#to be clear I liked the episode I thought it was funny and I knew we were overdue a filler

[bloody-bonesaw]

This new episode is exactly why I stopped trying to predict what's gonna happen before it drops. they fucking. did fnaf

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[clockwayswrites]

Birds and wings and hope Part 13

Masterpost

Danny had thought hat if he finished with Frostbite early that he would spend a few days in the zone to catch up with some of the other ghosts. He hadn’t wanted to with the wings. It wasn’t that Danny was ashamed of the wings, not from the fact of having different features, but Frostbite had seemed certain that Danny was in a heavily mutable state right then. The more people that knew Phantom with wings, the more likely they were to stick as they cemented in consciousness and identity.

Or something like that.

Danny had a whole stack of reading tucked away in his chest to go through later.

Just wanting time alone, Danny had given himself somewhere between an hour and a day (time was hard to tell in the zone) to sulk among the sparks and dust that were long dead stars before forced himself to get a grip and go home. He was an adult for, well, him sake he guessed. He could deal with this.

The reading set on the left side of the coffee table with a fresh notebook next to it. It wouldn’t do to mix up this work with his actual work, so Danny was sure to pick out one with a green cover from the stash that he kept on hand of his favorite dot patterned paper notebooks. He’d draw a blob ghost or something on it later. A few color pens and a highlighter joined the little pile, set in a battered and chipped Amity Park tourist trap mug.

Sam had gotten it for Danny as a present due to the so hideous it was funny caricature of Phantom on it.

On the right side of the coffee table went a box of protein bars, electrolyte drinks, suck’em candies, and Danny’s well stocked pill container. He moved the coffee table a little closer to the couch, turned the TV on to a playlist of Mythbuster episodes, and made sure he had his favorite blanket in hand before he transformed back.

And fuck that hurt. Pain shot up Danny’s back, radiating up through his shoulders, and shooting along his Lichtenberg scars so intensely that they burned. Danny collapsed inelegantly onto the couch with a defeated whimper.

Maybe it was the wings? Did having a different set of limbs as a ghost cause transfered muscle aches to his human form? He didn’t even have muscles as a ghost, not really, but the mind was a very powerful thing and not even Frostbite was entirely sure of how exactly the two parts of a halfa effected each other.

After the worst of the pain had dulled slightly, Danny managed to toss back his medication (missing doses while Phantom never did him any good) and pulled the candies close enough that he could use them as a distraction for his senses. Slowly the muscle relaxant worked its magic and Danny became a boneless lump. The episodes of Mythbusters idly distracted him as he just let his thoughts drift over what Frostbite had said.

Frostbite was sure that there had to be a reason— or several— that Danny’s form had shifted into a bird and after retained the wings still. Frostbite felt the first step to this all, if Danny was determined to either control or to get an understanding of where this all was going, was to understand the subconscious or symbolic particulars of the change.

The why Frostbite felt was clear: Danny had been without a haunt for too long now. Yes, he accepted, the pollen may have certain accelerated matters (hence the full bird then and only the wings now), but Frostbite was admit that the change wouldn’t have been occurring at this stage if Phantom had still been the protector of Amity Park.

Phantom had a purpose in Amity Park. Phantom was a protector and guardian. That guardianship extended to a very limited range. Now that Amity Park was many, many years behind him and Danny was living in a place already full of its own protectors, the Phantom part of Danny was left adrift which allowed for this new stage of ghosthood.

Why couldn’t his ghost half just be happy with a nice long nap?

“Fuck you, Phantom,” Danny grumbled as he watched a car be vaporized upon impact on the screen. Idly Danny wondered if he could get an object up to that speed if he flew fast enough.

Several hours and several protein bars later, Danny was managing to sit up enough to start going through some of the reading Frostbite had sent and make notes. Two more episodes and delivered Indian food later, Danny scrawled on the top of a fresh page ‘The Subconscious & Symbolic Particulars of Wings’.

Why on earth and beyond did he have wings?

‘Flying’, Danny wrote first and then as many reasons he could think of why he loved flying from the freedom of it to space to the way that it felt to move through a cloud. ‘Freedom’ branched off into movement and escape and getting to become his own person without the weight of Amity. ‘Gravity’ and ‘Identity’ sprawled into transformation and his death and the million of ways that it had changed everything about his life.

It was hard to think about.

Danny turned the page.

‘Wings’. Wings and feathers. Birds. Pigeons and crows and ducks and robins. And Robins. Biblically accurate angels who created the cosmos. Hope. And always hope.

“‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers — ”

Hope and Robins and Bats.

And always hope.

Was Gotham his haunt?

Was he the thing with feathers?

---

AN: shhhhh I've been writing as my wind down before sleep. Also special prize for @stoiczee. I promise we'll see more batfam next part. Danny just needed some time to react!

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part four

you missed the paperwork that said joining the BAU meant having an unstable personal life, and Cat Adams is dedicated to making sure you know nothing is ever private

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, couples counseling, spencer's mommy issues, takes place during 15x6 "date night", pregnancy and miscarriage, stillbirth, sexual assault, way too many ellipses, suicide, attempted murder, reader's daddy issues, details from the dirty dozen plotline, mishandled apologies, a lot of yapping, near drowning, disassociation, self harm word count: 9.75k a/n: i hate cat adams so much but god she is so funny in this episode. also cat and spencer shippers are not welcome. why does he look so good in this gif. this is the extent of my coherent thoughts.

“I just made the bed,” you complained halfheartedly, still allowing yourself to be tugged over to the bed despite your protests.

Climbing up on the bed, you tucked yourself into Spencer’s side, so cold after getting out of bed that you wished you could absorb his body heat. “C’mere,” he muttered, placing his hands on either side of your waist and pulling you over him, the two of you meeting face to face. “Hi pretty,” he greeted, craning his head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You smiled slightly against his lips, ducking your head so that your mouths never separated. Mornings away from the bureau were few and far between, so you weren’t interested in wasting a single moment. “Good morning,” you whispered before bringing your lips back to his.

When the phone started to ring, Spencer’s hands fell from your waist in disappointment. He leaned his head back while you rolled off the bed and handed him his phone which he begrudgingly answered, “Hey, what’s up?”

With the phone on speaker, you heard Emily’s voice ring through the phone, “We have a case, it’s urgent,” concern oozed through her tone as you pulled your blazer on over your blouse.

“Alright, we’ll be right in,” he responded for the both of you. Most of the time, they only needed to call one of you.

Emily cleared her throat, “Spencer, there’s something you need to know.”

The thirty-minute drive from the district to Quantico was silent. You decided to drive, not wanting to worry about the metro when there was so much on the line. Barely having put the car in park, Spencer was already flying out of the car and to the elevator.

Several questions rested like a weight on the tip of your tongue and part of you hoped that this was all part of a morbid prank, but you knew when it came to Cat, it was never a joke. Purposefully being the first two people there, you followed Spencer to where Prentiss and Rossi were waiting in the roundtable room, “Catch us up,” he said, walking through the doorway and beginning to study the information on the screen.

“Early this morning Garcia got an email from an anonymous server,” Emily began, looking between the both of you with concern in her eyes.

Dave nodded next to her, “She’s not obscuring her face, telling us she’s got nothing to hide.”

Next to you, Spencer nodded, slipping both of his hands into his pockets, “Any ideas on the victims or UnSub?”

Chewing nervously on the inside of your lip, you looked at the screen carefully. The photo displayed two girls, one of them a teenager, maybe eighteen, and the other couldn’t be much older than ten. You didn’t speak, waiting for the words that you have heard over the phone to be spoken in person.

“No, only the UnSub’s demand that we release Catherine Adams within twenty-four hours. I’m having her transferred here for questioning,” she informed Spencer, “But we have no illusions. This is just a game to her, we know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

In your periphery, you watched the remaining members of the team funnel into the bullpen, each of them placing their belongings on their respective desks before setting up for the day. Glancing back at Spencer, you shrugged almost indeterminably, “Do we have a choice?”

Spencer met your stare before looking back at Emily and Rossi, “Could you guys give us a minute?”

The both of them nodded, switching off the screen before heading out, presumably to begin briefing the remainder of the unit. You listened to the click of the door, waiting for Spencer to say anything.

“I don’t want you in there,” he told you.

You weren’t shocked by his request. When he was released from prison he had wanted to keep you near, going so far as to have you fly with him and your sister to Mount Pleasant because after three months he couldn’t bear to be separated. However, he didn’t want you in the observation room, so you stayed on the sidelines while he spoke with Cat, only hearing bits and pieces after the fact.

Once you nodded, Spencer took a deep breath, “I don’t want her to be able to use you against me. If she even gets the slightest idea that you’re behind the glass… I don’t know what she’ll do.”

Most members of the BAU had their One. The one UnSub that would likely haunt them for the rest of their lives, for Emily it was Ian Doyle, for Rossi it was Tommy Yates, and for Spencer it was Cat. “I’ll stay in the bullpen,” you reassured him, “I won’t leave the building, but I don’t need to listen in.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a timid kiss to your hairline before looking over to where Emily was waving him over.

Grimly, you followed Spencer out of the roundtable room, armed guards pouring through the elevator, signifying that the eagle had landed. You stopped at the glass doors, nestling yourself behind a wall – you didn’t need to see her, and she didn’t deserve to see you.

“She’s a contract killer?” Matt questioned as Spencer, Emily, and Rossi headed to the interrogation room. The only member of the team who hadn’t been around while Spencer was in Millburn, and the only member of the team with no experience with Cat Adams. In your gut, you felt a tug of envy.

Penelope nodded nervously, “She’s much, much more than that.” Her voice wavered slightly. Garcia had her own issues with Cat Adams, months of living in the BAU had left her worse for wear, but it was the best option while being hunted by a group of hit men.

You watched the members of the team as their eyes followed Cat around the hallway. “She’s a black widow,” JJ clarified for Simmons, “She preys on men she can seduce. She thrives on psychological seduction.” Her words made your stomach flip as you remembered everything she had put Spencer through in Mexico and subsequently prison – it was psychological warfare, and he was being sent into the lion’s den.

Luke nodded along to the narrative, “She has a body count that she’s never confirmed, but it’s believed to be in the hundreds.” Last time you had given tallying them up a chance you had almost reached two hundred, but she was only being criminally charged with seventy-three counts.

“She’s one of the most dangerous criminals we’ve ever arrested,” Tara admitted, “and she is obsessed with Reid.”

The group took a collective breath when Cat was fully in the interrogation room, “He’s the only man to ever outsmart her,” you continued. As much as he hated to admit it, everything she had ever said to Spencer had hit its mark, and you felt like your insides were being shredded at the knowledge that he was in there with her.

You flipped through Cat’s prison records once you were sat at your desk, looking up at any slight moment at the hope that someone might tell you what was going on. The prison records were relatively tame outside of what you already knew about her and Wilkins and her involvement with Lindsay Vaughn, but something you hadn’t thought about was her baby.

Spencer had broken the hard truth to Cat that day in Mount Pleasant, she couldn’t be a good mother. Her psychopathy would make it so that she would grow bored with a baby the same way a child would bore of a doll. You wondered how she viewed her miscarriage. Some psychopaths had the capacity to mourn, but you weren’t sure Cat fell within that demographic.

Her medical record painted a horrifying picture. She had been so far along that the baby had been delivered stillborn. Your stomach flipped at the charts, closing them before moving to the kitchenette to refill your coffee.

On your way, you saw Spencer through the glass doors, changing course so you could catch him before he went back. You veered around the corner, not wanting to call out his name before he turned into an interview room. Lagging behind, you kept yourself hidden, feeling like you were intruding and starting to walk backward, away from him.

Until you heard a crash and a shout, at which point you pivoted and returned to the interview room. A few agents started rubbernecking at the door, trying to see what was going on, “Keep walking,” you ordered them, pointing away from the room.

Inside the room, Spencer had haphazardly discarded his tie on the floor before proceeding to swipe everything off of the bookshelf. He didn’t acknowledge you as you stepped into the room, he just paced, placing his hand on his chest as he tried to self-regulate.

You tried to go around him, wanting to pick up the fallen books before anyone noticed what had happened, but before you could, Spencer grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. Getting over the initial startle, you reached out your arms and wrapped them around him, “I’m right here.”

“I’m struggling,” he admitted to you, holding you tightly against him. His time in prison felt like lifetimes ago at this point, but the way he hugged you reminded you of the day he got out – the last time you had to deal with Cat Adams.

His openness about his feelings helped to ease your own anxiety, and you were able to look up at him and offer a comforting smile, “That’s alright. This isn’t easy.” You kept your eyes on him, readjusting his rumpled collar and messy hair, “Why don’t you go get some water? I’ll take care of this,” you offered, holding your hand up when he tried to protest.

Spencer left without a fight, and you tried to reassemble the books and trinkets in the way they had previously been before wiping your palms on your jeans and walking back into the bullpen.

The team was gathering in the roundtable room, exchanging information and proposing ideas, “The victimology’s off,” Spencer said, gesturing to the screen where the two girls were being displayed.

“How so?” Tara asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing between your fiancé and the screen.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Two young girls. She’s never done anything like this before.”

Agreeing, Tara looked around the table, “She usually targets men that remind her of her father. Children, even adult children are off limits.” She turned to Penelope, “Do we have an ID yet?”

Waving a fuzzy pen in the air, Penelope sighed, “You would think a parent or someone would notice, but there’s nothing coming up in any of my searches.”

“What do we know about the partner who’s been helping her?” Rossi asked no one in particular, looking to anyone who might have an answer.

Matt leaned his elbows over the table, “It’s gotta be someone from her prison. She wasn’t in contact with anyone else. We can start with known associates who were recently released,” he looked to Garcia, who nodded astutely before typing furiously on her laptop.

You spoke up from the doorway, slipping Spencer’s discarded tie into your back pocket, “I have a list going of associates at Mount Pleasant, we can do some comparing and contrasting,” you offered.

“Oh, I do love a good Venn diagram,” Penelope concurred, smiling before scooping up her laptop and making her way back to the lair.

Taking her seat, you uncomfortably sat next to JJ, leaning your knees toward Rossi so that you didn’t accidentally touch her legs. “Okay, can I tell you what’s been bugging me?” Your sister asked rhetorically, “Every time we’ve gone up against Cat, there’s the presenting agenda and the hidden one. If she sticks to pattern, this isn’t just about going on a date with Spencer.”

You considered the idea of her not having a secondary agenda but she had already veered so far off from her usual M.O. that everything else needed to follow the arbitrary rules in her mind.

“Right now, she’s a fixed variable,” Emily counseled, “We need to focus on identifying the UnSub and her victims.”

At that, everyone parted ways except for you and Spencer, you stayed flipping through folders of research you had on Cat Adams, ranging from her time as Miss .45 to her years in Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility. Spencer stood, hands on the back of your chair as he looked at the pictures being projected on the screen.

Every time Cat Adams came up, each topic you even slightly associated with her resurfaced – Diana’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, Mexico, Millburn, and now the two of you were just barely recovering from the fallout of your sister’s truth. You were overwhelmed, and if you were overwhelmed, Spencer had to be on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered despite the empty room, “Tell me what to do.”

You took a deep breath before turning your head and looking up at him, “I can’t tell you what to do. This is your decision.”

He sighed, lowering himself down in the chair next to you and resting his chin in his hand, “Then don’t tell me what to do, but I would like your input. Your thoughts, feelings,” he amended.

Smiling despite yourself, you looked over at him, “Someone’s paying attention in couple’s therapy,” you said lightly, setting your hand gently on his knee.

“I just need to know if we’re on the same page or if I’m going to mess everything up,” he said, bringing his free hand to where yours rested and threading your fingers together.

You leaned back in the office chair, shrugging slightly before you answered, “I think you should go.”

Spencer frowned, “What?”

“I think you should go on the date with Cat,” you iterated.

Clearly, that wasn’t what he had expected from you, “I don’t- You want me to go on a date with someone else?”

You flipped your file shut before looking back at him, “If I had the liberty to look at this situation as just your fiancé I would, but I’m not just your fiancé. I’m an FBI agent and I’m looking at these girls,” you gestured to the screen, “and I know that our best chance of finding them might just be sending you on a date with Cat.” You took a deep breath, “She always trips up and she always does it with you. It’s your call, at the end of the day, you don’t need to go if it’s not something you want to have to experience, but you asked for my thoughts, so there they are.”

