#also. thank you so much for this ask this was sooooooooo much fun to write out. we are analyzing themes babeeeeee

[atopvisenyashill]

connections between naerys and sansa?

There’s plenty! She’s very much in a Naerys/Aegon scenario in ASOS & ACOK, where she has no ability to leave the capital, no one doing anything meaningful to protect her, and a King that is obsessed with sexually humiliating her. There’s a lot of romanticism and chivalry surrounding her character and how other people react to her character, the same as Naerys.

But also, Sansa makes the comparisons to Naerys herself, and she does it before she realizes what kind of person Joffrey is! In fact, it starts with her very first chapter where she compares Joffrey interrupting Ilyn Payne & Sandor Clegane to Aemon demanding a trial by combat against Ser Morgil:

A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

She will compare Joffrey to Aemon and herself to Naerys again later, to Ned:

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

(lowkey she’s so fucking funny for that “i only just now remembered” comment, idk how ned kept a straight face for it)

She then uses Aemon (and the Cargyll twins) to make Tommen feel better and dunk on Joffrey:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry." "Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." "Be quiet, or I'll have Ser Meryn give you a mortal wound," Joffrey told his betrothed.

Again, there’s a focus on Aemon’s romantic relationship with Naerys because that's what appeals to Sansa. But when people say "Sansa sees the world through stories" it's not just about how she romanticizes or idolizes knighthood, nobility, and chivalry - she thinks through information by comparing it with similar historical events or stories and analyzing it. She clearly sees the problem with Loras protecting Margaery from Joffrey by comparing him to the Toynes instead of Aemon, and Joffrey (once again) to Aegon the Unworthy:

She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her . . . and yet, her doubts still gnawed at her. Ser Loras was a great knight, all agreed. But Joffrey had other Kingsguard, and gold cloaks and red cloaks besides, and when he was older he would command armies of his own. Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads. Ser Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, no way to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red.

She’s also not wrong in her assessment here because the Tyrells (my guess is Garlan and Olenna) are so worried about this outcome they just murder Joffrey and install Tommen; like Bethany Bracken, Margaery is groomed (with all the implications that are included in such a loaded term) to be sexually available to the King because her father wants power and doesn't care if his daughter is sexually abused to get it. Like Terrance Toyne, Loras is considered attractive, skilled, and has several brothers more than willing to start a war to avenge his death. I think it's incredibly intuitive that Sansa ultimately comes to the same conclusion as two seasoned political players like (presumably) Olenna and Garlan come to, and she makes this judgement call very quickly!

And Sansa also hits on a lot of (correct) similarities when she makes these comparisons between Joffrey's court and Aegon the Unworthy's court; Aegon and Joffrey both have wild, violent temperaments while being notoriously difficult to control. It’s not just Naerys that attempts to get Aegon to stop marital raping her; Aemon’s useless tears aside, Viserys does do the bare minimum here in sending Aegon away so Naerys can heal from her miscarriages, Daeron got shitty with the Brackens about being tacky over Naerys' marital rape and ill health, Baelor fasts himself to death over Naerys’ miscarriages, etc etc. All of the “authority figures” around Aegon think his behavior is wrong but Aegon proves stubbornly difficult to control or kill. Joffrey falls along these same lines - Cersei, Robert, Tyrion, Tywin, and even Varys all struggle to get some control over Joffrey but like Aegon, he knows once he’s of age and has that crown he doesn’t have to answer for SHIT and stubbornly resists every attempt to curb his behavior. Joffrey is a hell scenario waiting to happen because like Aegon, he’s petty and petulant enough to pull the stunts Aegon pulls like pitting his true born kids against his bastard born ones and causing another violent succession crisis. I say this as like, the ultimate Joffrey Apologist here, lmaooo, he has reasons for being a nasty piece of shit but the Tyrells are right to look at him and go “oh that’s trouble” because he is a ticking time bomb. And the crazy thing is, it’s not just Sansa who compares Joffrey to Aegon the Unworthy:

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it." Sansa shook her head. "He won't." "He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

Joffrey makes the comparison himself. He's a piece of work just like his hero and he is directly threatening to rape Sansa the same way Aegon raped Naerys and poor Bethany Bracken. He is directly admitting he is "unworthy" and practically daring all of KL to overthrow him for it because he thinks they'll blink before he does (and he is unfortunately deadly wrong in this assumption).

And when you extrapolate out from there, you can see other, similar patterns between Naerys' life and Sansa's, beyond the Joffrey-Aegon, Margaery-Bethany, Loras-Terrance, and Sansa-Naerys parallels. Tyrion himself aspires to be a sort of Viserys II type player (see: "It should have been called the Lives of Five Kings" rant he gives to Oberyn); a power behind the throne directing his crazy family to do what's right or smart or proper. There's an interesting echo in Viserys taking direct action in sending Aegon away from Naerys and Tyrion stopping Joffrey in his assault of Sansa - like Viserys, he can see the monster in the king he is raising, makes an attempt to stop it, but fails because he underestimates just how dangerous and erratic his little king has become. Like Viserys, Tyrion is suspected of poisoning his own nephew in an attempt to get closer to power and the throne (and Viserys, like Tyrion, is probably innocent - the sort of fasting that Baelor was doing regularly is hard on the body!).

I don't think any of this is coincidental or accidental either, because of that haunting scene where Joffrey destroys the gift Tyrion got him. Here's the scene, excuse the wall of text, but it's important:

He plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. "Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good," her small husband answered. "A book every king should read, Your Grace," said Ser Kevan. “My father had no time for books.” Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. “If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.” He laughed … and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. “Don’t be sad, Sansa, once I’ve gotten Queen Margaery with child I’ll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it’s done.” Sansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words... [Joffrey gets a Valyrian sword and figures out a name for it, Widow's Wail, it's a few pages, it's not relevant here] Joffrey brought Widow’s Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. “Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.” It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, “I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.” “See that you never give me cause, ser.” Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow’s Wail back into its scabbard. “Your Grace,” Ser Garlan Tyrell said. “Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth’s own hand.” “Now there are three.” Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. “You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.”

God I love that passage so much. There's a lot there but what's relevant is a) both Oberyn and Garlan are trying to get a measure of who Joffrey is, and have some child murdering plans potentially in the works during this scene. Watching Joffrey destroy a priceless tome of history given as a well thought, well meant, incredibly generous (and pointed) gift from his uncle is more than enough proof for either man to decide Joffrey is not worth the headache, and please note Garlan is the only person to call Joffrey out to his face, and Oberyn is a few pages later the only person to acknowledge this was a fantastic and kind gift from Tyrion that Joffrey reacted absolutely deranged towards for no reason. and b) Tyrion is almost literally saying to Joffrey "I can be your Viserys, I can make it so you're remembered as a great king the way Daeron II or Baelor are, or a great warrior like Daeron I, but you have to understand the reason why I'm worried about your behavior" and Joffrey does the most destructive, unworthy thing he can possibly do - he quite literally destroys priceless, useful historical knowledge and wisdom with his bare hands, in favor of senseless, petulant violence. As Catelyn would say, Joffrey's real bride is not Margaery, but the war he's fighting and the crown on his head.

All of this to say - there's a lot of parallels between Sansa's situation in KL and Naery's life and these parallels are drawn not only by Sansa herself, but also by several people around her. However, I hope for better things for Sansa than what poor Naerys got - I hope for an Aemon the Dragonknight that will do more than just cry while she's raped, but actually step into that room and defend her, or else give her the power to defend herself. Despite the long wait for The Winds of Winter, I also think it's likely we will get some sort of Dragonknight, devoted sworn sword for Sansa and this person will help protect her, and Sansa will have agency that Naerys could only ever dream of.

[e-dubbc11]

you said you could be persuaded to write about dean sooooooooo what about retired dilf dean? 🤔

My dear sweet Selene, it’s very hard for me to say no to you. 🤣 I came up with a little something for DILF Dean Winchester. I hope you like it, thank you for challenging me, my lovely friend ♥️♥️♥️

Carrying On

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dad Dean Winchester x F! Reader

Warnings: Couple of swear words, fluff, mentions of readers father’s death, smooches, a little hunter violence

Word Count: 1.7K-ish

Summary: You just bought a house in a new state, trying to see if you can move on after your father’s untimely death. Your neighbor introduces himself and already you’re feeling more at home

A/N: So this is my first time writing for Dean, dear god I hope it doesn’t suck. I wanted to write more for this but I still have asks in my inbox for my sleepover I need to get to(I’m trying my hardest to answer them all, I thank you all for your patience.) I’d even be willing to do another part for this because I had fun writing this one! I hope you like it! ♥️

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The house was at the end of a nice quiet street. Your suitcases were piled high in the back seat, almost too high to see out the rear window but it wouldn’t be for much longer. It will be nice to finally stretch your legs after being in the car for such a long drive.

When you pulled into the driveway, you noticed that the “For Sale” sign had been removed from the front lawn. This was your home now and you were determined to live your life as normal as possible from now on.

After your father passed away, you left the flat lands of Oklahoma for the mountains of Colorado. There was just something about that cool mountain air. But you didn’t want to live IN the mountains, you didn’t want to be alone so moving into a neighborhood NEAR the mountains was a good compromise.

A man and, what you assumed to be, his young son were playing catch in the front yard. The boy tossed the baseball to his father but the man wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy looking at your car which happened everywhere you went.

You and your father had rebuilt that car and restored it to its former glory. It was your dream car…a 1967 Pontiac GTO in midnight blue. The way the paint reflected the light, the car almost looked purple. It was a gorgeous car.

The car in your neighbor’s driveway was impressive also. It was a 1967 Chevy Impala, black.

“DAD!! You missed!” The boy shouted.

“Hold on, son. You see that car? She must be our new neighbor. Let’s go say hello.” The man said.

Reaching for the sky, you stretched until some of the tightness in your shoulders went away. You then saw your new neighbor.

“Fuck me.” You whispered under your breath.

He was very handsome with medium brown hair, a well-groomed beard, and green eyes. As he came closer, you saw a splash of freckles across his nose and his young son was a carbon copy of his father.

You smiled warmly as they came closer.

“Hi there! I’m your new neighbor. I’m y/f/n y/l/n.”You extended your hand to shake his.

After you introduced yourself, the man had a slightly confused look on his face that quickly disappeared.

He extended his hand for you to shake. “I’m Dean and this is my son Charlie.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” You said.

Charlie interjected himself. “Dad missed the ball because he was staring at your car.”

“Charlie…” Said Dean through clenched teeth.

“Ah, well I do get that a lot. You wanna sit in it?” You asked.

Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Sure!”

You opened the car door so Charlie could sit on the driver’s side.

Dean pointed at the car. “That is a nice car. ’69?” He asked.

You bit down on your lower lip to keep from smiling. “It’s a ’67 actually, like your Impala.”

“Impressive…I don’t know a lot of women that would know that to look at it.” He said.

“Well, we do exist.” You said, a little sarcastically.

Dean smiled at you and said softly. “Yes, I guess you do.”

When he realized he was staring, he quickly snapped out of the trance he was in.

“Um, yeah so um, do you have furniture coming or anything? I’m happy to help.” He said.

“Oh the moving truck is coming tomorrow so I just have the bare essentials for tonight. Thank you for the offer, I may take you up on that.” You said.

“Well, we’ll let you get settled. Just knock when the truck comes…Charlie!! Come on, let’s let y/n settle in to her new house.” Said Dean.

As they walked away, you heard Charlie tell his dad, “Dad, you were staring at her.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “No I wasn’t…get the ball.”

“Yes you were, Dad. I saw you.” Said Charlie.

You shook your head back and forth then smiled. They both seemed really sweet.

Three Months Later

You had settled nicely into your new home. The final box had been unpacked and you were adjusting to your new surroundings and your new neighbors. Although there was something that bothered you about Dean’s house.

Every so often, not a lot but every now and again, you noticed that the basement light would flicker. It wasn’t all the time but when it did, it was always at the same time, which you thought was strange.

Everything else seemed to be fine so you didn’t look too closely at it.

You really did like Dean and you adored Charlie. They were your friends, so you contemplated, at least telling Dean about your past, how your father really died, and why you left your home state.

One Saturday morning, all of the windows were open and you could hear music coming from their house. It sounded like…Asia – Heat of the Moment.

You giggled a little bit and thought to yourself, “Really Dean, Asia?”

Dean had a deep booming voice.

“Rise and shine, Charlie!!” He said, loudly but playfully.

After doing some housework, you heard a knock on your door. Walking down the hall from the bedroom into the kitchen, you saw Dean standing at the side door through the screen. He was leaning against the door frame.

“Hey there. What can I do for ya?” You asked, opening the screen door.

“Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tonight? I thought maybe we could tell Charlie, um…well, about us.” He said, shyly.

Charlie didn’t know that about a month after you moved in, you and Dean started to hang out with each other after he went to sleep.

He’d come over for a drink, sometimes a movie, or a lot of the time, the two of you would just talk, and the relationship just sort of happened.

Charlie’s mom had passed away three years ago and it had just been the two of them since then. Obviously you weren’t trying to get in the way of their relationship and you DEFINITELY weren’t trying to replace his mom but you really did like the both of them and Charlie deserved to know the truth…they both did.

You snaked your arms around Dean’s neck, let your fingers run through his soft brown hair, and leaned in to kiss him. The bristles of his beard tickled your chin and you smiled in between his kisses. You really were smitten with him.

“I’d love to…I’ll bring you guys a special dessert.” You said.

A shy smile extended across Dean’s face. “Awesome…oh and I’m not much of a cook so I hope you’re ok with burgers. Alright? Ok, good talk.” He said, as he smacked you on the ass and turned around to walk back home.

You were going to come clean tonight.

Walking over to Dean’s, you remembered the first time you saw the last name on the mailbox…Winchester. Dean Winchester. All hunters knew that name, that family, his brother Sam, their father John, and their mother Mary.

They were famous in the world of hunting. Your family name stayed under the radar. Sure, you and your dad had some pretty big hunts and cases but nothing compared to the Winchesters.

Charlie answered when you knocked.

“Y/n!!!” He said, excitedly.

“Hey buddy!” You replied.

Charlie saw you holding the pie in your hands.

“Oh you brought Dad’s favorite.” He said.

“I did? Well I hope you guys like it, I made it from scratch.” You said.

“Dad’s always eating pie…he’s out back, come on!” He said, tugging on your t-shirt.

The three of you had a nice dinner together filled with a lot of laughs and you breathed a sigh of relief when Charlie said he was ok that you were his dad’s girlfriend.

The child like smile Dean had on his face as he was about to taste the pie made you smile. Before he could take his first bite, the lights flickered.

He looked up at the kitchen light as it continued to flicker. “Son of a bitch.” He boomed.

“Dad, language!” Shouted Charlie.

“Not now, Charlie.” He growled.

You stood up and backed away from the kitchen table. “Where’s the salt, Dean?” You asked.

“What? How do you--?” He started to say.

“The salt, Dean…NOW!!!” You shouted.

Dean got the bag of salt from underneath the kitchen sink and you had Charlie stand in an open area in the dining room, while his dad drew a salt circle around him. Then he pulled out two shotguns from underneath the couch in the living room filled with rock salt.

“Charlie…buddy, don’t move from this spot, do you understand?” You asked him, looking into his scared eyes.

He nodded.

Standing back to back, holding the shotguns, Dean asked, “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

As fast as you could, you explained yourself. “Ok, so I come from a family of hunters too, nothing like yours of course but I left Oklahoma after my father died saving me from a nest of vampires. It was just me and him, my whole life and when he died, I felt like I couldn’t hunt without him.” You said.

Low moans and hisses were emanating through the walls as the lights continued to turn on and off.

“I can’t believe you’re a hunter. That’s why when you introduced yourself, your name sounded familiar to me!” Shouted Dean.

Charlie stood petrified inside the salt circle. “Dad, what’s going on?”

“It’s alright, buddy. We’re gonna be alright.” Said Dean.

Two apparitions came through the wall and headed straight for you when you blasted them with rock salt.

“Are y-you m-mad?” You asked, while trying to catch your breath.

“Mad? I’m only mad that I didn’t get to eat my pie! As far as you being a hunter, well…I gotta say I’m a little turned on.” He said.

In the middle of a life or death situation, Dean managed to make you blush.

“What does that mean, Dad?” Asked Charlie.

In unison, you and Dean yelled, “Not now, Charlie!”

“When we’re done with this, we’re gonna have a talk.” Dean pointed his finger at you.

“But you’re not mad?” You asked with a slight smile.

Dean smiled at you, his bright green eyes looked like fresh blades of grass as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“Nah, I’m not mad sweetheart. Now let’s kill these things so I can eat my pie.”

