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piastriprincess · 1 month ago

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somethin' stupid ⸻ isack hadjar x reader .

featuring isack hadjar , friends to lovers , university au , isack being a down bad simp , very rusty french and google translated italian <3 word count 9.5k author’s note literally no one asked for this but i’ve been obsessed with isack lately and this is the result ! loosely based off a poem i read a million years ago on this website called '8 ways to say i love you' . unfortunately you truly never escape what you thought was romantic at age 13 ! dedicating this one to @spiderbeam — eve , thank you for getting me into this man in the first place . i fear you have my heart and all my isack fics <3 as always let me know what you think , it helps me so much to get feedback from you all about what you like and don’t like ! title is from somethin’ stupid by frank sinatra .

one: spit it into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot of whiskey you downed for courage. feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.

Isack is forgetting something. He has to be. Because even through a hangover that feels like a jackhammer pounding directly into his skull, there is still an awful tugging in the back of his mind, like his brain is trying to remind him about something vitally important.

He rolls over, squinting at the harsh morning light filtering through the blinds, to discover he never made it to bed. No, his face is pressed against the scratchy cushions of the living room couch, mouth dry and tasting vaguely like rum and regret.

Rum. He blinks hard, a memory swimming up through the haze in his head — Pepe returning from his first class of syllabus week last night with a brown paper bag in hand and a devilish smile on his face. He’d claimed one of his fellow comms majors had told him if you mixed Rum Chata with Fireball, it tasted exactly like Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Isack didn’t even like sweet drinks, but that was your favorite cereal, so of course he had to try it, if only so he could tell you about it the next day.

He groans and pushes himself upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement as the room spins around him. There’s a concerning stain on the worn carpet that wasn’t there the night before, and Ollie’s shoes are swinging lazily by their laces from the ceiling fan. The thought of you is stirring something in his brain, too. You hadn’t been there the night before — despite the fact that it was the first week of class, your thermodynamics professor had assigned you a particularly vicious problem set due at midnight — but you’d wormed your way into his drunken mind anyway. It happens more often than not, he supposes. Gabi’s put together a slideshow montage of all his intoxicated rambles declaring you the most perfect girl in the world that he’s started threatening to play for you if Isack doesn’t make a move before graduation.

He’s still thinking about you when his phone buzzes from somewhere below him. He has to dig through the couch cushions, shoving aside loose change and a half-eaten sleeve of Triscuits before his fingers close around it. The screen has a thin, jagged crack across it that wasn’t there the night before, but he can still make out the notification from you on his lockscreen:

daily grind at 10:15? senior year deserves an extra special treat, i’m buying :~)

That must be what he had forgotten. Your coffee tradition. Rain or shine, hungover or sober, you always met at the Daily Grind for complicated sugary drinks before your first class of the semester. It was one of the few things in your friendship that was undeniably sacred.

He glances up at the time. 10:13. Merde. He’s already dialing your number, rehearsing an apology in his head and a promise to be there as soon as he can, but the phone stops ringing and he gets your voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me. Obviously I don’t have my phone right now, but leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you! Or you can just text me like a normal person.”

Oh. Oh no. No no no no no.

Hearing your voicemail message — now that is familiar in the worst way. A sick wave rolls through his stomach, part hangover and part nauseous realization that drunk Isack might have done something really, really stupid. He winces, pulling up his call history, already half-knowing what he’ll find.

Sure enough, there’s one outgoing call to you at 1:54 AM, and the memory clicks into place like the final piece of last night’s twisted puzzle.

“Hiii,” he’d slurred into the phone, head lolling against the sofa. “C’est Isack. I — you know that, obviously. Your phone probably told you that! I’m — I’m drunk. And I wish you were here tonight. Wish you were here every night, en fait, but especially tonight. Pepe made Cinnamon Toast Crunch but, like, drinks. I know it’s your favorite and — you would have loved everything about it! As much as I love everything about you. I love your laugh, I love your face, I looooove you. Putain. I am going to regret this tomorrow.” With that he’d hung up the phone, immensely pleased with himself, and fallen asleep.

Well, drunk Isack had been right about one thing, at least. Sober Isack is definitely regretting it. He’s been trying to figure out how to tell you that he likes you basically since he met you, and now he’s gone and done it in the most ridiculous way possible.

His stomach twists, and it’s definitely not the hangover this time. It’s too late to cancel. You’re probably already there, sitting at your usual table by the window and ordering him something disgustingly sweet. He has no other option but to show up.

His mind fills with increasing dread as he gets ready. He considers faking his own death, but that seems like it might raise more questions than it answers. Plus, his friends would probably find a way to resurrect him just to kill him again for being such a total coward.

“You look like shit, Hadjar,” you say cheerfully as he stumbles into the seat across from you fifteen minutes after you’d agreed to meet. His hair is still damp from the world’s fastest shower, dark sunglasses hiding bloodshot eyes.

He smiles shakily back at you as you slide a coffee that looks like diabetes waiting to happen across the table to him. You’re acting surprisingly normal for someone whose best friend crooned a love confession into their voicemail in the middle of the night. Maybe you hadn’t even listened to it. Maybe you thought it was a butt-dial and deleted the entire thing. “Blame Pepe. He got me hammered last night.”

“I’ll excuse the lateness just this once,” you reply, face breaking into the smile that’s been ruining his life since freshman year. “Was it worth it?”

“Jury’s still out,” he says, taking a cautious sip of his drink. As he predicted, it’s absolutely revolting, a sugar rush in a cup. “Mon dieu, this is disgusting,” he groans. “What the hell is it?”

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch latte,” you say, biting your lip, and Isack spits coffee all over the table between you.

He’s still spluttering when you start talking again, eyes fixed on the table between you. “Look, I know you were drunk when you left that message,” you say, twisting a strand of hair around your finger, “and I know drunk people say stupid things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, heart sinking into his stomach. He had meant it, he thinks, but he’ll let you draw the incorrect conclusion if it makes you happier. If it means he gets to keep being your friend, to keep you in his life in whatever way you’ll allow.

“So I’m not going to hold the whole ‘I love you’ thing against you. But if you really love my face, you should probably ask it out on a date, or something.”

His head snaps up, almost too afraid to believe he heard you right. “Vraiment?”

“Vraiment,” you confirm, flicking a gaze up at him. Your eyes are bright, hopeful. “Do you want to take my face out, or what?”

You take a sip of your coffee like you’re trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but you’re drumming your fingers against the cup the way you always do when you’re in your own head. You’re nervous, Isack realizes. You want this as much as he does.

“I really want to take your face out,” he says, voice hoarse, and you just smile.

You both finish your coffee, and afterwards he walks you to the engineering building for your class. Since it seems to be a good day for getting what he wants, he holds your hand as you go. He’s only hoping to brush against your palm, to feel the electric buzz of your skin against his, but instead you weave your fingers into his, squeeze his hand tight.

When he looks down at your hand, intertwined with his, he’s already thinking about how he can say it to you again without fucking it all up.

two: sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

“Okay, seriously, if you laugh at me, I’m gonna break up with you,” you say, voice muffled behind the bathroom door, and the butterflies erupt in Isack’s chest all over again.

The first date had gone well. Better than well. It had gone kind of flawlessly, actually. So Isack took you on a second. Then a third. It’s wonderful — he keeps expecting you to say no, to say you’ve made a huge mistake and you’re better off as friends, but it’s been nearly two months now and you just keep matching his level of enthusiasm.

Your first Halloween together is no different. Halloweekend has always been a blur of mixers and parties spent side-by-side with you, so Isack wasn’t expecting anything new now that you were officially together. But you’d asked him one night a few weeks ago during a study session, ankle twisting around his under the kitchen table, what couples costume the two of you would be wearing this year. Isack had been so thrilled by the idea that you would publicly identify yourself as his girl that every single cheesy couples costume he’d ever seen over the years had flown out of his mind completely. He’d locked eyes with the vintage Mercedes poster he’d hung on their living room wall, and to his absolute horror, blurted “Brocedes,” which even to his lovesick mind sounded like the stupidest thing he’d ever said.

To his unending delight, however, you’d agreed without a second thought. Which is how he finds himself dressed as Lewis Hamilton in a Mercedes race suit and a Pirelli cap, waiting for his Nico to work up the courage to make her way out of the bathroom.

“I’m not going to laugh,” he assures you, teal sneakers squeaking against the floor as he wipes his palms on the suit. “Come on, mon coeur. Let me see.”

The door creaks open hesitantly, and there you are, the fluorescent bathroom light framing you from behind. Your hair is slicked back, tousled just so. The white suit hugs your body, and you have it unzipped just low enough to show off the soft line of your collarbones and the swell of your chest.

Isack’s eyes drag down your body, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You’re unreal.

“Fuck,” he breathes. It’s pretty much the only word he remembers at this point.

You lean against the door frame, glossed lips curling into a soft smile. “Well? What do you think?”

“I think we’re going to be late to this party,” Isack says, voice rough around the edges.

He crosses the room in two strides, pulling you into him by your hips. You loop your arms around his neck, threading your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and when you tilt your head up to kiss him, it feels like his world is exploding into a million pieces.

He still hasn’t figured out a better way to tell you how he feels about you. It’s strange, in a way; before you started dating, the situation felt wildly romantic in his head, like something straight out of those chick flicks you watch religiously and he pretends not to like. Two friends, madly in love with each other without having the nerve to admit it. Your relationship, though it was practically perfect in every other way, had complicated things. Isack wants to be the guy who sweeps you off your feet, not the creep who tells you he loves you after a month and a half.

But now, with his teeth scraping impatiently against your collarbone and you breathing his name into his ear like it’s a prayer, he can’t imagine not saying something. It escalates quickly, as it always does with the two of you: he’s hauled you up onto the edge of the sink, and your legs wrap around his waist as he drags his mouth back up your neck to meet your lips. You taste like your strawberry lip gloss, and when you slot your tongue into his mouth it makes his head spin.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth. It’s caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan, just a sound you could mistake for pleasure if you weren’t listening closely. You don’t react, just kiss him again so deeply he feels he might drown in it. A small noise escapes the back of your throat, one he wants to make you replicate over and over again, and he’s sure then that you didn’t hear him.

It’s probably for the best. He wants to be sure that when he does work up the courage, you’ll know, and there will be nothing to keep you from believing him. Not alcohol, not desperation, not the heat of a perfect, stolen moment. So he presses the words into the column of your neck, murmurs them into the cut of your collarbone. He traces hard little hearts into your hips with his thumbs. Your suit begins to slip off your shoulders, exposing the teal strap of your bra, and Isack thinks he might have legitimately died and gone to heaven.

That is, until the door swings open behind him with a dramatic bang.

“Che schifo,” Kimi yelps, scandalized, covering his eyes with his hands. “Isack, your room is right there.”

You pull back from Isack, a laugh bubbling in your throat as you hike your costume back up your shoulder. Your gloss is smudged, cheeks flushed pink, and Isack thinks he’s never seen you look so beautiful, even if he does want to melt into the floor tiles right about now.

“Sorry, Kimi,” you chirp, not even having the decency to look flustered. “Isack got so turned on by the thought of Brocedes that he just had to have me.”

“I did not,” Isack protests, cheeks scarlet. “Kimi, we were just —”

“This is a communal bathroom, Isack,” his roommate interrupts, frowning. “Don’t get me wrong, I am happy you two finally figured it out, but… we wash our hands in that sink.”

“You’re a menace,” Isack hisses under his breath to you, and you giggle, smoothing your hair.

“We’re late anyway,” you grin, hopping off the sink. “Don’t worry, Kimi, won’t happen again.”

He lets you pull him out of the bathroom, watching as Kimi closes the door behind you. “We can pick that back up later somewhere with a little more privacy,” you whisper into his ear, and he stumbles over his own feet. It’s embarrassing the way he can tell his eyes are lighting up at your words. He sends a small thank you to the universe that the fabric of the costume is thick.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he watches you walk to the door, hips swaying. “I’m definitely holding you to that.”

three: whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. maybe you were just sleep whispering.

The bed feels far too narrow to fit the both of you, the old-fashioned radiator in your room is clanking so loudly he’s worried it might explode, Isack’s arm is going numb where it’s trapped under your head, and there is absolutely no place he’d rather be.

He’d picked you up at the airport earlier that day — your flight was meant to land in the afternoon, but he’d shown up nearly forty minutes early, pacing excitedly around baggage claim until you descended down the escalator. You were wearing the hoodie you’d stolen from him before winter break and your biggest smile, and you’d jumped into his arms with such force that he’d dropped the homemade welcome sign he’d made, poster board fluttering to the floor.

Since then, he’s been pretending personal space is a concept he’s never heard of. Hand on your thigh in the car, an arm around your waist as he carries your suitcase into your apartment, fingers tracing through your hair as you lay in bed curled into his chest. He can’t keep his hands off you. It’s as if the two of you were separated for three years, not three weeks.

“You’re unusually quiet,” you observe, one leg thrown lazily over his waist as you scroll through TikTok.

“Just thinking,” he shrugs, flicking his eyes over your screen. You’re watching one of those kitchen restock videos you like, the light of your screen illuminating your face in the dark room.

“Dangerous activity for you,” you tease, eyes bright. He grabs your waist and pulls you in, blowing a raspberry into your neck and laughing as you squeal and squirm away from him. “What’s on your mind, Hadjar?”

What’s really on his mind is how warm and comfortable he feels with you, how the sharp, persistent ache in his chest that he’d been feeling since winter break started has finally subsided now that he’s back in your presence. “How I survived three weeks without you hogging all the blankets,” he says instead.

You gasp and narrow your eyes, but there’s no heat to it. “I do not hog the blankets,” you protest, pulling more of the comforter towards you.

“Sure,” he counters, pulling it back. “And I don’t have the shin bruises to prove that you’re also a sleep-kicker.”

“Those could be from anything,” you say primly. He gives you a look of pure disbelief, and you both dissolve into giggles, foreheads pressing against each other.

Before leaving for winter break, he’d thought that everything would feel the same way it did when you were just friends. Despite the different time zones, the two of you had managed to talk every day — texts about everything from the prize he won in a Christmas cracker to the dog at your New Year’s party wearing a sparkly hat to his mom’s endless questions about when his copine would visit Paris. It was nice. He was happy, but it wasn’t enough. Not like it used to be.

When you were friends, even in the years that he’d harbored his frankly all-encompassing crush on you, missing you had been manageable, a dull ache he could soothe with a voice memo or a quick call. But this had been different. Deeper. More essential to his being, somehow.

Every time he slid into his childhood bed, he’d glance over at the empty pillow and be struck with the visceral feeling that you should be there. He’d caught himself saving up stories to tell you, photographing random things because he knew they'd make you laugh, declining invitations from his lycée friends because he'd rather spend the evening talking to you than going out. You’d fallen asleep twice during your marathon daily FaceTimes, and both times Isack had stayed on the line just to listen to you breathe, feeling foolish and smitten and wondering when exactly you’d managed to make yourself feel like home to him.

Suddenly worried that he won’t be able to keep himself from saying exactly that, Isack breaks the laughter with a clearly fake, very loud snore.

“Baby,” you giggle, poking him in the side as the radiator clangs particularly violently. “Stop. I’m trying to sleep.”

There’s some level of truth to that; it’s nearly 2 AM, and the two of you have been curled up in your bed since the early evening. But clearly, neither of you have been trying very hard to actually rest, too excited to be with each other again to let your eyes close.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” he huffs, pressing a kiss into your temple. “You’ve been talking for, like, hours.”

“Fine,” you reply haughtily, wrinkling your nose up at him. “Look at me, totally asleep.” With that, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, eyelashes fluttering against his skin, and go silent.

He listens to the slow rhythm of your breathing, feels the way your chest rises and falls against him. He wants to follow you into sleep, but it’s evading him. There’s something playing on his mind — the thought that with every day he spends with you, he’s falling deeper into something he only thought he understood before. He’d been so sure he loved you back then, but this is something else entirely.

Maybe it’s the darkness, or the feeling of you in his arms again, but he’s feeling bold. “Je t’aime,” he whispers into your hair. And then you sigh, snuggling closer into his hoodie with a soft, instinctive movement.

Isack freezes, heart hammering against his ribs, and slams his eyes shut like he can pretend he’s sleep-whispering. Counts the seconds between your exhales until he’s convinced your movement was a coincidence, and he can bide his time some more.

When he says it for real, you’ll be so blown away by how suave and gorgeous and charming he is that you won’t hesitate to say it back.

four: buy her flowers. buy her chocolate. buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known.

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Isack has a plan. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. He made a reservation in advance at Maison de Lumière, the only restaurant near campus that required anything more than jeans and a sweatshirt. It had taken three calls and a small bribe to one of the hostesses, but he’d finally managed to secure a table. He didn’t have a suit, so he’d had to borrow Gabi’s. It’s miles too big and hangs loosely off his frame, making him look a little bit like a kid playing dress-up in his dad’s closet. He bought flowers — not from the grocery store, but real long-stem red roses wrapped in pink tissue paper that cost more than his weekly laundry budget. He’d even picked up a heart-shaped box of chocolates from the campus bookstore, at the last minute throwing a little stuffed bear into his cart that he almost immediately regretted.

None of it is his vibe, really. He’s not used to grand romantic gestures. But you deserve everything he’s planned and more, even if it does make him feel a little ridiculous and out of place. And maybe, if everything goes absolutely perfectly, tonight can be the night that Isack finally tells you he loves you.

That is, until you get to the restaurant, and he realizes this is going to be a total disaster.

You look so beautiful that Isack trips over his feet multiple times trying to open the door for you. Then you’re seated at a table by the window, which should feel romantic but really feels like the two of you are on display. There are several sets of silverware on the table for some reason, and the glasses are heavy crystal that Isack is afraid to touch. The bear sits on the windowsill like a fuzzy chaperone, its glassy eyes staring at you.

The waiter drops off menus in thick leather folders, giving you a ten-minute explanation of the special holiday prix fixe menu. Isack orders the cheapest wine on the list, and the waiter scoffs but obliges. When he finally leaves the two of you alone, silence weighs on the table like an uncomfortably heavy blanket.

“So,” you say, drumming your fingers against the stem of your water glass.

“So,” he agrees, trailing off.

Then the two of you speak at the same time:

“This place is —”

“You look really —”

You laugh, but it’s not your laugh, the familiar sound that makes Isack’s heart flip. It’s stilted, forced. “Sorry, I was just going to say this place is… nice.”

“Thanks,” he says politely, straightening his tie for the fifteenth time, but he can’t keep the frown off his face. Nice. It’s careful. It’s a word designed to be meaningless, to hide how uncomfortable you are, and Isack can feel his perfectly planned night slipping through his fingers.

