#and i hate that things have gone on for so long with change feeling so far away

[velvet4510]

Why Magneto’s Storyline in X-Men: Apocalypse is The Worst (it’s not just Cherik)

Ok I just need to vent because this has been chewing away at my brain for far too long.

Cherik is far from the only reason why Erik’s family plotline in X-Men: Apocalypse is some of the stupidest, sloppiest, and most character-ruining pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. Haters may say ��oh you’re just upset because he married someone who wasn’t Charles.” But, like, aside from the fact that the original timeline already established that Erik’s top priority was always the fight for mutantkind and he had no interest in settling down - whether that had anything to do with his feelings for Charles or not - the problems with the Apocalypse writing go WAY beyond just him & Charles:

Erik would never abandon his cause at this point. By the end of DOFP, Erik has just been imprisoned for a full 10 years thanks to the JFK situation. Meaning he has spent a full decade being forcibly inactive in the fight for mutants. And he just learned that all of his fears about humans and mutants came to pass in the future to the level where a time-traveler had to be sent to change the past. And he was so set on averting that future that he tried to kill his friend and the sister of the man he loved, and then made a whole speech on international TV begging for the mutants of the world to fight alongside him. This is the POLAR OPPOSITE of a man who would feel like settling down and walking away from the fight within the next decade. The Sentinels being cancelled did NOT make mutant life easy overnight; Stryker was still up to no good, and there is no way that there weren’t others like him doing the same. Yes, Raven’s actions made a very positive difference, but I think we have enough brain cells to agree that this did not mean things for mutants immediately became sunshine and rainbows to the level where Erik - the most (understandably) paranoid character in the X-Men series - would even consider taking a break, let alone giving up the fight permanently. Knowing what he did about the possibilities of the future would’ve made the Erik we know double down on his commitment to his cause and follow up on his actions in Washington.

Magda is a human. At this point, Erik hates humans. Again, he has just been imprisoned by humans for 10 years for trying to save a mutant, and he just learned that in the future, humans would’ve wiped out mutants, exactly as he feared. Everything that happened in DOFP would only further inflame his already-passionate hatred of humans. He is not in the mental state to even begin to consider Charles’ philosophy and give a human a chance at a relationship, let alone marry a human.

The family lives in Poland. The country where Auschwitz is. The country where Erik and his family and people was imprisoned, tortured, and executed. The country where Erik had to watch Shaw kill his mother. Basically the LAST country in the freaking WORLD that Erik would want to ever see again, let alone spend the rest of his life in. Erik is fluent in multiple languages - he is shown to easily converse in French and Spanish in First Class - and has been all over the world thanks to his Nazi hunting, so if he really needed to flee the U.S., there were a hundred other countries he could’ve gone to and blended into (Canada, France, Mexico, anywhere in South America, heck, he even could’ve discovered Genosha during this time). But in the original timeline, he didn’t leave the U.S. at all despite being a national fugitive after escaping his plastic prison, and he never did get caught again, so….

Erik’s first meeting with Magda is completely OOC for him. Erik mentions that he told Magda who he was the first night they met and he trusted her then. EXCUSE ME??? Erik Lehnsherr does not trust strangers. Erik Lehnsherr does not tell the complete truth about himself and his past to just anyone; look at how deeply Charles had to probe before Erik opened up to him. This stupid line was obviously shoehorned in just to make their relationship seem like perfect soulmates and thus ensure it is doubly tragic when she gets thrown in the fridge 5 minutes later (more on that in a sec). Obviously the intention is for the audience to go “aww, he instantly trusted her, she instantly accepted him, this is true love…” Give me a break. You’re really telling me that Magda met this stranger one night, found out he was none other than the international fugitive who apparently killed the U.S. president and just tried to kill another president on live TV, and went “oh, no problem, honey, let’s make a baby and live the cottagecore dream!” That’s some BS if I’ve ever heard it, and I’m convinced the writers subconsciously knew it; there’s a reason that is revealed in a throwaway line rather than shown onscreen, because then nobody would’ve bought it.

Fridging. Magda and Nina exist in the movie for one reason and one reason only: To get brutally killed and give Erik even more grief and trauma so that he’ll seek revenge on the entire world, aka do what the plot demands of him, aka have the same journey as he did in First Class (more on that in a sec). That’s all. Neither of them are any more than one-dimensional plot devices. They are not characters at all. Magda isn’t even named in the actual movie (he doesn’t even say her name when she dies) - it’s so obvious they didn’t even know what her name would be when they made the movie. This is textbook fridging, and one of the worst examples of it of all time. It’s all the worse considering that Erik never met Magda in the original pre-DOFP timeline, meaning Magda originally most likely lived a long happy life and died old in bed. But now, she gets fridged just because the writers didn’t know what more to do with Erik. It’s misogyny of the highest level.

Erik wouldn’t risk starting a young family at this moment in his life. Erik was a Holocaust prisoner, his people were massacred, his mom was shot when he couldn’t move the coin, and then Charles was shot when Erik accidentally deflected a bullet into him, and then every member of his Brotherhood save Raven were captured and killed. Not only is this more than enough grief for one character to have, but the man wouldn’t dare risk having a new family of his own when everyone he’s ever loved has gotten hurt (largely because of him), and when he’s an international fugitive. That is no time to risk being selfish, and he would know. He would’ve been the first to realize that a potential wife and daughter would also end up killed, and so he’d avoid that altogether. In fact, he wouldn’t even consider it, because, as mentioned, he wouldn’t leave his cause behind. You know, if he was actually in character.

A parenthood story for Erik was already set up. DOFP already hinted at Erik being a father, with Peter’s comment about his mom. So if the writers wanted to show Erik as a father, and to include Magda, they already had a solution that would seamlessly flow from the previous film - make Erik and Peter’s relationship one of the centerpieces of the story, and let Magda be Peter’s mom! (You know, like she is in the comics!)

It doesn’t contribute anything new to Erik’s character development. From a screenwriting POV, this is unforgivable. May I remind you that Erik’s entire storyline in First Class revolved around grief and trauma for the loss of his family and people, especially his mom, and seeking revenge for it. Giving him a wife and daughter just so they can get killed too adds absolutely NOTHING to his character development. It’s merely retreading everything that already happened in his arc: he loses his family and goes on a roaring rampage of revenge. Completely superfluous, right down to Charles insisting that there’s good in him beyond the pain. The redundancy becomes apparent even in the dialogue, where Charles literally says “I told you since I first met you there’s good in you too.” The script itself can’t help but point out that all of this has happened before and literally nothing new has been added to Erik’s character arc.

See? It’s not just because of Cherik. Erik’s story in X-Men: Apocalypse is an atrocity in basic screenwriting and character development, on every level. And I will never accept it.

(Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way…)

[anon-sect]

Practical Joke Gone Wrong

Felix loved his slides that he had purchased last month from the store. They were so comfortable to walk in. No matter what surface he was walking on, his feet had the best comfort. They were the best pair of shoes he owned and loved to wear when he didn't want to wear socks. He didn't know how they got the material to be so durable, but he was glad. He definitely intended to keep this pair of footwear for a long time.

Andrew was barely hanging on mentally. This was one practical joke that went so wrong. He found himself sold to some random guy and used as his footwear. He could feel everything beneath the heel and feet pressing down on the insole. It was a painful experience every day.

He had to deal with whatever surface his owner was stepping on, being pressed up against the sole of his shoe form. Even the tiniest pebble hurt. Having his owner's feet pressed down on his insole face was the worst. Some days, his owner's feet really reeked. If he had a physical mouth, he would be gagging for fresh air. The pressure of his constant stepping made the experience even more painful. The days he really hated were when his owner would go shopping. He would sometimes be out all day long. That sometimes meant sweaty feet and odor he would be forced to inhale and taste all day long. Being his owner's footwear was something he would never wish for. Unfortunately, the guy was completely clueless as to what his feet were doing to him. All he knew was that he bought a normal pair of leather slides. Ever since the guy bought him and walked out of the store wearing him, his fate was permanently sealed.

