#especially not as a pure and good emotion
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Chromatic Orb and Find Steed!!! You will see me upon my stallion, helping the masses.
I can start controlled fires! I can help put out fires! I can lob a ball of ice energy directly at a bitch.
Find Steed just has good utility, especially since I can't drive. Also, built-in friend and who's going to kick out my emotional support mastiff that is big enough a 5'10 250lb person can ride it? If they try, same bitch can lob balls of pure energy. I see this as an absolute win.
The Randomizer
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Lovelessness and lack of any attraction making me realize that i don't understand any relationships in terms of love.
How do you know you're romantically interested in someone? how is that different than loving them in literally any other way? Hell, how do you know you love your friends? When do you even apply the label of friend? How do you decide you want to be someones friend even? What about family? we're just expected to love them from birth but why? How do you know you view someone as family? why are we expected to love people we just happen to be related to?
I dunno, I'm writing some friendships, found family, and just adopted family and biological family relationships and I'm realizing that I'm struggling with actually like...showing why characters "love" each other in these ways. What makes this character want to be a parental figure to another character? what makes this characters friends any more important than other people in their lives? I'm writing what society tells me but I don't actually think i understand any of it.
I can understand connection and characters enjoying each others company and caring about each other but when it gets to the love part? the part society demands there be for the relationship to be full and real and complete? I find myself lost every single time. shouldn't them caring for each other be enough? why do they need this confusing emotion for them to truely be friends or truely be family?
Why is the label of a "strong bond between people" locked behind the paywall that is the undefined idea of love? Why is love a requirement and not an option for these sorts of bonds? a bond without love doesn't mean you hate the person or dislike them even. it doesn't mean you're apathetic. it just means you don't love them. I don't get why this word is so important. I don't get why it's expected.
#text#loveless#loveless aro#idk maybe it's because i look at these sorts of things in terms of logic#which emotions don't always follow#people always use love as an answer but i always question it#âthey did it because they love themâ why do they love them though#why is their love for them seen as so important#why should other characters care about that love#why did love make them do that#what is so special about the bond between these two characters compared to the bond they have with other characters#why is it different#and i guess most people don't have answers. why would they? it's just how they feel#that's usually enough for others but for some reason not for my brain#and i think it's just because i cannot grasp the idea of love as an emotion#especially not as a pure and good emotion#idk it's confusing#and probably my own fault#im not really looking for answers here because i dont think there is any#not any that would satisfy me at least#just wanted to express this feeling ig
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Hi! this is kinda an art request if u dont mind. And it's angst related, can you draw like where wanda and cosmo obvs have seen for a while how (human) timmy has been treated by his real parents. I just want to see like the "last straw" which lead Cosmo and Wanda wanting them to make Timmy as their own. (IM HAPPY THAT TIMMY HAS A FAMILY THAT LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM)
The "Last Straw"?
Cosmo and Wanda have seen humans at their best. They've seen humans at their worst. They've seen anything and everything that they've gone numb and used to what humans get up to.
But nothing's shaken them quite like Timmy's case did. Nothing has ever made a Fairy feel such strong human emotions than what Timmy made them feel, on that one particular night.
The thing that broke Cosmo and Wanda was Timmy himself.
Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]
#asks#itty bitties fop au#germangirl321#tw abuse#tw emotional abuse#tw emotional distress#tw implied death#tw implied sui#tw sui implied#<- ask to tag#(especially ask to tag bcs these are the offered tumblr tags)#godkids wish for stupid things all the time. sometimes they wish for good things and bad things. or things that helps themselves or others#they wish for things that teaches them life lessons or for things that damages them in the future.#but at their core every child has a pure wish that they want more than anything.#for hazel. her core wish is for change to stop. for dev. his core wish is for his father's love#timmy's wish. at the center of everything. is to run away from himself and all that he is. to be something- anything- but Him.#its this core wish that fairies desire most. its their ambrosia. and its almost always impossible to grasp in its purity.#they cant stop change or forge a father's love after all.#Most fairies would be ecstatic to claim a child's core wish. It's the peak of their career- highly coveted highly praised.#but Cosmo and Wanda took no pleasure when they finally consumed their one- and only one for they'd never do it again- core wish.#as said before. cosmo and wanda really. really love timmy turner. and timmy really really loves his fairies. love!!! is a powerful thing!!#anyways this is a heavy topic and a heavy ask so im keeping it out of the main tags#also if you're curious as to whose responding back to timmy#its cosmo#lots of people tend to portray wanda as the more emotional sensitive type. yknow the âmotherlyâ role.#but i think thats wrong.#was considering cutting out their responses for this ask#but then i figured that CosWan would be responding back in earnest to calm him down as best they could
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Okay but forreal, now more than ever I desperately NEED Aya to eventually wreck Fyodor's shit somehow. I already wanted her to get her revenge before, but I didn't think Fyodor would even remember or know who she was, and would massively underestimate her for that reason (just like Jouno knew that Fukuchi would underestimate her). But now the story has instead created this twisted, fucked-up dynamic between them, where Fyodor not only knows her, but is protective of her for reasons that are not his own: he has taken the pure, noble, kind, fatherly love motivating Bram to protect Aya and warped it into something horrific, vowing to protect her body only while not caring how much her heart and mind has been scarred, and claiming to be doing it for her own salvation, when he cannot possibly understand the selfless feelings Bram had that made him want to protect her and care for her â feelings that he does not have. He may genuinely have some sort of affection for children (the way he treated Karma, "blessings for the children", this), but it is twisted and hollow and is quite possibly only him unconsciously acting out the motions due to behavior instilled in him from the feelings of all the people he's subsumed in the past.
All this is to say that, now the narrative has specifically pitted Aya and Fyodor together as direct enemies: she not only had reason already to hate him because he killed Bram, but because he's also taken Bram's love for her and defiled it, dishonored it and him and all that he was; meanwhile, Fyodor has given himself an arch nemesis that he no doubt takes great pleasure in seeing how much she hates him/how much despair he's brought her, but paradoxically at the same time feels a compulsion to "protect" her that draws himself to her and that he can't ignore. Aya has to defeat him somehow (not permanently, mind you; Dazai will undoubtedly be his final end), and the setup for Bram being able to fight back enough to stop Fyodor from the inside with her help is all right there, too. Their love for each other is still enduring, stronger than ever, Fyodor is proof of that right now, and they will be able to defeat him together, at least enough that Bram can be freed and come back to Aya. Dazai told Fyodor that he would lose because he doesn't understand and underestimates the power of friendship bonds and love, and there is no better a time for that to happen than here, when he is literally using someone's strong love for and connection with someone (acting as that person and claiming to know how they feel and to be the same as them) in a way that he cannot understand, which will be his undoing.
