#(like the one or two times it has ever happened lol)

[jinxsequin]

mechanic!jinx drabble ⊹₊⟡⋆

| summary: mechanic!jinx x fem!reader drabble

| wc: 2.8k

| content: mechanic!jinx, modern au, men dni, kissing/making out, slightly suggestive, reader & jinx are a tiny bit mean first, mostly fluff, possibly ooc jinx, probably car/mechanic info inaccuracies lol

mechanic!jinx who owns or either co-owns her shop with ekko, obviously named something ridiculously quirky. it looks like your typical garage/shop from afar but is definitely done up with her signature touch.

so when you’re driving through town, exhaustion sweeping over you as the heat and long day of driving catch up to you, the sight of a garage with the light up monkey sign illuminating the dark roads fills you with both a sense of relief and curiosity. you take a left and pull in, turning off the engine and resting your head on the steering wheel for a moment. coming back to your home town was always a taxing process, but it had almost been long enough to forget just how tricky the journey was. almost.

you pulled down the sun visor, scanning your reflection in the mirror as you smoothed out unruly pieces of your hair. you’d almost reached your family home, but the engine making strange sounds and stalling in the middle of the road was happening too periodically for you to ignore. now that you think about it - you definitely should have pulled over and got it checked out way before. there wasn’t a lot in your hometown, and at this time, practically everything still functioning had long closed for the night - so when the lit up ‘open’ sign in front of the garage came into view you thanked your lucky stars.

the cool summer air hits you the second you step out of your car. you wrapped your arms around your body, your flimsy cardigan doing little to prevent the goosebumps forming on your arms. you cautiously ventured further inside, stopping when you catch sight of someone inside.

mechanic!jinx who doesn’t seem to be affected by the chilly temperature, you figure, as your eyes land on the back of her figure leaning over a workbench, black tank top clinging to the top half of her body, showing off the intricate cloud tattoos wrapped around her bicep extending down her arm. two messy blue braids swing around with every movement as she’s seemingly caught up in her tinkering. you take the opportunity to scan the place you’re standing in. the space is clearly well loved and definitely lived-in, evident by the doodles and sketches of vehicles and their parts pinned up, tools, mini figures of cars and metal scraps strewn across every surface. 

“we’re closed,” the figure speaks simply, finally noticing your presence despite not bothering to turn around. 

you furrow your brows, checking the time. sure, it was just past midnight, but the open sign had been pretty clear, hadn’t it?

“the sign says you’re open,” you huff out, hating to be that person but also so worn out, wanting nothing but to crash into a bed as soon as possible. 

the figure finally turns around, pulling the goggles to rest atop their head. the woman in front of you has the most striking eyes you’ve ever seen, magenta hue glinting under the lights of the garage. your breath catches in your throat as you take in the rest of the features of her face while she scans your form from top to bottom, eyes narrowed. 

“huh,” she finally replies, “must be broken again.” she walks to some spot behind you, meddling with a switch before turning back towards your figure. “there, closed!” she quipped with something that looked suspiciously like a grin. 

you spin around at her words, arms thrown up in exasperation. “are you fucking kidding me??” you bristle. jinx simply shrugs in response, a slight smirk playing on her lips at your annoyance. asshole.

you take a deep breath to attempt to collect yourself. you’re not going to get far if you piss off the only person around who can fix your car, however maddening she may be. “please, you guys are the only ones i’ve passed in this godforsaken town that look like you can actually help. it’ll be quick, and i’ll be out of your hair in no time,” you plead, swallowing your pride in hope that the woman before you would take mercy on you if she knew you were being genuine.

mechanic!jinx who toys with a spanner as she listens to you amusedly. she already knows she’s going to help - maybe she just wants to hear you beg. pretty women are her weakness, after all. she lets a beat of silence hang between you when you finish speaking, as if she’s weighing between decisions. she finally lets out a sigh, crossing her arms over her chest as she continues to scrutinise you. 

“fine,” she relents, rolling her eyes slightly, “let’s go see what the damage is, trouble.” 

she’s been hunched over the engine bay of your car for around twenty minutes already, twisting knobs and wiping areas with a rag, occasionally shaking her head and murmuring to herself at the sight. you stand to the side, thinking anxiously about the state of your car and how you’re going to get home but simultaneously fighting to overcome the thoughts of just how attractive she looks in her craft, unable to tear your eyes away from her. you think you’re actually going to have to slap yourself out of it, when she suddenly looks up from under the head to turn to you. 

“damn it toots, did you ever get the oil filter cleaned on this thing?” jinx jabs, shattering your thought spiral.

of course, she just had to be infuriating as well as impossibly hot. you roll your eyes, scowling. “obviously, i’m not that stupid,” you shot back.

“ha, when was the last time?” she replies, raising an eyebrow. not giving you the chance to respond, she turns back to the engine, shaking her head. “it’s not just that, the engine clearly overheated - that explains the noises you said it was making. it’s going to take a couple of days to fix.”

“so i can’t take it now?” you ask in reply, mentally facepalming afterwards at the stupidly obvious question.

“are you out of your mind?”

“shit,” you mutter, running your hands down your face in dismay. “what am i gonna do?” 

mechanic!jinx whose gaze softens as she looks to you, despite your words being directed to yourself more than anyone else. jinx hesitates for a moment, biting her lip as she figures out what to say. “i’ll give you a ride home if you need it,” she finally manages, watching you in anticipation of your reaction, though she’s surprised at herself too. 

your gaze snaps back to her at that in confusion, that’s not the reply you were expecting from the snarky woman. 

“really?” you reply, following behind her as she begins to swiftly walk away, packing up her tools. 

