#drew this after the first kitchen scene

[theartofnieriel]

Basically every kitchen scene.

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reblog, don’t repost. thank you

[pucksandpower]

Oscat

shifter!Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: when you see an adorable stray black cat hanging around your neighborhood, you can’t resist taking him in … but there’s just one problem, the cat’s not actually a cat

Oscar Piastri never thought his life would come to this — crouched under a battered kitchen chair in a cramped university flat, ears flattened against his skull, tail twitching nervously as he watches you fumble with a small red collar.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” you coo, your voice soft and coaxing. You wiggle your fingers, the sound of the collar's bell jingling faintly as you shake it. “I promise you’ll look so cute in this.”

Oscar can’t believe he’s let it get this far. One moment, he’s wandering the neighborhood as a cat, enjoying the freedom that comes with paws instead of feet, and the next — this. A crazy girl who somehow managed to corral him into her apartment and is now intent on … he doesn’t even know what. But he knows it’s not good. He considers bolting, but you’re blocking the only exit, and he isn’t sure he has it in him to leap past you without causing a scene.

“C’mon, I know you like the tuna,” you say, holding up a plate with some leftover fish you’d put out for him earlier. “Just let me get this on you, and I’ll give you more, okay?”

He narrows his eyes, inching back under the chair. This whole situation is ridiculous, and he’s thoroughly regretting his decision to stick around after the first time you fed him. But there was something about you that drew him in — a warmth, maybe, or just the sheer determination with which you tried to get him to trust you.

But now you’ve crossed a line.

You sigh, clearly frustrated, and sit back on your heels. “Why are you being so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, you know? What if you get lost or hurt? You need a collar, at least …”

Oscar’s ears perk up at the concern in your voice, and he feels a pang of guilt. You don’t know what you’re doing — how could you? To you, he’s just a stray cat, not a twenty-three-year-old Formula 1 driver with a secret he can’t afford to let anyone find out. He’s supposed to be smart, calculated, always one step ahead. Not cowering under a chair because a university student wants to play house with him.

You huff and toss the collar onto the table with a clatter. “Fine,” you say, standing up and crossing your arms. “I’ll leave you alone for now, but you’re not getting any more tuna unless you let me put that on you.”

Oscar’s stomach growls, and he curses his weakness. The tuna had been good — too good, if he’s being honest. He watches as you turn away, heading into another room. This is his chance. He could make a break for it, slip out the door before you even realize what’s happening.

But he hesitates.

Why? He wonders, paws shifting restlessly. This isn’t like him. He should be gone by now, back to the comfort of his flat, where he can shift back and pretend this whole mess never happened. Yet something keeps him rooted in place.

Then, he hears you talking to someone on the phone.

“Yes, I found a stray,” you say, your voice echoing slightly through the walls. “He’s so cute, but I don’t know … do you think I should take him to the vet? Get him checked out?”

Oscar’s blood runs cold. This is bad. This is really bad. He needs to get out — now.

You continue, “I was thinking maybe I could get him neutered too, you know? So he doesn’t run off and get hurt or something … ”

He bolts from under the chair, skidding across the linoleum as he makes a beeline for the door. But before he can reach it, you step back into the room, phone pressed to your ear.

“Whoa, whoa!” You exclaim, dropping the phone onto the table as you rush to block his path. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Oscar tries to dart around you, but you’re quicker than he anticipated, and he’s forced to leap onto the counter instead. He glares at you from his new perch, fur bristling in warning.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, hands on your hips. “I’m just trying to help you.”

“Yeah, help me lose my manhood,” Oscar mutters under his breath, though it comes out as an indignant hiss.

You frown, clearly not understanding his displeasure. “You’re acting like I’m torturing you or something,” you say, reaching out cautiously. “Just let me put the collar on, okay? Then I’ll leave you alone.”

Oscar swats at your hand, his claws barely grazing your skin. He doesn’t want to hurt you — he just wants you to back off. This is getting too close for comfort.

You pull your hand back, eyes widening in surprise. “Okay, okay, no collar,” you say, trying to soothe him. “We’ll figure something else out.”

But Oscar’s had enough. He leaps from the counter to the windowsill, then down to the floor, and races towards the door again. This time, he manages to slip past you, his sleek black fur a blur as he darts through the narrow opening.

He hears you call after him, your voice tinged with worry, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He sprints down the hallway, paws pounding against the carpeted floor, until he reaches the stairwell. He takes the steps two at a time, his heart racing as he finally bursts out into the cool evening air.

Freedom.

He doesn’t slow down until he’s a good block away from your building, his chest heaving as he ducks into the shadows of a nearby alley. He’s safe. For now.

But then he hears it — your voice, faint but unmistakable, carried on the breeze as you step out of your apartment, searching for him.

“Kitty?” You call, your voice trembling slightly. “Where did you go?”

Oscar slinks further into the shadows, his heart twisting with guilt. He didn’t mean to scare you, but he couldn’t let you take him to the vet. He couldn’t let you get too close. But now, as he listens to the sound of your footsteps growing fainter, he feels a pang of something he hasn’t felt in a long time — regret.

“Please come back,” you whisper, and he can hear the tears in your voice. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to help …”

Oscar’s resolve weakens, his tail flicking nervously as he peeks around the corner. He can see you standing there, arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. You look so small, so vulnerable, and it tugs at something deep inside him.

He shouldn’t care. He’s not supposed to care. He’s always kept his distance, never letting anyone get too close, especially not like this. But here you are, and for reasons he can’t quite explain, he doesn’t want to see you cry.

He takes a tentative step forward, but then stops himself. What can he do? Walk back into your life, let you put that collar on him, and risk everything? Or turn away, leave you behind, and never look back?

You’re wiping at your eyes now, sniffling quietly. “I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself. “Why did I think I could just … ugh.”

Oscar’s ears droop. This is all wrong. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t feel this way. But the sight of you, standing there alone, makes him want to go back, to do something, anything, to make you smile again.

Before he can make a decision, you give up and turn back towards the building, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Oscar watches you go, every instinct telling him to stay hidden, to let you go. But as you disappear through the door, he finds himself inching forward, until he’s standing just outside the entrance, ears perked up, listening for any sign of you.

Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, this isn’t over yet.

***

Oscar can’t help it. He tells himself he’s just checking in, that it’s only temporary. But day after day, he finds himself outside your building, watching, waiting, listening.

It starts with a cautious glance through the window, his keen eyes picking out your silhouette as you move about your flat. The blinds are often drawn, but he can still see enough. Enough to know that something’s changed.

You’re not yourself.

The first day after he ran away, he saw you sitting by the window, staring out into the distance, your face etched with worry. He tells himself it’s none of his business. That he’s done the right thing by leaving. But every time he turns to go, he finds his paws rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn back to you.

And then there’s the phone calls.

Oscar doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he can’t help it when your voice carries through the thin walls of the apartment building. One day, he’s curled up on the windowsill of the flat next door when he hears you talking on the phone again, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, pacing back and forth. “He was here one minute and then gone the next. I’m so worried about him.”

Oscar’s ears perk up, guilt gnawing at him as he listens. You’re talking about him, of course. He knows that. And the fact that you’re still thinking about him, still concerned for his well-being, makes him feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

“He looked healthy,” you continue, your voice shaking slightly. “But what if something happened to him? What if he got hurt or … or worse?”

He winces at the pain in your voice. He didn’t want to scare you, didn’t want to make you worry. But what choice did he have? Letting you take him to the vet would have exposed him — both literally and figuratively. He couldn’t risk that.

“I read somewhere that stray cats have a lifespan of less than two years,” you say, your tone now laced with a mixture of fear and sadness. “I don’t want that to happen to him. I just … I just want him to be okay.”

Oscar closes his eyes, your words cutting deeper than any wound he’s ever felt. He doesn’t want to be the cause of your pain. But what can he do?

Then, he hears it — the soft, broken sound of you crying.

It’s like a punch to the gut. His ears flatten against his head, and he feels an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame. He doesn’t like seeing you like this. No, that’s not right — he hates it. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, yet here you are, crying because of him.

He tries to walk away, to tell himself that it’s for the best, that you’ll move on and forget about him eventually. But the sound of your sobs echoes in his ears, haunting him, and he knows he can’t just leave it like this.

Maybe going back for a few hours won’t hurt anyone, he rationalizes, pacing back and forth in the alley. He’ll show up, let you see he’s okay, and then leave before things get too complicated. Simple.

But as he sits there, tail flicking with nervous energy, he realizes it’s not that simple. Because the truth is, he doesn’t want to leave. Not really. There’s something about you that draws him in, something that makes him feel … safe.

Wanted.

Needed.

And so, with a heavy sigh, he makes his decision. He waits until the sun sets, the shadows growing long and the streets quiet. Then, he slips through the narrow gap in the window that you always leave open, landing softly on the worn carpet of your living room.

You don’t notice him at first. You’re sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, your phone discarded on the cushion next to you. You’re staring at the TV, but it’s clear you’re not really watching it. Your eyes are red, cheeks stained with tears, and Oscar’s heart clenches at the sight.

He takes a cautious step forward, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He doesn’t want to startle you, doesn’t want to make things worse. But as he approaches, you suddenly turn your head, your eyes widening as they meet his.

“Kitty?” You breathe, sitting up straight. For a moment, you just stare at him, as if you can’t believe he’s real. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across your face, soft and relieved. “You came back.”

Oscar doesn’t move, watching you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. When you don’t make any sudden movements, he takes another step closer, his ears twitching nervously.

You wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “I thought I’d lost you,” you say, your voice shaky but full of warmth. “Where did you go?”

He doesn’t answer, of course — he can’t. But he does allow himself to move closer, until he’s standing right in front of you, his nose just inches from your outstretched hand.

“Can I … ” you ask, your hand hovering in the air, waiting for his permission.

Oscar hesitates for just a moment before he nuzzles against your palm, his fur brushing against your skin. It feels … right, somehow. Comforting. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as you gently stroke his head, your fingers trailing down his back in soothing motions.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, and Oscar can hear the relief in your voice. “I was so worried.”

Guilt twists in his chest again, but he pushes it aside. He’s here now, and that’s what matters. He’ll stay for a little while, just long enough to make sure you’re okay, too.

You sit back, still petting him, and Oscar takes the opportunity to hop up onto the couch beside you. He curls up next to you, resting his head on your leg, and for a moment, everything feels … normal. Peaceful, even.

“You must have been so scared,” you murmur, your voice soft as you continue to stroke his fur. “Running away like that … I don’t blame you, though. I must have freaked you out with all that vet talk.”

Oscar doesn’t react, but internally, he’s cursing himself. Of course you’re blaming yourself. Why wouldn’t you? You have no idea who — or what — he really is. To you, he’s just a scared little stray cat who panicked and bolted at the first sign of trouble.

“But I’m not going to push you anymore,” you say, as if reading his thoughts. “I just want you to be safe. That’s all.”

The sincerity in your voice hits Oscar like a ton of bricks. He knows he shouldn’t be here, knows he’s playing with fire by getting this close. But in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care. He’s missed this — missed you, even though he barely knows you.

You lean back against the couch, your hand still resting on his back, and Oscar feels a strange sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way — since he’s allowed himself to feel this way. And as much as he knows he should leave, he can’t. Not yet.

He hears you yawn, the sound soft and tired, and he lifts his head to look up at you. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, your movements slow and drowsy. It’s late, and he can see the exhaustion etched into your features.

“Guess we both had a long day,” you mumble, your hand coming to rest on the couch beside him as you settle back into the cushions. “I should probably get to bed.”

Oscar watches as you slowly push yourself up, stretching as you stand. He expects you to head to your bedroom, to leave him on the couch for the night. But instead, you glance down at him, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Wanna come with me?” You ask, your voice soft and inviting.

He knows it’s a bad idea. He knows he should stay right where he is, let you go to bed, and slip out the window before morning comes. But the thought of leaving you alone, of returning to the cold, empty streets outside, makes his chest tighten with a loneliness he hasn’t felt in years.

So, against his better judgment, he hops down from the couch and follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

You open the door, flicking on a small bedside lamp, and Oscar watches as you move around the room, pulling back the covers and fluffing up your pillows. He hesitates at the threshold, his instincts warring with the pull he feels toward you.

But then you turn to him, patting the space beside you on the bed, and he’s powerless to resist.

“C’mon, kitty,” you say, your voice warm and coaxing. “You can sleep here tonight.”

He pads over to the bed, jumping up onto the soft mattress. It’s warm, inviting, and before he knows it, he’s curled up next to you, your presence calming in a way he didn’t think possible.

You slip under the covers, lying on your side, and Oscar snuggles closer, his body pressed against yours. He can feel your steady breathing, hear the soft rustle of the sheets as you settle in, and it lulls him into a sense of safety he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, your voice already thick with sleep.

Oscar's eyes drift closed, his body warm and relaxed as he nestles against you. He knows he should be on high alert, ready to bolt at any moment, but for the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to let go. Just for tonight.

As you fall asleep beside him, your hand resting gently on his back, Oscar realizes he’s found something here — something he didn’t know he was missing. He can’t stay forever, but maybe, just maybe, he can stay a little longer.

Just for tonight.

***

Oscar wakes to the sound of a scream that nearly sends him bolting out of bed. His eyes fly open, his heart hammering in his chest, but the feeling that greets him isn’t the familiar warmth of fur or the safe confines of a small, curled-up position.

It’s a body — a human body.

His human body.

And beside him, you’re staring at him, your eyes wide with shock, your mouth open in mid-scream as you scramble to the edge of the bed, clutching the covers around you like a shield.

“What the — who the hell are you?” You shriek, your voice high-pitched and panicked.

Oscar’s brain stutters to catch up with what’s happening. He glances down at himself, realizing with a jolt that he’s completely naked. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This isn’t happening. How could he have been so careless? He’s been shifting for years, but never like this. Never in front of someone. Never in such a vulnerable position.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, his voice rough with sleep and panic. He grabs at the nearest pillow, pressing it to his lap in a desperate attempt to cover himself. “Just, um, don’t freak out. Please.”

“Explain?” You repeat, your voice trembling as you blink rapidly, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. “What the hell are you doing in my bed? And why are you … why are you … naked?”

Oscar’s mind races, the words tangling together in his head. He’s supposed to be good under pressure — he’s faced down race cars at hundreds of kilometers per hour, for crying out loud. But right now, all he can think about is how utterly screwed he is.

“I-I’m not a creep, I swear,” he blurts out, his face flushing with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to — this isn’t what it looks like.”

Your eyes narrow, still full of fear and confusion, but also dawning recognition. You stare at him for a long moment, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then, slowly, the pieces start to fall into place, and your expression shifts from terror to something else entirely.

“Wait a minute,” you say, squinting at him. “I know you. You’re … Oscar Piastri?”

He winces at the sound of his name. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the words. “Oscar Piastri is in my bed. Naked. And I’m … wait, am I still dreaming? Did I fall asleep watching Formula 1 highlights again?”

“No, no, you’re not dreaming,” Oscar says quickly, shaking his head. “This is real. But I promise, I can explain. Just … can we, maybe, both take a breath for a second?”

You inhale sharply, clutching the covers tighter around yourself as you stare at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “Okay,” you say, your voice shaky. “Breathing. Breathing is good. But you still owe me a pretty big explanation.”

Oscar nods, taking a deep breath himself to steady his racing thoughts. He’s never had to explain this to anyone before, and now that he’s actually faced with the situation, he realizes just how insane it’s going to sound.

“Okay, so, uh …” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to start. “I know this is going to sound really weird, but … you remember the cat? The one you were worried about?”

Your brow furrows in confusion, and you nod slowly. “Yeah …”

“Well,” Oscar continues, his voice trailing off for a moment before he forces himself to say it. “That was me. I mean, I was the cat.”

You blink at him, clearly trying to process what he just said. “Wait. You’re saying … you’re the cat? Like, you were the cat?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, wincing at how ridiculous it sounds out loud. “I’m, um, I’m a shifter. I can turn into a black cat. And I was the cat that you, uh, accidentally … kidnapped.”

You stare at him, your mouth hanging open as you try to wrap your head around this. “So, you’re telling me that the cat I’ve been feeding, the cat that I tried to take to the vet, was actually you? The whole time?”

Oscar nods sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I was just … curious, I guess. But then things got a little out of hand.”

You sit back on the bed, your mind clearly spinning as you try to reconcile the image of the cute, harmless black cat with the sight of Oscar Piastri — fully human and fully naked — in your bed. “This is … this is insane,” you say, shaking your head. “I mean, I believe you, I guess. But it’s just … wow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Oscar says, offering a small, awkward smile. “It’s a lot to take in. And I’m really sorry for scaring you like that. I didn’t mean to shift back. It usually doesn’t happen unless I want it to, but I guess I must’ve just … relaxed too much.”

You laugh, a short, incredulous sound. “Relaxed? You were relaxed enough to just shift back into a human? Wow, I must be really good company.”

Oscar chuckles nervously. “You have no idea.”

There’s a moment of silence as you both try to process everything. Then, you look back at him, your expression softening slightly. “So, you’re really … a shifter? Like, that’s a real thing?”

Oscar nods. “Yeah. I’ve been able to do it since I was a kid. It’s not something I talk about, obviously. It’s kind of a secret.”

“A big secret,” you say, your eyes wide. “I mean, it’s not every day you find out an F1 driver can turn into a cat.”

