#and this usually makes me realize that yeah

[eff-plays]

#the thing is the cultural artifact repatriation is handled in SUCH a shallow way#it doesn't dig into what 'cultural artifacts' might include or why repatriation matters#that's what makes it feel like lip service to an important irl concept#also it simply makes the companion dialogues boring when everybody nods wisely to themselves. yes so wise of us.#dav#dav spoilere#dragon age the veilguard#dragon age the veilgaurd spoilers#also op your dialogue rewrite just *sounds more like dragon age*#historically they have been obsessed with presenting 'both sides' even to conflicts with clear oppressors and oppressed

*nodding sagely*

I got a party banter between Bellara and Taash about how the Lords of Fortune steal elven artifacts. And then Taash clarifies later that they have a Dalish expert on the team so they can check to make sure the Lords don't sell something culturally important and instead return it to the elves.

Like. I get it. You want the Lords to be fun swashbuckler Disney pirates and Robin Hoods instead of actual pirates who steal and plunder. Because we're only now in Western society realizing that stealing from indigenous groups is, uh, bad. But like. Writing really uninteresting factions for your "dark" fantasy (tho lbr Dragon Age hasn't been dark fantasy since DA2) isn't gonna solve real-world neo-colonialism, ya know? The Lords not stealing priceless elven artifacts and returning them to the elves doesn't signal to me that the Lords are total rascally good guys, it signals to me that BioWare itself is trying really hard to seem morally conscious. "See? We know stealing from other cultures is bad!!!"

And man. Not to be a "political correctness has poisoned media" grifter on main (tbh it's less political correctness itself and more the commodification of real-world activism) but I couldn't help but imagine how this convo would've played out in earlier games, potentially even Inquisition.

You could've so EASILY made this interesting while giving the Lords and Taash and Bellara a lot more depth, while also making it clear that stealing from indigenous groups is wrong.

Just have the Lords, yeah, actually sell those artifacts. But also establish that the Lords take in and help elves from all walks of life. That they free slaves, or collaborate with alienages. Then you could have Taash defend the practice by saying to Bellara that little orphaned elf kids being sold as slaves probably don't give a flying fuck about some artifacts they're never gonna see, but the money from selling those artifacts goes to buying them food. And have Bellara fire back that preserving elven culture is also part of its survival, and that there are Dalish clans that would be willing to pay for them or offer something in return. Or have her say that the Lords are doing charity for the sake of recruitment rather than actual altruism. And then Taash responds that those high and mighty Dalish elves don't do shit to help abandoned city elves, just because those aren't part of their correct elven subculture, and they care more about reclaiming old glory than helping the people that exist here and now.

Then you could have side missions or at least codex entries that describe maybe some Lord recruit being conflicted about what they're doing. Maybe a few of them are collaborating to hijack a deal or steal back an artifact. Have implications that some high-ranking Lords are, in fact, using those artifacts for their own gain, despite claiming otherwise. Have some Lords genuinely trying to help, and believing that gold and trinkets don't matter as much as people's lives, so they sell them in exchange for safety for refugees or slaves or some other helpless group.

But no. Instead it's "hey do you steal from my people?" "nah lmao we have a cultural advisor don't even worry about it" "oh wow so cool and woke of you!" And then that's it. No need for any further discussion. No conflict and no complexity. No bad actors and moral quandaries.

Weh.

[sunni-stuff]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

His question hit like a punch, and the pressure of it lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. Armed Forces Day? Three years ago? A sharp jolt of recognition hit you, though the details of that night remained fuzzy. The memories were there, but they felt distant—like something you hadn't allowed yourself to fully remember after becoming a mother. 

You steadied yourself, trying to mask the unease rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?” you tried to sound steady but the tightening grip on your purse betrayed the rush of nerves running through you.

Simon shifted, his broad frame nearly eclipsing the dim light of the bar. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to wrestle in his own head, as though each word carried a burden too heavy to bear. “There was a night,” he began, his tone low and rough, every syllable deliberate. “Here. Three years ago. You were here. So was I.”

Your heart skipped, a wave of realization hitting with an almost physical force. The hazy recollections of that night flooded back, slowly accumulating together—laughter, drinks, an unexpected connection. Something that hadn’t felt planned but had burned far too bright to ignore.

The knot in your stomach twisted painfully, every part of you urging you to push it away, but the truth had already begun to sink in. “You’re…” The words stalled in your throat, heavy and lodged, the sentence unfinished as the reality stung like an accusation between you.

Simon exhaled sharply, part sigh, part laugh—but there was no humor in it. His gaze locked onto yours with unsettling intensity, and for a moment, it felt like he was waiting for you to break. “Yeah,” he replied simply, the word thick with certainty. “And she’s mine, isn’t she?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine, your body instinctively stiffening. The truth strung in the silence between you both, too glaring to avoid. Heart racing, every sense screamed to deny it, to distance yourself from this conversation before it spiraled out of control. But anything that could be said felt wrong, heavy on your tongue as you forced them out: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Simon’s eyes held yours, filled with something you hadn’t seen before—a desperation that cut through his usually composed demeanor. “Please,” he urged, the plea more potent. “Just tell me.”

How could this be happening? How could something so raw, so unspoken, suddenly spill into the air between the two of you? The weight of the moment anchored you, and for a moment, you couldn’t find a way to move past it. 

“She is,” you muttered at last, the confession slipping out like an unwanted secret. Fingers clenched tightly against the table’s edge, grounding yourself against the suffocating reality pressing in. “I never thought… never thought you'd come back into the picture.”

A brief silence stretched out before you spoke again, everything tumbling out in a rush. "I didn’t even know your name. All I recall was you kept making me." The admission hung in the air, lighter than it was, an attempt to lighten everything you didn’t want to say. 

The memory refused to stay buried. His face from that night, the intensity of his stare under the bar’s muted glow, how his presence seemed magnetic and overwhelming all at once—it all surfaced, unbidden. The connection had been undeniable, but that was your secret to carry. He didn’t need to know the details you still clung to.. 

“I don’t even know how it happened,” The sentence barely made it past your lips. “We used protection.” Doubt crept into your mind, unraveling the careful narrative you’d built for yourself. Did we? The past, fogged by alcohol and blurred moments, refused to come into focus.

Simon blinked, the blankness in his expression giving way to confusion, then disbelief. “Did we?” he asked with an edge of uncertainty. He was searching for answers neither of you seemed able to provide. Silence filled the space between you, heavy with unspoken questions.

"That parts a bit fuzzy," you admitted quietly, thoughts drifting away, the edges of the remembrance blurring with every passing second. “And clearly we didn't given our current situation.” 

Meeting his gaze, you knew this was the man from that fortunate night. Only different. More mature as if life hadn’t been kind to him. “All I know is… I woke up, and it was just me.” The recollection hung heavier than expected, twisting in your chest. "I never imagined I’d run into you again."

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, the gravity of everything left unsaid pressing down on the air. Neither of you knew how to move forward, or even if moving forward was possible.

“I knew she was mine,” Simon muttered, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. He looked like he was trying to hold something back, fighting against his own emotions threatening to break free.

You blinked in disbelief, the reality of his revelation settling in like ice in your veins. “You saw her?” The shock was evident. The idea that he had been so close—watching, perhaps even knowing—yet remained silent was almost too much to process.

Simon nodded, his gaze never meeting yours as he began. “Last month. When you were leaving the café with her. Johnny stopped you, and I was there.” He hesitated, swallowing hard as if the bulk of it all was pressing on him. “Johnny and the lads, they were the first to say they saw a little girl with my face. I was skeptical at first But then… then I saw the two of you together. And I saw it. Saw me in her. I had no idea she was even a possibility. Or that you were, for that matter."

Your breath hitched, a sharp sting rising in your chest. The anger that had been simmering beneath the surface, the hurt, and the confusion all collided in one sudden wave. “Why didn’t you say anything?” The question shot out before you could stop it, the accusation sharp and loaded with all the frustration. He had been so close. Watching. Why didn’t he speak up?

Simon paused, his gaze dropping to his hands, fingers flexing as if he were trying to grasp for something he couldn’t hold. The silence stretched long between you, the tension palpable, as if the room itself was holding its breath. He wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came. 

“I…” He started, staring at his hands as though they might hold the answer. “I’m not good with things like this, love.” He rubbed the back of his neck, having a hard time fully expressing how he felt but this moment needed authenticity. “I needed time to figure out if I could step into a life that was already doing fine without me. I was afraid of complicating things, of ruining something that was just fine without me."

You didn’t expect what he said to hit you so hard. The impact of his confession—that he had stayed away because he wasn’t sure if he was fit to be a part of your life, Adira’s life—settled deep within you, heavier than you could have imagined. You’d been fine, hadn’t you? Raising Adira, carving out a life on your own. But there's always been that lingering voice in the back of your mind, that small, quiet thought of “what if?” What if things had been different? What if he had been there from the start? Maybe you wouldn’t have had to quit those overpriced mommy-and-me classes because of those judgmental women who gossiped behind your back. Maybe things would’ve been easier.

“I wasn’t about to just waltz in, love,” Simon’s voice softened, more vulnerable now, like he was carefully weighing his thoughts. “I needed to know if you’d even want me here. You and her…” His gaze darkened for a moment, his voice trailing off as though unable to bear too much out in the open. “I wasn’t sure if I was the right person to step into something already so… perfect.”

In those words, there was something you hadn’t expected to hear from him: honesty. He was afraid. Afraid of being the one to ruin what you had built. Afraid of not being enough for you or for Adira.

“I guess I understand,” you said quietly. "I just wish you showed up sooner."

Simon didn’t answer right away. Something within him flickered with guilt, and for a moment, you both stood there in silence. He glanced down at his hands, fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

"Can I meet her?" Simon asked nervously, a grown man fidgeting in his seat, the weight of his request sinking in.

