#like i didn’t get to go to any of the other shows i just want to go to one!! why is that impossible!!

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[goldsainz]

# F1 GRID — OOPS, WRONG PERSON !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ you decide to pull a prank by “butt-dialing” your boyfriend.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ tiny tiniest bit of angst, barely proofread.

003. NOTE !

✯ i loveddd this request, so much fun to write! hope you all enjoy it because i don’t know if it’s quite as good as i intended. also, this is LONGGG so please let me know if you liked it 🫶

word count : 5,6k

★ CARLOS SAINZ

Carlos is genuinely surprised when he sees your name pop up on his phone, a facetime call incoming. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in answering. Whatever it is you might have to say must be important given the fact that you usually avoid making calls. Texts or face-to-face conversation being more your style.

What he doesn’t know, is you’re trying to keep your giggles to yourself. You have your back-up phone in hand, recording a TikTok trend you saw and decided to attempt with your boyfriend.

When Carlos answers, you pull yourself together and start speaking as if you were in the middle of a conversation. You wonder if the wall can see the idiocy of what you’re doing, if it’s judging you as you sit alone in your room whilst pranking your boyfriend.

“Amor?” Carlos asks, greeting you still slightly confused as to the reason for your call. You grin at his voice, your camera pointing to the ceiling so it seems like an accident.

“Honestly, I think I would tell him no,” you say to nobody in particular, making up a conversation.

“Hello? What’s going on?” He asks again, but you pay him no mind.

You continue your prank as best as you can, “I don’t know… I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of commitment,”

Carlos doesn’t respond instantly, but he gets the feeling that you’ve accidentally called him. He doesn’t hung up, no, he’s too nosy to do that. So, he keeps quiet in hopes that you continue whatever conversation you’re having.

“Do you think he would be mad?” You ask to your wall, “He’s really sweet, but that would anger anyone.”

What? He asks in his mind, trying to fill in the blanks to your conversation. Are you talking about him?

“He asked me the other day if I liked silver or gold better, isn’t that a sign?”

Oh, you so are talking about him.

When the realisation hits, he’s kind of sad. He didn’t ask it with the intentions you are insinuating, but you would really say no if he asked you to marry him? He can’t help but have his feelings hurt.

“I just don’t want to rush things.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is deafening. You would think he hung up if you weren’t so intently watching the screen on your phone. You feel slightly bad about the kind of conversation you’re having. A fake conversation, but still, you feel bad.

Deciding he’s had enough, Carlos hungs up. He won’t listen in on your conversation any longer, it’s doing him no good. He’s left with a bitter taste in his mouth, a weight crushing onto his chest as he ponder over your words. He didn’t know you felt that way, and truthfully, he could’ve gone on for longer without knowing.

Immediately, you call him back. He’s tempted to ignore the call but twice can’t be a coincidence.

“What?” He asks quickly after answering, when he sees your face his harsh frown softens but his tone doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say, dragging the y, “It was a prank, mi vida.”

He freezes for a second and then lets out a sigh of relief, “It was?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, showing him your second phone, “Say hello to TikTok.”

“You scared me,” he says with a shake of his head, “I thought you were being serious.”

“Never,” you firmly respond, “Can’t wait to be Mrs. Sainz,”

He smiles at the sudden shyness of your voice, “Well, that’s a relief then,”

You laugh at his words then suddenly stop, “Wait, Carlos, what do you mean?”

He looks at you as best as he can through a camera lens, then laughs and blows you a kiss.

“Carlos! What do you mean?” You ask more desperately, searching for answers but he just laughs and says his goodbyes.

You are left with your mouth agape when he hangs up. The video is certainly funny, and you can’t wait to edit out the more intimate ending and post it. But you’re left with a nervous yet exciting feeling at the pit of your stomach.

Perhaps the prankster ended up being the one pranked. Though you hope it’s not a prank.

★ CHARLES LECLERC

You await Charles’ response to your facetime call, patiently sitting down on your bed and your other phone in hand, ready to record. 

When your incoming call appears on Charles’s screen, he instantly answers. He loves to hear from you, especially when he’s away from you and misses you deeply. 

“Hello, mon chou,” he says, smiling at the camera and then slightly frowning when he notices that your camera is completely black.

“Okay, so I’ll see you at seven, right?” You ask your bear plushie, smiling at the ridiculousness of the prank.

At your words Charles’ mood dips, trying to understand what you;re saying or better yet, who you're speaking to.

“I’m so excited to see you,” Maybe it's cruel to play such games when you're thousands of kilometres apart. 

You know how much Charles misses you, how gruelling being so far away from home is to him. It is to you as well, being separated from your boyfriend tears your heart apart each time, but you decide that maybe spicing things up a little could be just what you need.

"Wait, who are you talking to? Is someone else there?” He asks, fidgeting with his hair and straightening up from where he was sitting. 

You pretend to ignore his voice and continue with the prank, “Yeah, he’s in Canada right now.”

Your boyfriend is now agitated at your words, though he prides himself for his calmness in tense situations he's not sure how to act right now. Should he hang up? Shout so that you perhaps hear him? Or stick around for the call and understand who you're talking to?

“No no, don't even worry about him,” you have to stifle your giggles, looking at the plushy in front of you who has served as your faithful company while Charles is away.

He leans in closer to the camera, tilting his head slightly, trying to understand what’s going on. “Amour, who’s there with you? Is someone else there?” he asks, a little louder this time, but still in that soft, slightly panicked tone.

It takes everything in you not to break character, but you want to see how far you can go. And hey, if you can pull this off maybe an acting career is not so far away. 

“Honestly, it gets so boring around here but you make it better.”

Charles’ lips part as if he’s about to say something, but he hesitates. You can see him wrestling with his emotions. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the confusion and a bit of hurt are written all over his face. He glances away from the screen, clearly feeling awkward. “I mean... if you’re busy, I can call you later?” His voice is soft, polite as always, but there’s a hint of insecurity creeping in.

Finally, you can’t keep up the act anymore, and burst into laughter.

His eyes widen in realisation, and his face immediately softens with relief. “Wait, is this a joke?!” His hand goes to his chest, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Mon dieu, I thought you were serious for a second! I was so confused.” He laughs now, more freely, shaking his head.

You grab your phone, fixing the angle so he can finally see you and just how alone you are in your room. “Yeah, it was just a prank. You should’ve seen your face!”

The giggles you're letting out make Charles smile, finding it endearing how such a simple thing entertained you. 

He groans playfully, clearly relieved but also slightly embarrassed. “You really got me... I didn’t know what to think! I was about to ask if I needed to fly out and speak with you!” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair again, his smile back and wider than ever. “But honestly, don’t do that again, chérie. I was about to lose my mind!”

You laugh, wiping a tear from your eye. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist! You were so confused, it was hilarious!”

He shakes his head with a grin, still amused, but now there’s a more serious note in his eyes. He leans a little closer to the camera, his voice softening. “I’m glad it was a joke, but you had me really worried for a second there. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if it was real...” He trails off, his expression turning thoughtful, like he’s truly imagining what it would feel like if you were talking to someone else.

You smile, feeling a bit guilty for messing with him. “I would never do that to you, Charles. It was just a prank.”

He breathes out a little sigh, then flashes you a tender smile that could melt anyone’s heart. “I know, I know. I trust you... but still, you’re so important to me.” His voice drops to a softer tone, his vulnerability shining through. “You don’t know how much I care about you. When I thought you might be talking to someone else... I don’t think I could’ve handled it.”

His sincerity catches you off guard, and your heart swells. Before you can say anything, he smiles again, a little sheepish now. “But anyway, good prank. I’ll give you that.” He points a playful finger at the screen. “Just remember, payback’s coming!” His grin is wide, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, pretending to be unbothered. “Oh really? What are you going to do?”

Charles smirks, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll see. You’ll never know when it’s coming, but when it does, you’re going to regret pranking me!” He winks, but it’s clear he’s more than happy to let this prank slide for now.

Then, his voice softens again, and he gives you a look that’s pure affection. “But seriously... don’t scare me like that again. I like knowing I’m the only one you’re FaceTiming.” He smiles, his dimples showing, his face a mix of relief and playful charm.

You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, okay! I promise, no more pranks like that.”

“Good,” he says with a final grin, looking like he’s truly at ease again. Then, he blows you a quick kiss through the screen. “Now, tell me what you were actually doing before you called me. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

★ LANDO NORRIS

It’s late afternoon, and you’re feeling mischievous. You decide to pull a prank you saw earlier on TikTok on Lando. You know he will be caught off guard, and that’s exactly what you’re going for.

You set your phone on the couch, deliberately calling Lando without actually answering the FaceTime. Then, in a casual voice, you start the prank, pretending to have a conversation with someone else.

“Yeah, it was so fun hanging out last night. You’re hilarious!” you say, just loud enough for Lando to hear through the FaceTime call. “I can’t believe we stayed up talking for so long!”

On the other end of the line, Lando picks up immediately. Your contact name makes him smile, wondering what you’re about tell him. But when the call goes through, he’s confused, staring at your screen which faces the ceiling. “Wait… babe? Hello?” he says, glancing around as if trying to figure out what’s happening. He leans in, his brows furrowing when he hears you talking, but not to him.

“Yeah, it was so fun hanging out last night. You’re hilarious!” you say, just loud enough for Lando to hear through the FaceTime call. “I can’t believe we stayed up talking for so long!”

His eyes go wide as he looks closer at the phone, confusion spreading across his face. He shifts in his chair, trying to process what he’s hearing. “What? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” he asks, his voice growing more anxious.

You continue the conversation, making it sound even more flirty. “Yeah, I didn’t expect to have that much fun either. You’re really something else.”

Lando's heart rate definitely spikes. He leans forward, the panic starting to creep into his voice. “Wait, wait, who’s there? Who’s she talking to?” He mutters to himself, wondering why the hell you can't hear his panicked voice but what he's more worried about is who you're talking to. 

“I’ll text you later, okay? Maybe we can hang out again soon?” you say, keeping your tone light and playful. “Yeah, it was really great seeing you. I’ll talk to you later!”

By now, Lando’s freaking out. He’s still staring at the phone screen, but you can see the uncertainty and jealousy building. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a nervous laugh. “Okay, this can’t be real. Am I being punked or something? Who the hell are you talking to?” He leans in closer, almost yelling now. “Babe! Hello! Can you hear me?!”

You pretend not to hear him and keep talking to the imaginary guy. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow. Can’t wait.”

He finally breaks, face twisting into disbelief, and he throws his hands in the air. “Are you serious right now? Who the hell is this guy?!” His voice cracks, and he’s clearly spiralling at this point. “Babe! BABE! Who are you talking to?! Are you with someone else?!” He’s practically on the edge of his seat, completely panicking.

You can’t hold back anymore and burst out laughing, picking up the phone.

Lando’s eyes are wild as he sees you finally holding the phone properly. “Wait… what? What’s going on? Who are you—” He stops mid-sentence as he realises you’re laughing, and it slowly dawns on him. “Oh my god.” He slumps back in his chair, groaning dramatically. “Noooo, don’t tell me this was a prank!”

Still laughing, you nod. “Yep! You got butt-dialed, babe.”

His face is still frozen in disbelief. “Are you joking right now?” he asks, his voice going up an octave. His hand is over his chest like he’s trying to calm his racing heart. “You seriously just made me think you were talking to another guy?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, barely holding back more laughter.

He leans closer to the screen, his eyes wide. “I’m literally sweating! My heart was in my throat, and you were over here just… casually chatting with some ‘guy.’” His voice cracks a little as he says “guy,” and his dramatic reaction makes you laugh harder.

“Oh, come on, it was just a little prank,” you tease.

Lando shakes his head, looking somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Little prank? I was literally about to start a fight with the air! I’ve never been so confused in my life!” He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping back in his chair. “I’m in shambles right now. I’ve been emotionally attacked.”

You try to stop giggling, but his over-the-top reaction just keeps it going. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack!”

“Too late,” he says with mock seriousness. “The damage is done. I might need to lie down after this.” He pauses, staring at you with narrowed eyes, a small smirk forming on his lips. “You owe me big time.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling. “Oh, really? And what exactly do I owe you?”

Lando crosses his arms, feigning deep thought. “Well, first off, you owe me a massive apology. And then maybe…” His eyes light up as the thought hits him. “You can take me out for a nice dinner, pay for dessert, and— oh! I’m thinking a full day of pampering.”

You laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Pampering? What do you think this is, a spa?”

He grins, leaning back in his chair and looking more relaxed now. “Hey, I deserve it after what you just put me through. I was about to show up at your place ready to fight some random guy I didn’t even know existed!”

“Alright, alright,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes again. “I’ll pamper you. But just this once!”

Lando’s grin grows wider. “Deal. But I’m definitely getting you back for this, by the way. Just so you know.”

You can’t help but laugh at his scheming. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

He tilts his head, his eyes softening slightly. “But seriously, don’t scare me like that again, okay? My poor heart can’t take it.” His voice drops into a teasing whine, but there’s a touch of genuine relief there too.

You smile, feeling a little guilty now. “I promise, no more butt-dial pranks.”

Lando sighs in mock relief, then grins. “Good. Now that we’ve got that settled, I’m expecting that pampering session to start soon. I’m thinking back rubs and snacks. Lots of snacks.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” he says cheekily, winking at you.

★ LEWIS HAMILTON

It’s late in the evening, you’re lounging on the couch, scrolling through social media when a mischievous idea pops into your head: prank Lewis. It’s been a long week for him, and you know he’s probably relaxing after a day full of meetings and training. That makes it the perfect time to catch him off guard.

Picking up your phone, you set it on the couch beside you, face down, so it looks like a genuine mistake. Then, with one quick swipe, you FaceTime him. The phone rings a few times before Lewis picks up. You can see from the tiny preview screen that he’s in the hotel, leaning back in his chair, probably unwinding after the busy day he's had.

At first, he looks confused when he sees the camera pointing at your ceiling. “Babe?” he calls out, his voice soft and curious. “Did you call me?”

You ignore his soft voice, pretending you don’t realise you’ve called him. Instead, you start the staged conversation with your "friend” who really just is an unbothered Roscoe, who's resting by your feet and not paying much attention to anything.

“I don’t know, I just feel like things with Lewis aren’t working anymore,” you say with a sigh, making your voice sound hesitant, like you’re deep in thought.

On the other end, you can hear Lewis pause, his confusion evident as he watches the ceiling of your living room on the screen. “Wait, what? Did I just hear that right?” he mumbles, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

You continue, not responding to him, staying in character, “It’s just been really hard lately. Like, I know he cares about me, but it feels like we’re growing apart, you know?” You make your voice sound vulnerable, as if you’re spilling your deepest thoughts to this imaginary friend.

Lewis sits up straighter, his face showing a mix of confusion and worry now. He leans toward the screen, trying to get your attention. “Babe? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” His voice is still calm, but there’s a note of urgency creeping in.

You keep the fake conversation going, pushing it a little further. “I mean, I love him, but sometimes love isn’t enough. We’re just in different places, and I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen and he rubs a hand over his face, his composure starting to slip as the weight of your words sinks in. “Wait, hold on, what are you talking about? You don’t think we’re gonna make it? Babe, what’s happening?” His voice is louder now, more strained, and you can see the confusion and hurt beginning to cloud his expression.

You almost put a stop to your prank right there, but you decide to push through. So, you ignore him, still talking to your imaginary friend, “I’ve been thinking about ending things for a while, but it’s just so hard. He’s so sweet, and I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine.”

Lewis blinks, and you can see him processing your words, his heart clearly sinking. His mouth opens slightly, but he’s struggling to find the right thing to say. “No, no, this can’t be real,” he whispers to himself, shaking his head. 

You glance at the screen briefly, seeing the growing panic in his eyes, but you push the prank a bit further. “Yeah, I’m going to talk to him soon. I just hope he understands.” You add a small, fake sigh. “I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t think we’re right for each other anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his calm exterior cracking even more. “Babe, talk to me. What’s going on? Is this how you really feel?” He’s practically pleading now, his voice full of emotion. You can see the vulnerability in his eyes as he tries to make sense of everything.

Finally, unable to hold it together any longer, you burst out laughing and grab the phone. “Oh my god, Lewis, it’s a prank!”

For a moment, Lewis just stares at you, blinking in complete disbelief. Then, slowly, realisation dawns, and he lets out a long, exasperated sigh, slumping back in his chair. “No way… are you serious? You were just messing with me?”

You nod, still laughing. “Yeah, there’s no friend. I wasn’t talking about breaking up with you. I’m so sorry, my love!”

He rubs his face with both hands, trying to process everything. “Wow… okay, you really got me.” He exhales sharply, clearly relieved but still a bit shaken. “I thought I was about to lose you here. My heart was racing.”

“I’m sorry!” you say, giggling. “I didn’t mean to freak you out that much, I swear.”

He chuckles softly, though you can see the relief still lingering on his face. “You really had me going, babe. I didn’t know what to think.” He pauses, then looks at you with a mix of amusement and reproach. “I was ready to drop everything and come find you.”

You grin, feeling a little bad now that you can see how worried he really was. “I didn’t mean to push it that far! It was just supposed to be a little prank.”

Lewis shakes his head with a smile, the tension starting to fade. “Alright, alright. It’s all good. You got me. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook so easily.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my punishment?”

He leans back, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “I’m not sure yet, but I’m definitely getting you back for this. And trust me, when I do, you’ll never see it coming.” His eyes glint with mischief, though there’s still that hint of vulnerability lingering in his expression.

You laugh, still feeling a bit guilty for putting him through that emotional rollercoaster. “Fair enough, I’ll be ready for whatever you’ve got planned.”

He chuckles, his smile softening. “Just… no more pranks like that, alright? You really freaked me out.” His voice lowers, and you can tell he means it.

You nod, giving him an apologetic smile. “I promise, no more fake breakups.”

Lewis grins, though his eyes are still warm with lingering emotion. “Good. Because if we’re going to have a serious conversation, I’d rather it be in person.” He winks, his usual calm confidence starting to return.

“Deal,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, relieved that he’s taking it so well.

He sighs dramatically, then chuckles. “You’re lucky I love you, babe. Because if anyone else tried that on me…” He trails off with a smirk, but you know he means it.

“I know, I know. You’re the best,” you tease, still smiling.

“Yeah, don’t forget it,” he says, his voice light, but you can tell he’s glad the whole thing was just a joke.

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN

Max’s phone buzzes with a FaceTime call, and he glances at the screen, seeing your name pop up. It’s unusual for you to call directly; you typically prefer texting or face-to-face conversations. So, he’s immediately curious about what might be urgent enough to warrant a call.

You place your phone face down on the couch and dial Max’s number. The phone rings a few times before he picks up, his face appearing on the screen. He’s clearly winding down after a long day, his hair slightly tousled and a relaxed look on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks casually. You can see he’s expecting a normal call.

Instead of responding, you start chatting as if you’re talking to someone else. “Yeah, it was great seeing you tonight. I didn’t expect to have such a good time.” You add a flirty tone to your voice, trying to sound casual.

At first, Max stays silent, his expression shifting from relaxed to puzzled. After a moment, his eyes narrow, and he leans closer to the screen. “Who are you talking to?” His voice is direct, with a calm demeanour that contrasts the intensity in his eyes.

You continue with the prank, keeping up the pretence. “I know, right? It’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to hang out like this.” You give a small, playful laugh.

