#but for now it will remain in the soup that is my brain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bippot · 5 months

Text

Summary: Working with his wife usually comes easy to Spencer but when a woman identical to her is found dead, it becomes a little bit harder to deal with. Especially when she's determined to find the guy by whatever means she has at her disposal.

Criminal Minds, Dr Spencer Reid Masterlist - here

Additional Tags: Married Couple, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Serial Killers, Canon-Typical Violence, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, Brief weight gain mention, Pregnancy, Reader is a Member of the BAU (Criminal Minds), Protectiveness, Angst with a Happy Ending

In all her time of knowing him, Y/N had never seen Spencer be rageful. He was annoyed by small minded cops constantly. Any case that had anything to do with kids caused everyone to be on edge. And he had a sore spot whenever schizophrenia came up in conversation.

He was kind and gentle and frequently had a smile on his face whenever she needed a friendly face, but Y/N knew that deep down, there was a sadness lurking in his soul. He was a lonely man at his core so she tried her very best to make sure she always was there to listen whenever he wanted to rant and tell her facts and vomit word soup out in the open.

Sure, the fact that he was cute was a factor in Y/N's interest in her coworker's words. But it was his genuine need to use that big ol' brain of his to help other people out that really captured her attention. He had a big heart to go along with his big brain, that's why he was so special.

And why she fell in love with him.

"Sorry, one of the officers cornered me and forced me to endure a way too long conversation about bitcoin and now your coffee is getting cold," Y/N announced as she placed Spencer's drink on the desk in front of him. He immediately pulled his focus away from the papers he'd been staring at and shifted it to his wife, causing his entire being to go from slouching down in his chair to perking up in attention.

"How did you get away?" he asked her with a gleam in his eye.

Y/N sat down on the edge of the desk and shrugged. "His shift ended," she answered with a chuckle, taking a sip from her coffee and holding back a wince at how bitter it was.

Whilst she was making it, she had been faced with a decision - use up all the remaining sugar on Spencer's cup so he has it the way he likes or share the sugar between them both and have the one coffee she allowed herself to indulge in per day to taste better. Luckily, he didn't see her distaste for her coffee, or if did, he didn't mention it.

But she did notice when he made a face that she'd seen far too many times. His brows furrowed and crinkled his forehead. Y/N's hand brushed the back of his shoulder tenderly. "Migraine?"

"Just a headache right now."

"Do you want me to go get you anything?"

"No, no, I'm okay," he waved her off. "I'll be fine."

Bullshit. She knew him well enough to know that he was in more distress than he wanted to admit. She jumped off the desk, gave him a scratch right on the crown of his head, and moved to find her bag, rifling through it until she found what she was looking for with a satisfied, "Ah-ha!" Whatever Y/N had found was being shoved in Spencer's direction. He took it without looking, knowing exactly what it was from the crinkle and soft jingling sound that accompanied it, and popped the magnesium out of the packet and tipped a vitamin B gummy from the pot.

"Thank you, honey."

"It's my job to make sure my husband's brain doesn't explode," Y/N told him as he threw the gummy in his mouth. "You're welcome."

"I certainly am," Spencer replied with a cheeky grin, before taking a large gulp of his coffee. His wife rolled her eyes but couldn't resist smiling back.

By the time Y/N had finished her coffee, Hotch was calling for everyone to gather because there had been bodies found. The squad listened as Garcia gave them the update. Four bodies had been found, all of whom had very similar features. As he was watching the photos of the dead women pop up on the screen, Spencer's hand made it to his wife's back, curling her shirt into his fist. Y/N didn't seem to react. Not even when all of the team had looked at her as soon as they realised too.

The victim they'd deduced had been the first of this serial killer was a doppelganger of Y/N. The others looked similar but the first was almost identical to her. Same hair colour, same nose, same eyes, same smirk. There were a few obvious differences due to styling and body weight distribution but they could be sisters. Twins even. Well, at least Y/N knew what she'd look like after being strangled to death and dumped in a mass grave in the middle of nowhere. She never had wanted to know that. Now she did.

Whatever morbid curiosity she had, it had never got that detailed. Hotch knew that Y/N would be able to deal with this. However, he had no idea if Spencer would be. Judging by Reid's clenched jaw and the mortified look in his eyes, he wasn't dealing with being presented with an image of someone who looked like his wife dead in a ditch very well.

"I'll point out the elephant in the room," Y/N began before anyone could say it out loud. She gestured in the general direction of her face. "We could use this to our advantage."

Yeah, she'd been a decoy before and was prepared to do so again. Her situation was slightly different now though.

Spencer's head whipped up. A thousand million zillion alarm bells went off in his head, which was not very pleasant mixed with his headache. "Y/N..." he warned, his voice low and shaky.

"It's an option. That's all I'm saying."

"We'll try a more traditional approach at first, but it may be beneficial for us to keep Y/N out of the public eye just in case we need to go down that route," Hotch stated, which was met with some relief. Not much. Some. He turned fully towards Spencer. "Is that agreeable?"

Humming his agreement - though it didn't sound all that enthusiastic - Spencer was mostly quiet during their discussion about the unsub. The usual points were hit. The unsub is anti-social. He won’t look anyone in the eye. He’s not confident. He's a white male in the 30-45 range. He probably doesn't like his mummy. Spencer spoke up when he thought he had new insight that nobody else had brought up yet, but as soon as Hotch told everyone to get some sleep for the night, Spencer got the hell out of there.

Derek sighed. "Want me to cool him down?" He offered, bumping her in the shoulder with his own. Y/N shook her head and gave him a bump back.

"I will power through the silent treatment,"she told him, and he gave her a few seconds to change her mind before chuckling and stepping away.

Back in their hotel room, Spencer was in the shower when Y/N got back. He'd had a five minute head start and was not wasting that precious time, it seemed.

Officially, the FBI booked two rooms for the married couple as agents have their own rooms instead of sharing most of the time - unless the hotel is fully booked or they're in a romance novel and need to huddle for warmth - so whenever the squad touch down in a new city and settle in, there's a guarantee that one of the Reid's rooms are abandoned. It was a waste of company money.

Working together whilst married had been a weird thing in the beginning. There was a review of how effective Y/N and Reid were by the unit chief when they first declared themselves as a couple to HR, and then another conducted after their wedding. It was decided that there weren't any glaring problems with the two working together - they weren't half as flirty as Morgan and Garcia so maybe that helped them out a bit - so they were allowed to stay in the same unit. That report had said that Agent L/N's reckless nature often conflicted with Dr Reid's anxiousness. Which had been true enough. Sometimes those traits worked well together. Other times...

A pin drop could be heard as the couple got ready for bed. Y/N climbed into her side of the bed and Spencer into his. The room was dark and quiet, and in that silence, Spencer could hear the sound of his heart and that drum beat of terror, and it was almost as loud as a thunderstorm. Could she hear it too? Or was he just afraid that she could?.Both sat with their backs against the headboard, Y/N read her book quietly while Spencer stared into space and tried his best to ignore his wife. The silence stretched on and on, until finally, Spencer felt a hand on the back of his head and fingers softly stroking through his hair. He let out a sigh of relief.

Instantly, the drum in his head stopped. He pressed himself into her side, morphing his body to fit the contours of hers, and - without losing her spot on the page - she let her head tip downwards to give him a kiss on the crown of his head. It was a soft, brief peck and Spencer felt himself yearn for more. "Pay attention to me?" He whined.

An amused huff came from her nose and she placed her book on the bedside table so both hands were free to lavish him with so much petting and loving caresses that he began purring like a cat in no time.

"Better?"

"Much," he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of her warm fingers tracing patterns along his temples, his nose, his cheekbones. Her fingers moved to his chin and tilted it so she could give him a smooch, and Spencer thought he would melt at the pure sweetness of her lips on his.

"I love you," he said, and it felt so natural to say it. It felt so right.

"I know," she replied, sounding just as serious. "I love you too."

Spencer felt a shift in the atmosphere as the tension that had been there evaporated, leaving them to cuddle together and enjoy the rest of the night in each other's arms. Though the issue hadn't been solved, that was okay right now. They'd deal with that tomorrow or whenever it had to be dealt with. Not right now. Not before bed. They'd never gone to bed angry at each other and they weren't going to start today.

Despite seeing her dead doppelganger, Y/N fell asleep pretty quickly. Her husband was so warm at her side and the hotel pillow was so fluffy and comfortable that she was out like a light in no time. Spencer lay awake for a long time, his eyes staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing as he traced a line from one of her hips to the other and back again over and over again, feeling the pouch of her stomach with the very tip of his finger, and his chest was tight with worry.

He didn't know why his mind kept going back to that photograph. Why would his brain choose to relive that? Did he want to torture himself that badly? Maybe if he stayed awake he would be able to protect her from anyone who even thought about hurting her. He'd catch this killer if it was the last thing he ever did.

"I can hear you thinking." His wife's sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts and Spencer let out a small groan. How long he'd been unravelling in his own brain, he had no idea, yet it was long enough for the hoarseness that she usually got after a nap to enter her voice. "Go to sleep, baby," she said. "You're going to be exhausted tomorrow."

"Can't."

"You can."

Y/N pulled his body so that he was fully on top of her and wrapped her arms around him. Spencer felt her start to move her hand up and down his spine in a gentle rhythm and her other hand cupped the back of his head, holding him close as she slowly rocked them side to side. She began to hum a tune, cradling him almost like he was a 6'2" big baby, and let him relax in her arms. It worked. It always did. Within minutes, he was snoring into her shoulder. He did that thing that men do when they suddenly spasm for no apparent reason because their body can't believe it's finally getting some down time, but eventually it evened out.

Once the early morning arrived, Y/N was beginning to stir. She awoke to the soft gentle presses of her husband's lips against the skin of her stomach, his head lifting up the bottom of her sleep shirt to plant a kiss on her belly. For the past month or so, she'd often woken up to him mumbling a hushed conversation to her abdomen. She'd pretended not to hear it and let him continue for as long as he wanted to, thoroughly enjoying his affection and the way it would send a shiver of pleasure straight through her body. And today was no different.

Only when it became clear that he wasn't planning on getting up anytime soon did she begin to move and acknowledge the fact that she was actually awake and aware. Massaging his shoulders, she cooed, "Morning handsome," and he mumbled something unintelligible as he buried his face in her stomach again, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

Reid was not a morning person. Not in the slightest. Y/N had learned very early on that the best way to force him to get up in the morning was to get herself up and he would mimic her. It usually worked like a charm. But this morning, he'd trapped her legs beneath his body and was keeping her hips pinned to the mattress with his. This man was heavy. He was gangly and lanky and looked like a twig but could feel like a tonne of bricks when he wanted to. And he was trying to keep her pinned down, which meant he wanted something.

"Let me up, you big brute," she teased as she wriggled her hips to try to get away from him. Spencer laughed at her attempt and she gave up the moment his big hands landed on her hips to keep them still. He lifted his head up, the smile on his face making his eyes crinkle.

"Morning beautiful."

"I take it you're not ready to get up for work just yet?" He shook his head as he ran his hand up and down her waist, keeping his eyes on hers. "You know we'll have to eventually, right?"

"I do. I also know I'm going to have to be pretty convincing to get you to stay." He pressed a kiss to her navel. "But."

One more kiss placed just under the previous one on her abdomen. "I am."

Another on her pelvis. "Willing."

Two more, one on each thigh, his palms pushing her legs apart to give him more space to settle in the gap. "To. Be."

Finally, he let his lips fall to her underwear-covered pubic bone in the barest whisper of a kiss, one that set off a small firestorm of desire that shot straight to her core. "Very, very convincing."

At the beginning of their relationship, they'd come up with the rule that they wouldn't give in to their desire whilst on the job. When they first got together, that was mostly a way to make them seem as unsuspecting as possible. Their coworkers were profilers for god sake! Even the slightest smudge of her lipstick on the corner of his mouth and Derek would be giving Spencer a patronising clap on the back and a "My man."

Now it was out in the open, it was mainly a professional courtesy. It would look awful if two FBI agents comforted a grieving family with mussed hair and incorrectly buttoned shirts. There were exceptions, though. And why not? They had plenty of time before they were expected to show up at work. They were in the privacy of their hotel room with the nearest member of their team (Emily) six rooms away. The rule could be morphed into a suggestion, and it's easier to ignore suggestions.

"Can I convince you?" He let his lips curl upwards at the corners as he gave her a kiss over her underwear with an exaggerated 'mwah'. He added on a desperate sigh of "Please?" to seal the deal.

"You can try."

"Well then, lie back and enjoy yourself, Mrs Reid," he responded cheekily, pulling her underwear down her thighs and off in the general direction of her suitcase that sat by the dresser.

With that, he got to it. He started by licking and nipping at the inside of her thighs, making sure to get up higher with each bite until his lips touched her clit and he flicked it with his tongue. Her head fell back as she arched into his mouth, giving him better access to do whatever the hell he wanted to her. His hands cupped her butt, keeping her pressed up against his mouth as he worked her into a frenzy.

"Mrs Reid, you are so beautiful."

Her eyes fluttered shut as she let herself go. The pressure of his mouth, his hands, his stubble. Her man could make her come in no time at all. The more he gave her, the more she wanted. And the more she wanted, the more he gave her. It was a lovely cycle that gave them both what they wanted.

The slow slide of his fingers moved under her shirt and up to her bare breasts. He teased her nipples into hard points, his touch sure and demanding, and just was needed to make her moan out his name. "Spencer, oh god, Spence."

Thanks to one particularly forceful suck on her clit, Y/N was grabbing at Spencer's curls, trying to hold him to her while he drove her towards the edge. But it wasn't enough just yet.

"Fingers too, baby."

"Where are your manners, honey?"

"Jesus fucking christ, are you serious?" She huffed and had planned to fully argue some more but gave up almost immediately. "Fine! Please finger me, my loving husband."

"That is more like it."

He kept his eyes locked on hers as he used two fingers to part her folds and slip them inside of her. She was wet and ready for him, and he made quick work of finding her G-spot, mumbling a little "Ah, there it is," when she got a smidge louder. He curled his fingers at the same pace as his tongue swirled around her clit. It was a rough and slow rhythm that made her writhe and squirm.

"Can feel these legs shaking. You close, pretty girl? You want me to keep going, don't you?"

"Uh-huh, keep going."

"Tell me. Say it. Say it all pretty like you always do."

So, she did. Her voice was all breathy and whiny as she got out the words he wanted to hear. "You're so good, gonna cum, gonna cum. So good to me."

Y/N felt her orgasm catch up with her, her muscles tensing up as she was taken over by the wave of pleasure. It swept over her in seconds, stealing her breath and leaving her weak in the knees. She dug her nails into Spencer's shoulders, curling her toes into the bed to keep herself grounded as she felt the aftershocks ripple through her.

"Good job, baby," she praised, grinning down at him. "What's next on the agenda this morning?"

Spencer's smile was so goofy - looking as if he drunk off the taste of her, and maybe he was - as he moved himself back up the bed to kiss her neck, his grin making it impossible for the kisses to be anything but a press of teeth against soft skin. He kissed up and up and up until he reached her ear, whispering, "I’m not done with you yet, honey. If you ask me nicely, I'll fuck you so good," against the shell.

