nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|
prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.
based off this prompt from the other day :)
contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.
“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”
“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.
“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.
“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.
“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.
“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.
The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?
You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.
Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.
“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.
“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”
Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.
There you were.
Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.
“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”
“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.
“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.
“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”
“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.
Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.
From: Richie
‘Look at table nine.’
Sugar huffed.
To: Richie
‘Why? Is there something wrong?’
She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?
To: Richie
‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’
From: Richie
‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’
Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.
Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”
“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”
“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”
“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.
“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.
“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”
“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”
Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.
“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.
“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.
“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.
“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.
“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.
“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”
Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.
Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.
“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.
“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.
“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.
“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.
“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”
Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.
“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”
Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”
“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”
Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”
“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”
“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”
“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.
Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.
“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”
Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.
This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.
“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”
Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”
“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”
Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.
“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.
Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.
“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”
“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”
“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”
“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?”
Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.
summary: you and max can never agree on the same topic of conversation and it might be the thing that breaks you up
warnings: angst, some yelling
word count: 805
the tortured athletes department series
you love max. you really do. but you hate when he brings up the same topic of conversation that you'll never agree on.
“i’m not moving to monaco.” you say for the million time.
“i’m just saying it would be way easier for us.” he answers unbothered while eating his dinner.
you avoid rolling your eyes at his comment and just decide to ignore him. since you got together, distance has been a complicated issue for you both. with max flying almost the whole year for races and then going home to monaco and you working and living in new york, the two of you only saw each other during breaks and when you could occasionally fly to see him race.
and yes, maybe it would make it easier if one of you just moved, but why did it have to be you? living in new york has been your dream since you were a kid and saw it in the movies, and now that you finally got a job that you enjoy in the city of your dreams, are you really gonna leave it? hell no.
“why don’t you think about it?” he insists.
you drop the fork you were holding on the plate creating an exaggerated noise.
“would you do it for me?” you ask, exhausted. “would you move to new york for me?” he shakes his head and went back to his dinner.
“is not the same.” he says.
“why don’t you move to new york?” you ask instead. this caught his attention and he finally moved his eyes from the food to you. “what is it to you anyway? you’re traveling the whole time, i on the other hand, actually work here.”
“you can get a job in monaco.” he replies like he always did when the topic came up.
“i don’t want a different job!” you raise your voice. “and i don’t want to move to monaco.” he didn’t said anything, fearing that whatever came out of his mouth would disturb you more than you already were. “if you wouldn’t do it for me, why would i do it for you?”
you regret it the moment you said it, but it was too late now, it was out there. you could recognize the pain in max’s face from miles away and you felt a little guilty that you were relieved when you said it so you didn’t have to hide your thoughts on the topic anymore.
“because that is what people in relationships do, y/n.” he answers, his tone rather harsh. “you sacrifice things for each other.”
“why do i have to be the one to sacrifice things?” you couldn’t stop now that it was out there.
“why are you being so immature about this?” he exhales, a tired expression on his face which only made you angrier.
“i’m not acting “immature” about this.” you attack. “you just ask me to give up my whole life to go live in a complete different continent for you and i said no, period.”
“so what are we supposed to do, y/n?” he raise his voice at you also. “what are we doing here? playing around?” you frown, nodding your head in disbelief. “i love you too much but this long distance thing is killing me.” he admits.
to be fair, you weren’t the biggest fan of long distance either, but there was no other choice. it was either that or broke up, and you definitely didn’t want to break up.
“look, i know it is not perfect but what else can we do?” you ask, even though the answer was right there, it was obvious that neither of you was going to give in.
“this cannot be the thing that breaks us up.” he whispers but you heard him.
“of course we’re not gonna break up, max.” you say. “that seems extreme.” a grimace of sadness appeared on your face.
“well, i’m not sure what else…” he didn’t continue. “i’m not moving to new york.” he says with a serious tone. “and it seems like you’re not moving to monaco. and none of us wants to do long distance.” you kept quiet, trying to wrap your mind around what he was implying, praying that your conclusions were wrong.
“so?” you ask somewhat fearfully.
“so… i don’t know.”
“you want to end things?” you question straightforwardly, not wanting to wander anymore where his mind was.
“i don’t.” he answers. “but can we continue how we are?” his face was of true despair.
“is it really this serious?” your voice was seconds away from breaking but you didn’t want to look shattered in front of him.
“you tell me.” he says with a lump on his throat.
you couldn’t help but wonder if this was always how it was going to end.
