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cloversnstrawberries · 1 day 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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thomamaru · 2 days ago

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Hierarchy of Intimacy (Chapter Yukimiya)

Synopsis: You were stumped with university and never-ending deadlines. Sleepless nights continued, and you were bound to get a fever from the habit. You refused to kiss due to being sick, but i don't think your boyfriend would like the idea of missing the chance to kiss you.

Tags: Yukimiya Kenyu x gn!reader, fluff, reassurance, petname "sweetheart"

Author notes: this is a series based on a trend of tiktok. characters that will be included is nagi, yukimiya, rin, chigiri, isagi, reo, kunigami, sae, and bachira. If you want to add a character, you can request with a prompt :)

The clock struck midnight, casting a dull chime throughout your room. Piles of textbooks and notebooks surrounded you like a fortress, the once-organized workspace now a chaotic battlefield of highlighted notes, scattered papers, and drained coffee mugs.

The dim light of your desk lamp cast long shadows as you scribbled down one more formula, ignoring the pounding ache behind your eyes.

This had been your life for the past few weeks: endless studying, deadlines looming like storm clouds. It wasn’t that you wanted to overdo it—you simply wanted to succeed.

But tonight, something was different. A wave of heat spread through your body, making it hard to focus on the page in front of you. Your head throbbed, and your limbs felt as heavy as lead.

Just as you attempted to fight through the haze, your door creaked open, revealing Yukimiya.

His usual calm, caring demeanor was marred by an obvious crease of concern on his face.

“(Y/N), you’re still working?” His voice was firm, yet the underlying gentleness in it made your heart ache.

He walked into the room, his eyes scanning the mess. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Again.”

Before you could protest, he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. His touch was cool, stark against your fevered skin. “You’re burning up,” he said with a frown.

You tried to wave him off, though the effort made your arm feel like it weighed a hundred pounds. “I’m fine, really. I just need to finish this—”

Yukimiya interrupted with a sigh, holding up a thermometer. “Let’s see how ‘fine’ you are,” he said, slipping it under your tongue before you could argue further.

The moment dragged on in tense silence until the thermometer beeped. His frown deepened as he read the screen. “39.1 degrees Celsius. That’s not ‘fine,’ (Y/N).”

You winced as he gave you a pointed look. “You’re always like this—ignoring your limits, no matter how many times I’ve told you to rest.” His voice softened, though the worry in his eyes was still evident. “You’re going to make yourself seriously sick one day.”

Your shoulders sagged under his words, and you offered a sheepish pout. “I know, I know. I’m sorry…”

He shook his head, running a hand through his soft brown hair. “Apologies mean nothing if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yukimiya turned on his heel and headed out of the room, calling back over his shoulder, “Stay in bed. I’ll be back with some soup.”

The sound of clinking dishes from the kitchen pulled you from your haze. Yukimiya was always like this—patient, caring, but also deeply protective of the people he loved.

You’d lost count of the times he’d saved you from your own carelessness, from pulling you back when you almost walked into traffic, to wrapping you in his scarf when you forgot yours on a bitterly cold day.

And now, here he was again, quietly taking care of you despite your stubbornness.

Moments later, he returned with a steaming bowl of soup and a damp towel. He set the tray on the bedside table, carefully placing the cool towel on your forehead. “This should help bring your fever down,” he murmured.

You gave him a small smile, which quickly turned playful when he took a spoonful of soup and moved it toward your lips.

“I can eat by myself, you know,” you teased, though your voice was hoarse.

“Come on, just let me do this for you,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

Resigning to his care, you let him spoon-feed you. Each bite was warm and soothing, the perfect remedy for your exhausted body.

After finishing, Yukimiya set the bowl aside and shifted to sit closer to you. He lowered his head onto your lap, looking up at you with a gentle smile.

His golden-brown eyes, always so kind and steady, stared into yours. “You’ve really got to stop doing this to yourself,” he said softly. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and before you realized it, tears were sliding down your cheeks.

Yukimiya immediately sat up, his smile replaced with alarm. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice laced with concern as his hands cupped your cheeks.

You blinked in surprise, touching your face and realizing you were crying. “I—I’m sorry, Yuki,” you choked out, the words tumbling from your lips in a flurry.

“I’m such a hassle. You’re always taking care of me, even when I don’t listen to you. I don’t deserve you.”

He was silent for a moment, then gently wiped your tears away with his thumbs.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice as warm as the soup he’d made you. “You’re not a hassle. Taking care of you…it’s not a burden. It’s something I do because I love you.”

Your breath hitched as his words sunk in, more tears trickling down your cheeks. “But I keep making things harder for you…”

Yukimiya leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your eye, where a tear threatened to fall.

“You don’t. I don’t mind any of it,” he reassured, his lips grazing your skin. “I care about you, (Y/N), and I actually enjoy looking after you. It makes me happy to see you cared for.”

His sincerity made your chest tighten. How did you get so lucky to have someone like him in your life?

More tears welled up, spilling freely down your cheeks. Yukimiya moved to pull you into a comforting kiss, but you quickly placed your hands on his chest to stop him.

“Yuki, you’ll catch my cold,” you protested weakly. He chuckled, a gentle and melodic sound.

“I’d rather catch it than miss the chance to kiss you,” he said, tilting your chin up.

His lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to melt all your worries away.

Despite your fever, it was the warmest, most comforting feeling in the world.

When he pulled back, he smiled down at you, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

“You don’t have to be perfect, you know. You just have to take care of yourself. For me, okay?”

Your eyes softened, and you nodded, gripping his hand in yours. “Okay, Yuki. I’ll try.”

And for the first time in weeks, you felt truly at peace—wrapped in the warmth of his love and care.

Reminder: It's not a sin to take a rest!!!!!

#bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #yukimiya kenyu #bllk yukimiya #blue lock yukimiya #yukimiya x reader #kenyu yukimiya x reader #kenyu yukimiya #bllk fic

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erinwantstowrite · 13 days ago

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what are your thoughts abot how Damian and Tim's relationship is portrayed in most fanfics?

personally, although I like the angst part of their relationship I wish there was more fanfics where they're closer and have real siblings dynamic (like u know they 'hate' eachother but they would destroy anyone who would want to hurt their brother)

oh, boy, do i have a lot to say about this one. buckle in, folks.

i feel like a lot of the time, if they're in a fic together and the fic author doesn't like one of them, the other is going to be mischaracterized to hell and back. sometimes... both are mischaracterized.

i'm all for a fanon interpretation of a character- obviously, because i have fanon interpretations in my fic too at least a wee bit- but sometimes it goes too far and it no longer feels like we're reading about the same character

let's talk about Tim.

