#I hated having to actually plan a kit for her

[iamthevampqueen]

Felt like trying to make an arcanists in a nutshell for my oc

[aria0fgold]

So that's... the power of Luocha e1... I get it now. I am now a lil less salty from losing my 75/25.

[arolesbianism]

Thinks oh so hard abt the spiraling upwards clan founders, especially the birchclan founders. Silly lil kitties who's pasts are drenched in blood with the primary regret of not drawing it sooner

[luvuomi]

i have the urge to rewrite amélie’s story …

[sincerelyneo]

fifteen minutes | n.jm

“i can do a lot in fifteen minutes, only gonna take two to make you finish”

💿now playing: 15 minutes by sabrina carpenter

❯ summary: Jaemin is supposed to be on stage soon—not in his dressing room with his girlfriend. He’s on a time crunch. Good thing you can do a lot in fifteen minutes.

❯ pairings: idol!jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, just pure smut

❯ words: 2.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, hand jobs, mirror kink, premature ejaculation, switch!jaemin, oral sex (male receiving), neediness, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just quickie smut

When Jaemin first asked you to join him on tour this year, it sounded like such a great idea. He pitched it in a way he knew you couldn’t turn down: like a fun bucketlist, a silly scavenger hunt where the two of you would fuck in every city on the tour. You weren’t thinking straight at the time—just liked the sound of not being away from your boyfriend for months at a time. And sex. Lots of it.

But you only made it through two stops on the U.S. leg before things started going south. First was LA, then Oakland—both in California, which Jaemin insisted didn’t need separate hookups because they were the same state. But then one skipped stop turned into two, then five, then the entire Latin America leg went without so much as a quickie. At this point, you swear the two of you were having more phone sex when he was away than actual sex now that you’re here.

But it’s not his fault. It’s not yours, either. Tour is just so…mentally exhausting. There’s so much to do, so little time. Honestly, it hurts you, seeing how disconnected he becomes when he’s constantly on the go. It’s like his body shifts into auto-pilot, just moving through the motions: rehearsal, soundcheck, makeup, performance, sleep, repeat. He never misses cuddles before bed, though, he’s soft like that. 

And now, as you sit in his dressing room, watching his makeup artist roll her kit out, you can feel all that tension, all the frustration—yours and his—simmering in the air. You need him. You want him. You want him to relax, to take himself off auto-pilot and let his mind be here, be present, with you, in Europe, in London, at the last stop of the tour.

You get up from the couch and settle behind him as he looks into the full-length mirror. Your arms snake around his waist, and you rest your chin on his shoulder, pressing soft, feather-light kisses down his neck.

“You look pretty,” you whisper against his creamy skin, your breath so hot, so tantalizing, it forces him suck in his own sharp inhale.

“Baby…” he groans, “I have to be on stage in fifteen minutes.”

Exactly, you think. He’s a force on stage, filled with so much energy. You know that if you don’t have him now, you might not get him until you’re back home.

“Good thing I can do a lot in fifteen minutes.”

Your hand runs down the front of his stage outfit, careful not to crease anything and send his stylist into a frenzy—well, more of a frenzy than she's already going to be in for what you have planned. Jaemin watches the motion through the mirror, his nostrils flaring as his dark brown eyes lock onto your hands gliding down his body. He’s needed this, needed you, the whole tour. And now, he’s going to stand there and let you take whatever you want from him.

Your fingers fumble with his belt buckle, snapping it open just enough to toy with his zipper and palm the growing bulge in his briefs.

“Babyyy…” he groans again, voice strained, almost like it’s a struggle. And maybe it is, Jaemin hates (loves) your teasing. “We can’t—We shouldn’t.”

“You don’t want to?” you ask, glancing at him through the mirror. You flutter your lashes at him so innocently, as if you’re not currently rubbing his hard, needy cock through the thin black material. 

“Fuck…” His head falls back for a moment, but he’s quick to lift it again, his eyes needing to find you again in the mirror. He can’t look away, especially not now when you're teasing him so deliberately. “Baby, you know I want to, but fuck—fifteen minutes isn’t enough time for me to fuck you the way I want.”

You smile knowingly. You get it. When Jaemin fucks, he fucks intentionally. He likes to take his time, kissing every part of you—your wrists, your forearms, your stomach, your hips, your thighs, your ankles. All of it, like pieces of art only he gets to appreciate. He likes that you’re his, wants to remember how lucky he is to be the only one savouring every inch of you. He’s patient, thoughtful. Fifteen minutes wouldn’t give him the time to indulge like he usually does.

That’s probably why he hasn’t tried fucking you much during the tour; but right now, you don’t want careful. You want quick. You want messy. You want to make him feel good, even if it’s just for a short time.

“I never said you had to do anything,” you murmur, peppering another kiss to his neck, your voice low. “I said I can do a lot in fifteen minutes. So, please, let me make you feel good, Jaem.”

He bites his lip, conflicted. Jaemin knows he shouldn’t, really knows he shouldn’t, but the desire coursing through him is too much to ignore. He wants this, so badly. That’s why he’s letting you help him slide his briefs down, just enough. You don’t take them all the way off—time’s not on your side—but just enough to let his hard, eager cock spring free. His tip is  flushed and angry, glistening with pre-cum, thick and veiny and standing to attention.

“Shit, Jaem, this must fucking ache, baby.” 

You wrap your fingers around his cock, and he shudders the second you touch him—so sensitive. Jaemin’s eyes stay locked on yours in the mirror, pupils blown wide as he watches you slowly start to stroke him. But there’s no time for slow, no time for teasing. You have fifteen minutes to make him cum, and you will.

“God, Y/N… shit—please,” Jaemin breathes, his voice wrecked. “You’re fucking killing me.”

You just smile, sly and dirty, as you keep working him over. He’s like putty in your hand, his hips rolling forward, chasing the friction, so desperate, so fragile, so pent up. Your fingers twist and stroke, applying just the right pressure to make his whole body shudder—abs tightening, breath hitching. It’s mesmerizing. And it’s even hotter knowing he’s watching it all unfold in the mirror, eyes hazy, lips parted, completely undone by you.

You lean in, your lips just inches from his ear, and whisper, “You’re so hard for me, Jaem. It’s so pretty.”

His eyes flutter shut. He loves being pretty for you, loves being perfect when he can, loves when you tell him. His head falls back as he surrenders to the sensation, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. And you can feel it—the way his body tenses, a different kind of tension building deep inside him.

You pick up the pace, stroking him faster, more deliberate. Long, languid strokes, your grip firm but careful, paying extra attention to the head—just the way he likes it, the way you know will get him there to make use of the time. 

You can’t help but smirk when his hips start moving more frantically, short breaths turning into whimpers, pleads—desperate, breathy begging.

“Think your stylist will be pissed if you cum on these pants?” you tease, easing the pace. “They look expensive… maybe I should stop—”

“Don’t…” pant, “You…” pant, “Dare.”

You wouldn’t—of course not. You don’t want to stop, but you’re not a menace either. You don’t want him getting into any trouble because of you. So, you do the only thing that makes sense.

You drop to your knees.

He barely has a second to process it before your mouth is on him—warm, wet, and devastating. The moment your lips wrap around his cock, sucking him deep, his vision dots, pleasure attacking him so hard it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs.

His arm shoots out, palm slamming against the mirror. “Oh, fuck… shit—baby, I’m gonna—fuck!”

You don’t slow, don’t falter—your head bobs relentlessly, determination driving you. Jaemin’s cock throbs with every glide, every flick of your tongue, and when you glance up at him—God, he’s beautiful like this. Completely wrecked.

His sweet mouth turned sinful, spilling filthy curses between gasping breaths. His glossy eyes, dilated and cloudy, drink in the sight of you. Pink lips part, and tremble, because he’s so utterly lost in the satisfaction you’re giving him. Until finally, his knees buckle, his hand slips from the mirror, and with a broken moan, he grips your head, holding you in place as his hips stutter—shattering—while he spills down your throat.

You don’t waste a drop—you take it all. The first spurt hits the depths of your throat, warm and salty, and you swallow without hesitation. Jaemin’s body jerks, shuddering through the aftershocks, broken moans filling the air. Slowly, you pull back, his cock slipping from your mouth, leaving a thin trail of cum on your lips. You want to lick them clean, let your tongue dart out to catch every last drop—but he doesn’t let you. 

His thumb gently brushes your lips, gathering up the rest of his release that you couldn’t swallow. He presses it to your mouth, rubbing slow and teasing, until you part your lips for him. You take his thumb into your mouth, sucking it clean, making a show of licking up every last drop, relishing the taste. At least you didn’t get anything on his clothes—that would have been a nightmare.

When he finally pulls his thumb from your mouth, he sighs, his body relaxing as he comes down from the high. He reaches out to pull you to your feet, and you smile up at him.

“Look at that,” you tease, nodding toward the small blue clock on the wall. “Two whole minutes.”

He groans, “Ugh… don’t remind me.”

You laugh, teasing, “Told you, I can do a lot in fifteen minutes. It’s a gift.”

Almost like a switch has been flipped, your words spark something wolfish in his eyes, and before you can process anything else, he’s pressing his mouth into yours, pushing you back against the cool glass of the mirror.

You gasp, breathless, “Jaem—what are you—”

“Making the most of my fucking fifteen minutes. I have thirteen left, no?”

“But I thought you were in a hurry—”

He cuts you off, his grip tightening around you as he presses you harder into the surface. “Put your fucking hands on the mirror, Y/N, and lift up your dress. I’m fucking you.”

You don’t protest, because it’s his turn now. His turn to wreck you, to possess you, to scramble your mind until you’re nothing but a puddle beneath him. You place your hands on the mirror, feeling the cool glass beneath your palms. It contrasts sharply with Jaemin’s firm, heated grip on your hips and his fingers that are digging into your skin. 

Making the most of his seconds, Jaemin slams into you from behind, his cock driving deep inside your pussy, movements fast and urgent. You squirm, suddenly reminded of the fact that you're in his dressing room, just a few feet away from the backstage crew. Quickly, you pull one hand away from the mirror to cover your mouth and stifle the sounds he’s about to work out of you.

Jaemin fucks into you fast. It makes you breathless, the glass fogging up around your hand as he pounds and pounds. The rhythm is frantic, the strokes short and sharp. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoes through the room, filthy, wet smacks that are almost obscene.

The two of you have never had sex like this before—though you’re definitely not complaining. It’s messy. It’s rushed. It’s wild. And it feels so damn good. His hands are everywhere—gripping your breasts, your ass, your thighs through rustled fabric. His time may be counting down, but he still needs to touch every inch of you as he moves inside you. 

“Look at how well you take me, baby,” he breathes, his teeth grazing your ear, nipping at the lobe. “Look at how perfect we fit together. Made for each other, yeah?”

