#I am a little rusty with a pen. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

d-z20 · 2 months ago

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Caught in the Crossfire (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You're an FBI agent and get partnered with Agent Vidal on a big case. When the mission goes wrong and Rio gets shot, you are forced to stay at a safehouse together.

-OR-

They say orgasms are good for pain relief so you fuck Rio to make the pain go away 🙃

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mention of gangs, gunfight, hurt (gunshot wound), smut, fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: They is me, I am they, I say orgasms are effective pain relief. Oh and this is another requested fic :)

AO3 link | Master List

Rio leans against the desk, tapping a pen against the stack of files she’s just dropped with a flourish. Her eyes pin you with a challenging stare. “Five bucks says you screw up this case before the week’s out.”

You glance up from your laptop, unimpressed. “Bold talk from someone who hasn’t cracked a case this big since Quantico. What’s the matter? Rusty?”

This was the rhythm of your partnership: sharp words, sharper looks, and a constant undercurrent of rivalry. You’d both been top recruits at the academy, though on completely different tracks—Rio had excelled at strategy and undercover work, while you were a natural at analysis and tactical planning. When you’d been paired for this joint case six months ago, it was clear you were opposites in every sense, and it made working together a special kind of hell.

The task force had been chasing a dangerous gang involved in arms trafficking. Their network spanned multiple cities, but all signs pointed to the heart of their operations being a hidden warehouse in the city. The gang was clever—covering their tracks with misdirection and red herrings—which made your job of piecing together clues exhausting. But a major break had come two weeks ago when Rio went undercover, infiltrating the gang as a low-level buyer. She’d managed to secure critical intel about their shipment routes and a few key players, but her cover had been blown when one of the gang members got too suspicious.

You’d both known the risk when she took the job, and while you’d been impressed by her quick thinking, you couldn’t ignore the danger that still lingered. Now, you were both back at square one, tracking their movements, one step closer to the warehouse and the showdown tonight.

“Tonight’s operation better go off without a hitch,” you grumble, glancing back down at the laptop. The tension between the two of you, always present when working these kinds of cases, never seems to go away.

Rio smirks and straightens up, walking closer as she flicks through some of the paperwork right next to your laptop.

“You’re standing too close,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the sudden proximity.

Rio doesn’t budge, standing tall with that usual confidence. “You’re the one who can’t stand my brilliance that close to your face, huh?”

You grit your teeth, trying to focus on the case. “You just make everything more difficult.”

She smirks, eyes flicking to your lips as she leans in slightly. “I think you like it that way.”

—

The two of you sit in the cramped surveillance van, tracking the comings and goings of gang members through grainy security footage.

“Don’t get yourself killed tonight,” Rio mutters, strapping on her bulletproof vest. Her tone is teasing, but you catch the flicker of genuine concern behind her words.

“I’m not the one who’s always charging into danger,” you shoot back, pulling on your own vest.

“Someone has to, or we’d be stuck analysing spreadsheets all day,” she says, smirking.

Despite the banter, the tension in the air is palpable. This operation is the culmination of months of work, and failure isn’t an option.

—

The warehouse is eerily quiet when you enter. Your movements are synchronised—Rio leads the way, gun raised, while you keep watch.

“They’re here,” Rio whispers, gesturing toward the far end of the warehouse.

You nod, heart hammering in your chest. The two of you move closer to the group of gang members gathered around crates of weapons. Everything is going according to plan—until it isn’t.

A lookout you hadn’t accounted for shouts a warning. Instantly, all hell breaks loose. Bullets rain down as the gang opens fire.

“Take cover!” Rio shouts, pulling you behind a stack of crates.

You return fire, pulse racing as you try to assess the situation. “We’ve got to fall back!”

“Not yet,” Rio says, jaw tight. She pops up to return fire, but then a sudden cry of pain tears through the air. A bullet strikes her shoulder, and she collapses to the ground.

“Rio!” you shout, stomach dropping. Without thinking, you drag her behind a steel beam, using it for better cover.

“Stay down!” You bark, positioning yourself in front of her to shield her from the continuing onslaught.

“Don’t—” Rio winces, gripping her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot. I can still—”

“Shut up and focus on not passing out,” you snap, returning fire as the adrenaline courses through your veins. The gang is closing in, and panic gnaws at you. You need to get her out of here.

—

The minutes before the rest of the task force storm the warehouse feel like hours; Rio is bleeding heavily from her wound, and all colour has faded from her face. The remaining gang members are finally subdued in a chaotic flurry of shouting and gunfire.

You don’t move from your position until the scene is secure. When it’s finally clear, you turn to Rio, voice tight. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she mutters, her face pale but her signature smirk still intact. “But hey, you were pretty heroic back there. Almost makes me like you.”

“Save your breath,” you say, though relief is slowly replacing the panic that has gripped you earlier.

The on-site medic patches her up as best as they can; she was lucky the bullet went straight through, but her wound still needs close monitoring. You learn that a high-ranking gang member had slipped away at the start of all the chaos, but not before getting a good look at you and Rio. Since you know their network is likely everywhere, you decide transporting her to a hospital is too risky. You need a safehouse—a remote location where she can recover while you regroup.

—

The cabin is small, tucked away in a far-out forest. It’s equipped with basic supplies, offering the isolation you need to keep a low profile. You enter first, checking the place out. Then, you return to Rio, who is sitting on the edge of the bed, her arm in a sling, bandages covering her shoulder.

You linger by the door, watching her with an uncharacteristic softness you rarely show.

“If you’re here to scold me for getting shot, you can save it,” Rio says, her voice light but tired.

You step inside, setting a bottle of water down on the nightstand. “Actually, I’m here to make sure you don’t bleed out from being a stubborn idiot.”

“Touché,” she says, lips curving into a faint smile.

You hesitate, then take a seat beside her, the usual distance between you feeling smaller now. “You scared me back there,” you admit quietly, glancing down at her bandaged shoulder. “Don’t do that again.”

Her gaze softens as she looks at you. “I wasn’t planning on making it a habit. But you…” Her smirk returns, though it’s gentler this time. “You were incredible.”

Your cheeks heat, but you quickly brush it off with a shrug. “Someone had to keep you alive; the paperwork would’ve been horrendous otherwise.”

You turn towards her, carefully peeling off the bloody bandages on her shoulder. Your fingers brush against her skin as you work, and though Rio winces, she doesn’t utter a word of protest. The silence between you feels heavy but not uncomfortable.

As you apply the fresh bandages, you glance up, catching her watching you with an unreadable expression. Her lips quirk into a faint smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re too quiet,” you say softly, trying to distract her. “That’s not like you.”

“Trying not to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is quieter than usual.

Your hands linger for a moment after you finish, your gaze falling to the wound. “You need to be more careful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She tilts her head, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “And miss the chance to see you play nursemaid? No way.”

You let out a quiet laugh, but your hand remains against her shoulder, your thumb grazing the edge of the bandage. Silence stretches between you, comfortable yet charged with the unspoken things neither of you have said before.

Finally, Rio speaks again, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to risk yourself like that.”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Of course I did. I couldn’t just leave you.”

Her eyes hold yours, steady and searching, and for the first time, you don’t feel the need to look away. Her lips part, and she leans in, testing the waters with a soft kiss. It’s gentle, hesitant, but when you don’t pull away, she deepens the kiss.

You feel the weight of everything unravelling between you. The kiss is slow at first, exploring, but then it quickly becomes urgent and heated. Hands roam, pushing past the boundaries of what had been comfortable before. You feel her press into you, her warmth seeping into your skin, making you forget everything but the two of you.

When you pull away, breathless, her eyes are dark with something more than desire. “I want something with you,” she whispers, “something real.”

You kiss her again, this time with no hesitation, pulling her closer, as if you could somehow make up for all the time you’ve spent pretending not to like her. You take your time, making sure to be gentle with Rio’s injury, always mindful of her shoulder. As you kiss, your hands are careful, exploring her without rushing. You help her undress slowly, checking in with her each time, making sure she’s comfortable.

She groans softly when your lips trace her jaw, your fingers grazing across the tender spots where her bandages are. You can feel the heat between you building, but you stop to kiss her forehead, your breath shaky as you say, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Rio’s eyes soften, her fingers threading through your hair. “You never could,” she murmurs, pulling you closer.

You take your time, letting the moment stretch, the room filling with soft breaths and the quiet rustle of fabric. Every movement is deliberate, every touch mindful of the vulnerability hanging in the air.

Your hands move to her good shoulder, slipping under the strap of her tank top. The fabric slides away easily, baring more of her to your gaze. She doesn’t flinch, her smirk fading into something softer, more open.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.

Rio lets out a soft laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Flattery? You should’ve tried that six months ago.”

You grin, leaning in to kiss the edge of her smirk, letting your lips linger on her skin. “Shut up, Rio,” you whisper, your voice tinged with affection.

Her hand finds your waist, tugging you closer with surprising strength for someone who’d been shot hours ago. You go willingly, straddling her carefully as your lips reconnect, the kiss growing deeper. Heat coils in your chest, spreading outward as her touch becomes bolder, her fingers sliding under your shirt.

You break the kiss only long enough to pull your top over your head, tossing it aside before leaning back in. Her lips move to your neck, trailing kisses down to your collarbone, each one sending sparks through you. You gasp softly when her teeth graze your skin, her smirk returning against your neck.

“You like that?” She teases, her voice low and rough.

“Maybe,” you reply, breathless but playful. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Her answer is wordless, her good hand slipping down your back, finding every sensitive spot with ease. You shiver under her touch, your own hands exploring her, mapping the curve of her waist and the muscles of her back.

You’re careful not to put pressure on her injured shoulder, but Rio doesn’t seem to care about her pain. She pulls you closer, her body warm against yours, her breaths coming faster now.

You press your forehead to hers, your hands cupping her face. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you whisper, your voice thick with concern.

She shakes her head, her eyes blazing with determination. “The only thing too much is how long it took us to get here.”

Her words undo you, and you close the distance again, your kisses turning hungrier. You guide her gently back onto the bed, her good arm still wrapped around you as you settle over her. You continue your path down Rio’s body, lips pressing softly against every inch of skin you uncover. Your hands trail after your mouth, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her waist and the softness of her hips. Her body reacts to your touch, each shiver and soft gasp urging you on, drawing you deeper into the moment.

When your lips reach the hollow of her stomach, you pause, your hands resting on either side of her hips. You glance up at her, catching the way her chest rises and falls in anticipation, her hand gripping the sheets beneath her. The sight of her laid bare before you, trusting and vulnerable, sends a wave of warmth coursing through you. You press a kiss to her skin, just below her ribs, before continuing lower.

Your hands move carefully, sliding down her thighs, coaxing them apart with a gentle nudge. She complies without hesitation, her breath catching as you trail soft kisses along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. You take your time, teasing, your mouth lingering just long enough to leave her trembling, her good hand reaching down to tangle in your hair.

“Please,” she murmurs, her voice breathy and full of need, and it’s all the encouragement you need.

You shift lower, your hands resting lightly on her thighs, holding her steady as your lips finally find her. The first touch is tentative and exploratory, but the way her body responds—back arching, a soft moan slipping from her lips—spurs you on. Your tongue moves slowly at first, drawing circles, learning what makes her gasp and writhe beneath you. You use your fingers to spread her gently, your movements precise and deliberate, ensuring every sensation is heightened.

Her reactions guide you, every sigh and breathless plea telling you exactly what she needs. When you slip a finger inside her, she tenses for a moment before relaxing, her body welcoming your touch. You match the rhythm of your hand to the movements of your tongue, building a steady pace that has her gripping the sheets tightly, her head tipping back as her moans grow louder.

Her body begins to tremble, her breathing ragged as she nears the edge. You don’t falter, your movements becoming more focused, more insistent, until she finally cries out, her body arching sharply as she shatters beneath you. You hold her through it, your hands steady on her thighs, your mouth gentle as you help her ride out the waves of her climax.

When she finally comes down, her body relaxes, her limbs heavy as she lies back against the bed, chest heaving. You crawl back up to her, pressing soft kisses along her stomach, her collarbone, and finally her lips. She kisses you back with a lazy, satisfied fervour, her hand cupping your cheek as if to keep you close.

You rest beside her, your fingers resting gently on her chest. The silence between you feels easy now, filled with something unspoken but understood. Rio tilts her head to meet your eyes; her smirk softened into something sincere.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” she teases, her voice quiet but laced with affection.

You smirk back, brushing a stray hair from her face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Guess I’ll have to stick around to find out.”

Her words linger in the air, heavy with promise, and for once, you don’t feel the need to deflect. You lean in, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as her eyes drift closed, exhaustion finally claiming her.

—

You wake to the faint light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Rio is still beside you, her face softened in sleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. You watch her for a moment, a quiet smile tugging at your lips before you carefully slip out of bed, pulling the blanket up over her.

The cabin’s kitchen is small, almost comically so, but you’re determined to make breakfast. You rummage through the limited supplies, finding eggs and a questionable loaf of bread. Cracking the eggs into a pan, you curse softly when some of the shell slips in. The stove sputters, and the toast burns on one side before you can flip it.

“Do you always declare war on breakfast?” Rio’s voice startles you, and you whip around to see her leaning against the doorframe, her arm still in its sling.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be resting,” you scold, pointing the spatula at her.

She raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk. “I’d rather take my chances with gunfire than whatever you’re cooking.”

You roll your eyes, turning back to the stove. “I’m making you breakfast, so sit down and let me work my magic.”

Rio pads over to the table, still smirking. “If this kills me, make sure they write ‘death by toast’ on my gravestone.”

“Har, har,” you mutter, but you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. As you set the slightly overcooked meal in front of her, she looks up at you with an amused glint in her eyes.

“You’re really taking this whole ‘overprotective partner’ thing seriously, huh?” She teases, though her voice softens as she adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You sit across from her, leaning your chin on your hand. “Someone has to look out for you. You’re not exactly great at self-preservation.”

Rio smiles, a genuine warmth in her gaze that makes your chest ache. “I don’t mind it. Feels… nice. Safe.” Her fingers brush yours on the table, a small but deliberate gesture. “Guess I’m sticking around for more than just the breakfast disasters.”

Your laugh is soft, but your voice carries a tenderness you rarely let slip. “I’ll try not to burn the toast next time.”

“Don’t change too much,” Rio says, her smirk returning as she takes a bite of the slightly charred toast. “I kind of like you the way you are.”

Her words settle between you, light and teasing but laced with a sincerity that fills the room with warmth. For the first time, the future doesn’t feel like something to fear—it feels like something you might actually look forward to.

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ameenvie · 2 months ago

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Treacherous, Pt. 1 - Jim Halpert x fem!reader

masterlist | ao3 | fic recs

“Out of focus, eye to eye, 'Til the gravity's too much”

Part II

Word count: 2.7k Warnings: nothing in this chapter, nsfw in part 2! Tags: idiots in love, banter, messing around, pining Prompt/Summary: You started working at Dunder Mifflin around 6 months ago, and since then you developed a massive crush on one of your colleagues - Jim Halpert. Things happen. A/N: Will I ever stop titling my fics after songs? NEVER! I have had this in my WIPs for~ f o r e v e r ~ because chapter 2 is still not finished and I wanted to publish them together, but oh well! Maybe posting this will push me to finish that and get back into writing a bit. I have so many Jamie & Viktor WIPs as well, hopefully soon I'll finish those as well, I haven't written anything properly in a year I think so I am a bit rusty. Hope you like it! ❤❤

Your mood matched the Scranton weather in the past few weeks – gloomy. It was raining in the morning when you pulled into the parking lot before you started the day. You shut the engine down and sighed as you looked at the building.

You have been working for Dunder Mifflin for around six months now, since you moved here. Adjusting to the new city, new job and new coworkers wasn’t easy. Especially the new coworkers. As you were walking towards the entrance you accidentally stepped into a puddle which was deeper than it looked, and that caused your shoes to be soaking wet.

"Great, another fantastic day ahead,” you thought, before heading towards the building. When you stepped inside the office, you said hi to the new receptionist and you quickly walked towards the annex where your desk was located. A few people were already in, sitting at their desks – Dwight, of course always the first one to arrive, Meredith and Angela. And Jim.