Tagging: @munsonownsmyass @gijos

[virgin-mojitos]

STEVEN GRANT SFW ALPHABET -- PT 2

aaaaaaa part 2 is here!! terribly sorry for the delay i was a bit busy with studying for my exams, ANYWAYS! thank you so much for the people who liked part 1 i had so much fun writing these

ALSO thank for anon for sent me a message (it made me tear up dont tell anon) and i shortened this for your sake! anyways ENJOY

Gifts – What do they give you as presents? How often do they get you gifts?

“steven grant of the gift shop” I mean come on. I think hes that sort of partner (or friend) that surprises you with random gifts “HEY LOOK AT WHAT I SAW TODAY!! IT REMINDED ME OF YOU SO I GOT IT” its usually the randomst bizarre gifts and trinkets. Like you may make an offhand comment about how you genuinely thought unicorns were a real thing because you watched harry potter as a kid and it wasn’t until YEARS later when you found out that they don’t exist (SPOILER ALERT) so one day hes standing in line waiting for his morning coffee and he sees a cup that has a little unicorn on it and he INSTANTLY buys it and he would get sooOoOoOoO excited when he give it to you.

Hold – How do they hold you? Cuddling, sleeping, holding hands…

Oh steven steven steven, my little touch starved and deprived boy. When he gets comfortable around you (and you him) He. Will. Not. Let. Go. Of. You.

If he can he will hold you 24/7, but as its not possible (you try to convince him) he will pout when he has to go to work or he will definitely pout and whine when YOU get up from bed when he wants to cuddle

Okay so cuddling? Big spoon or small spoon? I think both? Like it would depend on the mood and on you really, but if hes big spoon he will stick your back to his front and put his arm under your head (although it starts to hurt after a while he literally does not care) and one hand on your boob (first couple of times hes very shy about his hand placement but by time if he gets confident he may squeeze)

BONUS: if youre touch starved but also a bit touch repulsed because past trauma (like me hello) it means the WORLD to him when you let him touch you and hes always asking for consent to make sure youre okay

Ideal – What’s their ideal date like?

Museum date ha ha.

I mean yes of course but I think dates where you get to do an activity is very fun for steven (although he does spend more than half of the date staring at you, you pretend you don’t notice)

Jealousy – Do they get jealous easily? How do they handle it?

Mmmm yes I think he does get jealous easily, but that’s due to his insecurities ingrained in him from the people around him (cough cough donna) making him feel awkward or too much or too hyper (cOuGh that cunt donna cOUgh), but definitely not because he doesn’t trust you or anything like that. He might need you to reassure him a couple of times to gain more confidence tho

I think he would come to you and white people smile (like marc in episode 3) the person whos shamelessly flirting with you and try to politely drag you away for that person (my polite boi *dreamy sigh*) if hes feeling confident

If hes feeling less confident I think he would just watch the scene from a far with sad puppy eyes and he only interferes if you are visibly uncomfortable. If not, unfortunately he will start to overthink and doubt himself (marc and jake are trying to help but they only offer umm…non civil offers) which do nothing to help his growing anxiety.

BONUS: if while talking to the person you point to steven and mouth “that’s my boyfriend right there” he will swoon (and might tear up)

Kisses – How do they like to kiss you? How frequently do you kiss?

While episode gives us a very middle school kiss from mr steven grant (it was horrible and awkward don’t try to convince me otherwise) I think by time he improves?? Like yes its still very sloppy (and sometimes its too tongey??)  but its very intense nonetheless. Hes very passionate about everything he does, and I think he can really pass his feelings for you through his kisses

I think before steven kisses you, he has to hold your face in the palm of his hands, one hand on your cheek and the other a bit far back near your neck for support (because you’re a gooey mess when steven holds you like that) and hes just. Lost in your eyes for bit, like AAAAAAA im blushing just thinking about this, but hes just looking at you like you are quite literaly the center of his universe. Just so much love and adoration and content before he finally kisses you. This happens almost every time he kisses you because hes that much of a sap.

(except of course the times where you guys are big hornballs and cant keep your hands away from teaching and just hitting every surface in the shared flat until you FINALLY get to the bed)

Love – How do they show you that they love you?

I think steven is a very verbal guy, so you can count on a lot of verbal reassurances if youre one of those people who are insecure (join the club) so yes he will tell you he loves you verbally.

Also for me, learning somebody’s mannerism and habits and finding them endearing is PEAK love for me, so knowhing how you like your coffee or tea in the morning and making it for you if youre running late or just too lazy to get out of bed, and somehow he makes it better than you ever did? What sort of sorcery is this?

REPOSTS AND LIKES HELP MY EGO THANK YOU MUAH

again if you want more of these i thoroghly enjoy writing about my boys, just tell me!

(part 3)

[aihoshiino]

okay so no idea how i should refer to myself as so: hi!! im the person who had way too much fun writing ai/nino toxic yuri on ao3! i was gonna just lurk (me, tumblr account with privated likes, reblogs and follows) BUT how could i with the promise of people being normal about fictional unhealthy gay women. idk if this is the optimal way to communicate i use tumblr with the sole purpose of following 4 people and digging up ai content

i am honestly so flattered (but also kinda upset at the lack of content on them aside from my own 1k word long oneshot please keep recommending if you find more stuff on them) that you enjoyed and recommended my fics considering i just straight up had no clue where i was going: okay so top priority i want them to kiss —> but also with how things are nino would probably lash out (read: bite) —> ai would be hesitant but also is so desperate that she’d still accept it happily —> this will fuel ninos idea of ai being the perfect, invincible idol —> and then i ran and tried not to trip with the rest

your translations of the side stories and blog was probably what helped me get in to oshi no ko again because even though i am still not over ai being dead i can now listen to someone talk about how great and tragic and sad and miserable she was along with all the other characters so thank you again!

also that ask for ai/nino toxic yuri visions was me lol, thanks for talking about my fic despite how short it was <3, i might de-anon myself at some point but rn im too shy for that

woof, this got a bit long. anyways love wins fr, if there was ever a day where i participate in an onk shipping war it’ll be on the side of them

LMFAO OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY TO HAVE JUMPSCARED YOU WITH YOUR OWN FIC 😭 WHAT A THING TO SEE ON YOUR OWN DASH....

that said it does make me so happy every time I hear people saying my relentless oshi no posting stands out to them to the degree that it does lol. I guess I'm in a similar place as you where, as happy as I am for it, it does make me a little sad that it feels like there's such little fan interest in lengthy meta and discussion on Ai herself outside of some really banal, surface level stuff. To a degree, I get that with other characters having so much more time on the page and having ongoing arcs to speculate about, but Ai is sooooooooo fascinating to me and it really drives me insane how often I see people make zero effort to engage with her arc beyond her utilitarian function in the story. It also really bums me out how often I see her get reduced to just a stepping stone in the arcs of other characters — even though the manga is literally shaking you right now and begging you to understand and empathize with her more than ever, I straight up see people cheering and crowing about Ruby 'surpassing' her or 'becoming the true Ai' as if this is a good thing and they are not completely fucking missing the point lmao.

ANYWAY!!!! That's enough grumping because the actual point of this response was to say: the Ai posting will continue until I am physically forced to stop!!!! I have so many thoughts about my wife constantly and if I do not share them I will explode!!!

(ps anon pspspspsp if you are ever feeling brave enough to unanon pls feel free to just send me your discord or your socmeds off tumblr if that is less intimidating for u.... honestly that goes for all my oshi no moots in general Please Talk With Me In DMs About My Wife)

[helaenalyst]

hi!! I'm popping over here from your comment on my fic (this is @charlottesbookclub btw – it's just not my main so I can't send asks from there 😭😭) and I simply have to say that your gwayne sketches are sooooooooo cute!!!!!!!! 🥹🥹🥰🥰 the "kiss if I win?" (he loses) is SENDING ME like I am OBSESSED!!! 💕💕💕💕

and thank you so much again for all the gwayne info you have given me!! it was such a lovely welcome into the gwayne fandom and I appreciate you so so much!! ☺️💕☺️💕

I was so devastated to see that we got like .5 seconds of him in the last episode like I need SUSTENANCE PLEASEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭

um but uh yeah I think that's all I have to say!! feel free to come scream about the special boy with me any time!! 💚💚💚💚💚

Thank you so much for sending this ask, you are so sweet 🥺🥺🥺 this motivates me so much to keep drawing him you have no idea. It was hard to get it to actually look like Gwayne in my cartoon style but I think I'm getting the gist of it so now I can just focus on drawing cute and fun moments with him!

I was devastated to see we got so little of him too! And in the ugly helmet 😒😒😒 It was particularly egregious given that the episode included a plotline where his sister (Alicent) and his war buddy Criston Cole emotionally processed what happened during the battle, it made sense for him to be at least somewhat involved! Go comfort your sister, her son got burned by dragonfire! By her other son! It's bad! I'm going to headcanon that he disappeared into the nearest (or fanciest) tavern in the city to also cope with it the best he could on his own (also at least one of his buddies died in the battle I think??? I know the show won't care for that but I'll care). Maybe I'll write a lil x reader h/c ficlet about him meeting with an old friend by chance while he's there!

I'm definitely taking you up on the offer to reach out to chat!! I'm pretty shy when it comes to starting DMs so thanks again for offering directly.

[kitamars]

Anonymous cuz I'm shy. I'm absolutely losing my mind over your AtLA AU art. I love everything about it and I need someone who's not me to write that fic. I also need to ask for Fire Nation? Non-bender? Wolfwood's hand in marriage.

BCJSF aww hello! I'm glad you like the au so much haha, honestly it's been rotting my brain for the past like, two weeks and i couldn't say anything about it bc i was making the designs and planning stuff out, it was MISERABLE

eventually you'll get more, i have a lot of stuff planned out and even then it's just a load of fun, bc atla has been in my life since i was sooo small and mashing it with trigun is like instant serotonin

also. Yeah same. I really like how he came out and i love him SOOOOOOOOO much.......also regarding what wolfwood is? 🤭

Thank you so much for enjoying!!! it makes my day ^^

[trainofcommand]

ooh 2, 3, and 6 for the ask game!

Thank you for asking! These are some fun ones.

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Oh, heck yes! I write stuff that I want to read, and so I do reread them and sometimes I think 'holy shit I can't believe I wrote this!'. What I reread depends on my mood.

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

This is hard. I don't think I can narrow it down to one, because what makes it a favourite kind of depends on my mood and what I was going for and how close I think I got to it. And what fandom I'm feeling. So, for right now: I think for Firefly, it's Pieces Tossed Aside, for Battlestar Galactica it's New Country (zombies!), for SGA (dark) it's Failsafe, and for SGA (light) it's Of winsome mood and disposition, and for SG1 it's Men of Action. There are other fics that I really, really like, but this list is already too long, so I'm gonna stop.

(Also, writing this list out has made me realize that there are definite patterns to the things I've written that I like the most...).

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

Maybe not all the time, but there are definitely fics that I've read frequently! Sometimes I'm feeling crappy and I think, 'You know what would cheer you up? @logicgunn's 101 Contritions', so I reread that.

I love @shetiger's How Not to Light Bird sooooooooo much too, the whole dynamic is so well done.

I love rereading Keep Dreaming, which @chaos-monkeyy and I wrote together, so it only partly qualifies for this question, but I reallllllllly love the parts chaos wrote, so I'm gonna include it. Also, I love rereading it because the experience of writing it together was so fun.

I also like sardonicsmiley's Three Hundred and Sixty-Four a lot, not just for the story overall, but all the little details.

I also have a bunch of Major Lorne-centric fic recs under the fic recs tag that are all things I've read several times and like very, very much!

[melismaticmadness]

RAIN

Hi..so this is my first ever fanfic/imagine/story thing. (I am not quite sure what this is..) This is just fiction and no part of it is real, nor am I claiming to know anyone I write about. 

Description: Fluff and Friendship - You plan to surprise Owen in Vancouver while he’s filming JATP. Charlie helped you organize it, but something goes wrong in your plan. What happens in the rain?

2400 words

Warnings: Language, Talks of Anxiety/Mental Health

Owen Joyner x Reader

***********************************

RAIN 

November rain in Vancouver wasn’t exactly pleasant but as I stood outside hitting the call button for his apartment building for the fifteenth time, I was far past annoyed. Soaked and annoyed. How could this surprise get so messed up that I am standing here at 3:32 am?Charlie and I had planned my surprise Thanksgiving visit perfectly. I would take a red-eye flight, get into the apartment, sleep for a few hours while Owen was still on set with BooBoo, and then we’d have a day together and the Thanksgiving party later tonight. Charlie won’t wake up to answer the call button and let me in!!

I have been out here for 30 minutes already when someone taps me on the shoulder from behind.

“Excuse me, sorry, but do you need help?”

I turn around and the tall, sleepy boy in front of me with a hoodie pulled tight over his hair is shocked.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Well, I could say the same about you! Charlie said you were shooting until at least 6 am!!”

“I’m so good that we wrapped early, and got what we needed. I am still so confused as to how you got here…” He said with a fake hair toss.

“Owen, we’ve talked about this. Airplanes work for everyone, you’re not special.”

“No no, butthead. I mean standing outside my apartment building - in Vancouver - in the rain.”

I went on hurriedly about how I was here to surprise him for Thanksgiving, but the surprise is ruined because Charlie never woke up to buzz me into the building. My anxiety over his reaction was at an all-time high because my plan was derailed and he was here early, and I was drenched, but Owen could see it on my face, and before I could even finish explaining I was wrapped in a hug.

“Let’s get your soggy ass inside,” he said as he entered his pin and the doors unlocked. With his hands on my shoulders pushing me ahead of him, we went to the stairwell and up to his floor. We laughed as my wet shoes squeaked down the hall and into the apartment. I was immediately ordered into the bathroom to strip and shower.

“Hey, you can’t make me strip. I charge for that nowadays.”

“Yeah and I charge for taking in homeless, wet girls off the street, but you don’t see me asking for a check.”

After I punch him in the arm and run off to the bathroom, I can’t help but smile. We’ve been apart for so long, but it feels like nothing has changed. I was so worried that he wouldn’t be happy to see me, or that he would be annoyed that I showed up and messed up any plans he had, or god forbid if he came home with a girl and I was there.

Still, as I got into the warm shower most of my anxieties washed away (besides the ‘bringing a girl home one’). About five minutes into my hot shower, I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Yes?” I whisper-yelled out.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh..sure”

“I just wanted to bring you a set of dry stuff to wear, I’ll put it on the toilet for you.”

“Thanks, O.” I peeked my head out behind the black shower curtain and saw him standing with his back to the shower placing the clothes and towel down. I could pull him into the shower by the back of his shirt from here if I wanted to, but I am not ballsy enough to do that. He thinks of me as one of the boys, and I doubt that line will ever get crossed. The boys would mess with him in this situation though.

I filled a hand up with water and sprinkled it down his neck and back. Hearing Owen gasp when he felt water all over him was hysterical, especially because he would not turn around to look at me.

“You are SO lucky you are in the shower or I would get your ass back sooooooooo good.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get the hell out of here,” I said splashing him again, “I’ll be out in a sec.”

He hurried out and I finished as fast as possible because now I was a little worried he would hand my bras from his balcony or something…

One last look in the mirror as I squeezed my hair out and I smelled like Owen. His soap, shampoo, towels...I wish I could always smell this. Stupid TV shows shooting in foreign countries….

Back in the living room, I found Owen asleep on the couch. Knowing him, he probably did not sleep at all yesterday like he was supposed to for the night shoot.

“Yo, blondie...Owen..go to bed”

“What’s wrong?! Oh, no I’m awake what...what do you wanna do?”

“I want you to go to bed. We can hang out after you sleep for a few hours.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll probably try to sleep a little too. The guy next to me on my last flight was a snorer.”

“Come to bed with me”

“Wh-what? O, it’s ok I am totally ok on the couch.”

“No, no. You’re coming. Let’s go, y/n. I’ll sleep on the floor if you want”

I couldn’t even protest more because I was being wrapped in a blanket with Owen and we were walking to his room. Look, we had had sleepovers before as kids, but the last time we did this we were thirteen, in his childhood room, with two sleeping bags on the floor. He was always working, and I was always in school, so most of the time when he was home I had to go home at night for school the next day.

How do you have a platonic sleepover with your best friend who you are also in love with? Do I just roll over the opposite way and pray that we don’t wake up with me holding onto him?

His bed was made and it smelled like he had just washed his sheets before work. He led me to one side of the bed, pulled the covers back, and simply said, “Get in.” He shuffled over to his side of the bed and did the same.

“G’night.”

“Goodnight. Hey, do you have to be up for work or anything? I can set an alarm.”

