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sarcasmandships · 3 years

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honey and glass part 2 ~ spencer reid

i move to new york but i can’t seem to escape spencer reid

spencer reid x reader angst + hurt/comfort (sorta, it’s all in first person but with no names/no specific descrptions)

word count: 15.4k (got a bit carried away lol)

read part 1 here!

disclaimer: i do not ship jeid or think they had any chemistry but it’s a good opportunity for angst x

it’s snowing in new york.

i groan internally, resting my head in my hand as i stare out the window.

it’s half past six and most of my co-workers have already left for the night, but i’m still trying to mentally prepare myself to venture out in the cold.

“hey!” agent cole greets me as he flops into his chair at the desk next to mine, a mountain of papers in his arms.

“hey,” i mumble in response, “you’ve got a small rainforest there,” i motion with my head to the folders he has now spread across his desk.

“yeah, the bishop is laying it on me thick this week. you make one mistake in this place and its paperwork, paperwork, paperwork for a month. i need to get through this by lunchtime tomorrow.”

i pause and glance out the window again. i really hate the cold.

“i can give you a hand if you want-”

i’m about to suggest that he hand me over half of his files, but before i know it agent cole is leaping to his feet and flinging on his coat, “you are a lifesaver let me tell you that, god bless fitz for bringing you over from quantico!”

he’s scooping up the folders in his arms and dumping them onto my desk.

“oh! i meant that-”

“thanks again, really appreciate it!” agent cole cheers and before i can protest he’s already past the double glass doors and clambering into the elevator, he gives me a wave as the doors slide closed in front of him.

“no problem…” i say to myself.

i shuffle into the breakroom and put on a fresh pot of coffee, i’m going to need it. i fill up a mug and envelop my hands around it as i sit back down at my desk, the heat from the coffee warms my numb fingers enough to hold a pen between them. i make a start on agent cole’s paperwork.

it’s a few hours and many cups of bitter coffee later when agent fitz appears from his office, he’s wrapping a thick, wool, scarf around his neck when he passes my desk and pauses.

“you’re still here?”

“yeah…paperwork,” i say, pointing to the pile of folders i don’t even seem to have made a dent in.

he raises an eyebrow, “your file said you were efficient, but i didn’t think that even you had the ability to fill out paperwork on cases we haven’t even worked yet.”

i laugh nervously, “what do you mean, sir?”

“well, my role as assistant unit chief to agent bishop involves ensuring that all agents are up to date with their paperwork, so i know that all of your cases have been written up, reviewed and filed. so you either have some kind of psychic ability that allows you to predict your future cases and do their paperwork, or this isn’t yours.”

i can’t tell from his tone whether he is annoyed or amused.

“right,” i nod slowly, “see the thing is sir, agent cole had all of this paperwork to do and i offered to help him, only he thought i was offering to-”

“to take it all?”

“yes, exactly. agent fitz, sir.”

he takes a sharp intake of breath in through his nose, “i think that agent cole knew fine well what you meant.”

“what? then why would he-”

“can i give you some advice?”

“y-yes. of course, agent fitz. go ahead.”

“you’re a very nice person, but you’ve been here six months now so you don’t need to worry about making a good first impression anymore-”

“i’m not,” i say defensively, “i just wanted to help out a fellow agent, we used to do it at the bau all the time-”

he gives me a look.

“sorry for interrupting agent fitz, sir.”

“you’re not in quantico anymore honey, this is new york. so my advice to you is to stop being so nice, because i hate to be the one to break it to you but agent cole has taken advantage of your niceness big time here.”

“so your advice to me is to be mean because right now i’m too nice?”

“not mean, just firm. agent cole was given the extra paperwork as a consequence of his own actions, and because you’re too nice, you’re still at the office filling out reports while he’s relaxing at home.”

“be less nice, got it,” i nod and stare down at my hands, unable to believe that i fell for that, i’m supposed to be a profiler, “thank you, agent fitz,” i smile at him.

“just call me fitz, everyone does,” he says as he begins to unwind his scarf.

“what are you doing? you’ll freeze out there without that-”

“we’ll get through this in half the time if we split it,” he shrugs, “i’m gonna grab a coffee, do you want one?”

i jump to my feet, “it’s okay, i can get the coffee-”

“have you forgotten my advice already?”

i can feel the heat flooding to my face, “don’t be too nice, got it,” i sit back down again and twirl my pen.

“see, you’re learning,” he lifts my mug from my desk, “any cream or sugar?”

i shake my head.

he nods and moves into the breakroom.

i let out the breath i didn’t know i was holding. i’d been here sixth months, i thought i was finally fitting in. everything was different in new york, the way of working, the people, the humour. something that would’ve sent spencer into a fit of giggles back in virginia would only earn you a concerned stare here.

or maybe that was just spencer and i’s sense of humour, we got looks back in quantico too. but it was okay because i was with him. it had been six months and the promises of texts, phone calls, emails and letters had withered away.

jj was the only one i still regularly heard from, we called every week.

there was the occasional text from morgan, and garcia.

emails from hotch and rossi.

but from spencer, it was radio silence. i told myself it was because he was a technophobe, and he hated texting on that tiny little phone of his.

“the buttons are too small,” he’d complain.

yet my suggestion of him updating to a modern model was ‘out of the question’, i understood he didn’t like it, but i didn’t understand why he wouldn’t make the effort.

maybe i would’ve confronted him about it if i’d had the nerve, if i wasn’t too nice.

“there we are,” fitz says, placing a mug of steaming coffee in front of me.

“thank you, agen-,” i pause, “thank you fitz.”

he smiles and takes a pile of papers from my desk as he sits in agent cole’s seat.

too nice, the words echo in my head.

if i hadn’t been so intent on being the nice, sweet, helpful new girl i could be at home by now. granted my tiny apartment wasn’t much to go back to, but it was something. i had a chance for a fresh start here and i wanted to be the girl that people liked and respected. i wanted things to be different but i’m just as spineless as i’d been in qunatico.

all honey, no glass.

“you’re leaving?”

“yeah.”

“when?”

“two weeks.”

spencer gets up from the couch and storms away from me, he stares out the window, “so you’re leaving your job in the bau - one of the most sought-after jobs in the bureau - to work for the counter terrorism division in new york?”

he almost sneers ‘counter terrorism division’ at me and i’m taken aback. the spencer in front of me isn’t the spencer that i love, i close my eyes and tell myself that he’s just being defensive. i’ve known him long enough to recognise his abandonment issues.

“why are you saying counter terrorism like that? like it’s a step down for me? because it’s not. it’s better hours, better pay-”

“cost of living is higher in new york city!”

“and my new salary will be more than enough to cover it! they’re also helping me with moving expenses, helping me find an apartment – they really want me over there, spencer,” i run a hand through my hair, “do you know what that’s like for me? to have someone want me so much that they’d pay me 20% above the standard salary-”

“so this is about money for you then?” he says bitterly.

“no! it’s about someone valuing me and what i can do. it’s about someone thinking that i’m good enough and giving me the chance to prove that to myself.”

“and what, you think that we don’t value you?”

“i didn’t say that spencer, i’m just saying that i have a chance to excel over there and be a better agent. i’m a good profiler, but i’m not a great one, even you can see that. i’ll be happier when i’m finally in an environment where i don’t need to put myself down and compare myself to everyone around me.”

“please stay,” he pleads, “can’t you stay for me? everyone is leaving or dying. please, you can’t leave me too.”

spencer reid is standing in front of me with tears in his eyes begging me not to go, and i want nothing more than to rush to him and promise that i will never abandon him. if i hadn’t already signed a binding contract, i would probably be in his arms now.

i shake my head, “i’m sorry spencer, it’s already been decided. i’m only staying these extra two weeks to give hotch a chance to find someone else, i didn’t want you to be down two agents.”

spencer clenches his fist, “i can’t believe this is really happening. jj left, and now you’re leaving too. emily hasn’t even been dead a month and-”

“you think i don’t know that? you think i just forgot that emily died? you aren’t the only one suffering here spencer! agent fitz brought up transferring to me over a year ago, i called him up about it before jj left for the state department and i was meant to go to new york weeks ago!”

i close my eyes and take a shaky breath before i can bring myself to continue.

“and then emily died. and i stayed because we were all grieving and i wanted to be close to you guys, but i can’t put my life on hold forever, i can’t expect agent bishop and agent fitz to keep the job open for me forever, it’s time for me to go.”

“why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?”

“because emily’s death hit you really hard and i-”

“no, before that. you said that you were planning this before jj left, why did you wait so long?”

“because after i called agent fitz i needed to do interviews and go through another round of interviews and interrogations, they’re really strict on security over there. it took weeks for me to even find out if they would grant me the security clearance required for the job, i wanted to be sure i was going before i said anything. and then jj left, and i was getting ready to go when emily needed help with doyle, and i told myself i would stay for once more case and then-”

i have to stop because there’s a lump in my throat and my body is trembling. the memories of emily’s death are still so fresh in my mind, i want to curl up under a blanket and never come out when i think about her corpse, rotting away under the ground.

“please don’t go, i need you,” he says, not even trying to disguise the way his voice cracks.

i shake my head, “no you don’t.”

he doesn’t. he has morgan, and hotch, and garcia, and rossi. and most importantly jj. i know that when he’s not crying in my arms, he’s crying in hers. i know the only nights he chooses me over her are the nights when she’s busy with will, or henry or something classified at the all-mighty state department.

“yes, i do! you’re the only one who’s there for me 100% of the time, you’re the only person i can talk to about jj-”

the only person i can talk to about jj. there we go, that’s the reason he wants me to stay. i don’t know why i’m so surprised, or why it hurts so much to hear. i should be used to it by now.

“i can’t just hang around because you need a shoulder to cry on.”

i must’ve let more venom slip into my voice than i intended because spencer’s face drops immediately.

“i-i didn’t mean that, i just meant that you’re my best friend and i don’t know what i’ll do without you.”

best friend. i can’t bring myself to respond.

“is that what it is? are you leaving because of me? do you think that i don’t appreciate you, that i just think of you as a shoulder to cry on? because i don’t think that at all-”

“spencer, you haven’t done anything wrong, i’m not leaving because of you, okay?”

that’s a lie. and i hate lying to him, but he’s so busy pacing and running his hands through his hair that he doesn’t detect the guilt plastered across my face. spencer is the primary reason for my leaving, but not in the way that he thinks.

“are you sure?” he asks frantically, “have i done something to upset you? don’t you want to be my friend anymore-”

it’s ironic how spot on he is, whilst still being utterly oblivious to my feelings for him. i’m leaving because he unknowingly devastates me every day, i’m leaving because i don’t want to be just his friend, i want to be more but that can never happen.

because he still loves jj. and i know that i can never be happy sitting on the sidelines of his tortured longing. i’m only trying to do what’s best for myself, but when i look at the pained expression on his face i can’t help but feel like a selfish bitch, i’m abandoning him when he needs me most.

“look, spencer i’m moving to new york, not australia, it’s not even that far. And we can text, and call each other and email, we can even send good old-fashioned letters if you’d prefer. this isn’t the end of the world.”

“i think i could manage a text.”

“really?”

“yeah, i won’t like it. but i’d do it for you, like i said, you’re my best friend.”

“are you okay? you look kind of zoned out” fitz asks.

i place my phone down on my desk, “yeah i’m fine. it’s just…nevermind.”

“hey, come on. you can tell me.”

“i just got a call from my friend spencer, we worked together back in quantico but he wasn’t thrilled when i moved here and we never really kept up with texting or emails. i haven’t heard his voice since i left…i was just thinking about the day i told him i was leaving,” i drum my nails against my desk, “it was so long ago now, but it hurts like it was yesterday.”

“sounds like you guys were close,” he comments carefully.

“yeah, we were.”

“so what did he want?”

“um…him and my other old colleagues, they’re planning a surprise wedding for jj. she’s my best friend, she works with them too.”

“are you gonna go?” he pauses, trying to gauge my response, “i mean you haven’t been back to virginia since you took the job.”

i nod, “i know, i didn’t even go to see emily when she came back to life,” i say, my voice mixed with bitterness and guilt.

fitz reaches over and takes my hand, “and we prevented a potential biochemical attack that week, and a bomb in the subway the week after, and a potential hijacking the week after-”

i roll my eyes lightly, “i get the point, fitz. we’re always busy saving lives, but i don’t know if that’s a good enough excuse for being such a shitty friend.”

“they work even crazier hours than us, i think they’ll understand,” he pauses, “i also think that you’re making excuses, and there’s a different reason that you don’t want to go.”

“i thought i told you not to profile me.”

“it doesn’t take a profiler to figure out there’s something going on, i’m willing to bet it’s the same reason you wanted to leave in the first place.”

i smile sadly at him, “you got me there, fitz. i’m in love with my best friend, but he’s in love with the bride, who happens to be my other best friend. only he isn’t the groom.”

i feel sick at the thought of watching spencer watch jj get married. he is exceptionally good at pretending to be happy, and i’m sure he’ll have the others fooled. but none of them know that he’s in love with her, they don’t know that his feelings evolved to anything beyond a silly, little crush.

i feel sick at the thought of watching him slap a smile on his face, and shake will’s hand, and make a toast. i don’t doubt that there will be a part of him that is happy for her; the thing about loving someone the way i love him and he loves her is that is that seeing them happy gives you this sickly, jittery, joy.

it makes your heart race and your hands tremble, and it feels almost like happiness. but its sticky and catches in your throat like honey so you can barely choke out the words to convey how fucking happy you are for them. even honey attracts flies.

“shit,” fitz says.

“yeah, shit.”

all honey, no glass.

it’s jj’s wedding.

i wanted fitz to come with me but he couldn’t get out of work, we were swamped at the moment, but he’s still insisted that i go. he drove me to the airport and practically forced me through security, and now i was standing in the kitchen of rossi’s mansion as emily refilled my wine.

i took a sip of it and smiled at her. she was the one good thing that had come out of this trip so far, i hadn’t seen her since she came back from the dead and i had been so worried she would resent me for not coming to see her sooner.

but instead she offered to pick me up from the airport and let me stay with her for the weekend, she really was a good friend. i missed my old friends, and it was nice to see everyone again. but i was already exhausted from avoiding spencer and jj hadn’t even arrived yet.

i was drinking my wine far too fast, relishing in the warm euphoria it granted me. it allows me to float through the rest of the evening, i help jj pin up her hair when her mom brings her own wedding dress for her to change into. i wipe her tears when she stares at herself in the mirror. i tell her she looks beautiful, and she really does.

i don’t speak to spencer until the ceremony is about to begin, i squeeze in next to him and mumble my hellos. he doesn’t respond and i know it’s because he’s focusing all of his energy on keeping himself together, i wrap my hand around his and squeeze it gently.

he has tears in his eyes when will and jj kiss, and so do i because i am watching him watch her and i can see his heart breaking with every micro expression. my heart aches for him because his world is falling apart in front of his eyes and he has to pretend to be happy about it.

when jj turns her head i see how widely she is grinning as she clings on to her new husband. spencer sees it too because something in him shifts and i see that sticky, artificial happiness bubble to the surface and before i know it he has dropped my hand and rushes to congratulate the happy couple.

i hang around emily and morgan for most of the night, she keeps my glass full and he doesn’t tease me about my defecting to another division. i know they know something is going on, but they don’t question me about it and i am so grateful for it.

i excuse myself from their company when i see spencer sitting slumped on the patio alone. he’s half hidden behind a pillar but i can see his feet sticking out so i shuffle over to him, my mind dizzy with wine as i take a seat beside him.

“hey.”

“are you alright?” i ask.

he nods stiffly, “fine, just tired – it’s been a busy week. how are things in new york?”

i sip my wine, “yeah not bad, just busy…” i say, my voice trails off and i mentally kick myself for failing to think of a better word, “spencer, can i ask you something?”

“yeah,” he says flatly, “why not.”

“okay…” his dulcet exterior makes me hesitate but i force myself to continue, because fitz told me to grow a backbone and i don’t know when i’ll get that chance again, “i was just wondering why you never called me, or texted, or emailed. we were best friends before i left and now you feel like a stranger to me.”

he shrugs and takes a swig of beer.

“is that all i’m gonna get? a shrug,” i scoff.

i know that he’s upset about jj, my heart is bleeding for him and i understand better than anyone how he is feeling. but even i can see that i deserve more than a shrug from him after a year of no communication.

“spencer, i know how you’re feeling but-”

“no you don’t,” he snaps.

i bite my tongue.

“i want to be here for you spencer, but i can’t do that if you’re going to be a mood-”

he titled his head to look at me, his eyes are dark and empty, “if you wanted to help me so badly then why did you leave?”

i open my mouth to speak but he raises a hand to silence me.

“you want to know why i didn’t call you?” he slurs, “because i was pissed at you, everyone was leaving and dying, and you left too. and then emily came back and everyone was acting like i was crazy for being so angry about it, and you weren’t here,” his voice splits, “i know it’s not an excuse and i’m sorry if i upset you but not having you here just hurt so bad and somehow texting and phone calls made it hurt more.”

i pause, “are you trying to say you missed me so much that you couldn’t call me?”

“like i said, its not an excuse but-”

“no, it isn’t” i spit.

i’ve never been angry at him before because any of the hurt and heartbreak he inflicted on me was unintentional. but now something is burning in the pit of my stomach because he ghosted me for the best part of the year and the best excuse, he can come up with is that it hurt him too bad.

“how do you think i felt spencer?” i hiss, “when i was all alone in another state and my best friend wouldn’t return my calls? i spent so long feeling guilty for leaving you but you weren’t alone. you still had everyone else, i was the one who was alone. you had jj and-”

his grip on his bottle tightened, “i didn’t have her, she was lying to me about emily and then even when we made up from that things were never the same…” he holds his head in his hands, “i’m trying to be happy for her but it just hurts so much…”

he wipes his eyes, “i’m sorry, i should be asking you about new york, not making you listen to the same pathetic sob story that you’ve heard a hundred time before.”

i wrap an arm around him, “spencer, trust me i know how much it hurts but…it’ll get better, okay? one day you’ll get over her, and you find some genius, scientist girlfriend who loves you back and then you won’t hurt anymore.”

“how do you know?” he croaks.

i sigh, “because you might love jj but she just isn’t right for you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone who-”

he shakes his head, “not that, you keep saying you understand, and you know hoe much it hurts – but how do you know?”

his eyes are wide and teary, and he hiccups as he stares at me. i have to look away because the blood is pounding in my ears, i feel dizzy but its not just from the wine. we’re outside in the cool air but i feel like i’m burning up and i recoil away from him.

“spencer, that’s not important-”

“yes, it is. i wanna know. i wanna know how you think you know how i feel to the extent you can give me advice-”

he’s drunk.

“and tell me its all going to be okay, but you don’t know that! because how could you know what i’m feeling-”

he’s raising his voice now.

“spencer, you need to be quiet. someone will hear you-”

“i need to know what gives you the right to tell me that i’ll find love when you don’t even know what-”

“i know what it feels like because i am in love with you!” i finally snap, the words slip out before i can stop them and i slap my hands over my mouth, “oh god…i didn’t mean to say that….”

spencer is staring at me blankly, but slowly his stoic expression begins to melt into one of pity and sympathy. i can see his brain working overtime behind his beautiful honey and glass eyes, thinking of all the different ways he can let me down easy.

he opens his mouth.

“you don’t have to say anything,” i squeak, “i didn’t mean to say that…so stupid…can we please just forget about it?” i plead.

“d-did you mean it? you love me?”

his pitiful stare burns through me and i can’t stand it. i would rather have him glare at me with pure hatred in his eyes than this agonizing brand of sympathy, it makes me feel sick. my legs are shaking, my hands are shaking, my whole body is shaking and i realise it’s because my chest is racked with sobs.

i nod, “i-i mean it,” is all i manage to choke out.

his arms are wrapped around me, and in any other circumstance i would sink into them but now my body is rigid, and his embrace is suffocating. i can’t breathe.

i can’t breathe.

i can’t breathe under the crushing impact of knowing that i’ve fucked up a decade of friendship in less than five seconds because i couldn’t keep my emotions under control.

“i’m so sorry, you know that i care so much about you,” he says softly, “but i just don’t see you in that way-”

“it’s fine spencer,” i sniffle, “you don’t need to tell me that, i’m already well aware of that fact,” my voice is laced with far more venom than i tend but in this moment i can’t bring myself to care.

“how long?”

i’m laughing through the tears, i don’t know why because its not funny.

“ten years, give or take.”

“oh.”

oh. that’s all i get.

they say that when a burn is bad enough it incinerates the nerve endings, so you don’t feel any pain. a burst of excruciating agony and then nothingness. that’s how i feel, i’ve spent years wallowing in my own heartbreak and now that i’ve told him the truth, i just feel numb.

my sticky, sweet exterior is melting away with every passing second and pitiful glance and i don’t think i want to see what’s underneath. i push spencer’s arms off my body, and he doesn’t protest.

i sneak through the double glass doors and into the kitchen, that’s where the wine is. it warms my throat and my stomach, proving some solace from the deep-seated chill i feel in my bones.

the lights of the kitchen reflect off the glass so much that i can’t see past the glare to tell if spencer is still there. i shuffle towards the doors and press my forehead against the cool glass. spencer is gone but i like the way the window feels against my skin.

its smooth, and hard, and cold.

when your world has fallen apart, anything can be a source of comfort. and i don’t have anything left to give, so i close my eyes and rest against the chilled surface.

no honey, all glass.

the office is swarming with new recruits, they’ve descended on us like plagues of locusts and i am not in the mood for it. they’re eager and naïve as they attentively takes note of agent bishop’s words.

“…now I don’t want you to think that counter terrorism is all like what you see in the movies,” he drawls, “its not all action and defusing bombs, its patience and paperwork, careful observation and analysis – it takes more discipline to work in this division than any other in the bureau. its hard work, but it’s worth it as agents tell you,” he says, indicating towards fitz and myself.

he gives them a determined nod, i muster up a half-hearted shrug from my position leaning against the filing cabinet in the corner. i’m really not in the mood.

bishop’s phone chimes and his brow furrows ash his eyes scan the screen, “it is also unpredictable at times, so you’ll have to excuse me. but i leave you in the capable hands of my two right hand agents, they’ll be more than happy to lead the rest of the seminar,” he gives us both a quick nod before he darts out of the room.

fitz moves to the center of the room, “well, agent bishop had pretty much covered the lecture section of the session. next we are going to move onto some basic training scenarios, i will outline a situation and if you think have a strategy just shout it out, how does that sound?”

he is talking to the trainees but looking at me, he fidgets with his collar. he’s nervous, and he’s waiting for me to give him some reassurance. i force the corners of my lips to curl upwards, and it seems to give him enough confidence to continue.

he uses the remote to change the slides on the projector screen behind him and begins to list scenarios. the newbies are falling over themselves to catch his attention long enough for him to call on them. their enthusiasm and passion should inspire me, but it makes something in my stomach twist and there’s sharp anger burning through my body.

they’re all so fucking happy. so eager to see what their years at the bureau will bring them. all i got was heartbreak and rejection, but i don’t think agent bishop would appreciate me saying that so i keep my lips tightly pressed together.

