#but that only really makes sense in the first storyline of his

[miwiheroes]

Day 38: Something's Not Adding Up...

Remember, the analysis posts where they have "Day 35 etc etc" are going to be going on my byler slides

So my last byler slides post on here was to do with the lightning flashes and the imagery created from El being in the UD. I am going to be continuing to make posts on the love monologue from here on out its going to be...interesting as there is just soooo much to unpack. Today's is going to be about the fact there are lots of things that Mike says in the monologue that don't add up. There were so many other words that the Duffers could have written into the monologue to make it more convincing, but they didn't.

Straight off the bat, some people might not be convinced that Mike is lying in the first place and never will be. Unfortunately for you, one of the main themes in Season 4 is lying. SO many characters lie to each other at every single turn. However, this theme is especially very very present in the Willelmike love triangle. Lying isn't so much a theme during El's lab storyline, on her part, but whenever she's associated with the love triangle's storyline, she is associated with that theme.

Every single character in the love triangle is lying about something, and they do these things during monologues:

El lies about her life in Lenora during her letter monologue.

Will lies about his feelings towards Mike being El's in his painting monologue.

Mike lies about how he feels towards El in his love monologue.

Another main theme in Season 4 is the fact that they don't win. It was a shock for the audience when they weren't necessarily successful and didn't kill the Big Bad, just like the other seasons. Many things were unsuccessful and unsatisfying. Max's heart stops despite her fighting so hard. This theme can clearly be seen in all the monologues near the end of the show.

Funnily enough, all the monologues' aims are unsatisfying in the end because of the lies in them:

El's lies are found out and then cause her and Mike to have a huge fight.

Will's lies and self-sacrifice and his words about Mike being the heart means that he (in his mind) loses Mike to El forever.

Mike's lies means that 4 gates open in Hawkins because Max's heart stopped.

And this makes total sense because the show's main mantra is literally: Friends don't lie. Meaning lies = bad, yeah

This is the rule of three in action. There is a clear rule of three seen from the fact they are all monologues, from each person in the triangle. Meaning they all need to follow the same pattern. So in this season....Will lies, El lies, Max lies, Lucas lies, Joyce lies and Mike......has no lies? Hm, not likely. So in this season.....Will's lies mean he loses Mike, El's lies are ultimately found out, and Mike's monologue......ends up unsuccessful. But why?

Because he lied.

We've established that due to the themes of the show, the pattern in the monologues, and Season 4's overall theme of them not winning. This just means to me that the love monologue while super important, was not supposed to be wholly truthful and this big positive thing.

Now we can unpack these lies:

The first is obviously the big 'I love you' moment. I would love to talk more about this specific phrase obviously, but I more go into why this is implied to be a negative thing rather than a positive in my other monologue post and my upcoming ones. Without the depth however, I can say that the audience is not supposed to be satisfied when they hear Mike say this. The lightning strikes, Mike's face, the fact Will is behind him in the background, El's face - they all point to that.

To me, this face he makes before saying it not only screams him thinking that he's about to lie, but it screams "i really don't want to do this but i have to otherwise she's going to die." It really feels like something bad is happening rather than something the audience is supposed to want, especially with Will in the background of the shot.

El do you hear me? I love you. I'm sorry I don't say it more. It's not because I'm scared of you. I'm not. I've never felt that way. Never.

Choosing to make him say "I'm sorry I don't say it more".....Hm.

The whole point of El's argument in Episode 3 is that he never says it. Mike then goes onto say "I say it" and El throws the fact that he can't write it in his face, like she thinks it's something that he can't even fake. Not only does he never say it, he never shows it. Just because you can't say it doesn't mean that you can't show it, Mike. That's one of the big reasons why El needs Mike to say it to her - because she just doesn't feel it from him. Ergo, he shouldn't be saying sorry for not saying it more. He should be sorry for not showing it more.

Mike is completely incapable of talking to El directly about anything of the romantic sort, because he knows it's lying, and he doesn't want to feel like he's lying because....that would incriminate himself to himself (if that makes sense). Instead, he tries to perform it to other people, make sure that other people are aware that he has a girilfriend, be more romantic with her in public rather than alone. Byler has many, many scenes by themselves where they have a satisfying intimate moment. In all of Milkvan's one-on-one scenes, Mike either stumbles over his words to refuse to force a romantic moment, just makes out with her, gets interrupted before doing anything satisfying, or argues with her.

The thing about him not being scared of her... I do believe that Mike is not scared of El harming him. He was upset and shocked that she harmed Angela because it went against his idealised version of her, despite her being in the right - this led to him making passive aggressive compliments and ignoring her for the rest of the day. His reactions was enough to remind El of Brenner. Her abusive father figure who was scared of her because he thought she killed these kids violently. This then led to her projecting her anxious attachment towards Brenner onto Mike again - but maybe that's for another post.

But I am scared that one day you're going to realise that you don't need me anymore. And I thought that if I said how I felt it would make that day....Hurt more.

The first sentence is funny because we heard him say something very similar in the van scene, which means that this portion is true. He really wants to be needed. I don't know why, but this rubs me the wrong way. It makes me feel like El just began to attach herself to Mike because she was definitely not independent herself, since he gives her love sometimes and takes it away the next moment. Mike only liking the fact that she needs him is...interesting because he never says that he needs her. Wants her. Loves her? This is just an unequal relationship, as Mike has stated as one of his main insecurities when talking about it with Will.

He just wants El to feel these things that he himself does not. He wants someone to need him. That is how he wants to be loved. But the thing is....El realises that she doesn't need him to say I love you during the lab arc. My next post on the monologue will touch on El's arc more, and the fact that her needing Mike to say I love you was not because she loved him so much and wanted him to say it back. She just wanted to feel like she wasn't a total monster. But then she said to Brenner that she no longer thinks she is. So yes, Mike, she doesn't need you anymore.

But you know who does need Mike? Will. Will loves Mike in the exact way that Mike wants to be loved, which is. not. a coincidence.

But the truth is El I don't know how to live without you. I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods.

While this sentence is not nice, don't worry, because I do believe one of the main reasons it's there is to make the audience angry. There are so many fucking shots of Will during the monologue, just to remind you of him, to remind you how much this monologue is hurting him, to remind you that these words are only happening because of him. I will be, again, talking more about this in an upcoming post.

Saying I don't know how to live without you is not proof that he loves her. I'm sure you can imagine that why this suggests that their attachment to one another is unhealthy. It is true, that he doesn't know what to do if he loses her, which is exactly why he is saying these things to win her back. Not because he loves her.

The second sentence, again, is very false and codependent as well. Saying that your life depends on someone else....uh. This also contradicts what Mike had said about stumbling on her in the woods not being fate, not being destiny, but dumb luck. Instead of an active choice that he made, just like with Will when he says that meeting him and asking him to be his friend is the best thing he ever did, it's something that he'd never meant to do.

One of the biggest differences between Mike's speech in Season 2 and Mike's speech in Season 4 is the fact that his speech in S2 instantly breaks through to Will, there is no music, it's extremely intimate. When Will says in his Van speech that Mike gives El the courage to fight on, Mike takes that and therefore gains the belief that he is the one that needs to tell her he loves her even if he doesn't, in order for her to fight on. WHEN REALLY it's Will. The proof is in the pudding:

You were wearing that yellow Benny's Burgers T-shirt and it was so big it almost swallowed you whole.

Meaningless line that deadass has no point to it, other than to remind El of a memory that he thinks is good for her. This is the only time that she smiles/laughs a little, before going back to looking upset again. This is so weird - "You were wearing a yellow shirt so I loved you". I could talk about how the colour yellow is so obviously associated with Will, but honestly, I don't know if that's a reach or not.

And I knew right there and then , in that moment, that I loved you. And I've loved you every day since.

And this ladies and germs, is the Biggest Lie. Why did the writers feel the need to have Mike emphasise the fact that he knew. right then and there. in that moment. ?

It's because..... They really wanted us to notice that they were talking about LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT which can be proven wrong by going back and rewatching the show. They really wanted no one to make an excuse and say that maybe Mike didn't actually know then. HE SAID HE KNEW.

"Maybe he just meant a little later." HE SAID RIGHT THERE AND THEN. IN THAT MOMENT.

This is why I believe the writers only put this line in to make the audience actually question the truthfulness of the whole monologue. They could have had Mike easily talk about the moment he fell in love with El. That would have been just as romantic, but no, they made it something to be provably wrong. On purpose.

Now, we have a lot of evidence from the show itself to prove that when Mike met with El, he did not love her instantly:

In the trailer for Season 1, they show Mike finding El. The first thing he says, portraying what his first thoughts were, was "That's not Will." - at the time of making the trailer, the creators had already filmed and written the season. So they knew what they were doing putting this in the trailer.

Mike cared about her and took her in, but was completely ready to prioritise Will instead - he said to Dustin and Lucas that the reason they couldn't show their parents who they had found was because they'd be on house arrest. He then tells them that he can get El to talk to his mom and his mom can "send her back to Pennhurst or wherever she comes from. And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time, we find Will." This shows that his main priority was finding Will. He's a little careless about El at this point. He emphasises find Will! because he wants to state that he'd never meant to find El.

The next morning, Mike comes down to feed her and then asks her to go to the front and pretend like she's never met him before so that his mom can help her. She refuses. He then realises that she might be in trouble, and when she says there are, that's when he decides to keep her.

From this point onwards, he's somewhat indifferent towards her, showing her around the house, like he's teaching a toddler/ alien life force what his house is like. To me, this is not love. Mike's excitement seems more like friendship, care for another person, or just that he made this scientific discovery. When El points Will's photo - that's when he really takes priority in hiding her and keeping her. The very next scene is him hiding her in the closet (lol) - the scenes are back to back so that you don't need to question whether Mike hides her because he wants to be friends or hides her because he needs her to find Will.

The only time that Mike began to get the idea that his care for El might be romantic is because of Lucas. He was the one to say that he should 'marry her', aka a very heteronormative 80s, nuclear family thing. Mike seems annoyed that Lucas is doing this, but he is genuinely confused - not shy. He seems fed up. The moment after this conversation, he learns that being queer is a bad thing from the bullies, therefore making Lucas's daydream more of a preferable thing. Read more about this here.

Okay so that's some of the evidence from the show, but I guess we don't have to take all of that as complete evidence, because that may be up to interpretation (not really but whatever).

There is some evidence from sources outside the show too:

This is direct evidence from the show's writers that they do not believe in love at first sight - aka why the hell would they write something into the show that they do not believe in?

Above here is where Finn was asked about how 'strong' Milkvan are and about the confession. Keep in mind he was asked about the confession as the last thing. With this, Finn chose to specifically talk about how Mike didn't forsee himself to be in any kind of romantic relationship - this was something that he was insecure about. Saying romance was not on his mind even initially when he found eleven, is crazy fucking work. This had caused a lot of Milkvan's arguments to change from "Mike said he loved El at first sight!" to "Mike never meant at very first sight, just the next day or something! He was just being hyperbolic!". Girl. He literally said in his speech - Right there, in that moment. It was emphasised to you. Hyperbole would have been: "I knew in that moment that I loved you more than I love life itself" or something. Learn the definition of a hyperbole.

I also love how Finn expresses that Mike's feelings towards El are similar to how Elliott felt towards ET - which was obviously not romantic love. This is Finn explaining away all the seemingly romantic behaviour that Mike has towards her in the beginning of S1. Thankyou for that <3

(Also can we talk about how he said its his first romantic feelings for someone like we get it, he's not going to stay with El.... "going into to s5", "still a couple going into it" - OKAY WE GET IT HEEHEE)

It's so funny because all this fucking evidence I just showed you can be completely made null and void if Mike had simply said something like "I've loved you since *other moment*" "I fell in love with you that week." But no. It was a provable lie.

I love you on your good days I love you on your bad days.

Saying this stuff can't possibly mean he actually shows it. Just saying that you love someone on your good days and bad days doesn't actually mean you do, or that you're showing it. The whole reason that El wants Mike to actually say it is 1. because she needs reassurance that she's not a monster, and 2. because she doesn't feel the love coming from Mike whenever she's having a 'bad day'.

In my opinion, the only reason why he says these things is because he wants her to survive. He thinks this will make her happy because he's remembering what he did wrong - even if it's not true.

Consistently, from Season 1 onwards, he doesn't show that he loves her or consistently shows affection towards her even when she's doing something that he doesn't like:

Season 1: Only shows care for her when she's helping him find Will or saving him with her powers. Says 'What is wrong with you' three times. The first two are when Mike thinks that Will has died and therefore thinks that El lied to him, his anger and sadness mix into this lashing out. He says it again when she attacks Lucas.

Season 2: Has a very idealised version of her due to his guilt and so doesn't think of her as a bad person at all - this then fuels the fact he puts her on a pedestal, therefore making him more likely to take away that love as soon as she doesn't hold up to his standards. He doesn't see her this season until the end.

Season 3: Shows extreme frustration at her behaviour when she breaks up with him. He calls her (and girls in general) a "different species", says that he doesn't understand what he's done to deserve this despite not explaining anything to her, and says that he is the victim in this situation. He believes himself a victim of her wrath or something. This isn't even him lashing out because he's upset or sad, because he seems perfectly happy to have fun with Lucas as if this isn't a serious situation.

Season 4: Oh boy. Again, he has this idealised version of her in his head. Now that she doesn't have powers, El feels the need to perform for him again, making herself seem like she has the perfect life. As soon as she deviates from this perfect image, Mike is cold towards her. He says "what did you do" when she attacks Angela, and this is paralleled within the show with her abusive father figure (hello??). He then ignores her when she is clearly upset, and says rude comments at dinner, not caring when she storms off. He begins to try and apologise, but as soon as he's attacked for his incriminating behaviour he gaslights her by blaming other people for their problems, and calls her ridiculous. Again, he tries to place her on his pedestal that she can't reach by calling her a superhero.

I love you with and without your powers. I love you for exactly who you are. You're my superhero.

The last time that El was called a superhero by Mike, where she realised that she was never going to be enough for him unless she can be of benefit to him:

And the same exact thing in the love confession, though this time, El knows that she is not a monster, knows that she doesn't need Mike to think she's a superhero.

Mike constantly talks about how El is a superhero or his superhero - this just shows that he went from point A in the third episode to.....point A again??? The difference here is the fact that Mike used the fact she's a superhero as 'proof' that he loves her when they first argued in her bedroom, even though he didn't want to say it. Even when he seems to want to tell her i love you, he still uses this excuse as if he needs extra proof.

Another thing about the superhero thing is that it directly contrasts to Will and Mike's dynamic. Mike seems very happy to be working with Will as a team when he talks to him earlier in the season.

He would much rather work with someone as a team than work under them as their inferior. He literally expresses to Will about how insecure he feels surrounding El's superpowers and how he doesn't feel special or needed - and yet he somehow uses this as a reason to love her.

HE HAS SEVERELY POOR SELF-ESTEEM if he is using something that makes him feel worse about himself as proof that he loves her. The big difference between Milkvan and Byler is that Mike is not on the same level as El, so they never work as a team. Mike has expressed his preference for working as a team with Will.

This part of the confession is also very different from the argument scene because he is calling her "MY superhero" rather than just a superhero. This may seem more romantic on the surface, but to me it just proves how much he places her on a pedestal for her powers and how they benefit him and increase her positive image only. The next thing he does is talk about her powers, nothing to do with her personality, nothing to do with her bravery or anything like that. Awful wording from Mike.

And.....I can't lose you. Ok do you hear me I can't lose you.

This....is not a lie. Absolutely not - and that's what makes the rest of the lies so plausible. I don't need to elaborate that much on how attached he feels to El, how much he doesn't want to lose her because he wants to feel needed by someone, as a result of his poor self-esteem. More proof that he's saying all these because he doesn't want her to die, and he feels responsible for her life time and time again.

You can do anything , you can fly you can move mountains I believe that. I really do. But right now you just have to fight.

Wasn't the whole point of El's fucking argument that she can't do anything sometimes!!!! Putting El on a pedestal and claiming that she can actually do things they can't, exaggerating her powers to the point where its unrealistic, will just make El feel bad that she can't do those things. It will make her feel even more that Mike doesn't love her for who she is, but rather the idea of her.

His inflated idea of her is fuelled by the things that she has done for him, which include getting Will back from the Upside Down, it includes her saving him, it includes her defeating the mind flayer. His idea of her became so inflated during Season 2 when he couldn't see her, so much so that when she doesn't live up to that, you can clearly see that he acts cold. This is not love, even if it was, it's not fucking healthy.

Now, this is the point of the monologue where El looks over at Max. Up to this point, the vines have not stopped tightening around her throat, despite Mike trying his best to make her focus.

The fact that they put this image over Mike saying "you need to fight" is to portray El's reason for fighting. It is portraying the fact that the only reason she is able to fight is because she is reminded by the fact Max is in danger, and reminded by Mike that the only thing important right now is that she needs to stay alive.

However you read Mike's sexuality as, it is a fact that his love for El isn't romantic. He cares about her, he has a clear idea of who he wants her to be, and idealises that version. Whenever she doesn't live up to it, he takes it away. Her character arc means that she realises she doesn't need this in order to survive. I hope you can see the sheer amount of lies, vamping, him not wanting her to die, the ideas he has about her and think that they are not healthy.

This was such a long ass post, forgive me tumblr gods.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

One thing that most fans of the show do is leap into conclusions that are not really implied anywhere or make any sense whatsoever, just so they can justify how “genius” the storytelling is. I kid you not, in most social media spaces they’re are lots of viral posts of people saying they saw the Kerri scene as a foreshadowing to Rogue One in the sense that he found a sister in Jyn (not that she’s actually Kerri but she’s a “representation” of her role on his life) which is not only dumb but also cheapens the narrative from both the show and the movie - not to mention this weird idea that women are all interchangeable and replaceable. But they can all pat themselves on the back to say how smart they are for “figuring it out”, while calling everyone else “media illiterate” with their full chests.