“Hey you, good morning!” Hearing his voice made you freeze in your tracks, and you turned around to face him. Even if everything else in Scranton was rainy and gloomy, he was sunshine. He leaned back in his chair while he fiddled with a pen, his smile so bright it could light up a whole town. You felt a strange feeling in your chest.

“Hey, good morning.” You replied shortly and absent-mindedly, being lost in your thoughts.

“Are you alright? You seem preoccupied.” His tone switched to a bit more serious one, you could tell he really cared. He was sweet and you two had nice chats from time to time, but you couldn’t really consider what you two had a friendship. He was a nice colleague.

“Oh yeah, I just need to get these shoes dried up asap” you replied, looking down at your soaked feet. “Good thing I keep my granny slippers under my desk.” Jim chuckled as a response.

“You shouldn’t keep your things next to the electricity plugs. Especially polyester slippers, they are a fire hazard.” You heard Dwight say to you without even looking away from his computer screen, clearly fed up with the little small talk you and Jim had going on. You smiled and nodded at Jim as a signal that you’ll be on your way.

“Good luck,” he said, then turned back to his own work as well.

You plopped down into your chair and kicked off your soaked shoes. Luckily there was nobody in the annex yet, as the others usually arrived later than you. You put on your warm slippers and placed the shoes next to the heater. A heavy sigh escaped your lungs as you leaned on your elbows and buried your face into your palms. The strange feeling in your chest started to ease as you focused your mind back on work instead of your coworker.

As the time passed your other colleagues started to arrive and occupy their desks, as chatter filled the air, distracting you from your duties. You decided it was time to get another cup of coffee before you continued. It didn’t take long for Ryan and Kelly to get on your nerves with their constant fighting, but at least you didn’t have to pay for cable if you wanted to watch some crappy daytime drama.

You stepped into the small kitchen smiling about your own little joke when you noticed him. He also smiled when he looked at you.

“Someone’s in a good mood” he said, gesturing towards you with his own coffee mug in his hand.

“I’m just good at entertaining myself it seems.” You stepped closer to him to get a mug out from the cupboard, which was right next to him. He didn’t move when you opened it and stretched your arm to get your favourite mug from the shelf, the move making your shirt untucked and the skin at your hips exposed a little.

“I would say you are pretty entertaining in general. I’m glad you are feeling better.” You poured yourself a cup of coffee while he was slowly drinking his own. He didn’t seem like he was in a rush.

“You can say that, yes” you replied, your voice getting a little shaky at the end of the sentence when you felt the strange feeling in your chest again. A tingling sensation, starting in your chest then spreading through your veins when he stood so close next to you. “I’m a bit nervous about the quarter deadlines.”

“You are?” he asked with surprise in his voice.

“Of course, I still haven’t reached my targets in sales, and I need to by the end of the week. I also have lots of administration that I still need to do, and I’m just not good at this…” Your words came out of your mouth very quickly, and you felt yourself starting to ramble so to avoid that you quickly took a sip out of your coffee. It tasted horrible.

“Hey” he said in the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard as he put his hand on your forearm. It felt like your brain glitched for a second when his skin touched yours, and even though it was an innocent gesture, you felt the tingling sensation turn into straight up fire in your veins. Your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest, and you weren’t sure that he didn’t notice that. “You’ll do amazing, I know. And if you need anything from me, don’t be afraid to ask. I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you” you said, your voice just a little lower than you wanted it to be. You scratched your throat before you spoke again. “I better get back to work. Complaining here won’t sell that paper.” He chuckled in response, and you took your mug to your table and sat down. You rubbed your eyes and sighed before looking up at your screen. It took you a few minutes to calm your nerves, then you delved back to work.

Probably fifteen minutes after you’ve sat down and the next distraction already arrived. Kelly.

“Soooo…” she started her sentence, sitting on the chair next to you, her eyebrows raised.

“So what?” You asked with genuine curiosity, as you had no idea what she wanted. Have you not sent your customer evaluations yet?

“What is going on with you?”

“With me? Um… nothing?” You cocked your brow at her while searching her face.

“Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” She was basically whisper-shouting at you. And you genuinely had no idea what she meant.

“I’m sorry Kelly, I really have a lot of work that I have to finish, so if you don’t mind-” you started, but she interrupted you.

“Are you and Jim together?” The sudden question surprised you so much that you choked on your own spit. “Don’t be so dramatic, I see through you.”

“Why would you even think that? No, we are not together!” You looked around yourself before speaking, and lowering your voice to make sure no one else could hear what you were discussing. Kelly was not so discreet.

“Don’t play dumb on me, I saw you two in the kitchen earlier having a little moment!”

“A moment? No, no we were just talking about work” you replied and shook your head at her.

“With his hands on your arm? Yeah right” she scoffed and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Don’t be silly, that’s just a thing he does. He does that all the time.”

“Yeah, with you!” She snapped back and gave you a knowing look. You furrowed your eyebrows at her in confusion. “He never touched my arm. Or Meredith’s. Or anyone’s other than you.”

“You’re making this up.”

“Why would I?” She scoffed, but you gave her a knowing look and she rolled her eyes. “Okay of course I would, but not this time! I’m just saying you can’t fool me!”

“Yeah, you’re onto me Kelly. Now please, I need to get a lot of work done if I don’t want to get fired. How would I continue my top-secret office romance then?” You asked sarcastically and waved with your hands.

“Okay-okay, no need to be mean about it!” She stood up from the chair and waltzed back to her desk, where she could delve into her own office romance.

What she said didn’t leave your mind though. Was that true? You wouldn’t put it past her to stir up some gossip and drama just for entertainment. But would she really lie to you like that? What would she gain from it? And if she didn’t lie, what did that mean? Somehow you couldn’t decide if you’d prefer her lying or telling the truth.

Even if you were the only one Jim touched like that, that didn’t mean anything. It’s not like you wanted him to touch you like that. At least it was easier to convince yourself of that. This whole thing didn’t make any sense. You came to the conclusion that Kelly was just trying to get a reaction out of you with her story and there’s nothing more to it.

You delved back into work to try to keep your mind off this, you had enough stuff to worry about already. You spent the first half of the afternoon calling clients and trying to get new deals from the old leads you got from your predecessor – lots of them were completely useless. Suddenly you saw the others stand up and head towards the door.

“Aren’t you coming?” You heard Kelly’s voice. “Michael expects everyone in the meeting room.”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a second!” You quickly turned back to your computer and typed in a few things about your last deal before you forgot, then headed after the others. When you looked inside the room you saw most people already in there, Jim included. He waved at you from the last row and gestured at the empty seat next to himself. Your heart fluttered and you made your way over to him.

“Thanks, best seat in the house” you said, smiling.

“Absolutely. maybe this way we can get away without getting into a super awkward Michael Scott skit” he said while he crossed his arms and shot you a mischievous smile.

“Maybe we’ll be safe from that today, who knows. Have faith, Halpert!”

“I think you might be too optimistic on this one! How about a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“I bet that we won’t get away without an awkward Michael situation.”

“I feel like this is a very risky bet on my part, but oh well. What does the winner get?”

“The loser pays for the others lunch tomorrow.” He answered, smiling.

“Deal” you said and shook his hand. In that second Michael appeared in the meeting room and started talking about the quarter ending soon, and sales. The importance of the relationship with the clients.

Jim was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, swinging his legs slightly. Ever so slightly that his thigh would touch yours every time he did it. Your heart was beating so loud it was all you could hear. This is stupid. Jim’s chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts.

“So, what do you say? How about a little improv? Who wants to sell me some paper?” Michael asked, and of course nobody answered. Everyone was either rolling their eyes or tried to look the other way so they don’t get picked. You tried to make yourself as small as you could so he wouldn’t pick you.

That’s when you felt the touch of a warm hand on your wrist, and it immediately flew to the air. You shot a horrified look at Jim, who was raising your hand for you.

“Ah, perfect, perfect!” You heard the voice coming from the front of the room, and you mouthed an “I’ll kill you!” at Jim. He just chuckled at you.

“You’ll do great!” He whispered and let go of your hand. You were so baffled you couldn’t even answer or object to being selected. Of course, let’s mess with the new staff. That’s fine.

You walked and stood next to Michael who was giggling like a little kid, being very excited about his improv exercise. As every improv with him, this ended up having a secret agent scene involved, where he would save you from an unknown threat, and that’s why he was disguised as a customer wanting to buy paper. You actually couldn’t be mad at him, because his joy was contagious. However, you were kind of mad at Jim.

You plopped down onto your seat next to him, crossing your arms, not looking his way. He scooched closer to you, his thigh now completely pressed against yours. His touch and closeness made you dizzy. Then he leaned towards you, but you didn’t turn towards him.

“I won” he whispered into your ear, and you felt a chill run down your spine as his breath warmed your skin. You felt heat rise in your body, and you started to feel lightheaded from him being so close to you. You immediately turned your head towards him. He was grinning like a child.

“No, you cheated!”

“Did I? I don’t know about that.”

“Yes, you did. I thought more of you, Halpert. Just text me what you want to eat tomorrow” you said and got up as the meeting ended, and you bolted towards the restroom, locking yourself in a stall.

You let out a shaky breath and you buried your face into your hands. This is nothing. It’s nothing. Damn it, Kelly. Why did she have to say those things? You felt like a schoolgirl with your silly little crush on your coworker, but all these things didn’t leave your mind. But even if it was true, even if Jim liked you, what then? Would you start dating? Would you just continue this office flirting forever? Would you just eventually fuck after an office party and completely forget it the next day?

That thought poisoned your mind with images that you didn’t want to think about, especially not in your workplace’s bathroom. But you couldn’t help it, and you felt the heat rise in your body again.

“Fucking hell” you breathed, shaking your head as if you could just shake those thoughts out. You stood up and left the restroom, heading straight back to your desk, not looking anywhere. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, you just wanted to finish working, go home, where you could work these frustrations out in peace. Yes, that seemed like a good plan. Somewhat good.

The time went by excruciatingly slowly. And it didn’t help that you couldn’t focus on your work because your head was full of thoughts about him. And you couldn’t shake them off. You had to finish your report by tomorrow morning at the latest, so your plan of quickly finishing the job and going home failed spectacularly. People had already started to leave the office as their day ended.

You were somewhat happy that you could work without Kelly and Ryan bothering you all the time, but you definitely were not happy about the thought of you having to be there for who knows how long. You hated overtime, but you couldn’t afford not to finish these reports. You rubbed your eyes and looked back at the screen of your monitor, at the names, addresses, numbers. It all felt so meaningless.

After about an hour of numbers, formulas and spreadsheets, you were done with the first half. You definitely needed to stretch your legs, so you decided to quickly print this before finishing the rest. You stood up from your chair, stretched your back a little and walked to your printer. You felt like the universe was taunting you when you saw the big “ERROR” message on the screen. You threw your head back and let out a dramatic groan before you made your way to the printer in the front of the office.

And then you felt like the universe was playing some kind of a joke on you when you saw Jim sitting at his desk.

Read Part II here.

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert fanfic #jim halpert imagine #jim x reader #jim halpert fluff #jim halpert smut

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rosenclaws · 11 days ago

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HIII you don’t know how happy i am to have stumbled on your treasure chest of an account 😭 the way you portray characters is exactly how i’ve imagined them!!! especially leopold ♥️ i’m so glad there’s an active writer for him who writes so beautifully!!

i was hoping to request a fluff fic for leopold where reader teaches kids (5-7 yrs old) and leo visits reader at their workplace. the kids do know of readers few/past boyfriends and they weren’t too fond of any of them, but they really really love leo 🫂 reader does like leo but is unaware the feelings are mutual, so the kids help leo out in trying to win their heart ♥️ (and maybe work in the element of daisies? they’re reader’s/my fave flower lolol)

she/her pronouns are good but you can also do gn! thank ü sm ⭐️ hope you’re having a great day!!!

a/n: Truth be told I've been neglecting Leopold. I've written so much Logan and I love Logan but Leopold is who truly captured my heart. I'm a little rusty but I hope you like it!! Also DAMN HES SO HANDSOME ITS CRIMINAL

Of all the days to be running late today was possibly the worst. You completely forgot about a very important meeting and you could not be late for it. You were scrambling around your apartment when someone knocks at the door.

Not the time.

As you grab your bag you throw open the door to see Leopold standing there. A smile on his face as he greets you good morning. Though he quickly notices your rushed and panicked face.

“Are you ready for coffee?”

“Hi Leo, I’m so sorry I forgot I have this meeting and I’m already late and-“ Leopold places his hands on your arms, getting you to stop moving. You feel a warmth spread through your body from his touch.

“It’s alright darling, we can go another time.” He flashes that perfect smile and for a second you hesitate to move. But you really can’t be late.

“Thank you, you can hang out here if you want. Bye Leo.” You rush past him and he just smiles. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re flustered like that.

Truth be told Leopold doesn’t like coffee. He finds it bitter and gross and nothing compared to the wonders of tea. But when he met you and you had asked him to coffee. He just couldn’t say no.

You were one of Kate’s friends from college and ever since that day he had become entranced by you. So he sat through sipping coffee if it meant he got to speak to you. He notices a bag sitting on your counter. Furrowing his brows he takes it and looks inside. It’s your lunch. He frowns when he sees the processed food and quite unhealthy snacks inside. He knows you’re busy but he’s talked to you about this. You’re a very busy women and he worries about your habits and health. He tosses the bag in the fridge and heads out. Determined to make sure you get your lunch.

”Alright class! Finish up your drawings so we can have story time!” You announce to your students who were very deep into their artworks. There was paint all over your smock and glitter everywhere. Your stomach growls and you groan as you sit down at your desk. You forgot your lunch this morning and you were absolutely starving.

“Miss! I’m finished!” Penny, one of your students, calls. She holds up her artwork with a big toothy grin.

“Beautiful Pen!” You get up and bend down near her desk.

“Why don’t you sign it and we can put it in the back to let it dry.” She nods and messily writes her name in the corner.

There's a loud knock at the door and suddenly one of the admin appears in the doorway. You walk over and see a smirk on her face.

“You have a visitor, a very handsome one.” She whispers that last part as you look over her shoulder and see Leopold.

She leaves and Leopold smiles, you lead him into your class which catches the attention of all your students. He probably looked a little odd all dressed up in his old clothing.

“Leo? What are you doing here?”

“You forgot your lunch.” He hands you a few containers. This was not the lunch you had packed yourself.

“I’ve warned you of the dangers of processed food,” He says with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I just don’t have a lot of time.” You sigh.

“I am aware, so I made you lunch.” Your heart flutters as you look inside. All the food looks amazing, especially the cookies he knows you love.

"Thank you Leo."

"I've noticed more often than not you don't prepare yourself adequate food," You look down, a little embarrassed at being called out.

"So, I decided I'm going to start making you lunch."

"Oh no you don't have to do that-" You start but he cuts you off. A very determined look on his face.

"I insist, please." The very idea makes your heart burst but its too kind of an offer. But its a really good one.

"Okay fine. But I buy the groceries and only until I can start making them for myself again." He smiles and accepts your conditions.

"I must go, but I will see you tomorrow." He bows his head and leaves your classroom.

He throws you a wink right before he leaves and your heart skips. You feel a tug at your pants and you look down to see one of your students Avery.

"Miss, is he a real prince?" She looks up at him with wide eyes. Avery had been in her princess mood and you can't blame her for thinking Leopold had popped right out of a storybook.

"Uh, no sweetie. He's just a friend of mine."

"But he looks just like a prince! If you marry him you could be a princess and we'd have a princess teacher!" She exclaims.

The class starts to agree with her and you try and calm them down. Thankfully their attention shifts when you pull out a book for story time. You were just thankful they forgot about it, or you thought they had.

Visits from Leopold had become a class staple. He'd show up every day to bring you lunch. When you asked why he didn't just give it to you in the morning he told you that this was much more eventful. The kids became obsessed with him and Leopold fed into their curiosity and imagination with ease.

