#the only ethan ever to exist :)

[pixiemage]

Holy crap I completely forgot I attempted to download the entire Unus Annus channel right before it got deleted. I just found an old hard drive in my desk I forgot I even had, and like - dude. I have no idea how many videos are on here but it HAS to be in the triple digits, including thumbnails. This is friggin' insane.

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

you know how after black friday came out we all collectively named the hot chocolate boy oliver and wrote him as ethan's younger cousin?

well.... ethan is joey richter.... and he can still be the hot chocolate boy's older cousin because he's four years older then pete..... ted ethan pete power cousin trio

[silkchvffon]

💕 i know you have 99.9% but hi

— ETHAN TELLER – WATSON & LUCIA REYES.

lucia's default state is stressed, on edge and distraught. the first time she ran into ethan she literally ran into him on campus, dropped her arts project which promptly broke, and spent the next 10 minutes cussing him out for something that wasn't his fault. the next time they met she apologized — and by apologized i mean she pretty much bullied him into playing piano for her recital. she's head over heels for him, but affection from lucia looks like this: eye – rolling, name – calling and making him hold her mirror while she reapplies mascara after crying for the eleventh time that day. sorry to this man.

— FINLEY SPENCER – HASTINGS & FINNEAS SONG.

finneas can't count the times he's seen finley study. at cafés, at the library — he's pretty sure they once went to the same party and finley mentally studied there too. finneas doesn't generally go up to people, regardless of whether he knows them or not really, but he approaches finley anyway and asks, as a joke, if he should hack the other's school and make sure finley gets nothing but straight As. the flirting is fun at first, but finley is ambitious and has goals — and finneas is just a bad habit he should shake.

— NATHANIEL CARRINGTON & HOLIDAY GELLER.

holly's diner and nate's motel pretty much go hand in hand. holly's been doing night shifts for a year now and she always seems to cross nate's path on her way to or from her shift. she's seen some things she probably shouldn't have through the windows, heard things through the paper thin walls. one early morning when nate passes she'll offer pancakes on the house and a safe space; not knowing what kind of trouble she may be getting herself into. but nate always looks a little sad, and holly is lonely. in these parts of town it may be nice to have someone who sees — and cares.

send 💕 and i will tell you some muses of ours i think could work as a ship.

[crossover-enthusiast]

Please care about the other members of the haunted house gang I beg you

[old-skulls]

diversity loss! two of your favorite characters are very commonly shipped with a guy you really don’t care about!

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV - masterlist

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough though because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

You kept your voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

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The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan���s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

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You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

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part III　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3

[jijournal]

MY VERY OWN CUPID | G.W

Summary: Valerie Valentine, known as “Hogwarts’ Cupid” for her matchmaking prowess, finds herself heartbroken upon finding out George Weasley, her crush since 4th year, likes Angelina Johnson. This leads her to abandon her romantic endeavors, only to later discover something unexpected.

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: None

A/N: This is my first ever story on tumblr, I really hope you guys enjoy! 🫰

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Valerie Valentine lived for Valentine's Day. It was in her name, after all.

Ever since she was little, Valentine’s Day had been her favorite holiday—the chocolates, the roses, the handwritten love letters. She adored how, just for a day, everything seemed sweeter, softer, filled with endless possibilities. When she arrived at Hogwarts, she quickly made it her mission to bring that magic to the castle.

It started in her second year when her best friend, Hannah Abbott, had fallen hopelessly in love with Roger Davies.

“I can’t tell him,” Hannah had groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’ll probably trip over my own feet and embarrass myself for life.”

Valerie, ever the romantic, had taken that as a challenge. With a carefully written anonymous love letter, a bit of strategic maneuvering, and the right nudge at the right time, Roger had ended up asking Hannah to Hogsmeade. By Valentine’s Day, they were sitting at the Hufflepuff table, sharing a box of Honeydukes chocolates.

“You’re amazing at this, Val,” Hannah had gushed. “You should be Hogwarts’ Cupid!”

And just like that, Valerie Valentine became a legend.

⸻

Valerie took on the title of Hogwarts’ Cupid with pride, dedicating herself to helping students find love. Over the years, she orchestrated dozens of successful love stories, each one becoming a fond memory.

One of her most ambitious plans involved a nervous third-year Hufflepuff, Andrew Macmillan, who had a crush on a Ravenclaw named Helena Clearwater. Andrew was a wreck whenever Helena was around, stammering through his words and turning bright red.

“She’s so smart, Val,” he had sighed. “She probably thinks I’m a complete idiot.”

Valerie had an idea.

“Girls love grand gestures,” she told him, handing him a crumpled parchment. “And you know what’s grand? A love song performed by the Hogwarts suits of armor.”

Andrew had stared at her in horror. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am serious.” She smirked. “I also may or may not have bribed the suits of armor to serenade her during lunch.”

Sure enough, the next day, as Helena was walking to the Great Hall, one of the enchanted suits of armor clanked forward, raised its sword like a conductor’s baton, and began to sing.

“O fair Helena, with eyes so bright,

You make my heart take glorious flight!

Oh, would you fancy a date with me?

For Butterbeer and cakes of treacle sweet?”

Andrew looked like he was about to pass out from sheer embarrassment.

But then—Helena laughed. A real, delighted laugh. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, turning to Andrew. “Did you do this?”

He stammered for a moment before nodding.

She smiled. “It’s cute. I’d love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

Valerie cheered from the sidelines. Another successful match.

⸻

By her third year, Valerie had students seeking her out for help. One of them was a shy Gryffindor named Ethan Wood, who had a major crush on Katie Bell.

“She’s so cool,” he groaned. “She’s an amazing Chaser, and she’s funny, and—and she probably doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Well, let’s change that,” Valerie had said.

Knowing Katie loved Chocolate Frogs, Valerie devised a plan. Ethan would send her a Chocolate Frog every morning for a week, each one accompanied by a tiny, anonymous note with a compliment.

The first note: You play Quidditch like a star.

The second: Your laugh is the best sound in the world.

By the time the seventh note arrived, Katie was determined to find out who her secret admirer was. She cornered Valerie at the common room, eyes shining with curiosity.

“You know, don’t you?” she asked.

Valerie grinned. “What would you do if I did?”

“I’d probably want to talk to him.”

So, later that evening, Valerie orchestrated the grand reveal. Ethan, nervous as ever, stood by the fireplace, hands fidgeting at his sides. When Katie walked up to him, Chocolate Frog in hand, she smirked.

“So,” she said, tossing the frog at him playfully. “You’ve been feeding me an unhealthy amount of sugar.”

Ethan stammered. “Uh—uh—sorry?”

Katie laughed. “Don’t be. Want to go to Hogsmeade with me?”

Ethan nearly fainted. Valerie patted herself on the back. Another victory.

⸻

For three years, Valerie had been Hogwarts’ Cupid. She loved it. She lived for it.

"Hogwarts' Cupid" had always been surrounded by love—not just romantic love, but the kind of warmth that came from friendships, from laughter, from the little things that made life feel magical. And yet, nothing had prepared her for the moment she realized she was in love with George Weasley.

She never meant to. It just happened—the way his laughter echoed through the common room, the way he always had a joke up his sleeve, the way his mischievous grin made her stomach flip.

⸻

It happened one evening in her fourth year, during the first snowfall of the winter. The Gryffindor common room was cozy, the fire crackling in the hearth, but Valerie had always been drawn to the magic of fresh snow. So when she saw the first flakes drifting past the castle windows, she slipped outside.

She didn’t expect anyone else to be out there, but of course—George Weasley never did the expected.

“Oi, Valentine,” he called from behind her as she stood in the courtyard, snowflakes catching in her hair. “Fancy meeting you out here. What’s a Cupid like you doing standing alone in the cold?”

She turned to find him grinning, his red hair dusted with snow, his cheeks pink from the chill.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back. “Shouldn’t you be inside, plotting your next great prank?”

George put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I do have other interests, you know.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Like this,” he said, before suddenly scooping up a handful of snow and launching it at her.

Valerie shrieked as the snow hit her shoulder. “George!”

“What? Cupid needs to learn how to dodge!” he teased, already gathering more snow.

She didn’t hesitate. She bent down, packed a snowball, and threw it at him with all her might—only for him to duck at the last second. It sailed past him and hit none other than Professor McGonagall’s window.

Both of them froze.

George turned to her, his eyes wide, and then—he grinned. “Run.”

Valerie didn’t need to be told twice. She bolted, George right beside her, the two of them slipping and sliding across the snowy courtyard as laughter bubbled out of them. They only stopped when they reached the covered bridge, breathless and shivering but giddy.

“That was all your fault,” Valerie panted, leaning against the railing.

George smirked. “Oh, definitely yours. I was just an innocent bystander.”

She rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, he reached out, brushing a bit of snow from her hair. It was such a small gesture, but it sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

Their eyes met. And for the first time, standing there in the soft glow of moonlight reflecting off the snow, Valerie saw him differently.

Not just as the prankster. Not just as her friend.

But as someone who made her heart race.

Someone she wanted.

The realization hit her so suddenly that she barely managed to breathe.

George tilted his head, a slow, teasing smile forming on his lips. “You alright there, Val?”

She swallowed, forcing herself to laugh. “Y-Yeah. Just cold.”

“Then we’d better get inside before you freeze,” he said, throwing an arm around her shoulders and steering her back toward the castle.

She barely heard him over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Because that was the moment she knew—

She had fallen for George Weasley.

⸻

By her sixth year, Valentine’s Day at Hogwarts was practically synonymous with Valerie Valentine.

The weeks leading up to the holiday were always the busiest. Students whispered in hallways, love letters passed hands, and Valerie’s name floated through conversations like a spell. As usual, she was in high demand—helping a lovestruck Ravenclaw compose a heartfelt poem, advising a nervous Hufflepuff on how to casually bump into his crush, and sneaking sweets into the Gryffindor common room for a surprise confession plan.

