#HEY BAILEY IS SO FUNNY ITS ILLEGAL

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt2

A/N - here’s part two to my little prequels - it’s the last one I’ve got written, but just know that they definitely fall in love later in my head. It’s just that the ‘in love’ part turned into Friendliness so there’s that. Thanks for sticking around bc y’all make my days

Summary - A certain professor makes another unexpected appearance and friend? 

W/C - 2.6k 

Warnings - there’s a brief stint of depression and a bit of swearing i’m sure (but what’s new)

----

Nearly 50 hours of no sleep later and Spencer Reid is sure he’s hallucinating. He knows that the hallucinations come later, that it takes more like seven or eight days to get that bad. But he’s tired and hadn’t slept on the plane and there’s no amount of coffee that’ll convince him he’s awake enough to think the scene in front of him is real. 

Because there you are, arguing with an FBI agent. While in handcuffs. He notes the darker hair and the new style and the impossible amount of dirt you’re covered in. What a weird thing to hallucinate after a bone chilling case. He hasn’t seen you in three years—by all accounts, he should’ve forgotten your face already. 

“I heard she got caught shipping body parts,” Emily says, appearing next to Spencer. She’s more put together, having passed out for the four hour flight. Her hair’s tied up and she’s got airplane coffee in her hands. He wonders if this is any more real before he hears you shouting from him. 

“Thank God,” you call, trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold, “Dr. Reid! Tell them I’m not crazy.”

He hesitantly leans over to Emily. “This is real, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I?”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Emily.”

“See you then, Reid.”

And he’s trudging forward, waving at the other agent while stifling a yawn. He forces his eyes open and checks his watch. 2:37 AM. Is he going to catch the Metro? Or is he sleeping on Hotch’s couch again? 

The pleading in your eyes says Hotch’s couch and he doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Kazinsky,” he yawns, stopping a full two feet from you and your inhumanly large captor. “What’s the—what’s the charge?”

Kazinsky shakes his head, not daring to let you any slack. You’re bouncing on your toes, trying to contain yourself. He gets it. It’s not everyday you get arrested. He hopes. But ever forgetful of the whole being arrested bit, you keep jerking to move the hair out of your face. Kazinsky takes it as trying to escape and jerks back harder. 

“We picked this one up for transporting illegal…stuff, Doc,” Kazinsky mutters with half a shiver. “Thought I signed up for white collar, mail fraud type stuff. Not unpacking human remains type stuff.” 

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. Scrubs his hands over his face. Takes one more long look at you, obviously losing your mind. He knows a lot can change over three years, but you never seemed the ‘illegally transporting dead people’ type. Until he remembers your fun fact from that lecture all those years ago. 

“What happened?” he sighs.

All too tired for this bullshit, he wishes he could force the story out faster, but your face just keeps contorting with the story you’re so obviously trying to spin for both of them. You try to pull out of Kazinsky’s gorilla grip again, and Spencer notices the way Kazinsky winces every time you pull. Something wrong with his wrist?

“Dr. Reid,” you finally begin, “I was in Guatemala, studying these mummies we found in a cave. One of the bodies just needed further examining and so I was just shipping it back because it’s not like I can stuff a two thousand year old body in my carryon.”

All Spencer can do is raise half an exhausted eyebrow that prompts you further, red tinting your cheeks. 

“Look, I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Man Hands over here that I’ve got the paperwork in my bag, but after our little disagreement, I’ve been arrested.”

“Disagreement?” Kazinsky snorts. “You tried to dislocate my wrist!”

“Well, I can’t help it if you don’t announce yourself before grabbing me.”

Whatever desperation and pleading you’ve had, you’ve thrown out the window to stare down Kazinsky. Spencer has a new appreciation for the fact that he’d been wrong all those years ago. You aren’t fragile. You’re as strong as a femur bone with all of the—probably justified—anger of a bull towards a matador. 

But you turn back to Spencer and your gaze softens. Melts into the young professor he met all those years ago. He’s gotten over his crush—he’s definitely in love with Maeve—but you’re objectively beautiful. Despite the self-cut, terribly choppy bangs, or the light dusting of brown dirt that you’ve covered in. You’re pleading for his help, he knows it, but he just wants to go home. 