Oscar blushes at that, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that you’re taking this better than he expected. “Yeah, it’s not exactly something I advertise. And, uh, I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this between us.”

You nod quickly, your expression earnest. “Of course. I wouldn’t tell anyone. I mean, who would believe me, anyway?”

Oscar lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you. Seriously. This whole thing … it’s complicated, and I don’t want to make things harder for myself or anyone else.”

You smile, a hint of playfulness returning to your eyes. “Well, I guess I’m the last person who’d have room to judge. I did kind of … try to get you neutered.”

Oscar laughs, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Yeah, that was … a close call.”

You shake your head, still looking slightly overwhelmed but more at ease now. “I’m sorry for that, by the way. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says, smiling. “I’m just glad I got out of there before it was too late.”

There’s another pause, the awkwardness slowly fading into something more comfortable. You glance over at the clock on your nightstand, and then back at him, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“So,” you say, a teasing edge in your voice. “What’s the plan now? Are you just going to stay here or …”

Oscar’s eyes widen as he remembers his current state of undress. “Oh, uh, right. I should probably … get dressed. Do you have, like, a blanket or something?”

You laugh, your initial shock giving way to amusement. “Yeah, hold on.” You reach over to the chair by the bed, grabbing the throw blanket draped over it and tossing it to him. “Here. Cover up before I have to start charging you for the show.”

Oscar catches the blanket, wrapping it around himself as best as he can. “Thanks. Sorry about that. Not exactly how I planned on spending my morning.”

You smile, still shaking your head in disbelief. “This is definitely the weirdest morning of my life.”

“Same here,” Oscar admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “But, uh, now that we’ve got that out of the way … do you maybe want to grab breakfast or something? With no canned tuna this time.”

You raise an eyebrow, the playful spark back in your eyes. “Breakfast? With a shifter who accidentally ended up naked in my bed? Sounds like the start of a weird romcom.”

Oscar grins, his nerves finally settling. “Yeah, maybe. But, I mean, the offer still stands. We could … talk more. Or not talk at all. Just … eat?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I’ve always been more of a Ferrari girlie. But I guess I can make an exception this once.”

Oscar chuckles, his heart lightening at your teasing tone. “Well, I appreciate that. I’ll try not to hold it against you.”

You laugh, standing up and stretching, the tension finally draining from the room. “Okay, then. Breakfast it is. But you owe me a proper explanation over pancakes. I still have a lot of questions.”

“Deal,” Oscar says, standing as well, the blanket still wrapped around him. “And, uh, maybe I can borrow some clothes? Just until I get back to my place.”

You smirk, clearly amused by his predicament. “Sure. I think I have some sweatpants and a T-shirt that might fit you. They’re probably not papaya, though.”

Oscar laughs, feeling more at ease than he has in days. “That’s fine by me. I’m not picky.”

As you head off to find the clothes, Oscar takes a deep breath, letting the reality of the situation sink in. It’s definitely not how he expected this to go, but somehow, it feels right. Like maybe this bizarre turn of events was exactly what he needed.

And as he watches you rummage through your dresser, he can’t help but think that, for once, shifting back to his human form at the wrong time might have been the best mistake he’s ever made.

***

Oscar leaps onto the windowsill, his black fur sleek and gleaming in the afternoon light. He peers through the glass, watching you, seated at your desk, hunched over your textbooks. Your hair is pulled back, a pen held between your teeth as you jot down notes with a furrowed brow.

He feels a surge of affection watching you work so hard, but it’s mixed with a touch of mischief. He’s been patient all day, but now he’s had enough. It’s time for a study break, whether you want one or not.

With a graceful hop, he slips through the open window and lands silently on the floor. His tail flicks behind him as he pads softly toward you, his green eyes locked onto your focused expression. He almost feels guilty interrupting you — almost. But then again, it’s been hours since you last gave him any attention, and he’s starting to feel a bit neglected.

You don’t notice him at first, too engrossed in whatever academic puzzle you’re trying to solve. But Oscar is nothing if not persistent. He jumps onto your desk, landing squarely on your notebook, and lets out a soft, insistent meow.

Your head jerks up in surprise, your eyes widening as you take in the sight of him. “Oscar! You scared me!”

He purrs, rubbing his head against your arm, his way of saying, “Sorry, but you’ve been ignoring me.”

You sigh, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays your affection. “I’ve got a lot to do, you know. Finals are coming up.”

Oscar meows again, louder this time, before nudging your hand with his head. He can feel you wavering, your resolve crumbling as you reach out to scratch behind his ears. His purring deepens, vibrating through his small frame as he leans into your touch.

“You’re so spoiled,” you mutter, but there’s no real annoyance in your voice. “You know that, right?”

Oscar only purrs louder in response, nuzzling against your hand. He steps carefully onto your lap, circling once before settling down. You laugh softly, resigned, as you set your pen aside and lean back in your chair.

“Alright, alright. I guess I can take a break for a few minutes.”

He stretches out, making himself comfortable as you begin to pet him in earnest, your fingers trailing through his fur in long, slow strokes. It’s blissful, the way you touch him, the warmth of your hand against his back.

All thoughts of studying fade from your mind as you focus entirely on him, and Oscar relishes every second of it. This is what he’s wanted all day — to be close to you, to feel your affection without any distractions.

Minutes pass, and your strokes become slower, more languid. Oscar watches you through half-lidded eyes, sensing your fatigue. The stress of studying, of exams, is catching up with you, and he knows how much you’ve been pushing yourself lately. He nudges you with his head, encouraging you to relax even more, to let go of the tension that’s been building up.

You yawn, a deep, sleepy sound that makes him purr in satisfaction. “I think you’re a bad influence on me, Oscar,” you murmur, your voice drowsy. “I should be studying, but all I want to do is cuddle with you.”

Oscar’s purring doesn’t falter — if anything, it grows even more content. He watches as your eyelids grow heavier, your breathing slows, and your hand eventually stills against his fur. You’re falling asleep, lulled by the gentle rhythm of petting him and the comfort of his presence.

He stays perfectly still, letting you drift off completely. You deserve the rest, he thinks. You’ve been working so hard, and a little nap won’t hurt. Besides, he likes being the reason you’re able to relax like this, to forget about your worries for a while.

When he’s certain you’re fully asleep, Oscar carefully extracts himself from your lap, moving with the quiet grace of a cat. He pads over to the couch, glancing back to make sure you’re still sleeping soundly. Then, in one fluid motion, he shifts back into his human form.

Oscar sighs softly, standing by the couch for a moment as he stretches his arms over his head. It’s been a long day for him too — training, meetings, the usual demands of being a Formula 1 driver. But this is the part of his day he looks forward to the most: being with you, in this quiet, peaceful space that the two of you share.

He carefully lifts you from the chair, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to the couch. You stir slightly but don’t wake, your head resting against his chest as he settles you down on the cushions. Oscar smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he stretches out beside you, pulling you close.

He wraps an arm around you, your body fitting perfectly against his. There’s something indescribably comforting about holding you like this, feeling your warmth seep into him as you sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, closing his eyes as he allows himself to relax fully for the first time all day.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, entwined on the couch. Oscar can hear your steady breathing, feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s moments like this that make everything worth it — the races, the pressure, the endless travel. None of it compares to this simple, quiet happiness.

As he holds you, Oscar’s thoughts drift. He thinks about how much his life has changed since that day you found him in your bed, how unexpected it all was. He hadn’t planned on letting anyone in, on sharing his secret with someone else. But you … you’ve become so much more than he ever anticipated.

You’re his confidant, his partner, his best friend. And though he’s still getting used to the idea, you’re also the person he’s fallen in love with, slowly and completely. It’s a realization that both scares and excites him, because he’s never had something — or someone — this important before. Racing has always been his focus, but now, you’re a part of his life that he can’t imagine being without.

As you sleep in his arms, Oscar tightens his hold on you, a protective instinct kicking in. He’ll do anything to keep you safe, to make sure you’re happy. And if that means taking any opportunity to spend more time with you, to be there for you when you need him, then that’s what he’ll do.

You murmur something in your sleep, your body shifting slightly against his. Oscar’s heart swells with affection, and he kisses your forehead again, a silent promise that he’ll always be here for you.

Outside, the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The world keeps turning, the demands of life waiting just outside the door. But for now, in this moment, there’s nothing else that matters. Just you, and him, and the quiet contentment of being together.

Oscar closes his eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over him. There will be time for everything else later. For now, he’s exactly where he wants to be.

[supernaturalfreakout]

The Morning After

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: You wake up after a wild night with Sam. He refuses to let you to forget how good he made you feel ...

Tags: 18+ MDNI, fluff and smut, Dom!Sam, Sub!You, BDSM, consensual kink, aftercare, oral (fem receiving), vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is part of a wider fic. Reader had mental health issues. Newly-established relationship. Sam is very protective over you.

The next morning came like a declaration. The sun was out, reigning high and bright in the crisp winter sky, and for the first time in years, you felt at peace; awoke without a deep, profound longing gnawing at your bones. The absence was noticeable. So noticeable in fact, that at first, it was almost unsettling. As if a piece of yourself had gotten lost in the night, only to be replaced by a feeling so foreign it felt out of place in your body. Where once stood a well, waters dark and stagnant, now existed an ocean—vast, moving, and alive. So instead of reaching for your phone, squeezing your knees to your chest, or holding your breath to fill the void, you rolled to the side, opened your eyes, and welcomed the day with the deepest sigh of relief you could muster.

Beside you, Sam splayed. His rich brown hair fanned like shards of chocolate over your faded floral pillowcase; his lips parted softly in sleep. His body took up most of the bed, and—as you had realized in the night—had a habit of eating the sheets. You now noticed that was probably because he clenched the edges in his fists, so whenever he rolled, they rolled with him. You smiled at that—little quirks only ever revealed in the midst of intimacy. After-hour truths and early-morning peculiarities. You wondered how many more he had; whether he knew them himself; whether you would be lucky enough to discover them all, one day. It was a wistful thought. A dangerous thought. Yet today, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to deny them.

Sweeping your eyes over his features, you admired the mix of sharp masculine strength, and soft delicate beauty. You observed the rise and fall of his chest in time with his peaceful breathing, the subtle flutter of his eyes beneath his lids, and his jaw; strong, but relaxed, framed by stubble that was getting even longer by the day. You knew that Dean would probably tease him for it, but you didn’t mind. In fact, it rather suited him. And the way it felt roughing up your thighs ...

You shuffled up the bed, wincing softly as you drew your eyes from the scene. It took every fiber of your strength, but you managed. It was too early for those kinds of thoughts, wasn’t it? Plus, you were sore, the ache in your glutes and hips reminiscent of a tough session at the gym.

Next to you, on your bedside table, stood a bottle of lotion, a half-sipped glass of water, and an open packet of Advil; the only evidence of last night’s promiscuities in sight.

After your shower, Sam had diligently stripped the bed, chucking the dirty sheets in the wash along with his soiled jeans.

Your face reddened at the thought, memories of the evening before resurfacing. You hadn’t had sex like that in… well … never.

Your eyes drifted back to Sam’s sleeping form. Your body heated. A selfish thought crossed your mind.

How easy it would be, you thought. To roll on top of him and take what I want. He wouldn’t say no. You were sure of it. Hell, he’d practically sworn an oath of servitude. But no. I can’t. I shouldn’t … Poor man needs his rest.

Sam must have felt your shifting as he groaned softly, then rolled away, towards the window where the morning light was waiting behind the backdrop of the curtain. You lingered for a moment, on the brink of hesitation before delicately slipping your legs out of the sheets, careful not to make too much of an impression in the mattress.

After quickly popping your pill, you padded barefoot towards the door. You floated down the stairs and into your kitchen where you went through the motions, swallowing your vitamins before pressing some fresh coffee for the both of you. Sam liked his black—because of course he did—health nut that he is. But your preferred brew was with oat milk, and a generous helping of caramel.

Balancing the two steaming mugs, you ascended the stairs and nudged open the bedroom door. The room was still bathed in the soft light of morning, the hazy transition between sleep and waking making it feel like you were in a dream. But you were not dreaming. This was real. And way more colorful.

Sam’s back was still turned to you, but he stirred as you set the mugs down on your nightstand. He rolled onto his back, blinking his eyes open. When he saw you, a sleepy smile spread across his lips.

“Morning," you said, your voice still hushed as you slipped back under the sheets.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice deep and rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”

“Made you coffee." You nodded towards the mug. “Figured you might need it after last night.”

A low, rumbling chuckle sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “You spoil me.” He kissed your forehead as he reached over to grab the mug from your nightstand. “Mm, perfect,” he said, eyes fluttering shut as he took a sip, savoring the warmth on his tongue. “Just what I needed.”

You smiled, took a sip from your own mug before setting it down and snuggling into his side. Into safety. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you couldn’t help but sigh in contentment as you laid your head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

After a moment, Sam asked, “How’re you feeling?” as his hand gently traced circles on your lower back. “Any more aches or pains?”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. Last night, before bed—but not before a thorough debrief and a comforting dinner—Sam had insisted on inspecting the damage, checking your body for any signs of injury or abrasion, making you lie still as he massaged lotion onto your ass, wrists and knees.

“How bad?” you’d asked, looking over your shoulder as you laid flat on your belly, feeling particularly silly as he slathered another cold dollop on your ass cheeks.

The redness was fading, but the most abused patches had already begun to mottle. “You’re bruised.” He’d said it like an accomplishment. Even so, you could tell he felt a little guilty. Dude seemed to find a reason for self-blame in everything, you’d noticed.

Bruises were acceptable, you’d agreed. Favorable, even. As long as they could stay hidden. A secret for you to enjoy. You weren’t a fan of parading your winnings.

“Jeez, baby," he'd said, "you didn’t even stop me once.”

“Didn’t need to. I’m a tough cookie.”

“You most certainly are.”

Sam had continued his inspection of your butt a bit longer than necessary, watching the emerging patterns bloom before him. And you’d let him. It felt nice to be wanted; to be admired.

Now you felt the residual ache of the night before as you stretched out your limbs. A reminder of how he’d marked you. Claimed you. A brand you were proud to bear. The hickey on his hip paled in comparison.

“A few,” you admitted, casting a shy, sideways smile. “But nothing too bad. Just … you know, the good kind of sore.”

Sam’s eyes darkened as he met your gaze, remembering the intensity of your session; how rough he’d been and how you’d embraced it all. Embraced him. He’d get a proper look at you later; get a better idea of your tolerance. But for now, his hand continued its soothing movements on your back, dipping lower to massage the ache in your hips. “Let me know if you need anything. I might’ve been a little too enthusiastic.”

“I think I can manage … Besides,” you added, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw, feeling the graze of his stubble against your lips. “You more than made up for it.”

His hand moved to your thigh, fingers kneading gently into the tender muscles there, his touch both comforting, and suggestive. “Maybe I should make it up to you again.” His voice dropped lower as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, guiding your lips to his.

The kiss was slow and deep; a languid exploration that sent a wave of heat through your body. You felt yourself melting into him, the soft sheets tangling around your legs as you pressed closer, craving the feel of his skin against yours. Suddenly, the ache in your muscles seemed to subside, replaced by a burning want. It had only been a few hours, book-ended by sleep, but still, you felt the pull, the desire to dive straight back in. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, the air between you sparkling with a familiar electricity.

“Careful,” you whispered, lips brushing against his as you spoke. “We might not make it out of bed if you keep that up.”

“Maybe that’s the point.” He slid his hand back under the sheets. Skimmed his fingers across your skin. “I’ll be gentle ...”

You swallowed, moistening a suddenly dry mouth. “You’re not ... tired?”

“Are you?”

“Wide awake.”

“Well, then . . .”

You let him guide you to your back, moaning softly as your head hit the pillow, followed by his mouth at the base of your throat. His kisses cascaded down your chest, between your breasts, down your stomach, tumbling over your hips like waves over rocks until they finally crashed in the hollow between your legs. The place that had become their home.

“I’ll never get sick of this…” A smile lit up his eyes, your sheen glistening like gloss on his lips. “You’re delightful ... Delicious.”

“You’re unreal.”

“No, princess…” A slip of a finger. In and up towards your navel. “I’m very … Real.”

----

This is an excerpt from my longer fic on AO3. You'll find more of this—including what they got up to the night before—here. 😏

[laswells-ashtray]

How I think different COD characters act with kids:

Price is like that scene from Heat where Pacino picks up the little girl from the middle of a shoot-out and walks away holding her, muttering "I got you, it's okay." If a toddler walks up to him looking for help finding Mum, he'll pick them up and walk around holding them as they try to find her: "What colour is Mum's hair, sweetheart?"

Soap is great with kids, rough at first but when he works out if they're the boisterous or quiet type, he'll adjust himself accordingly so that the little one isn't uncomfortable. If he has a snack on him then he'll share it with them. Has a lot of nieces and nephews and he is the favourite uncle because he will let them swear when Mum and Dad aren't around.

If you let Gaz look after your kids then they'll leave thinking he's the coolest person ever, no-one knows how he does it but kids just think he is the single most impressive guy they've ever met. Has one niece and she adores him, that's her best friend. Will lie to kids though, big fan of "I'm friends with Batman."

Ghost is unbelievably gentle with kids, hand him a baby and they're falling asleep in his arms. Toddlers will cling to his legs or grab at his hands. Even teenagers at their bitchiest trust him, isn't the first time he's had to defend a group of teens from some withering old pensioner with nothing better to do than yell at them. Soap takes him home and he very quickly replaces Johnny as the favourite uncle.