Oh God, the Kerri thing is so frustrating. I'm actually not super shocked that people who are desperate to like the show are making up stuff in their head about it. Because uh, let's look at the facts here:

Kerri is central to the opening of the show. A lot of people who barely cared about Cassian in R1 are basically introduced to him as "the guy who is looking for his lost sister". In a brothel, of course, because this isn't your dad's Star Wars! We look at all the ways in which the world is real and that means mostly implying nonconsensual sex with Latina women, apparently. Anyway.

Cassian is really intense about finding out her whereabouts in that scene. We see how he has made himself extremely unsafe to follow up this lead. This must be really important to him! Next, even as we mostly deal with the fallout of the cop killings, the show gives us a whole scene to introduce us to who Kerri is and why Cassian feels so badly about not having found her. Again, this must be really important to him!

And it's not just in the moral or interpersonal implications, by the way. It's also that we as the audience are introduced to Kerri with a scene that took a considerable part of the budget to film. Most people will not think about that consciously, but this still lets you assume "oh, this scene looks important!". It's in a completely new setting (jungle/forest setting. expensive to film. you have to lug all your equipment and cast and crew to the location). It's all-new, child actors in elaborate costume (for real, this looks expensive. filming with kids is notoriously expensive because of work-hour constraints, they had to cast all these kids, and make all those costumes and put them in make-up etc.). The planet has wide-shots with fully animated landscapes (again, looks expensive!). And then the planet has its own language. And all the child actors are speaking it. Someone got paid to create that language, and all these kids had to be taught that language, which I assume is paid work-time for them?

So, again. Wow, this girl must be really important to the plot of the show I've just started watching! ...nope.

Halfway through the first season, we get that one really strange line from Maarva, telling Cassian without any prompting not to look for his sister anymore, because she's for sure dead. I think all this was is a lazy fix when they realised at the end of the season they had completely forgotten about that whole plot line. But because it's so weird and sudden and we have been so primed to keep an eye out for this plotline, I straight up assumed she knew something she wasn't telling him, and this was going to become plot relevant. But no, Maarva dies off-screen and we never look back at Kerri this season. Huh.

There was a way to spin dropping this storyline completely, and they were clearly trying to go that route: Since they're so dead-set on telling us that losing Cassian Andor was a tragedy to the galaxy and he sacrificed all his potential on the altar of being a Force-sent messenger (in the strangest read on Rogue One's message I could have ever imagined), I think they were going for making Kerri's fate part of his tragic loss. Implying that, if only he had survived Scarif, he could have found his sister!

The trouble with that is that with the exception of the literal first scene, the show completely fails to convince me that Cassian is even trying to find her, or thinking about her at all after the first arc of the show. When he meets Luthen, we learn he was out of prison and out of the fight in his late teens. And yet, he makes a complete fool of himself when trying to find out about Kerri a decade later. This is not a man who has spent the past ten years doggedly searching for his sister! This is an idiot who got a lead for the first time and is fumbling it! And they clearly knew how to do visual shorthand of "Cassian is haunted by his little sister" - show her in brief flashbacks intermittently! But they immediately stop bothering to do that, so she disappears from his narrative completely. The only time someone brings her up is when Bix refers to her during a fight, to pay lip service to how he maybe feels like he failed to protect Kerri and is projecting on Bix. But that's such a stretch, because he was taken away from his sister against his will - yes, he may feel, irrationally, that it was still somehow his fault. There is a way to read him remembering her asking him to take her with him as that. But when you've invested so little time into it, that's a pretty big stretch and lot of telling instead of showing going on. And he doesn't even react to it!! He seems completely uninterested in the topic of his sister!

And then, maybe in the attempt to somehow turn their dangling thread into a tragic missed opportunity for Cassian, they briefly splice a shot of her into the final episode montage. But it fell completely flat for me. We haven't heard about Kerri in half a season. We have not seen evidence that Cassian has wasted a single thought on her in literal years. Why is he thinking of her now? What are we supposed to connect this to? Maybe saving Kleya made him think, well, at least I saved that one? If so, I genuinely don't like that, because it makes the case that Cassian sees all women in his life as vulnerable, exchangeable damsels whose fate depends on him saving them. Which could be an interesting character trait! I've actually used that in my own fic! But you can't suggest that at the end of your show and then move on - unless you think that's a correct view of the world and you, the writer, have nothing to add to it... almost like... you don't think of women as complex three-dimensional people...

Also, "Jyn reminds him of his sister" is a wild take. This woman is presented to him in shackles with a laundry list of crimes and has just knocked his buddy out with a shovel. She steals a gun from him and says the mission is only fair if she has equal means to murder him as he does her. Impossible to distinguish this from his angelic little sister, who we know absolutely nothing about except that she was cute and tiny and is probably dead! Then he watches Jyn be competent in both defending herself from imperial violence and dealing with extremist - both things that Kerri emphatically couldn't because she was a child, which is why he may feel like he is at fault for not protecting her. Then they have a difference of political and philosophical opinions. Pretty unlikely this reminded him of his pre-school-age sister? Then he's clearly shown being flustered and elated and affected by her physical presence in a way that I would find deeply concerning re: "spiritual sister".

(Look, we all know why a certain group of people is so adamant to connect Kerri and Jyn. They're trying to put Jyn in some kind of sibling category so that it becomes "gross" and "out of character" to imagine Cassian having a thing for her, because they feel that possibility would threaten their read on the character and his relationship with his ex.)

But the thing that is the most frustrating about dropping Kerri completely is that, again, they primed us to believe she and Kenari were going to be extremely important. They leaned on it hard in the promotion, too, about Cassian being "a migrant" or "a refugee" and all that lipservice to Mexico-US relations... and it went nowhere. It wasn't important at all. It wasn't a main part of the plot and we never saw it being a motivator for Cassian. And, what's worse - finding Kerri was the only thing we've ever seen Cassian do because he chose to. In the whole show. (One could maybe count rekindling his relationship with Bix, except... he did that off camera. We didn't see it. And when he did try to choose her, she didn't let him.) It's the one stated goal he had, it's how we are introduced to the character, and the show fucking forgot about it. That is terrible writing.

[ulteri0rm0tives]

WORST part of replaying this game. Is that i actually *have* to progress through (most of) it to see Kerry again... Like having to wade through little chocolate gold colds to get to the real shit that ACTUALLY matters.

It actually sucks you meet him so late in the game and only get so much time with him :( especially because I (personally) find his romance and plotline to be one of the more developed slash more enjoyable ones and I just :( wish they gave us more time with him ugh I jUST MISS HIM OKAY GUYS I MISS THIS OLD MAN!!!

[darabeatha]

[arrenjo]

Summary: You meet Jack Abbot during a terrible shift as a nurse in labor and delivery.

Notes: After a really shitty shift, this is my coping mechanism. All similarities are coincidences, this is not an actual patient/situation that I have had but rather a mix of many. This is a separate storyline from the Robby series!!

Trigger/content warning: perinatal/intrapartum loss, loss of a child, infant loss (trying to tag/mention words appropriately so that people who have it filtered don’t see the post; the content warning only applies to the first few paragraphs)

You needed air, you needed out of the unit. Your chest felt heavy like you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t lose your composure right here. Ultrasound techs, residents, other nurses from the postpartum unit, and your coworkers were all gathered around in an attempt to debrief what had just happened.

You were a part of the worst day of someone’s life, the day they lost a child, and that always weighed so heavily on you, but this one, this one didn’t make sense. Baby was fine until she wasn’t, you rushed her mom to the OR to get the baby out, but the NICU team worked her for an hour and never got a blip of a pulse. A complete concealed abruption was the cause.

“Need a minute,” You said suddenly and got up out of your chair and headed out of the unit, you felt eyes on you but you didn’t care. You took long, quick strides towards the staircase and up the stairwell onto the roof, your vision getting blurrier by the second. By the time you were crossing the roof, tears were streaming down your face. You ducked under the railing and sat parallel to the roof’s edge, pulling your knees to your chest. The cold air stung your lungs as you sobbed, able to let go now that there was no one around. You don’t know exactly how long you cried for, but when the tears stopped flowing you rested your head on your knees, looking out over the skyline. Your back hurt and you were starting to shiver, it was 4 am in Pittsburgh in November, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You contemplated staying up here until your shift was over at 7, but surely someone would come looking by then.

You didn’t so much as move as the door to the roof opened, you were composed enough now to deal with your coworkers. You stayed in the same position, you weren’t ready to go back in just yet.

“Must be that kind of night,” A man said from behind you, leaning forward on the railing from the opposite side. Not a voice you were expecting. You turned to look at him briefly. He was older, salt and pepper curls and a black scrub top mostly hidden by a black zip up hoodie, you turned back to the skyline.

“A really fucking shitty one?” You countered

“A really fucking shitty one.” He agreed.

“Labor and delivery isn’t supposed to be shitty,” You said, not to him or to anyone in particular, really to just get it out of your system.

“Yeah, but when it is, it’s really shitty…” The man trailed and you were both silent for a moment. “How long have you worked L&D?” He asked.

“Five years. It’s been sad at times, for sure, but what just happened literally doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Your voice broke on ‘sense’ and you laid your forehead on your knees, willing yourself to keep it together. You had the patient volumes, you had seen some real shit, but this one was hard. You felt warmth over your back and arms, he had taken his jacket off and draped it over you.

“I’m really okay,” You said, starting to shrug his jacket off.

“I can see you shivering from here.” He retorted. You paused and closed your eyes, taking another deep breath. His jacket was warm and it smelled heavenly, it was comforting. Coupled with the fact that you didn’t have the capacity to fight with anyone right now, you stayed silent. He leaned on the railing for several more minutes then ducked under the railing and sat down in front of you, your feet inches from his thigh. He stretched his feet out to almost touch the edge of the roof. He leaned back on one of the poles of the rail and he was staring at you when you finally looked back up at him.

“You alright?” He asked. You just barely nodded your head.

“I will be.” You rested your chin on your knees, taking in the man in front of you. You were both silent for a beat, the hum of the city a soft soundtrack from the roof.

“I’m Jack,” He stuck his hand out and introduced himself. You gave him a halfhearted smile and introduced yourself, shaking his hand.

“Thanks for not letting me freeze, Jack. Where do you work?” You could see his badge clipped on the neckline of his scrub top but couldn’t quite make it out in the dim lighting.

“ED,” He responded. You let out a soft laugh.

“Props, I could never.” You said, shaking your head. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Eh, it’s not all bad…” He trailed off, looking out to the skyline. He cocked his head to the side after a moment.

“Just most of it.” He deadpanned. You let out a small chuckle at his crack and he smiled at you.

“Gonna go back in?” He asked, nodding towards the door. You sighed and sat up to stretch.

“We could just hide out here until 7?” He suggested, pulling himself up to stand, you laughed.

“Though I’ve truly considered it, I figure it’ll probably be in my best interest to go back in at some point. Can’t give away our hiding spot, and they’ll definitely come looking.” You said with a slightly more relaxed smile. This night sucked, but the company you were in helped. He was sweet, genuinely concerned.

“Of course, gotta protect the hiding spot.” He said with a small grin. His face changed, a look of genuineness washed over his features as he extended a hand to help you up from the concrete rooftop.

“I’m sorry your night sucks.” He said, his voice soft. You gave him a tight lipped smile and took his hand, pulling yourself up. “Anything I can do for you?” He asked. This man was genuinely so sweet and seemed to care a lot about someone he had just met. The genuine kindness made your stomach flutter.

“No, you’ve actually already helped a lot, thank you.” You said with a small smile. “I’m sorry your night sucks too, but it was nice to meet you.” You added.

“It’s been a pleasure, come hide with me again, yeah?” He asked with a smirk, his tone almost playful.

“For sure, but under better circumstances next time.” You said with a grin and gave him a wink. You let your smile fall and let seriousness fall over your features again.

“I hope your night gets better.” You said softly.

“You too,” he said with a tight lipped smile.

After a moment, you ducked under the railing and started towards the door, turning to look back at him one more time. You caught him watching you walk away and smiled, immediately turning back around and ducking your head so he didn’t see you blush. You tucked your hair behind your ear and opened the door to the stairwell, heading back to your unit.

By the time you swiped your badge to enter the unit, the slew of people had dispersed, which you were grateful for.

“You good?” One of your coworkers asked as you passed her in the hallway. You nodded,

“Better, thanks.” You said with a small smile. “Hey, do you know wh-“

The shrill sound of the staff assist alarm cut you off. You spun on your heel and sprinted in the direction of the alarm. When you got to the patient’s room, she was obviously post-seizure and disoriented. She was combative and screaming about someone trying to kill her.

Two nurses were working on putting her in soft restraints, you took the place of another younger nurse who was frozen in place, asking her to go get medication to help calm the patient down and to call the doctor. You turned to look at the patient when you felt a sharp pain around your eye socket. The patient had slipped out of one of the restraints and you were at perfect height for her elbow to collide with your eye in the midst of her flailing. You staggered backwards, your vision immediately blurry, and fell to the floor.

“Fuck,” you groaned, your hand reaching to cover your eye. You touched something wet and looked at your fingers. Blood.

“Oh, shit.” you heard, and in a flurry, everyone was around you. You were put into a wheelchair and wheeled out of the room. Someone at some point handed you an ice pack. You hissed as you put it to your eye.

“You have to go down to the ER,” someone said from behind you.

“I’ll take her,” another person volunteered.

“No, I’m fine.” You objected. Your head hurt like a bitch but other than that, you were good.

“I already called a code medic, they’re on the way” Another voice chimed in.

“Oh fuck me,” You groaned and leaned your head back. “I’m really fine, tell them to go away.” You insisted, closing your eyes.

“Oh, I’m gonna pretend my feelings aren’t hurt,” a familiar voice said. Your eyes snapped open to Jack crouching in front of you, already assessing. Two things dawned on you in that moment: you were still wearing his jacket, and he was a doctor.

Nothing was wrong with being a doctor, but they usually weren’t as kind or as caring as Jack had been to you on the roof. Most of the doctors you worked with were real dicks to the nurses.

“Lemme see,” He said softly, gently taking your hand with the ice pack away from your eye. His thumb brushed your brow bone and you flinched.

“You’ve got a cut that I think needs a couple of stitches but I can’t tell for sure. I need to get you to the ED to clean you up and look with better light,” He said. “You also gotta have a head CT, that was a hard hit.”

“I’m really fine,” You said, he shook his head.

“Don’t fight me on this,” He warned, “Let me make sure you’re good.” He shined a pen light in your eye and you flinched again. He raised an eyebrow at you, the look on his face told you everything you needed to know.

“Okay, okay. Can I at least walk?” You asked, he laughed and unlocked your wheelchair, already pushing you to the ED.

“Does this answer your question?” He said as he continued walking and pushing your chair.

“Don’t make me roll my eyes, it hurts.” You said with a small smile. He pushed your chair into the elevator and swiped his badge for the ED.

“I didn’t mean to steal your jacket, I honestly forgot I had it on until I saw you,” You filled the silence. Not being able to see his face was making it hard to gauge his reaction. He sighed.

“I wasn’t gonna ask for it back, though you could have used that to see me again instead of taking an elbow to the eye,” He ribbed.

“Oh, yeah, should have thought of that first,” You said sarcastically. He wheeled you into a room and offered a hand for you to stand up. You took it and sat on the stretcher. He turned the overhead light on. You shielded your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,”

“Sorry, give me just a sec, I need to get sutures and lidocaine.” He said, your eyes widened.

“You weren’t kidding about the stitches?” He chuckled and shook his head, starting out of the room. He turned to look back at you in the doorframe.

“Not at all. Keep the ice pack there, I’ll be back in a few. I’ll put you next for a head CT. Any chance you’re pregnant?” He asked, you scoffed.

“Not at all,” You responded. He tapped the doorframe and nodded, disappearing into the hallway. Minutes passed and he was back with a handful of supplies. He sat down on a stool at the side of the bed and laid the head of stretcher back. He set up his workspace and drew up medicine.

“Lidocaine stings like a bitch,” he said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

“Be gentle,” You warned, he chuckled.

“One, two, three, little pin prick and lots of burning.” You did your best not to flinch but hissed as the stinging started.

“Motherfucker…” You winced.

“It will be better in a second.” He said, taking the needle out. A few seconds passed and you felt him touch the skin around your eye gently, you jumped at the initial contact. “Just relax,” He soothed. “I’ve got you.”

Jack set to work on the sutures, it only took about four before he cut the thread.

“All done. CT is ready for you,” He said, sitting the head of the stretcher up and offering you his hand again. You took it and sat down in the wheelchair.

“Now I’m starting to think you’re the one that wants to spend time with me,” You teased. “Hey, do you accompany all your patients to CT or am I just special?” He handed you your ice pack back with an eye roll and pushed you out of the room in the wheelchair.

“You went through such great lengths to see me again I figure you might as well get what you wanted.” He said playfully with a squeeze of your shoulder. You put your hand on top of his as he wheeled you down the hall.

You took a sharp left into CT and he locked the wheels, helping you up onto the table.

“Thank you,” You said softly. He nodded.

“I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

The whole scan only took a few minutes, he wheeled your chair back into the hospital room and helped you sit.

“It’s clear, but you need to go home and rest. You need to stay home for at least 48 hours. You probably have a concussion. Do you have someone that can come pick you up?” He asked. You chewed on your lip and shook your head.

“I can uber?” You asked. He shook his head at you.

“Not a chance, I can take you home.” He said. You laughed.

“Seriously, I get off in half an hour anyway. Stay here, I don’t want you driving.” He pressed. Your head really hurt and you honestly weren’t sure if you had the reaction time to be able to drive in Pittsburgh morning traffic. You nodded once, laying back on the stretcher and closing your eyes.