He’s reminded he’s better than walking away and ends up giving Kazinsky a tired sigh. “I’ll take her off your hands for you, Kazinsky.”

He wonders vaguely what Maeve will think of this when he calls her in 24 hours. He wonders if she’ll appreciate the gesture he’s made for an old acquaintance. No matter what though, he knows she’ll gasp and giggle and say something like ‘oh those anthropologists! Such a funny sort. At least it’s a better science than geology!’ and they’ll laugh together like old lovers. 

Kazinsky drops you in Spencer’s lap and runs. Human remains could be the BAU’s problem for all he cared. He liked mail fraud. 

Once Kazinsky’s out of sight, Spencer pulls the handcuff keys from his pockets and pulls the cuffs off of you. You breathe out a thankful sigh, trying to rub the future bruises away. You turn back to face him, tucking your hair back behind your ear, studying him through your lashes. He can’t be bothered to notice anything much more about you. He’s dead on his feet. 

The hand you place on his elbow jolts him away. Your eyebrows scrunch and he swallows at the concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m just—we’ve been working an abduction case. 48 hours non-stop—“

He yawns again and you can’t help but mirror. “Did you know that chimpanzees and dogs are also empathetic yawners?” 

He smirks. “I did know that. Seriously though y/n, what’s up with the body?”

“I promise it isn’t illegal,” you rush out, just to receive a raised eyebrow. “The Institute I’m working for made some kind of deal with the Guatemalan government that I’m not really privy to, but I’m the only one qualified to handle the remains. Plus, I’ve got a reputation for being found with body parts so its—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He sighs again. He wants to tell you it sounds worse. That it sounds like you’re stealing on behalf of the Institute. That they’re doing what museums always do—pilfer and loot. But you sigh and hang your head and don’t exhibit one sign that you’re trying to trick him. Sure, you might’ve lied a bit about manhandling Kazinsky, but you sure as hell seem like a doctor just trying to do her job. 

“Look, call my boss. He’s waiting for me anyway. I’m sure the paperwork just got lost or customs is just as stupid as I think they are.”

Spencer nods. He pulls his phone out and punches in the number you rattle off. In ten seconds he’s speaking with Dr. Russel Bailey, head of the anthropology department at the Institute. There’s a quick relay of ‘yes, she’s authorised to have the body’ and ‘no, please don’t arrest her’ and ‘we’ll sort this out in the morning’. 

And once he’s hung up, you’ve already got your car keys out. “Do you need a ride home or anything?” you ask and quickly tack on, “I’m just trying to say thank you. Promise I’m not creepy.”

Spencer laughs and nods and drags his feet after you. He does need a ride home because he knows he’ll fall asleep on the metro. You talk incessantly about your trip to Guatemala on the walk down to your car, and he knows he should be listening. But he can’t. He’s too busy moving one foot in front of the other. 

And by the time you’ve punched his address into the GPS, he’s fast asleep, softly snoring. 

#

Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. 

Nothing else really matters now, Spencer thinks on repeat. She was the only good thing I had and now she’s gone. Maybe I don’t even matter. 

There’s brief moments between this line of thinking where he can listen to the three dozen voicemails he gets left everyday. Telling him that they’re there for him. Telling him it’ll be okay. Telling him it was okay to grieve. 

Was it grieving if he just wants to melt into nothingness? To die without actually killing himself?

It’s during one of these brief moments that he gets the voicemail he’s accidentally been craving. He doesn’t want to want it. He doesn’t want to want anything. He wants to melt and starve and wither until no one thinks about him ever again. Because she’s not here and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he wants you. 

You’ve been gone. Researching your way through the Sacred Valley in Peru, making nice with the locals and scavenging bones like an angelic vulture. You’ve been there for the last month and can’t possibly know about Maeve’s death—it takes him another hour to get back to thinking about you. It’s still September, he thinks, and you’re supposed to come back around now. At the end of the month, he’s supposed to pick you up from the airport. 

