#trying to help the grieving father of her friend

[pitlanepeach]

Clara | Chapter One

Toto Wolff x Original Female Character

Summary — She wasn’t looking for anything extraordinary, just a quiet life; peace. She should’ve known her past would catch up with her eventually — one way or another.

Warnings — Age-Gap (24 & 50), one night stands, unplanned pregnancy, complex family dynamics, sugar daddy Toto vibes, strong language, sexually explicit content.

Notes — It's here! I've concluded that this fic will end up being around 7 chapters, for those who like to know what to expect! As always, send me your thoughts! - Peach x

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

She was nineteen the first time she left home.

Ran, really, was a better way to put it.

There hadn’t been a dramatic moment. No suitcase flung open in the hallway, no door slammed behind her. Just a pink sky, a silent bus ride, and that cold, certain kind of knowing—the kind that settles into your ribs and whispers, if you stay, you’ll drown.

Mick had stayed. Of course he had. That world had always fit him—tight like a glove, stitched together in perfection and expectation. He was good. The golden boy. And everyone told him so.

And Clara? Clara had been handed the quiet burden of being his twin.

The same face, the same blood, the same surname—but none of the brilliance people were looking for. Just enough resemblance to be a reminder, never enough to be a revelation. The pressure hadn’t been loud. It had come in glances, in polite suggestions, in the way people looked at her like they were waiting for something to switch on. Some fire. Some legacy.

After the accident, it became unbearable.

The house was suddenly full of silence. Everyone grieving in their own way. Everyone pushing forward because they didn’t know what else to do. And Clara—Clara had felt like she was being swallowed whole by the weight of it.

The pressure to stay strong. The pressure to stay visible. The pressure to become something great. A symbol. A Schumacher.

But she didn’t want to carry anyone’s legacy. She didn’t want to represent a name. She just wanted… a soft life. Quiet mornings. Gentle hands. To be held more than she was looked at.

So she left before she could unravel entirely. No big exit. No scandal. Just a quiet bag packed and a train ticket south.

She dyed her hair darker. Started using her mother’s maiden name. Learned how to disappear gently, with grace.

Started smiling less. That helped.

Jobs came easily when you were tall and lovely and didn’t ask for much. The world had a place for girls like her—on the edges of luxury, pretty and quiet and always moving. She passed through Ibiza, Berlin, Nice, Dubai. Never stayed long enough to be known. She learned how to flirt without promising, how to disappear while standing still, how to be wanted without being remembered.

By the time she took the winter-season contract at a private estate in the Swiss Alps, she was twenty-four and bone-tired.

The job had come through a friend of a friend. Exclusive. Discreet. Hospitality for elite guests—businessmen, old money, the occasional celebrity trying to avoid cameras and commitments. Clara said yes before she even saw the full details. High pay. Quiet location. No press. No fuss.

She hadn’t realised what kind of people she’d be serving until she saw the guest list.

And there it was.

Toto Wolff.

She’d read the name twice. Then folded the paper and put it out of sight like it might burn her fingers.

He hadn’t known her then, not really. She was just a kid when he used to come by the Schumacher home—tall and intimidating, always deep in conversation with her father, the kind of man who seemed too big for their kitchen table. She’d curl up on the stairs sometimes, half-listening, pretending not to care. But she remembered the sound of his voice. Deep. Calm. Quietly dangerous.

Now he was here. In the exact place she’d chosen to disappear.

And she would serve him drinks like she didn’t know him.

Like she wasn’t someone he’d once seen running barefoot in a paddock. Like she hadn’t watched him from the shadows for years, intrigued and crushing on a man who was thirty years older than her. 

The moment she saw him, she knew it wouldn’t work.

He was older now—sharper, maybe lonelier around the edges—but his presence filled the room the way it always had. Clara ducked her head, took a breath, and told herself he wouldn’t recognise her.

Not here.

Not like this.

She’d buried Clara Schumacher a long time ago.

She just hoped Toto Wolff didn’t know how to dig.

—

The kitchen was warm, too warm—radiators on full blast and the oven open for the pastry chef’s temperamental soufflés. Clara stood near the sink, rolling her sleeves up and letting the heat flush her cheeks. Her blouse clung to her back, but she welcomed the discomfort. It was grounding. 

“Did you see the guest list?” Someone whispered. It was Elise, one of the other servers—French, painfully pretty, and always two steps ahead on gossip.

Clara didn’t look up from the tray of polished glasses she was inspecting. “Briefly.”

“Well, I saw it,” Elise continued, loading her voice with importance. “There’s going to be, like, five billionaires here. That Wolff guy? He’s huge. Like, terrifying. But also... kind of hot in a cryptic-CEO kind of way.”

“I’d let him ruin me,” muttered Anaïs, the pastry assistant, half into the fridge.

Clara forced a smile and kept polishing. 

God, they had no idea.

“Apparently he’s super private about his private life,” Elise said, lowering her voice. “Obviously. I mean, when was the last time anyone heard about him having a girlfriend?”

Clara’s throat tightened. Her hand slipped slightly on a wineglass stem, and it wobbled before she caught it. She turned, steadying her tone. “Which wing is he staying in?”

“East,” Elise answered. “Why?”

“No reason.” Clara dried her hands and reached for her tray. “I’ve got the cocktail round for the main salon.”

“Good luck,” Anaïs said with a wink. “Try not to melt.”

— 

The estate’s main salon was dimly lit and elegant, all old wood and older money. A fire crackled in the hearth. Conversation buzzed low and intentional—men with pocket squares, women in sleek black dresses, the clink of cutlery and crystal.

Clara stepped into the room like a shadow, trained and fluid, balancing her tray with easy grace.

She saw him before he saw her.

Toto was stood near the fireplace, glass in hand, deep in conversation with a man she vaguely recognised from handful of financial tabloids. He looked broader than she remembered, darker around the eyes. But his presence hadn’t dulled. It pressed into the room like gravity.

Clara’s stomach twisted. She approached slowly, circling the room, offering drinks, nodding politely. All muscle memory.

And then—

He turned.

Eyes met hers.

Only for a second. Maybe two.

But it was enough.

His expression didn’t change. No widening eyes, no sharp intake of breath. Just a quiet recalibration, like a man noting a discrepancy in a report—unspoken, but deeply, dangerously noted.

She looked away first. Felt the heat rise to her collarbones. Stepped past him like he hadn’t just undone five years of erasure with a single glance.

She made it to the far side of the room before she let herself breathe again.

But even as she served the rest of the guests, hands steady and smile serene, she felt it.

His gaze.

On her.

All night long.

Not leering. Not obvious.

Just there. Like a hook in the water, waiting.

Not absolutely sure what it had caught—but curious. Focused.

Remembering.

— 

The night had finally exhaled.

Guests were retired to their wings or slowly drifting that way. The last fire in the main salon had been banked. The soft shuffle of slippers and closing doors was the only sound left in the house.

Clara moved like a ghost through the back corridor, tray empty, apron half-tied at her waist, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. She just needed ten more steps. Her suite. Her bed. One locked door between her and—

"Clara Schumacher.”

Her name stopped her like a crack of thunder.

She turned slowly. He was there—Toto. Leaning casually in the mouth of the hallway, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks, the other resting on the trim of the doorframe.

His eyes were unreadable in the low light.

She hesitated. “That’s not my name.”

He raised one brow, just slightly. “No?”

She didn’t answer.

A beat passed. Then two. “I almost did not recognise you,” he said finally, voice low. “But you have your father’s eyes. And your brother’s mouth. That tilt, when you’re irritated.”

“I’m not irritated,” she lied.

“You always were, around me.”

That made her blink. “You remember that?”

He gave the smallest of smiles. “You were a teenager who hated being ignored.”

“And yet you still did it.” She folded her arms, tray pressed between her ribs and elbow. “Ignored me.”

He nodded, thoughtfully. Then his voice lowered even further. “What are you doing here, Clara?”

“I work here.”

“You shouldn’t.”

She stiffened, eyes narrowing. “Why not?”

“You’re a Schumacher,” he said, as if that explained everything. “You were never meant to serve.”

Her mouth pulled tight. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I am allowed to want to separate myself from my family name.” She told him sharply. 

“I knew your father,” he said simply. “He would be horrified, mäuschen, that you are spending your time cleaning lipstick off champagne glasses like you are somebody else.”

“I am someone else.” She said, on a sharp inhale that cut through the pain of hearing anybody talk about her father. “Clara Schumacher doesn’t exist anymore.”

Toto stepped closer. Not menacing—just steady. Measured. Quiet concern, coiled beneath layers of restraint. “I remember her,” he said. “And I think that she is still in there.”

Clara turned away, blinking hard. “You don’t understand,” she whispered. “I had to leave. I couldn’t— I couldn’t stay there any longer. I couldn’t stand to watch him fade away. And then to have to sit back and watch Mick rise to the top…” 

“I think that I do understand,” he argued, his eyebrows drawn together, his voice low and careful. “You were afraid, so you ran and hid.”

She flinched. 

The silence stretched, thick and raw. 

Sensing the tremor in her, Toto softened, his voice dropping even lower, the words curling around her like a warmth she didn’t want. "Mäuschen," he murmured, his voice gentler now, “Kleine Maus... it’s okay. You don’t have to hide. Not from me.”

Clara’s breath hitched in her throat at the softness of it—the softness of Mäuschen, a pet name so tender it made her stomach tighten, just a little. 

He reached out, barely, almost as if he were going to touch her arm. But he stopped himself, his hand hanging at his side. “I won’t tell anyone that I have seen you,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, an attempt to ease the tension. “If that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Clara didn’t answer immediately. Her chest felt tight, the words clinging to the back of her throat, but she couldn’t quite say them. “I’m not afraid,” she finally whispered, though the words felt hollow. 

Toto’s gaze softened even more, and for a moment, she knew that he could see the fractured pieces of herself that she was trying so hard to hide. He took a step back, giving her space, but his eyes held her still. His voice was low again, barely audible in the quiet corridor. “Du bist nicht allein, Kleine Maus,” he said, his words barely a breath, more an affirmation than a promise. “But I will be here for a full week. So… when you’re tired of pretending this life is what you want, when you’re done with this ridiculous act of rebellion… find me.” He gave her one last lingering look—and then he turned, slowly, walking away, the soft echo of his dress shoes fading into the distance.

Clara stood there long after he was gone, her pulse hammering in her chest. She could still feel him; like he’d etched himself into the space between her ribs somehow.

“Clara?” Elise called. “Can you come and give us a hand in the kitchen?”

She took a deep breath, pushed every thought of Toto Wolff to the back of her mind, and headed back toward the kitchen. 

—

Clara’s fingers moved quickly, setting the table with an almost mechanical precision. The guests were seated, the room filled with quiet chatter and the clink of glasses. She drifted through the room, her body automatic, her face a practiced mask. The pressure of it all had become second nature: being used, going unnoticed, never really there but always present.

Toto wasn’t like the other guests, though. He had a way of watching her, of speaking to her, that tugged at her in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. He had arrived early, sitting at the far end of the room, casually sipping his coffee, his eyes following her movements with a quiet interest.

“Isn’t it curious?” He asked softly, his voice carrying just to her as the room emptied for a brief moment. “A woman like you… working like this. All your beauty, all your grace... and yet here you are, doing this.” He gestured toward the task she was occupied with, not loud enough to draw attention but still heavy with implication.

His tone was gentle, almost conversational, as though he were commenting on the weather, not on the way she’d chosen to live. “You should be the one enjoying this, not serving it, don’t you think? Being treated the way someone of your pedigree deserves.”

Clara flinched, her heart skipping a beat, but she quickly masked it with a neutral smile. She forced her focus on the tray she carried, avoiding his gaze, but she felt his eyes on her the entire time.

She continued moving through the estate, offering drinks, greeting guests, and pretending that she didn’t feel the tug of his words, that they weren’t echoing in the back of her mind. His comment had been soft, almost kind. But it felt like a crack in the walls she’d painfully constructed.

Later, as she watched guests indulge in the luxury, their every need met with ease, she couldn't shake the longing that stirred inside her. For the first time in years, she remembered what it had felt like to be taken care of, to be spoiled, to be wanted without having to give something in return. Her chest tightened with the realisation of how much she missed it—and how terrifying that was to admit. 

—

The day dragged on. Clara was exhausted. She had been on her feet for hours, serving, attending to every need. And every time she passed by his table, there he was—Toto, watching her. There was something different in his gaze though. Softer, almost knowing, like he could see right through her mask.