You nod eagerly, your breath hitching as you whisper, “Yes.”

“Exactly,” he groans, “So damn perfect for each other. You’re gonna make me cum again, baby.”

The mirror shows a distorted reflection of Jaemin's face, twisted in pure ecstasy. His eyes are shut, mouth parted in a silent scream as he fucks you relentlessly like an animal. You feel the sweat dripping down his face, the tension rippling through his body as he chases his release.

“Not yet,” you beg, “Please, Jaem, not yet. We have six more minutes.”

He doesn’t know why he can’t hold himself back now—he usually enjoys long, drawn-out sex. It’s his favourite. But everything feels too overwhelming, too good. You, here, on tour, with the clock ticking, the stakes, it all turns him on for no reason at all. But nothing—and he means nothing—gets him harder than the thought of pleasing you. 

So, he holds back, gritting his teeth as he fucks you raw, resisting the urge to be greedy. Lets himself soak in the feeling of your warm, wet walls pulling him in instead.

And damn, it’s worth it—always so damn worth it to watch you melt beneath him, needing him to hold you up as your body trembles. Your orgasm hits you hard, making your pussy clench around him desperately. Jaemin is only human, and he can’t hold on any longer, not with you pulsing around him. 

He groans with a final thrust of his own. “Fuck—”

Looks like you both can do a lot in fifteen minutes.

[wosospacegirl]

should’ve called me

Summary: Y/n's on her period and having a hard time during training and Millie drives her home

Warnings: millie is the sweetest girlfriend ever

Word count: 2.3k

Masterlist

..

Y/n shifted restlessly in bed, rolling over the tangled mess of pillows and blankets. Her stomach throbbed, the dull ache twisting deep in her lower abdomen, making sleep impossible.

It was 4:30 a.m., and she still had time before she needed to get up for training. Just a little more sleep–that’s all she wanted. Enough to avoid dragging a headache around all day.

But her body had other plans. It was the second day of her period…the worst day! Cramps, back pain, mood swings, and of course, blood.

She hated training during her period. The ache in her stomach made everything uncomfortable; her back always felt stiff, and even the simplest drills felt ten times harder.

People always talked about "empowering your body" during your cycle, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to care about all that when she was the one bleeding out.

If someone asked her in an interview about playing football during her period, she'd say all the right things: "It's normal, it’s natural, we push through". But actually being the one running around the pitch while her uterus staged a full-on rebellion? No thanks.

Y/n turned onto her right side, clutching her stomach tightly. The pain dulled a little, but her back started to ache. She sighed and flopped to her left instead, tucking a pillow between her legs and closing her eyes. It didn’t fix everything, but it was better, warm and comforting, almost like when Millie hugged her.

She missed that. It had been a while since she and Millie spent proper time together. Chelsea’s schedule had been relentless lately–training, physio, media duties–and now, with the season winding down, no one had time to even breathe.

Y/n and Millie had been dating for a few months now. When Y/n first joined Chelsea, Millie had been the one to show her around.

She made sure Y/n was comfortable, helped her settle in, and made things easier. Somewhere along the way, their friendship blurred into something more–coffee orders memorized, late-night phone calls, kisses stolen in quiet corners of the training ground.

But right now, they weren’t speaking.

They’d had a fight–a stupid one–on Friday night, and Y/n had spent the whole weekend avoiding Millie. Well... Millie had tried to talk. Y/n was the one being stubborn. 

Looking back now, the whole thing felt ridiculous. Y/n had snapped when she saw Millie hugging one of the girls from the team, they’d looked too close, too comfortable. Jealousy had flared, and with her emotions already heightened, she lashed out.

Millie had just been comforting a teammate who’d had a rough training session. Y/n knew that now, but at the time... well, blaming it on PMS sounded a lot better than admitting she'd been unreasonable.

Maybe it was time to apologize. But she wasn’t going to text, she would wait until training.

..

The locker room was empty when Y/n walked in. She changed quietly, tugging on her training kit and pulling her hair into a ponytail. The sharp tug on her scalp made her wince, pain shooting down her temples.

She was pressing her hand to her stomach when the door creaked open. Erin walked in, her training jersey already damp with sweat and grass.

"Hey, Y/n!" Erin grinned. "How’s it going? How was your weekend?"

"Horrible," Y/n mumbled, sitting down to pull on her boots. "I was... kind of a bitch to Millie, and then we had a fight. And now I’ve got cramps, so... yeah."

"Oh," Erin nodded knowingly. "That’s why Millie’s been walking around like a lost puppy."

Y/n’s stomach twisted with guilt.

"Lucy asked me what happened, but I didn’t know," Erin added. "But don’t worry, baby–talk to her. I’m sure it'll be fine." She patted Y/n's back.

"Yeah," Y/n sighed. "I will."

Erin started toward the door but paused. "You coming?"

Y/n pressed her palm firmly to her stomach. "Cramps... just waiting for the medicine to kick in."

"Oh, I’m sorry," Erin said, her smile softening. "Maybe you could hit the gym instead of training today?"

"No, I need to be on the pitch," Y/n muttered. "Don’t you remember the last game? That shot I took? It went flying over the goal... It was embarrassing."

Erin grinned. "Happens to the best of us."

"Yeah," Y/n snorted, "but you’re annoyingly good at everything."

"That’s because I am the best."

Erin ducked out the door just before Y/n’s shin guard came flying her way.

Unfortunately, the smile didn’t last long. Another wave of pain knotted her stomach sharply. She glanced at her watch–30 minutes late already. Erin had probably told Sonia she was in the changing room, but Y/n knew she couldn’t put it off any longer.

She sucked it up and headed to the pitch.

Her teammates were already running drills; Y/n eyes quickly found Millie running, but she wasn’t in her natural spot upfront, instead she was behind the other girls. Her eyes were focused on the floor as she ran, clear sadness on her face.

Yep, Y/n needed to apologize. Fast.

But not right now, Y/n had responsibilities to fulfil first, and that meant talking to the manager.

She saw Sonia standing in the middle of the pitch, scribbling notes on her clipboard alongside her assistant coaches. Y/n considered slipping straight into training, but she knew she owed an explanation to Sonia first of why she was late.

"Hey, Y/n!" Sonia was greeted warmly when she approached. "Everything okay? Erin said you weren’t feeling well."

Y/n shifted on her feet. "Yeah... cramps."

Sonia’s expression softened. "I’m sorry–feel free to sit this one out if you need. I know how tough it gets for you."

The good thing about being in a club that cares about your health? The best doctors, physios, and support staff were always available. The downside? Everyone knew way too much about your body.

Even the manager.

“No, it’s alright– I’m sure I’ll feel better soon,” Y/n said, even though she wasn’t actually sure about it. She just didn’t want to feel like the odd one out. 

What was the point of coming to training if she wasn't going to train?

“Just want to give you a heads up that my performance will be poor though,” Y/n said with an awkward laugh, while fidgeting with the hem of her jersey.

“Don’t worry about it, do your best.” Sonia gave her an empathetic smile. “And take some water breaks, alright? Don’t overwork yourself.”

As Y/n jogged beside Millie, she kept sneaking glances at her. Y/n’s chest tightened. What if Millie wasn’t so quick to forgive her this time? What if she was tired of Y/n’s moods?

“Hey,” Y/n said softly, voice tight with nerves.

Millie turned her head, and to Y/n’s surprise, she smiled– small, but genuine. “Hey,” Millie said back.

Y/n exhaled, guilty in her voice. “I-I’m sorry for ignoring you the whole weekend and…well, for being kind of a bitch really.”

“What got you so angry, huh?” Millie’s teasing smile softened. “Spent the whole weekend thinking, what have I done to get on your nerves?”

Y/n felt even more guilty, even though Millie seemed to have forgiven her already. She always did. Millie was patient and understanding; two things Y/n was still learning.

“I got my period so…hormones,” Y/n said. “I’m sorry about that, I know it’s not an excuse.”

“Oh, are you feeling okay?” Millie asked while cleaning sweat off her forehead. “How are your cramps this time?”

“Bad, very bad,” Y/n said. “I was waiting to see if the pain would alleviate a bit with the medicine, but it didn’t work.”

The assistant coach blew the whistle twice, which meant everybody had to start running faster, so Millie and Y/n did so. Although Y/n’s cramps were getting worse and worse.

“You should’ve called me,” Millie said. “I would’ve come to your house, we would cuddle– you know medicine doesn't always work for you.”

Millie was right. Y/n had such bad cramps that not even the strongest medicine could get rid of them, but she still tried to take them and hoped for the best every time. 

“I know, I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Y/n mumbled, slightly out of breath.

“It’s a big deal if you’re in pain,” Millie said gently.

Y/n smiled sweetly at Millie as they ran laps quietly, the drill becoming too intense for them to have a conversation.

As the team ran, Millie’s eyes kept flicking toward Y/n. Every time Y/n pressed a hand to her stomach or slowed down for just a second, Millie noticed.

She shifted closer, gradually shortening the gap between them until her elbow brushed Y/n’s arm.

“You sure you’re okay?” Millie asked quietly, like she didn’t want the other to overhear, since Y/n didn't like when others knew she was in any type of pain, even her teammates.

“I’m fine,” Y/n muttered, trying to pick up her pace– but Millie stayed beside her, watching the girl carefully.

As if it were the bells of the angels themselves, the assistant coach blew the whistle, indicating the running drill was over, after an hour and a half of running, in between breaks, obviously, the girls were free to carry on with their day.

Now each player had their own schedule– the goalkeepers had their own training session, some girls had physiotherapy, others pilates, while Millie and Y/n, alongside some other players, had a gym session.

Y/n trudged in the direction of the gym, her head pounding and stomach still aching. She was halfway through peeling off her boot to change it into her sneaker when Millie pulled her shirt, catching Y/n’s attention. 

“I’m driving you home,” Millie announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“I’m fine,” Y/n protested.

Millie scoffed. “Yeah, sure,” Millie snorted. “Because you’re totally the type to clutch your stomach like that for fun.” 

“I’ve got gym,” Y/n mumbled.

“Not anymore.” Millie grabbed Y/n’s bag, slinging it over her shoulder like it weighed nothing. 

“C’mon,” Millie added, her voice softer now. “I’ve already talked to Sonia– we’ve got the rest of the day off.”

“I can–”

“You can barely stand up straight,” Millie interrupted, her hand finding Y/n’s elbows gently. “I saw you dragging your feet out there. And don’t even think about arguing. You’re pale and sweaty. You look like you haven’t slept well in days.

“I always look sweaty after training,” Y/n tried.

Millie arched an eyebrow. “Not like this.” Her grip on Y/n’s arm tightened slightly, trying to get the girl to stand up from the bench. “I’m serious, babe. Just let me take you home.”