Because after saving you from an arrest, you’ve been exchanging noncommittal letters and phone calls. He’s got a thin stack of photos that you’ve sent from your trip. But you aren’t Maeve. You never were. You never will be. 

He doesn’t know why he wants you to call him, but he does. 

Maybe it’s because you’re new, you aren’t tarnished by the history of Spencer Reid. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat him like he’s labelled: fragile, handle with care!

He listens and your voicemail is a sort of sing song. “Hola Spencer! I’m calling from some Peruvian payphone. I should be in the states in a little over 24 hours. I’ll call when I land. Hasta mañana.” 

 The next voicemail comes with: “Finally got back to the apartment. I didn’t think I’d miss the sound of guinea pigs running around. Weird. Anyway, call me when you can.”

And the third: “Spencer, seriously, why aren’t you picking up? I’m not going to have to break in, am I? Call me back.”

Culminating with: “Reid, I swear to fucking god. If I find you dead in that goddamn apartment, I’ll beat your body so bad you won’t make it the fucking afterlife.”

There’s a knock. One he won’t answer. One he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want the pity or the advice or the dejectedness. He wants to float down a river and drown. 

The knock becomes a little more insistent. And now there’s voices attached. He can make out JJ’s voice, “He’s—he’s going to be okay. He’ll come back out when he’s ready.” Following is who he thinks is Penelope, though if it is, she’s far too quiet. One set of feet retreat. He can see the shadow from a pair of shoes and he wonders why Penelope is staying so long. Maybe she’s brought another basket. 

There’s one more knock—probably to ensure he’s not coming to the door—before a jiggle to the knob. And swearing. And jostling. And squirming. And pop. There’s a distinct swinging open of the door and a pair of boots tapping over his hardwood. 

Maybe this is how he dies. Miserable. Covered in snot and tears. Slippers half on. Depressed on the couch. 

“God, you idiot,” a voice breathes, pausing to take in the disarray. He vaguely remembers redecorating—throwing everything everywhere. The feet become more impatient and frantic and heavier. His doors all open and close and he can’t bother to correct the burglar. He’s right here, waiting, patiently waiting, for this intruder to kill him. 

A fantastic way to die. He wonders if you’ll want to look at his bones. You’ve mentioned wanting to. 

“Sound off, Reid,” you command. He knows its you. No one else could replicate that tremble in your lips, the break rolling off your tongue. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and he wonders how long ago was the last time he spoke. 

Light streams in as you flick open the curtains, bites into his skin with a hiss. You take in his disheveled state with no apprehension. Like you’ve expected this. Like you have no pity to give him. Maybe this is why he wanted you to call. 

“You broke in,” he mumbles and you shake your head. 

“I wouldn’t have to,” you begin to yell, just to lower your voice and grit your teeth, “if you would’ve fucking answered the door.” 

You always say there’s a time and place for everything. There’s nothing to top the word ‘fuck’ and he knows that you’re beyond angry. Beyond concerned. Beyond terrified for him. 

“What happened, Spencer?” you whisper, moving to sit down on the floor in front of him. You’re close enough he can smell your perfume, see the pleading look in your eyes. There’s no pity. If he could find the words, he couldn’t thank you enough. 

He could reach out and hold your hand, but that seems too far. Too much. So he swallows down the tears and whispers back, “Maeve died, y/n. She died because I let her.”

“Stop it,” you order. You’ve got a hard set in your eyes, the kind that he last saw when you stared down Kazinsky. “Stop that right now. You can’t stop the world from spinning, Spencer. You can’t stop the sun from coming up. You can’t stop what you don’t know to. I might not know all the details, but I know you. You’re a diligent man and I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than everything for the woman you love.”

You place a delicate hand on the couch next to his and you sum everything up very gracefully. “Hindsight is a bitch, don’t let it make you hers.”

He can’t stop the twitch of a smile. Can’t stop the crack of happiness that bleeds out because you’ve decided to be so ridiculously you. No one’s ever called him diligent before and seems more fitting than fragile.