“sure, lemme close up first,” she replies seemingly collected, but the way she stays with her back turned as she begins rolling down the shutters of the workshop is a little conflicting. your eyes narrow at her though she can’t see you. there has to be some sort of catch to this. “wait, how do i know you’re not some creep, or like a serial killer or something-”

mechanic!jinx turning back to you, an expression of incredulousness on her face. “don’t make me retract my offer, toots,” she deadpans. that shuts you up, and you simply nod in accord as you trail after her to her car, far too tired to care or argue any longer. her car is just as sleek and cool-looking as you’d expect from someone in her profession , but the little modifications make it so her. you think you’re subtle in the way your eyes flick over it in quiet admiration, but the faint smirk painting her face is telling a different story. 

once you’re situated inside, you can’t help but let your curiosity at the oddness of the woman’s behaviour get the better of you. who does that??? “so do you just offer rides in the dead of your night to all your customers or…”

jinx turns to you with a glare as the engine comes to life. “can you just be grateful?” her words carry no bite though, and the faint blush across her cheeks isn’t helping. she has a feeling she knows why she offered like that so quickly but she definitely isn’t admitting that.

“okay, yeah no i’m grateful. veryyy grateful, thankyou,” you emphasise, quickly turning your eyes back to the road as jinx simply scoffs lightheartedly in response. you tell her the directions, and only a few words are passed between you as she begins to drive, the fatigue from the long day getting the better of the two of you. you’re definitely not subtle in the way you admire the view of her side profile while she’s driving and her hands gripped around the steering wheel - but thankfully she’s too preoccupied with the road in front of her to notice. 

once you finally park in front of your house, you’re more than ready to leave - though the eye candy in front of you is very tempting, you’re absolutely ready to sleep for a week. you’re also not sure how much longer you’ll be able to be near her without doing something embarrassing or regretful. jinx clears her throat just as your hand reaches the door handle, all previous confidence and smoothness apparently thrown to the wolves as you turn back to her questioningly. 

“you can come by in three days, your car should be fixed by then,” she says. then, after a short pause, “i’m jinx, by the way.” 

you tell her your name and thank her again, genuinely, before getting out. jinx waits till you’ve gone all the way inside, watching wistfully as your figure disappears from view before she turns the key back in, heading home for the night. 

mechanic!jinx who is teased mercilessly by ekko the following day when she tries to casually bring you up. casually - who is she kidding? she’s never been casual about anything in her life. 

“so wait, you’re telling me instead of, you know, doing the normal thing and asking for her number, you were just straight up a jerk instead???” ekko had laughed when she recounted the events to him. 

“fuck you. how was i supposed to pull that one off?” jinx scowled, “and for the record - we were closed, it was that goddamn sign glitching again.”

ekko snorted in response, shaking his head. “well, you quite literally had a reason to, when she’s supposed to come back for the car?”

“okay, smartass, back to work,” jinx snarked, as ekko narrowly dodged the scrunched-up note aimed at his head, still laughing. she couldn’t argue with that, but in her defence, she was usually way smoother than that…somewhat.

mechanic!jinx whose breath catches in her throat when you eventually come back after three days during which she definitely wasn’t thinking about you. you can’t deny the fact that you put a tiny bit more effort in your appearance today, more than what was needed for just going to a garage on the outskirts of the town, kicking yourself when you realised as you looked at your reflection that afternoon. your mind short circuits as you’re walking closer to her, simultaneously thanking whatever powers were out there for blessing your eyes with the view in front of you and cursing whatever was in the air to make you feel this way. 

“hey,” you say when you’re finally close enough to be within earshot. 

“hi,” jinx replies, eyes refusing to leave your face. a few beats of silence pass while you both stare, before you snap out of it and clear your throat. “soooo…my car, is it ready?” you sound out tentatively.

jinx plays with the hair at the back of her head as she nods awkwardly, suddenly looking anywhere but your face as she starts walking. “oh, of course, your car. right this way…” 

you follow her through the garage passing different areas before you reach your car, the two of you standing near the side doors of your car as jinx debriefs you on what exactly was wrong with your car and what was done to fix it. you’ve checked out of the conversation long ago, far too distracted by how ridiculously attractive she looks right now, tattoos on display once again, but also how charming she is rambling about things you probably barely have a idea about, let alone care about. It’s a shame it doesn’t last long though. 

“the air filter on that thing…worst one i’ve seen in years, probably. and that fuel pump - what do you do, run the tank to the ground-”

“excuse me,” you snap, eyes narrowed at her jabs, spell broken. she’s almost civil one moment, the next she’s on your back once again?

“what?” jinx’s eyes widen exaggeratedly as she shrugs her shoulders. “it’s all true, in fact toots, i don’t think you should really even be on the road.” that was it - okay, maybe you weren’t the best at maintaining your car but you were perfectly good at driving it, thank you very much.

“do you actually do anything around here, or is running your mouth the only thing you’re good at?” you shoot back, barely controlling your rage at how easily she can rile you up. 

“i’ll have you know i’m good at many things actually,” jinx taunts as she leans in closer to you, “like actually getting my car checked when the engine is on the brink of failure, though me personally i haven’t ever-”

“are you good at shutting the fuck up?” you interrupt, your glare scorching as the rest of your body heats in anger and maybe something else. 

“should we find out?” her voice drops to a teasing whisper as she leans in even closer to your space. you’re internally berating yourself for the way your gaze immediately drops to her lips, though when you look back up to meet her eyes there’s a flicker in them as she does the same. a sweet smell mixed with the slightest tinge of engine oil clings to her, clings to you, overwhelms your senses and your body and your brain and what the fuck is actually going on?

mechanic!jinx who hums approvingly into the kiss when you meet her lips in the middle. your hands go to the back of her head, tangling your fingers as if to ground yourself while she places her warm hands on your waist, tugging you to the point there’s no space between you. her lips move against yours in the middle ground between delicateness and recklessness, and it’s almost maddening how good, how right, it feels - though that thought is quickly brushed away as her lips part from yours to move to your jawline.

you readily welcome the tenderness of her touch as she presses delicate kisses from your jaw down to your neck. her lips find your pulse point, and the quiet sound it draws from your lips make jinx lift her head up quickly, meeting your eyes with a faint smirk. you glare at her playfully, and that’s all it takes for her to shake her head and swiftly resume, moving her hands closer to your hips to pull you flush to her.