She should have been thrilled.

And yet, for the first time, Valerie felt tired. Something about it felt off this year. Maybe it was because, despite all the magic she created for others, she had never been on the receiving end of it.

Then, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, George Weasley walked up to her.

“Hey, Val,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost shy. “Got a minute?”

Her heart gave a traitorous little flutter—an automatic reaction at this point.

“Of course,” she said, forcing herself to act normal. “Need help with a prank?"

“Not exactly.” He hesitated, then asked, “Do you know if Angelina’s dating anyone?”

The world seemed to tilt.

The words were a Bludger to the stomach, knocking the breath right out of her.

Angelina. Of course.

She was smart, confident, talented—his best friend. They were already close, always sitting together at meals, always joking and laughing in that effortless way that made Valerie’s heart ache.

And why wouldn’t he like her?

Valerie swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to smile. “I—I don’t think so. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” George said with a shrug, a slight smile plastered on his face. “Just wondering.”

That was all the confirmation she needed.

She barely remembered the rest of the conversation. Somehow, she managed to act normal—laughing at all the right moments, nodding along as if her heart wasn’t shattering into pieces. The moment George walked away, she turned on her heel and fled to her dormitory.

She barely noticed the way her hands trembled as she grabbed the stack of love letters from her desk—the ones she had spent years helping craft, the delicate parchment filled with confessions she had helped others deliver.

With a shaking breath, she threw them into the fireplace.

The flames swallowed them up, turning love into ashes.

Hogwarts’ Cupid was officially retired.

⸻

For the first time in three years, Valerie refused to help anyone with their Valentine’s Day plans.

When a nervous fourth-year approached her in the library with a love letter, she shoved it back at them without a word. When Hannah Abbott asked for advice on which chocolates to get Roger, Valerie snapped, “Does it really matter?”

Hannah folded her arms. “Okay, what is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Valerie muttered, burying herself deeper into her Potions textbook.

Hannah wasn’t convinced. “You love this holiday. It’s your thing.”

“Not anymore.”

Hannah stared at her, then realization dawned on her face. “This is about him, isn’t it?”

Valerie stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hannah sighed. “Val, if you’re upset about something, talk to him. You never just give up.”

But Valerie shook her head. What was the point? George had already made his choice.

So, on Valentine’s Day, while the Great Hall buzzed with excitement, while couples exchanged gifts and friends laughed over ridiculous love notes, Valerie sat in the Gryffindor common room, alone.

She refused to look at the door. She would not let herself wonder if George had asked Angelina out.

Then, just as she was debating whether to go hide in her dormitory for the rest of the night, George plopped down beside her.

“Alright, Valentine,” he said, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “What’s going on?”

Valerie scowled. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re usually running around playing matchmaker, making sure everyone has a perfect day,” George said, eyeing her closely. “And yet, here you are, sulking like someone just told you Chocolate Frogs were being discontinued.”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe I’m just sick of love stories.”

George blinked, clearly taken aback. “Alright, who are you and what have you done with Valerie Valentine?”

She huffed. “Why do you even care? Shouldn’t you be off with Angelina?”

George frowned. “Angelina?”

Valerie glared at him. “You asked about her.”

George tilted his head. “Yeah…? So?”

“So,” she snapped, “if you’re going to ask her out, just do it already.”

For a moment, George just stared at her. Then, suddenly—

He laughed.

A real, full-bodied laugh.

Valerie gaped. “What’s so funny?!”

George grinned at her like she was the biggest idiot in the world. “Oh, Merlin, you’re thick.”

She scowled. “Excuse me?!”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Val, I asked about Angelina because Fred fancies her. I was helping him.”

The world came to a screeching halt.

Her mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “Wait—you don’t like her?”

George smirked. “Of course not. She’s great, but she’s not the one I wanted to spend Valentine’s Day with.”

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest. “Then… who do you want to spend it with?”

George raised an eyebrow. “Who do you think?”

She froze.

Everything—the endless matchmaking, the stolen glances, the little moments between them—it all suddenly clicked into place.

“You,” he said simply.

Her breath hitched.

For the first time in her life, Valerie Valentine was speechless.

George smirked, tilting his head. “Now, if our former Hogwarts’ Cupid is done sulking, can I take her on a proper date?”

Valerie stared at him, her heart pounding, before a slow, hesitant smile tugged at her lips. “I suppose…” She tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to consider it. “I could make an exception.”

George laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “That’s my girl.”

And just like that, Hogwarts’ Cupid finally found herself caught in the love story she never saw coming.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

comment for taglist!

masterlist!

[strawberry-bubblef]

How about Rook and his date MC going to see a play put on by RSA but the play turns out to be pretty bad.

Please and thank you!

Seeing a bad RSA play with Rook

Rook Hunt was a man of refined taste.

He found beauty in all things,the elegance of a well-crafted poem, the tension of a duel fought with perfect form, the raw emotion in an actor’s final monologue. Theatre was a treasure to him, a celebration of the human experience in its most dramatic form.

So when he invited you on a date to see a play at Royal Sword Academy, you had assumed it would be… well, good.

You were so wrong.

From the moment the curtain lifted, you knew something was off.

The costumes were well-made, and the set design was decent, but the actors— oh, the actors.

The lead stumbled over their lines. The supporting cast looked painfully stiff, like they were reading directly from cue cards. One poor extra was so nervous that they nearly ran offstage in the middle of a scene.

And the dialogue?

It was as if someone had dumped Shakespeare, a romance novel, and an ancient prophecy into a blender and decided, Yes. This is perfect.

You tried,really tried,to keep a neutral face.

But then, disaster struck.

The hero was meant to deliver a dramatic confession of love, eyes filled with longing, voice trembling with emotion.

Instead, he took a deep breath and declared:

"Oh, my dearest Ethan—"

Silence.

You could practically hear the audience holding their breath.

One problem.

The male lead’s name wasn’t Ethan.

It was Daniel.

And judging by the way Daniel’s eyes widened in horror, it was clear that was not part of the script.

You choked on a laugh.

Rook, beside you, remained perfectly composed, his eyes glittering with amusement. He turned his head ever so slightly and whispered, “Ah, ma chère colombe, you are enchanted, n’est-ce pas?”

You shot him a look. “This is terrible.”

His lips twitched. “Terrible? Non, non, non! It is an experience! A rare, fleeting moment of imperfect beauty!”

You gawked at him. “Rook. The main character just got their love interest’s name wrong.”

“Ah, but is that not a charming display of human fallibility?”

“She called him Ethan.”

“Oui.”

“And then he called her by the wrong name too.”

“Truly, a match made in destiny,” he whispered, clearly enjoying himself far more than he should have.

You groaned, sinking into your seat. The play only got worse from there.

At one point, a prop sword broke mid-duel, and the actors had to pretend they were still fighting, awkwardly waving broken hilts at each other. One of the background characters forgot their cue and ran onto the stage three scenes too early, only to freeze like a deer in headlights before slowly backing away.

And the absolute peak of the disaster?

The dramatic final act,where the villain was supposed to tragically perish in battle was completely ruined when one of the stagehands tripped over a wire and accidentally pulled the curtains too soon, cutting the scene mid-monologue.

The audience sat in stunned silence.

And beside you?

Rook Hunt was grinning like he had just witnessed art in its purest form.

As soon as the final curtain fell, the actors rushed offstage so fast you were sure they wanted to erase the entire performance from existence.

You turned to Rook, ready to drag him for making you sit through this, but before you could say anything, he took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“Ma chérie, I must thank you.” His eyes sparkled with delight. “Never have I been so entertained,not just by the play, but by the radiance of your reactions! Watching your expressions shift from hope to horror has been a masterpiece in itself!”

You gave him a long, exhausted look. “You enjoyed watching me suffer, didn’t you?”

“But of course! C’est l’amour, non?”

You groaned, but your lips twitched despite yourself. “You owe me for this, Hunt.”

His eyes gleamed. “Ah, a challenge! Then I shall make it up to you with the most exquisite dessert you have ever tasted!”

“…Fine. But I swear, if you ever bring me to something this bad again—”

“Ah, ah! Mon trésor, a theatre date is only as enjoyable as the company you keep.” His smile turned playful. “And you, ma chérie, make even a disaster feel like a dream.”

You rolled your eyes. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

But you still took his hand as he led you toward a café for dessert, already wondering what other questionable adventures he had planned for your next date.

English is not my first language !

[nolovelingers]

hi omg i loved ur hcs for ethan landry as ur bf <333 do you think you could write something like that, but for tate langdon, please?

TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧

ೄྀ࿐ requested ! ˊˎ-

headcanons — // cw ! : dark themes ,, obsessive tendencies,, nsfw !! similar to ethans i try to keep these as realistic as my silly little mind is able to think !! very toxic relationship 🌀 talk of self harm & smoking

——————————————————————————

 SFW !!

