#Idek how I messed up so many times

[spot-conlons-pimp-cane]

You know you have a problem when you accidentally write “erster” in your English work💀

[slamminslamminmcgill]

mm finally watched deadpool and wolverine today, and my god... 🥵 so many thoughts...

Idek which ones to put here. What do you think a p*ss kink would look like with both of them? Or just more of them making reader squirt their brains out.

The dialogue you write between them sounds so natural. Like I can literally read it in their voice. -🐮

LFGGGG thank y’all for giving me an excuse to talk abt this 🙏 i got more ideas but this post would’ve been WAYYYY too long sooo be on the lookout for more debauchery

warning: piss, anal, dp, dubcon, light degradation/humiliation, intox (alcohol for logan)

anatomical terms: cunt/pussy

as with most of the fucked up kinks y'all try in this polycule, it happens spontaneously the first time.

logan had just finished inside your ass, and out of the three of you, it takes him the longest to cum. it also takes a lot out of him. he roars and jams his claws through wade's temples (whoopsie! that's why your bed has red vinyl sheets hehe) so there's a dramatic break in the action afterwards.

"ah... hah... ngh, fuck..." he's panting, heaving almost, and slides out of your now gaping hole, "fuck, that was good..." he retracts his claws from wade’s skull, then purrs in your ear and smooches your neck, "good job, kid."

wade, still hard as steel in your cunt, claps excitedly for him. "yay! good job, YOU, peanut! UGH, i love watching you fill him up. you get so... beastly~."

you giggle, nuzzling into wade's tits, feeling goofy and content. a warm load up one hole, and a thick cock up the other.

logan smiles, kissing you on the back of your head this time. “you gonna be okay alone with him for a sec? i gotta go piss.”

"mhm!"

"'kay. i'll be right back, pumpkin." another kiss to your neck, and he's off, walking flaccidly to the bathroom, shaking his fuzzy cheeks.

you drop your head back down against wade’s chest and sigh, "i gotta piss too, actually."

"oh, yeah, yes you do, mister!" deadpool pats you on your shoulders, "always make sure to pee before, during, and after sex!"

you absentmindedly chuckle, until you realize what it is he just said, “wait… during?!"

"hey! thou shalt not knock what thou hast not tried!i know it sounds icky, but hear me out."

he thrusts upwards into you sharply

“fuck!!!”

“so! i want you to imagine…” *THRUST* “how good it’d feel…” *THRUST* “to be really filled up.” *THRUST* “and i mean FULL!” *THRUST* “like your pussy is a searing hot water balloon about to explode. and then when it does?” *THRUST* “when it all comes flooding out of you? oh darling, the relief…” he moans dramatically, gripping your hips and shifting you back and forth on his shaft, “hottest thing you’ll ever experience, i swear. there’s nothing else like it… wanna try it?”

you’re skeptical, but wade wilson is a hell of a salesman. “…fuck it. let’s do it.”

“yippee!!! okay, just gotta get soft so i can piss. dead kittens… calculus homework… grandma deadpool! there we go! okay… phew… here goes…”

it’s a tense, awkward silence as he starts. you’re not sure what to expect. then, you begin to feel it. that searing heat swelling inside you, pooling between his cock and your skin, flooding what little space there was inside you. you gasp, and attempt to squirm to cope with the sensation, but wade holds you still.

“don’t move! don’t move, my little urinal boy! mmm, i gotcha, just… just trust me on this… i’m almost done…”

“you two are fucking disgusting.”

logan’s voice coming out of nowhere makes you jump, and then wade’s piss spills out of you. and just like he told you, it feels fucking incredible. you’re twitching, spasming, moaning pure nonsense as wade fucks your drenched, desecrated cunt. loud splashing accompanies the brutal pace of his hips.

“your loss, peanut! imagine wasting your piss on the bathroom toilet when you could’ve given it to this even cuter toilet!” he pecks you on the cheek with a loud “mwah~!”

from then on, it becomes you and wade peeing on each other just to mess with him. since he’s never told y’all to stop, you both figure that he likes it, but he’s too embarrassed to admit it.

the three of y’all are showering together

“so, just asking as a throuple here, are we all pro- or anti-peeing in the shower?”

“if you get piss on me, i’ll stick my claws through your fucking corneas.”

“promise?!”

”don’t. you fucking. dare.”

“aw, boo, you’re no fun.” wade pouts, then grabs you by your wet hair and pulls your ear towards his lips. “you, though… you’re TONS of fun.” he playfully bites your ear, and then your neck. “so fun, in fact, that you’re gonna get on your knees and drink every drop of piss that i give you, right?”

i feel like the only time y’all can get logan to participate is while he’s drunk. he’s too sloshed to feel shame for it.

maybe y’all are in bed together, all cuddled up in a tangled mess of limbs, and he grumbles something about needing to take a leak.

“oh, don’t worry about getting up, honey-bun!” wade fishes under the blankets for logan’s soft cock, “lemme take care of that for you.”

“wh… the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

“ugh please, don’t act like you haven’t thought about pissing down my throat. can’t i just once do something nice for you?”

he grumbles, not wanting to indulge wade, but not wanting to get up even more.“fine. whatever. i hope you choke on it.”

“oh, i will.”

[haza1ll]

animation for THE NEON VOIDD BABYYYY

this post is for @sugarpasteltmnt

‼️‼️MEGA YAPPING AHEAD PLEASE BEWARE‼️‼️

this might end up being really long and rambly and sappy but maybe not who knows.( it was) (and also featuring numerous spelling errors i am way too tired to fix and i am not re reading what i just wrote) SO. yknow how when chap idek..25(?) came out and i was all like “yeah so i made this animation for TNV and ill drop it when the fic ends” in your ask box? so. I FINISHED IT RAHHH. technically it has been finished since i sent that ask but ohhh my goodness did it need polishing. i haven’t animated in 4 years before that and omg it felt so good getting back into it but IDFK SOMETHING IS STILL NOT UP TO MY STANDARDS. i feel like i could have done so much more with it and i deffo wanted to but as soon as i told myself “oh yeah this is basically done” art block literally sucker punched me in the gut out of NOWHERE. I COULD NOT PICK UP MY I PAD. I COULD NOT DRAW. I WOULD STARE AT THE WIP ANIMATION AND BE UPSET BC I DDINT WANNA WORK ON IT AHH. that goes with saying. i kept having this thought in the back of my head “you need to finish it. you have a wip sitting. finish it. go do it. what are you doing are you STARTING ANOTHER PROJECT??? anddd yeah i got super distracted with other stuff and other projects and then i started spending my free time rewatching 2012 turtles and omg this summer has been a mess. i have all the free time in the world and i choose to be the least productive as possible with it even though i have a job that lets me literally sit on my phone and do whatever i want if no one is there. (i’ve brought my switch to work numerous times ☠️) what i was trying to get at is the fact that TNV has inspired a lot of the old me to come back and i lowk missed her. i really missed the point in all those words up there but im here now so whatever. BUT. TNV made me make a tumblr account, i got back in to animation AND digital art in general, got back into longfics that are ongoing, AND it also helped kickstart ideas for writing. i’ve got so many stories now!! you are such an inspirational person pastels i just- every time i read a new chapter of yours it made me wanna go get up and do something. i wanted to create something. because at the end of each chapter, i would think- “woah. a person out there just wrote this. they just sat down one day and committed. i wanna do that” so i did that. just huge thank you and shoutout to you pastel. like damn. idk no words from me here. just a bunch of platonic hugs and kisses and thankyouthankyouthsnkuou for this lovely heart wrenching but also sweet story. i love this fandom (tmnt) so SO much and i think it’s so awesome how interactive you are with your own personal NV fans. crazy how we’re all here because of a bunch of turtles. 

STUFF ABOUT THE ANIMATION:

okay i really like to talk and if you let me, i will run my mouth. this is the internet so im gonna do just that. so more words for you to read 😁. AHEM. so like i stated before in the genuinely scary mess of words up there, i haven’t touched animation in a while, like, 4 years a while. yes i’ve done digital art here and there along the years, i haven’t been doing it nearly as much as i need to to use some programs to their full potential. layers are still confusing, and don’t even get me started on multiply and all that jazz. shading never comes out right on digital for me, i gotta work that one out. so, for this animation, i decided to go with a very rough style. nothing needed to be perfect, i just wanted to live my little life of trying to experiment with a bunch of different things all at once in one short animatic. I wanted to do that little ball bounce thing all animation artists start with (i kinda included that with the key). i also wanted to have a go at lip sync (no hate it was my first time) and also timing the animation with the music. i wanted to see how smoothly i could move a figure in and out of and out of the screen as well, which honestly, i think that part might be my favorite. i think i did a good job, and thats what matters. the animation itself lost a bunch of quality on importing it- no clue how it happened but now the ending is grainy af. ignore that pls lol- but it was sitting in my flipaclip for god, i dont even know, 3 months now? i kept going back and forth on if i wanted to share it or not, so im throwing it to the wolves and i guess whatrver happrns happens and im good with that. yay. im actually rrwlly tired now sooo *leaves this absolute pile of words with a video attached at your feet and stumbles away quickly*

also i’ve genuinely never posted anything so i’m learning how to use tumblr too ☠️

[clxja16]

Enough

Part III

Charles Leclerc X Wolff!Reader

Genre: Toto Wolff's Daughter Au!

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 4K+

Author's Note: this is turning out way longer than it was suppose to be. I never thought this was going to take this many parts. I'm so sorry for putting you guys through this. This is intense man, like damn. Idek if she's going to be able to fix her relationship with her parents after this. Like damn. I'm just going to apologize now for whatever emotional damage this causes. Also I don't think Toto is like this is real life. This is strictly for the sake of entertainment. This is in no way based on real life.

Part I, Part II

-----------------------------------

Charles wants to ensure that this proposal is absolutely perfect for you.  He wants you to have the fairytale you’ve always wanted.  Joris is absolutely sick of hearing about this proposal already.  Everything from the ring, to where he was going to propose, to how he was going to do.  Charles has created a very well crafted, detailed plan about this proposal.  

Charles is going to take you out on his boat, just before sunset.  He hired a private chef, to cook the two of you a romantic dinner, that will be held privately.   Then just after dinner, Charles would bring you around to the deck of the boat, where the two of you can stargaze before he pops the question.  And Joris will be hiding out on the boat, that way when Charles proposes, he can get all the pictures.  And then if you say yes, there will be an engagement party awaiting you and Charles.  

“Charles, I told you we got this,” Joris repeats for the thousandth time, as Charles repeats the steps to the plan again.  Lorenzo chuckles as he watches his brother pace back and forth.  

“Are you sure you want to propose?”  Arthur asks, as he exchanges a side eye with Joris, “I mean if you’re this nervous then maybe you don’t actually wanna get married.  You guys haven’t been together that long.” 

Charles finally takes a seat, he looks around the table to Lorenzo, Arthur, and Joris.  “I just want it to be perfect for y/n,” he sighs, running his hands over his face, “I want to spend the rest of my life making things perfect for her.”  Charles wears a stupidly lovesick smile on his face as he thinks of you.  It makes Joris and Arthur sick to see how in love Charles is.  

“Alright, alright,” Arthus says.  

“We got this, stop worrying so much,” Joris says, as he stands up patting Arthur’s arm to tell him to go.  “We’ll go make sure everything is prepared,” Joris says, as he and Arthur take their leave.  Charles nods to what Joris said.  

Lorenzo stays seated, he takes a moment to watch Charles.  Lorenzo can see how the stress has ingrained itself into Charles.  He sees how the anxiety is weaved into Charles.  And still  Lorenzo can see the love that is painted into Charles’ eyes.   “What’s on in your mind brother?” Lorenzo asks, wanting to pry Charles' worries from his hands.  

Charles sighs once again, “did you invite her parents?”  Charles lays his worries out for Lorenzo to see.  

“I did,” Lorenzo answers.  

Charles looks to Lorenzo, “it’s my fault she’s at a cross with her parents.”  

Lorenzo closes his eyes after hearing Charles’ statement.  Charles is kind-hearted, well mannered, responsible, hard-working, dedicated, and so much more.  However, Charles is also stubborn, hot-tempered, and he can be thoughtless at times.  “I told you,” Lorenzo starts off, pointing at Charles, “I told you not to mess with her, not to get involved with Toto’s daughter, did you listen?” 

Charles sighs, he knows Lorenzo warned him beforehand. “No, I did not.” 

“No, you did not,” Lorenzo repeats to Charles, “it’s too late to be blaming yourself about what happened, it happened already.  There’s no going back,”  Lorenzo takes a breath, he runs his hand through his hair, wanting to pull some out because of Charles.  “Let me ask you brother, do you love this girl?” 

“I do, more than I love racing,” Charles answers.  

“Then forget everything else already,” Lorenzo says, truthfully.  Another thing about Charles, is that there isn’t much that he loves more than racing.  “If you love her as much as you say you do, forget about her parents, forget about everything that has happened.  You marry her, you love her, and you spend the rest of your life making things perfect for her.”  Lorenzo knows that there’s no stopping you and Charles from being together.  From the moment he saw the two of you interact with each other, he knew this was bound to happen.  Lorenzo hasn’t seen anyone that could match Charles better than you can.  “Because like mama has told us, you never get a love like this twice.”  

Charles smirks at Lorenzo’s words.  Charles remembers his mother’s stories about her relationship with their father.  He remembers her talking so deeply about the love they shared.  How it was a once in a lifetime type of love.  How it was a love that was dipped in gold.  How it was a love that was enough for more than a thousand lifetimes.  “Thank you,” Charles tells Lorenzo.  

Lorenzo nods at Charles’ gratitude, before standing and saying, “we’ll see you tonight, and please brother, let her dress you.” Charles laughs at Lorenzo's joke, as he watches Lorenzo leave. 

-

“Charles, you want me to wear the white dress?” you question again, as you stood in the bathroom fixing your hair for tonight.  “Where are we going tonight?” 

“We’re just going out on the boat,” Charles says, as he walks into the bathroom as he’s fixing his sleeves.  

“Why the white dress then?” 

“Because I'm wearing white ma cherie, I want us to match,” Charles smirks, planting a kiss on your cheek, as grabs the bottle of cologne on the counter and walks back out.

You move away from the bathroom mirror, leaning on the door frame, watching Charles as he moves about the bedroom.  You could notice the light shine on his forehead, he was so clearly nervous about something. You try to rack your mind with all the important dates.  It wasn’t any type of anniversary, you could remember.  It most definitely wasn’t Charles’ birthday, and you know it wasn’t your birthday.  It couldn’t be Arthur’s or Lorenzo’s birthday.  A tiny voice in the back of your mind wonders if he was gonna propose.  But you told that little voice to be quiet, because there was no way he was going to propose.  

You and Charles had been going out for less than a year.  Nothing about the relationship was really conventional.  You guys haven’t even officially been living together.  It doesn’t seem like the proper time in a relationship to propose.  But you do wonder, if he’s gonna do it.  You smile to yourself, thinking about what it would be like to be Mrs. Leclerc.  

You grab the mini white sundress that Charles is so insistent on you wearing tonight.  You change out of the comfort clothes you’ve been wearing.  When you emerge again from the bathroom, newly changed into the dress, you catch Charles staring at you.  “I’m ready,” you say as you look up to meet Charles’ eyes. 

You don’t miss the small flush on his cheeks, “wow,” he mumbles under his breath.  “You look…” Charles tries to think of a compliment that perfectly encapsulates how breath-taking you are.  “Damn,” Charles says instead.

You giggle at his choice, “I look damn?” 

“No,” Charles quickly says, shaking his head, “words to describe how beautiful you look tonight, haven’t even been invented yet.” 

You giggle again at Charles’ cheesiness, “well I guess that’s a compliment.”  Charles smiles at you, planting a kiss on your lips. 

“Shall we go?” Charles asks, as he pulls you out of the bedroom.  

“Yes we shall.” 

-

Charles brought you around to the deck, when you guys finished up dinner.  The stars up above were shining bright.  There was a blanket and pillows set up on the deck for you and Charles to sit and stargaze.  “Dinner was lovely,” you say, as you take a seat next to Charles on the blanket.  “How did you find this private chef?” You looked over curiously at Charles.  

You could see the faint red creep up his cheeks, “honestly?” 

“Honestly,” you say as you begin to giggle wondering where this private chef Charles hired, came from.  

“He’s one of the team chefs,” Charles laughs out loud.  

You can’t help but laugh along as well.  “You hired your team’s chef for our date tonight?” 

“He makes great food and I didn’t know who else could do a private dinner,” Charles says very bashfully.  

