#you don’t understand how much he means to me and how much i love him

[moonstruckme]

hiiii mae if you’re up for it would you pretty please write spencer and intern reader when she gets hurt? holding her hand while she gets patched up or comforting her when she’s concussed or something of the like. i love your writing so much xoxoxo

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, concussion, vague mention of a murder case but it's really just background

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 946 words

“Look this way, please.” 

When you don’t move, Spencer gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “Hey. Can you look over there?” 

You turn your face from Spencer’s jacket, and the paramedic gives you a kind smile. She knows you weren’t ignoring her; you only hadn’t been paying attention. “Follow my finger,” she tells you. 

Spencer watches as you do, her pen light gliding over your bloody face. There are tear tracks diluting the red. 

Staying with witnesses is supposed to be a safe part of the job. That’s why Hotch assigned it to you. But when Morgan walked the handcuffed unsub through the station, one victim’s husband lost it completely, and when you got into his warpath he shoved you so hard Spencer heard your head knock against the precinct’s tile floor. Blood puddled around your left temple before anyone could even make it to you. 

You started crying nearly as soon as you woke up. It was more than understandable, given the blood all around you and the confusion you must have been feeling after a head injury like that, but what scared the team was when you wouldn’t stop. JJ tried talking to you, even Morgan softened his teasing and offered you a hug, but to everyone’s surprise all you wanted was Spencer. You calmed some once he sat down in front of you. Tears still dribbled from your chin, but you didn’t seem quite so distraught, and you let the paramedics look at you so long as Spencer stayed. Eventually he wound up in the back of an ambulance, an arm around your shoulders while you sniffled miserably into his windbreaker and a paramedic applied butterfly bandages to the cut on your head. 

Your eyes water as the paramedic clicks off her pen light and begins asking you questions. It takes a few moments for your gaze to settle on her. 

“It’s…it’s Wednesday.” You turn to Spencer. “Is it Wednesday?” 

His heart throbs at the vulnerability in your tone. “Focus on her,” he says, softening the directive with a stroke of his thumb over your shoulder. 

You turn back to the paramedic, answering her questions with varying degrees of uncertainty. Your fingers curl in the material of Spencer’s jacket. He has the urge to tuck your head underneath his chin. 

The paramedic informs you (or informs Spencer, really, you’re not paying much attention) that they’re going to take you to the hospital for a CT scan. They’ll let him ride there with you if he wants to. Spencer says yes without a thought. 

While she goes to pack up her supplies, he takes your fingers and unbunches them, warming your palm between his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks you. 

You make a soft, stymied sound, bringing the unhurt side of your head to Spencer’s shoulder for a rest. “I don’t like this.” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask which part you mean. He imagines none of it is pleasant. The light and sound of an ambulance in general has to be torment for your head. 

“Try closing your eyes,” he suggests. 

“I’m worried that will make me dizzier.” 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“Not really.” 

“Just try. It helped last time.” 

You sigh but do. You turn your head so your forehead is pressing into the bump of his shoulder, and Spencer reaches up to stop you before you can get close to rubbing against the bandages keeping your cut closed. 

Your voice is a watery consistency. “I really don’t feel right.” 

Spencer feels a painful tug in his middle. “I know. I’m sure it’s scary, but it won’t be forever. We’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t like this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Spencer?” 

“Hm?” 

“I really feel like I messed things up.” 

He has to remind himself not to move. In his surprise, his instinct is to pull back, to search your face for answers, but you’re pointed where he can’t see you with your voice trailing down his arm. 

“You didn’t. What makes you think that?” 

“It just…it feels like…” 

The words take a while to come. Spencer forces himself to set aside his curiosity. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to think about that right now. Just rest. You didn’t mess anything up.” 

“It feels like I’m…” you forge on, determined. “I’m always either not helping or in the way.” 

Again, Spencer’s first thought is to ask what you mean by that. But he doesn’t want to force you to overexercise your injured brain, so he tries to go along without elaboration. He fills in the gaps. 

“You’ve never been in the way,” he assures you, meaning it. “And you help us a lot. We wouldn’t be nearly as efficient without you, especially on this last case.” 

“I’m just an intern.” 

“Exactly. So it’s even more impressive how valuable you’ve been to our team.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments. Spencer starts rubbing slow circles into your shoulder with his thumb. Your forehead warms his arm through the jacket. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You’re always so nice.” 

“It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

“Are your eyes still closed?” 

A pause. “Were they supposed to be closed?” 

Spencer smiles at the top of your head. Even confused as you are, there’s a familiar note of inquisitiveness to your tone. Like all you ever really want is to be sure you’re doing the right thing. Spencer is warmed that you trust him to tell you what that is. 

“Try closing them.” 

“Oh. This is better, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.”

[soulsforsales]

I don’t think people understand the extent and effect of Jason Todd’s trauma. I mean, every time Jason goes “I died.” Everyone’s like “we know, Jason!”

But no. No, you don’t know. He died — in every sense of the word. His heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped giving out air. His body was taut, numb, paralyzed.

And the crowbar, the beating didn’t kill Jason Todd— the bomb did which means he laid down on that cold stone floor of the warehouse in a pool of his own blood and counted down the minutes to his death, quite literally and even in his last moments, beyond all logic, he was hoping that Dad will come, Dad will save him, Dad will be here. But Dad was too late.

And he was helpless and tired and bleeding when the shrill scream of the explosion cut through followed by that chilling silence. He must have felt the debris press into his already broken bones and skin and that’s when it must have hit him that it’s actually over. He’s dead and Dad couldn’t save him. So, he must have closed his eyes and waited for the peace that follows with being dead.

Because he was just a kid. Sixteen. Kids die and go to heaven, right? Well, even that was snatched away from Jason.

Because he was forced back to life— whether it was climbing out of your own fucking grave or the Lazarus pit— he was forced back into a life that was his no more because who he was, the kid, the Robin— he died and what came back was someone no one could identify.

He must’ve felt his heart beat frantically to push all that blood through his aching muscles, his lungs finally swallowing in air after being black and blue for god knows how long. He came back only to find out that the one person he loved most in the world didn’t think him worthy of being avenged. No matter how much Bruce suffered after Jason’s death— in my opinion— Jason’s anger is justified. Because he was JUST A KID. He was killed simply to spite Batman, he was killed as collateral damage. A KID- BEATEN BLOODY AND BRUISED FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO HELP HIS MOTHER FOR SIMPLY WANTING TO PROVE HE WAS GOOD.

Can you even imagine how many times he must’ve just wanted to stop? Can you imagine how much he wanted to just go home and have Alfred bake him cookies again? How much he wanted to hug Bruce and try forgiving, how much he wanted to call Dick “brother” again and just be his “little wing?”

It pains me to see how he’s treated— both fanon and canon.

Jason Todd isn't just the “angry Robin” or “the violent anti-hero with a grudge” he’s so much more.

He is a hero. And he died a hero. He died trying to save someone. He died hoping he saved someone.

I have said it before and I’ll say it again: he did NOT deserve that. But look how he took all the bad things that happened to him and only gave the world something better in return?

Yeah, that’s who Jason Todd is.

[bbokvhs]

𑣲 — mornings like this.

pairing : needy!felix x sleepy!reader ((afab))

synopsis : your boyfriend wakes up with a case of morning wood.

content : not really medically accurate but im not a doctor so idrc, breeding kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), dacryphilia, pet names for reader (sweetheart, angel, pretty girl), overstimulation

a/n : written at 2am running on 3 hours of sleep so it is possibly not as good as i would like it to be 😓. also, it may not be much to some of you, but tysm for the love on our dangerous secret!! it means a lot, especially since it was my first piece ♡ so here’s a small surprise from yours truly :D please let me know if i forgot content warnings! NOT PROOFREAD 🤕

( taglist + anon emojis )

your boyfriend’s phone softly buzzed in the bed next to him, his eyes blinking lazily as he awoke. he had to run errands for the day, and didn’t feel like getting shit from chris or minho for being a few minutes late like the last time — well, the last 4 times.

he sat up, hissing immediately at the stinging sensation flooding his body. he looked down, only to be met with the sight of his imprinted hard-on in his sweats.

"how convenient." he sighed, rubbing his eyes and trying his best not to move as to not agitate the problem.

minutes passed, his erection only growing worse. felix felt himself tremble, debating whether or not he wanted to do something about the situation. he could just go into the bathroom, fuck his fist, and go on with his day. but, another voice inside him told him he was craving you.

he looked over his shoulder, watching your limp, sleeping body softly breathe, your slumber looking as peaceful as ever. he didn’t want to interrupt your beauty sleep, but god, how bad he wanted you. how bad he needed you.

he gulped, worried about irritating you. waking you, and asking for sex the second you woke up? you’d think he was a creep, probably. but he couldn’t stop thinking about how bad he could show you his affection right now. he’d make you feel good, love you all over just the way you like in the bedroom. sure, you two loved having rough and sweaty sex every now and then, but you were mostly into sensually making love.

he shifted his body to face you, reaching his hand out, drawing semi-circles on your forearm with his thumb. he watched your body slightly jump from the action. he chuckled to himself, finally deciding to give into his thoughts.

he shook you lightly, watching your pretty eyes flicker open, smiling as soon as your gaze met him. you were going to attempt to say hi to your lover, but instead were met with something far more shocking.

"baby— baby, i know it might be a little much to ask at this hour, but could i please fuck you? i woke up and had a little morning surprise."

"felix—"

"please! please— oh my god, please. i would go into the bathroom or try to keep quiet next to you, but i couldn’t handle it. my cock aches just for you, always for you."

your eyes, now widened with shock, blink repeatedly as you try to understand his words. "i would, but isn’t is a little ear—"

felix interrupted your speaking, grabbing your hand and placing it on his erection. "please, i need you. 'm all yours. i’ll be so fast, i’ll do just the tip, anything you want."

you lay there, dumbfounded yet honestly turned on tremendously. was it everyday you got to see your boyfriend all needy and whiny for you? absolutely not. were you going to take advantage of this vulnerability? absolutely!

you smiled, basically signaling your boyfriend with your face that you would allow it. fuck you wish you had your camera open on your phone, because his reaction to this information was priceless. he was cheering and giggling to himself, very loudly of course.

your boyfriend got up from the bed, immediately pulling his sweatpants down and sliding them off his body, doing the same with his boxers. with his full hard-on on display, you couldn’t help but feel a bolt of excitement rush to your pussy.

"are you okay with no prep today? i can’t wait any longer, need it so bad." he whined, frowning.

