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writingbuckets · 2 days ago

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The Hot Take: Part 1

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 1.7k

a/n: here's part 1 to my influencer!reader fic based on the poll i posted a few days ago. i took a few days to write out the first few parts to this storyline, so i shall see yall in a few days <3

**********

Sitting in the studio, you shuffle through the day's notes as you wait for Taylor, your partner and co-host, to get ready. You glance around at the familiar setup: soundproof walls, the big red “ON AIR” sign, and Taylor’s mic with her distinctive bright blue pop filter across from you. The Hot Take has come a long way since you and Taylor first started recording episodes in a makeshift studio in your apartment.

Finally, Taylor takes her seat, grinning like she’s got a secret. You recognize that glint in her eye; it’s the same look she gives you right before she drops a bombshell on air. You chuckle, half expecting her to share some wild celebrity tidbit or throw in an off-the-cuff comment that’ll leave fans buzzing.

“All right, ready to kick things off?” she asks, sliding her headphones on. You nod, pressing record, and the familiar flow of the episode begins.

The conversation starts with your typical lineup of the week’s big pop culture and sports events. You trade opinions on a recent basketball draft, discuss an unexpected celebrity breakup, and riff on a few new album releases. Fans love the way you and Taylor can pivot from debating sports stats to analyzing the latest music trends—all with a laid-back vibe that feels like a natural conversation between friends.

As you move toward wrapping up, Taylor flashes you a mischievous smile, one that promises she’s about to shake things up. Before you can question her, she clears her throat, leaning close to the mic with a conspiratorial whisper.

“So, Y/N, we always promise full transparency on this show, right?”

You nod, slightly suspicious but playing along. “Right...”

She grins, eyes sparkling. “Well, I feel like it’s time I share something personal—a bit of a confession, if you will.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious. “Oh, really? Do tell.”

“It’s about my celebrity crush,” she declares, and you feel your eyebrows shoot up. Celebrity crush? That’s…random. But Taylor’s got that devilish glint, so you know she’s leading somewhere.

“Oh, please, Taylor,” you say, laughing. “Are you seriously bringing up your celebrity crush right now?”

“Of course! It’s relevant to sports, I promise.” She laughs, her voice dipping into an almost-reverent tone. “Because it’s Paige Bueckers.”

There’s a beat where you try to process that. Paige Bueckers—a name practically synonymous with college basketball greatness, a player with such raw talent and drive that her highlight reels are legend. Of course, Paige has the kind of skill and flair on the court that would make her anyone’s “celebrity crush.”

Without thinking, you roll your eyes and let out a laugh. “Oh, Paige Bueckers? Come on, Tay. Isn’t she a bit…overrated?”

The words escape before you have time to reconsider, and you catch Taylor’s jaw dropping in mock horror, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes go wide, as if you’ve just blasphemed on live radio.

“Overrated?” she exclaims, her voice full of exaggerated shock. “Y/N, you’ve officially crossed into hot-take territory. Are you serious?”

You shrug, leaning back in your chair as you play it off. “I mean, yeah, she’s good. She’s really good. But let’s be real—people act like she’s already the GOAT, and she’s, what, twenty-three? I think she’s talented, sure, but maybe the hype’s a little…excessive?”

Taylor shakes her head, laughing as she turns back to the camera, knowing your listeners will eat this up. “Listeners, you heard it here first—Y/N thinks Paige Bueckers is overrated. Prepare for the inevitable Twitter meltdown!”

You chuckle, figuring it’s all in good fun. You and Taylor are known for your candid takes; it’s what fans love most about the show. This will be just another talking point, something people can debate online. You wrap up the episode, signing off with your usual mix of humor and playful barbs, and end the recording.

**********

A few hours later, you’re back at home, scrolling through Twitter out of habit. Normally, after an episode drops, fans will post funny clips or start discussions around your and Taylor’s latest takes. You expect some buzz, but this? The reaction is way bigger than usual.

Your notifications are packed with tags, mentions, and—oh. There it is. A clip of your “overrated” comment has already gone viral. One account with a sizable following has posted it, captioning, “Did Y/N just call Paige Bueckers overrated?!” The clip has already racked up thousands of likes and retweets, with fans both defending and attacking your opinion.

Curious, you start scrolling through the replies. A lot of fans are indignant, passionately defending Paige’s talent and listing her stats, achievements, and highlights as if you’ve personally insulted them.

“Overrated? Y/N clearly hasn’t seen a game.” “She’s one of the best of her generation—how can you not see that?” “Bet Y/N wouldn’t last five minutes trying to guard her.”

But there’s also a crowd that’s rallying behind your comment. Some fans are laughing, glad to hear someone finally say what they’d been thinking. “Finally, someone not drinking the Kool-Aid,” one user writes. Another adds, “She’s great, but let’s not pretend like there aren’t other amazing players out there.”

The debate is heated, and the takes are piling up faster than you can read them all. A quick glance at Twitter’s trending page reveals that your name and Paige Bueckers are both climbing the ranks.

You sigh, amused but slightly annoyed. It’s one thing to have fans debating, but Twitter is practically ablaze, turning what you thought was a lighthearted comment into a viral controversy.

By the next morning, things have escalated even further. As you sip your coffee, you notice that your notifications have doubled overnight. And this time, it’s not just random fans. Paige’s teammates are chiming in too.

Azzi Fudd has posted a clip of Paige landing a flawless three-pointer, captioned, “@Y/N, this looks overrated to you?” Jana’s added her two cents with a subtweet: “We all have opinions, I guess. Can’t wait for the next episode.” And KK has dropped a classic response: “Hot takes are like free throws—not everyone hits.”

Each comment comes with thousands of likes and retweets, adding fuel to an already blazing fire. You find yourself chuckling, impressed despite yourself. They’re all coming to Paige’s defense with such witty precision that it’s hard not to admire the loyalty.

Yet, you also feel a prickle of defensiveness. Sure, Paige is good—great, even—but does that mean everyone has to agree that she’s the best thing in sports right now? You pride yourself on being honest and not falling for the hype, but as you scroll through the seemingly endless tweets, part of you wonders if you went too far.

Taylor texts you with a stream of laughing emojis. “Looks like you got the basketball world up in arms. Congratulations!”

You text her back, trying to stay cool. “All in a day’s work, right? Who knew Paige Bueckers had such a dedicated fanbase?”

“Did you really think people would let you get away with that one?” she teases, sending a gif of a player shrugging. “I think you just made Twitter history.”

You laugh, trying to play it off, but as the morning wears on, you can’t stop refreshing the timeline. More comments flood in from basketball fans, analysts, and even a few pro athletes. It’s spiraled into something you never intended—an opinion piece turned viral moment.

That night, you’re lying in bed, scrolling through the remnants of the day’s chaos when a new notification catches your eye. It’s a message request, from someone with a verified blue check. Your heart skips a beat as you read the name.

Paige Bueckers.

You hesitate, not sure what to expect. You’ve been in the public eye long enough to know that some people thrive off the chance to “clap back,” and you half expect Paige to lay into you.

You click to open the message, bracing yourself, but what you read is the last thing you anticipated. The message is short, her tone direct but surprisingly playful: “Overrated, huh? Bold opinion. Care to explain?”

For a moment, you just stare, processing the fact that Paige Bueckers herself has taken notice of your podcast—and your opinion. There’s something oddly thrilling about the attention, and you can’t help but wonder what this conversation might lead to.

With a smirk, you hover over the reply button. You know that a response could pull you further into this whole debate, maybe even turn the interaction into something bigger than a passing Twitter controversy. But there’s a thrill in it—this was Paige Bueckers, after all. The fact that she’d reached out, even playfully, meant you’d gotten her attention. For someone so used to being idolized and hyped up, maybe your perspective had struck a nerve.

Do I play it cool? Double down?

A few clever responses run through your mind, each one more sarcastic than the last, but you decide to keep it simple and direct. After all, Paige’s message had a vibe—she wasn’t attacking you. She was…what? Curious? Challenging you? Either way, it felt like an invitation, and you weren’t about to back down.

“Guess I’m just not a fan of hype,” you type, keeping it short but loaded. You hit send before you can second-guess it.

Not even a minute later, a new notification pops up.

“Fair enough,” she replies. “But if you think it’s all hype, maybe you’ve been watching the wrong games.”

You stare at her reply, feeling a flicker of competitiveness spark to life. She was biting back, not with hostility but with confidence—clearly ready to defend herself without missing a beat. Part of you is annoyed, but a bigger part admires the quick comeback.

So you respond again, more playful this time. “Guess I’ll have to tune in to one of your good games, then.”

A couple of seconds pass, then another message from Paige appears, this one laced with a challenge: “Tell you what—how about courtside seats to the next game? See if you still think I’m overrated.”

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. Was she…inviting you? To her game? This was turning into something more than just a Twitter exchange. The idea of seeing her play up close, watching her skill in real-time, fills you with a mix of intrigue and resistance.

You sit with her offer, fingers poised above the keyboard. Every instinct is telling you to throw a snarky response back, but curiosity gets the better of you. Before you realize it, you’re typing, accepting her offer with a short, “I’ll be there.”

#paige buckets #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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tunemyart · 3 days ago

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So I've just watched the finale and I'm feeling... Weird. I think part of it is because this show started with everything I like in a story (cool badass ladies, a queer romance, found family, redemption, etc etc) and ended up being... Not all that (most characters die, the romance is doomed, and I guess the redemption mostly happened but wasn't entirely satisfactory to me). Also, I'm someone who as Trauma (tm) with death so, I guess my brain's first reaction is "fuck that I just want them all happy and safe" and it takes me a while to accept when stories take these paths, however well written they might be.

Still, I thought it all went a bit fast in the last 2 eps, with parts of the show ringing just a little bit more hollow than I would have expected? I'm left feeling like the characters of Alice, Mrs Hart and Jen were treated a bit superficially (Lillia's story felt more complete). I also wished we had seen more of Agatha's past because spending centuries just conning witches then killing them is... a bit boring? (maybe we learn more about her in WandaVision, I haven't seen it). And obviously I wished we had seen more of Agatha and Rio. It's like the show couldn't decide if it was about Agatha or about Billy (partly because, I'm guessing it's setting up a 3rd show about him?), and with this short format we ended losing a bit on Agatha's part.

Anyway, curious of what you think of all that because your analysis are always super interesting, and like I said my own brain might be a bit biased towards resistance with this one. And obviously would love to read your fanfic(s) should you write any!

So, I've started and restarted a reply to this a few times, but I think what my answer boils down to is: we're meant to have multilayered responses to this finale. We're meant to sit with it. It's meant to change our experience of the show we've had to this point.

I think the best metaphor for this is the fact the revelation that Rio is Death. Bear with me, because I know this got spoiled for us way early on and we all knew it and were all just waiting for the revelation to drop - but imagine for a second that we didn't know that Rio, Agatha's ex-girlfriend and spooky fun vaguely-a-psychopath as played by the delightful Aubrey Plaza, is death. Your perception of Rio would have been turned on its head. Your perception of Agatha would have been turned on its head. Your perception of the Witches' Road and what we're even doing here with Death walking alongside us as a tourist would have been turned on its head.

Now, we all had an incredibly fun time even with the knowledge that Rio is death before we should have had it. But I think some of the power for what it meant for the story - and our perception of what was really happening - was muted.

Jen, at the beginning of 1.08, says, "She told us who she was from the very beginning."

Sit with that - because the same is true of this story.

---

It turns out that the Road is a metaphor for death. This isn't fully illustrated for us until Nicky, the author of the Ballad, walks down the road with Death's hand in his, and we go, oh. Oh.

Agatha tells us in the beginning that the Road doesn't exist, a rare instance of her giving anyone unbridled truth. And sure - the Road that our coven walked down doesn't exist. The Road that all the witches Agatha lured to the deaths believed in doesn't exist. It's a fiction. But it's significant that Agatha lured them all to the Road and killed them. They wanted to walk the Road. They died. Not "they died instead" - it's a two-fold statement. They wanted to walk the Road and they died. In a gruesome way, Agatha's been taking witches on the Witches' Road since the 1750s.

I don't think the significance of that is lost on Agatha, either, especially where we pick up at the beginning of 1.08. Lilia's dead, and everybody's reeling.

Perhaps Agatha more than anybody.

---

I also want to quickly take a look at Rio's accusation of Agatha regarding Billy.

"The bodies are really piling up." "Did you doubt me?" "Yeah, I did. I thought there'd be a trick in there somewhere. And there was! You were distracting me from him."

Because this is a revelation about Agatha's actions toward not just Rio, but any audience watching her - i.e., us the viewers. She's been distracting us! Not from who Billy is, we know that of course, but with regard to what the Road itself is. Agatha's known the Road isn't real the entire time. She's been protecting Billy from that knowledge. She's been protecting Billy from Rio. She's been protecting the coven itself from disintegrating. And, the biggest con woman move of them all, she's been distracting us - with less and less success as the show goes on - from the fact that she is not even the slightest bit in control.

---

So I definitely want to circle back to what you said about how the show started out with everything you like in a story, because oof, yeah, I felt that. I felt that hard in the finale. Coming off the impact of the incredible storytelling in 1.07, and the queer jokes and campy Wicked cosplay balancing out the sad, I think many of us spent the next week expecting some kind of emotional resolution that probably involved the remaining coven banding together in some more of that found family we've felt them becoming along the way.

Here's where things starts going wrong, right off the bat: they don't. Instead, they splinter. Not only are you aware of just how few of them are left (Jen, Billy, Agatha), but Jen and Agatha can't handle Lilia's death. Jen's distraught. The close up on Agatha running away out of the trial and back onto the Road, alone, shows her looking hunted and wild in her guilt. Everything that follows has its seeds in that moment of rending that began with Lilia's death.

From the beginning, the point has been that Agatha Harkness is a covenless witch. It's something we've seen her revel in - maybe simply because she has no choice but to own it. But the fact is that here, for the first time in centuries, she had a coven. She didn't intend to have one - she intended to kill them all in her basement and not think twice about them again. But events transpired the way they did. They became her coven. And one by one, they all died on the Road.

Rio, of course, has the words to cut right to the quick: "Your coven is shrinking," she teases Agatha cruelly. Agatha looks wild - because she's right. The worst thing is that she killed Alice - and she didn't mean to. She didn't want to. But she did, and in exactly the same way she'd intended to kill her at the beginning, the same way she's been killing witches for hundreds of years. "Your coven is shrinking," and it's Agatha's fault. It's Agatha's coven. It's Agatha's coven.

Hold on to that, too.

---

One of the things that I've been mulling over most is Agatha's character. She's so much fun in the beginning. We're all fucking charmed by her. We also don't have the full context of just how much of a serial killer she is.

So for me, at least, watching 1.08 and not only not getting found family, but getting an Agatha so far away from a "redemption" story that she only just barely is willing to not sacrifice Billy for herself, was kind of a rude awakening. Agatha's a lot more of a villain that I was prepared for. Surprise!