"Now?" You chuckled, trying to brighten the moment. "It's late. I'm sure she's already asleep."

Simon’s gaze flickered with hesitation, but the desire was clear. He was barely holding it together, as if afraid that the chance to meet his daughter would slip away if he didn’t ask now. 

"I understand," he mumbles after a pause, almost to himself, but there was a longing there you couldn’t ignore. "I just…I need to see her. To know her. Even if just for a moment."

The magnitude of the situation pressed down on you again, this wasn’t something you had expected when you woke up this morning. You had no clue what to do with all of this, with him, with Adira’s future—your future. But still, you could hear his sincerity.

"Tomorrow," You decided. "We can meet up tomorrow, but it has to be on her terms. She's not exactly the warmest with new people."

Simon nodded, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "I can wait."

You gave him a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the moment. There was still so much to figure out, but at least now, for the first time, there was a possibility. A chance to rebuild what had been lost. "Bring toys," you suggested sincerely, thinking about what would make her happy. "She likes trains. Doesn’t need to be anything cartoon-ish, just a proper train."

Simon blinked, a touch of confusion in his gaze. "She doesn't like dolls? Like most girls?" His tone had a hint of disbelief, as though he couldn’t quite picture a little girl who wasn’t into the typical, pink frilly things.

The thought of dolls made your stomach tighten, and you shook your head vehemently, as if to expel the very idea. "God, no," you replied, unease creeping into the conversation. "Please, don’t bring dolls. That’s the last thing I want." You shuddered as you spoke, recalling all the unnerving memories. "She gets all Sid from Toy Story with them."

Simon’s brow furrowed even deeper, clearly unsure. "What does that mean?"

You visibly grimaced, the image flashing vividly in your mind. "It means I wake up to doll heads scattered all over the place," you say, your voice low and serious. "And it's... creepy. Like she's planning something with them. It’s like waking up in a horror movie."

Simon chuckled at first, but as he saw the unflinching seriousness in your expression, his laughter quickly turned uncertain. His grin faded, and the unease that filled his eyes told you that he was realizing this wasn’t some joke. "You’re messing with me, right?"

Your stare at him, completely deadpan. "I wish I was."

For a moment, Simon just stared, taking in your unwavering expression. His lips parted, a nervous laugh escaping him as he absorbed warning. "Alright," he said slowly, now understanding your cautious warning. "No dolls. Trains. Got it."

You gave a relieved sigh, feeling the baggage lift off your shoulders. The tension hadn’t fully gone, but for now, at least the toy issue was settled. There were plenty of bigger things to confront later, but this? This was a small victory.

This one is a little shorter than the rest, simply because I want the meet up chapter to be really long for yall! :3

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[moonstruckme]

hi love I like all ur fics!!! Ur most recent emt Maurader made me realize tho we don't always get to see Sirius being vulnerable so what about a fic where may be he's having an off day? Or runs into a cousin and they completely ignore him and he tries to act like it doesn't bother him and just reader comforting him and giving him space

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: allusion to past abuse, discussion of toxic workplace dynamics

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius gets home from work early. You’re in the bedroom, stomach-down on the mattress with your book in front of you. You hear the front door open and come out to greet your boyfriend, but your smile falls when you see him. 

Sirius’ face is red. He doesn’t usually color when he’s upset, so you take it to mean something that he has now. He steps on the back of his shoe a couple of times before he manages to get it off, stomps on the back of the other even more harshly. You think he might be shaking. 

“Sirius?” 

He flinches. Turning around, his expression twinges with some mix of emotions at seeing you, too muddled to parse apart. He seals them all away quickly. 

You take a step towards him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” It comes out hoarse. Sirius clears his throat. “Yeah. Just a shit day at work.” 

“You’re home early,” you note. 

Sirius nods curtly. You think maybe that’s that, but his expression is conflicted. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” you ask gently, going to the couch and hoping he’ll follow. He does. It’s a challenge not to reach for his hand, to pull him closer or offer some kind touch, but the stiffness about Sirius’ frame hints that it may not be well received right now. 

When he’s still silent after a moment, you say, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I could make tea and we could just relax.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, tersely, like he might be trying to convince himself more than you. “I think I’m probably going to be fired, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up. 

“I…you know how I got a new boss a few weeks ago?” 

You nod mutely. 

“Right, well, she’s got a temper. At least a couple times a week I’ll hear her shouting at someone in her office and she’s already managed to fire from almost every team.” Your dread mounts as Sirius goes on, speaking faster now that he’s on a roll. “She called me in after lunch. I fucked up something in a report—I hadn’t checked it and it had gotten sent out with the error—and she was pissed. She screamed at me—really screamed, stood up and got red in the face and all that—for probably ten minutes before she sent me back to my desk. And I just came home.” Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “If she doesn’t fire me, I might quit.” 

“You should, baby.” Your voice pitches with dismay, hurt and outrage for him warring inside you. You take a chance and reach for his hand. Sirius fits his fingers between yours instinctively, something seeming to loosen in him at the touch. “I can’t believe she really shouted at you. No one deserves that, least of all for a silly error in a report. She should be fired for that.” 

Sirius gives you a little smile, but it dissolves at the edges, watery. A cavity opens in your chest as his eyes grow shiny. 

“Baby.” 

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. Blinking. “Sorry,” he says roughly. “I never used to do this.” You feel your face pinch with sympathy. He means cry, you know. Sirius as an adult is more emotional than he was as a child, but you still rarely see him cry. “She just—she sounded just like my mother.” 

Realization comes like a blow to your middle. “Oh, my love,” you say breathlessly, moving to put your arms around him. 

Sirius usually hugs with his whole being. He throws himself into it, with force and purpose and his own rough brand of caring. So you’re used to letting him take the lead, but now, when his arms come around you hesitantly, you’re the one who applies the pressure. And Sirius melts against you. 

You cup the back of his neck in one hand and squeeze between his shoulders with the other, imagining your love pouring out of you and into him through your palms. Sirius is quiet, but you feel a couple of hot tears transfer from his chin to your shirt. You worry he’s holding his breath. 

“Sirius.” You say his name with all the tenderness you can summon, afraid of him hearing echoes of his mother’s voice. “I’m so sorry, lovely. You never, ever deserve to be shouted at that way.” 

“Even if I told you I left your favorite mug at my office?” he jokes weakly. 

You let him go. There aren’t many tears to brush off his cheeks, and you make short work of them, soothing your thumbs over his face just for the sake of it. Surprisingly, his complexion is less agitated than it had been when he’d come in. He was holding it in, you realize. 

“Don’t ever let me speak to you like that,” you say.

Sirius’ expression sobers. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.” 

“Really. Leave me if I talk to you like that, I’m serious.” 

“No, that’s me.” 

One side of your mouth tips up without your consent. “Bad joke.” 

Sirius mirrors you, grinning halfheartedly. “You think you’d have learned to evade it by now.” 

You gather that he wants things to be light now. That’s okay. You know Sirius has a difficult time with the truly heavy emotions—anger is an instinct for him, but tears and sorrow he’s never known what to do with. You’ll talk about it more over time, in bits and pieces where he’s comfortable. And just because you’re letting it go now doesn’t mean you’re done coddling him. 

You let your hands coast down from his face to either side of his neck, massaging gently the tension in his shoulders. “Did you really bring my favorite mug to work?” 

Sirius’ smile goes a tad sheepish. “Yes?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because it makes me think of my most favorite sweetheart when I get coffee from the break room,” he says, smarmy. “Also, it was the first one I saw when I went to grab one from our cabinet.” 

You smile at him. Sirius pretends at facetiousness, but you know the first reason had been the genuine one. 

“What,” he asks, “you didn’t notice it was missing?”��

“No, I did. I only thought you’d broken it.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” 

“What’d be the point?” 

A soft, intimate look comes over Sirius’ face. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, gray eyes raw and quiet, “do I?” 

You match his tone. “Of course you do, lovely. You deserve better than me, it’s just I’m what you’ve got.” 

“Mm, there’s another way you’re not allowed to speak.” He wraps his arms around you, pressing a heavy-fond kiss to your hairline. “I won’t have any of that talk.” 

“I’ll trade you that for the jokes about your name.” 

“No, I don’t think so. You’re going to have to work a little harder, doll, I’m not giving those up so easily.”

[snapdrag0n]

Everybody saying martin and yes. Yes. Of course I agree. Duh. It's also kind of the curse of being a VERY complex, VERY famous fictional character who also goes through a lot of change during the story and whose character arc includes him being misread and misunderstood by others.

But it's still frustrating because it's so obvious. Tma does a great job at depicting how people's perception of Martin is VERY wrong. People SAY things about him and afterwards, Martin SHOWS you that assumption was completely off - sometimes immediately after! Jon assumes Martin is incapable? Mere episodes later Martin has worked so hard that he got locked in his house for 13 days and still, the first thing he does as he's freed is make a statement. Jon starts recognizing his ability to be "almost cunning" soon after -- he's seeing the real Martin.

In s2-3 Tim is convinced all Martin wants is an idyllic reality where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happens. Tim assumes Martin wants an escape, when the ENTIRETY of s3 is Martin being nearly the only one to actually face what is happening -- HE's making the statements and researching them on his own, not Tim, as bad as it makes him feel. And when Elias tells him his devotion is to a person who treats him quite badly his answer is "yeah, I know". Because he DOES. People keep assuming Martin doesn't stand up for himself, but it's the opposite -- Martin knows EXACTLY when someone is mistreating him and manipulating him, and he usually uses that. Why else would he have been so strongly considered for the Web? Elias's first idea was to destroy Martin's image of Jon -- but he can't, because Martin ALREADY knows. That's when he hits way closer, to his parents and his mother, the one topic that's actually still a sore subject for him. And yet, after all that, he immediately gets up and gets back to business, his plan having succeeded. He gets back to work. Martin's ability to manipulate a situation to his advantage is CONSISTENTLY shown and NOBODY SEEMS TO SEE IT both in the show and outside of it.

