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buckydeservesthebest · 21 hours ago

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All of this.

I mean… how apathetic and unfair can anyone be to want to normalize a disabled person being dismembered by being taken away from his disability aid by a mechanism put is his prosthesis behind his back. A prosthesis that he did not even request to have in the first place. One that was given to him so that he could serve as a soldier and fight for Wakanda.

T'Challa himself recognized that Bucky was tired of fighting, his expression of disdain and misery at seeing the Vibranium arm as synonymous with being called to new battle says it all. (At least Boseman had more class in giving T'Challa a touch of compassion instead of acting like a proud and apathetic king who ignores the wishes for peace of a poor man who's seen too much already, and readying him for combat in the same way he orders the readiness of his other weapons.)

I would like to say that even though I would say it is canonical that Bucky is as well versed a fighter as Steve and T'Challa for combat.(Marvel's official website describes that he goes toe-to-toe with them.)

(The Winter Soldier didn't lose his first confrontation with Steve, and I would argue that he held the upper hand for most of the fight. In the second encounter, I think it's arguable to say that he seemed more focused on protecting the success of Project Insight rather than actually killing him. And in their last fight on CW, he was clearly able to neutralize Steve.)

Bucky was already described as an outstanding athlete in the Smithsonian panel. The canonical Mavel Dictionary: Visual Dictionary book describes him as a three-time YMCA welterweight champion (though admittedly there is no mention of this anywhere else, but that same book also confirms that Bucky was drafted and did not voluntarily enlist, so we can give him the benefit of the doubt).

Bucky was a capable enough leader to have earned his rank of Sergeant (E-5) in just one year and five months after he was drafted (January 1942). In WWII most sergeants, and the best sergeants, are considerably older than both their men and their lieutenants. This means that throughout the four years of the war, sergeants were mostly drawn from the older recruits and the existing cadres of corporals. Bucky was the youngest member of his team. Only very exceptional men between the ages of 18 and 26 can hope to possess the maturity looked for in a Sergeant.

Bucky was also 90% accurate at long-range shooting, which is why he was the team's de-facto sniper.

Side note: note how the role of sniper Bucky was always shown in a protective manner, by watching the backs of his comrades and firing only when an enemy approached them and not before. This is hardly ruthlessness, especially when you consider that Steve and the rest of the Howlies also used firearms.

And according to the Visual Dictionary book, his incredible sniper skills inspired the legend among HYDRA troops that their soldiers would drop dead as Captain America approached.

BUT...

Having said that, *this does NOT mean in the slightest that Bucky is innately ruthless and that violence is part of his nature.* Because being naturally talented either in hand-to-hand combat, as a leader, or by having good marksmanship is NOT synonymous with being ruthless and violent.

To say this is as absurd as saying that anyone who is talented in martial arts or marksmanship is a person who is naturally dangerous and should be kept under the radar because of the threat they possibly pose.

"God protect us from all the Olympian martial arts medalists, target shooters, world champion boxers, shaolin monks, they could easily kill anyone, they are potential dangerous criminals and a threat to society"... Do I have to explain why this reasoning is absurd?

The funny thing about this is that most of the real criminals, serial killers and terrorists are not even trained in hand-to-hand combat or in the proper use of firearms, much less are they the most talented people in those disciplines.

To say that a person who is skilled in combat or shooting is more likely to commit a crime and/or kill someone is extremely stupid, pardon the use of that word, but there is no historical or psychological basis for such an assumption.

It is indeed interesting, but most practitioners of any martial art, or fighting technique, are generally calmer than those who are not.

I will use myself as an example, my brother and I have been black belts in karate since we were 15 years old, and I can say that neither he nor I enjoy or look for fights because it is fun to kick someone's ass.

Actually, this idea totally disgusts me, I never remotely enjoyed the fights that were mandatory for exams every 4 months, nor did I ever enjoy having to beat up my classmates in defense practice, yet, (sorry if I sound pretentious, that is not my intention) I guess my brother and I demonstrated enough skill to get the black belt before some of our other classmates who were older than us.

Why am I saying all this? My intention is to clarify that the fact that a person is skilled in some fighting technique does NOT make him/her naturally ruthless or more prone to be violent than other people.

And the fact is that the ability to fight is part of the survival instinct of all living beings, the ability and willingness to kill someone if the situation forces us, is something that exists in each of us, even animals.

Any person, no matter how small and frail, is no less willing to be violent in self-defense or in defense of someone else than a super soldier (who didn't even ask to be one) who is also fighting for his life or the lives of his friends.

But for some reason, Bucky is the only person not entitled to use light violence (one that is not even lethal force) defensively because he is already considered ruthless and cruel. Where is the reasoning in this?

Bucky is canonically a NON-violent person, someone who has never actually thrown the first punch in a fight, one who waits for the conflict to start so that he has to respond.

This can be seen from the way he defended Steve from the bully in CA:TFA, he first stops him, positions himself in the middle of him and the victim (Steve) as a shield, waits for the aggressor to attack him, blocks his blow and it is up to that point that he responds the aggression, using the minimum amount of force to push the bully away.

The Winter Soldier himself is someone who does not attack first, but responds to violence once he is assaulted and not before, and when he does, it is very usually in order to protect something. This can be clearly seen in his fight against Steve in the Triskelion, he positioned himself in the middle of Steve and the computer, blocking his path so that he does not get to it protecting it. He does NOT launch the first attack, but waits for Steve to initiate the aggression and it is until that moment that he responds to it.

ALSO.

The Winter Soldier is NOT ruthless, this is a word that by definition does not apply to qualify him, because being ruthless implies that the person knows that his actions are ruthless, he knows that his actions harm a third party and he does not care or feel guilty about it.

The Winter Soldier is a non-person, someone with no sense of self, no emotions, he is a zombie with no mind of his own who is literally incapable of doing more than what his handlers command him to do. He can NOT reason the nature of his actions and thus be “ruthless”.

It's like saying that if a robot is ordered to kill someone, since it shows no emotions (because it literally has none), the robot is automatically “ruthless”. Of course not. And the Winter Soldier is virtually that, a mindless, emotionless body that is only programmed to follow orders.

Bucky is also a born protector and not someone who seeks conflict and enjoys fighting. (This is a great meta on the subject.)

Again, this is something T'Challa himself understands and acknowledges, so to say that Wakanda always considered Bucky a danger, and that he needed a permanent leash in case he got out of control is PURE. AWFUL. UNFOUNDED. BULLSHIT.

Even with the change in his personality in TFATWS, which is arguably out of character for him (only explainable due to extensive brain damage and C-PTSD that was never treated but worsened), Bucky literally never had an emotional outburst or showed an action that could have been considered aggressive and actually dangerous to anyone's well-being...

(And the only two times he showed anger was at Zemo! His former abuser, who continues to push his buttons and try to get under his skin by trying to plant self-doubt in his mind! Bucky has every reason to be more than upset with him for all that he wronged him!)

... not even towards Zemo, who he justifiably could have punched, when he held him by the neck and took back his notebook he didn't even apply pressure on his grip, otherwise Zemo would have ended up coughing and struggling to catch his breath.

And as rightly stated before, people forget that Zemo was an abuser of Bucky! Bucky himself being the one who was hurt the most by his actions! Because unlike T'Chaka's death which was not Zemo's direct intent, but one of the many lost from the explosion (he had a 50-50 chance of surviving like everyone else). The intent to hunt Bucky down and use him to cause damage was 10000% deliberate! So the Wakandans can't feel any worse about Zemo's prison escape than Bucky himself!

No one talks about how hard it had to be for him to interact with his former abuser and who stripped him of his autonomy by using him to cause harm. To say that Wakanda's bruised pride is more important than the trauma of Bucky having to interact with his former slaver who just kept pushing his buttons is horribly unfair!

Even in the firefight against the mercenaries in Madripoor, he showed frustration at having to be in that situation. “Dam it!” is the first thing he exclamis when the shooting starts, and he immediately covers Sharon and Sam trying to steer the safest path.

Bucky doesn't even shoot to kill those mercenaries, the first one seems to get hit in the arm and not the head, the second one clearly gets shot in the leg and not the head again... And the woman who was still attacking them at the end, he throws a pipe at her that hits her in the shoulder (one of the least life-threatening places) and not in the head or chest... And after that we can see Bucky's expression of shock and mortification for a moment, so much so that Sam has to reach out and drag him behind the door of the container! Where is the innately ruthless man that the writers want to sell us?

As well said before, this vision is totally fanon, NOT canon. The real Bucky we've seen for 13 years is literally the opposite of a ruthless killer.

Bucky is someone who despite understanding that it is not his fault what he was forced to do under mind control, that does not make him feel less responsible and that is why he wants to make amends for sins that are not his. A person as kind-hearted as he is cannot be recognized as such for that, and at the same time be labeled as ruthless. *For a ruthless person feels no remorse.*

No other mind control victim has shown such deep guilt and a desire to make amends to the people who were affected by his actions, as Bucky, and yet none of them have been considered “ruthless” or “naturally violent” for that.

Now about Ayo and the Wakandans:

"... they still choose to help him out of the goodness of their hearts.."

Sorry to burst the bubble @marvelandimagine but this is NOT so, T'Challa did NOT offer his assistance to Bucky just because of how magnanimous he is and because in saw in him a poor helpless man that no one else wanted to offer help to. T'Challa did it in the form of thanks for helping him find the real cause of his father's death, and also in the form of an apology for spending 90% of his time trying to kill him without first making sure to prove his guilt. (And to be honest, this assistance was something he *did* owe Bucky.)

The canonical comic Avengers Infinity War Predule literally states as much.

So while Bucky is grateful for the assistance Wakanda offered him, he does NOT owe them lifelong loyalty nor is he limited to only doing what feels right to them and did not represent a damage to their pride, because that is a stance worthy of a bully.

(But if the DM claim to have jurisdiction wherever they are… errr... does that mean that if they break into someone's house, they have jurisdiction and can do whatever they want simply because they are technically there? isn't that a narcissistic and supremacist attitude?)

"... she feels betrayed by Bucky because Wakanda helped him and now he’s doing something that’s hurting her country..."

"Hurt her country"? How is Zemo's temporary freedom (from a prison that wasn't even secure enough to prevent him from technically breaking free on his own with a plan relatively always) supposed to put a nation as advanced as Wakanda at any kind of risk? Besides the damage to his pride, which seems to be the worst sin according to Ayo.

It is ironic, or rather hypocritical, that Wakandans see Zemo's temporary freedom as a “danger” to their country, when the DM themselves and the entire Wakandan council allowed Killmonger, one of the most ruthless criminals, who literally hired Klaue to steal Vibranium, and who actually exposed Wakanda to real danger, to be king. Just because he fulfilled the tradition of defeating T'Challa in combat. (Does it mean that a potential and real danger to Wakanda is allowed, as long as he technically fulfilled the traditions? Which means that respecting traditions is more important than actually protecting Wakanda? Isn't there a certain cynicism and lack of logic in this?)

But back to Zemo, once again. his temporary freedom did NOT expose Wakanda to any kind of danger, because there was not a single thing he could do to harm them.

And not only this, Bucky always had every intention of returning him to prison once his help was no longer needed, this is something Bucky talked to Ayo about and it's something she understood! That's why she gave an ultimatum of 8 hours before returning, something Bucky never objected to. So to say that Ayo dismembered and dehumanized Bucky because she felt “betrayed” is totally false.

And speaking of betrayal, let's look at what this word means and why I believe Bucky's assistance in Zemo's escape from prison doesn't fall into this category:

According to the dictionary, “betrayal” has two main definitions:

1. To not be loyal to your country or a person, often by doing something harmful such as helping their enemies.

Bucky is NOT an agent or guard of Wakanda who owes them absolute loyalty. Zemo's temporary freedom did not expose Wakanda to any kind of danger, because there was literally not a single thing he could do to harm them. Bucky was NOT helping or benefiting Zemo, but using him as a means to a greater good. So this definition doesn't apply in the remotest of ways.

2. If someone betrays something such as a promise, they do not do what they promised.

Bucky was not assigned the task of guarding Zemo and making sure he never escapes from prison. He never promised or committed to that task because it is not his responsibility. So this definition does not apply either.

In conclusion, Bucky did NOT betray Wakanda by any definition. Because once again, Zemo's temporary freedom did NOT expose Wakanda to any kind of harm NOR danger.

(I wrote a short post on why, according to the nonsensical script, Zemo's help was necessary. The canonical book The Art of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier says so, so it makes it clear that Bucky did the right thing by calling on his assistance.)

"...And then that time limit runs up, and he chooses to get in her way..."

Like... this was literally NOT the case. The DM showed up claiming custody of Zemo, Bucky literally never objected. The only ones who objected were John, Lemar and Sam. Bucky didn't intervene in the beating Ayo was giving John, *until* she was literally going to kill him by impaling him with her spear, a death that had nothing to do with her mission to capture Zemo, and ultimately it was because she was distracted by using Walker as a punching bag that Zemo had was able to escape.

Ayo got upset because Bucky stopped her from killing a guy whose death adds nothing. She started attacking him violently. Bucky tried to talk to her and simply defended himself using non-violent methods and it was in a fit of anger that Ayo made her low move and disconnected his arm.

Now it turns out that it was Bucky who was being aggressive and that's why Ayo was outraged and removed his arm?? This is a bullshit lie!

As correctly stated before, it is justified for Wakanda to have put a kill-safe on the prosthetic aid they gave Bucky WITHOUT any condition (knowing full well that ignorance of this mechanism puts Bucky's life at risk), because they wanted to have insurance in case, as one member of the production of the TV series said, "the situation arose", they could simply deactivate it... But they have no problem making a full Vibranium suit for a stranger who was one of those who opposed Zemo's arrest?

Let's pay attention to the words the production member used, “should the situation arise”. This goes beyond the idea that Bucky might “pose a threat to them”, this implies that that “insurance” is there for any time Bucky does something they don't like! And in fact that's what Ayo did, she disconnected his arm simply because she was upset that he stopped her from killing Walker... isn't that extremely low of her?

Now I wonder, Wakanda agreed to make a full Vibranium suit for Sam, someone who truly objected to the DM taking Zemo, and who called Bucky to intervene. It's only fair that they also put a fail-safe in Sam's suit to neutralize him in case he ever poses a threat to Wakanda, or in case he becomes mind controlled, no?

It's almost funny, but in the latest cut of CABNW, you can see the wings of Sam's suit have the same shock absorbing ability as Black Panther's suit, an ability that Bucky's arm does NOT have.

This is on purpose on the part of the production right? Now it turns out that Wakanda trusts Sam enough, a stranger they have vaguely interacted with, to include in his suit an ability that is special to BP's own suit??

Hypocrisy at its finest.... 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I think some people mad about the arm is not necessarily about the fact that Ayo disabling the arm itself, it's more of the fact that it was not necessary and the fact that Bucky had no idea they can do that. If I were to be honest, I think it was not that necessary because Ayo is well capable of taking him down without having to disarm him and she is definitely not threatened by him. I think what some people find upsetting about that scene is the fact that it kinda comes off as Ayo putting Bucky in a position where it would make him feel like he doesn't have full control of his own body after all. The Wakandans, especially Ayo, T'Challa and Shuri had every right to feel betrayed and upset but the point is they should have told Bucky about how the arm can easily be disabled like that, they didn't know Bucky was going to set Zemo free when they gave him the arm and regardless of the things they have done for him and if they were ones who gave him the arm, they should have at least told him about it, because it's connected to him, it's a part of HIS body. It doesn't matter if it was necessary to disarm him or not, the point is they should have told him about it because apart from the fact that it's his body and that it was a bit insensitive given his history, it's also a point of vulnerability, and the fact that she did it in front of Walker (and possibly Zemo) --- people who can easily turn on Bucky, could easily that to their advantage and attempt to disable it themselves. Just my thoughts on it.

Thank you for sharing your perspective, anon!

I’m going to use this long-ass reply to address this stuff with Ayo and also voice some thoughts I’ve had over the past few weeks seeing people paint Bucky into being this complete soft and harmless human that needs 25-7 protection which I don’t jive with — and this is me, a complete Bucky stan.

Many moons ago, I saw a post that compared 1940s Bucky moving with stealth and a loaded gun on the train to the Winter Soldier doing the same thing, essentially discussing the similarities and debating how much of non-brainwashed Bucky was in the Soldier. And I think the fandom forgets or chooses to neglect the following when painting him as this fragile, peace-loving guy:

Bucky was an incredibly skilled sniper in the United States Army. His job is to eliminate threats in the most efficient way possible, and he’s good at it. HYDRA gets their hands on him and + the serum, this gets magnified. It wasn’t like HYDRA turned him into someone with the ability and mental capacity to kill — that was already there. The brainwashing and torture just carved out the rest of him to leave those honed skills and an amplified ruthlessness with no moral issues, no sense of self to contend with. That ruthlessness is part of Bucky, whether people like it or not.

When Bucky is outside of HYDRA for the first time and hiding in Civil War and gets attacked, he’s so brutal in his actions that Steve Rogers, the man who literally was ready to die to save Bucky and free him when no one else believed in the good in him, intervenes because “Buck, you’re going to kill someone.” Bucky responds that he’s not going to kill anyone, but the fact remains: with or without HYDRA control, Bucky has a strong capacity for violence that hovers on brutality — again, what’s the most efficient way to eliminate or neutralize a threat? Like, I don’t want to kill you, but I’ll knock your ass out with cinder blocks to the chest.

Bucky has a good heart, he’s loyal, he’s smart, he’s caring, he’s the longest-standing POW in history and was turned into a slave for decades, put through unimaginable trauma and torture and horror with no escape. Bucky is also a strong and incredibly skilled super soldier who has a bionic arm, is a trained sniper, is unnervingly precise with knives, and self-describes himself as “semi-stable.” Zemo notes in the bar that “it didn’t take Bucky long to get back into form,” and he’s right because the ruthlessness and skill of the Winter Soldier is a part of him and always has been. We see it when he has his hand around Zemo’s neck and tells him he will kill him, when he rips the glass from his hand and throws it across the room.

And I’m sure the Wakandans know all this about Bucky, this light and his ability for hard-to-stop violence, whether from talking to Steve and Bucky or doing their own homework. And they still choose to help him out of the goodness of their hearts because he’s been put through hell and they believe they have the capacity to help him and it’s the right thing to do — they’re betting more on those positive attributes. And they put a failsafe on his arm, a literal weapon, and chose not to tell him. You know why I think that shows how much they did care about him? Because they could’ve blatantly come out and said “Hey, we don’t trust you,” and hurt him outright, but they didn’t because they’re betting on the light in Bucky to outweigh the dark or any future manipulation. That it’s a worst-case scenario function they hope to never have to use — so they’re prepared if shit hits the fan, and if it doesn’t, Bucky doesn’t have to be hurt feeling like he can’t be trusted. I see no issues here, they’re just being cautious.

Now coming to Ayo, my QUEEN Ayo. From that beautiful, beautiful opening scene, we get to see her support, her reassurance, her belief that Bucky will be able to work through this, even when he doesn’t believe it himself. She watches him fight and struggle and cry, and you can feel the hope in her and how moved she is when she gets to tell him it worked, he did it — he’s free. And she says it not once, but twice. And you can hear not just the comfort, but the PRIDE and warmth in her voice directed to him, who I’m sure she’s watched throughout the whole deprogramming process and gotten to know and is happy to see him work through the pain and come out on the other side.

