#flangst??

[etherealpapercut]

prompt: *my own sad ass because i actually have low blood pressure, and wouldn't it be nice if my favourite avengers were there to help me out after i collapsed and was having a bad day?*

~*~*~*~

hypotension

~*~*~*~

fandom: mcu

pairings: platonic!peter parker x gn!stark!reader

genre: fluffy and angsty moments all throughout

warnings: no bad swear words! (yay!) but lotsa fainting and mentions of fainting, it’s implied that y/n is american, lactose intolerance, emotional outbursts, cream puffs. in that order.

word count: 2.5k words

summary: drastic times call for drastic measures and y/n stark is pushed to the edge after a series of collapsing episodes. no one dares go near y/n now, except for y/n’s best friend, peter parker. 

~*~*~*~

you felt lightheaded, and the world began to fade around you. fog invaded the corners of your eyes as your muscles started to give way. one thought stood out among the rest.

oh, again.

all of a sudden, your senses came back to a fatigued body sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. you checked the wall for the nearest clock.

it read 12:05 PM.

you must’ve blacked out for a full thirty seconds by your reckoning. an average time, but it was still a concern. “uughh,” you groan, fighting the urge to completely collapse. this was the third time today. you needed salt in your system, and the faster the better.

you mustered up every last bit of your energy and powered through the weakness. 

“i’m an avenger. i’m the child of an avenger,” you whispered. “i am strong, and am completely capable of walking down a hallway.”

“y/n stark,” a robotic voice blared from unseen speakers. “are you alright? you were unconscious for—”

“yeah, yeah, yeah, FRIDAY,” you mutter. “delete all the security footage of that... scene... please.”

“are you sure? you may want to review this footage at a later time for a full-body diagnostic. i recommend you consume a source of sodium, and drink one full glass of wa—”

“DELETE THE FOOTAGE, FRIDAY!” you yelled. your lungs couldn’t get enough air. the rest of your teammates knew that your body didn’t naturally produce enough sodium for you to maintain a high rough level of blood pressure, but moments like this, when you full-on collapsed, were still very embarrassing. you were glad you were all alone. you threw a suspicious glance behind you just to make sure.

absolutely nothing stirred. FRIDAY continued to speak.

“deleting. i suggest you make your way to the main kitchen. there are pickles in that fridge. ”

you stood up slowly, wary of another attack from your own body. you continued to move slowly, down a hall, up a flight of stairs, past a bathroom, and down another corridor to the kitchen.

when you arrived at the kitchen on the second floor, you weren’t even surprised to see that the rest of the avengers were already there. the kitchen on the main floor was the biggest and best, and today, wanda and thor had done the shopping.

(those two had exotic tastes—which were anything but your typical american cuisine—and everyone looked forward to the meals that they prepared.)

something that smelled thick and savoury was in the oven, and a bowl of fruit was on the counter, surrounded by the others’ cups and mugs and glasses. you made a beeline straight for the refrigerator. 

“heyyy, y/n!” sam called. “what’s up?” he was stationed next to the coffee machine. on any other day, and in any other mood, especially if you had not had three “episodes” earlier, you would have stopped to say hello and make small talk, but today you simply ignored him. to top it off, you barely even heard the man, as blood was rushing through your ears like a waterfall.

tony was standing in front of the fridge.

“well, if it isn’t the great y/n. wonderful to see you finally out of your room.” he joked. “how are you feeling?”

you pushed past his hug and opened the fridge door. tony pouted.

“now, y/n stark, that's no way to treat your father,” steve rogers said from across the counter. everyone heard cap, you included, but you ignored everyone. 

“yeah!” tony agreed. he waved both hands at steve, one empty, the other occupied with a glass of water. some of it splashed, but he took no heed. neither did you, and you continued to rummage through the shelves and compartments, hunting for the pickles. you weren’t finding them, and felt a wave of nausea and exhaustion and an overwhelming mood swing wash over you, you drew up every ounce of composure you had left and turned around.

“hello, father,” you addressed tony cordially. “mr big bird, mc’captain freaking america. that smells lovely, wanda, whatever it is.” you were being very sarcastic. the room had quieted at your condescending tone. 

you blocked it all out.

“where are the pickles?” you demanded.

“where are the pickles?” tony murmured. he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “FRIDAY?” he hollered, “where are the pickles?”

“sir,” FRIDAY said. she said nothing else.

wanda cleared her throat. “uh, y/n, please don't get upset, but i used the last ones in my casserole,” she gestured towards the oven. tuna bake. it was tuna bake. you hated tuna bake. no offense to wanda. the tuna part was fine. but lactose intolerance ailed you as well as your sodium deficiency, and that recipe called for a full block of cheese, four cups of milk, and the worst one of all; half a cup of butter.

everything drained out of you. nothing remained. you hated when you got like this, and you knew when you got like this, but you couldn't even spare anything to apologize. you grabbed tony’s glass of water right out of his hand, took two steps to the mess of spices wanda had left on the counter, dumped a pile of salt into the water and chugged it.

the room went silent. every eye was on you.

you felt sick as you swallowed every last drops of the brine. you tossed the glass into the sink, not caring if it broke, then stumbled towards the door again.

you caught the expression on natasha’s face. she looked queasy. it took a lot to shake natasha romanoff. wanda wore a similar look, hands covering her mouth. your dad just stared after you with a mix of awe, inspiration, and complete disgust. 

it was an eye opener.

many in the room looked about to have a fit. they could all imagine what that might taste like, but none in their worst nightmares would ever try a salt water ratio like you had.

your insides churned. you had the salt you needed but at what a price.

it took several attempts to open your mouth to speak.

“i’m going.”

and with that, you left

~*~*~*~

your destination was the grocery store, granted that you could get out of the avenger’s tower without a huge fuss.

you heard someone walking behind you, probably someone who was determined to follow you and make sure you were alright.

you glanced back, ready to throw hands, but instead spotted peter parker, the amazing spider-man, walking aimlessly on the ceiling behind you. he was fixed on his cell phone, and nearly ran into a light fixture.

he hadn’t been in the kitchen, so he hadn’t seen what you had just done. there was hope of redemption and regained innocence in that prospect. you had a feeling that no one would see you in the same light again. 

you committed many crimes on the battlefield and on the game board, but this was a new extreme. bucky had looked disarmed.

you wiped the salty drool from your mouth on your shoulder and waited for peter to walk by you so that conversation could be initiated. regular convo, linguistics between children of the same generation. the ceiling was the perfect height to talk to anyone on two different planes, specifically between a person on the floor and a person on the ceiling. 

the boy on the roof snickered at something on his screen and kept ambling in your general direction. 

all of a sudden, you wobbled on your feet and had to catch yourself from tripping over thin air. ugh... if that horrid glass of salt water hadn’t been enough to kick your system back to rights, you might explode into tears.

peter’s hood had fallen over his head, but that didn’t block you from being able to see his face clearly. it wasn’t the tiniest bit flushed from being upside-down for so long, and once more, you found yourself marvelling at your friend.

peter stopped walking on the ceiling, and you approached, unsteady on your feet.

“spider-baby,” you address him in a mocking tone. peter acknowledged your voice, but it took him a few moments to stop what he was doing on his phone and look for you in the room. you smirked at him, only a few feet away.

“y/n!” peter yelped, taking several shocked steps backwards. “how did you get on the ceiling?! what thehow are you sticking?” he walked around your head, baffled. “you didn’t get bitten by a spider either, did you?” you flicked his nose when he got in range, taking slight pleasure in his reaction. 

“fool, you’re the one on the ceiling,” you said. 

“wh—wha—oh. yes. that would explain it.” peter flexed and flipped himself around and stood to face you on the floor. he flapped his arms and raised his eyebrows to convey a ta-da! impressive, huh? air, and you smiled at him.

“bro, you gotta stop growing,” you turned, punching him in the arm. the two of you began to walk. Peter towered a full six inches over you. 

“tall people are always nice people, and i am one of those taller people,” peter declared.

you scoffed. “well, one day,” you said, sarcasm and humour loading down your voice, “i’m gonna look up at a skyscraper and realize it has your face on it, and it’s actually you.”

“well,” peter replied, “i may grow, but you will not, and one day, sky-scraper-me might accidentally step on an ant named y/n, which will be a sad day, but it’s too bad you were too short for me to see you.”

you elbowed him playfully, mock scorn written all over your face. peter just took hold of your sleeve and tugged, just about sending you tripping.

sometimes you really forgot how strong he was. 

then all of a sudden, your friend was in the middle of a sentence about his homework, and the end of the hallway had been reached and the two of you were about to turn the corner. 

how—?

your vision went blank, but you were aware that you were still walking, until you hit a wall and fell to the ground.

something like static, or ringing bells, was going through your brain. vaguely and faintly, you could hear peter panicking. 

now what was happening? everything was dark.

your brain processed that your friend’s voice had cracked and he sounded rather high-pitched. it was like a soprano’s. ordinarily, you would have laughed for ages over his voice cracking, but you were paralyzed sitting slumped against the wall. you felt like you were floating through space, until you were really floating and peter was carrying you to the nearest couch.

you hit the couch cushions and bolted upright, scaring peter, every bit of strength coming back all at once.

“peter parker!” you gasped.

“y/n stark!” he cried. “you’re alive!”

“of course! of course i am, don’t cry,” you assured him. peter snivelled. 

“i thought you up and died on me, idiot,” he said.

you rolled your eyes affectionately at your friend. “listen, if i ever died it would be because i was killed, and i’m taking you with me, so don't worry.”

peter nodded. that's what friends did.

“i didn’t know who to alert.” peter mumbled. “i just, uh, called for mr stark. he’d know what to do, right? he’ll come help you. you’re his child, after all.”

you just groaned and shook your head. tony was an overprotective father, yet somehow, simultaneously, an extremely nonchalant one. you knew he would hear peter screaming for him, and dismiss it with a wave, maybe ask FRIDAY to give him an update, or send vision or rhodey over to check up on you if he was really concerned.

“yeah, spider-child, mr stark will know exactly what to do. but we know better.” peter cocked his head. you reached out and poked his arm. “and you know what we need to do? we need to go to the store.”

your friend’s look of confusion prompted you to further explain. “my blood pressure is running low today, and i need pickles or some kind of electrolyte drink to help raise it so i don’t die. we don’t have pickles or electrolyte drinks.”

peter nodded seriously. “so we need to get pickles. pickles and gatorade... and profiteroles, y/n/n, we can't forget the profiteroles.”

you suppressed a grin. profiteroles were a forbidden desert at the avenger’s tower, because everyone would fight over them. who knew that such a simple thing as a box of cream puffs could turn the infamous avengers on themselves in a heartbeat?

this was going to be a top-secret mission to the grocery store.

“profiteroles for sure, pete. after pickles.” you patted your pockets for a pen and paper as peter did the exact same thing. you smirked at each other. 

“anything else for the list?” peter asked. 

“we’ll see,” you remarked. peter jumped to his feet and held out a hand to help you stand up.

“let’s go!”

~*~*~*~

later that night, you and peter hunkered down in your room. your room had a tv. tony let peter live in the tower, but he had said that peter took after him too much, which was true, and if he had a tv in his own quarters, he would get carried away or distracted and stay up all night watching “whatever the hell he watches.”

peter had insisted that the two of you watch star trek, but you had adamantly put your foot down and said that you would prefer to watch star wars. after some argument, you had agreed to binge the original star wars trilogy first, and then end it with peter’s favourite star trek films. 

your trip to the store had turned out to be a trip to stock up on all-nighter supplies such as popcorn, chocolate, and other caffeine, as well as both yours and peter’s favourite candies and a new fluffy blanket.

and, of course, a jar of pickles, which you had cracked open and dug into with desperation as soon as you and peter had checked out.

peter had laughed at you, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. he had even eaten the whole pickle you offered to him on the walk back to the tower. 

after some heated discussion over distribution of the profiteroles, and smuggling everything in (particularly the profiteroles,) without being detected—a process that involved some complicated web slinging—as well as trying not to alert anyone else in the tower of your escapades, the two of you had put on your movies and lt everything relax into a state of peace. 

you yawned. the time was approaching two in the morning and you felt yourself drifting away from the world, but this time, instead of the reason being your blood pressure dropping, it was because of the lulling scene that befell you: a muted tv, lighting the room with a soft air, and your best friend breathing deep and rhythmically as you nestled into each other. 

minus the hypotension drama, i would do this again, you smiled, and let the world fade away into happy dreams.

[spncvr]

hi! i love your writing!! wanted to ask if i could request a small blurb or sth of reader and spencer waking up in the morning?? really cute and fluffy hahah... take your time! :DD

mornings | s.reid

summary: waking up with spencer

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: um it's not smut ?? as in not, "he trhusted into her and growled when she called him daddy"-smut. but. like. u can tell they fucked. i think. kissing and my bad english ANYWAYS

a/n: hi pookie sprry it took me forever to answer this,, i spent the entire day soing math today this is my break. so its not that great pls bear w me crying emoji

masterlist

THE SUN ROSE behind the leaves that hung lazily on the branches. Through the voile curtains, tendrils of the sun rays bled against your skin, that brushed against his. The voile, no longer as pure and lush as it once was, twists and turns against the wind like a dance. The low hum of the city’s heartbeat echoes around the room in a chaotic symphony—and within the room was calm. You smile because for once, he was not somehow tied within this chaos.

Then, a whisper of a touch—his fingers were grazing your hips, uttering a verse only you’d understand.  

Last night, he had kissed you—and maybe, because you thought he wouldn’t stop, because you thought he’d disappear, you pulled him closer, and closer; unwanting to let go. His whispers, pliant to your ears, had never been so soft. He held you; fingers against your waist and skin. His fingers had burned like wildfire; you felt it first against your cheek, your arms, then your hips. He held your heart by his soft fingertips, unscarred and gentle; his words were sugar-coated, leaving teeth rotting and hearts yearning. He kissed you, kissed you and kissed you. And the entire time, you were kissing him back.

You feel his smile against your shoulder, slightly dragging your shirt upwards, and you only hum in acknowledgement, too tired to reply with words. You feel your name against your skin. 

“Hi,” he says, lips kissing your shoulder. 

“Hey,” you manage to reply, and you turn your body so you’re facing him fully—and, when he pries the strands of hair out of your face you smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” he replies. Then, “you’re beautiful.”

You bury your face in his chest, groaning quietly, he laughs. “What?”

“You can’t just say things like that,” you protest, your voice a whisper against his warmth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he says, entirely unapologetic.

You take it though, slowly sneaking a glance at him as you lift your head, to see him smiling down at you (a kind, lazy thing). His hand cups your cheek and he’s kissing you again. There are so many things you need to do today, you think; the paperwork at your desk, and the errands lined up on your to-do list in your phone that you never bother to update. But you were so tired, and Spencer’s lips were so soft. When his nose nudges against yours, your mouth lazily falls open. His fingers are on your waist, his thumbs painting shapes against your skin.

When he pulls away you tell him you love him, and you don’t need to wait for him to tell you that he loves you too.

guys reqs r open but its gonna take me a decade to actually write them so be warned LMAOOO (+ for the people asking for pt.2 to waiting room ITS BEING MADE!!! so excited to share sakjnskfjb)

[mischievousmoony]

Hiiii!!! i absolutely love your writing and i wonder if you wouldn’t mind writing a james potter x fem!reader thingy. Basically where she is out with some

friends that are absolute dicks and basically they ‘dare’ her to walk home in the dark alone whilst she is drunk and she agrees became se she just wants them to like her but she realises how much of an idiot she is and so she walks to James’ house where he comforts her and stuff.

if not don’t worry

love you!!!!

changed the prompt up a little hope it's okay lovie <3 i also made it a bit long for my definition of a drabble but thats ok hopefully u think the more words the merrier luv u

𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 2.3k ⟢ warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, intoxication, social anxiety briefly mentioned, implications of how dangerous the situation was, for some reason i used this as an opportunity to practice writing imagery so sorry if it's too much

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sharp, crisp wind nips at your skin as you walk down the shadowy, deserted London streets, the echo of your heels clicking against the pavement being the only sound that punctures the eerie silence.

A misty breath passes your lips and you hug yourself a little tighter, your hands making futile attempts at smoothing the goosebumps that dot your arms. You mentally curse yourself for listening to your "friends" when they said a jacket would ruin your outfit, wondering if this was their plan all along.

More tears fall as your mind wanders back to the friends you thought you were making and the bitter wind swiftly dries them against your cheeks, leaving your skin tacky with the salty residue.

What was supposed to be an opportunity to forge new friendships with some girls from your class took a devastating turn when they all crammed into a taxi without you, leaving you tipsy and stranded with their parting taunts ringing in your ears.

"Wait, we won't all fit," you had jabbered facetiously, the gravity of the situation not yet apparent to your drunk mind as you clumsily stumbled towards the car, your heel catching on a crack in the pavement.

One of the girls snickered as she wrenched the door of the black cab open, "That's a shame, innit?"

"I suppose you'll have to find another way home," another girl remarked, the others laughing along, barely bothering to suppress their amusement.

The carefree smile you sported faded from your face, feelings of dread and alarm creeping up your chest as you murmured, "My phone is dead, I won't be able to call a car."

"Sounds like you'll be walking home tonight," one of them sneered with a cruel edge.

"W-what?" you stammered, your chest rising and falling with a frantic rhythm as the sobering situation sinks in, "Walking back to my flat would take close to an hour."

The last girl to pile into the car— the one who originally extended the invitation to their night out with warmth and enthusiasm— looked up at you from her seat in the taxi with a mix of feigned sympathy and cruel delight. Her eyes gleamed with sly satisfaction as she leaned out of the car and took the door handle into her grasp.

"Well, then you better start," she declared, her tone punctuated by a mocking laugh and the slam of the car door.

You wish you could say that there was a sudden flip in their behavior the moment the taxi pulled up, but the abrasive way they conducted themselves around you all night should have had you running ages ago. But your naivety and desperation to make friends clouded your judgement, you supposing that it might simply take more than one night for the girls to warm up to you.

The sound of the car screeching away still rings in your ears as you brave the streets alone, trudging in the opposite direction of your flat. The hour walk to your home— more if you walked along the safest path you could think of— was too daunting on your mind. Your desperation to get off the streets steered you to your boyfriend's instead, his flat being half as far as yours.

If it weren't for the overwhelming unease you felt, you might have been too embarrassed to face James tonight. But your nervous edge was enough to send you hastily fleeing to his flat, it being well into the A.M., and you being alone— dressed in an outfit you were only comfortable wearing around a swarm of girls you thought had your back— and barely able to hold your own after medicating your social anxiety with a few too many cocktails.

When you finally arrive at the familiar stoop to James' place, you feel a wave of relief wash over you as you stagger up the stairs, leaning heavily on the iron railing for support.

Your knocking is incessant as you mutter pleas under your breath, desperately hoping James is sleeping lightly tonight. It feels like more time has passed than it actually has by the time the door creaks open.

James appears in the doorway, clearly just out of bed. His hair is tousled more than usual, stray strands sticking out unevenly over his forehead, and his clothes are wrinkled from tossing around in his sleep. He straightens out his glasses that lay crooked over the bridge of his nose as he processes your presence, his face a blend of sleepiness and alarm.

You utter his name weakly, a fragile quiver that reveals your vulnerability and distress. James' heart breaks at the sound and he wordlessly pulls you inside and envelopes his arms around you. You let him pull you in and your hands find the plush cotton of his jumper, gripping onto it like a lifeline.

James' mind races with worry, trying to piece together what could have happened to put you on his doorstep, tearful and distraught, in the middle of the night. He knows that you had gone out for some drinks at some bar downtown. He also knows that you weren't supposed to be alone and that you were supposed to take a taxi home— these being the answers to questions he asked earlier to ensure your safety.

The possibilities of what could have went wrong fill him with a profound sense of dread, and he tries not to let himself get carried away with the nightmares that swirl around in his mind.

Wrapped in his arms, you kick your heels off to the side somewhere. The shoes were killing you, and one more second in them and you might have collapsed into a heap on the floor.

James can feel you tremble against him when you settle, a result of the cold and lingering fear from being outside, inebriated and alone.

"You're freezing," he whispers, his voice hoarse from his recent slumber and edged with worry as his large hands come to rub your arms. He frowns at the iciness of your skin.

