#pre-illness weight before she got sick

[jakemyboy]

Blu had fun over at Brandy's house yesterday. Took a lot of videos, sometimes they'd just stand there, and as soon as I'd turn it off they would do stuff again, of course!

[darling-answers]

I BEG YOU Ana Amari with a injured reader, maybe she sick or dying of a illness idk just make it angst, I saw that talk about wanting more Ana Amari fanfic so idk I feel like letting people suffer and cry.

“ oh Gibraltar were had the time gone?”

This will be pre-fall I would like to say when Overwatch was still in best working order, just right after the omnic crisis

Warning! There may be inaccurate deceive of AML, I have done my best at researching the topic but doesn’t me my accuracy on knowing aml is good because I have never experienced before. Ana may be a little off topic because no matter what, you should always respect the choice of someone body. Death! Is implied and mention. this isn’t a happy ending. Blood! Is mentioned, noise and mouth bleeding Mentions, Oppression and violence. There also mention of symptoms of cancer effects with chemotherapy, chemotherapy is mentioned multiple times. Fainting is mentioned

Thank you for all who reads my stories and showed there support i appreciate it greatly

REQUEST ARE OPEN I WRITE FOR VENTURE TOO SO SEND THEM SOME LOVE.

The warning signs were there but you couldn’t expect it to get this bad? how could anyone know how bad it gotten when it just happened. Being a overwatch agent and putting civilians as your top priority before your own health problems wasn’t uncommon. It comes with you being a soldier and wanting to do what right. Sticking up for the weak even if it comes with your own life. So why must this situation be different.

The First warning sign happen when you were out on a mission to help civilians who may have been lost or trapped under the rubble, it was going according to plan, nothing seem out of the ordinary until the next thing you had known was blood was coming from your nostrils and mouth. Wiping it off on your sleeve painting it with fresh blood made it easy to forget about, it could happen to anyone so why must your situation be different, there still civilians need help, so pick yourself up soldier and help the others, You tell yourself over and over again.

Helping civilians get to safety and back to there family had made you smile, but the comfort of the ship that would be leading you back to your home and the people you call family is just a different feeling. When sitting down in your designated seat, Reinhardt was right infront of you, talking (yelling.) about how well his mission did, talking about the tiny children who he got to flex his arms to. Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes carried on their conversation about the on going crisis in the rest of the world, torbjorn talked about his family showing Reinhardt picture of his newly born daughter Brigitte but always the mother hen Ana had taken notice of the blood.

“ habibati, where did such blood come from? Had there been anyone seriously injured? On the catalog I did not seen any reports of very serious injuries?” She mumbles setting her sniper down, the way the sniper aim was up relaxing in the wall of the aircraft, safety was on and the eye of the pistol was up. She leans over to grab the coat of your overwatch outfit and taken a look of the sleeve.

“ I’m fine Ana, I promise, there is nothing to worry about just some blood no need to fuss.” She gave you a serious look Almost crinkling her brows. “ you tell me if anything is wrong. Alright? I want you to be alright.” She looks serious pointing a finger before she lets go from the topic when she felt satisfied.

The Second warning came when in training with Cassidy, you felt you’re whole body zap out of energy, the room was so dizzy and fussy, your brain felt slow and sluggish, you’re arms and legs felt like a ice about to melt into a puddle. Your body gave up and slammed itself to the ground. Waking up in the infirmary with Angela Ziegler talking about your body and health, noticing the way your body seems to be weaker than before. You lost incredible amount of weight which for a normal person would feel happy about it, the weight your body was dropping was to dangerous to not start trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

“ i thought you would’ve told me if something was wrong. The fact you tried hiding it makes me think it might be time i took over your position and put you’re mission on hold until i feel everything is better.” Ana mumbled kissing your forehead as she gently placed her hand on the top of your head.

Angela returned with a chart, writing your vitals and simple questions she have asked you such as, how long have these symptoms been going on, how severe have these conditions been. She clicked her pin shut as she looked up from her notes. “ if you don’t mind I would like to request and recommend we run a few test on you. I’m thinking running a Blood test on you, we will be analyzing it using a microscopic evaluation of the blood, or by using flow cytometry to try and figure. This will all be done if we get your consent so would you mind if we do this?” Angela tilt her head at the last part as she hears the exact words she needs to hear to start preparing for the blood samples.

After gathering the blood sample, she sends you and Ana on your way as she tells you the test results will need 2-3 weeks to be able to fully confirm the diagnosis. Ana made sure throughout the week to make sure that you would rest and not strain your already fragile condition. Every night Ana would lay in bed making sure her arms were around your body and start whispering stuff in Arabic. More symptoms started popping up which caused Ana to get worried even worse than before. Bruising would form out of nowhere not even you could remember how you got those bruises, night sweats became one of the worse causing the lack of sleep, hot flashes and the urge to not eat anything were evidence that something definitely wasn’t right.

“ Oh, how I know it hurts habibati, let’s try and get some rest.” She would mumbles as she made sure the bed only have loose sheets. The way you could barely hold down anything or even get out of bed made her concerns grow even worse. Sometimes you would wake up with her right besides you and other times you were alone in bed. Days and nights started to blur in your memory as you laid in bed, not being able to fully move or walk without assistance.

“ we have gotten the test results back and it might be best. If you sit down ana this is difficult for both of you.” Angela pulled up a chair and sat down in a chair crossing her legs as she looks over at Ana then comes back to you. “ after throughly examining the changes in you’re body we have confirm the diagnosis of you have a form of leukemia that is very hard to treat. It is called Acute myelogenous leukemia. It a common aggressive form of leukemia that affects your bone marrow and blood.”

The face of exhaustion from you and the horror of Ana Face was like no other, how long had it been since you see Ana so hopeless..? This isn’t what you wanted to see.

“ There is good news and bad news, we may be able to start treatment to help fight off the leukemia but with the illness being around the bone marrow most medicines may not be able to reach the place the leukemia is resting, it may be long and hard but you have some chance of survival if you would like to start that I can get it prepared.”

“ What are the chances of me surviving..? I don’t want to live my life in fear that this illness will come back, I don’t want the exhaustion and agonizing treatments, I don’t want to be stuck in a hospital wasting away the only time I get pure entertainment is if someone come visit me. Please Ana, i’m scared and I don’t want to leave you alone but I don’t want to deal with this heartache.” She clutched her wife hand as she leans over weakly giving a kiss to her wife forehead as she comes to rest her sweaty face on that of her wife.

“ I have seen a lot of people survive AML and I also scene some who not, a man in December survive the AML with a few rounds of chemo and some rehabilitation and now he living his life with a wife and few kids. I’ve also scene some people not wish to fight this agonizing battle. So why I might not suggest not taking treatments I will accept whatever you would like us to do.”

Angela Zeigler nodded her head towards you before looking at Ana, Ana somberly looked at the hands which were neatly folded in her. The struggle to make the choice or even express agreement or disagreement weigh ever on her shoulders. “ if you would not like to start chemo and pass away in your home with me and our family by your side I will respect your wishes. I’m so sorry you were even given these choices.” Ana closed her eyes and cried in her hands chocking out her answers as she leans to rest her head on your shoulder.

“ don’t cry Ana, this battle has been long and hard, I was given a purpose on earth and that was to protect the people around me, I made my choice and now I may be rest in the peace of the afterlife knowing I have saved lives. You have to be strong for Pharah and Overwatch.”

The weakly smiles that adores both you and Ana face made it way to accept the idea more easily. The decision to not go and do chemo was not selfish in the eyes of Ana, she knew of the effects of chemo, Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, Hair loss, Skin dryness and rashes the effects almost seem limitless.

“ so if I’m to confirm You ( state your name.) are refusing to take chemotherapy, which may have help you live a few years longer. You understand the negative side effects that may come with this. You may also always come back to wanting to do chemotherapy but the more you wait the more will not be likely to have the cancer be eradicated.”

Ana looked over and nodded at you, “ I will accept whatever you say or think. Please speak what you need to.” Ana looked into your eyes. “ I accept to refusing treatment for chemotherapy and know the harms and risk that may come and the outcome.” The weakly sound of coughing finishing off the statement.

“ alright, I will notify strike commander to take you off of all mission briefs and when you are ready please notify whoever you would like about what the future is going forward.” Mercy nodded politely leaving you and Ana alone in the room. Ana looked over at you, brushing your cheekbone as the weak sound of raspy breath came in and out. “ Thank you for letting me have a choice, I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t sure the outcome would be the same.”

Ana nodded to your words helping you settle in bed. She weakly clutches the clothing near her heart as she looks at you. She tried to take a deep breath as to not let the tears follow but it getting harder looking at your weak state. She started walking towards the door to give you room only to be stopped by the croak of a voice. “ Ana…” Ana turned around and looked at you walking over and kneeling down near your bed side.

“ I love you and Pharah so much.” You mumbles as Ana whisper some words of praise before getting up and leaving the room. Days become even more of a blur as your visited by most of Overwatch agents besides a few. Even Moira O’Deorain made her presence known as she commands great respect and recognition for how you saved lives and great combat skills.

The day came, one year and a day after you first got the symptoms of something wrong that you passed peacefully by your besides, laying beside you was Ana who was on your left. Pharah who birthday just came a few weeks ago making her 10 and one of your best friends who also supported you think through thin, Reinhardt. A day that would’ve been sad wasn’t sad, they knew you would of beat there ass if you found out they weren’t lighting up the party with some shots as you’re lowered into your casket. Your funeral which played one of your favorite songs, “Dreaming of you” by Selena Quintanilla was a mother and daughter dance for ana and pharah.

You were given a gravesite with the soldiers who had fallen in the war adored with flowers and so much love and care from military units all across the world. Some left Quarters, some left penny, dimes and nickels. You were known around the world and a statue as a memorial in your home town was placed to honor the dedication you had to fighting for what right and standing up for communities who may have been oppressed.

As time gone on and the state of Overwatch went into shambles Winston recalled woke up a different side in Overwatch agents, instead of doing stuff how Jack Morrison would do, the Overwatch hero’s knew who to look up to in the end.

Pharah looking up into the sky hoping that maybe she would see you there looking down and protecting her.

[tadpolesonalgae]

omg i was bored and started re-reading CBMTHY from the start and i just realized - now knowing that reader was ill? or expecting to die from sickness before the Cauldron thing happened - Azriel's comment of "you are proving to be a burden" and why that was such a fatal blow to reader is getting a new meaning akdjskakajsj

ur whole family is suffering in poverty with ur youngest sister going to the woods every day risking her life to keep ur family afloat, and ur sick and possibly dying (idek if it was mentioned whether or not the rest of the Archerons knew?? i wouldn't put it past reader to just not tell them bc of her insecurities, not to mention the whole complicated psychology that must happen with the fact that Mama Archeron also died from illness and the trauma everyone has from that 😬😬) and u get randomly turned into fae and seemingly cured of that illness.... like the amount of guilt that reader must have had about the whole situation.. she already felt like she owed smth to Feyre and the rest bc she's in the belief that she would've died if she stayed human (both from hunger and her illness) and then Azriel goes ahead and tells her she's a burden like 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 Az what the FUCK no wonder girlie is depressed 😭😭 (im not like Really really livid at him bc ik that he obviously didn't know her backstory but .. bro's gotta GROVEL)

anyways im living for this added weight of the angst and hurt ✨️

(I might have gone on some tangents here, and I’m not entirely sure I articulated it correctly, so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make total sense!! 🧡💛)

Okay, so, this is something I think I struggle with frequently—being unsure how much people in the acotar universe know about medicine?

I’ve kind of got it into my head that fae magic is just a general healing thing? So it wouldn’t require the same level of knowledge and study as a modern day doctor would have to go through since I don’t think we really get to see how healing magic works? The only comparison I can think of is what we see in Tower of Dawn, but even that wasn’t particularly clear?

Anyway, in a story like cbmthy where reader obviously has some mental instabilities, it’s quite difficult knowing how to describe it since I’m unsure they have the understanding of modern day medicine/psychology? And then there are the physical symptoms that her magic has been causing her, and I’m operating under the assumption that they won’t understand what’s happening to reader or how to cure it given the type of ‘sick’(?) she is from her power? I also don’t want to give anything away, but in short I’m hoping to touch more on what kind of ‘illness’(?) reader was dealing with pre-cauldron?

‘Az what the FUCK no wonder girlie is depressed’

I’m glad that this side is clear at least 😭 I was kind of worried, since I don’t think I’ve explicitly said she’s clinically depressed, that it might not be apparent? Again, I don’t think they have a term for depression in the acotar universe? Like I can’t see it being a name for a mental illness? I can see it being used as a descriptor, and people being able to understand the concept quite clearly, but I don’t imagine there being defining qualities yet if that makes sense? 😬😭

‘anyways im living for this added weight of the angst and hurt ✨️’

Well, while chapter 16 is mostly happy, there is a little interaction with Mor at the end that might be a bit intense if you enjoy general angst/hurt things? It’s only brief but I felt it would be too strange to have a genuinely okay chapter, even if reader just experienced one of the lowest moments of her life 😁🧡💛

[peach-the-owl]

I don't know when you'll see this but could i get something for Marion and a sick Child reader for Npc month?

I'm currently sick and Marion is one of my favourite NPC's so i just had to.

I love Marion, she’s such a sweet and loving mother 😁 And I hope you’re feeling a lot better!

[Side note: I had a plan, started writing for said plan then diverged from the plan and this was the result]

Under the Weather

Marion Lavorre & Child!Reader

(Also some Jester & Twin Sibling!Reader thrown in too)

Set pre-campaign

You groan as light enters the room, throwing the covers over your head to stop the brightness from bothering you further. This, sadly, doesn’t deter your sister from bounding over to your bed and jumping onto your sheets and, by extension, you.

“Come on sleepy head! Wake up!” She shakes your shoulders, you cringe at the volume of her voice and turn away. See, while you and Jester may be twins, you were far from identical, she had blue skin and violet eyes, most likely from your father, while you had red skin and amber eyes like your mother. She was full of energy and ready to tackle the day, you felt like you were going to cough up a lung.

“Hello my little sapphire and garnet, breakfast is ready and waiting for you.” You hear your mother’s much softer and calmer voice enter.

“(Y/n) won’t get up.” You hear Jester pout, not long after that you feel the bed dip and your mother speaks again.

“Why don’t you get a head start and we’ll join you when we can.” You cover your ears at the loud squee Jester makes before she’s off of you and bounding down the hall. “(Y/n)?” Your mothers voice is so much more calming to listen to, making you partially peek out from your covers before the urge you’ve been holding back to cough and gag takes over and you’re curling in on yourself, even tearing up a bit at the awful feeling. “Oh, my dear. Again?” This wasn’t the first time you’ve fallen ill like this, and based on your track record it won’t be the last time either, something you were slightly jealous of Jester for was that she seemed to rarely get sick, if ever, while you got sick a least twice a month.

“Can you close the curtains, please. The light hurts.” You mumble under your blankets, the weight on your bed disappears for a moment, reappearing soon after with the room significantly darker then before. “Thanks.” You sigh, finally remove the covers over your eyes and relax a little.

“Of course my little garnet. I’ll go fetch one of the staff to deliver your special breakfast while you rest.” She says, giving you a gentle smile.

“Yeah… okay…” You trail off in a dejected manner. Marion’s smile falters slightly, hating how resigned you’ve become to your situation while she was helpless to do anything that could actually help cure it. It wasn’t like you were cursed but either way she couldn’t exactly bring you to a cleric seeing as you and Jester were kept secret from those outside the Chateau, leaving Marion feeling stuck.

“I’ll come check on you again in half an hour, okay?” She tries to sound reassuring, you look at the soft smile she has knowing full well she’s trying to stay strong for you, you offer one back as best you can before having to turn away so you don’t cough on her.

As promised Marion came back to check in on you as well as a few of the staff helping to keep you comfortable and cleaning up any mess that may have been made. When she inevitably needs to step away she’ll have Bluud check in periodically, sometimes bringing some medication to help with the fever and headaches. It was nice to know everyone was trying to help you feel better but you still felt awful for having to take out time in their day because you weren’t well enough to do anything yourself. Evening was approaching, not that it mattered to you since you’ve been in one place all day and the few times you did get out of bed weren’t for very long. You lay in bed, staring up at the canopy above you deep in thought, not bothering to look over when you catch your mother enter the room at the corner of your eye.

“Mama?” You start, still not looking over but you know you’ve caught her attention. “Am I a burden to you?” Already you can feel tears welling up.

“Are you a- no. No, you could never.” She sits down beside you and starts to gently comb a hand through your hair. “Why would you think that of yourself?” You manage to push yourself into a sitting position, Marion’s quick to help stabilize you letting you lean against her as she continues to comb trough your hair.

“I’m always sick and need help from everyone, but even if I’m better I still can’t do much like Jester can. I don’t know, I just feel like it’d be easier if you didn’t have to take care of me all the time.” You admit tearfully, your voice coming out weakly while you try holding back the rising urge to dry-heave.