And then she sees that same individual make a decision in freeing Zemo that she perceives as a “fuck you” not just to her country, but to her, someone who was charged with protecting her king. She could’ve just disarmed Bucky the second they met up, but she doesn’t. She takes the time to explain her side and her feelings, her guilt and her shame, and basically implies that she feels betrayed by Bucky because Wakanda helped him and now he’s doing something that’s hurting her country. And still, she doesn’t attack or just go get Zemo. She gives Bucky the benefit of the doubt and a whole 8-hour American workday to do what he has to do because again, she believes in the best of him. And then that time limit runs up, and he chooses to get in her way.

And that’s the final straw. She’s angry, she’s guilty, she’s frustrated, and she feels betrayed hurt by someone I think she did respect and care about, someone whom she worked with and helped and supported when he was his most vulnerable. Did she “need” to disarm the arm to fight Bucky? Probably not. But is she doing it in the heat of battle and adrenaline and a whole bucket ton of emotions, including what she sees as the White Wolf blatantly disrespecting her country and her as a person and even friend and she just says fuck it, I’m done? You hurt us and me, and I’m going to hurt you back? Oh yeah. And Bucky looks shocked, not because he’s a poor fragile baby and “oh no, my arm, how could you?? my TrAumA”, but in the dual realization of “oh shit, how’d you do that?!” and “oh shit, I think I crossed a line here.” And also, I don’t think a single person in that room would be able to recreate the disabling sequence other than Ayo — it’s way too targeted and specific for someone like Walker to pick it up in the whole three seconds it took.

People need to stop reducing characters to these black and white extremes of soft and hard, of good and bad. Doing so completely devalues and ignores the REALITY of the complexity of being human, and Bucky and Ayo are both great examples of that played by stellar actors who portray that range and depth extremely well. End of the day, my thought is that the failsafe in the arm was justified and people need to stop coming for Ayo based on this ridiculous narrative that Bucky is too traumatized and sensitive and too much of a fave to ever be challenged or he’ll explode into dust. Boy deserves a life of freedom and healing and mental health support, but he’s also still a formidable opponent with the capacity for violence and skillset to kill. People are more than one thing.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!!

#to say that the Wakandans had the right to remove Bucky's disability aid against his will #is as horrible and unfair as saying that any prosthetic manufacturer #has the right to remove a prosthetic from their patients because “what if they at some point use your prosthetic to attack you?#It's justified to put a potentially deadly fail-safe for them behind their back isn't it?“#he way Ayo dismembered and dehumanized Bucky is no less horrible #to the way Thanos dismembered and tortured Nebula #but this scene was made to horrify us and make us feel terrible for her #but with Bucky we should blame him for that??#the double standards are unbelievable...#and to say that Bucky is obligated to do only what is not against Wakanda's interests #because they helped him get rid of the Winter Soldier's programming (assistance that was offered to him in the form of thanks and apologies #is tantamount to saying that all people whose lives were saved in a hospital #are obligated to do only what the hospital sees fit #this is sooo wrong in more ways than one #the only ones who actually said ‘fuck you we lied to you all this time and we don't care about your safety’ were the Wakandans #and their actions do fall into the category of the word ‘betray’ against Bucky.#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #mcu bucky barnes #bucky is a victim not a villian #tfatws critisism #anti ableism

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 16 hours ago

Text

His. | The Salesman x Wife!Reader

Summary: You were his, a shame some men did not get the memo.

Warnings: Canon violence - Possessive!Salesman - Violent!Salesman - Jealous!Salesman - Simp for his wife - Slut Shaming (not reader) - A man being a creep - The Salesman getting quiet creative with the games - grammar mistakes -

The Salesman loves his wife, he loves her so much that he would burn Seoul down just for her.

He hates when others get her attention, your attention, you are his after all. Why do you need to meet up with your parents ? Dont they trust that He is taking well care of you ? Why does your friends wants a night out without their S/Os ? Does they want to be whores and cheat ? You woulnt ever do that to him!! You are smitten and down bad for him.

He has worked so hard to make you fall for him and his well composed self. You never once saw his dark side, his emotions were always under control when he was with you. He only showed you his good side, the side that was deep down locked only for you.

Would it bee too cheesy to say you had the key for his heart ? Probably, but that was the truth. No one could pull him away from his dark ideas, only you, he just needed to see your name on his phone to light up his mood.

And he knows he has his own failures, being possessive over you its one of them. But he cant help it, you are after all an amazing woman. Everyone should bow down to you when you pass them. The Salesman has to calm down his anger when he sees just the smallest disrespect towards you. He is already making plans on how he would take revenge for you.

But he cant go on killing every person that bothers him. Not because he does not want to do it. No, he would love to. But because it would attract too much attention and last thing he wants its you being under stress or having a police on his tail.

However there are things that just crosses the line, makes him see red and think:

When was the last time I played a game with someone ?

And god knows he does not mean an innocent game.

But what was going on that was pulling on his nerves?

Well, the spring season had just started and you being the lovable creature wanted to go out towards a well known park to see the new flowers.

He agreed, anything for his wife. He even looked up which day would be the best one to go and see all the new flowers. Not that he cared for these, no. He wanted to see your smile and that spark in your eyes. That was what he wanted.

And of course you had dress beautiful for it, part of him was temped to just stay home and show you how much he loved you in more carnal ways. But he decided to let that for the night.

The park was as expected full of peopel of all ages. Three times he had moved to the side to avoid being crashed by a kid, and three times you had give the parents a polite smile and a few words to not worry about it.

Hand in hand you two walked around. Besides the flowers there were sellers, ballooms, sweets, water, even umbrellas.

"Love can you get me a bottle of water? Oh! And ice cream?" You asked pointing at two stalls.

He nodded giving you his signature smile kissing your cheeck and telling you not to move that he would be back soon.

Saddly the ice cream took more time since there was a small line. He kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure you were alright. And for the most part you were, sitting there looking down at your phone (probably telling your friend group about your date, well he will check that later).

"What flavor Sir?"

He told the seller the flavor you wanted, pay for it and waited taking another look at you, a small smile on his face-

Only to be wipped out at the new sight.

A Man, maybe younger than him was sitting right next to you. Talking to you, smiling at you, being too close to you.

Who does that Man think he is ?

He cant help it, he is jealous, knows you wont ever go behind his back. You were his, his wife and only his. Why others seemed to not get the message?

"Sir?.."

Fuck, he must have stared for too long and looking a bit too agressive because now the seller was almost trembling as he was giving him the ice cream.

Just as he was having a death stare it went back to his polite self, taking the ice cream and going towards you.

The closer he got, the angrier he felt. That Man, no, that fucking worm was even closer now. He did not need to know what he was saying to you, his body language gave it away.

And so did yours. You were not liking it. If you being almost on the corner of the bench was not enough then your face was a clear give away.

But some men are pathetic and even when they can see the ring on your finger they wont back off.

Scum of life, this one would not live.

"Im married, and im getting uncomfortable. You should leave"

Oh your voice, like an angel it almost made him feel at ease.

Almost.

"Dont be like that baby, I just asked for your number, and I dont mind sharing"

Well he did mind. In fact he never liked sharing. And even less when it comes to you. You and sharing does not go in the same prhase, hell no.

He catches your eyes and can see the ask for help. And so he is finally there, whatever that excusme ot a human was going to say its cut off by his polite cold tone.

"Sorry my love, there was a line. I got you water and your favorite flavor" He says ignoring the man and giving you the items.

"And who may you be?" He asks his fake polite smile showing. He is towering over him. Making him feel small and smaller.

If he could, he would snap his neck here.

"Uhh, no one important. Sorry I will leave now" The namelss man says standing up and bowing, but before he can go the Salesman takes his arm rather harshly.

"I insist, you kept my wife company while I was gone after all.

And like that, thinking that he is fooling him he gets his name.

The Salesman nods and thanks him before taking your arm to start walking to the opposite side of the park.

"He came- I did not want to make a scene" You start, not scared of him but feeling rather bad because you are covinced he feels bad.

"No. Its my fault. I left you alone for too long, a beautiful woman as yourself should never be alone. Dont worry, you are with me now" He says kissing your head. "Eat your ice cream before it melts or did that exchange leave you with a bad feeling?"

Fucker he would pay for ruining his wife day.

"A bit...but you got it for me, so I will eat it" You said smiling up at him.

His heart flutters, you would do anything for him. He knows it. Maybe not like the same things he would do for you, but he knows you would push whatever thing or person aside if it means making him happy.

His dear wife.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

"Park Beolle" The Salesman said the mans name in a cold tone walking behind him. "Your parents did not like you a lot right? I cant blame them, you stole money from them multiple times" The Salesman said.

"This is not for them, its because you ruined my wife's day. And did not respect her. So I must punish you, I dont expect someone like you to understand"

Park Beolle stood there, hands tied behind his back, heels tied up together as well, a tape over his mouth. In front of him multiple bear traps stood.

The Salesman took out his loved gun "If you manage to cross the room within twenty seconds then you will live but I you fail"

He stood besides him gun on his own head a sick smile on his face.

"I will shoot you, and it goes without saying that you will have to jump. Ready?"

The Salesman saw the poor display of ability seeing him get his feets inside one of the bear traps making him fall, another one closing.

The tape muffled his screams but the Salesman kept watching him and the time.

"And up" His voice was a sing song tone, like he was happy about it.

The sound of the gun fired was everything that was left. Blood soaked the bloor.

"Ah, im going to be late. I need to clean this, well I hope my dear wife waits for me" He said taking a napkin and cleaning his face. "I will call her just in case"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

For the first time The Salesman came to his house with you already sleeping. He had kept you on call for one hour with the excuse of him doing some papel work.

"Eh? Metal sound?" He had say carrying the bear traps "I think you are getting sleepy my love, or maybe it was this stapler"

He smiled softly at your sleep form. Not even aware of the monster he was, to you he was a loving dotting husband. Nothing more and nothing else.

"Sleep well my love, I love you"

The now clean blood from his face and hands were a seal of it.

#squid game imagines #squid game imagine #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #salesman x reader #the Salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader

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skylin-files · 2 days ago

Text

girl code ⋆ na jaemin

pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?

pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn

featuring! winter of aespa, nct members

note: this is part three (final part). i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡

check other parts here: part 1 | part 2

── .✦

You found yourself zoning out in the cafeteria, barely touching your food, while both Haechan and Mark watched you with concern.

Winter’s silence—ignoring you and not replying for two days—wasn’t helping either. Perhaps luck was on your side, as your lab class with Jaemin had been postponed due to your professor’s flu.

Occasionally, you’d cross paths with Jaemin in the hallway. You tried to appear neutral, but the heavy weight in your stomach was impossible to ignore every time you saw him. At the same time, you couldn’t deny how much you secretly liked feeling his gaze linger on you as you turned away.

It had been two days since Mark sent the group photo and two days since you last heard from Winter.

It was the end of your final class, and as you placed the last of your things in your locker and slammed it shut, you nearly jumped at the sight of Jaemin leaning casually against the locker next to yours.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, and whispered back, "Hey."

You watched him as he straightened up from his relaxed position, seeming to wrestle with his thoughts, hesitating before speaking.

"How are you?" he asked. His tone held a subtle weight, as though he wanted to ask more but held himself back. You hadn’t been replying to his messages like you used to, and though he clearly noticed, he chose not to press further.

"I’m okay, just busy," you answered—a tired, overused excuse. It was obvious Jaemin didn’t believe you, but he only nodded in response. "Can I get you a coffee?" he offered.

Did you want to say yes? Absolutely. But was it the right thing to do? You weren’t sure. Caught between the pull of a heart yearning for love and a mind that kept shutting it out, you felt a pang of helplessness.

"Sure," you murmured, almost to yourself, the word slipping out with a faint sense of defeat.

── .✦

"One americano and an iced caramel macchiato for Jaemin," the barista announced.

Jaemin gathered both drinks, and while you went to the restroom, he placed them at the table by the time you returned. The two of you settled into a cozy seat at a café near campus, the same place where you and Winter usually hung out. As you sat there, your thoughts drifted to your best friend, and a somber look crossed your face, which Jaemin quickly noticed.

"We haven’t seen much of each other lately," he remarked, though you couldn’t quite read his expression.

"Well, our professor has the flu," you replied. Jaemin simply nodded, taking a sip of his drink.

The silence lingered for a while, and once again, it felt like he was on the verge of saying something but was hesitating. Finally, he spoke up. "I missed you."

As you were about to take a sip from your cup, you froze for a moment, the cup hanging just a few inches from your lips.

"I missed you too, Jaemin," you replied, though deep down, you couldn't help but feel that developing feelings for Na Jaemin might be the most ironic twist fate had thrown your way.

"I want to be upfront," he started, and you could feel your heart race. "I’m not sure if you're intentionally ignoring me or if I did something wrong," he added.

"Your actions toward me have been confusing." You cut him off, attempting to conceal the real reason behind your behavior—the fact that you knew about him and Winter. As you spoke, you noticed Jaemin’s eyes soften.

"I know," he replied softly. "That’s why I’m here. I want to clear everything up."

For a moment, you found yourself wondering if what you had said was just an excuse, a way to justify your actions. Deep down, you realized that part of you was also eager to discover if Jaemin felt the same way about you as you did about him.

"The things I’ve done with you, the things I’m doing now, and the things I’m about to do—I'm not doing any of this just to be friends," Jaemin confessed. "I wanted to be clear and be 100% honest with you, because this is how it needs to be for it to work."

Hearing him speak so openly, you knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

"Your best friend, Winter... remember when you said she had a situationship here on campus?" Jaemin asked. You could only nod, finally bracing yourself to hear the confirmation.

"That was me," Jaemin admitted. You weren’t sure whether to feel heartbroken, knowing that your best friend was the failed situationship of the first boy you'd ever liked, or relieved, remembering how Jaemin had opened up about his past situationship with you.

"You told me that your first and last situationship was one of your biggest regrets. You said you didn’t want to go through it again, that it was pointless, a waste of time. That was Winter?" you asked, and Jaemin nodded in response.

Was it wrong to feel a sense of relief at his answer? He was clearly over your best friend, yet you couldn’t shake the guilt that lingered deep inside.

"I want to be completely honest with you," Jaemin said. "I like you, and if you feel the same, I’ll do everything I can to make it work. But that can only happen if I tell you this."

Both of you understood the consequences. You hadn't known that Jaemin was Winter's past situationship, and Winter hadn’t even mentioned it when you showed her the picture of you and Jaemin together. As for Jaemin, he was aware that you and Winter were best friends, but his feelings towards you all came naturally, and his intentions were sincere—what he felt for you was real.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner, but now that what I feel for you is clear, I knew you needed to know," Jaemin said.

His words made your heart sink. You appreciated Jaemin for being honest, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness. Winter, your best friend for years, couldn’t even face you or talk to you about it over the phone.

You never understood why girls would lose their minds over a boy, not until Na Jaemin came into your life. You could only smile wistfully, never expecting to find yourself caught up in this kind of situation.

"I actually knew since two days ago," you finally confessed to Jaemin. "Winter, she’s been ignoring me. She even soft blocked me and my friends on social media," you added, referring to Haechan and Mark.

You paused for a moment, then looked at Jaemin and said sincerely, "Thank you for talking this through with me," feeling a deep sadness in your stomach. "But I need some time," you added, almost as if you were saying it to yourself rather than to Jaemin.

He nodded in response, and you could see a smile on his face, though it carried an undertone of sadness. "I understand," he replied.

You left the café and as you walked a few blocks away, the rain began to pour. Quietly cursing, you realized you didn't have your umbrella. But when you checked your bag, you found one tucked inside.

It wasn't yours, but it looked familiar.

You sighed as you realized it must have been Jaemin's—he must have placed it in your bag while you were in the restroom.

── .✦

The rhythmic sound of the cheerleading team's synchronized movements echoed through the gym as they practiced. For the past few days, Winter had dedicated all her time and focus to cheer, as if nothing else mattered.

When practice finally ended, she sat on the benches while the rest of her teammates left. She was alone in the gym, at least until footsteps echoed in, though she didn’t initially pay much attention. It wasn’t until the footsteps stopped in front of her that she looked up from her phone—it was Jaemin.

Winter froze as Na Jaemin stood in front of her in the university gym. "Are you lost?" she asked with a chuckle, trying to mask the uneasy feeling swirling in her stomach.

"We need to talk," Jaemin said plainly. Winter couldn’t stop the frown that formed on her face, starting to piece together the real reason he was there. Jaemin wasn’t there for her—he was there because of her best friend.

"If you’re here to tell me to talk to my best friend, then you should just leave," Winter snapped, standing and hastily gathering her things.

"You’re selfish, you know that?" Jaemin’s words caught her off guard, but she continued packing, determined to ignore him.

"You cut me off when I wanted to court you properly. And now that I’ve started liking someone who’s ready to commit the way I am, you’re acting like you’re the one who’s been dumped," Jaemin said, his usual calm demeanor replaced with frustration.

"She’s my best friend!" Winter lashed out, nearly throwing her things in her anger as her voice echoed in the empty gym. Jaemin and Winter locked eyes, tension crackling between them.

"This is the first time she’s liked a guy, but I know she understands what girl code is," Winter said, her voice faltering. Even as the words left her mouth, she felt foolish. Jaemin had never truly meant anything to her; their connection had been casual. Yet somehow, her pride and ego felt bruised, as if her very identity had been challenged.

"If you wanted her to follow girl code so badly, why didn’t you confront her about it?" Jaemin shot back, his tone sharp. "Why did it have to be me telling her about us? Why did her other friends have to find out before she did? You weren’t honest with her."

"I was honest! Not entirely," Winter countered, her voice rising in defense. "But when I said you two looked good together, I meant it. You did look good together." She paused, her voice trembling now. "But that doesn’t mean it didn’t make me feel sick to my stomach," she admitted, her frustration spilling out in every word.

Her hands trembled as she spoke, guilt crashing over her. Winter felt like the worst friend, the worst person, for the way things had turned out. She hated the way she felt but couldn’t deny it.

"You two looked so good together that it started to hurt," Winter admitted, her voice heavy with emotion. "But I don’t have the right to feel that way because I was the one who cut you off. We had nothing, and I didn’t do anything to change that. I didn’t stop her from seeing you."

Winter’s frustration was palpable, but it wasn’t directed at Jaemin or her best friend—not really. Deep down, she was angry at herself, though she desperately wished she could blame someone else. The weight of her own choices and inaction bore down on her, leaving her overwhelmed with regret.

Winter felt a wave of helplessness as she locked eyes with Jaemin, her mind briefly imagining what it might have been like if she had given him a chance—if she had taken him seriously. But reality pulled her back, and she could only shake her head in resignation.

"Just take care of her," she said softly, her voice heavy with emotion.

"I know you will, but please, take care of her. She's been looking out for me for years, and she deserves someone who will do the same for her." She was referring to her best friend. Clutching her gym bag tightly, she turned and walked out of the gym.

Jaemin stood frozen in place, the sound of the gym door slamming shut echoing in the empty space. Letting out a deep sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Your name was on the screen—the call was still ongoing. You had heard everything.

Every word, every emotion in Winter’s voice, every part of the conversation. You had heard it all.

── .✦

Your lab classes had resumed, but Jaemin was no longer seated beside you. At first, it stung, but then you realized why he had moved. He was doing it for you—giving you the time and space you said you needed.