It's James' first instinct to break the embrace and tug at his collar, pulling the jumper from his own back to drape its warmth over you instead, leaving him only in his joggers that hang lazily from his hips.

The cotton is still warm with his body heat when it cocoons you and the scent of him on the fabric brings you comfort. You sniffle pathetically when you meet James' large, sorrowful eyes that brim with concern as your head pops free from the jumper's collar. He smoothes the fabric over your body quickly before his hands climb up to your face.

The pads of his thumbs sweep away stray tears as he cups your face, his fingers brushing softly along your jawline as he tilts your head to meet his troubled eyes.

"What happened?" he asks, notes of concern in his voice as his thumbs trace soothing shapes into your cheekbones.

An anguished whimper sounds in your throat and more tears begin to spill. You shake your head, unable to find your voice to explain.

"That's okay," he murmurs, pulling you back into his chest as he cradles your head in his hands, "It's okay, my love, I'm here. You're safe."

He coos tender words of comfort and reassurance in your ear, his voice steady and soothing. One hand lowers to gently rub your back until the tremors in your body gradually subside and you begin to feel a sense of security build back up.

James only pulls away when the rise and fall of your chest slows to a steady rhythm. Brown eyes meet yours and he offers a reassuring smile. He murmurs words of beckoning and leads you deeper into his flat. He doesn't take you far, just to his sofa so he can get you off your feet. You're thankful, the blisters from your heels becoming almost unbearable to stand on.

Your boyfriend sits first, gingerly pulling you down onto his lap, both craving your closeness and understanding just how much you need him right now. You curl up with your legs folded in front of you and your knees drawn close to your chest, your side pressed snugly against his torso. One of his arms wraps around your back for support, while the other rests casually over your legs, his large hand comfortably settling on the back of your thigh.

His head lulls forward until he can nuzzle into your hair, his breath warm against your ear as he softly prompts, "Think you can tell me what happened now?"

You sniffle once, letting your lungs fill with air before you stammer into a hesitant explanation. Still embarrassed over the whole ordeal, everything comes out in a small, quivering voice, starting with the awkward tension at the bar and ending with the way they laughed as they cruelly left you on the curb.

A whirlpool of emotions rages in James' chest. He doesn't understand how anyone could be unkind to his lovely girl, and he certainly doesn't understand how anyone could be so heinous to leave a person alone on the street like that.

James swallows hard, his next question living on the tip of his tongue until he has the strength to ask it. His tone is unwaveringly serious, low and intense in its level of concern, when he finally does.

"Baby, please tell me you walked straight here. No one gave you any trouble?"

"No," you shake your head, "no trouble."

James feels his whole body relax at your words, and a noise hitches in the back of his throat as he releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. The overwhelming flood of relief and emotion threatens to bring him to tears, but he manages to hold them back. His eyes close briefly as he presses closer, his nose smooshing against the side of your head as he presses kisses behind your ear.

Your eyes flutter shut too as you allow James to cradle you in his arms. You think about how you almost tripped a few times, but you know that's not exactly what James is worrying about. Although, you can imagine he'd fuss over that too, checking your knees and palms for scuffs and kissing the skin there just because you could've hurt it.

As you feel the tension drain from his body beneath you, you think about how his fears mirrored your own.

"I was scared there would be," you admit in a small voice.

"I know my darling girl. I'm so sorry," he leans back, tilting his head to the side so he can meet your gaze. You don't miss how his eyes are glassy when they lock onto yours with calming intensity, "You're safe now, I've got you." He presses his lips to your forehead, lingering there as he mumbles, "I'm sorry this happened."

"I thought I was making friends," you choke out, the words cracking with the weight of the betrayal.

James feels his heart break all over again.

"Those girls don't deserve to have you as friend."

"But I want friends. It was so easy in secondary school. I've always had you, and Lily, Sirius, Remus. Everyone."

James listens intently, his sympathetic eyes gazing upon yours once again.

"I'm all alone at uni. And I don't why nobody likes me," you finish in anguish.

James promptly moves his hand from your thigh to cup your cheek, "Listen to me. You're lovely, so lovely. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend, alright? You're going to find people who think so too."

"And you have me," he corrects. "You still have all of us. I know things are different now, and I bet you're missing having friends in your classes, yeah? But uni's only just started. You're gonna find your people."

"You think so?"

"I know so, lovely girl," he says, his thumb flicking the tip of your nose endearingly, "I was already a goner the first time I spoke to you. And if I remember correctly, you and Lily were thick as thieves after one day of knowing each other. Right?"

You hum affirmatively, remembering the first days of friendship with the people you now call family.

"See? You're good at making friends. It's 'cause you're amazing, anyone with a brain can see that. Those girls are just bloody idiots." James' features take on a sour look when he thinks about them, but with you in his arms, he can't sustain his irritation for long— especially not with you smiling prettily at his words.

"There's that smile," he mumbles fondly, and your giggle is music to his ears. You stay like that for a moment, trading smiles and tender caresses.

Eventually, James' expression shifts, his brow furrowing as he becomes stern.

"Next time you go out, I'm gonna pick you up. I don't care how late, I don't care who you're with. And I'm buying you a portable charger for that phone."

"Okay, Jamie," you agree softly, recognizing the firmness in his voice that leaves no room for argument, and finding it a bit endearing how fiercely he cares for you.

He relaxes again with a sigh. His hand, which still remains cupping your cheek, pulls you a fraction closer.

"I'm happy you're safe, love. I'm happy you came here." Each of his words is wrapped with sincerity and affection. "I love you," he says earnestly.

"I love you too," you whisper, the same depth of emotion laced in your words.

He guides you even closer, meeting you halfway with a tender kiss to your lips. It's a beautiful blend of sweetness and innocence, a soft brush of lips that envelopes you in a blanket of sweet serenity, making you forget what it was ever like to be scared.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[thepenultimateword]

Hello everyone! As October approaches, I've been hearing a lot about the very popular Whumptober. However, since I'm not much of a whump writer, I decided to go ahead and make my own Flufftober challenge!

For those who don't already know, this challenge involves following a prompt for each day in October. I am writing blog, so I'll be writing, but feel free to follow these prompts in the medium of your choice! Also, you can participate as much or as little as you like. Technically, the challenge is for the entire month, but if there's a day you're not vibing with the prompt or you just don't have time, don't stress. This is purely for fun.

If you're not one for pure fluff, flangst (fluff/angst) is also perfectly acceptable.

Let me know if you have any questions! I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I'd love to see what you all come up with! So if you so choose to share, tag me in your posts or use the tag #flufftober2024 (however others creators have also made their own flufftobrs, so things will get mixed up a bit)

Flufftober 2024 Prompts

Day 1: Rainstorm

Day 2: Fireplace

Day 3: Sweater Day

4: Apple Cider

Day 5: Hurt/Comfort

Day 6: Cuddles

Day 7: Protective

Day 8: Secret Relationship

Day 9: Sickfic

Day 10: Pumpkin Patch

Day 11: Hugs and Kisses

Day 12: Blankets

Day 13: Harvest Festival

Day 14 Coffee Shop

Day 15: Ghost

Day 16: Sweet Treat

Day 17: Breakfast

Day 18: Nostalgia

Day 19: Scary Movie

Day 20: Reunion

Day 21: Sleepy

Day 22: Whisper

Day 23: Finally Safe

Day 24: Confession

Day 25: Holding Hands

Day 26: Monster

Day 27: Cleaning up

Day 28: Embarrassed

Day 29: Leaf Fight

Day 30: Roadtrip

Day 31: Found Family

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter fourteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slightly suggestive, canonical violence, heavy mentions of blood/injuries, angst with some fluff at the end

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Hermione Granger was coined the smartest witch of her age for many reasons. Although brave and courageous at heart, she was wise and ambitious to the very marrow of her bones. It's how she noticed your changing affections for Mattheo Riddle, perhaps even before you did.

It started no earlier than October, when you no longer complained about your desk partner in Ancient Runes; when you'd meet up with her after the tutor sessions with bright eyes and a genuine smile, which she had not seen since the weeks leading up to the Department of Mysteries battle last summer. She knew what Riddle was like, but seeing the spark reignite in your soul began to change her perspective of him. Maybe he was inherently good after all.

When Harry told her and Ron what he had discovered about the two of you, she wasn't even a little surprised, but she was surprised that Ginny, too, was not in the least bit affected by the revelation. She watched in forlorn silence as Harry singlehandedly cut you off from them, despite everything you had done for him; everything you'd sacrificed. She had spent many nights berating him in the common room with tears in her eyes.

You were her very first friend at Hogwarts. You'd met on platform nine and three quarters in your first year and exclaimed that you absolutely adored the celebrity on the cover of the magazine she happened to be browsing through. Hermione had thought you were a muggleborn like her and was disappointed when you said you weren't. But she was elated to hear that your mother was just like her. You spent the entire trainride chatting about muggle affairs and your favourite books, and had both gotten up to help Neville find his toad which is how you met Ron and Harry.

You were the person she turned to when Ron first took to being a horrid nuisance to her. You were the person she went to for help finding out about Nicholas Flemmel and the Philosopher's stone. You were the person who wrote double the amount of notes in second year, while she was petrified, just so that she could have knowledge of all the things she'd missed out on in her absence. You were the one to subject yourself to Bellatrix Lestrange's cruciatus curse so that someone could help Harry fight of half a dozen Death Eaters by the arch in the strange room in the Department of Mysteries.

You were her sister and her best friend.

And she felt completely undeserving of all those years of sisterhood as she watched you traipse around the castle like a ghost for days, after the argument with Ron transpired outside the Hospital Wing.

She had slapped him so hard when they'd gotten far enough away from the sounds of your heart wrenching sobs. The sound had echoed so loudly through each of their ears, and she did not care about how Ginny had gasped in shock horror at her action. Or the way Harry flinched as Ron cradled his reddening cheek. It was well and truly deserved.

She did not speak to Harry or Ron for two weeks. Now she only offered vague, one-worded answers to their incessant questions. They acted as if they had done nothing wrong. It infuriated her.

Hermione wanted to find you and apologise profusely. As did Ginny. But each time they got the nerve to find you, you were surrounded by a guard of snakes. The Slytherin boys were extremely protective of you and it seemed that Mattheo no longer cared for secrecy; openly showing that you were his for all the world to see, though subtly enough that only those with keen eyes saw. Hermione saw.

You looked happier with them than you had ever been with any of your old friends. Hermione often wondered if you were meant to find them; wondered if she, Ron and Harry had been holding you back from your true potential.

She admired you. She loved you. She had to make this right.

She cornered you after an Ancient Runes lesson. A ballsy move, considering Mattheo, Theo and Pansy formed a protective wall of imposing doom behind you, like fallen angels promising retribution. She steeled her gaze, looked between all three of them, shot the true intentions of why she was doing this to their minds – she knew they were digging through her thoughts by the pin pricks in the back of her head. But not from you, never from you, although she would never hate you if you did.

"What do you want, Granger?" It's Pansy who speaks up first, her voice dark and promising unspeakable terror, if Hermione so much as said one thing out of line. She watches as you reach for the hand that softly brushes against your own and grip it with all your might; Mattheo's hand.

"I wanted to speak to you." she says directly to you. "Alone, if possible."

She can see the way Mattheo is about to rebute this.

"If not that's completely fine." its rushed and laced with desperation and you can see the emotions clouding your ex-best friend's face. The guilt and the longing. You want to hear her out.

You squeeze Mattheo's hand once before letting go and speaking to them all, without opening your mouth.

I want to hear what she has to say. You guys go ahead, I'll find you later.

Pansy's look of uncertainty is remedied by your insistence that you'd be fine, and Theo is a little reluctant but follows behind her. Mattheo is a silent and imposing statue of simmering rage at your side. And by the uncomfortable look on Hermione's face, you know he's in her head.

If she comes back crying, believe me when I say that you will regret it Granger. And if this is a farce to satisfy Potter's cruelty, he will pay for it too.

"Harry doesn't know I'm here. Neither does Ron. Ginny should be outside, she wants to talk too. I-if that's alright?"

"It's fine." your voice is softer than she's ever heard. Like you're wholly unsure if you can trust her word. It's a foreign and devastating feeling. And she hates it.

Mattheo's hand brushes your's before he reaches up and squeezes your waist affectionately, departing after Theo and Pansy moments later.

The classroom is blissfully empty. Now it's just you and Hermione, alone. The silence is tense and awkward as you each wait for Ginny to walk through the door.

She arrives moments after Mattheo's departure, steps slow and hesitant. But as she sees the two of you she releases a heavy sigh of relief and launches herself at you.

She's hugging you so tightly. Squeezing and squeezing until your arms, which are limp at your sides, instinctively wrap around her frame. She's mumbling apologies into the neck of your blue and bronze lined robe, body racking with subtle sobs, that you mirror as you melt into her embrace. Hermione joins you both after a moment and the three of you sink to the floor, twin tears streaking down your faces, apologies and words of love and hope echoing off the walls of the classroom.

Eventually the hug ends and the three of you are sat in a small circle between the desks, voices low and quiet as you listen to what the other has to say, all the while, Mattheo is a welcome presence in your mind, offering infinite reassurances as your heart races in your chest.

Hermione tells you how Harry and Ron seem like totally different people now. How she slapped Ron and did not utter a singular word to Harry until he apologised to her.

"Look I'm sorry, alright." he said one evening in the common room as she was researching for an upcoming essay. "Please talk to me, Mione."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to." she mutters, not taking her eye off the words on the page. Harry scoffs as he sits down. "If you're going to bad mouth my best friend then go and find Ron. I don't want to hear what you have to say."

He rolls his eyes before he stands up and walks away.

Ginny feels terrible. She hadn't known it was you and Mattheo in the corridor until she heard his distinct low and raspy voice, too late. She wasn't quick enough in deterring Harry away from the space and she regrets it immensely. And the look on your face after Ron had shouted at you plays repetitively on her mind at all hours of the day.

Guilt errodes at your souls and all three of you feel the weight of it like you're being held beneath the surface of a very deep lake.

When the two of them finish explaining themselves, you inhale harshly before letting out a calming breathe.

"I can't say that your actions didn't hurt. Because then I'd be lying." you say, voice clouded in emotion. "I have been outcasted by everyone I thought I could call a friend. Even my own housemates don't speak to me. You didn't do anything to stop that, which really hurts."

There's a lump in your throat that continues to strain with every word you utter, eyes burn with the onslaught of more salty tears.

"I know that you don't trust them. And you have every reason not to. I understand that. But they have been here for me, when the two of you weren't. They've shown me what it means to be surrounded by kindness and safety and I love them all equally, no matter what has been said and done in the past. Yes they work for you-know-who. But they had no choice. You know who their families are, hell we fought most of them in June. They've been forced into this and I just want to get them out."

Ginny reaches over to squeeze your hand. You let her.

"I-" she pauses and looks at Hermione, who reaches over for your other hand. "We want to help you. In any way we can. We'll help you appeal to Dumbledore-"

"He already refused my plea for help." you say with a grimace.

Hermione gapes. "B-but he always says that-"

"-Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask." you say at the same time as she does. "Yes he said as much, and then followed with saying that they don't deserve to be helped."

"That's completely unfair." Ginny mutters. "If you were asking for anyone else he'd help in a heartbeat."

Hermione mumbles her agreement, face painted in complete disbelief at your revelation. She always believed that Dumbledore was a good and just man, but maybe she was wrong.

"We'll appeal to the Order." Ginny says. "Tonks' mum was in you-know-who's clutches when she went to the Order for help. And now she's effectively protected for life."

It's a good idea. It may work. But you have your doubts. The current members of the Order held their own prejudices, much like Voldemort's Death Eaters did.

"Tell your friends about the idea. Tell them that we'll try." Hermione says earnestly. "Nothing will ever justify our behaviour towards you, but let us make it right. Please. It's the least we can do for how badly we treated you."

What are they saying right now? Mattheo asks you, voice painted with curiousity.

They're going to help me keep you all safe.

And how, pray tell, will they achieve that? Mattheo sounds like he adamantly does not believe your words.

They have a way but I'm honestly not getting my hopes up until its more of a solid plan.

Okay, I trust you. How do you feel, love? His voice is a soft caress to all the corners of your mind. It's like he can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves.

I've got mixed feelings. I want to believe that they truely do mean what they're saying, but actions speak louder than words.

Even though you say that, Mattheo already knows that you'll forgive them. He may not agree with it because, in his opinion, they do not deserve your forgiveness, but he understands that you'd been akin to sisters for years before his family welcomed you into their circle with open arms. Of course you'd forgive them eventually; it doesn't mean that any of your found family would, though.

Hermione and Ginny watch as your eyes glaze over. It's obvious that you're talking mind to mind with Mattheo by the way your face heats with a blush and your face is alight with a soft, yet dazzling smile.

The three of you had once gossiped, in the cosy confines of the younger girl's bedroom, that Ginny's oldest twin brother was the perfect guy for you, but judging by your expression, they knew it then and there......Mattheo Riddle was your soulmate and you were completely and irrevocably in love with him.

An hour later, the three of you were sat under the shade of a willow tree that overlooked one of the beaches separating the Black Lake from the main courtyard.

It was as if there was never a blip in your friendship. Like old times. It felt normal. But there was an underlying feeling that everything was different at the same time. And the three of you had wordlessly accepted that fact.

"He needs to get rid of that stupid book." Hermione mutters dismally as you watch Harry and Ron stroll by, not sparing any of you a glance as they stare down at the battered Potions book in the former's hand.

"Still jealous that he's gotten better at potions than you? You're not top of the class anymore." You tease and she throws you a playful glare.

"Nevermind that. It's insidious." she says. "Just the other day he was asking if I'd heard of some kind of spell that was, quote on quote: 'for enemies'. It's completely ridiculous."

"I can't say that I disagree with you Mione." Ginny says grimly. "I overheard him telling Ron that he really wanted to test it out."

She shivers as if a blanket of cold was just thrust upon her. You're left bewildered. Harry seemed like a wholly different person and you didn't know what to make of it.

~∞~

A week later, you'd come to terms with the new state of your friendship with Hermione and Ginny; your Slytherin friends were weary at first when you told them of their plan to involve the Order, but it was Theo and Blaise who agreed tentatively to hear them out.

You tried to build a bridge between your two opposing groups, and it worked somewhat: Hermione had bonded well with Theo and Ginny found a kinship in Pansy's fierce spirit as well as Enzo's witty humour. Even Luna, who had accompanied Ginny one day to see you, had found solace in Blaise's quiet and calm nature.

Draco was the most alert by your insistence of them all speaking – he was weary that Hermione did not like nor trust him and she was uneasy around the boy who had called her unsavoury names for years. But even Hermione could see how worn down and tired Draco looked, and cut him some slack.

After another drooling day of school, you were lying in Mattheo's bed, clad in nothing but one of his dark tshirts as you lied against his chest, breathing in his alluring scent of cedar, musk and smoke. After completing your homework together, the two of you had nothing better to do than laze about, sharing languid kisses and slow, soft sex.

You were talking quietly to one another, sweet giggles and deep chuckles passing between you as you bathed in the serenity of each others' presence. Mattheo's hand was tracing circles against the back of your thighs, causing you to shift away with a breathy laugh.

"That tickles. Stop it." you say, mirth shining in your eyes as you playfully glare at him as his fingers dance across your soft, sensitive skin.

"Or what?" he challenges with a smirk that has you sitting up against his stomach, the ridges of his abs brushing sensually against your aching core.

Safe to say, your clothes ended up on the floor once more and the room was once again filled with your combined sensual moans and whines.

Later, you're cuddled against him again, tired and spent as you allow sleep to overtake you. But it never comes. Enzo and Ginny burst through the door in a panicked flurry.

"Ever heard of knocking, Berkshire?" Mattheo snaps, but at the look of alarm painting his friend's face, he sits up in rapt attention.

"What is it, Enzo?" he asks, using one hand to pull the duvet over your bodies to shield you from their averting gazes.

"It's Harry and- and Malfoy." Ginny says, breathlessly as if they'd run here. "They're dueling in one of the second floor bathrooms."

That statement has the two of you scrambling for your clothes as Enzo and Ginny leave to wait outside the door.

