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Beyond the Table

Chill of the breeze and the stench of death.  I must smile, nonetheless.  If not smile and vain,  Then I go back to the suffering of endless grain.

Tranquility and peace, Upon the fruit filled feast. Grateful meats of those who gave, And beverages given from the blood below, The feast is nothing but a show.

Siting around the table, They laugh while their feast reflects the riches they meek. Musn’t we be smarter than them? Musn’t we feast on the food of life too?

So why? Why must we let them win? We’ve grown lazy and toss the blame. Clawing and scratching at each other’s throats, Lacking the virtue of understanding

But what if… What if we came together, despite our difference, No, we embrace our differences.  Value the views of others who’s are so vastly differ. We’d be able to thrive! Not just die, indirectly in the hands above.

Give you’re faith to your creator and I'll give mine, For its only the ones we follow faithfully Are the ones who get to decide our fate.  For mine is my God and am a follower of Christ. Yours may be someone else,  And that is truly okay. You may not believe, but who am I to judge? For I wasn’t sure for the longest too.

And yet, They sit high and proud. Making inhumanly claims and acts. To… to be god.? God doesn’t pray on the weak to gain power. My God loves his children equally,  He teaches and shows the way. They take to gain and gain to take. Isn’t it morally wrong.?  To make their own table, And use our lives to feast the best?

Have we lost our morals along the way? Where are the ones who save themselves for their one? Why must we feel like we have to give ourselves before love? Who are the ones who still believe in true love? What makes everyone just want a quick fuck? How have we let it get this far? It’s just all one big way to erase what truly matters to us, Strip us of our dreams and hopes, Gaining power from our despair. 

So reclaim what is truly yours Are you happy?  Maybe, Maybe not. But if you don’t act to recover joy, You’re letting them win. Take charge of your life.  Not feeling up to it? That’s okay too! Just promise me one thing, Okay.? Don’t waste your life saying one day you will. Because one day, Tomorrow won’t come and the sun won’t rise. Take life with a grain of salt or else you’ll be driven mad. Don’t let life fly by because you say your hands are tied. Live. Live your life to the fullest my loves. Do that for me, yeah.?

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Is It Love.?

I think its love I dunno if I know how to love But every thought Every conversation Notification Silly memory My stomach gets warm My chest still flutters softly  And I cant help but smile Oh I hope this is love I know its love I know I’m learning how to love

He is teaching me how  He doesn’t know it though He loves me And tells me to take it slow He know’s I’m scared He waits for me He’s there

He’s slowly teaching me how to love But don’t tell him that though I am falling in love Something I’ve never felt before Is this what love feels like? To soar?

Oh I think its love! I truly do Because I wouldn’t know would happen If Im without you…

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Love of God

Whispers in the wind And the squawking chirps Your chill sways upon me As I listen to your words

Guide me in your light Put me through the trials  Of which I need to transcend in your grace Help me through the dark Usher along me to the bright

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Destiney

Do you ever wish you can start anew? There is just so much I wish I didn’t do.

So much I wish I could change. But if I did, I wouldn’t be the same.

So do I wish I can have a redo? No. Because then I’d never have you.

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List of Chapters of the Last Goodbye so far - Spencer Reid x Reader

The Last Goodbye - His Awakening - The Reunion - Forever -

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Forever

The Last Goodbye Part 4

As you stir awake in the morning, you don't remember a thing... You stretch awake, wondering if you got hot last night and took off your pants... weird... You grab some clothes and yell when Spencer walks out of the bathroom. He greets you with a bright smile and casually asks how you slept. "W...why are you here.?" You whisper in response. He's eyes seem... dark... then replaced with a smile... a smile you've never seen before.

"I needed to make sure my dearest fiancee was doing well after last night. I can't have you being ill once you carry my child, now can I?" Your face pales immediately as you look at your shaking hand. "If you never tried leaving me then I wouldn't have had to gotten this far, love. But it's okay because / forgive you. I know you didn't t mean it, you were just... just confused. You knew you were missing something but just didn't know what," His smile turns cruel as he continues in a sweet voice, "you just needed me to figure it out didn't you? And I did honey, I figured out what you're missing!" He steps closer and holds out his arms.