Nikolai will let a kid use him as a climbing frame. A kid comes up to him because they can't find Mum or Dad? He's lifting the kid up and telling them to point at where their parents are. No-one is stupid enough to try and approach the lost kid with him around because he mouths threats at them over the little one's head.

On more than one occasion a little girl has wandered up to Farah and asked if she can braid their hair like hers, she'll take a split second to look over at their guardian to see if they approve and if they do then she'll sit and very patiently braid their hair. Listening to anything the little one wants to ramble about with a smile.

Leave Alex with a kid of any age and he'll teach them about wrestling and WWE. He once accidentally spends 20 minutes talking to a teenager about The Undertaker and his lore. Had an entire conversation about the CM Punk/ Drew McIntyre feud with a 16-year-old girl once and walked away the happiest he'd been in weeks because he had no one to talk to about it before that.

Rudy is phenomenal at getting kids to calm down. If a toddler is crying or having a tantrum he'll get them calm and soon enough they'll be sitting on his knee. Kids just take to him, he visits Alejandro's family and one of the little ones grabs his hand and pulls him into the kitchen. They need to get something off of a shelf? They want Rudy's help. Need help with cutlery? Rudy has to help.

If you leave your kids with Alejandro then he will get them boisterous and excited, bouncing off of the walls and then give them back to you so he doesn't have to deal with it. Big fan of that thing guys do with babies where they lightly toss them up and catch them, subsequently scaring the tits off of any mother in the general vicinity. He has a handful of distant relatives that meet up around family times, he get's the kids all hyper and Rudy spends the next half hour calming them down while the parents drink

Valeria is a little awkward with kids. If one walks into her legs then her instinct is to scowl but once, and she'd deny it if anyone asked, a little boy walked into her legs and she automatically moved to scold him before seeing that he was crying and trailing his blankie about with him, no parents in sight. She picked him up, held him on her hip and hunted down his father before thoroughly scolding him for leaving a boy that small unattended. All while the little boy covers her shoulders with his blanket and keeps a hand fisted in her shirt, she doesn't even seem to notice that she's rubbing his back to keep him settled.

Graves isn't great with kids but he isn't bad either. If a kiddo comes wandering up to him in public because they lost their Mommy then you bet your ass he'll wait with them for as long as it takes. Any more than ten minutes and he's buying them juice. A kid wandered up to him once, their babysitter walked away and left them in a store. He finds the babysitter and forces them to call the kid's parents, waits for them to arrive and lectures the babysitter on not doing their job properly. By the time that kid goes home, he's bought them a hotdog, a juice box and a little plush bunny.

I know a lot of people are of the surprising opinion that Laswell sucks with kids but I disagree. Her wife comes from a big family and certainly, one with money. Any family event and there are seven kids minimum. Kate likes buying them animated Scooby-Doo films because it keeps the little ones quiet even for a little while. Every year the kids get a new blanket, new socks, an action figure/doll and candy of their choice from Auntie Kate. The two auntie Laswells are a favourite with little ones, school-age kids, teens and basically anyone under 25. Kate has a niece named after her on her wife's side and she'll die before anything happens to the chubby-cheeked baby girl.

[hugheshischier4313]

YOU MISS HIM DON’T YOU | Q. HUGHES

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: maybe emotional cheating?

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! I was rewatching desperate housewives and a certain scene encouraged me to write something similar. It was supposed to be a quick little Drabble/blurb but im at 10 pages now and still not done. So here’s a snippet :)

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Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future."  The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner. 

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch. 

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different colour every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed. 

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend. 

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over. 

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice,  it made you freeze. Andrew, he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around. 

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn. 

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand. 

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door. 

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

———————————————————————

[painted-flag]

A VICTOR, part two - Commodus

𓃮 emperor commodus x fem!reader 𓃭 masterlist. part one | part two | part three (final) 𓃮 warnings: small scene of violence towards reader (not by commodus) 𓃭 As a longtime and loyal servant working in the underbelly of the palace, your emergence into the light catches the attention of the emperor.

Days turned into a week, and then another, and another – blending everything. It had been almost a month since your invitation to Commodus’ chambers. The morning after you had feared the inevitable. Like all the other women he sent away, you would go too. However, such was not the case. Not only had you remained at the palace, but it had now become a nightly routine. 

After cleaning the kitchen at the end of the day, you would hastily make your way to his chambers. There, he would have you eat; knowing that you had little during your day of work. In the beginning, he would speak to you about random topics all in what you concluded was an effort to distract himself. Over time, he would begin to speak about his duties and frustrations regarding the senate. You understood that all he wanted was someone to listen.

All that was required of you was to offer words of comfort. You learned quickly that if you were to even slightly defend the senate and any of the senator's words, he would grow cold and become shut off for the rest of the evening; yet still did not wish for you to leave.

You still had no idea of his intentions, but had decided that for now, you were safe. At least, as safe as you could be – given Commodus’ well-known tendency to lash out. You had not been on the receiving end, nor would you ever try and bring it on. You were not stupid. The day after you told Commodus the identity of the servant that hurt your arm, that servant was never seen again. Simply, you provided him company which appeared to please and soothe him. 

Unfortunately, your duties had begun to slip. He had started to demand attention outside of the times of dusk until dawn. He wanted more attention and more of your focus. A natural consequence was rushing to finish your work. Scrubbing would be abandoned, some dishes would not be cleaned, and candles in other chambers would not be lit. If the other servants noticed it, they did not vocalize it. 

At first, some of the women wanted information regarding your first night with the emperor. They poked and prodded for any ounce of knowledge, but you remained steadfast in guarding the emperor’s secret. They all drew their own conclusions that you had slept with him, which was far from the truth, but a surprising event was the fact that you were not shunned and cast aside. Instead of a single night, they watched you go back every night since; now watching the emperor himself seek you out during the day. Whispers carried, but none wanted to be caught gossiping about the emperor. Should they choose to, their life could be forfeit. 

And so, your life carried on as though this was normal – as though this has been routine for years. 

You had been in one of the many spare rooms, wiping up some dust that had accumulated on a ledge with a small cloth when the door to the side opened. Before you could turn around, you felt arms come and wrap around your stomach. The sudden touch almost made you drop the cloth. The familiar scent of parchment and burning wood entered your senses and you immediately knew it was Commodus. 

He buried his head into your exposed neck and let out a long sigh. You felt his muscles relax as he leaned closer to you. By the sound of his sigh, he was in one of his irritated moods; often brought on by a difficult time with his duties. You made a move to turn around, but his grip got tighter and his lips brushed over the juncture between your neck and shoulder causing you to freeze. He had, in passing a few times, gently kissed your shoulders or cheek, but never had he been so bold in his movements. 

“Is everything all right, Caesar?” You questioned. 

Commodus shook his head against you and murmured, “What have we talked about?” 

“Of course,” You responded, “Is everything alright, Commodus?” Still, even a month in, it was sometimes difficult to address him by his name. However, his insistence was what brought you to heel. 

“No,” He breathed out on your skin, the action sending warmth from the area straight to your stomach, “They undermine me again.” 

“It is likely because they feel inferior to you,” One time, you had tried to defend the senators, but that only worsened his mood. You had learned the words that pleased him the most and gradually began to believe them as fact; an inner displeasure towards the senators you had never even met started to take root. 

“I don’t wish to speak of it,” Very slowly, he began to place featherlight kisses on your neck with one of his hands reaching up to gently pull back the fabric on your shoulder to give him more access, “What are you up to?” 

He often wished to hear you speak of monotonous things, letting himself sink into your presence and voice. It calmed him and in a sense, it calmed you as well. 

“I am only cleaning,” You began to speak, but found it difficult to focus on thinking when his hand that was wrapped around your stomach began to move in massaging patterns and his lips continued to assail your neck and only got more intense. 

“Cleaning?” Commodus spoke between his kisses. His voice was disconnected, entirely focused on his current task, “Sounds interesting,” He joked as he nipped at your skin. The action caused you to drop the cloth in your hand and let out a gasp. 

Commodus lifted his head and looked at the ground where the cloth fell, “Ah, it appears you have finished and are no longer busy,” Despite not seeing his face, you could tell there was a faint smile on his lips. He quickly spun you around in his arms, letting out a laugh at your dishevelled state. Red had made its way from your face to your upper chest, a sight that always amused him. 

“Commodus,” You scolded. 

His gaze darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, “Say it again.” You paused for a moment, wondering if that had angered him, but found no trace of annoyance on his face. However, the heavy look he had in his eye was like a man starved. It caught you off guard. 

“Commodus,” You whispered. That seemed to please him and he pulled you flush against his chest and began to kiss your jaw. His lips trailed down your jaw and towards your chin before moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was greedy and raw, but stirred unknown feelings in the pit of your stomach; a frantic flutter that would not go away. He had only ever given you gentle pecks on the cheek or shoulder, this was entirely new and you wondered what brought on such a craving. 

He pushed you backwards until your back hit one of the pillars. The marble was cold, shocking you for a moment due to the contrast of the heat of Commodus’ body. Yet, there was something about this that felt good; felt oddly right despite its unholy nature. He continued to kiss you, a mix of hunger and impatience wrapped in heated excitement. It made your knees feel weak and had your mind go fuzzy until all it could focus on was him. 

A small moan clawed its way from your throat that quickly made a groan fall from his lips. Commodus pulled away abruptly and looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. You recognized the look of calculation on his face. It was the same one he got when he came to moments of clarity; the slight widening of his eyes, the lines between his eyebrows crease, and his lips twitch almost imperceptibly. He had thought of something in that moment and it appeared to shake him.

As if burned, Commodus pulled away. The contrast between his now reserved nature to his openness just seconds before nearly whipped your head into a frenzy. He looked almost… unsure. 

“There are duties I must tend to.” He cut your meeting off short, giving a curt nod and speeding out of the room. His clothing billowed as he moved and you could do nothing but stand there and watch his back as he left. 

As he fled from your presence, disappointment flooded your body and you could not help but wonder what it was in that moment that shocked him so greatly.

You had been making your way to your room to finish weaving a carpet for one of the guest rooms when your master, Attius, turned down onto the corridor you were in. Upon spotting you, he lifted his hand to command you to stop. Instantly, your body ceased its movements, eyes flickering like the torches that lined the space. You waited as Attius got closer and held your mouth shut; he hated when spoken to first. 

He stopped short just in front of you, “You have been neglectful in your duties.” It was not a question to wonder what was happening, but a statement. He did not care about any excuse, but you tried to plead your case anyway. 

“The Caesar has been wishing for more of my attention-” He cut you off. 

“So it’s the emperor’s fault that you have failed your work?” Attius crossed his arms and stood closer to you, towering over your figure. 

“N-no, master, that is not what I meant-”

“Then why do you bring it up?” His tone came across as condescending and rhetorical. You sucked in a breath at his growing aggressive posture and chose to submit, lest you incur his wrath. 

“I will try and do better, master.” You bowed your head in submission. 

“You will not try, you will do better.” He used his forefinger to lift your chin so you could look right at him and he lowered his voice, “It would be a displeasure to hurt such a pretty face.” He quickly retracted his hand and continued down the corridor, casually as if the threat was a regular occurrence. It was, but you had largely managed to dodge it for most of your life. Unfortunately, it appears patience for you has worn thin. You gulped some air into your mouth, just noticing that you had held your breath through his threat. 

It was not until he turned down at the end of the hallway and left your sight that you felt you could move. It was as if released from a spell. You shook off the fear and moved in the opposite direction to your room. It was only a few doors down. 

Entering the room, your eyes saw a small space. It was all stone and had some open-air windows at the upper parts of the wall, as the rest was underground, that cast some golden light from the sun into the space. In the corner was a woven mat that you slept on. Thankfully, despite your status as a slave, you and your mother were able to keep some items when going into servitude – a privilege not afforded to most. Because of that, there were pillows and animal skins that lined the space, making the floor mat more comfortable to sleep on. 

It was where you sat down to continue the final details of finishing up the carpet you had been working on for one of the guest apartments. Time passed in a way that was unknown to you. The light got brighter, signalling that the sun was setting and the angle hit just the right spot to come flooding into your room. It was fairly warm, given that the cool ground normally fended most of the heat off. 

You were lost in your work, singing to yourself gently as you were trying off some pieces of fabric when your door opened. Looking up, you saw Commodus standing there. He had never come down to the lower levels of the palace before. His eyes scanned your room, taking note of what little possessions you were granted. 

“Commodus,” You spoke and got his attention. Seeing the tired look on his face, you became sympathetic, “What has happened?” What you really wanted to ask was what happened when he left you so abruptly earlier that day, but knew it was an answer you would have to wait for. 

“Damn the senate,” He mumbled as he closed your door and made his way to where you sat. You scooted over to make room and he settled amongst the pillows and animal furs behind you. Commodus placed his chin on your shoulder, looking over and down at the work you were doing. His arms wrapped around you and pulled your back to be flush against his chest while his legs lay bent at the knees on either side of you. 

Being cocooned in his warmth was something you had begun to get used to and dreaded the day it would go away. That negative voice in your head always reminded you that soon he will get tired of this, of you. 

Commodus looked at the various details on the carpet, spotting a small image, “A tiger?” 

“Yes,” You affirmed and ran your hand along the woven design, “I like tigers.” He moved his chin from your shoulder and replaced it with his mouth, his nose peeking over. He inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“Have you ever seen my tigers in the games?” He asked. You could feel his lips moving against your shoulder as he spoke.

“Once. I’m always too busy with my duties that I never have much spare time.” Your fingers tied off two pieces of fabric and moved on to the next bit of work. Commodus focused his attention on you, his hand brushing away your hair behind your ear and down your back, exposing your neck. 

He rested his head back on your shoulder and watched as you skillfully continued your work. Minutes passed in silence and you decided to hum a tune knowing it would make him happy. His fingers traced patterns on your stomach and you tried with all your might not to focus on it or you would melt into his arms. You had to finish this piece soon or Attius may use it as an excuse to reign down on you with anger. 

In the haze of relaxation, Commodus spoke gently, “Do you ever think about doing other things with your life?” 

His question came out of nowhere and left you wondering about his true intentions to ask such a thing. It was not something you ever thought about, nor cared to think about. This was your life, always and forever. There was no freedom given to a servant and such wishful thinking would only worsen your state. 

“I am good at what I do and I am honoured to serve the empire.” You responded. Yet, your answer did not seem to fully please him and he sighed. 

“What if there were other ways you could serve?” You did not understand Commodus’ mode of thinking, nor would you ever begin to try. In the time spent together, you learned he can often be unpredictable. 

“There is no other way I would wish to serve.” You reasoned. He hummed at that answer and brushed your shoulder before leaving a quick kiss over the fabric. His hand reached out to grip your chin gently, his thumb brushing over the skin in calm movements. Commodus looked you in the eyes. 

“Whatever you wish. Whatever you desire. State it.” You caught on to his unspoken words. Commodus wished for you to confess something you were not entirely sure of; confess you felt for him beyond a silly companionship. There were two paths set out for you. 

The first path was to deny. Deny that you have feelings for him and continue these little trysts. Hope that they continue for as long as they can and pray for mercy should he get bored of you. If you were lucky, you would end up like the previous women who shared a night with him and lose your position at the palace and be moved somewhere else – to some other rich person’s dwellings. It would not be so bad at the end of it all and you would have shared something special with someone; a moment of shared camaraderie on a level you never expected to have in your life. 

The second path was the one you wished to run down. You could say it there. Confess that your heart beats faster when he walks into a room. That now your favourite time of the day was visiting him in his chambers, talking, and falling asleep in one another’s arms. You wanted to say that each time he kissed you, it was like you were tasting Elysium. There was nothing else you wished to spend your days than in his arms. 

But that second path was even more unpredictable and greater than that; nothing but a stupid fantasy. 

Your place was as a servant, a slave. You were worth less than a single buckle on his clothing. 

That was why you gave him a soft smile to pretend everything was okay and recite words that felt like a stab in your heart, “I am content with my life. I would wish for nothing to change.” 

His face remained neutral, not giving away the same feeling you were experiencing: the sheer weight of his heart being crushed. He nodded and looked back at the carpet on the floor. His chin balanced on your shoulder and he appeared done with this conversation. 

You immediately wanted to take back your words. You wanted to scream out an answer, shout out the feelings that had been brewing in your body since he first summoned you into his room. You cared for him, you yearned for him. In some insane, unpredictable way, you believed you were beginning to love him. 

However it was futile, it was all too unlikely to end up well. 

And so you worked in silence with nothing but the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back and the rhythmic movements of your hands as they crafted; wishing, hoping, dreaming it could all be different.

The day had ended quickly with the beautiful soft glow of a setting sun. That evening you had dived into your work in the kitchens, cooking and forgetting about your troubles. For a brief time, it worked. However, every little thing began to remind you of him. The food that would be served to him, the colour of the olives not even coming close to the vibrancy of his eyes, even the taste of figs did not come close to the sweetness of his lips. Upon that realization, you had the urge to throw the bowl of figs at a wall but resisted. 

Commodus was so frustratingly consuming. He had made a home in you, wedged his way into the crevices of your skin and stuck to your bones until it was him that made your body move; made your body get up in the morning and decide to continue. 

That damned man. Why did he ever invite you into his room in the first place? 