“jinx there’s a customer asking for their keys out there, can you go-” ekko’s sentence ends midway as he enters the bay, his eyes landing on the two of you pressed against the side door of your car. 

mechanic!jinx who is unwilling to let go of you, one hand still gripped firmly on your hip and the other on your shoulder as you watch the scene unfold with an embarrassed flush. jinx glares daggers at the clueless boy, more pissed at the fact that she was interrupted than the fact she was caught. 

ekko puts his hands up in surrender. “i’ll see to it,” he says, doing little to stifle his snicker as he turns on his heel swiftly and walks out. jinx mutters something about getting him back, dropping the hand away from your shoulder as she turns back to you. you visibly deflate at the loss of contact, though the hand on your hip is unmoving as jinx, for the first time it seems, looks like she’s struggling to speak. 

“canitakeyouonadate,” she finally manages to blurt out, and your eyebrows raise at the unintelligible words.

“what was that?” you reply, tilting your head in confusion. 

“can i take you on a date,” jinx mumbles, barely able to keep eye contact with you as she repeats herself more clearly. 

your heart skips a beat at her words, but you’re not letting up that easily. “oh, could you repeat that? i didn’t quite catch it,” you playfully mock, not holding back the grin that makes its way to your face. 

jinx sends you a fleeting look before burying her head in your shoulder. “can i take you on a date?” she repeats, though her words are muffled, “please.” you giggle, both at the ticklish feeling and her antics as you nod slightly. “you may.”

she raises her head to meet your gaze, smiling slightly as you finally give in. “my car?” you tease. 

jinx raises an eyebrow. “absolutely not,” she snickers, shaking her head in mock disbelief at your suggestion, before leaning down to meet your lips again. 

a/n: finally, a post actually below 6k words ! i really need to stop starting to write one idea then getting too excited about another and jumping to that because i get nothing finished...anyways this is literally brain vomit i just had to get it out so not too sure abt the quality !! but if you enjoy pls be sure to comment/reblog, thanks for reading <3

(gifs by cafekitsune)

[angelluv16]

She has a type

Lando Norris x Leclerc!reader

✩: Lexi Leclerc was in a relationship with Joe Burrow for almost 5 years until He dumped her. Lando has had a huge crush on her since forever until he decided it was time to make a move.

faceclaim: sophia birlem, girls from pinterest

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader

request: no!!

warnings: none If their is let me know

part 2

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, arthurleclerc, lando and 877,168 others

lexileclerc: Since I didn't post a end of the month Dump for the past two months here is a little of these past two months.

tagged: @ alexandrasaintmleux @ arthurleclerc

comments have been limited under this post

charlesleclerc: No photo of me wtf

lexileclerc: I don't like you

alexandrasaintmleux: I love you angel I'll always protect you

lexileclerc: love you so so much

arthurleclerc: Look at us I was always the cuter twin

lexileclerc: Yeahhhhh Keep telling yourself that

lorenzotl: Love you baby sis

lexileclerc: 💕💕

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by username39, username40, username41 and 109,035 others

people: Seems Like Our favorite couple #jexi have Called it Quits after almost 5 years together.

view all 25,364 comments

username42: SAY JINX RN

username43: WHATTT!!! NOOOO

username44: Now I understand her crying photo in her recent post

username45: My girl was so in love wtf happened

username46: sad but also this finally gives lando a chance lol

username47: Girl That's such a wierd thing to say why lando and Lexi??

username48: Lando has had the biggest crush on lexi he said it on an interview and charles has known for the lonngest time which is why he wasn't he surprised but she was already dating Joe so he never really got the chance to tell her but now he does.

username49: HELLO I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS IN THE BEGGINING OF A NEW YEAR STOPP

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lexileclerc, charlesleclerc,alexalbon and 29,827 others

lando: I Could Treat you better than he ever did

view all 69,026 comments

username50: HELLO!?!?! THE THIRD PHOTO

username51: THE CAPTION

username52: Oh to be this hot and post thirst traps

username53: My man is feeling shady damnnn

charleslelcerc: 🤨🤨

username54: this has to be a dig to joe since he always has had a crush on lexi

alexalbon: you make me laugh

username55: I would do unholy stuff to that neck ♥︎ by lexileclerc

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

lexileclerc

{caption: I'm doing so much better}

replies:

lando: Love the blonde hair! It looks good on you

lexileclerc: 🤭🤭Thank you Lando

alexandrasaintmleux: Why the pouty face

lexileclerc: because you're with my brother and not with me

username56: The blonde hair is everything

username57: She's healing

username58: I'm glad ur doing better

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando, charlotte2304, alexandrasaintmleux and 10,296 others

lexileclerc: FUCK!! It's Already Feburary. Here's January Photo Dump. One Of my favorite months

view all 99,027 comments

charlotte2304: My angel

lexileclerc: 💖💖

charlesleclerc: You need to stop stealing my dog.

lexileclerc: Nope

username59: You Look so happy🥺🥺

username60: That smile is everything

lando: Angel ♥︎ by lexileclerc

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

lexileclerc

{caption 1: Outfit for tonigh!} {caption 2: Mcdonalds is always the move}

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@isagrace22

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Part 2????