Days passed, and you could still feel his gaze linger on you when you weren’t looking. The moment you no longer sensed his eyes, you found yourself testing your luck, stealing glances at him as if trying to grow accustomed to admiring him from a distance.

It was bittersweet, almost cliché.

A sadness settled over you as you wondered: Is this your reality with Jaemin? To admire each other from afar? The thought crept in—perhaps you and Jaemin were better at yearning for each other than at actually being together.

Not long after Jaemin spoke to Winter, you received a message from her. It was brief, only a few words:

Winter: “I’m sorry. I hope I can talk to you properly soon. I love you.”

You didn’t bother replying. It was clear she wasn’t ready to have an honest conversation or fully confront the situation. And as much as it hurt, you knew you had to face it on your own.

Weeks passed, and another group task was assigned during your lab class. As usual, everyone was instructed to write their partner's name on a piece of paper.

Glancing around the room, you noticed Jaemin's seat was empty. Your grip on the pen tightened as an internal battle raged between your heart and mind. Letting out a quiet sigh, you decided to follow what you truly wanted.

Carefully, you wrote your name on the paper. Just below it, you added "Na Jaemin."

Staring at the name, you gave a small nod before rising from your seat to submit it to your professor.

"He won’t mind, right?" you murmured to yourself, hoping you were right.

── .✦

Jaemin sat in the cafeteria with his best friend, Jeno, who was happily devouring his lunch.

“Are they not eating lunch today?” Jaemin asked, glancing at his watch. He was referring to you and your friends, who usually occupied the far end of the cafeteria.

“She’s in the library,” a familiar voice chimed in, followed by the loud clatter of a food tray being slammed onto the table, startling both Jaemin and Jeno. The voice belonged to Haechan, who had appeared out of nowhere, with Mark trailing closely behind, carrying his own tray.

“Be careful,” Jeno muttered, giving Haechan a side-eye, but Haechan merely shrugged as he and Mark casually settled into the seats across from Jaemin and Jeno.

“Why are you guys sitting here?” Jeno asked, giving Mark, his classmate, a friendly grin afterward, pointing toward the end of the cafeteria where Haechan and Mark usually sat. Both Jaemin and Jeno looked at them, confused by the sudden change in routine.

"You were looking for us, right? It would be easier if we sat closer to you," Haechan joked.

"It would have been easier if you brought your friend with you," Jeno retorted, referring to you, earning a glare from Jaemin. "As Haechan said, she's in the library," Mark added.

An awkward silence settled over the table until Haechan broke it, clearing his throat to grab Jaemin's attention. "Do you still like her?" Haechan asked casually, causing Jeno to nearly choke on his food at how blunt Haechan was.

"What?" Jaemin responded, and Mark rolled his eyes at the answer.

"One of our seniors is planning to ask her out," Mark added, prompting another "What?" from Jaemin, this time it was so loud that people nearby started giving them puzzled looks.

"Yeah, so you'd better get your act together. A month is plenty of time for space, right?" Haechan teased, casually chewing his food.

"Oh, and she wrote you down as her lab partner, so I guess that's your cue to stop this silent treatment," Haechan added, prompting Jaemin to jump out of his seat, leaving his food untouched as he rushed to the library where the duo had said you were. He had only missed one lab class, and this is what he returned to.

Jaemin silently thanked his lucky stars. If he had been there, would you still have written his name as your lab partner? No one could know for sure, but he quietly appreciated the universe's strange twist of fate—giving him a headache that day, which kept him from attending the class and the calls.

Jeno simply watched his best friend dash off, shrugging before going back to his food. He then looked at Mark and Haechan sitting across from him. "So, is it true that one of your seniors wants to ask her out?" Jeno asked.

"Nope," the duo replied in unison.

── .✦

Peeking through the library, Jaemin let out a sigh when he didn't see you. You must have already left. With lab class not until tomorrow, Jaemin considered texting you but hesitated, thinking it would feel strange to reach out after a month of silence. He decided to wait until the next day instead.

As the last period ended and he walked through the campus gates, Jaemin sighed again when rain began to drizzle. He scratched the back of his neck, deciding not to waste time by waiting for the rain to stop. It wasn’t too heavy, so he kept walking, feeling the droplets on his skin. Pausing at the stoplight, he waited for the signal to turn green. That's when he noticed the rain no longer falling on him.

Looking up, he saw you holding an umbrella over his head.

"You shouldn't walk in the rain, you might get sick," you said, making Jaemin freeze for a moment as he realized it was you. The umbrella he had placed in your bag during your last meeting at the café was now in your hands.

"I don't want my lab partner missing another class," you added, trying to sound casual, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

Jaemin couldn’t help but smile, a wave of happiness swelling in his chest. He nodded and reached for the umbrella, but your hand brushed against his, making him hesitate. Without thinking, he ended up holding the umbrella for both of you.

"Thank you," he said, his heart racing slightly. You could only smile in response, at a loss for words.

It had been some time since you were this close to Jaemin, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as you both shared the umbrella. Jaemin’s phone vibrated, a notification popping up. You couldn’t help but shake your head slightly, a bigger smile spreading across your face when you saw it was a message from Jeno.

Jeno: “Thank me later! She asked me about your last class.”

Jaemin smiled at the text before turning off his phone, his expression suddenly shifting to one of seriousness.

"Is it true that a senior wanted to ask you out?" he asked out of nowhere.

You looked at him, clearly confused. "What? What senior?" you replied, bewildered.

Jaemin studied your face for a moment, sighing as he realized Mark and Haechan had been playing a prank on him. "I hate your friends," he muttered, pulling you closer so you wouldn’t get wet from the rain.

── .✦

You and Jaemin resumed talking comfortably after that, with the two of you becoming lab partners again. Thankfully, Jaemin didn’t mind, and in fact, he was quite happy about it. He started sitting with you again in class, and during breaks, your friend group began sitting together with Jaemin and Jeno.

The attraction between the two of you? It was clearly still there, but now the signs were more obvious.

Jaemin no longer hesitated to hold your hand, kiss the back of your hand—whether it was randomly, out of boredom, or as a simple gesture to show his adoration for you—buy you lunch, carry your bag, and walk you home like before. He’d share his headphones with you, always finding a reason to walk by your side, even if it meant taking the longer route. Na Jaemin would take note of all the small things you liked, showing just how much he cared.

You weren’t being subtle either. Instead of admiring him from afar, you now had the chance to admire him up close as he focused on the lab report beside you. You’d make little excuses to talk to him, always try to sit next to him, finding small ways to be near him. You’d even send him little texts just to check in, and when you saw new art galleries or exhibits in town, you’d share them with him, suggesting that the two of you go visit together.

These are just a few of the many ways the two of you express your growing feelings for each other. After a few weeks, Jaemin began courting you, showing you just how serious he was about his feelings. This time, you chose to follow your heart.

Whenever you were with Jaemin, you’d find yourself staring at him for a while, watching a soft smile form on his lips whenever he caught your gaze. Every moment spent with him was filled with gestures of affection, and each one made your heart flutter with happiness.

── .✦

It was a special day—the annual cheer team competition, a major event for universities, where cheer teams from different schools came together to compete.

Your and Winter's universities were among them.

Since Winter was part of her university's cheer team, you knew you'd be seeing her today. Although you hadn’t spoken to her since her last message, you often found yourself checking her social media to keep up with her. From her posts, you could tell she’d been busy with cheer and had started partying less. You even came across a post where she had tried baking—a new hobby she had taken up to keep herself occupied. Sometimes, you wondered if she thought of you as much as you thought of her, or if she ever stalked your social media or checked in on your friends' posts to see how you were doing.

“Hi, here’s a free cupcake for you!” one of the students from another university said, offering a cupcake with their cheer team's name on it.

“Oh, but I’m from a different university,” you chuckled.

The person smiled and insisted, “This is a friendly competition! Take it.”

You accepted the cupcake with a thank you and made your way to your seat, where your friends and Jaemin were already waiting.

You glanced at the cupcake, noticing it had the logo of Winter’s cheer team on it. A soft smile crossed your face as you realized it was from her team. You missed Winter so much.

As you began nibbling on the cupcake, you shared it with Jaemin, unaware that Winter herself had baked it. She and her team had made the cupcakes for their supporters, and she knew you'd be there. Winter could only smile to herself as she watched you in the crowd, munching on the cupcake she had made.

Winter noticed Jaemin sitting beside you, opening a bottle of water for you while you enjoyed the sweet treat. This time, she didn’t feel that uneasy knot in her stomach. Her smile wasn’t bittersweet; it was genuine.

Fuck Girl Code.

Na Jaemin was truly looking after you, just as she had hoped.

"I hope you don’t think of me too much, I don’t want you to be sad over someone like me," Winter whispered to herself, watching as you and Jaemin laughed at something, Jaemin kissing the back of your hand as if it were second nature.

Suddenly, your eyes met Winter's. You were taken aback to see her looking at you, but instead of turning away or ignoring you, Winter gave you a warm smile. You returned the smile, and maybe, for now, that was all that mattered.

── .✦

tags: @carelessshootanonymous @taliaamara @zgzgzh @tinyzen @urlocalbeaner5 @profoundruinsunknown @lovesuhng @moryymor @haechanmybaechan @mmjhh1998 @cottonjaems @darumdarimdaa @hyucksnctzen @cherryynoir @haechanahceah67 @cigarettesafterjae @eternoange1 @yananluvclub @doubledoie @t-102 @nosungluv @aracy @haesluvr @charlunaotte @hyuksworld @maarslvr

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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 days ago

Text

found family | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: how it came to be.

word count: 5097

double the trouble masterlist

Yes this one has been re-wrote in line to fit with monkey's background, and I honestly didn't like the way I wrote the older version.

You never really understood the importance of family, after all, you grew up with an alcoholic and drug addict of a father who made it very well known he didn’t care about you from the very day you were born but meeting Leah and Jordan changed everything for you - They became your found family.

You had been a part of the Arsenal Girls’ Centre of Excellence since you were young, however, if you asked Leah then she would tell you that she’s practically watched you grow up right in front of her.

It was somewhat true at least.

You guess you can say that she has always been there, watching out for you even when you weren’t aware of it. Leah had met you when you were just nine years old, a small and scrawny kid with a magical touch on the ball.

Back when everything was simple and you were a happy kid, you lived with your grandma who was the only real family member that gave a damn about you. She was your dad’s mum but that lady adored you, fussed over you and made sure that you never went without so when she died, you were completely heartbroken.

Everything started to fall apart from there.

You were left to move in with an arsehole of a father who was nothing but neglectful, and he couldn’t have cared less about you. It wasn’t just his words that he lashed out with, but his fists too.

You never properly realised it but Leah made a promise to your grandma before she passed away. A promise to keep you safe from the man that you called your father, but social services deemed him good enough to have you back in his care.

They missed out on seeing the alarm bells. He was convincing enough to make them believe everything was fine, they didn’t see the numerous beer cans strewn around the room nor did they smell the stale smell of cigarettes lingering through the house.

Your father put on an act. It was convincing enough for people to believe for so long, that nobody realised that everything wasn’t as perfect as it seemed behind closed doors until you reached the age of 15.

Five years you had to deal with that man, your dad being so clever to hide the truth, but even best-kept secrets have a way of coming to light eventually.

Leah, of course, always knew something wasn’t right and pieced things together with the information your grandma had given her prior to her passing away.

Your dad never liked that and made sure to try and cut all forms of contact with her when he could.

Leah’s weekly visits to your house dwindled to nothing, and that went for phone calls as well. You were so confused why she stopped showing up, but you never realised your dad was behind it all along.

Leah never failed to show up. It was a promise she never intended to break.

It was your dad that made it more difficult to do so.

During the time of being eased into the first team, ever the observant one that she is, the woman would notice the way that nobody ever came to pick you up after training on the days that you were there.

“Where’s her dad? He’s meant to pick her up,” Leah's concern was vivid as she watched you walk out of training, your dad’s car nowhere to be seen, “She can’t walk home by herself.”

“Calm down, I’m sure there’s a reasonable excuse for him not being there,” Jordan would try to reason with her worried girlfriend, “Perhaps he’s just stuck at work.”

Leah arched her brow, pursing her lips, “I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t, but even if you offered her a lift, you know she wouldn’t accept it. She never does,” Jordan reminded her girlfriend with a knowing look.

Her concern only got worse though when you would arrive late in the mornings, stumbling in with a messy kit and barely holding it together. The way you would scarf down any leftover snacks at the club like you hadn’t eaten a proper meal in god knows how long didn’t go a miss either.

Leah knew right there and then that something was going on, but of course you didn’t want to tell her.

You were afraid to spill the truth. You didn’t want anyone to know what was going on behind closed doors. You were terrified of your dad, and you knew you would be at the full front of his anger if you told her.

Your dad never did like Leah, or Jordan for that matter. He’d always seen them as a threat to him, even if all they wanted to do was make sure you were okay.

You just realised it, you didn’t want to upset your dad so you went along with whatever he would say in order to keep him happy. But it was still never enough.

You thought you were doing an amazing job of hiding the truth – Keeping your head down, making jokes and pretending like everything was totally fine.

Even when it wasn’t, and Leah was able to see right through it.

“Where the hell is her dad?” Leah couldn’t help but think to herself as she watched you slip out of the door alone.

You were oblivious to realise how Leah would frown every time she sees that you’re alone, or how she would shake her head when she watched you drag your feet in the morning.

And of course, she can see through you acting like a menace.

“I’m telling you Jord, there’s something seriously going on,” Leah brought up the conversation with her girlfriend again as they left training for the day, her own maternal instinct kicking in.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jordan attempted to reassure her girlfriend as they made their way over to the car, “The little one is old enough to be able to make her own way home now, anyways.” She added.

“Yeah, but Jord, I feel there’s something more going on,” Leah murmured, her hand resting on her slightly swollen belly, “You can’t deny that you don’t feel like there’s something suspicious going on?” She asked the older woman.

“I don’t know, Le,” Jordan admitted, shrugging her shoulders, “Do you think that maybe, and don’t bite my head off for suggesting this, but do you think you might just be overthinking things? I know you care about the little one, and I know you’re not happy with how everything happened, but…”

“No, Jord,” Leah replied, biting her bottom lip as she tossed her bag in the boot of the car, “I know what you might think, and it’s nothing to do with that. It just seems like something is going on, and I have a gut instinct about this. You know what that man came be like…”

There definitely was something wrong.

Leah couldn’t shake the feeling of something being off, every day she had to stand back and watch you, with that same nagging feeling that things weren’t quite right, and it only grew stronger.

The blondes’ worry only increased, especially on one particularly miserable day when the rain was pouring down – It was the kind of relentless downpour that would soak you to the bone within seconds of being outside – Leah was driving back home from a quick check-up with the physio’s when she spotted you trudging down the road.

You were completely drenched and shivering in the thin jacket that you wore, your kit bag slung over your shoulder as you tried to shield yourself from the rain with the attempt of a flimsy hood.

“What the actual hell…” Leah’s jaw dropped in shock, her eyes widening in disbelief as she couldn’t believe the sight that she was seeing in front of her.

You were there, walking alongside the road in the freezing rain with not a single adult in sight.

Without even thinking twice about it, Leah slowed her car down and pulled up beside you, “Monkey,” She rolled down the window and called your usual familiar nickname to get your attention, “Get in, I’m taking you home. It’s hammering it down and you’re going to get ill in this weather.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” You were quick to disagree, shaking your head as your teeth chattered from the freezing weather, “It’s not much further to walk now. I’m good.”

“Monkey, come on. Let me just give you a ride this once,” Leah was relentless in giving you a ride as she leaned over to open the passenger door, “You’re bound to get ill and I’m not going to let that happen. Your grandma would be swearing at me, wouldn’t she?”

You frowned at the mention of your grandma, even if you knew how true that was. Your grandma definitely would have something to say about that if she could see you know.

You were hesitant to agree to Leah’s offer. You didn’t want to give anything away but couldn’t deny her car’s warmth and safety, knowing it would be better than being out in the terrible weather.

“Okay,” You reluctantly gave in, sliding into the passenger seat as your teeth continued to chatter from the freezing temperatures, “Thanks,” You mumbled, trying to not meet her gaze as you stared down at your sodden trainers.

“It’s okay. You know you can get a lift of me anytime,” Leah said softly, cranking up the heating in the car to help keep you warm, not even needing to ask for your address since she’d been to your dad’s house numerous times before at the start before you started to push them both away, “So… Is there any particular reason you’re out walking alone in this weather?” She asked, trying to tread carefully and not spook you when asking questions.

“Oh, uh, my dad is working late so he couldn’t pick me up today,” You were quick to make up the excuse, knowing full well that if you asked your father for a lift home then he would have most likely laughed in your face.

Leah clicked her tongue in disagreement, “Right,” She murmured, strumming her fingers on the steering wheel, almost like she didn’t believe your words.

You barely believed them yourself.

“Listen, Monkey, you know if you ever need a ride to training or you know, back home… I don’t mind doing that again,” Leah began to talk, glancing over to try and see your reaction, “All you have to do is ask, alright? You know I’m here for you still. I’ll always be here. I made that promise to your grandma.”

“Thanks,” You murmured in a low tone of voice, although you weren’t quite sure if you would ever take her up on that offer.

Trust wasn’t something that came easily to you these days, and you had your walls built so high up around you that even Leah and Jordan, two people who had been in your life for the better part of the last several years, you found it hard to trust them.

It was the only way to protect yourself.

The next week at training, you end up being late again. This time though, you're not just dragging your feet but also feeling pale, and shaky, and you’re barely even able to stand up properly.

It’s not long before your vision has become blurred and you can feel yourself stumbling but before you drop to the floor, Leah’s there in an instant to catch you before you hit the ground.

“Whoa,” Leah held you steady in her arms as she guided you towards the bench in the changing room, “It’s okay. You’re alright. Come take a seat, yeah?” She told you, gently.

“M’ fine,” You murmured, feeling yourself being pushed down onto the hard bench, “M’ good.”

Leah, however, wasn’t so easily convinced, “No you’re not, Monkey. You can barely even stand up,” She paused, routing through her own bag to pull out a protein bar, “Here, eat this. Please.”

You didn’t hesitate to tear into it. The gnawing hunger finally eased up a little bit.

“Monkey,” Leah began as she looked at you in concern, “When was the last time you had a proper meal?” She asked in a soft tone of voice.

You hesitated to answer. Your mind scrambled to remember the last time that you sat down to eat something that wasn’t a hastily grabbed snack, “Uhm…” You stammered, the pause in your response telling Leah everything that she needed to know.

Leah sighed softly and crouched down to meet your eye level, “How about you come around our house for dinner tonight?” She suggested in her usual gentle tone of voice, “You still like pizza, don’t you? We could order that, watch a movie and just chill.”

“I… I don’t know,” You were sceptical to agree, fumbling with your fingers and fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie that you wore, “My dad’s at work, but… if I’m not back by a certain time then he’ll be worried about where I am.”

“I understand, but if your dad’s working then I don’t think he’ll mind you being with us, will he? You are keeping out of mischief then, eh?” Leah joked, lightly nudging you but the way you flinched at the sudden movement made her face flicker with concern, “How about… How about you just come for an hour? You can eat some pizza with us, and I’ll drive you home right after, yeah?”

“Okay, alright, but… just an hour though, I don’t want my dad to worry,” You begrudgingly agree with Leah, knowing that she wouldn’t let it go.