30 DAYS EARLIER......

Andrew and his buddy Greg were always playing jokes on each other at work. One time, Greg messed with Andrew's lunch by putting diced hot peppers in it. Andrew would get him back by hiding his shoes when he found him napping on break. It was their usual thing for them.

This time, Greg decided to do a big practical joke on Andrew. When he wasn't looking in the store room, he used his TF Pro App and turned him into a pair of leather slides. He placed him in a shoe box with a price tag on it. "You look like a nice pair of shoes." He paused, looking at Andrew in his new form and laughed. "Don't worry, it's not permanent, I will be back in a few minutes to change you back." He placed a top on the shoe box. He put a sticky note on the box that had 'not for sale' written on it.

Andrew was so pissed at Greg for this new practical joke. He couldn't move or speak. He was stuck in this form in a dark shoe box. But he knew his buddy would change him back after another good laugh at his new look.

Two minutes later, Andrew saw another employee open the top of the shoe box. The employee had taken the sticky note and tossed it in the trash. After examining him, he placed him back in the box with the top back on.

The next time that Andrew saw daylight, he saw a random guy holding him in his hands. Apparently, the guy loved how he looked as leather slides. He hated what would come next. The guy slides his bare feet inside him. Being worn on his feet was new to Andrew, and he absolutely hated it. As the guy walked around on him, he heard the guy say how he was impressed with the shoes and decided he would buy them.

Andrew was mortified at that moment. He didn't want to permanently be a pair of shoes for a random customer. But he was powerless and voiceless to stop it from happening. He hoped Greg would rescue him before the guy actually purchased him. Minute later, the sale was rung up, and the customer paid the cost. The customer decided to wear him out of the store since he was so impressed with the level of comfort his feet got. Andrew could only mentally weep as the guy put him on his feet and started to walk out of the store.

As the guy was walking out, Andrew could hear in the background, Greg asking about a shoe box that had a sticky note on it. But Greg was too late to stop what had occurred as the customer cleared the door and kept walking, completely oblivious of the fact that he just bought living footwear.

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act ii spoilers⚠️

listen to me and listen well. i'm gonna analyze the caitvi breakup scene conflict in detail (and tell y'all why caitlyn is not the villain y'all paint her out to be)

first of all, caitlyn has every reason in the world to hate jinx and want her gone. there are more neutral reasons like the fact caitlyn is a police officer and jinx is a threat to piltover and zaun's law and order, any material property she can reach and basically everyone around her bcuz she's insane, unstable and more than capable of causing damage. then there are deeply personal reasons: jinx tried to blow up caitlyn and vi on multiple occasions, kidnapped caitlyn (god knows what she did to her before vi joined the tea party, but other fans have pointed out cait was so traumatized she went from not exhibiting any fear of jinx before to shuddering when seeing her after), tried to get vi to kill caitlyn, killed her "father" silco on accident, blew up the council, killing caitlyn's literal mother among others and causing injuries and damages. caitlyn at this point might even believe jinx is the one who organized the massacre at the statue reveal ceremony. she even acknowledges how easily jinx's actions and the trauma they've caused her have undone a lot of the work caitlyn has put with the help of vi by her side into seeing zaunites as people despite the way she was raised. all of her anger at jinx for this, for taking her mother, for all the pain she's caused, even her fear make caitlyn desparate. she starts taking more drastic measures in order to catch jinx like using more violence/threats towards innocents, which is the one thing vi tries to address with her. caitlyn promises she won't change. but she already has, as an unconscious and natural reaction to what she's experienced.

earlier, caitlyn doesn't offer vi the police badge just bcuz she's mentally stripped vi's zaunite identity from her and now sees her as a topsider and one of "the good ones" (i bet she's started to do that too, as alluded to by maddie's words abt caitlyn saying vi went after silco alone, but caitlyn does this just so she can compartmentalize better and separate her beloved vi here in piltover, from jinx who's taken so much from her down there in zaun), but also bcuz she needs vi's help to get through zaun and find jinx. as she's just lost someone, she badly wants to be able to keep vi close, on her squad, in her line of sight, in order to protect her and make sure nothing happens to her on the potentially deadly task of finding and eliminating jinx. (i want to add smth else here: notice how vi feels guilt for failing to keep others safe and feels responsible for protecting the people around her, so she tries to distance herself from them, like not letting powder go with the big kids, and fights short range, keeping enemies close to her and away from her allies so they can't get hurt. caitlyn does the opposite, she's a long range sharpshooter so she tries to keeps her loved ones as close to her as possible under her watchful gaze, far from her enemies.) it's never implied she wants vi to be a cop forever, or perform any such duties outside of this jinx mission. she's still at fault for not understanding what putting on the uniform would mean to vi - a betrayal of her family, her home, everything she's ever known and loved until now, which vi isn't ready for and caitlyn can't rightfully ask of her. yet vi doesn't say that to caitlyn (and continues to not say anything when their squad of misfits starts gassing up the undercity) and takes it because she sees no other way. she knows her chances alone against jinx aren't looking good.

vi can't bring herself to kill her sister (despite the fact that she's mostly gone, incredibly dangerous, unstable and could've easily killed vi and caitlyn - even accidentally, like she killed silco) and doesn't want her to die either. we can even look at what caitlyn thinks needs to be done with jinx and what vi thinks needs to be done with jinx as a cultural difference betw the two bcuz in zaun where survival is essential, family is everything, you're bound together by what you've been through and you need each other to survive so you don't just cut family off, you don't judge them harshly, leave them or turn them in, but in piltover where that's not the case, there are laws and people who serve to enforce them like caitlyn so if you're a bad person who's done bad things, there's a way for you to be dealt with. vi doesn't realize she wouldn't be able to kill jinx or let herself feel that way bcuz of the amount of guilt she harbors for "creating jinx" and the responsibility she carries for jinx's actions (smth she internalized bcuz of vander teaching her that as a leader she's responsible for whoever chooses to follow her) - again, jinx stealing the hexcore, kidnapping/torturing cait, almost killing the two of them, blowing up the council, etc. so she offers to deal with jinx herself, which caitlyn doesn't want, knowing first hand what jinx is capable of and maybe even suspecting vi's weakness before vi can - caitlyn even says that she's scared that if either of them goes after jinx alone, she'll return in a box. and instead of listening to her own feelings and telling caitlyn about them, vi again decides to "toughen it out" and pull through with it. she tries to seem stronger, more ready and certain when she tells caitlyn to take the shot, but her fear of being faced with having to kill jinx becomes even more evident in the fact she basically indirectly asks caitlyn to do it for her so she doesn't have to.

when the fight breaks out, the danger is very real. sevika can take caitlyn down easily as she's a long range shooter, not a close combat fighter. while cait's fighting tooth and nail, jinx and vi are dancing around each other the way teen girls fight compared to other fights they've had (jinx hitting with her wrists, vi stumbling, etc). they're not fighting to the death bcuz they don't want the other to die. when vi finally pins jinx, who's seemed quite normal until now btw, as if she's finally in her right mind (like smth in that mind can be salvaged), vi notably hesitates. a lot. and before she does anything or moves so caitlyn can shoot, isha jumps between vi and jinx with a gun to vi's head. and here's where i need y'all to be fucking for real. the fear and anger caitlyn must've experienced in that moment are what made her completely lose it, i bet she fully had an out of body experience. now, caitlyn isn't a great shot, she's an excellent shot. if she shoots the gun out of this kid's hand, she saves vi from her brains being blown out of her head. if she misses, worst case scenario, she takes this kid's hand out. she takes the fucking shot to save vi's life, a calculated risk even if she does it rather on reflex. we even see how the bullet flies way closer to vi than to the kid because she's self correcting potential aim errors away from the kid.