Uniforms shoved back on in a hurry, rumpled and creased from your earlier activities, the two of you follow behind the panicking pair as they lead you to Moaning Myrtle's floor. You hear the duel before you see it. Draco and Harry are throwing insults and curses back and forth in rapid fire blows. You would be mesmerised by the feeling of all the power that sings to you, if you weren't so worried and horror stricken at what you'd stumbled into.

Upon entering the scene you can't help but gape at the destruction. The porcelain sinks lining the marbled walls are cracked and broken, crumbling to the floor; pipes bursting with a never ending onslaught of spraying water that washes across the floor like tempered glass.

Your arrival distracts Draco momentarily as he turns towards the four of you, weariness clouding his light grey eyes. It's all the time he needs for Harry to surprise all of you with his menacing words as he casts the final spell, signifying the end of the harrowing duel.

"Sectum-sempra!" he shouts and Draco releases a pained yelp before falling to the floor as Ginny gasps in horror. Blood soaks the water around him, spreading out like slick oil against it as he writhes in pain. Slashes of blood saturate his white shirt, as if a knife had been hacked against his skin.

The room is a flurry of activity as Ginny starts shouting at Harry as Enzo and Mattheo pull out their wands defensively. But you pay them no mind, immediately going to Draco's side, trying your best to comfort him as you rip open his shirt to see the damage that Harry had caused.

His torso is caked in blood, gashes of skin torn open by the force of the spell. He's lying in a pool of it, the volume increasing with each passing second. Draco was dying. Slowly and painfully.

Moaning Myrtle appeared from the pipes screaming "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!" repeatedly as you worked tirelessly, which was not helping the onslaught of overwhelming emotions that were bubbling to the surface.

It's okay. You're okay. You need to stay awake Draco. Please stay awake. You reassure him as you mumble a series of spells. He begins writhing more.

Episkey doesn't work.

Ferula fails to expell bandages large enough to cover the gaping holes in his chest.

Basic wound sealing spells are cast in vain.

You have tried everything you can think of. But nothing is working. Tears of frustration begin to slide down your cheeks.

"What's taking you so long?" Enzo shouts at you, drawing your attention away from Draco. Your breathing is panicked and uncertain and Mattheo tilts his head towards Enzo, a silent threat to watch his tone as he sees the slick flow of tears running down your face.

"I don't- nothing is working." you say breathelessly. "I don't know what to do."

Ginny looks horrified. As do Mattheo and Enzo. Harry only looks intrigued, no trace of guilt paints his face. You narrow your eyes at him.

"It's from that book, isn't it?" you accuse and he flinches at your icy tone. "The Half Blood Prince wouldn't be stupid enough to not know a counter curse. What. Is. It?"

He doesn't answer you fast enough for Mattheo's liking. Despite not understanding what you're talking about, he turns to the bespectacled boy with barely contained rage as he points his wand in the direction of the 'Chosen One'.

"Answer her, Potter!" he snarls and Harry snaps his head in Mattheo's direction, shooting him a glare until Ginny screams at him to answer you.

"Vulnera Sanentur." he says reluctantly, as if he was waiting to see how long the effects of the spell he cast would take place. As if he was waiting for Death to sink it's claws into Draco's soul.

Immediately you work on each of the gashes on Draco's torso and they begin to heal over for the most part, but he's still loosing too much blood.

"Someone needs to help me seal his wounds properly. I can't do it by myself." you say desperately and Enzo is immediately at your side, both of you mumbling the spell and casting your wands over the various wounds that litter Draco's pallid skin. Meanwhile Mattheo and Ginny stare at Harry as if he'd grown two heads, sharing a knowing look of understanding that Harry does not miss, nor does he like. He grits his teeth at his enemy and the girl he's infatuated by as Ginny, not so subtly, inches closer to Mattheo's side. Mattheo's eyes soften at the fear coating the younger girl's cerulean eyes.

No sooner than you'd entered the fray, Professor Snape comes gliding into the room, face livid, and pushes you and Enzo away from Draco's still writhing body. He performs the healing charm with practiced ease, going over each jagged cut, that you failed to heal, with graceful precision. If you weren't so overcome with emotion, you would've put the glaringly obvious pieces together.

The flow of blood eased rapidly and the wounds knotted together intricately as he repeated the spell, tenderly wiping away the blood that coated Draco's face. You knelt close to his side, reaching out to stroke his limp hand, which was alarmingly cold to the touch. You and Enzo were both covered in a mixture of blood and water which soaked through your uniforms, sticking to you like a second skin.

No sooner than he'd arrived, Professor Snape had Draco leaning against your side and was talking softly to the boy, who was barely conscious.

"You must go to the Hospital Wing. There may be some scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. Come...."

With Enzo's help, he supported Draco across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter – You will wait here for me."

Harry, at least, had the gall to look ashamed.

You're still kneeling on the floor, staring at your blood soaked hands when Mattheo appears in front of you, taking your hands in his, paying no mind to the blood soaking through his trousers.

"You did good, darling." he says softly, so only you can hear, neither pay attention to how Ginny inches closer to you two, away from Harry's wide eyes. "So good."

"If Snape didn't turn up–" you don't want to finish the sentence, don't even want to think about what could've happened.

"If he didn't end up coming, you and Enzo would have worked tirelessly to seal Draco's wounds to the best of your abilities." he reassures you, having read the emotions as clear as day on your face. "Come on, let's go and get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You allow him to pull you to your feet and you're only reminded of his presence when Harry scoffs.

"Got something to say, Potter?" he snarls as his hand rests against the small of your back, at Harry who glares at Mattheo obstinately.

"He cursed Katie Bell. We all know it. He deserved what he had coming for him. I can't believe she willingly helped him after everything he's done to us. After everything you have done."

He spoke as if you were not standing right in front of him. You barely recognise the boy who you called your best friend for nearly six years. Harry had barely finished his sentence when Mattheo had left your side and launched at him, throwing punches and blows in Harry's face. That's not to say that Harry did not return the favour. Both boys' blood mingled with the softening pink whorls in the water. You and Ginny were screaming at them to stop; they did not acknowledge your pleas. The last time they fought like this was over a year ago.

The conduit around your neck crackles with energy and you fight the urge to break it. Instead you wrap a fist around it almost instinctively and draw out power that surges through the room, separating the two from eachother with little to no effort. They're both panting and glaring at eachother as they fight against the restraint of your power.

"That's enough." you say firmly, voice loud and commanding in the silence, wholly different to its usual cadence. Ginny is staring at you in awe, as Mattheo stares with pride. Harry looks at you with uncontainable fury and fear.

Because you're glowing.

There's a faint indigo aura surrounding your body that pulses with energy as you hold the two boys away from eachother. When Mattheo stops fighting you, you let go of the hold and watch as they slump in their spots on opposite sides of the room, both sporting matching wounds of split lips and bruised eyes.

"What the fuck are you?" Harry mumbles to himself, just as Snape returns to the bathroom. The professor looks at you in barely restrained approval before instructing you, Mattheo and Ginny out of the room. You each go without hesitation, leaving Harry at the mercy of a furious Snape.

~∞~

Parting ways with Ginny at the intersection between your two common rooms, Mattheo lets you guide him towards the Ravenclaw tower, which was closer to the dungeons that were on the opposite side of the castle to where you currently were.

He follows you silently, staring at you as if he can still see the faint glow of the indigo aura that surrounded you. He didn't think you could get any more ethereal. You prove him wrong every single day.

"Do you think Draco will be okay?" you ask quietly as you reach the polished bronze Knocker that conceals the entrance to your estranged common room.

"He's strong. I know he'll be okay." Mattheo reassures you, but he chooses not to tell you that Draco's fate will be far worse if he fails to fix the wardrobe that they'd been working on for the better part of half a year. All their fates would be far worse.

You breath out a relieved sigh in response, just in time for the Eagle to blink preternaturally at the two of you. You laugh softly as Mattheo shivers at the utter human-ness of the brass eagle.

'I can break. I can be clogged. I can be attacked. I can be given. I can be kept. I can be crushed, yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?'

It only takes you a moment to figure out the riddle and Mattheo sees the exact second that the answer fills your head, even as his stays blank with confusion.

"A heart." You say and he swears that the eagle winks as the door swings open, paving way for the sea of eyes that stare at the two of you in horror.

You realise then that your still covered, practically head to toe, in Draco's blood, skirt and knee high white socks soaked through from the water, stained a light pink. Shaking yourself out of your haze, you grip Mattheo's hand and drag him towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories, ignoring the eyes that are burning holes into your skin as you retreat.

You wandlessly unlock the door that leads into your dorm room and watch as Mattheo stares around in awe.

"I've never been in here before." he says quietly and you turn to him with furrowed brows.

"Yes you have. Haven't you?"

It dawns on you then, that in all the months you'd known him, you had never consciously invited him into your bedroom. It had always been his common room; his dormitory or the Room of Requirement. Never your's.

"No. I haven't." he responds, laughing at the surprise that appears on your face as he casts his surveying eyes around your room. "It's very you."

"Thankyou?" you respond questioningly which causes him to laugh more, then wince as the movement of his laughter tugs at the cut that splits his lip.

Eyes full of concern you direct him to your bed and push him down by his broad shoulders to sit, ignoring the way his brows wiggle suggestively while you find a first aid kit to remedy his injuries.

He's still smirking when you return from the bathroom, green box in hand, which you place by his side as he guides you to stand between his parted thighs. The two of you bask in the content silence as you use a damp flannel to wipe away the dried blood that has begun to crust over his soft skin, mumbled apologies escaping your lips whenever he hisses if you accidentally catch one of his cuts with the fabric.

"You could easily wish these away with a bit of magic, you know. It's a thousand times faster." he says, hands caressing the backs of yours thighs as he looks up at you, but he makes no move to stop you or push you away.

"That feels uncaring." you mumble in response as you use a bit of rubbing alcohol against the cut on his lip. "Sorry." you say as he winces.

"It's alright, love." he mumbles, leaning his head into your stomach once you finished. "Potter can really throw a punch."

Your laughter comes out as a scoff. "Maybe. But you should've seen the state you left him in."

He smirks against the damp fabric of your shirt and you swat at his curly head when you practically feel his ego inflating.

"I did give him a good beating, didn't I?"

"You're so vexingly arrogant." you say with a soft laugh that has him leaning out of your stomach to stare at you again, a mischievous glint reflecting in his honey brown eyes.

"It's one of the many attributes of mine that you fell for though, isn't it Princess." he says with so much self assurance that you just have to roll your eyes, but it's difficult to hide your smile.

"Shut up." you reply as his arms reach up to wrap around your middle, bringing you into his embrace, but he cringes away at the feel of your still wet clothes.

"Let's get you out of these yeah? You're practically shivering." he says as he untucks your shirt from your skirt, affection and...and love overtaking his soft eyes as he stares up at you, quietly stripping you of your ruined clothes that he throws into a pile at the foot of your bed.

~∞~

"Thank you, Théo." you say quietly, almost in a whisper, after you're both fresh and clean from a shower, all wounds healed over with a bit of his magic.

"What for?" he asks you, just as softly, hand reaching up to brush a loose wisp of hair that had fallen into your face.

You don't answer him, not verbally at least, instead pressing a slow kiss to his mouth that he happily reciprocates, leaning in until he's hovering over you, trapping your body below his.

For protecting me. For defending me. For giving Ginny stability, despite how you feel towards her. I saw the way she gravitated towards you. Just...thank you. Your words have his mouth working harder against your's, causing a moan to escape you as his tongue licks against the seam of your lips, which part eagerly for him.

Always, sweet girl. I will always defend you and those of your friends who are worthy of defending. He replies before detaching his lips from your's, with retraint.

"Weasley could have easily let Enzo find us himself, could've even encouraged Potter to continue their duel. But she didn't; she watched a boy almost die, watched her friend heal the same boy who terrorised you all for years. She could've easily gone to Harry's defence, but she didn't. She looked to us for direction. Not him. That says a lot." he said aloud with a sigh, strands of his curly hair falling over his forehead, causing his eyes to twitch in irritation.

You used the tips of your fingers to coil the stubborn curls away from his face as he speaks, a new sense of admiration, trust and calm washing over you as you stare at your lover.

"It may take time for me to trust her, Granger too," he continues. "But I see how much she looks up to you, trusts you and vice versa. I can learn to forgive them for their wrongdoings. For you, my love."

"Thank you, Théo." you repeat as you bury your face into his shirtless chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He smiles as he presses a kiss to your temple, unaware that today's events would spiral into something unfathomable that Mattheo Riddle should've seen coming from miles away.

~∞~

did i mention how much i love soft!matty😫😫 (in every chapter since they got together 😵‍💫😵‍💫)

i had to end it with some fluff because i'm sure you can guess what's gonna happen in the next few chapters lol

also thought id let you know that meadow's siphon powers are now fully manifested, she just has to learn how to control it (which we see briefly in this chapter)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

[dreamsontheirway]

Cardigan | S.R.

Summary: the cold AC in the building causes the reader to have a... bodily response, and Spencer is protective. Warnings: nipples? Word Count: 0.7k

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It was a hot, summer day for Virginia, whose climate often didn’t exceed the high 70s. Today it fell around an unusual 85, and the BAU was clearly not used to it. The AC was turned up to max cool in the office and although it felt nice, you had the occasional shiver spike down your spine.

You had chosen a short sleeve maroon colored top today, and it was on the tighter side. You always felt warmer with additional fabric, so you thought the figure-hugging top would cool you off as opposed to something loose-fitting. It certainly had done its job, but your lack of a jacket or cardigan had resulted in the amplification of a certain feature on your chest.

You had noticed, obviously, and shifted uncomfortably each time you saw them. That’s something women unfortunately are forced to think about. Additionally, not that you had to wear a bra, but you were wearing one, it just happened to be quite thin. Once again, your choice was determined by the temperature outside. You couldn't have guessed that the BAU would choose to have the AC on its fullest blast.

Luckily for you, you worked with professionals. Even if they noticed your compromised situation, it wasn't like anyone was going to say anything. Or even care all too much, for that matter. You decided to let it go, and continue your work. They were just nipples; everyone had them.

Spencer Reid felt differently about the situation. He had first noticed the fact that you were shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Then he noticed the occasional shivers on your bare arms. After that is when he caught sight of the small peaks protruding from your chest as a direct result of the chill air.

Spencer had blushed, despite having seen that area of your body with less clothing on than now. He felt uncomfortable thinking about the intimate moments he shared with you whilst at the workplace. Further, he found himself feeling protective of you, as well as those precious moments. The thought of someone else merely considering these private parts of you left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

At first, Spencer observed the situation, not wanting to make a scene and embarrass you more than he could assume you already were. He would have lent you something to cover up with, but he too dressed minimally for the weather.

Spencer continued his work, occasionally sneaking a glance at you just to make sure you were still okay. As Spencer looked up once again, he noticed an intern walk through the bullpen. The intern was young; he must have been in his very early twenties. Spencer didn't recognize him and he assumed he must be from a different department.

Spencer blatantly observed the young male practically gawk and drool at your chest as he approached you. He stopped and began chatting with you about something Spencer could not see. The young genius could feel his face heat up with irritation and annoyance.

Spencer was steadily growing irate and he seriously considered giving you the shirt off his own back. Then he remembered -- he had a cardigan in his bottom desk drawer. He had put it in his drawer of miscellaneous items back in the winter. Just in case, he had recalled thinking. He mentally gave his past self kudos for remembering to leave it there.

He quickly unlocked the bottom drawer and snatched the tan, knitted cardigan from its depths and beelined to you.

"Hi darling," Spencer cooed, and draped the cardigan over your shoulders. He took it a step further and pulled either side of the article of clothing across your torso, covering your chest.

You were taken aback. Spencer was typically too shy to use pet names to refer to you, unless it was just the two of you. His assertiveness in covering the exposed part of you filled your body with a familiar warmth.

Spencer stared at the intern, his jaw clenched. The young man got the message and politely said goodbye to you.

You turned around in your rolling chair, evidently unwrapping yourself from Spencer's grasp.

"What," you began, blushing. "What was that?"

Spencer opened and closed his mouth. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was bashful.

"I could tell you were uncomfortable earlier with your," he paused, "with your situation, and I just didn't like the way he was looking at you."

You smiled at your boyfriend, appreciating his thoughtfulness. He was right; you had been uncomfortable, and you cherished his ability to notice these intricacies. You pulled the warm cardigan across your chest again, like Spencer had done moments ago.

"Thank you."

"Yeah," Spencer murmured meekly, "anytime."

-----

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[ericityyy]

Hi :D I was wondering if we could have a georgie cooper x reader where the reader comes from a family of pagans so they’re perceived as kinda freakish by most of the town and georgie develops a crush on her?

please, and thank you

𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵? 𝘖𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤?

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘖𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2,552

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Hi, I know we’re not close, but would you like to come to my birthday this Saturday?"

The girl who was asked looked at her friends while trying to stifle their laughter. “I’m sorry, I would love to, but I can't,” the girl finally said before walking out with her friends, laughing on the way.

"Oh, uhm, that’s okay.” Y/N sighed sadly when she crossed out another name on her list, looking at all the other crossed-out names. “I guess it’s just me again.” The girl smiled bitterly while deciding to sit on the stairs, observing how students come and go from room to room.

The bell rang, and all the students, one by one, went their own way. The girl, after seeing the last student go inside a classroom, waited for a minute or two before going to her own subject.

"Ah, Ms. L/N, care to explain why you’re late today?” Miss Ingram, the math teacher of Medford High School, paused with her writing and turned her full focus on the girl who just entered, making the other students turn their attention as well to the girl.

Y/N was about to answer before she was cut off by one of the football players of the school, “Maybe she was doing her voodoo freakshow to make us like her.” The class laughed except the Cooper brothers, one because he did not get the joke, while the other because the ‘joke’ was not funny.

“What do you mean by making us like her?” The girl that Y/N invited earlier frowned at the jock as she turned her attention once again to the standing girl. “It clearly didn’t work.”

Ms. Ingram pointed at the students angrily, “You better shut all your mouths before I make you all go to the principal’s office.” Least to say, they ignored her.

Y/N, too embarrassed to move, stayed in her position with tears gathering up in her eyes. “Oh no! Careful! You’re going to make her angry and take revenge on us!” The same girl pretended to act scared and put the back of her hand on her forehead, causing more laughter to erupt from the class.

A loud screech from a chair made the laughter stop as Georgie stood up and approached the embarrassed and humiliated girl. Offering her a napkin from his pocket and smiling softly at her.

Y/N is surprised, to say the least. Her glossy eyes looked at him with confusion and shock. No one has ever been nice to her at school before. Heck, no one has been nice to her during her, period. With the exception of her family, of course, and some old neighbors of theirs, but that was it.

Georgie then looked at the class with fury in his eyes and said, “Anybody wants to say something else?” No one answered for a minute when Sheldon raised his hand. The older Cooper boy rolled his eyes at his little brother and said, “Not now, Sheldon.” The said boy looked flabbergasted at first before slowly lowering his hand down.

“Ms. Ingram, if it’s okay, I’d like to take Y/N out of the class for a moment," Georgie politely asked the teacher, who smiled sympathetically at the girl.

Sympathy. Not many like to be pitied, but this moment brings comfort to Y/N to think that somebody actually cared enough to feel sympathy for her.

“Go ahead, Georgie.” The teacher then turned her eyes back to the class. “While I will bring some students on a field trip to the principal’s office myself, how does that sound?” Ms. Ingram smiled wickedly at the now cowering students.

While Sheldon smiled excitedly, “Oh boy! The principal’s office.”

"Oh, you’re not going, Sheldon.”

“Aww”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Y/N fiddled with her pendant nervously, occasionally looking at the boy pressing on the vending machine as she sat patiently on the bench nearby. The two of them are alone currently at the hall.

A hand with a drink was thrust in her direction, particularly in her line of vision. Y/N looked up and saw Georgie’s smiling face. She meekly took the drink from him and drank it, looking down at the bottle and staying quiet.

Georgie, knowing not to push her into talking, sat down beside her, with a good amount of space left between them, and drank from his own drink. His cool demeanor contrasts with the way his heart is beating. He took a big gulp from his drink to calm his rapid heart. Alas, it didn’t work at all.