“Nope, I’m off all day because of the night shoot.”

“Okay, goodnight y/n”

With that last “goodnight”, I felt him get closer to me. My heart was beating so fast I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out or throw up and nothing was even happening!! Owen reached over to the other side of me and pulled me close.

“It looked like you were shivering. I should've told you to dry your hair before bed.”

“I’m okay,” I said pushing his hair out of his face, so I could see him.

“Okay.”

Arms tangled over each other, we both fell asleep.

***********************************

Hours later the rain got worse. Through the open window, I could hear the thunder was really loud and I happened to open my eyes as lightning lit up the sky. Fun fact about me. I hate lightning and am terrified of it. Being in a highrise apartment building with lots of windows, was a nightmare for me. I curled up in fetal position under the blankets and pulled them all the way up over my head.

I felt Owen moving around next to me and just assumed he was rolling over, but I felt him grab me by the waist. We were now face-to-face, chest to chest, completely under his sheets.

“Fancy meeting you under here.” His morning breath could’ve killed me, and not because it smelled. I didn’t think I could be attracted to him and his voice more than I already was.

“Sorry for waking you. The storm.”

“I know. As soon as I heard it, I knew. You’re safe. It’s loud because it’s passing over us and will be gone in a few minutes.”

The next roll of thunder shook the room a little and a single little tear escaped and I tried to hide it by moving my hair and pretending to fix the blanket over my head but he caught me.

“..hey I’m right here. Do you want to go sit in the bathroom? There are no windows.”

“I’m fine, sorry,” I said and took a deep breath.

“How can I help you right now?”

“I’m sorry. My anxiety went off the rails when my surprise got ruined earlier and I don’t know how to sleep in bed with a boy, and on top of that the worst storm is happening,” I sputtered.

Owen laughed a soft little laugh and pulled me closer.

“You’re just sleeping next to me... I’m not just a boy... we’re not strangers, hell I just walked in on you in the shower earlier...wait... god, did I make you uncomfortable?” He made some space between us and laid his head on his hands while looking at me.

“Oh god, Owen no. No.” I grabbed his hands back and put them under my face pulling him back towards me. I hadn’t noticed until now that he lost his shirt somewhere in the night. “You just know how I get, all up in my head about every little thing.” The butterflies in my stomach felt more like fireworks exploding in an almost painful display under these sheets.

“Well, what is your head saying right now? Let’s talk through it.”

A shaky breath escaped my mouth. I can’t tell him I've loved him since our days of sleeping bags on his bedroom floor. So, I pivot.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be happy to see me and that I was imposing by just showing up here…”

“You know I always am so happy to see you. I wish I could see you every day, we talk every day. You being here is so much better than a few texts and a missed facetime call while I’m at work.”

“Okay.. I love- I mean...I like being here too. I can’t make fun of you if you don’t answer my texts.” We both laughed a little this time.

“Sounds like the lightning stopped. Wanna go watch the sunrise? It should be up any minute.”

“We should get out from under the covers first...”

“Right.”

Pulling the covers down gave me the fresh air I needed to think clearly. I did not need to tell him how I felt. These moments were enough.

“Good morning, y/n.”

“Good morning, O.”

“Grab a towel before we head out to wipe the chairs down.”

“Yes ma’am,” Owen salutes and runs out of the room.

***********************************

Nothing is better than watching the sunshine hit this smiling boy’s blonde locks and pink cheeks first thing in the morning. Sitting on the same plastic lounge chair, I wanted to pinch myself.

“We slept for like three hours,” I laughed.

“We can nap again before the Thanksgiving party tonight. I’m not that tired.”

“Want me to order coffee? I’ll run and get it, I saw a Starbucks next door.”

“Nah, I put some on when I went for the towel.”

“Smart man. I’m gonna grab some water then.”

“I’ll get it. I added lemon to our pitcher in the fridge for you, when I went for the towel too.”

“Joyner, you do think of everything.”

“I did remember you don’t drink coffee, give me some credit!” He said as he ducked off the balcony.

I stood up to lean over the railing and before I knew it Owen was over my shoulder with a glass of water and his coffee. The rain was picking up again. I took a sip and put it down on the little outdoor table they kept out there and continued to stare out at the city as it woke up.

Owen hugged me from behind and I leaned into him as an instinct. I realized I was probably making him uncomfortable and went to slide over to give him space, but he stopped me.

“Y/n, can you stand still? Your head is blocking my view.”

“My head?! I am like a foot shorter than you!”

“Yes, the back of your head is blocking my view.”

“What can you possibly be looking at? The rain?! Look there’s a bus! Trying to stalk people as they walk their dogs?” I rambled as I turned around to see where his eyes were pointed.

At that moment, he grabbed my neck, and the next thing I knew his lips were on mine. I think my heart stopped. I stood there like a limp noodle for a solid 3 seconds before I pulled away. The expression on his face was one of being mortified.

“Oh god...Oh, I’m so sorry. Oh, fuck!” He said and started running his hands through his hair and pacing away from me. “I thought..oh god.. It doesn’t matter what I thought because I was out of line..”

I grabbed his arm as he turned away from me again.

“Do it again.”

“..wh-what?”

“Owen, can we try it again?”

“Y/n, I don’t want you to think you have to kiss me because I kissed you. It’s ok. I’m so sorry.”

I walked over to him, put my hands on his bare chest, and kissed him.

“I have wanted to do that since we were thirteen.”

“You-huh?”

“I have wanted to kiss you since we were thirteen, probably before. I just was scared. Our friendship is so special to me, I couldn’t imagine losing it. Then when you were spending more and more time in L.A. and then coming here to Vancouver, I thought you probably had met someone already and were just keeping it quiet.”

“I haven’t met anyone,” he stammered. “I thought I lost my chance with you for good when I moved out here, but I never was into anyone else.”

“Now what?”

“Can I kiss you again?” We both laughed and as we collided it’s almost as if rain was waiting on its cue from us. It stopped.

I wonder what is in store for us now.

[homoose]

Winning is a Habit

Hi y’all! Okay sooooooooo this is my first time writing fic??????? Like omg please be nice lmao. I don’t have a beta reader, so if you catch any mistakes pls lmk! I saw this challenge and the world is total garbage, so why not write our own realities????? Ok here goes!!!!!!!!!! Written for @veraiconcos fic challenge

Summary: The BAU gets called to investigate two high-profile murders in a college town, only to find that they are part of a much bigger, more complicated picture. No real pairings, although you could make it happen if you want lol ;) This is an idea I’ve seen floating around the fandom for a little while now, and I really wanted to see it fleshed out. Set around season 4 or 5.

Category: some angst, sort of fluff? I wouldn’t say it necessarily qualifies as an AU, but it’s outside of canon.

Warnings/Includes: some brief descriptions of violence/CM type stuff; mentions of rape (no details)

Word count: 6.1k

———

“Stillwater, Oklahoma,” JJ said, navigating the map off screen and pulling up the crime scene photos. “Two college seniors— Tyler Allen and Leon Williams, star football players for Oklahoma State University— both found dead the day before the playoff qualifier.”

“Do we know the cause of death?” Spencer asked, thumbing through the case file.

“The ME report concluded that both boys died of acute alcohol poisoning,” JJ informed them.

Emily looked up from the file. “And the locals don’t think this could just be a case of college kids having a little too much fun?”

“Before a major playoff game? I doubt it.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Especially considering OSU’s having a record-breaking season. I’d guess the coach had players on a pretty strict lockdown.” He raised his hands and joined them in a steeple over his chest. “Showing up to a game hung-over— particularly one as important as this— would be a major conduct issue.”

“That, and there was a pretty specific message left on both victims,” JJ added, arms crossed and eyebrows lifting into her hairline.

“On them?” Rossi questioned.

JJ motioned with her hand back to the screen. Six sets of eyes moved over the photo; the words “U LOSE” scrawled in ink across the foreheads of the two men.

“Resorting to murder to win a football game?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed.

“And why use the forensic countermeasure of staged alcohol poisoning, only to backtrack and assert it as a murder?” Spencer pondered, pursing his lips.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got two dead college students and a definite signature. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told them, closing his case file.

⧭⧭⧭

“No sign of forced entry.” Derek walked through the entry hallway and into the living space. “Doesn’t look like there was any struggle, either.”

Rossi thumbed through the mail on the kitchen counter and peered around the small space. “Everything you’d expect in a boys’ college dorm room: dishes in the sink, generic decor, general mess. Nothing that stands out.”

“Agents, thank you so much for coming.” A tall man in a dark suit stepped across the threshold of the apartment. He stuck out his hand for Rossi to shake. “Steven Barrett, Dean of Students.”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. This is SSA Derek Morgan.” Derek nodded from his place in the living room.

“I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. We’re dealing with a grieving campus,” Barrett said, running a hand over his face. “I’m actually on my way to speak to the Board, but I wanted to check in with you before. I’m not sure I can be of much help, but I can try to answer any questions you might have.”

“These boys were seniors, but they still lived on campus. Is that typical?” Rossi asked, gesturing around the apartment.

“Uh, yes, it is for student athletes,” Barrett confirmed with a nod. “OSU teams have demanding, sometimes grueling practice schedules. Being on campus simplifies things, allows students to get to classes and practices, as well as utilize the dining halls.”

“Does this building have security cameras?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. All of our buildings do. I’ll let Campus PD know you’ll need access to the footage.” Barrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and punched the button to answer the call. “Yes. Yes, I—I’m finishing up with the FBI now. I understand. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “I’m sorry to leave you, gentlemen. Our top priority right now is supporting our students and community through this tragedy. Part of that healing process is finding out who did this to Tyler and Leon. So anything else you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have to do that job right about now.”

Rossi gave another glance around the nondescript apartment and sighed. “Call Garcia and ask her if she’s found any other cases that could be related. And let’s hope there’s something useful on that security footage.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Based on lividity and rigor mortis, I was able to put the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00pm on Wednesday evening. The blood alcohol content for both boys was over five times the legal limit. I’ve never seen anything like it,” the medical examiner mused.

Emily looked over the bodies, her arms crossed. “Dr. Saraj, about how much would they have to drink for the level to be that high?”

“When drinking, the level of alcohol in our blood reaches a peak before it drops off after the last drink ingested,” Spencer supplied. “In a typical night of drinking, spread over the course of several hours, the average man can have 8-12 drinks without ever reaching lethal levels. But considering each victim weighed around 230 pounds, they’d have had to ingest approximately 180 ounces of beer or 18.75 ounces of liquor to reach a lethal blood alcohol content.”

Dr. Saraj glanced at Spencer before adding, “Look, this is a college town. Kids drink. But... to have had this much alcohol still detectable in their system post-mortem indicates that these boys drank at least the equivalent of a 30 rack, by themselves, in less than an hour.” She flipped up the first page of the report in her hands, eyes scanning the second. “And the toxicology screen also found trace amounts of ketamine.”

Spencer bent over the examining table and adjusted the wrist of one of the boys with a gloved hand. “Doctor, are these ligature marks?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Saraj agreed, nodding. “They’re relatively faint, so I almost missed them. But I found similar marks on both boys on the wrists and ankles.”

“So,” Emily said, gesturing with her hands, “the unsub doses them with ketamine to gain control, ties them up, forces them to drink lethal amounts of alcohol, and then— what?” She looked to Spencer. “Waits for them to pass out before removing the restraints and leaving the message?”

Spencer examined the marker scrawls. “Were you able to determine what the message was written with and if it was left pre- or post-mortem?”

“My guess would be it was written with some type of permanent marker, but I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Saraj said. “We’re analyzing the residue now, and I can send the report your way as soon as I have it. As for when it was written, I couldn't tell you.” She shook her head. “The one simple mercy is that these boys would have been out cold for a while before they died.”

⧭⧭⧭

“I’m so sorry. I know how difficult this is. Anything that you can tell us will be helpful in finding the person who did this,” JJ encouraged softly. “Anyone that Tyler might have had an argument with recently or who he mentioned having problems with?”

“No, no. He was—he was just your typical boy,” Mrs. Allen sniffled. “Playing football and hanging out with his friends,” she said, voice hitching. “Oh my god.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“He didn’t have time to have problems,” Mr. Allen asserted. “He spent all his free time on the field. Coach had them out there for two-a-days until classes started. He’s the quarterback. He was leading that team to the first national title since 1945.” He stood to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “Some lunatic murdered my boy and you’re sitting around talking to us while they’re out there, walking free.”

“Sir, I promise you that we have some of the best agents in the country working on your son’s case,” JJ assured. “But in order to help them do their job, we need to know as much as we can about who Tyler was.”

Across the bullpen, Hotch sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “Leon was a good boy. Football was his life. He loved being a part of this team. It was the season of a lifetime,” Mr. Williams said.

“We taught him better than to be drinking and carrying on,” Mrs. Williams added.

“Can you think of anything or anyone he might have mentioned recently that was out of the ordinary? Anything that was bothering him or causing him distress?” Hotch questioned.

“He was feeling pressure about the season, but he’s been handling that kind of thing since he was twelve years old.” Mr. Williams shared an almost indiscernible look with his wife. “He got into—into the same kinds of trouble any college kid gets in. Nothing that could have gotten him murdered.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Yeah, baby girl, what d’ya got for me?” Derek held the phone out so that Rossi could listen in as they waited in the OSU security office.

“Well, my handsome knight, I wish I could tell you more but so far, I’m coming up empty with similar cases,” Penelope sighed. “Nothing that matches our alcohol poisoning M.O. or the signature. I just expanded the search to surrounding states, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Anything on our two victims?” Rossi asked.

“Now that’s where it gets interesting,” Penelope mused, tapping the fluffy end of her pen into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing. Zilch, nada.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “And that’s interesting because...?”

“Come on, sir,” Penelope scoffed. “Two young, athletic, good-looking college football stars and there’s nothing at all? Nothing scandalous on social media. No run-ins with campus PD. Not even a write up from an RA.”

Derek tilted his head in thought. “Hotch and JJ said their conversations with the parents told a similar story.”

“Okay, but no one is this squeaky clean, particularly not at a Big 12 college. Everyone has some dirt,” Penelope insisted. “I haven’t found it yet, but there’s gotta be something out there. When I have it, you’ll know it!”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek drawled.

“Over and out!” Penelope jabbed the button to end the call.

The OSU officer waved them over with his hand. “I’ve got it queued up to 6:24pm. You can see the boys here,” he pointed on the screen at the two victims, “entering the north entrance of the dining hall.”

Derek leaned toward the monitor. “So they leave practice, come through the dining hall for dinner. When do they leave?”

The footage sped up on the screen, then stopped. “Here. 7:01.”

“Rossi, you seeing this?” Derek slid his eyes over.

Rossi nodded. “Is there any way to enhance these frames?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Not on this system. Honestly, the camera quality isn’t great. I’ve been trying to get them to invest in an upgraded OS, but you know—budget woes. Your analyst might be able to do more.”

“It’s not going to matter.” Derek sighed and straightened up. “She’s careful of her angles.”

“I couldn’t find them on any grounds cameras, but they pop back up entering the dorm. Here, at 7:12.”

“All three of them,” Rossi noted. He looked at Derek. “And like you said, she’s discreet.”

“They all go upstairs to the apartment,” the officer continued, “but only the girl leaves. At 8:43.”

⧭⧭⧭

“We have a witness from the cafeteria that confirms that the boys ate with a dark-haired young woman in a red coat,” Hotch said, arms crossed. “But other than those two details, the witness couldn’t recall anything else and said they’d never seen her before.”

“So we’ve got the two victims entering their apartment with an unknown woman. They’re upstairs for an hour and a half before she leaves,” Emily recounted.

Derek stood with his hands on his hips. “And in that time, she manages to dose and gain control of two boys that are more than double her size and funnel a lethal amount of alcohol into them. Now the question is why?”  

As the team converged around the conference room table, a uniformed officer entered into the doorway. “Agent Jareau? There’s a possible witness—says she might have some new information.”

JJ nodded to the team and moved to the doorway. A petite young woman stood in the center of the bullpen, wringing her hands. When her eyes landed on JJ, she let her arms fall to her side. As JJ approached, she motioned with her hand for the girl to sit at the closest desk. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I heard you wanted to speak to someone about this case. Can I have your name?”

The girl nodded. “Um, I’m Cassie. I saw the announcement you made. About the woman in the red coat. I heard you say that she had brown hair. Is that true?”

JJ cocked her head slightly. “Yeah, the witness and security footage we have shows a woman with dark hair walking with Tyler and Leon. Why do you ask?”