“I’ll be back in a few and we can go,” He said, flicking the lights off. You weren’t sure how long he was gone, you had dozed off. He woke you by gently rubbing your arm.

“Hey, you ready?” He asked softly. When you opened your eyes, he was staring at you. His eyes full of tenderness and caring, he helped you off the stretcher. He linked his arm with yours as you walked with him.

“Careful, Dr. Abbot. People are gonna get the wrong idea,” You teased with a smirk.

“Just to steady you, can’t have you falling.” He said with a wink. Your stomach did a flip and your cheeks flushed. Headache be damned, this hot ass doctor was flirting with you. You got to the physician’s parking lot where his truck sat and he opened your door and helped you climb in. He started the truck and handed you his phone.

“Type in your address,” he said, putting the truck in reverse. You chewed on your bottom lip.

“Are you sure this isn’t too much? What about my car?” You started to worry. Not that Ubers weren’t plentiful in Pittsburgh, but it seemed pretty out of his way to do this for you.

“I don’t mind, I’m only a phone call away if you need me for anything.” He said. You nodded and typed in your address on his GPS app on his phone and handed it back to him. He took one look at the screen and let out a snort.

“Yeah I think I can handle that.” He said with a smirk. He closed the app off of the phone and started to drive. He wasn’t using the directions and seemed familiar with the surroundings.

“You live close by?” You asked after a few minutes of driving. He nodded.

“You could say that,” He answered. “What apartment number?” He asked as he pulled into a space and put the truck in park.

“417,” You said, gathering your things. He nodded, the corner of his mouth tugging up and got out, rounding the truck and coming to your door. He took your backpack from you and slung it over his shoulder, offering his hand to help you out. You took his hand and slid out of the truck, wincing as your feet hit the ground.

“Thank you for doing this,” You said again.

“Anything to help a neighbor out,” He quipped. You did a double take.

“You live here too?” You asked, your eyes wide. He let out a laugh.

“Not just here,” He responded as he linked his arm with yours again, walking you to the elevator. He pressed the ‘up’ button and the elevator started to descend.

“How’s your head?” He asked, you sighed.

“Honestly? Really fuckin’ hurts,” You grimaced as the loud ‘ding’ of the elevator signaled that it was at the ground floor. Jack stepped on the elevator with you.

“I have Tylenol though, I’ll take some when I get in, hang on, let me get my keys,” you said, unzipping the backpack that Jack had slung over his shoulder. You dug your keys out of the bag.

“So, you gonna tell me which apartment is yours?” You asked, getting off the elevator when it stopped at your floor and walking down the hall to your apartment. He chuckled and shook his head.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” He said.

“Try me,”

“That one,” He pointed at the door marked ‘414’ as you passed it. You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him,

“You’re fucking with me,” You said, studying the look on his face. “There’s no way, I would have seen you before,”

“Okay yeah I’m fucking with you,” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning away from him and continuing to walk towards your apartment.

“But you’re still not going to believe me when I tell you.” He said.

“I’m not playing that game twice,” You said as you unlocked your door.

“317,” He said. You spun on your heel as you pushed the door open.

“You live directly below me?” You asked skeptically.

“Honest to God,” He said, fishing his keys out of his pocket and showing you the key engraved with ‘317’. You laughed and looked up at him.

“Do you hate me, just a little bit?” You asked, still in disbelief.

“I’ve honestly never been annoyed, more concerned?”

“I do drop things quite often, sorry,” You admitted sheepishly. You held the door open for him and he walked inside. “It’s kind of a mess, work has been kicking my ass lately,”

“I get that,” He said, taking in your apartment.

“Thank you for everything you did for me, Jack.” You said softly, taking half a step closer to him. He locked eyes with you and nodded.

“Anytime. Can I put my number in your phone, in case you need anything?” He asked.

“That’s incredibly sweet but you don’t have to,” You said, taking your phone out of your back pocket and unlocking it.

“I know, but I want to,” He said, taking your phone out of your hand and typing in his number. “Though I guess you could stomp really loud and I would hear it,” He added, handing your phone back to you with a smirk.

“We can figure out something about your car later this week, or I can drive you to work whenever you’re well enough to go back?” He offered. You nodded.

“That sounds good, thank you again.” You said. He nodded.

“I’m just a phone call away, or a good stomp, if you need me,” He said with a wink, turning to leave. You laughed as he walked out the door.

“Have a good day, Jack.” You said, holding the door open with one foot.

“You too, get some rest. Call me if you need anything,” He said, turning to walk away. You closed the door behind him, and then realized you still had his jacket on.

You contemplated opening the door again, but you opted to keep it for now, he could get it back later— right?

[jeremy-pakhitou]

I love Crocodile x Dragon because it only makes sense to a very few crazy people ///

Keep reading for my head canons/storyline (spoilers Headegg)

I'm rolling with a transmasc Crocodile headcanon who was part of the revolutionaries (or what precedes it) and he ended up leaving after loosing his hand in a conflict that could have been avoided. He wants to overthrow the World Government but he thinks Dragon is too soft and slow and that's why he'll try to take over Alabasta and create Cross Guild later on. He still very much wants to destroy the government but he wants to be a pirate not a revolutionary. He's also Luffy's second dad hehe

He met Dragon in his early twenties. They had a pretty big age gap but when it comes to power imbalance Dragon was not winning. Crocodile was savage and ready to shoot a bullet between your eyes if you annoyed him whereas Dragon was bad at communicating and a bit creepy at first when he was just a big softie with great goals and ideals. He was also really chill with queer people as some of his best friends are Queen Emporio Ivankov and my favorite transfem egg : Vegapunk ! (but that's a theory for another time krkr)

In the end Crocodile became attached to this big idealist with a pretty pleasant personality while Dragon was fascinated by the cold and intense Crocodile. But their relation didn't last very long and Crocodile was fed up with the revolutionary army and took his leave. They both didn't really have another relationship after and none of them really took care of the offspring their union created. (Dragon was looking at him from afar and Crocodile completely lost track of him but was reminded sometimes that this child existed, he only realized his son was Luffy at Impel Down/Marinford)

Anyway I love this ship because it's really the biggest white canvas, we know nothing about Dragon and Crocodile's past and I love to make up things. I love how Crocodile is the melting pot for theories too (is he the former Kuja impress ?? Is he Whiteboard son ?? Rocks D Xebec's ??? (I like this one because we don't know sh*t about Xebec either ))

If you read all of this damn thanks first + don't hesitate to share your headcanons you probably have some fjdkdl

[writingfics-passingtime]

Crying Wolf

This fic can be read as a standalone, or as a part 2 to Fearless

synopsis: You notice Bucky pulling away from everyone. Steve says the best way to help is be yourself - to not treat him any differently. But now, thanks to Loki, teasing Bucky might come with some consequences.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (flirtatious), Loki x reader (platonic)

cw: swearing, ruthless tickling of the reader, mentions of trauma, inappropriate jokes

word count: ~5700

minors dni: this fic does not contain smut, but contains a suggestive storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: I've had quite a few of you in my inbox and replies kindly asking for a sequel to Fearless, and it's been on the prompt list for a very long while. This is both a sequel and a standalone; you don't need to read Fearless to read this, but the story might make more sense if you do. I wrote Fearless several years ago, so please forgive me if this feels like a big departure from the initial tone. I hope you enjoy it all the same.

special thank you to sunflower anon for the plot idea 🌻

Bucky hasn't come to group training in three weeks.

He's quieter than usual, which is really saying something. You’ve seen it before, in the eyes of others who’ve been through the wringer; that distant stare, the haunted look that never quite leaves. You know it well enough to recognise it on him.

But the thing with Bucky is that he doesn’t want help. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to be seen as a victim or a burden.

So, you're standing there, fists clenched around the worn-out edge of your training gloves, eyes locked on Steve, the only one who might have any insight. You're working through your own sparring drills, but your thoughts keep flickering back to Bucky. His absence from this moment. You can’t get him out of your head.

Steve is sweat-slicked and a little breathless, but still as composed as ever. You throw a quick jab. He easily dodges.

"Hey," you say, standing down, shoulders dropping. "What’s going on with Bucky? Why isn't he here?"

He drops his guard. "He’s been through a lot," Steve says, like that wasn’t the understatement of the century.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, but Steve keeps going, voice quieter, more measured. "He’s... isolating."

"Yeah, I’ve noticed." You pick at the tape around your hands and then pull your firsts back to fighting stance. Steve is ready for you. You throw a hard punch at him this time, the impact sharp against his arm, but your mind is elsewhere. "Is there anything I can do?"

Steve steps back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, and looks at you like he's searching for something. You don’t know what, but you can feel the weight of it, the way his gaze lingers. "Just… be yourself. Just show up, treat him like you normally would." He tilts his head to the side, a wry smile pulling into his cheek. "Push his buttons. Y'know, like you usually do."

You let out a humourless laugh, wiping some sweat off your forehead. "I didn't want to push him. Antagonising a super soldier doesn’t seem like the best way to go about it."

He cracks a grin, one of those rare smiles you’ve seen from him, and his eyes soften. "That’s the point. He’s tired of being that guy. The super soldier. He needs to feel normal again. Don't pull back - you won't push him away. He’ll come around."

You stare at him for a second, trying to decide if he’s being serious. He’s got that look in his eyes, the one that says he knows exactly what he’s talking about. But you’re still skeptical.

"If you say so," you mutter, tying your gloves tight.

Steve chuckles, patting you on the shoulder. "Good. Now run drill twenty-two."

.

.

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen expecting the usual chaos of breakfast prep and clinking plates. But it's quiet today. Too quiet. You see Steve and Bucky sitting at the table. Steve’s holding a mug of coffee, but Bucky… Bucky’s got a book in his hands. It’s a small thing, but the fact that he’s holding it, actually reading, is a rare moment of peace.

You pause, leaning against the doorframe, studying them for a second. It’s not often you get to see the two of them like this. Calm, together, in a room bathed in morning light.

Bucky’s got that unreadable expression. He’s focused on his book, but you can tell it’s more out of habit than actual engagement. His eyes keep flickering to the edges of the pages. His mind is elsewhere.

And then, an idea comes to you.

You walk in like you own the place - a quiet confidence that comes from knowing exactly how to mess with someone. You grab the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup, but you don’t take your eyes off Bucky.

"Hey, Bucky," you call out, cocking an eyebrow, "you want some more coffee with your smut?"

Bucky’s brow furrows, and he looks up from his book, confused. "Smut?" he asks, the word foreign on his tongue. Steve glances up, and they both just look at you, genuinely clueless.

You take a casual sip of your coffee, leaning against the counter like you’ve got all the time in the world. "You know, smut," you say with a smirk. "Spice."

He blinks. "Spice?" He looks back at his book, flipping the page like he’s searching for something.

You chuckle. "Yeah, sex scenes. In books. The dirty stuff."

Bucky’s face flushes a deep red, his eyes darting back to the pages, and his lips start to part as if he’s about to protest.

"No need to lie," you say, giving him a mock look of doubt. "I’ve read it. No judgment."

Bucky’s face looks like he might combust. "There’s nothing like that in here," he says quickly, eyes shifting between you and Steve like he’s about to combust, but Steve’s choking on his coffee, trying not to laugh.

You bite the inside of lip, trying to hide your grin. "Are you sure? Because I swear I saw you flick to the page where it gets real spicy."

He looks between you and Steve, horror creeping into his features. "You’re… you’re joking," he says, half in disbelief.

You smirk, lifting your coffee to your lips. "It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Buck. It's popular. Hell, you’re probably the only one who’s hiding it."

Steve’s snorting into his coffee, clearly enjoying this, and Bucky’s still looking between the two of you like he’s caught in some bizarre fever dream.

You take another sip of your coffee, pretending to be nonchalant, even though you’re holding back a laugh. "Not gonna lie, I’ve read far worse than what's in that book you're holding."

His face flushes deeper, and his gaze snaps between you and Steve, who’s barely holding in a snicker behind his coffee mug. There’s a moment where Bucky just doesn’t know what to say, his lips parting like he’s about to spill something out, but the words don’t come.

And then, like a switch, the realisation hits him.

You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches in that small, tight smile you’ve seen before, the one that doesn’t come around often. But this time, there’s something more in it. A shift. You’ve broken through just a little, and now the teasing, the banter - it feels different. The air between you is charged, in a way you can’t quite put into words. It’s the first time in weeks you’ve seen any kind of genuine expression on Bucky’s face.

"You’re messing with me," he says, voice dropping to something lower, darker. The challenge in his tone makes your heart race just a little faster.

You lean back against the counter, your coffee cup held loosely in one hand, your expression deliberately neutral. "I’d never mess with you, Bucky," you say, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I’m smarter than that. Just trying to start a book club."

He doesn’t respond right away, just watches you with those penetrating steel-blue eyes, and you feel something twist in your chest. He points a finger at you, glaring with a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Tell Steve you’re joking."

There’s a tension in the air now, something that wasn’t there before. Something unspoken. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in a long while, you’re really looking at him.

Steve’s chuckle breaks the moment, and you glance at him, a little relieved for the distraction. But Bucky doesn’t look away. His gaze doesn’t soften, but it’s sharper now - focused, intent. There’s an edge to his stare that makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t decide whether it’s because of the game you’re playing or something else entirely.

"You’re ridiculous," he mutters, his voice warmer than before, though still carrying that familiar edge.

Your breath hitches for a moment, and you can’t tell if it’s the sudden softness of his voice or the way his proximity makes everything seem a little bit… closer than it should be. But you stand your ground, meeting his eyes head-on.

But then, Steve clears his throat loudly, and just like that, the moment snaps back into place. The tension fades, but it doesn’t disappear. Not entirely.

Bucky looks at Steve, then back to you, and finally sighs in defeat. You smile to yourself, trying to hold in the satisfaction as Bucky gives you a glare with an undeniably playful edge. "I’ll let you off the hook. For now."

But as Bucky grabs his book again, his fingers brushing over the pages, you can feel it - the warmth that's simmering. It’s fragile, but it’s real. And for the first time in days, Bucky looks like he’s in the moment, not lost in the past.

He's here.

.

.

You’re mid-sentence, arguing that the protagonist’s internal conflict didn’t pay off, when the quiet creak of the library door pulls both your and Loki’s attention.

Bucky steps inside, the dim lamp light cutting across his face. His jaw’s tight, but his eyes gleam with something unreadable. He’s got the book in hand - the book - and you already know what he’s going to say before the words even leave his mouth.

He lifts the novel slightly, dark gaze flicking from Loki to you. "No smoot."

Your mouth twitches. "You mean smut, Buck."

Loki, of course, is the first to speak. He closes his own book with deliberate flair, settling into the leather wingback like a king on a throne. “What's this?”

Bucky's eyes don't leave you. "Not a single sex scene in here. Not even a kiss."

You exhale slowly, fighting to keep your expression neutral. "Must’ve been reading the wrong edition," you murmur, reaching for your tea.

Loki gives you a look that could be called gleeful if it weren’t laced with such dry malice. "Please, darling," he drawls. "If you’re going to gaslight the poor man, at least try to make it subtle."

Bucky watches you, head tilted slightly, his brow raised in amusement. "So you were joking," he says slowly. "Trying to get a rise outta me."

You lift your brows. "Trying?"

You don’t mean to sound breathless, but you kind of are. Because Bucky isn’t just amused - he’s focused. The kind of focus he gets when he’s squaring up with someone. His weight shifted just forward enough, like he’s waiting for something.

Loki, however, is thriving on the mischief. He conjures another book from thin air, holding it aloft between his fingertips, the cover glinting with gold leaf and something entirely indecent on the front.

"If you're is truly disappointed by the lack of literary debauchery," Loki says to Bucky, tone smooth and unbothered, "you might prefer this. Popular on Midgard, I hear. Something about dukes and corsets."

You cough into your tea, trying to keep it together. "Shit. Not sure I'd take Loki's suggestion for this stuff, Buck."

Loki's glare swings to you. "And why not?"

Bucky huffs a laugh, but it’s short-lived. His attention’s on you, too, gaze narrowing. "You should be careful who you're messing with."

Before you can respond, Loki cuts in, his voice sly and dangerous with the air of someone about to set the room on fire.

"If you’re struggling with her mouth, Barnes..."

You snap your head toward him. "Don’t."

Loki’s smile turns slow and wicked. "Oh? He doesn't know?"

"Know what?" Bucky asks, now looking to Loki.

"Loki," you growl, the warning sharp now.

But he ignores it entirely, already too far gone. He gestures lazily toward you, his tone almost sing-song. "She’s incredibly ticklish, Barnes. Mouthy little thing until you find the right spot. Then it’s all helpless laughter and desperate apologies."

Your heart lurches. "Loki-"

But the trickster’s already leaned back, positively smug. "Writhing, squealing," he continues, voice full of mock nostalgia. "It's delightful, really. Highly effective. I suggest you try it."

Bucky’s attention snaps to you. Sharp. Curious. Dangerous.

And then he moves.

Not fast - not overt. But his steps are steady, and your breath hitches the second he crosses into your space. You sink deeper into your armchair, instinct or gravity, you can't say which.

Bucky follows, slow and calculated, until he’s bracing one hand against the back of your chair, the other resting casually on the armrest, caging you in with practiced ease.

His head dips just slightly as he leans over you.

Your spine locks up. Your pulse is a drum.

You force yourself to tilt your chin up, meet his gaze. But it’s not easy - not with the way he’s looking at you, not entirely amused anymore. This is something else - playful, yes, but edged with something sharp. Something primal.

You don’t dare move.

His voice is low when it hits you. "You ticklish, sweetheart?"

Your skin lights up like static.

You don’t flinch. You can’t. He’s too close. Close enough to see the tendons in his neck, the glint of his dog tags, and the faint smirk pulling at his stubbled mouth.

You swallow, hard. "Bucky, I-"

"One more word about smut," he murmurs, "and I’ll make you regret it."