He was standing by the door now, his eyes meeting hers as she passed by with a tray. “Kleine Maus,” he said gently, his voice carrying just enough to reach her. “I do not enjoy you like this. Working. Tired to the bone. Shadows under your eyes.” His tone was quiet, almost like a confession.

She stopped in her tracks, his words settling into her like stones in her stomach. She tightened her grip on the tray, trying to push the feeling of vulnerability away, but it was impossible.

“You deserve more than this life. You should be treated better than this.”

His words weren’t forceful. They weren’t demanding. But they lingered. And he said them so softly. 

Clara took a deep breath, but she couldn’t help the sudden tightness in her throat. She turned away quickly, feeling the overwhelming pressure rise in her chest.

She kept moving, trying to keep herself together, but it felt harder with each step. The words continued to swirl in her mind. You deserve more than this life. You should be treated better than this. It was all she could hear.

And then, suddenly, she was aware of him again. Toto’s presence behind her, quiet but insistent. She didn’t need to look to know he was there. The weight of his attention was all-encompassing.

When she felt a hand on her arm, steady and warm, her breath caught in her throat. “Komm, lass uns hinaus gehen,” he said, low and soft, but firm—inviting her out of the chaos, out of the pretence. “Come, let’s go outside.”

Her chest tightened, and without thinking, she let him lead her down the hall. She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t care. Her tears started to fall before she could stop them, soft at first, then uncontrollable.

Toto didn’t say anything, didn’t ask why or try to stop her. He simply led her down the hall, away from prying eyes, into a quiet space where no one could see her fall apart. When they reached an empty corner, Clara collapsed, her sobs racking her body. The years of pretending, the exhaustion, the years of loneliness—it all came flooding out. She couldn’t hold herself up anymore. She was done.

But Toto was there, catching her instantly. His arms enveloped her, pulling her close in a way that was both protective and comforting. He didn’t ask her to stop crying. He didn’t tell her to be strong. He just held her, letting her collapse into his chest as if she had no weight at all.

“Du bist nicht allein, Kleine Maus,” he whispered into her hair. His voice was a promise, quiet and steady. “I will never let you go without proper care again. Not for so long. You deserve much better than this.”

Clara clung to him, her sobs quieter now, but her body still shaking with the release of everything she’d been holding back for so long. Toto’s arms, his warmth, were like a safe place she had long forgotten could exist.

— 

The corridor was silent. Every polished stone echoed under Clara’s bare feet as she approached the end of the guest wing, her night coat pulled tight around her. She stood in front of the door for too long, knuckles raised, not knocking.

Then, like he always could, he opened it before she could make a sound.

Toto looked at her without surprise, like he’d known she would come. Like he’d been waiting. "Clara," he said softly. Just her name, but it sounded different in his mouth. Measured. Weighty. Almost reverent. She didn’t speak. Just looked at him, eyes wide, still a little red. Her hands trembled at her sides. “You should not be walking the halls like this alone so late,” he murmured, stepping aside. “Come inside.”

She did.

The room was warm, lit only by the fire. It smelled like cedar and expensive cologne, understated and masculine. She stood by the hearth, trying not to unravel.

“I don’t know why I came,” she whispered.

“I do,” he said. Simply. Kindly.

She turned toward him then. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

His eyes flickered, something ancient and gentle behind them. He stepped closer, slowly—giving her time, always giving her time.

“Then you won’t be.”

She searched his face, then nodded once.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “You will let me take care of you tonight, Kleine Maus?” He asked, the pet name soft like silk. “Only if you want it.”

“I do,” she breathed, and God, she’d known this was a possibility, but the reality sunk in with a sharp, exciting spark. “Please.”

And Toto, gentleman always, but not soft, kissed her like he meant it. With control, with patience, with deep, deliberate reverence. Every move was a question. Every answer she gave was enthusiastic, quiet, whole-body yes. He undressed her like she was made of something precious, and the way he touched her, slow and steady and unbearably tender, felt more like worship than want.

He didn’t rush. He led.

And for the first time in years, Clara didn’t have to give. She was allowed to fall back and simply be received—all her walls pulled down, all her edges seen and kissed and kept tenderly safe. It was slow, it was intense, and it was unbearably good.

Later, wrapped in his arms, her face pressed to the warmth of his chest, she felt something terrifying creeping in.

Hope.

—

Clara woke just as the morning light spilled through the windows. Toto was already sitting on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt, his back to her.

Something about it—about the way he didn’t immediately turn—made her stomach twist.

He finally spoke, quiet, almost too gentle. “You should go home, Clara.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

He turned then, eyes kind but distant in a way they hadn’t been last night. “To your mother. To Mick. They will be missing you dearly.”

She sat up slowly. “You… you want me to leave?”

He stood and walked toward her, kneeling briefly to take her hand. “You have spent too long pretending you’re not loved. You need to be reminded.”

“But I thought…” She blinked, throat closing up. “I thought maybe—”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing softly over her knuckles, lingering like he didn’t want to let go. His voice, when it came, was quiet—so gentle it almost hurt. “This life, liebling… it isn’t something I can offer without cost. And I—” he looked away, jaw tight, “I am not a man who gives only pieces. When I take, it is not done in halves. You understand?”

Clara’s chest ached. Her nod came too fast, too eager to protect her own pride. “Of course,” she said, the words brittle.

His hand tightened once, as if he might pull her back into his chest—but he didn’t.

And that, somehow, was worse.

Instead he leaned forward, kissed her forehead. A parting gesture. “Go home, Kleine Maus.”

She dressed in silence. Went back to her room and packed with numb fingers. 

And by the time the sun had fully risen over the snow-covered estate, Clara Schumacher was on the first flight home. 

— 

The gate creaked just like she remembered. The porch light still flickered faintly in the right corner. Clara’s suitcase rolled quietly behind her, wheels bumping over the uneven stone path leading up to the door. She hadn’t called ahead. Couldn’t bring herself to. She didn’t know what she would’ve said.

But the moment the door opened, everything stopped.

Her mother stood there barefoot, flour dusted on her sweater, eyes going wide with disbelief before softening with something fierce and maternal. “Clara?” She breathed, voice cracking.

Clara nodded—barely—and then she was in her mother’s arms, held so tightly she could barely breathe. The scent of rosemary and warm bread clung to her sweater, and Clara let her eyes close, let herself sink into that long-forgotten feeling of being held.

“You came home,” her mother whispered, voice trembling. “My darling girl.”

Before Clara could even find the words, she heard familiar footsteps behind them—hurried, heavier. Mick’s voice followed a beat later. “Mum? Who was at the—”

Then he saw her. His eyes went wide with disbelief before they flooded with something harder, deeper—relief.

“Jesus, Clara.” He crossed the foyer in three long strides, hugging her like he was afraid she might vanish again. “What the hell?”

She tried to speak but her throat closed up. So she just wrapped her arms around her twin and nodded into his shoulder.

“You disappeared,” Mick said into her hair, voice low. “And I didn’t know if you were okay. I kept thinking—” He pulled back just slightly, searching her face. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m so sorry.” 

—

The house had quieted, but the air was still heavy. Clara sat curled on the bench beneath the kitchen window, nursing a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. The lights were dim. Her mother had gone upstairs. 

Mick stood by the counter, arms crossed, jaw tight. He hadn’t said anything for a long time. Finally, his voice cut through the quiet. “You missed everything.”

Clara flinched. She set the mug down, fingers trembling. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Mick turned to face her fully, eyes sharp with something deeper than anger—hurt. “You missed my first season in Formula One.”

She looked down. “I’m sorry, Mick.”

“No, you’re not,” he snapped, stepping forward. “Do you know what it was like for me? Watching Mum try to smile through it and pretend she wasn’t crying every time she passed your room? I had no idea if you were dead or just—what? Pretending none of us existed?”

“Mick—”

“No,” he said, softer now, but still furious. “You left when we needed you. When I needed you. And I know things were hard—God, they were hard—but I was your brother. I am your brother. Your twin, Clara. You could’ve told me.”

Clara opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her eyes shimmered. And then, all at once, she cracked. “I couldn’t,” she said, voice breaking. “I wasn’t strong like you. I couldn’t keep smiling, couldn’t keep pretending that it didn’t hurt, that I wasn’t disappearing inside. I couldn’t sit at the table every day and not know if Papa would ever say my name again. I couldn’t stand in your shadow and carry his too.” Tears streamed down her cheeks now, hot and relentless. “I’m sorry I missed your season. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wanted to be—I did—but I watched every race on the TV no matter where I was, and I cheered for you, Mick. I promise I did.” Her voice cracked on that last word.

She turned, expecting silence, or more reprimand—but instead, she found herself wrapped in her mother’s arms. Sabine had come down at some point, drawn by the weight of voices and grief, and now she was gathering Clara up like she had when she was small—like she always did when the world got too loud.

“Oh, mein Herz,” her mother whispered, fingers combing gently through Clara’s hair. “You never needed to be strong. We never asked that of you. We only ever wanted you safe.”

Clara sobbed harder. Mick looked down, blinking furiously, and then stepped forward too. Slowly, carefully, he sank beside them, leaning in. “I was so angry,” he said quietly. “But I was scared, too. Scared you were gone for good.”

Clara shook her head against their mother’s shoulder. “I was just... lost.”

“Well, not anymore,” their mother said softly. “You’re here. Home. And you will never be alone again.”

—

Six Weeks Later

Clara stood in the bathroom, staring at the small plastic stick in her hand. Her heartbeat was a frantic drum in her chest, each thump louder than the next. The room was quiet—too quiet—and her mind was racing, thoughts blurring together.

She couldn’t seem to breathe. The faint second pink line on the test was undeniable. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a dream.

She was pregnant.

She sank down onto the edge of the bathtub, feeling the cold tile against her legs. Her hands were shaking. The steady rhythm of her breathing faltered, and the world outside the bathroom felt like it was slipping away from her.

Pregnant.

How had this happened? No, she knew how it had happened—of course, she did. 

She hadn’t planned for this. She had barely begun to piece together the fragments of herself she’d left behind, to understand what her future looked like now. How was she supposed to raise a child? How was she supposed to face her family after this?

The thought of telling them made her stomach twist. But that wasn’t even the most immediate problem. The thought of telling him—Toto—made her throat close with dread.

What would he think? What would he do?

They hadn’t spoken once since she returned home. Since the morning after. Since he’d dismissed her from his life entirely. 

A quiet knock on the bathroom door broke her train of thought.

"Clara?" Mick’s voice, muffled through the wood, was cautious, uncertain. “You okay in there?”

She quickly wiped her face, blinking hard to clear the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, her voice thinner than she’d intended. “Just... give me a second.”

Her brother’s voice softened. “You sound like you’re crying.”

She closed her eyes, the lump in her throat tightening again. The weight of it all pressed on her, unbearable. “I’ll be right out,” she called back, her voice a little steadier now. “Just a minute.”

Clara took a deep breath, gathering what little composure she had left. The test sat on the edge of the sink, staring back at her, and for a moment, she just looked at it.

How did you happen?

She took one last glance in the mirror, slid the test into her waistband, smoothed her hand over her hair, and then stepped out of the bathroom.

[bwobgames]

She and her tea time companion sit for dinner

She asks for the fish, see if they're really better than the ones from the capital

…Well damn. Those southerners were right. Or maybe it's just the way it's cooked. Surely.

Marigold is used to eating in 5 star restaurants, but she'll never prefer them over Nina's home cooked meals.

She finds the train interesting, but not enough to go snoop around, even with all that haunted nonsense.

But she fears their companions might not agree.

She looks around at everyone, snooping at their expressions.

First is her seatmate, Nina.

…She seems to be thinking about something. Worried, maybe.

She'd like to ask, but Nina probably wont like to air her troubles with everyone present.

Could it be… that she forgot something at home?

Is she worried about their clothes? The south is cold after all, even in summer.

Ah, maybe it's because Nadia has been asking for a cat. Maybe she's worried about cleaning all that.

Or perhaps it's something even more simple than that. Maybe she saw a bit of hair on her plate but doesn't want to bother the server.

Hopefully she doesn't believe all that talk about ghosts. Hopefully she is not thinking about that.

Hopefully she is not punishing herself with him again.

…She'll ask after this.

Marigold is not letting that man, alive or dead, give her pain.

Even if Nina herself allows it to.

Their own table mates seem to be in a light conversation about their plans for their camping.

They seem awfully cheery for people who were talking about their dead friend a few hours ago.

Then again, people deal with that differently. She shouldn't judge.

She would know, as several gossip outlets have been judging her for her way of grieving.