[acerathia]

essence || Sylus | Qin Che

Summary:

It has been some time since the last message you have received from Sylus. And that's way too long. So, once you check on him, you find him in quite a predicament and decide to help him out a little.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Sylus | Qin Che / f!Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

Minors and Ageless Blogs DNI!! pwp, mildly dubious consent (bc is any consent ever not dubious if ruts are involved?), aphrosidiacs/sex pollen, he's in a rut, nipple play, cunnilingus, soft femdom (i think lol), thigh fucking, prone bone, praise, piv, cockwarming, soo much desire and lust waow, sprinkles of spoilers of his myth (implied), they're sooo soulmates

Note:

dragon............ yeah *thumbs up*

The N109 Zone is a No-Hunt-Zone. A place that is supposed to be filled with fluctuations and wanderers. Yet, the reason for its name weren’t the wandering abnormalities, but the factions, filled with desire to spread their power, and because of the difficulty entering it in the first place.

You remember how you got yourself into this place in the first place. But now, you don’t need to resort to such actions anymore. Not with Sylus, who will always have your back. Sylus who has not contacted you in some time, leaving you worried and tense, waiting for any sign of life. Until you couldn’t stand staring at your phone anymore. You had to look for him yourself if he didn’t answer your messages. There must be something wrong, right?

Even if you know how capable Sylus is, anxiety is something you cannot simply fend off, not without reassurance that he is safe and sound. And currently, that exactly is missing. This is why you have gotten onto your motorcycle and are racing towards the N109 Zone, your eyes occasionally flitting around, looking for Mephisto. But the skilled crow that is usually observing you at all times seems to have gone up in the air.

There’s barely any time for you to properly park your motorcycle before you practically storm into his home. Opening every door shouting his name, until you stop in front of the one belonging to his bedroom. Despite your hurry, you raise your hand to knock.

“Sylus? Are you there?”

A rustle and a low grunt. “What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

Your hand on the doorknob, slowly opening the door. “You worried me… You– you haven’t answered me in two days, what was I supposed to do…”

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’ve been rather… preoccupied lately. That’s it. You can go back now.”

His words rough, like he’s suppressing, hiding something. You furrow your eyebrows. This only raises your concern, as there has never been any instance where Sylus, your Sylus would have sent you away, just like that. And even if he did, he would be truthful to you about why.

So, even with his subtle instruction, you enter his room fully. And the heat presses against your skin. The moment you feel the choking warmth, you make your way to the next window to open it and to let some fresh air in. But you barely have cracked it open, when a hand grabs your waist, pulling you towards him.

The heat is pouring out of him, almost like he’s made of fire itself. His arms wrap around you, pressing you tightly to his own body, his face nuzzling into the soft skin of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“This was a mistake, you should have listened to me… I don’t know if I can hold back,” he murmurs, his teeth scraping against your jugular.

“Sylus… What happened?” you ask, hands cupping his head carefully to lead him to look at you.

He presses his face against your palm, eyes half-lidded. “An operation has veered slightly off-course. Nothing major, just brought some bothersome consequences. This should be over soon…”

Before you could offer your help in any capacity, he had already dragged you onto his lap, his lips kissing along your throat. Softness, before the sharpness digs into your flesh, his sharp canines scraping your skin, marking you at the soft spot where your shoulder meets your neck.

A gasp escapes you, and your fingers pull slightly at his hair, making him look up to you once again. Only to be met with hazy eyes, dark and filled with desire, cheeks slightly flushed. The way Sylus looks at you makes something stir in you, and your thoughts disappear in smoke, as you simply sink your lips against his, tasting him and his wants. His slack jaw makes it easier to get your tongue into his mouth, caressing his, exploring him tooth by tooth, their unusual sharpness digging and dragging.

His hands on your hips, moving you so easily with his strength, trapping you underneath him, kiss uninterrupted, his mouth devouring every bit of you. All he can think of is you and the way you feel underneath his touch, the way your body fits against his, like a piece of his soul returned to him.

Weight pressing against your body, comfort yet heady and exhilarating. You take his hand and lead him to touch your skin underneath your shirt, encouraging his raging desires he desperately tried to repress, stoking the flames bubbling in his veins. And it seems to work, his fingertips clutching you, but at the same time, this simple touch is not enough for him; thoughts consumed by you, you, you.

With a single jerk of his hand, Sylus has ripped your shirt, exposing your torso to his blazing eyes trailing over every bit of you; and to his greedy teeth, digging into soft flesh soon after.

“That’s good, take your fill,” you pant, your hand cupping his jaw to allow him to grab more of you.

He murmurs your name over and over again. Until you stop him from descending lower than your collarbones.

“Patience. C’mon, take your clothes off for me,” you direct him softly, tugging at his shirt, raising your foot to press against his bulge. “Show me your desire.”

The simple touch evokes a rumbling groan out of him and you feel him twitch against your sole. His eyes meet yours, hunger barely restrained by your words. Yet, Sylus listens to you, grabbing the hem of his shirt to slowly pull it over his head, muscles moving with each motion, tense and squeezing. Truly what a sight, one meant just for you.

Throwing it aside, he reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with a low hiss, followed closely by the sound of a zipper. With a shuffle, he slides his pants off, and you can see the outline of his length, pressing desperately against the cloth covering him. His fingers find the waistband, but you hold your hand up.

“That’s enough, come here.”

You stretch your arms towards him and he immediately sinks into your embrace, his face nuzzling against your neck, teeth scraping against skin. Your fingers drive through his hair while your leg is applying slight pressure against his bulge, rubbing and nudging, eliciting a groan out of him.

“My darling, do tell, what do you want?” you ask him in a breathy voice, your own needs intensifying just by seeing him in this state, completely in your hand.

“You, I want you, only you, I want to burn in your touch, feeling you, and nothing else. May I, my love? I don’t know how long I can hold out without piecing our souls together…” he murmurs, voice hoarse and it almost seems like his current desire mingles with one from the past, yet still towards you, always you, the only one able to truly touch his essence.

You hum, cocking your head to give him more room for his mouth against your jugular. “Do you want to show me? How you would devour me? Then, I suppose I can give you permission to do what you want, just for now.”

The moment these words leave your mouth, his teeth sinking into your flesh, leaving stinging indents behind; and you wonder if he’s coating his tongue in your blood, if the sweetness of your skin makes his head dizzy, his desires overflowing.