“…and then i would diffuse the bomb and-”

“you would what?” i say.

the recruit shrinks back slightly when he feels my unwavering gaze shift to him.

“the scenario agent fitz gave us involved an explosive device, so my strategy would be to diffuse the-”

“that’s what the bomb squad is for, your job is to prevent the threat before it can occur, not to play around snipping wires!”

“i worked explosive ordinance disposal in the army, i would know what i was doing-”

“you aren’t in the army anymore,” i snap, “you’re in the fbi now, and we don’t have our agents running around like headless chickens during an active terrorist threat because we have rules and when you don’t follow the, people get hurt!”

“but what if the bomb squad can’t get there? surely if he has experience-” the girl next to him tries to defend him but i hold up a hand to silence her.

i laugh sarcastically, “okay. let me tell you what, next time we have a terrorism threat involving explosives i’ll tell the bomb squad that we don’t need them because i have two rookie agents who want to do things their own way. anything you’d like me to tell your families after you blow yourselves up, likely taking dozens of civilians with you?”

when they don’t answer me i give a smug smirk, “that’s what i thought,” i look over to fitz and nod, “you’ll have to excuse me, they’ve rotted my brain enough for one day,” i say before sweeping out of the room.

“why is she so mean?” the female recruit asks when she thinks i’m out of earshot.

i can feel agent fitz hesitate and i don’t blame him. i wouldn’t know how to explain to a group of trainees that i’ve been a complete bitch today because i’m bitter and heartbroken.

“she isn’t mean,” he says slowly, “she’s hard on you because she wants you to learn; its life and death out in the field and you need to be ready for anything. there’s no time for niceness and if you’re expecting that, then you’re probably in the wrong job.”

i appreciate his lie.

he makes me sound noble.

the trainees nod at his words, their eyes wide as they feed into the seamless bullshit. the stoic and honorable agent makes a better story than the resentful shrew.

i don’t want to be this way. but spencer’s words echo in my head and the breath is knocked out of me every time i picture his face, i feel like i’m drowning. it’s a dull, crushing ache across my body, weighing my limbs down like there’s lead in my veins.

i want to be honey; golden and sweet but i’m all angles and sharp edges. i’ve broken like glass and it’s only a matter of time before i draw blood. it’s easy to push people away when they’re scared of getting cut.

“are you okay?”

i jump as agent fitz creeps up behind me.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to startle you. but you haven’t been yourself and i just wanted to check-”

“are you scared of blood?” i ask.

“what?”

“blood. does it freak you out? make you feel faint?”

“no, i’m not scared of blood,” he says hesitantly.

i smile and for the first time in forever it doesn’t feel forced, “good.”

no honey, all glass.

it’s agent bishop’s retirement party.

i stand next to fitz, we’re in a circle with some of the other agents. i glug my wine as they converse, its dark and bitter and red.

“so, agent, you used to be a profiler down in quantico, didn’t you?” someone asks.

i swallow my wine, “yes, i was. that was a while ago now though.”

“do you miss it?”

i smile fondly, “every day.”

“isn’t profiling just pseudoscience?” someone snorts.

before i can even open my mouth to respond, fitz interjects, “actually the bau is one of the most successful departments in the bureau, they are responsible for saving hundreds of lives and allowing families to seek the justice they deserve.”

i nod appreciatively at him, “behavioural science isn’t empirical but more often than not we are right, like agent fitz said, we -they- are one of the most successful departments in the bureau,” i say, trying to fight the smirk creeping across my face.

“how does profiling work, can you really catch someone based on the method of killing they chose?” someone gushes.

“yes, we can tell a lot from victimology, signatures, cause of death – it’s usually symbolic in some way of their motivation for killing, or metaphorical for a message that they want to send, you’d be surprised how much we can learn from details like that.”

“interesting!”

“oh, that’s cool.”

“i didn’t know you guys did stuff like that, i might need to put in for a transfer!”

everyone laughs.

i give a half-hearted chuckle. all of my stories and experiences at the bau are tainted by him, i can’t even make light conversation at a party without my body turning numb. every memory chips away at my heart, and it’s growing more and more hollow with every beat.

“i think you need another drink,” fitz whispers in my ear.

i allow him to take my hand and lead me into the kitchen, he tops up my wine, filling it more than he probably should. but i appreciate him for it, i think he can tell i need it.

“are you okay? you clammed up right after you finished talking about your time at the bau.”

“i’ve told you before, don’t profile me,” i say, my voice sharper than i intend it to be.

“i’m not. i’ve just noticed than whenever you talk about your old job you get this look in your eyes, and you go all quiet and snap at everyone for the rest of the day.”

i drink a quarter of my wine in one gulp.

“this is still about him isn’t it?”

i shrug, “i thought i’d be over him by now but…” my eyes start to prickle and i have to console myself with another mouthful of wine.

“but?” he prompts.

“you know how jj and i call each other every week.”

“yeah.”

“well this week she told me that the rest of the team are starting to suspect spencer is…seeing someone. i don’t know the whole story, jj didn’t either. but apparently he’s been acting weird and making all these phone calls and i-”

i have to stop. i bite the inside of my cheek. he got over jj and i didn’t even know. i wasn’t even there, maybe if i hadn’t left…it hurt too much to consider the possibilities. and now there’s another woman that i don’t know anything about, at least when he was in love with jj i knew what aspects of myself to compare to her. now i’m jealous of a woman i’ve never even met.

“do you want to talk about it?” he offers kindly.

i shake my head.

“…can i ask you something else?”

“shoot.”

he looks over his shoulder and i can see his jugular vein pulse in his neck, he’s nervous.

“earlier, when you were talking about how killers leave symbolic or metaphorical clues that helps you figure out their motivation….”

i motion for him to continue.

“is that true for normal people too?”

“what do you mean?”

he runs a hand through his hair, “say you have a friend, and they as you a weird question, but it’s so out of the blue you it can’t be literal, that there has to be a deeper meaning behind it. if their question is symbolic for something else, could that indicate what their intentions are?”

he avoids eye contact with me.

“what’s this about?”

“n-nothing, nevermind. it was a stupid question anyways…” he mumbles, grabbing his beer and shuffling past me.

“fitz, come back!” i call after him, “fitz!”

he’s already gone. and i don’t have the energy to go after him. i huff and lean back against the counter, swirling around the wine in my glass before i raise it to my lips.

my hand slips, and the wine glass tumbles to the ground before shattering against the white kitchen tiles.

“fuck!”

i rake around a couple of drawers, searching for a dish towel to mop up the mess. eventually i find one and bend down to clean up the wine; the red is stark, splattered against the shiny white background.

it looks like...

“are you scared of blood?”

the words of my own cryptic question echo in my head and something clicks.

fitz.

i use a towel to scoop up the shards of glass and absorb the wine, i toss it in the sink and dash out of the kitchen in search of fitz. i spot the back of his head through a window and follow him out to the balcony, its lit by twinkly fairy lights.

“why are you out here? it’s cold,” i say, my teeth chattering slightly as i fold my arms across my chest.

i linger by the door, hoping to cling onto some of the warmth radiating outwards. but when fitz doesn’t answer, or even look up i huff and close the door behind me, shuffling over to him.

“were you asking me that stuff about metaphors and symbolism because of what i said to you about blood?”

he looks up at me but still doesn’t speak.

“fitz that was months ago, and i didn’t even mean anything by it so i don’t know why you’re reading so far into it,” i shiver, “can you just tell me what’s going on with you so we can go back inside?”

“what’s wrong with me,” he snorts.

“yes, because you’re acting really weird-”

“i’m not the one who is acting weird, ever since you came back from your friend’s wedding you’ve been like a totally different person, and then you ask me if i’m scared of blood out of fucking nowhere. what am i supposed to make of that?”

i’m taken aback from his sudden outburst, fitz is usually calm and good natured, “why are you yelling?” i snap.

“because i don’t know what else to do, i’ve tried to be a supportive friend but you’re acting totally out of character, the new recruits call you medusa because you’re so harsh on them. if this has something to do with spen-”

“i said i don’t want to talk about him!”

“well i’m not giving you the choice anymore, i’m sorry if you’re heartbroken over him, but you’re killing yourself trying to love him. do you think i don’t notice how exhausted you are? you’re working at least 30 extra hours a week and i can only assume that’s some kind of coping mechanism, and now i’m worried you’re hurting yourself-”

i squint at him, “you think that’s what i meant when i asked you about the blood?”

he nods, “well, yeah. i didn’t think you were killing people but you’re obviously angry and sad and i figured you might have needed an outlet for that-”

“yeah, i do, it’s called kickboxing fitz! i beat the shit out of a punchbag three times a week, the blood thing was…” i groan and sit down on the bench, “you’re right, i did change after jj’s wedding because i was scared of feeling hurt like that again so i thought if i toughened up and stopped being so nice and sweet then people wouldn’t be able to hurt me anymore, but…”

“but?”

“but then i realised that by being so sharp and harsh all the time then people wouldn’t want to be around me and i would be hurt all over again, and i just thought that if i made sure you would always stand by me then i’d be okay.”

he looks up, his eyebrows slightly less furrowed than before, “so, the blood thing was a metaphor for me always being on your side? cos’ if it is you don’t even have to worry about that, of course i’ll-”

i throw my arms around him and he squeezes me tightly in return, burying my face in his chest i blink back tears because the reassurance from my new best friend lifts a weight from my shoulders. but it’s a bittersweet feeling because i know he accepts it, but he doesn’t understand it; with spencer i never would’ve had to explain my enigmatic words.

with spencer i never even would’ve had to say them because he would just know. fitz is great and we make such an efficient team because we move in tandem like magnets; i move, he moves, but we’re always one behind the other. with spencer we were in sync like planets circling the sun, pulled together by an intangible force strong enough to construct a universe. at least that’s how it felt.

with spencer, we were in sync until we weren’t.

no honey, all glass.

i know that spencer and i are out of sync because when he comes to the city to deliver a guest lecture at nyu, he doesn’t even tell me.

fitz does.

he brings it up to me hesitantly after a meeting one day. since agent bishop retired, he is the new head of the counter terrorism division, and i’ve been promoted to his old job. we have tactical meetings every week with the heads of the three field offices in the state of new york to discuss any potential threat.

this week’s meeting was particularly taxing so when everyone leaves the conference room i just want to go for my lunch break, but fitz stops me to ask if i was aware spencer was in the city.

“no,” i say through gritted teeth, “i wasn’t, how do you know?”

he busies himself with some files, “i’ve been monitoring the movements of all agents coing in and out of the city-”

“why? do you think somethings wrong?”

he hesitates and loosens his tie, “i don’t know yet…i’m working on it, but i noticed that dr reid had a scheduled visit.”

“oh,” i say and try to force myself to wait an acceptable amount of time before questioning, “what’s he here for?”

my voice comes out dry and croaky despite my best efforts to appear unbothered, fitz ignores it and carries on as though nothing had happened.

“he’s giving a guest lecture to a criminology class at nyu, something about profiling…i don’t know,” he looks at his watch, “if you left now you could make it in time, professor van der woodson is a friend of mine, show her your creds and she’d let you sit in.”

i’m pulling on my coat before fitz has finished speaking, “wait…we have that meeting with that financial analyst today, he said he’d found a suspicious pattern of payments that could indicate a-”

fitz waves me off, “i got it, you go.”

i smile at him appreciatively before grabbing my bag and dashing out the door. it’s pouring with rain and it takes me forever to hail a cab, i sit in the back seat wringing out my hair with my scarf as we wait behind an immovable wall of traffic.

the cab crawls along the grid locked streets as i check my watch every two seconds, time is moving at half speed. by the time the driver pulls up outside by by the time the driver pulls ups at nyu i’m sure spencer’s lecture will already be over. i huff and trudge inside the building anyway, i’m chilled to the bone as i a buy myself a coffee from the cafe and find an empty seat to perch on.

i drum my fingers against the table as i sip the scorching hot coffee, i don’t really know what i’m expecting to happen. i haven’t seen or spoken to spencer since jj’s wedding, and at whisper of him being in the city i’ve spent the best part of an hour in the back of a taxi to see him. now that i’m here, i’m not sure that i want to see him.

classes are beginning to finish and the entrance hall floods with students, the volume level increases tenfold and i don’t want to be here anymore. i grab my coffee in my hand and make my way back to the front entrance when i hear a familiar voice call my name. i turn my head and i see him, he raises an eyebrow at me and begins fighting his way through the sea of students.

i freeze.

he’s getting closer with every second.

i don’t want to be here.

i don’t want to do this.

i don’t want to see him.

i turn on my heel and i powerwalk, the front door his jammed with students and if i take that route i’ll get suck and he’ll catch up to me. i spy a doorway to my left and dart towards it, breathing in a sigh of relief when i push through it and find an abandoned corridor.

“wait!”

spencer is still in pursuit. i groan but pause in my tracks as i turn around to face him.

“are you running away from me?”

i fold my arms over my chest, “no.”

“really? because that’s what it looked like.”

“i’ve told you before to wear your glasses, if you don’t then-”

“i’m wearing contacts,” he says softly as he takes a step towards me, “i can see perfectly clearly and you’re running away.”

he reaches out an arm to touch my shoulder but i flinch away, he look of hurt that spreads across his face would be enough to break my heart if he hadn’t already shattered it.

he swallows and pulls on the cuffs of his blazer, i can tell that i’ve upset him but i don’t have the words to console him. this had been a horrible mistake. i’d dreamt of seeing him again every night since the wedding, i ran over and over again in my head what i would say and do. i never imagined that i’d be soaked to the skin and standing in front of him in a corridor lit by flickering, fluorescent lights.

“okay, so i ran away, so what?”

spencer shakes his head, “do i really make you that uncomfortable? your body language is closed off, you keep looking at the door and tapping your foot…you really don’t want to see me…so why are you here?”

i have to look away from him, “i made a mistake coming here, i don’t want to see you.”

“is this about what happened at jj’s wed-”

i hold up a hand to cut him off, “please don’t,” i screw my eyes shut, “i’ve had to relive that moment enough in my nightmares, i don’t want to do it again for real.”

“i’m sorry, i never wanted go hurt you. i just don’t fee-”

“you don’t feel that way, i get it spencer. its fine,” i look at my watch, “there’s a meeting that i really should be at…i’m sorry spencer this was a mistake, please can we just forget about this-”

“do you still love me?” he asks quietly.

i laugh.

“what’s so funny?”

“well, it isn’t funny i suppose,” i say bitterly, “it just makes me laugh that you think i could ever stop.”

“so…that’s a yes?”

“of course it’s a yes!” i look at my feet as i speak because i don’t want to see whatever pitiful look he’s giving me, “you’re my first love spencer reid, i’m always going to love you.”

i take a shaky breath and look up to the ceiling, trying to hold back my tears.

he stares at me sadly, and i know i’ve really fucked things up between us when even dr spencer reid can’t think of something to say. there’s a stagnant awkwardness and i want nothing more than to be hiding under my duvet, but this might be my only chance to get everything off my chest.

“i will always love you spencer, but i’m not in love with you anymore.”

“there’s a difference?” he says with a hint of ice in his voice that makes me flinch.

“of course there is, i love you but it’s not the same suffocating and overwhelming love i felt for you years ago. i love you but i don’t want to burst into tears whenever i see you glance at jj. i love you but i’m free from hating myself and wondering why i could never be good enough for you,” i don’t even try to hide the tears now, “spencer i used to love you so much that i couldn’t breathe, but now i can breathe on my own.”

“i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, “i didn’t know…i didn’t know i made you feel that way, if i had then i’d have-”

“you wouldn’t have done anything spencer because you didn’t feel the same, and that’s okay. you would’ve just avoided me and given me the same pitiful look you’re giving me right now which i can’t fucking stand.”

i sniffle and run a hand through my hair, “i wanted to be there for you spencer, i thought you deserved someone that loves you like you love jj, and you still do. but i can’t be that person anymore, i love you spencer but you aren’t healthy for me.”

“i never asked you to do that for me.”

“not in so many words, but when you would show up at my apartment crying over jj or emily or tobias hankel or your mother…it didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you needed someone, and i loved you so much i was willing to put your needs above my own.”

he looks at his feet.

“i don’t blame you for that spencer, i didn’t value myself very much back then and i thought that loving you was the most important job in the world,” i tug at the sleeves of my sweater, “but now i know that loving myself is the only thing that matters.”

he doesn’t say anything, he just shuffles towards and me envelops my body in a gentle embrace. i’m crying into his chest and judging by his sniffles and shaky breaths, he’s crying too. he holds me tentatively like he he’s scared i’ll shatter in his arms if he squeezes too tight.

i realise he still sees me as fragile and brittle.

no honey, all glass.

i’m finally beginning to feel like my life is coming together.

today felt like a good day.

i woke up before my alarm, had time to make myself a decent breakfast, and didn’t have to sprint to catch the subway. i got to work early and the coffee machine i had ordered had arrived, i made myself a cup of steaming coffee as i relaxed behind my desk and checked my emails. i had a light day ahead of me and thankfully no meetings.

today felt like a good day until fitz burst into my office as half past eight and slammed the door behind him.

i leapt to my feet, immediately expecting the worst, “what’s going on? is there a bomb? hijacking? what is it?”

he waves me off, “no, nothing like that,” his eyes dart between me and windows that look out over the rest of the office, he pulls down the blinds and shuffles over to my desk, “do you remember a few months ago i said that i had been monitoring the movements of agents in and out of the city?”

“how could i forget?” i say bitterly as i am reminded of the painful encounter i had with spencer, “what does that have to do with anything?”

he swallows and sits down in the chair across from my desk, “i noticed that a few of our confidential code names for active and inactive investigations were cropping up in a few of the internet servers that we monitor, so-”

“so, you were tracking the movement of agents because you suspect a mole,” i finish for him.

he nods, “at first they were names of investigations that were well known within the bureau or easy to access with a low security clearance, so it could’ve been anyone, but i’ve been supplying different code names for made up investigations to different divisions across the bureau….”

“and you’ve seen those names continuing to appear in the servers,” i run my hand through my hair, “fuck, this is bad. does internal affairs know?”

he rests his head in his hands, “it’s worse than bad, because i kept a record of which names i gave to which departments because they were all unique, and the names that came up in the servers were only given to our division.”

my heart skips a beat. he was right, this was worse than just bad. this could be catastrophic, other departments in the bureau could gain access to some of our more low-level investigations. but only members of the counter terrorist division had access to the most potent and prolific threats, if we had a mole in our department then we could be looking at disaster of epic proportions.

i collapse into my own chair, “d-do you have any idea who it is?”

he shakes his head, “no, i’ve been nagging the director about it for months but i never got a proper response until this morning, he’s sending a team to conduct an internal investigation…” he looks up at me, his eyes filled with worry and pity.

i realise what he is too afraid to say.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“i’m sorry, i thought they would just send someone from internal affairs, but the director feels that for someone to infiltrate our department then they must be highly trained and-”

“its fine, i get it, catching the mole is the most important thing right now,” i drum my nails against my desk, “that doesn’t mean i’m overjoyed at the thought of my old team crawling about the place and questioning our every decision.”

fitz reaches across my desk and squeezes my hand, “it’ll be okay, they’ll clear you right away and then you can get on with work, you don’t have to spend anymore time with them than necessary.”

“you mean anymore time with him than necessary,” i gulp my coffee and i don’t even flinch when it burns my throat, “when are they arriving?”

“an hour or so, they’re already on their way here and it’s a short flight,” he sighs, “it will just depend on how much traffic they hit on their way over, but we’re-”

“close to the airport, i know,” i bite my lip, “what do we tell everyone, they’re gonna start arriving soon,” i say, pulling up my sleeve to look at my watch.

its nearer nine now, and the office will start filling up soon with agents ready to start their day. there’s over a hundred agents in the counter terrorism division alone, and one of the is a traitor.

“director says we have to continue as normal until the bau team get here and they’ll decide the best course of action to take-”

i grip the edge of my desk, “so we just let them waltz in here and take over? those are our people down there, they don’t know them-”

“hey, its gonna be okay. you trust these guys, don’t you?”

i nod.

“so they’re going to find out who the mole is, and they’re not going to arrest anyone who isn’t guilty, they’re good at what they do.”

i let out a deep breath, “i know, i know. its just…i’ve been apart of these interrogations before, they ask you about everything and anything and analyze your every movement and micro expression, they’re going to question every decision we have ever made, professionally and personally. this is going to be an exhausting day,” i groan.

today felt like such a good day when i woke up, and now i was facing a waking nightmare.

fitz had gone back to his own office, like he said we needed to act like it was business as usual until the bau arrived. i had rolled my blinds back up and kept an anxious eye on the double glass doors that served as a main entrance to the bullpen.

i’d had an hour to try and prepare myself, to slow my heart rate and pull myself together enough to deal with my team of ex coworkers flying in to pick apart my department.

despite the hour i had to prepare myself, my legs turn to jelly when i see the elevator doors glide open and agent hotchner step out. fitz taps on my window as he passes my office on his way to greet them and i begrudgingly follow him out.

“agent hotchner,” he says, reaching out his hand, “thank you very much for coming on such short notice.”

hotch is stony faced as ever and gives him a brisk nod, “of course, have you told any of your agents about the situation?”

“just me,” i say, “no one else knows, but your presence here won’t go unnoticed for long,” i motion back through the double glass doors where some of the agents are already beginning to strain their necks to see who fitz and i are talking to.

“we brought our technical analyst, penelope garcia along, we might need access to computers and phones. do you have somewhere she can set up?”

fitz nods, “the conference room is just next to my office, you’ll have plenty of space and privacy in there for you all, i’ll show you the uo now if you’d like to follow me,” he says, motioning towards the door.

hotch nods, he and the rest of the team follow fitz through the bullpen and into the conference room. they mumble their hellos to me as they pass me but i know they can tell from my tightly folded arms and clenched jaw that i don’t want them here.

i tag along after them, behind a woman with dark hair that i don’t recognize, after i introduce myself she identifies herself as a dr alex blake.

“so you used to work with the bau?” she asks as we make our way up to the conference room, “hotch said you were a good agent, it’s nice to get the chance to meet you.”

i nod, “yeah, i transferred here a few years ago, it’s nice…to see everyone again,” i force a smile as i hold the door open for her.

“oh, thank you.”

i glance out the bullpen and see dozens of confused faces staring back at me. i close the door. the team have already settled themselves around the table, hotch, rossi, morgan, garcia, jj, blake and finally spencer. i avoid eye contact with him.

“so what are you going to tell people?” fitz asks, “surely if you announce that you think there’s a mole then whoever it is will just run?”

morgan nods gravely, “that is a concern, can you account that all of your agents arrived this morning?”