Being with the girl he has been admiring all year and sitting beside her is doing something to him. He flinched a little when he heard her speak.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled shyly at his direction, “from kind of saving me back there." She then lifted up the drink with her hand, “and for the free drink." She returned her attention back to the napkin that she'd been gripping, “and for the napkin. I promise I’ll give it back to you soon.”

Georgie shrugged coolly from beside her. “It’s all good; as long as there’s no harm done to my napkin, it’s all good.”

Y/N furrowed her brows together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The boy then widened his eyes, realizing that his words might be a little offensive given the situation that happened earlier. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that." He was cut off when the girl laughed a little.

“I was just joking, Georgie.”

Georgie breathed a sigh of relief, shaking his head playfully at the girl who fully smiled at him. His smile, though, turned down a little. "So, how are you? With all that?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, hurt gracing her features. “Y'know, disappointed but not really surprised. It’s how people see me, my family.” She fiddled with her pendant once again, making Georgie’s attention turn to her hand. “I don’t mind being called a witch, y'know; it’s just—when people use the word in a bad way and call me and my family a freak just... hurts.”

She smiled bitterly. “It’s not like I’ll do something to them; it’s my beliefs, and I don’t need them to be friends with me; I just need them to be open-minded to it.” Y/N dropped the pendant, letting it hang around her neck, before releasing a big sigh.

Georgie looked at the girl softly, scooching closer to her, which the girl took notice of and said, “Well, I’ll be your first audience.” Y/N slowly smiled at that, nudging her shoulder to his. “I think paganism is an interesting belief; would you mind explaining it to me?” Georgie asked the girl, hopefully. In his case, it really is an interesting religion; he didn’t just say that to ‘get the girl’.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled at that before an idea came to her mind: “I’m actually having this small party at my house this Saturday; it’s my—“

“Birthday, yeah, I know.”

The girl blinked multiple times, snapping out of it. “I was wondering if you, I don’t know, would like to come?”

Georgie nodded his head without even letting the girl finish, “I would be honored to, ma’am.” He held her hand in his, raising it up to his lips and letting it touch the back of her hand softly.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

On Saturday, Georgie made sure to look presentable before going to Y/N’s place. And that means taking a long shower, shaving, spraying cologne, and putting on his best outfit. By that, it meant that he looked anywhere for his best outfit; there’s currently a mountain of clothes on his bed.

He styled his hair perfectly and looked for any creases on his shirt. Once he’s done, he exits his room and takes his car keys before going to the front door. “I’m going out for a bit!"

“Now, hold on a second there, mister.” Mary walked into the living room and stopped her son from further going out the door. “Where do you think you’re going, Georgie?”

Georgie released the door knob to properly face his mother and said, “A friend’s house.”

Mary smiled teasingly. "Oh, is this friend a girl?”

“Yes.”

Mary then dropped her smile after learning about this new bit of information. “Then why are you going to her house? Are her parents there? Is she your girlfriend? Who is she anyway? When am I going to meet her?”

Georgie sighed, rolling his eyes at his mother before answering all of her questions: “It’s her birthday. Yes. No, although I plan to court her someday. She’s Y/N L/N. I don’t know when she’s okay with it.” He looked at the watch on his wrist before facing the door once more. “I’ll get going; I don’t want to be late.”

After her son left the house, Mary was left shocked. “Did he just say L/N? Oh Lord, bless his heart and guide him through this.”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Georgie wiped his hands and touched his hair to make sure it stayed put and not a strand was out of place. “You can do this,” he repeated to himself before knocking on the door.

The door opened up, revealing an older woman around her mid-40s. "Well, hello there, you must be Georgie.” She opened the door more to offer the teenager a handshake. “I’m Y/N’s mom; please come in, dear.”

Georgie shook her hand before entering the new home, a gift in his hand. It wasn’t really a big gift, and it made him nervous about whether she'd like it. The L/N’s house is a simple two-story house with a few plants inside and paintings hanging on the walls.

“Y/N! Dear, you have a visitor!”

“Coming!” And then she walked in the living room, with this simple blue summer dress and her hair done, with her pendant hanging around her neck. “Hi, Georgie. Thank you so much for coming.” Y/N walked over to the gawking teenager, his mouth left agape as he stuttered out a response.

“Hi—this gift... for you.” Georgie gave his gift to the girl. “I mean, this is my gift for you. Happy Birthday, Y/N." He nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “It’s nothing much really, just a simple one. I hope you like it.”

Y/N took the gift and opened it, revealing a bracelet—an engraved bracelet with the runic letters spelling her name. “Oh my—Georgie, where did you buy this? I love it; thank you so much.” She hugged him, which left the boy more speechless than he ever was.

"Oh, it’s all good. I’m not sure about the spelling of the name, so if it’s wrong, I can fix it."

"Wait, wait, what do you mean fix it? You made this? ”

Georgie looked at the girl for a moment before shyly nodding his head. Their stare was broken by a flash, and the two of them looked to the side where they saw Y/N holding a camera in her hand. “I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” She slowly put down the camera, smiling sheepishly at the pair. “Sorry.”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“So what’s your plan for the future, Georgie?” Y/N’s dad asked the boy as they ate.

Georgie swallowed the food before answering, “I actually don’t know yet, sir, but I would love to have my own business someday.” He picked up a glass for him to drink and said, “To be honest, I’m not that great at school, not like my little brother, Sheldon, so I don’t plan on going to college, but I would like to build my own business.”

“A business, huh? Well, you can tell me how I’ll help you, son; I’ll sponsor you as long as I can.” The man smiled at the young boy who beamed at him. “But you have to prove to me that my help wouldn’t be futile.”

"Yes, sir, I won’t let you down.”

Y/N smiled at the two of them, but not until her father asked what religion Georgie is. The teenagers looked at each other first before the girl let Georgie answer.

“I’m actually Christian; my mother is religious and all that, but I am not a full believer," Georgie answered truthfully, hoping that his religion wouldn’t be a problem to him courting Y/N in the eyes of her family.

“Oh, it’s fine if you don’t fully believe it if it doesn’t feel right with you," Y/N’s mom said with the girl’s dad nodding his head along with her. “We, pagans, are different from each other. Like Y/N here, for example, she believes more in the Norse gods but worships them a bit differently than traditional worship.” The woman pointed to her daughter, who smiled shyly, “She’s considered to be an Eclectic Pagan.”

Georgie takes in the new information and says, “That’s cool. Do you guys like to recruit or something?"

This time it was Y/N who answered, "No, no, we do not ‘recruit’, we let people do it of their own free will. Pagans tend to believe in many gods and goddesses, while some believe only in one; other pagans can believe in your God if they choose to.”

“Woah, that’s really interesting.” Georgie’s mind was prepared to ask more questions to the family, who, by the way, are happy to answer them.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. L/N," Georgie said as they walked him to the front door as nightfall had already come.

Y/N’s mom moved to hug the boy and say, “No, thank you for being a part of my daughter’s birthday.” She pulled away with teary eyes, then whispered, “You have my blessing, by the way, to court her.” The woman winked at the stunned teenager.

“I won’t hurt her, I promise.”

“Oh Georgie, pain is part of love; as long as you treat her like she deserves and have proper communication with her, all is well.” Y/N’s mom caressed his cheek before pulling away to let him and her husband talk.

“Remember what we talked about, son. I’ll help you as long as you help yourself too.” Y/N’s father shook hands with the Cooper boy, who nodded his head at him eagerly. “I trust you won’t screw this up, both the business and my daughter.” He raised a brow to the teenager, who just let out a chuckle nervously.

“Dad!”

“I’m only joking, sweetie, right, Georgie?”

"Yes, sir, of course.”

The parents walked off to give the two some privacy. The teenagers walked outside as they stood there on the porch, with the only light being the porchlight. “I’d like to thank you for coming to my birthday and celebrating it with me. And for the gift. And for everything else.”

Georgie just smiled and nodded his head behind her. “I’m actually glad that your parents liked me.”

“Of course they would; what’s not to like?” Y/N unconsciously said before gasping when she realized what she said.

The boy started grinning boyishly, “Well, I best be on my way, ma’am.” He lifted her hand once again and kissed the back of it; he put it down but was still not releasing it. “Happy Birthday again, Y/N.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

I tried to make this as accurate as possible. Clearly, I am not a Pagan, but I tried to research and study more about the religion but please, correct me if I’m wrong.

How about a part 2? Where the Cooper Family met Pagan!reader? Let me know what you think about that.

[lunarlando]

Hi I just saw ur girl dad lando requests r open and ran over bc I'm obsessed with dad lando too and there's simply not enough fics on it unfortunately.

Anyway my fic/blurb idea is fluffy and slightly angsty? so lando and fem!wife!reader's daughters r in their teens and and they're used to reader (their mum) typically being the "bad cop" and lando being the "fun parent" who will spoil them and can never say no to them when reader does. One day readers tired of her teens hating her for being the mean one so they decide to switch roles and the girls r rlly confused and angry at lando and start being nice to reader who's enjoying watching lando take her place for once. Maybe the girls ask to go out to a party or ask for new phones or smth u can decide. Ignore my request if it doesn't seem interesting 😭 and have a grt day byee xx

thank you for the request! a few other grid kids make an appearance, hope that's okay! and lando is such a fun dad type guy you're so right x

feel free to request more :)

Having teenage girls was not an easy feat.

You were warned of the terrible twos and gotten through them twice with your sanity intact, but nobody had ever warned you about teenagers. You suspect it should’ve been a given, but when you thought about having teenagers you always saw yourself as the type of mum who your daughters would feel close to.

Now that you’re the mum of a sixteen and seventeen year old, you find yourself becoming the opposite. You’ve turned into the bad cop between Lando and yourself. He’s the fun parent, you’re the party pooper. He spoils Estelle and Delilah because he can, because he loves his girls more than life itself, and you’re stuck reining in his gift giving because you don’t want them to become accustomed to always getting what they want when they want no matter the cost.

Even when you put your foot down on some of their more extravagant requests, Lando finds a way around it. 

Part of the reason Lando spoils them so much is because he was still racing in Formula One when both of them were born and while they were growing up, so he’d miss things sometimes. He tried his hardest not to miss bigger events like their birthdays and holidays, but other stuff like their school recitals, sports games—he did the best he could, but a lot of the time it just never aligned with his busy schedule. 

Now that he’d taken a step back from being in the seat of a car for the past three years, he was trying to make up for lost time. 

“I feel like the girls think I’m a hardass,” you sigh as you’re getting ready for bed one night. Lando is brushing his teeth, but he sticks his head out of the bathroom at your words, frowning at you with the brush still in his mouth. “Do you think they hate me?” 

“You’re their mum, they don’t hate you,” he replies through toothpaste bubbles, wrinkling his nose at you. “All you’ve done their whole lives is take care of them. How could they hate you?” 

“Because I’m their mum,” you say pointedly. Lando cocks his head, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “Mums and daughters are different from mums and sons. Trust me.” 

“Okay, fair. But I don’t think you’re a hardass. You’re just…firm with them, is all.” 

You snort unattractively, looking at him pointedly. “Yeah, I have to be, mister take my credit card, buy whatever you want.” Lando hums thoughtfully, disappearing back into the bathroom to finish washing up before reappearing and padding over to his side of the bed. “I love that you want them to have everything they could ever dream of, and I say this with nothing but even more love, but you’re not the best when it comes to saying no to the girls.” 

“I know. I just…I hate it when they look so disappointed and sad.” 

“And you think I do? I don’t want to be the bad cop, but someone has to,” you grumble, setting aside your book. Lando snuggles up close to you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “You should try it.” 

“Ha, that’s funny.” 

“No, I’m serious, Lan. Tomorrow, we switch roles. You’ll be me and I’ll be you, and then you’ll understand,” you propose, smiling at him in that way you know he won’t be able to resist. All these years and you’ve still got your husband wrapped around your finger. 

“That doesn’t sound like a good time.” 

“Oh, it won’t be. Not for you, at least. But we’re a team, aren’t we?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.” 

—

Fortunately for Lando, things at the Norris household don’t get interesting until nighttime the following day. 

“Hey Mum, we’re going out tonight. Just wanted to let you know since we might be out after curfew,” Estelle says absentmindedly, not looking up from her phone. Beside her, Delilah giggles quietly, ever her older sister’s follower. You want to tell them no—their curfew is late enough as it is and they’ve got school tomorrow—but you refrain. It’s Lando’s turn to be the bad cop. 

“Sure, I don’t see why not. Ask your father first though,” you reply instead. From the couch where he’s watching some rerun of an old grand prix, Lando straightens at the mention of his name, twisting around to look at you with wide eyes. You raise a brow, tilting your head at the two girls who’ve turned their attention on their dad. “Go on, he’s listening.” 

They share a confused look with each other, but you can see the gears turning in their quick teenage brains. If mum said yes, dad would definitely say yes. Easy.

Or so they think. 

Delilah bounces over to sit on the couch next to Lando, smiling at him widely. “Hi daddy! Can we go to a party tonight?” 

Now Estelle’s sitting on his other side, bringing out the same patented charming Norris grin. “Well, it’s not really a party. More like a few friends hanging out. Super laid back.” 

“Uh huh. Gonna need some more details, lovebugs,” Lando hums, flashing their same smile right back at them. There’s no use in trying to play the guy who invented the game. “Who’s gonna be there, where it is. You wouldn’t want your mum and I to worry, would you?” 

“Um…” Delilah balks. She probably wasn’t expecting him to ask so many questions. He usually doesn’t, just says yes because he can’t bring himself to say no to them. 

Estelle cuts in before her sister can potentially dig them into an inescapable hole. “Adrien’s going, Clara and Maeve will be there too, and Teo.” 

Adrien and Teo—Charles’ and Carlos’ sons, respectively, and Clara and Maeve—Oscar’s twin daughters. You know that she knows the two of you trust your friends, so name dropping their kids would give them a fighting chance. She’s smart like that. You’d admire it more if her intellect wasn’t aimed at sweet talking her parents. 

Lando sneaks another panicked glance back at you, and you shake your head slightly. That solidifies his resolve, because as much as he doesn’t want to disappoint them, you have an agreement, and a deal’s a deal. “Sorry girls, it’s gonna be a no. We’re all staying in tonight.”

“What?” 

“Let’s do something as a family, yeah? Game night? Or you can do some laps on the sim, I know how much you like that,” Lando offers up, as if enticing them with sim racing would soften the blow of their dad’s first no. 

“Seriously? But dad, it’s not a party! We’re just gonna watch a movie or something!” Estelle exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

The girls share another look with each other, this one more irritated than confused. Lando just tries his best to stay firm looking. You, on the other hand, watch the whole thing play out from where you are, fighting to hide a smile, because now he knows how you feel all the damn time. It shouldn’t please you, but as someone who’s been taking the brunt of their teenage-ness for a while now, it brings you just a smidge of joy. 

“That doesn’t change things, unfortunately. You two will be staying here with your dear old parents, and that’s it.” 

“That’s so unfair though!” Estelle huffs, rolling her eyes. 

Lando cocks his head at her, brows raised in challenge. “I’d watch the attitude if I were you, Stell.” 

Delilah switches her tactic to try and salvage things, coming over to where you’re still chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter. Out of the two of them, your youngest knows exactly where her mum’s soft spot lies. “Mum? We just want to hang out with our friends. Please?” 

“You heard your dad, girls,” you say, shrugging. “If he says no, it’s no. Sorry.” 

They disappear down the corridor grumbling to each other rather quickly after that, no doubt already texting their friends about how awful their dad is. It almost makes you laugh, because for once, you’re not the one they’re mad at. Lando trudges over to you, pressing himself against your back in a rather dejected hug. 

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” 

“Is this what it feels like to be you?” he groans. You can feel him frowning against your neck and you chuckle, running your fingers through his curls affectionately. “We’re setting some more ground rules, effectively immediately.” 

“Like what, don’t be mean to your mum? They’re teenagers, Lan. It’s what they do.” 

“I was never like this.” That draws quite a laugh from you. “What?” 

“So if I call your parents and ask them if you were ever a little shit when you were younger, they’d say no?” 

“...Don’t call them.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You kiss his cheek gratefully still. “We balance each other out well, I’d say. I don’t mind being the bad cop sometimes, but you can’t just be a fun dad all the time.” 

“But it’s so fun being a fun dad,” he whines, but you know he understands. “I don’t have to feel like this.” 

“You’ll get over it, darling. They will too, and we’ll be back to the same old thing tomorrow.” 

“I love you, bad cop.” 

“Love you more, fun dad.”

[omgrachwrites]

The Night We Met (Chapter One)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin's mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year

A/N: Soooooooo, I'm back!! I'm so sorry for being away so long guys! This is the shortest chapter ever so I'm v sorry, I also didn't really know how to write Mattheo 100% as he is complete fanfiction! I hope you guys enjoy anyway and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

Chapter One

Harry Potter was worried about his twin, she’d been so secretive recently, ever since the first week of summer. Harry knew they weren’t kids anymore but Y/N was his best friend and they used to tell each other everything. James and Sirius knew that something was up when Harry mooched into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” his godfather laughed as he drank his tea.

“Where’s, Y/N?” he directed the question at his dad, ignoring Sirius. James shrugged as he leaned back in the kitchen chair.

“She’s off playing Quidditch in the woods, you know how she gets when she wants to be alone.”

Harry nodded, he did know but he was still a bit miffed that she hadn’t asked him for a match, “she’s supposed to come with me to Ron’s for tea,” he muttered.

At that moment, Lily walked into the kitchen and kissed her son on the cheek, “well, she’ll be back by that time.”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile for his mum’s benefit, but he just knew that something was going on with her. And, he was worried about her.

You cursed beneath your breath as you all but ran home, you had nearly lost track of time, you had nearly forgotten that you were having tea at the Weasley’s tonight. As you walked through the front door Harry was coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled and you felt your guilt begin to brew in your stomach, “have fun playing Quidditch?” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You could tell he was hurt but he’d never admit it, he’d never understand either and you hated doing this to him, “well, I would have asked you to join me but I know how busy you must be pining over Ginny Weasley.”

Harry scoffed as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “you’re my sister, and my best friend, I’m never too busy for you.”

You smiled, “thanks, Harry. I’m just gonna get ready and then we can go to Ron’s,” you traipsed upstairs without waiting for a reply. On the way to your room, you passed your dad, “why did you tell Harry that I was playing Quidditch?” you sighed.

James frowned, “what in Merlin’s name was I supposed to say, Y/N?” he continued when you shrugged, “you are your brother’s best friend and I know he’s yours but you need to tell him before he finds out for himself. Now, I don’t approve but you’re not a little kid anymore.”

“See you later, dad,” you sighed as you walked into your room to get ready.

As you and Harry were leaving the cottage and were walking up the path, Harry groaned out in dismay.

“What’s the matter?” you laughed but Harry didn’t reply or look at you, he kept staring ahead with a scowl on his face.

You followed your brother’s gaze and saw that Malfoy was passing by with his friend Mattheo Riddle, as soon as Malfoy saw Harry, his face lit up with malice, “alright, Scarhead?”

You glared over at Malfoy before glancing at Riddle who was smirking at you, you scowled at him, keeping your eyes on him long enough to see him raise his eyebrow, a smug look forming on his face. “C’mon, Harry just ignore them,” you glared at the Slytherin boys as you pulled Harry away, Riddles smug face in the back of your mind.

Dinner at the Weasley’s was always something to look forward to, Mrs Weasley’s cooking was amazing and you always had a laugh with the big family. However, this year it was different, it was almost awkward, you had to watch your brother try – and fail – to flirt with Ginny. Ron and Hermione were also starting to fall for each other, though they were the only ones who couldn’t see it. You had managed to keep your embarrassment in check until it was time to sit down for dinner.

“So, Y’N, dear,” Molly started, “are you in love yet?”

Ron snorted into his food as your eyes widened and you felt a flush creep up your neck, you shook your head as you looked up at Molly, “no, I’m not.”

“I think Y/N is trying to get onto the national Quidditch team with how much she’s been playing it this summer,” you forced a smile at your brother but said nothing more, and your love life wasn’t brought up again.

After dinner, you decided to leave early and without Harry, usually you and Harry would stay for as long as you could but the guilt in your stomach hadn’t settled yet. It made it virtually impossible for you to be around your friends when you felt like that. It was when you were getting ready for bed that the knock on your patio door came and startled you.

You sighed when you saw the handsome Slytherin boy standing out on your balcony, you padded over and opened the patio door, quickly ushering him inside.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, “what are you doing here?”