Please, she had plenty of time to grieve for her best friend when Nadia was born.

The person that died back then was only wearing his skin.

Moving on to another table, she sees Oliver.

Who is clearly not present at the moment.

He's usually a very observant person, but gets introspective at times.

She has seen him say his observations out loud. And somehow nobody diagnosed him until now.

Ángel seems to be in a strange conversation with Natalia about… conspiracy theories? She's good at making connections, she'll give her that.

Seems like that Sebastian boy is also interested in the passing of trees, or perhaps is he looking at…?

These young people are getting bolder everyday.

She heard that Oliver wasn't doing too well lately. She’ll make sure to invite him for tea.

Marigold might not be the most… warm of people. Their business partners love to make that known. But she'll try her best to make his friends feel comfortable. She'll defeat the stereotype of the evil divorced cold hearted girlboss!!

Wow, she fits a lot of that.

Speaking of her loved ones, she moves on to her- Oh?

That little berry. Thinking he got away with it. She saw that! No phones at the table!

Although… It's not the worst thing to do. He does get nervous around new people so hanging around his internet friends might make him feel better…

But he should be concentrating on his food! It will make him feel fuller and actually enjoy it! Also what if he's watching weird attention span shortening things? He already has trouble focusing!

Ah, but she shouldn't be controlling what he watches online. Or should she? there's a lot of evil people out there ready to scam him monetarily or psychologically. But wouldn't that be a breach of privacy? But what if he's hiding it?

What if he's putting himself in danger again?

He looks like his father.

Marigold cannot say she thinks highly of her mother career. Clearly something went wrong if her kids were so ready to accept an sketchy invitation from the person they put in jail.

Nadia is brave and highly capable, this is obvious. But she really wishes her daughter would ask for help sometimes. To her mother, for example.

Is she thinking of the haunted thing? She knows about that.

Marigold let any interaction between Him and Nadia go on without issue. They didn't fight, they didn't yell, and Nadia needs her father in her life, right? That's what everyone says. So she let them be.

She's still not sure if there was any way to make that better.

Maybe if Marigold wasn't so focused on her gross lesbian fling she would've been a better mother.

…That thought sounded suspiciously like her mother. When will her words disappear from her own head?

“No, mother in my head, ‘Lesbian’ is not a bad word”

She's well old and she's still not sure about those labels for herself.

For now she'll stick with ally. Ángel loves it.

Seems like their own tablemate is also not having a good time. Is he still worried about his career prospects? Seems like her advice of computer programming wasn't convincing enough.

She knows he's looking for something in the same university as Simon. Maybe even the same career?

She loves him like his own child, just like she loves Eva like a sister, so she's worried Owen is putting friendship above his own future. Although, does he even know what he wants?

It's a hard question to ask for a young man like him, it's also something she deeply envies.

She tries not to think about it, but sometimes she dreams.

If she had the choice, what could have she studied?

She could've been an actress, a vet, a scientist, a gardener, a competitive swimmer.

She could've had everything to choose.

She could've had the option to choose.

Some nights she can't help but think she was doomed from the start.

A destiny written in stone.

Time she'll never have back.

Maybe in another life, she'll make all the right choices.

In another life she'll marry Nina, and use Him for insemination.

She'll have her berries, her wife, her friends and a fun career.

and everything will be perfect.

Yeah, right. What is she, a high art major?

There's no thing as perfect or fair in this world.

Her parents might not have been the warmest, but they were right.

To get to such a place, sacrifices need to be made.

Take, steal, cheat-

Kill, if necessary.

And she's done most of those.

“Haha, we really were made for each other”

“But death already did us part”

Accepting reality is never easy. But if she doesn't, who will?

Enough complaining, as Oliver would say: “You're literally rich”

The last person is- what.

What is she doing. Is she… constipated or something?

Vivi is a mystery.

And she'll be a case of lost media if she doesn't bring back DnD nights soon.

Who does Mari have to threaten at her job to give her time?

That small ball of passion, at times a friend at times her 4th child.

Oh, she choked on her water. Truly future pulitzer winner reporter extraordinaire Vivi Villalobos.

At least she doesn't seem somberly worried?

As food is over, she excuses herself to go wash her teeth.

It's 10 pm

<PREV START NEXT>

[belinda-chandra]

If Bobby is really dead and Peter is really leaving the show I don't want him to be suddenly forgotten. I want Athena and her kids to properly grief him and maybe help at his meetings. I want Chim, Hen & Ravi to look for his guidance during a crisis/emergency. I want Buck to get stuck on a recipe and to grab his phone only to remember at the last second and put it down while trying not to break down. I want Eddie to start going to church to feel closer to Bobby because he didn't get to be there during his last days, I want Father Brian to notice this but not say anything because he misses Bobby's visits. I want Maddie and Karen to keep trying to be there for their families and friends but to admit that they're also grieving him. I want the characters to talk to him when he's not there. I want their lives to be affected by his absence. I want Bobby Nash to haunt the narrative. Tim Minear wants to make this show realistic? Here's his chance to do that. Grief is realistic.

[alicentalicent]

This moment in 1x02 probably led Viserys to choose Alicent to marry him.

This moment in 2x04 is when Alicent's doubts really start to sink in, her purpose and her duty, tied to Viserys, start to crack.

(It's fun that the dragon wing breaking is also a nod to Sunfyre falling later in the episode)

(I also like to think that Alicent breaking the dragon could foreshadow the part she will play in being the force opposing Rhaenyra's duty in the following seasons.)

And then we get Alicent saying this. I believe this is the first step in the much-needed processing of what Viserys did to her, I really hope we will get more of this in the next seasons.

[lastnightonthecyclone]

Another fucking wip on fnaf because inconsistency is my skill

[xhyjin]

next door neighbour dilftoji! who, ever since his late wife died shortly after the birth of their only son, megumi, had fallen into bad habits of gambling, drinking, and smoking. he was anything but a good or present father, leaving his son on the front steps of the zen’in clan headquarters. as much as he pretended he wasn’t grieving, he was, and everyone could easily tell. it wasn’t until one day, when he saw his late wife in a dream, telling him to get her son back—to be a father, the man she once knew—that he instantly sobers up and takes his son back from the hands of the clan.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who decided that if he wanted to start anew, he would have to change his surroundings. everything around him reminded him of his late wife, and as much as he loved her, she was holding him back. he spoke to his friend and former handler, shiu kong, about neighborhoods that would be good for a peculiar child like megumi and a place where he could start fresh with no reminders of the past. shiu recommended his own neighborhood—where you just so happened to live.

next door neighbour dilftoji! he moved into your quiet neighborhood with anything but quiet. his voice—loud and commanding—echoed as he yelled at the movers to handle fragile items with more care, all while keeping his son from darting in front of them. it was 7 in the morning when you first heard the noise: his voice, the trucks backing in, the hustle of the move. without even meeting him, you already found yourself annoyed.

you stumbled out of your house, robe loosely hanging around you and your hair a mess from a restless morning disturbed by the commotion. standing on your front steps, you watched the chaos unfold next door, trying to spot the source of that deep, gruff voice. as soon as your eyes landed on him, he locked eyes with you. you shook your head, muttering under your breath, and turned to walk back inside.

next door neighbour dilftoji! after a few hours of getting everything safely into his house, toji decided he would make a good first impression with his new neighbors. he was starting a new life, so even if baking cookies and bringing them to a neighbor was something he’d never normally do, it didn’t matter—because that toji was gone. this was the new toji, a man willing to take risks and leave behind regret.

he had already forgotten your brief moment of eye contact that morning, so when you opened your front door mid-phone call, you weren’t expecting to find him and his son standing there with a box of cookies. the smell was unmistakably fresh, lingering sweetly in the air.

“hi,” toji said, attempting a polite smile that contrasted sharply with his scarred lip and imposing, muscular frame. “my name’s toji fushiguro. this is my son, megumi. we just moved in next door and wanted to introduce ourselves.”

you stared at him in silence for a moment, stunned. you hadn’t expected your loud, irritating neighbor to look so… handsome. and muscular. you’d barely seen him earlier that morning.

“i’m going to have to call you back,” you said, lowering your phone. finally, you replied, “uh, it’s nice to meet you. i’m y/n.” your eyes fell to the box in his hands. “is that for me?”

“oh, yeah,” he replied, glancing briefly at megumi before handing the box to you. “me and megumi baked cookies for you.”

next door neighbour dilftoji! who ever since his brief interaction with you, toji found himself growing more curious about you as each day passed. he noticed you had a job, seeing you leave early in the morning while he was helping megumi into the car for school, and return later in the evening when he sat on the porch, watching megumi play with the neighbourhood kids, yuji and nobara.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who runs into you at the grocery store. megumi sat quietly in the cart while toji stood in the produce aisle, holding a bunch of bananas in one hand and strawberries in the other, debating which to buy. he didn’t even notice you until you cleared your throat.

“hi, toji,” you said shyly, giving him a small smile.

“hi, y/n,” he replied, surprised but glad to see you.

“tough choice?” you teased, glancing at the fruit in his hands.

“yeah,” he admitted with a small chuckle.

“i’d go with bananas. if they go bad, you can always make banana bread,” you suggested, making him laugh.

“good thinking,” he said, placing the bananas in the cart with megumi. from that moment, the rest of the grocery errand turned into something unexpected. the two of you wandered the aisles together, chatting and getting to know more about each other. toji found himself smiling more than he had in a long time, and by the time you both reached checkout, he realized he wouldn’t mind running into you like this more often.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who feels so bad when he has to ask you to babysit megumi on your one day off from work. something unexpected had come up, and he needed to return to the city but couldn’t leave megumi alone. knocking on your door, he stood there with megumi beside him.

when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to see him. “toji, hi,” you said, glancing between him and megumi. “what’s going on?”

“y/n, i’m so sorry. i know this is your day off, but something came up, and i need to get back to the city. i couldn’t find a babysitter last minute. could you please watch megumi? i promise he’s a good kid—no trouble at all,” he said, his tone almost pleading.

“yeah, sure,” you replied without hesitation, opening the door wider for them to step inside.

“i’ll be back early morning,” toji assured you. you nodded. “do you want my phone number?” his expression shifted, almost surprised. “yeah, that’s a good idea,” he said, handing you his phone.before leaving, toji crouched to megumi’s level. “don’t misbehave, alright? i’ll be back for you.” after giving megumi a quick pat on the head and thanking you again, he headed out the door.

next door neighbour dilftoji! who kept true to his word and returned early the next morning, flowers in hand. when you opened the door, still half-asleep, you greeted him with a tired, “hi, toji,” rubbing your eye with one hand.

“hey there, doll,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he quickly cleared his throat. “uh, can i come in?”

you didn’t seem to notice the slip-up and stepped aside to let him in. “megumi’s still sleeping,” you said, your gaze finally landing on the bouquet in his hand. “are those for me?”

he smiled, nodding as he handed you the flowers. “yeah, to thank you for being there for me.”

you took them, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “they’re beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in to smell them.

“i didn’t know which were your favorite,” he admitted, “so i picked the ones i thought were the most beautiful… almost as beautiful as you.”

you froze for a moment, cheeks heating up further as you glanced down at yourself—disheveled hair, wrinkled pajamas, and all. “beautiful? me?”

“yes, beautiful,” he said with a chuckle.

“hope the kid wasn’t too much trouble,” he added, changing the subject.

“no, he’s a good kid—very sweet and polite,” you assured him, toji nodding in agreement.

he hesitated for a moment before speaking. “listen, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“yeah?” you asked, placing the flowers down and filling a vase with water.

“i want to properly thank you for this. do you maybe want to go on a date?”

you looked up at him, wide-eyed. “a date?”

“yeah, i mean… if you want to,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous.

your lips curved into a small smile. “i’d love to, toji.”

his face lit up. “great. are you free thursday?”

you nodded, and his grin grew wider. “a date on thursday with the most beautiful girl in the world,” he said, making your heart flutter.