now that the kid isn't pointing a weapon in vi's face anymore, instead of pulling the kid from jinx and hauling ass so caitlyn can shoot again safely (see: bcuz she doesn't want jinx to die), vi stands up and starts telling caitlyn not to shoot, even getting in front of her. caitlyn is verbally but not really mentally responsive to her surroundings in this moment, that's how gone she is. her vision tunnels onto jinx and she tries to keep shooting until sevika pulls the lever and we exit combat. vi reasonably confronts caitlyn for shooting at a kid (after caitlyn stops hitting the wall like a woman gone), which she only does because of her fear for vi and fear of jinx (and what she might do next, or if they let her get away) because she feels betrayed, since caitlyn just told her she wouldn't change. she did changed - she became more brutal, but she'd already changed long ago, when she lost her courage, her mother, her progress and when she came to love vi.

and now it's caitlyn's turn to confront vi. vi didn't have the guts to tell her she can't kill jinx, that she can't wear the uniform, that she's not okay with gassing zaun up, and even encouraged her to shoot, so cait was under the impression that this was it. that they were going to end jinx for good. when she says "i thought you were different but you're not", of course she might mean she thought vi was "better" than other zaunites, but i think perhaps even more than that, she means she thought vi had also been changed in the same way by the trauma jinx had caused caitlyn, that she'd finally let go of her hope powder was still somewhere inside jinx and realized how truly destructive and dangerous jinx is and how that necessitates killing her. while vi is immunized against the terrors, caitlyn has never experienced anything like this in her life, which is why she doesn't understand why vi doesn't understand, why she wants jinx to live despite everything.

while vi doesn't seem to understand, she's ready to try to. she's let her guard (and gauntlets) down, she's open and attempting to talk to caitlyn who has shut off completely and refuses to even look her in the eyes (which is one of the primary ways in which caitlyn connects to people). vi tries to stop her from leaving and caitlyn strikes her, as hard as she can, purposefully hitting her in her stab wound which she helped vi recover from herself - almost as if condemning their past relationship and everything they've been through. not only does that physically bring vi, someone used to taking hits, to her knees - it completely incapacitates her and breaks her heart. she can't even follow. she's officially lost the last good thing she had, the one person who cared about her.

both of them are left feeling betrayed and hurt. some of these conflicts could've been avoided by simple communication, others were by design of who they are and where they come from.

[inotakumagf]

the grudge

✶ geto suguru x gn!reader

word count ✺ 860

summary ✺ you talk to suguru for the first time in years

warning ✺ listened to the grudge by olivia rodrigo while writing this, so its allll hurt/no comfort. just straight up pain lol :P new to posting on here, so reblogs and comments are very appreciated!

“I hate you,” you say.

Suguru doesn’t respond. He doesn’t react at all. You don’t expect him to. He hasn’t cared about you in a long time, not since he decided to leave and become a curse user.

Your anger boils over at the continued silence. “Why? Why, Suguru? We loved you. Gojo, Shoko, Nanami, all of us. I loved you. I–” your words catch in your throat as you think of all that he’s done. After all of it you still stand before him, desperate for answers.

“Why did you do it? Why did you leave? We would have…we would have helped you. I would have done something,” you scream. Nothing.

“You were supposed to be the best of us. Not just the strongest. You were so kind, you cared about protecting non-sorcerers. What changed?”

You dig your fingers into your coat to stop yourself from reaching forward. You duck your head to hide the tears that are pooling in your eyes. You don’t want your anguish to be visible.

“I would have done anything, followed you anywhere. Do you know that? I’d still do anything for you, it’s pathetic,” you scoff, turning your head to wipe your wet face against your sleeve.

“I lied, the last time that we spoke. I do still love you. I need you to know, I love you. Even after everything. I shouldn’t speak for the others, but I know they feel the same. We…we haven’t filled the gap that you left when you defected.”

Lightning crackles in the distance, and it begins to drizzle. You stand in the silence, closing your eyes and letting the rain hit your face, until it begins to pour. But still no one moves.

“I’ve missed you,” you practically whimper. There’s a begging tone in your voice, as though things could be different.

“Fuck, I–I wish I could go back, do everything different. I wish I noticed sooner. I’m so sorry. Please, I need you to–”

You stop. You cannot allow yourself to beg for him to…what? Come back to you? After everything, you know you ask something impossible of him. The love that you had shared back in high school is long gone. Your Suguru will never return to you. The pain and hate that he spread is who he has become known for, and you know you cannot change that, cannot change him. And still, you wonder. Maybe, maybe he’d decide that he loved you more than he hated non-sorcerers. Are you a fool for wanting that? Of course you are, but you know your friends from high school think of it too. 

You regret every moment that led to him leaving, but you will never regret your love. You love Suguru, and you hate him so much for it. You want to scream, you want him to acknowledge it. You just want any piece of him you can get. The need overwhelms you, and you sink to your knees before him. Your pants soak into the wet Earth. The rain washes over you.

“I need you. I can’t let you go, I can’t move on. Not since you left. Come back. Come back to Jujutsu High. Come back to me. Or…if you never want to see me again that’s fine. I just…”

“You would have been a good teacher. The cult…that’s not all you could be. The students would love you, and you could build up a new generation of sorcerers. They would be nothing like the higher ups. We would be nothing like the higher ups. There’s so much we could do together.”

There’s no sound but your heavy breathing and the pitter-patter of rain. Your head dips low. The silence is answer enough. There is nothing here for you anymore.

You stand on shaky legs. The bouquet of roses that you had brought to this meeting are cast aside on the ground where you had left them. You pick up the bouquet now, brushing off some dirt and droplets of water. You stare down at the flowers, and the reminder of why you had come makes your heart ache. You place the bouquet against the small headstone that Gojo had put together. You hadn’t been able to recover the body after the fight, but Gojo insisted on a humble headstone for Suguru. Of course you helped him find a spot, far from the prying eyes of the higher ups. Despite everything, you still love him. He deserves to be remembered.

“I love you,” you say out loud this time. A part of you wishes, pleads, that he can hear you. You need to believe that he can, because the last time you had spoken to him in person, you’d said the most awful, vile things. You wish more than anything you could take it back, beg for his forgiveness, beg for him to just come home. You will spend the rest of your life regretting everything you didn’t do, even though rationally you know it’s not your fault

“I love you, Suguru,” you repeat with more fervor. “Do you hear me? I fucking love you. Always.”

Suguru doesn’t respond. The dead often don’t.

[docholligay]

I have no idea how wild the fandom for Hadestown is. If you don’t know me, if we’ve never exchanged words, and you have BIG FEELINGS about Hadestown that any level of critique will set off, I very much encourage you to move it along. I can’t do Hamilton 2 or whatever. (If I know you I will give you more leeway FOR SURE. I just want to keep strange weirdos out) 

First, I have to provide a little bit of context: I got in on the ground floor with Hadestown. 

Yes Doc, I too, have been obsessed with it ever since it was in previews--no, I mean, i saw folk singer Anais Mitchell perform the whole thing like 15 years or whatever ago in a converted garage venue. 

I wasn’t even in town to SEE HER, I was in town to see a different artist and this was back when live music was a bigger thing and not a dying scene, and people just bought tickets to whatever was playing on a free night. I like folk music, I liked the idea of what was then being called a folk opera. It was instant love. Orpheus and Eurydice is one of my favorite myths, I am from a rural and exploited place, I loved everything I heard, some absolutely glorious poetry going on there. Bought the concept album, forced so so many people to listen to it all the way through. Forced jetty to listen to it on our road trip! Before the musical came out even!

I have been following this musical ever since then. I kind of thought it would never get made! I followed the original version, and then the broadway one. What I’m saying is, I have what now amounts to about fifteen or so years of history with this musical, and all the changes it has gone through, and all my individual feelings about each of those changes. My evaluation necessarily lives within that context. 

This was part of the reason it took me so long to see the Broadway! I wanted the emotional space to feel however I felt about it, even if that ended up being, “I fucking hated that” and it’s hard to have that when someone buys very expensive tickets and a trip for you to see something you’ve been following for years. Part of jetty’s gift of this was “And you can hate it!!” and I knew she meant it, because when you watch something move and be workshopped and change, you get a lot of feelings about it. 

So I can’t really go, “I liked Hadestown/I didn’t” I mean, I have loved hadestown for a very long time. If all you wanted to hear was , ‘Did you like it?” oh yes! But I have at least four versions sitting my head right now, and they are all next to each other for evaluation in a way that someone who has only experienced the broadway can’t have. 