Tim doesn't have a good view of himself or his standing in any emotional aspect. which is often misconstrued about him believing that he was Jason's replacement (neither he nor Bruce thought this, but it was Bruce's fear), or that his worth as Robin wasn't enough. that's not true at all. i'll say it again here: Jason didn't nearly kill Tim at Titan's Tower, nor did he go there to kill Tim. and Tim fought him back. he even told Jason to his face:

"you can't be that good" "I am."

he knows he's a damn good Robin! he trained with the best, he helps lead the YJ! he doesn't doubt that he was the best person for the job. but when it comes to the emotional aspect of Robin, i think this is where Tim stutters

this is because of how Tim's parents showed their affection.

i think canon neglects that aspect of his trauma, which is why so many people hang onto it. in the comics, Tim is shown to have a lot of friends both in and out of suit. he's abrasive and isn't afraid to ask the hard questions. but he is riddled with self worth issues. his parents were barely around him, they didn't know him well at all. and they loved him, but from a distance.

Tim now sees himself as someone that can receive love from a distance. he is incredibly self reliant, and has been from a young age. he sees all of his accomplishments as obligations. he does well at school because he had to. he takes care of himself because he had to. and in his mind, taking up Robin was partly another obligation. he does his job well because he has to, and he might doubt this sometimes like anyone else, but at the end of the day he is confident in his ability to get shit done.

now, the emotional part of Batman and Robin is where i believe i enjoy a fanon interpretation more. he actually does have a good relationship with Dick, but I'm not too sure about Bruce at this point. this topic is nuanced because Batman writers make him so diabolical at times to the point that i would consider it ooc. but other times they're very close and Bruce admits this. so i replace it in my head with a more stable and realistic version that i've seen written by fic authors very well.

Tim views himself as someone who is there for a job: help Batman. but there is a lot of wonder and awe there. his favorite Robin was Dick. (I'll say this again so everyone hears me: his favorite Robin was Dick. yes you are allowed to have nuance and put Jason in there as someone he looked up to as well, please do. but put some respect on Dick's name!) now that he's working with Dick Grayson, someone he admires so much, as well as getting the honor to wear the Robin suit, he feels more like himself than he has in years. he's good at this, and it's also fun. he meets so many people and he gets to make a difference in the world. yes, it's a job, but it's also very freeing

he never did this be Bruce's son, or to replace Jason. his relationship with Bruce started off extremely rocky, with Tim forcing himself into his life in some way because he believed that Batman was going to get himself killed or get someone else killed, or Batman would cross the line. and Gotham would lose the only person who had such unwavering optimism for them. he and Bruce come to an understanding of being partners but not father and son. Bruce doesn't want to open himself up to that hurt again. but we all know Bruce, and that's not what ended up happening. Bruce would never be the same person he was before, but he is not incapable of love.

Tim would not understand that change. I'd get more into this but i don't want this post too long and i wanna save it for when i'm not supposed to be sleeping and when i'm writing one of my Tim fics for once. all we really need to know is that Tim's emotional intelligence is dogshit, and him coming to see Bruce as a father, and Bruce seeing him as a son, would baffle him. because his parents love him... at a distance. and Bruce sees him every day. that's not how it's supposed to work, right?

so.

sometimes, Tim is treated like a porcelain doll who can do no wrong. many aspects of his canon has been altered by fanon to be "worse" than it is. his neglect by his parents did, indeed, happen, and it affects him deeply. but his parents weren't like. beating him, or leaving him without food or shelter or supervision. Tim was clever enough to get around that supervision all on his own. which is why they should have been there in the first place. (they should have been there regardless). and emotional neglect is still a very real issue??? no one has to make it "worse" by making the Drakes out to be monsters. i think Jack often emotionally manipulated Tim when he was around, and I don't know if Jack was even aware that he did so. (which is why i can see some people delving into that nonexistent relationship that DC gave us, and finally giving those implications more depth. there are a lot of good fics that go over this)

often it's hard to read a fic for Tim because they go too hard into making Tim an anxious shy ball of sunshine. Tim is weird, and he stalked the Bats, he stalked Nightwing, he broke into Titan's Tower before he even became Robin. he's a weirdo. he fits right in with the Bats for that reason. some people make him out to be the victim or some kind of damsel in distress, and sometimes we get to see a phenomena where other characters talk like a book about emotional intelligence that their therapist gave them. which is... fine, if you're just writing to write it, maybe helping yourself. but let's take a step back and see Tim is not like that. he is a very capable person, and his not some "uwu, woe is me, i'm so shitty at everything and if you even look at me wrong i'll cry." i honestly believe that Tim is the type of character to hate crying in front of someone and even if he was actively dying he'd be holding back those tears.

whereas Damian? gets the opposite treatment??

granted, i don't actually know too much about Damian, but i at least try to understand him and his background

he's the youngest of them, and i think many people forget that Damian isn't a reader of the comics like we are. he wasn't going into that family with the emotional connections to these characters and their backstories like we did. he was taught about these people, the idea of them. like how we could be taught in class about people from a long time ago. and i can ensure you that Damian was not taught proper emotional intelligence, nor would he have the best grasp of it himself when he was younger than 9 years old. imagine all of your teachers and also your mother told you about these people and their accomplishments, and then told you that the person all of them look up to is your father. the person that you want nothing more than to know, to see, because the people around you talk about him so highly. someone you haven't gotten to meet yet, because you aren't "worthy." can you imagine being told all your life that you are not worthy to see your father yet? and not knowing if he believes that too?

but one day, you are going to be by his side as his son. i don't want to get too into the culture of the Al Ghul family because i don't actually know that much (i'm sure someone would know more about this, feel free to add on if you want to), but this is important to Damian. it's important to his mom. it's important to his grandfather, the leader of an extensive organization that stretches hundreds of years.

then he gets dropped off in a different country, culture, language, and family and he finds that things are not as he had been told his entire life. his father has many flaws, they do not believe the same importance of a blood tie as his family back home does. they question his entire upbringing to his face many times, they question his mother who he loves deeply. he's nine years old. imagine yourself in that position. you don't know yet what role you're playing in an adult's life, but you want to. desperately. you want to know where you stand. you want a hug. not to mention that Damian actually is a very emotional kid. he was taught to shove that deep, deep down, and not let that out.

too many people write Damian as if he was a "feral" kid which is kind of not something to put on him? i don't like it both because he wasn't feral, he was an asshole. there's a difference. and because it feels like a microaggression?? at times?? because once again... the culture that he is from... is important.