Your lips twitch.

Because this - this - is good. Bucky, letting loose. Teasing. You could almost cry from the relief of seeing him like this. Not haunted. Not withdrawn. Just a guy giving you hell.

"Understood?" he adds, voice low and rough.

You nod, trying to keep your grin in check. "Cross my heart."

He studies you a second longer. And then, without another word, he straightens and walks away - calm, controlled, leaving the scent of coffee and leather and adrenaline in his wake.

You exhale once he’s gone, sagging into the chair like your bones gave out.

And then, of course, Loki.

The bastard crosses one leg over the other, examining you with a look that says he’s just found his favourite soap opera and you’re the main character.

"Well," he says, smiling like a serpent. "That was electric."

"Don’t," you say quickly, pointing at him.

He raises a brow. "I’m merely observing. Stark’s infrared sensors probably picked up the heat signature."

"You’re such a dick," you mutter, crossing your arms tightly across your chest as you glare at him. You can't keep the edge from your voice. "Seriously, telling Bucky to tickle me? What the hell?"

Loki’s eyes flick up from the book in his hands, his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back an insufferable grin. He doesn’t even flinch under your stare, too amused by your annoyance. Of course he is.

"Oh no," he says with exaggerated sympathy, looking up just enough to give you that devilish grin of his. "The handsome super soldier might pin you down and place his hands all over you. How ever will you survive?"

You glare harder and pick up your tea. "Whatever. You're still wrong about Hotchins in the third act."

Loki takes the cue and picks up your argument from where it left off as you try, and fail, to suppress the flutter of heat low in your belly.

.

.

It's the very next morning that you walk into the living room with the sort of easy confidence that comes from a good night’s sleep, a hot shower, and no immediate need to duck for cover... and you walk straight into a trap.

Steve and Banner are seated across opposite couches, coffee mugs in hand, data pads in the other, discussing something in quiet tones. Loki lounges like a bored cat - how he manages to drape himself across furniture like it was carved for him, you’ll never know. And Bucky...

Bucky’s seated on the end of another couch, boots planted on the ground, body relaxed but alert in that way of his. His eyes are lowered, reading. The book’s balanced in one hand, and the moment you see the cover, your steps slow.

Because you’ve read that one.

And that one is definitely not PG.

A laugh huffs out of you before you can stop it. "Oh my god. That book?"

Bucky doesn’t look up. But he goes very, very still.

You continue across the room, grin widening, genuinely excited. "How far are you? Wait - don’t answer that. Let me guess. Chapter fourteen?"

Steve chuckles into his mug, glancing over. "We know you were just messing with him the first time."

"I was, the other day," you say, hands up. "That book was clean. But this one..." You giggle, but you're actually kind of excited to discuss it with him- uh, the plot, that is.

But Bucky closes it slowly and tosses it down onto the table like it just insulted him.

He stands.

And something shifts.

It’s subtle. Just the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips slightly to the side. But your stomach drops all the same.

Because you remember. His voice in your ear.

"One more word about smut, and I’ll make you regret it."

You laugh - nervously, this time. Hands up. "Hey now, hold on. This isn’t a repeat offence. I'm genuinely curious."

"Sure," Banner chuckles from the couch, not looking up from his data pad. "Totally sounds like curiosity. Not at all like a joke at his expense."

"Okay, wow, betrayal from all sides," you mutter, taking a small step back as Bucky starts toward you. "I’m just saying, I didn’t expect you to be reading that book of all books, I-"

He says nothing. Just takes another step.

Measured. Intentional.

You keep backing up. "Seriously, Bucky, I’m innocent this time. Genuinely. I wasn’t teasing you, I swear. I was-"

"Don’t run. Don't make me chase you," he says, voice low. "Just come here and take it."

Your heart spikes so hard it echoes in your ears. "Okay, see - that right there? That’s terrifying."

He takes another step. You bolt.

You turn, trying to whip around the couch-

-and slam full-speed into Loki’s chest.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a hard puff, and before you can untangle yourself, his fingers coil around your wrists. He ensnares you with far too much grace, and far too little resistance.

Then you glance over Loki’s shoulder. See the version of him still seated casually, still sipping tea.

Until it shimmers, and vanishes.

"Oh you son of a-" you gasp, already squirming. "You set me up - this was a trap!"

Loki chuckles, low and serpentine, in a voice only you can hear. "Who, me? Would I truly give Barnes a book I knew would provoke some commentary from you?"

Your stomach drops, you look up at him, breathless and flushed. "No..."

You tug at your arms, but Loki just tuts and holds you in place.

"C’mon," you try, turning to Bucky. "Truce. I didn’t mean anything this time. Just honest commentary."

Bucky smirks as he reaches you, the look in his eye somewhere between wicked and indulgent. "You always talk this much when you’re nervous?"

"I’m not nervous," you lie. "I’m smart. There’s a difference."

The two of them exchange a look, one that sends heat down your spine and makes your hands twitch in Loki’s grip.

"Let’s get her seated," Loki says lightly, dragging you toward an empty couch. "I’d hate for her knees to give out from anticipation."

"Oh fuck," you groan.

They ease you down - not rough, but not exactly gentle either. Before you can sit properly, Bucky swings a leg over your hips and settles, his weight pinning you in place.

"Steve? Bruce!?" You wriggle against your captors to no avail, shooting a desperate look to the bystanders. But they merely toast their mugs, a sign you're on your own. Your heart stutters as you turn back to Bucky and Loki.

You buck a little, instinctive panic fluttering in your stomach. "Guys- wait. Hang on-"

"Reasoning window closed," Bucky says calmly, adjusting his position. "You were warned."

Loki chuckles and pins your wrists above your head. "I believe Barnes has earned this one."

Bucky looks down at you, one eyebrow raised, the picture of mock deliberation. “Well? Where should I start, Loki?”

"Bucky, please-"

Loki smiles. "I’d hate to deny you the delight of discovery."

And then-

Bucky presses his fingers to your stomach.

You jerk violently and screech, the sound raw and high-pitched before devolving into a helpless laugh that rips from your chest like it’s been waiting days to break free.

"Fuck! No- Bucky!"

"Wow. You are so ticklish," he says, incredulous, like he’s just uncovered a national secret. He presses again, harder, and you twist, laughing uncontrollably as he digs into your sides.

Your muscles spasm. Your feet kick the cushions. Loki’s grip on your wrists is annoyingly effective.

"Wait, WAIT! I’m sorry!" you gasp, voice cracking from laughter. "I-I take it back! I take everything back!"

"Too late," Bucky says, smirking now, barely breathless himself from the effort.

Your laughter pitches higher as he shifts lower, targeting your hips, and your brain starts short-circuiting from the overload.

And through it all, even as your cheeks burn and your lungs scream, the warm, sharp heat of it stays with you-

He's laughing with you. Not at you.

He’s open. Present.

Alive.

So you brace to take your medicine.

Bucky's fingers scuttle lightly along your sides, dipping just beneath the hem of your shirt where skin meets air and nerves light up like a damn Christmas tree.

You lose it.

Your laugh is immediate - loud, cracked, breathless - and your entire body lurches like it’s trying to escape its own skin. You twist, squirm, kick, all of it completely fucking useless under the weight of a super soldier and the iron grip of a literal god.

"No- fuuuck, Bucky! I swear- I’m gonna-"

"Going to what?" he challenges, voice calm, maddeningly measured as he drags his fingers up your ribs, slow and deliberate. "Be more careful with your commentary next time?"

You shriek through another peal of laughter, your legs flailing against the couch cushions. "I was genuinely curious!"

Steve snorts from the other side of the room. "Sure you were."

Banner still doesn't even look up from his tablet. "This is what happens when you antagonise assassins with trauma and downtime."

You try to scream something back but all that comes out is a garbled, breathless sob-laugh as Bucky zeroes in on that brutal little spot just beneath your ribs, one hand holding you down by the hip while the other dances back and forth across it in merciless zigzags.

It’s not fair - he’s too strong, too steady, too fucking good at this.

"Buck, I swear-" you gasp between giggles, "-you’re gonna kill me!"

“You’ll live,” Bucky says dryly. But there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth, that rare ghost of a grin that’s less threat and more reward. Like he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on.

You glare up at Loki, who's still got your wrists pinned above your head, effortlessly casual.

"You traitorous bastard," you wheeze. "Let me go and fight me like a god."

Loki raises a brow. "And risk being thrashed by a ticklish mortal writhing like a fish on a dock? I think not."

Bucky hits a weak spot and you squeal, lashing out at Loki - “You glittery frostbitten motherfucker!”

"Language," Steve calls from behind his coffee cup.

Loki smiles cold and bright. "I wasn't planning to get my hands dirty, but seeing as you insist on dragging me into this..."

He moves your wrists to one hand and slides the other down your arm. You suck air through the giggles, eyes going wide, and shake your head.

"W-w-wait! No! I'm sorry! I didn't- SHIHIT!"

His fingers glide with awful precision into the hollow of your underarm, just a featherlight stroke to start.

You scream.

Your body convulses violently, torn between twisting away from Bucky’s maddening fingers at your lower ribs and Loki’s devastating scrapes along your underarms.

"No - oh my god - fuck, Loki, don’t-!"

"Oh, we’re well past don’t," Loki says smoothly, fingers trailing in tight little circles, never fully lifting, just skating and brushing and tormenting.

It’s like they coordinated this. The way Bucky’s hand shifts lower again, teasing at the crease of your hipbone with just the pads of his fingers - sweeping side to side, unpredictable and effective. The way Loki keeps his strokes light, fluttering, like he's writing a damn poem on your skin in ancient runes.

Your stomach jerks every time Bucky’s touch flirts with your waistband, and the pressure of him straddling your hips pins you in place no matter how hard you buck.

You try to thrown him off, but he just shifts his knees, anchoring you harder. The muscle under his jaw twitches with restrained laughter. He’s trying to look serious. He’s failing.

You gasp, flailing weakly. "I’m gonna die-"

"Can’t die from tickling," Banner says absently. "Elevated heart rate, maybe. Definitely some stress on the diaphragm. Oh, and laughter-induced fatigue is a thing, too."

"I hate science!"

"Noted," Steve says, grinning now. "We’ll put it in your file."

"She might pass out, though," Banner observes mildly, finally looking up.

"She’ll be fine," Steve says, sipping his coffee. "She needs the cardio."

You’re laughing so hard your voice is almost gone, hiccuping now, tears sliding sideways down your cheeks. "I- I swear- I’ll kill you both-"

"Already tried," Loki murmurs, deadpan, still tracing maddening circles under your arm. "Failed spectacularly, if I recall."

"Yeah," Bucky adds with a tilt of his head, "You’re not in much of a position to be making threats."

His fingers walk back up your ribs again, slowly, rhythmically, like he’s feeling each one - tracing the outlines like he's mapping you.

It’s unbearable.

It’s warm and raw and intimate in a way you didn’t expect, in a way that’s short-circuiting your brain and turning your limbs to jelly. It’s playful - but layered under that is a weight you can feel: that he's choosing this. Choosing you. Not mocking. Not hurting. Just being, here, with you, present and real and alive.

And that’s when Bucky leans in, face close to yours, his voice low and rough with amusement. "You bring up smut again," he says, "and next time I’m starting at your feet."

You wheeze. You actually wheeze.

Then he shifts his position just slightly. The movement is barely noticeable - just a subtle shift of weight, a lean forward - but it frees his right hand, which now dips lower.

You feel it coming before it lands. The anticipation alone has you screeching.

"No! No no no- not there-!"

But he does. His hand slips past your waistband, just far enough to press into the soft spot at your lower belly, fingers drumming lightly before grabbing at the hypersensitive nerves beneath.

You go feral.

Your scream dissolves into breathless, chaotic laughter, your entire body spasming under the onslaught. You thrash, but you’re caged by both of them - Bucky pressing you down, Loki above holding your arms in place like a steel-boned statue. You can’t breathe. Can’t think.

You’re just nerves and heat and helpless, writhing laughter.

Steve watches it all unfold, biting back a grin. "You know, this is probably against several peace treaties."

"Oh, absolutely," Banner replies. "But it’s compelling television."

You’d kill them too, if you could.

"Alright-okay-I’m dying," you gasp, choking on laughter, trying to twist away as Bucky’s fingers keep tormenting that same damn spot. "Mercy! Please, fuck - I mean it, I can’t-!"

"You sure?" Bucky cocks a brow. "Sounds like there’s still plenty left in you."

Your eyes close as you try to suck in enough air to speak. You kick the couch cushions blindly, and Loki’s fingers resume teasing your ribs, climbing up toward your armpit again, and your breath fractures.

"OH MY GOD- OKAY! I’M SORRY - FUCK - UNCLE, TRUCE, WHATEVER YOU WANT! I'M SERIOUS!"

Bucky finally stops. Slowly. His fingers ease off, dragging lightly across your stomach once more before retreating, and you melt into the cushions, panting, your body shivering from residual laughter.

Loki releases your wrists and stands, dusting his hands like he’s just completed a satisfying day’s work. “I’d say we’ve done a public service.”

You gasp like you’ve surfaced from underwater, cheeks on fire. You blink up at the ceiling and rasp, "I’m gonna have nightmares about fingers."

"Splendid," Loki says pleasantly.

"I hate you both," you croak.

Steve chuckles. "She’s lying."

Banner taps his tablet. "Endorphins through the roof. She’ll forgive you in five."

"Three," Steve corrects.

You let out a muffled groan, pressing your hands over your face. "I hate this entire team."

You don’t even realise when Bucky shifts - just feel the weight lift off your hips, the heat of him pulling away, the absence of torment like stepping out of a rainstorm.

Then his hand slips under your elbow and he’s tugging you upright, gentle but firm. Your limbs are jelly. Your lungs barely work. Your chest heaving with the aftershocks of too much laughter and too many nerves frayed to the edge.

You try to sit straight, but your body betrays you and you fall - helplessly, gracelessly - against his side where he sits.

Bucky lets out a low, amused huff as you slump against him like a puppet with its strings cut.

You mumble into the shoulder of his t-shirt. "I think I saw the light. Pretty sure it told me to go back to bed."

Steve snorts. "Not a chance."

You peel your face from Bucky’s shoulder just far enough to shoot a bleary glare toward the couch across from you.

Steve’s grinning around a mouthful of coffee. "It’s training time. Get your caffeine, get your gear, let’s go."

You groan and swiped a hand down your face. "I’ve already done my cardio."

Loki smirks faintly, straightening the cuffs of his shirt. "You’re welcome."

Bucky chuckles low, then pushes off the couch, offering you a hand. "C’mon. I’m game for some sparring."

You blink up at him. It takes a second to register what he’s said.

He hasn’t trained with the team in weeks. Not since things got dark again, and he started retreating into the corners of the compound like a ghost in the walls.

But now... he’s standing here, hand out, relaxed in a way you haven’t seen in too long. A flicker of light back in his eyes. Not all the way there. But present. Here.

You slide your hand into his, let him pull you to your feet, your legs still wobbly as hell.

As he turns toward the kitchen, you look past him - catching Steve’s eye across the room.

You don’t say a word. You don’t have to.

Steve gives a small nod.

You let out a slow breath and follow Bucky, faintly buzzed, breathless, nerves still crackling from the aftermath.

But warm.

An involuntary smile etches into your lips, eyes stinging as you blink back tears of relief.

It was worth every second.

[muletia]

𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader 18+ content, minors don't interact!

summary: orion hasn't seen you for a long time (2 days) and desperation clouds his common sense. when he visits you at home and drops by the garage he shows you how much he has missed you

cw: gentle!dom!reader, sub!orion, established relationship, fingering, handjob, praise kink, overstimulation, orion cums untouched several times (that's hot), L-bomb, reader is teasing the fuck out of him, this is probably the most self-indulgent thing i have ever written

word count: 2670

my first time writing transformers smut. this isn't really canon to my orion 'storyline', just wanted to get this out of my system because i love making characters submissive and breedable :))

"Orion?" you call from behind, and he jumps in place, his helm striking the ceiling of your garage. Even when mass displaced, the small space of you garage was a challenge for him. "How long have you been sitting here?"

You step inside and close the door behind you, setting your backpack and a shopping bag to the side.

He grows flustered, seeming to shrink before your eyes. He hunches slightly, trying to make himself appear even smaller like he was ashamed of something. Sitting back on his calves, his hands are perfectly placed on his thighs.

"I simply... I truly wanted to see you. It has been a long time. I missed you."

Your sharp gaze shifts downward, and Orion wishes he could bury his head in the ground. You were always perceptive — a quality he deeply admired. But now, he would give much to have you overlook just this one detail.

"I think I can tell how much," you say with a warm smile, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

It hasn’t even been three minutes since you reunited, and he is already proving just how deeply he missed you. Droplets of cyan fluid, strikingly similar in color to energon, were slowly seeping through the seams of his interface panel, betraying the intensity of the spectacle unfolding within.

"Do not... look." He whimpers, trying to shield you from the mortifying display.

"Hey, hey, it's all right," you reassure him, seeing the panic written across his faceplate. "Orion, love, I am not going to judge you. I just... didn't expect that you, too, felt... desire. What a delightful surprise."

It feels as though the temperature in your garage has risen a few degrees. You weren’t disgusted, nor were you disappointed. And you called him... "love." That pet name wasn’t unfamiliar to him; you’d used it a few times before. But in this context, it hit differently—deeper, more shamelessly.

His spike pressed painfully against the confines of its cage, but Orion had to remain patient. He couldn’t risk frightening you, couldn’t destroy the atmosphere that had been so delicately built. Under no circumstances could your smile shift into revulsion. He faced a monumental challenge, as the simple utterance of "love" had nearly caused him to overload.

"Forgive me; this sight must be... disgraceful to you."