“lopez and mccall are out on assignment,” i say, “everyone else is here, either at their desks or somewhere on the floor.”

“any concerns about lopez and mccall?” hotch asks, “reprimands, hr complaints-”

“i know what to look for,” i say icily, “and no. they’re both stand up agents, they’ve saved both of our lives countless times,” i motion between fitz and i.

he nods, “she’s right. i’ve suspected a mole for months, so i’ve only been putting the agents i’d trust with my life out on assignment.”

hotch nods and makes some notes on the papers he is holding, “okay that’s good enough for me, like you said it is a concern that revealing our true purpose here could cause our mole to panic and we don’t want him to hurt himself or any of your agents.”

right, because a shoot out would just be the cherry on top of my day.

“our plan is to say that we have evidence to suggest the mole is in a different department, but the interviews we are carrying out here are just formality, we’ll ask inconspicuous questions and rely on behavioural cues,” morgan explains.

i raise an eyebrow, “and you really think that’ll work?”

“it has to,” jj whispers.

“okay,” i say, “i assume you’re going to want to interrogate fitz and i as well?”

“interview, not interrogate,” rossi says, “i will talk with agent fitz and dr blake will interview you…we felt that would be best since you never met during your time with us, that way there will be no bias or-”

“okay, i get the point. my office is next door, dr blake is welcome in there whenever she is ready to conduct our interview.”

before anyone can object i’ve already swept out of the room, into my office and slammed my door behind me. i’m sure they can hear it bang in the conference room. i know they’re just trying to do their job, and i feel pretty sure that they don’t suspect me. but i’m not in the mood to have my life picked apart by a profiler, especially one i don’t know.

it’s a few hours later when dr blake knocks on my door, when she comes in i motion for her to take a seat across from me. i offer her a cup of coffee but she politely refuses.

“no thank you, i don’t think this will take very long and i have quite a few interviews left after you….”

“of course,” i say, “i’m ready whenever you are.”

blake nods and presses the audio record button on her phone, “i already have the basics, your name, age et cetera confirmed by agent hotchner and fitz, so i just have a couple of quick questions. when did you transfer to the counter terrorism division?”

“three years ago.”

“and how long have you been in your role as assistant unit chief to agent fitz?”

“about a year and a half, he took over as unit chief when agent bishop retired and i was promoted to his previous role.”

blake nods, “okay, excellent. why did you choose to transfer from the bau to the counter terrorism division?”

i don’t think there are enough hours in the day to explain that properly, is what i want to say to dr blake. i left because of a bitter concoction of unrequited love and self-hatred, is what i want to say to dr blake. but instead i force a smile.

“i had been with the bau for a very long time and i felt it was time for a change of pace, i-”

the door swings open, cutting me off mid-sentence. i’m ready snap at whichever one of my agents is stupid enough to interrupt, but when i look up all i see are the cold and hard eyes of spencer reid staring back at me.

“reid, is there a problem?” blake asks.

“no, i was just hoping to sit in on this interview,” he says, never breaking eye contact with me.

“oh, spencer i don’t think that’s appropriate, you two were friends-”

“it’s fine he can stay. pull up a chair, reid.”

“i’ll stand.”

“fine.”

i’m grateful when dr blake doesn’t comment on the obvious tension between us. spencer sulks over to my desk, he stands slightly behind blake and leans against the wall. his arms are folded tight across his body, his jaw is clenches, his brows are furrowed; it’s like looking at myself in the mirror.

spencer reid doesn’t want to be here either.

“right,” blake says slowly, “you were just telling me why you transferred to the counter terrorism division, please continue.”

i tear my gaze away from spencer, “yes, of course. like i was saying i felt i had been with the bau so long and i just wanted a change of scenery, when agent fitz offered me the job i thought it would be a perfect opportunity to go somewhere i could really thrive and make a difference.”

spencer makes a face and i ignore him.

blake smiles and nods, “well it sounds like you’ve done just that, agent fitz speaks very highly of you.”

“what’s your relationship with agent fitz?” spencer interjects.

“dr reid, i think it would be best if i ask the-”

“he’s my boss, and he’s my friend. probably my closest friend here.”

“hmm.”

“what?”

spencer shrugs, “some of the other agents i’ve interviewed reported that you two have a very close relationship, and he offered you this job before he was unit chief. hiring agents wasn’t part of his job description.”

“this supposed to be an interview, none of those were questions.”

“i guess i’m just wondering why he offered you this job in the first place, and why he chose to promote you to assistant unit chief when there are dozens of other agents in this office who have been here longer than you.”

“maybe you should be asking agent fitz those questions, not me.”

“oh i intent to.”

“do you really think i’m the mole?” i spit.

“i don’t know, but jj says you’ve been dodging her calls, not answering her texts…and i know from experience how much you hate that. not to mention you just lied straight to dr blake’s face, so i’d say you’re not looking as innocent as hotch and fitz think you are.”

“what is he talking about?”

the anger is burning through my bloodstream. the bitter and cold spencer reid standing in front of me is not the man i left in virgina all those years ago. he’s not even the same man i met at nyu even a few months ago, something about him is different.

“i think he’s referring to when i told you that i transferred because i wanted a change of scene, spencer has always believed there is a bigger conspiracy behind why i left.”

he snorts.

“something funny?”

“well it’s only a conspiracy if it’s not true.”

“that is the truth,” i say though gritted teeth, my nails dig into the palms of my hands as i clench my fists.

“part of it maybe, why don’t you tell dr blake why you really left?”

“spencer, i think that’s enough. i knew this wouldn’t be appropriate-”

“what happened to you spencer? you’re acting like a totally different person, refusing to sit down, snapping at me, speaking to me like i’m an unsub – you’ve changed.”

“maybe i’m taking after you,” he shrugs, “jj says that you’re different too now, she says you’re irritable and-”

i laugh, “she said that? do you two have little catch-ups where you can discuss how rude and bitchy i am now?”

“i’m sure they don’t-” dr blake begins.

“no, we do. jj doesn’t like it when you don’t call her back, she was upset-”

“right, because everything comes back to jj with you doesn’t it.”

he pauses and i see a hint of emotion flash through his eyes, i’ve touched a nerve there.

“not anymore,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“right, you’re not in love with her anymore, she mentioned you had a new girlfriend.”

blake’s eyes flicker between reid and i, “we really should get back on track-”

“yeah, not anymore with that either.”

i roll my eyes, “spencer, i don’t care about your relationship status anymore. i know you remember what i said to you at nyu, so i know that you know i don’t feel that way about you anymore,” i don’t even care the blake is in the room with us anymore, “i’m not in love with you, so if you’re trying to make me jealous with your little girlfriend in the hopes that i’ll get upset and reveal something then you’re barking up the wrong tree, i’m not the mole. i don’t have anything to hide.”

“i’m not trying to make you jealous,” he croaks, “even if i wanted to i couldn’t, because she’s dead.”

oh. so that’s why he was acting so out of character.

“what happened?”

“stalker, shot herself and maeve right in front of me.”

maeve. what a pretty name, the mystery woman i’d been so desperate to know about when jj first mentioned her on the phone. that was so long ago now, i hadn’t felt jealous of her in a long time. i was grateful for that, i didn’t want to be jealous of a dead woman.

i hadn’t lied to spencer when i said i wasn’t in love with him anymore. i would always have a soft spot for him in my heart, but i wasn’t in love with him. i’d been slowly piecing myself back together for the past year and a half, as my feelings for spencer faded i felt better, and stronger.

i felt more confident than i had in a long time, because i wasn’t constantly competing for his attention or comparing myself to the women he preferred. i once felt like spencer and i were tied together like planets orbiting the sun, but that was never a true representation of our relationship because he was my sun, the light and center of my life.

and to him i was just one of many trapped in his orbit. i let my love for him burn and keep me warm for years, but you can have too much of a good thing i was blinded by that love. eventually, you have to learn to keep yourself warm. eventually the eclipse will pass.

“when?”

“a couple of months ago.”

i sigh and lean back in my chair, “why are you telling me this spencer?”

spencer isn’t look at me anymore and for once i don’t mind.

“alex, could you give us a minute?” he asks, she hesitates for a moment, “please.”

eventually she nods, gets up and leaves. spencer takes her seat.

i pick at my nails, “so now you want to sit down, huh?”

“don’t be like that.”

“oh i’m sorry, have i been rude to you?” i scoff, “are you not the one who has been unprofessional and-”

“i shouldn’t need to be professional with my friends!”

“are we even friends anymore, spencer?”

he shrugs and looks down at his lap. i see the dark circles rimming his eyes, the hollowness in his face, the tangles in his hair. he looks rough. his chapped lips, his pale skin, his bruised knuckles, he looks ill.

“why did you barge into my interview? blake wasn’t going to ask me anything you didn’t already know the answer to.”

“i wanted to see if you’d about your transfer, and you did-”

“spencer, i don’t know why you have this fixation on why i left, but if you want me to say it so badly then fine. i left because of you, is that what you wanted to hear? are you happy now?”

i wait for the tears to well up in my eyes but they don’t come. i can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

“do you think i would be happy about you leaving because of me?” his voice cracks, “i learned recently what rejection can do to a person, i guess i wanted to see if-”

“if what? your rejection drove me to become a terrorist?” i snort, “jesus fucking christ spencer, i’d have hoped you had more faith in me than that.”

my heart begins to soften when i see the tears in his eyes. that fucking soft spot.

“with maeve…” tears begin to stream down his face and it’s several minutes before he can bring himself to speak, “maeve rejected a phd student’s thesis, and it drove her crazy. she stalked, kidnapped and eventually killed them both, and that was just a thesis rejection.”

he holds his head and his hands and cries, i stand up from my chair and shuffle round the desk, bending down i wrap my arms around him.

“i’m not a profiler anymore, but you’re upset and i think you’re projecting your feelings about maeve’s death onto me.”

he shakes his head, “she was the love of my life, i wanted to spend forever with her and she’s gone. i’m not upset, i’m devastated,” i wipe the tears streaming down his skeletal cheeks, “and i am projecting my feelings, but not about this.”

“spencer, i-”

“no, let me finish, please,” he whimpers, “i’ve been thinking about you, even before maeve died, since that day at nyu and i don’t think i’ve been a good friend to you, i should’ve noticed your feelings sooner. and i shouldn’t have made you listen to my feelings about jj all those years, it wasn’t fair-”

“you don’t need to apologise, you didn’t know-”

“but i should’ve! you were right in front of my nose and i never noticed,” he looks up at me with his tear-filled eyes, “i think i could’ve learned to love you, if i’d had the chance.”

my blood runs cold and i drop my arms from their embrace around him, slowly backing away, “learned to love me?” i repeat, “i don’t want you to have to have force yourself to love me, who would want that?”

“wait, no i’m sorry. i just meant that-”

“i’m finally over you spencer,” i cry, “i spent years putting back together what you broke, and now you come to my job and tell me that you could’ve learned to love me? no. that’s not fair spencer, i deserve someone who loves me without having to try, i don’t need your pity or your fake love.”

i turn on my heel and storm towards the door, spencer leaps to his feet and follows me, crying out his apologies the whole way. i ignore him, because what else does he expect me to say?

i’ve worked so hard to put my life back together, and now he wants to shatter me like glass over again? he wants to sit in front of me, in my fucking office, and tell me that if he’d profiled me a little bit harder then we could be together right now?

i think i could’ve learned to love you.

somehow the words hurt more than his rejection.

i swing open my door, hotch is standing in the doorway.

“we got the mole.”

“who was it?” spencer asks, evidently having pulled himself together long enough respond to hotch.

“an agent jermey cole,” hotch says hesitantly, his eyes flickering between us, “were you two close?”

“not anymore,” i say, mocking spencer’s earlier words as i shoot a glare back at him, “we only dated for a few months, i broke up with him when he started acting strange...”

“strange how?” hotch questions.

“weird phone calls in the middle of the night, hiding his texts from me, coming home late…god i was so stupid. i thought he was cheating on me.”

hotch places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “it’s not your fault, that was a far more reasonable assumption than guessing he was part of a terrorist cell. but we caught him before he could do any real damage, i have to go and call the director. i was just coming to tell reid we’re heading back to the jet now.”

hotch nods at spencer and walks away, pulling his phone from his pocket as he enters fitz’s office.

“i didn’t know you were dating anyone,” spencer whispered.

“yeah,” i spit, “guess you could say i was learning to love him.”

i leave spencer standing in the doorway to my office.

i think i could’ve learned to love you.

his words sting, and they definitely make me angry. but there’s a satisfaction in knowing that they don’t make me fall apart. i love spencer, but i’m not in love with him, and this erases any doubts i had about that fact. had he said those words to me a year ago, i’d have been crumbling to pieces in his arms.

but now i feel like honey and glass.

it’s been two years since i saw spencer.

it’s been two years since i saw anyone on the team, jj sends me pictures of the boys sometimes, but even we aren’t the same as we used to be. and i think i’m okay with that.

fitz and i make a good team, we run the counter terrorism division like well oiled machine and people don’t die. he’s my best friend now, and i don’t need anyone else.

not in my personal life at least. but professionally, we’re at a dead end on this case and if we don’t act now then people will die. fitz and i only work so well as a team because we know when to make the hard calls.

for me, the hardest call was when i had to pick up my phone and ask agent hotchner for his help tracking down a serial bomber who was targeting busy tourist spots around the city.

it’s been two, peaceful years since i saw anyone from the bau, and now they’re standing next to me, clad in bullet proof vests and surrounded by s.w.a.t agents as we approach grand central station, one of the most frequented areas in the city.

this was his endgame.

the n.y.p.d are working on evacuating the station, and all incoming trains have been rerouted. the bomb squad are getting anxious, they don’t like waiting around like this, but there isn’t much they can do when the unsub has the bomb strapped to his chest.

fitz is trying to talk him down, but i can see the unsub getting angrier and angrier with every second, he’s going to blow us all up.

“we need to do something,” i hiss to hotch.

we’re standing at the very edge of the station by the entrances, ready to sprint out if he decides to detonate. only i can’t leave fitz, i didn’t want to let him to go and talk to the bomber and i tried to fight my way towards them but hotch told me i could either stay with him and follow his orders or i could go back to headquarters. i begrudgingly chose the former.

“well we can’t shoot him, he has a manual and biomechanical trigger – if the heart rate monitor detects that his has heart stops beating the bomb will arm automatically, our only chance is if fitz can talk him down.”

i tap my foot, “he shouldn’t even be the one negotiating, he has a wife now and a kid on the way, if he dies that baby is gonna grow up without a dad,” I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms and draw blood, “if i die, the only person i’m going to hurt is myself, but i’ll be dead so it won’t matter.”

“i can’t let you go over there-” hotch begins.

i look over at fitz, standing several feet away from the bomber with his hands in the air. i imagine telling his wife that her husband has been blown to pieces, i imagine her going through labour alone, i imagine his kid growing up and asking why everyone has a daddy apart from them.

“no you can’t, but you also can’t stop me,” i say, shoving my gun back into its holster and taking my first few steps towards the unsub.

hotch is hissing something at me but i don’t hear him because everything happens so fast after that. something in the unsubs body language shifts, and before i know it i’m being blown backwards by a searing hot force.

every window in the building shatters, and i land in a pile of glass, the shards tearing at my skin as a try and push myself to my feet. my head is aching, and everything blurs in front of me, but i can tell from the acrid smell and orange glow that half the building is on fire. i pat myself down, searching for any pieces of shrapnel or glass embedded in my body, i don’t feel penetrating wounds but when i hold my hands up above my face my fingers are slick with blood.

my vision is so blurry, and i can’t hear a thing over the ringing in my ears. spencer’s face appears in front of my eyes, his lips are moving but i still can’t hear a word. the ringing is overwhelming and black spots are beginning to appear across my vision.

i want to go to sleep.

my eyes flutter shut.

i think someone is shaking me.

the ringing is too much.

when i begin to float back to consciousness, the ringing is gone and is replaced with a consistent beeping. my body is aching, and i groan as i try and sit myself up because my arms don’t want to cooperate with me. when i look down i see they’re wrapped up tightly in bandages.

“hey, don’t try and move yet,” a voice says, “you have a concussion, the doctor says you’ll be okay but groggy for a while.”

the voice shifts into view, its spencer. his face is twisted with worry and he’s biting at his nail, “how do you feel?”

“like i was hit by a train,” i cough, “what happened?”

his face drops, “you don’t remember?”

i try to shake my head but it hurts to try and move, “bits and pieces, did n.y.p.d get everyone out?”

he nods, “yeah, your team did a good job,” he shifts towards me and takes a seat on the bed next to me, “but there’s something else-”

“god, my head really hurts, can they give me any pain meds?”

“yeah, i’m sure they can, i’ll ask a nurse in a minute,” he says softly, “but i have some bad news…it’s agent fitz-”

“no. no, no, no,” the tears start to burn in my eyes and my vision is blurrier than it was immediately after the explosion, “don’t say it, please don’t say it,” i plead.

he takes my hand, “okay, i won’t.”

the tears are streaming down my face i can’t bring myself to wipe them away, my body aches as it’s racked with sobs. spencer doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes my hand and takes out a handkerchief to dry away my tears.

“d-does his wife know?” i finally manage to choke out.

“yeah, hotch spoke to her.”

gemma was a lovely woman, i don’t know how i can face her again when the guilt flooding my body tells me that this is my fault. fitz is dead, and it should’ve been me.

“this isn’t fair,” i croak.

“i know, it’s never fair. but he saved so many people-”

“no. i mean it’s not fucking fair because he never should’ve been in that position in the first place, if i’d just gotten there sooner then he never would’ve tried to negotiate, it should’ve been me.”

through my own tears i think i see spencer’s eyes turn red and glassy, he shakes his head and grips onto my hand so tightly it hurts, if i had the energy i’d tell him to loosen his grip but i can’t make myself speak.

“i know what its like to have someone you love die right in front of you,” he says, and from the pain in his voice i know he isn’t lying and i know he’s talking about maeve, “i know what its like to feel that guilt and wish it was you instead but-”

“do you think we’re cursed spencer?”

“what do you mean?”

i close my eyes, “bad things seem to happen to us more than anyone else i know, we’ve both been kidnapped, drugged, tortured, known the agony of unrequited love, had someone we love killed in front of our eyes…how am i supposed to have any faith in life when we’re just bombarded with trauma and pain every single day?”

spencer opens his mouth to speak but he falters, i can only recall one other occasion where i’ve seen spencer speechless. it’s not a sight that i ever want to see again, he looks so lost as he stares down at me and i know that he doesn’t know what to say.

morgan pops his head around the door, “glad to see you’re awake,” he says.

i smile weakly at him before tilting my head away, i don’t need anyone else seeing me cry.

“sorry kid, but hotch wants wheels up in thirty, we need to get a move on.”

“yeah, i’ll be two minutes.”

my heart sinks in my chest because i realise that spencer’s hand is still intertwined with mine and i know that my heart will break when he pulls his away. i shakily raise my hand to dry my eyes, spencer has to go now, and i need to dry my own eyes from now on.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “i don’t want to leave you but-”

“it’s okay, spencer,” i say, shifting my head back so i can see his face again.

his honey and glass eyes are boring into mine, and in that moment, we are connected by our mutual pain, and maybe something deeper that i can’t quite discern.

“you could come back with me,” he says hopefully.

i shake my head, “you know i can’t spencer,” i squeeze his hand lightly, “you go, i’ll be okay.”

i can’t go with him because i think i know what his eyes are asking me and i can’t open myself up to something like that right now. i can’t disregard the last five years that i have spent re-building myself just for something that i may be reading too much into.

he lets go of my hand and an involuntary shiver runs through my body, i had grown so accustomed to our brief skin to skin contact and now that it’s gone i feel like i’m missing a part of myself.

“i’m so sorry, about everything-”

“it’s okay spencer, i’m starting to think that we aren’t meant to have a happily ever after.”

he doesn’t say anything else; he just presses a gentle kiss against my forehead before he skirts of the room.

i lie motionless in my hospital bed, the nurse comes in to administer some pain meds and i almost wished she hadn’t because at least the pounding in my head and stinging from my cuts meant i could feel something.

without spencer, the room is colder. i thought that having my own, personal sun was a bad thing because i thought that being strong and independent meant never relying on anyone for anything. i realise now that being strong means knowing when to when to depend on others.

i wish fitz were here, he would know exactly what to say.

i feel like rotten honey and shattered glass.

i’m not surprised by the look of shock that spreads across his face when he swings open the door to see me standing in the hallway. i open my mouth to speak but i realise i never figured out what to say. i had two cab journeys, a flight, a decade of loving him and i still don’t know what to say.

he must see something on my face because his own stony expression softens, and he reaches out a hand.

“what made you change your mind?”

it’s warm against my own, still freezing from the bitter, winter wind.

“i realised i was wrong, i thought if i ran straight back into your arms it would ruin all the years i spent sticking myself back together. before you were oxygen to me, and i couldn’t live without you. now i know that i can, i just don’t want to.”

he squeezes my hand, pulling me towards him. i’m in his apartment.

“you told me once that you still love me, but you aren’t in love with me. is that still true?”

i nod, “yes, but i don’t think that you’re in love with me either. yet,” i wink at him and he grins, “i don’t need to learn how to love you, i already know how to do that. i just need to be persuaded to fall in love with you again.”

he takes a step closer to me, “persuaded how?”

i snake my arms around his neck and his lips brush against mine, “like this.”

i press my lips against his and i don’t feel fireworks or butterflies or a gravitational pull, i just feel at home. i don’t need a happily ever after beacuse he is enough.

he tastes like coffee and i feel like honey and glass.

as usual i have finished this super late at night and havent proof read at all so pls ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes - also aware that the timeline in this probably doesn't align with canon cos i have no clue how far apart certain events happened so ive made some educated guesses.

i never planned for honey and glass to have a part 2 but i wrote one due to all the requests i got so i’m sorry if the plot isnt the best because i didnt really know where to take it. i’m definitely not as happy with this as i was with part one but i still hope you enjoy it!

taglist:

@mggswhorificlover @doctorthreephds @minami97 @bisexualwomanofcolour @ashwarren32 @bangisbae @haylaansmi @heyy-itsharley03 @starjane312 @awesometheydontknowiamhere @radtwinkie @allexthakatt @spencereidshoe @mgglover @spideyr3id

@cloudyskylines @pastelvixenbeauty @hatemyselfbutitsokay @writingwithnotime @awkwxrdmarauders

ive tagged anyone who commented on part 1 or liked my posts about a part 2 so im sorry if you didnt want to be tagged, if ur name is scored through then i tried to tag you but it wouldnt let me x

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid angst #hurt and comfort #spencer reid headcanons

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bitchesgetriches · 3 years

Note

I've had a dream job for about four years now in a charity. I love what I do, love my boss, colleagues, I develop my skills daily, I get more responsibility, have promotion opportunities, it's 100% from home, and the salary is something I can live on but I’ve recently realised that unless I’m in a senior role I won’t get paid what I want and I’m money motived. Took me a while to admit it but here we are. I’ve asked my boss if we could have a salary talk and she replied in a way that sounded like a raise won’t be happening for a while. I did get a raise a year ago which I appreciated but then I’ve found out I’m among the lowest earners because silly me has never negotiated the offered sum, while I’m doing super star work and I’m very smart:)

So, I've recently spotted a job I am very curious about. It's a for-profit company, but they essentially strive for the same goal which is my personal value as well. But in this new job I'd be developing new skills, meeting more people (it's 50% in the office) and establishing new connections. And it's more money, but might end up the same or less as I might have to move, but because it's for profit, there might be more growth potential in the future. I've been feeling a bit stuck at home, especially with covid, not being able to meet people, and thought it would be a good shake-up opportunity. Plus I may be able to negotiate a relocation package or something if I’m the best candidate. So I applied.

