#;; I can write a whole new thing if needed too!!!

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 7 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! This one is coming a little earlier than usual because I am more anxious to update than y'all are anxious to read lmao Past chapter had so many comments!!! I'm glad you guys liked it so much. It was such a fun chapter to write! Hope y'all will like this one as much! ALSO checks page HOW MANY KUDOS??? WHAT THE HELL??? 😭😭 Thank you so much!!! It truly means so much to me 😭😭 Anyway let me shut up lol enjoy!! <3

⤕  Chapters: check masterlist in bio!  ⤕ Also on AO3

Guilt was a feeling Alucard avoided vehemently.

After you reach a certain age, you realize that there are some feelings and situations that you should avoid for your own sanity. One of them – perhaps the most important – is to avoid thinking too much about the past. One thing is to cherish the people you’ve met and loved, to keep some moments close to your heart; another thing is refuse that they will never come back and to avoid facing the present. Alucard knew quite well that this can sink you. That’s why he was constantly busying himself – traveling the world, meeting new cultures, learning new things.

Another thing he avoided – this one took him a long time to learn, a whole lot of grief to understand – was to… get too attached. And yes, this made him lonelier than ever. Yes, this wasn’t entirely healthy. He knew about all that. But his mortal heart wasn’t strong like his immortal body, and there was a moment in his life when he decided that he couldn’t take much more pain anymore. Stepping away from the Belmonts was… difficult, but was what the needed at the moment. He needed to let his heart heal, and the only thing that heals is time. Perhaps much more time than he first assumed.

And then there was guilt. Alucard didn’t like to feel guilt because it meant that he failed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t someone that could fail. His ways of life, his fights, the things he stood for usually involved countless innocent lives, so he couldn’t give himself the luxury of failing. Alucard was methodical, precise, insistent – not to say stubborn. Because yes, he could he stubborn –; he only accepted perfection of himself. Him succeeding meant no one suffered. Therefore, no guilt.

That’s why Alucard was partially hating himself at that moment. He’d felt more guilt in the span of 48 hours than in the last few years.

He almost couldn’t look at Ruby in the eye.

Luckily, she was sitting behind him as he guided the horse on the streets of Paris, so he wouldn’t have too see her for some moments – but her arms around his waist and the warmth of her body were a reminder that she was there.

His feelings were a bit… chaotic at the moment, to be honest. On one hand, he was glad – relieved – that Ruby had healed. On the other hand, he knew that the reason why she got so hurt in the first place was because of him. He told her she wouldn’t get hurt and he weren’t there to protect her, even if she claimed to have jumped in front of a night creature to save Annette. And then there was the other part of him (the methodical, precise and stubborn part of him) hissing that he shouldn’t be wasting time going to the Louvre because there was an army of vampires coming and he had to act.

But Alucard couldn’t tell her no. Not really. Not when she looked at him with that glow in her eyes – a glow of hope he hadn’t seen in her yet. Alucard couldn’t bring himself to be so cruel. Especially not after what she’d been through mere hours ago.

He owed her that.

Ruby was becoming a bigger mystery to him in more complicated ways than he first assumed. It didn’t involve only her unknown past, but also her behavior. It was difficult for him to understand how she was acting so normal after what she had just suffered. Sure, the methodical part of him was thankful to that – he had to act fast; quite frankly, he wouldn’t have time to wait until she recovered. If her healing took longer than it did, he would have a real problem at hands, and if she was frozen in shock, it would also be a problem.

But then there was his mortal heart speaking into his mind, too. It never shut up, unfortunately.

There was something so deeply wrong with Ruby.

The more time he spent with her, the more he watched her, the more he heard her heart race and her fingers shake at the most casual situations – like walking into a crowd or mustering courage to speak –, the more he realized that Ruby didn’t have any care for herself, the angrier he got.

Alucard also avoided getting too angry. Anger was a form of attachment as well; it tied the ones he despised to him. Anger could take a person like him – eternal and powerful – down a very dangerous path. Anger led to wrath, which let to hatred.

But again… it was getting hard for Alucard to keep his feelings in place. Not when he could still feel the now faint smell of Ruby’s blood.

In fact, he thought she was going to die.

Her blood was everything Alucard could feel the moment he stepped out of the Seine. He knew it was Ruby’s; he got quite familiar with it due to that scratch on her heel as they walked to Juste’s cottage. It was so strong that he almost could see the air turning red. It must’ve drawn the attention of every vampire in the area.

And then he rushed to the palace and saw her in that state.

She can heal, Alucard tried to convince himself, but could she, really? He’d seen her heal from cuts, not multiple fractures and mass bleeding. Those wounds meant death to any human and vampire, unless they could drink blood to strengthen their healing process.

Alucard barely knew her. He was still a tiny bit suspicious of her – of her cloudy past, at least. And yet, the thought of Ruby dying scared him.

Not many things scared him.

Death was one of those things. Not the fear of facing death himself, but having to watch someone close to him die. Alucard was far too familiar with the feeling and he never got used to it.

If Ruby had died at that moment, he’d carry that scar with him for a long time. She didn’t even had a chance to live. She didn’t even remember if she had lived before her imprisonment. If Ruby had died, it wouldn’t only be painful; it would be unfair.

So yes, he got scared. Yes, he held her close and tried to ease her pain – Hell, she looked in so much pain, even if she didn’t scream – because it was the only thing he could do. The Universe couldn’t be so cruel to that woman to just let her die like that. It… it couldn’t.

To his utter relief, Ruby healed. Her skin closed the wounds, the bleeding stopped, she finally passed out and slept for a bit.

Mixed with his relief was also confusion.

Her healing was far more powerful than Alucard first assumed. Alucard didn’t know many vampires that could heal from injuries so serious.

What was Ruby?

Why did she have this strange condition? How did she achieve it? For what end?

Alucard wanted to know. He needed to know. Erzsebet must’ve had a reason not only to keep her, but also to want to retrieve her.

The white-haired vampire instinctively held the reins a bit tighter as he remembered Drolta.

Ruby’s face of pure panic. Fuck, he couldn’t take her expression off his mind. The way Drolta was twirling that necklace around her finger. A ruby necklace. Everything made sense at that moment.

Her nonchalance after getting injured, the little care she had for herself, her fear and hesitance…

These things were growing on him in an ugly way.

A week ago, Erzsebet and Drolta were just two maniacal cult leaders that needed to be stopped. It wasn’t exactly personal. Alucard had dealt with vampires like them many times in his life.

Now, however, he not only needed to stop them – he wanted to kill them.

And this time, he would make sure that they were gone. He would personally make sure that Drolta was actually dead. He would make sure to slash her head off her neck and burn her body to ashes.

He would make sure to shatter that necklace to pieces.

Alucard couldn’t heal Ruby’s soul, but he hoped that their death, at least, would bring her some peace.

Alucard pulled the reins and made the horse gallop significantly slower until it stopped.

“What’s the problem?” Ruby asked close to his ear as she tried to peek ahead over his shoulder.

“The streets around the palace are blocked.” Alucard tightened his eyes a bit. Soldiers barricaded the entrance to the front square of the Louvre, trying to keep a crowd of curious people away. The man let a tired sigh. “Well, I guess I should’ve expected it.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “We’ll have to sneak in by foot.” Ruby nodded. She dismounted from the horse first, being shortly followed by him.

Alucard wandered his eyes around the crowd. They chatted suspiciously among themselves. “I heard an attack happened,” someone said, while another person murmured that “my cousin’s a guard, he told me it were the royalists that wanted to avenge the King,” or someone else said “This is all fake! It’s just to keep our attention here. Another faction is planning to take the country overnight as we speak!”

But then, some young voices caught his attention the most. Three boys discussed excitedly among themselves.

“He’s obviously lying,” the boy in the middle said, crossing his arms and frowning. “Don’t believe him.”

“I’m tellin’ ya!” The shortest of the three insisted, gesticulating excitedly. “I saw a dragon flyin’ inside the palace. Then, some minutes later, I saw another winged thing flying away!”

“It could’ve been a bird.”

“It wasn’t a bird! Never seen a bird so big in my life!”

“Your eyesight isn’t even that good anyway. He said he saw a crocodile in the Seine last week, remember?”

“Hey– you said you saw it, too!”

Alucard couldn’t help but feel a bit of his tension dissipate. The sight was... a bit familiar.

He made a sharp whistle, immediately calling the three boys’ attention.

“Do you lads mind watching my horse for a while?” Alucard said, still holding the reins with one hand. He shook the small coin pouch in his palm.

Their eyes immediately gleamed excitedly. They clumsily made their way to approach him, bumping into each other and grinning.

“Of course, sir!” The shortest one saluted Alucard as if he were a soldier.

The tallest one, noticing Ruby standing near, bowed awkwardly, pinching the tip of his worn out beret. “Mademoiselle,” he said in a high pitched voice. Then, his eyes rapidly traveled from her to Alucard, and he coughed. “I mean– madame.” The two other boys imitated his action like tiny echoes, all equally clumsy.

They earned an endeared smile from her. She held her skirt and bobbed a small curtsy graciously in return.

The three blushed.

Alucard inhaled a small chuckle.

“We won’t take long, so stay in the area.” The white-haired vampire said, catching the boys’ attention again. The shortest one seemed to be some sort of leader of the group, as he was the one to approach and hold the reins. Alucard swiftly placed a coin on each of their open palms. “Rest of the payment when I get back.”

“Thank you, sir!” They said in unison, eyes glued in their shiny coins.

The one that looked the oldest tightened his eyes. “Hm, may I ask, sir, what exactly is your business here? The palace is blocked, as you can see.”

Alucard tightened his eyes at him, too. “I certainly see that it’s blocked, and I certainly wouldn’t advise you boys to get any closer to it.” Then, he dropped his voice, his tone picking their attention once again. “I wonder, however, if you were to get closer to it, which street would you pick?”

They eyed each other. The tallest boy coughed again.

“Well, if I were to get closer to it, I would pick an alley behind the Perrault street… most people don’t gather around there, so…”

“...Less guards,” the oldest completed.

Alucard nodded. He placed one more coin on each of their hands. They giggled.

He pointed ahead with his head to Ruby. However, as he was turning around to leave, he stopped and looked at them.

“By the way, what you saw is correct,” Alucard said in a quiet, serious voice. They all froze. “But that wasn’t a dragon; it was a demon. The city is in danger. When we get back, you boys should get your families and hide.”

He didn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction. Ruby, however, lingered her gaze a little longer on them before following him.

A quiet sadness clouded her eyes, made her shoulders drop a bit. She interlocked her hands on her lower stomach as she walked. It seemed to be a standard quirk of hers, besides the one of gripping her skirt when she was nervous. This specific movement as she walked, however, was very… polite.

Alucard didn’t exactly like it.

Not because he didn’t appreciate good manners. Ruby was, in fact, very gracious in anything she did – from her impeccable posture at all times to the way she sat or the way she ate, the way she held cutlery, the way she never raised her voice too much, or even how she insisted in calling him sir when they first met. She had the good manners of a high society lady.

But Alucard knew that all of this was a product of what she had endured. Making herself smaller, quieter, imperceptible. Ruby didn’t do any of that to impress anyone or to fit into some sort of societal standard. She did it because she was afraid of bringing any attention upon her.

The more he observed her, the more he caught himself silently wishing Ruby would… slouch. Raise her voice, show anger or tiredness or boredom. Make it clear when she didn’t like something or voice her opinions without becoming a puddle of anxiety.

That’s one of the reasons why Alucard couldn’t bring himself to say no when she asked to go to the Louvre. Most of the time, she wasn’t brave enough to speak her mind and make requests. She felt comfortable enough at that moment to ask him. And… Alucard actually hated it, but he had also noticed that, sometimes, Ruby flinched away from him and seemed scared when he showed annoyance or moved too abruptly. Unfortunately, he still had similar physical traits of the ones who hurt her so much. The fact that she was growing comfortable around him made him feel… content.

Ruby looked down. “Poor kids. Their clothes are so worn out…”

“This is the situation for most children in this country. That is mainly why the revolution started.”

“...I guess Richter was right. How can a king have a palace this big while his people die of hunger?” She took some moments to speak again. “And if Erzsebet succeeds… she will make things worse.”

Alucard nodded. “Yes. But she won’t, because we’ll stop her.” He pointed with his finger to a nearby street. “Let’s go.”

They quickened their pace, keeping silent for most of the way. Most streets were crowded by a mass of curious people; the news traveled fast, and it seemed that everyone forgot about the execution earlier and decided to gather at this part of the city. Paris was drowned in chaos. Most soldiers were too worried trying to quiet down the population. How could they even prepare for the incoming battle?

Finally, they arrived at the alley the boy had mentioned – and the little bastard was right. It was a dirty small alley where most people avoided, only being guarded by two soldiers that weren’t paying much attention to their job.

At last, Alucard stopped walking in a spot out of their sight. The back view of the palace was just ahead. He turned around and looked down at Ruby, sending her a hesitant look.

“My apologies, but I will need to do that again.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Oh. Okay.”

“...Do you think you can handle it this time?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine.” She was clearly lying. Well, there was nothing he could do about that.

Alucard wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly to a point her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. He narrowed his eyes, visualizing the path he would have to make.

A familiar red glow enveloped his body–

He sprinted through the alley, passing in between both guards so fast that they didn’t even understand what was happening; to them it was just a sudden, violent gush of wind that made their hats fly away and their eyes widen in confusion.

And just like that, they were within the palace’s gardens.

Alucard put Ruby on the floor again. She was visibly dizzy, so he still held her arm for support. She blinked several times, as if trying to fade the vertigo away.

“It… wasn’t that bad this time,” she lied again. It didn’t look like she wanted to vomit this time, though. Alucard smiled slightly and let go of her arm.

“Do you remember in which room you found the artifact?” He asked quietly, worrying that anyone would hear them. He didn’t want to have to confront any human.

“The same where I was trying to hide in,” Ruby looked around the tall building. “The night creature came crashing through the window. We can use it to get in.”

Alucard nodded, trying to remember in what section of the palace that was…

Then he realized that he didn’t need to remember anything, because the scent of her blood was still very much in the air. They didn’t even have time to clean it. Alucard turned his head in the direction where the scent was stronger.

“There. Let’s go.”

They walked fast, Alucard always placing his body in front of her, walking near the wall under the windows to not get caught. They crossed paths with some guards, but luckily were not seen. He wondered why the hell did that place need to be so horizontally big.

Finally, the sight of a destroyed window appeared ahead. As the building had a double height ceiling, it’d be necessary to climb to get through the window. Alucard gesticulated for Ruby to wait. His sword unsheathed itself and floated up; through the reflection on the shiny iron, he saw that although the doors were opened, the gallery was empty.

Alucard once again wrapped his arm around her waist and floated, graciously passing through the window. As soon as their feet landed on the floor, he nodded his head softly; the double doors closed and locked.

He let go of her and she stepped aside.

The gallery was absolutely destroyed; debris and glass everywhere, broken pieces of the wooden crates, rags of once was a curtain around the floor, statues and paintings destroyed… and blood. A lot of blood.

Ruby widened her eyes at the sight of her own dried blood over the floor. It seems she hadn’t realized how much she bled. She gulped and averted her gaze somewhere else.

“It seems they didn’t start to clean things up yet,” she stated the obvious in a nervous tone.

“They’re probably measuring the damage first. It’ll take them a few days,” Alucard crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the room. He, in fact, felt bad about all that. So many artifacts were destroyed during the fight… thousands of years of art and history went to waste. It was especially outrageous how Drolta didn’t care about the damage at the Egyptian gallery, given that she came from those same ancient times. She had no respect for her own culture anymore.

“Is it here?” he asked, paying attention to her again.

Ruby hummed quietly.

She walked towards the doors, looking for something on the floor. She tip toed around a pool of blood, trying to avoid stepping on it at all costs. Alucard followed her, albeit keeping a good distance so she could scoop the area without his interference.

Finally, she gasped and rushed to grab something at the corner of the room, near the wall. It was hidden behind a destroyed crate.

Ruby turned around, holding a golden scepter with both hands. Her eyes glowed with afraid amazement.

“This is it,” she confirmed.

They approached each other, meeting at the center of the gallery. Alucard analyzed the artifact she held. It was almost as tall as her with a symbol of the sun at its tip. Throughout the entire staff, there were tiny writings engraved. Although it was golden, it wasn’t much adorned; other than the symbol of the sun and the intricate sun rays in the form of curvy spikes, it was very plain. It appeared to be something used in religious ceremonies.

“What happened exactly when you held it for the first time?” He asked.

Ruby looked down at the scepter. “It was covered in rust. I didn’t even know what I was looking at. Then, when I held it, it got… hot. And it shone.”

“It shone?” Alucard quirked one eyebrow up.

“Yes. So bright that I had to close my eyes. And then… all the rust was gone.”

“And after that?”

Ruby pressed her lips together. “...Nothing. The night creature came in and I dropped it.”

Alucard nodded. “Do you feel anything strange right now?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.” She lifted the object closer to his eyes. “But, see? The writings? It’s that same language. Do you recognize what this is?”

Alucard narrowed his eyes. “Can I?”

Ruby handed him the scepter, which he held with both hands. It was quite heavy – actual pure gold. It was a miracle that the royal French family didn’t melt it, or whoever was in possession of the artifact it previously. He brought it close to his face, analyzing the scriptures.

The characters appeared to be organized vertically instead of horizontally, very similar to Mandarin or Japanese structures of writing. These characters, however, meant nothing to him. They weren’t rounded like Sanskrit, weren’t allusive of animals or nature like Egyptian hieroglyphs or ancient Mandarin, and they didn’t resemble the common Latin alphabet. At most, it reminded him a bit of Sumerian writing, given how simplistic the characters seemed to be – but if it really was Sumerian, Alucard would’ve known.

“You know how to read it, but don’t understand the meaning of the words?” Alucard asked without taking his eyes off the scepter.

“Yes.”

“So, each character means a sound.” Ruby nodded. Phonetic, as he suspected, since the characters repeated themselves over and over again.

“Do you have any idea of what it is?” she repeated, sounding hopeful.

Alucard pressed his lips together.

He really missed Sypha in moments like this.

She would’ve immediately known what it was – or at least, had an idea of how to start investigating the origins of this strange language. Alucard became quite good at learning new languages over the years, but not as good as her. Never.

It felt like there was an invisible cold hand pressing around his heart – like it did anytime he thought of her.

“Unfortunately no.” Alucard shook his head. Ruby’s shoulders dropped. “Let’s not be discouraged. This artifact definitely has magic in it; I can feel it.” Yes, it vibrated under his palm in a high frequency – a metaphysical frequency, like all magic things did. It didn’t reek of demonic magic or negative alchemy either. It felt quite neutral; Alucard couldn’t tell what type of magic it stored.

The white-haired vampire frowned.

“And it certainly doesn’t like me.”

Ruby tilted her head to the side, visibly confused. “What?”

There was a strange sensation in his gut. A certain aggressiveness. Alucard didn’t feel like the scepter could actually hurt him, but the bad feeling was there anyway. He handed the artifact back to Ruby; the moment it left his hands, the sensation was gone.

“Some magical items don’t accept being touched by anyone. Some can only be touched by their masters.”

“Like your sword?” She asked, eyeing the weapon that was still protectively floating near Alucard’s body.