And s4 oh s4. To me it's peak Martin season because everything he's been trying to push against becomes too strong for him -- and still he perseveres and proves everyone wrong. Here, the concept of him knowing he's being manipulated and using it to his benefit is central to his arc and consistent until the end -- everytime you think Peter might have finally gotten him, Martin reminds you he knows EXACTLY who he's working with, and beats him, even when the Lonely has nearly completely got him (then there's Jon pulling him out, and him finally, finally getting back all that love he's given, all that caring. But that's another story. I love jmart)

And s5 has a lot of him, and I could go on and on, but I'll just say this. You probably don't realize just how much Martin manipulates the situations he's in so that what he wants can happen, and it's not obvious in s5, but he's actually doing it with his relationship with Jon -- not in a bad, actually manipulative way, mostly, but in the way you would if you saw your partner go through what Jon went through, become what Jon has become. Martin pushes Jon to get out of his guilty mindset. Martin convinces Jon to get out and try to make it better. If you still don't see it: do you realize that in the finale, despite Jon betraying everything they'd organized, what happens is STILL what Martin wanted?

It might be unfair to call it manipulation: it's not. Martin, at his core, loves immensely, and that's something any fan sees. What many people don't truly understand is HOW Martin loves: he doesn't love carelessly and selflessly (except in the very beginning, maybe). Martin loves very, very carefully. He adores and loves and takes CARE of it. He's stubborn, hard, and resolute in the face of it. He will not sit and take it. He will love actively and he will fight for it.

Worst pain

[sheep-from-rad]

Hi! Sorry if this is weird or anything, this is my first time sending an ask lol

But I just finished reading your writing about the singer/influencer reader and omfg I love your brain. Like imagine the reader did a cover of/wrote like spit in my face by ThxSoMch or Cigarette Ahegao by Penelope Scott (love her sm btw-) cause just imagine the GUILTTT

Imagine the Batfam listening to their music and just hearing the bitterness in their voice as they sing “Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong, In my defence I wasn’t supposed to be around this long, so” HGDECANZZKNFBVD

Anyway, I love your writing and I hope you have an absolutely amazing week! Take care of yourself too- drink water, eat some food and try to get some sleep ml <3

Nah anon you're cool. I love reading asks. ALSO credits to Luludelulusramblings, they made the originally made Influencer reader. Batfam belongs to DC as usual. Singer reader post: here

You know, in the Art History year 1901-1904, Picasso started the Blue Period where he only painted in the shades of Blue. It started due to the death of his friend, later his financial struggles, and of course the current state of the society. Blue Period art was so good but so doleful and depressing that no one wants to hang it in their house. Singer! Reader started their career covering mainstream songs, band songs, maybe even vocaloid. 

Their blue period started months before they planned to leave the manor. It was a simple cover of MARINA’s ‘Are you satisfied?’ A lot of burnt out overachievers ate that cover, even Tim himself. The song is basically the reader questioning the Wayne last name. Sure it was a goldmine to others but to them it’s a ticket to misery. One song cover turned into many song covers, enough to make a long playlist to play at 3 a.m. when you’re about to have a breakdown. 

The whole playlist? Batfam avoids it because it reminds them of the times they could have been giving you love but they didn’t BUT at the same time they can’t really avoid it. It became like those guilty pleasures playlist. Damian loves and hates reader’s ‘The Family Jewels’ cover because it reminds him of the fact that he and the reader are basically on the same boat. They were just children who needed attention and love. He got that attention and love immediately because of the whole league of assassins backstory. He won’t admit it but the weight of the role weighs like tonnes of iron on his shoulders. 

Jason, Bruce and Cigarette Ahegao will roll together so much. That man has twice the amount of trauma Bruce had and his coping mechanism sucks. All the aggressiveness was just a coping mechanism, underneath he’s a man with conflicted feelings and those years of being dead and suddenly being resurrected didn’t help. Let’s face it Bruce is a tired man who lives a double life. He's a man who dresses up like as a bat making sure the city is safe but he can't cover all grounds. The neglect on reader was unintentional but neglect is neglect.

Dick with reader’s cover of ‘Stressed out’ by Twenty one pilots, no explanation needed. ‘This is me trying’ by Taylor Swift with Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim. Cassandra and Stephanie being raised by villains and Tim being an overachiever to have his parent’s attention. His parents being always away and realizing he basically did the same thing to the reader by making them feel invisible. 

Double guilt if they left the playlist on autoplay and ‘Daddy issues’ plays. Any version but I think the original fits the bill. Reader ends their blue period with a cover of Mother Mother’s ‘Burning Pile’ basically saying ‘Yeah fuck it, it’s over. I’m burning it, I’m leaving it, I’m closing the chapter’. But to the Batfamily, it meant renewal and turning a new leaf, an invitation to make things better.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Makeover

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot, if you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You sat cross-legged on Max's couch, rolling your eyes as he argued over the fit of his latest pair of skinny jeans. The conversation had veered from his undying loyalty to his closet staples to your mounting frustration with his predictable wardrobe.

“Max, I’m serious,” you said, leaning forward and poking his arm for emphasis. “I love you, but if I see those jeans one more time, I’m going to burn them.”

Max’s eyes widened with mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Try me.”

A dramatic sigh escaped him, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ll do it—but only because it’ll make you happy.”

The next day, you dragged Max into every fashion store Monaco had to offer. The montage that followed was a whirlwind of laughter and exasperation. Max tried on everything from sleek tailored trousers to bomber jackets in bold colors. You snapped pictures as he struck over-the-top model poses, nearly tipping over a rack of shirts in the process. When he emerged from the dressing room in a sharp suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Well?” he asked, giving a half-smile as he adjusted the collar. The deep blue of the jacket brought out his eyes in a way his Red Bull gear never had.

You grinned. “Perfect. You’re officially a fashion icon now.”

Max rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed a little. “I’m still not giving up my T-shirts,” he warned.

“We’ll see about that,” you teased.

Race day arrived, and the paddock buzzed with anticipation. Max stepped out of the car looking nothing like his usual self. Gone were the skinny jeans and snug team shirts. In their place was a confident figure in perfectly tailored clothing, drawing glances from fans and drivers alike.

“Wow, Verstappen, look at you!” Charles said, clapping him on the back.

“You’re making the rest of us look like slobs,” Lando added with a laugh.

Max smiled politely, but you noticed the way his shoulders tensed, the glint of unease in his eyes. He played along, accepting compliments with a nod and an awkward smile. Something gnawed at you as you watched him move through the crowd with a different air—confident, yes, but not quite... him.

As the day wore on, the realization hit you: this wasn’t your Maxie, the one who rolled out of bed with messy hair and a scowl until his first cup of coffee. The guy standing there was polished, put-together, and fit in seamlessly with the elite crowd, but he was missing something—the spark of authenticity that made him Max.

That evening, you found him sitting on the edge of the track, legs dangling and gaze lost in the distance.

“Hey,” you called softly, sitting beside him.

He glanced at you, the corners of his mouth lifting, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did I do okay today?”

“You were great,” you admitted. “But… I miss your skinny jeans.”

Max let out a chuckle, the sound filling the quiet space. “You?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re you. And I miss my Maxie.”

He turned to look at you, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face. “You know, I only wore all this to make you happy.”

Your heart tightened, and you reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Max, you should never change who you are for anyone—not even me.”

“Thank God,” he said with a playful sigh of relief. “Because I was already planning on going back to my old clothes tomorrow.”

You laughed, the tension melting away, and before you knew it, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was soft, familiar, and full of all the things unsaid.

When he pulled back, he whispered, “Guess we’re stuck with the skinny jeans, huh?”

You smiled, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And in that moment, everything felt right again.

[euphorix-moon]

Love Maze

Vi x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Helping Vi realize that she can break out of this loop that's she's in

Warning: Slightly Angsty and slightly out of character

A/n: Arcane season 2 just came out and i'm still reeling from everything, just had to make this cause i was inspired by episode 3 it broke my CaitVi heart

It was just one of those days,

There weren't many days where you would get the house all to yourself to enjoy so you didn't waste the chance to relax when your roommate said she was going out to run some errands.

You were currently enjoying your day re-reading through your favorite book series until you were disturbed by a sudden knock at the door.

You skeptical and slightly annoyed you went to go answer the door. Opening the door is when you came face to face with the pink-haired woman you came to know as Vi. She almost looked slightly surprised to see you at the door but kept her composure

"Is she here ? " Vi asked worriedly

"Hi nice to see you too, but unfortunately your girlfriend isn't here, she went out to do some stuff" you replied

She lightly sighs before saying, "Well if that's the case then I guess I'll wait for her till she gets back. That's fine with you, right ?" She says walking through the door before you can get a response out. You sigh closing the door behind you knowing she would stay and wait either way.

There was an awkward silence between the two of you guys so you took it upon yourself to try and get a conversation going.

"So....what brings you here ?..Is it the same issue again ?"

Vi glares at you but after some time does lightly nods her head to confirm your suspicions. You kept quiet lightly sighing to yourself.

The cycle had become almost predictable at this point: a fight would ignite, Caitlyn would storm off ghosting Vi, and then, a few days later, Vi would return, offering half-hearted apologies that seemed to smooth things over just enough to delay the inevitable crash. Caitlyn never seemed to learn, and neither did Vi. But the truth was, they both were just playing the same tired game, and you wanted all this nonsense to come to an end once and for all.

Here,” you said, slipping behind the counter to make a couple of drinks. “Let’s take the edge off. I’m sure you could use something stronger than water right now.”

Vi didn't argue. She sank down onto the couch, taking a deep breath, clearly exhausted from everything. As you handed her the glass, you kept your tone light, almost casual. "So, how's work? How’s your family? Anything to distract you from… well, everything?"

