#and of course this was one of the first things i saw
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CW: Implied melted skin (not graphic only goop, like slime), partial nudity)
Heavenly War Finale
This one was a one day marathon to complete and I like how it came out💃💃
Okay so this chapter has a lot of things going on both in front of us and in the background, so let’s break it down:
First, this chapter answers one of the biggest asks that everyone keeps leaving in my inbox, so at least you get that👍 Second, yes, just in case any of you were still wondering, Macaque is trans masc in the AU, there is more story behind it tied to his lore and I’ll make a post of that soon, but I would technically consider him more non-binary with an inclination for masculine pronouns. He usually shapeshifts his chest but since they were storming Heaven again he needed all the magic in his reserves so he decided neither to shapeshift or glamour this time.
Third, the celestials. So Li Jing is big bad in this chap, he’s following orders but he is firmly in the Emperor’s side. Meanwhile, chad Erlang pulled up with the gang like “Get in losers we’re helping to overthrow the government”, he definitely has some bones to pick with the Emperor so when he saw the opportunity he took it.
For this AU I’m going to be placing a lot of the imperials family’s drama closer to the timeline than like thousands of years, so a lot of them are like miffed with the emperor. For the AU I’m mainly talking about Erlang, Nezha, and anyone else I find cool later on.
Fourth, so in jttw, Wukong didn’t sustain a lot of burns and stayed alive cause he found a corner of the furnace that was less intense to hide in until the celestials were like yeah I think he’s barbecue. that’s still true here, he’s alive but mans was in a furnace for 49 days, he was definitely melting in there, and I liked the idea of him just coming out all slug like instead of just singed. Of course his healing kickstarted quickly so he was good, just a bit traumatized and changed.
I think that’s most of it💃💃💃 Next major part should be the Shadowpeach marriage proposal before we finally hop back with MK
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#lmk#sunset!au#ttm!au#time traveling monkey au#shadowpeach#lmk macaque#lmk sun wukong#lmk erlang#we are finally done with the heavenly war wooooo#it was fun working on a backstory of how he became emperor#there should be some asks and some small comics I post before the proposal but at least that one is all drafted#has been since part 3 of the time traveling monkey lmaoo
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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ SUNSHINE 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀
☆ 𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : Robin Jason Todd x Fem Reader
☆ HEADCANON : 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 (𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯).
☆ NOTES : 𝘛𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!
Jason first noticed you during an English Lit discussion when you were debating the themes in Wuthering Heights. Most of the class was half-asleep, but you were animated, speaking with such passion that Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away. He didn’t even care about Heathcliff or Catherine, but if you were this invested, then he’d read the whole damn book twice just to have something to talk to you about. At first, he kept his distance, watching you from afar. You were too kind, too radiant, too good for someone like him. But Jason wasn’t known for his self-restraint. The more he watched you, the more he realized he couldn’t stay away.
Jason started sitting closer to you in class. He’d lean back in his chair, tapping his pen against his desk, waiting for the perfect moment to chime in when you spoke. He wanted your attention, even if it was just a quick glance his way. When you’d drop your pen, Jason would be the first to pick it up, handing it back with a lopsided grin. ��Gotta be more careful, sunshine.” The nickname stuck, much to his delight. He quickly learned your schedule. Not in a creepy way (he tells himself), but because he just happened to notice you always stopped by your locker before lunch. He’d time it so he was walking by at the same moment, giving him an excuse to strike up a conversation. Jason’s protective instincts kicked in almost immediately. If anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, Jason was there, glaring at them until they backed off. He didn’t care if it was some senior jock twice his size—no one messed with you.
One day, you stayed late at school to finish a group project, and Jason nearly lost his mind when he saw you walking home alone after dark. He followed you in the shadows, making sure you got home safely. The next morning, he casually handed you a pocket-sized pepper spray. “For emergencies,” he said, trying to play it cool. He started leaving little things in your locker. A book you mentioned wanting to read, your favorite candy, or a handwritten note that simply said, "Don’t forget to smile today, sunshine."
Jason had a habit of “accidentally” showing up at places he knew you’d be. Whether it was the library, the coffee shop down the street, or even the park where you liked to read, Jason was always “just passing by.” He’d flash you a sheepish grin and sit down, secretly thrilled at the chance to spend more time with you. He hated seeing you talk to other guys, especially when they made you laugh. Jason knew he didn’t have the polished charm of some of the rich kids at Gotham High, but he cared about you in a way no one else could. He’d clench his fists and bite his tongue, reminding himself that you deserved someone better—someone who wouldn’t scare you away with how much they needed you. But then you’d turn to him, smiling so sweetly, and Jason would forget everything else. He’d do anything to keep that smile on your face.
One evening, you stayed late at school again, and this time, someone actually tried to mess with you. Jason, of course, had been waiting nearby, as he always did when you stayed late. He didn’t hesitate to step in, taking down the guy with practiced ease. “Jason?!” you gasped when you saw him. He froze, realizing you’d caught him. “You—you were following me?” you asked, a mix of confusion and something softer in your voice. Jason rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping away. “I just... wanted to make sure you were safe,” he muttered. “You don’t know how dangerous this city is. I couldn’t—I can’t let anything happen to you.” Instead of being scared, you surprised him by throwing your arms around him. “Thank you, Jason,” you whispered, and he swore his heart stopped.
From that day on, Jason was even more protective of you. He’d walk you home without an excuse, carry your books without asking, and sit with you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Jason wasn’t the type to ask for permission, not when it came to you. He’d always been bold in everything he did—whether it was picking a fight with someone twice his size or throwing himself into danger without a second thought. But when it came to you, he hesitated. How could he ask you out without coming off as desperate? Without you realizing just how much space you occupied in his mind, how your laugh replayed in his head on a loop every night, and how he couldn’t sleep unless he knew you were safe?
It started like any other day. Jason was walking you to class, his bag slung carelessly over his shoulder as he matched your pace. His usual smirk was in place, but inside, his mind was racing. He’d practiced the words over and over in his head. Just ask her. It’s not a big deal. She likes you, right? She has to. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil, chatting about your favorite movie and how you’d been wanting to watch it again. Jason latched onto that.
“Hey, uh... you doing anything this weekend?” he asked, trying to sound casual. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his usual cockiness slipping into nervousness. You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “Not really. Why?” “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could catch that movie you like? Or, you know, grab some food after. Just us.” Your eyebrows shot up. “Jason Todd, are you asking me out?” His ears turned red. “Maybe. Depends on your answer.” You laughed—a sweet, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “You’re cute when you’re nervous, you know that?” Jason huffed, trying to regain his composure. “So, is that a yes, or...?” “Of course, it’s a yes,” you said, nudging his shoulder playfully. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask, you know.”
Jason was a bundle of nerves the entire day leading up to your date. He didn’t want to mess this up—not with you. He even went so far as to ask Alfred (secretly, of course) for advice, which earned him a lecture about being respectful and treating you like a lady. When he picked you up that evening, Jason was... different. He’d ditched his usual leather jacket for a nicer shirt, and his hands were tucked nervously into his pockets. But the moment he saw you step out of your house, his nerves vanished. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look... amazing.” You smiled, blushing slightly. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Todd.” He couldn’t stop grinning as he walked you to his bike. “Hold on tight, sunshine,” he teased as he handed you a helmet. “I’ve got you.”
Jason surprised you by actually being a perfect gentleman. He took you to your favorite little diner, the one you’d mentioned in passing weeks ago. He remembered everything you liked—the exact way you liked your burger, your favorite drink, even the little details about how you always added extra ketchup. During the movie, he couldn’t focus on the screen. Not when you were sitting so close, your shoulder brushing his. He was hyper-aware of every little movement you made—the way you laughed at the funny scenes, the way your eyes lit up during your favorite parts. And when you leaned your head against his shoulder halfway through, Jason thought he might actually die from happiness.
As the weeks went on, you started noticing things about Jason. How he always seemed to know where you were, how he’d intercept anyone who tried to bother you before they even got close, how he’d show up with your favorite snacks when you didn’t mention being hungry. It didn’t take long to piece it together. One evening, as you both sat on a rooftop (because Jason insisted the city looked better from up high), you decided to bring it up. “Jason,” you started, looking at him with a soft smile, “you’re really... protective, you know that?” He stiffened. “Is that... bad?” You shook your head, resting your hand on his arm. “No. It’s sweet. I know you just want to keep me safe.” Jason let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “You’re the best thing in my life, and the thought of anything happening to you—” “Jason,” you interrupted, squeezing his arm, “you don’t have to worry so much. I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with a vulnerability you didn’t expect. “You mean that?” You nodded. “I like having you around. Even if you’re a little... intense sometimes.” His lips twitched into a grin. “You think I’m intense now? You should see what I’d do if anyone actually hurt you.” You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think I’ll take your word for it.” Jason wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. In that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you happy and safe. You were his sunshine, his everything. And now that he had you, he wasn’t letting go. Not ever.
𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.
#🕊️. dc comics#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#jason todd x you#yandere jason todd#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd#jason todd x fem!reader#yandere jason todd x reader#jason todd x y/n#yandere dc x reader#dc x female reader#yandere dc#yandere male#yandere#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfam#batfam x fem reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n
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A New Year's Distraction
Pairing: Javier Peña + f!Reader Word Count: 3.3k Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI Summary: Javi doesn't realize that you've got a surprise waiting for him at home.
Tags/warnings: PWP let’s be real lol, secret established relationship, foul language, (1) suggestive note, mentions of food and alcohol, foodplay, consumption of alcohol, mention of masturbation, brief masturbation, brief sex toy usage, spitting, squirting, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up people), creampie, (1) pussy slap, Spanish nicknames and phrases, (1) use of the word 'slut' (but Reader is into it)
a/n: I saw these GIFs of Javi and @for-a-longlongtime convinced me to turn my little drabble thought into a fic. Is it after New Year’s Eve? Yes. Shhh. Pretend it’s not, for me. So here it is, unbeta’d and minimally edited. This is my first Javi P fic, so pls be gentle but also let me know how I did with writing him! Happy belated New Year to this little Tumblr community - I love you so much! (Banners by @saradika-graphics, GIF by @pedrohub)
MAIN MASTERLIST
In any other year, you’d have been out on the town, dancing with friends and drinking cocktails while men tried to woo you for a midnight kiss. You’d drink too much, wake up hungover, and potentially with a stranger in bed.
This year, however, New Year’s Eve in Colombia looked markedly different.
Since you’d started at the embassy at the beginning of the year, helping the US track and take down narcos, the work never stopped. (Drug trafficking, it seemed, did not take note of the holidays.) You’d thrown yourself into the work, desperate to prove that you belonged here - which was already an uphill battle given your gender. Women have to work twice as hard as men in general, but here? Even more so. The machismo patriarchy wanted Columbia to chew you up, spit you out, and send you packing. You wanted - needed - this job to work out, so letting the place eat you alive wasn’t an option.
On this New Year’s Eve, partying with friends was out of the question. Recent intelligence reports needed to be analyzed, and it fell onto you this time. You sigh, rubbing your temples as you continue to leaf through and take notes in the margins. The office was relatively quiet, a couple of your coworkers waving bye to you on their way out to the bars. You check the clock - 7pm - and stretch, deciding enough is enough.
Earlier in the week, you’d planned out a little surprise for Javier Peña – DEA agent extraordinaire and the man you’d been dating secretly for months – at his place for the evening, both of you preferring to stay in this year. Plus, there was really only one man you wanted to kiss at midnight. Smiling, you grab a manila folder. You tear a page out of your field notebook, scribble a note, then stick it into the folder. Getting up from your desk, you gather your things and walk across the building to the DEA office, a mischievous smile on your lips.
In a nearly-dark conference room, Javi stands hands akimbo, poring over the various maps, satellite images, and transcriptions of tapped conversations with other members of the team. They’d been trying to make a decision with the latest batch of intelligence gathering, but as per usual, egos began to butt heads and office politics started to come into play. He runs his hand through his dark curls, frustration etched into his features as he listens numbly to the arguing going on around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you round the corner, spotting him and smiling. You’re carrying your purse and a manila folder with what he’s assuming is more intelligence reports for him to look over. Javi struggles to school his features, tamping down the desire to smirk at your arrival. Steve, of course, notices his partner’s distraction, and puts two and two together when you knock on the conference room door.
“Agent Peña?” you chirp, popping your head into the room.
He nods at you, holding his hand out for the folder. You place it in his hand, all business. “Thanks. Are these the –” Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve already turned around, striding out the door and towards the exit. He’s a bit confused, staring at the folder in his hands.
Steve gives him a look, but continues discussing the current leads with the rest of the team. Javi places the folder to the side of the table, giving it little thought.
Two hours later, Javi is done.
The discussions had turned into arguments, and the conversation was going nowhere. An ashtray sits in the middle of the table, a smoldering cigarette in front of Javi. All he wants to do is to go home, take off his shoes and belt (god, how he hates wearing belts), loosen up his tie, and have a stiff drink.
Suddenly, he remembers your folder. Bored with the current conversation, he picks it up to skim the reports you gave him. However, the folder is far lighter than he’d expect for reports. Puzzled, he opens it to find a torn piece of lined notebook paper with a note scrawled in your handwriting.
Going to your place for New Year’s Eve. Steaks, champagne, and me naked in your bed. See you later xoxo
Javi’s brain feels like it stops working.
He reads the note another two, three times, and then bends over, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, staring blankly ahead as the blood rushes from his head to his groin. The chatter around him fades. Unconsciously, he brings his fist to his lips as flashes of lewd images flood his mind - how you look when you strip for him; you on your hands and knees with your ass in the air, your pussy shining with slick; you on your back, thighs spread wide around his torso, eyes closed and mouth open as you moan and clench his length inside of you.
Fuck it.
His eyes flit around the room, and he realizes he just does not care about any of this right now. Javi reaches for the stumpy cigarette, taking a single drag, then drops it unceremoniously back into the ashtray, grabbing his things and leaving the table without a word.
“Peña!” Steve calls after him. “What the fuck?” But Javi doesn’t hear him, because he’s already out the door, on his way to where the throbbing between his thighs is taking him – straight to you.
You’d (correctly) assumed that Javi would be stuck in that god-awful meeting for at least another hour and a half, so you’d allowed yourself a leisurely unwinding from the day. After grabbing the steaks and champagne stashed at your apartment, you let yourself into Javi’s place, overnight bag in tow. You’d lit some candles in the living room, pre-seasoned the steaks, and then popped the cork on one of the champagne bottles. Pouring yourself a glass, you took a long soak in his tub, luxuriating in waters dosed with bath oils your mother sent you as a Christmas present. Now, soft skin toweled dry and heavenly scented, you lay bare in Javi’s bed, just as you said you would.
Your vibrating wand hums as you tease your folds with your thighs spread, your other hand caressing the curves of your breasts. A soft moan leaves your mouth, lips parted. You smile and giggle to yourself at the thought of how worked up you likely got Javi from your little note. You knew the steaks and champagne weren’t a guarantee that he’d leave the office and come home, but you knew that the second you mentioned being naked in bed for him, he’d leap up and take off running like the Road Runner in Looney Toons.
The door slams open and closed, and your smile turns into a predatory smirk. Showtime.
You press the wand firmer to your clit, eliciting more moans, and Javi is drawn to the bedroom like a sailor to a siren’s song. You hear his shoes being toed off, then the swish of his jacket being thrown onto the couch. His briefcase and keys hit the countertop, and then his purposeful strides get louder as he stalks down the hall to you. His broad frame appears in the doorway, shoulders taut against his dove grey button-up, his striped tie loosened and his hands occupied with rolling up his sleeves. Despite the dark color of his slacks, you can see his cock already straining at the crotch. His eyes flash onyx in the dim lighting.
“Starting without me, muñequita?” he rumbles, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. You spread yourself wider and toss the wand to the side, letting him see your shining center, slick and ready for him.
“No, baby,” you hum, propping yourself onto your elbows and pushing your bare tits out. “Just keeping myself soaked for you, just like you like me. A good girl.”
Javi groans audibly at your display and words, an animal barely keeping it together. “What you are is a menace,” he growls, raking a hand through his hair. “Floating on by like a damn dream, waltzing out of the office without so much as a hint at the dirty fucking note you left me in that folder. I didn’t open it for two hours. And when I did, I got so hard I had to leave.”
“Then let me take care of my hard-working, handsome, brave DEA agent,” you purr. “The steaks are ready to cook, but knowing you, you want your dessert first.”
“Actually,” Javi smirks, “I’d really like some festive bubbles.” You go to reach for the second glass, yours having been refilled shortly before Javi came home, but he stops you.
“No, bebita. Lay back. I don’t need a glass for this.”
Javier grabs the champagne bottle, then slots himself over your body. You widen your legs to accommodate him, pressing your hips to meet his.
Bracketing your head with his forearms, he commands gently, “Open.”
You open your lips obediently. He takes a swig from the bottle, then spits the bubbly wine right into your mouth. Moaning, you swallow, wetness pooling between your thighs. His gaze never leaves yours.
“Dirty girl, you liked that,” Javi teases, his eyes glittering with mischief.
“Tastes better like that,” you husk, then pull him in for a deep kiss. His plush lips move against yours, tongues dancing, feeding off each other. His kisses intoxicate your mind.
Breaking the kiss, Javi continues to run his lips down your body, stopping briefly to suck each of your nipples into his mouth, making you shudder and gasp. He trails his tongue across your belly, gently biting your mound. Once there, he sits back on his haunches, then smiles wickedly.
“I know how to make it taste even better,” he teases. Slowly, he trickles the fizzy alcohol in a thin stream over your exposed center. A gasp is forced out of your throat, quickly turning into a moan when Javi laps it off your folds.
Another pour, more licking from him. Your moans turn into whines, the pleasure coursing through your veins.
“Fuck, Javi, that’s so hot,” you whimper. At your admission, he surges back to your face to kiss you passionately, your own tart sweetness and the headiness of the champagne swirling on your tongue from his. All too soon, he’s parting from your lips. You grumble, until he’s ducked back down between your thighs, your swollen clit gently secured between his lips before he starts to suck. His palm presses on your belly, right above your pubic bone.
“Oh god,” you whine, your release rising in your bones like the bubbles in the long-forgotten glass flute beside the bed. Javi moans into your pussy, slipping two of his fingers into your core.
“You sound so pretty, nenita,” he murmurs. “Are you gonna come on my face for me?”
“Yes, papí, fuck,” you moan, hips grinding against his talented mouth.
He curls his fingers upwards, stroking that spongy spot on your walls. “Dámelo,” your boyfriend commands, then sucks your clit hard.