The kitchen had long cleared out and you were now calm and eager to finish the last of the cleanup. You moved around the space on nothing but muscle memory, totally focused on the tasks that needed to be done. You were so focused, that you failed to see Attius lingering in the doorway, observing your movements. 

A few pots you were balancing fell to the ground and you moved to pick them up. Your knees hit the ground and you began to stack them. Sandaled feet moved into your vision and you halted your movements. Gradually, your vision moved upwards from your crouched position and you saw Attius staring down at you. His face was set into a scowl and his eyes were full of scrutiny. 

“You have failed me,” His voice broke you from your shock. You made a move to get up, but he held his hand out as a command for you to stay down, “You said you would get better, but your work has slacked more. That makes me angry… and you know what happens to those that make me angry.” 

“I’m sorry, master, truly. I-”

“I wish not to hear your excuses. How do you think such actions should be punished, hm?” Attius leaned back on one foot and tilted his head. 

The thought of begging made you want to hurl. You would sooner wish to spit at his feet than plead for mercy, but there was no other way for you to get out of this. Your head hung low, bowed towards him.

“Master, I humbly ask for mercy for my transgressions,” You put on the kindest tone you could, voice dripping in false sincerity. 

He bent over and gripped your chin to look up at him. He slowly made you rise to your feet, giving you a soft expression – a stark contrast to his personality just seconds ago. Once you had stood up, he still kept your chin in his hand. 

“You have always been such a good worker, just like your mother.” His words reassured you, if only for a moment, “Which is why this will hurt me just as much as it hurts you, but nothing must go unpunished.” 

The momentary ounce of relief you had washed away immediately. Before you could respond, a sharp stinging sensation hit your cheek and almost knocked you over. You hunched slightly and raised a hand to cover your cheek and recognized that he had hit you. 

You tried to back up and get away, but his hand reached out and gripped your tunic. He pulled you close to his face and whispered with unconcealed anger, “You will learn to obey.”

Each light dab against your cheekbone felt like needles piercing skin. You had endured Attius’ rage and had now spent the last hour in a small room where the slave healer lived. Cassius was an aging and withered man, unable to participate in heavy labour and had since taken it upon himself to aid the other servants when they became injured. He was kind and attentive to everyone and you remembered him healing your mother many times as a girl. 

After Attius had beaten you, you managed to crawl on your hands and knees down the hall and towards Cassius’ room. He immediately took you in and began assessing the damage. A large bruise had begun to form on your face that spanned from your cheekbone to the top of your temple on your right side. Your arms and legs were littered with other matching bruises, but what hurt most of all was your stomach which had been kicked multiple times. 

All of your wounds had been treated, save for a split lip and the bruise on your face which was now being assessed. 

“Some of the bruises should only take two weeks to heal, as they are not too terrible. The one on your stomach will likely take longer.” Cassius informed you as he pulled away from cleaning your face and put his blood-stained rag down. 

You let out a sigh, brain overwhelmed with information. Yet, all you could think about was Commodus and what he would think. You were already worried that any day he could grow bored and send you away – this would only solidify it. If you were covered in bruises, why would he ever find you attractive enough to keep? He would become tired of you before you could heal. 

Deep down, you wanted to think it would be different, but insecurities had always held a vice-like grip on your heart.  

“He can’t know,” You whispered to yourself.

“Who can’t know?” Cassius questioned. 

You rested your hands on your knees, “The emperor. He cannot know or he will send me away.” For a moment, you two were silent with nothing but a single flickering torch lighting the room. You knew you needed to bide time to heal. If there was a good enough explanation, a proper excuse, you could heal and pretend nothing had happened. 

That night, you were supposed to visit Commodus like every night prior. Except you could not this time and needed to figure out a plan. 

“Say that I am sick,” You got Cassius’ attention, “Inform him that I am ill and can not be visited by anyone out of risk of spread.” 

“You are asking me to lie to the emperor,” He confirmed. The way he framed it like that had you understanding the severity of it all. You were asking him to risk possibly his own life to cover up your injuries. 

“I’m sorry, Cassius. I should have never suggested it.” You let out a low sigh and stared off into the corner of the small room. You needed to come up with another plan quickly before Commodus began to wonder where you were. 

“I will do it,” He broke the silence, “I only hope you know what you are doing.” 

You wanted to leap out of your chair and hug him but restrained yourself. It would only make your body hurt more. You nodded in thanks to him. The pain had begun to set in as the adrenaline wore off and you found it difficult to move without causing enough pain to nearly immobilize your body. 

“Stay here for a while and rest. I will go and inform him of your absence.” Cassius opened his door and closed it gently, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

Your life, in only a few short weeks, had changed drastically from the regular routine you had come to love. The world you had grown up in was blending with a world you never should have touched in the first place. Yet you could not imagine it any other way, nor wanted to forget the memories you had made. 

Deeply, you wanted to think that your time with Commodus was more than temporary, but the lingering thoughts in your brain forced you to look at it negatively. With your feigned sickness, you could perhaps hope he forgets about you and does not have you sent away. Already you could barely handle severing your life from his – it hurt your heart more than the bruises on your body. Perhaps, if he forgot about you, you could still remain in the palace and not lose everything you had ever known. 

You leaned back in the chair and stared into the open flame of the torch, seemingly wishing that the fire could consume you whole. It would not hurt as nearly as the cracks deepening in your heart.

taglist: @scrumptiousloser

[itsasilentreader]

ᯓ★ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 – 𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: idol!Hwang Hyunjin x reader, established relationship

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚: Fluff

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 608

𝙏𝙒/𝘾𝙒: drinking wine, a long work week (lol)

𝘼/𝙉: I got inspired of my own life of the past few weeks. Ever since I have my new job, my bf has been doing small things to help me get back into a routine. He makes sure dinner is ready when I come home as my working hours are a little bit different than his and I just appreciate the small gestures so much.

⤷ 𝘏𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬

⋮ 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹����𝘀𝘁

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After months of applying for jobs, facing rejections, and trying again, you finally found a job you liked. Within a week of applying, you got the position.

Now you were on your way home after finishing the last shift of your first week. Your feet ached, the pain creeping into your lower back, and tiredness settled in as the day drew to a close. After being out of a routine for so long, you needed time to adjust to the rhythm of work again.

Opening your front door, you noticed the lights in your apartment were already on. You couldn’t remember leaving them on before heading out this morning, which could only mean Hyunjin was here.

You quickly kicked off your shoes and hung your jacket on the coat rack by the door. Practically shuffling from the hallway into the living room, you winced with each step as your heels throbbed painfully.

As you reached the living room, you stopped in your tracks, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you took in the scene before you.

The room was softly lit by candles, and rose petals were scattered across the living room floor. On the coffee table was a plate prepared with your favorite food, and beside it, a bottle of wine waiting to be opened.

The TV was on, paused on the next episode of the K-drama you’d been watching.

“Hi, my love,” Hyunjin emerged from the small kitchen with another plate in his hands—his own, you assumed.

“Babe, what is all this?” you murmured, muffled by his embrace as he wrapped his free arm around you and pulled you close. Relaxing into his warm hold, the familiar scent of his cologne helped melt away your fatigue.

He gently rubbed your back, filling you with warmth. “I just wanted to surprise you after your first week back at work,” he said softly, a smile gracing his pretty lips. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and motioned for you to sit on the couch.

“Do you want to change first? I got your favorite sweats out of the dryer,” Hyunjin offered, setting his plate down next to yours on the coffee table.

You nodded before heading to the bedroom. Even after all this time together, the small gestures Hyunjin made still made your heart beat faster.

Once you changed into your sweatpants and took off your makeup, you returned to the living room to join him for dinner and the next episode.

Settling down next to Hyunjin on the couch, he poured some wine into your glass, handing it to you along with your plate.

“Thank you, baby,” you murmured, giving him a soft smile before leaning forward to press your lips to his in a tender, sweet kiss.

“I’d do anything for you, my love. I figured you’d want to relax after your first week back, and I wanted to help,” he replied, giving you another quick peck. His eyes crinkled into half-moons, his gentle smile mirroring yours.

Moments like these made you grateful to have someone as supportive and caring as Hyunjin in your life. He’d taken time out of his schedule, packed with recording sessions and dance practice, just to make sure you were comfortable and relaxed.

After dinner, Hyunjin loaded the dishes into the dishwasher and returned with a second glass of wine for you. “Tell me about your first week. How did it go?” he asked, brushing a stray hair from your face.

And as the two of you cuddled on the couch, sharing stories from your first week, you realized that sometimes, the best comfort is simply being home—with him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Ⓒ︎ 𝗶𝘁𝘀𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵.

[seventiesweetheart]

hiii~ how do you feel about writing something about ghostface x reader (either billy or danny) inspired by "sweet serial killer" or "queen of disaster" or thag line from cinnamon girl "if he's a serial killer then what's the worst that can happen to a girl who is already hurt?" IDK I JUST WANT LANA DEL REY FT GHOSTFACE 😭

𓆩♱𓆪 sweet serial killer.

ghostface! billy loomis x fem! reader

INSPO. happiness is a butterfly by lana del rey | “if he’s a serial killer then what’s the worst that can happen to a girl who’s already hurt?”

WARNING. mentions of gore and violence. yandere billy. ghostface breaking into her house. manipulative behavior. fluff! no smut in this one :>

A/N. so sorry anon, this came in so late >< but i hope you like it !!

for a whole week, y/n has done nothing but cry and mourn the loss of her best friend, casey becker. she’s avoided coming to school cause the poor girl couldn’t stand not being able to see her in the hallways. no, she couldn’t bear it, even after her friends have insisted on her being there.

billy and stu were so determined to keep her company, always showing up with new movie rentals and her favorite comfort foods. they hated seeing the poor girl so broken, even if one of them do believe casey deserve what she got for constantly stealing y/n's attention away from him.

but no matter what billy and stu did, it was never enough to fill the void. the horrific image of her best friend's intestines strung around the tree outside her house haunted y/n. who would honestly do such a sick and cruel thing?

y/n sobbed uncontrollably at the thought, her body trembling as she wrapped herself tighter in her (fav color) fleece blanket. she curled up on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, feeling small and utterly alone. the dim glow of the tv cast flickering shadows on the walls, reflecting off the tear tracks on her cheeks, her eyes swollen and her nose red and runny.

it was already 1:00 a.m. on a saturday, and she remained wide awake in the dimly lit living room, staring blankly at the romcom billy had picked out for her. the lighthearted scenes on the screen felt like a mockery of her current state. but at least it kept her company.

her parents were out of town, too busy sailing away in some vacation beach while their daughter was drowning herself in her own misery. she would never admit it to her friends but it does get lonely isolating herself in her house. and it’s even more frightening to think that whoever killed her best friend still hasnt been caught. besides, who knows? she might be next—

suddenly, a loud ring pierced the quiet, making y/n jump slightly from her position.

who the hell would be calling at such an ungodly hour? the muffled noise from the tv only added to the eerie silence that she was now acutely aware of as the phone continued to ring incessantly.

with a slight pout, she realized the phone wasn’t going to answer itself. and so she mustered all her courage and stood from the couch. it was most likely just her parents checking in; they must be worried sick after hearing the news about the masked killer.

her soft knee-high socks touched the cold hardwood floor as she carefully padded toward the sound. realizing it was coming from the kitchen, she drew closer, the ringing growing louder with each step.

the kitchen was quieter and darker, the only light coming from the moon casting a glow through the window. with trembling hands, she reached out and picked up the phone situated on top of the counter, her pulse quickening at the unknown caller's silence on the other end.

"…hello?" her soft, timid voice asked as she waited for a response.

“hello, y/n.” the voice was low and gravelly, y/n fought hard not to end the call right then and there.

“w-who is this?”

“i’ll answer your question only if you answer mine first.”

y/n face twisted with confusion but she didn’t think too much about it. this is probably just a silly prank call, nothing serious.

“okay… what’s your question?”

the stranger paused a few seconds before finally asking, “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“i-i’m not really a fan of scary movies.” was the only reply y/n could come with cause it’s true. she despised them. plus, if anything, the recent events had only intensified her aversion to them.

“that’s ashame, never even seen a single one?” the voice prodded.

“nuh uh,” the girl shook her head even if she knew that the stranger obviously couldn’t see her right now.

the voice chuckled softly, “cute.”

“i already answered your question, so answer mine.” she doesn’t know where the courage to say that came from but she immediately bit down on her lip in fear of sounding too confrontational.

“that’s right! and here’s your answer, sweetheart,” the call ends abruptly and all she’s left with is the beeping noise of the telephone.

furrowing her brows, she slowly puts the device back down onto the charging station, unsure of what to make of the conversation. but she decides to push it out of her mind as she backs slowly from the where the phone was.

but suddenly, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth, cutting off her gasp. her eyes widened in shock as she felt a sharp metal press threateningly against her throat.

“make a sound and i’ll gut you up just like your poor best friend.” the voice behind whispered menacingly.

y/n couldn’t stop the flood of tears from pouring as she felt the arm around her and the solid chest behind her guide her out of the kitchen. a warm breath brushed against the back of her ear and down the side of her exposed neck as she weakly tried to clutch onto the hand that was still holding the knife.

of course, billy wasn’t actually going to cut her up. he wouldn’t even place a single scar on the poor girl’s skin. he just needed to threaten her enough to make sure she complied with whatever he wanted. and right now what he wanted was to guide her back to where she was and keep her wrapped possessively in his arms.

“i’m going to let go of your mouth now, sweetheart. but you better not scream, understood?” he warned carefully.

he unwrapped his hand from her mouth, revealing her flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face. billy couldn’t help but pause to admire her vulnerable appearance as she weakly leaned against his chest, her angelic eyes brimming with tears and wetting her fluttery lashes.

her pouty, petal-soft lips looked so dangerously tempting. in that moment, billy felt a primal urge to claim them, to stain them with his blood soaked violence, a violence so diametrically opposed to her sweet innocence.

but he couldn’t bring himself to taint her with his darkness—not when she looked so fragile and dainty in his arms.

© 2024 seventiesweetheart | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hello, thank you for writing the imagine, I loved it so much, I came to torment you again and ask if you could write another one? *3* Hannigram x reader, some hilarious situation where they get jealous but the reader doesn't notice lol which ends up resulting in a smut hihi

Hey again!! ❤️ not a torment at all, thanks for requesting once more!! Im soooo excited for this i havent written much jealousy for them!!!!

———

After the final guest of Hannibal’s dinner party had finally left, you felt like you could breathe once again. It had been a long night of both entertaining and running around to make sure things went smoothly.

Your heels came off first, and you groaned with relief. You had been so wrapped up with everything that you hadn’t noticed Will or Hannibal brooding for the last hour.

What caused their ill humor was a burning jealousy, but not one you had consciously caused. Instead, Dr. Chilton was to blame.

My, you two, I did not think you would show off your conquest so… brazenly. But I cannot say I blame you. That sort of beauty is best admired up close, don’t you think?

And lo and behold, they had seen him introducing himself to you later on. They couldn’t hear your conversation, but they still noticed his efforts to make you laugh. Still, they didn’t want to cause a scene.

On your end of things, Frederick had been charming but respectful, just another one of Hannibal and Will’s acquaintances that you didn’t think much of. You were unaware of just how much he liked getting a rise out of your partners, simply because it amused him.

You found them in the kitchen, Hannibal putting away wine glasses while Will leaned against the counter nursing glass of scotch. You approached him with a tired but content smile, intent on undoing his tie for him.

He observed you quietly for a moment, a muscle in his jaw still twitching with leftover tension.

“Long night, I know,” you said, misreading his expression. “My social battery’s completely drained, too.”

“Some people were enjoying themselves perhaps too much,” Hannibal said. “You stirred much interest.”

“Me?” You said, confused. “Well, I was trying to be a good hostess.”

“A very beautiful one, at that,” Will added.

You blushed a little, grinning. “I did get some compliments here and there.”

He made a hmph sound and in the next moment, he drew you in for a kiss. You chuckled softly, now understanding the possessiveness of his action.

Hannibal set down the glasses and approached as well. Without breaking the kiss with Will, you reached back for him.

But instead of letting you bring him closer, he kneeled behind you.

“What’s gotten into you!?” You gasped as Hannibal yanked down your panties, hiking up your dress.

“I have to have you,” he rasped. “I need your taste.”

He was usually the less frantic of the two, but it seemed his composure had been thrown out the window. To see him like that ignited something deep in your core.

Will grasped your chin and brought your lips back to his. You moaned into his mouth at the first swipe of Hannibal’s tongue.

Jealousy always led to their passionate reclaiming of you, and you were already aware that you had a long, long night ahead of you. Perhaps you would have to find ways to make it happen more often.

——

[mattslolita]

come thru - m. sturniolo

warnings ; fingering , oral ( female receiving ) , slight!dom!matt

"you make wanna come thru, quarter after two, just to put it down on you."

you invited your best friends over for a movie night, like you had done since you guys had been friends since you were all younger — it was a tradition amongst you all, every weekend you guys rotated between yours and the triplets house.

right now, they had just arrived at your house, and you already laid out all the movie options for them. chris immediately made a beeline for your fridge, causing you to shake your head and roll your eyes.

"chris, you realize i'd like to actually have a pepsi for myself for once, right?" you said, turning to follow the boy into the kitchen. "you always raid them all."