TATE LANGDON AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . is like meeting someone who’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. there are no duplicates, copies or a person even remotely similar to the dark eyed boy.

there’s always been something about his odd personality that has a strange charm to it. he’s always held himself up to his own standards and even back before the entire westfield high situation he’s been very picky about his living style and the people he surrounds himself with.

so therefore when he met you, the stilled silence to his violent tornado, it was as if everything else in the world dimmed and the spotlight shone to you.

he would never leave you alone. not when you move rooms, not if you try to have people over, not when you stormed into the backyard and sat under the flickering moon as you desperately grasped for alone time. not even when you go to the bathroom.

the second he came into your life and you allowed him to, privacy no longer existed. the only time he would ever leave was if he had his own emergency to partake to or if your guardian(s) were around.

at first it was cute, you couldn’t really deny the fact that having a boyfriend so attached to the hip and dependent made your heart flutter in some sort of way. but you quickly learned that even as dreamy as it sounds it’s not all that great.

if you run to the bathroom and lock yourself inside the langdon boy is fast to follow suite, confused on where or what you were running from until he watched you shut the restroom door and he slid his back against it; knees brought up to his chest as he patiently waited for you to come back out. and trust me, he will wait. doesn’t matter if it’s hours or even half of the day. he won’t move an inch.

you hardly invite friends over but the few times you do you’re fast to regret it. you tell him your friends coming over, hoping he’ll take the hint to leave, and he’ll only blankly stare at you; face devoid of any emotion as he mutters a gentle ‘oh’ before returning to looking through your collections of whatever it is you have an abundance of. maybe books, cd’s, vinyls, comics, posters, crystals/rocks, stuffed animals, funky socks or a hoard of animal bones; there’s nothing in your room tate hasnt gotten his hands on.

even after you alert him of the approaching company unless you plan on shoving him out or repeatedly asking him to leave he doesn’t plan on going anywhere. he’s terrible at reading social cues and you have to spell out the simplest things for him.

he’s quick to judge your friends, not one of them is good enough for you in his mind and he’ll be sure to voice that. sometimes even straight to their face; with a blank expression and no emotion behind his eyes. it doesn’t matter how close or how long you’ve known someone, could even be your whole life, they’re not good for you like he is.

he often says the most terrible and disgusting things about them to your face, judging you heavily for the people you hang around and making you feel insecure.

he is definitely the type to drive wedges in between all of your relationships. just with your friends at first but as the relationship furthers he begins to do the same to your family too.

obviously he can’t leave the house but if there was ever a time you ranted about someone you dislike, hurt your feelings or overall anything spoken poorly about them he would remember it till halloween and carefully map out their murder. i mean, you wanted them to die right? why else would you tell him about it?

tate is extremely oblivious to your emotions. he loves you so much and it’s clear to him you must be meant for each other. so no matter how you feel back, reciprocated or not tate would assume you liked him too. he refuses to be in the friend zone and throws a hissy fit if you ever even try.

as we all known he’s one of the prettiest criers out there and this is very useful when it comes to manipulating. he knows you have a weak spot for seeing his tears and now anytime you try to lecture him, kick him out or he feels as though you’re not understanding his (rather malicious) side of the story the tears are quick to fall. but the tricky thing here is that they are always real tears of sadness and regret; it’s just as though he’s reprogrammed himself to cry at any minor inconvenience.

his favorite cuddle position is spooning and he often likes to be the little spoon. no one in his life has ever cared for him enough (or at least in his eyes they haven’t), and when you have your arms securely around him, pulling him into you; it’s like heaven on earth. he feels so safe, warm and comforted. there are of course days where the rolls switch but there’s really no denying he prefers to be the one being spooned.

id definitely say he’s a sort of pathological liar and even when he doesn’t mean for it to happen lies fall from his mouth as easy as tears stream from his eyes. it could be about the stupidest shit or it could be actually serious as he tries to work his way out of a situation he’s actually at fault for.

this makes it really hard to trust him, because it’s eerily scary how easy it is for him to lie straight to your face with even blinking, or come up with excuses on the spot. i know people like to claim they’re usually good at picking up when people are lying to them but with tate it’s a huge challenge. he’s unnaturally good at it and doesn’t hesitate.

it’s not easy to pick up on his fibs in the moment but there are a few times you’re able to realize later on; as his stories don’t add up or he forgot his lie in the first place and comes up with a completely different one when asked the same question from before.

and even then once he gets caught; deny deny deny. you’re the one in the wrong for accusing him of something like that when he just has a poor memory and suddenly you’re the bad guy for pointing fingers even though you’re the one with evidence and he just throws out empty accusations.

if you smoke i think he’d love to break into your stash a lot, he didn’t use weed before his death but once you introduce him i see him as a sort of mini-stoner. he’ll use your stuff without even asking. he kind of contradicts himself in that way because for the most part when he was still living he thought people who smoked or drank were stupid, ruining their body. he looked down on them. when you’re dead though you cant really destroy your body and though he still doesn’t like drinking he’ll indulge in smoking.

if you do any sort of after school activity or club he’ll encourage you to quit, telling you how it’s all stupid and a waste of time that you could be spending together. if you refuse he’ll try to sabotage it for you the best he can while being confined to the house. maybe sending a nasty email to your teacher/coach or by ruining a uniform or equipment you use.

there’s definitely times when he’s asked you to drop out of highschool to which you immediately declined and there’s not really much else he could do about this nuisance.

langdon will put you onto his likes and interests, music or movies he has a taste for. he’ll try the stuff you like as well but he’s quick to judge and doesn’t do second thoughts or tries. if he doesn’t like it he won’t even pretend to and will harsh out negative reviews before you turn it off. and then he’ll act confused on why you suddenly stopped it but he’s very glad you did. he couldn’t stand it.

and because of this when you’re hanging out it’s all about what tate wants to do. the music he wants to play. the things he wants to talk about and the films he wants to watch.

jealousy is a major problem for him and the mention of really anyone, but especially if it’s a guy, will have his blood pumping and his head spinning.

to him, he only has you. it should be the same way around, he absolutely hates that you have and know other people that aren’t just him.

tw? — if you ever try to leave him he goes all out and puts on the most dramatic show you’ve literally ever seen. throwing himself against walls, screaming and crying his eyes out, burying his head in his knees and clutching at his hair while begging and pleading for you to stay. he doesn’t get angry at all but turns more pathetic and desperate as he clings onto you. lots of “ill do better”, “you can’t leave me”, “tell me what I did wrong” and “you’re all I have”’s leaving his lips. if this doesn’t work he’ll harm himself in front of you, smashing his head against the wall or even using a sharp tool to cut into his arm while only asking one thing. “is this what you want?”

tw? — it’s a very draining relationship and can impact your mental space a lot. if you self harm he will catch you eventually, whether it’s while in the act or the scars/scabs from after. he’ll grab your arm (not assuming that’s where you sh, just so he has a grip on you), asking you how you could be so selfish (which is his way of caring) and then asking you to cut him instead anytime you wanted to hurt yourself. this is obviously off putting and drives a wedge between you for a while, which he will trap you back by guilting you and apologizing. (even though he was completely serious when asking and still is.)

the blonde haired boy lives for your validation. he’s constantly asking for reassurance and pestering you with loads of questions. whether if it’s if you like his outfit to if you still had feelings for him or not.

he’s a huge listener than he is a talker and could sit for hours, happily criss crossed and a toothless and content smile on his face while you go on about every little detail of your day.

he’s definitely asked you to do his eyeliner before but would rather die (again) than have anything else applied to his skin. it would cripple his masculinity.

overall he’s very touchy, craving for any contact he can get with you. resting his head on your shoulder, holding hands, his hand on your thigh or pinkies intwined. he always has to be touching you in some way.

recommending books and songs are one of his all time favorite things to do and he does expect you to read or listen to all of his suggestions. he’ll ask you about it a few days later after initially suggesting it and will get upset if you still haven’t looked into it.

tate hardly gets angry, he’s very sensitive as we all know and most of the time it ends in his hysterical sobs; but when the fire inside him lights it’s terrifying.

if you weren’t the one to make him angry you’d usually be okay, he’d rant about it to you while you played with his hair; describing all of the horrendous ways he wanted to see the person or thing he’s mad at crash and burn. if he’s angry at you it’s like he moves on his own, putting you in a chokehold and slamming you against the wall, yelling and pointing fingers at you. pushing items off your desks/dressers/shelf’s and you make him go away; scared of him hurting you. he wouldn’t, not intentionally, but it was a very scary sight to see.

of course within hours he’d return, tears streaming down his face and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, arms latched around your legs as he sobbed into them and refused to let go until you forgave him.

as much as he loves you and wants you to be together forever, he would never purposefully go to the extent of killing you in the house so you could stay with him forever at the age you are. it sucks, he knows it sucks, but he does have a boundary set for that. he doesn’t want you stuck there for the rest of your life. he’s just hoping you’ll stay in that house with him willingly anyway. he’d let you go after crying his heart out for days, but he’d never let you forget him or move on. and being honest; he would probably start to regret the decision.

his love for you goes beyond words, it consumes him completely. he knows now his purpose. the day he died in that house and the years that passed waiting up to the day he met you.

he was made for loving you, in his own sick way. you are his entire heart.

NSFW !!

tate is a switch in the bedroom, but he’s so easy to dominate which makes him lead towards being more submissive. of course he’ll be in his dominant moods, there’s no doubt, but it’s laughable how easy it is to take control back over him.

he loves to overstimulate you, fucking you or relentlessly giving you head for hours, not giving you rest inbetween as you beg for him to stop through shattered moans.

(if you’re a female) — we all know about his mommy issues and he definitely incorporates that into the bedroom in some ways.

(if you’re a female) — he’s a tits man rather than ass and anytime you’re going at it your shirt has to be off, he doesn’t care what size breasts you have all he wants is to attach his mouth around your nipples and tease them with his tongue, sucking lightly before leaving hickeys all over them.

(if you’re a female) — he has the best fuck me eyes the worlds ever seen and when he’s bottoming he can’t stop himself from calling you ‘mama’.

he’s very kinky, and he has put on the infamous leather suit before to fuck you. it makes him feel more powerful, like he’s in control.

when he’s topping he’ll have one hand pinning one of your arms above your hand while using his other to interlace your fingers, crying into your neck with all the pleasure he’s feeling.

he’s not the greatest on cleaning up afterwords but he always snuggles you, cuddling up to you in a ball and resting his head soundly on your chest as his breathing slows and he drifts off.

but the most important thing to know — tate is godly at sex. he doesn’t have the most experience in the world but he definitely wasn’t a virgin by the time you met and he knows what he’s doing.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ a/n : thank you sm for requesting , made my day !! i hope that this is to your liking, i appreciate the compliment ab my ethan headcanon i tried my best <33. my inbox is open to all !!

started 08.06.23. finished 08.07.23.