#bungou stray dogs#bsd 115#bsd spoilers#bsd 115 spoilers#this post brought to you by me spamming two steps from hell songs because i need to be hyped up and to feel something#the lyrics to 'star sky' are very bsd (especially right now) okay just listen to it#anyway aya is gonna fuck fyodor up i see the vision LET ME COOOOOK#I SEE ASAGIRI'S COOKING AND I'M STIRRING THE POT#PICKING UP WHAT HE'S PUTTING DOWN#BOY THAT WHOLE PART MADE ME FEEL LITERALLY ILL AND WANTING TO KMS BUT THE PAYOFF IS GONNA BE SO GOOD JUST WATCH#i had the copium after last chapter but IT'S FORMING NOW WE SEEING IT COMING TOGETHER TRUST#GIVING FYODOR AND AYA A TOXIC FUCKED UP FATHER DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIP OOOHHHH............ PURE EVIL BUT I'LL GLADLY BE SICK FOR A WHILE#IF IT MEANS THE REUNION AND RAT SMACKDOWN IS ALL THE MORE SATISFYING!!!!!!!!!!#AYA AND BRAM GET HIS ASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS#THAT RAT BASTARD COULDN'T RECOGNIZE A LOVING PARENT CHILD RELATIONSHIP IF IT HIT HIM IN THE FACE#(narrator: this statement would come back to haunt her)#HOW DARE YOU STAND WHERE HE STOOD AND TRY TO BE HIM!!!!!!!! YOU WILL NEVER!!!!!!!!!!#BRAM'S LOVE FOR HER IS STILL IN THERE AND I'M MORE THAN A LITTLE EMOTIONAL OVER IT#HE'S GONNA COME BACK SHE'S GONNA FUCK FYODOR UP THEY'RE GONNA DO IT TOGETHER WITH THE POWER OF LOVE BABYYYYYY#*kingdom hearts 3 woody voice* because hE KNOWS NOTHING ABOUT HEARTS AND LOVE!!!!!!!!
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Punk Ain't Dead It Got Too White
It irks me when people say shit like "punk is dead" or these endless essays about the death of punk. But, like, of course. Of course rich and wealthy white kids from the suburbs cosplaying poor kids from the sticks because thats' how they "feel on the inside" filling up the local venue on a Thursday night in a neighborhood that used to be Black and or brown will make you feel like the scene you once worshiped has passed on. OF COURSE you feel like punk is dead. Because it no longer belongs to its creators. Punk came out of the homes of the working class. Youth abused by the system or their abused parents or abandoned and needing to put that rage somewhere to survive. The way that soul and hip hop and gospel were created to express sorrow and rage and hope and joy for the people also feeling it in need of relief. Punk was the expression of the BLACK working class. And then the poor white WORKING class. That suffering, that pain, is what made punk great. The way revolution rises from unbeareable conditions, so does incredible art. It is no longer coming from the source. Not for a long time.
Once the goals become fame, profit, status, respect - that's pop story. I got nothin against pop. But, capitalism and revolutionary do not go together, no matter how you wanna twist it. It's like thanking Jesus for bein rich. Jesus said keep his name out yo greedy ass mouth, ya feel me?
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#punk is not dead#rich white people are just not good voices of rage#i dont care what whitey is mad about#whitey needs to learn how to hold his âraceâ accountable for world atrocities especially racism#poor whitey i get more and jewish whitey and irish whitey because historically they weren't allowed to even be whitey#they were grandfathered in#they make great punk too cuz they are oppressed directly by a system#at the same time they help to perpetuate these systems#gay queer trans punk also acceptable but not from rich kids i'm sorry it's the rules#go do emo#that's what ya'' have emo for#wasps don't know how to express emotion outside of sadism#so y'all made emo to stop being serial killers#and i love emo#keep that up#rich and suburban and white and not poor and working class#some of yall pretend to not know the diffrence#but i am not the one or the two#we only respect the truth in this house#Polystyrene#Death#Pure Hell#Fishbone
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It appears I have once again failed to notice the obvious "villainous character may have been fake crying in impactful interaction with other character for manipulation" option, probably for autism reasons. However, I will maintain that I was also right to ignore it because it's less interesting than the alternative.
Like I get the whole "ooohh incoming plot twist/betrayal" intrigue but come on. Look me in the face and say that's more compelling than the "character who has before shown no convincing empathy is suddenly hit exactly in their empathy weak spot and has no idea how to deal." Especially a schemer character who is used to perfectly controlling themselves. Now they have a weakness! That's a problem for them! It throws a wrench in their plans and they have to adapt! That's more fun than the villain's plan going off perfectly, surely.
#Especially in this case where the âweaknessâ is around character B suffering through something similar to character A's childhood trauma#and character A's only two murders (that we know of) were family members heavily implied to have treated them very badly#it's framed like a pure power grab on the show#but if we believe that just having to recount their childhood (and watching another character have to face it) makes them actually cry#that adds layers to those first deaths#which again is more interesting than just waiting for a lie to pay off#also the lie theory doesn't make sense as they are pulling this alleged gambit in front of a character that mocks âweaknessâ in everyone#so affecting vulnerability makes sense with a character inclined to want to help others but not with a character inclined to sneer at them#it's a needless risk#A reason some people may assume evil characters are always faking emotion is because they think genuine emotion is for âgood peopleâ#and if one can understand why a character did something or acknowledges that the character has *some* people they don't want to hurt#that means one condones their overall behavior/likes them as a person#anyway the show is#house of the dragon#and the character is#larys strong#in that first scene he has talking to Aegon about living with a disability
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Ive been watching alot of enterprise recently and one of the things that strikes me, especially in the latter seasons is how focused it is on captain archers heroism. It seems like every other episode is concluded by him risking his life in a feat of daring do to save the day. It kinda has the effect of making him seem a bit more like an all american action hero rather than a starfleet captain who is a part of a cohesive crew. This is a little jarring, especially when compared with other star trek captains (who have their action hero life risking moments but they are 1 much more scarce and 2 have alot more justification beforehand) but I do think it works quite well character-wise. Archers relentless self sacrifice and die hard (the movie) approach to alot of situations really draws attention to the fact he is the first person to be the captain of the starships we know and love from other shows - and especially the fact that the role and code of behaviour of later captains has not by any means been established. It shows how he acts more on emotion than protocol because there are no protocols yet for how a captain should behave and it shows how he reacts to encountering dangerous and chaotic circumstances there are no precedence for - by putting his life on the line rather than risk anyone else, even to the point of irrationality. And this makes sense! In the tos/tng era we have things like the kobayashi maru and command simulations where you have to send a crew member into a life threatening situation, but enterprise didnt even expect to see heavy combat, they barely left space dock with weapons, there is no way archer was prepared to this extent and his actions show this. So yes, the heroism is very focus is very interesting character wise however narrative wise its fucking annoying. Making Archer the go to guy who has to jump on every grenade and has to take every bullet gets old pretty quick. For one thing it really takes the drama out of it because we know Archer will get out unscathed cos he did in every other virtual suicide attempt so far. And for another thing the self sacrifice stops feeling earned because its just a go to - and you can definitely maintain a balance between showcasing how archer is reckless with his own life and keep the emotional weight by not having it be such a frequent thing. But my main gripe is that this focus on archer saving the day absorbs so many other cool opportunities. like in immunity syndrome kirk had to choose to send spock or mccoy on a suicide mission - and also had to concede that he couldn't do it himself cos he also has similar self sacrificing herosim streak - and that could be something so cool to see on enterprise but the archer focus gets in teh way. ( i am now realising i am only midway thru season 4 so if this does happen at some point keep it to urself). And it gets in the way of so many chances to explore other characters. Travis Mayweather is criminally underutilised i want to see how he behaves in a life or death situation!!!! I already know how archer would cos ive seen it a bunch of times!!! And there are so many instances where it would have been more interesting if another character was in the grenade jumping position - like what if phlox had to test the cure for the klingon virus on hoshi instead that would have been so interesting to see cos of how close they are. I maintain that if like a 3rd or even a 5th of big captain archer hero moments had been devoted to exploring other characters or other options enterprise would be so much better. Truly society if