they have been racially profiled for many many years... and yes, everything that you read is political whether you want it to be or not. the act of reading is political. you should definitely be aware of what a writer's goal is when they were giving something to you. you should be reading deeper. again, i'm not from his culture and i can't say if it is an insult/insensitive joke or not, nor am i saying everyone who's made the joke before is a bad person. i have made jokes about Tim being a feral kid before and whatnot. i'm saying that no matter who you are, it is your responsibility to think critically about your media and kindly about other people. it feels uncomfortable to me because i know how wrongly the Al Ghuls (specifically Talia) have been treated by writers in the past. and Damian is an extension of that bias. just look at how many times they try to push Ian Wayne on us. or how they'll pull back on Damian's character development when talking about the Al Ghul family.

this probably isn't my topic to write about, at least not before i learn more about it. but since i get a fair amount of viewership, maybe someone will listen to me that won't listen to someone of color that has already pointed this out many times. with the comics fandom, and Batman fandom specifically sometimes, people don't care to think further about why the characters of color are so often and conveniently left out or forced into an archetype. take that as you will

so! he has spent his entire life believing he had to live up to two great legacies, both of which are VERY different. the intricacies of the Al Ghul family are often boiled down to pure evil by both fanon and canon writers, which dulls Damian's resolve and reasoning for what he had done, or makes it hard to connect to him. he has since learned more about who he wants to be and has come to respect his family in many ways. excuse me if i'm wrong, but i think part of why Damian came so hard for Tim was because Tim had everything Damian wanted. he had a place by Batman's side as both his son and his partner, and was very well respected by Batman and Nightwing both. he's older, more mature, he has stature in both this society Damian now has to fit into and within the family dynamic. considering Damian grew up in an assassin cult that solved threats to their dynamics or positions in power by murder, it wasn't a far leap for a child from that environment to make. he was modelling what he had been taught his entire life.

think about the mistakes that you made as a kid. and i don't mean something silly or funny now, i'm talking something that makes you feel ashamed. embarrassed. hurt. something that perhaps now as an adult, you reflect on as being totally uncool. and i want you to think about if maybe your environment had a role to play in that. maybe you made an insensitive joke that your mom or dad would have found funny, and someone pointed it out and reasonably made you feel like a jerk. shit happens. but you hopefully grew from that.

now imagine that mistake was you hurting someone.

yes, he was annoying. he was bratty, at times. he could be a little calculating shit. he hurt people with both his words and his weapons. Tim obviously had many many many reasons to be upset about his treatment- but I fear that most of his anger ended up directed at the older people in their lives that were supposed to be the ones to do something about it!

and though i hate that Tim went back to being Robin (it feels redundant), i have seen panels that show that the two of them working side by side after Damian and Tim both went through some life and perspective altering events both together and alone, has made Tim see Damian as his little brother, and vice versa. Damian has grown so much and many people just... don't care. no matter their reasoning for hating Damian, it's unfair to not look further than those cutting words written decades ago, or to bring up his mistakes every time you want to be mad at him. and i think it does a disservice to Tim to make him a bleeding heart about this when he has clearly forgiven Damian and cares about him. he rags on Damian like any older brother would, and Damian makes remarks like a younger brother would. personally, i think the two of them are doing pretty good right now

the development of their characters is actually so interesting within the canon aspect, even if they can fumble the ball every now and then. and the mischaracterization takes away the value that their canon relationship has. i personally love reading fics that have Damian and Tim teaming up. in aus where one thing changes and Tim and Damian become brothers later, i think it's actually so silly and fun when Damian respects Tim or thinks he's cool. or even without the au aspect! just like, a fic where the two of them are working together and it's either silly or serious, Damian having a begrudging respect for Tim and Tim being protective over Damian, etc etc, is sooooo much fun

#this got so so so long #but i had a lot to say apparently #again take that one part with a grain of salt #i hope i did that topic some justice #if anyone wants to add on to that who knows more about it please feel free to do so #also also one fic that i think has a super fun tim and damian dynamic is Buzzard #i've recced it here before #i just love that fic #and uhhhh Red Raven i can't remember the author #tim drake #damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne al ghul #robin damian #robin dc #tim drake robin #dc batman #batman comics #batman and robin #erin practically writing an essay again #i have a lot of feelings guys #i think even if you don't like a character you should be putting work in to understand them #and if you still don't like them then that's fine #but if you blatantly don't like them and don't bother to read up on them then you're a hater but in an annoying way #let me know if i forgot a tag im so tired rn

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sah-crescentmoon · 9 hours ago

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I will have to thank you for that idea. I actually failed to mention something about Dalnim and I don't know why. Especially since it has been something I planned and added since the beginning but neer spoke about it. Not sure how I will add it in again. Oh, and I have finished making the omakes for All Eyes on You. Two parts, one for the adults and the second for the classmates. I should from now on add those to be sure no confusions occurs again haha especially because Dalnim is an unreliable narrator (I forgot that word lmao).

As you said, it would be nice to see the perspectives of others. I would love to see what Nayeon is thinking. Also, bro I forgot about Tokgasi. He is forgetable to me and I feel bad. Writing in other perspective does give a nice break on whatever dark stuff we be cooking up y'know? (I am mostly joking here).

About that, I have never thought of it? I did originally have him live with his sisteer, but it never made sense for me. I have it now that he lived somewhere that the school keeps an eye on. So, I guess a dorm. The last two years puts more emphasis on preparing them for military life, so instead of a self-study period, it is more about learning what kind of careers there are and how things will work. Sometimes, they will cancel history class in order to talk more about that if needed. In the omake, I reveal that Dalnim lives in the dorms and shares a room with a classmate (I may or may not be excited to share that!). While this isn't an important part of my story, it would be nice to have some background info y'know? I tried to make a schedule, but I forgot my high school schedule and it's all different now so I can't use that as reference. Did you know instead of 7 classes, they only have 4 now? I wished that was me, but I did like my classes before (except Adv World Literature. That teacher will haunt my dreams. Ok, I am being dramatic but she was the worst).

As for what they are eating... kimchi. That's it. I'm just kidding lol. Honest answer is that I never thought of that. My whole story doesn't revolve too much in the past. The past is just to explain the present. I would have done present first, but I felt it might be a bit too confusing since people would have too many questions and I am shy.