“Oh my darling,” your mothers grip tightens around you, but in a comforting way, as she holds you closer. “You are no burden to any of us. I like that you let me take care of you, it lets me know you always feel safe with me and it just makes the times you’re better all the more worth cherishing. You know I love you, my little garnet.” She places a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you too, mama.” You reply feeling a little better, both physically and mentally. “Ummm…” You pause a second, hesitant to ask your question. “I know you have a show soon but… can-can you sing a song for me?” You look up at her curiously, she smiles warmly at you.

“But of course.” She starts singing a soft lullaby for you, letting you lay back down and relax as her voice fills the room.

Bonus:

“(Y/n). *psst* (Y/n), you still awake?” You hear Jester ask, you peek an eye over at your sister confused seeing her look intently at you.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You mumble shifting over, Jester helps you into a sitting position before crawling onto your bed to sit next to you.

“Here, I want you to have this.” She beams handing you a folded piece of paper. You already knew it was another of Jester’s get well soon cards since she always made them for you but there was something a little different about this one. When you open the card it had the usual ‘Get Well Soon’ written on it but normally the picture was of you and her smiling and doing some sort of activity indoors, this time it was a picture of you and her outside with a third figure.

“Did you sneak out again?” You question, a small laugh coming from you when Jester shrugs with a mischievous smile.

“But look, look.” She points to the picture again. “See, it’s you, me and the Traveler all playing outside together.”

“Jester you know we shouldn’t leave, or at least I can’t anyways. I wouldn’t make it 3 steps before collapsing.” You sigh turning into a harsh cough, Jester grips your hand in hers and the beaming smile was now a look of determination.

“Then I promise you one day I’m going to become super strong and find a way to help you and we can go on adventures together when we’re older.” She vows.

“Really? You think that can actually happen?” You ask, a small glimmer of hope sparking in you when she nods.

“I swear on the Traveler’s name I will find a way to help you!” She cheers, you cover your ears at the noise.

“Okay, but not so loud please.”

“Oops, sorry.”

[lowlyroach]

1144) where they bury the stars

think of the future

filled with dread

don't think i want to hit twenty seven

if i miss your next birthday, im sorry

my soft skin was made

for blood to seep unrestrained

through every pore like a

chia pet or a doll with playdough hair

can i level with mom and dad

i think ill die before you will

if i went to dinner with you both

i would have to lie so much its frightening

i dont want to tell you the truth

if i just had got that gun

id have done it a hundredfold

dont think im made long for this world

doing nothing but doing nothing

get sick of doing nothing so go to sleep

hoping itll reset and click back into place

wondering how to make the pieces fit

this brain that's all smushed together like

a clay sculpture got it wrong and started

mashing everything never to throw it

in the kiln

is there anything else to look forward to?

can one really drink so much poison

they become physically dependent on drinking poison?

what is wrong with these stupid apes

who invented rocks on sticks and then

metal on sticks

and then metal on metal and

government

i think i feel my stomach lining screaming

stare at the price, which one is best

just make a decision, then make a mess

someone else will clean it up

you really dont want to have a chance

is there anything to look forward to?

that child at Makotos staring at the fire

amazed when they cooked in front of him

eating his chicken tenders like an idiot

the kind lady who wished me a good night

i cried reading my book at the table

the only one there alone

the guy behind me kept looking in my direction

headphones wrapped around my neck

book held in front of me

someone in the book died, spoiler alert

im going to die too, spoiler alert

so will you, sorry to spoil the ending

but is there anything else to look forward to?

the easiest way to make me cry is to show me

someone doing their best against the odds

that's how they died

didnt speak a word at the table but my thank you's

is there anything to look forward to?

should i move somewhere across the country

somewhere across the world?

i could lose myself for months hiking the appalachian

is there anything to look forward to?

my friends message me but i continue

sitting and doing nothing

i can feel my spine collapsing under

its own weight

while i stand in the kitchen cooking

i almost fall to the ground as my

shoulders fall inwards and my

neck fails to stand straight

is there anything to look forward to?

someone hand me a mote of hope

this lantern has been out of oil

im hanging onto a rope but i think

the end of it isn't a strong knot made for

holding things together

its a noose

made for weak necks like mine

that can't find the way to point north

i think my parents are going to

bury their son

at a closed casket funeral

missing half of his head

is there anything to look forward to?

the stars-

there were stars once

there were stars they were real

i held them in the backseat of my car

on walks and in restaurants

they lived in my heart and eyes

but why didnt they follow me home

after she left

why did they go back into the sky

did they follow her instead?

or was there so much nuclear fission in that backseat

we made the stars truly shine?

formed them of a chess board and

cards that were rummy pre-rum

where do all the stars go when they die?

is there anything left to look forward to?

can i find something else to look forward to?

i want to believe i was nuclear fission, once

even if i was never strong enough

bury your son at the graveyard

where they bury the stars

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

[couchpotatoaniki]

Our Fruitless Tree

As children, the three of you were inseparable. To show this, you planted a mulberry tree together--a symbol of your love and ever-lasting friendship that would withstand the test of time. But would it really?

Pairing: Servant!Hongjoong x Royal!Reader x Nobleman!Seonghwa Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, Love triangle, heavy angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers (?), Fantasy AU, Warnings: swearing, mentions of conception, blood, death (unknown terminal illness; tree), unrequited love, extremely poor story-telling, magic torture,  Word Count: 5.8k+

@atozfic​ IT MAY BE SHIT, BUT THIS ONE’S FOR YOU /g

A/N: the bridal bouquet in this is inspired by Princess Diana’s. I dunno, I just really liked it.

“Y/N! Come look over here!” Seonghwa yelled at you, hand waving in the air to beckon you over where Hongjoong and he stood. Even as children, the two were taller than you, as if their bodies had not cared you were of a higher status.

You were the only child of the Kingdom’s royal family, meaning that you had little in the way of friends. Especially when the future crown stuck to you, intimidating any future playmates. Luckily Seonghwa was the son of a family friend--a nobleman with immense power, who’s faithful lineage dated back to the creation of the kingdom.

Hongjoong was similar, the only difference being that he came from that of a servant family than of one of power, a debt made by his ancestors that had sold his life to serve the royal family. But being your servant had taught him from a young age that, unlike what everyone had tried to make you believe, you were pretty much a normal human with feelings, the weight of an entire empire on your shoulders from the day you were born.

“Coming!” you yelled back, hurriedly making your way towards your only two friends, the younger holding something behind his back while the older was practically bouncing with excitement. “What are you hiding from me?”

Grinning, Seonghwa’s hands pulled into sight, unfurling to show off the sapling in his hand. “It’s a mulberry tree! You love mulberries, don’t you?”

You believe that was the first time your heart skipped a beat--at the young age of 11--but you wouldn’t realise until a quite few years later, when life was much different, though the relationship between the three of you had not changed all that much.

That day was a precious memory, where the three of you had planted the young mulberry sapling in a secret garden that your father had built just for you, but you had opened it to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; a place where none of you had to bare the titles hovering over your heads.

Even the Earth was indiscriminate when it came to dirtying your clothes as you all kneeled to plant the young sapling easily becoming the most important thing in your friendship.

Had the three of you acting as if it was your shared child, arguing who would water the roots, talking to it as if it could respond.

As the years went on, life was much different than when you were all naïve children, but the care and love you had never weakened, even during the occasional arguments that burst between you all.

With age, Hongjoong’s untameable burnt-chocolate hair lightened to a gentle chestnut, long enough that he had to tie it back into a little bun. Seonghwa’s hair, on the other hand, had changed from a soft platinum to a dirty blonde, messy strands now pulled down into a neat style.

The two were lean. Both still taller than you, though Hongjoong was only a few inches from you.

The three of you truly believed you could withstand the test of time. That your relationship would never change no matter how long it had been.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” you whispered, hand clamped to the stone railing of your balcony. “It’s your last chance to back out, Seonghwa.”

You could hear chuckling beside you, deeper than what you used to hear as a kid, though you dared not to look at the boy--the man beside you. “You know very well I can’t do that, Y/N. Would rather it be me that’s marrying you than some officious fool who knows nothing of your happiness.”

Sighing, you leaned over, letting your necklace dangling slightly in the air from around your neck. “Doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness.”

You felt two colder hands wrap around your exposed arms, feeling nice against the humid summer night. Seonghwa’s chin rested down on your shoulder, as he looked on the same scene you were. Soft breaths against your skin had it erupting with goosebumps, and you prayed your friend had not noticed.

He did, but didn’t pay much heed to it--as per usual. If only he would put a little more though into the strange quirks you developed over time--developed around him and him only--maybe he would have realised that you loved him.

More than a friend.

Both of you were too lost in the moment to realise someone had entered your room. The final person to complete your trio. Hongjoong, dressed in his crisp cream and gold uniform, overlooked the scene of you two.

He didn’t know why his heart hurt so badly.

Clearing his throat certainly got your attention, ripping away from each other in fear that someone had caught you two a night before the wedding doing something you shouldn’t have. Was nothing like that, but people--especially those in the castle--tended to blow things out of proportion.

Upon seeing that it was only Hongjoong, you two had released a breath of relief. “For heaven’s sake, Hongjoong! You almost gave me a heart attack,” you said. Seonghwa had his eyes averted to the polished marble floor, unable to meet his friend’s, cheeks flushed.

You thought it was because of embarrassment that someone had caught the two of you so late at night.

It wasn’t.

“I think it would be best for you to return to your room, Seonghwa. Before someone actually does come looking for you. Don’t want someone to see you too,” Hongjoong laughed, now an expert at making a light-hearted aura around him with years of practice.

“Alright then. Good night,” the nobleman smiled, finally bringing his sight up to see his best friend, heart beating feverishly when he saw the gentle smile pulling at his lips. Couldn’t tell it wasn’t real, not even as he left the room.

Now it was just you and Hongjoong.

“Come, let’s take a walk.”

For as long as you could remember, the boy had been attentive to your needs (despite his occasional silly behaviour), long before he was told that it was his job. You’d like to think of it as his sixth sense; knowing how you were, what you needed, when you needed him.

Maybe that’s why he could tell that you had pre-wedding jitters, feeling so sick you barely had the life in you--skin looking more dreary than usual. You needed time away, even for a few minutes, to take a breather from all the commotion.

The two of you walked in silence in the sleeping halls, like two thieves in the night, careful not to wake anyone up.

Hongjoong was aware you liked Seonghwa, but he knew it was unrequited. Why, he could not his finger on. You were prefect, a person who deserved all the love in the world--in the universe.

You knew better than to ask where he was taking you; after all, you trusted him. And maybe because you also knew him well enough to know where he was taking you.

To the secret garden.

“She’s withstood all the storms and droughts the earth has threatened her with. No wonder her bark is so thick and her roots so tough.” His voice was tender as the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough bark, the trunk appearing darker under the absence of the sun. “Gotten so big, hasn’t she?”

As if his actions were a trigger, your hand reached out to stroke the mulberry tree too. “She has...” Tender look in your expression had his breath caught in his throat. Your eyes shifted to meet his, which were already gazing at you. “Do you think she’ll bare fruit this time?”

“The frost has long passed, so not this year, I believe.” Hongjoong couldn’t bare the instant hollow look in your eyes, saddened to his core until the light reignited in your irises--almost glowing in the dark like the fireflies surrounding them.

“But she will next year, right?”

“And she will bare the tastiest fruit. Better than those sold on the markets,” he reassured, though he had an inkling of suspicion that this fruit would not come any time soon. Not after all these years. But that spark in your eyes was the only thing he could not bare to extinguish, so he kept his lips pursed.

“I was reading up on the symbolism of the mulberry trees across cultures,” you said, moving to sit on the wooden swing that hung from one of the stronger branches; the rope had rose vines growing around it, which Hongjoong made sure to maintain so it was safe for you whenever you came. This was your favourite spot, after all.

He raised a brow, moving behind you as his hands rested on your back momentarily before pushing you slightly. “Is that so? Mind telling me?” He already knew from his extensive research to look after the tree, but there was no harm in hearing it again.

Excitedly, you let a wide grin play against your lips as he gradually pushed you higher and higher. “So, in Xiqen, it’s seen as a link between Heaven and Earth, and in Mika, it represents a support, nurturing and self-sacrifice.”

“Is that all?”

“Uh...yes.”

“Strange... I could’ve sworn there was some significance of the mulberry tree in Zepheth.” He began to slow down when he saw your back slump over slightly. Probably because he knew that it wasn’t a happy story.

“There is,” you mumbled, eyes downcast to the evergreen grass rather than meet his soft chocolate ones. “Just... it’s very sad.”

He held your hands in his larger ones, both of you loving the warmth it provided despite the slight heat of the night. “Not all stories are happy. Need to hear the sad ones too, to truly understand the picture.”

Words were a bit cryptic, even for him. Regardless, you had continued. “In Zepheth, there were these two lovers who were forbidden to wed, so they secretly arranged to meet under the mulberry tree. However, they were found out, and killed under the tree, staining the white berries red... It symbolises star-crossed lover and the final union of death.”

The air seemed to be still, despite the rustling of the leaves and chirping of the hidden crickets. Hongjoong kneeled down, pressing a hand onto your cheek to soothe even the slightest bit the grief in your face. “Good thing the other two have nice symbols. Cancels the bad things out.”

Chuckling slightly, you rested your own hand on his, nuzzling into his palm as your eyes shut. Stark contrast between your skins, yours being softer than silk while his were calloused and rough. But it felt nice against the supple flesh of your cheek.

You both thought so.

But with the moon so high and hair beginning to stick to your necks from the humidity and heat, you thought it best to return. “Escort me to my chambers? After all, it is a very big day tomorrow and we both have to rise early for the final preparations.”

As if he needed reminding of that. “Very well then.”

Your servant wasn’t happy with the proceedings--not when he knew that Seonghwa’s eyes did not meet the passion you had in yours, despite your many years of friendship. But he had to agree with him on one thing.

Seonghwa was the best and safest choice you (and the kingdom) had in this moment of time.

So Hongjoong didn’t protest when you walked down the isle in the most breath-taking attire, adorned with pearls and jewels, and a gorgeous bouquet of green and white; gardenias, lily of the valley, earl mountbatten roses, freesia, and ivy--and most importantly, white mulberries.

He didn’t challenge when the vows were spoken and Seonghwa promised to love you and only you forever.

He didn’t object when the Priestess gave the crowd one last chance to speak or forever hold their peace before the deal was sealed with a kiss.

Despite his gut and every other fibre in his being screaming at him otherwise.

Another two decades passed, and now strands of white hairs were peeking through, but unlike before, much had changed. You were now a parent of three--triplets, conceived within the first few tries.

Yunho, San, and Wooyoung. The mulberries of your eyes.

You suppose that’s when the rose-tint on your married life began to fade. Though he was extremely affectionate in the beginning, Seonghwa never touched you like that again after the birth of your children. Though the three kids never really noticed it much as it was all they had known, you could see it clearly.

How he would spend more and more time in his office. How he would climb in bed and talk about your day, but doing nothing more. It was if you two had reverted back to friends--that very thought breaking your heart when you had loved him so dearly.

Felt as if he looked at your feelings as if it were a trinket in a shop before putting it back, not finding it suitable enough for him.

But for Seonghwa, that wasn’t the case at all.

He tried--he really did--to love you.

By now, time had made him wise enough to know of your compassion for him and he begged himself to return your feelings. Spent many nights while you were asleep praying to the entities residing in the Heavens, crying on the hard floor of the palace’s temple until his arms grew sore and his legs went numb.

But he could not look at any other. Seonghwa could not stop his heart knocking against his chest, his cheeks pooling with heat, whenever he saw Hongjoong smile, or laugh, or do the most menial of tasks.

Could not stop the thoughts of him being by his side rather than you--and it killed him to think that, especially when you have been nothing but kind and loving to the both of them--never giving your personal servant too much work or being too stubborn in wanting your husband’s affection. Instead of pressing too much, you worked on the kids and kingdom.

You were kind, selfless.

Maybe Seonghwa should have let someone else marry you. Maybe they could love you back for all those times he couldn’t.

But he supposes that the best thing out of this marriage was his children. Despite Yunho’s hyperactivity, San’s clinginess, and Wooyoung’s mischievousness, he loved the three to the moon and back.

Helped you in raising them over the last two decades into great people.

It was the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

That, and how it had given him the excuse to be closer with Hongjoong too, the two of them learning how to look after the triplets (one already proved to be a handful, but three was a nightmare) while you were unwell or busy with other business.

There were times where he glanced at his childhood friend, playing games with the young kids or feeding them or changing them, and had completely forgotten about you. All that swirled in his head was if this is what it would look like if Hongjoong and he had a family together.

Then Seonghwa would snap out of it a spilt second later, cold shame eating away at the warmth in his chest because how could he ever think of such a thing about the mother of his kids?

Meanwhile, Hongjoong--your intelligent and faithful servant--had figured this out too. Figured out the reason why he felt so sick to his stomach when he saw you be so loving towards a man who doesn’t love you back, and why said man could not reciprocate your feelings.

