gift from her—a beautifully wrapped box of handmade bookmarks featuring your favorite literary quotes—you can’t help but smile.

“How did you…?”

“I have my ways,” she says with a wink.

You’re equally stunned when Spencer hands you a small, carefully wrapped package. Inside is an antique copy of *Pride and Prejudice*, its leather cover worn but lovingly preserved.

“Spencer,” you whisper, running your fingers over the embossed title. “This is… it’s perfect.”

He shrugs, looking almost shy. “I remember you mentioned it was your favorite. I thought it deserved a spot in your collection.”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you’re sure you’re going to cry.

—

The night ends with everyone gathered around the fireplace, mugs of hot cocoa in hand as Jack preforms his reading of The Night Before Christmas.

You sit beside Spencer on the couch, his arm brushing against yours as he leans in to whisper little facts about the poem’s history. Normally, you’d roll your eyes at his need to share trivia, but tonight, it feels comforting. Familiar.

When the others start to leave, bidding you Merry Christmas with hugs and warm smiles, you linger by the door, hesitant to let the night end.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, his voice soft.

You nod, but the lump in your throat betrays you. “I just… I don’t know how to thank you for this. All of you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” he says, his gaze steady. “You deserve it.”

The words are simple, but they cut through you in a way you don’t expect. Before you can second-guess yourself, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes for a moment, clearly surprised, but then he relaxes, his arms coming up to hold you in return.

His cheek smushes lovingly against the top of your head, and it’s only once he catches the glimpse of white and green above the doorway that he pulls away.

Mistletoe. How cliché.

Spencer lets out a breath of a laugh as you follow his gaze with curious eyes, cheeks warming at the fluster on your face.

“Garcia must’ve put that there…”

You press your lips together between your teeth, a wave of heat rising to the tips of your ears as you glance back in Spencer’s direction.

But you’re not nervous. It’s almost domestic, the soft crackle of the dying fire across the room, the way Spencer’s arms linger innocently at your waist.

You cup Spencer’s cheek to bring it to your face, lips pressing deftly against the corner of his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer,” you whisper like you’ve run out of oxygen.

He smiles with his whole face, his voice warm and full of meaning. “Merry Christmas,”

[olailamajnoon]

Bruce, to Jason: you'll never guess what just happened

Jason: you adopted a new Robin.

Bruce to Tim: guess what just happened

Tim: I got a new sibling already huh? Kinda nice, I figured it was time.

Bruce to Dick: Can you guess what happened?

Dick: ALREADY? Man you have a problem!

Bruce to Damian: can you conjecture what has taken place

Damian: you have acquired another batchild.

Bruce to Stephanie: ok. Can YOU guess what's just happened?

Stephanie: you're pregnant.

Bruce to Cassandra: Can you guess what I'm about to tell you?

Cassandra: Selina said yes.

Bruce, to the entire family: YES!!! ATLEAST ONE OF MY KIDS KNOWS ME!

Cassandra: no, I just got a text from her.