“You’re lucky, you’re so cute,” you say with a smirk going to kiss Charles.  He pulls you in closer, as the two of you look out into the night sky.  “Tonight was perfect, Charles.”  There’s a pause before you continue.  “Thank you for tonight.” 

Charles can feel his heart banging against his chest.  Your ring feels heavy in his pocket.  His breathing sounds louder than ever.  However he doesn’t feel an ounce of worry.  Having you staring at him, with love swirling deep in your eyes, it makes him feel calm.  You make him feel calm.  He enjoys this feeling of calmness when he’s with you.  So much so that when he pulls you to your feet to stand with him, he isn’t worried about what’s going to happen next.  

Charles pulls you up, so the two of you are standing on the deck.  Nothing but the vastly beautiful night skin surrounding the two of you.  “I love you, y/n Wolff.  I am madly, deeply, whole-heartedly in love with you.” Charles says as he pulls a box from his pocket, “I know we haven’t been together for long, but I’m never going to stop being in love with you.  I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and only you.”  He gets down onto one knee, “will you marry me, y/n?” 

You’re nodding your head before Charles can even open the box to show you the ring.  “Yes, yes, yes,” you say repeatedly, holding out your hand for your ring.  Charles just smiles at you, as he slips the ring on your finger.  You don’t think you even spare the ring a second glance as you focus on pulling Charles in for a kiss.  He stands, pulling you closer by the hips as your hands hold his face.  When you finally pull away, Charles can see the tears that line your eyes, and you repeat once more, “yes.” 

-

After Charles finally asked the question, and you said yes, did Joris come out of hiding, snapping all the photos of the intimate moment.  Charles brought you back to the land and there awaiting was yours and Charles’ closest family and friends.  All congratulating you on the engagement.  To you this was the perfect way to end the night, celebrating with people you held near and dear to your heart.  

As you and Charles made your way through the party, making sure to stop and talking to everyone that came.  Towards the end, did you see your parents, patiently awaiting their turn with you and Charles.  As you see them, a part of you wants to pretend you didn’t see them, you want to turn around and find someone else to talk to.  But Charles doesn’t allow that, he plasters a kind smile on his face for your parents as he waves to them.  He holds your hand tightly, pulling you towards them.  

“Thank you for coming,” Charles speaks up first, as you stand in front of them.  

“Of course, we couldn’t miss such a special moment,” Susie says, not taking her eyes off of you.  “Congratulations sweetheart.” 

“Thank you Mamma,” you say, as you feel the tears line your eyes again.  Susie sticks out her arms for a hug and you welcome her hug.  “Thank you for coming,” you say whole-heartedly with a full smile.  Your heart begins to feel at ease.    

“Congratulations Darling,” Toto says, pulling you from Susie for his own hug.  

“Thank you daddy,” you say as a few stray tears fall from your eyes.  

Charles watches the sweet moment exchanged between you and your parents.  He knows that this is what you needed. 

-

Nevertheless, news travels fast in Monaco.  It only took two days before photos of yours and Charles’ engagement was leaked to the media.  Articles were published, social media posts were made, the formula one podcast were covering it.  Everything had one thing in common though.  It was said ‘Charles Leclerc is engaged to Toto Wolff’s daughter.’ 

You don’t know why but it rubbed you the wrong way.  You have always been known as Toto Wolff’s daughter, and it never bothered you before.  It never used to bother you when people referred to you as the little wolf, or as the mini Toto.  You used to love being known as Toto’s daughter.  However, at this moment, it wasn’t the same.  

You didn’t read all the articles, as most of them were just copies of each other.  You did scroll through one just to see what people were saying, and you noticed that it took them three paragraphs before even mentioning your own name.  Then, even after mentioning your name in the article, they still referred to you as Toto Wolff’s daughter.  Your name never made the headlines, your face didn’t even make the cover photo.  You don’t know what it was, but this time, it didn’t feel good being known as Toto Wolff’s daughter.  

“Charles,” you spoke up, leaning on the doorframe of the bedroom, looking at Charles laying on the bed, “let's get married.” 

“Ma cherie,” Charles said pointing at your left hand, “that ring means we are getting married.” Charles chuckles as he sits up in the bed.  

You smile, looking at the ring on your finger.  “I know, but I mean let's get married now,” you say, looking up at Charles, “like before the season ends, let's get married.” 

“Are you sure?” Charles looks at you with worry.  

“I mean we can have a big wedding, with all the bells and whistles later on, but I wanna be married now.  I wanna be Mrs.Leclerc before the year ends.” You smile as you speak, thinking that will be a good enough reason for Charles.  

Charles smiles at you, he can see through your charade but he’s willing to give into you.  “If that’s what you want, we will do that,” he comes up to you, kissing you on the forehead.  “I have to ask what brought this on?”  Charles looks at you closely, and you know that your false reasons aren’t enough for him. 

You hang your head a little knowing that the reason behind the need to get married right away, is a little foolish.  “I am known as Toto Wolff’s daughter.  Did you know it took an article three paragraphs to even mention what my name was?”  You sigh, even as you say it aloud it sounds stupid.  

“Would you rather be known as Charles Leclerc’s wife?” Charles knows that trading the Toto Wolff’s daughter title for the Charles Leclerc’s wife title, isn’t going to satisfy you.  

“It would be a title I want, rather than a title that I'm stuck with.” you try to reason, you don’t know if you’re helping or hurting your case. 

“y/n,” Charles gives you a look.  You don’t like it when Charles knows you better than you know yourself, “we both know you don’t want to be known as Charles Leclerc’s wife.  You gotta make a name for yourself baby, maybe as a driver.” Charles raises his eyebrows at you, looking hopeful. 

“It’s been five years,” you say, looking nervously at Charles.  There isn’t a day that goes by that you haven’t thought about racing again, but five years is a long break for anyone.  

“The numbers you put up on my simulator are enough to suggest you still got it,” Charles says as he walks past you, out of the bedroom to leave you with your thoughts.  

You think for a second, “I still want to get married before the season ends,” you shout for Charles to hear you. 

“We can do that too ma cherie,” Charles shouts back, causing you to smile.  You do think about his suggestion of going back to racing though.  You can’t stop thinking about it.  

-

“Charles,” you spoke first, walking to the living room, with a stack of papers.  Charles sat up to pay attention to you.  “I meant it when I said I wanted to be married before the season ends.” 

Charles slowly nods his head, “okay.” 

“Let’s do it after Monza, right after Monza.  Your brothers are going to be in Monza for the grand prix, so will my parents.  Lake Como is a couple hours away.  We can go to a courthouse and then the lake for pictures.  What do you think?” 

“Ma cherie, if that’s what you want, we can do that.” Charles smiles softly at you, he is willing to give you whatever you want.  “What are those papers?” 

“Marriage license, that we need to fill out a file to get married,” you smile excitedly at Charles while he chuckles.  He could tell you were excited to get married.  

“Okay,” he says with a smile, as you hand him a pen.  The two of you spend the rest of the evening filling out all the official paperwork to get married.  The two of you decide to go to the courthouse the Tuesday after the grand prix.  Charles makes sure to call his mom and his brothers about the event.  He tells you that Pierre and Carlos are going to insist on coming as well.  

You tell him that’s fine, you don’t mind a few extra guests, as long as it’s not the entire grid.  You know you’re going to have to invite the entire grid when you make the actual big wedding.  

-

“Are you packing for the Netherlands?” you questioned as you made your way into the bedroom.  Charles' clothes were laid out on the bed to be packed.  

“Yeah, my ear is still bothering me, I think I’m going to have to drive it.” 

“Oh no, a driver has to drive to his race,” you say overly sarcastically to Charles.  He shakes his head at you with a bit of a smile.  

“Are you flying with your father?” 

“I was thinking of going with you,” you say, as you sit on the bed, watching Charles fold his clothes.  

Charles looks up at you with a smile, “I would love for you to come with me ma cherie,” he says as he leans down to give you a kiss.  “We leave tomorrow though, better get to packing.”  

“Yes sir,” you say sarcastically with a little salute.  Charles raises a brow at you, causing you to start blushing madly.  “I’ll pack.”  

“y/n,” Charles calls out, stopping you in your tracks, “did you tell your parents about the wedding?’ 

“I will, tonight.  After I pack.”  

-

After you packed your bags for the Netherlands and for Monza, you headed to your parents house for dinner.  You felt extremely nervous about telling your parents about the wedding.  In your gut you felt like telling them would be a mistake.  You couldn’t figure out why, as they seemed to be more accepting of your relationship with Charles at the engagement party.  Your father even congratulated you.  

You knew that this isn’t going to be the wedding they originally anticipated.  You know they are going to want a reason for the sudden rush to be married.  You don’t know if you want to tell them your reason though.  Your father would probably take offense to your aversion to being known as Toto Wolff’s daughter. 

When you walk into the house you can smell your Mamma’s cooking.  She didn’t cook often, considering that her and your father were constantly traveling for work.  That when she did cook it was a special occasion. You loved your Mamma’s cooking, something about it tasted extra special.  Almost like you could tell she was cooking with love. 

 “Hi sweetheart,” Mamma greeted you as you made yourself visible in the kitchen.  

“Hi,” you greeted back with a big smile.  

“Dinner is just about ready, get your father from his office please,” 

“Of course Mamma,” you say as you make your way to the office.  You knock first, before slowly pushing the door open.  You see your father sitting at his desk typing away, “Mamma said dinner is almost done.”  

Your father smiles when he hears your voice, he finishes his typing, shutting his laptop before standing, “lets eat.” 

Dinner is filled with many laughs and stories.  It feels like nothing has changed.  You know things have changed, you know that it's different now.  But you like that this place still offers you the feeling of home.  You may not have forgiven them but you are accepting that they were just trying their best.  This is their first time in life too.  

As you begin to wrap up dinner, you know it’s time to tell them.  “I have some news to tell you guys.” 

“Good news?” Your mamma questions as she places the last of the dishes in the sink to be washed, before walking back towards the table. 

“I think it’s good news,” you say.  

“What is it darling?” Your father questions as he sits up in his seat.  

“Me and Charles are getting married.” 

Your Mamma chuckles a bit, “sweetheart, we know that, we were at the party.” 

“No, I mean we’re getting married soon.  Like in two weeks.” 

“Two weeks?” your father questions, looking seriously at you.  

“That’s really soon,” your Mamma says. 

“Why are you rushing?” Your father questions. 

“I want to be married before the season ends, I just want to be married.” 

“That’s not a reason y/n.” Your father looks at you with a scorn.  He makes it clear that he’s not liking this. 

“I love Charles, daddy.  I don’t want to wait to spend the rest of my life with him,” you try to come up with a good enough reason on the spot.  Something that won’t hurt your father’s feelings.  

“Are you pregnant?” Your father questions, his disdain being clear. 

“Excuse me?  No daddy, of course not.” 

“That’s the only reason to rush into a marriage like this.” 

“Toto,” your Mamma says, “I don’t think that’s fair.” 

“That’s the only reason people rush into a marriage is when they’re knocked up.” You can’t believe your father’s words.  “It’s probably why he proposed, because he knew.  So how far along are you?” 

“Daddy i’m not pregnant,” you didn’t know what else to say, as you shook your head, denying your father’s accusations. 

“I told you Susie, he was no good for her.” Your father doesn’t stop, he continues on with “I should have never brought you to the paddock.  I should have never allowed you to be around that boy.” 

“Daddy please,” you begin to cry, you don’t know how the night took such a sour turn.  

“Toto, I think that’s enough,” your mamma tries to stop your father. 

“How far along are you, we can go see a doctor and make it like this never happened.” 

Too far.  Your father went too far with that last statement.  Susie knows he went too far as well.  She can see it in your face there was no saving it now.  “I’m not pregnant,” you say with much disgust.  “I wanted to get married so soon because I hate being known as your daughter.  I much rather be known as Charles' wife than as your daughter.” 

The way you say it hurts Susie’s heart.  It almost feels like you’re saying you hated being their daughter.  She knows you have every right to be angry.  It doesn’t mean that your words hurt any less.  She knows that this is hers and Toto’s fault.  She just wishes Toto would stop digging their own graves. 

You stand to take your leave, you don’t want to be here anymore.  You don’t even know if you want them at the wedding anymore.  “Even if I was pregnant daddy, I would never get rid of it.”  You wipe away any of the remaining tears, “you’ve made it clear how you feel about this, I don’t want you at the wedding.  Mamma, you’re more than welcome to come to the wedding, you and Jack.  Only you and Jack.”  

You leave it at that, and you don’t know if you can accept this.  You accepted what they did to your racing career, but this is an entirely different matter.

Part IV

-----------------------------------

Taglist: @christianpulisic10 @lunnnix @honeybunchiesofoats @catswag22 @lazybot @coffeewhore18 @siovhanroy @peachiicherries @pizzalover57 @livingnotthriving@noodleboyluke@mirrorball-6@elijahslover @luciaexcorvus@styles-sunflower @nosebeers @topguncultleader

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious yet Optimistic and Graceful Part 2

Part 1 & Part 3

CW: Morally gray reader, F!Reader, John Wick-type universe (ie, killing, the reader thinks about past injuries from fights. training not descriptive). Not smut but suggestive thinking from both Vincent and the reader, mutual pinning, and worldbuilding but no description of the reader. Smoking, a nonsexual cigarette burn on the reader, brief drinking. MAYBE OCs (Fictional staff for the fictional hotel). NO BETA

Summary: The Marquis de Gramont still annoys you. But he needs help from you(r hotel). Like a good manager, you help. 

AN: PART 2 everyone!!! Thank u for the likes/comments/reblogs! This takes place a few months after part 1. IDEK if this is ooc the man had like 30 minutes of screen time overall and I’ve been writing this for a week. I read it a few times for spelling but something got messed up copy and pasting and a para or 2 got dropped. Part 3 will be out ???? soon(ish)

Something about today had his words bouncing around in your head. Out of all the ways to describe someone, he narrowed it down to three (well technically he used six). 

Cautious. Sure, you can see that. Out of a love of being alive, you tried not to take any unnecessary risks in your fighting days. You also tried to avoid having a marker whenever you could. There was one in existence with your blood on it. A favour for someone you thought was a friend. You held up your end, the bloody fingerprint stored in the New York Continental as proof. 

Optimistic. That also makes sense. You actually enjoy what you do, loving being part of the criminal underworld before and now. You haven't been the manager for too long but would already die for this hotel. 

The part that was throwing you was graceful. You didn't think you were that graceful physically. You have scars to prove that you've taken a hit, slash, or burn many times. Did he mean gracefully with people? Camille did so much for the hotel, you just deal with regular hotel things (like getting Monument Historique status for a collection of French weapons, take that, Vincent). The other part was implanting rules from the high table. Maybe just being graceful and polite when you were resisting the urge to claw your eyes out. 

It could also be flirting. You felt he wasn't the type to hit on someone out of the blue. Sure he was smart and confident, but it seemed like too big a risk for him to take. Unless he is just a playboy, which is something you find yourself tempted to google twice a day. 

You would rather die than admit it, but you almost like when he called you Mademoiselle. Almost. It was like a nickname, plus it brought out his accent more. When you found yourself enjoying.

To make things worse Camielle caught on to your crush immediately. While embarrassing, it did show how clever she was and you were glad she was the concierge. Her knowing also gave you an excuse to just tell Vincent your direct number, so Camille would stop reminding you how frequently he called.

You love the bar in the hotel. It is beautiful, decorated in an Art Nouveau style, with large windows allowing for the sun to filter in during the day. You were almost pleased that Vincent asked to meet you there, allowing you to subtly show off your business. 

Finding him at the bar wasn’t hard, no one else was wearing a dark green three-piece suit, complete with a complexly tied tie and their coat of arms pin. He looks good but tense, one long leg crossed over the other. Plus, you could see Chidi and another guard in their gray suits keeping an eye. You were thankful that you took extra time this morning on your outfit. 

You slid into the chair next to him, after shaking a few hands with other big names down in the bar for a late-night drink. 

“I hear you have a problem.” You say, while not knowing the full details, just that he wanted to meet you in the bar and something was wrong. It kicked your heartbeat up, even if you only told yourself it was the stress of him being here. 

“Correct.”. 

“I’m sure you know because of your love of rules, but I can only help those who are using the hotel services.” 

You didn't care that much, and would absolutely bend the rules to do him a favour, but couldn't resist a chance to get a dig in.

The Marquis pulls out two gold coins and slides them across to the bartender. He orders a top-shelf spirit before his eyes cut to you. Now he's buying you a drink in your own hotel. You would want him to buy you a drink in a different situation but at least he didn't order for you. That may cause you to actually kill him.  

Clearing your throat you order your usual, quietly thanking the bartender when the drink was placed in front of you. 

