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ghost-proofbaby · 10 months ago

Text

kissing lessons, pt. 2

summary: you and robin face the music that maybe the kissing lessons aren't just lessons after all.

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: even more sapphic yearning than the first one (in my opinion), lots of religious imagery scattered sporadically, and a lots of hints/passing mentions of homophobia (no talk of violence, etc.) that was normal in the 80s. there's even more discussion of reader conforming to the usual and dating a boy. once again, reader is explicitly female.

wc: 3.3k+

a/n: i cannot explain how healing writing this has been. shout out to younger me for surviving the way my own experience ended with a lot more heartbreak - you deserved a robin buckley, baby ghost. and thank you to everyone who read the first one and was so very kind. i am eternally grateful <3

part 1 here

It was your own damn fault, probably.

Robin may have been the one to ignite the fire, so prettily asking to start having those godforsaken kissing lessons, but you’d be the one clutching a bottle of gasoline. You’d been the one fanning the flames with each arrangement you’d insist upon, Saturday after Saturday always being spent one predictable way: kissing your best friend.

In your bedroom, in her living room, behind the slide at the park.

Mid-afternoon, early mornings, in the dead of night.

Any time that you can find an excuse for it, your lips were attached to Robin Buckley’s, chipping away at your own demise, and it was all your fault.

There wasn’t a handbook for this, though. There was no pamphlet to explain all the butterflies that would erupt in your stomach every time she’d smile at you slyly just before she’d lean it to initiate the kisses, no how-to for stopping the shake in your hands as you’d cradle thighs and cheeks alike as if they were the most sacred of sacrifices, no survival guide for all the heartache that now haunts your every waking moment when you think about the smell of her perfume. You had no one who could explain away your obsession with the taste of passion fruit lip smackers these days.

You were in love with your best friend, and it sort of felt like some type of terrible shipwreck done by your own recklessness.

And if she felt even an ounce of the same way, you couldn’t see it. You simply couldn’t allow yourself to read any further into the brushes of her hand in the hallways that had grown more consistent. If you daydreamed too long about the way she’d been so overly supportive of you wearing skirts to school more often these days, you’d quite possibly self-implode. It was all a dangerous game, a hopeless drowning in the middle of the Atlantic, and you were just letting it happen.

“Why was that Connor guy talking to you in the hall today?”

And if you read too much into what you so desperately wanted to describe as jealousy in her tone right now, you’d certainly combust in the blink of an eye.

It wasn’t even a Saturday – it was a Friday. Saturdays were the holy days, the days in which you could guarantee you’d taste her all over your tongue and be allowed to gather all your offerings in the form of worshiping whispers and guiding movements as she straddled your lap. The rest of the week, the two of you were nothing more than the best of friends. On Fridays, you should be nothing but two girls who find innocent and platonic solace in one another.

It’s just hard to do when all you’re capable of thinking about is how soft the skin of her neck was nearly a week ago, when your lips had trailed down to her pulse point in such feathery light brushes.

“Oh!” you sit up from where you’d been spread out on her bed, looking up at her with sudden excitement as you watch her spin in her desk chair, “I forgot to tell you! Holy shit, you’re going to love this.”

The moment it had happened, you’d started mentally counting down the moments until you’d have the chance to tell Robin of the awkward conversation. You can’t believe you’d forgotten about it so easily once you’d gotten the girl alone.

She pauses her spinning immediately, blinking rapidly as she was clearly dizzy, “What do you mean? Why am I going to love it?”

“He asked me out to milkshakes.”

You wait. And wait. And wait. Nearly quaking with all the anticipation for your best friend to burst out into laughter with you over the irony of it all.

You just keep waiting.

The laughter never escapes Robin, her face stoic as she doesn’t even smile. All the giggles and rolling of eyes you’d expected to share is completely erased with that look on her face currently. A look you almost mistake as hurt, a look that reaches far beyond jealousy.

The look of someone standing amongst the wreckage of an abandoned ship.

When she finally speaks again, with deflated shoulders and the corners of her mouth down-turned, it’s soft enough you almost miss it. “Did you say yes?”

It was the one question you hadn’t been expecting – you’d assumed it had been a given that you’d turn the poor boy down.

“Obviously not,” you snort, uneasy as you rifle through your mind, a sudden desperation to make Robin smile or to lighten the mood immediately rearing its head.

“Obviously?”

This conversation is very much not going the way you had seen it play out in your head. Robin’s missing all of her lines, none of her expressions lining with the directorial vision you’d been gifted with when the moment had happened.

No saccharine laughter, no sweet joy. None of the sugared reactions are rotting your teeth out.

Instead, there’s just a strange and hollow ache. The vacant expression of Robin’s face that twitches ever so slightly with something more below the surface, and a tension in the air that wraps around your throat tightly.

“Yeah, I mean,” you choke out, trying to stave off your discomfort, “We both know how I feel about milkshake dates. And besides, he wanted to go tomorrow, and we already have plans-”

“You could’ve said yes,” she blurts out. As soon as the words fall in the space between you two, she’s wide-eyed, staring at you like a scared deer caught up in your headlights, “Our plans- They-” she pauses, and takes a deep breath that almost looks painful, “You could have said yes if you wanted to. I’d live. Plus, it’d give you a chance to put our lessons to use.”

No sweetness, only a sour on your tongue that makes your face twist. “Why would I use our lessons on Connor from pottery?”

Why would I ever want to kiss somebody that isn’t you?

The thought easily makes you sick to your stomach. The lips of someone who isn’t Robin Buckley pressed to yours, the hands of someone who isn’t your best friend tracing the curves of your body. You think you’d rather die.

“I dunno,” Robin is mumbling now, almost looking ashamed. The last thing you’d wanted to do was shame her. You’d just wanted to share a laugh with your best friend, “That was sort of the point, right? You wanted to get good at kissing-”

“We,” you correct her.

“What?”

“We wanted to get good at kissing. You can’t tell me there’s no boys in the band that have asked you out or you’d have a chance to kiss. You’re…” Even as the words are ash in your mouth, sticking to the roof of your mouth and making it hard to breathe, you force it all out. The only words left are the truth, anyways, “Beautiful, Robs. You’re fucking stunning, and funny, and so kind. Who’s your Connor from poetry, hm?”

It’s a dagger to the heart. It’s alcohol on a paper cut, salt in a throbbing wound. Every cliche and morbid pain in the books is racing through you at what you’ve just said. Asking her about boys is worse than simply accepting it as a hypothetical. Having to actually hear about boys chasing after the girl that’s occupied you irrevocably is worse than imagining them all.

At least in your imagination, they could all be fumbling over their feet, falling to the dirt as Robin cackles and arrives straight to her original destination – you. At least in your imagination, you stand a chance.

“God, no,” she scrunches her nose up, immediately standing from her chair, “Oh my God, no. Ew. I don’t- I’d never-”

“You’d never?” you raise an eyebrow, watching as she nearly starts to pace.

“We were talking about you!” she bursts out, arms flailing out beside her, spinning so she was stood right in front of you, “You and Colton-”

“Connor.”

“-and how you should go get milkshakes with him! You should’ve said yes, okay? You could say you have a boyfriend when you get to college if you’d said yes.”

Boyfriend. A word that will never, ever leave your lips. Not just when it came to Connor – when it came to all the boys in your school. All the boys in your town. All the boys in the goddamn world.

That word doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, too confining. Strangles you in all the wrong places and makes your chest constrict in the worst way.

You don’t want a boyfriend.

You want your best friend to stop pacing, you want your best friend to hold your hand, you want it to be Saturday and for your best friend to kiss your fucking face off.

Pathetic, only because you don’t think you’ll ever find the nerve to say it to her out loud.

“Who cares if I have a boyfriend when I go to college?” you spit out, struggling to even say the damn word, “I could give two shits if I-”

“I care!” Robin is turning erratic, wild as she tugs at her hair and looks at you with such misplaced desperation. You don’t know what she wants from you – you can’t give her what she’s asking of you, “I care, because you deserve to have that normal experience. You should be out there, kissing boys and going on dates to share a milkshake and- and- and… not spending your Saturdays with me, hiding away and kissing me and sharing chapstick and making me feel all these stupid feelings-”

She cuts off roughly, a small gasp leaving her lips as she realizes what she’s just said.

Making me feel all these stupid feelings.

“What do you mean by that?” you whisper, sharing at her, shocked, “What do you mean by stupid feelings-”

“Forget it.”

“No.”

“Yes,” she pleads, taking a step back when you stand up in front of her, “Dear God, please forget I ever said that. I’m literally begging you.”

Stupid feelings.

What does she even define as stupid feelings?

Is it that her heart races whenever you suggest another lesson? Is it that warmth that spreads head to toe every time you grab her hand casually? Is it all that pain with nowhere to go at the end of the day, when you bury your face in a pillow and scream out all the what-ifs you assume you’ll never explore in this lifetime?

You think about your parents. The ones who are never home, or are oblivious in the kitchen as you shut your door and quickly return to your bed, where your best friend is awaiting you eagerly just to get her tongue down your throat. You think of Robin’s parents, who force her to go to church every Sunday, never realizing she can still taste the strawberry chapstick all over her lips come morning. Whispering all their prayers in the same tone she’d whispered your name the night before. You think about all the peers your age who spend their Saturday nights in diners, sharing milkshakes and planning their futures – their normal futures.

White picket fence, a mid-size dog to run around the yard. Two and a half kids, and a wedding ring gleaming on the finger on their left hand directly connected to their heart. The same one that Robin always fiddles with while the two of you sit and do homework together, the same one Robin once slipped an old coin-machine ring onto as a joke when you were thirteen, cackling about some sort of marriage pact that had every adult in vicinity glaring at the two of you.

All the things you can’t dream about. Because when you do, it’s never the nice boy your father points out at the grocery store. It’s never that boy your mother finds absolutely darling, who lives two houses down and has offered to mow your lawn numerous times.

Every time you try to picture it, it’s with Robin.

Her with a matching ring you’ve bought for a quarter, her lipstick staining the matching mug on your kitchen counter during a quiet morning. Kids with her freckles, kids with all her spunk. A dog she’d name something incredibly niche, and that you’d fight her on endlessly, but end up giving in simply because you love her.

Whenever you try to look to the future, it’s with the girl before you, who has tears gathering in her lash line now. Embarrassment painting every inch of her exposed skin, and her chest stuttering with every gasping breath.

Stupid feelings. You’d become entirely acquainted with stupid feelings, you just hadn’t realized that Robin had as well.

“What do you mean by that, Robs?” your voice cracks, begging all but on your knees at this moment. Everything you could possibly want right in an arm’s reach.

You don’t even need the picket fence or the dog. Kids could vanish right from the dream. The house could become a quaint apartment in the city. The morning coffee could be traded for peppermint tea. As long as the thing that never changes is her, you don’t really care where the visions lead.

She says your name so softly, you nearly break down entirely. You want to hear it for the rest of your days. The way the shape of your name curls around her tongue and falls from her lips, “You should just forget I said anything, I mean it. Go home and call Connor-”

“Fuck Connor!” you suddenly raise your voice, so entirely done with all the boy talk. All the expectations and all the definitions of normal. Your finger on your left hand, connected directly to your heart, throbs. “I don’t want to share some half-melted milkshake with that… with that… idiot! I want to share it with the idiot in front of me right now. I don’t want to practice kissing on him, I want to practice with you. I don’t want him, and I don’t want that boy who bags groceries at Melvald’s, and I don’t-”

Robin Buckley is the brave one. She shuts you up about all the ones you don’t want, by giving you the one thing you do want.

Soft palms, soft lips. Gentle hesitation to soothe the scars of a future you never really cared for. Fruity lip balm that somehow perfectly matches airy perfume.

She’s kissing you like her life depends on it. Like she’s feeling an ache in the joints of that finger connected to the heart, and she just can’t take it anymore. Like she loves you. Or at least likes you.

And you’ll take what you can get when you reach up to grab onto her anywhere you can find. Bunching her shirt at her hip with your first, fingers curling around her forearm that’s connected to the hand cradling your cheek. You can’t possibly lean into it all enough; can’t press your lips any tighter against hers, can’t have any more of your limbs bumping into hers as you stumble backwards and onto her bed.

She’s crawling over you, little puffs of breaths escaping between kisses, hovering above you with a halo of sunlight leaking in through her bedroom window.

She looks like a God you don’t believe in, and one she can’t be spoon-fed to worship anymore. All holier notions are focused on you. Fingers trailing their way up under your shirt and hips bumping against yours as you both try to learn what to do with this new position.

It’s better than your best friend seated in your lap, timidly moving her tongue. It’s nicer.

“Stupid feelings,” you breathe out when she moves to pepper kisses on your cheek, on your jaw, on your neck, “Stupid fucking feelings.”

“Sometimes, I wish we’d never started the lessons, you know?” she whispers when she pauses at your collarbone, peering up at you with those glossy blue eyes. Oceans deep, ready for your ship to roll right into. Ready for your ship to crash in. “It made all of this so much harder and complicated.”

Your fingers slide into her hair, tugging at the sporadic pieces that you’d helped cut a year ago. The saddest excuse for layers ever, “Made what harder?”

You want to hear her say it. You need to hear her say it.

“Liking you.”

If hearts could burst, yours would be fluttering shreds behind your ribs. Nothing more than the aftermath of finally, finally, hearing those words fall from her lips.

“You like me?” your cheeks ache immediately from your grin, so wide it occupies your entire face. You swear you can see its reflection in her eyes.

Her head lifts and you see some of the fear still lingering behind her own smile, “Yeah, doofus. I like you. A lot, actually. And I just always assumed you liked that Cooper boy-”

“His name is Connor.”

“I know,” she laughs, face contorting as she bites back more giggles. It’s no use though, as her head falls forward and her forehead lands on the center of your chest, “I just- God, I sort of hated him. I heard him ask you out for the milkshake and I just wanted to punch the dude-”

“You heard?” you’re laughing now, head thrown back, “I’m sorry, you knew why I was talking to him, and you still tried to play all coy and ask me?”

“Can you blame a girl for trying?”

No. No, you really couldn’t. You can only imagine the ridiculous plans you’d elaborately conjure if you’d ever overheard a boy asking Robin out on a date. All the jealousy ploys and childish schemes, born out of all the sunshine she’s been instilling in you since the first day you’d met her.

And imagining that is fine. But what you no longer have to imagine is a Robin who chooses you, the scenario in which you can simply grab her and kiss her until you’ve run out of breaths and your lungs have shriveled into nothing more than feathers in your chest.

So you do.

You tug her back up to you and kiss her, far more languid than she’d initially kissed you. The slow movements of lips with all the time in the world. The steady movements of hands that belong as you run them over her shoulders and down her back, bring them to those hips you’d been adoring every Saturday.

You kiss Robin Buckley on a Friday, simply because you can.

Nice, your mind rings out. Nice, nice, nice.

This was nice – this was right. None of that discomfort at the thought of letting Connor kiss you, no strangulation at the word boyfriend. You feel like you can breathe for the first time in your life as you kiss your best friend serenely and let all of that love seep out of your skin when it presses to hers. In the background of it all, a new word forms, a soft blanket of comfort rather than something to wrap around your throat.

Girlfriend.

Now that? That sounds nice.

“Hey,” Robin says when she pulls back slowly, tip of her nose still bumping yours, the weight of her still between your thighs, “Do you want to…. I don’t know, go get a milkshake with me or something?”

You don’t think about either of your parents, or any of the self-righteous vipers who might be prowling the town on a Friday night. You know it won’t be the same as going to the diner with a nice boy – you know you won’t be able to kiss her on the street or cuddle up quite as obviously, keep her quite as close as you so desperately ached to, but it was okay.

It was enough. For now.

“Only if we can get strawberry,” you quip, unable to help yourself as you lean up for another brief peck.

The peck isn’t enough. You don’t think any amount of Robin’s treacly kisses would ever be enough. You’d probably spend an entire lifetime just trying to get your fill.

“Deal,” she rasps, clearly sharing the sentiment as she leans back down, kissing you right back. Eager lips not quite satisfied.

There would be no screaming or crying into pillows tonight.

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#ghost's stories #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley fanfic #stranger things #i need a robin buckley to just kiss through laughter and share a milkshake with #the feminine urge to write the actual milkshake date is strong but who knows

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jd-loves-fiction · 3 months ago

Note

Sorry, two requests in one go but I NEED TO GET THIS OFF MY SYSTEM OR I FORGET

Same platonic dynamic with Boothill, Welt, Jing Yuan and Blade with reader who turned into a small child all of a sudden (around 2-3 years old, so toddler)

🌑 RAAHHH FEED ME (I couldnt resist the angst sowy :)) Also am I crazy or do they all give girl dad... they all feel like girl dad's to me, expect maybe Jing Yuan 😅

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Possibly the most experienced in this field actually???

Not to remind y'all of the absolute angst of his backstory, but he adopted a little kid in the past so... he's actually pretty knowledgeable when it comes to kids

Doesnt make this smooth sailing tho

Firstly, he's super confused on how this happened and how to undo it - spends so much time stressing about it that he almost forgets he has to take care of you now until you start screaming

Now that he's looking at you, oh you're so cute it should be illegal

Cuteness aggression to the max with the most self-restraint a man could possibly have (knowing he could easily seriously hurt you)

Once he accepts that his only option is waiting it out, he's focusing on making sure you're comfy

Surprisingly very in tune with your wants and needs

Overall, you'll be well taken care of with him, though the moment you're soundly asleep, memories of the past come back to haunt him, reminding him of all he lost

Though he reasons with himself that the past has passed and all he can do is keep going without letting it drag him down

And you're helping him do just that ❤️

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

Utterly confounded

Mostly just curious

How did this happen? Do you still have your memories? Did your brain also revert back?

But he also cant deny how freaking cute you are🥺

Very gentle, holding you close, whispering softly even if you're screaming - makes you sleepy immediately

If you start screaming incoherently he's gonna have a hard time figuring out what you need but will try his best and remain calm the whole time

Does anything you want him to, literally

Want to play dolls? He's making a cute voice and everything. Want him to read to you? Putting on the softest tone known to man and putting you to sleep before you're through the first page

This also applies to food - whatever you want to eat, he's letting you, since he knows this situation must be pretty stressful and he doesnt want you start screaming at him :(

Once it's over he probably wont mention it again to you in case you think it's embarrassing, but will keep the sweet memory close to his heart - it makes him feel fuzzy to think he could take care of you when you're so vulnerable

Also you're just so damn cute, he cant get over it 😭

✦ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 ✦

Give him a second he's gonna have to laugh about this for a while

Decent experience with teens and older children because of Yanqing and other students he's trained, but toddlers?