"You just needed purpose. I bet you felt lonely in that cold cruel apartment, huh? Well there's no need to worry anymore!! Every single time I'm home with you I'll make sure you're full and plump, ready to give our children a life in this world." He hugs you as your hands stay limp at your side. "Now let us go home now, yes? No more attempting running away or late night hotel rooms. Once we get home, I have to chain you... you know that, don't you honey.? I wish I didn't have to, but you left me no other choice. Until you have re-earned my trust, you'll have to be tied down. I wish, you never had ran away, because I'd never have to do this. You're making me do this honey... I am sorry, you know I love you, right.?"

You just stand there stiffly and delirious as he collects your things and hands you new clothing. "Here honey, wear this." He continues to collects your things, walking out of the hotel room and threw them in his car, making his way back to you. "I'll have to come back and get your car later," mumbling to himself, he sits on the bed waiting for you to dress. Autopilotly throwing on your clothing, Spencer puts his hand on your lower back and leads you to his car. "This is truly for the best," putting the gear in drive he continues, "this way you won't be poisoned by the idea of life without me. Honey, I forgive you, so theirs no need to look so... dead, okay? I'm right here." He grabs your hand and kisses the back of it while his eyes never leave the road. "And we'll be together forever, I'll make sure of that love. Me and you, together forever..."

You look in the side mirror, looking back at the hotel, back where you almost had freedom, almost got a second chance. With a defeated sigh you lay your head on the window closing your eyes. Whispering softly with a single tear and a heavy heart, you repeat his vow to you, "forever..."

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Blog update!!

Im actually going to start posting my poetry here because I have a bit of it and I dunno.. maybe the world should have a change to hear my voice, you know?

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The Reunion

Part 3 of The Last Goodbye He knew you weren't there, your car wasn't in the parking lot. So, he asked the lobby, so sickly sweet, for the key, and he waited... He waited and planned everything that was to come. He dreamt that you guys would conceive your first child in this very hotel room. Not ideal, but it'll work. Just the thought of impregnanting you riles him up. Oh, you'd be the perfect mother. He'd never let you leave the house again. He'd keep you round and chained to the house forever, never a moment when you are not bearing one of his glorious children. You know what, he still has the ring on him. He made sure to grab it before he left, maybe he'll slip in on your finger when he cums in you.. that would be... heaven... He heard the knob shift, so he hid in the bathroom, waiting for the perfect time. He watches as you sluggishly enter the room, long day at work he assumes, and take off your bra pants to crawl into bed. Early night... it's perfect. You'll sleep like a baby in just a moment.. he just has to wait. So he does, he waits behind the bathroom door, watching you from the crack, as you drift into a deep sleep. That's when he slips out of the bathroom and starts shedding his clothes. Once bare, he stands next to you and slowly removes the blanket, making very calculated and precise actions, not wanting to wake you. He moves onto the bed and between your thighs, slowly slips in and feels like he's in heaven. Slowly and gently, he rocks into you. But maybe he shouldn't be gentle and kind. You tried leaving him. You don't deserve him to try being nice just because he loves you. You're his! He gets to choose what he does, and frankly he chooses you to be punished for trying to leave him! He rips your legs further apart as he puts his hands around your throat and moves at a pace which has no mercy on you. That's when you wake up dazed and confused, while he's in his bliss. You start thrashing and trying to get away when you realized, but he just tightens his grip on your throat and continues. Removing only one hand from your throat, he moves it to your clit where he forced your orgasm... He comes soon after you. You lay there confused and frozen, not processing whatsoever that he moved a pillow underneath your hips and slipped something on your finger, vaguely hearing him mention something about forever, before you drift back asleep again, hoping its all just one bad nightmare... A/N: part four is in progress

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The last goodbye update!!

