#I was very against leak all this season but now I was just thinking

[chronicsyd]

I think the issue I'm having with people already holding the sentiment that "Caitlyn's an irredeemable asshat and Vi's better off without her" is mainly the sheer lack of Context that we've been given about this situation as a whole (leaving the people who've seen the leaks out of this per usual). Because in reality, the only Real context we've gotten is Vi's side of the fallout of whatever happened between the two. Everything else is just sheer speculation that we've gotten from the trailer.

Because with this line of thinking we should have held the same sentiment after Vi leaves Caitlyn back in "Oil & Water", but we don't. At least not from what I've seen. But the reasoning behind this is very simple, as a viewer we've been given context about how Vi operates, how she thinks and feels so calling Vi an "irredeemable asshat" for leaving Caitlyn doesn't make sense in this regard, even if she's hurting Caitlyn as a result by doing this.

Hell this line of thinking even follows for Vi hitting Powder back in episode 3. Was it wrong for Vi to do? Yes, but as a viewer we've been given the context that Vi lashes out when she's angry and was dealing with an overwhelming amount of emotions after watching what happened to her family. So throwing out that Vi's an "irredeemable asshat" after this doesn't follow either, even if we've seen Powder change for the worse as a result of what happened.

Now why do I bring all this up? Well, it's because of what I've said before. We're missing the context of what happens building up to the scene, or the scene itself, or even how Caitlyn's thinking or feeling at this point, because she's going to behave differently than how we've seen her in S1. We have speculation that her grief and revenge for Jinx is probably going to make her more cold hearted and closed off (mirroring how we saw her behave facing off against Jinx back in episode 9). But that's just the thing, those are speculations, we don't have anything truly confirmed about what happens. So is Caitlyn going to do something wrong that hurts Vi as a result? Most likely. But I at least can't behave like Caitlyn's irredeemable or undeserving of Vi until I actually see what's going on or how Caitlyn behaves after all of this has transpired.

This also falls into a discussion of what someone can claim as Truly "irredeemable". Because hurting someone you care about is a cause for a negative reaction from people, I won't argue with that; but I wouldn't claim it as something that's truly irredeemable or something you can't come back from If you put the time/work in to reflect on your actions and apologize for how your actions have hurt the person that you care about, which is something we're probably going to see from Caitlyn as the season progresses.

And to be honest, people saying "I've seen the leaks and you're not gonna like her" means NOTHING to me because 1) that's Your opinion on the matter and 2) the show itself has still shown us Nothing so essentially your word means nothing to me at this point and time.

(Not gonna lie but i feel like we're going into the same "Miles vs Gwen" discussion here)

[miabrown007]

the ml fandom's climate and attitude towards leaks is a direct consequence of the show's structure, wherein the showrunners keep building up conflict, putting the audience on edge emotionally without granting any resolution in a years-long cat and bug game. in this essay I'll--

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[letorip]

hiiii! i loved reading “somethin’ stupid”, and I wanted to make a request for it. Not sure if it’s discontinued or not, but what abt reader when everything has healed and them being super insecure of their scars. Maybe getting bullied or harassed for them? And Wednesday comforting them, even though it’s not her thing + reassurance that she’ll always love them, no matter what. Ty for listening to my rant. :)

somethin’ stupid [iii]

“the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and oh, the night so blue”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: wednesday reminds you she loves you with an unending passion, even with the scars that you now wear for her.

warnings: mentions of bullying, body insecurities, percy hynes white the rat man himself existing, explicit words ig? if you can't handle cuss words idk what to tell you

word count: 3.9k

A/N: timeline a bit altered, there's about a week left before you return home for the summer, and xavier gives her the phone with this week left. thoughts are in red. i don’t usually accept requests from people but this was just too adorable to pass up, especially with the new season starting production. it kind of got away from me, in terms of length, but it was fun to write. next out will hopefully be the lottie matthews fic that i’ve been talking up

===+++===

===+++===

Scars were remarkable things. The way they stretched along the skin of your arms and right up almost to the tips of your fingers, or branched along the bridge of your nose and twisted along your jaw, it was as if a tree of your life was etched fundamentally into you, and Wednesday was transfixed.

It didn’t matter how many times she traced her fingers over the paths— two fingers, gentle, watching your nose twitch with every curve— she still thought they were, that you were breathtaking to look at.

“Wednesday, that tickles,” you hummed softly, eyes still closed. She frowned, tugging her hands away abruptly and raising her eyebrows at you.

“I was unaware you were awake," she said.

You lifted one eye open, smiling when you saw her, and though she would have still rather died than admit it, the gesture held a great, mystical power over her.

The skylight overhead leaked morning light into the room, flushing itself against the walls and beaming gently down, over your cheeks. It felt nice everywhere except for the new slashes that were still healing, and you rolled over, away from her to sit up on the edge of your bed and get out of the uncomfortable heat that pressed on those delicate places.

"How did you get in?" you asked, stretching out your arms and wincing a bit at the uncomfortable tightness. "You weren't here when I went to bed."

She watched you go, leaning back on the scratchy, woollen armchair next to your bed and shoving the stack of comic books already there to the side. “Your roof has a window, and I’m a very good climber. You should lock that, by the way.”

You turned to her and raised your eyebrows, looking miffed, but disgustingly adorable. “You could’ve just texted me, you know. I would’ve let you use the door.”

“And use that phone Xavier gave me? Believe me, I’d rather not,” she rolled her eyes with disgust, thinking about the interaction and how it took up time of her life that she'd never get back.

“You’d better, actually,” you said, turning to her with a smile and then wandering over to the set of drawers in the corner, clothes thrown all over the floor. Your whole room in general was a mess, largely from the bottles of medication and knocked over piles of books and things. It had been a rather stressful endeavour to get you up the stairs and comfortably inside, when you were still in your casts and there wasn’t an elevator.

“Why?” Wednesday challenged, watching you. She herself was already in her uniform, but she watched as you moved in your white pyjama t-shirt, the fresh scars almost dancing with your arms as they moved while you walked.

You grabbed a white button down out from the top one, shaking it a bit to get out a few wrinkles. “Because you’re sure as hell texting with me over summer break.” You shrugged, taking the shirt with you and walking behind the dividing screen you had next to your wardrobe. “That was nice of him to do for you, actually.” Your shirt went flying over the divider, landing on the ground.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. “You’re too kind to him. The snivelling rat only gave it to me so I would feel obligated to text him.” She could hear you rustling around behind the screen, messing about with your clothes. “Besides, why use the phone when I can visit you in person? Are you so braindead you need to rely on your phone for communication?”

The small noises stopped abruptly, and when you didn’t reply to that for a minute, Wednesday furrowed her eyebrows, standing up in her heavy boots that thudded against the creaky old wood of your floor. “What is it?” she asked, stepping forward towards the screen. You had made a fool of her with how much you made her worry, but she still desperately needed to know what was going on inside your head. She needed to be sure that you were okay.

She expected to see you have tripped maybe, or you had somehow collapsed into a pile of clothes and drifted back off to sleep, but the reality was a bit more mollifying. You were on the other side, just standing there with your button down shirt open in front of the mirror. You didn't say anything for a while, staring into it with a frown.

The scars over your stomach were perhaps the deepest, with raw, pinkish impressions still pressed into them and greenish-yellow bruises around the edges that were still straggling to heal up. The lines criss-crossed over your skin and up your chest, ending at the peaks of your shoulders that the white button down draped over. “They look bad on me,” you said, quietly.

She didn't particularly know what to say, watching your eyes continue to stare with a rigid dislike back at yourself. To get her to comfortably lean on you had been quite the effort, and now that you were officially together she was still becoming used to saying she loved you or kissing your skin whenever she so felt like it.

“They look like scars,” Wednesday replied. “The bruising will heal and the redness will fade, and-”

“But they won’t go away.” You said it with a flat disappointment. Wednesday blinked, confused by how you spoke of them. Were you unaware just how magnificent they looked upon you? The thought was vexing, and Wednesday was unsure what it was she could say to ease your mind, so she chose to say nothing at all.

You did the buttons up quickly, tugging on the collar to stand as tall as possible. It covered most of the scarring, but one could still see wisps of hurt skin on your hands and cuts across your face and jaw— Wednesday liked that one especially. You didn't seem to like any of them.

"We're going to be late to breakfast," she said, leaning with her arms crossed against the wardrobe. You shrugged again, going to grab your trousers.

"Go without me."

This caused her great pause. You were never one to miss breakfast. It was probably one of the most consistent ways someone could find you if they needed to. "It's your first day back," she argued. "And you're still recovering."

You rolled your eyes but smiled as you messed with the button of your pants, and it relaxed her a little bit, if the Addams could. "I'll survive without breakfast for a day, Wednesday. I need to get ready for class."

She narrowed her eyes at you. "Then I can survive without breakfast, too." You straightened up, sending her a look as you buttoned your trousers. You entirely knew the game that she was playing. The game she was winning, too.

"You can go without me."

"But I won't," she replied. You narrowed your eyes, grabbing some socks.

"Fine."

She glared right back, but not in an angry way. Just to let you know she was serious. "Fine." You rolled your eyes, stalking over, now that you were clothed and planting a gentle kiss on her lips. She leaned into it, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. Her thumbs brushed over the sensitive skin there.

"You win," you conceded, pulling away and looking down at her with a smile.

"I always do," she said, looking up at you with a shine in her dark eyes.

===+++===

I guess (Y/n) is back.

Oh my god, the rumours were true.

Jeeeesus Christ, that kid's face.

The thoughts flitted past you like passing trains as you walked to the quad, loud and unfiltered noise in the back of your mind that acted as a constant reminder of the new skin you wore. You wore them for her, the short girl walking next to you, but even with her right by your side, it was like she was a million miles away.

That must've hurt, holy hell.

They stared, the people you passed, watching you with a weird half-shock, half-pity, their thoughts running wild. The worst ones imagined the scenario for themselves, and within their heads you saw a dozen different replays in different ways of you getting absolutely torn apart.

How are you still alive???

Fucking jumpscare...

That was about all it took before you shut off your noise completely. Maybe for once, it was better not to know what other people were thinking. You sent a glance to Wednesday, who was walking next to you with her eyes facing ahead. When you felt the people still staring, you frowned, bumping her with your hand. You needed her to hold it very, very badly.

But she sent you a look, shaking her head once as if to say 'not here.' You knew Wednesday didn't like PDA of any sort. She still struggled sometimes to wrap her arms around your shoulders or pull you in by your waist. It wasn't natural, but you still couldn't help feeling a little bit disappointed. The imaginary distance between you both widened, right then, and other kids' staring felt amplified by ten.

Suddenly, a colourful blur came bounding across the quad and right down the hall, straight for you. "Enid— Enid, wait—" Enid tackled you in a tight hug, squeezing you against her with an unrestrained excitement and trying to shake you like a rag doll, it felt like.

"Oh my god! You're back! Oh. My. God!" She screamed, beaming from ear to ear, pulling away to look at you for a second before going right back to hugging you tightly.

You grit your teeth from the discomfort of pressure being placed on the delicate skin, but made no move to pull away, and instead did your best to smile through it. A hug felt nice. It was the warmth you needed in a place that was being so cold to you at the moment. Enid didn't care what marks you had.

"Enid, down," Wednesday said firmly, watching the exchange and carefully monitoring your expression. She had caught your grimace, sending you a wary look and crossing her arms, subtly trying to make sure you were okay. You sent her a quick nod, and Enid gently pulled away.