Agatha's so far away from "redemption", in fact, that she's only just barely starting to feel empathy for other witches. She's just starting to be affected by people who aren't #1. And that's a trauma response. And it's so, so, so deeply rooted in her that she's only just starting to be able to conceive of the idea of people who care for her. Of the possibility of being able to live in community. She's not ready for a redemption arc. There was no way that the kind of redemption arc she'd need could fit into nine episodes, because so much of it would for her be predicated on a mental shift that Agatha just hasn't arrived at yet. She's still so angry. She's still so traumatized. She's done almost none of the work. And even at the end, even with the final gesture of sacrificing herself for Billy, that's not a final act of redemption, oh Agatha's now a good person/forgiven/insert word frame of choice.

What this show did in terms of redemption for Agatha was set her up to be in a place where she might want it - where she might want to do and be better for Billy, and someday, for Nicky.

And it's significant that that point comes for Agatha in dying… and after death.

---

This show is about death. The Road is about death. Death is a character on the show.

Like, okay, you're saying. Fine. But what about my gay fun times? What about my queer romance, my found family?

And please know that I'm there with you.

I'm not hugely in touch with what the larger fandom is saying and how they're reacting because I have my little echo chamber here on tumblr and a few friends who have actual social media, but even here I get the sense that we're all kind of :/ for fairly similar reasons. What happened to the show I fell in love with?

And for me, the last few days, I think it's been important to realize that the fact that the show I fell in love with didn't suddenly become a different show. It didn't pull a bait and switch. No twists were in bad faith. Everything has been right here in the text of the show from the very beginning.

And I think it's important to see the story that Jac Schaeffer et al. were actually telling vs. our expectations of what they were telling, or worse, what we wanted them to tell. For just one example, I was convinced we were going to see Alice again - maybe Lorna Wu, too. I wasn't expecting it to be for the sole purpose of recognizing that not only is she dead, but to give Alice herself the space to say that it wasn't fair, that she wasn't ready, that she'd just broken her family's curse, that now she can really do something with her life! Because, ugh, yeah! It's not fair, for all those reasons! But that's also death. Likewise, Sharon's just dead, and worse, her death was pretty much meaningless. Lilia rediscovered herself again, and she chose her death to save everyone else - extremely meaningful. But at the end - she's just dead. We don't see her again. She's gone. She, like the others, walked the Road and away with Death.

I loved these covenless witches. I loved them finding themselves together. I loved them bonding around the campfire and discovering community. I miss them all, so so much. But they told us from the beginning how haunted by death all of them were: Alice and her mom, Lilia and her coven in Sicily, Billy and William Kaplan, Agatha and her son and her ex-lover. And of course, Death herself. Forget haunting these individuals - she came to actually join the temporary coven. Like, fuck. They told us what this show was about.

---

This show is about death, but it's more complicated than that: we'll take our cue from Rio again, who, in being Death, is also the original Green Witch. In short, this show is about Green Craft, "growth and decay in constant flow."

So yes - almost every single witch in the coven dies. Yes, it's permanent. No, the queer romance isn't resolved happily. No, Agatha doesn't have a redemption, satisfying or otherwise. And no, none of it follows what we've come to expect from found family story trajectories.

But the focus shouldn't be solely on the decay. There's a whole cycle of growth coming up after it, even now, and it's being made possible by the death and decay that we just witnessed. And most importantly, it's confirmed that this isn't the end of the story - just the end of "Agatha All Along."

---

I'll finish by actually answering your question - I've been sitting with the finale for a few days, because I also felt weird about it. And I think that's the right word: "Weird." Very spooky season-esque, first of all, but also not tipping all the way right into "bad".

The first thing to acknowledge is that no story is perfect - they were limited by nine episodes by what they had the space to show, and finales are really hard to get just right. The second is that you're allowed to not like any or all of it, especially when something happens that asks you to change your entire understanding of the story thus far, i.e. the Road isn't real, or when you have a particular trauma around death and it turns out that that's what the whole show is about in ways we hadn't fully realized. The third is that it's worth sitting with stories sometimes and seeing how they marinate and develop in your brain and your soul over time. All of these things can and should coexist.

This isn't my first go-round with a series finale that initially made me ???, so I was fortunate in that I felt like I had a cheat sheet. I've still got some marinating to do to see how this continues to change for me. But it's helped me to realize that my ??? reaction is what the story wanted me to have - that the characters are reeling right along with me. Not just Alice in shock about her death, but also Billy at the implications of his creation of the Road regarding his responsiblity for what happened on it. We're meant to feel this way… and then we're meant to reconsider the journey we've been on, the Road we've walked with all of them and the death we've died alongside them, and see it anew for what it really is.

#thank you for the question anon and i hope this is some kind of an answer you were looking for #this is basically what's been the inside of my head since wednesday #agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #my meta #oh and re: fic - i have at least one aaa fic in progress!

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endearng · 1 day ago

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Stranger danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist | Part 2

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x singlemom!reader #singlemom!reader

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familyvideostevie · 3 days ago

Text

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #just and just as

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arc-misadventures · 2 days ago

Note

NNN Coco: With you writing so much about her and Jaune it seems like the right time to do this ask.

NNN: CO

Jaune: Haa... okay, Coco what is it you wanted me to see?

Coco: T-This.

Jaune: ...

Jaune: (Whistles~!)

Jaune: Wow... I knew you could pull off the bunny girl, but I didn't think you could pull it off that well!

Coco: Oh thanks, Jaune.

Jaune: So, what's with the outfit? Proving that you could pull it off, or is it for something else?

Coco: It's... It's November...

Jaune: Yeah, I know. I've been threating, Nora's life if she even thinks about bringing, Christmas items out before, November eleventh. The twelfth is fine, but not before the eleventh!

Coco: Oh, why is that?

Jaune: Because I don't like listening to, Christmas music. I think the transition from, Halloween to, Christmas is too fast, like a minute hasn't even passed, and we're already going from Jacko lanterns to snowmen decorations. Remembrance day is on the eleventh. Things such as those.

Coco: Oh, so it has to do with the timing, Christmas comes into play.

Jaune: Precisely. I don't mind Christmas, it just comes into play too soon in my opinion. But, I don't think that has anything to do with you in that bunny suit now does it?

Coco: N-No it doesn't...

Jaune: Oh what's this? Coco Adel, being all shy, and nervous? Pray tell, pray tell what is really going on with the bunny girl, Ms. Adel?

Coco: It's November... Meaning it's, No Nut November... a-and, I want you make sure you fail...

Jaune: Oh? OH?! Oh, Coco...

Jaune's placed his hand on, Coco's cheek turning her face to look at him.

Jaune: Why are you really doing this? I know you are not doing this to get me to fail some silly little game. You would have put any other girl in a bunny suit to get me to fail. But, why are you trying to get me to fail?

Coco: B-Because I thought it would be fun to make you lose, NNN...

Jaune: Coco... Just say the word...

Coco: The word...?

Jaune: The unspoken word. The word that could make, or break our relationship. The word that we are both too scared to say, but know in our hearts that we must say it. So say the word, Coco. And, I will be yours...

Coco: ...

Coco: J-Jaune...?

Jaune: Yes...?

Coco: I-I...

Jaune: ...

Coco: I love you...

Jaune: Ahh, there it is...

Jaune leaned forward, his lips crashing upon, Coco's causing her to swoon as their kiss deepened, before they broke apart.

Jaune: I love you too, Coco. I would have told you so sooner, but... Something told me that it wasn't me who needed to be the one to say it, it needed to be you. And, I must say... It was worth the wait...

Coco: You jerk~

Coco felt her body fall into, Jaune's as she embraced the feeling of his broad chest. She hummed softly as she felt, Jaune's tender embrace wrap around her.

Coco: So...

Coco: Can I still make you fail, NNN, or is now not the time for that?

Jaune: That depends...

Coco: On?

Jaune: You have any other sexy little numbers you want to try on for me?

Coco: Oh, I can think of one, or two~!