Okay hear me out!! I’m writing more for this and turning it into a series, right?? BUT I FEEL LIKE EVERY CHAPTER NEEDS A DIFFERENT NAME!! I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just special, but “the last goodbye part 2” doesn’t really fit- so imma change that name and keep a post with all the names of the chapters in the series.

Side note. I don’t know how to do a master list or add a link thing to link the chapters together, so if any of you guys could help, i would really appreciate it!!

But part three is being typed currently!! :D

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His Awakening

Part 2 to The Last Goodbye

Maybe happy ending. Obsessive Spencer?? Mention of pregnancy. Mention of forcing proximity? Spencer off his rocker?? uhh- let me know if I forgot anything-

Reader is born a female with reproductive part. NOT PROOFREAD!!

(Spencers POV)

The case was long and daunting, and all he wished for was to go home and sleep. He swears if he gets home and gets bombarded with questions he'll flip. All he wants is to relax. He felt as if he hasn't been able to for months.

So he drives the familiar street and pulls into the drive, unnoticed your missing car was. Walking up the stairs he had an odd feeling. One he did not like, unlocked and opened the door to step inside. Cold and lonely of despair. That was the only way to describe how it felt. He called for you, frantically searching the house. Gone.. you was gone.

At first he was angry. Throwing anything he could get his hands on, yelling, screaming in futile rage. Then something happened. A snap. His eyes were no longer covered in cotton. He could see, but he wish he didn't, for what he saw pang him with sorrow.

His fault. This was all his fault. He was so enraged about being falsely sent to prison that he took his anger on you. His whole world had left him without a goodbye... he couldn't blame you though. But! Oh but!! He could find you!! Yes, find you and show you that he is the man you know, bring you back and live happily together!! But what if you wouldn't want to come back... hmmm... no. you won't have a choice. You'll return to him, you are his just as much as he is yours. And he'll make sure to put everything back in order.

So the plan was set. He would call Garcia in the morning, tell her that you lost your phone and desperately need it back. That's how he'll find you. Once he does, he'll never let you go. Not again. Never again. Maybe a few babies will make you see that.

He shutters at the thought. You, his perfect little angel, pregnant with his kids. Oh, you'll be a wonderful mother. But for now, he must lay his head on the cold pillow in this damper room and rest, awaiting until he can claim what is rightfully his.

-----------------------------Next Morning---------------------------------

He waked up bright and early, man on a mission, to reclaim the one he loves, the one he desires. Making sure he had more than plenty of time to spare, he headed to a grocery store along his usual route to pick up some cookies and blueberry croissants. Bribes... He plans on giving them to Penelope, saying some random excuse. He walk into Garcia’s cave all chipper, saying he’s throwing a surprise party for you and he needed her help so you wouldn’t find out. Of course Penelope was more than happy to help!! She didn't ask many questions, oblivious to the darkness that lay just behind his eyes when the hotel address appeared on the screen. The day at the office was a rather quiet one, no case to he held, just to his luck, and he managed to clock out in record time, rushing to the hotel. The hotel.. The one you decided to run to. The one which kept his love under lock and key.. The one he'll save you from. His perfect little angel.. Just you wait. Your night and shining armor will save you soon. You will lay next to him tonight, he'll make sure of that.

A/N: Okay so I know that I started this like two months ago, but I swear I didn't mean to neglect my baby!! Guys I am so sorry for the wait! And I was thinking about making this into a fluffy series, and then I started writing and idk what I'm doing anymore!! but I am writing part three and I am so proud of this!! Let me know what you're thoughts are, and thank you for reading my silly little Spencer obsessed fics :)

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UPDATE!!

So I have decided to turn The Last Goodbye into a series. I am not sure how many chapters I am going to make it, but I feel as if this needs a series. It's just too special to pass up on. Anywho, I'm working on chapter 2 now!! Thank you all for reading chapter one!!

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The Last Goodbye

Spencer x reader drabble authors note: Hey guys!! This is the first time posting a fic I've written, so please let me know what you think!! all feedback it appreciated and welcomed!! Short write- Less then 500 words, but potential for a second part!! Not proofread either!! The reader isn't mentioned of gender- It's written in second person point of view. Theirs mention of yelling, a bit of toxicity and Spencer out of prison. It is angsty.

