#then why did he leave will alone all of s3

[freedelusionshere]

Totally agree about S4 needing to be Syd’s POV, her thought processes in particular. About what has happened to her and what is happening now to inform the choices she will make going forward.

I had just rewatched that scene as well! (For different reasons, trying to figure out what she was making and if Carmy was trying to draw it in Aplolgies.)

But, to your previous point about slowing things down. Tina and Syd are up past 1:00 AM working on this dish and it took several steps for Syd to not be wasteful which meant slowing it down. Tina is having fun but is tired and wants to wrap it up. Syd goes all in to her own detriment! (Her dad brings this up as well about “the thing”).

After the S2 finale, Carmy tells her he left her alone and it will never happen again. Syd was out throwing up in the alley and having flashbacks of the tickets coming out. It was massively stressful (it also mirrors Carmy telling Sug he threw up before service but “kinda liked it”. I don’t think Syd does at all.)

She did it without him. He makes good on not leaving her alone in S3, but speeds everything up even more. He even yells things aren’t happening fast enough. Because he’s known for being the fastest at this kind of stuff, it shows him in flashback and how Luca admired it and Shapiro couldn’t keep up. He ends up breaking himself and Syd plays it cool but we know on the inside she’s not okay, either.

Carmy couldn’t be Chef David, thankfully. But what is he without being “the best” and having people look to him? I don’t think he knows yet.

Syd is obviously “the one “, and he needs to come through on the commitment he made to her in S1 and collaborate with her.

We really need to know why Syd is putting up with this. And while Carmy fucks up, that can’t all go on him, she knows what she’s doing and calls herself his accomplice.

We know she’s drawn to the idea of a bigger family and that Carmy inspired her, but I know they’re going to make Syd prioritize what she wants from this in S4. Syd takes care of her dad. Syd takes care of everyone but Syd.

What my shipper heart wants of course is for Carmy to wake the fuck up and realize that taking care of Syd will give him a different kind of meaningful purpose, and that taking care of people and community together will heal them both.

Self-care in community and what that looks like versus individualism? Marcus and Tina are showing growing and able to take on more. Do Carmy or Syd have to do it all? The restaurant Elske featured on the show is closed for a Winter break right now.

When the mentor is a lesson: we all deserve respect

Prior to season 3 of The Bear, I wrote Lessons from a mentor: every second counts about the parallels between Sydney and Chef Andrea Terry. While we don't spend much time with Chef Terry in The Bear, its clear that she is presented as a foil to Chef David Fields who appears throughout seasons 1-3 as one of Carmy's main abusers and an antagonist on the show.

Given Sydney's clear parallels with Fields' foil, Chef Terry, I've been thinking about contrasts made by the show between Sydney and Chef Fields and how these serve to highlight the path that Carmy should be choosing as EC of The Bear.

For me, the primary differences between Syd and Fields have to do with respect, namely who and what is worthy of it. Below are some specific contrasts made in the course of seasons 1 to 3 between the two of them in this regard:

Wasting food, time and labour

The wasting of food encouraged by Chef David Fields is seen most starkly in season 3.

Above: Chef Fields getting Carmy to bin exorbitant amounts of food he deems not perfect (screenshots from 3x01 Tomorrow).

Sydney knows that you shouldn’t waste food. In season 1, we saw her refusing to throw out her cola-braised short ribs even though Carmy’s view was that the dish wasn’t ready for service. Instead, Sydney gives her extra plate to a patron at The Beef, so that her food does not go to waste.

Above: Carmy cock-blocking Syd's dish from service and Sydney not letting it go to waste (screenshots from 1x06 Ceres). Below: Syd explaining to Carmy why her spare dish ended up with a patron.

So what does avoiding food waste have to do with respect? In giving the extra plate of her ribs to a patron, Sydney showed respect for the time and labour she invested in developing and cooking her dish. She is also showing respect for the labour and resources that went into growing its ingredients: the cow that would ultimately become the beef short rib (a single cow can take approximately 17,520 pounds of feed, 33,160 litres of water and 1-2 years to raise before its fit for slaughter), the rice that had to be sewn, grown and harvested before it turned into risotto, the aromatics like garlic, onion and carrot that make up the base of the sauce and stock, which take months to grow in the first place. I know the phrase "do you think X just grows on trees?" is meant to indicate something that is freely available, but any person who's successfully grown anything edible will tell you that it takes time, effort and work for that fruit to grow.

Below: picking cucumbers and strawberries at my in-laws' place. My father-in-law is a resolute gardener and tends to his fruit and veggie beds everyday: weeding, applying his own homemade compost, fending off pests, harvesting, irrigating... growing food is no joke!

When Fields and Carmy insist on throwing out dishes that aren’t “perfect”, they devalue all of the above. In an instant, they erase the months - in some cases years - that were given to create ingredients. They make invisible the creative energy, time and even love that went into developing the dishes in the first place. They also contribute to a work culture where the jump between devaluation of labour and time, to devaluation of workers themselves is small and ever-shrinking.

Devaluation of people

Once you start devaluing workers - the people themselves - you are well on your way to cementing a fascist work culture.

A precise definition of fascism is hard to pin down and its meaning differs slightly depending on who you speak to. Generally speaking, fascism is marked by dictatorial or autocratic control by a single leader, suppression of opposition, vehement fear and policing of difference (which makes fascist regimes almost always racist ones), and subsequent glorification of the nation over the individual (this nationalism is also almost always tied up with race). Does this all sound familiar? It should. There's a certain orange cheeto and his horde of ghouls that have recently done this fascist dance right into a second term at the White House.

But I digress. Back to The Bear.

Chef David's kitchen at Empire was a fascist one. He ran it like a dictator. He did not allow his staff to share any views on the food that differed from his own (recall him mocking Carmy for even taking the time to silently think about Fields' completely changing his paupiette of hamachi dish in 3x01 Tomorrow: "Just take your time thinking about that. Just wait longer for that to process."). He had such disregard and disdain for his staff that he did not hesitate to kick a chef out of his kitchen over a broken sauce (recall 1x02 Hands) or tell Carmy that he "should be dead" in the same episode. You can't get much more dehumanising than this shit.

Below: Chef Fields being a heinous, abusive POS (screenshot from 1x02 Hands)

Given the close relationship between fascism and racism, its no wonder that aspects of white supremacy culture also leech into Chef David's kitchen. I've written here about the role of whiteness in Carmy’s racialisation as an Italian-American man. That meta also discusses Tema Okun’s work on white supremacy culture and how it manifests in organisations and workplaces. Okun noted the below identifying characteristics of organisational, white supremacist culture, including (but not limited to):

perfectionism;

either/or & binary thinking; and

a sense of urgency.

In The Bear, these characteristics are on full display at Empire (as well as in Carmy's kitchen in The Bear during season 3). This is so much the case that Carmy has sense of urgency tattooed across his knuckles (in the form of "SOU").

In contrast, Sydney was the first to advocate for a change in how they run things at The Beef. She wanted to break from the abusive patterns she had experienced in the past working at fine dining establishments and she asserts this all the way back in 1x03 Brigade during that alley chat between her and Carmy (which is still my favourite scene between the two of them - yes even more than them screwing under that wonky table with nothing wrong with it lmao).

Unlike Fields, Sydney recognises the humanity in her coworkers. She does not devalue them. She encourages them to take their time and get things right.

Below left: Fields terrorising Carmy to "go faster motherfucker" (screenshot from 1x02 Hands). Below right: Sydney gently reassuring Tina as she adjusts to working as a sous chef "Take your time, chef" (screenshot from 3x03 Doors).

Where Chef Fields refuses to compromise on a dish, Sydney provides suggestions to help her team improve on ideas that they've come up with themselves. Recall how Fields dismisses Carmy's hamachi, zucchini and blood orange dish (before stealing it himself) in 3x01 Tomorrow. In 3x05 Children, Sydney spots Tina working on a cauliflower and brussel sprout dish and instead of berating her about the dish or her technique, she listens to Tina's thoughts about wanting to support a local grower and offers a suggestion for how she might change her plating. In short, where Chef Fields dictates, Sydney collaborates. The former refuses to recognise - to respect - the people he works with and their ideas while the latter does the opposite: she recognises her coworkers as whole human beings worthy of respect and encourages them to think independently, nurturing the ideas they bring with them to work.

Below left: Fields turning Carmys' dish three shades of beige in 3x01 Tomorrow. Below right: Sydney mentoring Tina (your honour, I love them) in 3x05 Children.

Sydney's deep care for her team is never more apparent than in her concern for Marcus, particularly after his mother's death. She takes the time after a supremely chaotic Friends and Family night to not only support Carmy but to also call Marcus and check in on him. Sydney is the only one on the team to enquire after Marcus' welfare the following morning (when everyone else was too busy asking about fucking Claire /vom) and she takes the time to help Marcus when it comes time for him to sort through his mother's belongings.

Below left: Sydney calling Marcus to let him know he has The Bear's support (screenshot from 3x01 Tomorrow). Below middle: Sydney asking the only question I actually wanted the crew to answer following Friends and Family (screenshot from 3x02 Next). Below right: Sydney and Marcus watch on as removalists take his mother's furniture out of his home (screenshot from 3x05 Children)

Contrast the above with Carmy's experience of grief while at work at Empire under Chef Fields. Fields had created such a culture of fear in his kitchen that when Carmy finds out about Mikey's death at work, it appears that he tells no one and continues cooking. He even apparently burns his hand but continues to work through it (he has no gloves on before the call from Natalie in 3x01 Tomorrow but is seen wearing a glove on one hand as he plates Sydney's favourite dish following the call).

Below left: Carmy's hands, plating hamachi with fennel soubise before he finds out Mikey has died. Below right: A grief-stricken Carmy continues to work with a gloved right hand as he deviates from Chef Field's orders and retakes his hamachi dish (screenshots from 3x01 Tomorrow).

No one should have to work under the conditions that Carmy did at Empire. They were abusive, toxic and ultimately, in Carmy's words, "made [him] very, probably mentally ill." This is fascism: where people are treated as cogs in service of the machine - replicants (as Richie likes to call them - see @freedelusionshere reblog of Chaos and Consistency for more on this) that serve no other function than churning out products for consumption: their grief, their love, their humanity be damned.

In You love taking care of people: Fine Dining in the Time of Late Stage Capitalism, I wrote about how colonialism and the wealth it generated gave colonising nation-states the time and resources to develop food cultures that they would then proclaim as the epitome of global "fine dining." Colonialism itself was (and continues to be) driven by racist dehumanisation: the devaluing of Indigenous and Global South peoples to the point that they could be used as slave labour and their resources stolen. Colonialism's dehumanisation also necessarily involved devaluation of the cultures of the colonised, including their foodways. This is another point of difference between Chef Fields and Sydney.

Devaluation of foodways

I don't think its a coincidence that the writers of this show had Chef FIelds turn Carmy's hamachi dish into literally the whitest plate I've seen on The Bear. I've noted here that originally, the plate featured the colours of the Italian flag (green, white and red) - indicative of Carmy's culinary ancestry - but that gets wiped and replaced by whiteness once Fields swoops in and steals the dish. I think this was a deliberate choice by the writers to indicate Fields' allegiance to the old guard of fine dining - where the food cultures of white Europeans are valorised above all else (and before you say anything, yes Italians are racialised as white but that hasn't always been the case - see my meta here on this).

The show then makes purposeful distinctions between Fields' preferences and views as compared to Sydney's when it comes to food. Some notable examples are below:

Chef Fields hates black pepper - the spice that Christopher Columbus was trying to find in India and which ended up sending him to the Americas instead. Sydney loves pepper. It features in her cola-braised short ribs as well as in a recipe she was workshopping during 1x08 Braciole.

Above left: Sydney's recipe for cola-braised short ribs includes 1tsp of black pepper. (screenshot from 1x08 Braciole). Above middle: Carmen on Fields’ hatred of the most commonly traded spice in the world: “He hates black pepper for some reason I'll never understand.” (Screenshot from 3x10 Forever). Above right: Sydney's notebook as she workshops a recipe at home in 1x08 Braciole: “more…pepper?”

We also see Fields berating Carmy for the number of components he has in an early version of the hamachi dish in 3x01 Tomorrow. He dismissively compares the dish to nachos. This bullshit rubbed me so furiously the wrong way because of its racism and classism. Nachos were created in the 1940s in northern Mexico, near the border and are now ubiquitous in America as an affordable and much loved snack. The original dish featured fried corn tortilla chips, Colby cheese and pickled jalapenos - a mix of ingredients that have their origins in Indigenous food cultures, as well as Mexico and the United States, reflecting the nature of cultural exchange at the border (there is also the fact that that border was imposed on communities that were already established in the region. i.e. they didn't cross the border, the border crossed them). The original nacho dish also uses ingredients that were economically affordable. This remains the case today.

So when Fields compares Carmy's dish to nachos, what he's implying is that the food is "common" and not elevated or refined enough to be served by Empire. This sentiment has its roots in a history of racism and classism. In Colonization, Food and the Practice of Eating, Dr Linda Alvarez notes that when the Spanish colonised the Americas, they considered Indigenous foods - like tortillas - "famine food" - to only be consumed if European food was not available to eat.

Above: Chef David Fields being a racist and classist sack of shit (screenshot from 3x01 Tomorrow).

In stark contrast to Fields' bullshit is Sydney who loves and respects food, period: whether its being served at Empire or Michael Jordan's Steakhouse. Recall her chat with Marcus in 1x08 Braciole and her wish to open a spot that would make the second-best bacon on Earth (because, well, how could she unseat Jordan? lol).

Below: Sydney and Marcus chatting about her dream spot (screenshots from 1x08 Braciole)

So, in conclusion:

Chef Fields is a fascist, regarded with no love by anyone (as far as we've been shown on The Bear anyway). Sydney is not a fascist. She gives grace and respect wherever she can. She honours people in their wholeness. So be like Sydney and resist fascism: in your homes, in your workplaces and in your government. Now, more than ever.