Oh, how frightened, how shy, skittish he was. You already knew you couldn’t be too direct with him, couldn’t afford to tease or play games. This time, you would have to slow down, and match his pace— no matter how much you wanted to see what lay hidden beneath that panel.

"Not at all," you reply, shaking your head. "Hey, I could help you if you’d like."

His answer comes after a pause.

"I am certain you must be fatigued after work," he improvises, not ready yet. He needs time to accept for himself that only your touch can bring him relief. "I would not wish for you to exert yourself on my account."

You raise an eyebrow because you’ve never heard a bigger bullshit in your life.

"So what, you just want to watch a movie together?"

He attempts a smile, trying to show that this option is perfectly agreeable. If not for the accumulating transfluid pooling around and beneath him, it would be hard to tell he was aroused. This game of restraint demanded immense self-control, but he was willing to suppress his desires for your comfort. He would rather die than make you feel uneasy because of him.

"Of course, I would be delighted."

All right, so much for the promise of not teasing him. You couldn’t bear to see him in this state; ignoring the problem would only frustrate both of you, especially him. You might not be entirely familiar with his anatomy, but in this instance, you assumed that keeping an erection (quite literally) locked away must be excruciatingly uncomfortable—especially for someone so openly expressive with his feelings and needs.

"Okay, but before I grab the laptop… can I kiss you?"

His optics widen.

"Pardon?"

"Can I kiss you?" you repeat, watching with satisfaction as his weak bluff crumbles. "It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I want to show you how much I’ve missed you."

He doesn’t ask why now, why not immediately after you greeted him. His focus is solely on the fact that you’re about to touch him, likely in multiple places at once. Your soft lips would be on him, showing him affection, bringing you closer together. He begins fidgeting with his digits, terrified of the overwhelming influence you have over him and how little you need to do to leave him feverish. Yet at the same time, he has no objections—he can’t refuse you.

He feels like he’s about to explode.

"Yes… you may. I beg you."

"Wonderful!"

Orion leans forward slowly to make it easier for you, but you still place your hand on his audial. And he fucking yelps. He squirms restlessly, unsure of what to do with his body. You overstimulate him, tugging at every possible sense, playing with him, teasing him—and there is no doubt that you are doing it intentionally. Yet he doesn’t pull away anymore; he doesn’t try to hide.

"I missed you too, you know?" you whisper, and he smiles. "It’s nice that you came by."

You move in for the kiss slowly, lulling him into thinking you’ll play his game. You see his optics flutter closed, his excitement mounting, and his lips—such as they are—pursed ever so slightly in anticipation. He needs this, but you’re not going to give him that satisfaction. Not yet. You want to hear him ask for it, to be absolutely certain he consents.

You give him a quick peck on the cheek and pull your hand away, though you stay close to his faceplate. You don’t hide your smile when he opens his optics again, looking utterly crestfallen. You almost feel bad for teasing him during such an innocent act—almost. That is, until you hear the muffled sound of dripping. Under other circumstances, you might have laughed.

"[Name]?" he asks desperately, alarmed by your retreat.

"So… I’ll get the laptop. What movie do you want to watch?"

Now he looks terrified. His servo shoots out to grab your wrist before he can even form a proper argument. There’s no time for that—you can’t leave him now. And as if strength alone wasn’t enough, he starts pleading. Panicked, hysterical.

"No, please! Don’t go, I beg you!"

"What? I thought we were watching a movie?"

"Ah… Stay… please."

A simple, innocent touch, and he was already losing his mind. It was difficult for him to form constructive, clear thoughts when you were so close. All his senses were focused on you. If you were to leave him now, Orion could literally die. He needed you, he longed for you. Only now did he release your wrist.

“If you have not changed your mind… I would like to ask for your help.”

You smile; you had been waiting for these words. You send him another quick kiss, watching with a reassuring sense of pride as such a large being shifts uneasily, trying to stifle the moans escaping in soft whimpers. You caress his cheek, and Orion instinctively leans into your hand, shifting his legs. Your touch drove him wild, yet he could not pull away, could not sever the connection. Completely at your mercy. A mortal playing with a god. A god humbled before a human. An addictive state, empowering but also terrifying, easily taking control.

Not today, not now — you reprimand yourself.

“Of course, love.”

“Ah!” he whimpers and closes his eyes. His digits claw at his thighs as he struggles to find a purpose for his hands. He overloaded. From a single pet name.

Orion gasps heavily, as if he truly needed oxygen to survive. It was not hard for you to guess what had just happened.

“Well, you are welcome.” You stroke his cheek, wanting to gain his full attention. His large cyan optics turn towards you. They are filled with love and joy, but they are also dimmed, not as sharp as usual; desire has overwhelmed common sense. This was not the end yet. “Hey, are you okay?” you ask, just to be sure. You needed to know what was going on inside him.

“Yes…” he pants. “But please… I want more… I need more.”

He could not take it any longer. He was about to truly explode. With a quiet hiss, he pulls back his interface panel, and cool air surrounds his battered and tormented bits. More hidden transfluid spills onto the floor, with some slowly trickling down his thighs. It was a pitiful sight, but Orion no longer felt shame; he simply did not have the strength. When your eyes look down, curious about the sound, he can only manage a quiet moan, for everything had become real at that moment.

“Wow, you guys have two? Cool.” You smile, as if you felt no shame at all. “Next time, we will try with pegging.” You wink at him.

“What is this ‘pegging’?”

“You’ll find out next time.” You respond dismissively. “May I… touch you?”

The response comes instantly.

“Yes, please.” he squeaks.

Slowly, you touch the tip of his spike, wanting to get familiar with its texture, to see how much it resembles a human one. Its hardness does not surprise you, as it was made of living metal. It also does not surprise you that he begins to shudder, and a few drops of transfluid, a vivid blue, trickle from the tip. The same happens at the back; his valve glistens with desire, covered by a layer of the same fluid. Curious about the consistency, you spread it on your finger. It is thick and sticky, resembling honey but more liquid.

“Ah!” Orion moans loudly. An exquisite sound from such a deep, low baritone. “[Name], I am about to… ah, I am going to overload!”

“Hold on for a moment, alright? Will you do that for me, baby? I would like to make you feel good.”

He already felt incredible, even without the touch, but he would be a fool to deny himself this pleasure. He wanted you to touch him, to overwhelm his senses even more, leaving him with no escape.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?” you press, this time for your own satisfaction.

“I am not going to… mph…” you circle your finger around his tip, teasing him, testing if he can endure. Oh, how cruel you were today. “I promise, I am not going to overload.”

“Good mech.”

A few more drops escape. Orion is so close; a pet name or a compliment separates him from bliss. But he wants to be good for you, to show his worth and that he can obey. Your disappointment is the last thing he wants to experience. So, he patiently waits for your move, which comes instantly.

You smear the transfluid on your hand, as it is the only lubricant you have, and wrap your hand around his spike, or at least try to, as it turns out that the gigantic robot also has quite an impressive dick. Every move from you is accompanied by a pitiful, loud moan sung by Orion. His helplessness cannot be matched by the concert of sounds he makes when you start sliding your hand down the length of his spike.

He cannot hold on. It is too much, definitely too much. At first, you maintain a steady rhythm, playing with him and his needs, observing. Your gaze also excites him because there is not an ounce of shame in it. It is the complete opposite of his, as his optics cannot focus on one thing. He wants to peek, to see how your hand moves, how beautifully it fits around his spike. How compatible you are. But he cannot, for his processor is on fire. He can only focus on pleasure, on you. The softness of your body, the texture that his spike has never felt before. The only thing he can manage to produce are deviant moans. And it seems you can read his mind, as you ask him a question that demands an answer.

“How do you feel, baby?”

You are cruel, but he physically cannot be angry at you. So, he tries to please you, to remain obedient, even though thinking is beyond his grasp at this point. The inside of his helm has turned to mush.

“Hah, s-splendid,” he stutters.

You click your tongue teasingly, unsettling him, as he does not know this human expression of emotion. But before he can be concerned by it, you tighten your grip, as if you want to crush him, and all he can do is yelp.

“Agh, [Name]!” he whimpers your name, not knowing what he did to deserve such treatment.

“Only splendid?” you ask, now drawing slow circles with your thumb around his tip.

“N-no!” he tries to protest, but complex words cannot leave his voice box. “No! Hah…”

“Hmmm, I think we need to change that, don’t we? I can’t let you feel only splendid.”

The confusion lasts only a moment as you lean closer, drinking in his drunken, love-drained expression. When your other hand reaches his valve and you press two fingers into the overheated, surprisingly soft metal, Orion can no longer think of anything. He tilts his helm back and lets out such a raw, loud moan that it could be heard by everyone within three kilometers.

Now, you are working with both hands. One hand works on his spike, the other pumps your fingers into his valve. Shallowly, even too shallowly for his taste, but it is enough for him to reach the stars. To experience what true pleasure is.

He wants to climax, he needs it, he cannot take it any longer. He feels as if he is burning alive, his vents working loudly and rapidly, trying to keep up with the ecstasy. His digits scratch at the floor, making visible grooves. Completely overstimulated, but chasing the pleasure, he grinds down on your fingers. Deeper, harder, faster.

He does not need to say anything; you understand perfectly. You increase the pace, adding another finger.

“I hope this is better than splendid now.”

“Mhmm, ah! It is!” he stutters.

His spike begins to tremble, and his valve tightens around your fingers. That is your signal to evacuate, it is time for the fireworks.

“Would you like to climax, darling?”

“Yes! Please, ah! I beg you…” he whimpers.

One last movement, one final push from you. You torment him for a moment longer, only to end his suffering.

“Then come, since you performed so well. Love you.”

You withdraw your fingers and leave his spike alone, watching as Orion climaxes so powerfully that his transfluid lands on the ceiling. He moans your name, panting heavily, completely drained of energy but still full of adoration. Still thinking only of you.

“Orion? Baby, are you alright?” you ask, abandoning the teasing tone. You’ll save that for another time.

He blinks rapidly, returning to the present. His optics focus on you, and he musters a weak smile before leaning forward, compelling you to hold his helm in your arms. He nestles against your chest, taking a moment to recover. He never gets enough of being close to you.

“Orion?” you ask again. The urge to pet him is overwhelming, but your hands are still coated in transfluid.

“I am alright,” he murmurs and tilts his helm back for a moment to look at you. He smiles, and he is so beautiful that you momentarily go blind. And in his optics, there is so much love, so much gratitude reserved only for you, that you forget about the world around you. Especially the neighbors who will surely confront you tomorrow about disturbing the night’s peace.

[tarysande]

The best part about coming back to the source material after a looooong time is you sorta get a fresh look at canon in comparison to whatever the dominant strains of fanon have become. Or, in fact, whatever your own dominant strains of headcanon have become.

I mean, yes, Garrus “I’m not a good turian” Vakarian gets infinitely cooler (and more competent!) by pretty much every metric as the storyline progresses. He does. But fresh out of ME1 and into ME2 through his recruitment, I find myself genuinely amused by how thin the veneer of badass is over a pretty dominant core of straight-up nerd sprinkled with idealism mixed with self-doubt.

When you have Garrus in the squad all the time (and thus get all his ambient dialogue and remarks), you really pick up on the number of times he calls out bad behavior, unethical actions, cruelty, and rule-breaking, especially in ME1.

He’s not actually a hothead who can’t abide rules of any kind. In fact, most of the time he’s pretty pro-law-and-order, and he gets amusingly hall-monitorish when people are breaking rules he considers important and worth following.

Fundamentally, Garrus chafes when his sense of what is just is at odds with what the authorities do about that injustice (or what they stop him from doing). And I would hazard a guess that the reason his actions seem so intense or harsh or "of course we should have shot down that ship in the middle of the Citadel" is indicative not of his impatience but of the degree to which he thinks the authorities have failed to uphold that justice. We know he can be patient. He's a sniper. His whole modus operandi on Omega is precision kills without civilian casualty. But when that long fuse finally burns down, he goes from zero to shooting down ships in the middle of the Citadel in what looks (from the outside) like a heartbeat.

And yes, injured pride hastens the burning of that fuse; he doesn’t like losing. Or admitting defeat. Or failing.

Having just replayed his recruitment mission, a few things really stood out to me this time.

The merc bands really hate him--and they also reluctantly admire him (he's described as smart, resourceful, dangerous, idealistic, brave, slippery; they all agree they only way they managed to get this far is by isolating him and employing dirty tactics). I mean, there's literally a station-wide announcement that Omega can return to "business as usual" once Archangel is out of the picture because he was disrupting things so completely.

The way Garrus blames himself for the deaths of his squad is so freaking turian. Failure reflects on the leader who places his people in danger they can't handle, not the individual who fails. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Yes, Sidonis betrayed him, but the person Garrus blames the most? Is himself. For trusting Sidonis in the first place. For raising Sidonis to a position where he had the means and opportunity to harm others--and the weakness of character to turn coat, to save his own hide, instead of dying to protect the others.

Garrus mentions more than once that he was trying to emulate Shepard. And his tone always implies that he knows he failed because Shepard would never have let a Sidonis into the fold. Again, he's blaming himself. Like a good turian. Yes, he wanted to avoid the red tape and bureaucracy of C-Sec, but his code--Archangel's code--certainly aligns with Paragon Shepard's morality (with a Garrus Vakarian twist).

And since it wouldn't be meta without adding a Tara's Headcanon Twist ... I've always wondered why "Archangel" when it's such a ... human concept. But this time, when I noticed how he spoke about Shepard's influence, and how quickly he brushes aside the name when she asks him about it, I wondered if it wasn't actually his way of honoring the mythology of the dead woman whose example he was trying to follow. Not that Shepard is a God he's worshiping, but ... there is something about the way he talks about her. Garrus doesn't make himself over in the image of a God, though; he's the soldier, the right hand, the avenging angel responsible for carrying out divine punishments suited and proportional to the crimes committed, the rules broken, the selfishness or cruelty of the perpetrator.

[wansandu]

Yeah, yeah, this is my opinion that no one asked for, but it's funny, it's very funny to see people deny that Hansry is the main love line of kcd. even if the warhorses themselves don't understand it.

just count the number of illogical and strange dialogues between Henry and girls in other romances. Contrast this with Hans' romance, which is the only one (excluding Theresa, because I'll talk about her later) that starts with friendship.

This is a place for the men's favorite phrase: "Can two people just be friends?" Welcome to the world of every female character introduced in fiction. (irl too btw). That's the problem. until the male scriptwriters realize that love stories which start from friendship will always have advantages over love at first sight. Until this understanding changes, such situations will continue to occur.

It's pointless to analyze Lady Stephanie's romance. It's brief and contains only a few scenes, and Henry does not react at all in kcd2 to the revelation that Lady Stephanie is pregnant with HIS child. if there was a romance in kcd1, then in kcd2 they put big fat **** on it. (according to my personal theory, their romance was created only because of men's fetish to sleep with someone else's wife, but nevermind).

Rosa's romance appears to be just as brief, possibly even shorter than Lady Stephanie's.

Even Rosa herself does not act as if her relationship with Henry has any promising future.

The romance of Katherine... *sigh* It's just weird. I’m not the only one who has noticed that the lead-up to the love scene with Henry feels very strange. It feels cheap and unwritten that Zizka would blurt out such personal information about Katherine to Henry. (I'm not even talking about the fact that Zizka talks about r*p* in the past and Katherine's trauma about it TO Henry RIGHT BEFORE THEIR SEX SCENE) (I am empathetic on this topic (like many women do) and inserting a sex scene right after that is just... disgusting) but if what is in ( ) is a personal opinion, I’ve noticed that many streamers and youtubers remained in a misunderstanding following Zizka's words. lol even one of the most not empathetic streamer guy said something like: "🤨wtf it is definitely not the words that you want to hear about the girl before the sx scene" The buildup to Katherine's romance is... strange.

The romances of Klara and Margaret make no sense at all - they even have the faces of NPCs. (Their only purpose seems to be to please the protagonist.) (I'm not opposed to straight romances; I appreciate the female characters. In fact, I'm madly in love with Lady Stephanie, but her romance is lazy written. I really enjoyed Margaret's quest and would have liked it to be longer. And if only u knew how much I wanted to hug Katherine and kiss her— though not after Zizka told me about her trauma. It’s not me; it's them who don’t leave me with a choice.)

So, here’s Theresa. Henry has finally been prescribed romance with a woman, which is well-founded. Their relationship begins with friendship. Theresa is a well-written woman. but there is a significant issue with their romantic storyline: it begins during Henry's trauma following his injury from the burning his home and the death of his parents. This raises an almost philosophical question: can a traumatized person truly heal another traumatized person? The situation is further complicated by the fact that in kcd1 it’s not Theresa who heals Henry, but Hans. It's Hans who manages to bring genuine smiles to Henry's face (@/autemis written a post about Hans being Henry's light). This leads to the recurring question: "Can two traumatized individuals save each other?" Everyone has their own perspective on this matter, but it’s undeniable that Hans plays an equally important role in Henry’s life as Theresa does in kcd1.

The second problem with Theresa's romance: her relationship with Henry in kcd2 is stagnating, while Henry and Hans' relationship continues to evolve.

(and now in kcd2, Henry is the one who tends to Hans' trauma that appeared in kcd2, and Hans continues to be an anchor for Henry.)

It's just the fact that Hans is Henry's only love interest, with whom he has a relationship that lasts two parts of the game. lol only in kcd2 there is 9 (!) hours of Hansry.

This is enough to say that... yes, hansry is the main romance of kcd.

This progression moves from enemies (2 minutes in kcd1) to friends (100+ hours in kcd1 and 150+ hours in kcd2) to lovers (the last 2 hours in kcd2). The relationship between Henry and Hans (even as just friends) represents the strongest bond between two characters across both games. When there is such a strong and well-defined connection, it often overshadows Henry's other romantic interests. Friendship with Theresa is mentioned in kcd2 ONLY ONCE in the prologue. Henry consistently worries about, cares for, protects, and thinks about Hans throughout kcd2. AND the parallels work better between Henry and Istvan in Hans romance. I mean... the main storyline between the protagonist and the antagonist. "its not a rocket science" (c) Logan Hillier.