Oh! I know you mentioned making layouts. But that is more details than I thought. It's nice that you are doing that. Shows you are putting a lot of work into your story. I am excited to see where it goes. I would say do things seperately. If you are doing it digitally, you don't want to accidentally merge the layers and somehow the app won't let you undo it. It happens sometimes. It's safer to do it seperately in my opinion.

I am not too sure about layouts of villas (especially since I don't know what that is). But, it's fine to take some liberties if the changes are small or important. Do things as you wish to do as long as it makes sense to you. As someone who reads and looks at your work, I don't go out to fact check you or anything lol. As I always say: don't stress yourself with small details. If the details won't be noticed then don't worry about it. Maybe I am reading that paragraph wrong since reading comprehenstion does not exist for me :D

Thank you. It's been a bit hard to let go of that fact my family could not formally attend the funeral, but I know he will understand regardless. And sorry to hear that you also didn't get a chance to know your own grandfather.

I mean, true. Why break her heart? It's like my mom and sister hiding things from me to make sure I don't get hurt. I can see her grandfather and others being the same. They cares about her too much to hurt her even if it was in a way to protect her. Because it won't take away the fact that someone she is friends with is an enemy.

She is a spy without being a spy or knowing she is one. Though, I wonder if she would feel used if she ever realized that. I can't imagine how it would feel to be in that situation. But, I don't think anyone would allow her to get close to figuring that out.

I am sure you know this already, but if I remember correctly: Nayeon, the idol, has "bunny teeth" so she is referred to as a bunny. Though, she shaved her teeth so they wouldn't resemble the teeth of a bunny. I think she got rid of them. So, there is a chance that is where the name meaning comes from. Because looking at at leat 6 hanjas, means either beautiful or something else. And idols having bunny related traits (personality or physical traits) is quite popular within Kpop communities. I still think the name fits. Sure, it can be double beauty. But, hey, Nayeon is a beauty due to her pure soul and because of her friendlieness. It's like finding a nice flower growing in a harsh environment. So, even if Nayeon did not mean "Cute Bunny", I think the name is cute regardless.

Something I did while I was waiting for class.

I don’t know if she would be a new character of mine. But if she was, she would be working as an archivist or doing something based around culture. Idk. She isn’t a character I would place in OFP since she wouldn’t be a solider. She would have been exempted.

The quality came out a bit wonky

#That would be an interesting take for her character #Ohh so you would have added some references to a ship?#I think you made the right call #As much as I like that ship #it would have taken away a bit of the story in my opinion #Would be especially nice to see Nayeon's perspective #And Tokgasi as well since I don't know much about them #The name for the ermine nurse is pure genius #You once again impressed me with how well thought out you are with your stories and characters #And don't apologize for rambling!#Ramble as much as you want #If you ever stop I think the whole fandom will be concerned for you #And no don't tone it down unless you want to #We all apperciate your ramblings and inputs!#Also need to thank you for saving me from boredom back in 2023 #I read your fanfic the entire time I was in Mexico #Three chapters even got published when I was in a hotel by the border (US side)

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thelassoway · 1 year ago

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Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso Seasons 1-3 » T-shirts

#Ted Lasso #Theodore Lasso #Jason Sudeikis #*mine: gif #tedlassoedit #ugh you idiot with that face #stop staring at me swan #I think I got all the T-shirt moments for Ted. Can you guess the two scenes I forgot and had to go back and add???#I've also kept these in order of season/episode appearance and it feels kind of telling #not quite sure how I'm feeling about these and how they turned out #these are all from 2160p video files (I've only worked with 2160 one other time) and the timing of these frames looks off #I did my best to fix and readjust them #to the 5 to 8 people that read these tags let me know if I should keep trying/working with 2160p or just stick with 1080p #can we see a major difference in the image quality? I'm using all my same edit settings here #@chainofclovers I saw your tags about the black Joe Arthur shirt I was/have been thinking the same thing #I'm glad I got my o.g. laptop to power up to finish this gifset (definitely a power button issue)#will I ever make that mirror gifset idea??? probably not but I got a couple of mirror moments here #I almost used the other mirror moment from episode 7 but I wanted a different angle/view #this gifset could've been a lot more of Ted in bed wearing T-shirts tbh #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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ominousvibez · 3 months ago

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Okay I'm still thinking about the Amity Park in Ohio thing so here's my proposal for this idea:

Reasons That Amity Park Should Be in Ohio (By Someone Who's Lived In Ohio For 2+ Years)

#1 It's Definitely A Great Lake State

Amity Park has never been stated to be officially in one specific state, just vaguely central United States, possibly somewhere around the Great Lakes area. That specific area is often referenced by other characters in the show. Urban Jungle shows Undergrowth's roots stretching out from this general area, and the Lake Eerie mentioned in the show might just literally be Lake Erie.

Of course it's kinda cartoony and I honestly have no idea if those mountains in the bottom right corner are meant to be the Appalachia area or not but it vaugely looks like the Great Lakes area

Because of this screenshot, I think most of the fandom headcanons Amity Park to be somewhere in Illinois, possibly close to Chicago, but we can basically point at any Great Lakes state and say "yeah that fits".

For my non-American friends, it's this general area of America (specifically Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio)

But I'd also like to say that cartoons do have a tendency to fudge some details about geography (or completely change the states a la Steven Universe) so the map might not be 100% accurate. But with the map, it could technically be any Great Lakes State, so why not OHIO?

Which btw I'm going to be counting as a Midwest state for this analysis. Some people can argue it isn't, but from my experience living here in Ohio there are a lot of Midwestern tendencies. It's more like Ohio is the border state between the Eastern states and the Midwest, so it gets a mix of both.

B*tch H*rtman (as much as we don't like to talk about him) was also born in Michigan, which is a state in the Midwest, so some of Amity Park could be based (consciously or not) on the towns he grew up in there. But because of him I'm ruling out Michigan the state as a whole and Wisconsin for states Amity Park could be in.

#2 It Takes Four Days To Get To Wisconsin, Apparently?

In Season 1, Episode 7, when they travel to Vlad's mansion in Wisconsin, Jazz says it will take "four days" to get from Amity Park to Vlad's Mansion (Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin, basically). The geography is a little off for every midwestern/Great Lakes state except maybe New York if you're gonna count that but Amity Park does not feel like it'd be in New York state.

Ohio is the furthest Midwest Great Lakes state from Wisconsin. Case closed there. Of course, it doesn't take four days to get from Ohio to Wisconsin. It can roughly vary from 10 to 15 hours, depending on route options (such as avoiding highways and stuff), but still.

It's a road trip, so it makes more sense that they'd take longer to get there-- plus realistically people don't tend to drive 10 hours on a road trip, they probably stopped through the trip and spent the night in their RV.