I want to provide this knowledge because my thoughts about it go so far beyond what is currently being staged on Broadway. No, this is not going to be me saying, ‘Everything was better with the concept album!” no, some things are, but this isn’t that I promise. 

Everything below this is spoilery

So, originally Hadestown was a slightly different story and admittedly, one that spoke to me more than the story I saw last night. It was a lot more specific in its earliest days--it was about an impoverished mining town. Hadestown was the company town, underground, and there was basically no mention of Hades and Persephone being actual gods, anything was winked to, but it was mostly about how the holders of capital have all the accountability of gods. The whole thing had a much stronger anti-capitalist framework, and Orpheus and Eurydice were basically naive kids who thought they could avoid involvement with the mine. Obviously, this very much spoke to me. It was matching my freak exactly. 

It is not that now. And that’s both totally expected, and disappointing to me personally. The show now is much more of a, I’m trying to put this in a way that feels less insulting because I don’t mean to be, very Captial L Liberal. Audiences who can afford Broadway tickets will eat up the vague notions of wishing for a better tomorrow and ‘show the way the world could be’ and putting this back into the framework of a story of the gods instead of the utter lack of choices available to people, that the game is rigged from the start, and Orpheus even having this chance is both an exception and a test hades expects him to fail. I get why this happens. Literally every story that has ever been brought to Broadway has had to be made more palatable to a broader audience. The story it is now, is much much more broad, much more life affirming or whatever, and much more easy to hear. I think I would like it better if I didn’t know the story from the very first versions. 

But that was not a problem last night! That was a problem when i heard the previews out of Alberta! So I’ve had years to adjust to knowing that they were going to blame Orpheus a lot more. Which I love that the Broadway seems to have backed off of! The Alberta production really sort of LAID INTO THE BOY in a way I aggressively did not care for, because it was the antithesis of the story as I understood it. Love that they took that back a step. 

Anyway, so, things I loved about the musical last night:

The staging of Wait For Me fucked SO SEVERELY that honestly it makes me forgive like 90% of the things I don’t care for in the final Broadway version, that I thought were done better in other versions. I almost cried, it was EXACTLY what I would have pictured in my head after hearing it all those years ago. It was incredible. I wish I could see it again, and study it. I am thinking about it right now! It will live rent free in my head. Perfect. 

The gal who played Eurydice has clearly listened to Anais Mitchell albums, because she sounded SO MUCH like Anais that it even took me back for a moment. 

I’m not sure if this is praise or a criticism: 

I don’t know how I feel about having Hermes as an overall narrator! I go back and forth on it and have since the Alberta came out. If I were going to do it I would do it differently than it is currently staged. Jetty was talking about how she loves when the instrumentals are onstage, and I’m the exact opposite--I mostly find it crowds the stage while not bringing much interest for me. But in general, i both like it and do not like it, to give a very useful critique. I don’t hate it, for sure. I love the opener for Wait For Me II. But overall I will probably need to think about it for another 15 years. 

Frustrations I have:

 I think I have decided that even for the MASSIVE INSANE BUCKWILD flaw of seemingly blaming Orpheus for Eurydice’s decision, the Alberta is the best version. I think I prefer the concept album on a personal level for a lot of things, but I think the Alberta is, well for starters, definitely more complete--the concept album has some massive gaps in it that desperately needed filling--but it preserved a lot of the poetry that the Broadway version seems to have stripped out while being much more mass appealing. I was particularly GALLED by the rewrite of Epic III, one of the things in the Alberta version that made me say, ‘Wow I am prepared to forgive a lot of horseshit for this song, my god” 

NEVER FORGET WHAT THEY TOOK FROM YOU

They took out "The heart of a king who loves everything like the hammer loves the nail" imagine writing that line and scrapping it, are you HIGH, fuck me running.

And I think this summarizes a lot of my frustrations about the changes between the Alberta and the Broadway. It no longer sounds like a folk opera. It has lost a lot of the poetry of the original, folk music being very grounded in lyric and somewhat less in vocal theatrics. 

Also, and this might just be an actors thing, I did not get any sense that Persephone and Hades love each other…at all. Part of the appeal for human beings named Doc who are me is that they love each other, and they can’t stand each other, and I didn’t FEEL that at all. Like i said this could be an acting thing--I was not overly impressed by our persephone broadly. But taking out her part in Chant II I think also really contributes to this problem. 

This is both the Alberta and Broadway versions: I MISS THE FATES BEING A REALLY TIGHT 40s STYLE GIRL GROUP SOB SOB SOB. In the original, the fates were the only characters ‘outside’ the story, and this was indicated stylistically by the fact that everyone else was singing folk music, and they were singing in this very different style. The idea fifteen years ago was that they actually would be dressed all in that style, but yeah, none of this happens now and i find it SOOOOOO disappointing personally. I hate their stupid costumes I hate the ‘rougher’ style of vocals I hate it so much ahahahahha. If I was going to force Anais to change one thing it would actually be this, even though it is insanely petty and silly. 

The best version of when the chips are down:

I don’t know if literally any of this is what you were looking for but I somehow deeply suspect not. I am IN THE SHIT with Hadestown though, so if you have any specific things you wanted to ask about or have me talk about, let me know! I am just cutting this off now because it’s already at 1700 words and I’m not sure anyone cares that much about my journey with the only musical I can truly say I knew about when it was still a twinkle in someone’s eye. 

(Yeah Doc, I have a question: Do you have anything mean to say about the concept album? OH BOY DO I. Some of it is to be expected like, "Uh, Anais you need the rest of the story here girl." but a huge one is I fucking HATE that she got Justin Vernon, who you know better as Bon Iver, to do Orpheus. He SUCKS. He sounds bored the whole time because that is how that motherfucker sings. I have HATED it since day one. Reeve Carney is perfect and literally what I started my local women's prayer and casserole circle to petition the Lord for.)

[unabashegirl]

Different 14 — college hs

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well. I just got two things to say.

I just posted Different 34 on Patreon!

I'm still trying to gather the money to continue my journey to medical school in January. I've only gotten 1% of my goal. I'll leave the link here in case you would like or are able to help me. Please I am desperate! 🥺 https://ko-fi.com/mariabernal8706

--> different masterlist <--

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to the rest of the chapters, various one shots and much more :)

Harry had multiple questions that he needed to ask her, but how could he? There were surrounded by people and in a public space. He also had no intention of ruining the night. Their worlds had finally collided, and he could tell that Y/N looked so happy. Harry wasn’t planning on destroying her happiness.

“So, Sarah” James started a conversation with her. He wasn’t blind. He could see Sarah’s natural beauty. She wasn’t like most of the girls that he spent time together with, who always tried too hard to be noticed. He never cared for those types of girls. Sure, he had fun with them, but he never considered them for anything beyond that. He had gone crazy in his freshman and sophomore years which had granted him his current reputation as a fuckboy.

James had always carried himself with much confidence. He wasn’t just good-looking, but he was also smart. Most people perceived to be a jock since he spent most of his time at the gym and on the field. James’s father was the owner of a big company just like Y/N’s. His future had always been predestined. He was expected to fulfill his father’s spot after college. He was scared, excited, and nervous. James's father was the CEO and had hundredths of men working for him. James would eventually have to care for them too just like his father had done for so long. They were all his family, so the pressure was defiantly on.

“Tell us a little bit about yourself” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his sweater and leaned forward intrigued about what she had to say. She had been far too quiet, and he wanted to hear her.

“What do you want to know” She giggled and smiled, hating the attention that she was getting from Y/N’s handsome friends. Sarah had always flown below the radar especially when it involved boys. She wasn’t interesting enough; they would usually say, and she had accepted it. She didn’t take it to heart. Sarah knew that if that is what it took for her to have a respectable job after she graduated, she was willing to risk it all. Plus, all the men that said so, would eventually be working under her.

