#like you could make the argument for Some of it. but then its like. almost intentionally leaving out actual themes/motifs for the character

[amirasainz]

heyy,

Could i please request an F1 grid x driver reader where its a really hot race and the reader is struggling to keep racing put keeps pushing forward to finish it, and ends up completely exhausted and collapsing, and all the drivers start being really protective towards the reader and act like mother hens

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

The Heat of Qatar

The Qatari Grand Prix was brutal. The desert heat seemed to radiate through every layer of the circuit, and the night race provided little relief. Despite the floodlights, the air felt heavy, humid, and unrelenting. For Y/N, just 18 years old and in her first season with Red Bull Racing, this was her toughest challenge yet. A bright young talent with nerves of steel, she’d handled every twist and turn of the track that day like a pro. But by the time she pulled into parc fermé, her body was at its limit.

As she climbed out of her RB, her legs trembled. She grabbed onto the side of the car for balance but barely had time to steady herself before her vision blurred. The cheers of the crowd and the hum of engines faded into the background as her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the asphalt.

---

“Y/N!” Charles sharp voice was the first to cut through the chaos. He was out of his Ferrari in seconds, sprinting toward her as she crumpled.

Carlos, who had been taking a swig of water, dropped his bottle and ran to help. “Y/N! Are you okay?!” His voice was tinged with panic.

Max jumped out of his car, cursing under his breath. “Bloody hell, what happened?” His piercing blue eyes scanned her pale, sweat-drenched face as he crouched beside her.

By now, nearly all the drivers had abandoned their debriefs to surround her. Lando and Oscar exchanged worried glances, already flagging down the medics, while Lewis and George pushed through the cluster to make sure she had space to breathe.

“Move, give her air!” Lewis ordered, his voice firm but calm.

---

The medics arrived quickly, but the drivers were relentless in their concern. “We’ll handle this,” Carlos said, almost shooing one of the medics away. “We’ve got it.”

Charles was already cradling Y/N’s head, his hand gently brushing her damp hair away from her face. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’re going to be fine,” he murmured, his voice soft as he tried to soothe her unconscious form.

Lando crouched beside them, looking at the medics. “What do we do? Is it dehydration? Heatstroke? What’s going on?”

Oscar, his normally calm demeanor cracking, added, “Should we get her more water? Electrolytes? Do you have an IV?”

“Let them work,” Max snapped, but his tone lacked its usual sharpness. He was kneeling next to Y/N, holding a water bottle and unscrewing the cap. “When she wakes up, she’s drinking this. No arguments.”

---

They carried her carefully to the medical center, with Carlos holding her legs and Charles supporting her upper body. Lewis draped his cooling towel over her forehead, muttering, “This will help with the heat.”

Once inside, the doctors began their evaluation, but the drivers were relentless. They hovered like a pack of mother hens, ignoring all instructions to leave.

“Honestly, we’re making sure she’s okay,” Carlos argued when one of the medics suggested they step outside. He was kneeling by her side, dabbing her neck with a fresh cold towel. “She’s part of this family.”

Max handed the water bottle to Y/N, who was slowly regaining consciousness. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked at the concerned faces surrounding her.

“Max?” she croaked, her throat dry.

“Drink this,” he instructed, his tone softer than usual. He held the bottle up to her lips and coaxed her into taking small sips. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Charles exhaled a sigh of relief, his hand still in her hair. “You’re okay. Just rest. We’ve got you.”

“Y/N, don’t ever do that again,” Carlos said, his voice trembling slightly. He patted her shoulder and then her neck again with the towel, as if unable to stop himself.

Lewis, who had been standing back, approached with a blanket. “She’s sweating too much—her body might go into shock.” He draped the blanket over her with care, ensuring it didn’t overwhelm her.

“I feel… dizzy,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

Oscar, visibly distressed, turned to one of the medics. “What else can we do? What’s the protocol for this?”

“You’re doing everything right,” the medic assured him. “She needs fluids, rest, and time.”

---

The drivers took that to heart. Lando knelt down beside her, his brow furrowed. “Y/N, just focus on breathing, okay? Deep breaths. You’re tough. You’ve got this.”

Oscar added, “You’re the strongest person we know. This is just a bad moment.”

“Yeah,” Max interjected, trying to lighten the mood. “If you can survive working with Christian, you can survive this.”

That earned a faint smile from Y/N, which sent a wave of relief through the group.

Charles continued stroking her hair, his touch gentle. “If you need anything—anything at all—we’re here.”

Carlos, who hadn’t left her side, was now holding her hand. “You’ve been incredible today. The heat got to all of us. Don’t blame yourself.”

Lewis adjusted the blanket slightly. “Your body’s just telling you it needs a break. Listen to it.”

Y/N’s voice was barely audible, but she managed a quiet, “Thank you… all of you.”

---

They stayed with her for hours, refusing to leave until they were certain she was stable. Eventually, Christian Horner and the team staff arrived, but even then, the drivers lingered, their protectiveness unwavering.

As they filed out one by one, Max leaned down and whispered, “Next time, don’t push yourself this hard, okay snoepje? We need you out there—alive.”

Charles, the last to leave, pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Rest, Y/N. You’ve earned it.”

Though exhausted, Y/N felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sweltering Qatari night. Her family on the grid had her back, no matter what.

[our-hextech-dream]

i haven't seen anyone fully articulate what i personally felt disappointed by wrt viktor's s2 persona and ending so i guess i have to do it myself even tho i'm bad at talking!! can someone who is better at this just read my mind and say it fancier and more coherently?

agency, the loss of

i have seen people already mention the way disability came into play at the end and what a wild choice it was for jayce - born able-bodied and healthy - to be the one to tell viktor - trapped in a body that was actively killing him - that actually your disability is a part of you and made you who you are and you owe everything to it. ... huh? jayce (by which i mean the writers), do you think without his disability, viktor wouldn't have still been a genius? yes, viktor is disabled - that's not even remotely what makes him a compelling character and power player. it is his mind not his body that makes him who he is. the fact that he had to waste almost his whole life fighting against that body to achieve anything is the entire crux of his frustration - imagine what he could have dedicated his mind to if he weren't constantly struggling to find a way just to survive another year, another month, another week, one more day. have you thought about it? because he has. so yeah that whole conversation, trash. bruno mars just the way you are ass one direction that's what makes you beautiful ass argument. viktor was not going crazy over cosmetic surgery, he was trying not to die.