Spencer looked conflicted as he considered his options, “I’ve- We’ve come so far recently. I’d hate to ruin all of that.”

Shaking your head, you smiled at his concern, “Solving the case has to come first this time, love.”

He nodded in agreement, standing up and keeping your hands intertwined, “Come with me,” he encouraged, nearly dragging you over to the interrogation room where Cat was. He opened the door to the observation room and brought you in with him.

You averted your eyes so that you didn’t have to look at her – possibly the only woman you would throttle given the chance – and just waited for Emily, who was getting more details.

Waiting for the door to close behind her, Spencer listened for the click before speaking up, “Well, what are her demands?”

Emily looked exasperated, sharing a look with you before responding, “She wants to go ice skating so she can skate circles around you. She’s wasting our time.”

And her own, you thought, Cat didn’t have much time to make an arrangement with Spencer, eventually, she’d just be sent back to prison. Ice skating would never get approved anyway. No matter how you try to spin it, no one would give her a blade.

The door opened, taking attention away from Cat and onto Penelope, who looked confused and mildly disturbed, “Okay,” she started, “Something weird happened, but it could be a lead. I just got a bazillion voicemail messages, all from the same address on Fourth Street.”

While Tara and Luke checked out the potential lead on Fourth, you stayed sat at your desk, listening carefully to the bustling office around you. Up in Emily’s office, you heard your sister and Simmons updating your unit chief, “We found the UnSub, her name is Juliette Weaver – it took the prison all of five minutes to identify her.”

You filtered through your file in front of you, looking for the information you had on Weaver while Matt continued speaking, “She was Cat’s old cellmate. Released from prison six months ago, off the grid a week ago.”

“What was she in for?” Rossi asked and you wondered if they knew how well voices carried into the bullpen.

Matt cleared his throat before responding, “Low-level possession, she took the rap for her boyfriend, but according to the warden, she’d follow Cat around like a puppy dog.”

Your unit chief hummed thoughtfully, “Easily manipulated. So, Cat groomed her, got her to take orders.” Much like she had done with Lindsey Vaughn, convincing her to destroy Spencer’s life – you wondered if Juliette considered Cat her lover too.

“It goes deeper than that,” JJ interjected, “Cat and Juliette have something in common.”

“Juliette’s dad killed her mom in a domestic dispute. Then he fled and was never caught,” Matt resumed, surprising you.

As you imagined the surprise on Emily’s face, she responded, “That’s exactly what happened with Cat’s parents.”

You watched them in the office as Matt set something down on Emily’s desk, “Yeah, so we did a little digging into Susan. We thought that she might’ve been Juliette’s mom, but she’s not.”

“She’s Cat’s,” Rossi realized.

Matt hummed in confirmation, “Susan Adams, unidentified cold case from 1987. She was found floating in the water on the Potomac. Thanks to that picture, the case isn’t cold anymore.”

Turning your attention back to the information you had on Cat’s former cellmates, you looked over Juliette’s personal information. There wasn’t much on her, but there were some details about her family – including two younger sisters. You would likely need Garcia to confirm it for you, but you had a good feeling that the two girls being held captive were Juliette’s sisters. If that was Juliette’s stake in this, you were no closer to figuring out what Cat’s endgame was.

Looking up at your computer, you thought about the first time Spencer and Cat had gone head-to-head. It had been almost four years to the date. You frowned at your monitor, “It’s an anniversary,” you whispered to no one in particular.

“What was that?” Luke asked from his desk, adjusting his Kevlar vest as he prepared to be the chaperone for the date.

Double-checking the dates, you turned to face him as you clarified, “Four years, almost to the date of the day Spencer arrested Cat.”

Luke nodded in understanding, “That’s why she chose now to act. It wasn’t just that she was running out of time, this was the perfect time for her to get into Reid’s mind.”

Scoffing, you gathered up your papers and walked up to Emily’s office, if Cat wanted to meddle, fine, but you could play her game too.

Four years, you thought to yourself. Spencer had been on family leave for months, and taking down Cat was his first case back. You wish you had known back then how much that case would affect the next four years of his life.

The team gathered when it was time, the remaining eight standing outside of the glass doors to the unit and watching and Spencer and Cat strolled through the hallway. She had been cleaned up, some poor agent sent out to find a date-appropriate outfit for her, and she was holding onto Spencer like he was a prize she had won at a fair.

Spencer’s face was blank. No, worse than that, he was completely absent. Separating himself from what was going on with Cat. It horrified you, every time you saw Spencer retreat into himself it made you sick to your stomach. You were grateful Luke was going with them, he was someone Spencer trusted to make the right calls.

For the first time that day, you and Cat locked eyes, glaring at each other in a battle of wills, “Don’t wait up,” she called out to you, winking before the heavy elevator doors slid shut.

Slowly, your group dispersed, going back to trying to figure out Cat and Juliette’s endgame. You looked at your files, but you couldn’t focus, you could barely breathe. Spencer would be safe. He was smart enough to evade anything Cat threw at him, but she seemed to chip at him every time they saw each other.

You swung in your office chair, trying to form an even semi-helpful thought as your sister came up to your desk, “Hey.”

Peeling your eyes away from the folders, you looked up at her, “Hi,” you responded, slightly confused.

JJ sat on the edge of your desk, crossing her ankles so her legs didn’t dangle, and she looked at you, blonde hair curtained around her face.

There wasn’t much for you to do until the date started and Spencer could fish for answers with Cat, but even so, you weren’t interested in holding a staring contest with your sister. “Did you need anything?” You felt like it was a gentle enough question, there was no reason for you to bring your hostile family relationship to work with you. Everyone knew there was something happening between the two of you, but no one knew precisely what it was.

Her eyebrows creased briefly, “I thought we could talk, just for a minute.”

You unceremoniously dropped your pen on your desk, leaning back and looking at your sister incredulously, “Kind of shit timing, don’t you think?”

“I invited you for dinner last night and you didn’t show up. Every time I come up to you at work you start a conversation with someone else,” she tried to explain herself.

It was exactly as she thought – you were avoiding her. You had no interest in repairing your familial tie, your thread of gold had frayed beyond repair. “I was busy last night, I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it. You’re the one who didn’t believe me.”

She sighed defeatedly, “Thursdays used to be your best night. You’d always come for dinner on Thursday nights like clockwork, are you telling me that changed overnight?”

You bit your tongue, but it wasn’t that you were trying to stop yourself from sniping at her, you were trying to stop yourself from telling her where you were last night. Thursday evening was your weekly couples counseling appointment and your sister didn’t need to be privy to the inner workings of your relationship. Besides that, none of this had been overnight – you hadn’t been over for dinner in months now.

For every single milestone that you reached with Spencer, JJ was the first person you told, but when you got engaged, she found out the news secondhand through Penelope. You knew you had hurt her. Maybe it wasn’t the same as her love confession, but you hurt her, and you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize. You weren’t entirely sure if you should apologize.

“I’m telling you that I didn’t snub you on dinner, JJ. I was busy, I couldn’t come,” you told her, keeping your tone level as you looked up at her.

Her expression soured, “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

Forever, if you could help it, but you couldn’t tell her that. Despite your anger, despite the sadness that thinking too hard about all of this brought you, you knew that you weren’t capable of holding your sister at arm’s length for the rest of your life. “JJ, I’m not-“ you cut yourself off. “When I found out that you were in love with Spencer, I promised myself that I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you lowered your voice, conscious of the bustling bullpen around you. “I’ve kept that promise. I can’t blame you for loving him when I know everything he has ever done that makes him loveable. I love him too. So, in whatever convoluted way you want to look at it, I understand where you’re coming from.”

She nodded in what seemed like agreement, “Ducky, I’ve known him for fifteen years, I couldn’t-“

“You see,” you interrupted her, “That’s where my understanding runs out. Just because you’ve known him longer doesn’t give you the right to come into our relationship and fuck everything up. Yes, Jennifer, you’ve known him for fifteen years, but you rejected him. You rejected him and ended up with someone else. Thirteen years after meeting Will, you told Spencer you were in love with him. Do you know how wrong that is?”

JJ’s shoulders slumped forward, “Yes, but-“

You held up your hand, stopping her from speaking, “No, JJ. There’s no ‘but’. What you did was wrong. You can try to justify it to me in whatever way you want, but what you did will always be wrong. It will always affect our relationship. Your love for Spencer is the ghost haunting our house and there are no Ouija boards in the world that can translate for me,” You cringed at your figure of speech, but you went along with it anyway.

“You’re engaged, so there’s obviously a way through this for the two of you,” she tried to argue, but you could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

Pausing, you picked at the dry skin around your nails, “Spencer and I had a really long and exhaustive talk a few weeks ago.”

She raised her eyebrows, “I know, I read the police blotter.”

You rolled your eyes, that hadn’t been a fun talk with Emily, but at least she prevented your dispute from reaching HR. “Yeah, we had a loud talk. We figured things out. We’re still figuring things out, but we decided that we’d rather do that together than apart.”

“I helped him pick the ring,” she confessed. “About a year ago and I thought… I thought he’d tell me before asking.”

Instinctively, your eyes flicked down to your left hand, “For what it’s worth, it was all very spur of the moment.”

JJ shook her head, “Why are you trying to comfort me right now?”

“God, JJ. I might be pissed at you, but you’re still my sister,” you snapped at her. “While I might want to, I can’t just cut you out of my life and I can’t stop myself from caring about you. If you want to work on our relationship, owning up to your mistakes is a good start. Spencer came clean to me and now we’re engaged, but that doesn’t negate the fact that this was broken in the first place. You don’t get to brush this under the rug.”

“You wouldn’t let me brush it under the rug anyway,” she retorted.

Your head snapped up to her, “Is that what you want? To forget any of this ever happened?”

She was quiet for a while before responding, “Yes.”

You pressed your lips together and studied her briefly, “Well, I can’t give you that.”

JJ opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but Emily beat her to it, calling out to you from the doorway of her office, “Do you have a second?”

The ceiling of your apartment was only interesting for a limited amount of time. You’d spent years in the apartment, tracing the patterns with your eyes just felt redundant now.

Emily had benched you. She disguised it as giving you the rest of the night off, but you were effectively taken off the case. She couldn’t claim it was a conflict of interest, everyone on the team had a conflict of interest with Cat Adams, but that’s what she thought it was.

You sat down on the couch, drumming your fingers on your denim-clad thigh while you waited for a phone call – you’d even take a text message.

Wallowing in your own boredom, you listened to the sounds of the city. Where the two of you lived, it was hectic during the day and became more manageable at night, but it was still the city. Cars drove by, sirens wailed, people chatted along the sidewalk, and people spoke in the hallway.

No, actually, people talking in your hallway was abnormal. Sitting up, you looked at the front door, considering going to snoop in on your neighbor’s conversation.

You didn’t even have the time to decide before the door opened, revealing Spencer and Cat in the middle of what seemed like a rather intense kiss.

He pulled away, looking into the apartment and seeming surprised to see you.

Standing up, your arms dangled limply at your sides, “Oh, Spence.”

Holding up a finger, he silently begged you to wait. You couldn’t hear anything that came out of his mouth, everything was muffled as you fought back the tears that were burning your eyes.

You didn’t talk again until Cat spoke to you. “What?”

She laughed slightly and you could hear your heart pounding, “Did it make you mad when I kissed your fiancé?”

You hated her. Your mother would tell you that hate is a strong word, and you still didn’t care, you hated her. “No,” you lied through your teeth.

Innocently, her eyebrows raised, “Why not?”

Four years. Four years of her haunting Spencer. You thought back to that first meeting at the restaurant and responded, “No offense, but you’re not really worth getting mad at.”

Her eyes lit up and even though you knew better, you were proud of yourself for striking a nerve. With a psychopath, that was a dangerous game. Before long, she meandered around the furniture in your home and sat in the reading chair, she looked at you, “Oh, sweetheart, we have so much to talk about. I’m so glad Spencie finally decided to introduce us.”

Anxiously, your eyes flicked over to Spencer’s. Worse than your own anxiety, he looked angry, an uncommon expression for him to wear. “It’s nice to have a real conversation with you,” you gratified her.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight I want you both here to make a point,” she watched Spencer as the two of you waited for the ball to drop. “You could do so much better, because girl,” she turned to look at you, “You need to know the truth about him.”

Pinching your brows together, you looked at Cat, “What are you talking about?”

She smiled to herself, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder, “He told me that no matter what, he can’t get me out of his mind.”

“Everything I said to her tonight was a lie,” Spencer interjected, doing damage control on your relationship while Cat tried to take it apart.

Cat scoffed, “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

There was a time when Spencer was under the impression that he had been sexually assaulted by Cat in Mexico, and during that time, you were afraid of him hurting himself. You were in the lion’s den with him now and you had to rely on your gut. He wouldn’t kiss her unless it was his last resort. He wouldn’t do that to himself. He wouldn’t do that to you. Still, you forced yourself to look at him and answer her question, “No.”

“Thank you, now we’re getting to the heart of the matter,” she resumed smugly, obviously pleased with your response and she stood up, putting her hands on everything around the apartment. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is- is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who uh, always saves the day and has all the answers and has… zero mommy issues, right?” She pointedly tipped over a photo of Diana before she continued flouncing around the apartment, “But um, I know the real him.”

Spencer looked at her incredulously and you wished you could hear what he was thinking at that moment, “Yeah? Who’s the real me, Cat?”

She cocked her head at you, the faux pity in her eyes made you nauseous, “The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls and hisses that he’s going to kill them.”

He faltered and you knew she had hit her mark, “That was a very different situation.”

“Was it?” She challenged, looking at him for a rebuttal, but the vacant look was coming back to his eyes.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you met his eyes, “What is she talking about?”

You had been in Mount Pleasant that day. For all of the things she knew about, she didn’t know that you had been there, and you could use that against her, but you’d likely hurt Spencer in the process.

“You tell her,” Cat insisted, “She’s not gonna believe it coming from me.” With a flourish, she sat back down in the chair, crossing her legs as she watched her entertainment for the night.

Spencer pursed his lips, leaning forward as his eyes flicked between the two of you, “Just like tonight, she got under my skin and-“

“You threw her against a wall,” you finished, displaying your comprehension of the story to Cat and reminding Spencer that you already knew.

Cat stood back up, dragging a hand along your shoulders, sending goosebumps sprawling across your skin. “Don’t skimp on the details, Spencie,” she goaded him. “She deserves to know everything.”

The terrible feeling you’d had all day worsened as you realized where she was going with this. It was the natural continuation of the story for her even if it wasn’t the truth.

“She was pregnant at the time, and I knew that when I hurt her,” Spencer admitted, the shame he felt emanating from him in waves.

You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person, you remembered telling him. You wanted to tell him that now, but she’d never let you.

Cat looked at you, a devilish glint in her eye as she rounded out her fabrication, “And the next day I miscarried. The end.”

Your breathing hitched as you saw Spencer retreat completely into himself, “What? That’s not true.”

Her head snapped over to him, “It most certainly is true, check my medical records.”

“That doesn’t- I would-“ He stuttered, but it was too late.

“Stop,” she interjected, nodding her head in your direction, “Look.”

You were choking on the truth. You wanted to scream at her and simultaneously tell Spencer that she was lying to him. The words weren’t coming out, the only thing you had were tears. They were streaming down your face as you looked at nobody and nothing, sitting on your hands.

No one said anything for a while before Spencer sat down, keeping his distance from you, “I’m sorry.”

“Notice how your fiancé is apologizing to you and not me,” Cat instructed you, you peered up at her through wet eyelashes. “Men are all the same, aren’t they Ducky?”

Spencer jumped to your defense as you blanched at the nickname, “Don’t call her that,” he snapped.

Cat inclined her head toward him, “What, are you going to throw me up against the wall and choke me or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

Of all of the things for Cat to know about you, your childhood nickname wasn’t what you expected. You looked at her and met her eyes through your bleary ones, “Why are you doing this?”

You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, but you couldn’t take it back now, “Because I want you to see it,” she explained. “I want you to see that he is no better than all the men you chase. All the men who have hurt you before.”

“Stop,” you pleaded, staring at the floor in front of you.

Cat crouched next to you, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “I can see it in your face. Why did you flinch when I used your nickname?”