Matchbox: mixed media animation of all the little boxes inside my brain (someone hire me to animate a music video pls)
more of my work here and process ramblings under the cut
So yeah this was a ridiculous project about "identity" and so I made my life incredibly complicated by shooting the entire thing in stop motion on a green screen w/ each individual matchbox as a green screen as well. Then animated a million little boxes by hand. Then Added in some 3d stuff bec presumably i'm doing this master's in 3d motion design.
the major success was finishing this without hating the song bec of how many times i had to listen to it while syncing everything up.
im serious tho someone hire me to make silly music videos PLEASE
Saw somebody mentioning Vox meeting his assistant Dom in hell and I’m just imagining him doing some PR event, flashing that million dollar smile and shmoozing when he looks into the crowd and freezes.
It’s not uncommon for people not to recognize those who they knew in life because of how crazy the changes can be (he has a tv head for hell’s sake) but he recognizes that posture and that confident, no-nonsense look. It’s kind of like looking at a fun house mirror version of someone he used to know.
At this point, he’s been dead for a while and enough time has passed to establish himself (maybe the vees are already a thing or maybe he’s on the rise) so he’s already put his past behind him in exchange for the new and trendy. But now he’s having a flashback to firm hands, a stern voice, and late nights in his office. He blue screens a bit and has to laugh it off in front of the interviewers.
After: It makes sense that you’d be in hell, maybe you’ve been here a while without him knowing. He remembers how good you were at your job. In life you were resourceful and ruthless, taking pride in doing the impossible.
If you were working for someone else it could cause serious trouble for his company. You could also be a major asset if hired but…
Hell is a lot more lax than 1950s America but he’s built a very specific image for himself and power is EVERYTHING down here. He thought he had rebuilt himself and put it all behind him but this could risk everything.
He’d be careful this time, keep you at a distance. He could have you as a skilled worker AND keep his pride intact. It’s a big company, you won’t even have to be in the same room. And he’s so much stronger than he used to be. He can keep his image, it won’t happen again and he totally isn’t thinking about it.
Maybe the assistant joins, maybe she doesn’t… or maybe she makes him beg
-Friday
Friday anon you have a way with words oh my god because I love this idea so much. Lowkey you really sold this, you’d be a good writer ☝️🤨
But the way this would throw him through a crazy ass loop. Because he’s probably built himself up in his head, and being an overlord with a, quite literally, inhuman amount of power, he definitely has a new standard for himself.
Because now it’s more than just gender roles and fragile masculinity, it’s an even more fragile god complex. So to think he’s grown out of whatever submissive, borderline weak phase he was in during life isn’t exactly out of the question.
Part of him didn’t want to risk it, but you working for another overlord could cause problems. With his new empire on the rise, he could use an efficient, overachiever type of worker. However, the one thing that would change was the dynamic.
Simply put, there wouldn’t be one. Although he could use your help for his business, an arms length distance would be more than appropriate. After all, being seen as weak in hell could have a more dire effect.
Good thing that wouldn’t be a problem; a strong man in life makes a stronger one in death, after all. So he approaches you after the PR event, trying to act as casual as possible, treating as a ‘Y/n, how longs it been!? Decades?” kind of conversation. Acting as if your relationship was never as intimate as it really was.
Thankfully, you knew to go along with his casual tone, just like he trusted you would. However, you went along with it a little too well. His ‘arms length’ approach was working extraordinarily well, however thanks you to you. His plan was to ignore you in hallways, maybe a small wave at best, and only engage when he specifically had too.
But even then, in closed off hallways in the off chance of seeing each other, his small nod would be greeted with absolute silence. Not even a look in his direction. This has happened a few times, no look, no wave, not even a shoulder bump. Scarily formal.
Were you mad? No, you wouldn’t have wasted time being petty. But if nothing you’ve done has been petty, that means you really just didn’t care. You got your work done, at an incredible pace, as per usual, exceeding all other workers. Your name was known throughout the office and the more business deals you closed for Voxtech, throughout the small business clicks of hell.
But you stayed loyal, not to Vox, but to Voxtech. Did that mean you did care? No, Vox supposed, it meant that just as in life, you liked to finish jobs you started, or at the very least not abruptly switch bases. So does that mean you and Vox’s incredibly hot work affair meant nothing to you?