"alright. just this once though, m’kay? it really hurts when you don’t help me."

he nodded, climbing onto the bed, removing his shirt on the way. he sat on his knees in front of your laying body, positioning your tank top over your tits, practically drooling at the scene. snapping out of his elusive state, he grabbed your shorts, along with your panties, and slid them down your body fully, excluding them across the room.

"so pretty." he groaned, mumbling a few words to himself before positioning you comfortably below him. "need you so bad. i hope you love me like i love you, want you forever."

he positioned his middle and ring finger atop your folds, rubbing up and down slowly as he used his other hand to stroke himself. "always ready for me, hm?"

your face was hot with embarrassment, yet you spoke not a word during the moment, not wanting to spoil your boyfriend’s fun.

he stopped abruptly, scooting closer and aligning his tip with your entrance. "so ready for me, i can already sense it." he spoke, looking down as he watched his insertion, your pussy basically engulfing his cock.

felix groaned loudly, cursing under his breath from the way you clenched around him.

"ohh, fuck! so amazing, ‘m not gonna last long in this pretty pussy."

you looked up at him, your face scrunched up from pleasure. he made eye contact with you as he began to move inside of you, slowly and gently.

he leaned down, his face buried in the crook of your neck, beginning to thrust at a slow stride. "sweetheart, dunno if i can make it with you, too gorgeous, so fucking beautiful."

you closed your legs around his back, making sure he was feeling the same sensation you were feeling inside. "fuck me, lix!— love you so much, so, so happy to have you."

felix obliged, beginning to quicken his pace. he lifted his head a bit to plant sweet kisses all around your jawline and collarbone. while his head was busy kissing up a storm on your face, his free hand was caressing your left tit, watching as your face had raw emotion pained all over.

"too-" he planted a final kiss on your neck, "gorgeous."

he slammed his cock into you even more, roughly changing his hand position from your chest to your clit, circling it with his small fingers.

your eyes tightly shut, trying your best to not overstimulate with sensations. "mm, love it when you touch me, baby." you lazily let out, your body slowly becoming more and more fucked-out.

"oh, yeah? love the way i can split you open with my huge cock. so fat and generous to my lovely girl, isn’t it?" he whispered in your ear, practically pounding your cunt at this point.

you turned into mush under his touch, not being able to verbally respond, reaching around his torso, squeezing him closer, grabbing a fist full of his long blonde locks.

he moaned into your ear, along with small inaudible praises.

"so much better than my hand," he hissed, "wanna use you everyday of my life. need you making a pretty mess all over your needy boyfriend’s cock." he hummed, biting his lip, feeling his abdomen begin to tighten. "fuck, angel. do you mind if i cum inside? need to watch it spill out of your breathtaking cunt. please."

"yes! anything for you— shit!" your head leaned back into the pillow forcefully, attempting to give your skull some comfort.

"hell yes. oh hell yes, baby," he bit his lip, lifting his head a final time to watch your face and body reactions to his techniques. "want my baby inside you? fucking— shit!" he exclaimed, watching your tits bounce in the rhythm of his cock thrusting into you.

"gonna fuck the lee bloodline into my angel, gonna give you a beautiful baby, only for my girl." he spoke between grunts, going as fast as he possibly could to try and please your aching pussy. "wanna get you big and pregnant to show my friends how much of a cum slut my princess is."

that line. the way he pronounced every word. the way he rambled on about getting you pregnant with his baby. it was too much for you, your cunt clearly trying to tell you something. you squeezed his back tighter than ever, feeling your pussy begin to squirt all over your boyfriend’s dick.

felix noticed immediately, looking down then back up at you, smiling through his physical exhaustion. "so fucking stunning."

you moaned out his name countless times, beginning to sob your eyes out in front of him. felix lifted his head to wipe your tears, only to see your fucked out crying face terribly attractive.

"here’s your baby, oh fuck! baby’s on the way, my love. can’t wait to watch my cum spill out of you." he spoke hastily, his high approaching rapidly.

he grabbed onto your hips, pulling you closer and kissing your lips harshly as his seed spilled into your walls. you groaned into the kiss, the warm notion of his cum making you want to pass out.

felix thrusted his last few lazy shots before pulling out, kissing your sweaty forehead, removing the greased down strands to the sides of your face. "so good, love. you did so good."

he quickly remembered his words and rushed to position himself for a view of your pussy, watching his release ooze out of you, slowly spilling onto the bedding. he bit his lip, wiping some of the excess up with his fingers and reaching them up to your mouth.

"wanna taste me, baby?"

you immediately nodded, sucking the cum off his fingers sloppily, like a dog lapping up a large bowl of water on a hot day.

"that’s my girl." he smiled brightly. "now let’s go take a nice bath, yeah? that sound nice? we can soak and get ready to start our day."

you smiled back, watching your boyfriend disappear into the bathroom, the faint sound of the faucet running filling the empty atmosphere.

what a great start to a day, right?

© bbokvhs — please do not redistribute my work anywhere it’s greatly appreciated <3

[starryhyuck]

green gables. (m) — PREVIEW

pairing: e2l!jaemin x afab!reader

words: 22.9k+

summary: your search for a family lands you at green gables, where you learn to adapt to the new challenges that come your way.

genre: fluff, angst, smut

warnings: takes place in the late 19th century, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, bigdick!jaemin, creampies, fingering

release date: march 26, 2025

inspired by anne of green gables, anne of avonlea, anne of green gables (1985), anne of avonlea (1987), anne with an e

this fic is already released for early access to the $5 tier on my patreon, which you can access here!

“You have to be the one. There’s no way I’m getting in that boat!”

“You’re such a coward, Soeun.”

“Then why don’t you try it, Sookyung?”

“You’re all ruining the vision,” you scold, gripping a handful of daisies. “We’re supposed to be girls who have been widowed by our one true love. We’ve succumbed to our tragedy, accepting our fate by floating out into the river, where the Earth will decide how to dispose of our bodies.”

Ever since Soeun’s uncle passed away shortly after the new year and the poem you’re reading for your book club discusses the fate of a widowed bride, you’ve all become obsessed with glamorizing death. In the poem, the girl sealed her devastating fate by climbing into a boat, holding a bouquet of flowers, and drifting away into the night. She was never heard from or seen again.

The girls insisted on recreating the moment, leading you to the lake. Hyojung borrowed a small canoe from her father and Sookyung picked the flowers from her mother’s yard. However, once you got to the final step, all of them chickened out of actually playing the role of the widow.

“I’ll be her,” you proclaim, and they exhale in relief. “But you must say the lines, and with fervor. It’s only right that we recreate the scene exactly. Wait for me at the other side of the river.”

With help from Hyojung, you step into the canoe, laying down as you rest your hands over your chest. You close your eyes when Soeun begins the rehearsed dialogue.

“Sister, farewell forever,” she murmurs, throwing dried flower petals over your form.

“Farewell, sweet sister.”

“And she lay as though she smiled,” Hyojung finishes, giving a small push to the canoe.

You start floating down the river, exactly like the poem describes. You marvel at the solitude, listening to the birds chirping in your ear. It’s all straight out of a novel if you’ve ever read it, but it’s abruptly disrupted by a stream of water soaking your dress.

You shriek, eyes popping wide open as you sit up. Water continues to fill the boat, progressing fast enough where you understand you won’t possibly make it to the other side. As you come up to the nearby bridge, you quickly grasp the foothold, holding onto it tightly as the canoe sinks.

You hear the girls begin to scream loudly when they don’t see you return. You ponder on if they’ll get help and save you from this uncomfortable experience, but another boat slowly comes up beside you.

Na Jaemin says your name with amusement. “I must say, I did not expect to find you here on my Sunday afternoon.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you going to just sit there or help me like a gentleman?”

He laughs before extending his hand. You take it gratefully, stepping into his boat. You sit across from him, drenched from head to toe. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t utter a single word to him.

“So you’re not going to explain-”

“No,” you gruffly reply. “But I am very much obliged to you.”

He sighs. “I don’t want you to feel obliged to me. Can’t we be friends already? You know I was only joking with you on your first day. I didn’t mean to mock you by calling you a princess, even if I think you look exactly like one. Let’s forgive and forget, please.”

You stare at his hopeful countenance, remembering how kind he was to you over the holidays. You also craved his cookies for weeks after, resisting the urge to walk over to his house and ask for another batch.

“Fine. Friends. And friends only.”

He beams at you, grinning widely. He begins to row the boat back to shore, and you avoid his inquisitive gaze. The girls are in hysterics when you arrive, pulling you out and hugging you tightly.

“We thought you had drowned and died,” Hyojung sobs into your shoulder. “It wasn’t romantic at all! Nothing like the poem.”

You assure them with gentle pats, and Jaemin anchors the boat to the dock. Soeun perks up when she sees him.

“Oh Jaemin, were you the one who saved her? A true knight in shining armor, indeed!”

He nods. “I’m happy to help.” The girls move to take you away and leave Jaemin and Soeun on their own, but he clears his throat to stop you. He addresses you by calling your name before questioning, “B-Before you go, I wanted to ask if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day.”

Hyojung and Sookyung’s jaws drop while Soeun acts as if someone just stabbed her in the back.

You stutter. “I- That’s- I’m not-”

“She’s going to my Aunt Nayoung’s annual Valentine’s party. You should come too, Jaemin. It’s at her big mansion in the city,” Hyojung invites.

You shoot her a bewildered look while he replies, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t be imposing?”

“Of course not. She would be happy to have you.”

He smirks. “Perfect. I’ll be there. Now if you ladies don’t mind, I have to get back to fishing.”

When he drifts away in his boat, Soeun stomps away from you, grumbling to herself. Sookyung throws you an apologetic look before following after her. You pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“What was that?” You bark at your best friend. “How dare he ask me that in front of everyone like- like-”

“Like he likes you?” Hyojung finishes.

You glare at her, still soaked from the lake. “No. And how could you invite him to your aunt’s party? You know I haven’t even asked Ilkyung if I can go yet.”

“She’ll let you, come on,” Hyojung insists as she helps you trudge back to Green Gables. “If not, I’ll have my mother convince her. Plus, how can you not see how head over heels Jaemin is for you? That boy looks at you constantly and Christmas? Don’t even get me started. His house is miles from here, there was no other reason for him to stop by than to see you.”

“I won’t let you go on any longer. I have never harbored any affection for Na Jaemin and I never will. Have you forgotten about my dreams, Hyojung? I don’t want to be the wife and mother. I want to write and teach and earn enough income so that Ilkyung and Ilnam can retire comfortably.”

