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babymetaldoll · 4 years ago

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DIWK - Chapter six: "I don't know everything, despite the fact you think that I do"

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Word count: 12,6K

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drug use, drug detox, physical violence. Spencer being a jerk.

Summary: (Y/N) had enough of Spencer's attitude and plans an intervention on her own.

A/N: Hello! how are you? how's your week going? my life is a mess and I'm fighting with a lot of anxiety and stress after the month I spent with my grandparents, so I've been taking everything with calm in the latest days. I hope you all enjoy this chapter! Spencer is... and then reader... ok, read it, and see you in the comments! Stay safe, kids!!!

Series Masterlist

───※ ·❆· ※───

(Y/N)'s point of view

After New Orleans, I thought things were starting to get a little better. For a few days, Spencer was a lot like himself again. It was refreshing and exciting. He smiled. He even looked like he had slept. And he wasn't rude. Not at first. Not until that Friday.

- "Hey, pretty girl"- Morgan appeared next to my desk and tapped on the pile of files I was working on- Got any plans for tonight?

- "I was actually going to meet my boyfriend. Why? What do you have in mind?"

Yes. Paul and I had a date, 'cos I hadn't seen him in two weeks. We had spent San Valentine's apart, 'cos we were out on a case. And I barely noticed it. I didn't have my hopes high for that night, though. Maybe pizza, a movie... I didn't feel like having sex, even when it had been over a month since we had done it.

- "I'm clubbing tonight, and I know you are a party girl. So, do you wanna come with me?"

- "As tempting as it sounds, I pass"- I smiled at my friend and shook my head- "All I can do today is have a quiet evening, eat something, watch a movie and then call it a day."

- "Are you sure? 'cos Emily is on board, and you two are my party sidekicks."- I chuckled and kept shaking my head- "Ok, alright. You lose. What about you, pretty boy?"

Spencer had been awfully quiet that whole afternoon. He was buried in his paperwork and only moved from his seat to get coffee.

- "Reid? are you listening?"- Morgan waved until he got his attention. But Spencer apparently didn't want to talk- "Hello? Earth to Reid."

- "What the hell do you want?"- I brought up my eyes to my best friend, 'cos his voice was as annoyed as rude.

- "Hey, hey, slow down, kid. What's your problem?"

- "I'm trying to work, and you don't let me! That's my problem!"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and took a deep break.

- "Ok, my bad."

Spencer glued his eyes on his files again, and I kept looking at him closely for a minute. He was fidgety on his chair. He kept scratching his arms, and he had flipped from human to whatever he was when he yelled at Morgan in a blink.

Of course, shit wasn't over yet.

- "Hey, do you want a ride home?"- I asked him and stood by his desk on my way out. He was getting ready to leave too.

- "I can take the subway on my own"- he talked to me like I was insulting him- "And I don't wanna get in the way of your fake date,"- he grumbled and put on his coat

- "Sorry, what?"- I wasn't sure I had gotten that right.

- "Yeah, you have a date with your boyfriend, and I don't want to get in the way."

- "What are you talking about, Reid?"- I couldn't believe his words. He was acting like a jerk.

- "You know, I don't get it"- he was mad. Furious. And he snapped in front of me, out of the blue- "Why are you still dating that jerk if you don't even love him? does he fuck you that good?"

I could see from the corner of my eye how every head in the bullpen turned to us. I looked at my best friend in the eyes and didn't say a word. I just nodded and grabbed my purse.

- "Enjoy your weekend, Reid."

I knew I didn't have to take those words personally. Spencer wasn't himself. But I was growing tired of justifying him in front of the team and myself. It was time for the big guns.

I tried to ease my mind that night, preparing myself for what I knew I had to do the next day. But I couldn't shake Reid from my thoughts. I needed to know what he was doing if he had dinner. If he was able to sleep. Shit! I needed to know if he was getting high all alone in his apartment.

What if he overdosed? What if he just decided to go a little further and his body couldn't resist it? He was too skinny. He wasn't eating correctly. Shit! He could die.

- "Hey, babe. Are you ok?"- Paul asked me all of a sudden. He was kissing my neck and trying to get under my shirt, and I wasn't even moving. I was thinking about Reid and how to help him. And meanwhile, my boyfriend was trying to have sex with me.

- "Sorry, what?"- I know, that wasn't a good answer.

- "Are you even here?"- he sighed and let me go- "Let me guess, you are thinking about a case."

- "No, I'm just worried about Reid."

I know. That wasn't a good answer either, considering Paul's angry face as soon as he heard his name. Paul hated Reid. Ok, Paul hated every single one of my friends, but he despised Spencer. He would almost see him as his sworn enemy, and they had seen each other in person twice in over a year.

- "Now you think about that nerd when we are making out?!"

- "What?! No! that's not what I meant!"- I tried to explain, but it was clear that wasn't going to work- "He is going through a tough time after the abduction and..."

- "Yeah, yeah"- he cut me off and stood up- "Everything about Spencer is more important than me! I don't wanna hear that shitty and sad kidnap story again!"

- "I'm just trying to say I am worried about him!"- I stood up and followed him around the apartment.

- "You are always worried about him!"

- "He is my friend. He is in pain!"

- "And what about me?! Do you even care about me?!"

- "Sure! of course, I do!"

I knew that was it all of a sudden. I didn't even want to argue with Paul, and neither explain to him how much I needed to help Reid. So I didn't say a word. I only stood in front of him. He brought up his eyes to me and sighed. It took him a few seconds to gather the courage to say what he wanted to say. But when he did, it wasn't good.

- "You are in love with him, aren't you?"

His question made my blood boil. I hated he made such a presumption only because I was worried about Spencer. I loved him, sure, but because he was my best friend. I was with him all day, every day. I saw him more than my own family. More than Lu, Mikey, or Frank. And I knew Reid was in pain and in real danger. Of course, Spencer was my priority.

- "No, Paul. I am not in love with him."- I looked right into his eyes and tried to make my point clear- "He is going through a shitty situation, and I wanna help him. That's all."

- "And do you love me?"

He had never asked me that before. We haven't talked about "love" in the whole year and a half we had been together. And, to be honest, I didn't want to lie. I didn't want to hurt him either, but it was the end of the line, and we both knew it.

- "Paul..."

- "That's a no,"- he said and folded his arms across his chest- "If you don't love me, why are you with me?"

- "Do you love me?"

- "Of course, I do!"- I raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a second - "Don't profile me!"

- "I'm not profiling you. I'm just sure you don't! And that's ok. Paul, we... This is not a relationship. It's two lonely persons holding onto something that didn't work."

We just stared at each other and didn't say a word for what seemed to be for ages.

- "Despite what you might think, I know you, (Y/N)"- he took a step closer to me and kissed my forehead- "And I know you love him."

- "Paul, I really don't. He is my friend, and I'm worried about him"- he simply nodded and sighed.

- "Sure thing. Take care"- started walking to the door and never looked back.

I stood alone in the middle of my apartment. That was it. The easiest breakup because neither of us was in love. And yet, I felt empty and sad. Tears started falling down my cheeks, and I didn't notice them until I was sobbing.

I wasn't sad I had lost Paul. I didn't understand where that emptiness and misery were coming from. Maybe it was grief for a relationship that was never meant to work. Perhaps I was sad because I had failed to maintain a relationship. After all, work had turned into my life. I was just like my father and my brother.

A part of me felt I was slowly turning into what I had fought not to be. And letting Paul might mean I was no longer the old (Y/N). And the new (Y/N) scared me: I was a Fed, I worked over 50 hours a week, and I had killed people. Bad people, but I had pulled the trigger. I knew I had the job of my dreams, and I knew I loved working at the BAU. But with every day that passed, I was walking further and further away from the version of me I loved.

And I was scared of what the new (Y/N) was going to be like. Was she going to be like her dad and lose her family due to her work? or like her brother? who couldn't have a normal life 'cos being a detective was more significant.

I knew we all made our own personal decisions, but a part of me felt it. We were all cut from the same cloth, and I was meant to grow old, alone, and the BAU was going to be my whole life until the day I retired, and the loneliness consumed me.

- "I need a drink."

Spencer's point of view

I took a cab home. I didn't want to take the subway because it would take longer to get there, and I couldn't wait that long. I needed one more fix.

I had been telling myself the same for a whole week now: Just one more. One last time.

But it never was the last time. Every night I failed, and that Friday, I was so eager to forget, I wasn't thinking straight. I snapped at Morgan and (Y/N), just 'cos I was going insane, craving Dilaudid.

After New Orleans, I decided to stop using it. And for two days, I did it. But, of course, I couldn't handle the need. That needle was going to be my end, and I was struggling every day to quit. It was impossible to stop on my own when I needed to quieten the pain somehow.

You don't know how much pain you are into until you numb yourself, and the weight of all your troubles and regrets is lifted from your chest. I knew it was eating me alive, but I had to be strong and quit. So, every day I tried. And every day, I failed. Just like that night, when I laid in bed and slowly unwrapped my belt from my arm, losing all connection with reality.

I had yelled at my friends, and they were probably angry at me. But shit! It was worth it. Nothing was even relevant as long as I could feel the relief Dilaudid gave me.

But it never lasted. And the following day, I regretted it all. I woke up dressed on my bed, a needle next to me and an empty bottle of Dilaudid by its side. Just like a junkie. Tears filled my arms as soon as I realized what had happened. What I had done: I had failed yet again.

My whole body was shaking. I needed to eat something. My last proper meal had been Thursday when (Y/N) and I stopped for dinner on our way back home. And I guess if it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't have eaten at all.

I took a long shower, trying to wash away the guilt. It's obvious to say it didn't work. But I consoled myself thinking last night had been the last time. That day I was going to be strong enough, and I was going to quit. I had decided. Nothing could stop me that time.

My breakfast was miserable: I made coffee and took a look in my fridge. Nothing. All I ate that morning was a bowl of cereal (without milk) and two cups of coffee and sugar. Sugar and coffee, actually, like everybody teased me.

I tried to read for a while, at a normal peace, because my head was still fuzzy. So I sat in my living room and grabbed a book from my coffee table: "The Illustrated Man."

After a few hours and four books later, my mind kept coming to the same place. I was out of Dilaudid. And it was a good thing, 'cos now I just wasn't going to get any more. That was it. I had officially quit. Yes. And I felt good. It was a new day, and I was ready to be clean and sober. So I made myself another cup of coffee to celebrate and took a look at my bookshelf. I picked another three books and sat on my armchair, ready to keep on reading. I didn't need drugs to be happy.

Around three in the afternoon, I couldn't stop moving on the couch as I read the sixth book of the day. I drank yet another cup of coffee, even when I knew what I really needed was to get some real food. But I didn't care to starve at that moment. There was only one thought in my mind: Getting high.

Maybe I wasn't ready to quit. I should try leaving it periodically. Actually, perhaps having a bottle around the house could help me ease my mind. Knowing it was there made me feel better. As good as using it.

I was going insane. I kept debating whether I should stay home or find my dealer and just get a little dose. Just enough for one more time. Maybe two. I kept walking around my apartment, creating excuses in my head to get high.

And that was when I heard a knock on my door. I stopped on my tracks, confused. I wasn't waiting for anyone, and I wouldn't really have many unannounced visits. So I walked silently towards the door and looked through the peephole.

- "Shit"- my voice was a whisper I prayed (Y/N) hadn't heard.

What was she doing there? Maybe she had come to talk about my attitude at the BAU. I had said some awful things, but that wasn't really a good moment. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't want anyone to see me. So I didn't open the door.

But she knocked again. I didn't move and almost didn't breathe as I stood still by the door, waiting for her to leave. But she wasn't leaving. Instead, she kept knocking over and over again, driving me insane until I snapped.

- "What the fuck do you want?!"- I opened the door and yelled at her face. She widened her eyes, surprised, and didn't move.

- "You just came to stand there and look at me?- I shouted, and she flinched. She had to leave. I wanted her out of my house. But rather than leaving, she walked in and stood in the middle of the apartment.

- "What is wrong with you?"- she was making an effort to stay calm, but I could tell she was scared. She kept biting the inner part of her cheeks and crossed her arms on her chest. Was she scared of me?

- "Spencer, why are you acting like this?"

- "What the fuck is your problem, (Y/N)? Why are you in my house uninvited?!"

- "I called you like three times. I wanted to invite you to my house for dinner, but you didn't answer, so I got worried."

- "As you can see, I'm fine! And no, I don't wanna go to your house for dinner!"

Her eyes were wide opened, staring right into mine, and I swear it physically hurt to see her. She shouldn't be there. I needed her out. I didn't want her to see me like that, and I needed to get out and get some more Dilaudid. Now more than ever.

- "I'm making lasagna"- (Y/N) whispered- "Mikey, Frank, and Lu are coming."

- "I don't care, I don't wanna go to your house, I don't wanna go anywhere! I'm fine here."

- "But, honey bunny..."

- "Stop calling me that!! I hate it!! It's a stupid nickname! I'm not your fucking honey bunny!!"

The silence in my apartment was so deep, I could hear my own heart racing inside my chest. (Y/N)'s eyes filled with tears that soon started falling down her cheeks. She dropped her shoulders, and her arms hung at her sides, slacks.

- "Please"- she begged- "Tell me what's wrong. I want to help you, Spencer."

- "There's nothing wrong! don't you get sometimes I don't want to be stuck at you?! I already have to see your face all day at work. I deserve a break during the few weekends we have off!"

- "I know you don't mean that"- her voice broke, and her chin trembled, but she still made her best not to cry.

- "You don't know that. You don't know shit, (Y/N)."

I stayed quiet and looked away from her. I couldn't stare at those sad eyes for another second.

- "Please, leave"- I managed to control my voice for a second, in a poor attempt not to hurt her anymore. But she shook her head and sniffed.

- "No, Spencer, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong with you. I am worried."

- "There's nothing fucking wrong with me, (Y/N)! Don't you get it?! I just don't wanna be with you!"

- "Please"- she begged, sobbing in front of me. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't bear to see her anymore.

So I ruined everything and hurt her. I pushed her. She nearly fell back but managed to stabilize. She was shocked by my actions, but I didn't even have time to think about what I was doing. All I could think of that minute was that I needed her out of my house to buy drugs and get high.

- "Spencer, what the hell are you doing?"

- "I asked you nicely, but you didn't leave. So now I won't be nice anymore. Get out!!"

I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of my sight. She cried, pleading I would tell her what was wrong with me. But I didn't listen. Instead, I dragged her out of my apartment and slammed the door. I could hear her crying in the hall for a moment, and it enraged me. I thought if she was crying, she herself had caused it. She had appeared at my house at the wrong moment, unannounced.

It wasn't my fault. I just wanted her to leave. I did what I had to do.

And I didn't regret it.

Not until Sunday afternoon, when an announced knock on my door forced me to drag my stoned body from the couch. It was a delivery boy who gave me a package and left. It had nothing written on it. Not even my name. When I opened the box, I found a computer and a note.

- "Play me."

I knew I was still stoned, but not enough to be imagining those kinds of things. I took the laptop to the couch with me. There was a video ready to be played in it. So I pushed play.

- "What the fuck do you want?!"- my heart dropped. It was me, but I could barely recognize my own face- "You just came to stand there and look at me?"

It was a recording of me yelling at (Y/N). She had taped everything, and I couldn't believe my own eyes. I was a monster.

- "I'm making lasagna"- my chin quivered at that scene. Her voice was a whisper, and I was out of myself- "Mikey, Frank, and Lu are coming."

- "I don't care, I don't wanna go to your house, I don't wanna go anywhere! I'm fine here."

- "But honey bunny..."

- "Stop calling me that!! I hate it!! It's a stupid nickname! I'm not your fucking honey bunny!!"

I paused the video, 'cos I couldn't take it anymore. That wasn't me. I couldn't believe I had said all those things to her. It hurt (Y/N), so I could get drugs.

I covered my face with my hands and cried. I was done. Not only did I not know how to recover from my drug addiction, but I also didn't know how I could ever look at my best friend again in the eyes after what I had done.

I remembered she had cried, and I knew I had been mean. But when I saw the extreme hate in each one of my words, I knew I had reached rock bottom. I needed help.

After a few minutes, I pushed play again. I knew I needed to see the whole thing actually to understand what had happened.

- "Please, leave!!"

- "No! Spencer, I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong with you. I am worried."

- "There's nothing fucking wrong with me, (Y/N)! Don't you get it! I just don't wanna be with you!!"

- "Please... Spencer, no! What the hell are you doing?"

- "I asked you nicely, but you didn't leave. So now I won't be nice anymore. Get out!!"

I hit her. I pushed her. She was there to invite me for dinner, and I hurt her. Who was I? What kind of beast does such a thing to his best friend?

Who would do such a thing to the woman he loves.

I curled on the couch, crying. How could I let that happen? When did I turn into a downward version of myself? Ethan was right. I had been dumb enough to think I could control it when in reality, drugs were controlling me. I was losing who I was. I could lose my job. I was losing my friends.

I knew things had been hard for me growing up, but I had finally reached a point in my life where I was happy. I liked my life. I loved my job. For once, I had real friends, and I was making good, catching bad guys. I had actually fulfilled my dream to work at the BAU. So why was I wasting it all?

- "Spencer"- I heard (Y/N)'s voice at the end of the video and saw her face on the screen- "I am here if you need to talk. I'm not mad. I just wanna hug you. Please, call me. Let me help you."

But I couldn't do it. I couldn't talk to her after what had happened. I dragged her by the arm out of my apartment. I made her cry. I didn't deserve anything. I couldn't deal with reality and the consequences of the monster I had become into.

Sunday, March 4th. That was the day it all changed for good.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer didn't call. I wasn't surprised, though. I knew he would be affected by the video and probably felt like he didn't deserve my help. So I did what I knew Frank would say I shouldn't do. I put on my shoes and got ready to go to his apartment and pick him up. I was not going to leave him alone when I could see he was struggling to survive.

But when I opened my door, Spencer was sitting in the hall outside my apartment, hugging his legs, shaking. His eyes were puffy, and his lips were shattered. He looked at me, afraid I would be mad. But how could I? I just wanted to help him.

I kneeled in front of him and touched his hands. They were stone cold. His lips trembled as I looked into his eyes, and after a few seconds of hesitation, he finally threw his arms around me, crying.

- "It's ok, honey"- I whispered and felt his whole body shaking as he held me tight- "I've got you."

- "I'm sorry"- I mumbled, sobbing against my shoulder.

- "Shh, it's ok, it's ok"- I ran my fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek.

- "Please"- I had to bite my lips not to cry with him, but I knew I had to be strong for him- "Help me."

- "Always."

I poured two cups of tea on my kitchen island as I looked at Spencer eating a bowl of soup. He was swallowing it like he hadn't eaten in days, which was probably true. We had barely spoken in the last hour. He kept asking for forgiveness as I helped him walk into my apartment and sat with him on the couch. He held onto me like a castaway holds to whatever shipwrecks he finds to survive.

When I finally convinced him to eat something, he followed me to the kitchen and looked at me in silence as I cooked. I didn't know what to tell him, so I just did my best to stay calm. I knew what was happening next, and it wasn't going to be pretty. But I was ready to go through it with him.

- "Thank you"- he whispered and sighed as soon as he was finished.

- "Do you want some more?"- but he shook his head. I smiled at him and handed him his cup of herbal tea.

- "Cookies?"- he didn't answer. He just looked at me with those big puppy eyes and broke my heart.

- "I'm sorry"- he spoke so softly I almost didn't hear him.

- "Don't be."

- "I was a monster"- he stared at me, and I knew he was thinking I was never going to forgive him, when the truth was, I wasn't mad at him at all. I was just worried sick.

- "Are you ready to get better?"- I was afraid to ask, 'cos I was afraid he could change his mind. Still, I trusted the video had shaken him deeply enough to erase from his head any thought of relapsing.

- "Yes."

His answer was clear. Even when it was a whisper, there was no hesitation or no fear. Pure determination. It made me smile to hear him like that. And he smiled at me for a second, filling my heart with hope.

- "Ok, then this is what we are doing"- I walked to my desk and took a folder I had prepared for that day. I gave it to him, and he frowned, confused.

- "What is this?"

- "Our home detox plan. You and I are locked in this apartment for the next fifteen days."

Spencer looked at me, baffled. I just smiled and walked to the fridge to show him how prepared I was.

- "I got all the food we need, and the meds you might need, and a nurse that will come to visit daily to put an eye on you."

- "What? How? What about work?"

- "I'll talk to Hotch."

- "What are you gonna tell him?"

- "The truth"

I wasn't going to lie to my boss, not when he also knew what was happening with Reid.

- "Honey, he knows there's something wrong with you, and I'm sure he will understand our absence for two weeks. You and I have enough vacation days saved to cover that time. And you need it."

Spencer looked at me in silence. I couldn't read his face because his eyes hypnotized me. Even under those circumstances, his eyes were beautiful and sweet. Filled with hope.

- "Ok"- he nodded, and I hugged him right away.

- "I'm so proud of you, honey"- I whispered and caressed his hair for a second.- "Come on. We are doing one more thing before we start."

- "What?"

- "Cleaning your apartment."

I took Reid back to his place and got rid of the Dilaudid he had gotten that weekend: All of it. And the needles. I helped him clean because I didn't want him to find a messy apartment when he would get back there. Then, we packed a bag of clean clothes to take to my place. He looked weak but determined to change, which made me feel so relieved. My heart was joyful.

- "Do you have everything?"- I whispered and held his hand as he stood in the middle of the living room and took a look around- "Do you want to take some books?"- he didn't answer- "Spencer? are you ok?"

- "I don't want to be a burden"- he whispered, and I took a deep breath right away, trying to find the right words to convince him he wasn't and that there was no way on earth he could ever be a burden in my life.

- "You are not, I swear"- he looked down and played with his fingers in my hand- "I mean it."

- "It's not going to be nice"

- "I know"

- "And..."

- "And I want to be there, with you, all along. Ok?"- he looked at me, and my heart skipped a beat.

- "(Y/N), withdrawal symptoms from opiates include anxiety, sweating, vomiting, and"- he cleared his throat, embarrassed- "And diarrhea."

- "I know... but we are going to go through this together, one day at the time."

Spencer kept his fingers in my hand, tracing paths on my skin. I looked at him and bit the inside of my cheeks. I didn't want him to doubt himself, 'cos I knew he could do it.

- "One day at the time sounds good"- he murmured and looked at me with a tiny smile. I nodded and kissed his cheek. I don't know why I did it. I just know how much I liked it. The sensation of his skin, and his two days beard, I don't know what it did to me. But I even shivered.

- "Let's go"- I whispered and held his hand tight. He nodded and grabbed his bag. It was about to get real.

The first night with Spencer was wild. He hadn't used it in over a day, and the withdrawal symptoms started around midnight. We were on the couch watching a movie. I was already half asleep when I felt Spencer constantly moving. He started biting his nails and scratching his face every two minutes.

- "Are you ok?"- I whispered and looked at him. He was pale.

- "I'm not gonna be able to do this."

- "Honey..."

- "No, I mean it."

- "You can, and you will."

- "How do you know? I was weak enough to start using."

- "You were forced to start using, and you are strong enough to stop"- I sat straight and held his hands. He was freezing- "What do you say we put you to bed? I'll make you a cup of tea, and we'll see how you feel in the morning."

He didn't move. I kept his hand in mine, and he held it tight. Real tight. I don't know what he was thinking about, but after a few seconds, he sighed and looked at me.

- "Bed and tea sounds nice,"- I nodded and stood up, but he didn't move- "(Y/N)?"

- "Yes?"

- "Where are you going to sleep?"

- "On the couch"- he sighed, and his face was filled with guilt.

- "I can't let you do that. This is your house."

- "Don't worry about that now. Come on. You need to rest"- I caressed his hand with my thumb, and he finally stood up. But halfway to the bedroom, he stopped.

- "I feel so guilty to put you through all this."

- "I want to do this"

- "But..."

- "No, but"- I turned to him and cupped his face with my hands- "I love you, and I'm not gonna leave you alone. No matter what."

My words resonated inside my head for a few seconds as I stared at him. My stomach was fluttering, and my heart was racing inside my chest.

That wasn't good. But I didn't have to overthink my feelings because my best friend needed me.

Reid walked to the bathroom and put on his pajamas while I made him a cup of warm tea. I knew what was coming: nausea, shivering, throwing up, stomach ache, and more. But I was ready. Two weeks and Spencer was going to be ok.