Eventually you just told the school he was a volunteer so he could stick around more. He became your classes favorite story teller. At first he'd read a book or two but he grew bored of those stories and would retell his favorite stories and plays from his childhood, getting the children to act them out with him. He some how got a room of 6 year old's to give him their undivided attention. That isn't and easy feat.

"Leopold! Can you read this one?" Avery hands him one of her fairytale books.

He's sitting on the ground with the kids all around him. His previous prince like clothing was gone and instead he was dressed more modern. You had to admit you missed the flashy and fancy clothes.

Not that he didn't look good in modern clothing, he looks good in everything. You had a feeling though that Avery and the rest of the class had something up their sleeves. They were far too giggly and had mischievous looks on their faces.

"Of course love. A love story? I do find myself reading these from time to time." As he starts the story he offers someone to come play the prince but no one budges.

"We want you to play him!" Avery says with a giggle. Leopold raises an eyebrow but agrees.

"Alright, now the prince needs to have a princess doesn't he?"

"Miss should be the princess!" One of your other students pipes up.

"Me? I don't know guys I'm not really the best actress." You say but they don't care.

You're half dragged out of your chair and to the front of the room. You sit next to Leo and flash him an apologetic smile. From out of nowhere two kids bring the two of you flower crowns. They must have made them at recesses. It's a little small and Leopold's barely fits on his head but it was cute.

"You know instead of a story we should have a wedding!" Penny pipes up.

"A Wedding? Guys where is this coming from?" You say with a laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

"My mommy said a wedding is what two people who really like each other have!" The kids murmur in agreement and you sigh.

"It's alright darling, why not entertain them for today?" Leopold whispers in your ear.

He seems more than okay with being thrust into a kid planned fake wedding. It was quite amusing watching your students try and figure out what they were supposed to do.

They had cut up some paper and used them as flower petals, which they were going to have to clean up before lunch you noted. It was adorable listening to them talk though, as you sat next to Leo you found yourself unable to hold back your smiles.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Your eyes widen as you shake your head.

"Okay that's enough torturing our friend, its clean up time now." You say, putting a stop before things could go too far.

Not that you didn't want to kiss Leopold, but you didn't want him to feel forced to kiss you because your students put on a fake wedding.

"Awww," A chorus of kids groaned as you sent them back to the desk. Though once the lunch bell rings they all seem to forget their sadness.

"Sorry for all of that, I don't know what got into them." You say as you sit at your desk. Leopold had pulled up a chair right next to you. Your lunch being shared between the two of you.

"It's alright, I enjoyed the wedding." He hums as he picks a daisy from his hair. He twirls it around in his fingers before handing it to you.

"For you, my beautiful bride." You bite your lip as you take the flower from his hand, your skin brushing up against each other.

"Thank you my husband." You stick it behind your ear. Leopold stares lovingly into your eyes and you feel yourself sink under his gaze. It's just so intense, his pretty hazel eyes just make you swoon.

"You know, I would not have been upset if we kissed, for the integrity of the story." He whispers, his hand coming to cup your chin.

"Yeah?" You ask breathlessly as the space between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller.

Could this really be happening? Oh god you hope it was. Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you. His hand is gentle as his kiss deepens. His lips are soft and he tastes like, like everything fucking perfect.

"I've been trying to court you for some time my love." Leopold confesses as you pull apart.

"Normally I would have given you a letter but, Charlie had told me the sentiment was outdated." You giggle at the thought of a handwritten letter from him declaring his love for you, a very romantic idea you must admit.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice. If I had known, we could have done this a lot sooner."

"That's alright darling, because now we have all the time in the world." Well all the time until 12:30 when the bell rang. For now though, you had him all to yourself.

#leopold mountbatten #hugh jackman x reader #leopold mountbatten x reader #kate and leopold #leopold mountbatten fluff

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willieverseetheland · 1 month ago

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hellooo i love your writing, and im hoping reqs are open and that im not annoying you too much!!, but could you write dexter x a reader whos introverted and a bit awkward like him? Go crazy and do whatever prompt you'd find the cutest or that you'd like the best <3!!

Ofccc! This is pretty open-ended so I hope I did your ask justice!

“Could I just get an iced caramel latte, two shots of espresso please!” You ask the barista

The best thing about Miami were the food trucks. You loved being able to stop and get a coffee or a sandwich on your way to work. And of course, the weather. Coming from the Midwest; the weather in Florida was a million times better.

As you were waiting in line you saw a ginger man approach the window. Immediately you thought about how attractive he was. Brown eyes, shaggy hair, nice build.

“Medium coffee to-go. Black.”

He stood beside you as you both waited for your drinks.

You kept glancing over at him, hoping he would start up a conversation. You couldn’t help it, you found him incredibly attractive. As you try to sneak another glance, his eyes catch yours. You quickly turn away, extremely embarrassed. You feel heat creep up your neck and move to your cheeks. Your face flushes a bright red.

‘Damnit!’ You think to yourself

You don’t know whether you’re just embarrassed or if he’s actually looking at you, but you can feel eyes burning into the back of your skull. ‘God! You’re almost thirty and you can’t muster up the courage to say hi?’ You think to yourself.

But then you’re pulled out of your thoughts by the barista calling out your order.

As you reach to grab your drink you feel an arm brush up against yours. You turn to look and it’s him. With his coffee in hand he retracts his arm and opens his mouth to speak. But just as he’s about to apologize, the lid pops off of your latte as you jerk your arm back and it splashes on his white button-down shirt. You gasp in horror at what had just happened.

Instinctively you grab a handful of napkins and begin wiping his shirt, frantically apologizing.

“Oh my god I am so so sorry” you exclaim.

He chuckles slightly

“It’s okay, accidents happen!” He smiles

His smile is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, you think. You can’t help but stare a little too long into his eyes.

“How about I buy you a new one?”

“Goodness no! It was totally my fault!” Your voice slightly shaky

“No it’s okay! I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

“That’s very sweet of you but I would feel horrible” your cheeks begin to feel warm again

“O-okay, well how about I take you out for coffee sometime?” He asks, his voice sounding slightly nervous and his eyes almost pleading.

“Yes! That sounds great!” You blurt out

You pull out a piece of paper and a pen from your purse and write down your number.

He takes the paper and smiles. As he starts to walk away you realize you never even caught his name.

“Hey, it’s y/n by the way” you smile, face still red

“Dexter Morgan” he smiles in return and turns to walk away.

You think about him the entire walk to work.

Yall I’m a little rusty so I hope this turned out okay.

#dexter #dexter morgan #fanfic writing #fanfiction #dexter morgan x reader #dexter morgan fanfiction

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crowandmousewritingco · 4 months ago

Text

If You're Reading This

Pairing: Joel Miller x nb!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: PG-13, there's no spice. It's all angst bay-beeeeeee

Summary: You met Joel while out on a 'hunting run', you startle him and in return he almost shoots you. After everything settles the two of you get to talking and decide to stay in contact one of the only ways, via letters. Over the time writing each other, you grow feelings for him, and learn things about yourself that you don't know how he'll handle. Telling him, he goes silent, but you refuse to give up hope. Will your hope be enough to keep you going?

Author: Mod Crow (Got a new job so life has been ahhhhh)

Author's Note: The reader says their age. This was for @burntheedges' Roll-A-Trope! I was very back and forth on how I wanted this to play out, in the end I'm pretty happy with it.

Masterlist

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, and mentions of raiders and guns.

Dear Joel,

Thanks for not shooting me today, I wasn’t even in my best attire to die. I’m kidding. Not about the not shooting me thing.

It was nice really meeting someone who didn’t want to kill me or rob me. It was also nice having the help dragging a deer all the way back to this place. I only hope my butchering and fileting skills aren’t getting rusty. But hey, if they are, you said something about you showing me “the way it’s done in the big beauty of Texas” or however you worded it. I know you aren’t here, but I need you to know that I’m currently laughing. I made myself laugh. Gods, I’m losing it aren’t I?

Anyways, I should probably start cooking myself something to eat before the sun goes down. If you ever head this way and stop at this place, you should leave me a little letter or something. Obviously, I left this one for you in an obvious spot -and that’s what you should do as well- then after that we can start putting them in more well-hidden places, we can’t have someone finding them before we have a chance to. But that’s for the next letter.

-Y.F.

P.S. Y.F. means your favorite, I know what I am, you don’t have to tell me.

Hey Smartass,

Now that I like the sound of. Oh, and drop the formality, I’m not your pen pal or some shit like that. Ellie wanted me to tell you that “if you try to replace her as my favorite, she will stab you”. I don’t pick favorites. Just so you know. I haven’t had a favorite person in a while now…

God let’s stop talking about the sad shit anymore. I saw a baby squirrel on the porch as I was walking up. I thought maybe he had lost his mama or daddy; I’m thinking that’s what he also thought because when one of his -what I can only assume- parents came back they had scared that poor little thing so bad that he damn near jumped three feet high. I was kind of wishing you could have seen it, I remember you telling me how much you loved nature and all that stuff. Don’t read into that.

Anyways, I don’t know what it’s like heading up from the southwest, but Ellie and I ran into more raiders than we normally do. I don’t know why there’s more, but I’m not liking how things are looking.

I left you some ammo and rations hidden in the fireplace. Ellie left you something, she wouldn’t tell me, besides that it was hidden in the bathroom. That’s all she told me, so I’m guessing that means good luck.

-Joel

I’m not calling you my favorite, I don’t have a favorite between you two nuisances

Dear party-pooper,

Yes, that’s what I’m calling you from now on, you fucking party-pooper. ANYWAYS, I found your stash, thanks. The ammo was a life saver…literally…the rations could have at least been a good one. You left me some beef jerky (the only good thing in that damn ration), some stale ass cracker, and some unidentifiable fruit-like substance.

The raiders though, they’ve actually been better. Based on my guess, I think they might have migrated up your way. If you think it’s getting too bad for a bit, I get that, don’t feel pressured to write me back whenever you’re here next.

On a lighter note, Ellie hid a book that she’d think I’d like. So far, her shot in the dark has struck bull’s-eye. Tell her I said thank you. As for where she hid it -you’re gonna love this- she pulled the medicine cabinet off the upstairs bathroom’s wall, knocked out a small bit of drywall, and hid it in the wall before replacing the cabinet. It took me far longer than it should have, but who the fuck would look behind the cabinet on the wall? The cabinet, mind you, looked like it had never been pulled off the wall. Fuck, I really gotta give her credit for how creative she is with hiding places. You should take notes. Your hiding spots in the past have been…kinda in plain sight. Love you old man, but you suck at hiding. Expect, I give you credit to this last drop, up the chimney fluke. Maybe you still have it in you after all, old man.

Anyways…I left some things for you in the door of the fridge. It’s not much this time, things have been rough at this place. We let in this new couple, and they’ve been super suspicious. The first night they were here, the woman -Gabrielle- was found snooping around in the owner of the farm’s wife’s dresser. Gabrielle couldn’t give us a straight answer as to why she was snooping. That wasn’t even the weirdest bit, that same night the man -Kenneth- was snooping around in ALL of our shit. I woke up at gods only know, probably 3 or 4 in the morning. I didn’t think he got any of shit. I didn’t look though, and that’s on me. He got away with most of the things I was going to give you, what he didn’t take is hidden for you. I left Ellie some magazines I found about alternative bands from before the pandemic. I don’t even know if she knows what alternative music is, gods you probably don’t know what alternative music is. I’ll explain that to you in person one of these days.

-Your favorite nuisance

You fucking child,

You and Ellie act like the exact same person sometimes I swear. Sometimes I feel like it’s just Ellie leaving me these notes.

Forget all that, you said that the ammo I stashed for you came in handy? What happened? Are you okay? Were you injured? What happened to the other guy? That’s something I would have paid to see. If half of what the shit you’ve said in the past were true, then you’re a pretty good aim.

What you left me enough, the granola was honestly a god sent. You have no idea how boring coffee was getting. Ellie also said -and I quote- “Hell yeah these bitches look sick.” I have no idea where she’s heard that, because it sure as hell wasn’t me.

Backtracking -kind of- I know we’ve talked raiders, how have those fucking clickers been? I think because of that “migration” or whatever the hell you called it, they’ve been out there killing those fuckers while they snuck through the shadows. Our raider problem went up, but the clicker problem. It’s been too quiet recently. But following that thought, your raider problem went down, so that means your clicker problem got worse. Didn’t it? Fuck… You’re a pain in my ass, but I like this banter I get to have. You should come with Ellie and I back to our little place. It isn’t much, but Ellie’s been complaining that where we are isn’t “comfortable”. I swear she says what she says just to test my patience. But, yeah, Ellie would love it. She’d never shut up and it wouldn’t be me for once. Just give us the when and we’ll meet you here.

-Joel M.

Hey grumpy,

I think I like this nickname the best so far. I do swear one thing to you grumps, I am 100% NOT Ellie. I’m your…something. I’ve been kinda held up in my room at the farm this past week. I’ve been thinking about some things after the raiders. That’s not something I lied about; I am a pretty good shot. So was the leader of the little gang. He was 100% aiming for my head, I’m only alive because I got lucky. He drew his gun quicker than I did, he aimed quicker than I could, and he pulled that fucking trigger before I could…His gun jammed. It took me a minute to even register that I was still alive. When I realized though, gods, was I ready. Almost dying makes you really think about how you want to be remembered by people.

I don’t even know if what I’m thinking would make sense to you. Ellie might, but all she’s ever known is…well whatever it is she grew up knowing. These are things that I haven’t thought about since…fuck, well before the outbreak. Bare with me as I try to figure out to explain this in writing that isn’t going to be a fucking novel.

Actually, before I do that, I want to get this out there first. if you aren’t sure you want to be a part of this emotional blah, I got lucky. Ken left his bag open in Gabrielle’s room right next to her bag in her room! What’s even better? Neither of them were anywhere near the bags, Gabrielle was helping with dinner and Ken was helping with fence repair. I left you just under half of the ammo they had -hey, gotta keep myself safe- and Ken’s utility hatchet like thing (you’ll see what I mean). I also snatched you some more granola. I have no idea how this old couple is doing it, but they have so many oats. They also have a fucking bee house! You know what that means? Fresh honey! And just for you grumps, I snatched a mason jar for the two of you. Honey’s also good for a sore throat. I know it’s getting cold out there. I’ve actually been knitting (I know, I must be lying about my age. I’m not, I swear. I learned how to knit because of my grandma. When I was probably six or seven, I made a huge deal out of wanting to learn to do what my grandma was doing. So, she taught me. After the outbreak, I needed something to do with my hands, otherwise things…things would be incredibly different right now. Gods, sorry about the ramble.) some scarves for the two of you. You have no idea how much yarn got left behind in the stores. If after you read this, you decide you still want me to go with you I will. We can do it the weekend after next. Next week is my birthday and Marieann and George (the old couple of the farm) told me that it was “my day to relax and rest up after the hard year.” Who am I to go against what a sweet old lady tells me to do? That being said, I don’t like not knowing what’s going on and how the two of you are doing. At this point, what’s even the point of keeping track of birthdays anymore? Like, “Yay I lived another horrid year on this dying hunk of space rock, can’t wait to suffer through another one! Anyways, I'm sneaking out past curfew to leave you a note if the plan has changed. Anywho…I found more magazines for Ellie. I’ve hid them in the pantry. She’s smart. Your is hidden in the basement behind that dresser, it’s the same idea as what the kid did in the upstairs bathroom cabinet.

Back to the emotional blah…If anything I write doesn’t make sense, you can try asking Ellie. She may know. Gods, I thought it would be easier to write this out, not having to see your weathered (ignore that) expression change. To what? I don’t know. Anything? Fuck it…Joel when we meet, I thought I had figured myself out. When I met you, I was sure I was a woman. I don’t think that I am…I’m not a man either though. I’m neither? I don’t know how to explain this. Okay, so I was she/her when we met, you were -and still are- he/him. Well, if I’m neither of them I have to have a way to refer to myself, right? I do, instead of she or he, I’m…them. Or they! Well, it’s more like both, they/them. Gods I’m shaking so bad right now haha, I’m just really scared of losing you two…You two have been the first good thing since this shitstorm started. I know I can’t make you write me back, but I can ask you to at least leave me something saying you’ll either come back and write a new note or some kind of…I don’t know sign? That doesn’t feel like the right word, but note isn’t the word I want to use…I don’t know Joel, just please leave something. I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll keep coming back till I get another note from you. Even if that means I die doing this because you chose to leave, and I wouldn’t hate you for it.