“Silly girl,” she murmurs as she nudges you playfully. “You can have all of that and Na Jaemin too.”

want to read the rest of this fic now? access the $5 tier on my patreon here!

[dfstolenart]

Home With You | Criminal Minds

.・゜✭・. Spencer Reid x F!Reader .・゜✭・.

Summary: After a long and emotionally exhausting day, you come home feeling overwhelmed from the weight of your job but luckily your sweet loving boyfriend is there to comfort you.

A/N: so cuteeeee, love this one. Lmk your thots<33

BYR (B4 u Reid): sweet Spencer!, hard day at work, hints at abuse, child gets taken away, sad reader, sweet talk, flirting and feeling of not being enough. | kissing <— [warnings]

Your home was dimly lit when you entered the smell of a vanilla candle filled your nose, and your boyfriend was on the couch with a book on his lap

The weight of the day still pressing on your shoulders, you shut the door quietly behind you and drop your bag down with little care to where it lands

The exhaustion isn’t just physical, it sits in your bones heavy and aching, like the stories you’ve heard today, the ones you can’t unhear. The ones that make you question if you’re even making a difference.

You forget you’re standing in the middle of the entry way until a soft gentle voice pull you out “You’re late.”

He’s still sat on the couch only this time his eyes are on you scanning your face the way he does when he profiles a suspect “I know.” You murmur as you kick off your shoes “Didn’t expect to be.”

You make your way towards him, and he quickly closes his book moving it to the side of him “Come here.” He softly says as he pulls you onto his lap “tough day?”

The laugh that leaves you is hallow “That’s one way to put it.” Before you can say anything else Spencer’s hand is cupping your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones

His touch is grounding, pulling you back from the spiral you feel yourself slipping into.

“Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head “not yet”

He nods, understanding in his eyes “okay”

You rest your head on him, and grab his hands interlacing them together

For a while neither of you speak. The silence is comfortable, a stark contrast to the chaos in your mind. But Spencer is patient, he always is. He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. Eventually you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“There was a little boy today. Six years old. His mom.. she” your voice cracked “She wasn’t a monster, Spencer. She wasn’t some evil person, but she was sick, and he was the one paying for it.” You feel his arms tighten around you, and he presses a soft gentle kiss to the side of your head “I’m sorry” he murmurs

“I had to take him away. He cried the whole time for his mommy, telling me she didn’t mean it trying to convince me to take him back home.” Your eyes stung with tears and you squeeze them shut “I know I did the right thing, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

Spencer sighed, and squeezed your hand “Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself if I’ve done the right thing? If all of us at the BAU have? We don’t always get happy endings. Sometimes we don’t even get closure, But what keeps me going, what keeps us all going is knowing that we tried. That we did everything we could.”

You met his gaze, searching for something understanding, reassurance. And you find it.

His hand leaves yours to brush a tear from your cheek “That little boy… he might not understand now, but one day, he will. And because of you he’ll have a chance at something better.”

You let out a shaky breath

“I just feel like I’m suffocating sometimes, like no matter how much I do it’s never enough for these kids. I want to do more for them, i wish I could just take all their pain from them.”

Spencer pulled you in closer to him “you’re doing more than enough.” You close your eyes allowing yourself to believe him, even if it’s just for tonight.

“I love you” you whisper

“I love you too.” He says, holding you tighter, as if he could shield you from all the darkness in the world.

Spencer holds you against him for a long time, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your arm. His warmth, his presence, it’s enough to keep you tethered even when your mind still lingers on the weight of the day

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice lighter now, teasing “cuddling releases oxytocin, which reduces stress and promotes emotional bonding. So technically I am scientifically proven to be good for you.”

You both look at each other smiles both plastered on your faces “oh, is that so Dr. Reid?”

“Mhm” he hums clearly pleased with himself “Also prolonged physical affection can also lower blood pressure and improve someone’s overall mood. So, really, I’d be doing you a disservice if I let you go.”

Amusement flickered through your tired eyes “To me, that sounds like an excuse to keep me in your arms.”

He smirked “It’s science. Don’t argue against it.”

You shake your head rolling your eyes “I think you just like having me close.”

“I do” he admits easily, his voice dropping just slightly sending a shiver down your spine, his fingers continue to trail lightly up and down your arm “You’re warm, you smell good and well I’m very fond of you.”

“Fond of me?” You raised an eyebrow “You’re supposed to be utterly obsessed with me.”

He let out a small laugh “what if I say I’m completely, hopelessly in love with you? That I think about you every second we’re apart, and when you’re not in my arms, I wish you were.”

Your breath catches, your heart flutters you feel so special to hear these words come from the man in front of you “That's better.” you say

Spencer leans in, brushing his nose against yours before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. It's slow, lingering, and so sweet

Then he pulls back, you feel empty without his lips on yours “Then i’ll remind you every day for as long as I live.” your heart swelled

“You're really good at this whole comforting thing.” You smile as you rest your forehead against his, he grins “Well I do have an IQ of 18-”

“Shut up” you cut him off with a desperate kiss . . .

[lilybug-02]

Ngl Asriel is a bitch in the Chara timeline. I don’t mean this as offensive to you I’m talking about the character in general how bad it is character wise not writing wise (like how Jax is in TADC. He’s a bad guy but not a bad written character).

Asriel pisses me off so fucking much like bro I would’ve dumped his ass ages ago. First off he really doesn’t understand Chara because yeah he hasn’t gone through the shit they’ve gone through and on the soul entity topic. CHARA GREW UP BEING TAUGHT THAT THESE THINGS WERE GOOD- bro should’ve have a little understanding on why they would be a little bit upset.

Oh and let’s not talk about his reaction to when he found Kris like brother immediately thought Chara did something his best fucking friend and that pisses me off- IF HE THINKS THAT LOW OF HIS OWN FRIEND THEN HE SHOUDL FUCK OFF.

I am in no way criticizing you or your writing I love the Chara timeline but I the urge to punch that stupid “good boi” goat is so strong. Chara deserves so much better than him, I know even they have their flaws but Asriel is so much worse.

Damn! I have yet to read a comment so brutal! But I appreciate your insistence that it's not my writing (even though it may be at times lol) and I appreciate that very much. ❤️

Asriel's whoosy attitude IS intentional (and sometimes accidentally unintentional) in the comic. I started fleshing his character out more later in the comic bc I had focused so much on Chara's and Kris'.

I've drawn him to look more as a lovable cartoon goat-man, but he certainly has his faults. He butts heads with Chara a lot because both of them have very different ways of trying to solve solutions.

Asriel is hesitant, thoughtful, and/or a pushover. While Chara can be brash, spiteful, and/or assertive.

I tried my best to match their personalities to their Undertale ones (from my perspective, of course). Chara thinks killing themselves is a good plan, while Asriel goes along with the plan and backs out at the last second.

I make the two fight multiple times in the comic to illustrate their rough friendship. It's not perfect, just like in Undertale, but maybe in this Universe they can have time to develop it in a healthy way.

You are free to choose how you feel about it though!

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Sorry - Chapter 9

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Series Masterlist

“So, you’re just gonna sit in this room all day and wallow?” Dominique let out a groan and threw the covers over her head. “Sis, come on. You know I love you and  J.R and Tayvon love having you here but I think you should call Jon back” Desiree trailed off and Dominique pulled the covers off her head and glared at her older sister. 

“I’m not calling him,” Dominique said in a tone that she hoped came off as final. Why would she call Jon? He had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She was already feeling a type of way about the bitch at the club but she was willing to let that go and be with him. Then she found out he was with Trinity and if she was being completely honest, that stung a whole lot. THEN to find him at Trinity’s house and to learn that they kissed was the final nail in the coffin. Jon had hurt her beyond repair. 

“Dom, he’s been calling me for hours, He just wants to talk to you.” 

“I don’t wanna talk to him!” Dominique snapped. Tears of frustration and pain now falling down her face, she angrily wiped at them as she sat up in the bed and looked at her sister. “He made me look so fucking stupid Muffin. He deadass left our home to go be with her.., He never wanted me he’s always wanted her and now I’m not in the way anymore he’s free to go do what he wants.” Dominique cried, pulled her knees to her chest, and crying into them Desiree felt her heart break as she looked at her younger sister, She pushed herself off the wall and walked over to her, she climbed into bed with Dominique and pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into her shoulder. 

Talisua Fatu stared at her eldest son with disappointment etched on her face. “You kissed Trinity?” 

“She kissed me.” 

Talisua sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Why did you go over there in the first place? You and Dom argued and you just what?  Happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to go visit Trinity?” 

Jon stayed silent and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t know why he went to Trinity’s house… he just, wanted to vent, he didn’t expect Trinity to kiss him, he thought they had moved on from each other. 

“Ma’ I messed up. Bad. I know this, I just… I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“You probably can’t,” Talisua said as bluntly as possible. Jon lifted his gaze from the table to glare at her and she shrugged. “I’m sorry son, but you broke that woman’s heart. From what she told me, you made her feel unwanted and made her feel like Trinity would always be your top choice and I agree with her. You didn’t just kiss Trinity, you chose her.” 

“Ma..” Jon trailed off with a deep sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt Dom” 

“Maybe you did.” Jon opened his mouth to argue but his mother's glare stopped him. “She hurt you by basically rejecting the idea of marriage and you hurt her by showing her she’s not the only option for you.” 

“But she is!” Jon snapped standing up from his chair, not caring about how it fell over. “What I feel for Dominique is way stronger than what I felt for Trinity. 

“Then you show her that! You drive your ass down to Ensley and go show her how much she means to you!” 

Before Jon took the twelve-minute drive to Ensley he decided to visit Trinity. He needed her to know and understand that it was over between the two of them. He only wanted Dominique. 

Trinity opened her front door, looking surprised. “Jon? What—” she started, but he cut her off. 

“Coming here the other day was a mistake. And to be completely honest me being here now is probably gonna come back and bite me in the ass but, I need you to understand that there will never be anything between us... ever.” 

Trinity narrowed her eyes at him before scoffing and shutting the door in his face. Jon sighed then shrugged before turning on his heels was jogging back to his car. 

Jon pulled up in front of Dominique's sister’s house. His heart was beating profusely in his chest as he walked up to the front door and knocked. He was just about to walk away when the front door opened and Desiree stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I just wanna see her,”  Jon said before Desiree could say anything. “I know I fucked up. I know I did. But I need to apologize. I need her to know I want to be with her.” 

Desiree stood there for a long moment, staring at Jon, her arms still crossed. “Jon, she’s hurt. You made her look stupid, feel stupid. She’s humiliated, Jonathan. She had people in her comments all week calling her Trinity’s replacement, people in her DMs telling her they knew you were going to go back to Trinity. She’s humiliated.” 