“Precisely.” Alucard shrugged. “Or it just doesn’t like me because I am part vampire.” At her utter confusion, he decided to elaborate. “In magic terms, my existence is an aberration. A half-human, half-vampire being goes against the natural order.”

She pressed her lips and looked down. “...But it’s not your fault.”

Alucard chuckled softly. It sounded like she felt bad for him, which he found quite endearing. “The scepter doesn’t know it.”

They were interrupted when someone tried to open the doors. Both turned around immediately, Ruby visibly startled at the sudden sound.

“Who’s in there?” a male voice was heard from the other side. “Open the doors!”

“Let’s go,” Alucard hurried towards the window again. Yet, she froze in place.

“Do we take it with us?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t it stealing?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at her. Alucard stepped closer again. “Everything here was stolen from some other country, Ruby. They won’t miss it.”

And then, he was holding her close to his body again, floating out of the palace through the window. The sword obediently sheathed itself again. However, when he stepped foot on the grass, he didn’t let go of her.

“I’ll have to…”

“Yes. I understand,” she nodded before he could finish, tightening the scepter close to her chest.

Alucard felt a tiny bit bad for a moment before sprinting out of the palace’s gardens in a red blur. She seemed to handle the post-dizziness a bit better this time, though.

They hurried around the streets. Ruby held the artifact with nervousness.

“This thing isn’t exactly subtle,” she said between gritted teeth. Indeed. An object made of gold wasn’t something you could hold around and act nonchalant about.

“I can hide it under my cape if you want,” he offered, to which she shook her head.

“No. If it makes you feel bad, I’d rather not.” It seemed she really didn’t think before saying that, because she froze for a moment and immediately avoided his gaze.

Alucard knew that if he chuckled it’d make her feel bad, so he swallowed it.

They didn’t take long to reach their destination with their fast pace. The street appeared a bit less crowded now. And there they were – the three boys sitting on the sidewalk, the horse obediently beside them. They got up in a jump.

“Here it is, sir!” The tallest presented.

“We took care of it. See?” The oldest boasted.

“Some men even wanted to take it away, but we fought valiantly!” It was the youngest’ turn to lie with a grin.

Alucard opened a small smile and took the reins again. “You did a good job, indeed. As promised, the rest of the payment.”

Their grins got even bigger when the white-haired vampire deposited two more coins each over their open palms.

The shortest of the group then cleaned his throat and stepped further towards Ruby. He had both hands behind his back and an already apparent blush over his cheeks.

“Hm, sir! Respectfully!”

“Respectfully!” The tallest one reinforced. He fiddled with his beret nervously.

“We got madame a gift!”

“Out of respect!” The oldest one reinforced again.

The three eyed Alucard with much apparent nervousness, waiting for his… permission. Ruby looked down at the boys with quiet confusion.

Oh, this was getting funny.

Alucard shrugged and nodded. The three boys smiled again and turned to Ruby. Once again, the shortest cleaned his throat.

“Madame! We were attentively taking care of the horse when we saw something that could suit you!”

“I saw it,” the oldest one elbowed him.

“But it was my idea,” the short one hissed back before turning to her again. “Anyway, hm, here it is!”

Finally, he unveiled what he was hiding behind his back in an extravagant gesture: a lily flower.

Alucard looked behind them. On the other side of the street, under a windowsill, there was a vase full of lilies. He had to cross his arms and lower his head, trying to muffle a laugh.

“It matches your ribbon, madame,” the oldest remarked.

“I was the one to pick it. None of them could reach it but me,” the tallest said with pride.

Ruby watched the three boys with a bit of shock for some seconds.

Then, she smiled.

Not one of her small, timid smiles. For the first time, that smile reached her eyes, too. For the first time, it seemed that she wasn’t embarrassed for smiling; for the first time, her giggle wasn’t dry. Wasn’t clouded by sadness.

Alucard knew that it was the first time he was seeing the real Ruby – the person she was underneath the trauma, the fear, the anxiety; the person she didn’t even know she was yet. And at that moment, the glow of the golden scepter got pale in comparison to her.

Ruby lowered herself to get to their eye level. She took the flower and placed it inside the small pocket of her vest, right above her heart.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“Victor,” the tallest said.

“Pierre,” the oldest one.

“Oliver,” the shortest.

Ruby repeated their names, then patted their heads, rubbing their hair softly.

“This is very sweet, boys. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take care of your gift.”

It looked like the three boys forgot how to close their mouths. They stared at her in awe, their faces completely red, their three little hearts beating at a rapid pace.

Alucard couldn’t blame them. Not when his own heart missed a beat.

Three hundred years didn’t make him much better than a little boy, after all.

“Ruby.” He called quietly. “We should go.” She nodded and straightened her posture. Alucard turned to the boys, and they all seemed utterly embarrassed when his gaze fell over them. “I wasn’t joking about what I said earlier. Tell your parents about it. After the sun goes down, do not leave your homes.”

The three tensed up at his words, but nodded accordingly. The short one – Oliver – seemed to be the smartest, too; he was the only one that paid attention to Alucard’s mouth and had a fast glimpse of his fangs, which made him get pale. Well… if that helped send the message across, he was fine with it. They finally started walking away.

Ruby waved them goodbye and they waved back, clumsily bumping into each other and elbowing one another. At last, they ran into the crowd again.

A ghost of that smile still lingered on her lips as she turned to him, touching the flower with care. Alucard mimicked her small smile.

“You just made their day.”

She looked shy again, and it made Alucard regret saying that a bit; he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed of herself, not after what he had witnessed. “No, you made their day by paying them.”

Alucard shook his head softly and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It doesn’t even compare.”

He looked down at her again.

This time, instead of the skirt, she gripped the scepter nervously.

Still, Alucard sustained her gaze for a few more seconds. He… enjoyed this. He liked how her attention was frozen on him, even for these brief moments. He liked the sensation of having the world around him blur as if he entered a parallel universe until she’d finally look away.

Alucard knew himself all too well. He didn’t bring himself the trouble of being in denial about anything. It was also one of the things he learned over the years, for the sake of his own sanity.

He understood why the entire mission was becoming personal to him very fast. He understood that, behind his growing anger towards Drolta and Erzsebet, there was something else growing, too – though he wasn’t sure if he’d act on it. No; it was way too early to assume anything. There were still many mysteries to solve, too much at stake, too much trust to be gained on both ends… and way too many traumas to get through, too.

For now, Alucard was satisfied with these small moments of sweetness.

Finally, he took the reins again, and then they were in a crowded street of a city in chaos, and not in a quiet parallel universe.

“Let’s go… madame,” he said jokingly, imitating the honorific the boys repeated over and over again. Ruby chuckled, at least.

Alucard was under the impression that, if Ruby knew what the implications of being called a madame meant, she wouldn’t be so calm about it.

He’d like to keep it as his little secret for now.

[tsukisangel]

gossiping with kenma

relationship ꕤ kenma x reader!

cw/tags ꕤ bokuaka mentions, fluff, gossip about friends!

wc ꕤ 636!

a/n: short lil thing while i write my new tsuki x reader fic! super super inspired by a post written by keijicentric! go follow them fr i love seeing their lil drabbles on my feed it's so fun!! @keijicentric i hope you like it and i hope this was okay lol as soon as i read that post i got inspired to write this

you rushed through your apartment, tossing your things on the couch and knocking quickly on your boyfriend’s office door. as soon as he said it was okay to come in, you slammed the door open, grinning excitedly at him. he glanced at you for a second and raised a brow. “what’s up?” he asked. you noticed behind him he was streaming, but he had turned the camera off. 

“you need to mute!” you exclaimed.

“uh, i’m in the middle of a game. can it wait until it’s over?” he asked. you quickly shook your head and he sighed. “hold on, chat.” he muted his microphone, moving one side of his headphones off his ear so he could hear you. the chat was going wild. of course, they were all wondering what was going on and what you could possibly have to say. was it good? was it bad? there were a lot of people asking if you were pregnant or if you guys had gotten married.

little did they know, it was gossip, about you and kenma’s mutual friends. “guess what i heard from kuroo at work today?!” you exclaimed.

“what?” he asked.

you took a deep breath. “akaashi asked bokuto out!” 

he raised a brow. “no. what?” he asked. “i always thought it’d be the other way around.”

“i know!” you grinned wide, sitting on his lap and getting comfortable to tell him everything. “apparently, akaashi had this whole thing planned. he got bokuto to read a book.” kenma snorted. “it was a short manga, but a book nonetheless!”

“he can’t even read a news article without falling asleep.” kenma chuckled.

“but he read it, for akaashi.” you smiled. “which is super romantic! anyway, kuroo said the book had two owls. it was a gray owl and a brown owl. it was about the owls and their story, obviously akaashi and bokuto. bokuto didn’t catch on until the last page, when the brown owl said, um,” you furrowed your brows.

“don’t tell me you forgot.” kenma sighed at you.

“no! i got it! it’s on the tip of my tongue!” he rolled his eyes and you smacked his arm. “oh! so, the brown owl says, while the owls are sitting on a tree branch i think, ‘bokuto-san, i’m in love with you’, and kuroo was told by akaashi that bokuto gave him a look with the widest eyes he’d ever seen!”

“wait, they were together while reading?” kenma asked. he had finished his game and was gently caressing your hands as the two of you gossiped about your friends.

“how do you think he finished it?” you asked.

“right.” kenma chuckled. “carry on.” 

“oh, so, that i love you page was the last page and it was this big drawing, and the owl representing bokuto had an empty speech bubble.” you grinned. “this is the best part!” you squealed. kenma nodded. “so, bokuto had looked up at akaashi with super wide eyes, then he put the book down, leaving akaashi confused of course, went and grabbed a pen, and then wrote in all capital letters, ‘i love you akaashi!’” you squealed once more, and kenma raised his brows. 

“i can’t believe he was smart enough to fill it in.” kenma joked.

“i know! it was so perfect.” you groaned.

“like when i had that game made for you when i proposed?” he asked.

you grinned. “yes!” you said happily. “it was exactly like that!” you hugged him tight. “that’s all.” you kissed his cheek and got off of his lap. “i have to shower.” you unmuted his stream. “bye, chat! have fun! don’t bully him too much!” you sang, and hummed as you walked out, closing the door.

he chuckled, turning his camera on. “don’t ask.” he said to the stream. “none of your business.”

previous work (hq boys take you to a party) | next work

[sheepispink]

hi bb, this is incredibly self-indulgent, but I have a very big idea for ur Ghost and his Sergeant. I'm terrified of the ocean so ofc I need her to be nervous over this mission that's by the coast. she's never said anything bc it's never been necessary, but she can't hide her nervousness from Ghost tho he doesn't pressure her to say anything for now. so when they're done w the mission, they all decide they'll take the next day off, and it's a given they'll go to the beach, right. I need her to be nervous but she's like, chill, staying away from the ocean, until the guys lift her up and she's like rolling her eyes until she realizes they're taking her to the ocean w quick steps, and suddenly she's SCREAMING bloody murder, and Ghost gets his head out of his ass (bc he was buying idk ice cream or a drink idk), and runs over when the guys set her down on the sand, trembling and tearing up, unable to stop herself from being weak and AHHHHHH ur writing would make this cuddle session so fucking GOOD

UR MIND IS LITERALLY AMAZING BECAUSE THIS?? THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA

anyway, as promised, plenty of fluff, plenty of comfort, very yummy story (i hope)

enjoy!!!!!

WC: 4.1k… (😧)

————-

Missions tended to blend into each other when a soldier got too comfortable—an autopilot you were happy to live with for a long time. Though, that was before you were promoted to a Sergeant which still felt like yesterday no matter how long ago it had been. You had soon learned that no day would ever be the same, especially after you were properly taken into Lieutenant Ghost’s unit, rather than the occasional team-ups. It was a big change that’s for sure; it’s not the difficulty, but rather having to prove your worth to a whole new unit. At least your old unit you were pretty much leading; this was like starting from the bottom again, in a way. It shouldn’t prove to be too hard, considering your reputation was holding up nicely.

However, you did have a small weakness; everyone did though this was one that you definitely didn’t want anyone else to be aware of any time soon. So, when the news of another mission came around, you were positive it was something you could handle. Until the news came that you’d travel by ship, having to stay on it for at least two weeks. It’s not even like you had time to process the news, bundled into a truck as you travelled down to the coast. You’d be travelling far, tracking down some bombs that are being transported on a number of different cargo ships travelling across the Atlantic ocean. More importantly was figuring out if they were actually active bombs or rather just sitting ducks–either way, it was something that needed to be dealt with immediately. Considering you had completed a course in demolitions, of course you were immediately necessary for this, so there wasnt even any backing out now. Thankfully, there was a chance you wouldn’t even have to cross over the murky waters, safe on the ship instead. Still, there was no guarantee that nothing couldn’t go wrong.

Ghost wasn’t stupid, he could clearly see just how hunched your shoulders were in every conversation, no matter where you were around the ship. He sees your small flinches everytime a small wave slightly shifts the floor beneath your feet, or the larger ones that spray onto the deck whilst you’re surveying the surroundings. Not even you can hide the quick darts of your eyes each time a small rumble of thunder sounds out overhead nor the teeth marks in your lips when you look out the window for a little too long. One thing that he couldn't possibly ignore, was the widening of your eyes and the anxious tap of your foot as you slowly filed out of the briefing the day before you departed. The only question was to confront you or not. After all, everyone has a weakness and yours may not even be that serious to compromise the mission. It seemed on the same level as getting mad at someone for being woken from a bad dream, or at least he didn't want to embarrass you by possibly blowing it out of proportion.

He was right for the most part, and you had completed the mission as expected– even if your heart was practically pumping out of your chest when you had to cross to the cargo ship and assess the crates for any trace of explosives. Since it was growing closer to summer, he figures the unit may as well stop over by the beach that’s only a one hour drive from the port. Your fellow teammates are excited of course, and so are you, happy to be on ground again even if the ocean will be metres away; anything was better than hovering above it though. As soon as you arrive, a few of the guys drag you along to a local shop, all of you filtering through the aisles to find the best floaties and water guns available.

Ghost leans against the car with his arms crossed over his chest, tapping his foot like a father with his rowdy kids. So since you all act like children, he counts down from ten, watching you and the others scurry and scramble into the seats of the cars. It’s almost laughable at how you all look, pool noodles around two soldier’s waists, water guns gripped in one of the other’s hands and wait– who put a bucket and spade in the boot?

Free for all, except this isn’t the battlefield, no it’s a damn beach and once your feet touch the warm sand, all of you are dispersing into different directions. Ghost looks around, trying to figure out where everyone went in the five seconds he turned to grab the cooler bag, only to see you lounging on a sunbed. He has to admit, he was curious as to how you’d navigate a situation like this with your clear fear. But now he can only scold himself as he slowly approaches you, your head turning before you beckon him over with a wide grin. You’re a trained soldier, you’ll be perfectly fine.. right?

He drops his duffel bag down beside you, getting comfortable on the sunbed as the others run along the beach like bumbling fools. Accidentally he must’ve let out a scoff because you laugh, turning to look at him as his brows unintentionally furrow. ��What? They’re runnin’ around like they’re six.” He says gruffly, trying to get comfortable on the small and flimsy sunbed but failing when he realises both his legs barely fit.

“You’re just boring, skullface.” You know he hates that stupid nickname, but it just motivates to use it all the more. Still, his eyes are more focused on the nervous tap of your fingers against your leg, your jaw slightly clenched as you look out at the soldiers running around near the water.

“Oh? I don't see you making sandcastles.. or splashin’ around either.” He watches you freeze at his last words, his eyebrows slighlty beginning to furrow in deep concern. You were so far from the water, practically at the top of the beach but you still looked agitated, like you were just managing to glue it all together.

”Hmph, I'm relaxing before I beat all of you in snooker tonight.” He highly doubts that’s even slightly possible, but you’re quite adamant on the former as you stretch out and get ready fro your midday nap. Of course, how could he forget your daily necessity? Regardless of that, he sticks firmly by your side, satisfied that you werent so nervous that you wouldn't be able to nap peacefully— or maybe that was because he’d scare off anyone in a 5 mile radius just with that mask alone. He settles on watching the waves lap until he gets bored enough to aimlessly scroll on his phone, unable to find anything to captivate his attention long enough. Damnit, you were rubbing off on him. After stealing your book for a bit, the heat of the sun finally sets on his nerves and he heads towards the small bar, looking for a cool drink. Just before he leaves though, he adjusts the umbrella above where you lay, a little worried that you’d overheat in your sleep but your head feels fairly cool against his hands, for now at least.

Footsteps, they’re soft in your ears muffled by rocks that are kicked. There’s small snickers too, coming from different directions and no matter where you try and run to chase one, they always appear right behind you again.

Splashing, it’s colder now, a breeze washing over your body and making you shiver.

Strain, your arms feel tight, as do your legs, like you’re being stretched like those stupid toys that were always advertised but you never actually got.

“Is she up yet?” A voice says, so close yet so far.

“Nah, still out.” Accompanied by laughter.

A splash of water on your face has you attempting to sit up only to fail immediately, your wrists locked in a tight hold, ankles kicking restlessly. “What? Who—?” Your head turns frantically, confused and instinctively wanting nothing more but to be free.

“Chill out, we’re just giving you a little diving lesson.” The soldier who you’d giggle with on patrol holds your legs, laughing at your shocked face. As you look around, you realise the fellow soldiers you’ve shared meals with for two weeks have kidnapped you from your napping spot, carrying you somewhere.

It’s fine, they’re your friends, they wont hurt you.

“Hey! I was sleeping very peacefully y’know.” You huff, playfully though still half awake, rolling your eyes as you slacken your protests.

”Yeah, drooling too.” The one holding your wrists laughs as the one walking alongside them pinches your cheeks. Damnit, they’re so damn annoying all the time arent they? Ghost’s right, they’re like little kids with the way they ran straight into the ocean—

Ocean?

Your head snaps to the side, managing to strain your neck only to see that the one holding your legs has already stepped towards the shore, water now splashing gently onto the sand beneath you. “Hey— wait, where are you taking me?” You’re thrashing around now, panic bubbling in your throat as your nails press into the soldier’s hand, scrambling for them to let go. “Oh come on, just a small splash.”

You hate their laughter, you hate this, you hate having to watch the waves rise over his foot as they carry you in, your heart thumping louder with each second. “Let me go!”

They don't listen— why wont they listen?

The water is up to his ankles, too high for your liking and you’re not scared anymore— you’re fearing the worst. Images flash through your mind, the horrible splashing of their steps louder than the pounding in your head.

You kick, wriggle, squirm, anything and it’s useless— why is it so useless?

Their steps are making droplets splash on you, the water is growing higher, ready to consume and you’re cold, too cold even with the sun burning through you. Cold with soaked cheeks.

Ghost hears the screams first, so high it almost sends him into a frenzy only nightmares have brought him crumbling to. He doesn't think, spilling the can of coke without a second thought as he runs over, sand kicking up with each heavy step of his stupid army boots he wears all the time. The crowd of soldiers are shoved to the side by his hands, carving a path directly to you who now sits in the sand right by the shore, trembling so harshly as you pull your knees to your chest, albeit with great struggle. “Woah, woah, you’re okay— you’re not wet. See? Sand, look you’re on the sand.” But you’re too far gone, your hair falling over your face as you hunch over, hands grasping at nothing but the air. Your face is starting to grow wet from the silent tears,trickling down your cheeks and kissing your legs, the wet feeling making you fear the worst has happened.