I had talked about my plan with Hotch earlier that day, and he agreed to give us two weeks off and cover us. Spencer was going to be in Vegas, 'cos his mother had had an episode, and I would be in New York, helping my brother on a case. Seemed convincing. Having the two of us out of town would stop any of our friends to stop by unannounced.

- "(Y/N), thank you for doing this for Reid"- Hotch said before hanging up. I felt lucky to have him as my unit chief. He surely cared for all of us. I don't think anyone else would have done the same.

Retchings from my bathroom were the first thing I heard as soon as I stepped into my room.

- "Honey, do you need help?"- but Reid didn't answer. So I ran back to the kitchen and got him a Gatorade from the fridge, set it on the nightstand. Then I ran to my closet and grabbed a clean towel.

I opened the bathroom door and found Reid kneeled by the toilet. He had already flushed but didn't stand up.

- "Here"- I dampened the towel and put it on his forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed- "Better?"

Spencer just nodded and stayed still for a moment. I took off his glasses and pulled his hair back carefully. He started retching a second later, and I rubbed his stomach, cooing him. When he was done, I flushed and helped him stand up. That wasn't it, and I knew it. He knew it too.

- "Did you know brushing your teeth right after throwing up damages your teeth?"- he whispered, making me smile. It felt good to know deep down, even under those shitty circumstances, he was still the same good old Reid.

- "So, mouthwash?"- I moved the bottle closer for him, and he just nodded- "I'll be outside."

Reid drank a little Gatorade and made a sad effort to read after getting into bed but fell asleep in less than five minutes. I took the glasses off (again) and took the book from his hands. My heart felt warm just to see him there, resting.

But that lasted less than half an hour. I stayed by Spencer's side to make sure he was ok. I was reading when he started retching again. I grabbed the bucket I had already set underneath the bed and rushed to help him. His stomach was already empty. He was basically just vomiting bile.

When he finally fell asleep again, he started shaking. I touched his hand, and he was freezing, so I took an extra blanket from the closet, placed it on top of him, and set the room's thermostats to make it a little warmer for him.

I stayed by his side, reading until he woke up again. This time, he was sweating. I took a clean pajama top from his bag and helped him change. Then, I took the dirty pajamas and the clothes he had worn that day and put them in the washer.

I sat next to Reid on the bed and looked at him. He was awake, rolling over and over, not able to stay still.

- "Come here"- I whispered and tapped on my lap- "Put your head here."

I thought he was going to argue, but no. Instead, he did as told with no hesitation as I ran my fingers through his hair slowly, scratching his scalp carefully. I felt how he inhaled deeply and relaxed, at least for a little while.

But it didn't last. And the rest of the night was a long loop of puke, shivers, and sweat. Spencer finally fell asleep for good around six in the morning, and I dragged my exhausted self to the couch. Night one was done. Nine more to go.

Spencer's point of view

My whole body ached. I opened my eyes, disoriented. All I knew was that I felt I had been beaten up, but I didn't recognize the room. I did recognize the smell on my pillow, though. It was (Y/N)'s. That's how I remembered what was going on.

Adding to how bad I felt, physically, I felt worst knowing everything that had happened the night before and in advance for everything I knew would happen that week. But even knowing that, and even when I was embarrassed to be a burden, I was glad to be there. I was happy to feel taken cared of and loved. It was a change I never imagined I could experience. The one who always took care of his mother now had someone who took care of him. It was under a miserable context, but I felt loved anyway.

Even when I was loved only as a friend.

I stood up slowly. I was fatigued, probably 'cos I had spent half of the night puking. I drank what was left of the Gatorade on the nightstand and walked to the living room. (Y/N) was asleep on the couch. My heart ached to think how uncomfortable she probably was while I slept on her queen-sized bed. No one had ever cared so much about me before. So I walked to the kitchen and made her breakfast. A classical Reid breakfast. Coffee, cereal, and milk. That was it. That was all I could cook.

- "Hey, what are you doing?"- (Y/N) appeared suddenly and smiled at me so sweetly, I nearly dropped the coffee pot.

- "I'm trying to make you breakfast"- I confessed and blushed- "And as you can see, I'm not much of a cooker."

- "You made coffee, you covered the most important part"- she held the cup I had filled for her and smiled- "What if you get comfy on the couch while I make you something to eat?"

- "I can't let you do everything, (Y/N)"- the way she looked at me, my heart skipped a beat.

- "I'll tell you what: If I ever get sick or hurt, or anything happens to me, you are going to be the one taking care of me. Ok?"- I nodded and stayed quiet- "Now, go to the couch. It's a lazy Monday."

- "What does that mean?"

- "We stay in our pajamas, watch movies, nap, and do nothing."

How could anyone say no to that?

I wasn't hungry at all, but (Y/N) really applied herself with everything she cooked: she made chocolate chips, hotcakes, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a smoothie, and also forced me to eat a bowl of fruit. She said I needed all the vitamins I could get, 'cos I had to get strong.

She sat next to me, ate the bowl of cereal I had prepared for her, and drank the coffee I had made. It was relaxing just staying there, covered with a blanket, watching Dr. Who. I felt my body losing up little by little. Until detox hit again. The light was bothering me, burning my eyes, and my body felt weak. Nauseous started kicking in, and before I knew it, I was throwing up on (Y/N)'s carpet.

She held a bucket in front of me and pressed a damped towel on the back of my neck.

- "Better?"- (Y/N) whispered and smiled at me. Her fingers tucked some of my hair behind my ears gently- "Do you want to lay down for a while? You are shaking."

I just nodded.

- "Ok, come on, let's go"- she held my arm and helped me stand up. She was right. I was shaking, but not just because I was cold. It was the withdrawal.

I was so embarrassed and mortified. With each symptom, I was a little more certain (Y/N) would never look at me the way I did. She would never fall for me after what she was witnessing. No one in their right mind would.

- "There you are"- she whispered, fixing the pillow behind my head as I laid on her bed again.

- "Can you please close the curtains?"- I whispered, covering my face with both hands. The light was too painful to deal with.

- "Sure, honey. Headache?"- all I could do was nod- "I'll get you ibuprofen, that will help with your body aches and the migraine."

I stayed still, eyes closed, hands covering my face, thinking how I had gotten to the point of having to detox my body from drugs. It was, without a doubt, the lowest moment of my whole life.

- "Ok, honey, try to get some rest, ok?"- (Y/N) whispered after I took the ibuprofen and drank half the bottle of water she had brought.

- "Can you..."- I studied because I was afraid to tell her I didn't want her to leave me alone. I was afraid to be on my own. I didn't trust myself or my mind.

- "What is it? Do you want another blanket?"

- "Can you stay with me?"- I finally asked and held her hand. She just nodded, smiling, and sat next to me on her bed, making sure I was comfy and cozy, fixing the pillow again and the blanket. I looked at her as she laid by my side on top of the covers and held her book.

- "I'm here, Spencer. And I'll be where when you wake up, ok?"

- "Can you read to me?"- I closed my eyes 'cos the light was killing me.

- "And your headache?"

- "Your voice is soothing, and it would help to concentrate on something else but the pain."

- "Ok... then prepare yourself for some horror, 'cos I'm reading, yet again, "Something wicked this way comes."

- "It's one of my favorites"- I whispered and sighed.

- "Why am I not surprised?"

I tried to fight the waves of nausea, the pain in every muscle and headache, and only focused on the sound of her voice as she read. It took me back to when I was a kid, and my mom would read me every night. (Y/N) kept caressing my hair and reading to me. It was the closest I had ever been to heaven, even when physically, I felt like dying.

When I woke up, (Y/N) was asleep by my side. I tried to move, but my body was limp. It was too painful for me to get up on my own, and all I could think of was one simple thing: Dilaudid. I was craving it. I would never feel so bad if I had a fix. Just a little one. To make the pain go away.

I was making excuses to justify my need for drugs. I wanted to feel better, 'cos right there, on (Y/N)'s bed, I felt dead already, and my whole body was rotting. I just wanted to get a little high. It wasn't going to hurt anyone. Right?

Wrong. The bruise on (Y/N)'s arm was the reality check I needed. I hurt her. I hit her. I pushed her away from me. That's how low I had gotten. I would not let that happen again, and more important than anything else: I was never going to hurt (Y/N), ever again. And that I swore to myself that day on her bed.

There was no use in denying the fact I was in love with my best friend. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me. And I knew I was going to love her forever, even when she would only be my friend. I didn't even know when I had fallen so hard in love with her. I tried to remember the moment my feelings had changed from friendship to love, but I couldn't find it. I just knew I loved her, and nothing was ever gonna change that.

The kind of love that makes you think you'd die for that person. I would die for her, just to make sure she is safe.

I felt so pathetic thinking those things. Not because I didn't want to feel that way, but because I knew (Y/N) would never look at me like that. But still, I'd give her everything she could ever ask me for.

I just laid by her side and looked at her as she slept. My eyes were finally able to slide on every detail of her face. Her freckles, her nose, the color of her lips that even without makeup looked like a cherry. And the bruise on her arm. I was never going to forget about it and neither forgive myself.

- "Hey"- she whispered, fluttering her eyes- "How are you feeling?"

- "Good"- I lied. I didn't want to tell her I felt like dying. She stayed still, looking at me for a few seconds.

- "Are you hungry?"- I shook my head, even that hurt- "How's the headache?"- my eyes were killing me.

- "Better"- she nodded and sighed.

- "I know you are full of shit, Spencer Walter Reid. You don't need to lie"- I just closed my eyes and refused to open them again for a few minutes.

- "I just don't want you to worry, (Y/N). That's all."

- "Do you want to sleep some more? I'm gonna go..."- but as soon as she moved, I stopped her.

- "No"- I looked at her and held her hand immediately. Every muscle in my body hurt with that movement, but I didn't regret it- "Please, don't leave."

- "Ok, I won't go. I promise"- she held my hand and caressed it slowly and smiled so sweetly, I think I even smiled back.

We laid in silence for a while. I closed my eyes again, trying to breathe normally. (Y/N) was lying next to me. That would get my heart racing in a second.

- "The nurse is coming around five. She will put an eye on you every day if you need any medical attention, ok?"- I hummed as a response and kept focused on her fingers playing with my hand- "Maybe we can ask her to help you take a bath."

I wide opened my eyes at those words and noticed how my best friend was blushing.

- "What?"- she chuckled at my reaction- "I can take a bath on my own!"

- "Really? You should consider it then"- she stuck out her tongue to me and giggled- "Though your two days beard is cute"- she ran her fingers along my jaw and sent shivers all over my body. The proximity felt so new, yet incredibly natural, almost familiar.

- "Thanks?"- I answered with a question 'cos I had no idea what else to do. I just stayed still and looked into her eyes. She didn't say another word either. Her eyes were following her fingers, playing with my jawbone slowly.

I wanted to move a little closer to her and hug her, maybe. But I couldn't. Not only because I physically couldn't move without crying, but because her phone rang and made her jump on the bed.

- "Hey! Paco, how are you?"- I heard her pick up the phone in the living room and walk back to me, holding another bottle of Gatorade.

- "No, I'm on a case. In New York. I don't know how long, I wish I could predict how long it's gonna take to catch a fucking serial killer, but I can't."

I looked at her as she walked around the room, talking with Frank. Of course, it was him. She always called him Paco. I slowly sat down on the bed and sighed. I was paranoid about the shower. Maybe I stank. I hadn't bathed since... Saturday. Obviously, I smelled terrible. I had been sweating all night long.

I made my best effort and walked to the bathroom. Everything hurt. When I finally managed to take off my pajamas and ran the shower, I was weary. But the warm water made me feel a lot better.

I took a long shower. Not just because I wanted to stay forever under the warm water, but because I couldn't really move that fast. I washed my hair and considered shaving. But I didn't have a razor on hand, and if (Y/N) liked my tiny beard, I decided to keep it.

- "Hey! everything ok?"- (Y/N) asked from the other side of the door.

- "Yes, I'm ok"- she walked in, and I froze.

- "Ok, I'll leave a clean towel next to the shower, ok? It's warm"

- "Thank you."

I stayed still under the water until she exited the bathroom and nearly held my breath at the thought of her being there with me. It was too much, and to be honest, I was too weak to overthink it. But I knew it was going to be a thought that would hunt me back home.

(Y/N)'s point of view

I sat on the couch and drank my tea after leaving the towel for Spencer in the bathroom. My heart was racing, and that shouldn't be happening. Why was I so affected by my best friend? I knew I was worried, and all my attention was focused on him, but that didn't explain why my stomach fluttered when I looked at him.

- "Put your shit together!!"- I yelled/whispered to myself and shook my head.

Frank had called to know about Spencer, but I had to lie and act like I was at work. I couldn't just tell him what was going on in front of Reid. So I texted him the short version of the fact, and he asked me to keep him posted. He also told me he was going to keep Mikey and Lu away from my apartment those days.

Spencer took a shower and sat with me on the couch. I had cleaned the vomit from the carpet and kept a bucket near in case he felt sick. We read in silence for a while, and I kept checking on him every few minutes. He was nervous and looked anxious. I wasn't going to ask him what was wrong, 'cos it was obvious he was craving Dilaudid, and to be honest, I was scared he might start yelling and getting violent. So, I stood up and prepared him a smoothie. I knew he hated healthy eating, especially salads, but he was doomed. He had to put some vitamins in his body.

He looked at me disgusted as I gave him the glass but drank it quietly and gave it back in a minute. I was impressed.

He threw it up in less than ten minutes, though. So far, not so good.

He also vomited lunch. I knew his whole body ached, so I put on a Star Trek DVD to keep his mind busy in anything else. When the nurse came, she did a brief check-up and told me to continue with the same diet and ibuprofen in case of severe pain. We had to put an eye on dehydration. She also suggested we'd engage in some physical activity as soon as he felt better. Walks to the park were her recommendation.

I couldn't imagine Spencer walking out of the house under those conditions, but I had high hopes by the end of that week, he was going to feel much better.

The second night was worse than the first because his body aches hit him harder. He rolled in bed in pain, shivering. I stayed with him until late, trying to soothe him. I read and caressed his sweated hair. At a certain point, I just sat there with his head on my legs, and he started crying. His tears soaking my legs and his sobs breaking my heart.

I didn't know what to say. I don't know if there was anything to be said at that moment. So I just leaned in and kissed Spencer's temple. I rocked him like a baby and did my best to calm him down. He just kept crying on and on, tearing my soul apart. I couldn't handle watching him like that. I didn't know what to do to help him feel better too. All I could do was be with him throughout the process and hold him tight to make sure I kept all his pieces together. I didn't want him to fall apart.

When I opened my eyes the following day, Spencer was asleep in front of me. He was pale, and the rings under his eyes were darker than ever. But at least, he was finally sleeping.

I stared at him for a few minutes, planning the day. But soon, I realized I couldn't concentrate. I just looked at him. I knew my friend was handsome, even when he always argued when I let him know. But at that moment, he made my heart beat faster. His hair was messy and with some curls. His brown beard kept growing. I had never seen Spencer with facial hair, and I loved it. I wanted to tell him to keep it, but then I thought it might be inappropriate. Not that telling him was wrong, but what he was making me feel.

I refused to think I had a crush on my friend. Because I didn't. I was just worried sick for him, and my head was confused. It wasn't the time to think about that. I had to be a good friend and help Reid. His wellbeing was all that mattered to me.

So I got out of bed and ran to the kitchen to make sure everything was ready. I cooked breakfast and lunch, cleaned, and took a quick shower. I was walking out of the bathroom in my clean clothes when Spencer woke up. He rolled in bed and looked at me, confused.

- "Hey, how are you feeling, honey?"- I whispered and sat next to him on the bed. He yawned and nodded.

- "Better."

- "Great, I hope you are hungry, 'cos breakfast is ready"- he scratched his head and yawned again. And I swear, I had to mentally slap myself because I thought he looked adorable and couldn't stop staring.

- "Do you want to take a shower?"- I asked him and stood up. I had to do anything to keep me from being stupid- "I can also run you a bath. I got some salts that could make you feel better. They might help with your body ache."

- "Thank you"- he whispered and sat down. He just looked at me in silence as I kept myself busy opening curtains, folding blankets, and cleaning the bathroom, to get it ready for him

- "Did you sleep?"- he asked me suddenly- "You look tired."

- "Nah, I'm ok. I think I went too heavy on the coffee earlier."

- "How long have you been up?"- I looked at my wristwatch and sighed.

- "A couple of hours."

It was ten. I got up at eight. Spencer had finally fallen asleep at five. It didn't take a genius to see I hadn't slept properly.

- "Why don't you nap?"- he asked and tapped on the bed- "You look like you could use some more sleep"- that was tempting, I won't deny it. But no. I couldn't.

- "Tell you what, why don't you eat something and then we can watch a movie together?"- Spencer nodded and moved slowly. That's when I remembered he felt like shit.

- "Come here"- I stood by his side and held his hands- "Can you stand up?"

- "Yes"- he whispered and tried to move on his own. His legs were shaking, and so were his hands. He did his best to stand up, and after a few tries on his own, he succeeded. But after giving two steps alone, he stumbled and nearly fell.

- "I've got you!"- I said, wrapping my arms around him and keeping him steady. His whole face was red, in anger maybe, or embarrassment. I didn't want to push him to talk or do anything. I just made sure he wouldn't fall.

- "Wanna stay in bed?"- I suggested

- "No"- he murmured and took a step ahead

- "Ok, let's go to the living room then."

Spencer didn't reply. I was sure he was ashamed and upset. I just walked with him to the living room, trying to think of anything else: anything but the butterflies in my stomach.

It was getting harder to ignore the mental fuzziness I felt each time I looked at him. But I refused to think about it. It wasn't the right time.

But it got worse that evening.

We spent the whole day on my sofa, napping, reading, and watching Star Trek. I was getting dinner ready when Spencer's phone rang. We both stayed still. He looked at me with widened eyes, almost scared. I smiled and walked to my room to get the phone. It was JJ.

I'm not proud to say it, but an overwhelming sensation of insecurity and concern filled my body. Why was JJ calling Spencer? Were they closer than I thought? I don't know why I kept thinking all those things.

- "It's JJ"- I announced and gave him his phone. He hesitated for a moment and finally picked up. I walked back to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. What was wrong with me?

- "Mom is fine, thank you for calling"- I heard him say and closed my eyes. I had to focus on the food. I had to focus on helping him get better.

Why was I so upset JJ had called him? It was nice to know more people cared about him. Not as much as I did, of course.

- "Sure, I tell her. I'll see you in a couple of days"

I walked back to the living room carrying a tray with soup and salads. Spencer sat down properly and looked at me with a small smile.

- "I know you hate veggies, but you are doomed"- I whispered, reading his mind- "These are packed with all the vitamins and minerals your body needs."

- "Thank you"- he murmured and kept his eyes on me until I sat next to him and grabbed my bowl.

- "How was JJ?"- I had to ask. He cleared his throat and played with the lettuce on his dish for a moment before saying.

- "She was ok. She wanted to know if everything was ok with my mom."

- "Oh"- I didn't know what else to say. I tried no to think about it anymore, 'cos it was useless.

- "I kind of felt bad everybody swallowed our story"- Spencer confessed and sighed.

- "That's because I make up the best lies, honey,"- I smiled at him, but he just stared- "Everything ok?"

- "I'm not hungry"

- "Come on, at least have the soup, please?"

- "I don't want to barf all over your carpet, again"- he whispered and kept playing with the lettuce.

- "What if I tell you I made brownies? and you can have a brownie if you eat the soup?"- Spencer bit his lips and shook his head.

- "Why are you treating me like a kid?"

- "I am not! I'm blackmailing you with sugar as I would do under any other circumstance."-

And I wasn't lying. I would definitely try to force him to eat or do something with the promise of a brownie.

- "So? What do you say? Eat that soup, and we'll have brownies... with vanilla ice cream."

Reid stared into my eyes, and I held my breath. He was so pale, so thin. And yet, so beautiful.

- "If I vomit..."

- "If you vomit, you vomit. No hard feelings"- I smiled and tapped on his leg- "Besides, you need to get some vitamins in your body. You are too thin."

He didn't reply. He started eating slowly and kept watching Star Trek in silence.

Spencer successfully ate his bowl of soup and ate a little bit of the salad. I knew he hates veggies, so I didn't push him. As a reward, I prepared a big tray with brownies with ice cream, chocolate sauce, and hot chocolate with marshmallows and put it on the coffee table in front of us. We were about to start eating when we heard a knock on the door.

- "That's the nurse"- I said and stood up quickly. But I was wrong. It was Paul.

- "Babe... hey"- he smiled at me as soon as I opened the door and tried to walk in. But I didn't let him.

- "What are you doing here?"- I stood at the door and raised an eyebrow. I knew we didn't have a bad breakup, but after what he had said that night, I was afraid he might freak out to see Spencer in his pajamas watching tv on my couch.

- "I couldn't stop thinking about what happened the other night, and..."- he made a pause and looked inside- "What are you doing?"

- "I'm having dinner"

- "Alone?"- I didn't answer- "Can I come in?"

- "No"

- "Are you with someone? are you on a date?"- Paul pushed the door and stormed into my apartment. Reid turned around and looked at him, embarrassed.

- "What the fuck do you think you are doing? get out of my house!"- I grabbed my ex-boyfriend's sleeve and stopped him.

- "Hey, Paul"- Spencer waved from the couch, looking scared. His shoulders were tightened, and his eyes wide opened.

- "What is this nerd doing here?"- Paul turned to me, ignoring my friend.

- "What are you doing here? That's the question!"

- "I wanted to apologize for what happened the other day."

- "Well, sorry to crack the news, but if this is an apology, it sucks!"- I swear, I could feel my pulse speeding- "And there is nothing to talk or forgive, we broke up, and it was ok!"

- "Yeah, and now the nerd is here to make you feel better!"

- "You have no idea what you are talking about! And would appreciate it if you stop calling him that!!"- I freaked out and clenched my fist. I was going to lose it with him.

- "Good luck with the Ice Princess here!!"- Paul yelled at Reid- "If you are lucky, she is gonna hug you once!!"

- "Get out!"- I stood by the open door and slammed it as soon as he had left. My hands were shaking, my lips were quivering, and my eyes were tearing up.

- "Are you... are you ok?"- Spencer stood up and walked to me. He stumbled a little but managed to hold me. I didn't reply. I just broke into tears.

Why was I crying if I was glad I had broken up with Paul? Why was I so upset to see him at my house? Why was I shaking in anger?

Maybe I was just human, and I was tired of all the shit. Perhaps I was just sleepy or stressed with everything going on with Reid. Or the fact he kept thinking I had feelings for my best friend was too much for me.

Even the fact he called me "Ice Princess" hurt me. Yes, I wasn't a very physical person with him. But that was just because I wasn't in love with him.

For a few minutes, I just cried, soaking Spencer's pajamas as he held me tight, just like I had done for him the night before.

- "I'm sorry"- I whispered and sighed. I let him go and fixed my hair- "I shouldn't let Paul affect me so much, but I wasn't expecting to see him."

- "What happened?"- Spencer held my hand and took me to the couch with him. He handed me a dish with brownie and melted ice cream, and a spoon.

- "We broke up a few days ago."- my best friend looked at me in silence as his shaky thumb wiped off the tears on my cheeks.

- "I was actually planning dinner with the guys to give them the news, 'cos I knew they would like to celebrate... but that doesn't matter. You were right; I didn't love him. I don't know why I was still dating him."

- "I'm sorry"- he whispered and carefully wrapped me on a blanket.

- "Don't be. I really wanted to break up with him. I was just scared to lose who I used to be..."

- "You are never going to lose who you are, (Y/N)"- Spencer whispered and cut me a smile- "Frankie, Lu, and Mikey would never let that happen"- I sighed and nodded- "I won't let that happen either."

- "Thank you, honey"- I grabbed the spoon and took a big piece of brownie- "You know what bothers me? I don't know why I'm crying so much! I'm not sad! I'm angry!"

- "Actually, when you get mad, your body produces a flood of hormones that stimulate strong reactions in your body, like racing your heart and getting sweaty palms. In response to the elevated stress level, crying stimulates the release of oxytocin and prolactin. These two chemicals can bring your heart rate down and otherwise calm you after a stressful event."

- "Well, my fucking body makes me look weak and stupid!"

- "You could never look weak..."- Spencer hesitated for a second. It felt like he wanted to add something to those words but finally just stayed quiet.