If Seonghwa felt guilty, then Hongjoong felt a million times worse.

Felt as if he was the reason you were in so much pain--and he could tell you were, because he was the one you came running to in the beginning, when your husband kept his wall up around you and you became so frustrated and upset that you spilled waterfalls of salty tears onto his jacket, mumbling words of pain and heartbreak that stayed within the walls of the secret garden.

It stayed safe there, as Seonghwa no longer visited.

Not even you had visited less, despite being consumed with your children and the work of the kingdom. The tree was a sign of your love for each other, it was your very first child.

Hongjoong, too, had stayed. Continued to care for it, to keep it company on his breaks, to talk about his problems since he certainly could not tell you or Seonghwa. His own tears often landed on the roots of the tree, nurturing it with his pain.

Perhaps that’s why the tree had not bore any mulberries, from the saltiness of the water or the anguish it carried.

But he kept whispering the same thing to you whenever you asked, that the mulberries would definitely come, and they would be tastiest you would ever have. Better than those from the markets.

Five more years had passed and you grew ill. Hid it well, so well that no one except the royal physician knew of your condition. Not even Hongjoong knew, so you took that as an achievement. Rarely anything got by him, especially when it came to you.

Dr Yeosang had looked at you with dreary eyes, putting his equipment away which had signalled the end of your appointment. “Anything?” you inquired, coughing into a blood-stained napkin.

“I’m afraid there is still no diagnosis. None of the symptoms match up to any known illnesses and it appears that it is not spread by people since everyone else in the palace is as fit as a fiddle.”

Your smile was small as you chuckled. “Everyone except me, it seems,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Yeosang simply sighed. “I believe it’s time. Tell your family before it gets even worse--which it has been doing since the first appointment. At least Hongjoong.”

“You know very well I can’t do that. We’re in the middle of a drought and there’s raids going on in the North--”

“Every kingdom faces those, and yours has already dealt with such situations in the past very well.”

You looked away, cheeks now starting to sink in from the lack of appetite. “I know,” you whispered, ”but I can’t bring myself to say it.”

He licked his lips in contemplation, understanding why you wouldn’t want to tell anyone. A monarch is as strong as the kingdom--any instability in the family will cause instability for the nation. And the same goes for a parent and their family.

“I suppose I can try to hide it a little longer... but a month is all I can do--from the rate your illness is progressing.”

Lips tightening in a thin line, you nodded. There was never going to be enough time. Would go greedy, wishing for a month, then another, then another. But your timer was non-negotiable.

So the first thing you did when you left the royal physicians was go see your sons. If there were anyone who needed your attention, they would be your boys.

Short on breath, you tried to travel swiftly through the hallways--bones, now weary with age and sickness, no longer moving the same way as you used to. As you made your way to the royal family’s private wing, you overheard wisps of conversation through a nearby door.

Slowing to a halt, you listened closer, recognising the voices but not seeming to put names to them--brain too muddled to think straight.

“--know.”

“You can’t do that, Seonghwa. Not to her.”

“I can’t force myself to stop caring about you, Hongjoong!”

Your heart stopped mid-beat.

“Keep your voice down!” There was a pause while the floorboards of Seonghwa’s private office creaked, most likely Hongjoong’s habit of pacing while he was thinking. “You need to. I care about you as a friend, but nothing more.”

“You think if I could, I would’ve done so already?” your husband’s voice was seething. “Heavens know how hard I have tried to love her, b-but I just can’t!”

“Well I can’t love you back, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

Another stretch of silence passed, and you could almost imagine the two glaring at each other as they normally did in a fight. “Because you love her. Am I correct?”

A soft sigh came from who you assumed was Hongjoong, quiet but still loud enough for your ears to capture (greatly timed to cover your own gasp at the revelation).

“I don’t know...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“...Nothing.”

“Hongjoong, you know you can tell me anything. Regardless of our positions before or after this conversation, we will always be friends.”

“This is better kept between me and the Heavens.” He sighed once more. “All you need to know is that we can’t be together because I don’t love you and I have my loyalty. End of discussion.”

Had it been anyone else, Seonghwa would’ve had them arrested for speaking that way to their king. But neither of you could ever so that to him. He was your rock, your old friend--his loyalty shining bright even after all these years of serving you.

Before Hongjoong could open the door, you had fled the scene, not wanted to be caught eavesdropping on such a private conversation--even if the topic had concerned you.

Just before entering the Princes’ linked chambers, you caught your breath, willing your pounding heart to stop beating so feverishly.

There was too much going on. Too much, and your brain can’t seem to wrap itself around it all.

“So that’s why,” you whispered, lacking breath in your lungs. “His heart belongs to another...” Then a fit of coughs burst once more and your hands scrambled to retrieve a fresh napkin tucked beneath your sleeve to catch the blood.

Upon hindsight, it was a bad idea to stop in front of your son’s private room, because your extreme coughing had caught his attention. Yunho’s confused eyes melted away to concern, especially after seeing the dark red liquid tainting the pure white cloth.

“Mother!”

His cry had attracted the attention of your other two sons, who swarmed around you as Yunho cradled his arms around you, guiding you to his bed.

San brushed the strands of hair that had escaped from your tight bun away from your face while Wooyoung rubbed your back in attempt to sooth your violent coughing. “What’s wrong, Mum?”

“We need to tell Papa!”

“We need Dr Yeosang--”

“He knows,” you tried to say, doing your breath to bring your breathing back to normal. “The doctor. He’s known... for a long time.”

“What do you mean ‘a long time’?” San asked, his hands clasped around yours, a desperate look in his eyes begging for an explanation. “What’s going on, Mama?”

Not right now. You were supposed to have a month extra. They weren’t supposed to find out so soon. “I...” you throat felt tight and dry, “I’m very unwell. The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong because he’s never seen anything like it before.”

“Then we get a new doctor!” Yunho piped in, voice raised and slightly frantic. You really didn’t need them panicking.

“If Yeosang doesn’t know, then no one will.”

“What about Dad?” Wooyoung asked. “Does he know? Uncle Hongjoong has to know, right? Uncle Hongjoong always kn--”

“Neither of them know. We must keep it that way. So you need to pretend that I’m healthy and well for just one more month. That’s all I ask for. One month.”

You looked between all your children, trying to memorise their faces because Heavens know how long you have left.

As promised, the boys kept your secret for as long as they could--caring and tending to you as much as they could without arousing suspicion from Hongjoong or Seonghwa.

But before your month was up, you had collapsed just after a dinner--slipping in and out of consciousness while your old friend carried you up to Yeosang’s office, the rest of your family in tow, beyond worried.

Yeosang later explained, when you were fully awake, that whatever illness you had was growing at a much faster rate than he anticipated, and you had a few weeks at most.

Now, you were bedridden in your chambers, limbs too heavy and painful to move, lungs feeling like they were being pressed down from the gravity and it got harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Not a day went by where your sons or husband visited you, and Hongjoong had rarely ever left your side. As strong as they all tried to be, their puffy crimson eyes and sniffling noses were all too obvious.

“Seonghwa? Hongjoong?” you said, voice faint and dry. “Could you go out... for a few minutes. I need to... talk to the boys.”

They exchanged glances, before following your quiet word. “What is it, Mama?” San said, crouched beside you as he held your hand once again.

Even as a man in his mid-twenties, your little baby still called you ‘Mama’ and refused to let go of his mother’s hand. Found you as the most comforting thing in the world.

“Remember... the mulberry tree? The one I showed you?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Wooyoung said leaning against the wall that faced you. Despite his playful and nonchalant nature, you knew he was the most emotional one out of the three. Which was why you were very concerned over his silence for the past few days until he finally spoke now.

“I want you three... to look after it once I’m gone.”

“You’re not going, Mother,” Yunho sniffled, tears in his eyes threatening to drop. He was the oldest (by a few minutes) and was still the most respectful. But even then, he was still a kind and soft-hearted boy, much like his brothers.

“But promise me... regardless. That you’ll look after her. And when she finally bares fruit...”

“It’ll be the tastiest fruit,” your sons recited in unison, eyes glossy with unshed tears, “better than any other on the markets.”

With the little strength you had left, you mustered a weak smile. “My good boys... You will become... fine kings one day. I have no doubt.” You let go of San’s hand, hand instantly being consumed by the cold from the lack of insulation and warm blood pumping through your veins. “Now... call in your Father and Uncle.”

And they did so, leaving the room to leave the three of you alone. “What is it, my dear?” Seonghwa caressed your cheek lovingly, but you both knew that it was more of a platonic gesture than a romantic one--more for you than it was for him.

“I know...about your love for Hongjoong.”

You could feel the tension in the air thicken to such a degree that you could slice it with the letter opener that resided on your bedside table. It was Hongjoong who spoke up. “Y/N, you need to know that we never--”

“Did anything... I know.” You look to him, that same weak smile plastering on your face. “Such a loyal friend. Never did deserve you, did I?”

He shook his head as he came down to hold your hand. “No--don’t say that. If anything, I didn’t deserve you as a friend.”

You chuckled softly, careful not to trigger another one of your coughing fits. “If I can’t say things like that... then neither can you. But I would like you both to do two final things for me.”

“Anything,” his voice was still strong, unwavering, but you knew Hongjoong long enough to see the stormy ocean behind his calm gaze, the turmoil he must be feeling right now from losing his closest and oldest friend.

“First thing is.. be happy,” you shifted your gaze over to your husband, “and you too. If you can’t with me... then at least with each other.”

For the first time, your servant let go of your hands, denying your request. “I can’t be happy without you.”

“Then learn to do so. After all, you have... the rest of your life.”

He couldn’t verbally agree to that, not when what he said was true. Not when his own heart lay in your possession--and would to until the day he passed as well. So Seonghwa took the painful step in asking what your second wish was.

You recalled the Zepheth’s symbol of your most beloved possession. Star-crossed lovers and the final union of death. Though the three of you were stuck in a sick triangle of unrequited love by the Heavens, it felt fitting for your story.

And perhaps, with your permanent presence, the fruit would finally grow.

“Bury me under the mulberry tree.”

Extra, alternative ending below If you’re not a fan of fantasy or torturous spirits or man-eating trees, just stop here.

Two young travellers searched around the ruins of a lost palace, greenery overflowing, filling every nook and cranny of the battered stone walls--a rather beautiful sight of Mother Nature reclaiming her lands.

“Where even are we, Mingi?” the shorter, more muscular one of the pair said, stumbling over vines and rubble as he followed the much taller man.

“Not where we’re meant to be, I think,” he quipped, looking at the architecture to find some clues of their whereabouts.

The other rolled his eyes. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t drop the map in the river.”

“Hey! In my defence, it was really windy and the rain made the ground slippery. Leave me alone, Jongho.”

“Not until you give me a damn map.”

Like the archaeology student he was, Mingi studied the tattered tapestry and engravings on the walls until it had hit him. “Holy mother of fresh, sweet hell.”

“What?”

Without answering his best friend’s question, the man too off running, as if he already knew the layout of the place. Jongho ran after him, screaming and almost tripping over the vegetation in the way of his heavy boots.

Once Mingi stopped, his friend held his knees, heaving to catch his breath. “What... the hell... was that for?”

Swivelling on his heel, the tall explorer had sparkles in his eyes. “This is it! The Lost Kingdom! The thing we’ve been looking for!”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “You mean you’ve been looking for? I was just dragged along by your antics as usual.” He narrowed his eyes when he finally saw where his friend took him. “A tree? You took me to see a goddamn TREE?!”

Mingi got closer the enormous mulberry tree, gazing at it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Not just any tree. It’s the Queen Y/N’s tree!”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jongho sighed, feeling the rage burn within him like a furnace, “you took me to see a dead woman’s tree?”

“Yes, but--”

“WE ALMOST DIED, MINGI! TWICE!” He held up two fingers, expressing his point further. “AND ALL THAT FOR A GODDMAN TREE?!”

“The lore surrounding it was well worth the trip,” a voice said, the two boys’ head spinning to see a person dressed in old, fancy clothing, perched upon the swing--now completely covered with vines and moss. Both of them swore they hadn’t noticed them there. Yet, they brushed it off anyways, thinking that they just had silent movement.

“Who are you?” Mingi asked, head cocked to the side as he became familiar with the sight of them.

“The protector of this tree,” they replied. “Who are you?”

“Some travellers...sightseeing,” Jongho piped in, sceptical of this person who looked like they were in their twenties, just like them.

“You were talking about lore?” The older of the two inquired, already greatly invested in the whole place. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Why, I must be. After all, I look after her,” they said, lovingly stroking the trunk of the tree. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please!” Mingi sat down, like a child excited for story time despite knowing the book by-heart, while Jongho stayed stood up beside him.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a very strong and powerful Kingdom--”

“The Lost Kingdom!” the child-like man shot out, too giddy to hold back.

The person giggled, his antics reminding them of someone they used to know. “Yes, I believe that’s what you call it. Well, there were three children that lived here; one was of royalty, one of nobility, and the third was a servant--but they were the best of friends, despite their status.”

The muscular boy narrowed his eyes at the childish tone the person was using, not liking how it sounded--how it started to make him feel weary.

“They planted this tree,” they tapped the trunk with their hand, “right here, and nurtured it for as long as they could. As they grew older, the royal and nobleman got married and had children together, while the servant dedicated his life to helping them.”

Jongho sat down, feeling more dreary than normal, coughing a little, while Mingi did the same, not feeling so well either.

“They were all still close, regardless of personal disputes between them, but their love for each other began to weaken only once the tree remained barren of fruit. But they kept up hope, saying that it will the next year.”

The travellers had found it hard to breath, as if there was a pressure on their lungs, squeezing them flat.

“But then, the royal found out they were dying, so they asked to buried under the mulberry tree. In their mind, their body would give the tree the nutrients it needed to finally bare the mulberries they so desperately craved. But no fruit had bore, making the spirit of the royal restless.”

Jongho coughed violently, thick red liquid dribbling down his chin, looking over to Mingi who was hunched over in pain. "But... that’s a fruitless... mulberry tree.”

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as their brows furrowed, scowl pulling at their lips, the swing stopped swinging. “And who are you to say that?”

“Because I study... goddamn plants.”

Then it clicked in Mingi’s head--what was going on. “Jongho... shut up--” His chest squeezed harder, a yelp escaping his lips as he toppled to the side.

“Carrying on from that rude interruption,” the person glared at the younger of the two, who was now lying on his side, curled into the foetal position, “the nobleman and servant then died a while after, and were buried side-by-side with the royal.”

Overgrown roots of the tree began to soften, becoming more flexible like snakes as they began to slither their way to the two young boys.

“But even their bodies weren’t enough. So the royal’s spirit swore to use whatever they could to make the tree finally bare fruit.”

The roots wrapped around each boys ankle, spiralling up until it wrapped the two of them in a cocoon. And neither of them could do anything, too tired to yell or move around, succumbing to the sweet release of sleep.

Getting up off the swing, the person rested their forehead on the trunk of the tree.

“And it will be the tastiest fruit. Better than any other on the markets.”

A/N: If you didn’t get it, the tree not growing any fruit was a metaphor of unrequited love. I feel like I didn’t really explain that properly, but there you go.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

I hear you like prompts? Well I am well known for. The List. *unrolls scroll* sick fic, jealousy, fighting suitors, hostage situation, hypothermia, use of safe word, spa day, ruddiger v Hugo

AO3

It’s midday by the time Hugo finally deems his companions worthy of his company.

They’ve been staying at a small estate in Galcrest, with some friends of Nuru’s family who were kind enough to put them up for the weekend.

The last few trials have been grueling--if Varian’s being completely honest--what with the cave of mirrors and the hall of memories haunting Nuru’s nights and Yong’s smiles and Varian’s everything. So a break in what their gang was affectionately nicknaming “the air kingdom” seemed in order.

The first few days go by fine--Nuru drags Hugo out to the marketplace, talking shop about swords and armory to her heart's content, while Varian and Yong scour the countryside and set off fireworks in the clear skies.

It’s exactly what their group needs to get back on track--a little rest and a lot of free time to relax and get to know one another better.

Then Hugo shows up for breakfast one morning and all of Varians’ optimism flies out the window.

“Whoa, are you sick?” Yong says, popping his head out of the pantry. “You look terrible.”

Hugo sends him an irritated glance. “No,” he says and then immediately sneezes. “I’m not sick,” he says, peevishly when they all continue staring at him in silence. His voice sounds like he’s been gargling rocks.

Nuru places a hand on his flushed forehead that he immediately swats off. “You’re burning up,” she says with a frown. “Did you leave your window open last night?”

“More likely that he got it from town,” Varian mutters. He seems to remember a kindly merchant lamenting about his daughter coming down with a spring cold. Dammit Hugo.

“I’m going to heat up some soup,” Yong says decisively, already making a bee-line for the cupboards.

“I don’t need soup.” Hugo literally cannot sound any more like a sulky pre-teen right now. “What I need is for you all to stop ganging up on me.”

“What you need is a doctor,” Nuru mutters.

Hugo turns his scowl on her.