Jaune: Perfect.

~~~

Nora: YESSSSS!!!

Velvet: Fucking finally!

Weiss: (Sniff) That was beautiful...

Yang: Since when was, Jaune such a smooth talker?! He was shit with, Weiss, but god damn that was smooth?!

Pyrrha: Told you.

Ren: I never doubted it.

Blake: Took them long enough.

Fox: I don't think we'll be able to stay at our dorm room tonight.

Yatsuhashi: Not likely...

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #pyrrha nikos #nora valkyrie #coco adel #fox alistair #Yatsuhashi Daichi #velvet scarlatina #coco x jaune #jaune x coco #rwby french roast #blake bellodona

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megalony · 22 hours ago

Text

Don't Let Me Go

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by anon. Thank you for this idea I absolutely loved writing it I had so much fun and I hope you will all like it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Eddie have just had their first baby together, but (Y/n) doesn't know what to do when she starts to feel low. And she doesn't feel like she can look after the kids on her own.

(Descriptions of post-partum depression)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing her eyes, (Y/n) tilted her head forward and tried to stop herself from bursting out into tears. She shifted her heavy, weighted arms up a little while her head bent forward so her lips were meshing against her newborn's head.

The little girl was finally quiet, but to (Y/n), it felt like those cries were still swirling around in her head on full pelt. All she could hear was Lilah's incessant crying that tortured her all day long when Eddie was at work.

All night, (Y/n) had been up and down, up and down. She fed her, she rocked her when she wouldn't settle, she tried cuddling her but it didn't do much good. Lilah kept snivelling and whimpering like (Y/n) was a big bad monster. In the end, (Y/n) just went to sleep and kept her baby on her chest to whimper as much as she liked.

It must have worked because when she woke up a few hours later, Lilah was asleep and Eddie's hand was resting on the newborn's back.

She took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down and focused her eyes on Lilah so she didn't have to look around her. Her hand cradled the back of her head and she cuddled her closer, wishing they could both curl up and disappear.

"We can go home soon."

It wasn't as if they had been out all day. (Y/n) didn't have the strength or the energy for that. She had barely gotten from the bedroom into the living room. Then (Y/n) had burst into tears when she got comfy on the sofa and Lilah woke up crying for her bottle. Trekking into the kitchen and physically making a bottle had stolen every ounce of (Y/n)'s energy.

She wished Eddie was home.

(Y/n) knew it would be hard when Eddie went back to work after having two weeks at home with her and the kids. She just didn't realise how hard it was going to feel, being at home with Chris and Lilah without Eddie there as that extra support.

It would be alright if (Y/n) didn't feel like this. If she didn't feel so sluggish and broken. When Eddie was home it felt better. (Y/n) could ask him to hold Lilah or feed her so she could take a nap and he didn't bat an eyelid. She could move slowly about the house or just sit down with the kids and he didn't fuss. He took Chris to school and took Lilah for a walk to pick him up which gave (Y/n) a little while to herself.

Not anymore.

It had taken everything within (Y/n)- and a broken sob- to get herself up, put on her shoes and trudge out to the car. Driving had felt so frightening to (Y/n) because she could barely concentrate on whether the lights were green or red.

There was no possible way she could of left any earlier and walked Lilah to pick Chris up like Eddie sometimes did. (Y/n) had no willpower to move, she couldn't make it all the way there and back. It was either drive or try and call someone to bring Chris home, and (Y/n) couldn't call anyone and have them know that she felt so useless that she couldn't pick him up herself.

She burrowed herself further into Lilah whose little legs were wriggling and bashing into (Y/n)'s stomach every now and then. All (Y/n) wanted was for Lilah to settle down and go to sleep so that when they got home, (Y/n) could sleep too.

Whenever Lilah went to sleep these last few days without Eddie, (Y/n) had slept too. It was all she seemed to want to do. It was the only thing (Y/n) could do right.

She darted her eyes up and looked around the other parents waiting outside the school gates. (Y/n) was stood three feet from the car. It was a strategy. Standing this close to the car meant she didn't have to move far, Chris could still see her, and most importantly, no one would approach.

Everyone else was stood closer to the gates, all in their little coven circles, nattering away to each other. (Y/n) didn't want to be a part of that. She couldn't. She could barely string a sentence together and if the other parents started talking to her, they would see how useless of a mother she was turning out to be.

Lilah was (Y/n)'s first baby. When she married Eddie, she adopted Chris- something he had asked her to do himself- and it was the best thing in the world. Finding out she was pregnant a few months after their wedding was even better. They wanted kids, God (Y/n) wanted a baby of her own.

The other parents she knew from Chris's school had all been lovely, congratulating them, asking about the baby. They had all seen Lilah when Eddie came down to pick Chris up during those two weeks he was off.

Having Lilah was like a dream, but (Y/n) felt like she had changed personas somewhere along the line. She came home from the hospital and seemed to slump. She wanted to sit down, she had no will power to move. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton all the time, she was constantly fighting migraines.

And she didn't have low moods, she had no mood at all. Like she was on a factory setting, not happy, not frustrated or angry or sad, just… blank.

Having Eddie home made her feel better. He was a natural with the kids, with Lilah, and when he wrapped his arms around (Y/n), she felt soothed and relaxed and like her migraine was disappearing. But he had gone to work, and as soon as he left for that first day, (Y/n) broke down in tears.

She felt like she had been abandoned.

At some point, (Y/n) was frightened she was going to turn into some little puppy, crying by the front door from the moment Eddie walked out until the moment he came back home after work.

That thought frightened her like nothing else.

Relief swarmed in her eyes when she watched the kids start to flood out the gates towards them. As soon as Chris was with her, she could go back home. (Y/n) had been out the house for too long, she wanted to be back inside where she was safe and isolated and away from prying eyes.

"Mum!" Chris wriggled one arm out of his crutch when he reached her and glued himself into (Y/n)'s side, smothering his face in her stomach as he grinned. The touch made (Y/n) want to burst into tears and smile brighter than the sun at the same time, but she couldn't seem to do either.

He sounded so happy to see her, although she didn't know why. Why would anyone be happy to see her? She hadn't done anything of significance, she wasn't even being a proper mum right now. She felt useless.

"Hi, good day?" Her voice was on the verge of cracking when she lowered Lilah in her arms so she could lean down and kiss Chris's curls. She had to make some sort of effort with him.

She couldn't help but wonder what Chris had been like as a baby. She wondered if Shannon had ever struggled to get him settled and if he was a fussy baby. She wondered if Chris had been as glued to Eddie as their daughter now was, but then again, (Y/n) wasn't sure because Eddie had been in the army. He was away a lot so it would of been natural for Chris to cling to Shannon, not him.

Whereas Eddie was around now. He had been here for all of (Y/n)'s pregnancy, not just the birth and he spent the first two weeks barely putting Lilah down. Going back to work didn't change how infatuated Eddie was with Lilah and she always settled for him straight away.

It was overwhelming to have Chris attached to (Y/n) considering Lilah seemed to want Eddie more. She had made up her mind that her dad was better, but (Y/n) knew she could count on Chris to want and love her. He never got upset and demanded to have Eddie instead.

"It was fun," He reached his hand up and gently brushed his fingers up and down Lilah's back who wasn't crying or whimpering anymore, just fidgeting.

When (Y/n) nodded towards the car, Chris beamed and hurried to open the back door for (Y/n) since she had Lilah in her arms. He put his crutches and bag in the back and climbed in the front seat.

(Y/n) was glad to set Lilah down. It felt nice to cuddle her, but it was effort. Picking her up and soothing her was so much time and effort that (Y/n) physically couldn't seem to find at the moment. She hoped the car ride would put her right to sleep and that she wouldn't wake until Eddie came home.

Did that make her selfish?

"Let's go home." Her voice was quiet and she wasn't sure Chris even heard her, but it didn't really matter.

When she climbed in the car, all (Y/n) wanted to do was curl up and close her eyes, but she was the adult here. She was the one in charge. She nodded when Chris pointed to the radio. That was a good idea. (Y/n) couldn't afford to have no background noise because if there were no distractions, what would stop her from falling asleep right now?

"Not too loud," She murmured and ran her hand up and down her aching temple before she put the car in gear. The sooner they left the sooner they could get back home.

She didn't want the music loud. Usually she, Chris and Eddie would always have it loud and they would sing and blast out their favourite songs. But (Y/n) couldn't handle the noise. Background noise to keep her awake was fine, but loud noise to thunder along with her headache would only make her cry. And it would disturb Lilah which she couldn't afford when she couldn't settle her again; not yet.

Chris sat forward and began bopping along to the music, looking out the window like he was in a world of his own. Every now and then he looked over at (Y/n) and those chocolate eyes pulled at something in her chest. She didn't feel like talking, but he might.

"T- tell me about your day." It hurt to force herself to speak when all she wanted to do was go mute.

What she wanted was to disappear from the world.

But she didn't want to make Chris aware of that or make him feel bad, and the way he smiled and started to babble in a similar manner to his uncle Buck when he was excited made (Y/n)'s heavy heart lift just a little.

(Y/n) could feel tears burning in her eyes when they finally pulled up at home. All she wanted was get Lilah and curl up in bed with her. (Y/n) wanted to go to sleep and wake up with Eddie at home, there to sort everything out and make everyone feel a hundred times better.

"…mum?"

"Hm?" She bit down on her lip when she moved her hand to her temple and realised her hands were trembling.

Her shaking fingers scoured against her temple, pressing and rubbing circles into her skin to no avail. It did nothing to rid her of the thunder inside her head; the tormenting weather that no one else could see or feel. The pain that was growing and becoming agitating to the point (Y/n) was ready to lie in bed and never get up until her headache relented.

She looked over at Chris who was smiling as he flung his belt off, ready to get out the car.

"Can we watch a movie?"

She guessed by his tone that he had already asked her that and she hadn't heard him. Thank God. Thank God he was asking her that and not asking if they could do a puzzle or build another Lego creation or play a game. (Y/n) didn't have that much strength within her. But a movie, she could do.

"A movie in bed?" She loved the way Chris nodded and bolted from the car as if it were a race. (Y/n) might beat him to the bed if it was a race.

She could do that. She could get out the car, get Lilah, trudge through the house and collapse in bed with the kids. They had a crib attached to the side of the bed so keep Lilah close at night, and it was a godsend. It was originally so they didn't have to get up and go into the nursery five or six times a night to settle her or change and feed her. Having her in their room was so much easier.

But having the crib attached to the bed was better for (Y/n) when she felt like this. If Lilah whimpered, all she had to do was reach her hand across and her baby was there. She didn't physically have to get out of bed to pick her up and lay with her, only to go and make the bottles.

Right now, all (Y/n) had to do was prompt herself and plan out the route of getting from the car to the bed.

She could do that.

***

Running his hands up and down his face, Eddie tried to ward off the tiredness in his eyes as he stifled a yawn. His bare feet padded along the laminate hallway and his hands switched to scratch along the back of his neck. He felt like going to bed. He'd made the wrong decision of catching two hours of sleep on a night shift at the station last night and it had made him lethargic all day. He should have powered through instead.

He could hear the tv blaring with the movie Chris was happily watching before going to bed and Eddie prayed both kids would manage to sleep so he could have a bit of time with (Y/n) before the pair of them conked out asleep too.

He peered into the nursery since the door was partially open, but the room was empty. He continued down the hall and padded into his and (Y/n)'s room, but again came up empty. The light was on, the curtains were drawn and a pile of clothes were placed on the end of the bed. She had to be in the bathroom.

Eddie changed course and shuffled from the bedroom across to the bathroom. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the door and headed inside with a gentle smile lighting up his face when he looked towards the bath.

For a moment he thought (Y/n) was asleep. She was slouched down in the bath, her head barely resting on the edge of the tub and her knees were slightly bent, just scraping the surface of the water.

She had her eyes closed and her chin and lips submerged in the water, causing soft ripples to break out through the water with every breath she took. And her hands were tightly bound on Lilah's sides, keeping the newborn propped up against her knees and sat on her abdomen.

The sight made Eddie's heart explode in his chest and a surge of warmth spread through his blood. Although he was the tiniest bit unsure because of how relaxed (Y/n) seemed; the thought of her falling asleep in the bath with Lilah in her arms was daunting, even if it was far-fetched.

"Hey, there are my girls."

His voice was quiet and he used the edge of the bath so he could kneel down on the bathmat. His arms folded on the edge of the bath and he leaned his chin on his arms while his eyes looked over his wife.

He watched the way (Y/n) blearily blinked and turned her head in his direction, and the foggy look in her eyes told him she was even more tired than he thought when he came home. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, but Eddie was sure that wasn't the case.

Her eyes almost looked vacant, there was something distant in them that made Eddie feel like they were standing hundreds of miles apart rather than being less than a foot away like this.

The little hum (Y/n) let out made Eddie smile and (Y/n) slowly drifted her eyes from Eddie over to Lilah before locking back on him again.

All she wanted to do was disappear under the water and see if it would make her feel any better. To see if it would make her feel something, anything, other than dull and tired. She was almost numb. The hot water had relaxed her, but now (Y/n) felt like she was too relaxed, like she was about to slip into an abyss and never wake up again. And she didn't want to take Lilah with her into a dark abyss like that.

"Want me to take her? You look like you're about to fall asleep in here."

Eddie reached one hand out so he could brush Lilah's cheek. He was surprised the newborn was so settled and calm in here, she too looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep. The water must be comforting to her.

It took everything within (Y/n) to stop herself from falling asleep in here. She knew she couldn't. A lapse in focus for even a second could cause her to loosen her grip on Lilah and have her baby sliding under the water. (Y/n) couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.

Deep down she knew she should have tried to settle Lilah before she came in the bath. At least then, if (Y/n) wanted to sleep or let herself submerge under water for a while, she wouldn't have to focus on keeping her baby safe. But she couldn't ask Eddie to take her when he had been with her most of the morning, it wouldn't be fair.

And for once, Lilah hadn't been crying when (Y/n) had fed her and cuddled her. It felt too good of a moment to let go, if Lilah was settled for her (Y/n) wanted the moment to last.

(Y/n) wanted to agree, she wanted to let Eddie take Lilah, but she couldn't. She was the mother. She had barely done anything today, she had to at least try and act the part even if she didn't feel it right now.

She tried to speak, to form a sentence and actually talk, but she could barely get one word out.

"Headache." Her eyes looked up to her temple before she closed them and sank back down in the water.

"Again?" A spark of worry ignited in Eddie's voice as he leaned his cheek on his left arm so he could move his right hand out towards (Y/n). His knuckles brushed against her cheek and his thumb swiped beneath her eye just as (Y/n) leaned her head into his touch. She pressed her warm, sodden lips into the back of his hand, wishing they could just stay like this forever.

The lack of response gave Eddie his answer and he sighed as he leaned up so his chest was pressing into the edge of the bath. He moved his hand to nudge beneath (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head up enough so that he could steal a kiss.

It was strange to feel her lips so warm like this and the constant trickling of water running down the bridge of her nose and dampening both their lips made Eddie's nerves ignite. Their noses brushed and when he looked back into her eyes, his heart was struck when he thought she was about to cry.

His hand stayed cradling her face for a few seconds before he reached out and swiped a towel from the rail.

"Let me take her, and I'll grab you some painkillers."

(Y/n) nodded, barely having the energy to lean up for another kiss, but she tried. She felt his lips move to peck her cheek, then her neck and her eyes closed again to relish in the touch that seemed to linger on her skin and take her mind off the tears threatening to spill over.

She felt oddly empty when Eddie carefully eased Lilah from her arms and wrapped her up in a towel.

He cradled their girl against his chest, meshing his lips with the top of her head while he hummed and slowly got to his feet. But his eyes continued to find their way back to (Y/n). He didn't want to leave her, something was drawing him back like she was upset or in need of something, but he wasn't sure what. His hand smoothed up and down Lilah's back as he headed out the bathroom and into the nursery to get her changed. He would get a drink and some painkillers for (Y/n) so she would feel better when she got out the bath.

(Y/n) felt like going back to sleep. She felt like letting herself slump under the water and seeing what would happen, but she didn't. She couldn't.

She had to get out the bath now before she lost the little energy she had left. The energy she had reserved ready to will herself to get out the bath with Lilah.

If she didn't move now, (Y/n) knew she would lay here until the water went cold and then after that too. She would stay here until Eddie came looking for her again and she would panic him if she just went to sleep here. It didn't matter that she wanted to stay submerged in the water where she could escape. It didn't matter that getting out the bath and getting into pyjamas actually took effort.

Nothing mattered anymore.