You couldn’t let your dad know where you were though. If he realised you were with Leah and Jordan then he would have hit the roof. He disliked them, for whatever reason and made it very clear that you weren’t to be around them.

It wasn’t that easy though considering you were now going to be in the same team as them.

“Deal,” Leah grinned, relief washing over her face with the promise of a warm meal and some company, even if it was just for an hour, it felt like a small victory in a battle she was determined to win.

“Jord? We’ve got a guest for dinner!” Leah called out, beaming a wide smile as she gently rested her hand on your shoulder, guiding you through the front door of their shared home.

You had never had the opportunity to come here before, but the way it was warm and welcoming was a different contrast to the cold, bleak and mould-infested house that you currently lived in.

Jordan had already made it home before Leah, having already apparently been given a heads up ahead of you coming to their house for dinner so the pizza was already on its way.

You were weary enough to be here, your anxiety felt sky-high in fear that your dad would find out where you were.

Of course, he wasn’t at work like you said, more like down the pub instead, so maybe he wouldn’t care if you were home or not at all?

“Hey, little one!” Jordan’s cheerful smile greeted you as she appeared around the corner, “Pizza’s on its way, why don’t we make our way into the living room and you can choose a film for us to watch?”

“Hi,” You felt like a complete stranger in their home, despite knowing them for several years, fumbling with the loose strings of your club-branded hoodie before Leah gestured for you to follow her into the living room.

“I’ve ordered cheese because of Miss Picky over here,” Jordan teased, pointing her index finger in the direction of Leah, “You okay with that?” She checked.

“It’s okay, I like cheese,” You told her as you settled into your spot on the sofa, and you couldn’t help but note the various baby items scattered throughout the living room. You suddenly felt a bit curious to ask questions, “Are you going to have a baby soon?” The words came out of your mouth before you could even stop them.

“We are,” Leah agreed, her smile gentle as she rested her hands on her growing bump, “It’s only another couple of months to go until we meet our little bubba.”

“Wow,” You murmured in amazement, and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat bitter about the news, “You two are having a baby?”

Weren’t you good enough to be wanted?

“Yeah, we are,” Jordan joined Leah on the sofa, her arm casually draped over the back of Leah’s seat, “We’re really excited to meet them,” She said with a fond smile, but she failed to see the frown that appeared on your face.

“Oh… that’s cool,” You murmured, unsure what else there was to say.

Thankfully, the moment was interrupted by the doorbell ringing which meant the pizza had arrived, and you wouldn’t have to talk anymore about the subject.

“I’ll go and grab that,” Jordan offered as she got up from the sofa, already walking ahead to the front door to retrieve the pizza.

“Monkey…” Leah wanted to ask how you were, but she was afraid to even say the right word at that moment, “You know…” Her words were cut off by Jordan walking back into the living room carrying pizza boxes.

“Pizza smells great,” Jordan interjected, placing it down on the table in the middle, “Help yourself little one. There’s plenty to go around.”

“Thanks,” You were sceptical to even eat a slice of pizza, but you had to remind yourself this house was different, and you couldn’t ignore the hunger you felt in your stomach, so you reached over and picked out a piece to eat.

True to her word, Leah drove you home an hour later. Of course, your dad wasn’t there when you arrived, the lights were off and you entered the empty, stark home where you lived.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?” Leah’s worry kicked in, the neighbourhood you lived in wasn’t that great, but you were used to it now, “You know, you can come back to ours. You could even spend the night if you wanted?”

As much as you’d have loved to have agreed, you couldn’t. Your dad would no doubt be home at some point later that night, and you knew you would be in trouble if he came home to an empty house.

“I’ll be alright. Thanks for the pizza,” You made a quick exit out of the car, rushing to the front door and opening the door to be hit with the all-too-familiar stale cigarettes and leftover beer.

“Bye, Monkey,” Leah murmured, that all too gut feeling returned that she couldn’t shake off as she drove off back home to Jordan.

You couldn’t let her know what was going on behind closed doors.

“Something is going on… More than what we know,” Leah brought up the conversation with Jordan again later that night as they got into bed, “I’m worried about her, Jord. Tell me you’re not worried about her as well?”

“Of course I am,” Jordan pulled back the duvet and settled in beside her, “You’re not imagining things, Le. There’s definitely something more going on behind closed doors that we don’t know about. She seems so… different. Like she’s on edge, and constantly scared.”

Leah turned to face Jordan, her brows furrowed with frustration and helplessness, “Then what do we do about it? We can’t just ignore it anymore,” She said, her voice wavering, “We both know there’s something wrong, we can’t just sit here and do nothing about it. I’ve stood by and let it happen for way too long– I know social services didn’t deem me capable of looking after her all them years ago, but I’m older now. I’m in a– We’re both in a better financial place to look after her.”

“I know, Le,” Jordan mumbled, exhaling a soft sigh as she wrapped her arms around the blonde and rested a hand on her bump, “I understand you’re worried, I get it babe, I do. I’m just as concerned about her as you are, but we can’t do anything without proof.”

“If anything happens to her, then I… I’ll never forgive myself,” Leah admitted, quietly.

Jordan nodded in agreement, “I know, all we can do for now is be there for the little one. Make sure that’s okay and nothing serious happens,” She said, “I know it’s difficult, and the social makes it impossible, but we’ll be there for her. Even if she doesn’t need us.”

“I… I don’t like this,” Leah mumbled, her mind still restless with thoughts as she lay there staring up at the ceiling with the weight of the spoken promise heavy on her shoulders, “I promised Jean I would take care of her. I’ll do whatever I can to protect our girl. I’ve never broken that promise, and I don’t intend to.” She vowed, ready to act when the time came.

Over the next several weeks, Leah and Jordan made a more conscious effort to keep an eye on you during the time you were training with them – You tried to push them away, but they always made sure to include you in the conversations and ask about how you were doing.

Leah would often always slip you a protein bar when she noticed you hadn’t eaten much, and Jordan would offer you a ride back home, no matter if you tried to refuse it or not.

As much as they both hated to admit it, there was nothing that they could do right now without proof of anything going on.

That was until one day when something more serious happened, and both Leah and Jordan were immediately alert of the situation when you didn’t show up to training at the same time like normal.

If anyone else had been late then they wouldn’t have batted an eye, but their gut instinct that there was something further couldn’t have been more right.

“Maybe she is just running late?” Jordan suggested, weary about it.

Leah’s brow furrowed, shaking her head as she attempted to phone you only for it to go to voice mail again, “She’s not answering her phone. This is unusual for her…” That was cause for concern itself, knowing how glued to your phone you are most of the time.

“She’s not answering her texts either?” Jordan asked.

“No…” Leah exhaled a deep sigh, running her hand through her hair as she attempted to make contact again, “Her phone keeps going to voicemail, and her texts just keep saying they’re left on delivered.”

“Oh,” Jordan mumbled, unsure what else there was to say that wouldn’t further panic Leah.

There was an uneasy feeling that neither of them could shake. When you finally stumbled in the state that you did, bruised and limping, it became clear that something far worse had happened.

“Right, now do you believe me something is going on?” Leah said, urgently, her eyes locking on Jordan’s with a mix of fear and frustration, gesturing towards you while she noticed the bruise on your cheek straight away and the way you favoured one leg, “I knew it. I knew there was something wrong! Nobody else believed me, I knew I was right!”

The concern and protectiveness that Leah had for you was something else.

“I do… I do believe you,” Jordan’s face fell in shock as she took in the sight of you, swallowing a lump that formed in her throat, “But… What do we do now?”

“I’m not standing back and letting it happen any longer, regardless of what social services think!” Leah said determined, her mind already made up, “I know you might think I’m crazy, and well maybe I am, but I want her to move in with us.”

Jordan was a bit more hesitant to agree to the idea, “I… I don’t know, Le. I know you love Monkey and you’re very protective of her, but well, we’re already going to have our hands full with the little ‘un on the way. Aren’t we?” She pointed out gently, trying to remind Leah of their current situation, “Do you really think it’s a good idea? A newborn baby and a teenager, I mean it’s a lot to take on.”

“I don’t care, we can manage it– We can find a way to handle it!” Leah was now more determined than ever with this decision, “I… I know it’s a lot, but I refuse to just sit back and do nothing about this now, Jord. Monkey needs us, Jord, and if we don’t help her then, who will?”

Jordan exhaled a deep sigh, running her hand through her hair as she weighed out the gravity of Leah’s plea, she knew her girlfriend’s heart was in the right place, but the practicality of the situation still loomed large, “Le…”

“Jord,” Leah began to speak, “I made a promise to Jean, I promised her I wouldn’t let him hurt her, and if I don’t do anything now then… then I’ve just failed, haven’t I?”

“Okay,” Jordan finally gave in reluctantly, knowing there was no point in trying to argue about it with her stubborn girlfriend, who had already made her mind up about this - After all, it would be a bad idea to try and disagree with a pregnant lady, “Alright, fine. If this is what you really want to do then I’m on board with it.”

“I do, I really do want to do this,” Leah’s expression softened, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over her as she reached out to squeeze Jordan’s hand, “Thank you! Thank you! I just… I can’t turn my back on her, not now. She needs a safe place, a real home now. She can have that with us.”

“I know, Le,” Jordan said, her grip on Leah’s hand tightening, “I know, and we’ll make it work, whatever it takes– We’ll figure it out together as a team.”

Leah nodded and gave her girlfriend a genuine smile, “As a team,” She repeated, squeezing her hand in reassurance, “Just get ready for the chaos.” She joked.

“Oh with a newborn baby and teenager under one roof? I couldn’t think of anything more chaotic,” Jordan replied playfully, pulling her girlfriend in closer, “But it could also be kind of fun, right?”

“You and I have different versions of fun,” Leah teased, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes, “But yeah, it might just be the best sort of crazy we’ve ever signed up for.”

Getting your dad to agree was surprisingly easier than it should have been. It was a somewhat mutual decision, in the way that he was more than willing to wash his hands off you, and he was so disinterested in you that you swear you saw a genuine smile appear on his face for the first time since you moved in with him.

An actual genuine smile on his face which made you sad about the fact that your dad really couldn't care less about you.

Maybe it was the fact that he never got the son he so badly wanted?

“Have her then,” The man sneered, “I’ve washed my hands off her, she’s your problem now.”

His parting words stung a lot and while Leah’s hands clenched in anger, Jordan’s arm around her kept her grounded.

Leah’s eyes were blazing with anger, “You’re unbelievable,” She spat out, her tone sharp and unfiltered, “Mark, you’ve got a kid right in front of you– A kid who’s done nothing but try to survive despite you, and all you can do is shrug her off like she’s nothing? You can’t don’t even have the decency to pretend to care!”

Jordan just held Leah’s hand tighter, her silent support a calm anchor in the storm of emotions, “Let’s go, Le,” She urged softly, though her gaze was cold and unforgiving as it lingered on your father.

Leah’s anger didn’t fade, if anything, it deepened as she looked at the man who had treated you like a burden instead of his flesh and blood, “She’s not some problem to be handed off. She’s not a mistake that you can ignore. She’s a kid, she’s your kid, and the way you’ve been treating her is disgusting!”

Your dad scoffed as if was barely affected by Leah’s words, “Yeah? Well, she’s your problem now, so good luck,” He repeated in a gruff voice, “I don’t want anything to do with the brat.”

Leah’s jaw tightened, the venom in his words made her stomach churn in disgust. She opened her mouth to say more, but Jordan gently tugged at her arm with a silent reminder that nothing else could be said that would change the man in front of them.

Turning away from your dad, Leah relented as her expression softened when she looked at you, but the fire in her eyes never dimmed, “Let’s just go.”

“Come on, little one,” Jordan protectively guided you out of the house with her arm wrapped around you, Leah and Jordan helped gather the small amount of belongings that you had in this house and left, “Let’s get you out of here. Let’s get you home.”

You should have felt an instant relief leaving that house. But instead, you just felt incredibly sad that the dad who you had grown up with the last five years, regardless of how much a neglectful bastard he was, was and always would still be your dad.

A part of you foolishly hoped that one day he’d see you, really see you, and want you around.

But that never did happen though.

“I know this won’t be easy for you to adjust Monkey,” Leah noticed the flicker of sadness in your eyes and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “But you’re not alone now, okay? We’re here and we’re not going anywhere. You’re safe, you’re safe here with us.”

Jordan nodded in agreement, giving you a small encouraging smile, “Le’s right, little one. We’ve got you,” She told you gently, “Whatever you need, whenever you need us. We’re here.”

And from there on, you were about to gain the family that you’d always deserved - A real home, with Leah and Jordan, who cared a hell of a lot about you to fight for you, even when the world seemed to have given up.

#monkey #double the trouble fic #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #woso x reader #woso one shot #scribblesofagoonerr #woso fanfics #woso imagine

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commandershepardvasfuckit · 2 days ago

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An Arranged Marriage, part 29

1.6k words

Zen was back to being Zen, though the affection shared between the two of you was often tinged with frustration from him.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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You sat next to Zen by the hearth and marveled at his hand while he wrote. Every movement so precise as he penned his letter to his family.

“Making sure I am not leaving anything out?” Zen teased you.

As far as you could tell his handwriting was very tidy, each character perfectly aligned and spaced out evenly. You could not read a word of it but were still enjoying watching him.

“I can’t believe how delicate you are with only three fingers” you said.

“Only three? I cannot understand how you can do anything without your extra fingers getting in the way.”

“No! Five is a good amount to have! Three isn’t enough.”

“I did not hear any complaints about my hand and fingers when I had one in you.”

You buried your face into the side of his arm and he leaned over a bit to nuzzle the top of your head.

“How long will it take for the letter to get there?” you asked.

“It will depend on who I can find to take it. There are some minotaur hunting groups that travel close to my village that I could send it with, but that would probably take weeks. And there are fisherman from my village who sail down this way sometimes to sell anything extra they catch, that is a more direct way to get the letter home, but they only dock here sporadically.”

“And when did you want to go visit?”

“Next month. There is quite an important festival then. Though we may actually get there before the letter then, which would not be ideal” he let out a deep sigh, “I will figure this out, somehow.”

Days flew by much the same way they had for the past week. Zen snuggled up against you whenever he could, lots of your free time spent lounging together while you each did your own thing. It was comfortable.

He made no attempt to initiate anything more than cuddling. His hands lingered on you in the bath, little sighs and whimpers as you felt him half hard against your back, though he often had a nervous and frustrated air about him. You would turn to press the side of your face to his chest and hug on to him, the affection always seeming to settle him down.

Often you caught him looking at you with almost a sad expression, sick of waiting and too worried to start again.

It was still early in the day. Zen was off at the hold, going over supply manifests and trying to figure out how to get what little supplies where scrounged out to the more remote settlements.

Slowly you started helping with the house work more and more. Back at home you never had to do anything, but here it was just you and Zen. You were sweeping up the entryway, Zen did his best to not track dirt in but being that trolls did not wear shoes meant that some always got in anyways.

Usually he would come in and wipe off his feet. Bringing in a bucket of fresh water from the well outside with him and cleaning off with a clean washcloth from the stash of them he kept by the door. Still, dirt or mucky footprints made it in the house and you had taken up the responsibility of dealing with that since Zen really did everything else.

There was a loud knock on the door as you were finishing wiping up a footprint that startled you. You were fairly certain Bira was out of town and you normally did not have other visitors.

Slowly you cracked open the door and were surprised to find Ba’tual looking fairly agitated.

“Oh, what are you-” was all you managed before he cut you off.

“There’s some human at the hold demanding to talk to you right now. He’s refusing to tell Zen or anyone else what it’s about or leave” he told you.

“Did he say his name?”

“Probably, but I wasn’t called in until Zen asked me to come get you, so I don’t know who he is.”

“Yeah, ok, yeah I’ll meet you guys at the hold then. Just let me actually get dressed” you said has you tried to piece it all together and figure out who could be demanding to speak to you.

“Zen specifically told me to escort you there, he doesn’t want you walking alone.”

Ba’tual waited outside while you got dressed and kept a close eye on you as the two of you made your way to the hold. It was a tense walk all the way there, Ba’tual did not seem to have any answers for you besides there was a human there making a scene and demanding to talk to you.

Zen looked visibly agitated when the two of you got to the hold. He was pacing the room with a annoyed expression on his face, nearly a snarl until he saw you. Immediately his expression softened and he rush over to you, placing a large hand on the back of your head as he crouched down to be eye level with you and nuzzled your forehead.

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked as you nuzzled him back.

“Him” Zen nearly spat.

You peered around Zen to see a human man standing at the edge of the room dressed in your kingdom’s navy uniform. You recognized the man, a petty officer who served under your father and unfortunately someone you knew besides just that.

“What are you doing here?” you asked as the man approached.

“Call off your attack dogs” he sneered and motioned to both Zen and Ba’tual, “I’m here to take you home. And what are you wearing?”

You looked to Zen and Ba’tual who were both hovering close to you, “I can handle him, just give me a little space?”

Neither seemed to like this, but both took a few steps back.

You looked down at your outfit, it was pretty typical clothing for here. A knee length skirt tied around your hips and simple halter top style shirt, both in a soft forest green.

“Home? I am home. And this is perfectly normal for here” you defended.

“It is not suitable or appropriate for a lady of your status to be dressed like that, a poor representation of your family. Not that it matters, we’re leaving now.”

“No” you said firmly, “This is my home, my husband is here. This is where I belong.”

“Husband? That absolute beast? This charade has gone on long enough and served its purpose. Big things are in the works so it’s time to leave. Now.” he took a step towards you and went to grab your wrist.

It always amazed you how fast Zen could move, immediately he was between you and the other man.

“She already told you she was not going with you. You would do well to mind that” Zen’s voice uncharacteristically cold.

The man peered around Zen, “You’re making a massive mistake, this isn’t where you belong.”

“No I think it is” you said.

“Ba” called Zen, “Escort him back to his ship.”

Ba’tual gave him a nodded. Zen stopped him as he passed, placing a hand on his shoulder and telling him something in troll. Ba’tual motioned to several of the guards and they made their way out of the hold.

“You spoke as though you knew him” Zen said.

“Yeah, a while I told you my family promised me to the son of another family if he could make a name for himself in the navy. Well, that was him.”

“He does not seem like a good person. I do not like that an arranged marriage could have stuck you with someone like that.”

“I know, and you don’t have to like it. But it’s how it is where I’m from and it’s not wrong, it’s just different. Plus, we’re in an arranged marriage and it turned out good, didn’t it?”

“That’s different” he muttered.

“How so? Because both of us were told we were getting married and that was that.”

“I believe I am a better person than him.”

“And you are, that’s for sure. But I didn’t know that when I got here. I met a man who was grumpy, didn’t speak to me at all when getting married, left me home alone for hours, and then snapped at me for things I did know.”

“And I have apologized and done better” he interjected.

“You have, but it doesn’t change the fact you were a stranger to me and I didn’t get a good first impression of you, and everything still turned out well” you tugged him back down to your level to nuzzle him and give him a kiss on the cheek, “And what did you tell Ba’tual?”

“To make sure our visitor goes straight back to his ship, no detours, and to take a few guards to sweep the city for anyone who should not be here.”

“Do you think that was really necessary?”

“You did not see how he was talking and acting before you got here. I do not trust him. I am not taking any chances with keeping you safe. I failed in that once, I will not make the same mistakes again.”