“How about this,” Varian says, once again playing diplomat between his two best friends, “Hugo eats the soup, and Nuru doesn’t make him see a doctor.

Hugo and Nuru continue to eye each other for a moment before Hugo mutters out an annoyed “fine.”

Varian has a feeling that today is going to be an exercise in not dumping his best friends.

____

About three hours into the “Hugo is pretending that he’s not sick” fiasco, Nuru has decided she’s had enough.

“I’m taking Yong to town,” she says, wrapping a scarf around the younger boy. “If the idiot won’t see a doctor, than I’m at least going to get him some medicine.”

Varian, who was the person who had to deal with Hugo throwing up in the bathroom half the afternoon, privately agrees.

“Is there anything I should do?” he asks, not exactly sure what to do with sick people. His dad never got sick and Rapunzel had about a million physicians taking care of her whenever she contracted some illness or another.

“Try and keep him in bed. I also left some tea leaves in the kitchen, if he feels up to drinking anything.” Nuru adds, halfway out the door. “I know you want to kill him most of the time, but it would be most inconvenient to hide his body.”

Varian rolls his eyes. “I’ll do my best,” he says, dryly.

He doesn’t actually plan to antagonize Hugo--let alone kill him. Despite the fact that the blond still manages to annoy him on a daily basis, he’s also kinda friends with the guy now.

They’ve fallen into an easy companionship with mutual banter and annoyed antics that usually have their friends up in arms, but it works for them.

Besides, the guy just looked far too pathetic, dry heaving in the sink this morning, to give him a hard time.

A few minutes after Nuru and Yong leave, Varian makes his way to the room Hugo is staying in. At first glance, the place appears empty--bed unmade, small sitting area absent of life--but after a quick scan of the large room, Varian finds him.

Hugo sits on the window seat. His legs are drawn up under him and his head rests against the wall. The breeze filtering through the open window brushes his hair back from his forehead and makes the open collar of his white, unbuttoned shirt, fluttering slightly.

Something about the sight of him--flushed, exhausted, unguarded--twists something in Varian’s stomach.

“Hey,” he says, voice cracking too loudly in the quiet.

Hugo doesn’t turn his head, but his shoulder inch up slightly. “Hey,” he says back, eyes glued to something outside the window.

Varians’ eyes narrow in on the gooseflesh raised on the skin of his neck. With a sigh, he snatches a blanket off the bed and goes to Hugo, draping it over his shoulders.

Hugo turns his head at that, blinking up at him owlishly through round glasses. “Oh,” he says, like he’s just noticing Varian’s here. Which is concerning. “Thanks.”

Varian shrugs a shoulder, throwing himself on the other side of the window seat. It’s a large enough space--or maybe Varian’s just short--for the two of them to sit without touching. Not that Varian’s thinking of touching him.

An uneasy silence--on Varian’s part, at least--falls over them as Hugo continues to stare blankly out the window. His usually brilliant green eyes are glazed over, enhancing the flush that’s spread from his face, down his to his neck.

He sniffs a couple of times, nose wrinkling.

“Nuru wants you to drink some tea, I think,” Varian says, tapping his fingers against his knee nervously. “I can go get some for you if you wa-”

“It’s fine.” Hugo’s voice carries no intonation. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Varian says, in a very measured voice. The last thing he wants to do is upset the guy right now.

Hugo’s eyes shut. His lips press together tightly, but not out of anger. He looks like he’s just barely holding it together, and Varian doesn’t understand why.

Or, maybe he does. Varian used to be very open and free with his emotions, but over the past few years--since everything in Corona with his dad, the amber, Cass--Varian has gotten used to putting up shields around his heart. Vulnerability was a very scary thing, especially with those you cared about.

Hugo didn’t seem to be the type of person who liked to show weakness.

A particularly chilling breeze brushes through the window. It’s enough that even Varian is shivering at it’s touch.

He reaches out slowly and gently pulls the blanket around Hugo tighter. Hugo’s eyes open at that, watching Varian with an unreadable emotion.

“I think you should lie down,” Varian says.

Hugo shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Hugo-”

“The bed’s too soft,” Hugo exhales, sounding embarrassed.

Something in Varian’s stomach twists painfully. The year after prison hadn’t been easy, but most of it was just getting used to being able to walk around without having the entirety of Corona’s military breathing down your neck. The other half was getting used to how soft his threadbare bed in Olde Corona felt.

Varian gets it. He doesn’t know Hugo’s story yet, but he gets it.

“Lie down here then,” he coaxes, one hand coming up to cup his neck. It’s warm--too warm. The worry simmering in Varian’s gut flares.

“What, on you?” Hugo snorts, sounding--if for a moment--a bit like himself.

Varian feels his own face flush about as badly as Hugo’s face is right now. “Would it make you feel more comfortable?” he asks, voice pitching up high.

Hugo’s stares at him hazily, the fever most likely getting in the way of his higher processing powers. “Yeah,” he says, looking not quite all there. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

And then he flops face first into Varian’s lap.

Varian lets out a surprised laugh, one hand going to his hair. “Okay then,” he says, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

“Mmphf.”

Varian snorts, coaxing Hugo into rolling over so that he can at least breathe. “Why do I put up with you?” he mutters, more amused than exasperated for once.

Hugo blinks a couple of times at him. “It’s weird,” he says at last. “You’re weird. I’ve never had someone who’s wanted to put up with me before.”

Varian’s hopes Hugo can’t tell his heart just shattered into about a million pieces. “Well, you do now,” he says, easing Hugo’s glasses off his face and delicately placing them on the nearby end table. “You have three people, in fact, who are willing to put up with your dumb ass.”

The blond squints up at him. “But you were first. That’s-” he gestures gracelessly with one hand, “-that’s important.”

Varian smooths his hair back from his forehead, mentally taking note of the amount of heat coming off his flushed skin. “Yeah?”

“Mmm.” Hugo’s eyes close. “You keep doing that. Surprising me.”

“Well someone has to knock your ego down a few notches.”

A ghost of a grin. His eyes open again, almost as if he’s worried Varian has left in the few seconds he stopped looking.

“Hugo, go to sleep,” Varian chides. He runs his fingers through Hugo’s hair again, hoping it will draw him into sleep. “I can continue to surprise you tomorrow.”

“You’re surprising me now,” Hugo mumbles, but he’s becoming more and more pliant with each pet of Varian’s fingers through his hair. “Don’t go anywhere, ‘kay?”

Varian swallows. “I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “Now go to sleep.”

Hugo’s eyes finally drop shut, breath evening out. Varian leans back against the wall, one hand in the blond’s hair. The weight of the other boy is both grounding and sends strange flutterings to Varian’s stomach that he doesn’t understand.

Hugo lets out a small snore in his sleep. It’s adorable. Hugo’s adorable, Varian realizes, much to his horror.

Another breezes brushes in through the window, setting the white, transparent curtains afloat in the air. Hugo shivers slightly, curling up closer around Varian.

His face is pressed somewhere between his thigh and stomach, one arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Varian runs his fingers through Hugo’s soft hair again and comes to two realizations simultaneously.

Varian has feelings for Hugo. Positive feelings. Fluffy, mushy, fluttering feelings that reside somewhere between his aching heart and the butterflies in his stomach and Varian wants to cry or throw up or maybe kiss the dumb blond until those feelings settle themselves.

Hugo might--a very, very tentative might, because Varian isn’t great at reading other people at the best of times--just might have feelings for Varian. Maybe.

That’s important, he had said, eyes glazed, pupils dilated, lips parted. You keep doing that. Surprising me.

Varian shuts his eyes. Yeah, he’s totally and utterly fucked.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Protective v.2 - Harry Hook x reader - oneshot rewrite

rewrite of one of my first oneshots! Protective! which was a request back when i was taking them! i just wanted to update the writing and plot a bit lol. i dont remember who originally requested it, i think it was an anon request otherwise i would @/ them! 

=

You stared down at the plus sign on the little pink stick in your hands, you had taken the test three sperate times, only for it to be positive each time.

You were pregnant.

With Harry Hooks baby.

How did you know to check if you were? It had been three months since your last period, and you had not been feeling the best for the last two.

Throwing up each day, motion sickness, and then unable to eat at times, then get the oddest cravings only minutes later.

Uma told you there was only one option.

And there it was, staring right back at you, pregnancy.

How were you going to tell Harry…

How were you going to tell Mal?

She hated Uma and Harry, there's no way in hell she would approve of you and harry together, that’s the whole reason you never told her about your meetups in the seven months you had been seeing harry.

You were glad that Mal never got the inkling to walk over to Uma's territory and see you and Harry together.

Evie might be happy for you but with one word from Mal she would turn, and you didn’t want to lose any of them, but you didn’t want to lose Harry and Uma either.

Harry had saved you at a dark time in your life, and Uma had taken you in even though you were apart of Mal's crew, the two-no them and their crew had become a second family to you.

If Mal refused you simply because you had been flirting with the “enemy” you would gladly throw down her flag to raise Uma's.

But you still at least wanted to tell your friends about your accidental pregnancy before they left for Auradon, which was within the hour.

=

“hey guys?” the four vks stopped, looking over at you and raising their brow “I need to talk to you before you leave”

“Okay, shoot” Mal hummed, tossing her sketchbook in her backpack and leaning against the wall. Claros and Evie stopping in their little card game and giving you their full attention, Jay sighing and nodding to you.

“um-im pre-“ “MAL!” Mal jumped at her mother's shrill voice echoing through the room, leaning over to look at her mother looking into the room “get your butt over here, the limo is here!” “you said it wouldn’t be here till 11!” Mal yelled back, Maleficent just pointed over at the wall clock, the five of you hurrying to look.

It read 11:01 am.

“shit” Mal cursed, grabbing her bags and running out of the room, the rest of the vks quickly packing up their things and following after Mal, Evie quickly grabbing your arm and tugging you along.

You tried to get a word in but by the time you caught your breath, everyone but Mal was already loaded into the van.

“mal?” you whispered, stiffening as Mal smirked and patted your arm.

“you can tell us when we get back kay? Oh, and stay away from the docks, Hooks been eyeing you up and I don’t trust him or Uma as far as I can throw them.”

You couldn’t get out a word, your brain shorting out  “i-I okay” you muttered, watching mal nod and hop into the limo, feeling your nails dig into the palm of your hand as you watched your friends drive away.

=

Hours later you sat in Uma’s room, watching Uma stare down at the positive test in her hands, your leg bouncing as you waited for her reaction. She looked up at you and smiled.

“congrats girl, now how you telling Harry?”

You sighed in relief at her calm demeanor and shrugged “I have no clue how i’m going to tell him, i’m-i’m not scared of it, but I don’t know how he’ll react, I mean, he’s never shown any interest in kids other than the twins and-I really don’t know if he’ll react…positively to this?”

“well you have to tell him at some point (y/n), it's his kid too”

“I know I know….I just don’t know how to tell Harry im-“

“tell meh wha?” you squealed and spun around, seeing Harry in the doorway, brows raised in confusion “sorry love, but Uma, yer mom is lookin fer yeh”

Uma groaned and stood from her bed, pushing past harry and nodding at you “tell him” Harry gave her an odd look and walked over to you, taking your hands and pressing his lips to the back of your hand.

“what do yeh need ta tell meh lass?”

“um-i-“ you stuttered, eyes moving about the room, avoiding his gaze. The grip on your hands tightened before they released, moving to your shoulders.

“are yeh okay?” Harry murmured, worry buried in his tone, “yer kinda scarin’ meh?”

“i’m-i’m” you took a deep breath, taking Harrys hands and placing them on your stomach “i’m pregnant”

Harry entire body stopped, eyes locked on your intertwined hands placed on your stomach “harry” you whispered, feeling bile rise in your throat and the anxiety grow the longer he stared at you “um-are you….is this okay?”

“im gon’a be a da’” Harry finally whispered, tears trailing down his cheeks as a smile broke out on his face, he looked up at you, his eyes shining with joy “im gonn’a be a da!” he picked you up by the waist, spinning you around as he laughed and continued to repeat the phrase “im gonn’a be a da!”

You broke free from your trance and started to laugh with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning back in his arms, stumbling a bit as he set you on your feet and pulled you into his chest. “ill be the best da’d I ca’n be on this dumpster fire of an island I swear” harry muttered into your neck, you hummed and tightened your grip around his shoulders.

“well we might not have to raise them here” Harry pulled back, raising his brow “Mal and the others went to Auradon today, and they’re going to get the wand and free us all” a grin spread on Harry's face, his eyes brightening.

“yes!” he picked you up again and held you tightly, you giggled, wrapping your legs around his waist “we can get a house by the shore! An’ well get our own ship to travel the world an-“ you laughed and pressed your finger to his lips, silencing him.

“why don’t we take this one step at a time okay?” Harry pouted, but nodded, setting you down on your feet again and grabbing your hand.

“fine, let's go get yeh some food okay?” he lead you out of Uma’s room and towards the chip shop.

“okay~” you sang, feeling the weight on your shoulders fall as you mentally reaffirmed yourself that Harry was happy to be a dad, and wouldn’t be leaving you.

-

You stared at the tv in the chip shop, watching in horror as your…friends, betrayed you, choosing to stay in Auradon and be good.

They…..they weren’t going to come back….you knew it….some might say it was too early to tell, some might say they were playing the long con.

But you knew Mal, you knew Evie, Jay, Carlos….they were truly choosing good, and were leaving you behind.

The world around you blurred, Harry's feral cursing and growing fading into the background, you feebly reached out, fingers brushing against his jacket.

“(y/-(y/n)!” he called out to you, his hands wrapping around your head and waist as you fell out of your chair and crumbled to the floor.

-

The sound of something being hit woke you from your impromptu sleep, Harry's quiet cursing in the background.

You cracked your eyes open, surveying the room, seeing that you were in Harry's room, buried in his sheets while he paced around the room, hands buried in his hair and muttering to himself.

“gakit cunts, tell Uma n’ I that she's theirs then jus’ leave her” he cursed, stamping his foot as he spun on his heel, his bright blue eyes locked with yours, widening and bolting over to you, crashing on his knees to kneel next to you “love are yeh okay?!” “i’m fine” you sighed, slowly sitting up and sitting against Harry's pillows “just….shocked you know?”

“aye…i’m so sorry (y/n)….” He pressed his hand to your stomach, shoulders slumping “we won't be able ta raise them in the open world like we wanted”

“as long as i’m with you harry, it doesn’t matter” you comforted, pressing your hand to his cheek and rubbing it with your thumb. He gave a soft smile and leaned up to press a soft kiss to your cheek.

“I feel the same” he smiled, standing and climbing onto the bed next to you, pulling your head to his shoulder and letting you relax against him “ye need ta be more careful from now on okay? We can't ‘ave more spills like that”

You snorted, closing your eyes and rubbing your cheek against his chest “you say that yet everyday you half risk your life for the stupidest shit”

Harry rolled his eyes, kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes “whatever” he mumbled.

You gently smacked his thigh and maneuvered to rest in the crook of his body, pulling the blanket over the two of you and sighing, ready for a nap.

Uma entered the room thirty minutes later, looking for harry, stopping as she saw you and Harry wrapped up in each other's embrace, your face buried in his neck and head resting on his shoulder.

One of Harry's arms completely wrapped around your waist protectively, the other arm resting beneath your head and hand covering his eyes as he slept silently.

Uma sighed and smiled, stepping out of the room quietly and closing the door behind her “I’ll get Gil to do it” she muttered, walking back up to the main deck.

=

After 7 and a half months and an exhausting 72 hours in labor, you had finally delivered your month and a half early baby. “hi” you whispered, a tired grin spreading across your face as Desiree handed the screaming babe to you “you came a little early hun” you cooed, feeling fresh happy tears prick at your eyes as the small hand of your newborn wrapped around your finger, her eyes cracked open the slightest bit, Harry's bright blue irises staring at you for a moment before they closed.

“Harry” you laughed, not taking your eyes off the babe as he slowly leaned up from his crouched position by your side and looked at the swaddle of red and pink in your arms “she has your eyes”

“really?” Harry whispered in wonder, reaching out to touch the baby's pudgy cheek gently, gasping as she let out a small whine and released your finger to grab his “i-iahhghghg” Harry fell back on his knees, his eyes shining with tears “she's perfect” he whined, voice wavering.

You giggled and shifted to maneuver the baby into Harry's arms, he sputtered for a moment before he took her comfortably in his arms, the babes head resting on his arm safely. “oh” he whispered, unable to look away from the little girl in his arms….his little girl “she's amazin’ love” he sniffed, biting his lip.

You smiled, snuggling down into the sweaty pillows and contently watching Harry hold your brand new baby girl in his arms, looking down at her with the softest look.

“what-what are we naming ‘er?” Harry whispered, gasping as the babe let out a little burp and snuggled into his arms, tiny hand grasping onto his shirt.

“what about the names we discussed” you mumbled, feeling sleep weighing down on your eyes.

“….Emma? but I thought yeh wanted the name ta be Arella if it was a girl?” Harry asked, carefully standing and sliding onto the bed.