- "Thank you, honey bunny. You are the best friend I could ever ask for."

- "Don't say that. You are the best friend I could have ever asked for."

We just stared for a few seconds. His eyes on mine, my hands still shaking, though I didn't know why.

It was a moment I knew I could never forget, 'cos it was the moment I first considered kissing Spencer.

It was a thought that only lasted for a second, but it was there. And like a seed planted on my brain, once I knew it was there, it could only grow and hunt me, like a ghost.

Spencer's point of view

My heart ached to see (Y/N) crying because of an asshole who never deserved her. And it also jumped of joy knowing she was no longer dating that jerk. I knew I could never make a move on her, but just to know she wasn't stuck with him made me happy.

But the fact she had gone through all that alone and didn't even talk about it for four days because she was too busy taking care of me made me feel awful. I didn't deserve any of that.

- "How are you feeling?"- she whispered and smiled at me after finishing her brownie- "Want me to heat your cocoa?"

- "I'm ok, thank you"

I stared at her in silence and decided to make the boldest move I have ever made with her, and opened my arm for her so that she could cuddle. She didn't hesitate and moved closer. I wrapped an arm around her, and her head rested on my chest. And trying not to make it look like a big deal, I also held her hand and caressed her skin, tracing random patterns on it.

- "I'm sorry for being such a bad friend"- I said and kissed the top of her head. I didn't plan it. I just did it. And it felt so good.

- "Don't say that."

- "I've been an asshole since Tobias."

- "You haven't... I mean, you have, but you had your reasons"- she made a pause and sighed. I knew something was bothering her, and I was hoping it wasn't our position because I loved how her warm body felt against mine.

- "Honey?"- she whispered, and I hummed as a response- "Would you call me a cold person?"

- "Never..."

- "I know I'm not a physical person, but..."

- "Me neither, and look at us"- I pointed out the obvious, and she softly giggled. He raised her head from my chest and turned to look at me. I swear all I could think of that minute was kissing her.

- "I am more loving with you than I ever was with Paul"- she confessed and sighed. Her eyes were sad. Clearly, what he had said to her had affected her more than she wanted to admit.

- "He didn't deserve it anyway"- she added and moved back to lay her head on my chest- "You do."

And after that, we just stayed like that, hugged on the couch, until the nurse knocked on the door.

- "You look much better"- I smiled at the nurse and nodded- "Still nauseous?"

- "Yes, but not as much as yesterday"- I whispered and looked at her, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm, right next to all the marks I left with the needles. I wanted to hide them from everyone, and I thanked (Y/N) wasn't in the room. Of all people, she was the one I didn't want to see those marks the most.

- "They are going to fade soon"- the nurse whispered. I wasn't too subtle with my reaction, I guess. I just nodded and looked away.

- "Your girlfriend is taking excellent care of you. You are a fortunate guy"- I'm sure I blushed and turned to her immediately.

- "She... she is... she is not my girlfriend"- I felt I needed to explain it, I don't know why.

- "Really?"- and the nurse seemed to be in shock- "She surely loves you."

- "She is my best friend"- I whispered and felt how my heart was nearly bursting inside my chest.

- "You are lucky to have her"- she added, and I agreed.

I knew I was lucky. Even when (Y/N) wasn't my girlfriend, I knew I had to be with her. Always.

After thirteen days of home detox, I was back to being my old self again. I felt happy, healthy, and strong. I don't think I had ever felt that good before.

I loved spending those days with (Y/N), and I was pretty bummed I had to go back to my apartment the next day. The fact I had lived with her for two weeks was incredible. I knew it all happened under dark and miserable circumstances, but it had been life-changing.

Now I knew everything I wanted to know about her to help me make her day better and all her little quirks. Her favorite brands of tea, her favorite snacks. How she liked to take the last cup of tea of the day in bed, reading. Her favorite bands. How she always cooked singing. She always slept on her left side. And how after all those days, we would be so comfortable together, we would cuddle naturally, even without asking.

I don't want to overreact, but it was pretty heavenly to me, like the sensation I felt with the romantic poems mom used to read to me when I was little. Just don't tell anyone I said that.

- "Ok, dinner is ready"- (Y/N) announced and took the lasagna from the oven. I held a bowl of salad and walked with her to the dining room.

- "What do you wanna drink?"

- "A glass of wine, you?"

- "Red or white?"- I asked her and walked back to the kitchen. I didn't even wait for her answer. I took the white and two glasses. She smiled and sat down.

- "This looks amazing, (Y/N)"- and I wasn't lying.

- "Wait until you see dessert, we have three colors of Jell-O"- the fact she knew I loved jello wasn't what got me. It was how happy she looked to spoil me with my favorite dessert.

- "Thank you for cooking all my favorite meals."

- "You are welcome, honey bunny"- I smiled at her and poured a glass of wine for her and one for me.

- "Can I ask you something?"- I whispered, and she nodded- "Why do you call me honey bunny?"- she looked from her dish and giggled.

- "It took you forever to ask."

- "Well... I didn't want you to think I didn't like it..."

- "You don't?"- I wide opened my eyes and shook my head frenetically.

- "No! I love it! I just... don't know... where does it come from? You said I gave you the "honey bunny" vibes, but... what does that mean?"- (Y/N) chewed her lasagna and looked at me.

- "Well, I always loved that nickname. I thought it was adorable and never used it on anyone because no one ever gave me that vibe. I had never met my honey bunny before."

"My Honey Bunny." That woman was killing me, and she had no idea.

- "And I took it from Pulp Fiction"- she finally confessed and waited for my reaction- "Have you seen it?"

- "No"- I admitted and shrugged.

- "Then we are watching it after dinner tonight"- (Y/N) decided, and I nodded- "You still don't give me a nickname, by the way."

She had no idea, but I had a list of nicknames for her. I had written all the cute names I wanted to call on a notebook I kept in my satchel. But I didn't dare. I could call her cute names in my head all the time, but never out loud.

- "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, by the way"- she added and kept eating.

- "I have never done it before"- I accepted, feeling embarrassed- "Sorry."

- "Why are you sorry?"

- "I don't want you to think I don't want to call you by a loving nickname. I just..."

- "Come on, how would you call me? Do I give you any nickname vibe?"- I chuckled, and she smiled childishly.

- "I really like the story behind "nugget." I think it's brilliant"- she shook her head, and her cheeks blushed- "But for you... I think I have three options."

- "So you've given it some thoughts!"- I nodded and took a sip of wine- "Let me hear them."

- "Well... after that case in Oregon when you got lost in the woods, I thought I could call you "chipmunk"- I confessed and watched her face light up.

- "I love that!"

- "Really?"- I chuckled and looked at her holding my breath- "Well... then I remembered how we became friends and your obsession with cupcakes, so I thought I could call you that."

- "I love that too!!"

- "And..."- since I was honest, I took it a little further- "After last Halloween, and all the carving we did, and our movie marathon, I thought "pumpkin" was pretty sweet too."

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at me, her cheeks blushing and her eyes shining.

- "They are all awesome, so you should use them all, and I can look for more nicknames for you"- I simply stared at her and felt how my heart melted.

- "Ok"- I whispered, and she raised an eyebrow playfully.

- "Ok, what?"

- "Ok... pumpkin"- I whispered and held my breath at the sound of those words leaving my lips.

She really didn't have a clue about what she did to me.

DIWK Taglist:

@all-tings-diego @big-galaxy-chaos @muffin-cup @shilohpug @eternalharry @tvandfanfic @archer561

Spencer taglist

@calm-and-doctor

General Taglist

@spenxerslut @ash19871962 @babebenhardy

–

Do you want to be on the taglist or ramble about this chapter with me? Just send me a message here.

Next update: May 19th, 2021

#Spencer Reid #Matthew Gray gubler #Criminal Minds #mgg #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #fluf #angst #Criminal Minds rewrite #babymetaldoll edits #babymetaldoll writes #DIWK #Spencer Reid x reader #matthew gray gubler

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takemyopenheart · 4 years ago

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Think of Me (Waiting series - part 2 of 3)

summary: There are thousands of miles between Ethan and Luz—which begs the question: does absence really make the heart grow fonder?

He feels his chest constrict at the fleeting thought of her, and he shuts his eyes to let the darkness encompass him. But he knows no amount of darkness can overshadow the light that seeps in when she crosses his mind. The past seven weeks have kept him preoccupied, which is exactly what he wanted. Fighting an epidemic was front and center in his mind, but that didn’t mean he was completely void of certain memories.

His body aches from standing long hours and attending to every last patient, and he remembers one instance in which she rubbed his shoulders one night after a long shift. She sat him down between her legs and used her magic touch to massage the ache away; it was unlike anything he’d experienced. He’d argue that any professional masseuse couldn’t hold a candle to Luz. How he would give anything to feel her intoxicatingly soothing caresses...

No. Snap out of it.

If anyone was there to physically slap the thoughts away, he would certainly allow it. Raking his hand through his hair, he bolts for the bathroom to splash cold water over his face. A chill runs through him as the coolness hits his face, and he slouches over, holding both sides of the sink as he takes in deep breaths. His shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and he looks up into the mirror.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than ever, his frown lines are deeper, his stubble has grown. It’s a reflection he’s grown accustomed to in the past month. He rarely wants to sleep, there’s no time for that when people need him. But it’s no wonder his colleagues forced him to take the day off. He finally realized they were right in that he needed to take a recess if he wanted to be in tip-top shape for the ongoing battle they were up against. Doctors need breaks too, he was just often too stubborn to recognize that.

He wonders if she knows where he is—if Naveen’s shared the news by now. If she’s thinking of him like he is thinking of her. Whether she hates him now for not saying goodbye.

This is the exact reason why he protested his colleagues’ advice; he’s become his own worst enemy. Any time he’s alone with his thoughts, there’s only one name, one face, and one voice that invades his mind.

No amount of distraction, time, or distance can erase the memories of her, and it’s a realization that scares him to death. He’s fallen—he’s fallen deep, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get out. He had to be honest with himself; the main reason he left had to do with her.

The loud groan that escapes him is the only sound in the room, and beyond, it seems. It’s been a quiet night for the most part. The droplets of water continue falling down his face, his now-dampened shirt, and onto the floor. He catches his reflection again; it’s a depressing sight. How pathetic has he become? His resolve comes back at once.

Of course he’ll get out of it. He won’t let anything—especially anyone—affect his psyche. Any intimate feelings are just neurochemical responses to heightened stress and frequent exposure to each other. It’s what he’s always told himself. It makes perfect sense.

Everything he’s been through with Luz, and how she got involved with Naveen’s case is further evidence that supports his theory. It’s no surprise they grew close. She was there during his worst...and never gave up on him. It’s not something he’s used to...she saw him for who he was...she got to know parts of him he never dared show anyone...and she accepted him...

He suddenly, and forcefully, grabs the towel beside him to dry himself and the small puddle that has formed by his feet. His knees ache as he bends down, but he ignores the pain. After shutting the bathroom light off, he sits on the edge of the bed again. The night is silent and still, it’s an atmosphere so foreign to him now. It’s been anything but silent from the moment he arrived in the Amazon and got ready to work.

The pen from the patient file he’d been working on lays next to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Another thought soon rushes its way into his head again, and without thinking twice, he grabs it and opens the drawer for the notebook inside.

He opens the notebook to an empty page. He slips his glasses on and fiddles with the pen, almost building up the courage for what he’s about to write. She’s waiting to hear from you...give her an explanation.

He shakes the uncertainty away and begins writing.

‘Dear Luz,

I know what you’re thinking. Why now? Why this way? What a coward. Even if you don’t think so, it’s the only word that adequately sums up how I’ve been feeling since I left. Nothing I say will ever be enough to eradicate the hurt I know I’ve caused you. And I will never forgive myself for that. I couldn’t face you. I’m used to running, but you know me well enough by now that you’ve probably already figured that out.

Without you, I don’t know where Naveen would be. Or where I would be. You were, no, you are nothing short of incredible. Naveen’s revitalized health is proof of the amazing doctor that you are. And that brings me to my next point.

I don’t regret what we had. I care about you, please don’t believe otherwise. Which is why we both know this can’t continue. We can’t let anything hinder your full potential. Your career is too important. You matter too much. I won’t be the burden that gets in the way of that. We need to restart. Perhaps I’m going about this the wrong way, but I just couldn’t say goodbye.

You deserve all the happiness in the world. I’m sorry that can’t be with me. I hope you understand. I never thought I’d meet someone like you, but I don’t deserve you. Someone who won’t run will be worthy of you. Thank you for all you’ve done, I won’t ever forget it. Continue being the amazing woman that you are. Thank you for the time we had. I’ll cherish it.’

His hand halts, and he rubs his stinging eyes. The words on the paper appear blurry, his eyes refusing to allow them to come into focus. He adjusts his glasses on again, and the first word his gaze lands on is ‘coward’. He lets out a humorless laugh. ‘Damn right I am’, he thinks to himself.

The word embodies him further as he suddenly tears the page out of the notebook and rips it in half, before haphazardly tossing the crumpled paper across the room.

‘And that’s all I’ll ever be.’

•

Nearly 5,000 miles away, Luz sits in the once-familiar living room. She turns to the smiling face beside her, taking in the smile she’s missed so much. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him. Too long, and she feels so much contentment being near him. Her heart is full; there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

This is what she needed. To move past everything she’s been through this past month. And to do that, there was no better place than California. The place she used to call home. And to surround herself with the people whom she’s missed beyond belief since moving to Boston.

He puts his arm around her just before the camera flashes. Their smiles are wide and sincere. It’s a perfect moment to capture the happy Beltrán reunion.

"Okay, ahora it’s our turn!" Elena Beltrán chirps before rushing over to sit in between her two kids. "Ven, mi amor. Siéntate con nosotros. (Come here, my love, and sit with us) We need a picture. All four of us," she calls out to her husband, Jorge.

He places the phone on the fireplace mantel and comes to sit on the couch for another impromptu picture. He sits next to his youngest, who’s come home for the weekend from Boston just to see them. He and his wife couldn’t contain their joy that she’d be visiting just before their son, Sebastián, was to move to Oregon. It meant they’d all be together—a rare occurrence since Luz moved to the East Coast.

The camera flashes again. Luz’s cheeks feel like they’re about ready to burst from the permanent smile that’s been planted on her face since the moment she rushed into her family’s arms.

They’re just glad to see her content. From what they understood, she had been going through some things in her personal life that she needed to get away from for a while. She was open with them regarding her involvement with her colleague and boss Ethan Ramsey. They were aware that they’d grown close while working on a case together.

For years, he was someone she admired. So much so, that his research was the reason she applied to medical school. Ethan had made an important impact on her life. She never divulged just how close they’d grown, but if he was the reason she needed to get away from Boston, they knew it had probably become a close relationship. They never judged her for it. She was a smart woman. But sometimes you can’t help what your heart feels.

"Now, you two kids prepare for a feast. Mami and I will be in the kitchen, you two just make yourselves comfortable," Jorge says as he and Elena make their way to the kitchen.

Luz makes to stand. "Dad, no way. I’m helping—"

"Mija, sit down. We got this. You just got home from a long flight. I won’t take no for an answer," he says sternly, but with a warm expression on his face.

She slumps down on the couch, watching her dad gesturing for her and Sebastián to stay put. She can’t help but smile at his insistence to take care of them. It’s always been this way when she and her brother are home.

Sebastián turns to her, grinning from ear to ear. "It’s good to see you, sis. I didn’t think we’d see you till December."

"I didn’t either. But, really, I’m just here to annoy you," she jokes, though the smile doesn’t fully reach her eyes. Bash knows his little sister is trying to distract herself from whatever went down between her and that Ramsey guy. He can’t help but feel some resentment toward him for breaking her heart.

"Want me to kick his ass?"

"No, Bash. I’m better, I promise. I just needed a little break." She sighs, though she quickly covers it and stands on her feet. "Come on, let’s sneak up on mami and papi!"

Sebastián watches her tiptoe her way toward the kitchen and lift a finger to her lips to keep him quiet. He huffs out a laugh and decides to follow her. This quickly takes them back to the time they would sneak around every Christmas night to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus.

Jorge and Elena are too preoccupied getting the champurrado just right to notice their two kids crouched down behind the island.

"I see you," Jorge calls out with a soft laugh and a shake of his head.

"Dammit," Luz mumbles.

"Not as stealthy as once before, sis." Sebastián chortles, and they spring up from behind their hiding place.

"Anyway, I thought I told you kids to stay away," Jorge reminds them.

"Well, I’m helping anyway. Bash can laze about, but I’m helping, whether you like it or not." Luz remains adamant and takes the spoon from her mom to begin stirring the champurrado.

"Mom, dad, why don’t Luz and I take over. You two go sit down this time—"

"Yeah, go make-out or something. We got this." Her lips curve into a beaming smile

Sebastián grimaces in disgust, and Elena and Jorge laugh to themselves before stepping aside to allow them space. He begins shooing them away. "Go, go. We won’t poison you, we promise. Or at least I won’t. Can’t say the same about Luz."

"Hey!" she retorts with a frown before playfully giving him a shove.

"We trust you kids," Elena says as they make their retreat. And with a tender smile, she stares back at the comforting scene of her two kids together under the same roof, bickering like old times.

"And don’t you forget it! Come on, Bash, help me with the lemon bars while I continue stirring this," Luz instructs, and they get to work.

Being in the kitchen she grew up in fills her heart with the joy she’s missed these past few weeks. She’ll open up to her family eventually, all she wants to do right now is focus on the here and now.

It’s true what they always say: there’s no place like home.

•

Thanks for reading! Ily💗

•

@openheartfanfics

#ethan ramsey #open heart #Ethan x Luz #old fic from deleted blog #ethan ramsey fanfiction

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romanceforransom · 4 years ago

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There was a writer!sander fic that i started a little while ago but didn’t know where to go with it. So, I decided to post it here 🤷‍♀️

I might continue it...? idk. but let me know what you think :)

I ran into my local bookshop, the bell notifying my entrance as I swung open the heavy wooden door.

I had made sure to set my alarm extra early for that morning, giving myself enough time to get there before I had to make my way to work. There was a book that I had been waiting what felt like years for, and I wanted to pick it up as soon as humanly possible.

“Has it come?” I asked excitedly, rushing over to the front desk and locking eyes with an amused Zoë

She was used to my erratic behaviour by now, becoming desensitised to my hyperactive persona that I don whenever a new book comes out.

Not that I do it with every book. Of course, I love most things that come out, burying my nose in anything that I possibly can. But nothing gets me quite as excited as the books by Earthling Oddity.

Nobody knew this unknown author’s real name, or what they looked like. The air of mystery obviously created a lot of hype, gaining them a lot of followers trying to crack the code and reveal the hidden identity. What really made them popular, though, was the magical way they created stories.

I was always completely enraptured by the words written on the pages. Becoming engrossed in the fictional world they created and riding out the waves of emotions that came with the storylines.

They had come out with a new book recently, a new addition to one of their series, and I had been patiently (except not really. Unless pacing up and down the flat and checking my phone constantly for updates was considered as being patient) for it to be delivered to my bookstore.

“It’s here” Zoë replied, sounding amused “I reserved one for you, even though I knew you would be the first one in here today”

She reached underneath the desk and produced the long-awaited book

I stared at it in awe, admiring the bright colours and detailed art on the front cover.

“Wow” I breathed out, smiling

“You looking forward to reading it?”

I tore my eyes away from the book and looked up at her, squinting my eyes slightly “Seriously? I have been counting down the days for this book! Of course, I’m looking forward to finally being one step closer to unravelling the mystery that lies between the pages…”

She chuckled as I lifted my hand to tenderly stroke the front cover “Should I leave you two alone?”

“No, that’s ok” I said, picking it up and placing it gently in my backpack “I have to get going anyway”

“Ok, well keep me updated on it!”

I walked backward towards the door, grinning “Hourly updates are a given”

***

“Why are you carrying your bag so carefully?” Jana asked me curiously as I got to work

I had placed it gently on the ground in the back room with my coat, not wanting to damage the valuable contents lying inside of it.

“Seriously Jana? It’s got the book that I’ve been waiting months for”

Realisation washed over her face. I had been talking her ear off about it for a number of shifts. The amount of information she had actually been listening to and retaining would forever be a mystery, but she let me talk all the time without much judgement so that was the main thing.

“Aah ok, that makes more sense”

I pulled my apron over my head “What did you think was in there?”

She shrugged as she went back to stacking food in the display case “Judging by the way you were handling it, I thought for sure there was a bomb in there”

I shook my head at her amusedly “So your co-worker has a bomb, and you don’t do a thing to stop it? The least you could have done was taken my bag”

“We have a full shift ahead of us, Robbe” she deadpanned “Excuse me for not having much pep right now. I want to move as little as possible and retain the small amount of energy I have stored. Wrestling a bomb from you would probably take everything I had”

“Oh, come on. Shifts here aren’t that bad”

She raised her eyebrows at me “Go out all night drinking before our next shift and then tell me that again”

We both worked at a coffee shop in town. I actually quite enjoyed it. Being able to chat with people and brighten their day with coffee and cakes was a nice feeling.

Of course, it wasn’t something I wanted to do forever. Film making was my passion, the thing that I aspired to do in the future. Maybe even make some adaptations of Earthling’s books. Who knows? But, for now at least, I had to make do with making drinks.

Unlike me, Jana really did not like her job. She liked interacting with the customers, being the social butterfly she is, but the part where she actually had to serve and clean was never really something she enjoyed doing.

If I got paid every time she moaned when cleaning down the tables, there would be no need for this job. I would be rolling in money. She always claimed that it was manual labour, and she was going to sue the company for it. It did make me wonder what she thought would happen when she signed up for the job, but I never dared ask as she was always in a mood. It was best not to make things worse and just nod along.

“So, that book you have” she said “That’s the one with the mystery author, right?”

I nodded “Yep, they use a pen name. Lots of people have obviously tried to step forward and claim to be the author but the real one has yet to be revealed. If they ever will be. Fame isn’t for everyone, so I wouldn’t blame them for keeping hidden and basking silently in the glory of their writing”

“Aren’t you curious about who it is?” she asked me

“Well, yeah” I replied “I have always wondered who it is. I would love to be able to properly give my gratitude to the person that created such wonderful books… but I wouldn’t go out of my way to try and drag someone into the spotlight that doesn’t want to be there”

Many people on the internet have been trying to do exactly that. I have never understood why. Sure, you want to be the one to solve this giant question. But if it involves having to invade someone’s private life and tear down all the security and boundaries, they have built around them in order to remain anonymous, why would you want to do that?

What does revealing a random stranger’s identity add to your life? Nothing. It wouldn’t make you best friends with this person. In fact, you would probably end up as public enemy number one. Snooping in other people’s business isn’t cute, it’s creepy. Especially when they go out of their way to hide it.

The customers began flooding in. People coming in for their takeaway cups of coffee to beat away the morning tiredness. Monday’s were always especially bad. The weekend always wipes people out. Combining that with five days left of work looming over their head, a constant reminder of the seemingly never-ending week ahead of them, anyone would be exhausted.

Then, after a while, I spotted a familiar head of bleach blonde head of hair among the crowd out the corner of my eye.

“Robbe” I heard Jana hiss beside me as I continued making drinks for the awaiting customers “He’s here!”

Sander was a regular at the shop. He would always come in with an easy smile on his face and instantly brighten my day.

He was one of the most beautiful people I had ever laid my eyes on. Not only that, but he was also incredibly kind. Always dishing out compliments and making conversation with us while he patiently waited for his order. He has even defended us a couple of times when customers have been rowdy and impatient during the rush hours. Sander was just an all-round saint.

Jana knew that I had a small crush on him. I never told her outright, but she saw the way my face lit up whenever he was around and joined the dots herself.

I waited until he got to the front of the line and greeted him with a shy smile, trying not to blush like I normally did

“Hey, Robbe!” he said, grinning “How are you this morning?”

“I’m good” I squeaked “Will it be your usual, today?”

Ok, so maybe small crush was a bit of an understatement. He always seemed to make me tongue tied and act like a complete idiot. Which was a great way to act in front of someone you want to impress.

He nodded “You know me so well. Either that or I am in here too often”

“Nonsense!” Jana called to him “We love having you in here, Sander… some more than others” she muttered under breath, meaning only for me to hear it

As I was making his drink (a chocolate mocha – which was basically just a fancy coffee with chocolate, always with whipped cream on top) he leaned against the counter, making light conversation with Jana and me. He never seemed aware that we were at work and that he might be holding up the queue. Not that there were many of them at that moment. He had come just at the right time, most of the people filing out and going to their jobs.