The moment she was out the bath, tears began to trickle down her face as she slumped onto her knees on the bathmat in Eddie's vacant place and dragged a towel around her shivering frame. It wasn't cold. She didn't know why she was shaking like she was when she couldn't be, not after being in the hot water for half an hour or longer.

She was glad she had left her hair tied up. Washing her hair was such an effort and (Y/n) couldn't be bothered with it recently. Dry shampoo had become her best friend. Washing her hair involved effort, it was time consuming and the act of then having to dry her hair was even worse. (Y/n) didn't have the effort, and she hated walking around with wet hair.

She bowed her head and tightened her arms around her frame, letting the towel soak the remnants of water from her skin rather than actually drying herself. This was simpler. This was easier.

Everything drained from her head once she pushed up onto unsteady feet and secured the towel around her frame. She usually brought her clothes into the bathroom and got changed in here. She wasn't sure why she forgot her clothes.

A shuddering breath left her lips when she walked into the bedroom and noticed Lilah was already in her cot attached to the side of the bed. She wasn't asleep, but she was on her way. How long had (Y/n) been in the bathroom willing herself to get dry if Eddie had changed, dressed her and settled her already?

Loose tears trickled down the bridge of her nose, but (Y/n) swiped them from existence and set on getting changed. The feeling of Eddie's shirt hanging off her frame was comforting. His scent was calming and (Y/n) pulled the collar up so it rested on the bridge of her nose so she was overwhelmed with Eddie's scent while she wore her own underwear and pyjama shorts that somehow didn't feel right compared to Eddie's clothes. Nothing about (Y/n) or her things felt right anymore.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Eddie's voice took her by surprise and she turned to watch him walk back into the room. He set down a glass of juice and some tablets on the bedside table but once he perched down on the edge of the bed, (Y/n) moved too.

She didn't really think, she seemed to move on autopilot, aiming for Eddie like he was the only thing she could see and understand.

When she sat down on his lap, his arms moved to accomodate her and surprise flooded his face, although he would never complain. He wound his arms around (Y/n)'s waist while she deadlocked her arms around his neck and burrowed her face into his neck.

The feeling of each breath Eddie took pressing against her nose and the thumping of his pulse was consuming and warming and (Y/n) could smell his aftershave which always made her feel like she was home wherever they were.

"Amor, are you okay?" Eddie's voice seemed to fall on deaf ears while he glided his hand up and down (Y/n)'s back and his lips attached to the top of her head. He tried to tilt his head back and lean his chest back a little so he could look down at her, but he was in shock to see (Y/n) was practically half asleep.

She could barely open her eyes and she couldn't formulate any words either. Her arms squeezed his neck and her legs bound tight around his torso, clinging to him like she was afraid someone was suddenly going to tear him away from her.

He found himself leaning forward into her and peppering kiss after kiss against her temple to see if it would do any good. It was evident (Y/n) didn't feel well and Eddie wanted to make her feel better, or at least calm her down in any way he could.

He automatically started to sway them from side to side while he stayed perched on the end of the bed. Not daring to move because (Y/n) seemed so calm and relaxed like this and he didn't want to shift the atmosphere.

But Eddie was sure he could hear her murmuring "Don't let me go." into his neck, and it made shivers break out beneath his skin.

***

I can't do anything.

That one thought swirled around in (Y/n)'s head more than anything else. The words danced in front of her eyes. The voice in her head was whispering them so much that it was the only thing she could comprehend.

Tears began to slither down the bridge of her nose as she tried to turn her head and smother her face into the cushion, but it wasn't working. Nothing she did was making her feel any better. Nothing made her feel normal; like herself.

Who was she? Why was she feeling like this?

Her knees coiled up higher to her stomach and her arms bound around her chest while she tucked herself down into the sofa like a child trying to disappear. (Y/n) wanted to disappear. She didn't want to feel like this anymore. She wanted to feel like herself, not whoever was now trapped in her body with her.

She couldn't move. She couldn't find the energy to get up off the sofa where she had been for most of the morning. Her throat was parched and dry from silent sobs, but she didn't hold the strength to go and get a drink. She didn't have the willpower to be bothered about getting a drink either.

She had a headache whether she drank gallons of water or forgot when the last time she had a drink was, so what did it matter if she didn't go and get one?

Her body was sluggish like it wasn't truly under her control anymore. She didn't have the willpower to get up for anything.

She wasn't hungry, she wasn't thirsty. She didn't have any motivation to move around the house. She couldn't take baths anymore because they were too tempting to slip under the water and she couldn't drag herself out of them. (Y/n) couldn't even get a shower yesterday or today because the effort was too much.

And her moods didn't feel like she was even sad, she just felt blank. A plain canvas, desperate for someone to streak a splash of colour across her and make her feel something. (Y/n) would give anything to feel angry, to feel like screaming or shouting or have too much energy and no way of letting it out. She would give everything in the world to feel as happy as she did in the months leading up to Lilah's birth.

She wanted to feel as excited, thrilled and loving as she did when she thought about being a mum while she was pregnant. She didn't think she would feel like this.

It felt horrible.

When a little sniffle followed by a whimper broke through the barrier in (Y/n)'s ears, she could feel her chest quivering as her eyes cast down to her daughter.

Lilah had been asleep in the rocker that (Y/n) had dragged as close to the sofa as she could so they were side by side. Not that (Y/n) could really find the energy to look after either of her kids today.

"Please…" (Y/n) wasn't sure what she was asking of her baby girl and she couldn't seem to find any more words than that.

But when Lilah whimpered again, flood waves burst down (Y/n)'s face and a matching, feeble sound clawed at the back of her throat. Was it time to feed Lilah already? She couldn't. She couldn't do it. She wasn't sure she would be able to move from the sofa or try her luck picking her daughter up.

Her hands began to scratch at her chest like she was clawing her way towards her heart that was fracturing into millions of tiny pieces all around her chest. As if she could bear her pain and show Lilah she couldn't help her; that she couldn't give her what she wanted. What was she going to do?

"Mum, want some dinner?"

Chris wandered out the kitchen and aimed for the living room to see if his mum was still in there. She told him this morning they would be having a chill day today and she had let him spend the morning playing video games in his room while she and Lilah had been in here.

About half an hour ago, Chris had made a sandwich since he was hungry and he presumed (Y/n) had been asleep. He didn't want to wake her when he could make himself something to eat. But he knew his mum hadn't had dinner yet either and Eddie told him to help and look after both girls when he went back to work.

The eleven year old went into the living room and stood by the end of the sofa, leaning over the arm rest so he could look over at (Y/n).

His head tilted to one side and his brows furrowed when he looked down at her. She was curled up in that manner that Chris would lay when he had stomach ache or when he wasn't well. He couldn't see her face, she was hiding in the pillow. And when he realised his baby sister was subtly whimpering and kicking in her rocker, he found it very odd.

Usually if Lilah began to cry, either parent would pick her up and see what she needed. And Chris could see (Y/n) wasn't asleep, she was shaking like she was cold.

"Are you sick?"

When Chris pressed his hand against her temple, (Y/n) couldn't help the way she shuddered and how mor tears streamed down her face and soaked into the cushion.

She was the adult. She was the parent, the one who was supposed to be taking care of him and Lilah. And she was laid here, useless, needing help herself like she had been reduced to a child.

She tried to move one hand away from clawing at her chest, and she managed to reach out and squeeze Chris's wrist, giving him the tiniest bit of comfort she could muster. When she seemed to lose her energy, she flopped her hand over the side of the sofa and laid her hand on Lilah's chest. The newborn temporarily stopped whimpering at the touch, but then she continued to kick her legs out and began to cry.

She was hungry.

She had to be hungry, (Y/n) couldn't remember when she last fed her. What kind of mother did that make her?

She needed to move. She needed to get up and pick her daughter up and go and feed her and look after Chris too, but she couldn't. (Y/n) didn't think she held the strength to pick up her baby, as horrible as that might make her.

"Mum?" Chris didn't like this. She still hadn't talked to him or said if she was okay. Was he supposed to go to his room again and leave her like this? Was he meant to sit down next to her? Should he try and cuddle Lilah for a while until (Y/n) felt well enough to move?

"Please… pl- call your dad." Why was it so much effort to talk? Why was it so hard to use her broken voice and gather strength to get her dry throat to work and talk for a change?

(Y/n) kept her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to look up and witness Chris's expression.

She didn't want to know whether he was angry at her or panicking or wondering why his mum was so useless and silly. (Y/n) didn't want to see the disappointment hiding within his eyes. She just wanted to make everything stop or make herself disappear.

Chris didn't need to be told twice.

As soon as she asked, he backed up and made his way down the hallway towards his room to get his phone. He flopped onto his bed, tapping his toes against the floor while his legs jittered up and down.

What would he do if his dad didn't answer? He couldn't always pick up the phone when he was at work. If he couldn't answer, did that mean that Buck wouldn't be able to pick up either? Would he have to call Carla if he couldn't get hold of anyone? Or maybe Maddie at 911?

"Dad?" Relief like never before swelled inside of Chris when his dad answered after four rings. Expertly cutting off the inner monologue and the doubling panic inside of Chris.

"Chris, everything okay?"

It wasn't normal for Eddie to get a phone call from Chris when he was at work. He couldn't remember the last time Chris had called him like this. It was usually (Y/n) and even then she asked him first and then called so Chris could speak to him before he went to sleep or if he wanted to talk about something.

The one and only time Eddie had gotten a phone call at work from his family was when (Y/n) had fallen and she needed him to take her to the hospital.

"Can you come help mum?" Those five little words were enough to spark a fire within Eddie and have him walking away from the kitchen so he could take this call in private.

"Help her, why what's happened? Has she had a fall?"

"I don't know… she's crying, and- and she can't get up from the sofa, she said to call you."

That didn't sound right. (Y/n) crying told Eddie that she was conscious and awake, and clearly in some sort of pain or agony. She didn't usually cry in front of Chris, she used to shy away from Eddie in the beginning of their relationship so he wouldn't see her cry.

But she wasn't in the bathroom or the kitchen after a fall or a cooking accident like he would typically expect. Had she been sick? Had she woken up in agony? What was the problem?

"Can you put her on the phone for me please?" Eddie needed to talk to her. He needed to know what was going on.

He heard Chris hum and he tangled his hand in the short hairs at the back of his head while he waited. His foot began to tap against the floor and he found himself holding his breath to try and calm his system down while he heard Chris shuffling and stomping, presumably into the living room to find (Y/n).

When he reached the living room, Chris held the phone out towards (Y/n), muttering a quiet "I called dad," to try and get her to talk to him. But he frowned when (Y/n) shook her head and burrowed her face into the cushion.

She seemed to have curled up even more since he left the room. Her body was contorted into a tiny ball and she had pulled the collar of her shirt up towards her eyes so Chris could barely see her. And so he couldn't see the tears streaming down her face.

"She can't talk, she's upset."

"Fuck… tell her I'm coming home now, okay? Please stay there with her until I get home."

One hundred and one thoughts ran through Eddie's mind on the way home. He was so panicked he wasn't sure whether he had gone through a red light or not, and he didn't have time to care.

What was wrong with his wife? Had she hurt herself? Had she been sick? It had been just over a month since she had Lilah so it couldn't be any complication after birth like an infection, that would of shown up sooner than this. Eddie could think of quite a few different things that could be wrong, and all of them were frightening.

By the time he pulled up in the drive he was in a state of panic, almost shaking from uncertainty and paranoid thoughts. Part of him wished he had taken Hen up on her offer to come with him and see if she could help in any way. But when Eddie didn't know the problem, he didn't want to have anyone else involved.

He barely shut the door behind him as he sped through the hall and into the living room, guessing that they were still in there since Chris said (Y/n) couldn't move from the sofa.

He paused in the doorway once he reached the living room, scanning the scene in the same way he did when he approached a scene at work.

Chris was sat on the floor in between the sofa and the arm chair, legs crossed, cheek leaning on the sofa to be closer to (Y/n). He had one hand stretched out, gently nudging the rocker where Lilah was whimpering but not making too much of a fuss at the moment. But his other hand was tightly squeezing (Y/n)'s hand like he was either comforting her or trying to keep her awake.

Not that (Y/n) looked like she was about to pass out. Eddie could barely see her. He had to step closer into the room to get a proper look at his wife. She was laid on the sofa, knees embedded into her chest so much that it must be hurting her stomach. One arm was hidden against her chest while she other hung limply off the side of the sofa to hold Chris's hand.

Her face was tucked into the cushion, but it was her expression that was frightening Eddie. Tears streaked down her face. Eyes half-lidded, lower lip wobbling as shuddering breaths left her lips.

"Buddy, can you give me a minute to help your mum please?" Leaning over, Eddie cupped the back of Chris's head and gently kissed her curls.

His heart almost burst when he watched Chris slowly get up, press a tender kiss to (Y/n)'s temple and head down the hall towards his room. He knew Eddie would assess and look after (Y/n) now he was home, there was no need for Chris to worry anymore.

Once he was out of view, Eddie weaved around the rocker and perched down on the sofa beside (Y/n)'s thighs.

"Baby, can I take a look at you?"

Eddie wasn't sure what to do first. He couldn't see any blood or a point of pain that (Y/n) was cradling or sobbing about. He could see she was awake and alert so he didn't have to worry about her passing out or having some kind of internal bleed or problem.

His hands slithered down (Y/n)'s arms to gently hold her biceps so he could try and lift her up. He couldn't help her if she continued to lay like this, he had to sit her up to assess her and talk to her. But the moment he reeled her up so she was sitting up with him, he was taken back.

Her arms deadlocked around his chest and she meshed her face into his chest like she was trying to turn them into one being.

He could feel each harsh breath she took and the tears that were soaking into his shirt and the way she was trembling was making him shake too. He curved an arm around her waist while his other hand cupped the back of her neck and he pressed a lasting kiss to the top of her head.

"Talk to me amor, what's going on?" The soft tone in Eddie's voice and the underlying tone of understanding made (Y/n) wail. She didn't want him to understand or be nice to her. She didn't deserve it.

When Eddie tried to tilt her back so he could look down at her properly, he pursed his lips when (Y/n) shook her head. She tried to cling to him even more until she was cutting off his breathing and making his chest pulse with a dull ache.

Instead of letting go, Eddie pressed his arms firmly around (Y/n) to the point he was sure he would hurt her in a minute, but it seemed to do the trick. Pinning her to him this tightly seemed to stop her from shaking and made her feel comforted, maybe even safe, he wasn't sure. But he was glad it worked.

"Talk to me," He repeated quietly. This clearly wasn't any sort of injury which was a bit of a relief, it meant Eddie wouldn't have to make a trip with the family down to the emergency room. But it still didn't tell him what the problem was.

"I don't know, I can't… I can't do anything. I feel bleak, my head… I want- I want to shut down."

It seemed to take a while for (Y/n) to find her words, but they didn't feel right. She couldn't find the right way to express how she felt or convey to Eddie what the problem was, but what she said clearly seemed to make sense to him because he nodded against her head and hummed.

She was so focused on breathing in his scent and meshing her face into his chest that she gasped when she realised his arms were no longer pinned around her. His hands carefully cupped her face and he tilted her head back so she was looking up at him, he wanted to check her over.

There was a mental checklist in Eddie's head while he leaned his chin down and looked into her eyes.

She was having a lot of headaches, she was suffering low moods. She was more tired than Eddie had ever seen her before and she was finding it hard to get up and to even start sentences and carry on a conversation.

"Do you still feel tired? Chris said you didn't feel able to get up." When she nodded, he hummed and ticked off another point in his mental list. "Have you eaten anything or had something to drink?" The shake of her head made Eddie's chest shudder.

His hands dropped from her face so his arms could bind around her, and (Y/n) didn't have to cling to him for Eddie to know she wanted to be held tightly. He squeezed her into him and leaned his cheek on top of her head while he gently swayed them from left to right.

He paused and waited while (Y/n) tried to move, but Eddie could feel how sluggish she was and the amount of effort it took for her to shift even a tiny bit on the sofa.

Eddie felt somehow relieved when (Y/n) twisted around so she could sit on his thighs and her arms bound back around his chest while she tucked back into him like a child seeking comfort. He gripped her waist, digging his fingers lovingly into her hip while he merged his lips with her temple and tried to kiss away her headache.

He knew the problem.

Eddie was ashamed it had taken this long for him to see the signs. (Y/n) had to get to this point for Eddie to realise something was wrong. Chris had to call him at work for him to see just how bad things were and to come home and try to help instead of blunder on, oblivious to his wife's torment.

She was depressed. Having Lilah had switched something in (Y/n)'s mind and during this last month, she had developed post-partum depression.

Eddie hadn't thought of this happening. He had missed the first four months with Chris being a baby because he had to finish his tour in the army. Shannon hadn't experienced any depression after having Chris, and neither had his sisters when they had their kids.