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Tag list

@blushycadaver @mochalyluv @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @krayziee @zaqnette @graveblanketgreen @lovingbadguys @nogoatsnoglori @bunnibabylilly @selfindulgenthoe @dij-ology

(As per usual, mobile loves to mess with the tag list 😭 sorry if your tag didn’t work! I’ll fix it later when I’m home and on my pc!)

#monster fucker #teratophillia #monster lover #terato #monster x reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster husband #reader x troll

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targayrenss · 2 days ago

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.the perfect gift-eddie munson

(weird gf series)

Author's note: I love blythe dolls and I really want a custom one, I thought about them while writing this, I tried not to describe her too much so you can imagine her as you do <3

Eddie knew your huge doll collection perfectly, the first time he walked into your room that was the first thing he saw.

“Wow honey, do you have a daughter I don’t know about?”

You explained to Eddie that the first of the entire collection was one that your father had given you for your fourth birthday.

After that you found a fascination with dolls, some people tend to think that the way you dress and act is because you didn’t receive love as a child or some shit like that.

But in reality your parents loved you a lot, especially your dad, he had given you most of the dolls that adorned your shelves.

“Dad gave me a personalized doll once for my birthday, my brother ripped off its head, I cried for months even kept the head, now it looks cool I guess”

Eddie listened attentively to your little story as you pointed at the doll head, he could see that it resembled you only a few different things that you had changed about yourself while discovering your style.

That story gave him the best idea in the world.

He was like crazy looking all over Hawkins for someone who could help him but apparently there were no places that could give him the help he needed, so he did it himself.

He bought a doll at the thrift store, asked Dustin's mom for help to learn how to sew and that's how he gave you the best birthday present.

All his friends were gathered at your house, eating cake while chatting when Eddie came back with a box in his hands.

“Well birthday girl I think it's time for presents”

He handed you the box while you looked at him with a silly smile

“I said no presents eds”

He rolled his eyes “just open it”

You laughed as you opened the box, your smile quickly disappeared as you looked at the contents.

Eddie looked at you anxiously waiting for a reaction from you.

“So what do you think?”

A small scream came out of you, you couldn't believe your eyes.

Your brothers and friends looked at you in confusion.

“What is it?”

You took out the doll, careful not to hurt it.

“It’s me.”

It was a mini you, your skin color, the huge eyes that this style of doll usually has, but with your eye color. The doll had all your piercings and tattoos. You looked at the drawings that simulated the ink that adorned your body. By instinct, you lifted her dress, seeing that she had even drawn the invisible tattoos that you have. Everything was perfectly detailed.

You looked at Eddie with your puppy eyes, you put the doll back in its box and then stood up, approaching Eddie.

You gave him a small kiss on the lips. “It’s the best gift I’ve received in years. Thank you very much, Eddie.”

You and Eddie were laying on your bed just hanging out.

Your eyes found the mini you on your doll shelf “do you think when I die my soul will be locked inside it? It would be nice if you could take me everywhere like that”

Eddie laughed as he gave you a small kiss on the head “shit, I can’t imagine that”

You raised your head to look at him “but you would still love me right?”

He just laughed as he nodded “for you I would put my soul inside a chucky”

You kissed his silly smile “that will keep me calm until I die”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson x weird girlfriend #Eddie munson x weird gf #Eddie munson x alt reader

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resident-idiot-simp · 2 days ago

Text

Origins but I have Wade kill Victor

(x)

James didn't mean to get attached to Wade but his charm was undeniable and he was the first person he had ever met that didn't fear him. His presence was addictive, his joy infectious.

Wade was undeniably endearing and James couldn't help but like the fool. Wilson would go out of his way just to hang around him and James couldn't bring himself to run the fool off.

The more time they spent around one another the harder it was to deny their growing relationship. James didn't realize until it was too late until Victor was pulling him off of Wade and snarling I'm his face.

"I've had about enough of this runt." Victor snarled. James sees Wade jump up with a sneer on his face, "What the hell is your problem Creed?!" Wade challenged.

"My problem is the runt is getting far too cozy with the likes of you." Victor snarled at Wade who scowled. "Let me go Victor." James growled at his brother who just glared at him. James felt as claws sank into his nape and he yelped and tried to twist out of the man's grip.

Wade realized a moment later what happened and snarled as he pulled one of his knives and sliced at Victor. The man snarled as he jerked away from the blade and his grip loosened enough for James to escape.

James grabbed and sliced with his own claws at the hand that shot out to throttle Wade. "Don't you dare." James growled, ignoring the growing number of onlookers. Victor just continued fighting and turned to slice once again at James.

He took the hit but broke Victor's arm in retaliation. Wade stabbed Victor in the side and dodged another swipe. James was thrown to the ground and Victor lunged at him with a snarl. Wade didn't think as he kicked the man off James and reached to grab his katana that had been laying a few feet away.

He didn't think as Victor lunged again, claws digging into James's chest. Didn't think as blood flowed from James's mouth. Didn't think as he sliced at Victor's head.

He didn't think as head was parted from body. Didn't think as the fucker died on the spot.

He only realized what he did after he saw the horror in James' eyes and the limp body fell onto him as blood flowed.

Only then did Wade drop his katana And push the body off of James. He realized he might have fucked up, but couldn't bring himself to care as he drug the man to his chest and held him tightly.

"Are you ok?" Wade asked worriedly. James didn't answer, just clung to him shaking. He was definitely in shock and Wade just sighed. He would be ok thanks to his healing factor but that didn't solve any other issues.

The other watching didn't say a word as they stared at the beheaded body. It was only moments later that Stryker appeared face thunderous. He however stopped short at the scene in front of him.

Wade locked wide frantic eyes with him and the Colonel stayed silent. Stryker had seen how Victor treated his brother and it was.... something. He often wondered if it was worth the trouble of keeping him around considering how disgusting it was. He knew full and well this wasn't a murder Victor had definitely deserved it, but that doesn't mean he was pleased.

Victor was one of his best and would do anything he was tasked with. Losing him was a big hit especially since he was what kept James around. However it looked like if he played this right he could keep James with minimal issues.

Wade hadn't looked away as he had decided what to do. He sighed and looked away. They could handle this on their own; there was no need for him to get involved.

Wade seemed pleased enough with this as he drug James up and started making his way back to the man's quarters. The quicker he was no longer drenched in blood the better. He glared back at the others in a silent command to clean up the mess.

It wasn't close to sexual as Wade cleaned the blood off James in the showers and dressed him in fresh clothes. James didn't speak for the rest of the night he layed curled into Wade's side. James hated himself for the fact he had never felt safer as Wade let him sleep practically on top of him.

James didn't know when he woke up but it was still dark. He was still curled up on top of Wade. He doesn't realize he's crying until Wade starts to stir.

"Hey kitty what's wrong?" Wade asks as he runs a hand through James's hair. James honestly didn't know why but he couldn't stop. Wade just messaged at his scalp and he babbled about nothing. James just buried his face in the other man's neck.

"Thank you." He mumbles into skin and Wade pauses for a moment. "No problem kitty cat." He said with an audible smile and James knew he meant it. Neither knew when they drifted back off.

The others awoke to the sight of James purring in his sleep from where he was atop the other man. While Wade snored away peacefully tangled up with James.

The change was slow and neither realized as they grew into something more. Everyone else knew before they did, but in their defense this was new to them. A truly meaningful relationship that wasn't abusive in some way. It was foreign.

Both of them grew closer and closer without thought and when the relationship evolved neither realized they hadn't kissed before. Neither realized they didn't spend all their time with one another before. Neither realized they worked better together then apart.

They were together in every sense of the word and it was no different from the start to them. They were one in the same, always together, always talking. No one even realized when they became the center of the team.

The rock in an ever-changing tide.

Stryker could do nothing and he sheathed as they refused to fall for his tricks. He could see them drifting out of his orbit and he was powerless.

When they left they took everything with them and Stryker knew no matter what he tried it would fail. He has seen people try to come between them because it ended in a bloody and gruesome death. He didn't have Victor to hunt them down and without them the team lost interest in his goals. They realized he was after a fruitless goal and got out while they could.

They had seen it was possible to escape and did while they could.

Stryker just plotted

Tags: @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

#deadclaws #deadclaw #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #deadpool x wolverine #wade wilson #wade x logan #logan howlett #wolverine #poolverine #x men origins wolverine #origins wade wilson #origins deadpool #origins deadclaws #origins poolverine #Resi's shorts

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staryscorner · 2 days ago

Text

Beautiful

Paring: Bartender Nam-Gyu x Heartbroken Fem reader

After a tough break up the last thing you wanted to do was go out and meet others, but your friend had other plans

“Y/N!! I know you're in here." Your friend said barging into you home since she has a spare key.

"Let's go clubbing so you can stop moping around.” She said in a cheery voice.

“I don't feel like it Y/F/N (Your friend's name)” You looked at your friend sighing.

“Welp, I'm going to get you out of here if it's the last thing I do!” As they pulled you out of bed and getting your best dress and heels ready.

As they dragged you out of your house they just kept talking about how they better find their lucky person tonight.

Once you got there things were normal just hanging by the bar and chatting until someone walked up to your friend and asked if they wanted to dance with them. Your friend looked over at you letting you know that they were going to go with them for a bit. You just nodded as you watched them disappear into the crowd of people. Then you were all alone. It was just you and the bartender. So you decided to pass the time by just drinking.

“Miss, don't you think you might have had too much to drink” The bartender asked as he hesitating to give you the next round of shots you asked him for.

“Just give me the shots Mr Bartender I just want to drink my pains away. " You said slurring your speech.

“By the way what’s your name” you asked him noticing you haven't gotten his name yet

“Nam-gyu”

“You can call me Y/N

“Well Nam-gyu, my now ex boyfriend broke up with me because I was to ugly. Can you believe that” You said, having tears forming in your eyes.

“I dont think your ug-” He was interrupted by some guy trying to get with you.

“Hey baby, why don't you come and have some fun with me? You look lonely tonight” He said, giving you a smirk.

You were to drunk to even know what you were doing so he took that as a yes but before he could take you Nam-gyu grabbed his hand

“Don't grab her like that she's with me” He said trying to sound intimidating but he was a little scared himself

The guy knew that he was close friends with the owner of the club and didn't want to get kicked out but before he left he looked at you and said

“I never wanted anything to do with an ugly person like you”

All that emotions you had inside you came out and you just broke down in front of Nam-gu

“S-so I really AM UGLY”

Nam-gyu couldn't believe his eyes. You the most beautiful girl he had ever met was saying she was ugly

“Y/N you aren't ugly don't you dare say that about yourself! If you really think you’re ugly then you're making a fool out of me since I think you're the most beautiful person in the entire world!”

You just stopped and looked at him

“Really?” you said sniffling and drying your eyes

“Yes really” As he leaned in to kiss your forehead

Before you could say anything you blacked out and not long after you woke up in your apartment and saw your friend laying on the floor. Was that a dream or did he really call me beautiful as you got up you felt something poking your front pocket. It was a business card which had a phone number and a name

“Nam-gyu”

“So it really wasn't a dream” you smiled to yourself softly.

Nam-gyu is such a CUTIE!!! But I hope that you all like this post!! ^^

#x reader #one shot #fluff #fanfic #squid game s2 #nam gyu #player 124 #heart break #CUTIE #drinking #alcohol

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blessedbyahuntress · 14 hours ago

Text

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Twenty-Four: Well, Fuck

Prev/Next

A/N: I was reminded about how much I love this song while writing this! Totally wasn't dancing around my room to this song before school. Nope.

Warnings: Blood, sword-fight

Word Count: 837

Listen to: Mutiny (I recommend just listening to the first part, but you do you)

When you awoke, you were still on deck, bathed in a pool of your own blood- golden ichor instead of red.

Your head was pounding, yet you found it to be easy to sit up. The world spun for a moment, then settled back to normal. You let out a deep breath, glancing around, only to see practically the whole crew watching you. You flinched back at their stares.

“How long was I out?” You muttered.

Polites was the first to make a move, crouching down beside you to place a hand on your forehead. “You weren’t out at all, Y/N,” he said kindly. “At least- it was too short for you to be fully unconscious.”

“What?” All of the men took a step back in what seemed like unison. One person pointed a finger at your figure.

You looked down, yelping in surprise when you saw your own wounds stitching themselves together, new skin going to overlap the wounded and torn.

You lifted your gaze back up, locking eyes with Eurylochus. The sheer fury in them made your heart beat faster. “Eurylochus-”

“Tell me you did not know that would happen.” The second in command turned on his heel, glare finding Odysseus, who was standing a bit farther from the rest of the group. “Say you didn’t know how that would end.”

He took a step forward, and Odysseus turned his head away. “I didn’t mean-”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me, captain,” Eurylochus interrupted. “That you did not just try to sacrifice Y/N!” The second in command began pacing back and forth, hands massaging his temples as he spoke. “Use your wits to try and say I’m crazy and mad, that this is all some trick the gods have sent!” He paused, eyes desperate as he searched Odysseus’s, gaze pleading for the captain to interrupt and say just that. When he apparently didn’t find what he was looking for, he resumed. “Tell me you did not miss home so painfully bad, that you tried to give up the life of your best friend!”

Eurylochus started counting on his fingers, words tumbling out even faster as he gave a quick look at you from over his shoulder. “When we fought the cyclops, you were quick to hatch a plan! And when we fought we Circe, it was you who left behind no man! But when we fought this monster, we didn’t take a stand.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it. “We just ran!”

He finally stopped ranting, planting himself in front of Odysseus. “Say something!”

“I can’t!” Odysseus yelled back, expression mixed with sadness, regret, and perhaps a bit of confusion.

Eurylochus looked down, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes as he drew his sword. “Then you have forced my hand.”

“Eurylochus!” You cried, lunging forward as if you could stop what was about to happen. “Stop! Lower your weapon!”

“No can do,” the second in command said coldly without a glance at you. He kept his attention trained on Odysseus. “You miss your wife so bad, you’d trade the lives of your own crew.”

The captain rested a hand on the hilt of his weapon. “Don’t make me fight you, brother. You know you’d have done the same.”

Eurylochus looked both disgusted and outraged at the idea as he leaped toward Odysseus. “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!”

“Eurylochus,” you begged as he clashed his sword against Odysseus’s. “Please… just stop. We can find a way that doesn’t end like this.”

The man froze, torn between obeying you and his rage on Odysseus. The captain took the opportunity to kick Eurylochus to the ground, using his sword to knock the second in command’s weapon out of his hands. It went skittering across the floorboards, stopping right in front of you. Your expression darkened as you used the sword to prop yourself up, Polites arm wrapped around your waist to help you rise to your feet.

As soon as you could stand properly, you abandoned Polites, taking small, silent steps as you moved behind Odysseus.

“I am not letting you get in my way!” You heard Odysseus screech, bringing down his blade.

You moved swiftly, embedding the weapon deep into his thigh. You watched as Odysseus groaned, falling to his knees. You moved around to the front so that he could see you, and the blade that was now covered in his blood. “My sister,” Odysseus started. “Why?”

Your lips pursed, but you didn’t look away. “How am I supposed to trust you now?” You demanded. “Now, your time has come, your luck’s run out.” You felt the rest of the crew gathering behind your back, showing that you had their support. “Now, the time has come to shut you down.”

You leaned down, your voice dropping a bit. “You relied on wit, and I almost died on it.”

You brought your boot down on his face, stomping him into unconsciousness.

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041 @thereigningking @m-carriaga2021 @jackintheboxs-world @fallenh34art @itzkingbo @sabrina-senpai @smartiepants217 @doodle-with-rhy @trashcannotbealive@uselessmoonlight@permanently-nothere@keikeiluvyou @followingthefanfiction @scarletdfox

#epic the musical #epic musical #epic odysseus #polites #blessed by a trickster #epic fandom #epic the musical x reader #epic the musical the thunder saga #epic the thunder saga #eurylochus #eurylocus x reader #polites x reader #odysseus #hermes #Hermes x reader

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haikyu-mp4 · 1 day ago

Text

The Stars

word count; 992 – f!reader, part 2 of this

Everything fell into place on the last day you spent working on the project. Of course, you still had to make the clothes, but that part could wait for now. Oikawa looked down at the project book like it was his greatest creation.

"I'll be honest, I feel like it's an A," he announced with a confident nod. He looked over at you, taking a moment to admire the tired but satisfied look on your face. Finally, you could lower your shoulders a little. At least the first step was finished.

"I still have to make the clothes," you said and turned to him. It flustered you that he was already looking at you, but you still couldn't take your eyes off him. "But I have a good feeling too." His hair looked so soft that you had the urge to run your hands through it. You two had spent a lot of hours in total sitting quite close to each other and trying to ignore how the tips of your ears were red and how your hands sometimes rested beside each other yet not close enough for your liking.

You held eye contact for a few seconds longer before you finally tore away, clearing away the supplies and journal into your bag. Oikawa tried to help, but you both had to laugh softly as he only made it more difficult. A comfortable silence fell over you until you walked out of the library.

"Will you join me for a walk?" Oikawa asked, doe-eyes giving you no choice but to smile and nod. Luckily, your bag wasn't that heavy, so you welcomed a walk under the stars after sitting inside for so long. Being joined on that walk by this incredibly handsome man wasn't exactly an issue either.

The silence hung over you as your hands brushed lightly against each other. Oikawa looked down at you with a sheepish smile before taking your hand in his with one fell swoop. You knew you were smitten with the sweet man who made you laugh while trying to study and helped you with projects that weren't his responsibility at all. It was inevitable.

However, you were eventually pulled out of the dreamy trance when a man jogged past, only to look at you in passing and stop abruptly. "Shittykawa?" Oikawa turned to look at him, grinning and not letting go of your hand. Instead, you could swear he held it tighter.

"Iwa-chan!" Said man gave Oikawa a seemingly friendly punch to the shoulder to which your date complained. "This is y/n, the fashion designer," he introduced, making you bite your lip to keep from grinning. Did he talk about me?

"Oh! Nice to meet you." You shook hands briefly. "I'm Iwaizumi. Did you finish the project?" Oikawa felt his cheeks heat up when he realised how obvious it was that he talked a lot about it. About you.

"We did, it came out great," Oikawa bragged to the other man. "Now we just have to make the clothes," he repeated what you said earlier. Your eyes lit up, so he wants to keep working on it with me.

"You're going to sow?" Iwa pointed at Oikawa and laughed, making him look much more friendly than when he first approached. Chuckling at his doubtfulness, you lifted the hand that Oikawa wasn’t holding to cover your mouth.

"I'm a planner. The brains, if you will," he answered, and you had to keep covering your mouth as you gasped at him. Using your intertwined hands to point at Oikawa, you shook your head incredulously.

"The brains? Don't you need a functioning brain for that?" you teased. Oikawa’s heart fluttered at the innocent teasing. Iwaizumi kept observing you two, noticing the look on his best friend's face. He had to laugh a little at your comeback, but it seemed that you both forgot he was even there when looking at each other.

"I guess I can settle for being your assistant." Oikawa quickly gave in, making your eyes widen in surprise, not expecting the sweet sentiment.

"Well, good luck with finishing it, y/n. Having him as an assistant probably doubles the workload," Iwaizumi chuckled at his own joke, and you nodded in agreement. "Talk to you later!" The man was just about to leave, feeling his sweat turning cold, but Oikawa stopped him.