Max’s face tightens slightly, and he sits up straight, clearly not pleased. “Seriously, who is that? Who are you talking to?” His tone is calm but authoritative.

“I’m glad we could hang out,” you say softly, using the same voice you use when you want to sweeten Max. It’s a tone reserved only for him, and that only makes him more frustrated.

He watches you intently, his patience wearing thin. “I’m not playing games. Are you going to tell me who this is or not?” 

You can see his frustration building as he waits for a response. When you don’t immediately answer, he makes a decisive move. “You know what? I’m ending this call.” He starts to hang up, but then pauses, his eyes narrowing even more. “Actually, I’m coming over. I want to see who you’re talking to.”

Before you can react, he’s already starting to disconnect. Realising the prank might be escalating, you quickly grab the phone and try to calm him down. “Wait, Max, it’s a joke! I was just messing with you!”

Max freezes mid-disconnect, his eyes widening with a mix of relief and disbelief. He straightens up, a sarcastic grin spreading across his face. “Oh, a joke? Perfect timing. I was just about to come over and give your ‘mystery guy’ a piece of my mind. You know, because clearly, he needed a crash course on what it means to mess with my girlfriend.”

You burst out laughing, trying to explain yourself. “I’m really sorry, Max. I didn’t think it would get this intense.”

He rolls his eyes dramatically, still grinning. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘I’m just kidding’ like a full-blown emotional crisis. I’m sure your ‘mystery guy’ would’ve been thrilled to meet the real Max Verstappen, all dressed up for a confrontation.”

You giggle, feeling a bit sheepish. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I just thought it would be a harmless prank.”

Max raises an eyebrow, his sarcasm in full swing. “Oh, of course, harmless. I mean, who needs peace of mind when you’ve got surprise pranks, right?”

You laugh, trying to diffuse the situation. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll make sure to keep my pranks a bit less intense next time.”

He smirks, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Unless you want me to come over and give you a live demonstration of what happens when you prank a racing driver. Spoiler alert: It involves a lot of very fast revenge.”

“Noted,” you say with a grin. “I promise, no more surprise drama.”

Max chuckles, his sarcasm giving way to genuine amusement. “Good. Because I was about to start practising my ‘disappointed boyfriend’ speech. And trust me, it’s a work of art.”

You laugh again, feeling relieved that he’s taking it well. “I’ll avoid any more pranks that might warrant a speech.”

“Perfect. Now, let’s talk about something less dramatic— like how you’re going to make it up to me. And I don’t mean another prank.”

You laugh, ready to move on from the prank. “I’ve got just the thing. No more surprises, I promise.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Good. And remember, I’m always keeping an eye out for any more ‘mysterious’ calls.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say with a laugh. 

★ OSCAR PIASTRI

You’re feeling cheeky and decide to pull a prank on your boyfriend by pretending to butt dial him. You carefully set up your phone, ensuring it calls Oscar automatically. You place the phone on a table and begin your act, speaking loudly enough for him to hear clearly through the call. 

You make sure to put on a show, talking loudly enough that Oscar will definitely hear it. As soon as he picks up, you begin your “conversation.”

“Oh hey! So glad you called,” you start, making your voice bright and cheerful as if you’ve been waiting for this call. “I just have to tell you, last night was absolutely amazing!”

Oscar, on the other end of the call, answers with his usual calm demeanour. He sees your name on the screen and answers with a mix of curiosity and amusement. His face remains composed, but you can sense him starting to analyse the situation. He listens intently, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“I’m so glad we got to hang out. It’s not every day you meet someone who can keep me laughing like that,” you say, your tone warm and engaging. You emphasise the casual nature of the conversation, hoping to make your boyfriend think it’s a genuine chat.

Oscar’s gaze is fixed on the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listens. He remains eerily quiet, giving you the sense that he’s deep in thought, piecing together the details of your conversation. His face is a mask of calm curiosity, but there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“Absolutely, we need to do it again soon. How about dinner tomorrow? I’ll text you the details,” you continue, maintaining the pretence. You keep your tone light and breezy, almost as if the conversation is too engaging for you to notice his reaction.

Oscar’s smirk starts to form, his mind piecing together the clues. He leans back slightly in his chair, his composure unshaken. He’s clearly caught on to the prank, but he maintains his cool, waiting for the right moment to reveal his awareness.

“I hope you’re done with your other conversation,” he finally says, his voice smooth and collected. “We can talk later when you’re free from your… other commitments.” His calm tone and subtle smirk indicate he’s caught on, but he’s letting you have your fun for now.

You immediatly start laughing, realising that Oscar has seen right through your prank. “I didn’t expect you to catch on so quickly!”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying the reveal. “I had a feeling something was off, your conversation was a bit too perfect.” He gives you a playful wink. “Nice try, though. I have to admit, you had me intrigued for a moment there.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say, still grinning. “I was hoping to give you a little challenge.”

He leans back in his chair, his smile broadening. “Challenge accepted. You managed to get a rise out of me, which is no easy feat. But now that I’m in on the joke, I’m planning my own comeback.” His tone is light-hearted but filled with a hint of mischief.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you say, still grinning. “I was hoping to give you a little challenge.”

His smirk widens into a charming grin. “Challenge accepted,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “But since you managed to prank me, I think it’s only fair that I get to return the favour.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by his confident tone. “Oh, really? And what do you have in mind for your comeback?”

Oscar leans in a bit closer, his gaze softening. “Let’s just say that next time we talk, I might have a surprise of my own for you. Something that’ll make your heart race in a way that’s far more thrilling than any prank.” He gives you a knowing look, his voice lowering to a teasing whisper. “I’m all about keeping things exciting.”

Your heart flutters at the flirtatious undertone in his voice. “Is that so? I’ll have to be extra vigilant then. I wouldn’t want you to catch me off guard again.”

His eyes sparkle with affection. “Oh, don’t worry. I love a good challenge, especially when it means I get to see that beautiful smile of yours when you’re surprised.” 

You blush a little at his words, “I might have to prank you every day if I get you this sweet after.”

“I’m alway sweet,” he teases, laughing at your flusteredness.

“Yeah, you are.”

“Anyway, are you getting home later today?” You ask, hoping to see your boyfriend after weeks of him being away.

“Yes, I’m aching to see you,” he confesses, smiling at you.

“Me too.” 

“See you then, my little prankster,” Oscar says with a laugh.

You roll your eyes at the nickname but you’re endeared by it all the same. “See you soon.”

[always-just-red]

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist |

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.   

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You: Part 2

SUMMARY: After deciding you need time away, you ask Tyler for some space to process everything. During your absence, Tyler finds himself constantly thinking about you, realizing how much he misses your presence and what you mean to him. Struggling with how to approach the situation, Tyler begins sending you small, thoughtful gifts, hoping to keep some connection alive while respecting your need for time. Each gift carries a subtle message, his way of reminding you of his feelings without overstepping. Finally, unable to stay away any longer, Tyler shows up at your door, ready to talk and confront the growing emotions between you both.

WARNINGS: More Angst. (with a little fluff)

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1

NOTE: There will be a PART 3! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Part 2 got away from me so I decided to break it up as to not have one crazy long fic.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @callsign-diva I @starshinegrl I @willowpains I @beltzboys2015-blog

The team gathered around the RV, tension simmering beneath the surface. Things hadn't been the same since Kate joined, and you could feel the shift in every quiet conversation, every glance that Tyler cast in her direction. After the last storm chase, when Tyler sat next to you and apologized for breaking your heart, you knew it was time to make a decision. You couldn’t stay—not with the constant reminders of everything you wished for but couldn’t have.

After a sleepless night, you made your decision. You requested a leave of absence from the team—just two weeks to get your mind straight, to figure out if you could stay and watch Tyler build a life with someone else. When you approached Tyler, he looked at you with a mix of regret and reluctance, clearly not wanting you to go but knowing he had no right to stop you.

“I need time,” you said softly, your voice steady but your heart anything but. “I just…I need to clear my head, and figure out what’s next for me.”

Tyler's eyes searched yours, his jaw tightening as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. “If that’s what you need,” he said quietly, “I won’t stop you. But…I’m gonna miss you around here.”

You nodded, knowing he meant it, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough, not when he had already chosen someone else. “I’ll be back in two weeks,” you told him, and without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, feeling the weight of his gaze on your back.

Tyler stepped into the familiar café, the warm smell of espresso and freshly baked pastries hitting him as he waited in line. He pulled out his phone, scrolling absently through messages and notifications, his mind elsewhere. You’d been gone for three days now—three long, silent days. The truck was quieter without your voice, without your little side comments or the music you always played to keep everyone’s spirits up during long chases.

Dexter had grabbed his coffee the first morning you were gone. He hadn’t even noticed at first—it wasn’t quite right, but he’d brushed it off. Just a small thing, nothing major. Today, though, as he stood in line, he realized he didn’t even know what he wanted. You always got his order just right without him even having to ask.

The barista behind the counter smiled at him, her pen poised over the notepad. “What can I get for you?”

Tyler opened his mouth, then paused. Was it a double shot of espresso or a single? Did he like anything else added to it? God, how had he never paid attention to this before?

“Uh…” he hesitated, trying to piece it together. “Just a regular coffee, I guess. With…sugar?”

The barista gave him a polite nod, but he could tell she was already moving on, another nameless face in the line of customers. He sighed as he handed her his card, feeling oddly unsettled by the whole interaction. Black coffee wasn’t right—he knew that much. He’d drink it, but it wouldn’t be what he actually wanted. Just another thing that wasn’t right anymore.

As he took the cup and left the café, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling. It wasn’t the coffee that was bothering him. It was the fact that you weren’t there to get it right for him, to know the little things he hadn’t even realized mattered. It hit him, harder than he expected. He’d taken you for granted—your presence, your attention to detail, the way you just knew him in ways no one else ever did. And now, with you gone, he felt the emptiness in every small part of his day.

Tyler climbed back into his truck, setting the coffee in the cup holder without touching it. He sat there for a moment, staring at it, the silence around him feeling heavier than it ever had before. You weren’t there, and for the first time, he was starting to realize how much it bothered him.

The truck rumbled down the highway, the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. Boone was riding shotgun, his hand casually scrolling through his phone as he played DJ for the drive. Tyler had barely noticed at first, too focused on the darkening sky ahead, but as the third song in a row played, something nagged at him.

It wasn’t that Boone had bad taste in music—he didn’t. It was just that none of these songs hit quite right. The rhythm was off, the mood wasn’t there, and Tyler felt an uncomfortable itch in the back of his mind, like something was missing.

The music was background noise, sure, but when you were the one picking the playlist, it had never felt like just noise. Somehow, you always knew exactly what to play. Whether it was an old classic rock song he loved or something new that perfectly matched the mood, every song you chose seemed to be one of his favorites. It was uncanny, really, how well you knew him.

Boone scrolled through another song, switching it halfway through. Tyler’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the silence between songs suddenly feeling heavier.

“Everything good, man?” Boone asked, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Tyler muttered, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. He didn’t say anything, but inside, his thoughts were racing. How had he never noticed before? All those times you were riding beside him, picking the perfect song, knowing his favorite tracks better than anyone else… It was like you could read his mind. Or maybe it was something else—something deeper.

Boone finally settled on another song, some alt-rock tune Tyler didn’t recognize, and the sound filled the cab again. But it didn’t feel right. None of it did. The whole drive felt off without you there beside him, smiling softly as you hummed along to the music, your eyes flicking over to him when a particularly good song came on.

Tyler’s chest tightened. You’d always been there, quietly in tune with him, noticing things no one else did. It was in the way you picked the songs, the way you knew when he needed silence, or when to play something loud to get his energy up before a storm. It was in the little things, all the details he hadn’t appreciated before.

How had he been so blind?

He thought about you now, at home, away from the team, from him. He thought about all those moments—so many little things that added up to something big, something he hadn’t let himself see. The music was just one piece of it, but now that he was noticing, he couldn’t stop. The playlist had always been yours, just like so many other parts of his life.

Boone’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You good with this song?”

Tyler blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah,” he said, though the truth was, no, he wasn’t. Not at all.

He missed you. And for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure what to do.

Tyler's hand hovered over his phone, thumb tracing the edge of the screen as the truck rumbled beneath him. They were pulling off to the side of the road, another quick pit stop before the storm hit. The others were already filing out of the truck, stretching and talking about what was ahead as they made their way into the gas station for drinks and snacks. But Tyler’s mind wasn’t on the storm, or the chase, or even the team. It was on you.

He should call. He needed to call. He could feel the weight of your absence settling deeper with every passing mile, every quiet moment that used to be filled by your voice or your laugh. The last few days had been hell without you. Coffee tasted wrong, the music sounded off, and for the life of him, he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest.

His finger hovered over your name in his contacts, but then it hit him, hard, like a punch straight to the gut: those words you said to him before you left. “I just want to go back to before. Before I met you. Before I let myself believe that there was a chance.”

He closed his eyes, the memory slamming into him with full force. The look on your face, the tremble in your voice—God, how had he let it get to that point? How had he been so blind, so caught up in everything else that he never noticed the way you felt, the way you saw him? All those moments, all those signs, and he missed every single one of them.

The phone slipped from his hand and landed on the seat beside him with a dull thud. His chest tightened, shame twisting deep in his gut. You’d believed there was a chance. And he’d taken that hope and crushed it. He’d hurt you, someone who’d always been there for him, always knew what he needed before he even asked. You’d been everything.And all he did was break you. And he hadn’t been able to see it until now.

Tyler’s jaw clenched as he stared down at his phone. He could call you, tell you he missed you. He could apologize, say all the things he should have said before. But would it even matter? You were done with him. He could still hear it in your voice when you walked away—how tired you sounded. How heartbroken. He’d made you feel like you weren’t enough, and the truth was, you were more than enough. You’d always been more than enough.

He was the one who didn’t deserve you. He was the one who wasn’t enough for you.

His hand curled into a fist, the phone still lying untouched beside him. He’d been blind, selfish, wrapped up in his own world while you quietly slipped through his fingers. The thought of you never answering his call, of you moving on without him, stung like hell. But why would you answer? After everything he’d done—or failed to do—why would you want anything to do with him?

He let out a breath, heavy and shaky, feeling the full weight of his regret pressing down on him. He didn’t deserve you. Not after what he’d done. Not after how blind he’d been to how much you’d cared.

Later that night, Tyler sat on the edge of his bed, the quiet of his room pressing in on him. The team had settled in at the small motel, the storm still hours away from reaching them. Normally, nights like these were his favorite—calm before the chaos, time to relax before the adrenaline kicked in. But tonight, there was no calm. Just the heavy weight of everything he’d been trying to ignore since you left.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tugging open his duffel bag to pull out a pair of sweatpants. But as he reached for them, his hand brushed against something solid at the bottom of the bag. Frowning, he pushed aside his clothes until his fingers closed around a book—a book he hadn’t touched in weeks.

He stared down at the cover, his heart giving a sharp twist. The Self-Help Guide to Letting Go of the Past. He had forgotten all about it, shoved in the bottom of his bag after he’d lent it to you. You’d asked for it just last week, something about being curious, but at the time, it hadn’t made much sense to him. You’d never been into these kinds of books before.

Tyler’s thumb traced the worn edges of the cover as the memory of that conversation came rushing back. You’d caught him in the middle of a busy day, the two of you sitting in the RV while the rest of the team was setting up for the next chase. You’d looked almost nervous when you asked if you could borrow it, your voice light, like you were trying to keep things casual. He hadn’t thought much of it then, just handed it over without a second thought, teasing you a little about branching out into self-help.

But now, it hit him all at once. You hadn’t wanted the book. You hadn’t been interested in the advice it had to offer. You’d been looking for something—anything—to connect with him, to spark a conversation, to get his attention. It was just another one of those small things you did that he never took the time to understand.

His chest tightened painfully as he stared at the book, the realization settling over him like a weight he couldn’t shake. You’d been trying to reach out, to bridge the gap between you two, even when he was too blind to notice. And now you were gone. You’d given up, walked away, and he couldn’t blame you. How could he, when he’d been so clueless?

His breath came out in a heavy exhale as he tossed the book onto the bed, running a hand down his face. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have missed all these little moments that showed just how much you cared? The music, the coffee, the book—none of it had seemed like much at the time. But now, with you gone, they all felt like pieces of a puzzle that he hadn’t bothered to put together until it was too late.

He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze fixed on the book lying open beside him. He thought about calling you again, his phone sitting within reach on the nightstand, but the same thoughts stopped him cold. You wouldn’t answer. Why would you? You were done trying to make things work with him. And after everything, he couldn’t blame you for that either.

Tyler’s hand curled into a fist, his frustration building. He wanted to fix this, wanted to make things right, but how could he, when he’d already let you down so badly? He’d missed his chance, and the thought of that—of losing you for good—made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t felt before.

The next morning, Tyler sat on the tailgate of his truck, absently sipping his coffee as the team went about their business. They were prepping for the day’s chase, double-checking equipment and reviewing the radar. Normally, he’d be in the thick of it, but his mind kept drifting, pulled in a direction he wasn’t ready to face.

Lily wandered over, her brow furrowed slightly as she eyed him. "You okay, Ty? You seem…distracted."

He shrugged, taking another sip of his coffee—too sweet, as usual. "Just got a lot on my mind."

Lily gave him a look that said she wasn’t buying it. She leaned against the truck beside him, crossing her arms. "You know, it’s kind of weird. Things have been off since she left. I mean, I knew she did a lot for the team, but…it’s more than that."

Tyler’s grip tightened around the cup, his jaw clenching. He didn’t need the reminder. Every day since you’d been gone, things felt off. The coffee wasn’t right, the music wasn’t right, hell, he wasn’t right. But he couldn’t put it into words—not without admitting what he’d been too stubborn to face.

Lily didn’t stop there. "She always knew what you liked, what you needed—even when you didn’t say it. You might not have noticed, but the rest of us did." She paused, giving him a sidelong glance. "It’s kind of strange not having her around. Things just don’t…flow like they used to."

Tyler said nothing, his mind racing as he took in her words. He hadn’t noticed how much you’d paid attention to him, all the little details you got right. But now that you were gone, it was painfully obvious. The realization gnawed at him, twisting the knot in his stomach even tighter.

Before he could respond, Boone approached, his usual easygoing smile replaced with a more serious expression. "Tyler, can I ask you something?"

Tyler nodded, relieved for the distraction—until Boone’s next words hit him like a punch.

"What’s the deal with you and Kate?"

Tyler blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

Boone raised an eyebrow. "Come on, man. It’s obvious something’s up. The way she’s been hanging around you, and now that…" He trailed off, his gaze flicking to the side. "Look, everyone’s been wondering."

Tyler let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation—but the question hung in the air like an anchor, forcing him to confront what he’d been avoiding. "Kate and I… it’s just business. We work well together, but that’s it. She’s brilliant and could really be changing the game with this theory. I care about her, sure, but she’s not…"

He stopped, his words catching in his throat. But what? He didn’t know how to finish that sentence because the truth was sitting right there in front of him, and it was something he hadn’t wanted to face.

Boone’s gaze softened. "She’s not what, Ty? What’s going on?"

Tyler swallowed hard, the words heavy in his chest. "Kate’s not her," he finally admitted, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want to say it out loud. "The one I pushed away."