She gave a weak laugh, taking a sip of her drink. "Work’s fine. Same as usual. Nothing exciting," she muttered, looking down at her hands, clearly distracted. "Family’s... okay. You know how it is, always got something goin on"

You nodded, pretending to listen, but your mind was already working. "Yeah, I get that. But seriously, when’s the last time you actually did something for you, Vi? Like, something that made you feel alive? Not just for Cait, or for your job, but for yourself?"

That was a hook. Vi wasn’t even aware of it. She leaned forward, a little too eager to talk about herself, to talk about anything that didn’t involve the draining mess she was in. She starts going into detail about the many things she's been interested in but never got the chance to due to feeling like she's alway has to balance a thousand things in her life.

"Well if I'm gonna be real honest with you Violet, it sounds like this relationship is just another thing holding you back" you say with sincerity.

"It’s just... it’s not that simple, okay? Violet shot back.

me and her have history. We’ve been through a lot together. And—" she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "Yeah, things have been tough lately. But we love each other. I know she has her issues, but I really think we can fix this. I don’t want to just... give up on everything we’ve built."

You almost rolled your eyes at the word history—as if that was supposed to make everything else okay.

"Vi," ."You’ve been ‘fixing’ things for months now. You keep telling yourself it’s just a phase, that Cait’s going to change, that things will get better. But they never do. You are stuck in a loop and you can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong."

"So, what? You want me to just leave her? After everything? You’re not even trying to help me,You’re supposed to be my friend. You should be supporting me in making this work, not... pushing me away from her!"Vi’s jaw clenched, her chest rising and falling with each breath as if she was holding back.

Her words stung just a little bit but you knew how to respond back. "I am doing this because i care enough to tell you the truth Vi, you deserve so much better than this. Don't let Caitlyn stress you out so much, especially when there's already a lot on your plate".

"You just don't get it. You don’t know what she's like when we’re together,” she says, still feeling obligated to defend her relationship.

"Maybe i don't and i might be wrong about all of this, but all I'm saying is that if you were my girlfriend id be the one coming to apologize and id try to find every possible way to make it up to you." You say leaning closer towards Vi

She sputters trying to find the words to defend herself, every single word unfortunately dying in her throat.

"I’d be the one begging you for another chance after acting like a dumbass. I'd spoil you and not let you do anything till you forgave me" You continued.

The silence that fell between you and Vi after your last words was thick with unspoken things. Vi feels as if her heart is beating out her chest as you continue to close the distance between the two of you guys.

"You do deserve better, Vi," you said, your voice soft but certain. "And when you’re ready, I’ll be here for you. Not just as your friend, but... more than that, if you want. You don’t need Cait to feel loved. I’m not going anywhere."

Vi looked at you, her eyes wide, and in that moment, it was like everything clicked for her

You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to show her that everything she needed wasn’t in Cait. That there was more for her. That she didn’t have to settle.

Just as you leaned forward, your lips barely inches from hers, the door to the room creaked open, and the sudden sound of keys jingling at the front door broke the fragile bubble that had formed between the two of you.

You two quickly back away from each other, moving to the opposite sides of the couch, averting eyes as Caitlyn walks into the room

A/n: Sorry for the cliffhanger and sorry to all the caitvi shippers, i love them too...i just can't pretend that i wouldn't want vi if they broke up fr.

[the5thelement]

Literally have had zero energy since March 😭

Speaking of, I went to my follow up with my primary the other day, they said my labs were okay. I asked about going to a rheumatologist and he said they take a year to get in and really only deal with auto immune disease… ( uhh I fucking donated blood and woke up the next day and for 9 months have been a god damn fucking zombie with crazy tachycardia, if that doesn’t seem like some kind of auto immune reaction i don’t know what does.) I asked him so they would do anything different to test or rule anything out than we’re doing here. He said let’s follow up with the cardiologist and do that follow up sleep study and you already have the follow up with the endocrinologist and you need a new obgyn. I said yeah sure but are you diagnosing me with pots then? He said no i wouldn’t diagnose you with that now. I said okay so are we going to do more tests to diagnose it or rule it out? because I can’t live like this and not know what is the reason. Then I explained that you just told me my kidney functions were fine but sometimes when I urinate I’ll feel a pulsing or squeezing feeling in my lower back. He asked me about pain and I said I can’t express enough how I was in such severe pain for most of my life that after my surgery I don’t really register anything now as painful. I said I can’t say it’s painful because it’s not bad compared to what I just casually lived with everyday for 20years but I feel something there that’s not typically there. He said well even if you had kidney stones you wouldn’t feel pain until it passes into the ureters… then never fucking was like maybe we can get ultrasound to make sure there are no stones.

I texted one of my sisters that night and explained what happened. She’s my #1 support when it comes to anything medical. As I’m texting with her I’m on the verge of crying because I’m so frustrated and then she calls. So I take a breath and answer the phone but couldn’t get the words out. She was like helloooo and I managed to squeak out the word hi, clearly upset. Her voice immediately cracks also saying oh Katelyn I’m so sorry. Which made me just full blown cry at this point. She called so she could explain what she just had to go through at her daughters doctors and forcing them to run extra tests. So she told me to get a copy of every single one of my medical reports and when I go visit her we’ll go through everything and find me a functional medicine doctor which of course fucking insurance doesn’t cover but they usually will actually find out what the fuck is wrong and causing issues and not just treat random symptoms as they happen. My whole life I’ve push my doctors to do anything for me, I literally walked in to my ob and diagnosed myself when I was 27. The start of the year I was in the best shape of my life mentality, physically, emotionally, and so hopeful and excited to live my life again, then I donated blood and this happened. I just don’t have the fight in me anymore to do it all by myself. I didn’t realize how much I was desperate for that support and guidance until she offered it. I’ve never asked anyone for help like this before, I didn’t have to ask her and just knowing she’ll help me figure this out gives me hope again. She’s been supportive of me this whole time but in smaller ways like checking in and finding research articles. I’ve never really broken down about it to anyone. As soon as she heard my voice crack saying hi she immediately said we’re doing this together now, you give me all of your charts and I’ll go through them, if you need me on the phone at all your future appointments I’ll do that no matter what. We’ll figure this out together. I really wish she lived as close as my other siblings but even across the country she’s always been the most supportive of me and I am beyond grateful to have a sister like her. 🥹

i am supposed to have the energy… to do stuff...?

[eerna]

can you explain your art techniques a little bit further? I just saw your post about arcane helping you drop line art and stuff, and I wanted to understand better (as someone trying to get into digital art)

Sureee, ty for asking! :)

For the first 7 years of my digital art journey I imitated the comicbook-style art tutorials and techniques artists I liked used. This means that I would start out with a sketch, draw the lineart on another layer on top of the sketch, hide the sketch, use solid blocks of color on separate layers for the coloring, and add lighting effects on top of it all. I was never really happy with how it turned out, and I often felt like I shouldn't have gone past the colored sketch phase because the full render would lose so much life. I used pretty much the same brushes I use now, aside from some textured ones, but not to their full potential because they were painting brushes being used for flat shading. Here's a few examples of fully rendered stuff from 2020-2021:

Then, I realized I do NOT have to do things I don't wanna do, and I can totally remove any steps from the process that I wish! I experimented for a while until I settled on a new thing that worked for me. And so my current process is: draw a sketch, color it all on one layer (base colors), add light effects if needed, add another layer on top of everything, and paint until satisfied with the level of rendering. Then I add optional effects, such as fires or patterns. This means I leave the sketch layer visible, so I have to clean it and base colors with erasers as I work, but it enables me to preserve the sketchy energy. The "all rendering on one layer" approach frees my hand and I don't feel pressure to render everything separately and perfectly, which in turn, ironically, makes my art look more detailed because the eye compensates for unfinished bits. In addition, the line between a colored sketch and a fully rendered piece is much thinner, which means I don't have to commit to completing anything, and that is a big deal for an insecure person prone to artblocks. If I lose interest halfway through the lineart-and-blocks-of-color process, I am left with an unusable piece. If I do it halfway through the painting process, I get a charming, messy piece a la my recent Chappell Roan art (I left the armor unfinished, and yet it doesn't clash with the rest of the art). Here's a recreation I did to show what a big difference the different approach makes:

So why didn't I stop doing lineart sooner? I did try, but my attempts tried to replicate what I did when painting traditionally, instead of adjusting to my digital abilities, so it usually looked whack. I remember showing my friends the Rito Village piece back in 2019, which was painted based on a screenshot from the game, and one of them telling me "Don't go back to lineart!" I was like "YEAH I am NOT going back to lineart!!! I will keep painting!!!" Only to realize that painting landscapes with already stylized references and painting portraits were completely different. Here's a painting portrait from one of those trial and error attempts. Later I realized the mistake was working on TOP of the sketch, as I would have done for traditional work, instead of both below AND on top of it - after all, my intention was to preserve the life of the sketch, which was impossible when I couldn't even see it. I also didn't understand color values (or honestly, any color aspects) very well, resulting in some low-contrast, unappealing blobs.

So yeah, my advice to any beginner digital artist is: experiment and figure out what works for you. Think about what makes you happy when creating, and build your process around it. Also, keep researching art theory and applying it to your work. Good luck to you and all other digital artists~

[rulerofstars]

the unlikely schemer

oneshot: after breaking up with kuroo, you and your cat, kevin, are stuck in an awkward co-parenting arrangement. but with kevin’s matchmaking skills and some help from friends, old feelings start to resurface. will your tangled past and kevin’s scheming bring you back together, or is it too late for second chances?

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x reader

tags: fluff, exes-to-lovers, co-parenting

i. the cat custody misunderstanding

You’re just tying your shoes, running late as usual, when your phone pings. The text is short, so typical Tetsu.