That’s all I’ve to say. I really do…like you Joel, when thinking, remember I am the person from all of those letters and the few times we met.

-Your Raven no Magpie also no Crow now that’s one I like

Joel,

Hey, I came back this weekend, I’m 26 now! Yay! I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified right now. The clickers are getting worse around the farm, they aren’t too bad on the way here yet, but I know they will be.

I checked to see if you took the stuff, and you did. I saw that Ellie left me a comic book and a band shirt from one of those mags I gave her. I can’t believe she was able to find one, let alone one in my size. I also saw that you left me some ammo and another ration. I know it isn’t much, but it’s something. It gives me hope, and that’s all most of us have nowadays. Along with that hope, I also hope that you'll come back again. If that’s the case, I’ve left you both some things, same places as last.

Joel, for you, more granola (enough for the both of you), a scarf for you, some peach preserves (Marieann opened up some preserves she had made to be opened about this time), and some bread I baked. I warn the bread isn’t pretty, but with the chill, it should last a bit longer.

For Ellie, her scarf, a couple of mangas I found (this will be fun to hear how that goes), a Swiss army knife I found on a dead raider (I know it’s gruesome, but it’s the world we live in now), and a slightly used deck of cards. I felt like she could find a way to entertain herself why you do whatever it is you do when you want to be alone.

-Your hope filled Crow

Hey again,

You took the things again, and you left some more for me. It’s still something. No matter how little. It just hit me, these letters are going to be getting shorter and shorter until I hear from you huh?

Should I even keep writing to you? Maybe don’t answer that. Or do. You take all the time you need. I’m leaving you guys some more things, the same place as before.

-Your Crow

Hey,

I’m sorry about how long it took, I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand at all, and it freaked me out a bit. I asked Ellie if she they understood it and they did. They also came to realize that about themselves too. No, I don't fully understand it, but I’m willing to learn.

Thanks for the scarves, they’ve really helped with the chill at night. Ellie was so intrigued by that one that I’m guessing was the manga. I have no idea if they figured it out, but they’re having a blast trying.

The clickers have been a bit more active around us too. I wonder where they’re all coming from though.

Ellie and I are ready to head out, just tell us when. We’ve gathered all we could, the rest of the stuff we’re leaving is replaceable. Thanks to your scarf we’ve managed to carry a bit more stuff, not the way you meant for them to be used but they’re multifaceted.

I don’t know if Ellie has anything to leave, but I’m assuming it’s in the bathroom. I don’t have much to leave, I found some yarn. I just happened upon it when looting some cars on the main road. I also found a broken bow. I don’t know if you can fix it, but maybe that old man, George(?) could fix it, or maybe someone else in the house. They’re in the basement, it’s the only place they’d fit.

I want to help you keep that hope alive. I have one of my own, I hope we can get somewhere warm and safe together.

Joel, with…

Holy fuck,

Joel, you came back?! Thank you fuck…thank you. If you could see me, I am a mess right now. Gods you’d get a kick.

I wasn’t able to fix the bow, but George was! I guess he used to bow hunt back in the day. He said it may take him a bit; he has to dig out his tools. I’ll leave a letter the night before with an update. If you find a letter then there’s kink in the plans, if you don’t find a letter then it’s because I was there waiting, or I died. Or some other third thing, I like being dramatic sometimes.

With this plan may be happening, I’m not leaving much. This time it’s a kindle of firewood. Dry firewood hidden in the sugar in a mason jar. I remember you saying you drank coffee, and you were growing tired of the taste. So have some sugar, make it sweeter. Maybe add honey too.

-Your Crow

Dear Joel,

I know you hate the formality of these kinds of letters, but for once, just let it be. See the thing is I’m writing this as a “worst case scenario” kinda thing… I started writing about an hour ago for me, gods only know how long it’s been for you. To put in perspective the time difference, I’m writing this the same day I read your letter you had left, the letter about the plans about me coming with the two of you to find somewhere else.

I don’t know what has happened to me to force my hand in leaving this letter, but if I had to take a shot in the dark, I’ve probably been shot by other survivors. I’ve been bitten. If I remember, I’ll try to come back and write what really happened. Anyways, I know we had a plan, I also know that you’re a strong man. You don’t need me; I would have just slowed you down. So now you have to promise me you’ll keep that kid safe. Oh, and if you happen to find yourself in Omaha -I know we’re several hundred miles away, but you never know- stop by 1004 Cicada drive. It’s where I was living when all of the shit hit the fan. Now, I won’t be there to give you the tour, so you better not go tracking mud or anything inside.

Look, there are some things in that house that I think could be beneficial to you, I know you’ll find what you need. I have some things out in the garage, there’s some other things in the attic, and then there’s some things down in the basement’s crawl space. Now, it’s going to be dusty and dirty down there, but back before all of this, it was a beautiful basement. I had just finished painting it that beautiful blue color that has since been destroyed by some fucking raiders. Fuck, look at me gushing over my old basement. I must really sound like some weird fucker, huh?

Anyways, if I’m dead and that’s why you’re reading this, I just wanted to tell you some things…Where do I even start? I guess I’ll start light, that’s what you do right? I don’t know why I keep asking questions, I don’t know your answers to them. Gods do I wish I did know your answers, writing this with the unknown has been killing me. If you could see me right now, you’d have a pretty good laugh, I’m shaking like the last fall leaf in a big dying tree in the middle of a tornado. Fuck, I’m rambling…Look I’m really happy we ran into each other when we did, that day you almost shot me in the forest -behind this decrepit house- I lied to you. You asked me why I was out there, I told you I was looking for some animals to catch. I wasn’t…I couldn’t take any more of this bullshit. So, I was gonna beat the zombies to my death, and I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of bringing me back to be some brainless creature monster. I was going to paint a bit of the forest with gray matter. When you insisted on helping me because you also needed food, I was honestly kinda pissed. But now? Now I’m happy you stuck around. Joel, I don’t wanna make you feel any type of way but…You are the only reason I’m still here on this shithole of a planet. Also…you sticking around had affected me in ways I wasn’t expecting…Joel thanks to you Joel, spending all of that time with you, getting to actually know you, exchanging stories, all of that shit. All of that meant means far more than you could understand, and in that time, I grew to fell in love with you Joel.

I should have told you in person not through a piece of paper. I know there isn’t much I can say now…. but I am sorry. I wish I could have told you in person, I really do, I wish I could have heard your lips say it back. I can only imagine how your raspy, yet honeysuckle sweet voice would say those three words “I. Love. You.” Gods the thought of it…

Anyways, if I keep going, I might accidently write you a book. For whatever reason it is that made me tell you where to find this, I’m happy I got to meet you when I did. Make sure to tell Ellie I said hi. You make sure you keep that girl safe or so Gods help you, Joel Miller.

-Your Crow, with love

P.S. Joel I don’t know how much longer I have till I turn, but I just wanted to say before I die, I love you Joel, tell Ellie I love her too. I left you my remaining ammo and handgun. I left Ellie my lucky bullet casing -we both know she’ll love it- and my bracelet, the one with that little metal rabbit foot charm. You have no idea how excited I was to leave that lonely farm. I would finally be with people I cared about and who cared about me. Like who actually cared about me.

I had a weird feeling that this is how things would go, so I planned. I know I’m leaving you my handgun and ammo. The handgun only has one bullet right now. You can fill it the rest of the way and leave, or you can do what I was too scared to do in the end…Kill me. Right now, I’m in the kitchen writing this. I don’t feel good, I feel like someone beat me with a lead pipe. My head is throbbing, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating because I’m hot with a fever, or if because of a cold chill.

I thought I’d have a bit of time, you know, write you some more, pour my heart out on paper for you, but I don’t. It wasn’t a deep bite, but it was a bite, nonetheless. I tried to sneak past this clicker, I was doing so well until I lost my balance and stumbled, twisting my ankle. I didn’t try to fight it, I thought I’d have better luck running back here. I didn’t…

I love you Joel, I really really ….

*Joel’s POV*

Your writing at the end was practically ineligible, trailed off almost. Joel wasn’t quite sure, what he was sure of, was the feeling of his heart break. An all too familiar break, one he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s mom…

Joel quickly and silently tore his path through the house, he was certain that you were playing some kind of sick cruel joke.

“Joel. Joel! Come on man,” Joel could hear Ellie, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t stop. He had to prove Ellie wrong, that’s why. Yeah, that makes sense. “Joel, Jesus fucking Christ. STOP!” Hearing Ellie’s loud voice had pulled him to a halt.

“Joel, I know you loved them man, I did too. I don’t know what hell-bent path you’re on, but you aren’t going to find them okay. I know,” Joel looked to Ellie, his unfocused eyes taking a moment. When his eyes finally focused, he could see it, he could see the tears that were pouring from Ellie’s face. That’s when he realized he too was crying. “I looked for them after I found their rabbit’s foot bracelet. I think they’re in the basement, the door is locked or jammed. I can’t get it open.” Joel swallowed the pained howls that wanted to rip through his tired body. Clearing his throat, Joel quickly wiped his face on his jacket sleeve.

“You stay up here; I’ll get it figured out. No matter what, I don’t care if you're curious or something else, don’t under any circumstances come down there am I clear?” Joel clenched his jaw, he needed something to focus on something, so why not something he can do.

Ellie never responded verbally, but Joel saw the stiff nod. Turning from Ellie Joel tried to make quick work of finding the things you left. It took him far less time than he expected. Joel also found a key; one he could only assume you left. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy or showy, but if he had to guess, it would unlock that basement door. Was that even something he wanted to do? Kill you? Or rather, kill the already dead you?

Heading back to the dining room, Joel looked at the things he had found in the house. The one catching his attention first? Your handgun. The one with only one bullet loaded in it. Picking up the gun, Joel examined it in his hand, the handle was worn, faint groves noticeable to the touch. The metal on it had definitely seen better days, days when the metal was clean and before it was used in all of this shit.

Swallowing the lump in his throat down, Joel took the key -along with the gun- to the basement door. Standing there, Joel simply stared at the handle. God only knows how long he stood there, but hearing Ellie walk into the dining room, pulled him back to the doorknob in hand. Gripping the gun tighter, Joel carefully put the key into the knob. Giving it a trying twist, Joel felt it resist for a second, before a soft ‘click’ could be heard. Gripping the knob, Joel twisted it slowly and carefully pulled the door open. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the basement, maybe you had found a way to do this. Something he was now dreading. Readying the gun, Joel carefully made his way down the stairs, trying to be as light as possible on his feet.

Once his feet hit the basement floor, Joel clicked on his flashlight. The basement wasn’t huge by any means, but it did have a smaller room off the back wall. Walking towards the doorway, Joel practically held his breath to listen for the all too well known cl-

The sound of clicking slowly filling the air as he grew closer. The sound put him to a stop. Can he really do this? Yes, because you shouldn’t have to be one of them. Clenching his jaw Joel continued on.

In the doorway, Joel could barely make out the shadow of you, or at least what used to be you. It was kind of hard to tell for certain where the bite was for certain, but it seemed as if it was your shoulder. As he stood there, Joel was silent, he wanted to remember what you were like, this wasn’t you and he knew that. You were gone by now, long gone and he knew that. Raising the gun, Joel closed his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes, Joel cocked the handgun, the click of the hammer grabbing your attention. Staring at what used to be your face, Joel could feel the tears run down his face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker my Crow.” His last word punched through the silence, with the loud echo of a spent shell.

'''''''

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fortuositywritings · 2 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Happen Masterlist

Summary: The way to get over someone is by finding someone new, at least that’s your friends say. You follow their advice rather reluctantly.

“Go talk to her.” Jennifer nudges you a little too hard. You nearly fall off the stool you’re sitting on.

You’ve accompanied her and her friend/coworker Nikki to a night out in the city and wound up at a fancy bar. For the past five minutes, they’ve been trying to get you to go talk to the blonde woman that hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked in.

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. “I haven’t asked anyone that wasn’t Wanda out in the longest time.”

“Damn it,” Nikki mutters, taking her purse out and fishing for some money while Jen laughs triumphantly.

You watch confused as Nikki hands Jen a ten dollar bill and Jen says, “And I still had fifteen minutes left.”

“Fifteen minutes left for what?” you ask.

“For you to bring up Wanda,” Nikki explains, making you gasp in return. “I do not talk about her that much do I?”

“Enough for me to make ten bucks out of it,” Jen answers, waving her prize in front of your face. You smack her hand away. “Oh, don’t pout. I think it’s adorable how in love with her you are.”

“I am not in love with her,” you lie.

“Okay, prove it. Go over there and ask that blonde out,” Jen challenges.

“Like I said, I’m rusty,” you claim.

“What better way to get back out there than walking over and chatting her up? This could be your trial run,” encourages Nikki.

“I don’t know. I think I should start safer. What about you, Nikki?”

“What about me?”

“You like women, right? So how about you be my first date?”

“We’ve got a nice thing going here. Let’s not ruin that, Y/N,” Nikki says, patting your shoulder.

“Boom! First rejection right there. The rest comes easier,” Jen interjects.

“Fine,” you groan and reluctantly stand up. You down one of the shots on the table before making your way over to the blonde. Your friends cheering you on can be heard faintly.

“How bad do you think that’s gonna go?” Nikki asks Jen as they watch you introduce yourself to the blonde.

“Oh so bad,” Jen responds. “But this will be good for her. If we get her asking a few girls every time we go out, someone is bound to say yes.”

“Oh, we’re thinking like men now, are we? Where is the confidence for our new friend? She’s cute! She’ll get plenty of yeses.”

“Then why didn’t you say yes?” Jen counters with a knowing smirk.

“Cause you and I both know she is still way into Wanda and the last thing I am gonna be is one of those insecure women who compare themselves to another girl throughout the whole dating period. Nuh-uh. That’s not for me, honey,” Nikki explains and then takes a sip of her drink.

“Exactly. Girls can spot a lovesick puppy from a mile away, which is why Y/N is coming back right now with that face like she’s been rejected as I predicted.” Jen looks in your direction and sure enough Nikki sees you walking back with a small frown on your face.

“It’s okay. It takes some practice, buddy,” Jen coos.

Nikki is about to sympathize until she sees the napkin in your pocket and pulls it out. She praises, “But not for Y/N! Holy shit, you got her number and on a napkin? Talk about moves.” Jen doesn’t quite believe her until Nikki hands the napkin over.

“Who even carries a pen around?”

“Don’t you have one in your bag?” you remind her.

“Yeah, but I’m a lawyer. It would be weird if I didn’t,” Jen jokes. She reads the name on the napkin. “So, are you gonna call Trish?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “She seems nice enough, but I don’t know if I am ready to date yet.”

“That’s all right. This was a good step to moving on,” Jennifer declares.

Nikki readily agrees, “A great step!”

Jennifer lifts her drink up to you two and cheers, “To moving on!”

You reluctantly join, clinking your drink to theirs.

You wake the next day to a rap on your door, initiating an equally heavy pounding in your head. Not even Wanda’s sweet voice on the other side calling your name can soothe the ache. “Y/N, are you there? We have to head out in ten minutes.”

Shit. You have a mission today.

Wanda hears shuffling on the other side of the door, then a thud and a groan. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. I’ll be right out,” you reply in embarrassment, internally thanking the lord Wanda didn’t see you trip putting on pants. Despite the slight mishap, you think you set a personal best getting ready whilst hungover.

“Morning, Wanda,” you greet her when you open your door and see her leaning against the wall seemingly waiting for you. Your raspy morning voice interrupts her reviewing key notes for the mission on her phone. She’s about to greet you back but the sunglasses on your face distract her. She narrows her eyes at you.

“Are you hungover right now?” she accuses.