#at times it is kinda the captain archer show and it drives me mildy insane#especially cos i personally find him kinda annoying not as cool as other characters#so the fact he gets so much screentime and focus in comparison is suhhhgughgughgh#another archer characterisation thing tho is how many wild non suicidal captaining decisions he makes#like so many times im like bro wtf what possessed u to do that#sighs wistfully picard would never do this#or if tehy did it would have been way more of a thing#like in daedalus he is purely acting based on emotion and not in the interests of a crew#he is highkey not a good captain but i dont mean that in a badly written way it is a very juicy delicious character choice#star trek#star trek enterprise#captain archer
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I played Season over the weekend, which if I had to condense "thematic meandering" into a videogame is probably what I would most closely end up with; but it was still a cozy chill time that targeted my very specific niche of robust cow petting mechanics. Followed by journaling the heck out of them.
I do think cute indies living and dying by their sincere desire to paint the human condition should never ever ever fall into the temptation of obtuse and nebulous worldbuilding that desperately needs to explain itself so it can function as an aesthetic blanket for their vignettes. Just keep it loose and metaphor-heavy, fellas.
Cause if you're not extremely, painfully specific about your intention with a story that centers ignorant tourism and historic preservation, you're gonna beef it, bud
#season a letter to the future#I have so many nitpicks but it feels mean lmao. in a very subjective sense I had a good time with it. I am a boring playstyle guy#scrapbooking and cycling in a pretty world is right up my alley. wish it wasn't so#man idk if I can call it what I want to call it cause it's so unclear of its own optics. the intention feels pure#for whatever good that can do in a context this god damn loaded :D but at least I recorded the froggies on my tapes#(a game like this does not need elaborate lore that it then fails to adequately explain anyway. that is a barrier to many of season's#emotional high points. shit just lacks clarity of purpose and happens as a given and banks on its aesthetic and melancholic context to#provide the necessary backbone for that punch. but then you end up revealing your hand and general flippant disposition towards this#nebulously coded cultural backdrop that you've constructed for ultimately shallow purposes. especially irt to the core ethos#like the game ultimately asks us if dispassionate preservation of a dying culture is more valuable than the vicarious experience of it but#then that binary is never meaningfully weighted since the protagonist survives and succeeds in either option BECAUSE of the journal and?#it all fizzles out in thematic incongruity. maybe it's my own hangups with glorification of legacy to such a manic degree#or maybe it's really just meant to be sort-of aimless and 'human' in that way. which again negates the need for this lore-brain barrier#just keep it simple without the oddly pedestrian mechanics of the literal apocalypse and the mass amnesia prayers and tell#the exact same story. with a tighter grip on the context of who the protagonist is in this land. there's your game)#text
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Which rage language are you?
Men, raise the drawbridge
When you're angry, all your defenses go up. The unfortunate person or thing that managed to piss you off is suddenly talking to a wall. On the inside, you're screaming and crying and cussing them out, but somehow you can't express it. You're blank. emotionless. To anyone's knowledge, you could be zoning out of a lecture. Because of this, it's hard to express how you're feeling when the person asks for your thoughts. You've choked your feelings down, and they won't come back up.
Tagged by: @brokentoys (thank you wikia âĄ) Tagging: Whoever would like to do it?
#đ || dashboard games#đ || memes#O-oouh ;u;#This hit a little close to home haha...#Khare is ABSOLUTELY this asdfghjkl#It can be hard to tell when she's angry because she so rarely is#She does zone out a lot in general so when she is mad it's tough to tell#She struggles to express many things but pure rage is just -locked-#She will not forget and she will not forgive#Okay she might forget eventually but ASDFGHJKL#Mmm good soup right dere đ#Okay but hear me out for a sec#This is eerily close to something I discussed with Holly#When Khare is experiencing heightened emotions and especially negative ones like fear she's just... đ#Anger would be the same#Most stoic expression ever as she sizes up whether or not it's worth clubbing somebody's head in or not
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attraction-spicy astrology observations
1st house venus - naturally enchanting, perceived as beautiful and attracts opposite sex easily, very positively alluring.
1st house pluto/scorpio rising - deep and intense, when involved with one there's plenty of sexual attraction and forbidden chemistry that exudes from them. very influential and persuasive.
libra moon - charming and witty, flirtatious and knows how to dig deeper to make you like them more. easy to create emotional attraction to them.
moon in 4th - private and a hidden gem, selectively tempting to those who they can see deep connection with.
pluto in 7th - brings lots of change and transformation to their partners. socially accepted as a very intimidating beauty. very high awareness of their promiscuous behavior. hidden or even open admirers.
pluto-venus/mars aspects - powerful feminine and powerful masculine, wouldn't see it unless you get to know them. very domineering individuals, prefers to have the upper hand always.
lilith-ascendant aspects - can be sexualized even overly by others, can attract dislike because their magnetism is so strong. radiates a very 1 of 1 energy, extremely forward and confident in their sexuality.
lilith-venus/pluto aspects - very desirable by other people, always knows what they want and have a good sense of control over themselves. they really are if looks could kill.
jupiter/venus in 8th - captivating and fancied for their understanding of other's needs. a guilty pleasure; people drawn to their mystery & tempting image, desired in secret.
mercury-venus/moon apects - flirty mouths, openly complemented on their bodies or demeanor. has a sultry & calm voice.
taurus/libra mars - can have pretty private parts, (mars represents our reproductive organs, blood, energy). sidenote: taurus mars might prefer slow oral and dirty talk in the bedroom, libra mars prefers switching it up and grabbing/grabbed by the thighs.
capricorn mars - capricorn is exalted here, very expressive in sexual act, puts pressure and loves to take control. likes to be on top, especially if it's a man, usually goes for more submissive women, and if it's a woman, she goes for men who are more domineering than her.
pisces in jupiter/venus/mars - pretty shlongs/kittys.
sun-venus/moon aspects (especially if sun, venus, or moon is in 10th/5th) - might like to take photos of their lady parts or be recognized for their lady parts.