Whenever Spencer swore, it was always surprising to her. And when he swore like that, it sounded more dirty than if a frequently swearing man had done it. As if his mouth was filled with those words but had been pushing them down and down - they'd been sitting there for a while, just brewing - and in the wait, had grown a mind of their own.

"C'mon, Spence, get your cock out and put it in me already. I wanna feel you, please?" she asked, exaggerating the 'please' so he couldn't call her rude again.

"Yeah, you want more?" he teased, squeezing her ass in his big palm.

"Damn right, I do."

"I'll get right to it then, my pretty baby."

As he nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing the skin there, let her head fall back on the pillow, let out a giggle when he bit at her jaw and pushed his head away, laughing even harder when he tried to playfully bite her fingers.

"Weirdo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But you're married to me so that makes you Mrs Weirdo by default. You signed yourself up for all this, honey."

Tugging his boxers down, she gave him a light a slap on the ass, the sound of smack loud in the quiet of the room. "Married you just for the marital tax deduction," she joked, but she couldn't help but mischievously grin so he absolutely knew she was just messing around. Obviously she told him that she loved him lots yet he still struggled to comprehend that some days. So, she made sure whenever she teased him that he was fully aware that she didn't mean it.

"And I married you because I love you," he responded, far more sincerely than she had thought he would've, and positioned himself at her entrance, his cock jutting up against her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him in deep. "And I love making you feel good."

The slow, teasing pace of their foreplay was broken by his sudden, hard thrust as he entered her. It was so intense, and the way he held her hips pressed against his, grinding into her and pinning her to the bed with his weight, was so possessive and so deliberate that it left her breathless.

At first, it always took a moment - just a small one - where he rested his forehead on her shoulder and let them both adjust to the feeling of him inside her. But then, he was never one to rush, and he'd make sure they both felt entirely comfortable. And once they were, his hand gripped her ass cheek, and he pumped into her in a slow, steady rhythm. "I love fucking you, Y/N," he murmured, the words thick with feeling. "So goddamn perfect, you. I'm never letting you go."

It was a line he'd used on her a lot. I'm never letting you go. You are my world. My universe. My life. And I am yours, and you are mine. They were such simple statements but they said exactly what they needed to. Because she knew they were true.

Y/N wrapped her arms around his back, curling her body against his as he began to move, his thrusts getting more frantic and his kisses more desperate. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she arched her back in a desperate attempt to bring him closer, to feel him even deeper, to feel him harder. His breath was harsh, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs and pulling them closer to her chest as he fucked her.

"I love you so much, Y/N. You're my everything. You're my... my..." he trailed off, hitting a hard thrust into her. " You're my life. I can't believe I get to wake up every morning next to you. Let's quit our jobs and stay in bed forever, you and me. Just you and me. Don't you want that? Don't you want that more than anything?"

One thing is for certain, he'd go mad if he had no cases to figure out like a sinister rubix cube. But Y/N, well, she'd often thought about what her life would be like if she left the BAU behind. Profiling was in the very fabric of Spencer's DNA, and without his cases, he'd be lost.

"Forever in bed with you, baby? I'll take it."

"Uh-huh, you take it, honey," he mumbled into her skin, his hips hitting a spot that sent a shockwave of delight through her core. "You take it so good."

A whimper escaped her lips as he increased his tempo, his hips slamming against her in a way that made her feel cherished, like she was his only source of joy in their hectic, difficult life. Y/N arched her back, her orgasm building, her body tensing, every muscle tightening in anticipation. They were both so close, so desperate for each other, that Spencer used his one hand to keep his wife's ankle over his shoulder and the other was pushing her thigh as far open as her flexibility allowed to get as deep as he physically could inside of her. "Baby, I'm going to..." he managed to say, his voice strained, his breathing heavy.

Then, with a final thrust, he came. Not just the usual orgasmic feeling that came with a good fuck, but a burst of energy so strong it knocked the breath out of her and sent her tumbling over the edge of pleasure, falling into a blissful, fucked out headspace for the next however many minutes.

Spencer collapsed on top of her, every muscle in his body tingling. "That was..." he couldn't even believe it. "So good. I'm not sure I'll ever top that." He laughed, a full-body, carefree sound that was the best thing she'd ever heard. Y/N laughed, too, watching as he rolled off of her and onto his back, his hair falling in a ruffled, sexy mess around his face. It was impossible to resist running her fingers through his hair, the feeling of his thick, curly locks against her hand so comforting, so calming.

"We should shower."

"I thought you wanted to quit our jobs and stay in bed forever?" Y/N parroted his words back to him, rolling onto her side to face him.

"We smell of sex." He got out of bed and held his hands out to his wife to help her to her feet. "Come on, stinky."

By the time they were showered and dressed, none of their coworkers would know how Spencer had made her go briefly brain dead that very morning.

This case wasn't solved on their first visit. The unsub had either been tipped off or was closely following the investigation and went dormant for enough time that Hotch moved them on, which wasn't an unusual thing to happen. It was annoying, though.

There was some guy out there whose perfect victim was Y/N. Even as they got on with their lives and solved other cases, that fact remained in the back of Spencer's head. He couldn't forget it - mostly because he doesn't forget anything - but he knew that if he hadn't been born with this gift, that it would be the same. With this guy still out in the world, Y/N was in danger every time she went out in public. It was hard to breathe while he was thinking about that.

Two months later, the unsub killed again and the team was brought back. This time Spencer was determined to find him.

The same officer who'd lectured her about bitcoin once again cornered Y/N, but this time, she had her husband by her side. Previously, he'd been a little pushy but once Y/N had told him that she was in a relationship, he backed off. Now, he greeted her with, "I remember you being slimmer."

What? Did he think that was an acceptable way to say hello?

"Funny, I have an eidetic memory - that means I remember just about anything I deem important - and I don't remember you. Weird," Spencer shot back, his tone icy.

Instantly, the officer's jaw dropped. "I, um, I just - "

"We've been on the jet for the past few hours, mind giving us some space?" Spencer suggested and the officer flushed a bright red, backing off immediately. Y/N caught Spencer's eye and gave him a quick squeeze on the bicep to say thanks, and was rewarded with a wink that was far too flirty for a work environment.

Garcia gave them another rundown of the case, briefly going over what they had before and adding the new revelations at the end. The killer had fucked up. The most recent victim had bite marks on her shoulder so they had a very good insight at what the killer's teeth looked like. Whoever he was, he was missing his top canines and if they were to look into his mouth, there would be an obvious gap.

Part way through Garcia's rundown Spencer very subtly reached into his pocket, pulled out a granola bar and slid it towards his wife. She ate it with a smug little smile on her face.

"That's new," Emily pointed out. "There was no bite mark at the last crime scene."

"Biting as a form of attack is usually used as an act of self defence," Derek added.

Hotch let out a gruff noise, one that was toneless and no indicator of whether he thought that was a correct assumption or not. He had a talent for that - bland, unemotional responses that encourages more discussion without leaning the conversation one way or the other.

"That would only make sense if the marks were inflicted perimortem or pre-mortem, but judging by the lack of redness and blood splatter around the puncture of the skin, this bite was done post mortem," Spencer explained, gesturing with the tip of his pen at the area around the teeth marks.

"This guy has escalated to biting his victim's after he's killed them, why?" Y/N posed the question once she'd finished chewing and the room was silent for a second before Rossi spoke up.

"A killer I interviewed back in the early 90's did the same thing. For him, he believed he was absorbing the life essences from his victims, he was consuming what little of them remained when he bit them."

Emily let out a bitter scoff. "Even after taking their lives, it's still not enough for this guy. He needs to annihilate what's left of their soul."

"Maybe he thinks he's collecting souls for the afterlife like how Zodiac believed his victim's would become his slaves once he passed on?" Y/N thought out loud and the room went still, all of them thinking it simultaneously.

"Whatever the case, the guy is a freak," Derek stated, and they all nodded in agreement because yeah. He was a freak.

Just before they'd gone off into their own research teams, Hotch called put, "Y/N, would you mind holding back a few minutes? I need to speak with you," and although she knew she hadn't done anything to warrant a stern talking to, it still felt like being sent to the principal's office.

"I'll catch up with you in a sec, Spence."

Closing the door once Spencer was on the other side, Hotch sighed. "I know what your answer will be but I feel obligated to ask, do you want to give this one a miss?"

Y/N looked over at him and the corners of her mouth turned up just a little. "You think I'm going soft, Aaron?" She teased, and he grinned at her.

"I know Reid's been giving you an earful."

"He always does."

Something that sounded like a chuckle came from Hotch's throat but it died before it could fully form as his eyes caught the opened case file on the desk, the photo of Y/N's dead doppelganger paperclipped in the corner of the page. "And if we run out of options?"

"As long as you can guarantee that I can blame everything on you so Spencer doesn't stay mad at me for the next year, I'm still up for being a decoy," she clarified. "We've got to catch this guy."

"I will take the blame."

"You better."

Eventually, they found everything about the guy. Garcia cross referenced this with that and then that with this to find out the guy's name was Leyton Hart, his father died when he was young and his mother was an addict who he was still living with despite the fact he was raised mostly by his next door neighbour, a young girl that was only a few years older than him. This neighbour, who they became aware was once called Isla Wiley, was the first victim. She was Y/N's doppelganger.

Infuriatingly, the only thing they couldn't find was where the hell he was now. He wasn't at home, nor at the smart car customer help desk he worked at. They checked his credit cards, they tried calling his cell, they checked with his boss and his mum, nothing.

"You think he's left the area?" Derek asked.

"It's not impossible," Emily replied. "He went dormant for months once we'd caught his scent, he may be prepared to do it again."

Spencer began, "If we could draw him out -" and stopped as soon as his brain caught up with his mouth. He cleared his throat. "Ignore that."

Rossi could see the silent conversation Y/N and Hotch were having and decided that he'd be the bad guy in this scenario to save both of them from doing it. "No, that could work, Reid. And we have an asset to do so," David announced, readying himself for whatever was about to happen to happen.

"Y/N is not an asset, she is a person! And we can't risk a member of our team in the hopes of catching this guy! Her being on this case is risky enough as it is!"

Reid's chest was rising and falling faster as he tried to keep his temper in check. His vision was getting more red by the second. His fingers were drumming against the table. The blood was rushing to his ears. He felt sick.

"We are not risking my wife's safety to catch this guy!"

Y/N rested her hand over Spencer's, her middle finger tracing over his wedding ring. "This could be our best shot," she said quietly, and he knew at that exact moment that the subject had been brought up with her beforehand and she hadn't mentioned it to him.

He felt sicker than he'd ever felt in his life.

"I don't care!"

"Spencer," Y/N said sternly, her tone made it very clear she was warning him to stop and think about this before he said something he couldn't take back. She squeezed his fingers gently, her thumb rubbing along his knuckles before he whipped his hand away.

"God, I can't believe you're putting this before everything else."

"We could save a bunch more women. Think of the families, Spencer. We have a chance to give them some peace."

"What about my family? Do you really think I'm going to just -" He was shaking his head as he spoke, trying his best to find a way to reason with her, to convince her to stop. He knew he was failing. And because he was failing, he decided to take himself out of the situation before he said something drastic and lost his job. "You know what, good luck, honey. I'll be waiting for you if you come home."

And he walked out of the conference room, slamming the door behind him. Y/N rubbed at her eyes, taking a few deep breaths and letting out a groan. "Well, that went spectacularly," she mumbled, then rubbed her neck as she looked over at Hotch. "Sorry about that."

"He'll come around," Morgan said.

Prentiss agreed. "Eventually."

"If I had to guess, putting this bozo behind bars will speed that process up." Rossi reached across the desk and patted Y/N affectionately on the hand. "Trust me, I've been married enough times by now to know."

Raising an eyebrow, Hotch posed the question 'Are you still on board with this?' with just his face and only confirmed, "Let's start planning," when she nodded.

While the squad figured out the details, Y/N went in search of her husband. They may have differing opinions on what should go down but she still wanted to comfort him and make sure he was okay. She found him in the back seat of their hire car outside eating a sandwich, taking big aggressive bites, and staring off into the parking lot bush in front of the windscreen. He didn't even look up when he heard her open the door and sit in the seat on the other side of the car. He chewed, swallowed, and kept on looking.

Wordlessly, she slid across to the middle seat and let her head fall onto his shoulder. He didn't move, just kept on chewing, his Adam's apple bobbing as it swallowed the last of his food. After a while, he sighed and leaned back in the seat, resting his head on the headrest as he closed his eyes.

"I know you're worried, baby," she said softly, stroking his arm to get a little more of his attention. "But I can do it, and I will. I don't need you to protect me but I'm very touched that you did. Thank you for looking out for me."

"You're welcome," he replied bitterly. "I'd say you're all set to go then, yeah?"

"Babe..."

She smiled sadly, cradling his head in her palm. He'd been through a lot in his life, she knew that. She'd been there for a lot of it. A lot had gone on back when they were just pals. And even more had happened now they were something different. Going off the basis of his experiences, his concern was fully warranted.

"I'm so selfish. I care about you and I love you and I don't want anyone to touch a hair on your head. This guy... this guy shouldn't get to breathe the same air you do after what he's done." He opened his eyes and finally focused on her, the light of the setting sun illuminating his face in such a way that it made him look like a sad angel. "I can't lose you too, baby."

"If I don't, more women will die."

"If you die, my entire world ends," he choked out, his entire face contorted with misery. "It would be like the sun went out. As if I was a pontifex and my Goddess had been suddenly ripped from my hands, and there was nothing I could do about it."

Obviously, she couldn't guarantee her survival. They both knew that. Y/N closed her eyes and held her breath, trying not to cry as she felt him grip on her jacket, digging his fingers into her elbow as if to anchor her there. She couldn't bring herself to say anything though. She could hear the anguish in his voice, the horror of it, and it was all her fault for being born with the face she had.

The hand on her elbow moved down to find her hip as he pulled her closer into him, resting on her stomach when he was satisfied with the lack of space between them. She rested her head against his shoulder and let herself feel his pain.

"We'll get him," she whispered. "We'll catch this bastard. And we'll get through this."

Tilting her chin up, she caught his lips with hers in a gentle kiss and held on for just a moment before pulling back. "You had a club sandwich," she pointed out playfully, tasting what was left on his lips and feeling her smile broaden. "Making me kinda hungry."

"Let's go get you some lunch."

Before she had comprehended what he said, he was getting out and moving into the driver's seat. They left to get some food - getting in an order for what everyone else on the team wanted whilst they were there - and smoothed out their emotional spikes to settle into a more stable state to prepare for later on.

Then later came. Y/N had been dressed up in an outfit similar to one that Isla had been photographed in - a stripy shirt, denim dungaree and espadrilles - and told to phone the customer service desk for the smart car they'd given her for breakdown help. Once Leyton Hart, who'd managed to reroute the calls that were supposed to go to his work computer to his personal cell, had confirmed that he was on his way to the secluded patch of road Y/N had 'broken down' at, it was a waiting game.