“No,” you lie, before closing your door comically softly giving you away. She scoffs, “Unbelievable. Let’s go. Bucky is waiting for us.”

She walks ahead of you annoyed. She walks rather quickly too as you follow behind her. She has to be doing it on purpose. Anytime you are close to falling into step with her, she picks up her speed. If the car was any farther, you think you and Wanda would have ended up jogging. Luckily, Bucky has pulled the car up front.

Wanda and you wordlessly get into the vehicle, she taking the passenger seat and you making your way into the back seats. You close your door gently. Wanda in turn practically slams hers shut, causing you to grab your head and groan. Wanda wouldn’t say she takes pleasure in causing people pain, but in this rare instance it does satisfy her a bit.

“Someone had a good time last night. I don’t think I have to ask who you were with yesterday,” he teases you as you stretch out in the back seat throwing an arm over your face in order to block out the sun after tossing your sunglasses. He gets a grunt in response.

“Here, this should make you feel better,” he says. You look over to see him handing you a water bottle and some painkillers he apparently stashed in the car. You sit back up, taking the items gratefully.

“You’re a godsend,” you dramatically thank him and lean over the console to give him a hard kiss on the cheek. Wanda watches beside you two, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. She determines the feeling must be disappointment in herself for not being a good friend like Bucky. Had she helped you soothe your ache instead of making it worse, maybe she would be the one whose cheek you’re kissing.

Nope. Not the point, Wanda, she tells herself. The point is to be a good friend. Bucky shrugs it off and turns on the car. “Yeah, yeah. Put your seatbelt on.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply jokingly, but do as he says. “That’s the last time I'll try keeping up with Jen’s drinking,” you declare, and suddenly Wanda’s thoughts about being a better friend fly out the car window and she holds herself back from turning on the radio at full volume.

You open the water bottle, taking the pills. You go through the water rather fast. Bucky notices and warns you to slow down. “We’re cutting it close as it is, so no bathroom breaks.”

You’ve practically chugged the whole bottle already. “I can hold it.”

“You wouldn’t have to had you woken up on time,” Wanda points out.

“I thought I had set my alarms last night, but I guess I forgot,” you replied.

“Forgets to set her alarms, but not to get drunk the night before a mission,” she mutters not so under her breath. She doesn’t even know why she is so upset with you.

“Why are you mad at me?” you ask. Obviously you could feel it, but you sincerely don’t know what you did to upset her. You and Wanda both laughed when Clint showed up to work once hungover. You figured it would be Bucky who would give you an earful about it, not Wanda. Bucky doesn’t say anything, instead focuses on getting you to your destination.

“I’m not mad,” Wanda lies.

“You look mad,” you reply.

“I’m not mad,” she repeats, getting annoyed.

“You sound mad.”

“I’m not mad!” she yells.

You wince at the loudness. Bucky gives Wanda the side eye, clearly not believing her. You back off, “Okay, you’re not mad.”

The rest of the car ride is quiet, but it gives you time to get your head in the game. You have a job to do. Whatever is going on with Wanda can wait. Bucky parks the car across the building where your person of interest plans on meeting someone your team had apprehended four days ago.

“There. The black Maserati,” Bucky announces when he spots who you’ve been waiting for. The three of you wait for the sedan to make its way inside the parking structure before getting out of the car to follow.

“You two up front. I’ll go around back in case he tries to run,” Bucky orders. You and Wanda nod before heading into the structure to find the Maserati. You catch your target right as he is walking away from his vehicle.

“Wow, is that your car, Mr.?” you ask over-enthusiastically to the guy dressed in a suit and tie.

The man looks up at you two realizing you are speaking to him. He gives you and Wanda a once over before smiling to himself and replying rather smugly, “Yes, it is. You girls like cars?”

You bite your lip to hold back your laughter when Wanda grimaces after he calls you two “girls”. You reply to him, “I sure like yours.”

“If you’re a fan of this one, you should see the one I have at home,” he boasts and throws a wink at you in good measure. Wanda rolls her eyes, quickly getting annoyed with the guy and with you. Could you hurry the chit chat so she can do what she came here to do and not have to watch the guy you’re supposed to take down flirt with you?

“Wow, you have two of these?” You ask and your target is eating this up thinking you’re really impressed. You turn your head to tell Wanda, “Maybe we should get into dealing alien weaponry illegally. Seems to pay better.”

His smirk turns into a frown and he takes a step away from the two of you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N and this is Wanda. We’re going to ask you kindly to come with us for questioning,” you answer. He panics, you see it in his eyes, the way they drift between you and the nearest exit. Wanda notices this too. She warns him, “Don’t run.”

He doesn’t run straight away, you’ll give him that. No, he decides to pull a gun out first and shoot Wanda’s way first before making a break for it. Luckily you saw this coming the moment he reached under his jacket, so you pull Wanda safely behind a car in time for the bullet to miss.

You make sure your body cushions Wanda’s from hitting the hard ground and yet what hurts more is her elbow hitting your rib when she lands on top of you. More shots ring so you and Wanda stay where you are. He was running towards Bucky’s way anyhow.

You hear the clattering of a gun hitting the floor and a few groans, all signs that Bucky is kicking his ass right now.

“That was close. Thank you,” Wanda says.

“Will you forgive me now for whatever I did to make you upset?” you ask sincerely.

“I wasn’t mad,” she insists with a roll of her eyes and then more quietly adds, “But yes, you’re forgiven.”

You laugh at her response and she smiles back. Your hands grasp her waist, giving her tummy a warm feeling. You couldn’t pull her any closer if you tried. Gravity is already doing its thing keeping her body flush against yours. “Wanda?”

“Yeah?” she replies. Her eyes drop to your lips and she nervously gulps. Right when she thinks of finally breaking the tension and leaning in, you tell her, “I think it’s safe for us to get up now.”

Realization that you were trying to push her up and not keep her against you dawns on her and embarrassment ensues. “Oh, sorry,” she squeaks, cheeks tinged red. She gets up off of you at the speed of a bottle rocket.

“You’re fine,” you assure her. You wish you could say the same for yourself.

“Yeah, don’t worry, ladies. Take your time. I got this,” Bucky interrupts sarcastically as he passes by you two carrying the unconscious culprit over his shoulder.

“Do you think he’ll let us stop by McDonald’s?” you ask Wanda as you both follow Bucky back to the car.

“No,” Bucky answers, having heard you. Wanda giggles while you argue, “We don’t have to stop. They have drive-throughs, you know?” You smile when she gives a full loud laugh after you say, “It doesn’t have to be McDonald’s.”

*****

“Have you texted her yet?” Nikki asks while stabbing her salad. She and Jen invited you to lunch a few days later.

“Texted who?” you ask.

“Who do you think? The woman from the bar!” Nikki reminds you. The way you scrunch your face gives her your answer.

“That’s a no,” Jen jokes.

“I totally forgot. I’ve been busy.” It’s a lame excuse. You haven’t been doing anything of importance at all after that small mission with Bucky and Wanda. Jennifer and Nikki know this too.

“Yeah, busy getting sucked right back into Wanda,” Jen comments with a laugh, but you know she means it and it annoys you that Nikki agrees.

“I am not,” you deny.

“Remind me, Jennifer. Where did Y/N say she went on Sunday?” Nikki begins with faux forgetfulness. Jen plays along.

“The farmer’s market with Wanda.”

“She asked me if I had any plans and I didn’t so she invited me to go with her and I couldn’t say no right after I just told her I wasn’t doing anything,” you defend yourself.

“What about the trip to Target on Monday?” Jen adds.

“She was buying a bookcase and wanted a second opinion,” you answer with a shrug.

“Opinion on what? There are like three choices.” Nikki has a point there.

“I don’t know. I guess she’s indecisive,” you reply and Nikki mumbles, “Sure seems like it.”

“Can we change the subject, please?” you ask, no longer feeling like being attacked by your friends.

Jen appeases you. “Fine, fine. What were you doing earlier that you were running late?”

You mumble something they don’t catch, but they already have a feeling what it might be.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear that with your head hung down shamefully. What did you say?” Nikki teases you.

“I said I was putting a bookcase together,” you repeat, rolling your eyes when they both laugh. “Well it wasn’t going to build itself!”

“Doesn’t Wanda have telekinesis or something? She doesn’t even have to lift a finger to build it,” Jen tells you.

Nikki jokes, “Bet she doesn’t have to lift a finger when Y/N’s around.”

“Y/N, how are you supposed to get over Wanda if you are always around offering her your time and services?”

“I can’t just start ignoring her. I tried it before and it was just mean. She’s my friend,” you remind them.

“A friend you have feelings for,” Jennifer returns with a serious disposition. “Look, we’re just trying to look out for you as your friends. And if Wanda is your friend like you say, she’ll understand if you need some space to get over your feelings for her.”

Yeah, that’s a conversation you don’t want to have. “That’s definitely an idea.”

“Or,” Nikki gives you a second option, “you can move on like originally planned and actually stay busy seeing someone else. Text the woman from the bar right now. Ask her out!”

You prefer Nikki’s idea. You’ll go with that one. Before lunch is over, you text Trish and by the end of the night you have a date to plan.

You freak out about what to do for a first date so you search online and the one that speaks to you is a picnic. You know that Trish is easily recognizable after she’s told you she is a radio host and you saw her face on the side of a bus so a picnic in the park would not be the best idea. Maybe you could set up on the roof. You wonder if that’s a good idea or if she’ll hate it. Self conscious about it, you ask your teammates what they think while you are in the gym with Steve and Sam.

“Is a picnic on the rooftop for a first date too much? Or what do you guys think?” You drop your weights to look at the men. Only Steve bothers to look your way.

“I think it’s a waste of time and energy if she’s just gonna say no,” Sam replies, continuing to punch the bag Steve is holding still for him.

“But she already said yes,” you say. That gets Sam to stop his punches. He and Steve look at you surprised. You wonder why they look so shocked.

“Wanda said yes?” Steve asks. Oh.

“No, not Wanda. Someone else,” you sigh.

“Tsk, man, you got me excited for nothing.” Sam goes back to working the punching bag. Steve though carries on the conversation. “Who is it? Do we know them?”

“Maybe,” you answer with a shrug. “She’s a radio host. Her name is Trish Walker.”

“No way.” Sam stops again. “You’re going on a date with Trish Walker. The Trish Walker.”

“Who’s Trish Walker?” Steve speaks up.

“She’s Patsy from ‘It’s Patsy’!”

“Patsy?” Steve looks at you in confusion but you can’t explain this to him because truth be told you don’t know what Sam is talking about either.

“How do you not know- oh yeah,” Sam interrupts himself. “I forget you’re both a different generation. It was a tv show and she starred in it. I had a huge crush on her when I was younger. And you’re going out with her?”

You nod in response, making Sam shake his head. “That’s foul. You would do that to me, your friend?”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics. “You haven’t answered my question, friend. Is a picnic a good first date?”

“I think it’s romantic. I think she will appreciate the effort and thought you put into it,” Steve pipes up. His comment makes you feel better about it. That is until Sam speaks.

“It’s corny is what it is. You have to do something fun and interesting. No restaurant, no picnic. It has to be something she’ll definitely remember. Take her scuba diving,” Sam suggests.

You look to Steve for his thoughts on this. He is shaking his head and immediately saying, “Don’t take her scuba diving.”

You leave the gym still thinking over the picnic idea but definitely not considering scuba diving as a substitute for a good first date. You don’t notice Wanda or the way her eyes linger over your body as you walk down the hallway heading toward your room for a shower until she’s two feet away.

“Oh, hey, Wanda,” you greet her with a smile. Her head snaps up and she smiles back with pink cheeks, praying you didn’t catch her checking you out. You didn’t. Instead you’re thinking Wanda is a girl. Her opinion over the first date matter would be valuable, so you ask her next, “What do you think about a picnic on the rooftop as a first date?”

Wanda was not at all expecting those to be the next words out of your mouth. It’s been so long since you’ve asked her out and she can freely admit to herself anyway that she missed it.

“You’re asking me?” Wanda double checks that this is actually happening. You look around the hallway confused. Of course you’re asking her. There’s no one else here. You nod and she asks furthermore, “For a first date?”

“Yeah, or is that too much?” You look so unsure. This is different than all the other times you’ve asked her out. You would be so confident in your delivery. This is something new. Wanda thinks it’s kind of cute.

You take Wanda’s quietness as an answer. “It’s too much isn’t it? I knew it. Damn it.”

You sigh. Back to the drawing board you guess. Scuba diving isn’t sounding so bad anymore. Wanda pulls you back from getting too far into your brain. “Wait, Y/N. No,” she starts. Is she really about to do this? Is she about to agree to go on a date with you after having said no a hundred times?

“I-” she hesitates. What if the date goes wrong? What if it ruins what you have now? This past week she realized just how much she enjoys your company, how comfortable she is when it’s just the two of you. What if it becomes awkward?

“You?” Your sweet eyes look at her, asking her to finish her thought.

What if the date goes really well? Then there is a second and a third and then you’re dating and you’re wrapping your arm around her and watching tv together and calling her beautiful. Okay, so not so different from what you’ve done before but with dating you would kiss her whenever you wanted and you’d smile when she kisses you back and... that actually doesn’t sound so bad.

Oh what the hell. It’s one date.

“A picnic on the rooftop sounds perfect.”

You smile in relief. No scuba diving for you. “Really?”

“Yes. When were you thinking?” Wanda asks.

“Oh um. We’re both free tomorrow, so I was thinking like five-ish cause the sun is supposed to set around six and the view looks awesome from the roof.”

She looks at you surprised. “You really thought it through.”

“Yeah.” You don’t give her much more than that because it would be embarrassing to admit that originally you had planned a date like that for you and Wanda. You would have had Wanda’s favorite food from her favorite places in the city and have had a cute set up you pictured in your head. But it’s fine. Hopefully Trish enjoys it. You clear your throat. “Okay, well. I should really shower.”

“Yeah, I was wondering what that smell was,” Wanda jokes.

“Hey! Three hours at the gym with Sam and Steve, this is as sweet as anyone could smell,” you defend yourself.

“Three hours?” she gasps. “Why do you do that to yourself?”

“An ass like this takes work,” you jest, turning around to walk back to your room but not without a shimmy of your butt to make her laugh. You feel proud when it works and you hear her giggle.

“You better not smell like that tomorrow,” she warns you. You laugh the rest of the way to your door. Before entering your room you call Wanda one last time. “Hey, Wanda. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome?” she says, confused. It’s the first time anyone has thanked her for agreeing to go on a date. She giggles to herself after you close your door. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.

All morning Wanda radiates nervous energy. She supposed she shouldn’t overthink it. It’s just a date. She’s had her fair share of first dates before. First date jitters is a thing, but as much as she wishes it’s simply that, she thinks there is more to it this time.

She’s never dated a coworker before. Coworker? That doesn’t sound right. Teammate? Better, but still not fitting. Friend? Are you friends? You had always shown romantic interest so Wanda was always skeptical considering you a friend, but that’s what you ended up being, wasn’t it?

Any way you put it, coworker, teammate, or friend, Wanda has never dated anyone of the category. It always seemed messy. If things go wrong, you would have to see that person at work all of the time or your friendship wouldn’t be the same and you’d fall out. Was it worth it?

By 11am, Wanda has convinced herself dating you would be too complicated. So she goes to find you and tell you the date is off. Would you be upset? Would you think she’s playing with your feelings? That she’s leading you on like Natasha said?

But it’s not leading you on if she wants it too. She can confirm she does want it. Screw the outcome. Dating is meant to be fun and there is never a dull moment when you’re around.

By 11:30am, Wanda finds you with your arms full seemingly on your way to the rooftop. It looks like you are about to set up and you tell her so when you catch her staring.

“Oh, hey, Wanda. Don’t mind me. I’m just going to start setting up now so I have time to get ready. I promised I’d smell good, you know,” you joke with her. Seeing the blankets in your arms, the nerves come back to Wanda but this time they don’t feel so bad. There is excitement mixed in there too. “While I have you, do you think this is enough blankets? Is it enough cushion for the ground? I don’t want our butts numb twenty minutes into the date, you know?”