It’s torture. Actual, literal torture. In three years of friendship and seven months of dating, you’ve never run out of things to say to each other. You talk constantly about classes and professors and the weird guy in your freshman dorm who collected vintage lunch boxes and whether aliens existed and what you’d do if you won the lottery. You flirt ridiculously and tease each other relentlessly. You send each other stupid memes at 2 AM and argue about linear algebra with the kind of intensity that comes from finding your mental match in another person.

But tonight, surrounded by white linen and overpriced menu items and the soft classical music whispering from hidden speakers, Isack has nothing. He takes a sip of the wine, immediately wincing at the taste.

“Isack,” you say gently, touching his wrist across the table as he forces a swallow. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… this sucks, right?”

He blinks. “What?”

“This,” you say, waving your hand through the air at the restaurant, the pristine tablecloth, the overly perfumed candle flickering between you. “All of this. We both hate this. This isn’t us.”

For the first time all night, Isack feels like he can actually breathe. “Yes. Mon dieu, yes. This is horrible. The wine is horrible. I thought I was the only one.”

“No,” you laugh, and it finally sounds real. “You’re definitely not the only one. The waiter keeps looking at me like I’m going to smuggle the silverware out in my purse.”

He snorts, pulling at his tie until it loosens around his neck. “I’m so sorry, mon coeur. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I just wanted to give you the Valentine’s Day you deserve, something fancy and romantic and —”

“Awkward and uncomfortable and completely wrong for us?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “That.”

“I love that you wanted to do something special,” you say, and Isack’s brain short-circuits somewhere around hearing the second word of your sentence. “But I don’t deserve all this. I deserve you. The real you, not whatever tie-wearing, wine-drinking version of you that you think is going to impress me.”

You love that he wanted to do something special. Love. It’s the perfect opening. Three simple words that had been circling in his head for months, waiting for the right moment to be dropped.

He opens his mouth to speak, finally working up the courage to say exactly what the entire night is for, but you beat him to the punch. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

A half hour later, the two of you are pressed shoulder to shoulder on the hood of Isack’s beat-up Honda with a twenty piece nugget box and two Slurpees between you. Your dress is hiked up around your thighs, bare leg pressed against his, the stuffed bear sitting in your lap.

You lean your head against his shoulder, taking a long sip of your Slurpee. “Next year, maybe let’s skip the fancy restaurant.”

“No complaints on that,” he allows, taking a bite of a nugget. “That bottle of wine basically wiped out our date budget for the rest of the semester, by the way.”

You laugh as the cool February wind picks up, and without thinking Isack takes off Gabi’s jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. You smile up at him, makeup smudged slightly at the corners of your eyes. “Now that’s romance. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”

Isack sighs happily, wrapping his arm around you. He’d spent so long planning what he thought was the perfect night. The flowers, the chocolates, the overpriced dinner, the teddy bear, all because that’s what movies and romance novels and r/Relationship_Advice said you were supposed to do when you loved someone.

But now, with chicken nugget crumbs on his fingers and the taste of blue raspberry in his mouth and your laugh still echoing in the crisp air of the parking lot, he thinks maybe it’s this.

five: blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. when time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.

There aren’t many rules Isack has for your relationship. Why bother, when everything is perfect without them? It’s not like you need a set date night, since you hang out with each other all the time anyway. He likes PDA. He would rather die than tell you who you could or couldn’t talk to, and he thinks you’d probably laugh in his face if he tried. Your relationship has always been one guided by what feels right in the moment, and Isack feels awfully right pretty much every time you’re around him.

There is only one rule set in stone: the Infinite Playlist. A certain list of songs, subject to additions but never subtractions, that the two of you are forever required to dance to. It had started before you were dating, back when Isack would have taken any excuse to watch you smile, to have a private moment with you. Your relationship only solidified the tradition. It doesn’t matter where you are, what you’re doing, or who you’re with. The first few notes of a song would play, and the two of you would drop everything to dance to it.

“What Makes You Beautiful” comes on in the grocery store aisle? Ditch the cart, because the two of you are finding an area open enough to perform your fully choreographed routine. “Alors On Danse” plays at a frat party? Hopefully you aren’t talking to anyone important, because that conversation is coming to a swift end.

Normally, Isack loves the Infinite Playlist. Today, he wishes Lando had played anything else.

It’s a classic, unseasonably warm day, the first one of the spring semester. It feels like everyone on campus is outside, textbooks open to pages they won’t read and Frisbees cutting lazy arcs through the air. Your friends are sprawled on picnic blankets on the lawns, idly chatting. Maya and Chloe are passing around a thermos of jungle juice. Ollie has his laptop out, allegedly to work on his thesis, but he’s mostly just scrolling through his Spotify queue.

You’re sitting under a gnarled old oak tree, back stiff against the rough bark and knees pulled into your chest. Isack settles on the grass about ten feet away, trying to make eye contact with you, but you are very deliberately avoiding his gaze, pretending to be absorbed in your multivariable notes. The air between you is charged with all the things you’d said to each other three days ago, heavy with all the silence that had settled between you since.

The argument hadn’t been anyone’s fault, really — just a silly miscommunication, something that should have ended fast and early. But you almost never fought, and you weren’t used to it, both too stubborn to back down and admit it was stupid so you could move on. Halfway through the argument, Isack had said something careless, something that stung, and you’d stormed out of his house with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. Now, everything is tense and uncertain between the two of you, too quiet and too sharp.

You’re still pointedly ignoring him when Lando pushes Ollie away from the laptop, proclaiming loudly that he absolutely needs to hear a certain song before the sun sets. Seconds later, the telltale bassline of “Get Low” starts blasting through the speakers, and Isack’s stomach drops. You may have been in a fight, but unfortunately, the Infinite Playlist hadn’t gotten the memo.

His gaze snaps to you, instinct winning out over pride. When you slowly lift your eyes from the papers in your hands, he feels a little surge of hope in his chest. After a second of uncertainty, he stands, finding an empty strip of grass, and motions you over.

He wants to make you laugh. He wants to be over the top, or ridiculously bad, or anything that will break through the stoniness in your face.

Slowly, almost too slowly, you warm up. When he tries the Sprinkler, you barely look at him, just tapping your toe against the grass. He Dougies, and you move a little bit closer. By the time he resorts to the Shopping Cart, you’ve loosened up enough to give him a snort of laughter. He reaches his hand out, and you take it, letting him twirl you straight into his arms.

“Je suis désolé,” he mumbles into your ear, holding you against him.

There’s a pause, where you don’t say a word. “‘M sorry, too,” you sigh, and the relief that rolls through him is overwhelming. “That was so stupid.”

“So stupid,” he agrees, dipping you just because he can, because you’re talking to him and the world feels right again. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

You giggle as he drops you, pulls you up again. “Me neither. Let’s not do it again, yeah?”

He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, as you grin like the last three days of cold shoulder could melt away just from the sheer force of your smile. “Deal.”

You rest your hands lazily on his shoulders, moving your body against his, and he presses a kiss to your neck. “Missed this,” he murmurs against your skin, hoping you know he doesn’t just mean the dancing.

“Missed you,” you retort, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling back just enough to look at you. Your cheeks are pink from the sun, eyes bright, and his chest feels very tight suddenly.

“I love you,” he blurts, and the relief he’s feeling shifts immediately to horror when you falter, feet slipping in the grass as you look up at him, something awestruck in your eyes. Before you have the chance to respond, he pulls you in by your hips, flush to his body. “—r sweet moves,” he finishes lamely, heart pounding in his chest. “I love them. Very classy, mon coeur.”

You laugh brightly, squirming against him. “Classier when you aren’t trying to grind on me, Hadjar.”

You don’t say that you love him, not then. The moment had passed. His cowardice had made sure of that. But he feels your eyes on him still, warm and hopeful, and he knows that another song, another moment will come soon enough.

six: write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival mr. darcy’s. debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? in her coat pocket? throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. let her wonder if you meant it.

By the third morning of spring break, Isack starts thinking about forever.

The beach rental is chaotic, to say the least — eight twenty-somethings in three bedrooms with one working bathroom, Maya and Gabi holding backflip contests off the porch into the deep end of the pool, an ever-growing pile of sandy towels that no one wants to take to the laundry.

It’s also kind of perfect, though, mostly because Isack gets to wake up every morning in a room with you. The sheets are mismatched and smell a little like the sea, and the bed is practically child-sized, barely big enough for the two of you to fit. But none of that matters as much as the fact that every time he wakes up, your legs are tangled into his, face mashed into his chest, hogging the entire comforter with your hand curled over his waist like you’d reached for him in the middle of the night and refused to let go.

It feels like playing house, at first. But then Isack starts letting himself imagine a world beyond the crappy Airbnb, a future where he never has to start his mornings any other way, and the domesticity of it all is doing something frankly dangerous to his heart.

So he writes.

It’s not supposed to be anything serious, at first. Just a way to get all the feelings out, scrawled into the back of his physics notebook and kept to himself. But the words keep coming, looping over themselves as he tries to put shape to the feeling in his chest.

Mon coeur,

We’ve been together for almost eight months now, and I keep thinking I should have said this already. I’ve been trying to find the perfect moment, the perfect words, practically since we started dating. But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe there is no perfect way to tell your girlfriend that she’s the most important thing in your life.

There’s this thing in physics I’ve been thinking about a lot called quantum entanglement. You probably know the concept, but in case you don’t, subatomic particles can get magically tied together, and when they do, each particle’s quantum state can’t ever be described again without the other. The particles’ fates get inextricably linked together, no matter how far away they are from each other.

I think I’m entangled with you, mon coeur, because I can’t see a future without you in it anymore. I want to wake up with you every morning, no matter how many times you kick me in the shins while you sleep. I want our toothbrushes to keep sitting next to each other on the counter. I want to keep dancing in the kitchen with you to the Infinite Playlist. I want to keep hearing you try to speak French to me. I want to keep making fun of your terrible French. I want to keep thinking about forever with you in a way that should scare me, but doesn’t at all.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I love you. Je t’aime. In English, in French, in whatever language you want to hear it in.

He reads it over three times, stomach churning. It sounds pathetic, desperate, like something from a lovesick teenager and not a very mature twenty-year-old who really should have figured out how to express this to you by now.

But it’s also true. Every word of it.

“Baby, get down here!” your voice floats up the stairs, and Isack rips the paper out of the notebook and shoves it into the pocket of his shorts frantically, like somehow you’ll be able to see it from a floor below him. He heads downstairs, where chaos is already in full swing. Pepe is chopping up what feels like a thousand oranges for mimosas, and for some reason, there’s batter on the ceiling.

“Thank god, our resident Parisian is awake,” you say, reaching for him as soon as he enters the kitchen. “Do you know how to make French toast? Because Chloe’s vision is not translating into reality.”

The letter feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket all day. He keeps looking for the right moment — nearly gives it to you on the beach while you’re reading, before Kimi interrupts to show you the shells he’d collected. He thinks about sliding it over the dashboard as he watches you drive into the town center for groceries, singing along to Fleetwood Mac with the windows rolled down so you can smell the salt air. Maybe he can leave it somewhere you’d find it by accident, like a secret saved just for you.

On the other hand, the thought of you actually reading it kind of makes him want to throw up.

When he tries to get rid of it, though, he can’t quite do that either. It feels like he’s crumpling up your relationship, all the things he knows he loves about you. So in the end, he settles for leaving it in the kitchen trash, neatly folded on top of an empty twelve-pack box and stained popsicle sticks, content in the knowledge that he has more time to figure out how to say everything he feels.

You’re all on the porch outside when shit goes sideways. The sun is beating down, your legs draped lazily over Isack’s lap as you play Uno with the boys. Gabi’s just won, and he’s being unbearably annoying about the whole thing.

“Alright, I should take out the trash before we make dinner,” you say absentmindedly, putting down your cards and unfolding yourself out of your chair, sauntering inside.

Isack doesn’t quite register the danger at first. Then it hits him. The trash. His letter. Your name on the front, scrawled unmistakably in Isack’s handwriting. He jolts upright so fast his chair tips over behind him.

“Merde,” he mutters, already scrambling across the deck, splinters digging into his feet. He shoulders past Ollie in the doorway, heart pounding in his ears so loud in nearly drowns out the chorus of confused voices behind him.

By the time he gets to the kitchen, breathing hard as if he’s just run a marathon, you’ve already found it. You’re holding the letter gingerly between two fingers, like you’ve picked it off the top of the trash, and Isack is so unbelievably fucked.

“Did you mean to throw this away?” you say, voice unsteady.

“I —” he starts, then stops, running a hand through his hair roughly. “It’s, um, nothing. Just trash. Yeah.”

After he finishes stammering through the world’s worst explanation, you look at him for a long moment. Then at the letter. Then back at him.

“Okay,” you say quietly, and drop the letter in the trash without unfolding it. You tie the bag off, pulling it out of the can, and walk out the side door without a backward glance. Isack stands in the kitchen, listening to the door creak shut behind you with the sinking feeling he’s just made a big mistake.

Dinner, predictably, is loud, full of overlapping conversations and splinters off the old patio furniture. Isack barely hears any of it. You’re sitting beside him, laughing at the story Gabi is telling about the guy next door and his snorkel mask, but there’s a tightness to your smile that hasn’t gone away.

You don’t bring it up. You don’t act weird. You still steal bites of pizza off his plate and brush your fingers over his knee when you reach for your Coke bottle. But he’s known you long enough to know you’re still thinking about it, to know he hasn’t gotten off the hook just yet.

“Just tell me one thing,” you say later in bed, voice soft and a little hesitant, fingers tapping against his thigh. “Was it something bad? About me?”

Isack stiffens, rolling over to look at you with wide, panicked eyes. “No, mon coeur,” he says gently. “No, never. Je te le promets.”

You nod slowly, biting your lip. “Okay. I trust you, I just — sorry, I just keep thinking about it. What would you write and then throw away?”

You’re looking up at him like you know what the letter said, or maybe like you hope you know, and the air between you turns sharp with potential. He wants to tell you. The words are right there, crowding at the tip of his tongue. He opens his mouth, and then he closes it again.

He’s scared. Scared that if you don’t feel the same, it’ll all fall apart. Scared that if you do, it’ll make everything real.

“It was nothing important,” he lies, and pretends not to notice the way your face falls just a little.

seven: wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realize you are actually just terrified of living without her. tell her with your hands shaking.

“Latte for Isack?”

The Daily Grind churns with the desperate energy of finals week, the scent of stress nearly overpowering the espresso aroma, but Isack keeps pushing his way through the college-age customers hunched over their laptops with dark circles under their eyes. Your robotics exam started just about three hours ago, which means you’ll be stumbling out of the engineering building any minute now. With any luck, Isack will be there with a coffee for you, ready to hear all about it. He’s planning his Best Boyfriend Ever acceptance speech in his head already.

He picks up the cup from the barista, at the last minute buys one of those lavender honey scones you always stare at through the display counter but never purchase because “twelve dollars for a pastry is capitalism at its worst, Isack, even if it does taste like it’s made by a baby angel.” He doesn’t have the money for it, not really, but imagining the excitement on your face when you see the bag is enough to have him forking over his credit card. His bank account is crying, but some things are worth being broke for.

He’s just across the street from the engineering building when students begin streaming out like survivors escaping a shipwreck. He scans the crowd until he spots you, hair piled on top of your head messily and shoulders slumped. Still beautiful, even after an hours-long grueling exam. He holds up the bag, knowing you’ll see it before you see him, and your entire face lights up, exhaustion melting into relief.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” you laugh, hands cupped around your mouth so he can hear you across the street. You’re half-jogging towards him in your eagerness, entirely focused on him and the promise of comfort he represents. So focused, in fact, that Isack sees the cab before you do, the yellow blur cutting through the intersection headed directly for you.

Isack freezes. He tries to scream, to warn you, anything, but the sound dies in his throat. In the entire universe, the only thing that matters is the ear-achingly loud honk of the horn and the startled look on your face.

You, thankfully, don’t freeze like him. You jump back, cab just kissing the edge of your shin, backpack swinging through the air and clattering back against your side.

The car doesn’t stop. It doesn’t even slow down. The whole thing is over in a second. But to Isack, the second stretches forever, and in it he can see everything that could have happened, the way his life could have split open in a single, terrible instant.

You stare after the car, dazed, and Isack is moving before his brain can catch up with his body. Not to you, not at first — he’s running halfway up the street, screaming obscenities after the car’s receding tail lights in rapid French about the driver’s ugly mother, the size of his dick, and how terrible he is at pleasuring his partner.

“Hey. Hey, Isack, it’s okay.” You catch up to him, place a hand on his arm, gently, and all the rage inside of him snaps.

“Ce n’est pas bien!” His hands are trembling, something hot pricking at the back of his eyes. “He could have killed you.”

“It was my fault,” you say softly.

Isack pulls you into a tight, desperate hug. He can’t stop seeing it every time he blinks: the cab’s tires squealing on the street, your sneakers jumping back, the bumper brushing against your leg.

He buries a hand in your hair, no doubt filling it with snarls and tangles, and breathes in the familiar, warm scent of your shampoo. His cheeks feel wet, for some reason. “He should have been more careful. Il aurait pu te tuer. You could have died.”

“I didn’t die,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and soothingly stroking his shoulders. “I’m okay, Isack.”

“You could have died. I could have lost you,” he repeats, and the words come out horribly strangled thinking about the prospect of a world without you in it. No more forcing him to taste-test your seasonal lattes. No more watching stupid Netflix romcoms because they make you laugh. No more slow dancing in his kitchen, swallowing your laughter with kisses when he steps on your toes. It wouldn’t be a life worth having.

“I love you,” he sobs into your hair. “Je t’aime, et tu aurais pu mourir. I love you.”

You run your hands through his hair, holding him as tightly as he’s holding you. “Isack, babe, you have to breathe. It’s fine. I’m right here, mon coeur.” Your accent is as terrible as ever, but you’re solid and breathing and alive against him, and he lets out a rattling gasp. “See? I’m right here. I’m okay.”

“Right,” he croaks, voice hoarse as he tries to catch his breath. “You’re here. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” you confirm. “Everything is okay. I know you’re panicking, but I’m fine. You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here.”

“Okay,” he breathes after a moment, pulling back and slowly disentangling himself from you, even as every molecule in his body protests at the distance.

You wipe your thumb gently over his cheekbones, brushing away the tears, and he presses his face against your hand like a cat. Desperately seeking your affection, your touch, any reminder that you’re still here with him. You smile at him, wobbly but real. “What’s in the bag?”

“Scone,” he manages to choke out. He’d nearly forgotten he had the bag at all. It’s ridiculously crumpled, fuchsia paper crushed between white knuckles. His fingers ache when he unclenches them.