[goomyloid]

got uty au pilled again, sorry... more info under the cut

an AU where ceroba, in the end, refuses to inject kanako with the serum. even after all her research, she just can't trust that it's totally safe. while kanako accepts this, she still wishes she could eventually be of use somehow, and indirectly blames herself for her father's death.

despite all this, with kanako alive, ceroba is able to grieve chujin in a far less desperate way, still having her daughter by her side. as the years go by, ceroba devotes more and more of her time to finishing chujin's research in hopes of finally making a serum that can save the underground. kanako is determined to help, too -- together, they clean up chujin's lab and make it a far nicer place to work, because they're in this together now. well, in theory.

ceroba still certainly takes care of kanako and does her best to be a good mother, but as time passes, ceroba spends more and more time in the lab trying to find an answer. kanako, being the social butterfly that she is, can't bring herself to always stay shut inside like her mother; she travels daily to Oasis Valley, making friends and becoming the town darling. as ceroba spends more time working, kanako spends more and more time taking care of the estate, trying to spend time outside whenever possible.

but it gets kind of lonely. the ketsukane estate is off outside of Oasis Valley, and not many people come by. she's worried about her mother, who's been shutting her out as she becomes more desperate to find a solution. there's only so much to do at the house.

then, clover falls into the underground and explores the dunes. there are barely any other kids at this spot in the underground -- finally, someone around her age! she's immediately entranced by them and determined to become their friend, even after finding out they're a human -- that just makes them cooler...!

but there's a problem; kanako has seen her father's tapes, she knows that a human soul would be extremely valuable to producing the serum. of course, she wants to help save the underground, and she wants her mother to finally be rid of stress and be able to spend time with her again... but after spending time with clover, kanako knows there's no way she can let clover die. they're like the sibling she never had...

and kanako can't even let her mother know that clover exists, either; she knows exactly what will happen if ceroba finds out there's a human here. and yet, a secret part of her wishes and hopes that maybe, just maybe, ceroba could find value in clover as a person and then they could all live in the ketsukane estate together. it would be a dream come true! maybe there's even some way clover can help ceroba without having to give up their soul...?

but things aren't destined to work out that way. any number of things could happen.

clover could peacefully move on in their quest through the underground, leaving a sad and lonely kanako behind.

or, ceroba finds out about clover in one way or another, and things are not looking good. but would she choose to take clover's life at the cost of her daughter's one and only friend?

what if clover didn't come in peace, but in vengeance?

or maybe ceroba somehow accepts clover, growing to respect them after all is said and done, and she tries to experiment on a living human soul?

or maybe, wracked with grief and loneliness, kanako discards her mother's warnings and takes the new, updated serum herself, determined to become the hero for her family like she always wanted...?

or, something else could happen.

what if, after an unhappy ending, kanako wakes up on that same day again, waiting for clover to come by the ketsukane estate for the first time? she doesn't even know how it's possible, reliving the same few weeks over and over. she just wants to find her happy ending, and she'll search and search for as long as she needs to.

how long can she watch the same endings play out over and over?

[bobbysdeath]

.

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

IN DEFENSE OF TRAVIS MARTINEZ:

Because I’m sick and tired of seeing travis hate everywhere I go.

“Travis was sexist.”

Did he spout some sexist rhetoric in the beginning of the show? Sure. But it’s important to recognize that: A) he changed, and by season 2 he completely stopped, B) he was a teenage boy in the 1990s, and that kind of rhetoric was normal at the time, C) most of his sexist macho tough guy attitude was a complete act that he likely put on to compensate for his insecurity about his own masculinity, and internalized homophobia. (More on that later.)

(Also let’s be real, Travis is basically one of the girls anyway and I’m tired of pretending he’s not.)

2. “Travis didn’t care about Javi.”

Did we watch the same show??? Granted Travis may have had trouble expressing his feelings (also related to his insecurities about masculinity, likely learned from his father, as well as growing up in a patriarchal and homophobic society), but he cared deeply about Javi. In S1E4, Travis literally DUG UP HIS DAD’S GRAVE, through horror, tears, and vomit, in order to retrieve his ring to give to Javi. When Javi disappeared, Travis kept looking for him every day for months, and never gave up, even when logically it would have seemed impossible for him to still be alive. He comforted and reassured Javi when neither of them drew the card. He cradled Javi’s dead body and ate a bite of his raw heart (which was a metaphor for how much he loved him, and a parallel to Shauna eating Jackie’s raw ear.) Maybe Travis wasn’t always there for Javi in the way he needed, but he absolutely loved him, and it’s important to remember that Travis was also a traumatized, grieving, kid who just lost his dad.

3. “Travis slut-shamed Nat.”

As we are literally shown in the show, Travis was not trying to slut shame her, he asked how many times she had done it because he was embarrassed about the fact that he was a virgin, and worried that she would judge him, or that he wouldn’t measure up because he was more inexperienced than her. When she told him she hooked up with Bobby Farleigh, he did not get mad at her because she slept with another guy (he already knew about that, and was fine with it), he got mad because she hooked up with his bully, and then lied to him about it. I don’t blame Nat for this, she didn’t know about it at the time, and didn’t want him to get mad once she found out, but I also don’t blame Travis for being hurt and embarrassed and upset with her for lying about it.

4. “Travis was just kind of a dick.”

Sure, but so were all of them. He acted like kind of a jerk in the first season. So what? Shauna had an affair with her best friend’s boyfriend, lied to her about it for months, and refused to apologize. Misty tried to drug Coach Ben. Nat faked his brother’s death to him (yeah, she was trying to help him move on, but still not cool). All of them called him “Flex” (y’know, the nickname that was used to bully him for years). None of them are perfect or nice or likable all the time, and that’s ok; that’s the whole point. They’re realistic, complex, flawed, morally gray and sometimes unlikable people. They’ve all done bad things, but nothing Travis did is worse than what anyone else on that show has done. He was a traumatized teen whose dad literally just died. Also, me personally, if everyone around me was constantly calling me the mean nickname that was used to bully me since middle school, I would also probably act like a little bit of a dick.

5. “Travis is a straight man.”

Wrong. (Also not really a valid reason to hate someone… But most importantly, just wrong.)

Travis Martinez is clearly a bisexual.

So many of his issues: the insecurity, the bullying, the macho tough guy act, the whole weird complex about his masculinity, all of it stems (at least partly) from the fact that he’s bisexual and has internalized homophobia. The whole “Flex” thing is just thinly veiled homophobia. The main reason why he got bullied is because Bobby Farleigh spread a rumor about him getting back surgery to better suck his own dick. The unsaid implication there is that he’s a man who sucks dick, which is inherently queer, even if it is his own. If you look even slightly past the most surface level interpretation, it’s pretty obvious that Travis was bullied because of homophobia. His performance of stereotypical toxic masculinity was clearly over compensation for the fact that he doesn’t fit into the box of traditional straight masculinity, and was a reaction to the bullying from his peers, abuse from his dad, and internalized homophobia from growing up in a homophobic and patriarchal society. As the show progresses he starts to unlearn that toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia, and he allows himself to be more vulnerable, emotional, and feminine, and as a result, he becomes stronger, more confident, and more respectful of the people around him.

As for Travis being a man… Is he though???

In season 1, Travis is a man (narratively speaking); there is a clear distinction between Travis/Coach Ben and the girls. However, in season 2, we see a stark shift in how Travis is depicted. The separation between Travis and the girls pretty much ceases to exist. Narratively speaking, there is no distinction made between Travis and the other girls; they are one entity—one hive mind. Instead, the emphasis is now placed on the distinction between Coach Ben and the girls/Travis. When Coach Ben watches the Yellowjackets eat Jackie in horror and disbelief, Travis is right there with them, dressed in ancient greek robes along with the rest of them. In season 2, Coach Ben is the only real Man of the group (Travis has narratively become one of the girls, and Javi is just a boy, not a man) and he is shown staying separate from the rest of the group, and growing more and more uncomfortable with the cultish dynamics, while Travis, on the other hand, becomes more and more integrated with the group, as he falls deeper and deeper into cult beliefs, until he is a full-blown devout Lottie worshipper. Of the three males on the show, he is the only one who actually participates in cannibalism with the other Yellowjackets. Also he lost his virginity to a lesbian.

Whether or not you choose to believe that Travis is transfem (I do) you cannot deny that, at least narratively speaking, Travis is literally just a girl.

6. Travis is a victim.

I don’t know why nobody in this fandom seems to acknowledge this, but Travis is a sexual assault victim and I’m tired of people constantly overlooking and ignoring that fact. In Doomcoming, the girls (excluding Jackie, Nat, Tai, and Van) chased him down, sexually assaulted him, and then tried to kill him. That’s not something that’s up for debate or denial, that is literally canon. Stop pretending it didn’t happen. Stop pretending it wasn’t assault. Stop shaming him and making fun of him for struggling with sex, or not always being able to get it up. That’s a normal trauma response after being assaulted/raped. You guys are literally proving the point. This kind of treatment from society towards masculinity and male victims is just playing into the patriarchy and toxic masculinity, and is exactly what made him act the way he did in season 1 in the first place!

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW PART TWO - L.H.

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of everything that occurred last night, Logan decides it's time to stop running from his desires. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Themes of grief and death, Language

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on part one! Didn't expect it to blow up that much. Good news is, it gave me the motivation to write more, so I have lots of ideas for Logan fics!

MASTERLIST | PART ONE

Over two hundred years, Death had become all too familiar for Logan. A foe that kept barreling in his direction, but always fizzled out before it reached him, instead striking those he cherished the most. When he was younger, he used to revel in feeling of being indestructible, immortal even. That faded away rather quickly once he realised what a curse it was, a cruel joke he grew tired of. Alas, the universe continued laughing.

He thought he could avoid all the unnecessary pain and misery by severing all ties to humanity, retreating to the ends of the world all by his lonesome. But not even the strongest soldier could resist the craving for connection for that long. When Charles had offered a place in his sanctuary, he refused at first, wondering why the universe always seemed to work against him. 

Eventually, the need to distance himself from everything and everyone became smaller. Charles had given him a home, a family, a sense of belonging and after a while, you. Logan was not one for retrospection, but he often recollects how drastically his life had changed once he’d accepted the responsibility of being an X-Man. How he’d gained a new purpose. He owed everything to Charles Xavier.

The shovel in his hand gets heavier by the second. He stops digging for a moment, sensing a whole lot of anger, sorrow and desperation waiting to burst out of him. He knew the end was near for Charles, ever since the incident the old man was barely hanging on. There were times when he wished Charles would just let go, just stop fighting against his mind and body, for his own sake. But that didn’t make his death hurt any less.

His own exhaustion was catching up to him too, having spent the last few days - hell, the last few months - putting everyone else before himself. He hasn’t been able to rest despite all your efforts.

As the last of the dirt falls onto the grave, Logan staggers backwards, his shoulders knock into the tree. He slides against the trunk a little as his knees begin to loosen under his weight, unsure whether it’ll be the adamantium poisoning or heartache that’ll get him first.

Laura’s sniffling snaps his attention, he watches as she curls into your embrace, nothing you were saying stops the tears from escaping. He can see you’re trying to keep your composure for the little girl, but he knows you’re just inches away from completely breaking down. Charles was the father you’d chosen, he had saved your life just as he’d done for countless others, brought you into his arms and gave you something to live and fight for. He knows you’re as defeated as he is right now. Despite every cell in his body aching to comfort you, he understands you need the time and space to grieve in your own way.

After moments of silence, the three of you return to the car. There wasn’t a lot of time left for Laura to find her friends and cross the border to get to freedom. Logan uses that to ground himself to reality, helping her would be a way to honour Charles, for everything he had done and represented. He vows that he’ll grant her wishes, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He owes that to Laura, to Charles and to you.

The stars twinkle miles above, painting the night sky with their luminous hue. Logan pulls into the roadside near a lake, deciding it’s in the best interest of everyone to rest tonight. He steps out the car, scouting for a decent place to start a fire. Laura silently accompanies him to gather wood, her eyes follow you as you wander towards the lake, away from the two of them.

Logan senses her need rush to your side, he shakes his head slightly, understanding her distress, “She’ll be okay, kid.” It comes out a little hoarse, having been the first words he’d spoken all day.

All the smoking he’d done in the last two centuries comes in handy, he uses his lighter to spark flames, tending to it before it settles into a calm fire. He runs his hand down his face, his mind has been in overdrive for too long and all he wants is for one moment of quiet. Where he can surrender, stop trying to survive and just live.

“Why are you hiding?” Laura asks him, holding her hands toward the flame.

“What?”

She turns her head to find you in the distance sitting down on the grass with your feet in the water, “From her.”

Logan follows her line of sight, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.” 

“You want to die. Charles told me.”

He scoffs, the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you.” She stands, finally meeting his eyes. “Tell her. If you want to be happy.” She doesn’t stick around for his response, instead making her way back to the car to sleep.

Her words strike a chord in him, he huffs lightly, ducking his head into his chest. What the hell did she know? Happiness wasn’t something he envisioned for himself. No, that often came in the form of alcohol or stupid cage fights. He never let himself indulge in anything else, having learned his lessons from what seems like a lifetime ago. 