“why not both,” you asked, resting your cheek against his arm, smiling softly at the sleeping baby girl.

“….Emma Arella?....that sounds a bit odd, Arella Emma Hook….I like that?” Harry rambled to himself, staring off into a corner while absentmindedly rocking the babe.

“I like Arella Emma” you sighed, closing your eyes and slowly falling into the comfortable reins of sleep, following your little Arella’s lead.

“Arella Emma Hook” Harry whispered, leaning down and kissing her head “Welcome to the world, my love”

-

You bounced Arella on your hip as you traveled the back alleys of the Isle to get back to the ship after visiting Dizzy to have her cut your hair. You cooed at Arella and turned a corner, stopping as you locked eyes with a familiar blue-haired “princess”

“(y/n)?” Evie gasped, her hands covering her mouth “you-you’re still-“

“here?” you snapped, glaring at the three-no four teens standing across from you, shock clear on the vks faces, and confusion on the fourth….king ben. “how surprising, but considering you abandoned me, I guess It shouldn’t be” you lifted Arella to your shoulder and started to turn back towards the docks when Evie reached out to grab your shoulders.

“(y/n) wait we never-is that a baby?” Evie stopped mid-sentence, staring right back at Arella, who was glaring back at her, her bright ocean blue eyes flashing.

“yes, and she's the reason I needed to talk to you before you left” you muttered, smirking at the look on Evie's face. “oh? Did I forget to mention? Oh, wait! I just never got the chance since well, you never came back like you promised” you spat, stepping away from Evie as she tried to reach out to you again. “(y/n)” Evie started, her brown eyes dark with tension “whos the father? Did you say yes?”

“how-how dare you?!” you screamed, taking several steps back from the vks, tightening your grip on Arella, “you think she's a rape baby?! I-I” you sputtered, feeling your face heat up the longer you looked at the traitors “and for your information the father is-“ “Step away from them, now” the deep growling voice of your boyfriend seeped in from the shadows behind you, hand gently curling on your shoulder and guiding you behind him as he stepped up, drawing his sword, guarding you against your old “friends”

Jay glared at the pirate, attempting to rush him and grab your arm to get you away from what he thought was the enemy. Harry snarled, slashing down at his arm, making jay leap back, yelping as harry slashed to the side with his sword “what did I tell  yeh Jay, stay away from my girl”

“yo-your girl?!” Jay sputtered, eyes leaping between you and Harry “but-she-“ he shook his head “there's no way that kids yours Hook! (y/n) couldn’t have possibly gotten pregnant AND given birth within six months!”

You grabbed Harry's shoulder as his entire body tensed, shaking your head as he turned to you with confused eyes, you handed the squirming Arella to him, who immediately latched onto his neck and snuggled into him.

“look” you sighed, crossing your arms and cocking your hip “me and Harry were together before you left, and I was three months pregnant the day you left, I was trying to tell you about it but you left before I could tell you and then you never came back, I really didn’t have a choice” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders “I never told you before that because I knew Mal would throw me to the streets to fend for myself, and not one of you would have said a thing”

The three vks looked at each other, shame clear in their expressions, Evie tried to speak up again but you silenced her with the waved of your hand “don’t bother, nothing you say will make it better” you turned around, grabbing Harrys now free hand and leading him away.

Ben watched the two teen parents walk away from him, frowning as the vks shook their head and continued onto their hideout. They-they were just going to leave it at that? They defiantly knew who she was, and expressed worry for her but….they were just going to move on? Not even ask him if she could come to Auradon…in the six months, not once had they mentioned her…

Ben looked back to where the red-coated pirate and (y/n) had once stood….as soon as he got back to Auradon, the next round of vks would finally be coming to Auradon.

Starting with Harry, (y/n) and their baby.

-end-

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[power-rings]

Growing Pains

Chapter Two: A Bond

"I need you to know I would never be this strong without you You’ve seen how I’ve grown you took all my doubt Cause you were home..."

Weeks and months went by, and Maria succeeded in sneaking Shadow out of the lab. It happened so often to the point it was no longer a secret to her grandfather; not that he minded anymore, now. Shadow was developing just perfectly on his own, without anything from IVs, fluid, and some oxygen from a machine. So, Prof. Gerald was more than happy to allow Shadow some exercise. Although, the lifeform was developing just fine he did struggle to keep his balance every so often. With the help of Maria, he was able to maneuver around their unique home in Space. Over the time they've spent together they were becoming quite a interesting pair. It wasn't common they would get into trouble, but sometimes trouble would end up finding them.

One accident occurred between a middle-aged female nurse, which Maria swore to Shadow that she was like 150 years old and would never die. (He didn't quite understand, yet nodded in agreement either way.) Everyone called her an old hag on the A.R.K. but she did well at her job, despite her nasty attitude towards... well... everyone. For the first several years that Maria was on the Space Colony, this nurse didn't allow Maria to do anything except stay in her bed. She would force her to take some horrible medications, with worse side-effects. She didn't believe the old lady that they were helping her immune system, but Grandpa reassured her worries. Nobody really calls her by her real name, therefore she is known by That Nurse, and some other nasty names Maria would not repeat. That Nurse always wore her hair up in a bun, with a light blue pin tightly in her hair. For years, she told Maria that leaving her room would be a disaster for her health, she even hinted that she should go on Earth... because her grandfather wasn't present all the time. Unbeknownst to Maria though, she didn't have any living parents on Earth, so grandpa had to be best option for a guardian. If she was able to go out of the room, she was forced to wear a protective clothing, and uncomfortable masks. Eventually, Prof. Gerald had enough and told her that the treatments will be enough to keep her immune system strong, she of course argued with the man to no avail.

Can you guess how she felt about her friend, Shadow? She would spit out insults at Shadow, such as "you're just a lab rat", and "get back in your tube where you belong!" Maria frowned at her, and continued on her way, blocking the nasty old lady out. Thankfully, the rest of the residents were more approving of Shadow, and even found him to be quite interesting. None of them really knew what Gerald's purpose behind his creation, but that answer will come in due time.

Throughout their days together, Maria invited Shadow to try various foods from the cafeteria. Most of which was prepared by some of the greatest cooks that Gerald hired. It was quite different than some of the foods that they would enjoy on Earth. Her grandpa said that Shadow didn't have to eat, and could get away with eating one meal a week or longer. But, she insisted. Some of the foods such as veggies were packed tightly in portioned out boxes. (at that time they were trying to figure out how to grow veggies, and fruit in Space, so most of it were grown from Earth. ) Shadow was grossed out by broccoli, unless it was covered in the yellow substance called cheese. Anything else that was green, he refused to consume. Some of the other foods given were hand-prepared by the cooks among those meals... spaghetti were their favorites.

Their days would end by looking out the observation room where Earth, and some other planets orbited near them. It was absolutely stunning. Maria talked and talked about the books she read about this beautiful planet, Shadow of course soaked it all in. When it was it their curfew, this alarm would go off around the Space Colony, and everyone made their ways back to their rooms to settle for bed. Prof. Gerald would always walk Maria to bed, and would leave Shadow in the lab, but for the first night, he allowed Shadow to stay in Maria's own room. She worked on a make-shift bed for him, which was surrounded by soft pillows, and tons of stuffed animals - you would almost confuse Shadow for one! This became a routine every night from then on.

Maria's 10th birthday of all days she fell really ill. And when she got sick, it can be very deadly for her. Shadow was forced to stay out of the room, doctors, Prof. Gerald, and That Nurse were huddled around her bedside, checking her vitals, poking her with needles injected with medications. He waited outside of her door for days to come, faithfully obeying Prof. Gerald's orders. She was ill for about fourteen days, but gradually regained her strength, and Shadow was able to keep her company. No one knew what caused her to get ill, but whatever it was, almost everyone caught it and less people were seen roaming around. The next couple of weeks were slow, and their typical routine were a little different because Maria was struggling to regain her strength. When she was allowed to leave the room, because of the illnesses spread amongst the crew were no longer contagious, Shadow ended up carrying the girl to the observation room to see Earth... together. Their bond had grew drastically, and the two were inseparable.

A year went by since Shadow's creation, he grew to be typical hedgehog's height, and weight. Still a shorty, as Maria teases. During that same year, the nurse that everyone thought would never die, she ended up falling sick, and was sent back to Earth and died peacefully surrounded some of her grandchildren. It was almost weird not to hear her voice echo through the corridors of the Space Colony.

"What does it mean to die?" Shadow asked the pre-teen, he watched the screen in the cafeteria, that displayed various pictures of the nurse to pay tribute to her - they learned her name was in fact... Linda.

Maria raised an eyebrow, this wasn't a subject that children typically talked about. But, for her she had came close to the jaws of death more times than she liked. It didn't mean it didn't scare her. Any normal being would be scared... "Grandpa describes as a deep sleep..." Which he wasn't exactly wrong when he watched many of his creations go to sleep and never wake up. Maria played with her food, a little distraught, "but he says that Linda isn't suffering anymore." She gave a little smile. Shadow blinked, and the whole topic of death was completely dropped between the two.

His first year alive was literally hell from then on. Those scientists that observed him when he was tiny... they returned to discover any progress being made with the Ultimate Lifeform, he almost forgot that's what they called him. Shadow was being lead down the hallway to a room that he never knew existed, it was labeled as the "Testing Room". It was a huge empty room, no windows except for the up ahead where his creator observed, and the six other men standing before a platform that had a ton of buttons. "Let's see what it's capable of, shall we?" Stephen who had higher authority than the other 5. "Lifeform," he spoke into the microphone, his harsh voice echoing in the room. "destroy these robots." Within seconds, two robots were dropped from the ceiling. Prof. Gerald nervously watched above.

Shadow's ears pricked back, rather confused. Why did he have to destroy them? It wasn't like they were trying to harm him - OH SHIT, nope nevermind they're shooting at the lifeform now. He winced in pain, and growled. Tossing a glare at the men watching him. They kept firing. Shadow dodged left and right. Eventually, he was on all fours, panting. He was bleeding, but nothing that wouldn't heal on it's own unlike any other living being. His opponents approached him while he was down. "Lifeform! What in the hell are you doing?! DESTROY THEM!" He hollered from the control room. It was at that second Shadow's friend ran inside to his side, shielding him.

"STOP! You're gonna hurt him!" Upstairs, Gerald's face went white as the robot found a new target.

"SHUT IT OFF!" He roared, he shoved the men out of the way, and slammed his fist on the red button in the middle of the console. Immediately, the robot's systems went idle.

Maria hugged Shadow close, tears falling down her cheek - concerned deeply for her friend. Coming to reality, Shadow return the embrace. "Let's get you out of here..." She sniffled.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 24]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 3,000

Chapter 23

1943 - Italy

Steve doodled as the rain poured down around him.

His pencil traced back and forth over the dancing monkey.

“Steve?” A voice said behind him.

He did a half glance over his shoulder and quickly did a double take when he found Y/N soaking wet with only an oversized military jacket around her shoulders.

He shot to his feet.

“Y/N!”

Steve rushed forward and pulled her into his arms. 

She was freezing. 

He immediately took off his coat and wrapped it on top of the other one that was the only thing keeping her from being completely naked.

“Are you OK? Are you hurt? How long have you been here? Were you looking for me long?” He rattled off question after question.

She smiled. “Take a breath, Steve. I’m fine.”

She pointed for him to sit back down and followed suit. 

He did as she said. Then he suddenly got bashful and embarrassed. He shifted his weight awkwardly as if he was trying to hide from her gaze.

Y/N caught on rather quickly. “How does it feel?”

Steve was speechless.

“This is your first time seeing me since your operation, isn’t it?” Y/N added, but she already knew the answer.

He just nodded, too uncomfortable to meet her gaze.

“I bet you can’t keep the girls off you,” Y/N teased.

Steve blushed. “Well, I don’t know about that – I mean, don’t be ridiculous.”

Y/N giggled.

His face dropped, “You were right. It did work.”

She gave him a warm grin. “Told you that you were the right man, didn’t I?”

Steve frowned. “Yeah, except now I’m just their show pony.”

“Now what would Agent Carter think of that?” Y/N teased.

It was such a strange game to play, pushing Steve toward Peggy when Y/N knew that she would be Steve’s second love because of her. 

Y/N respected Peggy, appreciated what she’d taught Steve about love – especially what she taught him about loving a strong, independent woman.

But there were still times when jealousy reared it’s ugly head. Y/N hated those times.

Steve’s eyes widened at the mentioning of Peggy.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about her,” Y/N smirked.

“How are you?” Steve changed the subject. His eyes were serious and genuine. “Last time I saw you, you were upset with me – future me, that is.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what I’m saying. You could be visiting me from before that time. This all gets rather confusing, huh?”

Y/N chuckled at his adorable frustration and confusion, and gave him a shy smile. “No, you were right the first time. I’m visiting from further into the future.” She nodded, “Things are better. I forgave you. Don’t think there will ever be a time when I can’t.”

Steve exhaled, relieved that there wouldn’t be a time when Y/N would stop being his friend, stop talking to him, stop visiting him through time.

Y/N’s eyes glanced at Steve’s sketchbook.

“Feeling like a dancing monkey, Steve?” Her tone was playful, but the question was serious.

He quickly closed the book. He cleared his throat. “I’m traveling with dancing girls, trying to get people to buy war bonds.”

Y/N nodded, “Wars are expensive.”

“But I could be doing more,” he snapped back.

“Then do more, Steve.”

“I can’t – I’m not even officially in the army.”

Y/N laughed, “Since when have you ever followed the rules?”

He laughed too.

She carefully reached out and took his sketchbook.

Steve tensed as flipped through it. She wasn’t surprised to see a portrait or two of Peggy. There was also some of his mother. Y/N was wondering why Steve hadn’t taken to sketching any of the girls in the dancing troop he’d been traveling with.

“You ever do any sketches of…” Y/N was about to tease him and ask about drawing her. But her words died out when she flipped to two pages of portraits. 

Both were of her.

She was in some form of Steve’s clothes in both of them. A ill-fitting shirt falling off her shoulder in one, pants bunching at her ankles in another.

“You weren’t ever supposed to see those…” Steve mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and lowering his head so she couldn’t see his blush.

“I’m flattered,” Y/N admitted. She took in all the details. “You made me rather beautiful, though.”

Steve scoffed without meaning to. “I only drew you how you are.”

It was Y/N who was blushing now.

Yes, in the present, where she was together with Steve, he told Y/N all the time how beautiful he found her.

But for some reason, hearing it from innocent, sweet Steve Rogers was different. He held no feelings for her and, as far as he knew, he never had a chance with Y/N. But that didn’t stop him from letting her know that she was indeed a beautiful woman.

Y/N flipped back to a drawing of Peggy. “You should tell her how you feel.”

“She doesn’t – I’m not – don’t be ridiculous, Y/N.” Steve fumbled around with his words.

No matter how long he knew Y/N, her direct way of speaking still caught him off guard every so often. The only times Y/N did not speak her mind clearly was when she could not tell Steve hints and secrets of the future.

“She does. Don’t be an idiot, Steve.” Y/N looked around. “You’re in the middle of a war. You need to make sure you find something worth fighting for.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked gently.

“I’m not fighting a war. At least… not yet.” Her eyes glazed over at the thought.

“That’s not what I meant.” Then he shifted his weight, trying to decide if he should say what he wanted to. “I meant… is there someone back where you’re from – uh – telling you – telling you that you’re beautiful.”

Y/N smirked at Steve’s awkwardness. He’d lost so much of it after all of his hardships. He’d gained so much more confidence; he was more self-assured now.

“I do,” she admitted softly.

She was going to make another joke about him drawing her, but the words got caught in her throat when she flipped to the next page.

Bucky.

Bucky standing with his crisp and clean and brand new military uniform. Hat tilted a little sideways. And that famous Bucky Barnes smirk on his lips.

Y/N’s fingers traced over the lines without even realizing it.

“He’s missing,” she blurted out.

“What?”

Her eyes shot up to him. “You’re going to find out in a few minutes. This is the 107th – or what’s left of it, I guess.”

“Y/N, you never tell – what are you saying? Bucky – is he – is he dead?”

“No, he’s alive. A prisoner of war, but alive.”

“You’ve never told me something like that before,” Steve said slowly, clearly still trying to process the news.

“Sometimes I get sick of fighting time,” Y/N sighed.

“I have to go after him,” Steve’s shoulders straightened and he was handling a surge of determination.

Y/N smiled, “Yes, you do.”

Then fear filled his gaze, “I know you can’t - or you won’t – tell me…but is he – will he be OK?”

Y/N stared into his eyes for a moment. “Yes, he will be fine.”

‘For now…’ she added in her mind.

Steve was surprised she continued to tell him of the future.

Y/N looked over her shoulder as if she could see something. But when Steve followed her gaze, not even his super-soldier sight spotted anything.

“I have to run before she finds you,” Y/N told him. “When it comes to her, you’re a terrible liar. And I don’t want you to have to explain how a naked, American woman got onto this base, completely undetected.”

Steve shot to his feet. “You’re leaving already.”