You shatter for him with a stuttered scream, your release spurting on his chin and mouth. He holds down your hips as you ride out the waves of ecstasy.
“That’s my good fucking girl,” he growls. When you relax, Javi slips his fingers from you, sucking your juices off of them. Blissed out, you watch as he begins to strip off his clothes, his golden skin and taut muscles coming into view. Now completely bare, he climbs back over you, his face still glistening from the evidence of your orgasm. He spreads your thighs apart, grabbing his dick in his hand and slapping your drenched pussy with his mushroom tip. The sounds of your wetness are obscene.
Javi smirks like the devil himself. “Been dreaming about this sloppy little cunt all day,” he rumbles, rubbing your swollen clit teasingly with his cockhead. “Thinking about all the ways I wanted to ruin you. Not being able to touch you all day was torture.”
You snort a laugh breathily. “If only the cartels knew all it took to break you was to deny you of pussy for a few hours. You’d be singing government secrets.”
Javi’s eyes darken for a moment, and then he slaps your slick folds, making you cry out pain and then pleasure.
“Watch your fucking mouth, princesa,” he warns, “or I’ll fill it up so you can’t say shit to me.”
Your arousal flares. Javi knows just how rough you can take it from him.
“I’m sorry, papi,” you moan. “I promise I’ll be good for you.”
He smirks. “I know you will.” Without warning, he slides home, sheathing himself inside you with a single, devastating stroke. You both cry out brokenly at the intense sensations, his cock always a stretch for you. All you can see, feel, think about, is him.
Javi stays buried inside you, laying still while you adjust. Your velvet heat wraps around him wholly and overwhelms his senses. He has to take deep breaths to keep him from falling off the edge of his ecstasy.
“God, you take me so well,” he grits out. “Pussy feels like heaven.” You can only breathe a whine in response, soft lips popped open as you struggle to relax your walls around him. Usually he works you open slowly, but it seems like your bratty comment triggered the feral side in him.
“Oh, pobrecita,” Javi mocks, tutting as you squirm underneath him. “Did my cock already render you speechless?” When you let out another whimper, he smirks darkly. He grips your chin between his fingers firmly, bringing your focus to his devastatingly handsome face. “C‘mon, pretty baby. Use your words.”
Your lips close and throat bobs, attempting to obey. “You feel so big in me, papí,” you rasp out, voice fucked.
Javi chuckles. “Tight little pussy is grippin’ me so well, honey,” he teases, sending a pulse scuttling through your core. “Wanna stay buried inside you all the time.”
Soon, the sting of his cock melts into pleasure thrumming along your nerves. Your pussy weeps more slick. “Please, Javi,” you beg, feeling the arousal spread like fire through your veins. You desperately need him to move.
“When you beg so pretty, I guess I have to,” Javi smirks. He slowly pulls out, lighting up every nerve ending in your channel, then thrusts back into you quick and deep. A loud moan shakes loose from your lungs, and Javi grinds his molars when he feels you tighten around him in response. He continues this way, every devastating minute melting you further into the mattress. You scrabble your hands around his shoulders for purchase, arching your back into him when he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. Legs wrap around his waist, your cunt sucking him in as deeply as it can. Javi’s eyes scan your body, cataloguing every whimper, twitch, and breath to bring you to climax as fast as possible.
“Is this what you needed, bebita?” Javi asks. You clench around him and nod rapidly, breath coming in pants. “‘Cause it sure as hell is what I needed.”
He bares his teeth as he picks up his pace, stroking your messy pussy harder and deeper. “You’re so fucking wet for me. I wanna feel your little pussy pulse around me when you come,” he groans, and you let out a reedy whine in response. He grabs your hips and tilts them, changing the angle he’s fucking into you, and your entire body lights up.
“That’s it, baby, c’mon,” Javi begs, “Come for me. Show me how hard I can make you come.”
When he asks so nicely like that, your body simply can’t refuse.
The waves of pleasure gather behind your belly button and explode outwards as you scream his name, your legs shaking and cunt fluttering around him. Javi moans at your release, biting into your shoulder to keep from coming. When you begin to relax, he pulls out of you, a protesting groan dribbling out from your lips until he flips you back on all fours.
Javi lifts your hips in the air, your chest pressed to the mattress, and lines himself up at your entrance. “I’m not done with you yet,” he informs you, smoke edging his voice, and he sinks into you again. You let out a surprised but thrilled moan, as this is your favorite way to take him.
“My pretty slut wants to be railed from behind, hmm?” Javi teases, his movements fluid and confident. Sliding his hand down your arm, he sucks two of your fingers into his mouth before placing your hand between your thighs, right where he’s splitting you open.
“Rub that pretty little clit for me, sweetheart,” he orders, and all you can do is moan and comply. Javi grabs your hips, his blunt nails leaving tiny crescent moon indentations in your supple skin, reminders of how insatiable he is for your body. Small droplets of his sweat scatter across your back. Your drenched folds squelch lewdly as he plays your body like the finest orchestral instrument, knowing exactly how to elicit those gorgeous sounds from your lips. Your fingers swirl around your swollen pearl, spiraling you higher and higher towards your orgasm. You love feeling him like this, as if he’s in your throat, filling every single empty space within your body.
Your thighs begin to twitch and shake, and Javi knows you’re close. He braces against your shoulder for leverage with one hand, and lands a hard slap across your backside with his other while he bounces your body against his cock. Your moans have turned to wails, a desperate whining edge to them.
“Fuck, papi,” you keen, “fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeeee.” Javi ratchets his movements up another level, pounding into you earnestly, his own release coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck this cunt, it’s yours,” you beg, and your filthy mouth in the throes of passion may send him to an early grave, albeit with his dick wet.
“You gonna come again for papi?” he asks rhetorically. Your head bobs vigorously, your fingers a blur between your thighs. He’s barely holding on, seconds from exploding.
A stream of pornographic whimpers leaves your lips. As they get higher in pitch, your cunt squeezes his shaft tighter, and now he’s moaning unabashedly.
“Oh, fuck, Javi, I’m coming” you manage to moan before you scream into the bedding, shattering, pussy clamping down on his cock. He whimpers loudly, burying himself, and unloads rope after rope of thick cum inside of you. Shaking with each twitch of his cock, he leans forward to blanket you with his body. Javi gently rolls the both of you to your sides, remaining inside of you. The air settles with only your and Javi’s heavy breathing echoing in the room.
Once you catch your breath, a smile breaks out across your face. You press kisses to Javi’s forearms. “This is the best New Year’s Eve celebration I’ve had yet,” you muse, leaning your head back against Javi’s strong chest.
He huffs a laugh, then pulls out of you gently with a quiet groan, the warm trickle of his cum from your wrecked pussy following shortly. He turns you to face him, his hands framing your jawline, and he softly sponges his lips to your forehead, running his nose down the bridge of yours before kissing it. “Night’s not over yet, nena. I believe you mentioned some steaks?”
Giggling, you nod affirmatively. “Great,” he continues, kissing along your neck, “because once we’re done enjoying those, I’m gonna enjoy you all over again. It is my full intention to have you literally coming straight through the new year.”
The answering grin on your lips is so bright, it could rival the Times Square New Year’s Ball drop. “Well, happy new year to us, then, Agent Peña.”
Tagging those who I thought might like some Javi P smut:
@mountainsandmayhem @alltheirdamn @sin-djarin @joelmillerisapunk @arcanefox207
@mermaidgirl30 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @campingwiththecharmings @qveerthe0ry
@yxtkiwiyxt @almostfoxglove @almostempty @swankyorange @alltheglitterandtheroar
@yorksgirl @pedropeach @pedrospatch @jolapeno @max--phillips
@baronessvonglitter @puddles221b @evolnoomym @slimybeth69 @perotovar
@penvisions @indiegirlunited @eupheme @heareball @reggiesfilthylittlesecret
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#javier pena narcos#javier pena smut#javier pena x you#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#narcos smut#pedrohub#javier pena x reader
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Our Girlfriend pt 2
The morning after.
You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.
Part one
The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.
You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.
You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.
"You awake, love?"
Because real life always came knocking.
You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.
Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.
Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.
The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"
As a matter of fact . . .
"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"
He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.
"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.
"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"
"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."
Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.
"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"
Oh shit. The rest of them.
How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.
All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.
Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.
Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.
"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."
"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.
It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?
Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.
"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.
"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.
You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.
So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?
You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.
They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.
You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.
Next
#tf 141 x reader#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#kyle garrick x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#fic: our girlfriend
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Transactional—Hwang In Ho/Front Man x Fem!Reader
summary— The Front Man offers you freedom in exchange for something you hadn’t expected and your decision leads to something you had no idea would happen. Based on this request.
warnings— usual squid game shenanigans, power imbalance, slight coercion, degradation, face fucking, strip tease, cunnilingus, degradation, ass slapping, hair pulling, praise kink, unprotected sex, cock warming, creampie, pregnancy, mentions of abortion.
a/n— I see you guys’ requests, patience🫶🏽more soon.
The Front Man slowly sipped his expensive whiskey, eyes focused on the monitors as he watched the Squid Games unfold.
Some would call him sick but he quite enjoyed watching the desperation and suffering of the players. It fueled him and he looked forward to new games everyday.
He chuckled at the stupidity of the players when majority opted for ‘one more game’ instead of just going home with the money they had accumulated. Their stupidity, his entertainment.
As he scanned them each walking up to push the X or O button, his eyes landed upon you. For a moment, his breath caught as he stared. You were ethereal, the most beautiful woman that had ever graced his eyes.
Now, he wasn’t even focused on Gi-hun anymore. His focus was on you. You infiltrated his mind and he needed to save you from the game before something terrible happened. Though, it wasn’t just his need to be your savior that fueled him. He was pent up—unable to remember the last time he stuck his dick in a pretty girl like you.
That night, he held an important meeting with the guards. An idea had came to his mind to spice things up a bit.
That night, he instructed the pink guards to kidnap you from your bed quietly, so as to not alert the other players, especially not Gi-hun who had become a friend to you.
“Bring her here tonight. I have a proposal for her,” he said to the guards, darkly.
That night, after much twisting and turning, you were finally able to fall asleep. Your slumber was cut short as you felt gloved hands clasp over your mouth. Your scream was muffled as two guards grabbed you but you quickly became silent feeling the cold barrel of a gun press against your temple.
“We’re not here to hurt you, just be quiet. Someone wants to see you,” one of them said.
Your heart beat faster in your chest as they led you out of the dormitory. Who wanted to see you?
They led you through the maze and through hallways you had never seen before, each step making fear course through your veins. You had no idea what to expect from whoever wanted to see you. Meanwhile, the Front Man watched through the monitors as the guards brought you to him, each step closer leaving him eager.
The large door to his personal quarters slid open and you were brought inside before the guards left without a word. Stood before you was a man in all black and when he turned around, your breath hitched.
He was tall, older and handsome. You cursed yourself internally for that being your first thought but you couldn’t help yourself. Anyone would think the same if they saw the man before them.
“Good night,” he greeted, his deep voice making you shiver. “Enjoying yourself?”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Is that a serious question? And who the hell are you—wait, you’re the organizer of these games?” you asked, recognition in your tone.
“We’re not here to speak about that sweetheart but yes, any other questions you’d like to ask?” he said, stepping closer to you.
“Why am I here?” It was the only thing you could think to ask as he towered over you.
“As you’ve realized, I’m the organizer of this game. My name is Hwang In-ho and I have a proposal for you,” he replied.
You tilted your head and quirked your eyebrow, a thousand questions swarming your head but none being able to translate to actual words.
“The X on your uniform suggests you’re keen on leaving the game but since majority voted to stay, I have a different method in which you can leave.” He stepped closer now, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
“To leave the game, you’ll have to have sex with me.” The moment the words left his lips your eyes widened in shock.
“T-to leave the game, I’ll have to let you fuck me?” you repeated.
“If that’s how you want to word it, but yes,” he retorted, a smile tugging at his lips. “It’s entirely your decision. You let me fuck you and you leave the game, you refuse and I send you back safe and sound.”
Safe and sound. You scoffed, he was sending you back there to die. Was it really your decision considering the situation you were in? You truly had no other choice. If you refused, you’d be sent back to continue the cycle of ‘one more game’ until you lost s game and died. You didn’t have much fight in you left, this was your only option and it seemed more plausible than going back to more than likely end up dying.
On the other hand, if you decided to take In-ho up on his offer, you would return home safe. You stared up at him, eyes flossing over his sharp yet soft features. He wasn’t hard to look at. In fact, you could picture him above you. You could picture him having those large hands all over you, his hand wrapped around your neck, his cock—
“You’re biting your lip,” In-ho said, snapping you out of your thoughts.
Your cheeks heated as you looked away from him, he could probably tell what your answer was by your reaction.
“You can take a long warm shower and later, inform me of your decision,” he added.
He gestured to the bathroom and you walked inside meekly, your eyes landing on some new clothes neatly folded on the counter. He seemed to have it all planned out, you admired a man that knew what he wanted and went after it, you had to give him that.
Stepping into the shower, you allowed the warm water to engulf you and wash away the weight you had been carrying the last few days. You scrubbed yourself thoroughly, remembering how blood would splatter on your skin after a player had been shot. Thinking about the incident made you shudder, you needed to escape. This was the opportunity you had been hand picked to be given and you decided that you had to take it.
After a long shower, you dressed yourself in the clothes In-ho had laid out for you. It was a cute dress that hugged your figure. Strategic—but you weren’t mad at it.
As you stepped out of the bathroom, In-ho’s eyes landed on you. His eyes roamed your figure, not even being subtle about it.
“I’ve made my decision,” you said.
“Already? Well then, what is it?”
You sighed, telling yourself it was just this once and you truly had no other choice.
“I’ll have sex with you in exchange for my freedom,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the floor.
“Oh, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re going to be my slut,” he murmured, “and say it louder. Use your voice as much as you can now, because by the time I’m finished with you, you won’t have a voice from how much I’ve made you moan.”
Your breath caught at his words but you couldn’t deny the way it made your core throb. “I’ll fuck you in exchange for my freedom.”
“Good girl. So obedient for me already. I’m going to have so much fun with you, a pretty girl shouldn’t be in this hell hole,” he cooed. “First, I want you to get on your knees and crawl to me.”
His request made your heart drop. It felt so degrading yet thrilling. Adrenaline and pure lust ran through you and your gaze locked on his as you went on your knees and crawled to him. You crawled slowly but seductively, watching as he adjusted himself in the couch.
When you finally reached his feet, his hands went to your cheek, caressing it. “That’s a good girl. Next, I want you to unbuckle my pants and pull my cock out.”
With shaky hands, you did as you were told unbuckling his pants and when you reached his boxers, you paused. The dent told you everything you needed to know—he was aroused. And by the looks of it, he wasn’t a small man. He lifted his hips, allowing you to pull his underwear down and you gasped as his cock sprang free, slapping against his abdomen.
You’d never seen such a pretty cock and you cursed the thought for infiltrating your mind even though it was true. In-ho was long and hard, surely to hit all the right spots deep inside you. You wrapped your hand around the base and bit your lip feeling him throb.
“Suck my cock and show me just how bad you want to get out of here,” he whispered, his tone dark.
With that, you took him into your mouth, feeling him stretch your jaw open. The sounds of his pleasure willed you on, and you began to move your head, sending him to the back of your throat, lost in the rhythm of pleasing him. “That’s it, just like that,” In-ho groaned, his hands tangling in your hair, urging you on.
The gliding of your tongue across the thick shaft sent shivers through him. You could feel his balls twitch, and his thighs tensed beneath your hands. You moved to trailing your lips along the side of his cock, before meeting his dark eyes that stared down at you. His chest was rising and falling with every breath he took, and you could tell he was trying to hold back from losing control.
“You’re so good at this angel, fuck, so dirty.” You moaned around his cock, then took it out of your mouth to spit on it. Sticking your tongue out, you looked up at him as you slapped his cock against it and he held your hair in response, his head tipping back.
With his fingers in your curls, he dragging your mouth up and down his shaft before he started thrusting. You gagged but he didn’t stop, if anything, he sped up but only after giving you a minute to breathe. You could feel his cock twitch down your throat and you began massaging his balls, tears in your eyes as his thrusts increased.
“Swallow my cum like a good girl. Show me how bad you want to get out of here,” his deep voice said.
You took him to the back of your throat, and stroked what didn’t fit as you felt the salty taste of cum fill your mouth. Without hesitation, you swallowed, humming around his cock and sending jolts of pleasure through him.
Pulling you up by your hair, he kissed you, savoring the taste of his own release.
“You did well. I’m thoroughly impressed,” he chuckled.
He pulled you off your knees, his hands roaming your sides and caressing your curves before he squeezed your ass.
“Strip.” His voice left no room for disobedience and you did as you were told, slowly and seductively ridding yourself of the clothing he had generously gave to you.
His dark gaze drank in the sight before him and by the smirk on his face, he was utterly impressed. As he stood up, he held under your ass, hoisting you against him and walking with you to what you assumed to be the bedroom.
It was dimly lit and large but you had no time to admire it as he threw you on the bed. “Let’s see if you taste as delectable as you look.”
His lips pressed against your abdomen, trailing kisses until he reached your clit, spreading your legs and kissing further and further.
“You’re soaked, so wet for me,” he murmured, using his tongue to collect your wetness and spitting it back onto your pussy.
A soft moan escaped your lips, the feeling of his warm mouth on your pussy the best thing you'd ever felt these last few days.
“Your moans are so sweet angel."
He dived in, flicking his tongue on your clit before bringing it down to your leaking hole and licking back up. His grip was firm on your thighs, spreading them wide as he continued. You couldn’t believe the utter pleasure you were feeling, he was so skilled with his tongue having you squirm underneath him and moan so loudly, you feared the guards would hear.
His tongue was practically inside you, tonguing you and moving back up to suck on your clit. As his movements increased, the coil in your abdomen grew tighter, ready to burst.
“Cum on my tongue beautiful, be a good little slut.” A loud gasp left your lips and your body lifted from the bed as he practically took your soul and you squirted onto his face, soaking him. He slurped you up like a starving man and you squirmed under his touch, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“You’re so beautiful when you cum and you taste just as good as you look,” he panted.
Feeling bold, you pulled him up into a kiss, his mouth soaked in your juices. His head moved down to your full breasts, suckling and moaning as your fingers tangled in his silky hair.
"So eager sweetheart. Beg me to fuck you, let me hear how bad you want to leave this place," he teased.
"Please In-ho," you whined, "Please fuck me, I want your cock so fucking bad."
Swiftly, he sank into you, but halted, allowing your tight pussy to adjust to his size.
“Shit,” you moaned, as he took your breath away, “you’re so fucking big.”