Come on, tell me that Hansry is not the main romance of a kcd. and I really don't understand if the warhorses did this on purpose or accidentally created SUCH A BRILLIANT ROMANCE. It's not about "respecting the opinion of others". It's about facing facts.

*mic drop*

[zlut4rina]

Stress Reliever

Storyline: Your day was exhausting, and what better to help relax? A nice bath.

Pairings: Toxicgf!Giselle x Femreader

Warnings: smut in the tub, that's literally it.

Note: Giselle, lwk a bad gf fr (js how I like it 🥀) I had a dream abt this.

Word count: 1k short kinds to the point.

___________________________________________

It was around 6 or 7 o’clock, you don’t remember. Nor did you bother to check.

Your morning was stressful, waking up with a headache, missing your alarm, causing you to be late for work. You had to make a late call out, not wanting to go in your current state. Though it upset your boss, you couldn’t find it in you to go back and forth with her about it. You mentally accepted your future punishment.

Spilling coffee on yourself, forgetting to take the laundry out, your room being a mess, and your girlfriend hasn’t texted you back since you wished each other goodnight. You weren’t going to text her anyway.

As time passed, you felt so burned out, everything was going wrong and just stressing you out. You decided it’d be time to relax. How could that go wrong? You ran yourself a bath, occasionally checking the time, it was 8:50. All day, your patience was tested, finally having alone time and being able to relax fully. You ran yourself a bath, the room fogged up almost immediately. The heat of the atmosphere soothing your tense muscles.

It was around 9:15 when you gathered all your things to bathe. Slowly stripping yourself, loving the feel of the heat in the atmosphere and the way it hugged your skin. A sigh leaves your lips as you fully undress. You slowly stepped out from your clothes beneath you. Dipping your foot in slowly, passing the barrier of bubbles into heated water. Finally, setting your entire body, shoulder deep into the hot water, the sound of bubbles popping and sizzling echoed in your ears.

After relaxing for a few seconds, you heard your phone go off with a buzz that vibrated the tub. You reached your hand put, shaking the pink tinted soap from your palm. You saw a notification from your girlfriend.

She only liked your message from a few hours ago. You bottled up some courage to respond to her, even if you were last to text.

-Hey

You stared at the screen, waiting, hoping.

-Hi

A small smile rose and fell in the corner of your lips. So dry, as if she was forced to speak to you. Before you could complete a sentence (you were just going to delete later). She sent another message.

-I miss you, wyd?

The first three words made your heart skip a beat. It was the bare minimum, but it still made you feel loved.

-I’m in the tub rn.

You responded, she took a while to reply. Her chat bubble coming and going repeatedly.

-Oh, that sounds relaxing. How was your day?

Giselle never really acted like your girlfriend, even though she asked you out in the beginning. She was like this even before you dated. Something about her was keeping you attached. Even if she doesn’t speak to you for days, you can move on.

-Hard

Was all you replied with. She hearted the message a few seconds later. This might’ve been your longest chat all week.

-Wanna show me?

This confused you, show you? Show her what? You stared at the screen for a while, guessing she sensed your confusion through the screen she spoke again.

-What you look like rn. I wanna see.

You should be mad right now. You really should. Her dismissing your stress and only focusing on her needs right now, disgusting. But then again, who knows the next time she’ll speak to you like this, you don’t even remember the last time you kissed each other. After a while, and the silence mixed with the sound of bubbles from your bath, you complied. You opened the camera and stared at yourself for a while, then panned it low and angled at your chest. Your breast covered in soap, silk and shiny, you placed your arm under the two of them, perking them up. You snapped a few, sending them all to her immediately after. She opened them, and she didn’t respond for about three minutes.

-You look good, baby

You smiled, that feeling of validation corrupting you. Hearting her message, you replied with a thank you. She then hearted your message again. Her chat bubbled went and came at its own pace.

-Can I join you?

This message came as a surprise. She hasn’t been over to your apartment in so long.

-I’ll be a raisin by the time you get here, silly.

Chuckling at your own response, the water moving around your legs, still hot.

-Sounds like I’ll need to plump you back up huh.

The time was 9:43. You weren’t in there for long, but you still felt the need to add more hot water, maybe to please her, most likely. She was coming. You couldn’t talk her out of it even if you tried. You wanted her to come, you really did, it’s been so long.

She arrived at 9:57, her she lived almost an hour away, made you think she was waiting for this opportunity, or she was out somewhere she shouldn’t be, who knows. She knocked on the door before entering with the key you landed her. She didn’t text you that she was here, not cause she wanted to surprise you. She just didn’t do it. She didn’t knock on the bathroom door, she opened it slowly, peaking her head through, she smiled at you, that same smile you missed.

You sunk beneath the bubbles, you wet hair sticking to your shoulders and face. You looked at her with rosy cheeks. From the heat of the bath or her? You don’t even know. You never knew with her. “Room for another?” she asked, fully stepping into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. You nodded, your face flushed with a sheepish toothy smile.

She found you so cute in that moment, so vulnerable, so needy. She began to strip herself, slow, sensually locking eyes with you. You couldn’t look away, no matter how embarrassed you were. She drove you crazy, and she knew it. In the worst way, sometimes, in the best. Times like that were now. Fully stripping, she walked to you, pushing you by your shoulders as you scooted up to give her room. She placed herself behind you, pulling your back against her warm naked breast. You sat in between her legs, her arms wrapped around you waist under the water.

Giselle’s fingers dances across your skin, slow and skillfully. Exploring your curves and sensitive spots. She leaned closer to you, her breath warm against your ear, adding to the heat of the atmosphere. Kissing your ear and down to your cheek, her grip on you tightens, pulling you as close as possible. “I missed you.” You admitted. You didn’t mean to say that, out loud. You could feel the grin on her the side of your cheek. “Yeah?” she asked in a slow, husky tone. Her hands squeeze your hips, then slowly rise to your breast, pinching and twisting your nipples. You lean back into her embrace, and the back of your head rests on her shoulder. She took the opportunity to kiss and attack your neck, leaving marks and hickeys from your jawline to tour Adam’s apple.

She squeezes your soapy breast, fondling them in her hands, igniting a flame in your core. You closed your legs together, holding onto her thighs. “You like that, don’t you?” she whispered against your wet skin. Her tongue was trailing a line from your Adam’s apple to your jawline till she reached your warm plump lips. Overtaking you into a dominating wet kiss. Her hands squeezed and pinched your breast harder, making you moan into her kiss. “I wish could keep you like this forever” her tone teasing yet sincere, revealing her possessive affection she has for you. You open your eyes, locking with her. Wet and pleading, you spoke with your eyes, spit stuck to your bottom lip from her kiss. Your look drove her mad, she missed this, she knew it was her fault, that’s just how she is.

She slides her hand up you’re your neck, holding you in place as her other went down to your core. She leans in and whispers in your ear, “Your mine now.” Her voice laced with the drug of possession. Giselle let’s go of you, rising from the water and stepping out. “I’ll be right back” she said to you before leaving the bathroom. You stated at her figure for a split second, that’s all the time she gave you anyway. With a playfully glint in her eyes, she returns, her arm wrapped behind her back. Setting back down behind you, aligning you between her legs perfectly. She lifted your legs up to your chest and lifted them over hers. “What are you-“ Your words were cut off when she used one of her hands to spread your folds and push a vibrator in. Your mouth hung open as you gasped, the vibrator begins it’s work inside you.

Her hands rise back up to your breast, playing with them like a child would toys. Giselle ensured the pleasure on you builds with every passing moment. The combination of Giselle's skillful hands and the vibrations of the toy pushing you closer to the edge. Giselle’s small low chuckles as she watches your body’s cute reaction to her echoed through the room. A mix of joy and mischief as she leans in and kisses your neck, whispering sweet nothings to heighten your pleasure.

The toy intensifies inside you, Giselle kissing and marking you, she slowly dragged her hand from your breast to your clit, circling it slowly. You held onto her arm, and your other hand dug into her thigh. Your moans and whines mixing into the heat of the moment. “That’s it baby.” She kisses and bites your somehow empty unmarked spaces on your neck. “I wanna hear you scream for me.” You gasp softly, your body trembling with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. You turn your head slightly, your breath hitching in your throat as you lean and sink into Giselle’s warm and possessive embrace. You pull her into a kiss, whispering against her warm sweet lips how close you were to your climax. She smiled, her fingers moved faster in your clit, her other hand pinching and tugging at your nipple. You moaned against her jawline, panting heavily as you clenched around the toy, feeling the knot in your stomach fight back.

“Cum for me baby” Her voice soft and reassuring. You did, on command, so good for her. You came hard, but It felt so relaxing, so free, you needed this, you needed her. You pants and gasp filled the room. She planted soft kisses on your forehead and temple. “Your amazing, you know that?” her speech was genuine, sorry, and caring. You smiled weakly at her, pulling her into a kiss. “I love you, you know that?” she spoke against your lips. You nodded, stating her in the eyes. “I know.” Kissing her again, her hands roamed your sides again, slow and loving. “I love you too”

___________________________________________

[earl-of-221b]

Nezha 2 spoilers - on the character of Sheng Gongbao.

More on Sheng Gongbao, because I think what the movie did in introducing this classic antagonist's parent and kid brother may feel really random at first, but totally recontextualsies him to be (1) an even closer foil to Ao Bing and (2) a new foil to Nezha.

Ao Bing

In Nezha 1, Shen Gongbao explains his nature to Ao Bing so he could share the similarities of their situations: that he is a leopard demon, and demons suffer the same disrepute and disadvantage of dragons in the world of cultivation. That's why he did all this scheming from Ao Bing's birth to set him on a path that can diverge from his own - so he can prepare his disciple to advance where he can't - so Ao Bing can climb higher on the cultivation ladder. Shen Gongbao would benefit from Ao Bing's advancement as the master who trained, raised, and sponsored him to advance on the celestial stage. Ao Bing's father and people would also benefit from Ao Bing's ascension.

The foil Shen Gongbao plays for Ao Bing is being a demon - underpriviledged, undesired, having to struggle and claw his way in everything, being twice as good and yet not good enough, all because of what they are and how they were born. But he's known to Ao Bing only as his master and senior, someone who understands how the world works and whom taught Ao Bing his martial arts and magic.

In Nezha 2, the characters Sheng Zhengdao, the father, and Sheng Xiaobao, the kid brother, are introduced. This immediately changes the reading of Shen Gongbao. Not only is he a master, senior and an 'adult' in the complicated and cruel cultivation world - but he is also a son. Not only is he a son, there is an intricate backstory about what kind of son he is - he's the son who left his home and backwater town to go to celestial university, he's the first in the family to be accepted into the Chan Sect, the son who achieved human form, the over-achieving son, the son with a career, the son who made it, the absolute pride of the family. The eldest son who's family think he is living it up.

He is..........decidedly not. This is where the 'demon' storyline comes back: he has hit wall after wall. He's done dirty quid pro quo. He's been decieved, used, and even cowed by the system. One can't be treated fairly as a demon. Since he cannot make it any further by himself, he's resorted to relying on Ao Bing.

However, Sheng Gongbao's new role as a 'son' now paints him in an interesting light to both Ao Bing and Nezha. We instantly see that his motivation isn't just about feeling oppressed as a demon and wanting to be recognised for his merits. There is also clearly some insane filial piety driving him - because his position and ascention is supposed to benefit his kid brother and aging father back home! He is not just doing it for himself. He did all that dirty quid pro quo, being used as a tool, cowed by the system....because he needed to be the good son for his family. Because the truth is he has not made it at all. But if only he trains the perfect disciple, more perfect than himself...if only he gets him accepted into the celestial word...if only Ao Bing becomes a god of the Fengshen Bang...if Sheng Gongbao is reocognised as one of the 12 Golden Gods.........

On and on. His foil to Ao Bing as a son adds an extra dimension to Nezha 1. Ao Bing trained his whole life (being given the advantage of being the 'Yang pill') to advance his father's and people's position. To the point of being convinced, even if for a moment, that levelling Chentang Guan and killing all the people to keep the shameful secret of his dragon nature, was the only way forward...This now sounds very similar to his master. This is the solution his trusted, experienced master sold him. In Nezha 2, we learn Shen Gongbao has done terrible things for the celestial Wuliang (his senior cultivation brother)...it follows he would unload that same treacherous cycle onto Ao Bing.

2. Nezha

In a broad sense, Sheng Gongbao as the son becomes 'young,' a former protagonist himself, the hero of his own story, with his own parents and brother to appease. What I found endlessly interesting, is that with this new role, Shen Gongbao explicitly becomes a foil to Nezha as well. But the specific foil to Nezha in this case is 'being a son who will go on a total rampage out of love for his parents/family.'

With the knowledge of his parent's 'deaths,' Nezha goes on a total rampage out of love for his parents and the pain of losing them, that ends in beating up dragons and locking them in a huge magic furnace, completely playing into the hands of the evil celestial Wuliang. When our hero Nezha mitakenly fights the Eastern Dragon King Ao Guang, with the threat of his unfinished flesh body being disintegrated (he's not ready to fight in that condition yet!) - what does he say? He says "I don't care if I'll die, so long as I kill you!" The urge to avenge his parents is stronger than his self-preservation. But it's a twist. His parents are alive!

In the furnace scene, Nezha is offered a chance to save his parents who are getting cooked into cultivation pills by Wuliang. To accept a pill that makes him lose his memory and fall under the control of Wuliang. But Nezha's mother bats that thing out of Wuliang's hands, that's stupid and her son will never be a puppet for nefarious gods! Nezha, in the end, comes from a loving and supportive family who knows and understand him. They accept him for who he is. They would never stand for it. And so Nezha is protected from being manipulated.

Upon the Chentang Guan plot twist, it's revealed Shen Gongbao actually has the same reaction Nezha has when he thinks his family has died. Except for the point that his kid brother really does die - right in front of him! After whisking away Nezha's parents, Sheng Gongbao steps out again to the war-torn Chentang Guan, to fight off a thousand demons and the three traitor dragons. All by himself. There's dialogue, Nezha's parents ask Master Shen Gongbao what is he doing - where is going - why doesn't he take shelter with them?! And Shen Gongbao answers with bitter acceptance, "What's the point? My family's gone." And he goes out to fight. To take a last stand. To die.

Going back to Nezha, doesn't that reveal Sheng Gongbao's deepest motivations as the same as our hero's? He wasn't really doing it - all of it - entirely for himself. Now that his father and kid brother are dead, there is no reason to strive further. Shen Gongbao can let go of being one of the 12 Golden Gods or whatever. He's going to go out into danger, satisfy the urge to avenge his father and brother, and die.

Which takes me to the very delicious, delicious, diabolical end credits scene. The villainous Wuliang goes to a terrible prison where Shen Gongbao and his barely-ok father are alive. In a scene that totally parallels Nezha's choice in the furnace, he presents the same offer to Shen Gongbao. Accept a curse on his mind and body that will enslave him to Wuliang in exchange for his father's life.

But Shen Gongbao doesn't have the same honesty, understanding, protection from his father...because all this time he has been away from home...not returning because he hasn't made it...his father under the impression he is living it up as a celestial...his father not even conscious...

His kid brother died.

He has just this one family member left.

A person he was supposed to be doing all this for, to make proud.

A person he was ready to get revenge and die for.

After all he has already done - what is a little curse on Sheng Gongbao for the benefit of his father?

[74thcookie]

PureMilk/ShadowVanilla AU List.

I still have no free time from school so once I do I’ll put a link or just make separate blogs for each AUs I made (mostly by accident). This post is just a reminder to not only others but also myself on what I made so far.

I was inspired to constantly post my ideas after many months ago I watch a video of GinjaninjaOwO/June where she mentions that she doesn’t want to die with her ideas. I also don’t want to die with my ideas and I’m a small guy. I just want my weird ideas to be seen even if it’s hated or liked.

Note: In all this AUs I tried my best to mix both the in game PVSM and the fandom one (the ones that are commonly used) so it would be a bit fun but also grounded. I want to also say I have played crk since 2022, I stop at the start of golden cheese arc and came back to shadow milk. So I have a lot of catching up, this is the first time I interacted with the fandom. I need to mention that since I don’t want others to tell me again that I ruin these characters.

CondensedMilkAU/EvaporatedExtractAU

An AU where it focuses mostly on the Sage of Truth and how he balance his life between his usual work and his new life of being a Mother of two demon children while trying to live a normal cookie.

It takes place many many years after his first meeting with the Truthless Recluse.

It was made by accident after the concept of a burnt out Sage was made and it was later developed into its own thing.

The CondensedMilkAU is the original name of the AU based on the concept/doodle comics that uses the characters of the Burntout Sage/Mama Berry with his children the Demon/Devil Siblings.

The first comics and other comics that are doodle drawn under the CondensedMilkAU tag are the concept ideas where we explore possible stories for these characters. Think of it like those early cartoon logic where continuity ain’t really taken seriously but some mentioned events pop out from time to time or info may not make sense as it’s being made.

The EvaporatedExtract is more of a story where I try to make an actual storyline /Game concept based on whats mentioned in the CondensedMilkAU.

It has a lot changed from the CondensedMilkAU but the main concept of the Sage getting burnt out and living a double life to feel alive as Mama Berry remain.

The only change I know that will remain that differentiate it from the CondensedMilkAU:

The Siblings (BlackSapphiCookie and CandyAppleCookie) are adults now but still under the guardianship of the Sage.

Truthless Recluse being a focus of the tutorial guide for the Sage. In this story, TR has done the double life premise before Sage.