His mouth travels, savoring each inch of you, biting, nibbling, not leaving any skin untouched, aching and desperate. Lips latching on your nipples as soon as he kissed his way towards him, sucking, licking, tasting, his lips teasing and caressing. Meanwhile, his hand has found the other one, fingers pressing delicately, before twisting, feeling the way you twitch underneath his touch, his ministrations. And you feel the pads of his fingers hot against your skin, much hotter than a normal human would feel.

After hearing you gasp his name a couple of times, hands buried in his hair, Sylus continues on his way, leaving a trail over your tummy, a proof of his existence, just for you. And soon, he meets the waistband of your pants, the ones gone as fast as you could even think about them, leaving you with your already soaked panties. His hands grab your thighs to pry them apart and to reveal your desires to him, the way your throbbing core wants him, needs him. He lowers his head, only to nuzzle it against your thigh, looking up to you with lidded eyes, almost like he’s asking for permission.

“You deserve it, take a taste, and please me,” you smile, nodding your head once as encouragement.

Taking your words and immediately diving in, his tongue lapping at your clit over the damp cloth, tasting your desire for him. Despite the slight barrier, he doesn’t take your panties off, rather, he continues to lick your core like that, sucking at your throbbing bud, tip of tongue savoring you with each motion, with each touch. Your thighs are pressing against his head, hips bucking, in need for more and more of him.

You grab his hair and pull slightly at him. “F-fuck. Do it properly, will you?” You try to hide the slight whiny tone in your voice, needy and desperate for more.

Instead of words, his teeth dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, at the connection between your pelvis and leg. While putting his mark on you, he slowly slides your panties down to the middle of your thighs, just leaving enough space for him to fit between your legs.

And heeding your words, the moment he’s within reach, his flattened tongue caresses your aching clit, sucking at your most sensitive spot, making you more and more tense with each swipe, with each pass between your sticky folds. The tip of his tongue teases your clenching opening, drawing a moan of his name out of you, highlighting the emptiness inside of you, yearning for him to fill you and complete you.

With his careful ministrations, his knowledge about you immeasurable, touching you in every way you like, in every way leading you closer and closer towards the edge. Until the right time, the right pressure, and the sight of him between your thighs, eyes hazy with lust yet focused on you and your own wants, and you unravel on his tongue, feeling yourself gush over his mouth, and all he does is drink you up, devour you entirely.

You throw your head back, shivering as you continue to feel his tongue against you, licking everything seeping out of you with eagerness, moans vibrating against your skin.

“Ah, Sylus! Fuck… Mmh. Well done…” you murmur, tugging at his hair, only to let your fingernails scrape his scalp carefully. “Hm, what a good boy you are. You can choose how you want to take me.”

After one last kiss, he raises himself, and he’s towering over you, all muscle and strength, and yet powerless underneath your touch and your words. With ease he grabs your hips and turns you around, your chest hitting the mattress. You barely can hold yourself on your knees, as he leads his length towards your entrance. But instead of entering your needy cunt, he lets himself glide through your folds, his tips bumping against your clit, rubbing and caressing, the veins throbbing against you, making you clench around nothing. Desire overtaking him, as he leans down, his chest pressing against your back, his lips touching the nape of your neck, moans of your name filling your marrow, while one of his hands caresses your chest, pinching your nipple.

You whimper at the way he seems to hit your sensitive spots just right. “C’mon, make me feel good, won’t you?”

These words seem to spur Sylus on, as you feel him twitch between your thighs. And at this, you can’t help but rub your soft skin against him. “Hm, show me how you would fuck me, though. Fuck my thighs for me, yeah?” You change directions, feeling excited at the thought of him climaxing purely due to your softness and nothing else.

His hips sputter for a moment, only to pick up the pace, as you press your thighs closely together, leaving just enough space for him to get off on. His cock slides against your softness, twitching and throbbing, hips rutting, seeking his own high, pleasing himself on your body with your permission, enjoying the way your skin rubs against his veins, caressing the tip of his cock; the way your flesh molds to him, and only him. And he can’t help but imagine how it might feel to be enveloped in your warmth, to fill you to the core. Just the picture of his length being buried to the hilt in you instead of just rubbing against your supple thighs, combined with the pressure you have been continuously applying, imitating the clench you have been feeling with each jerk of his, makes him climax, sputtering ropes against your torso, yet he continues to buck his hips, seeking more friction, more you, moaning your name over and over again, his reason to exist.

You don’t give him proper downtime as you rub your hips against his, feeling him harden once again. Your mere existence is enough for him to want and want and want. “Do you want to cum inside me? Do you want to please me, to feel me? Hm? Then do it, let me feel you.”

Teeth sink into your shoulder and he doesn’t hesitate to align his length against your entrance, aching for him. The moment his tip enters you, you feel overwhelmed, his cock filling you slowly with each languid stroke, until you can barely breath, his being taking over you entirely, making your head spin from pleasure and want. His hips against yours, and you can’t help but grind yourself against him, seeking more and more, and Sylus doesn’t want anything more than you and your pleasure, to see you come undone over his cock. So, he begins to move, pulling out carefully, only to push himself back in at the perfect angle, hitting your soft spot, making you see stars and moan his name. With each motion of his hips, the speed takes up until he settles for something you truly seem to enjoy, while taking good care of you. At the same time, he carefully grabs your face, turning you towards him to capture your lips in his, hot and heavy, tongue lapping against tongue, spit and moans, teeth dragging and digging, devouring you with his fierceness.

His weight slowly shifts on you as his hand wanders between your legs, spreading your folds carefully to touch your clit with his fingertips, to draw the motions and get the loudest noises out of you. Each flick and jerk barely controlled, just with the intent to draw out the tension, to wind you up underneath his touch. And with the right pressure and a deep stroke into your cunt, you come apart, clenching around him as you moan his name in wanton. The sudden tightness around him draws a grunt out of him, his lips kissing your shoulders, before letting his incisors once again mark your flesh, his thrusts growing erratic with each passing, until everything releases, flowing out of him and warming you up, his cock to the hilt buried inside you, right where he belongs.