“I know baby, but you better take it like a good girl if you want to leave,” he whispered, reaching down and rubbing your clit to ease the tension.
As you adjusted, he slammed into you, burying his cock to the hilt. Your moans filled the kitchen as he began moving at a pace that had your toes curling and your fingers gripping the sheets.
With how he was pounding into you, your pussy surely would remember the shape of his cock. You could feel him deep inside your cervix his cock twitching and your pussy throbbing. His large hand snaked around your neck as your foreheads touched, small trickles of sweat mingling. He worked his hips into you, your mouth in an ‘O’ as you breathlessly moaned with him slamming into you.
“You feel fucking amazing, best pussy I’ve ever had,” he panted.
You cried out in response and he pulled out his cock, slapping the heavy tip on your clit making you jolt. As soon as it made contact with your clit, you squirted, your juices spurting all over his cock. He slipped back in and as you tightened around him, you felt something warm and sticky fill you up.
"This pussy feels too good not to cum inside. Fuck, don’t move, I'm not finished with you yet."
He flipped you on your stomach and sank into you from behind, slapping your ass as he did.
“This ass,” he moaned, “you should see how good you look from this angle.”
His hips snapped against your ass, pounding you as your back arched deeper. You whimpered loudly and did your best to please him, slamming your ass back against him, his cock brushing that sweet spot deep inside you.
He gripped your curls, using it as an anchor to slam into you faster and harder.
“God, you’re clenching around me so tight, cum on my cock,” he moaned.
You buried your face into the bed, crying out as you shuddered and squirted around him, your arousal dripping down to his sheets. With one last powerful stroke, you felt something warm and sticky fill you up again.
He pulled out slowly, a deep moan escaping his lips before he collapsed on the bed beside you. He pulled you on top of him, plugging your pussy with his cock, not letting a drop of his cum go to waste.
“You did so well. You made a good decision,” he whispered in your ear.
For the rest of the night he held you close with his cock buried deep inside you. By morning, you were too sore and fucked out to even move.
You sat up in bed as you heard the door open, watching as In-ho approached you with breakfast. Softly, you thanked him and began eating, unable to make eye contact after the night you had with him.
“As promised, you can leave the game tonight. I’ll give you some cash and my contact so we can—keep in touch.” As he said those last words, his eyes fell to your bare chest.
Later that night, a deep sudden sleep took ahold of you without you being able to fight it. In your slumber, In-ho kissed your forehead, allowing the guards to take you off the island and back home with a wad of cash he generously gave you. He knew he’d eventually see you again but he hadn’t expected it to be for a completely different reason than what he had in mind.
Sunshine peaked through your window, shining on your face as you slowly opened your eyes. Looking around, you realized you were back home and in your own bed. In-ho actually kept his promise. Your eyes widened at the brief case of cash that lay on the bed beside you. For the first time in your life, fucking a man actually benefited you.
For the next couple weeks, you paid off whatever debts you had and made upgrades to your life. You earned that money and you’d spend it however you saw fit. Your happy streak didn’t last long though as each morning, you grew sicker and sicker.
It was terrible, you were barely able to eat as even the smell of food had you dashing to the bathroom and bending over the toilet, vomiting.
You weren’t sure what was wrong with you so, you decided to pay a quick visit to a doctor. Your doctor ran a variety of tests and informed you that you’d be given your results in a few days.
The days passed in a blur of overwhelming fatigue and nausea. If the games hadn’t killed you, this definitely would.
Finally, you received a call from your doctor about your results.
“Congratulations!” she beamed over the phone and your eyes furrowed in confusion. “You’re pregnant, just a few weeks along.”
The phone fell from your hands and you heard the muffled voice of your doctor asking if everything was alright. You were pregnant. Having only had sex with one person a few weeks ago, you knew exactly who the father was—Hwang In-ho.
You didn’t know what to do. A life was growing inside you, a life you weren’t sure if you wanted to keep or nurture. Absentmindedly, you dialed the number In-ho had given you. After just two rings, you heard his deep voice answer.
“Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting on your call,” he said, a smirk evident in his tone.
“In-ho, I-I’m pregnant,” you spat out.
There was a silence on the other end before he spoke again. “You’re pregnant? Shit, I should’ve known.”
“Yeah, you should’ve,” you snapped. “You came inside me twice and had your dick in me all night. What did you think was going to happen? Now, I’m stuck with something I don’t know what to do with.”
He sighed and paced his quarters. “Listen to me. It was never my intention to have that happen, trust me. But whatever decision you make whether to keep the baby or not, I’ll support you. In fact, I’ll be at your apartment by tonight.”
His words provided a sense of strange comfort for you. Having him over would give you all the answers you needed. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to keep the baby or abort it. None of this was supposed to happen, you fucked him to escape the game, not to have him impregnate you.
“Okay In-ho. Thank you for being understanding, I’ll see you tonight.”
After hanging up, you sat on the new expensive couch you had bought using the money In-ho gave you. Your life had been a roller coaster the last three months, but somehow, In-ho’s words and actions was the calm in the face of the storm. In some twisted way, he was perfect. And you knew if you decided to keep the baby, he would be the perfect father.
#hwang in ho x reader#hwang in ho smut#hwang in ho#in ho squid game#in ho smut#in ho x reader#in ho#the front man x reader#front man squid game#front man x reader#the front man#front man#black reader#squid game x fem!reader#squid game x reader#squid game smut#squid game x you#squid game in ho#squid game front man#squid game fanfic#squid game imagine#squid game fic#squid game x y/n#squid game netflix#squid game season 2#squid game 2#netflix squid game#squid game#squid games#squid game fanart
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♡ I See You
Pairing ── Neteyam x Fem!Omaticaya!Reader Word ── 3k Synopsis ── In which Neteyam gets jealous about the reader having a lot of suitors, as he wants her for himself. Warnings ── A jealous!Neteyam, a little bit of angry!Neteyam, Neteyam wanting to confess to Y/N but having an internal block, Possessive!Neteyam? Yandere!Neteyam?! o.O (I wasn't expecting this as I wrote it, fr) Fluffy moments ahead! Let me know if I should warn something :) A/n ── This is my first fic/imagine of Neteyam (hearts in my eyes). I saw the film a long time ago, but I never wrote an imagine for this lovely boy. But now, here I am! Let me know if you liked it <3 Images are not mine, so credit goes to the respective owners. English is not my first language!
Neteyam was irritated. Anyone who looked at him could tell he was practically steaming, his narrowed eyes glued to the ground, his firm steps carrying him somewhere far away from the clan before he did something he might regret—or something that would earn him a stern lecture (and punishment) from Jake later on.
Once again, the eldest Sully had seen Y/n being politely courted by one of the other boys in the clan. He chuckled bitterly to himself, almost scoffing. Of course, Y/n was being courted by every young Omaticaya in the hopes of making her their mate.
If this had been a few years ago, back when Neteyam wasn’t even aware of Y/n’s existence—too busy with training and missions assigned by his father—he wouldn’t have cared about her constantly being approached. But from the moment he truly noticed her, something inside him had shifted. And that something drove him to the brink of madness every time another boy approached her.
Of course, he couldn’t expect that not to happen. Y/n was, by far, the most beautiful young woman in the clan. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t only her perfectly amber eyes, designed so flawlessly by Eywa, or her long, dark hair that seemed to reflect all of Pandora’s natural light, or even her radiant smile that adorned her small, round face so perfectly. No, it was more than just her looks, though the entire clan—especially the young Omaticaya men—had to notice those things about her, too.
Still, Neteyam was utterly jealous. And furious. He couldn’t just hide Y/n away from everyone, keep her somewhere safe where only he could see her, appreciate her, talk to her. Maybe even touch her—if he didn’t combust from the thought alone.
Every time he interacted with Y/n, Neteyam’s heart would pound harder and faster, his face would flush, and his palms would sweat. When he first started feeling this way, the Omaticaya thought he was ill and grew concerned, which drew Jake’s attention. Eventually, Neteyam couldn’t keep it to himself and told his father what was bothering him.
Jake Sully had to fight back a laugh when his eldest said he was in love—though not in those exact words. Still, Jake kept a serious face to maintain his authority. Jake liked Y/n; she was a good girl. He had practically watched her grow up, just as he’d watched Neteyam grow up. But he didn’t like how much she was distracting his son. As a final piece of advice, the patriarch told his son to focus harder on his training until he felt ready to confess his feelings.
And so, until that day came, Neteyam settled for forming a friendship with the young woman. He poured himself into his training, trying harder every day to push those feelings away.
Neytiri, on the other hand, had noticed what was happening without needing a word from Neteyam. She saw how he acted whenever Y/n was nearby during any clan gathering. She saw his reactions as he struggled to hide his emotions, forget them, and behave naturally around the girl. Neytiri liked Y/n, too. She thought the young woman was beautiful, talented, and caring. If it was Eywa’s will, she would gladly welcome Y/n as a daughter when Neteyam finally woke up and claimed her as his mate.
But Neytiri thought that day might take a while—and she hoped it wouldn’t be too late by the time Neteyam finally confessed.
“Neteyam?” Y/n’s sweet, melodic voice called from behind him, breaking through his thoughts. He kept walking, his long, purposeful strides carrying him anywhere far from the girl who occupied his mind—and who was now standing right behind him.
Neteyam didn’t stop walking, but his ears, along with the stiffness in his tail and shoulders, betrayed that he had heard Y/n and was fully aware of her presence.
Y/n was confused but decided to follow him in silence. She trailed after the boy through paths filled with lush vegetation and small animals, eventually arriving at a breathtaking view of Pandora from the heights of one of the great trees. The girl smiled at the sight but quickly turned her attention to Neteyam, noticing how he stood quietly, avoiding her gaze, seemingly trying to calm himself.
“Did something happen?” Y/n asked softly, taking a careful step closer but keeping some distance between them.
Neteyam swallowed down the words that were forming like a lump in his throat—words like: You shouldn’t be accepting courtships when I’m around. But he couldn’t hold back the frustrated sigh that escaped his lips. “It’s nothing,” he replied simply and calmly. He would never burden her with his confusion or irritation. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was so beautiful and skilled.
“Nete, it doesn’t seem like nothing,” Y/n said with a small laugh. The moment the nickname left her lips, Neteyam’s heart jumped wildly in his chest.
Still, he remained silent, his face beginning to flush as he stood there, choosing to focus on the view of Pandora. The sun was already starting to set, making way for the night.
“Well... I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have meddled…” Y/n said softly after receiving no response, her tone a little embarrassed. She had known Neteyam for years and had never wanted to be a burden to him—quite the opposite.
The Omaticaya girl had always had her eyes on the eldest Sully, the first son of Toruk Mak'to, even before they had built their friendship. Of course, her feelings weren’t tied to his status as the son of a leader but rather to Neteyam’s gentle yet strong demeanor.
His sharp, observant eyes. His posture—one that had been largely shaped by Jake Sully’s expectations, yet which Neteyam carried with a natural grace. His careful, steady way of speaking, free of judgment. And, most of all, the way he would laugh wholeheartedly whenever he had to save Lo’ak from his own troubles.
"I... I didn’t mean to bother you, Neteyam. Sorry," Y/n said, clasping her hands together. Her ears lowered softly, and her tail stopped swaying slowly from side to side.
Before she could leave, though, the Omaticaya stopped her.
"No," Neteyam said quickly, finally meeting her eyes. He straightened himself, feeling the warmth on his face intensify, spreading to his ears, neck, and soon, he was sure, his chest. Taking an almost imperceptible deep breath, he added, "You're not a bother. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to." His voice was soft, and he moved closer to the edge of the tree, sitting down and letting his long legs dangle in the air. The last thing he wanted was for Y/n to think she was a nuisance.
The girl smiled slightly at his words, a bit of her earlier energy returning. Being near Neteyam was gratifying, and she loved it. She loved talking to him, feeling close to him in any way. With gentle steps, she moved to sit beside him, admiring the view.
"This is beautiful," Y/n said, her gaze fixed on the scenery—the setting sun casting its warm hues over Pandora.
Neteyam turned his eyes to her again, mesmerized by the golden light illuminating her face, enhancing her already stunning features.
"It really is," Neteyam replied calmly, though his gaze wasn’t on the scenery but on Y/n.
As soon as she looked at him, he quickly averted his eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Is Jake being hard on you with training, Nete?" Y/n tried to start a conversation. "Is that why you were so upset?"
"A little..." Neteyam replied, avoiding her gaze. He wasn’t telling the full truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. Jake always seemed to expect more and more from him. "I’m just a bit tired, that’s all."
"No days off, huh?" Y/n chuckled softly through her nose. "Jake just wants you to be perfect, Nete. You’re the leader’s son, Toruk Mak’to’s son. There are a lot of expectations for you to meet."
"And that doesn’t help me at all," the boy replied, eliciting laughter from the Omaticaya beside him. Neteyam allowed himself a small smile as he listened to her laugh, watching her face light up.
"The hunting ritual is coming up..." the girl pointed out, softly swinging her legs where they hung over the edge. "Maybe Jake will let you rest after that."
"I’m not so sure about that."
A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/n turned her gaze back to the breathtaking scenery, but Neteyam’s eyes stayed fixed on her, admiring her quietly. He loved moments like this—talking to Y/n, sitting in silence with Y/n. Everything about it felt natural. Like it was meant to be.
"You... you’ll have to make a big choice," Y/n began softly, her voice tinged with hesitation. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
Neteyam didn’t entirely understand her words but chose to remain quiet. Deep down, he knew he could listen to Y/n talk for hours—even if, perhaps, he didn’t fully grasp everything she said.
"Have you already chosen?" Y/n asked timidly, her eyes finally meeting his. Neteyam hadn’t taken his gaze off her.
"Chosen?" Neteyam echoed, a little confused, snapping out of the dreamy state her presence always seemed to put him in.
"I mean... your mate, of course," Y/n clarified, her voice quieter now, tinged with embarrassment.
The truth was, Y/n was scared of his answer. If Neteyam said yes, if he already had someone in mind to share his life with, it would crush any hope she had. But even so, she needed to know.
"Mate?" Neteyam repeated, slightly stunned. Her gaze bore into him, making him straighten his posture. He swallowed hard under her careful observation of his sharp, strong features. "No... I-I haven’t," he stammered, finally looking away. His ears twitched anxiously.
The truth was that Neteyam’s heart had already answered the question for him—loudly and undeniably. The moment Y/n mentioned "mate," his thoughts returned to the hunting ritual and the decision he would have to make afterward. And his mind landed firmly on Y/n.
Because it was her. It had always been her. Y/n was the one he wanted as his mate, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, to share every moment with.
Neteyam grew nervous as he imagined Y/n waiting for him in their shared home, arms open, ready to embrace him, kiss him, and care for him just as he would care for her. And he would do it well—he was certain of that.
A small but happy smile flickered across Y/n’s lips upon hearing Neteyam’s response that he hadn’t chosen a mate yet.
“Have you… noticed any, um, approaches?” Y/n asked softly, her voice almost a purr, knowing this was her chance and determined not to let it slip away. Not when Neteyam stirred her heart in ways no one else could. Not when she longed to hear his voice or feel close to him.
Of course, just like Y/n, Neteyam was a target of attention. The difference, however, was that Omaticaya girls weren’t as aggressive in their advances toward him. Getting close to him without at least being friends with his siblings was no easy task. And even then, finding a moment to be near him during his rare free time was nearly impossible. Yet Y/n managed it every time.
If anyone hoped to be courted by Neteyam, they had to make their feelings and intentions clear due to his limited availability and the fact that he wasn’t exactly the most expressive Na’vi. Y/n had tried to make her interest obvious around him, but the boy didn’t seem to notice.
Eywa knows how many courting gifts Y/n had carefully declined, all the while hoping to receive one from a particular Na’vi—the eldest Sully. With the hunting ritual so close, perhaps it was finally time for her to be a bit more forward in showing her interest, though still delicately. She didn’t want Neteyam to think poorly of her—not that he could, even if he tried.
“No, I haven’t noticed,” Neteyam replied truthfully to her question. The fact was, he rarely paid attention to anything outside of his parents’ demands, Lo’ak’s troubles, his siblings’ safety, and, of course, every move Y/n made.
“Well… plenty of girls would love to be courted by you,” Y/n said sweetly, letting out a soft laugh as she leaned ever so slightly toward him, her tail moving lightly along the ground. Neteyam’s ears twitched at her words, his gaze drawn to her once more. His own tail began to shift, unconsciously seeking hers.
But then, the scene from earlier crept into his mind—a boy standing close to Y/n, talking to her, laughing as if there were no tomorrow, clearly thrilled to be near her. The memory made Neteyam’s brows knit slightly together, and he found himself looking away from her.
“Yeah. From what I’ve noticed, many are courting you,” Neteyam said, trying to manage the irritation bubbling up inside him. He’d almost forgotten it, but now it had resurfaced. A new thought struck him, making him feel both nervous and uneasy. “You… have you already chosen a mate?” he asked carefully, bringing his eyes back to her.
“No,” she answered simply.
“No? Why not? You…” He cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly. “You’re an incredible girl. I’ve seen what you do for everyone in the clan. You tend to the injured, help prepare for rituals, assist mothers with their children… you’ve even helped my mother.” Neteyam’s voice grew a little shaky, his ears flicking nervously, his tail moving restlessly behind him. He vividly remembered the day Lo’ak got himself into serious trouble, forcing him, Neytiri, and Jake to go and drag his brother back. In their absence, Y/n had kept Kiri and Tuk company, distracting them with her kindness and warmth.
Y/n smiled, realizing that Neteyam had noticed something about her. The boy steadied himself before speaking again.
“Why haven’t you chosen anyone?” Neteyam asked simply, his voice low, though his eyes stayed fixed on the girl beside him.
“I’m waiting…” Y/n began in the same tone, looking deeply at him. “…for someone to make me an offer.”
Neteyam averted his gaze, assuming Y/n was talking about a specific Omaticaya in the clan. His thoughts spiraled, imagining anyone but himself in her mind—something Y/n was trying to make obvious with her intent gaze and the subtle movements of her tail inching closer to his.
“Well…” Neteyam said, trying to swallow the frustration brewing inside him over whichever lucky Na’vi had managed to catch Y/n’s eyes and heart. Maybe he’d challenge him to a duel if he found out. “It shouldn’t take long,” he said simply, still not looking at her, his earlier sour mood returning.
“It could happen now,” Y/n suggested, tilting her head slightly, attempting to catch Neteyam’s gaze.
“Now?” Neteyam asked, looking around and confirming they were still alone. There wasn’t another Omaticaya in sight that he could aim his fists at.