"yet you keep buying them for me," chris grinned, and you leaned over the counter and shook your head at him.

you were just in an over sized ransom tee that belonged to matt and some short shorts underneath — it was quite common that you wore these types of clothes around them, so it wasn't unusual. though you had to admit, wearing a borrowed shirt from matt was making you hope he would notice.

you were definitely good at hiding it, but the feelings you've had for matt were growing even more by the day — the way he'd playfully flirt with you sometimes of course was making matters worse, and you wondered if there was a chance matt might have felt the same way as you.

now with all the snacks in tow, everyone went to their designated spots in the living room — chris was in the chair closest to the tv, whilst nick took the loveseat and decided on spreading out all over it. you and matt took the sofa, and he placed his arm behind the chair.

you could feel your cheeks get warm at the action even though he was always doing stuff like this. you tried to play it off by letting a small sigh escape your lips, and bringing your sprite can up to your lips to take a sip.

matt noticed the sigh and turned to you with a raised eyebrow. "you good?" he whispered in your ear as he leaned over.

your breath hitched and you clenched your legs together, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "i'm alright."

thankfully the movie had already started, and you found yourself more interested in it. but as the movie went on, you couldn't help but subtly look over at matt from time to time — his blue eyes were focused on the movie unlike yours currently, and you swore you were about to go crazy at the way one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk when a funny scene came on.

your eyes then roved over his tattooed arm all the way down to his ring clad hands, finding yourself wondering how good they would feel inside you.

and that's where you drew the line.

you stood up quickly, already feeling yourself become hot and bothered, causing all three of the triplets to look up at you in confusion.

"the movie's not even done yet," nick commented, and you shot him a weary smile.

"yeah i know, i'm just...not feeling too good," you lied.

"what's wrong?" matt asked with furrowed eyebrows, and you waved him off.

"oh it's nothing, i'm just kinda tired," you lied again, "i'm just gonna go up to my room and lay down for a bit."

"you want me to come up there with you?" matt asked, beginning to stand up.

"no!" you answered quickly with wide eyes, causing his eyebrows to furrow, "sorry...i'm good, though. y'all finish the movie and just clean up when you're done. you can crash here for the night if you don't feel like driving back home, matt."

chris just shrugged and stuffed his face with some chips whilst nick nodded sympathetically and blew you a friendly good night kiss — matt watched you as you walked upstairs quickly, before he turned his attention back to the movie playing.

once you got into your room, the first thing you did was close your door and let out a big sigh, then you went to dim your lights and turn on some music — the triplets already knew you went to sleep with music for the most part, but sleep wasn't exactly what you needed the music for.

you sat back on your bed as you pulled your shorts off of yourself and slowly ran a hand over your lace underwear, feeling the slight wetness. throwing your head back, you closed your eyes and thought of matt, causing a small moan to slip from your lips.

"fuck..." you sighed, picturing matt as you rubbed circles around your clit, biting your lip to suppress a moan.

you completely ditched your underwear as you continued rubbing circles around your clit, imagining matt's voice in your ear telling you how good of a girl you were being for him.

a slightly louder moan escaped your mouth but you were too caught up in the feeling to care. "fuck, matt..."

"woah."

the sound of matt's voice caused you to gasp loudly as he stood there with his jaw slightly dropped, looking at you in shock and — amusement?

your cheeks burned as you found yourself wanting to fall off the face of the earth. "um...how much of that did you witness?"

"enough, actually," matt said, a slight smirk appearing on his features as he walked into your room and closed the door behind him. "so i'm who you think about when you touch yourself, y/n?"

now your cheeks burned even more as matt watched you with an amused expression, and you found yourself unable to form words. embarrassment filled your body at what just happened. "this is so embarrassing, what the fuck."

you hung your head as you felt the bed dip in front of you — matt lifted your chin with his index finger, prompting you to look up at him. "don't be embarrassed, sweetheart. all you had to do was ask for some help."

a low gasp was about to escape your lips before matt crashed his onto yours, silencing whatever sound was to come out of your mouth next — your tongues battled for dominance but you let matt do all the exploring in your mouth.

as he continued kissing you his tattooed arm went down to race circles on your thighs, causing a small whimper to escape your lips. a smirk resided on matt's features against your lips.

he began tracing circles near your inner thighs, causing you to whimper again at the way he was teasing you — his ring clad hand finally found its way in between your thighs, as he rubbed your folds back and forth.

"matt, please," you begged, "please touch me."

"what's that, baby?" matt whispered in your ear, running a hand ever so teasingly over your folds, "you want me to touch you?"

unable to form words at how crazy he was driving you, you just nodded with a little whimper — without warning, matt shoved one of his ringed fingers inside you, causing you to let out a loud whine.

"oh matt..." you moaned out, as he repeatedly pumped his finger in and out of you, "fuck..."

"look at you, fucking my finger like the needy slut you are," matt whispered into your ear, placing a kiss on your neck, "you like it when i touch you like this, don't you?"

"fuck, i really do matt," you whined, as he added another ringed finger inside of you just then.

the pace of his fingers sped up inside you, repeatedly hitting your g spot as you arched your back to give him more access — moans and whimpers repeatedly escaped your mouth as matt continued working his magic inside you, then you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach.

"matt, i'm close," you whimpered out, as he still left kisses along your neck, "i'm gonna cum."

matt stopped with his fingers inside you and took them out, causing you to look at him with furrowed eyebrows — with a grin he licked your arousal off of his fingers causing you to bite your lip as he spread your thighs and pushed your stomach back.

"i want you to cum all over me, sweetheart."

you felt your pussy pulsate at the way matt looked at you hungrily, as he peppered kisses along your thighs — he left small kisses on your folds causing you to whine out. "matt, don't tease me..."

he smirked up at you then shoved his tongue inside you, nipping and sucking on your clit. you moaned out at the feeling, arching your hips upward as he maintained eye contact with you while lapping up your pussy.

"fuck y/n, you taste so fucking good," matt groaned as he came up momentarily, his lips covered in your juices.

your hand went down to tug at his hair as he continued eating you out, and you felt the feeling in your stomach yet again. "oh my gosh, matt i'm gonna..."

"give it to me, baby," matt breathed, "cum all over me."

you released all over matt's face, a plethora of moans and a string of curses leaving your lips as your grip on his hair tightened slightly — matt lapped up all your juices, coming up from between your legs and grinning down at you, his face coated in your arousal.

"you have no idea how bad i've wanted to do that," matt breathed out, as he fell down on your bed beside you.

you had finally caught your breath from the mind blowing orgasm and upon realizing what he just said, your cheeks heated. "you should've been done that."

matt turned to the side and smirked at you. "so does that mean you'll let me more often?"

"if it's gonna feel that good every time, then hell yeah," you giggled, "let's just hope nick and chris don't freak out."

( i hope you enjoyed this my loves, sorry for not posting the past two days ! i love you all, muah💌 )

[funkii4-blog]

SMG34 In 2024: A Recap Essay

(all text, no images aside from cover below)

This is extremely long since we got fed pretty well this year, so be prepared to read 3000 words of pure insanity from my silly little brain :))

14x01: Mario Opens A Can Of Beans

Not much to begin with as 3 appears very little in this episode, but about two thirds of the way through he's seen stopping by the castle to ask 4 if he can borrow some sugar. Which is funny since he literally owns a cafe next door to the castle lol

14x02: You Used To Be Cool

Oh boy, this one was a real kicker for being so early in the year, specifically for its second half.  

During the scene where 3 is attempting to torture Depresso, we get a short sequence of him thinking back on memories with his friends; playing Garry’s Mod with Mario, Meggy’s heart-to-heart with him in IGBP, and with 4... Snowtrapped?! This is of course the infamous episode from all the way back in 2016 in which the two got rather intimate with each other, so it’s wild that that is what he thought of with 4 first after everything they’ve been through together.

A little later, in an attempt to get 3 to show he’s still a villain (which he isn’t), Eggman tasks him with killing 4 as his final test. When 3 is told to do this, we can instantly see the unease and regret in 3’s reaction; and it’s made clear that he doesn’t want to do this. Over the last year's worth of episodes up to this point, 3 and 4’s bond had improved drastically; it’d been long established by this point that the two are friends now. 

We then see him in his room holding the gun shakily, visibly terrified; he knows he can’t do this, but he also wants to prove himself to Eggman and is torn. He has another sequence of looking back on memories with 4; the moment he finally declared they were friends at the edge of the Demon Pit, their sweet moment under the sunrise (sunset? Idk I just say it’s the morning following the casino heist) as he drew the two of them in his notebook, and as far back as during the Cosmology saga when they only first started to bond. 

He hits a practice target on his wall and starts boasting about how he “finally has a reason to kill that bozo”, but Eggdog is quick to confront what we already know: 3 cares about 4 and doesn’t actually want to hurt him. And while we can’t understand what Eggdog is saying, I think it’s pretty likely he was giving 3 a hard time about how he actually has a crush on 4, to which 3 ignores and leaves the room. 

Cut to the next day when 3 goes to perform the act; he walks into the kitchen where 4 is, raising the gun and saying a dark monologue (presumably knowing Eggman is listening in). He apologizes for this (something I highly doubt he would have done just a year before), and we get a cut to the window being splattered. We of course know he didn’t actually do it, but they still pull this fakeout on us; 3 actually shot the tomato meme that 4 had on the counter to trick Eggman. 

He says he was actually considering killing him “like usual” (which we know isn’t true anymore), to which 4 cries. Eggman then tries to attack the two of them; he initially aims at 3, who is unfazed by this. However, he switches his aim to 4, causing 3 to immediately panic and take down Eggman himself to avoid 4 getting hit. 

The episode ends with 3 setting his hand on the back of the still-crying 4, who is mourning the death of his tomato meme, as he monologues again; this time it’s about how he’s realized he doesn't need to prove how evil he is and that he’s happy with the people around him. 

14x03: CEO Of Rizz

4 doesn't appear in this episode, but I still wanted to note something in this one to come back to later. This episode is about 3 helping Boopkins with his televised date while trying to boost the cafe’s popularity, and there’s a scene early on where 3 goes over gift ideas. He ultimately settles on a creepy Mickey Mouse sculpture, claiming it to be a perfect gift to give a date. 

14x06: Trash Friends

This one also has a lot to cover, so buckle up ;)

3 is currently under a lot of stress, as his recently opened cafe is having a rough start and seemingly failing. 4 runs to him, also upset about supposedly losing an important endorsement he received. When 3 is confused, 4 proceeds to grab him by the face and pull him close in order to use his powers & project a memory of him losing the endorsement onto 3. He begs 3 for his help, claiming it’s because they’re friends and friends help each other.  

4 then urgently claims he needs this endorsement to become popular; we then see 3 getting an idea to take the endorsement for the cafe, but I also like to think he wanted to get it out of 4’s hands to keep him from growing power hungry over his popularity again. He did put a camera in 4’s room to make sure he didn’t go insane again after the whole perfect video fiasco, after all; he wants to look out for him and make sure there isn't a repeat of that. 

Getting this idea, 3 gets 4 to warm up to him via the “buddy chum pal” bit (the exact same way 4 did to him all the way back in Are You Okay). The two of them along with Mario then go to the trash dump to retrieve the endorsement, and classic star trio chaos ensues. 

The two guardians split up and spend hours trying to find Mario, having walkie-talkie conversations in between. 4 asks about the business, to which 3 lies and says thing are going well. When they join back up and 4 sees 3 trying to open a blocked door, 3 panics and says he’s just trying to open the door for him. 

Something interesting happens after that: when 4 is talking, 3 dissociates and ends up imagining 4 belittling him in a way that expresses 3’s fears: specifically, his fears of being inferior to the other (“worse version of you”) and being forgotten. This isn’t confirmed, but I've seen it theorized that the only opinion that matters to 3 is 4’s (with vice versa also possible). 

Once they find Mario, they fight over him as they both try to claim the drive with the endorsement on it, 3 avoiding telling 4 the truth as long as he can. 

The fight eventually goes too far, with 4 calling 3 selfish since he doesn’t understand why 3 wants it so badly. This causes 3 to snap and have a breakdown, admitting his business is struggling severely and how he feels as if he’s the worse version of 4. This makes 4 realize that 3 is struggling a lot more emotionally than he let on, leading to him deciding to give 3 the endorsement willingly.

14x08: SMG4 And SMG3 Rank SMG4 Characters

And here we are, the first of the 3 & 4 improv episodes. I know it’s debated whether these can be considered, but since they consist of Luke & James (4 & 3’s VAs) having in-character improvised conversations, I still want to bring them up. 

A general frequent aspect of these episodes is the two joking around and generally getting along better, which is nice to see. Usually aside from serious moments, we just see them bickering like the rivals they used to be to each other. We also can see loving glances exchanged from time to time in these episodes’ animation portions. 

14x12: Once Upon An SMG4

I only have one note for this one and it won’t make sense unless you’ve watched The Cuphead Show since it’s a parallel to a scene in that, but I still want to talk about it.

After 3’s song at the beginning, he asks aloud “whoever shall be my sugar daddy?” (yes, that’s actually what he said word for word). There proceeds to immediately be a cut to 4 in his lair. This instantly reminded me of the scene in the Cuphead Show episode “Down & Out”, where King Dice claims there's just one thing missing from the revival of his career; there proceeds to be a camera pan downward to The Devil going about his business in hell. Another thing that likely won’t be known by non-Cuphead fans is that the ship between King Dice and The Devil (at least within the show, idk about the game) is semi-canon: They don’t get together in the media itself, but the team behind the show as well as the two’s voice actors have repeatedly expressed their support of the ship. And based on various events the ship between 3 and 4 can easily also be considered semi-canon... :3 

S14 Movie: Puzzlevision

I think it’s safe to say all the good stuff from this chapter of the PV saga was reserved for this movie, because there’s once again a lot to cover here. So here we go! 

The first of many parodies covered in this movie is of SpongeBob with, pretty fittingly to their characters, 4 as SpongeBob and 3 as Squidward. I know this was likely just done to fit the character roles, but you know I can’t help but note that the ship between SpongeBob and Squidward is also very popular within its own fandom. 

Throughout the movie, the two are seen being notably defensive and protective of each other in the presence of Puzzles, moreso 3 of 4. 

Once the gang is split up into different channels after the song, 3 and 4 are of course put together. The first parody they have to face is Rugrats. When 3 is grabbed, 4 doesn’t hesitate to spring into action and save him. 3 responds with a vulnerable “You saved me!” before going tsundere and calling 4 a baka (surprisingly the only time this running gag was used this year). 

After escaping that channel, they land in a parody of the Titanic film. They spot the portal to the next channel high up in the air above the ship, but neither can reach it on their own. 4 suggests he lifts 3 up to reach it, which 3 hesitantly agrees. The two proceed to reenact one of the most well-known romance scenes in all of cinema, with 3 becoming entranced by the beauty of the view around them as he’s held up by 4, embracing the moment before 4 throws him into the portal. 

14x15: SMG4 And SMG3 Design A Mascot Horror

When discussing game genres to implement, there’s a visual at around the 7:30 mark where 3 (dressed as their game’s mascot) pins 4 against a wall in a flirty manner. 

A bit later when narrowing down mechanics to use, for a split second after 3 & 4 agree to keep the romance aspect, Mario holds up a sign that says “Hi Twitter”. 

14x16: SMG4 Doesn't Meme For 1 Second

I’m not a fan of revisiting this episode, but I’ll do what I must in this case... 

After 4 is sent away, 3 is one of the first to acknowledge that he misses the other’s antics, looking on fondly as he says it made the gang’s lives more exciting. He is also the one to initiate a plan to retrieve 4 from the facility, aggressively knocking on the door when they get there to reach Mr. Niceguy. Much like everyone else, 3 is horrified when he sees how different 4 is when they see him again, attempting to snap him out of it with memes,

14x19: SMG4 Simulator

In the fishing minigame scene, when 4 fishes up 3, it says 3 is worth –100 points; however, 3 has a gold & sparkly aura around him that’s typically reserved for the best items in those types of games; additionally, the 0:34 mark on the minigame timer is skipped. I’ve also seen it theorized that this moment could represent 4 pushing away potential romantic feelings he may have for 3. 

Shortly after, 3 is seen sitting next to 4 as he grows sad over not having the reality from the ASMR video he’s listening to, telling him to do something productive before walking away. 4 contemplates briefly before deciding to listen to his advice. 

Toward the end of the episode, he’s shown to have a bootleg plush of 3 in his inventory. 

14x20: Mario's Plane Trip

3 doesn’t appear in this episode, but this is where my note from CEO of Rizz comes in! 

When 4 is getting his luggage scanned, it can be seen that one of the items inside is the creepy Mickey sculpture from before, that 3 described as a great gift for a date. One of 3’s signature bombs is also inside the suitcase. 

In a scene much later in the episode, 4 and Swag have a heart-to-heart about loved ones back home; in this conversation, Swag mentions his spouse. 4 then pulls a locket out and says he has someone waiting back home as well, but the scene is interrupted by Mario before we can see the picture inside. As you can imagine, a lot of people have theorized that 3’s picture is in that locket.

14x27: SMG4 And SMG3 Shop For Cursed Items

It’s a small visual detail but when settling on a gift for Tari, they do a cute high five. 

14x28: Mario Gets Stuck as a GIF 

When Mario loses control and starts to spin around the cafe, 3 quickly pulls 4 under the front counter with him to keep him from getting hurt. 