“Anything. I am all ears.” James was starting to understand Y/N’s fascination with Harry. He liked that she wasn’t throwing herself at him or speaking none stop about herself. She was acting a bit hard to get. It was refreshing.

“Why are you suddenly so interested?” Sarah clapped back wanting to know his intention. Sebastian chuckled and laid an arm over his friend’s shoulder. He was actually surprised that she hadn’t fallen for his charm, yet.

“Because you aren’t like the others” Harry was starting to feel a bit awkward about the whole interaction. It was weird having two men deliberately flirting with whom he considered his best friend.

On the other hand, Mitch was not having a good time. He was actually very annoyed with both men. He had always liked Sarah. She was like the sun to him. Every time he got close enough to her, she would burn him and turn him away. Mitch couldn’t stand away either. He needed her around just like Earth needs the sun to survive. Now, he had more competition. He felt like the chances of finally being with the girl of his dreams were slipping away.

“That was really good” Y/N breathed as she finished eating her last taco. Harry smiled and reached out to her from under the table. She knew that she had a lot of explaining to do. The last thing, she needed or wanted was for things to turn messier. She just prayed and hoped that Brian would stay miles away from her. Y/N just wanted to enjoy her senior year.

“Alright. Let’s go” Sebastian smiled as he abruptly stood up from the table.

“Where?” Sarah asked, confused at his sudden outburst of energy.

“To do something fun!” He teased, “Come on!”

“Where are we going?!” Y/N asked again as she loaded her bag in the back of Jeff’s car. Sebastian always had half of his body. in the car as he laughed heavily. “My car is back on the main campus!”

“Everyone get in. We’ll take you and then you’ll have to follow us!”

“There is no way we are all going to fit in!” Sarah exclaimed as she watched Y/N and Harry get on.

“Here,” Y/N said as she slid on top of Harry’s lap. “Now you can fit” Mitch allowed Sarah to get in the middle seat and then he squeezed himself in. Harry wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist as soon as James hit the gas. They drove like maniacs and Y/N was already used to it.

“We are going to die” Sarah whispered to Mitch, “We should be back in the dorm and studying from where we had felt of.”

“It’s your senior year, Sarah! You are meant to be having fun” James said as he looked at her through the rearview mirror. Sebastian chuckled along with Y/N, who was too entertained preventing her head from smashing against the roof of the car. “Will you follow us?”

“Only if you tell us where we are going,” Y/N said as they dropped her off by her car.

“Absolutely not” James puffed, “Where is your sense of adventure? You know you are not going to be in your twenties, in college with your boyfriend and your best friends forever”. Y/N pursed her lips and shook her head with a smile.

“Fine!” He had gotten her. James had the ability to convince everyone to do the craziest things ever.

Y/N decided to take everyone in her car. She promised to drop each of them off after their little rendezvous. “Where the fuck are they going?” She mumbled as she drove down the unrecognizable back roads. She was leaning forward, and quitting her eyes trying to figure out where they were taking them.

“You seriously don’t know?” Harry asked as he looked at the time on his phone.

“No” she giggled noticing the backlights of James's car flashing. He pulled in the middle of the road. Y/N turned off the engine of the car as the boys got out of their car.

“Where are we?” Sarah asked as she looked around. It was a deserted street, surrounded by woods. It looked like a back road with no houses close by.

“Come” James opened Y/N's car door as he turned on the flashlight on his phone and led the way into the woods. “Don’t be scared” he reassured them as they walked into the dark woods in a straight line. James and Sebastian had found the place on one of their daily jogs. They had never taken anyone before, which explained their over-excitement.

“Do you know where you are going? Y/N asked as she trailed behind Harry. Their hands were intertwined as he held his phone with his other hand, illuminating the ground and making sure that Y/N didn’t trip over a rock or branch.

“Stop asking so many questions!” Sarah and Y/N giggled while Mitch was too quiet trying his best not to fall on his face. The cars seemed to be getting smaller as they walked further away from the road. mitch ran his hands across his face, realizing that he was getting too paranoid. No one could blame him. It was chilly, dark, and very windy which made it seem like the trees could talk.

“Harry!” Mitch yelled and ran up to the couple. He walked beside them not wanting to be the last.

“Are you scared?” Harry chuckled at his friend's uneasiness.

“Yes” He immediately confessed, “Don’t leave me” he whispered. It was quiet for a bit except for the sound of their steps until they finally detected the sound of water and saw the mood high in the sky. The trees finally ended, revealing the lake and a ridiculously small, secluded beach.

“How did you find this place?”

“On one of those morning runs that you hate so much” Y/N playfully slapped Sebastian on his abdomen.

“Runs?”

“The boys take these ridiculously long runs through the woods during the weekends” Y/N explained to Sarah.

“They aren’t ridiculous” Sebastian protested as they walked closer to the water. “They are healthy!”.

“Did I forget to mention that they start a five in the morning?” Y/N added as she wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso in search of body heat.

“Do you see this?” James raised his hoodie and shirt, showing his sculptured abdomen to everyone. “It makes it all worth it” He winked and took them both off. “Are you guys coming?” James asked as he stripped down to his underwear with Sebastian.

“It’s way too cold” Y/N pointed out as she cuddled closer to Harry.

“Oh please! That never stopped you before!” Sebastian yelled back. They do night dips on Lake Michigan during the summer too. They would alternate houses and spend the sizzling summer days by their pools, riding their bikes and getting ice cream shakes from Dairy Queen, but only if they weren’t traveling.

Sarah ran towards them. She always second-guessed herself and wanted to change it. She was one of those girls that always said no to everything, and tonight was the perfect night to change it. She wanted to be more adventurous and now it was a good start.

Mitch went right after her not wanting to be the odd one out.

“Do you want to go?” Y/N asked as she nuzzled her face in the crook of Harry’s neck. “We don’t have to. We can stay up here and cuddle.”

“That sounds way better than getting pneumonia” Harry chuckled as he ran his hands up her back.

“We are staying!” She yelled back at her friends. “Can we build a fire here?!”

“No! But neither can we swim at eight at night!” Sebastian yelled back so she started building it. She knew that they were going to freeze their asses as soon as they stepped out of the water. Y/N was very confident that Sebastian wouldn’t stop complaining because he was a big crybaby.

So, Harry and Y/N scouted for sticks and piled them on the ground.

“How are we lighting up this shit?” Harry said with a frown, finding an obstacle in her master plan.

“Oh, I got it” She ran up to where James had left his pants. She quickly found a lighter in the front pocket of his pants. She proudly bent down and lit up the fire.

“This is nice,” Y/N said as she sat between his legs and allowed him to wrap his arms around her as they enjoyed the warmth that the bonfire was emitting.

“It is” They could hear their friends laughing and the water being splashed around while they held each other tightly. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened today?” Harry finally asked, feeling a huge weight fall off his shoulders.

“We are” She just had no clue where to start. “I just think today isn’t the best day to do so”.

“When then?” His voice was stern and rough. It was unrecognizable to Y/N. He didn’t understand why she kept dismissing the subject. He could also feel how tense her body had gotten as soon as he touched the subject. Perhaps she was lying to him — he wondered.

“Tomorrow,” She said, “After class. I’ll pick you up” She heart had accelerated like it was about to burst out of her chest. Harry dropped the subject right away. The thought of Harry leaving and giving up on them mortified her for the rest of the night. They huddled around the fire and shared humorous stories and anecdotes about one another. But the laughs and jokes weren’t enough to take her mind away from the scenarios she kept making up in her mind. The thought of Harry leaving stayed in the back of her mind, tormenting her, all through the night.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

sorry for only saying this type of shit lately but i kinda wanna drive a car straight into a brick wall at the highest speed possible

[sleepyams]

i probably should leave social media bc everything makes me upset

[cherrysnax]

it’s probably just the depressions and the dissociative disorders but I often feel like I’m just possessing my own dead body

[jimmyclueless]

Hello 👋 🤗,

I hope you are well 🌺.

I am writing to you with a heart full of hope and faith, asking for your urgent help. My family is in great danger due to the war, and I am running a fundraising campaign to save them.