Boone nodded, his expression knowing. "You mean… her."

Tyler didn’t need to say your name. It was clear who they were talking about. He nodded, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions. "I messed up, Boone. She was always there, always…paying attention to everything, and I was too blind to see it. Now she’s gone, and I don’t think she wants anything to do with me."

Boone sighed, leaning back against the truck. "You know, Ty, you’re not the first guy to mess up. But you don’t have to be the guy who keeps messing up. If you care about her, you need to talk to her. And not through some half-assed text message or phone call."

Tyler glanced up, confused. "Then what do I do?"

Boone smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You have to show her. Show her that she means something to you. It has to come from the heart. Do something that proves you see her, that you care, and that you’re willing to make it right."

Tyler let Boone’s words sink in, the weight of it settling over him. He knew he’d messed up—badly—and now he wasn’t sure how to fix it. But the idea of showing you how much he cared, of putting action behind the words he’d never said… it was the first thing that made sense in days.

But could he do it? Could he find the courage to face you after everything, after knowing that he was the one who made you feel like you were nothing more than an afterthought?

Tyler stared down at his cup, the taste bitter on his tongue. He had to try. He had to show you that you weren’t just another person in his life. You were the one person he couldn’t stop thinking about, the one he never should’ve let go.

Tyler stood in the parking lot of a gas station, his phone in hand as he stared at the DoorDash app. He’d scrolled through countless options, debating whether to go with something safe like pizza or take a risk. In the end, he decided on the riskier of the two options

He remembered how often you talked about that Chinese takeout place near your apartment, the one you always craved after long days. You’d even convinced him to try it once, and he’d never forgotten the way your eyes lit up when the food arrived. The memory was clearer than he expected, and now, standing alone in a parking lot, he wondered how he’d managed to let someone who knew him so well slip through his fingers.

He couldn’t remember your order. But he remembered that it was something with chicken. He used the pictures on the app and his memory to narrow it down to the dish he thought it was that you liked. With a deep breath, Tyler hit 'order' and added a note for the driver to leave the takeout at your door with a message: "For the long days. I know you love this place. —Tyler."

He hesitated before sending it, wondering if you’d even accept the delivery. Maybe you wouldn’t. Maybe you’d throw the food out without a second thought. But a part of him hoped that you’d understand what he was trying to say—that this was his first step toward making things right.

You sat on the couch, the remnants of the Chinese takeout scattered across the coffee table in front of you. The familiar flavors had been a comfort, even if you were reluctant to admit it. When you first saw the delivery bag at your door, your heart had skipped a beat, reading the note that was attached.

For a moment, you’d considered ignoring it—pushing it away like you’d been trying to push away the thoughts of him. But after a long day, it felt easier to accept the gesture, at least for what it was: food. Nothing more.

Now, sitting here with your phone in your hand, you debated whether or not to send a message. It wasn’t like you owed him anything, but the gesture had been thoughtful in its simplicity. And a small part of you knew he wasn’t doing it to get something in return—at least, you hoped that wasn’t the case.

Finally, you typed out a quick message: "Thanks for the food. It was good."

You stared at the screen for a moment, your finger hovering over the send button. It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t emotional. It was just an acknowledgment. Before you could overthink it, you hit send.

A few seconds passed, and you saw the notification that the message had been delivered. No reply came immediately, and you didn’t expect one. After all, it wasn’t like this was going to fix things between the two of you. But somehow, sending that simple thank you felt like a tiny weight off your chest, even if it barely scratched the surface of the bigger mess you were still sorting through.

The next morning, Tyler paced around his room, racking his brain for the next move. The takeout had been a start, but he needed to do more. He needed to show you that he hadn’t forgotten the details, even if he’d been too blind to see them before. 

His eyes landed on his phone again, this time opening a florist app. He wasn’t going to send roses. You hated roses. You’d said they were too cliché, something people picked when they didn’t really know the person. He wanted to send something that mattered.

Blue. Your favorite color. You’d mentioned it a few times, and while he didn’t know which flower you loved most, he figured blue would be a safe bet.

He scrolled through the bouquets until he found one that seemed perfect—a mix of blue hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, and white lilies. Simple, beautiful, and meaningful.

When he hit send, his heart pounded. It felt like such a small thing, but at the same time, it felt monumental. He was trying to show you that he was paying attention, that he knew you better than he’d let on.

The knock on the door was unexpected, especially after the Chinese takeout from yesterday. You weren’t sure what to expect this time, but as you opened the door and saw the delivery man holding a bouquet of blue flowers, your heart stuttered.

You took the bouquet, your eyes scanning the shades of blue nestled together in the arrangement. There were no roses—just as you’d once mentioned in passing. Instead, there were lilies, hydrangeas, and forget-me-nots. It was simple but thoughtful. He remembered.

As you set the bouquet on the kitchen counter, you caught sight of a small card tucked between the flowers.

“Not roses, just like you said. I hope you like these instead. –Tyler”

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you traced your fingers over the petals. For the first time since leaving the team, something stirred inside you—a mix of gratitude and maybe even the smallest bit of fondness. The forget-me-nots, in particular, caught your attention. They’d always been your favorite, and though you weren’t sure if he knew that or if it was just a lucky coincidence, it felt... special.

You sat down, flowers still in view, and grabbed your phone. Again, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But the flowers were different. They meant something more. He’d thought about this.

After a moment, you started typing: “The forget-me-nots are my favorite, by the way. For future reference…”

You hit send, and for a moment, you almost regretted it. Was that too much? But then you shook your head. No, it was just a small hint. A little crack in the wall you’d built. You weren’t letting him back in, but... you weren’t completely pushing him away either.

When your phone buzzed a few seconds later with a reply, you almost didn’t want to look. But curiosity got the best of you.

“Noted.”

It was simple, just like your message had been. But there was something in that word—Noted—that made you think maybe, just maybe, Tyler was trying to show that he wasn’t giving up. At least, not yet.

The sound of the doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. Another delivery? You stood up, your heart sinking slightly, bracing yourself for yet another gesture you weren’t sure how to interpret. When you opened the door, though, it wasn’t another delivery person—it was Tyler.

For a moment, you just stood there, frozen. Tyler was at your doorstep, looking both determined and vulnerable. He glanced at you, his eyes searching for something, maybe a hint of how you were feeling.

“Hi,” he said softly, as if unsure of how to begin.

“Hi,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a deep breath, his gaze shifting from the floor to your eyes. “I know this is probably the last thing you expected, and I know I don’t really have the right to be here. But I needed to see you.”

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart pounding. Tyler walked into the room, glancing around as if trying to take it all in.

“I want to start by saying that I’m truly sorry,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “Not just for leaving like I did, but for not seeing how much I hurt you. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and it’s clear that I messed up.”

You watched him, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. Tyler ran a hand through his hair, looking both pained and determined. “You know, I’ve been trying to adjust to how things are now, and I’ve realized just how much I miss you. Like, seriously. Boone’s music choices have been driving me nuts. It’s not even that he’s got bad taste, but I keep thinking about how you always knew exactly what songs I liked. And then there was the coffee—Dexter tried to get it for me, and it was all wrong. You always knew how I liked it. It’s the little things that I miss the most.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

Tyler noticed and seemed to take a breath of relief. “And Kate… she’s a great person, but she’s just a professional colleague. I got caught up in this idea we were working on, and I was so intrigued that I didn’t see how it was affecting you. I should have never left the team like that. I’m sorry for that, too.”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of hope and desperation. “But the real reason I’m here is because I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve had time to think about what I want, and it’s you. I love you. I love how you’re always there for me, how you know my favorite songs, how you care about the little things. I love your smile, your laugh, and even how you get annoyed with me sometimes. I’ve realized all the ways you’ve shown me that you care, and I’ve been blind to it.”

A heavy silence fell between you. Tyler’s eyes were pleading as he awaited your response. When one didn’t come after several moments he sighed. His shoulders tensed, and he began to fidget, anxiety evident in his movements. “Maybe I’ve messed this up. I didn’t mean to make things worse. I should probably just—”

Before he could finish, you stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Don’t,” you said softly. “I’ve waited a long time for you to say something like this. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

A smile of pure relief and happiness spread across Tyler’s face. He pulled you into a tender embrace, his lips finding yours in a kiss that spoke of all the words unspoken, all the emotions unexpressed. It was a kiss full of apologies, regrets, and hope for the future.

When you finally pulled back, you looked up at him, a sense of calm settling over you. “I love you,” you whispered.

Tyler’s eyes softened as he nodded, holding you close. “I love you,” he said, his voice barely more than a breath. He then leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in another kiss.

As your lips finally part, the soft hum of shared breath fills the space between you. Tyler’s forehead rests gently against yours, both of you lingering in that quiet, electric moment. You’re still standing close to the door, the rush of the kiss slowly giving way to a deeper warmth—something steady and grounding. His thumb brushes along your cheek, his gaze locked on yours as though he’s memorizing every detail of this moment.

You both stand there for a beat longer, neither in a hurry to move or speak. But then, Tyler’s eyes drift past you, landing on the bouquet of blue flowers in the vase on the kitchen counter. His lips curl into a smile, a playful glint flickering in his eyes.

“I see the flowers made the cut,” he teases, his voice soft but with that familiar hint of humor. He steps back just enough to point toward them. “Did I do okay?”

You glance over your shoulder at the flowers and then back at him with a smile. “You did more than okay,” you say warmly. “But I think I still owe you a proper thank you.”

His brows arch in interest. “A proper thank you, huh?”

Before he can respond, you reach up, pulling him back down into another kiss, this one slower, more certain, like you’re sealing the promise of something new between you.

[iliketangerines]

wife wife please 🙏 wife hear me out

okay either johnny finds out you got a CAGE tramp stamp and hits yo shit from the back

OR

climbing liu kang like a tree and he holds you up and SPEARS YOU ON THE MEAT

🫶 runs away

climbing the tower

a/n: @partycatty i wanted to get this out a day earlier but oh well

pairing: liu kang x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), slight dom/sub, hickeys, bite marks, blowjobs, deepthroating, wall sex, public sex (you're in the infirmary where anyone could walk in), slight overstimulation, praise kink, not proofread

you’re not short by any means, being a mediocre average height your entire life meant you had blended in with everyone else

well that, and your natural shapeshifter abilities, but after going through an identity crisis in your ripe teenager years, you usually felt most comfortable in your own skin

however, at the Wu Shi Academy, being average height meant that you were actually short

you wonder what they were feeding the other combatants because Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden all tower over you by several inches

and none of them let you forget it, constantly resting their elbows on your shoulders and making you their counter to rest on

it had led to quite a few bruises, mostly for Johnny and Kung Lao, but even Kenshi and Raiden had their moments where they teased you for your height

the jokes didn’t make you uncomfortable, not your height, with your shapeshifting ability, you could just be taller than them, but you hadn’t ever felt the need to

unless Liu Kang was around

he wasn’t that much taller than any of them, perhaps just by an inch or two, but still, his height, his broad shoulders, and his calm and gentle attitude had you sweating every time he came around you

embarrassing as it was, the way he towered over you always sent all the blood rushing downwards and for your tongue to twist into knots and for your body to feel as hot as burning coals

if Liu Kang ever noticed the slight demeanor change, he didn’t mention it, simply giving you that gentle smile and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

you’re sure that it would be the death of you, the soft but firm words, the gentle tone, the slight rasp in his voice as he gave orders to all of you

every time his hand touched you, you could never help but imagine his fingers touching elsewhere, buried in your hair, gripping onto your thighs, thrusting into your-

you jolt out of your thoughts as Kung Lao roughly elbows you in the side during breakfast, asking what’s got your head so high up in the clouds

scowling at the monk, you slap at his shoulder and pick up your spoon to finish off your breakfast of congee

he winces at the contact and dramatically drapes himself over Raiden, bemoaning about how his closest friend just beat him so viciously and that he would need a kiss to heal it

Raiden rolls his eyes, but the soft smile playing on his lips betrayed his true thoughts as the farmer turned his head to place a gentle kiss upon the monk’s lips

Johnny sighs from across the table, bemoaning just as dramatically as Kung Lao about saving the smooching for the bedroom, and Kung Lao simply flips off the actor before grabbing on tighter to Raiden, determined to put on a show and piss off Johnny as much as possibly

you just roll your eyes at the love sick sight and tip the bowl back, emptying the bowl of its congee, and you excuse yourself from the table just as Kenshi hisses at Johnny to stop being so overreactive

the start of another catfight begins, and you let out a quick huff of hair from your nose, shaking your head and smiling

absolute idiots, but you loved them all nonetheless

as you walk back, you stare at the ground, counting the tiles your feet step on and dodging the cracks in the concrete pavement, and you think back to Liu Kang

you liked Liu Kang, to say the least, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out your own lust when you had first saw him, and your feelings for him only grew stronger the longer you had hung out with him

he was kind, thoughtful, and most of all, so gentle and warm, and you snort at the irony of him being warm and being the god of fire

but still, your thoughts veer back on track as you think about him and you

you’re just a mortal, a human, a human with shapeshifting powers but human nonetheless, and he was a god, almighty and powerful and much more experienced and aged

it wouldn’t do you any good to desire him, to go after him, and you had tried to squash your own feelings for him, using your powers to match his height whenever he came around

a feeble effort to try and mitigate one of the reasons you liked him, but it wasn’t doing much good, not when his voice affected you more than anything or the way he held himself or the way that he was just so understanding and willing to listen and-

you barely manage to sidestep someone in front of you as they come into your field of view, and you snap your head up, shooting up in height as an instinctual reaction at the sight of Liu Kang

he cranes his neck to look at you as your head crashes into the ceiling above, and you let out a small groan and slowly diminish in height as you rub at the top of your head

Liu Kang asks if you are alright, and you wave him off, saying that he had just caught you by surprise

you shrink down to match his height and watch as he slightly quirks his eyebrow at you, wondering why you hadn’t shrunk down to your original height yet

shifting your weight, you say that you walk faster with long legs and that you should return your bowl to the kitchen and get back before Johnny and Kenshi get into a fight

the god lightly chuckles, just a small laugh and one barely audible over the slight breeze in the wind and the background of monks chanting in the background, but you think you’re about to fall over as heat rushes to your cheeks

how was he so attractive even just doing a simple thing

you give him a sheepish smile and hurry off to the kitchens, mumbling that you really have to get going, and you don’t notice his eyes following you as you speed walk away

when you come back to the dining room, Raiden sits next to Kenshi while Kung Lao sits next to Johnny, the actor and swordsman sporting congee on top of their uniforms as thy shoot ugly glances at each other while the farmers try and calm each other down

it seems like today would be a long one

training that day goes just as well as this morning, Johnny and Kenshi refuse to spar with anyone else but each other, leading to Liu Kang having to monitor their matches closely

you haven’t changed back into your normal height, and while you aren’t adverse to using your powers for extended periods of time, your skin was starting to crawl with the need to go back to normal

but still, something instinctual tells you to stay tall, to try and reduce your attraction to the god, and so you focus back on your own spar with Kung Lao

the monk smirks at you and beckons you toward him, and you reciprocate his grin before finally lunging at him

it’s a long match, drawn out and long, and unease prickles underneath your skin as you fight him in your changed height

you were used to fighting while average height, easier to move faster, to land lower blows, and now that you were taller than him, you were struggling

still, in the corner of your eye, you can still spot Liu Kang at the training fields, observing and watching you all

so you stay in your modified height and take the blows from Kung Lao, trying to change your strategy to incorporate your height

the match drags on for a few minutes, and you feel proud of yourself for managing to hold on this long

at least until Kung Lao kicks you onto your back with a particularly powerful blow, and your head smacks against the ground

pain explodes in the back of your head, and you groan, feeling your body twitch and change and morph as it struggles to deal with the pain

you don’t realize you’ve closed your eyes until the blurry figure of Liu Kang appears in your vision, blocking out the harsh sun as he asks if you’re okay

even in pain, your brain still manages to change the position dirty, filling your head with images of him bent over you in a different situation, skin sweaty and hot, hair disheveled and lips kissed swollen

he calls your name, and you let out a meek yes, sounding a bit whinier than you had wanted to, and Liu Kang sighs in relief and brings his hand to your shoulder to help you sit up

it burns your skin, the heat off of his palm, and you hope and pray that he can’t hear how your heart starts beating rapidly or how your face grows flush and sweaty underneath his touch

Liu Kang tells you he's going to bring you to the infirmary, turning his head away to briefly tell one of the monks overseeing that they are now in charge

his hands stay on your body as you stand up, the world still slightly spinning before you, and your head sways as black dots swim at the top of your vision

the god purses his lips and starts to guide you in the direction of the infirmary, his feet keeping pace with your now shorter legs

the longer and longer you walk to the med bay, the more your head clears, and the more you’re aware of his hand on your shoulder

of both of his hands on your shoulder and how you’re, at best, shoulder height now

you meekly try and push your way out of a visit to the health clinic, but he stares down at you with a hard gaze, and your protest dies in your throat as you try and reel in your own lust for him

it gets appreciably harder when he sits you down in the cot and inspects you himself, asking you questions in a low tone of voice as his hands move to you head to inspect for any swollenness

your voice strains to sound normal as you try to answer his question, the pain in the back of your head gone and replaced with the feeling of butterflies whirling inside of your stomach and liquid hot lust dripping down into your body

he hums and finishes his inspection, sighing and saying that you should be more careful, that using your powers for any longer than a few hours was something to be worked on gradually

besides, your strengths lay with your smaller stature, allowing you attacks that none of the other defenders could feasibly do

you nod your head, trying to avoid eye contact, lest he look into your soul and found the depravity hiding within

his brows furrow, and he tells you to look at him and to answer him with words, that he needed to make sure you understand

god take you now because you might actually stain the bed cot with how wet you are at his commanding tone of voice

you take too long to answer Liu Kang, and he gently raises your chin up to look at him, your neck straining upwards to look at his stern eyes and furrowed brows as he await your answer

it catches you by surprise, his hand on your face, and an involuntary whine slips out of you at the casual dominance

perhaps it would’ve been better if you had blacked out earlier because at least you wouldn’t be stuck in this uncomfortable situation

your face burns with embarrassment, mouth slightly parted at the fact that you had just whined, and Liu Kang lifts his eyebrows in slight surprise

his hand doesn’t falter, however,  on your chin, and he cocks his head at you, blinking as you try and sputter out words and excuses or really anything

he shifts in his position, somehow now looming over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out your vision and his thumb slips itself in between your parted lips

damn you and your body because you immediately go limp in his hold, mouth instinctively closing around his finger as you let him just lean over you

a small coy smile plays on his lips, and you’re too focused on trying to snap out of how good this all feels to realize that he figures out why you’ve been avoiding him lately

Liu Kang lets out a gentle huff of air, drawing his thumb out of your lips, but you don’t have any time to whine as he places his large hands on your waist and easily transfers you from the bed cot and into his lap

your thighs spread around his, trapping his legs in between yours, but you feel more expose as he spreads his legs, forcing your own to spread as well

even sitting in his lap, you’re still shorter than him, and he takes full advantage of this fact as he presses one hand into the small of your back to force you into the warmth of his skin as he leans forward, bending your back into a bow-like shape

you can’t think, can barely even breathe as your hands settle onto his shoulders, squeezing at the firm muscle to try and ground yourself into reality

even that grows difficult as he leans his head forward, nose bumping into yours, eyes boring down painfully through you, as if he could hear and see every thoughts, peeling away the layers of your mind to find your dirtiest fantasies about him