He smiled and cupped your cheek with a warm hand, “I wanted to see you before I head back home, I feel like I haven’t seen you as much recently.”

You scoffed and looked away from him, crossing your arms over your chest, “you literally saw me today.”

“For like an hour,” Mattheo sighed and kissed you softly. Your fingers delved into his thick curls as you briefly kissed him back before you pushed him away, “what’s the matter?” he asked, resting his forehead against yours.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, you couldn’t see how this relationship – if that was even what it was – would work at Hogwarts, it was too much sneaking around and you had to keep a lot more secrets at school than you did at home. Also, you didn’t have the heart to tell him your relationship had an expiry date. It really seemed like you were lying to everyone.

“Y/N,” Mattheo started, biting his lip, in that moment he looked so vulnerable as he stared at you with wide eyes, and you almost forgot who he was. Almost. “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go back to Draco’s, you know he’ll be there.”

“Mattheo,” you sighed but he interrupted you before you could say anything further.

“Please, Y/N? I promise I’ll be gone before your parents wake up.”

You cupped his cheeks and fought back tears, “you have to go, everyone is in danger if you’re here.”

Mattheo looked like he’d been gut punched and he pulled away from you so quickly it was like you’d burned him, “right,” he hissed with a nod, “the scum can’t put the perfect Potter’s in danger.”

“I never said that!”

Mattheo sniffed as he wrenched open your patio door, “you didn’t have to. Goodnight, Y/N,” he climbed down your balcony and disappeared into the night.

“Goodbye, Mattheo,” you sighed as you watched him go.

The next morning was an early start and you almost immediately regretted promising that you would meet Ron and Hermione for an early lunch. You could barely keep your eyes open as you shuffled into the kitchen. You had been awake for most of the night half wishing that you had let Mattheo stay. You yawned as you spread butter onto your toast.

“You’re quiet this morning, Y/N,” James glanced at you from the other end of the table.

Harry snickered as he walked into the kitchen, “you say that like it’s a bad thing, dad.”

You scowled at your twin, “fuck you, Potter.”

“Language, Y/N!” Lily gasped but you couldn’t miss the laughter in her voice. Your mum narrowed her green eyes at you, “did you have a friend over last night? I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone.”

You shook your head, refusing to look at your dad, though you could feel him looking at you from where he sat, “I didn’t have anyone over last night, mum,” you mumbled. Lily nodded but continued to regard you suspiciously.

In no time at all, you were meeting Ron and Hermione outside of the ice cream parlour in the blazing sun.

“Hello again,” Hermione laughed as she pulled you into a hug, you grinned as you hugged her back and over her shoulder you waved at Ron.

“Sorry about my mum last night, that must have been embarrassing,” Ron almost winced as you laughed and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it!” you sat at the table and smiled over at Hermione, “thanks for getting my fave,” you blew her a kiss as you a sip from your iced Butterbeer.

“Ugh, incoming,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her own drink, you could tell by the venom in her voice that it was Malfoy and his band of Slytherins. You didn’t even turn to look until Ron spoke up.

“Bloody hell, look at Riddle’s face.”

You glanced over your shoulder and was filled with horror by what you saw, Mattheo had been badly beaten, he had a black eye and a huge gash in his lip, almost like it had been split open. He looked at you with wounded eyes as he walked past but he said nothing. Neither did Malfoy.

[1000roughdrafts]

Dean Winchester X Reader Masterlist

Some of my works are 18+, which I'll write as such here, but please heed the warnings on the individual posts as well - All under the cut :)

One Shots xx

Angst

💙 Us - request: Can you do a deanxreader songfic to the song us by Regina spektor

💙Goodbye ~ After Dean takes on the mark, his relationship with Y/N starts to fall through the cracks. She’s had enough of him taking out his stress on her, and after years of silencing her pain, she finally lets him know why  it’s time to say goodbye.

💙How Do I Become Enough ~Reader and Dean right about her doubts, she feels somewhat isolated and annoyed. No cheating, necessarily, but think along the lines of Dolly Parton’s Jolene  

💙Intrusive Thoughts ~Dean was supposed to visit Y/N while she was at work, but when he didn’t show, she got worried. After finally getting ahold of him, she was relieved to know that he was alive. But when another full day passes by without a word, her mind goes into overdrive about what could have happened to him.

💙Voicemails ~ this is a small, angsty thing, and it is 100000% self indulging so please feel free to just ignore it.

💙 Illicit Affairs - Request from anon based on Taylor Swift’s song Illicit Affairs &lt;3

💙  Promise Me This Is Forever -  this is for @allywritesblog and #allyswriting event, and im using the quote "promise me this is forever" :)

Fluff

💙 Phone Calls With Dean ~ just a random thing I wrote for a story that didn’t pan out, no real plot to this.

💙Shooting With Dean ~ Dean takes you out for target practice, but something else is on his mind.

💙Time ~Soulmate AU, Y/N has had the ability to pause and unpause time for likely her whole life, believing she was the only person with such a power. One day, she learns that not only is that not true, but the other person is her soulmate. 

💙 Salted Baseball Bat - Anon Request: "'They said that gluing salt to a baseball bat to fight ghosts was a stupid idea, but who's laughing now?' you say as you whack the ghost again."

💙 Criminal - DeanxReader request from @rileynicole1967 based on the song Criminal by Britney Spears

💙 Cat-astrophe Written for @spnfanficpond​‘s unfic challenge with the prompt “I may have accidentally sort of adopted 5 cats.”fluff, stern!Dean, 

💙  Baby Winchester 2021 - Reader finds out she's pregnant, and tells Dean in a cute, fluffy way.

💙  Just Another Day - Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Flangst

💙 We're Gonna Get You Through This - reader is triggered back to a horrible memory and explains to Dean why waiting to have sex is best for her. 

💙Currently untitled ~ Request: could you do a deanxreader fic where she goes out on a date (maybe to a bar) for drinks with a guy and towards the end of the night, the guy (you pick the name) starts being rough with her cause he’s drunk and hurts her, then dean finds out somehow and comes over to kick his ass then admits his feelings for her?

💙 A Boring Holy Cross Tattoo - A Fic inspired by Cards Against Supernatural with the cards “Dean has 99 problems but ____ ain’t one.” and “A boring holy cross tattoo”.

💙 Amnesia - Request from @rileynicole1967​ : Deanxreader one shot or series ;) based off the song “amnesia” by 5 seconds of summer but in the readers pov and at the end he comes back for her and it’s all fluffy and cute.

💙 Half a Man - Follow up to the Amnesia request from @rileynicole1967​ - this one takes place the same night as Amnesia, but in Dean’s perspective and based on the song Half a Man.

18 + / Smut One Shots

💙Downtime ~ 18+, smut; After weeks of hunting the same witch, you and Dean decide to take a weekend break, but you didn’t expect what was in store for that weekend.

💙Punishment ~ 18+, smut; After embarrassing Dean at an important dinner, he punishes you with a cold shower.

💙 Size Matters - 18+ Smut DeanxReader request from anon, where reader has a size kink

💙 Poison  -  DeanxReader request from @kaitlaitlaitl​ based on the song Poison by Alice Cooper

Mini Series xx

💙 Movie Monsters Part One | Part Two ~ You’re teamed up with Dean, a man you’ve always found obnoxious, to find out the path of a new monster. Of course, things don’t always go as planned. (Complete)

💙 Never Have I Ever Part One | Part Two  ~ Part Two is pure smut; College!AU - Dean gets jealous of the attention he thinks you’re receiving from Cas during a small party at your house and doesn’t know what to do with it, so he leaves the room to keep drinking. 

💙 Hope is a Dangerous Thing... Part One | Part Two ~ The renowned author of a best-selling crime novel, Y/N Y/L/N, was thrown into a whole new world after her parents were brutally murdered. Their killer never found, Y/N took things into her own hands, meeting the Winchesters in her journey for justice. Even years later, she struggles to let anyone close in fear they’d leave or worse.

💙  i hate u, i love u (1) Slowburn au/Y/N has been in a relationship with Nick for the last 5 years. They’ve had a rough go. There’s been good and bad times, but she finally realizes that the man she thought she loved has been abusing her. Dean offers her a safe haven when she feared she had nothing else. (this may be abandoned, but we will see)

💙Reverse Supernatural  ~ request; “Hi!! I have been tossing an idea around for a bit… What if… Now hear me out… What if the Reader was the experienced hunter and she/he has to save Dean and/or Sam who have never known the supernatural existed…?” (only part one is out right now / ongoing / might also become abandoned)

Series xx

💙Family Secrets ~ 18+ ; Your uncle Bobby, and adoptive father Rufus, had a secret. A secret they never wanted the Winchester’s to find out. They had done a good job of keeping you from crossing their path, but now that they've both passed away there is nothing they can do about the brothers finding out their secret; you. (ongoing BUT I really want to and am seriously considering taking it down to rewrite it - this was the first thing I ever wrote and it's... it shows lol) 2/22/24 A/N: I want to return to this series, but since it was pretty much my first fic ever, I really want to rewrite some of the episodes and make it pace better. I understand that that might not be the best solution, however, so maybe I’ll just add inbetweeners or something. Just know I want to come back to finish it and may change some things along the way 😊

[spncvr]

HIII I kinda suck at writing so maybe you could take my idea and use your amazing writing skills and make something of it? (Only if you want ofc!!) hear me out yk how Spencer rambles about random facts and everything at the bau imagine if he had a partner (was a profiler as well) and that knew a lot about musics or movies and would ramble about it to him?

Ignore this if it sounds stupid 😭

rambles | s. reid

summary: you talk a lot, spencer doesn't mind.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: okay so idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but reader wears a dress lol. drinking, and again my terrible english,, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: hey beautiful!! this deffo does not sound stupid i had fun writing it but this is so bad im sorry i didn't do u justice *crying emoji* also im so sorry this took me forever to finish LMAOOO

masterlist

YOU CAN FEEL it.

In your spine, in your ears. The song’s quiet but it had you in its grip, tight and firm—music’s always been like that to you. It didn’t matter if it was Hendrix, Queen or even Chopin; it has always been the one thing to make you stop dead at your feet. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could possibly describe how it made you feel. Perhaps, you think humorously, you ought to learn another language, or two. 

You’re wearing this dress. This sweet, white silk thing that sweeps against your knees each time you take a step. The taste of expensive wine sits against your lips, lingering. The glass rests idly around your hand and your grip is careful. Expensive red wine and a cheap dress don't usually mix well together. 

“You okay?” 

You smile, teeth and all. Spencer who’s found his place next to you, furrows his eyebrows worry painted against his soft features. He looks tired. But he’s here, with the rest of the team; he always is.

“Fine,” you say, blasé. “You, Dr. Reid?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “Yeah, fine.” then, “nice dress.” It’s a small whisper. 

You brush your tongue against the wine on your lips. The comment catches you off guard—especially when he’s dressed like this and looks at you like that. So, all that leaves your wine-stained lips is a small: “Oh.” then, because you remember your manners you say, “Thank you.”

The song changes, and Spencer smiles, “The songs—” he says “they’re nice.”

“I—” You stop yourself from rambling because really, they’re more than nice. It’s Elle Fitzgerald. She’s—Her voice, her instrument is clear as a bell, with diction that’s almost impossible to misunderstand. Her rhythm is— well it’s, you can set her as the metronome for her own band. Which, well, isn’t exactly easy to do. The way she’s able to scoop and bend her pitches with such precision is, beyond, nice. So the song, really it’s, more than nice, it’s a masterpiece it’s—

“Uh, yeah, s’nice.” you pause, “More than nice, really.”

Spencer smiles, amused, “More than nice?” he echoes.

You clear your throat, “It— yeah. I mean, it’s Fitzgerald, you know…”

“I don’t know,” he says simply.

Figures, you think. “No, yeah. She’s, like, got this tone in her voice, you know? And it’s like she’s the one leading the band— with the rhythm, I mean. As in like, instead of the drummer, which isn’t exactly easy to do. You know, actually, some people say she — she’s got the voice of an angel. Or something along the lines; can’t really remember and—” you pause, slightly embarrassed at how much you’ve been talking.

“Er, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. The edge of your shoes had suddenly become increasingly interesting. “didn’t mean to go on a tangent.”

Spencer kisses his teeth, and you look up to find him grinning. “No, uh,” he scratches the edge of his eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about something you like.” He seems to think about his next words as he brushes his hand against your arm. It sends a shiver that lingers longer than the touch itself. Spencer Reid could be so cruel sometimes. 

“I love listening to you talk.”

Your dress ends up wine-stained, anyway.

as usual my inbox is always open for requests (or just to talk lol) but it will take 192374 years to actually finish it,, reblogs are soo appreciated !! (u guys r always so kind idk why im asking for them) so is feedback btw!! (despretely in need of some)

[mcntsee]

— ★ trojan horse.

↳ summary: Task force has finally tracked Makarov down to London.

↳ warnings: Not proof read. Violence, blood, description of injuries, death(s), weapons, language, mentions of smoking, some suggestive content but nothing explicit. Slight ooc Ghost and one use of “y/n”.

↳ note: Reader’s call sign is “Zero”.

↳ author’s note: I refuse to let Soap die. In my mind, he is alive and happy, so that’s what I am doing. While writing this I really liked it, then I didn’t, then I did and now I’m not sure.

“Smokin’, Johnny?” Ghost’s gravelly, low tone resonated in her ears, breaking her concentration, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected interruption, her grip tightening on the rifle. “Blending in, L.T."

Despite the tension of the mission, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “If ya say so..”

Zero allowed her gaze to glide through the sniper scope, tracing the scene where Soap stood, cigarette in hand, while Gaz extended a lighter to ignite Soap's smoke.

A gentle crackle emanated from the earpiece nestled snugly in her ear, a precursor to Price’s voice that followed soon after, “Zero, how copy?"

“Go ahead."

“Status on the target?"

She let her gaze return to the target, leaving the image of Soap smoking behind, before responding, “Seems our mate’s on the move. Finish up that smoke and get movin’."

Her eyes tracked the target's movements, ready to advise Soap to wait and blend in when the target stopped to tie her shoes. However, before she could speak, Ghost's voice crackled through the comms once more. “Wait. She's tyin' 'er shoe, likely checkin' if she's bein' followed.”

Zero’s gaze swiftly scanned the surroundings, her sharp eyes catching sight of a dog nearby. "Cute dog, eh, Soap?" she remarked over the comms, watching as Soap leaned down to pet the dog, his praises flowing as he stroked its fur.

Before long, the target resumed her movement, with Soap's careful steps tracing behind her, before coming to a complete stop by the kiosk, eavesdropping on her conversation.

“She made a dead drop for a buyer. Flash drive. Alley between Bistro 43 and Tea Cafe."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Zero sprang into action, swift steps descending from the building's rooftop as she made her way to the CCTV room.

"No sign of Konni. Must've already left.” Ghost's voice greeted her as she opened the room's door, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him and his back turned toward her. “Good. Scrub the footage for anyone leaving the alley,  0–7."

She approached him slowly, her steps light so as not to distract him. Once within arm's reach, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging the knots she found there until the image on the screen caught her attention.

"There," she said, her finger extending as she leaned forward and pointed at the Konni. With a quick nod from Ghost, his voice graced her ears again, "Found ‘im."

Their eyes tracked the figure on the screen until eventually he disappeared into the tunnel, and they lost visual.

They exchanged a knowing glance, the voices of their teammates fading into the background as they locked eyes with each other. Carefully, she reached up, cutting off her mic in an attempt to have a private conversation with her lieutenant, who mirrored her actions soon after. "You reckon we found 'im?"

His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I would 'ope so, love," he said. The sound of one of his knees cracking in protest as he stood up reached her ears, and she couldn’t contain the teasing smile that crept onto her face as her eyes followed his movements. “Gettin’ rusty, L.T.?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound bringing her the same comfort it always did, as his other hand, too, came up to gently cupped her face, his eyes meeting hers with warmth. “Be careful, eh?"

“Is that an order, L.T?"

“No, it’s a sincere plea, love.”

At that, her eyes softened at the edges, an almost imperceptible blush gracing her cheeks beneath his hands. "How could I ever say no to that?" she whispered, her voice as soft as always. "Mind yourself as well, yeah?"

A soft “‘Course, love.” slipped from his covered lips as he drew her closer. One arm tenderly enveloped her figure, while the other gently cradled the back of her head, guiding it closer to his chest. With a tender gesture, he pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before slowly letting go and walking out of the room.

Soon, she found herself at the entrance of the west side of the tunnel, the voices of her squad members reaching her ears once again, each one confirming their entrance into the tunnel. “Zero?”

Her eyes quickly met Viper's, and with a swift nod, he lifted the bolt cutter, severing the chain that had previously secured the door. As soon as her group stepped foot inside and scanned the surroundings, her hand instinctively reached up to her vest, finding the microphone's button. With a decisive press, she answered, "Tunnel breached; we're inside and movin'."

Acquiring the USB from the Konni buyer had been a straightforward task. However, she harbored doubts that this would be just as effortless.

Her thoughts were interrupted as faint voices filled her ears—voices she didn’t recognize—and she swiftly signaled to her team with a closed fist raised high, halting their movements. Her head subtly tilting to the side as she strains to pinpoint the source of the unfamiliar voices. She gradually lowered her hand, extending her palm downward and making a sweeping motion from side to side, silently instructing them to spread out and move in different directions.

As the team scattered in different directions, she motioned with her head to Viper to follow her, extending two fingers out and gesturing for them to move forward to the train rails.

As they approached the train rails, the distant murmur of voices grew louder. Silently moving into position behind a stack of crates, they made eye contact, Viper's hand coming up, letting her know that there were five enemies ahead of them.

Her mind raced, gears turning faster as she formulated a plan of action. Quickly peeking over, she spotted two of the Konni sitting side by side, and a smile graced her lips. Meeting Viper’s eyes again, her hand went up with three fingers extended before pointing at herself, indicating that she would take out three of the enemies.

After his confirmation, she made a fist, holding it up in the air, before swiftly lowering it towards the ground, sending a nod in her teammate's direction.

She positioned her gun on top of the crate that was keeping her hidden. With a fluid motion, she closed one eye, the world narrowing to a tunnel of focus through the scope. Her heartbeat steadied, synchronizing with the rhythm of her breath. In the silence before the shot, she felt a calm resolve wash over her, every movement deliberate, every sense heightened.

With her finger poised delicately over the trigger, she took one final breath, then squeezed. The sharp crack of the bullet slicing through the air shattered the silence; the only sound that followed was the thud of two bodies hitting the ground.

Soon, the only remnants were the sight of five lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground, “Clear.”

Her earpiece crackled to life, static filling the airwaves before a distorted voice emerged, blending with the interference, “Six -o Watch—.., train clear. -vancing to Cross-..."

Frowning slightly, she quickly checked her equipment, ensuring that her radio was securely connected and powered on. “A-.. This is-, taking eff-… Konni has -stages.” Despite her efforts, the interference persisted, obscuring the clarity of the transmission. “Zero to Watcher, requestin’ a comms check."

She waited for a second, then two. “Ghost, do you read? I need to sync up for a clearer line.” Static was the only sound she heard as she adjusted the frequency settings on her radio, hoping to alleviate the issue, but to no avail.

With a sigh, she turned to her team. “Comms are compromised. Looks like there’s a jammer nearby.” Her eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of the ruggedized electronic device with antennas protruding from the top. “We proceed with the plan. Keep tight.”

The signal wasn't ideal, but she considered herself fortunate. Despite the interference, she could decipher most of the messages coming through the comms and discern who was speaking based on the sound of their voice, which had proven helpful as she and her team pressed forward. “Th-.. karov’s last kn-.. position, Six— tay sharp.”

Sweat coated her entire body, exhaustion setting in as adrenaline surged through her veins. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and her breathing became more difficult to control. “Bloody hell, this place is packed with Konni."

The world around her faded away, her peripheral vision narrowing until all that remained was the crosshairs of her scope and the distant figure in her sights. The sounds of gunfire and chaos around her became distant echoes as she honed in on her objective with laser-like precision. “G’night, arsehole."