"Wait! Can you take a picture of us?" he asked, not actually letting him decline. Iwaizumi pulled out his phone and you looked up at Oikawa, blushing. Oikawa looked back at you, his pretty face relaxed, soft eyes taking in every detail on your face. His smile prompted you to do the same while keeping eye contact, once again forgetting everything else. Iwaizumi took a few pictures, trying his best to stand still.

"He's freezing, Toru. Why the pictures?" you asked, gesturing to the other man.

"Just look at the camera with me, please?" You gave in quickly and smiled at the phone in Iwaizumi’s hand. Your arms were entangled, hands holding tightly onto the other.

"I'll send them when I get home, bye guys!" Iwaizumi was finally let go and jogged away in the direction he was going initially.

"I like pictures," Oikawa shrugged and started walking. You followed, content with his answer.

For the next twenty minutes, you walked around the area and ended up back by the school. As you stood by the frozen fountain, your eyes did that thing again where they couldn't look away from each other. After sniffling from the cold air seeping into your nose, you sighed. "Thank you for the walk. It was nice."

"We should do it again sometime," Oikawa declared. His voice was low, almost husky, and it drove you crazy. In only a second, he had leaned down and captured your lips in a brief, sweet kiss. His hand came up to stroke a thumb over your cheek. "Goodnight, y/n."

"Goodnight, Toru."

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

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hmshermitcraft · 2 days ago

Note

Cleo hated the beach with a passion, her rotted flesh always seemed to feel bloated when it was in water for more than a few minutes, and sand would always get in between their stitches, but then after Pearl and Scotts big fight, Scott decided to move to a beach house on a small island and now it looked like Cleo would be spending a lot more time surrounded by sand and water.

The first few months she kept blowing off visits, making excuse after excuse to not go see him. They loved Scott, that was clear in her every interaction with him, but she didn’t want anything to do with the beach. It was only after Martyn’s insistent begging, guilt tripping, threats, and silent treatment, that Cleo finally gave in and agreed to go see Scott.

The trip to the beach was fine, until Martyn led them to a small boat. Cleo immediately took a step back, brown boots sinking deeper into the sand as she glared at the boat. “I am not going on that.” They said firmly, crossing their arms.

“Yes you are.” Martyn snapped back and grabbed her by the arm, attempting to drag her forwards. But to his dismay they were too heavy, and all he’d done was tug on her sleeve. “Cleo you promised.” He said sternly, crossing his arms in a matching movement. “Scotts not doing well, and as his friends it’s our duty to check up on him.

Martyn’s tone made Cleo crack a smile, sighing exasperatedly. “When did you become so responsible?” They asked with dismay rolling their eyes as she allowed Martyn to pull her onto the boat. She sat with a huff as Martyn started the engine and the two slowly chugged across the water.

The water kept splashing onto them, and while Martyn just laughed with each splash, Cleo groaned, putting her head in her hands. When they were within view of Scotts island she caught sight of him sat on the beach, and the way his face lit up when he spotted the two of them she knew Martyn was right, not that she’d ever tell him that.

Once the boat hit the sand Scott flung himself onto it, tackling Cleo in a hug. She let out a scream as the two of them toppled over the edge of the boat and into the sand, but Scott couldn’t hear it over Martyn’s cackling. They just groaned as Scott finished the hug and pulled her to a standing position, before brushing off as much sand as possible.

“Don’t get too handsy with my soulmate,” Martyn laughed as he came to stand next to Cleo. “We might be here to visit you but don’t think I won’t kick your ass.” Scott rolled his eyes and the three held hands, Scott excitedly leading the two of them into his home and pointing out everything they passed.

Cleo had to admit that maybe this trip wouldn’t be so bad, there was plenty to do around here and Martyn and Scott could always keep her company. Maybe the sand was bearable for her best friend, maybe she’d even put up with a short swim if it meant seeing Scott smile… and Martyn shirtless.

Cleo gets to sit with Scott, pressed against his side, and gossip about Martyn like he's a hot guy in a magazine. Which he should be, FYI, he hides a very nice body under that baggy t-shirt or big coat. And no, it's not just Cleo and Scott being biased. If anything, they're even better judges!

That alone would make the trip worth it, but the way Scott and Martyn pamper her once they retreat to safety (Scott's house) makes it even better. A full massage to ease the bloating and sore skin, careful care to dislodge all the stuck grains of sand... They know how to make a zombie feel like they're walking on clouds.

Cleo guesses they can do this again. If her boys are going to treat her so nicely.

#trafficshipping #ask #cleo tag #scott tag #martyn tag #zombiewood #scottyn #majorwood #scleo #queerplatonic #mod 🎀#z0mbiew00d #weekly theme: at sea

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awordsmith · 12 hours ago

Text

drowning on the edge 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in an attempt to help each other move on from the death of your previous lovers, you and Spencer unknowingly form an unhealthy relationship.

who? spencer x unknown!reader when? s8 category: angst content warnings: (was suppose to be angst to fluff lol) happy–open–ending (kind of), loss of a significant other, maeve!spencer, heartbreak, therapy-cemetary-funeral-depression-anxiety mentions, friendship breaking, slight dissociation, toxic relationship, i urge you, cara, to reid with care... word count: 12.1k a/n: i was going to add reader suicide attempt, but i lowkey forgot to look at my notes while writing and well, i don't want to mess with this because i love it too much, so maybe i'll attempt it later lol enjoy cari...

In the shadowed corner of a midnight room, emotions overpowered the scent of a candle burning. You lay across your bed, tear-stricken and zombie-like. The day’s events replayed in your mind, though your thoughts seemed to only care about recalling one scene. One that would no doubt haunt you for the rest of your life. You couldn’t eat or sleep–when you closed your eyes he was there. You didn’t have an ounce of peace.

How was it fair? You kept asking yourself. You couldn’t be thankful for the lives saved because it took his. You tried and said you were, but it wasn’t how you truthfully felt. You flipped onto your side as M—, your friend came into the room. “Hey…” she whispered, hanging on the door, “you okay?”

You bit your lip, though it trembled and your face scrunched up. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, but how were you supposed to say that when you hadn’t said one word to anyone since the news had reached you?

“Okay…” you could hear her frown, “your parents should be here by tomorrow…” she took another breath as if she was going to elaborate, but paused and thought she ought not to. “I’ll be in the living room if you…if you need anything.”

You stared at the wall, clutching the picture frame in your hand tighter–oh you should have hugged him like that this morning! And why the bleeding hell didn’t you? Why? Why? You–you should of–if you had known–your silent screams filled the room–if I had just known, you thought, your body shaking with the pain of understanding he was gone, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to bring him back.

To touch him, to hug him, to breathe him in just one last time–to tell him you loved him. You couldn’t move, once you’d found your bed a few hours ago, your body seemed to deflate. There were so many things you had to do, had to cancel–so many things–just–so many–and oh, your brain hurt. Your head was throbbing and you tried massaging it and oh gosh why did this happen? Why? Why couldn’t you have just had a day like any other? One where he picked up a snack for you on the way to your apartment? One where he made it through the first few hours of work?

Being a firefighter–yes, you knew–was a dangerous job–but you didn’t think it would get him freaking killed–

Your face scrunched together and a new wave of wails escaped your throat and you were shoving your head under a pillow, trying to un-hear the words–trying to reverse time. You weren’t a superhero, but maybe, if you prayed hard enough, one would swoop in and rescue you from the torturous reality that was now your life.

You didn’t care what they looked like or what powers they had, “please, God,” you begged, “please don’t make me go through this again. I can’t–I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

In the other room, M— found herself in a daze. She was trying to do her best for you, but she was grieving in her own way. She’d known your fiancé, L—, she’d grown accustomed to him in the last few months you’d brought him around, he wasn’t perfect, but no one was. He smoked; she didn’t like smoking, but you didn’t mind it and he did his best to hide it from her, so she didn’t mind it too much either.

And now–now L— was gone. She wasn’t a wreck like you, but she felt the weight of everything else. You were her soul sister. Everything you felt she felt tenfold because she didn’t know what to do and she was questioning everything in her right mind. If things like this could happen to you and L—, what was to say it couldn’t happen to her? It was like a slap in the face, a wake-up call. M— could barely function with the information, she couldn’t imagine what you must be going through.

She slept over that night and you awoke to the smell of breakfast. Your stomach rumbled and the scent wafted through the apartment, but your mind wasn’t hungry, and just the idea of eating made you want to throw up. Your lips smacked and you knew you needed water. You forced yourself out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

The curtains were pulled shut in the den, your nose guided you into the kitchen where dim lighting highlighted M—’s figure. “Hey,” she smiled upon seeing you. You noted the bags under her eyes and thought–by the expression on her face–could see similar ones under yours.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t feel like you had anything of importance to say–so why waste the time? Your stomach gurgled again, but you ignored it and headed for the fridge.

“Look, —, I have some errands to run so I’ll be gone for a few hours…” you pressed your lips into a thin line, unscrewing the lid on the bottle of water. “...will you be okay by yourself? I can call someone,” she jabbed her thumb in her phone's direction on the counter near the microwave. “You know what–yeah, I–I’ll do that.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” your icy tone and narrowed eyes were not at all how you’d intended to respond, but you couldn’t control it. You felt it best to keep everything to yourself, that way you didn’t say or do things you didn't mean. M— watched you avert your eyes, your hands lowering the bottled water and cap, “...sorry…”

She sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit, “Don’t be, I know you didn’t mean it like that.” Your lips pressed into the thin line from before as you watched her fix a plate for you and set it on the counter, “I’m going to clean up and head out.” You nodded, and sat down, staring at the plate. You were still in your clothes from yesterday, so perhaps you should get in the shower…you just...didn’t have the energy right now. Later, you thought, I’ll do it.

“Alright, you sure you’ll be alright?” M— frowned at your nod, “Call me if you need anything and please–if not for you, for me, eat.”

Again, you nodded, but it felt forced. Maybe, you told yourself, definitely.

You put the plate in the fridge and in the fridge is where it stayed the rest of that day.

Spencer sat in Maeve’s blood, he knew there were others around–knew that there should be sound he was hearing right about now–screaming, maybe shrieking?–but every function he’d developed throughout all his years of living seemed to evade him now. All he knew was pain–the throbbing in his head, the pounding in his chest. Someone was trying to pull him away–and just like that anger overtook him. He was aggressive–Spencer was seldom angry–the term was in his brain to be sure, but it was never used to describe him.

Why? Why? He brought his hands to his ears, closing his eyes as if it’d all go away–he just wanted everything to go away–why couldn’t everyone go away? His broken screams drowned out any sense of the world around him as paramedics hauled Maeve off somehwere–not, not Maeve–her b–her body.

Spencer woke up in his work clothes, he was in his bed and the curtains were drawn. He groaned and ran a hand down his face, his heart stopped–before the memories of the day before rushed through his mind, he thought he might have done something stupid–like take Dilaudid again. He shuddered and shot upward.

That’s when it hit him, he gripped the edge of his bed and grabbed a fist full of his hair. He was sweaty, his head ached, and he couldn’t focus his mind on any singular thought; his vision was clouded and verything around him wasg grey.

He didn’t even think of it, he just knew. Maeve was gone. She wasn’t on a beach somewhere in Malibu or on a cruise going around the golf of Mexico, she wasn’t ever going to text or call him back–he would never hear her voice again–never get to hug her–to touch her.

She was there, and then she wasn’t. He felt his entire world come crumbling around him as the actualization of what had happened struck him. Swallowing, he felt a thickness in his throat. He couldn’t remember what happened after Maeve was taken away–he must have blacked out. He slid back under his blankers and pulled them over his head. He felt tear after tear pool in the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t have the energy to wipe them.

He didn’t have the energy to do anything. He closed his eyes, his heart clenching as he saw Maeve, standing, then shot, and on the floor–he forced his eyes open, not wanting to see what happened next. He wanted to give up on sleeping, but he couldn’t move. What could he do? For all he cared he could die right here and now and he wouldn’t think twice about the consequences.

The ringing of his phone cut through the silence that had come over his tiny space under the covers, it was Penelope, he ignored it and turned the screen back off. A knock sounded down the hall of his bedroom, someone was at the front door. He didn’t want to open it, it was probably one of the other team members. A text notification convinced him to click the phone on again.

It was Penelope, again.

She was leaving a basket for him at the door. He didn’t care and he didn’t feel bad for it. He wasn’t going to answer the door, he wasn’t going to do anything for a while. He just wanted to sit with his–everything.

And sit did he, for the next week he didn’t leave his apartment, but he didn’t sleep either. He barely ate and when he did, he couldn’t bring himself to clean up. He kept reading the quote she’d left in the book she’d gifted him. He was going to give her the same book, The Narrative of John Smith. It wasn’t mathematical or anticlimactic like the genres he typically preferred, but it was a genre Maeve liked and through her, he’d grown a love for fictional mystery literature.

Though they’d discussed the book, Spencer had not yet read it, and neither had Maeve, which is why he’d wanted to give it to her upond there first in person meeting. It would have been sentimental and she would have loved it–Spencer just knew she would have.

He cried. He didn’t wail or whimper, he simply cried. Tears streamed down his face for what could have been, and in a desperate need to blame someone he could still sort of speak to, he latched onto one of the most well-known deities across the world.

He cursed God, then he asked God why, and though he was certain there was no one listening, he pleaded with God; he pleaded for another chance.

If there was even a smidgen of a possibility that Spencer could ever be happy again, he’d put his trust in the almighty being, because logic would not help him this time around, he needed to have some other realm of force backing him because this type of pain–this type of pain was something only faith could mend.

A week went by, then two, and Spencer got a call from Morgan. He’d ignored everyone and had let the messages go to voicemail and in turn, build up–until Morgan called with a question–not about him, but about the case they were currently working on, and so, in an attempt to subtlety clue everyone in on the fact that he wasn’t dead, he called back.

Of course, Penelope butted in and asked if he was alright and at this time he didn’t know, he couldn’t decide if he was dying from some internal wound he didn’t know about or if it was simply a ghostly feeling.

“I have to go,” was his response, then he hung up and as he did so, the urge to take a shower overwhelmed him. He felt cleaner, but not better. He’d run out of mugs and he didn’t want to wash a single one. Instead, he threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweats and headed for his door.

He smelled better than he’d gotten used to, though his apartment covered up the fresh smell with one of mildew. He opened his door hesitantly, and a few seconds later he was shoving Penelope’s baskets out of the way, disregarding the thought to haul them inside before leaving. He wanted to get coffee, he had to get coffee, he didn’t know why, but this was the strongest urge to do something he’d felt in a while. It was both calming and tiring, he wanted to go back inside, but he was stubborn and determined. He wanted to prove something, maybe to the team, maybe to himself. He felt if he did this, this one thing, he’d be able to do anything and everything again. He’d regain control over himself.

So, Spencer stepped into the elevator, listing off what he wanted in his coffee order as each minute ticked by.

You were given time off, but it seemed like all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to accept what you had to. Getting up and moving wasn’t the hardest part, it was the acting–acting like you weren’t still in a war with yourself, fighting for every second you didn’t break down, taking it day by day.

Your black mary jane’s clicked on the sidewalk as you rushed toward your regular coffee shop, you were already running late to your appointment, but if you didn’t have this coffee, you didn’t know if you coud get through the day. You’d begun doing your makeup again upon your mother’s pestering and M—’s nagging. You wondered if L— could see you, what would he say if he could? Would he judge you for the coffin you were about to pick out? For being late to such a significant meeting for a single cup of coffee?

No, no he wasn’t like that. He had never been like that…

A shuddering breath escaped you as you blinked back tears. You hadn’t been able to go one day without crying and though you barely slept–each time you did you cried yourself to the brink of splitting your head open before the dratted dreams came.

It was always him, always that morning–always ‘what could have been’ if you’d only made him late that morning. Had something gone wrong with your toaster or coffee pot. Had you kissed him just a bit longer so that he wasn’t on duty when his station got that call–so that he wouldn’t lose himself in the fire trying to make sure everyone else got out.

His face was always blurred, you thought it was due to your grief and the fact that your mind simply could not put you through that for fear of altering your brain permanently. That was just your guess, though.

The sound of your steps dislocated every other sound on the street. It was around eight, the meeting started at eight thirty, you had less than 20 minutes to order, pay, and get to your destination on time. “Oh,” your shoulder collided with a strangers. “I–I’m so sorry,” your voice cracked and you had to take a moment to control it before turning to meet the other’s gaze. “I really–” you cut yourself off, noting the dead gleam in his eyes.

It was like he wasn’t there at all, like he was over the day or the world, or both. It had only been for a second, then he was blinking and apologizing, trying to assess the situation.

“I–I am so sorry,” you repeated, reaching out, wiping his brown sweater vest–now drenched in coffee–off, like it’d do something.

“It’s alright, you’re just spreading it.” He stepped back and held up a hand.

You nodded, pulling your hand back, frowning at the mess and inconvenience you’d cause this poor man, “I truly am sorry, I–is it expensive? I’ll buy you–” you paused, with the cost of the every cancelation fee from vendors, the wedding planner, the makeup artist, the venue, and the funeral that you now had to plan, you had to start considering your budget.

“It’s fine, don’t cry,” he shifted, looking uncomfortable. You gasped, though it was low and not worth commenting on.

Swiping at the tears streaking down your cheek, you whispered, “sorry, I tell myself I’m not going to cry and then I just–” you shook your head, you were mostly talking to yourself, but you heard how odd it might have sounded to him.

He uncrossed his satchel and shrugged the sweater vest off with one arm. “It’ll be fine if I take it to the dry cleaners,” you cringed–so it was expensive–dry-cleaner expensive.

“Let me buy you another coffee, I can at least do that,” you figited with your sleeves, the man noticed.

His eyes tracked up to yours, searching your person, but for what you couldn’t say, maybe he saw in you what you saw in him, maybe that’s why he agreed, maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, pretending you weren’t the only person in the world grasping onto every shred of anything that made you feel some semblance of sane.

He was quiet, you shared no diologue after your offer. He nodded and followed you inside. You weren’t nervous, you didn’t know why you thought you should be. You figited with your sleeves as you stood in line. You ordered first and waited for him. His order wasn’t one you’d expect from someone who looked like him–or rather dressed like him. You expected pure black espresso, maybe a few dashes of sugar, certainly not a latte with extra sugar. You shook your head, filing the thought away.

You swiped your card and followed Spencer, taking up a small barstool table with two seats in the corner of the shop. You crossed your arms, folding in on yourself as if you were trying to become as small as possible. Spencer noticed this too, but couldn’t find it in himself to really care, though as he thought this, he was already trying to determine is you had anxiety or if you were just having a bad day.

He cursed the profiler in his brain, wishing it’d listent to him just once. You figited, but he discarded anxiety upon recalling your brash reaction to spilling coffee over him, so then it must be something else, he thought, frustrated that he’d gone down a rabbit hole and now he had to know the source of your agiation. Even still, he didn’t want to ask you: a) he didn’t want to be rude, b) he didn’t care enough to ask, and c) it’d be too easy.

It’s something, at least for the time being, he considered, to take my mind off of everything else going wrong in my life. The barista called your name and you stood. Damn, Spencer faultered, what now? He couldn’t let you go without knowing, it’d bug him too much, though a part of him wanted it to bug him. It’d be considerably easier to fall asleep thinking about what was wrong with the stranger he’d met at the coffee shop than about anything to do with Maeve. He could barely get through saying her name and still–every time he thought it, bile built in the back of his throat and anger coursed through him–then right after, he’d want to crawl into a ball and waste away.