I now feel so guilty and regretting applying already. I feel like I'm cheating on my current organisation, as they've treated me to well, and it's such a good stable job with nothing really wrong with it (apart from the obvious $$). But my ambition to see what else I'm capable of, to develop new skills and increase my earning potential is driving me crazy - I feel that they’re not going to pay me what I want unless I threaten to leave. Also I’ve familiarised myself with your blog and the concept of job hopping to get to a good raise is a sweet one. It seems that I might get “a raise” but it will be a tiny one as it’s new hires that get all the money. I feel that my organisation is using my high value skills and use my age as a reason to pay me a junior level salary.

But at the same time, shouldn’t I give my boss a chance to at least hear my ask? The applications close today, I am quite a strong candidate, but the salary conversation might not happen for a month. Should I stick it out and see how I get get to their top pay level?

My main question is... should we leave comfort of a “perfect role” to pursue our dreams of a bigger and better future? I may need to work in a an office which don’t particularly want, and it may be way out of my comfort zone, but it will offer some connections to some super influential people who might potentially hire me in the future for even more money:)

Thanks so much in advance!

Pookie muffin, we're so glad you got in touch. You're clearly agonizing over this decision, and you're overwhelmed by emotions and options. We're here to help!

First things first: never hesitate to apply for a job. Especially if you already have one. Here's why:

1. Applying for jobs is a SKILL. You need to keep in practice.

2. There's no use worrying about what MIGHT happen. Until you have an actual bite in your job search, leaving your current employer is just a hypothetical. There's no reason to freak out if concrete steps haven't been taken. So until you actually KNOW that leaving your job is a real possibility, don't waste your energy worrying about it.

3. You can always leverage a job offer for a raise or promotion. That said, even if you DO use an offer as leverage... you STILL don't have to take the offer or leave your employer even if they don't give you the raise!

4. It gives you OPTIONS.

All of which is to say: applying for this new job is the right thing to do.

Next--and this is incredibly important--your employer is not your family. You don't owe them anything but that which you're contractually obligated to give. And I guarantee your contract or the terms of your employment do NOT dictate that you feel guilty about leaving or beholden to them in any way.

Job hopping is a perfectly normal part of any career! You're not committing treason by leaving a company. They'll be fine! And look at it this way: by vacating your position, you're giving another young nonprofit worker a chance to advance.

Lastly, you say you'd feel guilty about leaving because they've treated you "so well." But, uh... no they haven't. Read your own words. They take you for granted. They don't give you the time and respect you deserve. Your boss is making you wait a month to discuss your future! This is all the proof I need that you can be completely absolved of guilt.

I hope that all makes you feel better. Here's your homework: read the following articles with a nice snack and a beverage and STOP FEELING GUILTY:

Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers

The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll

I Hate My Job and I Don't Know How To Leave It: A Confession

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andyourhostkristenwiig · 2 years

Text

Um...I may need adult advice because the job I wanted to decline today suddenly offered more hours. Like I seriously need advice because I just had a panic attack about this and I've been crying for like 15 minutes now

So basically these are my choices now

- staying at the job that's a 10 minute walk away from my apartment

- I have a very nice office for myself

- I have absolute freedom to schedule my private appointments whenever

- I don't have to schedule my vacation around anything, I could ask today if I could have next Monday off and I'd get Monday off

- I make 1.869€ (I mean...this plays a big role so I might as well tell you, right?)

- if I feel like it, I have a walking distance to pretty much my entire family

- if my parents have appointments, I can just leave for an hour and drive them and then return to work

- my work is pretty boring and simple, I don't really have to think a lot and I'm mostly on my phone or looking out the window

- I don't really have a lot of responsibility because my boss won't let me

- you know the entire situation with my colleagues

- I love that I can attend shows and readings super short notice because they usually include like a 5 hour train ride

- I'd make about 70€ less, 1.797€

- I'd have a lot of responsibility and a wide field of tasks

- I'd have either a 25 minutes car ride or a 15 minute train ride

- I wouldn't be able to schedule my or my family appointments as freely

- I'd be "away" again

- they were very nice people during the job interview

- they want be so badly they went up with the hours

- I can technically fight for more money and they'd eventually allow it

Here are extra points I need to consider:

- my hobby is attending concerts and shows, it's not cheap

- my salary has to pay all bills, all broken machines and clothes

- my rent alone is 600€

- I wanted to start boxing which is another hobby that costs money

- I do not currently own a car but wanted to get a new one eventually, so...money (an alle Deutschen...ich muss mich also auf die Deutsche Bahn verlassen!!)

- I have an open application to a position that gives me nearly 400€ more than I earn now but I can't wait until I have an answer from them because of the notice period to quit my job and this one requires an evaluation from my current boss

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caffeinated-yearning · 3 years

Text

Nice Things

Yeah baby I’m always late to my birthday, but I bring Dick Gets A Raise Because It’s My Birthday And I Can Ask For Nice Things For My Friends

Word Count: ~1800 Warnings: None

"You're allowed to have nice things, pal." "Sir?" Gumshoe smiled down at his companion. "You should let yourself have nice things! I saw the way you were looking at that bookstore window- why don't you go get yourself something nice?" "Uh. Not today." "You say that every time I tell you that you should enjoy yourself, pal. Why don't you just let yourself live a little?" "Just." It shrugged, a noncommittal gesture with its hands, and looked up at warm eyes overcast with confusion. Today was not a day that wanted gifts to itself. But, wait- "hey, what about you? You should live by your own advice, Mr. Gumshoe. Detective, sorry." "Eh... I don't exactly have the money to be spending on stuff that's not rent or dinner, you know?" Sheepish, his grin; it wasn't exactly news to hear about his low pay, but he still acted like it was embarrassing. Mark looked back at the ground then- or rather, at the thread between its fingers. "I'm sorry." "Sorry for what, pal?" "Sorry that they get away with paying you peanuts when you work as hard as you do. That you have to want for things because of it." "Hey-, hey, don't worry about it, pal. It's not like I don't deserve it-." "You don't deserve it." Bitter, voice that tasted like burnt coffee grounds and lemon rinds. Gumshoe looked at him with surprise. It looked back, and his eyes were full of that same bitterness. "I'm going to make sure you don't have to suffer that any more. Tonight, even, it's as good a night as any- better than most, perhaps. I'll do something about it tonight." "What- now hang on a minute, pal, you don't gotta do anything like that for me!" It was as though Detective Gumshoe was... worried? Concerned about the response. Was he worried that Miles would think Gumshoe had put Mark up to the task? Absurd! The other possibility was not one Mark wanted to imagine. "But why not?" The taste of his emotions was vile, the taste of this day had always been vile. It had to be dealt with, that awfulness- every year it demanded something to satiate its miserable temper. A dreadful day. "Why not? There is no justice in a man who needs to so carefully avoid spending for pleasure, so that he may eat and have a roof." "Well, yeah, but-!" "There is nothing fair about it. So I'll fix it, if I can. I think, today, I can." As unusual as it was, to see Mark stand tall, to wear an aura of self-assuredness and adamancy, there he was. Back straight, and his pace suddenly driving Gumshoe to trot if he wanted to keep up; but since they’d have to split, one to go to the precinct and one to the chief prosecutor’s office, Gumshoe didn’t have to run alongside him for long.

---

"Mr. Edgeworth, sir?" "Mann." He looked up, briefly, from the case files he was studying just then- and back, down into the depths of the files. Inscrutable, from Mark's position, and far too packed to be easily torn apart. "Yes? What do you want." "You don't happen to know the date, do you?" "Hmm. Why do you ask?" Mark swallowed. Confidence was a mask that he could wear; he would wear the mask of a man who was confident. "I just... I wanted to make a request." "And it's important that today is today?" "It's relevant, but only if you decide that my appeals to logic and ethics are not enough." "And you think that an appeal to something other than logic or ethics will sway me, if those should fail?" There was a smirking lilt to his tone- chilling, how easily he could root Mark to the ground. "... Very well then." He settled in his seat, closing the file altogether; hands folded under his chin, same smirking grin as he turned his attention to Mark. "State your case."

---

"... And so, whether you trust in my logic, or you strive toward justice, and from there the ethical resolution of all issues that may arise, I think you will appreciate that it is necessary to give Detective Gumshoe a more reasonable salary." Breathe, and pull himself from that state of fearful almost-combat- "I have made my case, and if you find it lacking, you may cross-examine me. But I know I'm right." "Is that so?" He hadn't moved much in the past... Had it really been over a half hour? Mark felt his skin crawling at the idea of taking up so much time- of *talking* for that long. "I know I'm right, and if you have questions, I can fight on each counterpoint you might have." *Please don't have counterpoints.* "I do have one question." Mark held its breath. The tone, the posture; as though Miles had some ace up his sleeve. Some secret knowledge of ethos or logos which would allow him to upturn the whole thing. *Impossible, impossible*. Not that impossible; Edgeworth could likely find logical loopholes in anything, if previous sparring was anything to go by. "Why was the date an important precursor to your argument? It would seem irrelevant." "Ah." That. Right. The date. "If it's irrelevant, then why are you asking?" "It was a curious thing to bring up, so I want to know how it would sway me one way or another." Piss. "Erm. It's just my birthday. I. It was a dumb thing to bring up. Ignore it. Put it out of mind. It is, indeed, quite irrelevant." "Oh." Mark felt the anxious chill in fingers and toes; the fear response drawing his blood away. So much for the fire that had possessed him before. "Please give him a raise." "That's your request for your birthday?" *Oh don't sound so surprised.* "Yes. I'm doing just fine as I am; I've got any number of cheap hobbies and recipes to fall back on. If you need to cut someone else's pay to feel better about Gumshoe getting a well-deserved raise, I volunteer myself as sacrifice." "Don't- no. Don't say something as absurd as that. That is not necessary in the slightest." "Well either way. Dick- Detective Gumshoe deserves to eat more than instant ramen."

Miles watched the other carefully. He was not a creature that often let himself experience emotions- neither of them was, but Mark was always just a little closer to his emotions than he would have liked to believe. Miles was well aware of that- he'd seen it a few times before, the way he stood, stubborn and hard-headed, to defend anyone that he decided needed the defense. What was most impressive was how little awareness Mark had about his own expressions- he had described himself as 'poorly emoting' before, which was not a trait Miles believed accurate. Right now though, he'd gone from a state of loud and justified passion to... something almost embarrassed, in the span of five seconds. Understandably so- given his last-ditch effort was genuinely meant to be a *birthday request*. "Was that all?" "Er. Yes. Have you made your decision?" "I have, yes." "May I... May I hear it?" "In due time." "Tonight?" "In due time." Mark nodded, obscuring his expression with downturned face and hair that always seemed to get in his face. "Shall I leave, then?" His voice was so much softer than Miles had realized it would be, and there was almost guilt- almost, but then, Miles was better at keeping his emotions in check. It was with a neutral tone and neutral expression, then, that he dismissed Mark; "you may leave, yes." He held himself impassive as he watched Mark turn, walk towards the door- "and, Mr. Mann?" Entirely silent, Mark turned a fraction of the way back; listening, but not speaking. "I hope you have enjoyed your birthday so far." Nod, either a thank you, or a yes, sir; Miles sighed as the door closed behind Mark. Perhaps he ought to have expected that Mark would be taken by his silence after his being so unforthcoming with the fate of the detective; a worrywart was he. Still, he bit his tongue, and stayed in his office; it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he gave the answer right away. That... That was something people liked, was it not? Birthday surprises?

Well. That was not a particularly hopeful thing to end on. Hand on throat and breathing as slow as he could, Mark pulled himself to calmness, a thing he had practiced before and would practice until the end of his days. There was no promise, there was no promise, but was it harmful to hope? No. And whether the arrow struck the mark wouldn't matter, really. If Edgeworth did not relent, then Dick- then Detective Gumshoe would probably hardly remember the conversation from that morning. If Edgeworth did relent, then perhaps luck did follow it still. Perhaps. Mark was a very lucky person, but good and bad luck are both still luck. It wasn't something to worry about. It wasn't something that it needed to focus on. And it could drag itself from the swirling thoughts if it needed to. So it would drag itself out of its own mind, nails clinging to stone and scraping against dirt, it would pull itself out of its mind. Fixing the bowtie it wore, it headed downstairs; emptiness was calm, and it had emptied itself so that it could get back to its job.

---

"Mark!" Oh, a familiar voice- a familiar clap of a hand on its shoulder. "Detective Gumshoe, what's up?" "I don't know what you did, or how, but thanks so much pal!" His eyes shone, bright- wet? "Did... what?" "Wasn't it you?" He looked confused, then; warm eyes that so often ended up clouded with confusion over Mark's own forgetfulness, or else its strange behaviors besides. "I mean I guess Edgeworth really didn't mention you by name, but I just assumed, since you said..." "Oh. OH. Oh, that." Based on the tone this is a good thing, based on previous encounters it's... "So it *was* you!" "I guess so. Did he..?" "Yeah, I don't know how you did it, but he seems to have listened to you, whatever you said to him." His face was always so open, so ready to admit of his joy or pain; and now it was luminous, it was sunlight. Contagious in the best of ways. "Thank you, thank you so much pal!" "Holy fuck he gave you a raise?" "He sure did!" And both were bouncing- enthusiasm excitement joy joy joy! "Oh my god I can't believe it- I was so afraid he wasn't gonna listen to me at all- Detective, holy shit this is fantastic!"

In a room adjacent, Miles' expression softened. "Surprise," he said into empty space. “Good to know that birthday surprises are still enjoyable, after all.”

#[[ Reason and Rationale | Miles Edgeworth ]]#[[ What a Pal! | Det. Gumshoe ]]#caffeinated writing #VERY disjointed and not terribly great but it's been a week since my birthday so the curse is long over!#as you can see I don't understand romance at all but neither does miles and that's ok we are dumb and not-quite dating yet #finishes this so I can close the tab I was writing it in: hell yeah closing tabs

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hurricanerin · 4 years

Text

Not Just One of Your Many Toys 1: Don’t Tell Me What to Do

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale/OFC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS, loss of virginity, power imbalance, general dickishness

Summary: Ransom and Olivia have been thorns in each other’s sides for fifteen years. They’ve tolerated one another, coaxed each other through major milestones, and trampled on one another’s hearts. After years spent healing from one of Ransom’s toxic outburst, Olivia finds herself subpoenaed by the Drysdale family as a character witness for his criminal trial. Their son is out of control, and the one person with the best chance of getting through to him wants absolutely nothing to do with the man.

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Boston, 2005

There has never been a moment in my life that I haven’t known exactly who Ransom Drysdale is. We met in the fall of 2005, right after my dad was promoted with General Electric and my family had moved to Boston from Puerto Rico for his new job. I was 13 and Ransom was 19, and I could’ve told you within 5 minutes of enduring his company that he was a playboy and a Grade A narcissist.

My parents and his mom, the legendary Linda Drysdale, had closed on our new house the week before. When my papá had mentioned to our realtor that he had 6 engineer brothers and sisters in PR also looking to move to the Boston area, Linda immediately swooped in and took over the sale. We had moved into the new house for two days when who showed up on our doorstep with a giant Harry and David gift basket on his mother’s behalf? Ransom. I’ve never seen my mom so taken with a man so quickly. It was absolutely nauseating.

My mom and I had been sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast with my little brother when Ransom waltzed in, ruining our meal. While he charmed my mom, I shooed Gian from the table, stuffed him into his coat and boots and shoved his toast into his hand.

“You’re gonna miss your bus, vete,” I said with an affectionate push.

He waved me off, but I could see his smile as he scrambled out the door towards his friends. When I turned around, Mamá was on the phone, distractedly scribbling on a notepad at the center island. Ransom had seated himself at our table and was examining the gift basket. After retrieving a pear, he rearranged the treats so it looked as if nothing were missing. Catching my eye, he shot me a grin, took a bite of the fruit and flaunted it in front of me.

“Want some?”

My mom’s groan of frustration cut off my retort as she hung up. Without missing a beat, Ransom hid the pear behind his leg.

Clipping her beeper to the waist of her skirt, she motioned at my backpack. “Ol, you need to get your school stuff and hop in the car, I have to go to the hospital early. I need to drive you; school is on the way. A patient needs to go into surgery now.”

I scowled and put my hands on my hips. “I’m taking the bus with my friends. You said at this school I could!”

Already gathering her coat and keys, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, mija. Not today. Come on, we need to go. I can’t leave you alone at home for that long.”

My nose started to sting. I didn’t want to sit at school alone for an hour and have to explain to my new friends why I wasn’t on the bus like everyone else.

Carefully watching the interaction, Ransom cleared his throat. “Mrs. Santos, I would be happy to stay with her until her bus comes. I’m home on break from Yale for the week and would love nothing more than to get to know your daughter,” he offered, radiating charisma.

“Oh Ransom, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Honestly, our house is only a few streets away, so we’re practically neighbors. It would be no problem.”

She hesitated, glancing from Ransom to her watch. Back home, we didn’t have babysitters. Family played that role. I couldn’t imagine leaving her 13 year-old home alone with a strange man was high on her list of things to do in the US.

Ransom read the situation well. “Mrs. Santos, my girlfriend is just at my parents’. Why don’t I give her a call and the three of us can clean up the kitchen until…,” he motioned at me.

“Olivia,” I snipped.

He didn’t flinch. “Until Olivia’s bus comes,” he finished with a smile.

“I suppose… that would be alright,” Mamá agreed. “Your family is so kind!” Sighing in relief, she snagged me for a kiss goodbye and scurried towards the door. “Behave, Ol! I’ll see you at dinner,” she shouted over her shoulder.

I listened to the garage door close and turned to find him thumbing through the Harry and David catalogue while dabbing pear juice from his lips with a napkin. I glared at him for a minute.

“You and your mom are just being nice to my parents because I have a lot of aunts and uncles moving here,” I accused.

He looked up, laughing in surprise. Nodding his head to the side, he shrugged a shoulder, “You’re not wrong. Did they tell you that?”

“No, but I can tell.”

A soft ping sounded and he patted his pockets, pulling out a phone from his jacket. He continued nibbling at the pear until all that was left was the core, then absently dumped it on my abandoned breakfast plate. I walked closer and peered at the screen in his hands while he typed furiously.

“Do you have any games on your phone?” I asked.

“This isn’t a phone, it’s a Blackberry.”

“Do you have any games on your Blackberry? Like Snake? My mom’s phone has Snake.”

“No, it doesn’t have Snake,” he snapped as he pulled a headset from his jacket pocket and plugged it into the headphone jack. Almost immediately it rang and he slipped the earpiece on, pushing me.

“Jackson?” He sighed at me in irritation and turned away. “Yeah, come up this weekend. They’re two Norwegian bitches, semi-professional skiers or something. Super hot. They’re in the US to train but stopping to vacation in New England or whatever.” He ran his finger along the wicker of the gift basket while he listened to his friend respond. With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head. “No, no, we don’t need to take them sailing for them to put out.”

I stared at him, my jaw dropping. I knew it was rude to both stare and eavesdrop, but I had never met anyone who was so blatantly awful.

“They’ll fuck us because I’m crazy rich, bro, don’t worry,” Ransom chuckled. He leaned back against the table and rolled his eyes as his friend prattled on, until his gaze landed on me. His eyes widened.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Jax, I’m not alone. I gotta go.”

He yanked the earpiece off and tossed it on the table, leaning towards me with his elbows on his knees.

I scowled. “You don’t really have a girlfriend who’s coming over.”

“Olivia,” he said with a practiced smile that actually reached his beaming eyes. Ignoring my statement, he took me in for a moment, cataloguing my appearance as his gaze came to rest on my neck.

“That’s such a pretty necklace you’re wearing, did you pick it out yourself?”

My insides tingled a little. I didn’t like-him-like-him or anything, but he did look like a prince and he had complemented the starfish necklace my parents had given me for my birthday last summer. It was my favorite.

“It was a present from my mom and dad, from when I turned 13 last year.”

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Something about me being a kid. I didn’t know what that meant, because he made an angry face. But that quickly went away and then his prince face was back.

“That was my friend Jackson on the phone,” he motioned at his Blackberry with his thumb, “We go to college together. We joke around a lot,” he chuckled, rubbing my shoulder. “You do that with your friends, too, right? Tell jokes, mess around?”

Confused and skeptical, I nodded.

“And you don’t always tell those jokes to your parents, because they don’t understand them. You keep them between you and your friends.”

I raised my brow, trying to look formidable. “You don’t want me to tell my mom what you were talking about.”

The friendliness in his expression melted away, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards instead. “Exactly.”

To this day, I wish I could say I stuck up for myself; that I told my mom how much of a jerk he was. How he was a deceptive, womanizing liar who didn’t deserve an ounce of our time. But, I didn’t. Instead, I stooped to Ransom’s level.

My family had money; my mom was a physician and my dad a senior engineer for GE. We lived very comfortably. We had spent several months in the US in an apartment before finding the house, during which they had been earning American salaries and making more than ever. But, both of my parents came from humble means, sent a lot of money back home to their own parents and grandparents, and did not appreciate the materialism I faced every day at the private school they sent me to.

And Ransom had… a lot of money. He had made that clear over the phone. I’m not proud to admit that I requested the Tiffany heart tag bracelet I had seen other girls wearing at school in exchange for my silence. I’m even less proud that, after scoffing at my proposal, Ransom walked me right past the Tiffany & Co. on Newbury Street and in to Cartier and had me pick out a bracelet there instead. He said he hadn’t bought Tiffany for a girl since he was my age and that he wasn’t lowering himself. I still have the bracelet buried in my jewelry box, though I never put it on. Considering its origins, it feels dirty to wear, but I can’t bear to part with it.

Boston, 2007

In 2007, we found out my dad had a mistress. He had paid for her to move over from PR and had been supporting her in Boston for two years. That would’ve flown in PR, but in the US, my mom’s friends wouldn’t stand for it. (Especially the female divorce lawyer next door.) That was more or less the end of my dad’s presence in my life. There’s a chance he might walk me down the aisle one day, but that’s only if Mamá insists on a super Catholic wedding.

