#i can’t watch it yet because it’s 00:15 and i have to wake up for work in 5 hours

[irrolyphant]

Daisy Jones & the Six First Watch:

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

332 of 2023

♰ I'm a fly that’s trapped in a web but I'm thinking that my spider's dead ♰

Created by chasingghosts

Do you ever get groceries delivered to your house?

No, I’ve never used that option. I’m  not even sure if they do it here.

What was the last job interview you went to where you didn't get the job? Do you think the interview went well or not?

I don’t even remember lol. Must have been over 15 years ago. I’ve been employed even during studying in the university, and I’ve been working in my current company for 9+ years.

Are you the kind of person who can wake up with one alarm or do you need several?

I wake up even before.

What's your favourite pasta shape?

Penne. It’s always good.

What position is your body in right now? Sitting, laying, standing?

Just sat down on the couch after doing things in the kitchen.

Do you have any plans for the upcoming weekend?

Yeah, doing groceries and then going on vacation.

What's one of the saddest movies you've ever seen?

I’m not interested in movies.

Has a movie ever made you cry?

No, I don’t

If you have a pet, where are they right now?

Both are taking a nap on their cat tree. For once they’re not arguing :P

What's the last dessert you ate?

Does a milkshake count?

Do you experience deja vu often?

NNot that often, but happens sometimes.

Are there any rooms in your house that you don't go into every day?

Yeah, the room thaat belongs to my husband’s son.

Did you own many videos or DVDs when you were a kid?

Not that many. I’ve grown up in times of VHS tapes, though. It was beautiful.

What was the last physical pain you experienced?

Migraine.

Have you ever fed an animal at the zoo? Which ones?

I don’t remember, I was in the zoo only once in my life and I was 2 years old then.

Do you use Fahrenheit or Celsius? Do you know both or just one?

The whole Europe uses Celsius, and so does my country, by logic. I can’t even convert to F, it’s too abstract to me, just like imperial units.

Can you do a handstand? When was the last time you tried?

My left hand is affected with monoparesis. I wouldn’t manage to do it even if I wanted, I’d rather fall and injure myself.

Do people misunderstand you?

Less than before, but in general, yes.

What year will you/did you turn 30?

In 2020.

Have you ever worked or lived in a high rise building?

No, never.

Who are some of your favourite actors?

I don’t really care.

Do you hate it when musical artists make music for way too long and kinda ruin the legacy they'd originally built for themselves?

No, what’s there to hate? And what’s there to ruin in the first place?

Is there anything that's been bothering you emotionally lately?

Yeah, one certain guy. I know him, yet I don’t. I see him at the train station sometimes, but I don’t even know his name. He’s so intriguing and I’m strangely drawn to him.

What was the last store you shopped at?

Albert Heijn.

What time did you wake up today? Was that earlier or later than usual?

It was more or less around the normal time for me, 7:00.

Have you ever been to a parade? What for?

No, I haven’t.

When you exercise, do you do anything to entertain yourself like listen to music or watch TV?

Watch TV, usually.

Do you ever read other people's survey answers?

Yeah, because people are interesting.

What app on your phone do you use the most?

Spotify. And camera, of course :P

Does your current city differ from your hometown in terms of weather?

Not much. My hometown is usually a bit more windy because it’s placed by the coast.

Have you ever been engaged?

Yeah, once.

What can you hear right now?

A soap opera in TV.

Do you know anyone who is terminally ill?

I knew someone who died of cancer, if that counts.

What was your first best friend's name and where did you meet them? Are you still in touch with them?

A girl named Martina and no, she moved out in 1996 and I’ve never heard from her anymore. We met in kindergarten.

What's your favourite fruit?

Strawberry and cherry.

Do you have nice views from your house?

Pff no. The other side of the street and an ugly backyard lol.

What was the last album you listened to?

I never listen to the whole albums.

How often do you get paid?

Twice a month when at work, once a month while on a sick leave.

Do you own any cool or interesting mugs?

Yep. I have one with djent music genre, one with the logo of my company, and one with a skull.

If you had to start a university course next week, what do you think you'd like to study?

I’d continue with my 2nd degree, the standard Dutch language.

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs

The fires had been blazing for weeks now, inching closer and closer to your home and firefighters were pouring in. You’d decided to stay, the fire was mostly moving away from town, thank god. The mayor had said that people who were willing to stay and help care for the hordes of firefighters pouring into town were appreciated. So even though you were a single Omega, you’d signed up. You could take in 2-6 firefighters depending on if they were willing to share a bed with one another and if you needed to sleep on the couch. You’d been assigned 3 men, all from New York City, one a Captain and all of them Alphas.

When you open the door as they walk up your sidewalk the first, a man with light hair and blue eyes, gives you a tight smile.

“Hi, welcome. I have a dog, is that okay?” The three men don’t even have to look at one another before all nodding yes. “Great, come on in.” You move out of the doorway and the three men come into the house.

“Thank you so much for opening your home to us.” The first man says, god he smells good, like sandalwood and lavender.

“It’s the least I could do.” You introduce yourself as your dog comes trotting into the room, Cooper’s tail wagging wildly. “But you can call me Fawn, and this is Cooper.”

“Sorry, I’m Steve Rogers, this is Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.” The first man says introducing himself and the two men with him.

“It’s a pleasure. I’ll show you guys to your rooms.” You lead them upstairs and show them each to a room. Bucky takes your first spare room, Sam the second and Steve is in the master.

“Buck, you’ve got third shift, Sam you’re on first and I’m on second.”

“Do we start today?” Bucky asks as you make your way downstairs, you were given a small packet for the guys, things you would need to know like allergies, presentation, emergency contacts and dietary restrictions. All three are simple, no dietary issues, no allergies, Alphas, Sam has his wife Carol as his emergency contact but Steve and Bucky, or James as he’s listed, both have Rebecca Barnes, Bucky’s sister.

You get started on dinner and Sam wanders down into the kitchen bringing his

“So, why didn’t you leave town?”

“Nowhere to go. And the fire is heading away from here so hopefully everything will stay away from town.”

“The smoke doesn’t bother you?”

“I mean it’s not great but as long as Coop and I are okay I plan on staying. I’ve got some stuff packed up in my car and ready to go but I just haven’t pulled the trigger yet.”

“That’s fair. We do really appreciate you doing this. Letting us stay here.” He’s got such a soothing presence about him that you forget he’s an Alpha until his scent washes over you.

“It’s the least I can do,” you tell him with a smile, “so what does first shift mean?”

“Oh, it’s the really early shift, like 4am. Steve will be out running a crew since he’s a Captain back home and he’s around 10am then Bucky is 4pm.”

“What will I need for you in the morning? Breakfast? Coffee? Energy bars?”

“Coffee would be great. I usually take it with milk.” You jot down coffee and milk on a sheet of paper.

“How do the other two take their coffee?”

“Barnes likes it black, like a psychopath and Steve likes it with cream and sugar so he can’t taste the coffee.” You laugh and jot down creamer.

“Any chance you know what kind of creamer he likes?”

“Caramel I think.”

“I can always ask him too. I’ll set the coffee to go off at 3:15 for you.”

“Thank you.” Sam says as he sits down at the island. “What are you making for dinner?”

“Spaghetti. I make the sauce from scratch, from the garden.”

“It smells great.”

“Thanks, should be about a half hour. I’ve got meatballs in the oven and will have some garlic bread and green beans from my garden too.”

“You’re going to spoil us huh?” He says with a grin and you laugh, hoping that your suppressants work like they’re supposed to and keep you presenting as a Beta.

“I don’t get to cook for others often so I’m being a little selfish. Let me know if you need anything from town or want me to get anything. I’ll go shopping for the week tomorrow.”

“Are they paying you to host us?”

“No, but I don’t mind getting you guys stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t offer if it was a problem.” You assure him and after studying you he nods.

“I’ll be sure to let the guys know.” You chat with Sam while you cook. You learn that his wife Carol is an Alpha and a doctor. The Alpha/Alpha pair is uncommon but if it works for them that’s wonderful. You also learn that he, Bucky and Steve served together and that Carol had outranked all three.

It seems that Steve has always been the one to lead their little trio, and when the smell of dinner lures him and Bucky down you include them in the conversation. Bucky, whose scent is oranges and cedar wood, is more chatty and flirty than Steve is but there’s this quiet strength about Steve that’s impossible not to notice.

Sam goes to bed immediately after dinner but Steve and Bucky stay up and watch the news with you. You set the coffee machine for Sam and leave him a note to help himself to anything he wants to eat. Then you bring Cooper outside, he wanders your wildfire lit backyard, the orange glow is spooky and the smell of smoke is thick in the air.

“Come on Coop, it’s bedtime.” You tell him leading him to the living room. Both Steve and Bucky are gone so you change into your pajamas and get ready for bed in the bathroom then head back to the couch where Cooper is laying dead center. “Move it Coop.” He grumbles but gets down, once you’re settled you let him back up on the couch between your feet.

You wake up as Sam closes the fridge.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says softly. When he turns and sees you sitting up on the couch.

“No it’s okay.” You tell him as Cooper hops off of the couch. You follow him to the back door and let him out.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“They needed three more beds so I gave them three more beds.”

“We put you out of your room?” He asks with a small frown.

“I sleep more on the couch anyway, I usually fall asleep to one baking show or another.” You tell him with a sleepy smile, you hadn’t meant to tell them they’d taken all your beds but it was too late now.

“This is your home.”

“Seriously Sam don’t worry about it.” You say letting Cooper back into the house. “Be safe.”

“Thanks.” He says and you go back to bed on the couch.

The next time you wake it’s 9:00 and you want to make sure that you’ve got something ready for Bucky and Steve for breakfast so you get up. You feed Cooper then let him out again, if there wasn’t the fire you’d let him stay outside as long as he wanted. You sit down on the couch and pull your tablet into your lap. Cooper joins you on the couch as you start to draw your characters.

“Morning.” Steve’s voice is low and soft when he greets you.

“Good morning. There are pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon in the oven. The pans will be warm.”

“Thanks,” you hear him help himself to food and coffee then he comes out into the living room. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. Don’t let Coop fool you into any food though.”

“No people food for him?”

“Just some fruit and veggies.” You tell him glancing up at the fire captain. “So Sam said you guys were on a 4-10-4 start time but what time are you all home?”

“We’re doing 12 hour shifts, so Sam and Buck don’t overlap but I will with both.”

“Okay, I’ll have dinner ready when you get back. Is there anything that I don’t have that you need? Sam said you liked a certain flavor of creamer.”

“The French vanilla is fine.”

“He said caramel?” You glance over at him again and he has this little shy smile on his face. “I don’t mind, I need to go get groceries anyway.”

“Caramel is my favorite.” He admits and you nod then get back to your drawing. He finishes his breakfast in silence then puts his dishes into the dishwasher, Steve heads back upstairs and you hear him finish getting ready before he comes back down.

“Be safe.”

“Thanks.” He says before closing the door softly behind him.

Bucky sleeps until almost noon, you’ve taken breakfast out of the oven and put it in the fridge. He somehow looks groggy still and you’re worried he didn’t sleep well.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. How are you?” His voice is low and husky.

“Good. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yea I slept great. I could still be asleep to be honest but I might get called in early.”

“Why?”

“There are less guys at base camp right now. Apparently a group of them had some trouble on the way? I don’t know but Steve called.”

“Breakfast is in the fridge if you wanna heat it otherwise I have lunch meat and stuff for sandwiches.”

“I love breakfast food.” He says making his way to the fridge. He starts a cup of coffee then opens the fridge.

You find out that Bucky is a chatter. Which is fine but you’re glad that you’re illustrating today rather than writing because there’s no way you’d be able to focus on writing. He asks you about living in the small town, how you ended up here, about your job, when he finds out you’re an author and illustrator of children’s books he promises to buy his niece a couple books. You tell him to leave his address and you’ll send him a signed copy of the one you’re working on, he excitedly does.

When he leaves at 3:30, not being called in early, you take a break and start on dinner. You want to make sure you’ve got food ready for Sam when he gets back.

Sam comes in at 4:45, Cooper barks excitedly and Sam sinks to the ground and Cooper immediately calms allowing Sam to wrap his arms around him. You don’t say anything, just continue to cook while Sam hugs Cooper to him. You hear him talking softly but you ignore him, whatever he’s saying to Coop is none of your business.

“I’m gonna go take a shower before I eat.” Sam says at full volume, the side of his face still pressed to Cooper’s side.

“That’s fine,” you assure him, “I’ve got about twenty minutes before the rice is done.”

“Okay.” He disappears then Cooper comes wandering into the kitchen. You give him a couple of treats and tell him what a good boy he is.

Sam eats in silence then goes up to his room, you’re pretty sure he goes to bed by 7 but after the day he’s had you can’t blame him.

At 10 you start reheating food for when Steve comes in. Sure enough, 10:30 rolls in and so does Steve. Cooper greets Steve with a wagging tail, Steve gives him a little pat and heads upstairs. You hear the shower turn on and after around 10 minutes Steve is back dropping down on the couch as Cooper puts a head in his lap. Steve absently pets Cooper and you place a plate of food in front of him.

“Thank you.” His tired eyes meet yours and he gives you a little half smile.

“It’s the least I can do.” You tell him sincerely. Cooper stays with his head in Steve’s lap until Steve goes upstairs to bed. You set up your bed on the couch and set your alarm for 3:30 in the morning so you can get food heated for Bucky and coffee and food started for Sam.

You fall asleep still smelling Steve on your couch.

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger

[multi-fandom-imagines-stuff]

Smaller Than This

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/daughter!reader, Peter Parker/platonic!reader, Wanda Maximoff/reader

Description: The reader is Natasha Romanoff’s daughter, best friend of Peter Parker, and girlfriend of Wanda Maximoff. Growing up in the spotlight is hard enough, but things cross a line when people start commenting on the reader’s weight.

Warnings: eating disorder, swearing, threats of violence

Word count: 3,282

A/N: I know it’s not easy to deal with eating disorders, but please know that you are beautiful and amazing and you don’t deserve to have to suffer through that. Please, if you are struggling with this, reach out for help. <3

✩❀✩❀✩

Black Widow’s daughter spotted in Central Park with new best friend Scarlet Witch and Stark Industry intern Peter Parker! Could Parker be y/n’s new boyfriend?

You laughed and rolled your eyes as you clicked on the tweet. Stalking paparazzi twitter accounts had to be one of your favorite pastimes, simply because the so-called facts they were giving out were false 99% of the time. For instance, this situation? You had gone out for a picnic with Peter and Wanda when those photos were taken, and the paparazzi completely twisted things. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just your best friend. And Wanda wasn’t your best friend, she was your girlfriend. You chose to ignore the false headline as you went immediately for the replies.

‘Do you see the way y/n’s looking at Wanda? It seems more like there’s something going on between them than there is between y/n and Peter’

You smiled and liked that tweet. You liked messing with people just a bit. Whenever someone would tweet about there possibly being a relationship between you and Wanda, you liked the tweet. It wasn’t enough information to actually confirm the relationship as true, but it was enough to keep people speculating.

You scrolled through several more replies. Most of them were people using the heart eyes emoji or saying how much they loved your mom, but there were a few in there that stuck out more than the rest. That was because they were harsh and hurtful.

‘I don’t understand how someone can live with the Avengers and still look like that. Does she ever even exercise?’

‘She could stand to lose some weight. Instead of going out for a picnic, she should try to skip a few meals’

You read through replies for a few more minutes. Similar comments would pop up now and then, and while there wasn’t an overwhelming amount, there was still enough to make you close down the app and shut off your phone, averting all your attention toward not crying. 

“Miss y/n, dinner has been called,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang through your room.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, you got off your bed and made your way to the dining room. There, Peter and Wanda were setting the table while Steve and Bucky carried out the food.

You walked up behind your girlfriend and wrapped your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. You felt her jump slightly before she realized it was you and relaxed into your touch. You placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I love you,” You whispered in her ear.

“Hey! What did we talk about?” Tony directed at you, raising an eyebrow at you and causing you to roll your eyes.

“No lovey-dovey shit at the dinner table,” You mumbled.

“Language!” Steve scolded you as Clint joined the conversation.

“Oh, come on, Tony,” He said. “It’s young love. It’s harmless and adorable.”

“It makes me want to hurl,” Tony retorted.

To onlookers, it may have sounded like Tony was being a real dick, but you knew he was just teasing you. He’d never admit it, but secretly he loved how happy you and Wanda made each other.

“Watch it, Stark,” Your mom shot him a glare. “That’s my kid you’re talking about.”

Your head whipped up at your mom’s voice. She had been on a mission for the past week and wasn’t supposed to get home for another three days.

“Mom!” You yelled as you ran toward her, wrapping your arms around her as you squeezed her tight.

“Hey, kiddo! I’ve missed you!” She said, hugging you back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“I’ve missed you, too!”

“As much as I hate to break up this reunion,” Bucky said, causing you to pull away from your mom. “Steve and I slaved over dinner and it’s getting cold, so let’s eat.”

You took your seat at the table—in between Peter and Wanda—and filled your plate with the spaghetti and garlic bread Steve and Bucky made. Everyone was silent as you all dug into your food and, you had to admit, it tasted amazing. 

When Steve and Bucky first moved in, neither of them were allowed near a stove without supervision. They had started too many accidental fires. But after lots and lots of practice, the two of them easily became the best cooks in the tower.

After dinner, you excused yourself to your room. Your phone was still lying face down on the bed, so you grabbed it and opened it up. Right away, you noticed several notifications from twitter. Upon further investigation, you found that the rude comments people were saying about you had extended to your messages. Now, you had complete strangers messaging you about how you needed to ‘lose weight’, or ‘eat less’, or ‘exercise more’. A few of the messages even called you a ‘disappointment to the Avengers’.

You deactivated your account and deleted the app from your phone, but the damage was already done and you knew it. So you came up with a plan and decided to set it into motion the next morning.

✩❀✩❀✩

You woke up in the morning to your alarm blaring. Checking the time, you saw it was 4:30, and you wondered why your alarm was going off so early before you remembered the plan you had made the night before.

You got out of bed and quickly dressed in athletic attire before running out of your room. You knew Steve liked to run in the mornings, so you sat in the kitchen waiting for him.

When he finally sauntered in at 5:00, he was more than surprised to see you sitting there.

“Y/n?” He asked. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Can I run with you today, Uncle Steve?” You asked him, a pleading look on your face that you knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Yeah, sure,” He said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be sleeping?”

You nodded. 

“I want to start running. My mile time in P.E. class has been slacking lately and I don’t want to fail the class.”

You were surprised yet proud of how quickly you were able to come up with that lie, and you were happy to see that Steve believed every word of it.

So that’s how you spent your morning: running laps with Steve.

The two of you finally called it quits around 6:15 and parted ways. Steve went off to do whatever he did during the days, and you went off to squeeze in a quick shower before school.

By the time you were done with your shower, it was nearly 7:00, which meant you had to rush to get dressed. You finally made it to the kitchen, where Wanda was already waiting for you. The two of you yelled a quick ‘bye’ to whoever was listening before you started the quick walk to the bus stop.

You felt Wanda’s hand interlock with yours and a smile arose on your face as you squeezed her hand. You two didn’t want to publicly disclose your relationship yet, so you knew the minute you reached the bus stop you’d have to let go.

✩❀✩❀✩

At lunch, you sat at a table with Wanda, Peter, MJ, and Ned. You skipped the food line and instead opted to sip at a bottle of water.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Peter asked you.

“What do you mean?” You shot back, not quite sure what he was getting at.

“You’re not eating.”

Shit. You had to think of a lie, and you had to be extra careful since your girlfriend could read minds. She promised you she’d never read your mind without your consent, but you were still wary.

“Uh...I’m just not feeling well,” You said. “My stomach is feeling a little flip-floppy and I don’t want to push it.”

To your luck, they nodded it off and changed the topic, not questioning you again for the rest of the day.

That night at dinner, you pushed the food around on your plate, eating a few bites here and there. It wasn’t hard to pretend you had eaten, especially since your family was so big. Everyone seemed to be so caught up in conversations with other people that they didn’t notice when you got up and scraped your food into the trash.

✩❀✩❀✩

These habits carried on for a few more weeks. You’d wake up every morning to run with Steve, make up some excuse for why you didn’t eat lunch, and you’d have a few bites of dinner before sneakily trashing it. On most weekends, you chose to spend your time training with your mom. You claimed it was so that you could stay sharp with your self-defense skills, and while that wasn’t necessarily a lie, it wasn’t the full truth, either. But your mom never questioned it, and you were glad.

You seemed to fly under the radar, until one Sunday afternoon.

You walked into your room after training with your mom to find Peter and Wanda waiting for you.

“Hey, guys,” You greeted, throwing yourself into a chair and downing half a bottle of water. “What’s up?” 

“We know,” Wanda said, a stern yet concerned look on her face.

“Know what?” You asked her, although you could feel your heart rate rising. You knew what she was talking about.

“That you haven’t been eating,” Peter joined in.

“What’re you talking about? Of course I’ve been eating.”

That was a lie. Your stomach hadn’t been properly filled in weeks and you couldn’t remember the last time it wasn’t rumbling. But that wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that you were finally losing weight. There’s no way you could stop now.

“Cut the crap, y/n,” Peter said, catching you by surprise. “We’ve been watching you. I can’t even remember the last time you bought a school lunch.”

“And you pick at your food at dinner every night,” Wanda added. “I haven’t seen you eat more than three bites. You think no one notices, but you’re wrong. And I can feel you, love. You feel...empty.”

Wanda rested her hand on your knee as you tried to process what was happening. You had been so good at hiding this, how had they found out?

“You guys, I’m—” You started before Peter cut you off.

“Don’t say you’re fine, because you’re not. We know it, and you know it, so please stop lying to us, y/n. We just want to help.”

“I have it under control, I don’t need help,” You protested. “Just...please don’t tell my mom.”

“Y/n—”

“Wanda, please,” You begged. “My mom has enough to worry about as it is. I don’t need to add this to her stress as well. I promise, I have it under control. I’m alright.”

Wanda and Peter shared a look before turning back to you. 

“We’ll keep this between us for now,” Peter said, and you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“But, if things get any worse, we won’t hesitate to bring your mom into this,” Wanda warned.

You nodded and the two of them left, Wanda kissing you quickly before walking out of the room. 

‘I just need to hide it better’ you thought to yourself. ‘This is all my fault for being too obvious about things. I need to do better.’

Wanda and Peter had dropped the topic for the time being, until a week later, things took a turn for the worse when your P.E. teacher announced that your class was running the mile that day.

Thanks to training with Steve, your mile time had improved and you were one of the fastest in the class. However, due to malnutrition, any sort of exercise made you extremely lightheaded. 

You ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to make up some excuse to sit out. You convinced yourself you just weren’t drinking enough water so you drank an entire water bottle and went to class.

You were about halfway done with your mile when the corners of your vision turned black. You blinked a few times, trying to edge it away, but it was no use. By now, you heard a loud ringing in your ears and the world started spinning around you. You slowed down a bit, trying to regain your composure when you felt your knees buckle underneath you, and you were plunged into a world of darkness, not feeling it when you hit the ground.

✩❀✩❀✩

When you awoke, you were still laying on the field, your entire class swarming around you. You were trying to sit up when you felt something attached to your hand. 

You looked to the right and saw Wanda sitting there, looking scared as hell.

“Miss Maximoff, Mr. Parker, please escort Miss Romanoff to the nurse’s office,” Your teacher ordered.

You felt Wanda help lift you to a standing position and once you were up, you felt the world start spinning again. You shut your eyes tight as two arms, you assumed they belonged to Wanda and Peter, wrapped around either side of your waist. Soon enough, the dizziness ceased and you opened your eyes, signaling for Peter and Wanda to start walking with you.

You made it to the nurse’s station where you saw your mom already waiting.

“Mom?” You asked, wondering how she had gotten to your school so quickly.

“Peter called me the second he saw you fall,” She explained.

You, Wanda, and Peter were dismissed from school early, and your mom led you all back to her car. You sat in the passenger seat while Peter and Wanda sat in the back.

“What happened?” Your mom demanded.

The tone of her voice scared you a little bit, but you knew it was filled more with concern than it was with anger.

“I must’ve just gotten overheated or something,” You lied, knowing exactly why you passed out. “I was doing fine one second, and then the next I was on the ground.”

“That’s not true, Ms. Romanoff,” Peter interjected.

You whipped your head around to him and shook your head, silently pleading him to not tell her.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Peter, stop,” You said, panicking at what was about to be said.

“Y/n hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a month,” Wanda admitted.

You shot your girlfriend a look of betrayal before turning back around to face forward.

“You, what?!” Your mom blared. “Y/n, is this true?”

Your silence was enough of an answer for her to understand that yes, it was true.