"Sorry," she said, wincing at realising her mistake. The expression only lasted a second though, before she was right back to smiling at you. "Wait, we're scar buddies!"

You laughed. It had been the first time you felt good about them since finding Wednesday tracing them while you slept. "We definitely are."

Enid's were a bit more healed than yours, blending better into the skin than those that protruded from the bridge of your nose and sloped down into your cheek. You saw yours and thought 'ugly'; you saw Enid's and thought nothing. But you would take it either way.

The girl grabbed your arm, tugging you harshly forwards and dragging you towards your usual table. "You have to see Yoko. Her and Divina were worried sick about you." You sent Wednesday back a look as Enid dragged you, and she shrugged, watching you go, not that she'd be able to do much to stop her.

By the time she had comfortably strolled over to the table, Enid had already dragged you into a seat, and was brightly recounting everything you had missed. Wednesday had already done so, when you were still in the hospital recovering, but you let her continue to talk. It felt nice. Like everything was back to normal for once. She slid down next to you, not saying anything.

Divina and Yoko were being nice about your scars. They kept on trying to brush past it, like nothing was wrong, but you knew when they looked at your face, it was the first thing to catch their eyes every time.

"Are you excited to be back?" Yoko asked from behind her sunglasses, leaning against Divina's shoulders.

"Making up the homework I missed out on? Super thrilled," you said dryly, putting your elbows on the table and leaning on them as you partook in the conversation.

"Well, everyone's missed you," said Divina, trying to smile, but her eyes shifted down quickly, to look at your hands and the cuts upon them before back up to you. "We're all happy you're okay."

You sent her what was supposed to be a smile, but by the look Wednesday shot at you, it probably looked a bit more like a grimace. Could you even call this 'okay?' This wasn't being okay. Being okay would've meant you looked the same as you did before, and that wouldn't happen. It had been permanently taken from you.

"So what are you all doing, for summer?" you threw out the question, more as a way to change the subject, and it was successful. Enid lit up like a Christmas tree, super excited to share about a trip she was taking to see her extended family. It wasn't that you didn't care, but you stopped for a moment, realising this was the happiest you had been in a while. At a table with your friends, and Wednesday next to you. Of course, that was when it was immediately ruined.

From behind Enid, you could see Xavier spot Wednesday and similarly light up, bounding over with a smile.

"And then we're going to the beach with my baby little cousins, and—"

"Wednesday!" he called out to her, interrupting Enid and looking across the table at the girl. Her hand crept up to your knee, placing itself firmly, in a way that told you she was dreading his presence. He looked around at you all, spotting you and failing to hide his disappointment at your return. Xavier quickly glanced back to Wednesday. "Did you get my text?" He asked, smiling again.

Wednesday stared back, unimpressed. "I did. I ignored it."

"Oh," his face dropped. "Well, I wanted to ask if you would tutor me on botany."

She blinked. "There's a week left of school."

"I know," Xavier shrugged. "But we have that end of year quiz on Wednesday."

"I would rather watch Legally Blonde." You had to stop yourself from laughing at that one. You had been the one to show that to her, and she spent the entire duration looking horrified.

"We could do that, then," he offered, and you suddenly realised you had been too nice to him in terms of pursuing Wednesday. Most people knew by now, that you two were officially together, not that it had been much of a secret, even when you were just hooking up. It was rather insane for his pursuit to continue, when you were right there.

"Xavier, I think me and Wednesday are busy, for at least the next couple days," you said, trying to let him down easy. He sent you a glare, before looking back at Wednesday like she would have a different response. She stared back, maintaining her deadpan expression, but squeezing your knee softly as if to say 'thank you.'

He frowned. "Fine. See you in fencing, (Y/n)." You smiled back at him, figuring maybe things were good now. Wednesday sent you a wary glance.

God, you couldn't have been more wrong.

===+++===

Wednesday Addams stormed through the halls of Nevermore with a fire under her feet and a rage in her heart. She pushed through the groups of people, storming up the stairs and down the corridors like she was about to explode. And she truly was.

When she arrived at your door, she was knocking heavily, small fist pounding on the wood with fury.

"(Y/n). Open the door."

No response. It was just about as quiet as it had been that morning, when she had caught you staring at yourself. It filled her with an unmatched worry, sending her back to the night when she had seen those red and blue police lights and thought she had lost you forever. "Open the door." She demanded again, pressing her ear up to it.

"Go away, Wednesday," you said from the other side. It was muffled, but she could still make out the pain in your voice.

"(Y/n), let me in. Now." It was practically a plea at that point, and she cursed you for bringing her to this place of utter weakness for you. "Either you let me in yourself, or I let myself in," Wednesday said, firmly speaking to you with her head against the door. She needed to know you were okay. It came first, right before the rage she felt for Xavier, and she so needed to know that you were still there— still hers to keep.

You didn't say anything though, choosing to continue to stay quiet in your room. Wednesday sighed, grabbing a hairpin from her pocket and reaching for the lock.

She got the door open in less than thirty seconds out of habit, pushing it open gently and letting herself in before she rushed over to you. You didn't even look at her, instead continuing to stare out the window and the sunny day, clouds floating by as if nothing were different. It felt out of place, now.

The part of your face away from the window was covered by the dark of your room. You hadn't even bothered to turn the lights on, sitting in the dark. She used to like the dark, but it felt out of place for you to be hiding in it.

"Look at me," Wednesday said, standing in front of your armchair. Her hand went to your chin, gently tilting your face up. There was a bandage right there, on your forehead, over what could only be a giant cut.

"Who told you what happened?" you asked quietly, your eyes a bit misty. You weren't a usual crier, and it made her uneasy to see just how much of an effect his actions had had on you.

"Yoko. It's about the only time that idiotic phone came in handy. I came as soon as I heard. He's not supposed to start mach when you're not wearing your helmets. Mark my words, I'll curse him until the end of time." It didn't seem to comfort you like it usually did, the pain in your eyes only worsening.

"Do you know what he said, when he cut me?"

She blinked in confusion. "He said 'Frankenstein, I'll give you one to match the others'," you finished, looking her in the eyes for the first time since she had entered the room.

"He's an asshole, I told you," she said, trying to stop you, but you jerked away from her touch for the first time.

"It's not just him. Wends, I see it all the time." Your voice broke a little bit, and you stopped to swallow before continuing. It hurt her heart, as if she was being left to die again in that crypt. "In people's heads, from their mouths, in the mirror. It replays like a fucking movie. I keep seeing myself almost die, and I'm starting to think it would've been better if I had."

No. That was enough. She firmly grabbed your chin again, eyes glinting with violence at the offensive proposition. "Never say that sentence ever again, or else."

"He's got a point though, doesn't he?" you said it slowly, your scarred hand reaching out to her arm and wrapping around her wrist. She flinched at the contact but did not pull away. "I'll never be the same 'me' as I was before. There's something— I'm wrong. And you know it, too. That's why you won't touch me when others are around. It's not me."

Wednesday stared at you for a long moment, as you began to cry. Then her hands went to your cheeks again, just as they had earlier, gently cupping your face in her hands, as if you were the world, because you were. You were her world. "You're an idiot. It appears I've failed to make myself clear."

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows furrowed.

"Your simple mind fails to realise why I'm even here," she said, and then she leaned forward, clambering up into your lap and resting her forehead on yours. Wednesday had become accustomed to, and rather fond of, making a home there. She was far from the greatest at expressions, but she wanted to make you realise the obvious and that was more than enough motivation to try. "I'm here because I burn for you, down to my core and back up again."

"But I'm not me, not with these—" But you were interrupted by her hand, sliding up to cover your mouth.

"Hush, idiot. You are the same you as before, and I wouldn't stop loving you for anything. I have loved you for all you were before and all you are now. I would have loved you if the damage was worse, and I would still yearn for you if you had died. It makes no difference, (Y/n), you fool. You're still you, and you're still as... captivating as the first time I saw you and wanted you in my possession."

Her hand came to your cheek again, stroking gently the skin there and feeling all the ridges under her thumb. "You've placed a cruel curse on me, as if you don't already know yourself. I am indefinitely, irrevocably yours. My refusal to touch you in public is a personal discomfort, but one I'll...overcome, if it means that much to you. Even if I am not touching you, you must assume I want to, because I do."

She brushed a stray tear away, wiping it on your jacket, and your hands came up to wrap around her waist, tugging her against you like you were afraid she would melt through your fingers. "Are you aware of how I was almost killed, in the crypt, when fighting Crackstone?"

You shook your head. "You don't like to talk about it," you mumbled, burying your head in her chest. Her hands went to your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp.

"It was an...incredibly confusing dilemma. I used to patiently await death. My family and I hold it with a special regard. But as I was dying, I only felt lonely. Do you know why?"

You frowned against her, shaking your head again. Wednesday scoffed. "The obvious answer is you. It would be leaving without you. And as obnoxious as it is, I don't want to. Today, tomorrow, forever; I want to do it with you."

You sat there for a moment, thinking to yourself, and then you nodded. It was slow, but it was there, and when Wednesday felt it, she sat back to look you in the eyes. "Are we clear?" She demanded. If you said no, she would only double down. But instead, you nodded again, looking up at her. She held your heart in her hands.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

You leaned forward, kissing her with the most passion you ever had, and Wednesday only returned it, cupping your neck and leaning into you. She would crawl into your skin, if she could. She'd build a little birdhouse in your soul, if she could find a way. You pulled away again, after a long minute, nodding again. "Okay. Same."

She blinked. "Same? I spill my heart to you and you respond with 'ditto'?" You laughed and she rolled her eyes, attempting to get off your lap. But your arms came up, entrapping her there and holding her close.

"You've put it perfectly. I want you forever, too." And so she melted into your embrace again, hand going to your scars to trace them and you nuzzling into her hand. It was a while, before either of you spoke.

"We have to get him back, forever, this time," Wednesday said, cold and calculating.

"Agreed."

About two days later, you watched in absolute delight as Xavier ran down the hall in his bathroom towel, a poisonous snake trailing behind him and half of his head shaved completely bald. Call it an ode of Wednesday's love.

===+++===

this was fun! i'm unsure of where to, if i do at all, take somethin' stupid from here. this won't be the only wednesday fic, so unless you all have more ideas, this may be it for this series. anyways, cheers!

[ohimsummer]

Opinions on guiding a sub puppy satoru through heat cuz... 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

— minors dni, suggestive/smut :3, blowjob/handjob, creampies, breeding kink, one mention of getting pregnant but gn! reader otherwise, puppyboy! satoru brain worms 💔 and sort of word vomit HGHDJDM also not proofread <3

i think I interpreted this right but if nawt LMKKK

SO I IMAGINE PUPPYBOY! SATORU GETS THIS INTENSE YEARNING TO BREED AT TIMES…..kind of like rutting season for deers?👀 AND IF HE CAN’T HE GETS VERY FRUSTRATED OKAY HEAR ME OUT >:3

at FIRSTT satoru tries to handle it by himself because he thinks it’s SO embarrassing…his dick is painfully hard and leaking everywhere and even though he’d usually ask you for help, he thinks you’ll laugh at him (you won’t. okay maybe a giggle but it’s because he looks so cute) and he tries to jack himself off in secret—when you’re out of the house, or in the bathroom while you’re busy, sometimes even when you're asleep in bed next to him because he’s hurting so bad <333 even with all the times he’s came in a tissue or his own boxers it’s just not the same, poor boy needs something better than his own hand 😗

so now he’s come to YOU, who satoru knows will be his savior!! approaches you one night before bed when his blue balls are literally unbearable and he can’t fathom this agony another second, he HAS to breed someone and it has to be his beloved you <3 you watch him approach with a rock-hard erection, dick a bright red and he’s leaving a trail of precum droplets behind him :<< satoru’s eyes are teary and his brows are furrowed and he has the cutest pout because he’s just so frustrated. he’s been jerking off for days now and nothing seems to be working, why does he not feel any relief??