My dad leaving didn’t affect me like it did my mom and Gian. I had my friends and tennis, but Gian was younger and quieter; he and my dad spent a lot of time with little robot projects and those LEGO sets and I could tell he missed him. Mamá was lonely at home, too; she and my dad had been together since high school. She had spent a lot of time taking care of him, despite her working 60 hour weeks.

A few of my dad’s sisters hung around as moral support, but Papá eventually pressured them until they stopped coming to see us. However, there was an additional isolated party within our vicinity who also needed a group of humans to latch onto; someone with the capacity to fill the role of both quasi-paternal figure (figure, not role model), and platonic spouse.

I’d seen Ransom with Mrs. Drysdale; at best, she spoiled her son. At worst, she placated him with money, demeaned and dismissed him. Even I didn’t appreciate how she treated him and most days I didn’t like him. After graduating last in his class from Yale, Ransom took the year off to get away from her. Not a normal “take the year off” where you travel to learn about yourself, or work, or anything like that. Instead, Ransom bought property in the Maldives and imported $500,000 worth of Dom Perignon—the Rose Gold kind—, and flew in ballerinas from Moscow while telling his mom he was joining the Peace Corps for a girl. When there was fraud on his black AmEx and he had to phone home for help, there was hell to pay when the call came from not Mongolia. Linda cut him off and kicked him out.

For six months, but still. This was Ransom.

My mother, bless her heart, would have absorbed all children needing a home if she could. And, though he was 21, Ransom definitely qualified as such a child. I honestly think Ransom needed the mothering, too. Growing up with a nanny paid to give you care is not a replication of a mother’s love, which he never had in the first place.

Ransom always showered Mamá with attention, asking how she was with utter sincerity while maintaining direct eye contact, thanking her for the work she did as a cardiac surgeon, and other general sycophantic niceties. I was terrified that would change for the worst after he moved in, despite their generous age gap. A freshly divorced woman could’ve been new prey for him. It wasn’t that she didn’t know who and what he was—she was under no illusions. But she had a soft spot for the broken bad boy with mommy issues and indulged him.

I watched him like a hawk when he was around her, but he never made a move. He certainly let her wait on him; she cooked him food from scratch and listened to him talk while she cleaned up the kitchen, but he was never salacious. I still give him props for that. It would have been an entertaining game for him, one he would’ve easily won.

It helped that he was gone half the time. He still had his car, keys to the Hamptons house and access to his friends’ jets and properties. I’m pretty sure Richard was also slipping him $50k a month because Ransom rebuilt his wardrobe pretty quickly.

I will admit I was slightly… antagonistic towards him during the beginning of his time with us. I may have picked a few fights. He wanted to watch Sin City because of Jessica Alba; I wanted to watch the Corpse Bride. He left questionable-looking hair trimmings in the shower drain and you can bet I was pounding on his door. He gave me that look when I thought I had dressed nicely, and I may or may not have launched myself at him. But, near the middle of his stay, we learned to co-exist, and even had some decent conversations. I chilled out when I saw how he was with Gian.

I’m not sure Mamá ever officially asked Ransom to step up while he was living with us, I think the only conditions she had was that he tip the cleaning people an extra $150 for how bad his room was, not have his douchey friends over past 10pm, and no sleepovers with the opposite sex. But, it was obvious to everyone under our roof that Gian looked to Ransom for companionship. And, to my utter surprise, Ransom kind of delivered. He took Gian to the U.S. Open and up to Lake Champlain to golf a few times, and they’d hang out at the house when Ransom was home.

Then, one day I heard him call Gian his charity project to his friends as they sat out on the porch. The second he came inside I punched him in the arm over that. The weirdest part about Ransom and his awful behavior is that he only kinds of means it. I mean, the idea was there, he had had the thought that Gian was less fortunate than him and needed his help. But I also know he genuinely loved my little brother and was making spending time with him out to be a bigger deal than it really was.

Six months to the day, Ransom had a moving company at our doorstep at 8am sharp. He only had a few hanging wardrobes worth of clothes to move into his new apartment; all of the furniture was being delivered by the dealer, but the man couldn’t lower himself to drive his own U-Haul. By that time, I had developed an appreciation for Ransom. It was kind of nice to have someone older to talk to, even though he had no conception of what real life was like. He was okay. I didn’t miss sharing a dwelling space with him, but I did kind of miss him.

Boston, Fall 2009

That fall, I was 18 and a senior at the Winsor School and Ransom was 25 and bullshitting his way through his Master’s of Science in Business Analytics at Princeton. I preferred not to ask questions regarding his attendance or grades. I figured the less I knew, the less I could be implicated in some scandal involving the university and bribery.

High school wasn’t a great time in my life. The kids at Winsor were spoiled and came from generations of overachievers. You could say there were a lot of Ransoms, I suppose; self-serving, arrogant, brutal, conceited, rich kids. I’m not saying I didn’t share some of those traits, I knew I was fortunate, but I liked to think I was a decent person. As a result, I was relatively lonely. I had the varsity tennis team, and that fit my basic need for socialization. But not once did I ever entertain the thought of a boyfriend.

As the years progressed, I waited for the mutual attraction for my peers to arrive. It never did. At that age, even if boys had adopted the air of sophistication they had seen modeled at home and had the ability to charm, they severely lacked in a different department, like intelligence or maturity. I shut down every advance without a second thought and didn’t look back.

Until, that is, my Senior year. As leaving home was becoming a reality, I decided I didn’t want to go to college a virgin. I just didn’t. Things happen in college, things you don’t always have control over, and I liked control. I liked control very much. And I wanted to have control over when and how I gave it up. And I wasn’t giving it up to some 18 year old I had dated for a three months who couldn’t kiss and also didn’t have the experience to help me enjoy the process.

But I knew someone who did.

I smirked as a key sounded in the lock, Ransom had never given his back from a few years ago.

“Ol?” his voice echoed up the stairs.

“In the kitchen!”

The old stairs creaked as he ascended, heading straight for the refrigerator without even looking at me.

“Hey,” he nodded in greeting.

“Hey.” For the first time in my life, I was nervous talking to him. I’d texted him, asking if he could stop by, which wasn’t out of character. He usually popped in at least once a month to return a book, pick up a sweater he forgot that my mom had washed or have dinner with us. He lingered, even after moving out. The flight from Princeton to Boston was only an hour, and it meant a lot to Gian, to all of us, really, that Ransom still visited.

While Ransom dug through the fridge, pulling out some leftover chorizo, I set about throwing together some protein smoothies for us. He had left a container of ridiculously expensive something something collagen protein at our house the last time he was there and it was expiring soon, so I split the remainder between us. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him fuss with the microwave.

I raised a brow. “You know how to use kitchen appliances?”

He took an exaggerated bite of a sausage slice. “Selectively,” he winked.

I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. Ransom’s “selective” helplessness didn’t need encouragement.

I think what we worked in was companionable silence, but I’m not positive. I was pretty geared up, so it was hard to tell. Settling at the table, I laid plates out for both of us, chewing my lip.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“I can’t get you into Yale early decision, but I can get you in,” he said as he reached for his smoothie.

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve already gotten into Brown on my own, which was my first choice, thank you. What I need is… different.”

“What is it? I’ve got cash with me.”

“Ransom! Listen to me. Just let me ask my question.”

“Okay!” he chuckled, his eyes gleaming as he swirled his glass.

“Okay,” I repeated, my heart pounding in my chest. I made myself look him in the eye. All of a sudden I wanted to cry? What if he said no? What if he laughed? What if he never talked to me again?

“Ol, you’re getting pale. You look like you’re about to ask me to skin a cat.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, seconds away from losing my nerve. I inhaled deeply, folding my hands on the table in front of me and sitting up straight.

“Ransom,” I began.

“Olivia,” he countered, his face comically serious.

“I want you to take my virginity. Now that I’m 18—.”

“Hah—You what? No you don’t, Olivia, you don’t—.”

“I do.”

“Ehhhh,” he made a pained face and shook his head. “I mean, what do you mean by virginy? What have you done before?”

“Nothing.”

“But you’ve given head though, right?”

I tried to mask my embarrassment with a look of disdain.

When Ransom gaped in surprise, I kicked him under the table.

“A handjob?”

“I said nothing,” I bit out.

The corner of his mouth pulled upward and he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “What about like… getting off with each other?”

I shook my head.

“Sexting?”

“There’s no one I want to sext.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“But like…”

“I’ve never touched or been touched, Ransom. I’ve never seen a man naked, okay?”

He sighed. “I don’t do virgins. It’s a personal policy. Especially someone like you who has absolutely no experience.”

That stung, but I kept trying. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No—.”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Ol, I don’t date—.”

“Ransom, this is exactly the type of arrangement you want!” I hissed.

“This should be something you do with a boyfriend, someone your age who you care about and who cares about you.”

I groaned and stormed into the living room, plopping into an easy chair.

“I don’t want a boyfriend. I’m going to Brown in the fall, so dating someone now would be pointless. And in Providence, between Chi Omega, studying, volunteering, and AMSA, I just won’t have time for a relationship.”

Ransom couldn’t suppress a laugh as he tailed after me. “You’re as heartless as I am.”

“I’m not heartless,” I argued. “I’m practical.”

He gave me a patronizing smile. “You’ve never done this before, you don’t know how you’ll feel afterwards. It’s sex. Girls get attached. I just can’t do that, babe.”

"You can! Ransom, you can. I won’t get attached. I’ll leave you alone after. I won’t text you for a month. Please? I—,” my cheeks flamed as I looked down at my hands. Bickering and bantering with Ransom was easy. Acting like I disliked him was easy. But being vulnerable with him? That was terrifying. “I want it to be you,” I whispered. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

With a sigh, he perched on the arm of my chair.

“I’m going back to Princeton on Sunday. Even if we did it tonight, we wouldn’t have 48 hours together.”

“I don’t care!” I slapped the seat of the chair. “What if—what if I get roofied and lose it to some guy and don’t even remember it? Or—or someone, you know… one in every four women faces sexual assault in college…”

That perpetual, devious gleam in Ransom’s eyes disappeared. Something brutal and vicious replaced it.

“I’d kill him. I’d kill anyone who touched you like that.”

My chest tightened. I’d never seen him that serious before, not even when he argued with his mom. It was a little terrifying. But, I had carried pepper spray on me for years since moving to the city and I already knew my parents were sending me to college with a SipChip, not that I’d be going to parties anyway. I tried another angle.

“I know I’m not the girls you normally sleep with—blonde, white, with yachts and horses and trust funds—

Darkness cast over his face.

“Olivia,” he interrupted. Brow creasing, Ransom lifted his hand near my face, then hesitated. With a growl, he cupped my jaw. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, brushing the knuckle of the opposite hand against my cheek. “And trust funds are so mundane.”

I rose from the chair and leaned against his leg. “Then why don’t you want me?” It took everything in me to keep my voice from breaking.

Ransom shifted uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ol, I’ve known you since you were a kid. I can’t—I just don’t see you that way.”

“You still see me as a child?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Butterflies flapped madly in my belly, but I held my breath and stepped forward between his legs until our chests were pressed together, trapping my hand between us at his groin. Praying that I applied what I had read correctly, I timidly felt for his cock. He grunted when I wrapped my hand around the outline of its shape and followed it with a shy stroke.

“I am not a child,” I husked in my best seductress voice.

“You said you’d never touched or been touched,” he accused through clenched teeth.

Both proud and embarrassed, I ducked my head. “I don’t like entering a situation unprepared. I read a lot and watched some videos.” Realizing the implications of my statement, I turned beet red. “For research, I mean!”

That earned me a genuine smile. Sliding one hand around my waist he pulled me closer, then used the other to firmly guide my palm over his half erect cock, rubbing it back and forth. I blushed as I felt him harden under my fingers.

“What else did you research?”

"Stuff,” I mumbled.

Rubbing his thumb along my hipbone, his gaze fell to his lap, watching my hand work over his erection. Then his eyes deviated to my front, trailing up my belly to my chest, which was, admittedly, heaving, and slowly made their way to my face. Looking someone in the eye had never made me clench down there before. It was unexpected, but not unappreciated.

I could see Ransom thinking, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine as he reasoned with himself.

“You need to think this over, you need to really consider what you’re asking me and decide that’s what you want,” he murmured, his voice rough.

My pussy throbbed at the sound, and it took extra concentration not to let my eyes close.

“When have I ever made a rash decision about something this important? I started thinking about this a year ago.”

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

When his hips gave an involuntary thrust against my palm, he gently pulled my wrist away.

“That’s enough for now.”

Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. “Did I do it wrong? Is that a no?”

He massaged his closed eyelids with his index finger and thumb, exhaling shakily. “It should be a no. A good man would say no.”

Drawing me against him once more, I whimpered as he ground his cock against my belly. “But I’ve never been a good man, have I, Olivia?”

He didn’t give me an opportunity to respond. The kiss was firm, but delicate. No tongues or biting or slipping or sliding, just lips pressed together, gently massaging. When he sucked at my lower lip I surprised both of us with a soft moan, causing him to bury his hand in my hair and tilt my head for better access.

I completely lost track of everything, because the next moment of consciousness I had was gasping for air as he pulled away. My fingers were tangled in his hair, my hand clutching his sweater like it was a lifeline, and his thigh was situated between both of mine, applying pressure to my clit that was making me see stars. Now my mouth was wet, but I didn’t care.

Once I could see straight, I dove for his mouth again, but he stopped me with an unyielding grip on my chin.

“Change,” he rumbled. “We’ll go to dinner at Menton, I’ll pull some strings and get us a table. Then back to my apartment.”

I squinted, still reeling from the kiss. “We’re not going to Menton first, that makes it sound like a date. This isn’t a date, we have one mission to accompli—.”

He gaze grew cold. “If we do this, we’re doing it my way. You’re going to listen to me. I’m in charge.”

My eyes flicked back and forth between his as my entire face and neck glowed pink.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Say ‘Yes, sir,’” he corrected me.

“Yes, sir,” I repeated softly.

The pleased smile that spread across his lips gave me a warm feeling in my belly.

“Tonight, I’m going to destroy your pussy,” he whispered against my ear, sucking at my lobe, “I’m going to make you come like a whore.” Moving to my other side, he spoke softly again, his warm breath against my cheek making me shiver. “Your future husband will resent me for the rest of your lives, because I’m going to ruin you for any other man.” Nuzzling my nose with the tip of his, he kissed the corner of my mouth. “And you’re going to love it.”

I couldn’t help myself. I was throbbing, there was pressure building in my belly and the man had barely laid a hand on me. With a high pitched whimper, I sought his mouth again, but he wrapped his huge hand around my throat and shook his head as he held me back.

“Go. Pick out something nice to wear. Something you feel pretty in.”

Mouth dry, I nodded. He caught my arm as I went to leave.

“And Olivia? Not a scrap of clothing underneath.”

#ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale smut #ransom thrombey smut #ransom smut #ransom x ofc #ransom drysdale #knives out #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #knives out spoilers #oh my god it's happening #mcudarklibrarykinkmonth

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dotaccountant · 3 years

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(LOVIE SIMONE, 23, FEMALE, SHE/HER) ⮕ Hey, isn’t that [DOROTHEA “DOT” HARTLEY]? I heard that they were a part of the crew. According to the wiki it says they’re the [ACCOUNTANT] of the group. Avid fans say that they’re [PRAGMATIC], but that they can also be [MOODY]. Maybe that’s because they’re a [CAPRICORN]. This gossip forum says they joined the group because [SHE NEEDS THE MONEY]. I wonder if that’s true. I also heard they [DO NOT] believe in ghosts. I wonder if their time in arcane inc will change that. (peyton, 23, est.)

mun info.

hey girly! just wanted to let you know i literally cannot handle this right now :)

uhh okay!! my name is peyton, i’m 23, i’m a college senior, i’m a libra, i’ve been rping for [redacted] years. i managed to escape for like two years until quarantine hit so here i am, like a dog going back to its’ vomit. i’m an illiterate roman roy enthusiast lesbian who is just excited to be here. my discord is ilyinichna#9370 (not me outing myself as a russian lit nerd. disgusting). please feel free to add me!!!

some cheeky stats.

full name: dorothea eloise hartley nicknames: dot by the crew, dottie exclusively by her mother, lame ass nerd by me birthdate: december 31st, 1997 occupation: accountant for arcane inc. nationality: american

orientation: bisexual moral alignment: lawful good myers-briggs: infp temperament: melancholic

about.

it snowed the day dot was born, her mother would say fondly as she reminisced of better times for the two. edna hartley always made it a point to say no matter what she was conceived out of love and for awhile, dot believed that. her parents met when her mother was touring europe and she fell for a charming french aspiring writer, louis, who said all of the right things. not long after their summer romance, edna found out she was pregnant and at first louis was thrilled. he proposed on the spot. edna had dreams of becoming a stage actress so the two flew out to a shoebox apartment in new york to start their little family.

except edna never got her big break and louis never even started the next great novel and the bills were piling up. they were getting money from edna’s family, but louis’s pride wouldn’t accept it any longer. he took two jobs while edna stayed home with baby dot.

she loved dot and dot herself never doubted it, but she was certainly not ready to be a mother. she was immature and treated her only daughter more like a best friend than her child. taking care of a child all day with no escape took a strain on edna and eventually took a strain on her marriage. what started as harsh whispers would soon turn into screaming matches that dot could hear through the thin walls. it was that way for years and dot looked at her parents differently. she had resentment for her father and the feeling was mutual, he blamed them for the fact he never achieved his dream. the older dot grew she soon was the one taking care of edna, who some days couldn’t even get out of bed.

dot comes home from school at fifteen to see her and edna’s bags packed. she says the two of them are going to california and dot goes with her without any hesitation. a new start was what they needed, they could look out for each other.

except it wasn’t. edna and dot both work odd jobs to make ends meet and when dot isn’t at school she’s accompanying her mother to auditions that she doesn’t get called back for. she scores a few commercials which is enough to keep them afloat for a brief amount of time. much of dot’s teen years are spent apartment hopping, couch surfing, and sleeping in motels throughout LA. if she was younger she might have been charmed by their vagabond lifestyle, but dot knew they couldn’t live that way forever.

if anything, dot learned a lot about how money worked when she was young. she always had a knack for numbers and after crunching the numbers to figure out if you could pay your electric bill for the month really gives you an advantage. she learned how to budget because no one else was going to.

she’s working a job doing data entry when she first hears of arcane inc. one of her coworkers wouldn’t stop talking about them. dot isn’t interested as she’s never though much about the supernatural, chalking up companies like arcane to exploit people’s fears. no thanks. her mother believed in spirits enough for the both of them. (besides if karma was real, she would’ve seen a check from louis for the book deal he got over a year ago).

dot does go down a rabbit hole though when she realizes just how big of a following aracane has. people will really believe anything. the moment she sees that they’re hiring, she sees it as an opportunity. a company with millions of followers has to give their employees a reasonable salary. she didn’t have any real work experience outside of her office job but she was damn good with numbers and she was already used to traveling.

she’s been at arcane inc. for about a year now and still doesn’t really get what all the hype is about but that doesn’t matter. dot makes enough to send money to edna and she’s even started to put money aside to go to college. dot’s never been one to dream big, look at what it did to her parents, so she’s planned out every step without reaching out too far for the stars.

headcanons.

yeah her mom’s a failed theater actress but dot has a really secret love for musicals. you won’t find her ever talking about it though and if anyone found out she’d kill them. not joking don’t text.

her social media presence is little to none. not that she thinks she’s above it but she’s just genuinely bad at keeping up and she doesn’t love being in front of a camera. (her instagram posts are all blurry with bad filters and weird angles, bless her heart).

she’s probably the most stubborn person you will ever meet. i blame it on her being an earth sign i’m just saying a ghost could be right in front of her and she’d go and?

dot’s a really good listener (years of practice) and will take secrets to the grave but she’s pretty bad at giving advice. she doesn’t really know what to do when someone starts crying except give them an awkward pat.

her intuition is pretty good though. she’s good at reading situations she just doesn’t know how to react sometimes.

tw abuse: so while her father was never physically abusive, there was an incident from when she was twelve. he had been drinking and dot got out of bed to get water from the kitchen. he yells at her, as he often did, and throws an empty beer bottle at her. she threw up her arms to defend herself and there are still a few scars from the glass shards.

the way to her heart? anything peppermint which i know is arguably the worst dessert flavor but she can’t get enough of it.

tends to chew on things when she’s working. no pen cap is safe. she usually has candies on her so she has something to munch on.

connection ideas.

i prefer chemistry over anything else!! these are just some ideas to get the ball rolling. (also i am so bad at coming up with connections.)

friends. i mean....yeah jsfdkljfd. as basic as that is she just never had many of those growing up! dot’s kept a few people close but for the first time in her life she’s out of reach from her mother so it’s a good chance to socialize.

more specifically? a best friend. in the same vein but dot would really put this person above everyone else. she’s really loyal and it’d be nice to have such a close bond with someone.

a childhood friend or two too!! she’s moved around quite a bit but she stayed in new york (and she considers when she first moved to la still part of her childhood) for quite a bit, definitely long enough to make a connection!

someone she’s pulling out of trouble maybe. while dot’s not a maternal figure (leave that to the nurturer) she does have a compulsive need to help people out. it’s very frustrating but she can’t stop.

negative nancy. she can be so pessimistic and annoying so she’d appreciate having someone she could just vent to.

exes. it has to be a past relationship because dot is not a hook up person like AT ALL, but she’s human and she likes companionship (sometimes).

honestly whatever you can think of! cousins, pen pals, unrequited crush (either way), friend crush, enemies, people she avoids, shared interest buddies, good/bad influence!

#( *about. )#( *ooc. )#arcaneintro

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fireblogger · 3 years

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Common Money Mistakes

Disposing of disposable income. As you move into the corporate world, or your trade, or even get a promotion at your current job you may start seeing more money coming into your account. Bigger paychecks, better benefits, maybe even bonuses. You’ll probably also start seeing some bigger temptations. When I first started getting a decent paycheck my temptation was to go to the mall and shop at stores like JCPenney’s or Torrid. Now, I spent my entire life buying clothes at second hand stores a couple shirts and pairs of jeans a year. So Torrid’s nice business clothes? That was fancy. I went, I found a brand they carried that I liked quite a bit and I bought several shirts and a few pairs of pants, a blazer with some blouses Maybe spent a couple hundred over a few months, now it would not be exaggerating to say that’s about how much I had spent on clothes my entire life. ($10-15 annual budget 6th grade onwards). And at first it was nice, I was so happy to have made it to the point where I could go out and buy myself a nice shirt. And you know what, that was nice. But it didn’t make me happy in the long-term. After two or three months I stopped going – because sure now I had some nice shirts and business clothes, but I never really wore them. Instead, I started buying Gildan brand shirts online from shops like blankapparel. They’re $2-3 heavy cotton shirts that last forever and are really nice quality. All that disposal income I had been disposing of on clothes was rerouted to high-yield savings accounts instead.