Most of the team were not that far away, around 30 yards behind a thicket of trees. Far enough away to not be seen if he wasn't looking too hard and close enough that they'd be able to make it to help Y/N out in a minute if she needed it.

Sitting in the car, Y/N listened to the hum of the radio and let her legs dangle off the seat and out into the opened door, swinging them to the beat until Penelope warned her, "Incoming!" through comms and she stopped immediately. Y/N could feel him coming, sense him even though she couldn't see him just yet. "Here we go," Penny told the others, keeping her voice low and her eyes glued on the road ahead as his pickup truck came into view.

There was no mistaking the man in the truck. Y/N's gut twisted and she tasted bile in the back of her throat at the sight of him as he got out of the truck and strode towards her. She painted a smile on her face, greeting him with a friendly, "Hi, you are a lifesaver! This stupid car just -"

Before she could finish her sentence, he did something they never predicted he'd do and whacked her in the temple with a ratchet wrench. Y/N's body went limp and she slumped into Leyton's waiting arms as her vision went dark.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!" was all Spencer could manage to get out of his mouth as he ran forward to reach her before she was placed in the back of the truck. Hotch raced after him and managed to tackle him to the grass before Leyton noticed them, which would compromise Y/N even further.

Spencer's worst fears were becoming a reality. A serial killer just drove off with the love of his life and his boss had prevented him from intervening.

However much time later, Y/N winced herself awake and looked blearily around. She had no idea how long she'd been out, but she knew for sure she was not in a good situation. She had a throbbing headache and her neck was sore from being arched over for what felt like hours. And she was on a very dirty and gross floor with one hand cuffed to a radiator. It was dark, which she thought was probably for the best for her headache, and cold. She was shivering as she tried to blink the blurriness out of her eyes and get her bearings.

For now, she was alone.

There was no telling how long she'd been out for. Minutes? Hours? A couple of them? It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she was alive and that she had to get out of here..Grimacing against the pain, she rolled onto her side and pushed herself to a sitting position. The world tilted a bit and she grabbed the edge of the nearest wall to steady herself. The cuffs cut into her wrists and her ankles were getting achy. Overall, it wasn't a great time.

Then, the sound of a key in a lock and the door to the warehouse creaked open, light from the outside glinting dully off the metal floor. "Hello Isla," a deep voice said. "Didn't expect you to be awake."

Going along with this fantasy of his would probably be best. That would give the team time to find them. If there was one thing Penelope was good at was finding a needle in a haystack and, by the look of her surroundings, they were a small needle.

Wherever she was, it was so basic that nothing really stuck out. There was only the radiator she was attached to, a sturdy looking wooden chair, and a cardboard box with a children's book on the top. No windows, concrete floor, metal door, and an industrial overhead lamp that Leyton switched on with a flick of his wrist.

"I knew you'd come back to me," Leyton said, a gleam in his eye. "I knew you would if I gathered enough souls to bargain. You said we could watch cartoons when you came back, can we watch cartoons?"

"Of course we can," Y/N said with a grin. She struggled to ignore the aching in her neck and the twinge in her arms and legs as she spoke. "We can watch whatever you want to watch."

"Whatever?"

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Leyton smiled, leaned his head in closer to hers, and whispered, "I'm so glad you're back." Y/N shivered and pushed away the sudden urge to puke, not only because his breath wasn't the best but this creep was so close to her face she could see his spit in his mouth. "You know, you're not going to leave me ever again, right?

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said softly.

Like a child, he jumped up and down on the spot. They'd classified this guy as an organised killer, a sophisticated guy that plans his kills and chooses his moments. But his current demeanour had proven otherwise. This guy was someone who had been stunted socially as a young teen and desperately needed this kind of affection and approval. Maybe he'd devolved.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't want to."

"You did what you had to. I understand that," she lied. "You were protecting me."

"Yes! I was! I'm so glad you can see that now!"

Y/N coughed, hiding the way her face fell by itching her cheek with her shoulder as soon as he looked away from her. As soon as he heard her cough, all of a sudden, he scrambled onto the floor and plonked his head down in her lap. "There, there, Isla," he said, stroking her thigh. "I'm sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry."

Having a serial killer cuddle up to you was weird, to say the least.

"I f-forgive you," she stuttered, before looking down at him with shining eyes and hesitantly reaching her free hand towards his hair. His eyes widened and he leaned further into her hand as he waited for her to touch him. Her fingertips brushed against his thick hair as she caressed the top of his head.

They stayed in that position for more time than Y/N would care to admit.

There was a pang of something in her chest as she watched him nuzzle into her hand and close his eyes as if in bliss. She didn't have time to really feel any sort of pity for Leyton since the metal door suddenly burst open and Spencer came into view, his gun out in front of him.

"Step away," Spencer hissed as he came to a stop in front of her. His face was furious as he cocked his head to the side. "Keep your hands off her."

"But she's mine," Leyton said, a look of innocent bewilderment on his face that soon changed to mindless fury as he pulled himself free of her lap and charged at this random guy pointing a gun at him.

Instead of shooting the killer, Spencer chucked his weapon to the ground and swung at the guy, his fist connecting with Leyton's cheek and then getting another blow to his stomach as he doubled over. Spencer landed punch after punch after punch on the killer's face and body, and Leyton got a few good jabs in before he dropped like a sack of potatoes, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. Yet, Spencer still wasn't done. He was vicious. It was cruel.

And it was the most spiteful thing she'd ever see her husband do.

Derek rushed into the room with Emily hot on his heels. Morgan got Reid by the waist and yanked him away from the fight just as he got another shot in. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and backed away from Leyton, who was coughing and spitting up blood onto the concrete floor. Spencer gave a look of disgust as he stepped away from the twitching Leyton and came to a stop in front of Y/N. His chest heaved as he wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve, slumping to sit in front of her as he dropped to the ground.

"Hi honey," he said, leaning in and touching the bump on her forehead with his index finger. "You're bleeding."

"So are you."

"That was... that was..." He shook his head, not knowing how to describe the fight.

"It was," she replied. "I'm glad you won."

"Me too."

As Derek cuffed Leyton Hart, Emily was searching around for the keys to let Y/N out of her cuffs. The moment she was free, Y/N flung herself into her husband's arms and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent and listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. She pulled away and looked into his eyes. "You didn't sleep," she commented, seeing the heavy bags under his eyes and noticing how strong the scent of coffee emanating from him was. He always smelt a little like coffee but this was, BANG, right in your face and kind of overwhelming.

"Couldn't."

The floor was a thick layer of grime and old blood covering it so Y/N guided Spencer to stand and pushed him out of the door. In the heat of the moment, he seemed to be fine with all the germs but once his adrenaline depleted itself, he would get very agitated about it. She knew that for certain.

Soon enough, Hotch sorted everything out and after a quick trip to the medic, the couple were allowed to retreat to their hotel room to clean up and rest. On her way past her boss, Hotch stopped her to ask if she was okay, how many days off would she like and, "Who knew Dr Reid could be that - what's the word? - defensive?"

"Leyton Hart put his wife and child on the line, that's a lot to defend, I guess."

"Get some rest, L/N."

"Aye aye, captain."

They got to the hotel room in no time, both in desperate need for a reprieve from other people.

"I'm sorry," Spencer said, his breath hitching as he spoke. "About everything. I just... I couldn't control myself. I don't know what happened."

"This is totally fucked up for me to say but you looked hot - totally scary and intense and, honestly, I could go through my life and be happy if I never saw that side of you again - but, yeah, kinda sexy," Y/N admitted, bending over to start the taps on the bath tub.

"Oh. I, uh, I don't know how to compartmentalise that."

"That's okay. I don't either."

After having a preliminary shower to get most of the dirt off before Y/N got in the bath, she sunk into the warm water, leaning her head back against the tile wall as she closed her eyes and let the stress of the day wash over her. She tried not to disturb Spencer who had decided that it was now his turn to take a shower. He would be scrubbing himself with antibacterial soap for the next few minutes so she could just lay back and listen to the odd sounds her husband would make every now and then as he scoured every inch of his skin with his silicone bath brush that he brought with them wherever they went.

If he was on a deserted island - first off: sand, ew - and he could bring one thing, he'd probably bring that brush. ...Or a flare gun.

When he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist and knelt on the tiles next to the bathtub, looking at her as she lay there, soaking in the water.

"You okay?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You sure?"

"Yep."

"We need to talk about this, you know?" he retorted, running his hand down the length of her arm and conjoining their hands. He perched his chin on the porcelain. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Did he do anything that might've hurt the baby?"

"Not that I know of. We should make an appointment just to make sure."

Her thumb rubbed against his knuckles, hoping to ease some of the redness from his skin. "Let me kiss it all better, baby," she murmured, letting her lips fall to his bicep. Then to his forearm. The wrist. The palm. Then she turned his hand over so she could press gentle kisses to his busted knuckles. His fingers were long and slender and looked too delicate to hurt - or cause such damage - but they had, and now they were all busted up.

The few punches Leyton managed to get on him were mostly to the face. He had a black eye on the right and a red jaw on the other. Y/N was quick to cover those areas with love. Spencer watched her attentively, a million emotions and reactions dancing across his face as he tried to reconcile all the things he was feeling. But, for now, all he could do was accept whatever affection she thought he was worth.

He leaned forward and gently kissed her, tasting the faintest hint of blood on her lips, then he kissed her again, and again, and again, until she was drowning in the taste of him and had to break apart for a moment to breathe. When they finally came up for air, Y/N guided her husband's head to rest in the crook of her neck and shoulder, kissing his temple and running her fingers through his hair. They stayed like that, embracing in the bathroom, until the water grew cold and they moved their embrace to the couch.

Spencer pulled Y/N onto his lap, her knees digging into the crevice between couch cushions on either side of Spencer's hips as she settled in. He started by moving his hands up and down her back but couldn't resist the paternal urge to focus his attention on her stomach. His thumbs caressed the underside of her belly, sliding across the stretch of her bump.

For now, she'd been able to hide her pregnancy with baggier clothes but it was soon going to become apparent what was happening.

"I may have let it slip about little Reid to Hotch."

"Well, you're beginning to show and you've been very vocal about how hungry you always are in the office... I assume he already knew," Spencer reassured him, lightly trailing kisses down the side of Y/N's neck and pausing at her collarbone. "I'm sure he knew before we figured it out."

"I'm sure he did.”

She tilted his chin so he had to look into her eyes, smiling when he did so. "It's going to be okay, you know," she continued, eyes bright. "You're going to be a great dad, and we'll get through this." Spencer didn't respond but his eyes were so bright and full of love that she knew he heard her.

Y/N smiled wider, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned in and pressed her lips to her husband's. It was a long, slow, tender kiss that said everything it needed to.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid

339 notes · View notes

sandflakedraws · 4 months

Note

Hi! I have been a huge fan of your art for a long while now; I hope this isn't terribly, horribly rude but do you know when/if commissions will be open again?

It's totally fine if the answer is "not for a long time/ever", I'm just curious because I would love to commission you one day.

Have a lovely day or night, whichever! I will continue to enjoy your art like a delicious soup :)

Don't worry, I don't think this is a rude question! Hopefully the response isn't more than u bargained for.

Alas though, the truest answer is also the vaguest: I'm not??? Sure??

Rather, I'd like to open them again, but I need to be thoughtful about how and when I do it.

recently, the internet landscape has helped shed some light on the subject of ADHD, how it affects people, what forms it can take, and i have had some revelations regarding my relationship to it.

namely that i very . very likely,,, have it.

not sure why it never occurred to me despite having siblings and cousins with it, but either way.

What matters here is that sometimes, my brain constructs a wall of agony around doing a commission. Seemingly at random, it'll hit me with a constant button press of "not gonna! wrong! stop!" I never understood why. I had previously thought that I'd just been having some sort of temporary funk, and that one day I'd wake up and it would just. not be there. Y'know, like my executives would function.

So... it has been common for some very patient, sweet, compassionate commissioners to have waited months, even years before they received what they'd rightfully paid for.

... I hate that I'm capable of that. I don't want to be That Guy.

After having recontextualized the problem from 'temporary haze' to 'state of being' it's been easier to recognize what I need to do.

If I open commissions again, I need to figure out a way to keep ADHD brain from forming walls around the task. One thing I've decided for certain is that I've gotta switch to a multi-payment method. Ergo, the commissioner would pay a little up front, and the rest when I finish. Other than that though, I've been drawing a blank.

Until I get that settled, my commission status will remain in limbo.

#anon #joey babbles #if any of y'all other ADHD havers got advice #i am all ears #i never know what triggers it #i often have fun doing commissions!! its weird

129 notes · View notes

skyloftian-nutcase · 25 days

Text

The Pirate (Dad Squad)

EVERYBODY COME GET YOUR LINEBECK SOUP!!

Abel shook the strange feeling off of himself as they stepped through the gate created by the item. If it had led them here, that likely meant its twin had opened a portal to this land as well.

Blinking a few times to reorient after the brief kaleidoscope of light, Abel took in the sight of a bright sun, the smell of sea salt, and the sound of crashing waves. They were obviously by the ocean, though he had no idea where in particular, or what sea. He only knew of the Lanayru Sea, but tales spoke of other bodies of water that rivaled it.

Rusl walked ahead first, adapting quickly, eyes alert but face placid. Abel watched the Fierce Deity walk after him, unreadable as usual.

Something clearly caught their attention as they stood at the edge of the dock, staring. Abel peeked around them, wondering what it was, when he caught sight of the scene.

A ship was sinking. But it was moving towards them. Its deck had just been submerged, and its mast was all that was remaining. A man stood atop it, glaring ahead fiercely as if willing the boat to make it to the dock in time, but his posture was proud as if this had been planned all along.

What in the world...?

The mast managed to reach the dock in the nick of time, allowing the man to step off. He blew out a sigh, looking like his knees were about to buckle, when he caught sight of the group of men. He sized them up quickly, eyes widening a little at the sight of the deity, and then waved sharply. "How's it going? I'm just passing through. Gotta go now. Important things to do."

"Wait," Rusl interrupted, stepping into his way. "Can you tell us where we are?"

The man blinked, hackles less raised, confusion evident. "Where you--this is Mercay Island. How do you not know that? What, you get clocked by those red spandex wearing freakshows too?"

Abel immediately stiffened. "The Yiga were here?!"

"The who?" the man bounced back, looking even more confused as the wind whipped through his dark brown hair.

"It's a group of demon worshippers," Rusl explained. "They've taken our sons. We're tracking them. Where did you see them?"

The man's face flushed, eyebrows coming together in outrage. "They took someone of mine as well! And he's my best crewmate! Well, he's my only crewmate, but that isn't the point! I came here in search of a new ship to track them down since they--they sunk--"

Here the man sniffled, glancing away in seeming anguish at the lost of his boat.

"I'm sorry about your ship," Rusl said appeasingly. "But perhaps we can help each other."

The man hummed, crossing his arms and squinting at them as if he were debating the matter.

Abel started to grow impatient. "Do you want to find your crewmate or not?"

"Don't get short with me!" the man snapped. "I am Linebeck, captain of the seas, and I know this place better than anyone, especially you guys. I'm your only chance to find those freaks, so you're going to take orders from me now!"