“I’m sorry, Steve. But you’ve got to go save Bucky and then you gotta get the girl.”

Then she quickly kissed him on the cheek, instantly making him go red.

He made a step for her, not wanting her to leave already.

But she was already quickly turning back to him, accidentally bringing their faces far too close to be considered just friendly.  

“Try not to kiss Private Lorraine,” Y/N breathed, caught off guard by their closeness that could easily be seen as intimate.

Steve’s brow furrowed. But he couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking down to her lips quickly. “I-I don’t even know a Private Lorraine.”

“Well, you will. And you should stay away from her. You should stay away from all women like her, OK?”

He nodded, not wanting to disappoint her.

“It’ll make sense soon. I promise.”

Lo and behold, Peggy was the next woman in his life to surprise him and show up out of nowhere.

—————-

PRESENT - Wakanda

Y/N quickly walked down the halls of the royal palace. She could hear the two kings guards tailing her.

One of them cleared their throat, “Ms. Y/L/N, if it is Sergeant Barnes you are heading toward, he is actually in the training facility.”

Her brow furrowed. She was going to find Bucky, just like she always did when Steve was gone and she was lonely.

However, he was alone at his hut less and less it seemed.

Y/N would’ve been happy, proud that he was socializing himself with new people more and more frequently. But that didn’t seem to be his motivation.

She didn’t want to jump to any ridiculous conclusions, but she started to feel like Bucky didn’t want to be alone with her.

Even when he had asked for him to teach her self-defense, Bucky insisted that they also enlist some of the Dora Milaje. He said it would help since he only had one arm and he didn’t want her education to suffer because of it. But Y/N knew Bucky could take down Steve with a single arm if he so wished, therefore it felt like weak reasoning.

Y/N had been in Wakanda for a year now and she’d found a routine in her life.

She no longer felt like a foreigner, but a proper member of Wakandan society – despite the fact that she lived in a royal palace.

Steve would need to leave to meet up with the team every so often, but he always tried his best not to return as quickly as possible.

Y/N still had nightmares of her kidnapping, her torture, her near death experience that she could only blame Hydra for. She was sick of hating her time traveling affliction.

When Steve asked her if she was having them when he was away, Y/N always lied. What good would it do either of them for him to worry and feel guilty about being away?

The nightmares were one of the main reasons she finally asked Bucky to teach her self-defense.

Y/N would’ve asked Steve, but she didn’t want to make him stay in captain mode any longer than he already did. He also was almost too patient with her. She needed to be pushed.

When Y/N walked into the gym, Bucky was doing one-armed pushups.

He had no shirt on and there was just a pair of black shorts and sneakers – which Shuri most definitely designed – covering his body.

Wakandan hip-hop was playing on the speakers, which was why Y/N didn’t recognize it. Shuri had taken it upon herself to help Y/N teach Bucky anything and everything pop culture.

The kings guards left Y/N to it. Whenever she was with Bucky, they didn’t see the need to linger. He would protect her.

Bucky heard their arrival and his head snapped up.

He quickly jumped to his feet when he spotted Y/N and gave a small nod of acknowledgement to her guards.

Y/N tried not to stare at Bucky’s ridiculously muscular and sweaty chest. She did. But it was damn near impossible.

His and Steve’s bodies were ridiculous. God-like is what most women would confess.

Furthermore, Y/N got to see how Steve put his to use… in ways no one else knew about.

“You wanna keep rubbing it in my face that you can do hundreds of pushups with one arm while I can’t even do 5 with both of mine?” Y/N greeted him.

Bucky chuckled, and Y/N swore she made him blush. Or maybe that was just from working out.

“You just gotta work at it, kid. I’ve got the advantage of a super-soldier serum.”

There it was again. That nickname. When he said it, Y/N realized he hadn’t used it in quite some time.

But Y/N pushed the thought out of her head and rolled her eyes teasingly.

“Yeah, I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to still do all of those without it.”

As soon as her feet stepped onto the padded flooring Bucky was waiting on, he kicked Y/N’s legs out from underneath her.

He did it so smoothly and quickly that Y/N could’ve blinked and missed it. The only proof being that she was now laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her head was aching from hitting the ground hard. 

“Bucky! What the actual fuck!” She screamed.

He tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Last lesson, I told you that you needed to learn to always be prepared. Most attacks are going to be a surprise. If you don’t train your body to always be ready, all the other stuff is pointless.”

Y/N glared at him. “Way to build trust...” But then she quickly rolled back to her feet.

Without really thinking her plan through, Y/N lunged for him. She meant it to distract him from her actual intentions, which were to knee him right in the balls. 

Payback is payback.

But Bucky easily deflected all efforts. And he absolutely knew what she was trying to do.

“Ya trying to play dirty?” He asked with a smile.

“Just trying to get even,” Y/N snapped.

She knew she wasn’t going to get any damn hit in. She was a civilian jousting with the Winter Soldier. She didn’t stand a chance.

But Y/N did know is that Bucky wouldn’t ever hurt her. In fact, he would put himself in harms way to make sure that didn’t happen.

So, Y/N decided to use that to her advantage.

If she wanted to take him down, she had to go down with him.

Y/N lunged for him at a weird angle, hoping her own weight combined with gravity would be enough to drag him down with her.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly as he realized Y/N’s body was about to hit the ground hard and quick, and at an angle that would easily dislocate her shoulder. 

He shifted his weight so his back hit the ground and he took all of the blow, Y/N having his body as a cushion to land on.

“You OK?” He asked hurriedly. Even though there was no way she could’ve harmed herself.

Y/N nodded and smiled mischievously. “Had to figure out a way to bring you down…”

Then Bucky snapped back to reality.

He was laying on his back with Y/N laying on top of him. Her chest pressed against his. Her hands were spread across his bare chest, able to feel his skin. Her warmth was enveloping him. When did his grip on her go so low on her hips? He could feel her heartbeat, and then he felt it quicken when a silence settled between them and they realized how unsuitably close they were.

But swore he didn’t mean. He tried with all of his might not to take a glimpse at her lips. But his eyes were no longer in his control.

Now he was panicked.

He quickly ushered her off of him, almost being rough about it.

Y/N misread his panic as irritation with her.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “Did I hurt you?”

Of course she didn’t hurt him.

“I’m fine,” Bucky mumbled without looking at her.

Y/N was finally able to acknowledge that something was off between the two of them, and it had been for awhile. She wasn’t sure if she could put her finger on when it started, but it felt like it had been since she showed up at his doorstep after seeing him bleeding out in the snow. She’d killed a Hydra agent that day trying to protect him.

“You don’t call me ‘kid’ anymore,” she accused him.

Bucky’s brow creased as he finally looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean, you did earlier. But that was the first time in months.” Then she gestured at the giant and empty training facility. “This is the first time we’ve actually been alone in months too. What’s going on, Bucky? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he muttered swiftly.

“Then what is it? Because something is – it’s off. We’re off.”

But Bucky just stared into her gaze.

He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t explain what he was going through.

He couldn’t tell her that he was trying to keep his distance, trying to prove to his best friend that he wasn’t trying to steal his girl. But he couldn’t stay away from her either. He couldn’t leave her be when both of them were so alone here.

Bucky couldn’t tell her he was in love with her.

What would be the point?

The two kings guards returned. “Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Yeah,” she muttered without breaking her stare down with Bucky.

“Captain Rogers just landed. We thought you may wish to know.”

Y/N finally blinked and turned to them, “Thank you.” Then she turned and promptly left without saying another word to Bucky.

As soon as he was alone, Bucky rubbed his face and paced. “What the hell are you thinking, Bucky?” He whispered to himself.

------------------------

Chapter 25

It only took me 2+ months, guys!  Please, please, please let me know how you feel and what you think. ❤️

[lambourngb]

If I woke up next to you & new face of failure

both of these are LYW stories, “If I woke up next to you” is the sequel that deals with some elements of season 2 along with a challenge to their relationship...

Alex awoke later, feeling the disorientation of sleeping too long and the grumble of his stomach letting him know that he skipped past the threshold of a pre-dinner nap and into the welcoming embrace of full night. He blinked in the darkness, the bedside alarm clock bright enough to shine the time up on the ceiling. Close to ten o’clock. Rolling backward, he felt the alien-hot presence of Michael, asleep inches away from him.

The brief touch of skin stirred Michael’s resting weight next to him, prompting his arm to snake forward and wrap firmly around Alex’s waist to tug him closer, with a reflexive sleepy kiss on his ear while he continued to snore lightly. 

Gently, Alex drew his fingertips down Michael’s arm, until he found the strong bones of his hands, possessively resting on his chest. There was a brief flash of earlier, that damn picture, as he rubbed his thumb over the fine bones of Michael’s wrist. Should he be ashamed that he wanted to wrap his hands over Michael’s pulse-points, holding them firmly in his palm, branding Michael with his grasp, as if he could overwrite the memory?

In his sleep, Michael made a soft questing noise in his throat at the touch before sighing in boneless surrender as Alex gave in and gripped his wrist more firmly. Still mostly asleep, Michael shifted again under the sheets, making it clear as he closed each gap between them, that he was bare. Between that hotter body temperature and the frequent tossing and turning in bed, it made sleepwear short-lived for both of them even for a brief nap. 

Alex pressed backwards again, more deliberately, feeling Michael’s slowly waking erection firm between his cheeks.  Fever hot skin against skin with just the slide of damp sweat easing the way. The scent of rain wafted off of Michael, filling his lungs, covering the back of Alex’s tongue and more, filling his senses with its familiar weight of home. He half-wished to coax Michael into full consciousness for the food that his stomach growled for lightly, and half-wished for satiating an altogether different hunger. 

He felt adrift now, the spectre of the past taking up space between them in a way that hadn’t happened in such a long time. He felt that old hunger of emptiness inside him, and with it came that need to feel Michael fill those scratched open ravines in his heart, where those years of feeling unloved at home as a child and later a young man, had worn into him deeply like the snow melt did against a mountainside. 

The handprint was out of the question, but there were other options.

**** new face of failure -- this is Michael’s POV of chapter 12- the Caulfield reveal ---CW: for Caulfield, torture, Michael getting ill

Blackness edged in, embroidering around his vision in a narrowing frame as he watched helplessly, before the nausea of what they were doing to her hit him, so suddenly he barely made it to the wastepaper basket under the desk. He retched, his whole body rejecting everything in the moment. Harsh gasps for air ripped from his throat, as he was sick over and over again in the small waste paper trash can until there was nothing left in him. 

Nothing. They treated his mother like she was nothing, but a thing for amusement. For seventy years. As soon as that thought hit, Michael’s lungs locked in place. He was being dragged downward with a sinking swiftness, buried in the mire like an anchor to the shoreline. With a shaking hand, he groped for the mouse to pause the video, before he placed his head down between his knees. In and out, he counted his breaths as he worked through the panic attack that he belatedly recognized.

In and hold for four counts. 

Living with Alex at least gave him these tools to know what to do now. 

Out and hold, count to four. 

Not long after he had moved in, Alex had had a flashback to something while Michael was driving, triggered likely by some blowing trash on the side of the road. He had nearly wrecked the truck trying to figure out what to do and had sat helpless next to Alex, watching as he fought to breathe and counted almost soundlessly under his breath before finally muttering a “I’m fine, you can keep driving,” with his voice thready and ashamed about the incident. Not right then, but hours later they had a fight when Alex had started to downplay what had happened under Michael’s insistence on teaching him what to do next time. 

He remembered wanting to shake Alex, the panic at being caught so flat-footed rushing in his veins, lending his voice an edge that he didn’t mean, “Tell me what I can do to help you — other than not touch you when it happens and keeping the floor clear of tripping hazards, cause that’s the bare fucking minimum that anyone can do. So, there’s got to be something more I can do-”

“Guerin, it’s fine, I can handle it. Besides, there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening-”

“I know that. And I know you don’t like relying on anyone but yourself, but-” It took a moment before the right leverage came to Michael. “What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I sat around with my thumb up my ass while you were hurting? I’m sure Agent Rollins would find that interesting.” Then he went in for the kill, “Tell me how to support you if- when- you have an episode because it’s something I should know if I’m going to play this role in your life.”

Out maneuvered, Alex had agreed and had reluctantly in a soft voice explained to Michael the ins and outs of panic attacks, and overcoming the psychological messaging with controlled breathing, the check-ins about sight, smell, taste, feel, and sound to help ground him. Michael had never thought he would be using that information for himself, but then he never imagined Alex had documentation of his mother’s torture.

Sight, he could hear Alex’s voice instruct from memory. Michael reluctantly opened his eyes and then had to flinch away from the monitor to focus on something different. There was a stack of hard drives on the desk. Innocuous and something Michael had dismissed as ‘Alex’s work’ but clearly it wasn’t. 

Smell. He could smell his sick, still in the trash can at his feet. Numbly, Michael got up and carried the mess back up the stairs, using the ‘feel’ of the plastic bin to ground himself in the cabin. The stairs creaked under his weight. Sound. Then vaguely he heard a chime, then a louder alarm start to bleat in the quiet house as he returned the bin to the bunker. He didn’t remember washing it out at all, but it was clean now. Finally, taste registered as he took his seat back in front of the paused monitor.

Bitterness flooded his mouth, and not just from the rise of bile. There was no way around the knowledge that Alex had actively hidden this from him.

[burlesque-articulation]

Alright, I pulled out my corkboard and red string again, this time in hopes of dissecting the MAG timeline to see if there is anything there to support my fan theory of:

~Could Jurgen Leitner be Martin’s Dad~

And so far, signs point to a solid "it could be possible”. So in lieu of this, I will be presenting all my evidence with exceptional bias so it better illustrates my desired outcome. Okay? Okay! Let’s get into it.

Let’s begin with 1985, when Jurgen Leitner supposedly begins renting an office in Pall Mall, central London. Presumably this is just where he sets up an office, and not the actual location of the Library, which isn’t something we get-- anyways, getting sidetracked, uhhh.

Right, we know, vaguely, that Martin was born in 1987, two years after Leitner would have set up shop in Central London; and interestingly enough, in that same year of Martin’s birth, Leitner attempted to hire some people to dig a big ol’ hole in the floor of his office to lead into the tunnels built beneath the building. And this could just be wishful thinking, but I believe it is implied that these tunnels connect to the other tunnels of Millbank Prison. Interconnected, and with many exits leading to various parts of the city. Basically, a needlessly intricate means of escape (I guess balconies and back doors just didn’t exist yet, you know) should shit get real. Anyways, the point I’m trying to make, is that it would make sense for Leitner to suddenly be very interested in having direct access to these tunnels from his main office after receiving news that he’s a father, or whatever. Or maybe it’s just because he’s always been a loser that loves vibing in tunnels.

[Obligatory readmore, because this shit gets long, and even more ramble-y. Also I’m not sorry, because y’all are more than welcome to continue scrolling past this mess]

Alright, now fast-forward to 1994, the destruction of the Library. At this point in time, Martin would have been 7. Now hold up! According to the Magnus Archives Wiki, Martin’s father abandoned the family when he was 8 or 9; so isn’t that a whole in the theory right there? No. It’s not. Because the only thing that is implied about Leitner around 1994, is that he went into hiding after the destruction of the Library. At no point is it implied that he even left the country (or even London, but like, I refuse to believe he’s that stupid; even if that alternative is hilarious). To set up my point, I’m going to shift the focus onto Martin now, and what his life might have been like when he was younger.

So, by present events (present actually referring to like, pre-season 4, actually), Martin’s mother is in a care home in Devon. Could be because care homes are cheaper there, or something, I have no idea. Honestly people in my family don’t live long enough to ever even consider this option, so I don’t know how assisted living works at all lmao. But let’s say, for simplicities sake, that Martin actually just grew up around Devon; and I’m throwing a dart at a map and declaring Plymouth as the city he grew up in. Anyways, why does this matter? Because I do in fact believe that Leitner is stupid enough to think that changing which county he lives in counts as being in hiding. And he gets maybe one (1) good summer with his family before the weight of his sins bare down on him, and he realizes that staying in one place really isn’t an option. So maybe he tries travelling around a bit; but inevitably he always ends up coming back to Plymouth. It takes him a year, maybe two, to finally realize that this won’t work forever. His habits are too predictable, and what’s this? The mother of his child is getting sick; and her condition only seems to worsen over time (you know, like how it usually works when someone is taken ill.); and Leitner gets it into his head that he could be the cause of it; so what is the safest course of action, but to completely abandon his family? Surely things will turn out for the better for them all if he were to just... disappear. To cut ties entirely, so as to make sure no one ever comes after them in an attempt to get to him.

And that worked out fucking great, didn’t it.

Bunch of unimportant stuff happens, and eventually Martin ends up dropping out of school, presumably only a year early from graduation (weird but fine); and it’s safe to assume he eventually ends up traveling to London in hopes of better job opportunities. Plus, if he’s gonna be lying on his CV, probably better to head out of county to some place where no one knows him from anywhere to begin with, right? That makes sense, and none of you can say otherwise.