Your nostrils flared, “It’s none of your business,” you insisted.

She laughed at your attempted assertion, “Oh, but it is. In fact, it’s my specialty. Is he nearby? I could send Juliette over to say hi,” she offered.

“Say yes,” Spencer interjected, “Give her what she wants.”

Glaring at him, Cat waved him off, “He wants you to get me to make a phone call so they can trace it. You’re so good, the BAU.”

You shook your head helplessly, “I never wanted to be involved in this sick, twisted game between the two of you.” Even still, you had never been given the choice. Emily sent you home under the guise of waiting out the date only for it to be a trap.

Cat mock-pouted, “Tell me your story, Ducky, and I promise I will give Juliette a call and those two girls will be safe and sound.”

And that was the end of it. You couldn’t let your cowardice cost those girls their lives – or whatever Cat had planned for them.

“Come on, little duck,” she prodded at you, “It’s story time.”

Spencer shook his head, “Y/N, it’s a trap.”

Scoffing, Cat sat next to you, “It is so tricky, isn’t it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath… or me?”

Desperately, you looked up at Spencer and his face fell as he realized what you were doing. “My sister gave it to me,” you told her.

Impishly, she smiled, “Jennifer?”

“No,” you answered, “Roslyn, and don’t interrupt.” You frowned, piling your hands in your lap as you searched for the story. “I don’t remember it, but when I was learning how to walk I… waddled. So, when I would walk around Roz would follow me and make duck sounds, and I would mimic her. She started calling me Ducky after that and it just stuck.”

She smiled at you knowingly, “That is so sweet. How could you hate such a heartfelt nickname from your dearly departed sister?”

You shook your head, “I don’t hate it,” you insisted.

Cat cocked her head at you, “Tell me,” she goaded. “Tell me or I ruin her life.”

Quickly, you looked up at Spencer and made sure he caught the slip up too. The two of you shared a suspicious look before you continued, “My parents put me in school early, I started kindergarten when I was four and I learned early that kids were cruel. They would follow me around and quack,” you laughed despite yourself, what had seemed heinous as a child would barely make you spare a glance as an adult. “One day, we were doing a class craft, and they put glue and feathers on my seat so they stuck to my skirt when I stood up,” you told her, recalling the way your poor mother had to leave work to help you pick feathers from your skirt.

Next to you, Cat lifted a hand to her mouth, fake yawning as she waited for you to get to the man of it all.

“When she got home, I yelled at Roslyn,” You’d spiraled about this so many times in adulthood that you were surprised it had any effect on you anymore. “I told her I hated her. I told her she was a bad sister, and I wanted her to go away,” you admitted, fighting off tears again. “She skipped dinner that night and the next morning she… JJ found her. In the bathroom. She had slit her wrists with our father’s razor blade.”

Spencer’s brown eyes bore into you, reflecting the same sadness that you were sure was on your own face, “You were only four, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t help,” Cat snarked.

“Cat,” Spencer snapped.

Frustrated, you wiped under your eyes, “My dad blamed me. He told me he would give me up if it meant she would come back, and he’s maintained that sentiment ever since.” You knew now that there were other things Roslyn had been struggling with at the time, but part of you would always have the nagging feeling that you had a role in your sister’s suicide.

“So, you understand me,” she said matter-of-factly.

Confused, you lifted your head to look at her, “What?”

She scooted closer to you, “You understand why I’ve killed all of them. Those men,” she clarified.”

You looked at her, “No, Cat, I don’t understand you. I hate my dad, but I don’t want to kill him. I don’t prey on the deaths of the people that I hate, and that’s the difference between me and you. I want my dad to have to live with the fact that he’s a horrible person. I want him to live with what he did to me, to my family.”

Cat narrowed her eyes at you, “And he didn’t even visit you after you got shot.”

Out of guilt, you had assumed. His guilty conscience was the only thing that kept him away. After all, almost thirty years of telling you that it should’ve been you, the universe almost came through for him. “Give me the location,” you said, holding her to her end of the bargain.

Groaning, she held out her hand for your phone so she could put the location into your map. Once you had what you needed, you started making your way out, hearing her call after you, “Keep your head above water, Ducky!”

You kept moving, your feet moving beneath you even though your heart wanted to drop to the floor, you charged out the door, ignoring Emily as she tried to comfort you. Luke followed you out of the apartment building, neither of you speaking until you handed your phone to Luke, showing him the location. “Stay here, I’ll call the team and get them to meet here,” he told you, lifting your phone to let you know he was taking it with him.

Trailing behind him anyway, you got into the passenger seat of the SUV, “I have to go, Luke. It’s… I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, but Luke generally wasn’t one to argue with you. “Okay, but I’m still calling for backup.”

It wasn’t a far drive, in fact, months ago this bridge had been a regular stopping point when you went on walks, but as soon as you stepped out of the car and heard the water running below you, you froze.

There were flashing lights all around you, and the only thing you could do was watch as Juliette held onto the older of her two sisters at the edge of the bridge. The younger girl was calling out for her sister. Vaguely, you heard Matt trying to talk Juliette into letting them go.

The little girl screamed as Juliette shoved her sister off of the bridge, putting her hands up once the crime had been committed. Luke called for search and rescue through his comm, and you watched the little girl, just as old as JJ when Roslyn passed away.

Keep your head above water.

You didn’t remember much about Roslyn’s funeral, it was mostly JJ straightening your dress and fiddling with her necklace, but that singular event had changed the entire course of your life.

The screaming continued even as you ran to the edge of the bridge, not garnering anyone’s attention until it was too late, and Luke shouted your name as you dove off of the platform.

Afterward, the first thing you would remember was the pain. You absorbed the shock of hitting the water through your arms, causing strain on both of them. The darkness of the water was just as you imagined it would be. That is, until you rose to the surface, met with dozens of flashlights shining down on you.

People called your name, but you just looked around the water, listening for splashing as you hoped to find Juliette’s sister.

There was a gasp behind you, the both of you treading as best you could, but the water was cold, and she slipped under. Impulsivity was never your strong suit, so you hadn’t really considered the way your hands would go numb until you put an arm around her waist, trying to keep her head above the water.

“Y/N!” Matt called from the riverbed, shining his flashlight over at you while you tried to support the girl. It wasn’t easy, you ducked your head under the water and pushed her up, the darkness of the water threatening to swallow you whole.

Hoisting her up, you felt your teammates pull her from the water and sighed, forgetting where you were.

You gagged on the water before reaching up your arms, letting yourself be pulled out. The shock of the air on your lungs was nearly as bad as that of the water, but as you coughed up water on the dirt, you heard the girl start coughing as well.

Her body would have been dumped right where Cat’s mother had been found, and that little girl would have lost her big sister, just like you did. It was the only thing you could think of as you were brought back to the BAU because Emily was insistent on debriefing.

“You dove into the water?” Emily asked before ordering one of the desk agents to go find something for you to change into.

Your wet clothes clung pathetically to your skin as you nodded, “Yeah, I did.”

Luke smiled next to you, “It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“It’s reckless is what it is,” Emily said, studying your damp state, “Go up to my office and turn the space heater, we need to thaw you.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked up to Emily’s office and opened the door, turning the knob on the space heater before sitting on the little couch in her office. Placing your ring on the coffee table to dry, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You waited for the desk agent to return with clothes and instead were surprised when your sister came through the doorway with a pile of clothes in hand. “Hey,” she said, lifting the clothes, “Fresh from the Academy laundry.”

She closed the blinds as you stripped down to your tank top, pulling the sweatshirt over your head before swapping out your pants as well.

“How do you feel?” She asked gently, standing across from you hesitantly.

You looked down at your new clothes, “I feel like FBI Academy propaganda,” you responded, sitting back down on the couch.

Raising her eyebrows, she looked at you intently, “I meant after… everything tonight.”

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you looked up at your sister, “It never had anything to do with Spencer,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips before sitting next to you, “Well, it’s always Cat’s goal to get under Spencer’s skin. She just chose to use you to do it this time.”

You would probably never know how Cat managed to know so much about you. Honestly, you probably didn’t want to know. This time next week, Cat Adams would be dead, and that would just have to be enough for you.

“I can’t believe you jumped into the river,” JJ said in disbelief, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

Shyly, you shrugged at her, “I saw a little girl about to lose her big sister and I couldn’t let her go through that kind of pain.”

Your sister nodded in understanding, “She was eleven?”

You nodded slowly, “And her sister was seventeen,” you whispered.

Part of you felt like you had been staring at an alternate universe all evening. “So,” JJ said, moving the conversation, “Spencer’s on his way back. He’ll probably want to talk to you, clear some things up.”

“Will you sit with me until he does?” You asked softly, afraid of her sniping back about forgiveness, but she didn’t. That wasn’t the way JJ worked, she just nodded, leaning back against the cushions and letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

She didn’t get up and leave until Spencer arrived, she went to meet him in the bullpen, and you waited for the moment someone told him where you were. There was a sensation you had never experienced before, but you felt so separate from your own actions. Despite your still wet hair, you barely remembered diving into the water.

You sensed another psychological evaluation in your future.

The rotating heater warmed you in waves as you listened to your team. They filled Spencer in on everything that had happened tonight, from Juliette’s sisters to Cat’s real plan. “She…” Spencer stammered, “She told me Y/N had a big decision to make tonight. Where is she?”

Blankly, you stared ahead at the heater, wondering what they’d tell him and what they’d save for you. “Well, she may have jumped into the Potomac,” Matt told him tentatively, his voice was gentle as he dropped the bomb.

“She dove actually,” Luke corrected, and you imagined him being proud of his redress.

Emily cleared her throat, ever the mediator, and finally answered Spencer’s question, “She’s up in my office getting warm.”

There were no more questions after that, but you recognized the footsteps as Spencer approached the office. His knock was timid, but he didn’t wait for you to respond before opening the door.

His hair was awry, you supposed yours didn’t look much better, and his breathing was uneven. A symptom, you assumed, of finding out you had jumped into the fourth largest river on the Atlantic coast. “Hi,” you waved nervously.

At the same time, he spoke, “I’m so sorry.”

There was no use in pussyfooting around, “Did you want to talk now, then?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly, “I can’t… I’m so tired of things looming over our heads.”

You sighed, folding your hands in your lap, “That cumulonimbus has been there for quite some time, hasn’t it?”

“I just cheated on you and you’re making cloud jokes?” Spencer asked in disbelief. At some point in the night, he had lost his jacket, leaving him in a rumpled dress shirt.

Turning to stone, you paused. Maybe it was the Potomac water that you had ingested, maybe it was the other events of the evening, but you had brushed off the kiss between him and Cat nearly immediately. “I guess I didn’t really think of it that way,” you admitted.

He leaned back on Emily’s desk, “All of these problems we’ve been having, and we were just beginning to make headway. I went and ruined it.”

Raising your eyebrows, you looked at Spencer quizzically, “Okay, well, now you’re catastrophizing.”

“I made a choice years ago that resulted in you facing one of your biggest fears tonight, you’re shaking, and your clothes are in a sopping pile on the ground,” he explained as if you weren’t well aware. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

“I think you just had a shitty night spent with a woman who has a knack for convincing you you’re evil, so you’re telling me how evil you are right now,” you responded, leaning back on the couch cushions. “You’re not evil and you’re barely a cheater,” you told him, “I’d love to lay out all of the evidence for you, but I’m exhausted and I’d rather we just go home.”

One look at Spencer told you that you weren’t going to be getting what you wanted tonight, the histrionics of your evening weren’t over. “I made you cry,” he said meekly. He said it like it was the worst thing he could ever do to you.

“I’m the one who told you to go! I might not be a genius, but I’m smart enough to have considered the fact that Cat would try to make a move.” Groaning, you covered your face with your arms, “Spencer, Cat made me cry. I had to sit back and watch her manipulate you into believing you caused her miscarriage.”

“You knew?” He breathed.

You nodded, dropping your arms and looking at him miserably, “Yes, I knew the truth, and it killed me to not be able to tell you.”

Waiting for him to respond was agonizing. You desperately wanted to apologize for not telling him as soon as you found out about Cat’s baby, but you didn’t think it was important information at the time.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Spencer finally spoke. “I thought… I couldn’t handle it if you thought that I’d-“

Quickly, you shook your head and waved your hands, “No, Spence. I knew the truth from the get-go.”

He was quiet, shuffling his feet on the carpet before he looked up at you. He opened his mouth to speak but second-guessed himself before sealing his lips and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Watching you for a moment, he spoke, “Do you remember when you asked me what my truth would’ve been? If Pinkner had asked me instead of JJ?”

“We should go to bed.”

“Wait, what’s your truth?”

“My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep.”

Part of you wanted to ask if he wanted to do this now, after the day the two of you had, you’d be perfectly content with going home and leaving this conversation for tomorrow. Instead, you nodded, “Yes, you ignored it.”

Spencer chuckled nervously, “You had been spending weeks looking for a reason to pick a fight with me. I didn’t think you would accept my answer for what it was.”

“The truth,” you drew your own conclusion, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

Slowly, he knelt on the ground in front of you, “You were looking for me to tell you that I shared JJ’s feelings. You wanted me to say that you were my second choice, but that has never, ever been my truth. It never has been.”

Swallowing thickly, you reached your hands out and took his in yours, gently skimming the pads of your thumbs over the back of his hands, “Spencer, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he whispered.

“What’s your truth?” You asked him softly, approaching the topic like a deer in the woods.

He looked down at your intertwined hands, noting the fact that you had taken your ring off before he responded, “I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to the expectations of others. I went to Caltech, then MIT, and then I was recruited to the BAU. Through all that, I was under the impression that I was letting people down.”

This was a familiar conversation to you. You once spent hours talking him off of a metaphorical ledge because he hadn’t cured schizophrenia.

“I’m not the perfect son, who sent his mother away a week after turning eighteen,” an action that had almost gotten him killed. “I’m not a perfect agent and I’m not a perfect friend because the expectations set for me are too high, but I’m not a perfect boyfriend or fiancé either. It’s not because you hold me to a certain standard, it’s because I failed you.”

Your eyes widened at his admission, “Spencer, no, you didn’t.” Your chest ached at the thought of this living in his head. He had been living while paralyzed by the weight of the expectations of others when he just wanted one thing - to feel normal.

He waved you off, “Do you remember what you asked me? On that date in the shooting range?”

Seven years ago, shortly after Emily left for Interpol, you and Spencer had an impromptu date at the shooting range. “I asked you not to break my heart.”

“And I have, haven’t I? Time and time again,” he asked rhetorically, not looking for an answer even when you wanted to prove him wrong. “You’ve watched me get shot, you’ve seen me in handcuffs, beaten, kidnapped, fired – and you’ve never wavered. You have loved me through it all, and I haven’t reciprocated fairly. I had never known unconditional love, and I think you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to it. I get put on this pedestal by everyone I meet and you’re the only person who has ever made me feel average. I know average is usually used with a negative connotation, but in this case, I mean it positively. You don’t have outlandish requests from me, all you’ve ever asked for is love, and I… I’m never going to be able to verbalize how much that means to me. How much you mean to me.”

“Spencer,” you tried to interject.

His eyes met yours, his brown irises slightly bleary as he looked at you intently, “I am so sorry. I’m sorry about your sister and I’m sorry about kissing Cat and I’m sorry about all of the ways I have broken your heart and if you… if this is where you need to call it, then I completely understand.”

“Spencer,” you echoed.

He tilted his head to the side, “What?”

You raised your eyebrows, “My ring is over there, on the coffee table, will you put it back on for me?”

“Do you mean it?” He asked, reaching behind him for the ring without waiting for your answer.

Holding out your left hand, you nodded, “There have been a lot of wrongs – from the both of us, but I don’t… I can’t hold the JJ thing against you anymore. You’re verifiably a genius. So, if you tell me that the only thing that would’ve pleased Cat is kissing her, then I’ll believe you. I trust you, and if I lose that, then I lose myself.”

He seemingly thought about it for a moment before responding, “It was the only thing I could think of, and I promise I will make this up to you.”

Smiling softly, you flexed your fingers once he slid the ring back on, relishing the feel of the metal on your finger. “Then it’s a good thing you’re only getting married once, it gives you a lot of time to make it up to me.”