With how happy and excited they had been to have Lilah, Eddie vainly assumed (Y/n) wouldn't be at risk of developing this. But in hindsight he should have talked to her before now to make sure.

"Okay, I'm gonna call Bobby and let him know I can't go back to work for the next few days. And then I'm gonna get you an appointment with the doctor as soon as possible, we'll get you some help."

He could already see the phone calls planning out in his head. Bobby would understand. He would agree straight away that Eddie couldn't go back to work until (Y/n) was getting some help, he couldn't leave her like this and he had to look after the kids too.

And Eddie would ring the doctors now and make them give (Y/n) the earliest appointment. He didn't know the last time she had something to eat or drink, she was in agony in her mind and she couldn't get up. She needed an emergency appointment and Eddie wasn't giving up until someone listened to him and helped his wife.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't say that. You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?" He went back to swaying them from side to side while his hand ran up and down her back to try and calm her down.

She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't done anything to cause this and Eddie wouldn't have (Y/n) apologising when she hadn't done anything wrong. She was sick and she needed help, and that was exactly what was going to happen.

"I'm their mum, a-and I can't…"

I can't even finish a sentence.

A shudder passed through her body while she pressed up into Eddie, clutching him tighter like she thought he was going to agree with her. But the understanding in him was so loving and natural that (Y/n) didn't know what to think or do.

When she asked Chris to call Eddie, she did it because the kids needed him, not because she did. But having him comfort her and hold her broken pieces together like this was a remedy (Y/n) didn't know she needed until now. Eddie was going to help her. He wasn't going to let her feel like this for a moment longer and that was comforting.

(Y/n) didn't want to feel like this. She wanted to be a mother, she wanted to take Chris to school and look after him and cook with him and settle him. And she wanted to take Lilah out on walks to the park and actually feed and change her and cuddle with her and be a proper mum to both kids, rather than feeling like another child that needed tending to.

"Being unwell doesn't make you any less of a mum. You won't feel like this for long, I'll make sure of it."

(Y/n) felt a bit more free and able to move when she lifted her head from Eddie's chest so she could lean her cheek on his shoulder instead. She looked up at him with those doe eyes that always melted his heart and when he reached out to brush a stray tear from her cheek, (Y/n) leaned into the touch.

"I'm gonna take care of you."

His words were enough to calm down the raging storm inside (Y/n)'s mind and for a few moments, she forgot about the headache storming behind her eyes.

Her hand clutched at his wrist, keeping his hand where it was, cradling the side of her face. And she pushed up enough to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss. He was going to look after her, and that was all (Y/n) needed to hear.

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie x reader #eddie diaz family #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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sarahreesbrennan · 1 day ago

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Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

#long live evil #chronic illness #cancer #epic fantasy #isekai #books and reading #criticism #portal fantasy #rae parilla #body horror positivity

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deathbyday · 2 days ago

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it’s honestly kinda sad that i feel the need to address this due to nobody else talking about it(from what I’ve seen).

anya’s personality isn’t only about her SA. it’s heavily implied that she’s usually this silly, fun and calm character to be around when jimmy isn’t near.

that being said, jimmy is definitely not a reliable narrator for any of the characters besides himself. the only thing he could be reliable about is his own personality and how he views the other crew members, especially anya.

she shouldn’t be viewed as someone who is a weak, pathetic person. i understand that in the game it mainly seems like she is weak, but like i said, that’s only because the player is in jimmy’s perspective for more then half the game.

while the player is in curly’s perspective, it’s implied that she 100% has more of an actual personality other then what has happened to her.

alongside that, it’s totally okay to write about reader comforting anya. but when it’s all anyone ever sees while trying to find stuff for anya x reader, it starts to get a little annoying.

but obviously, i can’t tell someone to stop writing about what they want to write, so please continue. this is just my opinion.

i’m not hating on anyone. please don’t be offended by this, that’s not my intention at all! i love everyone who writes for anya and the other crewmates, unless it’s weird stuff.

(written off the top of my head, so i apologize for any grammar mistakes. love you guys! next chapter for the daisuke fic will be up sometime tuesday<3)

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #video games #x reader #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #writers on tumblr #indie games #horror games

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aziraphales-library · 2 days ago

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hi there! I was wondering if you had any ineffable wives fics where one of them is trans fem. I'm hoping to find something that reminds me of me and my girlfriend :D any rating would be appreciated. thank you so much, have an amazing day!

Hello! Here are some ineffable wives where one of them is trans...

I only want to look in your eyes by orphan_account (E)

Crowley was laid out on the bed, her shirt off, her chest already flushed with eagerness. Her long, luxurious red curls spread out around her head, and her eyes - beautiful liquid golden things, glowing now with joy - made Aziraphale think of the sun. “Love,” Aziraphale said, and leaned over Crowley, down from where she straddled Crowley’s thighs, kissing her forehead tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.” Aziraphale rides her wife, and they're both so full of love they think they'll explode.

till love have all his rites by marveling_under_an_open_sky (G)

“Hello there,” a voice said. “Do you need a hand?” Crowley straightened up and began to turn with a firm rebuttal already on her tongue. She might be skinny enough to give a sunflower stalk a run for its money, but she’d been wrangling plants for years, thank you very much, and she was perfectly capable of— Jesus fuck. The author just really loves butches, all right?

Creative Ways to Use Your Planning Period by The_Bentley (E)

“We have an hour. You wanna?” Crowley whispered in Aziraphale’s ear before leaving a rather chaste kiss on her softly rounded cheekbone. “Here? Are you out of your mind?” “No. Nobody’s going to come around, and we can certainly make sure if they do, they’ll find they have more important business than opening up this door.” Crowley was walking slowly into Aziraphale, pushing her towards the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, ideas forming in her head. When Warlock leaves for his lunch period, his tutors have some sneaky fun of their own.

The Art of Human Nature by IneffableDoll (T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

The Diary of Ms A.Z. Fell, From The Age of Eight to the Present Day by punkbean (G)

"My name is Aziraphale Fell and I am a girl and I am eight years old. I am writing this for a school project to practice writing. I think this is stupid as I can write quite well, but I like Ms Smith so I am doing it anyway." Aziraphale's school diary quickly becomes a place for her to chronicle the friendship between her and her new best friend, Anthony Crowley.

A Common or Garden Romance? by die_traumerei (M)

A nature walk queer mixer? It's not Aziraphale's usual thing, but that's described the last few years, so off she goes, and even makes a friend. Crowley's not like anyone she's ever known before, and that's a good thing. Friendship turns to love, and eventually they even realize that, and so a life together beings to grow, in a love story that's very straightforward, and also anything but.

I recommend checking out die_traumerei's ao3 as they have a bunch of ineffable wives in which one of them is trans!

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable wives #trans crowley #trans aziraphale #human au #mod d

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facewithoutheart · 2 days ago

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Five plus One, fic recs

A post is going around about fics you consider classics in the Snowbaz fandom. I’d like to take it a step further by asking …

What are five fics you consider your inspiration/influences for writing, plus one of your fics which you think best represents what you want to bring to the fandom?

5. Hang the Moon by @captain-aralias

@captain-aralias is, to me, the snowbaz fandom fic writer of our time. Her commitment to detail, to nailing Rainbow’s voice, while infusing every fic with a heart and purpose that will leave you changed. Every fic of hers is chef’s-kiss-perfection but I’m highlighting Hang the Moon specifically as a fic I often think about (Baz, wet tennis clothes, helping Simon fight the merwolves), and a fic that was my introduction to what fanfics could be/do. I think I finished this fic and just stared at the wall for an hour because I was just like, oh. Oh.

4. The Pitch by basic-bathsheba

Local Hero is one of my favorite fanfics but I wanted to highlight this fic because it’s just such a powerful and understated story. It’s love in the details. This Simon is the model for all of my Simon’s, just a complete simp for Baz haha but also a man who is comfortable and confident being the man who loves Baz even if he doesn’t get to claim it publicly.

3. Stay Up With Me by @sharkmartini

Not sure what to say about this that hasn’t been said a million times. It’ll break your heart; it’ll put you back together. The concept is brilliant and the exploration of two Simon’s will definitely put your emotions through a wringer. Time travel/what-if fics will always grab my attention but this one in particular makes the same case Rainbow posed in Carry On: what if the villain isn’t the villain? And takes it a step further, because Simon realizes he could be the villain, too. Absolutely beautiful.

2. Can’t Find My Way Home by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz

This is one of those fics that just has so much heart and sweetness. I love a good second chance AU, and this one has such Hallmark vibes in the best way. I just love the slow burn of it, and the amazing ending. A perfect holiday fic to snuggle up with. Reading this feels like being cozy up by the fire with someone you love. Actually writing this makes me wanna reread this so much; now that I live with actual Fall I wanna feel cozy like this again.

1. Basil Pitch’s Diary by @bookish-bogwitch

I know it’s a bit weird to rec a WIP as an influence, especially one that’s being written as we speak, but working with/beta-ing Em’s works have made me a sharper, smarter writer. I know this fic is a classic in the works and it’s something I think about on a weekly basis. The Baz Em gives us, to me, feels like canon Baz taken to the next level. What if Baz was the villain … but only to himself? Em’s writing really is just economical in the best way; every line hits, every paragraph teaches me something. And then the heart. It’s genuinely so hard to do what she does and I’m so lucky to get to see her work in realtime.

+1 This Will All Go Down In Flames

I think, at the end of my fandom career, I want this to be the snowbaz fic people associate with me (Spadey being a close second hahaha). But I do feel like it’s got a lot of fandom in-jokes, humor, and sweetness, plus the fun high-stakes of them being in the spotlight. I got to celebrate the Austin I love and miss, as well as poke fun at my own hipster upbringing. I put a lot of Me™ in this fic and it always feels so lovely when people like it. Besides, I got to work with the amazing @tea-brigade and their art just takes this fic to the next level. A dream collab.

(Throwing in the caveat that I started reading long before I got an ao3 account so it’s very likely I’ve missed some amazing fics from before 2021; I’m so sorry!)

Tagging everyone listed above and six more peeps to start: @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon & @aristocratic-otter

#fic recs #snowbaz #tag game #the simon snow series

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 12 hours ago

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@zepskies

Honestly, your comments always make my day too sweetie 🥰

Totally agree on that's what makes him compelling to write for lol. Because it's such a unique challenge -- how do you create those softer moments for him, and/or character development, but still keep him "as himself." 😅 You did a really great job of it in this chapter, especially with the added dimension of the soulmate aspect!

Thank you!😊 I think it's going to be a lot of fun toeing that line in this series, because I think it's going to be even harder for him to act the way he always does when the reader is literally the other half of his soul. And really vice versa for the reader. She's seen all the things he's done and she's not sure how Ben is her other half. Basically there's gonna be a lot of drama and I love the drama lol

lmfaoo "perplexed" took me out. 🤣 The math is just really not mathing for Ben, is it?

Dude has never been good at math 😂

LOL once you put the idea in my head I could very much see it. The man is a mess. And the fact that he still goes to see her for conjugal visits. 🤣 Ben's "Just rip the bandaid off you fucking pussy" killlled me. Like sir, you'll understand his problem once you actually MEET your soulmate.

LMFAO 🤣

Tbh Bee Movie is more of an "experience" lol. It's basically just Jerry Seinfeld having a fever dream where he's a bee and that bee is in love with a woman. And like most animated movies there are a ton of jokes in there that hit very differently when you're an adult 😳. And most of the time you watch it and cringe at the events that take place and over the dialogue, and constantly ask "who approved this?" 😂

Omg pls, don't break me. 🤣🤣 I'll have to steel myself when that comes. I can only imagine how Ben is going to unintentionally fuck things up.

Girl, it's rough lol 😭😅

Each time I start writing something I think "oh I'll make this super soft and fluffy and cute and everyone who reads it will be happy," and then the writer goblin that lives in my head says " No. Make it more dramatic and angsty." 😭

Chapter 2: I'll Never Let You Go Again Like I Did

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Little bit sad, DENIAL, Homophobic Comments (Soldier Boy), Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of using drugs, Sexism, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of torture (Soldier Boy's Time in Russia) Loneliness, Longing (I mean… as close as Soldier Boy can get to it), Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.4K

Song Inspiration For This Chapter: Until I Found You (chapter title is lyric from this song) and Coming Back For You

Note: Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

Playlist for Series (Spotify)

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: Oh my goodness I'm so excited about this series and thank you so much to everyone for all the wonderful love and support so far! It really means the world to me 🥰

One Year Ago: Ben POV

Ben squinted his eyes as he stepped out into the brilliant sunshine of the early morning, shouldering the strap of his worn backpack with a huff. The people on the crowded, gum covered sidewalks shot him odd looks and gave him a wide birth as he made his way down the path, but he didn't care, in fact he didn't notice them. His mind was somewhere else.

He wasn't sure where he was going, just that something in the pit of his stomach was pointing him in this direction. Ben had started walking in what he thought was the way to Legend's apartment, but the streets looked so different than the last time he was in New York and he was a little turned around, but he wasn't going to admit that to anyone.

And there was something in the pit of his stomach, some instinct or gut feeling, that was telling him he needed to go this way.

It was an odd feeling that prickled on the back of his neck, as if he'd forgotten something. Ben wondered what exactly it was that he'd forgotten. He hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone other than the scientists who kept him locked in a cage so he didn’t exactly have a social calendar to follow up on.

I've been locked in a lab for forty fucking years, what is there to forget?

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed just out of reach.

Ben raised his eyes from the sidewalk with a sigh to look at the people passing by, taking in their new clothing and different hairstyles to distract himself. He frowned at the bizarre groups of people to him that flit by on their merry way, muttering little things under his breath about how things used to be.

Ben had a feeling that he was going to be doing that a lot.

New York City was different, the same, but different. Even though Ben had been gone for forty years, it still felt like the center of the universe. There were still hot dog vendors on every street corner, still magazine stands with freshly printed newspapers that smelled like ink and were warm to the touch, still coffee shops that lined the streets and caffeinated the masses, and there were still cab drivers who wove through traffic as if they were unstoppable shouting at pedestrians as they went.

The memories he had of old New York City merged together with what he was seeing around him and felt himself slipping into the past only to be jolted back into reality by the strangeness of the future.

He didn't like feeling disoriented, but it was there, brimming just under the surface. His body was tense as he walked prepared for anything, unable to relax as he continued on his way to wherever the hell it was he was going.

The morning sunlight reflected off the glass windows of the skyscrapers that worshiped the rising sun and the sounds of the city vibrated against the brick and mortar. There was a buzz of electricity in the air, the low hum of power that Ben could always hear beneath it all. Cars honked sharply, people shouted in colorful language to one another, and the wind rustled through the long strands of Ben's hair crinkling against his ears and scratching against his neck.

He hadn't had time to cut it or his beard and it didn't seem to be as important as finding Legend and getting his affairs in order.

The smell of hotdogs, earth, cologne, and heavy perfume wafted up with the breeze that tugged and pulled at his sweatsuit. The same stained sweatsuit he had found in a rust covered locker before hiding in the cargo hold of a plane headed back to the U.S that was probably almost as old as him. The plane ride had been long, but when he'd been in a lab for the past forty years it seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. He spent the whole time stewing in his thoughts. He'd slept enough and like hell he was going to drift off and let those Russian fucks take him again.

Ben sighed when he felt his memories begin to unravel on the edge of his mind, unfurling and asking to be relived. It wasn't unusual or unwelcome. Ben was using those memories to justify what he was going to do to his old team. As long as the rage continued to burn against his skin, Ben would have no problem breaking each of them down piece by piece.