“Y/n, baby, why?” Your mom said.

You could tell she was trying to be strong, but her voice was cracking.

“Because I’m not like you guys, okay?!” You finally snapped, letting loose all of your pent-up emotions. “I don’t have a super-human metabolism like Peter, and I don’t have a perfectly in-shape body. I’m not an avenger and it sure as hell shows. Even people I don’t even know were making comments about it on twitter.”

“Is that why you disabled your account?” Peter asked, realization hitting him.

You nodded and looked down at your fingers, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them.

By now, you had reached the tower and your mom put the car into park, turning to face you.

“Y/n, I know it’s been hard for you to grow up in the spotlight, constantly being compared to us but this isn’t healthy,” She said, cupping your chin and lightly pulling your head up to meet her gaze. “If I had known all of this, I never would have let you do all those extra training sessions with me. It’s not safe for you to keep exercising like this when you’re not giving your body proper nourishment.”

“I can’t—” You sniffed. “I can’t stop. I need help.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as your mom brushed it away, pulling you in for a hug before the four of you got out of the car.

Once inside, your mom told you to sit down in the living room while she left for a few minutes. When she returned, she had the rest of the team with her and you could only assume she had given them the run-down on your situation. 

You were slightly hurt that she had shared your personal life like that, but you knew it was for the best.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Your mom said once everyone was settled. “Y/n, you’re going to help with dinner every night. I know it can be hard once you’ve developed a food phobia, but when you’re in control of what we eat every night it makes things a little easier. No more throwing your food in the trash, okay? As for school, I’ll be making you a homemade lunch each day, and Peter and Wanda will be keeping an eye on you and will be reporting back to me. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call and set you up an appointment with a therapist. Bottling up your emotions will only make things worse, trust me. You need to talk to someone, and a therapist will help to give you healthier coping mechanisms.”

You listened as your mom laid out these new rules before telling you to go lie down. As you got up to leave, you were bombarded with your family hugging you and telling you they were there for you. You honestly had never felt more loved and supported in your life.

You finally made your way to your room, lying down in bed. A few minutes later, you heard a knock at your door.

“Come in,” You said weakly.

The handle turned and Wanda walked in, using her powers to levitate a tray behind her. You sat up and she put the tray down in your lap. On the tray, you saw there was a plate of cheese and crackers.

You looked down at the tray before looking up at your girlfriend. You forced yourself to pick up one of the crackers and take a bite, your mind screaming at you the entire time. But you were sick. You knew this. You wanted to get better.

“I’m sorry for telling your mother,” Wanda spoke. “You were slowly killing yourself and I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I’m so sorry, y/n. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t blame you, Wan,” You told her. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I never should have forced you and Peter to keep this a secret.”

Wanda wrapped you into her arms, squeezing tightly. The two of you stayed like that for a long time before you pulled away and, bite by bite, finished the snack she had brought you.

✩❀✩❀✩

You had been in recovery for about a month now, and while things were far from easy, you knew you could do it. Your family was your support system and they were right there by your side every step of the way.

You were sitting on the couch with Peter and Wanda, you and your girlfriend tangled in each other’s arms as you watched your mom on tv. She was finishing up a press conference.

“Oh, and one last thing before I go,” She spoke toward the camera and the audience. “Whoever decided to make awful comments about my daughter online, I am a trained assassin and I will find you.”

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Fixated

A/N: I can’t explain how I am feeling, so I am going to let fic do it instead. This is entirely written without edits, without a read through.  Overworked!Scott

Edit: Okay I did a read through. Remaining mistakes are mine

-----

Virgil is the first to notice. Maybe because he’s Virgil, and possibly because he’s the only one who can call Scott his immediate older brother, so there’s something in their closeness in age, having navigated childhood together almost as equals, that sets his Scott-sense apart from that of his younger siblings.

When Scott was thirteen and Virgil was eleven, Scott was in the eighth grade and had to write a research report on the Wright Brothers, the pioneers of modern aviation. And that was all well and good, because Scott was going to start training for his pilot’s license right when he turned sixteen. The report became not just a chronicle of the historical figures’ lives, but also of flight, of the first airplane itself and the prototypes before it, of physics, and aerodynamics. He researched in a way he never had before because it was a subject he was passionate about.

He obsessed.

Like John but different.

John absorbed the search for knowledge into the fiber of his being, his fingertips always itching to take a deeper dive through archives when he heard a word he didn’t know or a concept he couldn’t explain fully. Research was as much a part of John as music was for Virgil, or swimming was for Gordon. It was a companion he could always revisit later, and so like all of them with hobbies that mattered, John knew how to catalog  and save for a better time, and turn the itch aside when he needed to. He knew when to stop.

Scott didn’t. Scott defined the turn of phrase “down the rabbit hole.” Alice caught and enraptured by the not yet known or understood.

When he cared, he obsessed.  

That project got finished with an A+, but resulted in anxious shaking that didn’t alleviate until a few days after the grades came back. Scott had lost weight, skipped his extra curriculars, and Virgil hadn’t seen him for two whole weeks while he worked. The younger ones likely didn’t remember.

But Virgil did. And he knew the signs. Forgetting to eat, falling asleep at his computer or on his books, waking up earlier than normal to get a head start to whatever imaginary goals he created for himself that day.

So, the day Virgil notices, it’s because Scott missed lunch. Grandma had made hot wings, which was one of his favorites, so the smell of char in the air would’ve been enough to set his stomach rumbling. With Scott absent when he definitely shouldn’t be, Virgil decides to make him a plate, six hot wings with ranch on the side, and some celery.

He finds Scott at their father’s his work desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard, intently scanning the files behind the screen.

“Hey, I brought you lunch.”

No answer.

Virgil steps closer to the desk, sure that once Scott catches him in his periphery, he’d acknowledge his presence. But Scott doesn’t appear to have a periphery when he’s focused like that.

“Scott?” There’s a little room on the desk, so he nudges a few papers to the side and slides the plate down. “Scooter?” He looks tense. He can see knots forming, so he drops a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and –

“FU—”

Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, his hands fly up, catching the side of the plate which clatters, sending ranch and hot sauce all over the floor. Even MAX scurries away with a low beep at the sudden sound, and Virgil flinched in a sudden panic when the dish slipped through his fingers.

“Sorry, sorry! I just meant to help.” Virgil is already kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up what he can with his hands, knowing he needs a wet rag. Maybe a mop.

The little cup that held the ranch slid a ways. Gross.

“Ah. Thanks, Virg,” Scott says. And he means it, Virgil knows that. But he can also see the gears in Scott’s head still working, still thinking about whatever he had been focused on, not quite fully present. “Umm. Do you have this? I’m under a deadline.” He looks at his watch. “Ugh. A rough one. I’d help if I could.”

“No, I got this! Sorry, Scott.” He picks up the dirty hot wings, placing them on a plate for their compost pile. “Is there anything else I can get you instead? These were the last of them.”

But Scott doesn’t answer. He’s already back to his computer.

~*~

Gordon is next.

He may not have the same Scott-sense as Virgil, may not have picked up on it as quickly, but he and Scott both share early morning routines, meeting in the kitchen at 5:00, Scott dressed in a tank and his running shorts, Gordon in his swimsuit, a towel around his shoulders. Coffee is too heavy to start the day, but Scott usually would begin the brew for when they returned (and in case Virgil woke up) while Gordon filled their respective water bottles. Whoever finished first chose the energy boost of choice – sometimes just a snack bar, sometimes a shake. On weekends, it might be oatmeal or toast.

Out by the pool by 5:15. Stretching was important.

Scott began his run. Gordon began his laps. They went about their day. Rinse, repeat.

Occasionally a rescue might come in and affect their sleep cycle just a bit, but Scott and Gordon were both military. If they weren’t rising before the sun, it was too late and they lost half their day already.

So Gordon is next, because Scott doesn’t meet him in the kitchen. He’s not sure he knows how to make smoothies for one – hasn’t in a long time – so he proportions his ingredients for two, fills a second cup for Scott when he wakes, and sticks it in the refrigerator so it will stay cold.

He pushes himself during his exercise. He was long past chasing times, but he still raced himself. Seconds could save a life, and so he exercised for speed, for longevity sometimes. For survival.

It’s a longevity day, so he’s abandons speed for energy conservation, which makes it a long morning.

His muscles are tired and sore when he returns to the kitchen and opens the fridge for a drink to boost his electrolytes. He is not in the mood for coffee today, but sees the pot is half full, so someone is up. But it’s not Scott.

Because the smoothie is still in the fridge, untouched.

He tells himself he needs to check in on Scott once he finishes his research down at the dock today. He’s been tracking a pod of dolphins near Mateo and has been needing to collect the latest data captured by his little research vessel.

He’ll catch him later. Figure out what’s going on.

~*~

Then it’s Alan.

Alan admires Scott, has been practically raised by him since Dad disappeared. Scott is everything Alan wants to be… just the John version of him. Take Scott’s courage and bravery, John’s love of space, you get Alan. Eyes on the horizon, but looking beyond it into stratosphere, exosphere, the space between stars itself.

He’s a hell of a pilot. He knows that. He wouldn’t be the pilot of Thunderbird Three otherwise. But a part of him will always seek the approval of his older siblings. He wants to make Scott proud.

Scott hasn’t had the time for him lately. He’s been working on… oh he doesn’t know. They don’t tell him. Something for Tracy Industries.

His final quarter grades have come out, and he aced all his classes.  It had been a hard semester and juggling his courses between rescues had been tough. He’d needed to call on his brothers’ expertise a few times.

He knows Scott has his file somewhere in his email, but he likely hasn’t gotten to it yet because he hasn’t said anything to him. It’s been a few days. So Alan pulls up his grades on his datapad and strolls past the center of the lounge over to Scott.

The first time he says Scott’s name, he doesn’t answer.

Nor the second.

The thirdfourthfifth time, because that’s how he called for him, the name running together like that, Scott irritably gives him a low grumble of “What do you want, Alan?” He doesn’t glance up, and the smile falters from Alan’s face.

“Oh, I, uh—” This was silly. It’s not important, really. Scott will get to it eventually.  “My grades came through. When you get a chance.”

He grumbles in response. “I’ll look later,” he says. “I need to…”

But he trails off, back to his computer, and Alan still doesn’t know what project stole his brother away.

~*~

John’s the last.

He’s called to check in. He’s definitely connected, but....

Scott is slumped at his desk, and John’s calls are not working.

“Scott!”

No answer. The figure at the desk doesn’t budge. So John opens a channel to the rest of his brothers, his feet already sending him toward the space elevator as he calls out. “I can’t wake Scott!”

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Bestfriend (College!Childe x College!Reader) PART 1

note: hello! i'm going to be making an entire college au series for the genshin characters ehe. this is a pretty lengthy one so i had to cut it into two parts. i hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.4k

"Why can't I get this shit to work?!"

You checked the clock.

3:28 AM.

Great. You had a half-seven morning class with professor Cyrus, and yet, here you were. Baking cookies at 3:28 AM. Although, baking wasn't really the appropriate term for it. Maybe... burning was a better fit.

You weren't a culinary arts major; Far from it, actually. You were in a college course that needed immense analytical and critical thinking skills: Accounting. You loved your course. You were always amazed by how numbers can always add up properly if you analyzed all the transactions properly beforehand. It also gave you more patience to thoroughly understand each problem presented to you so that you'd end up with the right answer in the end.

Which is why you were so dumbfounded when your cookies looked like pieces of charcoal the moment you took them out of the oven.

You followed the recipe, didn't you? Why don't your baked goodies look like those gorgeous gooey chocolate chip cookies on the website?

That was the... fourth batch of cookies you made that night. Frustrated, you carelessly threw the still-hot baking sheet in the sink. You didn't even mind that there were crumbs and burnt cookie residue in your damp sink. Like, there were burnt cookies on your counter, on your dining table, and even on your stovetop. Why be bothered about the sink, right? You could clean it up in the morning, anyway.

"Why am I even doing this?" You sighed, eyeing how there was a bit of black smoke coming out of your oven. You opened a window and fanned it out to prevent the smoke detector from going off. You didn't need more nuances adding to your already dwindling patience.

Taking in the sight of the flour, sugar, and egg-coated workstation you had, you realized that baking just wasn't your forte. If only your boyfriend was interested in receiving his complete financial statements for the year, then maybe you'd have an easier time in thinking of a present for his birthday.

You looked at the calendar.

July 20th.

It was the day of Childe's birthday.

He informed you yesterday that his friends had invited him to go to a party the night of the 20th to celebrate his birthday, and you politely declined his offer for you to be his plus one. Of course, he was disappointed. You could notice by how his cerulean eyes drooped to the floor and how his thin, pink lips pushed themselves into a pout.

"But... You have to be there, _____." He whined, taking your hands in his.

"I know, Childe. But you know that I have to review my presentation for professor An's class. It's going to make or break my term grade." You were disappointed. You wanted to spend the entire day with Childe, maybe cuddled up in bed, eating hot pizza and watching Netflix. However, you knew how much he loved partying and hanging out with his friends- Kaeya, was it? and the other boys in their fraternity. You disapproved of his frat-boy party-going lifestyle, but you didn't want to impose, so you just kept it to yourself.

"But it's my birthday," He reasoned, voice laced with sadness.

"I know, darling. I know. We can still spend the entire afternoon together before you head out to party with your friends... If you want. You're free for the entire day, right?" Your voice faltered a bit, unsure of whether he'd accept your proposal or not.

"Mhm! I'd be more than happy to spend the whole afternoon tomorrow with you, babe. We can hit the amusement park, or maybe watch a movie, or maybe have a picnic, or..."

As Childe continued to ramble on about all the possible plans you could do tomorrow, you couldn't help but smile at him. How his demeanor changed, and how he could never seem to hold a grudge against you even if he was upset. He spoiled you so much and you wanted to let him know that you appreciate him as much as he loves you.

And... Here you were.

You didn't expect baking to be so hard. You thought that following a simple recipe would lead to a great outcome the first time around.

Look how that turned out for you. Your tokens of appreciation for Childe were there. In the sink, on the counter, on the dining table, and on the stovetop. All burnt and inedible.

"Fuck this baking thing, I'll just get Zhongli to help me before lunch." You muttered, taking off your apron and retreating to your couch. You didn't want to sleep in your bed because your clothes were still messy, but you were too tired to clean up (too pissed to even care, to be honest).

And so, you flopped on the couch and set an alarm for 6:00 AM before you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of burnt baking pans and noisy smoke detectors.

-

The annoying sound of your alarm rang in your ears like a never-ending mockery of how your life is going. Why do morning classes exist? Why do alarms exist?

You groggily rubbed your eyes and rolled off the couch, landing on the carpet with a soft "thud". You blindly felt around the coffee table to look for your phone. Upon feeling the silicone texture of your case, you pulled it towards your chest and squinted your eyes as the bright display of the lock screen glared against your eyeballs.

You opened your phone by using the passcode (0720, go ahead and guess what that means) and tapped on the green message icon to open your texts. You then quickly typed out a message for a certain history major.

[ Hey, Zhongli, mind if you help me out before lunch later so I could bake some cookies for Childe? ]

Sent 6:04 AM.

You looked up at the ceiling and waited for a while, already planning out your itinerary for the day. The ding! of your phone was heard, waking you more than you already were.

[ I don't see why not. I have a vacant period right before lunch. I'm off at 9:00 and I'm vacant until noon. Are you free then? ]

Received 6:06 AM.

You couldn't help but grin. Zhongli was so kind. He was Childe's friend since high school, and although you found him somehow... creepy because of the knowledge he possesses (Seriously, was his brain implanted with a computer chip or something?), you still considered him a good friend.

[ Thank you so much! Yeah, I only have one class today anyway. I'll meet you in front of the main building by 9:00. ]

Sent 6:08 AM.

You got up from the carpet and stretched for a bit, wincing when the small burn on your arm stung. You had a few cuts and burns on your hands, fingers, and arms because of how clumsy you were in the kitchen, but it was fine. Who doesn't fuck up from time-to-time

You headed to the kitchen to clean up. You dumped all the burnt biscuits into a large garbage bag, wiped the counters, and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Most of the mess was already gone and disposed of, and you whispered to yourself that you could probably deep-clean later that evening after reviewing your presentation.

The ding! of your phone brought your attention back, and you smiled at Zhongli's response.

[ I'll see you then, _____. I appreciate you doing all this for Childe. ]

Received 6:15 AM.

You quickly made your way to your bedroom and grabbed different pieces to throw together a decent outfit. You assumed that Childe wouldn't let you go by the time that your little date would begin, so it's best to be prepared.

You hopped in the shower and did your morning routine, making sure to use your favorite body wash, which happened to be Childe's favorite scent. You dried your hair afterwards and threw on the outfit you prepared earlier. You checked your phone.

6:45 AM.

There weren't any new messages from Childe, so you assumed that he was still asleep. After all, it's his day-off from uni. The lucky bastard got to get one whole day without lectures, and the freest day you had still required you to attend one morning lecture.

"I have to rush to McDonald's if I want to make it in time," You whispered, grabbing your bag and slipping your shoes on before rushing out the door.

You wanted to buy Childe a nice breakfast before heading to your own class. So, you sprinted to the McDonald's just a corner away from your dorm and stood in line. You ordered his favorite breakfast meal: A big breakfast deluxe set with hot chocolate, five-piece nuggets, and a side of apple pie. You also ordered a McGriddle for yourself that you could sneakily bite out of in class.

Childe's apartment was right beside the McDonald's you went to, so it wasn't any trouble reaching where he was. You checked your phone again.

7:10 AM.

Crap. Twenty minutes until your lecture with professor Cyrus. Childe still seemed to be asleep, so you decided to leave his breakfast with the receptionist, Verr Goldet. She already knew who you were because of how often Childe invites you to his apartment.

"I'm really sorry to leave this with you, Verr. But I have to get to class in twenty minutes and I think that Childe is still asleep." You said sheepishly, placing the paper bag on her counter and fiddling with the strap of your bag.

"Oh, _____, you act as if I'm a stranger!" She laughed, taking the paper bag and placing it behind her. "Don't worry, I'll keep it warm for him. Would you like to leave a note?"

"Ah, yes please!" You took a piece of paper and a pen from your bag and scribbled a short message for the ginger.

Happy birthday, Childe! Have a hearty breakfast, I got your favorites. I'll see you later for lunch, okay? I love you! ♡

You tried to make your handwriting as neat as possible, and even added a messy doodle of the man himself. Although, it did look more like a potato than the man you were trying to draw.

"How cute you are." Verr sighed, "It must be nice to feel the wonders of youth."

"Thank you so much, Verr! I really have to get going if I want to get to uni in time."

"You're welcome, _____!"

You bid your farewells and headed out of the apartment's lobby, walking towards the shuttle stop nearest to you. You had at least fifteen minutes before professor Cyrus' class. The shuttle was about ten minutes away from uni, and it would take you a little over five minutes to get to his lecture hall. While waiting for the shuttle, you quickly tapped out a message for your boyfriend.

[ I left something with Verr for you downstairs. You better get it as soon as you wake up ♡ ]

Sent 7:15 AM.

The shuttle arrived as soon as you hit send. You showed your ID to the driver and scrambled for a seat, shoving earbuds in your ears to drown out the rest of the world with a bit of music. Fortunately, the shuttle ride was quicker than usual since there were lesser stops for that day. You gave a light bow to the driver before you rushed out of the shuttle doors and bolted to get to your lecture hall.

It was on the third floor of the left wing of the main building. You were desperately trying to catch your breath as you felt a burn rising in your lungs. You wanted to puke because of how hungry and tired you felt so early in the morning, but you brushed it off.

You sprinted down the hallway to professor Cyrus' lecture hall, seeing that nearly all the seats were occupied. There were still a few vacant seats at the back, but you were glad to see your friend, Xingqiu, waving you over from the middle row.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," You thanked your blue-haired friend, fixing your hair and disheveled clothes. You sat down just in time as professor Cyrus walked into the lecture hall and began setting up his laptop to present.

"No worries. I knew you'd be late. It's Childe's birthday today, no? You've been talking about it all week. I already expected that you'd do something for him this morning." He said, not even batting an eyelash as he carefully opened his laptop in front of him.

"That predictable, huh?" You chuckled, placing your own laptop on the table and taking out the McGriddle you shoved in your bag earlier. Professor Cyrus seemed to be tweaking a few things on his presentation, so you decided to use the spare minutes to eat the sandwich you purchased.

You scarfed it down in a few bites, leaving Xingqiu confused and a bit scared. He thought you were going to choke.

"Didn't you have breakfast before you left your dorm?" He asked, marveling at how you managed to eat the McGriddle in- four, maybe five? bites.

"I mean, I bought this," You said, motioning to the crumpled up wrapper in your hand. "It was getting late since I dropped by Childe's apartment to leave him his breakfast."

"How charming of you, _____." Xingqiu chuckled, slipping on his glasses.

"I wonder if he's awake now," You mumbled, loud enough for Xingqiu to hear, but he didn't react to it.

You opened your phone and saw seven messages from your dorky boyfriend.

[ _____ you're gonna make me cry ]

Sent 7:28 AM.

[ Where are you now? Are you already at uni? ]

Sent 7:29 AM.

[ God, I love you so much, _____! You even got me nuggets!! ]

Sent 7:30 AM.

[ I love you sooo much!! You're so cute it's unreal!! Btw, is this supposed to be me?? Do I really look like that??!! ]

Sent 7:31 AM.

[ I'm so lucky to have you, _____. You really are the sweetest!! ]

Sent 7:31 AM.

[ I'll see you later at noon. I'll pick you up at your dorm, okay? ]

Sent 7:32 AM.

[ You must be in class now. Good luck!! I'm already eating. Thank you so much, darling! I love you!! ♡ ]

Sent 7:34 AM.

You couldn't help but smile at how his aura radiated even through the screen of your phone. You clicked on the notification from Instagram and it opened to a video on Childe's story. It was a boomerang of him making a winky face and then showing his meal neatly placed on his table.

There was a caption beside a heart sticker which read:

What a great way to start my birthday. Thanks to my lovely @_____. I love you so much! ♡

A familiar warmth spread throughout your chest and you couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was. It was amazing, really. Childe's words and actions always had such an effect on you, and it didn't even matter how you were the one who did a romantic gesture for him because you were here all blushy and gushy over his sickeningly sweet messages of affection.

You put your phone away as soon as professor Cyrus soon started his lecture on the different trading policies limited by oversea regulations- or something like that.

The lesson itself was interesting, but you couldn't help to nod off and daydream about your wonderfully dorky boyfriend and his beautiful eyes, his cute button nose, his slim cheeks, his pink lips.

Childe sneezed.

-

As soon as the last bell rang, you quickly gathered your things and shoved them in your bag. You nodded a swift goodbye to Xingqiu before running off to the entrance of the main building.

Zhongli messaged you that his lecture ended earlier than expected, and that he was waiting for you by the entrance already.

You saw the brunette sitting on one of the benches, a thick history book in hand and reading glasses firmly sitting on top of his nose. You noticed a few girls just a couple of feet away from him. They were eyeing him up, probably drinking in the sight of this beautifully constructed creature.

You chuckled. It was common for you to be more aware of people fawning over Childe and Zhongli. They were a couple of incredibly hot males, you knew that. You got used to the sight of other people gawking and eye-fucking your boyfriend and his bestfriend that it was just hilarious and amusing at this point.

"Zhong!" You called, earning the attention of both Zhongli and the group of girls.

"Ah, _____. Glad you're finally here." He closed his book and tucked it away in his satchel (This man owned a satchel) before he stood up to greet you.

"Were you waiting long? Sorry." You said sheepishly.

"No, not at all. I was enthralled by this one chapter on the Ming Dynasty and their more underrated feats. History never fails to amuse me." Zhongli replied, a glint sparkling in his amber eyes.

"Hey, um," You inched yourself closer to him, "Mind if we go on ahead? Some of your fangirls are scaring the hell out of me." From the corner of your eye, you could see how they were drilling holes at your head from staring too hard. You could've sworn one girl was even holding her phone up, as if taking a photo.

"What?" The taller man whipped around to look at the girls and they scurried off upon seeing the intimidating glare in his eyes.

"You and Childe really attract attention everywhere you go, don't you?" You chuckled, walking towards the shuttle station.

"Childe, certainly. He, along with his... fraternity brothers do attract quite the crowd whenever they are together. As for myself, I doubt it. I'm more of the silent-type compared to him, anyway."

"Are you kidding me?" You bit your tongue to hold back the thought.

"I see."

"Those girls look familiar, though." He mentioned.

"Oh? Maybe history majors as well?"

"_____, if they were history majors, I would've at least recognized their faces more clearly. I feel like I've seen them somewhere."

"Ah, my bad. You and your eerily accurate memory." You teased, climbing onto the shuttle and sitting on one of the empty seats.