Cassie’s eyes darted around the bullpen, and she drew her arms tightly over her chest. “I just— um—well, I—”

“Would it help if we moved somewhere a little quieter?” JJ suggested. When Cassie nodded and stood, JJ placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her toward an empty interview room. Cassie sat in the chair farthest from the door, and JJ sat opposite her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about the woman? Or is it something else that’s on your mind?”

Cassie let out a long breath. “When I heard that they were dead, I— I was relieved. That sounds awful, but it’s true.”

JJ tread lightly over her next question. “You felt relieved. Why was that?”

Cassie looked directly at JJ. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder everywhere I go for the last seven months. I won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

Cassie took a breath and closed her eyes for a long second, before opening them and continuing. “There was a huge party in the spring. I mean, there were, like, hundreds of people there.” Cassie’s eyes went wide. “I never go to parties like that. But it was the end of the year, and my friend—well, I went with my friend. She got invited.”

“Were Tyler and Leon at this party?” JJ asked.

“Everybody was. I mean, everybody who’s somebody at OSU was there. We saw them right away. The whole team was there, but people treated those two like kings.” Cassie looked down at her hands. “We were drinking... a lot. At some point, Laney and I got separated. I tried calling her phone a bunch of times, but the party was really loud. I—I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was getting really messed up. I had a guy friend from one of my classes walk me home.” She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. “Laney didn’t get back until the morning. Her clothes were all torn up, her hair had... blood in it, and she—she had a bruise under her eye.” She looked up at JJ, eyes shining with tears. “They raped her. I left her behind, and they raped her,” she whispered.

JJ reached across the table for Cassie’s hand. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. What happened to Laney was not your fault, or hers. Do you understand me?” JJ paused before continuing. Cassie looked down. “Do you know if she reported it?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m the one who went with her to the infirmary. They did a kit and confirmed it. When we went to Campus PD, they did nothing. Said Laney was wasted, and there was no one that could back up her story.”

JJ squeezed her hand. “So there was no official report filed?”

Cassie laughed coldly. “Oh, they wrote a report. I think if we ask them to, they have to. But they wouldn’t name Tyler or Leon in it. Said they didn’t want to ‘give legs to any gossip.’”

JJ’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Where’s Laney now?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie shook her head. “She didn’t come back to OSU this fall. I haven’t really talked to her since—” She looked at JJ. “I can’t get the image of her out of my head. How she looked when she came through the door that morning. What they did to her… I’m not sorry that they’re dead.” Her eyes were shining with rage. “People knew what happened… and no one did anything. And those two were still the kings of campus.”

⧭⧭⧭

The team absorbed the new information quietly. “So Garcia was right. They did have something to hide.” Derek’s phone buzzed. “Speaking of. Hey mama, you’re on speaker.”

“I hope you’re all sitting down,” Penelope warned. “I expanded the parameters of my original VICAP search to include the surrounding states. No hits on suspicious deaths by alcohol poisoning. However, the U LOSE signature? Seven hits across Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.”

“So our unsub’s been traveling across the South—” Emily started.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Penelope continued. “Just to double check, I expanded the search area to the continental US. Our unsub has been busy. Over 30 murders with this signature, all across the country, dating back to March 2007. All different M.O.s: gunshot, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But all with U LOSE scrawled across their forehead in—get this—liquid eyeliner.”

“Anything tying the victims together, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“All men, mostly white, but all across different ages, occupations, and marital statuses. At first glance, there’s no real connection,” Penelope answered.

“What about on second glance?” Hotch prompted.

“Way ahead of you, sir. I did a little digging.” Penelope shrugged. “Okay, a lot of digging—most of it legal. Every single one of these victims had at least one sexual assault allegation. Some are official police reports, some are HR complaints, some are sealed court records. But in every case, the victim’s cause of death is directly related to the details of the assault records. Women that were held at knifepoint, their attacker was stabbed to death. If they were choked, he was strangled. If they were held at gunpoint, he died of a gunshot wound. Et cetera, et cetera.” Penelope twirled her pen. “The differing M.O.s combined with the fact that the unsub kept crossing state lines kept local PDs and field offices from making the connection.”

“Garcia, can you search OSU PD records for an incident report?” JJ asked.

Garcia tapped rapidly across her keyboard. “Absolutely, sugar, when would it have been filed?”

“It would’ve been this year, sometime at the end of April or beginning of May,” JJ answered. “The victim would be named as Laney Collins.”

After a few moments, Garcia peered through her green cat-eye glasses at the report. “Mmm, I’ve got one incident report, filed on May 7th. And woof, this report is not much to go on. The responding officer wrote a whopping three sentences. According to him, Laney was incapacitated and thus was not a credible witness.” Garcia twirled her pen. “The alleged attackers, who are not named, denied Laney’s account of what happened. Because there were no other witnesses, Officer Thorough deemed that no further action was necessary.” She jabbed her pen in the direction of the screen. “And this, my friends, is why women don’t bother reporting.”

“Good work, Garcia,” said Hotch.

“There’s one more interesting detail from the report,” Garcia continued. “The dean of students signed off on it.”

“So Barrett knew about this the whole time,” Derek fumed.

“And again, people wonder why women don’t report,” Garcia repeated, ending the call.

“So our unsub is seeking justice for women she believes have been failed by the system. We’re looking for a vigilante, carrying out revenge killings,” Rossi concluded.

Derek nodded. “And she’s organized and efficient; she finished with Tyler and Leon in less than two hours.”

“She’s smart and she blends in, doesn’t draw too much attention to herself,” JJ added.

“She’s meticulous and has at least some knowledge of forensic countermeasures, considering there’s no physical evidence tying her to any of the scenes,” Spencer remarked.

“And she knew enough to keep her face off the security footage,” Emily finished.

“Rossi, Emily, and I will stay here and deliver the profile,” Hotch directed. “JJ, I’d like you to speak to the families again, see if they knew about the rape. Reid, Morgan, talk to Barrett and see what else he might be trying to keep quiet.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Makes you wonder just how many people knew what happened,” Derek considered, closing the car door.

“It’s estimated that twenty percent of student victims of sexual assault report it to their university, but less than one percent of assailants receive any type of disciplinary action,” Spencer cited, making his way toward the sidewalk.

Derek shook his head. “And so the victims don’t see the point in reporting it. Your attacker gets to walk around like nothing even happened. Cassie told JJ that she felt like she had a target on her back once they reported Laney’s assault.”

As they walked up the blacktop driveway to the entrance of Barrett’s home, Spencer slowed his steps as he noticed the front door. “Morgan.” He nodded at the door, slightly ajar.

Derek drew his gun and moved ahead of Spencer. He pushed the door slowly open and called out, “Mr. Barrett?” In the foyer were the remnants of a broken vase and a small trail of blood. “Call Hotch, let him know we’ve got trouble here.”

Derek and Spencer worked to quietly clear the rooms, one by one. Derek stopped at the bottom of the stairs and motioned to Spencer. As they started up the stairs, a woman’s voice called out, “Shut up! You had nothing to say before. So now, you’re just going to listen.”

Derek reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway. He reached the open door where a woman stood, her back to the door. Behind her, Derek could see Barrett, sitting on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on his head. His hands were raised in front of his chest, palms facing out. Derek stopped, his gun trained on the woman, and murmured, “Laney?”

The woman pivoted her body, her short blonde hair whipping around. Derek saw tears in her eyes and a revolver in her hand. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Laney, my name is Derek. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. I need you to put the gun down.”

“No!” Laney screamed. “You don’t know what he’s done.” She shook the gun in Barrett’s direction, and Barrett closed his eyes.

Derek spoke softly. “I do, Laney. I do know. I know what happened to you. I know that he kept Tyler and Leon’s names off the report. I know that he didn’t help you when you needed it most. I know that he let them get away with--”

“Rape. He let them get away with rape. Because he cares more about reputation and football than what happens to women on his campus. They ruined my life.” Laney turned away from Derek and put both hands on the gun. “They ruined my life, and you did nothing. And then they walked around campus like they were invincible, because you taught them they were.”

Derek moved further into the room, into Laney’s eyesight. Spencer moved into the doorway, covering Derek. “Laney, look at me. I’m putting my gun away.” Derek held his hands up and then moved to holster his gun. “Doing this won’t make the pain go away.”

“How many others? How many other women did he do this to?” Laney let out a painful sob. “If I don’t stop him, it never ends.”

“Listen to me.” Derek took a step closer to her. “Killing him won’t change what happened, Laney. It won’t. Believe me. I know how you feel.”

“People love to say that when they’re trying to shut you up. How could you possibly know how I feel?” Laney spit out.

“Someone hurt me, just like they hurt you. And nobody was there to help me. No one was there to listen.” Laney froze, eyes shifting to meet Derek’s. “I wanted to hurt him, Laney. Wanted to make him feel the same pain I felt. I wanted him to suffer.” He moved another step closer. “I know that those men hurt you, and I know that he let them get away with it. And I am so, so sorry. But you’re stronger than anyone knows, Laney. You are the only person who has the power to help others who didn’t get justice. I have a friend who’s spent her whole life helping survivors, and I know she’d love to talk with you.” He took another step. “You are the only person who can stop it from happening to someone else. You can make sure he’s held accountable for what he’s done. But if you pull that trigger, you can never go back,” Derek warned.

Laney looked at Derek, his hand outstretched, wordlessly asking her to give him the gun. She looked at Barrett, crying and silently begging her to show him the mercy she never got. “I wish I’d been the one to kill them,” she whispered.

The gun dropped out of her hand as Derek stepped forward to catch her. He kicked the gun into the doorway, and Spencer recovered it. “I’ve got you,” Derek said, helping Laney out of the room. “Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Spencer moved to lift Barrett off the ground and helped him into a chair by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer caught a flash of red below the window. He stumbled over Barrett, nose almost pressed to the glass as he stared out. The woman froze, eyes locked on Spencer’s. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at her, bewildered. By the time his brain caught up, she had already disappeared from view.

Spencer turned and raced down the stairs, clinging to the railing as he nearly missed a step. He burst out the front door into the driveway, sprinting around the side of the house. He heard Derek call his name, saw the other SUVs pulling up, but he kept running. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the backyard, and then spun in a full circle, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter.

Hotch approached from the side of the house, gun drawn. “Reid! Are you all right?”

Spencer took a last look, scanned from east to west. “Yeah, yeah. I just—I thought I saw—I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Barrett’s inside. He’s got a head laceration, but he’ll be fine.”

Hotch lowered his gun and nodded. “And Laney’s not our unsub. So we’re back to the beginning.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Strauss is asking us to head back to Quantico.” Hotch pocketed his phone and looked at the team. “We’ll move the cases to our watch list and flag the signature for hits in VICAP. From what we know about the unsub’s behavior, we know she’s no longer in the area.” He gestured to the evidence board. “Our best course of action is to keep the profile in our periphery for now. We can do that from the BAU. It’s late. Go to the hotel, get some rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely starving.” Emily slipped into her jacket and headed for the door. “Anybody want to hit up that 24 hour diner?”

Derek and JJ quickly agreed, following Emily from the conference room. JJ turned back, eyeing Spencer. “You coming, Spence?”

“I’m just really tired.” His voice lilted up, almost a question. “Next time, though.”

JJ gave him a look but didn’t press him. “Have a good night, Spence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gathered up the case files, not quite ready to put them away.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer’s eyelids felt heavy as he walked through the lobby of the hotel. He really was tired. He blamed the exhaustion for what he thought he saw through the window at Barrett’s. His fatigued mind was seeing things that weren’t there. He practically floated into the elevator and up to his room. Sliding the room key through the slot, the door beeped open and Spencer stepped inside. He flicked on the light and dropped his bag on the floor, loosening his tie as he walked toward one of the sling back chairs sat by the window. He paused just before he reached the chair, his gaze lingering over something on the desk. A note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary.

623.

Spencer lifted the note with two careful fingers. “623?” He turned it over, looking for the rest of the message, but the paper was blank other than the number. He lowered the note, and his eyes landed on a small plastic card where the paper had rested on the table. Not just a card. A room key.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer stared at the door of the room. Room 623. He turned his head and slowly looked up and then down the hallway. He took a breath and raised his hand to the door. He knocked in the familiar rhythm: five knocks, pause, two knocks. He pressed his ear close to the door, listening for any movement inside. When he heard nothing, he knocked again; the same pattern, but a little louder. He listened again. Nothing. Spencer felt a bead of sweat creep down the nape of his neck. He thought about turning around, about walking back down the two flights of stairs to his room and getting into bed.

Instead, he pulled the keycard from his pocket. As he lifted the card with one hand, he used his other to raise the strap on his holster. He held his breath as he swiped the card through the slot and heard the beep of the lock. Drawing his gun from the holster, Spencer slowly turned the handle of the door.

The room was mostly dark. Only the yellow glow of one of the bedside lamps illuminated the space. Spencer stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Again, his mind said to turn around. Yet his feet carried him further into the room. He could see now that the sling backs were facing toward the window. There were two glasses from the mini bar on the table between them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a familiar voice mused.

Spencer startled and then swallowed audibly, a cartoon character realizing he’s in serious trouble. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You can put the gun away,” she continued. “Really. Come sit down, Reid.”

Hearing her say his name sucked all the air out of his lungs. He closed the remaining distance between them, staring dumbly at her perched in the armchair. She gave him a small smile, warm despite the nervous energy in the air. “Hey, Reid.”

“Elle.” Spencer sunk into the chair across from her. “I—I thought I was seeing things. Earlier. At Barrett’s.”

She studied him quietly. “This hair is a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” Spencer blushed, smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck. He quickly dropped his hand. “It was you then.”

“What was me?” Elle asked innocuously.

“You were at Steven Barrett’s house today. In the yard.” Spencer folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “You were wearing a red coat.”

Elle lifted one of the glasses to her lips, taking a sip of the clear liquor, ice cubes rattling. She swallowed and gestured to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

“I, um, I don’t drink anymore.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “A lot has happened since… the last time I saw you.” Spencer smoothed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “You were there today. Elle, did you—are you…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask.

Elle ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was quiet for a long time. Spencer fidgeted in his seat, but stayed quiet, waiting. Elle set the glass down.

“Do you remember that night in Dayton? In the hotel room?” Spencer looked at her pointedly. Elle let out a laugh. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m talking to; of course you remember.” Their eyes met. Spencer felt she was looking right through him. “You told me that I’d won. That because Garner was dead, and I was alive, I won.”

“Elle—” Spencer started.

“You asked, Reid. This is my answer.” She screwed the cap off the bottle of gin. Pouring the remainder of the bottle into her glass, she continued, “It took time, but I started to feel safe in my own home again. I could close my eyes without seeing his face. I could take a shower without bringing my gun.” She downed the rest of her glass. “When I killed Lee, I gave that same freedom back to the women he’d raped. They could exist in the world knowing that he would never hurt them, ever again.” She smiled ruefully. “And it felt… good. It felt right. And after years of having watched people be destroyed by monsters… I don’t know. It was just something I had to do. To bring that freedom and that safety back to other women who had been hurt and broken and alone. To destroy their monsters.” Elle looked at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But the answer to your question is yes.”

Spencer took a breath and asked, “Why’d you put the key in my room? You could have just… disappeared.”

Elle shook her head. “I chose this. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. Most of the time, I’m fine, great even. Because being able to give these women justice is the greatest gift. But with this work, you can’t really keep anybody close. No holidays or birthdays. No dates or girls nights.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen. What the boy genius would do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, that’s a first.” Elle smiled, but Spencer could see apprehension in the rigidness of her shoulders, in the slight bouncing of her leg.

“I should probably arrest you,” he considered.

Her leg stopped. “You probably should.”

Spencer looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers up to the crook of his elbow, ghosting over the scars there. His mind raced from memory to memory: Elle on the train car; Tobias Hankle standing over him; Elle in the hospital bed; the needle in his arm; Elle in the hotel in Dayton; the click of an empty chamber.

“Elle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you that you’d won.” She was motionless, staring at him. He continued, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it was like. To be consumed and overcome by a memory.” Now it was Spencer’s eyes that shone with tears. “I didn’t know that the trauma could… fester in your brain like an infection that you can’t get rid of. I don’t know if winning is even possible after something like that.” He rubbed his hand under his eye and cleared his throat. “It was an awful thing to say. And I’m sorry.”

Elle tipped her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “All’s forgiven.”

Spencer reached out and gently grabbed Elle’s hand. “I’ve been so tired recently. I thought I saw something through the window at Steven Barrett’s house. But when I did a perimeter check, I didn’t find anything.” Elle dropped her head back down and turned to look at him. “We’re headed back to Quantico in the morning. We’ll, um, be keeping tabs on VICAP hits on the signature.” Spencer gave her hand one soft squeeze before standing. He let a small, bittersweet smile move over his face.