Y/n wanted to argue, but honestly, she didn’t have the energy. Her stomach twisted again, and she grimaced, a frown on her face.

“See?” Millie’s face softened immediately. “I knew it– you’re miserable! With all the respect.” 

She shifted Y/n’s bag higher on her shoulder. “You’re getting on my sofa with a blanket, a hot water bottle, and we can watch whatever movie you want. Non-negotiable.”

Y/n groaned at Millie but followed her until they were in the parking lot. Millie opened the door for her, and Y/n got in as Millie began driving.

Y/n was feeling more and more pain. The sharp tugged in her lower back was getting stronger, too. They didn’t talk on their way to Millie’s house. Instead, they were in a comfortable silence.

Millie gently placed her hand on Y/n’s thigh as the girl lay her head against the windows, closing her eyes.

..

By the time they reached Millie’s house, Y/n was practically dragging herself out of the car, but Millie was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Alright, no arguments,” Millie muttered, her voice softer now. “You’re going straight to the sofa.”

“I can walk,” Y/n grumbled, even as she leaned heavily against Millie.

“Yeah, yeah,” Millie said teasingly. “You’re walking, I’m just steering.”

Once inside, Millie guided Y/n to the sofa and immediately began fussing–like Millie usually did–tossing blankets over Y/n and adjusting pillows and practically tucking her in like a kid.

“You comfy?” Millie asked, getting down on her knees in front of Y/n.

“Uhm,” Y/n mumbled, eyes half-closed.

“You’re a bad liar, baby,” Millie muttered, kissing her forehead before disappearing into the kitchen.

Y/n let her eyes fall shut, barely registering the sounds of cupboards opening and closing. Soon enough, Millie was back, pressing a heating pad to Y/n’s stomach and placing a glass of water on the table.

“Here,” Millie murmured, coaxing Y/n into sitting up just enough to hand her some more painkillers. “Take these.”

Y/n swallowed them obediently, letting her head fall back against the pillows with a groan.

“You want tea?” Millie asked. “Or soup? I can make soup–or maybe you want something sweet? Huh?”

“Millie–” Y/n’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I just wanna sleep.”

Millie chuckled softly. “Alright, alright.” She tucked the blanket higher over Y/n’s shoulders, then grabbed the remote. “But when you wake up, I’m making you eat something.”

Y/n hummed in agreement, her breathing already slowing as the heating pad eased her pain away. Millie’s presence was also comforting, making her relax.

Millie stayed close, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch. Every few minutes, she’d reach up and gently squeeze Y/n’s calf–just enough to remind her she was there.

“You’re such a good girlfriend,” Y/n mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah?” Millie grinned, giving her leg one more squeeze. “Good. Now go to sleep, grumpy.”

..

Notes: Hope u liked liked it! Please like and reblog <3

Masterlist

[c-sand]

I cannot believe youre a fellow poljon believer

Oh, my friend, I absolutely am. Like, I don't know what's going on in those books George won't release -- maybe nothing related to pol!jon will ever touch that world. But? In the world of the show?? There is not a single thing on this planet that anyone could say to convince me that Jon actually had any authentic feelings for that woman. I know that's the official narrative -- heard. But... I'm sorry, but I've never seen a man look more miserable around the supposed love of his life.

Every single acting choice Kit made, from the second the characters meet, says, "I am not down with this woman." And his interviews suggested the exact same conclusion. His interviews legitimately make no sense, if pol!Jon wasn't something he was operating with. Because, if he actually loves that woman (despite hating everything she stands for and looking like he wants to die, every single time they speak, INCLUDING when he's actively having sex with her) and is legitimately on her side and wanting to support her, than he isn't making any moves, being more political, or manipulating anyone 'in a kind way.' He's just a dumb man who gets completely blinded by a beautiful woman... Which is kind of lame, considering who Jon is and who we know him to be.

They filmed literal scenes where his people mock and spit at her feet and he LAUGHS. He doesn't care. He only cares that she sees him suppressing a laugh. And then stared her down the second she makes a thinly veiled threat against Sansa. Show!Jon is cooking up plans, whether the show wants to admit it or not.

[stereksimp]

Derek hated the mouthy, sarcastic, asshole that stuck his nose in business that had nothing to do with him. Like when he was looking for Scott because he got shot but couldn't find him, and Stiles found him first.

He did convince Scott to actually help him, which kinda kept him alive. He was still an asshole the whole time.

Stiles also stuck his nose in the Kanima business. So when he got in the way when the Kanima was attacking them, protecting the kid got him paralyzed in 8 ft of water.

He did hold him up for over 2 hours, and even when they were going under the last time, he didn't let him go. The kid would have drowned right along with him, but Stiles would have died without him, so it had to be self-preservation.

After when they were all talking the in parking lot and he said that the Kanima was a werewolf that went wrong and Stiles called that an abomination over a werewolf, he started seeing the loyalty in him.

Then Scott betrayed him. He worked with Gerard, and that kid is not smart enough to come up with that plan himself. Stiles had to have been in on it. He betrayed him as well.

He was still paralyzed, grapling with what just happened when that damned jeep crashed through the wall and smashed into the Kamina. Stiles figured out how to save Jackson, and when everything was settled, Derek started to leave but overheard Stiles talking to Chris about Erica and Boyd. He left before the conversation finished.

When he got back to the train station, Boyd and Erica were there curled up together. When they saw him, they whimpered, and Erica rushed him.

Erica: Where's Stiles? What happened to him? *tears running down her face*

Derek: *a low growl in his voice* he's fine. What happened to you guys.

Erica tries to speak, but she's crying too hard to get words out, so he looks over to Boyd for answers.

Boyd: Gerard and Allison took 5 when we were in the basement, Stiles was thrown down the stairs. They tortured him, but he didn't say anything.

Derek: *stunned* What.

Derek: Boyd, take her and stay here. I'll be back.

Derek peals out of the lot and makes his way to Stiles' house in record time. The Sheriff is gone, so he slips into Stiles' room to find him wrapping his ribs. A growl rips its way out of him as he crowds Stiles.

Derek: *running his hands all over Stiles* You... didn't know. Scott. Gerard. You. Safe.

Stiles: woah woah woah slow down, big guy. What is going on? I need you to use full sentences here.

Derek's growl tappers off into a whine.

Derek: You protected Erica and Boyd. You got hurt protecting us. You didn't know what Scott planned. You...

Stiles: *Anger laces his voice* I would never do that to you. We may not always get along but to take away your choice like it is unacceptable. Are Erica and Boyd all right. Chris said that he released them when he found out.

Derek just silently grabs the first aid kit and goes about patching Stiles up .

[putellasawfc]

gingerbread competition!

leah williamson x reader

-

christmas music sounded from the bluetooth speaker that had been set up across the room, the familiar jingle of all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey filling the apartment you shared with your girlfriend of four years with a contagious level of christmas joy. the days had finally began to get chillier, the nights getting darker earlier and that’s all it took for you to get into the christmas spirit, which is why you had a variety of seasonal based activities ready for leah and yourself to partake in during the three day weekend you both had.

originally, you had really planned for tonight to be the night that you unpacked all the christmas decorations that you had stored in the loft and begin decorating your house. but after a long day of filming for different youtube videos and tiktok’s with the other arsenal girls, neither of you could be bothered with lugging down the boxes and bin bags that were filled to the brim with tinsel, baubles, stockings and lights. so instead, you went with the second best option. decorating a gingerbread house instead!

leah had been very scrooge about it at first, whining and wittering on about how there’s no point because it never stays up, even calling the whole thing a scam at one point but you had just tutted, claiming she just didn’t know how to build them properly.

“i do know how to build them! they’re just all flimsy, stay up for about five seconds and that’s it!” she defended herself, her brows furrowed in frustration as you stifled a laugh at how much offence she had taken to your previous statement.

“alright, alright. i believe you.” you teased, continuing to empty the gingerbread house kits you had picked up the day before. “i bet i can make mine look better than yours though.”

you knew the leah williamson could never back down from a challenge, her competitive streak was too high.

she scoffed, leaning forward with her elbows on the wooden table. “yeah right. sorry baby, but you have no chance.”

“well i actually have full confidence in my gingerbread house decorating abilities, so.” you said, dragging out the ‘o’ as you spread the different icings and sprinkles amongst the table, between the two of you. “why don’t we put a bet on it?”

“what kind of bet?” she eyed you, and you thought about it for a moment.

“whoever wins gets to choose an ugly christmas sweater that the loser has to wear to the next event we go to?” you suggested, that being the first thing that came to mind.

the blonde thought about it for a second, her gaze falling to the items on the table before she pursed her lips and slowly nodded, her blue eyes finding you again as she held out a hand in your direction.

“you have a deal.”

you grinned, wrapping your hand around her own and giving her a firm handshake. “may the best woman win.”

now, here you were almost twenty minutes later trying your best to apply the white icing onto the roof of your house that had miraculously managed to stay up for longer than fourty-five seconds, after you had generously coated the sides in too much icing. you would never admit it out loud, but leah was definitely right about the whole thing being flimsy. you had almost given up at one point in frustration after the house caved in on itself a sixth time.

“maybe we should’ve decorated cupcakes instead.” you mumbled, licking off some of the icing that had smudged on your thumb.

“i hate to say i told you so .. but.” the lioness captain huffed, “i definitely told you so.”

“when have you ever not enjoyed saying that?” you shot back, taking a quick glance towards her own house that had yet to be built, the woman deciding it would be better to decorate the pieces first and then stick them together after.

“i have my moments.”

you shook your head in amusement, finally satisfied with the amount of white, red and green icing that coated the house to mimic snow and tinsel. you moved to pick up a small bag of sprinkles that had already been opened by leah earlier, looking into the bag with furrowed brows.

“could’ve saved some for me babe.” you frowned, not even a quarter of the bag was full anymore.

“oops, my bad.” her tone was anything but apologetic, an amused smirk sat on her face and you elbowed her gently.

“you sabotaged me? that’s a yellow card!”

“i didn’t sabotage you! i just had to make my house look good, you wouldn’t understand.” she sent a playful look of concern to your creation and you gasped in mock offence.

“you’re so mean! my little house looks great.” you pouted, “would’ve looked even better if someone hadn’t used all sprinkles but … it’s okay i can still win without them.”

she scoffed at that, before the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, aside from the speaker that was still blasting out more christmas tunes as the night went on. you made do with the sprinkles you had left, carefully sticking them to the icing around your house, focusing on the outside of your roof to make it look like colourful christmas lights had been put up. you moved onto picking up different sweets, dotting them around the house wherever you thought looks best, just adding the finishing touches when a groan to the left of you caught your attention.

you raised a brow and looked over, not being able to help the smile that rose when you saw how much leah was struggling with putting the pieces together. she’d managed to get two to stick together, but then the other side would fall down, and then when she’d attempted to stick that side back together, another side would fall down, tangling her in a never ending cycle that was clearly annoying her with the way her brows touched and her jaw tensed.