The bar wasn't loud, but he dropped his head towards you so you could hear him better and to give the conversation some privacy. 

“You have a cartographer here, no?”

You nodded. The cartographer is excellent. He had blueprints for buildings past and present, as well as the catacombs. He also had knowledge and keys to abandoned buildings if something had to be desponded and not be found. 

“How soon do you need him?” While one of the best, he was away for his daughter's wedding

“Tonight.” 

You took a small sip of your drink. You could probably get the information he was looking but you wouldn't be as efficient. 

“While we do have a cartographer, he's gone to a family event. If your plans are that urgent I can try my best to fill in.” 

Content with your answers, Vincent leaned back into his seat taking a swig of his drink. You took the finishing sip of yours before pushing out of your chair. 

“I have spare keys in my office. I’ll meet you back here in five.” 

For how commanding and prideful he is, you never expected him to need the services from your hotel.

The maps room was fairly boring. Three out of the four walls were filled with lockboxes to various maps. Blueprints, and documents for France and even some other countries nearby. 

“Are these your beloved catacombs?” The Marquis asks, studying the paper taped to the wall. You asked the map maker for more information and for ideas on what you could do with them. 

You hum in agreement, deep down thrilled that he remembered such a small part of your conversation ages ago. 

Your eyes jump over the numbered lock boxes in front of you, trying to find the one he needs. 

You half expected him to help you pull out maps and building plans, a blend of chivalry, showing off his height, and getting under your skin. He didn’t, letting you struggle with the lock instead. 

Vincent knew he should help you, but the way your back was arched as you tried to open one of the lockboxes out of the dozens was more interesting. His gaze moved over your legs, before looking at your ass in your skirt. 

Feeling the lock give a turn to the side, you peek inside the box to make sure the plans were there. Hand sliding in, you pulled the thin tube out, double-checking the label on the front to make sure it is the one you need. Leaving the box unlocked you turn to face Vincent, a triumphant grin on your face.

Maybe your grin and pride in getting the correct documents were a bit unprofessional but he didn't care. Not since the small room amplified the smell of your perfume and how the spent the better part of the last five minutes checking out your legs. 

Uncapping the tube, you pulled out the blueprints and spread them on the backlist glass table in front of you.

“Here are your prints,” you state awkwardly. You're not sure why he needs them, and why he personally came here. Chidi is keeping guard outside the map room, despite you repeating the hotel policy of no business. 

The Marquis nods in response already focusing on the table. You flatten a small map from the tube in case he needs context on the area. Not likely since he already knows what to look for, proven by his notebook and the constant sound of his pen against the paper taking notes. 

Watching him study the map may have been alright at first, but three hours later you are tired. There are only so many times you can look at his hair and wonder if he would get mad if you run your hands through, or gently tug it. Or what his hands would feel like, especially with his signet ring. 

The grandfather clock tells you that it's only 2:36 am but you feel like it's later. Even Vincent looks slightly less than perfect, hair falling out of place from where he had gelled it that morning.

He is a guest of your hotel so you're going to keep helping him no matter how long he stays. Just with a bit less optimism. 

“Mademoiselle?” Your eyes snap to his face at the sound of his voice, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“You look tired. You should go to bed,” he comments. 

Wow. Thanks, you think. 

“I’m okay. I’m happy to stay here as long as you need,” you say while hoping he leaves soon. “How are the plans going? The cartographer can help you with the finer details when he gets back.” 

“That is not necessary. I have all I need here.” He slowly stretches and starts to stand. You never considered it but being hunched over the table must have been hell on his back given his above-average height. Finally seeing your chance to go to bed, you quickly make it over to the door, opening it for him. 

“Merci, again.” He thanks you as if this is not your job. 

“Do you want me to walk you to the main door?” You have all your floor plans memorized. 

“We are fine.” He replies. 

He looks at you and you can't read his expression. He's less tense, obviously getting what he needed from the plans. 

“The high table did a good job making you the manager.” 

You feel pride swell in your chest, despite the exhaustion you feel behind your eyes. 

“Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle” 

“Bonne nuit. Bon matin.” You quietly wish him as he leaves, wasting no time putting the plans away and locking the map room door. 

You let out another exhaust of bitter smoke, watching it curl away on the cool night air. You didn't start smoking in Paris, but dropped and picked the habit a few times.

“Fumes-tu, Mademoiselle?” a voice behind you makes you flinch. You didn’t tell anyone that you have a secret smoking place, let alone that you went out to smoke. 

You spin around before relaxing at the sight of the Marquis, clad in a dark suit, his signature pin on the lapel reflecting the light. 

You nod, before realizing he probably can't see you well under the lights in the alcove. He is by your side quickly, long legs carrying him the short distance. 

You tip your head to the small table, where your rolling papers, tobacco and other smoking paraphernalia sit in a silent offer. Vincent looks at the table before facing you again. Guess he's too fancy to smoke you assume while taking a drag.

You turn your head to blow out more smoke, careful not to blow it in this direction, a hard feat considering he was extremely close to you. The smell of his cologne drifted under the smell of smoke. 

You move your cigarette down and out to the side, fully ready to see why the Marquis interrupted you. Watching his face, his eyes dipped down to your lips and then back to your eyes almost a silent asking. The smooth and sophisticated era was still there but there was uncertainty under it. 

You slowly leaned closer, not wanting to make the first move, but you want this to happen. He hand-cupped your face, the cool metal of the ring nice as he shifted closer, leaving a small gap for you to make the final push to kiss him. Just a few more inches and then -

Pain. A sharp burning pain on your pinky finger. 

You jerk back, trying to examine what happened. Your cigarette slipped while you were distracted and the glowing embers of the end dropped only to land on your pinky. 

“Shit. Sorry,” you apologize, letting out a nervous huff of a laugh while holding up your burn. The Marquis was unreadable, hand withdrawn. Does he think you rejected him? 

He reaches for your wrist and you let him take it. Slowly he brings your hand up to the outdoor lamp to inspect your burn. The stinging has subsided but you are sure the flesh is a bit swollen. 

With his free hand, he takes the offending cigarette and brings it to his lips. You can't help but stare, cigarette burns long forgotten as you watch him take a deep inhale, before exhaling over your head, so no smoke blows in your face. Part of you regret not making the final push to kiss him, while another hopes he takes another puff. 

Vincent brings your cigarette down to examine it in better lighting before placing it back in your hand, still firmly in his grasp. 

“It is not a well-rolled cigarette. It is too tight.”

There it is you think. The classic Vincent snark. But you secretly hope he rolls one so you can watch his hands and watch him smoke it. 

“You don’t have to smoke it.” 

“I just wanted to give you this.” He reaches into his suitcoat pocket, retrieving a white envelope. His hands brush yours while you grab it. 

You know his handwriting from the time with him in the map room, and you could easily tell he wrote your name on the front. 

“Thank you?” you weren't sure what was inside but you were being all the things he described you as. 

“I will go, and let you read it.” 

You watch him leave, thoughts racing too fast to try and save the situation.

Do you call out after him? Does he think you rejected him? Maybe not because he still gave you the envelope. 

You ash your cigarette before collecting your things and going back to your office. Maybe things would make more sense there.

Taglist: @heartrot666

[devilsrecreation]

Outlander incorrect quotes part 5426 (jk idek how many there are now)

Kion: You cannot deny that you trespass into the Pridelands almost every day!

Janja: YOU CANNOT DENY DEEZ NUTS!

Janja: Me and my boys are gonna mess you up!

Chungu: I rolled a 1

Cheezi: I rolled a 1

Janja: Fuck-

Kenge: I’m going to need a skull and I can’t have you ask any questions

Sumu: *shows Kenge his skull collection* Take your pick

Kenge:

Sumu:

Kenge: This one’s fine

Reirei: I got to get back before Goigoi realizes I’m not in bed

Goigoi: Reirei?…..REIREI😭😭😭

Janja: I kissed Jasiri!

Chungu: Woah….

Cheezi: We owe Nne and Tano so much money!

Every time the two-leggers come to the Outlands

Nduli: The most obvious two-leg trap I have ever seen

Tamka: I’m gonna touch it!

Nduli: NO TAMKA, YOU’RE GONNA GET KIDNAPPED

Piga (Kiburi’s son): We never should have come in the Badlands

Bingwa: No guts, no glory

Piga: Are you ever scared of anything?

Bingwa: Yeah, dying alone. That’s why I brought you here

Makuu, talking about Ucheshi: We need to find my mate. I’m worried about her

Fuli: Seriously, what do you see in her?

Makuu: She makes me laugh

Human au:

Tamka: Neema, what am I gonna do to lose all this weight?!

Neema: [Stop inventing things like cheesecake pizza]

Teaching the Idiots how to act around royalty:

Mzingo: One should bow gracefully and say: “My dear Queen, how delightful to meet your acquaintance.”

Goigoi: *bows* My queer deen, how delightful to aquaint your maintenance!

If Scar met my oc’s

Scar: When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to see out of both eyes

Kiatu: Congratulations, you are as effective as pollen.

Scar: I MEAN I’m going to make you feel pain!

Nguvu: Rabies already does that. Next

Scar: You won’t be able to think straight!

Ucheshi: Try being looney.

Scar: I’M GOING TO BASH YOUR HEAD INTO A WALL!

Kifo: That’s already happened to me. Come on, be creative!

Scar: I’M GONNA MAKE YOU WANT TO DIE!

Wakali: I’m a part of Gen Z! You’re late to the party!

Scar: WHAT INTIMIDATES YOU?!

Aibu: The skinks!

The Outlanders in an escape room

Jasiri: We need to find a murder weapon. It’s been a while since I’ve played clue

Reirei: We found a rope!

Mzingo: Rope…revolver…

Kiburi: There’s a dagger…

Janja: And a banana!

Reirei: There’s no banana!

Janja: Then why did they give me a banana?

Reirei: How do you kill someone with a banana, Janja?

Janja: Maybe they’re allergic!

Kiburi: Who’s allergic to bananas?

Janja: Lot of people

Mzingo: Name one

Janja: NO

The Outlanders in an escape room part 2:

Janja: Alright, fellas! I want you to spread out and look for clues

Chungu, Cheezi, Nne, and Tano: YOU GOT IT, BOSS!

Janja: Now get to it!

Cheezi: Janja! I found a door, Janja!

Janja: That’s a good report, Cheezi!

Chungu: *on the floor* Janja! I found the floor!

Janja: That’s terrible! Get off of that!

TLG writers: Have you ever heard the sound of a snake falling into lava?

Us fans: Uh uh

Writers: W O U L D Y O U L I K E T O???

[kevinsdsy]

I know you ended the socmed au but if you have any Kevin and Shane hcs to share…

YES PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO KEEP TALKING MY SHIT EVEN THO I’VE WRAPPED UP THE SOCMED AU HEHEHE and i was planning to do a headcanon post later so this is perfect 🙂‍↕️ (fair warning what’s red is nsfw ig)

before shane met kevin he literally had no idea whether he liked guys or not— he has never given sexuality much thought and was more of a ‘i see what happens, i like whoever i like who even cares’ kind of person

then he meets kevin day (and who isn’t in love with kevin fucking day) and he’s like oh. okay. i definitely like this guy.

he has his sexuality crisis for like twenty minutes and he’s like “do i really like kevin day? or is this just the kevin day effect everyone is talking about?” and then he’s like who even cares i need to make out with this guy and he immediately goes game on and just starts flirting.

at first kevin isn’t even sure what the deal is with shane. is he flirting? is he just a guy in sports? is he just being a trojan? and shane takes his oblivious act for like half a day and then is like “ok dude. i just figured out i apparently like guys and i would love to make out with you. and we only have a summer together before going back to our lives— so no time to waste. do you want this? yes or no? no pressure.” and kevin just gapes at him for a second before saying “what the fuck?” under his breath and then he decides oh whatever. they’re in paris and they end up making out 🙂‍↕️

and they keep making out. and if they’re not watching sports and they’re not with their friends, they’re most likely together.

they discuss A LOT of exy.

(sometimes they discuss exy while having sex/making out) ((i feel like kevin is insane enough to get off to that))

i have this headcanon that no one sleeps in their designated hotel rooms— so these guys wake up in each other’s rooms a lot of the time, but also they end up in god knows which room?? so people have definitely walked in on them (not during sex pls just a shirtless make out session) and everyone knows kevin day and shane reed are making out with each other this summer.

whenever anyone asks them about it they just shrug it off like: “we’re in paris.”

because at the end of the day it’s just going to be a summer fling.

they both end up back home, idek how many miles apart, but they’re not going to commit to an established relationship.

doesn’t stop them from texting. and making inappropriate jokes online. and having phone sex, but oh well.

we all have to go through our complicated situationships, do we not?

ntm when the foxes and trojans have to face each other again on court they’re being really professional about it and they’re competitive and all. until the last seconds of the game pass and they’re both stuck doing press and then when they’re finally done with press and exy— they find some time alone to “catch up”.

and with catch up i mean discussing their game in great detail while getting each other off.

and both of them return to their teams looking like hot messes and even though they’re behind closed doors both teams have an equal reaction to them entering and doing the walk of shame (except they’re both shameless)

“guess you had a chance to catch up with shane?” kevin just grunts while making his way towards the shower.

“kevin?” someone asks. and shane just proudly nods, while confirming “kevin 🙂‍↕️.” as he makes his way to the showers.

[the-roadtrip-system]

OH WAIT HEY YOU'RE INTO PRESSURE. What is Pressure? Who is Sebastian Solace? All I know is that he's a fish.

its a roblox horror game inspired by doors (another roblox game), iron lung, ultrakill (apparently?) and scp: containment breach!!

from a gameplay standpoint, its got a similar premise to spooky's jumpscare mansion. you go through a certian amount of rooms while trying to survive monsters! except instead of 1000 rooms, its only about 100-something.

from a lore standpoint this is where it gets fun. you are a prisoner, sentanced to death. a company called urbanshade shows up to the prison you're at, promising a chance at a new life. but its not easy. you're not expected to return from this expedition at all. you are expendable. nothing more.

you have to go into the hadal blacksite, a facility at the depths of the ocean, and retrive the crystal that powers the whole place. the blacksite is on lockdown due to the actions of Z-13, one of the experiments. everything previously contained is now loose, and the building is practically caving in on itself. if you survive and retrieve the crystal, your criminal record is wiped clean, and you are given financial compensation to start your life anew.

oh also your prisoner diving gear has a shotgun shell pointed directly at your neck at all times and it can be remotely set off killing you instantly. attempting to leave the blacksite or remove your diving gear will result in your head getting exploded. so thats fun!

also also, you know how the deeper you go in the ocean the higher the pressure (haha) gets? well in the lore, if you go even deeper, you enter whats called the let-vand zone. where the pressure restabilizes to a level that is safe for humans to swim in! the dramatic pressure change keeps everything in the let-vand zone in, and everything else out. urbanshade has special submarines that can go through in and out without it and its passengers imploding :)

sebastian solace, voiced by gianni matragrano, is your only friend in the blacksite. when you get to roughly door 50 (its been anywhere from 47 to 53 in my experience), you find him and his shop! (its his tail. the shop is his tail.) throughout the game you can collect usb drives, classified files, and dna viles, all adding up to a point score visible in the top right of the screen, and you can use these points to buy items for yourself! light sources, medkits, code breachers (basically a keycard for the keycard doors when you cant find the keycard), and batteries for whatever you already have! just dont let your guard down too much around him. he very easily can kill you if you mess with him too much (ie: flash him with the really bright flash beacon)

(also side note: theres so many light sources in this game. theres flashlights, lanterns, flash beacons, hand crank flashlights, blacklights and gummy flashlights, and you can find multiple of the same one in the same room its ridiculous.)