[chirpsythismorning]

One thing I love about twelvegate is that it easily explains why Henry picked Billy to torment them in the first place. Because in doing so he was also mocking the truth right under El's nose...

Billy aka William

[mynamessophiaa]

misunderstanding - rafe cameron

( this is like the episode where rafe talking about sofia and “not living with a pogue” scene but w reader )

warnings: barley any except a bit of angst, use of Y/N

a/n: this is not completely accurate since i have infact not watched s3 or s4 so i just use clips ive found to write this story..

You and rafe have been talking for around 5 months, you met him 6 months ago and everything seemed to be going good. He normally spent his nights at your house, playing about and watching movies, you really liked him. And he seemed to like you, right now your at a party, rafe had invited you and ofc you came. You’ve been looking for him and soon look into a room and see him, you were about to walk to him when you hear his friend ask “so what’s the deal with you and Y/N, i swear she lives with you or you live with her” And obviously you stopped to see if rafe would speak goodly about you..

“me and Y/N? oh we just talk that’s about it, we are casual, a few hook ups” he says with a chuckle at the last bit. “and i’d never live with a pogue”

Your heart ached at his words, you thought you were getting somewhere, you really liked him. You held your tears back and walked into the middle of the party, music played but it sounded muffled, you looked around, trying to find the exit, you couldn’t be here anymore. Your eyes caught the door and you went to walk towards it but you felt a hand pull you back against its chest, the cologne filled your nose and you instantly knew who it was, rafe.

“where you going baby?” he ask looking down at you “i thought you were staying and hanging with me”

“i just don’t feel like being here” you replied, lying a bit, knowing if you mentioned what you heard you’d break down.

He gives a confused look “you texted me saying you were exited to come and see me baby”

All you do is nod, a lump appeared in your throat, and he could tell something was up

“Y/N? what’s wrong, tell me, talk to me” he says reaching out and grabbing your hand, you pull away quickly, causing him to frown,

“okay. what’s the deal with you?”

“did you mean what you said?” you asked, voice breaking.

he furrowed his eyebrows “what did i say baby?”

you look at him before looking down, fiddling with your fingers “when you said we were just casual… a few hook up” you say your throat tightening, “and you’d never live with a pogue.” you spat the last bit.

his face dropped, his chest raised heavily, he knew it, he knew he shouldn’t of said that shit but his pride got the best of him, and he could possibly lose the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him.

“baby… i didn’t mean those things ok?” he said raising his hands to his chest, pointing at himself “i messed up i know, i don’t mean it baby please” he begs.

“if you didn’t mean it, why did you say it rafe?!”

“my pride, it got the best of me okay!? i really like you, Y/N, like really really, and i think of you more than just a casual hook up, your the only person who i’ve opened up to and i can’t lose you”

You listen carefully, he seemed honest but the hurt took over the guilt, why did i even feel guilt in the first place, you said to yourself, he made the mistake not me.

“rafe, those things hurt me, they really did, i dont know how im supposed to forgive and forget it-“

he cuts you off, grabbing your face gently in his hands, his ring coldly sitting on your jawline, “i’m not saying to forget it, and not fully forgive me, but i’m asking for a second chance, i’ll prove my loyalty to you, just please don’t leave me alone.”

your heart started aching even more at his words, guilt building up in your stomach, almost as if you feel your gonna throw up.

“rafe…”

he looks at you, almost pleadingly, you’ve never seen him like this, he never showed emotion like this around you. It hurt you.

rafe took your hands, letting go of your face. “can we please go home” he says talking about his house, “we can talk more there, please”

you look at him, not finding the words to use so you just nod, he gives a look of comfort before dragging you gently to his car.

the ride was silent, not an awkward one, a comforting one, his hand rested on your thigh as you hummed to a song playing on the radio, he stole glances at you from time to time, making sure your not close to breaking down, it hurt him how sad you were, even worse because he was the reason.

a few moments later, he pulls up in the driveway and hops out the car, no matter the argument or how mad he is, he will always open the door for you, so that’s what he does, going round to the passenger side, you give him a quick smile as a thank you, before hopping out.

Once you reach the door to the house, he unlocks it and lets you both in, he chucks the keys on the shelf by the door and turns to you.

“please tell me you believe me when i say i didn’t mean those things, that i let my pride take over”

you think for a second, he’s never been this emotional, never been the pleading.

“i do believe it, but it’s hurt rafe, you know that right?”

he nods quickly, “i know i know baby, but ill do anything, anything. for you to forgive me” he says looking at you, trying to make eye contact, even though he hates it. you see him making eye contact and your heart melts.

you nod. “mhm..”

“just tell me what to do and i’ll do that for you.”

“i just want you to tell your friend that you didn’t mean it, that i actually mean something to you.”

he nods “i’ll do it when i see him. i promise. but i just want you to know i want what we have. i want it to be official. i love you so much it physically hurts” he says, you looked shocked. you’ve never said those 3 words before and it shocked you even more he was the first to say them. “i can’t imagine my life without you and your the first women i’ve truly loved and id do anything for. im a dickhead for saying those things and you have every right to be mad. i don’t care if your a pogue ok? i want you, you.” he repeated.

you look at him lovingly, believing his words. you nod. “i believe you, and i love you too.”

he smiles as you say those words, he grabs your face and crashes your lips together, it was a long, affectionate kiss, but soon turned rough and suggestive. he pulled away with a mischievous look in his eyes, he quickly grabbed your thighs and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before moving to the bedroom

“i’m gonna show you how much i love you, how much i appreciate you.”

yall this lowk bad and i took about 7 breaks cuz i was on call making this 🫣🫣 and this idea came from @starkeynation so all cred to her for the idea!!!!

[neonvqmpire]

we need to talk about how close aziraphale actually was to saying no to the metatron after the kiss and why:

he's extremely conflicted and keeps looking out of the window to crowley in the car.

he previously said "nothing last forever" when crowley told him that he cant leave the bookshop (crowley also meant "you cant leave me"; the bookshop is a metaphor for their lives on earth for him) and he states exactly this as the first objection here. obviously the metatron shuts it down by appointing muriel as the next owner of the shop.

now he's stuck between wanting to be with the being he loves & who he now knows loves him back and his deep inner need/duty to do good. crowley's confession and kiss clearly made him question his decision and change his mind because here is when he actually decides for both.

you can see how he does not want to join heaven alone. he keeps looking out the window when asked if he needs anything to take with him.

he desperately needs crowley there but he can not have him so he lies and says no.

i this moment he tries to say no to heaven one last time. he starts saying "i think i-" and then looks out to crowley one last time. he's really considering crowleys offer here. i think the decision that he makes instead is actually FOR crowley as well.

he decides to join heaven not as he was previously convinced by the metatron to do good and rule together with crowley (which he did not want to do) but instead to go and keep a close eye on heaven FOR crowley.

aziraphale isnt stupid, he remembers what crowley said about heaven being toxic.

i think the confession and kiss makes him question heaven. crowley, who fell for asking questions made aziraphale question heaven too. something that he was always too scared to do. he has started to rebel in his head. he realised that something has to be up with heaven/the metatron bc they offered him the position. he decided to go but with a completely different purpose than before. 

he puts on a smile and it seems fake because it is. he wants to appear like he hasn't just fundamentally changed his position and decided to go against the one force who he was always afraid of yet dependent on. 

this is sth extremely relatable to someone who is queer and autistic and was raised by very conservative family members. even the thought of supporting queer people felt rebellious, terrifying but also extremely exiting and powerful because i knew it was the right thing to believe. 

aziraphale was being so brave here. he saw a glimpse of the life he wants and can have and choose to join heaven anyway to fight for this life. he is convinced it will not be possible for them to be together if heaven is still kicking about and making him feel powerless and scared. he wants to secure their future by changing or possibly even destroying the system from the inside out. 

unfortunately he didn't have time to tell crowley about his change of intention and i think it really breaks his heart. crowley would probably not understand it anyway. they still have a lot to work through and learn but ultimately they will find each other again. they always do.

i am so so interested to see where and how they meet again in s3, if we get it. after everything i just really want them to be happy and to spend their eternity together. they deserve it after all they went through.

[mentally-gone002]

keep him safe

summary: y/n brings spencer to her apartment after noticing him acting differently. 

warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction (i think), blood, guns

a/n: this takes place a few weeks after S3 Ep12 (3rd life) where that kid is killed in front of spencer… and yeah!!! also i apologize cuz i don’t know what addiction is like so hence idk how to write it but i tried… pls enjoy🤓

————————————————————————

7:33 pm

outside the building housing the BAU office it was dark and quiet, only filled with the sound of the few cars that passed and loud chirping of cicadas. it was peaceful compared to the past case that only ended hours before this. 

everyone on the BAU team filed into the building to settled into their desks and get a few files of work completed before they went home to repeat the process the next day. some finished their work quicker; the some was hotch, prentis, rossi, jj and garcia. they all left with quick and tired goodbyes to the remaining members of the team until the only tree left were y/n and spencer and morgan. 

when morgan did leave he shot a suggestive look at the two youngest agents. “have fun tonight you two.” he smirked. y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. 

spencer was working slow for once, his eyes not taking in all the words of the page at the quick rate they usually do. his fingers tapped at his desk and made the pen in his dominant hand flip and twist. he was fidgeting more than he usually did. 

y/n noticed this of course. because she was just one bullpen away from him and because they were close friends… and she was a profiler. she knew when something was picking his brain, good or bad. he had been like this for a few weeks and today was the day she would step in. because she knew spencer. he wouldn’t reach out until he was too far into a hole he had dug for himself.

she watched him for half an hour in between work until she swiveled in her seat, turning it until her legs were free from beneath the desk. she stood up and walked around to his desk. 

“knock, knock.” she interrupted the silence with an accompanying wrap of her knuckles against his desk. she didn’t want to startle him, as he seemed to be on edge already. “you doing alright with that?” the question she asked was gentle while she leaned her hip against the desks edge and stared down at the brown haired man as he stared back. 

he shrugged. “i can’t really focus on it.” spencer confessed with a tired voice. his eyes had early signs of bruising underneath them that she caught onto before they disappeared behind his thin fingers that pressed into the corners of his eyes in exhaustion. 

a sigh flowed from her nose. she dropped her head to the side and her cheek smushed against her shoulder. “you okay?” she was concerned for him; he’d been quieter than usual on the way home. 

spencer nodded. “yeah, yeah. i’m okay, just- just can’t focus.” he told her as he slumped back into his chair. his pen was abandoned on the open file on the table. he stared blankly at the case file, almost in horror. 

she looked with him at the papers with the inside of her cheek held between her teeth, thinking to herself prior to flipping the file closed. spencer sat up a little with his mouth opening but she shushed him. “you can work on it tomorrow, okay? we’re gonna go home.” y/n said to him with a tone that told spencer not to fight her in this. 

“you said ‘we’ and ‘home’ in the same sentence. i don’t understand.” spencer followed her with his brown eyes, spinning himself in his chair to keep them on her as y/n walked back to her desk, switching off her lamp and grabbing her purse. 

she looked at him over her computer, turning it off with the almost unheard click of a button. “you’re gonna stay with me tonight.” she answered him simply. 

he furrowed his brows. “why?” 

“because i don’t trust you to be alone tonight.” 

spencer swallowed thickly with how her eyes bore into his own. he could have, no, should have known that y/n would have caught onto his behavior. 

a case from weeks ago had taken a toll on him. seeing a kid shot in front of his eyes after he tried everything he could to convince jack, the father of lindsay who was kidnapped, not to shoot the teen holding her captive. the image scarred him; how the bullet exploded the boys head from the close range, how the blood splattered on the walls, and how he stood there in shock because he didn’t know what to do. 

“i’m okay.” he swore to her. 

she pursed her lips as she walked back to his desk. “don’t fight me on this,” her voice was low in a whisper. “i want to help you, spencer.” she reached down to place her hand on the back of his where it rested on the desk. 

spencer swallowed thickly once more before he sighed, looking away. “okay.” when her hand retracted away from his, he stood up and put his bag over his shoulder. 

y/n smiled at him and started walking with spencer on her heels out of the glass doors of the BAU office, into the elevator and to her car. 

9:07 pm

y/n smiled as she unlocked the door to her apartment and walked inside with her hand on the nob until spencer was all the way inside. 

he’d been in her apartment multiple times which meant there was no awkward moments as he took off his shoes and hung his bag on the rack beside the door. 

“are you hungry?” she asked him as she entered her small kitchen and he went to sit at the island. 

“i’m alright… just tired.” he told her with his elbows leaning on the counter. he blinked slowly. 

“okay.” she looked him over with sad eyes. “spencer?” he looked up at her at the utter of his name. “if there’s something wrong you can talk to me.” 

her statement had him nodding with his head lowered and his eyes closed. 

she was the one person he actually told about his addiction problem that had taken him over almost few months ago, and she’d helped him stop. but now he had the urge to use again, and that’s why she brought him home with her. that was why. 

y/n padded out from behind the kitchen island to spencer and her arms went around his middle. her chest was against his curved back from his posture from leaning over the counter a bit and she rested her cheek on his shoulder blade. he was warm through his clothes and his heartbeat was loud, but slow in y/n’s ear.

“thank you.” the words were whispered by spencer. 

“you’re welcome.” y/n whispered back to him. her thumb on one hand slowly trailed up and down where it was against the front of his waist, almost the middle of his abdomen. “i just want you to be safe.” 

“i know.” he breathed heavily due to how her touch was so kind and soft, unlike their job. 

a comfortable silence settled over y/n’s apartment as they stayed where they were at the kitchen island. spencer was in the verge of sleep from how at ease he was, and not a single image of the long past case was in his head, until she pulled away, then it all came rushing back to him. but he wasn’t going to tell her. there was a part of him that knew she knew. 

she always knew. 