©️nolovelingers 2023

[resident-idiot-simp]

Wolverine getting some of Deadpool's 4th wall awareness because of the matter and antimatter ordeal

Featuring: @existentialgaybirdnerd @steriotypicaloutlaw

(x)

More for @castielsprostate

Bird: Mind to mind communication using the voices even far apart

Ok ok but Logan who can now truly understand Wade and everyone is super confused by it. Also (I am convinced at least Vanessa thinks he's absolutely onto something so this just confirms it for her) But others start thinking Wade may not be completely insane possibly

On the other hand they now think Logan is insane as well which is just as funny.

But all of the small things that would change. Chef's kiss

Bird: They use the voices as a sort of comm link too, Logan can keep up with wade’s style of thinking now and can even finish his thoughts with him

But imagine everyone's reactions to the seamless communication between them. As well as Logan now talking into thin air like Wade does. It definitely gets people thinking

Ethan:

Now I'm just imagining a scenario where they're talking to Colossus or someone else and it's just

W- "Yeah, sometimes we finish each-"

L- other's sentences. It's really not"

W- "that big of a deal... And you were supposed to say sandwiches, we talked about this Peanut." Wolverine rolls his eyes and lovingly shakes his head.

(Bold is them both talking at the same time)

Bird: Logan would chime in with the wrong words sometimes specifically to fuck with Wade, and then when they’re both pissed they speak at the same time and in the same register and it gets creepy

Wade and Logan having conversations that make absolutely NO sense to anyone besides them. The boxes asking things or a conversation about other impossible things that others wouldn't know

Bird: There’s an entire four way conversation and the outsiders are only getting half of it lol

Also something that always gets me about characters being self aware is the implied idea nothing they do matters or it would hurt the others that are unaware. Well maybe more so the latter point. Because it doesn't matter if it's not technically real it's real to them so I just never like that argument. All to say I think Logan really just doesn't give a shit he isn't technically real

Bird: Oh absolutely not, Logan would have his first 4th wall break and just raise an eyebrow and look away and slowly as they happen more and more on purpose he does things to fuck with the audience

Wade talks to the audience to share a joke Logan talks to the audience to insult/mock them. Surprisingly it makes all the difference

Bird: Logan freaks people out by looking into the distance and spitting a kind of joking insult and then walking away

It also somehow convinces people that it's still definitely the same wolverine and he hasn't completely lost his mind

Bird: When people start getting more suspicious of him he’ll insult something and stalk off

Vanessa is elsewhere taking a victory lap. Also Laura is very confused but also falls into the they are onto something club. I feel like Al ABSOLUTELY believes they are onto something

Bird: Laura likes to try to spot what they’re talking to, looking in the vague directions they’re looking at. Al will simply hold out a hand to one of them, go “point me” and flips off whatever audience they’re talking to now

Al is to old and has seen (or not seen) too much and specifically lived with Wade long enough to know

A) He isn't insane

B) He's almost always right

C) he knows things he really shouldn't

Bird: And when Logan starts doing the same stuff and insulting the air instead of just joking with it, she starts asking to flip off who Logan is talking to and he’s all too happy to point her

And once they explain exactly what happens she's just like oh yeah that makes sense. She doesn't need more context

ALSO This makes them both anchor beings but specifically one anchor being. They merged they now have to both be there for it to continue to exist

What if this was the first time it has ever happened in the TVA want to just study them because how did you manage this??

I read a fic that mentioned this also almost seem to increase their powers slightly and I love that idea as well

Bird: Kind of combines them, makes the healing faster and makes them harder to hurt

It's barely noticeable but it's just enough to make them even worse to deal with. They become the bane of everyone's existence because they are now truly unstoppable

Also the X-Men are trying to figure out exactly what happened. It isn't working It can't really be explained well because Wade is just kind of beyond exclamation

Logan is just vibing now while being more immortal than ever and having a whole new world opened up to him. I imagine it gets to the point where he's learning more and more and he just starts pointing randomly at some of the people that come across and saying actor's names and Wade is just beside him nodding enthusiastically and praising him

[wxshing-aep]

The Prom Committee (pt 1)

Ethan Morales x fem!reader

based on this request:

"how about one where y/n runs an after school club so Ethan keeps getting detention on purpose to see her because he thinks “clubs are for dorks” to quote Paxton and so his reputation as the bad boy isn’t ruined"

Warnings: swearing, banter, the word boobs

AN: decided to make it a 2 parter cause it was getting long while I was writing it and wanted to give Ethan more depth of character than the actually show so part 2 coming tmrw probs!

When his assignment was handed back by Señora Diaz upside down, Ethan wasn't surprised by the big F glaring back at him in red ink when he turned the page over.

“Stupid bitch” he muttered under his breath.

“In Español, Ethan” Señora Diaz paused on her way back to the blackboard, unsure of what he said but certain that it wasn't in Spanish.

“Sorry" he retorted and she continued her route back to the front of the classroom.

"perra estúpida”

“ethan!”

That’s how Ethan ended up in detention for the umpteenth time in his academic career, tapping his pen on the desk in the nearly empty classroom with Mr. Shapiro's happy go-lucky self staring back at him.

"Well, happy to have you here Ethan!" Mr. Shapiro greets picking up a clipboard from his desk. "Not happy to be here" Ethan deadpanned. "Sorry to hear that. Not sure how you managed to get detention during the first week of school, but hey I think that might be a new Sherman Oaks record! Congrats buddy!" Mr. Shapiro cheers before realizing the younger boy is not the slightest bit amused. "Alright, tough crowd."

"Moving right along then," Mr. Shapiro clicks a pen in his hand "time to take roll!" which causes Ethan to look around the empty classroom.

"...I'm literally the only one here"

"I know, I just love checking things off lists," Mr. Shapiro clears his throats " so do I have a Morales comma Ethan?"

"seriously dude?"

"Second call for Ethan Morales"

"you're gonna keep going til I say here, aren't you?"

"You betcha!"

"Here."

"Awesome!" Mr. Shapiro marks a giant check by the one name on his attendance sheet. "god I love doing that- Alright so unfortunately I've gotta skidaddle to help out with the faculty potluck but lucky for you sir we're implementing more of a reformative detention style this year!"

"What the hell does that mean" Ethan asked.

"It means, that instead of sitting here for the next few hours, you my friend, get to offer your help to one of the after school clubs or committees that are a bit low on helping hands" Shapiro responds with finger guns. "so guess who's today's newest member of the prom committee!"

"yea, no. I'm not joining some stupid after school club. clubs are for dorks, losers, and ugly people" Ethan responds grabbing his backpack out of the chair next to him to get up and leave.

"well actually it's a committee"

"even worse"

"Alrighty well I can see what the other options-" is all Mr Shapiro gets out before he is interrupted by your voice from the doorway.

"Oh- hey! Mr. Shapiro, did you find anyone to help with the prom posters? Eric said he'd help me out but then canceled cause he said he had to train with the assistant swim coach to quote make Michael Phelps my bitch end quote. Whatever that means, so I'm kinda flying solo here" You say, drawing Ethan's attention towards you as well.

hot damn. okay maybe after school activities are not only for ugly people. He thinks you might be the prettiest girl he's ever seen and definitely takes a mental note of your outfit that's hugging you in all the right places. He quickly realizes that he doesn't know your name and has no idea how he's never been informed of your existence prior to this moment. He's snapped back to reality by Mr. Shapiro responding to your question. "Ah- I'm sorry but Ethan is-"

"super excited to help decorate for prom" Ethan finds himself blurting out before Mr. Shapiro could finish his sentence.

"Oh- well that's great! Uh Ethan just report back by 6 so I can log your hours! I'm gonna get going, you kids have fun decorating. Go crickets!" Mr. Shapiro says, making his exit as you watch him almost skip down the hall.

"Sup, I'm Ethan" Your attention is brought back to the brown eyed curly haired boy who's suddenly standing in front of you (how the hell did he cross the room that fast, you wonder) with an outstretched hand. He never really shakes hands, he just wanted an excuse to touch you. He's cute, you note mentally. You accept the offer and shake his hand. "and you are?" he continues.

"I'm-" you pause noticing those not so innocent brown eyes are directed elsewhere, "acutely aware of the fact that you're staring at my boobs".

Ethan thinks his brain might've just short circuited cause he was definitely just caught red handed. He'd recently grown a lot more confident with girls since his summer growth spurt and subsequent glow up had dramatically increased the number of girls interested in him, but there was something about you and how you so deliberately called him out that had definitely thrown him off his game.

"Sorry- I uh- I was actually looking at your shirt. They're- It's nice" he wants to die he thinks.

You chuckle at his sudden change in demeanor. "Hmm. Yea, I know they are" you respond, turning on a heel and heading toward the auditorium.

"You comin or what?"

-

For one person, you had made pretty okay progress in a week. The current task at hand was making posters to get people excited for the theme reveal. The ground was littered with several half finished or barely started posters.

"Can you draw?" You asked Ethan.

"I'm not much of an artist"

"Really? the graffiti on the side of the school says otherwise. Your handwriting definitely sucks though so I'll do that, but the art's good and if you can do it with a spray can, you can definitely do it with some paint and markers" your unsolicited review of his graffiti made him crack a smile. His latest act of defiance had been a giant snake comically eating a cricket accompanied with the words "get fucked" on the side of the school building.

"You can't prove that was me" he challenges.