“So, did that book come that you were talking about?” he asked me

“Um, yeah” I was surprised he remembered. I had made an offhand remark about it a few weeks back. But then, he always did seem to pick up on small details like that often “I got it this morning before I came to work. The first thing I’m going to do when I get out of here is run home to read it”

“Really?” he said, sounding faintly surprised “You are that eager to read it?”

I turned towards him, placing the steaming cup of coffee on the tray next to the croissant Jana got for him.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for it for so long… it takes priority over everything else as far as I’m concerned”

“You know Robbe” Jana said teasingly from beside me, jabbing me lightly in the side “forever a bookworm”

Sander smiled as he picked up the tray from the counter “When I come back, you’ll have to tell me how you’re finding it”

Just as I was about to reply, Jana jumped in “He’ll only have good things to say. He’s obsessed with this author, won’t shut up about them. It’s kind of annoying actually”

He smirked “Maybe I’ll have to check them out”

“You should!” I told him enthusiastically “Their works are amazing. Even if you aren’t really into reading, this person can have you drawn in with just a page of their writing”

“I don’t doubt that, I’m sure you have impeccable taste” Sander said, winking at me

He often did that but even after weeks of seeing it, I was still blown away each time. He always seemed to take my breath away without even trying.

Sander made his way over to a table, placing his tray down and taking out his small black notebook as normal. It was his daily routine and moved like clockwork every time. I don’t think there has been a single day he has come in when he hasn’t been scribbling away dedicatedly in there, pen moving furiously across the paper.

I was always curious about what he was doing in it, but never dared ask. It could be something deeply personal and private, I wouldn’t want to invade his comfort zone like that.

He was in his own world when he wrote. As soon as the book was opened it was like a protective bubble opened up around him, blocking out anyone and everything from his work. If we wanted to ask if he wanted a refill or anything else to eat, it would take a few tries to get his attention. Sander manages to block it out so easily.

Although it was a similar thing when I read. It was like escaping to another realm where nobody could reach you. Like a haven that you could take shelter in and escape from all your problems, if only for a short amount of time.

#wtfock #wtfam #wtfock fanfic #fanfic

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

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hey steph! how long would you say you spent on sorting out fic recs and tagging them and all that stuff? just curious because i really wanna start a fic rec blog too

Hey Nonny!

UGGGHHHH Tumblr deleted my entire response, so I’m going to just jot out what I remember.

Depending upon how long you’re willing to spend, a LONG time. You guys have NO idea how much work it is, and how much off-tumblr time I spend doing it. When I keep saying “it’s a full time job” it really is. The blogging you guys actually see takes about 2 hours, from filing my blog to answering a few asks here and there, but the rest is ALL filing my fics and creating lists.

Now, mine is “perfected to my liking” after two years of trial and error and headaches, but yeah, if you’re serious about becoming strictly a fic rec blog, prepare to put in a lot of time and effort. BUT to be fair, I’m ridiculous in my sorting and organizing... I have a weird OCD thing where I need stuff sorted in a certain way, and it takes longer than it probably should. But it works for me and it has become very streamlined now that almost all of my Ao3 bookmarks are finally sorted. In the beginning, when I decided I would start reccing fics, it was only meant to be a here and there thing, but then people kept coming to me more and more and that’s when I decided I needed to keep an offline list. So here’s some tips from me to you:

Keep offline lists. Tumblr fucks up enough that you WILL lose interest in redoing a big 50-fic list if tumblr decides that nope, today I don’t feel like posting your file because you didn’t refresh your page BEFORE typing it out.

Going along with the above, keep an offline masterlist of your read-and-tagged fics. All the recs I give you guys? They’re all on one of three list masterlists I have offline: GO Recs, FFNet Recs, and Ao3 Recs. This will be SO much easier for searching for topics when making new lists.

Do the lists WAY ahead of time. This has given me back many-a-Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday nights because I prep my lists ahead of time.

Develop the “public” system of filing for your things, and use that for your Masterlist, so you don’t have to redo it every time (so like don’t have just Ficname by author if that’s not what you want to do for your recs). For example, my system is this, emphasis included: Fic Name by Author (Rating, wordcount, Chapter count || WIP/AU if applicable || PODFIC LINK if applicable || list of personal and/or author tags here, even if they spoil the story; i’ve found some people with triggers appreciate that I tag EVERYTHING I find in the stories) – Author’s description or personal description if there isn’t one. Series link if it’s part of one. This way, all I have to do is copy-paste it into new documents for each list, and then copy-paste the whole list into the Tumblr doc.

Also, re: the above, do the layout in Tumblr if you’re doing a Tumblr rec blog. It keeps the formatting consistent and I don’t have to fix it between Ao3 and FFnet if I just copy-paste everything into a blank Tumblr doc, and then copy paste THAT onto the masterlist. Trust me on this one.

Draft everything. This goes along with all the above. I always “start” a list and put a big header so that I can find it in my drafts (that’s why they have the big bold H1 headers on them) and then hit “draft”. Then keep a list of your drafted fics in your preferred method of organization. I keep everything in Text Edit RTF files. I believe Alexx told me once she did spreadsheets. Either way, develop a system BEFORE jumping into this thing, because you will EASILY get overwhelmed if you aren’t used to high-stress levels.

Tag fics as you read them. Trust me on this one. Because it will save you MONTHS of re-reading every single bookmark so you can properly file fics. I do this on my Notes App with the story title, and then all the tags I know are popular requests or are for lists I know Nonnies have asked for.

Keep CONSISTENT in your tags. Don’t tag one thing O!verse but another Omegaverse. I had to redo a lot of my older tags because CMD+F was pointless on a document I purposely made to streamline the process.

USE Ao3′s TAGGING FEATURE for your bookmarks. Just make sure that if any of your tags are spoilerific, make sure you keep the rec private.

File EVERYTHING as soon as you bookmark it. It will save you a LOT of hours of going through all your recent bookmarks to file them.

That said, HAVE A FILING SYSTEM if you’re keeping everything offline. Keep separate documents for each list... Trust me on this. I used to just have one document each for Fluff fics, for example, and put subheaders in them, and it just got messy and annoying as my fic reccing became more common and plentiful. Instead, have a nice list like this, for instance:

The grey dots next to some of them are old filing methods that I need to fix and pull out. Also, as you can see, every time I finish a list, I file it into Posted and start a new list appended with a Pt number. It just keeps the system moving smoothly. I also have a system for the coloured dots; Grey is Old and refile, Orange is drafted on Tumblr, and Orange and Green means it’s drafted and ready-to-post.

I also have an offline “drafted posts document”:

That also has a system as you can see, but it keeps me knowing what I’ve already got drafted on Tumblr if I forget to tag the files with the colour dots.

It looks tedious and complicated, but I promise you, it’s really simple once you’re familiar with my method. Which is why I’m saying, you need to develop this kind of system REALLY early rather than 2 years later like I did. This drafted posts list is only recent as of... February I believe is when I started it.

Hmmm. Ah, yeah, so you can see it’s a lot of work, and this is why I absolutely dislike HateAnons negatively criticizing my lists, because it IS a lot of MY free time, between 8 and 48 hours a week. But if you truly enjoy sorting and organizing like I do, it’s a bit easier to cope with. So, yeah, whenever I tell you guys “I need some time away” this is why, and usually I switch to playing video games or doing art, both of which I miss doing on the weekends. I’m trying to keep the Tumblr stuff to mostly Weeknights these days, so that it’s an extension of my day job. Funny how I have less free time working at home than I did when I wasn’t; because I feel obligated to always be on my computer now, and I hate that. Like right now, I just bought 2 new games to play and I haven’t tried them yet because I’m always working both day-job stuff AND Tumblr stuff on weekends.

So yes, that’s another tip: Don’t let it consume you, and set a schedule. Don’t feel obligated to answer every request. When I am tired and I just genuinely don’t have the energy to dig through 1000+ fics to find 2 or three for an obscure ask, I usually make it an interactive ask – not only does it encourage community involvement and a sense of belonging for everyone, but I also discover new fics to read too! I am IMMENSELY proud and happy that my fic lists have essentially become “fic exchange” grounds. Before it was only on one or two lists, some timid new authors added their fics to my big lists, but now, since people SEE that I add their fics hidden in the notes to the main post, now everyone is happy to share their faves on the main lists AS WELL AS the smaller single asks. I like to think of myself of a “curator of happy things” so that’s what I like to do with these.

That said, you have to also decide if you’re going to be this interactive as well. Because that adds an ADDITIONAL hour or so as you make a separate “MFL” document and file those too. It’s time consuming, but totally worth it because if I’ve read the fic, all I have to do to that post in my MFL list is add my tags and file that block of text :)

I hope I helped you out a bit, Nonny, and I hope you guys enjoyed seeing a bit of my process. If I can get OBS to work on my laptop, maybe I’ll do a short video so you guys can see me doing it live.

Anyway, sorry this got long. :P

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #about me #my blog #tutorials #my advice

166 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

Note

Peter and MJ, coworkers who barely know each other's names, but could draw each other's faces from memory, get stuck in the elevator together at the end of a work day

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I started writing the fic for this so fast haha

Overheard at the Bugle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: M Word count: 5394

Summary:

Peter's having a late night at the office and finds out he's not the only one working overtime right before he and the new reporter, Michelle Jones, get trapped in the Bugle's unreliable elevator. He just needs to handle this situation calmly and not do anything to give away his secret identity. It'd be easier to focus on the task at hand if his enhanced hearing wasn't picking up something very unusual coming from the voice recorder in Michelle's bag.

Peter tries to keep a low profile at the Bugle―he doesn’t need anyone giving a second thought to the guy who turns in crisp closeups of Spider-Man week after week―but he didn’t realize he’s invisible. He’s gotta be for the custodial staff to start shutting the lights off on his floor as he’s still sifting blearily through the emails that arrive every five minutes; they’re all stamped with Sent from J. Jonah Jameson’s iPhone. Almost in the dark, Peter snaps his laptop shut, shoves it into his messenger bag, and sprints for the elevators. He’s not scared of the dark (what kinda hero would that make him?), but after lights-out comes locking the doors and he’s not keen on spending the night here. Though his apartment might not be much, it’s his escape from work.

He skids around the corner to find the glow of an elevator that’s just closing.

“Hold it!” Peter shouts, shooting his hand out to part the doors as a frantic tapping comes from inside.

“I was pushing the button…” a woman explains as he steps in.

She turns her head and a spill of wavy brown hair is pushed aside to reveal the face of Michelle Jones. Peter swallows. His gaze goes from her startled brown eyes to her finger, now slipping off the Doors Open button.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “this thing can be temperamental sometimes.”

“Right. Ground floor, I assume?”

“Yep.”

He moves off to a respectful distance as she presses the button to take them down and the doors close. His heart’s hammering. Though he’s heard the confident tone of her voice plenty, she’s never specifically spoken to him. Nor he to her. Luckily, the walls of the elevator have an intentional burnish with the scuff of wear on top, so there’s no chance of her catching sight of his stare in their reflections. Peter doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she took her hair down. She mostly wears it twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck and probably just shook it out when she got into the elevator, heading home. He gets it. He has his tie jammed into his bag, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. Nobody gives a shit about dress code after the boss is gone, especially if they’re working late with no guarantee of overtime pay. Quit looking at her, he thinks, and snaps his gaze down to the floor. He can still smell her shampoo, courtesy of the enhanced senses.

“Sorry about the lights,” Michelle offers, turning her head enough to address him, but not enough to meet his eye because he’s standing beside and slightly behind her. “I let one of the custodians know I was on my way out a few minutes ago. Thought I was the last one left.”

Peter frowns. That’s weird. Not what she says, but that, when she speaks, he thinks he hears an echo. My one-on-one exclusive with Spider-Man, it says, in the voice of the reporter currently sharing the elevator with him. He opens his mouth to ask Michelle if she hears it too and catches himself. That’s a habit he broke years ago, when he realized there are way more things other people can’t hear and it only risks freaking them out and exposing himself to reveal that his senses are more animal than human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds distractedly.

The first thing to know about Spider-Man is that he’s not a nine-to-five kinda guy. Without regular business hours, he joins me for this interview in my Brooklyn apartment on a Friday evening. The red suit is predictable; the rap he gives my living room window to announce his arrival smacks more of cheeky showmanship. This reporter has to wonder whether, for him, finally submitting to such an in-depth, sit-down conversation is a type of performance. Surely the man behind the mask knows his audience is rapt for any details on the life of a figure who, despite his status as a trusted friend to all, is so much a mystery to this city’s inhabitants.

Ok, what? Peter’s brain is spinning like a frisbee. He’s never given the kind of interview Michelle’s disembodied voice is describing, and definitely never given it to her. He’s never been to her apartment, doesn’t even know where she lives, and certainly isn’t eager to invite questions in some sort of exposé. Maybe what he’s hearing are just the notes she’s preparing for a future interview. Did Jameson assign this? He’s certainly nosy about Peter’s alter ego, but the tone of the piece is more curious than their boss’s usual style―scathing, obstinate, malicious. She sounds intrigued by Spider-Man, not like she’s luring him into a trap.

The elevator jolts. It grinds. It halts. Michelle makes a sound of distress and taps Doors Open. She looks at him over her shoulder, face worried but also… flushed? Maybe she gets anxiety attacks.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells her, one foot in Spider-Man’s De-escalation Mode. He raises his hands in hopefully a calming gesture and her eyes dart to them, gliding over his bare forearms. Crap, does he seem threatening? He lowers his hands.

“I know it’s alright,” she assures him. “I just… who wants to be stuck at work?”

Michelle gives him a slight smile to accompany her joke and he returns it.

“Got a story to work on?” Peter asks.

His motive is partly to understand the narration he heard (which is still going on, a murmur beneath their much louder voices), but also to focus her on something besides the fact that the elevator is not moving.

“Just filed one actually, so, you know, theoretically free for the weekend.” She makes a phonily excited face that emphasizes how very not-free they are.

The continued jokes are a good sign that she isn’t overly alarmed. He’s still stumped about the story though. As she pulls her cell phone from the large leather bag over her arm, Peter tunes into the background noise. With the elevator silent, that’s just the recording of Michelle’s voice.

‘…later than I thought you would be,’ I inform him. He makes his excuses and where I would normally be annoyed by a failure to be punctual, I find myself charmed by New York’s man in red. I wonder where his adventures have taken him tonight, if his actions have prevented violence, saved lives. If his mere presence has inspired onlookers and comforted those who have lost faith in our traditional systems of stagnant courts and killer cops…

There’s no way Jameson can be aware of the spin she’s putting on this. Spider-Man’s no hero in the eyes of the editor-in-chief, just a menace, a pest, a cockroach climbing up the pantleg of the people who are supposed to enforce justice. That’s not the only thing that’s confusing. Peter’s fairly hung up on the fact that she’s conducting this interview like he’s there. Could just be her process. Playing the whole thing out to get a feel for however long it might be, where small talk might hypothetically cut into her list of prepared questions.

“No service,” Michelle huffs, tucking her phone away again. “You?”

Peter, startled, gets his phone out to check, though he already knows this elevator is a dead zone. He shakes his head. Frustrated, she moves her hand to jab the Help button. The one meant to connect the rider with 911.

“Don’t bother,” he coaches when she pushes it a second time after nothing happens. “I think that thing’s just for show.”

“Oh yeah?”

She’s arch, irritated. Peter stays calm, knowing it’s not really meant for him. People can get testy in stressful situations. Being trapped in an elevator is one of those. Not for him. For him, a stressful situation is a bullet graze or leaping from one office tower to the next and realizing in midair that he’s out of webs. Trapped in an elevator is a relaxing start to his weekend in comparison.

“Jameson never lets anybody inspect it. He’s a control freak, scared of spies. He thinks somebody’s gonna bug the elevator,” he clarifies to Michelle’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, have you met him?”

She exhales a laugh at that.

…invite him to get comfortable, I’m surprised at him choosing a seat at the opposite end of the couch I’ve just sat down on. I’d intended the chair across from me and think that should be obvious to him. Perhaps it is. The mask doesn’t make him the easiest man to read.

“So we’re just fucking stuck because Jameson’s scared of, who? Reporters from other papers? The CIA? Edward Snowden?”

A tingle goes down Peter’s spine when she swears. She’s commanding. Does she know that or is working under Jameson putting her qualities in the shadow of his, wielded for domination and intimidation?

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he says.

“This button’s never worked?” Michelle checks, leaning her knuckle into it to keep it depressed. “This is a major safety issue. Imagine there was a fire right now.”

“You should call somebody and report him.”

He can’t help being playfully sarcastic and thinks, for a second, that she’s going to bite his head off for it by the way her eyes flash. Then he thinks he might not mind. Then she laughs and he tries to take a normal breath.

“What do we do?” she wants to know.

What do they do? What do Peter and the woman he’s eyed across the office since she arrived at the Bugle two months ago do? Forced together by unhealthy work hours and a broken elevator? He shifts from one foot to the other.

“Hope the custodian decides to watch for you to leave the building and comes looking when you don’t.”

“I hate that plan,” Michelle informs him.

“Go ahead and come up with another one,” he invites earnestly.

She turns so she’s facing him and lets her back slump against the wall of the elevator. She shrugs to ease her bag off her shoulder. The strap tugs a little at her emerald-green blouse before it slides down her arm. She sets it on the ground by her feet. It looks like she’s doing what he suggested. Now it’s just Peter and her quiet voice, which he can tell is coming from the bag. Michelle must have a recorder in there. Probably thinks she shut it off, but the volume’s just really low.

‘…when you’re out there?’ I have to inquire of him. At his easy laugh, I shelter behind my coffee cup, taking a slow sip. ‘Lonely?’ Spider-Man repeats. ‘In a city this size?’ He’s being coy now. I’m certain he knows what I want and it’s the dare implicit in this exchange that prompts me to press him. ‘Not lonely for just anybody,’ I begin…

Crossing his arms, Peter rests against the back of the elevator, trying to be subtle as he tips his head to the side to hear more. He’s getting into this story now, even if it’s not real. For the first time, he’s starting to see how Spider-Man might be a pretty compelling guy. He likes this person she seems to think he is; he’s more interesting coming from her lips. Of course, not as interesting as she is, with her leading questions and the agenda she’s voicing for her recorder if not for the man she’s interviewing.

“Have you worked at the Bugle long?”

His gaze twitches over to Michelle’s face when she speaks.

“Since right outta college. Why?”

“Just wondered if this had happened to you before,” she explains, waving her hand at the elevator’s useless panel of buttons. “And I knew you were here before me.”

“You did?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathlessly hopeful. Obviously, she knew he was here first. Michelle could’ve noticed him one time in the past two months and seen him do anything to indicate that he’d been here longer―escape Jameson’s office just before he could get roared at, jiggle the plug to make the coffee machine in the breakroom work. But Peter does sound that way because of her tone. She says it like an admission and she breaks eye contact.

‘…you don’t want one?’ He declined my offer of coffee once, but I think he may change his mind now that we’ve warmed up to each other a little. Spider-Man twists and I can feel him regarding me from behind those large white eyes. ‘I’d have to take the mask off to drink it,’ he points out. I promise that I’m not trying to blow his cover, just be hospitable. Besides, I counter, he doesn’t need to expose his whole face. The mouth will do.

“So, has it?” she counters, ignoring his question.

“Has what?”

“Has it happened to you? The elevator shutting down?”

“Oh, uh, once or twice, but it was always in the middle of the day and there were a bunch of other people in the elevator with me, so it didn’t go unnoticed long. Jameson hassled me for missing meetings while I was trapped though.”

“It’s not like you could help it,” Michelle says.

“True, but…” Peter shrugs. “I learned to take the stairs.”

“Bet you’re wishing you took them tonight.”

He laughs.

“Not really. I mean, uhhh…” The sound drags out embarrassingly as he can’t manage to pull his gaze away from her surprised face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, saving him. “I think you’re keeping me saner than I would be alone.”

Right. That’s all. Which is enough, really. He’s glad to be of service, especially if that service is helping her not totally lose it.

“No problem.”

‘…because I can do more good if I’m an anonymous symbol,’ Spider-Man tells me. His body language has changed, shifting forward with the urgency of his words. ‘But some people must know,’ I say. ‘Your real identity can’t be a secret from everyone.’ ‘No Spider-Man is an island?’ is his clever rejoinder. I agree with absolute sincerity. ‘Even the strongest person needs to let others get close to them,’ I insist. Where he’s tugged his mask up, his mouth shifts from a wry grin to thoughtful softness. I find my gaze lingering there.

“Any ideas?” Peter asks, feeling hot.

The temperature inside the elevator is moderate, but Michelle’s words, as she draws him deeper into her story, are making him surreptitiously flap his collar to encourage air down his shirt. He’s starting to feel like this is something he’s not supposed to hear. Alright, it’s likely that nobody was supposed to hear it if these are just her rough notes before composing an article. Whatever. What Peter’s realizing is that maybe nobody’s supposed to hear this interview ever. The questions are too personal, too human-interest for the kind of paper they work at, and the way she depicts her responses is… intimate. Full of sensory details. It’s as though he’s in this apartment with her, sipping at her coffee, staring at her down the length of the couch. A Friday night, her voice said, and tonight’s one of those. How would Michelle Jones feel if she knew she was spending an evening with Spider-Man right now?

“I think the custodians would’ve made some noise by now if they knew anybody was in here and if they haven’t realized we’re missing, then I’m not sure anyone else will. I don’t know about you, but I live alone. I probably won’t be missed tonight because my friends will just assume I’m working and turned my phone off. I’ve been considering,” she goes on, “that we’ll either have to climb out the top and hope we’re close to the doors aligning with one of the floors or get these doors open. Either way, we need something to open the doors. Personally, I didn’t pack my crowbar.”

Peter stares at her in awe for a minute. She really did come up with a plan. Several plans. He knows he can help―he doesn’t need a crowbar to part the metal doors―but he can’t just wrench the doors open with his bare hands and act like it’s no big deal. He’ll need an explanation, which can’t be the truth. Revealing himself at the Bugle? To a Bugle reporter? Seems like the worst possible scenario. He doesn’t think Michelle is anything like Jameson in her motivations or basic moral compass (fine, he doesn’t know her, but that’s the sense he gets), and yet, she works for him. It’s her job to give him something fresh, something captivating, and he’s just not sure that her fascination with Spider-Man would be enough to make her want to spare Peter Parker the nightmare of his identity being splashed across Monday’s front page.

“Me neither.”

“This isn’t sustainable,” she mutters. He looks at her with concern. Louder, she adds, “If I get restless enough to climb through the ceiling, promise you won’t look up my skirt when I ask you to give me a boost.”

“Promise.”

Michelle assesses his face and he tries to appear his most transparent and trustworthy. Gradually, her eyes move away from his, but he’s still watching her and sees her stare at his throat, then his chest, and down. Whoa, Peter tells himself. Not a good idea. This woman might be a little hung up on Spider-Man, maybe even has a crush, but you and him are two different people.

Meanwhile, on the recording: …switch it off for him, holding the voice recorder up so he can clearly see that I’ve done it. ‘There,’ I say, ‘no one’s listening now. It’s just you and I.’ ‘So I’m supposed to feel closer to you without it?’ Spider-Man asks. ‘Don’t you?’ is what I want to know.

“Screw it,” Michelle decides a minute later, standing up straight. “I’m getting us out of here. Can you pick me up?”

Peter drops his messenger bag in an instant.

“Yep.”

He watches while she kicks off her black patent high heels (maybe picturing her pressing one of those bad boys into his chest), then they both tip their heads back and examine the ceiling panels.

“Front corner, maybe?” she suggests. “Just so I’m as close as possible to where the doors will hopefully be and I don’t have to wobble around up there in the elevator shaft.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

They cross to the appropriate corner and he bends his knees, locking his fingers to offer her a step. She grabs his shoulder for balance and lifts her foot, about to place it in his braced hands, then pauses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.”

“Peter.”

“I know.”

He’s baffled and flushed as they shake hands, but he can’t dwell on it because her fingers are digging into his shoulder right before she presses her foot into his swiftly repositioned hands and hops up. She gives a small shriek as her body wavers before steadying herself with her palms against the ceiling. Peter drops his gaze. He can tell by her knees that she’s crouching slightly and he’s not glancing any higher than that. Her skirt falls to just below her knees and, as they lean into each other to keep her up, he ends up with her thigh pressed against the side of his face, the black fabric of that skirt under his cheek.