“cmon, it’s late.” y/n ran a hand down his back as she stepped away from the proximity, straying to go towards her bedroom. 

spencer stared after her and decided to follow once she disappeared from his sight through the door separating her own space from the open concept of her apartment. 

her bedroom was homy. soft colors made up her bed, curtains and walls, while her dresser and nightstands were a darker shade. spencer liked it. 

“you remember where your clothes are right?” she called from where she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. 

“yeah.” spencer answered. his socked feet carried him to her dresser. the top right drawer was his. it had a set of pajamas and work clothes in it. 

it was almost like spencer and y/n were in a relationship. they had the details of one. with the clothes of the other at each of their houses, the secret looks they passed, some what harmless flirting. they were very close. so close that almost all of their coworkers were waiting for the day they finally got together; they’ve been waiting for three years. 

spencer quickly changed out of his work clothes and into pajamas before slipping into y/n’s bed. he was going to go sleep on her couch but that would only result in her dragging him back to her room. he laid in his left side, facing her empty space with eyes on her pillow u til she joined him, almost coming nose to nose with him. 

“i’m glad you didn’t go to the couch.” she told him. 

his mouth tugged up in the corners. “i decided against it. i knew you’d just drag me back here.” he said it through a yawn. 

“you know me too well.” she hummed. 

“i do.” 

silence. 

“thank you, again.” spencer muttered. 

y/n nodded against her pillow. “it’s my job to look out for people. you just happen to be the most important people i do that for.” 

spencer nodded slowly at her words, smiling softly again. he absentmindedly fidgeted with the top of her comforter, twisting and pulling at the seam between his fingers anxiously. he was at ease with her, but that feeling in his body kept flashing over him. the part of him that wanted to use dilaudid kept resurfacing. 

y/n frowned. “hey,” her hand snaked out from under the comforter to brush through his soft hair, “where’d you go?” she searched his eyes with her own for the previously smiling spencer. he must have gone away for now. 

spencer shrugged with a shaky inhale. “i don’t know…” he blinked his eyes closed, hard. it’s what he did when he wanted to keep himself from crying. he sniffled a little, still toying with the seam of the comforter. 

y/n’s heart ached for him. she’d seen a lot of things that made her feel many different ways, but seeing spencer like this made her want to cry. 

spencer opened his eyes and looked at her. they were glossed over, creating an almost pretty sheen over the amber-brown color. the tear that slipped from one of his eyes made her move the hand she had in his hair to wipe it away. “i almost started using again…” his voice was quivering. “i just don’t want to see that dead kid anymore.”

y/n moved closer to his body under the covers. her hand rested on the side of his face, thumb drawing a gentle line back and forth over his cheekbone. “i know you don’t, babe.” she whispered. “what can i do for you?” 

spencer shrugged immediately after your question registered with him. “i just need distractions.” 

she nodded subtly. her hands retracted from his face as she rolled over to grab a book off her nightstand. “can i read to you?” 

spencer was quick to nod prior to moving closer to her. his arms were acting as a pillow for his head as he remained laying on his side, only inches away from her as she opened her book. 

she started reading, which made spencer’s mind go blank as he listened. he liked how slow she was with the words, taking her time. sometimes she’d stutter, or ask him how to pronounce something. it was a nice change from how he read. 

y/n paused her reading to take a quick glance down at spencer, seeing how he had curled into himself and was now breathing steadily with a few soft snores mixed in. she smiled to herself and closed the book, putting it back on her nightstand and switched off the light.

[morgana-larkin]

Hii! I just want to say, I really enjoy your style of writing!!

And also perhaps request :)

I’ve been thinking about the Party ep from S3. Maybe reader attends with Melissa, and ends up having to take care of a drunk Mel, could be fluffy or smutty whichever hehe.

I am thinking though established relationship, either wife or girlfriend :))

Hopefully you like this concept and can put your own twist on it!

Thank you 🥰

Hello! I can’t believe I’ve gotten 3 prompts for this specific episode and I love all the different ideas! Here’s your request! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

My Lovely Fiancé

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, breast kink, strap on

Words: 3.2k

“So tonight, I’m your protector? Making sure you don’t do anything stupid while drunk.” You ask her while you sit on her desk and she nods.

“You know I can do crazy things when I’m drunk.”

“Like propose to me?” You ask and she smiles.

“That was only stupid because I wanted to ask you the right way.”

“And you did, and now we're getting married next summer.”

“Who knew that my miracle would be a woman.” Melissa tells you and you wrap your arms around her. She gets in between your legs and kisses you.

“And who knew that Melissa Schemmenti would be soft when in love.”

“Zip it you.” She says and then kisses you again.

“Lovebirds, I’m closing the school in 15 minutes.” Mr Johnson says and you pull away from each other.

“We should go, we gotta get ready.” You tell her and you both walk out of the school and to Melissa’s car.

You both get home and change into your outfits for Janine’s party.

“Barb wants to get there an hour early as we know Janine will need help.” Melissa tells you and you nod.

“Well you can go early but I’ll be there a little late.” You tell her and she tilts her head at you.

“And why are you going to be late?”

“I have to go pick up my outfit from the tailor, remember? It’s been ready for 2 days but I haven’t been able to pick it up yet.”

“Ok, I have to go, Barb is almost here to pick me up.” She says after checking her phone. “She was going to drive us but I guess I’ll meet you there.” She says and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll see you there, I love you.” You tell her.

“I love you too.” She says and then you both go downstairs. You head to you and Melissa’s car just as Barb pulls up.

“Aren’t you coming to the party dear?” Barb asks as Melissa walks to the car.

“I gotta go get my outfit from the tailors but I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You tell her. “Keep an eye on my wild fiance until I get there.” You tell her and she nods.

“You know I can hear you.” Melissa complains and you smile.

“I know.” You say and then get in the car and drive to get your outfit.

You pull up to the party about 30 minutes late and knock on the door to see Mr. Johnson blocking it.

“Mr. Johnson let me in.” You tell him.

“Do I know you?” He asks.

“Do you want me to punch you in the face? Melissa taught me how to do it properly.” You tell him and then he moves out of the way. “Thank you.” You walk in as the party looks to be in full swing and you look around for Melissa or even Barb. You run into Janine who looks to be stressed out. “Hey Janine.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

“Something wrong?”

“Everything is wrong, nothing is going right.” She says and you look at her confused.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone to whatever crisis is happening with you, do you know where Melissa is?” You ask her.

“She’s in the middle of the dance floor with Barb.” She tells you and you nod.

“Thanks, your party looks great.” You tell her and then walk to the dancefloor. You see Melissa and Barb dancing and you go to walk up to them. “Melissa!” You yell over the music and she turns to look at you.

“Heeeyyy! You made it!” She slurs out and gives you a dramatic hug.

“Holy crap, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk, just happy that you’re here.” She says happily and you smile at her.

“You’re clearly drunk…and apparently so is Barb.” You add as you look to see Barb dancing without shoes on.

“Dance with me, my lovely wife.” She says and grabs both your hands. “I can’t wait to permanently make you my lovely wife. Let’s get married right now!” She says and you widen your eyes.

“No, I’m not marrying you when you’re drunk.” You tell her and she pouts.

“I’m not drunk on alcohol though, I’m drunk in love with you.” She says very close to your face and you smell the alcohol on her breath.

“How about I get us both drinks?” You offer and walk to the kitchen.

“I’m too sober for this.” You say and roll your eyes. “Here Melissa, your favourite beer.” You tell her and hand it to her.

“I have the best fiance in the world!” She shouts out and takes a sip.

You and Melissa start dancing with each other and you keep having to stabilise her as her coordination isn’t the best when drunk. Then the lights go out and the music stops playing and you hear a lot of ‘boos’ from everyone.

“Y/n?” You hear Melissa ask and you turn on your phone flashlight.

“I’m right here Mel.” You say with a smile and she giggles.

“It’s like we’re in an eclipse.” She whispers and you laugh.

“Ya it does.” You tell her and you mess up her hair a bit and she gives you a glare. She then leans forward and captures your lips with hers. Melissa puts her hands in your hair while you wrap your arms around her neck.

“Ah! I’m blinded by the light!” You hear Barb say and pull away. You quickly realise your phone flashlight was pointed right at her eyes.

“Sorry Barb.” You tell her.

The lights suddenly come back on and the dj gets the music ready and they start the music again.

“Come on Y/n, let’s dance!” She says and starts dancing. She then suddenly pulls you in closer to her and takes control of the dance. She spins you around so your back is pressed up against her front and she wraps her arms around your waist. She then leans in close to your ear so only you can hear her. “With you pressed up against me like this, I just want to pound into you with the strap until you can’t walk.” She says and you lose your balance for a second and Melissa notices. “I think you want that too.” She adds.

“Melissa, you’re drunk and not thinking straight.” You tell her.

“Thinking straight is for straight people.” She tells you and you giggle.

“That’s true, and we’re not straight.” You say with a smile.

She’s about to reply back but then you see Janine start to dance and people backing up to form a circle.

“GO JANINE! GO JANINE!” People chant and you and Melissa join in.

An hour later, everyone starts leaving and Barb calls Gerald to come pick her up. You and Melissa wait until Barb is picked up and then you lead Melissa to the car to drive you both home.

“You know I had a lot of fun tonight!” She says quite loudly and you giggle.

“And you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.” You tell her and she laughs.

“You know I haven’t forgotten about wanting to pound into you until you can’t walk.” She says and you glance at her quickly before turning your attention back to the road.

“Play on your phone.” You tell her and she does take her phone out.

You get back home and you help Melissa as she stumbles back into the house.

“Let’s get you upstairs and to bed.” You tell her and she hums.

“Want me already?” She asks and she gets closer to your ear.

“We need to get you upstairs before you pass out.” You tell her and she scoffs.

“Schemmenti’s don’t pass out because of a bit of alcohol.” She slurs out and you shake your head at her.

“You didn’t have a bit of alcohol though, you had a lot.” You tell her as you make it to the bedroom. You drop her onto the bed and then you take her blazer and shirt off.

“Seems like you want me since you’re undressing me.” She says and then you take her bra off and put a pj shirt on her. “What the fuck? What’s with the shirt?” She complains as she tries to take it off. You then push her gently and she falls back on the bed. You then take her shoes, leather pants and underwear off. You try and put some shorts on her but she moves her legs, making it harder so you decide to just ditch the shorts.

You tuck her in and then you go and get ready for bed yourself. Once you come back out of the bathroom, you see her already asleep and you roll your eyes and then climb into bed. Once you get in, she unconsciously moves closer to you and you wrap an arm around her before you fall asleep.

Melissa wakes up first as the sun is in her eyes and she whines. “Y/n?” She calls out and you wake up but don’t open your eyes. “Y/n where are you?” She calls out again.

“I’m right behind you genius, my arm is around you.” You tell her and she grabs hold of your hand. She then gets a notification on her phone and she grabs it to see a calendar note.

“Y/n?” She starts.

“Ya?”

“Why is there a reminder on my phone that says pound into Y/n with strap?” She asks you and you open your eyes and look at her phone.

“When the hell did you… you must have put that in there in the car when I kept denying your advances.” You tell her and you laugh.

“You were able to deny me?” She asks and you nod. “And how hard was I trying?”

“Honestly? Not as hard as I thought you would.” You tell her and she turns around to face you.

“Why don’t I have shorts on?” She asks and you chuckle.

“You kept kicking your legs when I tried to put them on so I gave up.” You tell her.

“And why do you have shorts on?” She asks and you look at her.

“Because I didn’t get plastered last night. I had one drink when I got there and nothing else.” You say and she hums.

“I think you should take the shorts off.” She says with a deeper voice and you look at her eyes and see how dark they are, her normal green is now gone.

“And why’s that?” You ask with a smile.

“Because you’re on my to do list today.” She says and she takes her shirt off. Melissa knew that you can’t deny it when she’s fully naked, or if she’s topless, as her boobs are too perfect for you to say no to.

“You're using my weakness against me.” You tell her and move closer to her and she winks at you. She leans forward and kisses you and doesn’t pull away until you moan. You start to move down to suck on her nipples but she stops you and you look at her.

“You can’t touch them unless you take your clothes off.” She tells you and you quickly take your pj shirt and shorts off. “That’s better. As cute as you are with my shirt and your little shorts on, I much prefer you without anything on.” She says and she tilts your chin and places a kiss on your lips. “Now be a good girl and suck my tits really well.” She says and you happily move your body down and put a nipple in your mouth.

You start sucking and swirling your tongue all over and she’s spewing out moans and gasps. It doesn’t take long until you move your hand down and start circling your clit, turned on by the noises she’s making and sucking on her tit. It isn’t until you’re sucking on the other one that she notices you touching yourself. She pushes you off of her nipple and grabs the hand that you’re touching yourself with, and you let out a whine.

“I think you’re being bad, touching yourself without my permission.” She tells you and you look up at her. “Without mommy’s permission.” She adds and you try to suck on her nipples again but she stops you.

“I’m sorry mommy, let me please you.” You plead and she smiles.

“I know how you’re going to do that.” She tells you and then she goes into the nightstand and pulls out the strap and the dildo. “I’m going to put this on with some lube, and then you’re going to ride it.” She tells you and you nod.

You watch as she puts the strap on and then puts the dildo on it, she grabs the lube and puts a good amount on it. She lays down on her back and instructs you to start riding it. You get up and straddle her lap, you go up a bit and she aligns the dildo with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it, feel as it slowly fills you up, stretching you out. It isn’t until you’re halfway down that you realise that she grabbed the biggest one and it’s filling you up nicely, stretching you out a good amount, especially since you haven’t used the biggest one in 2 months.