“She’s still dead,” he settles on and makes the bold move to slide his fingers under yours. It feels like such a betrayal to Maeve—is he supposed to touch another woman when he couldn’t even touch the love of his life?

You just squeeze his fingers, warm and present and decidedly alive. “Yeah. She is. You’re welcome to wallow for as long as you want, but you need to eat. We’ll see if I can remember how to cook with modern appliances.”

Your smile is contagious enough that a fleeting smile reaches his eyes. You pat his hand and stand. “I’m going to the store, and taking a key this time. I promise I’ll be back. I’m stickier than a public indecency charge.”

You chuckle for the both of them and carefully make your way out of the apartment. He listens as you take a key and tries his best to psych himself into a fit of hunger. It isn’t until you’re singing in Spanish, something sizzling on the stove, that he realises that the pain in his gut is the hunger, and not just misery. That he should probably get up for at least a minute. Just to satisfy the curiosity of what that smell is. 

Maeve would’ve liked you, he decides. Maeve would’ve really liked you. 

And it’s the first peaceful thought he’s had in weeks. 

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #reid x reader #reid x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Remember Me ~ Worick Arcangelo x Reader

Disclaimer: This is going to have mentions of past abuse and supposedly illegal behaviour, but considering it’s Gangsta we’re talking about, I don’t think anyone should be surprised by darker themes addresses.

Birthdays...Have always been tedious. A drag. More work than they are worth...So, I wonder...Why do I actually bother doing a party at my home?

I mean, it’s true, I get it, I’m 21, I’m of age...Legally an adult, legally allowed to drink, legally everything whatever...The same as it has been for the past 3 years...

And MAYBE it’s fun to sometimes gather around with your friends and do the same things everyone always does at parties, loud music, alcohol, cigarettes and gossips...

But there is always that annoying anxiety feeling surging through my veins whenever I have to be around more than 3 of my friends, considering this is a party organised by me, and everything has to be done perfectly, everyone must feel good, and at home, not to be left out...

I can already envision myself being the only outcast, anyway, but that’s besides the point.

It’s already evening, the alcohol is sitting on the table, the pizza boxes are stacked up in a mountain on the floor, plastic cups everywhere, ash trays placed strategically, dim lights, coloured light projectors to make the room look like a disco...

And then there’s me. Sitting anxiously on the couch in the living room, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a long plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, along with some silver rings and a necklace. Casual, comfy, yet pretty elegant in its simplicity.

My friends arrived soon, very loudly congratulating me on aging one more year, fantastic...But they had a mischievous smirk on their faces...

And they brought in a tall, blond man who looked very macho, and I could only blink in confusion as everyone walked inside.

“Uhm...Who is he? One of yours boyfriend or something?” I asked, eyeing everyone attentively. “Nooo, silly! He’s our gift for you!” my best friend grabbed the man by his arm, shoving him towards me. “I’m...Not sure I follow.” I spoke with even more unease, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. “He’s Ergastulum’s most wanted Gigolo! And tonight, he’s all yours to do with as you please! C’mon, you deserve to let loose and have fun once in a while, y’know? Forget about all those jerks and enjoy pleasure like you’ve never felt before~!” my other best friend grabbed me by my shoulders from behind, putting her chin on top of one of her hands, slurring seductively. “...I see.” I muttered, looking away, trying to mask my displeasure at what I was hearing. “Anyway, let’s get you drunk! You won’t get to enjoy anything if you’re so cold and reserved with everyone, y’know? Maybe that’s why you’re always alone! Now c’mon, let’s have fun!” she dragged me to the drinks table, and we started playing drinking games like never have I ever...

Gotta say, Vodka and Bailey’s has always been a shot combination that I adore, and I’m grateful that it takes a long time to get me drunk, because these girls are wasted, while I’m not, so I can escape their grasp. Drunk dancing isn’t that fun, even to watch, and they were making fools of themselves, screeching, giggling...More or less sounding like pained donkeys.

Or maybe I’m just too judgemental and mean because I’ve been in a bad mood and spiraling since they got in my home. To be fair, I don’t even care what is the truth. These are my feelings and I’m not going to play them off as insignificant or non-existent.