No clue, he's so lost

Genuinely tries to apply lion cub logic

It's the closest experience he's had to raising a kid ok?! He's trying 🥺

Probably ends up getting yelled at by Yanqing because no, human children do not work in any way similarly to lion cubs >:(

After that he's trying a little harder

He's surrounded by people who know more than him on this so he's putting you on his hip and carrying you around while he asks them what to do

Comes back to his office after and puts you down, not realizing that you're crawling over to Mimi

Nearly has a heart attack once he does realize but it's all good, Mimi's a good boy and just naps while you play with his mane

He was honestly ready to use you as an excuse to not do this work and seeing you napping with Mimi just solidifies it for him

The next time Yanqing comes by to make sure you're ok, he finds you all cuddled up on Mimi, so he leaves with a fond sigh

Jing yuan was totally awake btw

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Oh sweet god he is not equipped for this AT ALL

Immediatly running to Kafka or Firefly for help (Silver Wolf is suddenly not so mysteriously absent) and they are somehow even less helpful than he is

Grumbling the whole time but does try his best to care for you

Does NOT know why you're screaming pls stop 😭

Has a surprising among of patience - he knows what children are like, so he's not blaming you for anything you do or losing it on you

He's good at keeping himself calm when the situation doesnt require him to lose his shit

Excels at... napping :)

Honest to god cant think of much else to do with you besides putting a sword in your hand, which both Kafka and Firefly scold for even thinking about

Cant really blame him, that's what his parents did and he turned out just fine :) (Note the sarcasm)

Something in his cold (literally) dead heart warms at the sight of you fumbling about and smiling sweetly at him

He never thought himself particularly inviting but he sure doesnt mind that you think so

The whole situation has him pondering his past but most of all, his humanity - what he lost of it and what he still has

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cloversnstrawberries · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request a platonic yandere Stars members (Wesker, Jill, Chris, etc) with a fellow stars member

If won't/don't do multiple people, could you do Wesker or Chris

All of your work has been very good and I love the layout of your blog and the actual work

Have a good day or night

platonic!yandere!S.T.A.R.S & S.T.A.R.S!gn!reader headcanons ! !

masterlist !

includes albert wesker, jill valentine, chris redfield, and rebecca chambers !

additional notes; hello!! i absolutely can do multiple people, and thank you so much for dropping this request, i had a lot of fun writing it :) and aaugudhg,,, i literally died when i read this,, you're so sweet (˃̣̣̥ ︿ ˂̣̣̥) i'm sorry i took so long to finish this!! i really wanted to make sure they all had a lot of content/were equal (more or less) in word count :D i also hope i got their characterizations correct,,

the dynamics for this is fatherly albert, big sister jill, big brother chris (+sister claire, because i find myself incapable of not including her), and little sister rebecca!! yandere found family dynamics.. yandere found family dynamics save me...

warnings; Overprotectiveness, possessiveness, jealousy, (very slightly) implied kidnapping(?), manipulation, guns, light violence/mention of, Reader being left out of the loop, isolation, and probably more that i may have forgotten :[ if you think there's any I should add, please let me know!! :D

w/c; Albert (3.0k) | Jill (2.6k) | Chris (2.9k) | Rebecca (3.3k)

Albert Wesker

Even if you weren't qualified for it, he'd have you on the Alpha team. You’d been shooting for a position in the Bravo team, but somehow-- someway, you managed to charm your way into the captains good graces, enough for him to put you in the Alpha team,

Don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean you're going on missions with them. There were a few times where you did-- only because his higher ups (Umbrella, though you didn’t know that’s who he had to answer to) forced Wesker's hand, saying that you'd need to be demoted if you weren't actually going out in the field.

No, you were usually stuck behind, doing paperwork. You weren't complaining-- not usually, anyways. Yes, it often got boring and repetitive at times; but it's leagues better than the chaos you'd had to endure on the few required missions you went on every now-and-again.

And even then, your captain claimed they were some of the more mild missions the team had gone on. If that was mild, you sure as hell didn't want to see what the extreme could possibly be.

All in all, you were pretty alright with being saddled with all the technical things-- there were some you couldn't do, like the personal recounts that members had to fill out after a particularly high-stakes mission; but you did a good chunk of it.

One time, when you were heading to the break room for your lunch-- passing by Wesker's office, you heard him being... unusually loud. Animated, you're sure; the frosted window giving way to the interior obscured the finer details, but you could still see how he paced back and forth.

His hand was pressed to his ear-- no, his hand was holding a phone; the kind that can detach from their bases, that he was pressing to his ear, and you could practically feel the agitation that was just radiating off of him in droves.

It's not your fault-- that your curiosity got the best of you. That you tucked yourself against the nearby wall and pressed your ear to the door. If Wesker ever found out that you'd been eavesdropping, then he'd surely demote you-- or fire you entirely, was the more logical conclusion.

Which gave you all the more reason to not get caught. Despite it all, you liked this job. You liked the people you worked with-- you couldn't bare the thought of losing this job, if only because of your beloved co-workers.

The door was thick, but your captain was loud enough that you could catch most of the conversation.

It seemed like he was talking to his higher-ups-- strange, the thought of him having to answer to anyone but himself. It makes sense, though-- now that you've come face to face with it.

"I'm not sending them with the others," was what you heard first. You wondered who he was talking about-- and what he wouldn't be sending this mysterious person to, that seemingly, all other S.T.A.R.S members were going to.

...Quickly, you realized the only logical conclusion was that he referring to you. Maybe it was a high-stake mission, and whoever held authority over him (God, that never stops feeling like a strange concept to you) was saying you hadn't met whatever mission-quota required to stay on the Alpha team.

Which checks out, seeing as you were trained for the Bravo team-- graduating in the same class as Rebecca Chambers, not a single lick of real-world experience under your belt; you got the job on the basis that it'd be smaller stuff. Easy stuff, something a rookie like yourself could easily do without much trouble or personal harm.

For some god-forsaken reason, Captain Wesker was certain you'd make a fantastic fit for the Alpha team.

Whoever his higher-ups were, didn't seem to agree with him at all. And you wouldn't blame them! The last mission left you so shaken that Wesker told-- no, demanded-- you to take PTO. Reluctantly, you'd gone along with it. he sent you away with a pat on the shoulder, telling you to relax-- not worry about work for the three days he'd allotted you.

You weren't even sure if he could do that, just hand you PTO out of the blue. But then again, he is your boss-- and you have no personal experience in being such a thing to anyone, so who's to say.

Suddenly, a crash sounded out behind the door-- you jumped, leaning just a little further forward to make sure nothing seriously bad happened--

One of the chairs opposite from Wesker's own, the ones he'd tell anyone from interviewees to employees to have a seat in-- had somehow tilted over, and the loud crash was from when it collided with the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume that Wesker had, in a fit of uncharacteristic (to your knowledge) and explosive anger, shoved the innocent piece of furniture over.

A funny though— your captain, usually so calm and collected, doing something as silly as shoving a over a chair because he was having a tough time with his boss(es),

Really, you should've pulled yourself back-- but you felt rooted to the spot, watching as the clouded, but still recognizable, figure of Albert Wesker was absolutely just seething inside the office-- even through the barrier, you could see how tightly he was gripping the phone. Any harder, and it'd probably turn to dust in his palm.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration-- but he was holding it very, very tightly; his jaw clenched so hard that you worried for his teeth. If it'd been you, your teeth would've cracked ages ago with how tightly he grinding them together.

"I don't care what the execs want, Birkin! They're not going. I'm not sending them in like the others." Huh. That was the first time you'd ever gotten a name to the mysterious, possible higher-ups of your captain. You don't recognize the name from the precinct-- or any branch of Raccoon City law enforcement.

Maybe not a higher-up, then? Perhaps an acquaintance, or someone on a similar level of work hierarchy as Wesker? Maybe even a friend, if you were feeling so inclined.

But that didn't explain why they appeared to be talking about something relating to S.T.A.R.S, about a mission that you (you assumed he was talking about you, but you could be wrong) were being completely barred from for seemingly no reason.

Then, Wesker laughed-- an incredulous sort of noise, equal parts angry as it was mocking to whoever was on the receiving end of this phone call.

"What's got him so riled up...?" You mumble to yourself, unable to keep in your confusion-- as soon as you realized your mistake, Wesker paused. You darted back, heart pounding-- you should just head for your lunch break already. you were afforded a generous 30 minutes, but you'd probably used 1/4th of the time allotted,

If you weren’t careful, you'd waste half, or maybe even the entirety, of your break; if you didn’t restrain your curiosity soon,

And yet, you didn't leave. Didn't turn on your heel and run away like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Warily, you stared at the door-- willing the knob not to turn, praying to whatever would answer you that your boss hadn't heard that little question you'd intended entirely for yourself.

When you pacing started up again, his heavy boots thudding against the scratched hardwood floor of his office-- you breathed a quiet sigh of relief, and continued the task at hand.

This time, you didn't dare lean forward to see what he was doing. Having learned your lesson, you stayed far from the window; but just close enough to hear clearly.

A heavy, heaving sigh came next-- and you could practically visualize it now, your captains ever-present sunglasses pushed up to rest on his head, disturbing his perfectly gelled hair just a tad-- fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"What am I going to do with them, huh?" He... was repeating what the other person, this Birkin, said over the phone-- you think. That's the only way you could make sense of why he could've possibly said that.

A few moments of silence followed, before Wesker-- tone eerily calm, such a stark contrast to the irritated-- no, dare you say enraged-- demeanor he'd had less than five minutes ago.

It was giving you whiplash-- Wesker didn't make much sense with his emotions and personal actions on a good day, when he was actively trying to make himself understandable to you and the other S.T.A.R.S members.

He must be pretty damn close with this Birkin person-- making no attempts to hide his strangeness, the almost cryptic and archaic way he experienced and expressed his feelings.

"Well, you know better than to think I'll spill it all over the phone, Birkin." The name was said more fondly, supporting the idea that this Birkin was a friend of your captains-- we all get annoyed with our friends form time to time, yeah? Maybe that was it.

Maybe... this wasn't even about S.T.A.R.S at all? Would that be considered a stretch? You aren't too sure, the nerves eating away at you eased at the thought-- the idea that Albert was simply speaking about his own personal affairs.

In the absence of your anxiety about being involved in whatever he was talking about, you felt an immense guilt settle, heavy and suffocating in the back of your mind.

You had half the mind to just turn on your heel and head back to work-- to eat lunch at your desk, and work twice as hard on your assignments that day. Either because you wanted something to take your mind off the fact that you butted in on your Captains personal life (something he's obviously very cagey about in the first place, god knows how he'd react knowing that you'd pried some information about it from listening into his conversation, while he stayed entirely unaware to your presence) -- whichever made the most sense. Both, if you were feeling like being honest with yourself.

But, the next thing he said made your blood run cold-- your muscles lock up and your spine straighten. You're sure you resembled a rabbit ready to bolt than a trained (albeit new) member of S.T.A.R.S.

"But I'll let you in on a little secret," His voice wasn't as loud as it was clear-- precise, and it felt as if he was directly addressing you-- but you knew that couldn't possibly have been it.

"I've grown rather fond of them, and I don't feel like giving them up to be one of our little lab rats.” After that ominous bit of information was dropped like a bomb on you, Wesker went quiet.

The person on the other side of the phone must've been responding-- within half a minute, Wesker continued speaking himself.

"I wouldn't call them a pet, Birkin. More like a companion. To call them a pet would suggest they're so much lower than me; which isn't true at all." For a split second-- despite all the... strangeness of his other words, and the context of it all (no matter how disjointed and incomplete it was with you), you let warmth curl around your heart and ease any aches and pains.

For a second, you'd imagined that-- minus the clear superiority complex, he could've been giving you this odd compliment. Could be complimenting you to his friend.

You knew it wasn't so, but you couldn't help but dream for it. You always craved Wesker's praise and approval, no matter how pathetic it'd be to admit that, it was the truth. Honestly, you're surprised you haven't accidentally called him dad before.

And if you did let something like that slip without catching yourself, you'd hand in your two-week notice yourself-- given that you don't die of embarrassment before you had the chance to.

He laughed-- you'd never heard him do that before. Sure, he’s chuckled before; and he'd snickered a few times, but never laughed.

You were shocked by how he laughed-- it seemed more fit for a cartoon villain rather than a specialized police force captain. Maybe that's why he didn't do it often? Previously, you'd just assumed he found very little amusement in most things; or was just physically incapable of laughing for some unforeseen reason.

He'd stopped pacing a little while ago-- you'd been far more focused on his words, that you hardly saw a point in keeping track of his movement, or lack of such.

But, oh god, did you realize it when he started moving again--

It sounded like he was heading toward the door.

"I know, Birkin." Your captain said-- his voice closer. Fear gripped your heart; you had to move, you had to move now, or he'd find you out and you'd be absolutely done for-- That's something you can't really get past in this line of work, eavesdropping on your bosses private conversations-- whether or not he was speaking with a higher-up or a personal acquaintance.

No matter what, if that door opened and he saw you-- then you could kiss your job goodbye, and probably any chance to get a different job in this field ever again.

Nobody liked a Nosy Nancy, did they? Especially not Wesker-- who'd snapped at nearly everyone (noticeably, everyone but you) who'd had the misfortune of even entering the goddamn breakroom while he was in there and taking a call.

He laughed again, far too close for comfort-- you had enough wits about you to stumble back; if he were to open the door now, your position wouldn't as incriminating as before. No longer bracing against the wall, ear pressed to the door of his office.

But still, not a very good look; you just standing there. But your curiosity would be the end of you-- it made you stay stuck to the spot, wanting to catch the last bit of the conversation, even if you didn't understand it at all.

"Yes, yes. I'll be sure to keep them out of your work. As long as you keep your work from them, You know how I feel about my things getting damaged." The knob began to turn-- and as the door began to creak open, the beep! from his phone signaling that the call was over--

You still didn't move, not until the very last minute; turning on your heel, you barely got a few steps forward before your heart dropped your stomach, at the sound of--

"How long have you been out here?" He... didn't sound mad. A strange undertone of... amusement, you think, colored his tone. Fear and relief flooded your body at once-- relief at the idea that he didn't know any better,

And fear that you'd have to either fess up, or lie to cover your ass.

"I just got here, sir." You said, lying through your teeth. It's moments like these, where the fact he's always wearing sunglasses makes you feel even more nervous then if he wasn't-- because, as it was, he was absolutely impossible to get a read on, expression wise.

Then again, there's no real telling if him losing the sunglasses would help at all-- but it still gave you immense anxiety. Not being able to see the look in his eyes, not being able to see any possible emotion he may hold in them.

A few seconds pass by, spent by internally queueing up your goodbyes to your fellow co-workers-- bracing yourself for the worse, for him the reveal that he knew you were lying; because obviously, he'd know. You were an awful liar, and he'd told you so numerous times before,

Though, always with a sort of fondness in his tone-- the kind he never seemed to spare to anyone besides you. At least when you're present, that it-- could be a completely different story while you out of the room.

...Probably not, given how your colleagues always seem to surprised by how 'soft' Wesker was with you-- it'd gained him the nickname 'momma bird', only whispered when you all know that there's not chance of him finding out about it.

"Hm," He said-- before stepping to the side, pulling the door with him, his arm outstretched, silently inviting you inside. You didn't take it, still so nervous-- had he seen you? did he see through your lie?

"Well then, aren’t you going come in? There is something you wish to speak with me about, yes? Or were you just checking in on my well-being?” Finally, you felt the pressing weight of absolute hopelessness lift from your shoulders, the tension visibly leaving your body all at once.

He quirked a brow at your silence, at your immobility-- you jolted, and nodded enthusiastically, scanning your brain for anything you could possibly talk to him about. You'd just been on your way to lunch-- that was it, you had nothing to speak with him about.

But he seemed... expectant. And you swore you saw a smirk on his face--

Well, it was better not to overanalyze it. You followed his 'invitation' (more like a command) and headed into his office; he gestured to the two chairs opposite of his own bigger, fancier one-- he hadn't picked the chair up from the ground yet, you realize.

You stood there for a moment, before picking it up for him. However, you sit in the other one. He gave you a token "Thank you." Before walking around the desk and sitting in his own chair.

Never in your life had you been so quick to bullshit some random, silly question-- that strange little smirk never left his face, but you opted to ignore it in its entirety. If you kept thinking about it, that'd only serve to make you even more anxious.

You didn't know it-- you didn't know how he was looking at you from beneath the sunglasses, like he was studying you. Like he was planning something-- and maybe if you had, maybe if his eyes hadn't been obscured and you would've somehow caught the concerning glint in them, then maybe you could've saved yourself a hell of a lot of trouble down the line.

Jill Valentine

When you first joined S.T.A.R.S, you and and Jill hit it off in an instant-- getting along like a house on fire, Chris jokingly remarked.

You could either be on Alpha or Bravo team, but no matter what, Jill latched onto you like nobodies business. Showing you around the office-- at times hijacking the tour your boss was giving, just so she could give it herself. She always got away with it because she was so enthusiastic about it.

If you were on Alpha team, she'd constantly be pairing up with you during missions; no doubt about it, she's keeping you as close as humanly possible. You don't have a choice in it.

Now, if you were apart of Bravo-- she'd definitely try to change that, to put a good word in for you to Wesker... only to get shot down, and for him to tell her that you were right where you were supposed to be. And unless you showed a 'great deal of talent he otherwise hasn't seen', then you would stay with the Bravos.

Suddenly, after that conversation, she started to drag you from your desk and take you to the shooting range-- like, daily. She'd try her best to help you improve anyway she could, including (but certainly not limiting) how to handle a gun, how to properly utilize a melee weapon against both an unarmed and armed perp, hand-to-hand combat, how to pin someone bigger than yourself down and keep them down,

and of course, her Specialty, lockpicking. You took to it like a fish to water, she said-- it was by far what you were best at among the things she tried to teach you at the point, and she could barely contain her glee at that fact.