“Yes, now,” Y/n replied, his attention now fully on her. She fluttered her eyelashes gracefully, hoping he would understand her meaning.
“How ‘now’? It’s just us here,” he muttered, confused, though his heart skipped a beat as he caught her beautiful lashes in motion, momentarily forgetting his impulse to pummel some imaginary rival.
Y/n sighed, realizing she needed to be more direct if she wanted him to understand what she meant.
“Nete…” She swallowed hard, steeling herself for what felt like an immense challenge. She placed her hand gently over his, watching his eyes slowly widen as his ears perked up in surprise. “…I see you,” Y/n confessed intensely, her breath quickening as her heart raced uncontrollably.
Neteyam, on the other hand, was frozen in place. His wide eyes and dilated pupils were locked on the girl in front of him, his body entirely still as he processed her words.
“It’s true that I was waiting for something from you,” the girl began, embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. “But... you don’t have to feel pressured by me. I know you’ll have other great options for a mate.” She let out a small, almost bitter laugh.
The Omaticaya boy snapped out of his stupor, blinking several times in quick succession, his pupils dilating greatly, his heart racing faster than ever before. As soon as Y/n pulled her hand from his, Neteyam quickly but gently grasped it, not wanting to startle her.
“Y/n,” the boy called softly, still surprised by her words. She wanted to be courted by him.
Even though Neteyam was consumed with happiness, staring at her intensely, the words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to say “I see you” like he had imagined so many times, but with his heart pounding and his shock overwhelming him, he could only open his lips several times, struggling to find the right words.
Y/n looked at him shyly, waiting for him to say something, while the boy still held her hand gently, preventing her from going anywhere. He traced her soft skin with his thumb, his gaze still locked on her, hoping she would understand him without words, because he certainly would stutter if he started to confess.
The girl looked down at their hands joined softly, gripping Neteyam’s hand firmly, but soon she lifted her gaze back to him, watching him swallow hard.
“Do you feel the same?” Y/n asked quietly, leaning in slightly, and the only thing Neteyam could do was nod—quickly, almost too fast, which made her smile even wider.
Even with his heart practically on fire, the boy swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the young woman beside him.
“Y/n, I see you,” Neteyam said as if making a promise, though it was whispered, it was intense. It was clear that his chest was rising and falling quickly, with a brief flush of purple creeping up his face, his ears, slowly descending to his neck.
Y/n smiled wider, the same color beginning to tint her cheeks. With her beautiful smile, Neteyam returned a smaller one, still immersed in emotions. His skin was showing his anxiety and mild embarrassment, and his palm was starting to grow warmer than usual.
The boy pulled back slightly from the girl, still looking at her, her eyes locked on him with curiosity. Neteyam began to undo one of his bracelets, tightly fastened to his forearm, and once the accessory was removed, he looked at Y/n with expectation.
The girl let out a happy sound, lifting her left forearm to Neteyam, who, with slightly trembling fingers, began to fasten the bracelet onto her. Now, anyone who saw Y/n wearing the accessory would immediately know that she was promised to Neteyam, as the Omaticaya wore the matching pair on his right forearm.
"In the hunting ritual..." Neteyam began softly as he adjusted the bracelet on Y/n. "I will bring the largest animal I find for the clan. And after that, I will come to you and ask if you would choose me as your mate in front of everyone." He continued, his voice still quiet, a little embarrassed but happy, watching the bracelet settle perfectly on the girl. "This is my first courting gift. But please, don't worry, I will give you more gifts so you can adorn yourself with them until the ritual. And also, after it." The boy smiled at her, making the girl laugh too, filled with happiness.
"And I will make your adornments," Y/n replied, thinking of the accessories she had already made for Neteyam, but never had the courage to gift him. However, from now on, she saw no problem in doing so.
The Omaticaya boy smiled at her, gently bringing their foreheads together, and she responded without hesitation, closing her eyes in delight and happiness. Neteyam turned his gaze back to the landscape in front of them, feeling Y/n settle close to his body, resting her head between his neck and shoulder. He accepted her presence gladly, holding her close as they both silently admired the beautiful, dusk-lit landscape of Pandora, content in their mutual affection.
With Neteyam holding the girl firmly and gently beside him, his tail swayed slightly, finding hers, and they wasted no time in intertwining them, causing both to share small, happy laughs. And behind the couple, Atokirinas—the seeds of the Tree of Life—floated softly, undisturbed, as the young pair embraced in front of Pandora's giant moon.
#delulusionwl#avatar the way of water#neteyam#neteyam x reader#neteyam sully#x reader#avatar 2#avatar twow#avatar#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x you
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Behind the camera: babysitting Chiara
hello guys!! (read that in Arthur's voice) im back and i had this on my mind since i saw this picture
The warmth of the Trouche-Leclerc home in Monaco was unmatched during the holiday season. The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, and fairy lights twinkled on the tree that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. The Leclerc’s had always cherished Christmas, but this year felt even more special. Joris had joined the celebrations, and they had a special guest for the day: baby Chiara, the adorable daughter of their best friends.
They were interrupted by the sound of keys jingling at the door. Charles walked in, bundled in his winter coat, a mischievous smile on his face.
“Qu’est-ce que vous faites tous les deux? (What are you two doing?)” he asked, shrugging off his coat and scarf.
“Rien de spécial. We have Chiara for a day” replies Yn to her brother as she comes to hug him.
Marta and Riccardo had entrusted Yn and Joris to babysit Chiara while they ran some last-minute errands. Charles, of course, had opinions about the situation.
“Tu es sûre que c’est une bonne idée? (Are you sure this is a good idea?)” Charles asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on his lips. “You and Joris, alone with a baby?”
Yn shot her twin an exasperated look as she adjusted Chiara’s tiny Santa hat. “Charles, she’s a baby, not a Formula 1 car. I think we can manage.”
Joris chuckled, placing a bottle of milk on the coffee table. “Plus, we’re her godparents. We’ve got this.”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that. Don’t call me when she starts crying.”
“Oh, please,” Yn scoffed. “You’ll be the first one running in to help.”
Chiara, blissfully unaware of the banter, let out a happy giggle, her hands reaching for Yn’s hair. Yn smiled down at her, her heart melting.
“Tu crois qu’elle s’amuse bien avec nous, hein? (You think she’s having fun with us, huh?)” Y/N called to Joris, who was kneeling on the floor beside Chiara, stacking colorful building blocks.
“Évidemment,” Joris replied with a grin, balancing a block precariously. “Elle adore son parrain, n’est-ce pas, Chiara? (She loves her godfather, don’t you?)”
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The first hour went smoothly. Joris played peek-a-boo with Chiara, earning endless giggles, while Yn set up a play area with colorful toys. Charles occasionally peeked in from the kitchen, where he was “helpfully” eating cookies and offering unsolicited advice.
“Tu devrais la faire dormir maintenant, sinon elle sera de mauvaise humeur plus tard. (You should put her to sleep now, or she’ll be in a bad mood later.)”
Yn rolled her eyes. “Merci, Dr. Leclerc. We’ve got it under control.” (Thank you, Dr. Leclerc.)
Joris chimed in with a grin. “Charles, maybe you should stick to driving and leave the babysitting advice to us.”
Charles held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
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By mid-afternoon, things got a little more chaotic. Chiara decided she wasn’t interested in her toys anymore and started fussing.
“I think she’s hungry,” Joris suggested, already reaching for the bottle.
Yn took Chiara in her arms, rocking her gently. “Do you want your bottle, Chiara?” she cooed. The baby’s cries softened slightly as Yn fed her, though her big blue eyes stayed wide open.
Charles wandered back into the room, a smug expression on his face. “Elle pleurait, non? Je l’avais dit. (She was crying, wasn’t she? I told you.)”
Yn shot him a glare. “Si tu veux vraiment aider, passe-moi une serviette. (If you really want to help, pass me a cloth)”
Charles laughed but complied, tossing a burp cloth to Yn. “You’re lucky she’s cute”
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As the day wore on, Chiara’s energy began to drown. Yn and Joris managed to put her down for a nap, and the three of them sat on the couch, exhausted but content.
“She’s more work than I expected,” Joris admitted, leaning his head back against the couch.
“Mais elle est adorable, alors ça vaut le coup. (But she’s adorable, so it’s worth it.)” Yn smiled, watching the tiny rise and fall of Chiara’s chest as she slept in her crib.
Charles plopped down beside them, handing Yn a mug of hot chocolate. “I’ll admit, you two did a good job. Chiara’s still in one piece.”
“High praise coming from you,” Yn teased, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.
Joris laughed. “Next time, Charles, you’re joining us for babysitting duty.”
Charles’s eyes widened. “Non, merci! (No, thank you!) I’ll stick to being the fun uncle.”
The three of them laughed, the room filled with warmth and the twinkle of Christmas lights. The sound of the front door signaled Marta and Riccardo’s return. They stepped inside, greeted by the sight of Chiara fast asleep, Yn and Joris cuddled on the couch, and Charles nearly asleep on the other end of the couch.
“Looks like she had the best day,” Marta whispered, her eyes shining as she looked at her daughter.
Riccardo grinned. “And you survived babysitting. Bravo.”
Yn smiled, her heart full. “It was a day to remember.”
let me know what you think <3 <3
#f1 imagine#charles leclerc imagine#f1 drivers x reader#behind the camera fic#f1 fic#f1 x reader#charles leclerc x reader
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If you ever want proof of the “you’re not immune to propoganda” meme I would like to tell you the story of my mother:
My mother is a first generation American who came to the US in the 80s. She was a young girl who grew up in NYC. Her parents had to seek asylum in the US for persecution. She saw what the world was like at its worst at a very young age. She was surrounded by black and brown kids, many of whom had a parent or immediate relative in jail. Her neighbors were addicts and dealers. Her parents struggled to maintain citizenship and jobs to survive in this country.
She went on to not only graduate college but get a masters degree. First in our family. She was one of the most educated people in our family for a time. We had relatives who couldn’t even read and they would actually cry at the sight of her and hearing her speak about topics.
She went on to be super progressive. She worked in the field of humanitarian law for many years. She worked with lawyers to get illegal immigrants asylum. She worked with lawyers who would get rights for prisoners. She advocated for more medical care and for progressive therapeutic techniques (such as introducing the arts) into nyc prisons. If there was a protest in Manhattan, she was there. This woman volunteered at planned parenthood. This woman would bring me to pride events as a child. This woman advocated against the invasion of Iraq post 9/11, which was a very controversial take at the time.
And then. Around 2021, she needed to have surgery and was bed bound for a couple months. She had nothing to entertain herself except what was around her bed: books, a tv, and of course, her cell phone. Practically overnight her social media feeds were flooded with extreme right wing propaganda. I have no idea how some of that content made it past the “sensors” that these apps swear they have. When I would point out this content, she would laugh and say how she “just wants to hear what they have to say”. But her feed kept getting worse.
By the time she was healed, she was a completely different person. A true 180 in personality. She’s all the “phobics” you can think of. She thinks schools are turning kids gay. She thinks fluoride in the water is poisonous. She thinks the Covid vaccine had a tracking device. She thinks libraries are communist propaganda (I’m literally a librarian lol). She thinks essentially every minority who tells a story of when they were treated badly is lying. She thinks all gay people are pedophiles. She thinks all trans people are mentally ill. She pushes religion on me and all her family/friends constantly. She doesn’t believe in climate change. She thinks the DOE should be abolished. She thinks all kids should be forced to read the Bible. She thinks abortion is a sin and anyone who does it is going to hell. She thinks girls shouldn’t go to school and should be trained solely to be wives and mothers. She thinks all “non Americans” should be deported (yes, including her own family members). I could go on.
The point is. Even with the education and upbringing, a historically progressive person in a historically progressive place can turn conservative at the blink of an eye, especially with the current technology. I have seen it before, especially with older people, but I am also seeing it with the younger generation (mainly teenagers) as well. I say this especially now because since the election results, I have seen social media on BOTH political sides get extremely conservative to the point where it’s scary. It started with little things like “trad wives” and now I see people supporting the invasion of allied nations. In these extremely unprecedented times, I truly suggest people be very careful with what they consume, because it is very easy to fall into this hole of conservatism that I am sure will lead to fascism. And AI has made things infinitely harder. As long as we remain aware and vigilant, I truly believe a large portion of the public will be able to fight back. But to do that, we have to be very careful and aware, and I hate to say it but a majority of people do not want to put in that kind of work. I mean… look at TikTok…
Anyways. I hate to say it, but I think it’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets better. I just hope “better” is actually something tolerable and hopeful. Please be aware.
#before you ask yes we are no contact#heartbreaking#rant post#conservative#progressive#idk tags to add so whatever#first post in a LONG time and this is what I make lol#also you can’t have a normal convo with her. you ask her fave soup and she’ll bring up trump and evil dems#like okay babes it’s giving chronically online in the opposite direction I guess
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Cleanse
Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader
Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI
Description: In the baths, you contemplate both your present and future with Titus. Little do you know, unfriendly eyes are watching.
I'll say this once, if you're a fan of Leandros, this story arc may not be for you. 😈
(To read the rest of the fics in this series, check out my Masterlist.)
“You’re sure this is allowed?”
You saw no one else in the vaulted chamber, yet still felt the need to whisper. Part of you felt like a misbehaving child. The rest of you shivered with barely disguised glee.
“Of course it is!” Vesta rolled her eyes. “I told you, my unc- I mean, Lord Callistus specifically gave me permission.”
“But he didn’t give me permission.”
“Worry wart.” Your friend giggled. “Just look at this place!”
You did. High ceilings adorned with blue and gold mosaics soared above you. Columns wider than the reach of your arms lined the walls. Every polished marble surface gleamed in the flickering candlelight.
But the thing that truly made you catch your breath was the great pool of steaming water stretching from one end of the room to the other.
On your homeworld, you’d played in mountain streams. Since becoming a serf, you’d learned of lakes and oceans. But this was by far the most still water you’d ever seen in one place. The steam curling from its rippling surface moistened your skin and filled your lungs.
“What if one of the Marines comes in?”
Vesta was already laying out her bucket of supplies: soap, brushes, and washing cloths. She shook her head.
“Those that aren’t sleeping are preparing for our arrival at Demerium. Unc- Lord Callistus told me so. You, yourself, told me your Lord Titus was in strategy meetings with his squad.” She shot you a wry look. “I’m only glad you finally seem to have a free moment. I’ve barely seen you since we left Avarax!”
You felt heat rush to your face and turned away, pretending to examine the carvings on a nearby pillar.
“De-Demetrian!”
“Yes. Cry my name.”
“Deme- ah!”
“Good girl. You can take more, can you not?”
“I-I….”
“Please, Little Healer. I need you.”
Demetrian had been insatiable the last few days, pulling (or throwing) you into bed at every opportunity. Only a frustrated vox call from his squadmates finally dragged him from your side. You remembered the mournful look in his eyes as he left you.
Warm liquid hit you in the back of the head, soaking your thin robe. You gasped and turned to find Vesta holding the dripping bucket. She giggled.
“Are you going to stare at that pillar all night? Or are you- eek!”
You cupped a handful of water and flung it back at your friend. She squealed and darted away. You forced yourself to relax.
“You go first, Vesta. I’ll watch in case any of the cleaning serfs try to come in.”
“Ah, good idea.” She slipped off her clothes and settled into the water with a sigh.
You tensed when she sank under. “Vesta!”
She surged up again, shaking her wet curls out of her eyes. “What are you worrying about now?”
“How deep is it?”
“It’s a bath for Astartes, how deep do you think it is?” With another giggle she pushed away from the wall and paddled farther into the pool.
You cocked your head to one side as you watched. “I didn’t know you could swim.”
“I learned when I was a little girl on Macragge. At my family’s seaside estate.”
“Your family had an estate?”
“Mmmhmm.” She dove under again, reappearing in another part of the pool.
Nobility?! How in the Emperor’s Name…?
Vesta caught your eye and grinned, paddling back to the side. “You should see the look on your face!” The grin faded. “Fine. Fine. Hand me the soap and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
***
“...and so, after the plague took my parents and siblings, the inheritance came down to me, or an older cousin. I was little, so I don’t remember much. But apparently the arguments were fierce. Finally, my cousin decided to bring in the only other living member of our House to mediate.”
You sat at the edge of the pool, feet in the steaming water, as you watched Vesta rub the soap through her hair.
“You don’t mean…?”
The medica nodded. “Lord Callistus’ portrait had hung in our grand hall for longer than I can remember. Father used to hold me up so I could see, telling me the story of how his great grandmother’s older brother had become an Ultramarine, bringing honor to our family. But, of course, he’d never met the man. None of us had.”
Vesta paused, eyes going distant. “Uncle tells me I looked like a scared rabbit when he first saw me. All alone and small and helpless. I reminded him of his little sister.” She smiled. “Anyway, my cousin had the stronger claim, so the estate went to him. And I went with Uncle Callistus.”
You looked at your friend with a clinical eye. Unscarred. Well-fed. With a lightness of manner lacking in many of the other serfs you’d encountered.
“He treats you well.”
“More like a daughter, or well, a niece, than a serf.” She nodded. “Oh, he’s a bit gruff and exacting. Not one to allow his medicae to slack off, that’s for sure!” She laughed. “But he’s kind for all that.”
She leaned back, rinsing the soap from her hair. “I’ve told him about you.”
You sat upright. “You have?”
“Mmmhmm. He says a serf with prior medical knowledge is wasted attending to just one Marine.”
A cold knot of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. “I’m content where I am, Vesta.”
“I know. You’ve told me how wonderful a lord Titus is. Over and over again.” She smirked.
You felt your face heating again, wondering just how effusive you’d been with your praise.
Did she suspect…? No. No, surely not.
Vesta continued, her face going serious. “But, well, we’re about to go into battle. And I’ve heard what can happen to personal serfs left all alone.”
The cold knot hardened into a ball of ice. You remembered cowering in Demetrian’s locked quarters when you first arrived. You remembered the terror, the despair, of thinking he’d died.
You hadn’t cared what would happen to you.
“Have you,” your voice rasped, “have you heard anything about why we’re going to Demerium?”
Vesta folded her arms on the edge of the pool. A rare frown creased her face.
The words kept coming. “Surely it isn’t so bad. Not worse than Tyranids. And Deme- Lord Titus has conquered the vile insects before.”
Barely.
Your mind flashed to the reason for his conversion to Primaris. The new scars, ragged and red. The haggard look in his eye when he returned from each battle. The way he clung to you these past few days.
Vesta remained silent for a long while. “Usually I can discern something, just from what the Apothecaries are doing. The tools and medicines they prepare. But this time…?” She shook her head. “Not even Uncle has said anything. But it’s going to be bad, my friend, I can tell.”