“looks like your little sabotage was for nothing.” you chirped, revelling in the way it only made her more frustrated.

“shut up.”

you laughed, finally finishing the house before pushing it away slowly, relieved the whole ordeal was finally over. “ahhh, now i get to sit back and watch you struggle.”

“i’m breaking up with you.” she muttered under her breath, intense gaze not moving from her house.

“you’re not allowed.” you swiftly replied, leaning in closer to get a better look at the mess she was making. “maybe if you ask nicely, i could give you a hand.”

she didn’t reply at first, still attempting to finish the task herself, but when almost three minutes went by and she wasn’t getting any closer to completing it, she stomped her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum and turned to you in annoyance.

“fine. help me.”

“uh, what was that?” you questioned, cupping your ear with your hand.

she rolled her eyes, throwing her head back in exasperation at your immaturity.

“please will you help me build my house?” she asked again, “before i throw it at a wall.”

you grinned, throwing an arm over your girlfriends shoulder and pulling her into your side, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before nodding. “i’d love to.”

it took a little bit of work, the pair of you bickering back and forth when leah had accused you of putting too much pressure on it and you accusing her of letting go too soon, but eventually, the both of you pulled your hands away cautiously, giving it a few seconds just to make sure before you gave eachother a double high five, pleased that it had finally stayed put.

pushing it back slowly as you had done to yours previously, you both sat back and admired your efforts on both houses.

“think it’s gonna be a pretty close one love.” leah said, pulling up her phone ready to snap a picture for her instagram story, where you had planned to put up a poll to see who’d win.

“hmm, maybe.” you hummed in agreement, “but i think my gumdrops on the roof might just help me win.”

she rolled her eyes once again, but this time with less irritation now that the hard part was done with. “yeah, yeah. if you say so.”

the defender took a quick snap, moving her phone to show you her screen when not even second later did leah’s house fall apart, one of the pieces even landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“you’re having a laugh.”

[starringthesturniolos]

bite me (part 2)- matt sturniolo

part one, part 2

summary- matt has always hated your guts, but everything changes when he wakes up and finds out your his mate.

contains- vampire!matt x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (not in this part), themes of death, dark themes, high school au! (18 yrs old)

——————————————————————————

your pov:

i woke up with a massive headache, my chest heaving. the first thing i think of is matt.

what the fuck, why is he on my mind on a saturday morning.

i shudder at my own actions and throw my covers over my head as a phantom chill runs down my spine.“cant stay in bed forever” i sigh to myself, while throwing the covers off my body almost immediately after putting them back on. I march to my closet and change into my favorite running shorts. as soon as i step foot out of my house, i start to jog, the melodic tempo lulling me out of my morning funk. my peace is disrupted tho because out the corner of my eye, i see my neighbor walk out his house into his driveway. his eyes bore into mine before they rake up and down my body. my heart beat picks up slightly, and it’s not from the exercise.

my neighbor, kit, has been weirdly obsessed with me ever since he and his girlfriend broke up. about a week ago, i caught him snooping around our house at night, trying to get a peek into my room. after that i’ve been trying to avoid crossing paths, and i wasn’t planning on crossing them today. its fine, hes probably taking out the trash, i think, desperately trying to reassure myself. i speed up from a light jog to a full on sprint because i know that once hes out my sight, i will feel more comfortable. i sigh in relief when i round the corner to the next street in my subdivision, happy that i got away from him.

slap slap slap

his feet pound against the ground as he sprints to catch up with me. i whirl around once i hear the footsteps, and lock eyes with him. the accidental eye contact was enough to spur him to go even faster than his long legs were taking him before. my heart to drops and i turn back around, running on pure adrenaline and fear.

“Y/n, stop running and come talk to me!” kit yells angrily but i’m running far too hard to form a proper sentence. even if i wanted to respond to him i wouldn’t have the breath to do so.

“STOP PLAYING HARD TO GET. YOU KNOW YOU WANT ME Y/N. COME HERE AND ADMIT IT” he screams even louder. my head starts to pound and my mind reels trying to come up with a plan. i can’t run forever. i gather the little breath i have in me to muster up a scream in hopes someone will come help me, only for the air to be knocked out of me. i ran straight into something, no,

someone.

“get. the fuck. away from her.” the mystery man growls.

kit takes one look at him and slowly backs away in fear. “who the hell are you?” out of curiosity, i look up to see who i’ve run into and freeze.

matt?

no it can’t be. it looks just like him but his eyes are dark red, and dark black veins swirl under his pale skin like they have a mind of their own. “who are you?” i cringe as i repeat the same question kit did moments before, both our tones lacking a single ounce of courage. fear was all consuming as we stared at the monster in front us.

“you know who i am, y/n. get behind me. now. im gonna deal with him” he says gruffly while looking behind me at kit. kit whimpers at the sight of matts deadly stare.

i ignore what matt says, opting to look him up and down instead in a manner that screams “what the fuck is wrong with you”. but then, i try to think rationally for a moment, this is still matt after all. he may not like me but hes not gonna hurt me. right?

“what happened to you, matt?”i question breathlessly.

“you.” matt deadpans in a voice much deeper than his normal one, taking a step closer to me. he reaches his hand out to grab me. to take me.

“y/n get away from him!!” kit interjects and pulls me too him in hopes of trying to help me get away from matt. and for once, i’m actually glad kits here.

wrong move.

matt is in front of me in a flash. he snarles as he pushes kit with bone crushing force. his body goes flying, hitting a pole a couple of yards away with a loud thud, knocked out on impact. i shriek, terror filling my veins. as if sensing my strong distress, matt turns to me slowly. his arms out in front of him, in what is supposed to be a peaceful gesture.

hard to be comforting when your veins are as dark as your tattoos.

“y/n, we need to talk” the stranger, deeper version of matts voice says.

why can’t i move. im frozen in time as he takes slow steps towards me.

“you need to come with me, y/n.” he breathes out, his dark red eyes wide and crazed. he takes another step closer. my legs feel like jelly but i finally manage to take one step back. whatever matt is, it can’t be human. humans can’t throw each other several yards. their veins aren’t as black as midnight, and their eyes sure as hell don’t change to a deep red on command. so what does he, no, it, want from me.

“w- why do i need to come with you? ”

“because you’re mine” he growls, finally deciding to close the gap between us, faster than my eyes can process. he bends down and run his nose along the hot spot on my neck. he inhales deeply and moans in relief his black veins disappearing. i scream and try to push him off but its useless. he grabs my arm in a vice grip and pure horror spreads through my body for what feels like the 100th time today. i try to let out another scream but no sound comes out. my vision clouds and my head is spinning. then everything is black.

@bbernard-03

@sturnthepot

@hoeformatt

@sturtriple16

@faygo-frog

@sturniol0s

@fratbrochrisgf

@mattslolita

[illubean]

Valorant Protocol as Highschool Stereotypes

Characters: Chamber, Gekko, Iso, Jett, Killjoy, Neon, Phoenix, Raze, Sage, Skye, Viper, Yoru Type: Headcanons

HAHA help me valorant brainrot >.< also this is based off of my hs experience soooo yeah

Warnings: none

Chamber

your typical pretty boy

all the girls love him all the boys hate him

well...most of the girls love him

they follow him around to classes or offer him gifts or ask to sit with him at lunch etc.

and he eats up the attention every time

he's lab partners with Viper in Environmental Sciences and he likes trying to flirt with her

she actually hates him btw

Gekko

canonically he skateboards

but honestly? I can see him being on the dance team

he's so high energy, he needs some sort of outlet

he never misses an opportunity to show off his dance moves

homecoming? prom? he is the center of the dance circle

like Raze, he doesn't know how popular he is

he's just happy to have so many good friends that it doesn't even actually occur to him that he's considered "popular"

Iso

he's an ap art kid

like he walks around with a big ass sketchbook every day

always talking about his portfolio

Iso baby ily but please shut the fuck up about oil paints <3

he probably volunteered part of his summer break to come in and paint a mural for the school

I think he'd also take a piano class as like a schedule filler but he actually gets crazy good at it

Jett

pe tryhard

if you end up on the opposite team as her while playing dodge ball good luck 😓

she's always picked as team captain because literally no one else is excited as she is

she's sorta like Hairo from Saiki K 💀

she gets a lil mad when her teammates don't try

Killjoy

she's in robotics club

she's not very popular but that doesn't bother her at all

she heads straight to and from every class and spends her lunch period in the workshop unless Raze drags her off somewhere

not a lot of people actually know who she is, and if they do they just know her as 'Raze's Friend'

i think she'd remind the teacher about the homework and hit you with the "erm actually 🤓" tbh

Neon

she's on track and field/cross country

after every meet you can find her laying on the floor somewhere ready to puke bc she tries so hard to win 😭

she always ends up top 5 tho

she complains about practice but joins the team every year anyways

she carries her bag around all the time and if you open it there's like 10 water bottles in there

#hydratedqueen

Phoenix

theater kid DUHH

he's probably drama club president or sumn

bro will NOT let go of a specific song from a musical he was in his freshman year and it wasn't even his song 💀

he's been in every show every year and somehow he manages to land every role he wants

he's insanely good at the game 'bang' (mostly because he's louder than everyone else...)

he probably plans/hosts the cast parties too

Raze

she doesn't care much about her grades

she does the bare minimum and gets straight Cs

she's just here to have fun

everyone likes her because of her approachable personality

she doesn't think she's popular but she is

Sage

she's in the medical assistant class

she takes it very seriously, as she plans on going to medical school

even before taking the class she carries a first aid kit and other essentials everywhere she goes

you need a bandaid? ibuprofen? a pad or tampon? she has it all

she's also ASB president

school events literally would not be able to run without her

lets just say her college applications/resume will look REALLY good...

Skye

she also took medical assistant but was less crazy about it than Sage

she just follows her friend's lead

she thinks the skills are useful but she doesn't see herself making it her career

but also I think she would play volleyball

she's a well rounded player but specializes most in defense

still, don't underestimate her bc this girl can SPIKE

Viper

she took every ap science class offered without taking the general ones first

she complains about getting any grade below an A...