but it strikes me as just one more expression of an overarching theme for s2 viktor - that of the complete and total loss of his agency. (more on a meta level than in the show itself, but also in the show!) i said after act 1 that viktor had died in that explosion and jayce was going to be chasing that corpse until the end, and i was correct. viktor bounced from one mindset to another, never seeming to have any consistent ideology of his own that couldn't be changed as soon as the plot demanded it. at any given point he was just kinda... wandering around, doing some random shit with the powers that worked through him. gone was the viktor who used his own hands and mind to influence the world directly, to bend it to his will. i always always felt this and i stand by it - taking viktor's abilities as an inventor and scientist away and turning him into some arcane mage jesus figure was a mistake and a disservice to his character. arcane said no this boy wasn't smart or determined, his ability to build and invent and seek and learn don't matter and never mattered, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and as soon as the arcane got its goop on him he just became the most specialest magic pixie dream boy to ever live and his own goals, dreams, ideals, morals, talents, skills, and hard work ceased to matter in any meaningful way. he never had to work to master magic to be able to use it to further his goals, because he immediately stopped having goals.

viktor became a non-character. he became whatever ideological and technological threat level the show needed to challenge to heroes and never more. he ceased to have any control or understanding over what was happening to him, rather he just gave up and decided to use his magic indiscriminately for whoever made the most convincing argument, a choice that would have been completely antithetical to his character up to that point if he'd still been alive. 'fuck zaunites, sure i'll turn them into robots so a foreign power can use them to attack and take over piltover and zaun, who cares. it's not like these are the people i've spent 30 years of my life trying to protect and save.' <- something viktor would never ever ever have agreed to! ever! no matter what! they have played us for absolute fools.

ambiguity, the loss of

the thing i wanted the most and was expecting because of the way viktor's original lore was set up was that the series would end with viktor and jayce unreconciled and with mutually exclusive worldviews, both fully believing they were right and the other was misguided but not evil or irredeemable, setting them up for future conflict. this felt like what was being set up when arcane made it a plot point that jayce was being convinced to turn hextech into weapons while viktor started getting unethical and unhinged with the experimentation. they both had good reasons to do what they did - and i'm absolutely not going to insult jayce's intelligence by claiming he was just manipulated into it by anyone, give me a fucking break - but the point was that both of them were doing something the other thought was misguided and dangerous. and they also felt that if they could just make the other person see their completely logical and rational pov, they could fix the divide between them and make up and be best science buddies again.

but then at the end arcane completely gave up on viktor having any belief in his own ideals. it just turned into 'aw actually he was just lonely all along and none of that science stuff or difference in morals or worldviews mattered bc he's got a buddy now and he's completely unequivocally on jayce's side. :)'

it was like. insanely selfish. as in, self-centered, concerned *only* with the self. the viktor i liked, and the one i wanted to flourish and hoped arcane would canonize, was someone who was entirely dedicated to zaun, to righting the wrongs of piltover and helping the people in the way he thought best - no matter what jayce or piltover thought about it. an ambiguous villain, just like all the other really well-written ones in arcane.

accountability, the loss of

viktor killed people. not sky, who was an accident despite his fixation on her; i'm talking at least a hundred or more zaunites during his stint as the machine herald. he ripped their minds out and made them play house with him, then turned them into weapons of war for ambessa's siege, and all of those people - primarily sick, desperate zaunites - died. this was always the entire crux of the conflict between (league) viktor and jayce giopara. viktor was willing to destroy people and use their bodies for his own gain unapologetically because he thought what he was doing was a blessing and the people were better off under his control because they would never feel fear or anger again. agree, disagree, depends on your view of free will and human nature, but the fact is that everyone who came to viktor hoping for a chance to be healed so they could pursue their own dreams and lives had those dreams and lives ripped away from them and they never got justice or even a single scrap of acknowledgement from the narrative.

in arcane, the horror of viktor's actions just... fade away into the background. viktor and jayce waltz off into magicspace together, leaving viktor's dead, ruined victims for piltover and zaun to deal with. he doesn't return their minds or bodies, he doesn't even seem to remember or care about what he had just been doing to other sentient living human beings. he's not sorry, he doesn't feel regret, he got what he wanted (a friend) and fuck everybody else.

because the narrative just shrugs and handwaves and says no no forget all that it doesn't matter it was just the hexcore or whatever, viktor becomes a flat, uninteresting character. he loses the depth that villains like ambessa and silco had, villains who had their victims validated by the story, who faced challenges in their arcs specifically because of the people they had hurt despite thinking they were doing the right or noble or most important thing. and not just the villains! even the heroes had to wrestle with the people they stepped on on the way to their lofty goals. but not viktor. he just floats away scot free, completely blameless, having no affect on the world and the world having no affect on him.

on arcane's status as the new canon lore and the Implications™

reminder that arcane is somehow supposed to tie into the world of runeterra at large, but now viktor and jayce both have been seemingly entirely removed from it. if it only mattered that they knew the people we'd already seen them interact with, okay, i guess. but that isn't the case. they both have a ton of connections to other champions - from regions other than p&z even - that haven't been introduced and don't have any plausible explanation for how they could have met in the past, which means they should have been set up to meet somehow in the future. implying that jinx escaped and has gone traveling the world is the perfect way to incorporate her in-game relationships with people like lux - she could have met her while traveling! but jayce and viktor don't get that plausible continuation of their story and development of further relationships - they just disappear out of existence. (ambessa also has this problem because they killed her, but unlike jayce and viktor she does have a huge amount of unexplored backstory where she could have spoken to (for example) swain and hwei and shyvanna at some point.)

note 1 - jayce and viktor are so old that they don't have any voice lines in game when meeting other champions. but other champions who are either newer or who have had voiceover updates do talk to them, which is how (aside from the old lore) you can infer that they do have relationships with other champions including ones who weren't in arcane.

note 2 - maybe riot actually doesn't care and none of the champions are really supposed to know each other or be involved in each others' lives canonically, they just have random quippy voice lines that imply that. which would fucking suck. having the lore of the game have no impact on the game itself and vice versa would objectively suck. if the characters talk to each other on the rift and say something interesting, i want that to have meaning. i want to be able to extrapolate the state of the world and the relationships between the characters from the things they verbally say with their mouths. i'm not arguing about this. the voicelines should be seen as the most high irrefutable canon that there is for the game because it is the ONLY source of lore in the game itself.

anyways there's my bible i guess. i miss evil laser robot viktor i want him to perform unethical brain surgery on me (fixing my adhd but also turning me into his personal puppet attack dog) and then give a weapon to a child so they can kill their bullies.

[brookaboo]

not without you

kei tsukishima x reader

summary: Tsukishima and his girlfriend get into a petty argument, leading her to sleep on the couch. Despite his salty attitude, Tsukishima can’t stand the distance

The apartment was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the soft tick of the clock on the wall. Tsukishima sat on the couch, arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyes trained on his phone but not really seeing it. His mind replayed the argument from earlier—one of those petty disagreements that seemed to snowball for no reason at all.

You had said something about how he never listened to you, and he had snapped back, as always, with his usual sarcastic quip. It had escalated from there, the sharpness of his words cutting deeper than usual, both of you too stubborn to back down.

And now you were on the couch, lying on your side with your back to him, trying to make some kind of statement by not sharing the bed. The blanket you had pulled over yourself was twisted, not quite enough to keep you warm, but you weren't about to admit you were cold.