Her eyes followed the limp body of the enemy crumpling to the ground, and soon, the cacophony of battle rushed back to her ears. The distant roar of gunfire, the shouts of "Clear!" and the whirr of machinery somewhere farther down the tunnel. The weight of her rifle in her hands, the cool metal pressing against her hot cheek, the gentle sway of her body as she shifted her stance. Her vision began to expand, the edges of her sightline gradually widening to take in the full scope of her surroundings.

The closer they got to the crossover, the clearer the voices in her ear became. “—host, Ze-ro, Gaz-, tro—… tact- your position?” The static wasn’t as loud as before, but the messages kept cutting off intermittently.

She held her hand up, signaling to her team to stop, while she strained to understand what was being said. “Push-ing up the tra-… nnel. Got wounded-.. ans,” Ghost's voice crackled through, soon followed by Gaz's. “No s-..tage… hostages, eit-her…” A relieved sigh escaped her lips, tension dissipating from her body.

She reached for the microphone's button, pressing it as she breathlessly announced, “Almost at the crossover.” and then released the button as soon as she was done, lowering her other hand. Her feet carried her forward, footsteps following close behind her.

"Zer- what-… osito-?" Price's voice asked again, the tone growing louder with each word. She reached for the button again, but before she had a chance to press it, she was harshly shoved to the ground.

Her body tensed up, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife secured in the sheath on her thigh. “Zero, ho- copy?”, echoed through her earpiece. Before she could grab the knife, the same body that had shoved her pulled her behind a crumbled wall. Viper’s eyes met her wide ones, just as the sound of the turret mechanical gears rotating reached their ears. “Zer-, check in! ar- you al—ight?”

Her hand instinctively patted her belt, searching for the reassuring shape of the grenade nestled among her other gear. With each frantic pat, her heart pounded in her chest until her fingers traced the familiar contours of the grenade’s casing, feeling the cold, smooth metal beneath her touch.

The weight of the grenade in her palm grounded her, its textured surface offering a reassuring grip as she tugged it off her belt. "Fo—uck's sake, …-ero!”, With one quick glance over the wall, she localized the turret’s position.

Her grip tightened around the grenade, and in a swift motion, she pulled the safety pin and tossed the grenade toward the turret's location. Following the explosion, she heard someone yell, “Turret down!” followed by a tired "clear."

She stood up, flicking the grenade's safety pin to the side, and offered Viper her hand. As soon as he took it, she pulled him up to his feet. “This is Zero; we're nearly at the crossover."

A wave of relief washed over her as her earpiece crackled to life with Ghost’s voice, “Say aga-in, you—.. unreadable.” She repeated her words deliberately, ensuring clarity without risking detection by any nearby enemies. “Nearly at the crossover, L.T.”

A quick "Rog-" was all that she needed to hear for her shoulders to relax from their tense posture. Slowly, her hand rose to wipe at her sweaty forehead, the dirt on it smudging over her face. As her team began to move, her other hand swiftly reached out, grasping Viper’s wrist and bringing his progress to a halt. “Thank you, Harry."

His head slowly turned to her, a tired smile gracing his cracked lips. “Always, y/n."

“We’re pinned down, Cap! Konni’s blockin’ the tunnels.” The soft static that had accompanied her ear through the entire ordeal finally ceased, leaving only clear voices without interruption. “0-7 to Six—We're punchin’ through now!” She would've smiled at the improvement, but by now, with her teammates in sight and no longer reliant on the earpiece to hear two of them, she found its absence more of an annoyance than a relief.

"Get 'ere!” With quickened steps, she made her way to where Soap and Price were crouching by the bomb, her team following closely behind. They split into two sections, with three members staying behind to cover their backs while the other two moved forward alongside her.

"Red wire, got it," was the last thing she heard them say before her heart sank. With a surge of adrenaline, she broke into a sprint, her breath ragged and sweat streaming down her face. "Soap!" she screamed, but her words were cut short by the echoing shots that reverberated through the tunnel that was now littered with lifeless bodies.

Despite the impossibility, her pace quickened even more, her hand instinctively reaching up to open her microphone. "Backup is needed now!” her voice hoarse and breathless, with each word punctuated by the rhythm of her footfalls.

The desperate voices of Ghost and Gaz filled her ear with questions and status updates, but only one voice was clear. “Never bury your enemies alive."

Her thoughts raced as fast as her feet, and prayers to whoever would listen were sent as she pleaded for just two more seconds to reach them.

For a moment, relief washed over her as she saw Johnny stand up and strike the back of Makarov’s head. She almost paused in her running, but as quickly as the relief came, it vanished again when Soap’s arm was twisted and his body pushed forward.

The two seconds she had desperately wished for were granted, and not a moment later, she was running behind Makarov, watching him push Price back to the floor with his foot and aim his gun at Soap’s head.

Without hesitation, she rammed her body against his back, pushing him forward as the gun he was holding went off. “Soap!” Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced over at Johnny.

On his knees, Johnny held the left side of his head with one hand, the other planted on the floor to support his weight as he leaned forward. He was alive.

As if jolted back to reality, she quickly turned her head back to face Makarov, her hand reaching back to draw her gun.

“No!”

Time slowed to a crawl, and suddenly, her ears were ringing with a high-pitched whine, drowning out the cacophony of gunfire and shouts around her. Each sound seemed muffled and distant, as if she were submerged underwater.

The metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth, coating her tongue with a bitter, coppery taste that made her gag. Dizziness washed over her in waves, threatening to send her tumbling to the ground. She fought to maintain her footing, but she couldn’t remember the moment her legs gave out.

She could feel the cold sweat trickling down her spine, mingling with the warmth of her own blood. A searing heat radiated from somewhere on her neck, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Throbbing with each heartbeat.

Hands pulled at her vest, maneuvering her onto her back. The numb feeling of pressure being applied to her neck was almost lost on her until another hand gently tapped her cheek and the one on her neck left for a second.

She could barely hear her name being called as she forced her eyes to focus on the figures crouching by the bomb. Her thoughts raced in multiple directions, only coming to a halt when they landed on Soap. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—

“Jo- John-“ Her voice sounded so strange, gurgling on blood as she fought to formulate a coherent sentence. “J-Johnn-y. Whe-"

"He's alright, love. He's alright." The tension left her body. He's alright, he's alright, he's alright, said the familiar voice in her head. Only then did she realize whose hands were stroking her cheek, the gentle motion bringing memories of that same afternoon flooding back.

"Si- Simon." Her voice, though quiet, carried a gentle tone that almost drowned out amid the shouts for medics that surrounded them, but he heard.

He heard, and his heart shattered at the haunting resemblance to her voice in the early morning or the late nights they spent entwined in bedsheets. Lost in each other’s eyes, hands roaming each other’s bodies between pants and pleas.

Their low whispers as they shared secrets, the hushed laughter that filled the kitchen during late-night conversations.

"You're gonna be alright, love." There was nothing he wanted more than to find Makarov and make him pay for what he had done. Return the pain he had caused to all of you tenfold.

His glove was soaked in blood. The crimson liquid stained the once pristine white skull hand a dark brown. He never despised the color brown more than he did in that moment. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’."

He could hear the distant footsteps approaching, urgent and hurried, echoing through the tunnel he had fought his way through not long ago, all in an effort to reach them. To reach her.

His gaze wandered up and away from her pale face, his eyes locking onto Johnny’s wide ones that were looking at her. Gaz sitting by his side, pressing a gauze to the left side of Soap’s face; his attention also fixed on her.

Price’s voice echoed from somewhere behind him, barking orders and demanding medical attention. And as his eyes shifted once more, he spotted Harry standing by a pillar, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at her.

He knew Viper well enough to be familiar with his first name. She had shared stories about him, the friend who convinced her to enlist alongside him, and the one constant in her entire career. He could sense the guilt emanating from him, and he dared not imagine what thoughts were consuming him in that moment.

Harry had been the one to bring her here, to this job, to this moment, and Ghost wanted to blame him for it, but he couldn’t. After all, without Harry, Simon was sure he would have faced a very lonely and unhappy life without her by his side.

For a moment, everything was silent; even his own mind had ceased its relentless chatter, and then he heard choking. “Love, breathe."

But she didn’t listen to him, so he tried again, louder. "Love, you 'ave to breathe," he pleaded, his hands trembling slightly with fear. “Darlin’, please.”

Just as his hands reached to pull at her vest, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, attempting to pull him away. “Simon.” He squirmed away from the hand, moving forward because she wouldn’t breathe. He had to take her vest off. She couldn’t breathe.

The hand reached out again, its grip firmer than before, and pulled him back as he fought against it. “She can’t breathe,” he insisted, reaching forward again, his tainted, gloved hands grazing her vest before another hand landed on his bicep, forcibly pulling him away from her. “Simon, let ‘em do their job.”

He moved forward again, but this time, the hands on his body didn’t let him get far. “Ghost, let ‘em save ‘er.”

His tension eased only when his eyes registered the uniforms of the individuals who had taken his place beside her. Medical.

He fought the urge to cover his ears as the choking sounds grew louder and louder. “She can’t breathe.” Her eyes still tracked his every move, each flicker becoming slower, eyelids growing heavier, but they never left his, as per his request.

The notion of time eluded him; one moment, he was cradling her frame in his arms, whispering encouraging words, and the next, he was watching the ambulance leave.

The same hand that had initially separated him from her body touched his shoulder again, its weight lighter than before. “Son, I-“ The gentle pats from the hand ceased. “‘am sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for, Price."

The drive felt impossibly long, yet too short at the same time. He wanted to be with her; he truly did, but another feeling nagged at his heart. A little voice in his head accompanied the feeling, reciting every worst-case scenario. Scenarios he couldn't allow himself to imagine. What-ifs that, if he allowed his mind to dwell on for too long, would forever haunt him.

She got lucky; it was only a graze. He knew the receptionist was just trying to ease their minds and assure them that she would be fine. Alive, and finally breathing. Still, he wanted to punch the reassuring smile off of her face. Lucky? How on earth could this whole thing be considered luck?

It felt like an eternity had passed as he waited for any updates. Johnny had come out not too long ago, a bandage around his head, a sling supporting his arm, and a worried look in his eyes as he scanned the reception area.

Gaz was the first to stand up and approach him, guiding him to where they were.

Simon felt for Johnny; out of the four of them, he was the only one who hadn't received a single update. According to him, the last thing he heard or saw from her was at the ambulance, and when he asked any of the medical staff for answers, they refused to provide any information, leaving him to assume the worst.

That she was gone. That the girl who he had grown so fond of— a sister to him, had been lost while protecting him. That her life had been taken away in exchange for his own.

In all the time Ghost had worked with Soap, he had never seen him so defeated. No jokes, no stupid stories—just pure and utter worry in his eyes, a stark contrast to the mischief that Ghost had grown so accustomed to seeing sparkle within them.

Once he had been filled in with the little information that they knew, his stance relaxed slightly, but like them, the worry didn’t completely dissipate until a nurse approached them. She was fine. Alive. Breathing.

After another hour or so, she was finally allowed to have visitors. Upon entering her room, his eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, taking in the sight before them. The sterile, white walls seemed to close in around him, contrasting sharply with the chaos of medical equipment scattered throughout the room. Wires and tubes crisscrossed the space, connecting her to an array of beeping monitors and humming machines.

The heart rate monitor emitted a steady rhythm that accompanied his ears as his gaze lingered on the IV stand beside her bed, the transparent bag of saline hanging precariously, dripping life into her veins.

As for her, she lay motionless on the hospital bed, her features pale and drawn, a bandage wrapped snugly around her neck.

Price was the first to move, his steps quiet as he approached her. "Oh, kid. What 'ave ya done?" His hand carefully took hers with a sigh. He wasn’t disappointed; no, he was worried, like a father would be.

He had been right there, in the perfect spot for his eyes to witness, with unimaginable clarity, the moment the bullet hit her. Some of her blood splattering on his face, the vivid image of her crumbling body etched in his mind forever as he reached for his gun.

Price’s desperate yell had been the reason why Simon’s steps had increased to an unimaginable speed. The pain and anger in his captain’s voice only increasing the panic that gripped at his soul as shots started to go off again. And then he saw them.

He saw Johnny’s trembling form kneeling on the ground, and Price's hand coming up to aim his gun at the retreating form of Makarov.

He watched Makarov’s image disappear as a train flew past them, Price's body crawling to her. Tugging her to his side by her vest, shaking her body as he yelled at her to look at him.

He saw Kyle appear and kneel next to the bomb as he ran forward, his knees hitting the ground next to her at the same time as Price moved back to the bomb, instructing Gaz on what to do.

There were only a few instances when he could admit that Simon had a stronger grip over him than Ghost did, today being one of them.

He hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than her. Her eyes, her mouth, and her blood forever staining his hands. On top of all that, he remembered her promise. Her promise to be safe. A vow similar to the one he had made to her, the only difference being the fact that he kept his and she didn’t.

As the hours stretched on, a steady stream of visitors flowed in and out—military friends, superiors looking for mission details, nurses, and doctors.

At some point Kyle had offered to take Johnny back to base, but it took Price’s authoritative insistence to finally persuade Johnny to leave, making the captain and lieutenant the only ones left in the room with her.

Price clenched his fists, his brows furrowing in frustration. "I wanna be mad at 'er for what she did," he grumbled, his voice tinged with annoyance, prompting Simon’s gaze to shift from her to him. “It was stupid, but she saved our arses."

With a sigh, Price's hands came down to his knees, pushing against them as if to support his own weight as he stood up. “In all my years in the military, I’ve only encountered two individuals whose loyalty matched their bravery." Simon watched his captain’s movements, noticing the slight shake of his head as he continued with a softer voice. “Willing to sacrifice everything to protect others.” Price’s hand reached forward, placing it on her leg and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Her bein’ one of ‘em.”

After a moment, he released her leg and met Simon's gaze. "You the other." With a nod of his head in his captain’s direction, he quietly murmured, “Double-edged sword.”

Price lingered for a moment, his eyes returning to her face for one last glance before he made his way over to where Simon sat. With a couple of gentle pats on his shoulder, he said, "Get some sleep, son. She's going to be alright."

As soon as the door closed and he was alone with her, he allowed his facade to crumble. The emotions he had kept at bay surged over him like crashing waves, threatening to drown him in their intensity.

The events of the day played on repeat in his mind, each moment etched vividly in his memory. He could still feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder, her comforting touch easing his stress. The scent of her hair filling his senses as he held her close, her head resting against his chest.

The worry that consumed him as they tried to reach her, only to be met with silence on her end, and the relief that flooded through him when she finally responded, her gentle voice interrupted by static.

The scream of his captain echoing in his ears, and the sight of her body lying on the blood-covered ground. Her dimming eyes and paling skin. The struggling gasps for air and the sound of her choking on her own blood.

The hands holding him back and away from her, and his best mate’s eyes filled with terror. The slight tremor in Price’s hands and the constant pacing from Kyle.

The weight of it all bore down on him, threatening to crumble his resolve as he made his way over to her, each step feeling heavier than the last until he finally reached her bedside.

He went to take her hand in his but stopped as soon as he noticed the dried blood on his now-bare hand. With a grimace, he rubbed at the stubborn residue, his skin reddening from the friction as he attempted to cleanse it away.

He continued to scrub at the stain until a smaller hand gently enveloped his, halting his frantic motions. It took a moment for his brain to register the touch, but when it did, a small gasp escaped his lips, and he looked up.

His eyes found hers in an instant, and his airway constricted. She was fine. Alive. Breathing.

Part two….?

Comm dialogues with no static:

1. “Six to Watcher, train tunnel is clear. Advancing to Crossover.”

2. “All Bravo- This is 0-7, taking effective fire. Konni has hostages.”

3. “That is Makarov’s last known position. Stay sharp.”

4. “Ghost, Zero, Gaz, troops in contact. What's your position?”

5. “Pushing up the train tunnel. Got wounded civilians.”

6. “No sight on the target. No hostages either.”

7. “Zero, what’s your position?”

8. “Zero, how copy?”

9. “Zero, check in! Are you alright?”

10. “For fuck’s sake, Zero!”

11. “Say again, you are unreadable.”

[train-wrecc]

Champagne Problems 2

marcus baker x female!miller!reader

warnings: mentions of vomit, nausea, mentions of food, panic attacks, i think that’s all… 

fluff with a sprinkle of angst?

word count: 4.5k

italics = sign language

A/N: this will probably be a series bc i wanna add more to this :) i would've posted this earlier but i was struggling to edit the lil collage below 😭 also, i feel like the first one was better but i tried :/ & i will try to dedicate more time to writing bc recently i’ve been gaming a lot more + struggling to write an essay but anyways… try to enjoy?

unedited!

part 1 part 3

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You thought the Baker's reaction to your pregnancy would be worse. However, when both you and Marcus signed the words while simultaneously voicing that you were pregnant, they both wore a look of shock on their face, Max sitting on the couch with a wide grin. She practically threw herself at you and Marcus, pulling you both into a tight embrace. 

“Oh my god, I-I don’t know what to say…” Ellen murmured, causing you to slightly frown, and Marcus to squeeze your hand in reassurance. Clint signed, “Well, at least I’ll be a young Grandpa,” He chuckled. Which caused a slight smile to grow on your face. “I wouldn’t say that this is the most ideal time for a baby, seeing as you both are so young, but just know you have our support, in whatever you choose to do. Being a grandma doesn’t sound too bad, the baby can call me Glamma!” Ellen began to ramble.

After you had told them your decision, they let you know that they’d be there for both of you, every step of the way. You felt the weight being lifted from your shoulders, pulling Marcus into a hug. You knew that you still had a long way to go, and you’d have to figure out how to raise a baby, where to raise your baby, and a lot more, albeit you had Marcus and he had you. 

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You woke up due to nausea causing you to run to your bathroom, and fill the toilet with vomit. You felt a hand holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail, another on your back, rubbing soothingly. You knew immediately that it was your mother. Her presence seemingly relaxed you. “It’s okay, baby, let it out,” She murmured gently, her voice slightly rough due to the fact that she had just woken up. 

Once you were done spilling your guts, you pulled away from the toilet, the horrid smell of vomit hitting your nose, causing you to once again reach for the toilet. After you were finished, you slammed the toilet lid shut, leaning your head against it, a sigh escaping your lips. 

You sat there for a moment, before getting up, your mother helping you up, you quickly rinsed your mouth with mouthwash, following it up by brushing your teeth, as you tried to rid yourself of the taste of bile.

“Come on, why don’t you go get some more rest, darlin’,” Your mom ushered you to your room, tucking you into bed before placing a kiss on your head. You smiled at her before turning to face the window. You reached for your phone, debating on texting Marcus. However, when you saw that it was 4:30 am, you decided against it, not wanting to wake him up. You gazed out your window as you tried to go back to sleep. However, you couldn’t, you tossed and turned, the moonlight shining in your room, seeing as it was still dark out. Suddenly your window was thrown open, and a figure fell onto the wooden flooring of your room. You immediately sat up, slightly frightened before you heard the slight murmur of a “Shit,”. 

You turned your bedside lamp on, “Marcus?” You questioned the boy, “What are you doing here?” You gazed at him curiously. “Georgia told me you were up because of morning sickness, so I thought I’d come over, not only because she practically threatened me but because I wanted to see how you and the baby are doing.” He tiredly smiled, eyes slightly drooping. 

A gargantuan smile broke out on your face, a giggle escaping your lips, before you patted your bed, so he’d come to lay with you. “You didn’t have to come over, but thank you. And excluding the morning sickness, we’re doing just fine.” You responded, your hand finding its way to your flat stomach, which would soon be not-so-flat with a baby bump. Marcus placed his own hand atop yours, “I know, but I wanted to,” He grinned, before gently placing a chaste kiss on your lips. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, cuddling you. “I can’t believe we’re having a baby.” He murmured. “I know,” You said, laying your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent, you let out a sigh. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. “Nothing, it’s just… I’m just kinda nervous about the appointment tomorrow- well, technically today.” 

One of his hands left your waist, placing it atop your head. “Everything’s gonna go great, we’ve nothing to worry about, alright?” 

“I know, I think it’s just cause, y’know it’s our first appointment…”

“Yeah, well let’s get some more sleep, everything’s gonna be okay, promise.” He smiled, before placing another kiss on your lips, causing you to smile against his lips. You pulled away, turning to shut off your bedside lamp. Out of the corner of his eye, your night light caught Marcus’s attention. He refrained from shutting it off, even though it slightly bothered him because he knew the gradual change of colors helped lull you to sleep, and you and the baby were the most important things in his life.