“Is Kevin with you?”

It takes a minute to sink in. You’d just assumed Kevin was at Kuroo’s place today—it was his turn, after all. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen as if you’re about to reply, then think better of it. You know exactly where this is going, so you text Kenma instead. He’s usually somewhere between Kuroo and sanity in situations like this.

“Hey, tell Kuroo to check his laundry basket. Kevin always curls up there.”

Minutes later, Kuroo sends a photo of an empty laundry basket with a sarcastic caption: “Look at this. So Kevin. Very here.”

So, it’s going to be one of those days.

By the time you reach Kenma’s apartment, you’re not surprised to find him gaming quietly in the living room, headphones half-off and tapping away at a console, with Kuroo leaning against the counter, arms crossed. He raises an eyebrow at you, which you promptly ignore, focusing on Kenma, who’s practically part of your support network at this point.

“Kuroo lost Kevin. Apparently, he’s ‘everywhere but nowhere,’” you explain with a mock eyeroll, making quotation marks in the air.

Kenma barely looks up from his game. “Pretty sure I saw Kevin’s cat carrier in your car last time we hung out.”

You freeze, suddenly remembering. In a rush to get back to work yesterday, you’d left the carrier in your back seat. Kuroo notices the realization flicker across your face and lets out a sigh, shaking his head in that trademark half-exasperated, half-amused way that used to drive you crazy.

“So,” he says, voice low and full of dry amusement, “you’re the one texting me about losing the cat when you had him all along?”

You cross your arms defensively. “In my defense, I assumed he was curled up in some basket in your laundry room. It’s his thing, you know?”

Kenma finally looks up, glancing from you to Kuroo. “Maybe you guys should put a tracker on him.”

“Right? It would save us a lot of hassle,” you say with a chuckle, nudging Kuroo’s shoulder. “Or, we could always get two cats. Double the trouble, double the mess for both of us.”

Kuroo smirks, and his gaze lingers a little too long on you before he finally looks away, back to the counter. “Yeah, we’re barely managing one cat. Two? I think I’d lose my mind.” He pauses, then adds with a slight edge to his tone, “Though, at least if I lost him, I’d know it.”

The silence hangs a little too long. You know that Kuroo hasn’t really moved past how things ended between you both, and neither have you. But here’s Kenma, already back on his console, looking pointedly unaffected by the tension in the room, which, of course, is his way of telling you two to work things out—without actually saying it.

“Well,” you sigh, determined to keep things light, “guess it’s settled. I’ll take Kevin today, and you can have him next week. Just—keep him out of your laundry basket.”

Kuroo’s lips twitch, caught between a grin and a frown. “Yeah, maybe you should check your car twice next time.”

A few days after the “Kevin custody confusion,” you find yourself at a small gathering hosted by the Karasuno volleyball team—Hinata’s idea of a “relaxing team bonding” that somehow ended up including you, Kenma, and, inevitably, Kuroo.

The evening is full of the usual chaos. Tanaka and Nishinoya are arguing over whose spike hit harder in the last practice, Yamaguchi’s laughing, and Tsukishima’s making sarcastic quips from the corner, clearly trying (and failing) to look uninterested. Amid the friendly noise, you notice Kuroo leaning against the kitchen counter, idly stirring a drink, his gaze following the playful banter with a faint smile.

You try to ignore the little jolt that hits you. It’s unfair, really, how seeing him in a setting like this—a few stray hairs falling out of place, that casual but slightly competitive air—still makes your heart stutter.

Kuroo catches your eye and smirks, jerking his head toward Hinata and the others. “They’re treating this like the Olympics, you know.”

You roll your eyes, feigning indifference. “Some people just have team spirit, Kuroo. Not everyone’s as calm and broody as you.”

Before he can reply, Hinata bounds over, practically glowing with excitement. “Hey, you two should join our game! It’s totally volleyball-related—sort of. It’s, uh…a spike accuracy contest, but with plastic cups!” He gestures to a pyramid of plastic cups stacked against one wall, courtesy of Nishinoya and his “training ideas.”

Kuroo raises a brow, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “I don’t know, do you think you can handle it?”

“Please. I was beating you in these games back in high school,” you scoff, hoping the heat creeping into your cheeks isn’t obvious. This was supposed to be fun, a way to forget for a few hours. But here you are, trading familiar jabs with Kuroo, half-suspecting he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

“Alright then,” he grins, a competitive spark lighting up in his eyes. “Loser buys the winner’s next cat food haul?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes as you square off. “Deal.”

You’re both lining up for a turn when Kenma appears at your side, his voice a low murmur. “You know, you could just talk to each other. Without the middle school competition part.”

You shoot him a playful glare. “Don’t act like you’re not rooting for me.”

He shrugs. “Just saying. Even Kevin’s tired of the back-and-forth.”

Before you can respond, Kuroo lands his “spike,” sending cups tumbling dramatically across the floor. He raises his hands in triumph, throwing you a smug glance. It takes all your self-control not to stick your tongue out.

“Guess that means you owe me,” he says, voice low, as the noise of everyone laughing and cheering fades into the background.

You take your turn, successfully knocking over even more cups, and smirk right back. “Guess again. Your treat.”

The words are casual, but there’s something in the way his gaze lingers, something questioning and almost vulnerable. For a brief second, it’s like you’re back in high school, sharing inside jokes and trading glances that say so much without saying a word. And just as quickly as the moment comes, it’s gone, replaced by the clamor of the team celebrating your win.

Kuroo doesn’t push it; he just steps back, smile dimming a little but still there, an unspoken challenge lingering in his eyes.

ii. kevin’s plan

Kevin, it seemed, had developed a mischievous knack for engineering his own little reunions, and he was subtle, a master of feline subtlety. For starters, he had a way of "escaping" whenever he sensed you were home. One minute you'd find him snuggled up on the windowsill, eyes half-closed, as if he'd happily stay put for hours. But the instant he saw you putting down your bag, Kevin would dart to the door, yowling at the handle in a way that you knew meant, I'm not just done with Tetsuro today. And you knew—this was a game. Kevin wanted out, because that meant one thing: Tetsu needed to come pick him up.

"Hey, Kenma?" You called Kenma up one evening after a particularly trying cat-chase. You could practically hear the amusement through the phone as he listened to your woes.

"So he climbed into Tetsuro's basket…again?" Kenma's quiet laugh was the only real noise on his end, and even though he sympathized, he found the whole thing hilariously on-brand for Kevin. "Are you going to call him again, or…?"

You groaned, resting your head against the cool surface of the window as you watched Kevin curl up and blink at you innocently. "Apparently, I'm not the one with a choice."

Kenma’s voice softened. “Maybe it’s for the best, you know?”

“Kevin meddling is ‘for the best’?” You grumbled, throwing Kevin a look. "He's a cat, Kenma. I swear he’s got a playbook or something."

Kenma laughed, “Well, you could ask Kuroo to stay for dinner next time. He’d probably be less willing to ‘rescue’ Kevin if he got to see you in a normal setting for once.” There was a beat. “I just think he misses you. A lot, actually."

As you listened to him, you thought about what he’d said—about seeing Tetsuro in a setting that didn’t feel so strained or impersonal. You couldn’t deny it sounded…nice. There were moments when the banter softened, moments that reminded you of how easy everything had once felt. It was different now, of course, but maybe Kenma was right.

That weekend, you decided to take a chance.

Kevin, true to his antics, found his way into Tetsuro’s room yet again. But this time, when Tetsuro came over with the usual look of bemusement and mild exasperation, you were ready.

“Dinner’s on the stove if you want to stay," you said, sounding more casual than you felt. "It’d save Kevin from his…habit.”

For a moment, Tetsuro looked stunned, almost as if you’d suggested something outlandish. But then, a familiar, quiet smile broke across his face as he nodded, the unspoken warmth of old memories settling in between you. And for a while, it was like nothing had ever really changed at all.

As Tetsuro took off his jacket and washed his hands, you felt the unspoken tension hang thick in the air. He was careful not to look at you too closely, like he was afraid of pushing something fragile that he hadn’t quite realized he wanted to hold onto again. Kevin, meanwhile, weaved around your ankles, giving you what could only be described as a smug look before he trotted over to Tetsuro, meowing with an air of absolute satisfaction.

“So,” he started, voice light but a little uncertain as he settled at the table. “Kevin’s getting pretty good at this whole escape thing, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, gesturing toward the little troublemaker. “He’s like an escape artist at this point. Or…a schemer.”

Tetsuro smirked, glancing down at Kevin, who was rubbing his face against Tetsuro’s leg with an innocent expression. “He gets it from his favorite co-parent.”

“Oh, so it’s me now? Not you?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you spooned some soup into his bowl. “You were the one who taught him to open doors, remember?”

“Hey, I taught him how to close them, too,” Tetsuro replied, trying not to laugh. “He just…ignores that part. Selective memory.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s got selective memory alright. Probably picked that up from someone, too.”

Tetsuro’s smile faded a little, and for a second, he looked like he was about to say something serious. But then, with a rueful little shrug, he muttered, “Touché.” His gaze lingered on Kevin, who had now curled up comfortably in the spot right between the two of you, purring contentedly as if his mission had been a complete success.

For a few quiet minutes, you both ate, sharing the familiar silence that used to be filled with so much unsaid affection. Even now, there was something comforting about it, like the past was a blanket thrown over the room, warming you both without permission.

“So…have you thought any more about…?” He trailed off, his voice unexpectedly softer.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew what he was getting at: the breakup. The distance. The plans you’d made separately that had edged each other out.

“I have,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “And…I think I’m realizing some of it didn’t have to go that way.” Your eyes met his, and for once, neither of you looked away. “I guess I just wanted to feel like I could do things on my own. And I thought…” You trailed off, taking a breath. “I thought you’d understand if I needed time, but maybe I didn’t need so much time away.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze shifting from you to the empty space between you, that chasm that had grown in the months apart. “I get it. I think we both felt like we had to prove something, but in doing that, we…kinda lost what we already had.”