Tsukishima had been petty enough to let you sleep there. He wasn’t going to apologize, not right away. He’d let you cool off.

But the longer the silence stretched between the two of you, the more he felt that familiar, annoying tug at his chest. He hated being wrong, and he hated this distance between you even more.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, you're really being childish about this," he muttered under his breath.

He glanced at you again, the curve of your back almost mocking him in its stillness. The truth was, he hated being apart from you, even for something as dumb as this. He wasn’t going to admit it, though. Not out loud.

Time passed. Tsukishima tried to distract himself, but all he could think about was how weird it felt, how uncomfortable it was to not be close to you. The couch was too big, the space between you and him too wide.

He couldn't sleep without you.

After a few more minutes, he gritted his teeth and stood up. His usual smoothness was replaced with a slight awkwardness, the realization that he hated the tension more than the argument itself sinking in. He walked over to the couch, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling anything—his usual “I don’t care” attitude kicking in.

You stayed still, though, pretending to sleep, your breathing steady, betraying the way your mind raced.

Tsukishima smirked to himself. "Pretending to sleep, huh? Real mature."

He could feel the warmth of the room, the familiar scent of your shampoo mixing with the cool air around him. And, despite the petty fight, his heart couldn't ignore the pull. He crouched down and, with a soft grunt, carefully scooped you up from the couch.

You opened one eye, but he was already looking at you with that sharp, unamused expression.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked, trying to keep the bite out of your voice.

He didn't answer. He simply picked you up and walked toward the bedroom, carrying you as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Tsukishima," you muttered, a bit embarrassed now, even though you had been the one to act childish in the first place.

"Shut up," he replied gruffly, "I can't sleep without you either."

You let out a soft laugh, surprised that, despite his annoyance and sarcasm, he was still holding you like you meant everything to him.

When he finally reached the bed, he carefully laid you down, following you as you both settled beneath the covers. You moved closer, instinctively, and Tsukishima, too, slid closer, his arm wrapping around your waist. He sighed contentedly, the anger from earlier slipping away like water down a drain.

He wasn’t going to apologize, not in so many words, but in the way he rested his chin on your head, in the way he gently tugged you even closer.

"I don’t like sleeping without you," he muttered, his voice quieter now, softer.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the familiar rhythm of his breathing easing the tension that had been between you both. "I know," you whispered. "Me neither."

He didn’t answer, but his grip around you tightened, pulling you into the embrace. You both finally closed your eyes, the argument already forgotten, drifting off to sleep in the comfort of each other's arms

[augustameretrix]

you know what i kinda do like the "i'm the dirt under your fingernails" image on its own and had it been deployed in an overall clearer and cohesive script for caitvi in s2 i would have absolutely loved it

some dont like it because it implies vi is a mere stain on caits person, evoking her own experience in regards to the dehumanization zaunites are systemically subject to in order to prop up top siders. on the other hand ive seen other people who, like me, like the line say: "oh its not that. what it means is that not only is vi going to be there whenever cait will do the good but hard work ("blisters and bedrock") but that by always being there shes putting an onus on cait to show up and actually do it". and while i dont disagree with literally any of that, i also dont think that cancels out the first, more literal interpretation of the line, but i kinda like that?

because as sad as it is, vi has made service and self-deprecation her lifestyle - her circumstances may have beaten it into her, but she has fully accepted it and embodied it. moreover shes shown to be perfectly aware of the deep-seated power imbalances between piltover and zaun as well as how that affects her relationship to cait (s1 act 1 and s1 act 3; s2 act 1 respectively - how id LOVED to see a proper argument between them in s2 act 2 or 3 goddammit): since nothing on that front has been dealt with because of the convenient noxus invasion/glorious evolution double whammy which once again resulted in zaunites being used as cannon fodder in exchange for one (1) lousy seat at the city council vi has no reason to pretend like things aren't the way they've always been. the disparity - both in the city and in her and caits entaglement - is still there, and vi is saying "the inequality it's there and it's fine that it is there for now because you are going to fix it with me" (implying vi will never let cait pull the kind of shit she pulled in s2 act 2 again i wish they'd spelled... something! out).

so it is kinda both the meanings at the same time there: cait has a moral and political duty to get her hands dirty and the dirt is vi because as a child of zaun she is what cait works on and for. vi is caits reminder of what she shoots for, her other, better eye if you will. cait does what she does because she freely chooses to do it, and she has the power and resources to put to good use. vi's sense of duty on the other hand comes from her and her family's lived experience, and long before meeting cait (s1 act 1) she had decided to be the good use. now she gets to be it with cait, and it is absolutely grueling work. they both know it, that's why cait asks vi if she's still in it, and after a moment's consideration vi can't help but smile, and there's a bit of bitterness and a bit of almost content resignation in it. so cait, who came in looking for reassurance, now makes room for vi to snuggle under her chin: reassurance she got, but in that subsequent close-up, among all the things she could be possibly thinking, there might be - finally - the realization of what all of it has cost vi.

again i wished the caivi and class inequality storylines had been handled more and more carefully in s2, but even when it's not at its best there's lot to say about arcane...

[inanerial]

How many Kryn souls will be born in the Empire?

A riddle

Sometimes you're trying to write a character becoming obsessed with a calculation problem and you accidentally face-plant into being obsessed yourself. That being said, the fanfic in question is Temporal Shunt, so if you want to have a look, have fun!

The brain teaser in question is: How many children will be born outside the Dynasty with Kryn/Dynasty souls because of Essek's theft and where will these souls be born?

First of all, it's necessary to preface this strange brain teaser with the fact all my calculations here are based on some profoundly huge assumptions.

1) Presuming a child is born within range of either of the beacons stolen and taken to the Empire, there is a corresponding soul available in the beacon. This treats each beacon's souls as unlimited as far as this calculation is concerned. We have, as far as I can tell, no idea how many souls are in each of the beacons Essek stole, nor does he seem to know how many souls are in a beacon or if souls can cross between beacons through some sort of shared planar space. Ultimately, the floor of this calculation is 0, if somehow both beacons were empty.

2) A single beacon can cover the full area of Rexxentrum and/or Zadash in its radius. I cannot find records of their throw, but given that the Dynasty only has a few and they strive to have most consecuted souls within a beacon's radius, I think we can assume around a beacon per city?

3) The beacons cannot emit souls from inside the lead box & bag of holding.

4) Halfling and Human birthrates are approximately the same. Human birthrates in this period are approximately the current US birthrate (12 per 1,000 people per year). That assumption, I know is massive, because on the one hand, more agrarian society and D&D ye olde times. On the other hand, birth control potions?! I don't know how to handle all that, so I stuck to 12 per 1,000 and let the extra month's (11 months in the Exandrian year vs 12 in an Earth year) be the allowance for the more agrarian society.