OH I ALMOST FORGOT every time you die to something you get shown the classified file that urbanshade has about it! but most of the words are redacted. the more times you die to something, the more gets revealed! (i have everything unlocked for all hazards atm except for one thing ive only ever gotten once and survived so idek what that ones called)

so yeah thats pressure :) i think its fun :) i have 99 deaths and 7 wins :)

(theres more about sebastians lore i want to say but thats technically spoilers so im putting it under the cut)

the experiment Z-13 that caused the lockdown and made everything go to shit? thats sebastian! he was falsely accused of murdering 9 people back in 2012 and was sentenced to the death penalty (electric chair specifically iirc) but he got swooped up by urbanshade instead. they made a fake report that he did die so legally he is deceased. in 2015, he was the first subject for an experiment to give humans gills to allow them to breath underwater, so they gave him a shit load of aquatic animal dna to basically see what worked and what didnt. (blue whale, something redacted, great white shark, sea snake, female anglerfish (since males are basically nothing more than a parasitic ballsack), silver spinyfin, and mantis shrimp) [you're wrong when you say he's a fish. he's several fish. /silly] the glaring physical aspects of the experiment were ironed out in future versions of testing. he faked the affects of anesthetic and killed a high ranking guard, took his keycard, and let as many things loose at he possibly could. the reason he wants the data you find around the place is because he's trying to get as much information on urbanshade as he can, to give to a rival corporation in hopes of getting out of the blacksite.

oh and fun fact! this game takes place in 2025. sebastian has been a mutant fish man stuck in a facility at the bottom of the ocean for around 10 years! :D

all of this is found in his file that you can buy in his shop for 1000 points :)

[oakantony]

Yes, Chef

A completely uncalled for Hisoillu Chick-Fil-A AU. I honestly have no idea. Maybe I'll put it on AO3 one day idek. (It's in progress. Enjoy the rough draft.)

tws for this part include: neglect, financial abuse, verbal abuse, homophobia, ableism

future tws for this story will eventually include: canon-typical violence, explicit sex, possibly the raunchiest handjob i've ever written in my life

Enjoy!

-

It didn’t matter how accurately Illumi wrote the quarterly reports, how perfectly he arranged the weekly schedules, or how precisely he ordered supplies--his father would always fuck it up and leave Illumi there, alone, to clean up the mess.

In this case, literally.

His 15-year-old brother, Killua--middle child of the family and now shortest-lasting employee of their fast-food empire--had completely trashed the kitchen before giving his father, and Illumi, the middle-finger. “I quit,” he said as he stormed away. “Don’t expect to see me at home, either. I’m quitting this bullshit family, too.”

For some reason, Illumi believed him this time. Maybe it was the enormous backpack he carried with all his essentials--packed like he truly meant to move away. Maybe it was the new friend he’d found last month, whom he claimed had a bed big enough for the two of them to share. Maybe it was because Illumi, deep down, understood the sentiment.

Hm, no. Not that last part. Never that last part.

Illumi was loyal to his family until the end. How else was he meant to live? The vast fortune belonging to the Zoldyck family awaited him--so long as he continued to manage the business.

“He’ll come around,” said Silva in a gravelly, too-certain tone. He adjusted his suit jacket, looking perfect and statuesque despite everything. “He’s just in those hellish teen years.” He placed an enormous hand upon Illumi’s shoulder as a farewell and started to walk away, his long white hair swaying in a braid.

“Wait,” said Illumi. He swept a hand over the overturned prep station, the spilled jugs of peanut oil, and the broken dish sprayer dripping water down the side of the stainless steel cabinets. “We open in twenty minutes, do not have our pre-prep, and now we are down a cook.”

Silva raised one silver eyebrow. “I���ve trained all of my children to handle this. So handle it.”

He departed, checking his phone almost idly, utterly unconcerned. The pink sky of dawn winked through the door’s gap briefly before it sealed shut. Click.

Illumi hadn’t worked a fryer in almost six years. He took a deep breath and tied his long, straight, black hair into a high ponytail at the top of his head. He would have to net it before cooking, but this was fine for now. He’d debated cutting it many times previously--

But his father had long hair, and there seemed to be some sort of unwritten pride in maintaining hair like this even in a setting that would make short hair…simpler. And Illumi would do whatever it took to make his father proud.

Perhaps working the kitchen today will feel nostalgic, like back when I was a teen, he thought as he began to clean the kitchen. Quickly, efficiently, and well enough that most wouldn’t even be able to tell it’d been nearly destroyed. His first employee came in whistling, oblivious to the issues.

“Good morning, Canary,” said Illumi.

“Hi, boss,” she replied, bowing her head in greeting. She looked at the mop he held and across the kitchen, which was back to square zero--almost.

“Will you prep?”

“Oh no. Did the evening guys forget?”

“No,” said Illumi. “My little brother was meant to start his first ever shift this morning. Instead, he destroyed the kitchen.”

“Killua?” she asked, head tilted.

“That is correct.”

She hissed through her teeth in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ll get on that. Does that mean we’re down a man?”

“Do not worry. I will work the fryer today so that Amane will help take orders.” His watch trilled in warning. Sixty seconds before the doors open for the morning. He began to list off the things they needed: “Onions, tomatoes--lettuce is already shredded, but we need it pulled out from the walk-in--”

“Yes, yes. I got it, Mr. Zoldyck. You go check the front of house.” She held her hand out to take the mop. “I’ve done pre-prep at least a hundred times. I got the list memorized.”

The tightness Illumi didn’t even realize he had between his ribs began to loosen, allowing him to breathe in deep. Relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate you.” He would have to remember this moment when it came time for promotions next month--Canary was more than deserving of the assistant manager role. By the time he thought to say as much to her, however, a line of SUVs materialized very suddenly around the brown brick building, and several parents were standing at the doors.

Later, he noted to himself. He would tell her later.

He unlocked the door, held it open, and greeted, “Welcome to Chick-Fil-A.”

“Thanks,” said a particularly harried-looking mother as she stepped inside, holding the hand of a toddler covered in what Illumi hoped was dried chocolate.

“My pleasure,” he replied.

-

“It’s too bad you’re usually stuck at the front with customers, because you’re really good at this, actually,” said Gotoh. “I forget sometimes that you worked in the kitchen for years before taking over as manager.”

The timer chimed, alerting him that the chicken breasts were done cooking. “Father starts all of his children off as fry cooks,” said Illumi, deftly lifting the basket out of the pressure fryer. “This is a much simpler job than balancing books.”

Gotoh chuckled as he placed another tray of battered breasts aside Illumi, ready for the basket and fryer. “And you prefer cooking?”

Illumi watched the cooked chicken tumble into the shiny silver container and pondered the question. “No,” he said. “I prefer strategizing. My ideas are better than my food.”

“We don’t ever really use original ideas,” Gotoh pointed out. They had a set menu of items with some seasonal pulls and, on occasion, test products that came down from corporate. No one manager would have power enough to exact real change.

He knew as much. It didn’t stop him from scribbling restaurant concepts in the office after business closed, considering the popularity of certain items, the cost of ingredients--it was almost like a puzzle, but a creative and original one. “It is just idle thinking. Nothing I would ever do in reality.” 

Silva had made that abundantly clear during their last conversation on the topic. Illumi glanced up to the dented stainless cabinet door to the left of Gotoh, fist-shaped. It almost seemed to wink at him in cruel memory. Illumi still needed to get someone to come out to do that repair. City inspectors pointed it out on their last sweep; technically a dent didn’t break any laws, but visible damage in the building did pull their ranking from A+ to simply A.

Illumi changed into a new pair of gloves and began to prepare the next batch of chicken breasts. “After I drop these, will you wait for the timer? I need to check our applications.”

“Of course,” said Gotoh. “You managed to fill in on the fryer and post a job listing already?” He turned to look at the big digital clock over the kitchen door. “It’s not even one PM yet. You’re damn efficient.”

“That is what I am paid to do. Be efficient.” He lowered the basket into the fryer and made quick work of fastening the latch.

Gotoh chuckled. “You know, there’re rumors you and Milluki don’t even get paid for working at your father’s restaurants.”

“That would be ridiculous,” said Illumi. “And illegal.”

“Oh, I know,” said Gotoh. “Your father wouldn’t do something so disrespectful anyway.”

“Indeed.” Illumi got paid biweekly, just like everyone else. His checks were directly deposited into the family’s shared account. While he didn’t have his own card to use, his mother made sure to give him a handful of twenties each week as "spending money." It seemed fair enough; the rest of his income was likely used to pay the family's many bills. The allowance he was given was generous, really, considering he got to stay in his childhood bedroom rent-free. Not that he had much choice. He'd talked briefly about moving out a few years back and his mother burst into tears almost immediately--

He was going to be thirty next year. He would broach the topic then. Probably.

He pulled off his gloves and headed towards the manager’s office. “I will be back in twenty.”

“Take your time,” Gotoh called back without turning around.

-

His feet ached, his stomach growled in hunger, and sweat covered him head to toe, but Illumi nonetheless arrived at the isolated booth at exactly the correct time to interview the only real candidate he’d been able to find for the fry position in the last twelve hours. Already the qualified stranger sat, eating a complimentary order of fries.

Illumi took a minute to catch his breath, appreciating the soft plastic cushion beneath his seat. He actually had yet to sit today. He’d just hauled an enormous bag of trash to the dumpster, alone, and he’d nearly been crushed under the weight of used paper trays and styrofoam cups as exhaustion made his arms twinge and shake. “Hello,” he said, only slightly winded. “I am Illumi Zoldyck. Manager.”

“Hello. Long day, I see,” came the low, teasing voice of--?

Illumi looked down at the paperwork he snagged. Hisoka Morow. “My day has been fine,” he said, nearly believing it. “Busy. But fine.”

“Funny,” said Hisoka. “Mine has been exactly the opposite. Slow, but terrible. I’ve never been so bored in my life. Please hire me, if only to give me something to do.”

Illumi looked up, surprised, and took in Hisoka for the first time.

He was severe-looking, but unusually handsome still, with an angular face, doll-like smooth skin, and vividly pink hair. “We do not employ cooks with unnatural hair colors.” He took his pen, slashed through Hisoka’s name, and began to stand up. “Thank you for coming in.”

“That’s no problem,” Hisoka said, holding out a hand to stop Illumi from departing too quickly. “I read the rules linked in the listing. I wouldn’t’ve come here to waste your time, I assure you. I’m happy to wear a hat.” He shrugged. “I’ll cut it, too, if you insist.”

Illumi narrowed his eyes at Hisoka, giving him another once-over. He was clean-shaven--and clean in general, which counted in his favor. In fact, as Illumi lowered back into his seat, he realized Hisoka smelled very good. Fresh, warm, and a little sweet. It was a subtle scent--he’d not bathed in cologne like some interviewees of the past. “Very well. Your resume says you have extensive experience on the line at Revere.”

“An understatement made purely for legal reasons,” Hisoka said. “I was the sous.”

Illumi slowly lowered his pen to the paper, glaring at Hisoka in complete disbelief.

“It’s true,” said Hisoka. “I’m not allowed to include it in my credentials because of some, hm… issues with the chef there.”

Illumi tilted his head in thought. “Chrollo Lucilfer.”

“Oh, you know him.”

“K City is not that big. I know all the restaurateurs. They are our competitors.”

Hisoka laughed, and loudly. 

Illumi bristled and said, “I do not know what is so funny.”

“The idea of corporate--industrial--large scale fast food fried chicken considering itself in competition against one of the most elite Italian fine dining restaurants in the country is--” Hisoka’s smile turned catty. Sharp. “Quite unfair. It has a Michelin Star.”

Illumi was silent, mostly in shock, for a moment. And then he said, coolly, “Our business serves an average of 2,491 customers per day and earns upwards of eight million dollars per year. At this location alone.” Illumi tapped Hisoka’s resume with the end of his pen. “By my estimations, Revere earned a profit of under 1.2 million last year, and is slated for even less by the end of this one, and Lucilfer works in his kitchen every single night, 365 days per year, and has done so for thirty months so far. If you add the other stores in our portfolio, the Zoldyck business nets profit at almost ten million total without my father ever having to step foot inside these four walls. And we’re closed on Sundays.”

Hisoka blinked in a way that made it apparent he was tallying the numbers Illumi just shared. “You’ve done your research.”

Illumi continued, undisturbed, “You are right. It is rather unfair for me to compare Chick-Fil-A to Revere. We are not in competition.”

Hisoka slowly sank in his seat, a smirk growing on his face. He placed his chin into his hand and glanced Illumi up and down, as if reading the blue-striped polo uniform. “Interesting. Tell me--are you forced to wear the khakis, or is that something you’ve opted to do for yourself?”

Illumi stood up and wasn’t interrupted this time. He ripped the resume in two as he backed away from the table, words like ice. “This interview is over. You will not be offered the position. Thank you for your time.”

Hisoka called after him, voice a suggestive purr, “My pleasure, Illumi.”

-

Illumi stood in the doorway of his room, staring. Numb. The smell of burnt oil, of salt, of car exhaust lingered in his hair, under his nails; permeating him so entirely that he felt inhuman. He was, instead, a piece of sentient furniture from Chick-Fil-A. And he was so tired that he contemplated skipping the shower just to pass out (and clean his sheets the next day). 

But there was a problem with that plan. With any plan.

His door was gone.

“You’re going to stand there for how long, exactly?” said Milluki, his younger brother. Second oldest of the kids. Manager of the Byren neighborhood Chick-Fil-A--an under-performing, but still meticulously maintained, store. “You’re gonna have to go talk to them eventually.”

“You say, ‘them.’” Illumi turned to look at Milluki, all too aware that his dark circles and pale-sweaty skin made him look nearly sick. He had been awake for close to twenty two hours and pulled a double shift. “Mother and father both removed the door?”

“Maybe. I heard them talking.” Milluki took a slow sip of the iced tea he’d brought home from the shop. “Said they were mad you didn’t already have a replacement fry cook, or something.” He shrugged. “Really, they’re just mad about Killua, but he’s not here to be mad at.”

Illumi looked at his empty doorway. Half a hinge hung off the corner, bent from when his father must have wrenched the door away earlier. This wasn’t a rare punishment in their household. If a child behaved poorly, they got their door taken away. No privacy, at least until they served time for their crime. “I am to be punished for not posting a listing, finding a replacement, and placing him on the schedule by closing time.”

“Sounds like it,” said Milluki. “You really couldn’t find someone?”

Hisoka’s hot pink hair flashed in his mind, and then his feline smile, and his--wait, what color were his eyes? Illumi couldn’t recall. Eventually, he said,  “No.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna have a door until you hire the role. Or until Killua comes back.”

Illumi took a deep, steadying breath, and headed to his parents’ bedroom to listen to their complaints. And while his father berated him, shouting insults about his lack of focus--his patience being mistaken for fear--his affection for his staff being mistaken for condescension--his beautiful appearance being mistaken for vanity--

Illumi stared at his door, propped up on the far wall of his parents’ bedroom. It covered one of their windows, but they had several more in this wing of the fancy “McMansion” they had built after Illumi was born. 

“I won’t stand for your distraction,” Silva said with an air of finality. “Today’s failure is about your attraction to men. Isn’t it?”

Illumi blinked wide-eyed at his father. “I am sorry?”

“You’re gay, aren’t you?” his mother asked from the bed where she was tucked beneath the covers. “We’ve been discussing it. You’ve never liked a girl. Not ever. It’s because you’re gay.”

“And now your preferences are getting in the way of your judgment.”

This was so far out of left field that it took Illumi a moment to gather himself enough to say, “I am not gay.”

“Don’t you lie to me.”

“I am not,” he repeated. “I simply have not had time to pursue a relationship.”

His father threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “Oh, so now it’s my fault you’ve never gotten laid. I’m a monster, giving you a good job, at a good establishment, making good food. Yes, I’m a fucking nightmare parent.” He pointed one large, well-manicured finger into Illumi’s face, and hissed, “You have no idea how lucky you are that you were born into this family. That your whole life has been served to you on a silver fucking platter.”

“I know,” Illumi said. “I am very grateful.”

“So don’t bullshit me on your utter lack of a social life.”

Illumi looked over at his mother and saw her flexing her jaw impatiently. Eventually, the connection between today’s failures and his sexual preferences bloomed, fully-formed, in his mind. “Oh. This is because Killua moved in with his best friend.” Pause. “His gay, male best friend.”

“No. This is about you,” Silva said.

“You are wondering about all of your children, now. Whether or not we’re also gay. Did you inquire with Milluki?”

“Milluki has a girlfriend,” his mother said, shrilly. “Online. He’s our only son that we know, for certain, isn’t queer.”

She wasn’t using the word the proper way, Illumi thought. It wasn’t a reclaimed term representing a community of different people. She meant it as an insult. “I do not have time to date,” Illumi repeated. And immediately amended, “I have not made time.”

“Well, I’ll tell you this,” Silva said, stalking closer. “If you ever bring a man anywhere close to this house, you’ll lose more than your door. Do you understand?”

Illumi lowered his head. “Yessir.”

“And hire a fucking fry cook by the end of the week. Don’t make me ask again.”

-

Inside the kitchen, a timer chimed from above and below. The roar of voices--chatting, taking orders, requesting items--pressed in from all sides. Distantly, two car horns honked.

Illumi pulled the fry basket and dumped the cooked chicken into the container and hissed as a splatter of hot grease grabbed him around the wrist. The handle to the fryer slipped from his fingers and clattered to the brown tiled floor, hand spasming in pain.

Another timer. More voices. Another honk.