8th house stellium - prominent scorpion energy; seems inexplicably fascinating upon coming across them. there's an intensity that is not easily breakable; this suspicion makes them seem so out of reach when they're next to you.
venus in 12th - attracts secret admirers, stalkers, people dream of them a lot and even daydream about them. they see and are seen through rose-colored lenses, and you wouldn't even come to realize it.
sun in 8th/scorpio sun - very obvious, masters of sexual charm, very goodlooking and has attractive energy.
virgo mars/ 6th house mars - very submissive and carries themselves with a very "pure"-like energy which can attract very suspicious people. be careful of people who want to use you.
sagittarius mars/ascendants - tend to have thicker legs.
capricorn venus - loves to have their chins and hands touched, likes to make their partner go on their knees for them.
uranus in 12th - has kinks that they prefer to hide and has very unique ways of giving pleasure. might like to drizzle on oddly specific body parts or likes to use toys, chains, foreplay.
saturn-mars aspects - loves it slow & steady, likes to be the one being in authority in the bedroom. might like utilizing their fingers in their partner.
4th house mars - might enjoy having their breasts, nipples, stomach kissed or played with.
mercury-jupiter aspects - likes talking their partner through it during oral.
12th house mars - prefer to be submissive and do a lot of spitting, especially on their lower parts or on their partner.
9th house mars - likes men/women from different ethnicities/cultures/backgrounds, might even travel a lot just to see different people.
risng/mars in degrees of taurus, libra, leo, capricorn, gemini - might like to accessorize themselves with jewelry or try to enhance their bodies in some way to appear more luxurious. (belly buttons, tattoos, piercings, bracelets, necklaces, nail polish, rings, etc). material gwoorls.
thank u guys for reading all the way!!
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Ok now we're just taking the piss right? Right?
Once again this sort of thinking is removing a fundamental character arc that makes this story what it is. A big part of Aang's journey, especially in season 1, but tbh it does return in later seasons too, is accepting that he is the Avatar, and that he's the only one who can end this war. During the whole first season he is in complete denial about who he is and what he's supposed to do, which is why in most of this season there's no sense of urgency, and then once Aang gets faced with a very real, very close deadline he panics. This makes it even more brutal when in season 3, after accepting this responsibility, he gets faced with the reality of failure. He runs away again, this time not because he doesn't want responsibility, but because he knows how heavy his responsibility is and he doesn't want to burden anyone else with it. Removing the first aspect, aka running away and denying responsibility, it in turn also removes the heavy emotion from his later arc.
It keeps surprising me that people who claim to be such fans of the original seem to completely miss the point of most of this story? Like how could you look at Sokka learning about women's rights, Aang learning to accept responsibility, and Katara's motherly warmth which happened because how young she was when she had to step into a motherly role, and think "well we should remove that." You're taking out all of character development and going purely off of plot (which isn't gonna be nearly as good without the character development!)
Atla is probably one of the most analyzed and picked apart story, has one of the most long running loyal fanbases, people are STILL making thinkpieces about this show, and you manage to still misunderstand so much???
#i'm telling you media literacy is DEAD#like this fanbase's analysis comes close to that of the lord of the rings fandom#and yet you seem to have completely ignored it#wild#atla#atla netflix#netflix atla#netflix#atla live action#avatar the last airbender#avatar
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ron weasley did not
come to privet drive to rescue harry from his abusive home after he hadnât been replying to any of his letters and he was worried
almost back out of following the spiders bc theyâre his biggest fear, but upon seeing hermioneâs empty seat at dinner, find the courage to go
defend hermione from any and everyone who called her a mudblood
constantly worry about hermioneâs workload (especially in 3rd year) and notice that whenever she disappeared
offer to teach hermione his entire family tree so that she could pretend to be pure blood to keep her safe from death eaters
defend harry to everyone (percy, seamus, half the school) when everyone thought he was lying about voldemortâs return
stand up on his broken leg in front of harry and say that âif you want to kill harry, youâll have to kill us first!â to what they believed to be a raving lunatic mass murderer
gift dobby his newest weasley jumper and the new socks he got given for christmas
stand up against snape when he was bullying hermione (and got a detention as a result)
beg the deatheaters who were torturing hermione to âleave her alone!! take [him], have [him] instead!â
always check up on his friends when he notices something is up, even if itâs in subtle ways
immediately befriend harry on the train in ps and teach him about the wizarding world
write to charlie immediately so he could help hagrid out of trouble (re the dragon, norbert)
encourage neville to stand up to people, and praise him when he actually does it
help harry put on his pajamas after he broke his arm during quidditch
have to be physically restrained from attacking malfoy after he said he wished hermione had died in cos
worry about harryâs preoccupation with the mirror of erised and how it was affecting him
remind hermione to eat her meals and get a good nightâs sleep when sheâs studying 24/7 for their owl exams
display acute levels of emotional intelligence in the way he interacts with harry and hermione, essentially being the glue that keeps them all together
get splinched almost in half, lose blood and suffer agonising pain but seem more worried about the cattermoles and whether or not they were okay
realise his mistakes & own up to them, acknowledging his role in certain falling outs (especially in deathly hallows)
be genuinely hilarious and fun, and lighten the load in everyone elseâsâ lives with the humour he brings to
write to his mother in ps asking her to give harry presents too because he doesnât think heâll received any
go to the department of mysteries to help harry without a second a thought
go on the run with harry to hunt for horcruxes without a second thought
run to hermioneâs aid when malfoy hits her with a nasty hex outside snapeâs classroom and take her to the hospital wing
help hermione with buckbeakâs appeal, spending hours upon hours reading up on the case
extend the first olive branch after fighting with hermione because of scabberâs âdeathâ and apologising, after which she then apologises too
demand to re-try out for the position of keeper on the quidditch team because he wanted to earn it himself with no favouritism or help
choose to stay on the quidditch team despite the bullying from the slytherin team and his nerves about his flying ability
stand up to malfoy at every opportunity, when he was insulting him, but more importantly, insulting his family & his friends
save harryâs life in dh by pulling him out of the lake, and then kill the horcrux
remember the houseelves during the battle of hogwarts and worry about their safety
continue to admire and adore his older twin brothers despite the fact that they were sometimes cruel to him
become almost annoyingly protective of his little sister (ESPECIALLY after the diary situation)
single-handedly out smart and escape five armed and deadly snatchers
try his best to overcome his insecurities and feelings of being overlooked, in order to support the people around him
sacrifice himself without a second thought during the chess game in ps because he knew harryâs survival was more important than his
for yâall to speak on him the way you do. calling him cruel, evil, selfish etc??? open your fucking eyes
#ron weasley#ron weasleyâs defence lawyer#harry potter#hp#ron x harry#hermione x ron#romione#ronald bilius weasley#weasley family#hp thoughts
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đŹđŽđ§đŹđđ đđ§đ đ§đđ° đđđ đ˘đ§đ§đ˘đ§đ đŹ
requested by @gracerose68
pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader
summary: five years after outer banks ended, drew and you are enjoying life together, despite your ten-year age gap. loved by the entire cast, you are considered part of the âobs fam.â during a group vacation to ibiza, you starts feeling off and realizes you might be pregnant. caught between your fears of drewâs reaction and the unwavering support of your âsiblings,â you discovers that love, family, and unexpected surprises can lead to beautiful new beginnings.