Eyeing them carefully, I take a pack of cigarettes and make my way out of the house and sit on the stairs, taking a deep breath of the cold winter night air, I light up a cigarette, taking a drag and staring up at the sky, letting my endless train of toxic thoughts overwhelm me.

I was so long in my own mind that I didn’t notice the door opening until a shadow blocked my vision, and I noticed the platinum blond man sitting down on the stairs below me, resting his back on the wall on the side.

“Y’know...I haven’t been to many birthday parties before, but I’m pretty sure the birthday girl is supposed to be pampered and the center of attention, and yet, here you are, outside, alone and sad.” the man spoke seriously, with his usual light glint. “How much did they pay you?” I muttered, lighting another cigarette, realising that the other one burn without taking another drag of it. “Hmmm? What do you mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “I’m tipsy, not stupid. You think I can’t think rationally after 8 shots? You’re dead wrong. Now, tell me, how much did they pay you and what exactly did they tell you to do?” I asked in a pressed tone, side-eyeing him. “You’re certainly perceptive, I give you that. T’was quite a lot of money to spend the night with you.” he tilted his head in a playful way. “Not only they have no faith in me to get someone to even remotely like me...They have to pay someone to do something that I dread with a burning passion. Do you even know my name? I don’t know yours.” I shrugged, hanging my head, gritting my teeth in annoyance. “I see your friends screwed up a bit. Name’s Worick, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand towards me. “...Y/N. Nice to meet you too...I think.” I sighed, staring reluctantly at his hand, before slowly shaking it. “Pretty name for a pretty girl. Wanna talk to a guy you’ll never see again? I heard that venting and letting out pent up emotions helps.” he offered, making me look at him with a weird face. “You know you’re not gonna get any action, so you try to do something for the money you earned, huh?” I snorted, raking my fingers through my hair. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. Contrary to my profession, I’m a pretty chill guy. What do you have to lose, talking to someone you’ll never see again? And besides, I have little room to judge you, so if that’s your worry, you can throw it away.” he lit up a cigarette, puffing up into the sky. “You’re...Not wrong here. Okay, fine, Pretty Boy. Imagine this. You’re not even of age, you get your first lover and you’re happy. You finally feel superior. Someone gives a fuck about you...That’s the definition of a lover, after all, I guess...But here’s the deal. Barely one month into the relationship, the person starts getting very pushy and pressures you, without you realising. Words and actions. It goes to the point that they force you to do things that you don’t want to and you’re not ready to, mentally or physically...And you can’t do anything except for denying, since they don’t listen and they overpower you. How is that, so far?” I spoke, taking a few breaks in between sentences to keep myself grounded and lucid. “Very suckish. Does any of your friends know that?” Worick asked in a gentle voice. “They do...My two best friends do. The ones who apparently paid you. I don’t know what’s in those tiny brains of theirs, but I don’t think a one night stand is going to somehow magically get me rid of all problems, traumas, self-issues and nightmares I’ve been having for the last years. Or maybe I’m just paranoid. I don’t know, and at this point, I can’t stay that I care.” I shrugged, leaning back on the stairs. “Maybe you have the wrongs friends. I heard words about you that I don’t think friends should speak like that about their so called best friend who trusted them enough with their bad experiences.” he pointed out nonchalantly, as I shifted my gaze towards him with a frown. “After today...I...Think the same. I...Just...Wasn’t expecting something like this. What more can I say. I am disappointed. And if that wasn’t enough, my second boyfriend, who was a virgin, saw my own virginity as a prize. And the third pity-dated me. Can it get any worse? Because, if yes, I honestly give up.” I sighed, ruffling my hair, obviously done with life. “Life sure sucks, huh? And most people don’t make it any better. All we can do is get stronger, carry on, and fight our nightmares.” he nodded in agreement, clearly sympathetic. “...I see you’re speaking from experience. I wonder what happened to your eye...It may sound insensitive, but after what I just told you, I don’t think there’s any more need for caution.” I smirked at him with a dark sort of self-deprecation that I could also sense in him. “Well, y’know...Sometimes parents aren’t the safe haven they ought to be.” he shrugged, extinguishing the finished cigarette on the stairs. “I see. Yeah, life sucks. I guess I can see why you become a Gigolo. An attractive guy selling his body for money...By what they said, you are the most popular. I can see why. I feel sorry for you.” I gave him a sympathetic smile that disappeared as fast as it came. “You have a pretty smile, y’know? I always thought that people who can smile despite all they’ve been through are the strongest.” he commented, smiling back. “Is that why you appear to be so cheerful? You’re strong, not only physically, but mentally and emotionally too? Wish I was the same. Maybe people won’t find me such an easy target to take advantage of.” I snorted sarcastically, making him chuckle. “It’s a pity people are shit to the few remaining ones who don’t give in to society’s awfulness. But what is a sweet girl like you doing in a shithole like Ergastulum? Doesn’t quite add up.” he asked, getting in a better sitting position. “Life happened. Dad left us, and mum is abroad working to get me enough money to go to university by the end of this year. This place, despite how scary and dangerous it is, was the cheapest place I could afford.” I bit my lip, trying not to worry too much about the future. “I’m sure you’re gonna nail it, so don’t worry too much. You seem like a smart girl, so just study hard and don’t forget to enjoy life. By your standards, not others’.” he smirked, tilting his head towards the door. “You’re funny, Worick. I wish we met under different circumstances.” my voice became lower, only to get interrupted by the door slamming open and the girls leaving the place. “Well, look at you two, lovebirds! You look so cuuuuuuuute! Hey, Gigolo, better take good care of her, got it?! The night is still young for you two! Awesome birthday party, as usual, Y/N, see ya next time!” the girls left, making me blush from embarassment, looking away. “You’ve got very sensible friends.” he muttered ironically, shaking his head. “I’ll...Go tidy the apartment. Maybe I’ll be able to focus on something else. Come one, I’ll warm up some pizza.” I shrugged, getting inside the house. “I didn’t think you’d want me around in your home.” Worick pointed out, leaning on a wall. “You got paid to spend the night with me, correct? Then you’ll do what you got paid for. Keeping me company. You have no idea how refreshing it is talking to someone with some fucking brain in their head.” I plopped down on the couch, putting my feet on the table, turning on the TV to a rock music program and patting the seat next to me for him to join. “It’s an honour to spend time with you.” he chuckled, taking a slice of pizza, leaning back on the couch and mimicking my position.