The leaves crunching under your footsteps draws his attention, you sit down an arm's length away, prodding the fire with a stick. He doesn’t know how to address the giant elephant hanging in between the two of you. Last night, when you’d asked the question, the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. So easy and so simple. But he withdrew, in such a cowardly manner too, deflecting as if he doesn’t ache for you with each passing day.

“He taught me how to play chess.”

He studies you for a brief moment, the tear tracks on your face shine against the orange hue of the fire.

“We used to sit every day, in the garden, I’d run straight to him after classes were done.” You continue, a fond smile on your face, “I was convinced he was cheating, you know? I never beat him.”

Your resolve crumbles and sadness washes over you once again, “And I never will.”

It dawns on him too, the finality of what had happened last night. He almost laughs at the thought of Charles, beloved by so many, resting in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. The universe is a cynical motherfucker.

If anything, he hopes the man felt proud in his last moments, happy for all he’d achieved in his lifetime. Logan wishes he could be even half the person his mentor was. He always berated him to reach out to those around him. To you. That joy was but a breath away from his grasp, all he needed to do is let you in. He must’ve sensed how well the two of you would get along, how you needed each other’s presence as a pillar of support.

“Why did you keep coming back?”

The question renders him a little speechless. Memories flash across his mind - Rogue, Bobby, Storm, but mostly, you. The two of you had always tiptoed around each other when it came to feelings, at times getting enough courage to finally say something, but never following through.

You stand up, thinking he’s absolutely not in the mood to talk. You don’t blame him either. That’s the thing between you two - there was always some silent understanding of the other.

“You.”

It leaves him so quietly, he’s not sure if you heard him. He’s already looking at you when you turn around, something in your eyes he’s never noticed before. Tell her. If you want to be happy. There’s no reason to hide anymore.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” He starts slowly, “You kept… creeping into my life and I… I couldn’t stay away.” A smile, a genuine smile, appears on his face, one that hadn’t graced him in a long while.

“I’ve been around for a long time - more than I should’ve.” He continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I always… felt like I didn’t deserve to survive. It shouldn’t be me, standing here instead of someone else. But you, being around you… made me want to try.” A weight forms in his throat, he swallows it down, “Try to live not just for you - but for me too. I can never thank you enough for that. For sticking with me, for trusting me, for letting me… love you.”

You close the distance, gently resting your hand against his cheek. He leans into your touch almost instantly, even that simple gesture is enough for him. But you don't end there.

"Logan... I love you too."

He thinks his heart stops, your admission knocks the wind out of him. The old man was right, everything he'd wanted was right in front of him. He leans into you, tilting your chin upwards and kisses you with a burning passion. All the pain he'd suffered sinks to the back of his mind, nothing but a shadow compared to what he's feeling at the moment. When you pull back, doe-eyed and out of breath, he realises this is it. You're it.

In the distance, he catches a smile form on Laura's face, her eyes still shut as she pretends to sleep.

And we're done! Always going to be a happy ending.

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 1]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.1K

(Chapter warning(s): Character death, grieving/ funeral, injury, recollection of previous argument, Hongjoong is in a weird place with his feelings.)

"Thank you for coming." Hongjoong had a stoic look on his face as he deeply bowed to the people that came to pay respects. The people bowed back, reaching out to shake his hand with a comforting smile on their faces.

"She was a good woman. Kind." They patted him on the shoulder. All he could do was stiffly nod in reply.

"Please help yourself to the food and refreshments." He forced a small smile and gestured to the buffet spread where the other people were all seated.

"Should we ask him to take a break?" Yunho leaned over to ask Seonghwa as the older collated the beoseom money together.

"You can try but he's not going to like it. Just let him do what he needs to do." Seonghwa replied.

"Hyung loved his mother. They didn't have the best relationship but I know he always missed seeing her and talking to her." Yunho sighed with a small frown. Seonghwa hummed in agreement.

"But this is for him to figure out. We'll just help him where he wants us." Seonghwa said.

Hongjoong recognised all the people that came. All friends of his late father and now, mother, or his own allies. They were men that worked for him or with him. Although they didn't know his mother at all, he knew that Wooyoung had gathered all their men to come and support him as the leader.

"Oh, coming." Hongjoong noticed some people going to pay their respects and went to his post as the son, keeping his head lowered as they bowed to his mother's casket.

"You have our condolences, Hongjoong sshi. If you need anything, let us know." The leader of a small gang shook his hand.

"Thanks." He nodded. Hongjoong knew their motive, it was to create favours and forge loyalties with Ateez.

"Umm, excuse me." Hongjoong looked up at the sudden entrance of a light, tinkling voice. He eyes fell on the girl that entered, she looked so different, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Who are you?

"Here you go." You took out an envelope of money and handed it to Yunho and Seonghwa, who received it with a bow.

"You can head that way." Seonghwa gestured to where Hongjoong was standing. From the looks of it, Seonghwa seemed just as entranced and/or curious about you as Hongjoong was. You nodded and headed to him.

"You must be Hongjoong sshi." You looked at him with familiarity, still cradling the small bouquet of flowers in your arms. All Hongjoong could do was nod.

How did you know him? He, for sure, didn't know you. There wasn't an inkling of recollection seeing your face or hearing your voice.

"If it's okay with you, can I place this bouquet by the casket? It's our favourite flower." You asked politely.

"Go ahead. Thank you." He nodded. 'Our' favourite? His eyes followed you as you placed the bouquet of white tulips by the casket. The bouquet was simple but elegant.

"I'll miss our afternoon chats. Take care of yourself and rest easy." You prayed softly as you bowed to his mother's casket.

"Thank you for coming." Hongjoong said to you when the both of you stood up from your kneeled positions.

"S-Sorry..." Your bottom lip quivered and tears streamed down your face as you struggled to wipe them all away. There was so much grief and upset on your face, you probably felt more grief than Hongjoong did. Hongjoong held his handkerchief out to you but you hesitated, you didn't know him to take it.

"It's okay." He whispered, trying to convince you. With a shaky hand, you took the white cloth and dried your tears. All this time, Hongjoong was trying to study you.

"Thanks." You smiled awkwardly.

"How do you know me? Did you know my mother?" He asked, even if the answer was obviously yes.

"She comes by my shop almost every afternoon to chat with me. She'll even bring tea and snacks with her. I recognise you from the photos she shared with me." You giggled.

"I see... Well-"

"Hongjoong hyung, there are more mourners. Do you want me to take over?" Someone came over.

"No, it's fine, San ah." Hongjoong assured his brother and bowed his head to you before going back to where the casket was. You tucked the handkerchief into your pocket.

"There are snacks and refreshments." You were directed to the area where the other mourners were chatting, eating and drinking. There were barely any other women around, all men dressed in suits. It almost felt like a business convention, not a funeral.

"Who is that?" Wooyoung asked San when he came back to where they were seated.

"No idea." San shook his head. The 7 Ateez members watched you with curiosity. You sat in the corner by yourself, you didn't take any food or drinks.

"Do any of you know her or recognise her?" Mingi blinked.

"I think she genuinely knew my mother." The boys looked up to see Hongjoong standing behind them.

"Really?" Even Seonghwa was shocked too. They all knew that everyone who came didn't know Hongjoong's mother. How did someone like you befriend Hongjoong's mother?

"She's definitely not from underground." Yeosang said. You were still wiping stray tears that escaped your eyes.

"She's... really grieving the lost of my mother... Even more than me." Hongjoong observed.

"Her name is (y/n)." Yunho said, reading from the mourners book of those that came. The others didn't even notice that Hongjoong left them, going over to where you were seated alone. When Hongjoong pulled out the chair next to yours, you blinked, breaking out of your reminiscing moment.

"Apologies." He said.

"Don't apologise, you must be busy having to do this on your own, on top of the fact that you're mourning and grieving too." You shook your head with a soft smile.

"I have a good support system." He nodded over to where the other Ateez members were.

"You must haven known my mother well to know her favourite flower." Hongjoong brought the conversation back.

"She always came to buy them from me, along with other flowers. That's when I learnt that we both have the same favourite flower. I'm a florist actually." You informed.

"Oh... And here, I didn't even know my mother had a favourite flower." He chuckled.

"Hongjoong sshi." You shocked him and frankly, yourself too, when you placed a hand over his own in comfort.

"I'll miss her too but it'll be okay. From the way your mother spoke fondly of you, I could tell that you both had a great relationship. At least you'll still have your good memories of her with you." You smiled softly. Suddenly, Hongjoong retracted his hand.

"Excuse me." He stood up, buttoning his blazer. He watched as your face fell.

"Hongjoong sshi. I-I'm sorry." You stuttered, realising what you just said to him and how your words crossed a boundary. Hongjoong clenched his jaw and walked back to where Ateez was.

"Woah, hyung. You okay?" Jongho asked, noticing the sudden change in Hongjoong's mood and expression.

"I'm fine." Hongjoong replied through gritted teeth.

Despite what happened, you still stayed until the final standoff. Hongjoong was unexpectedly hypervigilant of where you were, standing on your own at the back of the crowd.

"Hang on." Before the Ateez boys could load his mother's casket into the back of the hearse, he stopped them.

"Captain?" They were confused. Leaning down, Hongjoong grabbed a stalk of flower from your bouquet and placed it on top.

"Carry on." He cleared his throat, side eyeing you. You were watching the entire time as you cried softly to yourself. All the mourners that hadn't left bowed to the hearse as it closed. Hongjoong, still holding his mother's picture, walked to the front seats where he would follow along to the burial site.

"We'll follow behind, hyung." Wooyoung said to him. Hongjoong nodded and entered with Mingi closing the door behind him. The 7 entered their respective vans that were prepared.

As the hearse began to pull out of the drive way, Hongjoong spotted you walking along the streets, arms hugging yourself.

"Who are you?" He whispered as you walked further away.

When the news of his mother's passing first came until this moment, Hongjoong hadn't shed a tear. Was he cruel or unfilial for not doing so? Or were tears just a sign of weakness?

"Good memories?" Hongjoong turned to his mother's picture, remembering what you said to him.

You sighed as you made your way into your apartment. After you removed your shoes, you fell back onto the couch.

"I can't believe you're gone." You said, feeling tears well up in your eyes again as you thought about Mrs Kim and her not being around any longer. Maybe because you grew up without a mother, she was the closest thing to a mother that you had.

"Can I help you?" The doorman asked when he saw how confused you were upon entering the building.

"Oh, good morning. Sorry to bother you but I'm looking for Mrs Kim? I hope I have the right address." You scratched your head, bowing to the older male.

"Do you mean the Mrs Kim that stays in the penthouse? I'm sorry but she passed away yesterday." He informed.

"W-Wait, what?" You couldn't believe it. The flower bouquet slipping from your hands.

"Are you okay, agashi? Yes, unfortunately, Mrs Kim passed." He picked up the bouquet, placing a hand on your shoulder. It was so shocking you couldn't even cry.

"Are you family?" He asked. It took you a while to answer as the news was still sinking in.

"N-No... I'm not but I knew her..." You tried your best to form a coherant answer in your head but it was too difficult.

"I'm sorry, agashi." He said sadly. You bowed your head and turned around, leaving the building. When you reached home, you searched funeral homes online and there it was, her name and her picture. It only solidified that what the doorman said was true, the closest person to a mother that you've had was gone.

"I can't believe I said that. (y/n), what did you do?" You facepalmed when you remembered what you said to Hongjoong. Who were you to tell him that?

"He's her real son, you're not." You scolded yourself, holding Hongjoong handkerchief in your lap.

Mrs Kim always spoke about Hongjoong with such a sad smile, indicating that their relationship wasn't amicable.

There was love, of course. But you could hear the regret and guilt in her voice. All you knew was that if you were to run into him again, you'll definitely apologise for overstepping.

Hongjoong seemed cold but you were grateful that he placed one of your flowers on top of her casket before the hearse left. Whether it was done for you or for her, Hongjoong's gesture warmed your heart.

-

"Where's he?" Seonghwa asked as he climbed up the stairs to the second floor. The younger ones nodded over to Hongjoong's back. The captain leaned against the banister of the terrace, a glass of whiskey held by his fingertips.

"He's still there. Been there since we've come back." Yeosang informed.

"(y/n) (y/l/n). She's a florist in Hongjoong hyung's territory, studying botany part time. Practically as normal as it gets." Jongho walked over, closing a folder. Seonghwa took it and read it.

"As long as she isn't a threat." San shrugged.

"Far from. If there was a motive for her to get close to Mrs Kim, it's not in the file." Jongho said, pouring himself a drink.