She laughs but she goes to feel the stack of blankets and decides you need more. “I think maybe two more. You can grab some of mine,” she offers.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just steal some more from Sam’s room. No need to get yours dirty,” you reply, waving her off.

“Okay, hey, Y/N,” she calls you back before you can get too far. You look up in her direction. She smiles at you and says, “I’m actually kind of happy this is happening. I’ll see you later.”

She quickly dismisses herself with a blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t know what possessed her to say that but she leaves before she does anything else more embarrassing.

You stand in the hallway with the weight of the blankets in your arms and a new weight on your heart left by Wanda’s words. She basically told you she’s glad you are moving on. Although that is probably how she feels, you think she could have taken pity on you and not say it out loud.

You can’t have this weigh on you. There’s a date you need to set up and there is still much to do. You quickly organize everything on the rooftop before moving on to getting yourself ready and by five o’clock you are greeting Trish at the door before leading her inside and up to the rooftop.

While you are hoping you don’t run into Sam on the way up, Wanda is dolled up and waiting for you to knock on her door. She grows impatient after waiting half an hour. You did say five, didn’t you? Tired of waiting, she knocks on your door. Sam catches her waiting at your door frowning down at her phone. You are not answering her texts.

“She’s not in there,” Sam tells her.

“Where is she?”

“She’s on a date,” he discloses with a pout. Then he takes notice of Wanda dressed like she is also going out. “You look nice. You have a date too?”

“Too?” She storms up to the roof, not bothering with a reply. She bursts through the exit door that leads to the rooftop. She doesn’t have time to admire your work or realize that there is someone else here with you. All she knows is she has been waiting a long ass time for you to knock on her door and you’ve been here the whole time.

“Y/N! I’ve been waiting for an hour. What have you been doing?” she snaps, startling you and your date. Wanda looks upset.

“Wanda? Did we have plans?” You ask, totally confused.

“Our date?” Wanda reminds you. She doesn’t understand why you are acting like this is the first time you are hearing about it.

“Date? I thought you weren’t seeing anybody,” the blonde woman next to you scoffs. Wanda finally turns to see a whole other human being present. Who the fuck is this?

“I’m not! This is just a misunderstanding. Give me one moment. Wanda, can I talk to you for a second?” You pull Wanda off to the side. “What are you doing?!” You ask her.

“What am I doing?? What are you doing?! Who is she?” she fumes.

“That’s Trish. I met her at a bar when I went out for drinks with Jen and Nikki.” It’s more information than she needed but it doesn’t really answer what she actually wants to know.

“Okay, what is she doing here?”

“What do you think she’s doing here? We’re on a date!” you whisper yell.

“No, you’re not.” Wanda denies.

“What? Wanda, look around. We literally talked about this yesterday,” you remind her, waving your arm in the direction of the picnic setup.

“This was supposed to be for me, not her.”

This trips you. You never thought anyone would catch you. How could Wanda possibly know that you had this planned for her originally. “Wh-who told you that?”

“You did yesterday!” she hisses, both her hands shaking in front of her in clear frustration. It’s making her angrier that you still wear the dumbfounded look as if none of this is ringing a bell.

“Wanda, what are you talking about?” You couldn’t be more confused. What is going on?

“Hey, so this looks like more than a misunderstanding. I’m gonna head out. Call me whenever you get this sorted,” Trish speaks up, grabbing her stuff, before she leaves.

“Trish, wait-” you call after your date but all you get is the sound of the rooftop door closing. You turn to your teammate to demand an explanation. “Wanda, what the hell?”

“Why did you stop?” Wanda asks instead, tone full of hurt.

You sigh, “Stop what?”

“Why did you stop asking me to dinner?”

You frown. Why is she bringing this up now? “You said no.”

“I’ve said no plenty of times and you still came back. You still texted me corny lines. You still chatted me up when I was trying read or exercise. You still sought me out and spent time with me no matter how many times I turned you down.”

You looked away from Wanda with your cheeks flushed. Yes, you tried a little too hard and it did you no good. Why is she bringing this up? Is she trying to embarrass you?

If you bothered to look back at her, you’d see the tears forming in her eyes. “You never left me alone. You still tried. Now the only time you are around is when I find an excuse for you to be. Why’d you stop trying? Why did you leave me alone?”

You work up the courage to look her in the eye and give her an honest answer, using the same words she used before. “I guess it finally clicked in my head that we are never going to happen.”

Never did she think those words would come back to bite her. Wanda swallows hard, realizing you heard her and Nat outside her room weeks ago. The hurt expression on her face morphs into a guilty one. She didn’t know you were listening, but of course you were. You were probably waiting to see her find the gift you left at her door. But she didn’t actually mean any of what she said. Maybe she thought she did, but none of it was true, at least none of what Wanda said was true. Natasha on the other hand laid out some hard truths Wanda didn’t want to own up to.

“Y/N-” she tries, but you don’t let her get very far.

“It’s okay. You’re right. I should have taken the hint. I don’t hang around you as often because I get that I can be annoying.” A lump forms in your throat from recalling that night and what was said, but you push on through.

“Y/N, you’re not-”

“And the less time I spend with you, the easier it will be for me to get over you.”

“You’re over me?” She asks sadly.

“Not yet,” you reply candidly, “but I’m trying to move on. I’m sorry if you feel like I don’t care about you anymore because I’m not there all the time, but I just need some space. I hope you can understand.”

You didn’t think it would come to this, at least you hoped it wouldn’t, but it seems Jennifer was right in the end. You need a break from Wanda. It’s the only way to move on.

Wanda doesn’t say anything and you don’t wait for her to. “Feel free to grab whatever you want.” You point to the food leftover on the picnic blanket, not wanting it to go to waste. “I’ll clean it all up later.”

You leave Wanda on the rooftop alone with her thoughts and the scraps of a date that should have been hers.

_______________________________________________________

A/N: This was meant to be posted like five days ago but I felt it was a little too short so I took the time to make the chapter longer. I hope you like it. Let me know what you think! Thanks for the patience and I hope I got everyone on the taglist thus far. Taglist: @skis1501 @xastrydx @almosttoopizza @m-r-nicely @matildeboh @ksslhdg @youlookterribleilookawesome @miss-chew @idkyidownloadedthisbutididanyway @simpformommywanda @wandanatfan @idcplss @poteitalouca @lizlil @watashiwaglr38 @natashaswifeu @unicorn2003 @kellexforthefuckingwin @sojo154 @sheriffhaughtearp @grxvitye @lissaaaa145 @pawiie @anitavdw @tearsofglitter @justyourwritter69 @natashasnoodle @vizoxx @anki-of-beleriand @an-evergreen-rose @jadechasesworld @lorsstar1st @captains-simp @natblackwidow2 @hella-hecka-gay @wandsmxmff @nothingisrealanyway @b0mbdotc0m @mmmmokdok @lonewalker17 @ageofolsen @infinnitycatchers @dark-hunter16 @ireadtofeel @reereeineedtopee @infrunamix @how-to-disappearr @username23345 @panthastichumanbeing @kurosstuff @chasethemoon @etheriaaly @youralphawolf72 @karmasgxrl @medinalethal-blog @capswife @puathepig @whataloadof @splatasha-jumpinoff @afuckingshituniverse @justlurkingforyou @maximofflover @blackluthxr @scarletswandawitch @imdreamingblo @anxietyisgreat @xxromanoffxx @romanoffomixam @diaryoflife @natashasilverfox @harleyswanda @gimaximoff @simplysimping999 @cmaysf @frvny @sadpiscesheart @chasethemoon @olsensnpm @chaekhan @dumpaccdontmindme @iliketozoneout @lordesolddepression @devriesgoode @shittylittleweirdo @i-have-no-life-charlie @dutifullysuperbwitch @teenybean @nothingisrealanyway @kas1644 @m-h-r-h @bpluvie @bottomforwanda @daenerys713 @sandyche3ks @justyourwritter69 @get-the-fuck-outta-here @s1ut4nat @rooooooe @lenalesbian @alienstookourbunnies @lainjupi @mi-yo-0 @lesbesapphic @sylencr @i-wanna-be-a-deer @nightimemommy @donnietarantino @celticjess08 @esposadejoyhuerta @fxckmiup @casquinhaa @paaandiculations @detectivepineapple @oh-thats-cute-blog @jusnough @aliherreraaa @wandanats-goodgirl

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff imagine

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gayandfairycore · 2 years ago

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Marmalade and mischievous mornings

Summary: spending a morning in 35 portland row, regular shenanigans ensue between the four of you.

Word count: roughly 800 words(?)

A/n: this is my first time writing for lockwood and co. So I hope I did the characters justice! Feedback is muchly appreciated but please do be kind, This is not proof read.

The smell of toast, and marmalade filled the little kitchen at 35 Portland row, the comforting yellow light of the kitchen casted a warm shadow over the inhabitants of the house. The thinking cloth white, and yet covered in inky black doodles, and words scrawled messily down on the white tablecloth. the biscuit crumbs that seeming always found home on the table had began to make your arms itch as you sat next to your friends around the table, a warm cup of tea in hand.

As an ever drying pen is left uncapped, and discarded. The soft linen curtains blew in the mid morning air a conversation started to arise between the group of four. The conversation went a little something like George rattling on about the case they had just completed, Lucy calling the fact that it was clearly was not a low level type one and was actually very strong type two and that George was getting rusty on his research skills.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

George had yet again refused to wear trousers, Lockwood a plain white tshirt on, as opposed to his regular suit and cut tie. Lucy an oversized shirt, and some comfy shorts, you having adorned something quite similar to Lucy. opting for a band shirt, pj shorts and some fluffy socks. It didn’t look like only last night three out of the four had almost died, in fact it looked as if the four of them had just had a slumber party.

Sadly it wasn’t a slumber party, instead they spent majority of last night running for their lives in a panic, away from a powerful ghost that they were unprepared to face. so majority of the group were surely going to be aching for the next few days.

munching down on a piece of toast and sipping your tea, the warmth from the chipped glass radiated to your hands, the steam from your tea momentarily being inhaled. a soft smile graced your features as you sipped your tea, Lucy and George’s bicker had yet to be stifled.

When you joined the agency Lockwood had actually warned you to usually just tune them out, that’s what he did. It made you laugh originally but dwelling on it now you’ve decided tonight you’ll pull him aside an ask him to teach you to tune out the friendly bickering.

“clearly you’re just a bit rubbish of a ghost hunter then!” George yelled, clutching his biscuit as he swung out his hands, shrugging his shoulders.

“Rubbish?!” Lucy exclaimed in faux outrage, a piece of buttered toast hanging from her mouth as she spoke the gravity of her exclamation declining as it came out muffled by the aforementioned toast.

“I am not rubbish, george karim! how many times have I come to your rescue? Hmm. You wouldn’t call me rubbish then!” The brunette persisted pointing her half eaten toast piece at him her eyes glared at the boy.

Knocking the piece of toast away from himself, “that’s different!” He retorted as slumped back in his chair slightly coy smile adorning his features.

“Oh is it?” The brunette raised her eyebrows her voice no longer yelling, George gulped quietly slumping impossibly deeper in his chair at the girl, her voice lowered in a warning. The same warning voice she used when they had first met. Watching the scene play out from across the table, toothy grin on your face as you admired your friends, your eyes caught Lockwoods. majority of his face hidden behind a crumpled and tea stained newspaper.

You watched as he shook his head at his friends antics, chuckling into his tea cup. Your eyes meeting in a silent melancholic comforting moment.

your attention only moving when you heard your name called, ”cmon y/n back me up!” Lucy’s expecting gaze told you that you had missed something.

Your eyes darting between the pair nodding unsurely and feigning confidence as you replied with an “oh yeah, absolutely what she said.” Before tilting your head in subtle exasperation taking a large sip of your tea, to mask your embarrassment of admiring Lockwood so much that you had managed to tune out the pair.

“No! Y/n how could you!” George exclaimed mock outraged taking over his expression as he slumped back in defeat, Lucy’s laughter filled the air, a lost expression passed over your face as you glanced between the pair, Lockwood pulling you into his side to answer your unspoken question,

“she just stated she’s the better researcher than him, and that anyone would agree she could do it with her eyes closed.” Lockwood smirked stifling a chuckle as he let go of your arms “and you just agreed with her”

The boy smirked, flicking out his news paper with flourish.

Your mouth formed a ‘o’ at the revelation, before a cocky smirk overtook your face “I mean George may be a the best researcher- No offence, Luce-” you pause, looking at their confused and impatient faces with a coy smile hands in in the air as you point to them.

“But what I want to know is, whose the best ghost hunter?” Leaning back in your chair you watch as chaos ensues clasping your hands tigether like you were an old villain

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Both Lucy and Lockwood exclaim, the latter dropping his news paper onto the table and the force shaking and spilling his tea.

A silence formed over the room, as George watched as his competitive friends began to turn on eachother in friendly competition.

“No offence Lockwood, you may be a prodigy and all that but it’s got to go to Lucy!”

“Y/n!” Lockwood exclaimed his eyes darting wildly as his mouth agape

George reclining in his seat as he stifles a laugh lockwood whirling around to face the boy attempting to look serious and upset.

“George- do you think this is funny?!” The ebony haired boy exclaims, as a chuckle breaks midway through his facade as he speaks.

A mischievous grin adorns George’s face as he replies “I do actually I think this is very funny!”

“Lucy cmon back me up here!?” Lockwood pleads his hands together in a prayer eyebrows raised

“Sorry Lockwood!” Lucy retorts “But y/ns right I’m just the superior ghost hunter.” The girl replies straightening her posture and flipping up imaginary jacket cuffs.

A plan begins to formulate in lockwoods mind “Well if it’s like that then” he states before pulling you into him and tickling you

Between bouts of giggles you exclaim “lockwood! Lockwood! No! Oh cmon!”

His fingers never stopping their assault at your side no matter how much you try to wriggle away, he only stops tickling you to bargain

“Say that I’m the best ghost hunter you’ve ever known!”

Struggling to breathe through your laughter you chuckle out an estranged “No!”

Lockwood smirks “Alright then.”

His fingers moving at your sides painfully fast breathlessness taking over you, as tears well in your eyes loud laughter fills the kitchen.

pouting your lips you exclaim in defeat“okay! Okay! You’re the best ghost hunter I’ve ever known!”

Lockwood stops his assault at your sides smiling and slinging his arm over your shoulder before he taunts the brown eyed girl

“see Luce, there’s only one person here whose the best ghost hunter-“ mischievous looks are shared between you, George, and Lucy. As you move yourself from under the arms of the boy.

Lucy exclaims a “sorry Lockwood! But it’s not you, george get him!” And with her exclamation both you and george begin to ambush the boy flinging your body onto his back watching as he loses his footing. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck like he was giving you a piggyback.

“Ah- uh oh!” His yells voice high pitched and shrieking laughter fills the room despite the mess that had somehow accumulated over the time you had been in a tickle fight.

The spilled tea over old newspaper clippings a spilled tub Or marmalade staining the thinking cloth

As the sound of a camera flashing momentarily blinds both you and Lockwood as you both come toppling down the wooden floor your body above lockwoods.

Bashfulness blooms in your chest “oh uh sorry-“

Lockwoods narrows his eyes in disappointment “No it’s quite alright” he murmurs. Moving to sit up on his elbows a look of surprise takes over his face as you turn to look behind you

Your two friends about to dog pile you both both you and Lockwood exclaim almost at the same time “George, Lucy you don’t have to do this!”

The two share a glance at eachother before flinging their bodies onto you both collectively collapsing your attempts to get up. groans leaving you and Lockwood at the added weight.