"It is not eerie, thank you very much." He retorted with a snarky tone, joining you on the seat.

"Of course it isn't. You remember what I said to Childe when we were watching that one movie Rex Lapis: Revenge of the Fallen?"

"Indeed I do. You said, "Rex Lapis would be hot if he was a human, don't you think?" and Childe replied, "Yeah, but I could probably beat him up. I'd be way hotter than him." It was comedy, really. Rex Lapis, although a fictional figure, has far more capabilities than Childe could even dream of."

"Do you... not see the eerie part of that?"

"What? That Childe thinks he can beat up an actual Archon?"

"No... Zhongli, we watched that movie three years ago."

"Your point is?"

"...I can't even remember what I had for lunch yesterday."

"Childe bought you some sushi."

"See what I mean?!"

"That means you have a poor memory, _____." Zhongli laughed at your face curling into a frown. "Anyway, while you were entertaining me with your banter, I recalled why those girls are so familiar."

"Do tell."

"They're part of Childe's posse."

You could've sworn your heart leapt to your throat. You knew that your boyfriend was pretty much sculpted by the Archons themselves, but, really? a fucking posse?

Zhongli noticed how the lump in your throat bobbed, and he decided that it was better to calmly explain how and why he knew about it.

"See, it was during the first year of university. Childe started hanging around Kaeya and his other fraternity brothers. There was this one occasion where Childe was nearly black-out drunk in a bar. If I didn't see on Kaeya's Instagram story, I wouldn't have known," You noticed how Zhongli's face visibly darkened, "These girls were hanging off him like koalas to a strong tree branch. It was unsightly."

"I... see."

"Although he was about to pass out, he pushed them away. Charming, really. He was already crazy about you even during the first year of uni. Even though you weren't together yet, he didn't want to "cheat" on you by entertaining other females." A soft smile made its way to your face upon hearing Zhongli's confession about how your boyfriend felt about you.

"I'm determined to make these cookies a success," You said determinedly.

"Glad to hear it. It seems we're already at your dormitory. You still have enough ingredients for the cookies, right? I assume you failed quite a few times yesterday."

"How did you even know?"

Zhongli once again laughed as you stepped off the shuttle, "Lucky guess."

Unbeknownst to the two of you, three figures were following you the moment you left the campus.

-

"_____ is so sweet! They got my favorite breakfast this morning." Childe mindlessly gushed over his significant other.

Diluc wasn't really one to listen to other people ramble on and on about feelings and love and romance, but it was his friend's birthday. He'd let it slide.

"Bro, that's just gross," Kaeya spat, taking a chug of his beer.

"Oh, shut up, Kaeya. Just because you don't plan on committing to anyone doesn't mean the people around you are obligated to do so as well." Diluc rebutted, without even looking up from his journal.

"You're in college. It's the time when you're supposed to have a shit ton of flings, no commitment. And yet you're here being loyal to _____?" Kaeya glared at Diluc, but the redhead only flipped him off.

"I don't see the problem with that." Childe spoke up, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. It was a gift from you during your first anniversary. You said you made it yourself, and although Childe could purchase all the expensive jewelry and accessories he wanted, this particular bracelet meant more to him than anything.

"The problem is _____'s going to hold you back!" Childe knew that Kaeya was half-drunk and it was still before noon, so he didn't really take his words seriously. "They aren't going to the party later, right?"

"No, unfortunately. They have to review a presentation for professor An's class."

"Hah! Review my ass. If I knew any better, that little toy of yours is just messing around with some other dude."

"Watch yourself." Childe stood up from his seat. He knew that Kaeya disapproved of their relationship because it wasn't really a "frat-boy" thing, but he didn't care about that. He cared about you more than a stupid reputation, and definitely more than a stupid lifestyle of partying, getting high, and getting drunk.

"Back up, softie. _____'s pussyness rubbing of on 'ya?" Kaeya's words were slurred, but Childe knew that there was malicious intent behind them.

"Look, I don't care about what you say about me. Call me a softie? Call me a pussy? I don't really give a shit. But the moment you start shitting on my _____? Don't even consider that I'd just stand around and let them be slandered, you piece of fuck." Childe was a few centimeters taller than Kaeya, and he always used that to his advantage when he wanted Kaeya to understand his point.

"Whatever you fucking say. It's your birthday, I'm not gonna fight with you on your birthday." Kaeya lightly pushed Childe away from him before downing the rest of the beer can in his hand.

"Don't mind him," Diluc spoke, staring into Childe's eyes. "He never thinks straight, whether drunk or sober."

"Yeah, I kinda got the message." The ginger chuckled, watching as Kaeya nearly tripped over his own feet while walking towards the case of beer supposedly for the party tonight.

"I'm glad that you and _____ are still getting along. It's refreshing to see normal people once in a while."

"Well, when you put it that way." Childe could only laugh.

"Where's the tall brunette at? Isn't he always with you?"

"Ah, you mean Zhongli? I don't know, actually. He has a lecture this morning and I wanted to meet him for a light meal before lunch, but he isn't answering my texts."

"I see."

As if on cue, Childe's phone emitted a soft ding!

He typed in his password and the screen faded into a photo of you. You were wearing one of his hoodies (it was way too big on you) and he could've fainted because of how absolutely adorable you looked.

He received a few Instagram DMs from Ellin. Ellin was a member of their posse. Childe would rather refer to them as "fraternity friends", but she insisted otherwise.

[ You're seriously praising _____ for being a good partner? Poor you, dear. ]

Received 9:41 AM.

He frowned.

[ What are you talking about? Mind your business. ]

Sent 9:42 AM.

[ Oh? It's not my business, sure. But you might wanna see this. ]

Received 9:44 AM.

[ 3 Images Attached ]

Received 9:44 AM.

Childe's eyes widened. Ellin sent three photos.

The first one was a photo of you and Zhongli standing awfully close to each other in front of the university's main building.

The second one was of you and Zhongli sitting beside each other in the shuttle.

The last one was... you and Zhongli entering your dormitory building.

"What the..."

He checked his messages to see if either you or Zhongli texted him about the ordeal. However, he was only greeted by messages wishing him a happy birthday from some of his family and friends back in their hometown. No messages from Zhongli, and no new ones from you.

"What the hell?"

He quickly typed out a message for his bestfriend. He didn't jump to conclusions; He trusted both of you, but what was this feeling in his gut? It felt icky, gross, and disgusting.

[ Where are you rn? Answer me. ]

Sent 9:46 AM.

His foot tapped against the floor at a rapid pace. Diluc wanted to question him, but the worried look on the ginger's face made him bite his tongue.

Childe wasn't the type of person to jump to conclusions, nor was he the type of person to get upset immediately over trivial things. But upon receiving an irksome reply from the amber-eyed bestfriend he knew and love, his blood began to boil.

[ None of your business. ]

Received 10:05 AM.

[tanadrin]

Something it may be of interest to watch in German politics come the 26th is the result of the Berlin housing expropriation referendum.

Berlin is a city of renters in a nation of renters, with about 80% of the population renting their homes; compare 60% in New York. For decades now, the German population has been concentrating more heavily in the cities, and, as in cities all over the world, housing is a hot-button issue. German law limits how quickly rents can rise, but discontent from tenants has been increasing regardless. The SPD-Linke-Green city government tried to impose an additional state-level rent cap (Berlin is a city-state like Hamburg and Bremen), but this was ruled unconstitutional by the federal courts, to general irritation of everybody except the landlords who got back rent. This cap only applied to older buildings and was devised in part (so I am given to understand) to make purely speculative property investment in Berlin unattractive: the logic, according to one SPD representative I saw quoted, seemed to be that because a lot of the speculation driving up housing prices was premised on a certain necessary minimum of returns, had the rent cap been able to remain in effect long term, it would have made the city unattractive enough to real estate speculators to help rent stabilize. And since the Mietendeckel didn’t cover new construction, it was apparently hoped by its drafters it would not disincentivize practical investment in housing.

(The city government has also been pursuing the construction of new housing as a way to relieve housing prices, but believes new housing alone is not enough. But part of the political discussion around the Mietendeckel was whether new construction really helps reduce rents, the so-called “seepage effect.” As part of building new housing, the SPD, CDU, and FDP want to develop parts of Tempelhofer Feld, the former airport-turned-city-park, which the Greens, Die Linke, and, er, the AfD oppose. This is contrary to the results of a 2014 referendum against developing the Feld, but it’s also not clear that the city as a whole is that opposed to the idea, in part because of rising rents.)

Anyway, in the wake of the whole Mietendeckel debacle, some citizens started gathering signatures for a new referendum, for a law permitting the outright expropriation of the holdings of any real estate company that owns more than 3,000 apartments. This could reverse the sweeping privatizations of the city’s public housing in the 90s and naughties, and is also aimed at companies like Deutsche Wohnen, who own huge amounts of housing, as well as companies like the Pears Group, which is responsible for the demise of a beloved neighborhood bar. It is also, perhaps, an atavistic lashing-out; the referendum specifies that the companies expropriated will be compensated at below market value. Nor is this cloaked in more neutral language like “nationalization” or “expanding public housing.” It is expropriation, and the organizers do not pretend otherwise. Naturally, most mainstream parties are opposed, and the lawyers of real estate companies argue it wouldn’t even be constitutional. Some say this is merely a ploy, to give the state government more leverage.

Except... it might not be. Unconstitutional, that is, or a ploy: Article 15 of the Basic Law (which has never been used) sets out the terms under which means of production and land can be expropriated by the state, and Article 14 specifies only that expropriations have to take into account “public good” when setting the amount of compensation. There is nary a mention of “market value,” or “fair price,” or anything like that. And even if the referendum doesn’t originate with the city government, I cannot help but feel there would be enormous pressure on the city to use that newfound power, if the citizens voted for it.

Me, I like public housing. I think the privatizations of the 90s and 00s were a mistake, and I think cities like Vienna with a lot of public housing are on the right track. I don’t know if the Mietendeckel was a good idea, especially because it was so quickly challenged and overturned, but I cannot help but feel that if city governments like Berlin’s do not do more on the issue of housing, proposals like this expropriation referendum will come to be seen as milder alternatives to yet more drastic measures. Between low interest rates causing capital to chase higher and higher returns in more markets, aided by the globalization of finance, population growth and changes in distribution of the population, how cities encourage or regulate new development, or some other set of factors, I can’t say what, exactly, is driving rent increases in various cities or what the ideal policy solutions would be. But if this referendum passes--a truly socialist piece of policy relying on a forgotten constitutional article drafted in a far more socialism-friendly era--it will be extremely interesting to see how both state and federal politicians react.

[burgundyhaven]

Send Her to Me: Teen! Kit Walker x Reader

Description: basically high school kit walker is trying to ask y/n out to the dance but everytime he tries to ask her out he keeps on missing her so he asks for his friends to send her to him

Word count: 1,702

Warnings: cursing, fluff? Nothing else that I can think of :)

A/n: I had a lot of fun making this, I’ve been in my 60s/70s phase as of recent so I’ve been listening to a lot of 60s garage rock and this is inspired by “send her to me” by the dark knights which is amazing you should go check the song out expeditiously. This is taking place in November of 1957 btw :)))) enjoy!!! Sorry if this is messy I finished writing this at 3:48 am  which explains lots of the spelling and punctuation errors it’s whatever 

Link to send her to me by the dark knights-https://youtu.be/BJKQks4neiI

It was November of 1957 and it was Kit Walkers final year of high school

He just wanted the stress of all of the work and uncertain future to be over

But there was one thing he would miss, you

He’s had a huge crush on you ever since you were in 9th grade, but only now worked up the courage to ask you out

You were putting your things away in your locker when you saw kit coming towards you

“Hey y/n”

“Oh- hi kit! what class you got next?”

“History. you?”

“English”

“Oh- uh… cool”

“Yeah.cool?” you chuckled

“Um-“

“Yeah?”

“Would you want to-“ he stops for a while

“Would I want to what?”

“Would you want to-“

he gets cut off by a loud bell

“Sorry! I gotta go i can’t be late again that’ll be three days in a row, catch you after this class though?”

“Oh. yeah sure” Kit says almost whispering and looking down at his shoes after waving at you

He went to history, though his attention was on the clock waiting for the next chance to see you

Finally, the bell rang and he went right to your locker, but…you weren’t there

He didn’t know, but you just didn’t need to go to your locker that class, but he knew he’d be able to talk to you in lunch

He went to his friends and asked them if they would send a message for him. He knew at least two of them had that class with you

“Hey- hold on wait, Jimmy tell y/n to meet me at the 6th lunch table, I keep on missing her at hall time”

“What for?”

“Nothing I just wanted to talk to her, if you don’t have her class next ask Henry I know he has the same class as her right now”

“Alright good luck… on whatever crazy shit your doing”

“Yeah thanks” he chuckled and looked down at his shoes

You were in your class when you saw one of Kits friends walking into your class, which was normal. But, he never talked to you in particular

He approached you and spoke quickly and quietly

“Kit wants you to meet him at the sixth table in the cafeteria in lunchtime”

“Why”

“I don’t know? He didn’t give a reason”

“Alright… thanks”

*45 minutes later*

Finally, it was lunchtime and he spotted you sitting alone in the corner of the cafeteria,where he told you to meet him

He walked over to the table and sat right in front of you

“Hey what’re you doing here all alone again”

you smiled and put a strand of hair behind your ear

“Sorry about forgetting to tell you i wouldn’t be at my locker, i forgot i didn’t need any books for my class after english”

“no don’t worry about it it’s fine”

“So what did you wanna tell me kit?”

“Oh,uh i wanted to actually show you something”

He walked over and dragged his lunch to your side and sat down

He pulled out a photo from his bag

“Here it is”

He slid the photo to your side

“Oh my god Kit! That’s us! God we were so little” you laughed

“But- how’d you find these i thought you lost all your pictures in the move”

“Yeah, but we found a tin inside of the box with my moms clothes and it had all my baby photos and stuff like that”

“You got any more?”

“Yeah, If you wanna come over afterschool and I could look through them with you. I haven’t gotten a chance to see them all yet?”

“Yeah, of course! we’d have to walk though, i can’t go alone”

“yeah that’s no problem,meet me by the front of the school at around 2:00?”

“K, see you then”

He knew this was going to work perfectly, you would be thinking about the past you guys had and then he’d ask you out and you would just have to say yes

2:00 came and you were out in front waiting for about 8 minutes, he was a little late but he came out eventually

“Sorry i kept you waiting so long. That son of a bitch Mr. Wells made me stay after class for not finishing the test in time”

“No don’t worry it’s okay,it’s only 2:08 you didn’t keep me waiting for that long” you said while smiling at him

“Alright,let’s go- wait did you call

your house and tell them you were coming over?”

“ Uh-yeah I told my mom i’d be home a little late and i’d be at your place for school”

“For school?”

“She wouldn’t let me at any guys house if it wasn’t school related,even though she’s known you since you were born”

“Makes sense” he laughs and looks at you

The cold november breeze made you start to shiver and you put your books close to your chest but it was no use

Kit noticed you were getting cold and gave you his jacket, and even though you told him you weren’t cold, he knew you just didn’t want to seem like you needed anything, so he put it on you anyways

you made it to his house and he got his key out

you went in and his parents weren’t home

His dad was at work, and his mom left a note saying she wouldn’t be home until around 8 as she was out running errands

“Well i guess this is my house for the after noon” he said smiling

You laughed and smiled back

You asked if he wanted his jacket back, but he said you could keep it, so you put it on completely

“So,you wanna eat anything?”

“No, thanks though”

“I’ll go get the box then wait here”

You sat on the couch and heard him coming down shortly after you touched down on the seat cushion

“got it!”

you sat on the floor and the both of you looked through the box and uncovered dozens of forgotten memories

“Oh my god that was your 12th birthday”Kit said pointing to a photo from 1952

“Look at this one we were babies here!” you pulled out the photo form the small stack

“Kit is that you?” you pointed to a picture of him in a bathtub as a baby

He grabbed it and slid the photo under the couch

“No uh- thats my cousin. You won’t see him much because he’s- twice removed? Yeah”

“Yeah sure. don’t be embarrassed you were cute”

“Yeah whatever” he rolled his eyes

“It’s so crazy that we’ve known each other literally since we were born” you say still looking at the pictures

“Well technically…i’m older by a month so since you were born” Kit whispers

“You’re only older because you were born premature” you patted him on the back while getting up to go to the couch

He got up to sit next to you and turned on the tv for background noise

He scooted in closer to you and eventually you found that he had his arm wrapped around you and you were falling asleep

“hey it’s only 4:15, wake up” he tapped your shoulder

“Yeah i know- i just went to bed super late last night and i-“

“No it’s fine- do you want me to drive you home i could use the extra one we have”

“no i uh- i like it here it’s quiet, plus i can’t sleep now. I won’t be able to make it to school tomorrow”

“y/n. Its Friday ?”

“Oh.yeah well still”

“Okay nevermind” kit faintly laughed

You got up to get a snack as you hadn’t eaten for quite some time,then went right back to the couch

You sat crossed on the floor, looking right at the pictures on the wall

You observed all of them, specifically just seeing how much he’s changed over the years

He suddenly spoke out of nowhere

“Hey, so you heard about that senior ball the schools havin in a couple weeks”

“Yeah what about It?”

“You uh- planning on going”

“Probably, I just don’t really have anyone to go with”

“If you want, I could take you. I- I mean it doesn’t have to be like as a date or anything we could’ve go as friends if you wa-“

You hugged him and stopped him from saying anything else

“Thank you so much kit,I didn’t wanna have to go alone.And… yes we could go as a date ”

“Really?” He scratched his neck

You nodded and looked at him for a while, contemplating what you were going to do

You kissed him, out of nowhere

Now, you had just had your first kiss, and he had just had his

It was extremely awkward afterwards, you both just stared at each other and didn’t know what to say

“So uh- what’re we gonna wear” you said, still being in front of him as you were after you kissed him

“ Uhhh- i”

“we could match?” You started to get up to leave

“Yeah, we could match “ he spoke breathily

“I- uh, I gotta go my moms probably worried sick about me it’s” 

you look down to check your watch 

“7:15!”

“I could drive you and take the spare car? It’s kinda cold out”

“Oh yeah thanks sure “

The short 7 minute drive was quiet but lovely and you couldn’t help but stare at him for the whole car ride

You arrived home and quickly  walked to the door

You rang the doorbell and your mom opened the door, she looked pretty pissed but nothing over the top

You turned around and Kit was still there in the car, and your mom moved away from the door

You walked back a little closer to the where his car was  and he said “ come by my place tommorow … for school”

You laughed quietly and whispered “yeah for school… goodnight kit”

“Goodnight”

And he drove away into the distance, back to his house

You went to your room, and got ready for bed, and all you could think about was Kit and the wonderful day you had with him. And about the wonderful day you would have with him tomorrow

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 04

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Action-y in that there is offscreen violence and peril, injuries, talk of surgery and symptoms/effects of medical grade narcotics (morphine), more on that big ol’ age difference. Side notes: Agent Anderson of the L.A. field office has no relation to Agent Anderson of Quantico, VA, because Agent Anderson of the BAU is a national treasure. (I’m considering going back and renaming the OC, but as of right now this is the last we hear of him for a while). And I know no one really pays attention to them, but the time stamps on the texts match the time zone of the scene setting. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 8893

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 04

--

Late September 2010

--

Spencer Reid wakes up to the early grey morning two weeks later, a perpetual haze shrouding his room long before his alarm was supposed to rouse him. He reaches blindly, blearing eyed and checks his phone for what feels like the hundredth time, only to find no messages waiting for him. A terrible, horrid feeling has been clawing at his chest and throat the longer it gets -- the more time that passes -- and he still hasn’t heard from Hotch. 

They’ve been messaging each other near constantly for months now, and it only seemed to get more intense after that fateful talk at the beginning of September. Where Hotch finally revealed he’d thought Spencer was much older than him, and not the other way around. Spencer had set him straight, as much as he could, and even that had been nerve-wracking to say the least. The two men were crossing into a territory neither really wanted to put a label on, and Spencer was both afraid of it and excited by it. Of what it could mean, and how long it could last, but he’d thought he’d had time to figure out a solution to his inadvertent secrecy.

Then, Hotch began working a case in Delaware two days ago. 

It seemed like a textbook unsub; maybe a little aggressive with anti-establishment overtones, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Nothing the BAU hasn’t seen before. They’d been closing in on the suspect, no location yet but some prospects that needed checking out, and the last Spencer had heard from Hotch…

It had been lunchtime for him, and midafternoon for the older man. The exchange hadn’t been anything of consequence, just their usual, easy correspondence. Hotch was going to check out that lead they’d spoken of, Spencer had a budget meeting as soon as he was done eating in the middle of his office hours, and they had a plan to play chess online that night. Hotch is still terrible at it, but he keeps coming back no matter how thoroughly Spencer wipes the floor with him. Now, sometimes they just forget about the game entirely after the first few minutes. It makes him smile each and every time, soft and fond and lighting a warmth inside him Spencer has… never felt before. 

Then Hotch hadn’t messaged him the rest of the night.

Hadn’t shown up online to play chess.

Hadn’t texted him goodnight, or even sent him an update on the case. 

Nothing in their conversations warranted such ostracization, and although Spencer has been ‘ghosted’ before (as his doctoral students would say) he knows Hotch would never do that. Not after everything, the history they’ve built the past months -- leaving nothing but the dread to sink in and spread like a stain.

All night, he imagines the worst.

By morning, he all but expects it.

--

[]9/22, 18:59[] Are you alright? Did something happen with the case?

[]9/22, 19:10[] If you were that scared of losing at chess, I can also beat you at online poker instead.

[]9/22, 19:30[] I’d suggest scrabble but that’s honestly not fair to you.

[]9/22, 21:55[] Hotch? 

[]9/22, 22:30[] I’m assuming that lead panned out, and you caught your unsub and are neck deep in interrogation.

[]9/22, 22:36[] I don’t want to imagine anything else, so that’s what I will picture.

[]9/23, 00:06[] Hotch please answer me. 

[]9/23, 05:32[] Please be okay.

--

Spencer arrives at Caltech looking a little more of a mess than usual. More than most are used to seeing him, at least, and it causes a few second glances from students he passes and other faculty -- but he really can’t find it in himself to care, this morning. His unruly curls, getting longer again, falling into his face and over his ears, are frizzy in their unkemptness. Bags under his eyes, normal, but he’s settled for glasses instead of his contacts. He has a spare pair in his desk, he’ll have to change them before class. His glasses somehow always make him look even younger. A mystery that boggles the mind, because once he had grown into his face a few years ago (around 26 or 27, close enough he had worried he would forever be cursed with a ‘baby face’) Spencer had thought he would finally be getting away from that. 

And yet, square jaw and ‘grandpa’ glasses and thin frame towering just over six feet did nothing in the slightest to aid him. Certainly not stopping a man outside the campus coffee shop from shouting “Watch where you’re going, kid!” as he near barrels over him on the sidewalk. Not his sweater vest or half suits, attire straight out of a 1940’s noir film (he’d even sported a vintage inspired undercut with his waves combed over for a while there, too. Way too much upkeep, as nice as it looked). Nothing makes him any more grown up in the eyes of the unsuspecting world, than he’d been without his five doctorates and board of director’s seat. No matter what he tried, it seems.

This has been a subliminal thing for years, something Spencer always said didn’t bother him in the slightest. And for a long time he didn’t care one way or the other, he just kept getting more degrees. All his life Spencer has been ‘too young’, always been ‘kid’ or ‘sport’ or ‘tiger’, even when running quantum physics equations in his head. And it didn’t matter. Not with his credentials and accomplishments and everything he now has to his name.

Until Hotch.

Now, Spencer cares.

Notices, even through his haze of worry and sleeplessness, how on the street it’s “Watch it, kid!” and fifteen yards later it’s “Good morning, Dr. Reid” as he steps into the Physics building where everyone knows him on sight. Knows him, and what he’s capable of. 

What if when Hotch met him all he saw was… another kid? 

If they ever met.

“Whoa, rough night Dr. Reid?” 

“Yes, you could say that,” he mumbles out as he signs in and scans his ID card, taking the stack of mail that the desk attendant hands him. But stops before he gets too far from the desk, backtracking. “Hey, have you watched the news this morning? Did anything show up about New England or Delaware?”

“Not that I saw, Dr. Reid,” she says in confusion, looking up from where she had been texting on her phone. “Just a whole lot of coverage on the shitshow at capital hill, as usual. Oh, and more depressing reports about the earthquake clean-up in New Zealand.” 

Of course, why would there be a news story about a killer in Delaware here in California. He’d have to look up everything online himself. 

“Thanks anyway, Carla.”

“No problem, Dr. Reid.”