The story may have the original Fluff of the CondensedMilkAU but it will explore the dark and degenerate part that can be possible. For example being CandyAppleCookie’s obsession, in the CondensedMilkAU it’s more of an admiration for the Sage but in the EvaporatedExtractAU her admiration is obsession and if not in checked, her actions towards the Sage/Mama Berry would be dangerous and degenerate. Making even the siblings a threat to the Sage.

The Sage was hinted to have done evil stuff before as he weaponizing the truth, it’s just now we get to see him trying to repent for his sins. (I’m not sure if the evil was done by the Sage unintentionally or intentionally).

I had a dream before about a ShadowVanilla AU where it involves making consequence decision matters. We call it the Umbrella..something dream since it has PV breaking and entering another school to get WhiteLilys Umbrella back at night. It has him and Shadow milk exploring the curse school at night and the events made them open to each (I took the concept of it being a game with consequences and apply it to the EvaporatedExtractAU)

There’s a lot that is in this AU but that’s the Summary since not all is set in stone.

This AU was made during late March 2025 or early April 2025. After the release of the SoT and TR skins.

DosedofNightShadeAU/ Sanrio ShadowVanilla/OldManFount/3PM_AU

This concept was originally made an as excuse to draw Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk in the modern AU still as cookies but the settings are like the April fools. It is an excuse as well to draw them in cute dresses and outfits.

I accidentally made a fanfic of these two loving Kuromi(PV) and MyMelody(SM) after my brain try to debate itself as to why they’d wear the theme Sanrio clothes.

It was based on the concept of “opposites attract” and how similar Kuromi and My Melody are to PVSM in where Kuromi does like to be My Melodys friend but is pissed then her jester clothing, her gang, her parallels to My Melody. Then for My Melody it’s her caring nature and openness to others but a bit aloof. Making PV attracted to Kuromi themes and SM to My Melody is like making them unconsciously into each other or the personality and style that reminded them of the other cookie.

Days after I made the Fanfic I did a doodle of what if The Fount of Knowledge, The Sage of Truth and Shadow Milk are siblings in a modern “human” AU. The headcanons given by the people that comment that initial post inspire me to make a PV version.

Fount was only made after the poll of making him look more motherly type than cutesy

It was supposed to be just two PVs since I always see Classic PV and Awaken PV as one being and TR being his own thing but others are sad that the Fount has no PV of his own. One suggested the Fortune Teller and all hell breaks loose in my green pea sized brain.

The story as of right now compare to the previous AU since it’s made in Mid/Late April of 2025 as a brainrot.

The only concept is ShadowVanilla(Sanrio)in where they are the most healthiest and the kinkest, FountFortune are the middle ground, in where they are the horrors but also hurt comfort. Then SageRecluse, the weirdest and creepiest one, probably dead dove do not eat and any content with those two STAYS IN THE PRIVATE ACCOUNTS.

One concept though I want to keep is that all three SMilks are not innocent. Shamil committed bullying and harassment before, Sage made students go insane due to academics and his ego, Fount committed war crimes that even the police are afraid of him.

I saw floatinglittlestars tag for the AU being 3smpvau which is easy to remember which I love but I know there’s a lot of AUs from other artist that has 3 SM and PV in it.. so gonna call it 3PM_AU like 3:00 pm in the morning where they do something funky. (Especially Fount and Fortune). Though I really like the 3smpvau a lot. It’s very easy to remember

Those two are the ones I can say are AUs. There’s a Fable one but that’s not completely develop since I’ll only finish one of that once the poll is done and my hell is over.

[lilousmustaches]

In the Shadow of the fifth floor

Warnings: Bruises, violence, virginity, smut, Hogwarts Legacy spoilers.

Notes: My first ever smut with Sebastian Sallow? Hmm.. sounds about right. I'm obsessed with Hogwarts Legacy and I just needed to get this out of my system!! I didn't finish the game yet and the story follow the storyline (Level 27). Let's just imagine they were a little older in the fifth year.

Summary: Sebastian is mad that you keep getting yourself hurt on missions. He knows exactly how to help you.

Sebastian walked fast through the dark corridors towards the Slytherin Dungeons, with a hard expression and a millions thoughts running in his mind. He was so fucking done with everyone taking advantage of your good will when he knew exactly what type of rumors were flying around the castle about you. The weird new fifth year with the strange magic, that hangs out with the blind one and the poor boy that lost his sister. It was incredibly short the list of people who really cared for you and he was sure on the top of it. 

Thanks Merlin that he bumped into Poppy Sweeting in the way, who tolded him exactly where to find you. 

He quickly went down the Slytherin’s common room stairs seeing that it was almost completely empty due to the time. Sebastian ignored all the curious stares from the few remaining there and went straight to the couch facing the dark lake, knewing that it was your favorite place to be. 

He found you laying there with eyes closed and one arm covering them. Sebastian sighed at the view noticing that your clothes and face were still a little dirty from the adventure and could notice several parts of your skin scratched. He knelt down infront of the couch and saw your eyebrows frowing. 

“Seb?” You asked with a small confused voice and he opened a small weak smile. 

“Did you call me madame?” Sebastian answered with a ligh tone seeing you lowering your arm and finally opening your eyes to stare at him. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, confused, leaning on your elbows, unable to hold back the grunts of pain.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He said sitting next to you when you set up trying to compose yourself. “Ominis told me that he sensed you arriving weirdly back in Hogwarts. He said you were limping.”

“Has he now?” 

“Yes (Y/N), he has.” Sebastian said hardly. “Where the hell have you been?” 

You sighed finally looking away from the giants windows to the lake to stair Sebastian’s hazel eyes.

“I was…” You began cautiously. “Helping a girl out. She needed some things from… well, from the forbidden forest.” 

“Of course she needed.” Sebastian said with a humorless laugh. “And was she, by any chance, missing her legs so she couldn’t go herself?” 

“Sebastian…” You sighed tired knowing exactly where this discussion was heading.

“What?” He shot back. “You know I’m right here. I know you love getting yourself into trouble. Believe me, darling, we got that in common.” Sebastian continued, making you roll your eyes. “But you have to stop getting hurt for those cowards! They are not worth it.”

“It’s not like they’re the only ones making me put myself in harm's way to achieve something that doesn’t concern me!” You snapped before realizing what you’d said, immediately regretting it. Sebastian was taken aback, surprised by your words. He knew, deep down, that he was just like the rest of them. He knew you were still upset about the whole Crucius situation in the Scrythorium, but that was entirely different! You were best friends; he’d shown you all his life and secrets. You’d done it for Anne, too. “I’m sorry, Seb,” You said softly. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t (Y/N)” Sebastian replied with a bitter tone. “Because if you meant it, you would be telling me that my sister mean nothing to you and i refuse to believe that.” 

“Of course Seb…” You said softing your expression putting your hand on top of his. “We’re in this together now.” 

“Absolutely we are.” Sebastian said turning his hand that was resting on the sofa to interlace fingers with you. “I know you care for Anne and you know that i worry about you. You already have enough on your shoulders trying to figure out your powers for some nerds out there be occupying your time with their nonsense.” 

You let a weak laugh out by his words and finally seemed to notice your hands still glued to each other. You could feel his thumb slowly, almost imperceptible, carresing your skin. 

“It’s true that…” You gulped trying to take your mind out of the sensation of his touch that it felt like it started to burn. “I am a little done of people always asking me the most random favors.” 

“I know.” Sebastian continued satisfied that he was able to begin to break those walls of yours  and it was giving space to one more vulnerable side. “Because I know you. And because… we already had this conversation that time you got super drunk on butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks”

“What?” You asked indignant seeing Sebastian laughing at your face. “We did not.”

“Oh love I assure you we had.” Sebastian said feeling a sudden cold in his belly when saw your cheeks turning red from the little pet name. “You get quite talkative when you’re wasted.”

“And whose fault was that?” You snapped raising your eyebrows remembering that he was the one that offered you a little sneak out to Hogsmeade after a boring Potion’s class a few weeks ago. 

“Guilty.” Sebastian said licking his lips having fun with the memories of you tripping your way back, singing and dancing in the streets. “My point is… stop being Miss Perfect. We both know that’s not really you. Those lazy students wouldn’t do half of the things that they ask for you in return if you needed. They don’t care about you, not like… I do.”

Your breathing was cut short by the honestly in his words. You would be dumb not to admit that you didn’t notice Sebastian’s over protection towards you. He was always around, always wanting to be included, always bossing you to do things for your sake. Strangely bothered when he learned you would pass an evening with another male friend. Even if it was Ominis…. Who, by the way, had gave you hundreds of little remarks on how he never saw Sebastian acting so jealous over someone before you.  

But… it was hard to think about that sort of stuff when you were so busy trying to stop a wizard war. When he was acting desperate over a cure for his sister. And let’s not forget he did crucied you. 

So why your hand, that still was intertwined with his, was on fire? 

“How much are you hurt?” Sebastian asked not giving you time to answer his last speech. 

“I’ve been worse.” You shrugged making he roll his eyes. “A few bruises and scratches, really. No big deal.”

“Ah yes? Then prove it.” He said finally letting go of your hand to fold his arms infront of his chest. He saw your confused expression and pointed for you to stand up. “Prove it.”

“Is this really necessary?” You asked tired but saw that he wouldn’t let you go of this. You huffed trying to stand as normally as you could, but as soon as your feet touched the ground an electric wave of pain traversed your body making you grunt, shutting your eyes and grinding your teeth. 

“I bloody knew it.” Sebastian exclaimed shaking his head in disapproval. “Where?” He asked simply and with some seconds of hesitation, you ended up turning around, lifting your shirt showing an enormous bruise that started middle back and ended just above your butt. 

“For Merlin’s beard, (Y/N).” Sebastian cried fighting the urge to touch it. “Did you fall from your hyppogriff? It looks awful. Ominis always says that you are my Karma in this life.”

“Wow thank you very much Sebastian!” You said ironically and turned to face him. 

“C’mom I know what you need.” He said getting up. “Can you walk?” He asked sweetly offering you his shoulder to lean. 

You two walked calmly to wherever he was taking you. It was already late and practically no one was wandering around the castle anymore. With a few comments here and there, you finally stopped infront of the door to the prefect's bathroom in the fifth floor making you frown. 

“Why are we here?” You asked following him inside seeing it was empty. 

“You need a hot bath to ease those bruises.” He exclaimed pointing excited at the giant luxury bathtub in the middle of the room, that looked more like a pool. 

With a shake of his wand, he locked the front door to avoid disturbance and opened the taps to fill the bathtub with boiling water and bubbles. 

“We shouldn’t be here.” You said. Sure, it was reserved to the prefects. This didn’t really bothered you but the tension of the situation made you freeze. Just the two of you… taking a bath… together? The thought excited you in the same amount that scared you. 

“Please. We have done much worse.” Sebastian laughed it out not noticing right away your anxious expression. 

“Oh… ” Sebastian exclaimed when noticed what was happening, finally realizing he didn’t think this through. “Look, I can stay outside making sure no one comes. You take the time you need. You’re sore, you need to relax.” 

“No-“ You answered quickly, surprising him. Surprising you even. “I mean… it’s a giant bathtub.” You shrugged. “Filled with bubbles. You can turn around, I will enter. I will do the same for you.” 

“You sure?” Sebastian asked suspicious not expecting this behavior from you. He really did act on best thoughts to help you feel better. But the possibility of having you completely naked just a few steps away from him, drove him mad. He was scared that you would noticed his bulge growing just from the thought. 

“Yes.” You said with an unknown confidence and Sebastian immediately turned around not being able to think of any usual smarts comebacks. He was too busy trying to keep it together when he started to hear your clothes falling to the ground, one after another. Finally he heard the water moving, meaning you entered the bathtub, followed by your soft voice. “You can turn around now.” 

He looked at you, practically covered up by bubbles and repressed an adoration smile before you yourself looked away, and he took the hint that it was his time to undress. Sebastian took a deep breath trying to control his erection from growing and got in the water as fast as he could. 

“Aren’t you eager to caught a glimpse of me naked?” Sebastian joked when you turned to look at him before he could say it was ok. 

“Very funny.” You smiled ironically throwing some water in his face making him laugh. But the little war was quick over when you moaned of pain because of the movements. 

“Is the water helping?” Sebastian asked more serious when saw your discomfort. He couldn’t stop himself from getting closer to you, that lead him to see a lot of bruises in your collarbone also. 

“It is… this was a great idea. Thank you.” You gave him a weak smile and he copied you. Indeed the temperature of the bathtub was making your muscles relax. It seemed like for the first time in weeks. 

Sebastian gave one more step closer making you stop breathing. His eyes were locked up in yours and the tension was making you shiver. He slowly lifted his hand, hesitantly touching your collarbone, so carefully like he wasn’t even there. You closed yours eyes, breathing out. He was so close. If you extended your hand, you would be touching his very naked torso. 

“You know… Ominis has been asking about you. He’s worried. Imagine if he would saw like that, all hurt.” Sebastian said making you smirk. 

“Then in this case I have to be thankful that’s it’s you seeing me right now, not him.” 

He also smirked with your clever answer, distancing himself from you once again. Sebastian knew that was why you worked so well together. He took care of you, acknowledging your power. Not treating you like you were made of glass. And in return, you backed up his crazy ideas, not being afraid of doing the wrong thing. 

“Do you find him pretty?” He asked mentally cursing his tongue for letting that insecure possessive thought slip out. 

“Who, Ominis?” You asked confused for the sudden change of subject. “I guess he’s ok.”

“Not much your type?” Sebastian chuckled and you copied him. 

“Something like that.” You answered. “Though Garreth it’s pretty cute…”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Sebastian said almost nauseated with jealousy. “That moron.”  

“And what’s your type, Sallow? I would bet galleons that it’s Imelda.” 

“Though you knew me better than that, brat.” He said enjoying the surprise in your face because of the insult. “I despise her, really.” 

“I’m glad that we have that in common.” You said making him laugh. “Have you…” You started hesitant making him frown. “Have you ever had someone?”

Sebastian was astounded by your question. The drip of innocent, the curiosity in your voice… it was rare hearing you sound so unsure like that. He had to breathe to calm his nerves down and remember that you were best friends. It was only normal you wanting to know things like that about him.

"Before Anne was sick…" He started seeing you moving to lean back against the side of the ‘pool’. “When I had time to think about these stuff… I started to hang out with this Ravenclaw girl. I was enjoying the company but definitely not the love of my life. It happened once.” Sebastian chose his word carefully not wanting you to interpret badly. “Well, not once. But just this one girl.”

“I see.” You answered simply, appearing lost in your thoughts. 

“I imagine I know your answer if I ask you the same question?” Seb tested the waters, slowly approaching you once more, seeing you roll your eyes. 

“I’m focused on my tasks Sebastian. Don’t need any distractions…”  Sebastian chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. His suspcious being confirmed.… nobody had touched you the way he wanted most. 

“Distractions, huh? Is that what you call it?” He teased, inching closer. The bubbles between you started to dissipate, leaving little to the imagination.

“There isn’t very much of a time to loose your virginity in the middle of a wizard war, is there?” 

“There is now.” Sebastian said making you snap your eyes back at him in shock. 

Hell, he knew you knew. He knew everyone knew. It was incredibly obvious how he felt about you. Sebastian was so lost after Anne’s curse, feeling alone… and in a glimpse of a second, there you were. The mysterious gorgeous new fifth year, with a remarkable power, trusting him. Helping him in no matter what. Fighting along him. 

How he could not develop feelings for you? 

“Seb, I-…” You started flabbergasted not expecting to hear him being so straight foward. His hazel eyes you adored were almost desesperate. But he wasn’t backing down. “Are you serious?” 

“Deadly. ” Sebastian said without hesitation and it was like the wind knocked you out for a second. Seeing your reaction, he chuckled looking away suddenly a little shy. His hand passed through his hair, wetting his chocolate curls and you could pratically see his internal battle in his expression. 

“You know we make a hell of a good team, love. I’ve always admire your strength, seeing you battle is a sight. But these moments…” Sebastian pointed to the two of you. “The vulnerable ones… I just… I want to take care of you. Let me take care of you.” 

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The determination in his eyes was unmistakable, and it tugged at something deep within you. The room seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker, as the weight of his words hung between you.

"Sebastian," You whispered, your voice barely audible. "I... It’s true that we make a good team."

You ended up admitting like you were taking off a giant height from your chest and saw the lips of the boy infront of you slowly turning into a smirk with the confession. It was the green flag that he was waiting for. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked taking one more step forward in a way that your bodies were practically touching now. You knew that he could have a perfect vision of your bare breasts now that the bubbles dissipated, but you couldn’t care less. 

“More than anyone, Seb.” The amount of truth in those words scared you. His face was close enough that you could almost count every single freckle in his face. 

Sebastian finally closed up the distance, putting his hands in each side of your face. He shivered with the feeling of his chest pressing up yours breasts. And ending up that agony, he finally kissed you. 

It was slow, intense and desperate. A fire that had been simmering for too long finally bursting into flame. You could feel his arousal, hard and ready, poking in your tight and excitement made your stomach flip. One of Sebastian’s hands gripped the side of your waist that wasn’t hurt, while the other one  careered you gently in the back, avoiding the bruises, his touch sending waves of warmth through you.

His kisses started to go down to your neck, kissing softly your bruised collarbone. Just like he was fulfilling his wish to take care of you. 

"You've not idea for how long i wanted to do that." He whispered making you shiver. Because as much as you have tried to figh it, you felt exactly the same way. When the realization hit you, you hold his face bringing him back for a desesperate kiss.

His fingers found the way up to your breasts, cupping them gently, his thumbs circling your nipples until they hardened beneath his touch. You gasped into his mouth, your body arching into his. He pulled away just enough to stair into your eyes, before moving his face straight to your left boob. His tongue swirling around your nipple before taking it fully into his mouth. You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to you.

Sebastian’s hand slid down your stomach, his fingers lingering between your legs. He found your clit, his thumb circling it gently, making you gasp and squirm. 