“What the hell are you all staring at?” His Lieutenant's voice comes back like it never left, the soldiers standing to attention just as fast and scrambling away before they feel the wrath of the man before them.

You’re trying your best to shovel it all in, all the fears but it’s near impossible, not when you can still hear the splashing, not when you can hear the laughter of the kids down the beach. Not here.

“Up we get, come on.” He places his hand beneath your arms and hoists you up to stand, one hand slipping behind your back to rub up and down, trying to get you to your senses. “You’re all dry, okay? Nothing happened, you’re alright.” He’s trying to keep his voice as calm as he can for you but it’s near impossible when you’re looking like that before him, like a person whose nearly missed death. Dammit, you didnt even look this bad when you were shot in the leg, and that was a pool of blood to say the least.

He leads you away from the shore, bringing you to a small cobbled footpath away from all the cafe’s, loud icecream vans and children screaming about needing to pee. His hand continues to rub slow circles, continuously soothing your trembles as he reminds you to breathe in and out. Only when everyone was out of sight did he pick you up properly, hoisting your legs to wrap around his middle as one hand pushed your face into his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you into the car, okay?” Sure he should’ve done that way earlier, clearly by the way your hands were shaking like crazy. But if he knows anything about you, he definitely knows you don't want to make a scene. Being seen as weak is practically the worst thing for you, not that he thought what happened made you weak, but he already knew what you’d be saying if he had swooped you up right then and there in front of everyone.

“Ghost— i..” You begin to sniffle out but he shakes his head, firmly patting your back in confirmation. “Nope. Quiet— don't wanna hear it.” He carries you further down the road, turning into the empty parking lot near a small block of houses. Finally he reaches the car, windows tinted to hide you as he opens the door with one hand, a low groan escaping him before he finally settles you in the backseat. Going around to the boot, he opens it quickly, grabbing a spare towel he brought and rummaging through a bag that was supposed to be for the team’s silly movie night later. Not that he’d participate, but he felt giving them some snacks would be a good mission well done.

Your eyes are locked onto your knees, refusing to look anywhere and your face has dried up, slightly red from how harshly you had rubbed at your eyes. He settles in beside you, about to offer you a drink when you’re clenching the seats, eyes already tearing up once more.

“It’s fine— really, i just- I was just a little shaken, they didn't mean it, I wasn’t properly awake yet and it startled me. ” You ramble between breaths, unable to find an excuse to rebuild your dignity in time but he just lets out a long breath, anger clearly holding back. A soft towel is draped around you, covering your upper half entirely as he folds it over your front.

“You dont need to explain. It’s fine— i dont like the damn beach either.” He mumbles out, not sure how else to express the fury he feels that you had to feel that terrified, more towards himself for leaving you alone when he knew you were uneasy. All he can do for now is place an arm around your shoulders as you continue to quietly sniffle and tremble at the shock and horror you felt in the past ten minutes. You were clearly uncomfortable too, and how badly he wanted to tell you that he didn't care if a colour terrified you, nor a tiny butterfly; he just wanted you, as with the few he really cares about, to be comfortable and happy. Never should someone have to face their fears like that, he knows what that can do to a person. But he can't word it properly, can't express how you’re the strongest he knows and the smartest and every other good adjective in the damn dictionary because you are that. And he refuses for you to believe otherwise just because the majority aren't scared of the same things you are.

Your nose presses into the sleeves of your shirt, eyes scrunched tight as you try to will the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” It’s stern, too harsh, but he doesn't know what else to do, just wanting to wipe that miserable look on your face. “There’s nothing to apologise for.. Do you need me to leave?” He asks, suddenly wondering if you’d calm down quicker if he just left you alone. Of course you would, who would want this stiff man rubbing their back while crappily convincing them that they’re not drowning and just got a scare from a stupid idiotic prank? He could at least speak a bit more, reassure you that whatever you choose is fine but nothing comes to his mouth. You shake your head thankfully, refusing to let him leave you alone.

“Are you annoyed with me?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet, and he hates that you feel this small. You should be smiling and having fun like everyone else, not tearing up infront of your lieutenant who you just barely felt comfortable around— or well, he thought that was the case.

“Never.” He says gruffly and he’s caught off guard when you hug him tightly, one that has him stuttering to breathe for a moment. Though his shock is quickly broken when your sniffles pick up, quiet sobs hitting his chest head on. He wants to complain, beg you to stop crying because not even he can bear to see you like this. But he knows whilst it pains him, you need to let it out for all the weeks you’ve been terrified for and stayed strong. His arms wrap around you just as tight, his chin resting above your head as he feels his shirt wetten by the second.

“You’re stronger than me.” He murmurs quietly, one hand gently rubbing your shoulder as he just sits there, letting you take whatever ounce of comfort you somehow receive from him. “You could’ve given up long ago but you didn't. How could I be mad at someone who's worked so hard to keep the rest of us safe even when they didnt feel safe themself?”

Oops. He might’ve made you cry a lot harder with that one, and his eyes widening show his momentary panic as he tries to soothe you again, tucking you as close as possible.

You settle a while later, pulling away just enough to wipe your reddened eyes. His eyes are softened as he looks down at you, partially glad he doesn't have to burn alive in the sun anymore and can just spend time with you in this car.. though it’s warming up pretty quickly. You seem to have the same thoughts as him because you look up, unable to stop a little smile crawling onto your lips. The sight is bright, even the tears in your eyes making them sparkle more than usual. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” He asks, hoping you’d keep doing that a little longer.

“You’re sweating like crazy..” You’re half tempted to snicker, but it comes out more like a sniffle and he just lets out a breathless sigh, rolling his eyes as he squashes your cheeks. “I do all this and that’s what you say? You’re a minx, yknow that?”

Well, he supposes it is your day off, and he’s restless as it is anyway. So, he pretends to huff at you, even if you see past him instantly, and slides out the seat beside you to get into the driver's seat. You follow, climbing into the passenger seat and he straps you in before you can even try. He rolls down the windows after he starts driving through the town, letting the summer air refresh you all while he’d occasionally look over every time he got caught in a little traffic. . But you looked like you needed a moment to gather your thoughts and yourself, so he’d give you that, for now at least.

He takes you to the nearest mall, hunting down one of those ice cream shops, but not something basic, no, that’s just boring. “Amorino?” Your voice is muffled by the skull mask he reluctantly let you borrow— but you looked uncomfortable walking around with the tear stains still on your cheeks, so he relented quickly.

“Pick your flavours.” You get your two favourites, picking them both until he urges you to pick another, not that you can decide. “Can't you just pick your favourite for me?” That’s how you end up with a cone in your hand, a pretty flower shaped ice cream right on top with each of your flavours curved into petals. He sips his milkshake, watching as you stare in complete awe as you both walk through the mall. “How— what? This is sick, Ghost!”

“If you keep staring at it, it’ll melt before you even try it.” He watches your eyes go wide, quickly licking up the sides to catch any melting parts before instantly grinning at the overwhelming sweetness. “This is like— top tier!” Though he does end up facepalming when you grip his sleeve tightly, groaning about a brain freeze.

He lets you try out the crappy claw machine games, and then even tries on one Hawaiian shirt all while you’re giggling so hard you almost trip over. He has to hold your wrist after that, but you don't complain, using it as an opportunity to drag him wherever you want, and he follows.

It’s almost seven pm, and he takes you back to the hotel since you and the team planned to get dinner. He still had to have a virtual briefing with Price, so you would be on your own for this one. They’re waiting for you in the lobby, the three culprits from before standing anxiously. “I’ll be in the car, on the phone to Price and the others.” It’s a silent offer, giving you a chance at any time to return to where he is and sit in the back if you need to get away for whatever reason. He’d prefer to be beside you, but at least this gives you a safe way out. “Alright, thanks. I’ll head in now— just make sure you grab something to eat too? Okay?” You give him a smile, before you awkwardly step inside the hotel, approaching the others. Ghost’s hands tense, fists clenching as he watches for any sign of the idiots acting up again. Thankfully, they learnt their lesson and they immediately apologise to you, frowns on all their faces before lighting up when you extend your forgiveness to them. You were scared they’d laugh at you, but Ghost knew that they saw you like a little sister— even if they were absolute idiots sometimes. He decides to leave you after watching you leave the hotel with them, heading for a restaurant down the street as you link arms with a female soldier you know, grinning.

It’s late when he hears a soft rap at the hotel room door, confused at who could possibly knock at this hour. “It’s me, Lt.” Werent you supposed to be watching movies with the others?

“Come in.”

You open the door with the keycard he gave you earlier, dressed in your pajamas and with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. Quietly you walk over to where he lays on the bed, settling on the other side as you place the bowl between the two of you. This is how it goes for the next twenty minutes or so, you scrolling through your phone and watching stupid videos as you nibble on the popcorn all while he continues to read his book, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn just to keep you happy. It only ends when he catches you yawning from the corner of his eye, one, twice and thrice. “You should get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” He hums, flicking to the next page as he continues to read but the words aren't really going to his head in the slightest, his mind fixated on you.

“Hm.. okay.” You sigh, before placing your phone onto the bedside table and tucking yourself beneath his blankets, now watching him from your

position smushed against his pillow.

“You have your own bed, Sergeant.” He states, raising a brow but he’s particularly careful not to lower nor raise his voice, keeping it central as he looks at you and closes his book.

“Hey, you said I was welcome if it was an emergency.”

He did say that, perhaps a long, long time ago when you first came bundling into his life before he even knew you that well. Besides, it’s not like he planned to actually kick you out. So for now he just lets out an empty scoff, goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth before turning the lights off by the switch. The room is shrouded by darkness and you look around, wondering where he went, when two arms wrap around your front, bringing you forward against his chest. “Don’t make me regret this.” He says gruffly, but you know he doesn't care all that much, and he knows that your playful facade is trying to hide the trembles that still linger in your hands when you hear the ocean lap outside your room’s window. Tonight, he’s holding you tight and never letting you go; he’d be found dead before he ever lets anything snatch you, whether that be the ocean, someone, or even fear itself.

———

COD masterlist

[ssentimentals]

Hiii!! It is been a long time since i got here 🤧, I hope you are doing good. I saw the new request prompts and the number 47. Sickfic/caretaking has attracted my attention, so I was going to ask you if you could write a woozi x reader who has bad migraines and maybe it is mixed this time with back pain.

You can change it if it is too specific or do not do it if you don't feel like it!!

hiii angel, you should come here more often 💜 i am good, hope you're well too! i definitely can, thank you for requesting!

prompt: sickfic/caretaking

woozi could see it. you tried your best to hide it and he gotta give it to you - it took him few days to catch up. he hates how you go all out to help and support others, but don't let others do the same for you, always ignoring your problems because they are not 'big enough'. he knows that probability of you admitting you're in pain is as low as snow during summer, but he still tries: 'how are you feeling, babe?'

you look up from your laptop, your face illluminated by blue screen. you were grimacing few seconds earlier but now you're trying to smile at him: 'all good, just a bit tired.'

your lie falls flat. woozi is always careful, always tries not to voerstep and make you start lecturing him on whole 'i am independent and strong woman, i can take care of myself' thing but his patience snaps. without saying anything he comes closer and points at your laptop: 'save your work. save your work and close your laptop.'

you blink at him. 'what-'

'do it yourself before i take that laptop away and just turn it off without saving shit,' he bites, not caring that his tone is off. 'you work can wait, we need to stop your migraine first.' at this your eyes widen and woozi quirks an eyebrow at you: 'you hid those pills well, baby, but not well enough.'

you have nothing to say. those migraines started few days ago and yesterday they got so bad that your eyes dtarted watering against your will. add back pain on top of that and you turned into a one big exposed nerve and you knew that your boyfriend saw right through you and your attempts to hide it. lie that you're fine is on your tongue but you swallow it, following woozi to the bedroom. you don't like admitting but it feels nice to be taken care of, to have someone else fret over you. woozi is not very expressive, but you can feel all of his feelings even when he doesn't say much. right now you know that he's worried and annoyed at your for not saying anything, for example.

'we can try cold and hot packs on your neck, which one do you prefer?' he asks in a business tone. when you get under the covers, his hands instantly smooth the blanket and he fluffs the other pillow, making sure you're comfortable. 'i'll turn off the light, do you want lavender oil? i'm not giving you another pill, i'm sure you've taken plenty already.'

'cold pack,' you answer, grimacing when back echoes in pain once you fully lie down. 'and no oil for now, i think.'

woozi nods and quickly gets to work. in few minutes you have cold pack pressed to your neck, light turned off and window open. he places cup with a herbal tea nearby and gingerly lies down. woozi is not used to seeing you like this - his usually strong girl never looks this fragile. it pains and angers him; he reaches out to take your hand in his. 'never hide this from me,' he asks quietly with a slight tremor in his voice. 'i don't want you to suffer alone. i'm always here to help you.'

'it's just a migraine,' you whisper and a sudden pain that shoots from your neck straight to your head makes you gasp. 'oh god.'

'nothing is 'just' when it comes to you,' he mutters and leans closer, worried. 'is cold pack not helping? if it's very bad-'

'give it time,' you interrupt. 'ten minutes or so. we can change it to hot pack if this one won't work.' you open your eyes, squinting at him. 'i am sorry for not telling you sooner. i thought it'd go away. didn't want to bother you.'

'you never bother me,' he instantly says, scowling. 'stop thinking that. nothing about you is ever a bother. let me take care of you.'

you sigh and close your eyes. a bit later you feel cold lips pressed on your forehead. woozi kisses your forehead, tip of your nose, both of your cheeks. you smile and lips press on yours in a light kiss. 'try to sleep,' woozi whispers. 'i will change packs. rest, baby.'

'i love you,' you whisper back without opening your eyes. cold pack helps with the tension, easing the pain. 'thank you.'

'i love you more, my strong girl.' woozi kisses your forehead once more. 'now rest. i'll be right here when you wake up.'

putting his phone on 'do not disturb' woozi lies down next to you and carefully wraps one arm around you. he'll be right here for you even if you can't ask that out loud. he'll still be here.

a/n: hopefully you liked it!! - nini

request your own here

my other seventeen work is here

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 1: Sugared Coffee

Criminal Minds : Multishot

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 7554

Warnings: set around season 3 {aka 2007}, slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, pining on Reid’s part, phobia of needles, PTSD, usual criminal minds level of violence and creepy unsubs, mentions of serial killers and the sick things they do, panic attacks, statistics and quotes I can provide references for

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: While taking a break from writing my Teen Wolf series, I stumbled onto this little idea 😅 I've been in love with Spencer Reid since 15 years old - and I still haven't written a series with him... WHICH IS A CRIME

~~~

The Quantico buildings stood out pale and dim within the autumn trees. The dead, fall colors of red and orange encased the sidewalks and scented the air with a farmstead crispness. It was a smell you knew you wouldn’t forget as you stood before the main building.

Dressed in a blue button down and a black blazer, you thumbed the plastic sleeve of your new badge. FBI, it said in blue block letters, Behavioral Analysis Unit. This was a step closer to your new life.

Maybe this will be your chance to catch the son of a bitch. Maybe this will be your chance to stop others in the meantime. Maybe this is your chance to stay safe with a new team and a new badge, stifling the feeling of fear that always rested in your diaphragm.

For now you know you will always remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

~~~

The office felt slower than usual, which could be seen as a reprieve, but it made the team restless. Most of them were catching up on paperwork, or at least taking their time with details. Reid had flown through a list of research papers and true crime novels by the time lunch rolled around.

“I thought we all had paperwork to do.” Prentiss called over, rubbing an ink smudge on her finger, “How come you’re reading crime fiction?”

Reid’s finger stopped running midway through a page in his book. “It’s not fiction, this is a true crime biography written by O.J. Simpson about if he hypothetically committed the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows, tossing her pen onto her desk, “If I was found not guilty for a murder, I would try to put the whole thing behind me. Not write a book detailing what I would do if I actually did it.”

“You finished your paperwork?” Morgan asked, entering the bullpen with a yellow pad of paper. He tore off the top page and sat across from Reid. “I thought you were a speed reader, not a speed writer.”

“I have a lot of free time at home,” Reid said, looking down at his book again.

Morgan laughed, balling up the yellow piece of paper and tossing it at Reid’s head. “Pretty boy needs a pretty girl in his life.”

Reid swatted at where the paper ball bounced off his face. “Stop finding reasons to avoid your work.”

“Woah,” Morgan grinned, “Someone’s a little feisty today.”

“You would be too if someone kept interrupting you while you’re trying to read.”

“Hey, have you heard if that new recruit is coming in today?” Prentiss asked, laying back in her chair and massaging her writing hand.

Morgan shrugged, twisting around in his own chair, “Hotch said interviews ended over a week ago.”

“They’re being pretty secret about the whole thing,” Prentiss went on, “Makes you wonder who they are.”

“I heard Rossi had something to do with it,” Morgan said, “Persuaded Hotch to make the unpopular choice.”

Reid closed his book, unable to concentrate, “That would mean the new guy has a personal connection with Rossi.”

“New girl, it seems,” Morgan said, eyes moving to the office doors to find Hotch escorting a professionally dressed woman.

Reid looked over as well, noticing a few things immediately, profiler that he was. This new recruit held herself tall, speaking of her confidence entering the room. Although her eyes were open wide as if she were trying to see everything all at once. It gave her expression the look of being frightened.

But the hesitant smile on her face spoke of kindness.

She was a walking contradiction. Her handshake was firm, shoulders squared, voice steady and confident. But her breath was shallow, and her eyes gave the appearance of a deer stuck in the headlights.

The conclusion was that this new recruit was confident in her abilities and wanted to be there. But she felt like she had to prove herself, terrified that something would cause her to be kicked off the team.

“This is SSA Derek Morgan,” Hotch introduced, “And SSA Emily Prentiss.”

“Hello,” the new recruit said, shaking each hand.

“And Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch gestured towards him, “We’ve found you some competition.”

The girl looked at Reid with a wide smile and it struck him how pretty she was. He blinked dumbly a few times, face blank when he replied, “Competition?” His throat felt incredibly dry.

“This is SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Hotch continued, “I was just telling her how we had an early graduate already on our team.”

Reid cleared his throat to combat the dryness, “You graduated school early?”

She nodded slowly, “Highschool and college.” She was quiet – shy in stating her accomplishments.

Hotch continued for her, “Had her bachelor’s degree by eighteen.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, rushing out, “And my master’s degree by twenty-two.”

“Our genius beats you by a few years,” Morgan grins.

“The eidetic memory helps,” Prentiss scoffs.

(Y/N) smiled again, “It’d be nice to bounce ideas off another brainiac.” She regards Reid with a warmer expression.

He was suddenly overcome with a sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her face somewhere before. He ran her name through his mind, trying to remember if he had read it or just heard it before.