warning(s): english is not my native language. unplanned pregnancy, emotional vulnerability, fluff, humor, mild swearing, supportive friendships.
au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated.
Your and the other actor of Outer Banks group chat was always filled with energy.
Chase: âIbiza is happening! Flights booked. Whoâs ready for sunburns and bad decisions?â
Rudy: âI call dibs on the best room. Drew, donât fight me this time.â
JD: âThis isnât Outer Banks, Rudy. No treasure hunt to claim a room.â
Madelyn: âCan we focus? Whoâs bringing sunscreen?â
Madison: âY/N will bring it. She always has everything.â
You glanced up from your phone and smirked at Drew, who was scrolling through the same messages.
âTheyâre not wrong.â
âYouâre like the groupâs mom,â Drew teased, pulling you closer on the couch.
âWell, somebody has to keep you lot alive.â You poked his side, earning a soft laugh.
The trip to Ibiza had been a long time coming. Between work schedules and personal commitments, it had been years since the Outer Banks cast had been in the same place together. Despite not being a cast member, you were as much a part of the group as anyone else. Drewâs friends had embraced you with open arms, making you feel like family.
It wasnât always easy being ten years younger than Drew. At 24, you were still navigating adulthood, while Drew, at 34, was more settled. But your love for each other made the age gap feel insignificant.
The first day in Ibiza was pure of laugh and every other things. About the villa, it was breathtaking, with whitewashed walls, infinity pools, and views of the sparkling Mediterranean. Everyone quickly settled into vacation mode, with plans for beach days, exploring the island, and late-night conversations by the firepit.
By the second day, though, you couldnât shake the nagging exhaustion and nausea that had crept in. It wasnât like you to feel so drained, especially when surrounded by people you loved.
As the group lounged on the beach, Drew noticed you sitting quietly under the shade of an umbrella.
âHey,â he said softly, crouching beside you. âYou okay? Youâve been quiet today.â
You forced a smile, brushing off his concern.
âJust tired. I think the travel caught up with me.â
His brow furrowed, but he didnât push.
âLet me know if you need anything, okay?â
âAlways.â
Later that afternoon, a small girl wandered toward the group, her tear-streaked face melting everyoneâs hearts.
âWhereâs your mommy?â you asked gently, kneeling in the sand to meet her gaze.
The little girl sniffled and pointed toward the other end of the beach. Without hesitation, you held her hand, reassuring her until her mother arrived.
âYouâre an angel,â the mother said gratefully before walking away.
âYouâd make such a great mom,â Madison said, nudging Drew with a grin.
âShe really would,â Drew agreed, his eyes soft as they met yours.
Your stomach flipped, but not in the good way. His words felt like confirmation of what youâd been suspecting but were too scared to admit.
That night, while everyone gathered in the living room for a movie, you excused yourself and retreated to the bathroom. With shaking hands, you retrieved the pregnancy test youâd packed.
The seconds felt like hours as you stared at the test, unable to bring yourself to flip it over.
A knock on the door startled you.
âItâs Madelyn. Are you okay?â
You quickly hid the test and opened the door, forcing a smile.
âYeah, Iâm fine.â
Madelynâs sharp eyes darted to the trash can, where the box sat in plain view.
âY/NâŚâ she began, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern. âAre you pregnant?â
Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded.
âI think so. I havenât looked yet.â
Without hesitation, Madelyn wrapped you in a hug.
âItâs going to be okay. I promise. Letâs look together.â
With trembling hands, you flipped the test over. Two pink lines. Positive.
âOh my god,â you whispered, the weight of the realization crashing down.
Madelyn pulled you close as you started to cry.
âItâs okay. Drew loves you. Heâs going to be so excited.â
âBut what if heâs not?â you sobbed.
âWeâve never talked about kids. What if this ruins everything?â
Madelyn shook her head.
âStop. Drew adores you. Heâs not going anywhere.â
Madelyn helped you gather the girls for a âmandatory ladiesâ meetingâ in the bathroom.
âAre you dying?â Rudy called after you jokingly as the girls shuffled upstairs.
âVery funny,â Carlacia shot back before closing the door.
Once everyone was inside, you took a deep breath and shared your news. The girls gasped, their reactions quickly turning to excitement.
âYouâre going to be such a good mom!â Kelsea squealed.
âIf Drew so much as blinks wrong, weâve got your back,â Madison added, earning a round of laughter.
The next day, the guys decided to go bungee jumping, leaving the girls at the villa.
âYouâre seriously not going to tell him yet?â Madison asked as you lounged by the pool.
âIâm scared,â you admitted.
âYou canât keep this from him forever,â Carlacia said gently.
âI know. Iâll tell him tonight.â
When the guys returned, you greeted Drew with a tight hug. âI missed you.â
âI was gone for a few hours,â he laughed, kissing your forehead.
At dinner, panic set in again when the waiter asked what youâd like to drink. Thankfully, Madelyn saved you by whispering to the waiter to make your cocktail virgin.
After dinner, the group gathered by the firepit, and the girls urged you again to tell Drew.
âYouâll feel so much better once itâs out in the open,â Madison said.
With a deep breath, you pulled Drew aside, leading him down to the villaâs private pier.