The words hung there, and Kevin, in the timeless way of cats, chose that moment to yawn dramatically, pushing his face closer to yours with a nudge that felt suspiciously well-timed. You could feel the little nudge of his head against your knee, almost like he was trying to physically push the two of you closer together.

“He’s persistent,” Tetsuro murmured, amusement warming his voice. “Like he won’t stop until…well, he gets what he wants.”

You laughed, scratching Kevin behind the ears. “Sounds like a certain someone I know,” you replied, nudging Tetsuro’s foot under the table with your own.

The casual touch, the gentle press of your ankle against his, was so small yet felt monumental in that quiet moment. Neither of you pulled away, and for the first time in months, the space between you felt smaller.

“Maybe…” Tetsuro started, voice uncertain. He glanced at Kevin, who seemed completely at peace, oblivious to the storm of feelings he’d orchestrated. “Maybe we could…try again? Start with small things, I mean. Like, um—Kevin dates?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected and genuine. “Kevin dates? Seriously?”

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hey, he’s a big fan of them, clearly. And we wouldn’t want to break his heart, right?”

You met his gaze, something familiar flickering in the warmth of his smile. It was the same look that had been there in high school when he’d confess he’d waited outside in the freezing cold just to walk you home. The same look that told you maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth holding onto.

“Alright,” you murmured, voice soft but firm. “Kevin dates it is.”

And as Kevin let out a satisfied little meow, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe he’d had the right idea all along.

Weeks had passed since that night in the kitchen, and things between you and Tetsuro had gradually shifted back into a comfortable rhythm, like slipping into an old pair of shoes. The cracks of time, once jagged and deep, had started to fill in with laughter, shared moments, and the kind of quiet affection that only came from familiarity.

Kevin, of course, continued to play the role of orchestrator, his paw prints everywhere—on the pillows, on the couch, and especially on the small, shared space between you and Tetsuro that no one could quite explain.

It was a Sunday afternoon when you found yourself at Tetsuro’s apartment, leaning against the couch, watching him and Kevin "interact" in the most absurd way possible. Kevin had somehow managed to get himself tangled in Tetsuro’s headphones, and the two of them were locked in a standoff: Kevin, half-playful and half-aggressive, tugging at the cords, and Tetsuro, trying his best to untangle the mess with the patience of a saint.

“I swear, this cat is too smart for his own good,” Tetsuro muttered, glancing up at you, clearly exasperated.

You chuckled, biting your lip to hold back a grin. “What did I tell you? He’s a schemer. You’re just his latest target.”

Tetsuro let out a breath of frustration, shaking his head as he finally freed the cat from the headphones. But Kevin only looked at him with that smug, knowing gaze that said, I’ve won.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Tetsuro grumbled, but there was no real bite to it. “I can’t believe I’m co-parenting with someone who has no shame.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Someone? Are you sure you’re not referring to yourself?”

He shot you a teasing look, but there was something different now—something more vulnerable behind the playful facade. “You know, I don’t mind this. The whole co-parenting thing. And I think…” His voice softened as he picked Kevin up gently, cradling the cat in his arms. “I think I like the idea of us being in each other’s lives again. Even if it’s just for Kevin’s sake.”

A silence settled between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy, the kind of quiet that came from knowing each other for far longer than you’d care to admit. You sat down beside him, your fingers brushing against his lightly, just enough to feel the spark. Kevin, now settled in his lap, gave a low, contented purr.

“Well,” you started, voice gentle, “Kevin’s a pretty great reason to keep showing up. I guess we’ll just have to stick together for him. And, you know… maybe for us, too.”

Tetsuro met your gaze, his dark eyes warm. He didn’t say anything right away, but the look he gave you was enough. It was full of understanding, of patience—of someone who had learned the value of quiet moments and the unspoken things that meant more than grand gestures.

Kevin, once again, seemed to know just when to intervene, hopping from Tetsuro’s lap and nudging his way toward you, as if to say, This is how it’s supposed to be. You couldn’t help but smile as you reached out to scratch behind his ears, and Tetsuro, catching the moment, did the same.

In that little, seemingly insignificant moment—Kevin purring contentedly between the two of you—you realized the truth of it: Maybe we didn’t need grand gestures to fix what was broken. Maybe, we just needed to be here.

And as Tetsuro leaned back, letting the warmth of the afternoon sun spill through the windows, you felt the smallest but most important shift—the promise that, this time, you wouldn’t have to let go. Not again.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way—small moments, messy, imperfect, but full of love all the same. And maybe, just maybe, Kevin was the real genius for knowing it all along.

[7s3ven]

Police au! Simon Riley x morgue worker! Reader

Police officer! Simon Riley who needs the state of a dead body to write in his report. He’s used to seeing the usual morgue worker, a tall man with shortly cropped hair and a scar jutting over his lip. What he isn’t used to seeing is you, a woman much shorter than him, with blue gloves on and poking a body like you’re bored.

He faintly remembers being told there would be a new worker in the morgue but he always assumed it would be another man. He isn’t frowning upon it, though, he respects women in male dominated fields. Even if said field involves looking at dead bodies all day.

“Hey, Officer Riley, right?” You notice him first out of the corner of your eye. You smile, “This your guy?”

“Yeah. Found him on the ground. Was already dead by then. Think he jumped.” Simon replies in a thick British accent as he slowly takes a step forward.

“Okay, well, he’s an interesting case. He’s got acid burns on the sides of his arms. They can’t be older than a week. There’s really not much to take from it… considering his body is all over the place from the impact. He was stabbed pretty brutally so my guess is he was dead before hitting the ground. So, we can rule out suicide. I’d say it was homicide and someone tossed the body over the edge of a building. Doesn’t explain the acid burns, though.”

“Torture perhaps?” Simon suggests.

“Possible. It’s been hard to ID him because his fingerprints were burned off and his face isn’t in the best shape. Might take a while, that alright with you?

Simon nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good. I’ll come back after my shift…” He trailed off, realizing he had yet to know your name.

“Y/N.” You clarify, “Y/N L/N. I know you guys do the last name thing around here but you know, usually handsome cops call me by my first name.”

Simon suppressed a grin but you wouldn’t be able to see it behind his mask anyway. “Right. I’ll be back, Y/N. How long do you usually take to ID guys like this?”

You shrug. “A few hours at most. I’m very good at my job, Officer Riley. You can expect an update in two hours.”

“You seem very confident.” Simon raises an eyebrow, “What if you don’t find anything new in two hours?”

“That’s not possible. I succeed where most people fail.”

Simon simply hummed, digging around in his pocket until he pulled out a tab of thick paper. “Here’s my card. When you have an update, give me a call.”

“Giving me your number already, Officer?” You take the card, flashing him a teasing smile as you hold it up.

“Usually I find a body and carve out their heart as a romantic gesture but we’re expecting a shortage of bodies today. So my number will have to suffice.” Most people wouldn’t get his joke due to his serious tone but you laughed, slipping his card into your pocket.

“Okay, Officer. I hope you know I’m counting on that heart.”

“Can’t promise that but I can make it up by buying you a drink.”

“I like expensive wine.”

“All women with taste do. I’ll pick you up after my shift.”

And that’s exactly how Simon Riley walked out of the morgue with a date.

[himbosandhardwear]

“Figures,” he mumbles. And it does, Steve Harrington being a literal demon. Handsome, rich, charming, beloved by everyone? Yeah. And they think Eddie is the monster.

Steve chuckles. “What's wrong, Munson? Hoping for something a little more cartoonish? Horns and a tail?”

“You could be hiding horns in all that goofy hair,” he quips, because why not? The world has proven to be extremely unfair but no one will ever take being an asshole from Eddie Munson.

A happy grin splits Steve's handsome face, making him Hollywood Walk-of-Fame hot, instead of his usual boy-next-door hot. So fucking unfair. They do say Lucifer was the most beautiful angel.

“You're not scared of me,” Steve observes.

He thinks about it. There’s a part of Eddie that's surprised the stupid ritual worked, another part annoyed that the demon known as Steve Harrington was the one to answer his call, still another part kind of excited to be verbally sparring with a supernatural creature, but scared? Nah.

“I once saw you chug six cartons of lunch milk on a dare.” He looks Steve up and down. “Come to think of it, what was a demon doing in high school anyway?”

He leans casually up against the kitchen counter. “We all have to start somewhere.”

That's interesting. “So you're born…like a human?”

His eyes flash red again, a cat-like eyeshine. “Not human. No.” He claps, the crack of it actually startles Eddie. “Enough about me. Let's talk about you. What could the infamous Eddie Munson want with a pet demon? It's a little on the nose, don't you think? You, summoning demons.”

He shrugs. “I was bored.”

Steve slinks forward, cat-like again. “No. You shed blood for me, Eddie.” He takes Eddie's hand in his, cradles it, brings it up to their eyeline. As though Eddie forgot he'd sliced his palm open. It still throbs where the skin split. He doesn't care about that, he only cares that Steve's skin is warm, soft, dry. Normal.

“This is serious magic, you know? I don't just show up like this for anybody.” He curls Eddie's fingers, balling his fist up gently. “So? What'll it be?”

The answer is logged in his throat, impossible to loosen. He would've answered to any other demon. But not Steve Harrington. He'll die before he admits this weakness.

“C'mon man, my mom taped Dynasty for me, I was really enjoying it before you called. Let me do your little song and dance so I can get back home and finish my story.”

That's an image. “Your mom a demon too?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “She's on the board of our HOA. What do you think?”

“That's a yes. Did she have to dock your tail as a baby? Like a Rottweiler puppy?”

“Eddie,” Steve leans in, close enough that Eddie can see the way the red shines right through the honey brown in his eyes, “what do you want?”