Please, could you reblog the post about my campaign on my account? Every share can make a difference in my family's life. 🙏

Note:My old Tumblr account was deactivated💔, and I need your support again♥️.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for any help you can provide. 🌹🌺

hello!

i try to avoid any potentially stressful things on this blog, since i have nothing to donate and hate the guilt of being unable to help.

this is the link to the gofundme, and its been vetted plenty,by what i saw. im glad youre getting closer to your goal and wish you safety and fortune going forward.

[dawnlitbouquet]

I had the displeasure of seeing the post in real time and I was honestly planning to just curl up in miserable silence, but I figured I may as well share some spectacularly specific quote tweets I had taken screenshots of in anticipation of the original tweet getting taken down.

[dredshirtroberts]

listen. I know my family is bad at communication and acknowledgement of receipt of Thing but when the one thing that consistently happens semi-annually is that I get fussed at for not confirming I received something, it irks me a smidge.

Like if I'm expected to always confirm "Hey I got your [communication/gift]" then why aren't they doing it back? Especially considering the communication in this instance has really actually very important information they will want to know if they want to stay in contact with me.

Like????

Even if I'd just gotten a "K" in response, like. at least it would have let me know they got the damn thing. I sent this email TWO WEEKS AGO and only one person responded - and it was practically immediate too. Like... i know folks are busy, i know shit's going on. I get it. But it would help me feel so much less like I'm suddenly a pariah in the family out of nowhere if like one of the people I'd sent this to had just responded in some way shape or form.

I'd have answered a phone call - i wouldn't have liked it, but i'd have done it. A letter in the mail to my current address even. a message in a bottle probably wouldn't get to me because i'm pretty far from the beaches of the great lakes, and also they're even farther, but like. something right?

my sister at least confirmed she got it and just forgot to respond. i imagine that's what happened with everyone else because we have the same mental illnesses and look. i do it too. but also? also?? i was hounded to respond quickly to things, i was told off every time i wasn't responding within a half hour of any communication. I was asked instantly the next time they saw me if I'd gotten it, even if i hadn't had a chance to see the thing yet.

So forgive me, family, if I'm a little peeved off that all y'all are allowed to "forget to respond" for two whole fucking weeks and then a few extra days (because it's been 2 weeks, 3 days exactly) when i can't let something sit in the mailbox for 2 days because i couldn't get to my mailbox easily while living on my own without getting a phone call or text or email that there should be something waiting in there for me.

*enraged screeching*

[lnfours]

close to you | l.n

summary: chemical override, ultraviolet, you could be mine tonight ; or having a crush is mind boggling, soul crushing and confusing, but also so exciting at the same time.

warnings: inspired by close to you by gracie abrams, friends to lovers (bc it’s my brand), pining, all the feels, reader is childhood best friends with pietra, fluff, and some language here and there

jordans notes: hi everyone! long time no see (😅) i’m slowly getting back into writing, school has been kicking my ass. i don’t think this is my best work, but i really wanted to get something out for you guys since ive been gone so long! i promise there’s more to come than just this! i hope you all are well!! sending you all my love 🤍

masterlist | listen to the playlist

before you met him, you didn’t think about the color green too often. it was one of those colors you didn’t necessarily love or hate, it was just kind of… there.

to you, it was just one of those colors where shades of it were prettier than the actual color itself. or a color you only really liked during the fall. like how, typically, people only liked the color blue during the summer.

that was until you met him.

the boy with those big, beautiful, slightly blue but slightly green, water-colored eyes. now you love the color green. obsessed over it. thought about it every second of every day. it was crazy how a simple opinion could change in a matter of seconds, all because of those stupidly pretty eyes.

You lie awake on your back, staring at the ceiling. surely it wasn’t normal to obsess over someone this much, right? especially over someone you weren’t even sure would ever feel the same.

sure, you had crushes before, and had your fair share of falling quickly and all at once. it wasn’t an unusual feeling to you, no stranger to catching feelings rather quickly.

but this time around, everything was different. everything felt more intense, more mind-boggling and confusing and pulse rising. the feeling so foreign that sometimes you wish you had never met him so you wouldn’t have fallen so hard so sudden, but deep down you were so glad that you had.

it was the little things that made you wonder what it was like to be loved by him. the subtle glances in your direction, the gentle but lingering touches. you had thought you were going crazy, reading too much into things in the beginning. over-analyzing every little thing that made your body light up with excitement.

until pietra confirmed your suspicions.

“he’s totally into you,” she said, leaning closer to your ear as you watched him from across the room, his head tilted back, nose scrunched and eyes half shut as he laughed about something max had said, which was likely something stupid, “like, one hundred percent, down bad, into you.”

you tilted your head at the blonde, “you think so?”

she scoffed, “more like know so,”

“who told you?”

“no one has to tell me anything,” she said, “i can just tell.”

you rolled your eyes at her, “p, i’ve told you a million times, he’s not into me.”

but she was right. he was one hundred percent, undoubtedly, down. fucking. bad.

ever since the moment he met you at that stupid pub with max and his group of friends, all he wanted to do was get to know you. he didn’t want it to seem obvious when he asked max about you, but he knew no matter what he did it was going to seem obvious. just from the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the night sky, he was no where near subtle.

he hated to admit it, but he had even done some lowkey instagram stalking through one of his private accounts. he had seen all the pictures of you and pietra, a life long friendship explained to him in front of his own eyes.

and every time his fingers would swipe through your account, all he could think about was how beautiful you were. how your eyes sparkled every time you smiled for the camera, how happy you looked when you genuinely laughed, and how he wished to be the reason behind the gorgeous sound forever.

he wasn’t trying to make it obvious tonight, not wanting to make it well known that he had his eyes on you for a while. but he had lost track at the amount of times you had caught him looking at you, and he swore he had even caught you looking at him first a handful of times.

so when everyone in the house decided that it was the end of the night and started filing through the door, he took it upon himself to make his way over to you. you were talking with pietra, a smile on your face as you giggled about something she had said. the brazilian woman’s eyes landed on him, to which she looked back at you and said something before you turned to look in his direction.

he smiled when your eyes met his, “hey, did you need a ride home?”

your heart threatened to leap out of your chest, “uhm, i was just gonna call an uber, you don’t have to-“

“no, no,” he said, shaking his head, “i insist, really. it’s not a big deal.”

how could you argue with him? those pretty green eyes, that smile, the face. you simply couldn’t. it was impossible. you couldn’t see the look pietra was giving you, but knowing her, you knew it was a look that said ‘go with him’.

and do you did, the cool, crisp autumn air in london suddenly making you wish you had brought a jacket. you had wished you planned for the nightly breeze, wishing you had opted for a long-sleeved shirt for the night instead of the spaghetti strap tank top you had chosen.

as you walked to the car that was parked down the street, he noticed you shivering. he saw the way you hugged yourself, your hair moving with the breeze. his curls danced in the wind and he knew if he was slightly cold, you were definitely freezing.

he tugged off the hoodie before passing it to you, the sound of the doors to the mclaren echoing before he turned to you.

“here,” he said, “it’s a little windy out, i know you’re probably freezing.”

your stomach did backflips as you took the soft black material from his hands, “oh, are you sure? aren’t you cold?”

he sent you a shrug, “i’ll live,”

there was no use arguing with him, so instead you sent him another smile in appreciation before tugging the sweatshirt over your head. it was already warm from hugging his body, and you couldn't help the way the smell of his cologne lingered in the soft material. you had to keep yourself from burying yourself in it, the feeling of being close to him without actually being close to him sending butterflies to your stomach.

the car ride was filled with comfortable silence, music softly playing in the background. he stole occasional looks over at your figure as you looked out the window, the neck of his hoodie pulled up to your face as you watched the street lights pass by. you looked beautiful in the dim light, he couldn’t help himself.

he thought about taking the long way to your house. a simple but effective way to be able to spend more time with you. however, the thought of you being confused and questioning his actions was enough for him to stay straight at the stop light instead of taking a right for the longer way.

he tried not to look disappointed when he reached your house, parking in front of it. he wondered if your roommates were home, if you’d tell them about the fact that he drove you home.

he turned the engine off, unclicking his seatbelt, “i’ll walk you up.”

you nodded, the both of you getting out of the car and walking through the dewy grass up to the wooden door. you fished for your keys in your purse, putting them into the lock before turning to look at him, “thanks for the ride,”

“anytime,” he smiled. he meant it. and you knew he meant it. he’d come get you at anytime of the day, wether it was early in the morning or late at night, he was always going to show up.

you stood there, eyes searching his face. he was so pretty to you, the brown curls that were slowly growing into a mullet to the sparkling eyes that you loved so much. the dimples in his cheeks that appeared whenever he smiled, the slight facial hair he had managed to grow, but your favorite part was the moles and freckles that covered his skin. the ones he had once complained about, but you loved the way they scattered his skin.

you dreamt of kissing each and every single one of them.