“Mr. Zoldyck? Hey--Mr. Zoldyck?” He ignored the burning, pulsing pain and kneeled down to scoop the handle from beneath the cabinet where it’d slid away. “Illumi!”

He stood up, hair falling free of its net, and came face-to-face with Amane. “Yes.”

“We’ve got a complaint. She wants to speak with the manager.”

Illumi looked at the fryer, the alarm continuing to chime. “It will be a minute--”

“She’s throwing quite the fit, sir--”

There was a loud clatter--the sound of a tray hitting the tiled floors in the dining room--and an ear-piercing scream that Illumi knew, as the eldest of five children, belonged to an infant. 

Amane reached out to take the fryer basket handle. “I’ll take care of the food. Go ahead.”

Illumi shook his head to clear it--he felt dazed, still. Foggy from a lack of decent sleep. The real issue with not having a door was that his enormous family’s sleep schedules all varied, so he was shocked awake only an hour or two after he finally was able to fall asleep last night.

“Mr. Zoldyck, your hair--” Amane said.

Illumi reached up and found the hair net caught around his left ear. He tugged it free and threw it, and his gloves, in the trash. He strode through the kitchen, to the dining room, and was able to find the offending woman very easily. 

“It’s an allergy!” she shrieked. “An allergy! I told you she had an allergy and now my child has puked, and if you fucking retards think I’m cleaning that up, you have another thing coming!”

The infant, Illumi noticed, was wailing alone several feet away. Red-faced and trembling in her little red mary janes. "Mamamama," she sobbed.

Illumi approached the woman with one hand outstretched, directing her away from the cashiers. “I am very, very sorry for your experience.”

The mother's rant stopped as she found herself surrounded by Illumi’s tall, unusual presence. “What?”

Without missing a beat, Illumi also managed to scoop the child up, off the floor, and into his embrace. She was small enough that he could hold her with one arm. Her child’s shrieking stopped--almost immediately. The tension inside the restaurant broke, finally. Several patrons breathed out in relief.

Illumi patted the baby sweetly upon her leg and she stared at him with a wet face, frozen in childlike awe. She sniffed and Illumi produced a napkin--branded, of course, with the iconic chicken silhouette--and wiped her nose with the practiced ease of a five-time big-brother. He said to her mom, “I will comp your meal while you have a seat.” He gestured to the only available booth, walked her there, and handed the child into her arms. 

“Well, I’m not cleaning that mess.” The woman stiffly pointed to a watery pile of debris that had already been blocked off by a caution sign. 

“We would not expect you to,” Illumi said.

“Oh. Well. Good.”

While the restaurant went back to normal, Illumi felt truly exhausted. “In addition to your refund, you have received a ban. We will take your image from security footage and if you enter this establishment again, you will be escorted out. And if necessary, I will press charges for trespassing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not allowed to call my employees fucking retards without consequence.” He looked at her daughter. “Your baby is welcome whenever she would like--as soon as she is old enough to come without you.”

He escorted her to her bright red SUV and when she sarcastically said, “Thanks a lot,” he responded very sincerely in return.

“My pleasure.”

-

His back twinged in pain as he sat in the manager’s seat in the office--closet, really, with a desk--and scrolled through security footage to find a clear image of the newly banned patron. He found her, easily--and something else he hadn’t been looking for.

A flash of hot pink hair, a fanged grin, and a handshake.

With Gotoh?

Illumi watched as Hisoka walked with Gotoh out the far side door of the restaurant. He took a deep breath, printed off the saved image of the woman, and stormed out to the parking lot where Gotoh parked every day.

He sat in the front seat, sipping a shake, tapping away at his iPhone. He didn’t even notice Illumi until he opened the passenger side door and said, “Why were you meeting with Hisoka Morow during your lunch, Gotoh.”

Gotoh jumped in surprise and relaxed immediately when he realized it was Illumi bursting into his car. He placed the shake into his cup holder and gestured for Illumi to sit. “It was a request from your father. You know him?”

“He was the candidate I interviewed yesterday. And rejected.”

Gotoh’s face turned grave. “I had no idea.”

“And you met with him because my father said to do so.”

“He didn’t say you’d already interviewed him. He just said it was the only qualified candidate our location received and that I should court him--do whatever it took to get him on board--so I did.”

“Do whatever,” Illumi echoed. “And what does this mean.”

“He can keep his pink hair, as long as it’s under a hat, and he’s starting at twenty per hour. He also requested to work your same shifts, which I told him would be no problem, since you’re here every day. He begins tomorrow morning.” Gotoh lifted his phone. “Should I call and fire him?”

Yes, Illumi almost said. He frowned in thought. “You did not find him to be an unattractive candidate?” Gotoh seemed to relax, marginally, and Illumi realized he had been speaking clipped--angrily--before. He had an intensity about himself, he knew. He’d been told many times that his ‘vibes’ were, occasionally, ‘haunting.’ (Amane’s exact words.) Illumi softened a bit as he said, “I am sorry. I thought, briefly, that you were working for the enemy.”

Gotoh gave Illumi a thin-lipped smile. “I’m loyal to the last. If I’d known this was the same guy, I would have pretended to not have seen your father’s text about it.”

“You found Hisoka to be an acceptable candidate?” he leaned forward in the seat. “I found him to be abrasive, hostile, and ignorant about the industry.”

Gotoh clicked his tongue. “My impression is quite different. He seems too qualified, if anything. He’s definitely weird, but that’s why he’s gonna be in the back.”

“He did not like me,” Illumi said. “I do not think he will respect me as manager.”

Gotoh’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Again--my impression is…different.”

“Explain.”

“That was one of his stipulations, I said. He will only work shifts with you.”

“Why?”

“He has aspirations to run a restaurant of his own one day, he said. He wanted to learn from the Zoldycks themselves. I figured you’d enjoy having another employee with bigger aspirations within the company--when you’ll likely graduate to regional manager next month, you’ll need good minds here.” Gotoh rocked his phone back and forth midair. “But we can tell him ‘nevermind'. I’ll call him now.”

“No. It is fine.”

Gotoh hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Well, your shift is over, Lumi. You want me to drive you home?”

Illumi shook his head. “I need the walk.”

Gotoh scoffed. “Do you? You’ve been up since, what, five? It’s nearly three in the afternoon.”

No. He was very tired. Illumi gave Gotoh a small, slightly strained, smile. “Thank you, Gotoh. I will enjoy the walk. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Along with Hisoka,” said Gotoh.

Illumi left the car and ignored the way his back twinged, yet again.

[blxckchxrrybxby]

6 Months In Advance

summary: In the midst of sorting out a scheduling mishap, your daughter wanders away from you and makes her way up to HR.

pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Reader + Reader’s Daughter

warning(s): idek; mentions doctor? Scoliosis?

a/n: dude, I didn't revise this at all. Just brain vomit.

Six months.

That’s how far in advance you had planned for this appointment.

It was written in your planner, saved as a reminder on your phone, and circled in red ink on the calendar hanging in your cubicle. Yet, with barely an hour to spare, you found yourself in the main lobby of Kineros Robotics instead; demanding to speak with the men you worked for. The same men who were responsible for fucking up your work schedule and threatening to fire you on the spot if you didn’t come in.

You frowned, pacing as you checked the time anxiously. They couldn’t possibly fire you for a mistake on their behalf. You were more than 99% positive that you had taken this day off as soon as you were given the job. Hell, you had even mentioned it to them before an offer letter was—well—offered!

“Mommy?” Your daughter whispered, interrupting your thoughts with curiosity twinkling in her eyes. She took in the large building that seemed never-ending.

“Yes, sweet pea?” You replied gently (certain to make sure the stress you emitted wouldn’t be absorbed by your own innocent offspring).

“Where are we?” Her doe eyes were far too busy scanning the environment to pay any attention to you—causing you to let out a chuckle.

“At my job. I just need to talk to some friends really quick then we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded, accepting your words, and stared in astonishment at how different the world inside this building looked to her. It was nothing like the world in your cramped apartment. That world was far too small to compare, but her favorite stuffed animals resided there—so it was home. The building was nothing like the one where you dropped her off at to learn her ABC’s either. It was full of big people and not enough kids. Peering at the environment, her heart sunk at the sudden revelation—this place didn’t even have toys!

Despite how impressive this adult world was, it would never impress her more than recess.  

“Uh…why are you here? And why aren’t you two at the doctor’s?” Your coworker (and only friend) asked after spotting you. Their shoes tapped faintly against the floor as they walked closer; holding their arms out to retrieve the bundled-up 5-year-old perched on your hip.

You looked at them with stress evident on your face, “Jeff and Mutt messed up the timesheet.”

They gasped, now holding the child securely against their own hip, “You’re joking.”

“If I were joking, I wouldn’t be standing right here, now would I?” You scoffed at the reality of your situation as your friend shook their head.

“The nerve of those two. On today of all days!”

You nodded, rubbing at your face. Before being granted the chance to respond, the receptionist informed you that Jeff and Mutt were ready to speak with you.

“Thanks, Marcy.” You replied politely and went to grab your daughter before your friend swatted your hand away. Your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“You’re stressing enough. Just go talk to them. I’ll keep Willow safe and show her around since she seems so… intrigued.”

You both looked at your daughter, who was still eyeing every little detail of the building and chuckled.

“Fine. I’ll come to find you guys when I’m done.” You quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss to Willow’s cheek before scurrying to go see Jeff and Mutt.

Watching you disappear into the elevator, Willow was carried away from the main lobby. As time passed, she met many unfamiliar faces. Most of which slid peppermints into her small hands when y/f/n wasn’t looking, in the hopes of befriending the tiny human. After seeing most of the people on the first floor, Willow grew curious about what other adventures the building held.

Perhaps the top floors weren’t meant for children. Maybe goblins stomped all around guarding their treasures. Or maybe they were full of queens and kings, and the workers were the peasants! As her imagination grew wilder, Willow found herself itching to explore. Squirming in the uncomfortable office chair, she pouted at y/f/n.

“What’s wrong?” They asked, noticing how much your daughter was fidgeting.

“I have to potty.” Willow whined, coming up with the perfect excuse.

They blinked, “Oh, um. Okay... do you remember where the bathroom is at?”

Willow nodded and slid off the chair.

“When you’re done, come right back. I’ll be here waiting, okay?”

Again, Willow nodded before darting off. After passing the bathroom and sneaking past Marcy, Willow made her way onto the elevator. She grinned, pulling out a peppermint and shoving it into her mouth, before slamming her hand against one of the highest numbers. Willow giggled, enjoying the feeling of the elevator moving. It felt like she was on a rollercoaster, and it made her tummy feel funny. Maybe this place was better than recess!

Hearing a ding, the elevator doors opened, and out stepped Willow; instantly bumping into a pair of long legs. With a small, “oof!” her hands managed to grasp onto some fabric. A hesitant hand pressed against her back to keep her balance. Out of curiosity, Willow glanced to the side to see a cane, then glanced up as a woman dressed in purple stared down in slight shock.

“And who are you?”

Willow blinked, gently letting go of the stranger’s skirt, and adjusting her lavender glasses. Tilting her head, she observed as much of the woman as she could. Since the woman wore purple, Willow figured she must be the queen. Purple was for royalty, after all. However, Willow wasn’t naïve. Not all queens are good, she reminded herself.

“I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

Wilhemina arched an eyebrow, smoothing down her skirt, “Neither should I. Yet here we are.” Huffing to herself, she looked around at her trembling assistant and the empty floor before shaking her head. “Follow me.”

As the queen, and trembling girl of whom Willow assumed to be her servant, began to walk away, Willow remained still; unsure of if she should follow the stranger. Noticing the only footsteps that could be heard were her own, Wilhemina halted and glanced back at the frozen child.

“Are you hard of hearing?”

Willow gnawed at her lip nervously and asked innocently, “…are you taking me to the dungeon?”

“Dun- Excuse me?” Wilhemina asked, more confused than she already was.

“You’re the queen, right?”

Wilhemina’s shock wore off and she chuckled, recognizing how wild the child’s imagination was. “Well, that’s one way to put it. Unfortunately, I don’t get paid enough to own a dungeon…yet. Now, come along before I abandon you in this hallway.” Scurrying after them, Willow grinned happily.

-

Standing in the stranger’s office, Willow looked up at the tall woman as she entered the room. “Do you have candy?”

Venable walked past the child and sat in her chair, “Even if I did, would your parents let you have it this early in the morning?”

Willow shrugged, “I only have one mommy.”

Venable took note of this; Mentally scanning through the employees in her head to guess whom this child could belong to. “Well, would your mother let you?”

Willow paused in thought, “No?”

“Alright then.”

-

As time passed, Wilhemina allowed Willow to get settled until her mother showed up to retrieve her. Alerts were sent out to inform the staff of a misplaced entity with two missing front teeth, now in her possession. Now, all Wilhemina had to do was wait for the culprit to show up at her office door. However, this was taking longer than Venable thought it would and the minor was oddly quiet. Especially considering she didn’t have any objects to keep children tame.

The anxiety of not knowing what the child was doing caused Venable to peer over her purple laptop and observe the little germ sitting on her lovely lavender couch (a fine touch and new addition to her workspace). She wasn’t used to the unpredictability of children. However, to her surprise, the little girl was already staring at her with a crossword book open on her petite lap. Venable furrowed her eyebrows as the curly-haired child adjusted her purple glasses back onto the bridge of her small nose. This little stunt warmed her heart to no end, yet she’d never admit it.

“Can I help you with something?” Venable asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

The little girl shrugged and continued to stare.

Lowering her glasses, she sighed. “I’m assuming your mother has yet to teach you that staring is rude.”

“I wouldn’t stare if you were not pretty.” Willow stated plainly.

Venable tensed and cleared her throat. “You know nothing about what society sees as pretty.”

Willow frowned, “I don’t know who so-so-“

“Society.”

“-socility-“

“Try again. So-cie-ty.” Venable stated, slowing down her enunciation.

“-socie…um.” Willow tried.

“Take your time.”

“…s-society?”

“Correct.” Venable held back a smile. Willow didn��t. She was proud of her accomplishment. A new word she could tell her friends about.

“I don’t know who…society is, but I think you’re pretty.”

“Well.” Venable began, choosing to keep her insecurities to herself. “I suppose I should thank you.”

“Mommy says you don’t have to always say thank you when people tell you nice things.”

“That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” Venable questioned, becoming more invested in the conversation than she would like to admit.

“No.” Willow stated bluntly.

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Venable arched an eyebrow, trying to piece together who the child’s mother could be.

“Ms. Benavle?”

Venable internally cringed from the mispronunciation. “Yes, child?”

Willow shifted, turning her body towards the awaiting woman, “What does society mean?”

-

Minutes continued to pass as Venable watched over the child. At first, she assumed the little brat was a prodigy, highlighting words at lightning speed in the crossword book. Then, after watching the page become consumed in purple highlighter, her assumptions were tossed out of the window. The child merely enjoyed coloring.

A slight knock caught her attention, breaking her out of the trance she was in. Perhaps it was the child’s mother.

“Come in,” Wilhemina called out, watching in disappointment as her intern opened the door.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Venable. Um, I just had a f-few more questions about the t-time off requests you wanted me to finish-“

Now standing from her desk and approaching the intern as if she were prey, Venable sneered.

“I understand that you are mediocre at best and the tasks assigned to you may be tedious—however—I can assure you that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to complete them. Now, as you can see, I am with child.” Her hand barely outstretched to point towards Willow, “Go be stupid somewhere else. Preferably on the first floor.”

As the intern scurried out of the office, Willow grimaced and crossed her arms at the tall lady. Venable glanced in her direction and arched an eyebrow, “What?”

“You shouldn’t say bad words.”

With a scoff, Wilhemina retreated back to her desk, “Last I checked, I didn’t.”

“Yuhuh, you just did.”

As her ungloved fingers rubbed at the throbbing temple, she hoped to rid herself of the headache that resided in her head and on the couch across from her.

“And what word was it, exactly?”

Willow blinked; eyes widening in surprise. “You’re letting me say it? Mommy said I shouldn’t say it.”

This caused Venable to snort in amusement. After catching her reaction, she cleared her throat. How odd. “How else will I know what I’ve said unless you tell me?”

Looking around, in case it was a trap, Willow swiftly ran up to Venable, stood on her tippy toes to reach her ear, and whispered, “…stupid.”

Wilhemina closed her eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend how she managed to end up in a situation such as this.

-

As the clock neared Venable’s first break and the child remained in her ownership, she sighed.

“Tell me something, little one.”

Venable’s sudden conversation caught Willow’s attention, causing her to perk up in curiosity.

“Why exactly are you here?”