“Sebastian…” You started having trouble to breathe, feeling a whole new sensation that you had experience only with yourself before. 

“Shh.. I’ve got you.” He whispered in your ear, leaving slow kisses there. “I’ve got you”

He slipped a finger inside you, then another, his thumb continuing its torturous circles. He continued to touch you bringing you closer to the edge. Just as you were about to explode, he stopped making you groan in protest.

“Impatient, are we?” Sebastian teased, chuckling at your reaction. He grabbed your tights wrapping them around his waist, placing his hands in your butt. “We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know.” You nodded staring at his preoccupied eyes. “I want you. Please”

This time it was him that moaned impatient, the effect you had on him. 

“This might hurt a little, okay? Specially cause we are underwater.” He explained soflty as he positioned himself at your entrance. He looked into your eyes, seeking permission, and you nodded. He began to enter you slowly, his eyes watching your every reaction. You gasped as you felt a sharp pain, your body tensing making him stop immediately. "Breathe with me," he murmured, his voice calming.

You followed his lead, your breath syncing with his as he continued to fill you up. The pain began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure.

"You feel amazing," He murmured, his voice strained with effort. "So tight for me.” 

“Don’t stop.” You whispered with your eyes closed enjoying the new sensations and sensed his little smirk, followed by a kiss.

“I won’t.” Sebastian promised. 

And he didn't. He moved slowly, his hips rolling in a rhythm that was driving you both mad. The sound of your combined moans and gasps filling the air. But it was when he started to move faster, that you felt it for the first time…. electric sparks building up the tension. Your magic. Based on his reaction, surprised and pleased, you could see that he sensed too. 

Sebastian never thought he would feel something like that. It was like the pleasure of the act was doubled by an electric wave that was passing through the both of you. He could practically taste his magic mixing up with yours, and in that moment, he knew he was going to be addicted. Sebastian never felt so powerfuld, so strong. 

"Seb." You cried out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. "I'm close."

"Me too," He nodded, his hips moving faster. "Together," He murmured. "We'll go together."

His hand slipped between you, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, the dual sensation sending you spiraling towards the edge. And with one final thrust, you both shattered, your cries of pleasure echoing around the room. The world went white, your body convulsing. Sebastian held you tight, his body trembling due his own.

“Are you okay?” He whispered after a few seconds, getting out of you. 

You started to laugh, silly, still high in the post orgasm sensation, soon being followed by Sebastian. 

“I’m guessing this is a yes.” He said giving you one last chaste kiss, before getting out of the pool. 

“We will need to stop practicing spells and start focusing on the practice of this particular skill set.” You said lazily making him laugh. He wrapped one towel around his waist and got you one as well, retourning to the edge of the pool. 

“Oh don’t worry darling, i’m planning to enjoy as many opportunities we have.” He said smirking seeing you slowly starting to move. “We might need a stress relief after our adventures.”

You chuckled shaking your head in denial. You surely didn’t think your night would end like this when you’re fighting spiders in the forbidden forest. 

"Come on, let's get you dried off and back to your room. You need to rest." You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. As you stepped out of the bathtub, the cool air hit your skin, making you shiver. And sure it was still new the sensation of being completely exposed infront of your best friend. 

“Oh (Y/N)…” He said frowing his eyebrows with a pained voice making you look up confused. From that angle, Sebastian could see throught the mirror next to the towel rack and saw, once again, your whole back purple from bruises. 

“You know, i don’t break easily Seb.” You said looking at your reflection. 

“I’m painfully aware.” He said wrapping the towel around you, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "Better?" 

“A lot.” You replied with a little smile. He hugged you from behind, making you both face the mirror and your own reflection. 

“That was incredible.” He said leaning his head in your shoulder that wasn’t hurt. 

“It really was.” You agreed breathing out. Sebastian always seemed to understand you better than anyone. It was always been so obvious that your relationship would reach this point, but now that the moment was there, literally infront of you, it was hard to believe. 

“Are you sore?” 

“Yes.” You answered. “But not from the bruises.” 

“My fault.” He said with a smirk, understading what you were reffering to. “(Y/N)… have you felt that?” 

You sighed, your lips turning in a fine line. Of course you knew what he was talking about. The strange enhancer you felt during sex: your magic. You slowly turned to face him looking straight into his eyes.

“I did.” You started. “I don’t know what it was, there’s so much i need to understand about this yet.” 

“It’s okay.” He reassured you with a small smile, passing his hands up and down your arms. “We will figure this out together, love.” 

You nodded entering the hug he was offering you with his arms wide open for you to nest there. Sebastian kissed your forehead protectively still looking at your reflection in the mirror. 

His whole body frozed when he saw a quick flash of a blue light spark from his eyes. 

Not even trying dark magics gave him half of the power he felt inside of you. It fucking terrified him what he could do with that information. 

[revelboo]

Hello, sorry if I'm being annoying. But I’d love to see something with IDW Ratchet or Tarn if you could write anything with them—especially Ratchet. I just don’t see enough good stories about him. I really enjoy your writing style and can’t get enough of it. Sorry for any mistakes; English isn’t my first language.

Sure, I’ve been meaning to do an IDW Ratchet. Tarn’s on my list, too, but he and Ratchet will likely be the last new characters for a while. I’m currently over 30 ongoing storylines at this point 😅 18+ 🌶️

Feel Like Rain

IDW Ratchet x Reader

• Sometimes it’s all too much. Even with First Aid helping, there’s just not enough medics in the Ark to support so many Autobots. Wheeljack and Perceptor can help if push comes to shove, but even then once the fighting begins again it won’t be enough. He’s never enough. And when he can’t get his processor right, when it threatens to drown him, he goes driving in his alt mode. Feels the sun baking him, the sand and hot asphalt under his tires. No real destination in mind, just trying to calm the panic that’s always there, the worry about what might happen. Driving for hours sometimes in a widening spiral about the Ark. Never going too far in case he’s needed. As he turns, he almost misses the car down in a crevice, only part of the bumper still visible, emergency lights flashing. Not his problem, but he’s still slowing anyway. Because he’s still a medic and someone might be hurt.

• Transforming and sliding down next to the car, he lays a hand on the roof feeling the heat of the metal and knowing it’s been there a while. Leaning to look inside anyway, there’s a human slumped forward against the wheel, broken glass glittering in their hair. Unmoving. Too late, then. Spark constricting, he’s turning away, pushing off the car to make the metal groan, when their little fingers flex and you make a low, guttural noise of pain that freezes him.

• It takes time to carefully peel back the roof of the car, snap the seatbelt and pull the door off to remove you. Feeling how hot your skin is against his servos as he lifts your limp form. Your eyes never open but you mumble incoherently, broken fragments he can’t make sense of. That make him wonder just how long you’ve been here, trapped and waiting to die. Because there’s no leaving you now that he has you in his hands. Carefully transforming around you to carry back to the Ark.

• Wheeljack’s in Medbay when he returns, digging through his tools and looking up guiltily, vocal indicators flickering green before he notices the human. “Haven’t seen that one before. Looks rough,” Wheeljack murmurs, moving closer as Ratchet lays you on a berth, your tiny form looking even smaller in the bot sized space. He’s almost absurdly glad Wheeljack’s there. Even though he’s been trying to brush up on human medicine since there’s so many of them now in the Ark, he doesn’t know nearly enough. Doesn’t know how to help you, but Wheeljack has a human. He has to know something.

• Snatching a scanner to run over you, he frowns at the results. Wrist and arm broken, one leg fractured. Body temperature well outside of normal parameters, dehydrated. Blood pressure off from normal, too. And he doesn’t know enough to know which problem is a priority. Which will kill you if he doesn’t fix it first. “Get your human,” he says softly. Temperature? It’s a place to start, cooling you off. “Now, Wheeljack,” he adds without looking up when the other bot doesn’t immediately move. Using a servo to brush your hair from your face, he can see the glass glittering on your skin and in your hair. “You held on this long.”

Next

[nolita-fairytale]

something will happen | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: you and luca embark on another a big new adventure together: one of second dreams and second chances. the long-awaited sequel to 'burn your life down.' titled inspired by something will happen - berlioz.

warnings: fluff, light angst, grief, death, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, off-canon connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: it's really happening! i can't promise i'll be updating frequently, but season 3 got me inspired and i've really missed this world. this feels more like an intro than a chapter but here we are anyway. all italicized scenes are a part of the same conversation. i just wanted to play with something new so i hope it makes sense. lmk if you'd like to be tagged.

masterlist | chapter two

Late Spring

“Well? What do you think?” Luca asks you, the anticipation in the silence between the two of you palpable. 

“I don’t know!” you practically exclaim, all giddy at the mere idea of it. You chew on your lower lip as you wait for him to say something next. 

“I’m just saying. It’s not a half-bad idea and ehm… well, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, actually,” he reasons with a shrug. He sends a loving glance your way because you look so damn cute wrapped in your twin-sized duvet that makes up one half of the bed you share. 

“For how long?” you ask, cautiously. 

“Dunno,” Luca shrugs. “Ever since Marcus mentioned it, I suppose.” 

He’s almost too casual about this—as if he hasn’t been stuck on the idea for the last month or so since his friend had returned to the States.

This is most certainly not a lazy Saturday morning with breakfast in bed kind of conversation. 

This is a paperwork and really nice pens kind of conversation

A big step.

Huge, even. 

You’ve already agreed to live with the man. 

And now this?

“Luca…” you struggle to get out on an exhale. “I just. It’s not that I don’t want to. I just-.” You pause, collecting your thoughts as you shake off all your nerves before choosing to pivot.

“What if we just-.” you begin again, taking a breath as you brace yourself to jump over this specific cliff. “Total fantasy. No limitations, no logistics, then sure. Okay. We could talk about it.” 

“Alright,” Luca accepts with a nod, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes like he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. He sits up straight, pushing himself off of where he leans against the headboard, shifting so that he’s closer to you. The smile that spreads across his lips begins to grow as repeats your words back to you. “Then, my love, total fantasy. No limitations. No logistics. What’s the dream?” 

—---------------------------------------

Summer

The dream was only supposed to be this—one where you’d begin living with your very sexy and very sweet pastry chef of a boyfriend—and yet, months later, as you move your things into Luca’s Vesterbro flat, your thoughts are consumed by ‘what ifs.’ 

What if you did it? 

What if you opened the restaurant of your shared dreams? 

What if your dreams came true with the love of your life by your side? 

Opening Kokuore had been different. It was your first step towards your next chapter, one where you had moved to Copenhagen in search of a new beginning. But this would be… a proclamation: that you were here to stay, that you and Luca could be something permanent, that you could be more than just romantic partners. 

Proof of a life well-lived and a life well-loved. 

Kokuore had been your dream, your first, your baby. Sure, there’d been talk of expansion—maybe a bigger space, or something along the lines of that—but you hadn’t thought too deeply about a second. 

You hadn’t thought about what would come next. 

And then he did. 

Luca. 

“Need any help, love?” Luca offers, watching you scoop two stacked boxes up into your arms, ready to be hauled into the bedroom. 

“Nope!” you heave with a sigh. “Not with these. But if you could grab the other three I’ll meet you in the closet, babe.”

He smirks, calling after you with a: 

“And what do you suppose we should do there?” 

You chuckle in response, your voice sounding further away as you shout back, “Let’s just unpack a few of my clothes, love, before we start taking them off.” 

—---------------------------------------

“Then, my love, total fantasy. No limitations. No logistics. What’s the dream?” 

You sigh, like you too haven’t been thinking about it since Marcus brought it up in the first place. 

“Okay, I’m not ready yet,” you preface, cautiously. “But. If we were, hypothetically speaking, talking about opening a restaurant together… I kinda love the idea of a brunch spot.” “Like Marcus said.” “Exactly.” 

“Slash bakery.” “Right.” 

“Hypothetically speaking.” “Of course.” 

For a moment, your mind gets away from you, running wild with the fantasy that’s beginning to unfold before your eyes.

“I think I really like the idea of it being a bakery during the weekdays when we’re open,” you admit, an excitement beginning to bubble underneath the surface of all your reasons why you shouldn’t. “Maybe we do Wednesday, Thursday all grab-and-go sort of breakfast stuff in addition to the bakery.”

“Kind of like a NY-style bodega,” Luca adds, building on your idea. “You know. With a little extra finesse.”

“Yes! Then… Friday, maybe, we pivot to full breakfast/brunch till the end of Saturday,” you reply, building off what Luca’s just said. 

“Think Wednesday – Saturday service would work?” he asks curiously, knowing that most places are closed on Sundays in Copenhagen.

“We could try it out. Extend our hours to Sunday down the line IF it feels right,” you reason with enough ease to worry you a little. You begin to back pedal, your mind flooded with doubt. “But-, I don’t know, honey. Don’t you think Copenhagen has enough bakeries?” 

“Not ours! Copenhagen doesn’t have ours yet,” Luca protests, as soon he begins to recognize what’s going on in your head. His excitement and passion alone might convince you to do this as he sits up on his knees, his body language expressing just how fully IN he is on this idea. 

His face changes—he’s only just a little more serious this time—his tone light and voice gentle as he warns you with a: 

“And I’m not letting you talk to yourself out of this.” He crosses his arms over his chest almost as if it’s a challenge. “So tell me more about this bakery-slash-brunch spot you’ve got in mind.” 

“Luca Davies! I don’t know where you get off thinking you can sweet talk me into this,” you scold him teasingly. 

He’s even faster to reply. 

“Oh I think I can.”

And this time, you know it’s a challenge. 

“Fine,” you concede to him, meeting him right in the middle of his challenge. “But I don’t want this to be all about my ideas. Besides, aren’t you the one who’s been thinking about it for months now?” 

—---------------------------------------

Fall

Over fresh ink that’s barely had a chance to dry, you and Mathilde clink glasses in celebration of the very big step you’ve just taken together. The contract had barely been drawn up before she charged into now-your Vesterbro home, opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, ready to sign on the dotted line.

A promotion, chef du cuisine, and a bigger percentage in ownership of Kokuore—a piece of your heart—now shared between the woman who helped you create your masterpiece. 

“I can’t believe we’re really fucking doing this!” Mathilde practically squeals, bursting at the seams with excitement as she rests her arms against your kitchen island. The two of you sit side by side on twin bar stools, facing each other to the best of the chair’s swivel-ability. 

“I know. It’s unreal and yet it feels like the right thing, yeah?” you agree, half in shock. Shifting gears, your back to business as you continue with an explanation of the ownership plan that you’ve thought long and hard about. “It’s important to me to stay involved, but most of my focus will go towards the new space for at least the next year. We’ll have weekly check-ins and Mathilde, I want you to at least consider some kind of ownership eventually in the hospitality group should we go in that direction.”

“I forgot you went to business school. It’s very sexy,” she teases, but the prospect of a hospitality group feels even more exciting.  

There’s a feeling of familiarity between you and your friend as you begin to break down some of the nitty gritty details of the contract. With Luca out for a jog, it reminds you of the days when it was just you, her, and Jesper, exploring your shared wildest dreams. The nostalgia wells in your chest as you take another sip from your champagne flute. 

You were really doing this and you’re so lucky you get to do it with your favorite people. 

Well, with your favorite people again. 

Who would’ve thought that moving to Copenhagen would bring you this grand of an adventure?

—---------------------------------------

“Fine,” Luca agrees, knowing that the way he looks at you only stokes the flames you feel for him. He’s got plenty of ideas, spent maybe too much time thinking about breakfast menus and laminated pastry doughs folded with all kinds of experimental ingredients. He hasn’t felt this creative in… well… since he met you. 

“I love the idea of breakfast/brunch. And I’m already feeling really inspired by the prospect of getting to create a menu with you, darling,” Luca begins, ready to build off of your previous idea. “I guess my first question is… who will lead it?” 

He’s not expecting the elated, “You, silly!” that escapes your lips without hesitation. 

It’s not that he has doubts about himself, but you are the one with the business degree. You’re also the one that’s opened a restaurant before, so he'd be more than happy to let you take reins. 

“Not that I’m going to totally love being on opposite schedules but…” you continue, this hypothetical conversation feeling less and less hypothetical. “...maybe I turn Kokuore over to Mathilde… spend a little more time developing this next concept with you. But. Without question, my love, I think you should lead it.” 

It’s his turn to be surprised, your unwavering belief in him felt so deeply it practically takes his breath away. The only response he can get out is: 

“I love you.” 

“I love you,” you giggle in response. 

“I guess my question for you,” you shift cautiously, as it begins to dawn on you that this is something you just might want as much as he does. “...is… is this something you want to do? I mean, I know it’s going to be a really big pivot from fine dining and-.” 

“God yes!” Luca exclaims, relieved at the thought. “I’ve been dying to get away from the fine dining stuff. I-. It’ll be an adjustment, sure. But yes. Yes, it’s what I want.” 

You nod as you process, listening to the conviction in your lover’s voice. 

He wants this. He really wants this.

And he’s so sure. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you realize you don’t have to have to suppress the feeling any longer.

“Fuck it!” you declare, as if you’re inhaling for the first time. “Fuck ‘hypothetical.’ We should totally do this, babe.” 

“Yeah?” “Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

A beat. 

“So…” Luca trails off, the wave of excitement beginning to wash over him. 

“What do we call it?” 

The baritone in his voice catches your attention, and as you look at him, you can practically see it all. In Luca you’ve found your second chapter, your second great love, and now your second restaurant. The word falls out of your mouth as if it were destiny: 

“Seconds. I think… we should call it Seconds.” 

“I love it,” he grins back at you.

And now, you’re just as certain about a second restaurant, because you get to do it with him. Luca chuckles, catching your gaze once more, almost as if he’s about to say ‘I told you so,’ as he utters a cheeky: 

“Well, love. Looks like we gotta call Marcus and let him know he’s about to own 10% of a restaurant.”