“can you help me, please?” and he asks you in such a cute whine, ears twitching, tail wagging tentatively…you would have to be a devil to say no to him ☹️

he's a light tint of red from his ears and all the way down his neck…hands grasping and pulling at the sheets and he's squriming and wiggling and satoru is trying Extremely Hard not to buck up into your hand and mouth as you get him off. it’s almost the same thing he’s been doing but it’s your hand and your warm, wet mouth so it feels sooo SOOO much better, there are tears running down his cheeks <3 your hand is sticky with his pre and loads worth of cum, and even after all this time he’s still not satisfied. he needs to breed someone YOU and it has to be asap‼️

so you give him permission and woah you do not know how he can hold so much cum. like at this point he should be going on empty but it’s like it just keeps on coming. satoru fucks into you like this will be his very last day on earth and he’s trying to ensure you’re getting pregnant. his thrusts are fast and rough and hard and his balls slap loudly against your ass every time, and he’s moaning and whimpering so much because this is the best relief he’s felt in days. he cums in you over and over and over, again and again until you’re gushing it down your thighs and ass and onto the bed and he literally can’t move anymore. the redness of his cock has gone down by a lot and satoru doesn’t feel nearly as horny as before. seeing you stuffed so full eases the yearning desire that’s been burning within him recently, and so he can finally rest <333

hi some of my fav puppyboy! satoru enthusiasts <3 @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase okay luv u byeee 💛

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

A/n: Thought I’d actually title this bc reading it again months later I just think it needs one 🥸

gif creds @daryl-dixon-daydreams

BUSY BEE

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

[leighsartworks216]

I Was Hoping You'd Find Me Here

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Inspired by how Harvey goes from saying "I was hoping you wouldn't find me here" to "I was hoping you'd find me here" after marriage when you find him in the hedge maze. Y'all when I say I dropped everything out of nowhere, actual *hours* after getting that line, to write this, I mean it. Also not proofread bc as soon as I finished the sex-repulsion started rearing it's ugly head so if there're any typos lemme know lol

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, hand jobs, blow job mention, anxiety, embarrassment, blood mention, praise kink, slight dom/sub

Word Count: 1,863

Masterlist

AO3

"I was hoping you'd find me here." Bright blush illuminated Harvey's face even in the shadow of the looming hedges.

The farmer smirked. "Oh, were you?"

They pressed closer into his space, until the leaves behind his back were catching on the fabric of his green jacket, rustling with the disturbance of his weight. He nearly leapt out of his skin when their fingers curled around his belt loops, pulling him closer.

In the shadows of the moonlight, smirking like a cat staring down its prey, he could almost imagine them being a vampire. He gulped thinking about their teeth on his neck, biting down until they drew blood. And the hot press of their tongue lapping it up.

"What are you thinking about, darling?"

Their eyes glimmered like they knew exactly what he'd just been picturing in his mind. He felt warmth reach the tips of his ears and travel down his neck. He wasn't a stranger to intimacy, but he was all too aware of their location, and Maru just around the corner.

His spouse granted him the mercy of not having to answer as they slotted their lips over his, nipping at his lower lip. It only reignited the thoughts from before. He groaned softly, cupping their cheek and leaning into the kiss. They tasted like the breakfast he cooked for them that morning with their produce. Their skin was dusted with a fine layer of dirt, no doubt from tending to the fields before the end of the season. His thumb began brushing it away without thought, his other hand sliding up their arm to cradle their neck.

He gasped, eyes shooting wide open as the buckle of his belt loosened. The smirk from before was now a soft grin, sweet like their fresh maple syrup. “Do you want me to stop?” they whispered.

Everything in his mind said yes. They were in public for Yoba’s sake! Everyone in town was here. There was no telling when somebody could enter the maze and stumble upon them. People who were his patients, who knew him professionally, and the very few who knew him more personally.

He glanced over their shoulder.

They were in the dark… And everybody who wanted to do the maze was already in here, lost somewhere out of earshot… His only concern was Maru, but even she wouldn’t come this way unless she had reason to.

The farmer waited patiently, listening to his frantic heart as he made up his mind. Their hands were still, ready to finish undoing his belt, or to help readjust it back in place. If he asked, they’d grab his hand and drag them back home, back to bed in a mess of sloppy kisses and whispered praises.

“Harv?”

He blinked. With another anxious swallow to tamp down his fears, he kissed them again softly. “I want this,” he muttered against their lips. “I-I’ll try to be quiet.”

They kissed him back sweetly. “Good boy.”

The pet name immediately sent chills down his spine, emboldened by his belt being fully undone and his trousers being unbuttoned. It wasn’t long before their hand pushed into his pants and wrapped around his hardening cock. He keened as quietly as he could manage into their mouth. They happily swallowed up the sound with another kiss.

Their thumb stroked over his slit, spreading the beads of precum already leaking from him. He felt a bit silly, truth be told, like a teenager who snuck out to see his partner in the dead of night, hiding under school bleachers to make out. It made him feel young again. He could almost imagine himself when he was younger, head still set on becoming a pilot despite everything going against him, with a paramour of his own, on a secret, late-night outing.

Though, his secret paramour being his spouse, who chose them despite every other eligible bachelor and bachelorette who pined for their affections, made this even better than in his fantasies.

They pulled away to kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Can you be quiet for me, baby?”

He nodded before his mind even fully comprehended the question.

Their kisses trailed further along his jaw, nipping just under his jaw where any marks wouldn’t be so easily seen. (If he were shorter, anyway.) They languidly pumped his cock in their fist as they loosened his tie next, fluidly unbuttoning the first and second buttons with nimble fingers and pushing his collar aside. Wet, open-mouthed kisses decorated his clavicle. Their tongue dipped in the hollow of his throat, before sucking over his Adam’s apple. When he swallowed, they grinned against it.

He bit his lip to remind himself to be quiet, breathing heavy through his nose as they unbuttoned a few of the middle buttons in his dress shirt and pressed their hand to his stomach, sliding around to his sides.

He shivered again. Their hands were calloused from farming for almost two years straight, rough and yet so gentle with him.

They squeezed the base of his dick before pumping around the head a few times. He whimpered, clamping a hand over his mouth to stop any further sounds from slipping out. If he could, he’d be fully leaned up against the hedge, using it for support as they worked him with as much ease as they ran the farm. Unfortunately, to do so would be to fall into the branches shrouded in the mess of dark leaves.

They kissed back up to his ear, nibbling the lobe, teasing the flesh with one of their canines. He sighed shakily as the thought of vampirism shot to the forefront of his mind again.

“Where do you want to cum, baby?” They whispered against the helix of his ear. “In my hand?” They accentuated the words by dragging their middle finger along the underside of his cock, along the thick, sensitive vein. “Or my mouth?” They sucked his lobe into their mouth, swirling their tongue along it.

They were so close, they could hear and feel the effect they had on him. His heart was racing so fast and loud in his chest, he would have worried it was sounding like a drum throughout the whole town, calling everyone to their location, had he the mind for it. Instead, all he could think about was images of kissing them like a madman as he finished in their hand. Or the feeling of their hair in his hand as they swallowed around his cock, milking him until he was utterly spent. For as much as he would have loved seeing them on their knees before him, looking up at him, highlighted only by the moon in this dark alley of the maze, he feared it would completely destroy his ability to be quiet. Already, he was fighting to stay hushed, when all they’d done is touch and kiss him.

He pulled his hand from his mouth, shaking as he decided his answer. “H-Hand,” he breathed. “P-Please, honey, let me cum.”

They pushed their face into his hand to move it out of the way without having to stop feeling the hair on his chest or trailing down his stomach, or the soft fat on his sides. “I will, darling.” They kissed him long and sweet, but his mouth chased for more and more, passionate and needy as he cupped both their cheeks and pulled them closer, closer, closer.

He moaned and whimpered against their lips as they jerked him off faster. The sounds rumbled low in his throat, like a beast within him was being drawn out with their ministrations. They coaxed his mouth open with their tongue, the bitter taste of coffee mixing with their sweetness. The concerns about being silent slipped his mind entirely as he fast approached his orgasm. They diligently muffled his beautiful sounds, their own mind flooded with love and adoration for the man they chose to marry. Their wonderful, nerdy doctor.

His breath caught in his throat sharply. His hips bucked mindlessly as his cock twitched in their hand. They covered his tip with their palm, stroking just under the head with their thumb as they caught the hot strands of cum. As his dick softened, he sighed shakily against their mouth.

They pulled away first, making sure they got as much of his spend as they could before pulling their hand from his pants. Their hand left his shirt to cup his cheek. He smiled when he felt them trying to fix his mustache.

“Good?”

He nodded. “Really good,” he assured them. A new wave of blood rushed to his cheeks as he noticed their hand, awkwardly held and covered in semen. He removed himself from their hold to fish around his pockets for a packet of tissues. He pulled a couple out of the plastic and cleaned their hand, wrapping the soiled tissues in another protective layer of tissue. When he looked back up at their face, tucking the packet back into his pocket, they had a big, dopey smile on their face. “What?”

They laughed. “You, that’s what. I just didn’t expect you to have tissues.”

“I’m a doctor,” he offered as an explanation with an embarrassed chuckle.

“You’re adorable.” He began rooting around his pockets again. “Hand sanitizer?”

He must’ve been as red as a ripe tomato when he pulled out the small bottle of sanitizer. But they just chuckled and held out their hands, diligently rubbing it between each finger and down their wrists. As they did, he began putting himself back together. He rebuttoned his shirt, tucking it back into his pants to give the illusion that nothing happened. Then he zipped, buttoned, and buckled his trousers once more. His spouse finished cleaning their hands just in time to fix his tie, pressing a kiss to his chin when they finished.

“Ah, thank you, for that, by the way,” he stammered.

They adjusted his collar and smiled warmly at him. “Of course. It was my pleasure.” They grabbed his hand and tugged him out of the alley. “If you wanna wait out there, it shouldn’t take me long to get the golden pumpkin.”

He tugged on their hand, pulling them to a stop just before the entrance of the maze. His heart began racing again as he tried not to regret what he was about to say. “C-Can I go with you?”

“Are you sure?”

He looked down the path, toward where Maru meandered about, trying to gather her sense of direction. It was lit well enough… He tried to ignore the grabby hands peeking around the corner.

The farmer squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to, Harvey. I know you don’t like scary things.”

“I…” He took a deep breath, looking at them once more. “I want to. You make me want to be brave.”

They beamed up at him, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “Okay, if you say so. Don’t let go of my hand, right?”

He held on a bit tighter. “Right.”

Together, they marched into the haunted hedge maze.

…

Harvey stuck around with Abigail until the farmer came back with the prize.

[tenjikyu]

So! My birthday's coming up here soon, and as you know, I am very obsessed with tokyo revengers. Therefore, here is my first request to you :)

How about headcanons on how mitsuya, sanzu, angry, smiley, and mikey would celebrate reader's birthday? preferably romantic but platonic is okay too. If you don't want to write all of them, you can choose a few to get rid of. These guys are my favorites so I couldn't not include them ♡

Sorry if there's not a lot of info to go off of!