Willow shrugged and looked down at her hands, “I don’t know. I was going to see the doctor, but mommy came here.”

Wilhemina hummed to herself, trying to piece together why the child had been roaming the building unattended. “An appointment, you say?” She looked through her emails, feeling a hint of deja vu. Something about this was vaguely familiar.

“Yes. I get a new brace today!” This caused Venable to arch an eyebrow, “Hopefully it’s purple like this one! Want to see?” Venable remained silent as the child began to unzip her bubble coat. As she shimmied it off of her petite shoulders, the back brace came into view, launching Venable into a state of paralyzation. “See? It’s very pretty.”

She knew this felt familiar. This was Willow. As HR, Venable was well aware of the subordinates and their beneficiaries. She was also aware of any time off requests submitted. Within the past year, Kineros had onboarded so many new faces that she ignored or denied at least 70% of the time off requests within the first week. It was either you work or you find another place to pay your bills. However, some of the accruing requests must have slipped through her fingers. Something she rarely ever fell victim to. Especially after reading something as detailed as Willow’s mother’s.

“Hello? Ms. Benavle?”

Wilhemina blinked; hearing Willow capture her attention once more. She quickly searched through her files and found the denied time-off request. The only issue was, she didn’t remember denying it. Clicking on the document, it slowly brought up the pdf, showing that it had been stamped with her credentials; meaning she didn’t formally sign it.

Her intern did.

“Shit!” She groaned.

Willow gasped, “Bad word!”

Ignoring her and standing from the chair, Venable quickly made her way toward the door. “Follow me.”

Willow quickly grabbed her coat and followed along, “Where are we going?”

Walking with intention as her cane collided firmly with the floor, Wilhemina pressed the elevator button, “To find your mother.”

-

As the elevator opened to the ground floor and Venable stood with a cane in one hand and Willow’s hand in the other, they both descended into the lobby. You and your friend scurried around, panicking at the fact that there was a lost five-year-old in the building. “How in the hell did you lose her?!”

“She’s sneaky!” your friend retorted.

“She’s five!” you fumed.

Venable arched an eyebrow and held Willow close, before clearing her throat.

 Your friend gasped, seeing Willow with Venable, as did you.

“Oh God, Willow! Baby, where were you??” You worried, as she ran over to you and gave you a hug. Rubbing her back, you sighed in relief.

“With me.” Venable interrupted, “May I have a word with you, y/n?”

You nodded, picking Willow up in your arms, and walked away with Venable.

“I am beyond sorry for everything that’s happened. I swear, this will never happen again, Ms. Venable.”

“Why not?” Venable inquired.

You paused, unsure of how to continue—so she did. “This, no matter how unusual it was, was entirely my fault.” You remained silent and equally dumbfounded. “I extend an apology to both you and Willow. It seems my stupid-“ Willow glared causing Venable to clear her throat, “My incompetent intern did not know better and denied your request. I remembered it. Not that it matters, as it’s potentially too late. However, I understand how difficult it is to get an appointment for these kinds of things. If you would like… I have a doctor who would be more than ecstatic to treat Willow as soon as possible.”

You remained silent. At a complete loss for words.

“As fond as I am of silence, I believe a conversation must include two willing parties.”

Willow nudged you, helping you come back to your senses as Venable awaited a response. “I… I’d love that. However, I’d prefer it now… Um, they informed me that since I’m refusing to work today, this is grounds for termination.”

“Nonsense,” Venable stated, completely unphased. “I will have a word with those two imbeciles, and you needn’t worry about a thing.”

You nodded with a slight blush adorning your cheeks as Willow squirmed from your arms and made her way over to Venable, hugging her legs, “I’ll miss you Ms. Benavle.”

With a chuckle, Wilhemina caressed the child’s head. “I will miss you as well, Willow.” Sliding a piece of peppermint out of her pocket, she handed it to Willow with the whisper of a smile adorning her lips. “Come back and visit whenever.”

[where-i-overanalyze]

the significant lack of parents in Soul Eater and how the DWMA combats that

obviously, there are some parents present throughout the entirety of Soul Eater, but they truly are not amongst the greatest: Medusa, Spirit, Lord Death (he's okay in comparison to everyone else, but still not dad of the year). i started this just wanting to talk about how there are almost no parents and then ended up realizing some sorta nice things about the DWMA by the end of it. manga spoilers, so beware.

characters who have living parents

let's start with Maka since she's the only one who has one parent present and one parent mentioned in somewhat detail. Spirit certainly is quite the character; he has almost no redeemable qualities except for the fact that he does actually love and support his child. that's all good, and yet he cannot correct his behavior to actually make himself a person that his daughter will respect. he cares so much and yet he does nothing to try and be a better father for her and what she actually needs from a parent.

but then we have Maka's "wonderful" unnamed mother. great mom, great meister, never given an example as to what this woman could really be like. i haven't been into Soul Eater for super long and i'm sure there are definitely people who have been shitting on Maka's mom, but it's interesting to me purely because even though there aren't many parents in Soul Eater to begin with, there is an even more extreme lack of mothers. i'm going to get nebulous with the definition throughout this post, but it really just seems like the "idea" of a good mother is all the characters get. Maka only gets memories of how great her mother was, maybe because she truly wasn't that great in the first place. a meister who made a death scythe is never to be seen throughout the greatest threat of all time within the past 800 years, not even to check on her one daughter? maybe she's busy? sure. idc what she's doing, but that's a strike out for me.

moving away from Maka's dubious parents, let's look at Kid and Lord Death. in truth, he's not nearly as bad as the other parents in terms of actual parenting, but he is clearly much different in relation to the other parents. he's not human, he's in charge of seemingly their entire world, and Kid is essentially just a chunk of Lord Death that was given sentience. with that, we have to think of exactly what is it that death gods even need in order to be raised. since Asura was a failed attempt, Kid was specifically "born with a childish nature so he [could] learn fear, much like humans" (DTK Soul Eater Wiki page). am i really citing a source in my Tumblr post, is this who i am. SO, thinking about what death gods are meant to do with their power and the fact that they are meant to keep balance in the world, i'd say that Lord Death did a pretty good job of getting Kid to become the best death god he could be. when it comes to actual "normal" parenting standards, idek if we can hold Lord Death up to those since they both are very much not normal. keeping Kid in the dark about some insanely important details about the academy (the Kishin in the basement) and letting Kid know that Lord Death would die when he awoke his true powers, maybe not the best choice, but i'll admit that i'm an extremist when it comes to people keeping important secrets that could have saved everyone a lot of time and trouble.

actually, i take some of my positive statements back when thinking about how Lord Death handled Asura. i know Asura was all powerful and just sort of super insane, but given the fact that Asura was a failed attempt of a fragment and Kid was Lord Death's way of trying again, it feels kind of wrong to give him a title of Decent Dad when his first attempt at making a young death god ended up so so so messed up. also, making a second one just in the hopes of solving your first mess up, kinda fucked up.

anyways, Tsubaki! she's honestly very interesting because we know that both of her parents are alive, but we see almost NOTHING about them. the only time we actually see her dad is in chapter 49 and that's basically it. her mom is mentioned, but we never even get to see her or get her name, so once again there is just no mother present at all and just the "idea" of her. given the fact that they pretty much neglected their other child to the point that he became a serial killer because he wasn't treated the same as Tsubaki, i can't give them much credit for good parenting. maybe Tsubaki came out okay and mild-mannered, but Masamune straight up just got neglected and went bonkers because of it.

and now we reach the grand finale of horrible present parents, Crona and Medusa. debated about putting her in the "dead parents" category, but Medusa is alive for the majority of Soul Eater, so she can stay here. obviously, Medusa's the absolute worst. she literally never has any good intentions for anything she does with Crona, she's extremely manipulative, blatantly abusive, etc. she literally dangles the concept of being a good mother in front of Crona to get them to obey her and in the end that gets her killed (and yet that STILL was part of her plan. she's literally insane). she also tricks other people into helping her by pretending she's worried about Crona. she contributes the mother "idea" again, though this time she is very present, just not as a good mother. i won't go into all the shit that Medusa did, we all know she was horrible. i go into more of Medusa's manipulation in this post.

characters who have dead parents

Black☆Star, i think, is the only character of the main cast that has confirmed dead parents. he never knew any of his clan and sort of renounces them (maybe renounce isn't the right word, but his whole character arc about choosing his own path and defeating Mifune makes it somewhat clear that he doesn't want to end up like his parents). we know about his father, White☆Star, but once again, the mother is never mentioned. from what we're shown . . . yeah, the Star clan sucked and were obsessed with power and whatnot. it's an interesting contrast with Tsubaki: they both come from very well known family lines with very different connotations surrounding them. to an outsider who knows about both of their families, it probably seems a bit sacrilegious for Black☆Star to be partnered with her in the first place.

characters whose parents are MIA

Liz and Patty at least have an "unnamed woman" shown as their mother for a single panel in chapter 78. the "prettiest prostitute in New York" obviously didn't do much to raise them since they were the Brooklyn Devils for a while. no mention of a father and an evidently absent mother, we are once again hit with the "idea" of a mother that isn't there. Liz literally says she hates her mother, thanks her for bringing her and Patty into existence, and nothing else is said about her. it's only after they get sorta "drafted" by Kid that they get to live a pleasant life. there's obviously also some things to say about economic status and being dealt a bad hand in life and whatnot, but i can get into that another time i think.

now, Soul. homie has got NO PARENTS EVER MENTIONED. the closest we get is Wes and unnamed grandma who is never shown. he's literally the only character we don't get shit for who his parents are, where they are, if they're even living and i think that speaks volumes. going off of assumptions, the fact that Soul literally renounced his family name, ran away to go to weapon school, and didn't play the piano for years until he was able to do it, sort of, on his own terms most likely means that his parents were some kind of horrible. also, being forced to play into a family legacy has got to be unhealthy. always feeling overshadowed by your older sibling who, obviously, has more experience is upsetting, but the fact that Soul was seemingly never reassured about his skills is dubious at best. i have strong feelings about forcing children into family legacies, maybe that can be its own post some day as well, and if your kid feels like they actually have to run away to escape it, well then i don't think it works out very well. it's incredibly important that we don't get any parental information from Soul and that we never hear anything about anyone from his family looking for him. maybe he told them he was leaving, but maybe he just slipped away and nobody bothered to look for him.

actual parental figures

while writing this, i realized that everyone in this category is a DWMA professor. DWMA as a whole seems to provide all of the main cast with a place to be that was much better than where they came from. Black☆Star and Maka sort of grew up in and around the DWMA, Soul, Liz, and Patty all came from much worse places before enrolling, Tsubaki and Kid kinda seem like they were chilling tbh, and of course Crona literally experiences positive emotions for the first time during their short time there. schools, ideally, should give their students the opportunity to grow in their skills and find a community with the students and teachers so that they can have an overall positive experience.

Marie is definitely the best example of this and despite the fact that she isn't even a mother (i refuse to acknowledge the unborn baby in chapter 113, most of that chapter is a black stain in my memory that even bleach couldn't remove), she is easily the healthiest mother figure in the entire series. she actually cares about the students even though she was initially reluctant to be a teacher. she worries about their wellbeing, she talks to them about their problems, and overall she is the closest to that "idea" of a mother that keeps showing up. i think part of this is because she sort of realizes that she has this power of being a teacher and a death scythe, but also there are points where she realizes she can't be reckless because she has to be there for the students (thinking specifically about the tempest and how she knows she can't go back in there to save them). she leaves an impression on Crona and she's one of the few people they actually remember Medusa's second wave of experiments she does on them. Crona saw her as a good, supportive person and it continually haunts them that they betrayed her. it's the exact opposite relationship they have with Medusa; Marie is only kind and understanding to Crona when they expect betrayal and hatred, and Medusa is only cruel when all Crona needed was some sort of . . . well, anything healthy.

Stein is interesting to me because he's more of a fun uncle than a "father" in my eyes. he doesn't coddle his students and sometimes he's a bit harsh with them, but this is purely because he knows they can achieve things they don't realize they're capable of. by the end of the manga, he fully acknowledges that, wow, these kids are pretty good at all of this!!! and i taught them this shit!!! go kids!!! now, all of this being said, i do not think he could be a real, healthy father unless someone sucked out all the madness in his brain out with a straw. even with no madness, i doubt he'd want kids because he's got all these spunky students to supervise. this is also why i refuse to acknowledge the chapter 113 unborn baby, i think Stein would know he couldn't be a father and gave himself a vasectomy.

finally, i want to talk a bit about Sid. i wish so badly that the manga went into some more detail about him practically raising Black☆Star after the DWMA eliminated the Star clan. they don't treat each other like father and son, but it's clear that Sid at least cared enough to make sure he was raised and trained well. it makes the mission where Sid and Naigus go into the Arachnophobia lab to destroy the machine and Black☆Star shows up kind of more interesting since Sid's like "Whoever that student is, thank god they're here" and then he's like "Wait a damn minute, that's MY student." it's also nice to see when Sid's proud of him and whatnot. i just like this dynamic they have where it's like not fully familial, but they're more than just a mentor and mentee.

in an attempt to come to a final point, i that the DWMA really gives something to all these characters that they needed and lacked in their familial situations. sounds cheesy and it is, but i find it so nice that such a pleasant and supportive school structure is found in a universe in which people turn into weapons and fight horrors and the school is training all these kids to fight horrors. Maka gets to chase after these legendary stories she's heard about her mother, and becomes arguably more successful than her mother. Soul gets the chance to make his own path outside of the family name he's abandoned and also gets to reclaim his music along the way. Black☆Star and Tsubaki get to be this duo that allows them to kind of get out of these super old expectations of their bloodlines and by working together they get to subvert these expectations and prove people wrong about the type of people they want to be. Liz and Patty got to escape the shitty holes they'd been born into and actually be people they were proud of. Kid was able to actually understand other people, to an extent, and it made him capable of becoming the next death god. The actual human kindness that Crona was shown there is eventually what lets them sacrifice themself for everyone else since they know that it will bring good in the end. the students in Soul Eater may have some real shit parents, but the DWMA is apparently there to fill in the void of those parents.

thank you for joining me for another long af Soul Eater post. i think my next endeavor will be tackling how the manga timeline works, b/c it's pretty fucked up imo

[ahoyimlosingmymind]

About lava cake, I want to hear your thoughts about how Marella, as a pyrokinetic, is technically considered talentless in the matchmaking system. Therefore making Fitz and Marella a bad match. How do you think Fitz would react when he realizes this, knowing this could end up in a similar way to Sophitz?

-lava cake anon #2 ;)

Oooo this is a hard one. I'm open to any thoughts!!! @autistic-daydreamer @myfairkatiecat @sacrificialloving

What I'm about to write is so half-baked, I apologize in advance lmao I think it would begin with Alden or Della pulling him to the side and noting how much time he's been spending with Marella-- at this point, Fitz knows he has feelings for her, but he's also very aware of the ramifications. They remind him how important his reputation is, and how it will hurt not only him, but Marella, her family and his own.

He doesn't want this to end the way it did with Sophie. He doesn't want to care about it. But he does- especially as his age creeps closer and closer to the time he's expected to have a winnowing gala. For a while, he starts to distance himself from Marella.

And because she knows him so well, she clocks the reason almost immediately. However, she doesn't confront him on it immediately like she normally would. Because part of her is just as terrified of being a bad match. she doesn't want to hurt his reputation either. She doesn't want to ruin his life. And really, she doesn't want to handle the scorn either. They've talked about it in the past, how big of a deal it is to do things by the book.

But the desire to be with one another is so powerful, that at some point- Fitz takes a leaf out of Keefe's book- finds a forbidden cities leaping crystal and asks Marella to go to the human world with him. It's stupid and reckless. He's never done anything like this. But he's really starting to feel trapped, and well-- he's not friends with Keefe for no reason. He understands his childhood bestfriend's desire to run. He's just never been brave enough to do it before.

But this situation is the final nail in the coffin. And he's just like 'Well, let's seen if Keefe's method really works.' (it's the first time he feels he's ever done something for himself. It's freeing. and terrifying.)

Marella agrees to go with him after a few weeks of radio silence. Because in the human world they can just be. They both agree that this will be their final hurrah, and then, they wont pursue anything with one another. They'll follow the paths laid out for them. However, this does not work, and they end up just secretly dating-- the lie dangling over their heads.

Fitz, of course, realizes he's a hypocrite for it. For suddenly being so willing to do this with Marella, where he wasn't with Sophie. His whole life he has been watched and seen as an image. But Marella is the first girl to truly see through to who he really is, and to shed the false perceptions she had of him early on in their friendship. Whereas, part of him- though he denied it at the time- always felt like Sophie also saw him as perfect in many ways. It was an idea she wasn't quite ready to let go of when it came to him- It feels different with Marella. And besides, Sophie has Keefe now. (but of course, Sophie is still hurt by this when she finds out. Not enough to cause friendship ruining drama, but definitely like 'damn ok ig' lol)

Marella gets exposed as a pyrokinetic at some point, which leads to massive scorn, on top of people finding out they're together.