“Speechless, Reid?” Morgan asked, grinning like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Everyone laughed as Reid tried to clear his mind. (Y/N) was looking at him with such fondness, he hoped it wasn’t pity for his strange and endearing behavior. He surprised himself by realizing he wanted her to like him. Like him a lot.

~~~

You leaned into the cushions of the jet seats, fingers running along your ribcage, at the little scar you knew was there. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you could.

“Alright, so families are being targeted in their homes with variations of the anthrax bacteria,” Hotch said, leading the team in the next case. “What do we notice about these cases?”

“These don’t seem like full scale terrorist attacks that are usually associated with anthrax,” Morgan said, flipping through the files, “But these could just be test subjects before some biological warfare.”

“Being isolated to just families within their homes gives the appearance of a simple virus passing through,” Prentiss said, “Usually when one family member gets sick they assume everyone will eventually.”

Rossi sighed, “Which kept families from reporting to the hospital until it was too late.”

“It’s also interesting that the unsub is using different anthrax forms,” J.J. continued, looking at the case photos with disgust, “Maybe they’re testing the effectiveness of each.”

Reid had a few knuckles resting against his chin, “We’ve seen inhalation anthrax in previous attacks, which affects the lungs of the infected and presents as flu-like symptoms.”

“There’s also intestinal anthrax, which comes from ingesting the bacteria,” you say quickly, “As well as cutaneous anthrax, which only affects the skin.”

“But we all know that inhalation anthrax is the deadliest,” Hotch said, “It’s been reported as the most fatal.”

“So why is the unsub using these different forms?” Morgan asked.

You thumb through the victim photos, “Maybe the unsub isn’t testing anything. Maybe they just enjoy infecting the family and watching the chaos ensue.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked.

You sigh, feeling the attention being placed on you. A few of your fingers search for the little scar against your ribcage, tracing the slightly raised skin beneath your shirt. “If the goal of infecting the victims is to kill them, then using cutaneous or intestinal anthrax isn’t optimal. As soon as a cutaneous rash or ulcer appears, then you treat it with topical antibiotics and survival is very likely. And the only way intestinal anthrax will kill is if it somehow enters the bloodstream.”

“They could be enjoying the panic of sick families,” Rossi muttered to himself.

“The unsub might be using those forms in addition to inhalation because they want to see ultimate suffering,” you continue.

Morgan leaned forward, “Start with inhalation to incapacitate the victims. Then infect them with the other forms later.”

Hotch nodded in agreement, “Good work, (Y/N). I don’t think we are afraid of a terrorist attack. This is an unsub that enjoys isolating and infecting whole families.”

You swallow hard, proud of yourself for having an idea that might be plausible. This only being your third case with the team meant still trying to find your place among them.

Morgan was relaxed across from you, watching you for a few seconds, “You okay?”

You snap your eyes to him, “Yeah, why?”

He shrugged, looking down to your hand, “You have a nervous tick.”

Your hand instantly left the little scar you often traced, “Don’t we all?” you try to smile, “This is a time sensitive case.”

“Most of them are,” Morgan said, observing you, “There’s something you especially don’t like about this one.”

“What gives you that impression?” you ask, monitoring your own actions to try not to give yourself away.

“I don’t know you all that well…” he said.

You shake your head quickly, “No, you don’t.”

“… but I’ve seen you in some high stress situations the last couple of weeks. And I’ve noticed when you’re a little shaken.”

You close the case file, staring down at it with some apprehension. “Another form of anthrax is injection.”

Morgan looked at you with confusion, “Like with a needle?”

“That’s enough,” Rossi said from a few seats away, “Isn’t there a rule about profiling each other?”

“Papa Rossi to the rescue,” Morgan said with a small smile. “I was just concerned, that’s all.”

You give him a little nod, “I get it.” You give Rossi a stern, knowing look and he waved away your glare.

“We should grab a drink sometime,” Morgan continued, flashing his eyes in Reid’s direction. “It’d be nice to get to know you more.”

You laugh, “The most exciting thing about me, Derek, is this job.”

“Still,” Morgan stretched, “Where you from?”

A little huff escaped your lips as the jet began its descent, “Arizona.”

“What part?”

“Flagstaff,” you say slowly, “Why does this sound like an interrogation?” You were smiling, almost encouraging Morgan’s teasing tone.

“Family? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “Parents back home. And no.” You notice how Reid suddenly put down the book he was reading to give his undivided attention.

“Alright.”

A laugh escapes you, “That’s all you wanted to know?”

“For now, sweetheart,” he said, giving a wink to Reid when you looked away. “Prentiss and I can scope out the first victim’s house.”

Hotch nodded, watching the jet get closer to the ground, “Good. Rossi, you and J.J. can look at the second victim’s house. Reid and (Y/N) – you two can go to the hospital to get more information on the symptoms and treatment of the victims. I’ll set up base at the local police station.”

Morgan seemed pleased about something as he got ready for the landing. Reid gave a little wave to you but seemed embarrassed by the action as he looked away immediately.

~~~

You sit behind the wheel of the SUV, Reid in the passenger seat twiddling his thumbs in his lap. You could tell he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. If you had it your way, you’d prefer to keep your silence while he rambled on about whatever was on his mind.

That way you wouldn’t have to talk. The less you talk the less likely you’ll share something you would regret.

“I found out recently that there’s a stage theatre in Virginia that puts on Shakespeare plays,” you say quietly.

Reid turns to you with raised eyebrows, “The Blackfriars Playhouse?”

You nod, “I hear it’s the world’s only re-creation of Shakespeare’s indoor theatre.”

“Yes, it started out as a traveling troupe that performed in countries around the world. They were taken in by the International Shakespeare Globe Centre and featured in England. In 1999 they changed their name to Shenandoah Shakespeare and moved to Staunton, Virginia. It took two years for the Blackfriars Playhouse to be built, and since then they’ve rebranded as the American Shakespeare Center that educates aspiring actors and performs using Renaissance rehearsal practices to showcase Shakespeare’s greatest works on their Globe Theatre stage.”

You start to relax against the wheel, “I saw somewhere that they’re having a year long conference.”

Reid was getting all excited, sitting on the edge of his seat and smiling with his words, “They are! The ASC is partnering with Shakespeare’s Globe in London. You’re a fan of Shakespeare?”

You give a polite nod, “As long as it’s on the stage. Shakespeare was meant to be watched, not just read.”

“Exactly!” he was thrilled to find something in common with you. “What is your favorite play?”

“Probably Much Ado About Nothing.”

“A comedy,” Reid said, “It’s one of my favorites too. Did you know that Much Ado About Nothing is considered one of Shakespeare’s greatest comedies? Although a similar trope of a happy ending, united lovers, and a villain receiving justice is seen in both The Merchant of Venice and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Much Ado About Nothing also features more prose than just about any other Shakespearean play.”

You smile, confused, “Prose?”

“Prose is the written or spoken language in its ordinary form, meaning without the use of a metrical structure. It follows the natural flow of speech and differs from most traditional poetry. Much Ado About Nothing is about 75% prose and only 25% actual poetry verse. Verse is used to express more emotional statements, so that essentially proves how much of a comedy the play is because 75% of the material is used to express whimsical thoughts.”

You kept smiling, turning to enter the hospital parking lot. “I had no idea.”

It was quiet for a second before Reid cleared his throat, “I was rambling, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I like it.”

Reid squirmed in his seat, warmth blooming in his chest, “I’m sorry, I should give you more of a chance to talk. Did you bring up the Blackfriars Playhouse because you wanted to see a show?”

You open the car door, “Maybe. Let’s get this over with.”

He scrambles out of the car, readjusting his side bag. “Okay.” You could tell he wanted to continue your conversation, but you brushed it off as you both enter the building to talk to the chief of the hospital.

You held back a shiver as you meet with staff in the urgent care ward. They told you of the severity of the anthrax murders, the horrific symptoms presented in the victims. They confirmed how quickly the bacteria affects a person and travels to everyone within a household.

“It would be easily transmitted between family members,” the doctor expressed.

“We believe the man we’re looking for is entering the home and tainting their food, infecting their air conditioning units, and injecting them in their sleep,” Reid says.

The doctor nods, “I can say the inhalation infection was there the longest, meaning it was the first form used. Cutaneous infection through injections hasn’t been present as long.”

“Meaning the unsub is entering the house a second time to infect them with a different form,” you say, “This guy likes to stick around and watch.” You trace the little scar against your ribcage, fingers lowering to another pinprick scar against your abdomen.

“Thank you for your time,” Reid said, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Of course,” the doctor said, “And before I forget, your unit chief wanted your team treated to prevent an anthrax infection.”

Reid nodded in understanding, but you start to seize, “How?”

A nurse leaves to grab some supplies as the doctor states calmly, “Antibiotics and the anthrax vaccine. We usually only recommend it for individuals that are at risk.”

“And that comes in a pill form?” you ask quickly. Reid looks at you suddenly from your tone of voice.

“The antibiotics do,” the doctor says, pulling out some paperwork, “But the vaccine comes in an injection.”

Pain enters your side. You know it’s most likely a phantom pain, but you can’t escape the feeling of terror bubbling in your diaphragm. It popped and sizzled into your lungs, bringing you back to the familiar sensation of your lungs being punctured.

You attempted to mask the reaction – hold back the sweat wetting your palms and creeping up your neck. You cooled your tone as you cleared your throat. You didn’t even want to see the vaccine.

Reid was being directed to sit down and roll up his sleeve, which he did while keeping his eyes trained on you. You didn’t want to see the confusion and worry in his face.

You run your fingers through your hair, holding back the shakiness of your hands, “I uh… I need to run to the bathroom real quick.”

You didn’t hear any response as you sped to the nearest bathroom. White noise was buzzing in your ears, dots of pain appearing across your front, like little beestings. You knew it was just a memory, and you clenched either side of the porcelain sink telling yourself that.

Of course you knew a spiral was going to happen. It was one of the main reasons Hotchner didn’t want to hire you in the first place. But you had hoped you’d be a few more cases in before it happened. 

You breathed through the terror, splashed your face with cold water, and flexed your fingers. You grounded yourself with your surroundings: Tiled floors, white walls, soap scum on the sink, faint bleach smell, water dripping down the drain.

Straightening out, you took a deep breath, no sharp stabbing pain – the fear trickling back into its containment in your diaphragm.

You straighten the hairs framing your face, wiping the speckle of water against your chin. Your phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, gorgeous,” came a bright sing-song voice, “How’s my new bestie?”

A smile finally breaks the grimness of your face, “Garcia.”

“Yeah, hi – Hotch is asking that everyone meets back at the station. We just found a connection between the families. They’re both customers of the same plumbing company.”

“Which would give someone access to their drinking water and air conditioning.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about infecting the water supply,” Garcia said, a smile clear in her voice, “I knew boy genius was going to have some competition with you.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” you say, sliding the phone back in your pocket. You exit the bathroom and find Reid waiting by the front doors. His face was placid, but his brow furrowed upon seeing you.

His throat bobbed before he spoke. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Hotch wants us back at the police station.” You walked right past him and out to the parking lot.

Reid had to jog to catch up to you, pointing back at the hospital, “Did you get the vaccine?”

“I’m fine,” you say, getting in the car, “The team made a connection between the victims.”

It was obvious that he didn’t believe you, but he was too intimidated by your evasion that he kept his mouth shut. The warmth that bloomed in his chest at sharing a car ride with you was still there. He wanted it to stay – he didn’t want to jeopardize the possible friendship growing between you.

Looking at you drive, more tense than he’s seen you before, he was struck again with how familiar you were. Whether your name or your face, he didn’t know but he could’ve sworn he’d heard of you before.

It had only been a few weeks, but he knew he already had it bad. He was becoming infatuated with you.

~~~

The team had dispersed again, taking part in investigating new suspects at the plumbing company. (Y/N) and Hotch were in the next room interrogating a lead while Reid updated the geographical profile in their office.

Rossi was confirming their suspicions that another family might be targeted in the next 24 hours.

Reid capped a marker and cleared his throat, “You knew (Y/N) before she joined the BAU.”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, immediately suspicious, “What of it?”

“It’s just…” Reid continued, sitting down at the table, “I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it.”

“I thought you remembered everything.”

“I remember what I read, but I think her name is something I’ve heard before.”

Rossi put his files down, giving his full attention, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I have a feeling she’ll deflect.”

“So you’re trying to go behind her back?”

Reid sighed, “No, I just… she worried me a little at the hospital. I know something is wrong.”

That sparked some interest in Rossi. He leaned forward, “What happened?”

“She basically ran away when the doctor said we needed to get a shot. She says she got one, but I think she was lying.”

Rossi was quick to answer, “A lot of people don’t like getting shots.”

“No, it was the way she reacted,” he said quietly, “It was more than just a phobia. And I know she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.”

Reid looked up hopefully, “What?”

“Be a good friend and respect her wishes.”

“You’re not going to tell me how you know her, are you?” Reid said, disappointed.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Rossi shrugged, “But if she’s lying about getting the vaccine, then I might talk to her. We don’t want her contracting anthrax because of a fear.”

Reid twiddled his thumbs, giving his best puppy-dog stare, “Not even a hint?”

It pulled a chuckle out of Rossi, “You like this girl.”

“Did Morgan tell you that?”

“It’s not so hard to figure out,” the old man smiled, “I’ll give you some advice. (Y/N) is a driven and stubborn woman. She’s never liked being told what she can and can’t do. But that’s only what’s on the surface. (Y/N) is one of the kindest, quirkiest, most considerate people I know. You just need to get past the hard outer shell.”

Reid nodded to himself, “We talked about Shakespeare in the car today.”

“You did?” Rossi seemed surprised, “That was quick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve already found a nerdy part of her. I thought she’d guard that for a while longer.” He was amused by the giddy happiness that entered Reid’s face, “There might be hope for you yet, kid.”

It wasn’t much later that Hotch figured out that you hadn’t taken any preventative measures against the anthrax. He ordered you back to the hospital or else stay off the case until they caught the unsub. He wasn’t going to take any chances when working with such a serious bacteria.

You, being the stubborn newbie that you are, bit your tongue and quieted the fear beginning to brew below your ribcage.

Taking advantage of the situation, Reid stepped up to escort you to the hospital. It was a quiet and tense ride to the urgent care, Reid attempting to find a way to express his concern.

“Not a fan of needles?” he asked with a lighter inflection.

You hold back a scoff, “Not really.” Your fingers are knotted and pressed tightly against your stomach.

Reid tried to keep his eyes on the road, “I don’t like them much either.”

“It’s silly, really,” you say, closing your eyes.

“No, it’s not. Everyone is afraid of something,” he rushed out, stopping you from diminishing your feelings. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

You swallow hard, “Really?”

“Some would say that’s ridiculous now that we’re adults. But you never know what’s lurking in the dark.”

It was silent for another minute before you took a shaky breath, “I have a pretty severe phobia.”

“Of what?”

You lick your lips, “Any kind of needle. Sewing needles, knitting needles, safety pins, thumbtacks, you name it. I can’t… they remind me…” You clamp your mouth shut.

Reid was hesitant but wanted to encourage you to continue, “You know you’re part of a team now. Whatever we share with each other is in confidence. We all have your back.”

I have your back, he wanted to say, You can trust me.

You tighten your hands, “They remind me of a dark place. I don’t like going there.”

Reid flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. He blinked hard before muttering, “I’ll be there with you.”

You both entered the hospital with Reid having a hand hovering against your back. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted to. He walked beside you, guiding you to sit in a chair. As soon as the nurse appeared with a sterile metal tray, you turned your head away.

Reid sat beside you, addressing the nurse.

“Afraid of needles?” she asked.

You didn’t respond so Reid said, “A little.”

“Don’t worry, honey, this will be over in a second. Just a little pinch.” She noticed how shallow your breathing had gotten, “Remember to breathe, sweetie.”

You nod, jumping when the cold wet of the alcohol wipe touched your exposed shoulder. Reid watched you tense up, gripping the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t sure what was overstepping boundaries, but he felt compelled by the concern eating him up to grab your hand.

His fingers wrapped around yours and he was relieved to find you clutching back at him. As soon as the injection touched your arm, a gasp escaped you. You were shaking in his hand and your face was screwed up against the sharp pain.

Reid never took his eyes off your face, worried at how severe your reaction was. He realized you were holding your breath as the nurse put a band-aid on your arm.

“Breathe, (Y/N),” he said quietly, “Remember to breathe.”

You inhale sharply, “Is it over?”

“Yes,” Reid said in his same calming tone, “And you’re okay. We’re all done.”

You open your eyes, finding Reid looking at you with a deep level of concern. He hadn’t let go of your hand yet and you found that grounding yourself was easier this time. No white noise filled your ears, no phantom pinpricks of pain stabbed your abdomen.

You focused on your surroundings: Reid’s warm hand holding yours, the smell of sugared coffee and mahogany on his collar, the slow breaths filling his chest, and the heat of him nearly pressed against your arm.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “That wasn’t so bad with you here.”

His heart soared out of his chest, a smile wide on his face, “Anytime.”

~~~

A month later you were settling into the team more and more. You had found little blossoms of friendship among your coworkers, except for Rossi who was determined to remain your second father.

You felt more at ease the longer time passed without suspicion about your hiring process. Though that could mean a higher chance of a slip up.

“You. Up. Drinks. Now,” Morgan had pointed a finger at you and gestured to the elevators where some of the team stood.

“Derek,” you sighed, leaning in your chair, “You know the club isn’t my kind of scene.”

He shook his head, smiling, “Not today, angel face. You’ve had an excuse the last four weekends and I know for a fact you were planning on spending your evening alone, reading and drinking your tea.”

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to where Reid was talking to Prentiss. You had told him earlier that day of your excitement to have a free weekend to read.

“Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Come on, pretty boy will only go if you go,” Morgan said.

And now you sat at a dimly lit table, waiting for your drink as Morgan was having a dance off with Prentiss out on the floor. She shoved him over and right into the nearest beautiful woman. Derek raised his eyebrows and sent Emily a little ‘thank you’ as he began dancing sensually with his new partner.

Emily rolled her eyes and went to find her own dance partner.

Over at the bar was J.J. and Garcia, no doubt discussing the latest Quantico gossip. Garcia, with a thin black straw between her teeth, slack jawed at the whisperings of J.J.’s news. It made you smile knowing that the analyst would corner you later to tell you what she had learned.

The low lights included a mixture of purple and blue, setting a cool tone around the people sitting at tables. You run your fingers along the table surface, noticing Reid making his way to you with two drinks.

“You look bored,” he said with a close lipped smile.

You accept the drink gratefully, “I told Derek I’m not a fan of drinks.”

“Then why did you agree to come?”

Because I knew you wouldn’t have a good time if I didn’t. You swallow, stirring your drink around with the straw, “My parents tell me I should go out every once in a while or I’ll never make any friends.”

He huffed a laugh, “You talk to your parents a lot?”

“I would every day if I let them have their way.”

“Are you close?”

You shrug your shoulders, “They worry about me.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Don’t start the profiling questions,” you say with a smirk, “But yes, I am an only child.”

Reid nods, his face heating up at being chastised. “There are a lot of studies on the effects of only children.”

“You going to say I’m a stereotypical only child that experiences overprotectiveness and spoiling from my two loving parents?”

“No,” Reid said calmly, “There are actually many studies that disprove that stereotype. Professor Toni Falbo from the University of Texas found that ‘across all developmental outcomes, only children were indistinguishable from firstborns and people from small families.’ And clinical psychologist Linda Blair wrote about how ‘parents can focus all their time and energy on an only child,’ which means they get valuable relationship time where ‘they just feel valued’, not just a sense of being overprotected. I think your parents might worry about you because of a different reason.”