However... it was a completely different story for the other things she tried teaching you. The kinds of skills that you develop naturally over an extended period of time, over multiple missions. Something you can't just... learn.

You weren't skilled enough in aim to hold a gun like she tried to teach you to, and in the same vein-- you weren't skilled enough in handling the gun to use the tips and tricks she gave you for aiming.

It was like a never ending cycle, where you couldn't do one thing, and when she tried to target it form another angle-- that didn't work either, because you couldn't do the first thing.

It was extremely frustrating for the both of you, particularly Jill. She did great at not showing it, though. She was all smiles as she gave you a pat on your shoulder, and said you'd get it eventually.

Eventually was the keyterm-- but Jill refused to believe that'd it'd take any longer than two weeks tops to get you up to Alpha team status.

That, evidently, did not happen. She had to switch tactics, and came up with the idea of doing more joint missions with Bravo.

Jill is very... protective, and at first, you thought nothing of it. You saw it as normal for this line of work, for her to be watching your back-- always checking in on you after missions, trying to push you to be your best, so on and so forth.

But then, you started to notice just how... far she could go with it. Apparently, if she was in the office and you were out on a mission-- she wasn't able to get anything done, and all she could do was just wait for you.

Her captain-- the head honcho, someone you don't like interacting with all too much out of pure, unexplainable primal terror at his very presence, often referred to her as 'your dog', 'your guard dog', your 'lap dog', or something else along those lines.

You wanted to tell him to stop, that it was degrading to Jill and just plain rude-- but you were too scared to stand up to him. It was silly, how a S.T.A.R.S member-- even if you were apart of the secondary team-- could go on missions and be just fine, but tremble at the idea of asking your boss to 'please stop calling your employee, my co-worker and friend, a dog'.

However, when he'd say it in front of Jill, she never seemed too bothered by the title.

If anything, she looked proud to be labeled as your guard dog-- one time, you asked her about it. Asked if it bothered her, and told her that if need be, you could probably sic the regular RPD police captain on Wesker if she was too afraid to speak up against it (God knows you were).

That conversation... didn't go how you were expecting it to. Actually it didn't go anywhere, not by your measures at least.

Jill laughed, said "Oh, that's just how he is!" and then completely switched topics, asking you if you'd watched Blade yet-- and if you wanted to tag along to the theaters with her to see it.

You didn't have the heart to steer the conversation back, so you just let her dodge it. But hey-- at least you got to see a movie out of it? Granted, she was probably going to ask you anyways, but still. It takes away a bit of the guilt you have for not pushing the issue, weirdly enough.

At some point, whether or not you get on the Alpha team doesn't matter anymore-- because somehow, for a completely archaic reason that nobody (including yourself) but the two main people involved could figure out, Wesker begins planning and executing more joint missions between the two teams.

It'd be a good thing, if you could just believe that this was entirely the A team captain's doing-- of course with the involvement of your captain as well, but he was much less involved from what you could tell.

But the thing is-- you just couldn't bring yourself to believe it. The proud, almost victorious looks Jill kept giving you on the first few joint missions-- like the cat who caught the canary, or a gladiator who just won the match of the century-- made you question if the decision had laid solely on Wesker.

During this joint missions, Jill was hard-pressed to let you out of her sight. Even when your captain suggested the teams go opposite ways; you always stuck behind. Maybe because you didn't want to worry Jill,

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because of the way her grip tightened on your hand, arm, shoulder-- wherever she was holding you-- tight enough to bruise (if you didn't have your tactical gear on, of course).

Whatever the reason was, whether it be one of the two, or an unseen third option, you never split off with you team on these joint missions.

Neither captains said anything of it-- sure, Marini would give either Wesker or Jill a strange, almost suspicious, look-- but he never commented on it. At least, he never commented on it with you.

It was strange, yes, but you chocked it up to her history in the military-- for lack of a better reason. Maybe she saw a rookie in need of help, and took it upon herself to help you any way she could; that much was evidenced by her rigorous training sessions she'd been subjecting you to until the joint missions started up.

But still, it didn't feel like... that. It didn't feel like she was simply a co-worker-- you saw her as a friend, and you're sure she felt the same about you; she never seemed to have viewed you as her subordinate, like you'd viewed her as your superior for a(n albeit short) amount of time.

You and Jill hung out all the time outside of work, completely unrelated to S.T.A.R.S at all-- movies, skating rinks, and carnivals; anything and everything interesting happening in and around Raccoon City, Jill was always sure to drag you along.

Then, it escalated to hanging out at each others apartments/homes. More often than not, it'd be her place-- it was nicer than yours, an actual home and not just a residence. There were pictures and posters hung up all over the place, her own personal touch having reached every corner of the apartment.

Sometimes, you'd forget how you met her-- that she was really just a co-worker, at the end of the day. You were fresh out of training, slapped right in the workforce, where you'd met Jill. You don't know how these things work, in all honesty, you never quite understood how to make friends past the kindergarten way of going up to someone, hand extended, and straight-up asking "Wanna be friends?"

Eventually, you progressed to practically living with Jill. It was unofficial-- but with how many sleepovers you two had, you were barely at your own place anymore. Hell, you had your own toothbrush at her place!

She didn't comment on it much-- the one time she did, you two were camped out in her living room; the couch pushed back, chairs pulled from her kitchen table and various sheets and blankets draped over them; pillows and cushions below, along with more blankets.

A pillow fort, to say the least. Right in front of her big CRT TV-- you were watching X-Files, something Jill had expressed interest in started, but only wanted to if you started with her.

You were dropped right at the start of Season five-- there was a marathon going, preparing for the new season that was preparing to release 'soon' (it never said a specific date, just an ominous 'soon' was all the network could afford at this point), but you two picked up on the little bits and pieces pretty quick, piecing it together with things from previous seasons that'd you'd hear here and there from others.

both of your were laying on your stomachs, propped up by pillows so you could 'sit up' comfortably, your arms braced against the floor, while Jill was more or less laying down, her chest resting on her folded arms as she watched the TV diligently.

When it cut to commercial, she turned to you, and out of the blue, just...

"When I was a kid, I always wanted a sibling, y'know?" You turned to face her, and hummed in acknowledgement, "Oh?" You said, prompting her continue the thought.

She turned back to the TV, mindlessly staring at the Mr Clean ad playing at the time-- but it was obvious her mind was elsewhere, she probably didn't even register when the ads switched, or what it had switched to.

"Yeah," She started off with, as the ad transitioned to Taco Bell "A little one, specifically. One I could share clothes with, give advice to," She turned to you again, a sly little smile on her face as her arm reached out and lightly-- playfully, barely any force behind it-- pushed you.

"Sleepovers in the living room-- all that jazz. The stuff they showed on TV and I read about in Babysitters Club." You felt a smile break out over your own face-- a warmth blooming in your chest.

Maybe this wasn't normal for co-workers-- to view each other as family, just like you two did; but you didn't care. Whether or not it was a normal thing remained unseen by you, but even if it wasn't...

You wouldn't trade it for the world.

...Even if Jill got a little too protective at times-- acting more like those dads in films, that'd come to greet their daughters prom date with a shotgun in hand and a violent threat on their tongue than the sister figure you viewed her as.

On one of your more low stakes joint-missions, one where you all had to track down a group of lost frat boys from the local university (who'd gotten turned around in the local forest while high, and cried about zombified dogs hanging around when you'd found them), one of the aforementioned frat boys had the grand idea of hitting on you.

His bad pick-up line was cut short as a gun shot whizzed by you two-- just narrowly missing his head, and loading itself into a tree about 30 feet back.

Understandably, he started freaking out-- he pointed to Jill, and yelled about how she tried to kill him. Wesker shot her a glare-- you think he did, couldn't really tell with the sunglasses, but the way he tilted his head gave you that vibe-- and Jill just shrugged her shoulders.

"I thought I saw a wolf." Was all she gave for an answer-- flimsy at best, an obvious lie at worst. Wesker let it go, though-- to your knowledge. Sure, he told her "This'll have to go in the report.", but when you read over the report later-- there was no mention of the shot Jill took at a 'wolf' during that mission.

After the mission was over and you'd got the group back to where they were meant to be, she threw her arm over your shoulder-- pulling you close and saying "That's why I don't like dealing with these college-types all too often, they always do this. Don't let 'em walk all over you though, 'kay? You deserve better than that." before she pushed off, leaving you with that... cryptic piece of advice.

It was a good piece of advice-- don't get me wrong! Jill was just... like that sometimes, giving you cryptic, almost archaic in nature, pieces of advice before bouncing off to somewhere else-- smiling like nothing was amiss.

maybe to her, it wasn't. But to you, these behaviors of hers weren't getting rather concerning. Maybe because they were becoming more frequent, or maybe because they were getting more intense. A mix of the both, honestly.

Still, you didn't confront her about it.

You kept having sleepovers with her-- to the point where you like, actually lived with her. You don't even remember what color your bedroom walls in your apartment were-- or even what the kitchen looked like.

Eventually, she asked you to move in with her. Saying it'd be easier, since you were basically wasting your money-- paying rent for a place you hardly ever visit anymore. Not many of your things remain, most were packed up and placed in Jill's guest/storage (or, what was once her guest/storage room, but you'd now taken it over) room. You could probably get all the stuff left in one trip-- except maybe the furniture, but even then, the furniture wasn't too much of a loss.

You'd be surprised what college students will put out on the curb at the end of the school year-- or, to be more specific, the private university students. Still, you were a little proud that nearly 95% of your furnishings had come from that method-- walking along the alleyway of streets with a lot of rental places for the local university's students.

It was a logical step and you knew it, officially moving in with Jill, that is. But the way she worded it was... odd.

"C'mon, what am I good for if I don't help out family?" She could've meant that figuratively-- if anyone else said it, then you would've defaulted to that;

But knowing Jill, that just wasn't the case. Hell-- you got called Rookie Valentine by one of the regular cops just a couple weeks ago, and when you went to correct them-- they just laughed and brushed you off,

"Fightin' with ya sister, huh? I used to do that-- with my dad, 'a course. Deny my last name 'n all that." Then, the cop gave you a pat on your shoulder and walked by you "Whatever you're upset about, it'll blow right over; trust me, bonds like you's two have don't go away like that."

Maybe it was stupid-- how quickly you folded, simply nodding your head; within a second or two, Jill had practically flown into you, her arms outstretched. She pulled you into a tight embrace. You reciprocated it-- no reason not to, after all.

But... hey, at least you don't have to deal with your landlord anymore, yeah?

Chris Redfield (and claire)

In some ways, Chris and Jill act pretty similarly when it comes to you. In others, they were near opposites.

For example, If you happened to be on Bravo Squad, he would much rather have you stay there indefinitely. He knows how mentally and physically tiring the Alpha team's work can be compared to Bravo's, which were pretty much just backup, in simplest terms.

He'd want to distance you as far away from Alpha teams work as he could manage. There's not point in putting you through that-- his way of protecting you is shielding you from it all by keeping you uninvolved, where Jill would much rather prefer to have you involved, by keeping you right next to her at all times.

You two hit it off the moment you stepped into that office- of course you did, who didn't get along with Chris? He was a literal ray of sunshine, and every morning, you couldn't help but look forward to that beaming smile he'd always give you once he spotted you.

It was normal-- run of the mill. You two were just friendly in a way co-workers were friendly; you saw yourself as no different then everyone else, when it came to how Chris treated you.

But it was small things-- at first, but they began to pile up, and up, and up-- until you couldn't help but notice them. It's not like you're painfully oblivious to everything,

...Just this, you reason with yourself. Listen, it's not your fault you didn't realize you were a special case to Chris! You thought it was normal, how he'd always drop by your desk when you both had morning shift, and slide a muffin, danish, a doughnut-- whatever he'd gotten that day, over to you.

He'd always check up on you, make sure you were eating properly-- he didn't try to cover it up either, didn't try to pull the tried-and-true "You need the proper nutrients to do your job well!", he just straight up admitted that he wants you to be healthy. No ulterior motives-- just... wants you to take care of yourself, because that's what you're supposed to do, for your own good.

He's a very caring person-- you assumed that he had this same level of caring for everyone in the office.

One time, when Claire swung by the office during her winter break-- she immediately beelined it to your desk. It was a little intimidating, because for a split second, you didn't know who she was; to be honest, you were a little afraid she was here to yell at you for messing up on a mission somewhere along the line; either as a civilian or a higher up, even though she didn't seem too far in age from yourself.

But as soon as it clicked-- right before she got up to your desk, that she just had to have been Claire Redfield, Chris' younger sister, you relaxed just a bit. She was probably just introducing herself to the newest addition; after all, most everyone else seemed to know her personally, or have at least met her once or twice before.

She was pretty nice, actually-- you two had a good conversation, and you're pretty sure you left a good first impression on her. But meeting her-- how she greeted you for the first time, was what tipped you off to the fact that no, Chris does not go out of his way to make sure all his co-workers are eating well, or keeping up with a solid sleep schedule like he does to you.

"Hey, you're the new addition to the family, right?" is what she said, word for word. At first, you thought nothing of it; thinking that she was referring to S.T.A.R.S as a family-- Jill did that pretty often, and you'd caught Chris doing the same a few times before.

You nodded, and you two got to talking. She was nice to talk to-- lively and animated, and you found yourself falling into a comfortable sort of routine. It was as if you'd known each other your whole lives-- she knew a lot about you, but just stuff that you'd told Chris, or he'd picked up on in passing.

"Does he talk about me a lot?" You remember asking, anxiety tinging your tone. Claire clocked it immediately, and leaned over slightly, from where she was sitting atop your desk; and gave you a pat on your shoulder, as you sat in your office chair.

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's all good things, and you sure as hell live up to how much he hypes you up during our calls." Yeah, you remember Chris saying he called his sister as often as he could. You were always impressed by how family oriented Chris could be. It was sweet, how often he'd talk about his sister.

A little bit of weight eased off your chest, as you let out a breathy little laugh "Hah-- that's good." You felt a little silly for being worried about it. Of course Chris told Claire about you, he's proudly boasted before that he tells her everything-- you were sure he treated the others no differently.

Even if you weren't on the same team as him. Even if, more often than not, he had to go out of his way to interact with you. You're sure Claire heard a lot more about the newest Alpha recruit-- you'd never spoken in depth with them, just passing "Hello"'s and "Good morning"'s as you pass each other on the way to your respective sections of the S.T.A.R.S office.

When there was opening in the conversation, you casually asked "Do you know anything about the new Alpha team recruit? I think their birthday is soon, and I want to get them a card." You were trying to take a page out of Chris' book-- being nice to everyone, going out of your way. It was a small operation in the grand scheme of things, S.T.A.R.S. It was best to try and make everyone feel at home.

Claire paused, her brows furrowed "...There's a new Alpha recruit?"

Why did that give you such a bad vibe? Why did it feel like an ill omen, you'd asked yourself at the time-- you quickly responded, unease curling in your gut for a reason you couldn't quite place at the time.

"Uh-- yeah, his name is... Mark, I think. He joined about a month ago, from what I know. Tall guy, ginger hair, seems to be in his mid to late 20s." Even as you described the man-- a very distinctive person, you think; there was no flash of recognition in Claire's eyes.

Claire seemed to think it over, before shaking her head slowly "No-- I don't think Chris has ever mentioned a Mark."

"Huh..." You said under your breath-- never mentioned him? They work together, on the same team-- you haven't been here much longer than Mark has. It set off alarm bells in your head, that he told Claire so much about you, and yet... she didn't even know Mark was with you guys in the first place.

There was a beat of tense silence between you two, then another-- until Claire suddenly said "How do you feel about roller skating?", obviously trying to divert your attention from the matter at hand.

You let her-- and you two fell into a conversation about roller skating, that eventually progress to ice skating, skateboarding, surfing-- those kind of activities/sports.

It had to have been at least an hour and a half before Claire got pulled away-- Marini approached you two, and shooed Claire off, like, literally. Made the motion with his hands and everything, as he told her "Redfield, you're distracting my team member. Go bug your brother."

Claire huffed, rolling her eyes as she pushed off your desk "Yeah, yeah. I'm going." It surprised you-- how casual she was with Marini, and disrespectful. But, she doesn't work under him, so you guess she has nothing to fear with upsetting him, since he isn't her brother's superior either.

...You just hope she's a little more delicate with Wesker.

Before leaving, she gave a quick little side hug, and told you "Catch you later, okay? It was nice meeting you.", you nodded and smiled, returning the hug best you could "Same goes for you. It was nice talking to you."

Claire laughed as she pulled away, giving you a light, playful punch in your shoulder "Hey, no need to be so formal. We're family now, I won't gut you for talking like an actual person.", Marini cleared his throat, and Claire rolled her eyes again-- leaving without another word to either of you.

She did, however, give you a little smile a wave, before she headed over to the A team's part of the office.

'we're family now', she said. Did that mean anything, or were you just overthinking it? She was just being friendly, you told yourself-- the Redfield's did this with everyone, you assumed.

After that, you and Chris started to go from work friends-- co-workers who were friendly with eachother, to actual friends. The first time you two hung out outside of work, was in a quaint little 24/7 diner near the RPD station.

The two of you had gotten off at the same time, 10 PM-- and Chris had dragged you along with him, saying that he wanted to get to know you more, without Marini or Wesker showing up at any given moment and telling their respective members to get the hell back to work, or for the member of the other team (often Marini to Chris) to leave the other alone, so they could do their work.

Chris always took it with a laugh and a smile-- but... well, it was stupid, you think. That look in his eyes couldn't have meant anything-- you'd never seen him look like that, but it was scarily close... hatred? No, irritation, it had to be. You don't think Chris is capable of hatred directed towards anyone short of a war criminal, in all honesty.

But at any rate, it's still an odd idea-- Chris being irritated at someone who isn't in the wrong. Objectively, Marini was doing nothing wrong; he was your boss, and he wanted you working while on shift.

But the way Chris would look at him suggested otherwise, like Marini had just kicked his dog or burned a belonging of his.

It was weird.

You forced yourself to-- well, not get used to it per se, the weirdness of it never went away, but you tried not to dwell on it too much. Tried to ignore it best you could, and while it was difficult, more often than not you could manage just fine.