…Because it didn’t to him either. But there were days he’d catch a glimpse of you in the offices working, and he can’t help but let his mind wonder to those late nights. He’d always put up a fight, but you and your stern tone and firm hands elegantly broke him down, each and every time.
The shame he’d felt at being overpowered and conquered by his female assistant, but his hunger for more lingered on his mind just like your perfume lingered through the rooms you exited.
It’d been years, but seeing as it was the hottest sex in his life and death, he’d remembered the little details; the smell of your hair, your hands, the dominance in your voice, your knowing look, your lips, fuck your hands… and now it’s late and most of everybody else is gone. And Vox makes his way over to your office.
Your door is open, but he still knocks his knuckles against the wood, lingering in the door frame, “Knock, knock.”
You recognize the voice, raise an eyebrow, and to Vox’s dismay, barely glance up your paperwork. Setting your mug on your desk, you adjust yourself on the chair, telling him to “Come in.”
“Y/n,” Vox brushes off a speck of lint off his suit jacket and grins, “Thought I’d check on your work. If i’m correct, you have important paperwork to turn in?”
He hoped he was. In all honesty, he didn’t pay much attention to the employees specific jobs unless it purposely inconvenienced or benefited him. Otherwise, he didn’t check what various paperwork was delivered or checked by who.
You smile, “Just finishing up, easy stuff. It’ll be a breeze for you, just a few signatures.”
Setting your papers down, you finally look at him, “Will that be all, sir?”
Vox’s smile drops. No, it shouldn’t be. It simply didn’t feel right for it to be. But your look wasn’t questioning, instead almost amused, as if you were expecting this, and looking forward to his leaving.
Without anything else to do, Vox simply stalled. Did you think to do this? What about this other thing? Well this is nearly impossible so surely you hadn’t done this! But, some things never change. And you had in fact done everything. Not only that, but your smile grew with every task you’ve already accomplished.
Finally Vox snapped. Just as he’s done before, blabbering aimlessly about your overachieving, meaninglessly raising his voice is his facade display of dominance.
Then you stood up, and considered his outburst. “You know, i’ve been getting other offers. Companies who ‘care’ more. Pay more,” he goes silent, “You want me to stay?”
He nods, going to say something else before you cut him off.
“Anything else you want?” you drawl, backing him into the door.
☆warnings: angst, reader throws stuff at heeseung?
☆genre: angst, lovers to strangers
☆song suggestion: you were beautiful-day6
☆summary: heeseung came over for what you thought was a date, but you were so wrong
please, please cant we make this work?
you begged him, pulling on his hand, bringing your hand up to graze his face.
but he pushes your hand away, looking at you
like he had shut off.
from you, from everything.
he looks at you and repeats the cold break up letter his company made him say.
we aren’t working. we never did, and this relationship benefited neither of us. i need to focus on my career and not on this little relationship.
your heart broke, right then and there into a million pieces. you dropped to the floor and started sobbing.
did everything we did together mean nothing? the nights i snuck into your dorm as we giggled and talked about nothing, but yet everything. you tug at his pants edge
please no, no you still love me, right? you start chuckling as you stand up.
yeah, your company, your company made you say this right? right?
he never responds, his face as cold as it was when he walked into your apartment.
you stop talking and stand there
you and him
suddenly you feel a wave of anger. how could he? you knew he loved you, he adored you. he would never do this to you.
how could you? i thought we had something! you couldn’t even have the backbone to say no to your stupid company. i hate you! i hate you i hate you i hate you!
you start screaming at him as you start to throw things at him. pillows, blankets, anything you could get your hands on.
but he stood there. taking every hit, not saying a single word
you grabbed the plushie he won for you on your first date, and just as you were about to throw it in his face your adrenaline died out.
you just stood there until you muttered the three words that broke his heart.
get out now
you drop the plushie, the one that he won for you, not daring to pick it back up.
he stands there for a bit, and then bows to you.
and he walks out.
you drop to the floor, sobbing as you hold his plushie to your chest.
as soon as he walks out, he starts sobbing.
you didn’t want this, and neither did he.
never in a billion years
authors note: my first angst piece !! life was unfortunately not life-ing when i wrote this :(
can i say something. i am kind of scared to say something bc dick ship wars kind of scare me even though i have absolutely no preference and care extremely little about dick ships. but. hm. the thinking about 80s and 90s medias as products of their time got me thinking a bit.