“It’s big.” You whine out and she grabs your hips, helping you slide down all the way.

“I know, I want to watch as your pussy just swallows up the entire thing, like the little whore that you are.” She says and that just makes you wetter. You take the whole thing as she bottoms out and then you take a second before you start moving your hips. “That’s it, keep going until you come all over it.” She says and you whimper before you move faster. “If you come like a good girl then I’ll reward you by pounding it into you.” She says. “The way I know you like.” She adds and you suck in a breath at imagining that.

Melissa made sure to position the dildo exactly where it will rub against her clit, knowing how you’ll ride it as she’s gotten you to do it before. She decides to tease you more. She brings a hand down to her pussy, under the strap, and she covers two fingers in her wetness. She then brings them close to you and instructs you to suck on them. You put them in your mouth and you immediately taste her in your mouth, making you move faster and getting you to want to come even faster than before. Melissa watches as you suck her fingers and feels them in your mouth and how your tongue is licking them clean. She really should have thought that through as it’s teasing her more than you. She decides to fuck it and grabs your hips, she pulls you off the strap and you’re looking at her confused.

“Don’t give me that look, you look and feel so good, I can’t wait any longer.” She tells you and she gets you on your hands and knees before she slams the dildo in your entrance and you gasp out. She doesn’t start off slow, she starts pounding into you and you start gasping and moaning right away and that makes her smile. “You like that baby, don’t you? When I’m a bit rough with you, isn’t that right?” She asks you and you whimper. “Use words my love.”

“Yes Melissa, I like it when you’re rough with me.” You tell her and she stops and bends down to your ear.

“When I’m making you feel good, I’m not Melissa, remember baby?”

“Mommy.” You say and she smiles before she sits back up and continues slamming the dildo into you. She watches as you just take the dildo, all of it, all at once and she moans out.

“I just love watching you take all of me, all I give you.” She tells you and she stumbles a little as her orgasm is building. “Oh god baby, do you feel it building, your orgasm?” She asks and you nod.

“Yes mommy, I’m getting close.” You tell her and she grabs your hips to stabilise herself.

“That’s good baby, mommy is getting close as well.” She tells you and you can tell as she’s getting messy, stumbling a bit.

“Make me come mommy.” You whimper out and she moans out.

“Oh god, I love it when you beg.” She says and she sees your legs start to shake. She can hear your breathing get heavier and she has to move harder so she knows you’re clenching around the dildo. “Come baby, let me hear you.” She says and you take a few breaths before you come with a moan. Melissa comes a few seconds after and she holds onto you for stability. She gently pulls out of you but it still has you whimper as it’s big and you’re still coming down from your high. “I know baby, shh.” She says and then she’s out of you fully and she takes it off. “Come here.” She says as she lays down and you join here, and she wraps you protectively in her arms.

“You sure got over your hangover quickly.” You say after a few seconds and she laughs.

“Well my lovely fiancé needed me to make her feel good. I still have a headache though.” She tells you and you look up at her.

“You know you said something last night.” You say and she hums.

“I bet I said a lot of things last night. What stupid thing did I say now?” She asks.

“It wasn’t stupid actually, it was nice.” You say and she looks at you. “You called me your lovely wife and said we should get married right now.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Well I do think about just going to city hall and getting married but this is your first wedding and if you want a wedding then you’ll have a wedding.” She tells you and you kiss her.

“Really?” You ask and she nods.

“I asked you to marry me a month ago because I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy and seeing that smile of yours.” She tells you and you can’t help but smile at her words. “That’s the smile I’m talking about.” She says and boops your nose.

“I know next year we’re getting married but if you want to start calling me your wife then you can.” You tell her.

“Really?”

“Ya, I mean you’re going to be calling me that for the rest of our lives, why not start now?” You tell her and her smile grows.

“Ok, my lovely wife.” She tells you and gives you a kiss.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

@schemmentigfs

Let me know if you want to be added!

[reiding-writing]

Are u willing to do a fic about an unsub!reader with early seasons Spencer? Like, the BAU has to team up with the unsub to catch another criminal with a similar M.O. to them and hijinks ensue (could be angsty hijinks or could be general scooby doo type situations) Idk!! I really like ur works and I've been thinking about this thing for days but my ass sucks at writing lol ;;

copycat—s.reid [1]

Summary:

The replication of a disturbing 2004 serial murder case calls for the BAU to get involved with the assistance of none other than the original killer themself. And whilst Spencer didn’t work the original case, he was eager to learn every detail about it, including its offender.

WARNINGS: made up murder case, graphic depictions of violence, implied suicide (actually murder), mentions of spencer’s addiction, sociopathic reader

s3!spencer/gn!unsub!reader || mystery || 4.5k || masterlist!!

part one !! , part two !!

unsub!reader masterlist!!

a/n: sorry to the person who requested this because tumblr deleted the actual ask but i did have it copied so at least it wasn’t completely lost 😭😭😭

left it here because people tend not to want to read really long fics. if people want a part two i will gladly oblige but otherwise its a decent stand alone to see how spencer would interact with an unsub like this

“James Harden, 23, was found two days ago on the bench of a public park in Los Flores, Orange County,”

The BAU team, barr Hotch, all settled in their seats as JJ arrived in the room.

JJ pressed a button on the small remote in her hand, two photos, one of each wrist of the victim, appearing on the screen behind her. “Both wrists had been slit, and the cause of death was concluded to be blood loss,”

“So, why are we being called in exactly?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his coffee. The team was *tired*. They’d only gotten off a case three days before, and they were all in need of a break.

“Well, if you’d allow me to finish,” JJ shoots Morgan a pointed look to which he promptly raised his hands in surrender.

JJ presses the remote again, images of the victim’s wrists being replaced with images of his face.

There was a mix of reactions from the group, all of which perturbed, but some with more intent than others.

His head was laid limp over the back of the bench, his face pale and his lips white from the lack of blood flow to his head. Nothing they hadn’t seen before.

His eyes however, were a different story, covered up by a pair of red roses that had seemingly had their stems forcibly pierced into the victims eyeballs, leaving a trail of oxidised blood down his cheeks.

Morgan and Garcia shared a concerned glance that they simultaneously turned towards JJ, who matched their expression with her own.

“They didn’t-”

JJ shakes her head at the beginning of Morgan’s question, and Emily and Spencer share a confused glance that they turn towards their three teammates who seem to be locked in a silent conversation that only they understood.

“I feel like i’m back in high school again,” Rossi pipes up at the three from his seat, inadvertently calling them out on their exclusion of Emily, Spencer, and Rossi from their conversation.

JJ sighs as she adverts her eyes towards Rossi, her shoulders sagging slightly. “We worked a case in 2004…” She hesitates to elaborate any further about the details, and Spencer takes the opportunity to voice is own curiosity.

“You didn’t solve it?” He tucks his hair behind his ear, eyes glistening slightly as his eyebrows furrowed in JJ’s direction.

It’d been three years since 2004, and the idea that an UnSub could go postal for that long with an FBI target on their back was- something, to say the least.

“No, we did-” Garcia nods her head determinedly, her eyes lingering on the screen as if she was more focused on the images than the conversation.

“So, a copycat then?” Emily adds her part to the conversation, clearly concerned for her friend’s wellbeing.

“Most likely,” JJ nods her head sharply, looking back at the screen once more. “There’s only been one recorded victim so far, but we want to stop whoever is responsible before anything else happens,”

“Are you alright Garcia?” Emily’s eyes remain fixated on Garcia’s face, her usually upbeat persona dwindling into something more solemn.

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course my love bug, i’m alright,” Garcia shoots Emily a small smile as if to emphasise her point. “It was the first case I ever worked on is all, they just… stick with you ya know?”

Emily nods softly at her explanation. She knew what it felt like to have your first case stick in the back of your mind.

“Alright settle down everyone,” Hotch’s voice echoed through the conference room before he even stepped inside, and the team all diverted their attention towards him.

“I trust they’ve been briefed?” Hotch looks towards JJ, who gives him a nod before stepping aside so that he can take her place at the head of the table.

Hotch walks into the conference room with someone at his side. Someone who makes Morgan’s hand clench into fists and the small hint of optimism that Garcia had managed to keep fizzle from her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” Morgan’s voice was stern and challenging as his eyes narrowed in Hotch’s direction. “Hotch-“

Hotch halts Morgan’s attempt at a rebuttal with his hand, raised in Morgan’s direction as he knits his eyebrows into a line. “They will be a valuable asset to the investigation.”

“You can’t bring a psychopath in here and expect us to just go along with it-” Morgan’s argument was interrupted by your voice from where you stood behind Hotch, hands clasped together behind your back.

“Sociopath.”

Morgan’s expression furrows further if that’s possible, eyes staring daggers at your face. “Close enough.”

“Actually, Psychopaths and Sociopaths are fundamentally different, with the only real similarity between the two being an extreme lack of human empathy,” Your eyes flicker towards Spencer as he corrects Morgan’s assessment, raising an eyebrow in his direction out of intrigue.

“Either way, you cannot expect me to be okay with working alongside a serial killer.” Morgan’s eyes don’t stray from Hotch’s as he speaks, not backing down from his standing.

“I don’t expect you to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that they will be joining us for this investigation.” Hotch’s tone marks the end of the debate, one that Morgan knew he’d lost before it even started.

Hotch gestures for you to take a seat at one of the empty chairs and you oblige, leaning the side of your left foot on top of your right thigh and relaxing back into the swivel chair as Morgan’s eyes bore holes into the back of your head.

The fact that you were even here was enough to spark the embers of rage in the back of his mind.

The fact that you were walking around freely with no restraints was even worse.

“For those of you who weren’t present, in 2004, the BAU team was called out to Malibu to investigate a series of murders that littered the city.” Hotch’s eyes flicker over to where Emily, Rossi, and Spencer were sitting.

“Eighteen people were killed over the span of ten days, crossing age, gender, and race boundaries typical of a normal M.O, with the only link being two roses in place of the victim’s eyes.”

Hotch’s eyes turn towards the images on the screen, yours following his own as you examine the photos with a small huff. “Are you sure that is person is copying me and that it’s not just a coincidence?”

“Putting roses in peoples’ eyes isn’t something we see in the field every day,” Hotch’s explanation is blunt and straight forward.

“My roses were white.” You tilt your head at him with a raised eyebrow. “That’s a pretty stark difference to just ignore.”

“Maybe he’s trying to make a name for himself,” Spencer throws the idea out into the air at your observation, seemingly undeterred by your criminal history now that his head was submerged in the case.

“Then be original.” You face furrows with a roll of your eyes. “Don’t copy somebody else’s idea, it’s not that hard,”

“That’s enough,” Hotch’s voice cuts through the conversation, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’ll discuss the details on the plane.”

Hotch picks up one of the open files on the table and tucks it under his arm. “Wheels up in thirty, i’ll meet you all there,”

A gesture of his head for you to follow him later, and he’s exiting the conference room with you on his tail.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You walk right past Hotch’s seat as you board the jet, opting to take a seat directly opposite the genius doctor that had managed to capture your attention in the conference room.

He looks up awkwardly as you sit down, not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do. Should he start a conversation with you? Should he continue reading his file and pretend he can’t feel your eyes pouring over his features like you were sizing him up.

He doesn’t have to think for too long.

“What’s your name?” Your tone lacks any social grace, but he supposes he can’t blame you. It’s not like it’s your fault you don’t feel or express your emotions in the same way that the majority does.

“It’s- uh- Spe- Spencer,” His awkwardness really shines through his tone, left hand scratching at his right elbow as a self-soothing strategy.

Two seconds into a conversation and he already wants to dig himself a hole and hide in it for the rest of eternity.

“Spencer Reid- Doctor Spencer Reid,” He purses his lips into a line once he’s settled on his full title, but it doesn’t stop him from blurting out more in his effort to get all of his thoughts out of his head. “Spencer’s fine though…”

“Doctor? Of what?” You skirt past his awkward introduction in your pursuit to know more, and he’s grateful that his completely lack of social skills doesn’t scare you off like it would most people.

“Well- I have PhDs in Mathematics, Engineering, and Chemistry,” Spencer tucks his hair behind his ear, his file falling over the side of his lap into the gap between his leg and the arm of the chair. “But i also have bachelor’s degrees in Sociology and Psychology,”

He shuts himself off after his over-winded explanation with a purse of his lips in your direction.

“I have a bachelor’s degree in Psychology,” Spencer’s eyes practically light up at your words, completely forgetting that you’re a convicted serial killer and instead hyper-fixating on your academic interests.

“Really? Did you do a Bachelor of Arts or Science?” You can almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off of his body as he leans forward in his chair slightly.

“Science,” You tap the side of your head with your finger and Spencer thinks he understands. It’s the same reason he studied psychology himself.

Because he was different.

Because his brain worked in different ways than other people.

He couldn’t even imagine how much more severe it was for somebody like you.

“How do you know so much?” Your tone isn’t chastising. It’s not questioning his knowledge because he’s ’too young’ or ‘doesn’t look like someone who would be an expert’ in niche academic areas. You genuinely just wanted to know.

“Well- I have a 187 IQ and an eidetic memory,” You’re eyes followed his as he explained his intelligence to you, chasing them to ensure the two of you maintained eye contact. “And I have a reading speed of 20,000 words per minute,”

You hum at his answer, seemingly satisfied as you lean back in the jet seat.

The silence between you doesn’t have time to get awkward before Hotch is calling the team’s attention to go over the details of the case thus far.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer spends most of his first night in Los Flores on a laptop.

Garcia almost has an aneurism when he asks her if he could borrow one of hers.

It takes him almost 30 minutes to figure out how to use it, face lit by the harsh white light of the screen and softened slightly by the warm yellow of the lamp on his hotel bed’s side table.

Once he manages to pull up the internet browser he spends the next multiple hours researching. Pouring over every news article and journalist report that he can about the 2004 Malibu case that had you in its centre.