âWhatâs going on?â he asked, his worry evident.
âI have something important to tell you,â you began, your voice shaking.
Drewâs brows furrowed. âYouâre scaring me.â
âIâm pregnant,â you blurted out, tears streaming down your face.
âI know we havenât talked about this, and if you donât want ââ you continue.
âWait,â Drew interrupted, his eyes wide. âYouâre pregnant?â
You nodded, unable to meet his gaze.
Drew pulled you into his arms, his grip firm yet comforting.
âY/N, this is amazing. I love you. I love us. Weâre going to be fine. I mean much better than fine.â
His words brought a fresh wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief.
Back at the villa, Drew insisted on sharing the news with the group.
âWeâre having a baby!â he announced, his grin infectious.
The group erupted in cheers, with the guys tackling Drew in a congratulatory hug while the girls swarmed you.
âYouâre stuck with us forever now,â Chase joked.
âYouâve been family for a while,â Rudy added, âbut this seals it.â
As the night wound down, Drew pulled you close, his hand resting protectively on your stomach.
âYouâve given me everything I didnât know I wanted,â he said softly.
You smiled, your fears finally melting away. Surrounded by love, you knew this was the start of a beautiful new chapter.
#drew starkey#rafe cameron#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey imagines#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron imagine#drew starkey x y/n#rafe cameron fanfic#drew starkey x you#rafe cameron x y/n#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey fanfic#drew x reader#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey smut#drew starkey fanfiction
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IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.
Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.
Dead On Main.
---
Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.
The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.
Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.
On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!
It was all fun and games⌠until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.
So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.
Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.
He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.
...
Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.
He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.
His head hurts.
"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence⌠until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.
Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.
The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.
A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. âHa⌠ha⌠haâŚâ fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.
Then, he appears.
Itâs not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. Itâs as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.
âMy, my, how little Robin has grown? But⌠something remains the same, doesnât it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!â
His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.
The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.
"Oh, I almost forgotâŚ" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"
That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real⌠it's not real.
It's not real.
It's not real.
It's not-
"Hey⌠Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.
The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.
And new.
Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.
The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.
Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.
"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. âYou were in pain, and I didnât like it, so I got you out of there. Donât worry, that abomination wonât bother you again.â
Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. âYou⌠saved me?â
âYou could say yes.â
âWhy?â He shakes his head. âNo, wait, thatâs not the question. WhoâŚ?â Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: âWhat are you?â
He seems to have taken the being by surprise.
It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. âYou can call me Void.â
âDid you just make up that name?â
The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. âYeahâŚâ And suddenly exclaims, âAh, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."
That last sentence had given away more than it should have.
"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.
Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."
He needed a break.
...
And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.
After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.
But that's another story.
---
Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.
Part 2
#dead on main#dp x dc#batpham#danny phantom#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#danny fenton x jason todd#dcxdp#dc x dp crossover#void!danny#dead on main ship#i do not know english#i used a translator
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YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesnât speak to your soulâ but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? iâm a sucker for the âhe fell first, she fell harderâ trope, like heâs been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but sheâs an oblivious genius and doesnât realize how deep their affections for each other runâŚâŚ. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but itâs ok bc they smooch and make up in the end
263 DAYS â SPENCER REID!
a lot can change in 263 days.
spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.
a/n â writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but itâs been nice to get back into it đââď¸
WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending
DAY ONE
You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.
The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imaginedâa sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.
The faint scent of coffee and something metallicâmaybe old inkâhangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.
Youâre here. You made it.
âFirst day?â
The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether youâre safe to approach.
Heâs lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like theyâve seen a decadeâs worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.
âYes,â you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. âAnd you must be Dr. Reid.â
He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. âJust Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.â
You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. âNice to meet you, Reid.â
He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesnât. âSorry, I donât uhâ germsââ
âOh,â You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. âSorry, uhââ
âNo, no, itâs not you, Iâm justâ conscious about it,â He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.
You mirror it. âItâs nice to meet you anyway,â
âYou too,â
His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way youâve grown used to from strangers, but more like heâs cataloging details he canât quite put into words. Thereâs no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.
âYouâre nervous,â He says, then winces. âSorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meantâitâs normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,â His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. âIt can be... intense.â
A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. âNot exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,â
This time, his smile reaches his eyes. âIâm not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.â
You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldnât let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.
But something about Reidâhis sincerity, the way he tilts his head like heâs trying to solve a puzzle only you can provideâmakes it hard to resist.
âSo, what brought you to the BAU?â he asks.
The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isnât just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.
âTruthfully? Itâs⌠been a dream for years,â you admit. âIâve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,â
His expression shifts, softens, like youâve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. âThat makes sense,â he says quietly. âYouâll be good at this,â
The confidence in his words surprises you. âYou donât even know me,â
âNot yet,â he says, and thereâs something almost playful in his tone. âBut Iâm usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,â
âAny initial impressions?â
He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. âYouâre smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... youâre kind. I think youâll see things others might miss because of that,â
The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isnât a word youâd ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.
âThanks,â You say, and mean it.
Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. âReid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.â
You glance over to see another manâbroad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, youâd say that Derek Morgan.
Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.
As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when youâre not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if heâs trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.
Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.
The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.
But you also notice the little thingsâthe way he fidgets with a pen when heâs nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like youâre the most fascinating mystery heâs ever encountered.
By the time the day ends, youâre exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.
âYou did well today,â he says, and thereâs no trace of condescension in his toneâjust genuine praise.
âThanks,â you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who itâs coming from.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, âYouâre going to fit in here. I can tell,â
You tilt your head, studying him. âAnd youâre sure about that? Already?â
He nods, his gaze earnest. âI donât know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.â
The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you canât quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.
As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you canât help but think that maybe Reid is right.
Maybe you do belong here.
DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE
The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.
By now, youâve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.
Somewhere along the way, heâs become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.
Itâs not that you donât notice the way he seems to gravitate toward youâitâs just that you donât think much of it.
Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, thatâs just how he is. At least, thatâs what you tell yourself.
The morning starts like any other.
A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhereâspecifically on the chessboard in front of you.
âCheck,â Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.
You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. âI donât like you very much right now,â you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.
âYou donât mean that,â he says, his voice warm.
âDonât I?â you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. Youâre stalling, and he knows it.
âTake your time,â he says, though thereâs a playful glint in his eye. âItâs not like you have anything else to do today.â
You glare at him, but thereâs no heat behind it. âYouâre enjoying this too much,â
âMaybe a little,â
The banter is easy, familiar. Itâs become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.
Reidâs brow furrows as he examines the board. âNot bad,â he concedes.
âIâll take it,â you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.
âLunch?â he asks, already rising to his feet.