Even given all these assumptions, these calculations end up being a massive shrug, because we don't have an actual date on which Essek gave the beacons. We have him saying it had been three years since the "start of the conspiracy" (see "Dark Waters" (2x98) at 16:58), but I would argue that context clues indicate that's when they started corresponding, not when Essek handed over the beacons. That means Essek really could have handed over the beacons at almost any point between Thunsheer 833 PD (3 years before when he says that, in Thunsheer 836 PD). For the sake of all of our sanity, I have set bounds of Thunsheer 834 PD as the earliest time Essek might have handed over the beacons (1 year of correspondence) and Thunsheer 835 PD (2 years of correspondence) as the latest time. The early bound is based on the idea that it would likely take a reasonable amount of time for the Assembly to convince him to commit massive treason. The later bound is a marker of pure convenience for me.

That gives us the rough time span of:

Now, given that gnarly chunk of assumptions, we have another mystery to tackle. Where was the Assembly keeping the beacons? For lack of a better argument (though feel free to make one, if you're feeling so inspired) I'm going to assume the Nein's beacon/Zadash Beacon is in Zadash from the time it is stolen up until it comes into the Nein's possession. The other beacon is even more uncertain. We know it was in Felderwin for some span of time, so I've made the executive decision to assume it was in Rexxentrum briefly, then Felderwin for most of the time, then back to Rexxentrum shortly before Yeza's shop was ruined. I am also assuming the Nein discovered the ruin of Yeza's shop within a week or two of the attack.

Let's make it even crazier! When I went into this calculation fugue state, I was particularly interested in whether or not the Nein spread souls all over the Empire at large, the Clovis Concord, and beyond as they went on their pre-Dynasty adventures and took the beacon out to get Fragments of Possibility. I therefore made the assumption that getting a fragment takes around 1 minute, although as you will see, the exact timeframe, short of hours, does not really matter. I also assume that except for when Caleb just like... took a nap with the beacon in Zadash, they replaced the beacon in the lead box and their bag as soon as they received the fragment.

That gives us, thanks to CritRoleStats and Critical Role Linkable Transcripts for beacon viewing timestamps and Explorer's Guide to Wildemount for the city populations:

So, for poor Essek's conscience, that's somewhere between 0-168 children in Felderwin, 0-1,119 children in Rexxentrum, and 0-1,362 children in Zadash. Of course, families may move, so there's no guarantee those children will still be in each of those places when they experience anamnesis, but according to my incredibly slushy math, there will likely be a Nogvurut Situation in around 13 years in Felderwin, Rexxentrum, and Zadash.

Well, that's all I've got. The assumptions are messy, the calculations are rough, and the results are uncertain, but hey, when you're given such a fun riddle... how can you not?

[lattuce]

shoutout to media with only one female character that’s just a vessel for a sexual assault and/or pregnancy plot line with very little or no characterization beyond that

[morganpdf]

genuinely dont like being a hater (especially not publically) bc i hate creating conflict but also do u ever see. like. a fanwork of sorts. and its obvious that op has no idea anything about the character outside of "they are [x identity] and so i assign them [specific archetype based on that identity and not on the actual character]"

[sysig]

My kingdom for a "So you say” (Patreon)

[zemnarihah]

hm. my dad is now aware that i have slept over at eriks when i visit him.

[prapuna]

.

[mortalityplays]

This is a dangerous sentiment for me to express, as an editor who spends most of my working life telling writers to knock it off with the 45-word sentences and the adverbs and tortured metaphors, but I do think we're living through a period of weird pragmatic puritanism in mainstream literary taste.

e.g. I keep seeing people talk about 'purple prose' when they actually mean 'the writer uses vivid and/or metaphorical descriptive language'. I've seen people who present themselves as educators offer some of the best genre writing in western canon as examples of 'purple prose' because it engages strategically in prose-poetry to evoke mood and I guess that's sheer decadence when you could instead say "it was dark and scary outside". But that's not what purple prose means. Purple means the construction of the prose itself gets in the way of conveying meaning. mid-00s horse RPers know what I'm talking about. Cerulean orbs flash'd fire as they turn'd 'pon rollforth land, yonder horizonways. <= if I had to read this when I was 12, you don't get to call Ray Bradbury's prose 'purple'.

I griped on here recently about the prepossession with fictional characters in fictional narratives behaving 'rationally' and 'realistically' as if the sole purpose of a made-up story is to convince you it could have happened. No wonder the epistolary form is having a tumblr renaissance. One million billion arguments and thought experiments about The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas that almost all evade the point of the story: that you can't wriggle out of it. The narrator is telling you how it was, is and will be, and you must confront the dissonances it evokes and digest your discomfort. 'Realistic' begins on the author's terms, that's what gives them the power to reach into your brain and fiddle about until sparks happen. You kind of have to trust the process a little bit.

This ultra-orthodox attitude to writing shares a lot of common ground with the tight, tight commodification of art in online spaces. And I mean commodification in the truest sense - the reconstruction of the thing to maximise its capacity to interface with markets. Form and function are overwhelmingly privileged over cloudy ideas like meaning, intent and possibility, because you can apply a sliding value scale to the material aspects of a work. But you can't charge extra for 'more challenging conceptual response to the milieu' in a commission drive. So that shit becomes vestigial. It isn't valued, it isn't taught, so eventually it isn't sought out. At best it's mystified as part of a given writer/artist's 'talent', but either way it grows incumbent on the individual to care enough about that kind of skill to cultivate it.

And it's risky, because unmeasurables come with the possibility of rejection or failure. Drop in too many allegorical descriptions of the rose garden and someone will decide your prose is 'purple' and unserious. A lot of online audiences seem to be terrified of being considered pretentious in their tastes. That creates a real unwillingness to step out into discursive spaces where you 🫵 are expected to develop and explore a personal relationship with each element of a work. No guard rails, no right answers. Word of god is shit to us out here. But fear of getting that kind of analysis wrong makes people hove to work that slavishly explains itself on every page. And I'm left wondering, what's the point of art that leads every single participant to the same conclusion? See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. Down the rollforth land, yonder horizonways. I just want to read more weird stuff.

[lymtw]

Thinking of an argument with Toji that leaves you mute by choice towards him. He still talks to you and asks you questions, and while you don't turn away from him, you don't respond to him either. He ends up having to figure out whatever he needs on his own because after a minute or so you huff and walk away from the conversation.

"Mama," he calls from the bedroom, rummaging through his clothing drawers. "Have you seen my gym shorts?"

If he was able to get a word out of you, he would know that you washed them for him. Though you were still sizzling with anger towards him, you pulled them out of the dryer and walked them over to the room. He could hear your little footsteps as you approached the room, and when he turned to look at you, he noticed you were holding his shorts in your hand.

Your eyes were vacant towards him. You didn't want them to be because it sucks when you can't look at him with the endless amount of love you have in store for him. It's still there, but it's being masked by a poker face.