“Really?” you ask. “The one from Daily Grind? Baby, you didn’t. That’s so sweet! You know I love those. Can we go back to my room and split it?” Even though he can tell you’re rambling, trying to distract him, your smile is enough to make him forget a little bit. So he sniffles and lets you lead him across campus, rubbing soothing circles into his palm the entire way home.

It’s not until later in your room, watching Star Wars and eating his half of the scone as you comb your fingers through his hair, that Isack realizes you didn’t tell him you love him too. You assumed he was panicking, which was true, but it didn’t make the feelings any less real.

He loves you, and you don’t believe him.

eight: say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. do not adorn it with extra words like “i think” or “i might.” do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “i love you too.”

The air smells like champagne and summer. Graduation day is a blur — sweaty hugs on the lawn, too-bright flash photos where at least one of you is sure to be mid-blink, parents crying as they watch their kids grow up.

Isack cheers, stomping his feet wildly, as you cross the stage to receive your diploma, tassels blowing in the breeze and smiling into the crowd megawatt-bright. After the ceremony, Ollie pops a mini bottle of champagne and nearly takes out his macroeconomics professor with the cork. Kimi runs a lap around the quad, Doriane screaming bloody murder on his shoulders. Pepe cries twice, once because the dean mispronounced his name during the ceremony and again when Isack presents him with a photo of the two of them from freshman year move-in day, all gawky limbs and awkward smiles.

The party starts as soon as your caps hit the ground. Isack’s house is spilling over with friends who don’t want to say goodbye just yet, dancing barefoot on the patchy backyard grass with beers sweating in their hands. There’s music pulsing through an overamped speaker, loud laughter echoing between the trees. You sit on his lap on the leaning porch steps, sipping from a Solo cup and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek when Chloe takes a Polaroid of the two of you. It comes out a little blurry, but Isack slips it into his phone case anyway.

By the time afternoon bleeds into evening, the two of you slip away from the party, too full of sentimentality to be around anyone except each other. For once, Isack doesn’t have a plan in mind, too content with your hand in his as you walk one last slow loop around campus. The brick paths you’ve worn down over four long years. The benches you’d studied on outside the dining hall, trading smuggled cookies with your head in his lap. The hill you’d sledded down together freshman year, when Isack took one look at your flushed cheeks and pretty smile and realized what he was feeling wasn’t just friendship.

“Oh, the fountain!” you cry delightedly, tugging his hand hard towards the stately stone fixture as you near the main quad. It’s a campus tradition, passed down through generations of sleep-deprived undergrads. Legend has it if you jump into the fountain with your sweetheart, you’ll always find your way back to each other. “Isack, we have to do it, come on.”

You set off across the quad, barefoot and heels swinging from your fingertips, but Isack stays, because every single place on this campus is a memory that leads back to you, and he starts to have the feeling that this very moment is what it’s all been building to all along.

“Mon coeur?” he calls out from behind you, hands shaking in his pockets. When you turn back to look at him, the setting sun is painting your skin golden, the sleeves of your gown billowing in the wind, and it takes all the breath out of his body. Four years of friendship, nearly a year of dating, and you still have the ability to make time stop for him.

“Yeah?” you ask, tilting your head with a curious expression, and he knows.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t say it drunk, or panicking, or praying for you not to really hear it, or with the desperation of someone trying to stop the clock. He says it with the quiet certainty of someone who’s been waiting way too long.

“I know,” you say, eyes sparkling. He waits for you to continue, heart in his throat, but you just grin smugly at him.

“Non,” he shakes his head as he walks towards you, smiling despite himself. “Not fair. You cannot pull a Han Solo unless your life is at stake. Actually, you cannot pull a Han Solo at all —”

You swallow his outrage with a kiss, pulling him in by the tie and knocking his cap askew. “I love you too,” you say against his lips, as his hands come to rest on your hips. “Really.”

“I know,” Isack breathes out, dizzy with it, as he tugs you towards the fountain. “Really.”

The fountain isn’t deep, water only reaching to mid-calf. But it’s shockingly cold for a June day, the spray raising goosebumps on Isack’s arms. You shriek with laughter as you follow him in. “Oh god. Not one of my best ideas,” you gasp at the sudden chill, the hem of your gown trailing in the water around you.

“What do you mean?” he grins, pulling you so close he can see the water droplets on your lashes. “It was a perfect idea. Now we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

You loop your arms around his neck, pressing up on your toes and kissing the corner of his mouth. “That would imply I’m planning on losing you in the first place,” you say, and Isack is hit with a wave of affection so strong it nearly makes his knees buckle.

“I love you,” he breathes out again, spinning you in a slow circle. “I’ve been wanting to say it for so long.”

You crinkle your nose at him, grinning ridiculously. “I love you too. But why didn’t you?”

“I was trying to plan out the right moment,” he admits.

And then, almost shyly:

“Turns out any moment with you is the right one.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #isack hadjar x reader #isack hadjar imagine #isack hadjar fluff #ih6 #f1 imagine #isack hadjar #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #isack hadjar x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #❀ my work .

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sturnioz · 22 days ago

Text

‘UNFAITHFUL’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader genre. angst. word count. 3.1k

❝you don’t get to talk about love, chris. not after what you did. love doesn’t look like that.❞

content warning. cheating, insecurities, cursing, heartbreak, breakdowns, shit relationships and shit friendships.

authors note. still on a writing hiatus, just in my feels and wanted to do something. this is very angsty and yet again, no happy ending. no part twos either. (sorry)

You had always been wary of the closeness between your boyfriend and your best friend.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least that’s what you told yourself. You wanted them to get along as it would’ve been awkward if they didn’t. But sometimes, their smiles felt too private, their touches lingered just a second too long, and the way their eyes found each other in a crowded room made your stomach twist in knots.

Still, you ignored it. You had to. After all, these were the two people you loved the most in the world. You told yourself it was all in your head, that your own insecurities were painting them in such a bad light. And even when they started spending time with you, you silenced the small voice beside you that begged you to question it.

You were too blinded by happiness. You were happy that your two favourite people in the world had not only cherished you deeply, but also got along so well.

But now, standing frozen in the bedroom doorway after returning from visiting your parents, your breath catches in your throat—ragged and shallow—as your eyes burn, the tears blurring your vision, but unfortunately not enough to hide the sight in front of you.

Chris, the person you thought you’d spend forever with, is tangled up in the sheets with Ani, your best friend. Their naked bodies move together in a way that leaves no room for doubt that they’ve done this before, and the sounds that spill from their lips pierces through the air.

“Oh my god!” It’s Ani who notices you first, her face contorting in horror as she turns her head at the right moment. She scrambles to grab the blanket to cover herself as if that will erase what’s already been done.

Confused by her outburst, Chris props himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing for a split second before his gaze finds yours. His eyes widen in panic, his face draining of colour as the realisation hits him like cold water.

“W-wait, wait, wait,” he stammers quickly, shoving Ani off him as he stumbles out of bed, his movements frantic and clumsy as his hands shake, reaching for you. “It’s not—it’s not what it looks like, I—please, let me just—I need to explain.”

“Don’t touch me,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the lump resting in your throat. You take a step back, your hands trembling as you push him away from you.

“Please,” he begs, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. The tears begin to well in his eyes, but they only make you angrier. “Please, baby. Don’t—don’t do this. Just hear me out. Please—”

You can’t bear to look at him any longer, so your gaze shifts to Ani who is sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket to her bare chest. Her face is flushed and her eyes are glassy with bubbling tears, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. The guilt etched across her face says enough.

Turning away from both of them, you spin on your heel and walk out of the room, your legs trembling beneath you which makes it harder for you to move in a straight line. Chris calls out your name, his voice cracking, but you don’t stop. You can hear him fumbling behind you, the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he hurriedly follows while grabbing his boxers, pulling them on in a rush as he chases after you.

“Wait!” he cries, his hand catching your arm just as you round the corner. His touch burns, and you yank yourself free with a sob, slapping his hand away as the tears stream down your cheeks.

You’re shaking now, your chest heaving with every breath as the weight of what you’ve just seen crashes down on you.

“Please… please, baby,” Chris pleads, refusing to let up. “Just listen to me, okay? Please. Don’t walk away from us—don’t throw this away.”

You freeze, his words hitting you like a slap to the face. “Don’t walk away from us?” you find yourself repeating, words riddled with disbelief. “Are… are you serious right now? You walked away from us the second you started fucking her!”

Chris flinches, his face crumpling as your words cut through him. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, breaking into a sob as he takes a step closer, his hands trembling as he cups your face. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it, okay? I didn’t—please, just don’t go. I love you. I love you so much. I love you.”

The pain in his voice only deepens your own, and you shake your head repeatedly, your tears falling faster as you try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his own tears mingling with yours as his grip tightens.

You want to push him away, to scream and curse and hate him with every fiber of your being, but your body betrays you as the sobs wrack through you. Your knees buckle beneath your weight, and Chris catches you with ease, his arms wrapping around you tight as you collapse against him.

He holds you like he’s trying to piece you back together, to try and mend what’s been broken as his own cries echo yours. He strokes the back of your head and whispers apologies you don’t want to hear.

Chris loves you—he swears it, over and over again—but love doesn’t fix anything.

He loves you, but he’s destroyed you too.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Chris whispers softly as you stiffly sit across from him at the table in the café. The room feels too calm and chilled compared to what’s brewing inside you both. It’s been a little over a week since you last saw Chris, having pulled out of his arms and bolting out of the house in a rush after your breakdown. “I’m, uh.. I’m happy that you came.”

“You and your brothers didn’t exactly give me a choice,” you reply coldly, and the embarrassed flush that creeps up his neck tells you he knows exactly what you mean. His brothers had practically begged you to hear him out, to give him one last chance to explain himself.

You had agreed, but not because you wanted to. You had agreed because you needed the closure—you needed answers.

Your hands tremble as you rub them together for warmth as you can feel them tingle with numbness. Chris notices this instantly. Of course he does. He always did have a way of reading you—knowing what you needed before you even had to ask, and just like he would have done before, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours.

“C’mere, let me—”

“No,” you yank your hands back before his warmth can touch you, despite craving the heat that emits from his palms. You refuse to let him soothe you. Not now. Not after everything.

Chris flinches at your harsh words and actions, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just… I didn’t—”

“Can you just tell me what you wanted to say?” you interrupt, your tone a lot colder than you meant it.

“Everything that happened that day… it didn’t mean shit,” Chris jumps straight into it, his voice raw and desperate as he leans forward on the table. “It was a huge fucking mistake, okay? And—and I don’t even know how it got that far. I fucked up. Bad. I know that. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I didn’t want it to happen. You… you’ve got to believe me.”

You let his words hang in the air, only hearing the distant clatter of cups and the coffee machines humming. Then, you speak, your voice steady but ice-cold. “How did Ani get into the house?”

Chris freezes, his face paling. His lips part like he’s about to respond, but no words come out.

You press on, “How did her clothes come off? How did she get naked in our bed? How did you end up inside her?” Your breath hitches for a moment, the bile rising in your throat. “Did she do it all by herself?”

Chris’ expression crumbles, and you believe he might actually break down right here in the middle of this café. But instead, he shakes his head quickly, his hands trembling on the table.

“Ani means nothing to me. Nothing. But you mean everything to me, you always have,” he says, licking his lips nervously. “You’re the first woman I ever fell in love with, okay? And I swear to god, you’ll be the last.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, unwilling to let him see you cry. Chris, on the other hand, makes no effort to hide as his shoulders shake slightly, his bright blues red-rimmed and glassy.

“I just… shit, baby. I love you so much, and I can’t forgive myself for what I did. I’ll never forgive myself. Ever.”

“Chris,” you speak his name, and his eyes snap up to meet yours, something desperate and hopeful swimming in his irises. “You don’t get to talk about love, Chris. Not after what you did. Love doesn’t look like that.”

Chris opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to silence him. “You don’t get to apologise either. You don’t get to tell me it was a ‘mistake’ and that it ‘doesn’t mean shit’ because you made that choice in the first place. You chose her.”

He shakes his head quickly as his tears fall freely. “What? No... no, I didn’t choose her, baby. I—”

“And you can’t say you love me when you were in bed with another woman. In the same bed where we shared our first kiss. In the same bed where I gave you my virginity. In the same bed where we made promises about our future together.”

“W-we can still do that,” Chris stammers, filled with fragile hope. “Baby, look at me. We can still keep those promises, okay? We can still have that future,” his hand twitches on the table like he wants to reach for yours. “We can fix this, I swear—”

“What are you not understanding?!” you cut him off, your voice rising in a way that startles even you. Chris flinches back at your volume, his wide and tearful eyes locked on yours. “That promise was broken the second you got into bed with Ani. You fucked up everything we had. Everything.”

“I…” his voice cracks as he tries to speak. “I’m so sorry,”

His shoulders sag, and he wipes his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, looking like a pitiful man who’s just lost everything—and he has.

You shake your head, tears now spilling from your eyes as you bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to ground yourself. You turn your head away from him and toward the window, watching the world outside as it moves on without you, and your stomach churns as you spot couples strolling by; their hands intertwined, their faces lit up with the kind of love and happiness you used to know.

One couple walks past, laughing as they nuzzle into each other’s arms, and the sight makes your chest tighten, their joy feeling like a slap in the face to remind you of what you’ve lost too.

It feels cruel, like the universe is mocking you.

You swallow hard as the bitterness consumes you. The thought of someone else’s love life makes you feel sick. It’s as if their happiness is rubbing salt into a wound that’s already bleeding you dry.

You want to run. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to disappear.

Actually, you just want to go home. To go home and to shut the world out.

“I’m gonna go,” your voice is quiet, but Chris hears it loud and clear as you push yourself up from your seat, zipping your coat as your hands tremble.

His eyes widen in panic, and he shoots to his feet. “Wait—wait, please,” he begs. “Don’t go. Please just… just stay a little longer. I—”

“Don’t contact me again,” you say, watching as he blinks, taken aback. “We’re done. For good. We… we’re never getting back together, Chris… not after this.”

Chris’ tears fall harder as he chokes out, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Before you can stop him, he grabs your arm and pulls you into a hug. You freeze as his arms wrap around you tightly—desperately—and you let him hold you, only because you know it’ll be the last time. You pat his back awkwardly, the gesture hollow and distant, but you don’t pull away. You let him cling to you as he sobs into your shoulder, his body shaking against yours.

Finally, he loosens his hold, his tear-streaked face tilting to meet your gaze. His eyes are all red, swollen, pleading.

“I love you.”

“Goodbye, Chris.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the café, refusing to look back at him as you push open the door—not even when you hear his broken sobs behind you.

“Chris hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s not eating either,” Nick says as soon as he walks through the front door of your apartment. He doesn’t even stop to take off his jacket as he heads straight for the sofa where you’re curled up under a blanket, a pint of ice-cream nestled in your lap. “He comes out of his room with bags under his eyes. Sometimes he doesn’t come out at all. It’s… it’s getting concerning.”

“Shame,” you mutter, scooping a spoonful of vanilla ice-cream and shoving it into your mouth. You keep your eyes glued to the TV as you pretend Nick isn’t even there. “Did you know the actor in this is forty? He looks twenty-seven at most… insane.”

Nick glances at the screen. “Haven’t you already seen this episode?”

“Yep.”

Your attention stays fixed on the TV as the main character and her love interest bicker back and forth over something stupid, and you let out a soft scoff, spooning another mouthful of ice-cream into your mouth.

It’s so much easier to focus on fiction problems than your own.

However, Nick doesn’t take the hint.

“Chris said you’re completely done with him, like, I’m talking there’s no chance of you two getting back together,” his words come out slow and cautious as he eyes you. “I think you should reconsider, you know? Maybe just give him one more chance to fully explain himself. Just the two of you—no distractions.”

You glance down at your phone, ignoring the knot tightening in your chest. “I think it’s supposed to be really sunny tomorrow,” you say lightly, opening your weather app. “I might head down to the park or something.”

Nick blinks, baffled. “Are you even listening to me? Chris is—”

“Oh my god, Nick. Just stop!”

The words explode from your mouth before you can stop them, and Nick physically recoils, his eyes widening in shock with his hand firm against his chest. You throw the blanket off your lap and rub your palm against your forehead, exhaling heavily as the frustration burns through your veins.

“You do this all the time… Chris did that, Chris did that. Chris feels like this, Chris feels like that—I don’t care!”

“Hey… calm—”

“Look, I know he’s your brother. I get that, but you’re constantly talking about him. You bring him up in every single conversation we have now, and you’re pitying him like he’s the victim in all of this!” The tears begin to well in your eyes as your voice cracks, but you don’t stop as you feel the anger bubbling up, making you powerless to contain it. “Chris wasn’t the one who got cheated on, Nick. Chris wasn’t the one who had to find a new place to live. Chris wasn’t the one who walked in on the love of his life balls deep in his best friend!”

Nick raises his hands in a defensive gesture, his voice softening. “I’m just trying to—”

“You know, you haven’t even asked me how I’m feeling. Not even once,” your voice wavers now, raw and broken as you stare at him with tears dripping down your cheeks. “You come over just to shove information about him down my throat. You… you’re making it impossible for me to breathe. It’s like I can’t even catch a break from him even though we broke up four weeks ago. Four weeks, Nick.”

“I just wanted to—”

“So, what do you even tell him when you see him?” you cut him off, your tone sharp. You’re aware that interrupting him all the time is starting to affect him as his jaw tightens a little, but you don’t care. “Do you tell him how shitty I’ve looked or felt? Do you tell him that I cried for days until I was too numb to cry anymore? Do you tell him that I spent weeks wallowing in self-hatred wondering when I had become such a shitty girlfriend that he felt the need to cheat on me? Do you tell him that I blamed myself for all of it? That I thought I wasn’t good enough?”

Nick stares at you, stunned into silence. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as he looks down. “It’s not like that,” he mutters. “I try to cheer him up, okay? He’s a—”

“You try to cheer him up,” you repeat with a bitter, humourless laugh. You sniffle, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. “That’s great, Nick. That’s all I needed to know.”

Nick frowns as he takes a step toward you, “You’re taking everything I say the wrong way—”

“You’re a really shitty friend, Nick,” you cut him off once again, and the words hit him like a punch to the throat. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his face falls. “It’s good to know where I stand with you on your friendship scale. Or are you only acting this way because it’s your brother? He gets a free pass?”

“I…” he opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out as he looks at you helplessly.

“Just get out of my apartment,” you say firmly. “Go console your brother… make sure he’s all fine and well,” you turn on your heel, heading toward your bedroom with every intention of shutting the door and locking the world out.

But before you turn the corner, you pause, glancing back over your shoulder to see Nick who hasn’t moved an inch; standing there frozen with his eyes filled with tears and guilt as he stares at you.

“I don’t want to see any of your faces again.”

#chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets angst #sturniolo headcanon #sturniolo triplets x reader #©sturnioz

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venussaidso · 5 months ago

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Mars Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

warnings!: mentions of mass-suicide and violence.

Nakshatra rulership indicates deeper behavioural patterns and specific talents rather than one’s fundamental personality, which is more governed by rashi rulership. This is why I do not prefer mixing rashi and nakshatra observations together, though there are exceptions — such as the rebellious and tantalizing nature of Mars being innately found in all Mars nakshatras and Mars signs. For example; Mars nakshatras are found in many well-known sex symbols, Anuradha may embody the Lilith archetype, Ashwini and Jyestha are known for being audacious and individualistic, while Bharani poetically merges violence — a radical form of rebellion — with beauty, making them one. But the consistent theme observed for this exploration is that Mars nakshatras focus more on bursts of energy, controversy, and the refinement through that.

There's definitely a heightened sense of energy and even aggression in this section of Earth & Air signs, supporting their pure drive through the mentioned themes I'll be touching on. And the themes are very typical of this planetary rulership.

There is this genre in challenging natural order and pursuing one's ideals, a recurring theme in Mars nakshatras, especially in ways that are so radical and even explosive. This can also be seen in mythologies that are particularly associated with Martian figures, such as Andhaka.

I may see an association with Andhaka to the Mars energy found in Ashwini nakshatra, as Andhaka was born blind, symbolizing an unreasonable destructive force. He also symbolizes darkness and ignorance, the combination of Mars's unyielding energy with Ketu's tamasic nature perfectly pointing to Ashwini. Yet, the guna of Dhanishta and Chitra is tamasic — meaning that Andhaka is a greater representation for these nakshatras. Both are considered demonic, which solidifies their connection to Andhaka who is considered a malevolent demon.

Mars is generally the planet most associated with Andhaka, as it highlights aggression and the drive for power. One of Andhaka's closest parallels are the fictional characters, Thanos and Ultron, from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. These parallels lie in the legend of Andhaka, this powerful asura (demon) who, despite his humble beginnings, sought to reshape existence according to his own vision. Though blind from birth, he gained invincibility through immense penance and sheer willpower (symbolizing the level of discipline this planet represents) and he commanded an army so strong that it threatened the cosmic balance. Andhaka believed himself worthy of ruling the universe, waging war against Shiva himself, and refusing to yield even in the face of destruction.

Like the character Thanos, Andhaka saw himself as a necessary force of change, willing to eliminate obstacles — including the Creator (Shiva) — to establish a new order.

Even the character Kylo Ren is another Dhanistha archetype, being played by the Dhanistha Ascendant native Adam Driver. Kylo has a vision of a new order, which is not just about destroying the past, but reshaping the galaxy according to his own ideals.

His intensely ambitious and destructive qualities, but also his capacity for transformation, signify the Mars influence. This being a tamasic nakshatra means that it thrives on intensity, chaos, destruction, and rebirth, reflecting his volatility & his drive to tear down the past to build something new (we also see his rise to power when he seizes control of the First Order after killing Snoke, wanting to be his own master rather than to continue to serve a higher authority. Though Dhanistha instills servitude, there's still potential for aggressive rebellion, as this nakshatra reflects self-empowerment — however extreme it may manifest).

Unfortunately, we have seen this mindset, in real time, with world leaders who forced a new order in their own country which essentially became a threat to everyone but them.

Donald Trump, who has Mrigashira Sun, easily comes to mind. Vladimir Putin, who Donald Trump now wants to take after, could have possible Chitra ASC. Xi Jinping also has Mrigashira Sun. And Adolf Hitler, who had a lot of Mars influence, with Chitra ASC and Ashwini Sun conjunct Mars. Even Benjamin Netanyahu, leading genocide for his fascist visions, has Chitra Sun & Moon. Regardless of all of their different ideals, they are examples of Mars functioning not only as a destabilizing force, but as a domineering one too. It needs submission. And so Martians will always have minions and enablers.

Again, Ashwini is Mars energy at its highest levels due to the nodal influence. And according to Claire Nakti, in her Serial Killer exploration, she states that whatever Ketu is conjunct, the themes of that planet become exaggerated or extreme — due to its sucking receptivity; further giving a perspective on Mars and Ketu energies together — which are both tamasic.

Similarly to Andhaka, Ultron, in his pursuit of ultimate evolution, had a plan to replace flawed organic life with a machine-driven future, much like Andhaka's attempt to overthrow divine order with his newfound strength. Both the mythology and Ultron's story arc portray Mars as an agent of transformation, however destructive it is, in them commanding armies and defying all limitations. Mars breaks barriers, in the first place.

This also means that Mars is a symbol of resistance, rebellion and growth as well. The character Katniss Everdeen, played by Mrigashira Moon native Jennifer Lawrence, in The Hunger Games sequel, stands against an oppressive, totalitarian government — her defiance sparking a revolution which threatens to dismantle the system and ultimately break all barriers to force freedom to all.

This is quite reminiscent of the character Curtis Everett, in the film Snowpiercer, who is played by Mrigashira Sun native Chris Evans. Curtis has held deep resentment for the Wilford's corrupt leadership (basically the elite people) and he is determined to lead a revolt against the elite of the front of the train. Another layer which highlights this character as Martian is his engagement in the horrible violence and chaos that ensues. The film is directed by Chitra Moon native Bong Joon Ho.

Violence is used as an equalizing force, since Mars does not moralize and acts on necessity instead. Counter-violence, in some of these films led by Martian natives, is done to balance power structures, rather than cause annihilation. Violence -> restoration.

Mars, being the warrior archetype, embodies the natural response to oppression with absolute force. So such influence will be often seen in strong, revolutionary leaders — even if they do not outright promote violence as a first resort, you will sense their Martian power. Such as the Ashwini Moon native Malcolm X, who strongly believed in self-defense, criticizing passive resistance.

Assata Shakur has Mrigashira Moon.

It is fascinating that Kendrick Lamar, and Tupac Shakur, are considered revolutionary thinkers — both having implemented messages of resistance with their mainstream appeal. Mrigashira Sun, Chitra ASC Kendrick Lamar especially with his aggressive delivery in his album To Pimp a Butterfly, and Mrigashira Sun native Tupac Shakur whose tracks ranged from introspective/political to raw street anthems.

The restless energy in all Mars nakshatras is already responsible for pushing one forward, even to the extremes, to initiate or force change; this being something clearly seen in breaking boundaries or challenging the status quo. Mrigashira’s association with breaking free is rooted in its dual focus on exploration/seeking and self-liberation/evolution, exactly why stagnancy or oppression cannot be allowed any longer — making this a very rebellious nakshatra. This notion of Mars seeking to transcend stagnancy can extend in other themes. This restlessness is seen through sexual impulses in the Netflix series Sex/Life.

As it is known, Mars in your chart governs one's sex drive and desires. This fiery planet represents passion and attraction. Mars governs primal urges, which include carnal desire, which can be so transformative for the native — similar to the act of violence to restore balance. According to certain Puranic folklore, when Mangala (Mars) sought a consort, he was rejected by various goddesses due to his raw heat. In the series Sex/Life, Billie's primal urges are so fiery and even animalistic that the energy scares her. But she eventually has to embrace that other identity, as Mars deals with raw empowerment. Exactly why natives with this influence quite literally exude sexuality and vitality, which explains why they become sex symbols in the first place.

But Mars, as it carries tamasic and primal energy in its influence, can make people the most evil, violent and domineering if such energy is not used constructively.

For healthier examples of Mars energy being used constructively, we can look at the film Pump Up the Volume (1990). It stars Chitra Moon Christian Slater, whose character agitates and stirs hidden impulses within the collective, bringing forth suppressed frustrations to the surface through his pirate radio station which gains a large following. His ability to ignite rawness in his listeners, encourage rebellion and self-expression, is something so very Martian. Much like Ketu, Mars can have an intense, subconscious effect on the collective – forcing people to deal with their animalistic nature in an authentic way. Christian Slater's character in Pump Up the Volume becomes the catalyst for unpredictable, at times destructive, reactions — which actually inspire growth more than anything. This film also inspired the Disney movie Radio Rebel (2012), with a similar plot, in which Dhanistha Moon Debby Ryan's character sparks a movement amongst her peers and challenges authority. This theme of being a total disruptor of the status quo or encouraging freedom from restrictive rules is a key element in all Mars influences.

So, the core themes of all of these Mars nakshatras are self-assertion and authenticity, which indicates what is supposed to be cultivated with balancing passion and refinement (Mars pushes for transformation, after all).

This being the planet of raw energy, of impulsive action, and extreme rebellion, can reflect themes of needed chaos and animalistic drive. Both of these movies show the Martian influence behind the incite of radical shifts, often seen in controversy and the destabilization of institutions etc. You will also notice how Mercury nakshatras almost function similarly, especially Revati, the nakshatra of peak expansion, which eliminates all barriers (such as the movie V for Vendetta which is about anarchy). This further supports the constant duo between Mars and Mercury nakshatras.

Mars being the literal planet of war, survival, and primal instinct is translated repeatedly in films about lawlessness, violent anarchy, or rebellion, where the main character, usually a Mars nakshatra native, is able to survive using brute force and wit against outward violence & chaos.

The explosive expression of Mars is so perfectly depicted in the movie Mad Max: Fury Road (2015), directed by Chitra Moon native George Miller.

The film's primal core is survival of the fittest, implementing relentless energy in pursuit of the War Rig. And the character Max, played by Chitra Moon native Tom Hardy, represents the perseverance of Mars, able to navigate the chaos & lawlessness with pure instinct and wit — a trait common in all Mars nakshatras as they possess a level of high intelligence.

The plot of the film also includes a violent rebellion against the tyrannical warlord, and the rich cinematography supports the blend of the explosive, fiery nature of Chitra through its artistic genius. George Miller has definitely succeeded in executing his vision, as this nakshatra grants one the ability to express their grand ideas — the Mars rulership giving the native a higher success rate.

Mars nakshatra natives operating as visionaries who are, at times, self-absorbed, or even extremist, definitely points to the urgency and energetic drive which is provided by Mars. And the ability to even dream or think big is provided by the Venus and Mercury influence. The character JD from Heathers is certainly a terrible manifestation of the selfish visionary.

Jason Dean’s need to remake the world (even if it's through mass suicide) and his desire to tear down the oppressive social system in Heathers ties well into the visionary nature of Chitra. He wants to create a "better" world by destroying the old, his motivation making him parallel characters such as Kylo Ren, or even Ultron, in that sense.

As I've spoken of Kakegurui before (the anime & Japanese live-action), I've highlighted Mary Saotome as Martian as she has been portrayed by the Dhanistha natives, Aoi Morikawa & Minami Tanaka. Mary is the typical queen-bee of the school, caring only about maintaining her dominance over others. But then she falls from grace, and she experiences the harsh reality of being at the bottom of the hierarchy.

However, instead of aiming to overthrow the elite system altogether, the powerlessness she feels from being at the bottom fuels her desire to climb back up the ranks and reclaim her dominance. Usually, once the Martian has gotten some taste of power, they're unwilling to let it go. That's why you get these dualistic themes, as someone like Mary Saotome upholds hierarchal systems while someone like Jason Dean wants to destroy them. But, this may also speak to the difference between Dhanishta nakshatra and the earlier Mars nakshatras.

Dhanishta's purpose is to give one the ability to be on top of any hierarchy, which is exactly why its natives can be extremely gifted or resourceful in many things. Dhanistha would be the Mars nakshatra that is likelier to be the non-disruptor, keeping a harmonious nature within society than challenge or rebel against it for radical change, given that this nakshatra is more focused on discipline and gaining power within restrictions (and that is completely due to its Saturn rulership, making it more passive and self-controlled than its prior trine nakshatras).

So the character Mary Saotome is more calculated than violent, as her goal is not to abolish the oppressive system, but to reclaim power within it.

Kylo Ren is similar to Mary Saotome in this regard, as his goal is not to destroy the system, but to seize control of it. He doesn't care about dismantling the Sith or the First Order — he wants to rule over it. Rather than abolishing it, he embraces the Sith-Imperial power structure and works to remake it under his rule. He manipulates, schemes and positions himself to gain power, very similar to Loki, who is played by Dhanistha Sun Tom Hiddleston. Just like Loki, Kylo also has a deep need for validation and power.

Both Jason Dean and Kylo Ren are both driven by anger, rebellion, and a desire to break free from the system — but on their own terms. Though JD believes in destruction, Kylo believes in power. These Martian natives have a singular vision which they spend the majority of the time trying to make a reality. Both of them fall in love, or form an intense connection, with a Mercury nakshatra native who start off idealistic and resistant to the Martian's radical, destructive methods. Rey is played by Revati Sun Daisy Ridley and Veronica Sawyer is played by the Jyestha Ascendant native Winona Ryder. Both Rey and Veronica are challenged to join the dark side with their Martian counterparts, as JD wants Veronica to embrace the chaos and destruction with him, while Kylo wants Rey to rule alongside him.

The very reason why these Mercury nakshatra natives find themselves in an interplay with Mars nakshatra natives is because of their similarities. Rey grew up abandoned and powerless, resenting the idea that worth and power was only reserved for certain bloodlines — typical of Revati nakshatra as it symbolizes the search for belonging and completion (she didn’t fit anywhere in any hierarchy, as she floated between worlds; which supports the purpose of this nakshatra to transcend beyond the material <hence why it's called the Wealthy Star, regardless of humble beginnings>, as Revati is ruled by Pushan, the shepherd deity who guides lost souls). And when Kylo voices her frustration, saying to her, "You have no place in this story," this validates her anger and loneliness, as he, too, rejects the rigid power structures that tried to control him. While Veronica despises the toxic social order of her school, where the Heathers dominate, and cruelty is rewarded (her ability to see through the illusions of popularity & power without getting sucked into the superficiality reflects Jyestha’s sharp awareness & strong resilience). JD's desire to burn it all down initially excites Veronica, only to then scare her away because his destructive, power-driven acts make him no different to the tyrants she wanted nothing to do with in the first place.

To the theme of lawlessness, the film The Purge (2013), quickly comes to mind. It is directed by James DeMonaco, who has his Sun and Moon in Chitra nakshatra, about the institutional breakdown of a government which legalizes crime for one night, encouraging unrestrained Mars energy at its purest.

The film Escape from New York (1981) also has an aspect of lawlessness to it, as New York City is basically a prison to the most dangerous inmates ever — making it a chaotic jungle. It stars Mrigashira ASC native Kurt Russell who plays the character Snake Plissken. He embodies the combination of Mars and Gemini energy, always having a strategy and being constantly on the move. And like a Martian native, he questions authority and doesn't follow orders blindly, having a rebellious edge to him. His survivalist mentality reflects Mrigashira being a nakshatra of searching and surviving, giving one the ability to thrive in dangerous environments (the nakshatra being symbolized by the deer further signifies alertness and perception).

Martians also falling into warrior archetypes is the least surprising, and it's interesting that they are intuitively cast in huntress roles as well. Mrigashira is linked to tracking, making sense of the obvious connections to the genre of bounty hunting. This nakshatra literally embodies the mindset of a seeker, and due to the Mars influence, extends further to the mind of a huntress. Bounty hunters rely on strategy, intelligence, and tracking abilities to locate fugitives. Mrigashira, being ruled by Soma (Moon), which governs intuition, instinct and adaptability, supports the skillset of the bounty hunter even more.

In the series The Mandalorian, Din Djarin was a bounty hunter who is portrayed by the Mrigashira ASC native Pedro Pascal. In the 1977 film A Man Called Blade, Blade is a hatchet-wielding bounty hunter with a dark past who is played by the Dhanistha Sun & Moon native Maurizio Merli. In Star Wars, Boba Fett is regarded as one of the most fearsome and capable bounty hunters, and he was played by Dhanistha Sun Jeremy Bulloch.

The Mars nakshatras being in both Earth and Air rashi sections points to the importance of structure vs fluidity, suggesting that Mars is mastering both the physical and mental battlefields. The whole mastermind archetype perfectly aligns with these nakshatras, specifically Mrigashira, the nakshatra of the eternal quest for knowledge.

The strategy of Mars, the creativity of Venus (Libra/Taurus), and the craftiness of Mercury (Gemini/Virgo), can make for a theatrical trickster, instigator or mastermind, as seen with the character the Riddler.

As Mars is associated with the head, since it is co-ruling Aries (and the head is more emphasized in Ashwini nakshatra, symbolized by a horse's head which signifies qualities of swiftness such as quick wit); this means that Mars drives intellect, providing one the energy to slice through life with strategy and dominance with accumulated knowledge to defeat opponents, giving one the gift in noticing details that nobody else would (this ability often arises when an individual is on survival-mode, further showing how Mars, being associated with survival of the fittest, makes its natives have a keen sense of awareness). This is exactly why Mars nakshatras are often found in medias that have to do with solving mysteries.

Miss Marple is literally the original female detective. She is an elderly amateur, consulting detective who has been prominently played by Mars nakshatra natives. Throughout many film adaptions, she has been portrayed by the following actresses; Chitra ASC Gracie Fields, Chitra Suns Angela Lansbury and Helen Hayes, Chitra Moon Geraldine McEwan, Dhanistha Moon Joan Hickson, Dhanistha Sun Julia McKenzie. In the series DI Ray, Chitra Moon Parminder Nagra plays a Birmingham-based detective. In the series The Fall, Dhanistha Moon Gillian Anderson is a sharp, determined detective. It reminds me of the relentless detective in the Spanish series Berlin, played by Dhanistha Sun & Moon native Najwa Nimri. Though you'll see Ketu nakshatra natives take up this genre as well, it seems to be dominated by Mars influence. In the film Silence of the Lambs, Magha Moon Jodie Foster plays detective Sterling who is the fixation of a terrifying serial killer; in Hannibal, Jodie Foster is replaced by the Mrigashira Moon & ASC native Julianne Moore, continuing the story as detective Sterling who finds herself in what you'd consider a dark romance, or game of prey-&-predator, with Hannibal (which has to do with Mrigashira nakshatra, in general, more than it just being a Mars nakshatra).

So high IQ, beauty, mass appeal, and dominance can be a full package when it comes to Mars nakshatras. Each Mars nakshatra may provide one with a gift to expand one into elite rooms or into higher positions of power.

Dhanishta nakshatra possesses Khyapayitri Shakti, which is the power to bring fame and abundance. Mrigashira nakshatra, with its seeking nature, is powered by Prinana Shakti, which gives fulfillment. Chitra nakshatra, ruled by Tvashtar, who is the cosmic craftsman, has the ability to accumulate good merit in life from being powered by the Punya Chayani Shakti.