For the rest of the night, he was gracious enough to help me tidy up and clean everything, and when we were finally done, I went to change in my nightgown, taking a book and getting in bed, only to see the man leaning on the frame of the door awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget. Let me find some larger clothes for you to change into.” I put the book down, going to the wardrobe and finding some oversized clothes in which I sometimes sleep. “Are these yours?” he chuckled in amusement. “Yep.Gotta be comfy when you sleep, right?” I shrugged, getting back in bed. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I sleep naked.” his grin grew wider, making me frown in confusion. “Sleeping naked is comfy for you?” I put the book on my lap, looking at him for an answer. “Did you try?” he asked smugly. “Yeah. I felt incredibly uncomfortable and anxious the for hours and couldn’t sleep. At 4 AM I couldn’t stand it any longer and I put a nightgown on.” I scratched my cheek, looking away. “That’s adorable. What were you reading?” he asked, getting closer to me. “Get changed and you can come over. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch. You got paid, you deserve better.” I waved my hand at him dismissively, only for him to leave the room, get changed, take the book from my hand, flip through all the pages, and return it. “Ah, Picture of Dorian Gray. I’ve been wanting to read it for a while, thanks for the opportunity, I have to say, I rather appreciate his monologues.” he gave me a shit-eating grin, plopping in bed next to me. “I...You...Huh?! You can’t tell me you just read THIS book, right now, for the first time in your life, by just flipping rapidly through the pages!” my expression was that of pure shock and disbelief, which clearly amused him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, sweet cheeks.” he smirked, laying his head down on the pillow. “You...You have an extraordinary visual memory?!” I asked in a voice that I wasn’t sure was heard. “You’ve got that right, darling.” he chuckled with a satisfied smile. “...WHY THE HELL ARE YOU A PROSTITUTE?! YOU ARE A GENIUS! YOU COULD DO SO MUCH MORE WITH YOUR LIFE! EARN AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF MONEY! DO YOU HAVE NO AMBITION AND SAFE-LOVE?!” I grab him by the shoulders, shaking him, until he stopped me. “Calm doooown, Y/N, calm down. Thanks for looking out for me, but life is life. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got all I need here. You, however, have the whole life ahead of you, so don’t waste it like I did.” he advised in a soft voice, making me look at him for a few seconds, before sighing, getting up, and picking another book. “We won’t be seeing each other again, will we? Well, if that’s the case, take this. It’s a thanks for being nice to me today...But promise me you will take your time reading it, unlike now. Rest, relax, drink a hot cup of tea, and read each page carefully. Enjoy it, live it, feel it. Can you promise me that?” I asked, handing him the book. “The Hobbit, huh? Pretty cover, intriguing summary on the back...Fine, Y/N. I can’t 100% promise you, but I will try. Are you really willing to part with this one? It seems special for you.” he asked, more serious this time. “...Maybe sometimes the stupid ideas that your heart gives you are better than the rational ones from your brain. Now go sleep, I want to read.” I looked away from him, opening my book and pretending to read, away from him.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and fifteen, all of them in a deadly silence, almost awkward, until a chuckle split the atmosphere, making me turn around, looking at the man with a confused look.