The Fierce Deity picked the greasy looking man by the back of his coat, bringing him to eye level. The man, in turn, squealed, flailing his arms and legs in a desperate maneuver to get out of the hold, yelling, "LET ME GO, YOU BEACHED WHALE!"

Abel glanced at the deity, tempted to tell him to toss the man into the sea, but if he truly had seen the Yiga, then they unfortunately needed his help. Rusl just sighed, seeming to grow a little tired of being the sole negotiator of the group.

"How do you propose we find the Yiga if your ship has been damaged?" Fierce asked, silencing the man's squeals. "If I retrieve it, will you be able to repair it expediently?"

"Retrieve--it's sinking into the sea, you small brained land mass!"

Abel did have to almost laugh at that one. Rusl looked unimpressed by the man's impolite demeanor, but at least his insults were entertaining. Nevertheless, they needed to move.

Fierce seemed to sense Abel's impatience and Rusl's disapproval, casually tossing the sailor aside as he walked up to the mast. The man spluttered, shakily trying to get to his feet before promptly falling back on to his backside as he watched the deity singlehandedly start to pull the ship out of the water with a firm grasp at its mast. Abel heard the wood start to give, though, not tolerating the force it took to fight the water crushing the rest of the ship, and he put a hand on Fierce's shoulder. "Let it go. We'll have to find another way."

Rusl turned to Linebeck. "We'll work with you, friend, but not for you. Understood?"

Linebeck gulped, still trying to process what he just saw, and then he huffed, rising. "F-fine. Whatever. But I'm still in charge."

Abel felt his eyebrows pinch together. "That's not--"

"Let's go!" Linebeck announced, twirling around and marching towards the island. "I know just the ship we can acquire."

The three trudged behind him somewhat reluctantly. Abel bristled at being given orders from someone like this, but he kept his mouth shut for now. Instead, it was the sea captain who spoke first.

"So... what are all your names?" he asked as he continued to stride ahead.

The Ordonian answered first. "I'm Rusl. This is Abel, and Fierce."

"Fierce?" Linebeck repeated, glancing back at him. "Weird name."

"It is my title," Fierce clarified.

"Title? Who calls you Fierce? Fierce what, Fierce Breaker of Personal Boundaries?"

This man talked entirely too much.

"What's the plan?" Abel asked before the conversation could continue.

"That ship," Linebeck said, pointing towards a relatively large ship sitting in the harbor. "We can use that to track those scum."

"If you already had another ship, why were you perturbed at the loss of your other one?" Fierce questioned.

"It's not his," Abel surmised quickly.

Rusl smiled, rolling his shoulders. "All right, then. Who owns it?"

Abel glanced over at the Ordonian, a little baffled. He still hadn't entirely wrapped his head around what kind of work this man did - he was the most polite and kind of the group, easy with people, yet he condoned stealing in a heartbeat.

Not that Abel wouldn't steal if he had to, but... he had to. Rusl was... he didn't know. This just certainly was not the first time the man had done it, that was for sure.

And clearly, this sailor was more akin to a pirate.

Sighing heavily, Abel listened as Linebeck prattled on about some women "who won't be a problem," and the three men started moving steadily towards the boat.

Surprisingly, it only seemed to have two women aboard - Linebeck claimed that the rest of the crew was at the market. That at least made things simpler.

The four moved quickly. Rusl crouched low, leading the way and pulling out a dagger he hid in his belt. Despite being quite the swordsman, Abel had observed that Rusl often resorted to a dagger in close combat, and the more he saw it, the more he questioned the blacksmith's occupation. Fierce, on the other hand, left his hands open, likely not wanting to use his powerful blade on a couple women guarding a ship. Linebeck was also unarmed, curiously.

Sighing, Abel unsheathed his sword. He caught up to Rusl, and the two rushed up the gangway, picking a target and quickly overpowering them. Rusl never unsheathed his dagger, only using its small hilt to smack the woman across the temple, knocing her unconscious and covering her mouth as she fell. Her companion caught sight of him before Abel could get to her, yelling, but Abel easily tossed her overboard while Rusl pushed the other down the ramp.

Fierce walked aboard next, glancing around, while Linebeck sauntered aboard. The pirate's face was tight, as if he hadn't quite expected the ferocity the men had displayed, but he tried to cover it with a quick little, "Well done. Now we can depart."

"Not yet," Fierce said quietly, his voice in that low tone he used when stalking prey. Abel immediately went alert, whirling to find what he was looking at, when--

"Intruders!!"

Turning sharply, Abel saw a woman pointing from a door leading below deck. Within an instant, at least ten other women appeared, all armed and snarling.

"You said they were in the market!" Abel yelled as he readied for a fight.

Linebeck didn't reply, seemingly vanishing into thin air, and Abel only caught sight of his blue tailcoats slipping under a barrel.

"Did--did he just--"

"Not now!" Rusl snapped as their enemies charged on them.

Abel focused quickly, dodging a strike from a nearby fighter before parrying her blade and kicking her away to create some distance. Thankfully, he still had at least one functional shield left, and he quickly used it to block a jab from another enemy. Before he could retaliate, the two women were swept away by a... screaming woman?

Abel glanced to his right to see Fierce holding one of the fighters by her wrist and using her as a weapon to ram into the others. At his questioning glance, the deity explained, "The little hero usually does not approve of killing mortals. If these women prove problematic, I'll eliminate them, but for now--"

"Behind you!" Abel interrupted, pointing as another fighter tried to leap off the rail of the deck and stab Fierce in the head. The deity swatted her like a fly, and she rammed into the opposite end of the ship.

"Jolene!" some of the others shouted. Abel immediately perked up at the reaction - clearly this woman was important, maybe even the leader.

"Toss her off!" Abel ordered the deity, moving to intercept a few other enemies. He glanced to his left to check on Rusl and found the Ordonian starting to accumulate a pile of enemies who were on the ground writhing or motionless.

The former knight felt a swell of pride for his friend before looking back to see Fierce easily throwing the leader off the ship. As predicted, the others followed to check on her, leaving the men in peace temporarily. Abel put his sword and shield away to pull out his bow and arrows while Rusl pulled the gangway up to prevent them from returning. Moving to the edge of the ship, Abel nocked the arrow, aiming for a second before letting it fly. It sank into the woman's shoulder, making her scream in pain.

He nocked another arrow.

"Abel," Rusl interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder. "The fight is over."

Abel continued to stare at his target. Killing her would put the rest of her crew into chaos. It would prevent them from following them.

Rusl's hand tightened a little, reassuring but firm. "Abel."

Sighing, Abel slowly lowered the bow and arrow. His focus was interrupted as he heard splashing, glancing over to see Fierce throwing the bodies overboard.

There was a scrape of wood on wood, catching the men's attention, and they all drew their weapons to see--

Linebeck, peeking out from under the barrel. "Oh, are they all gone?"

I'm going to kill him. Abel marched forward, eyes alight with rage, when he was held back by Fierce, who pinched the back of his tunic to prevent him from moving ahead. He turned to snap at the deity, but his words were quickly overrun by the pirate, who dusted himself off and continued, "Well done, then! We're ready to set sail! I'll man the helm."

As he moved forward on the deck, he scurried all of a sudden, filled with seemingly feral energy, and stood on his tiptoes at the railing, shouting, "THAT'S FOR ALMOST BLOWING UP MY SHIP TWO WEEKS AGO, JOLENE!"

Before anyone could comment, he rushed to set sail as if his life depended on it, guiding the ship out to sea.

Abel blew out a frustrated breath, and he felt Fierce release him. He kicked the barrel under which the pirate had been hiding, taking little satisfaction from it but having to get his anger out somehow.

Rusl took a moment to calm himself as well, though far less noticeably, before he walked over to the wheel. "So where are we going?"

"Bannan Island," Linebeck answered, eyes on the horizon. "That was the direction they went, towards the north sea. They also claimed to be going to a Banana Island, so I think they heard the place's name wrong."

Banana Island. Goddess. Sometimes Abel was almost embarrassed that these were his enemies. Though it simply proved that sheer numbers could cause enough of a threat, despite how idiotic they were.

There was silence for a while as Marcay Island grew steadily smaller. The adrenaline of the fight wore off, and Abel slowly slid to the ground, feeling his stomach grow steadily more upset at the tossing of the waves.

"Who are these people, anyway?" Linebeck eventually asked, glancing at Rusl. "What do they want?"

"They essentially want to see the world burn," Rusl answered, crossing his arms. "Somehow that involves taking our sons hostage."

Linebeck pursed his lips, debating some issue, and sighed. "Well, that's rotten luck. Good thing you have me."

"Oh yes," Abel huffed. "Where would we be without you?"

Linebeck didn't seem to catch his quip, or if he did, his rebuttal was interrupted by Fierce asking, "Why did they take your crewmate?"

Linebeck's face soured, and he glared ahead of him at nothing in particular. "Whatever the reason, Link can probably get himself of out of it. But... I need a crew. So I'm finding the kid."

Link?!

No. Surely not. There was no way this disgrace of a man had a Hero in his crew, and--

Oh goddess he did, didn't he? That would be why the Yiga targeted him.

"Our boys are named Link too," Rusl said, eyes widening a little as he came to the same conclusion. "Heroes of Hyrule, spread across time. I think they must be targeting them because they know they'd stop them otherwise."

"Heroes? Hyrule?" Linebeck repeated, staring at him. "My kid isn't a--I mean, he's--look, he's my crew, and... he's a good kid, but..."

The pirate bit his lip, staring at the wheel a moment, still and silent. Worry etched every feature before he shook his head.

"The Yiga will perish," Fierce assured him. "We'll find your child."

Linebeck flushed. "H-he's not my child!!"

"Right," Rusl chuckled, patting the man on the back.

Abel sighed, ignoring the pirate temporarily and looking at at sea. The horizon bounced up and down along with the ship, giving him a headache, and he closed his eyes. He wondered if they'd actually have any luck this time - all they'd found were scraps of information and cold leads. This attack seemed fairly fresh, so hopefully they could make it in time.

Ugh. Closing his eyes made the seasickness worse.

Thunder rumbled, catching Abel's attention, and he hastily opened his eyes to see dark clouds ahead. "Uh..."

"Are we going to sail through the storm?" Fierce questioned, staring at the abysmal weather.

"No sailor goes through a storm on purpose," Linebeck immediately said. "That's just suicide. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent sailor. We'll skirt around it - I don't want to lose too much time."

At least Abel could agree with the man on that. But still... even he, someone who did not navigate the ocean, knew not to get near a storm out in the open sea. "Are we sure about this? We should probably try to avoid it altogether."

"And give those sea vipers time to get away?" Linebeck growled, glaring at the clouds. "Ha! I, Linebeck, master of the seas, can handle this just fine! I'm getting my crew back, blast it!"

Well... he couldn't fault him for his determination, at least. But still... Abel sighed, hugging the wooden support rung under the railing, lightly bouncing his forehead against it. "We're going to die."

Abel's relatively mild quip felt more and more like a promise the closer they got. The winds picked up, the sea turning a sickly green, and Abel nearly threw up with how much they were being tossed around. Rusl nearly flew across the ship as one wave almost overturned them, and Fierce had to grab him by his shirt to save him. The three men clung to the rail desperately, occasionally getting beaten by walls of water spilling overtop them.

Abel looked to the helm worriedly, feeling completely out of control and petrified, only to see Linebeck standing firmly, holding the wheel with a steel grip. He glared defiantly at the sea, almost daring it to try its worst, confident and firm in his stance.

At the sight, the former knight had to admit he felt almost a little reassured.

Another wave crashed into them, and Abel watched Linebeck release the wheel a moment, letting it turn sharply, guiding the ship to ride with the wave. Then he grasped it, guiding the mast with gritted teeth as he fought against the whipping winds. Fierce pulled Abel close, shielding both him and Rusl with an iron grip to the railing so the waves wouldn't knock them off.

Honestly, with the way they were getting tossed, Abel would be surprised if they didn't capsize. He clung desperately to both the rail and the Fierce Deity, feeling the mythical being's strong arm pressing him and Rusl closer together. Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, some kind of finality or certainty in each other's eyes as they nearly flew over another wave, facing it head on.

They still had to find their boys. Abel had to get back to Tilieth. He'd survived a damn apocalypse, he wasn't letting this be what killed him.

Glancing up at the pirate again, Abel saw the same fierce determination on his face. It was a promise, and despite how Abel's entire world was trying to kill him, he took comfort in it.

Abel closed his eyes, his forehead touching Fierce's sleeve, his hand brushing against Rusl's as they both held on to the deity for dear life, shivering and trusting and letting go.

Hylia... I leave this up to you. Don't let me down.

He lost track of time. All he heard was the crashing of waves, like claps of thunder, roaring in his ears, making his heart pound. But slowly, surely, the boat jostled them less, the wind didn't howl as it had, and the ship rocked and bounced up and down like a hammock instead of feeling like an earthquake.

Abel opened his eyes, dripping wet, tasting salt and bile, and saw sunlight.

Linebeck smiled down at them, hands on his hips, looking triumphant. "Told you I was the best."

Rusl barked out a laugh, slowly rising while Abel continued to shiver in Fierce's hold. "Well, I'm certainly impressed."

"Are you alright?" Fierce whispered softly, his arm shifting to rest his hand on Abel's back.

Hesitantly, Abel rose, testing his legs, though his knees certainly felt like they could give out at any moment.

It was official. He despised sailing.

But he could recognize and admire skill when he saw it. "Well done, Linebeck."

The pirate beamed, postiively preening at the praise, and Abel found he couldn't hold himself together any longer, leaning over the rail and vomiting.

Linebeck cackled quietly, heading back to his original spot. "Well, it isn't for everyone, I guess. But I promise the rest of the way is less rough."

Rusl helped Abel sink back to the floor while Fierce grabbed some water at the Ordonian's request.

"You good?" Rusl asked. He was shivering too, just as soaked to the bone as Abel, but he seemed far better put together.

"Nothing fazes you, does it?" Abel asked hoarsely, somewhat annoyed and jealous.

Rusl smirked. "We all have our strengths. You're certainly a better fighter than me."

If you say so. Abel pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a little less nauseous, and accepted the water Fierce offered him.

The sun slowly dried everyone off as they continued to make their way to their destination. Eventually, Rusl, being the talkative man that he was, starting gently interrogating their captain while Abel leaned against Fierce with his eyes closed. The deity didn't mind, letting himself be a pillow, but Abel could hear fabric shift as he turned to listen in to the other two.

"How did Link become part of your crew?"

"Well, I was hunting treasure," Linebeck explained. "Link wanted to find the ship I was looking for. His friend, uh, needed some help. So we worked together. I figured the kid worked so well it only made sense that he stick around. He..."

Here the pirate paused, and Abel looked over at him. His eyes were cast downward, and though shadows pulled at the dark circles under his eyes, he had a gentle smile on his face.

"He's a good kid."

Fierce sighed quietly, barely audible over the breeze. "I must figure out why these Yiga are after our children."

Linebeck grew flustered. "I said he wasn't my kid!! Look, he's just a useful member of the crew, okay? Honestly, I'm not that soft!"