âLet me guess,â you say, smirking. âThai food again?â
âItâs efficient,â he says, as though that explains everything.
âEfficient isnât the same as exciting,â you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.
The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
âDid you finish that book I lent you?â he asks, glancing at you.
âNot yet,â you admit. âBut Iâm close. You were rightâitâs better than I expected,â
He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. âTold you. Itâs all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the authorââ
âReid,â you interrupt, laughing. âSave the lecture for later. Iâm still processing and I have a feeling youâre going to spoil the ending,â
He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.
â
Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.
Itâs only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long youâve been sitting there.
âThought you could use this,â Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.
You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. âYouâre a lifesaver.â
âI know,â he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.
He doesnât leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.
âYou know,â you say, glancing at him, âyou donât have to babysit me.â
âIâm not,â he says simply. âI like being here.â
Thereâs something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.
The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.
â
The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the buildingâs heating system.
âCheckmate,â Reid announces, his tone triumphant.
You groan, dropping your head onto the table. âI give up. Youâre officially unbeatable,â
He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. âYouâre getting better,â he says, and you know he means it.
âFlattery wonât save you next time,â you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.
His smile falters, just for a moment, and thereâs something in his eyes you canât quite placeâsomething intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everythingâs okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.
âSame time tomorrow?â he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
âOf course,â you say, watching him.
As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if thereâs more to Reidâs attentiveness than youâve allowed yourself to see.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR
It starts with the little things.
You notice Reidâs uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.
A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why youâd love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because heâs somehow always attuned to what youâre thinking.
Itâs Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. Heâs observant, thatâs his job. It doesnât mean anything more than that.
But then there are the things he shouldnât know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadnât thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.
Youâd dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesnât believe in coincidences.
Itâs a cold, gray morning when the call comes inâa double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, youâre knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.
You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspectâs property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. Itâs quietâtoo quietâand the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.
âI donât like this,â you mutter, glancing at Reid.
He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. âNeither do I. Letâs stick together,â
The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.
You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.
Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reidâs voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
âFBI! Drop the weapon!â
The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a secondâjust long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.
Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.
âYouâre okay,â he says, his voice tight with panic. âYouâre going to be okay.â
You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. âYou canât get rid of me that easy, Reid,â
His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. âDonât joke,â he murmurs. âPlease donât joke.â
His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. âJust breathe. Helpâs on the way. Youâre fine. Youâre fine.â
The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel himâhis presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX
You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.
Heâs sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.
âYouâre awake,â he says, and thereâs a faint tremor in his voice.
âDidnât mean to scare you,â you say, your voice hoarse.
His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. âYou have a talent for understatement,â
He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. Thereâs something in his gazeâsomething raw and unguardedâthat makes your chest tighten.
âI thoughtââ He stops, swallowing hard. âI donât know,â
âIâm alright, Reidâ You offer gently.
He nods, but his jaw tightens as if heâs holding back a thousand words. âYou scared me,â he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. âIâm okay,â you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.
For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if thereâs more to Reidâs attentiveness than youâve allowed yourself to see.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN
The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.
You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easilyâMorgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.
You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.
Itâs when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.
Reidâs gaze.
Heâs looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.
Itâs not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.
The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like itâs punishing you.
Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didnât know you neededâall of it comes crashing into focus.
How had you missed it?
But the thought doesnât end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache youâve felt for months.
The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when heâs near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touchâa brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.
Oh no.
Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.
âHey,â Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. âYou good? Youâve been quiet,â
âIâm fine,â you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.
Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.
Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.
Itâs that smileâsweet and unguardedâthat undoes you.
You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garciaâs voice rises animatedly, the way Rossiâs laughter rumbles like distant thunder.
Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.
And worseâmuch worseâis the fear that youâve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you donât yet understand.
By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you donât know how to name, let alone confront.
As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. âYou sure youâre okay?â he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.
You force a smile, though it feels brittle. âJust tired. Long day,â
He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesnât fade. âIf you need to talkââ
âIâm fine, Reid,â you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.
His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that youâve just realised youâre in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.
âIâll see you tomorrow,â you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.
As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.
Youâre in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO
The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excusesâpaperwork, errands, a headache.
âItâs not you,â you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. âJust busy.â
But it is him. Or rather, itâs you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You canât bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. Itâs easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.
It doesnât feel cleaner. It feels awful.
â
Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.
At first, heâs subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet âAre you okay?â when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.
But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.
One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.
âPeace offering?â he says lightly.
You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.
âThanks, Reid,â you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. âBut I really need to finish this.â
He hesitates, the smile slipping. âDid I... do something?â
The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.
âWhat? No, of course not,â you say quickly, too quickly.
âThen whyââ He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. âWhatâs wrong?â
Your heart sinks. âItâs nothing, donât worry about it,â you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesnât believe them.
âRight,â he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.
The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything youâre not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.
âOkay,â he says, his voice tight. âIâll⌠let you get back to work, then,â
As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words wonât come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if youâve just made the biggest mistake of your life.
â
That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.
âItâs nothing, donât worry about it.â
The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.
Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?
The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadnât done anything.
But facts donât explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.
He doesnât sleep that night, and by morning, heâs no closer to an answer.
But one thing is clear: he canât lose you. Not like this.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE
Itâs late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. Youâre the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.
âCan we talk?â
You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.
âReid, Iâm really tiredââ
âPlease.â His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. âJust a few minutes.â
You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.
He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.
âDid I do something to upset you?â he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. âBecause if I did, IâI donât know what it was. And I need to know, because youâve been distant, and Iââ He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. âI miss you.â
The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. âReid...â You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. âYou didnât do anything. Iâve just⌠been busy.â
âBusy?â he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. âThatâs it? Thatâs all youâre going to say?â
You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. âItâs just... work has been overwhelming, and I havenât had time, andââ
âStop,â he says softly, cutting you off.
You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.
âI know you,â he says, his voice steady now, though thereâs an edge of desperation beneath it. âI know when somethingâs wrong, and something is wrong. You donât avoid people because youâre âbusy.â You donât avoid me unless thereâs a reason.â
You swallow hard, your throat tight. âIâm not avoiding youââ
âYes, you are,â he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. âI just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, orââ
âNo!â The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. âNo, Reid, you didnât do anything.â
âThen why?â he asks, his voice breaking. âWhy are you pulling away from me?â
His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truthâlaying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.
âI canât,â you whisper, your voice trembling. âI just... I canât.â
His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. âCanât what?â
The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see thereâhurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerableâalmost breaks you.
âIâm sorry,â you say softly, the words barely audible. âIâm so sorry.â
And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE
You donât even remember the drive to Reidâs apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.