#3 They Got Beaches?

Amity Park does exist near a body of water. It isn't clear if it's a lake, river, or ocean in the show. It could be a lake. There's also the area in Frightmare, where Nocturne literally takes up space in some sort of port building/factory that gives the audience the assumption that it's on a pier/port. So they're really next to a body of water.

There is also the summer camp that Danny and his friends attend in Claw of the Wild which is said to be on Lake "Eerie". Which could easily just be Lake Erie, the lake that Ohio is on.

Also Camp Skull and Crossbones?? What an iconic camp name. You could say the name is pretty,,,,,, camp (ba dum tss).

#4 Ohio's Just Like... Very Haunted

Ohio has kinda become a meme recently. Not just one specific part of Ohio, but the entire state. The memes are mostly good fun-- like how the state is mostly just corn -- but I think some of the ~vibes~ of Ohio just fit right.

Like, there's no definite way to say which U.S. State is the most haunted (I think either the New England area or maybe Louisiana could take the #1 spot) but Ohio is definitely something else. Of course, we have the baby bridges and the haunted penitentiaries like Ohio State Penitentiary, but there are some interesting places that could be played with, too.

For one, there's an entire abandoned town called Helltown, Ohio, where rumors are cultists perform Satantic rituals, mutant creatures roaming the city created by an oil spill, and even a giant snake? There's also a place literally called the Gateway to Hell, too, which is right behind a Tim Horton's (oddly fitting).

Bobby Mackey's is also in Ohio! If you've ever seen Buzzfeed Unsolved, you know what I'm talking about.

There are also less hell-related spooky things in Ohio. Like, Lake Erie has its own Monster! We call her Bessie. Danny could definitely befriend Bessie!!!

#5 It'd Be Funny

It'd be funny for Amity Park to be in Ohio. The Most Haunted Place in America to be in Ohio is just kinda funny. With how "cursed" of a reputation Ohio seems to have in a larger cultural context, doesn't it kinda just fit?

TLDR:

Ohio is a very cursed state, has a lot of supernatural lore to it, and I think Amity Park would fit in both thematically and almost geographically. Of course, other Midwestern States like Illinois do fit the bill, too, in this argument. But I am a firm "Amity Park is in Ohio" supporter.

#danny phantom #dp #ominous writing #kinda?? i guess????#analysis #ominous posts #all my DP fics are now set in ohio #i'd honestly put amity park to be central ohio just based off vibes but for some reason they're like next to a huge lake/body of water??#so i guess somewhere on the lake. maybe between cleveland and toledo #again i've only been here for two years. so keep that in mind #Amity Park could also be by a river but being by a lake makes more sense to me. idk #also let me know if i should add a read more to this it feels kinda long

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vaguely-concerned · 4 months ago

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just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

#'you don't know my mother' haunting me through the years #dragon age #dragon age 2 #hawke #On second thought let's not go to Kirkwall; it is a silly place #there are of course as many ways to do/read that relationship as there are players to interact with it haha and all valid!#but my personal version of handers is sooo fucked up and bad times for everyone involved and I love it haha.#this is a relationship neither of them should have been in and that made everything worse and everyone unhappy in the end #locked tomb levels of the horrors of love. i ship it but in the way that I want to make it sadder and more gutwrenching each time #to be clear this is a very mutual two-way kind of fucked up but I think varric in his loyalty and love would downplay hawke's side of it #for huge swathes of their relationship anders is not in a mental place to be a good partner and the emotional blackmail is Not Okay #(but it's just like how mother used to make it! hawke's soul cries sadly as it reaches for it hungrily)#which is in some ways fair enough no one could accuse him of not warning you ahead of time fjskda #but hawke is messy about it in a way only available to a covert people pleaser who has never had a millisecond of therapy #with some added stuff that my hawke is always acespec in some form and when he gets together with anders...#is the sex something he doesn't particularly care to have or not have but it 'makes anders happy'/he longs to feel wanted *and* needed #and also a way he gets out of ever being *actually* vulnerable (which I think he'd had to be with varric for example if he Went There )#'you want the hawke who's in your head so badly and I kind of wish I were that hawke too. so let's be collaborateurs with that fantasy'#(and then maybe if I do it right every time you'll finally be happy hawke says in his heart looking at this leandra-anders phantom form)#(and echoing stuff in varric's relationship to hawke but I think the important distinction there is that varric -- is a craftsman haha #he KNOWS when he's lying/making up a story he KNOWS the difference between what is and what he wishes the world was #(I think there's some deep longing there to not know; for it to blend together or have the power to change things. but he always knows)#which ironically leaves him in a better position to actually see and understand hawke the person #even as he is creating hawke the literary figure. almost to protect him in some ways? god da2 is so full of STUFF!!! I adore it)#and of course anders gets so disillusioned with hawke's inertia and lack of action (you all but married this man anders!#you should know this about him he's already carrying the whole family and city on his shoulders if you add a gram more he'll collapse!)#and hawke feels so desperately hurt that the promise anders seemed to make that he'd be enough -- that he could fix things for him --#('I'm the one bright light in kirkwall and that apparently doesn't count for shit so I'm just slowly turning to ash for you')#turned out to be untrue. anyway. sad now. imagine them meeting like twenty years on what the fuck could you even say to each other then #(I can't imagine Hawke ever physically hurting anyone he loves so he just tells Anders to leave at the end of DA2. they COULD meet again

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melancholic-pigeon · 4 months ago

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Okay this is the *actual* last comment, for real, but I just found out Spider is now smearing me as a convert and accusing me of being involved with drama I was not involved with because he mistakenly attributed my apologies for his public temper tantrum as being about something unrelated.

THIS IS A FALSE ACCUSATION and I do not appreciate having yet another bit of fake malicious intent falsely ascribed to my actions and* attributing a completely unrelated attack to me.

Also, it's very sad and disappointing whenever a Jew gets mad at a convert because something else is going on in the Jew's life and the convert happens to be in the splash zone and the Jew falls over backwards to smear the convert and invalidate her faith.

Just....the childish aggression is making me so, so sad and disappointed, from someone I used to think very highly of, who is now lying about me and publicly smearing me with false accusations based on a conflict he started because he misinterpreted something I said and I went out of my way to give him the benefit of the doubt when trying to clear up the mistake HE MADE that led him to decide bullying and attacking me for three fucking days was appropriate and okay and that I'm the bad guy for saying it's wildly unprofessional to behave like this in public to a former customer face.