Ben didn't understand how his team could have done that to him or why they'd done it to him. He thought that he'd been a good leader, a good American, a good soldier, a good hero, and yet they'd all stabbed him in the back. Sure, maybe he'd been a little rough on them, but Ben saw it as the only way to toughen them up. They needed thicker skin if they were going to survive in a world like this.

All I've done is give my fucking life to this country and what did they do? They gave me to the fucking reds.

His hand tightens on the strap of his backpack as he weaves through the crowds, trying his best to keep to himself when all he can feel is his anger and frustration building and burning hot under his rib cage. His new power stirred beneath the surface, energy beginning to travel through his body, tracing his veins and pulsing in the center of his chest.

I should have seen it coming. I should have killed that entire fucking bunch of pussies the second I had the chance. Especially that bitch.

His frowned at the thought of Countess.

Truthfully, when the two of them started messing around it was only because Countess's soulmate had died a few years before and Ben knew he wasn't going to meet his soon if anytime. He'd messed around with plenty of other women for the same reason and well…

Ben's frown deepened as he stepped around a couple that was walking arm and arm, the dates on their wrists flashing gold in the sunlight. He ignores the feeling that comes when he sees them, pushes it down into the deep recesses of his mind as he has done his whole life.

Since he was a kid, Ben wasn't sure that he believed the "soulmate thing." Sure he'd seen hundreds of other people around him find "the one," but Ben wasn't sure that he was made to be a soulmate. Especially not with a birthdate on his wrist so far in the future. He assumed that it meant he wasn't going to get a soulmate and he'd spent the better part of his life pretending that he didn't care about that. He was a man after all, and Ben didn't want to need anyone. At least, that was what he told himself.

Ben had lived long enough to see other soulmates find one another, witnessed the goofy looks on their faces when they locked eyes for the first time, and had the super hearing to listen to what came next.

But instead of focusing on the impossibility to meeting his own, Ben focused on the lie he told himself, that it seemed ridiculous to be intertwined with someone as soon as he was born. Not to mention that Ben wasn't sure that he wanted to be with someone, not when he didn't age and not when he'd have to watch whoever it was, if anyone turn to dust.

Yes, he could see himself settling down with someone, having a few kids, but Ben wasn't sure that whoever was supposed to be his other half was within reach anyway so why care? Ben knew that he didn't age, but he didn't actually think he'd ever get to meet you or that you would actually ever exist. Not when you were born so far away from him and not when he'd been trapped in that lab.

But that didn't stop a part of him from thinking about the possibility of meeting you. When things were quiet in the lab and he was left alone for a few precious moments, he felt his mind begin to slip into the question of what if?

What if you existed and what if you came for him?

He knew that it was a long shot. The only people that knew he was there were the people who stabbed him in the back. And Ben didn't want to cling to some fantasy, it felt feminine to fanaticize about the person who was supposedly meant for him breaking down the thick metal door and pulling him from the lab.

Again, Ben was trying not to believe in the "soulmate bullshit."

Countess had been a way of passing the time as had the numerous other women, but with them were moments when he'd feel something odd settle in his chest, something that he never could put a name to. In those moments he would raise his right arm and look at the birthdate printed on his wrist, the same one that Ben had kept hidden for most of his life, the one that when he was a boy people mocked him for, and the one his father chastised him for having as if it was Ben's fault that some celestial body had decided to single him out.

All of his childhood friends had found their soulmates and Ben had spent the better part of his life covering it up to avoid the conversation that always happened when someone saw the date. No ones soulmate was born so far in the future and Ben’s father had spent a lot of money making sure that word didn’t get out his son was a freak.

His father already made Ben feel like a disappointment and a fuck-up, but Ben was already thinking it himself every time he looked at the date printed on his wrist that seemed impossible. When his mother was alive she would try her best to make Ben feel better telling him that it wasn't impossible, that one day it would all make sense, but after her death Ben stopped feeling comfort, joy, and anything warm. All he felt was the cold shoulder from his father and the words that Ben pretended didn't hurt when his father was halfway through his second bottle of scotch with a third prepped and waiting on the kitchen table.

It made Ben feel like a pussy every time he looked at the mark and thought about his future soulmate, but he did it in private, usually after he'd had a few glasses of something and a few puffs or snuffs of something else to numb his mind. And he'd allow himself a single moment to think of you, wonder if he'd ever meet you, and wondered if you'd ever actually exist. In those few fleeting moments he believed in soulmates, but then he'd snap out of it and wake up the woman in bed next to him to distract him for another hour or so.

Ben's eyes flick to his right wrist covered by the gray and maroon tracksuit, his brow furrowing together. He was trying not to think about you or rather the possibility of you today. He didn't have time for that, not when all he wanted was to make his old team pay for everything they did to him.

But there was a little whisper of something in his ear, a small wisp of hope that he had finally made it to you, the one thing he didn’t think would ever happen, that he lived long enough to be alive the same year you were, and that you were out there somewhere waiting for him.

No. Ben tenses. I'm not going to think about her, not when those butt fucks need to be dealt with. I'm going to go to Legend's and then I'm going to-

He didn't see you in front of him until it was too late to move out of the way. Your body hits his full on in the chest, sending the bagel between your lips tumbling into the street, but Ben barely feels the hit, what he does feel is the dam he built forever ago burst open and warmth soaks into his body. Electricity skitters along his skin, crackling in the air as his eyes lock with yours only for a second. He feels like he's caught fire, as if the pieces of himself deep down inside are overheating and vibrating until there's nothing left, but you and him.

Any thoughts he had of his team and revenge are lost in the flood of emotions that fill the hole inside he tried so hard to ignore with the lie he continued to tell himself: “I don't believe in soulmates.”

And yet, there you were.

He can hear his heart and yours beating together as one, his own pounding so hard under his ribcage as if it wishes to break free and cross the space between your bodies. Seeing you for the first time feels like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp jolt backwards when it lands and the pinch of flesh against Kevlar. It was worth the bruise if looking at you was the same way each time.

Ben can feel the world slipping away, going silent, and in that silence Ben is lost in you.

Holy Fuck.

You were the perfect amalgamation of every single beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen and fantasized about in his entire life. And yet you weren't what he was expecting. Over the years Ben had bedded many women, the ones who captured his attention for a night, but none of them were anything like you.

In all the ways those women were bold and dramatic you were confident, but not boisterous, beautiful but not haughty, respectful but not prude, and there was a kindness reflected in the warmth of your eyes that Ben had never seen before, but there it was staring back at him unblinkingly.

You reminded him of the women that came arm in arm with men to his parents lavish parties when he was a boy, the ones who were classically beautiful and reserved with the golden dates on their wrists catching in the light. The exact kind of woman he hadn’t seen for the better part of eighty years and the opposite of the women who had thrown themselves at his feet forty years ago.

Your hair falls forward into your face from the force of your body hitting his and Ben itches to push it back, to touch you, to feel his skin against yours to quench the burning that he can feel in his soul.

All of his instincts are telling him to pull you against him, that you're too far away even though you're standing only inches apart. That he needs to breathe the same air and feel the warmth of your skin against his rough fingertips.

The birthmark on his right wrist sears his skin and he knows what it means, that you're the woman he's been looking for his whole life, the woman that always seemed just out of his grasp, the woman that was made just for him, and the woman he thought would never exist.

He watches your eyes widen with the same realization about him behind your round glasses, eyes that are the perfect color and eyes that Ben can imagine staring in to every day for the rest of his life. He'd never wanted to spend more than one night with a woman, never wanted more, but all of that fades into you.

The idea of a soulmate no longer seems ridiculous, no longer seems like something he’d never have, not when he’s looking into your eyes and nothing else seems to matter.

Not when looking at you is like seeing the sun sink into the earth at the end of the day and feeling the hope that it'll rise the next morning.

The lie he told himself for so long is slipping away the longer he stares at you, because although he never wanted to want anyone he knows that he needs you. It's an odd feeling for him. He's never once cared about anyone, told himself that it was weak to, that having a soulmate was a stupid idea and not for him, but all of the things he ever thought about soulmates is evaporating in the heat that is consuming his body by being in your presence.

Why now?

The thought makes the world come back into sharper focus.

I've lived decades without her and now the moment I come back to the U.S I just run into her?

It was laughable .

The moment of clarity allows the fantasies of his revenge to come creeping in and Ben feels the anger and rage ebbing on the edge of the wonderful feeling building in his chest when he looks at you.

You weren't a supe. Ben could tell that just by looking at you. He didn't think he'd ever seen someone so soft and yet someone that he wanted to possess so badly that it almost hurt to stand inches away from you.

I don't want her to be apart of this.

The thought is immediate, stirring some primal urge within to protect what's his. Because you were his. You were the missing piece that he pretended not to need and the woman who always seemed to slip into his mind when he was alone and all was quiet,.

The thoughts of what he's about to do to his teammates come surging up and he didn't want you involved in any of that. Not when he knew that he needed to protect you, that he'd drag you along, and you'd see all the ugly parts of him and see the horror of what he was about to do.

He didn't want that for you, he didn’t want the first time that he met you to be like this, him looking like he'd crawled out from under a rock and full of so much anger, rage, and frustration it felt like he was going to explode, him having a new uncontrollable power that meant he might hurt you, and him being unable to give you his full attention when all he could think about was the team that stabbed him in the back.

What he was, was selfish, he knew that about himself.

But I won't be this selfish.

Ben had made many mistakes his life, he knew that, had done some things that he wasn't proud of, but you wouldn’t be one of them. He didn't want to put you in danger and realized that there was only one way to protect you, because after all, he was the only one who knew that you existed.

His eyes trace your face one more time, memorizing it before he does what he thinks is right. Ben turns away from you and forces himself to keep walking. Each cell in his body is screaming at him to turn around, to run back to you, but he can't. He doesn't want it to be like this and he knows that you deserve better.

I won't do this to her.

“Wait-“ He hears you shout over the sounds of the street.

The sound of your voice is a soothing melody, a warm soak in a hot bath, a steady hand against his back, and a salve over the gaping hole where a piece of him was missing for so long, the hole that he tried to ignore his whole life. He grits his teeth and continues to walk away from you, each step feeling like he's walking through tar the further he gets.

And deep down Ben is hoping that he did the right thing and makes a promise that he'll come back for you.

Present Day Ben POV

Why the fuck am I coming to this thing again?

Ben thought to himself standing outside the closed apartment door holding an expensive bottle of scotch. The same bottle of scotch that he was going to break open as soon as he crossed the threshold to get through this. He didn’t think that Hughie would appreciate it the way he would anyway.

Probably drinks those fucking fruity drinks with the umbrellas.

Ben didn’t understand why Hughie had invited him to this party or why Annie would let him invite Ben to it. Ben knew how much she hated him and the feeling was mutual.

Ben sighs as he stares at the door thinking about walking back to the elevator.

Invited was a strong word. Ben had overheard Hughie talking about it in the break room with MM and when Ben walked in, Hughie felt the need to fill the awkward silence by inviting Ben to the housewarming party.

Ben didn't know why anyone needed a housewarming party, but he chocked it up to another thing about the 21st century that he didn't quite understand.

He thought about all the people inside that he saw at work everyday, the ones that he tried to avoid all shoved in the apartment in front of him and groaned to himself.

Fuck, I should just go home.

Ben frowned at the thought of going back to his extravagant penthouse apartment downtown. The one that was two stories with a private balcony, six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a study, a media room, an exercise room, and overlooked Central Park with a view that would make anyone else salivate. His real estate agent had been surprised when Ben hadn't batted an eye at the price, but Ben didn't think about money the same way everyone else did.

He didn't have to, not with the money he'd earned over the years and not with the money his father, grandfather, and great grandfather in his accounts.

When he'd first bought the apartment he had been happy to get out from under Butcher's eye, who had a tendency to watch Ben like a hawk whenever he thought that Ben wasn't paying attention. But the apartment was large and cold, furnished with furniture that Ben had hired some twenty year old interior designer to buy, who charged him an outrageous amount of money to do absolutely nothing. She'd called it "minimalism," Ben called it "a fucking rip off."

Not one piece of furniture was comfortable to him and being there never felt like home. Then again, Ben didn't have a "home" to compare it to. His family mansion back in Philadelphia after his mother died had been cold and most of the rooms were closed off and the apartment he had in New York before he went to Russia was almost as big as his new one, but it never seemed like home. It always seemed like a way station, a place for Ben to entertain women for a short while before he went to a commercial shoot, a party, or on location for a film.

Even his cleaning lady and housekeeper would comment on the little things about his apartment that Ben tried to ignore. Honestly, Ben thought that she was fucking nosy, but she did her job well so he kept her on.

That and because he couldn't seem to remember her name no matter how many checks he wrote.

Ben didn’t like being in his apartment at all, but he knew that it wouldn't change if he moved. It wasn't where he lived that was the problem, it was that you weren't there with him.

It had been an entire year since he'd seen you and every day Ben walked the same path he had the day he met you for the first time hoping to run in to you. He didn’t have your name or your address or anything that he could have someone at work plug into a computer to find you. He'd tried to "google" you, but there was only so much he could do with the little information he had and he didn't understand how to find you other than the old fashioned way.

So he was back to sitting home alone every night trying his best not to notice how empty the apartment was, the one he bought that was more than big enough for two people. Sometimes he tried to stay out as long as he could to avoid going back to it, but each time he went through the front door it only emphasized how empty it was.

Ben's life was empty. He hadn't realized that before, but nowadays he was hyperaware of it. In the past he would have filled his life with women eager to warm his bed, but ever since he saw you Ben hadn't been able to think about anyone else.

Ben couldn't remember the last time he felt this frustrated and it only made everything harder for him. And as much as he tried to relieve the tension it never seemed like it was enough. He needed you.

And after he spent twelve months trying his best and he was tired of feeling restless he tried to pick up a woman in a bar.

Every cell in his body screamed wrong at the top of its lungs when he spoke to her, using lines that he'd perfected since he was a teenager. Ben knew he was good at that, but he fumbled the ball each time he opened his mouth. He tried to shake off the ghost of you, but when he spoke to the woman leaning against the aged wooden bar with a martini in her hand and wearing a dress that left little to the imagination, he got a flash in the corner of his eye of someone coming in through the door and he'd thought it was you.

He hadn't been expected to feel so ashamed, guilty, and embarrassed at the thought of you catching him with someone else. He'd been sleeping with women longer than you'd been alive and he'd never felt that way, but now that he knew you existed and knew there was a possibility of you running in to him, it was all different.

Ben's outlook on soulmates being "ridiculous" had evaporated on the spot the moment he locked eyes with you. He couldn't pretend that he didn't care anymore and couldn't pretend that you didn't exist.

How could he when you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen? How could he when a piece of him was with you? How could he when you were always on his mind?

He'd never had a woman have a hold on him so completely in his entire life, but you did.

She fucking does and I only saw her once.

It only made him feel worse. He wondered if he'd made the right decision when he turned his back on you.

Sometimes he liked to think back to the moment of when he first saw you when everything was quiet and he was sitting up in his bed staring down at the mark on his wrist that shone a brilliant gold. His mind would slip into those few moments of bliss and he would wonder what would have happened f he just said "fuck it" and didn't go after Payback, if he'd stopped and asked for your name, and allowed you to let him forget everything that happened in the past forty years so he could start his life with you.

Unfortunately, those moments were usually followed by the same self-deprecating thoughts that Ben had, the chauvinistic ones that he'd carried with him over the years, and the ones that his father had impressed on him from the moment he could walk and Ben couldn't seem to shake.

He'd berate himself about how it was stupid and pussy-like to pine over a woman.

Because that's what he was doing, he was pining over you and he didn't like it.

He didn't want to think of you as much as he did, but he couldn't help it. Now that Ben knew you existed he didn't want to miss out on another moment of your life.