“Usually, when people read, they turn the page after five minutes. What’s on your mind?” he asked, taking a strand of my hair and loosely twirling it with his finger. “..Well...You’re a stranger. And...We’ve only talked for a few hours. I know it makes no sense to ask this of you, but...I won’t be seeing you tomorrow anyway, so...Uhm...Do you think...I'm...Cold and mean...And unapproachable?” I mutter, looking away from him. “Not at all. I find you very endearing. The quiet ones are always the ones who have the best surprises once you get to know them. People deal with problems differently, it just takes the right person to want to understand you.” he kissed the strand of hair, making me bite my lip and turn off the lap light so my possibly pink cheeks won’t be noticeable. “Great. Thanks for the info. Now...How about you earn the money you got paid? You can do that by holding me and playing with my hair until I fall asleep.” I try to keep my voice from wavering. “You don’t have to put that pretext as a front, I would do that even if I wasn’t paid.” he chuckled lightly, holding me close to his chest, his fingers masterfully soothing my senses as he caressed by hair. “...Thanks.” I muttered, hiding my flustered face in his chest. “I have insomnia and general sleeping problems, including sleep paralysis and nightmares...And the only thing that used to be able to put me to sleep without waking up in the middle of the night would be mum holding me and playing with my hair until I fell asleep.” I confessed, my voice becoming softer and more emotional. “Thank you for trusting me with this precious memory, Y/N. It’s going to be okay. Now close your eyes...Sweet dreams, Y/N.” his peaceful, velvety voice was the last thing I heard before falling into a restful and calm sleep, for the first time in ages.

When morning came and I woke up, the bed was empty on the side that Worick was and I almost feared I imagined the whole thing...Until I noticed a piece of paper on the pillow where he slept.

“You’re a beautiful person, don’t let the darkness take over you. I hope to hear from you again, in the future, under better circumstances. ~ Worick”

To that, a phone number was written, and the first thing that came into my mind was to get that it tattooed on my body so I won’t lose it.  Of course, that will never happen, so I’ll settle for writing it everywhere I can.

For some reason, I wanted to make him proud, and I still had no idea why, so I only called him once a year, on my birthday, and on that day, we would chat on the phone all night, in memory of that night.  Finally leaving Ergastulum to go to University and get a better life for myself was something revolutionary for me, but after over 6 years, I managed to do just that. However, there was something that never left my brain, and that was the platinum haired man that completely changed the way I viewed life and how to approach it.

And I returned to Ergastulum after almost a decade.