The 2004 ‘Malibu Rose Killer’. One of the most prolific serial killers in California’s history.

Eighteen people dead in just ten days. An extremely rapid escalation that held no victim pattern of any kind.

A spree that only stopped when the police found both of your adoptive parents dead after a welfare check concerning your father not turning up to work. Your two first victims.

You’d told the courts that it was a manic breakdown. A symptom of your previously undiagnosed sociopathy. That you weren’t in your right mind when it happened.

It worked to a degree, swerving you of a death penalty, but the fact that your parents’ crime scene had shown signs of recognition for your actions halted your defence quite a bit.

Instead of slitting their radial artery and leaving them to bleed out, you’d severed their spines from the brain stem whilst they slept.

And instead of piercing their eyeballs with two roses, you’d instead chosen to lay one in between their two bodies instead.

That was enough for the prosecution to say you had at least some knowledge of the severity of your actions, and so instead of being carted off to a psychiatric prison you were left in a regular old high security prison to serve two consecutive life sentences for the murder of your parents with an annual mental assessment.

He assumes that’s why you agreed to be here. To gain a lenience on your sentence.

He didn’t know why he found your story so fascinating, but he knew that he’d only be able to refrain from asking you questions for so long.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Spit it out.” Your words snap Spencer out of his thought-filled dazed, blinking at you as he slowly regains his senses.

“Huh?”

“Spit it out. Whatever you have to say to me.” Your tone, as he’s come to expect over the last few days, is very flat and straight to the point, clearly agitated at his eyes lingering on you for what you’d deemed too long.

You walk around the small table at the Orange County’s Los Flores police station with your arms crossed, confined there for the majority of the case as to not possibly initiate any ‘aggressive urges’ that might spawn from seeing a replica of your past crimes.

Spencer’s left hand absentmindedly scratches at his right elbow at your glare, clearing his throat and averting eye contact with you, both out of embarrassment of his unintentional staring and self-preservation towards your proclivity to get angry without real aggravation. “I- It’s nothing really,”

Your head tilts at him, your eyes telling him enough that your patience was waining and that you would get whatever he was thinking about out of him.

“I uh- did some reading… about your case-” Your expression morphs into an emotion that he can’t quite place at his confession, and he feels an overwhelming pressure to keep explaining himself as well as to just sew his mouth shut so he can’t say anything.

“And?”

“And… um- there was a part about it that didn’t really make sense to me,” He’s thrown himself in the deep end now, any hope of changing the topic of conversation long gone as he watches your eyebrow quirk in curiosity.

“Your parents…” Spencer’s eyes scan your expression intently as he mutters out the words, gauging your reaction to his words before he dares to continue.

“What about them?” You remain indifferent if not mildly compelled by the line of thought running through his head, and he’s internally relieved that he hasn’t pressed any of the wrong buttons in your fragile emotional state.

“Why?” Spencer mirrors the short, straight to the point wording that you seemed to be so fond of, and he can see you blank expression waver slightly at the question, like you weren’t sure how to answer it.

He watches the wrinkle in your brow become more prominent, how your eyes seem to loose focus and flicker around the room, the way you subconsciously shift from one foot to the other.

He’s not entirely surprised by your reaction. Sociopaths were very capable of harbouring emotions like everyone else. Anger, happiness, sadness, love, and even fear. Even if the intensity of them and the way they were expressed was different.

Right now your expression read as confusion mixed with mild apprehension, like you were considering whether or not you wanted to answer his question.

You still didn’t seem angry, which he was grateful for. He might have been a qualified agent, but that was with the exception of him not having to pass a physical examination.

And he really didn’t want to risk having to physically defend himself against someone who managed to kill eighteen people in the span of ten days because he’d accidentally said the wrong thing.

“They didn’t deserve to live with the knowledge of what I was going to do,” You tone is a lot less apathetic as you come to your answer, stopping intravenously to collect your words.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow at your answer, not quite sure what to make of it.

“My turn,” Your eyes scan Spencer’s facial features, watching how Spencer’s eyebrows raise as you don’t give him time to compute your answer. “Do your higher ups know you’re an addict?”

The question is blunt, clear, and lacks any subtlety whatsoever despite the two of you technically being in a public place, even if you were the only people in the room.

Spencer’s eyes snap towards yours, surprise written all over his face. “You- I- Uh-“ His mouth falls open and closed like a fish as he tries to string a coherent sentence together, blinking at you with wide eyes.

How did you know that?

He falls short of an answer to your question, his eyes questioning you silently.

“Does your team know?”

Spencer shakes his head slowly. “If they do no one’s ever mentioned it..” He doesn’t know why he’s exposing himself to you like this, but theirs something in the look your giving him that tells him that he can’t lie to you.

“What great friends.” Your voice is practically dripping in sarcasm, and Spencer can’t help but subconsciously agree with you.

He’d waited and waited for someone to recognise that something was off with him. That he wasn’t all there.

But instead of it being one of his coworkers, some of which he’d known for years, it was a sociopathic serial killer that he’d known for 37 hours and 16 minutes.

Lucky him.

“They have more important things to worry about,” His hand returns to scratching at his elbow through his shirt, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

You raise your eyebrow at him, clearly intrigued by the misfortune riddling his life; Almost as if it was a private viewing of a feature film made solely for your entertainment.

“Stop doing that.”

Spencer raises his eyes towards yours once more at your words, wide and glossy and making him look like a pathetic little puppy who’d been told off for tearing up a couch cushion.

You wonder how deep that patheticness goes.

“Don’t scratch. It’s annoying to watch and it’ll make your withdrawals worse.” You depart from the room before he can give you an answer, shutting the door harshly behind you as you spot Hotch in the main foyer of the station.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m bored.” You swing your legs over the edge of the table you were sat on. You’d spent the last four days confined either to the hotel room you were sharing with Hotch or the small meeting room the OCPD had reserved for the BAU during the case.

You wanted a change of scenery. Desperately. You could only deal with monotony for so long.

At least back in your cell you activities you could engage in.

Instead you were just stuck as a fact checker for the details of each victim.

Five people had died now. Following your victim pattern to a T.

The first a young white man. The second a middle aged white woman. The third a male black college student. The fourth and fifth a young gay couple.

It agitated you. What happened to originality? Get your own random victims.

“You can accompany Morgan and I to the coroner’s office,” Spencer offered you a pursed smile at his suggestion, partly because he knew you’d be able to see more differences between the originals and recreations in person than through photos and partly because he wanted to crack you open.

He wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to know what made you tick. How you rationalised your crimes. How your sociopathy developed.

He was in deep. And his brain wanted answers.

“Absolutely not.” Morgan shot down the idea immediately with a stern shake of his head. “There is no way in hell we are bringing them with us,”

“They might catch something that we won’t be able to,” Spencer’s rationalisation wasn’t exactly wrong. Even in copy cat murders the offender always left a piece of themself behind. Something of their own personality rather than the killer they were trying to replicate.

It could be so tiny that no one would recognise it. Apart from the original offender of course.

“They might catch the bright idea to try and attack somebody.”

“Oh please-“ You roll your eyes at Morgan. “If I was going to have another mental break at seeing a recreation of my past endeavours I would have had it already,”

Morgan narrows your eyes at you calling your murder spree your ‘past endeavours’. You hadn’t published a book or painted some mural. You’d killed eighteen people.

“Reid’s right,”

He doesn’t have time to get angry at you.

“Hotch-“ Morgan looks completely betrayed.

“There’s only so much they can do to help us from here. We want to stop this before anyone else gets hurt.” Hotch’s tone is stern, leaving no room for argument.

“And if they do spiral out of control,” Hotch’s eyes flicker between Morgan and yourself. “I trust you’ll be able to take care of it.”

Morgan mutters something under his breath about ‘stupid hierarchies’ and how much he hated your guts as he left the meeting room with a huff, although more composed than you thought he’d be.

“Are you ready to leave?” Spencer’s question snaps you out of your revelling over Morgan’s distaste for you, although your small smile of satisfaction doesn’t falter as your eyes meet Spencer’s.

“Let’s go Doctor. I’m ready to get out of this beige abomination.”

You push yourself off the table and leave out of the same door that Morgan had, Spencer following closely behind you.

He was oddly grateful about your decency to respect his title, and it only made him want to read you like a book even more.

- part two !!

[vidavalor]

The Movie

The most important thing is that he's gone.

If you're feeling sad that it's not the full season and would like some reassurance about the rest of the story being movie-length, though?

Based on where the story is now? They can absolutely do this in 90 minutes. Would it have been more fun if it was the whole season? Of course. But they can do this in 90 minutes-- and do it well. I think there's actually less to go in the plot in the present than we might realize. How so?

I'm pretty sure the next part of the story has never really been plotted to be Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. The end game seems to me to be a bit more they all have to overthrow Heaven to save Aziraphale and that's how they save the world. Meaning, that was Satan with the coffee in The Final 15 and Aziraphale's fall is the plot. The kickoff here in the movie would be the same as it would have been if we had a full S3: the audience gets the hinted at 2.06 twist revealed in full right near the start when they see Aziraphale get to Heaven and be thrown to Hell by The Metatron. The other characters then quickly learn what's happened to Aziraphale. They band together to challenge Heaven--that's the whole Powell & Pressburger's 'A Matter of Life and Death' trial & how it fits into things.

Aziraphale won't accept a verdict that's just for him and not Crowley as well and the process of all of this winds up exposing and overthrowing The Metatron and Hell, freeing the demons. (Gabriel gets his suit back and is their lawyer, you just know it lol.) By coming together to save Aziraphale, the characters fix Heaven/Hell, which then saves Earth and permanently stops the threat of Armageddon. The remainder of the time is wrap up where Crowley & Aziraphale work through what's happened and then head to the South Downs.

All of that stuff in the present that I just said can actually be done inside of an hour, tops. Especially because no one has to set up the characters and story like they would if this were a stand-alone film. They can just dive straight in. That still leaves at least a half-hour--if not a bit more, depending-- for flashing us back to whatever we need to see that supports what's happening in the present (The Vavoom, 1941, probably Jane Austen, likely one or two other things we don't know we need to see yet). More than likely? This is a series of scenes like the S1 cold open more than it is a longer, single-era, flashback minisode. I don't think anyone would complain about another cold open-like sequence? 😊

The movie can work. For perspective? Look at the chart below.

We are at the Big Twist that is The Act II Climax & it's really almost fully done already. All that's left in that Big Twist is to just overtly tell it to the audience because The Final 15 already did all hinting the set up work for it.

As you can see, we're really just moments away from everyone regrouping for the big, final push of the story-- the Act III Climax/overthrowing Heaven-- before we're into the South Downs Cottage ending. This is one of the reasons why I think that S1 showed us Monday-Sunday of The Last Week of the World: Round One with Armageddon being stopped on Saturday but S2 revealed we were watching The Last Week of the World: Round Two... but then stopped the season early on Friday morning. S3, imho, has always been going to pick up within hours of where the 2.06 cliffhanger ended and show us the mirrored Saturday & Sunday of this week that we still have out there.

They won't need to set up at the start of the film where characters are years later because the S2 story we were watching was always written for S3 to pick up basically right where the S2 cliffhanger leaves off. S3 was always going to continue directly the story of S2 rather than come at the story from a place of a dead stop of years having gone by. I think the best way to look at the movie might be as if it is really the S2 finale. Think of it as if S2 actually has 8 episodes but we've only seen 6 of them so far and we're still awaiting the last two.

Each season of the show, in and of itself, follows that above Three Act Structure, even if the overall series of Good Omens is also following it for its overall story as well. Think back on the last two episodes of S1, which would then be similar in some structural elements and in pacing to this movie.

The Act III Climax in S1 is Armageddon being stopped in Tadfield. That will be overthrowing Heaven in the movie. The Obstacle that followed in S1 as a result of stopping Armageddon and which led into the wrap-up conclusion was Heaven & Hell coming after Crowley & Aziraphale/the body swap plot. When Crowley and Aziraphale solved those obstacles-- in short time, as this is part of the wrap-up-- we then left them dining at The Ritz on Sunday afternoon. These episodes were a very clear-cut example of what an Act III in Three Act Structure within a season looks like and it is likely-- structurally-- going to be very similar to what the model for the finale movie will be. The pacing will be a lot alike, just with some flashbacks in the mix.

Think about how little time it actually took to stop Armageddon once everyone was in Tadfield-- and that most of the finale was just getting characters who had already been set up earlier in the story to Tadfield for that to happen. That's about how much time it's going to take them to overthrow Heaven in the movie. We've actually already watched most of the set up in the story to get to that place in S2. Then, think about how the Obstacles part in S1 was the body swap plot... but how that same type of obstacle wouldn't exist in the S3 movie. Why?

Because this movie is going to stop Armageddon permanently by overthrowing Heaven & Hell. Unlike in S1, when Crowley and Aziraphale were still being targeted, they're going to be truly free for the first time ever by this same point in the S3 movie. So, what are the Obstacles then? Their own stuff. This is where we would get the scenes of two of them having the chance to fully talk through The Final 15 of S2 and, in the process, understand where everything went wrong and have the South Downs Cottage then be the happy ending.

There's plenty of space for this in the story because this is where it's all leading and the part about overthrowing Heaven and Hell-- that Act III Climax that sets up this ending? Going into the movie after where S2 left off, we're actually only a heartbeat away from it already.

This is all very do-able within 90 minutes, with plenty of room for things like The Vavoom and 1941. It might not be the full season that we hoped for but the story is in a way better place to wrap this up with a movie than most shows in this position would be.