As Dhanistha is associated with rhythm & performance, Mrigashira being partially ruled by Venus, and Chitra's deity, Tvashtar, being the god of artisans and fashioning, it comes as no surprise that these nakshatras are prominently found in the art, entertainment, and fashion industry or in celebrity culture in general. Often the faces of the glitz and glamour.

Chitra especially, since it signifies beauty, meticulousness and expressing imagination on the material plane. Chitra is literally the nakshatra of the visionary.

The Disney princesses I'd confidently associate with Chitra are Moana and Ariel. As this nakshatra is symbolized by the pearl, it points to the pursuit of brilliance. And like the pearl hidden in the ocean, their path involves venturing the unknown, seeking newfound radiance or, similar to Mrigashira, finally capturing the higher power they've always been seeking — showing just how these natives are deeply aligned to fate. Mars provides these characters with enough enthusiasm and restlessness to fulfill that destiny.

Mrigashira, Chitra, and Dhanistha each embody core themes which have to do with the relentless pursuit of fulfilment, whether it be alignment with one's true identity (such as through Mrigashira's trope of memory loss, or Rapunzel retracing her true roots), or knowledge, mastery, status/validation, or freedom. All three nakshatras make individuals challenge their own limitations, as they are a force of growth themselves. This falls perfectly well into the warrior archetype which defies hierarchy and reshapes their reality through strategy, ambition, rebellion, and even violence.

All of this just to say, they have the power of INFLUENCE and IMMENSE GROWTH.

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genyawritesshizz · 9 months ago

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Promotion - Sentinel Prime X Reader

Spending your days endlessly mining energon you yearned to one day be promoted. To finally free yourself from the frame aching work of the mines. Yet when you catch the optics of the Sentinel Prime, that promotion may come at a terrible cost, maybe you should have read the fine print.

Tbh it’s very little plot mostly just smut.

18+ ONLY

IVE NEVER WRITTEN FOR TRANSFORMERS NOR HAVE I READ MUCH FIC OF IT BUT I TRIED TO GET THE TERMS RIGHT BUT YA KNOW, ITS A LOT.

Possible part 2, we’ll see how this does.

WARNING: Dubious consent, emotional manipulation, Power Imbalance, (TBH Sentinel is a walking red flag), Sexual Coercion, Size kink, SMUT, Cybertronian reader,

This is essentially just robot porn I'm sorry to all my anime followers :(

The first time Sentinel Prime had set his optics on you he knew, much to his initial disgust, he wanted you.

A miner.

Of all the femme’s at his disposal the one that at last managed to catch his gaze was a cogless, bottom level, miner.

“That thing?” With a snarled lip and multiple sets of trailing skeptical eyes, Airachnid's own revulsion was evident. Far down below the balcony on which they stood, walking the bustling city streets you at last returned to his hungry gaze.

“Unfortunately so.”

Primus, what an honor it was to be within the presence of Cybertrons protector, the bot who single handedly protected all Cybertronians from the Quintessons; Sentinel Prime.

After being approached by Arachnid and ordered to follow her you had initially feared you had broken an unknown protocol, resulting in a demotion. Yet much to your shock within the gold columned building you had been led to he was there.

The look of pure admiration within your optics as you stared up to him in awe coupled with the now quiet whir of your internal fans as your spark raced within his mere presence fed his already raging primal desire.

Such blind naivety.

"Walk with me. I’d like to discuss something important." His tone was warm but carried a weight of authority. One you could not help but blindly follow.

The two of you stroll through the empty corridors, arachnid standing guard just outside of its entrance.

“Tell me, have you always felt bound to the mines? Or have you ever imagined something greater for yourself?" You shift, pace faltering a smidge, taken aback by his directness. You're proud of your work as a miner but can’t deny that you’ve thought about rising above this level.

"The mines are… Well, they’re home. I have my friends down there. But I’ve always wanted to do more…to make a real difference for Cybertron."

Sentinel nods, his optics narrowing slightly. Searing blue scanned from the top of your dull paint chipped helm to your transfixed gaze, (noting how you subconsciously averted it away from him when noticing his search), down to your chin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, signaling his satisfaction in finding whatever he had hunted for.

Vulnerability suited you well.

"I could see that. You carry yourself with a strength that is rare, even among the most seasoned warriors."

His confident stride deviates him closer to you and he lowers his voice just a touch.

"Cybertron needs warriors with your spirit. And not just in the mines. In places where real change can be forged."

His words spark something in you. Your gaze sharpened, instantly locking with his, the once thick humility gives way to a flicker of pride.

‘Is he going to promote me?’ You hopefully thought. You had been working your frame down to the wire for the last few rotations in hopes of this.

Sentinel picks up the change in demeanor immediately. Before continuing his sweet talk, he comes to a complete stop and turns towards you.

His frame is significantly larger than yours, as to be expected when comparing a cogless to a Prime.

Though, the way he truly towered over you left you feeling far weaker than usual as he had to bend down significantly to reach optic level with you.

"Too often, talents like yours go overlooked down there. Others might not see it, but I do. Imagine if you were to rise up, to stand among those who shape Cybertron’s future. Those who ensure our planet’s place as the greatest in the galaxy." With each passing word he had leaned closer, faceplate now mere centimeters from yours.

Your spark fluttered.

His venting flowed deliciously warm against your intake.

Proximity feedback signals fired on high and energon lines pumped furiously fast.

Yet despite your system's shock at his actions, you could not look nor move away.

“You really think… I could be that?”

A set of servos planted themself around your lower chassis, their span long enough to completely wrap around you.

Your servers struggled to process exactly what was happening, focusing solely on the swirling lights of blue that threatened to swallow you whole.

“I know you can.”

The digits ensnaring your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his wide frame.

His helm delved lower, denta lightly nipping at the sensitive wires between the spaces of your minimal plating.

The second you beeped in surprise then melted into his embrace, helm craning to the side allowing him further access, he knew once again.

You were not going anywhere.

But then again, why would you want to?

When your protector was so kind enough to show you, a nobody, such special affection.

Never had you anticipated that you would ever find yourself within a Primes personal suite yet here you were. Sprawled out atop a luxurious berth, hidden away from the rest of Iacon city, with desires you had never even thought to dream of coming true.

Your gracious leader's frame was reduced to a hunched, yet still ever imposing, form as he kneels between your legs. Your modesty paneling had long since been retracted, revealing your array to his hungry gaze, and allowing you to relish in all the new sensations your Prime was bestowing upon you.

No, in all your cycles you had never found the desire to fragbond with someone. Yet now as Sentinel Prime’s silver glossa ravenously glides through the throbbing mesh of your valve and mouthpiece occasionally latching onto your external node you cannot believe your hesitancy for such pleasures.

To think you had gone for so long without.

Not to worry, never again shall you ever have to suffer such a fate.

It is extremely out of character for Sentinel to give his partner's pleasure this way or in any way/to care about it.

Normally he wastes no time in pleasuring others, he was a busy man after all. Instead focusing solely on his own release within others bodies then disposing of them.

But something about having you pinned beneath one of his arms, the other easily reaching over your head to hold your wrists down, the way you cried out for him, your Prime, and to be completely at his mercy…It has his spike twitching beneath his own paneling.

Savagely he feasts upon your now swollen valve, thick glossa entering your spasming opening, nose buried atop your external node.

“M-my, oh Primus! - My Prime I-” You were completely unfamiliar with the feeling boiling inside you, it felt as though a coil was winding. Each intrusion of his glossa only pulled it tighter.

“That’s right, say my name.” A smug smirk tugged itself into the corners of his faceplate before he delved back where you so desperately wanted him.

You looked and sounded both pathetic and desperate.

He loved it.

“Sentinel!”

Overloading into the mouth of said mech was absolutely euphoric.

Though despite your high, he was left utterly displeased to hear you leave off the Prime in your cry.

He had earned that title.

It was his name.

You would learn the error of your mistake soon.

He did not ask permission to continue.

Standing up from his crouched position, the grip that once held you down now flipped you onto your chest plate and dragged you towards the edge of his berth, allowing your legs to dangle off the edge.

Even on the tips your pedes you would still not touch the golden floor beneath.

Positioning your aft up into an arch he at last retracted his paneling, allowing his spike to spring free.

Central processor still short circuiting under the throws of overloading, you did not even notice the shift in position.

Once your intake had returned to normal your mind followed suit, catching up to the reality of what was happening.

Yet it was too late to protest as something sickeningly thick prodded at your valve's still quivering entrance.

It felt like far too much.

Trying to squirm away from it you're met with a dark chuckle and thick digits atop your shoulder, easily pulling you back down into position.

“Where do you think you're going? We're just getting started sweetspark”

The moment the head of his spike entered, you felt an immediate sense of dread wash over and a cold shiver through your struts.

“Too big...” Your vocalizer had barely returned, causing the whine to sound utterly pitiful, drowned in static and served only to feed Sentinel's ego.

“Hm? What's that?” Leaning over your form, faceplate centimeters away from your audio receptors, steam rolled with his words; fogging over the heaving metal of your shoulder plates.

“Frag…You-You’re too big.”

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” His tone was high in pitch and laced with manipulation. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your Prime now would you?”

A strangled whimper and a shake of your head ‘no’ gave little confirmation to his taunt in ‘permitting’ him to keep going, not that he cared whichever direction your response led.

Even if you wanted to stop, you had no power to break away from him.

A deep, dominating, chuckle bubbled within his chest plate. “I thought not. You’re serving me, a great honor really.”

It felt like being pried open, the way his spike speared into your clamping valve was utterly painful.

Despite your cries you attempted to stay still as the gold winged Prime behind you continued to push further.

Each half centimeter only served to strengthen the burn.

Halfway in you had closed your optics, denta plates gritted tightly shut.

“Take it all, I know you can.”

The same four words that once filled you with hope now filled you with burning heat.

You will take what he is so graciously giving you.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, his entire spike was successfully sheathed inside.

Though this was just the beginning.

“So tight,” Your body was clamped around the intruder in a vise grip. Desperately begging for it to be removed. “So small.”

His pace was brutally fast. The servos on your shoulder and hip kept you from escaping or sliding too far away from his attack.

Surprisingly, after a few klicks, the tight inner calipers of your valve slowly loosened. His spike, now slathered in a combination of fluids, began sliding without much resistance.

At last, a few surges of pleasure coursed through your system.

Soon both of you were grunting, occasionally moaning. Though your sounds far outnumbered his.

Your servos clenched into the smooth bedding atop his berth, surely tearing the fabric though in this moment neither of you cared. However it was something he would be sure to punish you for later.

“You're mine, little miner.” His hips pistoned faster, slamming against your aft, surely to leave you sore. “All Mine.”

In response all you could do was hold on tighter, moaning louder with each intense slam.

“I’ll. never. let. you. go.” Each word sent another wicked surge into your swollen valve.

Blind sighted by the throes of pleasure bordering on overstimulation his words simply did not translate in your faltering audio receptors.

Though he meant every bit of it.

Helm falling back and a loud moan echoing throughout the gold-plated room, his overload blazed hot through his system. Filling your already stuffed valve to the brim with his transfluid.

Fans whirling on high, neither of you moved from your conjoined position for a few klicks.

After he's regained his senses fully, he removes himself from your valve, being sure to marvel at his work of completely ruining your once virgin body with a devilish smirk. Admiring the way his bright blue transfluid seeped from your still clenching valve.

Though this will be far from the last time he sees you like this.

With wobbling arms, you attempted to rise, though as you began to lift yourself up a large servos pushed you back down.

"We're not done."

True to his word, you had earned a promotion.

Fitted with only the finest armor paneling and a fresh coat of paint you had earned yourself the pristine position of his pet.

A position you held with utmost dignity, after all you were serving your Prime.

#sentinel prime #sentinel prime x reader #transformers one #female reader #one shot #smut #dubc0n #transformers fic #Wrote this instead of sleeping #valveplug #cybertronian reader

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florencebirdsong · 2 months ago

Text

Monthly Hunt

Rio Vidal x Reader

Agatha All Along Week 2025 - Day 3: Breeding

Summary: Foxes don’t submit on command. Rio has to catch you if she wants to breed you.

Tags: breeding, breeding season, pet play, hybrid, primal play, biting, strap-on, fox hunt, Dom Rio, Sub Reader, Non-human Rio, Fox hybrid Reader

No pronouns used to refer to Reader.

Words: 976

Authors note: Shout out to @caroldantops for introducing me to the wonders of hybrids!! I'm obsessed

This is another non-human Rio chasing you in the woods fic. I’m employing the “oh yay two cakes!” mentality here and enjoying it immensely. I hope you do as well

ao3 | masterlist

Your heart beats in your ears. Rio is close but there’s no way of telling how close. Her aura seeps from every direction. Soothing and familiar.

You fight the urge to run. It’s just as likely you’ll run directly towards her as away. You have to wait for the right moment instead of guessing.

Sometimes guessing right doesn’t even matter. If she’s impatient enough she’ll appear in your path anyway. But it’s so rare it’s better not to risk the blind running. She likes the chase too much and she’ll give you just enough of a chance to slip from her grasp again.

Your ears twitch as you listen for any whisper of her. You can’t always trust what you see but Rio has yet to trick you with fake footsteps. Nothing except for the feel of her aura growing stronger.

Snap. You twitch, barely resisting the instinct to run. Leaves rustles in the same direction. You hold still. It could be a trick. Your ears twist and twitch. You block out the natural, and unnatural, sounds of the forest and try to sense any hint of a footstep.

There. You take off in the other direction. Footsteps follow you. Then to your left. Wind rises behind you and you know Death is above you. Your erratic changes in direction do little to lose her.

You feel her descend and you launch yourself forwards and into a roll. You pop up into a run then pivot right. You’re too slow. Claws rake along your skin before sinking in, twisting you towards her.

You snarl and twist and swipe, the thrill of the fight filling you. Rio allows the illusion of scratches to appear and your chest fills with pride at having managed to make any at all. Rio likes the fighting just as much as you do and you’ve improved a lot as you learnt her quirks.

Seeing an opening, you go for her neck with bared teeth. The very tips of your canines graze her skin before she slams you into the ground. You yelp in surprise. You’d been too focused on the taste of her skin to remember to keep her from gaining a proper hold of you. It’s one of your usual downfalls.

You still struggle despite her tight grip. She uses her own weight to trap your lower body. She manages to get a hand in your hair despite your continued squirming and scratching and pushing. She pulls your head back far enough to put your neck at an awkward angle which forces you to still.

You bare your teeth and growl at her. Unfortunately, your growls keep petering off into needy whines.

“Caught you,” Rio says, her voice deep.

You snarl your denial. You aren’t caught until you’re limp.

Roots break from the ground around you and curl over your limbs. The roots pull your arms and legs towards the ground. You fight against them but they’re too strong.

Your wrist is close enough for you to snag your teeth onto it and chew on the one surrounding it. Your teeth are sharp but the root is thick.

“Still so much fight in you.” Rio’s voice is velvet. Another root replaces the one you break. You growl. Rio growls back. You instinctively bare your neck. She laughs. You hiss. Her hand releases your head to press down on your neck. You grumble but you’re as immobile as before.

“None of that,” she tsks before her voice turns into a husk. “Time for the real fun to begin.”

Rio pulls her strap out and you still. You shouldn’t stop. There’s still a small chance you can get away from her again. But you don’t want to. You’re empty and aching and she’s moments away from soothing it all. Prolonging the chase isn’t worth the denial with her cock brushing up against you.

Rio purrs at your obvious submission. She doesn’t ease her grip on you entirely but her weight lessens and the tight grip on your throat eases into a caress.

She slowly pushes inside of you. She’s big and you’re incredibly wet. You moan at the stretch. She pushes in to the hilt and you try to meet her. Her roots keep you still. She’s in complete control.

She pulls out until only the tip is inside you before filling you with one thrust. The pace she sets is harsh and fast. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the clearing. Her roots keep you against the ground; keep your claws away from her: stop you from turning the tables and riding her.

Your tail curls around your hip and Rio gently runs her hand through the soft fluff. Electricity races from your tail and up your spine. You moan and arch into her. You’re so full yet you want more. You want to feel the stretch, you want her entire weight on you, you want the feeling of her presence to be a strong pressure instead of a light caress You want to be surrounded by her, inside and out.

Rio’s focus has left her distracted to other things. Like the fact that your face is pressed against her shoulder. Her smell fills your nose. Salt seeps across your lips. The impulse is as strong and instantaneous as always and you bite down on the deceptively soft skin.

Her own teeth sharpen and she sinks them into you, right on the scar from when she’s bitten you so many times before. The pain is sharp and travels directly to your core. You whimper into her skin, her continued movements turn it into a moan. Pure bliss rushes over you.

You tremble below her and you feel her own body tense. Warmth floods the deepest part of you and you moan again. Your jaw tightens reflexively and Rio growls her triumph.

#birdsong writes #rio v.#rio vidal #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x you #rio x reader #rio x you #smut #x reader #reder insert #rio vidal fanfiction #Agatha all along #lady death

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winteryreads · 3 months ago

Text

various hsr trios and how they play uno! -various x reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic!)

warnings: none!

word count: 816

author’s note: i never post writing during the week, but enjoy haha! technically you guys would be a quartet if you played uno with them but like!! if we ignore that fact, i think life is still okay haha! hope you enjoy! <3

taglist: @cmiru, @unriding (Moze’s here, that’s why you’re tagged!), @m1ckeyb3rry (the trio of amphoreus is not here but thought you’d like this!), @vyyper, + @sheyfu! lmk if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

The Astral Express (March 7th, Dan Heng, Trailblazer):

Dan Heng wins almost all the time, it’s almost infuriating.

Trailblazer always has the most ridiculous cards and somehow still loses.

you and March team up to try to take down Dan Heng- it never works, unfortunately.

you, March 7th, Dan Heng, and the Trailblazer sat in the express car, playing a very fun and not at all hostile game of uno. you and March sat next to each other, while the Trailblazer and Dan Heng sat across from you. honestly, if uno was a game of teamwork, you should be teaming up with Dan Heng, since he always wins. but do you ever learn your lesson? no! not one bit. you place a +4 card down on the pile, March adds another +4, and now the game reaches Dan Heng, who slightly smirks, much to your dismay. he somehow places another +4 on the pile and quietly goes “uno.”

you all lose your minds.

The Yaoqing trio (Feixiao, Jiaoqiu [non-blind for this scenario!], Moze):

you all take a shot everytime Feixiao wins a round, which thankfully isn’t very often. she may be a general, but she sucks at the game.

Moze, however, is an absolute god at the game. gets all the good cards, plays fair, and is a good sport. truly the only question is how he ended up here (Feixiao begged him with puppy eyes).