Liu Kang breathes out, eyes still focused onto yours, and you look away, turning your head to the side and squirming slightly at just how intimate this all was

he frowns at how you avoid his gaze, and his hand at your back goes to squeeze your thigh while his other cradles the back of your neck, squeezing it like he was scruffing a cat

his chest vibrates as he orders you to look at him, and you can feel something nervous grip onto your heart, squeezing and squeezing as you force your head to turn to look at him

you think you’re going to die because you’re so turned on right now that you can’t even process how Liu Kang clenches his jaw, trying to hold onto the small thread of control over himself

praise falls from his lips, saying that you were so good for following his command, and your hips rut forward of their own volition, desperately seeking for some sort of friction on your aching clit

Liu Kang hums at your neediness, eyes never leaving yours as he squeezes at your waist, and you whine again as you grind against empty air

it’s overwhelming how he surrounds you, the scent of ash and green tea in the air, his eyes boring into your soul, the warmth of his hand on the back of your neck, your thigh

as if the god knows, he leans his head forward to consume you completely, lips moving towards yours, and he pauses, just to let you have a choice to push him away just in case

you surge forward, wanting him to devour you, to completely surround you in his heat, and he groans and leans into you further, arching your back into a strained curve

but the ache of your muscle is negated by how his lips taste you, tongue dragging over your lips, low groans into your mouth that you can barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears

he kisses you like a starving animal, pressing into you further and further, seeking more and more of you until you had nothing more to give and then taking some more

your mind is melting, you’re pretty sure it is, and it doesn’t help when his hand on the back of your neck trails up and threads through your hair, pulling you head back as his lips move to your neck

his lips are soft against the skin of your neck, teasing and soft, leaving fervent kisses along the expanse of it, but you want more and gather what little grasp of your will you have left

you trail one of your hands on his shoulder down and shove it down his pants to grab onto his cock, hand firmly wrapping around it

Liu Kang lets out a loud groan against your skin, sinking his teeth into the flesh, and it makes you let out a choked sound as you try and give him some modicum of pleasure

his tongue licks over the mark, almost like an apology, but you find it a lie as he moves to another part of your skin and bites down again as you continue to try and stroke him

wriggling in his hold, you manage to let out a whiny plea for you to suck his cock

it gives the god pause, and his lips momentarily stop against your skin before pulling back to stare into your eyes again

he lets out a breath, asking if you were sure, and you squirm in his ironclad grip on you and let out a pitiful yes, voice high-pitched and breathy

Liu Kang hums and slowly, almost mournfully, lessens his hold on you and helps guide you on shaky legs down to your knees and in between his spread thighs

he pulls down his pants, intending on taking them fully off, but you’re too impatient and shuffle forward and grab onto his cock, perhaps feeling a bit intimidated at the size

it didn’t surprise you that he was thick, thicker than anything you had ever seen or practiced on, but still, there was a reason you were an earthrealm defender, you never backed down from a challenge

your other hand grabs onto his thigh for balance as you leans your head forward, tongue dragging against the length of his cock from base to tip

the god draws in a sharp breath and forces his hands to stay at his sides, wanting to see how far you would go before he would push you to your limits

you concentrate on the task before you, trying not to get too distracted with how his broad form looms over you and how absolutely fucking soaked you are at the sight

ignoring your own need, greedy to taste him, you wrap your lips around the head of him, tongue pressing into the slit to taste his pre-cum, and Liu Kang’s hands start to burn through the cloth of the bed cot

if you smell the burning linen, you don’t pay any mind, using one hand to stroke him up and down in controlled strokes while your mouth suckles at the tip

so, maybe you were a lot intimidated actually at the size of him, not his length, no that was only a bit above average

his girth on the other hand

you clench around nothing at the thought of him stretching you out, the slight burn, the addicting pressure, the feeling of fullness

Liu Kang grits his teeth, hand twitching and burning through the bed cit as he tries to not to bury his fingers in your hair and force your head all the way down until your nose touches down to the base of curls

humming slightly, listening to the choked moan of the god, you push forward, bringing the tip of his cock past your lips and bobbing your head up and down with the pace of your hand

slowly but surely, you take him further and further down your mouth, until he’s in your throat, and your lips burn and you’re sure that tears are falling down your face

he’s losing his self-control, heart beating rapidly in his chest at the sight of you so debauched, tears running down your face, eyes slightly glazed over as you focus on sucking his cock, and Liu Kang can’t help it as his hand finally leaves the bed to bury itself in your hair

his hand pushes you down further and further, and you let him take control, mind slowly going blank at how he’s filling every one of your senses

your nose buries itself into his pelvis, and distantly, you can hear him telling you to breathe through your nose, to stay calm, that you were doing so well for him, so good for him

your own hands grip onto his thighs, squeezing and kneading to try and keep yourself here and present, but control is slipping as you breathe in the scent of him

Liu Kang breathes out through his nose, as his hand tightens its grip on your hair as he moves your head up and down, trying to stay in control, trying to stay calm

and then you let out a breathy whine as his hips stutter and hit the back of your throat roughly, and the thin thread snaps as his other hand grips onto your head

it’s sinful, the wet sounds coming from your mouth, the way Liu Kang fucks into your throat, how your eyes stare up at him, teary and hazy as you moan

the sound vibrates through him, and he thinks he’s going to cum just like this, down your throat, despite his eons and eons of experience

but he doesn’t want to paint your face or your throat with his cum, at least not just yet, and he forces himself to pull your mouth off of his cock, missing the feeling of you immediately

you look dazed, wrecked, all from him, lips swollen and covered in your spit, drool hanging down your chin

Liu Kang drags you up into his lap and kisses you, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging his fingers into the plump meat of your thighs as he stands up

he walks forward, his lips never leaving yours as your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in forward, and your back finally meets the wall of the infirmary

the god grinds his cock into your clothed pussy, two layers too much, and he bites back a growl at the obstruction

balancing you on one hand, arm barely straining with effort, he reaches his free hand down in between you and tears at your pants easily, making you gasp

instantly, both of his hands dig into your ass once again and his cock presses up against your swollen and needy clit

after so long without any friction, you gasp and whimper at the contact, trying to push your hips forward to get more

he denies you, relishing how you squirm in his arms and how your whines grow needier and needier with each passing second

when you let out a small plea, your name hanging from his lips like honey and a sweet please melting into the air, he shakes his head

it would be too much for you, he hadn’t had the time to properly stretch you, to prepare you, and he didn’t want to hurt you

Liu Kang promises you another time, and you whine in frustration, pulling away from his lips with a glare

your thighs tighten around his waist as you lift yourself up just enough so that the head of his cock notches against you, and before he can react, you sink down, choking back your own moan

he should lift you up, get you off of him before you hurt yourself, but he can’t find it in himself to take you off, your pussy sucking him in further and further until your hips finds themselves flush with his

you whine, head buried into the crook of his neck, and he breathes out harshly through his nose, straining every fiber of his being to not lift you up and begin fucking into you

it’s a brutal several minutes as you adjust to his size, taking in deep stuttering breaths as he murmurs into your ear to breathe, that you were doing so well for him

his thumbs rub circles into the sides of your skin as you calm down, and then you finally squirm impatiently on his dick, clenching your pussy around him and forcing a groan out of him

you moan, begging him to move, and Liu Kang tightens his grip on your legs and finally starts bouncing you on his cock, knocking any sense that you might have left in your brain

the lewd sounds of your pussy fill the air with your moans and whimpers, and Liu Kang wants to taste your pleasure, your desperation

he brings his lips to yours again, kissing you, swallowing every one of your sweet sounds as he thrusts up into you, trying to angle his hips to hit that one sweet spot

when you yelp into his mouth, stars bursting behind your eyelids and arms tightening around his neck, he smiles against your lips and fucks into the spot, making sure that the fat head of his cock bullies relentlessly into it

you swear you’re being lifted into the heavens, higher than the heavens actually, pleasure singing through every nerve in your body and your orgasm was hurtling towards you faster than you had ever known

Liu Kang finally pulls away, and you’re sure that you look dazed and already fucked out

in the haze of your pleasure, you almost miss him telling you to do something, and you have to let out a pathetic what, interrupted by a pitiful whine as he fucks back into your sweet spot

he tells you to rub your clit, his voice rumbling through you and straight down as you hear a loud squelch

but you comply immediately, craving your release, feeling dizzy by how he surrounds you, and your fingers rub against your clit slowly and lightly

his eyes are transfixed on the sight, the bud swollen and coated in your wetness, and he tells you to pinch it, to be rough

pleasure already overwhelms you, but you listen, body shaking and hand struggling as you overstimulate yourself, pinching and rolling your clit between your fingers

Liu Kang practically purrs, telling you to keep doing that, to keep listening to him and being so good for him, groaning as he feels your pussy pulse around him in tandem with how you play with your clit

you can’t even warn him as you cum on his cock, keening loudly and rubbing at your clit in tight rough circles as you ride your high

the god just shoves his mouth to yours, devouring you completely as you lose yourself, his hips never stopping, never changing as he fucks you through your pleasure

only when you feel the last of your orgasm dribble out does his hips falter, and he groans into your mouth as he cums inside of you, fucking it deeper and deeper inside of you with each slowing thrust

eventually, he stops, his cock still buried inside of you, and he just kisses you, enjoying how you taste him as well, how you grow more gentle with your lips as your body starts to sag from exhaustion

Liu Kang helps you to your feet, smiling internally when you look up at him and ask in a feeble voice if he could carry you

he obliges, because how he could he not, and picks you up, the bend of your knees supported by one arm while his other arm supported your upper back

your arms wrap around his neck once more, and you tuck your head in against his chest, eyes closing slightly as you mumble that you don’t think you can walk anymore

glancing down at the mess you and he had made on the floor, he’s not surprised and presses a kiss to the top of your forehead as he brings you back to your room

he had you in his arms now, and he wasn’t going to let go

[ovaryacted]

MDNI/18+. NSFW. CW: smutty thoughts, collar usage, pet play vibes, dom/sub dynamics.

Typing this fast as fuck while I’m at work so I apologize if there are any typos. I gotta get this out. Don’t jump me pleak.

Something something, Logan coming home from being out all day just to get hit with your bratty attitude. You’ve been irritated for the past few days, you don’t even know why you’re upset to begin with, but just that you’ve been on edge. Every time Logan tries to get you to talk about it, you shrug or brush him off, and he’s not the type to intrude so he gives you your space and leaves you alone in the meantime.

Well today he’s had it.

With a hand on your bicep, he brings you to the living room, plops down in front of you and orders you to go into the closet and bring out your collar including the leash.

You had half a mind to argue with him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t in the mood for backtalk. So you follow through on his order, coming back into the living room and handing him the collar with a pout. Your knees hit the floor soon after, his thick fingers move to click the collar around your neck, making sure it was snug against your skin, the feel of it keeping you grounded.

With one hand, he tugs on the leash, wrapping it tight in his fist and holds your face by pinching your cheeks, forcing you to look at him in the eye.

“You’re going to sit there and think about how you’re acting, and when you’re done being a fucking brat, you talk to me. Got it?”

You nod without saying a word, kneeling in front of Logan while he reaches for the remote to turn the TV on, putting something for background noise.

Thirty minutes pass by and Logan’s eyes never left the TV screen. The more you stayed situated on the ground and the less attention you got from Logan, the quicker the frustration dissipated until you’re leaning against his leg. Anger and irritation no longer in your body once you nuzzle your head against Logan’s knee, the inner parts of you craving affection, something to hold you together.

His heavy palm comes to stroke the top of your head, a hum spilling out of your lips as he did. Your eyes flutter closed, a gentle pull on your leash brings your head lifting up to look at him, your sight lining up with hazel irises.

“Are you done throwing a hissy fit?”

His tone wasn’t as sharp as before, and your nod this time around wasn’t as coordinated, mind slowly reaching that fuzzy headspace where your brain was turned off.

“You gonna talk to me now then?”

You don’t say anything but shake your head. The last thing you wanted to do was talk actually. Instead, your eyes drop down to the obnoxious metal of his belt buckle, sneaking a bit lower to the bulge where you knew what laid underneath. He chuckles, the corner of his lip curling up to show a pearly white canine.

“Your brain doesn’t work for shit other than thinking about getting fucked. Ain’t that right baby?”

You didn’t get a chance to respond, the leash being yanked and forcing your face to collide directly with his pelvis, nose pressing into the worn denim of his jeans. The moan you’ve been holding in seeps through the material, mouth watering as you pant against the zipper.

“I’m done dealing with your mood swings. So you’re going to make it up to me, and I’ll make sure there ain’t a single drop of your attitude left.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[lets-try-some-writing]

Emergency Protocols: To Preserve A Legacy

Optimus Prime has fallen, and now everyone must deal with the after effects of his sudden and horrific death. Knockout, unlike the rest of the Decepticons, has taken grim inspiration from the loss.

Part 1 here.

(Warning for robogore)

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

“This is an order! Every mech will travel in a group until further notice!” Megatron’s order rang out on the bridge, earning frantic nods of understanding from every single Vehicon present. Starscream in particular seemed keen to obey an order for once and almost instantly grabbed a few Vehicons to stay by his side.

Knockout watched quietly, his optics never once leaving the screen above Megatron’s helm.

“I don’t care what you are doing or what your orders are. If I catch anyone alone, there will be consequences.” Megatron all but growled as he glared down at every one of his soldiers. Knockout’s optics cycled in quiet interest at the sight, but he refused to look away from the screen and the beginnings of grotesque suffering playing on it.

“The Autobots have begun to fall. We cannot risk such a fate ourselves.” The warlord’s words were frighteningly shaky as a video played on screen. It was a recording obviously taken by Soundwave, or perhaps Laserbeak. Whatever the case, it projected a scene of true horror.

Optimus Prime wailed in agony, his frame tearing itself apart as buds began to form all over him. One on each limb, and two great ones on his chassis and jetpack. He tore himself to pieces, ripping off armor and frantically screeching as his frame cannibilized itself to produce six new lives. That was a new record, at least in modern documentation. The largest recorded budding only produced five newbuilds. How very Optimus of him.

“Prime succumbed, and if a mech as mighty as him fell, any one of us is just as likely to suffer a similar end.” The recording zoomed in on Optimus’s expression of sheer agony as he tried to crawl on mutilated limbs. If things were different, Knockout might have gagged as he watched the Prime convulse, wheeze, and then fall still while whatever remained of him was consumed by his unwanted offspring.

As it was, Knockout found himself more intrigued than afraid, especially as the recording showed the six that came from the fallen Prime. Five of them were flight frames, an incredible oddity considering Optimus was, up until his reforging, a grounder. The sixth was the one that really caught his attention. The newbuild had Optimus’s structure, tapered waist, and overall build. But they had an interesting series of differences, a few of which felt vaguely familiar.

“Be wary! And never find yourselves alone! Until we can confirm that none of our number are liable to succumb to this brutality, this ship is on lockdown.” With a final wave of his servo, Megatron marched off, likely to hound Soundwave about something or other. The Vehicons filed off eventually, most huddled in groups of five or more to limit their fear. A few attempted to gather around Knockout, but he waved them off.

He didn’t want companionship. He had other plans.

Making his way back to the medical bay, Knockout quietly shut the door behind him and locked it. He settled at his console, tapping the device thoughtfully as he pulled up the recording of Optimus Prime’s final moments all over again. He really should have been disgusted or upset with what he was going to be seeing, but after so much loss, it was more interesting than anything else. Eventually, the Decepticons would have someone end up budding. After all, one budding meant that the situation was dire. Dire circumstances induced panic, and panic tended to make budding happen in other subjects even if their numbers were acceptable.

Stress was bound to get to them. After all, activation of the protocols needed for budding only required a deep sense of loneliness and isolation. If the crew felt that they were alone, those who were capable of budding were likely going to begin expiring one after another. The Vehicons would be fine, largely since they were the result of budding and cold forging. Empurata victims were incapable of budding since the entire section of their processor devoted to registering emotional distress was deactivated, so Shockwave would be fine. Beastformers tended to take longer to start budding, meaning that Arachnid would be alright on her own for a while. The same went for the Insecticons and the Predacons.

That left high command of both the Autobots and the Decepticons. Optimus had already keeled over, and considering how traumatic and sudden it was, Knockout didn’t doubt that someone else would follow after him. Probably Ratchet or the Prime’s unofficial ward. 

One by one, the shock and horror would get to all of them, regardless of faction.

They were well and truly slagged. Sooner or later, all the big players in the war would combust into several smaller and inexperienced idiots who would, inevitably, end the war at some point. Be it through extinction or peace, it wasn’t really important. Knockout personally had no desire to live in a world or on a restored Cybertron with a bunch of framewalkers who looked far too similar to old friends and foes for his liking. It all seemed so pointless. 

He was tired. That was the only way he had to describe the sheer apathy burning in his spark. Breakdown, his other half, was gone, taken by enemies who were now long dead and dispersed. There were no more victors to join, not when everyone would quickly be put on even ground once old grudges joined their holders in the grave. There was no point to all of it anymore. What did he have to gain from trudging ever onward? A restored homeworld? Sure, that might be nice for a grand total of five kliks, but it wouldn’t be the same without proper closure or Breakdown.

“If we’re all doomed anyway, we might as well make the most of it.” He grumbled, taking great care to not rub his face and ruin the polish, even though exhaustion weighed on him. They were all going down, so why not try and make it somewhat meaningful? Budding was a process that had not been properly studied since the Quintessons ruled. It either happened in private or it was so sudden that no real documentation could be made. Case point: Optimus’s spontaneous and gruesome death.

If he was going to die, he wanted to leave something behind and perhaps even secure his legacy with something important.

“Show me what you’ve got, sweet rims.” He pressed play on the video, leaning back in his chair as he sighed and observed Optimus’s final moments. He had to watch it three or four times before he became desensitized enough to actually start making note of things of interest, but he got there after a few sessions of wretching into his disposal unit.

Optimus’s early symptoms began with itching and, from the looks of it, twitchyness and emotional turmoil. That seemed about right overall. Then it seemed that as the budding began, tearing off armor was an instinctual response meant to allow the buds to grow without hindrance. The spine tearing out of the back appeared to just be a side effect of one of the buds developing in that location, as bones and other skeletal structures also tore free where buds developed on the Prime’s body. 

The malformation didn’t appear to be a necessary part of the process, but one that Optimus unfortunately endured due to the sheer number of buds on him. The buds themselves sucked protomatter right out of their host by liquidizing the host’s internals. A lot was lost, as evidenced by Optimus quite literally being dismeboweled via his innards turning to goo and oozing out of him. Frankly, it seemed that the process was largely streamlined. Optimus was just an unfortunate victim of Primely fertility.

If he were back on Cybertron, he might have broken the record again by producing more due to his increased mass prior to their arrival on the mudball they currently called their battlefield.

“Noted. More buds equals more pain.” He tapped the console methodically, watching again and again as Optimus wailed and endured a fate far worse than most other forms of death. Knockout took notes meticulously, observing with silent interest as he watched the buds develop over and over again. The biggest of the lot caught his attention more than the others. That one was obviously a powerhouse in the making, having Optimus’s overall frame structure. But there was something about the new build—something unique.