[actual-changeling]

okay but is anyone going to write a fic set post s3 where they get into a domestic squabble/fight and aziraphale gets so heated he says "i need some air", grabs his coat, and leaves. crowley watches him disappear through the front door, listens to the bang as it falls shut just a tiny bit louder than usual, and suddenly he is paralysed with fear—terrified down to his bones that aziraphale won't come back.

because he left before, didn't he? they fought, he left, and then crowley was alone on earth, his chest empty and aching where his angels had been. for days, weeks, months, he waited. for him to come back. to apologize. waiting for the day he woke up and everything turned out to be a horrible dream.

a part of feels like sinking to the floor and sobbing, another wants to run after him, to scream and beg and plead, don't leave, please. don't leave me again.

instead, crowley goes numb, his movements distant and robotic as he picks up aziraphale's discarded sweatshirt from the couch, pulls it on, and blindly finds his way back to their bedroom. he is good at waiting, isn't he, always has been. he curls up on top of the covers with his nose buried in the collar, inhaling the lingering scent of him, and does exactly that—he waits.

when aziraphale returns almost an hour later, freezing and missing crowley terribly, the argument already forgotten and forgiven, he finds him fast asleep and clutching a bunched up blanket to his chest. he kicks off his shoes and hangs up his coat before slowly sitting down beside him, reaching out to gently tuck back some stray strands of hair.

his fingertips brush along his jaw and crowley snaps awake, blinking heavily and looking at him as if he can't quite believe what he is seeing.

"you came back?"

"of course i did."

aziraphale frowns, not quite understanding why he would even ask that question in the first place, let alone with an almost timid tone, his voice trembling. ten seconds later, everything slots into place.

"oh, crowley, i'm sorry, i didn't mean-"

"'s fine, angel," crowley interrupts, awkwardly shuffling upwards until his head finds a pillow to rest on. all curled up and alone he looks small, fragile, and aziraphale chases after him immediately, settling down next to him before wrapping him in a tight embrace.

"i won't leave you. ever. i promise."

crowley sighs and cuddles closer, his eyes already fluttering shut again. they should talk about all of this, but not now, not with both of them content to stay right where they are and doze the afternoon away.

they have all the time in the world.

so is anyone going to write this properly or-

[mgwbanmott]

I've never understood the constant hate that Wilhelm receives. I don't know if it's a matter of people relating more to Simon or what but I feel like in terms of what they have done wrong, they're pretty on par, at least to me.

Take the part where Wilhelm denies it's him in the sex tape. Yeah, that was wrong of him. And we have to think about how specifically it was wrong of him in Simon's eyes. It was wrong of him because he left Simon all alone. But at the same time, Simon is leaving Wilhelm all alone by breaking up with him. And I understand that it's not the same, Wilhelms actions are worse. But I feel like people willingly forget that simon has a support system of people he can trust completely. He has a supportive family and supportive friends outside of Wilhelm. For Wilhelm, he only had felice, and even then they weren't so close when the breakup happened.

Additionally to this, we learn about how Wilhelm is very susceptible to pressure from his family in s3 e5 when he mentions how he wanted to remain silent in terms of the video, but he was pressured into making a statement. And I get that he made a promise and he did have a choice, but he is also 16 and WAS heavily pressured. Like, the camera crew was hired before Wilhelm even spoke to his mother about the situation.

The argument scene in s3 e5 in general was amazing and really told you about Wilhelms character motivations and helps you understand, but I feel like many people didn't take it as that. They took it in the sense that simon was afraid and that's why he broke it off with Wilhelm again. But I feel like that's fundamentally misunderstanding the point. I feel like the point is that simon is really understanding the position that Wilhelm is in and how he slots into it and how he is now in a similar spot because he's with Wilhelm. It's him defining the relationship, not him realizing that Wilhelm is bad for him. it's not Wilhelm who's bad for him, it's the position that's bad for him. In addition, Simon has probably gained many self esteem issues from the media.

But overall, W and S's problem isn't that they are bad for each other, their problem is that they have barriers in place which prevent them from talking about certain issues which need to be talked about.

This is not really me posting about how Wilhelm was in the right, because he's not always in the right. It's more of me saying that people need to realize that he has understandable reasons for most of his actions and it's not like simon is an angel. They BOTH constantly make bad decisions (as do all other characters in this series) which is why I think they're so interesting.

The point I'm trying to make is don't let your like/dislike of a character warp their actions. This is how we get statements like "Wilhelm and Simon aren't compatible" like, YES THEY ARE. you're just too busy demonizing Wilhelm to see it.

[orbitariums]

christopher moltisanti x black! reader (snippet) as promised literally LAST YEAR... i know my people are still waiting on it i'm so sorry for leaving yall hanging, gays can u ever forgive me?

this is a SNIPPET of the shit i literally started last week... there's room for improvement and hopefully this will force me to finish this. also if any of y'all are also into challengers, i've got some patrick zweig and art donaldson (x black reader) fic posted and more incoming ehehehe.

anyway. set in like s3/s4, when christopher was working in an office (completely blanking on when that actually was but you'll have to forgive me i literally started this last summer (and still haven't finished the sopranos because i am notoriously slow at finishing tv shows))

cappuccino w/ extra cream | christopher moltisanti x black!reader

contains: smut, mentions of racial tension, christopher is NOT an abusive racist in this sopranosverse <3

You and Christopher Moltisanti were not a predictable match. It was only by chance that you met, while he was ordering lunch at the bodega you worked at after he had scored a hit in your neighborhood. He knew better than to come back, especially just for you, but he did. Over and over he came in, ordering a turkey and cheese on a roll with extra relish, shoving an inappropriately large tip in the tip jar just for you— just enough times until you caved in and let him take you out to dinner.

Of course, your family had a fit, and you didn’t even want to think about what Christopher went through with his crew when it came time to finally tell them about his forbidden love life. But all of the ruckus had died down, and now between the two of your crews was this unspoken, stifled agreement that they would let this union exist in peace. It was the 90s for god’s sake, and Christopher was a stubborn mule. 

Once he knew what he wanted, there was no backing down, even if it made him look like an idiot to those whom he served. And by god, did he want you. He was obsessed with you. Always wining and dining you, showing you off without shame. Of course, you two had been through your ups and downs, but Christopher treated you right. You were probably the first woman he’d treated right, the first he cared for unconditionally. No pains in sight except those he took to spoil you and cherish you beyond the diamonds and Versace pumps he gifted you. Even Paulie could respect it, along with the rest. It’s partially why they left it alone, and even smiled and shook your hand when you showed up on his arm. He thought about you every waking moment, he was positively lovestruck. 

It was a slow day at the office. Already Christopher had to reprimand Thing One and Thing Two for trying to intimidate the new guy. He was secluded now in his office, scrolling aimlessly on his chunky desktop computer when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, baby!” came your voice, tinkling like bells in his ear and positively soaring through the room from the other side of the door. 

Christopher stood up, standing straight as if he’d just downed a shot of espresso, and he had to physically resist flinging himself at the door for the sake of the guys outside who were watching him. He opened it, first looking past you and glaring at the guys who had frozen on their phones and computers, gaping at the sight of you being let into Christopher’s office. Like they’d never seen anybody before. 

“What are you jerkoffs looking at?” Christopher barked. “Get back to work!”

Immediately resumed the punching sounds of typing and the drawls of the sleazy salesmen on the phone with their poor customers. As if it were nothing, Christopher retreated back, facing you with a broad, charming smile.

“YN, baby… what are you doin’ here?” he asked, that dopey lover boy tinkle sneaking into his voice, which always did anytime he talked to you. He sounded like a completely different person— like the Chris he might have been if he weren’t born into the family he was born into. He took your arms into his hands, caressing them gently, softly smiling. “Here, come in.”

He opened the door wide enough for you to come in, glared at everyone once again when you walked past, and then closed it, clicking the door locked. Not that anyone would try to come in unannounced anyway.   

“Wanted to see you, that’s all,” you smiled, plush lips pressed against one another. “Got off work early, got you a capp and chocolate biscotti. Extra creamy, just how you like it.”

You sat down at the chair opposite his desk, setting down two coffee cups and a crinkly paper bag. Christopher felt like he was dreaming. His discontent seemed to fade away now that you were here— bright colors replaced the dull dram palette of his lonely office and he only had eyes for you. The smell of creamy espresso wafted towards him, mingling with the praline swirls of perfume that glided off of your pressure points. He was in Heaven— he was sure of it. All of his senses were overwhelmed by beauty when he was around you. 

“My girl. Always so sweet,” Christopher picked up a cup and sat down in his desk chair across from you. He pried open the lid and took a deep sniff, all the while maintaining the most tantalizing eye contact with you, both of you staring at each other with smirking smiles painted on your lips. 

“Go on, drink it,” you prompted him, unable to hide the smile from your voice. 

“What, I can’t look at you instead?” Christopher crooned back. “C’mere. Come, sit on my lap. Sitting across from me, what are you, a client?”

You shook your head, laughing at Christopher’s incessant demands to always be close to you, always be looking at you. He was always touchy-feely and lovey-dovey. His affinity for physical touch lurked not so far beyond the cold mobster exterior. You got up anyway, slinked over to him, and sat. One leg crossed over the other, the skin of one thigh sinking into the other. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his chin into your shoulder, gazing up at you. 

“Your hair looks nice,” Christopher commented, gently grabbing a handful of your fresh auburn-colored braids and stroking his hand through the gaps.

“Oh, thank you,” you snaked a hand through your hair, tilting your head so you could see Christopher better. 

“You go to that salon? Put it on my card?”

“Of course, baby. Thank you,” you smiled coyly, kissing his cheek with a loud smack.

“You just tell me anytime you need to get your hair done. With you, it’s every two weeks, but I can’t complain.”

You snickered,

“Yeah, until I make you sit there and wait for me for six hours to get some braids.”

“I dunno how you do it. You’ve got patience like nobody else,” Christopher replied, pushing some of your braids to the other side.

“We have patience like no other.”

Christopher looked down at your skirt— a tight pencil skirt that matched the brown hues of your skin and hugged your curves nicely. You matched it with a blazer and a white blouse. You looked so sexy and professional, and elegant.

“And this skirt,” Christopher continued, layering on the compliments with a renewed curiosity, the kind of curiosity that wanted to know what was under the skirt. His hands, rough and large, found their way onto your lap and your thigh. His hands, marred and toughened from his profession, felt nothing like your buttery smooth skin, but still, you found yourself melting into his touch. Your wispy lashes brushed against your cheek as your eyes fluttered slightly closed. 

“Burberry. You like it?” you bit down on your lip, giving him doe eyes as you craned your neck to coo at him. 

A deep smirk set on Christopher’s lips and his thick brows rose slightly. His hands left your body for only a moment to raise up in the air as if considering the question, then they were right back where they belonged, 

“Do I like it? I wanna fuck you with it on.”

Your mouth dropped.

“Christopher!” you enunciated each syllable, glaring back at him with twinkling, faux scandalized wide eyes. 

“What? I can’t be honest anymore?” Christopher asked, his words beginning to sound muffled as he pressed his lips against your neck ever-so-gently, but enough so that you could feel it. “I’m Catholic. Lying is a sin.”

“What’re you doing, Chris?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes amusedly. You wouldn’t keep up this facade for long, but he would play along and break down your walls. 

“You smell so fucking good,” Christopher practically inhaled your scent, his big nose pressed against the nape of your neck. “You got more of this stuff?”

You frowned slightly, remembering that you were savoring the last of it,

“I’m almost out.”

“I’ll get you more,” Christopher replied immediately. “Make that your signature scent.”

You chuckled at Christopher’s insistence, his matter-of-fact way of speaking about certain things. Not controlling, but honest about what he wanted. 

“Okay, I will,” you grinned. 

Christopher pushed away your braids so that one side of your neck was completely bare for him to continue peppering kisses upon. It was clear to you that he wanted more than just this, as sweet as it was. And you wanted it too, but not without teasing him first. 

“I want you right now,” Christopher said, a certain desperation tinged in his voice that only you could provoke. He knew he’d have you, and could have you… but still, every time, he seemed to rescind into this character of the enthralled lover boy who didn’t quite have the girl. Like he was still ordering sandwiches from the other side of the counter and telling you to keep the change. 

“Christopher! You’re at work. What if someone hears?”

Christopher snorted through his nose, 

“I don’t give a fuck. ‘Sides, only thing those jerkoffs can hear is the sound of their own 

mouth-breathing.”

You giggled, but half-heartedly, trying to catch your breath. Christopher wasn’t the only one who was defenseless in this relationship. You wouldn’t be able to guess it right away, but he had you wrapped around his finger too, right along with his Cuban ring. Everything he did positively enraptured you, even if it made him dangerous. But when you were with him, everything was swathed in the softest fabrics, and the air smelled of fresh linen and fields of flowers. None of the blood and tears that his work consisted of. 

You crumpled under his touch, easily. He knew you, mind, soul, and more presently, body. The room was silent, bar for the slightest sounds of lips against your neck and fabric swishing against itself as he eased his hand further up your thigh, pushing underneath your skirt. By now his kisses against your neck had you tilting your head back in pleasure, your lips slightly parted. You could feel the outline of his cock against your ass and wanted nothing more than to get closer. Each time you saw each other it was like you hadn’t seen each other in years, would never see each other again. The passion never dissipated. 

His hand crept further and further until it reached the side of your panties, lifting the elastic band and then letting it slap against your skin. His kisses against your neck grew deeper and traveled up to your chin, his other hand wrapped around your waist tightly. You gasped slightly at Chris’ suggestive touch.

“Christopher…” you whispered, your voice reduced to a weak shiver, lids becoming heavy. 

“What?” he responded, his breath heavy. 

“Please, I need you to touch me.”

“Where?” Christopher asked, fighting the smile that was pulling at his lips. 

“Here!” you exclaimed with desperation, grabbing his hand and pressing it against the center of your panties where there was a wet mark. 

“Oh, there,” Christopher replied, fingers pressing into you over the delicate fabric. 