#Lockwood and co #Lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #Lucy carlyle x reader #george karim #George karim x reader #Lockwood and co fluff #x reader

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theonevoice · 1 year ago

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InktOmens - 5. Map

A Good Omens + Inktober 2023 project

(A5 size, toned gray paper, black ballpoint pen, black fountain pen ink*, white gel pen)

Stars! Everywhere!, 26 to go

* So, a little behind the scenes. I almost gave up on posting this, because my lazy ass couldn't be bothered testing the random bottle of India ink that had been in my drawer since forever - "it will surely work fine, why wouldn't it?". Turns out, it was not India ink, it was an unspecified fountain pen ink, that not only did a number on my white gel pen (RIP), but also left a satin, almost glossy finish on the paper. And let me tell you: my poor scanner did not caaare for it. My first attempt at digitizing it resulted in an almost entirely rusty-brownish-red rectangle. After many more attempts, many tears and many adjustment layers, this is all I got. I am not happy with it, but it is what it is.

Moral of the story: don't be like me, always test your supplies!

#inktomens #good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #before the fall #crowley fanart #aziraphale fanart #aziracrow fanart #good omens fanart #good omens art #inktober #inktober 2023

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dutifullylazybread · 5 months ago

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WIP Whenever Tag ✍️

Thank you for the tags @darkurgetrash and @lemonsrosesandlavender!! 💖💖💖

SO I am fighting with Deeply and Immovably So, and to keep the writing flowing, I *did* start a little Halsin x Tav one-shot. It's not to take away from the long fic so much as to keep my writing sharp while I keep working away at my main WIP (I also haven't introduced a short story series I am playing with right now that I think you'll all love).

SO here is some of what I have written thus far (content warning for mentions of blood and some violence):

Tagging @voloslobotomyservice @commander-krios @kimberbohwrites @savriea @barbwillbrb and whoever else would like to tackle this!

“Get up!”

She was hoisted up by two of her guards and taken down a short flight of stairs, the tips of her boots trailing behind her as they dragged her. Prior to fifteen minutes ago, had anyone told her that she could be overpowered by a group of goblins, she would have scoffed at them.

Then again… she’d also set the scene rather nicely so that she would be captured. Now, she wanted to make sure she gave them a good performance. They’d done all the hard work, after all.

All they needed to do now was toss her into the empty prison cell to the right of the staircase…

…except they trudged past it and went straight ahead…

…towards the cell that held a rather large, rather incensed cave bear.

Shit.

The bear bristled, its lips peeling back into a snarl as Tav and her goblin entourage approached.

She didn’t need any additional encouragement. Tav forced her feet forward, planted them onto the floor, before pushing back, fighting to throw the goblins off kilter. This hadn’t been the plan. She was supposed to land in an empty cell or, had luck been with her, in the same cell as the archdruid—not some half-starved bear.

Three of her guards detached from the cluster surrounding her to prod the bear through the bars of its prison with their spears—they didn’t even have the decency to use the blunted ends of their weapons. No, they stabbed at it with their chipped and tarnished points.

The bear lurched away from the bars, its snarl burning away to a roar. It swiped at one of the spears, splintering its shaft and sending half of it skittering into the shadows behind it. The fur on its left front leg started to mat with blood and its large brown eyes were feral with rage. It slammed against the bars in an attempt to grab at the goblin that caused it injury, clawing at empty air as the creature bounded back, grinning delightedly.

Had Tav been reluctant to get in the cell before, she was downright opposed now. She thrashed against the goblins holding her—only to be promptly reminded that one of the camp’s bugbears had accompanied them into the worg pens. She was reminded with a swift strike to the side of her head.

Her vision swam. Her arms were released and she slumped to the stone floor. She was vaguely aware of the grit biting into her cheek and the tacky pull of the drying blood puddle on her skin and clothes. Its rusty stink was only enhanced by the clinging stench of old piss and shit.

“He’s all ready for you,” one goblin said to her before turning to the others standing idly by. “What are you waiting for? Get that fur ball away from the door! Now!”

Oh, of course they wanted to rile the beast up before tossing her into its den. The mauling to follow would only be inevitable. Hopefully it would steer clear of her skull when it supped on her—she was none too sure how a tadpoled cave bear would pan out. Nor did she want to learn. Then again, would a mind flayer tadpole survive a bear’s digestive system?

She didn’t have time to consider before a sickly crack cut through the bear’s roar, dragging it out into an agonized whimper.

#darcy was tagged #thank you for the tag #halsin #tav #halsin x tav #tav x halsin #bg3 fanfic #fanfiction #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #one-shot #cw: blood #cw: violence #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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pale-opal · 2 months ago

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Hear Me Out 2:

So. I know that this image, like the ones in the last post I made, is incredibly niche. I also suspect that, the MMX and Warrior Cats fandoms, much like the Mega Man and Homestuck fanbases, probably don't have that much overlap. However. I am not going to let that stop me from drawing this conclusion: if the books existed in the MMX universe, Axl totally would've read Warrior Cats. And he would've loved it. To prove this, I am going to write an entire multipoint essay about this strange little reploid, and this somehow stranger series of books. Buckle up, folks. This one is going to get wild. Now, first things first: I need to explain what Warrior Cats is. For those of you not in the know, Warrior Cats (also known simply as Warriors) is a book series that follows several different groups of cats known as "clans" through their time in a forest. Every writer who has worked on the Warrior Cats series has done so under the pen name "Erin Hunter". However, some of the authors identities are known. For example, the first few arcs were primarily written by a woman named Victoria Holmes. - The cats are not anthropomorphic (for the most part). They are feral. Humans exist, but they can't understand them. Pet cats are referred to as "kittypets." - A clan cat receives several names during their lifetime. If they are born into the clan, they are born as [noun/adjective]kit. As an apprentice (a warrior cat in training), they would be called [noun/adjective]paw. Once they become a warrior, usually at 12 months (or "moons", as months are referred to in the books as such) of age, they will become [noun/adjective][noun 2]. Cats who are the appointed leader of their clan are known as [noun/adjective]star. Cats that join a clan from elsewhere have a chance to go through this naming system as well, but they do not have to if they don't want to. Cat names will be used interchangeably, depending on when that specific cat had that name. - Leader cats have nine lives, of which are given to them by Starclan (cat heaven). There can only be one leader at a time. Also, there is a hell-equivalent known as the "Dark Forest". Dead clan cats get sent to one of these two places after death. Their ghosts can also die - either through fading (being forgotten by the living), or through severe injuries and other similar causes of death. - The clan cats follow a set of rules known as the "Warrior Code". It is mostly composed of basic rules, such as not being allowed to kill cats for no reason, not being allowed to quit being a clan cat to go live with people, etc. However, some more complex rules were added. An example includes a rule that allows a leader to be disposed by their subordinates. - I will be discussing spoilers for the entirety Warrior Cats series. If at any point during this essay you want to put on a life jacket and jump ship so you can experience these books blind, feel free to do so (however, I do recommend skipping to the final few bullets of the "Additional Notes" section before leaving the cruise, as I do mention topics that I think would be a disservice to not warn new readers of beforehand). I also have to provide a content warning for violence because these books can be dark sometimes.

Part 1: Character Arc Cousins Something that makes a book or story likeable is relatability. And how do characters become relatable? By having experiences that readers are likely to have gone through themselves. And if we go through the Warrior Cats series, we find that there are quite a few characters that Axl would relate to. For instance, there's Firestar:

Let's go through a list of the things he and Axl have in common: 1. Born as a kittypet named Rusty, Firepaw leaves his home to join Thunderclan because he feels he's meant to be doing something else with his life. Axl leaves Red Alert when they become evil, and joins the Maverick Hunters because he doesn't feel that it's right for him to be using his copy ability to harm innocents. Shared experience: leaving home to pursue their destiny. 2. Firepaw spends the majority of The Prophecies Begin (the first set of Warrior Cats books) trying to prove himself worthy of being in Thunderclan, even when he becomes Firestar. Axl spends all of X7 trying to prove himself to the Hunters, and continues to work toward doing so when he fails to win X's approval, even after all he's been through. Shared experience: proving themselves to people who are older and more experience than they are. 3. At the end of The Last Hope (the final book in the Omen of the Stars collection), Firestar dies from his injuries in a fight against the ghost of Tigerstar I (long story), his final life being spent protecting his clan. Guess what happens to Axl in X8? If you guessed "gets a mysterious black crystal shoved into his head by Lumine's corpse after working together with his homies to kill him, leaving him in a near-comatose state," congratulations! You're right! Your prize is... um... the satisfaction of being correct! Huzzah! Shared experience: dying/becoming severely injured after working to secure the greater good for their loved ones.

Firestar's not the only character Axl would relate to, either. There's also: - Squirrelfight (both characters do reckless things to keep others safe, and have an early habit of rushing into things. They also have trouble getting older people to take them seriously.) - Hollyleaf (both she and Axl betray people they care about - and they both do it with murder, too. (Axl has to kill the members of Red Alert, while Hollyleaf betrays Thunderclan by killing Ashfur (note: to clarify, Hollyleaf did not betray Ashfur specifically. She betrayed the clan by breaking the Warrior Code (although one could make the case that she didn't actually break it, but that's a whole issue of its own))) - Dovewing (similar to Firestar somewhat: both Dovewing and Axl work with older characters, and struggle to fit in with them)

Usually, the more relatable the characters are, the more a viewer or reader will enjoy the story. And with four whole cats that he can feel free to project himself onto, Axl's all set to have a great time reading Warrior Cats on the basis of the characters alone. But that's not the only reason he'd have a heck of a time. There's also:

Part 2 - The Drama of it All

Let's make another list. This time, we'll take note of what Axl likes, what kind of person he is, stuff like that. Axl: - Is trigger happy. Literally. One of his lines in X8 directly states that the thought of fighting mavericks "makes [his] trigger finger itch". The boy lives to fight. - Is a child. Based on his behavior (not taking certain things seriously, wanting to be treated as an equal to those older than him, being easy to amuse), as well as the way he is voice acted (he had a female VA for X7, and a common practice in voice acting is to give male characters who haven't gone through puberty a voice actress or a male VA who is younger or around the same age as the character being portrayed. Additionally, the voices given to him in X8 and Command Mission are at a somewhat higher pitch than X and Zero's - while he does sound older, it's clear that he's younger than X and Zero) tell us that he is not meant to be the same age as the other members of the Hunter trio. Warrior Cats is aimed at middle-school aged children. Keep this in mind. - Despises injustice. He ditches Red Alert when they go maverick, and spends an entire game trying to become a Hunter. And after he becomes one in between X7 and X8, he gets darn good at it. By Command Mission, he's an S-Class Hunter alongside X and Zero. Oh, and in X8 he shoots Lumine in the middle of an evil laugh and tells X and Zero to disregard his evil monologue that he just finished giving.

Based on all this, I think it's safe to say that Axl would enjoy how Warrior Cats includes the following: - The first antagonist, Tigerstar I, attempts to kill Bluestar (the leader of Thunderclan prior to Firestar), kills several innocent cats in his quest for power, and manipulates a dying clan to become its leader after getting exiled from Thunderclan. And how does he get his dues? By getting killed by the second antagonist, Scourge, with all of his lives being taken by one wound, (yes, this is considered a children's book series). And Scourge gets killed by Firestar, who takes him out after coming back to life from Scourge killing him first. You know. Like a boss.

- The majority of Warrior Cats start off as kits or apprentices, meaning that they begin their journey as children and/or pre-teens/teenagers. Recall the target demographic for the books. Now recall how old Axl is. I think you see where I'm going with this. - All of the major villains in the Warriors series meet a terrible fate, one that matches their horrible actions. We already talked about Tigerstar I (and Scourge, to a lesser extent). Now here are some other examples: Brokenstar: He forced kits (aka BABIES) into becoming apprentices before they were of age (6 moons old) (which is not only against the warrior code, but also dangerous because... well, I think we all know why it's a bad idea to send an actual baby out to do certain things like hunt or fight against entire adults in any context). He meets his end by getting blinded and poisoned by his own mother. And then when he dies, he goes to the Dark Forest. Ashfur: After becoming bitter over how Squirrelflight chose another man over him, he decides to go and kill her and her children. But guess what? Not only does that loser fail miserably in doing that, but Hollyleaf also takes him out. Unfortunately, Ashur somehow gets let into cat-heaven. However, this lapse in Starclan's judgement leads to Ashfur being able to magically force all the dead cats in both the Dark Forest and Starclan to do his bidding. He also possesses Bramblestar. But you know what happens to him afterwards? HIS GHOST GETS DROWNED IN A POOL OF WATER THAT SAPS THE LIFE FORCE OUT OF THE CATS THAT GO IN IT. YOU KNOW. LIKE A FREAKING LITWICK (shout out to Bristlefrost for being the one to take out this poser).

Part 3 - It's Not All Perfect Now, anyone who's read Warrior Cats knows that the series has some... interesting flaws in its writing. From forbidden romance being the Special of the Day every series to established lore being retconned at the drop of a hat, the Warriors books have gone through their fair share of bad writing decisions. Here's how I think Axl would respond to some of those issues:

1. Continuity Errors: - "Redtail's Debt" has dubious canonicity. It was established in the second book of the first arc that Redtail, the first deputy of Thunderclan talked about in the series, did NOT kill Oakheart (a former deputy of Riverclan) in a battle that took place in the first book's prologue. Whether or not he did was a huge part of the intrigue of the first two books, and finding out he didn't was an important part of uncovering Tigerstar I's treachery. The writers who took over after Holmes retired from the series retconning this has horrible implications for the series timeline. (And it makes Ravenpaw (one of the most iconic characters, and the one who revealed that Redtail wasn't a murderer) look like a liar for no reason. And we can't have that.) As a result, I think Axl would be pretty upset about this one. I feel he'd take the lore for these angry kitty-cats super seriously. He probably has a mock timeline in his room on the wall. He takes notes whenever new bits of worldbuilding is introduced. He represses the urge to bang his head against a wall whenever the writers confuse a cat's lore with another (looking at you, Graystripe). He knows everything about these cats, and he knows that Redtail didn't kill Oakheart. - On that note, the Heavystep situation would drive him up a wall. For those of you don't know, Heavystep is a character who has died a grand total of three times in the Warriors series. But he was never leader or anything like that: no, the authors just kept losing track of him. But you know who didn't lose track? The readers. I like to think Axl has an original copy of the book Dark River. In the original print of that book, Heavystep was brought back to life for a fourth time. This was later fixed in a reprint, but Axl doesn't know that. 2. Forbidden Romance: Until recently, cats who belonged to different clans were not allowed to become mates. But due to some changes in the Warrior Code, that is less of a problem. However, that doesn't change the fact that we got a lot of forbidden relationships in the series before that point. But even with that in mind, I think Axl would actually eat this sort of plotline up. He'd love it. We've already established that he would enjoy the more violent aspects of the drama. So why not the drama that takes place between characters in non-violent ways? - I figure that Axl would enjoy it until the last book of Omen of the Stars (AKA The Last Hope). That's when he starts punching the air out of frustration. I can totally see him venting about it out loud to anybody who will listen:

Axl: "And then Dovewing chooses freaking BUMBLESTRIPE over Tigerheart, even though Bumblestripe tried to ask her out DURING A FUNERAL." Zero: "And then what happ--" Axl: "Dude, I haven't even told you the worst of it. Before all that, Jayfeather was catching feelings for someone from the freaking PAST because TIME TRAVEL. And - oh. OH. Let me tell you about Firestar and Spottedleaf. Guess what they do. While everyone around them is dying and fighting for their lives. Guess." Zero: "Firestar.... moves on from her?" Axl: "HA! I WISH. No. Instead, they have an entire MOMENT. IN FRONT OF SANDSTORM. I HATE IT HERE." - As you can tell, Axl wouldn't exactly be supportive of the whole "Spottedleaf x Firestar" debacle (Spottedleaf dies in the first arc after Firepaw develops a one-sided crush on her. Spottedleaf starts to reciprocate as a ghost (after Firepaw becomes an adult and is named Fireheart), only for this to continue... until the day Spottedleaf's ghost dies). I imagine Axl would be fine with it at first, but once Firestar becomes mates with Sandstorm? All bets are off. I just can't see Axl supporting Firestar emotionally cheating on his wife. Axl would appreciate a lot of things - adultery most likely wouldn't be one of them. - Omen of the Stars would probably leave a bitter taste in Axl's mouth as far as forbidden romance goes (even after Dovewing ends up getting together with Tigerstar II) until The Broken Code, which would end up redeeming the concept in his mind in the most dramatic way possible:

Axl: *Is crying* X: "Aw, Axl! What's wrong?" Axl: *Is holding book 5 of The Broken Code, weeping miserably* "Bristlefrost and Rootspring just w-wanted to be h-happy, but now they can't, because -- because Bristlefrost is dead!" X: *Has no idea what he's talking about, is trying his best* "Oh, no! That's... that's awful." Axl: "And now all Rootspring has left of her is a vision of her and him with - with the kids that they'll n-never get to have-!" *Sobs* X: "Okay... how about... how about you read something a little happier-" Axl: "No, that - that's okay. I wanna finish it." X: "Are... are you sure?" Axl: *More serious than he has ever been in his life* "Yes." X: *Puts hands up* "Well - okay, then!"