Marcus had drifted slightly away from you throughout the night- morning, which woke you up not even an hour later. You let out a whine, turning to find him practically at the edge of the bed, you scooted closer to him wrapping an arm and leg around his waist, the contact instantly relaxing you allowing you to drift off to sleep once again. 

Marcus had gotten up a while before you, at around 9:30. Your doctor's appointment was at 12:30, so he figured he’d let you rest for another hour, while he went downstairs to make you a good, nutritional breakfast for you and the baby. He looked online and discovered that he should make you oatmeal, and decided he’d pair it with your favorite fruit and juice. Marcus placed your breakfast on a bed tray, making his way upstairs to your room, before running into Ginny and Austin. “Hey, I made some oatmeal, you guys can go ahead and get some, while I give this to your sister,” They both nodded in response, a small smile on their faces, Austin saying thanks.

Marcus opened the door to your room, placing the bed tray with your nutritious breakfast at the foot of the bed. He made his way toward you, gently rubbing your shoulder to wake you. “Princess, wake up I made you breakfast.” He gently voiced in an attempt to get you up. You grumbled slightly in your sleep, nuzzling your head closer to his hand. “Come on baby, it’s time to get up and eat, we gotta get you ready for your appointment,” He kissed your cheek, caressing the other one. You stirred, eyes slightly opening. Your eyes met Marcus’s brown ones staring at you with nothing but love and pure adoration, a small grin grew on your face.

“Hi, bub.”

“Morning, princess, you sleep well?” He laughed.

“Mhmm, amazing with you beside me.” You smiled at him, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. You stayed like that for a moment, as he returned the kiss, before quickly pulling away, nausea once again rising in you. “Oh god,” You murmured, getting up and making your way to the bathroom as fast as you could. Marcus was quick on your toes, as you lifted the toilet lid and threw up. Marcus gently held your hair away from your face, caressing your back. 

You pulled away, throat and back aching. “I’m so done with this morning sickness,” You groaned out. “I wish I could make it stop.” Marcus said, to which you responded with, “It’s okay, it’ll all be worth it,” You smiled at him. You went through the process of cleaning your teeth and mouth of the taste of vomit, before pulling Marcus into a tight hug. “I love you. Thank you for being here for me and the baby.” 

“It’s the very least, the minimum I should be doing, you don’t have to thank me, bub.” He replied, arms around your waist. “By the way, I made you oatmeal, so you and the baby can eat before we head to your appointment.” This caused you to smile at his thoughtfulness. 

“It’s the very least, the minimum, I should be doing, you don’t have to thank me, bub. After all, you didn’t impregnate yourself.” He replied with a grin, arms around your waist. “By the way, I made you oatmeal, so you and bub can eat before we head to your appointment.” This caused you to smile at his thoughtfulness.  

“Thank you, love, we appreciate you so much,” You said, your hand gently caressing your stomach which would soon have a bump, a sign of your healthily growing baby.

“Don’t thank me anymore, I’m just doing my part in making sure you and our baby are taken care of,” He insisted.

“Thank you,” You stubbornly insisted, a giggle escaping your lips. Marcus was about to lecture you once again before you shut him up with a kiss.

Marcus returned the kiss, as he pulled you closer to him, both of you melting into the adulation-filled kiss.

He pulled away, a whimper escaping your lips as you chased his own. “One more kiss, please?” You whined.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.” He muttered, allowing you to press your lips against his own once again.

Once again, you eagerly kissed him, before he pulled away. “Alright, no more kisses until you eat your breakfast, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you sighed dramatically.

Marcus guided you back to bed where your bowl of oatmeal sat on the breakfast tray, along with your favorite juice.

“Come on, baby, eat your oatmeal before it gets cold or else I’m gonna feed it to you myself.”

You sat down, stubbornly crossing your arms, “I was gonna eat it, but because you said that, now you get to feed it to me yourself.” 

He sat in front of you a laugh escaping his lips, “Fine by me,” He responded.

Marcus grabbed the spoon scooping oatmeal into it before lifting it to your lips. As you were about to eat the oatmeal, Marcus moved his hand, oatmeal getting smeared on your nose.

“Oops, I didn’t mean to do that, love, I’m sorry.” Marcus let out a quiet laugh at the pout on your lips.

“I think I deserve another kiss as compensation,” You murmured, Marcus giving into your wants as per usual.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Once you finished your oatmeal, you and Marcus got ready to go to your ultrasound. You insisted on doing your makeup because you wanted to look good to see your baby for the first time. 

“Love, you already look amazing,”

“I know, but I wanna look even more amazing,” You said with a small grin.

“Alright, do you want me to braid your hair for you, while you do your makeup?” 

“Pretty please,” 

Marcus had been practicing braiding your hair, along with doing other styles as well, because he refused to be one of those dads that didn’t know how to style their daughter's hair.

Marcus nodded, standing behind you, “Alright, what do you want, French, Dutch?”

(A/N: I think you can dutch braid most hair types like curly, wavy, straight, and really tight curls, so I decided to keep this part in, if you have really short hair I guess this might not apply to you sorry! Imagine whatever braid/style you want!)

“You choose, baby,”

He decided on doing two Dutch braids, liking the way you looked with them. “And… done!” He said tying the end of the braid with a hair tie. “How do they look?”

“Wow, they look really good, bub, thank you,” You smiled at him, looking at the practically perfectly done braids.

“Your welcome, love, are you ready now?”

“Yup,” 

“Alright, let’s start heading downstairs.”

You both made your way downstairs, running into Austin and Ginny in the living room, ever since you booked your ultrasound, they’d been begging to go with you and Marcus, and you just couldn’t say no to them.

“You guys ready?” You questioned them, and they both jumped up practically buzzing with excitement as soon as they heard your voice. “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for you two to hurry up!” Ginny exclaimed. “Alright… where’s Mom?” You asked. “Dunno,” Austin shrugged.

You let out a small sigh, before calling out for Georgia. “I’m comin’!” 

“Mom, we gotta go before we're late!” You called back. You heard footsteps on the stairs, before your mom, Georgia, appeared on the landing looking extra as ever, as per usual. Suddenly Max barged in, “Oh my gosh, guys, this is it, is everyone ready?! I’m so excited, let’s go, go!” 

Max and Ginny ended up riding with Georgia, and Austin insisted on riding with you and Marcus. 

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Everyone sat cramped in the small appointment room, with you sitting on the examination table, Marcus holding your hand, as he stood next to you. Everyone was talking about everything and nothing at all at the same time, however, as soon as the ultrasound tech walked in everyone went silent. 

“Wow, it looks like we have a party in here!” She laughed, in an attempt to break the silence.

“Yeah, everyone really wanted to come with us.” You replied, giving a small smile to the woman.

“Well, it’s no problem at all, now, why don’t we get started? I assume you’re the father?” She gestured to Marcus, this prompted Max to pipe in, “Oh him? That’s so funny!” She laughed, “No, no, I’m the father.” She nodded seriously causing you to giggle quietly.

“Oh, uh…alright, we do get a lot of interesting couples in here.” The woman chuckled awkwardly.

“She-she’s kidding that’s- I’m the father.” Marcus nodded.

“Oh, okay…” She quietly answered.

“Alright, if you could just lay down for me, and lift your shirt a little just to expose your stomach, so I can apply the gel.” You nodded, doing as she said.

“Okay, it’s gonna feel a little cold,” She murmured before she applied the gel, “Now, this just helps the machine produce a clearer image as well as sound,” You slightly shivered as the cool gel met your skin.

(A/N: Idk what I’m saying tbh, just go with it…)

“Alrighty,” She grabbed the ultrasound probe, placing it on the skin where the gel had just been placed, “This can take a few moments to produce an image of the fetus,” She explained, moving the probe back and forth.

You simply nodded, as everyone intensely gazed at the ultrasound screen, just waiting for something to pop up. “So, it looks like you’re around 10 weeks pregnant, does that sound about right?”

You and Marcus nodded before she continued on, “So, because this is your first pregnancy, your bump can take a while to start showing, but you should start showing at around 12 weeks,”

“Now, I can’t seem to find- ah, there they are, oh my-”

“What, i-is something wrong?” You blurted out, beginning to sit up, worry immediately filling you as you gazed at the image displayed on the screen of the machine, Marcus’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that honey, it’s just- congratulations, you’re having twins!” She grinned.

“Twins?” Everyone exclaimed.

“Oh my god, we're having twins,” Marcus exclaimed, turning to you, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You both pulled away, tears in your eyes.

“So, I’m seeing two placentas, this just means the twins are fraternal, not identical, right now the babies are about the size of a strawberry, now let me see if I can find their heartbeats,” She once again moved the ultrasound probe back and forth. 

“Aww, there just two little twin strawberries hanging out in your uterus,” Max exclaimed in the background, causing Georgia to laugh and Austin to question what a uterus was. Ginny attempted to explain it to the young boy without explaining too much, resulting in Austin understanding that a uterus was your tummy. “I have oatmeal in my uterus,” He told Ginny. Which prompted everyone to burst out laughing. “I’ll just explain it when you’re older,” Ginny murmured. 

A small yet strong thumping began emitting from the machine. “There they are, so far so good, the heartbeats sound nice and strong, the placentas seem to be forming properly, and everyone appears to be nice and healthy.” She smiled as tears escaped your eyes as you listened to the sound of your baby’s heartbeat, “Sorry,” You gave a teary-eyed smile to the woman in apology, Marcus gently wiped your tears with his thumb, before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You were so happy your babies were healthy, but never in a million years did you think you’d be having twins. That was twice the crying, twice the cost, twice the feeding, and bathing. You tried not to show it but you were stressed. You and Marcus were going to raise not just one baby, but two small innocent humans, who were dependent on both of you. 

“Don’t worry, almost every single parent cries when they first see their baby, in your case babies,” She grinned, grabbing an antiseptic wipe to remove the gel from your stomach. “Well, I’m gonna print the sonogram images for you, before I forget to mention it on your way out don’t forget to schedule you’re next appointment, we recommend you come in at least every 4 weeks.” 

“Yes, we will do that, thank you,” You responded, pulling your shirt down, to its normal resting place now that the sonogram was over. 

You sat up from your lying position, “I-I’m gonna go use the restroom,” You hurriedly murmured, before walking out of the room. You let out a breath, searching for the restroom, once you spotted it you quickly made your way to it. You slammed the door shut, locking it, taking a few more deep breaths in an attempt to not panic. 

Albeit all you could think about was the twins in your uterus. Which caused you to slightly panic and spiral. But you were carrying twins you can’t panic, that’s not good for the baby. Before you knew it you were sitting on the restroom floor, having a panic attack. “I c-an’t do… t-this,” You quietly stuttered out through your tears, as they continued to cascade down your face. You tried to calm yourself down again but failed. 

Suddenly a knock sounded from the other side of the door, “Bub, are you okay in there?” You heard Marcus question. “Mhm,” You managed to get out, a whimper escaping, as you tried to hide your sobs. “Baby, let me in, I can tell you’re not okay, please,” He quietly said through the door, his head leaning against it.

“Okay,” You sniffled as you stood up, unlocking the door, and allowing Marcus to walk in. 

He immediately pulled you into a hug at the sight of you in distress. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked as you clung to him, tears rolling down your cheeks still. You attempted to get the words out, however, you’re breathing was too quick and uneven for you to get anything out. “Baby, you need to calm down okay? Listen to my heartbeat, and just follow my breathing, okay?” He told you in a questioning manner, pulling you in tighter, wanting to somehow squeeze out whatever was causing your tears.

You nodded, your head pressed against his chest as you listened to his calm heartbeat. Somehow listening to his relaxed heartbeat and being in his arms soothed you, following as he took a deep breath in and exhaled. Both of you stood there for a moment, a comforting silence enveloping you. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered.

Marcus shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for baby, just please tell me what’s wrong?” 

“It’s just- we’re having twins, Marcus, I mean, I was scared shitless when I found out I was pregnant with a baby, but now we’re gonna have two. I mean we’re barely gonna graduate, and I mean- how can we afford two babies!? I know you have your job, but- this is two babies, not just one anymore! And where are we gonna live? With my mom? Your parents? A-and what about college? I-I don’t know how you’re not freaking out, w-why aren’t you freaking out?” 

Marcus simply smiled at you, “Because I love you, Y/n Miller, and I know no matter what, as long as I have you, and our families, we’re gonna be alright. We’ll figure everything out, I promise you,” He said his hands now gently holding your face in his hands, so you could look at him. “Just please don’t stress about this, it’s not good for you, or our precious cargo,” He grinned. 

“You’re crazy.” You stared at him and all his calmness, causing him to laugh.

“Crazy in love with you? Yes, very much.” 

“I probably look a mess now,” You said with a slight hint of sadness, as you fell into his arms once again. 

“Well, if you look like a mess, then you’re the most beautiful mess I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Hey!”

“What? It’s a compliment, come on,” He said, pulling you toward the mirror.

“See, still stunning, as always.” He told you, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“Wow, my makeup looks pretty good still…” You said, grabbing a paper towel and patting the tear tracks away.

“That’s all you baby,”

“No, I think it’s that new setting spray I got.” You smiled lightly.

Another knock echoed off the restroom walls interrupting you, followed by Ginny’s voice, “Y/n/n are you okay in there? You’ve been gone a while… Marcus was supposed to come get you but he probably got lost, he’s kinda an idiot-” she was interrupted by a squeaky voice speaking up, “Hey, that’s not a nice thing to say, Ginny.” Austin said.

“I mean, is she lying though?” Max questioned.

“Honey, you alright?” Your mom called out after, as you and Marcus tried to contain your laughs.

“Maybe she’s not in there,” Max murmured.

You opened the door, being met with your family huddled around the door, “I’m fine guys, just a little worried, and hormonal, but besides that, fine.” You gave them a reassuring smile. 

“Well, come on then, we gotta set up you’re next appointment,” Georgia said, nodding toward the front desk. 

You all began walking toward the desk as you overheard Marcus, “Thanks for sticking up for me bud,”

Austin nodded, “You’re welcome, Ginny’s just a big old grump.” 

“You’re right about that, Max too,” He replied teasingly, causing both girls to roll their eyes as you laughed at the conversation taking place. 

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You texted Padma images of the ultrasound seeing as she wasn’t able to make it. She congratulated you, her messages filled with love and excitement. Seeing as it was Saturday, the rest of the day was spent with your families, Clint and Ellen joining everyone at your house. They both sat in amazement as they stared at the sonogram images of your little strawberry twins.

“Wow, two healthy babies! We’re gonna have our hands full, again!” Clint signed.

“I know, I wonder if it’s because you and Maxine are twins Marcus,” Ellen murmured.

“Actually the ultrasound tech said something about it affecting ovulation, so Max would be twice as likely to have twins than me, or if one of our babies is a girl, she’d be more likely too. We just got lucky, I guess,” Marcus explained to his parents.

“Alright, remind me to never try for kids then, we don’t need two pairs of twins running around. That’s chaos is what that is.” Max laughed.

“I mean I’m sure you guys will be fine though,” She smiled awkwardly.

“Well, I can’t just wait to meet our little twins!” Georgia spoke, as you were all lounging around in the living room.

“Were they able to tell if they’re gonna be identical or fraternal? I don’t remember how many weeks I was when they were able to tell us, with Max and Marcus.” Ellen asked, Clint nodding in support of the question.

“They’re fraternal, thankfully, I don’t know how we would do it if they were identical. I mean we’d probably mix them up while they’re babies…” You answered while signing.

“There are actually a few tricks to tell them apart when they’re babies, like name bracelets or, painting their toenail a certain color, stuff like that,” Ellen responded.

“Yeah, and you guys might need to use some of those tricks, I mean, Max and Marcus looked almost identical when they were babies,” Clint informed you.

“Well then,” You smiled nervously, leaning into Marcus's arms even more. He rested his chin on the top of your head, as you sighed into his neck, beginning to feel slightly tired.

“You feel alright?”

“Mhm, just a little tired…”

“Wanna go nap for a little bit?”

“No, it’s okay, we can hang out down here a little longer if you want.”

“Y/n/n don’t make me drag you upstairs, if you’re tired, go nap,” Ginny said seriously. 

“Yes, ma’am, I guess I’ll see everyone later,” You said, before Marcus helped you up and to your room. He closed your curtains to block the evening sun, before pulling the sheets back, allowing you to get into bed. You lay down, letting out a sigh in comfort, patting beside you for Marcus to join you.

He gladly obliged, cuddling you once he laid down. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his calming and comforting scent. “You feel a little bit better about having twins?”

“Yeah, especially since your parents have experience in that department, I still can’t believe it.”

“I know, we’re having twins,” He murmured.

“Yup, I wonder what gender they’ll be…” You mumbled.

“Me too, but as long as they’re healthy, that’s all that matters.” He said as he caressed your back with his hands, rubbing it soothingly. 

“Mhmm,” You hummed, you’re breathing slowing as you began to fall asleep.

“Love you, bub,” You sleepily muttered.

“I love you too,” Marcus responded before placing a gentle kiss on your lips, “Sweet dreams, baby.” He whispered as you drifted off.

He pulled you closer to him as he began to drift off as well. Your favorite place was in his arms and his favorite place was you.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: there are alot of like nicknames in this, lmk which one y'all think marcus would call the reader bc i really am unsure, also how do we feel about "princess" i think it's cute but ik it gives some ppl the ick... anyways have a great rest of your day/night/morning! 💞

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter twelve

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): none

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The rest of March passed by at an excruciating pace. True to his word, Harry had essentially isolated you from everyone you held dear. He glared at you in the corridors when you passed by and you felt the familiar gutting feeling of guilt every single time. Especially when Ron had finally been released from the Hospital Wing.

You found out that Ron was finally out through Neville Longbottom, who had asked if you'd spoken to Ron since he'd returned. He looked surprised by your confused face and told you that he would be officially out after lunch that day. Not even Hermione had come to find you, not that you were entirely surprised. You had made your way towards the ward with Pansy's elbow crooked in your own, for stability, when the trio and Ginny exited the double oak doors.

The look that Harry gave you was gutting, but the look of utter betrayal on Ron's face made your heart stutter in your chest.

"Ron-" you begin, but he cuts you off before you can even begin to explain yourself.

"Don't." he spat, voice raspy from sleep. "Harry told us what you obviously weren't ever going to."

You inhaled harshly, the arm looped with Pansy's tightening imperceptibly. "Let me explain, please."

"I don't want to hear any of your excuses, Meadow." the way he said your name was so foreign to you. "How could you fuck the enemy? Seriously, you know who his father is."

He's not his father! You wanted to scream; to shout to the rooftops. But words had evaded you. Tears filled your eyes immediately and you barely hear as Pansy shouts at him, no qualms for the fact that he had only recently recovered from being poisoned by her friends.

Hermione and Ginny barely spare the two of you a glance as they push the two pissed off boys away and down the corridor, the sound of Hermione defending you and chastising Ron for his cruelty is merely a whisper to you.

Pansy puts a hand on your forearm, thumb tracing soft circles. She breathes your name so delicately that you're surprised you even hear it. "Meadow? They're gone."

Your breath hitches minutely and your lip trembles as the tears that had been collecting in your eyes, finally fall.

"Oh, honey." she murmurs before pulling you into the tightest hug ever. "It's okay." she says over and over as she comforts you. "If they can't see how extraordinary you are, then they didn't deserve your friendship in the first place."

You only sob harder.

"Let's go to my dorm, yeah." she says. "Have a girl's day, just us two?"

You nod once and allow her to guide you down to the dungeons, both of you ignoring the circle of your friends in one corner of the Slytherin common room, who look at the two of your passing figures in bewilderment.

You spent a whole weekend with Pansy. But the hole in your chest never seemed to go away, no matter how much the two of you gossiped and laughed.

~∞~

True to his word, Mattheo tried to help in his own way, by providing ample distraction in the form of siphon training. He had told you that his friends were willing to help you, too. It was the least they could do, he had said. And thank Merlin that they were so willing.

You had finally mastered effectively drawing an adequate amount of power from random magical objects that Mattheo would spell, but you couldn't fight the dizzying feeling that overtook you each time you succeeded.