Jon felt like shit. Absolute garbage. “Please,” Jon said, his voice now steady with quiet desperation, “I need to see her. I need to talk to her. I know it might not make a difference, but I need her to know how much I care. How much I love her. That I want only her. I can’t lose her, Desiree.”

Desiree’s eyes softened, She had watched Jon and Dom’s whole relationship and he had never shown that he wasn’t fully invested in Dominique. She knew how much Dominique meant to him, but she also knew how deeply her sister had been hurt. She sighed, glancing over her shoulder as if trying to gauge how her sister might react.

“Fine, but if she tells you to leave, you leave.”  Jon nodded understandably and followed Desiree into the house, shutting the door behind him. Jon was a bundle of nerves as he followed Desiree up the stairs. He didn’t even know what else he was going to say to Dominique besides sorry. 

Dominique looked up when the bedroom door opened. When Jon stepped inside, she immediately started to shake her head.

“Dom please -” 

“No. leave.” 

“No.” Jon stood his ground, staring at her. He wasn’t about to let her walk out of his life without fighting for her. “I fucked up.” He said, moving closer to her when she turned her back to him. “I love you Dominique, not the chick from the club and not Trinity.” 

Dominique scoffed and kept her back to him, looking out into her sister’s backyard. “I know I hurt you.” He continued. “You helped me turn my life around after WWE threatened to fire me after my DUI’s. You helped me build a better relationship with my kids.” 

“Yeah, I helped you,” she muttered, her voice quiet but laced with bitterness. “But I did that because I believed in you. I trusted you.”Jon took another step forward, his heart breaking at the distant coldness in her tone.

"I know, baby. I know you trusted me. And I destroyed that trust." His voice was thick with regret. “But I need you to know that when I say I love you… I’m not just saying it to make things right. I do love you. I always have.”

“Then why did you go to her, Jon?” Dominque asked, turning to face him. Jon’s heart broke at the tears he caused streaming down her face. “Why did you have to kiss her?” Her sentence broke off with a choked sob and all Jon wanted to do was rush over to her and pull her into his arms. 

“Because I’m stupid.” 

Dominique’s body trembled as she tried to hold back more tears, her heart feeling like it was being shredded with each word Jon spoke. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt was still too raw, too fresh for her to just let go of it.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. “You’re not stupid, Jon. You’re selfish. I understand that I could have been truthful about my stance on marriage but never have I once thought about running back to Dave or evening going to see him. But you - you chose her.” 

“I didn’t choose her Dominique. I just- I don’t know what I thought was going to happen but I would never choose her over you. I would never choose anybody over you.” 

”I loved you. And you threw that away without even thinking about what it would do to me.”

“Don’t say that.” Jonathan shook his head walking into Dominique’s personal space and grabbing her hands. She tried to fight him off but he wasn’t about to let her go. “You love me and I love you, and we’re going to get through this. I can’t change what I did,” Jon said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But I can tell you how much I regret it. I can tell you that I’ll spend every single day trying to make this right. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Dominique. And if you let me, I’ll show you that you’re the one I choose. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you.”

And now what? You expect me to just forgive you because you’re sorry? Because you say you love me?” she asked bitterly. “You left me for her. You kissed her. You chose her, Jon. Not once, but twice.”

“I didn’t choose her, Dom,” Jon said, his voice desperate. “I messed up, but it was never about choosing her. I was stupid, confused—selfish, but I never wanted to lose you. I just wanted to fix things, and I thought I could go back to her and get some clarity, but I was wrong. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I want. It’s always been you. Just let me make it up to you. Let me prove it to you.” 

“Let go of me.” She said and Jon immediately let go of her hands. Dominique took a deep breath and took a step back from Jon, creating space between him. “Get out.” 

“Wha- Baby. Please.” 

“Clarity? You went to her for clarity? The same women who drove you to drink in the first place? The same women who didn’t care if you had a good relationship with your kids or your family?” 

“I’m sorry.” Jon’s own tears were now flowing down his face. “I wish I could take it back.” 

“The fucked up thing is, all this started over me being apprehensive about getting married.”  Dominique scoffed and shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore, Jon. 

Gutted Jon nodded. He tucked his bottom lip into his teeth and started to back away from Dominique. He needed to get out of there fast, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. “Okay,” He whispered.  He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing he could say to undo this. Nothing he could do to take back the damage. His mistake had been too big, and Dominique’s trust in him had been shattered beyond repair.

Authors Note: Oh Damn... How do y'all think Jon is going to make it up to her??

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@fearlesschimera

[itsnesss]

I have a request 💖 sensei wolf x reader, she is his wife, and consoles him after his defeat against Johnny Lawrence

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | he's defeated, and you comfort him silently, reminding him that one loss doesn’t define him. you offer your love and support, assuring him you'll always be there, no matter what

warnings | reader!wife, emotional distress, vulnerability, implied past trauma, comforting touch, slight angst, kissing

word count | 1.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the fighters' screams, the crash of punches, all had ceased. Only the stillness remained, as if time itself had decided to stop. There he was, the man who had been an unstoppable force to many, now leaning on one of the training bars, head down, shoulders hunched, as if the weight of defeat was crushing him.

The man who had never known the meaning of surrender, the man who had taught you to fight not only with the body but also with the mind. But in that moment, all he seemed to have was a bitter defeat, marked by the punch of Johnny Lawrence, a man from the past who had resurfaced to teach him a lesson. A lesson that, whether deserved or not, had left him vulnerable. And that feeling of vulnerability was the last thing he accepted.

You could see how his gaze emptied. Sitting there, with his legs stretched out, he seemed smaller, more human, than what people usually saw. You, who knew him better than anyone, understood that behind that facade of strength, of the image of the invincible leader, was a constant battle. Not only against others but also against his own demons, the ones that never disappeared.

You approached him without making a sound. You didn’t need words, only your presence. You knew that the touch of your hands, the warmth of your body near his, would be more effective than any verbal comfort. You leaned in slightly, placing a hand on his shoulder. You didn’t say anything, but you could feel how his body slowly relaxed, as if your touch were an anchor in the middle of the internal storm that was pulling him away.

He didn’t look at you at first. His gaze stayed fixed on the ground, as if he couldn’t find the strength to face you, or maybe, out of pride, he didn’t want to show his vulnerability. You knew the weight of the defeat was heavy for him. He had invested so much in this fight, so much in that image of invincibility he had built over the years, and now it all felt like it was crumbling before his eyes.

Finally, he raised his head, and for the first time, his eyes met yours. His dark eyes, which always seemed to have an answer for everything, now were empty, lost. The look he gave you was that of a defeated man, someone who felt like he had failed not only in front of others but in front of himself.

“I’m sorry...,” he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “I should have never underestimated him.”

You shook your head softly, giving him a calm, almost imperceptible smile, but one filled with assurance. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, Feng.”

But he wasn’t convinced. You could see it, how his mind tried to find an excuse, a way to justify the defeat, how he saw himself as a man who had failed. In his mind, Johnny Lawrence was not just a rival, but a reminder of his own past, of his own vulnerability. His insecurity.

“Johnny is just an obstacle, a challenge. Just another fight. That’s all he is,” you said firmly, taking his hands in yours, which were cold from the tension building up.

He looked at you for a second, skeptical, and then, with a sigh, leaned back, resting his back against one of the dojo walls. “You don’t understand. I’ve always been the best, I’ve always led, but today… today I felt like I had taken a step back. Like my efforts didn’t mean anything.”

You moved a little closer, not taking your eyes off him, and sat next to him. The atmosphere between you both was charged, but what you felt wasn’t hopelessness, but a deep connection. You knew this moment was necessary, that he needed you to remind him of who he truly was, outside of the fight, outside of the dojo.

“It’s not the end of the world, you know?” you said softly, touching his face with one hand, caressing his cheek. “Everything you’ve done up until now, everything you’ve achieved, it doesn’t disappear because of one fight. You don’t define yourself by this defeat, or by the outcome of this match.”

The lament on his face didn’t disappear immediately, but something in his posture changed. You could see how his shoulders slowly relaxed. Despite his pride, despite his resistance, he trusted you, your words. He knew what you said was true.

“What truly matters is who you really are. What you’ve built in your life, the people who follow you, those who respect you. And me, I’ll always be by your side. No matter how many times you fall, Feng, I’ll be here. Always.”

With those words, you felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It wasn’t victory that he needed to hear, but the comfort of knowing that even in defeat, he wasn’t alone. You knew that for him, the fight never ended. And you also knew that, although today’s battle had been important, there was something much bigger than that: the future they could build together.

He looked at you intently, and for a moment, words weren’t necessary. Without saying anything more, he raised his hand and ran it through your hair, touching you gently, as if he were thankful for your support, for your patience. His gaze was deep, but calm. He was a man who had been touched by defeat, but at the same time, felt the strength of your love and understanding.

Then he hugged you, a deep and warm hug. There was no need for words. The simple fact of being there, together, was enough. And in that moment, he knew that no matter how many times he fell, or how the world saw him, he would always have your support, and that was more important than any victory.

“I need you,” he whispered, his voice barely a murmur, as if the vulnerability of that moment had stripped him of his armor.

“I’ll always be here,” you replied, hugging him tighter, clinging to him, to the peace that only he could give you. “No matter what happens, Feng. No matter what comes. We’ll get through it together.”

[michanvalentine]

Another thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is how some narrative threads introduced in Act 1 find their resolution in the good ending.

The first and most obvious one revolves around the beautiful concept of a gift.

When the player offers their blood to Astarion, he receives a gift that goes beyond mere nourishment. In that moment, what Tav/Durge is giving him, beyond blood, is understanding and trust.

And this concept comes full circle after the ritual, where this narrative thread finds its conclusion. That’s when Spawn Astarion thanks the player for the gift they have given him—gently guiding him by the hand toward a new path where he is truly free.

But not just free. As the vampire spawn himself says in that ending, he is honestly free. And for that gift, he is grateful.

I think that’s absolutely beautiful.

But the meaning runs even deeper than that. This ties into the theme of seeing and being seen—not in a superficial sense.

After all, Astarion’s appearance is both a curse and a shield, something he has learned to wield, just like his mannerisms, his charming words, and the sarcasm he uses as a distraction.

It’s an important concept because it means going beyond the surface, seeing him for who he truly is, feeling him, and experiencing him in his entirety.