You try to contain your smile, “No, they’re definitely just overprotective of me.”

“But then something must’ve happened to have them be overprotective of you. It couldn’t just be because you’re an only child.”

You take a sip of your drink, slowly nodding your head. Be careful. Don’t slip up. “A little bit of both.” You cleared your throat, “You know what show I just started?”

Reid took note of the change of subject, “What?”

“Doctor Who.”

His face split open into the biggest smile, “Really? The series from 1963 or the revamped series from 2005?”

“I just started the Tenth Doctor,” you say, matching his smile, “I think I like David Tennant more.”

Reid looked about ready to burst with the amount of information he knew about the topic. He started stuttering over his words, twiddling his fingers in the air as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“My favorite is by far the Fourth Doctor played by Tom Baker. He’s the longest running Doctor on the series, having starred in seven seasons between 1974 and 1981. He is the most recognizable Doctor internationally with his famous multicolored scarf. I think his most popular companions are K-9 and…”

“… Sarah Jane!” you say enthusiastically, “Yeah, they were both in the last season with the Tenth Doctor.”

“Yes, yes!” he said happily, “That’s one of the greatest things about Doctor Who – they bring back timeless characters and stories through the years. It’s why you have to watch the originals!”

You laugh at his endearing blabber, “Go back to black and white television?”

“It’s classic,” he retorts, “Sure the BBC didn’t give them much of a budget at first, but the black and white helps hide the poor quality of the sets and costumes. And television back then wasn’t designed to be binged like today, so many of the stories aren’t cohesive, but that’s the beauty of it. It’s history in the making – you can see the progress of a single character and their life over almost fifty years! It’s fascinating.”

You nod slowly, tickled by Reid’s eagerness, “Alright. Maybe I’ll try to watch them.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to talk to you about the Master and the evolution of the Daleks and the effects of the Time War.”

Another laugh escapes you as you continue to stir your drink with the straw, staring at the ice cubes tink against the glass.

It got quiet as Reid stewed in the slight embarrassment that itched his stomach as his excitement wore off. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I rambled.”

“I told you I like it,” you say, finally looking at him in that dimly lit bar, “I like seeing you get all excited about stuff. It makes me want to get excited about it too.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t do things just because I like them.”

“Why not?” you say firmly, “What if I want us to share something?”

He was caught off guard by that, blinking hard a few times. “You want us to share something?”

You take another sip of your drink. It was getting watered down now by the melting ice. “I told you I need more friends,” you smile at him, “My parents are worried, remember?”

Reid’s throat bobbed, thoughts of spending long nights cuddled on the couch and watching old shows on a black and white television disappear in an instant. His hopes of taking her on a date to the Blackfriars Playhouse to see her favorite play were being diminished, the tickets of said show burning in his back pocket. The want to brew her a cup of tea and share an evening reading books together, maybe even holding hands across their reading chairs, ached in his chest.

“Friends,” he said quietly, “Right.”

~~~

Not long after the bar trip, you invited Reid over to your apartment for one of your reading sessions.

When you opened the door to find him with nearly ten books piled in his arms, you laughed. “You’re gonna out read me 10 to 1.”

He gave a close lipped smile, fighting back the embarrassment of his quirks. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You sat on one end of the couch, thumbing the edge of your fiction book. “I put a kettle on,” you said gesturing to the stove, “If you want to have a cup of tea with me.”

Reid took off his satchel, setting his books on a side table, “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

“Yeah,” you say smiling, “More like a sugar guy with some coffee beans on the side.”

You’re suddenly struck with another memory. Just like how you remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

You remember that the first time you were able to easily ground yourself from PTSD, it smelled like sugared coffee.

As the kettle started screaming with steam, you went to stand until Reid started waving you down, “No, no – you’re already sitting. I’ll get the tea.”

And as he passed you by, it smelled like sugared coffee again, “But you don’t even want any.”

He didn’t respond, smiling to himself as he filled a waiting teacup with boiling water. A little cannister of teabags sat beside the stove. “Did you know that tea is the second most popular drink in the world? The first being water.”

“So my preferred drink is more popular than yours?” you say teasingly as he came around the couch with the steaming cup.

“That’s because the Asia Pacific is a dominant region for tea, and that accounts for over 4 billion people, which is around 60% of the world’s population. Not to mention that around 68% of people in the United Kingdom drink at least one tea per day, and that’s about 61 million people. That puts the tea industry slightly above the coffee.” He handed you the teacup, his fingertips burning where they brushed up against yours, and not because the drink was hot.

“You could just say tea is better than coffee, it’s okay,” you say, blowing before taking a sip.

Reid held back a smile, sitting on the other side of the couch, “Maybe not better… but more popular.”

You bickered with smiles on your faces for a couple more minutes before cracking open your books. You’re giggling as you toss your bookmark at him, “Just shut up and read your books.”

He laughed at you, trying to get comfortable on his side, crossing his spindly legs.

The pair of you sat in a comfortable silence as the sun dipped lower behind the blinds. Reid had blown throw two psychology textbooks and another true crime book written by a favorite author. You had gotten through maybe seventy pages of your adult fantasy novel.

Reid thought he would’ve gotten through six books by then, but he kept getting distracted by you. The thought of reaching over and holding your hand as you read was overwhelming. He wanted to sit closer, rub shoulders with you, peer over and read the same page as you, wait for you to finish before he turned the page for you.

He wanted to catch your eyes drooping with sleep and then offer to read aloud to you as you drift off against him. He wanted to drape a blanket around you both and help you sip tea so you wouldn’t have to take your arms out from under the warmth. He wanted to hear you read your favorite lines to him. He wanted to see you shift into a more comfortable reading position, grumbling about aching wrists. He wanted to read your book just so he could talk to you about it.

He wanted you.

It was getting painful how much he wanted you.

The bookmark he was using was the two tickets to the Blackfriars Playhouse. They blared at him like a beacon sitting on the side table.

But then something remarkable happened. From your scrunched up position on the opposite side of the couch, you crept your feet across the seat cushions until they reached Reid. You then tucked your cold toes under his thigh.

He abruptly looked at you with raised eyebrows.

You shrugged your shoulders, attempting to look innocent. “My feet are cold.”

He fought a huge smile, “And you don’t have a blanket?”

“Why would I need a blanket when you’re here?” You said it so casually there was no way you noticed how that made Reid’s heart leap.

“Fair enough,” he responded. He cleared his throat, flickering his eyes between you and his own book. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

You look up at him over the top of your book, “Yeah, Spence?”

Spence. He started smiling despite the nerves, “I couldn’t help but notice that the Blackfriars Playhouse is showing Much Ado About Nothing, and um…” he swallowed hard, unable to look at you. “… I just so happen to have two tickets to see it next Saturday.”

Your feet wiggled under his leg, and he squirmed, tickled. “Is that so?”

“Would you want to go with me… maybe?”

You could barely contain the excitement starting to course through your veins, “Are you kidding? Spence! I would love to go.” Your book fell from your fingers, “Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

The pride that swelled Reid’s chest could’ve made him float to the moon.

~~~

You could’ve blamed it on the case. On the method of killing. On the type of victim. But it was the fact that you didn’t have a handle on your emotions.

Girls around your age were being taken and tortured by having nails hammered into them. Sharp, pointed nails – stabbed into them. It was too similar.

You counted your breaths and stared at your desk. Everyone exited the bullpen before you, packing briefcases and emergency bags for the incoming jet flight to Missouri. You staggered on your way out, nearly collapsing into your desk chair.

You considered running to the bathroom like you usually did, dousing yourself in cold water and snapping out of it. Instead you closed your eyes and traced the little scars you could find against your ribcage and abdomen.

The smell of coffee wafted over you.

“Hey,” came a small voice, kneeling beside you. “Is it the nails?”

You try to swallow, but it’s thick and sticks to the back of your throat. You just subtly nod instead, slowly opening your eyes.

Reid is there, leaning against your desk and itching to touch you – to comfort you.

“(Y/N),” he said cautiously, “Is this more than a phobia?”

You attempt a deep breath, but it’s shallow in your chest, “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Reid,” you say more sternly, “I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to let this hold me back.” You brush him off, standing and straightening your blazer. “I’m gonna go pack.”

Reid let you pass but kept his gaze on you as you left the offices. It must’ve been too full of the longing and worry he felt for you because Morgan and Prentiss were quick to comment on it.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” Morgan said, setting his duffel bag down, “What’s got your attention?”

Prentiss gave a breathy laugh, zipping up her own bag, “Only the object of all his desires.”

“Give it a rest,” he responded, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re not helping.”

“Helping what?” Morgan folded his arms, “You getting out of the friend zone?”

“If she could see the way you just looked at her,” Prentiss sucked in a breath of air that sounded like a hiss, “Maybe she’d see how in love you are.”

“Those big old puppy-dog eyes,” Morgan smiled, “You’re irresistible.”

Reid grumbled, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, the fact you’re wasting time pining when you could be getting some weekend sugar,” Morgan laughed.

“No,” Reid looked away, “There’s something familiar about (Y/N) and I don’t know what it is. Rossi refuses to say anything because he’s protecting her, but I know they have a past. That has to mean she’s been involved in Rossi’s career somehow, whether that’s from a case, or one of his lectures, or as one of his interns. But the fact he doesn’t speak about it means that it’s personal.”

“Okay,” Morgan said, the smile leaving his face, “What do you want to do?”

The corner of Reid’s lip twitched – it usually happened when he was thinking about something difficult, “I don’t know. I guess I hoped she would tell me eventually.”

“But now you’re impatient?” Prentiss asked, brow scrunched, “You want Garcia to look (Y/N) up?”

“No!” Reid said quickly, “I just… I want to help her, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I thought she just got a little squeamish around needles,” Morgan said, “She needs a second, but then she’s good.”

Reid shoved his hands in his pockets, “I think it’s a trauma response.”

“Well, don’t phobias come from past incidents or traumas?” Prentiss asked, “Couldn’t she have had a bad experience at the doctors as a child getting her flu shot?”

They clearly weren’t as concerned as he was, and Reid sat at his desk, knuckles covering his mouth as he thought.

Morgan shared a look with Prentiss before saying, “Look kid, we worry about (Y/N) too. We’re here for her if she needs it. But we’re not going to go snooping around in her personal business that she would rather keep private.”

“She’s not going to ask for help,” Reid said to himself.

Prentiss pursed her lips, “Then we’ll be here to catch her when she falls.” She gestured to Morgan and the pair of them took their bags to meet by the SUVs, all the while muttering to themselves.

Reid drummed his knuckles against his lips, staring at his computer screen and debating. He could do a simple google search himself, no need to bother Rossi or Garcia with it. With Rossi being involved in some way, there might be a news article somewhere that mentions you.

Hesitantly, looking around for any prying eyes, Reid logged onto his computer and typed in the search engine. He searched for your name. Your name plus FBI. Your name plus David Rossi.

And a string of articles popped up. Newspapers from Arizona, Nevada, and Utah.

Young girls kidnapped, held, tortured, and murdered in the desert. The murderer being coined ‘The Pincushion Killer’ based on his methods. Each victim was repeatedly stabbed with varying sized needles. Starting with acupuncture needles and growing to icepicks. He purposely stabbed his victims in nonthreatening spots of the body, avoiding large blood vessels and major organs. The purpose to draw out their suffering.

Until the day of the murder. He would then puncture an organ of his choice: lungs, stomach, liver, sometimes an artery.

He was never caught. But all nine of his victims were identified. Eight killed. And the ninth survived.

And pasted on the front of every news article said: Pincushion Killer – Victim #9 Survives; Killer Disappears.

Below was a picture of (Y/N).