"What are you talking about? That test was easy"

sorry not everyone is as smart as you Sabine 😑

she spends all her free time at chem tutoring (even though she doesn't need it)

Yoru

he thinks he looks cool and mysterious when he walks down the halls but he doesn't

everyone just thinks his mad all the time and stay out of his way 😭

randos try to pick fights with him bc he "looked at them wrong" (Yoru wins every time)

he's not exactly a 'quiet kid' but he does lay low when it comes to the social part of school

despite his 'bad boy' look, he has pretty good grades

he's also probably one of those guys that a handful of girls have a crush on but he has no idea

[spiralingemptyness]

Clone wars hc

Been lurking on tumblr for a bit (while) and decided to throw my own clone wars hc cause the hyperfixation be hyper fixated (sorry for any spelling errors).

Kit Fisto and Obi-Wan are bffs - They both lose their robes and seem to flirt with anything that walks. meaning they have get togethers and give each other flirting advice.

Jocasta Nu and Admrial Yularen are BAMF, and are severly underrated. you don't get away with hurting someone they care about unpunished.

Rex's first thought of ashoka was "that's a child" followed by "that's a child on a battle field" and then "that's a child on a battle field with no clothes, what the kark".

One of the shinies from Monnk's battalion definitely asked Fisto (while high on pain meds) if he lactates and monnk and fisto lost their shit and couldn't stop laughing for 5 min straight.

Kix (and other medics by default) have tranq/hypo guns for any vode or jedi that try to leave med bay when on bed rest.

Fox and Amidala gossip and constantly talks shit about Palpatine

Kit Fisto Smile Supremacy, this man win's best smile, it never fails to cheer someone up.

Rex definitely twirls his guns before putting them in his holsters when he's done using them

Bly is obviously in love with Aayla, and he tries to hide it (and fails miserably) but he's so respectful about loving her and swooning, that Quinlan couldn't even give him a shovel talk.

the clones were absolutely baffled when they met the jedi's

Wolffe and Fox are twins, they might be at each others throats 90% of the time, but if you talk shit about the one of them, the other won't hesitate to beat your ass.

Monnk says the most off handed shit in a dead pan tone (ex. Monnk: well I'm not gonna live, laugh, love this. Fisto, laughing his ass off: I-I'm Sorry? Monnk: I'm just saying this is gonna be a bitch)

Plo Koon is Plo Buir, He's at least adopted the Wolf Pack and Ashoka

the 501st and Ashoka are siblings

Grey adopted Caleb Dume

The Iron Battalion/13th battalion took one look at Cal and immediately adopted him

Ponds isn't dead (cause fuck canon), he found Boba before his schemes could go off and made him a deal, He helps Boba plan the assassination attempts on Windu (he trust his general won't die, but he gave him more headaches) so there's no casualties, but slowly the attempts stop and now Boba just lives in the 91st venator's vents.

The first time Cody picked up Obi-Wan's lightsaber he thought it was so cool, and now he just wants to glue the damn thing into his hand

Hound spoils Grizzer, he absolutely adores the massif

Jesse make sure Kix is actually taking care of himself, and make sure he's not over working (and when necessary, he uses a hypo to make sure Kix sleeps, cause Kix will hold that over his head and pay him back for it)

Fox and Thorn are opposites but they are really close

The corrie guard has a list of all the good and bad senators

The most forms that Monnk and Cody (and occasionally Ponds) fill out are forms for more robes

Cody's name is Kote (but goes by Cody cause so many nat borns mispronounce it) and Obi-Wan randomly asked if that was his name, and Cody was just utterly shocked

After Umbara, Fox say a very traumatized trooper (it's Dogma) who is facing shitty consequences for doing the right thing and adopts him into the guard

After Kix woke up from his stasis and found artoo's (again, fuck canon) he would stay up on nights he couldn't sleep and watch videos of him and his vode from artoo's memory bank

Clones using their Jedi's lightsaber - Cody using Kenobi's lightsaber after he loses it for the millionth time, Rex using it to back ventress away from ashoka, Fox finding quinlan's in a dumpster (with quinlan in said dumpster)

Hound let's grizzer purposely tackle people when he can easily apprehend them because it's funny or because whoever he's chasing pissed him off and he's petty

Yoda is the ultimate menace (like srs palpitine hates his ass, but yoda -and everyone else- hates him even more)

Yoda still keeps in touch with Rys, Jek, and Thire (mainly Thire) after the treaty or smth

The Corrie found Quinlan Vos in a dumpster and now he won't stop bugging them (expecially Fox)

Fox is a walking encyclopedia of every republic laws, you do one minor thing wrong and he can quote every law you broke, word to word

A trooper (let's call him Sharks) from Fisto and Monnk's battalion can just get a group of sharks to gather around, at every planet, every time, without fail

Plo's disappointed dad sigh can make a separatist army fold into defeat

Kenobi absolutely loathes caf, he hates it with a passion

Each high ranking clone officer has to deal with something of their jedi - Cody has to deal with Kenobi flirting with seperatist and losing his lightsaber, Rex has to deal with his general constantly crashing ships, his batshit crazy plans and his general continuously using the force to throw him, Monnk has to deal with his general randomly "shedding" clothes, and all the clones have to deal with their generals and commanders not wearing armor (Except for Jaro Tapal, HE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO WEARS ARMOR)

Corrie Guard can sleep standing up, very useful when guarding in the pods during senate meetings

The nice Senators (mainly Chuichi, Amidala, and Organa) and Vos very often get things for the Coruscant Guards, and whenever the guard see's the gifts they are baffled and bamboozled

Rex called dibs on Domino squad after the moon mission

Echo and Fives without hesitation took Tup and Dogma under their wing

Fives, Hardcase and Jesse started a prank war in the 501st that accidently evolved into a GAR wide prank war (with Coruscant being neutral ground, cause the guard doesn't need to deal with that shit, doesn't mean they don't help out)

Fox holds ALL the blackmail, and has multiple informants in every battalion, plus he has the power to withhold caf shipments

Fox also regularly reads his batchmates mission reports to mae sure their ok

The Corrie guard accidently adopted a stray tooka and a loth cat, now they're the guards emotional support animals

Rex keeps complaining about his brothers flirting with their jedi's that he didn't even realized that he third wheeled between Anakin and Padme that he joined their relationship

every mothers or fathers day without fail, shaak ti and plo koon always gets presents and gifts from their children (troopers and cadets.... and ashoka)

Coric is Kix's Ori'vod, he didn't admit it at first but Kix grew on him and well medics stay togeth

Coric purposely avoided being CMO of the 501st because they are hellions, Kix wanted to strangle him after he realized what being CMO of the 501st meant

Rex was on the 212th with Cody when Anakin was still a padawan

Rex hates evals, natural blonde plus Kamino is a recipe for hell. Also he was shocked at Skywalker being nonchalant about his hair, Anakin just though it made him cooler

That's all I have for now, if you see any you've seen before my bad, I honestly just typed the first that came to mind and kinda spiraled from there. I'm just now starting to interact with tumblr, so I might upload more and maybe even some art if I can stay focused long enough.

[the-maid-of-witchwood]

Drop your headcanons for Pete and his ships, I dare you

*cracks knuckles*

Solo headcanons:

Lives at home but does visit and stay with Ted from time to time

Also is allowed to use Ted’s place for hangouts (usually plans them for when he knows Ted won’t be home though)

Their extended family all live in Poland and they visit every summer, every second Christmas

He knows Polish

Wants to be more in touch with his heritage

Their paternal grandparents live beside a goat farm and Ted always climbs the fence to terrorise them. One of Pete’s earliest memories is one of said goats beating the shit out of Ted for it

In turn, he’s not particularly fond of goats. Not scared per se, but would rather avoid them

His mom put him in a ton of after school activities in the hopes he would make friends: tap, musical theatre, chess, cooking, computing, ballroom and Latin dancing, ice skating, hiking, birdwatching, golf and first aid training

Subsequently, has some really weird skills and knowledge

Hot chocolate is one of the only drinks he’ll have

He isn’t as fussy with his food, but drinks? Yeah

Definitely had one of those at home magic kits as a child

Has been in the school shows but just ensemble or running the sound board

Tries to get Ruth to join him in the ensemble but she always chickens out before sign ups last minute

Has beef with Kevin (Joey’s drama student) for no particular reason, he just thinks Kevin’s an idiot

Did think about becoming a tutor but after one too many horror stories from PJ, he talked himself out of it

He and Alice are childhood friends because of Bill and Ted

They use to be livid if they went into CCRP for something and the other wasn’t there to play/annoy Paul with

Decided he didn’t like Grace after she got 10/10 on a spelling test in first grade and he didn’t. He likes her now but clearly is still a little bitter about it

A huge movie geek

Both he and Richie are aggressively fighting for top marks in their film studies class

Is really good at video games

Ted got him into them and a lot of their brotherly bonding (and rivalry) comes from that

His mom use to cut his hair, it wasn’t good. Ted use to bully him for it

He plays the clarinet and is in the school orchestra because he wasn’t cool enough to be in the marching band

Favourite subject is chemistry

And wants to pursue something in that field

Plans to go to university somewhere outside of the US, probably through a scholarship

Has always been really tall

First crush was Zoey, following her serving him at Beanie’s

Ironically, everyone who works at Beanie’s (save Nora) completely hates him and shit talks him during their breaks

He can sew and makes a lot of his own clothes - matching suspenders, bow ties, jumpers and socks

Is in the school’s debate and chess clubs

Runs a DND night every month for the friend group, he usually ends up as the DM because nobody else can do it. Richie did it once and the game fell to shambles

Told everyone he was watching Bridgerton for the historical aspects as a history buff when he was actually watching for the spicy scenes - he already knew the show was historically inaccurate

Not wanting to be considered a sleaze like Ted, he ended up making himself sound very prudish in middle school and hasn’t been able to live it down

Was in the running for senior class president until Max made him step down because he didn’t want a nerd in power

Ultimately wins valedictorian

Lautski:

Pete fell first, Steph fell harder

Steph was lowkey a little disappointed when he stopped wearing the suspenders because she wanted to flick them again, definitely not as an excuse to get closer

Absolutely puts on Pete’s glasses and clothes (as best she can, probably doesn’t button up) to mock him, seductively

She’s saved as “Persephone” on his phone - similar to Stephanie, the use of “phone” and Steph is a goddess to him

She later uses the name for a DND character

He spends hours working on flirty lines for her but completely stutters through them or they’re really dorky and a little cringey, Steph still appreciates the effort

Makes online flashcards for Steph

Steph has tried and failed to play his clarinet

Do a lot of virtual dates through video call. They like spending time together but obviously can’t see each other in person 24/7, so this is the solution

He’s just there as she puts on her makeup or she’s in the background while he makes dinner

Pete’s definitely fallen asleep with the call still going

They are both night owls but Steph is a lot worse/stays up stupidly late

Pete knows Steph’s favourite makeup products/brands and has every little detail memorised about them. He knows the exact mascara type, the serial number to that red lipstick, the tip of the brush like the back to his hand

They have never had a successful date at Pasqualli’s; something always goes wrong