"But damn, she seemed to be closer to Mrs Kim than Hongjoong hyung was." Mingi stated and Seonghwa slapped the back of his head for being so direct.

"What? It's the truth..." Mingi rubbed his head. Yunho sighed, patting his best friend's back.

"Hyung will be fine, right? He has to be. He's our captain and our leader. Let's just give him some time then he'll bounce back like always." Wooyoung said with a small frown. Seonghwa nodded in agreement. Although Hongjoong suppresses his feelings and emotions, he always puts Ateez first.

"Yes, Hongjoong will be okay. He just needs space now. And don't bring up the girl anymore, okay?" Seonghwa said. The younger 6 nodded their heads obediently.

"Hyung, what happened between Hongjoong hyung and his mother?" San asked.

"No idea. Even if I did, it's not my story to tell." Seonghwa shrugged.

He is Hongjoong's best friend and second in command, but he didn't know what was Hongjoong's relationship with his mother. It was almost a love-hate relationship, for Hongjoong at least.

"Go back to work. Give Hongjoong a few days off, I'll be taking over his duties in the mean time." Seonghwa informed.

"Sure, hyung." All of them split up to go back to work. Seonghwa cast one more worried glance at his best friend's back before leaving.

Hongjoong sighed as he took another sip of whiskey. Even as he shovelled the dirt over his mother's casket, he didn't shed a tear. The heartache was there but he couldn't will himself to cry. He watched as the flower he placed on top got sullied by the dirt.

"She's really gone." He breathed out.

"You're really gone." He repeated as if he was speaking directly to his mother, clenching the glass in his hand.

You, the girl that appeared out of nowhere, seemed to have a much better relationship with his mother than he did. You cried while Hongjoong was emotionless.

"Damn it." Hongjoong must have channeled all his frustration to his hand because before he knew it, the crystal shattered into pieces.

"Hyung!" Yeosang rushed out, having seen the whole thing.

"I'm fine, Yeosang." Hongjoong hissed, cradling his now injured hand. Yeosang gently took it into his own hands, looking at how bad is was. Blood began to drip on the tiles.

"No, it's not fine. There's crystal shards in your hand now. Come." Yeosang frowned and brought Hongjoong in.

"Get someone to clean the terrace." Yeosang said to a passing butler, who nodded with a deep bow. He brought the captain to his office where his medical supplies were. Thankfully, Hongjoong didn't protest and sat down, patiently waiting for Yeosang to get what he needed to treat his hand.

"Don't move." Yeosang said as he took forceps and tried to remove the crystal pieces from the cuts. Luckily it wasn't too deep that he would need stitches.

"Are you not going to ask me anything?" Hongjoong asked as Yeosang took a magnifier to look for any smaller pieces.

"No. What's there to ask?" Yeosang asked back. At that, Hongjoong sighed and just leaned back in the seat.

"This is going to sting. Bear with me." Yeosang took the antiseptic and spray it over Hongjoong's hand, causing the leader to let out an onslaught of curse words and winces.

"I saw the butler cleaning glass on the terrace. What happened?" San came in.

"Just a small accident." Hongjoong sighed again, watching Yeosang use gauze to wrap up his hand.

"We're done. If it starts to bleed through the bandages, you have to get them changed. If not then I'll check on them in a few days." Yeosang said as he used clips and medical tape to secure the bandage. Hongjoong nodded and stood up.

"Thanks, Sangie." He left Yeosang's room. San stared at where their captain disappeared to.

"Everyone deals with grief differently, whether they want to admit it or not." San said and Yeosang let out a hum in agreement, clearing the bloodied gauze and area.

"He'll be okay. Hyung is strong." Yeosang assured.

When Hongjoong went upstairs to go back to his room, he walked past the second floor lounge and saw a file there.

'(y/n) (y/l/n)'

So, the boys went to search up on you and who you were. Reaching down, Hongjoong took the file and tucked it under his arm, retreating to his room.

"Florist... Studies botany... That's it?" He read the file as he walked. If there was anything else, even secrets, he knew Jongho and Yunho would have found it by now. No piece of information escapes those two. They can source information about a person's entire life on their computers, it's why they're the best.

"Oh?" Hongjoong paused, eyebrows raising when he saw the location of your shop. It was in the territory that he took care of, which was also the area where his mother's house was.

Despite that, Hongjoong has never once visited his mother nor has he spoken to her in years.

"How could you do this? How could you do this to me?! To us?!" Hongjoong yelled, seething with so much anger.

"I know... I'm a horrible mother, I'm sorry Hongjoong ah." His mother shook her head, tears in her eyes as she faced her angry son. She didn't even bother to give an excuse.

"Why?! Why would you do this?" He faced her, his own tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I couldn't just standby and watch. I couldn't." The woman wrapped her arms around herself pitifully. This time, Hongjoong didn't hug her.

"After everything, you'll still side with him. After knowing what he did to all of us, including you, you still..." Hongjoong shook his head, unable to finish his sentence. He was just filled with so much rage he couldn't even breathe properly.

"Get out. I never want to see you again." He turned away, hearing her soft footsteps leave his office and disappear.

"Seonghwa." Hongjoong called out, knowing that his second in command was standing nearby and most probably overheard the entire exchange that happened.

"Yeah?" Seonghwa walked in.

"I want her out of here now. Buy her a house or whatever, somewhere I don't have to see her." Hongjoong ordered.

"Sure, Hongjoong." Seonghwa bowed his head and exited the office. Hongjoong let out a yell, angrily swiping everything off his desk. Papers flews and things broke but he didn't care.

Seonghwa ended up buying his mother a penthouse apartment in the territory that Hongjoong managed. Although Hongjoong didn't like that idea, Seonghwa gave an excuse that at least Hongjoong could keep an eye on her.

He didn't know that Seonghwa did that so if he ever wanted to see his mother again or let her make amends for what she did, he'll know where she is.

But it was too late anyway. Hongjoong's mother was gone, there were no more amends to make, no more apologies.

"Great relationship? Good memories?" Hongjoong bitterly scoffed once again when he remembered your words, throwing your file aside and going to take a much needed shower.

He needed to get out of his head.

~

Series masterlist

[kabsey]

It's time for... the Dellamorte thought of the day! Yay!

Today's theory: Caterina favored Lucanis because they share the same (unhealthy) coping mechanism.

When Davrin asks Lucanis how he survived the Ossuary, he says that he "shut down completely," ignoring any thought or feeling that did not relate to survival and escape.

I would be willing to bet Lucanis's favorite cooking utensil that Caterina did the same thing when her family was murdered. I bet the pyres weren't even cold before she started the boys' training. Her brain blocked it all out except for one thought: keep these boys alive.

And this suited Lucanis fine. ("I don't need time. I need to work.") He saw his grandmother lock all that terrible pain and grief away, and he said, "Great idea, Nonna."

But what if Illario couldn't? What if he needed to cry and had nightmares and broke things when he couldn't take the horror of it all? What if every time he did, it reminded Caterina and Lucanis of the agony they were trying so desperately to ignore? What if it made him vulnerable?

"Vulnerability could get him killed!" shouted Caterina's brain.

So she tried to beat it out of him. She berated him for his weakness. She encouraged Lucanis to disdain him, using his cousin as another blunt instrument with which to punish him for the grave sin of having feelings ("with which to save him," corrected her brain).

So the three of them never properly mourned: Caterina and Lucanis as a way of coping and Illario because he was forbidden to.

And I don't think it's possible for any combination of the three of them to have any kind of real relationships with each other until they take the time to grieve that first horrible loss.

I think Illario could if he got away from them and the Crows, at least for a while. I have less hope for Lucanis, but perhaps he could if he ever became a father and/or fledgling trainer and realized how damaging it is to treat children that way. He may even get glimpses of it when he becomes First Talon and, for the first time in his life, is responsible for someone's life besides his own.

Or perhaps he sees his friends mourn their own losses during Veilguard, and he, in time, slowly asks how they do it. (Imagine how much Emmrich could help him. No wonder Lucanis hates the Necropolis and its reminders of death. But imagine if he could learn to appreciate some of its beauties.)

I don't know if Caterina could ever truly mourn the loss she suffered. It's too big, and she has hidden from it for three decades. The killers who murdered her children and grandchildren also murdered whoever Caterina Dellamorte was before that day.

[pathologicalreid]

angst masterlist

main masterlist

note: italicized titles denote requests; asterisks (*) mark all retired!reader fics; plus signs (+) mark hurt/comfort.

buried alive (2), (3): in which the BAU races against the clock to rescue you from a killer team

the archer: in which a trip to your hometown leads an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

brilliance: in which reader goes into labor after a fight and spencer is nowhere to be found

a father's daughter: in which your father doesn't approve of your relationship, but who knows how he'll react when reid jumps into action after a threat against your life

*stuck between a rock and a hard place: you, an undercover agent, uncover a hidden secret of the country's largest operation, putting your life in danger and under the protection of the BAU.

*the space between us: the adjustment between never being home and always being home starts to take a toll on you

*this is the job: you and Spencer (almost) get into a fight about the demands of your job.

sense memory: after eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

no sign of danger: when SWAT makes a mistake that puts you in danger, your boyfriend is... displeased

next of kin (2):disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

perennial: unrequited love brings spencer to his death bed, unless you can rescue him

work song: no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her

can you come get me? when you manage to escape your captor, and your first call is to spencer

epiphany: a story in four parts, before, during, after, and epiphany

+resilient: in which your boyfriend lends you and hand when your own are working against you

+dazed days: your job at the FBI is hard, but life with spencer is easy

+your needs, my needs: washing spencer's hair after his attempts to save a life go awry

+don't lose your head: a stalker uses your work as a tudor history professor to follow your every move, so you go to the only place you can think of for help - the BAU

+the ninth step: spencer starts to make amends after mexico - and he's starting with you

+don't look in the mirror: in which spencer helps you when you're using sex as a poor coping mechanism

leave a message after the beep: when you go missing on a business trip in texas, the bau travels to investigate, but the situation might be more than they anticipated.

for the fear of falling apart: following her gunpoint confession, your sister pressure you into airing your grievances at Rossi's wedding

+and now i have to act like i can't read your mind: your sobriety is broken by an old 'friend', and spencer's there to help you navigate a new reality

extraordinary measures: in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

blowing smoke: in which Spencer asks you out on a date, but you know better than to say yes

too heavy to hold: in which you and Spencer grieve the loss of the most important person in your life, your son

all the debts i owe: in which Spencer takes your kids into account when deciding whether or not he should take a plea deal, and it doesn't go the way you expect

merry christmas, please don't call: in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

losing you: in which you being in danger in the field elicits a response from Spencer that you're not used to - anger

the angel of the bottomless pit: in which you cope with Spencer's mortality after he's shot in the neck

the anniversary effect: in which the anniversary of reader's assault nears and Spencer would move heaven and earth to make sure she's okay

come home with me: in which you are chosen as the member of the BAU who gets to retrieve Spencer from prison

that gold mine changed you: in which Spencer won't open up to you following his release from prison and you've reached your breaking point

a long way to go: in which your family breaks no contact and Spencer reminds you that you're doing the right thing

the lost daughter: in which JJ goes missing in the middle of the night, and Spencer's attempts to comfort you completely fall through

central nervous system: in which you are drugged on what should've been a routine case

black hole: in which the BAU has to race against the clock to find you after you've been buried alive, again

called you again: in which you make a late night phone call to your ex-boyfriend because you're convinced he's the only thing that can lull you to sleep

[fallenclan]

Pls ramble about Maplestar i didn't think much of him at all when he was around

:3

okay so imagine. You are born into Fallenclan as a fresh little kitten. You are told at a very young age that your mom isn't around anymore, but your dad loves you and your two siblings more than anything, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you all are happy and successful. Your siblings are louder than you, more outgoing than you, and arguably more likeable than you, but they look to you as the cat to follow when your dad isnt around, so it's your job to look after them. You're the oldest, after all.

Later into your kithood you are told that your mother died giving birth to the three of you. If you didnt exist, she would still be alive.

You become an apprentice. Your sister is mentored by the cool older cat that is also your friend's mom. Your brother is mentored by one of your dad's best friends, a cat you've known since birth. You are apprenticed to the deputy of Fallenclan--she cares about you, and the clan, but she's also strict, and tells you in no uncertain terms that she expects you to be great. Not good. Great. You think, "If I am not great, is it my fault?" You try your best. You wonder if it is enough.