Jiaoqiu plays fair, has pretty ok cards, and sometimes wins. he’s not quite a god at the game, but he’s not AWFUL like Feixiao.

you sat next to Jiaoqiu, while Feixiao and Moze sat across from you both. for the most part, the game is very calm, and might be your last game given how droopy your eyes are getting. Jiaoqiu has his cards in one hand (you can’t see them, stingy) and he’s got his other arm around your waist and rubbing shapes into your side. god you could fall asleep if it weren’t for the sound of-

“uno!” Feixiao just about hollers, waking you out of your droopy state. Moze rolls his eyes but plays a reverse, which makes Feixiao draw a few cards and you hear her mutter “mean” under her breath. Jiaoqiu chuckles at how you tensed up previously. hopefully this game won’t last much longer.

Divergent/Simulated Universe trio (The Herta, Ruan Mei, Screwllum):

can see Ruan Mei winning these types of games unintentionally.

Herta has a 50/50 shot of winning. if she doesn’t win, she takes a breather where she goes and rages (very funnily, might you add, you record her crash outs).

Screwllum doesn’t see the appeal of the game but if the three of you ask nicely, he always sits and plays with you all.

you’re sitting next to Ruan Mei and listening to Herta go on and on about how she’s going to win. Screwllum watches the chaos unfold between the four of you. Ruan Mei sips her tea and nudges you to play. you had zoned out briefly so you were thankful for the nudge.

“uno!” you said excitedly.

“oh mother f-“ Herta started before Screwllum covered her mouth. Ruan Mei sighed.

“I would appreciate no foul language in the presence of (name), madame Herta.” Screwllum said after uncovering her mouth.

“Oh i’ll show you foul language-“

Herta then proceeded to crash out over uno for the next twenty minutes, putting the game on hold. You and Ruan Mei sipped your tea and messaged each other in the meantime.

Interastral Peace Corporation (Aventurine, Topaz feat. Numby, Dr. Ratio):

I can definitely see Aventurine being awful at uno, if his luck comes from gambling, then surely his luck is ass at something he (for the most part) cannot gamble.

Topaz probably kicks ass at uno, she can get very competitive.

Ratio pretends not to care about the game, but if you in particular ask him to play with you and the crew, he scoffs before following you to play.

You and Topaz sat next to each other, mostly because Numby wanted to say hello to you. Numby sat on your lap as you watched Aventurine scramble for cards from the deck. Topaz is laughing, almost hysterically, at the amount of cards he’s collected. Dr. Ratio looks rather uninterested, but you know he’s most likely going to win. Aventurine finally draws a green card and smacks it down on the pile. You and Aventurine watch (in horror, for Aventurine) as Veritas puts a green reverse on the pile of cards and goes, “uno”.

“Doctor, are you fucking kidding me?”

Topaz wheezes and laughs even more hysterically at the sight in front of her. you laugh and watch Aventurine draw a few more cards before playing. you all came to a sudden realization: this game is NOT ending soon. something you all have come to know and enjoy, for the most part.

#winter writes #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio x reader #aventurine x reader #topaz x reader #ruan mei x reader #herta x reader #screwllum x reader #jiaoqiu x reader #moze x reader #feixiao x reader #dan heng x reader #march 7th x reader #trailblazer x reader

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seventeenreasonswhy · 1 year ago

Text

SVT reacts to your toxic ex at a party!

OT13!Seventeen with GN!Reader

Warnings/Content: SFW! Light angst, some fluff-ish/sweet comforting, but also some members choose violence!, nonconsensual advances/touching from Y/N's ex! 😠

Situation: You're at a house party with your (relatively) new partner, <SVT member>, and you unfortunately run into your toxic ex. Things didn't end smoothly, and so many awful things that you brushed off while you were together have flooded into your mind since the breakup, filling you with resentment towards them and (misplaced) anger at yourself.

But tonight, to keep the drama to a minimum, you end up putting on a brave face and avoiding your ex for most of the night. But... eventually they get really wasted and approach you while you're waiting for the bathroom by yourself...

Situation, cont.: Your annoying, drunk ex loudly complains about your breakup and how much they miss you... The whole interaction makes you uncomfortable, so you try to deescalate the situation and exit the conversation... But they drunkenly grope you!

You push them away, fully angry now, but they are persistent! After a minute, you start feeling genuinely violated. This obviously enrages and upsets you! You push the problematic ex away with more force, your night now totally derailed. Thankfully you manage to get away from them.

All you want is to leave the party, but you can't even think straight. You don't want there to be too much of a scene, so in your flustered state, you just head toward the door. But your new partner <SVT member> notices you heading out visibly upset and...

Author's Note: This is so K-drama haha! But I just love thinking about protective Seventeen lol! 🤷‍♀️

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Seungcheol

sees red. needs to find the asshole right away. he starts charging off in a blind rage, until you physically get in his path and tell him that the best thing he can do is get you outta there. he takes a second to calm down, but once he realizes that you're as upset as you are, he becomes totally focused on making sure you're ok, and his anger fizzles away. (he hates that son of a bitch tho.)

Jeonghan

gets visibly angry, which you've never seen before. he takes a sharp breath in through his nose, looking away from you for a moment and cursing your ex under his breath. He composes himself quickly though and asks if you're ready to get out of there, and you are so relieved that you cry some more. he wipes the tears from your face and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek, silently putting his arm around you and guiding you toward the door.

Jisoo

is very upset! he knows that that asshole is simply being pathetic— desperate for your attention even though they treated you like shit. what the fuck is wrong with them? these are thoughts that jisoo has the tact to keep to himself until you are in the car on the way back to his place. he'll put on a cozy movie and cuddle you until you forget all about that loser.

Junhui

is pissed! he's silent but you can feel his energy change! you quickly tell him that you want to get out of there before he has time to really process what you told him, and before you know it he's driving you to his place. it all hits him in the car and he can't stop yelling "that fucking son of a bitch!" which you find... kind of cute.

Soonyoung

is very drunk!!! haha sweet tiger loves to party. and he can't hide his true feelings when he's this drunk to save his life. he immediately yells out your ex's name, with a serious growl of "where the fuck are you?" he turns some heads, and it takes you, DK and Mingyu to hold him back from beating the shit out of this asshole. It takes a long time for him to calm down. He is screaming nasty mean shit at your ex the whole time! you feel kind of embarassed about the whole scene, but deep down you're flattered that soonyoung would get so defensive on your behalf.

Wonwoo

silent and seething. he listens as calmly as he can, gently brushing tears from your face, holding your face between his hands. he whispers to you sweetly, asking you if you want him to drive you home and you just nod and drop your forehead against his chest. he takes you in his arms and guides you out the door. in the car, he holds your hand reassuringly as he drives, letting you vent about this jackass as much as you need. in his head, he is imagining the world of pain he would inflict on this ex of yours for making you shed even a single tear!

Jihoon

wants to throw hands! but won't because he knows that that would just upset you more. he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and asks if you want to get out of there. you nod and he smoothly grabs his keys in one hand while lacing his fingers with yours in his other hand, guiding you to his car where he puts on your favorite music as you drive to his place. he doesn't pressure you to do or say anything, just gets the couch cozy and starts making you some late night snacks. (acts of service king right here).

Minghao

is very upset! actually he's disgusted by your ex's behavior. as he listens to you tell him what happened, he can tell that you're holding back tears. he hates to see you so upset! he can't help but look around the room, trying to find your ex. At the very least this asshole needs to be put in their place. but, you pull at his arm and he sees you looking so frustrated and embarrassed that he can't help but get the message. he wraps his arm around you and guides you to the door, watching you for any signal of what you want to do next.

Mingyu

he's so upset that someone would disrespect your boundaries like that! as he rubs your back comfortingly, he asks you what you want to do. stay, go for a walk and come back, or just leave? he'll do whatever you feel like doing, but you're so upset that you hesitate to decide. after a few beats, he runs a hand through your hair sweetly and makes the executive decision to take you home and get you ice cream on the way.

Seokmin

He's so angry! like seriously so mad that this person dared to touch you. he keeps his emotions (relatively) in check tho, because he doesn't want to upset you any further. he looks at you all worried, and then takes you in his arms. "I just want to go," you say tearfully into his chest. "Done," and he takes your hand and leads you to the car - opening every door, putting on good music, and making sure you don't have to even lift a finger for the rest of the night.

Seungkwan

smoke is coming out of his ears! he's seeing red and nothing but red! will choose violence before you can stop him! the other members have to pull him off of your ex! his actions don't really make you less upset, but he is so mad on your behalf that you're kind of touched? you guys talk about it more seriously once he calms down and he apologizes for losing it. "I can't believe they would do that to you," he grumbles in the car. "I know," you say, and he looks at you so lovingly despite his anger that you realize how safe you feel with him.

Vernon

kind of outraged, tbh. he can’t believe this person would do something so immature and rude. he looks at you like he is really in pain and ends up being very soft because he hates seeing you upset. he doesn’t say many words, but he holds you and whispers in your ear that it’s fine if you want to leave, he’ll take you anywhere you want.

Chan

He's so furious! he can’t hide how mad he is! but he tries to get it together because he doesn’t want you to think that he’s angry at you. he awkwardly trips over his words because he’s so worked up, but once you put a hand on his chest and tell him that you just want to leave, he practically carries you princess-style to the car.

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uki01 · 5 months ago

Note

Can you do friends to lovers headcanons for Movie! Shadow and Silver the Hedgehog! Reader?

”Just stay a little longer, won’t you?”

Movie! Shadow The Hedgehog and Silver The Hedgehog x Reader (Separately).

Author’s Note: Thanks for this request!

Warning: Mentioned of Death in Shadow’s part, Small Angst, don’t worry there’s fluff and comfort.

Movie! Shadow The Hedgehog

You were a very close friend of Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Tom and Maddie cause of Wade Whipple.

You even became a family member to them (In Sonic, Tails and Knuckles eyes at least). Maddie and Tom enjoyed you as well.

So after a few months after the whole saving the world from being destroyed, you met The Ultimate Lifeform himself, Shadow through Sonic ever since he was introduced to the Wachowski family.

At first he kept his distance and you respected his boundaries, though you did try to do small talk which Shadow lets you but never really talked back unless necessary.

But he then started talking you as well, having a full on conversation about whatever came to mind.

After that, you two become really good friends, close ones, it was pretty hard since he was a loner preferred that way but it was so worth it.

You learn about his past, of how his best friend and older sister figure, Maria died from an explosion 50 years ago. You felt so terrible for him and can understand why he went out of his way to do this.

He then asked you this.

”Y/N… do you think I’m… bad?”

You looked confused and asked him.

“What made him say that?”

”I almost got this planet terminated, I was so blinded by rage that I didn’t see the gentler and softer side of this planet, I could’ve gotten everyone killed, everyone including… you… aren’t you mad at me for almost doing a foolish thing?…”

You put some thought into it then responded with this, this what made Shadow fallen for you.

”You aren’t bad Shadow, you were just very upset for someone you loved dearly that had an unfortunate death, sure blowing up the planet was insane but.. you had your own reason, everyone has a reason to do such outrageous lengths just for their loved ones, everyone would do anything to avenge their loved ones or bring them justice. That’s what I really like about you Shadow, you would do anything to protect someone you love, everyone including me loves that in someone.”

And that’s what made Shadow fall for you.

After that night, for a good few weeks Shadow has fallen for you, but he didn’t know since he has never felt romantic feelings before so this frustrated him quite a lot.

Maddie and Sonic catches on and asks Shadow what’s wrong, Shadow tells them what’s going on and Maddie is excited and Sonic is already teasing him.

”Awww! You have a crush on Y/N that’s so cute Shadow!”

”Wow Shadow! Never took you for someone to fall for somebody but hey! Life is a surprise!”

And of course, Shadow is confused by this.

”Crush? What do you mean? I don’t want to crush Y/N I would kill them, I would never do such a thing.”

”No no Shadow! It means you have romantic feelings towards her, like you know your best friend slash older sister? It’s like that! Love but different type! You want to be a thing with her like a partner that wants to be romantically involved with her! You know what I mean?”

”I see…”

Shadow took some thought into this and then asked Maddie how does he ask you to be his girlfriend/boyfriend which made Maddie even more excited and Sonic teasing even more, he got punched by Shadow after that.

After a few months, Shadow asked you to meet on top of a hill at exactly around 4pm, which you agreed to, left you excited and confused.

Once the time hits, you immediately make your way to where Shadow said to meet. Once you made it to your location, you see Shadow with a basket, mat, drinks and candles, it was a picnic!

This made your heart do flips and smiled at the sight.

”Aww Shadow was this all for me?”

”Mhm, come, sit down, don’t want for the food to get cold.”

You giggled and made your way, you two started eating what Shadow made (from Maddie’s help), talked for a bit, even have your moments of laughter then watched the stars.

You looked over to Shadow who was fixated on the stars, then looked back up, decided to strike a conversation.

”Woah, these stars look pretty tonight, what do you think Shadow?”

”I agree, they look beautiful as ever.”

”They do.”

”Not as beautiful as you though.”

That caught you off guard as you stopped to look at him, he looks back with his stoic but soft expression.

This made your face blush a bit but giggled anyways.

”Gee, what’s gotten into your mind today?”

”You Y/N.”

”Wait, what?”

He fully turned his body towards you then sighed, getting ready for what he has to say

“Ever since Maria had… died, I thought the only way to bring justice was to destroy this planet, turns out I was wrong, there’s a lot of beautiful things on his planet that I didn’t even notice myself, you, Y/N showed me that, still treated me like how Maria did, not some… freak… you made me change my perspective on myself after our conversation one night, you’ve done a lot for me Y/N, so I want to do the same for you.”

Your face turns red, but still listened in, your heart warmed up and your soul fully touched by generous words.

”Y/N, do you want to be my boyfriend/girlfriend?”

He hands you your favourite bouquet of flowers.

Your face dropped when he asked this, this worried Shadow, thinking you were going to reject him. “Are you kidding?…”

His face slightly dropped and so did his ears, this is it, you were going to—

“YES!”

You shouted out loud with happiness, Shadow’s expression lightened up a little as he hugs you close and so did you, kissing his forehead which made him shudder a bit.

”You have no idea how happy I am my love…”

”I can only imagine honey… I love you Shadow…”

”I love you with all my heart and till the end of time, Y/N..”

And just like that, you two become a couple, Maddie was happy and squealing with joy, Sonic was teasing you and Shadow but was happy for both of you, Tails excited and congratulated you two, Knuckles was proud of Shadow for his bravery and honour, he was certainly happy for you two and Tom was proud of Shadow and applauded for you two.

You two become the most cutest couple in Green Hills, you wouldn’t changed it for the world for this happy and special moment, it was the same for Shadow, even if he didn’t show that much excitement, he was extremely happy to have you as his partner.

Silver The Hedgehog

You met Silver through Sonic when Silver was stopping by from the future.

You were pretty intrigued so you strike up a conversation with him and it was pretty awkward right off the bat since Silver lacked socials skills.

But he did talk, just awkwardly and you reassured him to take his time and as time went on you two were talking like a boat going down a stream, peacefully.

The two of you started talking more often now, with Silver always visiting you from the future, practically becoming close friends.

He explained about his future and how it’s ruined, and the process of meeting Sonic. You felt bad for the guy.

”I just… wish I was useful more before it all went terrible, why did it have to happen to my future! And I went and almost killed the wrong guy and trusted a lunatic! This was all my fault… Am I?… a terrible person?…”

You listened intently to his venting, then said this after he asked if he was a bad person (spoiler: he wasn’t), that changed you and Silver’s relationship.

”You aren’t a terrible person Silver, you were doing thought was right, to save your future, you deserve and good life Silver… a better life, an easy life, good guys like you shouldn’t be going through such tragedy, but on the brighter side, you met your friends, Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Cream, Cheese, Blaze, Rouge, Shadow… I think? Anyway! Regardless, even if bad things happen there’s always good things too, I believe in you Silver.”

And that’s what hit Silver, that moment right there, what made him fallen for you.

After that, these past few months have been stressful for Silver, but for a different reason, that reason was you.

That conversation you and Silver had, made that stutter even more when he’s around you.

Blaze noticed this right at the beginning of his crush on you, she asked Silver what’s wrong, which he respond sheepishly.

”I have this… crush on Y/N, after that conversation me and them had, my heart just did flips, but I don’t know if they likes me back.. what if they don’t like me back, what if I confessed they would feel weirded out, angry at me, confused at me or even pitying me and our friendship will never be the same! What if-“

”Silver calm yourself, I know Y/N for long enough as I’ve been here with them, they are the most nicest, considerate, confident and outgoing person ever, they would never say it like that or feel that, the worst they can say is no, and if they do you must accept that but… I think they feel the same way, they do go out of their way to make sure your comfortable and settled in properly whenever you come to visit after all.”

”Your… your right Blaze, I’m sorry for that…”

”No need to apologise Silver.”

”But, what can I do to win their heart?”

”Give them gifts, something they like, just be yourself, they like honesty, and frankly you are the first person they would be around anyways, shouldn’t be too hard considering you two are close.”

”Okay, thanks Blaze..”

”Anytime Silver.”

After that pep talk from Blaze and few months passing by, Silver asked you to meet up where the two first met each other which you agreed too immediately, that got his muzzle blushing red.

Soon as you two met up, you just had a look around, remembering of how you two met, then Silver for the first time, starts the conversation.

”Do you remember the first time we met?”

”How could I forget, for guy that has terrifying powers, you sure stutter a lot, not that it’s bad it’s cute actually heheh.”

Silver’s face blushes from embarrassment and love too, he clears his throat.

”Yeah, just like you said, life sure has its surprises.”

”Mhm, but I gotta ask, why did you bring me here?”

”To… give you this.”

He pulls out a gift for you, which you happily accept and open the gift, to see a bracelet that had your name on it and your favourite colours.

”Oh, Silver…”

”I had some help from Amy, Cream & Cheese when making them, I hope you like it.”

”Like it? I love it!”

That made Silver smile, your smile. As you put it on you wore it proudly, which made Silver’s heart beat twice as faster than it was before.

He took a deep breath and looked at you in the eyes.

”Y/N, you are one of the most important people in my life, ever since I’ve met you, you’ve made me feel like I belonged here, always making sure I was comfortable, safe, healthy and happy, but what made me happier was you. You just being there, even if you weren’t doing anything, you just being there with me made me feel so happier and loved, you’ve done so much for me, now I want to do the same for you.”

He hands you a bouquet of flowers, your favourite ones too.

”Y/N, do you want to be my partner?”

You were shocked at this, he didn’t even stutter, fiddled his fingers, none of that, however Silver thinks your probably judging right now.

”Are you serious?…”

Oh no, he knew it was happening, you are going to-

“OF COURSE I WILL!”

Those four words just made Silver’s day, he swooped you up in his arms as you held the bouquet happily laughing together while hugging.

”Gotta say Silver, I am impressed at what you said, you didn’t stutter a single word.”