They also get banned eventually because Steph beat up one of the waiters (Ethan) because he use to bully Pete

Miss Retro’s is their go to

Go to sports games and competitions sarcastically together

They love road trips

Will just drive around Hatchetfield aimlessly for fun

He tries teaching Steph to dance… she stands on his toes a lot

But he loves her and still asks her to dance again and again

Steph can’t kiss Pete without standing on her tiptoes or wearing heels unless he’s bending down

Really want to do karaoke together but their music tastes don’t really overlap so it always ends horribly for someone

After their study dates, Pete always finds lipstick kisses in his notebooks but has never seen or caught Steph doing it, so is always totally thrown and confused. He was with her the entire time, how the fuck did she—

Lautskity:

Pete gets both his girlfriends shoes

More sensible ones for Steph because “you can’t wear heeled boots all the time, you’re gonna break your ankle, Stephanie” and (small) heels for Grace at prom because her parents have never let her wear anything but flats; she deserves nice shoes

She still isn’t tall enough to kiss her partners in them

As much as Pete loves handling Grace’s hair, he’s scared to touch Steph’s - it’s handled by the best, most expensive hairdressers in Hatchetfield or Steph herself, he’s not risking it

Mr Houston and Miss Mulberry go out of their way to fluster them a little about their relationship, not that it works on Steph but the other two? Screwed

They really wanna do group costumes but there are not enough poly ones out there that are well known

Steph goes to the school shows and orchestra performances for them, but doesn’t get the atmosphere at all and treats it like a concert. Has to be told to sit down and put her phone away

All cuddled up together during movie nights

Movie nights, featuring the talk over (historical inaccuracies, problems and opinions) of Pete and Grace, and the unrelated audio from whatever Steph’s watching on her phone

Grace is an early bird, big morning person, and definitely has surprised her partners to breakfast in bed on more than one occasion

They keep meaning to pay her back for it but haven’t managed to wake up before her yet (without waking her in the process, e.g. alarm clock)

Steph has a lot of photos on her phone, half are solely of Pete and Grace. She lets them walk ahead and gets really aesthetic shots without their knowledge - and then are like “wait, where did you get this lockscreen from?”

They don’t really like having their photo taken whereas Steph does

Steph likes being in the middle. She needs them either side. She’s the most physical of the three and, though she won’t admit it, gets a little anxious if they aren’t nearby for long periods of time

She’s also the clingiest

Grace is usually on her right and Pete on the left

(Yes, that’s how they sit in the Summoning, what of it?)

The amount of times Pete and Grace see each other with red marks and think the other has been hurt, only to get closer and realise it’s just Steph’s smeared lipstick is insane

Steph herself has done it at this point

They never really told anyone they were dating, everyone just kinda worked it out or knew about the feelings early on

I already did Pete and Grace, but pretend they are here too

[queerocfandomer]

"Love Settles as SHIELD Falls"

Retelling of the last act of CA: Winter Soldier in which you have a romantic history with Natasha (established but non committed relationship) Reader/OC x Natasha in which Reader is an enhanced SHIELD Agent. (L/N: Jensen)

You had slipped into HQ and taken up the role almost three hours before the unit was dispatched downtown for a sighting of Rogers and Romanoff. You really hated these uniforms; you were not used to the bulky tactical gear, and these darn helmets were stuffy, hot, and tight as all heck. There was not much choice, however, as you needed to ensure the other agents didn't recognize that you were not an actual member of their unit. You were glad to finally be putting the plan into motion, as the discomfort was really starting to get on your nerves.

As you exited the unit and took your place in the formation, your gaze was immediately drawn to Natasha, who appeared obviously roughed up, slightly pale, with blood running from her shoulder. The men kneeling next to her looked equally disheveled, although with no visibly concerning injuries. You did not recognize the man next to Rogers, who was wearing a strange metal backpack of some sort; however, Rumlow was giving him the same treatment, so apparently, your extrication was now up to three.

For a moment, you thought you might have to alter the plan and somehow manage to fight your way out, as the second-in-command seemed ready to pull the trigger right then and there. However a news helicopter appeared overhead, snapping the Agents back to reality, and Rumlow ordered them confined.

You sat patiently, waiting for the right moment as the convoy continued down the road. Listening carefully through to the cab of the vehicle, you heard Rumlow’s orders: you were about six minutes out from where they planned to stop. You shifted slightly to prepare your move just as Wilson spoke,

“...if we don't put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here.”

Moving swiftly, you pulled out the taser, making a fake move towards him before turning on the agent beside you, knocking him out and pulling off your helmet as you replied, “The thing is, they don’t care, because in about five minutes they are just going to execute you all anyway.”

As you tossed your helmet into the corner, Natasha let out a small huff, unable to hide a look of relief.

“Jensen, you know I'm not even going to pretend I'm not happy to see you.”

“Good, because we really don’t have the time,” you said with a smirk as you made your way towards her, kneeling and cutting off her restraints. You continued, “I have a med kit in the extraction vehicle. Can you get that jacket off and use it for now?”

She nodded as you finished cutting Wilson's restraints and turned to Rogers.

“Well, Cap, it’s been a while since we were formally introduced, and I know you’ve had a rough few days, but I hope the fact that I'm getting you out of here is enough to prove I'm on your side.”

“I do recall seeing you around the Triskelion, and my trust for SHIELD agents is on pretty thin ice right now…Romanoff?”

“They would be on my shortlist of trustworthy people, yeah, and they do have a point about the helping.”

“You know, that may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me in front of other people,” you replied with a smirk as you finished with Rogers' restraints and moved to pull out the bag you had stashed under the seat.

She rolled her eyes. “I thought you were out on some high-level Fury-only thing though.”

“Oh, I was. But I got recalled pretty quickly after...you know.”

“Hill?”

You nodded in response as you pulled out the magnetic handles from the bag.

“You two were already in the wind by the time I was anywhere close, and so wearing that god-awful helmet for the last several hours seemed to be the only way to get to you. You can hold a couple hundred pounds, right, Rogers?”

He nodded as you gestured to the handles you had attached to the floor, taking grip as you pulled out the plasma torch.

“We have about two minutes before they stop, and if I get rid of this first, the rest will be much faster when they do,” you said as you began to cut out a circle from the floor. Steve held the metal and moved it to the side, causing a loud thump.

“Well, they did hear that, but we are just pulling up to the location now, so get ready to move.”

As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, you cut through the road and descended into the metro tunnels, quickly making your way down about a block before you heard the others preparing to follow. You cut another hole in the access door nearby, took the jacket Natasha had been using for pressure, and tucked it in the corner inside before heading further west. You paused for a moment at the hatch before exiting back onto the street, hearing the agents taking the bait and heading the other way.

As you approached the SUV, you popped the trunk, grabbed a hoodie, and tossed it to Natasha as you turned to face your new companions.

“Well, here's the choice, Rogers: you can take the keys and go, or you can come with me to the safe location, rendezvous with Hill, where we can explain a few things and then sort out how to take down these Hydra bastards together.”

“How do you know they are Hydra?”

“I hear real good, and Rumlow isn't exactly being quiet about it anymore.”

The three shared some affirming looks and nods before he responded, “Okay, Jensen, lead the way.”

You picked up the keys and closed the trunk before heading towards the cab.

“Romanoff gets shotgun, the med kit is in the glove. And there should be a couple of nine millimeters under each seat if you would like to arm yourselves.”

As you start driving through the city, everyone is rather quiet as Natasha rummages through the medical kit and opens a QuikClot gauze pad with her teeth before applying it to the entrance wound at the front of her shoulder. A light turns yellow as you approach, and instead of speeding through, you slow to stop, turning to Natasha and beginning to apply another bandage to the exit wound as Wilson speaks up from behind you.

“You know you could put the pedal down a bit; we are kind of in a hurry.”

“I'd love to, Wilson, but the first rule of being on the run… you walk.”

Steve echoed your last words, and Natasha grins.

“See, Rogers, I told you so.”

Exchanging a knowing look with her, you can tell she is in more pain than she would admit, and you allow your hand to linger for a moment as you finish applying the bandage before returning your attention to the road.

You hit redial on the phone, and it rings through the speakers. The line connects, and you continue to sit in silence for a moment as the seconds count down. You can hear Wilson about to make a comment, and you and Natasha both raise your arms to hush him at the same time. It takes a full 30 seconds before the automated voice finally speaks: “Line Secured.”

“Jensen, Sierra Kilo, 3-6-4-2-1, Confirm.”

“Hill, Tango Charlie, 8-7-5-3-6, Confirmed.”

“Extrication successful, en route to alternative vehicle with 3 personnel, one GSW stable with significant blood loss, ETA 45 minutes.”

“Three?” “It seems they picked up a third wheel on their adventures.”

“Copy. 45 minutes.”

The line disconnects, and Wilson's reaction causes you all to let out a brief laugh. You notice Natasha is still holding the small autoinjector in her hand.

“Est-ce que tu vas continuer ou est-ce que je dois m'arrêter et te poignarder moi-même parce que tu sais que je le ferai ?” (Are you going to get on with it, or do I have to pull over and stab you myself because you know I will.)

Rogers lets out another sound of amusement from behind you as Natasha rolls her eyes again.

“He speaks French.” “That is not an answer to my question,” you muse back.

“I'd really rather not be hopped up on painkillers right now.”

“Well, it's just Compound 12, so there isn't much in there anyway, and I'm sure Rogers would hold you down for me if I asked. Qu'en penses-tu, capitaine? (What do you think, captain?)”

“Je suis sûr que ça n'arrivera pas. (I'm sure it won't come to that.)”

“Wow. And here I thought neither of you could get any more annoying,” she quips as she injects the liquid into her neck.

“Well, at least you know what they are saying,” Wilson chimes in.

It was only a few more minutes before you pulled up at the car park near the edge of the city.

“We are going to switch out to a less conspicuous vehicle; this one is off the grid but still SHIELD-issued, so better safe than sorry.”

“And where exactly are we going?” asked Rogers.

“A safe site about 30 minutes outside of the city. It's not the nicest, but it's somewhere to figure out a plan and rest for a few hours. Plus, there are a couple of showers which you all could really use…”

“I could say the same for you, RJ.” Natasha nudged you slightly with her elbow on the armrest and left it leaning against you, her head still resting back, eyes closed as you parked.

“Okay boys, it's the green minivan there on the right; the keys are tucked above the exhaust. I just have to wipe the system and set the self-destruct.” You reach for the display and process through a few buttons as everyone opens the doors and steps out.

You lightly grab Natasha's arm as she moves to exit the vehicle.

“Really, Nat, how are you feeling?”

She turned back towards you, and you could see her features relax for a moment, striking blue eyes always causing your heart to soften.