The ninth victim.

~~~

Taglist: @caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree @thatdummy-girl @chiefqueef22 @nicole-survivor @murder-swan​ @nomajdetective​ @mxacegrey​ @cynbx @popeheywardssecretgf @futuremrsspencerreid @dilflover10 @mrskatpotter @holly-the-trash-writer​ @noakroontje

[mercurygray]

Advice for a Long Fic

Someone asked me recently for advice about writing a long fic, and I started making a list before realizing this was probably a post rather than a message.

I know I've said most of this before, and none of it is new advice. As with any advice, take what you think will serve you and leave what you think will not. Everyone's process is different.

-*-

Start a new folder in the place where you save your things. This is your new big project folder. You are going to save all the things here.

Decide whether you are going to write the whole thing and then post it, or post it as you go. There are benefits to both of these approaches. I am a post it as you go person, and I have friends who think this is the dumbest approach imaginable. It is whatever works for you and causes less anxiety.

I have a spreadsheet for all of my characters. While I didn't reference it too often while I was writing, the act of making the document helped solidify people in my mind a little. It was also nice to have in case you felt like doing an askbox game on a slow day.

Come up with a naming convention for the things in the big project folder. When your chapter is 'done' it should be switched to the naming convention. Mine was Darkening Sky - Working Chapter Title (for things that were still in progress) and Darkening Sky - 35 - Chapter Title for things that I'd finished. This helped me find things later after I'd been working for three years and would not have remembered what was in a document.

I personally like the model of doing a separate document for each chapter. This allows me to move these episodes around at will without the danger of possibly deleting a large chunk of text. This does not work for everyone! If you like one big document, use one big document.

The other reason I liked lots of little documents is that it gave me the opportunity to slot in other things that I didn't think were originally going to be chapters. When I first started working on TDS, I had a lot of flashes of ideas for different things throughout the whole story, and I wanted to get them down all at once. Some of those made it into the final story. Some did not. Some of them were written for one part of the story but got recycled into a different part. But they are all in the big document folder in case I needed them.

I also did something for TDS that I've never done for a story before - I wrote down all the different story beats and show beats on notecards and I laid them out on my floor underneath cards that had the show episodes on them. (You may have seen pictures of this.) By putting the plot points on notecards, rather than a list, I had maximum flexibility to move them throughout the story and could visualize over a larger space where the story was going. This also allowed the story and the characters to go places I did not think they would go.

Give yourself grace and time. It will not all happen overnight. It does not need to all happen overnight. The people who are expecting it to all happen overnight are not the people you need in your life.

Having said that, a schedule can be a wonderful and valuable thing. I was trying to post a chapter every two weeks during the pandemic, and then when work picked up again I scaled that back to once a month. The schedule was not for the readers. The schedule was for me. Having something to keep myself accountable was helpful to me to prevent burnout (a chapter a day, no thank you) but keep myself moving forward.

I am going to say something provocative here: There is Writing the Fic, and there is Doing Fandom On The Fic. Doing Fandom On The Fic is the "New chapter coming soon!!!" sorts of things. I would be very cautious about feeling like you need to do the second thing. Work on it first. When it is done, it will promote itself. (If you have already created the Doing Fandom thing as a part of your creative process - great! share that! But don't go out of your way to Make Something Just To Have Something.) There is a time and place for the second thing, and it fills a specific need, but there is a different and I would argue more effective way to do that, which is -

Find a Pit Crew. This is an endurance race, not a sprint, which means at some point you are going to look at what you have on the page and you're going to want someone to tell you that you are doing a good job. You're going to need someone to change your tires and change your oil and talk to you at ten o'clock at night when you want to rip everything up. This is not a big public server - this is one or two trusted friends who will listen to your bonkers AUs and what your characters ate for breakfast. Create a server for you and those two people and go have fun. If no one else shows up to this party, you and those two people are still having a great time, and that is what counts.

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist

[sacrilegesummer]

Wet, Hot, American Nights - Part 1

Heat of the Moment

summary: Steve thinks summer camp is terrible until a conversation that sparks a new found appreciation for all that camp can do for a person, and maybe he'll even make a friend out of it. warnings: underage drinking, future smut (maybe idk monkey covering eyes emoji), bad writing :p a/n: I am VERY nervous pls be kind this is the first time I have ever posted ANYTHING i've written (at my big age). I am really trying to not describe the reader in any way besides age and gender, but if there's something written that feels like projecting a certain look, pls lmk and I will edit/fix it for the future:)

word count: 4.5k

Camp Elk Heart was your home. You knew the layout of Elk Heart like it was the back of your hand. Every turn, every dip in the path, every root and stone, your body had grown accustomed to the trails like it was a part of you. It was a beautiful Friday evening, no clouds, hot but not too humid, and a rare silence was set over the camp grounds. After cleaning all of camp, a brutal time consuming task that was always the bane of everyone’s Friday, you took a well deserved shower. Scrubbing for nearly thirty minutes at your scalp to alleviate all the dirt and sand that kicked up throughout the busy day and cleaning your face to wash away the marks from teary eyed goodbyes to your campers. You changed into a tank top and a pair of sweatpants and as you went to put your shoes back on, you realized you left your sandals in the dining hall. Stepping out of the bathhouse and on to the trail, you grimace as you glance down at your once clean and bright pink shower shoes now dirty, with gravel stuck in the holes after only a few steps.You began to walk a little quicker to the dining hall.

As you walked you admired the land camp occupied. The pines that grew as tall as cathedrals, the lagoon that in its stillness reflected the sky in between large patches of water lilies, and the look of the freshly painted cabins settled in the trees. You came to camp a few weeks early to help with that task, and you took pride in your work. Camp had given you so much, you would do anything to keep in good shape, both internally and externally. You saw a head of hair through the window as you approached the dining hall, not giving it much more thought as you ripped the heavy door open. 

The AC was emitting a terrible grinding noise as you walked into the dining hall, but you were still absolutely sweating despite the pitiful movement coming from the machine. You thought of the last few things you needed before heading home for the weekend. Making a list in your head, dirty laundry, sandals, swimsuit, repeating so you wouldn't forget. Nearly every weekend someone hosted the whole camp for a couple nights. And this week, it was your turn to offer up your house to your friends and co-counselors for the weekend. After this week in the heat, everyone could use a break. A fun, alcohol fueled break. 

You walked briskly into the break room collecting your well worn pair of sandals from your cubby. You noticed your coworker, Steve Harrington, sitting on the couch, clearly not packed or ready to go, he might have even been pouting, you couldn’t tell. You were going to just keep walking, but instead you whipped around and smiled at him.

“Hey! Are you coming tonight?” 

Steve looked up from his Game Boy, the sounds of Super Mario playing gently from the small device in his hands. He looked surprised. 

“Oh, uh, is there something going on tonight?” Steve questions, sounding a little irritated. 

“Yeah! I put it on the Staff board a couple days ago,” you said, acting a little too happy and kindly gesturing towards the note that clearly said ‘MY HOUSE, THIS WEEKEND’ with your address listed below. 

“I’m hosting the party this weekend. Bring beer and a sleeping bag. My dad has a tent set up. You can probably ride with Robin if you ask nicely” you grinned at him. 

Steve first tilted his head towards the board and his face grew red, then he nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll be there.”

You give him a nod back and swiftly turn around, continuing the walk back to your cabin. Steve was…odd. He seemed very charming and friendly, but the only person he ever talked with was Robin, to everyone else he was distant and aloof. Despite this being her first summer as a counselor, Robin had been attending Elk Heart almost as long as you have. Coming to camp for the first time at 8 years old, you completely fell in love with the place. Robin had started going several years later but as campers you became fast friends, growing even closer this summer as counselors.

This was your first summer back since you were 17, and now, at 22, you felt prehistoric compared to the fresh faced 18 and 19 year olds. Steve was the next oldest person after you and Torres, the Northside Director, but Steve was one of the few staff who had never come to camp before. You had sympathy for him, coming to a camp where everyone knew each other and had their friends… that’s a hard barrier to break through. Secretly though, you think the reason Steve only talks to Robin is because he thinks he’s too good for the place, and she just happens to naturally be incredibly cool. You’d heard him complaining about the short breaks despite working 6 days a week, the exhaustion that came with camp life and the lack of ‘babes’ at camp one day. That left a sour taste in your mouth. 

You shook your head from these thoughts, maybe he’s just shy and the shared trauma of being Co’s the first week brought them close. He’s probably not the jerk you’re making him out to be. You entered your cabin and began to stuff your clothes into your duffle bag. Toiletries, towels, dirty laundry, swimsuit… you put your sandals back on your feet and ditched your shower shoes. The one strap sandal was ugly, but functional! You took a second to admire your tan lines, even more obvious now that you’ve scrubbed your feet of all the sand, dirt, and mud that accumulates in a singular day. You completely adored being outside, and the starkness of the tan lines felt like a status symbol. 

A car horn interrupts your thoughts and you hear your friend and fellow counselor, Eddie, scream from his beat up van, “Hurry up Sunshine! Gotta try an’ beat the sunset!” You continued to stuff all the things you needed, triple checking mentally and praying you didn’t leave anything behind. It was only a weekend, but you hated being unprepared. Turning all the lights in the cabin off, you jog out to Eddie’s van.

“I’m here, I’m here!” you shout over the music blasting from the radio. You crack open the door and settle yourself on the worn in passenger seat and chuck your bag into the laps of Torres, Nancy, and Jonathon, all stuffed into the backseat. “Can you toss that in back for me please?” you give the three of them a sweet look and smile. Torres flashes you a sparkling smile and tosses it behind him. 

“You were supposed to meet us at the dining hall! Had to track you down,” he laughed as he grabbed your shoulder playfully. 

“You know how I am,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Had to get some last minute things and thank you for saving me the front seat! Do you know who's all coming?”

Nancy picks up her little pen and paper and begins to read off the list she very generously created to keep track for you, “Robin is driving half of Southside, the other half is driving with Mae, Argyle is bringing all of the people on Northside who are going but Cabin 2, 14, and 4 can’t make it this weekend, so… most of Boys side. I mean Northside.” she rambled.

“Okay, but most of the camp is coming, so that’s great. The tents’ big, but they're not that big!” you laughed and then held your tongue for a moment, “Do you know if Steve is coming?”

Nancy raised an eyebrow. “He hasn’t said anything to me. Do you think he got the invite?”

“Yeah, no, I just invited him in when I saw him in the Nor’wester room. Told him to talk to Robin,” I said, trailing off. “I just don’t want him to think I’m like- excluding him or something you know?” I blurted out, looking back at Nancy in the back seat and then at Eddie, sounding a little desperate. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, his ego can take the hit,” Eddie said, passing you his cigarette. As you accept, he asks, “Should I stop at the Junction gas station or wait until we’re closer?”

“Closer, we can get ice at the closer station too”

Eddie smiles and turns the music up even more as you crank his window down, letting the wind whip your hair and cool yourself down, excited for the night but desperately needing a small moment to yourself. 

___

The party is in full swing, bonfire roaring, red solo cups and stomachs full, thanks to your mom’s huge feast. You settled on some light beer and mixed vodka drinks for the night, ‘the full spectrum’, Eddie joked earlier. Filling another cup with a shot or two of cheap vodka and cranberry juice, you walked over to your seat by the bonfire, next to Torres.

“Enjoying the night?” he asked as you sat down, the fire flickering on his smiling face. Torres was one of our international staff members, but you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact he came all the way from Gudalajara to Elkhart, Indiana of ALL places.

“Of course! Are you?” you asked him, leaning close. At the beginning of the summer you harbored a bit of a crush on the man. How could you not! He was handsome and fit and very affectionate, but after a… pretty intense weekend at Mae’s parents house, you both decided to remain friends. Besides, camp relationships hardly ever worked out, it was like incest. Campcest. And you valued his friendship too much to ever ruin that.

“Yeah it’s great, your parents were so kind to do all of this, we’re not an easy crowd to handle you know,” and he wiggled his eyebrows a little and you giggled. 

“I know, Eddie’s already broken one of my mom’s chairs. He begged for forgiveness and promised to repay her but nothing will change the fact that he’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes. 

Torres laughed at that, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. After a distant yell, your friend Patty came over, grabbing on to Torres’s arm, “Torres, you have to be my partner in pong. I will totally suffer without you,” she flirted, looking at him expectantly. Patty was beautiful, tall and thin, with long black hair and the most striking blue eyes you’ve ever seen. You didn’t mind that she liked him, just because you think of it as incest doesn’t mean everyone thinks that way. Besides, they were both close friends of yours, you only wanted them to be happy. 

“Of course pretty girl,” he smiled as he got up, shooting you a wink. You winked back and took another sip of your very strong drink. You stared into the fire for a moment thinking you were alone, appreciating the moment of solitude. You loved hosting but you could only be a social butterfly for so long before you grew exhausted. When you raised your head to look around, Steve was a few plastic chairs away,  already looking at you. He quickly looked away, thankful for the fire to hide his blushing face. You stood up from your chair and walked carefully over to him, being sure not to seem too drunk. Plopping down into the plastic chair next to him you smiled. 

“How are you doing Steve?” you asked him. It was weird. Normally you both were the life of the party. Dancing on table tops, getting kicked out of bars, and trying to beat each other in a shotgun race (your special trick was flashy, but not very effective in a race so he usually won). Tonight though, you were much calmer due to a pretty tiring, hot week with some of your toughest (and most rewarding) campers. 

“I’m good, just a little tired,” he smiled and took a sip out of his water bottle. 

“Me too,” you glanced down at his water bottle, “No drinks tonight? ” you said, faking surprise.

He shook his head and laughed a little, “I promised Robin I would bring her back in the morning and I really don't want to do that hungover. I've had a couple beers though, don’t worry. I’m in a…good spot for now.” He leaned up and to his left, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a pack of Newports. He sat back and lit one, taking a small drag, he offered it to you, raising his eyebrows. You reached out and imitated him, taking the tiniest inhale. 

“Well, that’s good. Just want to make sure you’re having a good time,” I said very earnestly. A beat of silence. I really don’t know anything about him you thought, disappointed in yourself. Sitting here, realizing you’ve never even been this physically close to him, you felt this deep urge to keep talking to him. Get to know him. Maybe make a friend. 

“Is it weird?” you asked a bit abruptly, passing back his cigarette, “Like, this kind of culture? You’ve never worked at camps before, right?”

“Yeah I mean, it's not what I imagined,” he grimaced a little, “but it’s been alright. I like being able to get tan while lifeguarding,” he said, squishing his face in distaste and taking another drag. “Everyone’s nice…really nice! I don’t know, I just kinda feel different from everyone,” he said slowly, his eyes raking over you in a way that you assume was very unintentional. 

Suddenly, one of your favorite outfits became a source of insecurity. It was simple, but maybe a little too colorful for something so casual. Your shorts were second hand, a light purple pair of quick dry shorts and your sweatshirt was an almost headache inducing pattern of pink, yellow, brown, and purple, but it was your favorite, and the only Patagonia thing you’ve ever purchased. It was expensive, but you were just so drawn to it you had to get. Now, you’re wondering if the bright pattern was off putting to others. You loved how you looked, you thought it screamed ‘camp counselor’ but now you’re wondering if it's just screaming ‘i’m weird - look at me I love attention!!!’. You looked around for a moment. 

“What do you mean? You don’t totally love kids wetting the bed, showering only twice a week, and 6 days of straight 100 degree heat or only pouring rain?” I said, wanting to get my mind off my own insecurities, realizing I was probably overreacting. It seemed malicious though, especially considering every single day he wore jean shorts or an expensive pair of brown hiking pants, while rotating the same few, plain shirts. 

“Yeah, not exactly my thing,” he said, taking another sip. “Do you go to school?” he asked, not looking entirely genuine, you thought maybe he felt obligated to talk to the host of the party. 

“Yeah! Should have graduated last May, but I’ll be done next semester,” You said, feeling a bit ashamed but hoping your face didn’t betray you. Suddenly, a loud cheer exploded from the pong table. Looking behind you, the game looked neck and neck, Torres and Patty having two cups and Nancy and Jonathon having three left. It was obvious Jonathon had no idea what he was doing and Nancy was making all the shots, but still, they were quite cute. You hoped they would last, summer romances were hard to translate into the real world. 

“Really? Why?” he asked, looking entirely shocked, drawing your attention back from the game of pong, “You’re literally the smartest person I know. Are you studying a million things at once?”

“Please, I am not the smartest person you know, you hardly know me,” you shook your head vigorously, “just, you know…do you go to school?” you pivoted, desperate to get yourself out of the spotlight. 

Catching the hint, he nods, “Yeah starting my first year at Indiana,” he said, sounding just as ashamed as you did. “I feel like a… like a weirdo, going to college so late but I didn’t have the grades for the longest time and I honestly had no idea what I wanted to do. Still don’t,” he said, running a hand through his hair. 

“That’s not weird at all. That’s honestly really smart. I really wish I did that. That’s why I’m taking an extra semester. I was so stuck on keeping everyone happy and wanting to make my parents proud that I studied a totally soulless profession that I don’t even care about,” you rambled, surprising yourself with the vulnerability. You don’t even know him, why are you word vomiting so hard right now?

“I wish I had taken a year or two to figure out what I want to do, not what my family wants, not what's expected of me,” you finished, not making eye contact with Steve. 

“What do you want to do?” Steve asked, sounding genuinely interested. 

“I want to teach,” you grinned just thinking about it, “I just love working with kids so much. Not to sound super mushy but… camp has changed my life, it basically saved my life, and it’s made me realize that these relationships are the ones I will cherish forever. The trust you build with your campers is a connection unlike any other and watching them grow in the short time we have them…it’s more rewarding than anything else. I want to do that forever. Camp is so unlike anything I’ve ever done,” you looked over at Steve as you spoke, his eyes were wide and he had a small smile on his face. 

Steve leaned forward a bit, “What do you mean camp changed your life?”

Now was the moment to decide just how vulnerable you wanted to be with Steve. Maybe you just really needed to talk about your feelings or maybe he was just, really easy to talk to. You took a breath, “I came back to camp because I was really unhappy. My major was totally depressing me because I hated the work so much. Coming here really set me on a good direction for life. I was doing things and hanging around people who were bad for me. Being back here makes me realize I don’t need to do those things for friends. Or to be cool. I’m cool without all that other bullshit. You think I’m cool right?” you said, grinning and attempting to relieve the tension of your admission.

“Oh definitely,” he grinned, “all the coolest people I know wear full monochrome outfits on a random Tuesday, start rap battles with condiment bottles, and wear garbage bag ponchos, just so one of your campers wouldn’t feel embarrassed,” Steve laughed as he thought of you this past week, garbage bag poncho over green socks, green shirt, and green pants. He’s not even sure if you’re aware you do that, “I’ve never seen anyone pull off those things like you do. You’ll be a great teacher,” he said genuinely and then took a shallow breath, “My parents told me they’d kill me if I ever became a teacher, so that’s really admirable.”

“What? Why?” you said, still reeling a little from what Steve said. You didn’t think anyone even noticed those things about you, much less Steve, someone you’ve hardly spoken with this entire time. 

“Because it doesn’t make any money,” he looked away, “My parents…my dad… have these sky high expectations for me. I don’t even really know him. He's been pressuring me for years to go to college, study business or something ‘useful’, meet a girl, get married, and all that bullshit,” he spat out, “But it never felt right. I guess that’s kind of why I’m here. Trying something new, trying to find myself, a little,” he said, getting quieter and then, “I don’t think my parents even like me. They’ve never said it but I’m pretty sure they think I’m a failure. My entire life they’ve pushed this- this agenda on me while being states away, working, constantly. Hard to parent when you’re halfway across the country and forget to call,” he said, staring into the fire and taking an aggressive drink of his water, probably wishing it was something stronger. 

You were quiet for a moment and spared a glance into your parents house. Your parents were wonderful, but you were the first of your family to ever go to college and they had no idea the pressure they were putting on you. Your parents were constantly working while growing up so they could provide you the opportunity to go to college. But still, you feel like you hardly know them, “I get that,” you said slowly, “My parents love me, but they don’t know me. They’re so afraid of me becoming like them they tried to force me to become a- a lawyer,” your face twisted at the thought of it, “because all the best lawyers let kids dye their hair blue with Kool-Aid.” You laughed, looking at Steve from the corner of your eye. You felt so comfortable sharing these things with him, but you’re not too sure why. You’re not even friends. Maybe it was the firelight or his big, brown eyes enticing you to spill your guts. Maybe you were just drunk. 

“You’re not a failure, by the way,” you said gently, Steve was still looking at the fire. “I think you did it the smart way,, the right way, if there's even such a thing. Whatever you decide to do you’ll be great at it, but don’t do what I did. Don’t try to study something your heart is truly not invested in, that’s how you fail classes, flunk out.” you said, knowingly.

He smiled bitterly, “I guess we’re two sides of the same coin huh?” but the bitterness melted into a real smile as he looked at you. 

“Yeah,” you said, reaching out to grab his hand gently, “you know, I go to Indiana too. If you want, when you get there, I can show you the ropes. All the best routes, best places to eat, good professors, all that stuff.” you spoke, hoping to not sound too eager. 

“Really? Would you?” He raised his eyebrows, holding your hand tighter.

“Of course Harrington, I love taking a little freshman under my wings,” I winked at him. 

“I am not little,” Steve said leaning in a little more, he looked like he wanted to stay more but then-

“Come on Sunshine, can’t sit by the fire all night! You’re my pong partner!” Eddie yelled from the table, “We play winners,” he gestured to Nancy and Jonathon, who were looking between you and Steve, and your hands held together. 

You abruptly pulled your hand out from his and practically jumped out of your seat. “Don’t have to ask me twice!” and quickly walked over to Eddie’s side. He tossed his arm over your shoulder and you snuck a glance at Steve. Steve was looking at the ground and gave a curt nod to no one in particular, and spun back around to stare into the fire. You felt sick to your stomach for a moment, regretting leaving the warmth of the fire, the warmth of his… 

You blinked hard and looked up at Eddie, who was holding out the other pong ball, “You ready to play?”

___

The sun shone through the windows of the tent you and your coworkers slept in that night, sleeping bags squished together, head to toe and stuffed like sardines. The room was hot with the morning sun beating down, the down in your sleeping bag doing its job, and the heat of a dozen young adults in one room combined with your own hangover was making you nauseous. As quietly as you could manage, you stumbled out of the tent. Immediately, you notice in your driveway that Robin’s car is gone. You glance back in the tent and see most of Southside is gone including Steve. You ignored the slight drop in your heart when you realized he was gone. It wasn’t even 8 am, Robin really needed to get back I guess. You wished you could have spoken to Steve a little more. It was so…refreshing to speak to someone so freely, without judgement. Or was that all in your head, spurred on by the drinks in your hand? You couldn’t be sure anymore, the memory of last night becoming a bit hazy after leaving Steve by the fire. 

You padded across your front lawn barefoot (where were your sandals?) into your parents house. Expecting a morning full of cleaning, you were shocked at the site of your parents home. The destruction of last night was stuffed into garbage bags, plates were in the dishwasher, and your couch, with a million different pillows and blankets, was straightened up. You gasped, seeing how clean it was, and making a mental note to thank whoever did this. You double checked that everything was clean and started up the dishwasher. You walked into your childhood bedroom and coat room to organize everyone’s things to make their departure a little easier and reduce the chances of someone leaving their things. As you entered you saw a note on your bed, scrawled quickly in the glitter pen that sat on your desk. It read:

Thanks for the party. I’m really glad we talked. It meant a lot. Hope I put everything away in the right spot -Steve

You put your hand flew to cover your mouth. How… kind of him. You figured maybe Robin or Patty had cleaned up, but Steve? You’ve seen him clean on Fridays; your first week you had to show him how to hold a broom and mop properly. There was no way he did this on his own. 

You thought back on your conversation last night, forcing your brain to conjure back up the moment, regardless of the headache that was forming. You thought of the warmth of the bonfire and the callous feel of his finger tips, and the genuine look in his eyes when he called you ‘the coolest’. A giddy feeling entered your body, a new friend! Especially to make a friend with someone as standoffish as Steve, this felt like quite the accomplishment. You vowed to seek him out this weekend before camp starts and thank him. Your excitement grew over the prospect of being able to build and share memories with another person, your chest beating quickly just thinking about it. You wondered what traditions he knew of and which ones he didn't. Like, has he ever stargazed on the roof of the Nature Center? Swam to the water trampoline and spend the night? You put the note in your pajama pocket, your face growing warm at the thought of hanging out with Steve. You practically skipped out of your house and began to count down the hours until you were back at camp again. 

[raincoatpng]

nobody asked but here is my take on Yona because I need to get it out somehow.

This is a pro-Yona rant from a sidlink fan, addressed to people who enjoy media analysis. Because I don't think it's necessary to pretend a whole character doesn't exist in order to enjoy a ship, if you can learn to look deeper. I am not claiming to know the universal truth, this is just my opinion and my read on things.

I don't want to spend too much time on this first point, but a lot of people seem to be of the opinion that Yona's existence in Tears of the Kingdom was a ploy from Nintendo to bury sidlink. I personally don't think that's the case, firstly because I think it's overestimating the reach of sidlink to assume that Big Nintendo would care to go out of their way to sink the ship, and secondly, a lot of things just do not make sense if that indeed was their intention.

Now, I can't claim to know what every writer and game dev involved in TOTK was thinking, but from a purely logical standpoint, why would they include so many gay ass scenes if their intention was to destroy the ship? I'm thinking first and foremost about the scene where Sidon gets on one knee and gives Link a ring as "proof of his vow." There's just no way that not a single person in the writers room saw the implication there, let's be honest. Why on earth would they put this scene in there if they cared at all about killing off sidlink? It's like using oil to put out a fire. Like I said, it simply makes no sense.

Onto the topic of Yona herself, and the reason I'm posting this in the first place, I don't think I'm the only one who noticed the lack of chemistry between her and Sidon. We know the TOTK writers were capable of writing good chemistry because they did it with Rauru and Sonia, and through just a couple cutscenes at that. So I don't think it's a coincidence that Sidon and Yona don't have that between them.

If you've not read the new zora stone tablets written by Sidon scattered around Lanayru, there is one where Sidon describes how he had once seen Yona as a sister and how he admired her just as he did Mipha. Yes, granted, it is written in the past tense, but why on earth would they include this in the first place? why not say they were merely childhood friends, why precise that they viewed each other as siblings (or that Sidon did at least)? As for the part where he says his feelings have grown harder to describe with time, that is such a vague line it could literally be interpreted any way you like. I have no clue if this is unique to the english translation, so if anybody reads japanese and has read the tablets, please let me know if this was originally intended.

Regardless, Sidon also mentions that Dorephan informed him that Yona would be his bride, implying in no uncertain terms that this was an arranged marriage. The lack of agency in this relationship doesn't exactly scream romance, now, does it?

LASTLY!! the most significant on screen interaction between Sidon and Yona by far is the scene where Yona scolds him (rather sisterly behaviour I might add) for refusing to go to the Water Temple with Link and let her help with the sludge. She accuses him of projecting his grief over losing Mipha onto her and letting himself be paralysed with the fear of losing a loved one again. Similarly, the most significant interaction Yona has with Link is when she fixes his Zora armour up for him – the very armour that Mipha had made for him. I'm gonna say this straight up, it is odd how much the game directs our attention to the parallel between Sidon's supposed love interest and his sister. That is, unless, there is in fact no romance between him and Yona.

So. Rather than writing off Yona entirely as many people are quick to do, I invite you to think deeper on her role in the game. Yes she's very underdeveloped as Sidon's love interest, but ask yourself if that even is the most interesting way to view her. I know a lot of people don't care to think about sibling relationships, even less so chosen family, but for those of you who do, I'm asking you to try to revisit Yona and Sidon's relationship in that light.

Consider the tragedy of losing one sister to war and another to politics, of growing apart from someone you considered family and be robbed of the opportunity to rekindle that bond because you are now betrothed to them. Imagine suddenly being nobody's brother, nobody's sister.

Even if that interpretation isn't as compelling to you as it is to me, at the very least, I'm tired of seeing unwarranted hate for a character that is nothing but helpful and kind. You are perfectly allowed to like or dislike any character, you are entitled to your opinion, but you are not entitled to misogyny. If your only reason for hating a female character is that she "gets in the way" of a ship, you are being sexist. Full stop.

[ohtobefreaky]

Tumblr you are gunna LOVE this one (I hope)

Today I bring you more Caleb cause I can’t stop thinking about him, tomorrow, who knows (probably Silco)

yall don’t know how tempting it is to play just to get a good grasp on him so I can write this one out </3

Caleb and his little sister who is OBSESSED with cop shows and super hero shows, anything with heroes vs villains, his little sister is crazy about it

you like to pretend to be one of the heroes and you have ur big brother be the villain and you proudly stand over him when you beat him, it’s super fuckin cute it’s one of his favorite things to do with you

But you’ve gotten a little too cocky with the whole “heroes ALWAYS win” thing, so ur big brother decides to show you exactly what a real villain would do if they caught a cute little hero like you

he pretends it’s all just part of the game as he overstimulates you until ur sobbing, but even through your tears ur adamant that the villain will never break you bc ur a superhero >:( so he has to up the ante and introduce a brand new “hero destroying weapon” he made just for you (his cock)

that weapon thrusting in and out of you while ur big brother grins over you, teasing you

Didn’t you say you were a big and powerful superhero? Didn’t you say this wouldn’t be enough to take you down?

And yet here you are, under him and moaning like a dog in heat. Not as strong as you said, that’s for sure <3

it’s warm and it feels so good but so strong it’s almost painful, you can see how other heroes might fall for this, but you won’t!! (You will.)

He’d be so mean when he finally finds that one spot, prodding around inside you til he hits that squishy part that makes your mouth fall open in a loud moan he definitely makes fun of you for

he’s just a big asshole, but in his eyes it’s deserved

You’ve been so cocky, just because the heroes on the tv never lose doesn’t mean you’d be so lucky, not when ur so small and cute

your legs twitching on either side of his hips as he pounds his cock in you as far as he can just as he’s about to cum, telling you he’s injecting you with some mind control liquid so he can keep you as his cute little hero pet and ur kicking and squirming but he’s mocking you because you’re just so weak, nothing like when you two fight