He made it to the door before he heard her voice again.

“If I asked you to stay, would you say yes?”

Spencer swiveled back to look at her, the door just barely open. Elle’s arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were dark and wide and full of storms. “Just for a little while longer?”

Spencer turned and moved his eyes up the length of the doorway, considering. He heard Elle let out a breath. His own breath stuttered. He closed the door softly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to her. “I’ve got a little while.”

[vizowrites]

I found your blog, thanks to seeing fanart of Striker protecting Blitzø from Stolas, based off that one fic you wrote! And I gotta ask, although I’m not sure it’s been asked already so forgive me if it has, but will Stolas find out about Striker and Blitzo’s engagement?

Hi there Love!! I'm so happy that you stopped by to say hi and omg I'm so happy that you were able to check out my friend @opaquespectre's AMAZING art that she so so beautifully posted for my fic. I'm still reeling over how gorgeous it is!!

And actually, the only questions I've gotten so far about the story have been about the wedding itself--not when Stolas finds out about the engagement prior--so thank you so so much for being the first to ask!! <3 <3 I did toy with the idea of Stolas just not finding out until the wedding day itself, but tbh.....I think it's a bit more fun if he finds out ahead of time, don't you? :3

.....Though maybe I just need to be nicer to Blitz and Striker, but I think I'll save that for a different fic. <3 <3

So to answer your question YES Stolas will absolutely find out about the engagement prior to their wedding annnnnnnd he's going to take it about as well as you might imagine he would. As for what that entails and exactly how that comes about, well.....I still need to write that part up. >> I'm going to do my best to get it done in a somewhat timely manner but I'll be honest and say that I'm also in the middle of working on a MONSTER of a fic for Ao3 sooooooooo my writing attention is a tiny bit split right now. But I promise I'm not about to just leave you guys hanging on the Dark!Stolas AU and I'm going to try to have a few perhaps smaller scenes written up and posted before I get to The Big One that is Stolas finding out and reacting accordingly to the thought of his Blitzy getting married to someone who isn't him. :)

Thank you so so much again, Love, and again, I'm so happy you stopped by to say hi!! Feel free to send in any requests you might have if you'd like, or-if you have any other questions--my askbox is always open!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[shhhlikeme]

Hello! Can I get an S/O that’s tall (not like super tall but like 5’9, 5’8, maybe even taller) and she’s really insecure of her height with Tsukishima, Atsumu and Kuroo. It can go into NSFW

Hi! 🥰 You may! I’m 5’4 but one of my best friends in high school was 5’11 and she was always insecure about her height even though she was stunning so this felt relatable and I want every tall girl to read this!!. Let’s just say reader is 5’10” to be safe. Why not!

Also, I only wrote for Atsumu and Kuroo here because the writings are relatively long and I want to get to all suggestions. If you still want a Tsukki version in the future just request again okay? xo

Atsumu | Kuroo x Reader Who is Insecure about being Tall

Atsumu

After a long chase and his relentless pining you had finally agreed to be this boy’s girlfriend last week

The first thing he wanted to do was show you off

The two of you were getting ready for Atsumu’s College Formal Athletic Banquet, where his volleyball team were the guests of honour

As it usually goes in relationships, the blonde boy was ready way before you

but it wasn’t like you two were late so he wasn’t complaining

He also wasn’t complaining because that meant he could watch you put on your finishing touches

As much as he loved when you were makeup-less and natural more, there was something sexy about the way you applied your lipstick and the way you ran your hands along your long torso to straighten the dress you had on to your hearts content

He was leaning against his bedroom door frame silently gawking at your beauty

He admired your long legs that peaked out under the double slits of your dress because they looked like like they went on for days

In his head, he thanked every God and Deity out there for making him the lucky son of gun who gets to call you his date

Man, the guys are going to be so jealous, he thinks as you sit down, stretching your legs out in front of you to apply lotion on your legs individually

Mesmerized, Atsumu licks his lips. get your bf girl he’s about to pounce

He kinda wished your dress was shorter like the drool-over-me dress you wore when he first saw you at the club with your friends

That night you were the tallest girl in the club which meant you commanded all of the attention on the dance floor. Atsumu can recall perfectly how thirsty he felt which had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn’t visited the bar yet watching you—this beautiful, tall Goddess of a woman confidently striding past her admirers too low to even get your attention.

He told his friends that they better not dare hit on you and when they protested he shot them a menacing glare so intense they immediately stfu

Back in the present, he also wished your dress was shorter so that your God-Tier legs weren’t playing a sultry peek-a-boo game with him all night that he was sure to lose

You’re tempting him

But on second thought, he remembered how other guys looked at your legs that night at the club and thought otherwise

Atsumu’s eyes recovered from their glaze over as you stand back up and fix your hair one last time before you spot him in the mirror and smirk.

“I’m ready.” You say simply.

Atsumu cleared his throat and pushed himself up into a standing position, ready to compliment you until your face turned red.

“You look—wait you’re not ready. What about your shoes?”

You peered down at your feet in simple nude flats. You sighed.

“Atsumu......I changed my mind.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at you disapprovingly.

“Y/N.”

He asked you if you wanted him to call your best friend Mariah, who always forced you to wear heels. She did this at the club the night you met your incredible boyfriend and has held it over you ever since.

Atsumu walked to the corner of his room where you had set down the box of gorgeous high heels that you were planning on wearing tonight if your insecurities didn’t get the better of you.

Looking like a prince, he walked back over to you with an intense expression. You couldn’t look away from his eyes. He backed you up until the back of your thighs hit his chair and you sat down.

Your boyfriend stared down at you.

Still maintaining eye contact, he slowly took a knee in front of you in his expensive suit to run a hand down your long legs

“If my coach wasn’t making us go to this thing tonight, I would have you screaming my name right now with these fucking remarkable legs wrapped around my ears, baby girl.” He took off your flats gently and replaced them with your heels.

Is this Cinderella or whattt? How could he be so romantic and so utterly seductive at the same time?! Your breath shortened at his words

“I’m still debating it.” Atsumu stated before groaning as he caressed your perfect legs in the new shoes. “Do not rob me of the rare opportunity to see them look even better in heels.”

You shivered at the chilling undertone in his deep voice. It was the same voice he used when he was inside you, talking you through your release. He spoke again.

“If you do, there will be consequences.”

Kuroo

“You were bullied.... for being tall?”

Asked your boyfriend Kuroo for the third time since this conversation about your biggest insecurity had started.

The two of you were lounging in the pool in your backyard. He was in the water, his chiseled arms folded in front of him as he propped his upper body on the edge of the pool. You sat your bum on the edge beside him, only allowing your feet a dip in the water.

You nodded for the billionth time

The boy looked perplexed

“But, you’re so beautiful...? And I thought it was a good thing to be tall.”

He was always praised for it his whole life so he took a lot of pride in being shy of 6’2.

You calmly explained to him that anyone can get bullied and you definitely didn’t look this way before puberty. That you stood out like a sore thumb, all the boys avoided you -and that it’s a good thing to be tall when you’re a male. That the trend was always how cute “fun sized” girls were and not how cute your 5’10” frame was. You explained to him that it was the same way girls dismissed short guys and fawned over the ones that looked like him.

“I see.” Your freakishly good looking boyfriend pushed his wet bangs back and out of his face. “I guess I never really thought a girls attraction was dependent on her height. I mean, you do know that guys only like the fun sized girl because it made them feel better about themselves, in terms of feeling able to protect the girl and stuff. It had everything to do with how it makes the guy feel, not how valuable the girl was.”

You nod slowly because you never thought of it like that. Still, you were not sold on why you should drop your insecurities when they were very relevant

“And.... Kenma is considered pretty short, right?” He shrugged, thinking about his best friend. “Girls confessed to him just as much as they did to me, if not more...”

You tried to find a good comeback to that but you couldn’t.

“You look like a freaking Victoria’s Secret Model, Y/N. You wouldn’t if you were short. When you wear lingerie for me or this bikini.......” His eyes visibly darkened as he drank in your body. “To be fair you look better than any model. By far.” Halting himself from checking you out he lifted his eyes back up to yours before he started humping the pool wall. “All guys liked Victoria’s Secret models at that age when you were being bullied, and if any of them were to say that they wouldn’t sell their right arm and jump at the opportunity to date one of them, no matter how tall the model was, then they were fucking lying. We actually really love tall girls they’re just intimidating. Boys talk but everyone was probably just jealous of you. I mean, you’re my girlfriend and I still feel like bowing every time you walk into a room, you just command attention. I can kiss you without leaning down much which is the bessst, and our bodies match up flawlessly in bed. I love it. Height is power, babe. If you were with another guy and I saw you I would be sooooooooo salty because how did he get the confidence to approach someone that looks like you??? That’s why I had to ask for your number when we met. I would be kicking myself if I didn’t. Not only are tall girls hot and you could be a Victoria’s Secret model, but YOU are a dream come true for me.”

You shut your mouth completely. Your boyfriend always knew how to make you feel better and he didn’t even know it.

“Thanks, babe.... I love you.” You smiled at him suggestively and lifted your sunglasses to rest on top of your head. You pulled your legs out of the water and swung them to the side in order to stand up and walk over to the beach chair.

Kuroo couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched you literally look like a front-page super model in real-time. Your legs were so long and sexy. He wanted to leave hickeys on every inch of them.

“Hey, speaking of Victoria’s Secret... that reminds me.... I have a few more sets I’ve been dying to show you.”

You wrapped a towel around your body and looked back over at your boyfriend whose eyes were so dark it made you slightly dizzy.

“You always know how to make me feel better..” You cooed at him, pretending his gaze wasn’t making you wet. “Let me return the favour.” You daringly turned your back to him and tugged on the two strings that unravelled your bikini top.

Kuroo gulped.

Before you walked back inside your house, you carefully lobbed the bikini top over to your boyfriend who caught it in the air with perfect athleticism.

Frozen with lust, Kuroo stared at your retreating figure. You were so tall which he was sooo happy for because that meant you had more skin to worship for hours on end. He craved you.

“Fuck me, Y/N.” Your now horny boyfriend cursed as he thought about what you looked like under that towel, dressed only in a thong bikini bottom. “You are so gonna get it.”

[starsmuserainbow]

Hmm, okay uh, I have no idea what I’m doing here but I feel like everyone needs positivity and so here’s a post where I’ll try to give just that.

First off, happy holidays and a good end of the year to everyone who reads this, I am glad that you’re here watching my blog and perhaps even interacting with me! Thank you for everything, whether that is a simple follow or an occasional (perhaps anon) ask, or actual interactions!

Next, I want to say that everyone that I’m seeing on my dash is absolutely amazing and I admire so many of you and am happy whenever I see you around! I am most likely very happy to have you around, especially if we’re mutuals and interacting with one another. I would probably love to talk with each of you more, but I’m just really bad at smalltalk or anything like that so with most people, I simply default to only messaging them (= you) when there’s something as a reason to do so. Sorry for that!

This goes out to everyone reading this: You’re awesome, I’m honored to have you here and interested in my blog, and I hope that your days or weeks or months will be great because you surely deserve it!

And then, I’ll now follow with a kind-of list mentioning a few people that I want to say more to. Which might sound repetitive because I suck at words in these regards, but yeah. Under a cut for length.

If you see this post and weren’t tagged, please don’t be sad or think I don’t value you being around! I can’t tag everyone, and I don’t have the best mind for things like coming up with someone that I forgot in the moments of writing this.

To not start off with the same names all the time, I wrote down the URLs I wanted to include and randomized the order. So don’t think anything by if you’re first or 5th or last on this list! And once more, I’m bad at words, so I’m sorry if this isn’t sounding too great or like it’s similar for each one.

I told myself to not include anyone that isn’t active-ish at the moment, but I made some exceptions to that because I felt that said person needed to be on my list.

@rogueprinceconsort ~ (I read the post you did recently more or less saying you’re leaving, but I wrote this before that post and it would have felt wrong to erase it from here only because of you leaving!) I enjoy our interactions a lot! They feel like they actually develop a story, which I can’t say for ALL my interactions but definitely for each one that we have going! Which is really cool! You’re one of the only few people where I have the chance to play around with different verses too (well, or at least one different verse, since our other two ongoing interactions are in the mainverses of my muses, but still), and you’re one of the few giving one of my OC-sideblogs a chance as well, and, just, I really am so thankful for it and happy to have you as a mutual!

@untouchable-lightning ~ You aren’t here at the moment, so let me just start this by saying that I hope that things will get better for you again soon! It’s a lot of fun to interact with you and I think you’re a good writer and I’m very happy for our interactions! They are always fun! I did not often yet get the chance to do this other RP-style that I do (the ‘choose-your-option’ one) and you are one of those that allowed me to play through it, and you also interact/ed with my sideblogs too, so a big thank you for that! Our threads also often last nicely long, which is absolutely amazing since it’s a big rarity these days, too. You’re great, and I’m happy that we’re mutuals and interaction-partners!

@miasmarp ~ We’re more or less only starting out interacting and talking and anything basically, but I felt like I just absolutely had to include you because I HAVE A CHANCE TO PLAY ONE OF MY OTHER (non-blog-having, not even an info page or anything outside of one or two ooc posts about them) OCS with you and that’s just like the first time at all (not counting if I do include them as minor appearances in other things, though even there it has only happened one single time so far iirc), and that is just so much fun and just thank you! You’re really cool and I’m happy that we’re mutuals!

@karaoftomorrow (or @yourfavoritesidekick if you’d prefer I tag your main) ~ It’s so wonderful to write with you! It feels like we’re developing stuff in our things really well, and I really like to read what appears from you on my dash! Talking with you is very nice too, and I’m always really happy whenever I see you in my notifications or IMs or wherever! I’m very glad to have you as mutual and am really happy about any and all of our interactions!

@skymade / @siriseen or maybe I should tag one of your other blogs instead but those are the first two I usually think of and I don’t wanna tag more than two blogs for one person xD ~ Sooooooooo awesome! You have so many characters, which all are wonderful as far as I can tell, and I love our interactions so much! I’m always really looking forward to the next reply I get from one of our things, and talking to you is always a delight and I’m so so happy that we somehow found each other! Or well, I guess you found me because if I remember right you followed me first, but yes! Thank you for writing with pretty much all of my characters, you’re very cool, I absolutely love the connections our muses get (especially those where they know one another at a younger time and then ‘now’ meet again too - how cool is that?) and it’s always a joy to see you on my dash!

@azarathian ~ We haven’t really done or spoken that much together yet (or at least I assume we didn’t? There was your old blog but I don’t think we really spoke there, much less did threads or the likes? Sorry if I’m wrong though xD), but I’m so very glad we started! I admire your writing and the thoughts you put into Raven and I think you’re great! Our threads are incredibly entertaining and it’s so awesome to put more story into the situations of or between the episodes of the cartoon, and yes, I’m just very very thankful that we got together somehow and I’m excited for how our threads - and potential future ones - will develop!

@nvertoolate or if I should tag your currently more active sideblog @bloomingtalent ~ It is so absolutely amazing that one of my first mutuals, friends, or however I should call it, still is active on here as well! With most people on here, it’s sadly the case that they’re gone again sooner than later, so it’s especially great that we are still both here! I think I’ve said multiple times before that I don’t think I would even have stayed on tumblr if you hadn’t been around and interacting with me so I won’t go into detail about that yet again, but, yes, I absolutely love our interactions when we do them, and while I don’t know much about Naruto so we don’t really interact that much on your sideblog, I’m still so very happy to have you around and as my mutual! I’m so thankful for you and that we got to interact - and still do! Thank you!

@sewn-cutie ~ Our interactions are always so wonderfully adorable and cute! I love the connection between Starfire and Clementine, and it’s a lot of fun to write any of our things! I’m very happy when I hear from you in an OOC-y way too, like when you reply to one of my posts or in the IMs or whereever! I’m absolutely convinced that you are a great person, and I am delighted that we are mutuals and can interact so nicely!

@legaxies ~ I wasn’t sure if maybe I shouldn’t include you since from how much I can tell it seems you are at the moment more focused onto that theme-sideblog you have and I told myself to not include those that aren’t really active at the moment - but I felt like I had to! I wanted to say that I’m really happy for the things we started, and that I have a lot of fun talking to you when we do! I’m very much enjoying the potential relationships we have started on, and I look forward to hopefully continuing them in some way eventually! (This of course is not meant as pushing you to work on replies or whatever, please don’t understand me wrong here; I just mean this in a way of, if we do get to continue it - if not that’s totally fine too!) You’re doing great with any of your characters (as much as I can judge with not that much knowledge), and I’m happy that we’re mutuals! It’s a joy to interact with you, so, thank you!