And where does he find himself sliding into a new job position? Oh, that’s right; at the Magnus Institute. In the Library. I’m just saying. I am just saying, that’s a little interesting. I mean, he lied about having a degree in parapsychology on his CV; so if Bouchard really wanted to play along like he thought the CV was entirely legit, it actually would’ve made more sense to put him in Research, or even in Artefact Storage with a degree like that. But nope, Bouchard put him in the Library. Though, I guess we don’t know exactly what all might’ve been on Martin’s faked CV. But I swear to god, if we get bonus content that’s just Martin’s faked CV and it even hints at him working at a “family library/bookshop” I will spontaneously combust.

Regardless, in 2009, supposedly (according to the wiki), Martin began working at the Institute. Personally, I always thought he started working there in 2010, but that doesn’t matter. I actually like 2009 better, because then a year later, Leitner apparently begins working with Gertrude Robinson. Which I find interesting. I mean, really there’s no reason for them not to work together, I just find the timing of it interesting. Of course, Leitner (in MAG80) alludes to the fact that Gertrude was likely only working with him because there was a lack of anyone else around. But that really only explains Gertrude’s interest in Leitner. What attracted Leitner to the Magnus Institute in the first place, I wonder? Aside from the fact that it’s essentially the Library of Alexandria of research on the Entities. 

But Leitner had managed to stay out of public eye for about 16 years, why would he chose right around then to start playing peekaboo with the Beholding? Rhetorical question, of course. Y’all should already know exactly where I’m going with this line of questioning. Martin. Martin is what lead Leitner to the Institute, and to Gertrude. Dude just wanted to check up on his son, and now he’s just as trapped as everyone who works for the damn Institute because of all these weird rituals and shit. Plus maybe there was another reason why Leitner went through so much effort to help Gertrude, even putting himself on the line for it; and I think we can all agree that Leitner is a pretty selfish dude who’s only real character trait is being like a fucking cockroach. Straight up, the only way to kill a cockroach is to beat those suckers until they pop like a fucking pimple-- sorry, I’m actually getting ahead of myself, I don’t want to talk about that yet, um.

Leitner’s biggest character trait, and on some level, character flaw, is his Self-Preservation instinct. When the going gets tough, his own health and safety comes first. But maybe he gets a bit sentimental in his old age, and maybe he struck a deal with Gertrude; if he helps her stop the Unknowing, (or actually I think it would’ve been the Dark’s ritual first), she will bring his son down to the tunnels so Leitner can see how he’s grown, and maybe even talk to him. I just think that would be interesting character motivation; because at the end of the day, it’s still a pretty selfish motivation. But at this point, Gertrude’s only other option for help is a teenaged Shadow the Hedgehog wannabe; so she’d likely agree to just about anything for the extra pair of hands. And given what later happens in regards to the Dark’s ritual, which then results in Gertrude’s death; Leitner gets scared back into his hole in the ground.

But hey, I guess things actually kind of worked out for ol’ Jurgen. Because like a year later, his son* (*allegedly, according to apparently no one but me) starts living in the Archives. It’s like he’s living in his son’s basement, he can just pop up for tea and say hi whenever. Maybe complain about all the bugs that keep crawling around. Or not, because Jürgen Leitner is a coward. But I 100% would not put it past him to shuffle his old bones up into the Archives to stand creepily at the edge of wherever Martin was sleeping and angst quietly at the sight of his son. It’s creepy, funny, and sad. Basically a peak TMA scenario right there.

Then Leitner gets brutally piped by Bouchard. Actually, can I say it like that? “Piped” isn’t some kind of... new-age slang for something, is it? God, I hope not. Anyways; Leitner isn’t just beat upside the head with a length of pipe, but literally pulped by Bouchard (or at the very least implied so), in a way that makes identifying the guy difficult enough that he remains a John Doe straight up until Elias confesses to the murder. Now, obviously there are plenty of reasons for this; given that both Daisy and Basira are familiar with the name Leitner, so presumably other sectioned officers would be as well; so there was at least a slim chance that whatever officer got sent to the Institute upon the discovery of the body might just recognize Leitner immediately. But, and sorry to sidetrack here, but there was just one thing that really stood out to me about Martin. One thing that always stuck with me, that for some reason was the main thing that made me thing Leitner could’ve been his dad.

Martin looks like his father, whoever that may or may not be. It is explicitly canon, that Martin looks like whoever his dad is. So wouldn’t it be better safe than sorry for Bouchard to beat Leitner to a pulp wherein no one could easily discern any major features of him once he was found. After all, it would make things rather messy and a bit too complicated if everyone who saw the body was like, “wow! That looks just like you, Martin.” So really, it’s for the best that not only did Bouchard kill Leitner, but he thoroughly did so. 

And so, I will end this already way to long of a ramble with the one thing that solidified me on this theory, and Spoilers for Season 5 of MAG, but... In MAG181 Salesa says, “Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his younger days of course.” to Martin. Of course, Martin did just shoot out a snappy one-liner about books, but... it’s the clarification of Jurgen “in his younger days”, that gets me. Mikaele could just have easily said something about Martin just “sounding” like Leitner. But the way this reads, and how it’s spoken, even, it seems more like someone that might’ve been looking at Martin for awhile, squinting at him as if he’s seen that face somewhere before, and then right when Martin mentions books, it finally clicks. After all, it would’ve been almost 20 years, or possibly more, since Salesa would have left Leitner’s employ.

So yeah, I admit this theory has a much weaker backbone then my Banks/Folger post, but... I just think it’s neat. And it’s another one of those things that actually doesn’t have any affect on the major plot whatsoever. I dunno, maybe it was meant to be some sort of subplot early on that got ditched or something? Point is, that’s all for now, and with any luck, I will never post another crack theory again, and the TMA tag can be safe from my ramblings once more.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Try It On, Take It Off - Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

100 Sentence Challenge Request

Orson Krennic + 95 -  “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Requested by @mysticaltimemachinewench

Author’s Note: Roll with the idea of Halloween and October 31st being things in the Star Wars universe just for this fic, please! This boy is so whiny, I spent all week writing for him last week and he’s still like “write more!” so, I thought I’d post one. It’s because he’s all the bottom of my drafts now I’m sure of it. Boots & Boys - Kesha  Okay, so I was looking for songs to do with dressing up. And I found a bunch of cute love songs about wearing your SOs clothing, but... This one is fun and I needed fun for the premise-!

Disclaimer: Rogue One Characters/SW Universe not mine. / Requested  premise / lyrics & gifs not mine.

Premise: Every Halloween it’s the same thing, and Krennic is sick of people dressing like him. This year he’s determined to get to the bottom of things...

Words: 2010

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual connotations/Pre-Amble

_____

Think it's time that I mention I've got myself an obsession For the smell, for the touch I know I've got myself a habit But I gotta have it now I don't care where, work it out Let me break it down I try it on, I take it off So what you got? Something 'bout boots and boys They bring me so much joy I gotta say I wear 'em both so pretty as I walk in the city Give me boots and boys I'm keeping quite the collection Take nothing less than perfection My men drop beats like a bomb Wind me up, spin me round Oh, lookie what I found (ooh!) I'm crazy for you, crazy for you Hey hey, whatcha looking at? Hey hey, something you can't have They've got me looking rad You feeling that?

---

October 31st was always a date Krennic hated seeing in his calendar. The Death Star had not been a project spanning months by any stretch of the imagination. Orson was many, many years into this – and he was now accustomed to his workers Halloween traditions. He couldn’t say it wasn’t one of the reasons he was glad that it was nearing completion. That, and he might finally get the recognition he deserved. At least for now he had you. Given, you were relatively new to the project when he looked at the timeline as a whole, but you were certainly a necessary piece – and Krennic actually liked you. A lot of the other employees, if he were honest with himself, he actually could have done without. Which is probably why you’d grown close – and then maybe a little too close. But Orson wasn’t going back on that now. This was the day Krennic didn’t want to leave his office – inevitably, it was also the day that everyone would have him chasing all over the structure. Why? Oh, because they all knew how much he hated today too! So as soon as the email pinged in from the other side of the Death Star, Krennic tried everything he could to get them to come to him, or to send him documents, pictures, anything that meant he didn’t have to go on an annoyingly long walk. Orson used practically every persuasive trick in the book, to no avail. Eventually he had to concede rising from his desk, sighing angrily, and gathering his things to head to the problem. Almost immediately he was assaulted with the kind of visuals he’d become accustomed to. It seemed every other person on this damned vessel took today to dress up as him. Now, whilst dressing in the full white Intelligence Bureau tunic would have been against protocol and would have meant he could reprimand them, everyone decided to wear capes of various different colours instead. Some, like his, matched their uniforms – and if it wasn’t also for the fact they copied the way he walked and carried himself, with an unconvincing attempt at his accent and speech patterns, he’d find it quite tasteful. Krennic would almost be flattered, he supposed - perhaps even feel like a trend setter – had the crew not being doing it for any other reason than to mock him. God forbid any of them attempt Lexrulian; one day it was going to make his ears bleed. Others decided to wear their ‘capes’ in the gaudiest colours imaginable, and sometimes Orson felt like he was going to be physically ill just staring at them.

Still, technically all of this was against regulation – and although he probably couldn’t take on the entire staff and win, he took pleasure in chastising those he disliked most. “Isn’t that a little against your uniform regulation?” “Take that off now – before I have you reported.” “Next time I catch you in something like this, you’re off the project.” Annoyingly, he could never keep how irked he was out of his voice – and they took great joy out of that, and never bothered hiding it. When they did take these ridiculous attempts at mocking him off (Though it worked. He supposed.), Krennic knew they’d be pulled back on before he rounded the next corner – but for now at least, Orson could be smug in his little bit of power. The fact he could actually force the crew to remove them. He often pondered how this started. Tarkin, he had no doubt. Krennic wasn’t going to blame himself after all, he knew his uniform looked damn good. He just wasn’t fool enough to think this was respectful admiration. Eventually he reached the person who emailed him and, as predicted, it was an easy fix that Krennic could have done in less than five minutes on his tablet back in his office. The Director almost punished them on the spot for that, but by this time was already too pissed off with the situation to trust himself not to lose complete control. Not that that didn’t happen a lot, especially when everything was stalling – but today that was what everyone wanted. ‘If I see another bad attempt at ridiculing my uniform I’ll scream…’  Orson’s jaw was beginning to ache with the way he was tightening it. Half way back to his office, Krennic took a detour. By now he really was yelling at people – Orson was this close to drawing weapons and kicking them off the station, Project Stardust be damned. Desperately seeking respite, he wandered back to his quarters and as the corridors began to quieten, scuffled along in his boots, sulking. ‘What did I ever do to deserve this-!?’ Reaching the door to his room, Krennic gave a small smile – he would receive relief in here. Well at least she will be sweet... I can tell her my frustrations and she’ll sympathize… As Krennic keyed himself in and the door slid open, he realised just how wrong he could be. You were walking up and down the main room and studying yourself in about every reflective surface you could find. If this wasn’t you, Krennic would have blown it, and immediately all his irritations came flooding back. You were, of course – with access to his wardrobe - pacing around in his uniform. Full Intelligence white, rank bar included. Sure, the sleeves were rolled up – which pained him because it’d take an age to get those creases out - and the cape was a little long for you, but, you had the whole thing on, right down to the boots. Usually Krennic might smirk and call you out on wearing his clothes, after all you did look good in his tailored shirts. Any other day of the week he’d probably be pretty turned on right now. But NOT today. As the door slid closed behind him and beeped locked, you whirled around. The cape moved with you and your eyes fell to it; immediately distracted. Krennic’s uniform was gorgeous on him, but the feeling of power you got when wearing it for yourself was indescribable. You liked running your hands over it – the feeling of the fabric between your fingers very nearly bordering obsessive with your need to do it at every chance you could; it was so perfectly weighted that, in all honesty, the tailoring was a marvel to you. You always made a mental note to thank the designers and sewers for their impeccable work. (On Orson’s entire wardrobe, actually.) “Director.” You presented yourself and looked back to him, “What do you think?” Orson very nearly shivered, and if he wasn’t so pissed he’d probably have let himself. That was Lexrulian – and compared to everything else he’d heard today, was very nearly music to his ears. “What are you doing-!?” There was a snap in the undertone of his voice – agitated, to match the way his jaw tightened. You answered cheerily, nonetheless. “It’s Halloween. So, I’m you! I mean you could be me if you wanted, but I’m not sure the uniform would fit-!” You giggled slightly at the mental image of him in your tight black jacket – no, maybe it wouldn’t fit properly, but it might look really good. If only for a second. Although Krennic was glaring at you by now. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, is all this YOUR idea-!?” For a moment you looked innocent, “No! You mean the fact everyone else does it? I didn’t start it, but I felt I could damn well finish it. Besides, LOOK!, I can do it better than everyone else!” “No! No! Y/N-!” You scrambled up onto the table, and cleared your throat. It was clear to Krennic you’d been practicing, because you had his stance down and his mannerisms almost perfect. He was almost impressed. “The POWER we are dealing with here is immeasurable! Single reactor ignition would be just an inkling of it’s true destructive potential! And I will not fail!” He blinked slowly, thinking you were mixing up at least three of his previous conversations there. There was a long pause before Krennic stepped forward, pointing at you. “GET. DOWN! Do you have any idea how expensive that table was-!?” “Awwww, Orson, c’mon!!” “I’m NOT impressed, GET DOWN!” “Baaabe.” “Don’t whine..!” You backed up just out of his reach, even your best innocent eyes weren’t saving you today – he must have been furious. “But it took me so long, I’ve tried on all the variants, I tried on your dress uniform even-! And it isn’t complete without the cape, and the rain one doesn’t have a patch on the glory of this one!! I thought it wouldn’t drag if I put on my heeled boots, but that didn’t get the look right either! And it’s you – so, it had to be perfect…” Your eyes glittered gently as you tried to plead with him, “I thought if I did it properly, it might make you smile. That it might be more… respectful. I dunno I-” He cut you off, demanding, “OFF. THE. TABLE.” “Well, what are you gonna do-!?!” Krennic was quick on his feet, and even though you’d backed yourself up he still managed to grab your wrist and drag you down. You might have been in his uniform, but you were nowhere near his height; and you might have had his traits down, but you didn’t have his strength either. Meaning within seconds he had you shoved up against a wall – with a squeak – before his lips were on yours, wrists pinned by your sides. He might have been angry, but that only made this kiss hotter, and you practically melted into him. Orson was showing you absolutely no mercy – and you weren’t sure if you really deserved it, but you were at least a little glad of it. Eventually he pulled away from you; leaving you gasping and panting for breath. But you whined, wanting more from him. “Have I mentioned, I fucking hate Halloween.” Krennic had, many a time. Which is one of the reasons you wanted to do this, because he might feel a little better if you were doing it right. Clearly you were in the wrong ballpark. You thought about nodding in admittance, but thought maybe continuing to be playful would get you what you wanted. “Don’t think you did – maybe you did. You should remind me.” “Oh, I think I will.” His smirk was back as you let him run his hands through the fastenings of the tunic and unzip your pants. Oh, yeah, he wanted this uniform off bad. You bit your lip, “It does look sexy on you though, is it surprising everyone wants to copy it? I mean I like trying it on and taking it off.” Orson nipped your neck, eliciting a gasp from you; “Evidently I might too.” Then he chuckled at your sigh, running his hands over your warm skin, “That doesn’t make me hate today any less. I mean it’s hardly tribute, is it?” You tipped your head, “I mean, I tried.” “Oh, don’t think I didn’t hear that mocking tone.” He grazed his lips to yours, and it was hardly rewarding, you pined for more but he held you away from him – still immobilized against the wall, “Still, I’ll admit so much… you do look very pretty in white.” You did very nearly blush, but knew that his mind wouldn’t be going to something as virtuous as weddings or dresses; probably a different kind of white lace altogether. “Can I keep the cape at least?” Maybe he’d enjoy you wearing that and very little else. That would be like a ‘sexy’ Halloween costume, would it not? Even if it was just for him. Maybe that’s what Krennic needed if he detested today so much. He growled, kissing you again before you let him slide the jacket from your shoulders and it fell to the floor; “If you’re good, we’ll see.”

--- Thank you very much for reading! It’s been a while since Krennic has been posted too, I’ll admit! 🙏❤

2/16 down!