“Nothing. You can go.”

He studies Eddie, unwilling to take him at his word apparently. “No. Tell me. Is it concert tickets? A motorcycle? Your diploma maybe?”

Eddie closes his eyes so Steve doesn't see the stupid tears building up. What an unbelievable asshole. He knew that, even before the whole demon thing, but really, that was a low blow.

Steve realizes it too. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Being mean is sort of in my nature. Not a good excuse but it's true.”

The apology sounds sincere, which is weird enough to get Eddie to peek at him. He finds Steve has backed up, hands in his pockets, looking sufficiently contrite.

“It's…fine. Seriously though, you're free to leave. I don't think you can help me.”

He's studying Eddie again, like he'll find some clue on Eddie's Motörhead shirt or his ratty flannel pants.

“You want me to kill someone?”

That startles a laugh out of him. “Would you? If I asked?”

“Depends on who it is,” he says, completely serious.

“Principal Higgins,” Eddie tests him.

Unfortunately, Steve sees right through that. “That would be fun but that's not why you called me.”

“So what? I said you're free to go, why are you so obsessed with this?”

“Well, Mr Doesn't Read the Fine Print, I'm not free to go. You see, this,” he's in Eddie’s space again in an instant, tugging on Eddie's injured hand, “this means you've bound me to you until the parameters of the deal have been met. So either you tell me what you want or you wake up at seven am tomorrow to follow me to open Scoops Ahoy.”

Eddie blinks. “You work at Scoops Ahoy?”

“Yes.” He stares back. “What? I had to get a summer job.”

“But you're a demon.”

“So? You think if I could magic up whatever I wanted for myself I would be living here? Serving ice cream to nine year olds while wearing a polyester sailor suit?”

Holy shit, I bet he has to wear the shorts and everything, Eddie thinks.

“We're getting off track.” He jiggles Eddie's arm. “Just tell me, dude. If you think it's bad, you should've heard the shit I did for Tommy H. Sadistic little shit still doesn't understand everything I did for him.”

“Fine. Get me a motorcycle.”

That earns him another grin. “Nope. Try again. You had intent when you called me. That matters. It has to be fulfilled or we're stuck together. And I can tell you now, you do not want to be stuck with me. I'm not always this pleasant.”

Eddie can't, won't, say it. It's the most vulnerable thing he's ever asked the universe for, and he's not admitting it to the former captain of the basketball team.

“I'm sure it'll wear off after a while.”

“Wear off- You- Oh my god, humans shouldn't be allowed to do magic.” He rubs at his temples.

Peripherally, Eddie is aware that Steve has really nice arms, but that's not relevant.

“I'll have to torture the information out of you, you realize that, right?”

Intriguing. “What sort of torture?”

Steve stares. “You know, it's you saying shit like that why people think you're a freak.”

Eddie shrugs.

“Okay. Fine. It'll start with nightmares. Then I'll curse all your food to taste like ash. Next comes the flies, hundreds of them. Then the dead birds, then-”

Ugh. What a clichè. He marches over to the couch and flings himself down. “Whatever, dude. Do your worst.” He grabs the remote and turns the TV on. It's getting late, most of the channels are off the air, but that doesn't stop him from surfing. He can feel Steve staring. Eddie hopes his mouth is hanging open in offense. He doesn't want to look, it'll ruin the effect.

“Fine. Fine!” He stomps over and throws himself down in Wayne's chair.

And that's the story of how Eddie got a pet demon. The binding doesn't end up being all that difficult to work around, they just have to see each other once a day. Eddie likes to visit Scoops and bother him and Robin. They end up forming a tight little unit. Steve doesn't seem all that bothered to be tied to Eddie and, strangest of all, after months of all their close contact, something more grows.

It's not until one morning, waking up in Eddie's arms to find the binding gone, that Steve realizes what Eddie had wanted that night.

He never does admit it. Says he's still waiting on his motorcycle.

Demon Eddie this, Demon Eddie that…take a minute to picture Demon STEVE

Theres so much fun to be had with that. Maybe that’s how he got to the top, favours and exchanges

People come to him with requests and they don’t know how, but he always gets it done.

And then they owe him.

It becomes a thing for him to jokingly go “you owe me!” With a big smile, but they literally do. And he always cashes in, but usually just for small things he wants in the moment. Like a spare cigarette or a drink at a party.

And hey! Maybe Eddie DOES try to summon demons…

And one night, after he’s playing dress up as a satanist, he finally manages to summon one successfully.

Not that he knows that, all he knows is that Steve Harrington is knocking on his door all of a sudden.

Stupid puffy hair and goofy grin staring at him while he leans in.

“You called?”

And Eddie looks towards the phone slowly and back to Steve. Because no, no he didn’t.

He’s too tired and high to even pretend to be polite, just shutting the door in his face before leaning against it with a deep sigh.

But when he opens his eyes, Steve is stood there. In his trailer. As if Eddie didn’t just block his only way in and- okay, yeah. His eyes are fucking red.

He probably shouldn’t have used that book.

[diamonddaze01]

[3:27 AM]

Pairing: lc x reader | wc: 1.1k au: criminal minds au | warnings: mentions of people getting hurt a/n: based on an ask from my 101 drabble prompt game! // surprise i have decided to turn this into a drabble series bc i love criminal minds and i love lee chan so it’s only natural

The insistent knocking at your door at 3 AM could only mean one thing: Lee Chan was about to ruin your night. Again.

You groaned, the harsh thumping reverberating through your bones. It was past 3 AM, and you had a flight to catch in a few hours for another high-risk case. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on your chest. You had been barely catching a few hours of sleep in between case files, strategy meetings, and debriefings. But of course, Chan—your insufferable, impossible rival at the BAU—had to make an appearance now, ruining whatever tiny shred of rest you could scrape together.

You briefly debated ignoring it—he’d leave if you waited long enough, right? But the knocking only grew louder, more demanding, until it felt like the walls themselves were shaking with the force of it. With a frustrated sigh, you shoved the blanket aside, letting the cold air of the apartment hit your skin as you dragged yourself out of bed. The room smelled faintly of coffee and stale paperwork, the remnants of a long day.

“God, I swear to God, if it’s another case…” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your tired eyes.

You swung the door open, barely suppressing the irritation that bubbled up in your chest. The sight of him, standing there in a BAU hoodie, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes, made your blood boil instantly. His hoodie smelled like his usual cologne mixed with the scent of a rushed flight—a mix of sweat and caffeine—and you realized, with a sinking feeling, he hadn’t even bothered to look presentable.

“What the hell, Chan?” you snapped, your words a little sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. The exhaustion was wearing on your nerves.

He blinked, his wide eyes—normally so full of cocky arrogance—filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Worry? Guilt? His usual bravado was nowhere to be found.

“I... I needed to make sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice unusually low.

You blinked at him, confused, still half asleep. “What?”

His gaze flickered away for a moment, and you noticed the way his hand fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie. A nervous habit, something you’d never seen him do. "I had a nightmare,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.

“A nightmare?” Your brow furrowed. "And you thought waking me up at 3 AM was the best solution?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself, his eyes shadowed by something darker than the fatigue you both shared. "It wasn’t just any nightmare." His voice cracked slightly, and for a second, you weren’t sure if he was going to continue.

But then he did, his gaze never leaving yours. “It was about you.”

You felt a chill run down your spine, despite the heat of the apartment. You tried to brush it off, but it was too late. His words lingered in the air, thick and heavy.

“Me?” you repeated, incredulous. "You had a nightmare... about me?"

Chan nodded once, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets as if he was trying to hide from something you couldn’t quite understand. The cocky, competitive Chan you knew so well—the one who always put you in second place on every case, who made you fight tooth and nail to keep up with him—was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“Yeah. It felt... real,” he muttered, his gaze flickering away. “We were chasing that unsub last week in that warehouse, and you—you got hurt.” He paused, the words choking him slightly, and for the first time, you saw that the normally unflappable Chan had something real on his mind. “I couldn’t get to you in time. I couldn’t protect you.”

You froze. The air between you felt suddenly thick, charged with an emotion neither of you had ever voiced out loud. He was standing there, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, and you—well, you weren’t sure how to respond. You opened your mouth to say something sharp, something biting, but nothing came out. Instead, you found yourself staring at him, not sure where to place the sudden tenderness you felt creeping up.

“Chan, this is insane.” You crossed your arms, though the action felt more like a defense than anything else. You couldn’t quite make sense of the situation. “We’re agents. We know the risks. This is what we signed up for.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But you’re not just anyone. You’ve had my back when no one else would. You think I’m just supposed to act like I don’t care?”

His eyes met yours, something raw and unspoken passing between the two of you. The usual banter, the sharp edge of competition, had dissolved into something... softer. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all seemed, but you couldn’t. You felt your heart thud, unexpectedly heavy in your chest. You had spent years trying to keep things between the two of you cold, professional—just another rivalry between agents vying for the same promotions, for the same cases. But this? This felt different.

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” you said, trying to sound like you normally did. But the words came out more strained than you intended. "I’m fine, Chan. I’ll always be fine."

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back away like you expected. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze steady, unyielding. His presence in your apartment felt almost suffocating now, like the tension between you was finally breaking, like something had shifted—and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to.

“I don’t want to be just your rival anymore,” he muttered. “Not with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t know how to process that. You wanted to argue, to shove him away and pretend nothing had changed. But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

“Well,” you began, the words coming out slowly, unsure, “I don’t need you to baby me.”

Chan’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I’m not trying to.” His voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper now. “I’m trying to say that I care.”

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, in the dim light of your apartment, staring at the man who had been your rival for so long. The cold air from the hallway had long since seeped inside, but you were no longer cold.

Finally, you let out a sigh, stepping back, breaking the tension, just a little. “Fine. But only because you're annoying.”