— 🎭

𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴!

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ multiple x gn!reader, excessive fluff and humour, we love the toykorev boys they’re adorable, i hope you like ghibli because it’s referenced in angry’s.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ happy birthday !! it took me a hot minute bc i needed to re-remember the tokyo rev characters and their personalities but i’m back on track now people. i was worried about getting this out late so i ended up removing smiley from the request but i did my best for everyone else(i’m very sorry 😭). I REALLY HOPE YOU GET THIS BEFORE YOUR BIRTHDAY AND IF NOT, HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY 🎭 ANON

takashi mitsuya.

༄ takashi could NEVER EVER let your birthday JUST be your birthday, he always does something extra special for you on your special day.

༄ it starts off with a special birthday morning call, an online kiss and a promise to take you out at 10:00.

༄ mitsuya lets you enjoy a nice breakfast with your family if you wish to, and comes to pick you up after you’ve gotten ready for the day ahead!

༄ pulling up on his motorcycle, he gives you your special helmet (that he chose in your favourite colour), and takes you for a morning bike ride around the city.

༄ he eventually leads you to a serenic park with good shade and sun leaking through the trees.

༄ no matter if your birthday takes place in a warm or cold season, mitsuya makes the best of a picnic in the park! he brings beverages and home baked goods that his sisters helped make just for you!

༄ mitsuya is the type to make something personal and thoughtful, so i believe a birthday gift from him would include a heartfelt letter, special chocolates, and a crochet stuffed animal with a bow on it! he prides himself in his efforts, seeing the huge smile on your face as you open your special gift.

༄ he takes you back to his home, in which you’re overrun by his younger sisters who were elated to see you. you’re their favourite person (besides their big brother), so it was hard to wrangle them off of you.

༄ mitsuya makes you your favourite dish as a birthday dinner, where all four of you sit down and ramble on about your day, as well as anything that comes to the two girls minds.

༄ as the end of your birthday approaches, luna and mana have to be pried off your leg with whines begging you to stay the night. once you’re out the door however, mitsuya tells you he wants to walk you home.

༄ once he drops you home, he kisses you goodnight and makes sure you’re in doors before he walks off, silently fisting the air in success on your special day.

manjiro sano.

༄ i don’t think mikey would forget your birthday, but i can totally see him leaving plans to the last minute. he’s not a very organised soul after all.

༄ at the ripe time of 7:00 in the morning, you’re promptly awoken by a knock on your window. to your surprise, manjiro was wide awake (which is a rarity) and informs you that you will not be attending school today, but instead going on a “birthday adventure” with your “beloved boyfriend”.

༄ thankfully your family was planning to give you the day off regardless, so you rush to get ready (in your tired state as it is), and head out to meet up with your blonde boyfriend.

༄ as you walk out the door, you’re incased in a bear hug by mikey, as he excitedly shows off the silly little flowers he (didn’t) pay for. they were your favourite flowers, and they didn’t seem cheap, however you decided against bringing it up and enjoyed the fresh scent in the early breeze.

༄ much like mitsuya, mikey takes you for a drive, however this is because he’s taking you to an all-you-can-eat-buffet! manjiro tells you it’s because they have good breakfast & lunch choices, however you know it’s an excuse to stuff his mouth.

༄ regardless, the both of you enjoyed a nice breakfast together, before manjiro takes you onto the next phase of the birthday date.

༄ you’re surprised when he pulls up to the local aquarium, with two premium tickets in hand. by premium, you mean you get an exclusive front row seat for any show you wish to see, as well as close access to certain life living there.

༄ walking around the aquarium, manjiro sneaks cute pictures of you looking into the glass and admiring the life around you, from the illuminated jellyfish to the dolphins exhibit, your boyfriends eyes hardly left your face, making sure your smile lingered.

༄ after the end of the date, you head over to the little souvenir shop, where mikey buys you a plushie of your choice. of course, you attempt to deny but he won’t let you.

༄ by the end of your date, manjiro drops by his home so you can see his sister. elated, emma jumps into your arms and welcomes you in, where she makes everyone a special dinner for you all.

༄ on the drive back to your home, manjiro silently thanks whatever being graced his life with your presence, even when your fast asleep on his shoulder with drill beginning to dribble.

angry.

༄ a gentle soul like angry has everything planned out. he has his brother give him his honest (and brutal) opinions on how to make this the PERFECT date.

༄ your day starts off usually, your family celebrates your birthday and gives your your presents and a good breakfast, you get ready for school and you get a sweet good morning call from your beloved boyfriend.

༄ as you leave your house, you see angry parked outside your home, and he tells you that he’s gonna be your personal taxi driver to school today!

༄ like a true gentleman, he wraps your arms around his torso and gives you a helmet to protect yourself, he waves your family goodbye and sets off to your school.

༄ as the school day passes you by, you get another message from the man of the hour, letting you know he’s gonna take you out for the remainder of the day.

༄ you wave your friends goodbye, and meet up with your boyfriend, who greets you with his signature frown.

༄ as you ride around, you soon find yourself in what seems to be a ghibli café. you smile in excitement, rushing in to see what it looked like inside.

༄ a massive totoro plushie greets you, and you see all the ethereal artwork studio ghibli offers hung across the walls.

༄ you sit down with your boyfriend, and order some themed food based on your favourite movies. you see howls moving castle themed furniture, a no-face holographic hovering around, the production of ponyo explained on a little TV, as well as a little kiki on her broom flying around the café.

you get heaps of photos, however you boyfriend only admires the look of admiration on your face, knowing how hard it is to reserve a seat in this café.

after you enjoyed your meal, he takes you home once again on his bike, driving safely (for once) and drops you home, but not before gifting you a keychain of no-face you were admiring from the souvenir shop.

༄ your smile increasing in size, you clip it to your bag, before ksiing angrys cheek goodnight and running in doors.

haruchiyo sanzu.

༄ sanzu is a “actions speak lourdes then words” kinda dude, so he takes you out on a date to the museum!

༄ he wakes you up via ringing the doorbell, and being invited in by your mother (who dearly loves your boyfriend).

༄ sanzu shares a breakfast with your family, takes photos with you and then lets you go get dressed for your little date.

༄ as you enter into the museum, you see all sorts of preserved artworks and sculptures in your line of sight, filling your vision to the brim.

༄ regardless of this being your forté or not, the museum never fails as a good date spot.

༄ you go from room to room, carefully in taking all the information on the little plasters. from painting to painting, you find yourself immersed and drawn in, all the while your boyfriend held onto your hand.

༄ sanzu allowed you to go at your own pace, not caring much for it but knowing it was entertaining you, so it was enough for him.

༄ tugging him around like a dog, you find yourself in the museum for hours before you leave the premises. sanzu asks if you enjoyed yourself, and you giddily replied you loved it.

༄ you didn’t know it at the time, but he sniped a cute photo of you looking at a large painting and made it his personal background for his phone, admiring it as he took you to lunch.

༄ after lunch, sanzu informs you that he has business to attend to, but regrets it as soon as the dejected look crossed your face, hoping to spend the full day with him.

༄ without hesitation, sanzu lets you know it’s quick business that shouldn’t take an hour or so, and drops you off at a mall with your friends to enjoy yourself, and lets you know he’ll pick you up to drive you home.

༄ as the evening sets and you wave your friends goodbye, sanzu meets up with you. you rush into his arms, and he holds onto you dearly.

༄ he takes you in a late night drive as a way to make up for missing out on part of your day, however you reassure him that it’s nothing and allow him to ramble, something he rarely does.

༄ as he drops you home, you place a gentle kiss to his nose, and tell him you’ll see him later, leaving him slightly flustered.

༄ what have you done to him.

[desceros]

I gotta request a mating season scenario with Bayverse Donnie X Reader - Mutual Pining and Smut (I love him so much).

[openly weeping] thank you for giving me the excuse to write this anon-chan, you're too good, too pure donatello/reader, EXPLICIT, female reader, 1.9k. donnie's been too shy to take that plunge, but you just smell so good and it's that time of year

You’ve been friends with Donnie long enough to… think about it. What it would be like to let him know how pretty he is. To sit in his lap and press your forehead to his jaw. 

(To unbuckle those suspenders and maybe see what kind of mischief you can get up to.)

To… hold his hand. To… to belong to him.

…But you’ve probably been friends for too long, you think. The relationship would have changed by now if he was interested. He’s not the kind of guy to want something without having it for very long, not without doing something about it. It’s not gonna happen. It’s a wild, hilarious thought—you’ve been friendzoned by a turtle—but that’s just the life you have now, you guess.

So when it finally, suddenly happens, to say you’re surprised is a bit of an understatement.

You’re in his lab, helping him organize his screwdriver collection. Sometimes they get a little mixed up if he gets worked into a frenzy or so tired his eyes start to blur, and it feels good to help him. He likes having your hands for the more boring chores, and you like basking in the dorky little smile he gives you as thanks.

Lost in the monotonous task, you don’t notice him staring, his eyes burning between your shoulder blades, until you feel him in your personal bubble. It’s a blink of time, a breath of awareness, then everything changes.

Donnie tucks his face into your throat, his plastron pressed along your spine as his hands cup your hips and pull them back into his own. Shocked at the intimacy of the touch, you feel yourself go still in his hold, wondering if there’s a gas leak in his lab and you’re hallucinating. 

His mouth parts, his teeth find your pulse, and you decide this is very, very real.

“D… Donnie?” you manage, voice syrupy in your own ears.

“…Smell good,” he murmurs into your skin, pressing into you harder, stepping impossibly closer, forcing you forward until your thighs are caught between his and the edge of the table and you have to smack your palms onto it to keep upright. A cup of screws falls over, spills; but he doesn’t react. Your eyes dart over to the door of his lab; it’s wide open, and you’re not even remotely tucked away back here. 

“Donnie—Donnie, what are you—” you say, though your voice catches in your throat when you feel him turn his head, tucking his beak behind your ear and brushing a long line of claiming kisses down to your shoulder. Your eyes flutter, blood beginning to rush hot in your veins even as you look again to the door of his lab.

Donnie, if he cares, doesn’t show it. Not in the way he slides one hand up your shirt, seeking skin and seeming intoxicated when he finds it. You feel his moan between your shoulder blades as much as you hear it, making your eyes squeeze shut. Oh, wow, that’s—that’s even better than all the times you’ve imagined it, and you’ve maybe imagined it a lot. 

“…too soon,” he mumbles, though how you’re able to catch it when his fingers are fumbling at the button to your jeans, you’re not sure how. 

“Wh… What’s too soon?” you ask, licking your lips and trying to scoop enough consciousness together to talk. “Don—Donnie, you—Did you drink something? Smell something? This is—”

Donnie stops, his forehead finding your shoulder. He’s shaking, you realize, but when you try to turn he presses you harder against the table, pinning you into place. Oh god, oh fuck.

“About two weeks early,” he says through what sounds like clenched teeth. “Shouldn’t—Shouldn’t be happening yet. Normally I can feel it coming on and warn you, but—Have I ever told you you smell really good? You smell so good—”

He shifts his face again, pressing his beak to the corner of your throat and shoulder to inhale deeply. Your hair stands on end, goosebumps flaring down your skin like wildfire. An embarrassing noise catches in your throat. You swallow it, brow furrowing. “What’s early?”