“What happened?” He cursed himself, why would he just outright ask you that? Why couldn’t he act normal?

“What?” You raised a brow, handing him his sickeningly sweet beverage.

He took it from you, shaking his head, “no–nothing, nevermind.”

You frowned, averting your eyes to the floor, the bustle of the shop turning tranquil, “if I tell you you have to tell me.”

“Huh?” He heard himself say before thinking. His eyes widened slightly as he thought of an answer, though it wasn’t long before he said, “Okay.”

But you couldn’t sit with him now, you had somewhere to be, just as he did. You parted ways after you’d exchanged numbers. “I’m Spencer…by the way…”

You acknowledged it but found it strange, he didn’t look like a ‘Spencer’, then he held out his hand for an awkward handshake and you nodded, yeah, that’s something a Spencer would do. “—,” you hesitated only an instant before allowing his hand to tangle into yours. They were warm–his hands–despite the weather, and you thought he smelled nice. Like applecrisps…

…

It wasn’t that Spencer was looking forward to his meeting with you, but it allowed some normality to enter his life again. He’d met you two days after he’d gone back to work, three days of powering through, and just when he thought he might not be cut out for working in the BAU anymore, just when he’d felt all was lost, you spilled his coffee all over him. His own coffee on top of that.

He’d been looking at different job listings when he’d bumped into you, so it was not entirely your fault. “What’s up, Pretty Boy?” Morgan approached his desk, pushing some things aside to sit atop it.

“What do you mean what’s up–nothing’s up.” Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Morgan sighed, “Fine, I won’t push, but I’m here if you need me, you know that, kid.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, pushing Morgan off his desk and reorganizing his things, “While I appreciate the ten-hundredth notice and gesture, I don’t appreciate being called ‘kid’.”

Morgan huffed and uncrossed his arms, “Whatever you say,” he began walking away, but turned his head back and murmured, “kid.”

Morgan noted a small smile dawning on Spencer’s face while he simultaneously shook his head.

The ceremony was tough, you and L—’s parents decided on a closed casket because of the burn marks. He didn’t even look like your L— anymore and seeing him–even with heavy amounts of makeup–would break you, and you’d been getting better–well, you were opening up in therapy now, and instead of starting out the window, fidgeting with your sleeves and pushing your hair out of your face, you occasionally glanced around the room–it was dull but homey in its own right.

You hadn’t mentioned Coffee Guy to anyone, though it was partially because you doubted he’d even text you, and you weren’t obsessing over texting him either. It might have just been a curiosity thing, you didn’t want to think about it much–thinking still hurt your head.

You were taking aspirin at least three times a day–ibuprofen if you were having an extra awful day. You had just grabbed the bottle of pills from the bathroom and walked to the kitchen when your phone pinged. You sighed and glanced at your phone. It was Spencer.

You set the bottle down and took up residence in one of the stools at the bar table. You read over the text a few times before remembering you had to reply. Yeah that works for me, see you then. You sent the message, your chest aching with a nostalgia, this would be the first time you went out alone, or at least with someone who hadn’t known you before L—’s death–someone who instead of babysitting would be living with you. Well, if you could consider grabbing coffee ‘living’. But it was more than you’d had in the past month.

He wouldn’t give you sympathetic eyes because he had no idea he was supposed to; because you wouldn’t tell him, but then you’d recalled the question you’d asked him, the agreement you’d made, and your heart sank.

For a moment, you mind wandered to thoughts of why he’d looked so angry that day–no it wasn’t anger. It was like…helplessness. That was the only way you knew how to describe it. But why? You asked yourself, a pang–sharp and squeezing–shot through your head. You huffed and dropped your phone onto the couture, gripping your temples, debating on what to say or do should he follow through with the promise.

You rubbed circles into the sides of your forehead until you felt you could let go, and soon after, you swallowed a pill.

Three days passed, it was Saturday, the day in which you were meeting Spencer. You didn’t know why you kept it a secret still, but you did, and heading out alone took a bit of convincing. “I’ll be an hour tops–I’m fine,” you huffed, crossing your arms when you saw M— narrow her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“For the fifth time,” you frowned, holding up a hand, “I. Am. Fine.”

She nodded, running a hand down her face, “Okay, but…text me or respond–I’ll text, okay?”

You took in a breath, “Look, M—, I appreciate you worrying, but if I ever want to live a normal life again, I need to start leaving the house by myself.” You didn’t want to be mean, you knew she meant well, but at the same time–you were not a child and you couldn’t depend on her forever. More than needing to start doing things independently again, you wanted to reclaim being your own person–not one that was overshadowed by the things you’d gone through or the things you’d gotten over. Just–you–you and your persistent actions, you and your obsessive hobbies, you and your favorite things. Talking to new people–to strangers, you thought, might just be the first step toward reaching your goal.

Though the afternoon sun was still out, wind swept past your face as you crossed the street. You bit the inside of your cheek, wincing at the bell that rang, alerting the people inside to your presence. You glanced around, but couldn’t find him.

A few people left just as you decided to take a seat. There were two barista’s but one had moved to the back, now you were left with the quiet ambience of classical jazz and a few fellow customers. You thought about texting him but then shoved the idea away as soon as it popped into your head. You did not want to seem as desperate as you were feeling, so you set your purse down and made yourself as comfortable as you could be in this situation.

A few minutes went by with you scrolling your phone, Spencer had noticed you the moment before you’d opened the door and stepped inside. He’d been waiting for you, but a part of him had doubted you’d show. He didn’t know why he didn’t simply wait a few minutes before leaving, actuallyno, he did. Spencer despised being late, so instead of going agains his personal morals, he’d taken up residence in the very back corner of the coffeehouse at the high table, using a newspaper to cover his face as he cataloged every patron that wasn’t you.

He was just about to stand and call it a day, seemingly have been right about you standing him up, when he noted you.

Spencer couldn’t pinpoint what exactly had caught his attention first, just the fact that your presence seemed to draw him in was enough. He watched you for a few moments. You were fidgeting with your hands as you often did when you were uncofortable. You were scared he wasn’t going to show, it should’ve been a horrible thought, but Spencer cracked a small smile–which is when his phone pinged with a message.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn’t pick up on your texting. Just got here, it read. It widened his smile, and so he stood and made his way toward you, dumping the newspaper on the table. “Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Your breath caught and your eyes widened, if he didn't know any better he’d think you saw a ghost or something of the sort–maybe a poltergeist? He shook his head, “Don’t be, I got here a few moments ago.” He nodded, accepting the obvious lie–but who was he to talk? He’d hid behind a newspaper in a corner because he was afraid you weren't going to show. He’d gotten here before you. How lame is that?

“Have you ordered yet?” He switched the conversation, disregarding his satchel on the chair across from you.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well, did you want something? It’s on me–since you bought last time.”

“Yeah, but last time I spilled your coffee, so it wouldn’t be fair would it?” He raised a brow at your sudden confidence and cracked a smile.

“I suppose not, but I wouldn’t mind.”

You hesitated a moment, then nodded, “Okay,” you weren’t as stupid as to turn down free coffee a second time.

Spencer stood and headed for the counter, the barista that had gone off to the back now returned, you followed him, your movements slow and careful. You mumbled your order, neglecting to hold back on your extra ristretto shot, and instead came forward with your entire order. Spencer didn’t say anything to stop you, but perhaps he was just being nice.

Upon sitting back down, Spencer took to gazing out the window. You registered the way the grayed sunlight outlined his features, defining his side profile. The side that wasn’t hidden in white, you analyzed. His eyebags had depleted a little since the first you saw him, you wondered if yours had as well. Almost unconsciously, you lifted a hand to the bridged of your nose and traced it down to the corner of your eye.

Spencer glanced at you, shifting so that he was leaning on his arms that were splayed out in front of him. “What’s your favorite type of weather?” You sighed, fiddling with your fingers under the table as you passed over the question in your head, “you seem like a gloomy person.”

You raised a brow, “is that projection?”

He shrugged, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips and despite your offended response, your expression micked his. “You don’t really hold back, do you?”

You huffed a laugh, covering your mouth with one of your hands. Spencer watched you, wondering what had you looking the way you did when you’d first met him; wondering why–despite the casual visage–your eyes had rivaled his in hopelessness. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?” You calmed your racing heart.

His face scrunched together a moment, but his smile didn’t falter, “do you like gloomy weather?”

A heavy sigh left your throat and you turned to watch the wind pick up outside again, tugging everything south. Your eyes landed on a church bell in the near distance, you drafted it in your head, “As of lately, that seems to be the case.” He wanted to comment on it, to ask what you meant by it, but you spoke first, “and you? Do you prefer gloomy weather, you sure look like you do.”

He scoffed, his eyes twinkling with something both sad and lovely, “Yes, I’ve always preferred Autumn.”

“Any specific reason?” You titled your head, trying to find any topic to latch onto so that the conversation didn’t go dry.

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I mean, I love Halloween, but that’s about it.”

“Really? Nothing else?”

“Well,” he started–but was distracted by the bell that rang. The barista called his name and he pushed his chair back. You were in the middle of standing when he turned around and held out a hand, “don’t worry, I got it.” You wavered only a second before sitting back down.

Alone with your mind–the atmosphere drowning out every other insignificant noise–you took a breath. You were doing this, you told yourself you could–and you didn’t know him all that well yet, but you had a feeling Spencer–the Coffee Shop Guy had entered your life for a reason, whether it was to stray your mind from the pain of losing L— or to help bring him to the forefront of your mind, you weren’t sure. But he was nice and he didn’t ask even though you’d seen the question in his eyes. You wondered if you small prayer had been answered, perhaps he wouldn’t ask at all, perhaps, you could live in a world with him where neither of you spoke of the things that pained you.

You could ask him, as he’d stated earlier, you were bold, but wouldn’t that be childish? Though, for some reason, you had the idea that Spencer wouldn’t really mind it.

As he approached the table again, setting your cup down in front of you before taking up his seat again, you wondered if maybe he wasn’t asking because he didn’t want you to ask, because you didn’t need to, because he didn’t want to talk about his demons either–and with that, you thought maybe you were more alike than first glance would have left you to believe.

It was almost like a new agreement had been made, voiceless and silent, but as loud as the speed of rivers–and as your quiet afternoon coffee dates increased–begining with one every other week to one every Saturday–so did your need to be near each other.

It was a safe place, one you both kept from your normal life. When you were together it felt like you were in your own little universe. One where L— didn’t exist and spencer had never met Maeve. You weren’t dating, but you weren’t not intimate. I was better than dating. Dating required labling and labling ensured one person if not both would eventually get hurt–physically or mentally, or both. What you had now, it was more of a fantasy.

One in which you could both pretend things were alright in the world even if you both felt like you were at the edge it. Where one was sumberging, the other was sinking–but both were pulling each other to the bottom, drowning one another in falsehood.

A month had disappeared right before your eyes, your casual, Saturday coffee dates had turned into texting each other good mornings and goodnights, and then the texting in the middle of the day started when you’d sent him a message, it was small, a simple good luck today!

But he’d replied within seconds, thanks, you too :).

Something was wrong, you could feel yourself straying. You hadn’t mentioned Spencer to anyone, for all they knew: you stayed home Saturdays. You were sure Spencer had kept you a secret from his everyday life as well–and though neither of you spoke much about your personal lives, it didn’t harm your relationship in the slightest. It was the fear–you were sure–that speaking about something the other wasn’t a part of would break the illusion you’d created together, so you kept away from the topic, pretending like you knew what was going on while most of the time you had less than when either of you clocked in.

You could feel the logical part of your brain telling you what you were doing wasn’t normal, but you thought if you could just keep them separate–it wouldn’t hurt anyone. You’d grown attached to Spencer, you wanted to keep him all to yourself, he was your secret and yours alone. You didn’t want to hear about the people who got to see him every day, the people who got to interact with him at work or when he went home–you didn’t want to know just how much you were sharing.

It was small things at first, like forgetting you’d made plans with M— or work friends, canceling on them last minute in favor of staying home and texting Spencer. The first time he’d called you it was late, around 3 am because he couldn’t sleep–he’d said–and upon seeing his name slide across your phone for the first time as a call, you found you weren’t that tired anymore either.

Your room was dark, almost two months had gone by, you’d stopped keeping track of the days, honestly, only aware of it for events at work, but barely. M— still came around sometimes, checking up on how you were doing, but you’d stopped replying to her messages so much that they’d built up, and when you did respond, it was, thanks, I’m fine, and then you were dead for a few days more until she heard back from you again or came knocking on your door without warning.

The few times she’d stopped by unannounced, it hadn’t been too bad, but on two specific occasions, you’d let a few choice words slip up. She was worried about you, she’d told your parents–and they had called you to make sure you were alright, asking if you’d wanted them to come back down–of course you said no, why would you? You were an adult, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.

You were going to therapy and you hadn’t called into work once since you’d been back. And besides all that, you had Spencer. It wasn’t like you were alone–even when you physically were, Spencer was a simple text away, and he always responded within the first few minutes.

“Are you there?” Spencer pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you smiled into the phone, switching your bedside lamp on, you shifted your body upward and pulled your knees to your chest as you leaned against your bed’s headboard. “Yeah, Spencer, I’m here, what’s going on?” You were giddy with feeling, you had never spoken over the phone with him–this was new territory altogether. You were terrified of the excitement it enlisted within you.

“I–I can’t sleep.” He huffed, his voice groggy with yearning.

You frowned, “are you an insomniac?”

A low chuckle came from the other side of the line, “blunt as always.”

“It’s my best quality,” you chirped, your voice croaky as you fought the urge to yawn.

“Did I wake you up?–I woke you up didn’t I–I’m sorry–I’ll–”

“Don’t,” you shook your hand, though you knew he couldn’t see it, and rubbed your eyes, giving into the yawn, “I’m always here, Spencer.”

“Yeah, but… we don’t…do this,” by this, he could mean a million different things. You didn’t call; you didn’t call at night–certainly not this late; you didn’t wake each other from slumber; you didn’t say things like you were saying now; you didn’t talk about your struggles or issues; you just–you talked about the good things. It was like catfishing in real life, only you were catfishing your lives and you both had been completely aware of it from the beginning.

But maybe you could.

Maybe…, “it–it’s fine…” you spoke softly, attempting to sound casual, but your voice wavered slightly as if you had no idea what you were doing, and maybe you didn’t–but maybe…

Spencer caught your hesitation–and he should have cared–he should have changed his mind, he should have hung up right there. But he didn’. And now here he was, spilling his guts to his…whatever you were.

He didn’t know if he could call you a friend, he didn’t know if what you were could even be considered friendliness–it was more or less a mutual…a mutual bonding? He didn’t know, when you were together it felt like you were more–like you could be more–but then there was Maeve in the back of his head, and he knew–he knew you had your own affairs.

He kept Mave to himself, but he divulged everything else. He was giving his most personal self away and he wouldn’t know if it was a mistake until after he did it. It was a chance he was willing to take because–well…what the hell else was there left? Maeve was gone and he was okay with pretending he was fine with it, that he was fine with moving on, but he couldn’t lie to himself. She took up every corner of his mind, he still carried her damn book with him. He knew it was an issue–his therapist had recommended shelving the literary work–but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t shelve her away like a book he’d never read again.

“I’m fine.” The shattering of a plate sounded throughout your kitchen. M— flinched, “I–” you huffed, averting your eyes.

“You’re sorry, I know,” M— narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “Look(—what is going on with you? I know–” she held up a hand, “you keep saying nothing, but it sure as hell doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“Yeah, well that’s not really any of your business, is it?” you scowled, grabbing the broom to sweep up the mess you’d made.

“Here,” M— sighed, seeping forward and holding out her arm, “let me do that.”

You stared at her for a long second, assessing her. She jerked her hand, motioning for the broom. You rolled your eyes and placed it in her open palm.

“All I’m saying,” she began, her voice softer this time, “is that I miss you…I know L— misses you too.”

“L— is dead.” Your voice sliced through the tension like an avalanche coming down after waiting dormant for years.

“—…” M— mumbled, tilting the dustpan into a bag. When she finished she connected the pan to the pole and set it against your mop. She leaned on the counter near where you were, corning you in your own kitchen, “You haven’t visited his grave since the funeral… Not once.”

You turned away, unable to hold her stare any longer. Tears pooled in your eyes as you let the words slip from your throat, “I’m not ready.”

“Oh sweety…” she came up around you and pulled your hands before her, “I…I don’t think you’ll ever be ready. But I’m here, L—’s parents are here if you want I can call your mom, your father?”

You shook your head, “no–I–” you resolved, “I’m fine.” You met her gaze, “I swear it.”

She frowned, you could tell she didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t find it in you to tell her the truth–you couldn’t even admit to the truth yourself because, in all honesty, you didn’t know what the truth was. You knew Spencer had something to do with it, but you were ignorant of just how big of an impact he had.

“You’re still planning to move out, right? I can help you start looking at listings again.” You cringed and tried not to roll your eyes as you braced your arms against the counter near the stove.

“I… I don’t know just yet.”

“You don’t know?” M— almost scoffed, turning away, “See, this is what I’m talking about–you were so set on moving two months ago–what–what happened?”

You shrugged, trying to deflect from her piercing gaze, “I–I just haven’t had time.”

“Haven’t had time?” M— shook her head, distaste curling on her lip, “—, you’re a bad liar, you always have been.” She sighed, running a hand over their face, “I… I know you might be coping in your way, but I don’t think it’d be healthy to–

“–Oh and suddenly you’re an expert on everything now?”

M— paused, taking a step back, “Are you being serious right now?” Your face contorted into a sneer, leading to M— nodding, “Alright, well maybe I should just leave…” You kept quiet and your head down as she began walking away. She hesitated, you saw her jerk her movements a split second before making up her mind and continuing toward the front door.

Your heart was breaking in your chest as you heard her feet shuffle away from you. When was the last time you’d fought like this? When was the last time you shoved each other away? But it wasn’t really her fault, was it? You were to blame for this–this was your doing–your responsibility. And why were you in this situation in the first place? Why couldn’t you run to her, let her pull you in her arms, and week on her shoulder?

You knew the answer, but you didn’t know why the answer was what it was. You didn’t want to voice it either–you wanted to indulge in being with him, you wanted to indulge in continuing your relationship for better or for worse, you didn’t care. But it was for worse, and you knew this and upon the few conversations over the phone you had with him in the days passing, you knew he knew it too–and eventually, you began calling out of work, you began to hide away from the world, obsessed with one thing and only one thing: Spencer.

Spencer was there and then he wasn’t. He faded in and out of consciousness during the day, he’d barely be any help to the cases at present. To him, it seemed like he had no reason to be at work, and just like that, the progress he had made the past two months caught the first train to regression.

Morgan and Blake were there, Penelope too–checking up on him regularly, but he couldn’t very well tell them what was going on–what he was feeling because they’d think he’d gone crazy. But maybe he had always been crazy–he’d never thought too long about it, but what if he was a psychopath? Just one with controlled impulses? Though he never had thoughts of gutting anyone or how their head would look like on a stick–he now had this obsession–one like none he’d ever dealt with. It was almost compulsive with how he checked his phone every few seconds, ensuring he hadn’t missed a message from you.

His heart ached when he found you hadn’t, but when you did–oh that was a rush he could not explain. He didn’t feel like he should have to, either. You just got him–he ignored Maeve’s gaze on him. She was with him more often now, she wouldn’t leave him alone, it was torture worse than he’d ever been through–worse than death–worse than Tobias.