-

Spencer spends way too long online that morning, searching for anything about the case Hotch and his team are working. He usually prefers paper copies of news media, at first barely knowing where to begin, but he falls into a wormhole of news outlets and local Delaware station websites, reading the thousands of webpages faster than he can scroll and click through them. But he can’t find anything pointing to a disturbance related to the case. There's nothing about a raid, or a shooting, or even an arrest -- which could all just be a part of the ongoing media blackout -- but it also does nothing to stop him from panicking. Spencer gives up after an hour, and diverts to other resources. Ones with a direct line to Hotch. 

With a drafted email pulled up to Ms. Penelope Garcia, the BAU's personal tech analyst, he ponders how to... even word this without it sounding too personal. Too much like he and Hotch have more than just a working relationship.

Because they do. They have... something.

Something that gives him fluttering sensations in his stomach, makes him check his phone constantly, and react to even the slightest chime similar to his text tone. Makes him smile when he sees Hotch's name on his notifications, in his email inbox, makes him message the man in the middle of the day at the most random thoughts. Just because he wants to make him laugh.

[]8/21, 15:36[] You're going to get me in trouble.

[]8/21, 15:38[] You didn’t laugh in front of your team, did you? The scandal.

[]8/21, 15:42[] I'm at a crime scene. There's a dead body in front of me.

[]8/21, 15:43[] Then why are you checking your phone?

[]8/21, 15:45[] You know why.

But that’s not something that is shared with the rest of the team, he’s sure. So he should be careful how he words his email, lest Ms. Garcia realize that Spencer isn’t asking purely as a colleague. 

Surely they know he has friends, though?

Chewing his lip, Spencer types out a brief email asking if Agent Hotchner is feeling well since he missed an appointment the night before and hasn’t been returning his calls. It’s a phrase he’s used often, so it comes naturally to Spencer as he types it out, and he realizes… he hasn’t called. He’s sent a dozen text messages, but not a phone call. Never a phone call. That was against the rules, the unspoken ones that always kept this friendship easy and free-flowing and evolving into something more.

But this feels like the closest to an emergency they’ve ever encountered before.  

He looks to his phone beside him on his desk, and tries to fight back the dueling forms of panic clawing at his chest. Listed in bullet points behind his eyes. Panic that Hotch might not answer, panic what that means for the man he’s been… becoming more and more inclined to than any other person he’s met in so long. Panic if he does answer, breaking that barrier of written words to spoken, and the opportunity to hear Hotch’s voice. But he would also hear Spencer’s, and then there would be no hiding just how… how young he really is. He still didn’t have a plan for that, wracking his overworked brain day and night for a way to incorporate the information into a conversation that wouldn’t stop everything in its tracks. 

But his phone is in his hand before he can stop himself, Hotch’s contact pulled up and his thumb hovering over the phone number with baited breath. 

Was he really going to do this?

He presses the touch screen and can hear the line connecting, the dial tone ring even before he gets the phone up to his ear and waits. It rings, and rings, and rings a fourth time -- before clicking over to voicemail. And Spencer’s hyper-fast thought processes fail him as he realizes far too late that he’s going to hear Hotch’s voice for the first time, anyway. Frozen in a panic, unsure if he wants to or if that had been something he wanted them to do together that the seconds slip by like water through his fingers and suddenly it’s too late.

“You’ve reached the voicemail box of -- (703)-567-8790 -- this caller is not available. Please leave a message after the tone--”

It’s an automated, female voice that rattles off the numbers and generic call back message, and Spencer hangs up before it can begin recording him. Exhaling a shaky breath, relief a flash flood on his nerves that nothing had been ruined between him and Hotch thanks to an ill-timed phone call. 

He keeps the momentum going without much thought, and adjusts his email to Ms. Garcia before sending it. 

It feels so understated, and yet over dramatic the more he thinks about it. The more he reads it.

.

Please let me know of his well-being.

.

God, no wonder Hotch thought he was in his 60’s. 

But Spencer has to keep the façade up, for now, not give away anything he doesn’t want to just because the emotional part of his brain is running rampant over the rational one. There are… many explanations as to why Hotch isn’t answering him. His gut feeling aside, he doesn’t need to be panicking like this. The world is still turning, he still has work to do, so Spencer tries to gather himself into some semblance of order and preps to talk to his doctoral students within the hour.

--

His morning routine progresses as usual, as if nothing at all is wrong with the world. Dr. Reid has his mandatory round up with his doctoral candidates going over thesis and dissertation parameters, class lecture schedules, updates, the works. Like morning announcements, but he requires them all to be there and to listen, and they all show up. Everyone knows of Spencer’s eidetic memory. He will certainly not forget a single date or schedule change, and he expects his students to not forget as well. 

But this morning Spencer is fully distracted, his mind elsewhere, somewhere in the state of Delaware with an agent who may or may not be in danger. Because Spencer cannot shake the feeling that something is wrong. It almost seems more like a fact than a feeling. The juxtaposition of his daily routine and this unfounded worry throws him entirely off kilter, and all of his students seem to know right away. 

Then, his distraction reaches its peak when his email pings, right in the middle of his department announcements. A response from Ms. Garcia of Quantico, VA flashing across his laptop screen. Spencer’s eyes skim the preview sentence in the pop-up box, and his voice trails off as his mind… whirls. 

.

Dr. Reid, I’m sorry to tell you I don’t know when Hotch will be available again. There was an incident, and he’s still in surg-

.

Surgery.

Surgery.

That vice-like grip of worry that has taken hold of him since last night tightens further, to the point Spencer can’t breathe. Hotch is in surgery, Hotch is hurt, and if he hasn’t been answering his phone since last night -- or even late yesterday afternoon -- it was not a minor thing.

Hotch is hurt. 

She doesn’t know when he will be--

If he will be --

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay?”

“I--” he’s still looking at the email pop-up box, and is clicking on it before he can stop himself. Immediately disconnecting his laptop from the projector as his email loads there. It takes him a fraction of a second to read the email. “I’m sorry, an emergency just came up. Kimmy, finish reading off the schedule for me?” He doesn’t even wait until she answers him, just picks up his laptop and retreats to his office as fast as his long legs will carry him.

.

--surgery and we’re still waiting on word. I know you 2 talk on the reg so I’ll keep you posted. 

Fret not, genius professor, our fearless leader has been through much worse than this.

.

She’s using informal speech patterns, which she has never done before. It bleeds her nervousness, and worries Spencer even more. Teetering on the edge of panic. Ms. Garcia also revealed she knows he and Hotch talk, but surprisingly that doesn’t have the effect he thought it would on his already rattled nerves. Instead, any and all reservations fall away as he types out a response much in the same way he and Hotch had started their friendship all those months ago.

.

Please, is there anything you are allowed to tell me about the case or his condition? We --

.

Spencer pauses, bites his lip as he considers crossing this boundary into the uncomfortable unknown, and then thinks about Hotch on a hospital operating table three thousand miles away.

“Screw it,” he mutters and continues to type.

.

--We’ve become good friends and I’m very worried.

.

The reply is almost immediate.

.

That makes 2 of us, boy wonder, but I’m already hacked into the hospital records database and Prentiss is in the waiting room for any immediate actions.

I’m sending you the case files and the incident report from last night. Maybe you can see some shiz we can’t b/c the bossman is tough but he’s been in surgery a long time. 

.

Of course, whatever he can do to help. Spencer’s heavy heart-beat triples in his chest as pulls up the files and immediately prints them out so he can read through them faster. Utilizing anything and everything he can do to aid the BAU team, and whatever Hotch has gotten himself into. But then, his mind sticks on something from the email. Boy Wonder. It stalls his hands mid-movement.

Ms. Garcia knows how young he is.

She must have done a background check on him, that would make sense since he’s been consulting so much lately. But why would Garcia know his age, and not Hotch? Wouldn’t she send the files to him directly? Had Hotch really known, all along?

Or did she do it on her own, and not tell him? Assuming her boss already knew everything about him. It’s too many questions and possibilities and they are interfering with what’s most important right now. Best to get it out of the way, no time to be indirect about it.

.

Ms. Garcia, did you update my dossier with the bureau after you ran my background check?

.

If you’re referring to why Hotch seems to think you’re rocking the senior discount at restaurants and not still getting carded for beer, then no I didn’t update it. I’m very anti-gov files having every detail of our lives in them, that’s what   I’m for, and I figured there was a reason he didn’t know. Your secret is safe with me, sugar bean.

.

Spencer hadn’t meant for it to be a secret at all, it just happened that way. 

The real reason is Agent Anderson of the LA field office is a dick, with a bully streak he never outgrew after high school, and didn’t bother filling out a full file on him the first time Spencer consulted for the FBI. Then, he couldn’t be bothered to update it when his consultations became more than a one time thing.

But that was all in the past now, and Spencer can’t even be upset about it. Because now he has Hotch.

.

Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I’ll let you know my findings soon.

.

He skims the file quickly, pulling information out at lightning speed. It appears a very straight-forward case. As straight-forward as a murderous sociopath can be, anyway. Very anti-establishment, like he and Hotch had discussed the previous day, aiming for specified targets that devolved to anyone in a uniform. Anyone who appears too official, or labels as official. 

It’s easy to see, now, why the unsub attacked Hotch instead of running from him. He practically served himself up on a silver platter. But there’s something about the kills that’s bothering Spencer. The knife wounds, bludgeoning, even the gunshots during the first murders when the unsub still hesitated -- it’s all overkill. Rage. Every single target has died from massive internal bleeding, M.E. reports all label the knife wounds and beatings as the cause. But the amount of blood left over, measured during autopsy, doesn’t add up. They bled too much. No wounds indicating intentional bleeding occurred, and the tox screens are all clean. 

Except, every victim’s hospital records show elevated potassium rates. Spencer’s hands, skimming down each and every page quick as they can, stop on a dime as his gaze zero in on the information. 

“Oh, God,” Spencer whispers, quiet and horrified. “--Hotch.”

There’s no time for email.

He picks up his phone, goes to an older email that has full contact details in the footer, and dials Ms. Garcia’s direct line in Quantico.

“Speak, and behold greatness.”

“Ms. Garcia, it’s Dr. Reid,” Spencer says, and his tone and quickened speech patterns gives way to his panic.

“Dr-- Dr.  Reid?” 

“Yes, quick there’s no time. Do you have Hotch’s hospital records in front of you still?” 

“Yes,” Garcia says, her voice a musical thing even in it’s breathless reaction to his heightened state of haste. “Updated every two minutes.”

“Is his potassium elevated?”

Some quick typing of keys that move faster than even he could ever hope to type. “...Yes.”

God. “Okay, okay I need you to call the hospital right now,” Spencer says in a spiel that all sounds like one word. “Whatever you have to do, he needs Sodium Polystyrene Sulfonate as soon as possible, to counteract the chemical imbalance or he’s going to go into kidney failure and bleed out.” 

There’s more typing going on and Ms. Garcia’s breathing has gone a little labored.

“Alright, alright I’m getting patched through. What else can you tell me?”

“I think he’s been dosed with something called an XG Compound, either Eastman or Zhao I have to look up the specific components and chemist. But they are a series of banned, experimental military-grade drugs that suffer effects of thinning the blood, that’s why they can’t stop the bleeding around his stab wounds and old scar tissue.” Hotch’s old wounds from Foyet would only exacerbate the condition, once it reached the kidney failure stage, but up until then the intrusions of hardened tissue is the only reason his abdominal cavity hasn’t been flooded with blood and drowned out his other organs. 

“Okay, okay I’m through, I’m keeping you on the line. Stand by-- ” then she clicks over and he’s left with a pulsating silence. Nothing remaining but continuing his work, and hoping he’d called in time. Hoping that Hotch will be alright.

--

Spencer is digging through his floor to ceiling bookshelves for the biology book on airborne pathogens given to him by a visiting Professor two years ago and he is hating himself for never cracking it in that moment. It’s nearly the last book he gets a hand on, because of course it is, and he makes it a third of the way through the book before Garcia is back on the line. The phone on the floor beside him and just barely within reach. 

“You literal genius, I could kiss you,” Garcia tells him in what can only be overstated relief, and Spencer snatches up his phone with a very undignified scramble. “They’ve had to do two transfusions on him and are prepping a third, but you were right he’s been dosed with that XG compound.”

“He’s going to be okay?” Spencer asks, still cross-legged on his office floor surrounded by books and holding his phone to his ear like a lifeline.

“Yes, yes my dear he’s going to be alright. They think. He’s not out of the woods yet and the surgery is still going on, but he -- he would have died within the next hour if you hadn’t found out what was wrong.”

Spencer’s heart is in his throat, her words doing the exact opposite of reassuring him. Hotch had been that close to dying, to being forever out of reach, because Spencer had been too scared to pick up the phone. 

“I should have called sooner,” he says, so quiet even someone in the room wouldn’t have heard him correctly. “I knew something was wrong.”

“Oh no, sugar don’t think like that. You just saved his life,” she pauses, like she wants to say something else, but diverts to an adjacent topic. “How did you know?”

“Autopsy reports. There wasn’t enough blood left in the bodies, they bled out too quickly. Then I saw the elevated Potassium,” he murmurs it all, rattled off without really thinking about it.

“And you just… knew all of that, without looking anything up?”

“That’s basically what I do. The only reason anyone calls me,” Spencer laughs but it holds no humor. “I know too much, make connections, and drink too much coffee.” 

“You drink and know things, oh God I hope you get that reference because you’re getting a coffee mug.”

Spencer laughs a little, despite the situation, and feels… lighter, somehow, even with the worry still plaguing him. Caught up in his chest like a bad cold. 

“I’m reading this textbook on airborne pathogens, I have a hunch, and I’ll send you anything I find that can help with the case,” Spencer continues, his voice not so heavy for a moment. “Just… tell me when he’s out of surgery? Keep me posted?”

“Of course, honey, you’ll be my first message,” Ms. Garcia assures him, but then she pauses again -- and he almost hangs up because it feels too anticipatory. “You should tell him, B.T.Dubs.”

Spencer hesitates more than is probably necessary.

“... I don’t know what good that will do,” he admits, quiet and unsure. “I’m not -- I’m not ready for this to be over.”

“You’re not that young, honey. Does he know you like him?”

“Mmhmm,” Spencer makes a nervous, affirmative sound. “And… he likes me, or who he thinks I am.”

“Don’t write him off just yet, Doc, let him speak for himself when he wakes up,”  Ms. Garcia all but scolds him, in as gentle a way as possible and Spencer appreciates that, at least. 

“--I’ll think about it.” 

--

Not long after Spencer finds what he’s looking for: military grade poisons that were banned for causing adverse effects, listed and categorized by chemist and agency. It is the Eastman compound, originated during the first invasion of Afghanistan. Their unsub has prolonged exposure, Spencer is sure, and that will narrow down the suspect pool immensely.

After he sends the information to Ms. Garcia, Spencer looks to his phone once more, where there is a block of text all from him himself in his correspondence with Hotch. Begging him to be alright, to answer him, and now that he knows that the man has a fighting chance -- or as much of one as he will be able to have, with where advanced medicine resides in the current conjecture of time -- there really isn’t much he can do now. But hope. And wait. And pray.

Except Spencer doesn’t believe in prayer, or God, or anything that might hear him. The only thing he really believes in is science, and facts, and none of that is very helpful to him right now. Except maybe the coincidental balance of the universe, in a theoretical physics sense, and unexplained phenomenon that have an equal and spatial balance to it. Anything with the descriptor ‘unexplained’ always draws him in like a moth to flame, and he knows he can typically find a semblance of comfort in the way his brain constantly connects dots and far off specks of information that not everyone can see at first glance. Constellations in the sky. But only when he has someone to tell it to, that even pretends to listen for a moment, and for a long while now… Hotch has been that someone. Hotch always listens to him.

Before he knows it, he’s typing into the text box once more --

[]9/23, 11:10[] You’re in surgery still, but Ms. Garcia has confirmed the treatments are working and they are able to actually repair the damage instead of treading water like they have been the past ten hours. I’ve had her personally in contact with the doctors and surgical staff, and all they’ve been able to tell us is to let them work and just pray for you.

[]9/23, 11:13[] Which is such an odd thing; men of science telling people to pray like the outcome of a surgery isn’t in their hands, but some theoretical astronomical entity. I know it’s probably just a ‘bedside-manner’ tactic, but it doesn’t help me in the slightest so it just irks me instead.

[]9/23, 11:15[] I don’t believe in prayer -- a shock, I’m sure -- but I do believe in the phenomenon of universal affirmation. It’s an interesting trend in history and spans cultures where if someone has something awaiting them, to live for, even if they are unaware of it… they will fight harder to cling to life. 

[]9/23, 11:18[] But I also know you will fight tooth and nail for Jack, and for your team that you treat like family, and maybe even me. I’d like to hope I’m included in that, and no amount of books or IQ points can make me think of something to contribute to help you keep fighting.

[]9/23, 11:19[] Just please keep fighting. Come back. And if I come up with something to entice you… I’ll let you know.

It eases a lot of the tension in his chest, talking to Hotch like this -- even if he’s just talking at him, in a place where he might never know what Spencer has had to say. But he can hope. Hope that Hotch will wake up and have thirty missed messages and see they are all from Spencer and it will make him smile. 

Spencer would give anything to see him smile, and he allows himself to hope that one day... he might get to. 

He might as well, while he’s sitting there hopelessly hoping for things beyond his control. 

Come back to me.

Spencer almost types it out, can see it in the text window though he hasn’t pressed a single letter, and closes his phone before he can. Pressing it to his mouth and closing his eyes and just… 

Hoping.

--

The hours roll over into the afternoon, and there’s still no word. 

Spencer has spent the majority of the day messaging Ms. Garcia, who has had no information beyond trivial updates here and there and Spencer has read more about surgical procedures and practices than he has in his entire life. Even raided the biology department’s library, surrounding himself with the comfort of books and files and filled his head with the soothing monotony of medical terms and safety protocols. 

But once noon has come and gone he finds himself staring into the bookshelves across from where he sits on the floor, among stacks of textbooks, with an epiphany trying to make itself known to him. Despite his every attempt to ignore it. 

His phone is back in his hand, there’s an email correspondence from Ms. Garcia that only briefly says Still nothing. And that makes up Spencer’s mind. 

[]9/23, 12:49[] I’ve thought of something.

What he types next makes it hard to breathe, his heart lodged in his throat, and it all comes flowing out of him much like before. His fingers keep moving, his emotional part of his brain steam-rolls over the rational one, and then he’s done and he’s tacked on six extra messages and Spencer has to put his phone away before he rereads it beyond what is deemed healthy or sane. 

Because he’s done what he could, and all he can do is believe that will be enough to… subliminally keep Hotch fighting. The day is only half over, and Spencer feels like he hasn’t slept in a week. 

It would be hours before he got the message that would send relief through his spine like a shot of Novocain. Just three words from Ms. Garcia, sent in haste in a text instead of an email.

{}9/23, 14:58{} He’s in recovery.

--

Hotch wakes up just barely the first time, the room spinning and hit with that familiar smell of anesthesia he can always taste as it fills his senses, before he slips back under. 

The second time is to a small pencil light being flashed in his eyes, staccato movements meant to test his pupil reactions, and an older woman in nurse’s scrubs saying his name and calling to him. He hums an affirmative, even though he isn’t fully returned to a working state of mind. Instinct, more than clarity.

“Welcome back, Agent Hotchner.”

“About damn time,” he hears Prentiss say from somewhere across the room. Probably leaning the wall, if that faux drone is anything to go by. The nurse gives her a look but his agent isn’t even fazed by it, as far as Hotch can see. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust that far. But he knows the look well enough he doesn’t actually have to see it. 

“Where is everyone? Is anyone else hurt?” Hotch can feel the words form on his tongue, droned out in a haze, his mind slowly coming back to him. 

“Good to see you, too, boss,” Prentiss says in mild exacerbation, coming up to the side of his bed but not taking a seat. She must have been waiting a long time, her whole stance jittery just like after long flights on cases. “Everyone is fine, you’re the only one that got into a knife fight with an unsub who’s into biological warfare.” Hotch blinks at her, trying to make her words make sense without asking it of her. He remembers going to a warehouse to follow a lead, but not much else after that. It’s coming back too slowly to keep up with her. Prentiss just sighs, and repeats herself. “Everyone is fine.” 

She regales him with a play by play, his own memories appearing like raindrops on a windshield to accompany her commentary. Slowly beginning to form a picture of what had happened. He’d been stabbed before, more than he cares to think about, and he’s been dosed with military-grade drugs before as well -- but never both at the same time. No wonder he feels like he’s been hit by a truck.

“You’re lucky to be alive, honestly,” she points out, hip resting against the plastic side panels of his hospital bed. 

“Yeah, I’m gathering that.”

“And your phone has been blowing up like crazy.” 

Hotch is finally able to sit up enough and see straight without his vision swimming, to find that his agent does indeed have his cell phone in her hands. 

“What?”

“Yeah, eight missed calls and three voicemails, and--” she squints at the screen before looking at him in astonished confusion, “eighty-seven missed text messages, from a whole bunch of people. I’m not reading through all of them. I didn’t know you were that popular.” 

“I’m the Unit Chief, popularity has nothing to do with it,” Hotch deadpans, more himself. Wanting to reach for his phone but his arms are still dealing with pins and needles sensations, sluggish to lift and his fingers uncooperative. “Who called me eight times?”

“Let’s see,” she unlocks his phone -- somehow, god damn it Prentiss -- and scrolls through his notifications. “Two calls from Jessica, one from me, three from Strauss (Jesus), one from Dr. Reid, and one from Garcia. It doesn’t say who the voicemails are from.”

Hotch suddenly feels much more alert, his heart rate monitor picking up but he does his best not to draw attention to it, instead looking up at Prentiss as carefully guarded as he ever is. 

“Dr. Reid called?” he tries to keep his voice even, and unaffected, but the aftereffects of the drugs in his system leave a little more hitch in his voice than he would have liked. 

“Yeah, he’s been talking to Garcia,” Prentiss says without much comment, still scrolling through his phone and making Hotch a little more than nervous. “Busted the case wide open, and saved your life while he was at it. We never would have known you were dosed with something if he hadn’t figured it out. Think you owe that old man a fruit basket.”

“Can I have my phone back?” 

“Don’t think you’re supposed to have it,” she says without looking up, still scrolling through his notifications. “Lots of junk e-mail…”

“One of those voicemails is probably Jack, I should call and let them know I’m alright,” Hotch tries to reason with her.

“He and Jess are already on their way up, they’ll land in an hour,” Prentiss tells him, but looks over her shoulder for that nurse as she makes to hand Hotch his phone anyway. Still hesitant despite her predilections to breaking every rule she can get away with.

“I still want it back,” Hotch insists, regretting saying it as soon as he does.

It catches Prentiss’ attention a little too sharply. “...why?” But at Hotch’s steady stare and solid silence, unwavering like he hadn’t just been in surgery for hours on end, she finally relents and hands it over, still giving him a suspicious look. 

“It’s important,” he finally admits, when she doesn’t stop staring for a good couple of minutes. Those perfectly shaped eyebrows raise near to her hairline, the profiler in her connecting more dots than should be humanly possible. 

A small smile teases her lips, though not fully forming there. “Now I wish I’d read them.” 

Hotch just gives her a reprimanding look of his own, but it’s short lived.

“Thank you, for staying.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Prentiss assures him, her smile going softer. “I’ll leave you to your mystery woman.” A beat, another raised eyebrow. “Person.” A knowing look, but then she exits and Hotch is able to look at his phone at his own discretion. 

- 

Hotch goes through the text messages with a brief glance; there’s so many of them. Other agents and agencies, his team in a group chat Garcia had started, Jessica left fifteen before someone got a hold of her, and Jack’s school sending reminders about soccer and parent teacher conferences. 

But 39 are from Spencer, and his heart constricts in his chest at the worry he must have caused the man. Aches next to the scars on his chest and the blood that doesn’t belong to him in his veins. And somewhere in the recesses of his mind, it’s coupled with a torturous feeling of longing. Even subtle jealousy, because even half drugged out of his mind Hotch hadn’t missed the precise word choices Prentiss used. Garcia has been talking to Spencer -- talking. 

Garcia got to hear him.

She talked to Spencer, when he still hadn’t, because of some unspoken rule Hotch isn’t even sure when they decided upon. He still knew so little about the man, and Spencer’s voice could tell him so much with just a few words. He could fill volumes with what he would learn from just a single message --

Without much further thought, Hotch pulls up his voice mail. Listens to the automated voices and the three messages there. None are from Spencer, although his heart had beat a little harder in anticipation -- enough his heart monitor beeped audibly next to him. Embarrassing as that was, like a lovestruck teenager. He’d glared at it and centered his breathing until his heart rate slowed back down, not wanting to alert the nurses station. Two of the voicemails are from Jessica’s phone, one of her worried out of her mind, and the other of Jack telling him they are coming to see him and he hopes he feels better soon. Just listening to his son speak more strongly than his aunt had or anyone else should in his situation, telling his daddy he loves him while the sounds of a commercial airline filter through the background, makes Hotch want to smile and sob all at once.