Astarion deeply struggles with his condition—not just as a slave, but as a vampire. He’s so happy to be able to act human again thanks to the Illithid tadpole, to do simple, mundane things like crossing running water or entering a house without permission. And let’s not even talk about his joy at standing under the sunlight.

When you meet him on the beach for the first time and reveal what will happen if they don’t get rid of the Illithid tadpoles, Astarion’s bitter reaction, complete with laughter, shows just how much it truly weighs on him: "Of course it’s going to turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?!"

In fact, when his vampiric nature is revealed for the first time during the bite scene, he fears rejection and is quick to emphasize that he’s not some kind of monster. The morning after, when Shadowheart tactlessly points out this aspect of him, his expression changes, and we can see how being perceived as a monster wounds him. It keeps him at a distance, sets him apart as something other. Later, he will even say outright that he wants to be treated like a person—not as a slave, not as a vampire. Just a person. Not superior, not inferior. Exactly like everyone else. Because Astarion wants to be part of the world, to reconnect with people.

This is especially clear when he approves of Tav’s perspective—that he could find a place for himself in the world, where he could be accepted, supported, if he is willing to open up and do the same for others. He approves because the idea appeals to him—it makes him feel like he can belong. Not as a monster, but as a person finding his way back into the world he once inhabited.

But I’m digressing.

The mirror scene isn’t just there by chance—it’s narratively strategic. In that moment, Astarion explicitly asks the player what they see, because he wants to know how the world perceives him. He worries about how others see him precisely because he feels separate, othered, like a monster. And it’s not a matter of appearance—Astarion knows he’s gorgeous. He’s heard it thousands of times over the centuries. But he’s insecure about his place within the group, within society, within the world.

That’s why he appreciates it when Tav/Durge reassures him on the two things that trouble him most—his piercing gaze (the red eyes of a vampire) and his dangerous smile (the sharp fangs of a predator). He relaxes because, in that moment, he feels accepted. Because he realizes his defining traits aren’t the insurmountable barriers he thought they were. Because the person in front of him sees him—not through the lens of prejudice, but for who he really is.

This theme returns later, during the confrontation with Aurelia and Leon, when Astarion deflects the idea of being heroic by saying, "I can’t be what you see in me." Again, the motif of seeing, of looking deeper, of recognizing something more, of reading between the lines—both of the narrative and of his character.

And it’s beautiful when, the morning after the ritual, that relaxed, happy Astarion, with that wonderful smile on his lips, says that Tav/Durge saw something in him. Something different from everyone else. Something beyond his monstrous nature, beyond his darkest intentions, beyond his fear.

Tav/Durge saw him. Saw his potential.

And if you’re in a romantic relationship with him, in the graveyard scene, Astarion will bring up this idea once again. With a heroic Tav/Durge, Astarion feels safe. And he feels seen. Seen, for god’s sake. That’s huge.

This is where this narrative arc—about perception, about seeing him throughout the entire journey—finds its resolution. Astarion is truly more than what Cazador made him to be. He breaks free from the pattern of monster/vampire. He chooses to start living again. To rediscover himself. To reclaim his identity in the most human way possible—through the world and the people around him.

Perhaps his body has not regained its human traits, but spawn Astarion is, without a doubt, the Astarion who has reclaimed his humanity the most.

[elenasalvatore1]

I have to make a remark that I meant book!Ginny Weasley. And I meant bookHinny.

One of the most important thing is that Ginny a bit cruel in her jokes. She uses people's weaknesses to laugh and look good against their background, which is a very mean trait. Remember Ron. He really wanted to join the team. Ron is insecure, and Ginny knows it. What Ginny does is she trips up and makes fun of Ron in front of the team and calls him an idiot. It's very cruel. it is not the issue of the age. It is her age. She uses people's weaknesses to laugh and look good against their background, which is a very mean trait. Remember Ron. He really wanted to join the team. Ron is insecure, and Ginny knows it. What Ginny does is she trips up and makes fun of Ron in front of the team and calls him an idiot. It's very cruel. Ginny doesn't care about other people's emotions. Considering that she has no idea what Harry has been through, the fact that Harry is an introvert, the fact that she doesn't try to get to know him, is not Ginny's advantage as Harry's partner.

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione didn't approve of Fleur. Ginny pretended to be sick and was really insulted by the "cow" but she smiled than to Fleur’s face. It is hypocritical.

Second: I can’t agree with you in part that She doesn’t love Harry for his popularity. She loved him because he is a heroic friend. She uses a lot words for that «you was too busy to save world », « I like you so much because you can’t be happy if you don’t fight against V. », «she never gave up on him » and she asked Hermione how to get a guy, when she even didn’t talk to him. The statement that they spent a lot of time doesn’t work here as she started from crush, she used boys to attract his attention. So it has nothing with loving Harry. It is her idea to get a hero.

if you reread my « essay » you will notice Ginn’s selfishness. She always worries about Her worries, but she really does not care about Harry.

i like Harry so much as person, he deserves much more than such relations.

If you read more attentively you will notice, that I think that development for them as romantic couple should be at war. That is why « they grow up in romantic partner is not for them » that you mentioned. I suppose that their relationship could be the most fantastic example of true love. That is based on trust, acceptance, understanding, closeness that make people as the most important ones. And it is amazing.

in HP series there are other examples of friendship between male and female characters . Harmony will not spoil it.

Honestly, it's not important to me how predictable couples are. The main thing is how their relationship is developed. that is why I prefer Harmony with its depth and sense. By the way. and hinny are even more cliches. Hinny is a real Cinderella tale. Romione is a topic for a separate post, everyone in Romione will just be unhappy.

Hinny could be just a school romance but it isn’t connected with true love.

Ya'll really gonna come in here and tell me you love Harry Potter but you hate Hinny.

You're going to tell me to my face that you love Harry James Potter, a man who has been through so much. Lost his whole entire family., and you're going to deny him his greatest source of comfort.

Are you actually going to tell me that you think ferret face or someone who Harry has described as a sister to him is a better fit for him than someone who makes him happier than he can ever remember being.

He was willing to die happily just thinking about her kissing him. Literally his last dying thought but you're gonna come here and tell me that you hate true love.

Please.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Lose Yourself in Us (Part 4)

The realization doesn’t come all at once. It creeps in slowly, like a shadow stretching across the floor at sunset—something you try to ignore until it’s too big to look away from.

At first, you push the doctor’s warnings to the back of your mind. You tell yourself you’ll be fine. You have to be.

But then the symptoms start.

The exhaustion that clings to your bones no matter how much you rest. The dizziness that has you gripping the counter to stay upright. The tightness in your chest that makes it hard to breathe some nights.

You don’t tell Marshall. He’s already so distant, so angry. You can’t add to it.

But late at night, when he’s asleep beside you, his arm draped protectively over your growing belly, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the what ifs.

What if I don’t make it?

What if this baby grows up without a mother?

What if Marshall never forgives me?

One night, when the weight of it becomes too much, you get up quietly and sit at your desk in the dim light of the nursery. And you start to write.

The first letter is for Marshall.

You stare at the blank page for a long time before finally putting the pen to paper.

Marshall,

I don’t know how to start this because I don’t want to admit that I might not be around to say these things to you myself. But if you’re reading this, it means I didn’t get the chance to.

I need you to know that I never wanted to leave you. I never wanted to hurt you. I just couldn’t make myself walk away from this baby, from the life we created together. And I hope that someday, you’ll understand that.

You’re the strongest person I know, even if you don’t believe it. And I know this is going to break you. I just need you to promise me one thing—that you’ll keep going. That you won’t shut down, won’t let the anger eat you alive. This baby is going to need you. And you are going to be an amazing father, whether you believe it or not.

Please don’t let this make you bitter. Don’t let it turn you into someone you’re not. Love this baby enough for both of us. And when they’re old enough, tell them about me. Tell them how much I loved them before they even got here.

And don’t ever, ever think that I regret this. Because I don’t. Not for a second.

I love you. Always.

Yours forever,

[Your Name]

Your hands shake as you fold the letter, tucking it into an envelope and placing it in the top drawer of the dresser. And then you write another letter. And another.

One for your baby—words they might need to hear someday. A promise that, even if you can’t be there, your love never leaves.

More letters follow over the next few weeks. Letters for birthdays, for first days of school, for milestones you may never see.

It becomes part of your routine—your quiet, secret way of making sure that, even if the worst happens, your love won’t disappear.

And then, one evening, everything unravels.

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes, when you hear it.

A crash. The sound of something slamming against the wall.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you rush down the hall to the nursery, and when you get there, your breath catches in your chest.

Marshall is standing in the middle of the room, your letters scattered across the floor around him. One is crumpled in his fist, his whole body trembling.

His head snaps up when he sees you. His eyes are wild, burning with something between heartbreak and fury.

“What the fuck is this?” His voice is rough, strained.

Your stomach twists. “Marshall—”

“You—” He swallows hard, shaking his head as he gestures at the mess around him. “You wrote these? You—You’ve been sitting here, writing letters like you’re already dead?”

Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t look away. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t.” He steps forward, voice rising. “You’re just—You’re giving up! You’re acting like there’s no chance, like—” His voice cracks, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second before looking at you again. “You’re planning for a future where you’re not here, and I—” He shakes his head violently. “I can’t.”

“I’m not giving up.” Your voice is soft but firm. “I just… I need to be prepared. Just in case.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenched at his sides. “I can’t read this shit,” he mutters. “I can’t sit here and listen to you talk like you’re already gone. I can’t—”

His voice breaks completely, and suddenly, he’s sinking down onto the floor, his hands gripping his hair, his chest rising and falling too fast.

You move without thinking, kneeling beside him. “Marshall—”

“I don’t know how to do this.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t know how to live without you.”

Tears slip down your cheeks as you reach for his hands, pulling them away from his face. He lets you, his fingers curling around yours like he’s afraid to let go.

“I don’t want you to have to,” you whisper. “But if something happens, I need to know you’ll be okay.”

His breathing is uneven, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He looks at you like you’re slipping through his fingers, like he’s trying desperately to hold on.

And in that moment, you realize that no matter how much you try to prepare, no letter in the world could ever say what you really want to say.

So you just hold him. And for the first time in weeks, he holds you back.

[lambitious]

Baberoe Ficlet :)

Eugene Roe knew what he wanted. 

He was so certain in his desires that to speak them aloud was a frightful thing. He feared that he wanted too much. Wanted things that Edward Heffron could never possibly give him. And so he made a rule. He would only ever take what Heffron readily gave and no amount of Edward calling him “Genie” with such familiarity and fondness would change that.