[long-cosmos-overhead]

I have a request for you 😊 it's a bit big so it's totally fine if you don't want to do it, but would you maybe make a preference with Maze Runner Newt, The Leto Joker, the 10th Doctor and Edward Nygma (pre riddler bcs hes a cutiepie) with Reader developing first symtoms of an eating disorder? They feel bad after eating something and get panicked when they gain weight and barely eat anything at some days

Of course if you need someone to talk to I’m here x

(I do not own these characters or their movies/shows/ gif not mine)

⚠️ if you are experiencing or sensitive to the issue of eating disorders please don’t read ⚠️

Newt

He doesn’t notice right away there’s a lot going on in the glade which makes it hard to focus and for the first day he rules it as a one off however he makes a mental note to make sure you’re not getting sick

Newt gets more panicky as you spiral out of control he’s had his own demons and then he got you the most beautiful, sweet woman that made him feel like the luckiest shank on the planet and now he was slowly losing you

Things got so much worse and Newt stayed up so late pleading you to eat just a small bite, he worked your shifts in the garden and told you every breathing minute of the day that you were beautiful and you didn’t need to do this when confronted about your problem by other gladers he’d break down and cry whimpering about how he couldn’t lose you

No matter how tough things got Newt was always there every night he’d hold you close weaving his fingers through your hair and telling you how much you meant to him, long hugs and comforting kisses were given when you really couldn’t manage and Newt went so far as to get all the gladers to be nice and make no mention of your appearance. This boy loved you so much

When you started getting better Newt was over the moon you could see in his eyes he was so proud and happy when you finished an amount of food no matter how small Newt would be all over you kisses, cuddles and praise he remembered seeing you one day, you were still rather thin and washed out but you were better and he cried of happiness he was so proud of you

Joker

He notices immediately. He sits you down and tells you he knows there’s something wrong and wants to hear from you what it is he doesn’t let you leave until he’s heard what he wants to hear but he’s not menacing about it he’s rather gentle yet firm purring instead of growling trying to sweet talk it out of you

He may seem angry once he finds out about your relationship with food but it is now way directed at you he’s rightly pissed at anyone who you ever compared yourself to but mostly he’s mad at himself for not being able to keep you safe from the one thing that took his sanity and no matter how highly he thought of himself he didn’t want you to turn out like him

He fires every female assistant, worker, cleaner you name it she’s gone and trips to the bar or strip clubs are out of question, J even goes as far as to throw out magazines and newspapers he just wants to keep you safe and more importantly happy

This however doesn’t mean he’s going to let you get away with everything he’d downright force you to eat keeping you gripped in his lap or his arms until you ate it isn’t the best but force is the only way he knows. There’s been tears, relapses and fired therapists but his love for you never dwindled he found a one in a billion connection he will not give you up

J acts like an excited puppy when you get better and start to eat as you usually did he gives you deep meaningful rewards: passionate kisses, tight hugs, long cuddles, stolen expensive items. He’s so proud he brags how strong you are to frost and let’s you know you’re stunning beyond compare every day

10th Doctor

He notices quite early on you’re eating habits have changed and you’re becoming rather sickly looking, at first he things you’re ill so he drags you around running a full body test on you only to get very confused when you’re clear of sickness now he’s worried, what’s wrong with you?

The Doctor gets very distraught upon hearing you’re struggling with your body he doesn’t understand you’re like a supernova to him what’s to be ashamed of, he doesn’t know how to help but he digs deep and finds all he needs to know about what’s going on and becomes more or less your personal therapist

He puts adventures on hold for a while worried you’re get too sick to go on and he’ll lose you if you keep pushing yourself. Doctor brings back many exotic nutritious foods for you to eat in small chunks and you best believe he turns to cuddly mush around you the sweetest purest declarations of love you’d ever hear were made in the moments you needed it most even if you tried to conceal it

He does get a little overprotective especially if he feels you’re in danger or considerably weak and if you have fainting spells he’s a mess you’ll wake up being cradled by a worried sick doctor he doesn’t care what he’s doing he’ll always catch you and take you straight to bed with him in case you get worse he holds you through relapses, tears, anger the lot rubbing soothing circles on your back and many hugs which involve him lifting you off the floor and clinging to you

He takes you to the most beautiful places he knows as encouragement when you’re down or as a treat after you’ve tried your best he never forces you to eat but he’s strict about getting enough to keep you going, he won’t lose you. Don’t doubt whenever you feel especially down that day that the doctor won’t give an entire lecture on how he loves you the doctor needs you by his side

Edward Nygma

Ed knows something’s wrong long before you really realise it yourself he’s a very perspective man usually a mystery sets him off but with you involved in something like this makes him anxious and skittish he’s confused as to why you feel this way he knows the science behind it but you’re perfect in his eyes he wishes you could feel the same

He’d get more and more anxious as time went on and you gradually got worse you were usually happy and bubbly but now you were tired and weakened seeing you vulnerable made his instincts to protect you kick in and he tried his hardest to shield you from anyone giving you a hard time

He’s be logical on getting you to eat cooking meals himself that were highly nutritious and healthy in small portions so you weren’t daunted by them or he’d pick you up some small snack. Edward would help you eat on days where you felt you really couldn’t patting your back and sitting with you as long as you took to be able to finish a suitable amount

He’ll throw in a few riddles when you ask him what’s for dinner or you’re getting really nervous at the thought of food, it’s a little brain game he designed to distract you from getting too overwhelmed and leading to a panic attack some of his riddles went so far you didn’t even end up thinking of food in the end istead begging him to tell you how he came up with it

Edward is so supportive and kind towards you each mini victory was celebrated with something nice like a lazy day in bed or a cute little thing he devised there’s no limit to how far Ed would go to keep you happy your smile, your body language, the way you begged for the answer to his riddles made him fall head over heels for you and he’d give you the world if it meant you were happy

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #340

“wash the poison from off my skin  /  show me how to be whole again”

What is one thing that you took to show and tell as a kid? I have this oddly specific memory of bringing my little Snorlax plushie for one in pre-k. I remember thinking everyone thought I was weird for liking Pokemon as a girl. Do you remember losing your first tooth? I don't. Have you ever been addicted to a game? What game? I think I was addicted to World of Warcraft at a point, but it's honestly hard to tell. My depression was just so abysmal that it was the one thing I got even a smidge of not even joy, but active distraction out of because the options of what you can do in the game are essentially limitless. Are you afraid to pop a balloon? Not really, but it does make me jump because I don't like loud noises. Name one person you’d like to see this month. Bitch we fighting Covid, stay away from me. When was the last time you laughed when you shouldn’t have? I don’t know. Which was better: the first The Lion King or the second? They're nearly tied, honestly, but I prefer the original. Do any of your grandparents have a tattoo? I KNOW my maternal grandmother didn't, and I don't believe any other grandparent did, either. When was the last time you had a bubble bath? Not since I was a kid. What do you usually buy when you go to the corner store? You mean like, a gas station or dollar store? Something small like that? In that case, I'll usually look for a Mountain Dew Voltage sometimes along with something Reese's-related. Do you believe that your pets feel love towards you? My cat, absofuckinglutely. He so obviously loves me. I know my snake doesn't though, considering reptilian brains just physically aren't capable of creating that emotion. She does, however, obviously trust me and definitely seems to enjoy coming out of her terrarium and thus hanging out by me. Bubbles or sidewalk chalk? I loved drawing with chalk, but I like bubbles more. I just love how they catch light and have such beautiful colors to share. What do you use to tell time when your gone out somewhere? My phone. Are you proud of your body? FUCK no. I wish I still was, goddammit. I used to be so fit, and it's funny, because even back then at like, 118 lbs at 5'4'', I thought I was kinda chubby. Like bitch shut the fuck up. Watermelon or cherries? I honestly don't like either, but I'll definitely pick watermelon over cherries. They're disgusting. What is your all-time favourite song? "False Flags" by Massive Attack. Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character? Biiiiiitch guess lmao. I think everyone has, though. What is the band you’ve listened to most lately? Definitely 3TEETH. Love 'em. Favourite brand of cookies? Hm, good question. They've gotta be good at making SOFT chocolate chip cookies, though. I don't enjoy crunchy cookies nearly as much. If you could meet anyone who lived before your time, who would it be? I don't really know. Oh, y'know, chatting with Edgar Allan Poe would probably be cool. Do you pay for your own things? I literally can't. It's embarrassing. Have you ever been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance? No. What is one thing you’d never want your parents to find out? Certain sexual things I've done, probably. When you were little, did you like Dr. Suess books? Of course. Have you ever felt trapped in a relationship? I felt that way in my friendship with Colleen, but no romantic relationships. What would you consider unforgivable? Rape. Like no, go to hell. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Pre-Covid, yeah. What do you dislike the most about being the gender that you are? Probably how heavily judged women are for having ANYTHING "wrong" with their appearance. You could be five pounds over what is "normal" for your height and you're seen as fat. One strand of body hair, and you're disgusting. Bushy eyebrows, you're now manly. I could go on and on. Do you think that weed/marijuana should be legalized? Yes. Rate your typing speed on a scale from 1 - 10? 10. Do you enjoy tanning? Ugh, no. Just sitting there doing nothing but sweating. Have you ever written anybody an anonymous note? I have not. What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup. Have you ever laid in a hammock? Yeah; we used to have one. It was the best when we lived in the woods. Do you blow dry your hair or do you let it air out? I just let it air dry. Candles or incense? I prefer incense. Can you juggle? No. Your favorite vegetable? Broccoli. Do you catch lizards? No; I don't like terrifying wildlife. I'd much rather just take pictures of the little guys and let them go about their business. If we returned to a world without internet, what aspect of online life would you miss the most? YouTube, haha. It's more unique and personal entertainment than television, imo. Are you craving anything aside from food, and if so, what? I want a new piercinggggg. What was the last change you made to your lifestyle? I'm *trying* to get back into regularly making art, along with reading. I'm also really trying to implement drinking more water into my day. What was the last thing you gave up doing? *shrug* What was the last thing to boost your self-esteem? What sort of things typically make you feel good about yourself? It really, really helped to hear my PHP group enjoy my poem about gay rights so much. I was so terrified and did NOT want my therapist to share it, but it turned out being very beneficial. To answer the second question, it's pretty much stuff like I just mentioned: positive reactions to things I create. When it comes to food, do you prefer crunchy or softer textures? Definitely softer. Do you prefer savory or sweet things for breakfast? Hm. Depends on the day, ig. What is something small that you take extremely personally? I'm blanking. What was going on the last time you couldn’t sleep? I just... couldn't sleep. That's not rare for me. Have you drawn anything recently? I recently drew a picture of a still from Rammstein's "Mutter" music video, and I'm now working on Sara's 'kat Alucard. If you're going somewhere close by, do you walk? No. One simply does not walk in this town and not fear being shot. Do you prefer colorful notebooks over plain ones? I like colorful ones, particularly those with a nice pattern or something on it. What's your most ambitious goal? I'd consider wanting to be a successful freelance photographer to be rather ambitious. Do you know anyone named Alex? Well, knew, by this point. One of my closest online friends that just got a boyfriend and fell off the face of the planet when we used to talk every day. I'm still hurt about it, honestly. What's your favorite kind of pie? I don't like pie because of the crust being so, well... crusty and crumbly. Have you ever chatted someone up and scored a date? No. How far would you go with someone you just met? Not very far at all. All you're getting is a hug, if even that. What's your favorite meal to have for dinner? I mean, it depends on what I feel like having. I don't have a set favorite meal. What do you daydream about? The future, mostly. People I miss. Have you ever known someone online and then met them in person? If so, which website did you meet on? Yes, Sara. <3 We met via YouTube back when it had much more social connection. Have you ever been to the beach? Yeah, a good number of times. When was the last time you were sick and what illness did you have? I don't believe I've been ill in any sort of way since I had that ungodly ear infection a few years ago. Have you ever been kicked out of somewhere? Yeah, Colleen's house. Mom once tried kicking me out of the car one night otw home, but I didn't listen. Have you ever intentionally trolled? No. How many siblings do your parents have? Mom has two brothers and I think one sister, and Dad has one sister. Who last held your hand? My niece or nephew, dragging me somewhere, haha. Have you seen all the Lord of the Rings movies? No, not interested. What was the last thing you watched on YouTube? I'm watching John Wolfe's playthrough of Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs. It's so funny how like... every let's player I watch doesn't enjoy the game, like they miss the incredible symbolism and shy away from the advanced language, and sometimes it's just frustrating to watch them; I only do because I enjoy the game and want to see more people experience it and relive it vicariously. It's very high on my list of favorite games. What sport do you find yourself best at? I wouldn't know; I haven't played any sports in years. I was pretty good at softball as a kid, though. Do you think makeup on guys is freaky or sexy? My opinion shouldn't matter; a man can wear makeup whenever he damn well pleases without worrying what others think. But anyway, I tend to find it attractive, especially if it's goth makeup. Have you ever been accused of a crime you did not commit? No. Do you like pickles? I love dill pickles. What was the craziest moment of your life? Probably just lying in that hospital bed following my OD, my mom and two best friends just sitting there with me. It was such a weird, weird feeling. Like I was just so done, frustrated beyond what I can say. I remember thinking it was almost funny, just how it all built up and went wrong. Where do you spend most of your time? In my room on my bed. What is your favorite muffin? Chocolate chip. Would you ever get a boob job? I already know when/if I lose the weight I want to, it will be kind of a big deal to me and my atrocious body image to get a breast lift. Being overweight ~does things~ you know, and god knows I want every trace of it that can be erased gone. Would you ever go on a reality TV dating show? That's a massive "no" from me, buddy. Would you rather be inside or outside? It depends on where I am and the temperature outside, but generally, inside. Do you like the current president? Well, I voted for him, so I can't shit-talk much. I don't know the true depths of him as a person and all he stands for, though; when I decided I needed to vote, I just did some research on his core values. I don't have any complaints yet, from what I've seen at least, which isn't a lot. Do you whiten your teeth? I've used whitening strips before, but I don't now because they're not that effective. If it's financially plausible at some point in my life, teeth whitening is another thing I want to have medically done because of my previous horrible self-care. My teeth have a clear yellow tint and I hate it. Do you get cold easily? No; it's actually the opposite: I get hot easily. What was the worst sickness you ever had? Probably this one stomach bug I had where I just threw up relentlessly. Like eventually barely even bile would come up; it was just dry heaving. My stomach muscles were in agony. Was your childhood wasted by something? No, thankfully. Would you rather die during an adventure or die like a normal person? A normal person. The idea of having such a sudden death stresses me out for multiple reasons; I mostly don't want my family to just be suddenly devastated, and I honestly want to come to peace with the fact I was dying. Like, find my life's own closure instead of just having it ripped away. Have your parents ever tried to commit suicide? Jesus, I sure hope not. Do you have a gag reflex? A very strong one. Do you ever fantasize about trying drugs? I've wondered before what the effects of weed would be like for me, but "fantasize" is definitely the wrong word. Would you rather have sex before you’re married or wait till marriage? It'd be up to my partner, honestly, because I'm fine with either. What is the nastiest dare you have ever committed? I never did dares because I thought they were stupid. Like I'm not gonna do dumb shit just to show you I can. Do you know anyone who has been raped? I think I might? Have you ever asked someone for a tampon? Yeah. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? No. Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer. Do you prefer headphones or earbuds? Earbuds. Headphones are just big and clunky and in the way when you use a laptop in bed, plus they irritate my skin. I like how earbuds actually go in your ears for more direct hearing. Would you ever consider adopting a child with a severe mental illness? If I wanted children, no, because I don't think I'm capable to give a child like that adequate care, being so mentally ill myself. I wouldn't want to risk worsening their condition. Favorite thing to do with a significant other? Play games together, particularly cute multiplayer ones that are more about the experience of playing together versus getting past difficult obstacles and such. Like for example, one of my favorite memories with Jason is simply playing Little Big Planet together. Favorite ice cream topping? I don't like many toppings on my ice cream, but I do love melted hot fudge. First boyfriend/girlfriend’s name? Aaron. Do you support PETA? Considering they are incredibly self-righteous extremists, no. Do you believe in the Big Bang Theory? Well, I believe in some sort of "god" figure that created the universe, so I don't think so. A condensed ball of nothing exploding to create something so extravagant? It sounds pretty far-fetched to me. But then again, maybe that semblance of a "god" I believe in created the universe through that, idk. It doesn't really matter now, though, does it. What happened happened, I'm not very concerned with it. What insect can you not stand the site of? It's more so larvae that I can't stand the sight of, like maggots and stuff. They make me squirm. Do you like Doctor Who? I've only seen one or two episodes, so I can't say. Do you approve of gay marriage? Of course I do. I'm bisexual and would like to get married, so I might marry a woman. Are you into politics? I'm really not. Do you think the world is ending soon? Nah, even though it sure does feel like it sometimes. Ever been to a mosh pit? No, they don't seem very fun at all. Do you like to debate? NO. NO NO NO. Do you like the band System of a Down? Yeah, I do. Are you German? It's a big part of my heritage. Do your parents like your best friend? Yes. Who’s someone you can act your complete self around? Sara, 100%. She's the only person I feel entirely comfortable around when it comes to being myself. Do you believe in Friday the 13th? I don't believe in there being any supernatural power to it, no. Who is your favorite rapper? Eminem. What age is your youngest aunt? Uhhhh I have no idea. Do you like bowling? Sure, it's fun. Do you like roasting marshmallows on a bonfire? I do. What shows or characters scared you as a child? Ghostface from the Scream series was my worst fucking nightmare. I couldn't even see pictures of him without crying. The King Ramses guy from Courage the Cowardly Dog also gave me a number of nightmares. Something about the way he was animated was very unnatural and unnerving to me.