@featherchan ~ You’re interacting with me, or did in the past, on pretty much all my muses (I think not on Starlight? But outside of that on all I think), and that means a lot to me! We have some really cool plots going, and you joined in on that event-au-thing I did all that time back too, so that’s very great, and I wanted to say thanks! Our interactions are always fun and I’m happy to write with and talk to you!

@thedoctornumber11 ~ Throughout my time being here, you’re pretty much the only one of the world of Doctor Who that I got interactions going with (I think there was someone on Wildfire once too, but not for very long iirc), and I really enjoy that! I wanted to include you here too because I wanted to say that I’m very very grateful for the nice words or explanations you sometimes throw onto my posts, and for the things you send in to me, and yes just for all of it! Thank you!

@flashgotthis ~ I love our things so much! All the interactions that we did so far were really really really cool, still are, and they often last really long too, and it’s just absolutely wonderful! You’re also one of those that aren’t only talented writers, but also really great artists, and I admire that skill so much! I’m delighted that we are mutuals and interaction-partners, and I look forward to what’s still to come! You’re amazing!

@graceful-cure-swan / @rosecoloredmuses (mostly tagging your sideblog as well to give it, like, some sort of indirect promoing here) ~ You are great! I feel so bad for all the many things you sent me whereas I barely ever send you (or anyone else, for that matter) anything at all, but, I’m also really grateful that you do it, so - thank you! I’m enjoying our interactions very much, I think that both Tsubasa and your other characters are done really well (even if I don’t know that much about each of them or can compare them to their canon versions much), and you’re a lot of fun to interact with! You also give my sideblogs and OCs a chance too, which means very much to me too, so yeah, I’m very grateful to have you as my mutual!

@eterniita ~ We’ve been interacting throughout a few of your blogs already, and I enjoy our interactions! I think you put a lot of love and thought into your characters, and they are great, and our threads are a lot of fun! I haven’t yet checked out your remade blog of your canons again, but I intend to and most likely follow you there again, too! I hope we will still get to more wonderful interactions!

@merveiilles​ ~ I’m so happy that we’re interacting! I love our threads a lot and I’m enjoying every reply that I get or write! You have a lot of characters and it’s really impressive that you do them (as far as I can tell/know them) so well! Your art, that you occasionally post, is also really really amazing and it’s very wonderful that you are so talented! I am very thankful for the nice words that you put onto my posts every now and then, and I am delighted by the threads and connections we are having between our muses!

@symbioteburnout​ ~ I don’t feel like I can say very much here (yet), but I wanted to include you too! I enjoy the things that we got going so far, and going from what I see from you about her I think Andi is a interesting character! It’s always wonderful to me, when people put the effort into characters who might not get as much time to shine in canon as others. Thanks for replying to my opens every now and then, and just in general for being my mutual and interacting with me!

@titansandothersrp​ / @robynrpmain (Now I’m getting frustrated at tumblr again for not letting me tag your main) ~ You are really cool! You’re a great artist, I love to see your work, and our threads are very entertaining! I feel like you’re doing very well in giving the characters you play as more story, more... I don’t know the right word here. Just, that you make them ‘more’, and that’s a really awesome thing. And yeah, like said, you also do art which I think looks really good, and I just absolutely admire people who can do art so well. Thanks for being mutuals and interacting with me!

---

So, and as a nice little bit of words at the end, I guess~ I’m very honored by anyone of you who’s actually interested in me and my writing, I’m thankful and glad to have you around, and I’m looking forward to more amazing things to come in the future with all of you!

[onyourzeus]

• with you | kwp

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: with you  pairing: kim wonpil (of day6) & you genre: flufffffff words: 2.9k

author’s note: requested by this anon asking for a lazy day with wonpil + some possibility of a food fight due to baking (i tweaked it a little bit, i hope you don’t mind)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

lazy days with wonpil are the best. it doesn’t happen often, though, because he rarely gets to spend this much time with you

you’ve been relying on voice messages, long texts and the occasional video calls before and during their subunit comeback promotions

granted you were super excited and absolutely stunned by their performances

not to mention the songs in the album are amazing, you have always been supportive of wonpil’s career

ever since you’ve known him, music has always been his top priority. he’s taught you so much of what he’s learned throughout the years being a trainee and a musician in his own right

albeit you doubt you’d ever reach his level of proficiency when it came to understanding music

you’re content just watching him sing, admiring the way he plays the piano so effortlessly, and being so damn lucky to be part of this important journey with him

but of course, it pains you to be so far away, long distance never gets better no matter what they say

as much as you follow along his schedules as a day6 member, you’d be lying to yourself if you said the end of promotions is your actual favorite part of it all

it means that wonpil has some free time to spare, and usually he likes to spend it with you 

this weekend, you knew he didn’t have a lot on his agenda. you’ve specifically cleared the whole two days, logged off on all social media just so your attention can be focused solely on your significant other 

you’ve been giddy all morning, waiting for wonpil to arrive at your place in mere minutes 

when the two of you haven’t seen each other in a while, wonpil personally likes to have you all to himself in a space where no one can bother the two of you. this is why he doesn’t like you going over to their apartment

dowoon doesn’t have a sense of personal space or can he take a hint that wonpil doesn’t want anyone coming into the room when he’s just snuggling with you

so it’s a win win situation overall to have him in your place instead. the clothes he had left in the bottom drawer hasn’t been worn in a while by him. 

(you’re afraid his scent would come off soon if you keep wearing his sweaters and pjs)

you hear the knock on the door and excitedly dash for it, seeing wonpil in the flesh with…

flowers!! 

“hi,” he greets you shyly, the smile on his face neverending, only growing wider as you try your best to embrace him without squishing the gift he has in hand

“i missed you sooooooooo much,” you squeal, immersing yourself in the warmth of his body and his hand pressing against your back 

it feels like forever since you last saw him, so you want to hug him just as long 

“babe, babe— okay, baby, i can’t breathe!!” he laughs, jokingly coughing as he wiggles his way out of your death grasp. you’re not apologetic, only pouting while sliding your fingers in between his free hands 

“do you want to invite me in?” he asks, the sass in his voice unavoidable and you’d like to slap it out of him

but this is what you missed, so you tugged at his hands and welcomed him in your apartment

“are these for me??” he hands you over the bouquet, recognizing instantly the camellia flowers delicately arranged. he doesn’t answer, only letting his pressed lips resisting its way to a smile tell you how it is

“thank you,” you say to him anyway, reluctant but giving in to what you’ve always wanted to do for so long. 

you kiss his cheek, and it feels all so familiar but new at the same time

he gasps for a moment, brows raised up as if in mock offense but steals a quick kiss on your lips before you can question his silly antics 

“thought you could get away with that huh”

and this is what you truly missed being with wonpil, side by side. the way he sheds off that introverted persona online and really ease into his comfortable ways with you. he’s full of love, of course, but there are times when he is subtly teasing with you as a form of affection

you place the camellias in an empty vase you find inside a cabinet. the two of you didn’t necessarily plan out what to do for the day, and that’s usually the case when he spends his free time here

“i just want to be in bed and… cuddle,” wonpil would confess, winning you over with his doe eyes. nine times out of ten, it works

but today you want to talk with him, catch up on what you’ve missed while he was busy with performing and going on variety shows. and wonpil complies because even though he loves just being lazy with you, having his arms enclosing your figure and dozing off that way

one thing he loves to do is also talk. and there’s so much to talk about! 

you share the couch with him, and wonpil instinctively opens up his arms so he can wrap them around your waist

he puts up his legs on the coffee table, and waits for you to say something

“oh? this is allowed now?” he perks up and you turn your head to look at him, tongue darting out in response

“just because i need your scent to be in every corner of this place as much as possible”

“that’s…. a little gross, babe” 

sue you for missing him that much!!! 

but that didn’t really bother you, in fact you lift your own legs up to rest on his. as you guys find a comfortable lying position, finally you ask wonpil how he has been doing

you’ve probably already heard most of his stories through his messages and voice calls beforehand

but nothing beats listening to wonpil talk in person, and to watch him do it with your own very eyes

it’s something special that you want to keep for yourself, you understand that wonpil has to connect to his fans too. he goes on vlives, writes instagram posts directly addressing mydays, and just overall be relatable to them

and… it gets to you a little bit, not gonna lie. there’s so much of him that he gives to others, yet he doesn’t see it that way 

you’re sometimes afraid that he’ll be seen as too fragile and be an easy target to break 

but over the years you’ve known wonpil, you have only seen him get stronger. be more thick skinned, and it’s an admiring feat 

“were you even listening to what i said?” 

“about dowoon overreaching his leader status even after promos? yep, sounds like him” 

wonpil looks utterly surprised, and you return his expression with a more menacing version 

he bursts into laughter right at your face, and if you didn’t enjoy him tightening his grasp around you, you’d shove him off on the floor

“wonpil why do u keep laughing at me!!”

“you just have that face” 

wow what a way to compliment your s/o thanks buddy” 

“hey now,” he lets out the last few chuckles bubbling in his system, releases one arm around you to poke your nose with his finger. “thats the kind of face i love for a partner” 

“well then consider yourself lucky,” you pout, and wonpil’s eyes shine even brighter

“i am.” 

there isn’t a lot more that happens that day, you guys really took “lazying around” in its most literal form

since the couch is a pull out, wonpil helped you with setting it up and placing bedsheets on it while you grab the blanket from your room 

he suggests if he can take a nap for an hour or two which resulted to a cuddling session before you both dozed off

the curtains on the windows to the side of the living room were drawn out, so the late afternoon sun found its way to the inside of your place

it was warm, it hit your cheek when you turned over so you decided to just lay in bed facing wonpil

when you’d be in and out of sleep, you see your boyfriend’s peaceful face just a kiss away from you

and so you do just that… kiss his lips softly as to not disturb him… you take it upon yourself to take in his features slowly while you can and

it’s such a sight to behold

nevermind the dark shadows forming underneath his eyes or the subtle stress lines on his forehead 

you make it a point to do a self care skincare routine with him tonight. he’d enjoy the new volcanic mask you bought to try out

but setting that aside, wonpil is still so beautiful to you. you understand, out of all people, how so many have fallen for him too

hips lips that produce one of the most hauntingly elegant voices you’ve heard, his cheeks that paints a blushing rose when he’s being effortlessly cute, his eyes that glimmer whenever he’s having fun

however right now he has them closed, relaxed, as his chest breaths in and breathes out

you snuggle even closer to him, putting your cheek up against where his heart should lay, and listen to the beat of his heart

you feel your own pounding in the still of the apartment, only a faint bustling hum of reality outside your window

and as the sun shines on wonpil’s face this time, he slowly wakes up and you will yourself not too look

as you feel him shuffle while repositioning his arms that have encircled you all this time

“you awake?” he asks groggily, his sleepy hoarse voice sending you shivers down your spine

you can’t help but smile silly against his clothes

“mmm” is your response

“psst” he whispers in your ear, caressing the sides of your hair in a lulling manner

before you get too comfortable with his affection, you slowly pull yourself away and look at him

and you can never get used to it, to him

“i really, really missed you,” he mouths, almost inaudible, but you know it in your heart 

suffice to say the two of you didn’t get up right away

now that it’s nearing sunset, you ask if he wants to get dinner or cook at home

“what if we bake”

“oh,” that wasn’t really in your mind, but why not? this means you get to spend more time with him, and it’s a great bonding experience. the two of you rarely do this sort of thing. sometimes he’s ask to cook for you, only to phone his mom during the whole process to help out

in the end of that conversation, though, wonpil would approach you if you were in the room or hanging out on the couch, attack you with those puppy dog eyes of him 

“eomma hung up on me. says i should already know how to make stew without her help”

“do you need my help then, wonpil?”

“yes pls “ :c 

so with baking, it’s perfect, because you guys can tag team

you settle on making brownies, craving some chocolate for tonight. you pull up a recipe on your ipad for reference 

“babe where’s the butter,” wonpil asks behind you, rummaging his way through your fridge

“on the side, next to the cheese,” you tell him as you focus on reading through the ingredients

“... where’s the cheese”

“top shelf, wonpil,” you laugh, turning to see him struggling with messing around the many jars and miscellaneous stuff you have in your fridge

“ah, this needs to be more organized baby,” wonpil chastises you, finally finding what he was looking for

“sorry,” you sheepishly grin, but help him with the remaining ingredients

now that you have everything laid out, baking with him is.. a wild ride

you thought the cooperation between you would fall into a field of familiarity, but wonpil’s eagerness to do everything and have you just be sort of his “assistant” is bugging you a bit 

“i can mix this in—”

“no no no, i got it. you’ll see, i got this” 

“but wonpil—”

“no no no,” he repeats, holding onto an egg as he shakes his head at you

“see this? it’ll get cracked with one hand, just you wait” the smug expression on him just looks to adorable not to react to, but you know if you say something he’ll take it in a different manner. you keep your mouth shut and let him do his thing

he takes a second, three, five seconds before finally cracking the egg on the edge of the bowl

and spilling it all over the counter before he got the chance to put it all in

that’s your cue to laugh as wonpil stands there to take in the shame

and walk it off by washing his hands and wiping the mess

you didn’t mean to be so loud about his mistake, but you see wonpil blushing hard with his arms crossed

and you just know you crossed the line

“wonpiriiiii” you whine, trying to take his hands in yours. he won’t budge, not even looking your way 

“it was an accident, you can just crack it with a fork or something” he relents as you sway your arms side to side, an attempt to calm him down and reassure him it’s nothing serious

and you actually love him more 

“yeah but i wanted to impress you”

if only you knew wonpil

“you impress me every day just knowing you’re with me,” you tell him, and the cheesiness sends him gagging mockingly 

the two of you would continue clowning each other while preparing the brownie mixture 

taking turns with cracking the eggs, even at one point having a seriously uncalled for juggling competition with two eggs 

that you immediately stop once you realize you don’t have back up eggs if this fails badly

at one point the brownie mixture has finally been combined, and you’re about to ask wonpil for the tray when you see him dip his finger in the bowl and pop it in his mouth

“mmm,” he reacts, before slowly reaching in to take another dip

“DUDE DON’T DOUBLE DIP” too late, he had already contaminated the bowl and was on his way to smear chocolate on your cheek 

you didn’t even have time to speak his death sentence

the deed has been done, the cheek has been smeared as your nose sniff at the chocolatey smell on your face

“oh it’s on, wonpil”

“no it’s not,” he counters, and he’s already laughing with his pointer finger still up in the air, remnants of chocolate still coating around the skin 

you want to approach it the same way he did, but you needed to go big

bringing the whisk filled with a gooey chocolate mess, you lift it up and take a slow, careful step towards wonpil

his laughter died down and is followed by a gulp down his throat

“you won’t dare, baby. i love you, i love you so much—”

“your words mean nothing right now, pil,” you say as sweetly as you can, comically licking some of the mixture that has traveled down the side of your lips. wonpil stared at your tongue, confused at his emotions right now

should he be turned on? threatened? 

he doesn’t get another second to think as you basically paint the whole side of his cheek with chocolate

“i feel better now” you say in between your own fits of laughter, pointing the whisk at wonpil’s sorry face as he just stands there

taking in what just happened

so yeah, y’all don’t get to bake what’s left of the brownie mixture until… after so much of it has ruined your clothes, and the kitchen counter

fortunately, as the poorly spread out brownie mixture bakes in the oven, you and wonpil get to

share a bath together :) 

maybe it was his plan all along because the smirk on his face doesn’t leave at all while you wash each other up

bath foam on his hair, on your nose

soapy kisses, the works

you’d indulge being skin to skin with wonpil this way, soaked in warm water with the smell of mint in the air from your body wash

you couldn’t take too long in the bath though as the brownies baked for a short period of time

“do you really choose brownies over me right now, babe? really?”

“wonpil the apartment will burn down if we don’t take them out of the oven”

…”

“okay point taken”

you finish up in the shower, put on your bathrobe and dry off your hands to hurry and take the tray out the oven

the brownies don’t look half-bad and evidence of the food fight you and wonpil didn’t even seem like it happened (courtesy to him voluntarily wiping everything down as you ran the bath quickly) 

“so is this dinner?” wonpil asks, walking towards you with his matching robe around him

“how about some take out for now?” you suggest sheepishly, hunger calling out to you already

he agrees, and calls your favorite restaurant for some food

the two of you then spend the rest of the night eating rice from take out boxes and dumplings on the pull out sofa bed, never ending conversations of everything in life accompanying the hum of background tv noise 

y’all even forget to eat the brownies as the dumplings and noodles had filled you up more than you thought

and that’s how you basically spent the first day he’s back with you, and the second is just the same

with more cuddling, sharing the shower, and enjoying every moment with him :) (less food fights though, he’s found out your sheer determination about such things… terrifying)

[oboevallis]

Can you write a story (set in your unexpected universe) where Addison and her new friend has a play date but Amelia is heavily pregnant so she’s very tired and Link tells her she should just call the play date off but she doesn’t and they fight (but it’s resolved at the end) I hope this makes sense love your fics btw :)

perfect

thank you so much, you don’t know how much this means to me!!! i kind of went off the prompt, i hope you like it though. i have a lot of prompts in my inbox and i promise im not ignoring them i just have trouble finishing fics, so im very sorry if you’ve left a prompt a long time ago and it hasn’t been answered i appreciate them so much though!!! i hope everyone’s doing well and staying safe, and im very sorry again

"You're up early." Link remarked as he walked into the kitchen. "Especially for your day off."