your eyes glassy, cheeks bright red when he finally cums, your soft little cracked voice calling him big brother finally and he scoops you up and covers you in kisses

(When it’s all over and he’s sufficiently comforted you, that teary pout you give him while you call him a big meanie makes his cock twitch and he debates bending you over and fucking you again)

The nicest part of this for him is that he can be as mean and cruel as he wants, since he’s only playing the villain

You never need to know he’s had these thoughts for years, how close he’s come to doing this outside of playing with you

that dream will be realized soon enough though, because now that you’ve gotten a taste of it, you’re a little obsessed <3

I think it would be funny if it backfired and you ended up more of a villain from how often you ask him with ur pretty puppy dog eyes if he’ll do that again

He can’t say no, but god does he wish he could when you bounce on his cock so long that he’s shooting blanks </3 he’s made a little monster outta you

I’ve got a killer headache so I cannot give yall more but I will almost definitely be back with more thoughts about him soon </3 I’m obsessed

[vanilladollette]

Your dating headcanons for moon dong eun was really good ❤️❤️❤️

Could you please write the same for Jae Jun and Do Yeong? Thanx ✨✨✨

Dating Ha Do-yeong would include . . .

Author's note: I hope you don't mind me separating them into separate posts. I will do Jae-Joon!

Do-yeong does nothing without careful consideration, and this includes relationships. He is not the type to fall head over heels instantly. Instead, he observes, studies, and contemplates before making a move.

He notices the way you carry yourself, your intelligence, and how you handle difficult situations. He appreciates a sharp mind and someone who can keep up with his pace.

Before officially making a move, he tests the waters. You’ll notice him standing a little closer during conversations, offering small but thoughtful gestures (like sending a car when it’s raining or ensuring you’re seated comfortably at an event).

Unlike someone who openly flirts, Do-yeong prefers exclusivity. He invites you to a private golf match, a members-only gallery, or a dinner at a high-end restaurant where he can focus solely on you without the noise of the world.

Do-yeong is a dominant personality in business, but he values a partner who stands strong. He doesn’t need someone to submit—he needs someone who complements him, someone who challenges him in ways that excite him.

He enjoys discussing philosophy, business, and global affairs. If you’re well-read and articulate, he finds himself drawn to you even more. If you’re not, he enjoys introducing you to new ideas and hearing your perspectives.

With Do-yeong, words aren’t always necessary. A glance across a crowded room, a slight nod, or the way his hand briefly touches your lower back in reassurance—these moments are his way of showing affection

You’ll notice his love through the little things—how he remembers your schedule and arranges things to make your life easier, how he ensures your home is stocked with your favorite wines or how he has his driver pick you up when you’re exhausted.

Despite his busy schedule, Do-yeong values spending time together. Whether it’s a quiet evening at home with a glass of whiskey, a private yacht getaway, or simply reading in the same room, your presence alone is enough to put him at ease.

He is not openly jealous, but he is protective. If another man gets too close, Do-yeong won’t start a scene—he’ll simply position himself between you and the other person, his presence alone making it clear that you’re his

He’s the epitome of poise in social settings, but behind closed doors, his control slips just enough to show how deeply he feels. His kisses are slow yet consuming, his hands firm yet reverent, as if memorizing every inch of you.

He’s the kind of man who notices your stress even if you don’t say a word. He’ll run a bath for you after a long day, massage the tension from your shoulders, and whisper, “Let me take care of you.”

He isn’t overly vocal about his emotions, but the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room—says everything he doesn’t. When he listens to you, he listens with his whole body, leaning in, eyes locked on yours, making you feel like your words are the most important thing in the world.

If he’s in love, he’s all in. He won’t entertain distractions or unnecessary drama. His loyalty is quiet but unwavering—when Do-yeong chooses you, there is no one else.

Do-yeong has immense wealth, but he doesn’t flaunt it. Instead of grand displays, his generosity is refined—a tailored designer dress sent to your home, an all-expenses-paid vacation planned meticulously around your preferences, or an exclusive experience arranged just for the two of you.

As the CEO of a powerful company, Do-yeong is always under scrutiny. He expects discretion and grace from his partner. If you’re pulled into the public eye, he ensures you’re protected and that no scandal ever touches you.

You won’t have to worry about petty inconveniences—Do-yeong anticipates your needs before you even voice them. He is the definition of stability, offering a life where you never have to question your place by his side.

At some point, he is going to introduce you to his daughter, Ye-sol.

Do-yeong is strict when it comes to Ye-sol’s well-being. Ye-sol is his pride and joy.

Though He isn’t cold.

He’s a father who will read bedtime stories in the softest voice, who will quietly brush her hair from her face as she sleeps, and who will always ensure she knows she is loved.

So if he sees a future with you, he slowly integrates you into Ye-sol’s life—weekend outings, quiet family dinners, and moments where he looks at the two of you together and thinks, This is what home feels like.

If she adores you, his heart softens even more. He loves watching you interact with her, and it only deepens his love for you.

Do-yeong doesn’t rush into anything, but when he commits, it’s forever. If he proposes, he has already envisioned a life with you—a home, a future, and a deep-rooted bond.

He ensures you’re taken care of in every way. Whether it’s financial security, emotional support, or simply knowing you’ll never have to face anything alone, Do-yeong is your rock.

He loves a partner who continues to evolve, who challenges herself and him. He supports your ambitions, whether it’s career growth, personal passions, or learning new things together.

He may not always voice his feelings, but the way he touches you, the way he prioritizes you, and the way he looks at you will always remind you of his devotion.

[emilyzipps]

hello! i was wondering if you could tell us about the narration voice, and how to write it? the inside voice of the character that describes how they feel and think. I can't wrap my head around it for some reason, it often feels like i'm rambling too much or Not addressing the meat of the conflict in a way that feels interesting. How detailed should it be? is it better to be direct about what the character thinks and feels, or be kind of vague and trust the reader to figure it out?

This is a great question! This is a very Level Up question, and I love it. Let’s talk bout it!

First of all, quick reminder that there are different kinds of narrative voice. First person (I woke up and I saw…), second person (you wake up and you see) and third person (Alex woke up and she saw). There’s also a distinction within third person of omniscient vs close. Omniscient is when the narrator is sort of the “voice of god,” like a movie camera. In movies, we aren’t in anyone’s head, we’re seeing the world from god’s POV. In omniscient, you can know everything that occurs, regardless of if your main character is there or not. So if Alex and Maggie are in a scene together and it’s omniscient third, it might say things like “Alex smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. Maggie’s heart rose as she smiled back.” We know what BOTH characters are thinking. Close third is the opposite, where you only know what’s happening in the head of the person who is telling the story. So if it’s an Alex POV chapter, you would NOT know that Maggie’s heart rose. It might say, “Alex smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. Maggie smiled back, big and broad, and Alex’s heart sank. Maggie simply isn’t getting her.” We can guess at Maggie’s thoughts from her actions, but we can’t know them.

All of these POV options are good, and all of them have their pitfalls. If you want to explore more about the pros/cons/whens for them, just ask!

But okay, now the meat of the question. Regardless of which POV you’ve chosen, narrative voice, sometimes also called “inner life,” is such an important way to do a bunch of things in your writing. Some of those things are:

Establish character traits and personality. Tell us about this person. What are they like? What do they like? For example, if a car swerves in front of them, what would they do? Yell a curse word? Honk? Pull out a gun? Cry? Have a panic attack? Most of these things will not be said in dialogue, so narrative voice is how we find out.

Tell the reader stuff about the setting/environment in which this character lives. All works have worldbuilding, even if it’s not fantasy or sci-fi. Say your character is walking down the street in chapter one and they notice that what used to be a parking lot is becoming a high-rise apartment building. What do they think about this, and what does it tell us about this place they live? Are they excited because this city is so expensive and they need more affordable housing? Depressed because gentrification is pushing them out of their neighborhood? This is a great way for you not to have to tell us “Development has really changed the economic and racial landscape of this mid-size American city,” which is a boring infodump. Instead, you can say, “Maggie inwardly scoffs at the construction project. She wonders how much longer the wig shops and payday loan storefronts across the street will last, where her abuela will get her nails done if the Whole Foods in this new complex drives every brown shop out of business.”

Demonstrate tension between what they say/do and what they think/feel. No one ever says only and exactly what they think or feel. People are always editing, and some people edit more than others. When they’re sad, what does your character say? How much do they hide it? How well do they hide it? How would they feel if someone knew they were sad? This tells us so much about this person, and also helps build tension and conflict. If Jane is inwardly really upset and hurt because Maura is on a date with someone else, the contrast between what Jane says and what Jane thinks is a big thing that will build the romantic tension between the two of them, especially the unrequited, unspoken romantic feelings Jane has for Maura.

Example: If Maura says, “Jane, I can’t hang out tonight I have a date.”

Does Jane say, “Maura I’m really disappointed to hear that because I have unrequited feelings for you and I wish you paid enough attention to me to notice them. Although, I don’t think I’m good enough for you, so maybe you do know and this is how you’re letting me down easy? I’m not sure, please tell me explicitly.” NO! Of course she doesn’t! She probably says, “Wow. Okay. Have fun.” Or maybe even something kind of snarky like, “Wow, that’s what? Five different guys this month?” The rest happens in narrative voice/inner life.

Maybe like this:

Maura flushes a little. “Jane, I can’t hang out tonight,” she says. Then, after a beat, “I have a date.” Jane’s heart hits the floor. Really? Another date? That’s what, her fifth this month? God, this woman will really do anything with anyone that isn’t named Jane Rizzoli, won’t she? Jane wonders if Maura knows about her (quite obvious) feelings and this is how she’s letting Jane down easy, or if she’s as oblivious as everyone else thinks she is. Jane, deep down in her gut, decides she doesn’t want to know. “Wow,” she says, forcing what must be an unconvincing smile, resolving to take out her anger at the gym later. “Have fun.”

In terms of how detailed you want the narrative voice to be, that depends. Are we talking about something you’re trying to build reader curiosity about—get them hooked and keep them reading—or something you simply want the reader to know? If the former, be vague. If the later, be specific!

Example: You might want to be vague about something mysterious in their backstory. Say the story is from Lena’s POV and the reader—and her love interest Kara—don’t know that her family members are straight up evil people that used the company she now runs for their nefarious, evil purposes. You don’t want to say something like “Lena looked at the pictures on the wall, all the CEO’s of her company that came before her, and shuddered. All of them are her family members, and all of them are guilty of war crimes. She’s ashamed to be affiliated with them in any way, and she’ll die before she tells Kara about it.” That’s not inducing curiosity in the reader, really because you’ve now told them the mystery.

Instead, you might say something like, “Lena, as always, shuddered under the watchful eyes of the portraits of the former CEO’s hung up on the wall in their ornate, gilded frames. She wished she were brave enough to throw the damn pictures in the trash, or more honestly, wished she were brave enough not to let them bother her.” Ooh, suspense. Why? Why does she hate them, why do they make her shudder, why isn’t she able to junk them? And, crucially, we have not said they’re her family. Maybe the escalating reveal will go like this:

Reference 1: Lena shudders (inner life)

Reference 2: Lena calls them evil in her mind (inner life)

Reference 3: alluding to some of their war crimes (inner life)

Reference 4: as much detail as the reader needs to fully understand their evilness (maybe through a dialogue scene)

Reference 5: kara knows about their evilness!!! DRAMATIC TENSION (dialogue)

Reference 6: the big reveal: THEY’RE HER FAMILY MEMBERS dun dun dunnnnnnnn (inner life)

However, for other things, like what does Lena look like or how does she feel the first time she sees Kara? You can just say it, and if you want to, you can also use it to build world or character, like this: “Lena’s always known she was pretty, but as a child she hated her looks because she didn’t resemble her family in any way. Now, as an adult, that’s the one thing she’s immensely grateful for.”

I hope this helps answer your question, and please feel free to ask more questions about this, POVs, managing big reveals, or anything else.

[stereopticons]

On this Day in Schitt's Creek: March 2

2019

One for One [david/patrick, E, 2,243] by bigficenergy

Another take on David and Patrick's night at Stevie's apartment.

to wild homes we return to [david/patrick, T, 5,943] by yerbamansa

On their first visit to Patrick’s hometown, David has a lot of anxieties.

2020

Room One [david/patrick, E, 6,184] by thingwithwings

“So, can we christen your new apartment yet?” David asks, leaning over the counter, smiling into a kiss. Patrick draws back, shaking his head sadly. “No. I don’t take possession till tomorrow. But we can go to the Sherwood.” David tilts his head. “What, like . . . for the last time?”

Things I'll Never Say [david/patrick, G, 1,700] by @olrhys

5 times Patrick doesn’t say what's on his mind + 1 time he does

Until You Don't know [david/patrick, G, 3,188] by aokayinspace

David and Patrick take a trip to Israel only for David to realize when they get there it is Purim so they throw together some last minute plans to celebrate the holiday.

2021

[Podfic & Art] Getting Over Getting Older All the Time [david/patrick, E] by Amanita_Fierce, @b13-maybethistime CeeWelsh @delilah-mcmuffin DelphinaBoswell Elsewherefumbling @godoflaundrybaskets kiranerys42 @kiwiana-writes @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 MoreHuman @neelyo67 @petrodobreva RevolutionaryJo @rhetoricalk @ships-to-sail @sparklesmagiclightlove @sunlightsymphony @this-is-not-nothing @unfolded73 @whetherwoman CompassRose

“Well I’m going to run some errands,” David says, brushing a stray bit of fuzz off his navy blue sweater. “But we’re still on for birthday dinner?” “Yeah,” Patrick nods. He’s pretty sure David knows the annual birthday surprise party stopped being a surprise after year two or three. David doesn’t even inflict fictional catastrophes on the café as a decoy anymore. But Patrick plays along anyway. In some ways their whole partnership is built on playing along. OR David and Patrick have been business partners for a decade until, on Patrick's 40th Birthday, everything changes. [Podfic and Art of "Getting Over Getting Older All the Time," written by Distractivate]

A Lot of Sinks [david/patrick, T, 1,723] by @flowerfan2

David has had a long day. Patrick has some ideas on how to brighten his mood. -or- “Your sister has done it on a lot of sinks,” Patrick says. “Maybe we should try it.”

A Morning Mystery [david/patrick, T, 1,375] by @thesleepyskipper

When a groggy David is rudely interrupted from returning to sleep by Patrick's phone, he finds his curiosity piqued by some messages from a strange number. David spends the rest of the morning trying to deduce who is texting Patrick and why.

A One-Time Exception [david/patrick, G, 446] by reginahalliwell

Patrick convinces David to do a paint nite with him in Elmdale, but oh, what to wear?!

Birds of a Feather [david/patrick, M, 2,378] by @agoodpersonrose

Patrick smiles lewdly at his husband. “I believe this is what Mr Attenborough would call,” he lowers his voice in a bad imitation of the documentary narrator, “the traditional mating call of the wild Brewer.”

Dominica [david/patrick, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

I Love You and That's All That I Really Know [david/patrick, NR, 801] by @egoanesthesia

David and Patrick listening to Love Story (Taylor's Version). This is just 800 words of soft husbands being soft oops.

Nice Boys Sometimes Kiss Like That [david & harry styles, T, 7,340] by yeah_alright

Harry Styles showing up at David Rose’s latest gallery opening is certainly unexpected. The way he saves David not only from his asshole ex but maybe even his own self-loathing is nothing David could have seen coming. And it might be exactly what he needs.

Safe [david/patrick, G, 2,098] by alldaydream

The first time Patrick realizes he isn’t living just for himself anymore.

Safe & Sound [david/patrick, T, 3,747] by TheBasilRathbone

David grins, reaching out to pull Alexis into a too-tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmurs into her shoulder. “I’m glad you married Patrick,” she fires back, meeting Patrick's eye over David’s shoulder with a watery smile. “Sebastian defo would have let me freeze to death and then taken polaroids of my dead body for his next showing for some kind of ‘meditation on the fleeting nature of life.’” “Well, we’re all glad I didn’t marry Sebastian.”

sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you [david/patrick, T, 3,865] by fairmanor

This is the first time it’s happened to David here. Or; on the day that marks a year since Sebastien came to town, David can't sleep. He works through some lingering feelings about his past.

we look here and we look there, seeking answers anywhere [alexis/twyla, G, 370] by budd

Alexis misses her brothers back home in Schitt's Creek. #30: "eyelid kisses"

2022

Haiku [david/patrick, G, poem] by elifisher96

Patrick tries his hand at writing haikus.

Let's Take this Offline [stevie/ruth, E, 516] by @sarahlevys @middyblue

Stevie: ruth Stevie: ruuuuuuth Stevie: i have a very important question Ruth: Hello Ruth: How may I help you? Stevie: this meeting is so goddamn boring Stevie: which underwear do you have on today A RMG business meeting gets almost out of hand.

You Make Sense to Me [david/patrick, M, 802] by @a-noble-dragon

He's a feast for the eyes...

You've Got All That I Need [david/patrick, NR, 76,580] by @brobeckology @egoanesthesia

Patrick offers to tutor David in marketing class, but it's totally platonic... right? OR College/university AU but Patrick is disabled.

2023

[Art] Good boy [david/patrick, M, art] by @lizzie-bennetdarcy

David wears a collar. Patrick likes it.

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017, 2018, or 2024 2019: 2 fics/8,186 words 2020: 3 fics/11,072 words 2021: 12 fanworks (11 fics, 1 podfic, 1 fanart)/24,565 words 2022: 4 fanworks (3 fics, 1 poem)/77,979 words 2023: 1 fanart Total: 22 fanworks (19 fics, 1 podfic, 2 fanart, 1 poem)/121,802 words

[maximsdeadwife]

desperate to know how sub!mark s would react to reader breaking a uniform policy to get his attention and how badly he’d stumble over his words trying to reprimand reader and maybe it gets a little spicy?

Thank you so much for this ask because this actually turned into a very nice warm up for what I’m trying to write for him and has, I think, got me out of a bout of writers block!

I’ve put reader (gn) in Helly’s shoes for this imagine, it just worked best for this scenario as I was writing it. I intended this to be a few headcanons but ended up with a bit of dialogue and a little story unfolding into approx. 1k words, so it’s basic and my first time writing for him, but hopefully reads ok! I kept wanting to add in bits about Petey x Mark and things they might have got up to in the past because I’m shipping them like crazy, but I refrained this time. If anyone wants that in though… lmk 👀

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Emerging from the bathroom with as new a look as you could manage with what your outie dressed you in, you turn the heads of everyone in your department – all three of them. Mark S however, is the only one who’s heart skips. 

Despite already feeling a pull toward you, Mark S has never before experienced the thrilling sensation of seeing someone he finds attractive looking completely different in a new style, and the way it somehow makes them ten times hotter.

When Irv and Dylan turn to glare at Mark, waiting for him to take action, he knows he has to talk to you. It’s a breach, and he needs to know why you’re doing it and restore your outie’s clothes to their former state before you leave for the day. It’s his duty to take good care of you after all, and he wouldn’t want to see you get into any trouble for this. He needs to be the one to do it, rather than leave you to be picked up by Mr Graner should this cause any kind of stir.

He’s unable to look you in the eyes when he stutters out his request for you to accompany him. How will he make it down all those hallways to a spare room with you looking so sexy, alone together the whole time?

When he stands, a few papers drop from the binder he shakily pulled out (the one with the scripts to follow – hopefully there’ll be one about uniform policy), and he fumbles awkwardly at your feet as he tries to pick them up.

Irv and Dylan peer around the desk dividers. Dylan is in awe because he knows how into Mark you are even though you’ve tried to keep it hidden. Irv rolls his eyes, suspecting that Mark won’t be equipped to handle this, not with you enticing him anyway. Irv also suspects this was designed to tempt Mark, but he’ll bite his tongue. For now.

Mark keeps his eyes forward and strides ahead while you wish he would slow down just a little. Opening the door to the nearest office he finds, he squeezes his eyes shut as you pass through into the room, trying to remind himself that he’s a professional macrodata refiner and he can do this. Petey would have been able to do this. Petey would also have ribbed him for weeks if he knew he was so turned on by you simply showing up with a new look, but Petey isn’t here and no one needs to know.

Perching awkwardly at the edge of the nearest desk in the uncomfortably sparse room, Mark suddenly can’t remember how to sit. Or stand. Or what he usually does with his arms. This is new, too. Is he unwell? He clutches the binder close and smiles at you; a smile Irv might describe as ‘goo-goo eyed.’

‘What is it, Mark?’ you ask, and he lets out a breath, waiting for the tug of war in his mind to decide whether he’s looking through the binder or just going to come out with the truth. 

You step closer and he flinches, feeling his trousers tighten. Oh no, not now, not here- and with that, the binder is strategically placed over his crotch. 

‘Am I breaking the rules?’ you ask, close enough now for your knees to touch his. You see his pupils, even within those deliciously dark eyes, dilate. 

‘Y-you’re not supposed to- you can’t- your outie-’ he tried. And tried again. But with you so close he could feel the warmth of your breath on his cheek, it was harder by the second. He was growing harder by the second, too.

‘I promise, I’ll tidy myself back up before I leave today, make my outie proud. Is that what you needed to hear? Or did you need to follow procedure and do this by the book?’ You tug at the binder, the only barrier between you and him, and his breath hitches. You reach up to run your fingers through his thick dark hair and he drops it, papers scattering from within. His cheeks flush.

‘I don’t mind if you do, I just really wanted to see you like this. All out of breath and-’ you place a palm against his thigh - ‘is this ok?’ He nods so desperately you have to stifle a chuckle. ‘Out of breath and whimpering-’

‘I’m not whimper-ah!-’ he whines. He doesn’t want you to stop, wants you to keep touching him exactly like this but… maybe a little faster? Or harder? Maybe without the layer of fabric between him and your hand? He’s not sure what he likes, never having had the chance to explore it, but he knows he likes this feeling and wants to chase it.

‘You’re just how I imagined you’d be,’ you whisper against his ear, ‘I can’t concentrate on those goddamn numbers when you’re right at the other side of that divider.’ The hand in his hair moves to loosen his tie.

He can feel himself leaking, not sure if this is a good thing, but it must be because it still feels incredible, and without expecting to, he moans. It’s a gorgeous, loud, hungry moan that startles him and pleases you, and just as your lips ghost over his, he jumps back. Milchick is coming down the hallway. Mark smooths his hair into place and picks up what he can of the binder to place over his still tented – and now stained – trousers.

After an uncomfortable interaction, you’re both back in MDR; you dressed as your outie would want you to be, and Mark with an uncomfortable heat in his core. An itch left unscratched. A horribly awkward silence fills the vast space. Mark wonders if Irv and Dylan know, somehow. And why does that make him feel embarrassed that if they did know, he didn’t finish – or satisfy you?

You carefully slide your divider down, gaining a raised eyebrow from Irv, and flash Mark a knowing smile. He blushes. You pass him a note – Store room, 5.15? Mark nods, rushing off to the bathroom to hide what the thought of it did to him.

[noperopesaredope]

Stupid Jedi & Clone OC Concept

I mentioned this in the tags of a different post, but I thought it deserved its own, much more fleshed out post.

Jedi Master Lonsnek Kathiss

Master Kathiss is a wise and friendly slightly older jedi who appears to be some sort of draconic sea serpent, but about the size of a smaller boa constrictor. He is perfectly capable of speaking common and has even created methods of using his lightsaber, but still faces difficulties due to being, well, a snake.

His first introduction to his men was...interesting, to say the least, with may being a bit surprised and caught off guard by his appearance. A lot of the younger ones didn't even realize he was their general at first (most of the shinies don't), and were extremely mortified when they realized he was their boss.

However, Kathiss was patient about it every single time, aware that while they were all strong and determined fighters and not naive to the horrors of war, the clones were a bit sheltered when it came to the greater world and lacked experience/knowledge in multiple areas (one of my favorite headcanons is that the clones never had sex-ed, so they have no idea how any of that works).

He is extremely insightful when it comes to the clones as a whole, seeing their existence and treatment as extremely tragic. While he isn't extremely old, he does tend to see a lot of the clones as being relatively young, especially when the war first starts (after all, even the oldest clones were only developmentally 20 at the beginning).

Thus he tries to be kind to them while still focusing on his job. While he isn't quite like Plo Koon and doesn't get close to that many of his troopers, he has a slightly similar internal attitude, he just doesn't express it too openly.

Kathiss is generally a pretty playful and lighthearted man, which made some of his troopers even more awkward initially, but they eased up to it, and even began joking back. He also has a more unconventional fighting style and strategy, but they've learned to trust him and his weird plans overtime.

The small issue with Kathiss as a leader is that he can be unintentionally cryptic or forget to explain certain things, like if he explains his plan through a reference or quick metaphor, and then forgets to clarify what the heck he is talking about. His troops have overtime realized that when he says something weird, there is a lot more to it, they just need to remind him to elaborate a bit.

Overall, while things were a bit awkward at first, he eventually gained the respect of his men, especially watching him look out for all of them and leading the frontlines with intense gusto and energy. He is a highly respected general, which can be a little bit funny at times, especially when someone meets him without knowing about him beforehand. I honestly might make another Jedi OC who is just one of those little Ghibli fox-squirrels whose men are incredibly loyal to him. It would be so iconic, especially if he can't speak Basic and they all need to quickly learn his language. I'll write the rest down later.

Commander Pillar

First getting his name after managing to hold up a collapsing roof for an entire minute and thus saving the entire group he was with. Many see his name as being very fitting, with him being stable and determined, ready to lift others up and support them, and not breaking down under pressure. However, not many see the slightly awkward and unsure person underneath. Pillar is a strong leader who is good at getting people's respect, but he internally tends to doubt his plans and strategies, second guessing himself frequently.

He also initially felt weird and uncomfortable around his new general, not sure how to react to Kathiss' less humanoid form. He tried his best to remain professional, but felt slightly awkward about it, especially when other commanders asked what his Jedi was like. He was secretly a little embarrassed, but would scold himself for it since that was his superior officer and he shouldn't think those thoughts. His mind and relationship with Kathiss would change and evolve overtime, but it initially started with some one-sided tension.

Gradual Friendship

There were quite a few points where Kathiss honestly could not do something on his own or was too short to get somewhere, and Pillar would eventually ask him if he needed help. So Pillar had to lift up the general multiple times. There was one moment where Kathiss needed to yell at someone for a minute, but after a minute or two of yelling, he got tired of having to look up at them (plus it’s a bit hard to take him serious when he’s not at eye level), and he frustratedly asked Pillar if he could hold Kathiss at eye level. Pillar hesitated before doing so, in which the general proceeded to continue yelling at the person.

Overtime, they got to a point where, if Kathiss needed to talk to another at eye-level, he could ask Pillar to pick him up, to which the commander would do so. It became common enough for them to eventually develop a quick signal.

During one mission, Pillar, Kathiss, and some men needed to navigate an area that required human feet, and Kathiss couldn't slither for this one. So, they solved the problem by having Pillar carry Kathiss on his shoulders, since that’s the best position for him to be held.

They navigated through this place for about 2 hours, and afterwards, they honestly forgot that they didn't need to do it anymore, so Kathiss was on Pillar’s shoulders for almost the entire mission. They only remembered when they got back on the ship and went into a meeting with another Jedi and Commander, and the other Jedi commented on it.

Pillar and Kathiss both looked at each other and have this brief exchange:

“Do you need to be put down, General?”

“No, this is more convenient, honestly. Are you okay with it?”

“I’m comfortable with it.”

“Okay, then.” (Kathiss looks back to the other Jedi) “We’re fine like this.”

They then continued the rest of their day like that, and most of the others only briefly questioned it before deciding to just ignore it. So whenever they were off the field or not in the heat of battle, Kathiss would usually be sitting on Pillar’s shoulders, which was honestly convenient since it’s at eye level and they would be around each other a lot anyway. Everyone got used to it rather quickly, or at least all of their legion did.

They kind of became friends overtime, with Kathiss offering Pillar bits of wisdom and important life lessons, and Pillar becoming incredibly loyal to his general. Kathiss would assure Pillar and prevent him from spiraling, and Pillar would defend Kathiss against any slights or disparaging remarks regarding his appearance and status as a non-humanoid.

The Inhibitor Chip

Commander Pillar managed to get his chip taken out almost completely by accident. During a mission, Pillar, two soldiers, and a medic were all separated from the group due to an ambush splitting everyone up. The ambush involved a large number of bombs being dropped on them in the middle of an evacuated city, causing walls to fall and dividing the group into different areas.

Pillar had a large piece of shrapnel in his skull that managed not to kill him, but was incredibly dangerous nonetheless, and the medic, Steed, needed to take it out as soon as possible. Steed still had some supplies on him, so he and the two other soldiers found a damaged ship with some space for surgery, then conducted it there.

The shrapnel was lodged right near where Pillar’s chip was, so Steed assumed that it was another piece of shrapnel and didn’t take time to observe it or look at it too closely, simply throwing it away with the rest. Miraculously, Pillar survived the surgery, and they were all quickly rescued. Nobody ever really found out or realized Pillar’s chip had been taken out due it never being reported, as again, they thought it was just a bit of shrapnel, and they didn’t even realize there were any chips in the first place.

Order 66

When Order 66 happened, Pillar at first tried to order the troopers to stand down, but they refused, as the chips had already kicked in for most of them. Due to already holding the general, Pillar was able to run with Kathiss on his shoulders. The two of them made a plan to fake their own deaths while hiding from the others in an abandoned building. Pillar had some leftover bombs, so he stripped away his armor (with Kathiss also placing his robes next to it, then planted the bombs and ran out of the building before they detonated, resulting in that portion of the building collapsing on that spot. The mind-controlled troopers found the “remains” and presumed them dead.

Right before the bombs detonated, Pillar (with Kathiss still on his shoulders) managed to sneakily scale the side of a cliff nearby and climb into the woods. They luckily managed to find a ship which had crashed nearby, but was still somehow usable, and quickly fled the planet.

Post Order 66

The duo decided to go to Kathiss’ home planet, since they were unlikely to be discovered there. It was a mostly swamp-like planet and on the outer edges of the galaxy. They were taken in by some old friends Kathiss had made when he visited once, and after eventually learning about what happened to the other Jedi, Kathiss felt forced to leave behind his old life. They both did. So they decided to follow the dreams they had if they weren’t in the Order or the GAR.

Kathiss found a mate, and the pair had kids, while Pillar settled down nearby, becoming a woodworker since the village needed one, and he found woodcarving to be fun. Plus, creating things like homes and tools and furniture and whatnot felt nice to him. Kathiss and his mate soon had a clutch of 5 eggs, two years after Order 66 first occurred. Pillar was basically declared the godfather and vowed to help raise them, since it takes a village to raise a clutch of eggs.

Pillar was nervous about the idea of being involved since he didn’t know what the babies would be like, but he quickly grew to adore them. All of them were extremely happy and at peace. Sadly, half a year after the babies were born, the Empire came knocking. They had found Kathiss, and they killed him while fatally injuring his mate. Pillar had been babysitting the babies, and Kathiss’ mate managed to escape to his house nearby, told him what happened and that he needed to run away with the babies, then died. Pillar listened to her, scooped all the baby serpents up, and escaped using the old ship he and Kathiss came to the planet with.

Pillar, a bit paranoid, decided they needed to flee from planet to planet, and he raised the babies as his own, doing odd jobs and getting them a bigger ship to live in together.