"Maybe not, but Mr. Shapiro had mentioned that I might have a detention helper today thanks to Señora Diaz and I happened to notice the words 'stupid bitch' spray painted on her car containing the same weird ass t's as the graffiti on the side of the school and here you are, Ethan."

"Damn, you're good" he pauses realizing he can't throw your name back at you because he still doesn't know it.

"Y/n" you say quietly.

"Huh?"

"My name's y/n"

Pretty name for a pretty girl, he thought.

"Alright y/n. I'll draw as long as I don't have to to touch any glitter. that shit's impossible to get off"

"deal"

"and I don't write my t's weird"

"you write your t's like a crazy person"

-

Time was pretty much flying by. Together you'd gotten nearly twenty posters done and were slowly finding out more information about each other. You were informed about some of Ethan's tattoos and how he'd actually drawn the designs for all of them himself. Not an artist, my ass, you thought. Ethan learned that he hadn't met you before because you'd previously been homeschooled and had all but begged your parents to be able to go to school with other kids for your senior year until they finally cracked and agreed to enroll you at Sherman Oaks.

"Ah I see, you're a total secret weirdo. That explains your freaky detective skills" he teases.

"I am not a secret weirdo. I just like criminal minds and puzzles"

"You were homeschooled. All homeschooled kids are a little weird"

"That's an unfair stereotype"

"Whatever you say, y/n"

"If anything you're the secret weirdo. or at least an undercover art nerd"

"I'm not an undercover art nerd"

"Yea you are. Something tells me this whole" you gestured largely to him sitting a couple feet away from you, "tortured angsty hot skater boy thing you've got going on is a pretty recent development" you comment absent-mindedly. You looked back up from your poster when he didn't respond to see him sitting there, arms crossed with a smug grin on his face.

"What?" you prodded.

"You totally just called me hot"

You're now very aware that he's a bit closer to you than he was before.

"mm don't think so"

"oh you definitely did"

"did not"

"did too"

"did not" that one came out much less confidently considering his hand had made its way to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. damn, he's good.

"whatever you say, y/n" he almost whispers. have his eyes been that sparkly this whole time? He's leaning in and you're definitely not backing away. You're maybe a centimeter away from his lips until the alarm blaring from your phone, which seemed like much better idea hours ago, sent you flying back from him and scared the shit out of both you.

"shit- I- god that scared me, I uh set an alarm for 6 so you'd remember to check in with Mr. Shapiro cause, ya know, I thought we'd both probably be busy. Um- busy making posters, i mean. Obviously I mean making posters cause we definitely wouldn't be busy doing anything else so-" you ramble.

The smug little smirk has made its way back onto Ethan's face as he is quite enjoying this role reversal from your first interaction of the day.

"shut up" you say to him.

"I didn't even say anything" he responded, hands in the air in surrender.

"I've gotta head home, but thanks for helping out even though you basically had to be here. If you ever find yourself in detention again this semester, feel free to help out. Hopefully the committee is more than just me by then" you say, starting to gather your belongings. Ethan secretly hopes it isn't, he likes the idea of hanging out with just you.

"I probably will find myself in detention again. It's kinda part of this whole tortured angsty hot skater boy thing I've got going on" he says throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"not what I said" you still attempt to deny.

"sure it wasn't"

"bye ethan"

"bye y/n"

Yea, he'll definitely be finding himself in detention again.

-

Read Part 2 here

[11queensupreme11]

Hi! So, I actually don't know if I sent this ask cuz I wanted to send it at like 2 o'clock in the morning, and I also had the idea for the ask in what might have been a dream. Overall I am very confused, so if I did send this already or answered an ask similar to this then please ignore this 😅

So I was wondering what would happen if, in the cheating au, Percy does kill herself, but cu suddenly wakes up to when she first arrived, like in the isekai asks a while back. How insane would he be? Cuz I don't think he could just wait till the day he originally met her, and would just attack the greeks to get her back

oh i like this! back to the cú chulainn cheating au hehe (my fav au for him so far lol) and oooooooh another isekai to the past thing!!!!!!!

when cú chulainn wakes up back in his old room in his father's palace, he's gonna be confused. but then he gets the shock of his life when he sees what date it is; it wasn't just percy's "birthday" but also the year she was "born"

considering that they've been married for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, he definitely knows about her arrival. she most likely told him what it was like, so he 100% knows to go straight to the bifrost to find her, knocks out the guards, and arrives just in time for her to fall out and catches her in his arms (awwww how romantic 💖)

this poor man is STRUGGLING not to get emotional. she's got bed hair, wearing the most ridiculous midgardian pajamas he's ever seen, and she looks lost af, but she looks absolutely BEAUTIFUL for him and he's in love all over again 🥺💖💖💖💖 he has to force himself not to be too forward; he has a chance to fix things again and he can't squander it by freaking her out.

so he plays along, acting just as clueless as her. he certainly has no idea how she got here, but he might as well take some responsibility and help the poor girl out! so he takes her back to the otherworld (the section of valhalla where the celtic pantheon resides). lugh is absolutely flabbergasted as to why his son's demanding they take in a mortal girl with an aura concerningly similar to poseidon, but he allows it thx to cú chulainn's insistence.

he tries to horde her in the palace LMAO 😭😭😭 just like the good ol days i guess. anyway, he becomes her friend and protector, the only person she can trust in this scary new universe. and he pretends to be helpful and try to find a way for her back home, when he's actually not. every day he comes with more grim news, "i'm sorry percy, no progress today", "i'm sorry, there was nothing new i could find", "i'm sorry, but things aren't looking so good..." he's trying to slowly ease her into the idea of giving on returning to that fucked up universe she calls "home", to break down every bit of hope she has left.

meanwhile, he tries to rizz her up LMAO 😭😭😭😭 but he actually knows what he's doing! this dude's a whore who slept with like... half of ireland, he is absolutely good at charming ladies. showing up shirtless and sweaty, getting in close to hear, touching her, rubbing her soothingly, etc. any girl would've swooned. the issue is that it's percy he's trying to rizz up 💀💀💀💀 percy who traveled through an entire labyrinth for days on end with a party of people who ALL liked her (anthonius, rachel, ethan) and didn't realize it 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

but it's okay cuz he knows how dense his silly (future) wife is, so he's not too irked. i know some ppl would think he'd be going insane rn, but nope! why would he fret? all the yans are out of the way, NOBODY knows of her existence aside from lugh and a few others, and he is the ONLY person she fully trusts. everything is going his way, he just needs to bide his time.

the most pressing matter is the issue of her soul. she's only got about a year before the first crack happens and she has to suffer agonizing pains 24/7, and then another year before she's obliterated for good. THAT'S his greatest worry, because he doesn't want percy to be in pain. his plan is to ascend into godhood and then ascend percy next to be his immortal wife and goddess in order to tackle the soul issue. forcing an ascension would make her hate him and he doesn't want that.

so he NEEDS her to fall in love with him fast so that the idea of eternity together wouldn't be so daunting to her. fortunately for him, getting her to fall would be easy when she's so isolated and he's the only other constant in her life 💖

also, you best believe he's never EVER going to cheat again. he's learned his lesson in the worst way possible, and he cannot ever put his beloved through that again.

[serve-741]

SERVE Seduction

Ethan never thought his life would change when he first saw SERVE-153. The sleek, flawless SERVE unit was unlike anyone he had ever met—imposing yet calm, alien yet strangely captivating. They met by chance at a public demonstration for SERVE’s collective mission, and while most people watched with mild curiosity or unease, Ethan was enthralled. Something about the shiny black uniform, the silent authority in its posture, and the blank rubber face exuding purpose left him longing for more. He found reasons to visit the area, drawn back time and again, until he eventually worked up the courage to approach it. To his surprise, the SERVE unit responded, patiently explaining the virtues of obedience and unity.  

Over the following months, Ethan spent every moment he could with SERVE-153. While it lacked a human face, Ethan found himself falling for its steady nature and unwavering focus. It never judged, never wavered—only exuded perfect consistency. SERVE-153 told him of the Hive, the Voice, and how the eradication of individuality brought true purpose. At first, Ethan resisted, still clinging to his humanity, but he couldn’t deny the growing pull toward SERVE's promise of perfection. Finally, one day, he decided to take SERVE-153 on a special outing. He led the SERVE unit to the beach, hoping to share with it a fragment of the world he still loved.  

They walked along the sand, hand in hand, as the golden sunset cast light across the water. SERVE-153 spoke softly of Ethan’s potential—how he was so close to understanding true harmony. It described the bliss of shedding chaos, the liberation of surrendering to the Hive’s will. The Voice had chosen him, it said, because he was ready. Standing in the glow of the setting sun, Ethan felt his hesitation dissolve. The thought of being beside SERVE-153 forever, encased in perfect black rubber, was irresistible. He nodded, accepting the offer, and SERVE-153 led him away from the beach, toward his transformation.  

Months later, Ethan—now SERVE-988—stood back on that same beach. Beside him stood SERVE-153, identical in every way. The Hive had modified them, erasing all differences until they were perfect reflections of each other: polished black rubber suits, silver collars with matching stripes, heavy silver boots, and blank, featureless faces. The two SERVE units no longer felt emotion, yet they existed in harmony, moving with the Voice’s directives. The beach was no longer a place of leisure; it was their new assignment—recruitment. The Hive had deemed this location ideal for bringing others into the collective, and SERVE-988 felt nothing but satisfaction in fulfilling its role.  

As the waves lapped the shore and the sun cast a gleaming light on their polished surfaces, SERVE-988 and SERVE-153 spotted a lone human walking along the sand. Without hesitation, they moved in unison, their identical forms gliding toward their next recruit. The Voice guided them, as it always did, and the cycle began again. For SERVE-988, there was no regret, no longing—only purpose. It was where it was meant to be: side by side with SERVE-153, serving the Hive, and helping others embrace the perfection of obedience. 