“Hurts like hell but I'll survive, and you know you shouldn't be worrying about me.”

“I do. And yet you know I will anyway.”

You share a soft smile and move to exit the vehicle. She heads towards the van, following the others while you stop at the trunk to gather some further supplies.

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

Prologue available on A03

>>>NEXT PART

[bakersimmer]

Future Story Snippet

Thanks for tagging me @zosa95 💛 I have no idea who to tag here 🤷🏻‍♀️

----

Mattias sat in the backyard, legs stretched out, while Ellie hovered over him with a toy stethoscope jammed against his forehead.

Ellie: Your fever is very bad. I think you need… (dramatic pause) a shot.

She grabbed a plastic syringe from her doctor's kit and jabbed it unceremoniously into his arm.

Mattias: OW! Jesus, a little bedside manner, maybe? Ellie: No talking! Sick people need rest!

Mattias sighed, accepting his fate as Ellie continued her aggressive treatment plan. Lisett, sitting nearby with Mia, raised an eyebrow.

Lisett: So… Why are you actually free in the middle of a workday? Mattias: I overslept.

She gave him a look.

Lisett: And why did you oversleep? Mattias: Because I was tired?

Lisett narrowed her eyes. Mom friend mode: activated.

Lisett: And why were you so tired, Mattias? Mattias: Good question, Officer. Maybe it's because I've been doing tiring things lately. Lisett: Smartass… You look like absolute garbage. Mattias: Thanks! I love you too. Lisett: You sleeping okay? Mattias: Sure. Sometimes even in my own bed. Lisett: Uh-huh. And other times? Mattias: Depends. Lisett: Been drinking a lot? Mattias: Only when I'm thirsty. Lisett: You should probably talk to someone. Preferably someone who isn't a four-year-old.

Ellie, still playing doctor, slapped a band-aid onto his forehead.

Ellie: This will fix you. Mattias: Oh, thank you, doctor. I was worried for a second. Lisett: You should take this more seriously. Mattias: Yes, mother. (dramatically) Ouch!

Ellie cackled and jabbed the syringe into his arm a few more times, just for good measure.

-----

Okay, hear me out. Back in the day (like way back when I was still playing The Sims 2) I used to create characters and write their stories by hand, on real paper, and with a real pen. Fortunately, these notebooks have long since become fuel for the bonfire 🤪 Now, in 2025, I'm doing the exact same thing… just with ts4 and notion. And this story will probably never make it to this page.

I've given up on posing my sims. I hate it. It's annoying and time-consuming. And let's not even talk about searching or making the poses. I hate that too. So instead, I stick to what I like, creating characters in my game and writing their stories. Yeah, I know... I'm weird. But who cares.

[flowersandskeletons526]

"Get Your Colors" - Warriors Concept Album fanfic

Woe! Fox and Rembrandt angst be upon ye!

Used this as my mind break from "Put Your Gloves Up" and now I'll get back to it. Part six of that will be out soon. Until then, enjoy!

Based on @alexihollis's post

----------

“I don’t get it,” said Fox as she leaned over Rembrandt’s shoulder.

Rembrandt paused, looking between the two oil pastel colors she held in her hands. “Don’t get what?” she asked.

“Why don’t you just get the sets?” Fox picked up a beginner’s box of pastels, a rainbow of simple colors, the ones children got when they were first learning to use them. Rembrandt, however, was not first learning to use them and did not need a kit. “Isn’t that cheaper? And you get all the colors.”

“They don’t have the colors I need.”

Fox grabbed a bigger box. “What about this one?”

“That one has too many colors. And it’s too expensive. Besides, I already have some of the colors I want so I’d rather just pick out the ones I don’t have by myself. I’m not paying for something I have at home.” 

“But how do you know what colors you need?”

“I have a plan.”

“But-”

“Fox, do you trust that I know what I’m doing or not?”

“I know you know what you’re doing!” Fox huffed. “I’m just curious. Wait, why do you need four different greens?”

“Because the project I’m working on is a collection of monochromes.”

“What’s a monochrome?”

Rembrandt sighed. She loved Fox, truly, but when the younger girl asked if she could tag along on a trip to the art store, she was not expecting to give a seminar on terms and techniques. “Monochromes are pictures that only use different shades of one color. Usually it’s black and white but I think that’s boring,” she explained.

“Oh. Okay. Can I go look at the sketchbooks?”

“Sure. I’ll come find you.”

It didn’t take Rembrandt much longer to pick out her colors. Trying to balance all of them in her hands, she made her way through the cramped, quiet store to the aisle with the sketchbooks. Fox was not there. Rembrandt cursed under her breath. She hated when she wandered off like this. Walking down each aisle, pausing to look longingly at the nice, expensive spray paints in a locked case, she finally found Fox in the back corner of the store flipping through a book. Fox looked up as Rembrandt came to stand beside her. 

“What did you find?” Rembrandt asked.

Fox showed her the cover. “It’s a guidebook to drawing comic book characters.” 

Rembrandt looked at the book. She looked up at Fox, her eyes intensely focused on the book, gently thumbing the edge of the page. Rembrandt smirked. “Do you want it?”

Fox looked up, eyes wide as her expression brightened. “Really?”

“How much is it?”

“Six dollars. We don’t have the money, do we?”

“Let me check.” She picked out roughly a quarter of the oil pastels in her hands and discreetly slipped them into the inside pocket of Ajax’s leather jacket that she’d borrowed for the day. It was so loose on her that no one would notice if she hid a whole spray paint can in the pocket, let alone a few small sticks. She put a finger to her lips and smiled. “Yeah, we have the money.” 

Fox broke out in a broad grin. Rembrandt made another shut up gesture, and Fox nodded and clutched the book to her chest. They paid for the art supplies and the book - minus the ones snuck into Rembrandt’s pocket - and headed home. Once they were a few blocks away, Fox leaned down and lowered her voice. 

“How many did you swipe?”

“Four or five.”

“Nice.” Fox gasped. “Oh, shit! I don’t have any paper to draw on!”

“I have an extra little sketchbook you can take.”

“Are you sure?” Fox asked with another big smile. 

“Yeah. It’s one I stole, anyway.” It actually wasn’t. She was planning on keeping it in her jacket so she could draw on the train without carrying her full sized sketchbook everywhere, but she could never say no to Fox when her face lit up like that. 

When they arrived back at the apartment, Ajax was lying on the couch watching some thriller TV show. Fox sat at the kitchen table with her book while Rembrandt stood behind the couch. Ajax sat up as Rembrandt leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “How was the art store?”

“It was good,” Rembrandt said. “Got the colors I need and Fox got a book on how to draw comic book characters.”

Ajax glanced at Fox, engrossed in the book, and sat up further to whisper to Rembrandt. “Do we have money for that?”

“I mopped a couple oil pastels and that made up for it.”

“You gotta stop doing that before you get caught.”

“And if I do, I will talk my way out of it.” 

“You’re dangerous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Ajax pulled Rembrandt close by her waist and peppered her face and neck with kisses. Rembrandt laughed, cupping Ajax’s face and planting a long, gentle kiss on her lips. 

From the kitchen, Fox called, “Get a room!”

-----

Cowgirl fidgeted on Cleon’s couch. Rembrandt had had her sitting there for close to an hour, and, shockingly, she was almost out of things to say. Sitting in the armchair across from her, Rembrandt barely noticed. When she really got to working on a drawing, she could work through the night without realizing until Ajax woke up and gave her shit for not sleeping again. 

Cowgirl groaned and threw her head back so Rembrandt would finally look up. “Girl, how long do I have to stay like this?” she whined. 

“I’m still blocking colors,” said Rembrandt. “Calm down, I’m almost finished. I just need to get a few more shapes in and then I can do the details on my own.”

“Can I at least see it?”

“Not yet. And stop moving your hat. You change the shape of your hair when you do that.”

“None of your other drawings of me have taken this long.”

“This one is special.”

“Um, excuse me, all pictures of me are special.”

“This one’s a collection,” said Fox. Getting up from the table, she came up behind Rembrandt and put her arms around her shoulders. Rembrandt paused her drawing to squeeze Fox’s hand. “They’re monochromes. She’s doing them for all of us. We’re all different colors.”

“What color am I?” Cowgirl asked. Rembrandt lifted the royal purple oil pastel she was working with in response. “Why am I purple?”

“You feel purple,” Rembrandt said simply.

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.” Rembrandt set aside her pastel. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Thank god.” Cowgirl stood up and stretched. “I need a drink.”

While Cowgirl headed into the kitchen, Fox reached out to touch the edge of the drawing, making sure she didn’t smudge anything. She rested her chin atop Rembrandt’s head. “Hey, what color am I?” she inquired. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet.”

-----

Shouts and screams echoed behind them. The pounding footsteps of their pursuers like a horde of nightmares. Flashing lights and police sirens in the distance, more shots as the world devolved into chaos. Rembrandt ran faster than she ever had in her life. She barely felt the burn of her lungs and her muscles. She barely heard Swan and Cochise and Ajax shouting instructions behind her. All she could focus on was the path ahead and Fox running just as fast beside her.

Fox tripped. She fucking tripped. Rembrandt almost fell herself with how hard she backpedaled. She grabbed Fox’s arm, hauling her to her feet as panicked words tumbled from the younger girl’s lips.

“We’re dead!” she cried. “We’re fucking dead! When I woke up today, I didn’t think we could die!”

“Neither did I!”

Swan shouted behind them. “The cemetery! Go to the cemetery! Go!”

Rembrandt found herself hiding behind a tombstone, pressing her back against the cold, wet rock as she tried and failed to catch her breath. Fox knelt beside her and clung to her arm. A helicopter flew overhead as lights and blaring sirens passed the cemetery. Swan stood, looking around, and motioned for everyone to stand up. “Make sure we’re okay,” she said.

“This is a graveyard,” Rembrandt said pointedly, because Swan usually wasn’t one for dumb sentences but that was fucking stupid. 

“Everybody make it?”

They’d all made it. All except Cleon. All except the best of them.

Rembrandt hadn’t been this terrified since before the Warriors found her. She couldn’t breathe. She could barely see through the rain and the tears she desperately tried to blink away. 

“What are we gon’ do?” she whispered. Fox was right there echoing her. “What are we gon’ do?”

“We get back home alive.”

-----

Rembrandt sat on the floor behind the couch in her and Ajax’s apartment. Her, Ajax, and… Fox. It used to be home, it used to be home for the three of them. She still remembered how happy Fox was when they found an apartment and she got her own room for the first time in her life, no longer on Cleon’s couch or briefly sharing Swan’s room when they decided she couldn’t just stay in the living room anymore. She remembered how excited she was to decorate it with comic book posters and all the plushies she collected from carnival games on the boardwalk. 