It's a mess. They probably break up a few times in between everything-- but then one day, things calm down. The Neverseen is defeated, and real societal changes are made, and while it isn't perfect, you can't erase a way of thinking completely, it makes it easier.

Or maybe they just fake their deaths and go to live among humans idek

[valentine-writes]

ur writing is super good!! sorry if i’m piling on with this, but any angst with miguel? i need this man put in a blender

if you need to be mean

「 tws + notes: vv possibly ooc, unedited, spider-person reader, unhealthy dynamic, assorted angst, hurt/comfort ending, reader is cold, miguel doesn't know how to deal with emotions, everyone is a wreck but they're all trying so hard :( </3 」

「 gn!reader, man idek if this is platonic or romantic tbh y'all r just messy here 」

↳ ft. miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099

author's note: THANK U SM!! and i got u!!! i am. so excited 2 practice more for him– anon please don't be upset w/ me,, but,,, (´∩｀。),,, i physically don't think i can write Pure Angst. i wud b no good at it!! :p so! hurt/comfort in the end ๐·°(৹˃̵﹏˂̵৹)°·๐ i CANT JUS,, END IT SAD,, </3 i am so so sorry!! also so so real putting him in tha blender at the Highest Speed ever,,, he iz my milk webkin fr (lovingly) (kinda) some real quick stuff: this was gonna b short but i Overdid It and im still unsure whether i like it or not. and also. i was supposed to have the reader being mildly Messed Up™️ too cuz "hehehehe letz make this more difficult >:))" (also becuz miguel is NOT the only one allowed to have issues + too many angsts i have read where reader jus takes what miguel dishes out passively and i didn't want that) BUT I ENDED UP MAKING IT WORSE AJDHDQWHJE,,, hopefully this is. angst galore. again i am not great w this <( _ _ )> <//3

▸ maintaining a healthy relationship with miguel– in any form– proves to be difficult.

this is especially prevalent in the beginning stages of your developing relationship. you begin to learn that he is terrible with verbally expressing any affection he feels towards you. some days he seems almost so completely distant that there’s valid reason to worry that he just doesn't care about you anymore.

these worries are the furthest thing from the truth– miguel hasn't cared about someone to this extent in a while. still, he finds himself lacking, completely unable to tell you how much you mean to him.

▸ sometimes he grows fearful that he's become too attached to you. he aware he's in too deep at this point, yet conflict rages on in his mind: whether it's better to hold on as tight as he can to keep you in his life, or let you go before something rips you away from him.

part of him is worried it's only a matter of time before something happens.

these thoughts are usually quelled by drowning himself in tasks and missions, using his focus on work as a means of distraction.

when there's nothing left to shut them out, he chooses to avoid you instead of seeking reassurance.

there are times when you don't see him for days straight. he doesn't send you on any missions, doesn't contact you, actively avoids you when you're inside of the HQ– and when you eventually see him again, he avoids speaking of it. you both understand you're meant to pretend like nothing happened.

you're not beyond doing the same to him. miguel is distraught with how similar you two can be, how you reflect him and he reflects you in unique and awful ways– ways that only the two of you can understand.

▸ whenever you choose to be the one to spontaneously ditch, however,,, there are moments where he gets desperate and ends with him seeking you out,, usually by assigning you a mission just so you have a reason to come back

no matter who leaves– whether it's you or miguel– you both end up taking each other back in the end, half-heartedly reaching the unspoken agreement that this is the way you two “reconcile.” you grow accustomed to this back and forth.

you're both wonder who this is hurting more.

▸ never wants to be seen as clingy or needy. wants to convince himself he can make it on his own, that things are somehow better that way. miguel feels a deep frustration in the fact that he can't seem to process his emotions in a proper manner.

he seeks solace in solitude, even if it never fully works. he's willing to settle with feeling "okay" instead of "better." (self isolation moment.)

asking for help on missions is one thing. asking for personal help is another, which means that offering him support on his bad days is always a hit or miss.

most of the time, if someone chooses to extend their hand to him, it's typical that he swats it away and insists he doesn't need anything. he doesn't accept help easily– even when it's from you.

▸ there's always the off chance he lets you stick around. he's silent as you find a place for the two of you to sit down. once he’s comfortable, he leans against your side.

the quiet in the room isn't tense. it isn't scary. you know he just doesn't want to talk about what’s bothering him often. he can't even verbalize how much you mean to him– how is he meant to explain any of his other emotions to you?

"it's okay." you whisper, breaking the silence in the room. "just... take your time."

even though your words are as soft you can manage, it feels like you're yelling in contrast to his complete wordless state. you glance over at him. miguel doesn't meet your gaze.

"i'll be here for you," his expression softens ever so slightly at your words as you reassure him, "i promise."

he only mutters one word in response: "don't."

▸ (next headcanon based off of this art from instagram. slide two specifically.)

you can still remember the first time he ever cried in front of you. it's been a vivid memory in your head ever since it happened– not because of why it happened– but because of how it happened.

"you haven't been around for days, miguel." it's been almost more than a week since you've last seen him. this time, you sought him out– not to bring him back into your life, but to confront him one last time. after deliberating for longer than you cared to mention, you finally decided you were going to make things right or get out of his life for good.

and there he is, standing on his platform. it's lowered to the ground, the orange holographic screens surrounding him empty, displaying nothing. they emit a soft glow in the dark of the room.

"tell me what's wrong." you demand. the tone in your voice is unfamiliar to him. you're not making any effort to conceal how thin your patience has been wearing.

his back is turned to you. he doesn't say a word until you approach the lowered platform he stands on.

"go away."

"what? like you've been doing this entire time?" you retort.

"go away." he repeats more forcefully. his anger doesn't scare you away. nothing ever does.

you stare at him unflinchingly. "not until you tell me what's wrong."

miguel knows you're going to stand firm. you're going to stay until he tells you. as he lifts his head, glancing over his shoulder to speak to you, you brace yourself– you wait for him to yell. to lash out. anything.

he just looked at you. his eyes, stinging with tears, meeting your stare.

you don't remember what was hurting him that day. you can't recall what made him breakdown in front of you. no, this is the part you remember.

miguel's large frame looks so much smaller as he attempts to shrink himself, as if trying to hide from you. he averts his gaze, trying to blink back the tears and fails horribly.

he has nothing left to do. miguel hides his face in his hand, even if it’s only the two of you in the room. he’s humiliated– completely ashamed– that he can’t seem to stop his crying. for a moment, you’re frozen, unsure of what to do.

it's a drastic change from how you know him. standing in front of you, miguel seems more like an inconsolable child, rather than the detached and icy person most knew him as.

"don't look at me." those are the only audible words miguel manages to choke out between stifled sobs. he cries like a little boy.

and you hate it. you hate how hard he makes it hard to stay angry at him. you hate that no matter what you do, you can't stay away.

the tension in your body dissolves slowly, jaw unclenching as you sigh to yourself. you’re caving already.

it takes you a moment, but you know you can't leave him like this.

slowly approaching him, you quietly wrap your arms around him from behind, gentle enough for him to pull away from your touch if he didn't want it. he doesn't protest. you swear you can feel him subconsciously lean in.

"it's okay," you mutter, "i got you."

▸ miguel makes sure to talk to you the next day after you comforted him. to your surprise, it wasn't to tell you to keep that moment between the two of you– he knew you well enough to know you wouldn't say a word.

he was there to say thank you. simple and plain as that. he thanked you for sticking around. thanked you for being there even though he constantly pushed you away.

and you couldn't find the energy to respond. horribly disheartening to miguel, considering this is the most effort he had put in to communicate with you– but understandable. he didn't push you any further.

as awful as it felt to know, you didn't want a thank you. you didn't need his gratitude for your stubbornness.

it was much too late for a thank you to resolve the days he left you without a word, only to return expecting everything to be the same. it was much too late for a thank you to make you feel better about the fact you ended up comforting him even after everything. those words couldn't fix anything.

you wanted a goddamn apology.

▸ it's been almost three weeks since you'd last been seen around the spider society hq.

nobody seemed to be aware of the reason for your sudden disappearance. miguel was worried sick.

his temper is shorter, his patience is waning, and he’s willing to snap if anyone even mildly irritates him. it’s an unpleasant experience for everyone.

he'd tried to find you by tracking your watch, which proved to be useless. you were too clever for that– you'd made yourself undetectable, somehow disabling or destroying it before you left. miguel could’ve hunted you down, searching every place in the multiverse to find you again, once more to see you. but he didn't have to. the moment he had decided to start the search, your watch went active again, allowing him to locate where you were. like you were beckoning him over.

he didn’t hesitate to meet you there, stepping through a portal to get to you. notably, you weren’t in your own universe– but he wasn’t going to scold you for that. not now.

there you were. it was almost dream-like to him, seeing you sitting in the grassy fields in the middle of nowhere, the outline of your frame illuminated by the moonlight. the night air was filled with tension, as you sensed him approach from behind and quietly sit beside you.

he’s the one to break the silence. your name slips from his lips, as he’s about to speak up–

"hey." you greeted flatly, cutting him off. you glance at him with a weak smile, chuckling dryly. "so... you need something?"

"...no." miguel glanced around at the unfamiliar setting. just before he can get anything out, you part your lips to speak again, looking up at the dark sky, glittering above the two of you.

“i forget that new york doesn’t have the best view of the stars.” you murmur. “light pollution and all that shit… so y’know,, this is nice. i missed this type of view.”

he nods in agreement, though the small talk about the stars isn’t what he wanted from you.

you continue with your little ramble, seemingly just saying whatever came to mind. “speaking of cities– how’s your corner of the multiverse been? has nueva york been fine? feels like forever since i’ve been there.”

miguel tries not to be distracted by your casual conversation or your obvious allusions to your absence. he sees the way your shoulders are held tense, the way your gaze flits over at him expectantly– miguel knows you’re just waiting for him to talk about it, anticipating what he’s oing to say next.

"i– look–” he takes in a breath, finding the words he had been planning to say all this time. “i know. i know i messed up, and i messed up a lot. …i just came here to tell you i'm sorry. for everything."

there’s a momentary lapse of silence between the two of you. the tension is immeasurable as he watches you shift your sitting position, facing him entirely.

"you should be. asshole."

miguel sighs. “i… really should’ve expected that.”

“you know, migs? i tried so hard to just leave you alone.” the previous confidence in your voice wavers. there’s no bitterness in your words, no malice. he hears it in your tone: you’re just worn down, utterly emotionally exhausted.

he hears a sniffle, causing him to turn his full attention to you. the tears glisten as they fall from your eyes and drip down your cheeks. you make no attempt to shy away.

“what are we gonna do now?” you ask, looking over at him. your voice is faint. small. “i can’t let you go– and for fuck’s sake, you won’t even let me– so… what now?”

“i… don’t know.” he confesses. his hand makes his way to yours, placed atop it. his other wipes your tears away, trembling as he touches your cheek with all the tenderness there is, like he’s afraid he might hurt you. he whispers your name again, and it is the sweetest sound you’ve heard in a while.

miguel usually thinks he’s no good at comforting others. but in this moment, you would’ve never known that. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into an embrace, holding you in his arms like you’re the most precious thing in the world. he’s not leaving you to suffer alone. he’s not leaving you like that ever again.

“you don’t have to forgive me.” he whispers to you. miguel knows he can’t repair all the damage he’s done. he knows you might never be able to look at him the same. And for once, he’s fine with that. he just needs to know you’ll be okay. “...just, please. let me do this for you.”

[06hee]

mister steal your girl

pairing: situationship! heeseung + fem!reader feat. not-so secret admirer flirty bsf! niki

synopsis: when rejecting heeseung’s invite to watch him play basketball turns him into a jealous mess.

genre: tbh idek.. kinda fluff kinda not, indirectly stated mutual pining, it’s a situationship

warnings! cursing, like indirectly stated rejection but really not, teasing & banter :)

notes: heeseung is older than y/n by a year and niki a year younger. y/n’s lowkey kinda toxic but we won’t get into that right now lol. niki and y/n are close friends but he would def take his chance if given. i kinda wanna turn this au universe into a small series so let me know what y’all think :)

———

the time reads 12:30am when your phone suddenly vibrates.

“hello?”

“you seriously would’ve came only for niki?”heeseung questions, and you can hear the whine wanting to break through his voice. he’s out of breath after playing basketball for about three hours straight and you’ve concluded he just got out the gym now.

“well did i show up? no, so there’s your answer” you reply, both loving and hating this conversation in the earliest hour of day.

this morning heeseung had asked if you’d want to come watch him play since he’d be coming to town. making up some excuse and saying no, he must’ve found out that you told niki you wouldn’t have denied the invite if you knew that he was going to be there as well.

heeseung lets out an annoyed groan into the mic, followed by you rolling your eyes.

“whatever, you’re fake for that” heeseung follows and you can hear him unlocking his car, faint voices in the background.

“oh my god, you guys started at 9:30!” you huff in annoyance but a smirk stays put on your face. “that’s so late, i wasn’t gonna come no matter what.”

“stop lying, you stay up until this time anyway.”

“i get into bed around 9!”

a low chuckle leaves heeseung’s throat as he shakes his head. he doesn’t understand this push and pull game that you play with him but he can’t seem to get himself to walk away. you’re intoxicating, your voice and attention like poison that he wants to keep to himself any chance he gets.

“whatever. i’ll just see you another time then,” he says quietly, although not quiet enough. you can hear the rest of his friends begin to pile into his car and one voice in particular catches your attention.

“who is that? y/n?” niki’s voice is loud compared to the rest. you can hear the “ooohs” and laughter of everyone else in the car while heeseung groans once again, ready to leave this place and start the 45 minute drive back home.

the shuffling of hands take over before a sweet voice leaves the phone.

“hiii y/n~” niki greets, the normal flirty tone in his voice flowing through your right ear. niki gives heeseung a mischievous grin and heeseung turns to face the front of the car. a giggle escapes out of you and you smile. oh how toxic, but so entertaining.

“awh hi niki, i missed you” you say through a pout. the car goes wild, signaling to you that yup, you are now on speaker phone. you can practically hear heeseung slap his palm to his face, ruffling his hair in slight frustration and turning back to face his younger friend with his phone.

niki chuckles and pulls the phone closer to his mouth.

“oh i missed you too princess, but your boyfriend over here is giving me death glares. i’ll text you later.” he grins and hands the phone back to heeseung. you hum in reply and soon enough the rest of the guys are laughing together. heeseung turns off the speaker and puts the phone back to his ear, turning onto the highway.

“don’t ever talk to me again,” he spits out quietly, his eyebrows are scrunched together with god who knows how many feelings.

“like you’ll be able to handle yourself without me anyway” and the satisfied grin makes home on your face again.

“oh shut up.”

“mhmm, now stop talking to me and focus on driving. call me when you get home,” you say softly as sleep takes over your body. you can visualize how pink heeseung’s cheeks are glowing, just as you intended.

thank god it’s dark out right now because if any of his friends were to see just how down bad he is for you he wouldn’t be able to take another hit. and god forbid heeseung actually wants to make it home without having to throw one of his homies out the van.

so he clears his throat before giving you a final answer.

“yeah yeah, just go to bed lazy ass. i’ll call you in the morning.”

you let out a laugh, now its your turn to blush.

“that’s what i thought,” you mumble through your tired lips before hanging up the phone.

heeseung drops his phone into the cup holder as a shy smile grows on his face. he doesn’t know how exactly he got himself stuck in your trap, but he can’t help but know that he’s slowly getting yourself to unlock it.

“better watch out heeseung,” sunghoon starts from the back seat, a snicker leaving jake’s lips.

“mister steal your girl over here might just be your biggest threat.”

___

oh how i wish i was stuck in this love triangle, haha

[fatalitysficbakery]

hey bae, idrk how to request stuff its been a long time since i have !

but i was wondering if i could request an elle greenaway x reader where they supposedly ‘hate’ each other at work but theyre actually dating and they act like that to avoid suspicion and elle gets caught in a like shooter thing and then she gets back safely (based on that b99 episode w rosa)

or if thats too detailed idk,, just the last bit, ‘elle gets caught in a like shooter thing and then she gets back safely (based on that b99 episode w rosa’

idk if this makes sense i wqs daydreaming abt it in the car earlier and i am so sleep deprived rn idek if im making words right

so sorry for how long this is i love the elle fic u posted 07.10 !! im sleel now im fallimg aslepp

𓆰♡︎𓆪 What Goes On In The Dark. —

Elle Greenaway x Black Fem!Y/n

genre: angst/fluff.

warnings: hostage situation, mentions of violence, blood, and shot wounds. JJ is a profiler here. Liaison!Y/n, grief, mentions of suicide, gun violence, nothing too graphic.

synopsis: i’ll love you till the very end, amor.

a/n: i hope you enjoy my take on this request, lovely!