so. the interesting thing to me about dick-kory in the 70s and 80s vs dick-babs in the 90s and early 00s os how much each of those couples was entrenched in the media ideals of the time and what people were looking for in a ship.
so like, if you look at dick-kory, theirs is a larger than life love that is destined from the moment she kissed him to learn human language. and theirs is a dynamic and relationship dripping in the popular soap opera tropes that were very pervasive a the time. you can't actually divorce their tribulations (dick being kind of condescending to kory as the Man of the relationship, she's a princess who has to get married for political reasons and dick gets mad, kory gets mad at him for supposedly cheating when he was raped by mirage, the epic wedding that gets literally blown up by raven to name a few) from the media norms that were very popular. they fight passionately and make up passionately very frequently. this is a very common dynamic in the 80s, where soap operas were topping the charts. everyone was watching general hospital. *30 million* people tuned in to see luke and laura get married and their relationship started with him raping her (which was later turned into "seduction") and they were considered like THE couple ever. everyone was watching dynasty. dallas was hugely popular. falcon crest. knots landing. dick and kory's relationship mirrors a lot of what people were eating up back then in the soap opera type media the new titans was emulating. luke and laura. gary and valene. bo and hope. bobby and pam. dick and kory. can you really talk about dick and kory if you don't know what was going on with "bope" back then? for reference, here's what was going on with bo and hope:
anyways. enter the 90s and the soap opera fervor died down in a massive way. soap operas were no longer prime time material and their popularity died down in a massive way & actually people started more making fun of the overwrought storylines and soaps in general. the ideas of destined, one true love was suddenly far more unappealing to people who thought it was cheesy & tired. what people in the 90s were looking for was not true love that is constantly tested and put through the wringer--what was gaining in popularity was UST and will they won't they dynamics. enter dick-babs. and while i wholly disagree with the idea of diminishing kory's importance in dick's life just to uplift babs, i don't entirely disagree with the notion that kory probably wouldn't have really worked in batbooks, so i understand why batbooks wanted to focus on a loveline for dick for a character they had full control of and could work into the stories. and, hm. moving dick away from the destined one true love at the time that was kory allowed them to put him in the romantic situations that 90s audiences were vibing with instead. because you can't suddenly do a will they won't they with a couple who's been solidly dating for *years*. so with dick and babs you're able to do that. he's interested while she's dating someone else. he flirts with someone else for a bit while she's single. while the entire time they're still good working partners while circling around each other. will they? or won't they? and this was super common in late 90s/early 00s sitcom shows that people loved and were at the top of the charts. the x-files with scully and mulder. friends with rachel and ross. fran and mr. sheffield from the nanny. it's still very much playing to what people wanted to see back then.
anyways as someone who truly has no horse in this race i do think media norms of the time around couplings are interesting to dissect.
summary: in which your unlawful affair with fbi agent spencer reid must come to an end
genre: angst, flashback of fluff
cw!: allusions to cheating, kissing, inappropriate innuendos
a/n: this is acc so long but i promise its worth the read, first of many to come!
you watched as spencer methodically fiddled with his tie, a sign that no matter how loose he’d get it to be, it felt like he was choking. you grinned reminiscent, this had brought back to your mind the memory of your first date with him. except he had shorter, neater hair and a less bitter smile.
“how’s your wife” you said, pettiness laced in your words. your arms crossed over your chest, putting up invisible walls, distancing yourself mentally from him. pretending you weren’t thinking about how pretty he’d look under you.
“she’s…well.” he had given you a short, wary response. his eyes studied your face, landing on your lips, he licks his. most likely, he was trying to memorize everything, as if you were a fleeting moment. but you were. you were uncertain about his intents when his eyes wandered for a few seconds.
“how’s dan?” the word ‘dan’ came out with a petulant smile, and sour tone. flourishing the little likeness he had toward him.
the conversation bored you out of your mind. he was holding back. he could’ve said about a million things by now but he chose to keep silent, neglecting your tortured heart even more.
“i think he’s cheating on me, though im still not sure. but i have strong points on the subject, good reasoning” you say dismissively, looking down at your nails. the issue didn’t seem to faze you. after all, some could say you had committed certain behaviors that could allude as cheating.
spencer tried to bite back the grin that was forming on his face, he looked down to try and conceal it.
“i’m sorry about that…” his tone seemed untruthful. he wasn’t sorry about it, because he knew the things he’d done with you while both of you had a ring on your fingers.
you gnawed on your bottom lip. thinking of an ingenious comment that would make him laugh. a quip to start some friendly fire. something that could break through the crushing tension that lingered between the both of you, like thick vines wrapped around your neck, making you unable to speak.