With this, he lets himself slump fully towards you, arms circling your waist, as he drags you down to the mattress, face in your neck, refusing to let go of you, murmuring confessions of love and resonance of your being. And as much as Sylus would never want to part with you, you would never part with him; you both share a soul, living without the other impossible. That is your fate, the one you choose; to be with him for the rest of all times.

[lucysarah-c]

I'll just say, I may be here posting about Mounting Spring, asks etc... But I'm cooking... I'm cooking something everyone asked me for lol

“I like this! This 3D flower pattern is so on trend right now.”

Levi’s eyes were glued to the screen as a freshly painted nail was shown up close.

“Oh, hi! Thank you,” her voice popped up again, and like an animal in pure confusion, he tilted his head to the side.

What are those things popping up? He was completely lost.

“Isn’t it too late for coffee?” she read aloud before grabbing her cup and taking a sip from the straw. “There’s no such thing as too much black or too late for coffee. Plus, it’s girls’ night! What’s a girls’ night without iced coffee or a glass of wine?”

This feels wrong now, Levi thought, taking a sip of his own drink, lazily sprawled on his bed. But when she started showing off her pajamas, that’s when he lost it.

Holy shit... it’s the little shorts doing it for me.

“This is why kids these days have their eyes glued to this shit,” he muttered, almost offended— as if his own mouth wasn’t slightly open and his eyes weren’t stuck to the screen as she vibed to the song playing in the background.

“Have you ever tried… this one?” She winked at the camera, arm in the air, hips moving in a way that Levi quickly guessed was meant to simulate riding. Over the kitchen island.

…I’m definitely not better than a 12-year-old boy.

The chat flooded with messages about how much they loved the song.

Whose song is this?

“Oh! I love that! Ugh, my heart is divided, I want all of them to win! Birds of a Feather is so good, but Hot to Go?” she gushed, listing more names Levi didn’t recognize.

Who are those?

“And the dance?”

What trend? What song? What dance?

Levi felt lost. Completely lost.

“Oh, thank you for the donation! Here, a heart for you!”

She pressed two fingers together in the shape of a heart. Levi tilted his head again, frowning.

How the hell is that a heart?

But before he could keep questioning his entire existence—or, perhaps, his age—her expression shifted. The usual bright smile faded as she read something from the chat.

“Look, if you’ve got a problem with me, just keep scrolling, buddy. Can an admin ban him from the stream, please?”

That made Levi do the exact opposite. He scrolled up through the rapidly moving chat until he found the comment in question. Some idiot had said she owed it to him if something happened because of what she was wearing and doing on screen.

“What’s your fucking problem, dude?” Levi whispered, clicking his tongue. “If a woman has never even touched you, don’t say it so loudly.”

His fingers moved on their own, pressing the guy’s username, looking for a way to reply—until he suddenly let the phone drop onto his chest and stared at the ceiling.

“I need to calm down,” he muttered. Being in this live stream was already too much for him. Getting into an online argument was not the way to go.

How long had he been watching? He wasn’t sure. But in that time, he’d learned that ASMR meant tapping on objects with freshly done nails and whispering, that people voted on live which designs she should do next, and… a whole lot more.

“Say you can’t sleep, baby, I know. That’s me, espresso…”

She sang along to the music, and he felt hypnotized.

“…Did I just spend two hours of my life on this?”

The “Love ya!” came through the speakers as she blew a final kiss before ending the live.

“For fuck’s sake…” Levi muttered, almost offended. “You can’t be that stupidly cute.”

Maybe pop songs were popular for a reason. Maybe that’s why Levi never downloaded any apps on his phone or used it for anything beyond strictly necessary texts. Because explain to him why the hell he was humming at work.

“Since when do you know Sabrina Carpenter?”

Hange appeared out of nowhere, catching him off guard.

Levi had to come up with an excuse. Fast.

“What? Is it illegal for me to know new songs?”

“No…” Hange dragged the word out, squinting at him in suspicion. “But since when do you?”

“Give me a break. I’m not that old. I can get to know new artists,” he brushed it off while brewing himself a tea.

Hange let it slide, but their mind was already working, scheming. They kept talking, mostly about work. But as Levi finished his tea and was ready to leave, Hange casually dropped:

“Espresso?”

Levi frowned. “What?”

Hange repeated the question immediately, as if he hadn’t heard them the first time. But of course, he had.

“Fuck no. You know I hate coffee. Black tea,” he grumbled.

To his shock, Hange chuckled, shaking their head, biting their lip as they held back a knowing smile.

“Aww, Shortie… don’t give yourself away.”

“Huh?”

“Espresso. That’s the song you were humming.” Their grin widened. “I’m starting to think you’re not just listening to new artists—you’re watching new people.”

Levi stiffened.

And for the first time, he couldn’t hide the subtle embarrassed blush creeping up his face.

“Get off my ass,” he muttered, already walking away.

But Hange wasn’t done.

“And I think it might be Erwin’s cute little influencer friend!”

I won't say anything else, let the readers figure it out.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there in irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING  

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.  

You didn’t notice him watching you.  

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.  

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.  

He felt something tighten in his chest.  

God, you made him feel strange.  

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.  

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.  

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.  

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.  

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.  

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?  

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.  

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.  

His response came almost immediately.  

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.  

You: Are you sure? 

Pedro: Obviously.  

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.  

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.  

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.  

Pedro noticed.  

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.  

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.  

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.  

And then, of course, there was the teasing.  

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.  

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."  

He smirked. "Clearly."  

"Don’t judge me."  

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

Your heart stuttered.  

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.  

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.  

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.  