“Did you have any ideas?” He asked a little too eagerly.

You beamed, “Oh, I have a few.”  

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[miwiheroes]

What if Mike’s gay from the beginning of S5?

Back in 2022, when i first watched season 4, as I've said in other posts, I was sceptical of byler ever happening. I thought maybe Will was queer-coded because of the names they were calling him in the seasons leading up, but I didn't really get on board with the ship being canon. However, when I watched the opening of season 4, and El said 'maybe it is for a girl, I think there is someone he likes' I knew that Will was being written as gay.

This is kind of funny to think about because looking back, after season 3 happened, many people were more focused on evidence that Mike is queer rather than Will because funnily enough, there’s more evidence in the background.. and a lot of people actually called us delusional for thinking that Will was gay.

I’ll admit, I myself didn’t want to believe that Will was gay back then. I was kind of traumatised by queer baiting, and I didn’t let myself get my hopes up for one second. I had the alternate explanation of ‘oh he’s just being called those slurs because he’s shy and he’s just being stereotyped’ (I AM SO STUPID).

People still called byler stans weird and delusional before season 4 for thinking Will’s gay. Sound familiar? Think of how many damn times lately you’ve heard the words “Mike’s literally straight” “Mike isn’t gay” before the release of season 5.

You know what was iconic? The fact that Will being gay was immediately established in episode one of season 4. Like, I knew it for definite when he pulled away from that girl in his class I was like yeah they’re doing this.

This completely blew all of the ‘Will’s not gay he’s just different!’ rumours out of the water. Gagged everyone. Suddenly, everyone’s excuse for byler not being canon is ‘It’s just unrequited love’ instead of ‘They’re not gay, they’re just best friends.’ We got one step closer to byler. The only step now is for Mike being queer.

I’m not saying they will absolutely make it clear that he’s gay or imply it in the first episode like Will, because honestly that would be a crazy rush job.

But what if they did it again?

[artist-issues]

“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”

Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.

Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.

It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?

But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.

If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.

Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.

Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.

You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.

But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”

Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”

Are we beginning to get the picture?

See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”

He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.

And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”

And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.

And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.

And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.

White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.

And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”

And you know what?

If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.

But He is NOT.

God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.

Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.

No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”

White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.

Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.

Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?

This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.

That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.

You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.

And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.

White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.

So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.

[hwa-stars]

Unexpected visit

Pairing: idol!Seonghwa x fem!named reader (ft. Wooyoung, Jongho)

Word count: 1.4k

Genre: fluff

Note: I just re-watched Wanteez episodes and couldn't help but think of a goofy Seonghwa under anesthesia 🥹

Seonghwa slowly blinked his eyes open, the blurry white lights of the hospital room coming into focus. He felt groggy and disoriented, the anesthesia still lingering in his system. His body was heavy, his mind clouded. A soft murmur from nearby caught his attention, and he turned his head to see a couple of their staff members watching him closely.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” one of the staff asked gently.

He took a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I feel… strange." He mumbled, his voice weak and raspy trying to not fall asleep again.

“That’s normal. You’re still waking up from the anesthesia." The doctor next to him reassured him with a smile. “Don’t worry, just take it easy.”

Seonghwa nodded slightly, still feeling out of sorts. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head, and then a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.

“Min…” He murmured, his heart suddenly racing. “Where’s she? Has she come to see me?”

The staff members exchanged glances, surprised since they're recording the Wanteez special health, and no one is supposed to know about his relationship, but they can always cut that part to protect his privacy.

“She hasn’t been here yet, Seonghwa and we haven’t received any messages from her.”

Seonghwa’s face fell, his eyes widening with a mixture of confusion and hurt. “She… she hasn’t come?” His voice trembled, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. The combination of anesthesia and worry was making everything feel ten times worse. “But, she knew we're going to record this and she said she wanted to see me after the procedure to take care of me."

“I’m sure she has her reasons." The staff member tried to console him, but Seonghwa wasn’t listening.

His eyes welled up with tears, and he struggled to hold them back. “She’s going to leave me, isn’t she?” He whispered, his voice breaking. “She probably doesn’t care about me anymore…”

“Seonghwa, don’t think like that." Another staff member said softly, trying not to laugh at him but he shook his head, his emotions are running wild.

“No, no… I knew it…” His voice cracked again as he tried to speak, his heart aching at the thought of losing her. “She probably thinks I’m too much trouble, and I’m not worth the effort…”

He turned his head away, his chest tightening painfully as he tried to suppress his sobs. The staff exchanged worried looks but again trying not to laugh at him, unsure on how to comfort him in his vulnerable state.

Just then, the door to the room opened quietly, and a young woman with a mask stepped and moved gracefully to Seonghwa’s side.

“Hello, Mr. Park,” she said in a calm voice, with a tone gentle and professional. “How are we feeling today?”

Seonghwa glanced up at her, still sniffling. “Not good." He admitted, his voice small. “My girlfriend, didn’t come to see me…”

The nurse’s eyes opened wide with a hidden emotion as she looked at him. “Oh, really? That’s a shame. I’m sure she’s very worried about you.”

He shook his head, his lips quivering. “No, she’s not. She didn’t even send a message. She probably wants to break up with me by now…” His voice trailed off, and he covered his face with his hands.

The nurse chuckled softly, a sound that made Seonghwa’s heart flutter despite his misery. “I think you might be overreacting a little, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa looked up at her, his eyes red and watery. “Don’t laugh at me Ms. Nurse, I’m serious she'll break up with me” he pouted, his voice laced with sadness. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Park, I didn't mean to laugh at your situation. ” She said, but there was a smile in her voice and the staff were smiling too.

Seonghwa huffed, still pouting, and turned his face away. “I just want her here."

The nurse moved closer, gently adjusting the blanket around him. “You’re very sweet, you know that?” She said softly.

"Thank you Ms. Nurse, but I have a girlfriend." He said firmly with a pout in his face and the staff laughed.

The door burst open again and Wooyoung and Jongho entered the room, both looking much more awake and alert than Seonghwa.

“Hey, how’s our sleepy head doing?” Wooyoung asked with a mischievously smile.

Jongho followed him, his expression equally amused. “Did the surgery go well, hyung? You seem… quite emotional.”

Seonghwa shot them a tired, half-hearted glare. “I’m not in the mood, guys.”

Wooyoung’s grin widened as he glanced at the nurse standing beside Seonghwa. “Didn’t Minseo come to see you?”

Seonghwa’s face fell even further, and he shook his head slowly. “No, she didn’t.”

Jongho gasped dramatically, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh no, hyung! Maybe she found someone else!”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened in shock, his heart dropping to his stomach. ���Don’t say that!” He cried out, his voice wavering. “She wouldn’t do that, right?"

Wooyoung chuckled, nudging Jongho playfully. “Come on, you know he’s just kidding. But really, Seonghwa hyung, maybe she’s busy or something.”

Seonghwa shook his head stubbornly. “I need to call her and asked her by myself.” He looked at the staff, his eyes pleading. “Please, can someone give me my phone?”

One of the staff members shook her head laughing. “Seonghwa, you’re still under the influence of anesthesia. It’s not a good idea to call anyone right now.”

"It's like you're making a drunking call. You're only going to make a fool of yourself." Wooyoung laughed.

Seonghwa’s frustration grew, his emotions spiraling out of control. “No, I have to! I need to tell her. I need to know if she still cares about me”

Jongho leaned in, placing a comforting hand on Seonghwa’s arm. “Hyung, trust me, this isn’t the best time.”

Seonghwa was on the verge of tears again, his face crumpling in despair. “Please, I just want to hear her voice."

Wooyoung exchanged a knowing look with Jongho, and then he turned Seonghwa’s head gently toward the nurse standing beside him.

“Look closely." he said softly.

Seonghwa blinked, his vision still a little fuzzy and he stared at the nurse. Something about her eyes, the way she looked at him with warmth and love?

It definitely seemed familiar.

“Min?” he whispered, his heart pounding.

The nurse pulled down her mask, revealing a bright smile that lit up Seonghwa’s entire heart.

“Hi, Seonghwa." She said softly, her eyes shining with affection.

Seonghwa’s jaw dropped, and he stared at her, completely stunned. “L-love, it’s that you or I'm still under anesthesia?!”

She nodded, laughing softly at his shocked expression. “Yes, it’s me. Although, you're still goofy for the anesthesia, but I wanted to surprise you.”

Tears filled Seonghwa’s eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief and overwhelming happiness.

“I thought you didn’t come.” he mumbled and his voice choked with emotion.

Minseo held him close, her fingers gently running through his hair. “I’m right here, Seonghwa. I wouldn’t miss it for the world, I really wanted to see how you'll be under the effects of the anesthesia.”

He laugh lightly, looking at her with wide, teary eyes. “I’m sorry for saying all those things, I was just scared. I thought you didn’t want me anymore."

Minseo shook her head, her smile soft and tender. “You’re so silly, Seonghwa. How could I not want you?”

Seonghwa’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down, embarrassed. “I just, I don’t know what I’d do without you."

She kissed his forehead gently. “I love you too Ddeonghwa.”

Wooyoung and Jongho, watching the scene unfold, exchanged amused glances.

“Who would’ve thought the oldest would be the most dramatic under anesthesia?” Wooyoung whispered, a grin spreading across his face.

Jongho snickered. “Yeah, I always thought that only you would be the one causing a scene.”

"Hey! I was a great patient." He shouted and the staff laughed and shook their heads. "What, did I cause trouble?" He asked shocked and embarrassed.

"You shouted at me and I was in front of you laying." Jongho rolled his eyes.

"But Mingi was a hard work too." Seonghwa said tiredly.

Minseo looked over at them. “So do you Seonghwa."

“Don’t laugh at me, I was really worried.” Seonghwa pouted

Minseo giggled, giving him a soft kiss against his cheek. “I know, Hwa. I’m here now, okay?”

He nodded, a shy smile finally breaking through his tears. “Okay, I’m just happy that you’re here."

“I’ll always be here." Minseo carassed her boyfriend's hair and he smiled. "Now, you really need to rest sleep for a while. I'll be here when you wake up."

Seonghwa nodeed his head and closed his eyes, finally feeling at peace with his heart full of love and gratitude for the girl who is her girlfriend.

[mclacedes]

The Idea of You (LN4)

2. The Idea of Worthiness

summary: in which lando decides to make it up for ghostin you

previous ••• next

WARNINGS: it's pretty much all angst. in-depth described anxiety attack, anxious behaviour/mannerisms, description of depression and suicidal ideation, loneliness

wc: 3k

“but what if i can't do it?”

A/N: before anything else, i want to make it clear that my intention is NOT to trigger any kind of trauma in anyone with this. the reader has been warned of potential triggers. if you are going through some kind of psychological hardship, know that there are people who care and who worry <3 you are never 100% alone!

january 1st, 2024 — 3:30pm

you came home with a knot in your chest that seemed to tighten with every breath. the morning had been a blur, an awkward dance around lando’s mother as you searched for a polite excuse to leave.

of course you'd chosen the most simple and non-negotiable of lies: i need to spend some time with my relatives.

despite it being faintly true, you knew you'd spend the whole day with lando's family if the circumstances were different.

the night's words lingered in your mind as you walked out, wishing it could cover the truth: you couldn’t bear the thought of facing lando after what had happened—or rather, after what didn’t happen.

now, the silence in your own home was suffocating. you slumped onto the couch, your mind replaying the scene on a loop: lando's words, lando's reassurance, the way his lips had bruised yours, the heat of his breath so close, his hands on you, his hands in you, his fingers’ magic, and then... you wake up alone.

now, you knew lando felt the same, you knew that things could work out, you knew just the intensity of your feelings for him. but you also knew he hadn't texted you back all day and, seemingly, nobody knew where he was.

as his closest friend, you knew that he'd only have left that way if something really bad had happened.

what you didn't know though, was how bad it felt for him.

it had been a long time since lando had received the diagnosis. after years of wondering what was wrong with him and why he felt such a void within himself, he'd been told he had depression.

what they say is that treatment is easier when you have the right diagnosis, but that doesn't erase the fact that some days were infinitely more difficult than others—harder to get out of bed, harder to leave the house, to work, and singularly hard to live, specially because the latter is the last thing you want during a depressive episode.

he started going to therapy regularly when he was a minor, forced by his parents, but when he became an adult he left—said that talking about how horrible he felt wouldn't help, it would only make him feel worse.

and then the episodes gradually became worse as his life improve. for example, before arriving in F1, he oftentimes found himself fighting against the urge to simply end it all: the pain, the suffering, the disruption, the constant failed attempt at a better day, his very life.

even though he never attempted it, lando was caught contemplating the possibility of the end; he used to wonder how people would react when they heard "lando norris died, suicide", what it would be like if he wasn't here anymore.

“such a kind soul”

“such a beautiful boy”

“smart, funny”

“talented guy”

that's what people would say, in the best of cases.

in the worse of cases people wouldn't even notice he was gone.

well, following next to depression was anxiety.

lando’s anxiety was a constant undercurrent to his depression, feeding off it, amplifying it, tangling him further in a web of self-doubt. it was always there, an invisible weight pressing down, but some days it grew loud enough to silence every other part of him, like a swarm of thoughts buzzing incessantly, trapping him in a looping worry about everything and nothing all at once.

it started with racing—the very thing he loved was also the source of his most unrelenting fears. despite his undeniable talent and the acclaim he’d earned, the worry always crept in: what if i mess up? what if i’m not good enough? what if it’s all just a fluke, and one day everyone realizes i’m a fraud?

he dreaded that moment when the lights turned green, not because of the physical danger but because of the psychological toll—that split-second when any mistake, any misstep, could spiral out into a visible, unforgivable failure.

even beyond racing, the anxiety spilled into every facet of his life. he overthought every message he sent, every interaction, analyzing them for any hint of rejection, any confirmation of his worst fears. if he didn’t receive a response right away, his mind spun stories, convincing him he’d somehow upset the person or made a fool of himself.

and now, with you, it was worse. his feelings were tangled with worry and doubt; he feared you’d eventually see through his flaws, his bad days, his cracks, and walk away. the closeness you’d shared the night before terrified him. he wanted you desperately, yet that desire to let you in also exposed him to his greatest fear: that he would scare you away merely by the fact that he existed.

this anxiety could sometimes send him into a state of paralysis, leaving him unable to reach out, unable to bridge the gap even when he wanted nothing more than to feel your presence, to hear your voice. today was one of those days—the aftermath of a moment so perfect, so vulnerable, that his mind filled with a thousand worries. he couldn’t bring himself to message you, to even show you the rawness of his internal struggle. instead, he withdrew, waiting for the fog to clear enough for him to reach for you again.

but you had tried.

you: lando hey

you: i'm worried abt u

you: text me whenever u get the chance pls

you: i'm right here if you wanna talk”

there were another 20 texts of kindred nature from you in his phone—you spent the afternoon rewinding what had happened, wondering if there were any signs that he would do something to himself or… the devil god knows what.

you had barely moved or done anything at all since you had gotten home because lando still hadn’t texted back, and the worry in your chest was growing impossible to ignore.

you’d known him for years—long enough to see the shadows he kept hidden behind his easy smile. he had always brushed off the subject, deflecting it with humor or quick changes in conversation. but today, his silence was colder, sharper, more unsettling than usual.

hours had passed since you last saw him, and finally, you gave in and sent him a message, trying not to let the desperation seep through.

you: lando, i hope you’re alright. let me know when you’re home safe, ok?

the message delivered, but no ‘read’ receipt appeared. your heart sank, and as you stared at the screen, scenarios spun wildly in your mind.

lando was good at hiding. he knew how to pour himself into everything and everyone else, keeping busy, laughing, entertaining—until he couldn’t. when the episodes came, he retreated so far into himself that it was like trying to find someone in a pitch-black room.

you tried calling him. the line rang and rang, finally going to voicemail. your voice was barely a whisper as you left a message.

“lando… if you see this, please just… come home. or let me know you’re okay. i’m here, alright? no matter what, i’m here.”

when the call ended, the silence in your apartment felt just as cold as his void.

—

unbeknownst to you, he was okay.

at least that's what he said to max when he called saying cisca was worried about him. and thats what he said when he called his mom.