Once he recorded everything he could from the video, Knockout turned to the database. His digits flew across the keys until he pulled up Optimus’s record. A few passwords later, and he was looking at sensitive data that was only tenuiously confirmed. The Prime’s history in the archives, embarrassing and noteworthy developmental milestones, but most importantly, his relationships.

Optimus only had one confirmed romantic partner. The depth of their relationship was not recorded, but there were enough indicators of a spark merge having been involved for Knockout to feel fairly confident calling them Conjunxes. With that in mind, he pulled up the video again on his second screen, zooming in on the largest of the newbuilds hovering around Optimus’s battered corpse. 

He looked at Elita-One’s picture and then at the newbuild. The similarities were obvious. The frame shape, the kibble placement, even the newbuild’s optics. All of them were similar to Elita. Had the spark merged influenced the budding to produce a newbuild that possessed Optimus and Elita’s traits?

“A spark merge affecting a newbuild... it’s certainly not impossible.” He tapped the console with more frequency as he considered the possibilities. If all of high command was going to keel over, Knockout most likely included, why shouldn’t he research the process? Why shouldn’t he make the most of it? For Optimus and Elita to have produced a bud that carried both their traits after what might have only been a single spark merge...

He stood up sharply, his optics widened as he glanced over at the single piece of Breakdown’s armor he’d taken from the corpse as a keepsake. It sat innocently on his shelf, a reminder of the loss and now a symbol of possible hope.

“One merge. It only took them one merge.” He reached out to collect the piece of armor, a dark plan forming in the back of his processor. He didn’t necessarily want to die, but it was going to happen anyway. Sooner or later, he’d drop dead and spawn something that was but an echo of himself. Why not die on his own terms? He could study the process of budding and, if things worked out, preserve Breakdown’s legacy as well.

He’d keep his reputation as Cybertron’s finest medic through his research, and he’d be able to honor his fallen partner before joining him. It saved him from having to go on endlessly without the mech he loved most, and it meant that all his loose ends would be neatly tied up. He wouldn’t have to live in a world not his own with mecha mimicking the dead.

It would be painful, but he could limit that to a certain extent. 

"Well, Breakdown, it seems I’ll be seeing you soon enough.” A grin wormed its way onto Knockout’s features as he laughed and carried the piece of plating over to his workbench. There was much to do, and considering the panic amongst the crew, very little time.

“Lord Megatron, I’ll be performing a little analysis on some sensitive material over the course of the next deca-cycle or so. Don’t worry if I’m unavailable; my research will prove quite useful, I’m certain.” He sent his message to Megatron with quiet glee as he settled at his workbench. He had preparations to see to and he couldn’t afford an interruption. Not now.

“All alone now. It’s just us, Breakie.” Tapping the piece of plating, Knockout laughed again before gathering his determination to drop the piece into a vat. He placed the vat into one of his extractors and stepped back, looking over himself and his medical bay. While CNA was being extracted from Breakdown’s plating, Knockout could begin his real work.

He spent a whole cycle thinking through Optimus’s fate and preparing for every eventuality. He methodically, albeit with much chagrin, removed his outer armor. He would rather not endure the pain of ripping it all off in a frenzied madness and so opted to skip that step altogether. Once that was all removed, he began preparing various painkillers of different doses. Too much at one time might have a negative effect on himself or his spawn, so a gentle ramping up of the solution would be necessary. The finished solutions were left near the medical berth, ready to be used.

For good measure, he adjusted the straps on the medical berth to activate the moment he laid down and to deactivate once his vitals dropped beyond a certain threshold. He couldn’t risk the buds, not when they were going to be so vital to his goals.

“As much as I pride myself on my finish, I do think you’ll forgive me this once for not sporting the red you adored so much.” Knockout found himself laughing more and more in the quiet of his medical bay by just the second cycle of work. He had gone to great pains to continually keep himself from heading out for any reason, and so far it seemed to be working. He could feel a faint tingle underneath his plating.

He wasn’t quite sure if it was nerves getting to him or not, but as he handled a full vial of Breakdown’s CNA, he reassured himself of his goal. He was going to do this and document the whole affair.

This was fine. He was going to be fine. He wanted this. He’d get to see Breakdown again.

Right?

“Breakdown, I hope you aren’t going to be too upset. I’m doing this for both of us.” He spoke into the open air, quietly and with more than a little hesitance. It took all of his mental fortitude to keep it together when Megatron called him.

“Knockout, what in the Unmaker’s name are you doing?” The warlord’s glyphs were harsh and layered with over a dozen vaguely fearful undertones. Knockout would have grinned, but he couldn’t blame Megatron for being afraid. Optimus was dead. The Prime of Cybertron was not only gone, but the first to have perished. In a way, Knockout envied him. To be the first meant Optimus didn’t have to watch everyone crumble around him.

“Lord Megatron, as I stated in my previous message, I am working on something of incredible importance. Don’t worry your pretty little helm about it. The experiment shall conclude in a few cycles, just as planned.” He kept up his usual attitude of cockiness as he stared at scans he’d taken of his frame. According to what his machinery was gathering, his frame was starting to swell in places, small pockets of protomatter less than an inch in side, all forming one by one all over him like organic skin pores.

It was rather disgusting to think about it in that light.

“Do you have assistants with you? I will not risk this vessel’s only medical expert offlining.” Knockout fought back a scoff as he held the vial of Breakdown’s extracted CNA. He fiddled with the container, smiling as he replied.

“Of course. I have my most trusted assistant right by my side.” Megatron made a noise of agreement before shutting down the comm link. Knockout leaned against his console, fondling the vial a while longer as he looked up at his scans. 

Soon. Very soon.

The cycles wore on, and as they did, Knockout dutifully documented the changes. His need for fuel had drastically decreased, a sign of his frame preparing for something or other. Additionally, he was recharging more and more often and for longer periods of time. A certain level of lethargy hung in his limbs, making it difficult for him to continually make note of his circumstances and not leave his medical bay despite how much base instinct tried to get him to move and go toward where he knew there were others.

Megatron bothered him every now and then, but Knockout was quite skilled at keeping his tone even. The warlord suspected nothing, just like Knockout wanted. This was meant to be special—just him and Breakdown. He didn’t want his boss to come kicking the door down in an attempt to stop what had already begun and ruin the significance of it all.

“Till all are one... you know, Breakdown, I never really believed in that lovely quote from the Primacy. But I think it makes more sense now that we’re going to make something beautiful together.” He was tired, so very tired. But looking into the faint blue glow of the vial containing all that was left of his other half, Knockout found something akin to peace settling in his spark. His frame ached, but soon everything would be better.

“I miss when you held me in your arms and complimented my features. I don’t think I ever told you that the reason I kept up the red was because you liked it so much.” Leaning back in his chair, Knockout held the vial to his chassis, closing his optics in order to pretend that somehow, through some miracle, Breakdown was with him. He imagined firm servos on his shoulders, massaging tense cables and helping him unwind after a long cycle. 

Fond memories supplied him with a cheerful laugh filled with nothing but adoration as he and Breakdown playfully bantered, exchanging gossip like there wouldn’t be consequences if they were caught distracted. He recalled all their frantic couplings, never daring to risk taking too long to be one in mind and spark for fear of punishment. He wished he’d taken more time back then. He wished he’d savored the protective warmth of his companion’s spark brushing up against his own in the most intimate of kisses.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from taking you.” Coolant gathered in his optics as his frame began to heat up in response to his unsettling emotional state. He felt the drops roll down his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe them away. He merely held the chilled vial close, desperately longing for a spark signature that was long gone. It was clinical, so very clinical... and there was no warmth to be found.

“I’m sorry, I’m too weak to go on without you. I know… I know you’d want me to live life to the fullest in your absence, but I can’t.” His composure cracked as he looked up at the ceiling, trying not to gaze around his medical bay in the vain hope that his beloved might still be there, gathering supplies or sorting through datapads on his behalf. 

He could hardly vent; it hurt so much.

“Not without you.” Primus was cruel to take a mech as good as Breakdown so soon.

The itching started around the fifth cycle of his isolation. It was faint at first, but then it grew more and more difficult to ignore. It felt like he was bloated, almost as if he had a series of microscopic tears in every single one of his fuel lines. He scratched without meaning to more often than not, and more than once he had to set his door to lock automatically to keep himself from running out.

Itching, itching, itching.

He wished Breakdown were there to caress his frame, chasing away the discomfort with loving touches and soothing words. For such a big mech, he was so very kind. 

But Breakdown was gone. He’d been gone for months now. All Knockout had left was a vial of his CNA. His forever’s final gift and remnant.

By the sixth cycle, taking decent notes was all but impossible. He settled on setting up a camera just above the medical berth for when he inevitably met his end. He was fidgety, itching, and nervous in a way he’d never been before. Sometimes he found himself pacing, muttering nonsense that he only managed to stop through sheer force of will.

The itch never stopped. 

Emotional codes became tangled and out of place. Priority calculations shifted and left him paranoid, leading Knockout to try and perform manual labor more than once before realizing he was out of his designated role. His protocols were blaring all the time, drowning out his vision with demands for him to find a group and to get to safety. He screamed at some point, clutching his helm and whimpering at how overwhelming it all was.

How had Prime dealt with it all before death all but snuck up on him?

On what he assumed was the seventh cycle, the itch turned to an infuriating burn. Clawing at his protoform and base armor wasn’t enough. It hurt, so much so that he could hardly see straight, much less make any logical decisions. All he had the strength to do was jab and IV with his painkillers into his arm and inject himself with Breakdown’s precious CNA before he collapsed onto his medical berth, the straps clamping down on his limbs.

The vial was discarded on the ground, empty, and used. Despite the fact that it no longer had anything of Breakdown left in it, Knockout wished he could hold it, if only to comfort himself as the pain increased.

Panic set in not long after the straps finished tightening. His venting hitched as the burn worsened. For a moment, he regretted every life decision he’d ever made, including his idiotic choice to go down in flames like he was taking one for the team. When had he ever been a team player? What the frag was wrong with him?

“Slag. This is going to hurt.” He winced, biting back a cry as he felt the first tears begin to form along his protoform. Optimus had skipped this part entirely, going straight for bone obliteration and internal shredding. Knockout almost wished he could do the same as cracks began running along his limbs, the angle of the medical berth letting him see how energon and protomatter started to swell in the wounds.

The painkillers were his salvation as he watched in grim fascination, observing as his very protoform bubbled as if an inflamed fuel line was growing and threatening to burst right beneath the surface layer of his very being. He bit his lower derma as his protoform continued to bulge, finally bursting in his legs and in his right arm. He didn’t dare cry out, instead forcefully silencing himself for as long as possible.

Screams would draw attention. Sound would ruin this precious moment between himself and what he was going to make. This was a family matter, his and Breakdown’s last gift to the world. It couldn’t be interrupted.

Cables burst, spurting energon that trickled down the medical berth and pooled on the ground beneath him. Wires and various connectivity tissues pulsed and all but slithered as the buds started to take shape. It hurt like slag, but it wasn’t as bad as it likely would have been without painkillers. The scene itself was still a work of horror, especially as the small mounds began to grow, their mass pushing aside everything else.

“Looks like at least one of these buds is going to turn out just like you, Breakdown! They’ve got your size already!” Knockout laughed, lost in medically induced mania as the bud on his left leg swelled and caused the entire limb to bloat. His pede shifted, deforming before snapping off entirely to allow the bud to consume the stump. Knockout did end up screaming as his bones snapped under the weight of the thing, every pain receptor in the limb activating in hot waves of agony.

The bone stuck out from his leg, jutting at an odd angle and glittering blue as if Primus himself had thrown some sort of polish on it. Knockout could see every single micro-connector within the broken skeletal structure, still pulsing with charge. The medic in him screamed, demanding he heal the wound. But he was well aware of his doom. The metal around his abdomen was already graying, a sign of severe energon loss.

There was no stopping it now.

The chorus of suffering was only added to as the two other buds performed similarly. The smaller one on his right leg bulged and crawled up his limb like mold, eating away at his plating with acidic effects that revealed delicate circitry that sizzled and popped as they were corroded. Knockout couldn’t have possibly predicted that outcome with how the bud on his left leg was acting. The one on his arm hurt the most, surprisingly. Knockout could hardly see through the coolant, causing his vision to become hazy, but he did note his digits doing the same thing that Optimus’s had before his death. They increased in size, the plating oozing with protomatter before cracking and all but exploding to make way for the bud.

The remnants of his digits were nothing more than thin skeletal bones connected only by tender ligaments, which had quickly begun to lose their strength. 

He shrieked as the painkillers were overridden by the sheer amount of torment assaulting him. There was no comfort to be found as he started to flail, composure fleeing him as he cried out for anyone to help him. He was sure he screamed for Breakdown most, but at some point he must have cried for someone else as well, because he started to hear murmurs outside his medical bay. A Vehicon must have noted his wails.

“Breakdown-!” He sobbed against his restraints, hardly able to watch as more and more parts of his very frame tore themselves apart. The buds did not climb higher than their sectioned limbs, but they consumed, ripped, and tore. There was so much blue. So much blue...

Crack after crack, cry after cry. It blended into a meaningless babble. 

At some point, the agony almost entirely ceased as weight dropped off Knockout like a heavy burden long forgotten. The straps holding him came undone, leaving him to lay there, bleeding out and struggling to keep his fans running. The relief he felt was palpable as he reveled in the lack of pain. Although the chill that crept into what remained of his frame did little to comfort him.

Once he’d cleared the coolant from his optics, he mustered the will to look toward the ground where the three buds floundered. The sticky mounds convulsed, thin stick-like limbs jutting out in almost spider-like fashion before more living metal could wreath the limb in musculature and mass. The things looked horrifying as faces tore themselves from the masses, gaping intakes and lightless optics appearing half melted before they convulsed a few more times and finally booted online.

Knockout’s venting slowed as energon loss began to set in. The painkillers were finally doing their slagging job, giving him a half-decent look at his spawn as they stood up one by one, looking over their frames with the innocence of the newly forged. The newbuilds were so very fascinating, so very... Breakdown, each in their own way.

“You are not supposed to be alive.” The biggest of the bunch, a heavy-set newbuild with a rounded helm structure and bright headlights already in formation, addressed Knockout quietly. There was no mockery, no insults, merely an observation. This was like him. Knockout could see it in the red optics that met his own. They were modeled just like Breakdown’s.

“Just had to make sure... that you lot carried Breakdown... in your CNA as well.” His voice came out as little more than a pitiful wheeze, but Knockout didn’t have the presence of mind of care as the other two stared at him. The smallest of the ground was also quite a bulky thing, another of Breakdown’s traits. They shone with gold optics, so reminiscent of his beloved.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, originator.” The smallest one looked him up and down, likely assessing the horror that was Knockout’s devastated frame. He managed a grim laugh at that, even as his senses started to dull.

“You look just like him.” Knockout coughed up energon, his spark flaring painfully in remembrance as the last of the newbuilds waved to him shyly. The newbuild was blue and orange, looking almost exactly like his other creator in all but accenting paint and digits. He had Knockout’s claws, a fact that brought him no small amount of pride.

“You’ve done well, originator. Return to your Conjunx. We will take over from here.” The biggest of the newbuilds touched Knockout’s helm, caressing his helm crest and audials in a fond manner. His venting hitched again, this time in loss as he looked over all three of his spawn.

Breakdown would have been thrilled to meet them.

“Your… designations?” His vision started to fail him as he stared at the three. They shared a look, and then all of them smiled.

“Flatline of Knockout and Breakdown.” The largest answered first, bringing more tears to Knockout’s optics as he heard both his and his beloved’s designation. They were both honored here.

“Quickmix.” The smallest replied curtly, but they were kind enough to touch Knockout’s shoulder in their form of a silent goodbye. They reminded Knockout of himself when he was young. At least this one would have siblings to help them along.

“Wildbreak... of Knockout and Breakdown.” The last of the bunch uttered their name quietly, but with a hint of awe. Knockout couldn’t help but smile as his vision failed him and the touches of his three creations lingered on his frame.

This... this had been worth it.

“We did it… Breakdown.” His voice was lost as his hearing started to putter out. The last thing he heard was his door crashing down and the booming voice of Megatron echoing in his medical bay.

“KNOCKOUT-!”

[imnotyetfound]

My take on Five/Lila - and why they were endgame

I’ve seen so many people say that Five and Lila didn’t make any sense, and I just disagree. I've tried to really motivate why, and also why I see them as endgame. Feel free to agree or disagree.

First of all, Five and Lila share a common background of being raised plus trained as survivors and weapons. Five was molded by his time in the apocalypse, the Commission and his ruthless upbringing within the Hargreeves family, while Lila was similarly trained and manipulated by the Handler. Both of them were forced into brutal, high-stakes environments from a young age, developing a sense of independence, ruthlessness, and survival instincts that the rest of the family can’t fully relate to. We see this especially in Five and Lila’s difficulties in showing emotional vulnerability and trusting others. This shared experience means they both understand the cost of their traumatic upbringings and can relate to each other’s emotional scars in ways others just won’t be able to. So already by this, they’re somewhat bonded from the start.

In other similarities both Five and Lila possess extraordinary intelligence and tactical thinking. They challenge each other in a way no one else does. This has been an ongoing thing between them, bouncing off each other and sometimes teaming up. It’s also what drew them to work on another mission together in S4, there has always been some kind of pull/push there. Personality-wise both Five and Lila have a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the world. But despite the cynicism, they still manage to eventually relax and find humor in each other’s company. The lighter moments we’ve seen between them at times have been an interesting contrast to their otherwise serious and violent lifestyles. 

I do believe their shared backgrounds and personalities created a bond that was then further strengthened during the years they spent lost in the subway together. Isolated from the rest of the world, they literally only had each other for company. The intimacy and trust that grew between them was inevitable. When you have no one else to rely on, you’re going to develop a relationship stronger than under normal circumstances. So over those years, they must have grown close in ways that no one else could fully understand. Even though we didn't get to see every detail of how it unfolded (because the season was way too short), it’s not difficult to imagine.

I’d also say they naturally grew a bond stronger than with any other character at that time, except for the one between mother and child which is why Lila’s need to be with her children would always make her go home if given the chance. Five knew this and it’s the reason he kept the solution from her for months. 

Now, to my thoughts about their actions in regards to Diego as this is often brought up. The argument that Lila cheated on her husband with Five is understandable from a moral perspective, if we see it as just that without any context. But when you consider the circumstances it is way more nuanced. You have to look at not only the environment they found themselves in, but also the emotional and psychological journey they went through together. Their relationship was ultimately forged over a shared background and then several years of isolation. Then you add to the fact that Diego seems to have treated Lila like crap in the years leading up to the isolation, she said it herself he was always moping around and complaining while she sacrificed her life to stay at home and take care of the kids. She even told him she needed a break to reassess their relationship. I do believe her and Five had somewhat already begun an emotional affair before the isolation, the way they were sneaking off together and clearly wanted to keep their thing separate from Diego and the others. Yet they still didn’t get physical until they settled down, believing they weren’t gonna find a way back.

Also, it’s important to here consider the strength of the bond, as I mentioned earlier, that Five and Lila must have developed over those years. They knew each other better than anyone else by the end. Spending every day together in a survival situation with nothing else around would likely create an unparalleled level of intimacy and emotional closeness. This bond would probably transcend Lila’s previous relationship with Diego, and maybe even Five’s bond with his siblings. It’s been years since he returned to them and they had all grown in separate directions. Lila and Five however had recently experienced something life-changing together, and it is unfair to dismiss the strength of their connection as something unethical or out of character when their reality had shifted so drastically from when the show started.