“Heffron,” Eugene protested, his voice strained, “You’ve gotta stop,”

Babe paused and set down his mug of coffee, “Stop what,”

“Callin’ me that, “

“What, Genie?”

Gene would rather cease to exist than continue this conversation, “Yes,”

Babe frowned, “I didn’t realize…. I thought you liked it,”

“I do its just- It’s too much-”

“Too much? Too much what? Eugene, I don’t understand what you mean,”

Eugene dropped his head into his hands. It wasn’t the nickname that was the problem. It was simply the way in which Babe spoke his name.

When Babe said Gene he meant Gene.

“It’s too much! You sayin’ my name like that-”

“Like what? Gene?”

Gene was simply getting annoyed now, “Like that! Like I’m somethin’ you value! Like I’m somethin’ you care for. It’s about drivin’ me mad, Edward,"

Babe was staring, his jaw slack. Gene supposed it wasn’t often he raised his voice towards the ginger, but how else was he supposed to get through Babe’s thick skull. 

Gene, who had already dug himself into a pretty deep hole, decided to simply bury himself in it, “You got to top sayin’ my name like you love me because I won’t be able to handle it much longer,”

“What happens then?”

“What?”

Babe crossed the kitchen and got right in Gene’s face, “What happens, when you can’t handle it anymore, Genie?”

Gene inhaled sharply, “Might do somethin’ stupid,” His gaze flicked down to Babe’s lips.

“Like what, Genie?”

“Like kiss you,” Gene breathed before he could stop himself.

Babe paused a moment, his eyes scanning Genes face, “And what if, I wanted you to do something stupid?” 

Gene met Babe’s eye, all shy and hopeful, “Just gotta ask,”

“Please, Gene, “ 

“Please what, Babe,”

“Please kiss me, Gene, I want you to,”

And who was Gene to deny him.

[enhaflixer]

For our marriage law couple:

Q1. Did the readers' parents ever meet jay or their kid/s????

Q2. How did they find out about the pregnancy? Muggle ways or any magical ones????

Q3. How is jay during the pregnancy??

Thank you soooo much for the wonderful fics love you <3

Exclusive Interview with Park Jongseong & His Wife on Love, Parenthood, and a Certain Marriage Law

—A sit-down with the unexpected love story that defied the Ministry’s rules, featuring Jay Park, his wife, and a surprise mention of their daughter.

-

Q1: Did your parents ever meet Jay or Jane?

(You sigh, running a hand through your hair while Jay, sitting next to you, casually rests an arm along the back of your chair. His thumb absentmindedly brushes against your shoulder.)

You: “Not for a long time.”

Jay: nods slowly “Yeah, that was… complicated.”

You: “I didn’t expect them to reply when I texted them about the marriage. And they didn’t.”

Jay: quietly “For years.”

You: nods “It wasn’t until Jane was, what? Two?”

Jay: “Yeah, around then. I remember because we had just started thinking about putting her in a playgroup, and that’s when your parents reached out.”

You: “It was... tense.”

Jay: shrugs “I mean, I get it. They didn’t know me. And the whole ‘pureblood wizard married their daughter through some law they probably didn’t even understand’ thing? Not exactly the easiest thing to process.”

You: snorts “I think they barely tolerated the idea of magic in general, let alone their grandchild having it.”

Jay: grinning slightly “To be fair, Jane won them over before I did.”

You: softly “Yeah. They were distant at first, but then Jane did… I don’t know, something ridiculously adorable, and suddenly my mother was acting like she was the world’s most doting grandmother.”

Jay: smirks “She levitated a toy broomstick, and your dad nearly fainted.”

You: “He still thinks she’s telekinetic.”

Jay: shrugs “Let him believe that. If it helps him sleep at night.”

-

Q2: How did you find out you were pregnant? Muggle ways or magical ones?

Jay: groans dramatically, dragging a hand down his face “This is my villain origin story.”

You: laughing “Jay knew before I did.”

Jay: deadpan “Because your magic was acting up. And you kept getting dizzy.”

You: mocking “And your first thought was ‘pregnancy’?”

Jay: “And I was right.”

You: grinning “But I still needed proof, so after the healer confirmed it, I made Jay go buy a Muggle pregnancy test—”

Jay: glaring at you “There are way too many kinds of those things.”

You: mocking “Which one is the most accurate? I should just buy all of them—”

Jay: grumbling “Look, if I was going to do it, I was going to do it right.”

You: laughing “Anyway, I took the test, stared at the two pink lines, still trying to process, and then he just—” pauses, smiling at Jay “You just knelt in front of me, held my hand, and said, ‘It’s real, baby.’”

Jay: clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah.”

Q3: How was Jay during the pregnancy?

(You roll your eyes. Jay scoffs, shaking his head, because he already knows what you’re about to say.)

You: “A complete mess.”

Jay: offended “I was not a mess.”

You: flatly “Jay. You read twelve books on pregnancy, six on magical child development, and made a whole binder of research.”

Jay: muttering “...organization is key.”

You: “He wouldn’t let me carry anything heavier than a quill. And if I so much as sighed, he was at my side like, ‘Are you okay? Do you need water? Are you hungry? Should I get the healer?’”

Jay: grumbling “I was taking care of you.”

You: grinning “You were being dramatic.”

Jay: “And you loved it.”

You: softens “Yeah. I did.”

Jay: smirks “Told you.”

You: “You were also so soft. You would just randomly kiss my belly, whisper to Jane when you thought I was asleep. And you lived for when she kicked. The first time it happened, you completely froze.”

Jay: “Listen, feeling an actual human foot kick your hand from inside your wife is a lot to process.”

You: laughs “You were so in love already.”

Jay: quietly, brushing his fingers over your hand “Still am.”

-

Q4: Why Jane? Why that name?

Jay: scoffs “You act like this was some deep, symbolic decision. We were just tired of arguing.”

You: grinning “We fought for months over names.”

Jay: “Because you kept coming up with the worst ones.”

You: mocking “‘Jayden’ wasn’t that bad.”

Jay: horrified “I refuse to name my daughter after myself like some egotistical maniac.”

You: “Says the guy who wanted ‘Seraphina Aurelius Park.’”

Jay: shrugging “Sounds powerful.”

You: “Sounds like she should be ruling an empire.”

Jay: smirks “Maybe she will.”

You: laughing “Anyway, we were lying in bed one night, and I just said, ‘What about Jane?’ and he didn’t even argue. Just said, ‘Yeah. That’s it.’”

Jay: grinning “Because it fit. It was simple, classic. No unnecessary nonsense.”

You: mocking “So not Seraphina Aurelius Park?”

Jay: deadpan “I stand by my decision.”

-

And there you have it—proof that even a government-mandated marriage couldn’t stop love from finding its way in.

TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @ddolleri @somuchdard @beariegyu @ijustwannareadstuff20 @zzhengyu @annybah

[arxiwon]

Hi I have a request, could you write something based on this part from Kendrick lamar‘s Song „Pride“

„Me I wasn’t taught to share, but care. In another life I surely was there. Me I wasn’t taught to share, but I care, I care, I care“

In Another Life | pjs

Pairing: Jay × Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Break-Up AU

Warnings: Emotional distress, heartbreak, themes of love and loss, unresolved feelings, heavy angst, implied moving on.

Synopsis: Jay was never taught to share, but he was taught to care. And God, he cared about you—maybe too much, maybe not enough. When the distance between you grows wider, he convinces himself that time will fix it, that love alone will be enough to keep you by his side. But when you finally leave, Jay learns the harshest lesson of all: caring isn’t the same as holding on. And sometimes, letting go is the only thing left to do.

The first time Jay realizes he might have lost you, it isn’t dramatic. There’s no explosive argument, no doors slammed shut, no shattered glass on the floor. Just silence. A silence that stretches too long, settles too deeply, and makes itself at home in the space between you.

He wasn’t taught to share, but he cares. He cares in ways he doesn’t know how to articulate.

You had always been the one to give more. More patience, more understanding, more love. And Jay? Jay took. Not because he was selfish, but because he thought you’d always have more to give. That you’d always be there, waiting.

But now, as he watches you from across the room—your laughter softer, your gaze distant—he wonders when you stopped looking at him like he was your favorite thing in the world.

“Something on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head.

Jay hesitates. His first instinct is to say no. To brush it off, let the moment pass, let things stay easy the way they always have. But something about the way you’re looking at him now—like you already know the answer, like you’re waiting for him to slip up—makes him pause.

He swallows. “Are we okay?”

Your fingers still around your glass, and there it is again. That pause, that silence. It presses against his chest like a weight he doesn’t know how to carry.

“Do you want the truth?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Jay forces a small laugh. “Wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You exhale, setting your glass down with more care than necessary. “I don’t know.”

It’s not the answer he expected. Not the reassurance, not the soft words that make everything feel less heavy. Just three syllables, simple and honest, yet they cut through him like a dull blade.

Jay wasn’t taught to share—his emotions, his fears, his vulnerabilities. But he cares. And right now, caring feels a lot like drowning.

He wants to reach for you. To pull you close, press his forehead against yours, and tell you he’ll do better. That he doesn’t know how to be open the way you need him to be, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. That doesn’t mean he wants to lose you.

But he hesitates. And in that hesitation, he watches as you pull away first.

Because maybe, in another life, he was better at this. Maybe, in another life, he knew how to hold on before it was too late.

But in this one, he just watches you slip through his fingers.

And all he can do is care.

Jay doesn’t sleep that night.

He stares at the ceiling, the room thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The air feels colder, the bed emptier—even though you’re still here, just on the other side, facing away from him. He wonders if you’re awake, if your mind is running in circles like his is.

He wants to reach out. Just to feel you, to make sure you’re still within arm’s reach. But he doesn’t.

Because what if you don’t reach back?

Me, I wasn’t taught to share, but care.

He was never good with words. Never good at saying what he needed to say until it was too late. He thought love was something you showed, not something you had to say out loud. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe you needed to hear it. Maybe you needed something more than just his quiet presence beside you.

He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily. Tomorrow, he tells himself. He’ll talk to you tomorrow. He’ll figure out the right words, the right way to say them.

But when morning comes, you’re gone.

Not permanently—not yet. Your shoes are missing from the doorway, your coat gone from the rack. Your things are still here, but the absence of you still feels suffocating.

Jay sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand down his face. His chest feels tight, something sharp curling in his ribs.

He should call you. Or text. Something. But his hands stay still in his lap.

Me, I wasn’t taught to share, but I care.

Maybe if he says it enough, it’ll make up for everything else.

Maybe if he cares hard enough, you’ll come back.

—

But caring isn’t enough.