“You got me, right?”

“Right,” he says, careful not to ramble and divulge how little effort bearing her weight requires.

“Ok, I’m going to try to get a grip on this panel and slide it open.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter is looking straight across at the wall. He is not looking higher than her knees. He has no thoughts about the scent of her skirt and no theories on whether the lavender comes from her fabric softener or lotion that he’s also not imagining her rubbing into her skin before she got dressed for work this morning. She sways in his grip and he braces his arms more firmly, unable to do anything about her leg against his face. Michelle grunts and her body heaves as he hears her shift the ceiling panel. Her toes curl around his fingers. He exhales in relief; if she can figure this out without him needing to call on his super-strength, awesome. She goes home with a sense of accomplishment and he goes home maintaining his secret identity.

“Ok,” she calls down. “It’s open. Lift me higher.”

“Higher,” Peter mumbles to himself. Then, to her, “Uh, I might have to, um, hold your legs. But I won’t look at anything, I swear.”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

Her voice is wry and he chuckles.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Michelle says.

With a bounce of his shoulders, he hoists her up. For a minute, he keeps hold of her foot, but then one of his hands clutches the back of her calf while the other cups her heel. Her weight pulls away from him as she hauls herself up through the ceiling.

“Is there a door?” he asks.

“It’s dark… Can you get my phone? It’s right inside my bag.”

“Ok, hang on. Literally,” Peter adds.

“Ha ha,” Michelle responds dryly, but when he gently releases his grip on her, he finds that she’s able to hold herself in place with her elbows. Her legs dangle and he hurries.

Their conversation and the rush of the action they just took concentrated his senses. Unfortunately, he’s now holding her work bag open and the sounds from her voice recorder are pouring out louder than ever. Still too quiet for her though, at this distance.

‘…didn’t think a suit that tight could hide much, but I’m still pleasantly surprised.’ ‘What, this?’ Spider-Man teases. I abandon my coffee cup and push my reading glasses up into my hair as I set my notes aside to lean in. He might as well have a web stuck to my chest. His awareness of his own physicality is evidently as precise afterhours as it is while he’s on duty because he skims a hand down his abdomen, appearing to almost accidentally hook his thumb in the band of his boxers. ‘You want the real scoop?’ he asks me, prying the elastic away from his skin provocatively. The taste of coffee is still thick and rich in my mouth when I encourage him: ‘Go on, Spidey. Don’t stop there…’

Peter almost drops the bag.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah! Yes. Mhmm, I’ve got it.”

He returns to Michelle and wraps one arm around her legs. With his other hand, he lifts the phone towards her. Her fingers clasp his, then locate the phone and take it from his grip. He holds still while she turns on her flashlight and has a look around. So, Michelle doesn’t have a little crush on Spider-Man. She’s hot for Spider-Man. Which means she’s hot for Peter, in a way. Except not, he reminds himself, because you’re just her silent co-worker. You’re never going to―

“FUCK!”

“What? No. What? What is it?”

“The next door’s way too high,” she says. “We must be almost lined up with one.” She taps him on the head with her phone and he slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he prepares to help her down.

“We’ll find another way.” Will you? he asks himself.

“Quick question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How do I do this?”

He’s holding most of her weight now and, pressing a hand to flatten her skirt against her leg, chances a peek up at Michelle. Her head’s still through the ceiling, arms still braced over the open panel. What would definitely work would be her just letting go and him catching her in his arms, but maybe that’s too much faith for her to put in a random guy from work. Although he’s capable of lifting her, catching her falling body is a completely different thing. As with their escape in general, they don’t have a ton of options.

“Just let go slowly,” Peter coaches. “I’ll adjust how I’m holding you and you can sort of slide down my body.” The awkwardness in his tone garbles the last part.

“I can what?”

Dammit. She’s waiting to come down. He clears his throat.

“Uh, slide down my body?”

Her anxious laugh disappears into the elevator shaft.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he hears her hiss to herself. To him, “Yeah, ok. I’m coming down now.”

“I have you.”

Peter’s counting on the giddiness of being returned to the ground from a height to distract her from the too-skillful way he maneuvers his hands on her. Making sure her skirt never gets rucked up, not placing his hands anywhere truly unforgiveable. He holds her hips, not her ass, and turns his head so his face doesn’t wind up in her crotch. He’s really gentleman-ing his butt off when the recording in her bag calls out, ‘Harder, Spider-Man!’

His hands slip. A second ago, his head was level with her stomach and now his face is buried in her chest, the cup of her bra pressing back against his temple. Immediately, Peter tilts back from his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“I’m ok, I’m good,” Michelle protests as they wriggle together to set her down. He forces her phone back into her hand.

“Your skirt was slippery…”

“I know. You did great, Peter, seriously.”

“…and I heard…”

He shuts his mouth fast, but her flustered expression dissipates as her probing gaze finds his eyes.

“What did you hear?”

Peter pushes at his sleeves and refuses to answer. Her powers of deduction don’t rely on him at all. She whirls to her bag, crouching and dropping her phone in to extract the voice recorder instead. Holding it to her ear in investigation, Michelle probably hears the words By the time he has me on all fours, I can tell that Spider-Man’s on board with my remark on the importance of letting someone be close to him at the same volume he does standing three feet away. He’s basically plastered himself to the opposite wall. She looks about as mortified as he figures he’d feel if he made a recording of a very personal fantasy and someone listened to it. Man, should he have just told her at the beginning? There didn’t seem to be a way to handle it well.

Michelle stops the playback and puts the recorder away. The elevator is abruptly quiet without the whisper of her voice. All the while, Peter’s staring at her, seeing what she’ll do. The most probable conclusion for her to come to is that he heard a single sound, a blip, and has no clue what the recording contained. The way she stands, leaving her bag on the floor, seems to confirm this. But she doesn’t look over at him.

With a sigh, he decides to do what Spider-Man would do and put the person in need first. What Michelle Jones needs from him is a way out of this embarrassment, and this elevator. Peter walks to the doors and stamps his hands to the metal. First, a little compression to get a good grip and then… Scrunching his face with the effort, he puts his back into it, forcing the doors apart. Next, he does the same thing to the outer doors, separating them to reveal a darkened hallway. The floor’s about three feet higher than where he’s standing inside the elevator, but that’s nothing for someone to scramble through and head for the stairs.

He steps away to let her go first. She doesn’t move.

“Should we talk about that?” Michelle asks, pointing at the doors, after what has to be a full minute of her studying him.

“I… work out? A lot. I work out a lot,” Peter says with more conviction on every try.

“And about this?” She grabs her recorder and waves it at him.

“You… use that to, uh, keep track of your ideas.”

She steps up to him and, without dropping her gaze from his face, reaches out to touch his wrist. Her fingers move from tracing his skin to ringing his web-shooter. He wears them to work pretty often, but always covers them with the cuffs of his shirt. Which he rolled up. Because he thought he was alone. There’s no reason for her to know what they’re for though, right? They could be medical alert bracelets, or just jewellery. It’s not like they’re branded with ‘Spider-Man’s Web-Shooter, 1 of 2.’

“You wanna talk about these?”

Peter opts out of replying.

“I know what they are,” she says. “What they’re for. I’ve researched you, looked at a lot of video footage and photographs, many of which I think you took, which seems equal parts fucked-up and brilliant. I noticed them right after we got stuck.”

“I have… a severe peanut butter allergy,” he says unconvincingly.

“Bummer,” Michelle shoots back, unsympathetic. Yeah, it was a terrible lie, but he’s gotta at least be able to say he tried to deny her accusations.

“It is, it is a bummer,” Peter agrees, nodding. He licks his dry lips to wet them. “Sometimes, I have such a craving for a PB and J and I can’t―”

She leans in and gives him a quick kiss.

“I’m… confused,” he admits.

“I know who you are,” she begins. “You don’t have to say it out loud, on the off chance somebody really has bugged this piece of shit elevator, but your severe peanut butter allergy bracelets, in combination with how you opened those doors, are pretty good evidence when compared with my research. So, if I take my supposition as fact―”

“Peanut butter…”

“Save it. If you are who I strongly believe you to be, then you were able to hear god knows what on that recording. Which I am an idiot for forgetting to erase or record over. Meant to do it last night… ugh, anyway. The important thing is that you heard it and you didn’t bolt through those doors the second you got them open. Why.”

When Michelle’s on a roll, he learns, her questions come out as demands. He quits trying to sneakily unfold his cuffs in a way-too-last-ditch attempt at concealing the truth.

“Ladies first?” he tries.

“I’m not going to use what I know. I promise you that. You’re a good person and as far as I’m concerned, your secret’s your secret. You do a hell of a lot more for this city than Jameson does with the trash he prints, my own contributions obviously excluded. Now I’m the only one held over a barrel here, Peter. You heard what you heard. Tell me why you stayed.”

“You needed me.”

“After you got the doors open.”

Peter thinks. Not just about whether or not to speak, but if he’s ready to say what he’s about to say.

“I needed you. It’s like what you said in the story―I mean, the recording. I don’t let many people get close to me.”

“Why would you let me be one of those people? It took being stuck together before we even had our first conversation.”

“A good feeling, I guess,” he explains. “Plus, you’re kinda my dream girl and I just found out that, at least on the physical side of things, you’re really into me. Like, really into me.”

“You can shut up about that now,” Michelle says.

“Why? You didn’t. You had so much to say.”

“Hmm, maybe I like Spi- I mean, that guy better when I’m speaking for him. Fortunately for you,” she says smugly, “I’ve thought Peter Parker the photographer was cute since the day I started working here.”

“That is news to me.”

Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, smirking as she leans her body against his.

“I was getting around to telling you. Are you surprised?”

“It’s a real scoop,” Peter acknowledges as his hands feel out the lithe shape of her back through her blouse.

“Oh my god, you heard that part? That part? How could―”

He more or less molds his mouth to hers. She more or less gives him a tour of her Brooklyn apartment before they spend the night in bed together and rise to a hot cup of coffee.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

#my writing #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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buckstaposition · 5 years ago

Text

I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable.

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami.

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly.

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure."

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day.

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to.

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone.

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you."

"And I'm the asshole..."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it.

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table.

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up.

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist.

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further.

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree.

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for.

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them.

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office.

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña."

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you."

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know."

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another.

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it.

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind.

"Why me?"

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?"

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead.

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all.

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses.

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón."

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes.

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?"

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded.

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly.

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her.

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look.

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it.

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something.

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting.

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly.

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit."

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking.

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel.

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy.

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze.

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage?

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries.

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse.

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that.

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery.

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood.

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal.

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around.

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat.

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to."

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read.

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it.

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something."

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat.

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness.

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band.

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling.

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels.

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?"

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things:

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with.

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all.

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful.

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus.

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints.

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough.

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh.

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation.

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña."

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?"

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

-------------------------------------------------------

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 1 #like gloss tag

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creating-my-chaos · 3 years ago

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There’s this man.. he’s amazing, charming, and charismatic in all ways. I can’t find a single flaw in him no matter how hard I try.. He’s my drug.. he probably doesn’t know that, but I’ve tried to show him. I’m bad it.. I’m bad at a lot of things, everything really.. especially love..

Let me take you back to the start.. It’s early in the morning and I’m doing my paperwork. I happen to come across his file and was drawn to his unique name. Of course I had to see what this man looked like with a name like his, so I take a peek. He has dark brown hair and is very handsome, unfortunately I knew it could never happen due to our association.. The first time I met him was very short lived. Our interaction lasted only about ten minutes and had minimal conversation. He was still very charming and there was something in him I knew I could love endlessly..

On July 19th I received a very unexpected Facebook message, it was him. I hadn’t been at my job for months and he wasn’t from here, but somehow our paths crossed again. We messaged nonstop for about a week until we decided to meet up. We made plans with mutual friends to see each other. When our friends decided to skip out, we were both very disappointed. I had my parents car at the time and wanted to go pick him up. Sadly I didn’t have the gas money to get there.

He sent me the $40 he had in order to get gas and bring him here for the weekend. I drove two hours away from home to a place I had never been and my parents didn’t know I had taken their car that night. It was about 10pm on July 24th by the time I could leave my house. I made it about 30 minutes from his house when my cell phone died. I have no idea where I am or who I can ask for a quick charge. Thankfully a stranger at a local Arby’s was able to lend me a charger for a few minutes. After what felt like eternity, I finally make it to him. We sat in the driveway and smoked before we headed back.

The trip back was long and we were both exhausted and hadn’t slept, but that didn’t stop us from having a good time. We were listening to music, laughing and making jokes. When we hit roadwork on the interstate, I told him we should take a cone. He laughed and told me to stop the car. He opened his door and shoved the cone in the backseat full of moving boxes. We finished driving to my house and went to sleep after that.

We spent the weekend having fun and making memories. He didn’t want to leave just as bad as I wanted him to stay. He ended up spending another week with me. We continued to have a good time and enjoy each other. I felt like myself for the first time in years.

The week ended and I had to let him go home. I dropped him off at the bus stop down the road from my job before I had to go to work for the day. When I got to work I sobbed. I thought it was going to be the last time I’d ever see him. I thought he would go home and forget about me. I was only supposed to be a weekend fling anyway. I was already falling for him and knew it would hurt so I prepared myself the best I could to be ghosted.

Thankfully, I was wrong. Our messages and calls continued through the next week. We connected so well and decided to give it a shot. By the end of the next week he was living with me. He left his belongings and moved hours away from his family for a girl he hardly knew.

The first few months of our relationship was undeniably incredible. He payed so much attention to me and treated me like a goddess. He would do anything I asked of him. He liked to touch me every chance he got and loved having pictures of me. He would even take pictures of me sleeping or just doing things around the house. He would send me relationship goal posts all the time and remind me that he loves me. He posted me on his social media. He always listened and had my back. He doesn’t know how much those things mean to me.

I’ve craved attention my entire life and done many things I regret to get it. It was weird at first because I wasn’t expecting him to show it like that. He made me feel like I was amazing just being myself and I’ve never felt wanted like that before. I’ve always had a low self image, but his attention and affection boosted my confidence and made me feel like I was on top of the word.

Our lives haven’t been great the past year. We’ve struggled a lot. Our house needs a lot of priority things done in order to live safely. We’ve had to choose between food or bills. Life has continued to throw curve balls our way. It’s constantly been two steps forward and ten back. Despite all the BS, we kept our relationship strong and never let anything come between us. We were each others peace and happiness.

As months progressed, the stress of everything was wearing on us. I’m not sure exactly when things started to change. First he stopped paying attention to me sexually. I’m not a goddess in bed and thought I was doing something he didn’t like. I don’t know any of his turn on spots and when I asked, he said he didn’t know. I’ve tried to spice it up for him, but had no luck. I usually get turned down because he’s too tired or not feeling well. When he gives in and we do, I feel like it’s a chore for him.

He started a new job with a ridiculous amount of hours, not to mention he was nightshift too. This meant we had very limited time together. Usually the only time we seen each other was when he dropped me off at work and when he picked me up. We had opposite shifts and one car, it was definitely difficult. He worked most Saturdays, so we really only had one day a week to spend quality time together.

Sundays were his only days off, which would have been our time. During our time, he was constantly online. Most of the pictures he was liking online were to promote his career. However a lot of them were other girls that didn’t pertain to anything. I asked him to stop liking the girls photos. He told me I was acting dumb, that it’s just a picture. I know how girls work, liking a selfie we post is you saying please message me. He stopped liking pictures of girls he knew and started liking ones he didn’t.

At this point he had already stopped giving me attention like he used to. He didn’t post me or send me goals anymore. There were no more pictures of me sleeping or Snapchat screenshots. It made me feel less wanted. I can’t explain the lack of messages or pictures, but not posting didn’t bother me because I know his social media posts are based around his career. When he changed his profile picture to only him, I began to think he was trying to hide me.

I looked through his phone. He was texting girls he didn’t know online often. He would talk to them on his breaks at work, through the day, even while laying next to me in bed like it was nothing. He sent money to do things that I wanted to do the whole time we’ve been together, he saved pictures, he likes their stuff.. He gave them my attention.

I don’t know how to get it back. I try to keep him happy and please him, but I still can’t figure out how to. It seems he’s always in a bad mood and I feel like I’m being annoying or that I’m just another burden to bare. Maybe if I knew where things went wrong, I could fix it. I want my best friend and the love we had back. I can feel myself slipping into the dark place he pulled me out of. I don’t want to be there.

I don’t want to be who I was before I met him. My life was a mess and still is, but they are two very different types. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life and regret most of my choices. He makes me forget those and who that person was. I’m better with him and I want to be better for him. I need my baby and I’ll do anything to keep him. I just don’t know where to start..

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i-am-my-own-goal · 4 years ago

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TLDR: Just processing. Any feedback is welcome if you are compelled to do so. Updates on my health and housing situation.

I’m really just using tumblr to process things anymore. However, I HAVE started cooking again and M and I have consistently Been going on walks. I’ll throw some pics at the end. I hit 200 on the scale again and haven’t stepped back on it in a month. I’m still struggling with stress eating and restricting and bingeing. All I ate yesterday was a soft pretzel before our 7 mile hike. We accidentally slept through dinner then a work emergency happened and we didn’t get to eat together, so I just didn’t eat. Now it’s 1pm and I’m in that restriction trap of “how long can I push myself” I know I should eat something. Anything. I also know I fall into a fast food trap when I drive back from M’s where I order a buncha food and binge eat before bed. I’m not in a good place mentally and struggling to care about not eating now and binging tonight.

I’m trying to figure out housing still. At this point, I’m angry that M’s mom moved in. I guess I wish she had said no to his offer. I wish he had given me more time to think about him asking his mom to move in. I wish I wasn’t so selfish because I really don’t think there was a better option. I’m angry thst im work from home and need space for an office. I’m annoyed that we use paper files instead of every other agency I worked at that was all electronic. An at house office then would have just consisted of a laptop and a whiteboard ...not a book case full of blank files and blank worksheets and bins upon bins upon bins of open files and closed files and referrals and holds.

I started looking at apartments closer to M because I can get a two bedroom for the price of a one bedroom by my job. But the affordable two bedrooms here aren’t in the best areas. I wanted two rooms csuse of my office. I found an apartment complex that’s in a safe area and also gated, but it’s the same price as by my job.

I’m realizing I don’t necessarily need two bedrooms. I just want to not look at my work stuff all day. I think I could manage with a one bedroom thst has a good size living room and I can put a partition up. Or find some way to hide my work stuff. I was thinking like, a curtain over the book shelf even.

But if I’m now looking at a one bedroom that’s the same price as by my work, is that irresponsible? I wanted to move closer to work to go to schools more often. But now that I’m closer, I’m finding it just as hard to make time to go and it’s because I’m still doing intakes at home. I’ve added an extra step.

Precovid:

1) go to school for an intake, pull attendance, meet with kids

2) go to office , finish intake, call parents of kids who were absent

3) update files

Covid

1) do intakes in the evenings

2) go to schools and pull attendance

3) go home and call parents of all kids

4) update files

Not a huge difference, but it’s a huge time difference. I met with my kids and got attendance because I’d just so happen to be at that school for an intake. Now it takes planning to get my attendance and time to call the parents.

I don’t see myself going to the schools more often than I am now. And summer is approaching.

So, I see M more than to to the schools. Is it irresponsible to then move closer to M? Is it more responsible to stay closer to my job just in case I need to go to a school?

I’d been prioritizing work over M. Now I’m feeling like I want to prioritize M over work. This job isn’t forever. It’s until I finish school. M is hopefully more long term. I’ve been really emotionally off since moving out. Add that his mom lives with him and it’s stressful being at his place. And my place isn’t any better and he can’t sleep over at my house because of my parents religious beliefs. Hence why i just go to him. We get more time together. There’s also more to do here (food, trails, etc). It’s just food where I am. Not many trails, only one free one.

We would alternate weekends if I moved closer to work so I wasn’t always going to him. But...if I’m not going to the schools...why would I be farther away from M? Because I feel obligated to be close to my job. Why? I want to make a good impression. I want to seem like work is all important. But is it? No. I like my boss and the pay. But I don’t like the job itself.

It’s shitty to say and def amplifies how much of a spoiled brat I am, but if for some reason it just didn’t work out, and I couldn’t find a new job up here and lost my job down there and couldn’t afford rent, my parents are still my safety net. I HATE that. But I could break my lease and move back in and start looking again.

But...I feel like that’s an extreme thought. I’d probably be able to find a job. Savings would back me up for a short time and I’d probably qualify for unemployment cause I’d never quit a job without finding a new job first. So I’d only lose mine if they let me go. I’m sure I’d manage rent or figure something out before I got evicted or something crazy.

So...I feel like my best choice is to move closer to M. I love this area because of the natural springs and trails and downtown area. The apartment is pricier but safe and really pretty and I can afford it without putting myself in a bind if there’s an emergency. For now, my job is stable and mostly remote.

I can’t tell the future. But I think There’s enough safety that if my job can’t keep me “post Covid” (if that’s ever a thing) because of the distance or if I don’t want to do that distance daily, I have time to figure out a new job.

I’m gonna put an application for This apartment.

#mental health #mental wellness #dating m

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1195

survey by n0b0dysp3rf3ct

—:: Who ::—

... was the last person you saw face to face? I passed by my brother last night when I had to go to the kitchen to fill up my tumbler.

... was the last person you texted or messaged online? Angela; I was just asking her for the difference among A4/A5/A6 since I’m now planning to buy a binder and sleeves for my rapidly increasing collection of photocards and postcards. It really frustrates me that A4 is the biggest one and A6 the smallest :((((

... was the last person who asked you for a favour? Kata, my manager. She filed a half-day leave last Friday to get herself and her family vaccinated in her town, so she had sent me over a very long to-do list of deliverables that she asked me to fulfill while she was out. Eventually she ended up filing a whole-day leave since she felt feverish after being under the sun all day, and also possibly from side effects of the vaccine, so I ended up carrying the entire workload for the day. I like Kata and she’s a very easy person and superior to work with, so I honestly couldn’t complain about it.

... was the last person you lent something to? Ooh, I don’t remember. I don’t really lend people things.

... was the last person who told you a secret/confided in you? Andi was just sharing to me their worries about taking the LAE (scheduled for today) and how they’ll be okay if they don’t pass.

... is the tallest person you know? Jo is like 5′7″ and we all look like beans when standing next to her. One of my uncles is also very tall; around 5′10″ or 5′11″ if I’m not mistaken.

... the shortest person you know? I think Aya? That’s just a smart guess, though; I haven’t seen most of my friends in more than a year.

... your oldest (in years) friend? Mik is turning 28 this year. Sometimes I forget just how much older he is than me since we vibe really well together during the rare times we did get to hang out. I’m still bummed we never got that smoke break we wanted to have.

... is the oldest (in length of time) friend? Angela.

... is your youngest friend? Hannah was born in 2000. Peter was born in 2001 but we aren’t that close yet.

... is your newest friend? I haven’t made any new friends recently. Stan Twitter is lonelier than I thought it would be; everyone is already friends with everyone so it’s hard to break that space. Not to mention everyone is also grossly younger than I am – I keep seeing profiles with ‘2004′ on their bio :/ I should start making an effort to look for older ARMYs lol, I definitely feel like I’d have more fun that way.

... is your closest relative? My eldest cousin on my mom’s side, my Kuya.

... was your favourite teacher? My music teacher from high school. I neeeeeever liked music as a subject and it was never a priority of mine, but she always kept our classes something for me to look forward with her advice and the way she was always able to make lessons interesting.

... was your least favourite teacher? Those who made it clear they didn’t like me, even though I didn’t do anything to deserve such hostility.

... did you spend the most time with when growing up? My siblings and cousins since we all lived together at one point.

... knows you the best? My two best friends.

... always beats you in games or sports? Andi would probably be able to beat me in any game. They just let me win because they know I can be a sore loser.

... who is the most creative of the people you know? My family is pretty artistic and I have a lot of talented relatives - my sister and my cousin Maggie paint and draw; my mom can make any kind of craft she wants, with her hnds; and one of my grand-aunts regularly does paintings. I think all of them are amazingly creative in their own way.

... is the funniest person you know? Probably Andi. Hans makes me crack up too.

... is the most organised that you know? My mom.