“The Emperor protects.” You whispered.
“The Emperor protects.” Vesta heaved herself up out of the pool and reached for a towel. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sure Lord Titus will be fine!”
You saw straight through her false cheer.
She noticed, and came to stand next to you, wrapping a damp arm about your shoulders. “I just want you to know if, Emperor forbid, the worst should happen, you’ll have a place in the Apothecarion. I swear it!”
Leaning into her, you tried to smile. “You’re a true friend, Vesta.”
For once, she seemed at a loss for words, hugging you tight. Then, a look of alarm came over her freckled features.
“Throne damn it! I lost all sense of time!” She began frantically pulling on her underclothes and robe. “I promised Uncle I’d be back within two hours to finish the requisition reports!”
A real smile crept across your face at your friend’s antics.
She flung her bathing supplies into their bucket. “He’ll tan my hide if I turn in late paperwork…again. Well, not really. But I’d rather not be on the receiving end of one of his lectures!” She hesitated, looking toward you.
You waved her away. “Go on. I’ll be fine. Like you said, no one should come in at this time of night. And I just wanted to wash my hair, anyway.”
“If you’re sure. Thanks!” She skidded out of the chamber.
Like the sun going behind a cloud, your brief mirth faded. Vesta’s words echoed in your mind. Old fears reared their ugly heads.
You bent and splashed some of the warm water on your face. “I can’t think like this. I can’t.”
The steaming pool called your name, promising a brief moment of comfort.
You carefully removed your robe and underclothes. At least with Vesta gone, you no longer had to hide your winces. The flesh between your legs still ached. And when you bent over the water and saw your reflection….
“Throne of Terra….”
Bruises dotted your skin. Your neck, your breasts, your thighs. Many in the shape of large hands.
You gingerly touched the teeth marks in your shoulder. “How in the Warp would I have explained this to you, Vesta?”
Demetrian had never been so rough with you before. You should be annoyed, frightened, even.
Instead….
You ran your hands over each mark, remembering his touch, the rasp of calluses against your skin. When you reached your breasts, you remembered the heat of his mouth. Your nipples hardened beneath your fingers.
“Oh Throne….”
Desire pulsed in your core.
You tried to ignore it as you slipped into the pool. But the enveloping touch of the warm water drew a sharp gasp from your lips. After a year of cold showers and hurried sponge baths, it felt divine.
As your body relaxed, your mind wandered.
Blue eyes. Looking at you with a wonder-filled intensity. Like you provided something he could not believe he had and could not live without. He could steal your breath with a glance.
A strong body. Massive and scarred and so much more than any baseline man. Those arms had torn xenos in two with little effort. You were helpless in their embrace.
And that voice….
“Little Healer.”
Emperor forgive you, you loved it all. You loved him.
A moan burst from your lips as your hand ventured between your legs, sheer need overriding any lingering soreness.
I shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not here!
But you couldn’t control your fingers, or the memories that raced through your mind. His hands. His tongue. The great weight of him above you. The burning stretch of his length within you.
What if he doesn’t return from this battle? What if these memories are all I will ever have?
You worked yourself faster. Pleasure rising…rising…rising….
Until it crested.
“Demetrian!”
***
Eyes watched the serf girl from the far corner of the room, shrouded in shadow. She hadn’t noticed his entrance. Too lost in her shameful indulgence.
The eyes glinted with outrage.
“Demetrian!”
Lips curled into a snarl. He recognized this girl. He’d seen her sneaking away from what he now realized was a clandestine liaison with the disgraced Capt- Lieutenant. He cursed himself for his mental slip.
Not a Captain! No longer deserving of that rank, if he ever was to begin with.
His fists clenched. A soft splash returned his attention to the girl.
She climbed out of the water and paused on her knees. He saw the tremble in her limbs. He saw the water drip off her flushed skin, off the pointed tips of her bare, full breasts.
He saw the bruises, the bite marks. Outrage swelled within him once more.
He could destroy the Lieutenant with this. What the Inquisition had failed to do, he could finally accomplish.
Corruption! Heresy!
Yet he didn’t move as the girl stood, drying herself. His eyes remained locked on her unmarred skin. Her rounded curves.
Over and over again he replayed her impassioned cry. His outrage changed, tainted by a new, bitter emotion.
Why Titus? What right did Titus have to…this? To her?
As the girl dressed, a mad impulse came into his head. He imagined himself charging across the baths and tearing away the girl’s clothes. He imagined pinning her to the wall and looking…touching….
He felt himself thickening. Panicked by the unfamiliar sensation, he reached down and grasped his member.
The jolt of pleasure ripped a guttural snarl from his throat.
The girl froze. He saw her head jerk back and forth, yet knew her weak baseline eyes could not pierce the darkened corners.
He watched her gather her things and flee like a frightened prey animal.
Did that make him the predator?
No! The guilty often flee from those who would save their souls.
As he continued running his hand along his stiffened shaft, he found he enjoyed that idea.
So, Titus thought he deserved pleasure. A fallen soul dared to reach for the blessings reserved for the righteous.
Leandros would cleanse him of such filthy perversions. In time, he would cleanse you both.
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#warhammer 40k#demetrian titus#demetrian titus x reader#ultramarines#leandros#i hate that man as much as i love Titus
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✧ Part 1: All the times I knew you
A seemingly ordinary case turns into something more when reader returns to Reid's life. Forcing him to tell something that he never told, the beginning of a story that broke his heart fourteen years ago.
change the ending series masterlist
who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
category: angst/fluff
warnings/content: reader jealous, reader is a little mean to jj (nothing personal, i love that queen), mentions of maeve, allusion to bullying, special appearance of alex blake, reid is a little mean to reader, very vague mentions of a case and reader and reid appear aged 12, 15 and 31. English is not my first language.
word count: 3.1K
a/n: Hello this is the first part of my series 'Change the ending' I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing this. There are a couple of references to the song cardigan (because that is my most personal song and also Spencer's)
14 years, 160 days, 33 minutes and 13 seconds. That was all the time that had passed since Reid last saw you.
It is said that there are always more questions than answers and that has never made more sense than today.
Today's case promised to be average on the Reid scale, of course.
Today promised to be just another day, like the rest. Just an irrelevant Wednesday where he would miss the Sunday of talking to Maeve, which was still fresh in his mind.
As fresh as you, a memory he should have let burn away fourteen years ago. But it wasn't that easy, even without his eidetic memory you attached yourself to his cerebral cortex as if you had been there since the first time he opened his eyes.
If there was one thing he had learned all those years ago, it was that the memories most want to forget are the ones hold on to the most tightly.
"Earth calling Reid." JJ waved her hand in front of his friend's face.
He blinked a few times. “Yeah. What’s up?” He tried to keep his gaze on JJ, but his eyes kept drifting to your shape. So close and so far at the same time... Just like the last time.
Maybe it was a mistake in his mind and it wasn't you, fourteen years had passed. How could he even recognize you? He didn't even know if you were still alive.
Maybe this time it was like when everything ended and he thought he saw you everywhere. In the grocery line, at school, at home...
As if you were a phantom he couldn't get rid of.
He knew those shadows weren't you and yet every time he thought he saw you it was like such a simple activity like breath became complicated out of nowhere. You used to have that effect, honestly you still have it.
Jennifer frowned before turning her gaze to you. But a couple more eyes weren't enough for you realize what was happen. "You know her?" The question caught him off guard.
How should he even answer such a question? Yes, more than anything. No. Of course. Maybe. Neither was a sufficient answer because on the one hand of course he knew you, at least that's how it was before and that's why he didn't know you, at least not now.
He shoved his hands into his pockets before finally looking at JJ. “She looks like someone I used to know.” 100% true? No, but pretty close.
"I was hoping so, it would help us if you met her." Reid frowned. "Bertram is our most viable suspect, if we lose him we're going to hit a wall." JJ explained something that Reid should already know, should.
"And what does that have to do with her?" Reid raised an eyebrow.
JJ was the one who frowned this time. "Spence, she is Bertram's lawyer. Are you okay?"
When he was about to answer, you approached him, increasing his questions, doubts and clumsiness.
"I'm Bertram Harris' lawyer." You introduced yourself before continuing, answering at least one of Spencer's questions. "What is the imaginary evidence against my client? Because if there was real evidence, charges would have already been filed." He knew that harsh tone so well...
"We have 48 hours before we file charges." Reid replied seriously.
"46 hours." You corrected so casually. He recognized you, but you didn't recognize him? Ouch.
"Well, we have a profile-" You didn't let Jennifer finish speaking.
"Profiles." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "I bet a lot of people would fit in your profile, so that's not enough to prove my client guilty in court." You spoke firmly, fierce as a defense lawyer, and you weren't in court yet. And even though he didn't exactly like your attitude, he had to admit that you were good.
Reid crossed his arms. "Out of so many people, it's amazing that the evidence will lead us right to your client. So we'll take advantage of the 46 hours we have left."
You snorted. "Fine, but when time passes and all of you have nothing against my client, he'll be upset about the time you made him waste." You pulled a pen out of your bag. "Give me your names."
JJ and Spencer shared a look before sighing and agreeing to your request. "Jennifer Jareau." You jotted the name down on your palm.
"Spencer Reid." A hint of mockery crept into his serious tone. Yes, you probably didn't remember his face, but his name was something you'd never forget.
You barely wrote the S on your palm and it was like the ink turned to poison when it came into contact with your skin. You immediately rubbed your palm against your trousers before looking up. "Spencer Re...?" The last few letters died in your mouth.
Of course, no one else had those beautiful eyes with hazel colors and golden flecks. So bright, so honest, so innocent. But now in those eyes there was nothing more than severity.
JJ's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to Reid, using her profiling skills to determine why the air had suddenly become so thick.
"You look... Different." You whispered as he suddenly decided that silence was his best friend.
The wall he had built so long ago was still as strong as the last time you saw him. The last time he saw you he was so serious but this time after fourteen years he made you feel like you were seventeen again.
"You too." Rather than stating the obvious, that sounded like an insult.
JJ cleared her throat. "Spence." He looked away from you. "You know her?" Jennifer whispered in a failed attempt to get you not hear her.
"No." You were surprised at how quickly the letters that came out of his mouth took shape.
"Liar." You pointed out before looking at Jennifer. Though your attention wavered to the ring on her finger. "He knows every inch of me." You lifted your chin.
JJ raised her eyebrows and the way she looked at Reid it seemed more like gossip to her than a tease...
You thought. <<Yeah, maybe she doesn't>>
"Her husband's name is Will. It's not me, she's just my friend." He clarified, though it's not like you were entitled to clarification. At least you hadn't had that right for a long time.
Even when he was just a student he also had that ability to read you like an open book.
"And as for what you said, I'm not a liar." His tone was painfully stern. "I knew you before, fourteen years ago, but that's too long for anyone to remember." That's what he wanted to repeat to himself, because honestly the memories that were about you had no expiration date. "Now and maybe even then I have no idea who you are."
He gave you one last look before turning on his heel and walking off to somewhere where he couldn't sense your presence.
"I'll talk to Bertram about not pressing charges." JJ looked at you in confusion and to be honest even you couldn't believe that a stupid teenage love affair was enough to affect your work. At least you weren't the only one going through something like that.
"And I'm sorry..." A lump formed in your throat. "Maybe I shouldn't even ask you this, but could you deliver something to Spencer?" You then pulled a card out of your bag and handed it to Jennifer.
She studied the black card in her hand for a few seconds, carefully looking at your name and phone number. "Of course, I'll give it to him." She smiled slightly at you.
You gave her an awkward smile before turning away. God, you felt so stupid now for thinking she was his wife. Besides, what would be wrong with him having a wife? Spencer Reid deserved to be happy.
As soon as you left the police station, JJ pulled out his phone. "Penelope, you won't believe what just happened."
∗⋅✧⋅∗
Reid was in a small office going over all the evidence again for a reason he wouldn't admit out loud.
But he had already checked everything three times and had hit a wall all three times. The time it took him to figure things out could vary, but this was different.
What he didn't know was that the answer was there, it's just that his mind was too clouded at the moment to realize it.
And all that mental fog had a name: yours.
He loosened his tie, taking a deep breath to regulate his racing heart. Apparently you still had that effect on him, you, the protagonist of a story so old that it must have already had cobwebs. But unfortunately for him, that wasn't the case...
Spencer gripped the edge of the desk before taking another deep breath.
But his attempts to relax were cut short when his worst enemy: his own memory made him relive the last time he kissed your lips...
The soft skin against each other, the mingled breaths, your hands in his hair and the way he didn't see that those would be the last kisses.
"Another disadvantage of eidetic memory," he told himself. But now that he thought about it, did it have any benefit? Of course it did. But all the tangled threads in his mind didn't allow see the reality.
Someone knocked on the door and he jumped slightly in place before looking towards the door. "Blake..."
Blake smiled slightly at him. "Hi." Her eyes scanned the papers scattered across the desk and then Reid's disheveled appearance. "Is everything okay?"
He nodded quickly, taking his seat back behind the desk. "Yeah." But the way Alex looked at him made him say something else. "Not really."
She sat down in front of him. "Yes, we all know about the pretty lawyer."
"Jennifer..." Reid huffed before running his hands over his face.
"And who is she?" Blake asked in her usual calm tone.
<<Good question>>
A short time ago he was telling her about Maeve, he never thought he would tell Blake about another girl again and not so suddenly... But honestly you weren't another girl, you were THE GIRL.
Reid sighed. "She's nobody." He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It must be someone if the smartest guy I know hasn't already given us a big revelation that will help with this case." Blake looked at him with understanding eyes. "Go ahead Reid, talking about it will help."
Reid rubbed his knees with his hands. "Well I can't tell you who she's, but I can tell you who she was."
∗⋅✧⋅∗
Spencer took a deep breath. "I don't even know where to start."
"The beginning is perhaps the easiest." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging him to continue.
"We had a lot of beginnings, if that's possible." He ran a hand through his hair.
His mind traveled back to the first interaction he had with you, when you were both 12. But before that, something else had to happen for him to get to know you, something very bad.
He was in the library when Harper Hillman approached him.
"Alexa Isben wants to meet you behind the field house." She said.
She was there. So was the entire football team. They stripped him naked and tied him to a goal post. So many kids were there, just watching...
He begged them to, but they just watched. Then finally they got bored and they left.
He had told that story to Morgan years ago, but he had completely erased you from it. Until now.
Alex looked at him with compassion. "It got dark and I thought I would stay there forever. But then she appeared..." He looked away, remembering it as if it were yesterday.
A little twelve-year-old you ran towards the goal post. "Oh my god. Who did this to you?" You kept your eyes fixed on his defeated face.
He had never seen you before, did you even study there? Because you didn't look the same age as the guys he was going to graduate with, the ones who had done this to him...
You looked much younger, like him.
You weren't discouraged by his lack of words, instead you considered how to help him. "Wait here, I'll go get some clothes and some scissors to cut the rope." You didn't wait for an answer, you just ran off to find what you told him.
The cold of the night was beginning to seep through his skin, freezing him. He didn't even think you'd come back, but then. "Be careful with the scissors, if I sting you, let me know." So you put all your effort into cutting the rope, at that moment you regretted not carrying a knife for ease.
Luckily, a single cut was enough to release the rope. You then spread the clothes you had found over him and covered your eyes with your hand.
"I hope it fits, it's my brother's so it might be a little big on you." Spencer took the clothes from your hands.
"Thank you." He whispered as he hurriedly put on each item of clothing. "You can look now." He said once he finished putting on the shirt.
You pulled your hand away from your eyes. “Oh, I forgot the jacket. You must be freezing cold.” You said as you hurriedly unbuttoned your loose black cardigan.
"Oh, you don't have to..." Embarrassment seeped into his words but you still put your cardigan on him.
"It's okay. You need it more than me. By the way, I'm..." Then you told him your name.
He watched as you finished buttoning the cardigan. "Spencer. Spencer Reid."
"You should tell me the names of those who did this to you, then I can tell my mother to expel them. She's the principal." You let your hands fall to your sides.
"It's not that bad..." Yes it was.
"Of course it was!" You exclaimed. "Give me names and I'll beat them up myself. I hate bullies."
Spencer let out a light laugh that quickly disappeared at the bitter feelings bubbling up inside him. "They're the older guys, you can't handle them. Besides, this could have been worse."
"Don't underestimate me." You tried to joke. "Worse? How long have you been tied up there? It's almost midnight" You looked at him with concern.
"Midnight?" His eyes widened. Surely his mother was worried that he hadn't come home.
So you grabbed him by the sleeve of the cardigan and dragged him along. "Come, I'll ask my dad to take you home."
∗⋅✧⋅∗
"So her dad drove you home?" Blake asked.
"Yes. It was like midnight when I got home. My mom didn't even realize I was late. She was having one of her episodes..." He sigh, how could something that had happened so long ago still have such a negative power over him? "I know I shouldn't get into a stranger's car and technically nothing bad happened to me, they helped me. But I did it... Because I felt like I could trust her but maybe it wasn't a good idea from the start."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that to meet her."
Spencer sighed and looked down. "I regret about both."
"Both?" Blake looked at him in confusion.
Reid looked up. "Yeah, what happened that day and meeting her." He replied with a seriousness too cold to be true.
Blake stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds before speaking again. "What happened next?"
"I don't saw her again, it was like she just vanished." He sighed. "Then three years passed and there she was again..."
"I was studying for my first PhD at MIT so I decided that over the holidays I wanted to go home to visit my mother. But instead of taking a flight I decided to travel by train."
It's funny how a single decision can affect our future.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
"The last train to Las Vegas leaves in five minutes." A voice announced through one of the speakers.
"One ticket, please." The woman at the ticket office handed him his ticket once he gave her the money.
Reid was about to board the train when you crashed into it.
"I'm so sorry." you continued to apologize as you helped him up from the floor.
He brushed off his clothes once he was standing again. "It's okay, don't worry."
You tried not to look at him, not after you had thrown him to the floor. But he did look at you which made his heart skip a beat when he recognized you.
He stared in your direction for a couple of seconds before deciding to continue and board the train.
"Oh, I, I had my money here." You patted your jacket pockets. "If you could just help me I'd pay you right away... It's just that it's very important for me to have that ticket because it's the last train to Las Vegas and I really need to go." But the woman at the ticket office didn't take pity on you.
Then Reid came over. "I'll pay for the ticket."
The woman didn't say anything, she just accepted Reid's money and handed you the ticket, which you immediately took.
"Thank you so much, you just saved my life." You followed him to board the train together.
"Okay, we're even now." He smiled slightly at you.