I was dressed in a cute dress, and this time, unlike last time, a confident smile was on my face. Even though it’s fake, I adopted the “Fake it till you make it” motto, and nobody has to know about my problems.

I vibe.

Asking around for Worick, I find out he works as the Benriya with another man called Nicolas, who’s a tag, and even better, I got his address, so I knew just where to go.

As I entered the shabby apartment that was, for some reason, unlocked, I see a meek looking woman sitting on the couch, looking down.

“Did Worick get a girlfriend?” I leaned on the wall, a playful smirk on my face. “Wh-What?! G-Girlfriend?! W-Wait, who are you?!” she shot up to her feet, looking at me with big, blue doe eyes, frightened, might I say. “You’re adorable. What’s your name? And can I ask where Worick is? I’ve been told this is where he lives.” I played with a strand of my hair, trying not to intimidate the girl...Too much. “U-Uhm...He...He’s in his room...Who are you, miss?” she asked, trying to get some courage. “A friend, I’d like to think. From about ten years ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” I was ready to go look for him, only for a door to open, and the man in cause to appear, wearing only black boxers, and stretching...He obviously just woke up. “Ally? What’s all the noise?” he yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes. “Do you have a cute nickname for me too, Worick?” I smirked at him, as he widened his single eye, his jaw dropping in shock. “Y/N...?” he muttered my name, making me grin widely. “Glad you remember me. It has been quite a while since we’ve seen each other...And you age like fine wine, I’m telling you...You’re a sight for sore eyes.” he chuckled softly, only for him to come and pick me up, spinning a bit, before putting me down, cupping my face and kissing my forehead, leaving me a surprised and flustered mess. “And look at you! Can you get prettier than this? I told ya, you have a beautiful smile!” he grinned childishly, pinching my cheeks, making me yelp in pain and slap his hands away. “Jerk! That hurts! Ahem...Anyway, dear Gigolo, how are you? I heard some stuff about you working with someone named Nicolas...But I doubt her name is Nicolas.” I chuckled, pushing him softly away. “Oh, yes! Y/N, this is Alex, our new friend. You can say she’s kinda...Our secretary? I guess? Anyway, come over, we have a lot to catch up on!” he guided me to his bedroom that was, unsurprisingly, messy. “Wonderful and clean, just as expected. Have you ever thought of opening the window?” I teased him, plopping on his bed that was unexpectedly soft. “You, lazy little vixen...Here. I bought it years ago, after finishing the book you gave me, and I wanted to find out more. Now, I’m giving it to you. Are we even?” he smirked, handing me a copy of Fellowship of the Ring book. “We’d be even if I’d spend the night over as well. And if you gave me drinks and pizza. Basically a date. That will do.” I told him, looking dearly at the book I got gifted, although I already read it before. “My God, since when are you so bold?” he asked, getting on the bed, resting his chin on my knees, looking at me like a happy puppy. “Did you miss me, Worick? I hope you did, otherwise that little piece of paper you left would be incredibly disappointing and misleading.” I pointed out, booping his nose. “I’ve been thinking about you since then. By the looks of it, so did you. Are you sure you want a date with someone like me? You are beautiful, you are brilliant, your attitude in endearing as hell...And I’m still a Gigolo and my life is here, in Ergastulum. Don’t regret it later on.” he asked with a more serious tone, only for me to scoff and pull on his hair playfully. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Besides...Unlike you, I don’t need to be paid to spend quality time with you, doing nothing but chilling and chatting.” I teased him, making him laugh, as he plopped next to me, poking my cheek. “Great, problem solved! You’ve got yourself a parasite latching on you. Good luck getting rid of him now.” he grinned cheekily, only for me to cup his face and pull him into a kiss. “Why would I wanna get rid of a parasite this cute? Now shut up and hold me, it’s been ten years and I’m touch starved.” I grinned, nuzzling in the crook of his neck. “Damn, how I missed you.” he held me tightly to his chest, occasionally peppering my face with kisses.

It was definitely worth coming back to this God Forsaken place, even if it is for only one person. There’s place for everyone in this world, and in others’ hearts, and I found my place, in Worick’s warm arms, where I feel safest and most loved.

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