... that you know has travelled the most? My dad. Both our fridge doors are filled from top to bottom with magnets from places he’s travelled in due to his line of work. He’s toned down quite a bit in the last few years and has taken to staying within Asia, but back then his traveling history was super expansive – Germany, Jamaica, Italy, Belize, Aruba, Italy, France, Monaco, Denmark, Norway, the UK, US, Estonia, Portugal, etc.

... has always been there for you? Angela never left my side.

... has given you the most personal gift? I can’t possibly pick, my friends are pretty good at giving me gifts...like Andi getting me a Petals For Armor CD and a Punk shirt that hasn’t been produced in a while, and Angela giving me a personalized Friends mug because she knows I like my coffee and she knows I like Friends.

... has an annoying laugh? I don’t think anyone I know has an annoying laugh.

... never forgets a birthday? That would be me.

... do you live with? My parents, my two siblings, and our two dogs.

...,do you have the most in common with? I’m not so sure about this one, actually. I share bits of my personality with a lot of people - like me and Jo liking BTS, me and Andi liking wrestling, Blanch and I having similar personalities, me and Laurice being super meticulous when it comes to our work, etc. - but I haven’t met anyone who’s virtually a duplicate of mine when it comes to my traits and interests.

...is the sportiest person you know? I’m also not sure. Most people I know are into watching a bunch of sports, but none of them actually play.

...was your last missed call? It was an unknown number that I kept ignoring because THEY WOULDN’T TEXT WHO THEY WERE. If you have enough load credits to call me multiple times, then surely you can text me and introduce yourself first, and maybe then I can pick up the phone.

...did you last open your door for? My sister knocked last Friday because someone wanted to talk to me via landline. It was weird since no one calls via the phone anymore, but I have a gut feeling it was that ^ same person who had been trying to call me through my phone but never texted me. Eventually I learned it was one of the bloggers I’m talking to for work who just wanted to ask a few questions about our ongoing engagement.

... has your heart? Kim Taehyung. Expect the same answer for this type of question moving forward.

... has your respect? I gotta hand it to Tina for consistently doing well in her studies and excelling in every subject while doing photo and video editing for two orgs, working on her thesis, and being a board member in our mutual org, all while living alone. She does so well I wish I can tell her to give herself the occasional break to avoid burnout.

...do you share a special song with? I don’t think I have that with anyone.

...do you miss right now? Literally allllllll my friends.

...last made you angry? It’s been a while since I’ve directed my anger towards another person. When I get pissed off these days it’s usually over a situation that goes awry or out of my control.

...did you last buy a gift for? So this was not technically meant to be a gift, but what happened was I accidentally secured two orders of the same poster set, which was a part of this new BTS photobook coming out later this month, from two different shops. One of the shops merely posted an ‘interest check’ for the poster set so I signed up for it thinking it was harmless, but when they got back to me they already attached an invoice :/ I ended up having to pay for it just so things won’t get complicated between myself and the shop anymore; and I told Angela she can just keep the extra set I bought and that she can consider it a gift.

...did you celebrate your last birthday with? My family and technically my workmates since I didn’t file a leave that day. I also had food delivered to their house so I guess that can count as my ‘celebration’ with them.

...have you gone to a concert with? I went with Angela for my first Paramore show.

...can make you laugh? Anyone can tbh. It’s not very hard to make me laugh.

...has taught you how to do something? Nina taught me how to embroider and do basic needle/thread skills back when I was still getting into the hobby.

...has lost something of yours? I am almost certain my ex never kept the handwritten letters I used to write her. She never seemed to remember or bring up the things I wrote.

...has broke your heart? Gabie but I’m over it.

...has stood you up? Hasn’t happened to me before.

:: What ::

Is your favourite colour? Pastel pink.

Can you do that most your friends can’t? Type fast, apparently.

Is your birthday? April 21.

Colour eyes do you have? Dark brown/black.

Form of transport do you take to work/school? I work from home. But under normal circumstances I would drive my car.

Music do you like to listen to in the car? I connect my Spotify to the car’s Bluetooth and listen to whatever artist or playlist I’m into at the moment. The music I put on could also depend on my current mood for the day.

Languages can you speak? Filipino and English. I’ve also been able to pick up looooots of Korean phrases and expressions because of the amount of content I watch. I’m nowhere near fluent, of course, but I’m increasingly able to pick up what people say based off a few Korean words I’ll hear in a sentence.

Was the last thing you drank? Continued from idk. I finished off my glass of water from dinner.

Was the last thing you ate? My mom made pasta.

Time did you wake up this morning? Depends on how late I slept the night before and how tired I was, but it usually ranges between 5:45–7:30 AM.

Colour are your bedroom walls? They’re white.

Drink do you usually order when eating out? I never order drinks unless I’m at La Creperie, in which case I always get their San Gines hot chocolate; for everywhere else that isn’t a bar, I just get water.

Food can you cook well? ...I can’t cook.

Animals have you had for a pet? Dogs, rabbit, lovebirds, goldfish, and technically a cat but she was mostly Nina’s.

Are your initials? RC.

Kind of activities do you like to do on the weekends? I’m still kind of stuck at home during the weekends :/ so I can’t do much, but I’m not complaining since I actually prefer staying in these days. Anyway, most recently I’ve taken to catching up on BTS content I’ve missed over the last 8 years, so I like watching shows they’ve done like Bon Voyage, Run BTS, etc.

Movie do you know line by line? Two for the Road, TITANIC, and probably most of White Chicks.

Band(s) have you seen in concert? Paramore, One Direction, a bunch of local bands.

Do you buy/get to treat yourself? It’s usually food - I like giving myself a feast every Friday night - but I’m putting that in the backseat for now as I’ve realigned my money to be spent on BTS merch. My big purchases are saved for the albums for now, but every now and then I’ll see a postcard or photocard I like and buy them. Once I complete the albums I’ll be moving on to the concert DVDs, then the special packages, then probably BT21 plushies. Needless to say I have a longggggg way to go haha.

Colours your phone cover? I have a clear case.

Part of the world would you love to visit? Another continent would be nice.

Question do you dislike being asked? Even though I know people mean well, I don’t like being asked “How are you?” but tbh it’s more of a me thing because I just never really know what to say.

Subject were you good at in school? History.

Careers do your parents have? They both work in the hospitality industry.

Brand of clothing do you buy most often? For clothes clothes I’m not really loyal to a particular brand; I buy from different brands and shops all the time. But for shoes, I like sticking to Nikes.

Chocolate bar is your favourite? Not a big fan of chocolate bars. I love Reese’s Cups, though.

TV show have you watched every series of? Friends, Perfect Strangers, Breaking Bad.

Radio station do you listen to the most? It’s a little hard to tell at this point considering I haven’t driven regularly in over a year. But back when I used to do it, I usually flipped among 93.1, 99.5, and 87.5.

Podcasts are you subscribed to? I’m not the biggest fan of podcasts. Find them a tad bit boring.

Is your favourite dessert? Macarons or cheesecake.

Can’t you do that most around you seem to? Ride a bike.

Are 5 qualities you value in a friend? Loyalty, thoughtfulness, honest, sensitive to my needs and those of others, and intelligent.

Are 5 qualities you value in a partner? ^ Pretty much the same thing.

Size pizza do you usually order? Family size usually.

Cuisine do you like to order or cook? I’ve been getting Japanese so many times recently. I rarely go outside sushi.

Colour(s) dominate your wardrobe? Black and white, and colors that were in at one point like mustard yellow and pastel pink.

Toothpaste brand do you use? Colgate.

Sounds can you hear right now? My insanely loud aircon.

Is the weather like today? Like hell. I believe we’re reaching a heat index of over 50ºC every day now, so...that’s fun. It gets absolutely difficult to work in the afternoon when the temperature is at its most brutal, and its times like this I wish I got to work in the office so that there’s aircon and I could at least work comfortably :/

Are your plans for tomorrow? Just work and have tons of meetings, the usual.

:: Where ::

Do you keep your phone when not using it? I keep my phone near me even when I’m not using it since I could always get an important notification.

Were you born? Manila.

Do you go to unwind? Most days it would be the rooftop, but under normal circumstances I like staying at a coffee shop somewhere to escape life and my responsibilities for a short while.

Is your best friend right now? I believe they’re both at home since they have no reason to be out anyway.

Can you go nearby to have a good time? Personally, I would just go to the Starbucks near our village lol. If I’m feeling a bit more adventurous I’d head to Katip, which is prrrretty close by but not quite.

Is the nearest restaurant? We have a McDonald’s literally right beside the village. Then besides that is a Shakey’s, and right across that is a Burger King, then the aforementioned neaby Starbucks. Just makes me realize how urbanized my town has gotten in the last few years.

Is the nearest beach? If I had to guess, the nearest beaches would be in Batangas which is 2-3 hours away, but it really depends on how fast you can drive lol. I’m not too good with long car rides so in both times I’ve driven there I had always taken 4 hours.

Did you meet your closest friend? I met Angela in grade school, and I met Andi at a local rally in my university.

Did you go for your last vacation? Tagaytay, though it was a staycation more than anything else.

Is the nearest mall or superstore? It’s like a 3-minute drive away from the village.

Did you last get an injury? I have loadsssssss of new scratches and gashes all around my wrists from playing with Cooper.

Is the most extravagant place you’ve stayed at? It’s a toss-up between Aids’ or Gian’s house. Gian would probably win since I never actually got to go inside Aids’ place, and his was the first house I’ve been to that was able to literally take my breath away. OH and Shaun’s house was pretty fucking swanky as well.

Do most the local kids play? I would have no idea since I’m neither a kid nor a parent.

Have you been with your family? This is a very vague question lol...what do you mean where have we been? We’ve been to different towns around the country and several countries together, if that’s what you’ve been asking.

Did you spend Christmas last year? We visited a couple of relatives, and we also spent it at home.

Did your parents grow up? My mom grew up within Metro Manila; my dad in a city a little outside of it.

Did you buy the shoes you’re wearing? I’m barefoot at the moment and always am at home.

Would you like to go right now if you could? If life had still been normal I would probably be having after-work drinks at a bar near the office.

Do you miss the most from your childhood? I’m not sure how to answer this with where.

Is the best restaurant you know? I’m still searching for it.

Will you never go again as it was so bad? It’s not that it was bad, but I’d probably never dine at 8Cuts again because their burgers are not worth the hype and are very overpriced for their size.

:: When ::

...was your last vacation? My family’s last legit vacation was in August 2019; but we did have a quick escape to Tagaytay in January of this year.

...did you graduate? I officially ‘graduated’ from college in August, if you could even call it that.

...did you decide what career you wanted? Somewhere between my 2nd and 3rd year of college. That was when I decided I hated journalism and preferred PR, but since PR is under journalism’s umbrella there was no need for me to shift courses.

...did you have your first kiss? Continued. Like WHEN when or how old was I when? In any case, it was in January 2015 and I ws 16.

...did you learn how to swim? Idk, pretty early on. My parents liked taking us to water parks when we were younger, so we had a lot of exposure. I’m not sure if there was ever a time where something just clicked and I learned how to swim; I believe it had just come naturally.

...did you have your first relationship? By the end of 2014.

...did you meet your best friend? I met both of them in school, but at different points.

...do you feel the most at peace? Probably when I’m able to stay at the rooftop all alone.

...do you usually fall asleep? I’ve readjusted my body clock now (I used to want to be in bed by 9 or 10 PM, lmao) and I stay up until anywhere between 12-2 AM on weekdays.

...do you usually wake up? Ranges between 6-7:30 AM.

...did you last watch a movie? September.

...did you last go to a party? Around Februaryish, 2020.

...did you last cry? I can’t really recall. The last moment I can remember was crying over Life Goes On sometime last month, when I heard it for the first time. I’m just not sure if that’s accurate or when exactly in April that happened.

...did you laugh really hard? I always have a good laugh at least once a day.

...did you buy something pricey last? Idk what you would count as pricey but I bought the new BTS photobook set when it dropped back in April. Cost me around ₱3750. I wasn’t able to buy from the first press (it sold out in like 7 minutes lol) which included an exclusive poster set, so I had to look for a local shop that was already offering the poster set separately, and ended up shelling out another ₱2200 for it...which means all in all I spent around ₱5950 for it or roughly $125.

...did you have an argument last? Earlier this evening but I don’t want to get into it as it made me cry from sadness and frustration for the first time in months.

...did you last have a sick day? May last year.

...did you last recieve a hug? I have no idea. February, I think? when I hung out with my friends.

...when is your best friend’s birthday? July 22 or September 15, depends on which best friend.

...did you learn how to drive? I started getting lessons when I was 17, but I didn’t start feeling comfortable with it until I turned 18.

...did you last receive a surprise? Around a couple of weeks ago when my dad came home with Jollibee for us.

:: How ::

Many pets do you have? Two.

Many houses have you lived in? Three that I can remember, but I know my parents moved around a bit when I was a newborn.

Often do you shower? Every morning before my shift. I hate feeling sweaty and icky when I report for work.

Well can you cook? I can’t at all.

Many close friends do you have? I have two people I count as my absolute best friends, but I have a handful of close friends as well.

Many Brothers or sisters do you have? One of each.

Often do you go swimming? I don’t swim much at all, really...I haven’t done it since 2019, so that should say enough. As relaxing as it is, I feel like the clean-up afterwards can be such a challenge lol. Like if you swim in a pool you have to rigorously wash the chlorine off of you; and if you swim in the sea you have to also be thorough about making sure you’ve removed all the sand from your body.

Many times have you texted today? I don’t think I texted today but I did spend my whole day on chat platforms.

Do you like your toast (colour, topping)? I don’t have super particular preferences; I just like mine on the burnt side.

Do you like your tea and/or coffee? My coffee has to be sweet for me to enjoy it. I can take black coffee/Americano; I’ll just wince a lot with every sip. No tea for me thanks.

Do you like to celebrate your birthdays? With a lot of food.

Are you feeling today? A little frustrated because of an argument incident this evening. But I’m shaking it off and just focusing on the release of Butter tomorrow. My first BTS comeback!!!

Serious are you about your career goals? Very.

Many rooms are in your house? In total, 9.

Many bedrooms in your house? 4.

Did you do in your school exams? I was never consistent. I slacked off a looooooot in grade school; couldn’t give less of a shit about my classes then. I got a bit more hardworking in high school, but I still was a bit lax and I allowed myself to not put a lot of effort in subjects I didn’t care a lot for and that I know I would never have to use in real life, like chemistry or accounting, so there were exams I really excelled in and others that I would fail. It was only in college I started taking my studies incredibly seriously and I believe that showed in the grades I eventually got.

Close do you live to your parents? They’re like, five steps away.

Close do you live to your siblings? My sister’s literally in the room next to mine.

Sensitive to criticism are you? I know it’s something that can never be avoided, so I’m always open to hearing them, especially if it’s meant to help me. It doesn’t mean I enjoy it as it is being given.

Motivated to make changes are you? Depends on my mood and mindset.

Creative are you (1-10): -0.5.

Hard working are you (1-10): Probably a 22 if I really put my head into a task.

Sporty are you (1-10): I dunno, maybe a 6? I do like playing table tennis, but I’m pretty meh at any other sport.

Musical are you (1-10): 0.

Do you prefer your eggs? Runny yolk; scrambled; or a really packed omelette.

Often do you go out to eat? Before the pandemic, I liked eating out 2-3 times a week.

Would your best friend describe you? Not sure, I never tried asking them this. I hope it’s all nice things, though.

Can someone cheer you up if you’re sad? Send me photos of V. Hahahaha

Often do you meet up with your friends? ...What do you think? D:

Important is religion to you? It is not a part of my life whatsoever.

Old were you when you first stayed overnight from home? 15 or 16, I can’t really remember.

Old were you when you got your first pet? I was maybe 6.

Tech savvy are you? I know enough to survive my own, but I obviously can’t hack into other computers or things like that.

Do you show you appreciate those you care for? Buying them food.

Often do you cut your hair? I only take a trip to the salon once a year.

Often do you paint your nails? Never.

Many countries have you visited? Six.

Boyfriends/girlfriends have you had? Just one.

:: Why ::

... did you choose your username? Because it was straightforward.

... did you take this survey? I like surveys made in categories, and this seemed interesting and varied enough.

... did you choose the career you did? I found that I enjoyed it MILES more than journalism.

...did you last leave the house? I had to go to a local LBC for a work errand.

...did you last give up on something? She wasn’t worth the effort anymore. She hadn’t been for a while, but it took me forever to realize.

...did you search the last thing you searched? I wanted to sing along to the song but it was in Japanese, so I had to look up its lyrics.

...would you give up on someone completely? Oof, I guess you can refer to one of the previous questions. ^

:: If...::

You could live in any country which would you choose? Canada.

You could choose any animal as a pet which one? I’m perfectly content with dogs.

You could be famous for something what would you like? Being known for a funny tweet would probably be enough lol. I have no desire to be famous.

You are sad, how do you combat it? I don’t really get sad anymore these days, so I can’t super remember the go-to tactics I depend on...I guess I like listening to sad songs and allowing myself to wallow in the sadness, because I know I have to accept and process my feelings first before I can be able to calm down.

You can drive when did you learn? I learned shortly before I started college, when I was 18, because no one was going to be able to take me to university when the school year started.

You could have any job what would it be? Idk, I like the one I have now.

You could go anywhere for a vacation where would you go? Somewhere with a completely different feel and atmosphere, like Norway, Sweden, Finland...that part of Europe, basically.

You could eat anything right now what would it be? Samgak gimbap :/

You wrote a book what genre/topic would it be? It would be a book of essays or maybe a memoir.

You had a theme song what would it be? Idk I don’t really think about this.

You could meet any band/singer in person which one? Billie Eilish seems awesome and easy and fun to talk to.

You could act in any movie which would it be? No thanks.

You get married what venue would you like? Hotel.

If you have kids do you have names picked out? I have one name picked out for a girl but that’s it.

Could describe your dream home what would it be like? Brutalist and minimalist, with large windows, cove lights, and a lot of white space.

You could go back in time what would you change? Break up with Gab earlier.

Could use 3 words to describe your childhood which ones? Could’ve been better.

Could get the answer to any question which question would you choose? When I would die and how, just so I can have peace of mind.

You could have an endless supply of something what would it be? Money, because of course.

Meet anyone who no longer lives who’d you choose? My great-grandfather, mom’s side.

:: Can ::

... you ride a bike? No, never learned.

... you ski? I’ve never even seen snow, so no.

... you bake a cake? I can try but it will probably be very clumsily made as I don’t bake.

... you sing well? I wouldn’t say that. I like singing when I’m alone, but it doesn’t mean I’m any good.

... you do your own taxes? I’ve never tried haha so I guess not.

... you remain calm in a crisis? Depends on how serious it is.

... you do first aid? Let’s just say I wouldn’t volunteer if it comes down to it because I feel like I’d commit one fatal mistake that would make the situation graver.

... remember your best friend’s family members’ names? Both of their families, yes.

... you fire a gun? I’ve never tried so I doubt it.

... your parents drive? Yep.

...your best friend dance well? They’re not ‘dancers’ per se but sure, they can bust out a move or two.

...you make people laugh easily? Not everyone, but sure.

...stand up for yourself? That’s what I’m trying to learn these days.

...you do a martial art? No.

:: Would ::

You like to learn a new language? That’s always a welcome opportunity.

Save the life of a stray animal? Absolutely.

Know what to do if there was a hurricane? We have several ones come in the country every year so yeah, I can definitely say we’ve long been well-prepared for them.

Try a new cuisine? I do this as often as I can.

Risk your life for anyone? Yes.

You like to get back in touch with someone? No, I’m good now.

You drive in the middle of the night to get a stuck friend? Ina heartbeat.

You Know how to perform CPR? In relation to the first aid question, I wouldn’t volunteer myself in case I make a wrong move.

You likely win in a game of chess? I don’t even know how it works, so no.

You stop talking for a day for $100? Easily.

#survey #surveys

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

I’m so excited to read these prompt fills! Can I suggest 13 with sternclay? Rating is up to you!

I’m so glad you’re excited, I hope you’re enjoying them!

13: “we make contact before trying to steal the last seat on the subway/bus/train and I end up in your lap and fuck you, I’m going to stay here because I’ve had a really long day and this seat was mine” I went with SFW.

This was not the Halloween (or, more accurately weekend before Halloween) celebration Stern had in mind. The posters made it look like it would be a fun mashup of cheesy horror and fall food. But no, instead it’s just another excuse for his peers to get plastered downtown and eat overpriced brauts.

He even has tomorrow off and everything, he was all set to actually have fun for once and even drank a double-espresso an hour ago so he could stay awake for it.

Boarding the bus, he’s caught up in his thoughts of how he’s going to wile away the hours until he’s tired enough to sleep that he barely spots the last empty bus seat. He’s not the only one.

“Uh, sorry, but I was here first.” The man who’s just sat in his seat gives him an apologetic smile.

“No, I think I was, so move, please.”

“Uh, yeah, no.”

The bus pulls out from the curb, Stern well aware that they’re not even to the most crowded stops downtown, and he is not about to spend the next twenty minutes on his feet crammed in like a sardine.

“Dude, what the hell?” The man pulls his arms away as Stern sits down in his lap, trying to avoid touching him as much as possible.

“I told you it was my seat. So I’m sitting in it.”

Brown eyes lock onto him and for a moment he readies himself for a date with the floor; Stern isn’t a small man, but this guy is like a werewolf in a human suit, broad and tall and obviously strong.

But instead of pushing him, the man just crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head, “whatever man, just don’t puke on my shoes or some shit.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Uh huh, sure.” The man turns to look out the nearest window and, after debating whether he wants to keep arguing, Stern does the same to the opposite window.

After four more stops, the bus is so full that he’s getting pressed up against that plaid-clad torso whether he wants to be or not.

The men look at each other sheepishly, the intimacy of their positions demanding something other than annoyed disinterest.

“I, uh, like your shirt.”

Stern looks down at his button-up, patterned to look like the rug in a famous location in Twin Peaks “Thanks. I wanted to wear something Halloween adjacent. You’re the first person to recognize it.”

“Used to hide behind the couch and watch it when my dad had the reruns on. Formative terror tends to hang around.”

“You know, it never scared me. Things like the X-Files never did either. I always saw myself as Agent Cooper or Agent Mulder, and they always seemed like they were going to through things.”

“That explains the hair.” The tone suggests the other man likes what he sees.

“Hah, yeah, I suppose it does.” He touches his hair, still mostly gelled back, a bit self-consciously.

“None of those scenes ever scared you?”

“Not that I remember. What did scare me, oddly enough, was Lost Tapes.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It was on Animal Planet. It wasn’t very good. I have to say, I’m surprised anything scared you, Mr. Big And Strong.”

Wait, was that flirtatious? Did he mean it to be? Does he want it to be?”

A deep chuckle, much friendlier this time, “I’m all bulk and no bite, babe.”

“I’m ‘babe’ now?”

“If you wanna be.”

Stern gears up to say that yes, yes he’d like that very much, when the bus screeches to halt at his stop. He hops up without another word and manages to get through the crush of bodies in one piece. Well, that was a novel, borderline awkward way to end his evening.

“Y’know, you didn’t answer my question.”

The man is standing behind him on the sidewalk, jacket zipped up against the chilly fall air.

Stern’s surprise must register as alarm, because the man quickly adds, “I live a few blocks up on Jenny street.”

“Right, of course. Um. The answer to your question is yes but, well, why on earth would you want to flirt with me?”

“Not every day a cute guy falls into my lap.”

“I sat in your lap because I was being a stubborn prick.”

“Not saying I wasn’t annoyed, but I admired the determination.” A smile, small but candy-sweet, “and I was kinda enjoying talking to you. Lot of people just talk over me. Plus, you’re clearly a nerd, which I dig.”

“You have no idea. I work at the Cryptonomica part-time.”

“Holy shit, you know Ned Chicane? Dude nearly got me arrested once because he asked me to help him fake some Bigfoot footage and didn’t tell me we were shooting on private property until the cops came.”

“That sounds like Mr. Chicane alright. Wait, then that makes you Barclay, right?”

“Got it in one.”

“I’m, um, Joseph.”

“Care to keep talking shit about Ned Chicane all the way back to my place, Joseph?” Barclay offers his arm and Stern takes it, feeling perfectly at home as leaves crunch beneath his feet and a chill nips at his neck. Barclay lives on the ground floor of a shared house, his room containing more cookbooks than furniture. He asks if Stern would like to watch a movie, leaves him in charge of selection while he goes to reheat some cider.