You hadn't planned on sitting next to a complete stranger but you followed him. "We're even?" You asked as he placed his luggage in the compartment.
"I'm Spencer." He hope that will refresh your mind.
You opened your mouth in surprise. "Of course! Spencer Reid, I remember you well." You scanned him from top to bottom. "The answer to where I left my favorite cardigan three years ago." You tried to load your luggage into the compartment but couldn't.
He helped you out, like a true gentleman. "I'm sorry I didn't see you again after that. Do you want it back?" He asked after closing the compartment door.
"You still have it?" You asked in disbelief.
"It's my favorite too." He whispered.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
"I didn't plan on things being like this, but she and I were together the whole trip. Just chatting and-" He looked down as nostalgia washed over him. "Marked me like a blood stain..."
"She seems pretty nice so far." Blake commented. "What went wrong?"
"She was really nice." He sighed. "At that time, nothing bad had happened. In fact, after that incredible trip I lost track of her again and didn't see her again until two years later."
He looked up. "But I didn't really know her until our third beginning, when everything started to go wrong..."
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annotations of annotations? likelier than you think ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ absolutely obsessed with how viv's mind works, and i'm so grateful she took a shot w/me when she asked if i would prefer angst for her milestone request. viv, how i love you so! 🌊🐚🫧
"I only ever had the image of an apocalypse au where despite the turmoil of the world, you could see someone without scars and think that they had someone who loved them, despite and through it all (or some vague but cliche metaphor about scars on the surface healed but the ones below skin deep remaining)."
oh,, girl. that's too good (߹ ᯅ ߹) unfortunately, my angst-addled brain immediately knew that like real people do would not have a happy ending. or just. be a happy story, in general. there's something so achingly tender here, though, in the idea of an apocalypse being made bearable b/c soulmatism-s can undo scars (but not wounds, as viv so succinctly points out).
"The use of "rapture" as the naming of this loss of oxygen was so so interesting, and I like how the motifs of kissing and breath are tied with the name and nature of the apocalypse in this story—rapture as associated with ecstasy, joy, love, and loss of breath (ie something that takes one's breath away)."
this was also Interesting™️ to me, because this fic is only when i realized rapture has a dual meaning! capital-r Rapture vs. the definition of rapture is so different, and that struck me as particularly interesting. on one hand: there is bliss and elation. on the other: the end times. i use capital-r Rapture to describe the apocalypse, but the rapturing of the couple was definitely on my mind the entire time.
"But, on this quote specifically, and this scene—of the scarcity of good air, and the ticking clock that "unnecessary" breath can be—love, including sex, also becomes wasteful."
i'm guilty of the fic drawing parallels to what it looked like during the COVID-19 pandemic. everything from states of national emergencies to lockdowns, just set in 2017 instead of 2020. i dated it with some minor references (i.e. reader watching the santa clarita diet, using skype > zoom), but that's neither here nor there.
viv is right. air/breath/oxygen plays a significant role in this fic just as much as the love does. notably, seungcheol is somewhat suggestive throughout the fic, if only because i can imagine him bartering and begging for some normalcy. seungcheol is not the type to let go of love so easily, even if it comes at a cost. he will hold on to love until it hurts, until it's the only thing he has left to eat.
"Obviously not present in the POV of this fic, but I do like to think that some outsider saw the lack of scars on these two people weathering the end of the world together and understood that they loved and were loved."
oh. oh. of course.
there's a part in the fic where the reader says "You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you,..." which implies it's rare, this whole finding-your-true-soulmate thing. people are used to not marrying their soulmate— why waste your time waiting for someone who might be in an entirely difft. country? someone you might not be compatible with in the first place?
and so maybe strangers are wistful, seeing an unblemished seungcheol scrounging for supplies. maybe strangers yearn when they notice that neither you nor seungcheol have a single scar on your skin. they can only imagine how the two of you trade kisses in his car every evening, how the two of you are eagle-eyed when it comes to each other's injuries.
maybe strangers get mad. and maybe that's how everything ends, how a hurt that cannot be healed is caused. seungcheol is right; people are dangerous when they're desperate. but they are even more dangerous when they are jealous and spiteful, when they see joy in a world that is crumbling.
it's not fair. but when is anything fair at the end of the world?
"anyway, smth smth hope does not have feathers, she has a bloody lip and scars on her chin and dirt under her fingernails, etc—"
<3
"I have chewed on the idea of lists as a sort of antithesis to narrative... Anyway, this list catalogs loss."
the list as a catalogue of loss!!! genius. i love lists, personally (and didion), so there's some definite influences there. i think i wanted the list to be plain and simple— as a small but certain happiness believer, it is so easy to remember there are things we in fact take for granted. even when the world isn't ending. especially when the world isn't ending.
in particular, the list plays into world-building. there is no breeze because of global warming. strangers are no longer kind; everyone is fighting to survive. the fish are dead, the date nights now a memory, and the water is good as gone, too.
and we always just seem to take breakfast/our parents for granted, no matter the universe.
"May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows."
viv clocked me, i fear!!! i'm actually a huge jason mraz fan (LOL, stories for another day) and i did nawt realize i was unconsciously quoting have it all until it got brought up. oh well.
"Not quite accurate to use enjambment here as the term, but the breaking of the lines, along with the use of periods in place of commas, brings a poetic sensibility along with hammering home the idea of an end; where enjambment is the line break that cuts a sentence in a poem, usually with no punctuation at the end of the line, here the sentence is cut, and periods indicate the end."
need it put on record that i am first and foremost a poetry nerd before anything, and so viv to read my work this way scratched an itch in my brain. the 'again. / again. / again.' part vs. 'again, and again, and again.' is intentional, of course, because i can never resist a good callback. the hope of the comma and the finality of the period deserves an entire story on its own, but we ball.
"I guess the lining to all this is simply the fact that even if life did not go on, the love remains and was (is) remembered... Digressing from breath, it reminded me of the last lines of Cold Solace by Anna Belle Kaufman:"
I love you. It will end. Leave something of sweetness and substance in the mouth of the world.
when i first saw viv's annotations, i glazed over everything because i was overwhelmed to be perceived (lol), but i'm now seeing that she quoted one of my favorite poems and. i am decisively not normal about it. this prompt was a dream to accomplish; i was admittedly scared to put it out, at first, because what is angst for the sake of angst. how do we justify a death. can we ever justify it? and yes, the ending may still be good because of remembrance, because of love that persists, but. but. but. there are so many 'but's.
coming into this, i did have some poems that held my hand: like maggie smith's good bones. i'm ending this long-winded reblog here, with a final word on how grateful i am to have made viv's acquaintance. it is one thing to find someone who will match your freak when it comes to adoring the absolute man that is choi seungcheol. it is another thing to tread lightly, to trade poetry, and to know that your stories are in someone's safekeeping. ily, viv. and as the poem goes:
Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.
let's keep trying to make this place *vague hand gestures to the world as a whole* beautiful. :)
like real people do ☢️ seungcheol x reader.
little is known about the apocalypse of 2017. a century later, archivists are now unveiling the relics they found from those who lived through that time.
★ seungcheol x reader. ★ word count: 2.1k ★ genre: alternate universe: apocalypse, alternate universe: soulmates (the only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye), angst, romance. ★ warnings: major character death. depictions of death/violence, injuries/scars. established relationship; suggestive scenes but no real smut. set in a fictional apocalyptic world. doubling down on the angst warning; i cannot say with any certainty that this is a happy ending. ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. viv gave me an inch (a request for angsty seungcheol) and, in turn, i am giving her a mile (a whole thing instead of just a ficlet). mahal kita, @heartepub! this will be the last hozier brainrot i offer you— for now. + much thanks to @gyubakeries and @tusswrites for beta reading! love you both to the end of the world. ❤️🩹
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ like real people do by hozier. apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. i know the end by phoebe bridgers. fourth of july by sufjan stevens. interlude: i’m not angry anymore by paramore. atlantis by seafret. end of beginning by djo. nobody’s soldier by hozier.
When the fish started dying, you did not think: This is how the world will end.
Why would you? The decimation of marine mammals and seabirds didn’t make the news. The misguided scientific breakthrough that triggered everything was kept under wraps.
It isn’t until much later, until the damage is irreparable and the Rapture is imminent, that you will realize it.
The world as you know it is ending— but at least you have Seungcheol.
There’s some cruelty in the timing of it all. The two of you had just moved in with each other, coasting on the honeymoon phase of a long-term couple with a new thing to share. The paint on your apartment’s walls had yet to dry when the government declared a state of national emergency.
Dozens of other countries followed suit not long after, all blaming one thing or the other. Food crises. Social unrest. Cultural collapse.
“This is crazy,” Seungcheol grumbles.
The television is playing clips of a hurricane tearing through the Philippines. Extreme weather conditions, the reporters are saying. Due to the rise of CO₂ levels.
You and Seungcheol are sprawled out on the floor, watching it unfold. The furniture store meant to deliver your couch has delayed shipment until further notice.
Seungcheol has always been the sulky type, though the expression on his face nowadays has been less of his trademark pout and more of a serious frown. You can feel his growing agitation in the stiff way he holds you, in the set of his eyebrows.
“It’s crazy,” you agree quietly, resting your hand on his knee in a bid to calm him a bit. “But it’ll pass.”
Your touch seems to give some sort of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw.
“It’ll pass,” he echoes, reaching out to intertwine your fingers.
Neither of you knew just how wrong you could be.
April 8, 2017
Weird times. Cheol knows just how anxious I get when I’m cooped up, so he encouraged me to pick up journaling. I’m not sure how much this will help, but it’s worth a try.
It’s been a month since everything has essentially gone on ‘lockdown’. The news says that all of this started because researchers wanted to regulate harmful algae. Their genetically engineered virus ended up infecting all algae, and now the majority of phytoplankton are just... dead.
I don’t know what to write about. Terrible oxygen levels? Seafood costing a fortune? This ‘work from home’ system everyone is trying to figure out?
I guess I should just write about the good stuff. That way, when I look back on these entries, I can remember something good.
Today, Cheol tried to fix a leaking faucet himself instead of calling for a plumber. We flooded the kitchen floor, and ended up wet from head to toe.
I cooked pasta, called mom and dad on Skype, and watched the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet.
Once everything opens up again, Cheol and I have to visit my parents. (And ‘get better screwdrivers’, he claims.)
When Seungcheol first kissed you, you did not think: This man is my soulmate.
It had been a clumsy, shy thing, traded way back when the two of you were high schoolers still stealing away from your eagle-eyed parents. Seungcheol liked to wax poetics about how it was perfect even though you know that first kiss was more a clash of teeth than anything.
You don’t discover the truth of everything until a couple of years into dating. Seungcheol had gotten into playing basketball, and, one evening, you absentmindedly pressed your lips to a scar he had at the bend of his elbow.
The mark smoothed out instantly.
Seungcheol had giggled at the development before spending the rest of the night kissing every inch of your skin that he could reach— injured or not. You still think it’s one of your best memories as a couple.
Kisses that healed scars. You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you, until you realized how fortunate you were that your soulmate wasn’t halfway across the world or something. No, you had your soulmate, and he was more than willing to kiss away all your wounds.
You had counted yourself as lucky. You still think you are, even now, as Seungcheol strokes your hair and holds you to his chest in the pitch black darkness of your apartment.
His voice is quiet and small when he speaks up. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” you mutter back.
“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined,” he says. “For us moving in together and everything.”
An amused snort escapes you. Of course that would be your boyfriend’s concern. There’s the rotational power outages and the merciless prices of goods due to inflation, but Seungcheol is worried about your expectations not being met.
You shift in his hold. The days have been getting warmer and warmer, and the evenings are no exception. Seungcheol has taken to sleeping shirtless. You’re a couple of celsius away from doing the same.
“It’s not your fault that we decided to move in together for the end times,” you say into the skin of his bare chest.
He gives the small of your back a light thwack. “What have I said about the apocalypse jokes?” he chides lightly.
You roll your eyes. He shouldn’t see it in the darkness, but he knows you all too well. “And don’t roll your eyes at me!”
His reprimand draws a short laugh from you. Even that feels like a monumental effort, like it's a waste of good air.
Seungcheol doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the two of you waking up in pools of your own sweat, doesn’t care that there are whole government newscasts on how to preserve oxygen in enclosed spaces.
He holds you like a lifeline and kisses you until you’re breathless.
“Cheol,” you whine against his mouth, the protest already at the tip of your tongue. The end is near; sex should be the last thing on your mind.
But then Seungcheol’s fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, and he sounds so, so sweet when he mumbles, “Yes, soulmate?”
That’s always gotten to you.
“Unfair,” you groan as you work on shucking off your own clothes. “You’re so unfair.”
In between giggles, he kisses every part of you. Again, and again, and again.
June 15, 2017
Cheol and I are on the run.
He keeps telling me not to call it that because it supposedly makes us sound like criminals. I think it’s just funny, and God knows I need something to find humor in.
As badly as I want to say “we have gone through worse before,” that would be a lie. We’re out of our apartment and trying to make our way to some place where there’s better air quality. In the meantime, we’re living out of his car. It’s so funny to me that I’ve started laughing until I’m crying.
Anyway, the good stuff: Today’s sunset painted the sky purple. We snagged some still-cold cans of Sprite in an abandoned 7-Eleven. Cheol spotted a family of ducks crossing the road, pointed it out, and said “us, soon!”
Us, soon. It feels dangerous to hope, but that’s all I seem to do nowadays. That and being on the run. (Cheol made me strike out that last part, but whatever.)
When Seungcheol finally admits to you that he is scared, you did not think: This means that things are much, much worse than I thought.
Maybe because there were bigger concerns, like the car’s blinking fuel warning light and the scratches littering Seungcheol’s arms. Like the fool that he was, he had gone against your well-meaning advice to not look for help.
He did not return unscathed.
Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you rip open a Band-Aid. It’s one of the few that the two of you have left, and Seungcheol seems to remember the fact. He reaches out to stop you.
“Hey, c’mon,” he urges, obviously trying to aim for levity. “You know there’s other ways we can fix me up, right?”
The frown that tugs at your lips shows that you’re still less-than-pleased at his little stunt.
“Maybe if you didn’t head out in the first place,” you grumble. “We wouldn’t need any of this.”
Seungcheol looks like he might push back, but seems to decide against it at the last minute. Instead, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and gives you a gentle tug.
“It won’t happen again.” His tone is edged with remorse, enough to almost convince you. Almost.
“No more playing hero?” you ask.
A corner of his lip twitches upward. “No more playing hero,” he concedes before tugging at you again.
You let him. You move closer into his space until you’re practically in his lap, until you’ve got a better view of the angry red cuts on his skin.
Tentatively, you press chaste kisses to the injuries. Seungcheol’s hands find purchase at your waist and he tilts his head back, letting you work your magic. He’s quiet as your lips trace over each gash and wound, as you take away all the hurt with the ghost of a kiss.
After a moment, he mumbles, “Is it bad that I want you right now?”
“Seungcheol.”
“Okay, okay.” A beat. “I want you all the time, actually.”
“Shut up!”
The sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s enough to have you forgetting his murmured confession of fear, the vulnerability that he had tried so quickly to cover up with affection. For a moment, there is nothing else in the world except this, except you, except him.
September 23, 2017
Is it weird to say that I’m starting to forget what it was like before all of this happened? Cheol is trying to assure me that it’s to be expected, that we’ll all be back to ‘normal’ soon, but I don’t even remember what normal is like anymore.
I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. And so here is a small list of things I took for granted:
The first breeze that tells you winter is coming
The kindness of people who don’t know you
The smallest fish in the sea
Date nights with Cheol
Clean water
Breakfast
My parents
Cheol says there might be some biodomes ahead. Oxygen-regulated habitats. It sounds like something only the rich can afford. We don’t have a lot left between the two of us, and it’s getting harder to jump from building to building.
But there’s something waiting for us on the other side— right? There has to be.
May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows.
When the gunshot rang out, you did not think: This is it.
Seungcheol never gave you any reason to think that way. He had held your hand as you raided rundown grocery stores. He had positioned himself in front of you when there were stampedes. The world might have been ending, but he was with you.
He was with you even when the strangers you ran into started getting more aggressive. He was with you even when fights would break out over necessities like water and medicine.
“People are dangerous when they're desperate,” he’d tell you softly— still his rational, kind self even when faced with the worst of mankind.
He was with you. He was kind. He was yours.
Even when the bullet lodged itself right between his ribs.
There is not much that you remember after that.
The people dispersed. The cause of the fight— a can of chicken noodle soup, once your comfort food— lay forgotten on the floor.
The love of your life, staring unblinking at the sky.
When you sink to the ground, you’re moving purely on instinct. Your quivering lips press over his chest, over the red blossoming and staining his shirt.
You kiss him. Again.
And again.
And again.
December 1, 2017
The kisses don’t work on bullet wounds.
▸ Archivist’s note: The following entries are undated and some portions had been redacted/deemed untranscribable. We are led to believe that the author struggled to cope in the aftermath of their soulmate’s death. For posterity, we have still reprinted their final entries.
You’re so unfair.
I still want you.
Things I took for granted: ███████, you, ███████, youyouyou.
What now?
My love, it’s only a matter of ███████—
▸ Archivist’s note: Nothing follows.
This concludes our transcribed logs. The full collection can be viewed at the National Museum of Remembrance.
It is our deepest regret that the author is unnamed and that they cannot be properly credited. However, we know of two things with certainty.
We know of a man named Seungcheol, and we know that he was loved.
#(🥠) annotations#(📦) shoebox#viv i like to think you could sell me the world <3#thank you for the prompt thank you for the annotations pls consider this my public declaration of love for u CHAR#don't think i missed out on your little teases for what writing YOU want to do!!! I WILL BE SEATED#kumain at pumaslang ina.. walang iniwan na tira tira.. etc etc
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neighbors (matthew sturniolo)
pt 13
It was a couple of days later, and things had been oddly quiet. I had been texting Matt here and there, nothing too serious, just small conversations to test the waters. But since the night with Abbie, the boys hadn’t been over at all. It felt strange not having them around, but I told myself it was probably for the best—for now.
A week or two ago, we had all talked about taking a trip back home, and the time had finally come. Charlie decided she wasn’t going with us. She planned to stay in LA, since she had already visited home not too long ago, and lived quite far from me and the boys. That left me flying back with the boys.
I stood in my room, packing for the 6 a.m. flight. My suitcase lay open on the bed, half-filled with clothes, and I kept double-checking my list to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything important. It felt surreal to be going back. A mix of excitement and unease bubbled inside me.