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery navigation menu 𓆪

↳ 𓆰 Fatalitysficbakery criminal minds menu 𓆪.

↳ ❝Don’t let last words be ones to regret.❞⁣ -Unknown

⌫

Quantico, The Behavioral Analysis Unit was always my goal from the very start, I'd walked into the double doors of the place on my first day bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, all the whilst every horror imaginable lay beneath.

There was a lot to dislike about the place, the bureaucracy the most damning flaw of all, It was a tangled mess that the agents had to deal with, to remember why you're there was to do your job well.

Elle Greenaway and I were alike in that way, we wanted to help the world be a safer place, I remember our first meeting, she'd welcomed me to hell. Her piercing brown eyes stared me down, scanning me as if she could see right through to my soul.

The blush that kissed my skin that day was embarrassing and exciting all at once. She'd find ways to talk to me, excuses to come to my office. The new liaison. I'd let the team know my doors were open at any point in time, and God did she ever abuse it. Suddenly pencils regularly disappeared from her desk. Could she use one of mine? Did I have a stapler? Hers was empty.

It was...flattering.

I couldn't lie, the agent had piqued my interest from the start. A smooth talker with a quick tongue. Clever. Amazing at her job. Just my type, you could consider me charmed from day one. She had me in the palm of her hand.

From there it was inevitable, I was hers.

Again, the ladder of the BAU was a tough one to work around, the night we finally hooked up, it was under the guise of me not having a ride home from work. My car was in the shop...The same one that was parked just in the garage parking lot, furthest space away from the other's eyes.

That night, staring into puddles of hazel brown, brunette locks tickling my skin; I knew I'd developed an addiction, and god was it a euphoric one.

↳

When we made it official, Elle gave me a locket, heart pendant with a picture of us in it. We'd agreed to keep it on the down low until we knew how to break it to Strauss and the rest.

That's when Operation: Become The Enemy started. Pretend to be absolutely revolted by one another at work, disappear into our own little world when alone.

It was a riot trying to pretend I hated the woman, hell, she drove me insane in all the best ways. She was my drug.

God, was she ever.

Being snapped back to reality tends to ruin all fantasies.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

The BAU was my dream. My goal from the start. I wanted to be here, I wanted to be here.

My chest felt tight, my every limb aching the moment Hotch cleared it. Allowed her to go inside. Why did it have to her? Why did she have to be the hero?

It's our job, I know. I repeated that to myself so many fucking times whilst watching her put on that damned bulletproof vest which did nothing to silence my worries. — Every other part of her became fair game.

My chest hurt, my breathing sped up. Everything blurred. Before long I was being escorted to my seat by a worried JJ, I couldn't even tell her the reason I was so upset. I felt myself drowning, sorrow encapsulated my entire being, paralyzing me with a fear I'd never felt in forever.

The fear of loss. Grief.

I couldn't believe it, the world was taking from me what happiness I had gotten back, and to make it all worse...

She'd probably thought I hated her.

POP. POP. POP.

"Was that a gunshot?! We're going in. NOW"!

It was at that moment, my sorrow melded into anger and determination. Hotch and Rossi, I could see a moment of doubt on their faces, but there was none in mine. I nodded at them, jaw set.

I could see relief wash over Aaron, I could hear Jennifer exhale.

I got geared up, muttering a quiet.

"We're going to get Elle".

⌫

12 hours ago.

I could feel her icy glare on me, but I couldn't look her way. I wouldn't. I was too prideful. Too stubborn. Too...hurt.

It all seems so stupid now in hindsight but then, then it felt so serious. End of the world serious.

She was still worried of exposing our relationship and what that would mean, fearful. I could see it in her eyes that she didn't wanna risk the chance of losing what we had, but I was tired. Too tired to look at it from a different perspective, to be rational. I wanted the world to know.

It'd been an almost full year of Elle and Y/n. Didn't that mean something to her?

Now that I think about it; It probably meant everything to her, and that's where her hesitance stemmed from. Maybe if I hadn't been so boneheaded...

↳

Elle walked into your office that day, two cups of coffee in hand and a to-go bag under her chin. It was early before most of the team had even arrived. She wanted to get there before it was time for another award-winning performance of pretending to hate the woman she loved the most.

The smile that greeted you was one of pure happiness, and it had only been met with a grimace of discomfort, and a problem waiting to be made. I mean, how dare she? Bring you coffee and scones while you prepped to present another harrowing case to the team with Garcia? How absolutely dare she?

When she saw the grimace on your face after sitting the coffee and scones down, her smile faded almost immediately. Knowing instantly what this would be about, the same conversation had been going on for a week and a half now that your one-year anniversary was quickly approaching.

"It's a little early, no? You usually don't come in so soon".

That was a lie, you both knew it but Elle also knew that was only the gateway to your next question. She sits before you, pulling up a chair.

"Y/n, pleas—"

"I don't wanna do it anymore, Elle. Can't we tell Strauss and them? Our anniversary is two weeks away, we've been going behind their backs for too long...I want them to know".

Elle sighs, you'd asked this so many times and the answer stayed the same. Her lips part to speak but it's stuck in her throat, it's dying there and in her silence you find disappointments. Your mouth fixes into a slight scowl.

"Well"?

Elle finally speaks, "You know why we can’t".

Her answer again left you dissatisfied, but this time instead of fighting it, you allow words you regret to slip through the cloud of emotions you were feeling. Before you know it, it's too late to take them back, Elle's face had already fallen, and your ego was too big to take it all back.

"Fine. Well, maybe we shouldn't even be doing this. I'm tired of being just two coworkers hooking up".

The words hang in the air, toxic and venomous. The fumes left a nasty stench. Elle notices you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you often do when uncomfortable or nervous. Yet you speak not a word.

She stands, clearing her throat.

"Just two coworkers hooking up? That's what you think of our relationship? Wow".

And that, that was all she said. There was so much and nothing left to say, neither of you quite processed what had happened before she left your office on that sullen note.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

The case had gone from a simple familial kidnapping to not only the dad holding his daughter hostage but an entire library. My Elle had gone inside that place, her bravery had always inspired me, but today I couldn't help but have a strong disdain for it. The way she was immediately ready to go. It was her nature. It was MY nature. The entirety of the BAU would've done the same, and all I could think was why it had to be here.

When we got in, it was already too late. James had shot Elle in the thigh, and his daughter in the arm, before he'd turned the gun on himself.

I'd rushed to her side, the first one there whilst the rest tended to the others. She was already grey, lips pale and blue and eyes barely opened.

From that moment, leaving her side wasn't an option, the only time I did so was when she was rolled away for surgery. The hours spent with her gone was just me sobbing uncontrollably in Penelope's arms.

I was no longer able to pretend, and I was hoping, praying to whatever God I could that she'd make it out of that surgery alive to be mad at me about that.

I could hear her voice telling me to pull myself together, I was being too obvious. I could see her soft smile vividly in my mind winking at me right after that.

It was touch and go, touch and go.

Finally, the doctor came to talk to us.

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

I put the finishing touches on it, my heartbeat so loud I could hear it pumping. God, I was so nervous. I'd never done something like this before, I never thought I could be doing something like this before.

I'd rejected the idea of commitment, shunned it. The thought of long-term relationships terrified me. Maybe, maybe that was why it was so difficult to convince me.

I'd convinced myself it was because I wasn't ready for the big boy's club to have the spotlight on my relationship, it was bad enough their eyes were watching my every move at work, but my personal life?

And yeah, that was the reason for about 6 months, but I knew in my soul of souls that I wanted her. Solely her. I didn't care about bureaucracy that much, hell, I was the reason there were eyes on me after the shooting they'd watched me like a hawk.

But no, that wasn't the reason. It was my safety net. My excuse to mull over my own grievances with love and relationships. I could see the sadness wash over her face every time I'd say 'not now', and it broke me each time.

I just...wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to admit to myself that I was worthy and deserving of love. That a relationship could be healthy/

I was constantly watching my back, waiting for it all to fall so I could prove myself right. When it didn't...When I almost lost her to my own foolishness, it was the biggest wake-up call of my life. — Waking up in that hospital bed, I remember it vividly. Looking to my right to see a sea of ginger curls strewn about my bed, her soft snores filled my ears. She sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair with her head lying on my bed, and it was clear she hadn't gotten any sleep in days.

Later, I was told I'd been in a coma for three weeks.

In those three weeks, she'd never left my side until she had to shower, eat, or change. Morgan told me he'd arrive only to see her doing work beside me and Hotch was more than gracious enough to allow her to be with me.

⌫

Her eyes opened, pained by the awful fluorescent lighting overhead, and as her eyes adjusted to the harsh lighting, she heard a familiar sound, those soft snores like music to her ears when she looked to her right and her suspicions were correct. You rest your head on your arms laid on the edge of her bed just next to her arm without the IV in it. You looked so peaceful, but she noticed how pale your usually cocoa skin looked.

She can't help but wonder how long you'd been there.

When she turns her head away from you, still scanning her surroundings, a soft British accent sounds out beside her rasp and sleep coating your vocals.

"Elle". You spoke so breathlessly as if you'd received the biggest surprise of your life. She took note of the way your eyes immediately welled up, apologies stumbling from your lips, "Baby, I'm so sorry I didn't mean—”

She'd shushed you, scooting over and patting a spot next to her. When you join her on the hospital bed that barely fits one let alone two, she kisses the top of your head, hand scratching and massaging through your soft ginger afro, she sighs and shakes her head, looking down at you.

"I know you didn't. Just sleep with me for right now, yeah"?

A tear slips from your eyes, you nuzzle gently into her side further, careful to not worsen any of her injuries.

"Yeah".

↳

I'd probably asked her to repeat what had almost happened to me a thousand times, something about hearing it was healing almost.

Though, she could make anything sound interesting with her voice like honeycomb. It was the one of the first things about her that’d caught my attention.

She knew how to make it real for me.

⌫

Elle lay in your arms, her head resting in your lap with your nails massaging her scalp. This wasn't the first time she'd asked you to retell the story, it was the fourth in a single week. You were happy to oblige, even if it hurt you to talk about seeing her almost die, You knew she needed this, and if it helped her in any way, you were glad to.

"The bullet hit a major artery. The doctor had come out to tell us of your death, I think my knees nearly buckled when I heard her starting to apologize".

She'd looked up at you, eyes and ears focusing solely on you like she hadn't heard the story a previous three times, she'd kissed the back of your hand gently when you had to stop for a moment to recollect yourself talking about how you'd thought you'd lost the love of your life.

Finally, you spoke again, eyes glossy.

"When she was about to call it, tell us her condolences, another of the surgical team ran out to tell her that there was a pulse, you could be saved. As soon as I heard the news, I did drop to my knees. I did. I thanked the stars that I'd get another chance to make it right, to tell you how much I loved you and regretted my words".

"You're doing so good, Beautiful", she'd whispered to you appreciatively, knowing how hard this was for you, It only made her love you that much more seeing the lengths you would go to to help her heal.

"It was touch and go for a few hours after that, you once again died on the table, three times. Finally, the doctor was about to give up until you got a steady pulse. They told us you fought like hell to get back to the team. But I couldn't help but think maybe..."

"It was. It was you, I don't remember much. I was talking to my father on the jet. Telling him all about the team, all about you. How I couldn't leave you just yet...Not on such a standstill".

Your breath caught in your throat at her words, you'd had your fair share of near-death experiences when working in SVU but you weren't sure you'd felt anything but coldness, a darkness. Elle had something to live for. She'd chosen to live for you.

"Y/n".

Your eyes shot to hers, she'd never really addressed you by your first name, only pet names she'd gifted you. So, when she'd said it, she'd gotten your full attention.

"Yea"?

"You were right...You were right, look, for a while" She sat up, moving to face you before continuing, "For a while it was about work, me wanting to continue lying. But, you were right. It wasn't just that".

Elle grabbed your hands in hers, her hazel eyes a vision of fall as she stared into yours, you knew the woman better than anyone, you could see this was hard for her; being vulnerable.

"I never thought of love as something that could be achieved in our field, not long term at least, and after about three failed relationships in, I stopped pursuing. I became terrified of commitment, and when you came along..."

"You got scared of the things you felt". You finished for her, sighing softly and pressing your forehead against hers, "Me too".

She nodded, "When I left your office thinking we were over, I realized my own cowardice. I knew I couldn't just lose you like that. I was gonna speak up and apologize. Talk it out. Anything. Until"

"Everything..." You whisper and cup her cheek in your hand, searching her eyes for that love, and when you see it. That same glint from first meeting, the side of your lips quirked up into a delicate smile, "I love you, Agent Greenaway".

"And I love you far more, Agent Y/ln".

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

I glance at the door anxiously, eyes shifting from that to the clock ticking slowly on the wall, and back. Putting this in the hands of someone other than my own was nerve-wracking, especially dealing with something this important.

Eventually, the door opens, and I'm almost allowed to breathe, but not yet. Not just yet. You're almost there Elle.

Entrusting this with Penelope Garcia of all people was the scariest part of all this, but she came through without spilling all, I admit. She smiles at me, giving a thumbs up. And I appreciate it, I do, but it's not any more comforting. Right now nothing could comfort me.

And then, I look to her.

(check image descs)

A vision of perfection stood before me, and as Garcia finally removed her blindfold, I could feel my face get hot, my heart pumping faster. She was stunning. We stare at each other in awe, I can feel my father whispering in my ear that I was making a good decision.

For so long I'd rejected the idea, and now it was something I was more sure of than anything else in my life.

"Come here, Mi Amor" I hear myself whisper, my voice caught in my throat as I prepared myself for the task ahead. She walks over to me with her hand still cupping her mouth in shock as she grasps what the box in my hand means.

When she's close enough, I get on one knee. The tears welling in my eyes a perfect match for the ones in her.

"You two argue like an old married couple". "They're still at it? Ugh, get a room".

(check image descs)

My voice shakes, I'd never proposed to anyone, let alone after only a year of dating.

"Y/n Y/ln, happy one-year anniversary. Where do I even start this? I know this is probably soon, but...If there's anything in this world I've ever been sure of, It'd be you. My hesitance with commitment almost lost me the most wonderful woman ever crafted. I'm tired of running. I'm tired of hiding...I want you. Forever. Will you do me the honor and marry m-"

Before I could get another word in, I felt her launch herself into my arms, her hold on me confirmed everything I already knew.

I couldn't let anyone else have her. She was too valuable to me. To this world.

"YES! Yes, I'd be so honoured to be your Mrs. Elle Greenaway"!

𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪𓆰♥︎𓆪𓆰♡︎𓆪

A/N: A bit of a trauma dump ahead, but I'm back after going through the death of my uncle only a week ago, having horrible PTSD and sickle cell kicking my ass. I hope this is to your liking, lovely! Sorry for the long wait ):

[lollytea]

utterly obsessed with your fairytale hunlow AU. the way you give every dynamic a different balance is so so so interesting i'm fucking RIVETED. Willow and Hunter's dynamic and the uncomfortable, teeth-grinding tension between Hunter and Philip in the first chapter, and then Willow and her dads, and Willow and Amity in the second chapter .... i'm unwell you get them SO RIGHT. and the worldbuilding is so cool. i love all of it. i don't know if i'm articulating myself well i just. FIC GOOD

WAAAGGAGHH!!! Thank you so much, hearing this means everything to me!!!

I love this AU so much. I've got tons of notes on how this world functions and its many many secrets and idek if half of it will be explained in the fic. Just coming up with some semblance of logic to keep my own sanity.

I've had this AU for about a year so I've spent a lot of time messing around with this version of Willow and Hunter and how their dynamic works. Playing with them like barbies. But also saying this AU is a year old is not indictive of the fic's future quality. I was developing things but not necessarily the important stuff. It will probably be a mess of a fic. A fun mess hopefully.

The dynamics are my everything!! Since the fic centers on Willow and Hunter as individuals (as well as their relationship with each other) I also want to give a lot of attention to their bonds with others. Next chapter I get to focus on Willow's friendship with both Gus and Luz. Hunter doesn't really have a lot of close relationships. Just his Uncle and kiiiiiinda Willow. Very excited for him to branch out and form a few connections.

In conclusion, yippee!