Fierce blinked, the slightest crinkle to his nose, a dead giveaway that he was bemused. "You speak of love and affection as if they are weaknesses."

"Wha--I--this is silly, I am a pirate, and--"

"And?" Rusl prompted, eyebrows raised, a mischievous, gentle smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. Fierce may not have understood the man's blustering, but Rusl clearly was just trying to mess with him now, seeing right through his bravado.

Personally, Abel was just a little exasperated by it. Men who pretended they were "tough" and nothing affected them all the time simply to show off annoyed him. He used to maintain a calm façade not because he was trying to prove a point, but because the last thing people needed was to see someone in charge panicking. This was different. This wasn't a way to keep others feeling safe and secure, this wasn't a means of protecting others, this was a pitiful attempt for Linebeck to protect himself.

Perhaps it wouldn't annoy him so much if he didn't suspect the man behaved this way in front of his kid too. He could act a fool to others, but if he denied his affection for his boy right in front of him, Abel did not approve of that.

But he didn't have to say anything. Fierce's innocent confusion would tear down his argument well enough.

Linebeck huffed, looking like he was scrambling for an argument, but Abel had to interrupt it when he caught sight of something. "Is that land?"

Everyone turned to look, seeing a small splotch of yellow and black andd green, and Linebeck laughed triumphantly. "There it is! Land ho! I told you I would get us there in record time! Now hold on, you sorry land slugs, we're coming in fast!"

He was true to his word as it seemed to take little time to reach their destination. For once, it was blessedly easy to find their target - a large ship with the Yiga symbol on its mast, painted sloppily as if it had just been done, was at the port. Linebeck worked to slow their approach, when Abel instead insisted, "Don't slow us down, just ram it - we'll take care of the rest!"

"There's a cannon on this ship," Rusl noted.

"We can't risk hurting the boys if they're aboard," Abel argued, shaking his head. "Just damage it enough to stop them from escaping, and we can board."

Linebeck nodded. "Just so you know... it's uh, all up to you once we get there. I'm a fantastic fighter, but I'm afraid my sword is on my own ship."

Rusl and Abel both stared at him dully. "Right."

The men prepared themselves, weapons at the ready. Fierce pulled out his double helix blade, making Linebeck's eyes double in size. "Geez, overkill much? Get ready, we'll hit them on the port side."

"The--the what side?"

"Port, on the port--ugh, on your left!!"

The three moved, and Linebeck snapped, "Your other left!! Left from facing the bow!"

Abel sighed heavily, positioning himself and bracing for impact alongside the other two. As the Yiga ship grew closer at an admittedly unnerving rate, he prepared to jump.

Their boat slammed the Yiga ship, impaling its hull slightly and causing it to rock so severely that they could hear some of the enemies screaming and falling into the sea.

Linebeck roared in satisfaction. "HAHA, TAKE THAT YOU BRAINLESS JELLYFISH!"

Abel let the momentum of the movement carry him, Rusl, and Fierce across as they leapt with the contact. The Yiga boat was still nearly on its side when they landed, causing them to slip a little, but Abel recovered quickly, decapitating the first Yiga in sight before moving on to the next. The team moved quickly, with Fierce taking out swathes of the enemy in one fell swoop while Rusl tore ahead. Abel scoured the area for signs of a leader, entering the underbelly of the ship as well.

When he reached the brig, he froze, breath stolen from his lungs. There was another gate there, its bright kaleidoscope dizzyingly swirling, and two Yiga stood before it, holding an unconscious boy.

Oh hell no! Charging ahead, Abel stabbed one Yiga quickly, kicking the other off the child before finishing him off. Rusl hastened in shortly thereafter, wiping blood of his sword.

"Anyone else?" Abel asked as he knelt down to check on the child.

Rusl shook his head, cheeks flushed, eyes aflame. He held up a booklet. "Found a journal log, though. Might be able to help us."

At this point, Abel honestly wasn't surprised, just exasperated. He supposed the Yiga's main purpose in being here was to take this boy. Theirs were still at large.

At least they'd spared this boy the same fate.

Fierce entered last. "The enemy has been eliminated."

Abel sighed, looking down. The boy in front of him was young, not even a teenager from the looks of it, though he was likely close. His hair was thick and wispy, golden as the sands and thick with mositure and sea salt. He wore a green tunic and undershirt, paired with white trousers.

"Link!"

Catching the men's attention, Linebeck rushed into the room, kneeling down beside the boy. His hands hovered over him hesitantly, face paling at the abrasions on the boy's face. At first his concern was genuine, but his eyes shifted to the dead Yiga around him and suddenly he looked woozy.

Abel fought the urge to roll his eyes. He motioned with his head to Fierce, who quietly removed the bodies. With the distraction gone, the pirate returned his attention to the child, considerably less pale but still oh so hesitant and gentle with Link.

The boy stirred, squeezing his eyes before slowly blinking them open. Abel could see the immediate sparkle of relief as the boy registered seeing Linebeck, and the former knight smiled a little.

Linebeck smiled in return, hands finally settling on the child, patting hsi cheek and helping him sit up. His grip settled on the boy's shoulders, and he took a steadying breath.

And then he started shaking him like a rag doll.

"You stupid sea monkey, what were you thinking do you have any idea how much trouble I had to go through just to get to you, they sank my ship, now we have to get a new one--!"

The other men stared, a little caught off guard, and then Rusl gently pointed out, "Easy, you're going to give the kid whiplash."

Linebeck paused, glancing at them, leaving Link nearly limp in his grip, eyes dazed and clearly dizzy. The pirate huffed, pulling the boy to his feet, and Link stumbled around a few paces before nearly collapsing against him.

Sighing, Linebeck settled an arm around the child to keep him from falling over, letting him lean against him. "Well. The job's done, at least. But... didn't you say your boys were missing too?"

Rusl smirked. "Ah, so he is your boy?"

Linebeck jumped, eyes widening. "W-wha--no, I--you're dodging the question!"

Rusl waved the booklet in response. "I'm sure this log will have valuable information for us. But you and your son should get out of here. We'll make sure the Yiga can't come back."

Linebeck was practically inflating with hot air to rebuke Rusl's claims about him and Link, but he instead stormed out. "Honestly, I rescue you ungrateful sea barnacles and you mock me. I'm leaving."

"You forgot your kid," Abel noted dully as the boy shook his head and steadied himself.

"Link, let's go, what are you waiting for!" Linebeck called from above deck.

Abel put a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder while Rusl smiled warmly at him. "Better get going, son."

The boy looked between them, adn then the Fierce Deity, and then he nodded, saying softly, "Thank you. Thank you for taking care Linebeck."

With that, the kid ran outside, and Rusl laughed. Abel had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

"Let's get through this gate and seal it," Abel suggested. "We can read the journal after we get out of here. The less likely they can come back, the better."

Fierce's reply was cut off by voices from above.

"Linebeck, look! It's Jolene's ship!"

"Of course it is, I stole it!"

"But then why is your ship over there?"

"What?! My ship was--that's my ship!"

"Oh! I think I see Jolene on it!"

"She fixed my ship? SHE STOLE MY SHIP??"

Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, and then they both snickered.

Fierce glanced hesitantly above deck, but Abel shook his head. "Leave him to his fate. Clearly this is not their first encounter, and they've managed without us. We should go."

With that, the three men strode forward, preparing for another adventure.

#Tetra and Ciela were with Aryll and Grandma because there are only so many characters I can write that I don't know much about lol #I feel like Rusl might get annoyed with Linebeck occasionally but overall can see right through his little act #Abel on the other hand... whether he can tell it's an act or not he'd drive him nuts LOL #Fierce is just like “he isn't a threat and he's helping me so ok”#I feel like if Linebeck had stuck around and become a permanent member of the squad Fierce would've eventually inadvertently called him out #Fierce: Why do you choose to hide your concern and care behind meaningless words and bolstering bravado? Does it make you feel powerful?#Linebeck: *spluttering*#anyway Linebeck is an excellent sailor thank you for coming to my tedtalk #no matter how goofy or immature or cowardly he is this man is king of the seas and even Abel can respect that #Let Linebeck Be Cool 2024 #and then let him be a goof again lol #this was SO much fun to write oh my gosh #sorry it took a while to write but here it is :)#hope y'all enjoy <3 #also hope Linebeck feels right #Dad Squad #abel #rusl #fierce dadity #linebeck #phantom hourglass #legend of zelda #writing

79 notes · View notes

ghostofthemost141 · 6 months

Text

Essence

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,264

Themes: Fluff, Comfort, Suggestive Themes and talk so !18+!

About: After Simon comes home from a rough mission, you decide to pamper him.

Notes: I feel like Ghost would be vulnerable to his partner after they have been together for a long time because mans has a lot of pent up trauma and emotions he needs to let out. Name for you here is Sage. And I am sorry if this feels rushed, I just have been busy and wanted to get this out. Enjoyy!!

“Si..”

I almost didn’t see him walking through the front door as I was in the kitchen. His shoulders were flat and his movements were slow and monotone.

“Sage..” Simon softly said as I placed my hands on his chest.

“Love, take all this off of you.” I suggest, messing with the clips of his tactical vest.

“Hm.” Simon mumbled as he let me unclip his vest and pull them off of his chest.

“I’ll take it.” Simon said.

I nodded as I handed him the vest and he went and put it in the garage. I just hope he is up for some warm homemade soup that I made. Tomato soup with some grilled cheese. It was a rainy, cold day so soup was a good call. Simon likes my cooking, I just hope he is alright with it. Simon came back in, all of his gear gone from his body.

“There’s my racoon.” I joke, referring to the black paint that was still around his face.

“Oh shite.” Simon chuckled.

“I made some homemade tomato soup and I can make grilled cheese if you want.” I told him as I followed him into the bathroom.

“That sounds lovely. I’ll take a grilled cheese, if you don’t mind.”

Simon turned the sink on to carefully wipe the face paint off so as to not stain the white sink we have. I leaned in and kissed his cheek, quickly but passionately.

“Of course I don’t mind, Si.” I reassure him.

His doe brown eyes stared into mine, but I could tell he was tired. Very tired, but he was happy to be home.

“I’ll give you a minute and go make your grilled cheese.” I announce.

“Thanks, Sage.” Simon thanked me.

I smiled at him as I turned, left the bathroom and went into the kitchen. Even though I am always happy for Simon to be back home, I always give him a minute or so to be alone so he can wind down and decompress and become Simon Riley again and not Ghost, even though that mask of his looks so damn sexy on him. Both the skull mask and the balaclava skull mask. I smeared some butter on both inside and outside the bread, put a slice of cheddar, muenster, and american cheese into the bread, put it together and put it face down onto the hot pan on the stove. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands behind me, but I didn’t fret.

“Simon, you scared me.” I half joked, “your alias name is true to its name.”

Simon chuckled, leaning his face into my neck, placing a kiss on it. Although I love Simon, he was being overly affectionate this time. I wonder if something happened while he was deployed. I felt his hands land on my hips, massaging them. He always knew what spots to get with me. I flipped his grilled cheese, a perfect golden brown color being revealed.

“Just how I like ‘em.” Simon said, feeling his hands sink lower.

I pretended to not notice what he was doing, but I was secretly enjoying it. Simon’s hands then went down to my ass, his big hands cupping each cheek.

“Simon Riley!” I jokingly disciplined him.

“Wha’, my love?”

“You’re gonna make me burn your grilled cheese.”

Simon just chuckled, kissing my neck passionately.

“I missed ya.”

“I missed you too, Simon.”

Simon moved his hands around my waist, brought me close to his chest, and he leaned his head onto my neck, just holding me. Simon's grilled cheese was done and I took it off the pan and onto a plate. Simon remained silent but it was normal once he got the ‘I missed you so much’ hug and kiss out of the way when he first got home. I like to think it's his brain trying to decompress from being out in the field and remind himself that he is home now. Simon and I sat at the dining table, eating in silence. I wanted to converse with him, but I also wanted to give him as much space as he wanted before overwhelming him. I noticed then that Simon had finished his bowl of soup and his entire sandwich.

“Did you like it?”

“I did. It was the best bloody fucking thing I had in a long time.” Simon commented, making me chuckle.

“Do you want some more? I made plenty.” I offered.

Simon went silent, eyeing the big pot of soup that sat on the warm burner on the stove. He shook his head.

“Are you sure?”

Simon nodded again, without speaking.

“Is everything alright, love?” I ask, reaching for Simon's hand and holding it.

Simon held back softly and gently as if he was afraid I would crack easily like glass.

“Yes.”

Just by his plain response, I could tell he had a rough mission, whatever it was that he did. He tells me some but I don't want to know a whole lot unless he wants me to know. Simon silently got up with his dishes and went and put them on the sink, washing them.

“Love, go sit down and relax.” I half joked, approaching him.

Simon didn't say anything. He just kept washing his dish.

“Simon.” I called him.

Finally he stopped, turned and looked at me. I was about to demand to talk to him, but his doe eyes stopped me in my tracks. They pierced mine, as if he was trying to non verbally tell me something. His shoulders were down and his body was limp. Relaxed.

“Let's go freshen up in the bath. Hm?” I suggested.

Simon did a half smile.

“Okay.”

I cleaned up the soup mess quickly and then led Simon to our master bathroom. I held his hand the whole time and I could feel his body relaxed but tense at the same time. I knew asking him about what's wrong would be useless. He will tell me when he wants to.

“Bath or shower?”

“You pick, Sage.”

I wanted to dedicate this to him and him only, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve it. I walked over to the faucets and turned them on, making sure the water was at a good temperature. Once it was at a good hot temperature, I pulled the drain plug up to clog the hole.

“Oh.” I mumbled as I turned around to see Simon undressing himself.

“Wha'?”

“Oh nothing.” I smirked as I walked up to him.

I placed my hands on his chest, feeling his rough but soft skin. Simon didn't bore a six pack but he was definitely muscular in the arms and upper chest. He was good looking to me no matter what but his chest has to come to be my favorite pillow. He had a few scars on his chest due to his years in the Task Force but I think they make him more attractive and they each tell a story that he has already told me.

“You're so pretty.” I mumbled, rubbing my hands up and down his chest.

“I'd like to think that you're prettier than me.”

“Stop it, Simon. You're beautiful.”

I planted a small kiss on his shoulder, hearing a soft rumble come from him. I turned back around to find the tub was full so I went and turned the faucets off. I stood there and waited for Simon, who was left in his boxers.

“You gettin’ in?”

“You first. I want to pamper you.”

Simon was a little surprised by my response but obliged. He then pulled his boxers off of his body, and slowly stepped into the bath, wincing in the process.

“You okay?” I got close to the tub.

“Y-Yea’. Just bloody fucking sore.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault, love.” Simon said.

“Where are you sore at?”

“Me back.”

I immediately went through the bathroom cabinets and drawers, eventually finding what I wanted. Massage oil.

“I got you, Si.” I say.

Simon eyed the massage oil and then back to me.

“Please.”

Simon grumbled as he leaned forward, giving his back full access to me. I put some oil onto my hand and rubbed it onto his upper back.

“Hmhm. Fuck.” Simon grumbled.