As I folded my last pair of jeans, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I grabbed it, seeing a message from Nick:
Nick: "We’re all set for the morning. Don’t oversleep"
Me: "Not a chance. I’ll be waiting on you"
Once my suitcase was zipped up, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it for a moment. I sighed, pulling my phone off the nightstand again. I sent Matt a quick text.
Me: "Ready for the flight?"
It only took a few seconds before my phone vibrated with his reply.
Matt: "Yeah. Can’t wait to see you."
A small smile tugged at my lips as I stared at his response.
I climbed into bed, feeling the exhaustion of packing and overthinking catch up to me. Charlie climbed in with me asking for a sleepover before I leave for a week.
The next morning, Charlie's arms were loosely draped around me, and her steady breathing was oddly comforting. I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window, stretching lightly as I disentangled myself.
Charlie stirred, groaning. “Mmm, already time to go?”
“Yeah,” I said softly, sitting up and running a hand through my hair.
She rolled onto her back with a yawn, mumbling, “I fucking hate getting up this early.”
I laughed, tossing a pillow at her before heading to get ready. I threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a black sports bra, something comfy for the long flight. After brushing my teeth and double-checking my carry-on, I made my way downstairs.
The sound of laughter hit me before I reached the living room. When I turned the corner, I saw the boys all hugging Charlie in a big group.
“Don’t crush her,” I teased, leaning against the doorway with a smile.
Nick turned first, grinning when he saw me. “We wouldn’t dare. She’s tougher than she looks.”
Matt and Chris stepped aside, letting Charlie catch her breath. “Y/n’s turn,” Charlie said, reaching out for me.
I walked over, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Thanks you, I love you” I whispered.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes soft. “Always. I love you. Text me when you land, okay?”
“Of course,” I said, squeezing her one last time.
Chris grabbed my bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go, or we’re gonna miss this flight.”
As I followed him out the door, I turned back to wave at Charlie one more time. She stood in the doorway, smiling sleepily but warmly.
The car was waiting, and soon enough, we were on our way to the airport.
As we entered the airport, the bustling atmosphere instantly surrounded us—rolling suitcases, echoing announcements, and the hum of conversations blending into one constant noise. The boys moved like they’d done this a hundred times, which they probably had, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. I stayed close to Matt, my carry-on bag slung over my shoulder and my phone clutched in my hand.
At the check-in counter, Chris dropped the bags onto the scale with a theatrical sigh. "I swear, every time, my bag's underweight. You guys are just amateurs."
Nick rolled his eyes, holding up his boarding pass on his phone. “Maybe because you pack like you’re leaving for a weekend, not a week.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The playful bickering was comforting, a small slice of normal in the middle of the chaotic airport. After checking our bags, we moved toward security, where Matt gently guided me in front of him. His hand rested on my back as we shuffled forward, taking off shoes and emptying pockets.
“Still good?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “I’m just ready to get through all this and onto the plane.”
Once we were past security, we all regrouped near a Starbucks. Chris was already making his way to the counter before anyone else could say a word. “I’m ordering for everyone,” he called over his shoulder.
“Not a chance,” Nick said, jogging after him. “You don’t even know what Y/N drinks.”
Matt glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. “Coffee? Tea?”
“Chai latte,” I replied with a small smile.
He grinned. “Noted.”
After grabbing our drinks, we found a spot near the gate. I stretched my legs out in front of me, sinking into the uncomfortable airport chair.
Matt sat on my other side, his arm resting casually along the back of my seat. He leaned in slightly.
Boarding was called not long after, and we shuffled onto the plane, finding our seats in a row together. I ended up in the middle, sandwiched between Matt and Chris. Once we were settled, Nick was across the isle next to a huge guy.
As we lifted off, Matt reached over, squeezing my hand briefly. I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me. “Ready to be home?”
I smiled back, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. I really am.”
The flight had been surprisingly peaceful. After we reached cruising altitude, I pulled out my laptop, eager to pass the time. I’d downloaded a Harry Potter movie to watch—it felt like a comforting choice, something familiar and nostalgic for the long flight.
As the opening credits began, Chris leaned over from his seat, glancing at the screen. “Harry Potter? Good choice,” he said with a grin.
“Obviously,” I replied, smirking.
Matt, sitting on the other side of me, peeked at the screen too. “Which one is this?”
“Half blood prince,” I said, adjusting my headphones. “Best one, no argument.”
Chris scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “Bold claim. I’m more of a Goblet of Fire guy myself.”
“Of course you are,” I teased.
It didn’t take long for the two of them to shift in their seats. Chris laid his head on my right shoulder, while Matt leaned against my left. “Is this your plan? To use me as a pillow?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“Multitasking,” Chris mumbled, already closing his eyes as the movie played.
Matt chuckled softly. “You’re just comfortable. Don’t ruin it.”
I shook my head, amused but secretly enjoying the closeness. The three of us sat like that for most of the flight, quietly watching the movie. Occasionally, I’d catch Matt glancing at the screen, asking questions about the plot, and I’d explain in a hushed voice. Chris, on the other hand, just dozed on and off, occasionally shifting his weight but not moving from my shoulder. I quickly snapped a .5 of the boys looking like children on each shoulder.
By the time the movie ended, the flight attendants were announcing our descent. Both boys groggily sat up, stretching and yawning, while I shut my laptop and tucked it away.
“That movie was better than I remembered,” Matt said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“See? Told you,” I replied, smiling.
Chris rolled his shoulders, giving me a lazy grin. “I still stand by the goblet of fire.”
The three of us laughed softly as the plane began its final approach, the city below growing larger as we descended. It had been a quiet, comforting flight, but now the anticipation of being home was setting in. As much as I’d enjoyed our little mid-air movie night, I was excited to see my dad.
Nick groaned, rubbing his face as he stood to grab mine and his carry-on from the overhead compartment. “We’ve landed, but now we have to get out of this airport.”
Chris rolled his eyes, already slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “It’s not that bad, kid. You just like to complain.”
Matt stood next to me, letting me step into the aisle first. “You good?” he asked softly, his eyes searching mine.
“Yeah,” I said with a small smile. “Just ready to stretch my legs.”
We filed off the plane and into the terminal, the familiar signs and smells of home hitting me immediately. It was surreal to think about how long it had been since I’d walked through this airport.
Chris sighed dramatically as we waited by the baggage carousel. “Let’s place bets on whose bag comes out last. My money’s on Nick.”
“You’re the worst,” Nick muttered, glaring at him.
Matt chuckled, his arm brushing against mine as he stood close. “What about you?” he asked. “How does it feel to be back?”
I shrugged, watching the conveyor belt whir to life. “Weird, but in a good way. Like it doesn’t feel real yet.”
“It will soon,” he said, giving me a reassuring smile.
One by one, we grabbed our suitcases and made our way toward the exit. As we stepped outside, the humid air hit me like a wall, the unmistakable scent of the city wrapping around me. It felt like home, but also like I was stepping into a new chapter.
Chris nudged me with his elbow as we walked toward the car waiting for us. “Welcome back,” he said with a grin.
I smiled, taking a deep breath. “It feels so good to be here.”
The car pulled up in front of my childhood home, and I could already feel the swell of emotions building in my chest. The familiar sight of the house, the porch light glowing softly in the early evening, made my heart ache in the best way.
Chris hopped out first, helping me grab my bags from the trunk. “You good?” he asked, giving me a small, knowing smile.
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Thanks, Chris.”
Matt gave me a quick hug and kiss on my forehead before I turned toward the house. I waved at them as they got back into the car, and I could hear Chris yell, “Call me if you need anything!”
With my bags in hand, I took a deep breath and walked up to the door. Before I could even knock, it swung open, and there he was—my dad, standing in the doorway, his arms already open for me.
“Dad!” I yelled, dropping my bags and practically launching myself into his embrace.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with warmth as he hugged me tightly. “Welcome home.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his aftershave. “I missed you so much,” I whispered, my voice cracking just a little.
“Missed you too, honey,” he replied, pulling back to look at me. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, but I couldn’t help noticing how much older he looked. The lines on his face were deeper, his hair beard grayer.
I swallowed hard, suddenly overwhelmed by the passage of time. My dad had always been my rock, my steady constant, and seeing him like this made my chest tighten.
“You okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied my face.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m just really happy to be home.”
He grinned and patted my cheek. “Me too. Come on in—I made your favorite for dinner.”
I grabbed my bags and followed him inside, my heart feeling a little heavier despite the joy of being home. As I stepped into the house and took in the familiar warmth of the place I grew up in.
Dinner was a comforting mix of nostalgia and love. My dad had outdone himself, cooking my favorite meal—spaghetti and meatballs, a classic. As I sat across from him at the table, I felt a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time, the kind that only home could bring.
“So,” my dad started, taking a sip of his iced tea, “what’s been going on with you? Anything new?”
I hesitated, fiddling with my fork. “Actually… yeah. There is something.”
He raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue.
“Matt’s back in my life,” I blurted out, watching his reaction carefully.
For a moment, my dad didn’t say anything. He just set his glass down and leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “Matt,” he repeated slowly, the name heavy with history.
I nodded. “Yeah. He, uh… ended up being my neighbor at Charlie and my house.”
My dad studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “How do you feel about that?”
I let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. It’s… complicated. He’s apologized—more than once—for what happened back in college. And I believe him. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t still hurt sometimes. I was so broken when he left.”
My dad’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table to take my hand. “Honey, I remember how hard it was for you. You were in pieces. And as your dad, watching you go through that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I blinked them away, squeezing his hand.
My dad cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. “Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you. I wasn’t sure if I ever would, but after everything you’ve said about Matt… I think you deserve to know.” He hesitated, looking at me like he was searching for the right words. “For the past four years, Matt has been texting me. Not often, but every now and then. He’d ask how you were doing—if you were happy, how school was going. He even asked me for pictures once or twice, just to see you smiling. He made me promise not to tell you, said it was better that way. But now it makes sense why I haven’t heard from him in months.”
The words hit me like a tidal wave, and my chest tightened as tears spilled down my cheeks. All the pain, the confusion, the doubt I’d held onto for years suddenly felt small in the face of this revelation. Through my sobs, the realization pierced through: Matt had never truly let me go. He had loved me, even from a distance, even when it hurt. And somehow, despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel the same.
I wiped at my tears, but they kept coming, uncontrollable and relentless. “I need a minute,” I choked out, barely able to meet my dad’s concerned gaze. Without waiting for a response, I stood and rushed upstairs, closing the door to my room behind me.
The second I was alone, the weight of everything crashed over me. I collapsed onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow, and let out a muffled scream. My chest heaved as the sobs tore through me, my mind racing with the truth my dad had just revealed. The thought of Matt—checking in, caring, holding onto some piece of me for all these years—shattered something inside me. It was overwhelming, maddening, and deeply heartbreaking all at once.
Between the cries, I grabbed my phone, my hands trembling. My fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before I opened our text thread. The words spilled out in a flurry of desperation and raw emotion.
Y/N: We need to talk. Please.
I stared at the screen, my heart pounding as the message sent. The dots indicating he was typing appeared almost immediately.
Matt: What’s going on?
Matt: Are you okay?
Matt: Do you want me to come there?
I hesitated for a second, wiping my face as I sniffled, then typed back.
Y/N: Can you come get me? I need to get out, but it’s important.
The reply came almost instantly.
Matt: I’m on my way. Be there in 15.
I exhaled shakily, my heart a tangled mess of relief and anticipation. Closing my phone, I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face and trying to compose myself. The tears kept threatening to spill over.
As I sat on the edge of my bed, wiping futilely at my tear-streaked face, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down at the screen.
Matt: I’m here.
I took a shaky breath, my chest still tight from crying. My eyes were red and puffy, and I knew there was no use trying to hide it. Grabbing a hoodie off the back of my chair, I pulled it on, hoping it would offer some semblance of comfort.
Walking downstairs, I found my dad sitting in his usual chair, a knowing look on his face as he caught sight of me. He didn’t ask questions; he didn’t need to.
“I’m going out to talk to Matt,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, his expression soft. “Be careful, Honey,” he said. “And take your time.”
I swallowed hard, giving him a small, grateful nod before stepping out the door and into the rain. The drops were cool against my skin, soaking into my hoodie as I threw the hood over my head and hurried down the steps toward Matt’s car.
His headlights illuminated the driveway, casting long shadows, and I could see his silhouette through the windshield. I opened the door and climbed in, the warm air inside immediately contrasting with the chill of the rain.
Matt’s eyes met mine as I pulled the hood down, and his expression shifted, concern flooding his face. “You’ve been crying,” he said softly, his voice filled with worry.
“Just drive,” I mumbled, my voice breaking. “Anywhere. Just somewhere alone, away from everything.”
He hesitated, clearly wanting to press me for more, but instead, he nodded. Without another word, he shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the driveway, the rhythmic patter of rain on the windshield filling the silence between us.
Matt drove in silence, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. The only sound was the rain hitting the windshield and the low hum of the car's engine. I stared out the window, watching the world blur by, my thoughts as chaotic as the storm outside.
After a while, the car slowed, and I looked up to see a familiar spot—the secluded parking lot we used to escape to in college when the world felt too heavy. It looked almost the same, surrounded by trees and shrouded in quiet, except for the steady patter of rain.
Matt parked the car and cut the engine, turning to look at me. “We’re here,” he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper.
The weight of everything I’d been holding in crashed down on me again, and before I could stop it, the tears started falling. I buried my face in my hands, sobbing as the emotions overwhelmed me.
“Hey, hey,” Matt said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning toward me. “It’s okay. I’m here. Talk to me, please.”
I took a shaky breath, wiping at my face even though the tears kept coming. “My dad…he told me something tonight. Something I had no idea about.” My voice cracked, and I looked at him, his face full of concern and patience.
“What did he say?” Matt asked, his brow furrowed.
I hesitated, the words catching in my throat, but I forced them out. “He told me you’ve been texting him. For years. Asking for updates about me. Asking for pictures. He said you told him not to tell me.” My voice broke again, and I could barely get the next words out. “You never stopped caring, did you?”
Matt’s face fell, his expression full of guilt and vulnerability. “No, I didn’t,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I couldn’t. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “You’re it for me, Y/N. You’ve always been it. I didn’t want to ruin your life by barging back in, but I couldn’t stay away either.”
His words only made the tears fall harder. “You hurt me so badly back then,” I said, my voice trembling. “But hearing what my dad said tonight, it hit me. You’ve been carrying this too. And I realized…I’m ready, Matt. If you’re serious—if you’re really ready to take this seriously—I’m willing to try again. I want to try again.”
Matt’s eyes searched mine, and I could see the storm of emotions swirling in them—relief, love, regret, hope. “I’m ready,” he said firmly. “I swear to you, I’m ready to do this the right way. No games, no half-measures. Just us. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes.”
I nodded, the weight in my chest lifting just enough to let a small smile break through. “Then let’s do it,” I whispered.
Matt’s hand tightened around mine, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “I love you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions in his gaze. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I never stopped, not for a single second.”
The words hit me like a wave, and I felt a fresh surge of tears prick at my eyes. “I love you too, Matt,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Even after everything, I never stopped loving you. I tried to hate you, to forget you, but I couldn’t. You’ve always been it for me too.”
Matt’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the weight of years of pain, longing, and love finally breaking. Then, without a word, he leaned in, his hand gently cradling my face as his lips met mine.
The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, as though we were both afraid it might shatter the fragile hope between us. But as his other hand slid up to cup the back of my head, it deepened, and all the emotions we’d been holding back spilled into it—love, regret, passion, and promise.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together. Matt’s thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I’m never letting you go again,” he murmured.
I smiled, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Good,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I’m not going anywhere either.”
We sat there in the quiet of the car, the rain softly tapping against the windows, holding on to each other like we were finally home.
tag-
@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @slut4christopherr @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar-deactivated202 @realuvrrr @namelesssav @matts-girlfriend @emely9274
#matt sturniolo x reader#nicolas sturniolo#matt sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturiolo fanfic#matt stuniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#neighbor#roommates
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Don’t cancel me for this, y’all, but I’ve seen a lot of politically charged posts about RDR (as I should; games about outlaws and the corruption of big and small government are and always will be inherently political), but one thing has really bothered and stuck out to me the most, especially in male-dominated spaces in the fandom. The idea that the Arthur Morgan in this day and age would be a raging MAGA conservative—I’ve gotten so, so many posts about it on my TikTok today, and this is finally me snapping. Here are a few arguments I’ve heard for this. “When he hears that the Democrats want to take his guns, he’d say hell no to that.” “He’s from 1899; you really think he would vote for a Black woman?” And my personal favorite: “Arthur says in-game he doesn’t engage in politics.” I’m not going to go through each of these and explain, in detail with evidence from the games themselves, why I think these are the dumbest takes I’ve ever heard in my life. In a space I hope is more open to this discussion, I hope you’ll join me.
1.) The gun control issue. I know, I know, this one seems pretty obvious; I mean, he’s a red-blooded American man and cowboy. How could anyone possibly think for a second he’d be for the party of gun control?? While this is true, you know what’s also true? The fact that he lost a child to gun violence. Now, of course we don't know exactly how Isaac and Eliza were killed, but judging from the time and efficiency, we can assume they were shot. Now let’s get away from assumptions. Arthur mourned the loss of his son, felt the agonizing, intense pain of losing a child, and said that it changed him forever, hardened his heart. Do we really for a second think that Arthur would listen to the story of Sandy Hook, Parkland, Uvalde, and countless others and say, “No, guns are more important.”? Absolutely fucking not. Not only has Arthur felt that loss, that pain, but he is deeply empathetic; hearing the testimonials of children in these buildings, families that lost their babies, would be more than enough for him to understand and push for common sense gun laws. The erasure of Arthur Morgan's trauma of losing his son and the erasure of his empathy for children and families is rampant in political spaces of the fandom; to simply assume that because Arthur is an outlaw, in modern times he would be this “don’t tread on me.” “Cares more about guns than kids” kind of guy is asinine to me. Even if he hadn’t felt that loss and that pain, there are multiple times in the game where he is given a deeper understanding of things he has never experienced; he becomes angry at that pain inflicted, takes the mission with Charles and the Bison, and hears about the vaccines being diverted from the reservations, and the Black doctor (I think he’s a doctor) you meet in Rhodes. Once he heard these stories, these testimonials, or saw the pain, the hardship, he was quick to step in and do something to make a change. He would not value weapons over the lives of people, as we can see from the game.