His lips move in a mumble that disappears into the neckline of your shirt. A neckline which, you suddenly realize, is damp from where he’s mouthing at it. Like he’s trying to take it off of you with his teeth. That’s—okay. That’s a lot.

“Didn’t catch that,” you wheeze. 

“…mating season,” he enunciates, igniting every single cell in your body. 

“You… have a mating season,” you choke, staring deliriously at one screw that slowly spins in a circle. He nods. “And you—You’re doing this with—me?” 

“Always you,” he says, starting to ramble as he tugs at the hem of your shirt like it’s offending him. “Every Spring, I feel it coming and you always look so pretty and happy. I’ve been wanting to ask you for years, but I—I’ve never worked up the cour—You smell so fucking good. Can I—I want to—” He whines, trembling, you think, from the concentration it’s taking for him to hold back and speak. His hands are tight on your sides, gripping you, just shy of where it’ll leave a mark.

Your eyes burn as you squeeze them shut. There’s a conversation to be had here, about why he was so fucking stupid and didn’t talk to you, about how much you’ve wanted this too, about what it’s going to mean—but that can be had later, especially considering you’re not completely sure he’s all there. 

“Yeah,” you gasp out, reaching out a hand to snatch at his and bring it to the button of your jeans again. “Yeah, let’s—yes.”

His wrist twists and he’s got his fingers inside your underwear faster than you can suck in a breath at the sudden jolt of pleasure. Beak pressed to your cheek, you hear Donnie chanting thank you thank you thank you, mouth hanging open before he brings his slick fingers to his mouth to slide them inside and wrap his tongue around them. 

“Donnie, fuck,” you breathe when he groans like he took a hit of something hard. It’s wet in your ear, and when he slides his fingers back to your clit and starts to trail biting kisses along your jaw, you can’t help but think about it. Your arms quake where they’re holding you up, helping you press against him, taking the weight of where he’s draped himself like he wants to be your shell.

An impatient noise rips out of his throat, and you feel his other hand tugging at the waist of your jeans. Huffing a laugh at his uncharacteristic ineffectiveness, you grab his wrists to pull him away before you shimmy them down your legs. 

…It’s right when he gets his fingers inside you, stretching you, pretty moans of your name in your ear, when you remember the whole door situation. 

“Donnie—”

“Wanna fuck you,” he slurs against your nape. Your skin stretches too-tight, the bottom of your stomach dropping out in arousal. “Smell like you. Want you to smell like me—” 

He grabs something out of the toolbox, a loud clattering sound, and you feel your panties go slack at your hip, then fall to the floor when he pulls the fabric away. “You—Did you just cut my—”

“In the way. More efficient,” he answers, dropping whatever it was back into place without a care. There goes your toolbox organizing, though it’s maybe hard to care when you feel something slick rub against you, his tail dipping between your legs and pressing close. “Mmm. Spread your legs, pretty. Little more. There, right there.”

He holds you still when he’s happy with your position, one hand at your hip and the other spreading you open in a manner that has the whole door situation falling pretty low on your thinking about this right now list. You’re more interested in the glide of his cloaca against you, the promise of his hitched breath in your ear, the wet kiss that morphs into a low moan as he drops inside of you. 

“Donnie,” you moan, head falling between your rolled shoulders as pleasure makes you tremble. It feels incredible how he fills you, your lungs unable to expand to breathe as it feels like he’s all the way in your throat. His hands grab your hips and tilt them, using them as leverage as he ruts wetly in a filthy glide that makes you mewl and twist. 

Through the fog of bliss, you hear him; he’s babbling, nigh-incoherently. You can just make out a few phrases here and there—so pretty, smell so good, fill you up, breed you full—that make you absolutely incinerate. It feels like he’s consuming you, his whines and moans ringing in your ears. 

The rising tide of ecstasy burns like fire in your veins, your teeth releasing your lip as you’re no longer able to contain the animal noises he’s clawing out of you. Nails dragging along the surface of his table, you come, wailing his name. He presses, making your elbows bend, and you fold into the table as he rails into you with hard slapping hips until he, too, climaxes. His forehead presses hard between your shoulder blades as he fills you, hot and more than you’ve ever taken before, until you feel it running down your legs where you can’t take any more. 

“…Holy shit,” you pant, barking a disbelieving laugh. Donnie, seeming annoyed that you’re able to talk, sinks his teeth into your throat before he kisses it to soothe. 

“Sorry, I, uh. I was hoping we’d talk about that before it happened,” he says once he can breathe again, sounding a little guilty. You shoot him an incredulous look over your shoulder. 

“Are you insane? You just made me come my brains out. How are you apologizing right now? That’s, like, the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” You glance to the door. “Um. Even if I’m pretty sure everyone else heard it, too.” 

He huffs a laugh, nuzzling his face into your nape. “They’re, uh. Gone. For the week. I’m usually on a bit of a delayed cycle from the others, but I think you being here triggered it. I always love how you smell, and I guess the turtle brain just decided it was tired of waiting on me.” 

Oh, that’s… really sweet, you think, trying not to cry. You lick your lips, opening your mouth to speak only for a whimper to come out instead, forehead rolling on the table’s surface, when you feel his cock start to slide out. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s—” he breathes, hips pressing a little harder against your own until you feel empty again. As he moves, you hear the wet sound of his cloaca rubbing against you. “Huh. You’re kind of a mess.” 

“Yeah, thanks for that,” you wheeze, trying not to get turned on again when you’d just come. “So, um… season. That’s like, more than once, right?” 

There’s a moment of silence, and then you feel a smile on your back that’s a little shy, and a lot hungry. 

[synnamonroll666]

(Hello hi, I love your work, first of all). For NSFW headcanons... maybe sneaking a semi-public quickie with our resident lizard man?

Hi! Thank you so much! 💚 I originally intended on this being shorter but I got very carried away with this. It was so fun to write! 🤭 I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And let me know if you have any other head-canon or fic ideas! 💚 NSFW below!

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

Usually, Syzoth was pretty good at keeping his feelings in order. Whenever he was out and felt the room getting hotter and his pants getting tighter, he would always be quick to put his mind to something else and forget about the feeling until he could deal with it later.

But this wasn't any ordinary day for Syzoth; it was mating season. Usually, during this difficult time, Syzoth could still manage to hide his feelings. Sure, he would be a bit more moody and short-tempered than usual, but he could still keep himself from pouncing on the first girl he laid his eyes on. He's not an animal, after all. (Actually— 👀😂)

But that all changed when he met you. Even when you began dating, he would heavily avoid you during these times because he never knew if he could control himself around you. And that theory turned out to be true when he accidentally ran into you in the streets of Outworld during on one of his most feral days.

He was supposed to be delivering a message for the empress, but that mission was replaced with a much more lewd one when he saw you.

You were surprised when he grabbed you by the wrist and forcefully dragged you behind one of the barren shopping stalls set up in the streets. And you were even more surprised when he slammed you up against the wall and collided his beautiful lips to yours. You figured that the owner of the stall must have been out to lunch, but you didn't know for sure when they would be back. The thought alone made your knees weak from nerves and arousal.

Teaching Syzoth how to kiss was definitely rewarding, and you smiled wickedly into the kiss as you thanked the Elder Gods that you decided to do so that day. He had been so nervous to do such a thing that he didn't think he was ready for. But you slowly eased him into it and found that he was quite a skilled learner.

He pried your lips apart with his spade tongue, and you let out a soft moan as it caressed yours passionately, all while his hands were slowly travelling up your body to intensely squeeze your breasts. When you got too loud, Syzoth pulled away and pressed his hand to your mouth before firmly shushing and scolding you.

Something was different in his eyes that day. They didn't have the usual light and softness that you were used to within them. Instead, they looked hungry and gazed upon you as if you were his prey.

It didn't take long for him to have your pants around your ankles. You tried not to cringe when you heard thread snap as he tore them down, but the burning arousal within your core told you not to worry about it for now. Luckily, the stall you hid behind did sell clothing. How convenient!

Any other day, Syzoth would look up at you apologetically if he did anything destructive like this, but today it was clear that he couldn't care less.

And as soon as his cock was freed from the confines of his pants, he buried it to the brim within you as he let out a hiss of satisfaction. You almost didn't get a chance to see how painfully hard he was—how his tip leaked pre-cum like a facet for you. But that didn't matter because you could feel it deep within your tight walls.

Your head lolled back as you let out a heavenly sigh, but just as you began to get lost in that daydreamy cloud of pleasurable bliss, you heard something that made you go pale. Suddenly, there were more voices than just the usual amount on the busy streets of Outworld. In fact, it sounded as if people were gathering around.

Syzoth let something in Zaterran—which you assumed to be a curse word—slip off his forked tongue. You both clued in at the same time that it was the day for the annual parade the royals would throw. Syzoth's mind must have been so fogged by the heat of his rut that he forgot it was on this very date.

But instead of pulling out—like you expected him to—Syzoth gripped your shoulders firmly and began quickly pumping himself in and out of your hole. You let out startled gasps as he abused your pussy, bruising your cervix more each time he thrusted himself into you.

One of his hands moved from your shoulder to press against your lips and seal your moans within again as he picked up his pace, moving at a speed that was humanly impossible.

Between your walls getting filled perfectly by his thick length over and over, the sounds of your mate's feral growls in your ear, and the thrill of the small chance of getting caught in your naughty situation, it didn't take long for that coil of pleasure within to snap and have you seeing stars as you met your climax. And Syzoth followed shortly after, digging his nails deep into your flesh as he growled like a rabid dog while filling your walls with thick ropes of his hot cum.

You ignored the sting of overstimulation in your core and the angry crescents engraved in your shoulders as you let him ride out his high. The way your walls fluttered around him as you reached your climax must have been the last straw for your poor Ninja, knocking him into one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

After his high came to an end, he rested his forehead against yours while letting his eyes flutter shut. There was a moment of peace and the two of you listened to the people enjoying the festival around you while you could feel his cooling seed drip down your thighs and legs, reminding you that you'd have to get a pregnancy test soon.

After coming to and noticing that your blood had been welling up under his nails from how hard they dug into your flesh, Syzoth pulled away and began showering you with praises and compliments. He asked if you were okay and if you could walk, which you told him you would manage.

After taking some pants from the stall you hid behind and leaving some money on the counter, you and Syzoth shared one final kiss and said your goodbyes before parting ways so he could finish his mission to deliver the empress' message. After being left behind, you decided to enjoy the rest of the parade before going home to prepare for a long night of round two. ♡

⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒⛥⭒

[coffeegnomee]

Bacon saying "yes. [I watched] the entire thing" about having seen Kab's new video "I watched it for entertainment purposes, but I also think I took some things from it as well"

KAB: "fair enough, I put things in there knowing people would watch it and take things from it"

she brings up how Clown never offered her a team, and that she is close to getting his full trust. Which I think is a lie rooted in the truth that she was so "my son could never hurt a fly he's just misunderstood" in the video to get Clown to trust her more irl/in lifesteal. Like how he trusts Branzy and Ferre.

(even though it is SO WEIRD for her to have been like that about Clown in the video. Like it was an exposé about how right the Mice were to be cautious about her affiliation and assume she was telling him things. She was. Maybe not base coords, but she just leaked that she absolutely told him things about them and that she was not for the team at all. And she left that all in. why? WHY Kab? I can only assume it was to endear her to Clown more? That's the only thing that makes sense? Unless she did it to "prove" to the Mice that they were wrong to assume she was teamed with Clown, "see I was just telling him to be careful and you guys were making him into a villain" or smth. I genuinely don't know. I don't understand her at all.)