Spending too much on housing. Now, I’m a sucker for an apartment with a washer and dryer in the unit. When I bought my duplex literally what I was most excited about was the fact that there was a washer and dryer. I’m not kidding the first night I drove up an hour from my apartment just to do half a load of laundry. So I can absolutely understand wanting to spend extra on a location with a washer and dryer – but the question is how much extra in my area a washer and dryer can increase rent by ~$100/month if not more. The rule I’ve heard several times is to spend less than 30% of your income on your housing, however that percent is greatly dependent on the cost of living. My rule of thumb – get the cheapest livable place you can find with as many roommates as you can stand. I spent years wishing I had a washer and dryer and instead spent years saving that extra $100 a month (well $50 since I had at least one roommate). So my advice is to find somewhere that’s close enough to your job/school that you can still get there with heating/cooling/no pests and to start saving money from there. Of course, if having an really nice apartment, or having privacy with no roommates is important to you take that into consideration. Just make sure you are considering the future value of that extra rent money instead of just the present value.

Debt. Emergency funds are important, and everyone should have something even if it’s not the 3 – 6 months salary that’s often recommended. Honestly, even an emergency $100 could be very important to have. Some people will use credit cards as their emergency fund, this should be your absolute last resort. Credit cards have very high interest rates, which means that any expenses paid for on a card will grow at an alarmingly fast rate. Say you have a sudden $500 expense, and you have a 24% APY credit card. That means that you will need to pay an additional 2% of interest every month. But because that 2% of interest is compounding it’s not the same as adding $10 every month, instead it’s adding $10 of principal. Which means that your next 2% interest add is 510 * 1.02 rather than 500 * 1.02. Let’s say in this scenario that you make a payment of $15 a month towards your $500 debt. It will take you 56 months to pay down the balance, and you will end up paying over $332 in interest. Making your total cost closer to $832.It will take almost two years before your $15 payment goes more towards principal than interest! Now imagine spending that $500 on a new phone, or pair of shoes, or some other non-essential non-emergency. It’s a bad idea.

Not saving for Retirement. Now this whole blog is geared towards early retirement, but that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Maybe you like your job. Maybe you don’t mind your job and prefer living at a certain income level rather than trying to save every penny for retirement. Maybe you’re early in your career and don’t feel like you make enough to save for early retirement. You should still be saving for retirement. The greatest asset we have is time, and investing earlier even if it’s in small amounts, gives it time to grow. A $1,000 invested when you’re 25 can grow to be double what $1,000 invested when you’re 35 would. Even if it’s only a few dollars a week start investing early, brokerage platforms like Robinhood have very low minimums and you can invest in funds or ETFs on it.

If you invest, don’t be conservative. I had this problem when I first started investing. I let an older finance manager invest my first $3,000 with the understanding that it would be a retirement account. HE PUT IT ALL I N BONDS???? Okay, I’m young, I should be focused on growth with most if not all of my funds in stock. They’re higher risk, but if I’m planning on holding them for 20-30 years that risk is greatly mitigated. I lost over a year of growth before I realized that the retirement fund he had put my money in was intended for people in the 50s to 60s that already had a decent amount of value and now needed lower risk and lower growth investment vehicles. Since I moved my portfolio out of bonds and into stocks it has nearly doubled, the red line is when I realized my mistake and switched my funds into a stock portfolio.

Go big or Go Home!

#finance #personal finance #money #money tips #investing #money advice #fireblog #fireblogger

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sad-buttrue04 · 3 years

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My tragic love story

Here is the story of how I killed the love of my life.

When I was 5 years old my dog died, I thought that was the worst pain I would ever experience. Then, when I was 13 so did my mom. I was raised by her all of my life, so when she died I was left to take care of myself. I didn’t trust the system so I ran. I didn’t even see my own mother’s funeral. I’ve lived in shelters and slept on benches for nearly six years. That was until I met him. However, before that, I learned to fend for myself. I kept a small blade for my own protection and sang on the streets to get enough cash to ride the subway. When I was 17 I got my first job as a dishwasher at a local italian restaurant. Everyday I cleaned for the kind family that hired me and went home to the cool air in my local park. When I had the money I would splurge on a hotel for the night but between food and my minimum wage salary permanent housing wasn’t an option. When I got a bit more experience they moved me to the front. I worked as a server and very quickly became a fan favorite. I was always asked to serve the picky guests because the Monachelo’s knew they would leave happy, but this day was different. Mrs. Monachelo looked tense as she assigned me my next table. I walked out with a smile on my face as normal as she sent me off with a light prayer in Italian. As I approached the table I saw four men. They were younger than our normal guests and looked closer to 23 and then I saw him. He had to be the most intimidating and attractive man I had ever seen. He hadn’t even looked at me yet. As I began taking the mens orders I finally got to him. He looked up at me for the first time, as we locked eyes, I knew this man would change my life forever. The order went as normal except I was too nervous to look back up at his face. The tip they left was generous and could cover a few nights at a motel.As time went by he began to show up at least once a week. Finally I built the courage to look up and ask him his name.When I asked his name he responded “ My name is Luca, but most call me The Don.” I told him I was confused, I didn’t know how The Don related to Luca, but it was better than calling him the cute table boy. For the first time we actually held a conversation. He offered me to sit and have a drink with him, but not wanting to upset Mrs.Monachello, I respectfully declined. However, what I wasn't expecting was for Mrs. Monchello to put me on break immediately after, and insist that I sit and talk to him. We talked for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than 45 minutes. The conversation ended with a “see you tomorrow” and I knew I would. After that day I spent all of my breaks talking to Luca.The one day he asked to meet me somewhere outside of the restaurant. I didn’t think I would be so quick to agree, until he asked me where I lived. I didn’t know what to say so I just asked him to meet me at the park, little did he know, that was my home.For the next 2 weeks we saw each other at my job and occasionally went on dates. I never expected to fall for a man so hard so quickly, but this man was different from any man I had ever met. However I felt that he was catching on to the fact that I was homeless. He started asking questions like “ when can I finally drop you off at home?” I thought of the day I would have to come clean but he decided for me.” Aliyah, you live at this park don’t you?” I started to deny it, but I could see in his eyes that he already knew, so I came clean.From that day forward, I began living with him. I was shocked to see the home he lived in. I knew his car was nice, but I didn't expect to arrive at the most luxurious penthouse in the city. The man I was falling in love with seemed to also be the richest man in Manhattan. That time I spent with him was the best of my life. I lived with him, laughed with him, and I loved him. I never knew how he got his fortune and he never really explained it to me. He owned a successful company so I always assumed it came from there. He cared for me in a way I had never been cared for. I kept my job because I didn’t want to be dependent on him, though he insisted that i didn’t need it. One day, I was off and we sat in what I now considered our home together when it started. The doorbell rang and a small package was on the porch. I brought it in like normal and handed it to him. When he opened it there was a note that read, “ We see you and the girl.” Inside was a photo of Luca and I leaving the restaurant. I looked up to find that Luca was enraged, but also scared. With his fists clenched he didn’t give me time to ask any questions, “Aliyah we need to go somewhere safe. I should have never involved you in my life.” I was hurt, confused and scared. “I don’t understand, please tell me what's going on.” He seemed shaken, “ Listen baby you have to trust me to keep you safe.” my response was simple, “ Always.” We left within the next hour and hopped on his private jet to a small town in Tennessee called Jackson. We rented an apartment under a new name and paid in cash. For a few more weeks we lived happily. I made friends with the neighbors and found a job at the local Green Frog Cafe. Luca worked from home to manage his company and everything seemed to be getting back to normal. I had another surprise in store for Luca. I was pregnant. I didn’t know when to tell him so I decided to hide it for a few more weeks. I didn’t know how he would take the news. Two weeks later, I handed him a cake on Father’s Day that said congratulations on being a dad. His response, “ Now, what is this for?” I rubbed my belly and smiled nervously at him. He looked at me in shock and then jumped up and kissed me. One year with the love of my life and soon we would be a family. The days passed and my belly grew as did our love, but then the doorbell rang. This time Luca got the door. I looked over his shoulder and asked who it was from. He didn't respond and sat at the table to open it. “ You didn’t think we would find you? Your little wife looks good pregnant.” This was the final straw. It was time for Luca to explain. We had more than just ourselves to look after now. “ Luca, I need to know everything now,” I paused to rub my belly, “ for his sake.” He finally began to tell me his story. Luca grew up in a Mafia family. He was next in line to inherit the position of The Don and he never really wanted it. He took over and changed a few things to make it more beneficial than harmful. In the process he angered a few opposing families as well as allies. He was done with the trade that came with the Mafia and made that clear to them, however they didn’t seem to understand or take no for an answer. One of the sons from an older house came and attacked Luca so in order to protect himself he killed the boy. Ever since then, they have been on a hunt to avenge their lost son. I was lost for words. “I’m sorry I did this to you baby. I would have never involved you, but I couldn’t stay away,” A single tear had fallen down his face. “ I was so selfish and look where it got me. I’m sorry.” I held him and cried on his shoulder. We would get through this together. At least that’s what I thought. We went to bed together and I woke up alone. There was nothing but a letter that read, “ I’ve left. Don’t look for me. Take care of our boy. I love you. -Luca” I was lost. The love of my life was gone and I was pregnant and alone. I mourned for a living man until the birth of our son. A year later I received a package. They were never a good sign to me anymore, but I opened it because it was addressed to me, but with Luca’s Surname, Aliyah Donachelli. There was a letter and a necklace. The letter read, “ Hey baby, I hope you have been taking care of our boy. I wish I could have seen him. I set this letter to be sent to you upon my death. I made sure there would never be any threat to you or him ever again. I left a locket for you and put everything I own in your name. You are the love of my life and our time was cut short. For that I am remorseful, but I want you to always remember that I left this earth with only you in my heart. I love you to the moon and beyond Aliyah Donachelli. That's the name I wanted to share with you one day. Love, Luca.” I cried. I sobbed for every moment lost and every thing I could have had with him. Then I opened the locket. It was a picture of Luca and I at our baby shower. I don’t know what I’ll tell him about his father, but I surely can’t tell Luca Donachelli Jr. the story of how I killed the love of my life.

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nachohypno · 4 years

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Pine’s College Jocks 2 Ch. 6 - (Re)Building time!

Leo’s POV

I do believe in destiny.

Or I have to, otherwise this would be a very specific chain of coincidences that would have made me very mad, but it didn’t seem to be the case.

Barrinfield city wasn’t exactly where I was headed, but business is business. I was looking forward for a meeting to further expand the company I own, since these things are usually pretty simple. But, the wealthy guys decided to change the place of the meeting to near

A few words, breaking the wills of my comrades and enforcing mine over theirs. As soon as that’s done, I can start counting a couple more numbers in the company’s records.

I walked in the building I was staying in, a hotel with great ratings. Some would call me selfish, because I use my mind control powers to get what I want, but I really don’t care. I AM the one with mind control powers, there must be a reason why I’ve got them.

But I’m bloody sure it doesn’t involve helping some weirdos become professional football players, that’s some… weird fantasy fetish world Piney lives in. (Besides, everyone knows that rugby is waaaay better than football).

Don’t get me wrong, I love that guy. Seeing someone so… ‘pure’ to call it some way, not being corrupted by the powers and trying to do good with them. He’s nice to be around but he also seems kinda… I dunno, but not like dumb because he’s probably way smarter than me.

I got in the elevator and pressed the second-to-last button.

And now, we got ourselves in a bit of a situation. Changing my ways? Not something I thought I would be doing in my Saturdays but alright, I’m amazing so I’ll handle this like a pro.

Besides, he’ll be changing his ways too. Maybe he would learn how things work when you are an all-powerful mind controller.

I mean, I see it like this: There are two kinds of people. Normal people, who live their lives thinking they are free, and want mundane things like the new Xbox, a good job, etc.

Then, us mind controllers. Pine and I are the only ones I’m aware of, but that’s still enough. We have the power to change someone’s personality, routine, likes and dislikes. Their way of thinking, or how they see the world, too!

He wants to do good with his powers? That’s great, and I’m really proud of him for that. But I honestly prefer what I do. Living my life to the fullest and just… taking what I want, because who would stop to think about it when you are basically a god?

Okay, I’m going way over the top here. But, my point is, we’ve both been blessed with this gift, and I’d like him to try out new things before settling down and doing charity for the rest of his life.

He does seem to have a pretty thought of system by the way he handles off things in his campus. Enjoying his good college years while also playing fair. I didn’t do that, nah. I preferred just telling my professors to give me a good grade, since I couldn’t see myself in the future using boring stuff in my work.

The elevator’s doors opened and I was greeted by a corridor. I walked up to my door and entered the apartment I was staying in during my staying in Pine’s city.

I was greeted by a pretty good view, as Alan was still working out in the middle of the room. He was the previous owner of LeoCorp, my old classmate didn’t hesitate to pass the ownership to me after I was done with him.

Now, he was my mindless bro, wanting to keep himself big and strong to serve his master. Hey, I love pretty buffed guys and good looking girls. But I shoot more for the gay side of my bisexuality, I feel a deeper connection with my bros. (“Deeper”, get that?)

I moved towards my friend. He was mumbling numbers as he did some pushups. “59… 60… 61…”

Alan was just a few months younger than me, with blond hair, perfectly smooth body, and a body similar to mine. Wide shoulders, lean torso with nice abs and pecs. When I wasn’t around, he worked out or resumed his assistant’s duties, doing most of my job for me.

After he unwillingly gave me his company, I decided to repay him by making him a permanent slave of mine. He had a good salary, but he didn’t care those lil’ details as long as he was able to serve me.

But, I’ve made a deal. Being more… “nice” with my powers. I’ve got in front of Alan as he did his pushups and stared at him.

He stopped as soon as he noticed me, and looked at me with a big grin “Master! How long have you been there? I’m sorry I haven’t-”

“Quiet, I’m trying to work here” I said, trying to concentrate. I stared at his eyes, trying to reestablish our little mind link. I hoped Pine could someday teach me how he manages to make his mind links permanent, because having them for a few hours was a pain in the ass, honestly.

There, I created the bond. Alan’s eyes became glassy as I toyed with his mind. He was a puppet, a mere pet looking forward to pleasure and obey his master… Well, not anymore.

I tried my best to repair him, just like I remembered him, at least. A friendly and funny guy at my university, with a lot of energy and ideas to take his family business to the sky. Ultimately, he managed to achieve that, just not as the president of it.

I cared for my friend, and I would never destroy his life. But a naïve mistake (Uh… my fault, sorry) left him without his mind, and that’s… that’s something I didn’t know how to fix. I’ve never really looked deeply into it, either. I’ve got into that college because of a rugby scholarship, but my mind control powers also helped a lot with the recruiters.

After learning Pine was a psychology major, I assumed he did the same thing as I did. Mind control your way into being the best of the class, but that didn’t seem to be the case. The guy actually paid attention and tried to study hard enough to be the best, while also using his powers to help others achieve the same result.

Having confirmed that he had the brains and was smarter than me, I wanted to ask him for help with this issue but… I have to give the example. I’m supposed to be older, better, stronger, I’m running out of adjectives to describe how I’m supposed to be superior, and I wanted to think that he looked up to me the day we’ve met.

Besides, he did it already, with the swimming coach. Another accident on my behalf, but he managed to fix it quite easily. Something I haven’t achieved before, but he was angry with me after that, so I didn’t dare to ask him if he could repeat it with someone he never met before.

I could see why, I had to send him my memories of our time together at college, and recreate his personality from there. A big fan of football and baseball, but not that athletic himself. I fixed that when I made him mine, too.

But now… humanity returned to him, as his expression faded and was quickly replaced by confusion.

He still was enthralled, since I didn’t finish with the last details. He still knew who his family was, he regained his knowledge from college, and everything that he became oblivious to returned to his mind.

I snapped my fingers in front of him. The new Alan blinked a few times, before crawling a few meters away from me. “What… Where…? …Leo?”

“Hey…” I offered my hand to him “It’s okay, let me explain everything”

But he didn’t seem to want any explanation. He looked angry, but scared at the same tme“What are you going to explain?” He mumbled. “H-How you ruined my life? How you took over my family company and made it yours?” Alan’s eyes teared up as he looked around. This is… weird, Alan would never act like this. “And what the bloody fuck is this place, Leo?”

Seems like he could remember everything that happened while under my control. That was unexpected. Still, something wasn’t right about him.

“This is… this is our place, man” I said, with a reassuring smile “Barrinfield city, in the US. Isn’t that awesome?”

“Why, Leo?” He looked up at me, without moving his body, only his head as he now noticed his very muscled body and checked himself out while remaining wary of me. “Why did you do this to me? I was your friend!”

“It wasn’t… It was not something personal, I do it with everyone!” I tried to excuse myself, but he tried to get up. He almost fell, it was like he was (or felt) weak.

“B-But that doesn’t mean you should do it! I had a business to lead! And… the first thing I remember is…” He scratched his head “It’s sorta foggy, but I remember being in our college dorm, and you seemed pissed for some reason. Twenty minutes later, I was on my knees and… I couldn’t think anymore, because of you”

I should have felt guilty, but I couldn’t. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel bad for my actions, because I made him happy. He couldn’t forget about how blissful and happy he felt while under my control, and that’s probably what bothered him. The asshole should be thanking me!

“It was not intentional; and by the time, I didn’t know I could bring you back!”

“That’s a good reason to take over MY company, right?” Alan lumped over on the couch and just laid there, looking at me with sadness in his eyes. He wasn’t mad, he seemed more… disappointed, and scarred about these last few years.

I wasn’t lying, I didn’t know I could rebuild someone’s personality based on his information and memories. Pine did it like a natural, with coach Chris. That means I’m a horrible mind controller? Probably, but in my defense, I barely cared to search for an answer, either.

“You had no mind” I explained. “You weren’t in condition to run such an important business! I tried to make it work and fix you but… you know how that went, I could only do so much and luckily you got back to working in no time!”

“Yeah. As your assistant. So much bloody bullshit, man. You know what’s the worst part?” I raised an eyebrow. Something worse? “I still feel you inside my head, like some kind of parasite waiting for you to say something so I can jump out of this sofa and obey. And I hate it. This is not life, Leo. And… I rather not live like this.”

I moved over to his side “What are you talking about? This can totally work out! You’re back now, Al!”

But he shook his head “Bring me back under. At least, I was happy like that, and I seemed to work out a lot during these few years. C’mon, unless you want me to do something we’ll both regret” He sounded in pain, like he really didn’t want to be here right now.

‘Fuck,’ I thought ‘I fucked up again’

But I knew that this wasn’t Alan, not really. The real Alan wasn’t like this, and he knew it. If it wasn’t his normal personality who was in control of his body, he wouldn’t want to be back at all.

This was probably my fault, too. I made this Alan with my memories, but… maybe it got also mixed with my own thoughts?

I do think it was a bit of an asshole move, taking over his company instead of passing it on to another member of his family. He does have a sister, after all. It just didn’t feel right at the moment, and I had to think fast!

Maybe my insecurities went into his new personality too, and he started acting like I imagined he would? I couldn’t know for certain, being a mind controller was both a pain in the ass, and a gift from heaven.

He was too prideful to let me toy with his mind before, and he was still that prideful when he knew that he wasn’t really in control of his body. Not with me around, at least. And he was right, I could feel in our fainting mind link that he was dying for crawling towards me and pleasuring his master.

“Very well” I mumbled, looking back into his eyes, trying to strengthen our mind link “Just look into my eyes, and relax. Feel everything around you vanish, as you let my voice lead you… deeper and deeper”

His expression gave a 180°, a nice smile replacing the previous anger/sadness. His eyes glazed as the mind link reappeared, and I pushed his barely functional new personality to the back of his mind. Pine was right, this was easy.

Would have been cool to find it out in a less painful way.

“How do you feel, Al?” I asked him, caressing his face.

“Good, master… But that doesn’t matter, how may I serve you today?” And now, he was the mindless Alan he was a few hours ago. I felt like shit now, I never wanted this. And as much as I hated to say this… I needed to learn how to control my powers to avoid doing this ever again.

Better late than never, huh?

I sat beside him on the sofa. “Just… hug me, a’ight?”

“Yes, master!” He said, before hugging me with a blissful expression in his face.

“I’m so sorry, man. I really am” But it was kinda pointless. Apologizing to someone who doesn’t have awareness nor personality.

I fucked up big time when I enslaved him, and I fucked up big time again.

I needed more help from Pine than I thought I would need. Fuck my life, but that’s not a bad thing, right?

My mind controller friend will probably help me become a better and nicer mind controller, without a doubt!

----

Pine’s POV

I honestly didn’t know what to do.

I mean, having Mike become a mindless slave was fun for a while, but it’s not like now I’m going to leave my place and starting yelling at strangers “Hey YOU! You will obey me!” Then point at another guy and yell “You will also obey me! EVERYONE WILL OBEY MEEEE!!”

No, that thought made me shiver. It could work, because of the verbal mind control, but it would be really, really weird (and wrong) to do.

I preferred just chilling for now, and tomorrow I’ll get back to my normal routine. Leo didn’t give me exact instructions, he just told me to “have more fun and be less moral about it”, so I’m pretty free. I think he would have a harder time with his part of the deal.

Although… I don’t really think it counts as a deal? Seemed more like we were making a bet, or daring each other like little kids.

I imagined a little Leo next to a little me, as the two little mind controllers got into a heated argument. “I bet you can’t have fun with your powers!” Little Leo said, before Little me answered a “Yuh-uh!”

“Nuh-uh!” Little Leo answered, trying to mock my little self.

“Yuh-uh!” Lil’ Pine said again, and they just continued like that. I chuckled at the imaginary scenario playing in my head.

I could easily have more fun if I wanted, and then wipe off any change I made after I’m done with it. It’s a nice thing, knowing that I can back up their personalities before actually messing with them.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking about what to do, and Mike wasn’t around to have fun with him. He went to the university’s gym, before his first class.

It’s been a few days since I’ve made that “deal” with Leo, and I barely did anything with my powers (except for the usual stuff, like helping the football team and etc). It’s not that I’m lazy, if anything I’d like to be over with this as soon as possible, forget about it and go back to my average college student/jock master life.

I sighed. “Better get to work” I told myself, as I got up from my bed. But… what could I do?

I contemplated my phone in my hand as I thought about it. Finishing with my plan would be nice, I’ve had coach Peter/Brody, Mark, Chris and Geoff under my control. Mike wanted to help out too, but I decided to finish with the plan first before getting him in there.

Hmm… Now that I think of it, looking over for Chris would be a good thing. Trying to see if his rebuilt personality is fully working after the little… incident we had after meeting.

Yeah. That will be good, and I’ll also present him with his chores and work at the club.

‘Excellent idea!’ I told myself, before answering ‘Why, thank you!’ to myself.

I… I should get going before I keep talking to myself. Yeah, that’s also a good idea. I called Chris over and summoned him to the sports club, as I grabbed my bag and left my apartment. It was going to be a good day!