Anyway-- it went well, hanging out with him at the diner. It was fun, and light-hearted; no imminent threat of the fun being broken up by a mission for work (while the chances weren't necessarily zero, they were very low while you two were off the clock-- unless it was like, a world ending sort of deal. if that was the case, then you'd have more problems at hand then getting called into work abruptly...), just you, Chris, and the local family diner that was done-up to look like a time capsule of idealized 1950s Americana.

He dropped you off back home-- insisting that you don't walk home so late. After that-- after he learned that you walked home after every shift, come rain or shine, and despite the time of day (or night), you always walked.

When Chris realized this-- every time you got off shift together, whenever he was available; he'd drive you home. You thought it was sweet, but... confusing to say the least.

Surely, he'd do the same for anyone else, right?

As the months passed and your friendship progressed-- where you hung out almost every weekend, completely unrelated to work in any capacity, it hit you like a ton of bricks that Chris wasn't just like that. Not to the level he was with you-- yes, he was kind and accommodating to everyone, but wasn't going above and beyond for anyone but you.

But... why? What was so special about you? How come he didn't do this for other new recruit-- that joined not so long after you, who was on his team. He definitely naturally sees/runs into the guy more then he sees you in passing.

It just didn't make sense, and no matter how much you thought and thought about it-- it never managed to get any better. You never understood it any further, and you all but gave up on trying to understand the reason behind it.

You could ask Chris about it, but then that'd be awkward, and you don't want to deal with that-- you don't want to seem like you're coming at him or anything. It might just be because you're younger, so assumed that sort of mentor role because he was in that position one?

By now, you've come to terms with that. That it doesn't make sense, and you'll probably never be able to make sense of it on your own-- and you were too scared of upsetting Chris to actually ask the guy.

So you kind of just... stuck in a loop. But that's fine-- because you had things to distract yourself with! Like your hobbies, and work, and hanging out with your friends;

...Maybe not the last one, thought. For some reason, all of your other friends have all but dropped off the face of the earth. You tried reaching out to one--

Only to find out that they were... in jail. It was a minor offense, but still. That wasn't like them at all-- it'd been their sister to pick up the call, and you'd been subjected to a very, very heated telling off by her.

She seemed to think it was your fault, that you sicced 'your brother' on them for some perceived slight-- one that you couldn't think of, and neither could she.

You tried calming her down, but it only ended with the call abruptly ending-- her screaming at you to "Leave my family alone! Yours has done enough damage to ours ot last a lifetime!"

Then it was over.

Whether or not you have brothers-- you know that couldn't be right. If you did have brothers, then you know they wouldn't-- or just didn't have the means to-- lock your friend up in jail for... whatever it was, you think it was some traffic related violation.

Something that you know can be easily staged-- Marini had told you so before, as you sorted through some old cases. These sorts of violations were usually a dead giveaway that the recipient had pissed off a cop, who wasn't above faking an offense to get back at them.

You could only think of one person who'd possibly fit that weird description-- Chris was sort of a brother to you, in loose terms. He acted brotherly with you, is what you'd like to call it.

Really, you want to confront him about it, but you don't have enough evidence.

He wouldn't do something like that, yeah? He's a good guy, he wouldn't fuck up someone's life by wielding his position of power over them for no reason at all. It had to be unrelated-- just a weird set of coincidence. You don't think you've ever told Chris about that friend, so how would he even know about them?

You didn't bother reaching out to your other friends-- hoping they'd reach out to you. It was stupid, your fear of getting an earful from a pissed off family member again-- or getting blamed for whatever happened.

So you just... well-- you wouldn't call yourself a coward, but Chris couldn't be it. He just wouldn't have done something like that, especially without clear reason-- it couldn't have been him.

Again. Nothing made sense-- it hurt, knowing you'd probably lost a treasured friendship for something you don't know anything about,

But at least Chris is there to ease your ills, right? At least he answered your phone call at 10 PM, and stayed with you for an hour after that, comforting you as you cried and told him that you didn't know what was going on.

he was so genuine as he comforted you-- even over the phone, which you knew had to be harder to do than comfort someone face to face-- that you ended up letting it go.

You ruled out the idea that Chris had been behind it all-- maybe because you really didn't think it'd ever been a viable explanation,

Or maybe, deep down, you know Chris could-- if pushed far enough-- probably be capable of something like that. Despite how you interact with each other, how you talk like you've known each other your whole lives, you'd known each other for under a year by that point.

But you selfishly hoped-- and presented this hope as fact to yourself-- that he didn't do it, because he really was one of your closest friends; especially since everyone else drifted away from you.

You couldn't lose him too-- or Claire, because you know that if a falling out happens with one, it's sure to follow with the other. They're like that, the Redfield siblings, as you've come to learn.

And you'd rather not be caught on the receiving end of Claire's world-ending death glare, thank you very much. You don't think you could handle it-- emotionally wise, that is.

Rebecca Chambers

Surprisingly, You'd probably be better suited on Alpha team when it comes to Rebecca.

Still, you probably graduated in the same class as her; however, you weren't a child prodigy like she was. You being older then her gave you leg up in the recruitment process, which landed you in the Alpha team and her in the Bravo team.

You may not have interacted with each other a whole lot during school-- no real reason, you two just never crossed paths all that often.

But after joining S.T.A.R.S at the same time, you two made a sort unofficial pact to stay together; despite being on two different teams, you'd try to look out for each other. For one, you were a little worried about hazing.

Was it a silly thing to be afraid of in workforce? Well, yeah-- but there was still a possibility. If any field of work would incite some sort of frat-esque hazing ritual, it'd be law enforcement!

So you exchanged landline numbers, and kept tabs on each other as much as you could. You took initiative a whole lot, and kept watch on both your and Rebecca's co-workers.

In the end, nothing happened. Obviously-- since there was such a miniscule chance it would, but the 2-3 week period of this, of constantly checking in each other (usually you to Rebecca, since Bravo members tended to be a little less mature on the basis of the less real-world experience and such; and she was young, an easy target in the eyes of people who didn't quite know her), built up a pretty solid rapport with the younger rookie. One that couldn't just easily fall to the wayside.

Even though you're on different teams, you still encounter each other pretty often. At first, it was a practical thing-- you checking up on Rebecca,

Until Rebecca started seeking you out for more normal things. Like to tell you about her latest mission, or a funny thing her captain did-- to exchange stories of your respective team members being absolute goofballs, so on and so forth.

it was nice, these little chats you'd have. They were never very few and far between, not even at the start-- Some were accidental, like bumping into each other in the break room, clocking out at the same time and having a little chat before heading out, so on and so forth.

But as the weeks went on, turning to months of working under the same roof-- If there was ever a moment where she could come find you, you better bet your ass she was there.

From the moment you stepped in the building in the morning, to whenever you came back from a mission; when you were getting ready to leave, Rebecca would do whatever she could to be near you. Sometimes they were conversations-- where you put your own thoughts and whatever into the topic, but sometimes it was just Rebecca explaining something she was interested in, or telling you every single tiny, microscopic detail of a story she'd already told you before.

You never stopped her-- it never hurt anything. Due to her being the youngest, people let her get away with it. As long as both your reports were turned in on time and done well, then what does it matter that you talk to each other while you were at it?

At some point, Rebecca would definitely just pull a chair up and do her work at your desk. Her own desk at the section with the other Bravo members went unused for long stretches of time-- you were fine with it.

Again, it was nice having someone to hang out with. She didn't talk to whole time, most of the time, you two lapsed into a comfortable silence as you did your own reports/paperwork at your own leisure. Sometimes, one of you would pop up with a little comment, spurring a response from the other-- but it never went much further then that, in those moments.

...That's when Marini cut in though. Saying it'd be better for Rebecca to head back to her own space-- to stop bothering you. You tried your damn best to reiterate that "No, she's fine. I swear, I work even better when she's here--" But a quick, withering glance from Marini made you reluctantly shut your mouth.

Rebecca looked heartbroken-- you met her eyes, and tried to convey your apology that way. She didn't look angry or upset with you, just sad about the circumstances. Understanding, that you'd done all you could in the moment, as she grabbed her papers and went to push the chair-- that'd you'd known as her chair for a few weeks by then-- into where it was actually meant to be, in an unused desk right by yours.

Marini was watching the whole time, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. You saw how Rebecca's hand trembled ever-so-slightly under her captains scrutinizing gaze, and you reached out to pat her hand comfortingly; stopping her in her tracks. "Hey, it's okay. I'll get the chair, you go to your desk, okay?"

She looked up, and you gave her a reassuring little smile. She looked kind of like a kicked puppy-- it tugged on your heart, made you wish you really could do more.

She nodded, and softly said "okay.", and you'd expected her to pull back, to straighten up and walk off. Soon enough, you realized that, for whatever reason, she wasn't moving as long as you kept contact with you.

You removed your hand-- she looked saddened by the loss, but took it in stride, as she turned and trailed after Marini as he (presumably) led her back to Bravo's section of the S.T.A.R.S office.

it's not like they were really separate from each other-- or even blocked off per se, not in a purposeful way. You were just stationed on the far side of Alpha's side, the little dividers interspersed here and there primarily blocked your view of most Bravo team desks.

However, Rebecca's was right on the edge between Alpha and Bravo's unofficial-official sides of the room, and you were able to still look over at her from time to time.

After that-- you considered going to Wesker about it, but you were certain he'd either do nothing, or throw thinly veiled insults your (and indirectly, Rebecca's) way. Something along the lines of "Do you think this is grade school? That I'm a teacher you can negotiate a seating chart with?"

No matter how much you cared for Rebecca, you couldn't bring yourself to face that possibility of the utter mortification that talking to Wesker would undoubtedly bring you.

Two weeks passed, before Wesker pulled you into his office. He told you to sit in one of the two chairs opposing his own.

You bit your tongue, stifling the burning question of "Am I in trouble?" and waited for him to start on his own.

Apparently, Rebecca's performance had been experiencing a sharp decline during you two's times apart. Instead of firing her, Wesker sought to find another route to it.

"Would you say you two are close? Chambers and you?" He asked, and you had to question that yourself-- do you? You certainly see Rebecca as a friend, but a work one. Separate from a 'full-fledged' one, since you only see each other during work.

Finally, after a few suffocating seconds-- sat across from Wesker, his elbow resting on his desk as he held his face in his hand. You could feel him staring intently, even if you were unable to actually see that that was the case.

"Yeah-- I'd say we are. Why?" And then, that's when he told you about her performance, and presenting you with an opportunity that you took readily;

"How about you take a sort of mentor role for her? It seems she's having trouble acclimating to the workforce, which I wouldn't quite blame her for. She may be a child prodigy academically, but ultimately, she lacks the experience someone of your age does."

Immediately, you nodded-- before pausing, and asking "Have you talked to Marini about this?", and Wesker shook his head "No, I thought it'd be best to discuss this with you before going to him. Knowing Marini, he'd probably be less then stoked by this. I wouldn't want to go through the trouble of readying him only for you to decline the offer."

"...Yeah, makes sense." Was all you said-- You stayed there for about 15 more minutes, before being excused.

As you opened his door, a question crossed your mind. On a whim, you turned and asked "How long will it take, do you think?" You feared you might've been too vague at first, but Wesker seemed to know exactly what you meant, answering with his own "It shouldn't take too long at all, perhaps a few days at the most. I'd like to have this system integrated as soon as possible, before Chambers' performance rate drops low enough to where I have to consider letting her go."

You nodded, internally praying to whatever could be out there that she could keep it up for a little longer- long enough for your captain to talk to hers, to get this sort of mentorship up and a running so she can get back on track.

True to his words, three days later, and you walked into the precinct with your desk having been moved around; the empty desk besides yours had been moved, your desk turned sideways and the unused desk pushed to meet with yours.

It was set up to have someone there, no longer empty, it had a lamp, a computer, and some organizers and office supplies on it. Obviously, Wesker had gone through with the mentorship-- and when Rebecca came in a few minutes after you, her bus having been a little slow than usual, she was absolutely ecstatic.

She was talking a mile-a-minute, saying she didn't actually think Wesker would go through with it. In the end, she gave you a celebratory little hug; and you didn't hesitate in returning the favor, wrapping your arms around her and giving her a light squeeze before releasing her,

She took a few moments longer to unwind her arms from your waist, but you didn't mind. You were sure she was happy to be sat next to you.

Wesker never called you in about Rebecca's declining report quality/performance again, and that led you to believe that the issue was completely resolved.

Marini would come over sometimes, pull Rebecca off for a mission or something that needed the entire Bravo team present to hear. Every time, you would see her off with a little encouraging gesture. At first, it was a simple smile or squeeze of her hand-- then, the occasional hug.

But now, she borderline refused to leave with anything less than a hug from you. It wasn't bothersome-- it was comforting, actually.

And all was well and fine for a while-- until Alpha started to be called away for more and more missions, leaving your desk unoccupied more often than not.

While it didn't seem to be taking a toll of Rebecca's work performance, she was looking a little worse for wear. She was always so worried-- you didn't understand it, but you tried your best to be accommodating. The missions you went on were hardly dangerous, sometimes you'd be pulled in to answer a larger scale call about nuisance-- it always got like this around this time of year, Chris had lightheartedly told you before.

Move-in day for the local university brought a lot of traffic offences, and RPD usually outsourced some of these to S.T.A.R.S; rush week brought about a lot of nuisance complaints, frat parties obviously needed to be broken up from time to time-- things that the RPD were meant to do, but their hands got so full that S.T.A.R.S ended up stepping in where need-be.

But what worried you was, as weeks passed by with this uptick in missions, Rebecca was starting to seem so tired. Like she wasn't sleeping properly, and she was stiff and jerky in her movements.

Like she was sore. like she overexerted herself, and you asked her about it. She gave you the same bright, cheery smile as always-- and just said she was training harder than usual.

You didn't have the heart to go any further with it, just telling her "...Okay. Just make sure to take care of yourself, and don't push it, okay?", and she'd eagerly nodded, promising you "I will! Don't worry about me."

That didn't help anything, because she seemed to get worse-- during her off day, you bounced on over to the Bravo team's side of the room, and asked one of her teammates "...Hey, have you noticed anything strange with Rebecca recently? Has she been doing okay on missions?"

And Forest, the one you'd approached-- didn't look too worried at all. "Huh? Oh, yeah! She's been doing great! better than usual, actually." You made a questioning little noise, thinking over what that could possibly entail.

"...Has she been doing a lot of overtime, too?" And Forest paused, thinking about it "Uh... Yeah, I think she has."

"And has she told you why she's doing this?" Forest shrugged, giving you a little smile, none the wiser to Rebecca's less than stellar state, no doubt. "I think she wants to get on your team-- I know she's been hitting up the shooting range more than usual. Probably aiming for a different position than medic, 'cause Alpha doesn't really have a need for it."

Okay that... explained a lot, but did nothing to ease your worries. You thanked him, before heading back to your own desk; you made up a plan to confront her on it the next day, but the right chance never presented itself.

The first time you two hung out outside of work, was after she collapsed right before heading off. Just... fell right into yourself arms-- exhaustion and overexertion having taken its toll on her. You hadn't been able to ask her about it, before she keeled over from it.

You bit your tongue, preventing yourself from mumbling a little "i told you to take care of yourself..." but decided against it. And you'd stood there for a little while, just holding her-- then, you shook her awake, gently.

"mm?" She questioned, her eyes fluttering, and you asked "Rebecca, how do you get home? Do you walk or take the bus?" You don't feel good about leaving her on the bus like this-- hell, you don't even know if they run this late, the clock hung on the wall shining proudly, proclaiming it to be 11:07 PM.

But if she walked, you literally wouldn't ever forgive yourself if you made her go through that in a state like this. She mumbled her answer-- Walk.

Goddamnit.

"...I'm gonna have to drive you home, you okay with that?" She huffed, and leaned further into you. "'Kay." It's not like you feel good about this either, per se, it was just the best option at the time.

So, you carefully set her in the passenger seat of your car, buckled her in, shut her door and headed to your own side. You managed to get an address out of her-- a better part of town, thank god, so that made you feel at least a little better.

Through the whole thing, you had to keep yourself from trying to poke and prod about it all. About her pushing herself to her limits-- seemingly to join your team. It made you feel bad, guilty; as if you were the cause behind it.

Realistically, you probably were.

When you got to the quaint little one-story rental Rebecca resided in, you were just as careful to get her out of the care as you had been to get her in.

You helped her along and up to the porch; she took out her keys, but just before inserting them, asked you to stay. That she'd feel more comfortable if you stayed. You got a closer look at her face, under the glow of her automatic porch light, and realized how she was a little... thinner.

"Yeah, but I'm gonna make you some food. That okay?" You tried to frame it as a command at first-- but went back on yourself mere moments later. This was her house after all-- if she didn't want you cooking, then you couldn't do much about it.

She gave you an almost... mischievous little smile before chirping back an "Okay. That's fine by me." Before inserting the key and letting you two in.

You ended up cooking her something simple-- it wasn't a problem of she didn't have the food, that she wasn't eating. She just either forgot to between all the training, or didn't have the energy to make anything. That's okay-- you suppose you understand it, even if it was to such an extreme that you worried deeply for the younger S.T.A.R.S member.

And then, she asked you to stay the night. You two set up camp in the living room, with you on the couch and Rebecca on the trundle-esque pullout below; and watched some late-night TV (namely Murder, She Wrote; which put you right to sleep no matter what). When you two woke up-- you'd been the first to rise.

You were stiff from sleeping in your work clothes; it was off day, thank god, but it wasn't Rebecca's. Despite any apprehension you might have about it, you got up and set yourself to getting a good breakfast ready for her. You let her sleep as long as possible, before nudging her awake, a plate of pancakes in one hand, and some maple syrup in your other; since she had the half-used bottle on her countertop, beside of ready-made pancake mix, your assumed she was pretty fond of the breakfast food.

her eyes lit up, and sprung up to hug you-- the plate almost slipped from your hand, but you managed to narrowly escape tragedy as you readjusted your grip, and hugged her back best you could, with your hands full and all.

You pushed the trundle bed back into the couch while she added syrup to her hearts content, then you two sat down.