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, your whole body beginning to tense up as if preparing for sweet impact. 

You were relieved when you felt him push your panties to the side and you could finally feel his fingers against your flesh, prodding at your folds as if collecting your wetness along his fingertips. 

“You’re always so wet,” he shuddered, wasting no time and pushing a thick finger into your hole, making you nearly jump out of your seat on his lap. Instead, though, you simply arched your hips up against his finger, letting out a deep exhale. “And so warm.”

“Oh!” you yelped out in pleasant shock when Christopher added another finger, fully stretching you out now and sending a buzzing vibration up your spine. 

“Thought you didn’t want anybody to hear us?” Christopher taunted you, lips hot against your ear. 

“Ugh,” you moaned, rolling your eyes. “Just—please.”

“Please what?” Christopher asked, all while quickening the pace of his fingers inside you, switching from slow, scissoring motions to a fast slam that caused you to collapse against his chest, your legs pried open. Christopher moaned to himself at the feeling of your wet slick against his fingers, the way he could feel you getting wetter as he pushed his fingers in and out of your hot entrance. 

“Please fuck me,” you whined, your voice taking on an entirely new high pitch as you jolted into the pleasure and the change of pace. 

“‘M gonna fuck you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Christopher kept pushing his learned fingers into you, hitting your g-spot with ease. “Gonna make you take my cock.”

“M-mhm,” you gasped out. Chris wanted to see this through, but the way he was straining against his pants was killing him. It was painful not to be able to be inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m taking this off,” he announced, and you both fumbled together to unzip your skirt and toss it onto the floor. His pants and boxers came next, along with your panties. All thrown carelessly around the room. Then he lifted you and turned you around so you were facing him, straddling him on his desk chair. You were already desperately grinding against the base of his cock, your arousal trailing up his shaft. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” Christopher’s voice seemed to grind into a growl as he watched you roll your hips desperately against his cock. 

“Please,” you pouted, his words passing through you like a gust of wind— you hardly registered them. You were too busy grabbing at his cock and trying to 

“Why’d you really come here, huh? To get fucked?”

You hated and loved how easy it was for him to turn you into putty. 

more soon i promithhh <3 keep me on my toes yall

[milehighmegs]

The Window Theory

This is kind of a two-parter, and a bit long and circular, but it all connects, so just bear with me 😁

So, I just finished my 42598302621827732263435th re-watch of S2E6. When Beez says, "I just found something more important than taking sides," and she & Gabe join hands, Zira touches Crowley's arm. Ya know, this touch:

Look at Zira's face. I think, maybe- just MAYBE- Zira finally realizes that this is what Crowley's been talking about every time he's said, "our side." He reaches out to Crowley, but because he can't actually speak at that moment, it's his way of saying, "Oh my god. I get it now. I completely understand." And if you watch a bit longer, when Crowley walks away to take Nina & Maggie out of the shop, he keeps reaching for Crowley (couldn't find a GIF of it, but it's there). Almost like he's saying, "oh, oh yes, we are going to have a VERY good talk when this is all wrapped up."

There's also an element of "we're not the only ones," and "maybe, if the Supreme Archangel of Heaven can fall for the Grand Duke of Hell, this isn't as bad as I've been telling myself it is." If Gabelzebub haven't been- smote? smited? smitten- by God or devoured by Satan for falling in love (and not being coy or secretive about it), maybe Zira is FINALLY ready to actually be with Crowley, in the open, and without fear.

But we all know what happened after that.

Yes, Metatron is a bastard. But (and this is just a bit of a theory here) in telling Zira that he (Metatron) knew about the "de facto partnership" with Crowley, and then later about the Second Coming, he gave the whole game away**. Zira thought that Heaven wasn't watching all that closely. And maybe they weren't, right up until the two of them thwarted the Nopocalypse, but looked into the records and found out what they'd been up to for millennia. What Zira knows now is that not only are they aware of it, they are fully prepared to use it as a threat against him, but more so against Crowley. At that moment, however, that's all he knows. Metatron didn't mention the plans for the Second Coming until after The Kiss™. So after accepting Metatron's offer and desperately trying to convince Crowley to come with him and failing, but before the Jesus 2.0 bomb, Zira is visibly shaken (I mean, I would be too if I had just accepted that I COULD be with the love of my life, then got kissed like THAT by them, only to be broken up with right after they told me that they felt we'd been together all along). He didn't have a plan to protect Crowley. He didn’t think he needed one because he was so sure that his offer to go to Heaven would be accepted. He figured it was a given, knowing & understanding now that Crowley wanted to be with him, and part of the reinstatement of Crowley as an angel would facilitate that.

Now that Crowley has refused, Zira doesn't know what to do. He didn't have a backup plan. And he still, at that point, doesn't really know what Metatron needs him for. It's why he hesitates to leave at first. For the first time since The Arrangement, he doesn’t have a partner. He's alone, trying to figure things out, trying to find some way, ANY way, to make this work. He keeps looking out the window, ostensibly at Crowley, but... did you notice that we're never actually shown WHAT he's looking at? I have a feeling we'll find out in S3 what it is, but for now, he's flustered, anxious, and of course still reeling from what had just happened. He looks out the window a second time, and just, like... suddenly snaps out of it. We can tell, as the audience, that there's a lot of game face happening here, because we know Zira: we know his mannerisms, his moods, his reactions to certain things. And we also know he's smart. But I digress.

Something occurs to him (or he sees something out the window), which is why he suddenly feigns detachment and goes with Metatron. The wheels start to churn, but only insofar as it has to do with protecting Crowley. When the Second Coming plans for Supreme Archangel Aziraphale are dropped, everything changes. EVERYTHING. He suddenly realizes that the whole purpose of the offer, and the chance to take Crowley with him, was a trap. Metatron knew Crowley would refuse, and having made the threat, he knew Zira wouldn’t refuse. Zira understands the offer’s true purpose was to separate them so that they couldn't prevent another apocalypse. So now, not only is Crowley's life at risk, but Earth is once again under the threat of annihilation, and he doesn't have the one person he's always been able to rely on to help him prevent it. He goes with Metatron because he knows it's the only thing he can do to protect Earth AND his beloved.

That one last look at Crowley... I don't know, maybe something had passed between them through the window that we don't yet know about. Maybe Zira just had a sudden realization that had nothing to do with what he was looking at (perhaps the bullet catch mentioned below**?). Whatever the case, hearing about Armagedd-it's-back-on was a seismic shift in his attitude. You can see it in his demeanor: he’s no longer flustered, no longer searching for answers, no longer anxious about what happens next. In short, SHIT JUST GOT REAL. Because of this, Zira has to once again think fast, but keep Crowley in the dark, and get to work. That ride up in the elevator was spent hatching the most clever, most ingenious, dare I say the most devilish plan the Universe has ever seen. He is really and truly on OUR side now, the side that he & Crowley had been on for millennia, the side he was no longer pretending to NOT be on, the side that he finally stepped into with perfect love and perfect trust. With no way to tell Crowley about the Second Coming and therefore what he was planning, it seems like he chose Heaven over love. But he didn't. He did choose Crowley, but he also chose Earth, and in reality, he chose "us." It's just going to have to wait.

**If you wanna go really deep with this, the whole reason for the bullet catch episode was to mirror Furfur’s threat with the Metatron’s, and Furfur also revealed the plan too soon (I think there’s also another reason for this episode, details below). Like a bad Bond villain, they were too cocky. In 1941, Zira was able to think fast, palm the photo, and protect him & Crowley. But note that he didn’t tell Crowley what he was doing (there was neither time nor opportunity); Crowley only found out after the fact, when they were having dinner later. Zira protected "us" even then because only hours before, he realized that he loved Crowley and (I'm pretty sure) that Crowley loved him back. At the time, however, he didn't think anything could come of it. But that touch in the bookshop... that's when he knew. So when Metatron made the offer, there was no need to protect anything because he thought Crowley would come back to Heaven. Since that went down like a lead balloon, Zira is left helpless & scrambling. Then that look out the window... I think Zira remembered the bullet catch. That silent "trust me." The “aim for my mouth then shoot past my ear.” The diversion tactic. Again, until the Second Coming plans are revealed, Zira only plans to find a way to protect Crowley in secret. When the stakes rise, Zira ups his game. THAT’S the reason for the changing looks on his face on the elevator ride. THAT’s what the smile is about. He’s doing the calculations, setting up the illusion, perfecting the con. And just like the magic act he & Crowley pulled when they saved Job’s children, just like when Crowley seemed to be the random volunteer to pull the trigger, Zira knows his partner will be there to help him pull it off one more time. Even if it means leaving him, leaving him in the dark once again.

[williamandmichaelendgame]

Byler and The Imitation Game

My native language is not english so i hope you understand everything🥰.

So we all know the poster from Will in S4 was about Alan Turing and i found the movie ,,The Imitation Game” and i watched it, and it was very interesting for byler and mileven.

So at first Alan was gay and saved 14 Million lives and shortened the ww2 around 2 years.

Alan was also inlove with his bestfriend, Christopher.

( on the left side is Christopher and on the right Alan)

So he needed to crack the german enigma in year 1939 and he wanted to see if anyone can crack a puzzle under 6 minutes, and a lady, Joan, was late and she argued with a man. So Alan went to her and said something like ,,you can sit down”. She argued with the man, because he thought that she didn’t cracked the puzzle all by herself, because they needed to also crack a puzzle before they crack the other puzzle, and she was a woman,thats why the man thought she could not do it all by herself, it was during WW2.

I think it’s like El and Mike, Mike trusted El and let her to his house, but we all know Lucas and Dustin didn’t like her. So we can imagine like Dustin and Lucas are the men who doesnt like women and Mike like Alan liked her and let her to his house and like Alan gave her a chance to crack this puzzle even if she was a woman.

Now we go to Alan’s school time, he was bullied for being ,,different”. But he had help from his best friend, Christopher. One day they were under a tree, Christopher read a book. And Alan was interested, so Christopher thought that he would like it too. And then they shared a cute smile and i think that was the moment Alan realized his feelings for Christopher. And then they had a math class and shared letters and Christopher wrote something like ,,See you in two long weeks, my dearest friend”🥰🥰. And after that two weeks Alan wrote ,,i love you” and he waited for him, but he never came back, because he died of his illness.

I think in ST are letters romantic, like here, but i mean not every letter is romantic. But i don‘t think mike knows that he loves him, because i think he would like get distance himself from Will. Because i think we all think that mike has internalized homophobia, but i mean he will notice it in S5.

Okay so now we come back to Alan and Joan, so she cracked the puzzle under 6 minutes and i mean they liked eachother, but Joan had to leave,because her parents wanted her back and because she had no husband. So Alan had the idea to marry her, and they did.

So what do you think? I think Mike forced himself to get into a relationship like Alan for a reason, maybe because he’s gay or what i think he ,,loved” her in the moment were she wore nancys dress or just another reason idk. We don’t know what he thought or felt. He just looked at her and said ,,pretty”. Idk but the duffers will hopefully explain what he thought or felt.

And after Alan was engaged with her, they were at a party and a friend of Alan asked Joan to dance with him and they did, then Alan smiled at them but it faded away and a friend sat next to him and he said ,,what’s the matter?” Alan said ,,what if- what if i don’t fancy being with joan that way”😟 and then the friend said ,,because you’re a homosexual?” And Alan said ,,i care about her, i truly do,i just dont know if i can pretend…”😱

We all know mike said to Eleven ,,i care about you so much” and i think this scene from Alan was inspired from it.

And now a good one, they ,,broke up” because Alan said he is gay, but she said ,,i had my suspicions, but i care about you and i know you care about me” and idk i never saw a post about it but in S3 eleven said to max ,,how do i know what i like?” LIKE WHAT😭 how do you know what you love when you don’t even know what you like and it was just about clothing?

And Alan said that he was never alone, because he said to his Computer, Christopher and after he cracked enigma, he took his Computer, Christopher home with him.

,,I think it‘ll be easier if we’re a team. Friends. Best Friends.” So Mike and Will are working together. Like Alan and Christopher just that Christopher is his Computer😓.

And omg im sorry i dont have structure😭 i just saw Joan and Alan danced together but they were not inlove😭

Like El and Mike they danced together🤔

And thats a really good one omg💀 Alan said ,, what if- what if i don’t fancy being with joan that way” and Will also said ,,what if- what if they don’t like the truth?” And mike nods💀and when Alan said ,,what if- what if” he didn’t stuttered it was just a break like Will.So i think maybe what Alan said is that what mike think or is like an answer to Will’s question.

But ik it doesn’t mean that Alan Turing is like Mikes story, it’s just inspiring, from a gay icon🥰. Maybe El and Mike they were in love somehow, because i think it’s difficult to explain it,but i mean i think the duffers have also their own ideas and get inspired from other movies/shows.But that they are not inspired from this movie, i would say it’s impossible 😭 See how many things are like the same. Me personally i think that’s why it’s real because Mike is very big maybe (it’s obvious) inspired from Alan so yeah.

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You - (Penelope/Colin) Part 1

Rating: R

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 scene released yesterday.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn't giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Part 1

Penelope stared out at the pond, her last conversation with Colin still running through her mind. I miss you. Few months ago his words would have sparked incredible joy in her but hearing his smug confession last night had elicited nothing but rage. Even now an explosive anger threatened to burn her from the inside out - but she reminded herself to stay composed. Losing her calm over Colin Bridgerton was simply not worth it, not when she had far more important things to worry about.

“Penelope. How are you?”

Hearing Lady Violet’s voice from behind, she turned around to greet the older woman. Except she wasn’t alone. Of course not. Behind her stood most of her family, Colin and Eloise on one side, Gregory and Hyacinth on the other. Penelope quickly shifted her gaze back to Lady Violet. “I’m quite well. How are you?”

“You haven’t paid us a visit in a long time.”