The last voicemail is from Garcia, telling him a similar story to what Prentiss had earlier, but with a bit more detail on her end. How ‘Dr. Reid’ called her out of the blue, because there had been no time for his usual emails, and gave them the information that saved his life. He’d been working the case diligently, ever since, and was checking up on him a lot. More than a lot. ‘Let him know you’re okay, when you wake up and get this. The poor guy is worried sick, and my updates only give him so much comfort.’

Spencer had actually called Garcia, when he hasn’t physically spoken to anyone in Quantico the entire time he’s consulted for them, just to save a few precious seconds to relay what he’d found. He’d even broken their rule, probably before hand, and called Hotch -- just to make sure he was okay. Hadn’t stopped working to help, the moment he found out he wasn’t.

It’s a strange thought, that if not for Spencer -- Hotch would be dead. That Jack would be flying up here for a very different reason. 

Hotch switches over to the text messages with a lump in his throat. Not at all prepared, emotionally, but needing to know.

The 39 messages start from the night before, when they were supposed to have had their usual online chess date. They range from playful banter, teasing edged in worry, and escalate to panic as the night wears on. Anxious worry bleeding through the single sentences, building and building until that lump in his throat feels like it might block off all air soon. 

Please be okay.

God, that alone starts to set a tone -- and reveals something Hotch hadn’t expected to find. Those three words give way to his speech pathology training, and all indicate that Spencer is… very likely younger than he’d originally thought. Some of Hotch’s assumptions might be close, even the teasing ones he’d only said because he’d been sure they were wrong. The other man is obviously beyond worried about him, as well. Petrified, despite knowing the risks of his job. They had become so close the past few months, were most definitely past the flirting stage and into something so tentative and wonderful Hotch can barely believe it some days. But they had never talked about this, about the possibility that Hotch might walk into a situation one day and not walk back out of it. 

Spencer’s messages soon give way to him just… talking at Hotch. Relaying what was happening, philosophical rants meant to ease his own mind and Hotch finds himself smiling softly at the man’s constant stream of thought, lectures at genius levels that he still feels so compelled to share with Hotch. Because they are that close. They really, truly, are -- and it brightens the fluttering feeling in his chest all the more. How Spencer is trying, subliminally, to draw Hotch back to the light. Three thousand miles away.

Please come back.

Hotch hears it loud and clear, the come back to me. Even unwritten. And it makes his heart skip a beat, aching as it does.

Then…

[]9/23, 15:49[] I’ve thought of something.

[]9/23, 15:52[] I’m 29.

Hotch doesn’t understand, at first. But then it hits him.

Years.  

29 years. 

Spencer is 29 years old. Proven, further, by the following messages sent after that.

[]9/23, 15:56[] I’m a certified child prodigy, on a registry and everything. I graduated high school at just twelve years old, and had my first Ph.D. by 15. Youngest in CalTech history.

29.

Jesus Christ, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell Hotch his age. 29 is… far younger than he expected. 

When Spencer was born, Hotch was getting his driver’s license. 16 years difference in age…

He keeps reading, despite the numb aftermath of a bomb going off inside his head, trying to process it and also hear the younger man out.

Younger. Spencer is 16 years younger than Hotch, and he finds himself scrubbing at his face to try and wake himself up further as he reads what Spencer sent.

[]9/23, 15:57[] I turn 30 at the end of October, and I was trying to wait until then to tell you. 

[]9/23, 16:00[] I’ve noticed a prominent dynamic shift in perception, between listing my age as in my 20’s and ‘almost 30’. It’s a numerical allusion our brains can’t help. You hear 29, you think 21. It happens with decades, too, once someone is outside the familial range of 10 years. +/- either side.

[]9/23, 16:02[] An age gap doesn’t sound as bad when I’m 30. That’s why I wanted to wait, just a little while longer, but if that universal affirmation phenomenon actually works for us -- I don’t mind dealing with the consequences.

[]9/23, 16:03[] Just please come back. 

[]9/23, 16:07[] Please be okay.

[]9/23, 16:10[] I miss you.

His heart is about to be ripped to shreds. 

Hotch feels terrible, because Spencer is right. 29 sounds so young, and it keeps repeating in his head over and over. But 29 isn’t the same as 21, he isn’t some college student still stumbling around trying to figure out his life. He has five Ph.D.’s, runs three departments at one of the best universities in the country, is consulted by the FBI and Homeland Security and very obviously has a reputation he upholds to the highest regard. Hotch had guessed Spencer was 32 not so long ago, what was the big difference between that and his actual age? From what little Spencer just shared of his life story, he’s never gotten to be a kid, so who was Hotch to consider him one? What gave him the right to be floored by this, did it actually change what he thought of Spencer? How he felt about him only moments prior to reading that?

I miss you.   Come back.   Please be okay.

I’m 29.

It could be the recent flirtation with death, the anesthesia or the morphine, even the gratitude that Hotch will get to see his son again and not leave him without both his parents -- there’s so many reasons for him to take pause as he considers the messages in front of him. 

But it feels a lot like the months of talking, and the countless late nights spent together, that pile up and up in his chest. A rising pressure that reminds Hotch that he and Spencer have something, and it’s not a normal, regular situation for either of them. Something that precedent, and everything Hotch has ever been told to hold to standard, doesn’t seem to fit. He and Spencer don’t seem to fit, when looked at afar or even on paper -- but they do. They really do. It was never supposed to be something that could be this easy, or normal in any capacity.

But what about their lives ever was?

[]9/23, 18:26[] I’m so sorry I worried you.

[]9/23, 18:26[] I miss you, too.

[]9/23, 18:27[] If I stop answering you, the nurse took my phone away. I hate hospitals.

[]9/23, 18:29[] Hotch, you scared me to death.

[]9/23, 18:30[] I know, I’m sorry.

[]9/23, 18:31[] From what I heard, you saved my life.

[]9/23, 18:33[] I don’t even know how to begin thanking you for that.

[]9/23, 18:36[] Just get better.

[]9/23, 18:38[] Which means resting, don’t glare at your nurses too much. They’re there to help you.

There’s a long stretch of a pause in their correspondence, which picks up so smooth and easy it’s as if they had never stopped. Like the last few days hadn’t happened at all. But they had, they were both looking at the messages to prove that. He does take pause, maybe more than he should, and Hotch knows miles away Spencer is just as nervous. Staring at his phone.

-

Hotch isn’t wrong. Spencer let out such an exclamation of relief at Hotch’s name on his notifications he about sobbed with it. He never cries, hasn’t in years -- but his eyes sting with relief and worry and… an emotion he doesn’t want to name.

[]9/23, 18:44[] What day is your birthday?

[]9/23, 18:45[] October 28th.

[]9/23, 18:45[] Same week as mine. November 2nd.

Hotch pauses, again, considers his next response… and 3,000 miles away Spencer can barely blink as he stares at his phone with mounting dread. 

[]9/23, 18:49[] I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It’s alright.

[]9/23, 18:51[] Am I correct in assuming you’ve never been in a relationship with this much of an age gap?

It takes Hotch a moment to even gather the courage to type that out and send it. Knows it sounds almost too formal, for them, but Hotch also knows that he and Spencer are balanced on the edge of a knife, here, and… no matter what the outcome, everything is about to change between them.

Spencer licks his lips in nervousness, reading the line over and over although he has no need to. It feels like a tipping point, and he’s still… terrified this will be his last conversation with Hotch outside of case work. Ever. 

[]9/23, 18:55[] Never. 

[]9/23, 18:57[] I haven’t had many relationships at all. My peer groups have always been older than me, and people my own age never understood me enough to be interested. So it’s just something I was used to, going without.

[]9/23, 18:59[] This has been… the closest thing to what I’ve been told is normal that I’ve ever experienced. I’ve never had the chance to have something like this with someone, or connect in this way. I gave up, for a long while there.

[]9/23, 19:01[] I’ve been in a similar situation before, on an intellectual spectrum.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never--

Hotch pauses, again, putting his thoughts in order. Weighing it all, before taking that final leap. Spencer waiting with baited breath, all the more. 

But Hotch doesn’t regret what he sends. Not one bit.

[]9/23, 19:03[] I’ve never dated anyone younger than me like this, before, so we’ll both be on a learning curve.

[]9/23, 19:03[] But we will figure it out. Together.

Spencer’s breath catches, and he can’t seem to release it again. He can’t believe what he’s reading. What Hotch has sent him. 

He said ‘dated’.

He thought they were dating. Spencer isn’t quite sure he can trust his own eyes, despite the words being there in stark black and white on his phone screen.

[]9/23, 19:06[] Dating?

Hotch smiles, because he just knows -- from that single word text -- that Spencer has sent it not in admonishment or anything negative of the sort. But in hope. Confident that he recognizes the nuance in Spencer's voice even without ever having heard it, Hotch just knows, and it makes warmth blossom anew in his chest. Sends his heart rate monitor skittering across the machine all over again.

[]9/23, 19:08[] Hate to be the one to tell you, but all of those late nights where we talked for hours instead of playing chess? Those were dates.

Spencer has his hand over his mouth, still in disbelief that he hadn’t… fucked this up beyond repair. That his age hadn’t been the deal breaker he’d feared so vehemently for months now. That everything is still as it was, age difference and life-threatening situation, aside.

They were dating. All this time.

[]9/23, 19:10[] I should have worn nicer clothes.

Hotch laughs at his phone at the same time Spencer laughs at his own, having reread what he’d sent. 

3,000 miles away, and their quiet laughter coincides perfectly. 

[]9/23, 19:11[] Our next one I’m sure I’ll be in a hospital gown, so I think you’re in the clear.

[]9/23, 19:12[] Sounds like you’re making plans, already. 

[]9/23, 19:12[] You still need rest.

[]9/23, 19:14[] Well, I have to thank you somehow. And, I saw something about poker instead of chess? I’m actually not bad at poker.

[]9/23, 19:15[] … you remember I’m from Vegas, right?

[]9/23, 19:16[] We’ll play for fake money.

[]9/23, 19:18[] No such thing.

[]9/23, 19:19[] I do play for favors, though.

[]9/23, 19:19[] Oh? 

Hotch feels a wild, youthful thing unfurl in his chest as he types away. Mischievous, almost, in a way he only gets when he and Spencer are hours deep into conversations in the middle of the night. But it’s broad daylight, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide. Getting lost in the thrill of it all. In the officiality of it, now, and another curtain unveiled between them.

[]9/23, 19:20[] Did you have something in mind?

Spencer has to be blushing seven shades of red, right about now, and he hides his face from his phone for a moment before he realizes how ridiculous that is -- Hotch can’t see him. He can stop messaging the man any time he wants to.

Except he doesn’t want to.

[]9/23, 19:24[] I’ll get back to you.

Hotch can’t help it as he grins at his phone. A wry, suggestive thing, but he manages to school it before a passing nurse can see him -- how his eyes are alight with possibility. With elation, just from talking to the younger man that had seemed to capture a part of him he thought wasn’t available to anyone any more, and types out one last -- slightly more flirtatious subtext to put a cap on their conversation. To indicate he’s awaiting more, always wanting a little more of Dr. Spencer Reid.

He can blame it on the morphine, later. 

[]9/23, 19:25[] Looking forward to it.

--

(tbc...)

--

Tagged List:  @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[urmomsstuntdouble]

brother of mine

aka an itabros character study (?) there are characters and they’ve been studied, idk what else to tell you. this has been in my head for a long while, though i got a lil experimental with how i wrote it. anyway, this is a bit important to me and i know there’s like a lot of really good takes about their relationship already out ther, but here’s mine! i hope you enjoy it!

(pov romano, written in present tense 2nd person, in case that’s a turn off for you. all of the emotional baggage you’d expect.)

6:09- Wake up, still tired. Nothing you can do about that, but you stay in bed a little longer, listening. Is your brother awake yet? Do you want him to be? It’s already noisy outside. 

6:13- Get out of bed after spending four minutes staring at that photograph of your fiance and you that’s taped to the wall. You wonder if you should frame it, but he hasn’t gotten you a ring yet, so you don’t know if he’s serious, or he’s also in love with you. And if you were to frame it, you’d have to take the tape off, and that would render your likeness without a face. Would that be so bad? And you don’t want to think about that, so you push the blanket off. Because you sleep naked, you get cold fast without the blanket. At first, you try to sink deeper into the bed, but that dosn’t work. There’s no goosebumps on your back. So you get up and put clothes on. 

6:15- You walk into the bathroom, pleased that the time is such an even number. A perfect quarter of an hour. But then you see your brother, standing at the mirror, straightening his wavy hair. You sigh, and ask him how long he’s gonna be in the bathroom. You need to straighten your hair too, and you can’t use the toilet with him standing there. Maybe you could’ve at one point, or on a better day, but today isn’t one of those days. 

6:39- You finish straightening your hair. Your brother is still in the bathroom, even though he doesn’t need to be. He’s crosslegged on the toilet, and you’re paying closer attention to your hair than his rambling, but you still know when to nod and fake-laugh. 

6:52- You don’t pay attention to traffic on the way to work, despite driving. It was your turn to drive, but you’re not in the mood to drive. But you can’t ask your brother to drive, because then he’ll worry about you, and you’ll have to tell him why you’re fine. He’ll never believe you. He says he wants to help you a lot, but he never does, at least not in the way you need. Maybe he doesn’t understand you, or maybe you’re just stupid to him. Can he see you, really? Is he even trying? Maybe you are stupid, or maybe you can’t be helped. You almost hit a woman and her daughter, and you scream out the window that they need to walk faster. You don’t believe yourself, and your brother can tell. You growl. Maybe that’ll change his mind. 

7:28- You arrive at the Parliament building. Your brother gets out of the car first, almost while it’s still moving. Don’t want to be late! he chirps, but the pair of you can’t be late. You can’t give the nation avatars their morning briefing if they’re not there. And you’re not even supposed to be there until eight, anyway. You say nothing of this and call him a dumbass. 

7:37- You’re walking slowly through the halls. You have 23 minutes, and you are alone. Some coffee would be nice. You don’t trust yourself to get coffee and get back in 23 minutes, so you don’t. 

8:00- You walk into the briefing room. Your brother is already there. He gives you a little wave when you walk in. Heat flashes through you, and you feel like you could rip a cork out of a bottle with your bare hands. There is no way to test that, because there are no bottles in this room. You sit beside him, in the chair unofficially designated as yours, and begin the briefing. 

9:00- Another meeting. A headache nips at your temples, and you tell yourself it’s not because you didn’t get coffee. It is. In the meeding, someone mentions your separatists, and you straighten your tie. You also shrink back into your seat. They blame you, or maybe think you have answers. You don’t. You are glad your tattoo is covered. 

10:00- You have nothing to do for now, so you read the news. Your brother is doing paperwork. You should be doing paperwork. If you didn’t share an office, you wouldn’t feel so bad about not doing the paperwork. The sound of his pen on paper grates at you. You can hear his progress as the ball-point gets scratchier. You keep scrolling down the news app on your government phone. 

11:00- You start your own paperwork after the third time your brother harrasses you about it. Hundreds of Lovino Vargas’s make your wrist hurt, but he looks smug about finishing first. 

12:54- You get a chunk of your work done. Your brother’s fucked off somewhere without telling you. You leave the office, leave the building, and find a wall to lean against. You smoke, watching your people. If they’re yours? Things are fuzzier in Rome. You wish they weren’t. No one else is so weak in their capital, and it’s only okay because Veneziano is weak here too. A girl smiles at you, and you blow her a kiss. Her blush is cute, but you can’t enjoy it because you’re engaged. 

13:12- Your brother finds you. He wants to get lunch. You say fine, unenthused. You get lunch from a street market. When the vendor hands your food across the counter, your fingers brush. The look in his eyes changes, and he gapes. He knows who you are. You wink at him, and he stands a little straighter. Your brother knows what’s happened too, and beams at him. He pays in a stack of coins. The vendor chuckles, and stares at your brother in awe. They shake hands while you hold your brother’s lunch. You need to get back to work, so you take your food without shaking the vendor’s hand. 

14:00- It’s another hour passed. Your pen sounds different when you sign your name, but the victory feels hollow. You’re slow. 

15:00- It’s warm. Too warm. You’re heavy, and you want to take a nap. You’re sweating again, and miss the ocean. You can’t remember the last time you saw your fiance. You should make arrangements to see him again. 

16:00- It’s still warm. You’ve sweated through your dress shirt. Maybe you should take your blazer off. But then people will know you’re sweating. And your brother isn’t sweating. You keep the blazer on, and wipe your forehead with a tissue. With the tissue still in your hand, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You wipe under your arms with toilet paper, and stare at yourself in the mirror. You’re behind, and you sort of miss the times when you didn’t have paperwork. It was better for your wrists, but worse for everything else. Even so, you could lean back on your fiance’s chest whenever you pleased. He had a soft spot for you. Everyone else’s soft spot is for your brother. You wonder if your fiance is the only person who will ever have such a soft spot for you. You splash your face with cold water and pat it dry. Your eyes looked better when they were lined with sweat. 

17:00- It gets loud outside. You continue working. 

18:00- It’s still loud. You’re still working. Your brother takes a break, smoking by the window. There’s sweat under his arms. A secratary walks in to deliver more papers. She likes his suspenders, and he thanks her. He blows her a kiss. You know, the whole point of smoking by the window is to keep the smoke from getting into the room. The secratary leaves. You ruined it. 

19:00- Your brother drives you home. It’s his turn. He pays attention to traffic. You pick at your nails, and wrestle some words down. Your head throbs, and you need a smoke. Or some coffee. 

20:11- You’re home. It smells like you, and you can breathe. It also smells like your brother. Maybe you smell the same. 

20:47- Dinner. You sit down, punctuated by an opening door. You brother’s boyfriend walks in, and he makes him a plate. You shake your head, and push food around on your plate while they talk about trade deals. You wish he wasn’t here. Or maybe you wish you were somehwere else. Maybe you wish you were on the beach, or maybe you miss your fiance. Actually, you always miss him, but most of the time you’ve forgotten. Watching them talk about the trade hurts anyway. It’s not even trade between the two of them. You figure it out and realize that you wish you were human. If you were human you never would’ve met your brother. You’d never have left Sicilia- Or maybe you’d be married to your fiance by now. Whatever. You wouldn’t know either of the men on the other side of the table, and it would be a better life. 

21:03- You brother’s boyfriend is gone. You’re screaming, and so is your brother. You’re both armed with wine glasses, and you feel yours slipping in your hand. You don’t want to drop it, because he’ll help you clean it. You can see it now- The glass falls and shatters, and you fall with it to pick up the pieces. Your brother’s hands meet yours as he does the same. You scream at him and someone bleeds while the other shouts into a pillow. You drink the rest of your wine. You try to talk so fast that you dribble wine down your shirt. Your throat feels tight and your voice pitches up, and now you sound like him. You tell him he’s stupid and obnoxious and he should’ve kept his half of the country. His eyes widen. Yours would too if someone was yelling at you in your own voice. You both ruin your shirts with tears, and Veneziano drops his wine glass. Good job, you say, and track footprints of wine out of the room. 

21:49- You need to go to sleep. You can hear your brother talking to his boyfriend on the phone. You wish it was light enough to see the picture of your fiance on the wall, and you don’t want to get out of bed to turn the light on. You know it’s there, and that helps, but you really wish you could see him. 

5:03- You didn’t sleep much last night. The quiet in the house hurts a little. You’re still in yesterday’s clothes. You wander downstairs. The floor is clean now, and the kitchen door is open. Your brother is outside. 

5:06- You’re not sorry and you let him know. He’s okay with it and you sort of wish he wasn’t but you’re glad he understadns. He makes you cry too much, but you also make him cry a lot. Maybe you shouldn’t live together. You don’t say that, because it might make him cry again. 

5:08- His head is on your shoulder. You can’t move. You think you’re supposed to put an arm around him and be comforting. Your hands were always too rough, too violent, too dirty. They never learned how to love gently. You wouldn’t know how to comfort. You were never supposed to learn what tenderness was. Last night, you wished you hadn’t. 

5:18- You hug him. He does most of the work. You bury your face in his shoulder pretending it’s someon else’s. 

5:19- He’s sorry. You don’t believe him. 

5:20- You say thank you. 

5:21- Niether of you talk. You might not be ready to talk yet. Is it okay, you ask him? He shrugs, because he’s not ready either. No one’s ever ready. 

5:24- You agree to try again today. You both know it won’t work. You try again. 

[ladecena]

MY BRIGHTEST STAR🌌🌠

May 14,2020

11:15 pm

There are 45 minutes before my birthday. I got out of bed, holding my phone, because I couldn’t sleep no matter what I did.

I slowly opened the door and tiptoed out of my bed, taking care not to let it creak. Everyone in the house is still sleeping, so I can’t make any noises that would wake them up. Since my throats were dry and I needed to remain hydrated, I went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. After all, I can’t be dehydrated because I’m supposed to be hydrated all the time.

I walked out of the house wearing my oversized T-shirt and night shorts, leaving my glass on the counter. Since there were some torches, the whole subdivision was quiet and dim. The sky was lovely, but the boy who had just entered with his silver bicycle was even more so. I told myself, “Shut up, all boys are gorgeous.”

“Are you ready?” Miguel stated as he brushed his long, silky golden hair back with his lovely fingers. I grinned and walked over to my pink bicycle in the garage. “Where is your gear?”

“Where is your gear?” I questioned as well after noticing that he had not brought his. He squinted and raised one of his thick brows. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Especially because you’re here with me.

His lips curled into an endearing grin, exposing his charming dimples. I got on my bike and pedaled down the road first, hoping he’d be close behind.

The cool night breeze caressed my face and caused my hair to fly, making me happy. I took a left and later realized Miguel was standing right next to me. He hasn’t changed since I first saw him with his hair flying and his aesthetic dark eyes. He is still the boy I loved and admired, still admire, and will still genuinely love.

11:30 pm

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” Just don’t breath—“

“Do you want me to die horribly?” When my eyes accidentally went down, I exclaimed. I screamed and turned away, my eyes closed. Miguel sighed and his hands rested on my shoulders, which helped me relax a little. Only a little bit. I’m in a panic, crap.

“What I mean is, don’t breathe too quickly; instead, breathe slowly. Exhale slowly after taking a deep breath, then repeat. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to die, okay?” He said calmly, which made me feel bad for screaming at him while he was simply trying to help me from panicking.

I followed his instructions and, to my surprise, it succeeded. When Miguel wrapped his handkerchief around my knee to cover the cut, I slowly opened my eyes and yelped in the quietest way possible. When he kissed it after tying it, I bit my lip and felt my face flush. He got up and extended his hand to me, which I gladly accepted.

“Are you all right now?”

“Thank you very much, Miguel.”   I smiled, and he smiled even more. God, I love that face.

“Oh, if you weren’t so stubborn, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” He said it with a little frown on his face, which made me laugh because he’s so sweet when he’s upset.

“If you hadn’t been there, I would have passed out in the middle of the road right now, but I’m still standing and breathing.” As I smiled, his frown vanished, and all he did was shake his head before walking to get his bike.

 “You’re stubborn as hell. As he grasped the handlebars of his bike, he uttered. “Instead, let’s go for a stroll.”

“If I’m right, give me 500 pesos.” Your favorite shirt right now is the blackpink t-shirt I gave you.” Miguel muttered something and smirked as he looked at me and the path we were walking on.

“Wrong my favorite shirt is the other black pink t-shirt which I bought last Saturday. “I confidently replied and smirked back at him. Aw, you don’t love me anymore?” he pouted and gave me that cute puppy look. My weakness.

“oh my gosh, stop that. You look like an idiot.” Yes I’m a great liar.

“ugh, darn it.” He huffed and continued walking, which made me chuckled because of his cuteness.

It became quiet after. Enjoying the peaceful and satisfying cold wind with each other’s company was already enough.

I know in my heart that he has a problem but he didn’t want to share it with me and I respect his decision.

“ Has the thought of leaving me ever cross your mind?” I asked out of nowhere to cut the silence while we’re walking down the silent road with our bikes.

“Yep.” I pouted and glared at him immediately when he said but he just laughed. That hurt right into my heart. “ What, if I am be pooping, you wanna watch?”

“Gross, of course not.” I cringed which made him laugh harder. His laugh is annoying but also cute but its pissing me off but I still love it.

“How about you? Ever thought of leaving this handsome boy?” he raised his eyebrows up and down while staring at me, waiting for my answer.