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.  

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."  

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."  

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.  

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.  

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.  

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”  

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.  

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.  

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.  

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."  

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."  

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."  

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.  

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.  

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.  

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.  

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.  

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."  

You told yourself not to react.  

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.  

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.  

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”  

You had only sighed. “I know.”  

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.  

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.  

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”  

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”  

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.  

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”  

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.  

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.  

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.  

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”  

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.  

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.  

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”  

His brows knit together. “You okay?”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”  

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”  

Pedro didn’t look convinced.  

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.  

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.  

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.  

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.  

Neither of you spoke for a moment.  

Then—  

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.  

You hesitated.  

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.  

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.  

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”  

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”  

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”  

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.  

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.  

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.  

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”  

Cecilia.  

You felt your whole body go rigid.  

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.  

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”  

You swallowed hard.  

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.  

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.  

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”  

The implication was clear.  

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.  

But then—  

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”  

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”  

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.  

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”  

Cecilia’s smile faltered.  

It was subtle, but you caught it.  

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.  

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”  

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.  

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.  

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.  

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”  

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”  

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.  

Warm. Steady.  

Grounding.  

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.  

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.  

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”  

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”  

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”  

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”  

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”  

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”  

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”  

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.  

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”  

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”  

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.  

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”  

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”  

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”  

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.  

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.  

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.  

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.  

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.  

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”  

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”  

Pedro stopped walking.  

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.  

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”  

You swallowed.  

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.  

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.  

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.  

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”  

A lump formed in your throat.  

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”  

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.  

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.  

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.  

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.  

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.  

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”  

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”  

You snorted. “So dramatic.”  

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”  

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.  

Your stomach flipped.  

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”  

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”  

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”  

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”  

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.  

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.  

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.  

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”  

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”  

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”  

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”  

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”  

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”  

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—  

“Do you want me to talk to her?”  

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”  

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”  

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”  

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”  

Something in you wavered.  

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”  

Your breath hitched.  

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.  

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”  

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”  

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”  

“Unfortunately.”  

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”  

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.  

“Hey,” he murmured.  

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.  

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”  

Something tightened in your chest.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”  

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.  

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”  

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”  

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”  

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”  

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”  

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.  

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.  

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.  

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.  

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.  

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.  

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.  

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”  

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[boytumms]

A knight errant goes on a quest to slay a monster... and quickly finds himself in *way* over his head as the monster captures him, takes him to its lair, and proceeds to force its massive member into his ass and fuck him brutally

Still, the knight manages to escape once when the monster goes hunting, and carries on as if nothing happened. No one need ever know of his failure, right? He returns to the halls of his knightly order, continues to live and train with his fellow knights, goes on quests more suited to his level of skill, lies and hides the whole incident

Except... his belly begins to swell. It doesn't take him too long to figure out that the monster's seed took and now something's growing inside him. He can hide it for a while, but not forever. He can't afford to commission a new suit of armor with room for his belly when his old one starts feeling too tight and constrictive and it gets harder and harder to get the straps closed and buckled. Even if he could afford it, people would notice.

He realizes quickly that he has only two options - either to tell people what happened, to expose his lies and dishonor and weakness, risk becoming a target for ridicule and maybe even being cast out of the order... or, to ride out on his own, supposedly to seek a new quest, and then flee and hide somewhere deep in the wilderness, live out there for the rest of the pregnancy, and then afterwards return and continue to lie and pretend like none of this ever happened.

He feels like he's been lying too long to stop anymore, there's no way he can admit to what happened. So he takes his armor and weapons, and some supplies, and rides off alone, going to hide in some abandoned half-ruined castle far off deep in the woods, thinking that surely he'll be fine for a few months, right?

and so the exact same arrogance and certainty that he'll be fine that got him into trouble in the first place is going to betray him again

The poor knight quickly finds out he underestimated just how hard it'd be to carry a whole litter of half-monsters and give birth to them all alone, but by the time he understands that, it's too late and he can no longer return. Then again, maybe that's a fitting penance for his lies and foolishness and arrogance

(yeah can you tell that i've gone down a medieval literature and chivalry romance rabbithole recently? lol)

Just when he's at his most vulnerable state, alone and defenceless as he struggles through the throes of labor, the monster that impregnated him appears. Attracted by the sent of his broken waters and sweaty laboring body, it's returned to collect it's offspring.

It paws and nuzzles at his swollen belly, pressing deep into his flesh, feeling them move through his thin skin. The monsters young writhe and kick wildly as if they sense their father waiting for their birth, eager to meet them. Their squirming suddenly increases, and the pain makes him scream and thrash, bucking his hips under the unbearable pressure as the young all but rip their way through his tight hole. After many hours of screaming, crying, and pushing, the last baby finally slides out of his body, joining its ten siblings on the cold stone floor.

The poor knight is so weak and exhausted from pushing out the monsters huge litter, he's unable to fight back as he feels it flip him over and start to fuck him. He sobs and pleads it to stop, not to fill him again, but there's nothing he can do to stop it from bloating his belly with cum as he claws at the ground and wails.

The monster takes its young and leaves the knight on the cold floor, belly heavy and swollen with seed, doomed to carry litter after litter knowing he'll never be able to return to his kingdom again

[notforpenance]

Hey! This is for the askgame, because I’m sure that I’d love any recommendation from you :)

💖 a fic you recently read, loved and why!

💗 a fic you’ve reread again and again and why!

my tastes can be a little all over the place, so i hope some of these interest you C: i wanted to do one carcar and one lestappen for each but then i found like five lestappen fics i wanted to say so you get a few more than one.

💖 a fic you recently read, loved and why!