Sorry, but facts, reality, linear time and the truth of what I actually said and did are on my side here, and I will not stand for being smeared and attacked and shat all over because I had the gall to try to kindly resolve his uncalled for, unjustified temper tantrum.

I am also not sorry that I left a side note in the tags that it was also unacceptable for HIM to drag his daughter into a stupid internet slapfight based on his own reading comprehension failure. Because it was and is unacceptable, and she needs to hear that message from someone.

End of story. Keep digging that hole as long as you like, Spider. It's not helping your case and is continuing to make you look progressively worse and more unreasonable, and the only person you have to blame is yourself.

youtube

*revised for clarity

#don't buy from nerdykeppie #all receipts are under this tag #if you're so offended because my reporting on the things you say and do makes you look bad maybe the problem is you #this whole thing was completely needless #and yet he is continuing to DARVO me because he's pissed that his usual method of smugly lashing out at people over their poor reading #comprehension doesn't work when it's him who failed to comprehend what I wrote in the first place #also REAL FUCKING INCHRESTING that he's lying about me being involved in the jewvestigation of him so he responds by......jewvestigating me #lol #lashon hara. maybe he should study it sometime.#and maybe he'll learn warning others about poor behavior from a business so they don't waste their money there is not lashon hara #but honestly I doubt it because he's never going to let go of his desperate complex about always being the smartest raddest dude in the roo #it looks pathetic and I think he realizes that or he wouldn't have had such a dramatic extended meltdown over the things *he* said to *me*#I also still find it funny that he has conveniently forgotten to address the whole “hey bud your timeline doesn't add up” part #and I think that's because he knows if he were to address the proof that he didn't remember it correctly he would be forced to admit that h #threw a massive shitfit at someone for no reason because his memory got mixed up #so so funny that he can't come up with an answer for that #almost like! he knows he fucked up bigtime and is scrambling to make himself the victim!#also funny that “worrying about someone who was dragged into a fight by a bully” got twisted into sneakily scheming to turn her against him #I'm not a scheming plotter I'm worried because the behavior you showed your child in public was wildly inappropriate TO HER.#it's sad! It's fucking sad and embarrassing and hypocritical and immature and SAD!#but the pretend me other people are attacking because they made shit up is none of my business #if he wants to keep writing fanfic about me he can go right ahead #because again #the more he talks the worse he looks #the more he digs this hole the deeper he gets mired in his own muck #and it's not my job to bend over backwards to keep him from experiencing the natural consequences of his actions.#I really should learn the lesson that people who are snide assholes in one situation are usually snide assholes across the board #really the worst part is knowing I defended him when he threw tantrums like this before #that's what I regret and feel guilty about: that I backed up his shitty behavior and gave it legitimacuy #that was wrong of me and I'm sorry for every time I jumped in as one of his flying monkeys

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running-in-the-dark · 3 months ago

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my niece stayed with us last night. it was pretty fun this time, probably because I was feeling better (if I'm already in pain or exhausted, I can't handle it). after we dropped her off, we talked to my mother for a little bit, and then drove to my in-laws. we were there for a few hours and because the guys were busy outside, i ended up talking to my mother-in-law for most of that time. it was... kind of good? I don't know. she actually showed some real emotions, just a little bit, but hey that's more than ever before! I even gave her a weird little shoulder squeeze/side hug, it was so weird.

anyway, I almost fell asleep in the car on the way home because I was so tired, and actually did fall asleep immediately on the couch.

#it's pretty annoying because my mother-in-law of course asked me how applying for jobs is going. I haven't applied for a single one yet #bc dude I can barely get through the day. I sleep for 12-16 hours a day. and I'm almost always in some kind of pain. and I'm not doing so #good mentally either. come on! I interacted with a handful of people in one day and had to sleep for like 6 hours.#anyway so I said it's a bit difficult because I'm constantly tired - it felt like the only thing she might kind of understand?#annnd she said its probably a vitamin D deficiency and I should get that tested (I won't because I'd have to pay for that and also I think I #read that taking vitamin D supplements doesn't actually help? I can't remember now and I don't want to look it up bc I know it definitely is #not the only or even main reason I am always tired.#I took vitamin D tablets for several months last year (?) bc my previous GP recommended it and. it did absolutely nothing at all #plus. like. I can't sleep. I sleep like shit. always. so. idk? that definitely doesn't help #and I sleep more when I'm in pain and all that too. so.#and she knows I have a bunch of health issues but. nope it's vitamin D because that's one thing and it's simple and here take a pill you're #fine now! wait why aren't you fine now? oh I guess you're just lazy 🙄#< that's 100% how that would go #ugh. Just let me sleep for 5-10 years. maybe that'd fix me....#like. I'm trying to get myself back (?) to being an actual human person again. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with me. I'm trying to #live and not feel like I'm drowning every fucking day #finding a job is only gonna add more stress and exhaustion and everything. if I want to try to help myself this is the time to do it #okay rant over I'm going to sleep now #personal

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yoohyeon · 1 year ago

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Saw that the Tumblr icon on my iPad changed so I went to see what’s up and WE FINALLY CAN REPLY WITH THE BLOG WE WANT !!! THANK YOU !!! Now staff make it so when you block someone it’s block on all sb too thanks I’m tired of blocking 3 times

#I’m tired of forgetting to add this is blah blah main when someone somment something on my sideblog 😭#my phone is sadly too full for the update but at least my iPad is ! I’ll answer on it when someone comment ckdnjdnd #now I’m leaving again !#oh I should update that my mom recognized she fucked up (will she learn a lesson though? only time we’ll tell us)#so she apologize my dad didn’t care but he went to get her at work today and they’ve been talking like nothing happen #since they had to go grocery shopping cause the fridge was empty #idk if they talked or they just decided it was better to not say anything and fight again #so I’m happy again don’t wanna d*e anymore until I look for job at least fkdndjdn #which is what I should do but I’m ignoring my problems reading ncjdndjnd #i waited at least today see if my parents were still on the verge of divorcing or not and they seem okay so I guess i’ll check 🙄#pray that I found something nice 😭#I’m tempted to find something that maybe I could work 4 days a week and not 5 but I’ll never find that #cause honestly I only pay for my phone and Sowon food + litter (and vet if needed) I don’t need that much #I did promise them I would pay for Puppy’s pills if I work though cause it’s like 200$ maybe less maybe more even I can’t remember a month #my mom is struggling bad since he got those pills it’s a lot for her small salary #I’m so lucky that my parents let me be even if they struggle but I feel so bad I need to get diagnose soon cause I’m difinetely anxious #and it’s ruining my life #also had to get check for ADHD and Autism words from my doctor for the ladder I’m personally not sure ? everyone tells me no #but those people knows nothing about autism they only person that says there’s ‘’high chance’#is bestie and she study in psychology a little for her field so I trust her judgement way more ! but maybe it’s just a mix of the other 2 #that make it seem like I may who knows one day we’ll have the answers #okay I’m talking to much now I’ll go don’t know if I’ll come back soon but at least I wanted to tell you I felt better !#we are back at the normal worries only 🤪#alex.txt