Really, you wish you could've just let her eat in peace-- but you had to confront her about the cause behind your impromptu sleepover. You two had a long, productive talk about it; about how she should care for herself more.

It ended in a truce, where she wouldn't do so much overtime or train so much it exhausted her, if you two hung out outside of work hours. Because at the core of it, that's why she'd wanted to get on Alpha. So she could be with you, even on missions.

You thought it was sweet.

And in a way, it was-- but... maybe not as textbook sweet as one would assume. You two were nearly inseparable, joined at the hip less than a month later. You stayed over at each other's places a lot-- and you started to view her as more than a friend, far more like family than anything.

You had silly fights-- bickered over dumb stuff that didn't mean anything in the end, you play fought, you poked fun at each other; really, it was no fault of passerbys to think you two were a pair of siblings; that you were her older sibling as you helped her tie her ice skates before you two went out on the rink.

That wasn't the problem-- you didn't mind it. However, you did start to notice how people seemed to... swerve you two. How you became more and more isolated, little did you know, that was entirely on purpose.

Rebecca cared for you a lot-- cared for you like an older sibling. She just wanted to keep you safe-- can't get hurt if she's the only one you interact with, right?

#yandere resident evil x reader #yandere albert wesker #yandere jill valentine #yandere chris redfield #yandere rebecca chambers #yandere headcanons #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #albert wesker #jill valentine #chris redfield #rebecca chambers #platonic yandere resident evil #resident evil #resident evil x reader #yandere resident evil #my writing #requests open #reqs open

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fanaticsnail · 11 months ago

Note

Oh snail, i know you already have a long list of WIPs (i can't wait to read them) and your Inbox is probably already full with requests, so i understand if its not in the cards right now.

I was just wondering what the kid-pirates would do, or how they would react if ther precious doc-reader is the one that was injured badly or was very sick. Especialy how Killer would react after that romantic tention between them (i need more of that 😩). I don't have a particular song in mind, because the seires already has a vibe to it, hope thats okay.

I wish you a wonderful day/night/evening! 💕Sooo looking forward to your next work, whatever it may be 🐢

I love you for this prompt, @daydreamer-in-training. Thank you!

Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?

Hey Doc Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: You've taken care of your crew and nursed them back to health from their flus... but now it's your turn. The Kid-Pirates do their best to take care of the worlds worst patient, their doctor: you.

Themes: platonic!kid-pirates, eustass kid x gn!reader, swearing, illness, comforting, taking medication, kid is a bit of a dom, doc is a bit of a bra, you're the kid-pirate doctor: the crew calls you 'doc'.

Notes: I am currently struggling with the flu myself, and this was simply too cute to not write about. Thank you for your ask, it's been fun to write about!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @sinning-23 @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @nerium-lil

“Hey, Doc? Did we need any more petroleum jelly from the-...?” the fire breather called beside you, hating when you turned to face him, “...-Shit, Doc. You look like absolute balls today.”

Rolling your swollen, glassy and red eyes at him, you draw another tissue from your counter and sneeze into it. The silky tissue felt like sandpaper over your leaky nose, the skin splitting surrounding your nostrils and leaving small stains of red on the pale paper.

“Always so full of compliments and kindness, Heat,” you huff out, your voice sounding hoarse and cracking along with every word. Heat cringed, recoiling away from you with eyes narrowed in sympathy. You attempt to breathe through your blocked nose, no air passing through the dual nostrils.

Treating the crew for the past two weeks, and nursing them to health in recovering from the flu, had finally caught up with you. You felt both cold and hot at the same time, your skin both dry and sticky with sweat. Mind swelling and cracking behind the tense throbbing throughout your brain caused a dull ache ringing in your ears and fogging your mind.

“I-... I’m just saying, Doc,” he reiterated in defense of himself, “You don’t look too good. Maybe you ought to sit out from the in-land trip to restock. Stay home on the Victoria Punk?” Heat suggested with a soft smile and a subtle shrug.

“What?” you grunted out a cough, “And leave you lot to restock my clinic for me? Not fucking like-...” coughing into another tissue, your glassy eyes pricked at the corners and began to spill out and down your cheeks, “...-likely.”

Heat’s smile fled from his face, his lip downturning in sympathy. He shook his head and extended his hand out to you, gesturing you to follow him out through the door towards the deck. You attempt to sniff back another intake of air to reopen your nose to no avail. Following on, you trudge somberly towards the top deck where the crew were all waiting to step foot onto the pier.

Without drawing attention to yourself, your eyes squinted lazily to compensate for the pain the sun caused your mind. With each achy step, you attempted to bite back the ache your body was going through. Barely aware of your surroundings, you gesture in the medicinal remedy booths at town square for herbs, ointments and aromatic fragrances.

As you reached into your pocket to pull out your small folder of Berry, a large right forearm reached over your shoulder and paid the vendor before you could. Rolling your eyes, you turn to look at the scowling grimace of your captain, Eustass Kid, baring his rage down at you. Attempting to roll your eyes at him again, you clenched them tightly shut instead as the world became far too bright to process.

“Captain,” you acknowledge him with a clumsy nod, fighting the urge to not to fall over with the vertigo overcoming you. He growled at you immediately, gesturing to Wire beside him to gather the supplies and walk back to the ship.

“You’re a real fuckin’ idiot, aren’t ya, Doc?” he spat, scolding you with his heavy growl. You laughed at him, shaking your swirling head and beginning to walk beside him. Your overexertion and sleep deprivation caught up with you as you tripped over an uneven divot in the rocky path.

“I'm not into degradation, Cap,” you respond in a half-joking hum, your eyes feeling heavy and weighted, “Not my kink. Might be yours, though, considering the amount of times I yell at you to hold you accountable.” That comment earnt you another low growl from your captain, his face turning a few shades darker than his hair.

He turned to face you at his side, his lips curling as if to speak. As he opened his lips, he was lost for words as you fell into him, bracing yourself against him to steady your walk. He caught you in his right arm, bringing his face down towards you and brows knitting with concern. Turning towards Wire, he cocked his chin to the side to usher him on towards the ship.

With no further warning, Kid dipped at the knees and hoisted you up into his chest beneath your thighs. He curled his bicep and hooked your head beneath his chin and cradled you firmly into him. Under usual circumstances, you would’ve fought this tooth and nail.

You do not enjoy being manhandled by the crew, especially by your captain. While you enjoy the embrace once in a while with your more sensitive crewmates, particularly Bubblegum, the Captain has only ever been this close to you when he’s sparring with you.

“C’mon Doc, I'll get you seen to,” he grunted down at your position curled into his chest, “I’ve-... And the-...” his words trailed off, the fever raising your temperature higher and prompting you to seek out sleep against his pectoral.

Voices and words fade in and out of your ears, a slow drawl and murmurs of several of your crewmates swelling around your assumed resting spot for the day. The room wasn’t physically moving, even though your vertigo suggested it was.

“When was the last time Doc’s had a day off?” you recognised the feminine voice of Quincy in the room beside you. Several grunts and incessant babbling reverberated around the room, prompting you to flutter your eyelashes open and push through the pain.

“Doc!” you cringed as a body almost flew into your bed, sitting on the plush sheets beside you, “You’re awake! I’m so happy to see you’re up!” You wince, slowly waving Bubblegum away, swatting at his zig-zagged head.

“Off, off,” you shooed him, wincing as you shrugged your duvet off your thighs and swung your legs over the side of the bed. As you began to wobble to your feet, the booming voice of your captain called over the chatter of the room,

“Sit your ass down, would ya, Doc?” he growled, striding over in intentional steps and giving you a shove from his right hand in the middle of your chest, “The medics here said you need a week in bed to rest. Sit down.” You growled at him, doing your best to gather the strength to growl at him.

“If I’ve been prescribed ‘rest’,” you began, gesturing to the crewmates surrounding your current room, “Why the fuck are you all here?” Several sheepish mutters surround the room, a few members pinching the scruffs of their necks, a few more wringing their hands in front of their waists.

Your captain clapped his hand on your shoulder, pushing you to lay back down and wrangling you into your bedsheets. Refusing to go down without a fight this time, you wriggled in his grip and fought both the fever and the strong arm of your captain.

“For fucks sake, Doc!” Kid yelled at you, pushing and shoving you down into the very comfortable and unfamiliar bed in front of the crew. “Just lay down and rest, damn it! Go back to sleep.” You wriggled harder.

“No!” you yelled defiantly, kicking off the duvet and fighting each and every time your captain attempted to shove you into your bed. Kid looked around to the crew, angled his chin sharply to wordlessly order them to leave the room. As they left, Kid turned back towards you and crawled up onto the bed.

“You are more of a pain in the ass than that fucking bullet to the buttcheek,” he growled, climbing over you and baring down his weight onto your smaller frame. Straddling your thighs, he placed his knees on your open palms and successfully pinned you beneath him. He pressed his forearm over your chest and gave you a firm shove to force you to lay down. You had no choice but to thump your head back into the plush pillow behind your head.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you clench your jaw and growl behind your lips. The rumble in your throat hurt the raw swell in your jugular, but you pushed past it to air your frustrations at him regardless. The chuckle from your captain above you only served to propel your anger to rise higher.

“Yeah, yeah. Growl and groan all you want,” he scoffed at you, pinning your chest with his bicep while reaching his hand between you and gathering the blankets in his fist. Slowly raising it up, he continued his place straddling your thighs until he thought you would no longer fight him.

“Why are you doing this, Captain?” you snarl at him, finally opening your eyes to gaze up into his eyes. He smirked at you in response, pressing his palm to your forehead and clicking his tongue at the temperature.

“Because,” he leaned over to the bedside, taking two small spherical tablets into his hand, “We love you, Doc.” He leaned back over you, gesturing with his chin for you to part your lips. You take a moment to snarl at him before complying, parting your lips and allowing him to place the bitter tablets on your tongue.

He leaned back over to the bedside, finding a glass of water and bringing it down to your lips. Tilting the glass slowly as it brushed with your bottom lip, he carefully fed you a sip of water to take the pills with. Placing the glass back over on the table, he drew his attention to the small amount of water seeping from the corner of your lip.

“Now, be a good Doctor and get loved on, idiot,” he softly huffed, his voice low and husky as he leaned forward. He used the pad of his thumb to gently collect the spill of water from the corner of your lips. Your eyes never ceased its glare up at him. He grinned tauntingly down at you, arching his brow and ensuring you swallowed the tablets.

“Get off, Captain,” you growled at him, bucking your hips up in an attempt to remove him from your body. He cackled his rumbled laugh down at you in response, shaking his head.

“You gonna get up again if I do?” he asked, leaning down and caressing your cheek in a gentle stroke. His eyes held nothing but mischievous mockery, but his hand felt like it was gently coaxing you to comply with what he asked.

“No, I’ll behave,” you snarled at him. His laugh was genuine this time, low and gentle. Slowly backing off you, he slid off your body before adjusting the sheets and smoothing them over.

“Good,” he nodded, beginning to leave the room by the door off to the side of the room. Halting at the door, he fought with himself for a moment before looking at you over his shoulder and uttering, “I’ll-… I’ll get Kil to check on you in a few hours. Get some rest, okay?”

What he said next was something you weren’t expecting to come from his lips. In all the time you served with him, he only ever called you ‘Doc’, or ‘Doctor.’ You were your title, and you appreciated that about the crew. You were Doc, only ever Doc. But what he said changed all that.

After he uttered the word “okay,” it was immediately followed by your name. Waiting a few moments, you responded in a cadence just above a whisper.

“I’ll be right where you left me, Kid,” you replied with a soft smile back at him. He closed his eyes, offering you a reflection of your smile in return before it grew back into its usual mischievous face.

“Good,” he again offered you, scrunching his nose up at you and looking up through his red eyelashes at you, “Otherwise I would’ve gotten your doting daddy to come coddle his whiny baby.” Your eyes went wide, your jaw clenching and your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

Eustass Kid just laughed in response, exiting the room and giving you both the time and space you needed to recover. Your recovery was not only the flu, but of the second hand embarrassment that Killer must’ve relayed to Kid what he’d said to you in the consultation room. Either that, or you left the shell of your Den-Den accidentally activated from when you spoke with your captain earlier in the day.

Either way, you pouted as you did as you were told and huffed back into your bed and went to sleep: the paracetamol activating and stilling your swelling head and masking the undertones of pain in your body.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #eustass kid #kid pirates #op kid #kid x reader #op kid x reader #one piece x reader #gn!reader #one piece x platonic!reader #eustass kid x reader #subtle killer x reader #killer x reader #one piece kid x reader

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captain-pheonix · 5 months ago

Note

Hello. I will call you Phoenix because that sounds very cool and you are cool and I platonically like you and enjoy your works.

Anyways I have come to request an all mercs + Pauling if you’re comfortable and want to write that. (If not maybe just Medic +whoever else you want to write for.) with a reader who has Schizophrenia? I’ve been going through some moments with it and the TF2 mercs are my comfort characters and your blog just feels nice.

If you aren’t comfortable with this feel free to block me or just ignore this ask entirely! Thank you very much!

A/n: GAHHH ILY PLATONICALLY TOO 🫶 ty for sending in a request, I’m so glad you enjoy my works! I try my best! I made sure I did some more extensive reasearch about schizophrenia/the real experience with it before I wrote this, please let me know if I should make some edits! (And other ppl reading this, also don’t be afraid to send an ask about making edits!)

Mercs + Pauling w/ reader w/ Schizophrenia (headcannons)

(Platonic or romantic!)

Pauling:

- will have some guilt about how she works all the time and can’t be there for you

- might send some gifts and call you in between jobs/travel, asking how you’ve been, asking if now was a good time or if you needed a distraction

- as soon as she gets the chance to come see you, she takes it

- asks over and over if you’re okay, because it’s been keeping her anxious on her jobs

- she’ll comfort you with sweet words over the phone if you call her for help

- reminds you to take your meds

Scout:

- absolutely clueless

- buys into stereotypes

- “the voices” type shit

- this guy is gonna need a thorough explanation as to how you feel all the time

- probably asks you how you’re feeling all the time too

- might be a little too quick to do his sneak-attack hugs

- likes hugging you a lot, so that could offer some grounding if you’re having delusions/hallucinations

- words of affirmation 10/10

- expect a lot of words…

- speaking of a lot of words, need an auditory distraction? The scout-o-matic is here! (Only $69.99)

Soldier:

- clueless prick

- thinks you’re some spy or something

- it might take the entirety of the team to convince him otherwise and try to explain it to him with your help

- might also buy into the stereotypes

- if you say you hear or see something that man is going to run around screaming with his shovel trying to chase them off for you (believes they’re real, but only you have magic powers to see them or something)

Medic:

- #1 meds administer

- does not buy into stereotypes, since he may know something about it

- (fw researching you heavy)

- dude is taking notes as you’re straight up not having it

- jk he goes to comfort you if he can after a bit

- you WILL be staying in the infirmary with him (sorry I don’t make the rules)

- will look into techniques to help you

Demo:

- you already know he’s offering alcohol to take the edge off/distract

- you have tried many times to tell him that that will not work

- if you had alcohol with your meds things would not end well

- offers himself as a napping space for being really exhausted (I’d take him up on that)

- he might already be passed out when you go to ask if you two can nap

- might wanna just scootch in there

Heavy:

- will protect you from the bad things (or at least try)

- if someone hurt pookie that’s no good it will not do

- offers protective bear hugs if you need something/somewhere/someone to cuddle up to and be distracted/grounded

Pyro:

- if you’re describing what you see to them, or have in the past, they might try to draw them with good old fashioned crayons and printer paper

- also schizophrenic 😭

- huge empathy from them

- but uhm they might also just straight up not know they’re schizophrenic, so bro could just be like “same”

- alright enough Gen z talk from me (there can never be enough)

- even if just hanging out with them makes you feel more comfortable

Sniper:

- probably feels bad for you

- opts to hang out indoors if hallucinations/delusions are not fun outside

- comforts you when you think you see or hear something

Spy:

- if he’s attempting to be subtle you might expect some noise cancelling headphones and other helpful tools show up at your door

- if you need a break from certain rooms he’s definitely gonna offer his smoking room

- gets you pill organizers for your meds if that’s something you struggle with

- offers lots of gentle comfort

- let’s be honest, this guy was clueless before you started talking to him about it and what it was

- now he just wants to offer help

Engie:

- probably pities you a bit

- gives you that Texan hospitality but may take a bit to understand you better

- will 10/10 make you something if there’s something he can make to help and if it’s possible

- gonna try everything in his power to make your life easier

————————

Hopefully I did okay 😭 ty for sending in your request!!