“hey, lando! long time no see!”

you both averted your attention, neither of you hearing the door open behind you. in the doorway stood your dark haired roommate, faith.

“hey,” he smiled softly, trying once again to not look disappointed from the way your moment was interrupted.

“we’re having drinks and watching movies if you wanted to join,” she smiled, ignoring the look you were sending her way.

“oh, uhm,” he started, not sure how to answer, “it’s getting kinda late, i dunno-“

“you can crash in y/n’s room, im sure she wouldn’t mind.”

what was that supposed to mean?

you looked over at him, “you don’t have to stay-“

“he’s been gone for weeks, he’s legally obligated,” she said, reaching from the doorway and grabbing both of your arms, “c’mon, liv is making martinis.”

you sighed heavily and he laughed softly at your protest that went unnoticed by her. your other roommate, olivia, stood in the kitchen.

“look who i found!” faith exclaimed excitedly.

“oh, hey guys! just in time,” she smiled, “it’s martini and movie friday!”

lando leaned over to you as the other two talked, “they do this every friday?”

you sighed again, nodding, “unfortunately,” you turned to your roommates, “we’re gonna head up to my room, actually,”

you led lando to the stairs, ignoring the playful teasing from the girls in the kitchen, “oooh!!”

“up to your room, huh?”

you shook your head, opening your bedroom door and letting him in before closing it, “‘m sorry for them, they’re… how do i put this?”

“a lot?” he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

“yeah, we can put it that way.”

he chuckled, sitting down on the bed as you put your things down. he looked around your bedroom, not much had changed since the last time he had been in it. the fairy lights dimly lit up the room, photos littered the walls. the desk that sat in the corner of the room kept your makeup bag and brushes, a mirror sitting in the middle.

he looked at your nightstand, a picture of you, him, max and pietra sitting on the wooden surface. it was a picture from miami, smiles on all of your faces. you stood in the middle, arm wrapped around his middle as you smiled for the camera, his trophy in the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your middle.

“i’m gonna change,” you said, “i might have a pair of your sweatpants somewhere if you wanted to change.”

he nodded, “yeah, that’d be great.”

you turned back to the dresser, opening drawers in search for the pair of sweatpants he leant you one day. the same day he picked you up from the failed date. the one that left you crying outside, swearing up and down that you’d never find love. despite it being in front of you this entire time.

finally finding the black material, you handed them to him, “i meant to give them back, but i just haven’t seen you,”

he shook his head. you could’ve kept them forever and he wouldn’t have minded one bit, “it’s alright,”

you grabbed your pajama bottoms from the foot of the bed, “be right back.”

he changed into the sweatpants while you were gone, still looking around your room. he smiled at the picture of you and your roommates, clearly taken at a party. you wore the prettiest smile he had ever seen, dressed in a black off the shoulder top. it was from the same night he realized he liked you in more than just a friendly way.

the door opening brought him back to reality, his eyes landing on your figure and how you were still wearing the black hoodie he had given you earlier. it brought a small smile to his face.

you noticed his eyes on you, looking down at the black hoodie, “i swear i’ll give it back once i wash it.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head, “it’s okay. it looks better on you anyways.”

you smiled, fighting the heat that was rising your cheeks but it was no use. he joined you on the bed, watching as you flipped through different things on netflix.

“you don’t have to stay, y’know,” you said, looking over at him, “if you have better things to do..”

“i don’t,” he said, turning his head to look your way, “in all honesty, there’s no where else i’d rather be.”

you sucked in a breath, your eyes dancing across his face once again. it was hard for you not to stare, not when he looked so pretty like this. back pressed against your headboard, hair slightly messy, and he looked so cozy. it made you want to wrap yourself around him, lay your head on his chest.

he did the same, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every single feature, every single imperfection that he thought was still perfect. the same ones you’d argue about, but he still always found adorable.

his voice broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you, “do you ever have something to say but can’t find the words to say it?”

your furrowed your eyebrows, “like?”

he licked his lips, his attention now fixed on his hands as he fiddled with the ring on his middle finger. you never thought he’d be the type to get shy, almost embarrassed as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“like, i dunno,” he mumbled, “i just.. i don’t know how to put it, but ever since the moment we met, i’ve found myself just.. thinking about you. thinking about what it’d be like to cross this weird, thin, little line we’ve drawn. if we both just said ‘fuck it’ and dove head first into whatever uncharted territory we’re tiptoeing around.”

his eyes met yours again as he let out a nervous breath. you hadn’t realized you had been holding yours, shock clearly written on your face which made him shake his head.

“never mind, it’s dumb-“

“lando,”

“- i knew i shouldn’t have listened to what max was going on about-“

you rolled your eyes as he kept blabbering away, talking nonsense. your body moving before your brain could comprehend what you were about to do, only catching up when your hands met his jaw and you were suddenly catching yourself a mere few inches from his face.

it was too late now, no going back.

you pulled his face closer to yours, his blabbering coming to a halt when you pressed your lips to his. his brain short circuited, you pulling away before he had the chance to kiss you back.

“‘m sorry,” you immediately apologized, “i don’t know why i did-“

it was his turn to cut you off now, grabbing your chin and pulling you back to his lips. his thumb traced along your jaw, his pointer finger sitting underneath your chin.

you kissed him back after a second of surprise, letting his free hand reach down to grab your hip, pulling you on top of his lap. your hands threaded through his curls, nails scratching his scalp.

when you both finally pulled away, all you could do was smile. giggles and chuckles echoing through the room as you both sat breathless, his nose bumping yours as he tucked a piece of stray hair away from your face.

“so we’re in agreement then, huh?” he asked.

“isn’t that obvious?” you smiled and he shook his head, letting out another boyish laugh.

“how long have you.. y’know, had feelings for me, i guess?”

“since the minute i saw you,” he confessed, “you were the most beautiful girl in the room, a smile that would make everyone stop and stare. it’s always been you, i’ve just been too scared to tell you.”

you smiled again, heart fluttering in your chest. all the dreams and wishes you spent with him on your mind, it was all finally paying off, “it’s always been you for me, too. i thought i had been way too obvious, but clearly i wasn’t obvious enough.”

“we were both too oblivious,” he said, moving more hair from your face, “but it’s okay, we’re here now.”

you were convinced your smile was never going to be wiped off your face, “kiss me again,”

“with pleasure,” he mumbled, lips finding yours once more as you melted into him.