“i’m okay.”

but he knew there was nothing okay with him right now.

far away, in his silent retreat, a wave of coldness washed over him, and his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. that feeling in his chest was known: he was panicking.

it felt like the walls were closing in, a vice squeezing his chest tighter with every passing second. his hands trembled, fingers twitching as if searching for something to anchor him, to ground him in reality. he fought to keep his breathing steady, but the more he tried, the more elusive calm became. memories of your kiss haunted him—both a balm and a wound. how could something so beautiful leave him feeling so lost?

what if i’m not enough for her? he thought

a tight knot of fear formed in his stomach, mingling with the ache of longing. was he really ready for this? for you? for love? the questions spiraled, colliding with the weight of his own expectations and the pressure of his career. he couldn’t shake the sense that he was on the brink of something monumental, yet all he felt was the crushing weight of uncertainty.

the doubt crept in, fueled by echoes of his past, whispers of inadequacy that had followed him through the years. he recalled the stinging memories of being told he wasn’t good enough, of moments when his efforts felt like they never quite measured up. every trophy he’d won and every incredible milestone he had achieved done little to silence those voices. instead, they morphed into an insidious belief that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be a step behind, always falling short.

what if she hates me?

with you, the stakes felt impossibly high. what if he couldn’t be the partner you deserved? what if the pressure of the spotlight overwhelmed him and drove you away? those thoughts twisted in his gut, feeding the anxiety that swelled within him. he imagined you in a world where he wasn’t there, finding someone who could offer you the stability and unwavering support he feared he lacked. the very thought crushed him, deepening the ache in his chest, as it reminded him of all the times he had to fight for validation, only to come up empty-handed.

he was scared of what loving you meant, terrified of failing you, terrified of failing himself. the weight of it all felt unbearable, a heavy blanket of dread that threatened to suffocate him.

what if i fail her?

lando was too scared, too anxious. with every breath, his lungs ached, and with every tear that gathered in his eyes, he felt weaker. it was as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath him, and the vast unknown loomed below—a place filled with possibilities but also with the risk of falling into darkness. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself as the rising tide of emotions threatened to pull him under.

every heartbeat felt like a reminder of his vulnerability, a painful pulse that echoed the uncertainty gnawing at his core. he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something profound, yet all he could focus on was the suffocating fear of not being enough. the love he felt for you, so pure and intoxicating, was also a heavy burden, weighed down by his past failures and fears. the thought of letting you down, of not living up to the promise of what could be, sent chills racing down his spine.

she's too perfect, i'm a mess

as tears spilled over and streamed down his cheeks, he felt a mix of shame and desperation. lando had always prided himself on being strong, on facing challenges head-on, yet here he was—vulnerable and exposed, battling an internal storm that felt relentless. the very act of loving you felt like a gamble, one that he wasn't sure he was ready to take. would he be brave enough to step forward, to embrace the chaos of his heart, or would he retreat back into the safety of his own fears?

with every sob that escaped him, the overwhelming tide of emotion pulled him deeper, and he struggled to keep his head above water. the thought of calling you, of reaching out for the connection he craved, felt both necessary and terrifying. what if you saw him like this—raw, broken, and afraid? what if he could never find the words to explain what he felt, or worse, what if you saw him as nothing more than a disappointment?

what if she saw me for who i truly am?

taking a shaky breath, he reached for his phone thrown on the couch, sitting on it. his hands were still trembling as he dialed the only person, besides you, who he knew wouldn't judge, but understand him.

“hey, mate, how you doing?” max fewtrell greeted him with his usual easy grin, only for the smile to falter the second he took in lando’s state: tears streaked his face, his eyes swollen and red, his nose and cheeks raw from wiping at them. his lips, split and bloodied, told the story of how he’d been biting them all day. lando’s breath hitched in his throat, his words barely making it out.

“hey… mate, i—” he tried, but the lump in his throat choked him. lando couldn’t even speak.

“lando, what happened?” max said, his voice low and steady, concern etched across his face.

“i think i… i fucked things up with Y/N,” lando's voice cracked, desperation pouring from him as if his world was unraveling right there in front of max.

the sight in front of max sent a chill through his spine. lando's looks, disheveled, like he’d been pulling at it in frustration all day. his bright green eyes were dulled, sunken and rimmed with red. the bags beneath them were dark, a stark contrast against his pale skin. his hands trembled on his knees, unable to steady themselves. his chest heaved, like the panic was consuming him from the inside, leaving only a fragile shell of the person max had known for years.

lando wiped at his face, the back of his hand coming away wet. he shook his head, sinking deeper into the couch.

“we kissed, we slept together and i pushed her away, max. i—i could’ve stayed. i could’ve—” his breath caught again, ragged and uneven. “but i left with no explanation. i went up and left her there, max… i’m so stupid.” he cried out.

lando’s breath hitched, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. his shoulders shook, and a sob escaped him, raw and unfiltered. he hadn’t felt this way in a long time—like he was too broken to be loved.

"max, i’m a mess," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i couldn’t stay, i couldn’t even look at her this morning because… because she deserves better. i mean, look at me," he gestured to himself, his hands trembling. “i’m fucked up, max. i couldn’t even say the words, couldn’t even be honest. how can i be with her when i don’t even know what’s going on in my own head?”

max’s brows furrowed, his face softening as he listened. lando looked like he was spiraling, and it hurt max to see his best friend like this—feeling like he didn’t deserve something good because he was caught in his own storm.

“lando, mate,” max started, carefully choosing his words, “you’re not as messed up as you think you are. yeah, you’ve got stuff going on, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her, or that you don’t deserve to be happy. and running away from her because you think you’re too broken for her… that’s not the answer.”

lando shook his head, wiping at his eyes, his voice trembling as he spoke. “but i am broken, max. i don’t even know how to deal with my own shit, let alone someone else’s. she’s this… this amazing person, and i’m just… i’m just me. she deserves someone who has it all figured out, not someone who’s going to bolt the second things get real.”

max let out a breath, leaning forward a bit. “no one has it all figured out, lando. not me, not her, not anyone. she’s not expecting you to be perfect, she’s expecting you to be real with her. that’s all. and yeah, maybe you’re not in the best place right now, but you can’t let that be the reason you push her away.”

lando let the words sink in, but it didn’t ease the heaviness inside him. “i left because i thought… i thought i’d hurt her more by staying. i didn’t want her to see me like this. i didn’t want her to see how much of a mess i am.”

“but by leaving, you hurt her anyway,” max said gently. “because she cares about you. and if you care about her too, you’ve got to let her in, even if it’s messy, even if you don’t have all the answers. it’s okay to not have everything together, lando. it’s okay to be scared. but you can’t run from this.”

lando swallowed hard, staring at the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch until his knuckles turned white. max was right. he had run—run because he didn’t think he was good enough, run because the idea of her seeing all his cracks terrified him.

“but what if i can’t do it? what if i let her down again?” lando’s voice was barely audible now, thick with doubt.

max’s expression softened even more. “then you figure it out, together. but you’ve got to give her the chance to make that choice. don’t decide for her that you’re not good enough. let her in. let her see you, even the parts you’re scared to show. that’s how you build something real.”

lando’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. the thought of opening up like that—to be fully seen, in all his messiness, all his vulnerability—scared him more than any race ever had. but the thought of losing Y/N, of pushing her away because of his own fear… that scared him even more.

“yeah, sure,” lando whispered, his voice hoarse. “i need to talk to her. i need to fix this.”

max smiled softly, relief flickering in his eyes. “yeah, mate. you do.”

after bidding his best friend farewell, lando sat and tried to calm himself down by pressing his fingers with exposed raw flesh due to the fact he had gnawed at his own hands out of anxiety. he had to come up with something to make it up to you. he needed to.

TAGGINGS: @meglouise00 @rawr-123s-stuff

[insomniac4000]

Useless Hotline Crush- George Clarke

George Clarkeey adjusted his headset, a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling under his usual confident exterior. Across from him, Max Balegde lounged in his chair, grinning mischievously as he scrolled through the show notes for this week’s episode of The Useless Hotline.

Their guest? None other than Y/N, a rising star in the YouTube and TikTok world, whose hilarious skits and uncanny impressions had skyrocketed her to internet fame. George had mentioned her more than a few times on the podcast, enough for the listeners to pick up on his admiration and maybe a little more. The speculations of a crush had been building for weeks, and now, she was about to be sitting across from him. George was feeling the full weight of their playful teasing, he knew that Max was not going to let him off easy either and it started just how George had expected.

“Alright, George,” Max said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you ready to meet your favorite internet sensation?”

“Oh, shut up,” George muttered, but his cheeks turned pink.

Max laughed and leaned into the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, give a warm welcome to the incredibly talented, ridiculously funny, and dare I say, George-approved Y/N!”

The studio door opened, and Y/N walked in with a big smile, waving at the cameras and settling into the guest seat. “Thanks for having me! Big fan of the show.”

“Big fan of you,” George blurted out before his brain could catch up. Max stifled a laugh as George’s face turned beet red. “I mean, uh, your videos. Big fan of your videos. Let’s get you a drink, I know I could do with one.

Y/N’s laugh was warm and genuine, easing some of George’s nerves. “Well, I’m flattered. And honestly, George, you’re pretty funny yourself. Your impression of that influencer with the fake apology? Iconic.”

“Oh, thank you,” George said, his voice slightly higher than usual. “Coming from the queen of impressions, that means a lot.”

Max raised an eyebrow at the exchange, his grin widening. “Alright, enough flirting. Let’s get into it. Y/N, how did you get started making content?”

Y/N leaned forward slightly, her enthusiasm shining through. “Honestly, it started as a bit of a joke. I was in uni, absolutely broke, and my friends and I would mess around making little videos. One day, I did an impression of our lecturer that was so spot-on, they dared me to post it. I did, and somehow it blew up. From there it just kind of snowballed really.”

“Snowballed is an understatement,” Max said. “You’ve got millions of followers now. What do you think sets your content apart?”

“I think it’s a mix of things,” Y/N replied thoughtfully. “I try to keep my humour relatable, you know? Like, we’ve all been in awkward situations or dealt with people who are… let’s say, a bit much. And I love poking fun at those universal experiences. Plus, I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my skits. I’ll redo them a hundred times if I have to, no one needs to see the hours of footage on the cutting room floor,” she laughed.

“That’s dedication,” George said, his admiration clear. “Do you ever feel pressure to keep topping yourself?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N admitted. “It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers and the pressure to go viral. But I try to remind myself why I started was to make people laugh. As long as I’m doing that, I’m happy.”

“Speaking of laughs,” Max interjected, “we’ve got to talk about your impressions. They’re uncanny. Do you have a favourite one?”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, that’s a tough one. I think my favourite changes depending on my mood. But people seem to love my impression of the overly peppy yoga instructor.”

“Can we get a little sample?” George asked, leaning forward eagerly, he knew exactly what she was talking about but it was for the sake of the audience who hadn’t seen anything, plus there was a part of him that was really excited to see her stuff in person.

“Alright, but don’t judge me,” Y/N said, slipping effortlessly into character. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and adopted an overly serene tone. “Okay, everyone, let’s just breathe out the negative vibes despite your life falling apart and breathe in the overpriced smoothie and retreat I’m about to sell you which you will definitely need after this.”

George and Max burst into laughter, George clapping his hands together. “That’s brilliant. Honestly, you’ve got the tone and everything down perfectly.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing along with them. “It’s one of my go-to’s because it’s just so fun to exaggerate. Anyway how do you know how perfect it is? I didn’t have you down as a yoga expert.” George’s face then went red.

“Alright, George,” Max said, turning to him with a wicked grin. “Your turn. Do an impression.”

George groaned, though the smile on his face suggested he didn’t mind. “Fine. I’ll do my influencer apology.” He cleared his throat and put on an exaggeratedly solemn expression. “Hi, guys. I’ve made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgment. I’m here to take accountability, even though I don’t really mean it. Please don’t cancel me, because I’ve got a brand deal coming up.”

Y/N was practically doubled over with laughter. “That is terrifyingly accurate. The pause before ‘accountability’ was perfect.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” George said with a wink. “What about you, Y/N? Have you ever had to make an apology video?”

“Thankfully, no,” she said, shaking her head. “But now that you’ve done that impression, I’m kind of tempted to make a parody one. Just in case I ever need it, you know?”

“We’ll co-write it,” George offered. “Guaranteed viral hit.”

Max leaned back, watching the exchange with a knowing smirk. “You two are dangerous together. I can see it now: Y/N and George take over TikTok. The internet won’t know what hit it.”

Y/N laughed. “Hey, I’m down. As long as George can keep up with my filming schedule.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” George said, his confidence returning. “Let’s make it happen.”

The rest of the interview flew by, covering everything from Y/N’s dream collaborations to her favourite TikTok trends. By the time they wrapped up, the chemistry between her and George was undeniable, leaving Max plenty of material for teasing in future episodes.

As Y/N said her goodbyes and left the studio, Max turned to George with a sly look. “Mate, you’re not even subtle.”

“Shut up,” George mumbled, but the grin on his face was undeniable.

The comments had noticed too;

Did anyone else notice how George kept stuttering a little at the beginning like he was nervous?

George finally got his dream guest!!

So we’re all in agreement that George is smitten, right? Can we make this a thing? Because I need them to collab again ASAP!

Max teasing George is literally the only reason I’m still alive. But honestly, George’s soft spot for Y/N is kind of sweet.

Two weeks later, the studio buzzed with the usual pre-show chaos. Today’s episode was one the listeners had been eagerly anticipating: a lie detector test. George and Max had hyped it up for days, promising spicy questions and no holds barred.

As the machine was set up and the cameras rolled, Max rubbed his hands together. “Alright, George, are you ready to expose your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” George said, settling into the chair and strapping on the sensors.

The first few questions were tame. Max asked if George had ever stolen anything (“Yes,” and he passed), if he’d ever lied to a guest (“No,” and he passed), and if he thought Max was the funnier host (“No,” and he failed, prompting uproarious laughter).

Then came the question that made George’s stomach flip.

“Have you ever kissed a guest on this podcast?” Max asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

George’s answer was immediate. “No.” The machine’s green light confirmed the truth, and George exhaled in relief.

Max wasn’t done. “Do you want to kiss any guest?”

George froze, his mind racing. He forced a laugh, trying to play it cool. “No.”

The machine’s red light flashed.

Max’s eyes widened, and he leaned back in his chair, howling with laughter. “Oh my God, George! Who is it? Who do you want to kiss?”

George shook his head, his face burning. “I’m not saying anything. Next question.”

“You’re no fun,” Max teased, but the damage was done. The comments section exploded when the episode went live.

"It’s obviously Y/N. The way he acted when she was on the podcast? Dead giveaway."

"George, we’re onto you, mate. Just admit it already!"

"Max, bring Y/N back and grill George in real time. We need answers!"

George tried to ignore the speculation, but it was impossible to miss. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N’s smile, her laugh, the way she’d lit up the studio. Maybe…just maybe, the comments weren’t entirely wrong.

There had been a couple of messages swapped here and there since the podcast appearance but nothing else, the way Max, Chris and Arthur were going on about it you would have thought they were getting married, but a few messages was more than George was ever expecting.

What he wasn’t expecting however was a message from her when the episode went live.

“Who’s this guy you want to kiss? It’s Isaac isn’t it?” The message teased.

“Why, jealous?” George’s heart thumped in his chest as he sent the response, he was getting really bold now, hopefully it wouldn’t scare her off. He stared at his phone for a while and his heart started beating fast as instead of a message his phone started to ring, why was she calling him? He glanced at the screen and froze for a moment before answering. “Y/N! Hey.”

“Hey, George,” Y/N said, her voice light. “My notifications have been blowing up with people tagging me in the comments of that video and the other one still asking for that collab. I know we mentioned it briefly but I was wondering if you were up for it and maybe we could plan something?

George perked up. “I think it’s a great idea. Your skits and impressions are amazing—I’d love to work on something with you.”

“Awesome. Maybe we could brainstorm some ideas together?”

“Yeah, for sure,” George said. “How about lunch sometime this week?”

There was a brief pause before Y/N replied, her tone teasing. “Lunch sounds nice, but how about dinner instead? You know, make it more of a proper meeting.”

George’s heart skipped a beat. “Dinner works too,” he said, trying to sound casual. “When are you free?”

“Friday night?” Y/N suggested.