“I found somewhere streaming all the Universal Monsters movies--ooh, this is delicious.”

“Thanks” Barclay blushes, “I came up with the spice blend myself. And I’m down for some old fashion monster movies. If-” he smirks, “you’re willing to show me just what kind of show can scare you.”

Stern loves a challenge, particularly when it’s offered by someone who’s been eyeing his lips ever since they sat down. So he pulls up an episode of Lost Tapes and settles in net to Barclay.

“I warn you, it’s very bad.”

They crack jokes over the poor script and shoddy research, Barclay doing an excellent parody of the narrators voice. The jump scare gets him all the same.

“Shit!” He scrambles to the side, laughing even as he comes down from the menacing figure darting across the frame. A strong arm drapes over his shoulders and he sighs, amused, “I see your endgame now, big guy. Get me scared by a shitty CGI sea monster so I’ll snuggle up for protection.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, babe, you just can’t resist being in my lap.” That burnt-caramel baritone purrs in his ear.

“Behave” Stern elbows him playfully, “or I’ll give up my new favorite spot for the couch.”

“No you won’t. Couch can’t do this, can it?” Barclay kisses his cheek, waits for Stern to turn his head before teasing their lips together, rumbling out a sigh when Stern leans into the gesture.

“No, I don’t think it can. If it does, we should call an exorcist or something.”

“So you’ll stay put through the movies?” Barclay nips his ear.

“Of course; I have the best seat in the house.”

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #meet ugly #college AU #prompt fill

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calumance · 5 years ago

Text

LA Devotee - Part I

Warnings: cursing, drinking, divorce, smoking, depression

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Emily went through a pretty rough divorce when she got a new job that involved moving to a different state. After moving, her best friend has continuously tried to cure her depression, but nothing has worked. It’s not until she meets the brown eyed man in the club that maybe life will start looking clearer

A/N: Hello!!! Oh my gosh, I finally reached 400 followers!! So, to celebrate this milestone, I am posting the first chapter to a fic I have been working on for, like, two months, but have kind of kept to myself. I hope you all like it, let me know if you want to read more!! 😊

The door locked with a click as the deadbolt set into place. As I turn around I am welcomed by the boxes stacked high that I have yet to unpack. It’s been three weeks since I moved here, and I’ve continuously put off unpacking, even on the weekends when I absolutely nothing to do. It’s not that I don’t want to unpack, it’s just because I’m lazy (which might be a side effect of the crushing depression). A sigh escapes from my lungs causing my chest to fall and I step my way into my drab apartment. Just as I get to the fridge to pull a Smirnoff Ice out of the fridge, the mail was dropped through the metal slot and onto the floor. As I twist the metal cap off the drink, my eyes catch sight of a large orange colored envelope. I took a large swig of the drink, not taking my eyes off the envelope. My heart sinks knowing exactly what was in that envelope.

The glass of the bottle clanks as I roughly set it on the counter and make my way to the envelope. I squat down and pick up the envelope and my heart instinctually starts to race. My finger quiver as I turn the envelope around in my hands. The contents of this envelope are the exact reason I am standing in this tiny apartment surrounded by the boxes that contain my entire life. My eyes close and I drop my right hand, still holding onto the envelope while my left elbow rests on my knee and my hand slides down my face. I think about crumbling them, maybe even lighting them on fire. Three months ago, this had all been completely mutual, but as the process went on, it became completely one sided.

The office was cold and smelled like wet wood. An interesting smell for the inside of a lawyer’s office. I looked out the window towards the downtown skyline. The glass touched my lips and I took a drink of whatever whiskey the lawyer’s assistant had gotten me. A man behind me cleared his throat, causing me to jump and spin around. Mr. Hernandez was standing in the doorway holding onto some papers. The look on his face told me that what he was about to say was not about to be good. As much as I wanted to set my drink down, there was a voice in my head telling me to hold onto it. “He, uh, didn’t accept the conditions and came back with new ones.”

“What the fuck do you mean he didn’t accept the conditions? I felt like I was being MORE than reasonable saying we should split everything 50/50.” I stomped toward him and snatched the papers out of his hands and started reading. My eyes scanned over every word on the page as I carefully took in the new conditions. The rage in my stomach started to boil, to the point where I was physically trembling. I was right in not putting down my drink, because I threw my head back and downed the remaining amber liquid. My hand slammed the glass down and I held my breath for a second so I wouldn’t start yelling. “This motherfucker wants to take everything I have? Why? What the hell did I do to him? He’s the one who decided to divorce me when I told him I got a new job and have to move to LA.” My eyes connected with Mr. Hernandez’s, who was obviously feeling the same pain I was feeling. I dropped the papers to my side and closed my eyes and let the tears fall. “Fine, tell him I accept. I don’t care anymore. I just want enough that I can move to LA without sinking.”

Mr. Hernandez nodded and had me sign on the line that said I agreed to the conditions, even though I didn’t. Over the years I had learned how to deal with him, and deal with all the shit he threw at me, but this, this reminded me of just how miserable he has made me for the past five years. After Mr. Hernandez walked out of the room, I knew that my life was over, or at least this part of it. The book of my early adulthood was finally coming to an end. Maybe moving to LA was going to be good for me. A fresh new start, away from the guy who took so much of my youth away from me. It took a minute before Mr. Hernandez came back into the room, and when he did, he didn’t seem too surprised that I literally hadn’t moved. “So, the papers will be filed tomorrow. In the State of Colorado it takes about 90 days for the divorce to be final. We will mail you the completed files to your new address in California. If you need anything else Ms. Williams,” My heart skipped and I cringed when he used my maiden name, only digging the reality of how real this was further into my heart, “Please, let me know.”

My eyes sprung open and I ripped the envelope open. The envelope fell to the ground as I pulled the finalized divorce papers out. The fire in the pit of my stomach raged as I read through everything I was entitled to and everything he was entitled to. He took everything from me, the only thing I was entitled to was the money I put down on the house we bought together, my clothes, and anything my mom had bought for us. Everything else was his, he was still living in the house I put the money down on, he still had our dogs, he still had everything. I stood up and tossed the papers onto the counter and grabbed my drink. My head tilted back, and I chugged the whole drink down. I grabbed a second drink and walked out of the kitchen towards the couch. As I fell back onto the couch, it moved backwards causing it to make a screeching noise across the hardwood floor.

The annoying sound of my phone ringing caused me to groan out loud. The name on the phone is that of my newest friend, and also my best friend, Mikayla. “Hello?” I answer, not really wanting to talk to her, but it was better than sitting here wallowing in my own self-pity.

“Emily! What are you doing right now? No, wait don’t answer that, because every time you do, I just end up feeling bad for you.” She wasn’t wrong, I’m pretty much a miserable person. I have been since I got my life ripped out from underneath me. “It’s Friday night, you should go out with Trevor and me. We’re going to this club that is supposed to super fun.”

There was no way I was going to catch myself in a club. Drinking by myself at home sounded just fine for a Friday night, “No, I’ll pass, thanks though.” She complained in my ear consistently for five minutes, and just because I wanted her to shut up, I gave in, “Fuck, okay! I’ll go, but I’ve already been drinking.”

She squealed, obviously a lot more excited about going out than me, “That’s fine, Trevor and I will come and pick you up. Dress cute!” She hung up before I could even protest. My eyes scanned all of the boxes. There had to be a good club outfit in there somewhere.

It took a while, but I finally found myself standing in front of my mirror wearing a blue spaghetti strap dress that was form fitting and looked as if it was a wrap, coming to an upside-down V in the front. In another box I pulled out a pair of sparkly gold four-inch pumps. I curled my shoulder length blonde and pink hair and plastered my face with a classy smoky eye and a deep red lipstick. There was a knock on my door, bringing me out of my thoughts. I threw my leather jacket over my arms and flicked my hair out of the back. When I swung the door open, Mikayla gasped. “Emily, you clean up so nicely, I mean, not that you look bad at work, just like, damn.”

“Thanks, can we go now, because the sooner we leave, the sooner I can come home.” Before we left, Mikayla managed to look at the inside of my apartment. She looked at me with a concerned look, but I brushed it off, just as I do with every concerned look I get. My mom gives me a lot of those looks when I am facetiming her. I’m not saying she shouldn’t give me those looks, but I am saying I’m allowed to be hurt and be depressed after my life was literally signed away from me. I am allowed a grieving period, even if it is longer than it should be.

“I, uh, got the finalized papers in the mail today.” I said in a monotone voice as we reached Trevor’s car.

Mikayla stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me, “Oh, shit, Emily. Are you alright?”

The door handle popped as I pulled it open. My hand grabbed the door as I gathered my thoughts and turned to Mikayla. “Yeah,” I nodded, “Yeah, I’m okay.” That was a lie.

All the people in the club were standing shoulder to shoulder, which immediately put me on edge. The only place that didn’t have a lot of people was the bar, telling me that most of the people in this place were too young to purchase drinks. Mikayla and Trevor went off towards the dancefloor while I went off towards the bar. I pulled out a barstool and took my jacket off, placing it on the back of the barstool. The bartender had to yell at me over the music to get my order, which just solidified how terrible of an idea this was. After I yelled back at the bartender, I looked around. There were a few people at the bar, a majority of them just being there to get their drinks and head out to the dancefloor. And there was only me and two other people sitting on the barstools, which this barstool is where I intended on being all night.

To my right, at the end of the bar there was a man, most likely around the same age as me, taking a sip out of his drink. There was something about him that completely caught my attention. His hair was blonde, but it couldn’t be a natural blonde since his eyebrows were a dark black. In the dark, it was hard to see what color his eyes were, but they had to be a dark shade considering in the darkness of the club, his eyes looked black. He laughed at something the bartender said to him, and his smile lit up the whole space around him. My eyes diverted when he looked towards me, obviously knowing that I was staring at him. When he looked away from me, I looked at him again. He was wearing a black button up shirt that was unbuttoned and a black tank top underneath. He pants were the same color as blue jeans, but they did not appear to be the same material. He has tattoos on his hands, but from my spot, it’s hard to make out what they are. My eyes travel up his left arm and note the multiple tattoos on his arm. He looks at me again, and I dart my eyes in a different direction, grabbing my phone, hoping that I don’t look like a creep.

My finger flicks across the screen with a rhythm as I scroll through my phone. Suddenly, the bartender places a drink in front of me, causing me to look up from my phone. I look at the bartender, confused, since I hadn’t asked for another drink yet. “It’s compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar, he said he likes your leather jacket.” The bartender shrugged and pushed the drink towards me. Reluctantly, I grabbed the drink and looked towards the guy who had caught me staring at him twice. I held the drink up and nodded my head towards him in a silent ‘thank you.’ After I took a few sips of my drink, I set the glass down and continued to scroll through my phone.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the man starting to move. Even though I continued to look at my phone, I concentrated on him. He stood from his seat and placed his hands in his pockets. He walked closer to me, and surprised me when he leaned towards my ear, “I’m going to step outside, would you like to join me?” As I looked towards him, he was walking out of the bar area and into the crowd. I thought about if I wanted to go with him or not. If I went with him, there was a small chance I could get murdered, but I mean I could get murdered in here too. In all reality, I could get murdered anywhere. Fuck it, I thought to myself.

I grabbed my jacket and my phone and squeezed my way through the crowd, and out the front door of the club. It was nice to feel the fresh air, and it was nice to be able to hear my thoughts again. He was standing off to the side, lighting a cigarette. My hands dug deeper into my pockets as I stepped down the stairs and the few feet down the sidewalk towards him. He looked at me through a partially opened eye and smiled, “Look, if you’re going to murder me, just get it over with.” My heels were already making my feet hurt, causing me to shift my weight a few times to find a comfortable standing position.

He laughed at my comment, and his laugh sent a shiver down my spine. “Definitely not going to murder you. You just look really miserable in there.” He offered me his cigarette and as much as I wanted to, I waved my hand declining his offer. “Why’d you come to a club if you were just going to sit at the bar on your phone?” He asked before taking another drag.

I laughed and looked out into the street as a car drove by, “Don’t want to give anyone the impression that I chose to come here.” I shrugged my shoulders until my shoulders were touching my ears and then dropped them heavily. “My friend and her boyfriend dragged me here when I was more than happy getting drunk on my couch by myself.”

He nodded taking the last drag of his cigarette. He flicked the butt of the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe a few times to make sure it was out. Once he was sure it was out, he flicked the butt into the street. “Then why don’t we get out of here then?”

I took a step back, slightly offended, “Listen, I’m definitely not out here to try to get laid or anything. Don’t start thinking that I came out here because I want to suck your dick or something.” Not that I didn’t think he was one of the most attractive people I’ve ever laid my eyes on, I’m just not that kind of person.

He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes while laughing. I could finally tell that he had chocolate brown eyes, and there was something in his eyes that made me just want to get lost in them. “Woah, okay.” He laughed again, “I wasn’t asking you to suck my dick, I was just asking if you wanted to leave. No sexual favors involved.” His laugh resonated in my ears, like I was listening to angels sing. There was something in my gut telling me to go with him, even though it could literally lead to a one hour special on Investigation Discovery.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Mikayla, “Hey, I am going to catch a ride home, I guess this isn’t going to be my cure after all. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” My phone made a wooshing sound as the message sent and I looked at the brown eyed man standing in front of me. “Sure, but I need to go pay for my drinks.”

He pulled his keys out of his pocket, causing them to jingle, as I turned to walk back into the club. “Don’t worry about that, I already paid for them.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and tilted my head a bit confused, and now slightly angry. Not even entirely sure why I was angry, the feeling just suddenly took over my whole body. I spun on my heels and took a few steps closer to him. “Why did you pay for my drinks? Did you know you were going to get me to go home with you, or what the fuck where you planning?”

His eyes grew big as my sudden outburst of anger shocks him. “Uh, nope, not trying to do anything. I paid for your drinks because I was being nice to the attractive woman a few seats down from me at the bar. I wasn’t planning on taking anyone home with me, if that means anything to you. I was on the edge of trying to go home myself, just thought I’d like to talk to you in a more quiet setting. I’m sorry if that looks bad, I meant nothing bad of it.”

My heart beat slowed as I realized I was literally acting crazy. Never in my life have I had a random guy pay for my drinks to be nice. As I took a deep breath I ran my finger and my thumb across my forehead, trying to send a silent message that I’m not always this insane. “I’m sorry, I just- never mind. I’ll follow you to your car and you can take me wherever you want to go, just get me away from this place, and please don’t murder me.”

A smirk formed on his lips as he nodded and turned to walk away from the club. Even though I agreed to go with him, I still was reluctant to follow him. We were silent, the only sound between us being my heels clicking every time they made contact with the cement. I watched my feet so I wouldn’t fall, but looked up at him every so often. My mom would be losing her mind right now if she knew I was leaving a club with someone I’d literally never met. My phone vibrating consistently told me Mikayla was having an absolute panic attack. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shut it off. “My name’s Calum, by the way.”

My head flicked up to look at him, he was holding out his hand as if for a handshake. I placed my phone back in my pocket and looked into his deep brown eyes. “I’m Emily.” Our hands clasped together and I couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together. He smiled a wide smile and shook my hand once.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Emily.”

Part II

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nightcityhqs · 4 years ago

Photo

case file ; Maddox Kingsley

nicknames ; None.

associations ; The Entertainers

occupation ; Host of the Sunset Frequency, Owner of Persephone's Den.

birthdate ; November 22th, 1980

hometown ; London, England

current location ; Downtown

pronouns ; She/Her

mirror image ; Charlize Theron

IN CHARACTER INTERVIEW

the record stops, the player tape states, and the radio static is replaced with voices;

— And our dear listeners are eager to know, how long have you been in Sunset Port? — Most importantly, why do you stay?

"You know, I'm normally the one doing the questions," Maddox says, accent heavy on her tongue, blowing the smoke from her cigarette away as she watches her assistant tug on the collar of his shirt, visibly uncomfortable. She sighs, "I've been in Sunset Port for twelve years. Stuck in this studio for what? Eight years?" her accent is thick, and Maddox shifts on her seat, clearing her throat. "Why don't I leave? I think about doing it, often. But I made a home for myself here, despite how dull the city can be. And if I leave, who will be the joyful company for our dear listeners every night?"

Of course! We can all identify with the sentiment. Well, at least some of us. [LAUGHTER] What do you do in Sunset Port?

A brow is raised, and Maddox groans, half annoyed and half offended. "Is that how I sound when reading those questions? This script is badly made, you know! Who is responsible for this? They should — What? I wrote it?" There's silence, before a tongue is clicking against the roof of her mouth. "Ah. Well, I should rewrite it, then. Well — Isn't it quite obvious?" She leans forward, mouth close to the microphone and voice low and dark, full of mysteries as she repeats the well known quote, "Good evening, Sunset Port. You've tuned in the Sunset Frequency, 66.6. And I will be your company for the night. Here all night, every night."

Admirable! Now, I’d have left this question last to finish with a bang, but our listener is impatient, oh my! Have you heard of our little organization?

Nothing but silence can be heard through the radio, long and uncomfortable. The cigarette burns as the fingers holding it tremble slightly, and Maddox sighs after some time, clearing her throat once more and taking a long drag of her cigarette. "Who hasn't?" The question escapes her lips with no emotion, no surprise. It's cold, and sharp as knives. "Why is that an important question?"

Oh my! — And if Isabella Castello came knocking at your door, what would you do?

Maddox chuckles, the absurdity of the questions finally catching up to her. "Well, darling, I would tell her to go fuck herself." Her assistant goes pale as a ghost, his next words barely leaving his lips.

Interesting. Well, I think I’ve kept you here long enough! Thank you for speaking with our public! Which song would you like me to play for you, now?

"Let’s put something inspiring for our dear listeners, huh? How about The Other Side, by Woodkid."

BIOGRAPHY

Trigger Warnings; Violence, Murder, Guns, Drugs, Serial Killers Mention

Maddox Kingsley understands enough of human nature to perceive her morals; nor black nor white, but shades of grey. Most are darker than others, more prominent. Some are hardly noticeable, but the danger is still unmistakable. In hindsight, it should be said her morals are questionable, simply put. There is no wrong or right, for Maddox. Sides are of little importance, as the only side she cares for is her own. A selfish little thing, with only her well-being in mind; she doesn't partake in any activities if she is not gaining something out of it. Maddox is easily buyable, and that's where the trouble resides; her loyalty is not worth a penny, at the end of the day — Not if someone pays better for it. Betrayal is part of Maddox's nature; it's in her blood, her instinct. Not born with her, but shoved in her bones, carved into the space where her heart should've been. Survival had been the first thing Maddox Kingsley learned, forced into her veins by unpredictable events and painfully drastic circumstances —

You see, Maddox Kingsley had not been planned by loving parents intending to start a family. She had not been imagined, had no one who had longed for her — who had dreamed of her. No. Maddox is the outcome of a series of unpredictable events and terribly, comical if not painfully drastic, exaggerated misunderstandings. A tale so entangled in lies and achingly raw sorrow it is hardly possible to determine the truth. Few things were undoubtedly accurate, facts people embraced without question or suspicion. But the truth, not in its entirety for many pieces of the puzzle were in possession of wrathful and indignant people who would not abide Maddox's questioning, laid dormant and guarded within the confines of her mother's broken heart, hidden from those who found fondness in rumors. Her mother bore the harshness of words in a selfishly selfless act to shield her daughter, and herself. A deed meant to reassure Maddox of her devotion, and thus devotion would be given in return.

So Maddox knew she was not unloved, her mother’s love had been her only certainty amidst the turmoil, but she wasn't awaited.

At eighteen, Lucrecia Kingsley found herself aggravating her family's situation — once prominent but now sunk in a sea of disrepute and misery. Pregnant. Surprisingly, unseemly and in her father's perspective, undesired. To further his despair, orchestrating a marriage with the father would be improbable, as the man was to be engaged. Not to his daughter, thus saving the family from bankruptcy, but to a society lady. Maddox's mother was adamant about keeping her child, despite that her father threatened to disown her. Thankfully, the man she had slept with during a moment of intoxication and hurt provided accommodations, given she allowed him to share the child with her, and she willingly accepted in a moment of desperation.

The first few years weren't cruel to Maddox. They were not particularly kind, by any means, but the child was shielded from harshness and ruthlessness during most of her first years. Her mother was young, inexperienced, fighting to overcome an essentially empty bank account — but the woman was loving, in a way her own mother had never been before. Maddox was attached to her, clinging to her mother's dresses whenever the woman had to leave for work or when Maddox's father arrived to pick her up for weekends each Friday night. Maddox's mother gave her as much care and comfort as she could, but the woman couldn't preserve her from the distant home her father dared take Maddox to every weekend.

A psychiatry student, Bertrand was a man none dared challenge in fear of his influence and authority. Rumors of Bertrand fabled cruelty were shared in hushed whispers by those brave enough to speak words considered blasphemy, but no eyes had ever witnessed such evil coming from the man's hand. Cold, yes, but not brutal. The man adored Maddox, pampering, and doting on her whenever they spent weekends together, but his family did not share the sentiment. Maddox never met her paternal grandparents, before.

She was young, barely 5, but her first memory is of that night.

Sat in the back of an ambulance, the police lights bright and vibrant amidst the darkness, Maddox hardly paid mind to the yells of an elder woman she had never met before, who was daring to disturb the ghostly silence plaguing the night. Her attention was solely on her father, his calm eyes staring at her through the car window. To this day, Maddox remembers the strangest feeling creating roots in her lungs at the sight of her father in the back of a police car, officers and agents crowding their house and invading their space.

Your father killed a bunch of people, the agent with kind eyes had informed her, and Maddox remembers how she struggled to speak the words - had to force each syllable and consonant out, her brain surely wondering how to best tell a young girl her beloved father was a killer — and that her mother would not be returning. Her blood continued to stain the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and her father’s eyes never showed any sign of emotions — Maddox knows, now, if she was in the agent's shoes, she would’ve been struggling too.

When Maddox had been discharged from the hospital — an extraordinary child having survived the impossible — it was to the stern hands of nuns with kindness in their eyes, faintly. Taken to a countryside orphanage, Maddox Kingsley turned out to be a difficult case for the nuns and caretakers to restrain. It was to be expected, of course, with her father in jail and her mother murdered. But Maddox's refusal of cooperating, accepting the affections of candidate parents, and simply not speaking whatsoever — proved to be rather complicated. She went and came, a family never settling with her or accepting her into their folds, wishing for an easier child to love and support instead, and returning Maddox to the hands of desperate nuns had been Maddox growing years. Coupled with fights she would often get into with the other children, well — They couldn't do much for her.

It wasn't until Maddox turned twelve that a man with a prominent glare on his face and few words on his lip finally sealed the deal, taking Maddox in and signing the adoption papers when they were ready. Unusually quickly, but the orphanage was thankful for the money the man provided and to see Maddox finally with a 'family'. Little did they know the man was nothing of a father, but a mentor of sorts; an assassin, one with quick hands and light feet. Maddox kicked and screamed, but soon she fell into her new routine. The man did not care about the fights she picked in school, as long as she kept her head down and the attention on her to a minimum — and every day they trained. Trained until Maddox bones were sore and heavy, until her lungs ached in her ribcage, her ears ringing from the gunshot noises, and her arms burned from the weight of guns.

Maddox and the men held no affection for each other, traded few words, but he shaped her to be a merciless killer, one who could survive the dangers of this world and would not be bound to the grieves and disturbances a heart might cause. By then, she did not remember her mother by face, and tried not to think of the woman — choosing to guard the good memories in a dark place of her heart, a place where the sun doesn't shine and her blood-stained hands couldn't cause such joyful things to root. Maddox and the man held no affection for each other, traded few words, but he shaped her to be a merciless killer, one who could survive the dangers of this world and would not be bound to the grieves and disturbances a heart might cause. By then, she did not remember her mother by face, and tried not to think of the woman — choosing to guard the good memories in a dark place of her heart, a place where the sun doesn't shine and her blood-stained hands couldn't cause such joyful things to root. By eighteen, Maddox started taking her own jobs, and proved to be quite adept at it. She was never caught, and never left witness behind. Fighting came as easy to her as breathing, and Maddox paid no heed to pain. She was a machine, good as they come. By twenty-five, she was running in with a partner, a man she met during a job who was paid to kill another target in the same party she had a target. It wasn't a life she was proud of; running credit card scams, killing for money, and never settling down in one place — but it was the life she knew. The only thing she had been good at. Perhaps it is genetics. Perhaps she is as rotten as her father. Thoughts that kept her awake at night, knowing them to be true. Everything she touched died, just like him.