‘i love you, it’s ruining my life’ was all that your brain could come up with, but of course, this wasn’t exactly the best thing to say given the setting and circumstances. but it was how you felt. you treasured every touch and every word, hanging onto every detail desperately. every fortnight that his wife would be out of town. it was unlawful, but, who were you to neglect an invitation with spencer reid? until then, your mornings are all mondays. stuck in an endless february. unable to move on from what should be yours.
you meet his gaze, regretting it almost immediately. knowing the lethal effects he had on you, like some sort of drunkenness that had turned you into a barely functioning alcoholic. his eyes change, his smile differs. he swallows, clearing his throat.
“we can’t do this anymore.” he speaks, his voice sounds brittle and unsure. you don’t break eye contact. you listen intently to his words.
“my wife…my wife knows that i don’t stay late at the BAU as much as i say i do.”
“im a profiler, i can lie but- it doesn’t take away from the fact that this can’t happen anymore.”
“i mean you know how i feel about you, i just- i just can’t keep up with the ruse. i love you and it’s ruining my life.”
your eyes widen at the last sentence, appalled. you tried to decipher spencer’s words. reading between the lines, seeking for some sort of clue that hinted towards the truth. if he loves you, why can’t he stay?
“okay…can we at least stay friends?” you ask him cautiously. even if it meant no more sneaking around, his eyes would at least stay in your life.
spencer swallowed harshly, your eyes lingering over his adam’s apple as he does so. he looks uncertain. you figure maybe his wife was the one with the real issue, not him. you wanted to kill her.
“sure” his voice was slightly above a whisper. he looked away. almost as if, if he continued to hold your gaze he’d had no choice but to give in. that’s what you wanted him to do, to cave in, like always. you wondered if this would be the last fortnight spent with him, and suddenly, realization hit you like a 10 ton truck. you looked down as well, confidence derailing.
“but you’re still my best friend, spence” your voice was nearly a whimper, sounding like a wounded dog. you look up at him with glassy eyes. tilting you head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you try to control your emotions. you look down, hands fidgeting nervously.
“yes, of course…we just can’t have those benefits anymore” he wants to do nothing more than to grab you and hold you in his arms. to say sorry for everything he had put your through. instead he looks to the waiter.
“check, please” he clears his throat and hopes the sound of his tearing heart isn’t too loud as you look up to look at him with tear rimmed eyes. you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. spencer pays the tab, leaving a generous tip. you get up from your seat, incapable to look at spencer in the eye.
you don’t notice him stepping towards you. your breath hitches as you stare up at him, the closest you’ve been to him all night. his calloused hand cups your cheek, fingers tracing your face, to your under eye. you blink, cursing yourself internally as a tear slips. you look away. he sighs, wiping the tears carefully with his thumb.
“im sorry, you know what i’d do if i could…if things were different” his words are just more salt to fresh cuts. even if he sounded regretful, even if he was sorry, you still had the right to be sad.
“it’s fine, you aren’t mine, i shouldn’t be this sad” you harshly take a step back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. his mouth stays slightly agape at your sudden movement. he bites down at his lip, sighing, admitting defeat. you were right, he was never yours and you were never his. two parallel lines who never got the chance to see what could’ve been if the circumstances were different.
he had corrupted you, nights that belonged to only you would fade into a memory. the touches that lasted a fortnight. the feeling of his hands in your hair, your clothes on his bedroom floor.
you loved him, and it was ruining your life.
“goodbye, reid” you tone was purposefully cruel, and the choice of using his last name. you looked at him for a second, fighting the instinct of kissing him as a goodbye. he stared with pitiful eyes as you walked away, bell chiming as you opened and closed the door. for a moment he regretted everything said, wishing to just run away and live in the mountains, to follow through on that quiet life you had both talked about when the night passed 3am. tangled in bedsheets. he curses his eidetic memory for remembering your tearful expression, comparing it to the soft, sweet smile you had on every time you left him. can he erase every curve, every dimple he knew you had, every tiny change in your expression he could read like a book, over and over? no, he will be cursed with the gift of knowing, just like you’ll be cursed with the sound of his voice. soft and tender, the sound of his whispers of foreign words against your ear.