You toss the shorts onto the bed and leave. Toji sighs, irked by the fact that it's actually starting to sting now. Your disregard for him because you're ruled by your emotions and he lets things go too easily because he can't hold a grudge towards you, even if he feels you're in the wrong.

Toji never knew how much he depended on your voice until you wouldn't let him hear it. He depends on you to tell him where things are because without you they would be scattered all over the place. He doesn't know your method of organization, but somehow when he needs something and looks to you in order to find it, you pull it out from right under his nose. He depends on you to tell him he's doing a good job, and to tell him you love him, and just reassure him in general. It makes him feel good to know that someone thinks he's good enough, but recently the one person who feeds him affection like it's as important as food and water, has left him to starve. You haven't said a word to him in almost two days, and he feels like he's starting to go crazy. The sound of his own voice is driving him insane. It's gotten so bad that he had to make a mental note of how he's going to get you back that same night.

Toji leaves for the gym and texts you during his time there. He includes some images because it's now an unspoken rule that he always has to send you gym pics.

[ Attachment: 3 Images]

... 😳🤐

Yeah, I know you like those. I'll be home soon.

You take the time to doll yourself up while he's still out. It's for him, but you won't tell him that until you come back from your "night out". Really, you're just gonna go get dinner for both of you from his favorite little restaurant. You just want to see how far he's willing to let this go, because you're caving. You're ready to apologize even when you know he's not upset at all. You're ready to spoil him in order to make up for those severe feelings you held towards him. You're ready to hear about how stubborn and unbelievable you are for this little act you pulled.

You spray on some perfume and walk out of the bathroom, just in time to catch Toji walking through the door.

"Woof, where're you going, ma?" He asks, setting down his gym bag before absorbing everything you were gracing him with. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the very bare skin of the legs that come out from under your skirt. He can smell your perfume from where he stands, its elegant scent masking even the smell of his own potent sweat.

You didn't answer his question, and left him to wonder why you're all dressed up at seven o'clock at night. Was it a girl's night or were you openly showing him that you have options? Did he miss a message or a call from you?

You grabbed your wallet and scooted past him. You walked halfway down the corridor of your apartment building before realizing that maybe this was a bit much. You would make him worry over you going on a five minute walk to grab some food? All so you can show him you're mad? You cracked.

🥟🥡🍜.

Toji was staring at his screen, waiting for anything from you. The screen flashes like some sort of miracle and your message is seen by him. He chuckles, feeling a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of your little emoticons.

You came back home as fast as possible, bags of food in hand as you patiently waited for the elevator to bring you up to your floor. You took your time walking through the corridor, this time, not knowing how you would react once you saw Toji or if you would immediately say something to him. You're ready to talk to him, you want to talk to him. You miss him, you love him, and you hate the passiveness you threw yourself into around him as an act of retaliation.

There you were, standing in front of the door, nervous beyond belief for what was behind it. You collected yourself and twisted the doorknob, ready to face anything that came to you.

Toji stood from the couch and walked over to you to take the bags from your hands. The smell of his body wash wafted into your nose. There was an imaginary white flag hanging out of your pocket, and it was about to fall out to signal your surrender to Toji.

He pecks your cheek and watches in real time as color floods into your face. It's one of the most adorable things he's ever seen—you standing there so rigidly afterwards. He gives you a soft smile and resists the urge to coo at you for being so cute. Instead, he heads to the table to put the bags of food down.

You shut the door, and within a split second, Toji was in front of you again. "Ma," he says, sounding a little more desperate than he thought he would. "Say something." You stand there like a statue—unmoving, but unlike a statue, you are easily moveable. Especially, by Toji. "Anything, mama, please." He crouches down at your feet, his warm hands resting on the backs of your knees and his cheek resting on one of your thighs. This position made it look like you were being worshipped by him, and anyone who ever saw him do this would know that it was true, because he worshipped everything about you. From the top of your head, to the ground your feet stood on.

"Don't you miss having my hands on you?" They glide up and down the backs of your thighs. He looks up at your stunned expression. You won't look down at him, so he gets to see the way you swallow the words dying to leave your mouth, and the slight widening of your eyes as he lets his hands roam your lower body. "I know I do. I've been in hell these past couple days." He presses a soft kiss to your knee, then one more on your thigh. "I didn't mean what I said. I don't think you're selfish, baby. Maybe i'm just a greedy asshole," he says, rekindling the subject of what led to your silence towards him. His hand maneuvers around your leg so that his palm is on your thigh, making its way up towards the inner part of it. "But, I know something," his lips trail further up your thigh, softly kissing your skin. "I'm greedy about you. That can't and won't be changed, even when we argue like idiots."

You put your hand on his head as he starts kissing up your inner thighs, making his way even further up beneath your skirt.

"Come on, my sweet girl," he murmurs, his lips meeting the front of your underwear. "Tell me you want me to stop. Tell me you hate that my filthy paws are on you, right now."

Your legs tremble at the lightness of his touch, and you internally cringe at how sensitive you've always been for him.

"Toji..." you gasp. You feel his warm tongue flatten between your legs, a slow upwards drag of the muscle makes your thighs quiver before him. You whimper at the damp warmth his saliva leaves on your panties. "Fuck..." you moan, breathily. "Don't stop. Stay there, please."

The first word you reintroduced yourself with being a moaned out rendition of his name was heaven reaching down to pat him on the back for knowing exactly what to do to get you to talk again.

"Open wider for me, baby. Let me see," Toji says, your skirt still veiled over his head. You take a step back so that your back is against the door and widen your stance a little more. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and you shudder when his tongue returns to slide through your clothed folds. He doesn't even need to produce that much saliva to drench the fabric of your underwear because you've done that for him already with your leaking arousal.

You shut your eyes and rest your head against the door as Toji continues his act of filth between your thighs. You can hear him panting below you, your taste pleasantly coating his tongue every time he sucks on the garment that clings to you.

You cry out his name with sharp breaths following, your fingers tangling into his locks, gripping and tugging as his lips catch onto your cunt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you grit out, whimpering at the contrast between his mouth and his hands. His hands offer a gentle massage to your thighs, softly kneading the plush between his fingers. His mouth moves purposefully because he knows exactly what it takes to make you fall apart with it. He coats his tongue with your essence every time he laps at the wet patch on your underwear, sticky webs of arousal connecting him to you.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your cunt throbbing with every brush of his tongue. "I'm gonna cum... Fuck, i'm gonna cum..." you whine.

Toji pushes your underwear to the side, and glides his tongue through your generously slicked folds once and you're instantly arching your back off the door, squirming in his hold and moaning carelessly as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. He desperately chases the sound of your pleasure-ridden voice, wanting to hear the way it raises in pitch when he strokes you just right. He doesn't want it to stop, it's been too long. Two days way too long. You tug at his hair with one hand, dragging the nails of your other hand down the door. You breathe heavily as Toji manipulates your pleasure until your thighs are trembling.