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[eternalsunrise]

shower talk.

deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader

wc: 750 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, sexual & murder references (duh)

notes! wade brainrot is so bad idk, logan fic coming soon pls forgive me

wade often barges into the bathroom while you’re in the shower just to sit on the toilet seat and rant about the mission he just went on, or even to ask what takeout you want for dinner. couldn’t it wait until you had clothes on? sure, but he wants to talk to you now.

unexpectedly, you decide to take a page out of his playbook.

you’ve just walked in the door after your 9-5, throwing your keys and bag haphazardly across the room in frustration. you spy the familiar rumpled up red and black suit on the floor, wade was home. you had complained last week about deadpool tracking blood into the apartment after his “work.” it seemed your boyfriend had listened and obliged. if it weren’t for your bad day, the image of him cupping his crotch as he scrambled naked into the bathroom would’ve made you smile.

you hear the water still running, but you finally understand how wade feels, this can’t wait. you open the bathroom door and throw the toilet lid down, unsure if wade even heard you enter over the sound of his own voice belting hall and oates’ greatest hits.

you sit down and let out an overdramatic sigh. your boyfriend’s voice quiets down halfway through “out of touch”

“honey bear? you’re home! these stab wounds will heal in about two minutes then you can join me. i know how you feel about seeing intestines, and i don’t want to make you gag…well scratch that i do sometimes—“

“i fucking hate men.”

you hear the sound of the shower curtain opening slightly, and wade’s head peaks out, looking at you with wide eyes, “woah language, babydoll! you know degradation turns me on.” his head tilts to the side, noticing the distress written on your face “but i have a feeling this isn’t about me…”

you spare him a narrowed glance, then watch as his head disappears. the curtain closes and you hear the water hit skin again as he resumes his shower. he’s giving you time to speak. remarkable.

“you remember that guy i told you about? the one that gave me major creep vibes? and was just an all around dick?”

you get a hum in response, and you can’t see it, but you know wade is physically biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. it’s endearing in a way.

you rub your face with your hands, the memory of what you’re about to say lights the fire of anger again, “well. guess who got that promotion i was being eyed for? i’ll give you a hint, it’s not someone with a vagina! and on top of that, i saw him try to look under my skirt as i was leaving! that fuck.”

you almost regretted telling him that last part, knowing where this was going. but your mind was clouded by frustration, and the water was already turned off. the rings screech against the metal shower rod as wade throws the curtain open, reaching over your head for a towel. “okay sweet thing. where does this cock suck and fuck live?”

your eyes catch a glimpse of red turning pink as it swirled into the tub drain. you shake your head, suddenly realizing the severity of what your mercenary boyfriend was implying. “no no babe please it’s not that serious! and you just got home. not to mention if people found out, you’d get in so much trouble all because of something silly that happened to me and—“

a long finger is placed over your lips. you’re eye level with wade’s v line, partially covered by the towel now wrapped around his waist. you trail your eyes upward, locking them with the one who interrupted your rambling.

“shhh. nonsense kitten. now. you’re going to tell me this guy’s address, and i’m going to go out for…” wade uses his free arm to look at a make believe watch, “hmm, about an hour. while i’m gone, you’re going to change out of this sexy pantsuit. then have a glass of wine, and touch yourself while you think of me fondly. i’ll grab dinner on the way home. yes?”

when you nod with wide eyes in agreement, he removes his finger, bending down to meet your face, “atta girl.” he praises as his lips graze your own, kiss light as a feather. he clears his throat then, patting your cheek a few times as he stands up to walk out of the bathroom. whistling as if murder was all in a day’s work (you suppose for him it is)

you sit there stunned, wondering if you just got your coworker murdered….and why you were so turned on.

[fastandcarlos]

Best Nurse Ever : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: after a nasty crash over the weekend, lando is relying on you to help him get better again

As the door shut and you waved goodbye to Oscar, the smile on Lando’s face disappeared. Laid out on the couch, leg upright, Lando couldn’t help but stare with envy as the two of you walked through your apartment with ease, Oscar free to go outside again, whilst Lando was stuck within the same four walls. 

When he injured his leg you knew he wasn’t going to take it well, bedrest was the worst scenario Lando could’ve dreamt of, and now here he was, barely able to move himself off of the sofa without screaming in pain. 

The figure before you was one that you didn’t recognise, all his energy and enthusiasm had gone and was replaced by frustration and desperation. You were trying your best for him, doing what you could to help Lando’s recovery, but it was going to be a long way to go before he was back to his usual self. 

You walked through the apartment, sitting on the end of the sofa as you placed your hand against Lando’s foot, making sure that you were careful to not catch part of the foot that would end up causing more pain for Lando. 

“Everything good?” You asked, offering Lando a faint smile. 

His head nodded as he wore a weak smile, but you could see straight through it. Recovery was already proving to be a lot harder than Lando could have ever imagined, he was used to living life at two hundred miles an hour, and now he was barely moving at one. 

“Shall I give you some space?” You offered as Lando remained quiet. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, and with you clearly more able to move than Lando, you didn’t want to sit somewhere that you weren’t wanted. 

Lando’s head shook as he tried to encourage the smile on his face to grow, not wanting you to ever feel as if he didn’t want you around. He loved having you there, even if he hated the fact that you were having to run around after him. 

You could tell he was lost in thought still, his eyes staring down at the floor debating whatever was going on in his head to himself. “It’s going to get easier you know Lan, each day you’re already starting to make good progress.” 

“I’m not used to just sitting and doing nothing,” he sighed, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “These exercises are killing me, usually they’re like a tame warm up for a workout.” 

“I know it’s frustrating, but that’s what’s helping you heal,” you reminded him, reaching out to take a hold of your hand. “Everyone is here to help you; they care and want to see you get better.” 

“I hate it,” Lando huffed, “I’m the one supposed to be taking care of you.” 

Your head shook as Lando spoke, “we’re a team and we take care of each other. It’s far from ideal to be injured, especially with how fast paced you usually are, but we’ve just got to crack on. Sure, it’s a little bump in the road, but it doesn’t mean everything just comes to a stop.” 

“How do you manage to make even this sound positive?” 

“Because we can’t change it,” you chuckled, moving closer towards Lando. “There’s no point sitting and dwelling on something you can’t change; we’ve just got to try and be positive about what comes next.” 

“Thank you,” Lando whispered, stretching his leg out slightly to try and wake it back up again. “I know there are some pretty cool nurses at the hospital, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re the best nurse ever.” 

Your eyes rolled at Lando’s compliment, nudging your hand against his other leg. He chuckled back at you, knowing exactly how you were going to react before he even said anything, never failing to catch you out with his cheeky remarks. 

“You’re going to heal and be alright Lando,” you assured him. 

“I know, I just wish I could be alright now, not weeks down the line,” he frowned, squeezing against your hand. “I need to remember to walk before I start running though.” 

You nodded in agreement, “you need to stop being so hard on yourself, these things happen.” 

Lando knew that you were right, despite how stubborn he was. He didn’t ask to get injured, but there was very little he could do about it now. “The first race is on Saturday; do you think we could do something? I don’t feel like sitting and watching it knowing that I can’t be there to complete.” 

You immediately nodded, anticipating this from Lando. As the build-up for after the summer was starting, Lando was finding it harder to listen to the headlines and watch the videos knowing that he wasn’t able to be there and be part of it. 

“What sort of thing did you have in mind for us to do?” 

“I was thinking cuddles and pretending that only we exist.” 

“We can do that,” you laughed, watching his eyes light up. “I’m sure that Oscar would still like to know that you’re cheering for him though. The constructors is still on, and regardless you’ve been a part of getting the team there.” 

“I’ll text him,” Lando promised you, “but I can’t bring myself to watch knowing that someone else is driving my car. I only want to be involved in F1 when I can be part of it, I don’t want to watch it knowing that I’m just going to sit here feeling jealous of everyone else.” 

A sympathetic smile appeared on your face, “let’s spend that time focusing on your recovery instead and getting you back there even quicker.” 

“I’d like that,” Lando mused, watching as you stood up, moving to sit beside Lando instead, allowing your hand to brush through his messy hair in front of his face. 

“I’m proud of you for handling this so well, I can’t begin to imagine how tricky this is,” you told him. “I’m going to be right here with you getting you through the next few weeks, you’re going to be sick of the sight of me nagging you.” 

Lando’s head shook in protest, “I could never get sick of the sight of you, being at home with you is the only pro of having this stupid injury.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you chuckled, as Lando nodded, assuring you that that was how it was intended. “I can’t believe an injury is what it’s taken for me to get you all to myself.” 

“I’m always right by your side,” Lando assured you, “only now it means that I get to annoy you much more than usual.” 

“You’re right...you are pretty annoying,” you teased. 

Lando’s eyes went wide, “hey...I’m injured, you’re supposed to be being nice to me.” 

“I’m always nice to you Lan.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