When 4 is scanning data of 3 in the HQ computer, 3 takes note of how 4 makes the model of him (“Do I really look like that from the back?”), even checking himself out to compare after. 

14x33: Mario Loses His Mustache 

Before the competition, 3 and 4 attempt to conspire to rig it in Mario’s favor; however, this is quickly shut down by Puzzles. 

14x34: SMG4 Theory 

Barely worth noting, but 4 is seen imagining Snowtrapped as he asks if every episode is a dream. 

14x35: SMG4 & SMG3 Come Up with an Episode 

The episode begins with 4 bursting into 3’s room while he sleeps, asking if he’s ready to “make magic”. He then proceeds to ask afterward what he’s doing in 3’s bed (which, mind you, was an improvised line from Luke). 

When 3 asks why 4 needs his help making an episode, 4 responds with telling him that his videos need spice that he thinks 3 can provide, even calling him the rosemary to his bread.  

This is definitely purely coincidental since this line was also improvised, but the rosemary plant has represented love since ancient times, being believed to reveal a person's true love. 

When 4 agrees that 3 should be a main part of the episode, the official sticker of 3 blushing is stuck onto his face. 

The episode they come up with was eventually made, but no, I won't be covering it. 

14x38: Welcome to Puzzle Park 

When Mario is thrown back by the force of Leggy’s yells, it almost seems as if 3 and 4 are leaning on each other on the sofa. 

When 3 sees Luigi get pulled into a portal and realizes something is wrong, his first instinct is to find 4 & Mario and tell them to run. He fails to reach them before getting taken himself, but texts 4 a warning in the last moments beforehand; it’s also seen they both have joke-insult nicknames for each other in their phones. Just a couple years prior 3 would never have taken time to warn anyone and would just have saved himself, showing how far his development has come. 

On top of that, I've seen it guessed that the reason 3 looked so mortified when he saw Luigi get taken was because it gave him flashbacks to seeing 4 get pulled back into the castle in IGBP, hence his immediate action to help 4 get away. 

14x42: Mario Gets Stuck In Traffic

Though they are seen bickering on their way, it’s commonly joked by fans in the shipping community that their trip together to the forklift convention could be seen as a date. 

14x43: The Mario PC Virus

Okay, there’s only a couple notes for this one, but they’re big and important ones. 

When the Crocker virus entities are scavenging through 4’s computer, one of them digs through a folder on his desktop titled ‘Super-Secret Spicy Memes’. It pulls one out, showing 3 traced over a Grimace meme with the text “what’s the matter smg4-kun"; it proceeds to scream the “I know what you are” line from the English dub of Chainsaw Man at 4 over it. It should be noted that that audio bit is commonly used as a joke to tell someone that you know that they’re queer. On top of the meme bring flirtatious in nature and being in a secretive folder, it’s entirely likely that this goofy five-second bit actually indirectly confirms 4’s already-suspected crush on 3. 

When Bonzi’s power destroys the computer’s data, the video projections of 3 and 4 hug somberly as they’re erased; this is the first time that they've been seen emotionally hugging. It’s notably much more romantic in nature compared to a normal hug too, with their foreheads touching and one of each of their hands interlocked. 

Ben, the show’s thumbnail artist, also followed up with a tweet saying “they gay fr :3"  

Late addition, but in the merch sale community post video the day before 14x45, 4’s drawing could be seen taped to a page of 3’s notebook. 

14x46: Luigi Doesn’t Need Mario 

In the scene where the gang is at the hospital, the angle at which they’re shown makes it look like 3 and 4 are holding hands at Mario’s bedside. 

And that's everything! This year may have been a really rough one for the show, but I think it's safe to say the shippers were done a great service throughout. Hopefully the hints keep coming in 2025! (and possibly even them finally becoming canon? please?? it's clear the team loves to play with their dynamic in a romantic way, if they truly want to make it happen then just do it!!! /silly)

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

When the Tide Turns | Rafe Cameron

summary: the one where rafe is in love with his bestfriend’s sister

warnings: none i believe

word count: 4,212

——————————————

Rafe Cameron was never one for introspection. He preferred to live in the now, to act without hesitation, to indulge in whatever fleeting desires life offered. That was, until her. He knew it was a bad idea. He’d known it from the very first time he saw her — leaning against the railing of the Cameron family’s porch, laughing at something Kelce had said, her dark skin glowing golden in the afternoon sun. Her eyes, dark and deep like the night sky, shone with a curious mischief. He had caught himself staring, unable to look away, even as his best friend and the rest of the group continued their chatter around him.

"Rafe, you good?" Kelce had asked, snapping Rafe out of his daze.

Rafe had forced a smile, masking the turmoil inside. "Yeah, just thinking about something."

But that was the first time it hit him—he was in trouble.

He had tried to ignore it, told himself it was a phase, a simple crush that would fade. After all, Kelce was his best friend. He had known him for years. The thought of jeopardizing that bond for some fleeting attraction was beyond stupid. But every time he saw her, he couldn’t help it. The flutter in his chest when she looked at him. The way her laughter made everything else in the world fade into the background. He wasn’t used to feeling this way. In fact, he had never really felt this way about anyone. Rafe wasn’t the type to pine. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in anything more than a quick fling or a simple hookup. But with her? It was different. And that scared him.

It was the summer before their senior year of college and the Cameron beach house was filled with the usual chaos. The Outer Banks was at its peak tourist season, and the group of friends was used to spending most of their time down by the water. Rafe and his buddies, , had spent the day surfing and lounging in the sand, while the girls — and of course , Nia — had stayed behind at the house to cool off and relax. Nia was Kelce’s older sister, the one he’d always mentioned in passing but rarely brought around. She was a couple of years older than Rafe and the rest of the gang, which made her seem like this mysterious figure who was always out of reach. But Rafe had always noticed her. He wasn’t blind. She had this effortless elegance, something so unbothered about her presence that it drew people in.

And yet, she never seemed to be the type to crave attention. Her quiet confidence was intoxicating.

Nia had always been a little different from the others. The group would go out, get into trouble, and she’d hang back, listening to music or reading, never making a scene. She was insanely beautiful, almost too beautiful to be true. That was probably part of the reason why Rafe was so drawn to her—she didn’t *need* the attention. She wasn’t one to beg for validation. She simply was. But that afternoon, she was standing by the kitchen counter, wearing a flowy sundress that caught the late afternoon light. Her hair was braided loosely, a few strands framing her face, and she was making something to drink, humming to herself.

Rafe found himself watching her again. The way her fingers curled around the glass, the faint smile on her lips as she adjusted the jug of lemonade—he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was so beautiful, and yet so effortless about it. She wasn’t trying to be, and that made her even more captivating. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Kelce’s voice calling from the door.

"Yo, Rafe! Earth to Cameron!"

Rafe snapped back to reality, turning around with a sheepish grin. "Yeah?"

Kelce raised an eyebrow, following Rafe’s gaze and grinning. "You’ve been staring at my sister for, like, ten minutes, bro. You good?"

Rafe’s heart skipped. The last thing he needed was Kelce noticing, but there was no denying the tension in the air. "I’m fine," he said quickly, his tone more clipped than he intended. "Just... zoning out."

Kelce chuckled, but Rafe could see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Just don’t make it weird, man," he teased, stepping inside. "She’s a lot to handle."

Rafe couldn’t help but grin mischievously , though his stomach twisted at the thought of handling Nia. It was a dangerous game to play. A game or two never hurt anybody. Kelce leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She’s way out of your league anyway."

Rafe bristled. "You don’t know that."

Kelce shrugged, his expression growing more serious, knowing his sister. "Trust me, I do."

Rafe wondered what he meant by that.

——————————————

Later that evening, the group gathered around the fire pit. The sun had set, and the sky was painted in hues of purple and orange as the waves crashed in the distance. Everyone was lounging on chairs, drinking beers, telling stories, and joking around, but Rafe couldn’t seem to relax. He kept glancing over at Nia, who sat a little further off, watching the fire with an enigmatic expression. The way she was sitting—her legs crossed, her chin resting in her hand—looked almost too perfect. And then, when she caught him staring again, she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled.

A slow, knowing smile. She was baiting him. Rafe felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He looked away quickly, trying to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was too late. The pull between them, that silent acknowledgment, was too strong. He could feel it in the air, thick and suffocating.

"Yo, Rafe, you gonna sit with us, or are you just gonna stare at my sister all night?" Kelce’s voice rang out, loud and unashamed. The entire group laughed, but Rafe’s heart was pounding in his chest. This wasn’t good. He was spiraling, and he had no idea how to stop it. Nia’s voice interrupted the chaos, light and teasing. "Don’t worry, Kelce. Rafe’s probably just thinking about how to ask me out."

Rafe froze. The words hung in the air, as though they had a weight of their own. The fire crackled, the sound of the ocean filling in the silence that followed.

Kelce shot Rafe a look that was half amused, half suspicious. "You’re not really thinking about that, are you?"

Rafe stood up, his pulse racing. "I—"

Before he could say anything more, Nia’s soft laughter rang out, cutting him off. "I’m just messing with you, Rafe."

The tension in his chest didn’t loosen, though. If anything, it only made the moment more awkward, more uncertain.

It wasn’t long after that evening that things between Rafe and Nia started to shift. There was a subtle change in the air whenever they were in the same room. The awkwardness faded, replaced by a comfortable tension that both of them could feel but neither dared to acknowledge. They spent more time together, often alone, without the group around. The first time it happened was when Rafe found himself alone in the kitchen, trying to fix his broken surfboard. Nia appeared out of nowhere, leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in her hands, watching him in that quiet way she did.

"You need help with that?" she asked, voice low but full of humor.

Rafe shook his head, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. "I think I’ve got it, thanks."

She leaned closer, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty good with tools, among other things."

The way she said it made Rafe’s stomach flip. His mind raced, unsure of whether he was imagining things, or if Nia was actually flirting with him. But before he could respond, she disappeared, her laughter trailing behind her.

—————————

It had been three weeks since Rafe Cameron first realized he was in over his head. Three weeks since the day Nia had arrived at the beach house, laughing at something Kelce had said, with that effortlessly cool vibe of someone who didn’t care about anything but enjoying the moment. From the first moment Rafe saw her, something in him shifted. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything felt different now.

But Nia wasn’t the type to make a scene. She was quietly confident, always in the background, like she had nothing to prove. It was that quiet strength that drew him in, but also made him feel like he was chasing something out of his reach. She wasn’t like the other girls he’d been with—more than just a pretty face with a smile that lit up a room. Nia had this presence, this calm, but also a mysterious, guarded aura that Rafe couldn’t shake. And the worst part? She seemed oblivious. At least, that’s what he told himself. Part of him hoped she knew the things he wanted to do to her, the way he thought about her. Kelce would lose it.

Rafe didn’t talk about his feelings. He didn’t have feelings, at least not for anyone who wasn’t a fleeting distraction. But Nia… she made him question everything. Every lingering glance, every laugh that vibrated in his chest, every time she brushed by him so close he could smell the coconut oil in her hair—it was like a spark in the dry kindling of his usual indifference. The fire was building, and he was terrified that it would burn everything to the ground.

---

The tension between Rafe and Nia wasn’t something that could be pinpointed on a single day. It was a slow, gradual thing, like the rising tide inching toward the shore, barely noticeable at first, but inevitable. Every time she smiled at him, Rafe felt that pull—a magnet drawing him in, an invisible thread weaving between them. And every time he caught her looking at him, her gaze lingering just a beat longer than necessary, his heart would skip in a way he’d never felt before. It was during those quiet moments that the tension truly began to take shape. No one else seemed to notice it. Kelce, his boys, and the rest of the group were too wrapped up in their own drama, too carefree to see what was happening. But Rafe couldn’t ignore it.

The first real turning point came one afternoon when Rafe found himself alone with Nia in the kitchen. It had been a long day of surfing, and most of the group had scattered to do their own thing—Kelce had disappeared to the beach to meet some friends, and the others were lounging in the living room. Rafe had made himself a sandwich, but the sound of the blender whirring stopped him in his tracks. Nia was at the counter, her back to him, slicing fruit for a smoothie. The low hum of the blender and the soft rustle of her movements were oddly soothing, and Rafe found himself standing there, watching her. She was wearing a simple tank top with no bra and shorts, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. The way her hands moved, so purposeful and graceful, made him feel like he was witnessing something intimate—something private. Rafe didn’t mean to stare. But he couldn’t help it. There was something about her that pulled him in. His breath hitched once he seen the jewelry around her nipples.

Nia turned, catching his gaze. The air between them thickened. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smile. "You need something?" she asked, her voice casual but with a hint of something deeper—something teasing. Rafe cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how awkward he must look. "Just… watching the magic happen," he muttered, his words coming out rougher than he’d intended. Nia’s smile grew wider, and she leaned against the counter, studying him. "You know," she said slowly, "you’ve been acting a little… off lately."

Rafe stiffened. "Off?"

"Yeah. Staring into space, zoning out during conversations. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve got this… look in your eyes." She paused, and the playful edge to her voice softened. "Like you’re thinking about something. Or someone."

Rafe swallowed hard. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Had she noticed? Had she known all along?

He forced a chuckle, trying to brush it off. "Nah, just tired. Been surfing all day."

But Nia didn’t look convinced. Her eyes never left him, and there was a knowing quality to her gaze that made his insides twist.

"Okay," she said slowly, dragging out the word. "But you don’t have to act so weird around me, Rafe. I’m not gonna bite."

The way she said it sent a ripple of heat through him. The teasing tone, the way her voice dipped just slightly at the end—was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just his imagination running wild. But even then, that seed was planted. He couldn't shake the feeling that the tension between them had shifted just a little. Maybe she was picking up on something too. Maybe she was playing with him, testing the waters. But whatever it was, it was undeniably there, and it was dangerous.

————————————-

The days that followed were a blur of stolen moments and heavy silences. There were no direct confessions—no grand gestures, no open acknowledgment of the pull that seemed to grow between them. Instead, it was the little things. The way Nia would brush against him when she passed him in the hallway, always so close, always so deliberate. The way her eyes would meet his across a crowded room, and for just a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She bent over in front of him any chance she got, wearing skirts most of the time so that he could see her different color thongs. Rafe couldn’t seem to stop himself from responding, his body reacting instinctively, always wanting to bridge the distance. He was a guy who’d never been afraid of the chase, but with Nia, it wasn’t about that. It was about something else Something deeper, something that made him feel more vulnerable than he was willing to admit.

He didn’t understand it, and he hated the way it made him feel.

————————————

It was the night of the full moon when it all came to a head. The group had gathered on the beach for a bonfire. The ocean stretched out before them, dark and infinite, the waves crashing against the shore. The air was thick with salt and laughter, the sound of crackling wood filling the space between them. Rafe was drunk. Not enough to lose control, but just enough to feel reckless. The night was fading, the sky darkening above them, and everyone was starting to break off in pairs or small groups. But Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off Nia. She was sitting by the fire, her long legs stretched out in front of her, her face illuminated by the flames as she talked with Kie. It was so easy to let his gaze wander over her—so natural. She had this way of commanding attention without trying. The firelight danced on her skin, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones, the curve of her lips. Everything about her seemed to draw him in like a moth to a flamee.

It was at that moment, when she glanced over and caught his gaze, that Rafe felt his heart skip. She didn’t look away immediately. In fact, she held his gaze for a beat too long before a sly smile tugged at her lips, and she turned back to Kie. But the damage was done. The pull between them had shifted into something undeniable.

A few moments later, Rafe found himself alone by the edge of the water, trying to cool off. He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore—he just needed a break from the intensity of the night. But then he heard her footsteps behind him.

"Nia," he said, turning just as she stopped beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.

"You’ve been acting weird again," she said, her voice low but direct. Rafe let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. "You don’t give up, do you?"

She smiled, but there was something different in her eyes now—something more serious. "You think I don’t notice?"

Rafe didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say. Instead, Nia took a step closer, her body now inches from his. "I’ve been noticing," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper above the crashing waves. "I know what you’ve been thinking."

Rafe’s breath hitched in his throat. His body tensed, every muscle screaming at him to back away, to walk away before things went too far. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to.

"You don’t know what I’m thinking," he said, his voice rough.

"I think I do," she replied, her hand brushing lightly against his arm, sending a shock of heat through him. It was the first time she had touched him like that. It was enough to set everything in motion. Rafe turned to face her, his heart hammering in his chest. "And what is that?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

Nia’s eyes flickered down to his lips before locking onto his gaze again. "That you’re trying to resist something that’s already happening."

———————————-

Rafe’s breath hitched in his chest at her words. For a moment, he was frozen, unable to move, his mind racing a million miles a minute. The pull between them felt *too much*—like the tension in the air before a storm, just waiting to break. His pulse hammered in his neck, and he couldn’t look away from her. Nia was so close now that he could feel the warmth of her body, the faint scent of coconut oil on her skin, the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of the summer evening air. She was standing just inches from him, but the distance between them felt like a chasm.

“You’re not wrong,” Rafe muttered before he could stop himself. His words hung in the air like an admission he hadn’t meant to make.

Nia’s lips parted slightly as she processed his response, her gaze never leaving his face. She didn’t smile this time, but her eyes softened. The playful edge that had usually colored her voice was gone, replaced by something more sincere, more searching.

“I didn’t think you’d admit it so easily,” she said quietly, taking a small step closer, her hand now hovering just above his. Her touch was almost electric, just a fraction of an inch from his skin, and it made Rafe’s heart race even faster.

He wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore, but the air between them was thick, heavy with something that felt far too real to ignore. Nia was looking at him like she was trying to decipher him—her eyes searching his face, trying to figure out if what he’d just admitted was the truth.

“Why do you keep doing this?” Rafe asked, his voice hoarse, betraying the uncertainty gnawing at him. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Nia raised an eyebrow, a glint of something almost amused in her eyes. “Like what?”

“Like I’m the only thing that matters in the room.” His voice cracked slightly, and he winced. Damn it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. But it was too late. The words had left his mouth, and now the floodgates were open.

Nia was quiet for a beat, but when she spoke again, her voice was low, almost a whisper, as though she were letting him in on a secret only the two of them shared. “Maybe because you *are* the only thing that matters, Rafe.”

The weight of her words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart seemed to stop for a second, before it started pounding faster, a crescendo of emotion building inside of him. He wanted to pull away—he needed to pull away—but his feet felt like they were glued to the sand. It was too late now. The magnetic force between them had already snapped.

Rafe exhaled shakily, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let his guard down. All of the pent-up frustration, the confusion, the desire—it all came crashing down on him at once. He stepped forward, closing the remaining gap between them until there was no space left. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the saltwater on her skin mixed with the faint scent of her perfume.

Nia didn’t pull back. She didn’t run, didn’t hesitate. Instead, she stood her ground, her eyes locked on his, unwavering.

“What are we doing, Nia?” Rafe breathed out, his voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air between them, charged with everything they hadn’t said to each other up until now.

Nia’s lips parted, her breath mingling with his, and for a moment, Rafe thought she might say something, anything that would pull them back from the edge. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance between them, just a fraction of an inch, and pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath her fingers. Her touch was soft, delicate even, but it sent a shock of heat through Rafe, and the tension between them became unbearable.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Nia said quietly, her voice barely audible over the crashing of the waves. There was a vulnerability in her words that Rafe hadn’t expected. It was raw, unguarded in a way he hadn’t seen before.

Her hand slid from his chest up to his jaw, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin. He could feel the heat of her touch radiating through him, like a fire igniting inside him, and he couldn’t resist anymore. He stepped forward again, tilting his head slightly, eyes dropping to her lips. Everything else seemed to fall away.

The world around them, the sound of the waves, the crackling fire on the beach—it all blurred into the background. There was only Nia. Only this moment. Before he could second-guess himself, before he could talk himself out of it, Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips lightly against hers. It was a soft kiss at first—hesitant, almost tentative, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile tension that had built between them for so long. But the moment their lips met, something inside Rafe snapped. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world, but neither of them was willing to let go of the moment.

Nia’s hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Rafe responded in kind, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into him until there was no space left between them. The kiss was everything he hadn’t known he was craving—passionate, desperate, but with a tenderness that made his chest ache.

For a moment, it was like the entire world had disappeared. There was only the two of them, tangled together in a kiss that felt like it had been a long time coming. Rafe didn’t know what to do with the feelings swirling inside him. All he knew was that he wanted more. But when they finally broke apart, breathing heavily, the world came crashing back into focus. Nia was looking up at him, her eyes wide and breathless, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

Rafe’s heart was still racing, his mind still reeling. “What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, but with a trace of disbelief.

Nia bit her lip, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I think that was the moment we stopped pretending we weren’t feeling this.”

Rafe’s chest tightened. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed her to say that, to make it real. “And now what?”

She tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his face. “Now? I don’t know, Rafe. But we can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter.”

He nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and fear flood through him. “You’re right.” His voice was rough, barely a whisper. He could feel the weight of the unspoken words, the ones they both knew they weren’t quite ready to say yet.

Nia’s eyes softened, and she took a step back, but only just. Her fingers lingered on his arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go either.

“We take it one step at a time,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his. “No pressure. Just… us.”

Rafe exhaled, his heart still pounding in his chest, but somehow lighter. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

As they stood there, just a breath apart, the tension between them hadn’t faded. It had only shifted—into something new, something uncharted. Rafe knew that whatever happened next would change everything. But for now, this was enough. This was the start of something neither of them could walk away from, even if they tried.

The waves crashed against the shore, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

How It All Started… ~Pre-S1!Younger!Olivia Benson xFem Older!Detective!Partner!Reader

Summary— My own little take on how Liv ended up working for SVU. I know the story with Karen and the two year old, but in this AU, Reader is Liv’s first partner and this case causes her to move to SVU.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: normal SVU related violence, talk of murder, blood, mentioned suicide, working the case, young and innocent Liv, etc.

Enjoy (;

It seemed to all have been arranged–Olivia sensed this when she finally entered her apartment that night and closed the door behind her. Looking back, it all made sense now. How could they have missed it?

A week ago, Olivia and you her partner had walked onto the fresh crime scene. You specialized in homicide cases, and this case was a homicide if they had ever seen one. Olivia blew into her gloves, sliding them onto her hands one at a time, as she walked into the kitchen where the body lay. She still was not completely used to the sight of a body, especially a girl as young as this one was, so she took a moment for some deep breaths, before she drew reality back into her head.

“Female vic, Ellie Paige, 17, shot in the head… Jesus…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead and staring at the splattered blood and then the body.

It wasn’t everyday that you two found a seventeen year old dead in a kitchen. Although it did happen more than you or Olivia would have liked. The girl was on her back, face up, with a singular bullet to the head. Blood was spilt across the floor and splattered across the cabinets from the shot. But something about this particular case got to both detectives.

“Time of death?” Olivia breathed out a question to the coronary who was standing near the dead girl’s body.

“In between 1 and 3am…” they responded.

“Mom a Katherine Paige is in the bedroom, apparently hysterical.” You spoke out, looking to Olivia, “Liv, they waited for us to interview her.”

Olivia nodded, looking around the room once more, before following you into the adjoining room. In the main bedroom, there were two techs trying to calm an older woman down. The mother. You swiftly excused the techs, as Liv approached the woman.

“Ms. Paige. I’m Detetive Olivia Benson, and this is my partner Detective Y/N L/N. We are here to take your statement. Can you please tell us what happened?”

The woman’s hands were flailing and shaking as she paced back and forth. At the sound of Olivia’s voice, the woman stopped in her tracks and suddenly met Liv’s gaze.

“I don't, I don't understand… I don’t understand…!” Ms. Paige exclaimed, “I… my daughter, Oh God my daughter!!”

The mother then proceeded to break down, and Olivia was swift to grab her before she fell to the floor. She continued to ramble.

“Hey, let's get her out of here. Take her to the precinct…” You murmured lowly for only Liv to hear as you nudged her lightly.

Olivia looked up at you and nodded, proceeding to get up and guide Ms. Paige through the room, past the kitchen, and out the door. After she successfully got the woman in their patrol car, the ride to the precinct was rather smooth.

Both detectives made sure that the woman was comfortable, placing her in the family room at the precinct, a colorful and bright room, designated for family interviews. Olivia sat with the woman on a couch, while you watched on the opposing side of the mirror window.

“Ms. Paige, I know this is hard… But can you do your best to try and tell me what happened…? What is the last thing you remember?” Olivia gently prompted the woman, after letting the woman calm down a bit.

“I… I remember going to bed… I was really tired…” the woman stammered.

The young brunette detective squeezed Ms. Paige’s hands with her own in reassurance.

“That’s good, really good. What is the last thing you remember about Ellie?”

“Ellie… Oh Ellie… I… I remember Ellie doing the dishes…” The woman stammered in response.

You watched your partner continue the interview with a similar pattern of responses. Meanwhile, you began to look over the current files of the case. When Olivia was finished had let Ms. Paige go for the night, she came back to her desk across from you, who were quizzically looking at the case file.

“What’s up…?” Liv asked you, nudging you slightly along with her prompted words.

You were sucked back into reality from your thoughts, sucking in a breath before starting.

“Nothing I just…”

“You think the mom looks good for it…?” Olivia asked with a chuckle, accompanied by an eyeroll.

“Yea… Yeah I do.” You chuckled in response.

The young brunette sat in her desk chair and sighed.

“It is convenient that she doesn’t remember anything…” Olivia admitted.

Now that you had gotten your partner hooked on the theory, you lit up and started to present your case with gleaming and intrigued expression.

“Yes, and prints on the gun came back and guess who’s prints were on it…?” You said with a glimmer in his eyes.

“You already compared prints?” Olivia chuckled again when you nodded and hummed in response, “Ok ok, I’m going to guess the prints belong to the mom…”

“Bingo.”

“But she had no gunshot residue…” Liv sighed.

“Aha! But neither did the girl!” You exclaimed.

“Okay… But doesn’t that speak for a break-in?” Olivia questioned skeptically.

You shot your partner another quizzical look.

“A break-in where they only shot the girl, didn’t take anything, didn’t harm the mom, and they left the gun…? Nuh uh, I don’t think so…” you insisted.

“I don’t know… Something is off about this one…” Liv hummed.

“No signs of struggle on the girl. If she knew her attacker, she may not have put up as much of a fight…”

Liv sat back in her chair, in thought.

“What…?” You chuckled.

~~

Two weeks later, the Katherine Paige was arrested for the murder of her daughter, Ellie Paige. But nonetheless, something didn’t sit right with Olivia.

“Benson, you’re still getting used to this job… it’s okay to be wrong. That’s part of working homicide, sometimes our theory’s turn out to be just that, theories.” You explained, looking across your desk to the young brunette.

Olivia still wasn’t convinced. Her gut told her it was something else. But she was forced to move on with her partner, go to the next homicide case.

That was until one of Ellie’s friends stepped into the precinct. She told the detectives a story about how Ellie’s mother abused her and how Ellie was suicidal. Olivia’s gut wrenched having to interview this girl, and by the time she met you on the other side of the glass, she wanted to throw up.

“Gotta hand it to you, now your theory has more credibility… maybe your gut was right.”

“How could a mother do that to her child…?” Liv breathed out.

You handed the young woman a cup of water. She took it gratefully.

The case was reevaluated and closed out, ruled a suicide. But it changed Olivia. And four weeks later, Benson was transferring to SVU.

~~~

Olivia Benson Masterlist

[probably-writing-x]

Curtains Closed

Summary:

Warnings: Heartbreaking angst I’m so sorry, cursing but I think that’s everything

Author’s Note: I am so sorry this is so sad fhskghs but i loved writing this request !! Please send me any more that you may be thinking of and I’ll do my best

The set is bustling by the time you get there, crew and cast dotted around everywhere all preparing to film and refilm scenes. This was the first time that you’d been able to make the visit, and yet Drew had been filming here for at least a month. It was a new film he was working on, but with you filming recently too, it felt like your paths just weren’t crossing.

“Hey (Y/N)!” One of the assistants smiles when she sees you, “His trailer is just over there.”

You thank her and turn in the direction of Drew’s trailer, where his character’s name is printed on a sheet of paper in the window. You knock and wait, almost nervously, for the door to open. You always felt nervous when you went weeks without seeing him properly, even a year into your relationship, that hadn’t changed.

It takes a few seconds before he comes to the door, swinging it open exaggeratively. His hair is messy and his top splashed with patches of water, a grin on his face.

“Hey baby!” Drew grins, though the moment stops quickly when he’s shot at with another spray of water, “You bitch!”

Your heart feels like it sinks for just a second, enough for you to notice. He hadn’t thought to kiss you when he saw you, not even reach out and wrap you in his arms.

“Sorry, sorry, come in,” He encourages, stepping out of the way for you to step through.

In the trailer, he’s joined by his costar, who you knew was called Emily. She was a beautiful girl, being a model before she’d become an actress, and she played his love interest in the film.

“Hey, you must be (Y/N) right?” Emily grins, holding a water gun in her hand that is still pointed at Drew.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you Emily.”

She doesn’t respond to you, instead squealing as Drew shoots her back, spraying her hair on either side of her face.

“So, how’s filming going?” You ask, sitting on the sofa across from Emily.

When Drew sits down, he takes the seat next to her.

“It’s good,” Drew nods, “We finished pretty early today, always easy doing scenes with Emily, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” Emily grins, “We’re like a dream team on set.”

Your words seem to fail you, and you’re not sure why your chest feels so tight. This was stupid, right? They worked together, they were friends, it was good that Drew was working with someone that he got on well with. But that’s how it was when you two first got together, and part of you felt a sinking feeling that your instincts hadn’t failed you here.

“So where were you thinking of going tonight?” Drew asks, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table between the two couches.

You swallow the lump in your throat to respond but Emily cuts in quickly.

“Ooh why don’t you go to that Thai place we went to?” She suggests, and you’re sure that she has shuffled closer to Drew on the sofa.

“Yeah, we could do, it was so good,” Drew nods, “Me and Em went last week, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

The lump is back in your throat, “Yeah, sure, whatever you fancy.”

~~~

That night, you and Drew decided to order food in instead of going out, after you’d told him that you didn’t feel well. He’d eaten three slices of your pizza when you told him that you couldn’t finish it. And he had believed you when you told him there was nothing else that was wrong.

You were both in the kitchen now, washing up the plates you’d used for your food.

“So, Emily seems nice,” You nod, dragging the kitchen towel over your plate.

“Yeah, she’s great, right?” Drew smiles, “We just have such a laugh on set, genuinely I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much.”

You felt like you could cry in that moment, not just from that comment but from the way his eyes seemed so bright when he spoke about her, the way you felt like his eyes hadn’t been on yours as much as normal.

He hands you the last plate and shakes his hands off into the water, taking one side of the towel in your hands to dry his off.

“Hey,” He takes it out of your hands and sets it down, wrapping his arms around your waist, “It’s good to properly see you again.”

You force yourself to smile, setting a hand on his chest.

“I mean it, I feel like we’ve both been way too busy recently,” He nods, “It’s good for us to have days like this.”

You still can’t force your body to bring out any words, just looking at the boy in front of you like you’d never seen him before.

“Hey?” Drew dips his tall figure down to try and catch your eyes, “This is good, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” You smile and he kisses your cheek, releasing his arms from around you.

Your heart feels heavy and empty all at once, your mind running a thousand thoughts and thinking of nothing at all. When he walks off to disappear into the lounge, you feel like a part of you disappears with him.

~~~

That night, you both get ready for bed like you normally do. You brush your teeth together and he goes into the bedroom whilst you’re washing your face. It’s all the routine that you’re used to, and when you shut off the ensuite light, he’s already sat propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. You’re still wearing one of his tops to bed, another piece of normality that it felt comforting to keep.

“Drew, can I ask you something?” You ask cautiously, hovering by the side of the bed like you’re worried about getting in.

“Sure, what is it?” He shuts off his phone screen and puts it on the bedside table.

“Do you think things are still the same between us when we don’t see each other as much? You know, like when we’re both so busy?”

You watch the way his face drops a little, “What are you talking about?”

“I mean… we’ve just both been so busy recently.”

“Yeah, and we make it work,” He continues, “We still text, we call, and it’s only been a few weeks, we’ve done worse.”

You drag a hand through your hair, pulling out one of the tangles to distract yourself, “I don’t-“

“What is this (Y/N)?” He shakes his head, “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“I just,” You take a deep breath, if you don’t say it now you never will, “I saw you with Emily today and I-“

“This is about Emily?” He sits up straighter, “Are you kidding?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you two went to dinner together?”

His words fail him and it’s like you can see the confidence crumble just a little, “I don’t-“

“Is it because you knew that it would look weird? For you two to just be going out together?” You continue, a new sense of confidence fuelling your words, “If you didn’t think it was weird, you would’ve told me. We talk everyday Drew. What excuse did you come out with?Or did you just hope that I wouldn’t ask?”

“I just told you I was going out with the cast, it was last Friday,” He admits, as if he’s just been caught in the act completely.

Your heart sinks, “So you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you, I mean, it wasn’t like that,” He scrambles, standing up now so that both of you were on either side of the bed now, too much and too little space between you all at once, “I just knew how you’d think it looked, and we hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks, and you were busy with work, and I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“So I’m busy working, and you’re out on dates with a girl I hadn’t even met before?!”

“No, no, no, don’t be like that!” He seems more aggressive now, “It wasn’t a fucking date, okay? We’re friends.”

“Friends? Because she’s just so funny, and you’re fighting in your trailer, and you’re sat next to her, and you’re doing everything with her?”

“I’m sat next to her?” He half-laughs, “So you’re noting down where I sit now?”

“But it’s not just that, is it, Drew? I haven’t seen you in weeks and you didn’t even care! It could’ve been anyone walking through the door and you’d have had the same reaction! It’s like I was fucking interrupting!” You are waving your arms around as you speak, the way Drew knew you only did when you were getting angrier.

“You weren’t fucking interrupting,” He shakes his head, “But if you don’t trust me in that then maybe this is more of an issue than just Emily. What else, (Y/N)?”

You look at him there, his features darkened by the lack of light in your bedroom. He’s more toned than ever for this role, the muscles of his abs dipping in and out of his stomach and casting small shadows over his torso, his arms larger and his shoulders broader. If you looked for long enough, it felt like he was completely different. But his eyes were still yours, in the way they creased when you made him laugh, and the way his dimples hooked either side of his lips when he saw you happy. But this time it felt tainted, your mind overloading with thoughts of him giving the same eyes, the same smile, the same dimples to her.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Drew,” You whisper the words, uncertain of how they’ll sit in the air between you.

“What does that mean?” He shakes his head, the fury in him settling down into worry.

You’re silent, complete silence between the two of you.

“Let’s just go to bed, okay? We’re just tired,” Drew states, convincing himself along with you, “We’re not thinking straight, this isn’t us. Let’s just go to sleep, and we’ll wake up, and we’ll be fine, okay?”

You don’t reply.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, okay?”

“Okay,” You croak out, your eyes threatening to spill unforgiving tears.

He takes a deep breath and gets back into bed, pulling down the sheets on your side. You follow suit, climbing in beside him and pulling the sheets high up over you as if a shield from the argument that still lingered in the air. Drew dips an arm beneath your back and pulls you into him, another piece of normality he seemed reluctant to give up. His body is warm but it feels too warm beneath your skin, burning into you just a little. His chest rises and falls but it’s not in the same rhythm, his heart slowing down as yours still felt like it was racing.

Eventually, you’re sure that he has fallen asleep, and you stay awake for far too much time after, your eyes staring at the closed curtains on the other side of the room, willing for the light to come through.