Another important point here is how the relationship with Lila allowed Five to finally be "human" and emotionally open in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. Five was obviously emotionally detached as a result of both his past trauma and the burden of being a hyper-intelligent man in the body of a boy. With Lila, he had the chance to just feel love and trust without worrying about anything else. So I do think this outweighs his “betrayal” against his brother as people claim.

Now on to how and why Five and Lila were endgame. I’m convinced that Lila did love Five despite her choice to leave their isolation. To me this was cemented as she didn’t deny her feelings when Diego asked her straight out. If she wanted to make Diego feel better she could have easily denied her feelings for Five to reassure him. Yet even when asked twice she couldn’t do it. There was also Lila’s look of relief when Five returned to them at the end. It was Five who Lila allowed to comfort her after she said goodbye to her family, trusting him in her most vulnerable moment instead of blipping back to Diego and the others. These events showed the deep trust and emotional intimacy that still existed between them after returning to “the real world”. Despite her saying it was over. I also want to add here that Lila took Five’s hand as they were dying, the look between them was for me at least silently saying they loved each other. 

So all in all I do believe that the connection and love between Five and Lila was authentic. It also made sense. They’re able to understand each other’s emotional complexities, including their darker tendencies, without needing to change who they are. Still their time together seemed to actually have softened them both when they finally had the chance to settle down, almost as if they were healing from past trauma together. This would forge a relationship that no one else could replicate without going through the same experience. Making Five and Lila a reasonable endgame, which they also were in my eyes considering they died holding hands.

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Summary:  Five and Lila's shared background of trauma, matched intelligence, and similar personalities means they make sense. They shared a bond that was only further strengthened during their years of isolation. For 7 years they only had each other to rely on. This inevitably created an intimacy and relationship that couldn’t be compared to what they had had with anyone else. Outweighing what they did to Diego when you consider all context. Lila and Five ended up being human and vulnerable with each other on a level they hadn’t been with anyone else. Ultimately Lila’s refusal to deny her feelings for Five, her relief when he returned, him comforting her as she sent her family away and then finally them dying hand-in-hand, showed that they were endgame.

[oleander-nin]

Hi can I please yandere Leo from Rise who’s practicing his odachi portal skills only to see portal himself to his number one fan from another universe who enjoys watching Rottmnt

But what if Leo starts getting jealous when reader starts watching other tmnt shows from 2012 to 2003 versions and he caughts reader fawning over them👀

I’m fine with romantic or platonic or mix between both (gotta love slow burns ~)

If you wanna go dark you can do , I’m a big fan of your work (if you ever write a book make sure to tell us I love to buy it )

hope your doing ok ^-^

Number One(Yandere ROTTMNT Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: Hi! Sorry for the wait, this one really stumped me(I struggled getting the transitions right and making it seem feasible.) It was kinda hard to make this one Yan, but I hope I delivered. I tried to make it clear this is an older Leo, but don't know how well I achieved that. In any case, this is set a couple years after the movie. Also uh, I wrote this in third person. Sorry. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Kidnapping, yandere themes

Words: 1767

Summary: If you're going to claim you're his number one fan, you should actually be his number one fan.

Leo was so confident in this portal. The ninpō felt like it was flowing through his veins, an energy that was part of him instead of one he was just borrowing. He was so confident in this portal that he didn’t even hesitate before falling through, fully expecting his brothers to be on the other side. He was so confident in this portal that he didn’t even notice the color of his portal wasn’t it’s normal blue, or the weird zapping pulling at his skin as he crossed through. He was so confident in this portal that he didn’t even realize his mistake until he heard the scream.

A room he didn’t recognize surrounded him, somewhere that was very much not Hueso’s restaurant. The couch and the setup took him back, the carpet under his feet making him itch slightly. He stands frozen, his eyes locked with someone of similar age across from him, their eyes wide and mouth agape. He briefly registered the TV playing in the background, some brightly colored cartoon. It seemed like something he and his brothers would enjoy. Leo falters, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly done. Something he hated to admit happened. The face of the human, scared and stiff, made him worried. He briefly tries to summon his ninpō, taking a reflexive step back as he feels the power course through him then die back out.

“Leo?” The stranger stammers out, causing Leo to double take. This person who he was certain he’d never seen before(although, admittedly, he didn’t always remember a face) knew his name. A human that wasn’t April knew his name. Leo tries to call upon his ninpō in an attempt to leave again, only to be met with nothing.

Leo lifts his swords, pointing it in their general direction. He didn’t think they were much of a threat, their body pressed against the wall of the room like a force was keeping them there. He briefly noticed their lack of true fear, their face more shocked than scared. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“How do you know my name?” Leo demands, his voice loud and more upset-sounding than he intended. He didn’t want to seem bothered, especially in front of an unknown entity. Were they with the foot? Big Mama?

They wordlessly point towards their television, his gaze reluctantly tearing from them towards the show they had playing. He keeps his stance defensive and his swords pointed at them as he truly takes what’s on the screen into account. It was him and his brothers, taped together in that big ball Raph insisted would make them bond. He watches for a moment, mesmerized. He remembers that day, the video playing lining up perfectly with what happened in his head. It scared him, almost. He turns back to the stranger, puffing up slightly to look bigger and more confident.

“Where did you get the video?” He demands. The way it was filmed made it seem like there were cameras everywhere. He knew Donnie recorded everything, but would he really go so far as to spread around the footage? To take multiple angle shots and film each brother individually? Leo didn’t want to believe it, but he really wouldn’t put it past the softshell.

“Netflix?” They say weakly, their head shrinking back between their shoulders. Leo considers this, frowning. He doesn’t lower his weapons in any capacity, but he doesn’t keep as close an eye on them. He watches the screen for a bit, taking in the bright colors of his home and his brothers faces, watching their adventures of the past. It was jarring to see the things they’ve done from the outside, their faces so much younger looking than he remembered.

He looks back at the stranger, taking a deep breath. Maybe they were lying, yes, but this was all he had to go off. Maybe he could get home soon, and let Donnie work his brain around this. There was no reason for Leo to worry. “Where am I?”

The stranger blubbers out something quickly, an address he’s saving in the back of his mind for later. Leo looks around the room more thoroughly, quietly scanning for the telltale signs of cameras or audio devices. If this was some experiment, he did not want to be part of it.

“So,” Leo starts, gesturing at them with the sword. “If I were to believe you, which I don’t, why are you even watching this? Doesn’t it bug you that you’re basically spying on me?”

The stranger huffs slightly. Their back was still pressed against the wall in caution of his sharp katana, but their demeanor had definitely relaxed. “It’s a kids show, man. I watch it to relax. Like how you watch Lou Jitsu stuff.”

Leo stares at them, not liking at all how they’re equating something in his life they shouldn’t even know about to what they’re doing, but he understands the example. He lowers his swords slightly, a bit less apprehensive. Depending on how long it would take to get himself home, he probably shouldn’t threaten the person who’s home he fell in in case he needs to stay.

“How’d you even get here?” They ask, causing Leo to realize he wasn’t even sure how to answer. He had no idea how he ended up here, no explanation other than ‘ancient magic goes haywire once more’.

To save face, Leo just shrugs. He didn’t see a point in explaining, especially because he wasn’t sure how much they actually knew at this point. If they were bad(which he was doubting more and more by the second), he really didn’t want to explain his portals in any sense to them. “Just happened.”

They stare at him for a moment before dropping it, pursing their lips. A long silence follows with their gaze fleeing to everywhere but Leo. He could tell they were trying hard not to stare despite him not returning the same courtesy.

“Do you want something to drink?” They finally ask, the silence broken once more. Leo mulls it over, sheathing his swords. Might as well get comfortable until he figured out how to get back to his world, or his brothers found him.

“What do you have?”

The stranger leads him into the kitchen, their nervous ramblings about the mess in their apartment(he’s seen worse), the lack of options(he’s had less), and the odd way they met(He’s experienced weirder) made him feel much more at ease. By the time he’s seated across from them at their small table with a glass of orange juice in his hand, he’s learned a lot about them. Or, he could at least infer most about their life. Enough to make the bridge between their knowledge of him seem a bit more fair.

“So,” Leo prompts, tapping at the edge of the glass in his hand. Their head pops up at his voice, attention fully on him. It made him feel important, like he was someone admired. I mean, he was, it just wasn’t very often anyone but Casey Jr. did. “What exactly is the show I’m from here?”

Their eyes light up at the question, looking like a small kid who was finally given the chance to show off what they knew. They go into an enthusiastic rhapsody about everything they knew, from the producers, to the start of the show, to the end. They talked endless praise of him and his brothers, seeming to fit in a compliment in every sentence. They even let slip that he was their favorite, the one they watched the most. Leo preens at that, his plastron puffing out in pride. He was their favorite. He had an adoring fan. Maybe this world wasn’t so bad. He lets them continue to ramble on with their take of his word, paying attention whenever they mention his or his brothers skills. While it was still worrisome that this no-longer-complete-stranger knew so much about him and his family, he couldn’t help but feel a bit flattered. He wasn’t sure if it was his ego talking or just the opportunity to finally speak with another human, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave as fast anymore. This was nice. Normal even, or as normal as he can get. He was treated like a celebrity, like someone important. If he could, he’d get drunk off this feeling.

His attention perks up again when his new companion starts to mention others. Personalities that were not matching up with his brothers. Leo purses his lips, pausing them mid-rave about a ‘TMNT 2012’.

“Back up, what do you mean there’s more?” Leo asks, furrowing the edges of his mask as the muscles of his eyebrows crease together.

They laugh nervously, mumbling apologies for, “getting ahead of myself.” Leo waves it off, still waiting for them to expand on what they were saying. Instead of speaking, they turn to their phone and type something in, showing their screen to him a moment later. Four turtle faces stared back at him, each with the same color-coded masks as he and his brothers, but looking incredibly different. Leo crinkles his face, unhappy. “And these are?” 

“You! And your brothers. From a different reality. Or dimension. I’m not all that sure,” They chirp, starting to go into another ramble. Leo hides his grimace, not liking how enthusiastic you were about the similar but very much not the same group of mutant turtles. Their eyes lit up just as much when talking about this Leo, causing his earlier pride to muddle into a hot jealousy. Leo could feel his ninpō spark up under his skin once more, whatever stump he was in being over. Leo’s eyes light up slightly, a smile coming more easily to his face.

“Hey,” He says, interrupting their rambles. Their eyes darted to his again instead of looking all around like they did when they were talking. It was nice to have the attention back, attention he wasn’t so sure he was ready to give up so easily. “Want to come back to my world?”

The way their eyes lit up made Leo know this would be easy, his skin snapping with the familiar buzz of his magic, stronger and more familiar than ever before. He takes their hand and leads them closer, falling backwards into a portal he knew was heading back home.

They didn’t have to know they weren’t coming back. After all, he was their favorite. They’d learn to forgive him, he was sure of it.

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr @ssak-i @rottmntsimp

[cowboymcflurry]

To Be Alone With You | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After you had spent an entire rainy Saturday afternoon playing video games on your new Nintendo with your best friend Eddie, he wants to head back home to spend some time practicing the guitar, when the rain turns into a violent storm. He agrees to stay a little while longer when a power outage suddenly plunges the room into darkness…

word count: 1,7k words

includes: first kiss, fluff, making out, friends to lovers, no description of reader, no use of y/n, Eddie is a shy cutie, reader is oblivious, reader’s gender is not mentioned, Eddie gets a boner whoopsie

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are the worst person to play Gyromite with, Munson!” you laughed.

“It’s not my fault you can’t communicate!”

“I can’t communicate?” you gasped dramatically. “At least I don’t confuse the buttons - there are TWO!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, laughing out loud while nudging you with his elbow.

“Anyways, I gotta get going. I have to practice some more for our show next week. You’re coming right?” he asked.

“Of course I’m coming.” you laughed. “How could I miss that?”

“Good. If I don’t see you there holding up a sign saying ‘Eddie, I want to bear your children’ don’t even bother coming, okay?”

You broke out laughing. “Alright.”

Eddie would say these things sometimes, things that sounded flirty but you knew he didn’t mean them. It was simply his sense of humor.

“Are you guys like going out?” Robin had asked a couple of weeks ago, after school. Your face had immediately gotten hot and red.

“Uh, no, we’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.” you’d said, while simultaneously imagining what it would be like if you weren’t just ‘good friends’. What it would feel like if he picked you up in his van, and you would go see a movie or get a pizza or do whatever it was that other people your age did, going on dates and stuff. But you knew that Eddie didn’t think of you that way. And you hoped he didn’t know that you in turn did feel about him that way.

Ever since he’d borrowed a piece of paper and a pen from you in Mrs. Marshall’s class you had been under the spell of his dark intoxicating eyes. Then you had run into each other at a concert in Indianapolis, making him realize that you were one of ‘his kind’ as he’d put it. He’d quickly ‘adopted’ you, inviting you to join the Hellfire Club, where you met Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Gareth and Jeff. You never really saw him talking to any girls at school but you knew that a bunch of them had a secret crush on him, whispering about what a great head of hair he had.

Suddenly you heard the rumble of thunder and when you looked out of the window you saw lightning striking in the distance. The storm had gotten worse, the rain violently pounding against your window.

“You sure you don’t want to stay until the storm is over?” you asked, worriedly looking outside. Eddie pulled a goofy grimace.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get home safe. But it’s cute, that you’re worried about me,” he said, winking at you when a loud crash of thunder made him flinch. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ll wait until it’s over.”

You sat down on your bed, watching the raindrops dripping down your window, when Eddie joined you, sitting at the other end of the bed. Immediately you felt your heart beating faster and when you looked at him, you saw his mouth open, as if he was about to say something, when a lightning bolt illuminated your room for a second, immediately followed by another crash of thunder.

There was a clicking sound and suddenly Eddie and you sat in pitch-black darkness.

“Shit.” you hissed, feeling the hair on your neck stand up.

You heard him rummage through his pockets, when there was another clicking sound, only this time coming from his lighter.

“You have candles or something?” he asked, the flame illuminating his face.

“Uh… Yeah, sure…” you said, watching the flickering light dance off his face for a second too long.

“What?”

“Nothing.” you quickly said, before getting up and stumbling to your desk, on which you’d placed a small candle a couple of months ago. It smelled of fresh laundry and relaxed your busy mind when you were studying for school late into the night. Picking it up you handed it to Eddie, who lit it and then placed it on the window sill right next to you.

“So romantic.” you joked, hoping it would come across the same way it did when Eddie said things like that. But he didn’t laugh. Instead, you saw him looking at the flame, his lips pulling into something that you could best describe as a sad smile.

“Yeah, right?”

“What’s wrong?” you whispered, trying to get him to look at you.

“I don’t know… It’s just…” he slowly began, rubbing his neck.

“What?”

He paused for a moment until he finally met your gaze. His lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something only to press them together again. Slowly you reached out for his hand that was loosely placed on his knee, to which he flinched.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” you began, but then you felt him clasping your hand with both of his. You felt his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand, giving you goosebumps which you hoped he didn’t see in the candle-lit room. You’ve never touched his skin before, never deliberately. It was always an accidental brush, that made your face turn hot. But now he held your hand in both of his.

His gaze shot up to your eyes, his thumb continuously stroking the back of your hand.

“I always thought you’d figure it out at some point,” he said softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “But you never did.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“Figure out what?” you whispered.

Another crash of thunder made both of you flinch. After the rumble slowly settled, Eddie bent down over your bed, rummaging through his backpack.

“Here,” he said, placing his headphones on your ears, before he opened his Walkman, turning over the cassette that had been inside and hitting play.

Some keyboard. A guitar riff.

“Lie down,” he whispered, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Come on, lie down,” he repeated, before blowing out the candle and lying down on your bed, motioning for you to do the same. Reluctantly you did as you were told, lying down next to your best friend you were secretly in love with, while there was a storm raging outside and rain pounding against your window.

You turned your head to the side and caught Eddie watching you listening to the song he had put on, when you realized that he was still holding your hand.

To be something, to be with you Don’t say that you’ll never know

He mouthed the words along, making the back of your head tingle.

Half the time it could seem funny The other half is just too sad This west bound moon’s They rise and fall Lost you and I want you today

Slowly he brought up his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, before he gulped and anxiously looked from one of your eyes to the other.

Love to love to love you

You felt your stomach doing a flip. Too many thoughts were racing through your head, but when Eddie propped himself up on his elbows, his face hovering above yours, your mind went blank.

His gaze fell from your lips back to your eyes, his expression nervous, as if he was waiting for some sign, for your permission. Without wasting another second you pulled him down to your face by his collar, planting a short and soft kiss on his lips. When you opened your eyes, you loosened your grip, seeing the surprise in his eyes. For a second you thought you misread things when his lips pulled into a smile.

Slowly he bent down, lifting your chin with both his thumb and his index finger to his mouth. Your noses brushed against each other when he carefully kissed your upper lip, before turning to the lower. Softly you parted his lips with yours, a muffled moan escaping his mouth. Carefully you slid one of your hands up his neck into his hair, while the other was still grasping his collar. You never wanted to let him go and you didn’t know if you ever could. Your kisses slowly grew more passionate, more urgent, as the tip of his tongue slowly found its way to yours, gently brushing it, while his thumb was firmly running along your jawline.

Another crash of thunder made both of you flinch, causing you to break apart from each other, both of you gasping for air.

Eddie’s dark eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, looking both intoxicated and hungry, like an animal that has been starving and finally had gotten to eat. You probably had the same look on your face.

You took off his headphones, slowly propping yourself up on your knees, being less than an inch away from his face. You felt his hand cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your lips before pulling you in another passionate kiss. Eddie’s chest pressed against yours and as you felt something hard brush against your thigh another moan escaped his mouth, making him gasp for air and immediately pull away from you.

Red-faced he cleared his throat, trying to avoid your intoxicated gaze. You took a deep breath and looked out the window, realizing that the thunderstorm had moved on. Dizzily you fell back on your back, faintly hearing the beginning of the next song of Eddie’s mixtape playing while staring up at your ceiling.

When you closed your eyes you felt Eddie lying back down beside you.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered. Your eyes fluttered back open and when you turned to look at him you now found him to be the one looking up at the ceiling.

“I have been for some time now.” he said softly, before clearing his throat, “And I didn’t want to tell you because I was scared it might mess up our friendship.”

You were silent for a few seconds, taking in what he’d just said.

“I’m in love with you too, Eddie.”

His face abruptly turned towards you. Softly, you let your fingers trace his features, his eyebrows, his nose, and his cupid's bow before carefully tracing the curve of his jawline.

“I’m madly in love with you,” you whispered, to which his lips pulled into a wide smile, pulling you closer to him. Your noses brushed against each other, as you looked into each other’s eyes, softly planting kisses on each other’s faces, while the rain continued to pound against your window and the thunder rumbled further in the distance…

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[sarahreesbrennan]

Quick Evil Note

To all my wicked darlings, I have now received rather a lot of messages asking me about the influences of Long Live Evil. And I wish to get messages about LLE and truly appreciate the ones I do get! And I wish to answer them. But answers about influences are tricky.