His brain couldn’t process that Maeve was a ghost, that what he was seeing wasn’t real because she was in the back of his mind–all. The. Time. He couldn’t tell what was rality and what was fiction–not with you, not with Maeve. He didn’t know how he put you in the same league as her, deep down he knew no one could ever even hope to compare.

But you–there was something–something about you even his brain couldn’t explain.

“Look, Spencer, you know you can come to any9 of us if you ever need to,” Spencer avoided Hotch’s gaze, tapping his fingers on the table before him.

“Yeah, I know.”

Hotch eyed his pupil silently for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to assess the situation. Eventually, the man sighed and folded his hands, “Alright, as long as you know that.” Spencer nodded and stood, taking Hotch’s words as a cue to leave, “Hey, Reid–”

Spencer paused and turned around, eyes finding Hotch’s with hesitation, “yeah?”

Hotch sighed and it sounded fatigued, though Spencer couldn’t deduce if it was from staying late at the office most nights or all the stress that had been plaguing Spence–that he now brought down on the team. Not on purpose, never on purpose, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Nothing, go home, get some rest, take the day off, maybe.”

Spencer thought to protest, but then he thought he’d have more time to text you, to call you, and maybe if you weren’t busy you could spend the day together. Most nights he stayed awake, texting, calling you. A few of the team members had caught him smiling at his phone when he was on it and his face morphing into angst and annoyance at the world when he wasn’t.

Whatever it was–whoever it was: it wasn’t healthy. And Spencer knew that. You knew that. But neither of you wanted to admit it–not yet at least.

Spencer had told you to meet him in five minutes outside of your apartment, he’d planned a day away from everything, though as he’d come to learn, he’d been doing that for a while. He knew you had been the victim of it as well, whoever you had lost, you’d loved with your whole heart, whoever he was competing with, he could never measure up, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be alone but he didn’t want to be at work, he didn’t want to think, and in that sense, he’d grown lazy. He didn’t care about consequences, all he cared about was you and what you could provide. He didn’t feel guilty about it either, because he knew you thought the same.

You ignored L—’s presence as you flipped over every picture frame he was in, and had began taking down everything in your apartment he’d bought or contributed to, you didn’t want to be reminded of what you had lost when you were gaining something new.

You met him outside in five minutes, just like he’d said to. “Hey,” the bustle on the street went away when you saw him. He was close, but there was always something between you two. It wasn’t a spark like it had been with L—, it wasn’t friendship like you had with M—, but it wasn’t like your coworker’s either. You didn’t know what it was, it felt both tangible and unattainable. It was a shell of a relationship almost, but you were doing it to yourselves. To punish? To force down? To repent?

Maybe it was because you both thought you deserved this kind of love, the half-filled kind.

Maybe it was the only love you could provide for anyone else because when you loved fully, people died and hurt were the people they left. You couldn’t be too sure, but you didn't like thinking about it much. You hid the thoughts and moral parts of yourself, shouting that this was wrong, what you were doing to yourself, and enabling Spencer to do to himself could be considered abuse. Torment in which you were both willing participants.

The day waned, you picked up coffee and then you headed to the bookstore downtown. He’d picked out a few psychological and physics novels and you selected a single thriller. He’d snorted at the title when you’d read it to him and said after reading the synopsis on the back, “It’s going to be–” he paused and focussed his eyes again, “Sorry, no spoilers will come from me.”

You frowned, “but you haven’t read this one, how can you tell who the killer is?” When you saw him hesitate you squinted, trying to figure out why he couldn’t answer. “Are you just guessing?” You raised a brow.

He laughed nervously and began rubbing his nape, “Yeah, kind of.” You smiled and clicked your tongue, “seriously? Come on,” you smacked him on the shoulder, pushing him forward when one of the registers opened up and called the next person forward.

“Do you want to call it a day?” You asked as you exited the shop with him on your heels.

“Erm…” he frowned, looked around, his bag in hand, “What about cornetto?” He motioned to the vendor across the street at the child playground.

You chuckled, “Seriously? Spencer, it’s like–the beginning of January?”

“Yeah, so?” he tilted his head, allowing a few strands of his shaggy brown hair to fall into his face. You sighed, biting your lip as you considered.

“Alright, then, come on.” You picked a flavor for each other and upon tasting his choice, you were surprised it wasn’t as bad as you'd expected it to be.

You were quite content, for the most part anyway–a bench caught Spencer’s eyes and he asked to sit, so you sat. You were speaking, merely enjoying the other’s presence. But that sinking feeling in the back of your head began to bubble up again. It’d been happening ever since you and M— had that fight. She hadn’t messaged you and you hadn’t done anything to contact her. It always seemed most present when you were with Spencer. Or when you were texting or thinking about him. He seemed to be at the pinnacle of all your stress and yet, he was the only one that could make it go away.

“Spencer…” you murmured, noting the dying sun in the sky, taking its color with it. The clouds turned gray and you knew it would start raining soon.

“Yeah?” he threw the last of the cone into his mouth and stood to toss the wrapper in a nearby bin.

You watched him, waiting and wondering what you wanted to say. You closed your eyes because you could not acertain what exactly it was you wanted to say. Upon turning around and finding you with your eyes closed he looked away, and stuffed his hands into his pocket, as if you’d passed your feelings onto him.

“—)”

“–No, Spencer, I need to say it.” You stood, still gripping your cornetto.

“Say what?” He all but squeaked, throwing his hands up, “—, what is it you have to say?”

“You say it like that,” you frowned, taking a step toward him, “but I think what you really mean is, ‘why do you have to say it’”

He averted his eyes, you were right and you both knew it. You took another step forward, but he met it by taking one back. You looked up at him and in a moment of vulnerability, you reached for him. Your heartbeat pulsed as he did just what you expected him to do, he pulled away and turned his back to you.

Your heart was breaking, but not for him. He was shattering you fantasy. Your ‘everything is okay’ world. You had given up practically everything to feel like this all the time and he was shattering it each second he didn’t turn back around.

“Spencer,” you whispered again.

He spun around with a force you had never seen and shouted, “NO —, no–we can’t–we can’t do this. We–we can’t do that.” The question broke the illusion, your day together that hadn’t felt real, felt no less than a slap of reality.

“But why?” Came your plead.

“Because!” He shouted, “Because–because people die, and when people die, they take every soul with them! I don’t–don’t you get it?” He scoffed, eyes crazed, yours glistening with almost tears, but not quite.

“Be real, Spencer,” you narrowed your eyes, your voice dripping with venom. You looked tired despite the amount of days you’d taken leave from work, “I’m probably the only one that gets it.”

“Then you should know better” he shot back, jabbing a finger in your direction, his eyes coming down on you like a storm, and in this moment, you felt quite like Dorothy.

You nodded, a grim smile quirking up your lips, “wow, Spencer, just wow.”

“—)”

“–Do you really think I give a damn?” You scoffed, facing him for possibly the last time, “Screw you, Spencer.” You launched the rest of your cornetto at his face, watching it hit his cheek and fall to the floor.

He grimaced, and as you walked away, trying to make sense of everything, you felt the bubbled feeling disappear. No, you didn’t love Spencer, but you loved the feeling of being with him, the feeling of being with someone who felt just as you felt. Who could give you just as much as you could give and nothing more.

You didn’t understand why you could be together and not in this strange limbo you’d been in since meeting.

Now, though, every sound seemed amplified by the loss of your relationship. You decided as you exited the park, watching the clouds move together, the when you got home, you’d call M— and tell her everything you’d kept a secret.

And you were ready to do exactly that when a message from Spencer came through your phone. You hesitated, you’d already changed out of your day clothes and had slid into some pijamas.

Old habit must die hard, you thought and you clicked the notification.

Let me come over. Was all it said and cursing yourself, you texted back, okay.

An hour later Spencer was entering your apartment, you weren’t sure why you’d both had the urge to speak to each other in person. Over the phone seemed too…careless you supposed, and well, this wasn’t a careless topic.

“Do you want something to drink?” You tried to lessen the tension, but he shook his head and answered no.

You sighed and followed him to the couch. You avoided sitting too close to each other, some unknown force separating you from making that mistake. “We need to talk.” Your heart sank, but you knew it was coming. You knew he was right. You’d told yourself the same thing–but you weren’t ready. This was too soon.

“Spencer–”

“No, —, we need to have it out.” His voice was firm and offered no room for protest. A sigh escaped his lips and it was guttural. He was shuddering and you hate how it made you feel better about yourself. You hated how you were grateful this was just as hard for him as it was for you.

“I know…” It was the hardest admission you ever said, you should have been saying ‘I do’, today was your wedding day after all–or at least it would have been had things turned out different. You fought the urge to cry and turned away, “I know.”

He took a breath and swallowed, eyes gleaming over, “—, look at me.” You pressed your lips together and squeezed your eyes, trying to slow the fast pacing of the blood pumping through your veins. Across the dim lighting of your apartment, the TV muted, but on, you met his gaze, and there it was–everything neither of you had ever said out loud was there, it was pain and grievance and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you but I don’t love you like I should’ all wrapped into one.

There was no doubt in your mind that your expression mimicked his, and he traced every line of your testimony, appreciating and accepting it as he accepted his own and allowed you to look into his mind for a few seconds–the last few seconds he had of you. He didn’t want to leave you crying, he didn’t want to remember you like that, and he didn’t want you to remember him in that way–so he smiled. It was sad, but it was warm, and for that, you smiled back.

You only cried once the door shut behind him. And you cried and cried and cried, and when you were done, you deleted his number, hesitating over the button before pressing your eyes together and clicking it–your heart and mind working together to tell you you’d be okay. To tell you that you were always going to be okay, and then you finally cried for Spencer and his mystery lover whom he’d never spoke about, but knew he’d lost. He never had to say her name, she was there in the corner of his eyes. She was there perched on the edge of his desk, when you walked into his home library and ran your fingers along his titles, she was there, a ghost, a whisper, but she was there, L— never seemed to be too far behind.

For what it was worth, you were glad you got to know him, even if it was only half.

The light fading into your living room found its way wrapped around your neck and highlighted your face, creating a certain glow. “You look great,” M— smiled, “but are you sure you’re ready?”

“It’s been a month,” you frowned, “and didn’t you say I’d never ‘be ready’?”

She laughed softly, “Yeah, I think I did say something like that, but seriously, are you sure?”

The apartment was practically empty with boxes straying to and fro, the only thing you still had out was the full-length mirror that sat near your front door, the one in which you spun around in now. “I’m fine, I have to be, right? To move on, or something?”

“Is that what they say in therapy nowadays?”

“Quit acting like my grandmother.” She rolled her eyes but met your smile with one of her own.

“So,” she said as you locked the door behind you, “what did they say?”

You huffed, heading toward your car in the parking lot, “Well, they said that I need to be on my very best behavior, but,” you grinned, showing a bit of teeth, “I am not going to be fired!”

“That’s really great, —, I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” you bit your cheek, “me too.”

The cemetery wasn’t lively, though you didn’t expect it to be, there were a few single people, mostly old relatives, likely visiting late lovers, a few younger kids, likely visiting late parents or maybe they were just like you, visiting youtheir would-be husband or wife, going over all the things that could have been.

“There he is,” M— pointed.

“I remember,” you nodded, sure, it was almost five months ago, but you recalled every moment you spent here. You hated this place, it was gloomy and it sucked the color out of everything living. But L— was here and you had to see him, you had to explain that what you had been doing wasn’t on purpose and that you were surely on your way to getting better. You told him you had started to look forward to your therapy sessions again and that you and M— had made up. You were active at work more often now and you called both his and your parents regularly.

You also wanted to tell him about Spencer, even though he’d entered your life and left it like a blitz snowstorm, it wouldn’t be fair to not include him, it wouldn’t be fair to ignore the relationship you had with him. Not saying anything would be lying.

“Do you want some privacy?” M— asked, looking around.

You nodded, “yeah, please?”

“Okay, I’ll be over there.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, watching as you smiled sadly and nodded. “Just…right over there.” She walked toward the trees that surrounded the yard and leaned against a great oak., pulling out a pack of cigarettes for L—, lighting, but not smoking it–her little tribute to the friend she’d lost.

Spencer got home from work rather late, well–early, if he took into account the time. He was tired, but something kept him awake. His insomnia had decreased somewhat, his dreams of Maeve were ever present, but they’d begun to deescalate. His mind was no longer recounting the affairs of her death nor the circumstances leading up to it.

He’d become more active at work, his brain working faster than it had on the case he’d just closed than it had in the past few months. He showered, then made his way to the kitchen, thinking to brew some coffee. But his satchel caught his eye, not his satchel in particular, but one of the items hidden within.

He hesitated a moment before making his way toward his couch, where it lay. Upon opening the flap, he found what he knew to be concealed. He didn’t have x-ray vision–though if a thing like that existed in humans, he was sure he would’ve–he knew he hadn’t taken it out yet, and some part of him was ready to–not to move on just yet, but to begin the process of letting go.

He smiled and tugged the book into his arms. He made a decision right then. So, Spencer brewed his pitcher of coffee and headed toward his stationary desk, settling The Narrative of John Smith to the side. He poured the pure brown liquid into a mug, making sure to add ten to eleven sugar cubes and ¼th cups of creamer before mixing..

After taking a sip and apporcing it, he grabbed a coaster right and settled back at his desk.

He took another sip and savored it, placing it back down in exchange for a pen and paper, readying himself to write.

The words came out uncertain at first, but as he figured out what he wanted to say, it became a little simpler. ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’ he wrote more than a few times and he was sure if he read it back to himself he’d find he’d become illiterate. And he mentioned her. How could he not? She was enough to make him go crazy, the reaction he’d had that day at the park with her–it had meant something. Even if it was anger. Not like the one he’d shown Emily, where he was angry because she was right. It was more than even she had seen; more than his mother.

He referenced the quote by Thomas Merton, her last thought to him before everything went wrong, and responded with a quote he belived fit perfectly.

“It is not violence that best overcomes hate–nor vengeance that most certainly heals injury,” Charlotte Brontë. And so, I leave you, not with hate for abandoning me, nor vengeance for loving my soul. I leave you with tenderness, my once-in-a-lifetime.

Spencer folded the letter in half after signing it and sealed it within an envelope. He slipped the casing into the front of the book, where her quote resided, and stood, shelving it between his favorite authors, right in the middle, and then Spencer cried. His wails nearly shook the building, a neighbor came by later on that morning to ask if he was alright, and Spencer replied that, yes, he was alright. And he felt alright. Something he hadn’t truthfully felt in a very long time.

Time passed like the hours in a high school day; with each month, you felt better, your head clearer. The month was January and perhaps you shouldn’t have been thinking about it, but you couldn’t help it. You were human after all.

Merely human.

With hands stuffed into your coat, you pushed through the crowd of people and crossed the street. You weren’t hoping for anything, not even closure. The sky grayed but it made you smile–a year ago it would have made you grimmer. You closed your eyes and sucked in everything you could, the smell of freshly baked goods in a nearby shop, the dozen’s of perfumes from people as they circled you, the noise of everyday society buzzed in your ears, and that familiar jazz singer’s voice strained to hit that familiar note as you stepped into the coffeehouse.

You thought about ordering first, but you wanted to sit and enjoy it for a minute, something you didn’t have the chance to do when you still lived on this side of town. You tugged out your phone and brushed back a lock of hair behind an ear.

Scrolling social media for a minute, you smiled when you noticed the case Spencer and his team had just closed. You’d found him on accident when a coworker you often spent your lunches with sent you an article about some serial killer and the man that had brought him to justice–who just happened to be a guest speaker for one of younger brother’s professors.

Spencer Reid, FBI agent. You had laughed at the irony, but you then took to following the cases here and there, happy he was moving on from whatever had pained him so.

You read over the short article, then replied to a few text messages from people you had yet to get back to. When you finished, you rolled your neck from side to side and stretched, pulling a book out of your purse. It was new, a gift from Christmas from L—’s mom. It wasn’t your favorite genre, but it was romance and the beginning was just heartbreaking. You were so enhanced by the words on the page, that you didn’t notice the man sitting in the corner of the shop, using a newspaper to hide his head, though he wasn’t hiding it this time, he was reading it.

Spencer spotted you the moment before you stepped into the coffee shop, right before you pulled open the door and made the bell at the top jingle. He didn’t try hiding his face, but he tried not to pay too much attention to you.

The year for him had gone by rather quickly compared to the time he’d fought against his addiction. He felt better, a lot better–whereas a year ago he couldn’t imagine where he’d be in a month.

Spencer had found his thoughts drifting toward you this morning, something he hadn’t expected. He thought about you not often, but at times, he’d wonder about you, about where you were, and if you ever thought about him. He’d wonder if you–by chance–ever saw him on TV, wonder if you ever kept up with him–which was a dumb question, of course, you’d moved on with your life. Why would you care?

But you were here, you were here and he wondered too, if this were a coincidence, or simply the power of an unseen force.

He debated with himself, scared he would make the wrong decision either way he chose. Eventually, he closed his eyes, sucked in a breath, and let it out, a slow, gentle smile replacing the once-before strained expression. He decided and if this decision damned him, then he could ask for forgiveness, but leaving without saying anything, felt like a crime in its own right, apart from that, a part of him missed you.

So, Spencer stood and walked in your direction, setting the newspaper on the table as he’d done a year ago, although this time he folded it neatly, a happy reflection of what his life had become.

He would have sat down, but he didn’t know if you wanted to see or speak with him, so he ramined standing and awkwardly said, “Hey…” his voice cracking had him clearing his throat right after.

You looked up and for a moment, he was sure you would sneer, but you didn’t, you smiled, and you said, “Hey…” back.

“Mind if I sit?” he motioned for the chair in front of you.

You shut the cover of your book, using the string to save your place and waved a hand,“not at all.”

He took up residence calmly, and upon noting the book, raised an eyebrow and asked, “What are you reading?”

“Jane Eyre, funnily enough,” because a year ago, you wouldn’t have ever thought to tackle something as classic as that.

His eyes widened slightly as his mind reminisced about the end of his letter to Maeve, tucked securely within The Narrative of John Smith. “Really?”

“Yep,” you nodded, running a hand over the cover, “it was a gift from L—’s mother.”

“L—?” He raised a brow, wondering if you were seeing someone now. He was happy for you, but he couldn’t deny the slight sinking of his heart.

“My late finacé,” you smiled brightly.

“Oh…” his chest contracted, your fiancé, your late fiancé–the finacé who was no doubt the reason for your diminishing essence a year ago, when you’d met.

“She said I’d like it, and I do–so far.”

“I kind of feel like Mr. Rochester,” he said abruptly. “Right now… Just a bit.”

You tilted your head, your smile reaching your eyes and it was the most beautiful thing Spencer had ever seen. He didn’t remember you smiling like that. He didn’t recall the sheer happiness of being here, of being alive–of living. “I haven’t gotten that far, so I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled, “Right, sorry.”

Your heart fluttered at his tone, it wasn’t like the stoic, grim one he used when you used to know him, but maybe this was the real Spencer–the one before he’d lost whomever he had. The question sat at the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t quite force it out. “Don’t be, I’ll know eventually.”

He smiled and by everything–that smile was one you could get used to. But you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself, so you simply sighed.

“I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home–my only home.”

You thought.

Charlotte Brontë.

a/n: 100 post–uhm, gasp?

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

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