Of course, he couldn't find you and that was the problem. Sometimes he wondered if you were looking for him as hard as he was looking for you, if you walked the same way each hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The dreams didn't make it any better. He'd never heard of someone living the memories of their soulmate when they slept, but every night he was subjected to watching your life and it only made him want to find you more.

He'd never knew that someone could feel so lonely surrounded by people, never knew that someone could feel so out of place, and never knew that someone could be as sad as you were, but each time he relieved a memory of yours at night Ben could feel his heart twinge.

Ben watched the lonely birthdays you spent with a cupcake and a beer for him, saw the jeers of the people in your hometown and the pitying looks from your parents, felt your shoulders shake when you cried alone in your room and stared at the birthdate on your wrist, and he felt you losing hope as each year passed.

Ben didn't usually allow himself to feel emotion like that, but watching you go through it all hurt him more than anything those Russian fucks did to him. He wasn't used to that and he wasn't used to thinking about other people as much as he thought about you.

But something about him felt different after meeting you.

Ben had asked Legend about soulmates, specifically the dreams, but Legend had muttered something unintelligible under his breath and took another snort of cocaine from the mirror on the coffee table instead of answering. Their relationship had been a little awkward after Ben slept with Legend's soulmate forty years ago, but Legend didn’t seem to be too upset about it… anymore. Mostly because Legend's soulmate tried to pull a Lorena Bobbitt one night and Legend caught her before any permanent damage was done.

She was in prison, and Ben didn't understand why Legend still went to see her for conjugal visits, but he figured that she was as much of a freak as his old handler.

Just rip the bandaid off you fucking pussy.

Ben thought staring at the clean white door in front of him.

Truthfully, Ben was tired. He'd been running himself harder for the last month, throwing himself into his work because he was starting to believe that he was never going to meet you again, and it seemed like work was the only thing that could distract him long enough. But he couldn't escape sleep.

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had avoided sleeping the best way he could and he got through a few days before he collapsed. The first dream he'd had of you had come on suddenly, but clear as day.

You reading on your bed in your apartment smiling down at the pages as if it the book was telling you a secret.

Ben wasn't a reader, didn't see any merit in it if it wasn't a western or a war book. The most he could tolerate was Ernest Hemingway, but he could have sat there and watched you read forever. You looked so peaceful, content, and happy that Ben was afraid to interrupt you even though it was just a dream.

But whenever he thought about you dreaming his memories, something dark settled in the back of his mind, because what were you seeing? He'd done a few things he wasn't proud of and Ben didn't want you to think that he wasn't a hero or that he was a bad guy.

Ben sighs and raises his hand to knock hard against the door with his free hand, trying not to open the bottle preemptively before entering the apartment.

"Ben?" Hughie says it like a question when he opens the door, eyes wide with the same stupid look on his face that always grates on Ben.

Ben forces his signature tight lipped smile that he flashes around the office. "Hey there sport."

"Hey. Wow, you're here." Hughie clears his throat and looks over his shoulder as if he's nervous about something.

Ben raises an eyebrow. "I was invited."

"Well yes but-"

"But?"

"Um-"

"Spit it out dipstick."

Hughie clears his throat. "I didn't think you would come."

Fuck I should have stayed home. He doesn't want me here, neither does his fucking beard.

Ben frowns listening to where Annie groans under her breath further inside the apartment and talks low under her breath to someone that Ben can't see.

"Well surprise and congratulations or whatever." Ben rolls his eyes holding out the bottle of scotch. He was hesitant to lose sight of it, not when talking to Hughie for less than five minutes made him want to down the whole bottle.

"Oh wow this is really," Hughie's eyes widen as he takes in the label and realize how much money Ben spent on the bottle. "Expensive stuff, thanks Ben."

"It'll put some hair on your chest." Ben claps Hughie hard on the shoulder as he pushes past him into the foyer of the apartment.

The entire apartment could have fit in Ben's living room and kitchen. It was made in a similar fashion to his, sleek white walls, sterling silver appliances, large glass windows that let in the light-

Ben stops so suddenly inside the area that leads into the kitchen that Hughie plows into his back, but Ben doesn't feel it.

He can't move, can't breathe, because he's noticed the person talking to Annie is you. This was the last place that he'd expected you to be, but he doesn't care, because you're here and you're more beautiful than he remembers.

You're standing there pouring ice from a large bag into a pink acrylic bucket with an adorable amount of concentration for such a simple task wearing the same sweater you were the day he first saw you. You're also wearing a little more makeup and your hair is longer, and not pulled back into the messy bun as it was that day, but you’re still you and you’re here.

His fingers twitch with the urge to run his hands through the tangled tresses, to feel if they're as soft as he imagined for so long.

Ben's body swells with emotion, goosebumps flicker over his skin, and all other sounds in the room vanish, because seeing you was like watching the sun rise and feeling the world hold it's breath as it basks in the early morning rays.

And Ben wanted to bask in everything you were, every day for the rest of his life. Now that he found you again he wasn't going to let you out of his sight.

Your soul sings to him as he nears you, the cells in his body vibrating so fast that he can feel every single one begging him to touch you.

You turn into him by accident, sending the bag of ice tumbling to the floor, but feeling your body against his sends him into overdrive and he can't hold back anymore. He reaches out to grab your shoulder as gently as he can without hurting you.

Hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. And because you weren’t a supe he knew how fragile you were.

You gasp under your breath at the contact from his hand, but to Ben it sounds thunderous in his ears. Ben trails his hand across your shoulder, up your neck, to cup your chin and raise your face to look at him. He feels like his whole body is igniting as he makes contact with your skin.

He can feel an odd vibration in his chest as he does so, energy crackling and pulsing around the two of you, but the rest of the room falls silent. He can’t look away from you, not when seeing you again is like staring too long at the sun and he's left with the imprint of your light and beauty on the inside of his eyelids.

Ben can't focus on anything else, doesn’t hear the awkward chatter, doesn't feel the discomfort he had upon his arrival, doesn't notice the way everyone has turned to stare at the two of you, and doesn't feel the air conditioning turn on and blow cool air against his warm freckled skin.

All he knows is you.

Your eyes are wide and he suspects his are as well, pupils blown but still beautiful and hypnotic as they were one year ago. Ben feels a smile pulling at his lips and he lets it go, because standing in front of you, feeling like this, it’s impossible to do much else.

Your skin is warm to the touch beneath the roughness of his fingertips and he touches you with a reverence that he has never graced anyone else with, because you were his. Every part of you was made for him just as every part of him was made for you.

The your soul was calling out to him, weaving a golden cord of energy in his mind that snagged in the center of his chest and made him feel whole for the first time in life.

You reach out to touch him, the soft palm of your hand falling just over his heart and it makes something inside him break open to flood the space between the two of you.

Hope stirs in his chest with your gentle touch and your unblinking gaze, warmth trailing from where your hand lays against his shirt. His eyes drop to the wrist to see his birthdate, a glowing ember against your skin where the sleeve of your sweater has fallen down an inch.

Your eyes lock with his once more, full lips slightly parted, and breathless.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." Ben murmurs, trailing his thumb across your cheek with a gentleness that he's never possessed.

Ben was not a gentle man, but for you he would try. He would be anything you wished him to be, for as long as he lived, because now that he found you, he was never going to let you go.

And he welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to stand in his way.

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always welcome and appreciated! I really love hearing what y'all think. ❤️ If you'd liked to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know :)

Taglist:

@reidtomewinchester @livya99 @pascal-rascal424 @xaviersgifted @zepskies

@bagpussjocken @bitchykittenconnoisseur @kamisobsessed @goldenmaknaes @ophennie

@infinityonhighhhhh @modiddys-blog @globetrotter28 @roseblue373 @tulipsvanilla

@annoyingrebelsoul @soldiergrimes @megara0224 @zpandaqueen @ladykitana90

@corruptedcruiser @podiumackles @criminalyetminimal

@deangirl96 @kr804573 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn

@52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

@bookchik26 @anna6307

#lovelyreaders

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lyrarizi · 8 hours ago

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THIS POST CONTAINS DISCUSSION ABOUT HAZBIN HOTEL LEAKS

i sadly saw the leaks of hazbin s2 and now a whole plotpoint is ruined for me, i can make sure if you are still saved from seeing them, this is my advice just take a couple days of social media ESPECIALLY of tiktok and wait until the leaks are removed from platforms because they are HEAVY leaks they arent just some simple conversations

how i found out is a gacha reaction video on youtube without ANY spoiler warnings, just dont watch upcoming reaction vids if you consume them people WILL take profit and make reactions, under the cut is the exact name of the video but im not going to type that here since its kinda on the nose and will give you a huge idea of what the leak is about

ALSO: i said under the cut that comments are a safe space to talk and discuss about the spoiler so do NOT look at them since they will showcase spoiler, so to make it clear hopefully

DO NOT LOOK IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU WANT TO STAY SPOILER FREE PLEASE <3

under the cut is discussion about one of the leaks so if you want to stay spoiler free i beg you do not read further

so about that leak..

i do not like it one bit, i am praying to god its fake because it is such a weird choice

because as we see in the leak rosie owns alastor's soul, that is heavily implied, and i myself do not like this choice

we can clearly see alastor does not like rosie and rosie only sees him as a pet and calls him so, this just ruins their whole dynamic for me

alastor and rosie seemed genuine friends and loved to spend time with one nother they were really cute, i thought alastor finally had somone he could lean on

so this

is all fake, all of alastor's moments that we thought were rare moments of his real joy, are fake.

rosie being happy that her best friend has returned from his 7 years disappearance to who knows where?

fake, she's just happy her pet is home to clean up her dirty work..

this also puts into perspective that alastor really does not have any real friends, niffty still always is on his leash so there is a power imbalance, husker probably hates him, vox hates him too and when they were friends i think alastor only was there for the entertainment or he saw him not as a friend anymore as soon as vox confessed

but i really do not like this.

i saw those two as a genuine friendship, married for tax benefits, queerplatonic, best friends for life, even lovers,

not as master/pet

they were cute together, alastor finally had someone he could trust and rosie had someone she could hangout with, gossiping together, rosie enables alastor and alastor enables rosie, maybe they were a bit transactional but you could clearly see they cared about eachother

in the leak we see a total different dynamic, alastor hates rosie and plays along with her, rosie takes delight in alastor's suffering and degrades him like calling him "pet" puts him in cages, uses him as a doll

this is the video i looked at:

im not shaming them this is just the internet but this clearly shows the leak without any sort of warning on the title, cover, or even in the description, i knew nothing about alastor's deal leaks so i had no idea this one would show leaks

as far as i know this the only gacha reaction up to this point where they react to leaks

but now, while i have been writing this post i have been thinking about it.

this is a fun twist i can say, nobody was seeing this coming this is an actual surprise

i can accept and deal with the fact that rosie is alastor's soulowner and maybe still find enjoyment in it, i mean i always love to see alastor suffer and him having 0 real friends is pretty funny (AND SAD)

but if you want to talk about the leaks here in the comments is a safe space to discuss, i can understand you would like to talk with someone about this revelation so come say hi in the comments if you want :D

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel season 2 #hazbin hotel season 2 spoilers #hazbin hotel leaks #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel season 2 leaks #alastor #rosie #rosie hazbin hotel #radiorose

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 days ago

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Hi I finally took the time to read jessie lies wetly and I’m Obsessed, I love a protagonist who’s just an absolute fuck-up and I also love explorations of superhero/supervillain archetypes as like. Actual people in the contemporary world, if that makes sense? Like, the detail about Night Noir having a patreon tickled me to no end. Looking forward to reading more!

aaaaaah wow thank you!! I rlly love everyone who loves Jessie being an absolute garbage fire of a woman, she's so dear to me and so so much fun to write!

and yeah Noir having a patreon, and specifically Jessie being one of her patron because she had a big stupid crush, was SUCH a fun idea when it hit me. I really like this idea of having costumed villains who operate at extremely different tiers, for lack of a better word. there are definitely some big bad types out there in this world who have evil space stations and death rays and stuff, but Noir is extremely street level and I thought it would be so fun to see smalltime villains supporting themselves with a social media following.

there will HOPEFULLY be more so soon, I'm so so so so close to finishing chapter 11 and that means I can edit up and post chapter 5. great news: as of 11 Jessie is still a flaming hot disaster >:3

#jessie lies wetly

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factorialsotherfandoms · 2 days ago

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Okay, here are my rambling list of a few things I love about the EdM demo, plus you know some little things. I am a puzzle game and rpg game sort, less so horror and definitely not action. Real time combat even extremely simplified is hard for me, so look elsewhere for that.

I really love that the puzzles have clues in multiple places. Once you get to an actual puzzle you do have to poke around multiple locations and slot all of the clues together. My favourite puzzle games all need a notebook and pen, and this demo alone I used half an envelope.

Sneak attack that actually works my beloved?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I foresee myself using that trick a lot

Mia, Samuel, and Agatha have a really fun dynamic and I'm genuinely excited to see more of them.

Mia is a lovely protagonist. Did you know she has Monophobia/Autophobia severe enough that Lupi is her service dog? That is, a fear of being alone, isolated, abandoned, etc. Which I am sure will combine "amazingly" with the fact her Dad has vanished.

Fun fact! Agatha is also disabled. I won't say how or why, but it's referenced pretty early on. She's also a lesbian with a complex relationship to gender, which I hate being a way I'm trying to sell a game but I know how tumblr works. Anyway I adore her and have for a while. All 3 of the main group are established Ordem NPCs, but Agatha is the only one with a particularly regular and strong presence.

I don't have much to say on Samuel. Anything I could say is massive Ordem Paranormal spoilers, and so far in EdM he's mostly just your hints guy. Give him some love though.

Puzzles!!! Puzzles [chomp]

Soundtrack my beloved, it works extremely well with the game

The plot pieces we have been given are... I am brewing. Not cooking, more bent over a cauldron with herbs and eyes in jars and nonsense, you know? I am a witch making potions not a baker making a cake. But yes I have IDEAS which I will not share here because shhh. And also evidence to an idea I had *before* the demo came out which is cackling.

Cuuuuute

I love how much personality is in the environments, and the feel you get for the characters via it.

Can I please give love to puzzles? It's very very much a different vibe and game to my beloved Botany Manor (someone PLEASE give me an excuse to open it up again and write about it), but there are some similarities in how at least the demo puzzles work. All I need now is for it to start giving me charts, tables, and diagrams I need to make copies of and constantly refer to <3 I am puzzle person, not horror person. It's a thing.

Anyway you have a day left for the Demo, please give it a try if you're not sure. It's a free demo. Even if you hate it, well, all you lost is a bit of time?

#enigma do medo #edm #enigma of fear #i'd say being a man i imagine fandom will ignore mia for samuel #but he's black so they'll probably ignore all three for verissimo #which... i already see happening #which is a shame because all of them are wonderful #these are just a few rambly thoughts while I'm supposed to be doing things oops

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kainuhsblog · 2 days ago

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Mr. Choi from 2A • Jiung Choi

prompt More Than Words Elementary gets the surprise of a lifetime when the kids figure out that the two kindest teachers for 4th and 5th grade are married. pairing teacher!jiung x fem!reader genre school teachers, established relationship, fluff warnings mentions of food, playful banter, school word count 3,796 (this story wrote itself) a/n hi! i'm back! I have something written this time! jiung is my ultimate bias, so i’ve been itching to write something for him. please note that this fic will be told in 3rd pov, but kind of centric to none of the main characters, but to one of jiung’s students, emma!

want more piwon posts from me? check out my fake texts here and here!

There are many things in the world that Emma loves. Her parents, for one – obviously. They spoil her endlessly, and even gave her a little brother, so she loves them.

Emma also loves trucks. She loves them simply because her dad always lifts her up to get in the thing. He even has to do a little stretch to get in himself. Big trucks that make even her dad seem small are always fun.

Third on the list – not that it has a particular order – will have to go to the bakery near her house. Ms. Lim makes the best cupcakes known to man, and her mom loves them just as much as she does, so they like to splurge on them every once in a while.

Fourth; the quaint burger place lodged in an alleyway on that busy street Emma always forgets the name of. Every once in a while, her mom and dad take her (and her little brother, now) to the place, and she always manages to see her uncle manning the bar. She wonders if he works there.