“Perfect,” George said, his excitement barely contained. “I’ll text you the details.”

As they ended the call, George couldn’t stop grinning. Max would never let him hear the end of this, let alone Chris or either of the Arthur’s but for once, he didn’t mind.

[rafedarling]

𝐩𝐨𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

pairing: actor!rafe cameron x actress!reader

summary: after a few months of marriage, actors rafe and you decide to give your fans an intimate glimpse into your lives through a podcast. during the episode, you both share details about your relationship, clear up rumors, and reflect on how their lives have changed since getting married. as you and rafe casually chat about your future, subtle hints about starting a family emerge, creating anticipation about an exciting new chapter in your lives. your love, chemistry, and heartfelt moments shine through, making their bond unmistakable.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, sweet moments, hints of pregnancy(?), intimate and emotional conversation.

au: like, reblog, comment and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @stuffyownswrld @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy

The camera’s red recording light blinked on, signaling the start of something you and Rafe had talked about for weeks. It was your first podcast together—an idea that had sprung up during a quiet evening at home, when both of you had been reflecting on how much your fans adored seeing you two together off-screen. You were both actors, co-stars in several hit films, but it was your real-life relationship that captivated audiences the most. Everyone wanted to know what married life was like for two of Hollywood’s biggest stars.

“Alright, we’re live,” Rafe said, his voice warm and easy as he leaned back in his chair, one arm resting behind you. He always had this effortless charm, and being in front of the camera—whether for work or something personal like this—seemed second nature to him.

You smiled at the camera, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Hey, guys! Welcome to the first episode of In the Limelight with me and my amazing husband, Rafe.” You threw him a playful look, and he grinned in return.

“Yep, we’re finally doing this,” Rafe added, his tone light and casual. “We’ve been talking about starting this podcast for a while now, and after a few months of marriage—and a ton of fan questions—we thought, why not let you all in on what’s really going on with us?”

You both exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the curiosity that had been swirling around your relationship since the moment your engagement was announced, followed by your wedding and now, of course, the inevitable rumors that always followed celebrity couples.

“So,” you began, pulling out your phone where you had saved some of the fan-submitted questions. “Let’s jump right in. First question is a classic: ‘How’s married life treating you two?’”

Rafe chuckled, reaching over to take your hand. “I’ll take this one,” he said, squeezing your fingers gently. “Honestly? It’s been amazing. I mean, I know everyone says the first year is the hardest, but for us, it’s been pretty smooth. I think it helps that we were friends for so long before we got married.”

You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I think the fact that we already knew each other so well made the transition easier. We already knew what it was like to work together, to spend crazy hours on set, and to deal with the ups and downs of Hollywood life. But marriage… it’s brought a whole new level of closeness.”

Rafe smiled at you, that sweet, loving look that always made your heart skip a beat. “It’s the little things, you know?” he continued, his voice softening. “Like coming home after a long day of filming and just… being together. We don’t need to do anything fancy. It’s those quiet moments—cooking dinner, binge-watching movies on the couch—that make everything feel right.”

You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. “Yeah, we’ve definitely embraced the whole ‘stay-at-home’ vibe. It’s funny because people probably think our lives are all red carpets and glamorous events, but the reality is… we love just being home.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you a bit tighter. “Exactly. It’s about finding peace in the chaos.”

You looked back at the camera, your smile widening. “So, to answer that question—married life has been pretty perfect so far.”

Rafe leaned in toward the mic, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret with the audience. “Well, except for the fact that Y/N snores.”

Your eyes widened in playful shock as you turned to him, smacking his arm lightly. “I do not snore!”

He laughed, raising his hands in defense. “Okay, maybe not ‘snore,’ but you definitely make these cute little noises when you sleep.”

“Nice save,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. But there was no denying the warmth that filled you when Rafe brought up these intimate, everyday moments. It reminded you of how special your bond truly was.

The questions kept coming in, most of them light and fun. You and Rafe shared stories about working on set together, how you navigated hectic filming schedules, and how you always made time for each other no matter how busy life got.

But then came the question that made both of you pause, even though you’d expected it.

“Alright, here’s one we’ve seen floating around a lot lately,” you said, glancing at Rafe before reading it aloud. “‘There’s been a lot of talk on social media lately about Y/N being pregnant. Can you guys confirm or deny?’”

Rafe let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Ah, the baby question. We knew it was coming.”

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of the question settle between you. It wasn’t a complete surprise—rumors had been swirling for weeks now, especially after a few public appearances where you’d been wearing looser outfits. It seemed like everyone was waiting for the announcement, but you and Rafe hadn’t decided if you were ready to share that part of your lives just yet.

“For now,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “we’re just enjoying being married and taking things one step at a time. But…”

Rafe interjected, his voice gentle but firm. “But, yeah, we’ve definitely talked about the future. And when the time is right, we’ll be more than ready for that next chapter.”

You turned to him, catching the way his eyes softened when he talked about the future. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation—late-night talks in bed, lying side by side, imagining what it would be like to have a family. It was something you both wanted deeply, and while you weren’t officially sharing any news, you both knew it was only a matter of time before that dream became a reality.

The fans were sharp—they’d probably pick up on the subtle hints you were dropping. And honestly, you were okay with that. There was a certain excitement in knowing that your fans were part of this journey with you, even if they didn’t know all the details yet.

Rafe glanced at you, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “We’ve got some pretty big plans for the future,” he said, his voice taking on that playful, teasing tone again. “But we’ll let you guys know when the time comes.”

You laughed softly, leaning against his shoulder with a smile, savoring the moment. The warmth between you two was palpable, even through the screen, and you knew that your fans would feel it, too.

“Yeah,” you added, “we’ll keep you guys posted. But for now, we’re just really happy with where we are.”

Rafe’s hand never left yours, and the way he looked at you, with so much love and tenderness, made your heart flutter. There was no rush—you both knew that when the time was right, everything would fall into place. For now, though, the peace and joy of simply being together were enough.

“And,” Rafe chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye, “in the meantime, we’ve got plenty of other exciting things going on to keep us busy.”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Oh, you mean like actually doing the dishes? Because that would be pretty exciting.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, I’ll step up my dishwashing game. But I was talking more about the new projects we’re working on.”

You nodded, turning back to the camera. “Right! So, we do have some big news on the professional front. Rafe just signed on to do this incredible action film, and I’m working on a drama that’s been in the works for a while now.”

Rafe leaned in, clearly proud. “Yeah, Y/N’s got a lead role in a movie that’s going to blow people away. Trust me, I’ve read the script—it’s phenomenal. I’m already jealous of her co-star.”

You laughed at his fake pout, knowing exactly what he meant. “It’s just work, babe,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice softening. “But it’s hard not to be a little protective, you know? I’m lucky enough to have you as my wife, so I can’t help it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You’re the sweetest. But I promise, no one compares to you.”

He smiled, that signature Rafe grin that made your knees weak even after all this time. “I’m holding you to that.”

As the conversation flowed, you both eased into talking about your careers and the delicate balance of being in the same industry while maintaining a strong, healthy relationship.

“Honestly,” Rafe said, his voice thoughtful, “the biggest challenge has been time. We’re both so busy, and sometimes it’s hard to line up our schedules. But we’ve learned to prioritize our time together. Like, when we’re both home, it’s our time. No work, no distractions—just us.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s been the key. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of our careers, but at the end of the day, we’re each other’s biggest supporters. We make it work because we want to.”

Rafe’s hand slid from yours to rest on your knee, a gesture that felt grounding, reassuring. “And we’ve also learned how to compromise. Sometimes that means I’m on set a little longer, and other times, she’s off filming for weeks at a time. But we always find a way to make it work.”

You smiled, thinking about how true that was. There were days when the distance felt hard—especially during long shoots in different countries—but no matter where you were, you always found time to talk, to check in, and to remind each other of what really mattered.

“That’s another question we got a lot,” you said, glancing at your phone. “How do we handle being apart for so long during filming?”

Rafe leaned forward, his eyes serious but soft. “It’s not easy, but it helps that we trust each other completely. I know that no matter where she is or what she’s doing, we’re solid. And we make the most of the time we do have together.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We also try to visit each other on set whenever possible. Even if it’s just for a weekend, those little moments make a huge difference.”

Rafe’s expression turned playful again. “And FaceTime helps. A lot.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely. Technology is a lifesaver.”

The two of you continued to chat about the nuances of your life together—how you balanced fame with privacy, how you navigated the ups and downs of being in the public eye, and how, at the end of the day, your relationship was built on love, trust, and a shared sense of humor.

“So,” Rafe said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “before we wrap up, we have time for one more question.”

You scanned through the remaining questions, your eyes landing on one that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel the weight of it as you read aloud, “‘What’s next for the Camerons? Any big plans for the future?’”

There was a beat of silence between you, a kind of unspoken understanding that hung in the air. You knew what the fans were really asking. They wanted to know about the next chapter in your lives—the one that, while not confirmed, was slowly taking shape in your hearts and minds.

Rafe looked at you, his gaze soft and filled with something deeper, something that made you feel completely seen. He cleared his throat, his hand still resting on your knee. “Well… without giving too much away… we’ve definitely been thinking about the future. And we’re really excited about what’s coming next.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you nodded. “Yeah, we have some big things planned. But we’re taking our time and making sure that when the moment’s right, we’re ready.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a knowing look, one that only you could interpret. “Let’s just say… the next chapter might be a little more family-oriented.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. The hints were subtle, but you knew your fans would pick up on them. And maybe that was okay. You and Rafe were on the verge of something new, something exciting. And while you weren’t ready to make any big announcements just yet, the thought of it—of starting a family together—was something that filled you both with a sense of joy and anticipation.

As the podcast came to a close, you both thanked your fans for tuning in and promised there would be more episodes to come. Rafe leaned over to turn off the camera, and when the red light finally dimmed, he looked at you with that same loving expression he always had.

“You ready for that next chapter?” he asked, his voice soft, but full of warmth.

You smiled, leaning into him, feeling completely at peace. “With you? Always.”

Rafe kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as you sat there in the quiet of your home studio. The future was bright, and whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together—hand in hand, just like always.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil!

I don't want to sound like a killjoy, but I'm concerned about David Tennant's family being involved in the second season of Good Omens (or Michael Sheen's partner Anna Lundberg in a future season three). I absolutely have nothing against them, I loved Staged just like everyone else, but this is exactly the matter for me: casting them in the series would automatically make me think about Staged or something else while I'm watching GO, and it would distract me from the plot and the magic of it. It would feel somehow like a family reunion, no matter how talented they are as actors (not to mention that there would be nepotism accusations, above all against David. I hope this won't affect the popularity rating, since season three is still hypothetical). I'm not the only one who thinks this might be an issue, from what I read on blogs here on Tumblr (and on the Internet in general) but I feel like there's a sort of tension, like people are scared to say it out loud, because some fans get the wrong idea and accuse them of hating Georgia or Anna or Ty (and that's why I'm asking this anonymously, I don't want to start a fight). I hope you get what I'm saying, it only felt fair to me to let you know whatever concerns some fans might have, and maybe even give you a perspective you weren't considering? Of course you have the last word on this, and if you think this is not a big deal, I trust your judgement.

I wish you a fantastic day! (And sorry for my English, I'm not native, I tried my best!)

Yeah. So, I find that a little creepy, not very creepy, but definitely a bit.

I thought we were lucky to get Peter Davison in Good Omens 2. (He didn't audition. We offered him the part, as I've been a fan of his since 1978, and All Creatures Great and Small. He crushes it, and is heartbreaking, funny, and still somehow the moral compass of the episode he's in.) Ty Tennant auditioned, along with a number of other actors, and got the part because he did it best. (I didn't know who his family was when we cast him. I just liked the audition tape.)

If you're hunting down family connections, David's mother-in-law, Ty's grandmother, Sandra Dickinson, is in the Audible Sandman, too, as one of the Three Witches/Fates/Eumenides etc. And she was cast in it two years before David Tennant (although probably around the same time Michael Sheen was asked to be Lucifer). (I've been a fan of Sandra's since she was Trillian in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in 1981.)

Anyway, I'm sorry you're worried about Peter and Ty's performances, although I promise you have nothing to worry about, and I'm sorry that you worry that our possibly casting Georgia and Anna in a hypothetical and not-yet actually a real thing Season 3 might make people think of Staged and make them not able to enjoy Good Omens any longer. (Had I known people were this easily shaken I wouldn't have appeared in Staged either, in case my name at the front of Good Omens shattered the fragile illusion and revealed to people that the David Tennant and Michael Sheen who play Crowley and Aziraphale are actors.)

Starting in 2017 I was the recipient of mind-mangling quantities of Tumblr abuse for casting David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Aziraphale and Crowley, which was, many people made very clear to me, the worst casting in the whole entire utter history of casting, and something that Good Omens would never recover from, because for a start neither of them looked like the versions in people's heads, and I'd also miscast them badly because everyone knew that if you had to cast Sheen and Tennant, Michael had to play Crowley and David had to put on some weight and play Aziraphale. (It wasn't until May 2019 that people stopped grumbling.) So people worrying I'm going to cast Anna and Georgia in a season that hasn't even been commissioned in parts that haven't been written just makes me smile.

I hope this helps.

[silentstyx]

okay saw that you also write for ethan morgan and could you. write a siren!reader thats like SUPER into him and he finds it unnerving (hes not used to girls Actually liking him) and he agrees to go on a date w her?? you can choose where!

"Bright like blue" ~ Ethan Morgan x Siren! Reader

tw! siren

erm idk which episode had the siren i cant find it 😖 i was gonna rewatch it but nvm ig, anyways ik what sirens are so i'll js thug it out. Also this guy is such a geek that he fs does dates at his house and gets his family to leave the house. he's also broke. i hate this.

(backstory: friends w sarah/erica they knew you were a siren, told the group thats how everyone knows)

Ethan kept his distance from her, to the best of his abilities at least. The thought of her luring someone out and killing them just by using her voice was.... frightening to say the least.

Yet, every time she flashed him the smile he remembered the kind of person she was. That she wouldn't make random men fall in love with her and then lure them out to sea and drown them! Right?

He knew you liked him, Sarah told him awhile ago. He didn't know what to do though, a girl hasn't ever liked him before. He's never even been on a date. I mean he's never really been too interested in dating until last year! Except he would be lying if he said you weren't attractive, I mean you're one of the prettiest people he's seen. Like ever.

"Hey, Ethan wait up" You called for him.

You were going to the same class together, he already knew that. It scared him, but he knew. Why was he so terrified of you? He knew you wouldn't actually kill him, but every once in a while he'll catch a glimpse of a scale or gill thats usually well hidden and it freaks him out.

"you wanna walk to class with-" He cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Do you wanna go on a date?" He asks looking at you, "wi-with me! i mean... do you want to go on a date with me..."

The last part of that was less of a question and more of anxiety and muttering. Yet, you could only smile at him and his dorky self.

"yeah sure" you respond, contently.

He was confused, why was he more anxious about this than you? You're the one that likes him! He doesn't even know if he likes you! Ok, he does like you a little bit... but why aren't you freaking out? Jesus just answer her!

"okay, uhm uh do you wanna just meet me at my house then..?" He was trying to play cool but there was clear anxiety in his voice. His stutter with every other word.

"yeah, sounds cool. So... do you wanna walk to class together or what?" You say, almost teasingly. With that same smile you always give him. God, you're pretty.

He just nods his head and you guys walk and talk with each other to class. You were doing the majority of talking, but you were so funny and so interesting. He hadn't ever talked to you for this long before. Once you reached the class your shared giggles died down.

After sitting through the hour long class he was thinking about what to wear, he had a good idea of what it would be. In the halls you went with Sarah and Erica while he went with Benny and Rory. You both just happened to be talking about the same thing though.

You came over an hour after school ended, there were no cars in the drive way. It looked as if no one was home, except the lights were on. You knocked on the door.

He answered wearing his and blue collar shirt with his formal pants. He looked at your somewhat formal (dress/suit/etc) attire.

"You look great" he says with a nervous smile.

"Thanks," you say with a genuine voice, "you look... geeky"

You both chuckle and he invites you in, offering his hand to you. You grab his hand and he gets a vision of water and a dock and a song.

You being a siren this freaks him out and he lets go of you instantly. While you just look at him confused, why did he drop your hand so fast? He had finally just stopped acting weird around you, kind of. Is he going to start again?