”Well, I wanted this to be perfect, so I practiced, just for you.”

”Awww, Silver, you just being here is already perfect enough for me.”

”Thank you Y/N.”

”Of course, I love you Silver.”

”I love you too, sweetheart.”

And that marks the day you two were a couple.

Blaze, Knuckles and Tails was happy for you both and congratulated you two, Amy and Cream & Cheese were cheering and excited, basically about to burst a bubble, Sonic and Rouge was teasing you two but was genuinely happy for both of you, Shadow didn’t care… but he was genuinely happy that you two found love.

You we’re enjoying every moment with Silver and wouldn’t want to change any of this, so did Silver, he would tear time itself just to see your beautiful face, your pretty eyes, gorgeous smile and everything else apart of you that makes you, you.

Author’s Note: This was so much fun to write! Took me long but it was worth it! Thank you so much for the request!

(This gif will never NOT be funny to me).

#shadow the hedgehog x reader #silver the hedgehog x reader #movie shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog #silver the hedgehog #shadow x reader #silver x reader #shadow fanfic #silver fanfic #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic fandom

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moonastrogirl · 2 years ago

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💘 Some important tips for each Nakshatra : Never to Do Tips 💘

DISCLAIMER The author name is at the end. I do not remember where I found it unfortunately (it was in my notes app for months fr 😭) tho I know I am supposed to share my knowledge as much as I can and not be a gatekeeper so here it is . I hope it will help you (if you know the author let me know too with the name down below) 💜

Ashwini : Never loose an opportunity to help people in your life, you will meet and learn some very important techniques from a reputed and respected person.

Bharani : Do not share your secrets with anyone. Self control is must.

Krittika : Stand by Truth. Do not entertain, liars, fakers or cheaters or not even try to possess those traits.

Rohini : Don't get too much attached with anything, attachment will cause havoc.

Mrigashira : Do not get disconnected with your parents or family.

Ardra : Learn to work under distractions and pressure. Stay calm in chaos.

Punarvasu : Never disobey Dharma (purpose), always stick to your commitments, you get divine support of universe.

Pushya : Do not ignore your family or your dear one needs while handling bigger responsibilities or social cause. Take out time for them.

Ashlesha : Never misuse your power & Never Curse anyone.

Magha : Never ignore your Pitris (your ancestors). Always do charity in their names.

Purva Phalguni : Avoid getting too much indulgent in pleasures, do your duty faithfully.

Uttara Phalguni : Never break your relationship & Be Kartavya Prayan (loyal).

Hasta : Never get carried away with failure, that's ladder of success for you.

Chitra : Never doubt your potential & don't act impulsive, else you will end up hurting with self.

Swati : Do not poke powerful authorities. Try to stay away from leg pulling.

Vishaka : Never leave the Marg of Bhakti (total faith and devotion) & Keep remembering Bhagwan (the Most High/God).

Anuradha: Never get distracted with too much darkness, sooner or later it's worth experiencing.

Jyeshta : Never misuse your authorities & power, one single mistake can ruin everything.

Mula : Don't get panic, when burdened with lots of negativity, that's the process of bringing clarity, like storm before calm.

Purva Ashadha : Not every war is to win, some are supposed to lift you up. In both victory or defeat you gonna be the same.

Uttara Ashadha : Following Dharma (career/purpose) is right but having a superiority complex can harm you in longer run.

Shravana : Tied up with lots of responsibilities & helplessness, we are born to live or die for a divine purpose, just give your best.

Dhanishta : Never boast or avoid beating the drum of success before its completion.

Shatabhisha : Never sell your soul for gains and profit. Things will turn negative for you.

Purva Bhadrapada : Never rush into conclusion cause what looks on the surface might not be real, try to see deep within. There lies solution.

Uttara Bhadrapada : Simplicity beautifies you, wear it and own it.

Revati : You are the Messenger of God & Bhakt (faith/worship/love). Showing path to directionless people is your real gem. Never sell superstition or blind faiths.

Author :

Mann ki Baat Trishna

Note from the author : Above points are just an observation with my best of understanding.

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charlestrask · 1 month ago

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Do you have any oasis fic recs? I really want to read the bean bag one if you have it

ive been asked for fic recs before and never done it because it seemed like too much work so im finally doing it and there will be a lot.

ive read pretty much every fic in the oasis tag and i have 302 of them bookmarked because im crazy. so this isnt everything ive enjoyed in the oasis fic world but it is a good selection of my favorites. and im sure theres plenty i love but ive forgotten to include. it can also be taken as a general truth that any of the authors listed in here i probably enjoy and would recommend all of their works

so first of all we have the all time Must Reads:

World That's Been and Gone series by Storyshark2005. this is the definitive oasis fic. if you only ever read 1 thing make it this series.

Untitled by DeathandCannibalism (our beloved rye). essential noel fic. beautiful and heartbreaking. mind content warnings because it is very heavy but im assuming if you're in this fandom you probably know how to navigate yourself.

non-au fics (in no particular order):

D'YA WANT SOME? series by matewan

Make a Killing by Savageandwise

Burning Matches by Savageandwise (unfortunately unfinished)

my soul slides away by lustmord

Fishhook by TeaandLiquor (porn for the liam whump enjoyer)

To See It by DeathandCannibalism (liams shining 🥰)

Ride in the Whirlwind by matewan (bhn recording sessions. unfinished)

Double Fantasy by OrADayOfFame

outta sight and outta mind by lustmord

you never notice you are blind by mansgotalimit

A Cause Without A Name by OrADayOfFame

(And) All That I Want From You aka the desert bus fic by Fishfucker

Rejection Theory by DeathandCannibalism

What's My Prize? by joelisms (porn)

Maybe/Definitely by dornfelder

Closer than Far Out by OrADayOfFame

The Radio Star by hapaxlegomena (the beanbag fic)

All My Dreams Are You by dornfelder

At the Magic Moment by MyNameIsDanae (noel bday fic)

Estrangement by Fishfucker

A summer's tale by butchdean

Thoughts of Going Under by OrADayOfFame

low place like home by lustmord

listen, do you want to know a secret? by MyNameIsDanae

Now You're Outside Me by RedheadAmongWolves

Things We Never See by Jeevey

Exhale by cancellable

If Ever You Find Me by OrADayOfFame

My Sister Lover by DeathandCannibalism

We'll Find a Way to Do What We've Done by Jeevey and Savageandwise

Fault by cancellable (porn)

Flying High by DeathandCannibalism (porn)

Gaining Traction by AliceSweetAlice

Helter Skelter by OrADayOfFame

moult by mainpopgirl

All of the Stars by OrADayOfFame

To These Ends Of Separation by DeathandCannibalism

Contradictions by dornfelder

A Quiet, Melancholy Sort of Sunny Afternoon by Lizz_88

Come On Baby Blue (Shake Up Your Tired Eyes) by DeathandCannibalism

everything in faith in you is gonna set me free by MyNameIsDanae

you and me see how we are by mansgotalimit

aus i love:

myself, but from the outside by joelisms (soulmate au)

Here's Looking At You, Kid by RedheadAmongWolves (liam works as a bartender, noel brings dates to his bar)

Ground by cancellable (dreamsharing au)

Forthright by cancellable (noel travels back in time. unfortunately unfinished)

better get on your knees and pray by mansgotalimit (priest noel au)

Me But All You by RedheadAmongWolves (pacific rim au)

little by little by trill_gutterbug (noel gets shrunk. mostly porn)

Kenet by matewan (dragon!liam au)

an altar of sorts by mainpopgirl (boxing au)

Married With Children by OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed (bachelor au, silly, unfinished)

time's slipping away (and what will it hold for me?) by mansgotalimit (liam travels forward in time, unfinished)

im not usually inclined towards omegaverse or mpreg fics but these ones i like:

hold me down all the world's asleep by trill_gutterbug

let me fly you to the moon by trill_gutterbug

The Swing of the Planets in Orbit by Snickfic

bun in the oven ♨️ maybe by joelisms

im also gonna single out genderswaps because we dont have nearly enough.

the Star-shaped series by Savageandwise (girl!liam)

Romantic, not disgusting yet by calzinospaiato (both girls) (the watersports one)

The Things That Sleep Inside by grilledcheesefaction (girl!liam, ongoing series)

Bleed, Trip, Gloss, and Red by cancellable (both girls)

Trickle by cancellable (girl!liam)

She's standing outside and she's my next of kin by butchdean (both girls)

Deviant Peace by DeathandCannibalism (both girls)

#ive just put ao3 names instead of tagging anyone on here bc im not sure who wants to be publicly associated w their ao3 and who doesn't..#but if anyone wants me 2 tag their tumblr instead lmk.#ask #anon #*

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charliedawn · 7 months ago

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Hi! Can I ask for a fic where the slashers have a reader nurse that acts like Kagaya Ubayashiki (from demon slayer) like there calm demeanour and there gentle and fluid manner of speaking.

They can handle criticism and honest about there weakness. The slashers manage to witness how the curse or illness spread to nurse reader each and every day.

The slashers reacting when finding out the real truth of there illness by eavesdropping to there conversation and admitting that they are slowing dying but still wanted to keep working and taking care of them because they care and love the slashers. Nurse reader still keeps working while now being blind and reassuring the slashers they still can handle it.

How would the slashers do now when they found out the truth of there sickness and nurse reader being blind. And nurse reader dies peacefully in there sleep while holding one of the slashers or Norman hand (like trying reassuring or comforting them that they won’t leave or there still here even tho they die) and smile in there sleep. How would there slashers react to nurse reader dying peacefully.

Btw I love your fics there both funny and amazing to read and entertaining I hope your doing well there Author take care 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Bubba noticed the first time you came into his cell and didn’t flinch at his appearance. Let’s be honest here, Bubba is a big guy and everyone who sees his very peculiar mask would at least be a little surprised.

But, you simply sat there—unbothered.

You were calm and even smiled at him. The fact that you were sick didn’t seem to actually matter at first since he didn’t care about you. You were just another nurse…

But then, you weren’t anymore. You started becoming the one who made it possible for his family to visit, who took care of him when he was hurt, who read him and the other slashers stories at night…He started caring because you cared.

And when it was time to say goodbye ? Bubba wasn’t ready. He knelt at your bedside and took your hand between his—crying and shaking as he begged you to stay.

"…My poor little lamb. I can already see the black veils of death surrounding you. Slashers can feel Her. Death. And She is holding tight to your heart, dear child."

Hannibal Sr. is very perceptive. He knew from the start, he could smell Her. She was following you around and Hannibal Sr. knew that there was nothing to be done.

You were his favourite nurse. You were the one who gave his children’s gifts to him and who had never once flinched in his presence. He respected you…

When the time came, he took your hand and kissed the back of it.

"…Unfortunate child. Know that whatever time you spent on this Earth, you were good."

When you gave out your final breath, Hannibal Sr. closed his eyes and sighed. Such a shame…

Pennywise was at your door every night. He had tried to heal you—many times. But, his healing powers didn’t work on curses.

Hence, he thought that maybe by standing in front of your door every night, he could spook Death away.

"Not them…Not them..." He repeated over and over—hoping She would hear him. Or that Maturin would save you.

He begged and begged—him who had sworn to never beg for anything ever again—was now begging for your life. A human. A nothing…But if he was to save one person—it would be you.

When he knew there was no other way, he stayed by your side. He didn’t cry, but he held your hand and made jokes all night until he knew there was no laughter left in you. You were gone…

How dared you ? He was death. He was the boogeyman. You had no right to die. He hadn’t allowed it yet.

Michael stayed by your bed side, and you didn’t need your eyes to know that he was worried and didn’t want to leave you—afraid that if he was to close his eyes for even a second…you would disappear forever.

"Michael…It’s okay." You tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen to you. He started crying when he felt that death was inevitable and he held your hand in his.

You smiled at him.

"…I am glad…I got to meet you, Michael. You and everyone else."

Michael’s hand tightened around yours and he decided to get the mask off. Letting you see his face, knowing it wouldn’t change anything and then he whispered.

"…I…am…glad…too."

And then, your eyes slowly closed and Michael shivered as he felt your soul depart from your body. He stayed there hours later—holding your hand.

Freddy came the night he knew you were going to die. He wordlessly sat beside you and you felt him. You smiled.

"…Hi, Freddy."

Freddy was uncharacteristically silent. He looked at you and finally whispered.

"It is…tonight, Y/N."

You nodded.

"I know."

Freddy hesitated before taking your hand.

"…Are you scared ?"

You smiled.

"No. Not anymore…Not when I have a friend with me."

Freddy tried not to cry, but he couldn’t help himself. He sighed and replied with a broken voice.

"…I wish you were an asshole like me, ‘cause at least I’d be sure to see you in hell. But…I know this is goodbye and…I guess the only thing I can do is make sure you get the best sleep of your life tonight."

He put his hand on your eyes and you felt yourself fall into a dream…

You smiled.

"…Good night, Freddy."

He smiled back, even though his hand was shaking.

"…Good night, sweetheart."

"Hum…What do you mean you’re dying ?"

Eddie was taken aback at the news. He stared at you in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head.

"You can’t. That’s not…no. Come on. No." He had tears in his eyes as he took your hands in his and begged you to stay.

He had gotten used to you. You were the only one who knew who he really was. He cried next to your bedside and once you had left this world—he kissed the back of your hand.

"See you soon…Y/N."

Norman stayed awake for days-on-end to stay with you as much as possible. He cooked your favourite food, he played your favourite games and read your favourite books. He thought it would help once the time came. But, it didn’t. It was still so painful to watch when he saw how hard it was for you. He had to see you slowly lose your sight and lock yourself up in your room the days before the inevitable moment of death…

Norman *kisses your hand* : "…If I could die instead of you…I wouldn’t even hesitate to give you my life."

You kept working as a nurse for the slashers, providing for them and making sure that everything would run smoothly once you were gone.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #slashers #pennywise x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #hannibal sr.#hannibal x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #ghostface eddie munson #ghostface x reader #norman bates x reader

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dzvelinaskebiyars · 6 months ago

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Hajun's/Joker's analysis

(This is more like a rant tbh)

I don't see lot of people talking about Hajun, whereas I think he's fascinating character and even though there's a lot we don't know about him, he's written enough for me to rant and analyse about.

Hajun, a.k.a Joker, is a character in Windbreaker webtoon written by Yongseok Jo. He's part of Sabbath crew, which plays antagonistic role in the story. Joker's moral compass can be confusing at first because he's illegally making money, but he's also well-intented person. He has taken the role of caregiver and provider for his brothers and he seems to give everything he has to live up to that role. However, the money he's making is from underground and illegal boxing, where people bet money who's gonna win and who's gonna lose. I believe fight clubs are popular outside of this manhwa so, I'm sure you all understand what I mean. It's been shown that Hajun enjoys fights and he's fascinated by mma & martial arts, but boxing is what he has taken biggest interest in. He tends to get excited whenever he meets strong opponent (like how he immediately started a fight with Owen, who's supposedly cyclist genius) and immediately asks for a fight, whether politely or not. He never misses a chance to get into fight, not for money but because he genuinely likes fighting strong opponents. He has quick reflexes and can easily block random and sudden attacks, he's also a guy who starts throwing punches before others can even blink. Can he act impulsive? Yes. Is he a bad person? No. And I'm going to explain why.

Firstly, his little brother HATES that Hajun is making money by beating people up, hence he, himself, starts working and denies his education. Hajun, as a big brother, of course can't turn blind eye to it and hence approaches his brother about it more than once. Upon hearing what his little brother said in part 3 of Windbreaker, Joker decided to change his ways of making money so his little brother wouldn't have to work so hard especially at construction site, which is very dangerous for a kid.

Mind you, it's not easy for Hajun either because as I said, he truly enjoys fighting and he needs to make money as soon as he can but there's very little he can do without professional career or guardian. It's not only money as well, he's cooking for them, handling their healthcare and etc. He's trying his best to be emotionally available for them as well and makes sure to hear them out and be understanding in his own ways.

Aside from being caregiver to his brothers, he's a person who values fairness. He refused to against Dom Kang when it was two on one because he considered it to be unfair, he doesn't pick on weaker opponents because he knows it'd be unfair - like how he refused to block Shelly because she wasn't good at physical fights and he didn't want to injure her. But he went against his own morals few times in order to gain money, like helping Wooin with drug dealing just because Sangho gave them money.(Or maybe he thinks it's alright as long as he gets money out of it) However, Joker himself never doped and achieved everything by his own strength and skills.

His morals might be little questionable at some point but he's truly well-intented man. He even stopped cycling in the middle of race, despite being close to finish line, to save the injured puppy and go to the vet afterwards. He seems to be very responsible person as well, as he took the puppy under his care, provided for it and always made sure puppy was with him and safe. Once, he also stopped at the red light during the cycling race when he didn't have to.

He's quite hardworker as well, acknowledges his weakness and trains to improve himself. He's quite motivated character and has sportsmanship whatsoever. Author is portraying him as tough on outside, soft on the inside type of guy in the series. But again, there's more to his character that has to be explored but we're lacking information, unfortunately. A really good trait of his is that he's not changing his values and morals for someone, no matter what kind of situation he really is in. He has his priorities set straight and follows it with undying loyalty.

Tag list: @shintaru

#joker windbreaker #joker windbreaker analysis #windbreaker webtoon #windbreaker manhwa #sabbath crew

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wallofchynax · 5 months ago

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THE WORST POSSIBLE TIME (ONESHOT)

Synopsis: You're being interviewed about your match at the upcoming Summerslam. You are trying to be professional about it despite your 'friend' (hint; he's very much more than your friend) Shawn having other plans with you under the table.

Ships: 90s!Shawn Michaels x Reader

Authors note: this is very much inspired by that rumor of Shawn fingering Sunny during a interview (you can find it on youtube if you are curious). This is just a small dablet because I cannot update any of my other stories till next week so I wanted to put something up in the meantime hehe.

You're sitting in a chair under the blinding studio lights, sitting across the interviewer, Mean Gene. The backdrop is plastered with advertisments and the upcoming Summerslan. You could hear the crowd roaring outsitde of the studio. This was the night before Summerslam after all. You were excited; a chance to go against the current woman's champion and get the belt.

This should have been a good interview. This should have set you up well for tomorrow night. Unfortunately, you were shifting in your chair, trying to remain composure but it was difficult.

He insisted he stood would be next to you. After all, you both were in a storyline together and were adored by the crowd. You always told people that you and him were best friends. However, Shawn Michaels, he had no sense of professionalism. You both told everyone you were nothing more than best friends. And to an extent, that was true, you were best friends.

But best friends shouldn't be making it this hard for you to focus.

You didn't know if it was the substances that were probably in his system or the overconfidence that he often showed when in front of the camera. Anyway, you can see him at the corner of your eye with that lazy smirk on his lips and an arm slung casually behind your seat as if he doesn't have a care in the world.