One day, he came to you in the library, Blaise in tow.

"Hi boys." you say with a small smile, but Mattheo could tell that you were hiding your emotions from them – Harry, Ron and Hermione were only sitting a few bookshelves away from you and you had never felt more alone.

"Hello, love." Mattheo mumbled as he pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek, taking the seat beside you and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before his hand rested on the top of your thigh. He watched as your pretty eyes brightened almost instantly, but the faint sound of Ron's guffawing laughter made them dim as if the light had never been present in the first place. His hand squeezed your thigh affectionately.

Blaise took the seat opposite the two of you and having grown used to the two of you acting 'disgustingly coupley' over the course of the month, he didn't react to Mattheo's blatent concern. You noticed that he toyed with some sort of spherical object as he made himself comfortable.

"What's that, Blaise?" you ask, and he holds it up so you can see a transparent glass sphere that was barely the size of a golf ball. You tilt your head curiously.

"It's a conduit." he says, dark brown eyes tracing the smooth edges with precision. "When you siphon from anything with a form of magic imbedded within it, like the ground or a person, you can transfer it into this and it will hopefully take on the strain of the power, while also giving you access to it."

"So in simpler terms," Mattheo says, hand stroking up your thigh lightly, "you'll be able to do what you've been successfully practicing without worrying about passing out. In theory."

"What do you mean 'in theory'?" you ask, turning to Mattheo, who looks contemplatively at the conduit in Blaise's hand.

"Well there's no information about it helping a siphoner. Only that wizards use them to trap an extra bit of their magic in, just in case their magical core is compromised."

Like a horcrux. You thought to yourself, not noticing the way Mattheo imperceptibly tenses. He had a constant foothold in your mind, because it brought you comfort. But he could hear every one of your thoughts.

"So we – well actually Theo – thought that it would work in the same way." He hesitated to mention that Theo had had a hand in helping you. You still had not spoken to him. Not since you found out about his obvious involvement in poisoning Ron. You hadn't so much as uttered a word to him: not when you're in class and certainly not during patrols. "He just wants to help."

"Right." you hummed, "Well hopefully it does. I don't particularly feel like passing out today."

Blaise and Mattheo exchanged a look that you failed to miss. You huffed.

"Thank you Blaise." you say, and through gritted teeth, you ask him to thank Theo too.

~∞~

By the time April had come around, you had made peace with the fact that your friendships with the Golden trio and company were well and truly over. Your time was spent with the Slytherin group in their common room, instead. You wondered how you'd gone so long without fully knowing the whole group (you knew it was because you couldn't think of anything worse than jeopardising your existing friendships at the time of getting to know Theo and Pansy last year). Being around them filled a void that you didn't know existed in the depths of your very being.

Blaise shared your affinity towards muggle literature (he was currently reading the Great Gatsby and the two of you found immense joy when raving about eachother's annotations and perspectives).

Enzo was one of the funniest people you'd ever met and both of you enjoyed pissing Draco off to the maximum. He was also very sweet and caring under his nonchalant exterior but his wit was sharp as a knife – your twin snark was received abysmally from everyone else.

Draco was a little harder to get along with, considering the hatred he harboured for Harry, but he was, perhaps, the most sympathetic with you (besides Pansy, Theo and Mattheo) over your lost friendships.

These people were the only ones who did not outcast you, because they understood you – even your own housemates saw how you had become distanced from your old friends and they began to grow weary of who kept you company instead.

You were a group of pariahs, a wide berth always separating you from the rest of the student body.

You couldn't find it in yourself to care.

You finally talked to Theo and he apologised profusely for his part in Ron's hospitalisation, as did Enzo and even Draco. But like Mattheo, they seemed to find great difficulty in explaining themselves to you, clutching at where their hearts were as he spoke, as if it was trying to claw its way from each of their chests.

That's how you figured out the Unbreakable Vow that came hand in hand with the Dark Marks marring their left forearms. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo and Draco could not utter a word of what they were tasked to do, otherwise they would die a slow and painful death. It gave you even more incentive to get them out somehow. It would be difficult, but you'd never stop trying.

The conduit that Blaise had given to you, lay against your collarbone on a dainty chain of sterling silver, gifted by Pansy. It had developed whorls of varying shapes and sizes as you practiced siphoning day after day and you could feel the hum of power within it. It would only be released upon you shattering the glass. You were gaining control with each practiced session.

You were sat with Mattheo in a quiet corner of the Slytherin common room, focusing on a box of marbles that he had charmed individually for you to practice. The hum of your magic was faint, but the indigo glow was bright and pulsing as invisible hands sifted through the glassy orbs collecting the surges of magic with each stroke, reflecting rainbows of colour across your faces.

He had thought of this idea one evening while you laughed with Enzo at Draco's expense. He had been admiring the way your head tilted back as you heartily laughed, the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders and over his hoodie that you donned, how your eyes sparkled under the low light of the common room. He thought it was possibly the most ethereal sound he'd ever been blessed to hear.

Mattheo began with small objects. Putting a little bit of his magic into them for you to siphon out. Your magical cores mingled and danced around eachother every time you did so successfully and your conduit would glow with a symphony of colour before it would extinguish until the next time you channelled the combined power into it. He found you extraordinary.

He knew he was treading on dangerous waters. He should've never let this thing – this beautiful thing between the two of you – get as far as it had. He should not have been the cause for your broken friendships. But he couldn't help it. He was addicted to you in all senses of the word.

He couldn't get enough. And maybe that made him selfish. But everything he did in this life was for his friends, his family. So he wanted to be selfish, just this once.

Because Mattheo Riddle was in love with you.

You had integrated into his found family with ease. He protects his family. So he would protect you, too. You had lost your old friendships, but new ones had formed. Fresh, pure and innocent.

But war has a funny way of sullying the beautiful things in life. It's only a matter of time before it's ravenous claws ripped through his brief moment of peace.

~∞~

i don't really like this chapter because of all the time jumps but i needed to speed through the timeline a bit lol

and it was mean tto be slightly more fluffy than the last few, but it seems that i just can't resist writing angst.

thankyou for all the love on chapter eleven though, it means so much 🥹🫶🏼🫶🏼

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Run Away With Me

Summary: Timing is everything.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 935

Warnings: None

Beta: @princessmisery666

Inspired by: Runaway by The Corrs

The door behind you crashes open, a loud crack of plaster emanating as it slams against the wall, and an imposing flannel and denim-clad figure fills the entrance. You hadn’t expected to see him here but aren’t surprised by the intrusion. The rush of air that follows carries his unique cologne of leather, motor oil, and spicy aftershave, and you scold yourself for the deep inhale to momentarily savor its familiar comfort.

“Don’t do it.” His chest heaves with the effort of speaking as if he’s run a marathon.

The gravelly rasp sends your pulse skittering, “Winchester,” but you keep your tone deadpan, suspiciously eyeing his reflection in the mirror in front of you. “You weren’t invited. What are you doing here?”

His almost imperceptible glance to your left tells you all you need to know, and you sigh in exasperation. An amalgam of emotions swirls in the ardent depths of the viridian eyes that again find yours in the mirror’s reflection. Afraid to analyze why your lungs seize as if the entire room has become an airless void, your relief is palpable when he doesn’t give you a chance to. 

“He won’t make you happy.”

You inhale sharply, taking a moment to try and calm the fury that overtakes your turmoil as you turn to face him. “I haven’t seen you in over a year. You have no idea who or what makes me happy.”

“That’s not true.” His tone is sure, but no smug smirk backs it up, only a look of dejection.

Tension thickens in the air like the barometric pressure of an oncoming hurricane, and Donna decides to make her escape. Placing a kiss on your cheek, she rubs a hand down your arm, whispering, “Give him a chance to say what he needs to, yeah?”

“You and I will talk later,” you huff, but return the soft smile she gives you before walking toward Dean. She pats him on the chest, and he nods, giving her a brief smile as he steps further into the room to let her pass. 

His eyes rake over you, top to bottom and back up. “You’re stunning.”

He says it with such appreciative awe that your casing cracks a tiny bit as you snap, “Why are you here?”

“Missed ya.” 

Ah, there’s that cocky grin that has a way of either firing you up or infuriating you—contingent on the circumstances, of course. Scowling at him, you wave a hand down your body. “Kind of busy right now.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that,” he scoffs, “you’re making a mistake. He doesn’t know you like I do. He-”

Unable to stop yourself, you sneer, “As I said, you know nothing.” 

If you give him an inch, he will take that mile and then some. You refuse to let him see that you’ve been having doubts, that you’d been caught up in a rip current barely keeping your head above water, and mere minutes before he came bursting in, you’d been talking to Donna about calling the entire thing off.

Ignoring your interruption, he smirks, “I know that under that silky little number,” pointing a finger, “you’re wearing your favorite Chippewas, the black ones. I know there’s a garter on your left thigh, but on your right is your PPK-L in that sexy little holster I bought you.” 

Damn him!

He takes a step closer. “Does he know what you used to do? Have you told him what really goes bump in the night?” He nods at the press of your lips, accurately surmising that you haven’t. “So you’re starting this new life with a lie.”

“It’s not a l-”

“An omission of facts?” he supplies, brow arched in arrogance.

“I left for a reason. It hasn’t changed.” He paces like a jungle cat eyeing its prey. Apparently, he has something to get off his chest and isn’t going anywhere until he does. “Say what you came to say, then leave.”

“It has.”

“What?”

“Your reason—for leaving—oh, it’s changed.” Placing a hand over his heart, he states, “Everything fell apart after you left. I tried. I tried to let you go. I knew you’d be better off, happier without me, so I tried to forget about you and move on. Throwing myself into hunt after hunt, drowning in bottle after bottle of cheap booze …nothing worked. You’re everywhere.” The longing in his eyes belies the fierceness of his tone. “Your voice is a constant whisper in my ear. The taste of you lingers on my tongue like good whiskey. My dreams …you- you’re always there. It’s like we’re rigged up to an IV of dream root. Even when I’m awake, you haunt me. You're a ghost that I can’t dispel,” throwing his hands up, he grunts, “and I’m done trying to.”

Swallowing thickly, you stare at him, jaw slack, lips shaped around a heavy exhale. You know he loves you. Understand why he never voiced his deepest emotions or let you get too close. But maybe, now …

“You say I don’t know you, but I do. I always have. And I’m sorry for not giving you what you needed. I’m sorry for hurting you. I came here,” doubt creeps into his features for the first time since muscling into the room, “to beg you for a second chance.”

Your pulse beats like a hummingbird's wings as you mutter in disbelief, “It’ll never stop.”

“What?” The word weighs heavy with defeat in the space between you.

“I’ll never stop falling in love with you.”

Smile radiant, his voice a siren’s song, he extends a hand. “Run away with me.”

Sam's Version

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[dreamsontheirway]

Lemon & Honey | S.R.

Summary: The reader has postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, or POTS, and suffers from fainting spells. Warnings: POTS, fainting Word Count: 2.1k

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Growing up, you always had awful menstrual cycles. They were heavy, you were emotional, and black dots danced in your vision each time you stood up. When you became a teenager and started the birth control pill, your cycles became better, more consistent. But that was also when the fainting started.

In your teenage years and into young adulthood, you fainted multiple times a week, sometimes more. At first, the doctors had no idea what was wrong and they thought the worst. It was a scary time for you and your family, not knowing what was causing these debilitating fainting spells.

Finally, a couple months after your twenty-first birthday, you went to a new doctor. You soon learned that your extreme menstrual cycles and your fainting spells were connected. You were diagnosed with POTS.

You recalled the memory, your brows furrowing in confusion as your mother’s hand held yours.

“Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome,” the doctor furthered. “Your fainting is caused by an extreme change in heart rate, particularly when changing from a seated to standing position.”

“Fainting isn’t always a common symptom,” the doctor continued, looking at you with kind eyes. “But it can happen more than people realize. There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/N. We will get you on a medicine to manage this.”

You liked to think that miracle doctor saved your life that day. If it weren’t for him, you may still have these debilitating fainting spells. If it weren’t for him, you would have never found a medicine that reduced your fainting to once in a blue moon. If it weren’t for him, you would’ve never joined the FBI and met the love of your life, Spencer Reid.

You and Spencer have been dating for several months, but he has yet to learn about your diagnosis. With how managed it is now, it merely feels like an afterthought for you.

However, that doesn’t mean Spencer hasn’t picked up on a few things over the course of your relationship. He noticed how awful your periods messed with you; the cramps and the depression. He noticed the way you gripped the side of the table until your knuckles turned white upon standing up from your desk.

Spencer knew that there were a multitude of reasons for these behaviors. Maybe she has low iron levels? Could it be orthostatic hypotension? Unfortunately for Spencer, there was never a way to fully diagnose your symptoms. He was forced to sit and witness, and take care of you, with your struggles. Spencer probably would’ve figured out your diagnosis, if it weren’t for the fact that you’d never fainted around him, yet.

That fateful day came on a Wednesday in the middle of October. The trees were transforming, swirling colors of red and orange and yellow. You walked into the bullpen, preparing yourself for the mountains of case files you knew you had to complete.

You had woken up feeling the symptoms. The pounding in your chest, the dizziness. You could often tell when it was going to be a bad day in terms of your diagnosis, but today you brushed it off. It had been months since you fainted, and you were beginning to hope that you never would again. You realized that was likely wishful thinking, but you continued your morning as normal.

Well, somewhat normal. Upon sitting at your desk, you realized you probably shouldn’t have coffee today. You probably shouldn’t have tea, either, but you needed something. The caffeine from the drinks spiked your heart rate, making fainting inevitable on a day like today. Your thoughts were interrupted by the kind voice of your boyfriend.

“Good morning, I picked this up on my way in.”

A tea bag was draped over the side of the cafe take out cup, and you grinned. Somehow, Spencer always knew what you needed, despite you having yet telling him about your POTS.

“It’s a green tea with a splash of black, with lemon and honey.” Spencer smiled goofily, his mouth straight, but outstretched and downturned. You always thought he looked reminiscent of an amphibian, in the cutest possible way of course.

“You are literally the best thing to ever happen to me,” you spoke, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

Even though you were joking, a part of you really meant it. Sometimes it felt like Spencer read your mind when it came to the things you needed, especially when dealing with your symptoms. Of course, there were many other things that Spencer was a bit clueless about. When it came to your symptoms, though, he somehow just knew.

Spencer occasionally brought you coffee, too, but he had noticed your behavior being off yesterday and last night. He noticed your white knuckles gripping the desk almost every time you stood up yesterday. Last night, he noticed your exhaustion. You two had been sat on your couch, watching a movie. Your head had rested on his shoulder, but you fell asleep nearly twenty minutes into the movie.

Spencer had a hunch, but he wasn’t sure. He was starting to wonder if there was something wrong with your heart rate. If he was correct, coffee was the worst possible thing you could be drinking. In all seriousness, you should only be drinking water, but he knew you needed something to be able to function. So, he decided on your favorite tea order.

Several hours ticked by, the pile of files on your desk slowly but surely decreasing. Your tea was long gone, but your eyes kept fluttering closed. You needed more caffeine or you were going to fall asleep at this desk and probably get written up. The thought of getting in trouble stirred you to a straightened sitting position.

You stood, your head pounding along with your quickened heart rate. Your hands gripped the desk for a few moments, enough time for your vision to clear from the black veil. You continued towards the kitchenette to find something to keep you awake.

Spencer had witnessed the entire ordeal, and he quickly stood and followed you to the kitchenette. If his hunch was correct, any more caffeine would surely make you feel much, much worse.

“Y/N,” he spoke, and you whipped around to look at him. “What’re you doing?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at your boyfriend’s concerned face.

“I am looking for more tea?” You said, a questioning tone lacing your words.

“I don’t think you should have any more.”

“Excuse me?” You asked incredulously. Spencer had never made any sort of remark about what you should or should not be eating or drinking. Luckily, he typically knew better than that.

“I noticed that you get dizzy when you stand up. If my hunch is correct, any more caffeine may make you more dizzy and potentially lose consciousness.”

You gaped at him, wondering how he had merely hypothesized a diagnosis that had taken years for you and your doctor’s to figure out. He is a doctor, you thought, but not that kind of doctor.

“I don’t see how what I drink is any of your business.” You muttered, more harshly than you intended to.

The continuous pounding in your head paired with the frustration of not having more caffeine just pissed you off. You grabbed a water bottle and stormed back to your desk.

Spencer wasn’t upset at your anger towards him, especially when he saw that you chose a water instead of more tea. He was just glad that you were taking care of yourself. In addition, he knew you’d most likely feel bad about your outburst in a few minutes and everything would be fine. Even if you didn’t, he didn’t care all too much.

You stormed back to your desk, the tips of your ears red with anger and embarrassment. You felt bad for lashing out at Spencer, but frankly, you wanted your damn tea. Now you had to resort to the classic way of waking yourself up, cold water and the stinging on your arms. You pulled a hair band that rested on your wrist above the flesh before letting it ricochet back to your skin, leaving a red mark. It hurt, but it did the trick.

Another hour or so passed, and you had to go to the restroom. Once again, upon standing your vision blackened and you waited a few moments before continuing out of the bullpen.

Of course, in typical Spencer fashion, he noticed it all, but there was something different this time. Not only did the time it took you to regain yourself take much longer, but your eyes were squinted as you left the bullpen. It wasn’t that bright in here. He wondered if you had a headache, or if there was still blackness clouding your vision.

He didn’t have time to decide before he hopped up and followed you. Upon seeing you, he was extremely glad that he did. You were leaned against the hallway wall, starting to sag.

“Y/N!”

He rushed to you then, either hands gripping your waist to hold you steady.

You mumbled something incoherently, your vision almost completely masked by unconsciousness. You felt hands on your waist and it was the permission your body seemed to need in order to let go.

Spencer felt your body go limp, and he pulled you into him before lowering you to the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered frantically, as his hands hovered above you, unsure of what to do.

He reminded himself that most fainting victims will wake up within the minute. He knew he had to be patient, but that was fucking impossible at the sight of his girlfriend unconscious and crumpled on the floor.

He was about to get up and call for help when he heard you groan.

“Love,” he cooed, falling to his knees, his hand softly grazing your flushed cheek.

“Spence?”

“Yeah, beautiful, it’s me. I’m right here.”

“Did I faint?” Your eyes were still closed, presumably to shield yourself from the harsh light of the hallway.

“Yeah, love, you did.”

You slowly nodded and started to sit up. Spencer started to protest, but he decided to help you lean against the wall instead.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful like you said.”

His brows crumpled. He felt guilty for making you feel as if this was your fault.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He kissed your temple, his heart fluttering with thankfulness that you were alright.

“Spence, I have to tell you something.”

His heart fluttered in anticipation, worried of what you might say. He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“I have POTS, it’s,”

“Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome,” Spencer finished for you, a guilty smile playing his lips when he realized he interrupted you.

“Yeah,” you smiled at him, thankful that you wouldn’t have to go through the spiel of explanation. Of course, not that you expected you’d have to with Spencer, the resident genius.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he started, rubbing your cheek again. “It seems like you have a bad case of it.”

She paled at the memory of what she had gone through growing up.

“It used to be worse, if you can believe it.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, bothered that you’d had to go through any of this. The fact that it used to be worse pulled on the strings of his heart.

“What can I do?”

You smiled at him, thankful for his understanding and willingness to help.

“If I’m being honest, I should probably go home, but all those files,” you paused, groaning at the thought of your continuous mountain of case files.

“No, we’re going home. I’ll bring your case files and work on them.” Spencer stated matter-of-factly.

You didn’t protest; you knew how fast his reading skills were, and you were at the point where you’d appreciate any help.

“Will you tell Hotch? I’ll grab my stuff," you spoke and started to sit up, but Spencer softly held your shoulders down.

“No, you stay here. I’ll grab your stuff and be right back. I don’t want you fainting again.”

“Spence,” you began to protest, but he was already gone.

You smiled lovingly, sipping at the water from the bottle that he had brought with him when he followed you. You felt so thankful to be with a man like Spencer, someone who looked after you and knew what you needed when you needed it. You loved Spencer Reid, you realized, and you would tell him as soon as he came back.

-----

Part II (?)

A/N: Wow, this was the longest single-shot fic I've written! It sort of was just at the tips of my fingers and wrote itself. I really love it and I hope you do, too! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2!

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