But she's bringing it up to Bacon and downplaying it so that he thinks she isn't as close to Clown as she is. She's trying to manipulate him here I think.

then Bacon brings up the google doc of Mapicc's personality, which apparently Mapicc dmed her about (which is hilarious for the record)

To which she says it wasn't real [the doc itself], she made it for the video. She only articulated Mapicc's personality and Mapicc's alone.. which obviously means it was him very much on purpose. So did she do it to stoke Mapicc's ego? Or to see what he would say about it and confirm or deny if she was right? I can so easily imagine her writing it up being like, now Mapicc will think I understand him but this is not really what I think about him and he will be easier to manipulate.

But the analysis, like I wrote about, was right for the wrong reasons, AND YET I saw how they were rooted in very plausible assumptions she would have made bc of talking to Ash.

So I struggle to see how that writeup wasn't what she genuinely thought. This whole video just feels like exactly what she genuinely thought throughout the whole first week.

And it's completely rooted in the concept that she knows what she's talking about, even though her only evidence is that she can read Clown. (the only other moment being that she was right the empire would betray them in the End. Which was the softest of softball throws. It was an allyship against the other team. Obv the beef starts up the second that is over.) Like congrats. You've known Clown for two years very closely. It would be weird if you didn't. And on THAT note,

She called Woogie a dipshit for having his own opinions about Clown based on his interactions with him for the past FIVE whole seasons. THREE YEARS.

She took his words as saying that you shouldn't trust Clown instead of what he was really trying to say, which was we as a team should not trust Clown. Kab knows Clown won't kill her but she just fails to understand that other people have their own valid experiences of the members. She's just so focused on her singular view of people and how they will interact with her that she completely misses the opportunity to learn what other people think of other people without it being an attack on her own opinion.

I know I get on here and analyze everyone to death. I know that that's how I love to watch and enjoy lifesteal. And that not everyone observes the lifestealers like bugs to be pinned down and dissected. Watching vods is a listening-only experience. I cannot talk or add to the convo, right?

But it still boggles my mind that she doesn't see the manipulative value in silently listening to every word that comes out of someone's mouth in order to learn what they think about others. And let that tell you what to think about others.

If she just listened to what people said, especially what they say about people she doesn't understand, she would learn SO much.

Like she completely called Woogie an idiot for wanting to ally with the Empire for the purpose of killing Clown Mane and Flame.

And she said it because she doesn't understand how Mapicc and Spoke think.

And because she doesn't understand them, she thinks Woogie doesn't understand them.

Like I know Woogie isn't always the most active and integrated member, and he's also an unreliable narrator and has assumptions rooted in a subjective path just like she does.

But Woogie AND Mapicc AND Spoke have all been playing on this server since Season ONE. You would think that that would be an excellent learning opportunity to ask Woogie how he views Mapicc and Spoke.

And then from there, sure! Take it with a grain of salt. Take your personal experiences with them as the most important opinion to value for your own safety (bc nobody can tell you what your gut says) but then also take their opinion and use it against them if you want to be such a great manipulator. Or at the very least catalogue their opinion away for further study at a future time.

It's just. She just has her assumptions about herself towards every member and completely and totally discounts what anyone has to say about their assumptions of themselves with other members. And she gets so damn triggered by people saying they have more experience than her, thinking it's a personal attack on her intelligence. Where that comes from I cannot know but that sounds incredibly deeply rooted.

So back to the Bacon conversation.

She said she knew people would watch it and said stuff on purpose.

And yet she completely left in the whole scene about lying to Woogie about being sorry for discounting his opinion. “Sometimes you need to be sopping wet for people to trust you chat”

Everyone on lifesteal is going to watch this video. WOOGIE might watch this video (though I have a feeling he won't tbh) and you're just leaving in that when you apologize you are never sincere about it and are 100% using that to manipulate them later.

INSANE to leave that in. You leave that in the drawing board. You keep that shit hidden. ESPECIALLY if you know your enemies will watch it. Girl was the most open book ever.

And then to end the video saying I'm a liar and manipulator bitch I know what I'm talking about. Insane. You are just BROADCASTING that you should never be trusted ever. (for the second video in a row!)

Also in a video about you desperately trying to prove that you should be trusted. It's two different kinds of trust, funny that we use the same word for both.

Trusted in that you tell the truth vs trusted that you know what you're talking about.

I am so interested to know what Bacon thought of that. What will he think if she does apologize now? He's not dumb. He saw the video.

She just thinks she's playing 4D chess. And yet 4D chess would be being silent and listening to what everyone says. Like how Spokes does. and Clown. No talking, just silently listening in vc's and coming to conclusions about the members.

And Bacon too. He's been asking people so many questions about what they're doing and why and then just listening to what they have to say, and then forming his own conclusion about it and going off to try something. He's becoming great at listening and thinking and this whole little arc was founded on using that information to do something interesting on the server.

Though I suppose he wasn't always that good at it. And therefore the final conclusion you can take is the same every time: Kab needs experience in order to gain experience. And it will be a long and painful process.

[yeyinde]

I know this would be terribly inaccurate and morally wrong, but it's taking too much space up in my brain and I can't write NSFW to save my life and I'll stop rambling and get to the point about this random hoe ass dream I had the other night about Bear (Graves).

But that table in the middle of their storage area room thing (with the cages)? Imagine getting railed on that table. Horrible consequences if you're caught, but in the moment that doesn't matter.

I didn't even really clock the morally wrong portion of this until just now—I just immediately started writing it.

Warnings: MATURE | 18+ — pseudo exhibition kink, corruption (as in, MC does everything possible to break Bear), risk-seeking behaviour; light smut Word Count: 2,2k Notes: it's been so long since I wrote smut that I kinda forgot how. alsoooooooo. it's deffo early season 2 Bear. With the beard and the unhinged madness and tragic angst. Okay? Okay.

It's a whim. 

One of those terrible ideas you sometimes get—like the insatiable curiosity to know what it would feel like to snuff out an open flame between your thumb and forefinger, or lick the anode and cathode of a 9V battery just for the thrill of it. The electric hum of recklessness that surges through your veins, pitched right between the accompanying high of a short-lived adrenaline rush. An addictive sense of danger that isn't really dangerous. 

It isn't enough to kill you, or cause any severe injuries—no. You're not stupid. It's just one of those passing no good, bad, and very terrible ideas that leak from that place inside your head where madness and idiocy spool. 

Sometimes, it doesn't even hurt. 

(But you've always liked it better when it does.)

This, then, must be that. 

This, of course, being: 

Bear—so austere, so stalwart—bracing his thick fingers against the back of your neck, palm so wide it swallows you whole. Clipped nails pinching your skin when he digs in tight, holding on to you as he fucks you stupid, fucks you senseless against a metal table, perfectly perched in the middle of the room like an altar. 

His nails cut a scratch on your hip when he pulls you back by the bone to meet his heavy, hurried thrusts, growling low in his throat at the madness of this all. The danger. The recklessness. 

Eyes oscillating between the open doorway split into three possible entry points where anyone—Chase, Trevor, Buddha, Caulder—could walk in and see, catching Bear fucking you over a table; and you—

Bent over, fingers scratching at the linoleum beneath your hands, keening desperately for more. 

It's more brutal than you'd expect him to be considering where you are, where he is, but there's a weight to the way he pounds into you, a palpable sense of urgency, and need. Rapacious, you think, and wonder if it's the tantalising aspect of exhibitionism, the fear of getting caught, that brims white-hot in the balmy air between you, or if it's the setting alone that threatens to undo him. 

Fucking out in the open—with a man who yelped when you tried to ride him on the bed of his stupid pickup truck under the stars; vanilla incarnate, all American apple pie left to cool on an open windowsill in the heartland—is probably as close to true trouble as a man like him, the one bent over you now, has come before. You wonder if this is his Saddam. If he scents brimstone in the air when he curls over you, staining your skin with droplets of sweat that pools down from his brow, drips off his temples. 

It was that same sweat that started it all. 

Anger carved canyons into his forehead, ploughing five neat, little lines through tanned skin—flushed slightly pink near his hairline, and bleeding down across the bridge of his nose, the patch of skin between his lash line and beard, undoubtedly from standing on the sun-beaten shores of Virginia Beach all morning. The sweat that beaded across his skin was patchy, drying into patches of congealed salt above his brow, but dripping down his temples in rivulets of exertion, and cutting a clear path to his jaw, where it fell, pooling like a lagoon in the dips of his collarbones. 

You wanted to lick it off. 

An odd thought considering the arched reprimand he was in the middle of doling out. Sharp, slurred words of can't be here, and reckless, all undercut with an air of something balmy, something hot that simmers below the surface. 

His eyes flashed, cool blue to cobalt, when you lifted your shoulder in a lazy, half-hearted shrug, shirt slipping down, exposing skin to his irritated gaze, and, oh. Oh. 

The scorching heat you felt wafting off of him in puffs of humid air had little to do with temperature, with anger. 

The words, then, took on a new meaning. 

Can't be here, can't do this here. Reckless. 

And so, you leaned up on the tips of your toes, and flicked your tongue across his skin, eyes lidded and heavy as the briny tang of sweat and seawater flooded your senses. 

It was surprising that he let you. That after some more growling protests about shame, and public decency, he quieted fairly quickly when you slipped your hand into his trousers, letting the heft of him fill your palm. 

An incorruptible man, corrupted.

Opposites attract, you think, and then bite the notion in half when he slides in as deep as he can go, husking out a muted fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so fuckin' good into your shoulder. Opposites, maybe. But something about the way he grabs you hard enough to leave marks on your bones, drags you back into his harsh ruts, his frantic pace, makes you think something reckless, something damning, lives inside him, too. 

(He never would have let you tug his trousers down over his hips, let you arch over the table for him, if he didn't, after all.)

"This is—" his breath is humid on your skin, hands spasming over your flesh. You taste clarity in his words. Cognisance bleeds into them, spilling panic, and frenzied worry over your flesh. "This is stupid. We're gonna get caught—"

He huffs, and the rough scratch of his beard skates over your skin when he mouths against the curve of your bone. 

There is a moment when you think he might pull away. Where the urge, the drive, to be proper and pious, prim and good, brim up through the overwhelming dizziness of cacoëthes that spindles through your marrow, but you arch into him until you're pressed taut to his hips, full and gasping from having big Bear inside of you this deep, and tuck it back into the box it snuck out of. 

There's no place for decency when he has you bent over a table where anyone can wander past and see how good you take him. 

So, you push back against him, taking him in as deep as you can, and then deeper still when his hips stutter at the sudden push. It edges into too much when he's pressed flush against the soft curve of your ass, but you swallow down the whimper, and rock back on your heels, swaying against him until all you see is hazy gunmetal swimming in front of your eyes. 

It's always on that uneven edge of pain with Bear—dual sensations of too much intermixed with a heady thrum of pleasure that buffers out everything. A test of your mettle. He quizzes you on the limits of your resolve when he bucks his hips, sliding inside as deeply as he can go. Eking out a place within you that you might have been untouched, undiscovered, until him. 

Where his tests are physical—pushing into you as deep as he can, until you swallow him whole—you excel in destruction. The erosion of propriety. His self-control. 

(He shatters so prettily in your hands, like a supernova scattering across the inky black sky.)