Because days pass. Then weeks. And though you don’t leave entirely, you drift further and further, slipping into a life that feels less and less like his.

Jay sees it in the way you stop lingering in the same space as him. How you don’t fill the silences anymore, how you don’t look at him with that quiet kind of warmth you used to.

And one day, he sees it in the way you smile at someone else.

It’s small—barely anything, just a passing moment. But he feels it like a punch to the gut.

Because he used to be the only one who could make you smile like that.

His hands curl into fists at his sides, jaw tight. He has no right to be angry. No right to feel this bitter, this hollow.

But God, he still cares. And it’s eating him alive.

—

The night you finally leave, Jay doesn’t say anything.

Not because he doesn’t want to—because he does. He wants to tell you to stay, wants to tell you that he’ll do better, that he’ll learn.

But he knows that if he really cares about you—if he truly, deeply loves you—then he won’t hold you back.

So he watches as you close the door behind you, as your footsteps fade down the hall.

And when the silence swallows him whole, Jay finally understands—

Caring was never enough.

And it never would be.

Jay tells himself he’ll be fine.

That time will fix the hollow feeling in his chest. That eventually, he’ll stop checking his phone, stop looking for you in every room, stop expecting to hear your voice in the silence.

But time moves forward, and nothing changes.

He still cares. And caring without having you feels worse than anything he’s ever known.

—

Somewhere along the way, he starts avoiding places where you might be. Not because he doesn’t want to see you—God, he does—but because he doesn’t know if he can handle it.

Because what if you look happy? What if you don’t look back at him?

But one night, he isn’t so lucky.

It happens in a quiet bar, the kind you both used to go to when you wanted to escape the weight of the world for a little while. Jay hadn’t planned on coming here, but his friends had dragged him out, insisting he needed to do something other than wallow in his own mind.

And that’s when he sees you.

You’re sitting by the window, bathed in soft light. Your head tilts back as you laugh at something, eyes crinkling at the corners. You look… good. Like the weight you carried with him is gone.

Like leaving was the right choice.

Jay doesn’t realize he’s gripping his glass too tightly until his knuckles turn white. He forces himself to breathe, to look away. But then your gaze lifts—just for a second.

And you see him.

It’s quick, barely anything, but he sees the way your smile falters just a little. The way your fingers twitch against the rim of your glass.

For a second, he wonders if you’ll come over. If you’ll say something, if you’ll let him hear your voice again.

But then, you turn back to your conversation.

And just like that, Jay realizes—this is what it feels like to be a ghost in someone else’s story.

—

Later that night, long after he’s left the bar, Jay finds himself staring at his phone.

There’s nothing stopping him from calling you. From typing out a message, telling you everything he never said when he had the chance.

But he knows it won’t change anything.

Because caring isn’t the same as holding on. And he lost that right a long time ago.

So he does the only thing he can.

He lets go.

And this time, he doesn’t look back.

[reidcutensshotch]

Skin S.R

Summary, Garica helps Spencer see there’s more than JJ he didn’t realize how much you cared for him because he’s been shutting everything out besides the future with him an JJ it was hard for him to see you even though you been there for him too .

Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Content: comfort/hurt

Content warnings: heartache , pinning for Spencer at the wrong time or is it at the wrong time , hurt comfort reader try’s to pull away vulnerability, unspoken truths , 

Word count 1k

Author notes: first fic on this account please be gentle please thank you . This song hits different for me . It fits him too .

Dividers : @saradika-graphics & @enchanthings-a

I wish you knew that even you . Can't get under my skin If I don't let you in.

Spencer sat at his desk, a pile of case files scattered across the surface. His mind, however, was not on the case. His thoughts lingered on her—the constant ache in his chest whenever JJ’s name came up. JJ. She was always there, bright and kind, and yet, Spencer couldn't seem to let go of the idea of being with her.

He knew, deep down, that he should move on. But it was hard. It always was with JJ. She had this way of being everything he needed, and at the same time, someone just out of reach. He had tried. He tried to convince himself that maybe there was a chance, that somehow, she'd see him the way he saw her. But he always came back to this: a cycle of hope, disappointment, and self-doubt.

Maybe it was the quiet comfort of her presence, the way JJ was there when the world seemed too much. And maybe that’s what kept him stuck. He couldn't help it, could he?

“Spence?” A voice broke through his thoughts. It was Garcia, walking into the bullpen with her usual cheerfulness.

“Hey, Garcia.” He forced a smile, trying to mask the heaviness he felt. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore, but he also knew Garcia could read him like a book.

“You’re still daydreaming a life with JJ, aren’t you?” she asked with a soft sigh.

Spencer rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know how to stop.”

I mean she told me she loved me …

Garcia leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. “Spence… you’ve been holding onto this for way too long. I get it, you love her. But sometimes, you’ve got to face the truth. Maybe it’s not meant to be, and that’s okay. You can’t keep living in this dream world where things turn out the way you want them to.”

He stared down at the case file, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was just too afraid to let go.

“Have you ever thought about...maybe...there’s someone else?” Garcia said softly.

Spencer blinked, glancing up at her with furrowed brows. "Someone else?"

Garcia's eyes flickered toward you—sitting at your desk, buried in paperwork but with a subtle softness about you, a quiet understanding that Spencer couldn’t deny.

You had always been there. The quiet, kind person who listened when he needed it most. You didn’t push him to talk, but when you did speak, it always had a way of making him feel seen. And yet, he’d never once allowed himself to see you in that way. Not like that.

Why hadn’t he noticed before? He caught his breath, feeling a strange pang in his chest.

Garcia’s voice brought him back to the present. “You know, not everything has to be so complicated, Spence. Sometimes, we overlook the people who are right in front of us, just because we’re too wrapped up in the idea of what could be. Maybe you should stop looking at what you think you want, and look at what’s really there.”

Spencer swallowed hard, her words lingering in his mind. Had he been so focused on the idea of JJ that he failed to see what was standing right in front of him?

He glanced at you again. This time, his gaze didn’t just linger—it searched for something. And as his eyes studied the way you worked so quietly, so effortlessly, there was a growing realization that maybe, just maybe, you were everything he needed.

But it was a thought he hadn’t allowed himself to entertain until now. How could he have been so blind?

A tight knot formed in his throat. Why didn’t I see it sooner?

You looked up then, your eyes catching his, and there was a softness in your gaze, like you knew exactly what was going on in his mind. Spencer quickly looked away, ashamed of himself.

How many times had you been there for him? How many times had you listened? And yet, he never once thought to see you like that.

Garcia’s voice was gentle as she spoke, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You deserve to be happy, Spence. But you can’t keep holding onto someone who doesn’t feel the same way. You deserve someone who sees you, who values you the way you’ve always wanted.”

He nodded, though the words seemed so much harder to grasp than they should have been. Maybe Garcia was right. Maybe he didn’t need JJ. Maybe what he needed was to stop looking so hard at the past and start seeing what was in front of him.

Spencer stood frozen, the words you had said to him swirling in his mind like a storm. He felt an overwhelming guilt, the kind that twisted his chest and made it hard to breathe. You had always been there, quietly supporting him, but he hadn’t been able to see it—he hadn’t been able to see you.

You watched him, your heart aching with the weight of everything left unspoken. The room felt suffocating, and the silence between you both was like a wall you didn’t know how to climb. You knew Spencer had been holding onto the idea of him and JJ for so long, and you understood it. You really did. But what hurt was the realization that, despite all this time, he hadn’t seen you the way you had hoped.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. This isn’t about you, you told yourself. You have to let him go. But it wasn’t easy. Nothing was ever easy when it came to Spencer Reid.

“Spence,” you started, your voice quieter than usual, “I know you’ve been holding onto this idea of you and JJ for a long time. I get it.” You felt the words hit you harder than you expected. The truth stung. “If you’re not ready to move on, I understand. But I’ve been here, in front of you, the whole time.”

You could feel your hands trembling slightly, a quiet sign of the nervousness and pain that was trying to break through. You clenched them together, trying to hold it in.

"Maybe I should take my own advice," you continued, letting out a shaky sigh. "Maybe I need to stop making up illusions in my head about us." You forced yourself to look away, not able to meet his eyes as your heart pounded in your chest. "It’s not healthy," you added, a weak laugh escaping you as you wiped your hand across your face, trying to keep it together.

You took another step back, your throat tight, but you knew this was the only way. “I know I’m not JJ. I know I’m just me.”

Spencer’s chest tightened, his heart beating louder in his ears as he watched you pull away. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, frozen in place, guilt flooding him. He had been so consumed by his feelings for JJ, but now, looking at you—really seeing you—he realized the distance between you two had been of his own making.

But then, as you turned to walk away, he felt a sudden panic grip him. His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and in a moment, he reached out, grabbing your arm gently to stop you from leaving. His touch was tentative, unsure, but there was something desperate in it too. Something that screamed he didn’t want to let you walk away, not without a chance to explain himself.

You froze, your heart racing, and the knot in your chest tightened. This is it, you thought. He’s going to tell me to go.

But when Spencer spoke, his voice was low and filled with a quiet remorse. “Please... don’t walk away.”

His words were almost lost in the heavy silence between you. He hadn’t realized it until this moment, but now, standing in front of you, he saw everything he had overlooked—how you’d always been there for him. How he had pushed you away, blind to what was right in front of him. The realization hit him like a freight train.

“I didn’t know how to... I didn’t know how to move on from the idea of JJ,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I thought if I held onto that, maybe I wouldn’t feel this... this emptiness.” His eyes locked onto yours, his expression vulnerable and raw. “But now I see... I see that I’ve been holding onto the wrong things.”

You turned to face him, your eyes brimming with emotion, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. It was as if time had paused, and everything that had been left unsaid was hanging between you.

Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible but filled with quiet strength. “Spence, I’m not asking for anything. I just wanted you to see me—really see me.” You took a deep breath. “I’m here, Spence. But if you can’t—if you’re not ready—then I have to step back.”

The words felt like they came from somewhere deep inside you, a place you hadn’t wanted to reach. But it was the only way to give him space, to give him the room to make his own decisions.

You took another step back, and Spencer felt something inside him crumble. He could hear the gentle hum of Garcia’s voice from across the room, watching from a distance, but it felt distant—almost irrelevant now. All he could think about was you.

Before you could move further, Spencer spoke again, his voice trembling. “I don’t want you to step back,” he said, more forcefully now, as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. “I... I’ve been so focused on the wrong things, and I’m sorry for that. I’ve been blind to what’s been right in front of me.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but there was a flicker of hope inside you. Maybe there’s something here. Maybe you had been wrong to think you’d need to give up on him entirely.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you met his gaze, “you don’t have to apologize. I’m just... I’m here. You don’t have to be alone in this.”