He's been more distant lately. You were growing more and more concerned about him. Ever since he got back from prison, he changed. He grew cold. Pushing you away. The constant fights, unable to even hear you. You tried, tried to your last bone in your body... but everyone has their breaking points. 4 years withering away like it was merely a facade.

Here he is. Dismissive and angry. Why is he shouting so loudly and incoherently? You asked him how his day was, and if he was alright, and then the split happened. Spencer is turning into this unrecognizable person, yelling at you for being too invasive, too pushy and nosey. You just wanted to help. And now he is screaming in your face...

Ring... Ring...

He answered the call in two rings, it takes him two calls to answer you. It was like his entire personality shifted... He was kinder, sweeter, understanding... reminds you of the Spencer you once knew... the one you lost.

He looks at you and answers the line... "Yeah I can make it in right now. I don't have anything special going on. Yeah, I know. I'll see you in 20 Emily."

He hung up the phone and spoke coldly, telling you he needed to go back to work, went into the bedroom and grabbed his to-go back, and went straight to the front door and left.

This time would be different, you knew it. You didn't weakly tell him goodbye and to be safe. No. No more of that. You've done it every time he left, but not today. Did he even notice that.? Probably not. He left, and it gives you at least one day to get everything out, at best 12 days. But you wouldn't risk taking your time. Straight to your room and grabbing all of your belongings, throwing them into your car. Questions swarm through your head. Where would you go. What will happen to the thing you can't fit in your car to bring. Would he care you left.? Would he notice your absence when he gets back.. Would he be happy. Maybe try to find you and try to change. Could he change back to the man he once was.. You hope he could go back to Spencer you fell...

Wait! No. Stop thinking about him. You're leaving him to be happier. Free. So then why does it feel like you have a 50 pound weight on your chest. It doesn't matter. You had to do this. You had to leave.. Staying would only make you loose your mind. Be driven to insanity. It's time to hurry. Not another night here. Booking a hotel for the night and going from there would be the safest option. It's already 11:27pm. You threw the rest of the belongings you could carry in your car, leaving quite a bit behind but you needed to prioritize what you took, went back and left your key on his counter and walked out the door..

Looking back one last time, leaving behind all the forgotten laughs, all the petty fights... Your new start begun now. As you started the engine of your car, you started your new chapter in life. A chapter of which you can only go up. Find joy once more. Backing out of his driveway, you knew you could never go back on what you're choosing. And so there you were, dead of night with the street lights to show you the way as you drove away from the empty shell, the once you once considered to be a warm and loving home..

A/n: Okay so I am debating on making a second part to this- or maybe like 2 different endings to the story.? A sad one and a happy one. But let me know what you guys want!! If I should leave it as is, or continue onto it. Anywho, thank you so much for reading my Drabble!! Means the world to me, but for now, goodbye my lovely cubs!! Till next time, have a wonderful day or night!! Better yet, both!!

[doorlesscub00]

Polls in, so I’ll do Spencer Reid x reader fic. If anyone has any ideas or requests do let me know!!

Once I finish Spencer’s I’ll make a Dean Winchester since he was a close second.

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[doorlesscub00]

Ahh!! This author is so awesome!! I’ve read so much of their pieces and I’ve got to say, they have talent!! Go check them out!! I am so so excited for this series and I’ve been following it since it’s been released!! Keep shining baby!!

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Prologue - Chapter 1

playlist

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker. 

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here. 

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote. 

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something.  She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away. 

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie 

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface? 

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself. 

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc. 

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes. 

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate. 

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine. 

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard. 

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy? 

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here. 

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings. 

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects. 

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold. 

So, yeah, no one really came in here. 

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant. 

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl. 

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class. 

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare. 

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets. 

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.  

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?” 

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly. 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.  

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly. 

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years. 

“Why do you care?” you snapped. 

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day. 

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever. 

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it. 

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something. 

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.