“I don’t wanna promise that I won’t because we never know what will happen in the future but I assure you that no matter what happens, even if the worlds screwed up, we’re screwed up, I will always stay with you.” Miguel stopped walking so I did too and looked at him. He smiled at me before starting to walk again.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

11:45 pm

“Don’t go yet.” I whined quietly while softly pulling the sleeve of his hoodie. I know that its late and he might be tired but I wanna be selfish even just for now.

“Alright then, my princess.” Miguel smiled and pulled my hand going inside our house silently. Miguel being Miguel, he didn’t make the slightest noise even in closing closing the door. It was dark but with Miguel’s hand holding mine, I know that I shouldn’t be afraid.

When we reach my bedroom, he gently pushed me inside and slowly pushed the door behind him while his sexy dark eyes were staring into my soul, dominating me. He took little steps going towards me, not cutting eye contact, and as if I’m frozen, I stood still staring back into his beautiful dark grey eyes until I could feel and smell his strawberry scented breath.

“Let’s go stargaze even if I know to myself that gazing at you is better.” He huskily uttered before smiling and pulling my hand to go out the window. He assisted me to climb up the roof carefully before he followed.

He gently guided me to a spot between his legs where I could sit comfortably. As his arms wrapped around me and his big hands devoured my tiny hands, I laid my back on his chest.

Nothing beats sitting on the roof with the guy you want to spend the rest of your life with, gazing at thousands of sparkling stars in the midnight sky, which isn’t quite midnight yet, but let’s call it that anyway.

 “Did you know that the sun is a star?” Miguel said as he rested his chin on my left shoulder. Our eyes glued on the sky full of stars above us. 

“uh-huh.”

“Personally, I think that stars don’t appear only at night because if it only appears in the darkness, the isn’t it unfair that it doesn’t appear during bright days?” he said in a serious expression which made me laugh a bit. 

“That doesn’t make any sense. And the sun is a star because science shit.” I replied which made him laugh as well.

“Yeah I know, I didn’t know what to say so I just wasted my saliva for bullshit.” He said while chuckling because of his darkness. What he said didn’t really make sense but he’s still cute so never mind.

“but let me tell you something, my princess.” He sat properly so I faced him to give all of my attention.

“if all the stars disappears, that doesn’t mean that its over. Darkness is everywhere already. No, don’t forget that the moon is still there, there to light up the darkness. And it lights up the most. So don’t ever think that you’re alone and your life is pure darkness just because the stars disappears.” He smiled for a while before continuing.

“the stars will appear again. But they may not be the same stars from before again.”

11:55 pm

When I got tired of watching the stars above the sky. I faced Miguel.

Miguel had the same dark grey eyes. The same dark grey eyes I used to always stare at since when I was six. He had the same small nose. The same small nose I used to always poke when we were toddlers since it was cute. He had the same chubby and soft cheeks. The same cheeks I used to always squish whenever I’m ecstatic, annoyed, sad, or normal. He had the same sexy pinkish lips. The first same sexy pinkish lips I kissed when I was ten. He had the same long golden hair. The same long golden hair I used to braid or play with when im bored though I always envy his hair since its straight and silky more as hell than mine. And lastly, he had the same effect on me.

Only realizing it now, his face was only an inch away from mine. His deep breaths made me look hotter.

“Advance Happy Birthday, I love you my princess.” Miguel said.

I slowly shut my eyes as tears started forming in my eyes. Seconds have passed and sobs started to come out. I slowly opened my eyes to look at the time.

12:00 AM 

May 15, 2021

“It was all a dream” I told myself.

Miguel died because of the car accident. If only I hadn’t been selfish and let him go home that night, maybe he’s still with me right now celebrating my birthday.

It’s been exactly a year since my star vanished.

It’s just unfair that among billions of stars out there, he’s the one chosen to be vanished.

I held onto the shirt he gave me a year ago on my birthday while crying hard. It will never not be painful as hell.

His smile, his eyes, his dimples, his long golden hair, my Miguel that I will never get to see anymore.

“Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re happy.” I sobbed while looking above the sky full of stars. “I don’t do promises but I’m doing it now. I promise that I will continue living the nights with different stars. Only for you, baby. I miss you so much.

 - meng✨

June 09, 2021

[elitparadox]

Life Goes On~ (Pt. 4)

↳ miya osamu x f!reader

↳ fluff, comedy??

↳ 2.6k

↳ status: ongoing

↳ parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

You suddenly appear in haikyuu after watching the show for weeks now, and you’re trying to find a way out. Deciding to make the most of it, you learn from these talented volleyball players, cuz why waste an opportunity? You weren’t meant to fall in love with any of them, but with Osamu’s alluring formosity and talent, you can’t help but rethink your life that has led up to this exact moment.

It’s Sunday afternoon. During the span of two days, you tried to contact someone who could help you, but it was no use, because of course, no one believed your story. On the other hand, you became a little bit more acquainted with Osamu and his too-clean apartment.

Sighing, you turn away from your borrowed laptop as you focus on Osamu’s pencil that was writing unfamiliar calculus signs on his homework paper.

“Wait- what am I going to do?”

“Hm?” Osamu doesn’t turn around as he responds.

“Don’t I have to enroll in your school? Which is the nearest one, I suppose. The hours will pass by too slowly for my liking, and I must receive my education”

Osamu’s gaze lands on you. “You could contact the principal and ask if you could attend for a few weeks with an excuse.. You’re a… 1st year?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the room as the two of you brainstorm.

“I guess I could do that; do you know what the principal’s phone number is? And we’ll call as an unknown number. Can you lend me your phone?”

Osamu shrugs as he enters a password, opening the calling app to the principal’s number, and hands over his phone, fingers accidentally brushing yours, making the atmosphere a little awkward.

You press the call button after quickly switching the number identity, and someone on the other end answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” quick. make up a name. You fake a cough, changing your voice tone. “I’m Kagai Yinimi, Y/N’s mother. We recently moved to Japan, and I have not yet found a school fit for Y/N, but tomorrow is supposed to be the day she needs to go to school. Is there any way you could clear a spot for her?”

“Excuse me?”

You didn’t realize you just spoke English. Then it hit you. The whisper from your dream. This situation now. You’re a polyglot. (someone who can speak multiple languages fluently) You weren’t one before. So had haikyuu changed anything about you? But most importantly, why can’t you control it?

*ahem* go with the weird-everything-goes-her-way mom tone. “I’M TELLING YOU- Y/N NEEDS HER EDUCATION! COULD YOU PLEASE CREATE A SPOT FOR HER?? SHE CAN CATCH UP, AND, UM, SHE SPEAKS JAPANESE TOO!!”

During this whole time, Osamu was looking at you with a “what the heck are you doing” expression.

You shoot him a “come help me” glance.                                                          

Osamu takes the phone from you, alters his voice tone, and says, “Sorry. My, uh, wife can’t speak Japanese yet. But she’s saying that we just moved here, and Y/N, our daughter” *pauses* “-needs a school. Is there a spot for her?”

Silence first. But after about fifteen seconds, he responds.

“Yes. However, the prefecture needs more information about this, um, transfer student. How old is she?”

“15.”

“Parents name…”

So, after forty minutes, Osamu was finally able to enter you in the school.

You feel too grateful to the point that guilt eats at you for what Osamu’s doing for you, although he did have to tell the principal lies, but only because he doesn’t know you well

As Osamu ends the call, he turns around and asks “so what was all that? You can speak fluent English?” You stare at him quizzically. “Of course I can! Do you think I’m uneducated??”

He laughs, but you notice a hint of relief. “No. But why did you speak English to the principal even though you could’ve talked to him in Japanese?”

“Uh- I- the thing is, well, I’m not sure if this theory is accurate,” you said slowly, “but I think that if I talk too quickly, I speak English and if i speak a little slower like right now, I talk in Japanese” you shrugged. “I don’t really know”

Osamu looks confused for a second. You can hear him mutter “things are really weird right now”

“Mhm. Sorry, but it really wasn’t my fault that i’m in another dimension” like hell it wasn’t

He sighs slightly, then suddenly looks a little less pressured. How did he manage to change his expression so quickly??? uwu

“anyways, the principal says that tomorrow morning you can visit the main office and pick up your schedule. I could take you there-”

You cut him off. “Again, it’s ok; you don’t really have to do that- Uh, also, don’t I need textbooks? Once again, I apologize-”

“No,. it’s fine. Like I said, I’m glad to help- As for the textbooks, the teacher gives them out at the beginning of the school year, but you could ask the office tomorrow”

He smiles- a little weary, but still breathtakingly beautiful.

“Thanks again.” You feel an urge to hug him right then, but you don’t, instead walking back to your room. Because, after all, you need to return to your home and away from everything you’ve seen in these past few days.

Several more hours pass, lapsing into the night, and then morning. 5:30 A.M.

You yawn, stretching your arms and kicking the covers. Another day, another chance.

Wait- why was it nearly 5:30 in the morning? Didn’t Osamu say yesterday that school started at 7:50? It was way ahead of your usual wake time.

You hastily brush your teeth, untangle your hair as quickly as possible, change into your own clothes, and open the door, tiptoeing across the living room toward the other room to ask Osamu why his usual alarm was set so early in the morning.

But he’s already up, making breakfast. He turns around and notices you walking strangely about the living room.

Shoot.

You fake-cough and stand up straight, brushing off imaginary debris from your shirt. “Good morning? Um, also why is your- I mean my alarm set at this time?

“Because we have volleyball practice, remember? And you asked me for help. So it would be rather convenient to watch us practice.”

“Oh yeahhhh- I forgot. Sorry. By the way, do you live by yourself? I mean, without your parents or any siblings?”

Osamu nods, his eyes still focused intently on whatever he’s cooking.

“Okay. Uh, I was also wondering what people would think if you, um, suddenly came to school after a weekend with an, uh, immigrant, or whoever they think I am. You know what I mean?”

“Oh.” He seems thoughtful. “I could say you’re my cousin who’s staying at my apartment for around a year” He shoots a look at you. “Because, you don’t really know when you’ll be returning, right?”

You glance at the clock. It’s exactly 5:39 A.M.

“Yeah. So when does practice start?”

“You do ask a lot of questions, huh?” You can see the hint of a smirk on his cheek, making you blush. “At 6 A.M.”

“So then why are you packing a lot of food?”

“My lunch, remember?” Now he finishes preparing the light breakfast and lunch, turning around. “And yours too.”

You stare at Osamu for a little longer than usual, but quickly catch yourself, averting your eyes from his.

“Thank you again. I really don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there to help me.”

You chuckle. It was such a lucky turn of events to meet him.

“Well, we only have around ten minutes to finish breakfast and clean up, so let’s hurry.” 

At approximately 6:00, you and Osamu enter a particularly large gym where a group of boys, the volleyball team, is warming up.

Whispers spread among them as they notice you following Osamu.

“Uh, ‘Samu? Who’s she?” A tall blond-haired boy, probably Atsumu, gestures toward you. 

Ah, so he wasn’t the flirting type that your friends like. Better tell them after you get back. If you even get back. If they would even believe you then.

“Oh, Y/N? She’s our cousin. She’s staying at my apartment”

You were pretty sure everyone on the team noticed the glare he shot at Atsumu. And you desperately wanted to climb under a rock and never come out. Nobody would believe that story now.

“Uh, well I’m only here to observe your practice. I just wanted to see everyone’s volleyball techniques and learn from there! Since I really want to advance my volleyball skills-” You cut in.

Your insides were shaking from the looks these tall boys gave you. You personally didn’t like the fact that people would view you as only Osamu’s cousin, but on the other hand, things could get fun.

“Sorry if I’m wasting everyone’s practice time. I- I should go”

“No, it’s fine.” A silver haired boy, whom you noticed was Kita, steps forward. “It’ll be nice to have someone watching and learning from our practice. And so that some people-” he shoots a glance at the twins “-won’t fool around.”

Ah. So he noticed how serious Osamu acted in front of you.

“Thank you.” You look down at your tattered shoes.

Although a few members of the team look at you cautiously, the others smile at you kindly.

As practice continues, you notice that there isn’t a female manager anywhere in the gym. Shaking your head, you focus again on the practice rally raging on. It was amazing how you had never known any sport that would involve so much shouting to cooperate and energy to race after the ball.

You were taking mental notes on volleyball techniques when a ball whizzed past you. You could literally feel the force traveling with the ball near your cheek. But then again, you were used to that stuff.

It bounced off the side wall and miraculously ended up beside your left foot. You picked up the ball carefully, checking for the brand name, and contented, threw it toward the next server. Atsumu. You had watched their routine, and it seemed that someone on the team or on the sidelines would retrieve the ball depending on where it was. So you had no worries of being judged. But all those thoughts vanished as Atsumu frowns at you.

And without even knowing the reason why he did so, you frown right back. It isn’t a big deal, but you decide that you would get over with Osamu’s twin brother right now. But then he smirks, averting his hazel eyes from you.

Out of the corner of your eye, a boy with weird dark hair turns away, clicking away on his phone.

“So what’s the deal with my brother?” Osamu asks as he leads you to the principal’s office at 7:20.

“Oh, nothing, just that he’s kinda rude?? And he doesn’t even know me! So why does he act like I’m his enemy? Wait- sorry I didn’t mean-”

“I agree.”

“HUh?” You looked at him, slightly amazed. “Oh yeah. You fight all the time.” No surprise there. “Welp, let’s see if we have any classes together in my new schedule”

Two minutes later~

“crot this” you mutter under your breath. “What am I supposed if I only have one class with you? If someone bullies me, I won’t make it out alive!!” you complained, voice lowering by the second as students nearby shoot looks at you. You could only imagine what they were thinking that had something to do with the new student, you.

“You’re exaggerating. It’s okay though, you have a class with Kita and two with Atsumu”

“oH okay, so you’re saying I have to put up with him??”

“Ignore him” He shrugs, indifferent about your so-called situation.

“Okay....”

The first part of the day went by fine. Except for some skeptical and often rude looks thrown in your direction, the teachers seemed kind and schoolwork was a breeze.

Holding the lunch Osamu prepared for you in a paper bag, you walk tentatively toward an empty table when you hear a voice behind you.

“Why don’t you come eat with us?”

You don’t need to turn around because Osamu’s already walking next to you.

“Maybe the others won’t feel comfortable? After all, I’m a stranger who randomly appeared in their school gym to watch them just practice?? Sounds suspicious, even to me. By the way, why did you lend me a room in your apartment? I bet others wouldn’t have, out of fear that they’ll be murdered or whatever”

Osamu stays silent for quite a while, and you two are nearing the volleyball team’s lunch table. You’re wondering whether you should apologize, but he says coolly, “That’s a good question. Although this might not make any sense, I invited you to stay because from the moment I saw you, a small voice in my mind said to help you” He shrugs. “It actually happened, believe it or not. How things have gotten weird these days”

Your mind’s racing for the nineteenth time today as you sit on a metal chair between Osamu and the dark-haired boy, Suna.

You don’t realize that you’re staring blankly into space until Osamu snaps his fingers in your face and says “Aren’t you going to eat your lunch?”

You shake your head to clear up your thoughts. “Yeah. Right.”

You pull out a recyclable container from the lunch bag, fumbling with the lid holds.

It was then all hell broke loose. 

And everything from here seemed like a movie on 2x speed.

You accidentally knocked down Osamu’s thermos/bottle, which was still open, and coffee spilled all over his lap and the floor.

You desperately grabbed some napkins and tried to clean up the mess while students from the other tables were bending over backwards to memorize this scene well, because it’s not every day someone spills water over someone’s lap and there’s chaos brewing in a normal high school. 

Suna was capturing the whole thing on camera, and Atsumu- well, Atsumu he actually was trying to help. 

But of course, that went wrong, because he somehow slipped on the floor drenched with water and landed flat on his back. 

Then a bunch of girls ran over one another to help him, and a teacher nearby rushed over to smooth things out. 

You figured that everything would be fine, because after all, it was a small accident, but some idiot decided it would be funny to throw his burger right in your face. See where I’m going with this? People shouldn’t follow this action, except: monkey see, monkey do. And humans are connected to monkeys, apes, whatever. So, just like in a cheesy cliche movie clip, a food fight commenced.

Fast forward a couple more minutes after lunch ends…

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You’re seated in the principal’s office on a firm wooden chair next to Osamu, half-listening to the principal’s lecture.

“First day of school and...blah blah... due to inappropriate blah blah, you are suspended-”

The moment your brain heard and processed the word “suspended” your defense mode activated and you started to protest about how it wasn’t your fault and people shouldn’t suppose that you’re a troublemaker just because it’s your first day of school here

The principal sighs. “I understand, but since we don’t have a janitor, you and the other kid-” he nods at Osamu “- will kindly clean up the mess.”

You sink in the chair, your hopes deflating by the second. “Okay.” A second later, Osamu nods in acquiesce. It would be a hard day tomorrow.

The principal seems to read your mind because he adds, “Oh- and you two start today.”

reblogs are always appreciated! thank you for reading :)

[beyyy23]

Looking Back to the Past: My Life Pre-Pandemic

I miss the old days, even if its very exhausting to wake up at 5:00 am, take a shower, eat, commute to school. I would stay i still prefer the life back then, back when we have no or so things to be scared of outside, back when we’re still free to do what we want, back when we still can.

I miss the loud noises of my classroom, everyone laughing, telling jokes and stories, scrolling through social media and sharing all an all there is to find. Then getting told off by our teacher to quiet down, and how we’re the loudest of all the section in our grade levels. That was certainly something that i would love to feel again, something that i want to happen again.

I miss lunch breaks, the smell of other people’s food cheers me up, as a food enthusiast myself. I love the noises and chaos in the cafeteria, everyone giving their hand out and hoping Ate Baby and her co-workers notice them. I love how literally everyone is racing, since 15 minutes isn’t enough time. The crunchy sounds of Turon, the frying sounds of Fries, and the sizzling sounds of the Burger Patty. Wish i could bear see it again.

What i love the most are the times at class, there’s people eating at the back, people not listening, someone secretly scrolling on their phone, some genuinely listening, and those two couples who literally can’t get off each other. Those are the times that i definitely miss the most, the old classroom, the noises. Now, its just in my head, as memories that i wish to happen again.

What truly is best is after-class, the street vendors outside selling Fishball and Kikiam, one of my favorites are those Japanese Cakes that has cheese inside, i would save up money just to buy those, they’re so good and fluffy. Then there’s the rushing at the jeepneys, every time its full to the brim, you have to be fast to catch one out; or you could just do what some people do and walk to Alamaris, on there, there’s jeepneys, not even full yet. Most of the times, me and my friends walk there, since it saves us waiting time, and because its fun to walk with your friends, just feelin’ the breeze of the air, talking about how school went.

And of course, back home, it feels so satisfying to lay in your bed after a long day, certainly one of the best feelings out there. Then i do my tasks, chores, activities and assignments, and other stuff that i like doing. Sometimes, me, my sister, and my aunt watch movies at night, while eating dinner of course. It still happens now, but its not like before, as all things are.

Then i prepare for sleep, i close my laptop, put my phone on the side, go to my bed, and think about what have happened on that day. The memories of what happened, things and situations i wish to happen again, in keepsakes. I think of all of these as my mind steeps away from consciousness, and i slowly fall asleep, to the land of where i can relive all again.

Oh how i wish for this pandemic to end, as so others do too. We may not get back to our old lives, but we can still relive everything, even if its all just in our memories, its still there, waiting to be thought out. It may not be like before, but we can make it better than before. 

Have a good day to you, keep safe, thank you for reading, and as always:

                                  May god bless you, and us all.

[crewhonk]

Only Happy Accidents (12)

AN: I’m actually really sorry about this

Warnings: *deep breath* scared Steve, labour, Ms. YLN prays over YN and Steve and baby (its Christian prayer), swearing, incorrect medicine, lots of blood, childbirth complications, dying wishes, trauma, very angry Steve, hatred against newborns, Steve is a dick, Steve is scared, Helen cho has a good poker face, Helen cho is badass and isn't afraid of anything 

Only Happy Accidents (master list)

____________________

July 3rd, labour day 1

“Say You Love Me”— Jessie Ware

8:00pm

“You were in labour and you didn’t tell me?!” Steve hissed as he stormed around the room, shoving things in a backpack— YN wasn’t sure what he was doing, since everything was already in the med bay but she stayed silent, letting him do his thing. 

“You deserved to have a day that was about you! Everything these past few months has been about me, and I wanted you to have some time where you were the star, okay!” YN snapped back, frustrated. She had thrown on her dress again since he’d passed out, but he had woken up quickly enough, eyes wild and searching for YN.

“I understand that, but this is my kid too, YN! I deserved to know that he was on his way!” Steve pointed a finger, and YN bared her teeth. 

“Don’t you dare point a fucking finger in my face, Steven!” YN barked, irritation spiking when she could feel another contraction go through her body. Steve had almost immediately downloaded a timing app on her phone after waking up, and she clicked it, hunching over her stomach almost protectively. Noticing she was going through a contraction, he rushed over, but stopped when she put up one finger. The contraction subsided and YN looked up at Steve, eyes on fire. 

“Look. I’m sorry I wanted you to be the star of the day. I’m sorry I wanted to take a step back after you doting on me every second of every day and just have some fucking time with your friends for once! I was practically a stranger a few months ago, and then I’m the centre of your world for nine consecutive months and you don’t get any time for yourself and it’s not fair!” YN explained, tears in her eyes and Steve softened slightly, falling to his knees in front of her and holding her hips. 

“YN, I want you to be the centre of my world. I want you to be my priority, and I don’t want to be the centre of attention— I’ve had that since Erskine talked to me. Trust me when I say I’ve had enough attention to last me countless lifetimes.” Steve said, voice low but strong. YN nodded, and leaned her forehead against his. 

“I just don’t want you to fall out of love with me because I’m not carrying your baby.” She admitted and Steve made a sound that broke YN’s heart. 

“Baby. Sweetheart. My beautiful, sexy, funny wife believe me when I say, that the next morning after Halloween, I decided you were going to be my wife at one point or another. Believe me when I say that I knew it from the first moment that you were it for me. Sexy pirate, baby mama, wife, future museum curator, all of it— the second I met you I knew I was done.” Steve gushed, and when he was finished, he wiped the tears streaming from YN’s eyes. 

“I feel like I’m in a love story, Steve— this doesn’t happen to people in real life.” YN cried and Steve offered a wet smile. 

“It happened to us, Ma. Now, how about we go have a little baby, huh?” He asked, pulling her to her feet. She took a few seconds to steady herself and looked up at him sharply, suddenly overcome with dread. 

“Steve.”

“What.”

“We don’t have a name.”

________________________

9:00 PM

The hospital gown, no matter how YN tied it, wasn’t cute. Sure, it was soft, but it didn’t tie all the way in the back and it showed off the adult diaper she had to wear to catch the fluids leaking from her, which was odd considering her water had yet to actually break. 

“This is awful. This is the worst thing I’ve ever worn.” YN pouted, looking in the mirror and frowning at how… round she looked. Sure, she’d had bad body days before this, but she couldn’t look like this today. Her baby was coming and YN just really wanted to make a good impression. 

“I think you’re sexy.” Steve piped up from across the room and YN snorted, enjoying the chorus of laughter that joined her. Bucky, Nat and Sam were all in the room, having pulled in couches from the living room to accommodate everyone. 

“Very funny, Rogers.”

“Seriously. Sexiest diaper I’ve ever seen.” He joked, winking at you through the mirror and you scoffed, throwing a nearby chapstick at him. 

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.” Sam said, and YN rolled her eyes, a friendly smile on her face. 

“People have called mom, right?” YN looked around the room and Natasha nodded. 

“Moms on her way.” She informed and YN nodded, wringing her hands and walking towards the window. The sun as setting now, deep oranges and purples painting the sky and somehow settling YN’s anxious heart. She was hooked up to portable monitors, now and the steady beep of heart heart beat echoes around the room. Steve had taken YN directly to Cho following their fight, and after a sweep of YN’s cervix, Cho had informed that YN was 5 centimetres dilated and was since checked in— she was officially in active labour. 

“Steve.” YN called and he was by her side in an instant. YN grabbed his hands and tucked herself into his chest, groaning into his shirt as another, stronger contraction rock her. She felt it not only in her lower belly, but shattering up her spine and stealing her breath. 

“Breathe, Mama.” He cooed, letting her dig her fingernails into his skin, rocking her and kissing her hairline. “Doin’ so good, Ma. You got this.” He whispered, acting quickly and picking her up and onto his lap as he knees gave out. He angled her to straddle him, thinking that it would be good for her legs to keep open. He continued rubbing her back and speaking sweet nothings into her ear as she curled into him as close as she could, shaking with aftershocks even after the contraction had gone. 

“Holy fuck.” YN berthed into his neck and he chuckled. 

“That was a good one, YN. You killed it.” He reassured and YN sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her neck, trying her best to keep her muscles from bunching up too much. 