With her story and her past, it didn't take long for the Organization to contact her. They promised her the world for her skills, but it came with a price. She had to leave her partner behind, and kill a target that had been escaping the Organization grasps for some time. Maddox faked her own death, leaving London, and following the trail, she was given up to Bulgaria, where she found herself face to face with the man that had raised her, taught her. It wasn't an easy fight. But she came out victorious, and at first thing in the morning, was leaving on a plane to Sunset Port.

After that, guilt began to settle in her bones. She continued to do her job, but the taste of blood now left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, and when she turned 32, Maddox decided to leave this life behind. She couldn't, not fully, of course — one does not simply leave the Organization. But they offered her a retirement plan; take charge of the radio station, and be free to do as she wishes in her free time. She accepted it with no questions asked, and has been the radio host for the Sunset Frequency since then.

#nightcityhqs.characters #nightcityhqs.entertainers

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wetookanoath · 5 years ago

Text

Supernatural Season 6 | The Haunting of Loey Lane.

Shane and his Shaggy cosplay are everything I need to know to be asured this episode will be iconic. And look a thim go. I love him.

I am way too distracted by Ryan’s buttons being open, I’m sorry, I cannot fuction now.

“Oh, no voice this time?” Okay, but Shane’s smile is... fjnfiwsmdikr. Why is this man like this? Anyway... Ryan’s laugh and the way he just, turns on Host Mood again, holy shit.

The way Ryan is narrating this episode is even more precious when you look at the credits and see that he himself wrote this episode. “From guru to booru”, I fucking hate you, Shane. Ryan’s face, tho. That look between done and fond, same.

“I was very respectful”, honey you were high in medicine, shut up.

Weekend At Ghoul HQ, starring Ryan Bergara and real size doll Shane. “I believe you believe” it’s the creepiest shit, stop that.

Growing up in a haunted farmhouse? Same. Oh gosh, jokes aside, I’m gonna say this right now... I’m not going to discuss in public whatever I believe in what may happen in this episode or not. I’ve been realizing slowly that I don’t feel comfortable talking about these things online because believing has a lot to do with faith to me, and faith is part of my life in a way that is too important to me. That said, watch me make fun of my own faith all the time and discuss whatever else you guys wanna talk about with me regarding the show, the boys, etc.

Loey saying she has never been scared of ghosts it’s exactly how I feel about the paranormal and the supernatural in general. I mean, I don’t claim having any kinds of powers or touch, or what have you. But god, I would be so happy and enchanted by seeing a supernatural being right in front of me. And whatever may scare me sometime, it’s always human doing, it’s always natural, tangible, there. And even then, I do like being scared. So there’s that, I guess.

“Are we Bruce Willis in this situation?” how the hell did that came from what they were talking about, lmao. Another Willis mention this season, Mr. Die Hard will end up becoming part of the inside jokes in this fandom at some point.

“I love a little stirring” Shane looks so excited about doing Some Bullshit in this episode, and I saw how chaotic he was in his solo, I can’t wait to see it by myself. LMAO, this bit is both funny and kind of adorable. Also, witches AU.

“Why would you come to us uf you want us to fix it?” An excellent question I don’t understand either, to be honest. The show is not about actually hunting enthities or debunking shit, so this is... come on. I think we know what it is, lmao. But it’s fine, I like this House Call shit.

No ofense, but using a 100 hundred years old Ouija board as a decoration is like a horror movie plot where white people are white people about it. I love it.

*Rubs eyes and sighs deeply*

... What is Shane doing with his tongue? I, I, I don’t like that... Not a fan... Put that tongue back in your mouth, Shane. I don’t like this bit.

Shane calling Ryan a, like, passionate paranormal investigator and the bitch immediatelly saying he is insane is my aesthetic and also yet again, a great summary of the show.

“This is the part where you learn how truly boring it is to be a ghost hunter”, lmao. Talking about these parts, I love the colors we get from the cameras each time, I can’t wait to make the edit for this episode.

Oh man, it must be something to see these two grown ass men saying and doing stupid shit to get ghosts to listen to them and do something But also, Shane slowly walking towards Ryan to film a super close-up of his eyes, OKAY. They are so stupid.

That... that is a werid thing, Shane is right. Oh man, this is giving me flashbacks to that serial killer dude in The X Files that was obssessed with women’s hair/cleaning them up for burials.

Okay, that thing Shane just did with his mouth knocked me out for a bit. Imma head out. “That sounds demonic”, this better not be the season’s demon investigation. And oh look, what’s a supernatural season without Shane giving hints of him being a demon? It makes it funnier how he never really talks about it anywhere. Like he obviously knows aboutt he fandom’s joke, and I’m sure he keeps doing shit like this to feed it, but it all becomes even better when he just... never says shit about it. It’s always Ryan the one who answers when asked about it.

Cats do tend to get spook at everything and look up for no reason at all, every time my cats do that and one of nieces or nephew is around and asks about it, I always go “oh, he is just seeing the ghost that lives here” and then their mothers want to kill me.

Yeah, you don’t... do that. Horror movie 101. Don’t ever give permission to shit to enter. “Hey, can I come in?” “No, bitch, go away” is always the answer lol.

Guuurrrrllll...

This bitch ass thingy in her home really is there because of her. If there’s something in there, it’s not the place, it’s her. Also bitch ass demons as always listening to Shane is everything.

I.. like how Shane looks in that blue lighting. “Oh, you know what? Not bad, not bad”, why is he like this.

Ryan’s metaphores are excellent, imagine him giving talks to his future children by using weird ass metaphore and the kids just... staring at him.

“I’ll take you home with me, I don’t care” LMAO, imagine this idiot walking into his apartment, “Hey Sara? I got a demon, can we keep him?” “No” “Too late, I told him he is staying!”

“Assert my dominance” the smile? Awwww. The awkward moves of his hand, fjnvidnfir, Ryan is so fucking cute, makes me cry.

... What is Shane doing? I love how they just leave Shane’s whatever there while Ryan talks to Loey, fkjdniednfirnfgirt. Do that more often. Love that hair, also. Long hair is the best hair.

Shane literally saying he will use all the power he has gotten by defeating demons it’s such a powerful prompt. He is giving us the power to create shit, use it well, demon Shane writers and fanartists. “Alakazam! Big bang boom, hope you like hell, you loser.”, I fucking love this dork.

“What does that mean? You guys have inside jokes?” “Yeah, we bonded” JFNIERDNFIRF SHANE.

Loey is me and Shane is my brother, this is how we usually talk when one of us is saying some bullshit kfdndiofmkirg

“What’s your name? Come on, what’s your name? I know that gives away your power”, Ryan out there getting advice on demon hunting by The Conjuring 2 is the biggest mood. No, but for real-- there’s actually plenty of myths and cultures that believe the way to defeat some sort of evil is by knowing its name. It’s really interesting, the kind of power we really do give to names.

Not really a fan of this. Man, I really hope this is not the season’s demon investigation.

Ryan Steven Bergara Stop Saying You Are Annoying Or Ugly Or Whatever Negative Shit You Are Always Saying About Yourself Challenge.

This is such a “So... you come here often?” type of situation, djnfisndief, I love this. And we are back at the ‘I hate Shane’ bit again, I really stan a twelve years old. The fond voice with which Shane says “I mean, you are having fun”, awwwwwww. Cuties.

Shane looks hella cute doing his fornite dance, I hate him.

Did that shit just laugh after scaring this poor woman? JFNFIENFIERNIGF

Christ almighty, Ryan looks so fucking small at Shane’s side, what the hell? Also, this is so... damn adorable. Shane trying to teach Ryan how to do the dance, it’s hella cute. Oooohhmmmygoodddddd, I’mmmmm meltinnngggggggggg... Ryan’s little dance, djnfienf he is such a bad dancer, I love him so much.

This poor woman is having a breakdown in there and these two bitches are just being... whatever the hell they are doing, lmao. “You are suggesting a ghost farted in my face?” “Yeah” AHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Ryan suggesting the demon is asking her out for a drink and looking at Shane while doing so, jfniednfir what the fuck is that. This demon suitor just doesn’t know how to ask her out on a date, lmao.

“Our job here is done!” and Loey’s reaction, dkjnfeinfir same.

Get haunted for the aesthetic, why not? Interesting episode.

#buzzfeed unsolved #ryan bergara #shane madej #loey lane #bfu #supernatural #ss6 #loey lane ep #text #your local nerd talking.txt #mine #text*#ss6*#ss6text*#long post //#commentary #commentary*

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bugaboosandbees · 6 years ago

Text

Reine Ruse Part 5

Hello all! I finished this chapter a bit early, so I figured that I'd post it a bit early!

There's a LOT going on emotionally in this chapter, and I only hope that I managed to do it justice. I am writing from my own limited experiences, so if you see anything I missed or handled in a way that feels wrong to you, please let me know.

It means the world to me that so many of you are interested in these dumb ramblings. Thank you all so, SO much for reading!

As always, if you’d like to be tagged, shoot me a message! (And please remind me if I forgot to tag you... computers are hard!)

Chloe

Chloe lay back in bed, resting one hand over the necklace that now hung around her neck, the silver metal seeming too little a weight for its importance. Her new kwami and partner, Trixx, was happily burrowed into a den she’d made him out of one of her dresser drawers and several of her fluffiest winter scarves. Her head was still spinning.

Tikki had left after setting the necklace down on the table between them. “As soon as you pick it up, Trixx will appear. They’ll explain everything.” Her eyes had softened. “Thank you, Chloe. It will be nice to know that someone has her back.”

Chloe had stared at her determinedly. “I won’t let her down.”

“I know.” Tikki had smiled and then vanished into the night.

Chloe had stared down at the necklace for some time, noting the way that the silver metal reflected the light in the room. Finally, she had reached down. As soon as she’d touched the chain, she’d had to close her eyes against the blinding orange light that had erupted. When she’d opened them, there was an orange fox-like being the same size as Tikki and Pollen in front of her.

“Hello,” they’d said, “My name is Trixx, and I’m your kwami! Tikki’s explained the situation to me. I can’t believe what my previous kit did that to Ladybug, but I thank you for taking care of her. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, and I know that you won’t make the same mistake.”

Chloe wasn’t quite sure what to make of Trixx. They were different from Pollen… Pollen was kind and quiet. In the few moments Chloe had had with her, she seemed pretty content to cave to Chloe’s judgment. Although Trixx put on a playful front, they seemed wise and looked at her like they knew a secret she didn’t. She had the feeling that this was a kwami that wouldn’t let their wielder get away with the kinds of things she’d done as Queen Bee at first. She wasn’t going to lie, that was reassuring.

Trixx had explained the powers of the fox to her in as much detail as she could wring out of them. She was going to be the best damn superhero partner Ladybug could ever dream of having, and she couldn’t look anything short of competent her first time out. Illusions were going to be new. She was a bit annoyed that the fox miraculous sounded less combative than the bee, and she must have looked it.

“Don’t underestimate the power of perception, kit.” He’d looked around her room. “You seem like the sort of person who knows what lies people tell themselves, and how far they’re willing to go to cling to those illusions. You may not be able to paralyze your foes physically as a fox hero, but if you figure out what matters most to them, you’ll paralyze them mentally, which is infinitely more fatal.”

She’d thought about what Trixx had said and concluded that they were right. When they’d put it that way, she’d started to see that her new power set was more suited to her than she’d thought. She’d grown up in a high-class world of glitz and glamour, learning early on that no one could truly be trusted to not want to use her as a connection to her parents. She’d spent more years than she’d like to admit lying to herself that her mother’s abandonment and her father’s passivity in her life didn’t hurt her, that they really were the perfect family they pretended to be for the press, and that she bullied Marinette Dupain-Cheng because she hated her -- not because she was jealous of the other girl’s boundless kindness and loving home. She could do this. She knew what people wanted and how far they were willing to go to get it. She knew how people lied to themselves and what kind of pain those lies could cause. She could do this, she could use the few, shitty lessons her parents had sought fit to teach her for some kind of good. She had to -- Ladybug was counting on her.

Marinette

Marinette awoke to sunlight streaming over her face. She stretched, still half asleep, and curled her toes into the soft blanket. She felt so relaxed... She turned her head and slowly opened her eyes to find Tikki sitting on the small bed she’d fashioned for her, eyes closed as a shimmering red glow emanating from her, covering the entire bed.

“Tikki? What’s going on?”

Tikki slowly opened her eyes. “Good morning, Marinette. I… I thought that after last night, you deserved a really good night’s sleep. Just think of it as a bit of kwami magic.”

Marinette smiled softly. What had she done to deserve Tikki? “Thank you, Tikki.”

The red glow dissipated as Tikki rose into the air, hovering over her charge. “And, it’s Saturday, which means that you should be able to work on the dress you’ve been meaning to finish!”

Her eyes lit up. “You’re right! I’ve been so busy, but all I have to do this weekend is the history report, and I’ve already picked out my sources, so that shouldn’t take too long!” She rose out of bed, clambered down the ladder to the floor, and stretched, arms raised high over her head.

“... Marinette,” Tikki sounded almost hesitant. “There is something I should tell you before you get to work.”

Marinette looked up at Tikki questioningly. “What is it?”

The tiny god sighed. “Last night… after you went to sleep, I was just so worried about you, and about everything happening with Chat Noir… I was so angry. I went to visit the Guardian, and when he didn’t share my concerns… I chose a new permanent hero myself.”

“What?” Whatever she’d been expecting, that was not it.

Tikki barreled on. “And, I couldn’t take the turtle or the bee, so… I took the fox. I know that things have been complicated with Alya lately, but I didn’t even consider that before I went last night, and I know that the person I picked is someone who is going to really protect you, but I don’t want to make anything more complicated between you and Alya --”

“Tikki, Tikki, it’s okay. I… with everything that’s happening with Chat lately… it will be really nice to have some back up that I can count on. And, as for Alya…” she quieted. “I’m not sure I’d be able to put my feelings aside enough to trust her in battle right now. Honestly, I was dreading the next time my Lucky Charm would call for the fox because Master Fu tells me to choose people that I trust, and… I’m not sure if I can trust her anymore.”

Tikki flew down to rest a comforting paw on Marinette’s cheek. “It’s okay, Marinette. Everything’s going to be okay. For now, why don’t we get to work on that dress?”

Marinette nodded and turned towards the half-finished gown on her mannequin with a determined smile. Her kwami was on her side, and she had someone new that she could trust to watch her back. She’d deal with Chat when she had to, but, for now, Tikki was right -- it was time to do something she enjoyed, and she wasn’t going to let anything taint that.

Adrien

Adrien had been pacing his room for hours. He was so tired, but he hadn’t been able to sleep at all the last night. Every time he’d tried, he’d seen the fear in his Lady’s eyes as she’d run from him the previous night. How had he not recognized it? How terrible of a person was he that his Lady’s fear hadn’t been enough to make him see what he was doing was wrong? Why had both Chloe and Plagg had to set him straight?

It was clear that he’d need to do more than just apologize. He wanted to kick himself. He’d thought he’d been doing things right -- he’d just wanted Ladybug to know how much he cared about her. But he’d forgotten his duty to the city -- and to his partner. His Bugaboo was right -- first and foremost, they were superheroes. And he’d been acting like a jealous anime protagonist. He thought of how he felt when Lila or the models he worked with would hang off of him and flirt and invade his space and felt sick. Of all people, you’d think he’d be the one to realize when someone’s boundaries were being crossed!

He paused in his pacing and leaned his forehead up against the cool glass of the window. He had no idea how to fix this. When it had happened to him, he’d either just dealt with it, in Lila’s case, or his father had filed restraining orders. Neither option was viable here, and, frankly, his stomach churned at the thought of exiling himself from the only person felt like he was really himself with.

The crux of the problem was that he needed advice. Plagg seemed to have exhausted his short bout of wisdom, maintaining that he made this problem, and it was his responsibility to fix it. The tiny god had been more affectionate than usual, curling up in the hollow where Adrien’s neck met his shoulder rather than on the small bed Adrien had fashioned for him next to the cheese cupboard. His kwami’s support despite his monumental screw up was the only thing keeping him optimistic that he might be able to fix this somehow. But who else could he go to for advice? He couldn’t talk to anyone as Adrien, that was for sure. If word got back to the press that he’d behaved the way Chat Noir had, Agreste Fashions would get enough bad press that he was sure he’d never leave the house again. But who did he know as Chat, besides his Lady?

The answer hit him like a bolt of lightning. Of course! Who better for a superhero to ask for advice than the famous Ladyblogger?

Alya

Whatever Alya Cesaire had been expecting to happen that Saturday morning, it certainly wasn’t one of the two superheroes of Paris knocking sheepishly on her window, much less that the superhero in question was Chat Noir. She hurried to open the window and let him in, mind racing.

“Chat Noir! What’s up?” She exclaimed. Internally, she was confused. Chat didn’t know she was Rena Rouge, so, unless Ladybug told him, he wasn’t here to recruit her for a fight… But it was unusual for him to stop by -- for that matter, how did he figure out where she lived?

“Hey, Alya,” he muttered, dragging a clawed hand through his hair in a gesture that was uncharacteristically nervous for the confident superhero. His eyes looked a bit watery through the mask. Had he been crying? “I know this is kinda strange, but, I don’t really know many people as Chat, and I needed some advice… If you’re busy, I can totally leave, I didn’t mean to impose, I mean, you’re probably busy and --” he looked like he was working himself up into a frenzy. Just what was going on? “Chat Noir! Calm down, it’s fine, I’m not busy. Why don’t you have a seat?” Alya quickly dumped the stack of school books on her computer chair to the floor.

He complied, sitting ramrod straight, knees pressed together, and hands clasped in his lap. She raised an eyebrow.

“Alright,” she said slowly, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.” Chat looked down at his hands. “I really messed up.”

“What do you mean?” she questioned. Was it something to do with an akuma? No, she’d have heard about that… But what else could he mean?

“It’s… Ladybug. I… I’ve been an awful partner and a worse friend, and I don’t know how to fix it!” His voice rose in distress near the end of the sentence, and he clenched his hands so tightly Alya was sure that, if he hadn’t been wearing a super-suit, his fingernails would have dug bloody crescents into his palms.

“Slow down there, tiger. What do you mean by that?” Alya’s mind was racing. What had happened between Paris’ heroes? Sure, Ladybug seemed to be running off pretty quickly after each battle lately, but that wasn’t super out of character… If only she’d been able to get closer to the fighting, she might know what was going on! “I know that Ladybug really values you as her partner, she’s made that really clear in the past. If you’re worried that she thinks you’re not pulling your weight, I’m sure she’d be the first person to tell you --”

“That’s not it!” He broke in, anguished. “I -- I’m kind of a shut-in in my civilian life. My d-parents are really overprotective, so I don’t get to leave the house much, and I guess I’m kind of clueless socially. I thought that I was… I thought that I was just flirting, but I… I’ve been harassing Ladybug and I think she’s scared of me, and I don’t know what to do to fix it, because I can’t just apologize --” his breaths were coming faster and faster.

Being friends with Marinette, as much as that had gone south lately, Alya knew how to deal with a panic attack. She rested her hands firmly on Chat Noir’s shoulders. “Listen to me, you need to breathe with me. Can you do that? In… and out. In… and out. In… and out. Just focus on breathing. In… and out.” She could think about how strange this was, and how in over her goddamn head she was later. She kept up a steady stream of soothing words until Chat Noir’s stabbing, choppy breaths had leveled off.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to get you anything?” She looked at the superhero, worried.

“I’m… I’m fine. I just need advice. How do I fix this?”

Alya paused. “Well, I’m not sure exactly what happened, but you’re her partner and I’m sure that you can come back from this. It may not be easy, or fast, and the friendship that you have may never be quite the same as it was, but I think she’ll see you’re sincere. If things are as bad as you say they are, it might not be right away, or even soon, and you need to be okay with that. I’m… I’m sorry too. I’ve helped make it worse.”

Chat looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

Alya sighed. “The picture of the kiss from when you were battling Oblivio? She told me not to post it, but I did anyway.” She smiled ruefully. “It looks like quite a few of us have had trouble respecting her boundaries. Just, respect her opinion from here on in. Apologize, be sincere, and act in a way that shows that you’ve learned your lesson and you’ll never do something like that again. Don’t push her. If all you ever are to each other is fellow heroes from here on in, you need to make your peace with that. Okay?” She maintained eye contact with him, watching as tides of rolling emotions passed over his face.

“Thank you, Alya.” He finally said quietly. He paused. “Would it be possible to film an apology for the Ladyblog? I… I don’t know if any civilians have been close enough to see my behavior, but, just in case, I want them to know that I know that I was wrong and that the way I was acting isn’t something any of us should stand for.”

Alya offered him a bittersweet grin. “I think we can manage that.”

As Alya was setting up her equipment for the video, a thought struck her. “Hey Chat, if you don’t mind me asking, I mean, I’m grateful that you trusted me enough to come to ask me for advice, but, I was wondering, why didn’t you go to Lila? I mean, you’re so much closer to her, and the girl’s aunt is a world-renowned counselor, surely she could have given you better advice?”

Chat was still distracted and fidgeting, unsure of what he was supposed to say on the video. Without seeming to think about it, he scoffed, “Why would I go to Lila? She lies like she breathes, and she hates Ladybug so much she tried her best to separate us when Onichan attacked.”

Alya sucked in a breath as if someone had punched her, and Chat seemed to realize what he had said. “ Shit, shit, forget I ever said that Alya!”

Alya’s voice was small and deadly. “Why?”

“I mean,” he looked unsure, “She’s been akumatized three times already and M’Lady is pretty sure that two of those were willingly, and every time someone calls her out on her lies it happens again, and I’m sure if we just give her a chance to get better on her own it would be better than telling everyone she’s lying and just getting her akumatized again.”

Alya was having trouble processing. “Wait. You said she was akumatized three times? Wasn’t she only akumatized twice.”

Seeming resigned, Chat shook his head. “You remember Heroes day? Before Hawkmoth turned himself into Scarlet Moth, he gave everyone in Paris negative feelings by showing them that illusion. That was Volpina. And,” his eyes darted back and forth, “I mean, this is speculation, but Hawkmoth can only akumatize one person at a time, and he wasn’t active as Scarlet Moth yet, and M’Lady and I never purified Volpina that day… which means he must have called back the akuma himself…” his voice got quieter “which means she might have… been akumatized willingly.”

Her world was spinning. If that was true, it would mean… “What have I done?”

Chat looked over at her, puzzled at the horror she was sure was etched all over her face. “Alya? What’s wrong?”

Did he really not understand? Okay, Cesaire, calm down. He’d said he was sheltered, but damn this was pushing it. Still, he had come to her, so she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. “Did you really think that it would be better to let her keep lying?”

“I mean, I guess? She’s not really hurting anyone, and she’ll never get better if we don’t give her a chance?”

A scoff broke out before she could hold it back. “Sorry, but…” she thought for a moment before it hit her. “How does Hawkmoth make akumas?”

“He uses people’s negative emotions.”

“Exactly. Look, I know that you’re a superhero and you wouldn’t know this, but… well, Lila’s in my class at school. If what you’re telling me is true, she’s been lying to us since she got there. And… those lies have had consequences. I mean, the Ladyblog is the prime source of akuma alerts and information. If it got out that I’d posted false information,” she winced, “people might not trust my blog anymore, and it wouldn’t be able to serve its function. I’ve wanted to be a journalist my entire life, Chat Noir. If I lose people’s trust in my journalistic integrity… that’s almost the worst thing I can imagine.” She took a deep and bracing breath. “I say almost the worst, because,” she paused, clenching her fists, “something worse has already happened. You probably don’t know her, but my… best friend, her name is Marinette. God, because I didn’t want to believe Lila was lying, I don’t know if I even have the right to call her that anymore. I shouted at her on Lila’s behalf and insulted and… bullied her, these past few weeks. Lila told us all such ugly lies about her, and I believed her. Forget the blog, what kind of negative emotions do you think I’m feeling right now, knowing that I might have ruined the first, most meaningful friendship I made in Paris?” She was crying, she realized.

He looked shocked. “I… I never thought about it that way.”

She wiped the tears out of her eyes almost violently. “It looks like we both have a lot to make up for. Now, let’s get started.”

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#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #ml au #ml redemption #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #chloenette #fox!chloe #reine ruse #reine ruse au #ml fic #my fics

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