Part 4 - Conclusion So. To sum this up, Warriors is a book series that contains copious amounts of violence, underdog characters to root for and relate to, killable villains, romance, and things that people can complain about. And Axl is someone who would enjoy all of that. In other words:

Rest in peace, Axl. You would've loved Warrior Cats. ...

(Yes, I know he's technically not dead. But he may as well be since we never got X9. The writers of the ZX series didn't even know what his final fate was supposed to be. That's why we got Model A and not Axl. Seriously. Look it up.)

Part 5 - Additional Notes Here are some other things that I would like to say that wouldn't fit into the whole of the essay:

- This took way longer than expected: it was in my drafts since August 10th! I actually had to edit a certain part of the essay because the arc A Starless Clan concluded while I was writing this. But now it's free. And I am now able to start work on another essay meant to boggle hearts and minds. Get ready. - Axl's favorite villain would be Tigerstar, even though he reminds him of Sigma. Reading about him getting killed twice gave him deja vu. - Zero would read Warriors to get a feel for it, so that he could understand whenever Axl started ranting about it. He ends up losing the plot and has to resort to watching YouTube videos. - X, on the other hand, would get super invested - but only after Axl started reading A Starless Clan. Which means that he's got a long way to go before he can relate to Axl's cat-related tangents. - Signas tried to read Warriors because Axl brought it up during a meeting once. He confused it for Tailchaser's Song (1985) and ended up introducing Axl to a new book to get excited over instead of figuring out what's "hip with the kids." - Axl cried at the end of The Last Hope. He bawled his eyes out. Just completely inconsolable. And then he read Dovewing's Silence, and cried some more. - When Grey Wing said "Kill me. Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.", it formed an entire core memory in Axl's brain. He would totally say this at some point in the fight against Red. And Red would just laugh and recall when Axl lived with Red Alert and spent a bunch of his free time reading silly cat books. The tension is eased. And then Zero runs over with his sword while screaming a battle cry and then they remember that they're at war. - Now for the serious parts. To begin with, there is a certain novella in the series known as Spottedleaf's Heart. Long story short, I don't like the idea of Axl reading this book. I don't like the idea of an actual child reading this book (at least, not without guidance). So Axl will not be reading it. I do not feel like it would be appropriate for me to explain why here, since it involves topics that would be hard to discuss in what's supposed to be a lighthearted essay. However, Moonkitti has a video that explains the issues with this book in case you want to know what it is I'm referring to (however, please heed the warning that she provides at the beginning). - For the second point, I'll cut straight to the chase: Warriors has quite a few examples of ableism and sexism. I didn't discuss either of them in-depth because I felt that it would be out of place tone-wise in the grand scheme of the essay, but again: I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't at least warn new readers about these aspects. To be specific, these problems are issues because it sometimes feels like the writers resent having disabled and female characters existing in their narrative at all. However, something that is worth mentioning is that there seems to have been efforts made over time to fix these problems. - In case you're wondering how Axl would feel about all this, here's how I see it: he'd hate it. While there aren't any disabled characters in the MMX series that he could've interacted with, Axl does know what it's like to be underestimated and mistreated for reasons outside of one's control. So he would most likely be personally upset by how the narrative takes the chance to sideline or get rid of characters in a similar position, regardless of whether or not the reason why was because of a disability (I imagine he would have some very strong words to say about what happened to Snowkit). As for the sexism: as far as I'm aware, most of the female influences in Axl's life are positive, with him knowing all of them personally. Why wouldn't he get mad about how the series treats women? Especially when all of the ones that he's friends with have been directly involved in what he does as a Hunter, or in saving the world in the case of MMX Command Mission?

Additionally, the books sometimes have legitimate trouble properly writing abusers. Some are written in genuine, believable ways, while others are written that way by accident or aren't fully treated the way they should be by the narrative. This leads to some... odd implications as to what is considered abuse in Warrior Cats and by the authors. In light of that last sentiment: do not come after any of the authors. While you don't have to respect all of their writing decisions, that doesn't mean you can just run around attacking people. Be respectful.

Furthermore, Warriors also includes relationships between characters with lengthy (and sometimes problematic (which is a topic that warrants it's own discussion, although I am not sure if I should be the one to discuss it)) age gaps. Keep that in mind before you start reading. - TL;DR: read the books at your own risk. And be mindful of what you're getting into.

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sleeplesssmol · 3 days ago

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Trail: Opened Sandwich (Ch 3 Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien)

This is Vertin's conversation with the Grumpy Man after she was placed in a coma. It gives insight on Mesmer Jr. and the trauma she and Vertin deal with. I included the screenshots under the transcription. Vertin's responses are italicized.

Transcription:

No, you are not awake yet. You are still drowned in this mire of meditation-sticky, swampy, and dark.

Where am I?

Welcome to nihility, Ms. Too Many Questions. You might be in an ocean, a well, the base of a ring finger … whatever.

At that "warm invitation," you are rewarded with some mold-like bruises on your legs. "The paramecia" think this gift will force you to give in.

But for you, the invisible wounds are much more severe.

Don't worry. They are not gentle at all, but neither are you benign.

"They are …?"

A group of people in gowns. Their gowns are made of white polyester and are over knee-length. There are seven, namely No. 1 to No. 7.

Probably only those odd-number guys are here. Or maybe No. 4 or 6 is also with them … Damn it, I don't care.

What matters is that your classmate is among them. No, not the gentle and loyal one who always stands by your side (Sonetto).

It is the other one-the one with indifferent outlines that makes her look like a refined machine (Mesmer Jr.).

Let's skip her first name and only pay attention to her glorious family name, like what most people did.

Like sherry cask whiskies to the alcoholic, Upmann Cedar Aged Robusto Cameroon to smokers … and the Mesmers to the arcanists.

"What do they do?"

Anything mystical. When they sit there and point at you with an iron stick, you'll pass out. When they put an iron ring around your neck, you'll feel burnt.

You must be familiar with all these freaky tricks, because you are surrounded by freaky tricksters, like that little girl who protects others with her glass dipping pen or that floating apple dancing in the air (Sonetto, Regulus, Apple).

The Mesmers know how to suffocate the flames of consciousness; they help you free fall internally to the bottom of the abyss … as you are now.

It's really hard finding an arcanist who can freely master such skill. As you know, scarcity causes tragedy.

That was the start of her nightmare: when the Child Labor Law was turned into a piece of wrinkled paper to wrap the sandwich.

The young daughter of the Mesmer family was led to a room when she was 12. Before she stepped in, she had sensed the messy magnetic field on the other side of the door, thanks to her acute perception.

Compared to humans, arcanists are much more emotionally vulnerable. It won't take much to overwhelm them and force them to regress to animals.

The Mesmers are merciful and professional. They will never turn away any patient who comes to them for treatment.

… By then, you should realize the wrapping paper was never protecting the sandwich, but the hand.

The mustard from an unknown bottle, the squeezed meatloaf, and rusty lettuce leaf, all were crushed and fell out from between the bread.

Just like the chaotic noises and the raspy screaming that fill her ears … This filth contaminated the little girl's hands and corrupted the white polyester.

". . ."

Hmm, it is indeed a good time for silence.

Now you've noticed those exposed wounds on the machine, those marks from repeated washing and adjustments.

Well, the traumata from childhood is usually hard to forget.

Those memories are engraved in our heart and run through our veins … Eventually, they contaminate every single neuron with mucous snot.

Since then, every inch of growth is an extension of pain. New bones will be eroded and the condition can't be cured by cellular renewal.

Both you and her are familiar with this.

Okay, take your suitcase. Now it's time …Get lost!

#reverse 1999 #mesmer jr.#vertin #idk why the original post went missing but here we go again #doing it for mesmer jr and all the juicy analysis

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gghostwriter · 8 months ago

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Entangled Strings of Fate

Chapter 5. Everything (he) is blue

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Caltech, Pasadena - Cleo considers herself a woman of logic. With an IQ of 158 and an eidetic memory, how could she not. But meeting Spencer, the boy genius to hers, had her believing in intangible theories like the invisible string and the fates. Now, if only he would notice the depth of her feelings. Set in Caltech, pre-season 1 and will progress from there.

A/n: a random fact about me is that French is my third language, although I am a bit rusty from the lack of usage. Also, I opted to remove one whole chapter (for those who noticed). The original chapter five was in Spencer's pov but I wanted to stick to Cleo's for the whole Act One. Have this idea that Act Two, the groveling and angst, would almost all be in Spencer's pov.

A/n: Will be updating both my fics next week. Work has been busy lately so I’m using this weekend to draft up some more chapters or maybe even finish writing everything and queueing it here

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

"It is such a mysterious place, the land of the tears." - The Little Prince

She was out on another dinner date with Joe when her phone rang.

“Hey Pen, what’s—”

“Spencer was kidnapped—” Penelope frantically stated, no pleasantries given.

The bustling noise inside the restaurant all became distant. She felt blind-sighted. Even with her gifted IQ, her mind couldn’t process what Penelope said. It couldn’t be, she thought. Maybe if she denied it from reality, it wouldn’t be true.

“—Cleo, are you there?”

She felt the string around her eyes, a sign for an onslaught of tears to come. “Pen-Penelope, can you tell me what happened?”

“We—I can’t go into details,” Pen rushed out “But the team found him and he’s back home, alone, and as a friend of his and yours, I felt it was only right you knew.”

“I’ll go to his apartment now. I don’t think he should be alone,” she thanked Penelope and hung up.

“I am so sorry to cut our date short, Joe, but Spencer needs me,” she explained, grabbing her purse and shawl to leave.

Joe stood up and gave her a quick hug. “I understand, call me when you can, okay?”

With a kiss on the cheek, she exited the restaurant and flagged down a taxi.

———

“Spencer, are you there?” Cleo knocked on his apartment door.

Silence.

Opening her purse, she cursed when she realized the spare key was left back in her own apartment.

“Spencer please, it’s Cleo,” she knocked again.

There was a light shuffling from the other side and there he was, Spencer, looking ragged and worn down to his very bones still in work clothes. He silently stepped aside, allowing her inside. He then proceeded to lock all his deadbolts in place.

She noted the haphazardly thrown blanket on the sofa and the tossed satchel on the floor.

“Penelope called,” she stated as an explanation.

“Oh.”

“Are you—are you okay?”

He grimaced and shuffled to his barely furnished kitchen. With his back turned, he located a mug and filled it with water. “I’m fine, really,”

Without a word, she discarded her purse and shoes on the foyer and approached carefully. Taking the mug from his trembling hands, she squeezed both reassuringly. She was no profiler but she knew the signs when he tells a lie but she didn’t want to press. Didn’t want to push him off the precarious cliff edge that he was on, not unless he was ready.

“I believe you. What do you say we get you out of these clothes and into a warm bath?”

“Please,” Spencer whispered. His body seemingly curving in on itself, wanting to disappear into oblivion.

Cleo guided him to the bathroom, only letting go of his hands to set up the bath. Clothes now on the floor, sans his underwear, Spencer stepped into the bath and hugged his knees close to his chest.

“Let me help you, Spence,” she suggested, bringing his shampoo and scrub towel close.

He nodded.

Seemingly lost in his own mind, she gently lathered his wavy locks and massaged his scalp. Once his hair was finished, she took the towel and proceeded to scrub around his arms and shoulders. She noted a series of purple bruises on the inside of his elbow.

Oh.

At the moment, Spencer looked so small and helpless. Her heart twinged in sadness, willing the burn in her eyes to go away. She has never seem him like this, not once. Not when he retold his own experience with high school bullies. Not even when he failed his qualifications and the FBI took away his gun.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again and again.

She dropped the towel and cupped Spencer’s cheeks with both hands. “Hey, hey it’s alright. Look at me, there’s nothing to be sorry about,”

Taking note of her state of dress, his hazel eyes leaking tears. “I’m sorry, Cleo, I-I interrupted your date with Joe haven’t I?”

“It’s alright. You need me, I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else,” she reassured him, running her thumbs in soothing circles on his cheeks.

The emotional wall broke and Spencer started sobbing.

“Oh sweetheart, it’s going to be alright. Everything will be alright. Let’s get you dried off and into bed, okay?”

“No, not yet,” he sobbed out.

“Well, I’ll read you a bed time story in French, I know how much you like that,” she tried to bribe. “But it has to be when you’re tucked in bed.”

The pause in reply was enough for her to take that as a yes. She stood up and took a fresh pair of underwear and his fluffy purple striped robe, waiting for Spencer to follow suite.

He stared at her, blinking owlishly. “Can it be your choice of story?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He acquiesced, taking the robe and underwear, and slowly walking out to his bedroom.

She quickly drained the bath tub and collected all the clothes from the floor. By the time she was finished, Spencer was already dressed in a pair of his pajamas and staring blankly at the wall.

“Let’s get you tucked in,” she coaxed him to lie down.

Once he was tucked, blanket reaching his shoulders, and Cleo lying on top beside him with her head on her hands propped up, she stared at him with somber eyes.

The quietness enveloping them both.

She took a deep breath and started reciting The Little Prince from her memory.

“Lorsque j’avais six and j’ai vu, une fois, une magnificent image…”

Spencer closed his eyes and reached for Cleo’s hand. Seemingly, his own anchor to the reality.

“…J’ai ainsi eu, au cours de ma vie, des tas de contacts…”

She continued on for at least 10 minutes, wanting to make sure he had fallen into deep slumber. Slowly, she pulled her hand away to get up but his grip further tightened and his eyes shot wide open.

“Don’t leave me alone, Cleo, please,”’ he begged.

“I won’t, I promise,” Cleo shuffled to make herself more comfortable. “I’m staying right here, I promise.”

“…mon ami sourit gentiment, avec indulgence…” Cleo continued on the story.

Spencer closed his eyes, assured she wasn’t going anywhere.

Cleo continued on, up until she herself fell asleep with her hand tightly in his own.

———

She woke up to a whimper. Blinking the sleep away, she turned towards Spencer still asleep but whimpering and mumbling ‘no’ again and again, stuck in his nightmare.

“Spence,” she gently shook his shoulder. “Spencer, wake up,”

He bolted up right, gasping for air. He flinched ever so slightly when he felt her hand touching his, still not back fully back to reality.

“Hey, it’s alright. You’re safe,” she reassured again. “We’re safe here at your apartment.”

“I dreamt that I was back there,” Spencer sobbed as he went in for a hug. “He wouldn’t stop—wouldn’t listen.”

Cleo soothed his hair, pulling him down back to bed and close to her chest. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Spence, it’s alright.”

“I shouldn’t have ran ahead without back up. I shouldn’t have split up with JJ,” he rambled on. “He kept injecting me with drugs to numb the pain. I begged him to stop over and over. I didn’t want to take any of them, I swear.”

She tightened her hold on him a little more. “It’s alright Spencer, I understand.”

Under his breath, he kept apologizing over and over until falling back to a dreamless sleep.

She choked back a sob, not wanting to disturb his sleep. She wished she could take away his pain. Take away his memories—memories that he’ll never forget. Memories that he’ll relive in his nightmares. She wasn’t a religious type but she was willing to kneel down and pray to any gods to take away Spencer’s pain and give it to her instead. She’ll do anything, anything at all, just to make sure this sweet and perfect being who has inevitably captured her heart and soul, doesn’t get hurt ever again.

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