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jude-duarte-wannabe · 5 months ago

Text

childhood sweetheart material

oh my god!!! it's finally here, i made sure to change the posting settings this time!! i know it's not a bakery request but i've been writing them and i have a bunch in my drafts, i've got my sister editing them for me and hopefully one will be out soon... but for now enjoy my lovely's <3

pairing; carlos sainz jr x childhood best friend viviana martinez [original character]

blurb; this is a list of cute things childhood friend turned husband carlos sainz jr and his childhood friend turned wife viviana martinez do in my smau series that i'm working on called since we were eighteen, this story features a original character but for your reading pleasure, i've used 'you' and 'y/n' in this little snippet <3

currently playing; everything has changed by taylor swift ft ed sheeran "cause all i know is we said, "hello" and your eyes look like comin' home, all i know is a simple name and everything has changed, all i know is you held the door, you'll be mine and i'll be yours, all i know since yesterday is everything has changed"

from day one, you were the one;

your families have been friends for the longest time and while carlos was born a few years before you, you've been friends since you could babble at eachother

carlos can in fact still remember meeting you for the very first time, how tiny you were and his mother still has the photo of three year old carlos kissing your forehead but her personal favorite was one of you two falling asleep on eachother in the backseat of a car when she was dropping you off after a play-date

and so the years kept passing;

as years go by, you and carlos slowly begin to drift apart pursuing different careers and life goals, you knew from a young a age that you loved carlos but didn't realize it was in the romantic way until far later in life

during your teenage years, your parents thought you two were dating and no matter how much your denied it, they never believed you but that was probably due to the platonic to you both kisses you would place on eachothers cheeks or foreheads

when you were nineteen and about to move away and not see carlos for the next four to five years, not that you knew that at the time, you'd begged him to be your first time, it was one of those cliche moments of not wanting to go to college a virgin but he turned you down, saying he didn't want to ruin what you had, what a joke that seemed like now

when you two were young, around the ages of fourteen and eleven, you joked about marrying eachother one day, you even made a contract about how if you were still single after you'd turned twenty two that you'd tie the knot with eachother but as you grew apart, that contract was long forgotten about

coming back to eachother;

you found eachother again at a family reunion, you'd arrived early and got talking with his mother, catching up about life when she brought out old photo albums and low and behold at the back of the album was a paper or contract that you'd long forgotten had existed

you'd been sipping a drink in the garden when you heard the familiar voice, you'd gotten to talking when the topic of relationships came up and you discovered the both of you were single

you joked about tying the knot but he joked back about taking him to dinner first, which you did for giggles but you just fell in love with talking to eachother and began to meet up more often which eventually led to confessed feelings that had been hidden for too long, this left the rest as history

telling your families;

you were both nervous to say the least, your parents had been friends since they themselves were children, little did either of you know both of your sisters had already started to notice the change between you, the little stares and stolen glances but they had noticed it too late.. about three years too late in fact

the two of you had been planning to tell them sooner but you didn't want to give them false hope in case you broke up but you began to like the privacy and how it was just the two of you and before you knew, the two of you were approaching your three year anniversary

it was actually at your anniversary dinner that carlos proposed, you had both just stepped off a twelve hour flight and decided that instead of going out you'd get pizza

carlos thought there would be no better time than when you both sat on the couch eating pizza in comfy clothes to propose, you however almost lost it, you knew your answer was yes but instead of saying the first words out of your mouth were "you let me do this sweatpants" [if you've seen this video, i love you]

it was a week later at the traditional joint family dinner when everyone found out, your younger sister basically screaming her head off when she saw the ring on your finger as you reached for your wine glass

"what is that!" she squealed to which you winced in return and carlos chuckled, your mother looked betrayed as she too just now noticed the ring adorning your finger "when did that happen, i didn't even know you were seeing someone" she asked flabbergasted.

"does this mean you and carlos aren't together" your youngest sister had asked, she was only ten but loved carlos so much, you and carlos shared a knowing look before he shrugged his shoulders and leaned over to kiss you... that set off a frenzy among your family members

when it comes to work;

you work as an actress in horror / thriller films but you absolutely hate being scared, your the biggest wuss carlos knows but his favorite thing about your job is that he has a video on his phone of when one of your cast-mates scared the shit out of you and you screamed like the scream queen that you are

you often come home from set covered in fake blood to which carlos can't help but panic every time thinking your injured before he catches his breath and then helps you wipe it all off but not without you covering him in fake blood first

carlos quite often comes to your photo-shoots and one time the photographer wasn't happy with how the photos were working out, said that their was no real chemistry between you and the male model you had been working with and so he called a break during which you hung out with carlos, sitting in his lap and just enjoying eachothers company when the photographer caught sight of you both and it was like a light bulb went off in his head, that was the birth of the photo you had forever pinned to your instagram account

carlos always insisted on watching your movies, no matter how often you told him he didn't need to you would still come home to find him curled up on the couch with pinon as he pointed and mumbled "there's our girl" in his rough tired voice

your not afraid to show your support to carlos at his races either, attending as a long lost but now returned childhood friend at first but then eventually as his girlfriend and then wife but nobody knew that

while lando was basically carlos's best friend, to you he was your paddock child and you never let him forget it either

one of carlos's favorite things about your job was getting to see you in the gorgeous red carpet dresses, you would always show him and if he happened to be off racing, you'd facetime him instead, he loved being able to zip them up and feel your warm skin as he did it, his favorite dress was this one:

you were honestly carlos's biggest fan and without both his and his fans knowledge, you'd started an account on instagram where you posted the most outrageous things about him like this: which is one of your more tame posts btw

whenever carlos wins a race, gets on the podium or just no matter what place he gets, your wrapping your arms around him as soon as you can and whispering in his ear "i'm so proud of you mi sol"

kisses + cuddles;

there's different kinds of cuddles when it comes to yours and carlos's relationship, these include;

straddled cuddles were your sitting in his lap and wrapped around him, there is nothing sexual about it, just the two of you enjoying eachothers company

hugs from behind no matter where you are, in the motor-home or even the supermarket, carlos just likes to be holding you

and your personal favorite is when he's so exhausted and turns into the little spoon

and finally there's just this;

and then there's all the different kinds of kisses you two share

there's shoulder kisses most of which occur when carlos is hugging you from behind but they also happen in the early morning when carlos is awake and your still asleep but he just feels the need to kiss you in some way

thigh kisses, he loves to kiss your thighs and not just in the sexual way which he does indeed enjoy giving you but it also happens when he's laying in your hold with his head half in your lap and half resting on your legs

then there's the tippy toe kisses, the height difference between you and carlos was adorable but you often have to either stand on your tip toes or wear heels in order just to kiss him

then there's the kisses that you place all over his face after race cause no matter what place he comes, your always so happy for him and just need him to know how much you love him

then there's the kisses you have to tug at his shirt in order to give to him

there's the one where your kissing in bed, not in a sexual way but the 'i've missed you' loving way that has you rolling around and giggling, never wanting the kisses to end

and finally there's the kisses that both of you moaning in-between, it's these ones that normally led to your sexual encounters with eachother

touches and intimate moments;

you two have a habit of one of you two laying in bed, watching the other change in the morning or after a shower, you once said you trusted no one like how you trusted carlos and that's why you let him watch you change

then there's the times when either of you come home either from work or a race, so you sit behind eachother and gently massage the others shoulders

if your ever in the way which carlos says that you never are, he'll hook his fingers into your belt loops and gently scoot you out the way

carlos is the kind of boyfriend where if your too tired to move at the end of the day or after an event, he'll sit and gently wash your makeup from your face while your falling asleep

during the races that happen in colder countries, your often caught on camera pulling carlos close to hug him in order to warm up

your also often caught on camera walking through the paddock together with carlos's hand tucked into the back pocket of your jeans if you happen to be wearing them

and then one of your favorite things about your relationship was taking baths with carlos after a long day, feeling his body pressing against your own just brought you a sense of comfort and peace

dates [of sorts];

one of your favorite dates or even just times that you spend together is having pancake wars; where you two always try to one up eachother with your pancake recipes

whenever you guys go out for dinner, carlos always makes sure to give you the first bite of his food just in case you want to switch meals like you sometimes did

you would also often bring him lunch and end half the time end up staying so that you could eat together

he'll also sit and read you poetry late at night from your favorite poetry books

whenever you guys stay home and have date night in, carlos will often hover over your shoulder and wait to taste test the meal your cooking

then there are the museum dates you guys go on, art museums in particular have always been a part of your love for italian and spanish culture, a fan once took a photo of you and carlos in a museum where he was holding you up so that you could take photos of some of your favorite works of art

and finally and personally carlos's favorite was whenever you two went out for gelato, carlos loved the stuff and you loved taking photos of him

the little things;

just a list of all the little things that you and carlos do slash remember about eachother

your carlos's lock screen and he's yours

he wears your hair ties on his wrist and carries period products in his travel bag just in case you need them in an emergency

he always messages you when your filming to make sure that you've been eating and drinking

the two of you know eachothers routines off by heart, like when he comes home from a morning run, you'll have the shower running and waiting for him

you have a love of classic literature and you often come home to find that he's deep cleaned your bookshelves

you take care of him when he's sick

he'd been whimpering and complaining of a sore throat all day, after a while you'd had enough so you decided to call his mother and ask what she once did when he was sick as a child, when you brought carlos a mug of manzanilla or homemade chamomile tea explaining you'd gotten the recipe from his mother, carlos knew right then and there that he was going to marry you

he once gifted you a stuffed bear and a bottle of his cologne for your birthday so that you had something to cuddle when he was gone and the cologne was for when you missed his smell.. he had to comfort you when you started crying

he loves knowing that you wear his shirts to bed, reminds him that your his

and finally with all the button ups that carlos wears, you often find yourself sewing buttons back onto them, carlos once found you on the couch furiously sewing buttons back onto around ten or so shirts that you'd discovered while doing the washing

no one touches the hair except for you;

when your bored, you often end up begging carlos to let you braid his hair... it's always a yes because ever since childhood, he could never say no to you

you also love to laugh at how messy and fluffed up his hair gets in the morning, the first time you'd seen it you burst out laughing which caused him to blush

down and dirty;

while not going to into detail, here's a list of some of the things you and carlos do in bed

carlos loves eating you out, as mentioned beforehand when discussing his love for giving you thigh kisses

another obvious one was the fact that carlos loved having his pulled during sex

then there's the guided grinding, where his hands gripped at your hips while grinding you down against him

carlos's favorite position to take you in is doggy and no, i personally think there's no explanation needed

carlos has a thing for choking too, you in fact introduced him to it

and finally while it not's something you explore very regularly, you also share a spitting kink

the wedding;

it's been described by friends and family as the most beautiful wedding they'd ever attended, there are photos in the wedding album of you and carlos shoving cake in eachothers faces and instead of a three course meal, you both served pizza at your wedding instead

nicknames;

your nicknames for carlos include; mi sol [my sun] mi vida [my life] papi and mi amor [my love]

carlos called you his wife all the time, including long before you two were married

his nicknames for you include; my wife, mi vida, mi amor and corazón [heart]

aesthetic playlist;

a list of songs that describe you, carlos and your relationship

young and beautiful by lana del ray

boyfriend by ariana grande ft social house

just friends by why don't we

we can't be friends [wait for your love] by ariana grande

never be the same by camila cabello

lay all your love on me by abba

senorita by shawn mendes ft camila cabello

older by isabel larosa

money money money by abba

too sweet by hozier

everything has changed by taylor swift ft ed sheeran [taylor's version]

teenager in love by madison beer

me gustas tu by manu chao

more songs like this can be found on their official playlist

and finally;

this is just how i picture you'd reveal your relationship to the public

movies.with.y/n

movies.with.y/n; my heart always knew it'd be you @ carlossainz55

#formula one #formula 1 #formula one fanfiction #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz jr x reader #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 fanfiction #f1 x you

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baldval · 1 year ago

Note

There isn't enough wholesome shipping content so can I ask for Alastor, Angel, Husk, the Vees, and Lucifer with an S/O who likes to cook and bake and it's their primary love language. Hust making sure they've eaten or have treats to snack on or even cooking with them.

BAKING W HAZBIN!₊˚⊹♡

characters: alastor, angel, husk, vox, velvette, valentino, lucifer

warnings: incredibly fluffy fluff fluff fluff

a/n: this can be mostly read as both platonic or romantic (except for the parts where i explicitly say that it's romantic) so enjoy x.

ALASTOR:

ᰔ lowkey probably has never even baked before.

ᰔ just never had any interest in it.

ᰔ he really likes eating baked goods tho.

ᰔ especially the sweet stuff.

ᰔ total sweet tooth.

ᰔ he helps out sometimes in the kitchen at home, but nothing crazy.

ᰔ if you like baking, and you invite him to come join, he is so down.

ᰔ he's not the best at it, and you'll need to guide him through a lot of the process.

ᰔ but he is so eager about it.

ᰔ will request that you bake specific things together depending on what he's craving.

ᰔ if he has a crush on you, he'll become more bold about his recipe requests.

ᰔ he'd also try to intitiate baking hangouts more often.

ᰔ the entire time he'll be sneaking glances at you with this cute slight blush on his face.

ᰔ he is no stranger to pretending to not know how to do something so you'll come over and help him too.

ᰔ if things get more serious, i can see him getting more into it.

ᰔ but it'll always be more your thing.

ᰔ your number one supporter though.

ᰔ brags about you and what you baked all the time.

ANGEL:

ᰔ another one to not really be seen baking unless someone invites him to do it.

ᰔ except unlike alastor, who can make do, he's terrible at it.

ᰔ he can kinda cook?

ᰔ to an extent.

ᰔ but his baking is on a whole other level.

ᰔ he does really enjoy it though.

ᰔ just… mostly aesthetically?

ᰔ the process of creating something from scratch, assembling the ingredients, kneading them together, and watching them become something beautiful.

ᰔ it's all very soothing to him.

ᰔ loves the smell too.

ᰔ regardless of if you're in a platonic or romantic relationship, he would never decline an invitation to come bake with you.

ᰔ though he would definitely stay on the sidelines, prefering to instead keep you company and hand you what you ask for.

ᰔ will send you recipes that remind him of you.

ᰔ if he has a crush on you, or if you are in a romantic relationship with him, you might notice him making every excuse on earth to spend more time with you in the kitchen.

ᰔ and he'll do everything he can to help out too!

ᰔ passing you tools, giving you praise, cleaning up after you, brushing the flour from your cheek.

ᰔ name it, he'll do it.

ᰔ he's so sweet about it too.

ᰔ will offer to feed you, and never fails to have the biggest grin on his face when you agree.

HUSK:

ᰔ local hotel bartender probably does not bake.

ᰔ probably pretty impartial to sweet things as well.

ᰔ he's just more of a savory guy.

ᰔ if you liked baking, and you ever decided to invite him along for the ride, he'd actually be down for it.

ᰔ it's not his thing, but it's yours.

ᰔ and if it'd make you happy to spend time with him like that, he sees no reason to say no.

ᰔ just make sure to guide him along and give him tasks.

ᰔ otherwise he's completely lost.

ᰔ if he has a crush on you, I could see him taking interest in your favourites.

ᰔ shyly requesting to cook those together next time.

ᰔ he'd try to appear nonchalant about the final product, but inside he's actually pretty happy he did it.

ᰔ especially after seeing your reaction.

ᰔ and if you guys do end up getting more serious, he may actually even end up getting pretty good at it.

ᰔ even going so far as to learn a few recipes by himself .

ᰔ he just wants to learn how to cook the things you like the most.

VOX:

ᰔ never thinks about baking honestly.

ᰔ he likes baked goods, but he just doesn’t see himself getting much out of making them.

ᰔ has all the ingredients available to him if he ever changes his mind tho.

ᰔ prefers things with dark chocolate or berries.

ᰔ and especially likes eating them with his daily cup(s) of coffee.

ᰔ if you like baking, you’ll have to invite him if you want him to join you.

ᰔ he’s not good nor bad at helping out, and will prefer if you take the lead for the majority of it.

ᰔ he will bring over the little extras or whatever you’re missing.

ᰔ and as you serve up, he’ll offer to make you a drink or something simple to go with it.

ᰔ if he has a crush on you, he’ll start including you in his little 'vees' snack grabs.

ᰔ and if you ever mention needing something but not being able to find it in town, he’ll secretly get velvette to special order it.

ᰔ if you end up getting into a relationship together, he’ll make sure you’re always stocked up, mostly on general ingredients, but especially any decor.

ᰔ likes buying you sprinkles or marshmallows and making you custom mixes.

VELVETTE:

ᰔ love, love, LOVES anything tangy, zesty, or citrusy.

ᰔ doesn’t bake though, and doesn’t know how to either.

ᰔ but not because she doesn’t want to.

ᰔ just because she never really has had to.

ᰔ she knows she can just hire someone to bake anything she's craving.

ᰔ only to later on realise that nothing anyone bakes will ever compare to what you make.

ᰔ if she ever has a craving, she’ll go straight to you.

ᰔ would also love to join you in your baking endeavours.

ᰔ if she has a crush on you, you’ll probably see an influx of messages from her describing the newest baked goods she’s tried or heard about.

ᰔ or she'll straight up just send you recipes.

ᰔ she’d also probably memorise your favourites, and find herself subconsciously looking for them whenever she goes shopping for herself.

ᰔ if you get into a relationship together, and especially when you move in together, i could see her indulging in baking as a pastime more.

VALENTINO:

ᰔ val knows he's not good at baking.

ᰔ but he loves doing it so much.

ᰔ and you can see how eager he is about it.

ᰔ so you're of course, super encouraging.

ᰔ truthfully, his baking isn’t that bad.

ᰔ i mean, he makes mistakes often.

ᰔ and things usually end up a bit burnt .

ᰔ but you can always eat around stuff.

ᰔ likes a big range of baked goods and flavours.

ᰔ but especially likes eating whatever you make for him.

ᰔ he might ask you for help to make sure nothing goes wrong.

ᰔ you’ll figure out quickly that’s he’s actually got a lot of good ideas.

ᰔ if he has a crush on you, he’ll start recommending you his favourite recipes.

ᰔ he’ll also ask you for help more often.

ᰔ if possible, he hopes that you’ll be able to make something together.

ᰔ and of course you do.

ᰔ if you do get into a relationship, he'll keep baking.

ᰔ he knows he's getting better and might get all cocky about it with everyone else.

ᰔ but behind close doors, he kisses you as he states that he owes it all to your help.

LUCIFER:

ᰔ actual closet baker.

ᰔ has a cute apron and matching utensils.

ᰔ wears it all the time.

ᰔ he's like- really good at baking bread.

ᰔ he'll make it all from scratch.

ᰔ he even has a few starters setup - uses it for his lunches.

ᰔ he gets so awkward whenever he tries to gift you one of his loaves.

ᰔ if you ever ask to bake with him, he'd accept, but only if you're at least good friends by this point.

ᰔ and he'd be a little hesitant about it too.

ᰔ if he has a crush on you, and you get past that initial shyness, will invite you to bake with him all the time.

ᰔ he's pretty dependable too!

ᰔ if there's anything you're unsure about, he'd be willing to teach you.

ᰔ he loves to put on your apron for you.

ᰔ if you're in a romantic relationship, will bake things for you all the time.

ᰔ totally the type to put pretty designs into what he bakes as well.

ᰔ he'll write "i love you" in a cake you're working on together while you're not looking.

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weasleyreidstyles · 1 year ago

Text

Serendipity

chapter three

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of dark magic and torture

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Over the next few weeks, you and Riddle met up in one of the abandoned Astronomy classrooms to practice your lessons, and the library where you really did attempt to tutor him in Ancient Runes, with little to no luck. He was hopeless at the subject.

You were not friends by any means. You were like oil and water, not willing to step over the line that separated friend from foe. He was infuriating as ever, and he seemed to find your incessant need for asking questions entirely incorrigible. But you'd both come to an understanding: this was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of your mutual friends. It needed to be done.