----

I arrived at the entrance of the sports club, and grabbed the keys from my pocket. It’s been a while since I’ve actually been at this place, but I was used to it since Mike dragged me a lot to workout with him. (Not that I’m complaining, I have barely-noticeable definition in my muscles now!)

I looked around and noticed Chris waiting for me near the entrance. He just looked around with his headphones on.

Without his swimming cap, I noticed his blond hair was styled in a messy, kind of spiky way. It looked good on him. He was wearing some sunglasses, a plain light blue buttoned shirt and some blue shorts. His whistle was still hanging from a cord around his neck.

I must admit, it was nicer to be around him without feeling the dread of accidentally having erased his personality. But… I’d still have to be careful, because I didn’t want to break him again. He had a placeholder of a personality now, mainly created to make his body function as a normal human being.

I took a deep breath and walked up to him. He didn’t seem to notice me, so I patted his shoulder to catch his attention.

The coach looked down at me and grinned. “Hey man. Sorry, didn’t notice you there”

I mumbled a quick “Its-alright” before moving to the door and unlocking it. Chris followed me, still smiling. That’s part of the new personality, he’s excitable and happy, so he probably couldn’t wait to see the inside.

It was still quite clean, because I never asked the janitor to stop coming to work, even though the place was closed. I saw online that if you don’t keep big buildings like this one cleaned enough, it will quickly start decaying. The man received his full pay, I made sure of that too.

We were greeted by the nice view of the lobby, where people are supposed to show their credentials or sign up as a member to enter the actual thing.

Past this part, the big gym Mikey and I used to work out at (A bit unwillingly on my part, because Mike liked to play the personal trainer with me) and the doors that lead to the other parts, like the tennis court, the inside pool, and the locker rooms. I loved how this place maintained everything quite organized.

“So, what are we doing here, master?” Yup, as I suspected. When I tried to rebuild his personality I told him to treat me like a friend when in public, but as his master when alone. “You never finished explaining me my orders”

“I think you could take care of the pool area. I mean, coaching people in there and… you know, that kind of stuff”

He beamed up “Yes master! How did you know I like swimming so much? You’re the best!”

I tried to give him a warm smile, but I couldn’t help but feel bad. I sighed “By the way, did you bring what I asked you to?”

He looked at me, a bit confused, before a light bulb seemed to turn on above his head and he started looking through his pockets.

A few seconds later, he offered me his phone. “I took pictures of everything you asked in good quality, master. But what’s that for?”

I made a dismissive gesture with my hand “You’ll find out in a while. For now, why don’t we go check the pool?”

He nodded blissfully. His new personality seems to be working, at least for the basic social actions. He should be much ruder, to be honest. But I preferred to make him a nice guy instead of rebuilding him into an asshole.

…That shouldn’t be my choice, actually. But it’s not like the mind police is going to come after Leo because he erased someone’s personality and stepped out for me to fix it, right?

I had an idea for getting him back to his old self. I could totally leave him like this and he would be completely functional. But with this placeholder personality I made up, his memories weren’t working as they should. After a day or so, he messaged me about “a strange man messaging him when he was sure they never talked before, and a bunch of things that he didn’t know how they appeared on his apartment”. He NEEDED a permanent fix, and I was the one who was going to do it.

We walked through the gym, and into the locker rooms. “Do you have swimming trunks or should I get you some at the equipment store?” I tell you, this place has everything. I get why Mike loves it, and that’s some of the reason I want to see it growing again, too.

“I’m wearing my speedos, master! They feel really comfortable!” Huh, never ordered him to do that. But that’s great, it could be his original personality resurfacing!

“Great. Let’s get changed, then!”

I started to take off my clothes, slowly. I was thinking about what I had to do.

I read about this theory in one of my psychology books, about the mind and how it stores stuff. I like to think that a personality can’t be fully erased, and it can be brought back with enough stimulus and maybe some help with my powers.

That’s why I wanted him to bring a few of his things. Trophies, family photos, anything that could help me rebuild the narcissistic swimmer’s original self.

I looked at him and noticed he was already on his speedo. Quite fast, I like it.

I finished undressing and grabbed some swimming trunks from my bag, as Chris blissfully waited for me to be ready by the door.

I finished, grabbed his phone from a bench and walked towards him. “Let’s start, alright?”

“Yes, master!” Chris and I entered the pool area afterwards. The place seemed just like the one we visited just some days ago, but decorated with different announcements and a few triangles hanging from the walls (Like some kind of tournament decoration, or a party!)

The water was clean, and if I opened up this place today, no one would manage to tell it’s been closed for a few weeks already. I’ve also been hyping it up on the club’s social media so… Everything was almost ready.

Almost, because the coaches still needed some tuning in their programming.

Chris looked around, excited. I could tell he wanted to jump in and do some laps, but he had to wait for my commands.

I looked at his unlocked phone in my hand, passing pics until I found one of a big, golden trophy. It had some kind of ocean wave at the top of it and the inscription “2014’s swimming tournament – First place”, along with a picture of him and what seemed to be some good looking sibling or friend holding it up with him. Great, that may be a good start.

I showed him the picture as he did some warm up exercises. “Remember what happened here?”

He looked kind of confused, and shook his head “I know I won that because I have the trophy, but I can’t remember it happening, master. The guy’s name is Jimmy, though. I’ve learned that after texting with him a few times in the last few days, but I can’t remember much of him either. He’s a friend!”

Cool, that would make a nice start point.

I backed up his placeholder personality with the mind link, just in case something went wrong, and continued with my plan. I told him to sit down, and when he did, I pushed his personality to the back of his mind, driving him into a nice and mindless state.

His excited grin grew on his face, as his eyes became glassy. Now I wanted to have Mike in here with us, he reminded me a lot of mindless Mikey.

“I want you to listen closely, and try to search in your subconscious more information about Jimmy, can you do that for me?” I commanded him, with a bit of hope.

If everything went well… Chris would be himself in no time.

He nodded, and closed his eyes. He laid down in the ground, and I tried to look what happened in his mind with the help of our mind link. I just had to concentrate a bit… strengthen the bond and help him out…

I laid down in the floor and closed my eyes. I had to feeling that this would help, somehow, with my concentration.

As I suspected, Chris’ mind was empty, but I pushed a bit... more… I may be able to, I dunno, get something from him?

And… there I go! I could hear Chris mumbling something, but I was too focused to let this go.

I tried as hard as I could to push the enslaved swimmer deeper into the trance, and when I felt myself getting tired from doing it, I stopped and opened my eyes. “Chris?” I asked him.

The hunk beside me was drooling with his eyes totally zoned out. He barely seemed conscious, but he still answered a “Yes… master?”

“Do you know who Jimmy is?” I asked him, with hope in my voice. I didn’t care, I wanted to get somewhere with this. Anywhere, maybe just a step closer to fix the mess I indirectly caused to this poor man’s mind.

Chris gave me a very weak nod, followed by a “yes… master… Jimmy’s my… best friend…” Alright, probably something he already knew before, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

“And can you tell me more about Jimmy? How did the two of you met?” The psychologist inside of me loved this. I couldn’t wait to graduate and do this full time, it’s a piece of cake when you have mind control powers.

“Uh… Can’t… remember, master…” He dragged the words, I tried to make him push a bit deeper, until he continued speaking “Wait… Bodybuilding competition… He got in third place, and recognized me from Instagram… Became best bros afterwards…”

Holy. Cows.

I’m making progress! Hell yeah!

“Chris, you’re doing so well for me…” Hmm, maybe some stimulus from the outside may help him too? “Would you mind taking off your speedo, as you drift deeper and deeper into your subconscious?”

“Yeessss… masterrr…” He reached out for his red underwear and took it off with a kind of robotic move. Anyway, moving back to the rebuilding the swimmer part.

“I want you to listen very carefully, with each memory or fragment we recover from… the old you, Christopher Andrew Wright, you will start feeling a wave of pleasure through your entire body, but it’ll last a few seconds, vanishing until you reach a new memory, understood? When you gather all the pieces, you will feel better than you have ever felt in your life”

There, a little motivation. Chris smiled and mumbled “Yeeesss… master…” Such a nice and compliant coach I’ve got here.

“Now, going deeper…” I tapped the phone’s screen and looked for another pic. One that seemed to be a family pic, he was hugging an elder woman and a young-ish guy, probably a few years younger than Chris, who looked very much like him. I moved to show him the photo and said “What can you tell me about this one?”

He remained silent, vaguely looking at the phone with his drool still coming out of his mouth. His mind must have done ‘click’ after staring at the pic for a bit, and searching on his subconscious. The entranced Chris whispered “Mom… and ma lil’ bro…”

YAY! More progress! I wanted to yell from the excitement and adrenaline I was feeling, but that would startle the mindfucked man.

“And what can you tell me about them? Something from your childhood maybe?” Since it would be an old memory, he would probably need more effort to reach out to it. But in the state he was in now, and me pushing him deeper as he could go with the help of our mind link, this was going to be easy.

“I… My bro and I… we used to love soccer…” Huh, another jock? Not like I’m going to go out and get him but I’m always amused to hear about them.

I grew to like them a lot, the jock stereotype turning out to be one of my favorites by now. “We played a lot… until I found my passion for swimming…” A little smile crossed his expressionless face, probably because he remembered his favorite sport.

His cock started to harden too, the ‘pleasure wave’ suggestion doing its work and it made me smile for a bit, before realizing I had still work to do.

“Try holding on to the idea of swimming, and look out for when you discovered you enjoyed swimming. Can you do that for me, Chris?”

He nodded slowly again with a nice “Yeesss… master…” I waited patiently for him to work on his mind. This was going so good so far, and I couldn’t wait to see if I finally fixed Chris! If not, at least he would regain his memories, which would already make a great advance!

“I… won my first competition… it was during junior year… in high school, master…” The swimmer said. His cock was full hard by now, but that wasn’t important. I was too excited to care about horniness.

“So, are you now able to access your old memories, Chris?” The coach gave me a weak nod “Good, I want you to hold on to them in your mind, and try your best to pull them to the front, moving them from your subconscious to your conscious mind, understood?”

He didn’t seem to, given the rather confusion expression he made, but he was going to do everything I ordered him. “Yes master…”

I closed my eyes and focused on his mind link, to help him out. I would have to see if everything worked correctly after this was over, but so far, he seemed to do well on his own.

A few minutes later, Chris suddenly sat up. Eyes wide open and looked around in surprise.

“Where the fuck… Uh… Sports club, yeah…” He seemed to answer to himself, before looking at me, sitting next to him in front of the pool. “Master! May I ask what happened? I seem to have forgotten about the last days, for some reason?”

My head was hurting. Fuck, not another overload, please not be an overload.

The sole thought of having overloads again… but it was probably just the effort I put in pushing Chris deeper into his subconscious, right?

This wasn’t the whole overloading my mind with mind links, just overusing one mind link… Ugh, this feels awful. I better get back home to rest.

But before I do that, I could totally finish explaining Chris what happened, and help him set back on track. That would probably not need any of my powers’ input at all.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s better if you just pretend they were some normal rest days you’ve been taking, understood?” I put some power in my words, reassuring myself that verbal mind control wouldn’t make me go into a comma again.

I was jumping from happiness in the inside, but had to take care of him first.

“Sure thing, master” He mumbled, with a nice grin. I sighed, relieved. I could finally stop worrying about Leo having accidentally erasing someone’s personality.

I know how to bring them back (Unless Chris was a special case and not everyone stores their erased ‘mind’ in their subconscious. In that case, we would have a problem if this incident repeated itself).

He helped me get up, then stared at the pool. “Phew, water looks amazing. But I remember you wanted to teach me what I needed to do around here first, master!”

I looked at the pool. The water did look amazing, and I was tempted to jump right in and tell him to do a few laps together, but he was right, we had work to do. I also noticed he was still naked and full hard. His swimmer body looked really nice, and his cock wasn’t that bad either…

Wait, Piney. That’s your horny mind speaking, work comes first!

I sighed, I’ll have fun with the enslaved man some other time. For now, I had to be a good manager.

…For now.

-----

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salted-cushions · 3 years

Text

All the reasons I gave you, the things I wanted and didn’t want - they were real, but they paled next to you. Like candles lit under the midday sun. And I, weak and stupid, watched the sun set on my life for the last time instead of snuffing even one of my candles out. Now they’ve all burned out, and so I’m sitting in the dark with nothing but my regrets to keep me company.

Long-ass emo post that takes a long time to get the the point, be warned.

I have taken up running in the past few weeks. I am not a strong runner, but my aerobic capacity is slowly improving and I’m starting to enjoy it... slightly.

I ran a community 5K this morning, and the emailed me my results about an hour later. I ran it in 33:15, which was much better than last time but still slow as fuck in the grand scheme of things - the fastest guy there posted a time of 17:30ish, which I know because he lapped me about 10 meters before the finish line.

So I was pretty confused when they told me I ran the fastest time in my age category. Like wtf? So I opened the results page and sorted it by age category - and it turns out that out of 182 runners, eight of them were between the ages of 20 and 29.

Where the fuck do I find people my age to make friends with? Most of the people in my course don’t speak english well enough to really get to know them, and besides they tend to form their own little cliques based on nationality - the chinese students have their own little groups, as do the indians and sri lankans. The singaporean and hong kong group is a bit more welcoming (and they tend to speak better english too), but like... I can get along with them well enough, but not well enough to be part of the in crowd, y’know? And it feels kinda weird to be the only white guy hanging out with an entirely asian crew. Plus their main social activities seem to be hot pot and boba tea, neither of which I’m that in to.

I’d really hoped that I’d be able to make some friends doing this running group thing, but I guess only the young and old do it. Ever since I’ve moved back to the suburbs I just never see anyone between highschool age and middle age. And the people who are kinda around my age are like... young families who’re starting out with homeownership and having kids, just at a different stage of life than I am. I guess all the young people are living near unis or towards the city.

A few years ago, I wanted friends who went out and got drunk, had house parties, did drugs and had lots of casual sex. And I had that, for a little while, working at a bar near the city - we’d pull 12 hour shifts, sit in the bar after close and drink our paychecks, hit the clubs and dance for hours, hook up with strangers, crash somewhere for a couple hours sleep and do it all again tomorrow. But it’s not as fulfilling as I thought it would be, I think I only wanted it because I thought I missed out in my teens and early 20s. (Hospitality bosses want their employees to do this, by the way - they’ve created this culture where you basically get abused by them and the customers all day, then spend all your money drinking at your workplace to get the bad feelings out, and then by the time the next shift rolls around you’re so tired and hungover all you want is to get through your shift and get drunk again. It’s disgusting, and I hope I never work at a bar again).

So what sort of friends do I want now? I don’t really know. I want to be able to talk about things that are on my mind, share my accomplishments and have them celebrated, get support when I need it and give it when they do. I want to host dinner parties and cocktail nights, and go to my friends’ dinner parties and cocktail nights. I want to go to nice restaurants and classy bars for celebrations, and maybe hit a club and dance until I can’t stand once or twice a year - but not on a school night, that’s not very smart.

I guess part of my problem is I want to do everything and be accepted everywhere (thanks, ADHD). Not that many people want to go and see the ballet or a musical, and also get high and talk about life, and also exercise every day and be fit and healthy, and also get shitfaced and dance until the sun comes up. People I meet seem to have space in their lives for work or school, family, a couple good friends, and exactly one ‘other’. My ‘other’ is a list a mile long, and everything has to be done at 110% otherwise I’m not interested in the slightest. I miss dancing - but there’s no point taking it up again until I can commit $5k/year and 15+ hours/week to competition training, plus probably another $5k/year on costuming, shoes and travel. I miss world of warcraft - but there’s no point playing unless I’m gonna do 10-15 hours of keystones on top of raiding three nights every week. I miss league of legends - but there’s no point playing unless I’m gonna play four hours a night to keep my skills sharp, oh and also that game makes me so fucking angry that I’ve broken more than one keyboard playing it. I miss martial arts - I kinda wanna do jujitsu, but it’s so expensive and you gotta buy all the gear straight away, and I know that if I get into it I’ll start wanting to train every day and spend all my time and money on it. Plus I don’t always get along with the kind of people who do it - the typical BJJ guy is either an older dude who realised he was getting fat and had a midlife crises, or a younger guy with a shaved head and intense eyes with dark circles whose bought into the culture with a cult-like intensity and has the vibe of being on the precipice of getting an SS tattoo. I miss magic the gathering, but collecting cards for a competitive decks is an incredibly expensive and time-consuming process with significant setbacks every couple months when a new set comes out, plus MTG people tend to be have this unique combination of zero social skills, zero personal hygiene, and intense arrogance that makes them eminently unlikeable.

I like lifting, but I don’t really like gym culture - if it’s powerlifting, it’s all bearded bikie sorta guys listening to heavy metal. If it’s weightlifting, it’s very insular and cliquey (although the scene in my city is very small, so that might be a poor judgement). If it’s ‘bodybuilding’ - not people who compete, but guys who want big pecs and arms, and girls who want a skinny waist and a fat ass - it’s all ‘yeah brah’ meathead vibes and shallow instagramming. Besides, I spent all this money on my home gym stuff, so I can’t really justify paying for a gym membership just for socialising.

I like running, or I’m liking it so far. I don’t know about the people, they seem a bit too... normal for me. Everyone’s chatting about their spouses and kids and dogs, except the little group of competitive runners who seem to be more interested in training than chatting (funny that). Maybe that’s how I find myself and make some friends - keep moving towards having a house and a spouse and kids and a dog. That’s scary though. Is that what I want?

This has been on my mind a lot recently, to be honest. In a year I’ll be finished with my degree (theoretically) and hopefully find a professional, salaried job. What then? Except for the year I decided I would drop out of school and have a career in hospitality (bad idea), that’s been the point where my idea of the future stops for quite a while now. I know I want to buy a house or an apartment at some point, and since I found out that my sister and I are inheriting an interstate property homeownership is actually starting to sound realistic. I know, in broad strokes, the field I want to work in. But... do I want to live in the city and live the urbanite single life? Do I want to have a family and live further out where there’s space and more greenery? If my research project goes well, maybe I could try and get hired on as a research assistant, or if I find something worthwhile I could put together a PhD proposal (lol good luck with my amazing 1.1 GPA). I could work for the local government, or the state government, or the federal government, or a design firm, or a construction firm, or a consulting firm... the options are so many and I don’t even know how to begin evaluating them.

Of course it’s all a bit of a pointless exercise right now, because I’ll honestly take whatever job I can get when I graduate. There’s a lot of jobs for civil grads, but with my awful grades, dodgy resume and just being older than the rest of my cohort, I won’t have the luxury of being choosy. Public, private, non-profit, research, city-based, rural or even interstate - I’ll be submitting as many applications as I can and taking whatever I can get. And that will cut down my options for stuff like where I like and what kind of lifestyle I want to lead, like I can’t be seeing musicals every weekend and frequenting trendy cocktail lounges if I’m living and working off in Traralgon or whatever, and I can’t be living on a ten-acre rural plot with some sheep and a couple of border collies if I need to drive into the city for work every day.

I’m not ready to turn 30. I’m getting my shit together, but it’s so fucking slow and frustrating. At the start of the year I tore up my life and started from scratch - like I have every few years since I turned 16 - but I think and hope that this will be the last time, now that I’m aware of my patterns, medicated, and trying to plan for my future. But making those plans means... I need to figure out who I am and who I want to be. I need to separate what’s a part of me from what’s manifestations of ADHD. I need to figure out what I genuinely like, and what I think I like because it’s novel, or stimulating, or because I saw people doing it and instinctively wanted to mirror them. I need to dig through the ideal version of myself, the person that I want to be, and figure out what pieces are good and what aren’t. A couple years ago, I had this idea that the ideal me would say ‘I’m gonna do what I want, and the people who don’t like that can piss off.’ Well, I woke up one day recently and realised that I had no friends because that attitude had systematically pushed everybody that I cared for out of my life, so that’s one idea that I’m working on getting rid of.

There is one part of that which is very difficult for me to approach, though... and that’s my ex. She told me that she thought I looked hot with a beard, and so that became part of my ideal version of myself. I normally wear stubble these days - but with the nice clean line shaved into my cheek, just like she liked. I tell myself this is the way I think it looks best. But maybe I only do it because my ideal me is built for her. Before I met her, I already wanted to be fit, healthy and strong - dance training, lifting, sometimes running (but never sticking to it). But fitness was a big part of her life, and while we were together I absorbed some of that from her. It would be stupid to drop it from my life altogether, but I can’t help but wonder how much of why and how I do these things is constructed around her.

I never met anyone who understood me like she did. I’ve never liked sharing hobbies with girlfriends - inevitably they don’t quite get it, just as I don’t quite get theirs. Like, girls who wanted to play video games with me didn’t understand my drive to improve and be competitive - how when I play a game I’m constantly striving, in every moment, to be that little bit quicker, more accurate, more efficient, to make the right calls, to pick the right strategies. To them, a game is just a game to play for fun - and there’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not how I enjoy video games and I’m going to be intensely frustrated for every single second of you clumsily trying to participate in something I’ve spent thousands of hours getting better at. I can’t even play Mario Party without becoming a ruthless monster, please let’s put on a movie or something before my head implodes.

She got it, though. Not with video games - she didn’t give two shits about them - but about fitness. She wasn’t like those people who come to the gym to half-heartedly do a set on every machine and then go home to eat ice cream, or the people who just do an hour of incline walking while watching tv and playing on their phones. She did research, and made intelligent plans, and took it seriously. She’d grit her teeth and push through the shittiest days, where lesser women (and men) would have cut their workout short and gone home. She badly needed to succeed, so badly that every little failure cut her to the quick. Healthy? Fuck no. But just like me. More than me, better than me. We understood each other. And let me tell you, you’ve never known love until you’ve watched your girlfriend grind her way out of a PR squat that by all rights she should have failed - and then seen the elation on her face once she’s racked the bar and realised what she just achieved.

Jesus, I’m close to tears now. I just wanted to bitch about not having any friends and I’ve once again segued into pining over her. God I’m so lonely. Why am I like this?

Reading over that last paragraph... it does sound like I have genuine feelings for her, and not just an obsessive need to recapture the one that got away. So that’s... good, I think. It doesn’t change anything really... it doesn’t uncover a new course of action to take, or instruct on how to manage my feelings better. But I don’t want to be that creepy, obsessive ex. I’ve felt like that a lot over the past couple years, but only internally... I’ve tried to leave her alone and done pretty well, I think. Like yeah, I think about her way too much and stalk her socials pretty regularly, but if she doesn’t see any of that then... it won’t make her uncomfortable. That’s the theory. And I’m getting better with the stalking... I just open her instagram and say to myself ‘see? still blocked and set to private. you didn’t miss anything.’ and then I can close it and go about my day. Not great, but... better than the alternatives for now.