Toji pulls away and lifts your skirt off his head. He lowers your leg back down and stands up from his crouched position. He faces you with glossy lips that shine with all the juices he collected from you, some of it drooling down his chin to give him an even more messy appearance. He presses his lips to yours, making slow movements to allow you to realize what is happening while your eyes are closed. You can taste yourself on his lips as you catch the rhythm.

There's a loud smack in the last kiss before he releases you, a feral look in his green eyes as he dotes on your blissed out appearance. You look too pure for someone who's just experienced something so sinful. "Hey, look at me," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Look at me," he repeats, staring at you as you try to catch your breath with closed eyes.

You hum, rolling your eyes open to lazily stare back at him. Your eyelids felt so heavy as you looked at him, but you liked how vigilant he was being. It made you crack a grin, a small gesture that had Toji's heart thudding a little quicker, now.

"I wanna fuck you so bad, mama." His eyes trail yours as they look away from his gaze. "If this is your reaction to my mouth, I don't even know what to expect for when I'm inside you."

You look down to see what's been poking your thigh for the past minute or so, and it's the monster in his pants, outlined for your eyes to quickly spot and everything.

"Come on," you say, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to lead him to the bedroom.

Toji shuts the door and locks it to give the situation a deeper level of intimacy. There's no one there but the two of you and yet you feel even more secluded by the gesture.

He wasn't aggressive in the way he bared you for his eyes. He pulled you close to him by the waist, your body against his as he peeled your layers of clothes off.

"Stay," he says, when you take a step back. He takes that step towards you again, placing his hands on your hips, and snaking them around to your back to locate the zipper for your skirt. He exhales through his nose, lidded eyes watching the longing expression on your face closely as he pulls down the zipper and allows the article to fall on the floor. His fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he fully slides his hands beneath it, and raises it up your torso higher and higher. You put your arms up and allow him to slip it off your head.

He makes haste of getting his own clothes off, a sly smirk decorating his face when he sees you admiring him from where you sit on the end of the bed as you take off your bra and underwear. You're forced further up the bed by Toji as he inches closer and closer to you. You reach a dead end and welcome the suffocating warmth of his body as he cages you onto the bed.

"Don't do that to me again, mama," he murmurs, before leaning down to peck your lips. "Don't let me talk to myself for that long when you have such a pretty voice to respond with."

You laugh, pulling a small grin from him. "I didn't think you'd care, to be honest. I thought you'd tell me i'm being childish or ridiculous."

"Nah, princess. I thought I was gonna die."

You giggle, pulling him close again. "You're exaggerating."

"You wouldn't let me touch you. Not even when we went to bed, so it was like we were friends instead of lovers sleeping together. Especially with how far on your side you slept."

"Oh, baby," you coo, pressing multiple quick apologetic kisses to his lips. He chuckles at the affection, and his eyes close instinctively as your kisses become more widespread on his face. He missed this more than anything. "What can I do for your forgiveness, my love?"

"Just let me fuck you, ma. That's all. Give me my privilege to all of this, again." His hand slowly trails from your chest to your stomach, a touch you longed for dearly during those two days that you verbally ignored him.

"It's yours," you whisper to him. You peer up at him with your constellation eyes, silently begging him to realize how much you need him. "I'm yours, so show me the use you have for the privilege over my body, baby."

He leans down to kiss you, softly. He's desperate for you, but his lips don't falter their delicate synchrony because of it. He guides the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing up and down the slickness a couple times before slowly sinking into you. Your ability to tangle with Toji's lips slowly deteriorates, and your focus strays to the stretching happening lower down your body, so Toji picks up the slack and feeds you his kisses.

"Come on," he groans out. Not even he is immune to the rebirth of sex with you. You're warm and inviting, and you embrace the pain and comfort he offers every time he craves you or you crave him. This time is no exception. "Kiss me back, sweetheart. Give them all to me," he mutters, before attempting to connect his lips to yours again. You dig your heels into the mattress and your toes curl as you feel his girth continue to submerge inside you.

Toji cups your chin and uses his fingers to squish your cheeks together into a makeshift pout for him to kiss. He can hear your hummed little whimpers in response to him sheathing himself further into you. He was being gentle, because hurting you is a crime in his world.

"Fuck, I missed this, mama," he says, goosebumps rising on his torso as he drags himself out of you halfway and pushes himself back in again. "So warm..." he says over the sound of your pleasured moan. He sighs, a grunt following as he starts a careful rocking rhythm into you. "I could stay inside you forever."

"I could keep you here forever," you rephrase, gazing up at him with those eyes he unequivocally loves. They've reverted back to the default loving expression you hold for him, the vacancy of your previous gaze now filled with love, excitement, lust, and overall enchantment. It's a beautiful thing to see your hurricanes subside.

He leans down to kiss you again, distributing the kisses on your face and leading them towards your neck. You could feel his abs dragging up and down your stomach with every roll of his hips against yours.

"Mmm... Toji," you moan, bringing your hands to his back. One of them moves up to the nape of his neck, threading through the dampened locks of his hair, the other traces his spine to distract you from how badly you want to dig your nails into him.

"I know," he coos, kissing the spot beneath your ear. "I know, doll. It's always this good with you."

You gasp at the feeling of his cock prodding the more sensitive area within you. "Right there, right there... Oh..." you moan out, inevitably digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Toji directs his kisses back up your neck and towards your face again so he can see the honest expression on it. You're lost in pleasure, vibrating as another orgasm rushes through you.

"Fuck, mama.. let me-" he groans, outwardly losing it at the overflow of your juices. "Let me see those pretty eyes," he pants, gripping your waist a little more harshly as he feels his cock on the brink of expelling into you. "Need you to watch me," he says, taking in the way your lips part to release your sounds of utter satisfaction. Your eyes flutter open to center on his greedy eyes. You mirror his lustful, lidded gaze, the look enough to make him spill inside you, making your cunt even sloppier. "You're gorgeous, ma," he says, mindlessly, as he fucks into you with a little more fervor. "Fucking stunning," he mutters through pants, to which you respond with a sly smirk. The gesture lured a groan out of him and made his cock twitch as he finished releasing into you.

You giggle when he stills his hips. Your combined attempts to regulate your breathing fills the silence that follows. "What're you laughing at?" He asks, massaging your hip with his thumb.

"You tell me that all the time like you're obsessed with me or something."

"And if I am?" he says with a voice so deep you have to blink to see that it's still your gentle giant of a man. "Is it too much for you? Can you handle it? Am I suffocating you, baby?" he purrs, cupping your cheeks while leaning in close to emphasize his points. All it does is allow you to closely admire how handsome he is and really think about what's happening in this moment. This green-eyed, raven-haired man, with the prettiest pointed nose and the most attractive scarred lips, is bedding you, and doing it so well.

"Never. Come closer and bite," you murmur.