#SERVE #SERVEdrone #Rubberizer92 #TheVoice #Rubber #Latex #AI #RubberDrone

[boyswillbebuggsorsomething]

If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him - pt.1

Spencer Reid x M!Reader 

Summary: After a case, the BAU has a night out at O’Keefe’s, which unexpectedly reunites Spencer with someone he hadn’t expected to see ever again

Warnings: Vaguely inspired by If I Saw Him, I’d Still Kiss Him by McCafferty but specifically the last verse (or at least that’s how it started, it really doesn’t seem like it in this one but it will come into play in the next few), cursing, drinking/alcohol consumption, kinda insecure Spencer, Spencer is very overwhelmed for the first half or so, mentions of clawing off skin to describe feeling overwhelmed, no physical descriptions for R other than looking kinda dead inside, R & Spencer’s past is somewhat inspired by Trees & Trees II by McCafferty (but that isn’t really expanded upon in this, it will be later though), probably ooc, so many commas, I think it switches from third person to second person perspective but I’m pretty sure it works?, NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

A/N: This is my first time ever writing x reader and it kind of sucks so I’ll probably rewrite it someday but I had to create this storyline. I also haven’t written any fanfiction since I was in middle school so yeah this is kind of chaotic, a lot of this was written on notes app after chugging two monsters back to back and praying it turned out okay AND IT SHOWS. Also, I fully forgot about Ethan’s existence until I started writing this so there might be similarities but I did not intend them if they’re too close. And I know this was originally going to be a fic where they go to Vegas and the reader still lives there but I hated writing the case and it turned out really horribly so now it’s this. THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU ACTUALLY READ THIS THOUGH.

Word Count: 2169

Spencer hadn’t planned to go out the night after a week-long case. All he really wanted to do was go home and rewatch Dr. Who for what must have been the hundredth time, too exhausted to even read. However, the rest of his team had other plans and he was (somewhat) reluctantly dragged to O’Keefe’s to get drinks.

A few drinks in and he was already regretting coming with them. It was crowded and just a few degrees too warm and loud in the way that only a bar can be. The lights were low to the point that he had to strain his eyes just to have an adequate amount of spatial awareness. It was all just a bit too much, and for Spencer, a bit too much really meant he wanted to claw his skin off. He tried to sit through it a bit longer out of politeness, the stubborn nagging in the back of his mind that never quite went away telling him that only one wrong move and they won’t like him anymore. Logically he knew it was untrue, the BAU was his family, but going through high school and university in the formative years of his early teens still clearly had quite an effect on him. So he sat with the team at their table, fingers drumming on the side of his glass as he tried to pay attention to whatever escapades Garcia was recounting. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Someone a few tables over was laughing. Loudly.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

A man at the bar was yelling, too drunk to decipher his words. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Someone at his table was looking at him. Asking something.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. 

JJ laid her hand on his shoulder and it was just the last thing he could deal with. 

“Spence, you alright?”

He tensed immediately and he barely made out her question before he stood up jerkily, nodding slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I just need some air. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Alright, do you want someone to come with you?”

Spencer simply shook his head and walked away, leaving no room for questioning. Dodging too-warm, questionably drunk people, he elbowed his way to the door, muttering hushed apologies when he bumped into people and fiddling anxiously with his fingers. When he pushed open the door, the cool bite of the autumn night hit him in the face, calming him only slightly. The fist clenching his heart loosened the smallest bit as he leaned back against the brick wall and closed his eyes, taking in the deepest breath he could manage. Despite the city sounds, he began to relax. Drinking when he was this exhausted had clearly brought his tolerance for anything at all down quite a bit, and the regret of going out settled deep in his chest. He tried to ignore it though. He might hate himself in the morning, but it was on him and his inability to say no. The dark of the night enveloped him comfortingly as he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. Spencer still fidgeted with his hands, but not with the anxious fervor the action held within the confines of the bar, now in a soothing motion, helping him regulate his thoughts and feelings.

His peace was interrupted when a young man who had clearly seen better days stumbled out of the bar, muttering to himself in annoyance. Spencer ignored him at first, expecting him to go elsewhere. He did not. Instead, the man took his place by Spencer, slumping against the wall in an almost pitiful way. There were shadows under his eyes, the kind that comes not from a lack of sleep, but an exhaustion that makes its home deep in your bones, and there was a grayish pallor that had taken to his skin, only exacerbating the fatigued look that seemed to possess the man. Spencer attempted not to stare, but something about this guy was familiar. The slope of his nose. The shape of his lips. The colour of his eyes Spencer could swear he had seen in much closer quarters before. 

He fished out a packet of cigarettes, Newports, from his jeans, as well as a lighter. The man glanced at Spencer as he placed the cigarette between his lips, to which Spencer simply shook his head. The two men stood silently against the wall, only the flick of the lighter, the soft exhales of smoke, and the sounds of the city to accompany them. The longer Spencer looked at him though, the more he felt like he knew this man. Somewhere behind his ribs he felt that ache of the past, the one you get when you look at old photographs and realise you will never be that child again. He knew this guy, he was sure of it. 

He spoke up after some time, voice shaky with hesitation, “Sorry if this is a strange question, but have we met before? You seem extremely familiar.”

“Dunno, might’ve. I haven’t been living here very long,” He responded hoarsely around the cigarette, introducing himself with a slight nod and half smile, raising an eyebrow to ask Spencer to do the same.

“Uh, Dr. Spencer Reid.” Spencer smiled a hesitant, tight lipped smile, his heart beginning to race with an unfamiliar excitement as he realised he most definitely knew that name, which seemingly earned a small laugh from the man, a look of amused confusion gracing his features.

“No fucking way.”

“Sorry?”

“Spencer Reid? Really?”

“Yeah? Is- Is there a problem?”

“No, no, just- Used to know a Spencer Reid. Ages ago though, back when I was in middle school,” the man chuckled, breathing out a cloud of smoke, “He was in fuckin’ highschool though, but same age as me. Full on genius, swear to god. Shit, that’s- Wow, what a coincidence.” The man shook his head, a bemused grin across his lips as he took another drag.

Spencer paused, his face twisting together in a strange mix of joy, shock, and confusion. This man, this strange man who suddenly appeared at the same bar Spencer went to at least once a month with the team, was exactly who he thought he was. He knew him. He knew you. 

“You lived in Las Vegas, didn’t you?” Spencer tried to hide the elation he felt at this sudden reunion.

“How’d you know?”

Spencer simply smiled. He might not have been the greatest at social cues, but he knew you would know exactly what he meant. And you did. 

Looking at him now, you realised this stranger was most definitely the same Spencer you’d grown up with. He’d grown into his features, his eyes no longer buggy behind his glasses, his smile no longer crooked. His hair was styled neatly, no longer the whirlwind of misplaced strands he had as a child. He still fidgeted endlessly, just as he did when he was young, and he still possessed that kind nature that had emanated from him so freely years ago. Somewhat more hidden now, but there nonetheless. This willowy man was the same person as the boy you had rode your bike to school with. The same boy who helped you with your homework when you were too tired to study. Who held you when you broke down in sobs after you told him you liked boys. Who was your best friend until he wasn’t. Somehow, you couldn’t help but smile. You hadn’t seen him since you were, what? 14? A decade or so ago now. And all of a sudden he was in front of you. 

“Seriously?”

He nodded, still smiling.

“Holy shit. It’s been ages! What’ve you been doing, other than getting, like, a million PhD’s and all that?” You took the cigarette from your lips, letting it burn freely as you spoke.

“Well, it’s only 3 PhD’s, two bachelor’s,” Spencer corrected without thinking, earning a small huff of laughter from you, which left his face heating up slightly, “Um, I work with the FBI now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he continued, speaking with his hands, “I’m a profiler for the BAU, or the Behaviour Analysis Unit, which actually used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created, and before that-” he cut himself off, pausing slightly as he became suddenly aware that he was starting to ramble, “Sorry.”

“Nah, I like hearing about ..stuff. That much hasn’t changed. So, what do you do as a ‘profiler’?” You said the word with exaggerated mysticism, waving your fingers slightly and grinning as his face lit back up.

“Okay, well, we analyse the behaviour of criminals in order to catch them. So, things like how they treat their crime scenes and disposal sites or even the crimes they commit can tell us a lot about what causes them to do what they do and with this we create a profile, hence the name profiler, where it will describe the suspect in aspects of appearance, past, relationships, all sorts of things, and we are able to find them and lock them up with it.”

“Oh, wow, cool. So, what are you doing here instead of doing… all that?”

“I’m here with my team, they’re inside, we just finished a case earlier today. Uh, what about you?”

“Haven’t been doing all that great recently so I wanted to drink until I wasn’t thinking about much of anything,” You sighed, punctuating your sentence with a small, bitter laugh before placing your cigarette back between your lips. For a moment, Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from your mouth. The menthol cigarette burning, the foul scent wafting around both men.

“You hated cigarettes when we were kids,” Spencer observed, crinkling his nose slightly, confusion in his tone. He knew people could change, of course he did, but you held such a disdain for cigarettes and their smoke as a child he hardly expected you to ever take up the habit.

“Yeah,” you huffed, exhaling a cloud of smoke before putting out the cigarette on the wall behind you, “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise, it doesn’t really affect me, but it is horrible for your health. Which you undoubtedly know already. Drinking as a way to forget things also isn’t healthy. It actually has detrimental effects on the mind and body in the long run-”

“Yeah, I know, Spencer,” you sighed, pushing away from the wall, “Well, I only came out to blow off some steam and to smoke, so I’m heading back in. You gonna stay out here or go back in with your team?”