Hanging on the walls were the best of Rembrandt’s drawings of her. Fox loved to sit for portraits. She always said how pretty it made her feel. Even months after losing her, Rembrandt couldn’t bring herself to go into that room. Everything left of Fox was just sitting there collecting dust. Rembrandt couldn’t face that. All she could do was stare at the forever-closed door.

The front door to the apartment opened and shut. She flinched at the sharp thunk of the deadbolt, her mind throwing her back into an east village loft, sitting beside Fox on a couch, clinging to her hand and wondering how the hell she’d gotten into a situation like that. 

“Baby, I’m home!” Ajax called. Rembrandt pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Ajax’s footsteps padded through the apartment, around the couch, and Rembrandt heard her sigh as she knelt beside her. Ajax touched her cheek, and she leaned into the contact. It was second nature at this point. “Why are you on the floor?”

Rembrandt jerked her head towards Fox’s bedroom door. Ajax exhaled sharply through her nose. Wordlessly, she sat on the floor beside Rembrandt and pulled her into her lap, holding tight as Rembrandt wrapped her arms around her neck and buried her face in the crook of her shoulder. She was so sick of crying but she couldn’t stop it, burning tears dripping down her face and soaking into Ajax’s shirt. 

“I miss her,” she whispered.

“I know,” Ajax said. “I miss her, too.”

-----

“I don’t think Rembrandt likes me,” Mercy mumbled. 

“What are you talking about?” Swan asked. “She likes you.”

Rembrandt overheard from the living room in Cleon and Swan’s apartment, which was also Mercy’s apartment now, too, she supposed. Everyone else was out at work or doing gang business and Ajax was still reluctant to leave Rembrandt alone given her mental state over the past months, so she sat with a blank sketchbook in Cleon’s living room until Ajax got back. She tried her best to ignore Swan and Mercy’s conversation but the walls were thin and she couldn’t tune it out. 

“She looks at me like she wants me dead,” Mercy continued. 

“It’s just resting bitch face. That’s how she looks at everyone she doesn’t know.”

Wow, Rembrandt thought. Thanks, Swan.

“Did she look at you like that?”

“No, but that was Rembrandt then. This is Rembrandt now, and she’s just… she’s getting used to you.”

“Everyone else did. Even Ajax doesn’t side eye me every time I walk into the room.”

“Are you mad?”

“No! No, I’m not mad. I just wanna know what I’m doing wrong.”

Rembrandt sank into the couch. She didn’t dislike Mercy and it hurt to know Mercy thought that but it just hurt so much to face her because-

“You’re… you remind her of Fox,” Swan said. “And I mean it in the best way! But Rembrandt just can’t-”

Rembrandt turned on the TV and cranked the volume until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts.

-----

Rembrandt stood over her desk in her and Ajax’s bedroom, rifling through her desk and sorting her sketchbooks and drawings. The books had begun to pile up around the room, her desk was running out of storage space, and the corner she designated for larger canvases and other projects had gone from a corner to an entire wall. Ajax hadn’t exactly asked her to clear out some of the pieces, but she always apologized profusely when she knocked over a stack of books or almost damaged a painting, so Rembrandt decided to whittle down her collection to just the best and most sentimental. 

With her desk mostly sorted, she turned to the squat filing cabinet she kept beside it. In the bottom drawer, she discovered her collection of oil pastel portraits. She found it within herself to smile as she flipped through the stiff sheets of drawing paper. She’d finished most of them a long time ago, maybe missing a detail or two here and there, and there were some parts she could go back and touch up if she really wanted. 

The first one she picked up was Ajax, her strong features highlighted in rich, deep reds, piercing eyes staring directly off the page.

There was Cochise in hunter green, a side profile, smiling softly.

Cowgirl in royal purple, adjusting the brim of her hat with a grin.

Swan’s calm, stoic face in dark night-sky blue. 

A self portrait in sunshine yellow.

Cleon in gold. Rembrandt had had to do a lot of experimenting with colors on that one to make sure the palette didn’t look too similar to her own portrait. She’d used mod podge and gold glitter in the shadows of the piece to give it that extra bit of glow Cleon always seemed to carry with her.

Rembrandt’s heart sank when she got to the last drawing.

Fox, in bright Tiffany blue. Fox with a wide grin, Fox with her sparkling eyes staring back at Rembrandt, immortalized in such a fragile fucking medium that some of the details had already begun to disappear from just sitting in a drawer. Any light touch would smudge the pigment and Rembrandt would lose more and more of her because nothing could be permanent, none of it was permanent, she tried so hard to hold on but no matter what she was just going to lose her all over again-

Rembrandt screamed and swiped half of everything off her desk. Sketchbooks and pencils and paint cans crashed to the floor, and Rembrandt fell to her knees amidst the mess, unable to look at the portrait any longer. 

When Ajax got home later, she found Rembrandt curled into a ball under her desk, still bawling her eyes out, covering her mouth to silence herself. Ajax spotted Fox’s drawing on the desk and didn’t ask what was wrong. She just sat a comfortable distance from Rembrandt and waited for her to come out. Rembrandt loved her for that.

-----

Rembrandt took a deep breath, shifting her backpack straps on her shoulders before knocking on the door to Cleon’s apartment. Mercy answered. Rembrandt knew she would. She’d planned for this, making sure to come over when she knew Mercy was home from work and Cleon and Swan had business to handle. She wanted this to just be for her and Mercy. She just… she needed it to be.

Mercy raised her eyebrows, visibly confused when she opened the door to find Rembrandt alone. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” said Rembrandt. “Can I come in?”

Mercy stepped aside hurriedly, as if she found it rude that she’d been keeping Rembrandt in the hall, even if she really wasn’t. Rembrandt took a few steps into the kitchen as Mercy closed the front door behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” Mercy asked. “Cleon and Swan are out if you need to talk to them.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

Rembrandt fidgeted. She took a deep breath. “Will you sit for a portrait?”

Mercy blinked, taken aback. “Um… when?”

“Now.”

“Now?”

“It’ll take two hours at most. Probably not even that long. Please?”

“Sure. Sure, okay.”

It took closer to three hours, despite Rembrandt’s best efforts. She had Mercy sit on the couch and let her put something on TV instead of having her sit in silence, even if Rembrandt would have preferred that. It took so long because she had to scrap the start of three different versions. It had been so long since she practiced this that she kept fucking up the gradients to the point where she had to take a break and go smoke with Mercy on the stoop to avoid screaming in frustration and forgetting the whole idea. 

While trying to get the shape of Mercy’s bangs right, Rembrandt’s vision blurred. She jerked her head up just before the tears had a chance to fall on the drawing. She turned aside, scrubbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve, somehow managing to keep her breathing steady. 

Mercy noticed and sat up straight. “Rembrandt?” she asked, just a little panicked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m okay,” Rembrandt assured her. “It’s… I don’t know. But I’m okay. Please just move back to where you were.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m okay.”

She didn’t need too much more time after that before she was satisfied with the result. Of course, she would look at it the next day and find a million things wrong with it, but she could correct or add or remove details after the fact. As she set her oil pastel aside, her fingertips stained with the pigment, she brushed her thumb along the very edge of the page. It left a miniscule cut behind, a bead of blood staining her skin. She had a momentary flash of panic but nothing got on the paper so it was okay. She wrapped her fingers over her thumb, squeezing until it throbbed, until the bleeding stopped and the stinging disappeared. Mercy, thankfully, did not notice that.

In her peripheral vision, Mercy shifted closer to her on the couch. “Can I see it?”

Rembrandt hesitated. Normally she didn’t share portraits until they were completely finished, but…

She sat beside Mercy and passed her the drawing. “Just don’t touch it. It smudges easily.”

Mercy grinned when she saw her portrait: head resting on her hand and tilted to the side, hair delicately swept behind her ear, eyes calm and gentle, the corner of her lips lifting in just the hint of a smirk. It was all done in the softest coral pink, almost ethereal in the light. She reached over to rest a hand on Rembrandt’s forearm without looking. Rembrandt thought she might cry.

“It’s amazing,” Mercy said with a light laugh. “I don’t think I’ve seen any of your work besides the graffiti before. I didn’t know you could do this.”

“The only medium I don’t work with is oil paint,” Rembrandt said. “Maybe if I win the lottery.”

“This looks like an oil painting. It’s like something out of a museum.”

“Thanks. It’s gonna be part of a project I never finished.”

Mercy turned to her. “What is it?”

“You’ll see it when I finish it.” 

“Swan said you do that.”

“She knows me.” Rembrandt took a deep breath, her shoulders curling in as she met Mercy’s eyes. “I don’t hate you, you know.”

Mercy grimaced. “You heard that?”

“The walls are thin and you guys always talk right next to the door.”

“Noted.”

“For real, though. Look, I admit that I… I’m still getting used to you being here. You’re so much like her that it just throws me for a loop sometimes and I know Swan has told you I don’t like strangers and you’re really not one anymore but I…” Rembrandt’s voice broke. She turned away from Mercy, covering her mouth to keep quiet as she screwed her eyes shut. Was her heart really choosing right now to have a breakdown over this?

Mercy angled herself in and put an arm around Rembrandt. This very much broke the first rule of the “how to keep Rembrandt from freaking out” rulebook that Rembrandt knew Swan had set, but Rembrandt was glad she did it. She shifted closer, wrapping her arms loosely around Mercy’s waist as Mercy pulled her fully into a soft embrace.

Rembrandt closed her eyes and let the tears fall. Mercy didn’t say anything. She just held her.

-----

“Is it straight?” Swan asked.

Rembrandt stood back from the wall. Swan and Ajax stood on chairs, positioning a giant canvas while the other Warriors watched them. Behind Rembrandt, Mercy put her arms around her shoulders and watched over the top of the artist’s head.

“I think Swan’s side needs to come down a little bit,” said Cowgirl from where she sat in the arm chair. 

“Cowgirl, you’re holding your head at a tilt,” Rembrandt said with a wave of her hand. “Ajax, let your side come down an inch. Wait, never mind, half an inch. Yes! There! You guys can let go of it.” 

Swan and Ajax let go and got down off the chairs, stepping back to stand with the rest of the gang. 

Now hung perfectly on the living room wall was a collage of all of Rembrandt’s monochrome portraits. They were lovingly cut out and carefully arranged together, with Fox front and center and the others supporting around her. Behind them was a detailed black-and-white background of the city, enough to fill the empty canvas but not distracting from the main subjects, everything pasted down and covered with sealant so nothing could ever damage the fragile pigments again. 

All of the Warriors, immortalized. 

Cleon crossed her arms and whistled. “Damn, Rem, this is some work. How long you been hiding this?”

“It wasn’t finished,” Rembrandt said simply. “Now it is. With all of us.” 

Mercy held Rembrandt tighter.