“Your kid is a pain in my ass.” She cursed and put her hands on his pecs, glaring down at him with swollen eyes. Instead of responding, Steve tilted his chin towards her and she leaned in, kissing him quickly before letting him help her to her feet so she could continue her pacing. She glanced over at the group of people on the couch, and flushed lightly at the thought of them seeing her like that— so vulnerable. 

Sam and Bucky looked horrified, but impressed and Natasha looked proud, and almost a little sad. This was all interrupted by Cho walking in with a handful of long, metal tools. 

“Hey, Mom.” She greeted YN and YN smiled weakly, eyeing to tools suspiciously. “So, I think we could progress this a little quicker if I broke your water, since it hasn’t broken yet. It should encourage the process.” She smiled and YN looked nervously as Steve before nodding. She was helped immediately up on the bed and after Steve kicked out Sam and Bucky for obvious reasons, sat by YN’s head as she put her feet into the stirrups. 

“Scared you’re gonna pass out again?” YN teased and he blushed, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles. 

“I’m never living that down, am I.”

“Never.”

Cho made quick work of the water, and Steve watched as YN felt it. It felt less dramatic than she had imagined it, but still felt about five pounds lighter than she had mere seconds ago. 

“Woah.” Yn whispered and Steve chuckled, kissing her forehead softly and praising her once more. 

________________________

“Breathe (2AM)”— Anna Nalick

10:15 PM

The pain got worse for YN after the water had been broken. The contractions were hitting harder and faster, and YN felt as if her whole body was on fire. There was a constant leaking from YN’s vagina that made her feel gross and unnattractive, but the way Steve held her and kissed her and made her feel like she was a damn superhero made it almost worth it. 

After another body-trembling contraction passed, YN reached towards Steve who took her hand. 

“Can we shower. I need a shower, maybe it’ll help to have hot water.” YN slurred, pain making her a little bleary of the world. Steve nodded and made quick work of her gown— the diaper having been long gone, and pulled her into the bathroom and standing shower. He took of his pants and shirt, and leaving his underwear on, stepped under the hot stream of water. He took the second detachable shower head and angled it at YN’s core and she sighed, nodding into his shoulder at the small bit of relief it gave her. 

The relief disappeared quickly, however, when another course fo pain rocketed through her body, making her knees tremble. Steve held her in his arms, shushing her and holding her as she short of screamed into his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the muscle and growling. 

“Steve, Steve I can’t— this— I hurts.” YN whimpered, cutting herself off with a scream that tore his heart into two. “I need— mom. Where’s my mom.” She sobbed and Steve looked back towards the door at Nat who was hovering worriedly. 

“She’s just pulling in, Sweets. She’ll be here in a minute okay?” Natasha said and YN nodded, clutching Steve and shaking— chills and jitters cutting through the hot water of the shower. It wasn’t long until her mom came into the bathroom and YN sobbed with relief. 

“Mommy, you came I wasn’t sure—“

“Of course I would come for you, my love. You’re my baby girl and always will be no matter what anyone thinks, okay?” The older lady reassured and Steve mouthed a quick thank you o her which she smiled softly at. 

“Mama, I know that I haven’t been to church in years, but can you— can you pray for me and Steve and baby? Please, I just need to know that He’s watching out for us.” YN cried, pain making her tired and emotional— hell, if Steve had been labouring for fourteen hours, he’d probably be dead in the street somewhere. Steve made room for Ms. YLN as she leaned into the shower, placing one hand on Steve’s shoulder and the other on YN’s. She bowed her head, and waited for the lump in her throat to pass before she spoke. 

“Dear Heavenly Father, watch over this new family. Allow for the reprieve and mercy of pain, and allow for YN to have as safe a labour as possible. Allow for Steve to stay strong and resilient by her side as YN pushes her body to its limits— those same limits You set for her. Allow her a healthy, strong baby, and I call for Your blessing over this labour and the baby’s life. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.” She finished and Steve sniffed as he held his sobbing wife body. Her own wet hand had come to clutch her mothers bicep and her lips trembled as she thanked her. 

“Thank you, Mommy. That meant so, so much.” YN said, and Ms. YLN nodded, leaning in and kissing YN’s wet forehead. 

“It meant so much to me too, Bear.”

_________________________

July 4th, Steve and baby’s birthday

12:00 AM

“The Middle”— Mree / “The Funeral”— Band of Horses

Steve liked to think he was brave. He’d done a lot of really cool things in his life that required a lot of bravery, but right now Steve had never been more afraid in his life. YN had been in labour for an ongoing sixteen hours and the four hours YN had been in active labour had so far been the worst of his life. Sure, he was over the moon over the fact that he was going to meet his baby soon, but seeing YN in this much pain, begging for him to help her stop the pain and not having any sense of control was scary, and Steve didn’t feel very brave if he was going to be honest. 

Especially when YN was shutting down on him after hearing Dr. Cho telling her that her cervix hadn’t dilated any further since she’d entered active labour. She stared forlornly out of the window, eyes on the stars as Steve held her opposite hand, kissing her knuckles and watching her, silently begging for her to look at him. Natasha had brought in electric candles and a speaker to help YN relax and create a comfortable atmosphere. Maybe it was working, Steve wasn’t sure. Any sort of contraction that shattered YN to her bones was only felt through Steve’s hand. YN’s body remained limp against the sheets as she continued to stare— the only indication of her being alive still was the heart monitor and the death grip on his hand every three minutes. 

“Baby.” He whispered as she loosened her grip, panting slightly as another contraction finished. Finally, she lolled her head towards him, and Steve wants to cry when she saw how puffy and dark her eyes had gotten. She looked so damn tired and hopeless and Steve would have given anything to take her pain from her. Anything. 

“Sweetheart, please.” He whispered and YN closed her eyes, frown tugging at her lips. 

“What, Steve?” Her voice was hard, but it shook with frustration and grief. 

“I don’t— I don’t know.” He admitted, and YN opened his eyes. “I’m scared. And I want you to look at me.”

“I’m scared too, if that helps.” YN tried to smile, shrugging her shoulders and looking back up at the roof. 

“I’m sorry I did this to you, baby.” He murmured and YN looked at him sharply. Her vision swam with the quick movement and she squinted her eyes at her husband. 

“I’m not. Steve Rogers, don’t you ever apologize for giving me a normal life. Never apologize for you giving me a baby, and marrying me, and taking all of this responsibility even though we were complete strangers when we met. Don’t you dare apologize, you have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” YN said, voice strong and Steve nodded, unfurling her fist in his hands and kissing her clammy palm. The salt on his lips was still there when she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him softly. She kissed him until a low moan rumbled from her throat, and she pressed her forehead against his as she rocked her body through the pain. Eventually her familiar, warm eyes met his and he nodded. 

“Good girl, baby.” He praised and she smiled, nodding and falling back to her pillows. There was a stretch of silence as the song switched, a familiar song coming through the speaker Nat had brought. 

“Love this song.” YN hummed, lolling her head from one side to another, and Steve stood, making her look at him. He held out his hands to her and wiggled his fingers, beckoning for her to take them. “What?”

“Dance with me. Maybe it’ll help.” He tried, and YN blushed lightly.

“I’m sweaty.” She whispered and he rolled his eyes, making ‘gimme’ motions with his hands. 

“You’re beautiful.” He smiled and YN couldn’t help but smile and bite her bottom lip, rolling to sit up straight and letting Steve pull her to her feet. He lead her to the middle of the room after slipping her slippers on her feet, pulling her into his arms and just swaying. They had tried to dance like they used to in the ‘good ol’ days’, but Steve had two left feet when he tried, so swaying would have to suffice. 

YN wrapped her hands around his waist, tucking her fingers into the back pockets of his jeans as his hot hands rubbed her back, soothing her and pressing lightly into the muscles he knew bugged her when she was stressed. They spun in circles for what could have been an hour or a year or three seconds, but the contractions that came seemed manageable in his arms. They seemed manageable when he could pepper words of praises and kisses across her sweating hairline. 

“I love you, YN Rogers, and I’m in awe of how damn powerful you are, okay?” He whispered and YN shook in his arms, nodding into his shoulder as he continued to sway her. “How’s the dancing?”

“Dancing helps.” There was a period of silence before YN popped her head up quickly. “What time is it?”

Steve glanced at the clock on the wall and squinted, his eyes dry from exhaustion. 

“Midnight.” 

YN jumped up on her toes as eagerly as she could, cupping Steve’s face in her hands and kissing him quickly all over his face before wrapping her arms around his neck and giggling as she was spun in the air slowly. 

“What was that for?” Steve laughed as he set her gently on her feet again, stars shining in his eyes as he looked down at his best girl. 

“It’s your birthday, Steve. Happy birthday.” She whispered against his lips and he smiled, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her belly press hard against his own. 

“Best birthday ever, honestly.”

___________________________

3:00 AM

Six hours into active labour, Dr. Cho did a sweep of YN’s cervix, and upon new that she’d dilated from five centimetres to six centimetres. 

“That’s good, right? Progress.” Steve asked, hopefully and Cho gave her best ‘yes and no’ patient smile. 

“Well, progress is progress, but with the water having been broken for more than six hours with such slow progress, there’s more and more of a risk of infection for mom. YN, your cervix is also getting a little swollen, so that may impede your progress just a little bit.” Cho said, grimly and YN dropped Steves hand, curling them around her belly. 

“So what do we do?”

“I know we said we weren’t going to do an epidural, but it could help the muscles in your abdomen and the cervix itself relax.” Cho tried and YN sank back, looking at her cuticles and trying her damn best not to cry. She’d always imagined herself being one of those badass moms in the birthing vlogs she watched on youtube— catching their own babies in a tub and doing it at home and without epidural, but they hadn’t told her about the pain— the raw, genuine, awful pain that she was feeling currently as well as how damn disheartening it was to make such little progress. She looked at Steve who nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin line. 

“I want you to be safe, and seeing you in this much pain is the worst thing I’ve experienced. I can’t make you do anything, but I think it could be a good idea.” He tried, treading lightly. YN, if she was in less pain, she would have told Steve that she felt as if she had some sort of control over her body without it, but the exhaustion in her bones and the twitching of her muscles screamed for relief. 

“Let’s do it, please.” YN begged and Steve relaxed, leaning forward towards YN and pressing his head against her stomach. 

“Thank you.” He murmured. 

So, this is how YN found herself tied down with wires and three catheters, stuck to the bed until Steve’s child decided to enter the world. Steve watched as she slept, contractions coming and going as mere pressure when they came. 

YN cracked an eye open, and Steve smiled tiredly at her. She ran he palm down the side fo his face and he rested his head in her hand, sighing and shutting his burning eyes. 

“Steve, get up here, please.” She whispered, and he lifted his head, shaking it slightly. 

“Gotta make sure, you’re okay.” He whispered, knowing that if he got into bed with his wife he would sleep like a god damn rock. 

“We’re okay. Come sleep, we’re not going to be getting any more sleep for a while so let’s catch up while we still can.” YN smiled, pulling at his arm and cheering when he conceded, pulling the heavy quilt that Ms. YLN had brought them. Steve, careful of the wires and tubes, pulled YN into his arms, holding her jittery body in his arms and closing his eyes, the weight of his wife and unborn child lulling him into the most comforting nap he’d ever had. 

_____________________________

“Pretty Things”— Big Thief

6:15 AM

Someone was screaming. Loudly, somewhere very close to his ear. Steve woke with a jolt, and upon immediately waking up and looking down at his wife, found the something was very, very wrong. YN was screaming, yelling for Dr. Cho and her mother, but she was not yelling from the pain— the epidural, thankfully, allowed her to not feel whatever was making her bleed. 

Maybe bleeding was an understatement, considering that the lower half of the quilt was warm and red and sticky, and Steve hands were covered in it. 

“Steve! Steve, what’s going on?!” YN cried, clutching her stomach and shaking. Steve looked down at the blood in shock, and he complied easily when four hands pulled him off of the bed. The quilt was torn from the bed by Cho, and Steve felt a wave of nausea tear through his body. 

There was so much blood. 

“Steve! Help me!” YN sobbed, and Steve remained frozen. He did not feel very brave at all. 

“It must have not shown up on the scans. Damn it!” Cho cursed, pressing a button attached to the bed and flattening it, throwing the pillows across the room and barking orders at her nurses. YN continued to cry, looking up at Steve, who upon realizing that this was not just a really, really bad dream, snapped out of his fog and rushed to YN, grabbing her hand and walking with the bed as it began to roll out of the room and towards the small operating room at the back of the small clinic. 

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, I promise.” Steve ignored Cho’s sharp look as she pushed the bed faster, eyeing the blood nervously. “You’re going to come out of this, okay?” 

YN cried, and cupped his cheek. 

“Sarah. You name the baby Sarah if it’s a girl after your mom and Charlie if it’s a boy— after my dad. They go to a good public school— enough to get a solid education but do NOT send them to a private school they’ll turn into a bitch. They get to go on all their high school trips. It’s something that I wish I did, and you retire, okay? If I’m not there they need someone to raise them with everything they need. And Steve, you tell them the good things. You tell them that we were happy and that we loved each other and that this was the best nine months I’ve ever had because I had the family I always dreamed of having. You tell them the good parts.” YN demanded, and Steve felt his eyes well up with tears, his face becoming wet within seconds. 

“You’re not dying. You can’t die.” Steve whimpered, sounding a broken man. 

“Wow, no pressure.” YN said, voice now weak. Her skin was the palest and most translucent Steve had ever seen, and her lips were blue. Her grip on his hand was weak, and her eyes grew glossy soon enough.

“I’m serious, YN.” He called out as she was rolled into the OR, the nurses working quickly to prep her for surgery. Just as Cho made to step in, Steve grabbed her arm tightly and stared her down with all the emotion he could muster. 

“If it comes down to her or the baby, you save her. I will not survive without her do you hear me?” He snarled, face contorting with fear and anger. Cho jerked her arm from Steve’s grip and glared harder, straightening her posture and staring Steve down. 

“How about you let me do my damn job.” Cho demanded, and walked into the room, shutting the door and leaving Steve alone in the hallway. Unaware of Natasha, Sam and Bucky staring at him, he pressed himself against the wall beside the door, slid down it, wrapped his arms around his knees, and for the first time in eighty years, sobbed like he had never sobbed before. 

____________________________

6:40 AM

Steve had been coaxed to the waiting room chairs and his hands were cleaned of YN’s blood, and he was given new clothes which he was helped into in the middle of the waiting room. Once changed, he resumed his curled up position and stared at the trail of blood leading from the room where YN was last okay to the room where he didn’t know if she was alive or not. Steve watched as the custodian mopped the trail, leaving the acrid smell of bleach behind. Steve stared at the polished floor, not feeling Bucky’s and on his shoulder, and not feeling Natasha’s hand on his knee. 

Steve continued to stare at the floor as a nurse walked up, afraid to see the expression on her face. The words she spoke were muffled and far away, but he heard them. 

“Steve, you have a beautiful baby boy. He’s healthy and crying and all of his tests have passed with flying colours. Would you like to see him?” Steve blinked slowly, body swaying as Bucky and Sam clapped his shoulders. He moved slowly, looking up at the nurse who as beaming down a him and he squinted. He felt as if his body was not his own, moving both too fast and too slow to feel like it. 

“Where’s— YN. Is she..” He trailed off, heart feeling frozen in his chest— that is if it was even there any more. 

“There was another complication, she’s still in surgery, and it could be a while.” The nurse said, and Steve’s lips and chin wobbled. He felt more tears dance down his cheekbones and into his beard. “You can see your son, though.”

Steve blinked and sank back into his chair. 

“No.”

______________________________

“Toronto”— Tusks

8:00 AM

Exactly one day ago, YN Rogers was staring out over the compound grounds from Steve Rogers window, smiling at the touch of the warm July breeze and kissing Steve happily. Her body was warm and soft and tangible in his hands, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to remember the last time he was alone and happy and carefree with the woman he loved. The memory already felt like it happened a while ago— it was grey and distant and the images in his mind were fuzzy. Her face was blurry, and her laugh wasn’t quite right, no matter how much he squeezed his eyes and thought about it. He tried to remember how she smelled, and how she jolted when his fingers danced over her ribs or how they would spend hours in bed before either of them even thought about getting up. But the happy— the good things he was supposed to try to tell the kid about were marred but he sound of her screams and her hands gripping him and the trail of blood that was bleached hours ago. 

He had a kid. A son, he was supposed to name Charlie. A beautiful, innocent son that didn’t deserve the black spot he had in Steve’s heart. Natasha had come back after meeting him, and she had said that Charlie had Steve’s nose, and YN’s lips and eyes and hair and cried like a banshee which was a good thing apparently, since it meant the kid had good lungs. 

“He needs you, Steve. He should be in your arms and hearing your voice.” Natasha whispered and Steve’s eyes, dark and angry snapped up to her. 

“That kid could have killed the woman I loved. As far as I care, until YN comes out of that OR alive, that’s no kid of mine.” Steve snarled, standing suddenly and making Natasha jump back. She had never seen her best friend this angry before— not fighting, not as Nomad. She had never seen Steve this dark, and as he slammed his shoulder against her own as he stormed out of the med bay, her knees gave out and she fell, shaking into one of the chairs. 

____________________________

“Rescue”— Lauren Daigle

9:19 AM

Steve was sitting on a roll of grass not far from the entrance to the compound, resting his chin against his arms and staring sightlessly at the recruits training far away. Imagine being that carefree, he thought. To have woken up today and pressed snooze. To have rushed a shower and breakfast to make it to the gym in time. To have smiled at a friend and felt excitement when you completed the ‘Captains Circuit’ for the first time successfully. 

Steve remained still as he heard someone walk up behind him. He stayed still as Bucky cleared his throat and groaned slightly as he joined Steve on the grass. Steve stayed still when Bucky cleared his throat and opened his mouth. 

“He’s gorgeous, Steve. He has your spunk, I think— he spit up on Nat when she made a bad joke. He’s fat, too. Really chubby and soft and he’s really alert and he keeps looking around the room for someone he finds familiar. Someone who talked to him when he was cookin’ and his Ma was sleepin’. Someone who left the house at four in the morning to go to the Bronx for the right Pizza cause his Ma was craving it. Someone who painted him a beautiful room and who made sure his development was as safe as possible. He’s looking for his father, but all he’s getting is uncles and aunts and nurses and—“

“Shut up.” Steve mumbled and Bucky glared hard at him. 

“No I will not—“

“Shut the fuck up, James Barnes.” Steve snarled, and Bucky stood to his feet, walking in front of Steve and kicking his foot hard enough to make Steve flinch. 

“You listen—“

“SHUT UP!” Steve roared, and he could hear the grounds fall quiet. He could hear the training stop and the word quiet and he swore the Earth stopped turning just for one second. 

“NO!” Bucky screamed back, not backing down when Steve rose to his feet and got in his face. “You’re scared I get that! But if YN lives and finds out that you weren’t there for your baby boy in his first few hours how will she fucking feel about that, huh? How will she feel about how her husband and the man she loves screamed at his best friends and ignored the fact that his son hasn’t stopped crying because he’s scared and there’s not one familiar thing around him. How will she feel when she finds out that you fucking failed her?” Bucky snarled, and Steve shrank back and blinked. 

“And if she doesn’t come out of this? You’re dishonouring her memory and her dying wish that this kid should have a good life. You’re a coward, Steve Rogers.” Bucky spat and Steve stumbled back at his best friends words, the first wave of aggression telling him to hit Bucky until he was unrecognizable and bleeding on the ground— to spit on his body and get in a car and drive far and fast away from this god damn place. However, the second wave— the love he felt for the woman he swore he would breathe for stopped him. The second wave made his eyes grow hot and wet, and his bottom lip tremble. The second wave made his back slouch and shoulders slump and start to fall to his knees, and upon the sight of seeing his best friend shrink in on himself, Bucky Barnes caught his elbows and pulled him tight, supporting all of Steve weight as he sobbed, without restraint, into Bucky’s shoulder. 

“How about we go introduce you to your son, huh?”

_________________________

“Love Like This”— Lauren Daigle

9:30 AM

“I should have shaved. I look like a fuckin’ slob.” Steve cursed, running his hand over his chin as he passed a window. Bucky rolled his eyes next to him, but continued to walk beside him in case Steve’s knees gave out again. 

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky reassured and Steve wrung his hands. 

“I’ve already been a shit dad, what if he doesn’t like me? What if I continue being a shit dad?” Steve worried, fear gripping his heart at the idea. God, if YN didn’t make it and if he was a bad father, what the hell was he supposed to do? He didn’t even know how to be a good dad— how the fuck was he supposed to do it as a widow?

“Steven.” Bucky shushed and Steve nodded, coming up to the door where his son was. Bucky, upon waiting long enough for Steve to not open the door, opened it himself and pushed it open. 

The room was open and airy— it smelled clean and the blankets looked soft and welcoming— YN would have loved them, maybe even convinced Steve to steal some of them for their own house. The room had a good, calming atmosphere— except for the screaming. 

Natasha was bouncing lightly on her feet, a blue bundle in her arm as she tried but failed to angle a bottle at it properly. The bundle was the thing making the noise, and Steve felt his heart jump into his throat. He shoved the image of YN’s screams aside and focussed very hard on the bundle. 

“Nat.” Bucky’s voice sounded far away, and when Natasha turned towards it, Steve’s breath stopped in his chest. 

Charlie was crying, his small, tiny face was as red as a tomato, and it was twisted around the screams coming from his little mouth. Steve stumbled forward, and upon closer inspection, Steve recognized YN’s nose, and his own chin and brow bone. As he got closer, Steve’s heart ached— in fact, his whole body ached and he looked nervously from Natasha to the baby. 

“Charlie— look who it is.” Natasha said over his cries, walking over to Steve and coaching him on how to wrap his arms around him. Steve felt stupidly big as he took Charlie in his arms— his head was no larger than the size of his palm for gods sake. Upon feeling the overwhelming heat from Steve’s body, the screams softened into sobs and he looked up, scared. 

“What’s going on?” Steve worried as the baby got quieter and quieter. “Why’s he stopping?”

“He hears your voice and feels you— it’s familiar.” Natasha nodded, patting his shoulder and looking down at Charlie. Natasha pulled Buky from the room, having the two persons alone together, and Steve’s entire universe seemed to shift— just the slightest, as Charlie stopped crying, wrinkled face smoothing out as Steve continued to rock him. 

“H-hi.” Steve stuttered, and Charlie hiccupped. “I’m uhh— I’m your dad, I guess.” He tried, regretting that he sounded so damn lame. The baby made a small noise and Steve felt the dark place his heart was right now warm a little. “I’m sorry I’ve been a bad dad, pal. Your Ma— she’s not doing so well and I’m scared because I love her a lot. She was— is— my world, and I—“ Steve cut himself off, tightening his arms slightly. “I’m gonna try my best to make it up to you, baby. Treat you the way your Ma and I wanted to from the beginning.” He whispered, lips shaking with grief and fear and love. 

Without looking from Charlie, he walked to a chair and sat, grabbing the bottle from the table beside him and angling it awkwardly to his lips— YN’s lips.

“We gotta eat, though okay? You Ma would kill me if you got hungry.” He whispered, pressing the nipple of the bottle to his lips, and he sucked in a breath when the little mouth opened, taking the nipple into his mouth and beginning to drink the formula. The little guy finished the bottle quickly— there wasn’t much in it to begin with. Steve, remembering the birthing classes we went to with YN, threw a small towel from the table beside him over his shoulder and lifted Charlie onto it, tapping his back as gently as he could until the smallest, quietest of burps sounded. 

Steve lowered Charlie in his arms, too astounded at this… being he created to say anything. God, how he regretted his anger and fear and resentment to this perfect little human. Well, he thought he regret it until his eyes opened. 

YN’s eyes stared back at him, surrounded by Steve’s eyelashes— large and slightly unfocussed and YN’s eyes. Steve felt his body clench around his rapidly warming heart and he let out a dry sob, tracing a huge finger down Charlie’s fat little cheek as he curled himself around him. No matter how the rest of the day panned out, Steve knew, with one look at Charlie, that YN would live within him forever. YN would be staring back at him from a crib, or a carseat, or from his arms as he tried his best to stay awake in that rocking chair because he’s be damned if he wasn’t watching over him one second of a day. YN’s eyes would be looking at him as Charlie took his first step or said his first word or as he looked back at Steve while he bravely walked into his first day of school. YN’s lips would frown and smile and laugh and yell, and Steve would brush YN’s hair, styling it properly and kissing it any damn chance he got. 

“I love you.” Steve whispered, voice cracking as a tear dripped from the tip of his nose onto the soft blanket. “I love you, I love you, I love you, my Charlie. I love you.” He bent over and pressed his nose to Charlies tiny chest and sniffed as he felt Charlie’s hands curl into Steve’s beard. His grip was strong— strong enough anyways for such little hands. “I love you.”