He takes your lips in his again, a little more aggressive than before. You asked him to bite, and that's exactly what he's doing. The make out has him rocking both of you a little faster, working you towards yet another orgasm. You nip at his bottom lip and run your tongue over it when hisses. You hum out a little giggle, and moan into his mouth when he jolts into you.

"God, i'll bust again if you keep doing that. I'm serious, mama" he groans, swiping his tongue over his stinging bottom lip. You think he's being dramatic so when he leans down to kiss you again, you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. You gasp, releasing his lip and stare at him with wide eyes as his excessive warmth spurts into your cunt, filling it to the brim and beyond, to the point of leakage.

"F-Fuck... you're terrible," he groans, shuddering with tense abdominal muscles as he lures the entirety of his orgasm out. "Cum," he says, panting as he picks up the pace of his rutting to get you to follow his orgasm. "I can feel you clenching around me like hell. I know you want to," he says, reaching a hand between you and him to stimulate your clit.

Your already labored breathing picks up and your heart is pounding in your ears aggressively as you roll your hips back against his. You whimper as you feel your peak get closer and closer, a cried out and breathy "fuck!" leaving you when it arrives, followed by high pitched moans that make Toji's heart race. You arched your back off the mattress as you reached the zenith of your orgasm with the help of Toji's finger rapidly rubbing your clit while he maintained his satisfying pace inside you.

You whimper, slapping a hand onto Toji's wrist to stop his movements on you. He smirks at the sight of your trembling thighs, your heaving chest, and the sound of your dazed hums. You always were such a delicate thing. So fragile that even with just enough of his attention, he could break you.

"Tired yet?" He asks, admiring your relaxed facial features. You nod with your eyes closed, your lips parted to release little puffs of air. "Thought you'd be. I'll go grab some towels for us to shower." He pulls out of you, taking a moment to admire your collaborative masterpiece.

"Baby..." you whine, sitting up when you feel his weight lift off the bed. "I can't get up." You dramatically let yourself fall back on the bed and stick your tongue out to portray your exhaustion.

"Get up, you faker. That's all you have to do and i'll take care of the rest."

"Too tired to wash myself right now..." you say, waking up for a second before closing your eyes again. Toji can see the sly grin on your face and the little shake of your stomach as you stifle your giggles.

"Guess you're too tired to eat, too, huh? You know i've got a huge appetite, and I could eat all that food you brought by myself."

"You wouldn't," you say, abruptly sitting up on the bed and squinting at him. "There's enough to feed three people in those bags."

"I've got the stomach of three people in one, so you better catch up before you're left with my seconds."

You sigh, too tired to move, but you get up anyway and trail behind Toji. "Baby, can you pleeease clean me up? I'm beat."

He puts his hands on your shoulders as he now walks behind you. "Sure, but don't complain when I take longer on certain areas."

[brattyspence]

virginia is for lovers | s.reid

summary: model!reader accidentally exposes their relationship through a soft launch instagram post

tags: model!reader x spencer, penelope included <3, smau

a/n: this is kinda short n pointless but i wanted a reason to write reader tweeting abt spencer and its been in my drafts for weeks so

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

Spencer had worked hard to keep you a secret. 

Not because he wasn’t thrilled to be in your life, because he really, really was. Historically, things had a tendency to go south as soon as word got out, especially when it came to his personal life. 

You had met in a bookstore. It was a short interaction; you were busy debating which translation of The Stranger was most appropriate to read. You must have been standing in the aisle of the bookstore a little too long, holding two copies side by side, when he had offered his two cents on the matter.

Typically, you weren’t one to entertain conversation in public. Nine times out of ten, you’d get one word in before the inevitable “Please can I take a picture? I love your blog so much!”, but this was different. You weren’t even sure he had even seen your face before he started talking to you. He wasn’t initially trying to hit on you, either. He was genuinely excited that someone was willing to listen to him ramble about the differences between the Ward and Guilbert translations, so when you responded in such a way that asked him to continue on, he was surprised. 

That day, you’d left the store with four more books than intended, and a single bookmark where he had written his phone number after you asked for it.  He had asked you for your name; a confirmation that he actually had no idea who you were. 

The rest was history. You saw him whenever possible, spent nights on the phone together, and flew across the country often just to see him. You loved having a relationship that didn’t need to be public, but you were also excited to share bits of it with the world.

It was late at night, and he was sitting at his desk in the bullpen, trying to finish the last of the paperwork he’d been assigned, when he heard commotion from Penelope’s office. He figured it was nothing new; probably just some news about the royal family or one of the real housewives again, but she’d thrown her door open in such a way that it garnered attention from everyone in the office.

“Spencer Reid,” She gripped her phone and rushed across the room with determination. “Do you have something you want to share with me?”

He looked up from his paperwork, furrowing his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Why are you on my Instagram feed?” She placed her phone on his desk in front of him. 

“I’m not on instagram,” he replied. 

“Oh, but you are,” she said. “You are such a little liar. I can’t wait to tell Derek about this.”

She pushed his paperwork aside, plopping her phone down in front of him. It was a slideshow on instagram. A photo of the most recent bouquet he bought for you. A few from the museum you’d visited together, including several where his hands or shoes were visible, but nothing that really pointed to him. He could almost make the argument Penelope was mistaken, until the last photo, which included just enough of his apartment to confirm her questioning.

“You said you were seeing someone and I thought… someone from a chess tournament, or maybe… oh, I don't know. Literally anyone else? But you bagged a model?” 

“I-” he sighed. “How did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her, Spencer. I’ve followed her for years! I see her posts all the time. I can’t believe you.”

He scrolled down.

liked by @jjareau and others

@yourusername: virginia is for lovers :)                                              posted 12 hours ago

↪ @randomuser1: GIRL STOP TEASING WHO IS HE

↪ @randomuser3: i’ve been trying to figure it out since that tweet last month 😞

↪ @randomuser2: this is the sweetest soft launch i’ve ever seen <3

↪ 12k comments

He clicked onto your profile. 

@yourusername 

5.2M Followers

Followed by @jjareau, @emp.sergio and more

“You’ve got to see her Twitter, lover boy. She’s been gushing about you.”

“Oh, god,” he groans. So much for privacy. He lets her take the phone back, redirecting his attention to your Twitter page. She scrolls back to June before handing it over, letting him read in chronological order.

June 10

@yourusername: hot girl summer is officially over. just asked a man for HIS number.

June 25

@yourusername: is it offensive to men if you call them pretty? bc this man is rlly pretty 

@yourusername: update: apparently it is not :)

July 30:

@yourusername: good morning text + picture of a dog that he claims reminded him of me???? gonna ask for his hand in marriage

August 15

@yourusername: up til 2 bc hes explaining quantum mechanics to me 🧚🏻

@yourusername: embarrassed to say that form of dirty talk worked on me 

August 20

@yourusername: oh btw im a girlfriend now!