The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: âWhy are you pulling away from me?â
You canât do this anymore. You canât keep pretending youâre fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.
By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.
Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.
The door opens after a moment, and there he isâSpencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.
âHey,â he says, his voice uncertain.
âHi,â you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
His brow furrows slightly. âIs everything okay?â
âNo.â The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. âCan I come in please?â
He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.
Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.
âOkay, youâre scaring me a little,â he says gently. âWhatâs going on?â
You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.
âI have been avoiding you,â
He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.
âbecause Iâm an idiot,â you continue, your voice trembling. âBecause I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that Iââ You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.
âIâm in love with you, Reid.â
His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, youâll lose the nerve to finish.
âAnd I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared youâd look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and Iâm sorry.â Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. âIâm so sorry, Spencer.â
For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesnât speak, doesnât move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.
âSay something,â you whisper, your voice breaking. âPlease?â
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until heâs standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
âIâve been in love with you since the day we met,â he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.
Your breath catches in your throat. âWhat?â
âI didnât know how to tell you,â he continues, his eyes searching yours. âYouâre brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like Iâm not... like Iâm not so different. I didnât want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.â
His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.
âSpencer...â
He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. âYou donât have to be scared anymore,â he whispers. âIâm here. Iâm not going anywhere.â
Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like heâs afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of himâcoffee and faint traces of his shampooâwrapping around you like a balm.
âIâm sorry,â you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. âDonât be,â he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. âWeâve both been scared. But we donât have to be anymore.â
You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.
âDoes this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?â he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. âYeah, yeah thatâd be niceââ
His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.
The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.
But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.
Itâs overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and itâs as if everything elseâeverything youâve been afraid of, everything thatâs kept you distantâmelts away in that single, perfect moment.
The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything youâve been holding back.
You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if heâs afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldnât express.
The world outside this room fades into nothingnessâthe hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubtâall of it is gone. Itâs just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.
You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. Heâs looking at you like youâre something heâs dreamed of for so long but never thought heâd get to touch.
âYou,â he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted this,â
You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. âI think I have some idea,â you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. âIâm not that oblivious,â
He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. âYeah, well⌠I guess weâre both just really good at pretending.â
âNot anymore,â you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. âNo more pretending. No more running. From now on, itâs just... us.â
Reidâs smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. âI promise,â he says softly. âI promise, I wonât let fear get in the way again,â
You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear wonât keep you apart any longer.
The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.
Thereâs no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment youâd spent together was building toward this.
âYou know,â he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, âI think Iâm starting to like this ânot pretendingâ thing.â
You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. Thereâs no rush nowâjust the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you donât have to hide anymore.
When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. âI love you,â you murmur.
âI love you too,â he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. âIâve loved you for so long.â
The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything youâve both been through.
And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX
Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world thatâs familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.
The team notices almost immediately. Theyâre profilers, after all.
It starts with the little thingsâyour hand brushing against Spencerâs as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.
Morganâs eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.
âSomething you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?â Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.
Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. âIâuh, no, nothing.â
From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like sheâs connecting the dots. âWait a second. Are you twoâ?â
âWeâre not talking about this,â you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.
âOh, we will talk about this,â Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. âJust as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.â
Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, donât comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.
So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE
A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of himânervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askewâmakes your heart ache in the best way.
âHey,â he says softly, approaching your desk.
âHey,â you reply, setting aside the file youâve been working on. âWhatâs that?â
He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. âItâs for you,â he says, a little shyly. âIâve had it for a while, but⌠I was waiting for the right moment,â
Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see whatâs inside: a first-edition copy of a book youâd mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought youâd own.
âSpencer,â you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. âThis isâthis is incredible.â
He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. âI remembered how much you loved it, and, well⌠I wanted you to have it,â
You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.
âThank you,â you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.
Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. Itâs not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.
When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. âI think I like this ânew chapterâ weâre in,â he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.
âMe too,â you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.
As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything youâve built together, you steal another glance at him.
Heâs already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smilesâone of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.
This is where Iâm supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#mgg#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst
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Oh. Oh i need a minute. Oh my goodness. Oh
So I headcanoned that Rapunzel platonically kisses her friends (like forehead, cheek, head, etc) so I wanted to make a post on how they would react to her kissing them for the first time
Starting with Cassandra, varian, and lance
Spoilers for seasons 1-3!!
Cassandra
The first time it happened Rapunzel was congratulating her on something.She would act like she didn't like it, and at first she didn't, i feel like she doesn't really like physical affection unless she knows the person enough, but with time she started to like it. She would always kinda just roll her eyes or look at Rapunzel weird but eventually it became something she loved about her.
If she kisses her when Eugene is around she looks over to him and smirks if she gets the chance (Eugene does the same to Cassandra lol)
During her moonstone arc when Cassandra needed comfort the most she really missed those little kisses and hugs Rapunzel would give her :( she's kinda everyone's comfort person
Varian
The first time it happened she kissed the top of his head while hugging him goodbye and mentally he was like "oh.. alrighty then". Varian has his boundaries when it comes to physical touch but he was totally fine with hugs, kisses, stuff like that from his family and closer friends (and eventually Hugo) . I think he finds physical touch/ personal attention relaxing
(super touched starved. DARE I SAY both Eugene and varian are touched starved as hell)
He eventually gets used to it and doesn't even realize that some people don't get the treatment Rapunzels friends do lol
lance
First time she did it calmed him down pretty quickly. At first he was like "what??" Then he got with the program. I think she makes sure to give lance affection when he's stressed. She's noticing a pattern with these touch starved freaks. Lance loves it when she pecs him on the cheek when she's excited about something or excited for him. He finds it adorable.
If he notices she needs a hug he returns the favor. I like to think he comforted her off screen during season 3 with Cassandra. After she was feeling better she would kinda awkwardly apologize and try to laugh it off but lance reassures her that everyone needs comfort, even her
I'll do VAT7K characters next!! :]
#IM GONNA THROW UPPPPP /POS#HOLDING THIS SO CLOSE TO MY HEART#platonic little cheek/forehead kisses SAVE MEEEEE#Var and lance especially i think are soo physically affectionate. I think with varian in particular#bc quirin was never good with words or emotions sometimes hugging him or giving him a little pat on the shoulder#it was the best way he rlly knew how to show any kind of affection#So yhe first time rapunzel does it he feels kinda awkward but soon shes one of the first ppl hell go to for comfort#i think he starts doing it with team radical too purely bc of rapunzel#The little kisses and stuff i mean. He gives them little goodnight kisses on top of their headsâŚ..#ALSO GODDD LANCE COMFORTING RAPSđđ RAPUNZEL AND LANCE FRIENDSHIP YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS#fave#tts headcanons
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