He leads you to the dining room where he set up candles and music, with food that looks surprisingly edible.

The room looked nice but, you had to poke fun.

"Everything looks great, but." Your voice trailed off at the end, teasing him.

He looked at you nervously, "but?"

"Take off the sweater vest. It's killing the mood." You say, playfully making fun of him. Lightly laughing.

He just rolled his eyes, taking off the vest and throwing it somewhere behind the two of you.

You two were talking and laughing the whole night, besides eating the enormous amounts of food that the two of you happened to finish somehow?

"Hey, I wanna show you something c'mon!" You say excitedly, standing up while wiping your face.

He looked at you confused, was this the thing in his vision? What were you showing him? He got up slowly, following you out.

You finally both arrived, hand-in-hand, walking to a somewhat abandoned dock. It didn't look old and dangerous but there were no boats or any signs of recent human life. You leave him and go to the edge of the dock, sticking your feet over. Humming some olden siren tune.

Same song as in his vision, thus making him panic. He stays off the deck completely, scared of what you might do. You turn around, suggesting him to come over as you scoot over. Making room for him. Kicking your feet in the water. He walks over, slowly, to sit with you. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts his feet in the water. Kicking with your feet in the water.

Maybe some visions aren't bad.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Truth or Drink

actor!Eddie x actress!reader

summary: you and Eddie play a game of truth or drink for an interview

cw: mention of alcohol

You and Eddie had been hesitant to do an interview as a couple but as soon as you were offered an opportunity to play truth or drink, you knew you had to take it. Answering questions with alcohol would have definitely made it easier. Especially because you were unsure of what was going to be asked.

You sat across from each other at a table on the set where the segment was filmed and you both got comfortable while everything was being set up. You and Eddie had watched a couple of episodes the night before so you knew exactly what to expect. All you had to do was answer the questions truthfully and if you couldn’t, you had to take a shot.

The camera was all set and there was a countdown before the camera started rolling. You and Eddie put on your smiles that you had perfected over the years and turned to face the camera to introduce yourselves. The guy behind it counted down from three then pointed, signaling that it was your time to shine.

“I’m Eddie Munson.”

“And I’m y/n l/n and this is truth or drink.”

The camera cut and they brought in the cards that held the questions. For once, you weren’t nervous. And that was usual for you because you always were when it came to interviews. Eddie looked at you and reached across the table for your hand and you gave it to him to which he gave it a squeeze.

Eddie wasn’t nervous in the slightest. In fact, he was excited. Doing an interview with his girl and getting free booze? It was a win-win in his mind. And he was interested to see what kind of questions were going to be asked. He was an open book. Nothing was off limits.

“Do you want to start or should I?” You asked as you looked down at the card in front of you.

“Ladies first,” he gave your hand another squeeze before letting it go.

“Okay,” you nodded then cleared your throat. “This one’s starting off strong. Out of all of your exes, who’s your favorite?”

“Easy,” he shrugged and you panicked. “None. You’re my favorite, babe.”

“I don’t think that counts,” you shook your head. “I think you’re gonna have to drink.” You looked at the crew behind the camera and they all nodded in agreement. “Drink up, Eds.”

Eddie downed the shot and felt it burn all the way down. He slammed down the glass then picked up his own cards, letting out a laugh at the question he had just read.

“Oh, this one is good,” he laughed. “Fuck, marry, kill my most popular characters: Cal Burns, Mason Brooks, and Theodore Lee.”

“God, that is a good one,” you nodded. “Fuck Cal, obviously.”

“That was quick,” Eddie scoffed, but he did want you to say Cal. He really liked playing that character and the depth that he had to him.

“I like cowboys, sue me.” He didn’t blame you at all. He totally saw the appeal.

“Marry Mason because he was in the movie where we fell in love.” That warmed Eddie’s heart and made him feel like he never had before.

“You’re such a sap,” he teased, but he loved that about you. It was one of his favorite qualities about you.

“And you love it,” you winked, making him go weak in the knees and he was so glad he was sitting.

“I do,” he nodded with a smile.

“And I guess kill Theo. He’s an ass.”

“True,” he shrugged.

“My turn again. Name someone who you didn’t like working with.” Oh, he couldn’t answer that. He was thinking of someone, but even he knew it wasn’t right to say.

“Got me again, angel.” Eddie downed yet another shot and nodded in approval at the question on his card. This one was so good and definitely going to make you drink.

“What’s so funny, Edward?”

“Name someone who has slid into your DMs.” You thought about it, but didn’t think it was a good idea to say. You didn’t think it was right to make something so personal public. So, with that, you downed the shot, making a face as it burned your throat.

The game went on and on until Eddie finished all of his shots and you only had two empty glasses. Even though it wasn’t a competition, Eddie had crowned you the winner. Normally, you were the one who was closed off, but this time, you were an open book and he admired that you had answered almost every single question. There was so much growth from you since you had gotten together and he couldn’t have been more proud of you.

[calzone-d]

Always There (Ted Lasso x Fem!Reader)

pairing: ted lasso x fem!reader, mom(ish)!reader x henry lasso

word count: 3.7k (not the most proofread, sorry!)

warnings: henry being kind of sad, reader x henry fluff/comfort, ted being worried, michelle/jake slander, face-sitting, oral sex (f receiving), ass eating (it made the cut), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, anal fingering

a/n: that last episode gave me ideas, so that’s how this started. then sad ted made me horny, and that’s how this ended. if you like michelle/jake you may not like the first part of this. or most of my blog? anyways, hope you like it! my inbox is open as always!

summary: you and henry have a heart to heart before you comfort ted in a way that only you can.

find my masterlist here.

---------

Ted was unusually quiet as you ate dinner. You knew Michelle and Jake being in town really struck a nerve, but he’s gotten good at letting that stress go so that he can enjoy his time with you and Henry all together as a family. As you and Henry talked, he kept quiet as he listened in. You decided to not push it in fear of him shutting down, and of Henry hearing. He didn’t visit as much as you wished he could, so you wanted his time with you and Ted to be as happy and carefree as possible. If you had it your way, though, he’d just go ahead and move in. 

Henry had roped you in to help him build a quick lego set before bed. The boy adored you. He had become pretty attached to you, actually. On the couch, Ted watched quietly as you worked together and smiled to himself everytime you’d take over for a while and Henry would lean against you. Henry was obviously exhausted, but he wanted to stay up with you.

Putting him to bed was easy, as always. As he’d gotten older, your usual nighttime books turned into telling each other funny stories and recalling cherished memories. Ted stayed behind to put away dinner while you got Hnery settled. 

“So.. fill me in. How do you like Jake?”

“mm.. he’s okay, I guess.”

“just okay?”

“he only really talks to me in front of mom. and when I tell him things he never remembers… he was the one who told me to be more rough at school! I told him someone hurt my feelings, and he said I should do the same back.. I knew it was wrong, dad’s always told me that.. I guess I was just trying to make him like me. Then he was the most mad at me after.”

you’re silent for a moment as you take in henry’s words. before you can respond, the lasso boy is talking again,

“what do you think i should have done?”

the question shocks you for a split second. you’ve always tried to make it very clear you never intended on being a replacement for michelle. you let henry get to know you at his own pace, get comfortable around you at his own pace.

“well, hen.. i think you should’ve done what you thought was right.”

“maybe..”

“what do you wish you would’ve done?”

“i don’t know? talk to him about it, i guess. kinda like dad talked to you about his feelings the other night.”

your eyes widened as you recalled the conversation. ted was telling you about how he felt michelle had wronged him, which you completely agreed with, but it wasn’t a conversation either of you wanted henry to hear. luckily, with how good of a man Ted is, he didn’t really say anything bad about her that henry could’ve heard, but still. henry’s a kid, his parents relationship shouldn’t have been a concern in his mind.

“hun, i’m sorry you heard that. that was an adult conversation. you know your dad loves your mom very much-“

“no, he’s just nice to her. she hurt his feelings and broke his trust, so he doesn’t love her”

honestly? henry was right. spot on, even. he was a smart kid, but your heart hurt at the thought of him coming to those realizations by himself. you knew michelle didn’t play a part in explaining anything to him, and ted tried the best he could, but sometimes it was hard.

“trust is a really tricky thing, hen-“

“not really.”

“how so?”

“i mean, i trust you. remember that time i fell and scraped my knee? i was sad that you only had brown bandaids and you promised me that we could go to the store the next day and get blue ones.”

you nodded along, remembering the day very clearly.

“the next morning you took me to get them. so now i don’t worry that you won’t be there for me, because i know you will.”

“i’ll always be here, bub.”

“i trust dad. i trust my friends ellie and spencer in class. i trust grandma, and grandpa- ooh and your mom! i like her too. she’s always nice to me when i visit. her cookies are so good-“

henry’s rambling made you chuckle and you pulled him in close.

“…but dad doesn’t love mom. i promise i’m right, y/n”

“and what makes you think that?”

“because he loves you, and kisses you, and tells you how pretty you are.”

your cheeks reddened, “well, he does do that”

“and even when you aren’t there! he always tells me how nice you are and how much you love us. mom doesn’t like to talk about dad, and it’s usually about how he talks too much. her and jake get mad when i talk about my dad.”

it frustrated you the way michelle so easily talked bad about Ted, especially in front of henry. especially when she was the one who seemed to have done some immoral things.

“i’m sorry, hen. you shouldn’t be in the middle, ever.. it isn’t fair. if i’ve ever made you feel that way, i apologize.”

henry shrugged his shoulders and played with the hem of your t-shirt.

“s’okay.. it isn’t you. i just wish i could stay with you and dad. dad is happier now, and you guys order pizza every week.”

you cackle before you can stop yourself, “only when you’re here, hen.”

“oh. well still. being here makes me happier. i like your cat, too. she always comes and sleeps with me at night..”

his eyes fluttered closed as the aforementioned cat hopped up on his bed. you brought a hand up to rub at his back over his shirt, something you always did when he was trying to fall asleep. 

before he could get too comfy, ted came in. he was dressed in his pajamas and his hair seemed as if he’d been running his hands through it often. he sat down next to you on the bed and reached a hand out to smooth henry’s hair on top of his head.

“you tired, buddy?”

henry nodded.

“well i’m gettin’ there myself. i love you, hen. if you need anything come wake one of us up, y’hear?”, ted said before leaning over to kiss henry’s head. you smiled ad ted’s interaction with henry. the way he was as a dad made you swoon. 

“i love you too dad.. goodnight”, henry said as he cuddled back into you. 

after ted walked out, you spoke again. 

“your dad and i love you so much, baby. even if you’re not here, if you’re ever sad or confused or angry.. or anything, you know we’re only a call away.”

he huffed before murmuring, “wish mom would just let me stay.”

your eyebrows furrowed. you wish he could stay, too. his confession tugged at your heart as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“love you, y/n”

“i love you too, henry bug.”

you scratched his back until his breathing evened out and he was asleep. when you were finally able to sneak away from his room, you tucked the blankets around him and turned off his lamp.

ted was sitting on the couch, hair wet and floppy from a quick shower. he looked so domestic and cozy in his t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, but the smile he gave you when he met your gaze didn’t make his eyes crinkle like usual. it was clear something was up.

his eyes stayed on you as you took a seat next to him and snuggled into his side like henry had previously done to you.

“you okay, teddy?”

he contemplated telling you he was fine for a moment. contemplated just brushing it off like he’d been practically trained to do in his marriage for so long. 

“are you happy?”

“beyond happy, hun. i’ve got you, got henry bug, we just kicked ass building that lego set together, too. m’doing just fine.”

ted nodded softly as he mulled over your words. your hand played with a loose thread on his pants until he spoke again.

“just wonder if sometimes i should be doin’ more for you, y’know?”, ted’s words were soft and timid. behind them you could feel the side of him that was terrified of rejection. more specifically, your rejection.

“like what?”

ted’s shoulders shrugged, “dunno. maybe a trip to paris?”

“i don’t want a trip to paris, ted.”

his eyes were sad as he turned to look at you, “where do you wanna go, then?”

you shook your head at him softly. if you listened close enough it almost sounded like he felt you demanded a trip or some grand gesture.

“ted i don’t want a trip anywhere, i want you. i want you and henry, and i have that. i’m happy. with you, our relationship, all of it.”, you paused for a moment. 

 “have i done something or said something to make you think otherwise?”

ted shook his head immediately. “no, not at all! i just.. i’m used to having to guess.. and even when i guessed, everything was still wrong. i just don’t want you to be unhappy and me not know, o-or bored, or-”

“you’re spiraling, honey.”, you grab both of his hands in yours. “i fucking love you, ted. more than you could ever imagine. henry, too. you two make me so damn happy, and there’s not a single thought that’s ever crossed my mind that has anything to do with splitting us up. we’re a family now, ted. we’ve got something fucking great going. m’not interested in losing that, or you.”

ted chuckles at your firm tone, and although it’s a watery chuckle, it makes you smile.

“y’mean it?”

he sniffles and smiles more when you nod. you use his hands to pull him closer so that you can press a gentle kiss to his lips. after that, you move to his cheek, across his cheek bone, and over to his ear.

“i’m more than happy, hun. more than you know.”

ted let out a content hum before putting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you in for another kiss.

this one was more intense, and you swung a leg over his lap as you moved to straddle him. his warm hands found a home on your hips and he gave them a loving squeeze. your lips pressed slow, warm kisses to his neck. soft sighs left his swollen lips as he let his head fall against the back of the couch.

“you make me a happy man, darlin’..”, his voice was low and full of need.

you hummed against his neck in response as you slipped a hand under his shirt, and brushed across the hair on his belly. he let out a soft moan at the way you angled your hips forward to reach the other side of his neck. the sound made you chuckle and you brought your lips to his ear.

“shh, honey. gotta stay quiet for me.”

your words made him whimper, especially combined with the slow movements of your hips against his throbbing cock.

“ohhh-“, his groan was cut off once your lips were on his. his tongue swirled and prodded against yours as you found a rhythm grinding on top of him. you swear you heard him whine when you pulled away.

you bit your lip and smiled at the way his lips chased yours.

“can’t fool around on the couch tonight, baby.. we gotta go to the bedroom, c’mon”

his eager “yes mam” as he got up to follow you only made you more excited.

as soon as you stepped into your room, you slipped out of your shirt and sweatpants, ted mirrored your actions with a smirk.

ted pulled you in by the waist before you could lie back on the bed. his hands were warm against your bare skin and the hair across his abdomen tickled as you pushed yourself up against him. his mouth captured yours in a hot kiss, full of need. his teeth were biting at your bottom lip, tongue swirling with yours as your breathing grew labored.

one of his hands slid up to tangle itself in your hair. he pulled your head to the side as his lips made their way down your neck, and across your shoulders. ted sucked and nipped at your collarbone, leaving marks you hoped wouldn’t be too noticeable tomorrow.

“oh… honey”, you whispered.

ted hummed against your skin as he softly brushed his fingers over your belly and down to your pussy. you knew you were soaked. just the thought of having him to yourself, knowing he was all yours, had you burning with desire.

his thick fingers slid inbetween your lower lips, spreading your slick arousal and occasionally swiping over your swollen clit.

“need you to use me, honey..”, ted’s words were almost inaudible as he moved up to kiss your jaw. a smirk found it’s way to your lips as you batted your eyelashes at him.

“oh?”

“need y’to know i’m all yours. want to make you happy, please baby.”

you pulled him to get on the bed as an idea quickly formed in your brain. ted was always so eager to please, such a giver. he got off on making you feel good and loved being the one to make you orgasm. just knowing he was the only person seeing you and touching you that way was enough to make his cock throb.

you smiled and bit your lip as you instructed him, “lie back, teddy.”

a cheeky smile grew on his face, he immediately knew what was going on. one of his hands reached down to palm himself through his boxers while you straddled him and made your way up his body. by the time you were hovering over his face he was practically drooling in anticipation.

his eyes were lit up once you lowered yourself on him. ted’s arms came up to hold your thighs before he went to work. your eyes locked with his when he took that first lick, and you could tell by the look in them that this was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

he dragged his tongue up and down your folds, moaning at the taste of you. the nose of his you loved so much would bump against your clit every so often, making you whimper. 

you watched as his eyes fluttered closed and he let himself get lost in the taste of you. his tongue seemed to never stop, prodding at your entrance, swirling around your clit, weaving through your lower lips. after a few minutes you brought your hands down to stroke at his hair, but your light touches soon turned into you full on grabbing his hair and using it as leverage.

ted admitted pretty early on that he loved when you pulled his hair. it was one of the first “new” things he’d realized he enjoyed after having sex with you.

your finger tugged gently at his thick head of hair and you slowly ground your hips down on his face. his hands moved from your hips to your ass cheeks, encouraging you and helping you move. the tip of ted’s nose pressed firmly into your clit with every rock, drawing moans out of you like it was nothing.