This is where it all comes together. I want to text her, have another shot, lay everything out and say ‘I want now what you wanted from me two years ago.’ And I think that’s an actual desire, even a plan, not just me desperately trying to grab on to the last few shreds of dopamine I could get from her. But... I’m not ready, and it’s not the right time. I need to keep getting my shit together, so I can face her and be proud of myself. I don’t want to be embarrassed by living in an ancient, dirty and broken-down house - but I’m working on that. I don’t want to be embarrassed by my inability to stick to an exercise routine for more than a few months - but I’m working on that. I want be confident when I say I’ll finish my degree this year. I want to be confident when I say that next year I’ll have a job and be looking at buying a house. I want to be confident when I say that I’m quitting smoking - or, better yet, proudly say that it’s been so many weeks since my last cigarette.

I hurt her, in the past. And I regret it, and I’m ashamed - because as I’ve learned more about myself, the reasons are becoming clear. She wasn’t happy, and she would break up with me. I would say, ‘well of course I don’t want that, but you need to do what’s right for you.’ And then I would go cold for a couple of days until she inevitably came crawling back - until the last time, when she didn’t. I shouldn’t have let it go on. And why did I let it? Because I’m weak and selfish. Because I ignore issues that I don’t want to deal with, and happily go on with my life as if they don’t exist. Because I’m desperate for approval and validation, and couldn’t do the right thing by her because it would have meant losing a huge source of that. Because I think I can get away with anything, and I care more about whether there will be immediate consequences for me, rather than if something is right or wrong or affects someone else.

I took so much from her. Her friendship with our other roommate - destroyed, and at the time I said ‘that’s between the two of them,’ but I was the one who came into their lives like a hurricane. Her house - she was the one who had to move, even though she’d lived their long before me - I was the one who should have moved out, but I said to myself ‘she’s the one who’s leaving, that’s her prerogative.’ Her gym - I should have stopped going there when things were moving towards the end, but I didn’t. Then I told myself that we went at different times now and wouldn’t see each other, so it was fine - until one day when she came in, saw me, went to the bathroom and hid for at least an hour until I’d left. It shouldn’t have taken that much to make me change gyms - and for what! That gym was her community, for me it was just the most convenient place that usually had a free squat rack. And I took it from her. All of these things were so easy to justify - ‘I’m gonna do my thing and if anybody doesn’t like it - they don’t have to stay in my life.’ I was so fucking selfish, and I have so much regret. The only thing I could possibly do is apologise. And I hate apologies - words mean nothing without actions backing them up. There’s no action that I could possibly take that could give these things back to her, so all I could do is grovel at her feet and tell her that I’m sorry and that I’m trying to be a better person.

I’m scared. Even if I do get my shit together and sack up enough to text her, and even if she actually replies, and even if by some miracle she wants to try again - I’m scared that I’ll hurt her again. That I won’t have grown out of my selfish, irresponsible ways. I can SEE the patterns, but can I change them? I think so... but it’s not an overnight thing, and it’s not a neat and direct path from A to B. It’s a messy, unclear, painful and difficult thing that I have to do if I want to be a better person, if I want be capable of having a stable and loving relationship in the future. I can easily see a future where, if all the pieces fall into place and we start dating again, I just use her up and toss her away again - just like every woman I’ve ever dated. Then I’m back exactly where I am today - lying in bed emptying my feelings into the internet - and she’s twice scarred from having me in her life. And then I hurt the next woman, and the next, until I eventually die bitter and lonely, looking back on the trail of pain and heartbreak I’ve left in my wake.

I’m scared of the other options, too. I’m scared that she rejects me and it doesn’t help me get over her. What do I do then? This would be a real hail mary, there’s no third chance - hell, the second is already a stretch. I just cannot go on for the rest of my life feeling like this - it’s been two years! The first three months or so were by far the worst, but after that it’s like... this became my new baseline. A bit of ebb and flow, but never gone. Maybe it’s worse than usual right now because I walked past her last week... and maybe it’s worse than usual because I’m trying to dig these things out from the depths of my brain in the hopes that the light and air will cleanse them. Maybe by going through this phase of rawness and regret, I’ll be better equipped to move on and this will all die down. Although I’m pretty sure I would have to genuinely accept that I can’t have her, and... I don’t know how. Maybe an emphatic and absolute rejection would do that for me. I’d probably have to throw away some of the stuff she gave me. I don’t know. I’m not equipped to approach that idea right now.

And then... what if she says we can try being friends? How do I navigate that? I’m not capable of doing something halfway, I’d spend every waking minute looking for an angle. It’d be an opportunity, not a friendship. That’s... manipulative. I don’t want to do that. And I don’t want to lie to myself and pretend I could do that. I don’t think it would happen, anyway - I don’t see that coming from her. Although I have seen her being friendly with an ex of hers, so... maybe I’m wrong.

And what if she says yes... but then I find out that I was in love with the idea of her that I’ve constructed over the past two years, and the person she is now doesn’t resemble that at all? What if I was just caught up with new relationship energy and a novel person, and really the connection and rapport wasn’t as deep as I remember it being? What if I do everything right this time, and still end up unhappy? I know that dating is always a risk, but... I don’t want to be dumping her six months down the track because she didn’t live up to this ridiculous, unrealistic fantasy version of her. And I don’t want to end up a bitter old man in a loveless marriage, any more than I want to end up a bitter old bachelor with a collection of broken hearts. I think about it and I’m pretty sure that the connection we had was real, and the reasons I want her are real and accurate - but ever since I started wrapping my head around this ADHD thing, I’ve stopped trusting my perceptions of things so much. If I want something, my brain will tell me pretty much whatever I need to hear so that I can rationalise my doubts away.

And that’s part of this whole thing - all this work that I’m trying to do on myself, how much of it is for her? I say it’s for myself, but I wouldn’t put it past me to be rationalising it that way, when it’s really all part of a larger scheme to win her back. Like, I clean my kitchen benches with spray and a cloth every single day now, sometimes two or three times if I’m cooking a lot. I think that’s because I want my house to be cleaned to that standard - but she had extremely high standards of cleanliness, so maybe I’m just trying to make myself the person who can tick that box for her. And I can say, well, if that’s the case that’s ok - the motivations don’t matter as long as you’re improving yourself. But if that’s the case... what happens after I text her? If we get back together, and my brain goes ‘cool goal achieved, we can shut this all down now’ and all the good traits I’ve painstakingly developed collapse back into nothingness. Or if she says no and I actually accept that, then my brain might go ‘ok this is pointless now, let’s get rid of it’ and the exact same thing happens? I want to be a whole, complete person on my own - and a good, responsible, reliable person who does stuff like keep a beautifully clean house - and so the idea that all of that might be built around this hope of having her back in my life is... uncomfortable, at least. As is the idea that I’m constructing a persona who’s only purpose is to win back an ex-girlfriend, as if life is some stupid romcom.

This has gone way off track, so... I’ll leave it there. R, if you’re reading this... I’m so, so very sorry about so many things. I hope you’re not reading it, because I’m not ready - for the apology itself, or the conversation that might follow. But I also hope you are reading it, because that would put the ball in your court and absolve me from the need for action - and I’m still too weak to do the difficult things in life.

When I told you I would come with you, I should have followed through. And I had reasons for not doing that - like I told you in my letter - but looking back I don’t think I was being honest with myself or with you. I was just too weak to do the difficult thing, and so I told myself half-truths until they sounded true enough to tell to you. All the reasons I gave you, the things I wanted and didn’t want - they were real, but they paled next to you. Like candles lit under the midday sun. And I, weak and stupid, watched the sun set on my life for the last time instead of snuffing even one of my candles out. Now they’ve all burned out, and so I’m sitting in the dark with nothing but my regrets to keep me company.

That’s it from me, everybody. Thanks for reading my blog.

#adhd #long #long post #poetry #...sorta #relationships #adhd relationships #emo #regret #loneliness #a bloo bloo bloo #prose #i miss you #i’m sorry #blog post

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nazariolahela · 4 years

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Something Domestic: Chapter 15

A/N: Hey y'all! This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

Hope everyone had a safe and happy holiday season. It was a busy one for me. Hence why this chapter is a few weeks late. Anywho, here’s Part 2 of Liam’s POV. We’ll get back to Riley’s POV next chapter.

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney @superharrietsuper @custaroonie @lady-calypso @ritachacha @olympianpantsuit @desiree-0816 @the-soot-sprite @kate-mckenzie @narrytheworld @octobereighth @lynne1993 @queen-anastasia-universe @loveellamae @sarzkh31

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Liam helps to mend the rift between Hana and Riley.

The first thing on my agenda is to get to Mara. I know she’s been compromised by my ex-wife, so getting her to confess will be tricky. Leo and I go over how he’ll get Madeleine to spill as we ride through Manhattan in my McLaren P1. Bastien, my most loyal employee, tipped me off to where Mara and the new nanny will be with Philip today, so I took a long lunch to try and get some answers from her.

“So, where is Madeleine’s faithful lackey today?” he asks.

“Bastien said she and Belinda took Philip to the playground.”

My brother nods and taps a message on his phone. “I got ahold of your ex this morning. She wants to have dinner tonight. She’s leaving the kids with Rashad so she can meet me.” He chuckles. “Poor sucker. At least she’s not your problem anymore.”

“Except she’s my children’s mother, so she’ll always be my problem.”

“What are you going to do about her if I get her to confess?”

I shrug my shoulders. I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Right now, I just want the goddamn truth so I can get my girl back. Yes, I called Riley my girl. Even though she won’t speak to me and she’s got another man, I’m not giving up.

We pull up to the park and exit the car. The weather is cooler this time of year, so I fasten the buttons of my dress coat and make my way toward the playground. Leo and I scan the area for any sign of Mara and after a few moments, he spots her standing near the slide. Belinda is sitting on the bench, rifling through her tote bag.

When I approach, Philip is the first to see me. “DADDY!” he shouts and leaps off the monkey bars, sprinting across the playground. He latches himself onto my leg. I pick up my son and toss him in the air before planting a kiss on his cheek. I look into his blue eyes and my heart bursts. To be honest, I had doubts that he was my son after I found out Madeleine cheated during our marriage. But one look at him dispelled them. I had a paternity test done to be absolutely sure, but sometimes I think about what I would have done if he wasn’t mine.

Mara sees me and her eyes bug out of her skull. She turns to Belinda and alerts her of my presence. “Sir?” she says as they approach me.

“Belinda, take Philip over to the swingset. I need to speak with Mara privately.”

The nanny nods and ushers my son away from us. I motion for Mara to take a seat on a nearby bench.

“Everything alright, sir?” she says.

“I’m just dropping in to see how things are going with the new nanny. I know there were some issues with the last one, so I want to make sure we don’t have any similar problems going forward.”

She bobs her head. “Things seem to be going well, sir. From what I’ve seen, Ms. Stewart is having no trouble carrying out her duties.”

“That’s good to hear. Any issues with the paparazzi?”

“Nothing we can’t handle, sir. Sometimes they camp out wherever we go, but they’ve left us alone for the most part.”

I nod. “That’s good. The safety of my children is very important, Mara. I want to make sure the people in charge of them are not putting them in harm’s way.”

“I agree, sir. I take my job seriously.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Because I would have a huge issue if I knew those people were deliberately putting my kids at risk.”

She visibly swallows. “Uh...sir. I-I don’t know what you mean.”

I look over at Philip as I speak and clench my fists. “Mara. I know the tabloids called you. Do you know how I know? My friend Olivia. I assume you’ve met her. Well, she knows someone at Trend. Her contact told us everything. They gave us your name. How much did they give you, Mara?”

Her eyes go wide and she fidgets with the hem of her jacket. “Sir. Please. I don’t kn…”

I hold my hand up, stopping her. “Mara. There’s no use denying it. I know my ex-wife is behind this, but I want to know how you are and you’re going to tell me.”

She bows her head and exhales. “I swear to you, sir. I didn’t know what Ms. Karlington was going to do. She told me to gather dirt on Miss Brooks. She said it was for the benefit of the kids. I didn’t know she was planning to sell the story to the tabloids. She had me plant a listening device in Miss Brooks’ phone when she wasn’t looking. That’s how I knew about you two. That you were involved.”

I cock my eyebrow. “How long did you know?”

“Not very long, sir. Ms. Karlington suspected something after the scholarship benefit. That’s when she had me bug Miss Brooks’s phone. We were able to take the recordings and sell them to the tabloids along with the details of your divorce. I’m so sorry, sir. She threatened to have me fired if I didn’t cooperate.”

Of course, she did. “Why though?”

“She said it was because of the divorce. If you would have just agreed to her arrangement, none of this would have happened.”

I drag my hand down my face. Why am I gasping? I already knew that. The so-called “arrangement” Mara is referring to is one Madeleine brought up after I filed. She suggested that we stay married for our “public image,” but that we could both have people on the side. I laughed in her face. “So, how much did they pay you?”

Mara pauses, unable to meet my eyes. “$50,000, sir.”

That’s it? That’s less than what we pay her yearly salary. I shake my head and rise from my seat. Mara stands and addresses me. “Sir? I’m genuinely sorry for any pain I may have caused you and Miss Brooks. I understand if you can no longer retain my services.” She starts to walk away when I call out to her.

“We’ll figure that out later. In the meantime, I trust you won’t tell my ex-wife about our little chat?”

“No, sir,” she says, shaking her head. She makes her way back to Philip and Belinda. I run my fingers through my hair and head back to the car, where my brother leans against the hood.

“Well? How did it go? Did she sing like a canary?”

I smirk and press the unlock button on my keyfob. “She did.”

He grins and brings his hand to his mouth, kissing his fingers. “Delicious. Now, we just need Madeleine to give us an encore.”

***

Later that afternoon, I’m back at the office, finishing up some quarterly reports when my cellphone chimes. I pull it from my suit jacket to see a text from Leo.

Perfect. Now for part two of my “master plan.” I close my laptop down and grab my coat off the back of my chair. I exit my office and head down the hall towards the elevator. As I step in and descend towards the lobby, I call up Drake.

“Hey, man. You on your way over?”

“Yep. Just leaving the office. Is she there?”

“She showed up a few minutes ago. You sure this will work?”

I sigh. “I hope so...”

He chuckles. “If not, I guess it’s back to escorts and porn for you.”

That’s my best friend for you. Always busting my balls. In all the years we’ve been friends, he’s never been one to let me sit around and feel sorry for myself. But he’ll always have my back when I need him. “Fuck you, man. I’ll see you in about half an hour.”

He laughs and I hang up the phone. I get into my car and head to my destination. When I pull up outside the building, my nerves start to get the best of me. Snap out of it, Li. You can do this. I inhale deeply and exit the car and make my way inside. I stride down the hallway and stop in front of the door. I take another deep breath and knock twice. A few moments later, it swings open.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Meghan. Is Hana home?”

She eyes me incredulously. “Yeah. I’ll get her. Just a second.” She steps back and allows me to enter the apartment. I look around as Meghan retreats down the hallway. Pictures of her and Hana line the walls of the living room. I smile to myself. My eyes catch a photo of her and Riley in graduation caps and gowns. This one must have been from their college graduation.

“Liam? What are you doing here?” Hana asks as she enters the room. She’s surprised to see me, but it passes quickly and the shock is replaced with a smile. She walks up and I wrap her up in a hug.

“Hey. Nice place you got here.”

We separate and she gestures me to sit down. “What’s going on? Is everything okay? No offense, but you’re the last person I expected to show up here.”

I nod. “Yeah, everything is fine. I was hoping I could get your help.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Uh...sure. What for?”

I rub the back of my neck. “I heard what happened between you and Riley and I’m sorry that I had a hand in it.”

“It’s not your fault. Riley’s actions were her own. No matter what happened between you and her, it had nothing to do with me.”

“I understand that, but I feel partly responsible. I just want you to know that.”

She nods. “Don’t be. Now, what can I help you with?”

“I need you to help me get Riley back.”

I hear Meghan guffaw from the kitchen. An understandable reaction. Hana looks towards her and frowns, then looks back to me. “You know she and I haven’t spoken in almost a month, right?”

“I do, but I’m hoping to help you out too. I know you guys were super close and this distance has been hard on both of you. Even if I can’t win her back, I want to help you mend your friendship.”

Hana folds her hands in her lap and stares at the floor. We sit in silence for several minutes; I don’t say anything and allow her to gather her thoughts. She finally clears her throat and looks at me. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Ten minutes later, Hana, Meghan and I are in my car on our way to the Double Tappe. Hana sits in the front seat, tapping on her phone. Meghan speaks up from the backseat. “Are you sure you want to do this, Hana? She owes you an apology. You don’t owe her anything,” she states, placing a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Hana covers Meghan’s hand with her own and turns to me. “She’s my best friend. I’ve been kind of stubborn as well through all of this. She’s called me several times over the last month to apologize. I haven’t answered her calls, but the truth is, I miss her. It’s been hard not speaking to her every day. If she’s willing to make up, I am too.”

I smile back at her. Hana is too pure for this world and Riley is lucky to have a friend like her. We pull up outside the Double Tappe and I see Maxwell standing outside, talking on the phone. He looks up and notices us, and a smile spreads across his face. He holds his finger up then wraps up his call.

“Hey, ladies! What brings you here on this fine evening?” he says, wrapping Hana up in a bone-crushing hug. She giggles and tries to wiggle free from his grip. After swinging her around like a ragdoll, he sets her down and grabs Meghan. She squeals as he picks her up, then releases her. I wrap my arm around Hana’s shoulder and the four of us make our way into the Double Tappe.

Drake is the first to see us. He looks up from mixing a drink and waves in our direction. His actions cause the girl at the bar to turn around. There she is. My breath catches in my throat. She looks at me, then at Hana, and her beautiful blue eyes go wide. I watch her as she takes in her best friend. She and Hana stare at each other for several seconds. Meghan gives Hana’s hand a gentle squeeze in encouragement. I can only imagine how they’re both feeling right now. Hana takes a deep breath and makes her way over to Riley. The two talk for a few moments, before making their way to the back of the bar.

I notice the tool I saw in her apartment last week sitting at the bar and my blood boils. Welp, time to audible this plan. I make my way to where he’s sitting at the bar and shake Drake’s hand.

“What can I get you?” he asks me, looking at the tool out of the corner of his eye.

“Give me the Macallan Lalique Single Malt.”

The tool turns to me, eyes bulging out of his skull. “You serve that here?”

Drake smirks. “Only for special occasions.”

The tool looks at Drake, then back at me. “That stuff is like $520 a shot”

“$525,” I reply, reaching in my wallet and tossing a handful of $100 bills on the bar. Drake takes the money and deposits it into the cash register, then hands me my change. I stuff several bills into the tip jar. The tool looks down at his drink, then looks up at me. His shocked expression amuses me.

“Dare I ask how you can afford that?”

I chuckle as I raise the glass to my lips and take a sip. Drake cocks an eyebrow at him. “You have no idea who he is, do you?”

The tool looks over at me, trying to figure out if he knows me. “You look really familiar. Like, I’ve seen you before, but I can’t place it.”

I reach into my suit jacket and retrieve one of my business cards, tossing it on the bar. He picks it up, studying the print. After a few seconds, his eyes widen and he looks back up at me.

“Wait, you’re Liam Rhys? Holy shit, man! You’re the king of this city! I’m Josh. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand. I give it a quick shake and force a tight smile, but I cringe internally. Why am I playing nice with Riley’s new piece? He’s just going to be disappointed when I steal his girl back. He starts telling me about his job. I think he says something about being a financial intern for one of my competitors. Note to self: buy them out and fire his ass. I pretend to have an interest in what he says. Drake gives me a confused look from behind the bar, wondering where I’m going with this.

After several excruciating minutes of listening to Josh drone on about gods knows what, I pat him on the shoulder and excuse myself. I notice Hana sitting in one of the booths, with Meghan hovering over the table. I make my way over to them.

“Where’s Riley?”

Meghan nods her head towards the bathrooms. Perfect. I wink at her and make my way down the dimly lit hall. I stand outside the women’s room and wait for her to come out. After what feels like hours, the door swings open.

“Liam? What the hell?”

I stalk towards her and pin her against the back wall placing both hands on either side of her and caging her in. “You’re still with him?”

She glares at me. “Since last week, yeah. What business is it of yours?”

I lean in and inhale her scent. The mix of rose and jasmine makes me want to devour her right here. I run my nose along the base of her neck and she shudders. “You are my business, Riley. Have you slept with him yet?”

She shakes her head. “We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks.”

Oh, thank gods. “Then why was he shirtless in your apartment?”

She scoffs. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Have you thought about what I said?”

She looks up at me. “Did you figure out who framed me?”

“I did. Come home with me.”

“Liam…” she whispers as I plant soft kisses along her collarbone. She moans softly and grips the lapels of my jacket. My dick instantly hardens. Part of me is hoping the tool ...I’m sorry… Josh comes looking for her and finds us. I drag my lips up her throat and pull her bottom lip between my teeth. She inhales sharply, then pushes me away. “Tell me. Who was it?”

What were we talking about? Oh, yeah. The tabloid leak. “Who do you think it was?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anyone who would hate me enough to do that.”

“It was Madeleine. She found out about us so she had Mara sell it to the gossip mags.” I fill her in on everything Mara told me and Leo and my plans to get Madeleine to confess. Riley’s eyes glimmer with tears.

“W-Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s a hateful bitch. Why else would she try to make me miserable? This was never about you, babe. You were just collateral damage.”

She sniffles and wipes a lone tear away. “I don’t understand. Does she want you back?”

I laugh humorlessly. “No. She just wants the façade of the perfect marriage. She wants to have her cake and eat it too.”

Riley nods. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Well, as soon as I get everything I need from Leo, I’m taking her ass back to court and fighting for primary custody. I’m not letting her hurt my kids ever again. Or you.” I lean in and kiss her forehead.

She sighs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, for starters, you could say, ‘I’m leaving Dickbag out there for you.’ Then, you could say, ‘Fuck me in the coat closet right now, Liam.’”

She giggles and slaps my chest. “I can’t do that to him. He deserves better.”

I capture her wrist and place a kiss on her palm. “Well, it’s going to be hard to continue dating him when you’re mine.”

She leans in and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. “Let me talk to him first. I owe him that much.”

I sigh and brush a lock of hair from her face. “Fine. But don’t take too long.” I leave her with one last kiss on the lips and stroll down the hallway back towards the bar. Josh is still there, talking Max and Drake’s ears off about something. I pass Hana’s table, where she and Meghan are snuggled inside the booth. “You guys need a ride home?”

Hana looks around then back to me. “No. I think we’re going to hang out for a little while.” Her eyes dart to the left and she rises from the booth, engulfing Riley in a hug. She looks back at me. “Thank you for everything, Liam.”

I give her a warm smile and wave goodbye to Drake and Maxwell as I make my way outside. I check my phone for an update from Leo. Nothing yet, but at least we’re heading in the right direction.

#something domestic #nanny au #trr au #liam rhys #riley brooks #choices fanfic #nazariolahela fanfic

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