Your own friends were starting to question the hours you spent with him and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to lie when Harry spent every spare waking hour, that wasn't spent in school or on the Quidditch pitch, scanning the Marauder's Map.

In this particular session, Riddle had bombarded your thoughts with so much information and strain that you thought you'd pass out from exhaustion at any second.

"You're unfocused." he stated, unamused as he watched your hazed expression.

"You've been hounding me, for hours. I'm tired Riddle. Give me a break." you mumbled, voice low and resentful.

No. It's only been fifteen minutes. Due to your lack of focus, the burning sensation had come back at full force, causing you to stumble into the desk behind you.

He tutted, as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist to support you from injury, knowing Theo would probably maim him if something happened to you. When his hands retreated, his touch left a tingling sensation in its wake.

"Fine. 20 minutes. But the hour's not up yet. We'll carry on afterwards." he sounded as irritated as he looked, which had become a common occurrence in these sessions, not helped by your sarcastic commentary whenever you had the strength to cause an argument with him.

You closed your eyes for what felt like seconds, but it must've been for the duration of your 'break' because he woke you up with a forceful nudge.

"Breaks over. Now block me out like I showed you. We both know you're capable, prove to me that this wasn't a massive waste of time."

The burning sensation was back once again but it was duller than before, more manageable.

Ron saving the most goals he'd ever saved in one singular match.

Trying to teach Riddle a simple Rune pattern.

Hermione running out of the Gryffindor common room, tears streaming down her face.

Lavender Brown snogging your best friend.

You successfully locked your thoughts away, securing the lid of the 'box' with a mental thud, watching as the distinct orb of energy you'd recognised as Riddle's magical core, floated to a standstill in your mind.

"Good." he says, his face impassive. "Again."

He enters your mind with more vigour, but you're prepared this time, focusing your energy on keeping the ball of his magic confined to one area of your mind, to stop him unlocking all your thoughts.

What he didn't know was that you'd been reading up on Occlimency in any spare time you had to yourself, which was slim. You focused all your attention on that bright silver orb in your mind and pushed back with as much strength as you could muster. Startled, Riddle's shields fell momentarily.

You found yourself watching him from an outsider's perspective. You were in his home, the Riddle mannor, which gave off an air of stale coldness. Like death itself had taken up residence there. Then you heard it. The low hissing of a snake, Nagini – the snake that had attacked Arthur Weasley just over a year ago.

You watched as she glided past you, towards the shadow of a figure you were too afraid to face.

"My son." Voldemort says, in a creepy sort of drawl. "Have you done as I requested?"

You watched as Riddle, cold and indifferent as always, sucked in a breath before he stared his father in the face. Wordlessly he let the double doors behind him open, letting Malfoy and Berkshire stumble into the room, eyes flickering nervously.

"Yes father." he sounded resentful. And you caught the glance he shared with his two friends. He looked remorseful and almost...sad.

"And what of Master Nott? Master Zabini?" you saw Riddle's facade fall for only a moment, then watched as his shields slipped as he cradled the back of his head with a barely contained wince. Voldemort was in his head.

"Very interesting, my son." Voldemort hissed, eyes narrowed on the boy, who looked entirely too small under his father's watchful glare. "This must be remedied. Perhaps a little punishment will remind you of your place."

Then you watched as a father cast an unforgivable on his only living heir.

You were forced out of his mind with a push similar to what you had done to him, and when you cast your eyes onto his, you found twin obsidian irises...glaring at you.

"Satisfied?" he snarled, stalking towards you, backing you against the wall of the classroom. "Do you feel accomplished, sweetheart?"

The way his fists clashed with the wall on either side of your head prevented you from interpreting this new nickname. You stared up at him, shock and apprehension painting your features.

His eyes, once a cool, calming brown were like deep, black holes, narrowed on your expression. It scared you, rendered you speechless.

You should be scared, sweetheart. I didn't give you permission to do that. Gods, even the voice in your head was frightening. He was menacing.

He seemed to break out of his staring trance and shook his head slightly, as if this was an outer body experience for him. He looked surprised at being so close to you; you swore his eyes trailed from your own to your lips, but it must've been a nasty trick of the light, to dissuade you from this crazed persona he suddenly harboured.

He sighed as he pushed off the wall and without a word, he left. Once again leaving you standing alone in a dark, empty room.

~∞~

The first Hogsmeade trip of the year is always a fun affair. You remember the very first time you stepped out of the carriage onto the cobblestone streets of the town with Ron and Hermione during your third year. And just like that first time, it was magical every year.

This year seemed extra special. Snow was falling heavily from the bright white sky and the third years were having fun throwing snowballs at each other. You were bundled up in warm clothes: hat, scarf, gloves and giant coat, in hopes of not having your limbs freeze.

"I am begging you," you mumble to the Golden trio, who walked beside you, "can we please go to the Three Broomsticks? I'm in need of a Butterbeer. Or better yet, a hot chocolate. I'm so fucking cold."

Ron only laughed at you while you shivered; they all agreed before he yelped and began hastily running away when he realised his detrimental mistake.

The idiot had dumped a load of snow on your head.

"RONALD!" you scream, but it's drowned out by your own laughter, along with Harry and Hermione's, the latter of which hadn't laughed much recently. "I'll get you for that you wanker!"

Your friends had seldom had time to have a proper laugh this year. Each busy with their own endeavours: Ron with his new girlfriend Lavender; Harry with Slughorn, under Dumbledore's ample instruction and Hermione, who was putting all her effort into avoiding the former and trying to persuade Harry to get rid of his potions book (which had given him a fast track to top of the class). It was a wonder that you'd convinced them to come along.

When you entered the pub, sodden and cold from the barrage of snow that Ron had unleashed on you, the warmth of Madame Rosmerta's heating charms caressed you like a tight hug. Unwrapping your scarf from your shoulders and removing your coat, gloves and hat, you slumped into the cushioned seat of a nearby empty table, not taking into account the surrounding occupants.

Riddle was sat among his friends, watching you. He'd been doing that more since he walked out on you a week ago. He didn't turn up to your next session a few days afterwards, and when he didn't show earlier that day, you walked out of the room, incredibly annoyed. But you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was beginning to affect you.

As you sat side on at the table, with Ron facing his back to them, you saw how, despite his guard being held up extremely well, he huffed a laugh when Enzo said something entirely unfunny and rolled his eyes when Theo said something dramatic. You also saw how his jaw visibly clenched when Pansy was talking about the recent boyfriend who ended up being a complete dick. You wouldn't be surpised to find the boy beaten to a bloody pulp later.

You paid attention to your friends when Harry dropped a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of you.

"You truly are a life saver, oh Chosen One." you tease as he takes the seat opposite you.

"Piss off." he mumbles, but the smirk on his face tells you that he's not annoyed.

"I feel like we haven't spoke in ages." you say to your friends, who despite all being happy to see you, look like they'd rather be anywhere else. "How's being Captain treating you, Harold?"

As you let your friend mumble on about the stresses of looking after a group of rowdy quidditch players, you can't help the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

~∞~

An hour or so later, the four of you were wandering down an icy path back up towards the carriages that would take you to the castle, the only other people around were Katie Bell and her friend Leanne, who seemed to be immersed in an argument that you paid little attention to.

Hermione was arguing with Harry about his potions book again when the air around you went eerily still. Then you felt it, this strange feeling. It was magic, you'd recognise the feeling from anywhere, but this was different, it felt entirely too dark.

When the four of you rounded the corner of the lane, that feeling grew inexplicably. Leanne had tried to grab a brown paper package from Katie's grasp but the latter had tugged it back, causing whatever contents inside to fall to the ground. That eery feeling seemed to increase tenfold and you staggered to a holt as Katie Bell was hoisted into the air by an invisible force.

The sight was harrowing. She was six feet in the air by the time you'd raced to where Leanne was panicking. The package appeared to be an antique opal necklace, and it was omitting a deadly magical signature. It was without a doubt, cursed.

Harry went to touch it, but you rapidly grabbed his arm. "Don't. It's been cursed."

He looked at you incredulously but at that moment, poor Katie, who's hair was whipping wildly in her expressionless face, let out a gut renching, terrifying scream.

It seemed that Riddle and his friends rounded the corner at that moment; Theo and Pansy running to stand beside you, faces matching your own. Katie was still screaming when Riddle went to examine the necklace.

"It's been cursed." he mumbled to himself.

"We've already established that, Riddle." you mutter, glaring at him. He ignored you. "We can't deal with this ourselves. We need a teacher."

He seemed to agree with you as he sent Enzo and Zabini running back to the pub in search of someone, anyone. In the meantime, Katie seemed to be losing height and was getting lower to the ground, although she was still writhing uncontrollably. Mattheo, Theo and Ron managed to gently lower her body to the ground and you immediately went to check her over, until she began thrashing and screaming again, knocking away your approaching hand, sending an excruciating sensation up your forearm.

You winced, but only Riddle seemed to notice.

Enzo and Zabini came sprinting up the lane at that moment, Hagrid following hastily behind them.

"Get back!" the gamekeeper yelled, prompting you to all back away from Katie.

Leanne was a mess, sobbing as she tried to explain to Hagrid but he seemed to hear none of it as he stared down at the writhing girl for a moment. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and began to run back up to the castle with her, carrying her piercing screams with him.

Hermione and Pansy immediately went to Leanne's aid, but you didn't move from your spot on the floor, staring at your arm, that was still burning.

Someone knelt in front of you, and expecting Theo, you looked up, startled to find Riddle, staring at you.

You looked away from him, but he cupped your chin with his fingers to bring your gaze to his.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, a curious look on his face, and underlines of worry were there too. But you only had one concern.

"Why could I feel the dark magic in that necklace? And why did she burn me and not any of you?" you asked timidly. You appeared to be shaking, from the adrenaline or the cold, you were none the wiser.

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure it out." he assured, he looked as confused as you felt.

"How?" you snapped. "You haven't shown up for the past week, Riddle."

He sighed as if annoyed before he did something you didn't know he was caple of.

"I'm sorry, okay. You caught me off guard, and I panicked. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Did you just apologise to me, Mattheo?" a slow smile began to graze your face.

"Tell anyone and I'll make you regret it." he muttered, but his brown eyes carried mirth as he stared at you.

You were about to reply when you saw Ron in the corner of your eye crounching bu the antique necklace.

"Don't touch it, Ron!" you said, jumping up, bursting the bubble that you and Riddle had created. Your friend startled and moved away from the necklace.

"I've seen it before." Harry mumbled and you watched as Riddle and all his friends tensed, it was a wonder that none of the boys you were with started throwing insults towards eachother. "On display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed, Katie must've touched it."

Theo scoffed, which seemed to remind the trio that the Slytherins were still there.

"Something to say, Nott?" Ron snapped.

"Anyone with a brain can see that it was cursed, Weasley. But you still went to touch it. Thank Salazar for Meadow." Theo rebutted and you had half the mind to stand between the two of them to stop the fight, but you felt lightheaded. You needed to sit down, or maybe sleep for a week.

You grabbed hold of the closest thing for stability: Riddle's stupidly strong arm. He startled but said nothing as he held you up, hands cradling your forearms.

What's wrong? His voice was a soft caress.

I feel like I might pass out. My arm is burning.

Did you touch the necklace?

I think I'd be halfway in the air if I did, Mattheo.

He looks concerned.

I'm taking you to Madame Promfrey. Take the necklace too.

He seems to say something to Theo, who interrupts a sobbing Leanne in favour of levitating the necklace away.

"We'll take this to Madame Pomfrey." he says and at Hermione's troubled look, he reassures her. "Meadow's with us. She'll make sure it gets there Granger."

With that, you're guided away by the Slytherin prince and all his friends, but it all feels like a fever dream.

~∞~

the change in nickname🫢

and Meadow called him Mattheo instead of Riddle🤭

gonna start a taglist too, as its been requested so comment if you want to be added xxx

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #theo nott #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #hogsmeade #serendipity series

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rollinouttahere-writes-misc · 14 days ago

Note

Platonic Yandere Sukuna and reader who is the reincarnation of his daughter.

Like Father Like Daughter

Yandere Sukuna x Reincarnated Daughter Reader

5.4k words

Summary: When a mission takes a turn for the worse, you receive help from the last person you ever would have expected it from.

Warnings: female presenting reader, violence, gore, severe bodily injuries to reader, body horror, talk of cannibalism

This was supposed to be short, but alas, brevity is a skill I lack. And Sukuna is just fun to write lol

Itadori could sleep through a bomb going off, you’re sure of it.

After inviting himself into your room to hang out and listen to music with you, he’d seemingly gotten a little too comfortable on your bed and promptly passed out in spite of the heavy metal music that was blasting from the speaker on your phone. Through all of the guitar riffs, crashing cymbals, and screamed vocals, he remained in a peaceful, unbothered slumber.

Gojo did run him ragged between missions and training, so you guess him sleeping like a rock wasn’t that surprising. You decide to let him sleep for now. You don’t mind your kouhai crashing in your room for a much needed nap.

Yuji was alright. Sure, you’d been dubious of his presence initially, but who wasn’t? Gojo just threw some kid at you, saying that he had eaten some of Sukuna’s fingers as if that was a regular occurrence. Then again, he had introduced Yuta in a very similar manner, so you guess gaining overpowered newbie classmates had become a somewhat normal happening around these parts.

Initially, Yuji’s downright excessive positivity had been, well… annoying, if you were being blunt. But him constantly sidling up to you and acting like you were best friends seemingly wore you down. He was a breath of fresh air. Kind of like a little brother clambering for his siblings’ approval. You didn’t mind it anymore.

Although, him hanging around you did come with one significant downside.

“What is this drivel? I can hardly hear myself think.”

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You shoot a sideways glance at where Yuji is sound asleep on your bed. A red, slanted eye meets your gaze. The lips beneath it were pressed into a frown, but curl up into a smirk once he sees that he successfully got your attention.

Great. Now you have to deal with Sukuna and his snark all by your lonesome. You reach out to your phone and press the volume up button rapidly, but it stays the same. The music was already on max volume.

“Are you deaf? Your king asked you a question.” Sukuna’s tone was as sharp as ever, petulant ridealong that he was.

“My king? I don’t have one of those.” You internally kick yourself for engaging with him.

“As rude as ever, I see. Manners have always been something that evaded your grasp.” His malicious grin seeped into each word, making you want to slap him, but you refrain. Last time you tried that he disappeared at the last second, so all you did was send poor Yuji through a wall. Oops.

“What would you know?” Each word is ground out through clenched teeth. You need to calm down. He’s trying to get under your skin, and you’re letting him. To distract yourself, you try to recenter your attention on the book you’d been paging through before you were so rudely interrupted.

There was a bout of silence, but it was woefully brief. Sukuna piped up again, “What are you reading?”

What was his deal? Why was that parasyte so transfixed on you? Even in group settings, he had a tendency to single you out whenever he did choose to make an appearance. Granted, that’s probably because you’re too reactive to not feed into his antics. As much as you want to try and block him out, you knew that giving him the silent treatment would only encourage him to up the ante until he couldn’t be ignored.

With a sigh, you answer him dryly, “A history book.”

“Ah. For your studies, I presume?”

You shake your head while keeping your eyes on the pages, “No. I just like history. I think it’s interesting.”

“I see.” There is a pause, and then he presses on, “Is there any particular period that intrigues you most?”

“The Heian period.” Your answer comes out almost instantaneously. It was a truly fascinating era, especially culturally. What with all the developments in art and literature at the time. You’ve felt a draw to this section of history for as long as you can remember.

“Fascinating.” Once again, you can hear the grin in his voice. Why he would care about your personal interests is beyond you, but you weren’t about to investigate it. As it stands, you’ve already entertained far more conversation with him than you should have.

In an attempt to shut yourself up since you appeared to be quite bad at that, you pick up the kind of forgotten cup of instant ramen on your desk and scoop some lukewarm noodles into your mouth. Unfortunately, Sukuna only saw this as more opportunity to yap.

“It’s no wonder you’re so weak if you’re “nourishing” yourself with that slop.”

Just like that, he had you roped back in. You swallow your food and spin your desk chair around enough to glare at him, “I’m not weak, asshole.”

“But you concede that what you’re eating is slop?” Sukuna’s smirk becomes so frustratingly smug that you have to remind yourself that hitting him will really just be hitting Yuji.

“It tastes fine to me. Since when do you care about my eating habits? Actually, since when do you care about food in general? Didn’t you, like, eat raw human flesh or some shit?” You shovel more noodles into your mouth, trying to finish them before they’re completely cold.

A dry chuckle escapes him, “That is true. There is a certain tang to flesh that you can only experience when it’s in its most natural state.”

His musings make your face scrunch up. “That’s disgusting.”

“Is it? I seem to recall you consuming raw flesh just last week.”

“What?”

Sukuna rolled his eye at your mildly horrified confusion. “You did. At that restaurant where the food kept coming to the table on its own. You were eating quite voraciously if I remember correctly.”

What? Oh! “You mean the sushi train restaurant? That was fish, that’s obviously completely different.”

“I disagree. Humans, fish, they’re all the same to me. Both are pathetically fragile creatures whose purpose in life is to be sustenance to something stronger than them. The only difference being that humans taste better.”

“That-” You cut yourself off. Having an ethics debate with Sukuna of all people might possibly be the dumbest waste of time in history. “Whatever. I’m not having this discussion with you.”

“Come now, are you really that squeamish? How unlike you.” When you don’t respond, he continues, “Don’t you think you should try something before passing judgement? I think you’ll find that you have a taste for human flesh if you were to introduce it to your palette.”

The insane statement makes you physically recoil and stare at him in horror, which only serves to egg him on, “What? Don't tell me you've never considered it. I wouldn't believe that for a second.”

You spring out of your chair and march over to him. “Fuck you, I don't eat people! I'm not a monster like you!”

“We have more in common than you realize.” The grin on his face was nothing short of wicked.

Before anything else can be said, his eye and mouth close and vanish from sight. Yuji yawns and stretches a few seconds later as he wakes from his slumber. Was the timing coincidental, or was there something about that conversation that Sukuna didn’t want anyone else to hear?