"Couldn't really sleep last night, and Addie's friend is coming over in an hour."

"Is that the best idea? Especially if you didn't get much sleep last night?"

"I'll be just fine." Amelia dismissed.

"You can't be over exerting yourself. Remember what happened last time? Addie came early because you were stressed?"

"I'm not going to be over exerting, they usually just sit there and color or read books."

"I know your excited about Addie having a friend, but I don't want you hurting yourself." Link sighed, annoyed with his stubborn wife's behavior.

"I'm in no mood to argue."

"Well good for you, I'm not trying to argue with you. I just want you to be cautious." Amelia rolled her eyes in response while Link wrapped his arms under her bump, trying to alleviate the weight.

"Mmhh, thank you." The neurosurgeon moaned in relief, and leaned her head back on his shoulder. "And I promise I won't over exert myself."

"Thank you. I'll probably be home a little after lunch, it's a light day just gotta do my pre and post ops." Link reassured as he gently let go of her bump, causing Amelia to groan. The couple then heard a pair of little feet run down the stairs.

"I'm sooooooooo excited." Addison told her parents when she spotted them in the kitchen.

"Really? I didn't notice." Link chuckled as he picked up his daughter and spun her around causing her to squeal with laughter. "Be good for your mom, please."

"I will." Addie nodded as her father placed her down onto the floor.

"Okie dokie, I'll see you guys later." Link smiled as he shut the door behind him.

______________________________________

"Mommy." Scout smiled when he spotted his mother on the couch.

"Hey, my sweet boy. What are you up to?" Amelia asked holding out her arms for the boy.

"I'm bored." The boy complained. "I wish Harrison could've come over today. I have no one to play with because Benny and Addie are playing together."

"I'm sorry kiddo. You can hang out with me though. I think I'm pretty fun."

"I guess so." Scout sighed leaning into his mother's embrace. "Want to play catch outside?"

"Is there anything else that we can do?" Amelia asked, knowing she was too tired.

"Not really." The mother felt guilty, since the news of her latest pregnancy she felt as though she wasn't giving her son enough attention.

"We can go swinging together?" The boy seemed to consider this and accepted. He made his way outside while his mother went to check on the two kids. She found them coloring in the playroom, engrossed with conversation not even realizing she was there. "I'll be outside with your brother if you guys need anything."

"Okay, mommy." Addie smiled looking up at her mother before she returned to coloring.

Once Amelia made her way to the backyard she was surprised to see her son sitting on one of the lounge chairs instead of the swings. "Why aren't you swinging?"

"I want to just sit here with you." Scout confessed, this warmed his mother's heart. She walked over and laid on the chair, embracing him. The two sat in comfortable silence until he spoke up again. "Mom, do you remember when Addie was in your belly and you told me I had a brother?"

"Oh." Amelia's voice caught, her son was only three at the time she told him that, she was surprised he still remembered. "Yeah, umm I remember. Why?"

"Do you miss him?"

"I do. Everyday."

"Do you think you'll ever stop missing him?"

"It's been a long time. I've had a long time to process it, but it doesn't mean I still don't miss him."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amelia smiled through the tears forming at her eyes and kissed the top of her sons head. "I love you so much. I also think your the best big brother, and I don't tell you that enough."

"I love you too." Scout answered falling into his mother's embrace.

"And I love you guys more." Link said walking into the backyard.

"Finish all your work?"

"Yep, all my patients are doing good. And Addie and Benny are playing penguins."

"I'm so glad she has a friend." Amelia smiled happily as her husband leaned down to kiss her.

"Me too, but you look exhausted. How about you go to sleep."

"Thank you." She stood up from the chair, as her son jumped up to play catch with his dad. As much as she hated to admit when she was tired, after the conversation she had with her son she was exhausted and all she could think about was getting some sleep.

________________________________________

"Can I ask what you and Scout were talking about today? You seemed, I don't know upset." Link asked as he got into bed with his wife.

"He asked about Christopher."

"How'd that go?"

"It was okay I guess. It just caught me off guard." Link nodded, unsure of what to say. He placed soothing circles onto her bump. "I didn't know he even remembered that conversation."

"He's a smart kid, he listens, pays attention."

"Addie was so happy today." Amelia smiled, desperately wanting to change the conversation.

"I've never seen two kids be able to talk about penguins like that, how much is there really to talk about?"

"I don't know how they do it." Amelia giggled as she laid on his chest. "And it seems like she's been making new friends at the book club."

"I'm so proud of her. And Scout."

"I have no idea how we made much perfect kids."

"Well we're us, of course we made perfect kids." Amelia nudged him in response causing them both to laugh.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being with me, making our perfect kids with me."

"Anytime." Link smiled before kissing his wife.

[ironharvests]

♡ + kawogi, kimigaa, utagura, this was the hardest decision in my entire life

SEND ME ♡ + A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…

kawogi.

Who is the most affectionate?

kawaki, for sure. ryogi is affectionate in his own way, but it's lots of teasing touches, linked pinkies while walking, and resting his head on your shoulder in private. kawaki, on the other hand, will straight up pick ryogi up and haul him to the couch so he can have some human contact.

Who initiates the handholding?

hmmmmm. the first time they hold hands i think ryogi brushes fingers with kawaki a bunch until he finally just takes kawaki's hand, because kawaki is too uncertain to cross that barrier without explicit permission. but after that, kawaki will seek out ryogi's hand when wanted.

Who worries more for the other?

ryogi. he isn't a goddamn alien-karma-infused super soldier or whatever. he's just a guy being a dude, damn it. he worries a lot when kawaki's off doing who knows what.

Who is more likely to ask for help?

[laughs in bitch] ryogi asking for help he actually needs instead of something superficial? please. kawaki asks, but he can be grumpy (read: embarassed) about it until ryogi says it's fine.

Who is the one always losing the keys?

kawaki. ryogi's neat in the "i keep everything on my person so i can escape at any time" way. kawaki puts things down in one place and then walks away. it's a little maddening for ryogi.

Who leaves little love notes for the other?

ryogi! he enjoys leaving physical reminders of his feelings to be remembered when they're apart, which is a lot.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there?

kawaki. ryogi's used to sleeping on his own, and is very comfortable doing so. kawaki gets attached to sleeping in the same bed with ryog, so when he's gone he struggles.

Who is more likely to propose to the other?

probably kawaki? ryogi isn't a traditional relationship guy, and i think kawaki might have some anxiety about that -- or he just likes the idea of tying the knot and making their relationship feel concrete. kawaki also feels like he "owes" something to people he dates, and for ryogi that means some form of stability.

Who introduced the other to their family first?

i think you mean the uzumakis introduced themselves to ryogi lol.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair?

ryogi plays with kawaki's. it's so weird and fun to touch.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

ryogi. food is his ultimate love language.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

if you look at ryogi wrong kawaki will bury you alive.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

ryogi. he's into surprises and there's always something special going on when he visits.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

kawaki. he takes them seriously. ryogi humors him initially (then went off and did dangerous stuff anyways), but eventually he stops and abides by the sacred pinkie promise treaty.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

ryogi. kawaki conks out on the couch and ryogi covers him up and sits beside him on the couch for awhile while he reads.

kimigaa.

Who is the most affectionate?

oh boy. kimimaro? but only in freak ways, like staring at gaara for 30 minutes while only blinking with his second pair of clear vertical eyelids, or washing gaara's hair for him despite his insistence on doing it himself. things like that. kimimaro's affection looks a lot like service and care-taking. they're working on it.

Who initiates the handholding?

gaara. kimimaro would never touch gaara unless given explicit permission, and even then it's something he does the way a miko would cleanse a shrine.

Who worries more for the other?

in battle? neither of them worries about the other. they're bad as hell and they know it. otherwise, gaara worries about kimimaro's health. it can abruptly decline and there's nothing they can do but wait it out. at least kimimaro is good about stating when he isn't feeling well, although it's often in the form of "i am experiencing cardiac palpitations" before collapsing.

Who is more likely to ask for help?

kimimaro. he knows his limitations and isn't ashamed.

Who is the one always losing the keys?

neither of them.

Who leaves little love notes for the other?

neither. kimimaro doesn't write super well, understandably, so writing isn't his thing. gaara is more likely to find strange gifts on his desk, like a piece of antler, or a glowing frog in a jar.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there?

gaara. he can't sleep most of the time, but kimimaro has learned to, uh, put his ass to sleep.

Who is more likely to propose to the other?

neither. marriage who? the council probably wouldn't be down with gaara marrying the guy who helped kill rasa and worked with orochimaru. kimimaro doesn't care about marriage anyways; he belongs to gaara in his heart(s), and that's what counts.

Who introduced the other to their family first?

kimimaro was caught in the kazekage's home and arrested by temari on sight until gaara explained. does that count?

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair?

hm. both. gaara touches kimimaro's hair when he's sleepy, and kimimaro likes to smell gaara's hair when gaara's asleep.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

neither. you think they eat like normal people?

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

kimimaro has literally stabbed people for raising their voice to the kazekage. so. there's that.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

hm. hmm. hmmm. i don't think kimimaro would prepare a suprise, he's more of a "i brought you something insane and set it at your feet like a giant kitty cat." so it's either gaara, or, more realistically, gaara's assistant, who schedules all of gaara's everything.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

neither. they don't say things they don't mean. their word is their bond.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

kimimaro picks gaara up and tucks him into bed, then sits in front of the door for six hours.

utagura.

Who is the most affectionate?

physically it's utakata, although it's more teasing than straight up affectionate. yagura is the one who drops L-bombs and what not because utakata's too much of a pussy to use his words for the first year or two they're together.

Who initiates the handholding?

utakata. he watches yagura rile himself up about something totally unimportant, then tangles their fingers together and watches the knot in yagura's neck unfurl.

Who worries more for the other?

yagura. utakata is a walking, talking Very Special Episode on substance abuse, and every time he walks out the door yagura's 85% sure he's going to wind up dead in a ditch.

Who is more likely to ask for help?

neither. they don't Do That unless it's dire, at which point yagura will ask before utakata. utakata gets help for things that don't matter, like getting housewives to cover his dinner tab.

Who is the one always losing the keys?

utakata. he's a poet, scholar, and blunt smoker, man. his brain is not in the building most days.

Who lives little love notes for the other?

utakata. he leaves little poems tucked in places for yagura to find when he's going to be gone for long trips, or, honestly, just because. saying how he feels aloud has been beaten out of utakata, so it's easier to write a poem at 3 am and tuck it in yagura's underwear drawer than to shake him awake and tell him he's the only reason utakata's still alive, sooooooooo.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there?

both. utakata has bad insomnia and hallucinations sometimes, and yagura has genjutsu trauma. sleeping together is an anchor tethering them to the one reality that is finally good to them.

Who is more likely to propose to the other?

utakata, surprisingly, because he knows how much it would mean to yagura.

Who introduced the other to their family first?

[strained laughter for 45 minutes] they work very hard to forget each other's families, thank you.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair?

yagura. when utakata is feeling overstimulated and can't handle touch but yagura needs some creature comfort, hair is a good alternative.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

yagura. utakata would filter feed on pond water if he could just perfect the jutsu. he's one of those freaks who think eating is a waste of time/inconvenience.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

both. they will both stand up for each other, because they won't stand up for themselves when it matters.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

hmmmm. on a daily basis, yagura. small surprises and whatnot. on a macroscale, utakata. he knows these things matter to yagura, and he applies every ounce of his brilliance to crafting signature, special moments just for yagura, including private fireworks displays, a picnic under the ocean, and creating and naming jutsus for and after his beloved awabi.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

as children, it was yagura. they might have some holdover as adults.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

utakata. yagura works himself into a frenzy then poops out on the couch, and it's up to utakata to cover him up or carry him to bed; usually the latter.

[meetthetank]

Starved

Rating: General AudiencesArchive Warning: No Archive Warnings ApplyCategory: F/M Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Steve Burnside/Claire Redfield, Steve Burnside & Alexia Ashford (kind of) Characters: Steve Burnside, Claire Redfield, Alexia Ashford (kind of), Jill Valentine Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Post RE Rev2, Therapy Group - Freeform, Read A/N for more context, Steve is a sad sad man who missed out on A Lot, Angst, Subtle love languages Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29232369 Summary: Months after being rescued from his second island prison, Steve Burnside tries to adjust to a normal life while dealing with the scars left both physically and mentally. Luckily, he has some help. Notes: Sooooooooo here's the thing. There were worms in my brain. Real bad. So this is like... a manifestation of a longfic that I want to write later down the road. Some things to know before going in. 1) Steve revived on an island meant to store "failed" B.O.W. experiments that was left abandoned. He was there for a year and some change. 2) Allie is a child clone of Alexia who was in the same facility and befriended him. They live together and Steve is her legal guardian. 3) Jill runs a victims of B.O.W. experimentation which includes Steve, Manuela, Sherry, herself, and some others. I think that's everything but if yall have anymore questions feel free to ask. This is incredibly self indulgent to write but I hope you guys enjoy it too. 

“Please stop pacing,” Allie sighs, “You look like a caged beast.”

Steve glares at the child, a clone of the insane woman who killed him, as she sips her tea at the other side of their flat. She glares back, her hazel eyes sharp as ever. She’s waiting for him to retort so she can shoot him down with a smart ass remark like a shark circling a drowning bird. When all she gets is an indignant huff she sips her tea and rolls her eyes.

“You do this every time she comes over. If she didn’t run away at the first sight of your ghastly visage she’s not going to run now.”

Steve sighs, “Yeah, but-“

“What absurd thing are you putting in your own head this time?” Allie snaps, setting her dainty pink teacup next to her stuffed dragon, “You’re going to stink up the room if you think too hard.”

He tunes out the insults with a scowl, but Steve knows the kid is right. He’s thinking way too much about this. Claire didn’t run away screaming the first time they met since he came back, she’s not going to do it for the seventh.

Even still, as Steve passes by the mirror in the front room he jumps at his own reflection. The person inside doesn’t look like him, it doesn’t feel like him. Their ginger hair isn’t wild and tangled, it’s washed, brushed and tied up in a small ponytail. Their shocking green eyes aren’t sunken into their sockets, and there’s a splash of red sunburn on their skin. He can even see a smattering of freckles across their nose and cheeks. They look like a stranger, but the deep, ragged scars across his face remind him of his past. The biggest and ugliest of the marks starts well above his hairline, drops down over his right eye and curls over his lips. A few smaller ones run across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, but they aren’t nearly as deep.

He always thought scars were sexy when he was a kid. Manly. The marks of some action hero or badass. Now they just… Make him look tired and scared.

A small hand grabs onto one of his. “Did you take your medicine today?” Allie asks without a trace of her previous vitriol.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m out of the anxiety pills. Ms. Valentine said she’s going to bring them over when she comes to pick you up.”

“Okay.” Allie says with a curt nod.

“You got everything for your field trip?” Steve meanders over to the kitchen again, eager to change the subject.

“Can I have some spending money?”

He raises an eyebrow, “How much and what for?”

“Fifty for museum books.” Allie puts her hands on her hips and glares up at her guardian with defiance sparkling in her eyes.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, “Twenty.”

Allie lifts her chin, “Forty-five.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty-five and I buy you a cool rock from the Natural History Museum.”

“Deal.”

With negotiations done (and Steve down forty-five bucks) the only thing left to do is wait. He switches the tv on to drown out his own thoughts. Some hockey game. It’s not his team so he doesn’t care too much, but it’s a comforting familiarity. At least sports didn’t change too much since ‘98.

Steve let’s himself zone out as much as he can to the game. At one point he thinks about getting a beer but decides against it. He’d probably have one or two with Claire at dinner. That, and his meds don’t mix well with alcohol if he hasn’t eaten. So instead he bounces his leg, bites his nails, and busies his hands with whatever he can reach.