His hand reached out slowly, almost uncertain, but this time, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let him take your hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of the uncertainty. Spencer’s eyes were searching yours, his own feelings written plainly on his face. He didn’t know where this was going, but he was willing to find out. For the first time, Spencer felt like he wasn’t running from his own heart.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, softer now, but with more conviction. “And thank you... for being here.”

[miriammctroi]

How James made friends

This is a snippet of a fic / One Shot I started months ago and probably won't finish, (about James being obsessed with his parents' love story and determined to find a wife on his first day of hogwarts, he then spends years trying to woo Lily, while Regulus tries to get his attention in turn. Ending: Jegulus or Jegulily) but I really love the characterization of Sirius and Regulus in this, so I thought I'd share.

A few weeks later, James started Hogwarts. He was shaking with nerves and excitement when he got on the train. He wandered through the narrow way between compartments until he found an almost empty one. One boy around his age sat in there. He was scowling out of the window, arms crossed in front of his chest. He wore very fine clothing, not fit for a long train ride but for a family portrait or a Christmas party.

“Hey, can I sit here?” James asked, popping his head into the compartment.

The boy looked up, still scowling. He looked him up and down and shrugged. “Sure.” Then he turned back to the window.

“I’m James Potter,” James announced and held his hand out to him.

The boy peeled his eyes away from the people outside and looked at him and his hand. “Sirius Black,” he said and shakes his hand. Well, that explained it then. James has heard of the Black family. They were a very proud and old family, of course their son was dressed like that.

“What are you looking at out there?”

“My brother.” Sirius pointed outside to a group of similarly overdressed people, a tall, thin woman, a heavy-set man whose only memorable feature was his large moustache, and a small boy with black hair, looking much like Sirius, but thinner and timid. He was holding on to a book, pressing it to his chest with all his might.

“Are you sad to go without him? You look unhappy.”

Sirus shrugged, eyes still on his brother. The boy was looking right back. James wasn’t sure what emotion either of them was displaying.

Finally, a loud whistling noise signalled the departure of the Hogwarts Express. The boy outside raised his hand to a shy wave. Sirius waved back. The tall woman next to his brother reached out, grabbed the young boy’s wrist and pushed it down. Then she seized the book he was holding, ripping it from his little fingers. Sirius stood. The boy looked up at his mother, James couldn’t tell whether he was saying something, but for a moment, he was sure either of the brothers was about to cry.

The train set into motion. The family shifted out of view. Sirius sat down again. He took a deep breath and then looked at James.

He was rather handsome without the scowl on his face.

“James Potter, you said?” he asked, “That’s a pureblood family, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Sirius nodded. “Well, that means I am allowed to be friends with you. It also means, I don’t want to be your friend.”

“Oh,” James chewed on his lip, “What’s so bad about me being pureblood?”

“Nothing. It’s very good. It’s the elite, actually. Pureblood and Slytherins are the only people I’m allowed to converse with, my mother said. Well, she isn’t here. So, I have no desire to follow her instructions.”

This boy used a lot of big words. What a fascinating child. James didn’t understand him and his thinking at all. And suddenly, James realised he needed to be his friend.

“My family are all Gryffindor, not Slytherin.”

Sirius’ face lit up. “Oh, that’s bad! Absolutely horrific even! It’s settled: We shall be friends. I will be a Gryffindor, too, I presume. All my family are Slytherin. Not me, though. I will be a terrible disappointment to my parents.”

James frowned. Sirius didn’t make any sense at all. He was so happy they were friends now. He may be the first person James met, but he was already the most interesting person at this school, he knew it. “Why would you want to disappoint your parents?”

Sirius bit down on his lip, then let go of it and licked over it, squinting, as if he remembered a rule placed on him. Like when James wanted to touch his mum’s favourite vase but then remembered he wasn’t allowed and she put an alarm spell on it.

“As long as my mother loses her head about me, she won’t pay attention to the little one,” he said and then made that same face again.

“Your brother, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“When will he come to Hogwarts?”

“Next year. Now, stop. We are friends now, we shall talk about us not our families.”

James nodded. He thought of something to say, when the door to the compartment opened. A tall, thin boy with scars all over his face stood in front of them.

“Uhm, sorry, is there still space here?”

“Of course,” James said in a heartbeat. “I’m James Potter, this is Sirius Black.”

“Remus,” he said and sat down, “Lupin, if we need to introduce ourselves with our full names.”

“Lupin?” Sirius perked up, “That name is unfamiliar to me. You’re not a pureblood.”

“Uhm, no?”

“Brilliant! We’re friends now.”

Remus looked at him confused, then looked at James, who simply smiled at him. Remus must be as confused by Sirius as James, but he seemed to lack the fascination – for now.

Soon they were joined by a fourth boy, a nervous looking blond named Peter Pettigrew. Sirius quickly accepted him as a friend, too. Peter looked almost frightened by Sirius’ approach.

James had friends now. What a great achievement – all that before even reaching the school! Now that he had friends, he could concentrate on his next big goal: Finding his wife!

They reached Hogwarts castle. James could finally cast a look around the other students. He saw her when they were sorted.

Lily Evans.

She was definitely the prettiest girl among them. Though Marlene McKinnon with her long blond hair she kept pushing out of her face with increasing annoyance, was a close second.

Lily was sorted into Gryffindor after him. They were all together – James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Lily in one house! His luck was unfathomable! Marlene joined them too, happily accepting a hairtie from Lily. Then there was Mary MacDonald joining them, a quiet, black girl with colourful clips in her coily hair. She was also very pretty, prettier than Marlene, probably.

James quickly learned the most important things about his new friends:

Sirius loved to test people’s boundaries. The first time he was repremendet for misbehaving he seemed to brace himself for something bad, and then, when his punishment was simply sitting in a classroom for an hour, he laughed. He laughed every time he got a howler from his mum, which happened about once a week. He didn’t laugh when he got a letter from his brother. He didn’t share their content with his friends, but kept all of them tucked away in a journal he was always writing in. It reminded James of the one he saw with the brother at the platform.

Remus was shy. He sought validation from about everybody. A ‘goody-two-shoes’ as his dad would say. All of these things James found out in the first two weeks of knowing Remus and sharing a dorm with him and Sirius, who liked to rile him up. Then he found out, Remus was funny. He was a scheming bastard who loved pranks. His first victim? Sirius, after he pissed him off one too many times.

Then there was Peter. Peter was quiet. People forgot about him easily. But Peter was observant, and the perfect spy because people paid so little attention to him. He always knew all the gossip and had intel on the other houses. He knew a person for everything and was friends with the ghosts. In the comfort of their dorm, he was funny, too.

The girls of his year were nice. James didn’t have a lot to do with them. They were still at that age where boys and girls aren’t friends often. Sirius tried to befriend them right away – two muggleborns and a halfblood? He needed them in his arsenal of mother-annoying-friends! James began to understand Sirius.

Lily was smart. She always did her homework, always knew her stuff in their lessons and was the first one to master new spells. But she wasn’t smug about it! James was very smug about it when he mastered something quickly. He was proud of himself and liked to tell everyone how quickly he did it. Lily wasn’t like that.

Lily was also kind. She had friends across all houses, even that unfriendly bloke no one liked, Severus. She always talked about her sister with a smile, and lamented about how much she missed and loved her parents (to which Sirius always rolled his eyes). She became everyone’s friend in a matter of seconds. She made everyone laugh and she had an infectious smile.

Yes, James was in love with her! And he was sure: She would be his wife.

[...]

***

[...]

Now, he boarded the train to Hogwarts for his second year. There were no nerves this time, he was beaming with excitement at the thought of seeing his friends again.

Remus was already in the compartment when James joined. Peter came as well, he was bringing snacks from his mum for all of them. Mrs Pettigrew was a godsent.

Sirius was late. Remus’ face was glued to the window, looking for him. There was a rather fresh cut on his arm, soaking white bandages in red. James knew not to ask. Remus got cranky when he was asked about the scars and the wounds. In their first year, it had prompted Sirius to ask a lot of questions about Remus’ family – James didn’t understand why. But now, they were all rather sure they knew the truth behind Remus’ injuries. It started as a joke, but then Peter shared his observations about the timing of Remus’ moods, wounds and sicknesses. Remus may be a werewolf.

While James was still contemplating this, the door to the compartment was pushed open.

Sirius smiled widely at them. “Gentlemen,” he nodded, “May I present: my little brother Regulus Black.”

He pushes his brother in front of him. He looked very much like Sirius, just missing the effortless confidence and entitlement that was oozing from the older one. Regulus had eyes too big for his face, thin lips and pale freckles on his milk-white skin. Has he ever seen the sun? He didn’t look it. His hair was a little wavier than Sirius’s, but equally as black. Both of them were severely overdressed, wearing expensive robes that might have been fashionable in the late 19th century. It made Regulus look like an angel of death. A small Victorian child coming to haunt them from the past. The fact that he didn’t say anything but just stared at his brother’s friends, made it worse. He was creepy.

“Say hello, Regulus.”

Regulus scowled – the resemblance between the brothers was uncanny – “Hello.”

Sirius grinned and directed Regulus to sit between him and James. “This will be grand! Regulus could join us in Gryffindor tower and be the fifth marauder! We’ll have so much fun!”

Regulus didn’t say anything for the entire duration of the train ride. He was shy, and stayed in the shadow of his brother. He seemed comfortable there.

“I’m considering getting into less trouble this year,” Sirius announced after Regulus had to leave them to enter the castle with the other first years.

“What?” Remus half-laughed, “Are you even capable of that?”

“I could try. Now that Reggie is here instead of home, there’s no need to keep the attention on me. Although… getting into trouble was so much fun last year. Maybe we could do a few pranks… just a few. I’d rather not agitate my mother too much for when I go back for the holidays.”

By now, James has understood that Sirius’ mother must be rather strict. James’ parents weren’t strict at all. The worst punishment he has ever got was having to stay in the house for an entire weekend. He could imagine, Sirius’ mother doing that all the time. Maybe that was why Sirius and Regulus were so pale.

James didn’t pay attention to the sorting ceremony for the most part until –

“Regulus Black.”

Sirius inhaled sharply.

“Slytherin!”

Eight, nine, ten, eleven – Sirius still hadn’t exhaled. James touched his shoulder. Sirius started and turned, frowning at him.

“Are you alright?” James whispered.

He shrugged and looked back at Regulus, whose eyes were on their group while walking over to the Slytherin table.