Steve could have been there for days— he wasn’t too sure, but the bubble he had constructed around him and his beautiful, innocent son was burst when a polite cough sounded from the doorway. Steve looked up quickly, and his heart— now warm and bright with love for this little bundle hammered in his chest. 

It was Helen Cho, and her face had no expression.

_______________________________

Tag List (send me an ask, ONLY. must interact with the fic more than a like): yesfanficsaremylife / notyourtypicalrose /  laurxn-robinson / disaster-rose / lille-kattunge / wwecrazed2010 / vxidnik / chewingoffmyfoot/ vitamingrant / captainamericasbeard / chrisgalore / songforhema / mmyepic / multifandommandy / tommyhoe / lostdarksoul6 / crist1216 / taeeemin / jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory / feelmyroarrrr / teller258316 / mrsdeanwinchester19 / qrangr / mariswritingforfun / nerdypinupcrystal / kittycatlover18 / laucontrerasv / printedpeterparker / @dumblani  / @captainomad / eversonaive / rainbowkisses31 / i-think-i-am-adorable / rainbowkisses31 / smalltintedgorl/ geeksareunique / jennmurawski13 / clutteredmind-emptythoughts / venezuelaanklemayonnaise / manuosorioh

[words-in-air]

00:00

Mikan sets her phone down on the nightstand and rubs her eyes, keeping them closed as she stretches. It's been a long day. Mikan looks next to her, where her boyfriend grunts peacefully. In his sleep, Natsume looks like an angel, the juxtaposition within him of elegance and something raw and ethereal.

As if he can sense her eyes on him, Natsume's eyes flutter open. When he sees Mikan very much not asleep, he props himself up sleepily on one elbow, his eyes asking a question.

Mikan obliges. The kiss is salty. "I'm nervous," she admits.

"I wish you would have let me done it."

"It wouldn't have worked, if it was you. Hotaru and I have a special connection that can't be explained, just like Alices can't be explained."

"Still, I'm the one who owes Imai," Natsume says quietly. "I owe her my life."

"No," Mikan smiles. "I owe her my life. I get to go to bed and wake up in the morning to this bad breath. Go to sleep already."

"Only if you spoon me, Polka," Natsume smirks.

"Big baby." Mikan tugs the bedroom lamp, plunging the room into darkness. She wraps her skinny arms around Natsume’s hot skin. I love you, she mouths against his back.

“”MmLove you too,” Natsume mumbles. He’s already dreaming. As usual, Mikan is in his dreams. They are sweet.

06:00

When Mikan and Natsume arrive at the Alice Academy Hospital Wing, Narumi and Yuu are there to greet them. “Narumi-sensei!” Mikan cries, running into his arms.

“Mikan!” Narumi crows, hugging her tightly to his chest. He catches Natsume’s eyes playfully. Natsume glares and ignores him: “Hey, Yuu.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shite.”

“Language.”

The two men share a laugh. “You know what I remember?” Yuu says, almost wistfully. “That time my Alice was stolen, and how Hotaru got shot, and how you and Mikan and Ruka and Tsubasa-senpai tried to find the antidote. You were all trying to out hero each other even then. I hope that you know you don’t have to do anything. Hotaru wouldn’t want that.”

“You know Mikan. It isn’t about debt or trying to be heroic,” Natsume replies. “It’s about love and necessity. That Hotaru is Mikan’s soulmate I’ve already known for a long time. Because I know she needs to do this, I’m standing back and letting her make her decision. Because I understand. It’s like me and Ruka.”

Yuu is raising his eyebrows.

“What,” Natsume says, a little embarrassed at the passion he put into that little speech.

“Just waiting for you to say no homo.”

“Yes homo, dude. I love Ruka. No need to hide anything.”

“I love how humorous you’ve become after dating Mikan,” Yuu remarks.

Meanwhile, said subject is going over paperwork. “Mikan, are you sure?” Narumi sensei asks. He thinks of Mikan as his own child. He also thinks Mikan has never resembled Yuka more than in this moment, determination emanating ferociously from her expression.

Of course, her response is relaxed and chipper. “Yes, sensei. It’s not that she’s done so much for me. It’s that I don’t know who I am without her. And I don’t want to know who I am without her, either. I’m sick of living a half filled life. I want to live with Hotaru by my side.”

Before Narumi can say anything, Mikan cuts him a look. “Please don’t say anything about her body and soul still being in the hospital. I know. I come here to see her everyday. And I also know that she’s not going to get better by herself at this rate.”

“You don’t know that though,” Narumi finds himself arguing. “This is a gamble. You’re gambling half of your organs away, not to mention a significant portion of your lifespan—“

“Sensei,” Mikan says kindly. “I know it as well as I know Mr. Bear, or Jii-chan, or Natsume — I feel it in my bones — that it will be fine. Me and Hotaru, we will make it work.”

12:00

Natsume is allowed one last hug before Mikan disappears behind the double doors. “I love you,” he whispers gruffly.

“Love you,” Mikan says, remembering the way that his heart beats. “I’ll see you soon, so stop looking at me like that.”

“I always look at you like this,” Natsume says, but he’s averting his gaze. Subaru’s coming his way, and he’ll be damned if he actually cries in front of someone. Why couldn’t Imai be like her brother, he thinks not for the first time.

Subaru and Hotaru were successfully brought back from the time warp a few months ago, after nearly half a decade of studying and experimenting with the full efforts of the Academy, who made the Imais’ return a top priority. Subaru recuperated quickly, the only traces of the time warp now left in his head as memories, because he has the Healing Alice. As for his younger sister, well... once again she was on life support.

Natsume thinks of the way Mikan had looked the first time they visited Hotaru’s room. He coughs. Yuu pats him on the back.

“She said she was coming back,” Natsume reasons.

Yuu finds that watching his friend is too painful. He can only silently nod.

Inside the room, Mikan begins the procedure of removing her clothes. Subaru goes through the clipboard, marking errant notes awkwardly.

“You can speak, Dr. Imai,” Mikan laughs as she puts on the hospital gown.

“I just don’t understand you girls.”

“I don’t understand what you’re about to do to my body, but as long as Hotaru gains consciousness, consider it a job well done.”

Subaru shakes his head. “Anyhow, thank you for doing this.”

“Thank you,” Mikan says. “For helping me do this.”

18:00

Hotaru is alone, walking on a beautiful garden filled with flowers made of metallic petals. Penguin is here, next to her.

So I’m dead, she thinks bluntly. Then: why is death so boring?

She has been walking this same path, listening to the same electronic hum, for the past few months. At least she thinks it’s a few months. She didn’t know how to keep track of time when she first arrived, but then her instincts clicked into place after a certain amount of time and she built herself a clock.

It’s boring, she thinks again. Penguin heees. “What’s that, Penguin?”

“Hee! Hee!”

“Mikan? What about Mikan? She’s in danger?”

Penguin only hees again, urgently. It must be this place messing with its reception, Hotaru thinks frustratedly. Stupid place. Stupid Penguin. Stupid—

“Hotaru. HOTARU!” She hears, and looks up right as a dark mass drops onto her.

For one split second, Hotaru thinks she’s died again. And then she hears something: “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. Hotaru, it’s really you...”

Hotaru knows this voice. She hears it often in her head, in her memories that surface like gifts in her dreams. “Mikan?”

“Hotaru!”

“Mikan...!”

21:00

“This place is so weird,” Mikan says. She sniffles. The first hour she wouldn’t stop crying, and the past two hours she has gone over everything that’s happened in Hotaru’s absence. When it was Hotaru’s time to share she took Mikan for a stroll along the path.

“I know,” Hotaru says.

“It’s very you, though. Look at the robotic flowers. Look at these baby robot bees. Where even are we?”

“I don’t know,” Hotaru said. “I’m still amazed you even found me.”

“It’s the power of our love,” Mikan smiles. “Right, Penguin?” Penguin hees.

Hotaru feels a surge of emotion for her best friend and she combats it by taking out her Baka Gun, Heaven Edition. “Look what I made.”

Mikan shakes her head. “Of course you did. Oh my gosh, Hotaru, look!! There’s a turtle!!”

The two girls watch as it leisurely crosses the path ahead of them.

Hotaru takes this chance to say what’s been on her mind: “Mikan, what if we’re stuck here?”

Mikan doesn’t even miss a beat. “Then at least I’m stuck here with you.”

“Mikan...”

“Hotaru,” her best friend says. “I think the reason you haven’t come back Earthside yet is because.. you don’t want to. And that’s okay, as long as I get to he by your side. When you’re ready we can go back. But we have all the time in the world, so there’s no rush.” Mikan pauses. “Do you think we get to bring Penguin back?”

“No, you idiot,” Hotaru replies. “I think this is a place for wandering souls. Like in a time warp, but not in the sense of time. Like you said, there’s an element of indecision, I agree.”

Mikan peeks over at her best friend.

“What?” Hotaru feels compelled to ask.

“Don’t you think I’ve become, like, smarter? And more intelligent? Subaru said— OW! Hotaru!”

“The Baka Gun Heaven Edition thinks otherwise,” Hotaru says. “My sincere condolences.”

22:30

“Hey, what’s Ruka been up to these days?”

“Why’re we asking? OKAY okay, no need to pull out the cannon. He’s a vet. In France. He’s flying back this week to see us though. By us I mean me and YOU.”

“...”

“Why do you ask—Hotaru! Stop running! Wait up!”

23:15

“Do you think we’ll remember this when we wake up?” Mikan wonders. “It’s so beautiful. I want to remember this.”

“Probably as a dream if we do,” Hotaru says. “We’re actually really close to the real world. Hear that electronic hum? It’s hospital equipment, I think.”

Mikan’s mouth makes an O. “Hotaru, you’re so smart!”

“Damn straight.”

23:45

“It surprises me that Hyuuga hasn’t asked to marry you,” Hotaru remarks. She and Mikan are laying down now, watching the periwinkle sky ripple with color.

Mikan hums. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t say yes.”

Hotaru turns her head to look at her best friend. “What if I never woke up? You never were going to get married?”

“Yep,” Mikan says cheerfully. “It’s okay, Natsume understands.”

“You’re crazy,” Hotaru states simply.

“You’re my most important person! And don’t lie to yourself, Hotaru. You would do the same!” Mikan exclaims.

“No,” Hotaru argues. “I would find a way to wake you up way sooner because I’m a genius.”

Mikan sticks her tongue out and shuffles closer to Hotaru, draping her arms around her best friend. “Was it lonely?”

“No,” Hotaru thinks. “Just boring. I might’ve been lonely if you hadn’t found me sooner, though.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that when I come home, I want to be brought home on an elephant. The time warp once dropped me and Onii-chan in India once, and that’s how they carried royalty.”

“That actually sounds really nice.” Mikan muses.

Penguin hees softly. Mikan snuggles in. Hotaru smiles. She’s content, in this moment.

She’s ready.

“You’re ready?”

Hotaru squeezes her best friend’s hand. “Yeah, let’s go back.”

00:00

“Natsume,” Mochiage urges. “You need to stand up straight. Natsume.”

The entire class of 2B is congregated in the hospital’s waiting wings. Natsume’s face is gray. Mikan’s been under operation for 12 hours now, during which Natsume has refused to eat or drink or move from his spot.

Ruka shakes his head. “Leave him be. It’s been a long day.” Mochu sighs, throwing his hands up.

In another corner, Sumire is pacing, biting her nails. Koko pulls her hand from her mouth, encircling it within his own hands.

“I’m not nervous, because there’s nothing to be nervous about,” Sumire declares sharply, looking at her husband.

Koko only smiles. “I know, Mire. I know.”

“They’ll come back. Where’s Anna and Nonoko? Anna! Nonoko!” Sumire pulls her hand from Koko’s grasp and marches purposefully across the room. “I swear I told them to...”

Koko sighs. He doesn’t need to be a mindreader right now to know what everyone’s thinking. He wishes he had an Alice limiting bracelet, because at a hospital especialy, everyone’s thoughts are so damn loud. His hearing is amplified to an exponential amount.

Hey, Hotaru, Koko suddenly hears.

What? Koko thinks, alert. That was definitely Mikan’s dumb voice.

What, you idiot.

This voice is so familiar and heartbreaking to Koko that he falls to his knees. He’s spent the past few years trying to remember and memorize this voice, as proof that she had existed. Hotaru Imai had existed, because she had a voice in his mind.

“Koko?” Yuu rushes over. “Koko, what’s wrong?”

Natsume knows. Natsume knows, and his head whips up and focuses on Koko with a burning intensity.

Do you remember? Mikan now, her voice clear, a little weak.

Yeah. Hotaru responds, quiet. Yeah.

So it wasn’t a dream. Then, I’m glad.

Koko nods at Natsume, who is up on his feet in less than one second just as Dr. Imai appears through the doors. He’s sweaty, exhausted. His bangs are sticking to his head. Natsume thinks he’s never seen anything more angelic when he speaks.

“The operation was a success.”

Subaru finally cracks a smile.

“You can go see Hotaru and Sakura now.”

｡o° ✧༺ ✿ ༻∞ ❀ ∞༺ ✿ ༻✧ °o｡

It’s been a week since the two girls’ release, and every single day Mikan has fallen asleep next to her best friend. Natsume, grumbling, has been relocated to Ruka’s place in Tokyo. Today, though, Hotaru is moving out. Mikan sits as Hotaru goes through her suitcase one last time.

“Do you have to move out,” Mikan says, for the umpteenth time.

“Hyuuga—“

“Don’t lie and make this about Natsume.” Mikan is petulant. “We spent so many years apart, the least we could do is—“

“No,” Hotaru breaks in. “You are a slob, you never clean up after yourself, there are crumbs in the bed. Plus, you drool, and you move around in your sleep. And you sleeptalk. Only Hyuuga deserves to put up with this. Not someone like me.”

Mikan pouts. “Where are you going to stay?” Upon seeing Hotaru’s face, horror dawns upon her. “Hotaru, no.”

“Nogi was kind enough to offer, who am I to refuse his hospitality?”

“Is Ruka not going back to France?” Mikan is shocked. “He’s just leaving his entire house to you?”

Hotaru looks into her luggage. “Well, it appears that he’s staying in Japan for the time being. To open a Japanese branch for his clinic.”

Mikan is scandalized. “So you’re willing to be roommates with him, but not with me? Hotaru!”

“He’s not going to bother or distract me. I have a multi billion dollar corporation to launch. I have all these years to catch up on. Stop pouting, you look ugly.”

“Hmph!” Mikan snorts. She takes a different angle. “At least let me visit.”

“Twice a month.”

“Hotaru! Twice a day.”

“Twice a week.”

“Seven times a week.”

“Seven times a week for half an hour each.”

“One hour. I’ll be quiet. I can be quiet, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Hotaru smirks. “Fine. You have yourself a deal.” She closes the suitcase and secures the clasp, pulling it as she drags it out of the room. Mikan follows, a little woefully.

“How are you getting there, at least?”

“Oh,” Hotaru smiles. “I called in a few favors.”

Outside the house, a familiar blonde Frenchman sits atop a big, grey elephant. The two of them are happy, playing around, unawares of the gaping brunette and the pair of unimpressed violet eyes.

“It’s just as sickening as I remember,” Hotaru mutters.

“You’re insane, Hotaru!” Mikan whispers.

When Ruka notices them, he blushes. “Hi, Mikan! Hi, Imai! Are you ready to go?”

“You heard the man.” Hotaru turns to her best friend. “Wanna ride with me?”

“HOTARU! I love you!” Mikan leaps and crashes into her best friend. “You know the answer’s forever yes.”

Yes, it was forever Mikan and Hotaru, and Hotaru and Mikan. They had found ways to be together no matter how big the obstacles that faced them were. The future was going to be no different — there was undoubtedly going to be a great amount of uncertainties, but Hotaru and Mikan would find a way to be together through it all. Because it was Mikan and Hotaru and Hotaru and Mikan. They belonged to each other.

—

For @crimsoncitrus who requested a Hotaru and Mikan fic! This got so much longer than anticipated, sorry (*´ω｀*) hope you enjoy!!

[makoto-naegi555]

the bloody bloody despair arc: chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31737307/chapters/80467357 https://drive.google.com/file/d/19dSWapOdGFDia_kftPmpLbdeUL94HJH5/view?usp=sharing

Gp: it is time…. ok so let’s start

0:13

Don’t do it! You aren’t entitled to tell her anything and she isn’t entitled to know just go on with your day!

0:28

Hook line and sinker

0:45

Good news Mitarai you got jabaited.

Face palm

Oh the hubris of man.

1:33

Mukuro no!

But I mean she is mentally sound ….was mentally sound you know its like you know shes like a dads old car just kept together by so much duct tape so much….

But I mean compared to Junko shes a perfectly healthy individual.

Soulbound: they all need therapy.

2:20

Gp: YOU WHAT YOU LIAR YOU HACK YOU FROAD I LET YOU IN MY HEART AND YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THAT

Soulbound: your passionate

Gp: ITS BRAINWASHING HES A SCAM

Soulbound: I do agree brainwashing is unethical and the fact he did it is not cool.

Gp: if you need brainwashing to make your animation good your animations not good YOU DIRTY LIAR Pixar, Ghibli, James Baxter! There animations are to cry for, and they don’t brainwash people!

Soulbound: at least I hope they don’t.

Gp: so you! You you you! Forcing people to like your anime! Of all the unethicality’s! you iddddiiooooootttt oh well let me give you your just deserts if you think brainwashing people isn’t anything to worry about how about you get a taste of your own medicine ay!? Ay?!

Soulbound: oh no

2:27

Gp: YOU’VE DOOMED US ALL!!!

2:33

But Then Junko got an idea. An awful idea. Junko enoshima had a wonderful, awful idea.

Soulbound: You're a mean one, miss Junko You really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus You're as charming as an eel Miss Junko, you're a bad banana with the greasy black peel.

Gp dancing in the background

Gp: but in all serious MITARAI YOU IDIOT YOU DOOMED US ALL

2:34

NOOOOO MUKUROOO! STOP IT RJ NOT NICE NOT NICE NOT NICE!

Soulbound: mukuro dosent get paid enough for this… -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mukuro: I don’t get paid at all. -----------------------------------------------------------------------

2:45

Gp: THAT IS A LOAD OF TORUS POO if you believe that mitari I will lose all faith in you!

Soulbound: you had faith in him?

Gp: well not anymore with the path he takes

2:50

Oh theme song! Man so short I didn’t know we could talk too much.

4:30

IT’S A REAL-LIFE BEAR IN DANGARONPA so that’s what they look like nice.

5:33

OH MY GOD BAGEL BOOTY

6:33

My word

7:07

And that’s how mikan died.

Soulbound: she didn’t die?

Gp: she died on the inside but we all know shes doomed poor baby

7:15

And now its these guys again

8:11

Poly

8:54

Oh dear rj you killed him didn’t you?

9:05

My word

And once again Junko had a wonderfully awful idea.

Soulbound: You're a monster, Miss Junko, your heart's an empty hole Your brain is full of spiders, you've got garlic in your soul, Miss Junko. I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole!

Gp dancing

9:36

Gp: it’s kinda annoying how fake she is though, if your gonna be evil rj at least be upfront about it! your faker then a capitalist companies carrying policy!

Soulbound confused about the mushrooms.

9:48

Soulbound: there real!? I thought they were a metaphor!

Gp: a metaphor for what?

Soulbound: SADNESS of course!

9:55

Gp: DOOOOMMEEDD DOOOMMEEDD

10:11

Soulbound: WHAT THE HECK IS THAT!!!

Gp: ou yeah she does that sometimes

Soulbound: SHE LOOKS LIKE LIKE- I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE BUTS IT LOOKS WRONG

Gp: oh chill buddy shes just using her super smart brain skills no Biggy

Soulbound: THAT’S WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!?

Gp: yeah why did you think it was an automatic process or something?

Soulbound: YES

Gp: well you thought wrong its like a switch on off on off do doot do

Then gp slaps both sides of his face to wiggle his eyes as if they were playing ping pong

Its weird but cool like shes on drugs which is fair I think her mom owned a drug cartel.

10:25

No mukuro you’re fine!

10:50

That…. That was something but now its time for the moment we’ve all been waiting for

11:08

I FORBID IT YOUNG LADY!

Soulbound: she can’t hear you.

Angry gp noises

11:58

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH its gonna happen I need to prepare myself.

12:07

Good news! you are all going to heaven Bad news! RIGHT NOW!

13:44

Soulbound: why don’t they just use the weapons to kill her?

Gp: well you see, there’s a little thing called fear, stress and pressure it makes you stupid and not see any other way besides the ones told to you happens all the time in horror movies …..

14:14 (just play the scene and hear the song)

[GP] Well…  pulls out guitar. here’s the first killing I have a good song for this...

Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #1 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #2 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #3 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Group #4 Will I lose my dignity Will someone care Will I wake tomorrow From this nightmare?

Gp: oh the depravity…

But you know I don’t think I’d call that despair either like whoop de do you threatened people and put them in a room of stress blackmailing them causing them to panic and kill eachother who would have ever guessed that would happen literally everyone like it’s a scientific provation so what do you get from it? unless you were secretly hoping they were better than that and that they would just shoot you in the head then and there hahahah…. Maybe

19:33

AND NOW WE’RE ALL DOOMED

20:01

Oh yeah the other guys reaction to it well let’s just say the committee didn’t want people to catch wind of this but why tell you when I can show you.

Soulbound: did we ever get their names.

Gp: … no actually I think not …. ok ok let’s go in order left to right

Ok first guy archie gator then haru gilla old dude with the hair is Jio Futoago and last guy is Callisto de viper.

Got it? Good!

[GP] And now, an explanation of the Corrupt Bargain, which took place in the back halls of hopes peak while no one was watching.

[HUSK] Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Archie gator says:

[GATOR] We need to find a scheme to Keep the power in the Hands of the chosen few.

[HUSK] Jio Futoago says:

[FUTOAGO] If my dad was in the council I should get to be in it too!

[HUSK] Haru gila says:

[GILA] I’ll make you councilmen. If you keep me as Secretary of State

[HUSK] Callisto de viper says something in Italian That none of us can translate Whoo!

Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do

All you educated people You can talk of liberty But do you really want The Japanese people To learn of this tragedy? Ooh!

Do do do doot (repeated)

Jio Futoago says:

[FUTOAGO] If we cover it all up Then the mastermind will surely cave!

[HUSK] Archie gator says:

[GATOR] You can do what you want If you don’t try to take away my slaves

[HUSK] Haru gila says:

[GILA] You’ll keep the reserve course ‘cause I know How to play realpolitik

[HUSK] Jin kirigiri said something prescient about this But he not important Let’s dance!

[ALL] Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do Do, do, do, do, do, do, do

[HUSK] You can compromise all you want They’re still drunk and smell like pee! But Do you really want the mastermind To cause the tragedy?

Jio Futoago:

[FUTOAGO] The people are stupid!

[HUSK] Haru gila:

[GILA] They can all go rot!

[HUSK] Archie gator:

[GATOR] They’re lame!

[HUSK] Futoago:

[FUTOAGO] They suck!

[HUSK] Haru gila:

[GILA] The mastermind’s a total twat!

[HUSK] Archie gator:

[GATOR] These guys are idiots but It’s the mastermind who’s a real threat.

[HUSK] I’m sure sora enix would have an opinion But he hasn’t been born yet

Junko is a loser!

[DEPRAVITY] Junko is a loser! Junko is a loser! Junko is a loser!

They all laugh maniacally as they celebrate what they think is their victory.

[JIN] DON’T I GET A SAY IN THIS?!

Gator and Gila sigh, perhaps not caring an ounce on what jin has to say.

Gp: but Junko was in fact not a loser

because this was all part of her plan with them covering it up it gave her free rain to leak it out but with a certain extra… brain washing flair tainting all their souls with darkness becoming slaves to the great hivemind But I think the best way to explain this is… IN SONG!

22:00

[GP] Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our spell

Blindsided by the beat Clapping your hands, Stomping your feet You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh-oh-oh Now you've fallen under our spell Oh-whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh

We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky

Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our spell

Listen to the sound of my voice Oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh Soon you'll find you don't have a choice Oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh Captured in the web of my song Oh-oh, whoa-oh-oh Soon you'll all be singing along Oh-whoa-oh

We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky We've got the music, Makes you move it Got the song that makes you lose it We say "jump", you say "how high?" Put your hands up to the sky

Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our spell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh You didn't know that you fell Oh-whoa-oh, oh-whoa-oh Now that you're under our Spell... hahahaha MAAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHA!

23:13 Like lambs to the slaughter  and if it all goes the way the creator wants then literally!  Well that’s all for now tune in next time for when things go wronger!