“Is that it?”

I immediately felt stupid asking that. No, Sage, that can't be where it hurts the most if he curses in pain.

“Yes. Right ‘here.”

I don't know how Simon tolerates me with some of the stupid shit I say but he does. And to this day he still loves me. Hearing confirmation from Simon, I started rubbing the oil more onto his back and dug my fingers into his back harshly but gently at the same time. Simon groaned in pain every time I moved my fingers and I felt bad but I know it's needed and he will feel better once I get done. My fingers were absolutely slick with the massage oil as I was pressing and moving my fingers into the middle upper part of his back, close to his spine as that's where most of his pain resided.

“Oh fuck, love.”

Did..Did he just? What he said immediately went straight to my stomach, my face burning red and warm. I know he did it out of pain and relief from his back, but my God did he have to say it like that?

“You okay, Simon?” I ask, trying to forget what he said.

Simon sighed deeply as he leaned back, his head resting in between my legs. He opened his eyes and stared upright at me.

“I am now.”

I giggled, moving little strands of his blonde hair out of his face.

“Did that help any?”

“Yes. Thank you, Sage.” Simon thanked me.

I leaned down and planted a kiss on Simon's lips. Suddenly feeling his teeth nibbling on my lips. I pulled back to see Simon with a shit eating grin.

“Maybe later~” I say with a smirk.

“You tease..” Simon mumbled, raising his head up and facing forward.

“Now,” I started as I washed the massage oil off of my hands and reached for his shampoo, “tell me how your operation went.”

I could hear Simon sigh, but he should know me by this point. I always want to know how his missions went, even if he can't tell me much about them. He remained silent as I squirted some of his shampoo into my hand, rubbed my hands together and began lathering the soap into his hair.

“It was..a mission ‘lright.” Simon mumbled out as I got down to his scalp.

“How so?”

Come on Si.

“Well, we had to rescue some hostages.” Simon started.

I squirted some more shampoo into my hands due to Simon's thick ass hair.

“Oh shit, how did that go?”

Simon was silent once again as I finished washing his hair. I have always wanted to call him Goldie Locks but I'm afraid he would kill me for that. Still going on without saying anything, I rinsed my hands in the bath water.

“I need to rinse your hair, Si.” I told him.

Simon scooted forward as I sank down and silently cursed at myself, being forgetful of the fact that I was still wearing jeans as I sat down into the bath. Oh well, you're lucky you're worth it Simon. Simon leaned all the way back till his face was above the water still. He remained in strong eye contact as I rinsed the soap out of his hair. His eyes were a gorgeous brown, I could get lost in them.

“Done.” I announced and Simon rose up, his back facing me.

I sat on my knees and grabbed some of his body soap.

“The mission went good. All of the hostages were saved and unharmed. But..”

“Hm?” I say as I started to lather his body in soap.

I could hear him wince a little bit, but not as bad as he did earlier.

“There..there was a kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Youn’ kid. Couldn’t have been older than five. When Johnny and I were trying to calm down the hostages, the kid kept latching to me. Even though I had a skull mask on, the bloody kid wouldn’t let go ‘f me. Even when he got reunited with his mum, the kid wouldn’t let go of me.” Simon explained as I finished bathing his body.

I felt my heart race a little bit as Simon told me all of that. We never really discussed having kids. The conversation has certainly came up before though and Simon was iffy about them. But the fact that most normal people are terrified of him, rightfully so, but a young kid latched onto Simon during a scary moment in their life warmed my heart.

“He knew you were a good and kind soul during that scary moment.” I say, rinsing his body off.

“Yeah,” Simon chuckled, “cause upon my appearance you’d think I would be a good and kind soul.”

“You are to me.”

Simon sighed deeply, not out of annoyance but more as he was processing what happened.

“You’re a good man, Simon.”

I leaned my head onto his shoulder and wrapped my arms around him. Simon held my hands, just embracing into my touch. I kissed his shoulder, as a gentle reminder that I was here for him and always would be. No matter what happens with him or what becomes of the both of us, I would always be here for him. Simon Riley. Simon. Riley.

“Thank you, love.”

END

#simon ghost riley #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #callofduty #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #ghostofthemost141 #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you

162 notes · View notes

amuseoffyre · 8 months

Text

In The Soup

From my first watch, I couldn't help notice the number of reference to soup and broth all the way through the first three episodes and I've been - to be thematic about it - simmering said thoughts overnight and now have put them in order.

'Susan's' soup kiosk

"this broth…may be the best thing I've ever had"

noodle soup on arrival on the ship

the underworld boil-up

"we could make soup"

There is something very significant about the fact that Zheng's chosen cover in the Republic of Pirates is as the owner of a modest little soup kiosk. Jackie even refers to her as the "soup bitch".

It's a sign of how good Zheng is as hiding in plain sight because soup is a universal staple in almost every country in the world. No one questions the presence of a soup stand, because who wouldn't want a nice bowl of soup?

There's something about soup that is seen as a universal basic and comforting dish. There are dozens of proverbs about soup being like home or something to bring someone when they're ill. It's a quiet symbol of safety and comfort and home and Zheng absolutely uses this.

And she doesn't just keep it for the land ruse. More warm and delicious soup is served up on the ship: Stede and his lot get it as a meal and then when they bring the remains of Ed's crew over from the Revenge, they're wrapped in blankets and plied with soup too.

The thing is that we've seen how Zheng operates when she subdues Bartholemew. She doesn't even need to use threats against him. Champers and a tasty meal and a sympathetic ear and she gets what she wants. Even Stede falls for it, right up until the moment she points out that the other alternative was "or death". This is the blade they are all now living under.

Do not trust the comfort of the soup. The soup is a trap and an illusion.

This is even more significant in Ed's scenes with Hornighost. The soup he's making there is reminiscent of Māori boil-up and given that he's a manifestation of Ed's own brain, this once again gives the illusion of comfort and home as well the adage as soup being best for a recuperating invalid.

Only coming from Hornigold, that comfort and warmth becomes a horror. "It's poisoned!" Ed says as soon as he realises who's holding the spoon. He sees something deadly and a trap. He knows this isn't what it seems.

Being fed by a man who has past history of killing people with the things he fed them and who threatened to feed Ed his own skin makes that soup a very real and tangible threat.

Their next conversation on the beach is very telling. "You've got to move on or you blow your brains out… or we could make some soup." And Ed chooses soup. He chooses a warm and good food. He chooses something that is two of his reasons to keep living: warmth and good food. The fact he gives voice to good food and warmth being two of the things he values most, the repetitive appearance of soup and mention of gravy in this purgatory is Ed's subconscious grasping for what he really wants and needs, but never quite getting it.

Only once again, the soup is a subterfuge, because what's happening can't be ignored. No matter how safe or homey or domestic it looks, Hornighost keeps on slipping in the knives and all of Ed's worst thoughts and impulses keep coming to the surface. He wants the warmth and the comfort that soup symbolises, but the soup is a lie. He can't get that. Not here. Not now.

And last of all, the classic old idiom, when things have gone wrong and you find yourself in trouble: you're in the soup. They have double-crossed one of the most powerful pirates they have ever encountered, broken her ship, stolen her crush and are on the run from the English. They are most definitely in the soup.

#ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #ofmd meta #long post

173 notes · View notes

b7ngt4n · 4 months

Text

The Last Remaining | Part 06

-> South Korea was left abandoned after a 'zombie' virus sweeps the nation. Left to save themselves, Y/N and a group of seven men, who she's found safety in, rely on each other to stay alive as they travel to the south side of the country on the hunt for a rumoured 'z-free' haven. But nothing is ever easy. Especially when they find it's not only just zombies they need to watch their backs for.

-> A female reader x BTS zombie apocalypse AU

-> Genre: Post-apocalyptic, action

-> Warnings for Part 6: swearing, violence

-> Word count: 3,208 words

-> Interactions are greatly appreciated xoxo 💖

Part 06: Sensei Jimin🧟

“Are you alright? Did those bastards hurt you? I swear to God if they touched you in any way—”

Jungkook bombarded you with questions as soon as you all sat down to rest at a random intersection, after running at least two blocks away without a break. You were busy trying to catch your breath while Jungkook looked like he barely broke a sweat. You were still in shock and overwhelmed at what you’ve just witnessed. A disturbing doctor, nearly being tricked into eating zombies, cannibalism, the list can go on.

Just seeing Jungkook and being with him healed your soul. You were thankful to be alive and you were thankful he was alive too. So much so you had pulled him into a hug without even thinking about it.

It was one way to immediately shut him up. He stood paralysed, unsure how to breathe, think, or act. When the gears in his brain started to work again, you felt his strong arms wrapped around your waist bringing you closer to his warm body. Jungkook could literally feel your racing heartbeat through your back. And you could feel his through his chest. He was all you needed to remind you life was worth the little things.

“Thank you Kook,” you mumbled into his chest. Hearing you shorten his name like that had him feeling butterflies in his stomach. Only his close friends occasionally called him ‘Kook’, but it hit different coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear you call him that ten more times. “Thank you for coming back and saving us. Saving me.”

He leaned his chin on your head, grateful you were safe in his arms, “always.”

“Is everyone okay? Nobody ate the soup, right?” Namjoon asked everyone, hands on his knees as he recharged his physical battery.

You and Jungkook pulled away from each other to join the rest. Everyone replied an exhausted ‘no’ between breaths to Namjoon’s question. You sat down next to Yoongi, checking up on him and thanking him for his rescue mission efforts. Jungkook went to go sit down next to Jin, who had some teasing tricks up his sleeve.

“Jungkook definitely had a spoonful or two. Did anyone see how fast he picked up that bowl?” Jin teased him, playfully nudging him as Jungkook hit him on the shoulder in retaliation. Hoseok and Taehyung bursted out laughing.

“Our Jungkook-ie’s a true gentleman now,” Jimin joined in on the teasing on his brother as the four of them all laughed together. Jungkook rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. His round cheeks turned a faint rosy pink colour as he met your gaze. You were smiling at him, softly laughing along with the cheeky men. Seeing your smile made him forget he was ever self-conscious.

“Jokes aside, my arm feels like it's going to fall off,” Yoongi groaned, sliding off a chunky army backpack from around his shoulder and ditching it on the ground. He unzipped it to reveal handguns, ammunition, walkie-talkies, and body gear packed inside, "take your pick lady and gentlemen."

The boys were in awe of the different type of gems the duo managed to get their hands on. While they crowded around Yoongi, Namjoon gently pulled you to the side.

"I'm sorry Y/N," he apologised causing a puzzled frown on your face, but before you could ask any questions he continued, "you were right to be suspicious about those missing zombie parts. And I feel very ashamed I shut you down like that. I feel like if I listened to you, maybe we could've avoided that entire thing," he sighed heavily, looking down while burying his head in his hands.

You shook your head in disagreement, "there was no way we could've known any of that was going to happen. So please don't blame yourself," you tried to comfort him, but it did very little. He was still disappointed in himself and remained quiet, lost in deep rumination. That's when you had a thought.

"Who's idea was code purple?" you whispered to him softly after a moment of silence.

He glanced up at you, thinking for a second before answering, "it was mine."

"What's the reasoning behind it?" you asked. Namjoon didn't understand the sudden interrogation behind code purple but he answered your question regardless.

"I made it up in case we ever got split up and had to try find each other again. We decided if that were to ever happen, we just had to trust each other and that it'd all work out somehow and we'd all meet again," he explained to you nonchalantly. It was a very intellectual idea. You admired his sense of foresight.

"I think code purple is what saved us," you told him, giving him a small smile. He stared at you blankly like he didn't get your point, "you saved us Namjoon,” you clarified, emphasising on the 'you,' making sure your message got into his head.

"If you hadn't have set up that system, how could Yoongi and Jungkook have understood the situation? How could they have found us? With breadcrumbs?" you joked sarcastically, making him chuckle, a positive sign your pep talk was getting somewhere, "you make smart moves Namjoon. I understand why they look up to you so much," you referred to 'they' as in the boys. Briefly glancing at them, the younger ones were playing with handguns like they were in an action movie only to get scolded by the older ones.

"Don't let someone who deceived you doubt yourself and your abilities," you patted his shoulder just as Jungkook called you over, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

“Is he alright?” he whispered lowly into your ear as he kept an anxious eye on his brother.

“He’s fine,” you assured him, reaching out to rub his hand gently, “just needed a little motivation that’s all.”

And as if on cue, Namjoon stepped in to calm an overly excited Taehyung and Jimin from mishandling a gun before he addressed everyone, “it’s time we get the fuck out of here.”

According to a tiny tourist paper map Yoongi found back at the police station, the next city to pass through was Osan. There was no way of making it there before nightfall. And there was no way any one of you wanted to stay another night in Suwon.

Once you all had journeyed as far as the sunlight allowed you to, Namjoon declared to spend the night at an old camping grounds close by. The boys found their confidence levels boosting with every kill they made with their new equipment. It was a bigger upgrade from their last weapons — a rusty axe and pepper spray. You, on the other hand, were still incapable of properly killing a zombie.

The only thing you felt confident using was a taser. It was simple for a simple girl like you. Just aim and tase. But that wouldn’t be very effective if you were ever swarmed. Plus the batteries could run out at any time, making it a very unreliable source.

The only other things you’ve used in the apocalypse have been a baseball bat and your pocket knife — sort of. You used your baseball bat to push away zombies to create enough distance for you to run away rather than kill them. And the only time you used your knife was to threaten Jungkook and Jimin the first time you guys met. Which according to Jungkook didn’t scare them at all. Only the boys have been killing zombies. You, so far, have been a bit useless.

You weren’t proud of it. You were actually embarrassed about it. So when the boys got busy building a fire and trying to catch fish from the nearby lake, you took it upon yourself to get some training in.

About a minute away, you found a good empty space of ground next to the lake to practice your shooting. You weren’t very familiar with guns. You assumed the one you had taken was a handgun, considering it was one of the smaller ones that fit nicely in your hand.

“You got this Y/N, you know what you’re doing” you motivated yourself, trying to convince yourself you had it under control. You held the gun in both your hands, arms fully extended as you aimed at a tree trunk in front of you.

Just as you were trying to adjust to the feel of it and sussing out your aim, you heard a low groan that did not sound so human. Appearing from behind a tree trunk was a thin and very rough looking zombie. Its clothes had been ripped and its blue-ish skin was covered in dirt, perfectly camouflaging into the brown nature. It looked like it’s been lurking in the woods for a while based off the state it was in.

It was still a good distance from you, not in much of a rush to get to you. It gave you enough time to aim at it, making it your very first target. Closing one eye for the most accurate aim, once you were satisfied you could hit him you pulled the trigger. But to your surprise, nothing came out.

You frowned, pulling it again but nothing came out again. And the zombie only came closer, closing the gap between you two.

“Shit! Why won’t it shoot!” you yelled, your frustration getting to you as you prepare to run before it’s too late.

“Turn off the manual safety,” you heard a familiar voice call from behind you, glancing back to find Jimin coming out from the bushes. Before you could yell what safety he quickly specified, “turn down the lever on the left side!”