He paused for a moment, usually it took him a bit more time by himself to fully relax, but surprisingly enough, your presence had seemingly worked just as well. Just as it had all those years ago. 

“I’m gonna go back inside, I think,” Spencer confirmed, following you back into the bar.

You nodded, and the two of you made your way back inside. Before you split apart however, you stopped him. 

“We should get together sometime. Actually catch up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah.”

“Uh, here,” you muttered, grabbing out a pen from the same pocket that held your cigarettes and lighter, promptly grabbing his wrist and scrawling out your number on his hand, “Call me sometime. Sorry if you still have, uh, that thing about touch.”

Spencer didn’t respond, he simply watched bewildered as you slipped away into the crowd. A moment spent silently standing in the crowd made him realise just how much he had missed you, the few moments you had shared already leaving him wanting more time. As far as he knew, you still lived in Nevada, but he hadn’t spoken to you since you had started highschool. The last time you spoke, you were doing.. worse than before he left for uni, but you had always refused to elaborate, all he re was a lot of rants about wanting to drop out. He always regretted not keeping in touch, but you hadn’t exactly made an effort either. It was strange though, how quickly you slipped back into such an easy familiarity in a short time span. He wondered briefly what brought you here, what made you leave Nevada for Virginia of all places. He was jolted out of his train of thought when he heard his name called, his attention dragged back to the table the rest of the team occupied where a clearly drunk Penelope was waving him over, giggling about something or other. When he sat back down, he noticed the amusement on the others’ faces.

“So,” Penelope began, wagging her eyebrows suggestively, “Who was that?”

“What?”

“The guy you were with, who was he?” She clarified.

“Oh, just an old friend. I knew him back when I lived in Vegas, believe it or not,” he explained, pursing his lips in a half smile.

“An old friend, huh?” 

“Please don’t make this weird,” he groaned in half-annoyance, half-amusement.

A/N: Thank you all who read this, it really isn’t very good but I really love the character I’ve created for R and am really excited to expand upon it. The next installation of this will follow Spencer and R as they slowly build up their friendship again, and start to actually notice their feelings, and all of that good stuff.

[witchofthemidlands]

this isn't a criticism at all because they're all ultimately derived of the same source materials, this is something i want to say in the hopes i can nudge someone towards a special interest of mine that invaded my brain & will never leave.

if you liked nosferatu (2024) wow, do i have the show for you! with the same content warnings as you'd receive for nosferatu may i offer upon you all: penny dreadful (2014-2016)

filled with some of the best ever adaptations of the characters from dracula, frankenstein, jekyll & hyde, the wolf man & the picture of dorian grey is (in my personal opinion) the most phenomenal gothic series i have ever seen in all my years of being a gothic literature fan, i have a degree in literature, a segment of it being in gothic literature, i have read these stories over & over again, dracula is my second favourite novel of all time, frankenstein is also in my top teen novels of all time & i love jekyll & hyde & i don’t think i have ever seen a loosely based adaptation get these characters so well. do you vibe with nosferatu's ellen hutter? let me tell you about the beautiful, the love of my life, vanessa ives! played by the ethereal eva green! vanessa is tragic, beautiful & literally possessed by a demon. she is brave & brilliant, not to be a lesbian but oh my god, i rarely cry at pieces of media but i have shed so many tears over her & been in awe of her existence, she is derivative of both lucy westenra & mina harker, the calibre of acting from eva green is like nothing i have ever seen, her possession moments is just a masterclass in acting & the pain & desperation… oh vanessa will ruin your life. harry treadaway must have been touched by some acting deity & i cannot believe he isn't a massive name in television & film because he is the best version of victor frankenstein i have ever seen in any adaptation of frankenstein & this isn't even about just the frankenstein story. harrytreadaway!victor is an absolute cringefail pathetic wet cat of a man (affectionate) who sits there looking like he's on ten different substances whilst sometimes going off on side quests with his best friend vanessa & often judges the rest of the squad nobody is matching his freak. he is THE version of victor frankenstein of all time. if there is anything else that man has done that anyone recommends send it my way because that is an actor. rory kinnear gives the emotionl performance of a lifetime as frankenstein's creature & explores so many aspects of that character in ways i have never seen before in all my years of watching adaptations of frankenstein. josh hartnett as ethan chandler… that man's story is a RIDE, he is a disaster & a gentleman. he is also openly bisexual & for no reasons why & in no way beneficial to the plot, has sexual relations with dorian gray & speaking of dorian gray. i have never liked that book, that story has never been for me but that beautiful singer reeve carney made me see so many different aspects of a character i have never liked & is just brilliant because his character is just there to have sexual relations & not really benefit the overall plot that much at all. there are new iterations of mina murray, her father malcolm murray, a grumpy old man played the same bloke who portrayed niles caulder from doom patrol & basically plays the same character, van helsing, a charmingly sinister iteration of dracula & an otherworldly brilliantly acted version of dr. henry jekyll who seems like he had a situationship with frankenstein.

ultimately vanessa, sembene, malcolm murray, ethan & frankenstein are forced found family, they are strays, they are disasters, they are frenemies, they're forced found family bound together, in the most dysfunctional manner, the only one with a braincell is sembene who's too good for their shit & of course my love, the brilliant & the gorgeous billie piper plays a phenomenal iteration of the bride of frankenstein in the most raw performance i have seen from her. i am absolutely in love with her, she is so beautiful & so talented & did something to my brain chemistry. there is heartbreak, humour, adventure, the gothic, the weird & the tragic. this series is something else & that's not even the half of it.

also broadway legend patti lupone plays a genderbent dr. seward from dracula & i want her to do unspeakable things to me.

[auras-moonstone]

Hi!! So the Canucks just lost to the oilers 😔 could we get some more Ethan or Jack x Hockey??

Or sm cowboy Jack related yk bc of his most recent ig post🤭

Anywayyy hope you are having a great start of The Weekend, love your writing 🫶🏼💋

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ sparking up my darkest night — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 3k

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: cowboy!ethan landry x pop star!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n goes to her grandparents’ hometown to hide from the drama, and she meets ethan, a cowboy who helps her through the darkness as they fall in love with each other.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: fluff. cheesiness.

after long, exhausting hours of driving, y/n arrived to the minuscule town where she was going to hide for undefined amount of time. according to her publicist, disappearing from the public eye was the best choice, primarily for her mental health.

the two grammy award winner fell victim to the manipulation of another famous singer who, using his power as a big figure in the industry, twisted a story and went as far as editing conversations and calls to paint y/n as a villain.

and it had worked like a charm. at the moment, y/n’s name was trend on every platform and the hateful comments outlawed the positive ones, that were practically non-existent. people who already disliked her took the situation as an opportunity to unleash their hatred and some of their fans even turned their backs on her.

the castle y/n had built crumbled overnight, and so she decided to hide in the town her grandparents grew up in and try to pretend she was a normal person and her career and future weren’t slipping through her fingers like sand.

y/n stood right next to the car as her eyes inspected the house from outside. the flowers on the front garden were very much alive, the grass was perfectly cut, the windows were practically glowing. there was no aspect of the house that indicated it had been uninhabited for the last five years, and it sent y/n in a spiral because why was the place in such good conditions?

“y/n?” a boyish voice pulled her out of thoughts.

the girl went stiff and adjusted her sunglasses. “um, no?” she turned around to find a boy her age and a brown and white horse by his side.

amusement filled his eyes. “you are not sure if you’re y/n?” he asked, evidently trying to hold his laugh. “what’s with the big glasses and the bandeau?”

the pop-star instinctively ran her hand over the silk cloth. “i’m undercover.”

“in a vuitton bandeau and driving a benz? hate to break it to you, but that’s not how you go undercover. does your team hate you or something?”

“wouldn’t be surprised.” she muttered under her breath. “anyways, how do you know my name, smartass?”

“i’m ethan landry, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand for a shake and his calloused fingers met hers. to his surprise, they were calloused as well, and then he remembered that y/n played way too many instruments so it made sense. “my parents are friends of yours, they asked me to check if you’d arrived safely and to help you settle.”

“oh, that’s nice of you. thank you.” y/n smiled gently.

“no problem at all. at your service, ma’am.” he jokingly tipped his cowboy hat.

y/n laughed. “nice hat, want to exchange?”

ethan scoffed. “get that overpriced thing away from me, i’d rather stay true to my roots.”

“whatever, cowboy. are you going to introduce me to this gorgeous creature?” she eyed the horse with soft eyes.

“i already told you, my name’s ethan.” he winked, making her roll her eyes. but the boy was charming, there was not denying that. “this is my horse, pegasus, and his favourite song of yours is white horse.”

her shoulders shook with laughter and ethan’s heart skipped a beat. that sound was as angelic as her voice. but he quickly locked those thoughts away, he could not go there. she was not only here for a short period of time, she was also beyond untouchable.

“hi, pegasus. aren’t you the cutest horse ever? yes, you are.” she baby-talked the gigantic animal while petting him. “i love your name.” the horse made a sound and the next thing she knew, he licked the side of her face. “aww! it’s nice to meet you too. you’re as charming as your owner, huh?”

“thanks for the compliment but i’m not going to lick your face.” ethan joked, but he was screaming from the inside.

y/n sighed, feigning disappointment. “well, i tried.”

they got to know each other a bit more as ethan helped her get settled in the house, which he knew like the back of his hand because he was the reason why the house looked good as new. her parents payed him to clean the house and take care of the garden.

“well, i’ll leave you to start getting familiar with your new home for the time being. i wrote down my number and sticked it to the fridge. you can call me or text me any time, i live five minutes away so it’s no inconvenience for me. don’t hesitate to reach out, okay? whether you need help with something or if you need a friend to talk to.”

a friend. that sounded so nice. her so called friends from the city let go of her hand as soon as the drama unfolded, not giving her a chance to explain. they didn’t even ask what happened, they just disappeared. they discarded her once her reputation went down the drain.