You become a warrior. Your sister takes on a mate, your brother does, too. Both of them have kits. You never were interested in having a mate, but you can't help but wonder if that's what your clan, your father, wants you to do. Your father, in the meanwhile, takes over the job that your mentor had, and becomes deputy of Fallenclan. Then he becomes leader. He becomes legend. Cats at gatherings say to you, "You must be so proud!" You are. When your back is turned, they say "The son of Goldenstar, he'll be something special, I'm sure."

The deputy, a cat known for her strength, loyalty, and honor, retires, and chooses you out of everyone to take her place. Your father assures you that you'll do great. Your siblings cheer you on and offer their support. You refuse it, politely. You will be a great deputy if you have to pull out all of your fur to do it--and you will do it by yourself. Are you really great if some of your greatness is borrowed? The whole clan depends on you.

Under the cover of night, the clan is attacked. The former deputy dies. One of your best friends dies. Your brother dies. Four kits, six warriors, and one elder die. You are hardly wounded. For moons you keep the night guard and torture yourself thinking about what you could have done to change things. What you could have done better.

Time passes. You age, your sister ages, your father ages. As leader, he has nine lives, but they slowly dwindle. One evening, he's missing from camp longer than he said he would be, and you and your sister go looking for him. You find his body at the bottom of a cliff. You grieve until sundown, and then you travel to receive your nine lives. You see the faces of all the cats you outlived. All the cats you failed. Your niece and great-nephew, your brother, your mentor, your father, your mother. You wake up and it is only you and your medicine cat huddled together in a cave. Your skin hurts, you can feel each fur on your body. You walk home.

You discover that your former apprentice is a murderer. With no other options, you exile him from the clan and watch as he is escorted away. If you had been a better mentor, would he have lived a kinder life? Would he have forgiven his long-time enemy? You'll never find out.

A neighboring clan, which has had it out for Fallenclan since your father was an apprentice, declares war. You run yourself ragged making plans and trying to keep your warriors safe and alive. There are battles, there are scars, but there are no deaths, and the war ends only a few moons later. You congratulate yourself for this feat, and then wonder why it was only when you became leader that war was declared.

Every death that passes, you wonder if you could have prevented it. Every loss that your sister suffers, your nephews and nieces suffer, you contemplate how to fix. You are old now, and there are few Fallenclan cats that knew you before you were an apprentice, before you were a warrior, before you were deputy or leader. You're not a cat, anymore, you are a shelter; protecting your clan and paying little mind to your own needs.

You take a hunting patrol by yourself, late one night. In a dry riverbed, you feel the ground rumble, and look upstream to see a flash flood clawing its way towards you.

You wonder, "Am I fast enough to outrun it?"

You aren't.

[krewekreep]

Baby Daddy Red Flags: Bleach Edition (😜🤍)

This one…this one for the sluts! 😭💕 I’m an old anime bitch like lemme get it out my system! (We gonna tag this #ToxicTalk lmaoo, this is a safe space)

(If you wanna know who we share 😒, I’ll add an asterisk or whatever. ((They still mine first 😂💝🫡)) (will update and repost with new additions, semi-live post)

***ICHIGO: Lemme get my baby daddy out the way. Biggest issues would be his availability before and after the kid. Probably got pregnant in a makeup sex situation anyway. Ichigo doesn’t seem to type to breakup but will say let’s break. Based on how selfless he is it also can be seen coming from him not being able to save his mom—so he may have a savior complex. It may seem valiant at first like “oh wow you became friends with Chad helping him with bullies? You became closer to Orihime (😒) after helping her grieve her brother? You’re such a good person!” Til you realize seniority is in place and when his friends call he drops whatever he is doing to go help. It’s been time, money, etc and increasingly his selflessness comes off as codependent. Like he can’t stop trying to make up for something that wasn’t his fault.

He will also randomly reserve to right to become reclusive. Not necessarily secretive but less energetic, talkative, or engaged. (You def realize your baby got some functional depression going on. Iykyk). Might not annoy you but the random times he doesn’t want to be touched or seemingly avoids you does hurt…but he sincerely comes back letting you know he was in a weird space etc.

Ichigo’s biggest yes or no is if you’ll be able to sometimes come second or third (likely til you marry and/or have kids with him.) His father and sisters are absolutely #1, his friends are #2, and his oath to the Soul Society and humanity at large is a consequence of him protecting the first two so that’s of course #3. See where I’m going? Even on your best days you might be upset he runs off to Rukia’s or Orihime’s aid. That he has to “save the world,”to save you too. Jealous types might really become frustrated with Ichigo. And tbh I don’t see him breaking out of his ways. He won’t see a need to because there’s real results of his good deeds in his life. He knows he’s saved lives, so he knows he can continue to—so will you be able to handle the fact his duty and mindset will be self sacrificing? I don’t know I think I’d tie him down with a baby and move on.

**KENPACHI: I fully accept and am attracted to his animalistic tendencies. I absolutely can admit that about myself 😭 but…realistically you’d def have to tell him he’s too rough during sessions. He’s grown up wayward, defensive, survival mode, stomach touching his back— during a time so seemingly historical and old who knows how bad the conditions of poverty were—most kids died if they simply weren’t rich and able to eat. Or turned to crime at extremely young ages or exploited….That’s just global history in real life. And the soul society is that much more complex and arduous. Kenpachi will be a man of few words but immense action. If you want someone who will open up even eventually that is not Kenpachi Zaraki. You will highly likely never know of his past because he will never say he is excruciatingly doing everything to never have to. And no, he won’t communicate ever if anything terrible is on his mind. Although kenpachi is coded as barbaric he really is just that protective—he’s as angry as he will be based solely upon someone’s proximity to him emotionally. You and Yaru will be so exclusively held in a regard he won’t even understand. Just the black hole of his awareness he’ll surpass anything to save y’all. He won’t speak on why Lady Unohana isn’t around anymore (new anime, manga lore). But again, when he ends up rough too many nights in a row you distance yourself from him. He can’t admit to you he disassociates and goes back to bad times. He can’t tell you your comfort and warmth makes him remember the times he needed it before—he doesn’t mean to hurt you but he lives for a fight. But he wants to stop making everything and everyone something to “conquer.” He’ll be a real deal handful and it will solely up to you to either tell him you can’t be with him until he figure shit out or you’ll stick beside him and work through it together. (In this case Yaru is the “kid” yall share, I see him being weary of birthing a child and being a dad in such a “visceral” way. Will have total abandonment trauma and just can’t see him getting over it completely to bring new life into a world he already sees the worst in tbh.) but in terms of “baby momma” treatment? Or your prioritized and protected best believe. 💕 he also will force you to learn combat cause you should be able to take care yourself too. Which might either be hot or burdensome. You’re gonna know how to fight. And tbh he might try to bring it into the bedroom on some weird let’s play fight shit so watch yourself. That’s a BIG MAN! 😭😂💕 “HA! Now that you know how do a few things why don’t you test it on me?” Big cheeky sneaky ass grin girl don’t fall for it!

BYAKUYA: This is the guy who will match your freak everywhere but in public. No PDA—actually don’t even look at him or try to talk to him in public…be professional. He will be joking with others and you’ll get upset saying “Hey! You let the other members of the society tease you?” And in private he’ll admit it’s just to keep up appearances and he hates it all. 😭 I think his biggest issue will be coming off fake or disingenuous or you’ll have a hard time sincerely seeing him cause he’ll be so different depending on where y’all are. People wouldn’t know he’s like a mom boyfriend who makes sure you eat, sleep, and keep up with yourself. Yes, he will absolutely unintentionally say something insulting like “This doesn’t suit you. Find something else.” And yes he will be very clearly on guard when in public. People will openly wonder why you’re with him tbh. Which will frustrate the both of you of which neither of you ever bring up to the other. Byakuya has lost a love before—he won’t talk about it ever. You MIGHT get something out of Rukia about it cause it was her sister but I doubt she’ll go super intimate about THEIR relationship cause she respects both his and her sister’s privacy. So you might be stuck on an eavesdropping side quest with Renji that amounts to nothing cause he’ll sense yall. He’ll be amused and somewhat touched you wanted to watch him work though. He’s usually the one keeping check or track of things so he’ll never say he likes that you peep on him and mind his business. You care about him and he knows he’s a bit unfair not allowing any PDA. But he so openly loved on Rukia’s sister he couldn’t help the shameful self imposed embarrassment once he had to walk the halls alone…Byakuya will be a very intentional, quiet lover. I doubt he’ll moan very much tbh unless he’s exhausted and allowing you to take care of him. Sometimes he’ll absolutely disappear all day into work. Other times he’ll be sure to direct his underlings to wait on you in his stead. He’s more manageable if you can accept his sometimes snarky, distant, super private ways. As a father he’ll be annoyingly big on exceptionalism and them being smart and talented. You’ll have to be sure he isn’t burdening your kid when you aren’t around. And you’ll have to be sure he doesn’t inadvertently impart his insensitive habits too. Likewise, you’ll ABSOLUTELY have to “deal or no deal” him about giving affection to your kid in public. You will absolutely have to go off and tell him it’s y’all or his image. And yeah now he’s holding both yall hands albeit defeated. 💕😭

AIZEN: Shit…girl (im black my “girl…” is gender neutral don’t be annoying 💕) you already know what it is. Yandare, selfish, self righteous, MEAN, EVIL…but fine and rich as fuck. 😔🫤 it will be a doozy to be with this one. You literally have to know and accept what you getting into bestie. I can’t even warn you, you know! 😭 but seriously if your an aizen bias you accept him as is 😭 psycho ass. So I wanna just write how’d he be as a baby daddy. Now not to get…too mature…but if you happened to be someone captured/kidnapped by him and pregnant…baby you is a victim! BUT ITS FANFIC SOOO if you were the captured baby momma that’s in his realm with him…well girl you in the realm lord you stuck. “Can I go to the human world?” “For what?” “Uh, sun?” “Humph what do you need sun for…” He’ll look down at your crying child and be like “Ugh okay whatever but Grimmjow is your chaperone.” And you won’t care cause Grimmjow lets you run off and live life. Which Aizen knows but the minute you aren’t overtly scared and submissive to him he’ll lose his weird sense of “power.” You’re man crazy bestie. He’s definitely someone you won’t talk back to until you’re a parent and equally going to advocate for your kid. He’ll realize and laugh to himself “Their not really submissive at all…little minx…” and hold you in completely new regard. “So you took me as is because you wanted to?” He’ll start thinking shit that confuses him and decide to randomly kill a grunt to distract himself like no he’s not gonna reflect into a better person. 😂 you’ll have everything you want cause you can’t go nowhere 😭. Mind you yes the sex is mind blowing so you sadly do take what positives are there…his eyes don’t fall sexually to anyone but you. His body doesn’t respond certain ways to anyone but you. And as you stand next to him more and more he’s leaning into you and your baby’s energy rather than tryna to overtake yall with his. Just don’t speak about the change and it’ll be fine. The minute you tease or openly acknowledge his becoming softer and less controlling you’ll ruin all the progress you made. Let him feel like he’s in control or whatever.

New Additions (1):

Hitsugaya: (adult of course) Hitsu will be a blend of Byakuya and Ichigo. The best aspects of him will be how attentive and actionable he is about his love for you. But — he will shy away from PDA and sometimes have moments of separated solitude. Unlike Byakuya, he will absolutely open up to PDA, just will never be the initiator of it. Maybe grab your hand at the end of the day to hurry back home or stare at you as long as he can while he observes your dutiful working. He’ll be shy always which keeps your love feeling young and refreshed. You’ll always be able to make him blush and unlike Ichigo, he’ll warm up to you imposing yourself on his alone time. He’ll be big on love making and planning when to have a child so it will be less spontaneous. He’ll have the baby registry and wishlists prepared, printed, and passed out to members of the Soul Society. He’ll enjoy trips to the human world to acquire new toys and trinkets for your baby.

As a baby daddy he’s almost too protective. You wonder what he’s been through as he’ll have a firm grip of your hips as you cradle your child. He’ll have a habit of looking at your baby and then between the both of you stunned at how he can see the perfect blend of your features on your child’s face. He’ll be very close to a simp honestly (which I’m a fan of) and be at your beck & call no matter the hour. Definitely the dad to tell you don’t worry about tending to the little one, keep resting cause he knows how tired you get. He’s honestly the perfect idea of a new father as he’ll be bumbling a bit but with so much to prove. I realize I kinda didn’t write red flags cause I truly see Hitsu adjusting to parenthood and a long term relationship the best. Only thing I can think is that he’ll be overtly willing to sacrifice himself for your family’s safety. So any massive issue in the Soul Society will make your heart sink a little because while he’s capable he’s been in enough life threatening predicaments to cause ample, appropriate worry. He’ll be hard to break out of working I think until your child starts schooling which could be frustrating cause he’ll overcompensate parenting in lieu of his work commitments. Overall, I think he’d be the baby daddy with the least to really worry about.