You didn’t notice it before, the tiny lever on the side of the gun. The zombie was only an arms length away from you as you immediately pulled the trigger without properly aiming. Luckily, the bullet shot right into the zombies chest, killing it for the second time.

“Shit,” you breathed out, panting from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Jimin appeared at your side, shaking his head in disapproval as he slipped the gun out your hands.

“Do I have to start keeping an eye on you missy?” he raised a brow while tucking the gun away in his pants, but not before turning on the manual safety.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as he chuckled at your clumsiness, “I was just getting some training in, no big deal.”

Jimin gave you that ‘are-you-serious?’ look as he placed his hands on his hips, “no big deal but you nearly got yourself killed? Yeah I think we will leave the gun training for later,” he responded sassily making you giggle.

He picked up two long sturdy branches lying on the floor, handing one to you while he kept the other.

“Do you know how to sword fight?”

Of course you didn't know how to sword fight. Just another thing to add to the list of talents you don't have.

Jimin shared he learned kendo for about 8 years when he was younger. He explained to you that it was a form of Japanese martial arts with bamboo swords. It taught him all the basics of sword fighting. He enjoyed the thrill of it, fueling his innocent little dreams of wanting to become a pirate.

As he grew older, so did his love and hobby for sword-fighting. When he became old and mature enough he began to learn kenjutsu and iaido, which were more comprehensive and traditional forms of japanese sword-fighting.

"So you're like a samurai?" you joked as he adjusted your awkward-not-very-samurai-like stance, laughing at your comment.

"I guess so?" he answered, not so sure if he'd ever consider himself to be. But now that he was actually using his sword-fighting skills in the real world, especially to kill, he figured he might actually just qualify.

You spent nearly two hours learning the proper stance, how to hold your 'sword', as well as basic attack and defense techniques. Once you managed to roughly memorise those skills, Jimin decided to put your knowledge to the test by making you spar with him. That's when the sweet and kind Jimin you knew transformed into the merciless sensei you never knew was hiding inside him.

He did not go easy on you. He was very strict, quick to point out when you weren't using the proper stance, or if you weren't hitting him properly, or even if you were being too slow. Nor did he allow you many breaks. He told you it was for your own good, and although you did agree with him, part of you just wanted to collapse on the ground and do nothing for an hour.

By the time Jungkook came to interrupt your training session to inform you both dinner had been cooked, the sun had already set. There was a cool spring breeze in the air that gave you goosebumps, but that didn't bother Jimin's teaching mode. The first thing Jungkook noticed about you was how exhausted you were. But from the brief moment he saw you sparring he could tell you've learned a thing or two.

You were impressed to find a well-lit campfire and grilled fish awaiting you. The boys were huddled around the campfire, sharing bowls they stole from the grounds keeper's cabin between each other. Yoongi stood up, handing you a bowl of grilled fish and what appeared to be vegetable soup.

"Hope it's not too early to be having soup," he laughed with a mouthful of food lodged in his mouth, comfortingly patting your shoulder.

The rest of the night was followed by conversations, laughter, and stories from what life was like before the apocalypse as you all sat around the fireplace. In that brief moment it felt like there no apocalypse to begin with. You actually felt a sense of normality after the longest time of the most bizarre things ever known to man happening to you. It just felt like you were with a group of friends who spontaneously decided to go camping one day. You felt like you've known the boys forever. In a way their presence soothed you. To hear Hoseok's contagious laughter, to listen to Jimin's expressive story-telling, to eat Jin's well-cooked dinner despite the circumstances, and to feel protected by Jungkook. The world could end but as long as you're surrounded by your new friends, you felt like nothing could hurt you.

As the night deepened and the boys dozed off one by one, you on the other hand were wide awake. You had never struggled to fall asleep this much before. Even after twisting and turning your entire body. Maybe it was the uncomfortable hard ground or the chilly breeze against your skin. But you just could not fall asleep.

The only other person who was awake was Jin. He was first in line to stay up and keep watch. You offered to take over his job for him and let him have a sleep. He turned down your offer, keeping you company as you both talked for a bit. Until his eyes became redder and drier, he knew he was losing the battle between him and his self conscious begging him to sleep.

You were lucky the moon was full and shining above you, blessing you with its moonlight. The fire had to be put out before everyone slept to prevent attracting attention from zombies. You used to be terrified of the dark. Yet here you were. Sitting in the dark, outside, in silence, with just yourself. Strangely, it wasn't as scary as you previously believed. Matter of fact, it was somewhat relaxing.

Where you had set up camp was right next to the lake. You left your spot from next to Jungkook and went to sit on the bank, next to the water. The lake was gorgeous under the moonlight, taking your breath away. It reflected the off-white moon, the clusters of stars in the sky, and the silhouette of forest trees on the horizon. You could hear the calming sounds of water, crickets, and frogs croaking. It sounds gross but having a break from hearing the groan of zombies or something being killed was a nice change.

"You still up?"

Jungkook's voice startled you out of your thoughts. You turned around to find him rubbing his eyes as he yawned and stretched his arms, before making himself comfy next to you.

"Couldn't sleep," you sighed, your gaze lingering on the moonlit landscape in front of you.

"I understand that, you've been through quite a lot," he whispered softly. You felt his hand rest on top of yours, his thumb caressing your skin.

You let silence fill the atmosphere. It was somehow the loudest silence you've ever experienced.

"The last time I fell asleep," you started, glancing at him to find his big brown eyes giving you their fullest attention. Even in the dark under the restricted moonlight, you could still see his sparkling eyes, "I woke up and you weren't there."

Jungkook's relaxed expression immediately melted into concern as he pulled you into him without hesitation, "I'm sorry I left you by yourself."

"It's not your fault Kook," you wiggled out his grip to see his face and look him in the eyes, "it's just the shit world we live in. I can't trust this stupid world and the stupid things they do."

You felt ridiculous tearing up as it was just something of the past, but you felt ten times more embarrassed as you felt the tears roll down your cheeks. You couldn't look him in the eye anymore, glancing down as your face turned an angry red in shame.

Jungkook cupped your hot cheeks, wiping away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You felt a sense of deja vu, thinking back to the first time you met. Except this time, you didn't try cut his hand off.

"You're right to not trust the world," he muttered, gently pulling you closer to rest his lips on your forehead, giving you a light peck, "but you can trust me, okay? I'll always find a way back to you."

You couldn't say or do anything but just quietly cry in his arms as he comforted you. You aren't sure what came over you. Nor did you understand why you were so attached to Jungkook and why he was so attached to you. Why was he so willing to protect you? To take care of you? And always come back to you as he says? And why do you let him? Was it the lack of love in your life that made you crave his? Was it because your self-conscious felt safe enough around him and the rest of the boys that you've developed an unhealthy attachment to them?

You weren't so sure or understood anything in life anymore. The last thing you remembered before finally drifting off to sleep was Jungkook's body snuggled up close to yours as he gently caressed your hair.

Until you jolted up the next morning to Hoseok's frantic voice piercing your eardrums,

"He's gone!"

(a/n: HERE SHE ISSS after a long weeks hiatus she has returned ladies & gentlemen!! i hope u enjoyed this part. honestly this part is lowk a let down after a weeks absence i’m so sorry like there’s no drama or action 🙄🙄 but don’t worry, as u can tell by my cliffhanger 🤭, the nxt part is for sure going to be more eventful!

i love u all thank u so much for reading n loving this series i rlly enjoy writing this series and can’t wait to write out all my ideas i’ve planned for this series 💖 till nxt time, stay sexy kids xoxo😛😛😘😘)

43 notes · View notes

frownyalfred · 3 months

Note

If this too much or too personal please ignore!

But I was just wondering if you had any advice for grieving? (I lost a close family member very recently)

I'm so sorry for your loss, anon. I don't know your exact situation, but I hope your loved one's memory is a blessing to you and your family. I'll leave my thoughts below the break, since I'll discuss death and dying a little.

I am, as many people on here likely know, still grieving the loss of my father. It was sudden and unexpected. It was bloody and somewhat traumatic for our family. Thinking about it still leaves me dazed and unfocused.

Grieving is such a strange process. I've been talking about it with my therapist weekly, and her main takeaway has been that there is no right way to do it -- and that it is far from linear. There are positive moments and regressions. There are funny memories and difficult truths to grapple with. There is anger, confusion, sadness. Despair. So many unanswered questions and moments that hover on the edge of veneration simply because they are the only ones you have left.

How did I grieve? I cried a lot, at first. I took off work and sat shiva with my family. I answered a thousand well-meaning messages and played one singular song on repeat on my phone. I barely slept. I dreamed and dreamed and dreamed. I woke up crying without remembering exactly what I had been dreaming about.

Then, as if in reprieve, my brain let up. I slept somewhat normally again. My body was no longer on the edge of tears at any given moment, nor was I entirely numb. Slowly, I began to think of normal things again; new television shows, updating a chapter, irritation at the banal things like traffic and work.

And anon, I thought to myself, this must be it. I'm no longer "grieving," or at least not in the traditional sense of the word. I was eating, sleeping, going to the gym and work, updating my works and hitting the club again on the weekends.

But I wasn't done. And I'm not sure I ever will be. I wanted to be done, in so many ways. I was mad at my father for dying, for making me grieve, for keeping me in this state where I couldn't be confident in anything I was feeling, any progress I was making. Where I could remain silent and resolute at his burial, but sob like a baby in my apartment when the concert t-shirt he gave me was stained by some soup.

But that's a lot to put on the dead. And sometimes I have to keep reminding myself that -- that he is dead, that there is a gap in my life I keep trying to skip over, like avoiding tonguing at the aching tooth in the back of my mouth. And when I forget, the world is more than glad to remind me, whether through well-meaning neighbors, colleagues, etc etc.

I suppose that's a long way of saying, I think I'm still grieving anon. I'm not sure I'm doing the best at it, active or involuntary as this process seems to be. I have an amazing support network, but so much of this work seems to be solitary, even when someone is sitting right next to you, crying with you.

The Jewish saying "May their memory be a blessing" has been a good focal point for me, I think. It dovetails nicely with the Mandalorian saying "Not gone, merely marching far away." I've thought about both a lot in the last few months, because I'm a huge nerd and also because I don't think the cultures are too dissimilar.

Let your loved one's memory be a blessing in your life, anon. Remember the happy moments, and speak them out loud if you're able. Don't let their name remain sacred. Don't sanctify them, for we are all humans and humans are complicated, but don't leave their life behind you.

Those memories of them, those funny moments and sad days, fun trips and strange conflicts, those are all yours now. No one else has them. And when you and your family are gone, those memories are gone too.

Other small things that have made this whole process easier: Starbucks and DoorDash giftcards (seriously, some days are too hard), letting myself take time off hobbies (gym/writing) without penalizing myself, naming my grief and allowing myself to sit in it (I'm sad today about x, and I want to lie down for a few hours. I'm lying down because I'm feeling sad about x, and I'm allowed to feel that way). Going to the gym and running until the natural endorphins help. Talking with my families about good and complicated moments with my dad. Writing, when I'm able. Reminding myself it's okay to not be very functional, that it's okay to not be perfect and you would never expect someone who is grieving to be so. Talking to a therapist and getting treatment for what I experienced. Accepting the kind words of others, even if they hurt or are unintentionally difficult.

I'm sorry you're going through this anon. I know how you feel, or at least some of what you feel. I hope you have support and loved ones around you who can help shoulder some of this process.

<3 Jay

#tw grief #tw death #tw dying #tw grieving #personal #about me #forgive me for being terribly emotional and personal for a moment #asks #anon

36 notes · View notes

frango-maconheiro · 11 days

Text

i'm rather indecise on how to write about this, also i'm with another migraine rn, it's very annoying. I hope you enjoy my thought process.

Sooo, basically, when i was making this art, i was trying to convey how annoyed i was at the fact i had a migraine.

The thing is,, in the middle process of the background, it quite reminded me of those silly horror backgrounds in horror stuff and weirdcore? idk, maybe nightmarecore or something, and it kind of made me stop and stare for a second, like, huh, it kind of reminded me of zombie matt.

so i was like, daamn, what if Matt had that same thing in the beach episode, but instead of vampire, it's with zombie, yk,,, like, even after what happened, he still had remains of the zombie self, especially with how he became some kind of lich. (This is the easiest example i could find to resume it)

Wouldn't it be cool if he still had some sort of influence on the undead if he tried hard enough??

I think he'd probably feel iffy with his left arm despite it being perfectly in place again and with no traces of the past, like, the skin there hadn't decayed the same way, so despite being just fine, he almost feels the need to scratch it off for the first post months.

And idk, i think the effects of all of that apocalypse would maybe develop cannibalistic thoughts for some time, like, he ate brains before as a zombie, but now he's back as a human, and it's kind of fucked up so tries to avoid thinking of it, the kind of shit that had him sweating when too close to one of his friends.

scenes ended before Edd and Tom's infection, so Matt is the only one acting all weird because he was the only zombie technically, the only one who probably thought about it now and then of a well cooked arm, a soup of brains.. or some grilled intestines.... yummy, he thought before snapping out of it and getting a sandwich for himself.

i still wanna continue babbling, but like, this post is too long already, the longest in this blog fr. Hope whoever had patience to read this nonsense to have liked it! shksgskjpkk

#eddsworld #matt ew #eddsworld matt #ew matt #zombie matt #rambling #rambling about ew matt

24 notes · View notes

redrobin-detective · 2 years

Text

I’ve been kind of brain dead for ideas lately but an old one that I was batting around the other day was, following Jack Drake’s death everyone was scrambling to figure out what to do with Tim. Bruce wanted to adopt him, Dana was going to take him when she was well enough, Dick probably threw his hat into the ring to give the kid options.

Now Tim has this grand scheme to circumvent all this by hiring an actor to portray a made-up uncle but he looks out at the city one night and is Tired. This city stole his peace, bits of his flesh, his friends and now his dad. Suddenly he doesn’t want to live there anymore. He makes a phone call and a few days later, he’s on a bus to Smallville to be fostered by Martha Kent.

Kon was a little surprised at the call but Martha didn’t hesitate to sign those papers. She’d seen the fallout of Tim when his mother died, if no one else would take care of Tim then she would. He arrives with a backpack full of clothes and a U-Haul of computer equipment which he sets up in the back guest room barely leaving room for a bed.

He goes to Smallville High with Conner, eats an early, homemade dinner by Ma who kisses his forehead before he Zetas back to Gotham for patrol. He’s still Robin, still fights and bleeds for Gotham. But he can’t live there, not right now. Bruce is doing his pouty hurt dad routine, Dick thinks he’s trying to make a move on Kon but really Tim is tired of the brutality of the city and wants some peace for once in his life. He Zetas back early in the morning, quietly knocks on Ma’s door so she knows he’s back and heads to bed.