“Я тебя обожаю.” his voice is quiet, nose brushing against your neck as he places soft kisses against it. you giggle at the ticklish feeling, grabbing his face delicately to stop him.
“what does that mean?” you ask with a smile, pressing gentle kisses to the bridge of his nose, his face heating up in your hands.
“i adore you” he grins, leaning against your hand and kissing it.
“i know that but what does the sentence mean?” he rolls his eyes as you break out laughing, throwing your head over his shoulder, giggling as if it was the funniest joke you had ever told. you look up at him, both of you grinning widely as he places a proper kiss against your lips.
– Bernard started TALKING in this specific MANNER for the BIT years and years back and now he can't STOP he is STUCK someone HELP him
– he ALSO might be doing it to try to put EMPHASIS on the words he believes should have it and sometimes HE DOES not succeed
– he reads as ADHD coded to me but it might be because I also talk like that so take that with a grain of salt
– "HEY GIRL. I MEAN ANY PRONOUNS"
– Bernard had the most normal home life by far. No contest, won by default. I have a GREAT relationship with both of MY parents because they LOVE me
– he is incredibly observant. alarmingly so. will sometimes act out of the loop on purpose, if he thinks things would just be easier that way. accidentally learns everything about everyone, the guy's an information magnet and he doesn't know how to feel about that
– do you guys think Russ has made a spacesuit with the doc ock arms because I think he has and that he actively uses it on missions
– occasionally jumpscares people and giggles about it. he got the tendency to do this from his mother, who can smell fear
– while I doubt Russ would do things "for the bit" he would ABSOLUTELY act on impulse in the name of the scientific method. this has gotten him hurt before. it's fine
– does not make coffee he just eats the fucking grounds. "it's a Giyan thing, you wouldn't understand" this is not true at all he is LYING
– Russ and Yonny get into frequent arguments (light banter) about literally everything and I mean Everything. They could work together they'd be really powerful that way, but they don't
– Russ has so many genuinely funny science puns that he makes and no one ever gets them and it devastates him
– except for Yonny, who is too busy searching for ethics guideline loopholes to acknowledge that he understands the joke
– Yonny has the most HORRIFIC life stories and will drop them CASUALLY. thought they were funny, is only now beginning to realize that it does in fact make people concerned and uncomfortable when he does that
– prefers paper books to digital because he's prone to headaches!! cites "phone bad book good" as the official reason but that's not the reason
– nonbinary and evil. presentation tends to "default" as masc but switches up often! hey girl I mean any pronouns
– knows like a hundred million dead languages for absolutely no reason
– makes art in his spare time because murder is wrong
– Shepherd sleeps with a nightlight, or at the very least can't rest well in complete darkness!! she's just like me fr !!!!
– "she snores" thank you duncan for your contribution. honk shoe
– also I think she might be autistic I can't fully back that one up do not ask me to but look at her. she cares about dogs the way I care about fish
– prone to coming across the wrong way, tone wise. very very good at giving backhanded compliments that were meant to be fully sincere and just got horribly lost in translation. this keeps her up at night. she feels AWFUL
– big fan of karaoke!! not exactly GOOD at it but we love her initiative
– as afraid as she is of the pikmin, their voices and funny little words are very catchy and she does find herself repeating them often. she will not admit this. it is embarrassing
– Collin is also autistic. I could make an entire separate post on this I'm being so goddamn serious, I have so much reasoning, I am fully confident that he is, and that he masks REALLY hard, and it enormously fucked him up
– special interest in machinery (NO ONE saw THIS coming)
– transmasculine. his name is a pun on "call in." heard the phrase and realized he had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever
– we only hear about his grandfather, and not even from him; no other family is mentioned at all!! went no contact with like everybody else, above points might be why. people with normal childhoods don't stand like that
– adding onto the canon sleep talking with sleep movement! a LOT of it! has probably kicked someone before!!
– "he wakes up upside down" thank you duncan
– i think maybe Dingo might still have glow stick light up bones. will rediscover this one day during an expedition mishap and it will be an Experience
– not a hc but Dingo is the type of guy to get bit in a zombie apocalypse and not tell anyone until the literal last second
– "he would also say "fuck my stupid baka life"" thank you duncan
– would fight by rolling up his sleeves and jumping around cartoonishly. he would more likely talk like he's winning the fight when he is in fact actively losing. "had enough yet? (on the floor)"
– definitely games and he wins the competitive ones by button mashing. "I'll never tell you my strategy" he prays that's the strategy
– his sleep schedule is NOT normal. it's so beyond skewed. he either gets like 2 hours of sleep or he wakes up the following night not knowing what year it is
how do you build up the tension between two characters without dragging it out or jumping the gun by rushing it?