This, then, is his test. 

And he clues into it almost as quickly as the plan formed inside your head, spooling fast and recklessly in that place that convinces you that adrenaline is your friend, and that climbing higher is always the goal. The spot inside that makes you always pick dare instead of truth. 

Bear knows—knew—of your plans when you pressed your lips to his, and still let you. A quick glance to the open doorway as you slide your tongue against his. The press of his fingers on the bow of your lips, a firm admonishment not to be too loud. 

You could take it as: 

Don't let us get caught. 

And you do. But you also hear the unsaid words murmured into your ear when he fucked you harder, hips pistoning into you as if daring you to make a sound:

Don't let this end too soon. 

"You're so bad, Bear," you coo, words tangled in pleasure as the blunt head of his cock batters into that spot behind your navel that never fails to make you sing. It rises. A quick flash of heat roiling in your belly; the whine of a coil being pulled too tight. Liquid bliss in red-hot agony. "Fucking me like this. I bet you want them to see. I bet you want them to watch you fuck me, don't you?"

The hiccup in your voice belies the accusations in your words. A tremulous, teasing warble that is met with his sharp, heady groan. 

"Oh, f–fuck—"

He's close. You feel him swell. Hear the rumble in chest as he loses that mechanical rhythm; a stutter of his breath, his hips. The bones in your hip ache when he digs in tight, holding you still as he pounds you with a fury unmatched by anyone else you'd ever known. He takes you like he's working out a problem. Like he's on the opposite lines of an allegiance, and is trying to fuck you stupid enough to ramble out the answers to the questions he asks. It disintegrates into madness. Desperation. His measured thrusts grow sloppy. His breaths ragged. 

The implosion of his self-control is almost more euphoric than the flood of molten pleasure blooming in your core. Your release offset by the unignorable crumbling of his resolve. 

"Come for me, Bear," you pant, your breath whitening the gunmetal table with plumes of condensation. "Come for me—"

His hand presses against the smooth slope of your neck, pushing your cheek into the slick table. His thick fingers spasm as he grows frantic, desperately chasing his own end in your spasming body, ready to follow you—quick and reckless—over the edge of a precipice, filled with an adrenaline-rush spiking through the pleasure. 

Things just feel better when it's dangerous, after all. 

Bear comes with a groan he can bare smother, pulling your hips back into his as he spends himself inside of you, the punchy grunts of a well-earned victory tumbling from his lips. The sound bounces off the condensation-slick walls, renting the air in two. His heavy breaths are magnified in the sudden absence of silence that always seems to follow a loud sound. 

His misery-filled groan is muffled by the back of your crown when he tips forward, and buries his face into your hair. In his defeat, you victory. A sweet damnation that you relish as he struggles to regain footing after losing control. His brassbound resolve is still in tatters, and spilled across the back of the table he'll use tomorrow with everyone else, haunted by the images of you spread out and willing as he tries to pretend he doesn't know what it feels like to grip the end of the table and fuck you senseless in a room designed to amplify all sound. 

You grin into the metal when he husks out a mangled fuck into your sweat-slicked hair. It reeks of resignation. Of a man who stood so long on the crown of propriety slinking down to the depths of hedonism and bliss. Breaking the rules feels almost as good as fucking on top of them, and your mind races with all the ways you can break him again. 

And Bear, as usual, has a tap into that place inside that leaks bad ideas, and can only shake his head with a huff. 

He doesn't even bother saying no. 

(Caulder owes you ten bucks. It seems you can teach an old, pious seal new tricks.)

Your legs are still shaking like a newborn fawn. You feel him inside you still, and the phantom stretch of him touching places and pieces of yourself he really shouldn't makes you quiver. The ache in your thighs is the good kind, though. The lasting impression of success after obtaining exactly what you set out to do. 

Climbing a mountain. Running five miles. Fucking Bear Graves in the locker room with everyone else just a breath away. 

(Check, check, and check—)

He helps you into the truck, eyes sweeping over your shoulder to look for anyone else in the parking lot who might ask questions. Solid, reasonable ones like why do you stink like sex? and did you just fuck them in the locker room, Bear?

You could try and reassure him that it's empty. That no one cares. That it's all in his head. 

But you like the clench of his jaw, the flash of teeth when you giggle at him. Once the high of his release comes down, anger will follow. The kind that makes him loom. He'll lecture you about safety and decorum and not to sneak into his work to fuck him—

He'll wind himself up. Get himself nice and heated. He'll see it as a question to his authority. A tremor in his self-control. 

And to regain the footing he lost—

Well. 

It'll be a good night for you. 

"You're a bad influence," he mumbles into your jaw, words muffled by his heavy breath he buckles you in. 

You count each line in his forehead as a win, and try not to preen. "You love it."

[shepscapades]

Hiii I LOVEEEEE your DBC AU so much!!!!! You've given me a concerning level of brainrot =w= I just have question about the new part that just came out: why is Etho going crazy? Is it bc of the trauma? Or is it smth else?

HI thank you!!! <3 It’s been mentioned here and there (I think I talked about it in the Part 1 post), but it’s probably not a bad idea to recap every now and then for any new folks. (I then proceeded to write everything out more detail than I’ve ever talked about it before!) so hopefully this makes things a little more clear! Gbjdghkvjm

Etho, who was still trying to get used to a full range of emotions on top of his first life series, had a REALLY hard time with how Last Life ended— the adrenaline and fear of Death Games’ Survival of the Fittest and being pit against all of his friends is one thing, but something about his relationship with bdubs was so much more important to him, and he essentially blames himself for bdubs’ permanent death in the series. He vividly remembers (has recorded + logged the memories of) himself telling bdubs he wouldn’t give him a life unless he killed one of the other reds— remembers bdubs saying he’ll kill to earn the life, remembers him looking so earnest and determined, vividly remembers the moment the message rang out that Bdubs had gotten his kill, and the message that Grian had killed Bdubs shortly after.

Etho never quite forgave himself for being the self-perceived reason bdubs dies (after all, he should have just given bdubs the life if he really cared and wanted him to survive), and he takes this grief back with him as they return to Hermitcraft Season 8. As someone who’s very new to feelings of guilt and failure, you can imagine how hard he took this— reviewing the memories again and again, trying to understand why he made those decisions, realizing how selfish he is, comparing his “failure to protect bdubs” to when he was first assigned to Bdubs, when he sacrificed himself to keep Bdubs safe.

As the moon situation escalated and hermitcraft got increasingly busy, Etho couldn’t find it in himself to confront bdubs (maybe not seeing himself fit to deserve bdubs’ forgiveness, or fearing Bdubs’ disappointment or anger with him) and his fears and regrets kind of slowly ate away at him until it shut him down. It’s actually a recurring theme for Etho that, because of the damage he sustained from the creeper blast that caused his deviancy, his systems are actually kind of fragile when it comes to pushing them to their extremes. When he feels an extraordinary amount of overwhelming emotion, his thirium pump starts to work in overdrive, and thirium starts leaking from all of the places his shell is cracked— his face, his shoulder, and his arm.

So the idea is that, Etho returns to Season 8 trying to… more or less forget about what happened— except he can’t, he’s obsessed with what happened, and his emotions start to overwhelm him until thirium starts to leak and whatnot. But I think deviants are fairly used to “dismissing” warnings, as sometimes their thirium pump will skip, their temperature will rise, or other system updates may happen when they feel certain emotions, and Etho is so distracted (or. Trying to be distracted) that he doesn’t realize he’s dismissing Thirium Loss notifications until it’s too late. He begins to shut down with Last Life on his mind, and the system errors that follow are all garbled out.

This technically happens before the moon destroys the server, which means etho is offline, or broken, or what have you, when the server gets destroyed, and this is actually what truly glitches him out. When Xisuma and Doc try to reboot him at the beginning of season 9, Etho’s system is caught on a glitch: Etho had shut down thinking about last life, so his programming is trying to eliminate the threat who killed bdubs as an attempt to fix what happened (bdubs dying). Etho’s trying to eliminate grian (who isn’t a threat anymore, because this isn’t last life, last life was ages ago) but he’s not thinking straight and can’t process anything beyond the Desperation+Fear+Guilt. Since Grian’s not in the room, he goes for the next best thing: the person who might be able to tell him where Grian is: the server admin. Doc just gets in the way of Etho trying to get to Xisuma, so Etho “decommissions” Doc in an attempt to remove him from the equation.

So um. Yeah! That should be everything more or less explained… hopefully it also clears up some details you may or may not notice in the comics! Etho starts leaking thirium throughout the destruction comics, Etho goes for Xisuma first… Etho having memory flashbacks of Last Life. If anything is particularly confusing feel free to ask more questions! But it’s kinda nice to be able to write out how I’ve logic’d out all of this happening in my head hehe (i plan on posting the DBHC Etho playlist soon with a brief explanation of each song in Etho’s timeline, so hopefully that will help too!) :]

[hyomaluvr]

// HSR LEAKS

can we talk about what it’s like fucking dragon dan heng? scratch that, PLEASE talk to me about this i’m begging

cw: hsr spoilers / hsr leaks, breeding kink, size kink, minor tummy bulge mention, reader could be read as stelle/trailblazer, reader is afab

dan heng going from a calm, collected nerd to an unraveled, horny monster? CHEFS KISS

he’s so headstrong that it isn’t you he likes. he will not let this facade slip, always teasing you with the irritation he has towards march, but you grind his gears in a different way.

that’s why it’s so embarrassing when his cock is tenting very obviously and you’ve just brushed up against him, he’s losing it

it’s not like he’s surprised either, he’s noticed that the scent you’ve been putting off is just delectable— noticed it since he first met you, actually. he’s fighting himself even as he’s in this embarrassing situation not to hump against your ass and mark your neck

“get out of here. it isn’t safe.” even if you’ve shown you want this, he’s still worried because he knows once he gets you he won’t be able to stop <3

it’s crazy someone so quiet can still say all the right things to push your buttons and flirt with you

“you’re so much smaller than me, i’m afraid you’ll break in half.” “is that supposed to turn me off?” “i suppose reckless behavior is to be expected of you. i’ll make sure to warn natalia.” he’s so cold even though he’s holding his dick through his pants all for you <333 he’s dripping if you start whining

his words contradict his actions, his protests of how you need to think this through better don’t match up at all with how he’s going feral on your dripping cunt. your scent is so strong that he’s love drunk and he’s soooo loud eating you out.

if you touch his horns he moans

animalistic urge to breed you. needs to cream pie you or he swears he’ll die!!

his actions are very stream of consciousness. yanking your hair but sloppily kissing you like you’re the greatest treasure in the world and then abruptly sucking on your nipples— if he wants it, he’s going to get it

“does a classless thing like you know what it’s like to get your womb filled to the brim?”

he fucks you so hard, he doesn’t want you to know your name. he can’t help it! he warned you earlier that you were in trouble and he wasn’t going to stop until he bred your poor, drooling pussy til he was satisfied. something about this season made you irresistible and the perfect candidate to release his lust into since you were the main subject of it anyway.

the second he sees his bulge in your tummy, he’s cumming ropes in you!

don’t even get me started on how possessive he is. ordinarily if anyone saw you two he’d be stopped in his tracks in utter humiliation but right now? he’s biting you all over, sucking wherever he can to leave fang marks and hickies while staring angry daggers into any poor intruder’s eyes. they’d probably feel uncomfortable if it wasn’t for the complete terror they were in while being faced with a dragon who visibly wanted to tear them to shreds for interrupting his mating session.

he NEEDS your eye contact he has to watch how pitiful and sweet you look underneath him and it’s such a guilty pleasure

in his fantasies about you, you were usually on your knees looking up at him with your lips prodding at his cock, so even though he usually struggles with eye contact, it’s become a downright kink for you to be just as captured by him as he is by you

“you’re not looking at me when your eyes are rolling back like that, are you? perhaps i’ll have to train you better.”

can go for hours but if it’s not mating season he’ll tease/degrade you for being a whore <3

your womb filled to the brim with cum = happy dan heng ^w^

[ride-thedragon]

THE FINAL GIRLS: (A show post about potential adaptations and combined characters)

So, for those of you who do not know the final girls are a term I gave to Rhaena, Nettles, and Baela a while ago because they are the three girls who survive the Dance and seemingly live full lives.