You, on the other hand, were trying to talk about your big match. Your moment at a title shot. However, you knew that Shawn was up to no good. Because when his arm that was slung around your chair was removed, you knew you he was scheming something. Despite the fact that this interview should have been about your determination and your preparation, the hours of training that you had put into this point His arm moving should have been the first sign of trouble.

Mean Gene, ever the professional, nodded as you spoke, tilting the microphone in your direction.

"This match is everything to me, Gene. I worked my ass off for the shot, and tomorrow night, I-"

Your breath hitched.

In that moment, Shawn's hand found your thigh out of sight from the camera.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly in your chair, "-and I...I plan on giving the performance of a lifetime..."

The corners of Shawn's lips twtiched. He knew. He knew damn well that you couldn't react to what he was doing. You had to sit there and talk about your title shot like nothing was going on. Like his hands weren't trailing under the hem of your shorts.

Your fingers clenched into fists in your lap.

You couldn't look at him.

Gene raised an eyebrow, "Are you alright?"

You opened your mouth as if you wanted to speak. However, Shawn ended up speaking for you as he leaned forward. You could feel his hand under your shorts, stroking the front of your underwear. You already knew that your panties were going to be soaked.

"She's great, she's just dealing with a little bit of pre-match excitement, you know. All that adrenaline, all that passion - it just gets a little overwhelming sometimes,"

You turned your head, only just slightly, enough for your eyes to meet his. The warning glare that you gave him was completely ignored. If anything, he just winked at you in response.

And then he started rubbing circles on your clit through your panties.

Gene, bless him, was just trying to get you to talk about your strategy, the level of competition and the current woman's division. And you tried, you tried so hard to give him answers that the fans would like but everytime you spoke, Shawn's fingers were slow, teasing and deliberate.

He was enjoying this.

You were going to murder him after this.

"But tomorrow, when I step into that ring, I know I will have everything to prove, but I-"

And that's when you felt it. His fingers moved from your clit and were now teasing at your entrance. You nearly slapped the table when he suddenly pushed two fingers inside.

"-I won't be distracted," You nearly squeaked out, forcing yourself not to react to the way Shawn's hand moved.

Gene gave you another look and then a cough, "Are you...sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine!" You said, almost too defensivelly

You inhaled sharply, exhaled through your nose, and forced your voice into something steady.

“I’ve been training non-stop for this, Gene. I know what’s at stake. I know my opponent is one of the best to ever hold that belt,” you said, keeping your gaze fixed on the interviewer, not the smirking devil sitting beside you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when Shawn chuckled next to you, leaning in a little, "My girl here is just incredibly excited about her match tomorrow, aren't you?"

You hated him. You were ready to murder him after this. Your patience was slipping, your nails digging into your palm to keep yourself from reacting.

“But I’m not walking into that ring to hope for a win—I’m walking in to take that title for myself.”

Shawn's hand lifted, just for a second. You felt relief wash over you but it was quickly met with a third finger being inserted.

You turned to him, flush faced and not even bothering to hide your annoyance.

"Do you mind?"

Shawn grinned like the devil himself.

"Not at all,"

Your glare could have killed him.

Gene cleared his throat, "Well, you certainly seem fired up for the match. Any final words for your opponent?"

Final statment. It was the moment to prove her determination. Get it together.

You turned towards the camera, eyes burning with conviction.

"I hope you're watching," you said, voice steady, now despite everything, "Because tomorrow night, when I step into the ring, I'm not just bringing a fight, I'm bringing a war,"

Shawn chose that exact moment to brush the pads of his fingers into your sweet spot.

You nearly jerked. You nearly elbowed him.

Gene smiled, clearly satisfied with your response, "Well, there you have it folks. Tomorrow night, Summerslam. Will we see a new Women's Champion crowned? We will soon find out soon enough!"

The camera's flickered off. The second it did, Shawn removed his fingers from your cunt. When he did, you turned your head and glared at him like your eyes could turn holes into his soul.

He just grinned.

"Do you think you're funny?" you hissed.

Shawn stretched in his chair, completely unbothered, "I know I am,"

Your fingers twitched. You were seconds away from smacking that smug look off his face.

Instead, you stood abruptly, shoving your chair back, "You better pray I don't get my hands on you before tomorrow night,"

Shawn leaned back like you were threatening him with a good time, "Oh princess, I know how much you like a pre-match stretch,"

You stormed off, head rising to your face but not before you heard him laughing behind you.

He was going to pay for that.

Tomorrow night.

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwf #wwf fanfiction #90s wrestling #90s wrestling fanfiction #shawn michaels x oc #wwe imagine #wwe x oc #wwe x reader #shawn michaels #hbk #shawn michaels x reader

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yaut-jaknowit · 1 year ago

Note

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

Yautja Captain is jealous when his second in command starts spending time with the Dr of the transport ship instead of with him.

Jealousy Is A Great Motivator

Pairing: Zageiadp (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2901

Summary: Between the captain and healer on board the transport ship you run with, you are their main concern. Zage despises the way E'ki growing nearer. The healer needs to stay away from his second in command.

Author Note: When I saw this pop in my inbox, I got super excited! I love jealousy. I didn’t know if you wanted it smutty but I have an idea: when E’ki comes back one time, he finds the two in the Zageiadp’s chair. They are facing the door while Zageiadp rails the shit out of them. Zageiadp makes eye contact. That’s all that’s needed: he won

Masterlist

Ao3

Graceful steps lead the lumbering Zageiadp to the front of the ship. The hallway leading to the cockpit barren and empty from life. Yet, there’s a scent he’s growing to despise with every bit o f his very being. A snarl echoing from the back of his throat before the cockpit doors slid open. His hands curled into fists at the sight revealed to him.

If only he could throw down the damn E’ki out of the nearest hatch. But, unfortunately, he’s needing for emergencies and accidents. The Zageiadp snapped his mandibles shut to prevent any foul words from escaping and sounding to the one person he’d never want to hurt.

One of the only oomans on this ship sat seated in a chair not designed for such a small creature. A look of intrigue alit in your eyes. One he wanted directed at him rather than the sea blue Yautja consuming your attention. You should be gazing at him, greeting him as he takes over your duties. Yet, E’ki is chittering your ear off.

His fangs scrapped against one another. Harsh words desperately crawled at his throat. Words you didn’t need to hear as he directed them at E’ki. He couldn’t believe it. This was fourth time this week alone he’s come to stink up the place. Any Yautja could smell the pheromones. Yet, you, as a ooman, were nose blind to what was happening right in front of you.

From your comfortable seat too big for you, you spotted out of the corner of your eye the familiar form of the captain. A soft smile graced your features, careful not to expose your teeth to any of them. You twisted in your seat and waved at him. “Right on time, Zage!” you teased the yellow based Yautja who looked tense.

After working side-by-side for a couple of years, you’ve learned his gait, his stance, his sitting position. When you’re confined to the same room for the same duration, you learn a lot about him. Possibly, he just slept wrong and didn’t want to be bothered.

Zageiadp grunted and dipped his at you. His quiet, bare feet carried him over to your side of the console. The heat his broad body created sent waves of warmth over you. You nearly leaned towards him in reaction but paused the action. That would be weird. Instead, you tilted your head up to find him gazing down at you.

“Anything to report?” he questioned and saddled up behind you. His thick arms rested on the back of your chair. His dark eyes moved to E’ki with an unknown emotion swirling inside of them. You tilted your head slightly but didn’t get an answer from him. Not that he says much in the first place.

You shook your head. “Nope,” you popped the ‘p’. “All’s well in here, Zage!” Zageiadp grunted while his gaze was kept on the sea blue Yautja in front of you. One of his massive hands dropped onto your shoulder and gaze a small squeeze. You appreciate the touch, knowing he has your back.

E’ki’s eyes narrowed. The blue darkening with a subtle glare. One not directed at you. Then, he quirked an upper mandible up and called your name with a chuff. “Would you like to come to my room after your shift? I know how tiring this job can be. I would like to ease any of your troubles,” he offered with a friendly expression.

Your face brightened with a smile. “Oh, y-“ The hand on your shoulder tensed up and pulled you flush against the back of your chair. An ‘oof’ escaped you. Both of you hands grasped the armrest for support.

“No, they won’t be,” Zageiadp bites at the offending male in his presence. His hold on you is firm and demanding. There’s not a chance in the universe he was going to let this healer take you from underneath his fangs. “They’ll be too busy with me.”

This had you confused. Zageiadp hadn’t talked to you about any dealings after your shift was up. There was no plans he had schedule. Your face twisted, brows furrowing, as you tilted your head back to peer up at the yellow Yautja. You go to lean up but his hold is sturdy despite his attention focused on the other Yautja in the room.

“Well wait a-“ His hand moved to your mouth and officially silenced you. It easily covered the lower half of your face.

“We need to run diagnostics,” Zageiadp explains with a loud growl added to rumbly voice. “And that’ll take all night. They’ll be far too tired to even get out bed in the morning.” E’ki’s fists curled, claws biting into the tough flesh of his palm. His mandibles snapped against one another as he stared down the opposing male who was laying claim over you.

E’ki huffed then stood taller, issuing his dominance in the moment. One Zageiadp returned to his full height, dark eyes solely on the healer. “That’s no problem,” the sea blue Yautja bit out and rolled his shoulders. “Why not tomorrow night? Or will they be busy too?” The words themselves weren’t mean but the tone was full of anger.

This time, Zageiadp’s mandibles curled into a vicious smile. “Very, very busy,” he answered in return and let his hand slip off of your mouth.

You could barely breath in the tension filled room. These two were having a dominance battle thingy going on. The time you’ve been around the Yautja species has educated you about their culture. Dominance and mating. Always need to be the biggest and baddest wolf on the block. You spin in your chair on your knees and gaze up at Zageiadp.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” you questioned in hopes to ease up the two forces battling each other silently. You’d rather not be stuck in the middle of two raging males. There’s been plenty of times you’ve seen when Yautjas duke it out. This transport ship is small. Disagreements happen. Fights occur. It’s never a pretty sight at the end of the day.

His dark eyes flicker down at you for only a moment. The coarseness of his fingertips caress against your chin. The softness in your orbs nearly kills him. Yet, that makes this fight all the more worth it.

“Maintenance. Learning,” are his gruff answers. Then, Zageiadp’s attention is returned to the offender at hand. His tough refuses to leave the softness of your skin. “Can never stop learning.” You nodded along, agreeing with his words. He was right. Even an old dog can be taught new tricks.

“Why that is true,” E’ki snarked with tense mandibles. His fists twitch with the need to deck Zageiadp straight in the face to get his hands off of you. It was his scent that needed to be rubbed into your plush flesh. Not the damn Zageiadp.

The glare Zageiadp held darkened, fingers pinching your chin harder. “You’re not allowed up in the cockpit too. Unless it’s an emergency. Which, chatting is not.”

Now, that got you furrowing your brows. Despite his firm grasp on you, you sat up straighter and frowned at Zageiadp. “Yes, he is! As your second in command, I allow him access up here. He’s not doing any harm talking to me,” you countered and crossed your arms. Even up on your knees in the chair didn’t offer you much of added height. You barely reached his collar bones.

Zageiadp’s eyes returned to your fiery form defying him. The heat they once held vanished, never to directed at you. Instead, he nonchalantly stared down at you, admiring the fire that blazed to life your eyes. He relaxed and leaned onto the back of your chair.

Both of your faces were near one another. “As the Zageiadp, first in command, of this vessel, I deny him access to the cockpit. He does not belong here. His place is the medical bay.” Your jaw dropped. You couldn’t believe he was doing this! This was completely unfair. It’s not like there’s much to do when he’s not up here.

“Zage! You can’t do that,” you whined, saddened and angered all at the same time he was deny you someone to chat with. All the stories E’ki has shared with you. Unless you were not stuck in here for most of your day, you wouldn’t be able to listen to them.

He moved so his face was closer to you while towering over you. This forced your head to tilt even further back, straining your neck. “Yes, I can.” A calmly stated fact. His attention drew to the speckles that flaked in your eyes. He could stay here and watch them glitter forever.

Your gaze narrowed again. “Why? Can’t I not talk with a friend of mine?” Heat flashed down his spine, an uncomfortable feeling at your words. He did not want to isolate you. No, you are free to be your own person. But he didn’t want E’ki to get any ideas and courting for your hand before he had the perfect gift for you.

Worst of all, he knew you wouldn’t completely understand what a courting gift was. Not when you freely give any Yautja on the ship something. They know better but it’s you who doesn’t.

When gifts you what you deserve, he’ll explain it to you. Then, you get to decide if he’s worthy of your time and heart.

Until then, he’ll fight of this damn healer with every bicker and bite. As much as he would love to challenge the male to a brutal fight in front of you, he knew the consequences. Oomans didn’t understand it was part of their nature. The last thing he wanted was to freak you out. Then, you could possibly leave him and the ship forever. To find a new crew to work with.

Zageiadp never snarled at the dark thought and refocused his mind on the issue at hand. At the worst time possible.

E’ki leans forward with a smug look and hovers his mouth next to your ear. His warmth breath ghosts over the shell of your ear. You couldn’t help the shutter that ran down the length of your spine. A giggle pouring from your lips.

“I’ll see you later, little ooman,” he huskily whispered into your ear. One of his mandibles brushing against your ear when he pulls away. You couldn’t help the gasp that left your supple lips.

All the talking, the close proximity he could bare. Yet, to touch you like that, make you sound like that. Zageiadp saw red. A bellow exploded from his chest. His hand flew faster than anyone could react. It struck E’ki’s shoulder and send him reeling backwards into the console.

A challenge had been issued.

The sea blue Yautja whipped his head up. All of his contained tressed slapping harshly against his back. A roar echoed through the cockpit from both deadly forces. There you were, caught in the middle. You gapped at the fighting ensuring, unable to scramble from your chair. Not that either of them in a blind rage would ever hurt you.

Fists and claws soared through the air before you could register them. Zageiadp had rushed around the chair to push straight in E’ki’s space. Not allowing the Yautja to have time to collect himself.

You coward in your co-Zageiadp chair, knees pulled up into your chest. All you could do was watch for this battle of dominance to finish.

A well-placed kick to E’ki sent the male flying back. Zageiadp didn’t stop. The jealousy filled his veins with fire. His scales burned with a need to ensure this fool didn’t make the same mistake twice. It was like it was coded into his very DNA.

His opponent is able to block and dodge about every strike he send his way. It only angers him more. His mind clouded.

Despite the area of the cockpit wasn’t the largest space on the ship, neither them inched their way close to the little ooman. Their minds were zoned in on besting the other. At the same time, they always had a thought on you. Never letting you leave their mind for even a second. Not wanting to risk your safety.

Claws dug into the thick muscles of Zageiadp’s shoulder. Blood drew to the surface in an instant. A snarl came from the yellow Yautja’s throat. He twisted out of the way of a kick and grabbed the offending leg. Zageiadp exerted his strength to knock the healer off of his sole foot. The Yautja came tumbling down yet was swiftly to roll out of the way of fist that dented the floor.

The strength of Zageiadp shocked you, his durability as well. To keep fighting after bending metal like he had done.

The yellow Yautja bellowed a roar. E’ki returned the call. Both of them met in the middle with fists thrown harshly at another.

When yellow crashed into blue, you slapped a hand over your mouth. E’ki was knocked backwards and stumbled over his feet. Then, his heel caught on air and sent him crashing onto the floor. Zageiadp flared his arms out with a roar that echoed inside your brain.

His dark eyes watched the fallen Yautja for a few long seconds before the challenge had ended. A huff deflated his sweaty chest.

Zageiadp snapped his head over at you and began to march straight towards you. A yelp passed your lips when his sudden attention was directed at you. Your head whipped side to side for way to escape the heat of Zageiadp’s gaze. It was far too late.

Veiny, bleeding hands captured each armrest. Yellow entered your vision, taking up everything. Heavy pants fanned over your features, blowing strands of hair out of your face. The Yautja consuming your very sight leaned further into your space.

Heat radiated off of him. Zageiadp leaned down to crowd further into the little space you had in the first place. Without thinking, you turned your head to the side and exposed your bare throat to him. His eyes immediately narrowed at the flesh you accidentally offered to him. He let loose a deep, rumbling purr.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Your scent filled his senses. His eyes slid shut while he embraced it. The purr that filled the air continued to rumble away.

One of his hands reached up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your cheek bone. This wasn’t someone you should be afraid of. Your muscles began to loosen up, legs spilling over the edge of the chair. Your eyes fluttered open. He sensed it before pulling away and opening his own. His scent is already being rubbed into your skin. A warning. A threat. To anyone who dares touch what is his.

“My ooman,” he grumbled into the tense air and rested his forehead against yours.

Your heart is beating nearly out of your chest, thundering so loudly he could probably hear it himself. “I-uh… That, that was impressive,” you praised timidly, unsure it was proper to do that. His purr deepened. His hand drifted to your hair and gripped the strands.

Besides that, you didn’t know what to do or say. If it was even proper. He was… dangerous. But not to you. Not the way he continuously placed himself between you and E’ki. Not that E’ki would harm you either. Zageiadp was extremely protective…

Shit. He was jealous!

The realization struck you hard and made your mind whirl with thoughts of what that could mean. “Are-are you jealous?” you questioned quietly into the thick air.

A growl answered you at first. His fist full of your hair tightened and pulled your head back. Neck fully exposed, he leaned down and pressed his mandibles to the feeble flesh. You weren’t scared. Zageiadp would never hurt you.

“I’m not… jealous,” he grumbled in disagreement. A small laugh broke through the tension at last.

“And I thought Yautjas didn’t lie,” you jestered. The Yautja pulled away from your throat and find your eyes again.

“I’m not jealous. It’s just, you’re mine.” Your eyes expanded at his statement. He made it sound like a fact. And… you didn’t mind that. You snorted through your nose. “Do not laugh. It’s the truth. That fool thought he could best me, undermine me in without me being here. He was sorely wrong.”

You attempted to peek around him to see if E’ki was still here. Yet, Zageiadp fully consumed your vision. “Jealous seems to be a great motivator for you,” you teased the large male crowding into your space. He huffed before finally pulling away to use the armrests to prop himself up.

Zageiadp shrugged. “So what if I’m jealous? I don’t see you complaining.” Your lips tightly together. Instantly, your eyes darted to the side. Anything not to meet his gaze. He simply pinched your chin with two fingers and softly brought you to face him again. “Are you?”

Trapped in his hold, you are barely able to shake your head, not trusting your voice in this situation. “Good,” he purred. “The next time I see him in here, I will not hesitate to reteach him a lesson. I’ve done my fair share of training younglings. It’s nothing new.”

Dumbly, you nodded.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

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