2.) This one is always fun to see because it assumes that Arthur is inherently racist. Now, I’m going to state one of my least favorite but still valid arguments: he has minority friends. This is very true; look at Charles, Lenny, Javier, and Tilly. Here is why it’s one of my least favorite arguments: you can have minority friends and still be racist, sexist, homophobic… Having friends doesn’t make you antiracist, so what makes Arthur antiracist? One camp interaction stands out to me the most in regards to this, the one with Tilly when they first move south. Tilly comes to Arthur in specific to talk about how nervous she is being so far south; she understands that the south is a dangerous place for dark-skinned people, especially the location they’re in. Arthur, while he tries to soothe her, pointlessly at first, claiming that it's a good place to run from the law, also understands this, almost immediately changing his tone and telling Tilly not once but twice that e personally will keep her safe, that she has his word that he personally will keep her safe; a man that has hate in his heart for POC would not do that, ever. Another interaction is one with Lenny, where Lenny points out that Arthur wouldn’t notice the difference in the more southern states because the worst they’ll do to him publicly is say that he is friends with POC (less soft than that, watch the clips of it on YouTube if you want the full dialogue), whereas for Lenny the worst that can happen to him publicly is a lynching (which he states all the way back in chapter one where he almost was lynched). Arthur is not ignorant of racism; he knows that it exists—I hate the whole “Arthur doesn’t know about racism.” Because he does, and saying he doesn’t is an insult to his intelligence and awareness of the world around him. He knows racism exists; he personally just cannot fathom it; he cannot picture himself perpetuating racism (again, see the scene in Rhodes with the Black man), which is where I think that confusion that people say he doesn’t understand it comes from—he isn’t confused by racism; he’s confused why that man assumes he’s racist, because in his head he simply can’t fathom being bigoted.
This one has two parts, so bear with me. This also assumes that Arthur is sexist; the argument I see for this is the one-off comment he makes to the working girl at the saloon, "I didn't know I was talkin' to a lady." Was this an ok statement? No. Does it make him a raging sexist? Also no. Let's look at his relationship with Sadie; he does not underestimate her because she's a woman; he trusts in her and her abilities with unwavering confidence, so much so that he entrusts the safety of John, Abigail, and Jack to her. Now let's look at the camp interactions, one of which Arthur states that he sees no difference between men and women (bi king) and that most are bad, but some are worth loving. A man who is a raging sexist would never say something like this; he would never equate men and women, but Arthur does see them as equals. I see a lot of people point out that Arthur is far more protective of the camp girls than most, but this isn't because he sees them as less than him; he just understands that a lot of them lack the ability to fully protect themselves (Love you, Tilly and Mary-Beth). He isn't quite as protective of the women that he knows with confdence can and will protect themselves with confidence, but even then he will stick up for them if needed. Arthur Morgan is a protector of women, which is so incredibly important today and back then.
3.) Here’s my favorite. Arthur doesn’t engage in politics. Looking at this in terms of the game, he absolutely does engage in politics; he has opinions on rights and the government; that is, in fact, political—he doesn’t vote, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t make political statements or isn’t even unintentionally political. Now let’s look at this in the frame of today. Being non-political in 1899 and being non-political in 2025 are two wildly different things; politics has changed drastically in the last almost decade where thngs have circled back around to be voting for or against human rights, and from my evidence above, Arthur would be voting for those rights. In modern times it is almost impossible to be nonpolitical; I dare say it's impossible. Everything now has politics attached to it; that argument is their gotcha moment because they don't understand that, which is why they make the argument in the first place.
So, why does this matter? Arthur is a pixel outlaw in a fictional setting of 1899 America. I guess in the grand scheme of life it really doesn’t, but in fandom culture it absolutely does. Many people, including myself, come to fandom spaces to escape, to cope with things from their past or events of the day, to chat about characters, and to share theories and art, and so on. Imagine someone who lost a child, sibling, or friend to gun violence logging on for their daily dose of distraction only to see someone making points as to why a character who is comforting to so many people wouldn’t care about the death of their lost loved one, just guns. A POC or member of the LGBTQ community doing the same and seeing arguments as to why Arthur is homophobic or racist. Seeing something like that is in fact harmful; taking things and stretching them to fit your narrative despite the actual source material pointing in the opposite direction requires erasure and explaining your own personal biases publicly. Someone stating that Arthur is a racist is just them stating that they themselves are a racist or that they themselves care more about guns than lives—as we’ve seen, the public stating of controversial things or overall morally reprehensible ideals when gone unchecked spirals and spreads, and soon we have a space of people who will openly state bigoted things and push the people in the fandom here for reasons of a shared enjoyment for whatever reason or the people who use things to cope or as a distraction out of the space, effectively ruining it and potentially the outlook on the content of the game. Fandom spaces shouldn’t tolerate bigotry, and lots of Red Dead fans have been expressing bigotry lately, and these people have started to go completely unchecked. It bothers me; it always will, even if it is just a silly cowboy game.
#arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#rdr2 community#rdr2 arthur#rdr2 fandom#red dead fandom#red dead redemption arthur#red dead redemption community
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Hi Carina! It’s the anon who referred to your fanfics as poetry if you remember lol.
Number 1 I still stand by that and it’s even more enforced after reading your most recent poly!postwar!marauders I was hooked!! And number 2 I finally have a proper request for regulus and whiskers - perhaps some scenario where reader comes to regulus all scratched up and he p a n i c s but treats her (the scratches are from some random student’s pet cat that decided they suddenly wanted that specific patch of sun reader was napping on or something silly like that) and it’s just a mix of fluff and humor?
You totally do not have to do this specific prompt especially if you think of something similar but better, I 100% trust your vision. Also I’d like to be 🧸 anon for future posts if that’s ok with you. Once again thank you for blessing us with your stories and sorry for the long message haha❤️
of course i remember, that is my favourite compliment to date 😭 all i want is for my writing to be considered poetry, thank you so much. i'll add you to the list as 🧸 anon my love, feel free to share your age and pronouns too<333
Words: 1.5k
Warnings/tags: gn!reader, no use of y/n, light injuries, some blood, physical and emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, mentioned bsf!sirius, idiots in love, like literal soulmates, some cat telepathy bc i can lmao
A/N: more of whiskers and shadow can be found starting with this fic ! the cat pictured below is @nrthernsong's sweet Echo who is my whiskers faceclaim, exactly how I picture her<33
Regulus heard that something was wrong before he saw it.
The past hour had been spent on the sofa closest to the fireplace in the Slytherin common room, alternating between lazily reading his current paperback and dozing off. You had grown restless and given him a sweet forehead kiss before whisking out the door, assumedly to run out your leftover energy chasing mice and climbing walls. The mere thought made him smile, but he was far too comfortable to join you, and you were sleeping over in his dorm tonight anyway.
He figured it was no harm; he enjoyed knowing that you were doing your own thing and would be coming back to him. That you were such a fully realised person with your own desires, impulses, life and friends – even if one of those friends had to be his very own brother. That you were such a remarkable individual and kept choosing him every day, with every ounce of that self. It was as good a way as any to spend the evening.
That was, until he heard the desperate clawing of familiar paws against the stone common room door.
Apart from his usual doomsday gut feeling, he found it strange that you weren’t transforming back into yourself to open the door and walk in. Though, he told himself, you clearly could not transform in the still half-filled room, and perhaps you just wanted to remain in cat form without giving your animagus status away. Yet, your scratching seemed almost fervent, even over the sounds of chatter and laughter, which told another story.
Regardless of why, Regulus shot up out of his seat from the second he registered the noise as coming from you, hurrying across the floor. A wave of dizziness hit him from how fast he went from a reclining to borderline-sprinting position, but he pushed it down without a second thought.
When he opened the common room door and a white and grey figure sped in past him at an unbelievable speed, he realised what the problem was.
Because your usually beautiful, fluffy fur was ruffled all about and there were distinct streaks of redness across it. The blood was striking against the already blinding white, and Regulus could not fight the way his breath hitched.
“Amour,” he all but hissed, speed walking after you to where you had hid away in the first available corner.
Despite remaining mostly aware of your human self, once you were in your animagus form, certain animalistic tendencies took over. It was how you were able to communicate so efficiently through hisses and pets, but also why in states of panic, you would seek out physical shelter to hide beneath rather than coming to him for protection and comfort like you otherwise would.
Uncaring of how he looked running after a cat and murmuring to it as if it was a person, Regulus followed you, crouching down on his knees before you when you hid beneath an armchair against the wall. He couldn’t see you well in the darkness, but he did see a pair of yellow eyes shine out at him, so stunning that the fear in them should be illegal.
“Mon amour.” Regulus decided to forgo any reservations, and laid down on his stomach with his cheek against the floor so that he could be face to face with you. “Darling, what happened to you? Are you alright?”
The whimpering sound you made shot straight through his heart, drawing a rather pathetic coo from him.
You curled further up into yourself. Regulus inched his hand forward so that it was close to your face, but you made no move to butt your head against it like you usually would. Your eyes seemed to be pleading with him, but in this form, Regulus couldn’t read you as well.
In this form.
Regulus suddenly knew what he had to do.
Before that though, he retracted his hand in favour of letting his fingers curl around his wand. He brought it up to rest before you, slowing his movements down so as to not alert you in this frightened state. Even in a moment like this, you still trusted him entirely, and only blinked slowly at him while you shivered. He brought the tip of his wand up to rest just above your red spots.
“I’ll make it better, amour, I swear,” he mumbled, almost as if to himself. With a light graze and two whispered incantations, Regulus spelled away whatever shallow scratches you had across your beautiful fur and cleaned up the blood that had stained you so unjustly.
Though he could not be certain, he thought he heard a sigh escape you. This time, when he put his wand down, you leaned your patterned forehead down against his fingertips. Worry was still clouding most of his mind, but his lips did twitch at the sentiment.
“I’m not leaving you.” He declared before saying anything else, not wanting fear to take over you once more. “Just stay right there, lovely, and I’ll be right back for you.”
Regulus almost stumbled when he pushed himself up onto his feet and near-sprinted up towards his dorm, taking the stairs three steps at a time. If you were startled, he could neither see nor hear it, and fully intended to soothe you in a mere moment.
The second he was out of sight of any other students, Regulus twirled into his own animagus form, Shadow.
At this new level of elevation and with the animalistic instincts taking over him, Regulus felt the wave of concern spark in him anew. While he could sense when he spelled away your injuries that they were not serious, the thought of you scared ached throughout him. On speedy onyx legs, he leaped back down the stairs with just one thought swimming through his mind.
Amour, amour, amour.
You must have smelled Shadow on his way to you, because even before he saw you, he picked up on the keening noise you made at the approach of your mate.
Still sheltered carefully beneath the armchair, you were perched up on your front paws, staring eagerly towards where Shadow was pouncing towards you. This time, you let him slip beneath the seat and into your hiding place without any hesitation. On the contrary, you made space for him, and as soon as he was within reach, you curled up against him, hiding away.
With your face burrowed into Shadow’s furry neck, he could finally feel you sigh out in relief, any tension and fear seeping out of you. It was exactly what he had been hoping for, exactly what he wanted, no needed to accomplish.
Your love was true in any form, but the connection the two of you shared in animagus form was different from anything Regulus could even think to communicate through words. He had yet to find any relevant literature on animagi explaining the bonding experience you had in animagus form, but perhaps this was one of the things in his life that Regulus didn’t need to intellectualise.
Instead, Shadow curled back up against you, keeping his head over yours in a protective manner as he held you close with his paws. Absentmindedly, he began grooming your fur, placing every strand back down in the correct direction, ridding you of any evidence of whatever tussle you had suffered when roaming the castle. Certain places of your fur seemed to demand more of his attention, and though Regulus could not prove it as he healed and cleaned you up magically earlier, he had a creeping suspicion that was where you had been scratched up. So he didn’t resist it, instead doting on you exactly how he wanted.
Beneath his touch, you were becoming soft and pliant once more, purring loudly and occasionally looking up at him with the yellow eyes he had come to love so. His Whiskers. His amour.
Using the very bond he had no words to explain, Shadow asked you through some odd form of cat communication and animagi telepathy: What happened?
Your grunt and huff communicated what he had feared. Mrs. Norris.
Shadow made a hissing sound directed at your shared menacing nemesis before doubling down on his efforts to soothe you, nudging you over onto your back so that he could groom and kiss along your neck and chest – your most vulnerable areas in cat form, showing you just how safe you were now.
This was part of what occasionally living as a cat entailed, but Regulus would be damned if he did not care for you as if it was a tragedy each and every time. Spelling out I love you with every lick and pet and nudge and purr.
Based on the lovely sounds you were making and how you seemed to melt into him until you were one and the same, you loudly claimed I love you too.
Regulus could rest easy with you safe and sound in his hold, content just to have you near him, any anger subdued for as long as he was comforting you. In the meantime, he was dreaming up how a certain big black dog might have a little chat with Mrs. Norris.
#🧸#whiskers#whiskers and shadow#whiskers x shadow#animagus!reader#cat!animagus!reader#cat!animagus!reader x regulus#animagus!reader x regulus#animagus!reader x animagus!regulus#animagus!regulus#cat!animagus!regulus#cat animagus!regulus#cat animagus!reader#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#regulus#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black x y/n#regulus x reader#regulus x you#regulus x y/n#regulus black fanfiction#regulus black fanfic#regulus black fic#regulus black fluff#regulus black hurt/comfort#regulus black drabble#regulus black imagine#regulus black reader insert
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2024 Recap & 2025 GOALS
I'M BAAAAACCKKKKKK
Well, well, well.... Look who it IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hello my friends.
It is I!!!
To say it's been a while since we've really talked would be an understatement. This bitch rly went fckn off the radar that second half of 2024. But I'm happy to say I am making my debut once again and I am back on the scene!!!
I hope the start of 2025 has been going well for you all <3 I'm happy and excited to say that after a grueling 2024 and relaxing holidays, I'm finally back and ready to get to WORK on Alaris! I thought a nice way to get back into things would be a big 'ol yappy post in true Crescence fashion so that you all know exactly where I, and Alaris, are at as we enter the new year :')
I'm excited to say that while I don't have a set date yet...
Alaris WILL be releasing this year even if it kills me.
Just as my big year goal in 2024 was to graduate and I used every ounce of inner strength to make that happen, finishing and releasing Alaris is my big goal this year. I've kept you all waiting long enough, and I'm confident that Alaris is at a point that we'll be able to do a release this year. Of course, if this changes, you all will be the first to know. But I'm very hopeful that we can make a 2025 release happen ^^
That being said, I think it might be nice to do a 2024 recap so we can see just how far the project has come, even if I was shoved off the face of the earth in the later months of 2024 \o/
Last year, we actually finished ALL the writing for every route except for Aisa's! Meaning we reached 300k words of writing for the game and only have 50k words left YEEAAAAAA. And all routes are written up except for one! This was a huge milestone for me since I still remember when I finished the first 50k for the game with Kayn's route all the way back in the beginning. And we're finally nearing the end.
I've always considered writing the hardest part of game development so to have finally reached a point where almost all of the writing is finished was a huge achievement for me last year.
We also made HUGE progress on the art front last year ^^ Not only did we finish all of the backgrounds for the full game, we also got a new GUI, updated sprites and CGs, and a new promo piece in anticipation for the release of the new demo.
We also made progress on CGs for the full game, which I will not be showing because spoilers and those are special nuggets Patreon and Kickstarter backers get access to hehe. But we made about 16 finished CGs last year, getting us to a total of 22 CGs and about halfway through our CG count!!
Last but definitely not least, we actually had a good amount of releases last year (considering I got fckn bodied in the second half of the year) ^^
a moment for Van
In 2024, believe it or not, I actually released the extended version of Intertwine! It featured new music, slightly more polished programming, and almost double the writing :') And with this release, we saw Intertwine get a lot more love throughout the year and actually reached 200k plays and 1k ratings (crazy numbers I never thought I'd see in all my days). So thank you all for continuing to love my fated child <3
a moment for my whore child
We also released the enhanced demo for Alaris last year, featuring a polished script (with some revised dates), partial voice acting, custom OST, new GUI, new BGs, updated sprites and CGs, and much more! This was an exciting milestone for me since it felt like we finally were approaching a release that reflected what the full game would feel like, and I couldn't have been happier with the release :') It meant so much to me that old and new players enjoyed it as much as they did and really gave me the motivation endorphins to keep chipping away towards full release
HE.
And then, perhaps the most exciting of all, Alaris entered its BETA ROUTE ERAAAAAA!!!! We kicked it off with Kayn in honor of hot girl summer, but made our way through half of the LIs with Kayn, Fenir, and Druk each getting their own moment to shine \o/ The reception to these routes was super motivating since players finally got to experience content I'd been working on and keeping to myself for almost a year, and I've been so happy seeing people fall in love with the LIs in in different ways :')
Usually I do a little recap with fanart I make of games I played throughout the year as well, but this year I wanted to do something different and dedicate this little section to YOU ALL!!
In 2024, the Alaris community was blessed with fanart, memes, character questions, and more :') For some reason, 2024 was the year a lot of you decided to really show your love for the game, and it's one of the biggest things that's maintained my sanity, and the reason I love working on the game. While I can't show all the fanart everyone made, I wanted to take a second to show some love
credits to: @/egginthepit, @/nanapop, @/stimulatory, and @/dreamtydraw for cracked fanart
I know I dropped the ball near the end of 2024, but I hope you all know how much seeing fanart and people engaging with Alaris means to me. Every time I see a new piece or a new character ask in the inbox, it genuinely makes my day. I hope this year I can be better at recognizing and fostering the love in the community for all of our LIs, and I can't wait for another year with you all!
credits to: lily of @/lavendeerstudios, bestie maguna, @/starlitplum, and @/fignia-kakay-to
Here's to a new year that is hopefully filled with more excitement for Alaris, progress, and an eventual release (eek!!!!). Thank you all for sticking with me for another year!
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CAN YOU TELL US WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN THE MISUNDERSTANDINGS SERIES. PLEASE
Oh, Paraph, I wish I knew
Okay, just kidding.
Let's say the calm they were feeling while talking about this is completely shattered now. I think RV!Charles will be the first one to figure out what's happening, because "of course, why would you be in Wrath?" but they both feel too shocked to talk about this now, so they'll go to their respective partners.
It's a sad thing, since they thought they knew someone who had gone through the same thing. But also, hey, maybe their Hell was not as bad? maybe this can be good?
Edwin will decide that they need all the information, so he'll get his notebook and show RV!Charles the map of Hell. I imagine maybe Edwin saw the train a few times, but he had no idea what was happening there.
And they will talk. Perhaps Charles and RV!Edwin will be there, to offer support, not talking but just... you know, there. And they can all learn that no part of Hell is kinder than the other, they're just different.
So maybe, they did find someone who understands, despite everything.
#ask ask ask#reverse verse#and then they can recontextualize the dolls/train incidents and feel bad about that
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