Renji: Oh lord— all tea, all shade this man will STRUGGLE. « What do you mean the baby is hungry AGAIN ? You just breastfed! WAIT DO NOT PULL YOUR TIT OUT IN PUBLIC WOMAN ! » He’ll have a hard time adjusting to your freedom as a breastfeeding mom for sure (if you choose to). Work ? What’s work? One thing you can count on is that he will absolutely commit to being a family man and even a stay at home dad. He’ll take all his PTO or even « quit » (basically will say don’t call me to help unless the Soul Society is about to die.) He will wait on you hand & foot because he can’t imagine how much your body and mind has gone through and the strength it takes to be so tired but smile and laugh with him and your kiddo. But, he may end up a bit controlling about you leaving the house without him. He’ll either become a sad puppy or an angry old man. « Baby…what do you mean you want me to stay home ? 😓🥺 » or «  Woman, what did I tell you about going out without me ? What if a crazy person tried to rob you ? » You laugh at him always being some level of dramatic but it may get annoying how clingy and worried he’ll become. You’ll have to remind him you lived this long for a reason…and plan to live longer, so he can chill out sometimes cause his worried nature worries you…you might benefit from guilt tripping him into apologizing and giving you a breather on leaving the house. But just know someone is watching over you. Renji would be a great cook or a terrible cook who improves over time. He might be great at catching the baby right when they poop or…end up shat on rushing to a sink. I really see him either being weirdly good at being a dad or definitely suffering from the learning curve.

Your baby will definitely be conceived in a wild love making, (maybe rough, passionate sex) session. And you’ll catch him blushing when he holds your baby and looks at you remembering the night you had. You’ll be the type to walk in on them sleeping crazily on the sofa, his arm instinctively holding your baby firm. He’ll be grateful to not have to jump up to go to work honestly. His biggest red flags will be being overbearing, needy, and likely requiring a lot of overt reassurance. (Which isn’t necessarily a red flag given he just will want to be a really good dad and partner.) Otherwise he’ll become a stubborn dad who will try (and fail) to « put his foot down. » Which will likely result in him sleeping on the sofa…💕

[arcanewhoosh]

Ello ello, I was wondering if I could request something for Jinx x reader fic with a reader that visit her hideout for the first time but is kinda anxious walking around the place because its literally the propeller of a hot air balloon or something with no handrails or anything to keep a person from falling XD

Starts

2,099 words (Why can't I keep it under 1k)

Proofread? Y/N

Relevant tags: Jinx x Reader, puppy love, mid-teens, reader is a nervous wreck and scared of heights

Note: I played around with this a bit and I guess you can read this as an AU of Till Forever Falls Apart

Growing up, you didn't see much of Vander's kids. But you did hear a lot about them. Depending on who was talking, you would get some different variation on what his kids were like. If it was one of the other kids; awesome, brave, having all the fun, got to go anywhere they wanted, pulled cool jobs to stick it to the Pilties. If it was one of the adults talking; irresponsible, reckless, hard-headed, loud, troublemakers. Years later, you realize that your parents might be onto something.

Growing up, you didn't see much of Vander's kids. But you did hear a lot about them. Depending on who was talking, you would get some different variation on what his kids were like. If it was one of the other kids; awesome, brave, having all the fun, got to go anywhere they wanted, pulled cool jobs to stick it to the Pilties. If it was one of the adults talking; irresponsible, reckless, hard-headed, loud, troublemakers.

Being a kid yourself, you wanted to believe the other kids, but your parents had enough influence on you to make you believe them more. Those kinds of children are bad influences, love-- they'd always say. So, like a good child, you kept your distance from the troublesome kids. Oftentimes, you'd stay at home and read books rather than play outside, because nine times out of ten, Vander's kids were all out there.

But in the rare times you were forced outside by your friends--or by your parents who had become worried about your lack of social interaction--you'd always hear an iteration of one of their adventures.

One day, after running around with your friends near the port, you came home to your parents having a hushed discussion in your living room. Seeing as you weren't the most graceful person in the world, your heavy footsteps immediately alerted them of your presence, and their discussion was subsequently ceased.

You remember looking at them curiously, them nodding to each other before your mother beckoned for you to sit beside them on your small couch, and they had told you about an explosion in Piltover.

Three people dead, one of them was Vander's eldest.

---

In the days that followed, your parents had brought you around to Vander's establishment, The Last Drop. It would seem that half the Undercity had become frequent visitors in order to offer condolences for his family's loss, including your family. It was there you found out that your Vander used to work with your father down at the mines back in the day. After that, your father and Vander seemed to have  reconnected properly, and your family wound up visiting the bar on a regular basis. Your parents said it was just old friends reconnecting, but you could deduce that they were also trying to comfort a grieving father who still had three kids he needed to look after.

It was in these visits that you learned more about his children. Not just the mere stories your friends would retell about their misadventures; real details. About a young girl that had her whole life ahead of her, taken because of the unfortunate reality that children of the Undercity had to work to survive at such an early age.

It was also during these visits that you would meet one of her siblings; the youngest of the bunch.

She was a wreck, even two months after the funeral. Mylo and Claggor--who you had befriended one night while your parent's were helping Vander around The Last Drop--said that she had refused to speak with anyone, and had been actively avoiding the increased throngs of people that visited. Especially since Silco had decided to retire the Shimmer industry to help build a better future for Zaun with Vander.

You were wandering around the back of the bar, which Vander had graciously allowed you to, when you heard a clattering come from an open door, and out of sheer curiosity, peeked in.

There, hunched over a desk, tinkering with something you couldn't immediately see, was a mop of blue hair. She hadn't noticed you open the door wider as you took a step into the room; didn’t even notice your presence as you stood there for a good minute, debating on whether or not you should just leave. Eventually, you decided against what your usual choice of action would've been, and announced your presence.

"Hello."

Clattering as she jumps in surprise, the sound of the chair scraping the floor as she stood up to face the intruder. Pale blue eyes, meeting yours.

A moment in time that's you'd single out, years later, as the beginning of something.

-----

Something absolutely stupid.

"Wait 'till you see it, you're gonna flip!"

"I feel like my stomach is gonna flip."

"Don't be such a baby." Your companion says as she goes ahead of you--or, below you?

Maybe you were being a baby, but you felt that, given the current situation, you had every right to be. Who in their right mind would climb down into the vents of Zaun?

You hazard a look down as you descend the ladder. Nothing but inky darkness below. You clamp your eyes shut and whip your head back to face the ladder, your grip in the bars tightening. Nope, nope, nope.

You could be writing your paper on enhanced wind turbines right about now, but no, Powder had a big surprise that she just needed to show you and it couldn't wait until you were done writing your dumb paper. How she had managed to convince you to leave the safety of the local library to venture down into the sealed off section of the underground--hell, how she convinced you to get on a ladder, you'll never know.

Well, you do know. But that's an internal monologue you weren't quite ready for, yet.

"Are you sure this is even safe?" You say, frozen in place.

"Is that really something you want to ask me?" You groan.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?"

She scoffs. "Oh, absolutely not. Vander might actually kill us."

"Powder!"

"We'll be fine! We're almost there, anyway." Her voice starts to sound farther away; you force your shaking legs to climb down one step at a time. You try to even out your breathing as you go, because the last thing either of you need is you hyperventilating then passing out mid-descent.

After what feels like an eternity, you hear a thud below you, and you force yourself to look back down. You squint, Powder finally made it down to wherever you were supposed to go, and was dusting herself off.  From what you could make out, it looked like some sort of platform. A ledge with a maintenance room, maybe?

Powder looks up at you, grinning. "Hurry up slowpoke!" You scowl at her.

"I think I'll take my time, thank you very much." You nonetheless pick up the pace, by a marginal amount, and eventually make the last step down onto the platform gracefully. Well, if you count you trying to feel around with your foot before dropping onto your butt graceful.

Your companion finds all of this hilarious, of course, but still helps you up.

"Perfect landing, a ten out of ten from the judges." She says as she holds you up by your arms. Your faces are close enough that you can make out the freckles spattered across her nose. Her eyes holding a mischievous glint, crinkling at the edges. Her smiling though biting her bottom lip; threatening to split into a grin, trying to stop herself from laughing any more at your expense.

Here she is, covered in dust and soot, but somehow looking all the more radiant in the dark, dank, wherever this was.

It takes a bit of effort for you to not think about the close you two are. Not the time.

"Har har." You pry your arms free from her and look around, still slightly off-put by the darkness. "So, where are we?" A small dust cloud forms when you pat down your coat, and your nose scrunches in response, a sneeze threatening to escape.

"Oh, right." She clears her throat and turns around, heading farther ahead. Instead of following, you squint, trying to get your vision to adjust to the dark better. You take a step forward, trying to make out the far wall.

"Ta-da!"

You hear a lever being pulled, and a number of lights flicker to life around you. You blink, eyes having to adjust to the light.

After a few seconds, you stumble back, and immediately try to ground yourself on all fours. Once your eyes are fully adjusted, you're able to confidently say that you are not, in fact, on a platform, or any kind of stable surface whatsoever. And you were about three steps away from falling to your death.

"Are we… Are we on a propeller?" You say incredulously.

Powder, who immediately started running towards you when you stumbled back, shrugs sheepishly. "Uhm, yes?"

Your breathing starts to go ragged again, and you have to take a minute for it to steady. Jinx tries to help by rubbing circles on your back. It does help, because the sensation of her hand on your back is so damn distracting, but you won't ever tell her that.

"Remind me--" You start, finally managing to even out your breathing and sitting up straight. "--why this was your big surprise again?"

She smiles at you, albeit a little more lackluster, and scratches the back of her head. Damn it she's still pretty even when she's unsure of herself. "I just thought this would be a cool place to hang out."

"What if the vent starts up?"

"It won't! I already checked everything's disconnected from the motor!" She points to the middle of the vent, where the propellers all meet towards the motor. You raise an eyebrow at her.

"When did you have time to check?"

She shrugs. "I checked before I brought you here, didn't want to bring you if it wasn't safe."

"Powder, I think we went past that the second you decided this was a good spot to hang." There's a hint of sarcasm at your tone, but you don't have the heart to fully commit to it, this is Powder, after all. You couldn't stay mad at her even if you tried.

She laughs and holds on to you again when you stand up. "Easy there, jelly legs."

You half-heartedly push her off, earning you a pout. After making sure your legs wouldn't suddenly give out, you hazard a few steps around the place. "I mean, it's got character, I guess?"

You hear her get up after you, hurriedly walking towards you. "Right? Look, lights, paint, tarps, this place'll look great in no time!" She starts animatedly talking about interior design choices--as if you could consider interior designing on a vent--and even pulls out a drawing she had already made on how she wanted the place to look. You find yourself relax at her musings, the tension in your shoulders evaporating.

"I hope you're planning on installing railings on this thing." She pats your arm in response, still talking about what she plans to do with the space.

Some of her hair has fallen out of the bun she usually keeps it in, and was getting in her face. She occasionally tries to blow it away from  her face, only for it to fall back into place.

A bad idea. You think to yourself as you contemplate tucking the stray strands being her ear. That would make things really awkward. You think as your hand is already moving up. Yeah, no, I definitely shouldn't do that as you do, indeed, tuck the stray strands of hair behind her ear.

She had already stopped talking the second she saw your hand moving towards her face, eyes flitting from your lingering hand just below her cheek, to your own face. The look she gives your is one of curiosity; eyebrow raised, a mischievous glint in those pale blue eyes. There's a question she wants to ask, but she doesn't say anything. You hope that your own face doesn't betray any emotion, but deep down you're panicking. Oh fuck, what did I just do? What now? This is so dumb, I'm dumb.

Sensing that you're probably currently--temporarily--unable to form a coherent sentence, she grabs your hand that's still on her cheek, and rests her face against it.

Whatever line of incoherent thoughts were just running through your mind are silenced. The one, small gesture calming the storm brewing in your mind.

It won't register just yet, but years from now, when you're both entering adulthood, when she's lazily sprawled on top of you instead of the ample space of the bean bag you hauled into her hideout. You'll look back on this moment, and realize that was the start of something special for you and Powder. And you'll thank your lucky stars you decided to skip your paper and climb down a dark vent in Zaun.