There has been discourse and leaks as well as rumours that Nettles won't be involved this season (we knew this because she wasn't casted, the showrunner confirmed it) and her plot would be given to Rhaena.

I, for one, don't think that last part is true. The person who leaked that Rhaena would claim a dragon didn't say Sheepstealer (allegedly because the props used weren't labelled) and although I do think it is Sheepstealer the idea that she'd take Nettles role is unsure because they are just writing the next season.

Now I'm both delusional and reserving my right to freak out about that whole subplot unfolding because I adore them both and wanted Rhaena’s Vale arc to be prominent. I also will say that I understand the need to make sense of something that doesn't seem to. This isn't an attack on fans. So we are going with the former with this post.

I don't think Rhaena is taking Nettles' place, entirely at least.

I think she claims her dragon, but that could be the extent of it.

My counterarguements for certain fan plot point changes:

RHAENA.

1. Rhaenyra will get mad at Rhaena for leaving Viserys and Aegon to travel alone and will be resentful towards her, ordering killing later on.

No. The reason that works with Nettles is that she has no political stakes. She is a common girl on a dragon. Unlike Rhaena, who is a lady of the court and now a ward of Jeyne with her dragon. With all the animosity they are sowing, it's very unlikely and almost impossible for Rhaenyra to do that. That's kinslaying and breaking guestright. She'd lose the Riverlands, not just Maidenpool as Daemon is doing right now. Rhaenyra can't just call Rhaena a witch, you know. It's not that easy. Finally, to this point, I don't see why Rhaena would leave her brothers and the Vale since she just solved Jeyne Arryn's biggest problem right now. We could make the argument that she goes to help, but it doesn't make a lot of sense to leave the Vale without her huge dragon and for her to to go the Dragonstone even if she doesn't know about the Dragonseed plot.

2. She'll get the Romantic plot with Daemon.

I know this is a joke, but I need us collectively to put our thinking caps on.

3. Daemon will save her from Rhaenyra.

I love your enthusiasm and maybe on a show that focused on her at all, I'd believe it, but I don't think so. I don't think she's going to get that arc because there is no reason for it. I think Rhaena could stay in the Vale for the rest of her arc, but more than likely, if she gets Sheepstealer, he'll die in Battle. So I don't think she will. Specifically, I don't think so because they've added two other dragons that weren't flying in the book, Syrax and Moondancer. So I don't think she's very high up on the list of people who will fly with Daemon should the God's Eye play out the same way. It's a lesser point as well, but this ruins his arc in the book. Him saving Nettles was him taking the hard way out, letting her fly, betraying Rhaenyra, and killing Aemond and himself. Him doing the same to Rhaena wouldn't have that impact because she's his daughter and Valyrian. Nettles was a nobody of dubious parentage being ordered to be killed by his queen. Killing her wouldn't have cost him much.

4. Rhaena assumes the Nettles persona.

No. But this time it's because she doesn't need to. Rhaena is a Targaryen. She does not need to hide the fact that she claims a dragon. I can see the argument that she does it to fly with Daemon, but Nettles wasn't the reason Aemond didn't fight Daemon. It was the fact that he'd be up against 2 dragons. Lastly, it could be to sneak out of the Vale, but again, having a dragon negates the need to hide. She can fly away in the dead of night, and no Vale soldier would stop her because she has a huge dragon and could check on him casually. It would just be too ridiculous and reductive.

I think those are the immediate point for her. So moving on:

BAELA.

1. Baela take Nettles plot.

I think this does work in one context alone, which is for the Battle of the Gullet. Baela has both connections to Jace and Driftmark. If someone has to it would be her but I do still think a lot of the issues remain with the dact that Baela doesn't seem to have an attachment to Driftmark, nor does she seem like the type to cry after. For Jace probably, but it makes a lot more sense for her to become like Rhaenyra in the books after. She's hardened by it and puts on a brave face, but I can see it if they have too.

2. Baela flys to kill Aemond.

I don't think so, for one reason, Moondancer is really young. As young as Vermax in this case and because of that, I don't think she will. It's not a fair fight. They sent two large dragons in the book for Vhagar for a reason, so sending Moondancer seems improbable. Now she does have an emotional stake, but I do think her efforts would be better marked at Tumbleton than anywhere else or in King's Landing/ Dragonstone to fulfil her book arc.

Baela has less speculation so I will move on to:

NETTLES

Obviously, she's has the brunt of this. Her character isn't being reduced. They just haven't given her a designated actress and are giving her story points away to others allegedly. There is the argument that they are reserving a dragonrider to introduce with Daeron, that she'd claim another dragon, but it's all a lot of guesswork at this point.

If they include her, they'll have to change many aspects of her character. I can see them playing into the non Valyrian rumours as well as the witch ones to call back to now with Daemon's time with Alys, but again, this is speculation. If they do include her, and her narrative can go anywhere, So to not be entirely doomeristic, they can still include her by changing her dragon, introducing her with Daeron and keeping her plot relatively similar with a lot more magic to mirror Alys and Aemond with Daemon and her. Or even normally. And to the people saying the audiences would be confused by too many black people, just let me know when I lose you with this game of who are these characters (what side are they on)?

Round 1.

Round 2.

Round 3 (double feature)

I need you all to stop excusing racism. General audiences have been doing and will do just fine if they add another black character.

With that in mind, we shall see.

Lastly, Miscellaneous:

This is for other rumours and such that don't apply to these 3 girls but apply to Nettles most likely.

1. Addam/ Mysaria/ Alys are taking Nettles' place in Maidenpool.

This has to do with scars, chemistry and trying to make an unwritten narrative make sense.

For Mysaria's scar, she isn't the only character to have additional scars. Also, they seem to be keeping the book plot as Mistress of Whispers. I feel like they've added scars to everything, not just her. So this alone doesn't seem to be the case.

For Addam, I've not got the slightest clue but I think they are keeping his book plot as well for the most part.

And as for Alys, Aemond has to pay guys, I'm sorry, but he does. His goth girlfriend to reformed kinslayer arc might just be something to look forward to. She also seems to hate Daemon.

2. Dyana is taking Nettles' plot.

No.

3. Too many dragons.

I can see the argument that they are giving team black too many dragons and counter argument. They don't seem to care. Apparently, they can't adapt Rhaena and Baela without dragons, but they don't see how that makes them overpowered. By the end, like I've said, team black will have 2 dragons they didn't before. So, I don't see why we need to hold for realism at this point. Let them claim all the dragons.

4. They are white washing Rhaenyra.

I don't want to get into all of that, but Nettles doesn't exist to just make Rhaenyra look bad. She's her anthesis, her foil in the narrative. In a very similar way to Alicent last season, removing her removes Rhaenyra's character in the second half of the story. Whether they realise it or not, Rhaenyra's plot is dependent on Nettles.

5. Ulf or Daeron are getting her plot.

Ew and ew. That's just nasty and unfortunate. They already dragged Ulf from Dragonstone to King's Landing, I feel like that's enough. As for Daeron, I can see a world where he looks similar to Alicent, but I don't think she stepped out of her marriage once. Not that she couldn't, but she wouldn't.

All of this to say, we shall see. The season isn't over, and I'm of no authority to say how this will play out. Right now, it just seems like they are breaking up her story down different lines trying to see which is the best fit (none are). I can't and won't give an answer like my name is Ryan Condal until he confirms she isn't there in his adaptation.

[norazingrid]

Testmic analysis because people don’t get their relationship, like, at all

I’ll go over these points below

why test tube and microphone aren’t actually toxic

test tubes character arc and how it involves mic

their great potential and similarities with each other

conclusion

OKAY FIRST UP I WANT TO GET SOME THINGS CLEAR

I do NOT ship these two because they’re both “girls” and I am NOT picturing them as “what if they didn’t hate each other”

I've always considered their complex relationship and so called “hatred” towards each other, but I’ll explain more of it below

Test tube and microphone don’t actually have a “toxic” relationship

Now the word “toxic” can be a very strong word when describing a dynamic and I personally think that it is not the right one to use when describing their relationship because the both of them haven’t shown actual deep hatred towards each other. Sure, their dynamic isn’t exactly on “good terms” and test tube has made it pretty clear that she hates microphone, but has microphone actually shown any hatred back? No. She has always stayed quiet whenever test tube complains about her, which could be a sign on guilt. That means microphone knows the reason why she hurt test tube and understands why she’s upset about that. The lab and inventions were very dear to test tube, and microphone was convinced to steal from her and somehow “leak” her secret lab, but its pretty clear microphone regrets all of those things, and therefore she does not hate test tube.

And I would like to talk about how test tube would actually be able to forgive microphone at some point in the future, I’ll go over it in-

test tubes character arc and how it involves mic

Test tube’s character is very interesting to me because it has changed a lot during the seasons, but I’ll try to summarise it as quickly as possible. In s3 she has been seen to be pretty average and calmed down from the events that happened in episode 14, which is understandable since it happened a long time ago, but this started to change when cabby and test tube started to develop their rivalry. I’m not gonna dig too deep into this but I want to focus on how test tube STILL forgave cabby after learning her true intentions at the end of the season and I believe this could be a sign of how test tube stars acknowledging that she could learn not to judge everyone right away if they did something wrong, and I believe test tube could be starting to feel guilty aswell, not only for how she treated microphone but basically all bad moments she has had in past situations with other contestants. May I also remind u guys that test tube is stated to be socially awkward, so I don’t want to blame her for the way she acted with other contestants, but there’s always room for improvement and I would be happy to see test tube prove herself more, just like she did after forgiving cabby and voting for her to win iii.

their great potential and similarities with each other

Now I personally think that their arc could be one of the most interesting ones in the series if just given some more chance, because these two are actually very similar if you think about it. They both have been somewhat been turned down by their teammates, which gives them more willingness to prove them wrong. Test tube has been seen to be too “into the role” especially in episode 14, which might also be because her best friend was literally kidnapped by aliens, but when fan was saved, she was still not satisfied, which destroyed her respect she had from others. And the reason why she wasn’t satisfied is because microphone got all the credit. But microphone didn’t mean to steal her reputation, since she was against hurting anyone in the first place. The plot-twists in their arc’s are so entertaining, it makes it even more fun to study. And if we get to see these two characters making up somewhere in the future, it would complete their arc perfectly. Happy ending yay

Conclusion

Microphone doesn’t hate test tube, but rather feels guilty for what she did to her.

Test tube has now proved us that she is willing to forgive someone if knowing all point of views.

Their arc hasn’t ended yet, and much more depth could come out in the future between these two characters.

thanx for reading please correct me if there were any mistakes in my takes 😁

end of analysis✌️