His allergies give him hell in the country but he still insists on helping Kon with chores. Conner laughs at how badly he fumbles through livestock feeding and crop tending and starts working on ways to make it more efficient. He sleeps through class and spars out in the open fields and, when he’s feeling homesick, Kon will fly him real high and drop him and he can pretend like he’s just dived off a skyscraper. Martha reminds him to eat, to sleep, to wash behind his ears and stop looking at gruesome crime scene photos at the dinner table. Tim’s never had a happy, normal family situation. It unnerves him but it soothes him too as he works, really works, on some of his more self-destructive habits. For Ma’s sake. Martha knows this is only temporary, that Tim can’t, won’t, stay away from Gotham forever. But she drapes a blanket over his shoulder where he’s fallen asleep 5 minutes into a movie on the couch and brushes his hair out of his sleep deprived eyes. She loves Bruce like a second son but Tim is her baby now too and she’ll tear B to shreds if he doesn’t properly care for Tim when he returns.

Kon and Tim, who’d been kind of dancing around their feelings for years, are now in an equally strange dynamic of ‘are we brothers now? are you just a bud crashing indefinitely at my house? we come and go from Titans Tower together what does everyone THINK is happening???’ and settle for just doing nothing. They do stay up late on nights Tim isn’t in Gotham talking about bad tv shows and how lame school is and rocket ships and the latest supervillain scandal. As weird as the situation is, Tim looks happier and healthier than he has in ages. Plus it’s kinda rad to have a sleepover with your best friend every night. As far as he is concerned, Tim never has to step foot in Gotham again.

Clark comes back to the farm from a long space mission to find Batman’s latest sidekick typing up a storm typing on a computer with one hand and stirring soup with the other. “Sup,” Tim mumbles as he remains focused on both his tasks. “Sorry, guest room is mine now. I’d offer it up but it’s a pretty tight fit in there with all my gear.” And that’s how he found out his Mom may or may not have legally kidnapped Batman’s sorta maybe I guess not kid from under his nose and he’s Clark’s unofficial little brother. All he knows is Bruce is going to be a nightmare at the next League meeting.

#first thought of this when writing secret robin #when exploring options of where Tim could go #and the idea of him fleeing the city and going to smallville with his best friend #its a bit sweet #Tim loves his city but hes been through a lot and maybe a kid wants some stability #wants a parent who Knows but accepts him weird quirks and all #so long as they don't affect his health #she feeds him cookies and pets his hair and listens to him geek out on music and cold cases #he doesn't think he'll be able to stay away from gotham for long #but right now this is nice #Martha Kent will throw down with Batman to keep Tim safe #Clark is very confused #he calls Tim scamp one time and Tim's like Mr Kent dont do that #anyway yeah weird au thoughts Im thinking again like 4 months later

460 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 9 months

Note

I wanna put Patches in a really short skirt that he has to wear while he's working, and then all of a sudden, no matter where he is, I'll unexpectedly drop to my knees, hike the skirt up, suck him off and squeeze a couple of orgasms out of him

And then I'll pull his panties back on (probably a lacy thong), rub his cock until he comes into it, and then make him shakily walk around the rest of the day whilst wearing those cum stained panties <3

[You're so galaxy brained. *twirls hair*]

It's not even the first time he's been in a skirt, but by the Gods if being in a skirt for his firefly specifically doesn't make Patches dysfunctional.

The whole day, he keeps having to push the mini-skirt down. Not just because it's terribly small, but also because his sporadic boners keep tenting it at the front, showcasing the panties barely shielding his modesty. The few coworkers that catch him in this state all have their tasteless quips to spit, but they know by now that most of it just makes him more flustered.

It's hard to even pretend to be working properly when all Patches can think about is your hands groping and tugging him, knowing that at any moment you could want to play with him- Waiting in agony, wet spots on that debased skirt where his cock is full-mast, begging for even a lick of attention.

It's no wonder he lasts even less time when you do deign the dullahan worthy of your touch, words melting into an incoherent soup as his remaining brain cells ping-pong between begging you to stop and begging you to suck the soul out of his dick. He can't even gather the focus to tell you how turned on he is, how feverish you make him, when you force him to grind his panties into your palm, tears going down that carved face as you laugh at him in his cum-dripping undies.

Obviously, he should clean the mess he made of your fingers too...

Not many of his coworkers bat an eye at his and your antics after the initial shock of seeing him come in dressed like that. But the incubus flares his nostrils every now and then, giving him an approving look, able to scent the state he's in.

Patches only fears you'll make him lose what's left of his mind one day.

#Patches oc

78 notes · View notes

the-wiggler · 27 days

Text

If I could stay here, under your idle caress

Ellis tries to cook and plan fails successfully?

word count: 2.2k

“My love?” A tentative voice calls into the dark room, curtains drawn. What little light filters through, Ellis can see the mountains of clothes on the floor, the layer of dust and the empty cups covering the room. On the bed in the corner, a mound under the heavy blanket shifts minutely, and their heart aches. “Oh, my Gem,” They coo, sitting on the side of the bed, slowly peeling back the blanket to reveal a sallow face, tired and weighed down, smooshed against the pillow. Ellis leans over and presses a soft kiss to their cheek, a hollow stare darting to them in vague recognition, “How are you, my dear?”

They groan, shifting to bury their head in Ellis’s middle, quietly inhaling their scent. Their hand moves instinctively to stroke Gem’s hair, grounding repetitive motions as they sit in silence for a few minutes before Ellis breaks it, “Are you hungry? Think you can stomach some food?”

They go to shake their head, instinctively wanting to remain in their bed despite their aching back and stiff legs. Then they register the slow acidic burn spread from their core and absently wonders when they last had a proper meal. “Yeah-could gof’r something.” Stringing together words with what little threads of energy they could muster, their voice hoarse from disuse.

“Ok,” Ellis smiles, one last comforting stroke of their hair before they pull away, “I’ll get you something to eat, you try your best to get out of bed, ok?” They stand and go to pull the blackout curtains open, revealing a second set of thick daytime curtains, and illuminating the room in a soft light. Reaching behind the curtains, they push open the windows, letting the soft breeze and the noises of traffic below waft in. “Take your time, Gem. I’ll be just outside.” They press a gentle kiss on Gem’s forehead before they leave, and Gem misses them already.

Outside, Ellis wracks their brain thinking what Gem could eat. They remembered the stacks of snack wrappers on the table and an idea flutters into their head, perhaps they could cook something? Sure, their cooking left much to be desired, but Gem had been giving them lessons (though they often ended up making out on the countertops instead). Their cooking “lessons” meant that Ellis could now, under supervision, make scrambled eggs, grilled cheese and pasta. And heat up soup.

But their Gem deserved a good, warm, fresh meal, and though they had only “helped” Gem out in the kitchen, Ellis was confident they could handle this. They crack open Gem’s laptop, typing in their password (Ellis’s birthday), and pull up the recipe from a bookmark folder called “Cooking for Ellis”.

‘The perfect food for when I’m feeling sick, Oyakodon is a classic comfort food of Japanese home cooking. Simple, delicious, and utterly comforting, this is the kind of one-bowl meal you can cook in less than 30 minutes!’ The chipper description of this Japanese chicken and egg rice bowl had caught Ellis’s eye. Perfect.

Firstly, the chicken. They rummage through the freezer until they grasped a small container of already-chopped chicken thigh. But it was still frozen, and Ellis didn’t have the time to sit around waiting for it to defrost.

They sighed, cracking open the frozen block of meat and hacking away at it with a spoon until they had what they figured was a big enough portion for Gem to eat. Then, they slapped that in the microwave, doused it in sake, and let it sit, feeling very proud of themself. Off to a very positive note.

Next, the onions. They carefully chopped off the ends of the onions, peeling off the crinkly skin and sliding them off to one side of the cutting board. Then they slice the onion in half, feeling the tears prick their eyes and their vision blur.

A sudden strong gust of wind sends the loose onion skin flying off the counter like leaves in the sky. Ellis curses silently, eyes burning, and rushes to chase after the onion skin now scattered across the kitchen floor. When they finally collected the bits and deposited them into the bin, the tears in their eyes had yet to subside.

Frustrated, they rub their eyes, forgetting the onion residue still on their hands. As their pain suddenly escalated, they cursed silently, blindly grasping around to find the sink and turn on the tap. Quietly panicking to avoid alerting their partner, Ellis rushes to wash their hands with soap and rinse their eyes, tears running down their face.

Once they had finally cleared the sulfuric acid from their eyes, they found their vision blurred and their nose running. They glance, a bit despondent, at the remaining onion and curse it out quietly. Through tears and sniffles, they finally cut the onion into slices Gem once termed ‘Julienne’. This time, they make sure to thoroughly wash their hands before scrubbing at their face.

With a renewed sense of enthusiasm, they gaze proudly at the now conquered pile of onions on the chopping board. Despite this minor hiccup, Ellis felt ever optimistic, grabbing a bowl and mixing the liquid seasonings.

Now, to start the cooking process. Ellis confidently opened the cupboard where Gem kept all their pots and pans. Having lived alone for so long, Gem only had two pans: a larger one for bigger meals when hosting guests, and a smaller one for personal use. Ellis frowned.

The recipe said one small pan should be enough, but…Ellis sent a distrustful look at the accursed mountain of unevenly cut onion pieces and decided to err on the side of caution. They grabbed the larger pan, dumping the onion and seasonings into it.

The seasoning…barely covered the bottom of the pan, let alone the onions.

A quick reference back to the recipe…and…yep, the seasonings should cover the onions. They inwardly grumbled at the idea of having yet another thing to wash and grabbed the smaller pan, pouring the sauce into it. Ellis watched as the liquid in the pan rose and rose until it reached the brim of the pan, forming the meniscus. Ok..too little for the big pan but too much for the smaller pan.

Great.

They pour the rest of the sauce down the drain, lamenting the wasted food. They move to dump the onions into the sauce, forgetting completely the rule of displacement. As the onions tumbled into the pan, the sauce flooded over the edge, forming a small pool around it. Ellis fights the urge to collapse into a heap on the ground and instead carefully lifts the already full pan up, spilling more sauce. They messily clean up the majority of the mess; the rest could be cleared up after they deliver this absolute guarantee of a good meal to their partner.

Having lost a decent chunk of motivation (and seasoning) that they started with, Ellis turns on the stove, waiting for the sauce to come to a simmer. placing a lid over the pan and turning their attention to the mountain of dishes in the sink.

They quietly hummed a song that reminded them of Gem, mind wandering to thoughts of the bright starry eyes of their partner as Ellis served them the perfect Oyakodon. It wasn’t that Ellis was doing this for the thank-you kisses they might receive…but they would be amiss if they said it wasn’t something of a motive.

So lost in thought was Ellis that they completely forgot about the simmering, bubbling, and now boiling pan of sauce and onions just a few feet from them. It wasn’t until the metallic rattling of the lid against the pan did Ellis snap out of their daydreams and worriedly glanced over.

The sauce had bubbled out of the pan, adding to the already large puddle. It was currently dripping over the counter down onto the drawers below, no doubt seeping into the cutlery and crockery that Gem kept there. Completely forgetting about the running tap, they grabbed a cloth and went to wipe at the angry mess on the stove, the hot liquid quickly seeping through the cloth and shooting through Ellis’s hands, making them curse loudly.

The word rang out in the emptiness of the cosy apartment Gem had and they vaguely heard the soft padding of feet approach them before a quiet voice called out. “Ellis? Is- “Yes, my dear,” They quickly interrupt, rushing to intercept their partner at their bedroom door, “Are you feeling well enough to be up? Perhaps you should take a shower, Gem, freshen up.” They clutched their throbbing hand behind their back, chuckling nervously.

Gem casts a confused look at Ellis. Their eyes dart from the sweat dripping down Ellis’s forehead to the panicked look in their bloodshot eyes and the hand they were not very inconspicuously hiding. They begin taking hesitant steps towards the kitchen despite Ellis’s weak assurances.

“No- don’t gaze upon my shame, please, I’m begging!” They joke weakly as Gem reaches the kitchen, but it was too late. Gem could only stare in silence as Ellis stood behind them, sheepish and awkward morphing into an overwhelming amount of guilt. The last thing Gem needed right now was more things to worry about, to shoulder Ellis’s burdens along with their own.

“I-I’m sorry, Gem. I know this is the last thing you need; more things to do.” They sigh, “Look, take a shower, and I promise, once you get out, the mess will be gone. I’ll call up your favourite pizza place, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Ellis tried to redirect their attention away from the mess, hoping to coax Gem away from the mess they had made.

“Ellis-I-What…what were you trying to cook?” They whisper, a layer of incredulity concealed under genuine curiosity, their eyes fixated on the angrily rattling pan.

“Well- I was trying to make an Oyakodon, you know, the one you had saved in your laptop?” Their partner nods wordlessly, “But clearly, I seemed to have overestimated my cooking abilities and I…oh. I forgot to make the rice.” They wring their hands together, watching their partner out the corner of their eye, waiting for the outburst.

After a quiet sigh that seemed to pierce Ellis, Gem moves into the kitchen, slides the pan off the hot surface of the stove and carefully turns the stove off, leaving the liquid to cool. They turn off the running tap before grabbing another, not soaking wet, cloth and carefully lifting the hot pan lid, wincing at the burnt onions and billow of smoke that angrily escapes its confines. They deposit the pan in the sink and grab a bowl, filling it with ice and cold water and gently guiding Ellis’s throbbing hand into it.

“Gem I- “Rest.” They quietly order, silencing any meek protests on the edge of Ellis’s tongue. They resign to sit at the dining table, hand submerged in the icey water. Silently, they watch Gem move through the kitchen cleaning up the mess, chewing on their lip nervously.

Gem was always more on the quiet side, opting to save their energy for acts of service that made Ellis want to smother them in kisses. They talked in quiet smiles and averted gazes, a quiet language that Ellis had slowly become a well-learned expert in. But on days where they could barely manage to leave their bed, they resorted to one-word responses, sometimes just a vague nod, even.

Ellis could tell, in Gem’s tense shoulders, that their disappointment was palpable- tired and exhausted, they still had to clean up after Ellis’s mess. Ellis had meant well, they didn’t doubt that Gem understood that, that they had only intended to provide a warm meal that Gem loved, but intentions meant little when the outcome directly contradicted it.

“I really am sorry, my Gem. I…never intended to make more work for you.” They sigh, watching their partner move through the kitchen as they were stuck in the chair. They sighed, “But I did. Regardless of my intention, I…I made a right mess of things, and I can’t express my apologies enough.” They suddenly felt silly for ever thinking they could somehow whip up a meal when they could barely scramble an egg without burning something (or someone).

A rub on Ellis’s cheek drags them out of their inner criticisms. A hand cupped their cheek gently, and they gazed up from where they were seated to stare at Gem’s eyes. In turn, Ellis turns their head to lay a gentle kiss on the palm of Gem’s hand.

“You did,” They state matter-of-factly, quiet voice barely reaching Ellis’s ears. “But it’s not all bad. You managed to get me out of bed, didn’t you?”

Ellis blinks slowly, then laughs, surprised. “I…hadn’t even noticed. I suppose it is a silver lining in all of this.” They place an unburnt hand over Gem’s waist, pulling them in and resting their head on their partner's stomach. “You really are too kind to me, my Gem.”

“Nonsense.”

#reverie audios #ellis reverie audios #silly writing stuff: reverie edition #my humble offerings #yapping about ellis #the way this had been FERMENTING in my google docs bc I'm too busy fishing in stardew

23 notes · View notes