~~~

The following morning, you’re awake before he is, though you’re sure that you hadn’t had more than a couple of hours sleep the night before.

It’s cold in the apartment, like an air of the inevitable had settled over everything that the two of you had. When Drew wakes up, you’re sat with your feet and knees tucked up to you on the sofa, your hands around yourself.

“Morning,” He says, his voice still sleepy and thick, joggers hanging low on his hips, forcing the V-line of his torso to poke out.

You look up and offer him a small smile, the biggest that your lack of energy can muster.

“Did you sleep okay?”

He regrets the question almost as soon as it is said, as if he’d just asked you the worst thing possible in the moment. Instead, he walks over the short distance to you and sits down, close to you on the sofa like he wants to draw you into him.

“Listen, (Y/N),” He begins, “I know things aren’t ideal. We’re both busy, we’re working in different places, different hours, and it’s not going to end any time soon. But we can make this work, okay? We can change things. I’m going to tell you everything, I’m not going to lie to you, I’ll make sure I have more days off and I can come and visit you, and we can facetime more instead of just calling,” He pauses to take a breath, “We can fight for this (Y/N).”

“I don’t know how much longer I can just keep fighting, Drew,” Your voice is croaky, threatening to break.

“But this is us, baby, we can’t lose this,” He sits himself closer to you, though avoiding contact like he is afraid you’ll shatter in front of his eyes.

“Drew, listen,” You let yourself breathe for a moment, “This has worked for us, it has. We’ve always made it work. But, right now, it doesn’t feel like that anymore. We’re in different places, and this time it was only weeks, next time it might be a couple of months. You’ll go on press for the film, I’ll be here. I don’t know how much we can keep doing that.”

“We can try, can’t we?”

“I’ve never seen you with anyone and felt the way I did yesterday, I saw you with Emily and I felt like a completely different person, like I was this jealous and overthinking version of myself, and I don’t want to be that. I don’t want to see you after weeks and just argue with you,” You’re speaking through tears that you are fighting back, “This isn’t us, you said it last night. But if we stay together now, this is what we’re going to be, and I don’t want you to be someone I end up hating.”

Drew’s silent, staring at you like he’s hoping he’ll wake up from a nightmare.

“So I think we need to break up,” You choke through the words, though they feel cold as they leave your lips.

“(Y/N) please,” He whispers, tears spilling over his eyelashes.

“I can’t fight for this anymore Drew,” You shake your head and your tears fall too now, staining your cheeks as they do.

He moves forward and grips your hands, pulling them into the middle of his larger palms and bringing them to his lips. You drop your head forward and press your forehead to his. His tears drop down and mix with yours over your tangle of hands, neither of you wanting to move as if moving would solidify what had just been finalised already.

“I’m never not going to love you, (Y/N).”

You nod against his chest, “Then you’ll go, and I’ll stay, and we’ll find our way back.”

(((Adding a normal people reference so that you don’t all hate me for breaking your hearts xoxo)))

[thebadgerclan]

Salvation

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: You are his salvation...

A/N: This is based on the scene from Queen Charlotte where she finds out what the doctors have been doing to George (episode 5 I think?)

The demon was back.  After months of peace, of Nikolai’s mind being entirely his own, it was back.  The King had flown from his window three weeks ago, and since then, your contact with him had been limited.  It was a protocol that your husband had drawn up after his last battle with the demon, a contingency plan that he prayed he’d never have to enact.  But prayers weren’t always answered.

You now slept in separate chambers, your husband had returned to being chained to his bed and sedated.  Even during the day, a time that had been proven safe from the demon, Nikolai was distant, subdued.  You’d overheard him discussing it with one of his advisers: “Her Majesty is worried, moi tsar.”  “I cannot risk her,” your husband had responded.  “She is far too important.”

What little you saw of your husband broke your heart.  He looked exhausted, and you might have been able to chalk it up to the stress of the situation, had it not been for one minuscule, almost imperceptible detail.  Nikolai had brought in physicians from all over Ravka in hopes of finding a cure, and one, Doctor Laisia Orlov from Tsibeya, had some interesting theories.  At this point, Nikolai was willing to try anything to expel the demon from him, so he allowed Doctor Orlov to set up rooms in the Palace to do her work.

It was nearly a month and a half into your husbands treatment that you noticed it.  Nikolai had been meeting with his council when the Doctor entered, and when she walked near the King, he flinched.  You didn’t claim to be a medical professional, but you knew that a patient shouldn’t flinch when their doctor walked past.  From then, you noticed that Nikolai would mumble to himself, his hands would shake, his head would twitch.  Something was amiss, and it had something to do with Doctor Orlov.

It was two weeks after that that you got a feeling deep in your gut that something was wrong.  Not just wrong, but deeply, horribly wrong.  You pushed aside the papers you’d been going over and tracked down Nikolai’s valet.  He was flanked by four guards, which was extremely unusual, but they bowed when you approached.  “My Queen,” Akim, your husband’s valet, greeted.  “How may I assist you?”

“Akim, where is my husband?”  Before he could answer, one of the guards interjected.  “He is occupied, moya tsaritsa,” he said, which only raised your suspicion.  “Forgive me, but my question was not directed at you.  Akim, where is Nikolai?”  The valet shifted, and you pushed on.  “I will not ask again, Akim.”  “He is–” he cleared his throat.  “He is receiving treatment.  With Doctor Orlov.”

Again, your suspicion rose, but you forced yourself to remain calm.  “Well then, I should like to observe her work.  She is employing some revolutionary methods, is she not?”  “You do not wish to see that, Your Majesty,” said another guard, and your expression hardened.  “I am the Queen,” you said.  “You do not presume to tell me what I would and would not like to see.  Now, where are the Doctor’s rooms located?”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” the first guard said.  “I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”  You drew yourself up to your full height, and while this guard was taller than you, he cowered a bit.  “I am not asking,” you said, voice icy.  “Now, tell me where my husband is, or I will have you charged with treason.”  “This way, Your Majesty,” Akim said suddenly, and you hurried to follow him.

The King’s valet led you into the kitchens and the storage cellar below, your concern growing with every step.  Then you heard it: screaming.  Nikolai, screaming.  You hiked up your skirts and ran down the corridor, panic bubbling in you.  When you came to a door, you slammed it open, the sight behind it igniting rage and horror in you.  Your husband was tied to a chair, a gag between his teeth, a red hot poker pressed to his chest.

“What is this?” you demanded, and Doctor Orlov paused.  “Untie the King.”  Akim and the four guards had trailed you, but all stood frozen.  “Untie the King!  I command you!”  “Queen Y/N, you cannot–”  “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!” you snapped, composure completely slipping.  “I will have you hanged for this, do you understand me?  Torturing your King?”

“It is not torture, Majesty, it is medicine!” Doctor Orlov argued.  “You cannot have me hanged for practicing medicine.”  “I am your Queen!” you screamed, moving to stand nose-to-nose with the Doctor.  “If I wish for you to be hanged, then you will be hanged.  If I wish for you to be drawn and quartered, then you shall be.  If I wish for you to rot in a cell for the rest of your pathetic life, then you shall!  Get her out of my sight!”

The guards snapped to attention and dragged the Doctor out, and you turned your attention to your husband, who was being supported by Akim.  “Oh, Nikolai,” you breathed, and he fell into your arms, clutching your gown.  He was trembling, mumbling to himself.  “My love, what have they done to you?”  “Y-Y-Y/N?” he managed, and you nodded, cupping his cheek.  “Yes, darling, it’s Y/N.  Y/N’s here, I’m here.  It’s me, sweetheart.”

You felt him relax in your arms, and he let out a shuddering breath.  “Akim,” you called.  “Have the guards clear the halls and get a Healer to our rooms.”  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the valet said, hurrying from the room.  “It didn’t like her,” Nikolai mumbled, and you stroked his hair.  “What was that, my love?”  “It didn’t like her.  The demon.”  You were about to ask what he meant by that, but Akim re-entered.  “The halls are clear, Majesty.”

The two of you helped Nikolai to walk back to your rooms, and you changed him into his nightclothes, tucking him into bed.  The Healer arrived soon after, examining the King and healing the burns, rope marks, and leech bites.  “He’ll need rest,” she instructed.  “And he needs you.  After what he endured…”  “Of course,” you replied, thanking the Healer and dismissing her.

Nikolai was dozing, and you climbed into bed at his side, pulling him into your arms.  Already he seemed better, his face calm and relaxed, his tremor gone, no longer mumbling.  “Nikolai, darling?”  “Hmm?”  “What did you mean earlier when you said ‘it didn’t like her’?”  Your husband shifted in your arms so he could look at you.  “The demon didn’t like Orlov,” he explained.

“When she was around, it came to the forefront of my mind, it tried to get out.  And when she was…treating me, it would fight like mad to get free.  But when you came in there…when you held me, it went away.”  “Went away?”  “Mhmm,” your husband replied.  “When she was there, I had to fight to keep it at bay, but with you, it’s gone.  I don’t feel it at all.”  “Nikolai,” you said suddenly, clarity coming over you.  “Do you remember the night the demon came back?  When was it?”

The King thought for a moment before answering.  “I think it was the 8th, why?”  Suddenly, it all made sense.  “I was staying with my mother in Balakirev then,” you said.  “And that was the first night we’d spent apart since–”  “Since after the war,” Nikolai finished for you.  “Since I was infected with the demon.”  It all made perfect sense now: it wasn’t chance that the demon re-appeared, it happened in your absence.  

Now that he thought about it, more and more pieces clicked into place.  He’d felt the demon clawing at his mind before, when he was anxious or stressed, but when you were near, it released its clutches and left him in peace.  The Darkling had given him this curse, but the Darkling had never known love, never known the solace of another’s arms.  But Nikolai did, and it was that love, that solace that was his cure.  Not medicine, not science, not any religious ritual, it was you.  It had always been you.

“Y/N,” Nikolai said.  “You saved me.”  “I’ll have that mad woman hanged for what she did to you, I’ll–”  “Darling,” your husband said, smiling softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek tenderly.  “As attractive as it is to hear you threaten someone on my behalf, that’s not what I mean.”  You heard a hint of his usual wit and banter slip back into his tone, and you knew that your husband was back.

“You are what keeps the demon at bay, my love,” Nikolai continued.  “When I feel it coming on, trying to get out, all I have to do is look at you, and it vanishes.  I have never felt its claws when I’m with you, when you’re in my arms.  Y/N Lantsov, you are my salvation, my solace, and my greatest love.”  Tears, happy tears pricked at your eyes, and you pressed your lips to his.

“If you’re making flowery declarations, then you must be feeling better,” you joked, but Nikolai was deadly serious.  “I’m not joking, Y/N.  The two months we were apart were the worst of my life. I couldn’t sleep, I barely ate, I was a shell of myself.  But an hour in your arms and I’m a new man.  You are my savior, Y/N.”  “Nikolai, I–”  “No, my love, you are.  My Queen, my salvation.”

You smiled, kissing him again.  “I love you so much, Nikolai,” you whispered, pulling him closer.  “I love you, I love you, I love you.  Saints, I’ve missed you.”  Nikolai nuzzled his face into your chest, happy to be held in your embrace.  “I love you too, my darling Y/N.  And I missed you far more than I could ever say.”  That Doctor would pay for what she’d done, but for now, you had your Nikolai, and he had his salvation.  His Y/N, his wife, his Queen, his love.

[erikiara80]

September 8 could be a big Fringe Easter Egg and a hint at what happened in the past

A gate opened on November 6, 1983, and another opened on September 8, 1979, but interestingly, there are also many references to winter, ice, freezing to death and 1976. A year Ross Duffer connected to gates and a wrinkle in time, here (here the mentions of 1976, starting with the reporter in S1 saying that someone drowned in the quarry "seven years ago")

In Fringe there's a character named September who:

saves Walter and alternate Peter from drowning in a frozen lake, where Walter opened a portal to the parallel universe

remembers, thanks to Walter, what love is and that he loves his son. Michael. Yeah, he remembers that "the boy is important, he must live" (he's the heart), and decides to protect him (Michael gives him the courage to fight on)

September's story

All the mentions of the name Mike in ST. And let's not forget the many mentions of the name Peter!

Speaking of Michael and lakes

...and remembering what love is. There are countless ST-Fringe parallels, but I particularly love this one between Byler and Polivia. After the accident in the lake, Peter is unhappy. He almost dies, trying to go back to his world. But then he finds Olivia's sketchbook in Walter's lab, and his life changes when he meets her for the first time. He comforts her when she tells him about her violent stepfather (hello, Lonnie), and that's when he decides to accept his new life.

Same shirt. Here Mike believes that Will drowned, and he's looking at his drawing, when El channels Will. And then Mike is even more determined to save him.

At the end of S3, Peter sacrifices himself to save the two universes, and is erased from existence. But then he misteriously reappears in S4, in the same lake where he should've drowned. It's Olivia's love that brought him back. She couldn't completely forget him.

Stranger Things, S5. If there's really a time loop, what happened in the past will probably happen again in the end. Full circle etc. And like in Fringe, love will save the world.

But back to the hints at what might have happened in the past.

S4 starts with a boy on a bike. Then there's a subtle mention of a lake, birthdays and "sending your copy" in the crossword puzzle (lots of mentions of that, connected to twin imagery) I'm thinking about the two Peters in Fringe and the "switched at birth" and "swapping places" mentions in ST.

The number 8, imo, is a reference to Will's age when he drew the rainbowship, and Kali. So mind control, the power to make people see or not see what you want/ ketamine, the mean green. Basically, this seems to be about El, but we can't trust what we see. This is definitely about Will too.

There's also this parallel that seems to connect the massacre in September to a winter day. Interesting.

So many references to lakes and cold water, and people drowning

Ice water and the poster of Salzburger Festpiele -> Der Talisman, 1976

They also make a subtle connection between Rink-o-mania, which parallels the Nina flashbacks, to frozen water, when Argyle says that it could be an ice skate

In this scene of Frankenstein, Maria drowns in a lake

Barb vanishes in a pool, Joyce and Hopper mourn Bob in her room, next to Will's drawing of Lover's Lake. There's young Billy and the rip current, and the lyrics of Moby's song, when Will and Max are dying.

I don't wanna swim forever... When it's cold I'd like to die...

When El is in Nina, Owens says that she's drowning. When Dustin, Erica and Lucas talk about Mothergate, and Dustin says This is it! This is the answer!, Karen enters the kitchen and asks the cop if he just wants water. Then they talk in front of the painting of a lake.

I don't think it's a coincidence that one of the gates in S4 opens in a lake, or that in that sequence we see Patrick die and El being revived. Also, Steve calls it Mamagate (El sees Terry in 4x07- another connection between the gate in 1979 and lakes) and Dustin calls it Watergate.

The Duffers said that in S4 they start to show their hand, and I noticed that there are now many connections between birthdays, lakes, gates and 1976.

The mention of Lakeview in the crossword puzzle, in 4x01

The scenes at Rink-o-mania, which parallel the Nina flashbacks, happen on March 22

the massacre and gate in 1979: connection to Will's 8th birthday

Mamagate-Watergate: connection to the memory of a birth (the sparks and smoke El sees imo are the memory of a wrinkle in time)

A reference to a birth in the mid-1970s that should be impossible. Wasn't El born in 1971? But in 2x05 she reads that Brenner stole Terry's baby daughter in the mid-1970s, not early 70s (imo, in 1976)

So, this is my theory (I could be wrong, of course)

Everything is connected to what happened to Will

In S1 they hint that Will was the subject of the experiments and I think that's the truth. I think something bad happened when he was five, in 1976, that involved Lonnie, Hopper, a car accident, a lake. Maybe he was already the subject of the program, or maybe they chose him because of the accident (I'm thinking about the movie Source Code) Maybe he was dying and they saved him with some drug, or some technology that manipulates time and space. I don't know. But I think whatever happened to him, something extremely traumatic, what they did to him changed everything.

And if the experiments created a time loop, maybe some people who died (Hopper?) or were born stillborn (El? who feels like she doesn't belong anywhere?), are now alive, but stuck in a cycle, a nightmare that never ends. And the UD could be Will's mindspace, the physical manifestation of his trauma, a place of decay and death, a dark, cold reflection of home. And El has taken his place as the lab kid, because she was brought back when Will died, and now she has to fight the monsters/trauma he hides from, until he accepts the good and the bad and becomes whole.

There's more to say, but this post is already long