And last, but certainly not least; her 4th grade teacher Mr. Choi. Mr. Choi never enters the room without a fond smile on his face as he greets the class in the morning. He never lets them leave without some words of praise when they leave the class in the afternoon.

Mr. Choi is very attentive, explaining things a million times over for everyone to understand (who knew there were different methods to learning how to multiply big numbers?) and is very interactive with his class. Mr. Choi is probably the kindest person Emma knows.

If someone were to come up to her and shove a microphone and a camera in her face (because people do that now) and ask her who she thought the kindest person in the world was, her first answer would definitely be Mr. Choi. That’s just how good he is.

Anyways, before the author starts her spiel on the guy, let’s get into the actual story – shall we?

The list of things that Emma loves in this world differ depending on what day you ask her. Her constants will always be her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, and Mr. Choi from class 2A.

Lately though, Emma thinks that a new constant might add to her list of things she loves in this world. The thought came to her mind halfway through the previous semester.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

At the beginning of her first semester in fourth grade, a new teacher for fifth grade arrived in bubbly fashion. With beautiful kind eyes and a charming smile; the new teacher tumbled her way into the lives of everyone at More Than Words Elementary School.

Emma was one of the people who only entertained things within her bubble. As a bubble dweller, the only things she knew dwelled in her bubble with her. She didn’t know anything about new staff or teachers unless someone entered her bubble to tell her. Which is how she found out about the new teacher in the first place.

She had many friends within the school who greeted her in the mornings, and her cousin Shelby was friends with her next door neighbor Tommy. Those two always brought her the gossip from their fifth grade circle.

They were all hanging out on the playground for recess when Shelby mentioned it to Emma. Something along the lines of the nicest teacher ever just came to their school or something. Emma excused Shelby’s comments because the elder didn’t have Mr. Choi in fourth grade.

Tommy described the woman like she hung the stars in the sky every single night for him to look at and ponder her. Shelby told him to write a book if he wanted to be that sappy. Emma laughed even if she didn’t get the reference all too well.

For the rest of that week, the new teacher was all her fifth grade friends seemed to want to talk about. She stopped listening to them halfway through. Mr. Choi was the nicest teacher ever, so she wanted to see his competition with her own two eyes.

If someone was listening to her thoughts, then they made quick plans, because the next day called for a multitude of rain and the absence of half of the students in her small school. Emma still went to school because her mom and dad had jobs to go to despite the rain, and her grandma was out of the country so no one her parents trusted could watch their kids.

She walked happily to her class, thinking of the pastries she would smell in the afternoon (as it was the day her and her mom went to the bakery) when she spotted a beautiful woman standing outside her class door talking to Mr. Choi. Her smile stretched like the sun on the horizon as it rose in the morning. A warmth like no other had hit Emma the moment she saw it.

Emma slowed her pace as she neared the classroom, and she heard the familiar words of reassurance from her teacher to the lady in front of him to ease her worries about whatever she stressed about. The kind words sounded a bit different in Emma’s ears though.

Emma greeted the adults like she was taught, and both Mr. Choi and the teacher greeted her with similar waves of kindness. The other teacher even knew her name. Why would the other teacher know her name?

Emma tilted her head in confusion and stood before the two teachers. The lady laughed and nudged Mr. Choi to get him to notice. Then, the teacher moved her left hand from the books she clung so tightly to her chest and extended it to the little girl before her.

“Hi Emma Kang, I’m the new fifth grade teacher Ms. (last name). It’s very nice to meet you!” The teacher introduced, and the shock couldn’t come fast enough as it morphed Emma’s face.

The lady before her was the kind teacher Shelby and Tommy told her about. Emma shook Ms. (last name)’s hand, feeling the familiar weight of an engagement band (her aunt Nina had just gotten engaged last month, so she knows how it feels on someone’s hand), and told the teacher that it was nice to meet her as well.

Turns out, Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were discussing the merge of their classrooms for the day so that they can watch movies and play games. None of the other fifth grade teachers wanted to do such things with their classes, (as it was still the beginning of the semester) but Mr. Choi thought it would be fun to let his kids relax for one day.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Rainy days had now meant joint classes after the success of the first one that day, and Emma realized that she hoped for rainy days a lot more, so that she can see Ms. (last name) again and again and again. This was when she thought of the possibility of a new constant on her list.

Emma thinks that Ms. (last name) felt like the sun, especially when she brightened up the classrooms. Ms. (last name) was extra involved in just about everything, and Emma found herself wanting to join a few things just to see the bubbly teacher again.

Now, you (as the reader) might be wondering where I’ll fit the synopsis into this story, and I’m getting there. Anyways, back to the story.

Emma also notices how much livelier Mr. Choi seemed to get whenever Ms. (last name) would come around their area, for rainy days or not. The two teachers seemed really close, like they were friends before working together. Well, that’s how Emma saw it. Shelby and Tommy seemed to disagree though.

The two fifth graders often talked about how they coax small bits of information out of their homeroom teacher whenever they all can’t seem to understand a particularly hard subject (which is usually math.) Ms. (last name) never got into great detail about a lot of stuff, but she always talked about her fiance with a sense of “love” and “comfort”.

Emma knew about those feelings and those words, (she’s 9 for crying out loud) but no one ever seemed to explain the concept of love to her in a way where she understood or related to it, so topics like these had her confused. When she asked what that had to do with anything, Shelby exclaimed that she had a feeling that Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple.

Emma sat there for a long while trying to see things from her cousin’s point of view. Sure, they were friendly and got along well, but a couple? They didn’t seem like a couple. She’s seen a few couples in her nine years on this earth, and her teachers don’t act as gross as those couples.

Besides, they both arrive in separate cars. From the couples Emma has seen, they usually arrive in the same car, do they not? Her mom and dad are almost always in the same vehicle. Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam never leave without each other at events. Uncle Darren and Aunt Lily only have one car. They drop Shelby to school in it everyday.

Tommy and Shelby bickered back and forth whilst Emma was left with the most confusing theory of her life.

Emma decided that day that there was no way Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. Well, that was until dinnertime, when she decided to ask the one couple she constantly has to see.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Mom, dad, can people be a couple even if they don’t hug and hold hands and kiss and arrive at places in the same car?” She asked them once her food was graced and her mom told her to dig in.

Both of her parents stopped their utensils from reaching their mouths to look at their daughter, seeing her staring back at them with a curious glint in her eyes.

“Sweetie, I think we’re gonna need more context than that.” Her mom answered.

“Your mom’s right, princess. What brought this on so suddenly?” Her dad added on.

“Well, you guys know my favorite teacher Mr. Choi right?” She started off, watching her parents put down their eating utensils to give her their undivided attention.

“Yes we do, what about him?” Her dad asked.

“And you guys know the pretty teacher I told you about a while ago? Ms. (last name)?” She inquired.

“Yes we do sweetheart.” Her mom answered, picking up her son’s spoon to help him eat his rice.

“Okay, so today at recess I mentioned to Shelby and Tommy how I thought the teachers were friends before working together because of how well they seem to just – what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Coexist?”

“No not that one … although that one is really good, thanks mom.”

“Of course!”

“Cooperate then?” Her dad chimed in, finally picking his utensil up.

“Oh yes that word! Thank you dad, you’re so smart! Anyways, yes I mentioned it to them, and then Shelby said something about how she thinks they’re a couple? So then I sat there to think about it and that doesn’t make sense? How are they a couple when they don’t kiss and hug and hold hands and go everywhere together and use the same car and have kids?” Emma rambled, getting more confused than ever as she’s explaining it to her parents.

“Maybe they don’t act that way because kids are present, princess.” Her dad supplied.

“Dad, you and mom were literally kissing in the kitchen … with me present!” Emma rebutted.

“That’s because you’re our kid. There’s a difference when it’s your own kid,” Her mom informed.

“And besides, they work together don’t they? Why act like a couple at work? That’s not very professional.” Her mom continued.

“You can’t do stuff like that at work?” Emma asked incredulously.

“No you can’t Emma.” Her dad replied.

“Wow, you learn something new everyday. What about the car thing then, they’re married and don’t come to work together? That’s so odd. You guys ride to work together all the time.” Emma questioned.

“Emma first of all, not all couples are married,” Her mom told her, ignoring the gasp of disbelief that escapes her nine year old.

“Secondly, they probably don’t even live together. Of course they’ll come to work in different cars.” Her mom continued.

Emma’s shocked beyond words, her brother Eric wasn't paying attention, just eating his food and replaying the opening for power rangers in his mind as he ignored them. Her dad’s just thinking about how all of this could’ve been avoided if they just gave her electronics and discovered the weird stuff on the internet in the first place. He pushed the thought from his mind though, his wife said no so he sticks beside her.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that couples aren’t married and don’t live together and can’t act gross and work?” Emma asked.

“Your Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam aren’t married, and they’re a couple.” Her dad answered.

“They’re practically married.” Emma replied.

“Wait, but do you guys think they’re a couple? An unmarried one who doesn't live together?” Emma followed up.

She saw her mom and dad rack their brains to see if they remembered anything out of the ordinary between the fourth and fifth grade teachers that night. And then she heard them agree with her crazy claim.

The next day, when she took Shelby’s side in the argument, their conversations shifted forever. The three friends had made it their new mission to find out if their teachers were really together.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

In between that time, the semester had ended, and the long awaited break had begun. Her mom and dad finally sat her down and told her about the different types of couples and all that jazz. They also took her to see her grandparents, where she stayed with all of her cousins for two weeks.

Emma, Shelby and Tommy met regularly to talk about their random findings, even during their break. Nothing was bigger than the time Emma saw them both at Ms. Lim’s bakery though. The two teachers didn’t notice her, and she didn’t try to get noticed as she saw them share a slice of cheesecake and basically smiled at each other for five minutes.

Through it all though, the mission seemed to be leading them practically nowhere. The new semester started with Shelby and Tommy telling Emma how Ms. (last name) came back with a new ring on her finger, signifying that she finally got married.

Tommy told her to check Mr. Choi’s hands to see if he had a ring on as well to confirm their suspicions. Mr. Choi always had rings on his fingers though, so that plan was fruitless.

For days on end, Emma tried to figure out if there was a new ring on Mr. Choi’s finger, and for days on end it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Just as Emma was about to give up though, the answers to their questions fell right into her lap.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

It was a rainy Thursday, and like all rainy days, Emma gets dropped off to school earlier than usual. Emma told her parents goodbye at the entrance of the school, watching her dad’s truck drive off with her mom waving at her wildly from the window.

Emma began to turn around to head inside before hearing the familiar purr of her teacher’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. She then stopped fully once she saw her teacher help Ms. (last name) out of the car?!?!!?!?!

Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) just came out of the same car. Mr. Choi is helping Ms. (last name) with her bags. Mr. Choi – OH MY GOODNESS DID MR. CHOI JUST KISS MS. (LAST NAME)’S FOREHEAD? were the thoughts that ran through Emma’s mind once she saw what transpired.

Emma wanted to stand there and rack her brain to find the sense in all of what had happened, but the teachers were both coming towards the entrance? Oh my goodness, Emma Kang. Go and run into a hole right now.

Emma picked up her pace and starts to walk away, but the warm tilt of a harmonious tone traveled to her ears as Ms. (last name) greeted her from her walk toward the door. Emma stopped like a deer in headlights, and turned slowly to greet the two teachers.

My goodness, they’re even sharing an umbrella. Emma Kang, for the first time in her life, just wants to not be a curious kid. Having to see this from her favorite teachers isn’t good for her psyche.

“Emma Kang, it’s been a while. How are you doing this morning? Are you ready for our rainy day movie session? I didn’t expect the rain to happen so quickly into the semester, but man am I excited for our class to get together again and have some fun. Do you want to help Mr. Choi and I choose the first movie? We’ve been arguing about the lineup all –”

“(First name), you’re rambling.” Mr. Choi interrupted, and only one thing entered Emma’s mind like a blaring siren once she saw Ms. (last name) stop and giggle about it, apologizing to the kid.

“You two are married.” Emma blurted out in the midst of Ms. (last name)’s apology, causing the two teachers to freeze up at the accusation – no, the declaration.

They both rubbed their necks in tandem; Ms. (last name) laughing nervously and suddenly finding interest in the school motto placed on the wall beside them. Mr. Choi looked at his wife, and then looked at his (now unfortunate) brightest student.

“You two are married right? Mr. Choi kissed your forehead and you guys got out of the same car and you guys are even holding pinkies over the handle of Ms. (last name)’s bag.” Emma asked, pointing out her deductions to the newlyweds before her.

The air stilled once she continued on with her findings, almost laughing at the fact that they immediately let go of each others’ pinkies. Mr. Choi told Emma to follow them, walking from the entrance and to the classroom of 2A.

Emma watched as they both started to unpack the bags, placing stuff here and there and working together like they’ve been doing this for years. Emma watched a new level of their cooperation unfold on that rainy thursday.

After they had set up everything, Ms. (last name) walked over to Mr. Choi, and pulled at his blazer to get his attention. They had a discussion with wide eyes and ragged whispers for about five minutes before Mr. Choi raised his hands in defeat. That’s when Emma noticed that he forwent the rings he usually donned, one simple band on his left ring finger catching the light in the room.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Ms. (last name) said after a few moments of awkward silence.

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers once she realized that they were admitting to her declarations.

“You guys really are married?” She carefully asked.

“Yes, yes we are. We recently tied the knot during the break.” Mr. Choi answers, stifling his laughter once he sees confusion slide across his student’s face.

“What does tying a knot have to do with your marriage?” Emma confusingly questioned.

“It’s an expression. One of the many ways of saying you got married without actually saying it.” Ms. (last name) replies, pinching her husband for laughing.

“Oh.” Is all Emma said in response.

The adults studied her face for any odd reactions from Emma Kang, who started to have another mental battle with herself.

“We actually wanted to tell you and the other kids about it later on.” Mr. Choi supplies helplessly.

That didn’t seem to work though, as Emma continued to just … blankly stare at them.

“Are you upset, Emma Kang?” Ms. (last name) asked after almost three minutes of heavy silence.

Then Emma blinks a few times, looking up at them with something close to joy swimming in her eyes. Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) let out the breath they didn’t even know they were holding.

“Upset? This is the best news I’ve gotten all school year. Why would I be upset when the two nicest people in the world are married?” Emma exclaims.

“I thought you’d be upset that we didn’t say anything.” Mr. Choi replied.

“I thought you had a crush on Mr. Choi, to be honest.” Ms. (last name) replied at the same time.

“I’m nine.” Emma deadpanned.

“When I was nine, I had a crush on my music teacher. I don’t see how that excuse is relevant.” Ms. (last name) said.

“(First name) you were just an odd kid.” Mr. Choi followed up.

Emma chuckled when she saw Ms. (last name) hit Mr. Choi on the arm for his comment.

“You who was crushing over Sam from ‘Danny Phantom’ at that exact age, puh-lease.” Ms. (last name) accused.

“At least she and I were closer in age than you and your old shriveled up music teacher.” Mr. Choi responded.

“Sam isn’t even real.” Ms. (last name) said.

“Neither was your chance with that wrinkly old music teacher.” Mr. Choi replied.

“He was 25 oh my goodness Jiung, stop calling him old.” Ms. (last name) exclaimed.

“Even worse.” Mr. Choi replied.

The adults stopped their playful banter when they heard Emma cracking up from her seat.

“You guys are the sweetest.” She replied once she stopped laughing, shocked at the fond looks that stretched their smiles wide at her.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The rainy day ended up with Emma harboring their secret for them, a lot of movies, and a kid crashing from a sugar rush after sneakily eating too much candy.

Later that semester, the teachers decided to tell their class separately about their marriage, which breaks another spout of gossip between Emma, Shelby and Tommy. The news spread through More Than Words Elementary like wildfire that day.

Questions were thrown at the couple for weeks to come after that, and a new quest (bet) was formed between the kid trio. Guessing when they’d have their first kid.

Emma now helped the kind teachers set up for movie days whenever it rained, and a new constant had been added to Emma’s long list of things she loved. Her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, Ms. (last name) and Mr. Choi from Class 2A. That was her list of constants.

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