The book has been out in the US for a little over two weeks, and it’s going so well so far, I couldn’t be more delighted and appreciative about its reception.

But also I’ve been informed (not asked) that two of my characters are obviously somehow both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy of Harry Potter, and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation. (Very puzzling as I don’t think these pairings - and one isn’t a pair - have much in common with each other or with mine. Vague hostility against a vaguely academic backdrop for a bit? For the record… in the book everyone is an adult and I don’t even have any academic backdrops to be vaguely hostile in front of…) This hasn’t happened to me in a long time, because I haven’t had an original novel out in a long time due to illness, and it is upsetting to always be discussed differently than writers who didn’t openly link their real names to their fan identity.

I have very different feelings and new appreciation for fandom than I once had. It’s been amazing to see and meet people who have stuck with me for decades. People are generally way more open and affectionate to and within fandom than they once were. Love matters to me a good deal more than hate. But getting death threats in your early 20s for excitedly telling your Internet friends you were going to publish a book does mark the psyche, and so does having your characters dismissed as other people’s characters.

And we can say there is nothing wrong with fanfiction or writing fanfiction and there isn’t! Fanfiction is great and can be genius. Terry Pratchett wrote Jane Austen fanfiction, and didn’t (and shouldn’t) have people saying Captain Wentworth = Captain Vimes. Still, when a TV show is discussed as ‘like fanfiction’ or when Diana Gabaldon said she didn’t like fanfiction and many said ‘YOU write fanfiction’ it isn’t intended in any kind spirit, even when it’s fannish folk saying it. And it’s just generally odd to have everyone call your apple a tomato, and has had professional consequences for me in the past.

However! All the asks I’ve received have been very kind, and I do want to answer them. I do want to talk about my influences because they are manifold and because I actually think it’s important to always talk about influences. I don’t believe stories exist in isolation - we tell tales in a rich tradition, and also a story doesn’t come alive to me all the way until it’s heard or read.

Long Live Evil is a love letter to fandom: it’s chock full of references to many many stories I’ve loved, to fairytales, myths and legend and Internet memes and epic fantasy and meta. My acknowledgements are endless partly for this reason. I do owe a great debt to many portal fantasies and archetypes and musicals and jokes about genre and plays through the ages, though I do think of my characters as themselves and nobody else.

I was frankly tempted to go ‘Yes I stole EVERYTHING! Bwhahaha!’ But while I am thoroughly enjoying and finding great freedom in my villain era, I do want to talk sincerely to you all as well, especially when asked sincerely interested questions.

But I’m a little scared to do so and have people say ‘AHA! Now we know what it’s fanfiction of’ (it’s happened before) or ignore me and go ‘we know the truth!’ (it’s happened before) and to feel like I’ve injured my book. Long Live Evil means more to me than any other and I really want to get talking about it right, and make sure it has the best reception I can give it.

So. Questions on all Evil topics very very welcome but answers to influence questions may come slowly. Bear with me. I am working on this!

[coffeegnomee]

Ok just caught up and like. What the fuck man. 

I literally all can do is just sit here and hope and pray that the old members stick it out and help the new members understand what lifesteal is actually about.

Because lifesteal has the reputation of being the lying and betraying and killing people server. 

But it is just Not That. Like obviously those things have happened on the server, fine. 

But lifesteal is far far far more about teammates. Believing that they will have your back. Working together to do cool shit. Trusting each other. 

It’s about commitment and honor and respect and working together on an interesting goal. 

It’s about not screwing over your teammates for a cheap moment that ruins the rest of your relationship on the server. (Mapicc showed this perfectly this week too! He ended the experiments because he’d rather have a teammate than execute a crazy emotional manipulation arc on Zam and really push him over the edge.) 

They sacrifice for each other. They protect each other. They pick each other up when they get killed by their enemies. They encourage them when they’re down. Help them be strong against their fears. Get each other gear and hearts and make sure they’re safe. Spend hours on each other’s arc together in vc all night. 

They lie to OTHERS for their team. They protect the wormhole for months even when they don’t want to or believe in it at all.

They do tiny little things that they know the other person will like just so they know they love them and appreciate them being on the team. They say it too, to each other’s faces. 

It’s about loving each other bro. There’s a massive fucking reason why there’s so much shipping fanart man. They fucking love each other platonically so damn much and so damn perfectly that you can make it romantic and it’s like not even like all that weird.

It makes me so fucking mad that you could boil down this beautiful server into lying and killing and go on it and be like, I heard princezam betrays every team he’s on obviously we should betray everyone and be on the lookout for every single person being a betrayer. 

Zam fucking lost his mind over betraying team awesome and eclipse. He AGONIZED for MONTHS before pulling the trigger for eclipse and he didn’t betray team awesome until after their massive arc together that he was completely loyal to, finished it out as a team, and only when they looked like they weren’t going to give up their unfair advantage did he seek to leave them. And he fought them and left.

The fucking respect he has for a team is insane.

And same goes for Bacon and Mapicc. 

as for others:

Ro only betrays if he gets a better offer (from mapicc) 

Leo betrays when it’s interesting for the story to have a juggernaut.

Spoke betrays only when he has his own bigger plan to execute that will create something interesting for the whole server to encounter. 

Clown only betrays when you go against his morals of creating content by chaos. 

I can’t even think of any notable betrayals from before s5. Most of the server does not betray ever. Most of the server never lies. 

They only lie and betray when it’s for the benefit of the content. 

And that’s what fucking makes me so upset about this. Bacon is doing this arc for the BETTERMENT of the server. He literally says he’s doing it to make other people’s lives on the sever more interesting. It ain’t even about him. He’s not even making a video about this. He just likes to do cool shit on the server because it’s fun to craft an overarching story for everyone to play into.

It’s never been about hearts man. 

The most valuable resource on the server is content. 

And Bacon understands this. In a way that quite possibly could make him a worldender like spoke and clown. He’s really getting into the role of strategizing fun things for the server to do for no other reason than someone has to do it and that it’s good for the server. 

But the new members just do not understand what “for content” means. They just kill randomly. They don’t defend each other. They don’t tell the other teammate to give the heart back bc it’s been proven enough that they’re innocent. They’re constantly suspicious and will only meet if there are no enemies online. 

It’s not about the hearts man. 

It’s about the team.

[applesontheground]

I have a big, beautiful, fat fucking request for you. Let me get, some Danny Johnson, him totally, ferally obsessed with the reader. He is down BAD for her. He has so many cravings, he doesn't know where to *start* when he finally breaks into her place. He wants to do it all and has a knife, rope, duct tape and nothing but time since your vacation just started and no one is expecting to see you for DAYS. All he knows is he wants to fuck you and see you cry and bleed, ruin you for anyone else. <3

last night never happened 📞

SO, THIS IS GOING TO BE THE FIRST DIVE INTO DANNY, HUH?

As someone who's coming out of one hell of a break, i'm very excited to find my writer's muscle again, and what better way than to finally get started on some of my requests? :D

This is also a part of celebrating @bisexual-horror-fan's birthday today! I told Bex I wanted to do something special for this, and give a good reminder I sure don't forget about any ideas that get thrown at me... even the ones that have sat in the inbox for far too long.

Hope you like it, Bex. Happy birthday!! ❤

NSFW | Word Count: 3,138 | Danny Johnson x Female Reader contains MAJOR DUBCON THEMES, stalking/obsession, masturbation, B&E, sadomaso, knifeplay/v light bloodplay, titfucking, BDSM, gagging, fingering, orgasm denial 🎼: x, x

“How do we know the stories that come from that beat are always going to center around this part of town?”

“Well,” A pause, a knowing pause that was tired of answering the question, “How do we know it isn’t? This is downtown, [Y/N].”

Then came a small murmur from the group. You were silent, but you didn’t lower your head. It was a standard meeting with the head photographer, and you were merely sitting in. More of an intern than any sort of employee, it was almost mindless to speak up like you did. You appeared not to understand that it was all supposed to deter you from being so steady on your pedestal, of once-believed expertise that you were ahead of some nonexistent curve in reasoning. Your unwavering blink, a denial to be crushed despite the odds falling against your face, was tantalizing.

It made the muscles in his hands flex, white knuckling as he folded his hands and craned his neck to force his eyes on the space in front of him. You had no right to know just what those hands wanted to do, no one besides him did – at least, while he was forced to exist so identifiable in public, surrounded by others.

Someone could gut that pretty little body like a fish and she still wouldn’t find the need to run from the knife. That idea raced to the forefront of his head, a realization that made him need to shift uncomfortably, pretend his nose itched to explain to the world why a jolt of energy had just shot down his leg, made him almost leap at some thought up opportunity.

There was a scheduled break in the work – for all of the team, including you – after that session. A full week to catch up on the work at hand, take the time to do what mattered if you were already there. Although the weather was great for travel, for visiting friends, you had been idly chatting about it after the meeting, mentioning there were no plans outside of “decompressing”.

It was perfect, and he nearly moved in closer to get a look at you, mere steps away from where he had been sitting. He couldn’t meet your eyes just yet. It all came from deep in his chest, something that drummed sweat in his hands and made him promptly leave the meeting room without another look around.

Some time that evening, remembering the curve of your jaw when you would turn to look at the clock on the wall and melting into the hot sweat against his hand that stroked to the rhythm that he’d believe resembled a pulse under his fingers, Danny decided you were going to be his next project. He had been sliding ideas of others that he saw along with you day in and day out, and you were a babe, sure… but this oblivion you showed, a deer with no thought behind the eyes in the face of an oncoming car. It made him want to get under that skin.

When he had seen you before this decision, it was all casualties: picking up pencils that slipped off your desk, null glances when you passed each other in the hall. He would then observe from afar, over the edges of a novel he was reading or a laptop screen, acting like he was far more preoccupied with his work and you none the wiser. He could care less about editing photos he took, the program making his computer grow hot as he would instead shift his stare to you, fixing flyers on a corkboard or chatting with another body.

The way your hair framed your face and made you appear so friendly, mundane being too stale and homely being too chaste. You had a quirk in your lips, a scoff to your giggles; that all made you seem a little more than something plain.

Finally, there came the photographs. You walking by the building, mostly outdoors settings where he could perch somewhere perfect, capture your likeness without any sort of hints or the confines of indoors closing off noises, the way he had to sometimes move alongside you. When people approached, there was always a bird in the trees, something else happening to make Danny look unsuspecting. No one noticed anything close enough to see you in the background each time he was out on field work.

It was an easy plan to put together, because he figured he’d just need the basics: a hunter’s knife, curved and ridged in little spots for the variety and the flare. Then, a basic nylon rope, something itchy and uncomfortable to add to every reaction that he was seeking, knowing he could tear from you. He had gotten it on sale.

The idea to save his zipties, wanting to use them but recognizing there should be other times, only made a smile quirk on his lips. It would be the perfect plan for another visit, and that possibility would make him suck in a breath. He took the duct tape instead. That’d be far more fun than his other supplies he had used just as soon as a month prior.

The entering itself was as simple as he had imagined it would be. He had watched you come home from an evening’s grocery shopping, ready to hide from the world for this long week. He had waited until the streetlights on your corner turned on, a sign sundown was well underway, before standing from the bench he had been lounging on. One eye had been kept on some photographer’s notes he had been working on – he had to actually get some work done, form that alibi nice and early – and one on your front door, your windows as you passed through like a sweet visage only for him. He slipped the cloak on, the mask in hand as he walked across the street, found a bush outside your home, and got into position.

The first star in the sky rearing its luminous face was what got him to stand again, slipping through an unlocked garage door on the side of your home. You were so trusting of anyone who could find their way through the cracks of your personal life, your abode that maybe had enough locks to keep guys like him out…but unutilized.

He’d be sure to hold that faith up to the light for you. How real was it, [Y/N]? You’d really let anyone have a hold of your security, seeing that your coworkers treat it so poorly, laugh at you?

You barely yelled, more so yelped in shock before slipping in your socked feet around the kitchen when he let himself inside. He had considered making it more explosive, but sliding from a curtain and imposing with a feverish desire to feel that exposed skin he was seeing was far more interesting.

Moving before thought only made the soles of his shoes feel heavy on the floor, solid in his own movement.

“Where are you going, baby cakes?” he asked, laughing when your jaw dropped open. Again, it made a crick in his muscles tense, shiver as he willed self-control that was merely buying time.

He couldn’t go ballistic, not yet. Maybe not even during this visit.

He was heaving breaths, silent laughter in his chest and bubbling along the brook of desperate gasps for air. You tried to push your body away, the skin of your thighs and back squeaking painstakingly against linoleum. With a lunge that sent him on his hands and knees, the assailant merely prowled after you, eye contact much easier now from behind the slim shape of the mask.

He took his time; it wasn’t like you could make your way to the door in any way that would cut ice. Those eyes of yours, confused but still meeting the mask’s own in some unwavering attempt to comprehend what was happening. It only made the connection of pressing flush into your body more rewarding.

The first audible sound was an ecstatic giggle from his throat, one that could blow the whole lid off his entrance and his identity should you be able to recall what “Jed Olsen” from work sounded like, remember anything in the brief interactions you two shared…

You wouldn’t, and he knew that when you choked out, not sure what to even ask first, “Who- What are you doing!?”

He nodded quaintly down at you. “Something I should’ve done a long, long time ago.”

On your back, you really could've found the leverage to wiggle him off. Still, when the steady throb protruding from a pair of dark jeans and curtained with the robe touched your chest, it disarmed you.

It only got worse for your composure as his hand trailed between your breasts, and he then realized a knife wasn't ready for that spot yet. You jerked your hips against his own slightly, a meek warning with no bite that was met with his gloved hands touching them next, and you felt the way his palms were shaking. The shudder from your abdomen was involuntary.

Danny wasn't untrained, just at the hilt.

You shuddered, a hard swallow fighting gravity and the threat of that hunter’s knife now being grabbed from the floor, touching your bare thigh in an idle drag. It was in sync with a gentle motion he was making with his hips. One could assume it was just him trying to keep balance, but you saw his free hand go to his belt and start undoing it, and you sucked in a breath again. Breathing was all you could really bring yourself to do.

“Not gonna stop me?” He asked with a huff, opening his hands with the blade rolling against his palm idly. You murmured something intelligible, bracing the floor as his thighs squeezed the outside of your hips. He froze, a second of breath before grabbing you by your shirt collar, the knife sawing into the hem of your collar and making you jerk back. Still, you didn't scream as he tore through it, and let its messy remains fall behind you, a weird bump in the smooth floor that only gave you a little more discomfort.

"Awe, I appreciate you keeping your voice down." He cooed, idly pulling his pants zipper down and freeing himself. His cock fit between your tits, a slow motion that went up the middle portion between your stomach and your chest, a slow slide up your sternum, and then back down in an experimental pull. You didn't look down on the first thrust, but the second time warm metal brushed your face. A Jacob's Ladder twitched slightly at getting some attention.

The noise you let out, appalled by your own enjoyment, got him to falter again. You felt his own in the way he had to roll his shoulders. You turned your head, looking at the closest thing to you on the kitchen floor and only seeing the stretch of tile. The cool sensation was appreciated against your face, if nothing else.

“Come on, [Y/N].” The weight of your name, your actual name, made your throat tighten, meeting eyes with him in a snap of your head. This couldn’t be a stranger, a sure tone as he insisted with another trace of your searing thigh with a nitrile roll of texture up your skin, touching the marks of the knife and making you grit your teeth from behind shaking lips.

“You could at least try.”

He had to start pointing his energy into something that wasn't going to leave you in a pool of blood on the floor, take the urge back into sliding his dick in between your breasts and look down at it rather than you. He wondered if you could tell where his eyes were, and from where you saw it between the fight to keep from actually getting pleasure from this, he just looked focused on either you or what he was doing to you.

Still, you couldn't deny the weight of the assailant against your stomach, the way he pinned your legs together with his own in something far, far from chaste. You could do more, your unbound arms and hands could push him. Your free legs could come up, push a knee into his stomach, right in that cock that was helping itself to your bare skin. Still, he let a choked noise slip as his pace went a little quicker, and he then snapped the mask to face you more clearly, show he was looking up at your face.

"Hey, be a sweetheart for me." He asked, one hand on his own thigh and the other still holding the knife, the flat side of the blade tapping your shoulder and making you flinch slightly. "I have a proposal to make this easier for both of us. You can either hold your tits together for me, or I'm going to go ahead and tie them up."

You furrowed your brow, and he then warned you, "Five seconds." Quickly, and to your own disgust, your hands came up to cover your collarbone, arms and elbows squeezing together to give him what he wanted. The first slide between them was a little rough, skin catching before pre-cum from a few more thrusts made it easier.

He was far too worked up already, and more so than you. It only made the recognition that he was busting and able to leave before you even recognized what had happened a goal he was desperate for. The weeks of watching you from afar, getting to feel that jaw and those eyes on him was almost too much.

"Jesus," It wasn't reverent, it wasn't grateful. The first intelligible word out of your mouth was a plea, and it only made Danny stop thinking and falter as cum started to spurt out in the middle point between your breasts, deep between the valley. Bending almost perpendicular to you, the mask was inches away from your face, and you let out a gentle moan to the sensation.

One of your hands had his cum on the finger, and it was an insane move on your part, but what better way to try to end this than to scare him? You lifted a finger to your lips, and he saw your tongue lick up its length, his labored breathing stilled and the knife scratched tiled floor as he fumbled with it.

He had to shake out his hands to keep from letting them snug around your neck, scoffing under his breath to keep from snarling like an animal. He reached for the tape that he had placed on the counter in his setup, a loss of pressure on your body but your head was spinning to fast to take advantage of that, heaving breaths and trying not to make more noise as he ripped a strip off.

“Oh. Do you think you’re good enough to taste me?” He pressed the cool tape to your mouth, eliciting a shocked noise that you had been holding back until now. He leaned in, tilting his head and the chin of the mask brushing yours in a callous scratch of plastic. He turned attention to your wrists, taking them off your chest and pulling them down to sit on your still clothed abdomen. The rope had been fastened to his belt, weighing down off his hip from him unbuckling it. He unraveled it, still shivering from the exertion as he got them around your wrists.

“When do you think you’ll get that chance again. Huh, slut?” You just gawked, lips pushing against the tape, unable to answer and unable to consider what the fuck he meant by that. He played around with the idea of getting to see you again, “Next week? Next month, maybe?”

The rubber nitrile of his glove framed one side of your face as he then spoke in a more severe voice again, “Because I’m not done with you, [Y/N]. Not tonight.” He laughed when you let out a noise, trying to sound horrified. It became real as he finally slipped under your waistband, the cozy shorts and underwear barely acknowledged by his hand as he found your entrance in no time.

“Think you can wait?” He asked, hearing a more confident, more aroused noise from you from behind the tape as you rolled your head. He slid his middle in, the pressure along with all the fiddling he had been doing to stop himself from the choking, the tearing, only got his limp dick twitching slightly and another one going in with it after a few prods.

He worked until that shudder from your lower body came again, and you were in an even string of moaning under him, the mask all you saw in shy glimpses as you had to quickly forget this situation and let the pleasure take you down. When you clenched hard around his hand, he then pulled out, and the tears were quick to form in your eyes as you put on a pathetic display, glaring at him as your bound hands slapped him in the chest.