“mmm, ted.. that’s so good, fuck!”, you had to mentally remind yourself to stay quiet. it was a huge change from your usually loud moans and pleads.

as your orgasm built, you realized it was a good thing you were sitting on ted’s face. he was never good at keeping quiet. it was too easy to get lost in you.

when he finally opened his eyes to meet yours, his pupils were blown and his lids were hooded. you kept his gaze as you reached a hand up to pull at one of your hardened nipples, still using your other hand pull at his hair.

you opened your hand up to palm at one of your tits. the feeling combined with ted’s hands kneading your ass had you right on the brink of what you knew would be another amazing orgasm. ted was moaning into your pussy like a mad man, and the only thing more crude was the sounds that came from him putting in every effort to make you fall apart on his tongue.

“shit, oh- i’m right there baby..”

ted didn’t dare ease up on his grip as you came, holding you firmly against his face as you trembled on top of him. he worked you through your orgasm and when you went to get off his face, your thighs felt like they were going to give out.

as you lifted off him, he continued to lazily tongue at your now dripping cunt. he seemed to follow it with his mouth as you pulled away. you flopped beside him, your chest heaving, as you attempted to catch your breath.

ted, on the other hand, didn’t miss a beat. as you were practically gulping down air, he rolled over and began kissing over the swell of your tits. his face felt wet against you from where he ate you out, and just thinking about the dirtiness of it all had you wanting even more.

your breath hitched in your throat as his teeth scraped lightly over one of the pebbled buds. his lips were red and glistening, making them look even more perfect as he wrapped his lips around your nipple. almost like a chain reaction, the feeling had you squirming underneath him.

by the time he was satisfied, both your nipples glistened with the mixture of ted’s spit, and the remnants of your orgasm.

“you got another in you, darlin’?” his voice was gentle but full of need. his fingers softly stroked the sides of your quivering thighs.

“mhm.. want you deep, though. need to feel you..” your mind was hazy as your words trailed off.

“you know i’ll take good care of you, sweet thing..”

he softly grabbed at your hips, pulling you closer before flipping you over. you were entirely his, completely at his mercy. you needed him so badly you would’ve let him do whatever the hell he wanted.

ted’s hands pulled your hips into him, arching your back in the process. you’d grown needy, and when you softly pressed back onto him it was obvious he’d shed his boxers sometime throughout the night. the hair at the base of his cock was scratchy as it brushed over the skin of your ass. his cock was hot and thick against your swollen pussy, and you could barely form thoughts that weren’t of him.

the feeling of him backing away made you whimper in protest, but before you could speak, his hands were on your ass cheeks. you felt him pull them apart before his tongue collected more of your sweet arousal. ted squeezed your ass as he used it to pull you further into his face, completely burying his face into your most intimate places.

you gasped in surprise as his tongue moved upwards and prodded against your other hole, licking at you softly as his thumb came up to tap against your clit.

“ted, oh my god..”

he barely pulls away, “too much?”

“no no.. fuck please keep going honey”, your words were rushed as you were eager to get his mouth back on you.

just the thought of how dirty it was had you panting and groaning into the sheets. the action itself had your pussy clenching around nothing.

ted’s tongue poked and prodded at the tight ring of muscle as his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass. his thumb continued to tap and rub at your clit, making you whimper and push back onto his face. the man clearly didn’t mind. in fact, it felt as if he pressed his face further into you.

the hair of his mustache tickled but didn’t deter you one bit. ted’s spit was practically dripping between your cheeks when he pulled away.

words weren’t even forming in your brain, but you didn’t need them because a few seconds later the head of ted’s cock was brushing through your soaked folds. luckily, he didn’t tease you and eased himself in.

taking ted’s cock was always a stretch, but with your orgasm earlier and ted’s love for foreplay, it felt a tiny bit easier this time. ever the gentlemen, he still gave you time to adjust before pulling out and pushing back into you.

“honey you’re- fuck, so fucking tight.”

you could only moan in response as you worked your hips back against him as best as you could. with each stroke, his cock brushed your g-spot before nudging against your cervix. your face was buried in the pillow, because at this point, it was the only way for you to stay quiet.

as ted worked his cock in and out of you, you turned your head to the side and rested your cheek against the pillow.

“ted.. can you- shit- put your thumb- mmf, oh fuck!”

it was like he could read your mind. before you finished your sentence ted had brought a thumb up and was spreading the wetness from your previous activities around the tight ring of muscle seated right above where his cock was stuffed in your pussy.

you knew your only choice was to shove your face back into the pillow under your head as he slowly worked the tip of this thumb in. it was the only way for you to be quiet. ted’s cock hit the deepest part of you while he worked his thumb in and out of your ass.

“that feel good, darlin’?”

what he could barely make out as a “yes” left your lips as moans poured constantly from them. ted’s other hand reached around so he was able to rub at your clit, eager for your impending orgasm.

“shit, I can tell, baby. squeezin’ me so tight, ugh”, his accent had gotten thicker and it only added to the mess of fog in your head.

he worked you perfectly until you were on the verge of an orgasm.by now he knew every tell, every cue.

“i feel you, baby. that’s it.. come on my cock sweetheart, take it..”

ted’s filthy words combined with the perfect stretch of his cock, the added sensation from his thumb, and the tight circles he was rubbing on your clit sent you right over the edge.

the little sense you had left is what kept your face in the pillow as you came. your thighs quivered as ted shoved his cock as deep in you as he could manage before you felt his warm cum fill you up.

he eased his thumb from your ass as he pulled out and lied down beside you, immediately taking you into his arms.

“you okay, honey?”

“i’m… im good.. fuck, ted.”, you panted.

ted’s smile was confident as he pulled you in to kiss your face.

“i love you so much. i’m so glad you’re here for us.. so glad you love us.”, he murmured into the top of your head.

“m’not going anywhere, teddy.”

he hummed in response as you both came down from the post-orgasm high coursing through your veins.

thanks for reading!

[classicanalyzer]

What If Season 3 - What If... the Red Guardian Stopped the Winter Soldier? Thoughts

"Now, think. Think back. What's the first thing you see?" Alexei Shostakov

"I see... I see... I see Coney Island." The Winter Soldier

"See! You are somebody. You are the Great Coney Island hero. And the Red Guardian is proud to fight next to you." Alexei Shostakov

Episode 3 was so peak. Alexei is so fun! I really wish we got a movie, a show, or something with him because he's such a fun character. His dynamic with Bucky is also pretty fun. We got so much lore about the assassination of Howard and Maria Stark. This is the last episode written by A.C. Bradley, and man I'm going to miss her writing and work in What If. Also, this episode was supposed to be in S2 (footage of it can be seen in S2's title sequences and the S2 finale fanfare) but was swapped out for the Corpsman Nebula episode which was supposed to be in S3.

Alexei's character in this episode is really great. He may be really enthusiastic about his belief in Communism and the Soviet Union, but it's clear he genuinely wants to do good. I really like how he isn't as dumb as he looks and how he sees the good and best in people. Someone also pointed out how since this is 1991, the USSR is on the verge of collapse, and Alexei thinks they will overthrow the US which shows how he was kept in the dark by his bosses about the USSR's deteriorating situation. Even Alexei realizes after he knows Dreykov and the Red Room are working with Capitalists that those at the top never truly cared about the ideals of the USSR as he did. I also find it funny that the What If situation possibly came that, What If Alexei stole the file of the Winter Soldier's assignment lmao. David Harbour was amazing casting for Alexei in the Black Widow movie and this episode continues to prove why it was perfect casting.

I really love how Dreykov and the Red Room knew about and was connected to HYDRA and the Winter Soldier. It makes me wonder if the Red Room's Sky Fortress was a HYDRA collaboration and the Red Room simply cut their ties with HYDRA after the Winter Soldier movie. While this doesn't fix my feelings about the Red Room's Sky Fortress, someone pointed out how HYDRA most likely covered up the Sky Fortress from SHIELD. This makes so much more sense than if the Sky Fortress was simply able to hide for so long because it was simply good at "hiding" lmao. I also liked how it pays off a fact from S2 Episode 2, Bucky as the Winter Soldier was used by the USSR. That's some great multiversal continuity there haha. I love the Red Room presence in this episode with Dreykov and the Red Room Task Force soldiers. Also, Antonia Dreykov being in the picture is pretty sad and dark given what happened to her and how Dreykov never truly cared about his own daughter.

I love to see Bill Foster in this episode and I love his suit from S2 Episode 2. It's just really nice to see Bill Foster as the hero Goliath since we never saw him in action before in the movies. Ranger Morales was also a fun new side-character for this episode.

The montage of Alexei and Bucky heading to the United States was perfect and funny with the major differences in their purpose and tone. When that Winter Soldier theme kicks in, I got the chills. I like that Alexei does have his morals, even if he says it's to spread Communism and the revolution, it shows how he doesn't tolerate the work HYDRA is doing. It's really funny seeing Alexei quip during his fight with Bucky that Bucky just resorts to biting him.

I laughed when Bucky and Alexei both agreed to go off the cliff, even Uatu was surprised. These two super soldier idiots really make for a funny team once Bucky loosens up a bit. The Russian music in this episode is both epic and funny given how it's used. I also love the comedic gag of Alexei trying his best to get Bucky to stop resorting to killing as the first solution to every problem.

Bucky legit has a mental crisis when he realizes he failed for the first time. I love the arc where Bucky even if for this mission broke out of the programming and realizes HYDRA never cared for them. The scene with him remembering Coney Island is so heartwarming given how he and Steve hung out at Coney Island. Likewise seeing him reject Dreykov’s kill order on Alexei was heartwarming to see. I also love how he listened to Alexei's advice of using his metal arm to block the bullets when Stane tried to kill them. Their friendship (they’re basically siblings in this episode) truly is one of the most heartwarming things to see how Alexei managed to bring the good out of the Winter Soldier and both of them considering themselves friends. Sebastian Stan's voice performance went a long way from him phoning it in back in Episode 1. Also “Technique!” haha.

"He's right, though. About the Red Room, Dreykov..." Alexei Shostakov

"Dreykov's a pig. All of them are. But not you. You are a good man." The Winter Soldier/Coney Island Hero

The Rook being Obadiah Stane was a surprise to me. It didn't register that was him until near his death and the end credits confirmed my suspicions. I was really surprised but yet also not surprised that Obadiah told the Russians (and therefore by extension HYDRA) about Howard's recreation of the super soldier serum. God, seeing Obadiah talk about how "amazing" Capitalism makes me sick, and glad to see him fall out of the window after Bucky threw Alexei's shield at him. Hopefully, with Howard and Maria Stark alive along with Stane's death, Tony's life will be a lot less messed up and has less daddy issues.

I really hope Vasily Karpov dies in Las Vegas that's one less HYDRA personal in this universe. Also, I hope when Bucky was being brainwashed that this time, it was less successful than the previous moments, thanks to Alexei's influence. Plus, thanks to Alexei disavowing the Red Room and his nation, the Siberian Winter Soldiers will never occur!

Also hell yes, Alexei gets to be a part of the Avengers and Captain America knows him!

Episode 3 is truly a peak episode and showcases a dynamic ripe with story and character exploration. It'll be very interesting to see how Thunderbolts will show the two interact. This episode uses its characters amazingly well.

Note: Someone pointed out that so far, each episode has a tiny person interact with someone or something much taller (Sam with Gamma Apex Bruce, Kingo with Celestial Agatha, and now Alexei and Bucky with Goliath). I wonder what Episode 4 will do to continue this streak haha.

"Fighting for survival. For acceptance. Fighting to be somebody. But in the end, the fight is never the point. It's your friendships that change the course of history. Even when they end." Uatu

[simonisferal]

not you again! “scaramouche x male reader”

episode thirteen: holy shit, am i hallucinating or do i see a bobble-headed bitch coming my way? 📖

warnings: vulgar language, death threats, average scarayn interaction, i lost my train of thought mid sentence and winged it

notes: i rewrote this four times and i hated each version so just have this 😭

words: 900

You remember the last time he looked at you like that.

It was three years ago, the summer you were planning to move from Inazuma. Your parents wanted a new start someplace else.You didn't complain. You couldn't complain. How would you explain everything, let alone anything to those two?

He didn't take it well, as expected. You tried, you really did, but it was a futile attempt as he turned away from you and stormed off.

He is still the same person.

Scaramouche's blood ran cold. Of course he knew you were going to be there—he purposefully went there to see you—but you were different now. Your eyes didn't have the same pain they used to have. Even before the summer started, you managed to harbor some sort of hurt in them. Scaramouche can't figure out if that's a good thing or not.

He looked about the same. The same mole under his left eye, the familiar wrinkle on his cheek when he pressed his lips together, the demure posture he forces himself to wear. His eye bags were heavier and darker, his nose was crooked from where you last touched him, and his hands wavered by his side before he put them in his pocket.

It was probably the flask of vodka Childe decided to sneak in and let you drink that made you remember so much but you speak. "What are you doing here?" You don't miss the way his eyes flicker to the side just for a second, his jaw clenches, or how his grasp inside of his pockets tighten. "Nothing important. I have to do something."

There was an awkward silence that filled the cellar, basement, whatever the bitch is. "Do what?"

It wasn't louder than a whisper but you know he still heard it. Scaramouche opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. He clears his throat. "I need to say…" He pauses. "...Sorry."

It was a confusing feeling. Someone you shared years with, someone who'd never back down easily, someone who'd rather run away from his problems than settle down and work them out, saying sorry. Did he change or is he joking for the hell of it?

"Sorry? Is that all?" You can't help the accusatory snarl that comes out. He could've done anything else, but showing up in person just to apologize is crazy. "Did you really come here for that or did you see me and think it was funny to joke?"

You can tell that he regretted talking to you, maybe even coming from wherever he was, but you didn't care. You continued your little rant, not giving him a chance to speak, "I'm supposed to fucking believe your 'sorry' ass when you can't even look me in the eye? That's a load of bullshit. You're here on someone else's agenda, not yours." You point a finger at him and then retract it for a second before pointing it again, this time with more sentiment.

He looks away from the ground and up at you. His eyebrows were furrowed and a hint of bitterness. "You can't even speak your own mind. Don't come after me with your idiotic view of me."

"Right, because you can." You scoff.

Scaramouche glares at you. He takes a small step closer to you, not really making a difference in the large gap you two have. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means. You think playing ’good little son’ is gonna get you your mother’s favor back? Hilarious."

"I don't want her favor back," He snarks. "I don't need it." He takes a small step closer to you, as if daring you to take one too. He had this strange way of pulling you closer to him.

"Of course! Because you going to Harvard was always the plan—you just needed to convince your mom it wasn't what you wanted, like the manipulator you fucking are." You didn't really care that the music upstairs stopped or that the stairs hesitantly creaked as more weight was put onto them.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You never just have the patience to liste—"

You cross your arms. "Because you do?"

Scaramouche pauses. He never thought you would remind him of his mother in any way; that was one of the traits he liked about you, but now, seeing you 'scold' him as if he's in the wrong just made him feel exasperated. "Stop saying that like I'm the only one with flaws. We both know what sick game you were playing while…"

He can't even get the words out of his mouth.

They tasted too bitter and bloody and he struggled even thinking about it.

"I didn't do anything. And if you weren't so stuck up your ass about how I felt about you back then, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Oh, really now?" He raised an eyebrow and leaned in a bit closer to you. "Where would we be then? Still together?" It was a sick joke, the first thing that came to mind even though he had practiced speaking to you in the car beforehand. He expected a slap, maybe another punch, or an outburst of insults coming his way, but no.

Instead there was just an awkward shift in posture, a pressed frown, and a forced scoff.

"Maybe."

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