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vettelsvee · 18 days ago

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SÍ... ESTAMOS SALIENDO | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Pérez!Reader

SUMMARY: Scared of everyone to find out, Y/N Pérez and Oscar Piastri decide to hide their relationship from everyone until Checo starts wondering how Piastri learnt to speak Spanish so good... and specially why he has a Mexican accent ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Maybe one were she is checos daughter and they hide their relationship from him. And also maybe she teaches oscar some Spanish. At the end they end up telling checo about their relationship

WORD COUNT: 2399

WARNINGS: Use of Spanish. Important to say that even Spanish is my mother tongue, I may have some mistakes because it is Mexican Spanish and I don't know much about it, so I had to do some research. Otherwise, mentions of unwanted pregnancy, unprotected sex, drugs and alcohol

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @gwginnyweasley @formula1-motogpfan @myescapefromthislife @regalbanshee [in case you wanna be tagged just tell me so i can add you!]

VEE'S NOTES: Not writing related but I’m obsessed with a K-Drama I started watching yesterday and I just wanna write Come What May series since the main characters’ personalities are the same as Seb and Y/N (Di in case you read the OC Version) there lmao. Anyways, missed a lot writing about Oscar (I definitely will be writing about him more as he's my second fave on the current grid) and this one got me so happy with how it turned out! Hope you like it as well, and remember that I'd love to see your comments <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | LET'S TALK! | JANUARY UPDATE CALENDAR

“What if you taught me some Spanish?”

“Sorry, what did you just say?”

“That's it, Y/N. Teach me some Spanish.”

You, completely absorbed in looking at the pictures you had taken during the date you had with your boyfriend that same day, lifted your gaze from your phone and raised an eyebrow, fully taken aback by Oscar's proposal.

“Spanish? You? You already speak English! English is the only language that matters to you all…”

Oscar shrugged, nervously playing with the steering wheel. At that moment, he reconsidered what he had said, unsure now, and realized that maybe it had been a somewhat strange proposal on his part.

“I just want to understand you when you talk to your dad or your family. I know no one knows we’re together yet, but sometimes when you do video calls with them, I feel a bit lost. I also feel like sometimes you talk about me, and I’d like to know if I should worry,” he confessed, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“And why do you assume we talk about you, huh?”

“Well, because you always look at me out of the corner of your eye when you do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how cute he looked with that unnecessary concern.

“Why do you have to be so chismoso?” You said, making Oscar give you a little tap on the shoulder. That just made you laugh more. “Alright, alright, fine! But I warn you in advance: if you laugh at me speaking Spanish or don’t take me seriously, I’ll break up with you.”

What started as a completely random proposal, with little prospect of a future or sense at first, eventually became one of your favorite routines. You took advantage of every moment together to practice, always hiding it from Checo or any member of the Pérez family when you were in the paddock. Moreover, whenever you were in your respective countries, you would watch Mexican movies and TV shows, and also some in their original version with English subtitles. You even started sending each other the occasional message in Spanish, thanks to the Australian’s initiative.

Oscar seemed to have, in your eyes, a natural talent for languages. Not only did he manage to learn greetings and basic words in less than a week, but after a month, he was already making the effort to use your Mexican accent and even incorporating words that seemed exclusive to your family’s vocabulary.

And that was exactly what, a few months later, turned into a real nightmare for the secrecy with which you kept your relationship.

While no one knew you were together as a couple, Oscar and you pretended to be just friends when you were in public. That’s why it was completely normal for Checo Pérez to see his daughter with the Australian, having coffee and chatting animatedly after a press conference.

“¡Buenos días, Checo!” Oscar said in almost perfect Spanish. “¿Cómo va, papá?”

You, hearing that last word, spat out the little coffee you had left in your mouth and opened your eyes, completely surprised. Checo, however, made a face and a frown, questioning his daughter’s friend.

“What did you say?” You asked, though you knew perfectly well that what your boyfriend had just said was something you hadn’t taught him, and he’d probably heard it from you.

“Well… ¿Cómo va, papá?” the guy repeated innocently. “Did I say it right?”

“Papá?” repeated the Red Bull driver, even more shocked. “Do you even know what that means, kid?”

“It’s an expression, right? Isn’t it like saying buddy?”

Checo stared at him for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Oscar. Then, he turned his gaze to you, who was pretending to fiddle with your phone to avoid having to face an awkward conversation about why your secret boyfriend had just said that.

“¿Te importaría decirme por qué Oscar habla como tú?” Pérez asked quickly in Spanish, clearly aiming for Oscar not to understand.

“He doesn’t talk like me!” You quickly replied in English. “Oscar has been practicing Spanish, and well… he wants to fit in better so he’s trying. Duolingo isn’t the best app for learning, so he’s been watching YouTube videos... Right, Osc?”

The guy nodded, but that didn’t convince Checo. Still, he didn’t say anything else and, instead, coldly said goodbye to you both.

As soon as he was far enough away not to hear you, you turned to Oscar and started shaking him:

“Of all the things you could say, you call him papá?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, babe!” He rushed to reply, feeling bad for you. “I’ve heard it so many times that, well… I just said it without thinking. I honestly didn’t think it was anything bad.”

You huffed, knowing that it wasn’t Oscar’s fault or his curiosity and interest in learning your mother tongue, but yours for not setting boundaries or explaining the meaning of each word, as well as the context in which it should be used or who it was addressed to.

From that moment on, your father started paying more attention. He was an expert in discretion, but you knew him well enough to realize that, since the incident with Oscar, he had become much more alert and interested in you both, especially looking for clear signs that would confirm his suspicions that his daughter was dating one of the newest additions to the grid.

Unfortunately for you and Oscar, the Mexican didn’t need to investigate much, and he only did so for a month to confirm his theories.

During one of the briefings with all the drivers, Checo heard Oscar mumbling an “Órale, wey” followed by some insults in Spanish that you had made up when it had gotten pretty late and everyone was eager to return to their hotel. Also, instead of saying “sorry,” he let out a “¿mande?” which wouldn’t have been strange if he hadn’t continued speaking in English, as if nothing had happened.