Honestly, there were parts of it that you didn't want anyone else to hear, so maybe you should just be grateful that Sukuna stopped when he did.

Yuji rubs his eyes and sits up, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.” He looks over at you and takes note of your pensive expression, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No.” The lie comes out before you can even really contemplate it, forcing you to double down, “You were talking in your sleep. Mumbling something about Jennifer Lawrence.”

“I was?” His face turns bright red at the false accusation. “H-Hey, you’re just messing with me, right?”

You can’t help but chuckle at his mortification and feed into it more, “Nah, sounded like you were making out or something.”

“I wasn’t! I would definitely remember a dream like that!”

“So you have had dreams like that before?”

“That’s not what I meant!”

—

“Anything in there should be pretty low grade, nothing you two can’t handle. Probably just the disgruntled spirits of some animals that died there, or something like that.” Gojo’s voice crackles through the speaker of the phone, sounding more garbled than usual. He was probably actively stuffing his face as you spoke, “But if you run into trouble, you can always call upon me, your favorite teacher, to come to your rescue!”

“I think we’ll be fine. Talk to you later.” You end the call and toss your phone to Yuji. The eerie landscape of an abandoned zoo is sprawled out in front of you. There have been reports of pets going missing around this area, and also some people who went exploring here coming out with claw and bite marks. The zoo had a history of mistreating and underfeeding their animals, so Gojo’s idea that this was the manifestation of those animals suffering seemed likely. Whatever is lurking around in there is bound to be weak and unintelligent. Probably a bunch of grade 4’s, maybe a grade 3 at best.

Nothing to be afraid of.

“Are you sure it's a good idea to leave your phone with me? What if you need to use it?” Yuji was currently fidgeting with your phone in his hands, hesitating to put it away.

“Yeah, I always end up breaking the damn thing whenever I fight. It's better off in your hands than mine.” You've lost track of how many phones you've damaged beyond repair since your enrollment. Gojo never complained about replacing them, but once you saw the stash of new phones he kept around just for you, you started to feel a little bad about your carelessness, so now you leave it with whoever you go on a mission with. That, or you stuff it in your bag and try to leave it far enough away from the fight to spare it the carnage.

You heave your cursed weapon up onto your shoulder. The cool metal of your kanabō rests heavy, but it’s a weight you’re more than accustomed to. You elbow Yuji, “You ready to go in?”

Yuji nods his head excitedly, “I was born ready!” He pockets your phone and cracks his knuckles.

“That’s what I like to hear!” You clap him on the shoulder, then throw your weapon over the fence so you can climb it. The club hits the ground with a loud crack, fracturing and embedding itself in the pavement it landed on. Yuji gawks at the display, nearly falling off the top of the fence.

“Whoa! How much does that thing weigh?”

“I dunno. A lot? I’ve never weighed it before.” You yank it out of the broken sidewalk with ease and return it to its rightful place on your shoulder.

“But you swing it around like it’s nothing. I thought it was only like, slightly more heavy than a baseball bat.” Yuji drops down next to you, openly eying up the spiked club.

“This thing is pure iron, it definitely weighs more than a baseball bat.” You survey your surroundings, trying to focus on where the cursed energy is coming from. There isn’t any one clear source. You can feel traces of cursed energy all over the place. “It looks like there’s an infestation of curses here, but nothing powerful. I don’t think there’s anything above a grade 4, so let’s split up and get this done as quickly as possible before Gojo comes sticking his nose in it.”

“Split up? Have you never watched a horror movie before? Or been on a mission before? Splitting up is when everything goes wrong.”

“Aww!” You pinch Yuji’s cheek, “Is the newbie scared?” You laugh and release him, “I’m scarier than anything in here, don’t worry about it. If you get overwhelmed, just yell. I’ll come bail you out.” Without giving him a chance to respond, you run towards the nearest detectable cluster of cursed energy.

Giddiness fills your very soul. This is what you lived for. Attending Jujutsu High could be a bit of a drag at times, but you tolerated it for this. For the ample opportunities to let loose and mow down curses. The exhilarating rush of feeling their feeble bodies splatter under your attacks, their screams as you snuffed them out of existence, it made you feel whole. Like this was what you were made for.

That’s actually how you got recruited into the school in the first place. Gojo found you pummeling a cursed spirit he was supposed to take care of with your bare hands, and the rest was history. He brought you to the school the same day, which you had no complaints about. Between a clean dorm and the cramped institution the foster care system stuffed you into, it was easy to see which one was better. The school was initially unenthused about letting in some kid from a non sorcerer family, but after you came back from a mission you’re pretty sure they hadn’t expected you to come back from, they learned to see your value.

You swing your kanabō at the chained door, effortlessly bashing it open. What might have been a barren building to a normal eye was bustling with spirits ready to be exorcised. Dozens of pairs of beady eyes snapped toward your loud entrance. You didn’t even need to look at the sign out front to know what exhibit this was. All of the forest themed enclosures filled with faux vines and climbables were already a strong hint, but then you say the curses themselves, all dysmorphic facsimiles of primates.

Too many eyes, extra limbs, tails that were too long and some of them split into several opposable appendages.

Oh. This is going to be fucking fantastic.

They all swarm at you shrieking like monkeys but with a haunting undertone betraying their true identities. You leap into the air then slam the club down into the crowd. At least ten die on impact as the concrete shatters under the force of the blow, leaving a crater and pool of gore in its wake.

You rip your weapon free and swipe at the group running at you from behind. Blood sprays out and coats the wall. Another swing in front of you leaves a similar wave of death and destruction. You’re killing them by the dozen, but they don’t appear to be thinning out yet.

The swarm suddenly diverges away from you, all congregating and climbing on top of each other into one giant, writhing mass. You tighten your grip on the leather handle of your weapon as you wait to see what they're up to.

Hundreds of eyes snuff out, only for two larger ones to snap open and a deafening roar to echo through the building as the creature pounds on its chest. While the curses before had been a variety of monkey like creatures, this was clearly trying to impersonate a gorilla.

“Now that's more like it!” A maniacal cackle cuts through the air as you swing your club round and round to build up momentum, then let it fly.

It hits the creature dead in the chest, the force of which sends a shockwave through the air that makes all of the glass in the room shatter. You give chase, sprinting after your opponent as it crashes through wall after wall.

Five walls deep, it finally loses enough speed to only crack the sixth. Before it can even register the attack, you're on top of it with a kunai in each hand. You bring them down in rapid succession stabbing the monster over and over and over again, not giving a damn about the blood and viscera coating your uniform and skin as you laugh hysterically at its pathetic attempts to defend itself.

After countless stab wounds, it stops moving, then begins to dissipate into a dark mist as the life within is cut short. You finally stop your assault and stand up. That was fun, but hardly challenging.

“Weak.” You kick the last solid part of the curse across the room, and bring one of your kunai to your lips and lick it clean. The metallic and almost acidic taste of the cursed blood coats your tongue. It's good, it helps scratch an itch, but it doesn't completely satiate your cravings.

Sukuna's words echo in your mind. “I think you’ll find that you have a taste for human flesh if you were to introduce it to your palette.”

That's insane. He's insane. You absolutely do not have a taste for people. He just said that to fuck with your head, you're sure of it.

Dwelling on the inane bullshit that comes out of the King of Curses mouth won't do you any good. It's in your best interest to just forget about it and move on. You sheathe your now clean blades and then pick up your fallen kanabō. That takes care of that. Maybe you should go check on Yuji and see how he's holding up.

The pressure in the air changed sharply, and you barely have time to react before a slash cuts through the air, nearly decapitating you.

You look up from where you're ducked down on the ground and see a new curse staring at you. It was this bloody, pulsating mass of thorn laden vines with one bloodshot, yellow eye gleaming at the center.

That definitely wasn't here before. The energy radiating off of it wasn't something you or any sorcerer would miss. It just got here, and from the looks of it… this thing was grade 1. An entire grade above you.

It must've been drawn by the influx of cursed energy, either from the ape monster you just killed or yourself-

Yuji!

Shit! It might have been drawn to Sukuna’s presence inside him! But if it was, why was it bothering you? Unless… you weren't the first person it got to. Was it supposed to look bloody, or was that…

You toss your weapon up in the air and catch it with a renewed energy, “That better not be my friend you're covered in you fucking weed.”

The curse hisses, then lunges at you. Despite its higher level of power, it didn't appear to be intelligent enough for speech. You run around it while batting away volleys of vines. Your blows were doing nothing to harm it, just redirect it. As much as you hated to admit it, you were out of your depth.

While you possessed immense physical strength, you completely lacked any clear techniques. Your only “technique” to speak of was beating things until they died. Anything that couldn't easily be crushed to death posed a legitimate threat to you, and this creature had the upper hand. The only part of it that you think you could damage with your kanabō was the center where the eye was, but its tentacle like vines were extremely effective at keeping you at bay. The thorns were the size of your fingers, they would rip you to shreds.

Fighting it was out of the question for you. Loathe as you are to admit it, you need to call in the cavalry. You need Gojo. But, your phone was still with Yuji, and depending on the state you'll find him in, it might not even be working.

This was really bad, and you doubt it could get much worse.

“Is that really all you're going to do? I must admit, I'm disappointed. This isn't like you, (Y/N).”

You and your big fucking mouth! Both you and the curse come to an immediate halt. The vine amalgamation shrivels in on itself and makes a whimpering noise. Even it was smart enough to not be acting a fool in front of the King of Curses.

Sukuna was sitting atop a broken support pillar and staring down at you with an amused glimmer in his eyes. His body appeared to be fully intact, but the knowledge that Yuji was physically fine did little to soothe your nerves now.

“Come now, are you really going to run away and beg for help? I thought you were better than that. Where's that bloodthirsty nature I know and love?” You don't miss the emphasis he put on bloodthirsty, and it sends a shiver down your spine. No. He doesn't know about that. He hasn't seen any of that. He's fucking with you again.

“You.” Sukuna quickly turns his attention to the cowering curse behind you, making it flinch. “You're a curse, are you not? Act like it. Try to kill the sorcerer.”

Not wanting to gain the king's ire, the curse instantly lashes out at you. You yelp and leap back to dodge it. You're sprinting backwards and blocking attacks all while yelling at Sukuna, “What the hell, man?! Don't just sick curses on me!”

“I'll do as I please.” You jump up into the air just in time to avoid the vines trying to snag your feet and start climbing up the wall using the tattered rope net hanging loosely from it.

“You aren't going to win this battle by only defense. You will run out of energy long before the curse will, you need to go on the offense.”

“I don't remember asking you for help!” You scramble up onto the ceiling beam and run across it while closely monitoring the creature below, hoping against all odds that you'll see any semblance of an opening. You don't.

“Yet you will receive it. Academia has made you weak. You're overthinking again. What you need to do is give the reins to your instincts, they're far sharper than any lesson you've been taught at that school, I guarantee it.” Sukuna sounded almost bored, but not quite. There was some sort of edge to his voice, but your frazzled mind couldn't place it what with the plant monster trying to kill you.

“Oh, so you just want me to charge at that thing with zero plan and let it tear me into a million pieces?” The curse grabs onto the beam you're, making it crack and start to fall. You leap onto a nearby chandelier in a blind panic, but the chain immediately buckles under your weight and snaps.

A scream escapes you as you and the chandelier fall right on top of the curse. It shrieks and fails launching you and pieces of the shattered chandelier away from it. You hit the ground hard and roll until you crash into the wall.

You might be dazed, but so is the creature. It wails and scrambles back, withdrawing its cut and snapped vines into itself. There are less appendages to deal with now, but this still won't be an easy fight by any means. Not with how pissed it looks.

When it screams in anger, you throw yourself back onto your feet to run, but it's right on your heels. You whirl around and hit it with your kanabō as hard as you can, and lucky for you the main part of its body was close enough for the blow to connect directly.

It reels back, screeching in agony and blindly lashing out. You block the first few hits, but they keep coming and overwhelm you. All you can do is scream when the thorny vines wrap around each of your limbs. A burning sensation floods your nervous system shortly after, because of course this thing has poison on it. That about sums up your luck!

The only good thing is that with all your limbs latched onto, the curse appears to have finally run out of usable appendages. The vines under its eye split apart, revealing a vertical slit of razor sharp teeth. It tries to bite you, but you shove your club into its mouth, successfully stopping it from ripping out a chunk of your flesh.

Now you two were locked in a standoff, waiting to see whose strength would falter first so the other could finally end this fight. Oh, what you wouldn't give to have an extra set of hands right now!

“What are you waiting for? Put your cursed technique to use already.”

You look over your shoulder to yell back at Sukuna, “I don't have one!”

Unexpectedly, Sukuna had abandoned the pillar and was now circling around you and the curse with a scrutinizing gaze. “Yes you do. Every sorcerer does. All you need to do is let it out.”

“Oh, why didn't I think of that! Silly me!” You spit back sarcastically. “Obviously I can't do that, otherwise I already would have!”

“That school has coddled you. Made you soft. If you really want to survive, you'll figure it out.” His voice becomes more firm and authoritative, “Now give in to your instincts! Let out your true strength and prove that you're worthy of living!”

The curse pushes forward, constricting the vines around your arms and legs more. You scream as the thorns dig deeper. You need to get the upper hand! You need to fight harder! You need… another set of limbs!

In some deep, secret part of your mind, something just clicks. Like a long forgotten memory bursting to life and taking front and center in your brain.

A loud crack echoes through the room, followed by a series of crunches as something starts moving inside your back. It's so sudden and intense that all you can let out is a choked scream as flesh begins to tear. You fall to your knees, so distracted by the pain that you don't even notice that the curse has retreated.

Muscles and sinew explode out of your back in two places, right where your shoulder blades are, you think, but it's impossible to focus on anything right now. Your screams grow louder as you feel something forcing its way out of you. Blood is pouring from the open wounds and running down your arms and pooling around your hands.

Two things slam onto the ground on either side of you, and for a second you think it's the curse, but it isn't.

Hands. Two massive, clawed hands at least three times the size of yours are digging into the busted concrete. The limbs appear to be skinless, as you can see the twitching muscle fibers and veins in it directly.

As your eyes trail upwards, you follow the arms to their source. At least as well as you can, given that they seem to be coming out of your back.

“What the fuck?”

Sukuna crackles behind you and cheers, “Yes! That's it! Go on now, show that pathetic whelp of a curse what true power is!”

The curse yelps when your head snaps up in its direction. It seemed to be heavily reconsidering its decision to attack you. It was scared now. Good. It fucking should be.

Acting on pure primal instinct, you lunge for it. You're going to pay it back tenfold for what it did to you.

It shrieks and throws itself out of the way, but one of your hands- the new ones- grabs hold of a few of its vines and yanks it back. Any pain felt in the hand is completely negligible now after having your back torn open. You don't even wince at the thorns piercing it.

When the curse is close enough, the other bonus hand grabs the frantically writhing vines on the other side of it and pulls them taught. Your prey is the one completely immobilized now.

Using your actual hands, you raise up your kanabō and bring it down with a sickening squelching noise as dark green blood splatters all around and over you. You hit the screeching mass beneath you over and over again, laughing maniacally as you become drunk off the power from turning the tables so drastically.

At some point, it died. You can't be sure when. You were too caught up in the moment to be paying attention to when it's screams turned to gurgles, then to silence. But it was dead, that much was for certain. All that was left of it were some mangled vines and a large green stain on the floor.

All of the adrenaline that had been coursing through your veins and pushing you forward began to dissipate. In its absence was a fresh wave of absolute agony.

The arms jerk and twitch, then retract into your back painfully. You don't even have the energy left to scream. Your body grows slack, then falls forward. All the pain, poison, and blood loss now fully in effect.

Instead of face planting into the floor, you fall into someone's arms and wearily look up. Yuji? No.

Yuji still isn't here.

Sukuna holds you at arms’ length, carefully appraising your battered form. He looks almost… proud? Nah, that has to be the blood loss talking.

“That went better than I expected. It seems you can still use that technique of yours well. It still needs work, of course. I expect you to train vigorously to hone your skills.”

You can't ignore it any longer and bring up the elephant in the room. “You talk like you know me.”

That same flicker of pride(?) reappears in his eyes. “So you have noticed. Excellent. I was beginning to think the modern era had fully dulled your wits.” You don't even have the strength to get mad over his jab.

“How?”

“How indeed. I'm sure you will be able to find that answer on your own. You're sharper than most would give you credit for.”

You aren't given a chance to pry more. In the blink of an eye, his features relax and soften, signaling his retreat back into his host body's subconscious.

Light brown eyes blink slowly as Yuji regains control. He's briefly in a daze, but quickly snaps to attention when he takes notice of you.

And then immediately drops you in surprise. You land face first on the ground with a pained groan. “Ow…”

Yuji drops onto the ground next to you and rolls you onto your side, frantically looking you over only to continuously find more and more injuries. “(Y/N)?! What happened to you?! Did… Did I…”

“No. You didn't do anything, and neither did he. Some stupid grade 1 curse showed up and got me pretty good.”

“Where is it now?” Yuji immediately picks you up, causing a whole new wave of pain to course through you as you're jostled.

“It's dead, I killed it, please put me down!” You writhe uncomfortably in his grasp, desperately trying to shift your back so that his arm isn't pressed directly into the wounds from the “arms”.

He's quick to do as you say and very carefully lays you on a nearby bench face down. “This is really bad, I told you it was a bad idea to split up!”

“Can you at least wait until we're back at the dorms before hitting me with an “I told you so”? Just… call Gojo and tell him to come pick us up.” You quickly tack on, “Oh, and tell him to bring Shoko.” You were not about to wait the duration of the ride back for medical treatment, thank you very much.

“Right,” Yuji fumbles to get a phone out of his pocket, either yours or his, whichever he finds first.

As he yells into it for Gojo to get here as quickly as possible with Shoko, your mind drifts back to everything that just transpired.

How did Sukuna not only know that you had a secret cursed technique, but how to trigger it to come out? It was almost like he'd done this with you before.

Maybe he had with the way he was talking about you. There was definitely some substance to his words, but you'll be damned if you can figure it out right now in your current state.

Your eyes are heavy, so you let them rest. You'll get to the bottom of this later, once you've had a chance to recover.

Then all you'll need to do is find a way to speak with Sukuna again. Alone.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #reader insert #x reader

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