You'll Just Have to Remind Me by the_e_sea (t, carcar, memory loss) this fic is still in progress, but so far, I'm loving it. carlos has antiretrograde amnesia which means he wakes up every day thinking it is the same as the day before, and he keeps going to the convenience store every night where oscar works to buy dryer sheets. oscar begins to realize that there's something a little strange about the same guy buying dryer sheets every single night and engaging him in the exact same conversation each time. when i first started it i was a little confused as to how it could be carcar if carlos never remembers what has happened during his day but the dynamic is carried out so well and it feels really natural and lifelike. definitely recommend it, i'm excited to see more of this one.

blood chem by @sediciii (e, lestappen, vampire, roommates) i'm a sucker for vampire fics (pun intended). this one is probably my favorite i have ever read. it's a lestappen oneshot. max is a vampire, and charles is his all-too-willing-to-help roommate. max looks forward to charles coming back to the room so that he can feed, and charles looks forward to letting max feed for... other reasons. it's very sexy and a little soft, and i love the dynamic between the two of them

💗 a fic you’ve reread again and again and why!

purpose in you by @charlescoded (e, lestappen, arranged marriage, dune au) it's a lestappen dune au oneshot. if you know about dune, charles is a member of the benegesserit and max takes on like a feyd-rautha-type role, and they have an arranged marriage. it got posted right when i was watching the second dune movie for the first time, so it was perfect timing to hook me in. i wish there were more fics in dune au because i feel like that universe has a lot to offer. i cannot express enough how much i am absolutely obsessed with this piece. it is written at a level of writing quality i can only aspire to ever write in my lifetime. the whole piece is entirely enthralling. it is the second part of the series, but this is the one i always reread. the first part is breeding grounds

Ruckus by @tylersayscool (e, lestappen, dystopian battle royale) let me start by saying that everything I've read from this author is so good, i highly recommend checking her out if you haven't already. this one is my favorite, here's the description because i don't think i can do it justice. "The students are taken to a deserted island, fitted with explosive collars, and given random weapons. They are instructed to kill each other until only one survivor remains. If no one is killed within a set time period, the collars will detonate, killing everyone." this fic has such a chokehold on me that i literally was quoting sections in my journal and dissecting them in like essay length entries LOL. the writing is so high quality and the plot is so interesting and unique.

Open my mouth, on my knees (for you) by @lovelylotusf1 (e, carcar) a little less than a year ago i was scrolling through the second round of F1 Kinkmeme submissions looking for oneshots to read and i found this one. funfact: my one fic "you're too sweet for me" was originally supposed to be a lestappen fic and then i read this piece and i was like 'damn i wanna write carcar' and i switched it to that instead. this is a carcar oneshot. here's the description: "Oscar has to deal with the consequences of a drunken confession he sent to Carlos. He gets more than he bargained for." i keep coming back to it because it has such a special place in my heart.

okay i will stop rambling now! there are a few more i would've thrown in but this is already super long i feel like, so i hope some of these are fresh for you to enjoy C:

[fatedroses]

More than just the Demon.

[lemongogo]

need 2 find myself again in 2025 . tbhwu

[marley-manson]

it's very funny to me that when Mash got super into characters manipulating their friends to prank them as subplot fodder, Hawkeye's like the only one who never gets a plot like this.

Hawkeye, champion gaslighter and manipulator extraordinaire of the first three seasons, a dude who invented a whole person to defraud the military out of thousands of dollars, a dude who gaslighted a colonel into early retirement, and a dude who took out two(2) healthy appendixes, among plenty of other schemes, never uses his frankly legendary skills for evil

you get plots where Charles or BJ pit their friends against each other for ther own amusement, where the entire rest of the cast works together to drive Hawkeye into a fit of paranoia, Potter terrorizing our faves with a grand manipulation scheme in one episode, and plenty more where BJ works to turn the camp against Hawkeye for fun, but I can't think of a single subplot where Hawkeye does anything similar to anyone who isn't an antagonist.

he has a few revenge pranks on BJ in the episode tags, but these are basic straightforward ones that don't involve gaslighting or manipulation, just shaving half his moustache or letting him wake up naked in the nurse's tent. His pranks in April Fools were straightforward and boring as far as I remember without rewatching. Bombshells could almost qualify except convincing everyone Marilyn Monroe was coming was a total accident, Hawkeye just made an offhand joke that snowballed.

I think the closest he comes is the revenge prank he, BJ, and Margaret pull on Charles in An Eye For a Tooth to make him feel guilty, and he's only one of three people involved in that.

And lol I think the reason is because later Mash prefers Hawkeye to be a pathetic victim rather than an impressive mastermind, but it sure has the accidental side effect of making him come across as a much better friend. Like we know he has the chops to make BJ a social pariah in revenge after an episode like Bottom's Up, but he'll stick to something lighthearted because he reserves those schemes for psychiatrists trying to section him, or colonels trying to get people killed, or Frank.

[waywardsalt]

bc its been bouncing around in my head i think another little tiny grievance i had with totk is that i got to the end and just felt a sense of ‘well what the hell was that all for then’

[maybege]

btw i am still alive now that i have recovered from swiftkirchen and i hope you are all doing super well this summer! i am FLYING through my reading list atm which is amazing and i am feeling more and more inspired for things (footballer!paz anyone? roommate!paz as well maybe?) so hmu in the inbox it is TIME TO THIRST

[burningcomputerpersona]

ahhhhhhhh guess who made the mistake of getting a haircut

[todayisafridaynight]

At which point did you realise that the plot of IW is ass? I've seen people complain only about the ending or the halfway point where the teams separate, while I was already actively rolling my eyes like four-five chapters in

i think the moment i fully accepted that IW's story was. Definitely A Story was the moment ebina announced 'bleach japan'. like i think leading up to that point i was thinking to myself 'oh i hope i see X happen' or being like 'i wonder where this is going' and that sort but the proverbial bucket of ice was definitely that moment

[onrainynights]

I'm about to be so annoying btw

[dandyshucks]

trying desperately to keep up w how all the moots are doing but i feel like so many ppl keep disappearing when im not around and i feel very sad about it :(