You and Oscar seemed unaware of all your slip-ups; on the contrary, feeling like you weren’t arousing anyone’s suspicion, you lowered your guard. Displays of affection in public, though still cautious, became more frequent, especially when Checo wasn’t near you. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

The back of the McLaren garage, just a few meters away from Red Bull’s, as expected, wasn’t the most suitable place.

“We should go somewhere else,” you said softly while nervously fiddling with the collar of your boyfriend's shirt, who had his arm around your waist.

“Why? This place is perfect,” Oscar replied, unconcerned.

“Yeah, sure, perfect for my dad to catch us,” you muttered. “If he already suspects and looks like that doll from the red light, green light game on Squid Game, analyzing us so much to jump on us as soon as he catches us… imagine if he finds us. He’ll kill us, I swear.”

“Come on, Y/N, just try to relax. We’ve got it all under control. Seriously, there’s nothing to worry about, mi amor.”

You blushed at the compliment he had given you in Spanish, and couldn’t help but plant a chaste kiss on his lips, even though everything inside you felt chaotic.

“If you’re trying to convince me that everything’s fine by speaking to me in Spanish, just know that you’re doing it perfectly,” you declared. “But don’t forget, that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a tremendous anxiety and keep thinking that we’re literally one step away from getting caught. Do you know what he could do if he finds out that you and I… that?” You asked hesitantly.

“Is he going to give us a lecture on how we have to stay professional whenever we’re in public? Or is he going to tell me he’ll kill me if I even think about getting you pregnant?”

“He’ll probably make you come home to have lunch with my family and only speak Spanish,” you tried not to laugh but couldn’t help yourself. “And trust me, you don’t want to be in that position because you’ll have all my aunts, and there are quite a few of them, right next to you, asking you some very uncomfortable questions.”

“Then we’ll have to tell him as soon as possible so he can prepare. How about I tell him that I’m absolutely and completely in love with his daughter?”

You shot him a glare, panic flooding your insides at the thought of that happening.

“No, don’t you dare do that, Osc, and especially not here. You have no idea how my dad would react if…”

“Why not?” He interrupted. Then, he stopped, and after a few seconds that felt like an eternity to you, he seemed to finally find the courage to speak: “I could tell him something like… ¡Señor Pérez, estoy saliendo con su hija porque además de ser la mejor mujer de este mundo, me hace la persona más feliz del mundo!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, filled with emotion inside at Oscar’s sweet yet innocent declaration of love aloud.

However, a cough behind you made you snap back to reality.

“Can I know what you’re doing with my daughter, Piastri?”

You both slowly turned around. There, standing before you, was Checo, arms crossed, with a very unfriendly look on his face. You swore that if Oscar walked out of there alive and without a reprimand from your overprotective father, he could do whatever he wanted for the rest of the year.

“Well…” Oscar began, his confidence suddenly disappearing.

“Esto no es lo que parece, te lo juro,” you said in Spanish, trying to calm your father, even though you knew your attempts would be in vain.

“Oh, really?” Checo asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing you were both lying. “Then, what explanation do you have for this kid shouting to the four winds in almost perfect Spanish that he’s in love with you? At least that’s what I understood, if my Spanish doesn’t fail me.”

You were about to reply, but instead, Oscar gently took you by the wrist and stepped forward, surprisingly confident.

“Checo, I’m not playing around. Okay, I was joking about that, but not about what it means… like…” Piastri explained slowly, nerves eating at him as he couldn’t bring himself to look Checo in the face. “Your daughter matters to me, well, like… you know, like a boyfriend cares for his girlfriend.”

Checo tried not to laugh at the declaration of love from the man who had just confirmed he was his son-in-law and did his best to maintain the protective fatherly composure, thinking no guy would ever be good enough for his daughter.

“So you care about my daughter… You, one of my coworkers, a twenty-three-year-old kid, care about my eldest daughter enough to believe you can have a relationship with her…”

“It’s not that I believe it, it’s that I know I do.”

Not only you and Checo were surprised by the boy’s words, but Oscar himself too. He regretted it immediately, but before he could apologize to Checo, the man stepped forward, raising a hand and staring at him:

“So… are you two dating or not?”

“Yes, for almost six months now,” you answered, feeling a knot in your stomach, but much less pressure now that your father knew the truth.

Checo sighed, running a hand over his face as he tried to process the news his daughter, his little girl, had just told him. The girl he knew ever since she was born and now he had to imagine her spending, if not the rest of her life, at least part of it, with another man.

“And why didn’t you tell me before?” Checo asked, his voice tinged with disappointment but also some understanding. “Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I knew you would react badly,” you answered, frustrated. “I trust you, and I know you want to protect me from any guy who could make me feel bad, but you have to understand that I’m twenty years old, and whether you like it or not, I’m not a little girl anymore.”

Checo looked at you and then turned his gaze to Oscar, who had his head down. Besides his nerves being pretty evident, so was his willingness to face any kind of dispute or reprimand from him just to stay with you.

That made Checo feel a bit bad, though it also gave him some relief seeing that the Australian was truly concerned and, why not say it, in love, willing to do anything for his little Y/N.

Finally, he let out a small sigh, trying to calm himself. He repeated your words over and over in his mind before saying anything else because if you had never disappointed him in your life, then he didn’t want to disappoint you just because you were in love.

I’m not a little girl anymore.

“Checo…” Piastri spoke, but Checo raised a finger, silencing him instantly.

“I’m only going to say this once: you better not hurt my daughter, or I’ll hurt you when I kick you off the track or crash into you accidentally. Is that clear?”

Oscar swallowed hard, feeling that Checo wasn’t joking.

“Understood…”

“And as for you,” Checo now spoke to you, completely stunned, “don’t think this is over. Your mother, you, and I will have a conversation about this and several other topics when we get home.”

Unprotected wild sex, alcohol, and drugs, for sure, you thought, forcing a smile to try to hide your worry.

“Now go on and keep loving each other, but be careful where and how you do it. I don’t want to be a grandfather just yet.”

With those words, Checo left, leaving you both.

“Well… now he knows. Finally,” Oscar said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I told you he was intense. Do you believe me now?”

“Of course, mi amor,” the Australian replied, taking your hand and heading to your room in the McLaren motorhome, so, as Checo had said, you wouldn’t become grandparents just yet. “Your dad scared me, but I’m not going to lie to you, he gave me enough motivation to beat him in every race from now on.”

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flowersforbucky · 3 months ago

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devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

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