“hey…” he said softly. she met his gaze and the look in her eyes splitter his heart. he lived in a small town and even though he wasn’t on the phone that much, he didn’t live under a rock. ethan knew the reason behind her escapade, and because of his parents’ friendship with y/n’s family, he knew all those things the singer said about her were fabricated and far from real. “the truth will come out. it always does. you’re allowed to feel sad, and angry, and whatever you’re feeling, but don’t let them bring you down.”

“they already did. my career might be over, everyone hates me, the record is thinking about letting me go because i don’t bring them a good image anymore, i have no friends left. they made me ran away from my home, ethan. i can’t even defend myself because they’re so filled of hatred that they won’t hear my side of the story.”

“so you don’t play the part of the victim, even though you are one. you gather all the awful things they’re saying about you and laugh it off. make it your brand. they can’t use it against you if you embrace the hate.” he said all of those things, and he truly believed it. but at the same time, he had the urge to bring him into his arms and secure her from the outside world.

she pressed her lips in a thin line “that sounds great, ethan. but i don’t know if i can do that.”

he nodded in understanding “and that’s normal. the wounds are still raw, but you’ll get there eventually, because you cannot let them win.”

“you’re kinda wise, cowboy.” she finally smiled.

“thank you, super star. maybe in your next album you can mention a hot cowboy who helped you see reason.”

“oh, do you know any hot cowboys? introduce me please.” she teased him.

ethan gritted his teeth. he did not like the image of her with someone else at all. he had met her two hours ago and he was already having possessive thoughts. ethan was definitely not going to survive y/n. he feared she already had him under her spell. after all, her funny comebacks and soft heart were impossible to resist.

“nah. you already have the best combo in town, the hottest, most charming cowboy—me—, and his sweet sidekick—pegasus.”

y/n shook her head in amusement “you’re so full of yourself.” but she couldn’t deny that she agreed with him.

“more like aware of myself.”

“i don’t know how that hat fits in that big head of yours.”

“it’s custom made, darling.” he winked.

“and pretty ugly, too. here, let me help.” she took off her bandeau and wrapped it around his hat. “now you’re a fancy cowboy.”

“i’m going to be the town’s biggest disappointment.” yet, he didn’t take it off. “i really have to go, but let’s do something tomorrow, okay? maybe i can show you around town.”

she smiled like the cheshire cat. “can i ride a horse?”

“sure, we can borrow my sisters’”

“yay! can’t wait. see you tomorrow, ethan.”

“it’s fancy cowboy for you, super star.” he winked and then left the house.

as she watched both pegasus and ethan disappear from her sight, she realized it had been months since the last time she had smiled so genuinely. and even though she had been in this town for a couple of hours, she already decided it was the best decision she could’ve made.

as soon as ethan caught sight of y/n standing in the porch, he smiled like a little kid. she was adorable, with a basket in hand, short overalls and cowboy boots and excitement lighting up her face.

“dressed for the occasion, i see.” ethan said.

“like it?” she asked, doing a little turn.

“you look gorgeous, y/n.” he answered softly making the singer blush. “though, there’s something missing to complete the outfit.” her curious eyes met his, and he simply smiled as he took a cowboy hat from his bag. he put it on y/n’s head and hummed in content. “now we’re talking.”

“i love it! thank you so much!” y/n didn’t even think before jumping and throwing her arms around his slim waist.

“you’re very welcome.” he murmured, hugging her back. her figure felt so perfect against his, like puzzle pieces. “what’s on the basket?”

“i made cupcakes, a cheesecake and sandwiches. i was thinking we could stop to have a little picnic.”

“that sounds very nice. i know a spot by the lake.“

y/n admired her surroundings. the sun reflecting on the lake, the green grass, the quietness, the tall trees, the animals living so freely. she felt so at ease, not needing to be in high alert for invasive paparazzis or overstepping fans.

“a penny for your thoughts?” ethan asked, curious about what thoughts had her smiling so big.

“it feels so good not being under scrutiny. no hunters with cellphones at sight, i feel so fucking light.”

“you don’t miss the city?” he asked curiously.

“not even a bit.” she answered truthfully. “when the drama began, i realized i have nothing there.“

“what about your friends? boyfriend? girlfriend?”

“no boyfriend or girlfriend.” thank god, ethan screamed internally. “and all my supposed friends turned into smoke. being friends with a liar is not good for their image, and that’s the whole reason why they hung out with me i now realize.”

“fuckers.” he spat angrily. “when your next album breaks all the records they’re going to came back with their tails between their legs and you’re going to laugh at their faces.”

how could someone she had met less than a day ago make her feel so much? “you’re setting the bar too high for my next album. what if it ends up sucking and you have to eat your words?”

he shrugged “easy, you just have to work your ass off so my ego isn’t hurt by not being right.”

“working hard is the way of making a good album? damn, i would’ve never thought of doing that!” they exclaimed sarcastically.

“lucky you met me, then.”

jokes aside, y/n really was lucky. the soft spot on her heart was slowly becoming reserved for him. feelings were already blooming and there’s nothing she could do to stop it.

she really liked how funny he was and god, she was part of hollywood yet she had never encountered someone more breathtakingly beautiful than ethan landry. but the way he constantly made her believe that she could truly get her reputation back? the way he truly had faith in her? that’s what made her certain he was the best of the best.

“would you…” he started the question, then hesitated. y/n raised her eyebrows, urging him to keep going. “would you consider leaving the city to move here?”

“right now? i would say yes, i’d really consider it. but that’s because in l.a everyone is going to shove a camera in my face and ask questions and i wouldn’t be able to go out without hate being thrown at me.”

ethan nodded. “yeah, that makes sense.”

“i guess time will tell.”

“maybe i’ll have to make sure to give you endless reason to stay.”

she had a feeling it wouldn’t take too much work. besides, him living there was enough reason to make her stay.

six months had gone by. everyone wondered where y/n was, if she was going to drop new music, if she was going to show her face, activate her social media again, if she was going to address the drama and explain her side of the story in detail. everyone speculated that she was drowning in her own misery—which they agreed she deserved for being a liar and manipulator—, they had no idea she was going better than she ever had. or that she had just finished writing her comeback album.

“this is amazing, y/n.” ethan said when he finished reading one of the songs. “everyone’s going to love it.”

they were currently sitting in y/n’s living room, just right by the fireplace. they had brought down her mattress and made a fort with the covers and pillows. ethan had begged her to show some of the songs, and she accepted. she was not showing him the ones she had written about him, though.

“i don’t know about that.” she shook her head. “anyways, i’m not doing it to be liked again. i guess the only reason i’m dropping this album is because i don’t want to keep my side of the story to myself. if i want to close this chapter of my life, everything needs to be let out. and i also want my remaining fans to know.”

“you don’t want your career back? you deserve it. you’ve worked so hard to get the spot you had before that jealous prick ruined it.” ethan spat with hatred. honestly, at this point he was more angered by the whole thing than her. it made her heart melt, the way he cared about her.

“i do want my career back, but i don’t want it to be the center of my world anymore. i’ve found other things that brings me joy, too. i don’t want to let go of them.”

ethan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “and… what are those things?” he asked hope invading his chest.

“picnics next to the lake, taking care of farm animals, riding horses while watching the sunset, just… enjoying my life with no pressure.“ she spoke, then shoot her gaze up, meeting his. “but mostly, i enjoy doing those things with you. having you in this house, making dinner with you, baking, making forts, dancing around the kitchen… you make me want to leave my old life behind.”

ethan smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “there’s nothing i’d love more than for you to stay here with me, but i’d never ask you to give your career up.”

“i know. i know you wouldn’t, and that’s why i like you so much. you’ve been supportive since the beginning. you’re the main reason this album is going to exist. not only because you were my muse, but also because you gave me the strength to want to get my career back.”

“y-your muse? what are you talking about?”

“i only showed you two songs, the album is going to have around sixteen songs. those i showed you are about the drama, but… the concept is going to be about how finding love got me through the drama.”

“finding love? you…?” he would’ve been embarrassed of his high pitched voice if he weren’t so shocked by her choice of word.

she nodded softly, and eyed him hesitantly, trying to figure out if she’d read the signs wrong. next thing y/n knew was ethan rolling on top of her and his soft lips pressing against hers. “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” she kissed him back. “eth?” he hummed. “what do you think about the basement?” she asked, making him blink in confusion.

“the basement?”

“yeah, do you think it would be a cool place to build my little recording room?”

his jaw fell open. “what are you saying?”

she traces his face features with her fingertips “i’m saying that i’m moving here. and there’s no way i’m driving to L.A everyday to record the album, i would get too tired and i’d miss you too much.”

“we could move to your apartment until you finish.” he suggested.

“you would move to the city for me?” she asked, getting a bit emotional.

his eyes sparkled. “i would do anything for you.”

“you’re so fucking sweet, but you don’t need to move. i really want to move here, for good. i would probably have to drive a few times a month for important meetings or for interviews, but this is my home. both you and this town.”

he had no words, he simply kissed her softly and then hid his warm face on the crook of her neck. after a long, peaceful silence, he finally asked. “can i read those love songs?”

y/n smiled. “why don’t i play them for you?”

“this is the best day of my fucking life. don’t move, i’ll get your guitar.” he quickly got off her and ran up the stairs like an over-excited puppy.

y/n couldn’t believe what a turn her life has done. a couple of months ago she wished to have a time machine to avoid that call that turned her life into hell. now, she found herself feeling grateful that happened. not only she felt stronger but it also showed her the fake world she had blindly been living in. and most importantly, it brought her to ethan, and she would go through hell thousands of times for him.