"I think I can wait." He giggled, like he was in trouble with you as he yanked the rope from your wrists, gathering it up as he stood again. You used the leverage to touch your face, and he suddenly knelt down.

"Don't cry, baby." He reminded you, a gentle tap on your face as he then paused to cup your cheek, rub the remnants of your slick against your face, "I'll be back for you."

He tore the duct tape off, a glance down to make sure the cum on your chest was dried and not going to be enjoyed in a way that mattered again before doing it. The wail was the first and only noise that had gone above confused moans and murmurs, and it was more involuntary from the quick motion, the pain of an industrial tool used on such gentle skin.

You caught a look at yourself in the reflection of the knife as he quickly took it from the floor and stood a final time. There was blood on your face, too, and looking down you saw he had done more than just dance the blade of his knife across your inner thighs.

He was already rushing out again, closing the door behind him in an insanely casual move, so you took the moment of utter shock and still on the floor of your own house to pull your leg into better view.

[How did he know my name starts with a D? / Why did he carve a very clear, concise letter "D" amongst the other marks?" ]

[ringsreforged]

Natalie's *deep* Haladriel thoughts - BEWARE

Pau - When you read this later, let me know if you want me to move it to my personal account, yeah? If it even still exists...

I’m not really sure what this post is going to end up being. A defence of the show and the separation? In part! A critique of the show based off leak spoilers and my own gut feeling? For sure! A desperate ramble in an attempt to get my head in order? Absolutely!

I will say before we dive in that I’m absolutely a Haladriel shipper, but the way I ship isn’t always in line with fandom. I ship what I see as part of the narrative because it’s the narrative, and everything else is a bonus. I make this distinction because I think this is why I’m so okay with a lack of scenes when some others are not, and I don’t want to come across preachy. I don't think I'm in any way superior for this by the way. In fact, I wish I could be more *normal*!!!!

If you came to this show for Haladriel alone, and simply want to see them share scenes week to week – that’s your prerogative. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t feel that way. What I might try to say is that I don’t think that makes the shows bad or suggests that the writers have baited with this relationship. I think that’s ultimately what I find frustrating…

But anyway, let’s get into whatever this is. A reflection on expectations, a five-season arc, and those STUPID spoiler leaks…

AND THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. STAY AWAY. HISS.

Alright, so this post is mostly brought to you by a sinking feeling I have that the leak spoilers are real. Because everything in that episode 7 promo matches up.

STOP READING if you don’t want to know the spoilers. And honestly? STOP READING IF YOU THINK YOU WANT TO KNOW because living with this knowledge has truly made this season less enjoyable for me (credit to it, then, because I still think it’s incredible). IF I’M MAKING YOU PANIC, STILL STOP READING because there very much is a world where these spoilers aren’t that bad in context…but I prefer to keep my expectations low…

Have you gone???

HAVE YOU GONE?????

SPOILER TALK

Okay.

So, the leak spoilers say that there is no kiss between Sauron and Galadriel (which, honestly, I have no great issue with – more to come on that later). Instead, the kiss is ELROND AND GALADRIEL, and I absolutely do take issue with this.

I can only hope and PRAY that it works in context, but I can’t get my head around it. And yet, the promo…it’s all falling into place. Elrond will be sent to discuss terms with the orcs before the battle. He’ll see Galadriel in chains, and he’ll ask for a moment to say goodbye. Adar will allow it because he’s a gent like that. This is where we get the chin touch with the thumb everyone speculated over and then…HE LEANS IN AND KISSES HER TO PUT A NEEDLE IN HER MOUTH? SO SHE CAN RELEASE HERSELF LATER??

To clarify, most of this is my spec, but THE KISS TO PASS HER A NEEDLE IS A REAL LEAKED SPOILER THAT NO LONGER SEEMS FAKE.

It's just…so convoluted and weird??? Does he store needles in his mouth like a squirrel? Why couldn’t he have slipped the needle into her hand??? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ELROND’S LIPS ON GALADRIEL’S?

And look, maybe this spoiler IS still fake! But the details were so specific, and everything about the context seems to be accurate, so that feels like it would be a bonkers coincidence to me. Maybe when we actually see it play out, it will be fine.

But that does bring me back to the Haladriel of it all, just briefly. With my whole heart, I do not need them to kiss. After season 1, I didn’t think it would be possible, and I’m okay with that. But if you’re willing to let ELROND’S lips touch her, then MY GOD, you could have let Haladriel have ONE kiss where she’s trying to distract him or some shit. OOF.

My only relief is that it happens next week, so we can hopefully get it out of our systems and enjoy the finale.

That said, if these leaks are true then that also means the finale leaks are true. Now, I actually never wanted to see any of these spoilers (hence me making it VERY CLEAR what this post is about, because I wouldn’t inflict this stress on anyone unwillingly), so once I got the Elrond kiss details, I tried to get away without seeing much else. But there was some information on the big Haladriel scene.

I’m actually not going to detail it here, because – overall – I think we’ll still super enjoy it (just…lower those kiss expectations) AND because I don’t think all of it was spoiled. At the end of the day, there will be plenty to unpack, they’ll be back on our screens, it will be meaty, it will be layered. I’m really looking forward to it, in general.

My one fear is that it’s a season 1 finale repeat. And again, that won’t necessarily be bad per se, but it will feel a little bit underwhelming. Now, I’m not somebody that wants a true corruption arc for Galadriel. Normally, I love that shit, but not in this IP and not with this character. I want to see her explore her darkness, I want to see her face it and accept it, and I certainly want to see her be tempted…but I don’t expect or believe we'll ever actually get the whole ‘dark queen of Mordor’ vibe. Prisoner? Maybe. But not an actual dark queen.

That said…surely this scene doesn’t play out the EXACT same way as season 1? Sauron shows her a vision, she’s tempted, but ultimately resists and tells him she’ll never be at his side. I just don’t get why we’d repeat that, when there are so many other options that still keep Gal on the side of light.

I keep coming back to Galadriel’s line to Elrond in episode 4 – when it comes down to it, he has to choose to defeat Sauron and sacrifice her. I feel like if I hadn’t seen the leaks, then I would be 1000% expecting this to be the outcome. Especially with how Elrond’s theme comes in at the end of The Last Temptation track. He comes upon the confrontation but chooses to do the thing that will harm Sauron in the long run, rather than the thing that will save Galadriel.

I hope so badly for this, but I do worry that it will go the other way. What if it parallels Gandalfanger’s destiny/friend choice, and Elrond chooses her because THAT is how light wins or some shit? Not that this will be a bad scene by any stretch – I love their relationship and want to see their FRIENDSHIP (grrrr) reforged…but, again, the S1 finale! Sauron left her in the water, and Elrond was there to save her.

There’s also Galadriel’s conversation with Adar in the most recent episode – you succumbed, I resisted – but I guess this could go either way? He succumbed, so she resists. She insists she’s able to resist, so she succumbs. URGH. MY HEAD.

There MUST be a difference. SURELY??? Like, this season has been so well written…I just can’t comprehend the copy and paste.

Again, this isn’t anything close to a deal breaker for me. I firmly believe the showrunners when they say this relationship will remain the core of the show, but…hmmm. Okay, on that note…

DAMAGE CONTROL – MOVING ONTO THE DEFENCE OF THE SHOW

So, this is where I want to get into some stuff that I just…don’t agree with that I’ve seen being thrown at the show by shippers. And I’ll reiterate here that I’m truly not telling anybody what to feel. You can hate the show for its choices and feel how you feel. You can express yourself in your social media spaces, and if anybody doesn’t like it they can mute/block/unfollow. This chunk isn’t really aimed at you guys.

This is more for other people like me, because I’m cursed to be somebody that generally wants to just…enjoy things for what they are, while also being susceptible to the mood of others. I want to scroll tags and have a good time, rather than see negativity because it lowers my mood (this isn’t just ship related by the way, I really love this show overall…it’s just this tag that has been impacting my mood most this season). Regardless of the nonsense that might be in episode 7, and even if the finale scene is a repeat of S1, I’m still going to want to focus on enjoying what we get, enjoying the narrative being told etc. So, for those of you that have a little sinking feeling in your gut after the first half of this post, hopefully this second half will help.

This isn’t a ‘typical’ ship. This is a true ENEMIES ARE ENEMIES dynamic where the bad boy is ultimately going to be (is already) pure evil, and where our heroine is the embodiment of light. There are certain things that we just have to accept when it comes to loving this dynamic as part of the show – there will never be another season like season 1. Nor should there be?

Do I wish for s3 to have them in close proximity for at least a few episodes? Of course! Do I think it’s possible with or without finale spoilers? Absolutely (given how quickly characters travel from place to place on this show, they could end the season at opposite ends of Middle Earth and this would still be on the cards…). I’m also anticipating Season 4 as a good time for them to be in full MIND PALACE mode – where the rings are all ringing, but Galadriel hasn’t yet worked out how to shut him out yet. By season 5, there might just be one final scene before the final battle. But, again, I really do think there needs to be a little bit of acceptance of that. Or, at least, expectation of it.

Something I really want to push back against is this idea that Haladriel was baited or teased, but the writers don’t actually care for it. Honestly, that’s nonsense to me on a couple of levels.

First of all, almost EVERY dynamic this season has been reduced to a handful of scenes here and there. The most consistent relationships have probably been Annatar and Celebrimbor, and Durin+Durin+Disa (off the top of my head). Elrond and Durin (probably the other most popular dynamic of S1) have been apart all season, Elrond and Galadriel have too. Isildur popped up to say hello and we might not see him again.

When you actually stop and look at this season…Sauron and Galadriel had to be separated. She could not be anywhere near him while he’s working Celebrimbor, and there’s no world in which they were ever going to change that narrative. And yet, the Sauron and Galadriel dynamic has been consistent across the season. With Galadriel predominantly (and depending on how the finale goes, I may have thoughts on this), but it has also been easier with her because people have talked with her openly about Sauron. It’s been harder on his side, but the fact that Mirdania seems to have been cast to look like Galadriel honestly – right now – feels like it was done with the express purpose of giving Sauron a Galadriel reference.

Again, I’m not saying you have to like the lack of scenes, but it’s not bad writing to respect the overarching narrative of an ensemble show. Galadriel’s season has been all about him, and we’ve had countless insights to make that clear – building up to their final confrontation. If Sauron was running around mentioning Galadriel every five seconds with Celebrimbor or with the dwarves, it would be horrendously out of character.

This next comment is…somewhat dependent on the finale…but as somebody that loves Elendil and Miriel, everything in Numenor has been somewhat crammed in. I would firmly argue that the Galadriel/Sauron dynamic across this season has been treated with care and reverence, all building to a climax designed as the high point of the season. Will we be 100% satisfied? Who can say! But it IS what the season is building to.

I think this brings me around to a particular gripe I have, and maybe the people that believe this came to the show after S1 had fully aired or something…but there’s this idea floating around that the showrunners don’t like this dynamic and are just giving it crumbs to bait people into watching. This makes me want to scream.

These showrunners literally took a few lines about Galadriel being tempted by Sauron and PITCHED THE ENTIRE SHOW OFF OF THAT. The Tolkien estate wasn’t only pitched by Amazon BUT CHOSE THIS PITCH OVER ANYTHING ELSE. Season 1 was written pretty much like a prologue centred around GALADRIEL AND SAURON HAVING A PERSONAL CONNECTION WITH ROMANTIC UNDERTONES…and guess what?

They wrote all that…they filmed ALL THAT…before knowing anything about the audience reaction! That was ALL the showrunners, the writers, the directors, the actors. They ARE the narrative. They are not bait.

Does that mean the fundamentals of their dynamic will always please you, individually? No, of course not. Some people want outright romance, some people want soft Sauron, some people want Dark Galadriel. Will they kiss? I doubt it. Do I wish they would? Sure! Will they be separated again next season? Probably! Will I also wish that they could at least be stuck together for a run of episodes again? Absolutely!

But the idea that any of this is bait, or unimportant to the show drives me a little bit bonkers.

I guess my personal feeling of frustration comes from the fact that I feel so lucky they are exploring this show from the perspective of this dynamic, regardless of specific details/scenes. I’d bet my house (I don’t own a house) that every other pitch hinged on Elendil or Isildur as the protagonists of the show. Now, I love those dudes, but just IMAGINE? The fact that we’re on this path at all is still WILD to me.

ANYWAY, this is what happens when Paulina goes on holiday and I have nobody to ramble too. Sorry for the explosion, but I’ve been dreading the stupid kiss spoiler since I stumbled on it after EPISODE BLOODY 3 and so I needed to vent somewhere.

TL;DR: You are welcome to feel the way you feel, and if you hate everything you go right ahead, but maybe this makes sense to somebody. IDK. IDK.

[morphean42]

Rewatching Falsettos I was suddenly struck by an epiphany that I’m sure someone else has had at some point, but I needed to write out. This ending scene from “March of the Falsettos” jumped out at me from the first watching, but even though I recognised the nod to the “See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil (and lesser known do no evil)”, I didn’t know what it meant. Today, I tried to piece it together, and I think I’ve gotten it. These poses represent core attributes of the characters, as well as Trina’s view of them, so click the read more to hear the ravings of a mad man wayyyyyy too obsessed with this show

The idea of ‘evil’ to me is very loose. It can represent a lot of things for these characters; their actions towards each other, their character flaws, etc. But, for this analysis, one can replace ‘evil’ with ‘truth’. Each of the characters refuses to see, speak, hear, or ‘do’ the truth (please excuse the lack of grammar for that last one), and that is where the ‘evil’ stems from. Taking into account this is mostly based on Trina’s view of the men, I think ‘truth’ fits in well.

Let’s start with the one who fits in least— Jason. “March of the Falsettos” is a physical manifestation of how Trina views the men in her life (as childish and immature), but some slack is given to her son. He doesn’t sing his lines in falsetto, because we acknowledge he is in fact a child, and has more of an excuse to act as such. So, take his analysis with a grain of salt. The boy has every right to be a little selfish— he’s 10.

So, Jason has his hands over his eyes, representing ‘See No Evil’. This is a direct nod to his character flaw; his view of the world with him at the center. Although his parents are less than good to him, he still sees them through unfair lenses— ‘My mother’s no wife/My father’s no man’. He sings ‘everybody’s yelling and everybody’s ruining it’ in “Everyone Hates His Parents” because he is unhappy with how his Bar Mitzvah is turning out and wants to simply cancel it. He doesn’t have a concept of doing things for other people (again, he’s a child, I’m not blaming him per se), so he is blind to the will of others and refuses to see their side. In addition to this, even when Mendel tells him Whizzer will most likely die, Jason pleads with G-d to save him. He still views himself as the center of his world, thus Mendel’s line ‘Life’s not all about him’.

In addition to this, his ‘See No Evil’ means something when thought about from Trina’s perspective. She thinks her son is blind to the truth of the world, this son who stays inside playing chess alone, this son who ‘seems like an idiot to [Trina]’. She worries Jason will turn out like these other men in her world, blind to everyone but himself.

Now we come to Mendel, who has his hand over his mouth in ‘Speak No Evil’. Mendel’s flaw throughout the show is his refusal to accept the truth of any situation. He tells Jason to ‘feel alright for the rest of your life’ instead of actually trying to help, he is ‘frightened of questions’, he repeats over and over ‘I’ll make you well’ to Whizzer in the hospital. He will never say anything negative, nor will he allow others to do so. Even in the end of the show, he tells Jason they don’t know ‘when or if’ Whizzer will get better— he is still not accepting that it’s a definite thing. He believes that if he and those around him just don’t speak about the real problems, they’ll go away.

Trina’s view on Mendel is complicated here. In the next song she agrees to marry him, of course, and we know she at least likes him (the most of all three adults she knows). She says that Mendel ‘decides the role to assume’. She looks down on the fact that he can’t speak the truth to her, that he’s expecting this happy wife, this perfect new family. He wants her to play along with him and make their home together, even if she sings ‘liking our lives’ instead of loving. Even if he’s better than Marvin ever was, there’s still an element of control here. Mendel wants this family, and he wants them to all pretend nothing is ever wrong again.

Marvin, our titular character, is in the ‘Hear No Evil’ position. This one is fairly straight forward— he wants control and will never listen to the needs of those around him. He can’t hear what they actually need, he simply does what he wants. He also struggles with his masculinity throughout Act 1, his outward misogyny and need for the nuclear family (his treatment of Trina and Whizzer), so he imagines himself at the top of his family system. He will never take any other opinions, or counsel, in his decisions, seeing that as weakness. He’s similar to Jason in this regard, as he only hears what he wants to (like Jason only sees what he wants). He ignores the pain around him to pursue his own desires, he covers his ears and moves on.

Trina, of course, despises Marvin at this point in the show. Her subconscious showing Marvin in ‘Hear No Evil’ can tell us a lot about their relationship, how she was never seen as equal in decisions. Marvin always put her to the side, not listening to her needs, acting without thinking of her.

Whizzer is complicated. I’ve seen people laugh at his pose before, saying we’ve got ‘See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, and Gay’, but I think he represents the ‘Do No Evil’. This final character is not often seen with the other three, and can be depicted with arms over the chest or covering the genitals. It wouldn’t make sense to have Whizzer be the outlier (especially because the fourth depiction of evil does exist), so I’m assuming he is supposed to be ‘Do No Evil’.

This fits in well with Whizzer’s flaws throughout the show. He doesn’t accept responsibility for his relationship with Marvin; seen in the lines ‘I’m not responsible’ during “Late For Dinner” or ‘I will not accept blame’ in “Games I Play”. He sleeps around, despite Marvin wanting monogamy, and clearly did not have an issue hooking up with a married man. Whizzer fundamentally doesn’t think his actions have consequences, he believes he has done nothing wrong (he has done no evil). Whizzer also has a hard time admitting to his love for Marvin. He says it ‘depends on the day’, he flat out says ‘no’ when asked if he loves him. He doesn’t want to show his love for fear of being too vulnerable, so he hides and doesn’t do anything about it.

To take this even further, him being ‘Do No Evil’ can represent his later question of ‘why me of all men’ when he is dying. He hasn’t done anything to deserve his death, and ‘all men get what they deserve’, right?

Moving on to how Trina sees Whizzer. He’s come into her life and ruined her marriage, though she ‘wants to hate him’ she can’t. She views him as the cause of her recent hardships, his actions being to blame. He is ‘Do No Evil’ to her because he has done evil in taking Marvin away (though it is obvious Trina is better off because of it). He has upset the careful balance of her world by breaking down the lies of her marriage and exposing the truth— Marvin never loved her, could never love her. She puts him in ‘Do No Evil’ because what he has done is what the rest of the men won’t— see, hear, speak the truth even at the detriment of her family.

Another way to view this is, of course, the fact that ‘Do No Evil’ is rarely seen with the others. Trina is separating Whizzer from the other men, not putting him in the same category as the rest of the ‘family’. He views himself as an outsider as well, yes he’s part of the group, but only as a technicality. Only as Marvin’s lover. Once he leaves Marvin, he is easily taken out of the equation and the remaining three do not feel the loss.

My conclusion is such: Each of the poses our men do represents the character flaw they must overcome throughout the show, as well as how Trina views them in her mind. I really hope this made any sort of sense, and if someone has already said all of this well… I guess it can’t hurt to be thorough.

I’m way too tired to read through this again so if there are spelling mistakes please print out this post, correct it in red pen, and send it to me by carrier pigeon.