This is a great question! I mostly write romance/romcoms so I'm going to answer this about building romantic tension, but I'm guessing it works for other kinds as well.
As always, please feel free to reblog or comment with your thoughts, suggestions, disagreements!
The first thing that comes to mind for me is to think about all of the ways they're going to show their progression into the romance--their relationship milestones--and make sure they're spread out in a way that feels balanced and good.
In a romance, the things you're aiming for as relationship milestones will vary depending on what type of book you're writing. If it's a steamy enemies to lovers story, the sex will start pretty early into the book, so the will-they-or-won't-they isn't about sex, it's about feelings. The big milestones in that case might be things like
admitting attraction
hooking up
sex
first feelings of romance (you shove them under a rug)
first feelings of romance (you admit to yourself you have them)
first time testing out if they like you as more than an sex partner
first time admitting you liiiiike them
first time them admitting they liiiiike you
love confession/happily ever after
On the flip side, a slow burn friends to lovers (no steam), it may be things like
noticing she's pretty
touching hands by accident on the bus
touching hands ON PURPOSE on the bus
lingering stares
staying up all night talking
picking her up from a date with someone else and being so sad
trying to date someone else
spending the night together AS FRIENDS
erotic hair braiding
happily ever after
Once you think through what some of those milestones will be for your story and your characters, then you can figure out how you want to spread those out throughout your story. Tension comes in the spaces between those milestones and in yearning for the next one, so you need to give space for each milestone to (a) be exciting! (b) be celebrated (or feared or repressed or whatever) and (c) get old enough that we're pining for the next one. That's why you go from touching hands by accident to being brave and terrified and anxious when you decide to do it on purpose.
With the right build up--the pining for the feel of her smooth skin against yours, the noticing how her hands look, day dreaming about her fingers, picturing yourself touching her hand a million times, barely breathing--finally touching her hand on the bus can be as emotionally resonant as sex or a love confession.
consider each milestone as a small emotional climax (sex jokes are welcome and frankly appropriate), and treat it in the way you'd treat the big story climax.
The other thing I'm thinking about is the disconnect between what they say/show and what they think. In my debut novel, the first time Alice sees Van, her inner monologue is immediately like OMG GIRL HOT!!!! THIS BUTCH IS STUNNING AND SMELLS SO GOOD I WANT HER TO TOUCH MEEEEEEEEE. What she actually says out loud is more along the lines of "hi, nice to meet you, i'm your brother's formerly secret girlfriend."
That creates tension because the reader then (hopefully!) thinks, oh wow, how long can Alice keep it together when she's such a bisexual disaster? How long can she go without revealing how badly she wants Van to jump her?
Here's a little map of our milestones and interior/exterior:
first meeting. Alice thinks: GIRL HOT. Alice says: hi i am dating your brother??
first flirt. Alice thinks: if she touches me i'm going to fucking lose it (complementary). Alice says: thanks for the ride home, your dog is cute.
first admit you like each other. Alice thinks: i want to never leave her house or her presence. Alice says: you should be really proud of the life you've built here.
first cuddle. Alice thinks: i'm going to die. i'm actually, physically going to die under this snuggie. this girl is so hot and kind and i'm obsessed with her oh my GOD. Alice says: your mom seems nice.
Those are kind of silly examples, but I hope it helps to be able to see that we're waiting for her inner monologue to match her actions, and the stakes for both get higher and higher as they move through the milestones until the moment when she (a) says what she's thinking, and (b) gets what she wants. Aka, HAPPILY EVER AFTER, BABY.
thoughts, feedback, other suggestions, questions? bring them!
As for my post this morning. If anyone was worried. Me personally I'm okay (I guess) but my dad's in the hospital and things r still very up in the air. So.
its important to watch a new movie or read a new book sometimes. largely because 1) its nice to experience all the art this world has to offer but also 2) you might be able to find new scenarios to imagine your OCs in
Wish I had more of that stereotypical "refined genius psychopath mystery villain" vibes and less "dysfunctional no sleep cycle can't tell when/if they have emotions traumatized mess doesn't feel like a human paranoid future true crime psychopath" vibes. So that was word salad. Moving on.