Penelope sensed the scorn vibrating off of Eloise in waves, but she ignored her former friend. Even though her soul ached at the loss of their friendship, a part of her had already grown resigned to their new reality. “I’m afraid country life has kept me busy all these months.”

“Well, you’re back now. I hope to see you at the house more often.”

There was no mention of the falling out with Eloise, nor did Penelope expect there to be. Especially with Eloise pretending she no longer existed. Her eyes roamed over to her friend, only to be ignored. Inevitably her gaze slid over to Colin, and she suddenly found herself the recipient of his intent focus. Somber blue eyes penetrating her through to her very core, making her rattled and anxious and breaking down the very calm façade she worked so hard to build.  

Throughout their entire friendship he’d always been sweet and funny, filling her dull world with hope and color, but the night of her mother’s ball she’d seen the kind of cruelty he was capable of. It was a side of him that she never wished to see again. And feeling his piercing gaze right into her soul, in a way he’d never looked at her before, reminded her of how much of a stranger he really was. “Forgive me, Lady Violet, but I must take my leave. Mama shall be waiting for me.”

She quickly walked past the group, breathing a sigh of relief at no longer being under Colin’s scrutiny. Her relief, however, lasted only a few seconds. Because almost immediately Colin was striding alongside her.

“Pen, we need to speak.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Then I’ll do the talking.”

“And I’m not interested in listening.”

“Too bad. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

She cursed his long legs, because while she struggled to keep up the fast pace he seemed to glide along the path without much effort. Short of running away from him, which would surely cause a scandal amongst the crowd promenading, she had no choice but to keep walking.

“I’m sorry. Truly.” His voice was soft, velvety like butter, like he’d practiced the words many, many times in preparation for the performance of a lifetime. “My words that night-”

“Do you know that I read your letters over the summer? Despite my anger, I still read them.”

An unexpected rawness laced his voice. “Why?”

“Because I needed to know. Would I recognize that insincerity in your words now that I knew the truth about your disdain towards me. And do you know what I discovered?”

She finally turned to look at him, and just for a moment the world stopped. Like it always did. His eyes were bluer than the sea itself, a symphony of agony and need, beckoning her towards him. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, her heart caught in a whirlwind of chaos.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t a request, nor a plea. It was a demand. As if he was entitled to her thoughts, her heart. Her very soul.  Well, damn him. Damn him for playing her for a fool. And damn herself for ever loving him. “You are an extraordinarily talented writer, Mr. Bridgerton. So good in fact that I woulld never have guessed your true thoughts if I didn’t hear you utter them myself.”

“That’s not fair. It was one night, Pen! One night! When I was drunk out of my mind and said something foolish. Are you really willing to give up on me after years of friendship because of something so small?”

“Yes.” Her response was quick and resolute, surprising even herself.

Stunned, Colin stared back at her. “Yes?” The tremor in his voice was unmistakable. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?”

The change in him was sudden and abrupt, taking her by surprise when he moved swiftly to block her path.

The blues of his eyes were so dark they bordered on brown, a storm brewing in them. Staring back at her was a man she didn’t recognize, different from the boy she grew up with,and the man who humiliated her without a thought. This was a stranger in front of her, anger etched on his face, jaw clenched with tension.

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

She didn’t think he could hurt her more, but he managed to do it nonetheless. “I never expected you to court me, Colin. You don’t love me. I’m quite aware of that. But you could have told them there was nothing between us. You could’ve even said I meant nothing to you. Instead you mocked me, derided me so you could look good in front of your peers, and that makes you someone I never want to associate with.”

 “I made a mistake, Pen.”

“Miss Featherington,” she bit out through gritted teeth. “That is who I am to you from now on. Nothing more.”

“So that’s it? I make a mistake and you erase me from your life just like that?” He snapped his finger angrily. “Are you so fucking perfect that you’ve never wronged anyone?

They’d been standing still for far too long, their conversation growing more potent every second. All of a sudden she was acutely aware of glances in her direction, people’s eyes sliding over her and Colin, and she realized how dangerous this was. Risking her carefully crafted plans for a few heated moments with him was idiotic. “People are staring at us, Colin.”

“I don’t care.”

“Obviously.” She offered a small smile at the couple who walked past her, trying to appear amiable. “You may not be concerned about my reputation but I am. And I would appreciate it if you stayed out of my way.”

“I’m not willing to give up on our friendship like you.”

His snarky words drew her gaze back to him. “Walk away, Mr. Bridgerton. Let me be.”

“And if I don’t?”

The hint of menace sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. “You would not be the gentleman you claim to be.”

“Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps everything you’ve accused me of is true.” He took a step closer, eyes shining brightly. “Maybe I am cunning and cruel. What then?”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “What is it that you want from me?”

“Forgiveness.”

“Fine. You’re forgiven.”

“You’re lying.”

“And you’re being rude.”

Eyes locked, they regarded each other intently. She didn’t understand what he was doing, why he was behaving this way. Why his stare seemed to be all consuming, studying her, trailing down to her mouth when she licked her bottom lip before drifting back up again. He’d never behaved this way before, A complete stranger in every way. “If you ever valued me as a friend, you would do as I ask.”

“I could say the same. If you valued me, you wouldn’t cast me aside.”

“You can not force me to continue this.”

“Would that be such a hardship? To move past one mistake and leave it behind us?” Desperation brimmed from him, he swallowed audibly. “I may not wish to court you but you are important to me. You’re my dearest friend. I can not envision a life without you.”

She exhaled a long, drawn-out breath. “You must.”

His lips twisted into a cruel plea. “Why?”

“Because I am to be married, Colin!” Instantly she regretted her words, hating herself for letting him provoke her. Yes, it was the truth, a plan that had taken months to carefully develop and plot – and now she’d ruined it by announcing it too early, and to him of all people!

“What?” He faltered back, stunned by her words. “You’re engaged? To whom? Why-”

“All you need to know is that my future husband and I have already discussed the matter and he wishes for me to have nothing to do with you. So goodbye, Mr. Bridgerton, because this the last time you and I will speak alone.” She stormed away, before he could stop her.

To be continued...

A/N - Um, thoughts? Feedback is always appreciated. I'm liking the idea of Colin and Penelope going head to head over the destruction of their friendship :)

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

Such amazing work the lot of you are doing. I'm both impressed and very, very grateful. <3

I'm looking for fics exploring what could happen next in the story. The fic Factory Settings absolutely blew me away. It's so faithful to both style and canon (well, almost), the characters really seem like themselves, and it's heavily plot driven while at the same time keeping their relationship at the centre.

Do you have any recommendations for fics like Factory Settings, that explore a possible season 3 storyline for me to indulge in until we get the real s3?

Hello! We have a #good omens s3 speculation tag, so check that out for loads of recs. Here are more to add...

When a Ripple Becomes a Tidal Wave, the Reason is to Blame by DiscombobulatedBard (T)

Six months after Aziraphale leaves Crowley for Heaven, he finds a way to secretly speak with him. The supreme Archangel has changed his mind; heaven and hell cannot be fixed, cannot be changed. Instead they must be rendered obsolete. There’s only one weapon in the cosmos with the power to destroy the Book of Life and the power it holds over all supernatural beings: the flaming sword of Eden. But Aziraphale’s sword has been… relocated. In order to find it, Crowley must journey to the darkest layers of Hell where horrors and temptations alike await him. He will get home. He will return to Aziraphale no matter what it takes… right?

the right thing to guide us by NotAWriter6 (G)

Aziraphale returns to Earth after several years to enlist Crowley's help to undo Heaven and Hell. Crowley, who is holding on to a lot of anger, reluctantly agrees to aid him one last time.

But You Are An Ocean by megzseattle (T)

After Aziraphale's defection, Crowley tries to figure out how to live life for himself.

Grand Theft Angel by doraminatook (E)

“Here’s the thing, Muriel," Crowley barked, "Do you know how many times over the past however-many eons, I have dropped everything that I was doing - even if it was more important or far more interesting - so that I could go save Aziraphale? Do you know how many times I went out of my way to help him? And what did he do? He just left. Because he got a better offer. Why should I risk my neck and help him out when he clearly wouldn’t do the same for me!?" “Because you love him.” Muriel said it so nonchalantly, as if it was so obvious…because it was. : Deep in the vaults of Heaven is the Penal Institution for Ungodly Behavior (AKA Heaven's prison system). Following Aziraphale's attempts to undermine The Second Coming, he has been stripped of the Supreme Archangel title and left to rot there for all eternity. That is unless Crowley and Muriel's plan to rescue him succeeds. It's a dangerous plan (bordering on idiotic, complete with a mysterious package, a science experiment gone wrong, and a little demonic possession), but if it means bringing his angel home, then Crowley is willing to burn all of Heaven to ashes.

Good Omens - Corner Office with a View (Broke My Wings so You Could Fly) by Noli_Timere031754 (M)

A year after season two, Aziraphale is trapped in Heaven. He sees Crowley living on Earth, all alone and in trouble. With help, he manages to act accordingly. Crowley’s heartbreak leads to him to being a damsel in distress. Excerpt: Aziraphale recalled what he’d seen out his office window. With it’s close and clear view of London, Earth. He hadn’t meant to zoom in, where he did. The scene had appeared against his will. A certain demon. All alone and buying several cases of the worst scotch he’d ever tasted. Oodles of it. Something he drank when he didn’t care about quality, only getting drunk as fast as possible. Crowley looked bad. Aziraphale didn’t think he’d ever seen him with a hair out of place, and certainly never in dirty clothes and flip flops. But there he was. The only familiar part of his attire had been his sunglasses.

Three Is Not Enough by haleinedelail (T)

Ten months after the Metatron blew up their lives at the end of season 2, Heaven has placed a temptation in Crowley’s path. It's a trap, of course, and Crowley knows it, but not the kind of trap that he thinks. And, bless him, he can't resist walking straight into it. Literally physically injured, Crowley must jump headlong into saving... something. But he'll have to make a terrible choice. The story has a healthy dollop of Crowley working through his (ahem) personal demons, and grief. It has some romance, but also some harsh truths for Aziraphale, several jaunts back in time (though, not too far back!), and some exposed fuckery on the part of Heaven (the good guys, right?). I promise a happy ending, but it might be a rough road getting there... but would we have it any other way?

- Mod D

[alcalystrasz]

Mike's "It's not my fault you don't like girls" line wasn't reflected to Will, to accuse him of not liking girls, but himself.

From Will's pov, Mike is arguing with him about being straight and liking girls - which is the common step for teenagers, which is why he says "we're not kids anymore". Will felt like his childhood was taken away from him because of the demogorgon in s1 and the mind flayer in s2. And now he's being shout at for not being like a "normal" teenager, and acting childish.

From Mike's pov, he's getting more and more conscious about his possible romantic feelings for Mike and so to remove that idea from his mind, he started to date El, thinking these thoughts were gonna disappear. But they didn't. What he said there, those were his own feelings, these were what he was saying to himself. "Why don't you like girls like everyone, like Lucas, like Dustin? You're not falling for a guy now, are you? Am I?" This sentence, that hurt Will, hurt Mike first.

What Will thought is that Mike knows (a little bit atleast) that he's into guys that's why he ran away and was hurt so much. He thought Mike was being homophobic, that's one part of why he destroyed his only safe place: Castle Byers. This place filled with memories about his childhood and... about Mike.

When Will pulled up the shocked face, Mike felt bad. Because he realized he just reflected his own feelings, his own thoughts on his best friend, for no reason. He was overwhelmed by that idea since the end of s2.

Ending up dancing with a girl, seeing Will dance with another girl, feeling more distant then and ending up leaving their childhood for teenagehood, which includes having girlfriends.

Mike said "Look, I'm not tryina be a jerk, okay?" Because he knows he just hurt Will. And he doesn't want to be a jerk, a homophobe. "I mean what did you think, really? You thought we were never gonna get girlfriends? That we were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?" And to that, Will says yes. "Yeah. I guess I did. I really did..."

Will's only wish is to have friends to hang out with and enjoy what they like the most. He doesn't care about not having Mike as his boyfriend because right now, he thinks he's straight. So he doesn't mind suffering in silence, waiting for those feelings to go away and move on from Mike.

Mike's wish is to feel needed. He feels like alone he's not worth anything. El needs him, and he loves that idea of being needed. But what he doesn't seem to understand is that Will needs him too. Because of the distance with California, Mike only cared about the one person he can hide his sexuality from and the one person he feels like they care about him: El.

He doesn't know Will likes him. And at the end of s4 only, it looks like he almost fully accepted himself: by his room decoration (the half naked dragon, the poster with 2 half naked people), by the way he is with El (which looks like siblings energy) and with how he acts with Will.

So this, "It's not my fault you don't like girls" is Mike's own feelings reflected on Will. This idea of not liking girls evolves through time, through seasons. At the end of S3, he understands he might have actual feelings, romantic feelings, for Will and in S4 it looks like he fully accepted those feelings and stopped denying them.

Although at the beginning, he keeps the distance with Will, it is only a thing for him to stay away from the person he likes. We all feel a bit awkward next to our crush, don't we? Will noticed that and he thought it was because he was feeling less close to him and more to El (so still the idea of him being straight).

Mike proves the opposite when he admits to Will, later on, that "Maybe I was worrying too much about El, and I don't know, maybe I feel like I lost you or something." He knows he's been considering El more rather than Will because she needs him, like he feels to. He didn't considered that Will needed him, especially because of their fight in the rain where Will left Mike, showing him from Mike's pov that he doesn't need him.

The feeling of losing Will was haunting Mike. He felt depressed after he left for California because he knew he liked him and he was also depressed because El, the person he likes a lot platonically, who needs him also left.

In the end, Mike understands that those words directed to Will, were for him only. Fighting this thought for months, and a year (maybe years but he was too young to realize it), was a lot for him.