He chuckled, the sound softer than usual, more genuine. “I’ll take it.”

You watched him stand there for a moment, before the gravity of it all hit you. Lee Chan—the arrogant, cocky agent who always outshone you in the field—had just shown up at your door at 3 AM, not with a case file or a new lead, but with something deeper, something raw. And maybe, just maybe, it was time you stopped pretending it didn’t matter.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[httpvomitello]

Heeey, I rewatched Mean Girls (2004), I love that movie and I love Karen! Could we have the Rottmnt boys (separately) with a female reader who's just like Karen Smith? She's very cute and kind. The guys love the reader and have a crush on her, but they can’t believe someone could actually be like that and not just be pretending. Still, they love her and enjoy her company 😊

It's been so long since I watched Mean Girls, but I have to admit that Regina and Karen are the characters that left the biggest impression on the film. Karen is very funny, I even remember trying to copy her style a little 🥹. Anyways, i hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

So what? She's cute! *⁠.⁠✧

The first time Leo meets you, he thinks you’re playing some kind of long con

No one can be that sweet and that oblivious at the same time, right?

“You’re telling me you think turtles can control the weather?” he teases, waiting for you to admit it’s a joke.

When you just giggle and nod earnestly, he’s floored

At first, he tries to get you to slip up, but your kindness is so genuine it disarms him every time

He finds himself falling hard

You’re adorable, and your pure heart makes him want to protect you even more

“You’re like a walking ray of sunshine,” he admits one day, his usual smugness replaced with genuine fondness

Leo gets defensive if anyone dares to mock your quirks. “Hey, don’t mess with her. She’s perfect the way she is.”

Raph doesn’t know how to handle you at first

You’re so nice and bubbly, and he’s convinced it’s some sort of act

“Nobody’s that sweet all the time,” he mutters under his breath after you compliment his muscles for the tenth time

But the more he’s around you, the more he realizes it’s just who you are

You genuinely believe everything you say, even if it’s a little... out there

One day, you casually tell him he’s “too pretty to be worried all the time,” and he’s done for

Blushing mess.

He’s fiercely protective of you, even if he still teases you about your occasional airheaded moments

“You really believe in that ‘if you touch a frog, you’ll get warts’ thing?” he asks, half-laughing

When you nod seriously, Raph just shakes his head, smiling. “You’re somethin’ else, Y/N.”

Donnie is convinced you’re conducting some kind of elaborate social experiment

He can’t wrap his head around how someone can be so sweet and clueless at the same time

“You think I built a time machine?” he asks one day, raising an eyebrow

“Of course! You’re super smart,” you reply with a big smile, and Donnie short-circuits

He finds your belief in him endearing, even if it’s based on wildly inaccurate assumptions

Despite his initial skepticism, he starts to find your quirks charming

He even begins to explain things more patiently just to see your eyes light up in understanding

“You really are one of a kind,” he says softly one night, after you gush about how his ‘magic stick’ (bo-staff) could probably make him fly

He’s smitten and will defend your honor if anyone dares to imply you’re anything less than brilliant in your own way.

Mikey absolutely adores you from the start

Your kindness and bubbly personality match his energy perfectly

At first, he thinks maybe you’re just exaggerating your naivety for laughs. “Wait, you really think cats can talk if you listen closely enough?”

When you nod seriously, his heart melts

He loves how you genuinely see the good in everything and everyone

It makes him feel special when you praise him, even if it’s for silly things like his “super ninja flips.”

Mikey starts calling you his “little cloud” because you’re so light and carefree

He gets a kick out of your more out-there ideas and will even play along just to see you smile

“Yeah, babe, I totally think rainbows are secret portals too!”

If anyone tries to make fun of you, Mikey’s the first to jump to your defense. “Hey, back off! Y/N’s got more heart than any of you losers!”

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

would you write a poly!plastics x reader where instead of Regina, Gretchen for once takes charge and gets mad at Reader. Another girl tries to flirt with us and it gets Gretchen riled up. At first Regina is surprised by Gretchen’s attitude since she usually lets Regina handle these things, but then joins Gretchen in her scolding. Karen is just like ‘wait? Am I supposed to be angry now too?’

Who Knew she had this In Her?

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

|| Warnings; girl flirts with reader, Gretchen & plastics mad at reader, reader makes it up to them

|| Summary; when the plastics spot someone flirting with reader, Gretchen goes off. Reader makes up for it with a date.

Requests closed!

Started; November 15th

Finished; November 15th

~~~

"What the hell?!" You flinched as you suddenly heard what sounded like... Gretchen yelling at you? Gretchen? You turned your head towards her to make sure you heard that right. Yeah. You'd pissed off Gretchen Wieners. Of all People.

Fast forward to about five minutes before, a girl from your English class had caught up to you in the hallway. Her name was like Sarah or something, you didn't really know her that well. But she apparently knew you. Her cheeks were bright red as she approached you, fidgeting with her fingers and you could tell where this was going. Great. Your girlfriends were walking towards you from the other end of the hall, too. And you could practically feel Regina's eyes burning into your back.

"Hey, Y/N." The girl, who you thought was named Sarah, spoke up and gave you a smile. "I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get a coffee sometime?" You sighed when the question left her mouth, a hand rested to your hips. Gaze risking a flick to your girlfriends who were even closer now.

"I can't-" Before the sentence even left your mouth you heard Gretchen. Her voice sounding like a shaky shout.

"What the hell?!" It took you a moment to realize the girl had started playing with your hair. Being extra flirty to try and convince you. You didn't have the time to push her away before Gretchen rounded on you. Grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the nearest bathroom. Her nails digging into your skin.

"What was that?" Gretchen's arms folded across her chest, determined eyes seeking answers. Regina and Karen walked into the bathroom, both looking a little startled by Gretchen's outburst. Who knew she had this in her?

"I was turning her down-" You tried to defend yourself, but Gretchen hardly heard over her own roaring thoughts. She scoffed and folded her arms across her chest.

"You let her touch you!" Gretchen shouted, Karen looked at Regina. Who also looked quite annoyed about the whole thing.

"Wait? Am I supposed to be angry now too?" Karen asked, getting your attention. You turned your head to the girl with a grimace. You really didn't want all your girls to be mad at you.

Regina looked ready to start lecturing too, so you quickly spoke up. "Okay, okay I'm sorry. Really. I wasn't flirting, I don't even know the girl's name. I think it's Sarah?" That seemed to make your girls relax. You were clueless about the girl. That was a good sign in their books.

"It's Julia," Gretchen rolled her eyes, correcting you. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Oh. Anyway... how about a date tonight? On me?" You looked at all of them. Karen's eyes lit up and she clapped.

"Yes please!!" Karen smiled, clearly being happy with that idea.

"Fine." Regina muttered while Gretchen just nodded. Trying to regulate her emotions.

"Good." You relaxed when they all agreed. Tonight would be on you. It's a damn good thing you had a job.

After school, you and the girls decided to go on a trip to the mall and then dinner after. The three lead you through the maze that was NorthShore's mall. You gave them a price limit, because you didn't have a whole lot. But you were willing to get each of them something that they wanted.

It didn't take too long for them to find what they wanted. The plastics knew the mall like the back of their hands. Having gone thousands of times. The part that took long however, was the window shopping they did afterwards. And the amount of stores they decided they just had to check out. You followed after. Just letting them lead you.

By the time you guys finally left the mall, it was nearing 7pm. Which meant you'd been in there almost four hours. Jesus. The girls had gotten a few extra trinkets with their own money, even you ended up buying yourself a little something. All of you headed to Regina's jeep. Putting the stuff in the car before getting in. You sitting up front next to the blonde. Who looked pretty satisfied with everything she got today. Conversations flowed with ease as Regina drove you all to the dinner place. It wasn't the fanciest thing in the world, but it was good. The food even better. As dinner went on, it seemed to you like the situation from earlier today was mostly forgotten. You let yourself relax and enjoy the meal. Finally putting those worries aside.

[famoussharkhairdoknight]

A Chance Encounter~Jude Bellingham

The sun reflected on the wet streets of Madrid, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. You were waiting your turn in a small café, lost in your thoughts, when you heard a deep, familiar voice behind you.

“Excuse me, is the line always this long?”

You turned around and saw him: Jude Bellingham, with his disarming smile and curious gaze. At first, you thought you were imagining things, but he was really looking at you.

“Well… yeah, it usually is,” you replied, trying to mask your nervousness.

Jude chuckled, a warm and contagious sound. “Well, I guess that’s a good sign. Any chance you can recommend something? I’m new here.”

Your heart began to race. “It depends… Do you like something sweet or more of a classic coffee?”

“Sweet,” he said with a grin, “but not too much. Got the perfect suggestion?”

You pointed to the menu, explaining the best options. When it was his turn, Jude ordered exactly what you recommended. Then, to your surprise, he turned back to you.

“Want to sit with me? It’d be boring drinking alone.”

You weren’t sure if he was joking, but you agreed. The two of you sat at a small table by the window, and from that moment, time seemed to fly. You talked about everything: his experiences in Madrid, your dreams, the little coincidences of life. Jude kept looking at you like you were the most interesting person in the room.

“It’s rare to find someone I can talk to like this,” he admitted at one point. “You know, football can make you feel a bit isolated. But with you, it’s… different.”

You felt your cheeks flush. “Maybe it’s because I don’t only talk about football.”

He laughed. “Yeah, and that’s what I like about it.”

Hours passed, and when it was finally time to leave, Jude seemed reluctant to let you go.

“Before you leave… would you like to meet again? Maybe not at a café next time.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Sure, why not?”

Jude smiled, pulling out his phone to exchange numbers. “Perfect. This has been the best part of my day. And I hope it’s just the beginning.”

In that moment, you realized that maybe, in the chaotic city of Madrid, fate had decided to gift you something special.

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