↪@yourfan1: look u long enough wtf girl

↪@yourusername: dw im locking him down 🫡

↪@yourfan2: thats OUR man now 💘

“Oh, wow.”

She takes the phone back. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? Or me? Oh, this is great news. You’re bringing her to Rossi’s next, week, right?”

“I- Pen, I have no idea.” He laughs. He watches her type away on the device aggressively. “Are you texting everyone?”

“Yuh-huh. I need to call JJ, like… yesterday. And this isn't the end of this conversation!” She darted back into her office quickly, letting the door fall shut behind her.

He decided his remaining paperwork could wait. He packed his things up in a hurry, and decided to head out of the office, dialing your number on the way out. 

You picked up on the first ring. 

“Hey,” you started. “How was work? Are you heading out?”

“Yeah,” He started. He pushed through the glass doors of the office, staring towards the stairwell. “It was… busy. I just had a really interesting conversation with my coworker.”

“Mhm…” You had been lounging in your hotel room waiting for his call. “About..?”

“You, actually.” He replied. “She follows you on instagram. Apparently most of the office does. She showed me your post today.”

“Oh,” you replied. “Oh god, Spence. I’m sorry. I didn’t think… anyone would be able to tell who you were.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I work with some… characters. It’s totally fine, though.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, anxiously.

“Yeah. It was cute,” he replied, smiling to himself as he exited the building. “Tasteful.”

“That's what I wanted,” You reply.

“I thought Twitter was much more interesting, though.”

You froze, cringing. “Oh, god. Tell me you didn't read all of it.

He chuckles. “I skimmed it.”

You groan. 

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

----

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5.

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

[priniya]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 END OF THE DAY ! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. lando norris x reader

summary. being a supportive girlfriend during an awfully stressful time is hard, so when reader and lando ends up fighting, neither of them is surprised. however, she can’t help but be in love with him at the end of the day.

notes. pretty short and not proofread 😕😕

YOU WERE WALKING ON EGGSHELLS FOR THE PAST two weeks around your boyfriend. he was thrown into contention for the title mid-season and as the last race weekend of the season was getting excruciatingly closer, lando’s mood was dropping drastically. you understood it, not in the way that you were in the same situation as him, but frustration, pressure and disappointment weren’t strangers to you. you could see that your boyfriend was gradually becoming a ticking bomb, yet unsure when will his breaking point happen.

as it turned out, it happened on a second day after he got back from brazil. it was a silly argument that escalated to a major fight, resulting in you, driving back to your apartment in ventimiglia to give the brit his required space.

it wasn’t ideal, coming home, you hardly stepped a foot into your apartment, when lando was in monaco as you usually stayed at his place to get as much of him as possible in the — usually — short period of time. norris, unbeknownst to you, immediately felt terrible just as he watched you left. guilt creeped up his spine, yet he made no effort to stop you, knowing that he needed some space to get ahold of himself. no title could make him fill the void if he lost you.

so, after a few days of radio silence from one another, you were starting to feel like you were losing the precious time you had with lando. the clip from max fewtrell’s stream with your boyfriend there, saying that he’s eating food that sat in his fridge for more than six months or staying awake for 26 hours, has found its way into your twitter feed. it made you worry restlessly.

thirty or so minutes later, while lando was still playing some game with max and a few of their friends, you let yourself into his apartment and started rummaging through his to find all those expired items and threw them out, already making an order for new groceries. as much petty as you could be sometimes, you didn’t want your boyfriend to end up with food poisoning, it was kind of oscar’s thing now.

cleaning his fridge took you fifteen minutes at most, considering that you threw up a huge portion of its content. it was just then, when you decided to put on your big girl pants and face him. you made him some tea with lemon and honey, before quietly tapping him on the shoulder.

“jesus christ!” he shrieked, causing you to giggle. “mate, i think i’m having some sorta proper hallucinations.” your boyfriend spoke into his headset, not believing the sight in front of him — not believing that he was seeing you. you could’ve easily picked up the guys taking a piss out of him, which made you laugh even harder.

“you need sleep, lad.” “yeah, you sound like a maniac.” “that’s the expired meat speaking.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it, lads. i’ll take care of him.” you moved closer to the microphone to let the guys know that everything’s taken care of, fully aware that max, your boyfriend’s best friend, would get concerned.

“i’m super sorry.” lando spoke softly, once you left the discord call. his arms snuck around your waist, pulling you flush against him — almost as if he had really missed you. “i love you so much, please don’t break up with me.” he added. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to bite back the chuckle upon not only hearing his words, but also upon seeing his childish-like expression.

you managed to escape his embrace, dropping your hand into his, while trying to drag him back into his room for a nap. it wasn’t a hard task with lando trailing right behind you until you sat him down at the edge of the bed.

“i’m not mad at you, baby.” you reassured him in a gentle tone. your hand caressing his cheek. “i still love you, okay? but you gotta go to bed, lando. we’ll talk later, alright?” you tried to coax him into listening to you and you’ve succeeded.

WHEN YOUR BOYFRIEND WOKE UP A FEW HOURS later, he thought that your presence in his apartment was just a dream. having pushed himself off the bed, he walked to the kitchen to finish off his expired chicken. that’s when he found you lounging on the couch, while eating something that smelled incredibly well.

yup, he must’ve been hallucinating.

with that in mind, he didn’t even approach you, trying not to feed into his delusions. if his mates knew that he started seeing his girlfriend after eating something that spent a few months in his fridge, they would never let him live it down. he furrowed his brows at the sight of a pan full of carbonara that he had no recollection of making — maybe he should go see a doctor?

lando sighed in relief after having taken a sniff of the dish, realising that somehow it’s not gone bad. how did it ended up in his place? no idea.

“bloody hell, no more eating expired food. i’m seeing stuff.” the brit muttered, rubbing his face in slight frustration. upon hearing his quiet mutter, you let out a small chuckle, tilting your head to the side in amusement.

“lando, you know i’m real, right?” you mused, a small smile creeping up on your lips. your boyfriend’s forehead creased in confusion. god, he seemed so out of it. “as in, i came here this afternoon, you’re not seeing stuff.” your words were coated with hilarity as you gave him a look.

lando was bewildered. twenty six hours of sleep weren’t that much, how did he forget that you got to his apartment and, apparently, talked to him? his cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he put the plate down on the coffee table and sat next to you.

“i, uh, wanted to call.” he spoke, his head hanging a bit lower. “t’was unnecessary, my outburst, i mean.” a sigh escaped his lips. he was slowly beginning to look like a sad, kicked puppy.

“it was super unnecessary.” you agreed, running a hand through his hand in a slow motion. “we can’t really go back in time, can we?” he shook his head at your words, taking your hand in his hair as an invitation, so he moved closer to you, his arm sneaking around your waist.

“but you still love me?”

“yes, lando. i still love you.” you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“good, i would probably kill myself, uh, or die without you.”