Did he used to be like this? It’s hard for him to remember past his awakening and even harder to think past Rockfort. He was a neurotic mess out of necessity on the Storage Facility Island, a place where any sound could be death, and Rockfort was a similar story with the addition of his teenage bravado, but before he was taken? He barely remembers what his parents looked like, let alone what social masks he had to put on. Steve lets out a long, quiet sigh. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s like this now, and that’s all he needs to know. At least now he has a support system.

Just as Steve starts to calm down, the doorbell rings.

He jumps out of his chair and bolts to the front door, heart in his throat and stomach upside down. His hands begin to shake as he reaches for the knob-

“Hi, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve sighs, a bit too loudly judging by the way the visitor raises an eyebrow, “Hey, Jill.”

She gives him a warm, knowing smile as she fumbles with her shoulder bag. “Claire coming over today?”

“Yeah.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, “That easy to tell?”

Jill laughs, “Careful now, Redfields can smell fear.” She hands him a paper bag from the local drugstore, “Here. I know you said you were out of the anxiety meds, but I got everything refilled for you.”

“Oh! Uh, thanks!” He tosses the bag across the room to the chair he had just left. “So what museums are you hitting today?”

“All depends on our little cruise director.” Jill says with a small laugh, “Speaking of-”

Allie brushes past Steve, the charms on her backpack jingling with each step. “Air and Space and Botanical Gardens! Oh, and Natural History too. I promised I’d buy Steve a cool rock.”

“Easily bribed, I see.” Jill smirks at him quickly, then turns her attention back to Allie, “Sounds like a deal, kiddo.”

Eager to get on her way, Allie all but jumps out of the door and runs to where two more members of their little therapy group, Manuela and Sherry, wait. Both women greet her with smiles and hugs, and she wastes no time in launching into sharing things she had learned since the last time they had spoken.

“I’d stick around,” Jill says as she backtracks to the group, “But I feel like if I wait any longer there’s going to be a mutiny.”

The rumbling of a motorcycle echoes down the street, and Jill turns back to Steve with a quick smirk.

“Besides, you have company.”

Jill darts over to the group, casting a wave back to Steve and over to the biker before motioning to the ladies to begin their trek. Steve watches with wide eyes and a thundering heart as the biker dismounts and pulls off their helmet, revealing short auburn hair and stunning blue eyes. She gathers up a few plastic bags from her bike before jogging over to him, while he stands there like a deer in headlights.

“Hey, Steve!” She says with a bright, radiant smile and shoves some of her bags in his hands.

“W- Hey, Claire.” He fumbles with the grocery bags, “What’s all this?”

“Dinner. Figured making our own burgers would be better than ordering out.” Claire explains and shuffles inside the door as Steve moves aside for her. “And more fun.”

Though Steve can’t deny her claim, he also can’t fight the apprehension that coils in his stomach. He can cook, sure, he had to or die on the island, but he has no idea how to use any of the kitchen gadgets Jill’s group and Terra-Save set him up with. None of it is as simple as a slapdash firepit and some scraps of metal. Maybe if he’s lucky Claire will know what to do and he can just chop vegetables or something. The last thing he wants to do is make more of a fool of himself.

“Uh, sure!” He blinks his thoughts away, shuts the door and retrieves his bag of medicine from the chair.

By the time Steve turns back towards his kitchen, Claire is already busy setting up groceries and making herself at home. He watches her take off her heavy bomber jacket, revealing a thinner red and black flannel, and set it on the back of a chair at the kitchen table. She drops her plastic bags on the counter and grabs a beer out of his fridge; she looks like she’s been coming here for months. Something about the image before him makes Steve’s chest tighten. He’s not sure if it’s a bad feeling or not.

“-Steve?”

“Huh?” He snaps out of his stupor with a jolt.

Claire wiggles the opened bottle in her hand, “Did you want one?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” He stammers and rubs the back of his neck but walks across the room to take the beer. Maybe he did need something to settle his nerves after all.

Claire smiles at him like she’s known him all his life, like she knows what’s going on in his head and she understands why he’s so awkward and nervous around her. What was it that Jill said before? Redfields can smell fear? He knows it’s a joke but the way Claire seems to understand his fidgeting and hesitation leaves him wondering if there’s some kind of truth to it. A few gulps of beer (technically a hard cider, his first beer made him vomit) gives him enough bravado to at least go into the small kitchen with her.

Thankfully, she doesn’t ask him to work any of the gadgets. Claire’s hands glide over buttons and knobs, setting temperatures on his stove and placing pans. She directs Steve to break the ingredients out of the bags. Ground beef, cheese, brioche buns, vegetables, and a myriad of spices.

“This is a lot for just burgers, isn’t it?” He asks, mouth full of stolen tomato.

“Come on now, you know I wouldn’t do just burgers.” Claire laughs a bit, a sound that makes Steve’s heart stop. “This is an ancient Redfield family recipe.”

“Should I be worried?” Steve can’t help but smile back. She has this way about her that makes him feel lighter, like everything takes a backseat to just… being around her. He can joke, come out of his shell a little. She won’t hurt him.

Claire giggles at him, “It’s the way our dad used to make them. Chris held onto the secret ingredient till he was… Thirty something I think. I basically had to interrogate him for it.”

He raises an eyebrow and grins devilishly, “So...what’s the secret?”

“Oh, just a blend of spices.” She shrugs, “Nothing that inventive. But it’s special to Chris, so don’t go telling him I told you.”

Claire winks at him then turns back to mashing the ground beef into patties, leaving Steve to gawk at her. She’s delightfully impish when she wants to be, he can see himself getting into all sorts of flirtatious teasing matches with her… if he weren’t so weird. She directs him to chop up the tomatoes and onions after she catches him staring, again with a playful smirk and slug to his shoulder.

Something he had to become good at while on that remote island, alone aside from Allie and the wild B.O.Ws, was how to observe. The more he watches Claire out of his peripheral, the more she reveals to him. He watches the way her face falls as she focuses on the burger patties, as if she gets lost in her own thoughts and forgets where she is for a split second. It isn’t hard for him to see the sadness she hides from the world, it’s the same kind as one he carries. The reason Steve still roots for his hockey team, or even still watches the sport is because it reminds him of his dad. It’s the last connection he still has to his late father, and of a time mostly lost to him. He feels more special than he should that Claire would choose to share something like that with him.

Suddenly a sharp pain shoots up Steve’s arm. He drops the knife, now streaked with red and pulls his hand close to his chest with a hiss. His heart races and his eyes dart around, searching for other dangers in the area. Anything might be lurking in the shadows waiting to take advantage of his weakness. He scans back and forth for threats, eyes wide and alert. Nothing catches his attention except-

“Steve?! What happened?”

Claire drops her own knife and rushes over to him overcome with worry, but stops in her tracks when Steve backs away from her. He looks like a frightened animal, eyes wild and darting to anything that moves even the slightest bit.

“Did you cut your hand open?”

Her voice is soft and gentle as she approaches, hands low and outstretched to him. She doesn’t step closer, she waits for him to bridge the gap. Steve can see the caution in her face. Like she’s trying to coax a stray kitten out of hiding.

It works.

“Y-yeah,” Steve says, dropping the tension in his body a little. “I uh, wasn’t paying attention and… I guess it slipped.”

He opens his hand enough for Claire to see the small streaks of red that pool beneath his thumb. It’s superficial, barely deep enough to scar. The virus would already be hard at work stitching the burst blood vessels together, but he should still clean and bandage it. He has a bad habit of picking at the scaly scabs that form over wounds.

“Are you okay?” Claire asks, taking a small step forward. The gap between them is barely a foot wide. “That looks like it’s bleeding a lot.”

As Steve starts to relax further, Claire’s fingertips brush against his hand for a split second. The shock is enough to send him reeling back, his heart leaping into his throat. His instincts tell him to run and hide or fight his way to a safe place. Somehow he finds the self control to speak.

“No!” He yelps, loud enough to startle Claire. He lowers his voice but takes another step back. “No, I got it. It’s fine.”

He doesn’t stick around long. He can’t bear the worried, somewhat hurt, look on Claire’s face. Steve hurries into the bathroom around the corner and shuts the door before the fear and guilt tear him to pieces from the inside out. With trembling hands he turns on the sink faucet and lets icy water run over his open wound. It stings a little, but nothing he can’t endure. The excess blood trickles down the drain and vanishes in seconds. Just as he thought, the cut isn’t deep at all. That eases his anxieties somewhat, but not enough to stop the oncoming panic attack. Before it overtakes him, he wraps a washcloth around his hand to contain the blood as best he can.

Steve sinks to the floor and puts his head between his knees. It’s a struggle but he forces himself to take deep even breaths, just like Jill had taught the group. Though his head still spins, it helps to calm his heartbeat enough that it doesn’t feel like he’s about to have a heart attack. The trembling stops once he lets his consciousness fade to survival mode; he only thinks about his breathing and that he is safe.

Claire isn’t going to hurt him. No one is. He’s safe here. He’s safe with her.

Claire isn’t going to hurt him.

The world slows down, finally. Steve isn’t sure how long he’s been here but it can’t have been too long. Claire hasn’t come knocking on the door looking for him yet, and the savory scents of meat and spices being seared drifts in from the kitchen. His stomach tightens at the smell, helping to distract him further. Though his whole body feels heavy and drained of energy, Steve finds the strength to push himself to his feet once again. He cleans the now dried blood off of his hand, sloppily wraps his hand with a bandage, and dumps the rag he was holding into the wastebin before leaving the sanctuary of the bathroom.

When Steve returns to the kitchen, he expects Claire to rush at him and assault him with questions, but the only question is in her eyes. Wide, blue, and deeply worried about him. She doesn’t say anything or move to approach him, she only watches and waits for him to be ready. The way her brow creases and turns upwards at the ends make her look guilty, and that sends a pain through his gut he can’t identify right away.

“All good.” He announces, showing off his slapdash bandages. “It’s not deep. Just wanna keep it from getting dirty. And keep myself from picking at a scab.”

Claire looks at him with such intensity that Steve almost shrinks back from her gaze. It’s like she’s staring right through him.

“You sure?” she asks, keeping her voice low and gentle.

The genuine worry throws Steve for a loop. “Yeah.” He flashes her a wry, lopsided smile full of false confidence; as if he didn’t just have a panic attack. “I’ve had a lot worse.”

Claire studies him for a moment, then scoffs and shakes her head. A small grin finally appears on her face and it takes his breath away. “Yeah, I was there for some of those.”

She turns back to finishing up dinner. A shadow crosses her face as she grills the burger buns as a final touch, but it’s gone in a flash. Steve busies himself with getting drinks and plates, and thinking of something to say that might distract Claire from whatever sadness is eating away at her.

“You’ve had a lot worse than that.” He says with a grin, and immediately regrets it. Why did he think it’d be a good idea to bring back those kinds of memories?!

But Claire turns around and smiles broadly at him. “Oh you have no idea.” She drops a plate of burgers and a plate of toppings on the table, then as if to give Steve another heart attack, she props her leg up on the chair and rolls up one of her pant legs. A long, wide scar follows the length of her toned calf. Tan with age and wear, it stands out against her pale skin.

“This was from the Tyrant in Raccoon City.” She smirks, almost proud of her scar. “I was lucky it didn’t hit bone with how deep it was.”

There’s an edge to her voice, testing him. Teasing him. Steve grins. If Claire wants to have a scar battle, then he’s more than happy to show off.

He points to the largest scar on his face, “I got this from-...” Shit, he can’t tell her it was from falling down a mountain. That’s not cool. “...I got it from this big… Turtle thing.”

Claire raises an eyebrow at him, “Turtle thing?”

The lie spins out of control in his head, faster than he can stop. “Yeah! It was like...a big armored reptile B.O.W. Had these nasty claws for diggin’ in the ground. I got too close to it and it swatted at me. I’m lucky I didn’t lose this eye.”

He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest a bit. He can’t pinpoint why showing off his trauma like this makes him happy. Maybe he’s just happy to share it at all. It doesn’t matter to him now. Claire is smiling. He’s smiling.

They go back and forth, showing each other their scars and places where bones were broken while eating homemade burgers and fries. Claire shocks Steve with just how many scars and injuries she suffered over her years of fighting bioterrorism, and he astounds her with his stories of his misadventures on the B.O.W. storage island and his encounters with all manner of beasts. Watching her listen to him with such fervor and interest almost makes him forget how horrific it all was. It helps in a weird way.

But that changes in an instant.

When it’s his turn to point out a scar and tell a story, he stops thinking. He lifts up his shirt, exposing the most gruesome scar on his body with an excited grin. A scar that stretches from his collarbone and disappears beneath the waistband of his pants, with dots alongside it on either side. Instead of a jagged outline like the scars left by accidents and B.O.W’s, this one is straight, clean. Surgical.

“This one was from when they autopsied me.” He explains, far too excited about the grim display he presents Claire. “It still itches like hell where the staples were-”

Steve snaps to reality once he looks up to see Claire’s awestruck face. Instead of excitement, it’s horror. Her hands cover her mouth and her eyes, brimming with barely restrained tears, lock onto his stomach and a wound so old he had almost forgotten about it. Beneath the autopsy scar, beneath the scars from man-made beasts, there’s a circular mark a similar color to the scar on Claire’s leg. It’s old, faded, but still aches from how deep the tissue reaches inside him. The gravity of the old wound may be lost on him, buried under the countless others that mar his body, but it’s fresh and raw to Claire.

He hastily pulls his shirt down, “Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t-... I forgot that…” There’s nothing he can say that will ease her mind. He reaches out to her with one hand, stopping just by her arm before pulling back and sinking back into his chair. Another muttered apology falls from his lips as he hangs his head in shame.

He doesn’t notice Claire get up and cross the gap to him. Not until she takes a knee in front of him and brushes his unruly hair out of his eyes.

Claire’s touch is feather light and tender, but even that sends shocks through his skin. It jolts him out of his shamed stupor, and Claire pulls her hand back a few inches. Her expression is something he can’t make out. Somewhere between pity, sadness, and guilt. Before Steve can properly figure out what she’s thinking (something he’s never been good at) Claire runs her thumb across the large scar on his face, slowly and gently. He doesn’t flinch away from her this time. Then, something mundane yet earth shattering to this broken man out of time happens. Claire cups his scarred, stubble covered cheek in her hand.

Something breaks within him. A dam he didn’t know existed anymore that kept everything back, every trauma, every broken piece of him; some of which he didn’t even know were broken. Claire’s hand, her warm hand marred by callouses but still soft despite it all, molds to the contours of his face. There’s such tenderness, unrestrained kindness in her eyes and her touch and he can’t fathom how it can be directed to him. He doesn’t notice the tears in his eyes until they spill over.

Steve tries to calm himself with deep breaths but they come out stuttered and shaking. His shoulders heave, a lump in his throat chokes him. He screws his eyes shut, trying to shut out the vision of someone caring about him that deeply, but she’s still there. He can still see those piercing blue eyes boring into his soul and reading him like an open book. The moment Steve opens his eyes he sees the blurred outline of Claire Redfield wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He wants to yell at her to leave, to tell her that he’s a lost cause and there’s no helping him. He’s too damaged, too broken. He’ll never have a normal life. He’ll never be able to pretend he isn’t a monster. He will never be able to have meaningful relationships. But all that comes out of his mouth is a broken, choked sob. Someone is touching him, someone cares about him. And he can’t understand it.

Despite himself, Steve pulls Claire into a tight embrace and sobs into her shoulder. Her fingers run through his hair, while her other hand rubs his quaking back. Steve can’t stem the tears, that’s a feat that even a mighty Redfield can’t achieve, but he can’t deny that simply being in Claire’s arms replaces despair with a strange warmth. For the first time he can remember, he feels...safe.

Eventually, the tears stop, and Steve is able to breath easily again. Claire doesn’t let him go for a minute and for that he silently thanks her. It isn’t until he begins to pull away that she too lets her arms down and pulls back from him.

“I’m sorry…” he mutters, wiping the stray tears from his eyes, “I don’t-”

“Shut up.” Claire commands and takes Steve’s hands from his face. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Darkness crosses her face for a moment. “I should be the one apologizing… I know you-... It’s hard after a while, not being… Not having human contact like that for a while. It’s not something they tell you about in therapy.”

Steve shakes his head, “I needed it. I really… Really did.” He sighs, “I...I didn’t know how much I...everything… still hurts.”

With that same kind smile, Claire leans forward and kisses his forehead. “It takes a lot of strength to admit you’re hurting that much. Give yourself some credit.”

“Maybe…” he says with a sad smile. “... Thank you, Claire. For everything.”

She takes his hand in hers, tracing the callouses and scars with her thumb. “Thank you for coming back.”