~~~~~~

Might make a follow-up post talking about the snake kids and their clone dad, since I think it would be fun to explore. Definitely want to make some art of Pillar and Kathiss, though.

Hope you like these two and this storyline concept!

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

Yvraine used to be an infamous Corsair queen. Yvraine had the gall to take on the Queen of Knives (and even wounded her!), forged a sword from the Biel-Tani Infinity Circuit to summon a god, resurrected Rubric Marines just so she could throw them away in front of Ahriman's eyes, resurrected one of the human's demigods, forged an unprecedented alliance with the species, and broke into Nurgle's Garden to steal the Hand of Darkness, walked off with a not-insignificant number of Iyanden's ghost warriors, burned a genestealer-infected craftworld to ash, and fought off and claimed an incredibly powerful shard of Khaine. I'm sure she did more beyond what I listed, but I didn't pick up the books after Ghost Warrior.

I can count on the fingers of my hand the number of times Yvraine bothered with politeness throughout all that hullabaloo. She was polite during her conversations with that demigod fellow; she was polite when she asked Iyanden to use their ghosts; and she was initially polite during negotiations with Zaisuthra before she realized they were genestealers. Well, I guess we have proof that Yvraine can be diplomatic if need be. But throughout her lore, Yvraine is depicted as headstrong, dramatic, impatient, and not a little prickly. How does this characterization even remotely sound like someone inclined to play the sweet little wife in public? Hell, why would this person be content with playing the plus one to anyone?

Look, I got a real soft spot for Guillivraine. Shit, I was posting dirty things on this post just a little while ago. But that soft spot exists solely for a power couple of EQUALS. Not Roboute Guilliman and his perfectly fuckable tradwife. Not Roboute Guilliman and his hot dommy mommy. EQUALS. Yvraine is the Emissary of Ynnead, dammit. She is a powerful entity in her own right who has done the impossible again and again.

I know I'm being sharp here, and I'm sorry for losing my temper. I know you didn't mean anything. But I'm at the end of my rope, and I guess this is the straw that broke the camel's back. I went to Reddit, and Yvraine was reduced to a series of holes for primarch cock. I went to aeldari spaces, and she was sneered at for wanting to kill all aeldari (WAT) and for being a plus one to humans. That one really hurt. I wasn't surprised about the gooners gooning, but I would've expected at least some of the aeldari fans to check out this new character's lore. Nope, it was the same damn gooner memes, but in a negative light. Almost none of Yvraine's story has anything to do with Guilliman, for crying out loud!

Now the aeldari codex comes out and ruthlessly destroys everything good and interesting about the Ynnari. THE WHOLE POINT OF THE SEVENTH PATH IS TO RAISE YNNEAD WITHOUT DESTROYING THE AELDARI! It feels like I'm the only person who bothered to read and think about Yvraine's lore. I should be the noob flailing around, I came in years late and only read Ghost Warrior! Yes, I am extremely aware of how shit Gav Thorpe's writing is, but if people can consume Dark Angel or Asuryani lore, they can damn well consume Ynnari lore, too.

Anyways here's a readthrough of The Fracture of Biel-Tan. Yvraine kicks lots of ass in it. Y'all can listen while you cook or craft or whatever.

Oh wow, just blocked a bunch of Anons who are hating on me for saying Yvraine is a freak in the sheets.

Dude, my man/woman/it, she spent centuries in Cromoaggah, BDSM central. Girl is a sexual freak! If she could find one strong enough to support his weight, she would have Guilliman strapped up like a sexual pinata!

It is Canon Aeldari are freaks! Getting their freak on is how we got Slannesh! Asurian's suppress the shit out of those urges, but Drukhari are snorting coke of a male stripers ass before doing body shots off some big titty slave who is only alive because she has a nice rack.